#it's a holiday and it was already past 8pm so i might have waited for 20 to 40 minutes

[machidielontheway]

thank you to the bus driver who saw me running as he passed by me and waited at the stop ahead, EVEN THOUGH NO ONE GOT OFF AT THIS STOP. He even let the door open i guess so i'd get he was waiting for me. True king may he have a blessed 20th of may every year.

[oreoambitions]

Would love to see supercorp “I’ve never been festive”! Glad to see you back on my dashboard!

The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

It occurs to Kara that there is a sort of comedic timing to this, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still hold her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

///

Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating; Happy Holidays and a lovely morning to everyone who is not! Thank you for this prompt! I expected to write a quick 800 words but it got away from me and took all month.

[silveanna]

In The Next Lifetime

Non-idol!Jaehyun x Fem!reader

Summary: your bestfriend Jaehyun is dating someone for 5 years now you should be happy for them right? A big NO, he’s your soulmate and he’s supposed to end up with you in this generation. And clearly it’s too late for that to happen.

Genre: Slight angst, Reincarnation!au, Soulmate!au,

College!au

Note: Agatha is your great great grandmother:)

Even though time has changed you’re still the one I will choose in the next life

“In the past few days, I keep dreaming about you” your best friend Jaehyun said, you two were at his rooftop laying down while looking up in the night sky.

“Really?”

“Yea, you were wearing a historical gown and it seems like we’re still super close in those dreams” he explains, the image of you in his dream flashes in his mind again.

“Well I dreamed about you too, and as far as I can remember, you’re a son of a farmer”

You change your position and faced him “do you think it means something, Jae?”

“Hm... maybe”

It was weekend again, you and your family visited your grandma and stayed in her house for the night. It was 8pm when your grandma knocks on your door, you quickly opened it and greeted her with a sweet smile “Yes nana?”

“I want to show you something, come follow me” she smiled and gestured you to follow her, confused, you put your phone in your pocket and followed her.

She lead you into a unfamiliar place of the house, it’s also a bit dark and dusty. At the end of the hall it was a dead end, and there’s large bookshelf there.

You were wondering if she wants to give you a bunch of books to read not until she pulls out one book and suddenly, a tunnel opened. You and your grandma immediately went inside, it was completely dark so you turned on the flashlight in your phone.

In the end of the tunnel, there was a small room filled with very old stuffs. Your grandma finally found the switch and turns on the light, it wasn’t bright enough to lightened up the room though.

What are all these stuffs? “Is this what you wanted to show me nana?” You looked at her, she smiled and shook her head. She went to a large object that looks like a painting and removed the cloth covering it. “This”

What the-

You silently gasp and hold your head, seeing the painting suddenly made your head ache.

It was a woman wearing a historical gown, her hair was long and curly, and she looks exactly like You “Are you alright?” Your grandma ask you.

“Yes..uh, is that me?”

“No, She’s your great great grandmother. Agatha. She looks exactly like you right?, Beautiful” she runs her fingers softly to the dusty painting. “This is the only painting of hers that she passed through the generations, why? the love of her life is the one who painted this”

“What’s his name?”

“Jaehyun, the eldest son of the farmer who works for Agatha’s family”

Year 1894

“What? Why?”

“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s noble, respectful, handsome and can cook. Agatha, He’s the right guy for you” her father explains, suddenly she loses her appetite to eat.

“But I love someone else..” she whispered.

“What?” the tone of her fathers voice suddenly changes, he hardly even heard her but he’s sure she said something that’s against his plan.“N-nothing, I’m full thank you for the food” she forced a smile and immediately went upstairs to her room.

Her father arranges a marriage for her with a man she has no idea who is, Agatha wanted to protest and tell him she loves someone else but she’s too scared.

It was midnight and everyone was peacefully sleeping, Agatha took this chance to sneak out and meet up with someone. She uses a match to light up the small lamp and took it with her. She immediately went to the garden where there’s a small house located, it took few knocks before someone opened the door. “Jae..” Agatha whispered and hugged him tightly.

“Darling what’s wrong?”

“It’s Father,he arranged a marriage for me with someone else, I don’t want it Jae. I want to be with you” she hugged him even tighter, Jaehyun sighed and stroked her hair.

He didn’t know what to do, the man your marrying must be rich and he can’t compete with him since he’s just a son of a farmer. You’re in a era where the rich are powerful.

Jaehyun closed his eyes took a deep breath, him and Agatha really love each other and there’s no other choice but to “let’s runaway, let’s find a house very far from here, build a family after a few years and live happy together.

——

“Absolutely not”

“Father please I’m begging you” Jaehyun’s father is utterly against the plan, he didn’t want to let go of his boy,still hesitating. “But it really looks like you two love each other, well then i will escort both of you on the way out..”

“Really? Thank you Father! I promise once we get there, i’ll write you a letter” Jaehyun hugged him, his Father patted his back while forcing a smile trying to hold back his tears. “I’ll visit you two on holidays”

Agatha was also weren’t quite happy about the running away plan, she has a lot of responsibilities at home but she also don’t want to be stuck with a man her family forced her to love.

all of them finally went out, but before the couple leaves Jaehyun’s Father hugged him again for the last time. It didn’t last long, Agatha’s Father came marching with a bunch of guards, his face filled with anger. “Traitors!”

“Father I-“

“Silence! And you rascals! I treated your family very well and this is how you will repay me?! Abducting my daughter?!” The way Agatha’s Father just casually calls Jaehyun and his father rascals angered her. She wanted to protest but the guards are holding her back.

“I’m vanishing you to this town and never to be seen ever again! If you dared to come back I will not hesitate to kill you!”

“No!” Agatha screamed, the guards took her back to her room and there she cried for hour and hours until she no longer feels anything. Completely numb and lonely. She stood up and searched for something, a painting of hers precisely.

While staring on the portrait, happy memories of her and Jaehyun started to flash in her head “Stay still! This may turn out badly if you keep moving!”

As expected, the next day, Jaehyun and his family is no longer around and has completely disappeared in town. And in that day, Agatha started to receive letters from him and she would always write back. But the letters stopped coming and Agatha eventually got married and had a family.

Back to Present time

“The end”

“Wow, that’s so sad.. did they get to see each other again nana?”You ask sounding like a little kid.

“Sadly, no, but the last letter that Agatha received from him says that Jaehyun will be searching for her in their next life” your grandma explains, you suddenly remembered the dreams you and jaehyun were talking about the other night. Maybe it does means something, it wasn’t you who Jaehyun saw it was Agatha!

And both of you are the Reincarnation of Agatha and Jaehyun in the past life!

It didn’t work in the past but the universe gave them/you another chance to try again.

“Argh!” You heard a piercing sound and your head started to hurt again, “Sweetie are you alright? Come let’s go back to your room so you can rest.” Your nana helps you on the way out.

After hearing Agatha’s story, you’ve been spacing out the whole weekend, you wanted to call Your bestfriend but maybe it’s the best to tell him everything in person.

You were packing your things in Your room when your grandma came knocking in. “Yes nana? Do you need something?”

“No, it’s just that.. I wanted to give you this” she handed you an old notebook it says ‘Diary’ on the front cover, “that’s Agatha’s Diary, something is telling me that I should give it to you because it might be a help” she explains. You nodded and hugged her.

“And you can keep it” she added.

You furrowed your eyebrows in disbelief “I don’t think— but since something is telling you to, then sure I’ll keep it”

It was already 4am but you couldn’t sleep, something is bugging the hell out of you. Maybe it’s the Diary? You look at your study table where Agatha’s Diary sits.

You turned on your lamp and read the first few pages, it was quite entertaining. The untold stories lies in her Diary. You read further and come to a small portrait of Jaehyun. He’s wearing the same attire you saw in your dreams. You flipped the pages again and a paper slipped out, you quickly picked it up and read what’s written in it.

‘I Promise to look for you in the next life’

“That’s it?” You said, quite disappointed and looking on the other side of the small parchment. But that’s all it says. You sighed and put it all back. Going back to your bed and forced your self to sleep since you still have school later.

“Hey Y/N!” Your bestfriend Jaehyun greeted you. But your too busy spacing out so he flicked your forehead “Ouch! What was that for?” You glared at him and rubbed your forehead.

“You’ve been spacing a lot lately Y/N is something wrong? What happened at your Nana’s?” He ask.

you didn’t know where to begin, Jaehyun has the right to know but what’s holding you back?

“Hi Jae!” A girl pops out of nowhere and pecked Jaehyun’s lips.

Your eyes widened, “who the hell is she?” You pointed at her. It confuses you more when he puts his arm around her shoulder. “My Girlfriend, Remember? We’ve been dating for 5 years now. Y/N did you hit your head on something?”

You’ve been pretty busy minding Agatha’s story and her Diary that you forgot Jaehyun in fact has a Girlfriend. You softly shook your head and look at the girl, “u-uh what’s your name again?”

Confused, she replies “Lily, Seung Liliy”

But Jaehyun is supposed to be with you right? what the hell did you do in the past years that made him fell in love with someone else?

“Anyways, my friend is throwing a party at her house if you’re free then we can come together?” Lily changes the topic.

“Sure, how about you? wanna come with us Y/N?” Jaehyun and Lily both looks at you waiting for your response.

“Yea yea sure, why not” you shrugged.

The music was very loud you barely even hear your own voice, so you decided to stay outside for a while. It was a bit chilly, quiet and you were lonely but it’s fine. It’s better if you’re alone.

“What are you doing here?”an unfamiliar voice spoke behind. You turned around and saw it was Johnny Suh.Your classmate.

“It’s loud inside... and, I can’t find my friends” you looked down avoiding eye contact, you felt a bit akward since this is the first time Johnny talks to you. He nodded, “same”

“Johnny?”

“Hm?”

“What would you do if your soulmate is in love with someone else?” You ask randomly, you weren’t that close to ask him about things like that. But he’s the only person who showed up and it seems like you can trust him. “Well if they’re really in love and happy with that someone then so be it, i don’t want to ruin the relationship. Not all soulmates end up with each other” he answered.

You nodded your head and looked down, “I was given a chance but it’s too late when I found out” Johnny has no idea what are you talking about so he just stayed silent. But after that, you changed the topic. The conversation last long until it’s time to go home, “see you at school” you smiled and waved goodbye at Johnny. He did the same.

Jaehyun droves you home and when both of you are finally in your doorstep you stopped and faced him, “Jae, Do you love Lily?”

“What made you ask that? Of course I love her”he replied.

“Like Love LOVE?” You ask him again.

“Yes I Love LOVE her truly, I could see my whole life with her without cringing”

“Ok then... see you tomorrow”before going inside your apartment, you smiled at him and after that you shut the door. You leaned back on the door and took a deep breath while running a hand thru your hair.

I’m sorry Agatha.

Year 2105

Lunch time, but it was too crowded in the cafeteria so Y/N decided to eat at the rooftop instead.

Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw a boy standing near the edge of the building, he was about to jump but luckily Y/N immediately pulled him down and he ended up falling on top of her.

“What the hell” the boy said and got up.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to say that, WHAT THE HELL What are you doing?!”

“Well isn’t obvious? I’m committing suicide!” The boy shouts back.

“Stop screaming! and if you really died the doctors gonna see you naked, do you really want that?”

They both paused and looked at each other, the boy scratched his head “well that changed my mind”

“Also, you dropped your diary” he pointed behind her.

Y/N picked it up and removes all the dirt in it, “it’s not mine, it looks really really old and I’m not the type of person who writes in a stupid Diary”

“And who still writes in a Diary? It’s 2105” she added.

“Just keep it, there’s no way you’d find the owner anyways”

[youremyonlyhope]

Eve of the Daleks

I literally only just found out like 3 days ago that the episode was airing at 2pm and that 8pm would be the encore. So yay! Watching the show as it airs with the Brits for once!

Also, I love how it seems that Daleks never want to show up unless it’s New Year’s Day. For Thirteen’s whole run, the Daleks are like “No, let the Doctor be. It’s not New Year’s Eve yet... Ok NOW we attack”

Rewatching the last half of the Vanquishers and I forgot how much I adore Azure’s coat. I really need to make it.

Whoever this Jeff guy is, he sucks. Nick seems like a sweetheart Sarah looks familiar. And I don’t know why... Aww the goggles are back! Is the TARDIS going to redesign when it resets? Yaz is excited to run, and Dan’s so tired of it all already.

My wifi sucks, so wish me luck in this running without buffering. The quality’s gone pixely so that’s a great sign.

NO NICK! How many times does the Doctor have to come upon a dead body in their lifetime? “What’s a Dalek?” Oh poor sweet Dan. “Daleks learn” Doctor, I don’t know why you’re shocked. I was about to ask if we’ve had an episode where the Doctor died right away, then I remembered Turn Left, and the Astronaut, and of course Heaven Sent. Well at least they’ve all noticed the deja vu time loop right away. Wait. Did the Doctor know there was a second person in the building? Did she meet Sarah? Did I miss her discovering her body too? Why is it firing multiple shots rather than just one? I was scared this mom would have to hear her daughter die for a moment. Sarah, why run towards the Dalek... I mean I like the ambition but that’s not gonna work out. “Time Loop” “Time Loop” “Groundhog Day” awwwww. “We both came to find each other!” “Yeah... that was it.” Sarah come on. I love that Nick is more confused about inspectors coming on a holiday than the Dalek. Nick shhhhh. You’re digging herself into a hole. Don’t. ”Bit harsh.” Yeah... OK yeah Sarah you’re taking out some frustration now. Yes Nick has some abnormal habits, and it was borderline creepy for a moment there, but no need to go this hard. Oh god. Nick no. Yeah that door was never going to hold. I wonder if the Dalek heard all that.

I gotta google and figure out why I know Sarah’s actress. Ok as far as I know, I’ve never seen anything she’s in. But she did Task Master so that was probably it, I probably saw clips of her episodes on YouTube at some point.

DAN NO SWEETHEART NO. NO. Well I’m glad she came clean and apologized. Ew Jeff lives here? Nick feels familiar now too. Hmm. Why does Nick always die first? Besides this time when Dan died first. “Which particular actions?” Yeah you gotta be more specific. Yaz looking at Doctor when Sarah’s talking about good-hearted weirdos being keepers... amazing. Oh god. Nick doesn’t survive past five-to. I was right to notice it. Ughhh someone go get him please.

I googled Nick’s actor and I haven’t seen anything he’s in either, but he’s in a show called Dreaming Whilst Black, so I might have to check that out.

YES NICK!!!!!!!! WHY DID NO ONE DO THAT BEFORE?!?!!?!? Good plan. But did they say who should go upstairs and who should go to the basement? Well Sarah just died so you got restart again anyway. DAN ARE YOU MAKING THIS CANON?? IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING? SO THASMIN IS NOT A DELUSION?? Duck! They should have pulled a Nick and DUCKED! But I guess since the Dalek’s didn’t scream Exterminate that they didn’t get the warning it was happening.

BUT OH. MY GOD. I really wasn’t sure that Doctor Who would go there. They barely let Clara go beyond like implications of “There was one other man, but he was impossible” and “If you love me in anyway you’ll come back.” But they’re doing it! At least, they’re making it explicit from Yaz’s side. Oh my god. It’s happening. Where’s that Office gif...

(Also seriously, if anyone can point me towards any adorable fics of Yaz and Dan and Jericho traveling the world in the 1910s I will love you forever. I wanna see that bromance in action.)

Oh Doctor, love, no. Don’t yell at Yaz. “She likes you.” DAN OH MY GOD. DAN YOU JUST CAN’T SAY THAT. YOU... NO. “For some reason, you pretend to her, and to me, that you don’t.” Dan you’re really reading everyone like a book this episode. Good for Nick moving on. Nice, decoy. Seriously, the Doctor should wear a watch. Why does the Doctor never really wear watches? I want them to. Next Doctor, I want a watch in the design. And I’d love for it to be set to a completely weird time zone. Or like 20 time zones. Do it. Or you know, just let me design the next outfit. Very reminiscent of Martha’s 42 call to her mom. “Ex. Terminated!” That’s so cute.

Honestly I’m still sort of reeling from the Yaz thing and Dan being like one of your annoying middle school friends going up to your crush and telling them you like them. But a much more sincere version.

It’s all on you now, mom. OOF. That is... quite a demolition. WHERE’S THE TARDIS. Yeah Doctor. Feel some guilt about Yaz. Feeellll ittttt. Hey isn’t that the guy from the first episode? The Woman Who Fell To the Earth? He was scared of heights? I’m not crazy, that’s him right? Ok no redesign yet. “I don’t remember.” Doctor stop LYING. “She already thinks I’m crazy for traveling with a man I just met” Aww. Moms are always suspicious. “I feel like it was more of a meet-cute” Ok I can get behind the ship I think.

Someone under the SFX credits was named Rory Williams. I’m SURE I didn’t imagine that but then again it did get pixelly at that part.

OH THAT’S CRUEL. THEY’RE PLAYING TWICE UPON A TIME NOW. SO RUDE. Ugh. I gotta watch it. I missed all the Twelve episodes earlier in the marathon. I gotta watch this.

Anyway. I’ll keep proofreading and adding to this as I watch.

That was a fun episode. Still confused that the Doctor knew there were 2 people, but it’s possible I didn’t pay attention to the first few minutes since I was scrolling through some knitting patterns in true Eighth Doctor fashion. 

Oh Twelve. You bring me so much joy. I’m getting distracted by Twice Upon a Time. “You still call it a ship!”

Oh my god. But Yaz actually being in love with the Doctor. Like... not just us wishing it... we’re not delusional... Oh my god... And sweet Dan being the one to figure it out and trying to be a sort of wingman but also to just get the Doctor’s head out of the dirt and see it for herself. Ahhh. Oh my god.

When is the next special? Will anything come of this? I imagine nothing can come of it since both Jodie and Mandip are leaving after the specials finish up. God I hope Yaz doesn’t die like right after admitting her love... I’m gonna be so sad.

Also, Twice Upon the Time using WW1 as a setting just to purely break my heart even more... still not over it. WWI always makes me sad. “World War One. What do you mean, one?” I always softly sadly gasp when I hear that line.

Anyway. That was fun. And I’m back to Doctor Who withdrawal until the next special.

Oh my god the way that Twelve just SPRINTS out the TARDIS when he sees Bill. And hugs her. I can’t handle it. Their friendship was my favorite.

Also I have no clue if that guy was the same one from Thirteen’s first episode. IMDB isn’t helping me right now and I’m too into Twice Upon a Time now to dig any deeper. yay!

[bisexualfelicity]

No Other Version of Me - Chapter One (2/?)

Amalia Queen was once said to be so important that the universe made sure she happened. Yes, it was her mom who said that but it still counts. Now, she's an adult and struggles to be worthy of such sentence. She doesn't want to be a vigilante and make so many sacrifices like the rest of her family, but it doesn't mean she doesn't want to save the world.

Sequel to "Five Lives"

October 2045.

There is something going on.

September was an oddly busy month, one of her roommates decided to move, it was her birthday and then there was her job, which she might have been overdoing. The work she’s been doing in QC isn’t ideal, overseeing their whole process and all of their associated companies to make sure its work was ethical. She doesn’t feel comfortable working in such a capitalist environment, even if it was her family business. But she had no experience, her mom happened to be the CEO of a big company and allowed her to make any changes she felt were needed, so Amalia felt she could do more change by working in the system, changing QC and pressuring other companies to do the same, instead of working outside of it. That being said, she didn’t imagine how much it would have to change when she started and she’s been dedicating her heart to do it.

And, of course, there were all the high holidays which took a lot of the time she didn’t have. So Amalia isn’t sure for how long something has been happening until it came to her attention. The fact that Mom didn’t nag her about not showing up on Shemini Atzeret should have tipped her about where her family’s mind had been on. But Mom never liked bringing vigilante business into holidays, so, for at least a little time, Amalia was living blissfully unaware of anything that happened on Team Arrow.

Continue to read on AO3 or under the cut!

She has no reason to know more than your average Starling citizen. Despite her entire family being intertwined with vigilantism, Amalia prides herself for having nothing to do with it. They do good work, but she’s more interested in changing the cause of the problems instead of the symptoms. They fight crime, she wants to stop them from happening in the first place. Not that she’s doing any world-changing work as of now, but she’s still building her career so that she can, eventually, do her best.  There has never been any bad blood over this, which is why it’s so weird that they are avoiding the subject in such an obvious way.

First, no one mentioned anything. Not even Libbi, who has no concept of what a brain-to-mouth filter even was. Then, there are the looks. The out of context questions on whether she won’t go out of town, maybe study something new or just take a vacation. And, to confirm it, the very much not subtle deflection when she asks about Arrow business during Sunday lunch. 

“Now, is the city about to be blown up or what?”

Libbi almost jumps to the question, Amalia just narrows her eyes. Mom and Dad are gone to the kitchen to wash the dishes, being way too eager to stop the conversation Amalia is trying to have.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all Libbi had to say, shaking her head and trying to look convincing.

Amalia prays that no one ever arrests her sister, because Libbi’s the worst liar she’s ever seen. Amalia continues to stare at her, knowing her little sister has never been good at keeping her mouth shut and is the weakest link of this secret.

“If there was something like this going on, surely we would tell you. Obviously. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Tell me, Libbi.”

If Amalia wasn’t sure before that her family was keeping something from her, the guilty look in her sister’s eyes would be enough to confirm it. Libbi bites her lips and looks back to the kitchen, seeing their parents talking and not paying attention at them. Amalia takes a step forward, closer to Libbi.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Libbi continues, and tries to step away. “Just vigilante business. You know how it is… Crime! Never stops. Always dangerous. New stuff. Bad guys. Murder.”

“Whose murder?” Amalia presses.

“People.”

“Then why don’t you want me to know?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you to know? I’m telling you right now. People are being murdered, it’s crazy.”

“Yes, very. Next thing you know they’ll also start robbing.”

“Ha, funny! See, nothing to talk about, seems like you get the deal,” Libbi smiles and almost runs to the kitchen, under their parents’ wings.

Amalia sighs. She wonders if she can try to manipulate Will into telling her, pretending Libbi already told her something to get information out of him. But that would be too risky. They would all be too defensive right now, realizing she was on to them. Deciding to change her course of action, she gets her phone and tries searching the recent sightings of Team Arrow on the streets.

She knows all the most reliable websites, used to check on them frequently during her first year of college, whenever she felt it was a little too much of not knowing. But it has been a while since she had to check again, being back in Star City and seeing her family almost every week it was not necessary. Until now.

It isn’t surprising to find many pictures of Libbi in her suit, she is the newest vigilante and still causes a lot of rampage around the vigilante-obsessed citizens. Apparently, they started calling her by Lynx, Libbi’s choice for a codename, which is new. Last time they talked, Libbi was complaining about being called “Catgirl” or other names; in Amalia’s opinion it was her own fault for deciding to dress up as a cat, she should have just followed the archer theme, but no, her sister had to dress as an animal to “reflect her identity”. Amalia personally thinks it’s a bit ridiculous, they are supposed to be heroes not furries, but her parents prohibited her from repeating it declaring it “bullying”. The fact that Libbi hasn’t announced to her the achievement of being recognized as Lynx is one more indication that her thoughts are somewhere else – or at least that she’s avoiding talking about Arrow things with her sister.

She has to dig deeper to find something out of the ordinary. But then finally she finds a blurry picture of the Green Arrow being spotted in the past week, the online community is wondering if it’s someone new or if the old one returned. Amalia doesn’t have to wonder, she can recognize her dad in a suit, even if it has been years since she’s seen him wearing one.

If Dad is back on the streets after five years of retirement, it’s either really bad or something personal.

From where she is, Amalia focuses on her family’s voices, hoping they’ll let slip something when they think she isn’t listening. She should know better than that, her parents are no amateurs in the art of secrets and soon Mom is back, sitting next to her on the sofa and bringing up a different subject. Amalia doesn’t fight it; it’s not the time. Libbi might have inherited the vigilante genes, but if there is one thing she learned from her parents was how to strategize.

She waits a couple days before doing anything. Taking this time to dig a little deeper, she searches the latest news reports, even the ones happening outside of Star City. She can’t find anything out of the norm, there seems to be a new gang in Star City responsible for some recent conflicts, but she can’t find how it would relate to her. The more she thinks about it, the more it seems personal. It isn’t anything too dangerous for their family, her parents would have told her if that was the case and, besides, she imagines Will would take the twins out of town if there was any risk at all.

Is one of her roommates involved in crime? Amalia thought back to the two girls she shares an apartment with, thinking it is highly unlikely any of them would get caught up in anything worthy of Team Arrow’s time, especially without Amalia realizing. She does spend a lot of time at work though, so who knows what Ilana and Emma do when she isn’t there? Their own work, Amalia answers herself. This is a futile exercise; it’s not like her Mom didn’t do a background check on them before they moved in together anyway. And if her friends were murderers or anything dangerous, they wouldn’t want her living with them.

She wonders if it’s related to her work, but that’s her area of expertise. Amalia would know if anything illegal or morally corrupt was happening in her work, that’s a big part of her job. She has a moment of panic where she questions where she’s somehow doing something really wrong and helping crime, but after a few breaths she convinces herself that’s not the logical conclusion. No need to spiral into anxiety.

She needs to know the truth. That is why instead of driving home on a Wednesday night after a full workday, Amalia makes her way to the bunker. Although her default mode is to overthink all of her actions, her need to know everything speaks louder so Amalia lets her curiosity guide her for once. Besides, it’s not like she’s doing anything wrong by coming to the bunker, no one ever told her to stay away.

As if to confirm her thoughts, the doors open to her, recognizing her DNA without any problem. If her family didn’t want her there, she’d be blocked. Or at least there’d be an alarm going on so everyone would know she was there. None of that happens. In fact, no one notices her entering at all, all of them too busy discussing something near the computers, no one facing the entrance.

Her original plan was to arrive before anyone else so she could snoop in the computers to see if she’d find anything, but, surprising not even herself, work took too long for that. And now, after 8pm, not only the entire team is there but her parents as well. She’s lucky she knew about Dad suiting up again before coming or else her shock might have given her away. Mom being there isn’t so weird, she still comes every so often to “help” William, especially since she started spending less hours on QC and is bored out of her mind at home without anyone around.

Making the best out of her situation, Amalia gets close enough to hear what they are saying, making sure she can’t be seen. Libbi, the newest member of the team, is spinning on Mom’s chair, much to everyone’s annoyance, especially Will’s who is sitting next to her, showing them something on the computer. Becky Merlyn and JJ Diggle are the ones closest to Will, both paying a lot of attention to what is going on and ready to hit the streets at any time. Zoe Ramirez, Rene’s daughter and currently the oldest of the team, is a little farther away, keeping an eye at her cousin Elliot, who has decided, on his own accord, he was Team Arrow’s newest intern, much to Aunt Thea’s despair considering he’s still seventeen.  Mom and Dad are on the other side, looking worried.

“We should just go there if we know all of that,” Libbi says, still spinning. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Variations of “Are you serious?”, “You’re gonna get yourself killed” and a kick on her chair all happen at the same time. Dad’s hand is all over his face and he’s probably considering how effective grounding his 20 years-old daughter would be.

“First of all, that’s bullying, respect my opinions,” Libbi continues, not shaken at all by everyone else’s disapproval. “Second of all, I wasn’t suggesting going without a plan.”

“Thank God,” Mom comments, making Libbi roll her eyes, “We are waiting for Sara to finish the plan, Libbi, you know that.”

“But why can’t we start without her? We have all the information we need.”

“I agree we should just start planning, Aunt Sara is not really a part of the team anymore,” Becky chimes in.

“Like she’s going to listen to us if she doesn’t agree. Let’s be real, guys, we are helping the League in that, not the other way around,” JJ declares.

“But we did all the research!” Elliot blurts, making all the heads turn to him for the first time. “I know I’m not in the team yet, but this doesn’t sound fair.”

“Because it isn’t!” Libbi uttered, “If this was anyone else, we wouldn’t be waiting so long.”

“It’s not anyone else, so stop complaining,” Zoe decided to assert her place as the team’s non-official leader. “We already told Sara we were waiting for her. This is not any mission, this is family.”

“Zoe is right. We don’t have time for disagreements right now. Sara already has a plan, after she’s finished the perimeter study, she’ll let us know how we can help. We’re here to help her, it’s her daughters we’re talking about.”

Amalia freezes at that. When Zoe had mentioned family, she thought they were just considering Sara part of the family in the broadest definition. She didn’t think they meant Sara’s family. Is Naila in trouble? All of Amalia’s body wants to go forward and question her parents about that. Suddenly, it makes sense why they are avoiding the subject with her. They don’t want her to know. Maybe they want to protect her feelings or they just don’t trust her with this after everything that happened. A lot of theories start popping in her mind, but before she can do anything impulsive like revealing she’s there, she’s retreating to the door.

She needs to think.

She needs to breathe.

Even though her car is fully automated, Amalia focuses on the road instead of thinking of what she just heard. Emma and Ilana are in the living room, watching something together on TV. Amalia only nods at them, heading straight to her room before any of them can start a conversation. She thinks she hears a “rude!” coming from Emma but doesn’t bother to check. Her roommates will get over her lack of manners.

Closed off in her room, she throws herself on her bed and counts to herself ten deep breaths. She tries counting the facts she knows in her head and immediately regrets running away. She doesn’t know anything besides it involves Sara and the League of Assassins. She doesn’t even know if it had anything to do with Naila at all, she shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. Maybe she can come back to the bunker and get Mom and Will by themselves while everyone else is in the field. It’s far from ideal, but it’d definitely catch them off-guard. She’s sure any of them would tell the truth if she just confronted them, but part of her is not sure she wants to know the answer. Does she even want to get involved with Team Arrow? Maybe it’s just normal business and she’s getting it all wrong from hearing just bits of the conversation. It has nothing to do with her. But now her curiosity is winning and she’s not sure she can cope with just not knowing.

Before she can think of a plan, there’s a knock on her window. The window which is most definitely on the fifth floor of a building. It says something about the kind of people she hangs around that her first thought is who would be climbing her window and not how anyone would do that. Without opening it, she reaches the window and sees a person in dark clothes, looking the other side, not worried about standing in a wall. Her brain recognizes the League’s clothing, but it’s her heart that opened the window without a thought first. All those years of safety training and she opens the window for the first assassin she sees, a part of her mind notes, but curiosity spoke louder.

The person enters and Amalia doesn’t have to wait for her to take away her hood to recognize her. It might have been over five years since they last saw each other, but she recognizes Naila anywhere.

“Amalia,” Naila whispers, approaching her, her face serious, “I need your help.”

 June 2032.

It’s a sunny day in the middle of June when Amalia goes to her first funeral. She’s almost eleven years-old, which means she feels almost grown up most of the time, but standing in the Merlyn’s living room, surrounded by people wearing black, Amalia never felt so much like a little child. All she wants is to go to Mom and hide herself in her. But Mom told her to find Will and is on the other side of the room now, next to Dad, talking to Aunt Laurel. They all have sad faces and Amalia doesn’t need that explained to her.

Quentin Lance is dead. She had never seen a dead person before and now his face won’t leave her alone. She’s seen people in hospitals, has seen her father unconscious in a hospital bed and she thought looking at a dead person couldn’t possibly feel worse than that. She was wrong. Deadness is very physical and she wished she had accepted to stay behind with Will and Libbi like Dad had suggested.

Her grandma Moira died when she was little, but Amalia doesn’t remember that. She doesn’t know if her parents received people in their house, like Uncle Tommy and Aunt Laurel are doing right now. She wonders if her dad looked as sad as Aunt Laurel looks right now.

 “If you want to know, it’s those damn vigilante’s fault,” Amalia hears an old man she has never seen talking. “I told Lance a million times to not get involved with them, that they were trouble, and look what happened! I don’t mind if they end up killing themselves, but getting one of ours killed?” He seems angry and a couple people around seem to agree with him, while others told him to be quieter, they wouldn’t want Lance’s daughters hearing about that.

Amalia freezes where she is. She doesn’t think about what if it was her dad’s funeral instead of Aunt Laurel’s dad. She doesn’t think about how vigilantes dying means her entire family dying.

She can’t think of any of that. She might be almost a grown up, but the almost here is vital.

Today, she’s ten years-old and she doesn’t want to think about her parents being in danger. So she starts walking, searching for her siblings. Libbi was too little to go to the funeral, so Will was taking care of her and would meet them here.

Amalia thought she was big enough to handle it, that she should go to the funeral like the adults were, but maybe she was wrong. She doesn’t even want to be in this room now, with people that say vigilantes should be dead.

Not seeing her brother anywhere, Amalia’s heart starts beating faster. It’s ridiculous, she tells herself, she is in no danger. She knows exactly where her parents are and there are at least a dozen of other adults she knows here. But something wants to go out of her chest and she doesn’t want it.

Almost as instinct, she goes to Becky’s room. Rebecca Merlyn is only three years older than her and she has spent many nights playing with her here. She hopes the room is empty, having seem Becky and her brother Ben both on the living room, receiving condolences for their grandfather’s death. Normally, she would have gone to talk to them, they were family friends, Ben is a funny boy and Becky used to be her friend before she became a teen, they could make her feel better. But they had just lost their grandpa and Amalia wasn’t sure if she knew what to say. She only remembers her grandma Donna and can’t imagine what would be like to lose her. She’d rather hide herself until someone else found her.

As she opens the room, Amalia finds it’s not empty at all. But it’s not Becky there, but another girl around her own age.

“Who are you?” The girls asks and Amalia recognizes her defensive posture, ready to fight. She almost does the same, but decides it’s only going to look more threatening.

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before. I was looking for Becky,” she adds the lie, thinking it explains her better. The girl continues to stare at her suspiciously, like she doesn’t understand. “Rebecca. This is her room,” Amalia clarifies and the girl seems to relax.

“Oh, right. I’m her… cousin,” she suffices, speaking in an accent Amalia has never heard, and Amalia frowns because she has never heard about any cousin before.

The girl doesn’t look at all like Becky or Ben. Her skin is darker, her eyes are bigger and brown. She tries to remember Becky’s aunts Sara and Nyssa and thinks that maybe the girl looked a little like Nyssa, though not much. She isn’t sure because it has been too long since she had seen them. And they didn’t have a child back then. But she knows Uncle Tommy only sister is Aunt Thea, and this girl is not her cousin.

“Are you Sara’s?” Amalia decides to ask. The girl just nods. “I don’t remember meeting you.”

“It’s my first time here,” she says, her voice so quiet it’s difficult to hear, “Rebecca is outside. But I can leave you here alone if you want,” the girl says suddenly, and Amalia has to remember she said she was looking for Becky so she understands.

“It’s okay,” Amalia answers, blushing with her lie and wonders if she should leave, “Can I just stay here for a while? Too much people out there.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I’m Amalia, by the way. Amalia Queen. My parents are friends with yours.”

“I’m Naila,” she answers, not looking Amalia in the eyes.

“Was your grandpa Quentin? I’m sorry for your loss,” Amalia adds, realizing that Sara was also Quentin’s daughter.

“I guess,” Naila answers, confusing Amalia so much that she decides to just stay quiet. “I’ve only met him once. But he was Sara’s father.”

Amalia doesn’t ask why she’s calling her mom by her name, even though the question burns in her tongue. She wonders if she’s not really Sara’s daughter. Amalia knows people can be dangerous, and they can lie about who they are. But Naila doesn’t look dangerous, she just looks lost.

They both sit in silence next to each other without saying anything else, until someone else opens the room. It’s a teen girl who looks a little like Naila, so Amalia assumes it’s her sister. She has thick eyebrows that make her look angry and she stares at Amalia without a hint of kindness, some mix of judgement and threat.

“Naila,” it’s all she says, turning to her sister, nodding at the younger girl to approach.

Naila goes up immediately, not looking back at Amalia until she’s almost at the door. She hesitates and then gives her a little wave, so shy that Amalia would miss it if she wasn’t staring at the girl. At that, she leaves, not saying goodbye.

As weird as that encounter was, it makes Amalia’s mood change a little. She’s no longer thinking of death and Lance’s face, instead she wants to find Becky and ask about her weird cousins. Deciding that staying by herself in a room isn’t fun after all, Amalia leaves as well.

Outside, she finds both her siblings chatting with the Diggle kids and joins the conversation. It’s still a funeral and even Libbi is quieter than normal, but Amalia takes a breath, focuses on her family and friends and, if for at least a few minutes, she allows herself to forget where she is. 

[solartranslations]

Dante 5/25: The Face Beneath the Mask

Dante is acting strange…when she visits the Chief Executive’s Office, some suspicious people are…

~*Scene: Chief Executive’s Office*~

Liberta: Wha, Ojou!? …Crap, we can’t get out of this now!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems nervous

Person: I was wondering who it was!!

Arcana: This is top secret though!

Orso: And who was the one who said “nobody would come to the Chief Executive’s Office”!

Nino: Hey, now’s not the time to fight! It’s not like we’re doing anything we shouldn’t be!

Felicita: *throws knives*

Liberta: Uwawawawa!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems nervous

Person: We’re not intruders!

Arcana: This is top secret though!

Orso: …Well…she’s pretty good

Nino: Oh, she’s definitely good but…

Nino: If there were knife marks in the Chief Executive Office’s desk…it wouldn’t look good for Arcana Famiglia…

Felicita: …

Liberta: Whoa, Ojou, calm down! We’re not thinking about doing anything bad while Dante’s away!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems to be hiding something

Person: This is a misunderstanding!!

Arcana: This is top secret though!

Nino: Come on, that just makes us sound more suspicious. Ojou-san, will you listen to us?

Orso: We’re not searching the Chief Executive’s Office because we want to

Orso: Besides, if we of Intelligence need something from Dante, we’d go to the ship

Liberta: But then this is what Dante told us

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: This is Dante’s fault…

Place: What is Ojou doing here?

~*Flashback: Captain’s Cabin*~

Dante: “On May 25th, the Intelligence Division will have the entire day off”

Dante: “I will also be away on business that day. So don’t go looking for me”

Dante: “I’m sorry that this is so sudden, but just bear with it”

~*End Flashback*~

Liberta: See! You think it’s weird too, right Ojou!?

Felicita: …

Claude: Danger is coming for Dante

Claude: As an apology for before, I’ll give you some useful information

Claude: On May 25th, at 8pm, come to the harbor

Claude: But, if you tell anyone about this, the deal is off

Liberta: …Hm? That face! Do you know something!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: Dante’s been acting weird

Person: Ojou’s gone pale

Liberta: Hey, if you know something then tell is! …It’s alright if it’s nothing though

Liberta: …It’s just. Dante…we’re worried about him

Nino: Okay, that’s enough! If you think about it, we don’t need four of us to search this room

Nino: So, Ojou-san!

Nino: Can you and Liberta go search the ship then?

Orso: Oh, you’re right. There might be a logbook on the ship

Liberta: Logbook….you mean that annoying thing? That says when you set sail and where you’re going and stuff…

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems as usual

Daily: Oh yeah, Dante’s always writing in it

Place: Nino said to come here, so why are we going to the ship?

Person: I wonder if Ojou will look with me

Liberta: I think it’s fine as long as we make it back ok

Orso: …Don’t lump Dante-san with a little kid like you

Orso: Even if Dante-san was on land, he keeps a faithful logbook

Orso: Maybe there’s something in it about this sudden holiday

Liberta: Huh, Ojou? Are you really going to the ship?

Fukurota: Hoot hoot!

Liberta: Alright, I get it…

(*bonk)

Liberta: Ow ow ow, that hurts! Don’t peck me!

Orso: …

Nino: …

Orso: This is okay, right…?

Nino: …Yeah. He’s not a child that we need to protect from the truth anymore

Nino: …And Ojou-san isn’t either

~*Scene: Harbor*~

Felicita: *running*

Liberta: Ojou, wait up~!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Arcana: Let’s find that logbook!

Person: Ojou is really determined

Liberta: …That guy, is making Ojou worry this much…just what is he up to!

Felicita: …

Liberta: Oh, it’s nothing! Come on, let’s hurry~!!

~*Scene: Captain’s Cabin*~

Liberta: Excuse us~…

Liberta: It doesn’t look like Dante’s here…

Liberta: If Dante isn’t here, then we don’t need to sneak around! Okay, Ojou! Let’s find that logbook!

>It’s not on the bookshelf?

(+10 Amore)

>On the desk maybe

(+10 Amore)

Liberta: Hm~, I guess…well a logbook is a book after all

Liberta: Nope, these are all normal books. These are printed so they wouldn’t be the log…

Liberta: Oh! Hey, Ojou, look at this!!

Liberta: I love this book! You know it? The story starts with them chasing a mysterious creature called a narwhal

Liberta: And guess what it really was! It was giant gold ship that could move through the ocean! Then the protagonist got kidnapped, and then––

Felicita: …

Liberta: …Sorry. But, you should totally read it someday…

Liberta: Oh, Ojou! Look at this! Have you seen this photo? I guess the old man was like this back then…

Felicita: ?

Liberta: That pendant…right. Dante gave you that

Liberta: Hehe! It…looks a little big on a girl. But the old man’s had it since he was this young

Liberta: So…I’m sure it’ll protect you. Take care of it, okay?

Liberta: Yeah….Well, it’s weird if I say it! Okay, let’s look somewhere else!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems excited ❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Daily: I want to see what happens next!

Arcana: The logbook…

Person: He trusts Ojou

Arcana: Let’s find that logbook!

~*Scene: Captain’s Cabin*~

Liberta: …The hell, Dante!!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems as usual

Arcana: Where’s the logbook!!

Felicita: !

Liberta: He usually says stuff like “It’s good to keep equipment for making shochu on hand”!

Liberta: That old man never really cleans up…is that so he can hide the logbook…why?

Felicita: …

Liberta: !

Liberta: Maybe, we need to look at this from a different angle

Liberta: Okay! Maybe if I sit in the chair Dante usually uses…I can understand how he thinks and we’ll find the logbook right away?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: Was that a good Dante impression?

Arcana: Where’s the logbook!!

Felicita: !

Liberta: Whoa!? What is it, Ojou!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems nervous

Place: The chair!?

Arcana: Where’s the logbook!!

Liberta: Whoa, the chair opened!? What did you just do, Ojou!?

Liberta: I’ve always seen this chair but I’ve never noticed…

Liberta: Okay, now that it’s open…

Liberta: …Found it!!!!

Liberta: Alright, now let’s read it!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems excited

Pleasure: We finally found it!!

Arcana: What did Dante write?

Liberta: Anyway, I’ll read it out loud, so tell me if anything jumps out at you

Liberta: “May 25th 0400: Departed from the Arcana Famiglia mansion. Today I set course towards my past

Liberta: “I hope to sail with no regrets…” (TN: “sail” and “regrets” are both pronounced “koukai”)

Liberta: Dante, nobody will see your bad puns if you write them in here…

Felicita: !

Liberta: Hm, what, Ojou? “Sail with no regrets” really is bad huh

Felicita: No

Liberta: Huh, not that?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: Ojou is really determined

Arcana: What’d Dante write?

Liberta: Here? “Set course towards my past…”?

Liberta: …Yeah, that’s…not really like him. Okay, let’s take a closer look at this part

Liberta: Oh, look…a page has been torn out!

Liberta: Which means he wrote something on that page…and took it with him

>Let me see!

(+10 Amore)

>Liberta, this is…

(+20 Amore)

Felicita: *scribbling*

Liberta: Whoa, words appeared!

Liberta: Hm, a pencil? For what? You’re going to scribble over this page?

Felicita: *scribbling*

Liberta: Hm, uh…oh. Right, if you scribble too hard it’ll be a pain to erase later. So, gently…

Liberta: Alright, I see something!

Liberta: Um, 1-33-3 Salvatore Street…hmm, based on the address this is where the holiday villas are

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Arcana: We found a clue!

Person: It’s Dante’s fault for not explaining!

Liberta: He told us not to look for him but…we’ve already come this far!

Liberta: Let’s go, Ojou!

~*Scene: Salvatore Street*~

Liberta: I don’t come to Salvatore Street often so I don’t really know it well but, um. We’re at 4 now so…

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems as usual

Person: It’s Dante’s fault for not explaining!

Place: This is definitely where the important people’s estates are

Braun: Miss Executive of the Swords!

Liberta: Hm? What’s with that guy? You know him, Ojou?

Braun: Good timing. I was looking for you

Braun: I wanted to talk to someone from Arcana Famiglia about Dante

Braun: That was my intention. But the only member I’m acquainted with is you, young lady

Liberta: Dante!? Sir, are you a friend of Dante’s!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: That guy seems important

Person: It’s Dante’s fault for not explaining!

Liberta: Then, have you heard anything? I’m sure you know, but Dante is a total workaholic, right?

Liberta: But…today, he went on holiday without telling us his plans or where he was going

Liberta: So, we’re running around looking for Dante now but, sir, do you know what’s at 1-33 Salvatore Street?

Braun: …When I find him, I’ll have a word with Dante about your upbringing…

Braun: 1-33-3 Salvatore Street is the address of my new villa

Braun: Dante visited me there the other day

Liberta: Huh!?

Braun: It looked like he was involved in some kind of trouble

Braun: He asked me to keep maintaining my relationship with Arcana Famiglia

Braun: …It seemed like he was preparing himself for something

Liberta: Wha…what the heck…!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Pain: …What’re you up to, Dante!!

Braun: Of course, I asked him about it. I said I’d do whatever I could to help

Braun: But he wouldn’t tell me. He just said it was his own problem…

Braun: So, young lady. I at least wanted to inform you of the situation

Braun: I was sure…that you could determine the best course of action given that information. …I believe it

Liberta: Sir, you did the right thing

Liberta: Ojou and I…we’re not just Dante’s friends. As Arcana Famiglia, we’re his family!

Liberta: Now that you told us, we’re gonna go knock some sense into our idiot dad

Liberta: And tell him that he should rely on us more!

Braun: …Yeah…okay!

Liberta: Okay, Ojou! We’re gonna make a stop at the mansion

Liberta: We definitely know Dante is in some kind of trouble…which means, this isn’t the time for the two of us to be running around

Liberta: We’ll get Orso and Nino, and your subordinates. Everyone we can and…

(*boom!)

Felicita: !

Braun: Wha!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems confused

Place: It’s coming from the coast!?

Liberta: What!?

Liberta: No, it can’t be…!?

Braun: This is…!

Braun/Liberta: We’re under attack!

~*Scene: Cliff*~

(*hoist) Masked Man: Haaaaa….

(*rumble) (*boom)

Masked Man: Yaaah!!

(*slide) Masked Man: …Ugh…

Masked Man: *panting*…

Masked Man: I won’t let you lay a hand on Regalo…!!

~*Scene: Harbor*~

Felicita: !

Liberta: What is that!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems confused

Place: A fleet!?

Person: But we gotta find Dante!

Liberta: The ships are shining…!? …No, they’re not just shining…someone’s returning fire!?

Jolly: Well well, I didn’t expect you to be here too, Ojou-sama…

Liberta: Uwaaah!?

Jolly: Quiet down

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems irritated

Arcana: That light looks familiar

Person: The children are so loud

Place: The sea is Intelligence’s department

???: I can’t see very well here

Jolly: But Liberta. I thought you would be helping with returning fire against that fleet

Liberta: Intelligence is supposed to be on holiday today

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems irritated

Place: What’s happening?

Person: But we gotta find Dante!

Jolly: Oh?

Liberta: It’s Dante’s orders. He left behind a letter but…

Liberta: But, what I can say now is…

Nova: So I guess, the damage that fleet is taking isn’t from Intelligence’s ship

Felicita: ?

Liberta: Nova!

❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Place: I can’t forgive anyone for attacking Regalo

Arcana: What is Intelligence even doing

Nova: I’m having my subordinates investigate, but we don’t have any eyewitness information yet

Jolly: There’s no point asking the masses but…I understand that the Chalices are taking action

Nova: Normally, I should be making this report to the Chief Executive

Nova: All you do as the advisor is stay shut in the lab all day, it’s unlikely that you would understand the situation

Nova: If I may offer my personal opinion, isn’t that light…from the power of the Tarocco?

Luca: Yes, that’s it exactly

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Place: This is our precious island…

Person: I came because I thought it was someone else though

Arcana: A Major Arcana that isn’t present

Person: There’s no mistaking that light

Luca: And it has to be a holder of a Major Arcana

Luca: …A Tarocco power that can hold off even a fleet…it’s the first time I’ve seen it but

Pace: ……

Pace: But Luca, we were going around eating lasagna, right?

Pace: I was just about to stick my fork into that nice cheesy crust when the sky lit up…

Pace: For a second, I thought it was lightning but then Debito was all “That’s not how it sounds!”…

Luca: That’s right. So it wasn’t us

Felicita: …

Liberta: It wasn’t me or Ojou either. We were running around looking for Dante all day

Nova: Obviously it’s not me. I was giving orders to my subordinates, and then came here

Nova: I had no time to use the Tarocco’s power against the enemy fleet

Luca: …Jolly. I thought that it had to be you, but?

Jolly: It wasn’t me

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems as usual

Person: I was reluctant to even come here

Daily: The children are so loud

Place: The sea is Intelligence’s department

???: I can’t see very well here

Jolly: As you can see, someone who stays in the lab all day like me, wouldn’t be going out to a place like this…

Jolly: I am only doing so because Mondo can’t move, and the Chief Executive is absent

Jolly: And it appears that the Deputy Chief Executive was absorbed in “sticking his fork into that nice cheesy crust”

Jolly: …So, Luca. When do you think I had the time to drive back that fleet?

Luca: Then, who…?

Jolly: Someone possessing a power great enough to do so and isn’t here…

Jolly: …You know the answer, don’t you?

Felicita: …!

Liberta: It’s Dante!! What’s that old man doing!?

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Person: When the fleet arrived, Dante was the only one alone!

Pain: That’s reckless!

Pace: Yeah, no matter how strong Dante is, he has his limits! If he keeps using the Tarocco’s power like that…

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Pain: What is Dante thinking…

Arcana: We’ll protect our island together

Liberta: I’ll go look for him!

Nova: Wait. Jolly is the one in command now

❤≪Nova≫ Seems as usual

Arcana: I want to protect the island too

Person: But it’s not like I don’t understand how you feel…

Nova: Jolly, what’s your decision?

Jolly: As holders of the Major Arcana

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems as usual

Arcana: We will deal with this mess immediately

Daily: The children are so loud

???: I can’t see very well here

Jolly: Our fundamental duty is to protect the peace and independence of Regalo

Jolly: So what is it that we must do to accomplish that?

Jolly: That would be to capture every single person on those unidentified ships

Jolly: It would be trouble if they were to land and use civilians as shields

Jolly: Nova, Pace

Jolly: Patrol the town with the Chalices and Clubs

Jolly: Arrest anyone who seems suspicious

Jolly: In this situation, use whatever methods seem fit. …You understand what that means, yes?

Nova: Understood!

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Arcana: We’ll protect our island together!

Arcana: We’ll protect Regalo!

Pace: Okay! You got it!

Jolly: Luca, you stay here and respond to any emergencies

Luca: Understood

❤≪Luca≫ Seems as usual

Arcana: …That means we’re in a state of emergency

???: I can’t see very well here

Jolly: And, Liberta

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems as usual

Place: I’ve got to get to Dante fast!

Liberta: !? Wh, what?

Jolly: As of now, you’re the acting head of Intelligence

Liberta: The acting head of Intelligence!?

Jolly: Gather the members of Intelligence, and pursue the enemy fleet in the patrol ship

❤≪Jolly≫ Seems as usual

Person: This is a favor…

Daily: The children are so loud

Arcana: Now, for Ojou-sama

???: I can’t see very well here

Liberta: G, got it! We’ll definitely catch them!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems nervous

Arcana: …I’m the acting head of Intelligence

Jolly: And lastly Ojou-sama, you will…

Jolly: You will have a job we likely cannot accomplish

Jolly: I’ll leave the search for The Emperor to you. Got it? Make sure you find him and drag him back here

Liberta: Ojou! Please take care of Dante!

❤≪Liberta≫ Seems concerned

Link: I trust Ojou and Dante!!

Arcana: I’m not confident in myself but…no, I’ll do it!

Liberta: I’ll do the best I can as the acting head of Intelligence!

Felicita: Okay

Liberta: Please, Ojou!! We haven’t all gotten a chance…to talk this out yet!

~*Scene: Cliff*~

Masked Man: *pant, pant*…

(*shaky)

Masked Man: !?

Claude: Well, good job Dante

Masked Man: You…Claude…

Claude: So you can pretty much destroy the fleet on your own…huh

Claude: But, if you overuse the Tarocco you end up like that

Masked Man: …I’ve trained to specialize in and infiltration combat

Masked Man: Even without the Tarocco, you can’t…!

Claude: Hah! As if you could do anything in that state!

(*grip) (*whish)

(*clang) Masked Man: Guh…

Claude: See! See!! Your movements are slow…!

(*slash)

Masked Man: …!!

(*grip) (*whish) (*clang) (*slide)

Claude: Oh…will you look at that. Nice to see you, Ojou-san

Claude: I gave you enough warning to get away safely, but oh well

Claude: You’ll have to become an experimental subject so that my country of Nord can unravel the mysteries of the Tarocco’s power then

Felicita: *grips knives*

>Surrender now!

(+20 Amore)

>He didn’t obey the deportation?

(+10 Amore)

>I won’t let this go your way!

(No Amore)

(*whish) (*dodge)

Claude: As if I’d surrender just ‘cause you told me to…!

(*whish)

(*whish) (*dodge)

Claude: Ahaha! Like I care about that!

(*whish)

(*whish) (*dodge)

Claude: Haha! I guess I won’t catch you off guard this time. Then I won’t face you head on…!

(*whish)

(*dash) Masked Man: Watch out!!

Dante: Ojou-san, are you alright?

Claude: Hehehe…Ahaha!!!!

Claude: I was going to expose you…but I guess I don’t need to anymore!

Claude: Now confess your sins to your precious Ojou-sama, you traitor! See ya, Mr. Masked Man! Ahaha!

Dante: Let him go

Dante: He’s just an info broker after all…and I’ve destroyed the fleet that was sent through his information

Dante: He’ll be chased down by the surrounding powers soon enough

Dante: They won’t bother attacking Regalo

>Why did you become the Masked Man?

(+20 Amore)

>What did he mean by…confess?

(+10 Amore)

>Dante, he called you a traitor…?

(+10 Amore)

Dante: For atonement, that was my intention

Dante: I hid my face and identity for my sin…I came to steal the Tarocco’s power for my home country of Nord…

Dante: I wanted to atone for that

Dante: …Out of everything he said, that is the one thing I need to set straight

Dante: Right, I need to…confess everything to you

Dante: The reason I originally came to Regalo…

Dante: It was…to steal the secrets of the Tarocco’s power so that my home country of Nord could use it for themselves

Dante: Yes

Dante: By joining Arcana Famiglia, and hosting The Emperor…

Dante: I said that I was a pirate to hide the truth of my past

Dante: I’m actually a spy

Dante: I infiltrated Regalo in order to steal the Tarocco and its secrets

Dante: …We should talk about the past

❤≪Dante≫ Regalo

Pain: If I talk about it…I’ll feel better

Link: It’s all coming back to me

Dante: Back when I was even younger than you are now…there was a great war

Dante: Everywhere was subject to the horrors of war, and these waters were no exception

Dante: As an island blessed with unique culture and fertile soil, Regalo was too

Dante: But Regalo wasn’t overtaken by the surrounding powers and maintained its autonomy and independence

Dante: Why do you think so?

Felicita: …

~*Flashback*~

Dante: What was rumored to be true back then was that…

Dante: “Regalo had a new weapon that could wipe out an entire army in an instant”

Dante: Yes. If the rumor was true…then the surrounding powers couldn’t lay a hand on Regalo…

Dante: Based on information collected by our operative, Claude, my home country of Nord came to a conclusion

Dante: In my country, civilians were spreading rumors that the Tarocco…

Dante: Had been awakened by Regalo’s Arcana Famiglia and that they were using its power

Dante: I was just starting out as an intelligence operative back then. So I saw it as a chance

Dante: If I could infiltrate Regalo and steal the Tarocco, I would gain recognition

Dante: And my homeland could get its hands on something very powerful…

Dante: …I suppose I was caught up in the heat of war

Dante: I was closing in on Arcana Famiglia

Dante: I felt confident. I’d been trained to specialize in combat and infiltration after all

Dante: I pretended to be a pirate, and I was proud of the experience I gained from that

Dante: But, by chance. No, it might have been inevitable

Dante: I was discovered by Mondo

Dante: I fought Mondo with all my strength…

Dante: But of course, I was nothing but an insolent child

Dante: I was completely defeated

Dante: I’m sure you know how harshly Mondo treats those he defeats

Dante: But then…the Tarocco took my blood and started to shine

Dante: That was…The Emperor that I now host

~*End Flashback*~

Dante: …I continued to make false reports to Nord

❤≪Dante≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Pain: I was charmed by Arcana Famiglia

Link: I still treasured my home country

Dante: That the Tarocco was securely guarded by Arcana Famiglia

Dante: Finding and stealing it would require time…

Dante: Mondo said that “once I was chosen by the Tarocco, I was family”

Dante: The people of the island trusted me even though I never talked about by origins…

❤≪Dante≫ Seems to want to cry

Pain: I chose Arcana Famiglia over my home country

Link: I wanted to protect this

Dante: I wanted to protect then and this island with lies

Dante: But, now might be the right time

Dante: I’ll return without the Tarocco itself and…

Dante: Deliver The Emperor that’s hosted in me

Dante: I’ll leave Regalo with Claude

Dante: I had devoted myself to my home country of Nord. The reason I’ve stayed here for so long was…

Dante: Because I was charmed by Regalo out of my own greed

Dante: I’ll become their experimental subject and make them understand that the Tarocco can’t be used as a weapon of war

Dante: …And it might be time for The Emperor to find a new master

Dante: …I’m sure you don’t like me telling you this

Dante: You really are Mondo’s daughter

Dante: I blindly trusted my country, and only used that in my judgment…

Dante: While Mondo showed me a world filled with light

Dante: …I’ll stay in Regalo until the Arcana Duello

Dante: Ojou-san, once I see your growth to the end, I’ll say good-bye

>I’ll stop you…

(+20 Amore)

>Then, I’ll definitely win!

(+10 Amore)

>I won’t lose to you, Dante

(No Amore)

Dante: …Hm

Dante: …Right, sorry

Dante: That was a rude thing to say to you as one of the competitors in the Duello

Dante: …What?

Dante: …Hahaha…! Hahahaha!

Dante: You’ll win and succeed Arcana Famiglia…

Dante: And your first order will be for me to stay on this island, you say?

Dante: …Ojou-san…

Dante: There certainly are many unknowns regarding your current powers

Dante: Right…what’ll happen after the Arcana Duello

Dante: Is something we can’t predict right now…!

❤≪Dante≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Dante≫ Ojou-san ❤≪Dante≫ Seems concerned

Link: The future…huh. Yeah

Love: She’s a strong girl

Link: She doesn’t want to lose, right…yes, we’re equals

Dante: Hahaha! Interesting!!

Dante: Right, saying that I’d “see your growth” was presumptuous of me

(*pat) Dante: It was inappropriate to say as your opponent

Dante: Even if we face each other, I won’t hold back at all!

Dante: Ojou-san, we’ll fight a great match, fair and square!

~*End of Scene*~

You have one Heart Voice. It can be heard within SPECIAL

(Continue to Dante May 27)

(Back to Directory)

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Lyrium

Chapter 4 of Damned Spot is up! Read on AO3, or read the previous chapters here on Tumblr: [1] [2] [3] 

Also, @schoute is making a gorgeous comic of the fic! See the first two pages on her Tumblr!

In which there are text messages, and also a party WITH FRIENDS. And also some angst. A longer chapter (~7700 words), but what the heck, I’ll post it all. 

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

Piper solicitously wrapped a blanket around Rynne’s shoulders. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “He saves you from a butthurt asshole in the alley. You patch him up. He walks you home. And not even a goodnight kiss?”

She jumped up from the couch and moved toward the kitchen, and Rynne let out a quick laugh. “Trust me, Pipes, it wasn’t… The mood was not right for a kiss.”

It was Monday afternoon, and Piper had gotten home late last night from her weekend getaway. Rynne had just finished an abridged telling of the Friday night debacle - leaving out all the information about Fenris’s past, of course.

Rynne wasn’t being entirely truthful when she said the mood hadn’t been right for a kiss. During the whole walk home, she’d been forced to suppress the urge to take shelter in the steady strength of Fenris’s arms. She was a big fan of physical comfort, hugs and hand-holding and the like, and Fenris’s timely rescue - combined with the fact that she was already infatuated with him - made her want to cling to him like a baby lemur.

But she was trying to respect his aversion to touch. Besides, the walk home had been… oddly intense. Fenris had seemed deep in thought, and Rynne had nervously blathered about all kinds of stupid things to make up for his silence, and by the time they reached the door of Isabela’s condo building, it had almost been a relief when he’d dropped her off with nothing more than a polite nod of the head and a wish for a good night.

Rynne knew she should probably be more freaked out about Fenris’s past. Being an enforcer for the Tevinter mob was not a minor revelation. But for some reason, she just couldn’t bring herself to be scared of him. Maybe she was in denial, or maybe she’d seen so many action movies that she was desensitized to the idea, but she just… didn’t mind.

Fenris’s past didn’t change anything. He was still the same quiet, broody, private, smooth-voiced, handsome and helpful elf he’d always been. The only difference was that Rynne now knew why he was so quiet and broody and private.

How basic was it that the reveal of his dark past just made her want to kiss him all the more?

Piper grunted and poured a cup of hot tea. “What about Saturday and Sunday night, then? He walked you home all weekend and no kiss?”

Rynne slumped on the couch as Piper flitted back to her side and placed the tea on the coffee table. “No, okay? No kiss. He’s probably not interested. He probably thinks I’m just some dumb girl who needs to be looked after.” She couldn’t help but kind of feel that way herself. What the hell was the point of self-defence training if it just melted out of her brain the second she was attacked? She’d tried to headbutt the guy in the face, but that had failed, and if Fenris hadn’t shown up -

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her knees. She could still remember the disgusting feeling of that asshole’s bulging crotch pressing against her back as he shoved her against the wall.

Fucking horrible, she thought. She reached out and grabbed the mug of tea on the coffee table, then took a gulp and scalded her tongue.

Piper watched her worriedly, then carefully tucked the blanket around her neck and her feet. “Should’ve let Fenris cut that guy’s dick off. That would have served him right.”

“Yeah,” Rynne sighed. “But we would have been there all night. His dick was probably microscopic and impossible to find.”

Piper snorted. “Probably. But once Fenris cut it off, we could stick it into the garnish tray with the cornichons. It would be right at home.”

Rynne grinned at the gross image, and they both burst into raucous laughter. Then Piper wrapped her arms around Rynne’s neck in a tight hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she said. “If I’d been there to watch out for you -”

Rynne hugged her back. “Oh balls, don’t be fucking stupid,” she said. “You were off having a sexy holiday! How was your weekend, by the way? You didn’t tell me. How’s Ostwick at this time of year?”

Piper pulled away and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Her tone of voice was exceedingly innocent. Rynne hid her smirk and played along. “Oh? What do you mean?” she asked.

Piper coyly tugged her silvery braid over one shoulder. “We spent the whole weekend in the hotel room. Except for meals. That is, when I wasn’t devouring Cullen’s-”

Rynne snickered and shoved Piper away. “Thank you, too much information. I don’t want to hear all the details of my best friend feasting on my lawyer’s cock, thanks very much.”

Piper cackled and shoved her in return. “Hey, you said it, not me. You’re the nasty one.”

“Ooh, who’s nasty? Do tell.” Isabela floated into the living room wearing nothing but a silken dressing gown and a grin. She flopped down on the couch beside Rynne, and one half of her gown fell open to reveal a pierced nipple.

As always, Piper and Rynne ignored her nudity. “Piper spent the whole weekend sucking Cullen’s cock,” Rynne reported.

���And Rynne spent the whole weekend wishing she was sucking Fenris’s cock,” Piper retaliated.

Rynne gasped in mock offense. “How dare you get so far into my brain? You pervert.”

Isabela straightened up. “That’s it. I need to meet this Fenris.” She pulled her phone out of her dressing gown pocket and tapped the screen, then held the phone to her ear.

Rynne raised an eyebrow. “Who are you calling?”

Isabela blew her a kiss, then rose gracefully from the couch. “Josie? It’s me. I’m throwing a party this Saturday. Let’s say… seventy-five people. A smaller little thing, yes. Can you-” She paused and listened, then threw her head back and laughed. “Thanks, sweets. You know me too well.” She listened for a moment longer, then grinned and ended the call.

She shifted her weight to one hip and planted a hand on her waist. “Bring your handsome bouncer, Hawke. I won’t take no for an answer.”

A flutter of anticipation lit Rynne’s belly, and she and Piper grinned at each other. Then another cheerful voice joined the conversation. “Oh, are we having a party? How nice! Can I make a cake?”

Rynne grinned as Merrill flitted through the kitchen into the living room. “Is it going to be a cake like last time? Because if so, then that’s a hard no.”

Merrill waved her hands. “No, no, that was just a mistake! Silly me, putting in a tablespoon of salt instead of a teaspoon-”

Isabela draped her arm around Merrill’s slender shoulders. “Of course you can make a cake, kitten. I’ll eat the first piece myself.”

Merrill happily clapped her hands. “Oh good! Mihris sent me a pin with a new recipe and I’ve been hoping for a good reason to try it. It’s kind of an odd one, mind you, it’s got dragonthorn in it, but most of the reviews say the aftertaste is supposed to be lovely…”

Piper, Merrill, and Isabela continued to chat about cakes and cocks and who to invite to the party, and Rynne pulled out her phone and flicked through to her contacts. Finally, at long last, she had a good reason to text him.

She bit her lip as she looked at Fenris’s number. Then, with a happy little flutter of nerves, she tapped his name and started a new message thread.

1:27pm  - hey! party at Isabela’s place this Saturday! 1:27pm  - you can come anytime after 8pm but the earlier the better 1:27pm - dont be fashionably late. i like punctuality in a man 1:28pm - i’ll dance with you if you’re very good ;)

She sent the messages rapid-fire, then listened to her friends’ conversation with half an ear while she waited.

She waited and tapped her toes impatiently for a minute or so, then rose to her feet and went to the kitchen to refresh her tea. Fenris’s phone was so archaic that Rynne probably wouldn’t get the little animated-ellipsis-thingy showing that he was typing, so she would just have to suffer the wait.

While the kettle was boiling, she heard the ding of a new text in her pocket. She hurriedly pulled out her phone.

1:35pm - Who is this 1:35pm - How did you get this number

She laughed. She could almost hear his suspicion through the letters on her screen. She started to type a response, but his next message appeared before she could finish.

1:36pm - Hawke?

She grinned giddily, feeling somehow flattered that he knew it was her. She quickly finished her replies.

1:36pm - 10 points to the broody elf! yes, it’s Hawke 1:36pm - keep your schedule clear for saturday night! 1:36pm - Isabela relaly wants to meet you 1:36pm - really**

She placed the phone on the counter and stared unseeingly at the kettle while she waited. Once the kettle had boiled, she poured her tea over the teabag in her mug and picked up her phone, despite not having heard the text tone.

Indeed, no new replies from Fenris. Rynne nibbled the inside of her cheek, then flicked around on Pinterest and saved a few fanart posts, but she was having trouble pretending to be interested in anything except the burning silence of her messaging app.

She eventually returned to the living room and forced herself to join in with the others’ conversation. An eon later, when her phone dinged again, she shamelessly whipped it out and looked at the screen.

1:52pm - It is not a good idea.

She frowned. She understood that he wanted to keep his head down, but he would just be one more face in the crowd at this party.

She swiftly tapped out her replies.

1:52pm - please come 1:52pm - i promise my friends are not as bad as me 1:52pm - well that might be a lie 1:53pm - but i promise youll have a good time 1:53pm - if you hate it, you can leave. i’ll pack you a doggie bag of snacks and everything

Did she sound desperate? Probably. Did she care? Apparently not. She really was willing to make an idiot of herself for him, it seemed.

“So?” Isabela asked. “What’s he saying?”

Rynne didn’t bother to ask how Isabela knew who she was texting. She gave Isabela a rueful smile. “It’s touch and go. He’s not really a ‘people person’.”

Isabela shrugged, and her silken gown slipped off of one shoulder. “Tell him we’ll all show him our tits if he comes.”

Merrill gasped and folded her arms across her chest, and Piper cackled. “Only if we all want Cullen’s face to burst into flame.”

Isabela laughed and Rynne grinned wickedly, but before she could reply, her phone dinged once more.

1:55pm - I will think about it.

Rynne breathed a small sigh of relief. An opening was all she needed.

1:55pm - yay! i’ll make sure Bels stocks up on the best red wine just for you

She had the entire week to bring him around. Surely she could convince him to come in the space of a week.

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

Fenris shouldn’t have come.

He stood stock-still outside of the entrance to Isabela’s condo. It was a mistake to come here. Parties involved being introduced to people, and having them stare at him and wanting to shake hands, and remembering his face and his name in order to tell other people about him later.

All of it boded poorly. Fenris was trying to stay incognito. He didn’t want to be looked at. He didn’t want to be remembered, so coming here was a mistake. The entire time he was walking here from Lowtown, he’d told himself that coming to this party was a mistake, and yet here he was.

He scowled at the big glass double doors for a long minute while he considered turning around and going home. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He flipped it open to find a new message from Hawke.

9:42pm - i hope your on your way! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 9:42pm - you’re*** 9:43pm - for the first you’re i mean 9:43pm - fuck it you understand what i mena 9:43pm - fuck’s sake

Despite his buzzing discomfort, he couldn’t help but smile. Her texts were just like her: over the top, overly flirtatious, and impossible to ignore. And also oddly charming.

He traced his thumb across the texts, then flipped his phone shut. He pushed open the heavy glass doors and buzzed the intercom for Isabela’s condo.

A loud voice and an indistinct buzz of noise greeted him. “Welcome to the animal house. Who dares to enter this den of debauchery?”

Fenris frowned apprehensively. The voice on the line sultry and smooth, and definitely not Hawke’s. “Is Hawke there?” he asked.

The sultry voice chuckled. “I don’t know your voice, but I bet I know who you are. Come on in, handsome.” She disconnected the call, and Fenris heard the click of the inner doors unlocking.

He cast the intercom a suspicious look, then slunk through the lobby toward the elevators and hit the PH button. He held himself perfectly still as the elevator slid smoothly up to the penthouse floor, then stepped out of the elevator into a short corridor.

He immediately heard the faint thump of bass and the noise of conversation. He swallowed hard, then cautiously approached the door at the end of the hall and rang the doorbell. Moments later, a beautiful woman in a scandalously short white dress answered the door.

She grinned at him and slid a salacious look across his body. “Wow. You must be Fenris.”

He raised one eyebrow and hid his hands in his pockets. “And you must be Isabela.”

She laughed and raised her mostly-empty crystal tumbler. “Guilty as charged. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

Fenris followed her into the apartment and immediately began assessing the situation. The condo was less crowded than he’d anticipated, but that was likely more because of how enormous it was rather than the number of people per se. Two storeys, two generous sitting areas, and an enormous open-plan kitchen were the first features he absorbed, as well as the exceedingly tasteful white-and chrome decor… or at least it would be exceedingly tasteful, but it was broken up by a multitude of personal touches - knick-knacks, cushions and blankets, and wall art and plants that were variably colourful, chaotic, and cozy, and all of which clearly indicated the tastes of a number of different residents.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Isabela said. “Red wine, right?”

Fenris turned his attention to her and narrowed his eyes. “What else have Piper and Hawke told you?” he drawled.

Isabela smirked. “Honestly? Nothing much. Which is why I was hoping you would come. I hate missing out. What’s the point of being a famous actress if your friends are flirting with handsome boys and having all the fun at home?”

“Hm,” Fenris said as Isabela ushered him further into the house and further into the cheerfully chattering crowd. “Is that why you have roommates? You certainly don’t seem to need them.”

“Exactly,” Isabela purred. “Why else would I own an extravagantly large penthouse if it’s not to fill it with beautiful women and party all the time?”

Fenris huffed in amusement, then followed Isabela into the kitchen. Myriad people were laughing and drinking therein, and as he waited for Isabela to pour his wine, he caught sight of a familiar face - or rather, a familiar silvery fall of hair.

He slowly drifted away from Isabela to join Piper, who was talking animatedly to an attractive blond man. “...and this asshole clips me on my bike. So naturally, I go after him.”

“Maker preserve me, Piper,” the man groaned. Piper chuckled, then glanced over in Fenris’s direction.

She straightened and smiled. “Fenris! You’re finally here! Hawke was - we weren’t sure if you were going to show!”

He tilted his head in a polite nod. “My apologies. I wasn’t sure if I would come, either.”

Piper’s blond companion gave him a half-smile. “Not a fan of parties, I take it?”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Not particularly.”

The man folded his arms. “Neither am I. The, um, unwanted attention usually makes such events more annoying than they’re worth.”

“Oh, Cullen. Are you complaining again about being too handsome?” Isabela wafted over and handed Fenris a glass of wine. “It’s such a hard life, isn’t it?”

Cullen shot Isabela a chiding look. “We don’t all make careers off of our looks, Isabela.”

“More’s the pity,” she replied, then winked at him.

Fenris raised his eyebrows in recognition. “So you are Piper’s boyfriend,” he said to Cullen. “She and Hawke have spoken highly of you.”

Piper smacked herself in the forehead. “Right! You haven’t met! I’m so sorry - Fenris, this is Cullen. Cullen, Fenris.”   

Cullen smiled and held out his hand to shake. With a small internal sigh - and so the handshaking begins - Fenris briefly grasped Cullen’s proffered hand. “I hear your law practice is very successful. And very busy.”

“Too busy, at times,” Cullen said ruefully. “I haven’t had a chance to take a case like Hawke’s in a very long time.”

Fenris frowned. “...Hawke’s?”

“Oh,” Piper said brightly. “I forgot to tell you. Cullen sometimes takes pro bono cases for us little people who can’t afford a big fancy lawyer. He’s very generous with his time that way.” She looped her hand through Cullen’s elbow and gave him an adoring look.

Isabela made a mock-vomiting noise, and Piper snickered and punched her in the shoulder. Meanwhile, Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly. His cheeks were turning pink. “It is not - she exaggerates, it’s simply my duty to help -”

“Don’t dismiss yourself,” Fenris interjected. “That is a very noble undertaking. It sickens me that the trappings of power and wealth also ensnare the justice system. The world could use more lawyers such as yourself, who care more about righting wrongs than collecting wealth.”

Piper and Isabela stared at him, and Cullen lifted his eyebrows appreciatively. “Well. I… thank you, Fenris, that’s very kind of you to say.”

Fenris nodded and sipped his wine, feeling increasingly awkward. The dance beats and the sounds of conversation and laughter were loud, but the stunned silence from Isabela and Piper somehow felt louder.

He returned his gaze to Cullen. “So. You… you worked with Hawke?”

He nodded. “Yes, with the whole situation with her father and the lyrium. I was happy to help. It wasn’t -”

Fenris’s belly jolted. “Lyrium?” he said sharply.

Cullen frowned slightly. “Yes, in his final days. She… she didn’t tell you?”

Fenris stared at him with growing discomfiture. Then Piper cut in. “Shit. Maybe she didn’t tell him,” she said to Cullen. She grimaced at Fenris. “Sorry, Fenris, she’s an open book about it, I just assumed -”

“Fenris!” Hawke’s bright and cheerful voice cut through the noise. She bounced over and beamed at him. “You’re here, finally! Took you long enough. Did you take the scenic route through the docks to get here? If so, I hope you brought us some seafood. The shrimp cocktail leaves something to be desired.”

Isabela scoffed. “Ungrateful tart. I’ll make sure to let Josephine know.”

“Please do,” Hawke snickered. “I mean, you know I prefer my shrimp breaded and fried, but I’m also a pleb with simple tastes.” She tilted her head at Fenris. “Is the wine okay?”

How are you involved with lyrium? The question burned through his mind. Had she been on the receiving end of it? Had someone forced her to deal it? What had Cullen been talking about?

He tried to push his agitation aside as he scrambled for an appropriate response to her question. “I - yes, it’s fine,” he said.

“Only ‘fine’?” Isabela said indignantly. “That’s a shame. This was supposed to be the best stock from Nevarra.” She plucked the glass from his hand and sipped it, then pouted slightly. “You’re right. It’s not great. Let me get you another.”

“Oh. No, that’s not - that glass is fine-” he started to say, but Isabela had already turned away.

Hawke shrugged and smiled at him. “I’m sure she knew your wine was fine. She just needed an excuse to walk away so we could all stare at her fine ass.”

At her words, Fenris instinctively looked at Isabela’s departing backside. It was admittedly a very fine one.

He returned his gaze to Hawke, and she smiled more broadly. “Made you look,” she teased.

He studied her playful expression. Isabela’s curves were undeniably ripe, but if Fenris was completely honest, he was more interested in the slender physique of the cheeky, pixie-haired woman in front of him.

He stuck his hands into his pockets, wishing that he had a wine glass to hold onto. “Your dress is interesting,” he said to Hawke. Indeed, the fabric of her grey-and-white dress was the oddest print he had ever seen: a chaotic pattern of skulls and pineapples, of all the strange things.

She beamed at him. “Thank you! It is, isn’t it?” She snickered. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your wording, though. ‘Interesting’ is not exactly a compliment.”

“Then I misspoke,” Fenris replied. “I like it very much.” And he did. The pattern was odd, but the cut of the fitted dress was… extremely flattering.

Hawke’s smile softened, and Fenris felt an undeniable - and treacherous - jolt of satisfaction when her cheeks started to flush. “You smooth talker,” she said happily. “Keep up the compliments, and you’re definitely invited to the next party.”

“Hmm. A dubious honour at best,” he replied.

Hawke laughed brightly at his comment. Fenris smirked, then tore his eyes away from her lovely laughing face, incidentally making eye contact with Piper.

Piper, who was watching him with a very satisfied grin.

Fenris dropped his gaze and cleared his throat uncomfortably - why was Isabela taking so long with that wine? - and was very relieved when another familiar face joined their group.

“Well well, the broody elf has come out of his hole,” Varric said. He gave Fenris an appraising look. “Our girls finally managed to drag you out, did they?”

“You could say that,” Fenris said. “They’re very… persistent.” He shot Hawke a quick glance, and she winked at him.

Varric chuckled. “Good. The more the merrier at these things, I say.”

Cullen harrumphed. “I have to say, I’m glad Isabela kept this one small. I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time.” He shot Piper a resentful look.

Piper scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I left you alone for two minutes. It’s not my fault that your resting bitch face is just as cute as your happy face.”

“I - but - they started unbuttoning my shirt!” Cullen protested, and Piper giggled and kissed his cheek.

Fenris looked around at the crowded penthouse. “Wait. This is a small party?” The house wasn’t uncomfortably crowded, but it was getting there. There were so many people that Fenris wasn’t even worrying anymore about being recognized or remembered.

“Oh yeah,” Varric drawled. “You’ve got room to move? Then it’s a small party. This place can get worse than a nightclub on a good night.”

“Why are we even still standing in the kitchen?” Hawke demanded. “We should go upstairs. The upstairs living room is usually less busy.”

Then Isabela reappeared behind Varric. “Sorry for the hold-up,” she said as she handed Fenris his wine. “Now, whose cock size were you gossiping about? Don’t be shy. Fill me in. I mean, I’m fairly sure Varric’s is the biggest, but let’s just say -”

“We were discussing going upstairs,” Cullen interrupted loudly. “A fine idea, I think, if it means fewer people around.”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “I thought Piper brought you along to loosen up, not so your asshole gets even tighter.”

Cullen pursed his lips in annoyance, and Piper laughed and pinched his bum. “Come on, babe, let’s go. Everyone upstairs. Last one there has to dance on the pole for us.”

Fenris frowned. “Pole?”

Hawke blurted a tiny laugh, and Fenris glanced over to find her cheeks turning pink. She shot him an oddly coy look, then jerked her head to the right. “This way,” she said. Then she waved to a couple of other people in the main foyer. “Anders! Merrill! Come join us!”

Feeling increasingly nonplussed, Fenris followed Hawke and her friends up the stairs to yet another seating area that was indeed centered around a pole that spanned from the ceiling to a circular platform on the floor.

His eyebrows jumped high on his forehead. “Why…?”

Hawke sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her, and Fenris took a seat. “It’s good exercise,” she told him.

“And we look gorgeous doing it,” Isabela added. She leaned her elbows on the back of the couch and gave him a sly grin. “Maybe we’ll let you watch sometime.” She elbowed Hawke, and the two of them laughed dirtily, but Fenris noted that Hawke’s cheeks were still pink.

Isabela drifted away to join Varric, Cullen and Piper on the other couch, and Fenris met Hawke’s eyes. She was still smiling, but there was something else about her expression that made him feel oddly jittery. Something almost… deep, or weighted, but not in a bad way - in a nice, warm way, in fact.

He nervously gnawed the inside of his cheek as he cast around for something to say, but Hawke spoke first. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

Her tone was warm and serious. Fenris stared at her, feeling strangely at a loss for words. “I-”

Another handsome blond stranger suddenly swooped in and hugged her. “Hawke! There you are. I was just catching up with Merrill. She was going on about that blood lotus treatment of hers and the talk she gave at the Arlathvhen, it doesn’t sound like it went over too well -”

“Anders, I told you, it wasn’t the blood lotus part they didn’t like,” a small Dalish girl interjected. She folded her arms and frowned at the new blond man. “I just didn’t explain it well. Hawke, can I practice my presentation with you next time, you know I’m not a very good public speaker…”

The blond man shook his head. “There’s not enough evidence to support the use of blood lotus in medicine, Merrill.”

Fenris watched with growing puzzlement as the Dalish girl’s ears began turning red. “Healing isn’t all about Fereldan medicine!” she snapped. “Traditional elvhen healing isn’t worthless just because there’s insufficient research. But try telling that to your research funding bodies!”

“You two do know this is a party, right?” Hawke drawled. “It’s not a medical conference.”

Anders opened his mouth, then released a little chuckle and sat on the platform that the dancing pole was affixed to. “Right. Sorry, Hawke, sometimes I get overexcited -”

“This is Fenris, by the way,” Hawke interrupted. “He works with me and Pipes. Fenris, this is Anders and Merrill. Anders is a doctor. Merrill is a Dalish healer.”

Anders nodded politely, and Merrill smiled at Fenris. “Aneth ara. I’ve never seen vallaslin like yours before.” Her eyes fell on his hands, which were resting on his knees.

He frowned and tucked his hands back into his pockets. “It is not vallaslin. I am not Dalish.”

Merrill’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sorry, I thought -”

“Sorry, Hawke, I just have to tell you this one thing,” Anders interrupted excitedly. “I finally got that funding I was telling you about! We’ll be able to start the project in about a month, as soon as we’ve finalized the contract with the lyrium supplier.”

Fenris whipped around and narrowed his eyes at Anders. “You work with lyrium?”

“Yes, of course,” Anders said in surprise. “All physicians in Kirkwall do. It’s the only city in the Free Marches where the use of lyrium is legal across the board.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Fenris said brusquely.

Beside him, Hawke went still. Anders recoiled slightly. “You can’t be serious,” he said slowly. “Lyrium saves lives. It’s both a painkiller and a stimulant for the immune system if it’s used safely-”

“There is no safe way to use lyrium,” Fenris retorted. “It’s a dangerous psychoactive drug. There is an enormous market for it in Tevinter. Where I am from, lyrium sales are the backbone of at least seventy percent of organized crime activities.”

Anders relaxed. “Ah. Well, that’s the problem. The Imperium is a specific case. The distribution is much more regulated and controlled here-”

“There is no controlling it,” Fenris said firmly. “Lyrium might be a painkiller and an immune system stimulant, but it is also extremely addictive. It is a weapon used against the poor and unknowing. Tell me, Doctor, how much does a single lyrium capsule cost?”

Anders frowned, then pursed his lips. “It costs approximately $16 per capsule,” he admitted. “More, depending on the brand.”

Fenris leaned back and stretched his arms along the back of the couch. “And you think that your colleagues in this city aren’t taking advantage of that cost? I have read the local news. There have been multiple cases of physicians putting their most vulnerable patients on a higher dose than they require in order to keep them coming back for more.”

Anders glared at him. “The doctors that do that are the exception. They are not the rule.”

“When money is at play, no one is exempt from such corruption,” Fenris announced. “You are a fool if you think yourself immune.”

Anders shot him a filthy look. “And just who are you to lecture about these matters? You work at a pub. What do you know of it?”

“Hey,” Hawke interjected. “Nothing wrong with working at a pub.”

Fenris scowled at Anders’s dismissive tone. “I know more about the dangers of lyrium than you ever will,” he snapped. “You are protected by your physician’s licence and your research funding. You know nothing of how the illicit sale and misuse of lyrium can devastate a family or a town. Or an entire country, in the case of Tevinter.” His mother’s and Varania’s faces flashed across his mind - dead because of Danarius and his lyrium business.

Fenris had never even gotten to say goodbye. Danarius’s people had already dealt with their bodies by the time Fenris had woken up in the hospital. And then Fenris had sullied their memories by becoming addicted to the very substance that had indirectly claimed their lives.

He inhaled deeply through his nose. It is done, he thought. He couldn’t change his past. He wasn’t addicted to lyrium anymore, and that had to be good enough. “Lyrium is a filthy substance, and it is the lifeblood of Tevinter,” he announced. “The Imperium is a corrupt and foul place, and it would not be so if it was not for the lax attitudes toward lyrium.”

Hawke laughed nervously and tugged at one of her many earrings. “I don’t know, Fenris. I don’t think they’d make lyrium legal in Kirkwall if the doctors and policy-making people hadn’t done their due diligence and all that.”

Fenris shot her a hard look. “Don’t be naive. Just because something is legal does not mean it is right. The legalization of lyrium makes it that much easier to abuse.”

Anders leaned forward. “How can you talk about lyrium like this to Hawke?” he demanded.

Fenris frowned at him. “What are you talking about?” He turned his gaze back to Hawke, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “What is he talking about?”

Hawke slowly met his gaze, and Fenris’s stomach jolted uncomfortably at the apologetic look on her face. But Anders piped in before she could speak. “Her father died of a lyrium overdose,” he said. “And it was the best thing for him. He would have been in agony otherwise.”

Fenris stared at her. Bewilderment and anger were churning together in his chest. “What… why…?”

“Cancer,” Hawke said. She picked up her tumbler of brandy and idly swirled it. “It was everywhere. His bones, his brain, his organs, everywhere. We moved to Kirkwall specifically so he could be treated with lyrium. Palliative, of course, since the cancer was incurable.” She took a sip of her drink. “He killed himself with lyrium. But they thought I was the one who gave him the dose that killed him.”

Fenris’s eyes widened. “What?” he blurted. Then the pieces clicked into place. “This is how you know Cullen?”

She nodded. “He got the charges against me dropped. He’s pretty amazing, actually. There’s a good reason Pipes is head-over-heels for him.” She took another gulp of brandy and gave him a crooked little smile. “Anders didn’t even tell you the best part,” she said pleasantly. “Do you know who called the police on me?”

Fenris watched with a growing sense of dread as she finished off the last of her drink, then placed the tumbler on the table and looked at him once more. “My mother,” she said. “My mother called the police and told them I killed my dad.” Her smile widened, and then she started to laugh.

Fenris couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow. He stared at her as she laughed, then rose to her feet. “I’m going to get another drink,” she said cheerfully. “Anyone else want one?”

Merrill and Anders quietly declined, and Fenris dumbly shook his head. Hawke winked and slipped past him, then headed down the stairs without looking back.

As soon as she was gone, Anders glared at him. “Nicely done. You really don’t know her at all, do you?”

Fenris returned his glare, but he couldn’t deny the discomfort roiling in his stomach. Most of the lyrium victims he’d encountered had been young and healthy people looking for an escape. Young elves, primarily, who thought they’d found that escape in Danarius’s dealers as they peddled lyrium as a party drug. The only physicians he’d known were the corrupt ones that Danarius worked with, who misused their prescription privileges and kept their patients addicted to lyrium for years on end. Patients like Fenris himself.

He hadn’t encountered anyone like Hawke’s father: riddled with disease and looking to lyrium for relief.  

He rose from the couch, and Anders grabbed his arm. “Leave her alone-”

Fenris wrenched his arm away and pinned Anders with a glare. “Touch me again, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Merrill’s eyes grew impossibly large, and Anders glared back at him in silence, and Fenris made his way to the stairs to find Hawke.

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

Rynne leaned her elbows on the balcony railing and took another deep breath, then another gulp of her drink. When she’d imagined getting to know Fenris a little better, this was not really what she’d had in mind.

He hates lyrium. The unpleasant truth raced through her mind. Not only that, but he really seemed to hate the people who thought using it was okay. Fenris wasn’t exactly the warm and cuddly type, but she’d never seen him react so negatively toward anyone as he had toward Anders.

But there was nothing Rynne could do about it. She couldn’t change what had happened with her father. Furthermore, she wouldn’t change it even if she had a choice. He’d been suffering, suffering for months and months with no respite even with the strongest doses of lyrium that the doctor was willing to prescribe, and with the fucking law in this city, there had been no choice. The overdose had been a mercy.

She’d had no choice.

Rynne took another gulp of her brandy, and her phone buzzed against her thigh.

She surreptitiously looked around, then reached between her legs and pulled her phone out of the clever little thigh strap that Piper had found during an idle afternoon of browsing around on Amazon.

Her heart did a funny little jump as she checked the screen. The message was from Fenris.

10:17pm - Where are you?

She nibbled her lip, then put her tumbler down and slowly typed out a response.

10:17pm - why? miss me already? ^^

His reply came quickly.

10:18pm - I want to talk to you.

She tugged nervously at her earrings. Why did he want to talk? Was he mad at her? Maybe he just wanted to compliment her dress again? A girl could hope.

She hesitated for a moment, then scoffed at herself. Oh, who am I kidding, she thought. Of course she was going to tell him where she was.

10:18pm - i’m on the balcony. first floor, the door is close to the piano. 10:18pm - and no, before you ask, none of us can play the piano 10:18pm - it’s just there for Isabela to lounge on and look sexy LOL

He didn’t reply, and Rynne eventually tucked her phone back into her thigh sheath and waited with increasing nerves to see if he would show up.

A minute later, the noise of the party spilled out onto the balcony, and Rynne turned to see Fenris stepping outside to join her. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the noise, and then it was just the two of them in the peaceful night air.

Rynne warily watched his face as he slowly approached. He looked… the same as usual. Inscrutable and serious as ever.

She swallowed and rested her elbows on the railing again. “Come to check out the view?” she said breezily. “Kirkwall looks way better at night. It all just looks like fireflies. The darkness really hides the rampant graffiti well.”

He leaned back against the balcony railing and continued to study her in silence, and Rynne turned her gaze back to the city lights, unable to tolerate the intensity of his gaze.

A long, awkward moment later, Fenris finally spoke. “Why did your mother accuse you of killing your father?”

Rynne nervously licked her lips. “Did you know that physician-assisted suicide is illegal in Kirkwall?” she asked.

He didn’t reply, and Rynne finally shot him a very quick glance. He was frowning slightly, but he didn’t look outright angry, so she continued. “My family is from Lothering. They have physician-assisted suicide there, but lyrium is illegal. Here in Kirkwall, lyrium is legal, but physician-assisted suicide isn’t. It’s a stupid catch-22.” She sighed and leaned more heavily on her elbows. “We came here for the pain control. Lyrium is very good for that, especially for terminal cancer patients. But… Maker’s balls, Fenris, my dad’s cancer was everywhere. Even the lyrium wasn’t taking the edge off. And he was too weak for us to take him back to Lothering for physician-assisted suicide. Not that my mother would have agreed to it anyway, she… well, whatever.” Rynne shrugged dismissively. “So one day, when I was alone at home with him, he asked me to help him end it.”

“He asked you...?” Fenris said quietly.

“Not to actually kill him,” she said hurriedly. “But to help him get enough lyrium to… to finish himself off.” She swallowed hard, then shot him a tiny smile. “Did you know you can take lyrium in a bunch of different ways? Pills, shots, ointments, under the tongue, all kinds of ways. My dad was getting it in a number of different ways. So for about a month, he just… cut back on how much he was taking and pretended he wasn’t in agonizing pain. And I helped him keep track of the extra stock.”

She took a deep breath and ruffled her hair. “My mother didn’t know what we were up to. I couldn’t tell her, she… she and Carver were in denial about his prognosis. They thought… Andraste’s tits, I don’t know what they thought. That he wasn’t dying, I suppose. But they didn’t know he was planning this, or they would have tried to stop him. So once he’d stored up enough lyrium to end it all, we chose a day when they were both out running errands, and he just… started taking all of it. The pills, the sublingual tabs, everything.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “By the time Mother and Carver came back, he was gone.”

“So they thought you had done it,” Fenris said quietly.

Rynne nodded. “I was there. The empty blister packs and everything were there. My mother…” She laughed and shook her head. Maker’s balls, her mother had completely lost her shit. Screaming that Rynne had murdered Malcolm, that she would never forgive her, that she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye…

It didn’t bear thinking about. Rynne shoved the memory away. “She called the police. Carver was too upset to stop her. I mean, I don’t know if he would have stopped her anyway. He’s still pretty mad at me.” She shrugged. “Cullen eventually got wind of the situation and offered to help me out like the obnoxiously good person he is. And that’s my tragic little backstory.” She chuckled weakly.

Fenris was silent for a long time, and Rynne twisted her fingers together as she waited for him to respond. There was one last piece to the story, one that gnawed at the inside of her stomach to this day - not because of the truth of it, but because nobody else knew, not even Piper. No one else knew except for Cullen, who had counselled her not to tell anyone.

Finally Fenris sighed. “Hawke, I… don’t know what to say.”

She shrugged and gave him a wry little half-smile. “It’s all right. It’s pretty heavy shit to share at a party.”

He frowned slightly at her. “No,” he said. “It’s not all right. It… it is as you said. It sucks.”

Rynne smiled more broadly, then laughed. “Are you reusing my words?”

He ran a hand through his snowy hair. “I… Yes, I am. I’m sorry. I am ill-equipped for this kind of… comforting.”

He did look rather discomfited, and for some reason, it made Rynne feel more comfortable. She relaxed against the balcony railing and gently bumped his shoulder with hers. “Don’t worry about it. It sucks, sure, but it was years ago. And Anders had it right - it was the best way for him to go without suffering.”

Fenris nodded and didn’t reply, and they stood in silence for a while.

Then Rynne spoke, very quietly. “Your former gang in Tevinter dealt in lyrium, didn’t they?”

Fenris nodded again. “Yes,” he said. “From mining to street dealing. We - they were involved in every part of it.” He clenched his jaw, and Rynne waited with bated breath until he spoke again.

“They tried to bring my sister into the business,” he said. “She - the others on Danarius’s staff - our house was used sometimes. My sister was naive, and they acted kind to her…” He trailed off and scrubbed an agitated hand through his hair.

“It’s okay,” Rynne said quickly. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He looked so angry and so sad, and her heart felt like it was swelling inside her rib cage, and this was not how she’d expected this party to go.

He shook his head roughly. “It was my fault,” he snapped. “I exposed her and my mother to the lyrium trade. It came into the house because of me. I was meant to protect them, and they’re both dead.”

Rynne’s eyes widened. His mother and his sister were dead? “Oh fuck,” she said. Without thinking about it, she grabbed his hand. “Fenris, I’m so fucking sorry.”

He squeezed her fingers hard. “Lyrium is a sickness,” he told her. His voice was rough and deep and strained. “It’s a sickness, and I brought it into the house.”

She stared into his eyes. His deep, brilliant, angry, self-recriminating green eyes.

She desperately wanted to comfort him. To convince him that he wasn't a bad person. She opened her mouth. “I administered the last shot of lyrium to my dad,” she blurted. “He was too weak to do it himself, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch him suffer. So I did it. I… I killed him.”

Fenris’s eyes widened. She smiled weakly. “Cullen is the only one who knows,” she whispered. “All the evidence was circumstantial, so he got me off the hook. But… I know the truth, you know? There was no choice. If I hadn’t, my dad would have lingered on for months longer. I had no choice.”  

Fenris was still tightly holding her hand. His eyes were fixed on her face. She squeezed his fingers. “Do you think I’m a monster?” she asked.

He frowned. He released her fingers, then slowly lifted his hand toward her face.

Rynne held her breath as he hesitated. Then, carefully, so very carefully, he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“You are not a monster,” he said. He lowered his hand. “You don’t know what a true monster looks like.”

Rynne swallowed hard. Her cheek was tingling from the warmth of his thumb. “You’re not a monster, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she told him. “You’re perfect.”

Fenris’s eyebrows leapt high on his forehead, and Rynne flushed. Damn it, she thought. The word had slipped out before she could stop it. She dropped her eyes and laughed nervously, but before she could speak, Fenris chuckled as well.

“If that is what you think, then you must be quite drunk,” he said.

She glanced up at him. He still looked rather serious, but the corner of his lips was lifted in a hint of a smirk.

A wash of relief loosened her shoulders, and she laughed more genuinely. “Not nearly drunk enough for this conversation,” she joked. She jerked her head at the thumping party inside. “Want to head back in?”

He studied her for a moment, but his gaze was warmer somehow, warmer and more intense than before, and now Rynne found that she couldn’t look away.

Her heart was pounding in her throat. His fucking forest-green eyes were so beautiful. Finally he nodded. “Yes. Let’s go,” he said.

Rynne smiled and followed Fenris back towards the door. Perhaps this party wasn’t a total loss after all.

[norwegianfriedokra]

I’ve done it!

It's been a while since I've posted something substantial, but now that the residency permit has come through I've got some breathing room, 11 months in fact!! So, it might get lengthy, but here is everything that happened as I remembered and experienced it.

To get a residency permit you fill out your initial application. That part isn't too difficult, as long as you already have a job offer.  You must have a job offer before your application means anything. Then you wait for them to ask for follow up, because it seems there is always follow up to your initial application.  That tends to be corrections, additional information, or something similar, and there was definitely some additional information needed about my job.  

Next you'll get a letter in the mail, because everything is sent by mail by the Auslӓnderbehӧrde (Residency Office). This letter lets you know what you will need to bring to your appointment, and that you need to go to the Auslӓnderbehӧrde to get a "Wartenummer" (waiting number) in order to get an appointment.  Here's where the real story begins.

After several cultural and translation miscommunications occurred, which for me is most likely way easier than most internationals seeking a residency permit, I show up at the Auslӓnderbehӧrde to get this Wartenummer. I show up around 11am, wait in line for about 60 minutes (that's on average around that time of day). When I get to the service desk they tell me all the Wartenummer have already been given out for the day and that I will need to show up the next day to get one.  I ask how early I should show up the next day and they said people start to show up around 8am.  Keep in mind, the next day they actually open up at 1pm, so that means if I want a Wartenummer I have to show up around 8am and wait for 5 hours before I get a Wartenummer.  

Ok, no big deal, I pack some stuff to keep me busy and head down there the next morning.  I show up 15 minutes before 8am and there are already 16 people ahead of me in line. I think to myself at this point that I'm still pretty early. I wait around for a couple of hours, get really cold and whine at Jens to bring me coffee. When he shows up I don't think I had ever shivered in my life that much, and by that time everyone waiting in line had a general understanding that movement and standing in the sun from time to time to keep warm wasn't going to lose your spot. Thankfully so, I was having a hard time of it. Luckily around 11am they opened the doors and allowed people into the warming interior waiting space, even though they aren't actually open, and give people a small piece of paper with their spot in line.  This means you can now come and go until they officially open at 1pm.  So I have lunch with Jens and then go back inside.  When I finally get to the service counter again, pretty soon after 1pm because I was number 17, I find out all the Wartenummer are gone.  I'm confused because I assumed that the slip of paper was the Wartenummer I was waiting for.  I come to find out that no, actually, that was just the number in line, not the Wartenummer for appointments.  But at this point they go ahead and schedule an actual appointment for me on the 6th of May.  Which wasn't that far ahead and all, but still after my start date for work.  

So, at this point I have an appointment to get my residency permit, albeit after my start date at work.  So I bike off to work from the Auslӓnderbehӧrde to explain my situation...

Ah, I forgot to mention that biking to the Auslӓnderbehӧrde takes about 30 minutes, so every time I had to go there it was a bit of a bike ride. Not bad, it just took planning, right?  

Side note: I often would get a bit lost on my way there because I was always searching for a more direct route, as I kept missing a certain on ramp (somehow) that would take me over the main tracks from the Frankfurt Main train station.  You can see those tracks on the map above, they are quite substantial.  Often my bike tires would get low on air, like really low, so biking was super painful (eventually I got them aired up), also I loaded down the bike with a sleeping bag and other gear to make the waiting easier and the bike was just heavy to begin with.  

...but back to the main story.  I arrive at work and tell them my story. Me: "I have an appointment for my residency permit but it's not until after my start date" *sad face* (see other definition; dejected duck face). Work: "That's cool, but can you please try to get a cancelled appointment (that really means Wartenummer)? Otherwise we have to redo all your paperwork." *slightly annoyed face* (see other definition; it's always hard being an immigrant get with the program...face)

Alrighty then..the next day the Auslӓnderbehӧrde opens at 8am.  At this point I figure, I arrived 5 hours early for them opening at 1pm, but since this is really early in the morning I'll show up at 4am and see if that is early enough. This time I'm prepared with a sleeping bag, a thick coat and tea...I'm ready for it all! I arrive at 3:45am to find the doors already open, and I'm Wartenummer 22.  Ok, I'm probably not early enough for an appointment but I'll wait 4 hours and try anyways.

Side note: During this whole process I learned all kinds of new sleeping positions, and I learned how little I really care about sleeping weirdly in front of other people, and vice versa.

And...no Wartenummer.  

That evening (I think, it's still a bit of a blur), Jens and I are out with some friends of his of which many are internationals, and I share my story.  At the dinner table I heard their stories, and one story was of a person who showed up at midnight in order to get a Wartenummer at 8am.  More information I find out is that there are often only 2 available Wartenummer per day, because it's all based on how many unexpected cancelled appointments there were for that day.

Woah there...ok, I'm a bit intimidated at this point. But I'm like, ok this is my dream, work hard to get your dream right? I can wait overnight at the Auslӓnderbehӧrde, I can totally do this.  You see, as an american I'm sitting here thinking the following, "I'm going to be by myself, in the dark, sitting outside this building, near a slightly industrial area in the middle of a big city".  I'm nervous..and I can hear my relatives telling me not to do it because it's too dangerous. You see I've been told not to go running alone late at night (that means after 8pm) in the US. So for many europeans/germans they think I'm this crazy american, being scared.  That still doesn't mean I'm not fighting against my cultural instincts here.

Anyways, the next time I arrive at the Auslӓnderbehӧrde I show up at 10:45pm, because they are to open at 7:30am the next day...

Side note: Did I mention they have different operating hours every day, so I had to reassess each day when I was to arrive? And as my story progressed I learned new information so I was continually having to reassess my arrival time.  

...I have my gear, I'm ready.  I show up and there are already 15 people in line.  At this point I'm like, what the f**k there is no point in staying, but seriously folks.  I ask those waiting when they showed up to wait in line and I'm greeted with crickets.  No one is talking (or they don't understand english or german, either way), and when I thought about it, it was obvious. You don't want to share because in case you don't get an appointment you'll have to show up again the next day.

Side note: Just because they often have approx. 2 Wartenummer for cancelled appointments that doesn't mean they actually have them every day.  Sometimes they don't have any Wartenummer because no one cancels. That means you might be waiting in line for your Wartenummer for five hours with nothing to show for it.

Eventually one person did pipe up and state that she showed up at 10pm and there were 20 others that had shown up but left, and that they had friends holding their place, so there were in fact more like 35 people in line at that point.

So I'm stressed, right?  When exactly am I going to be able to make this work? How early do I really need to show up?  How can I make this work when I have to use a restroom overnight? Would I need to buy that tool to allow women to pee like men and bring a bottle? Or would I need to find the German version of Depends to make it work?

Then Easter weekend shows up on me, something I hadn't even thought about because all I did every day was think about the Auslӓnderbehӧrde. I find out that their hours changed for Thursday, and that Friday and Monday they wouldn't be open for the holiday weekend. At this point, there wasn't anything else I could even do until Tuesday. But...oh wait..on Tuesdays they aren't even open, so I can't try to get an appointment until Wednesday!

So...my plan became this.  I'll drop by work on Tuesday, explain the situation, and see if they are willing to push my start date to past my appointment on the 6th of May so my new start date would be the 15th of May.  I arrive at work and no one's there, still on vacation from the Easter Holiday it seems. I send an email and get an automated response saying anyone who can make such a decision isn't there, but they will be back the next day.  Alrighty then...Let's try  again at the Auslӓnderbehӧrde.  

I figured I would show up on Tuesday night around 7pm-ish, see what the line looks like and if it's bad already I will simply go to work on Wednesday and try to explain in person. I had bought myself a camp chair at some point to make the whole process easier too, so I bring that instead of a sleeping bag this time as the weather had gotten a lot warmer. At this point I'm pretty pessimistic that I'll get a Wartenummer.  Here's a picture of me when I get there at 725pm.

I was the first one to show up! I couldn't believe it, I was so flabbergasted. I set up my chair, brought out my waiting gear (see other definition: kindle, phone with downloaded Netflix episodes, Spotify playlists).  Not more than 30 minutes after I showed up someone else arrived, said that they normally start a list, and then he made a list with my name first, and then he wrote his name and left. I wasn't sure about the list thing, I hadn't heard about it before, so I figured I would stay to be sure.

It was a pretty nice evening so the first 3 hours were no big deal. Around 9pm people started showing up. Around 10pm it started to get a bit cold but I had brought my down jacket so I was ok. I started drifting in and out of sleep. I remember bolting awake just after midnight hearing the, I believe, turkish guy who had been sitting next to me holding people back saying I was first in line, as they had just opened the doors to let us in to wait inside. Kind of bleary eyed and panicky I grabbed my things and went inside. It didn't really matter though, because the security guy who let us in just took the list, after confirming everyone was on it, and then we waited another 2 hours. Weird sleeping positions abounded, but somehow snoring never showed up.

I definitely slept some more inside.  Warm, in my camp chair (me and that camp chair are now good friends), I waited. At 2am we all got our little slips of paper, which I coveted and stored securely before I jumped on my bike and took off for home.  

I had hoped to get some more sleep when I got home, but after that 25 minute bike ride I was awake again. I also knew I had to wake up in 3 hours to bike back to the Auslӓnderbehӧrde, so I was nervous to fall asleep in case I didn't actually wake up with my alarm. Instead I just took it easy, ate some food, packed my paperwork and headed back out there around 5:45ish.  I show up and…

Side Note: I waited in one particular spot in the waiting area inside when I showed back up and the other 5 after me in line gravitated towards me and waited around me like I was a beacon.  It was rather strange and humorous, or perhaps I was just sleep deprived?

...finally my number gets called at 8am when they open.  I got an actual Wartenummer! Hallelujah!!  I go upstairs for the open appointment. I go inside, bring all my paperwork out, and after 10 minutes of review they find a missing piece of information.  

Unfortunately it was on the paperwork confirming my living situation, something only Guillaume could officially answer as the owner of the apartment. It's even more unfortunate because he's currently in Argentina for work. I had no idea when he would even wake up, let alone see a message from me about the situation.  At this point I'm like, s**t, I was first in line but I'm still not going to get this finished today. Luckily she tells me an email from him confirming such and such is fine, and that if they get the email before 2pm that day I can show up and go straight back upstairs to that room and finish processing my paperwork. Also, that if I don't hear back from him before 2pm, I need to email them an update and they will try to fit me in before I'm supposed to start work. Ok, I'm exhausted, but I bike off to work to give them an update. That maybe, just maybe, I can start on the 1st of May.  

Then I bike home, super exhausted now...wait wait, I stopped off at the store first and bought a pastry and some pringles because I'm also super hungry at this point, and go home. Oh man, I was beat walking through that store. If it had been slightly worse I might have been drooling as I walked around.

So now I'm laying on the couch for the next couple of hours, trying to stay slightly awake in case I get a message from Guillaume or the Auslӓnderbehӧrde. Then around 10:15am Guillaume messages me like the Superman that he is. Guillaume: "Is there still time?" Me: "Are you wearing a cape?" *something akin to Avengers/Superman theme music is now playing in my sleep deprived brain...OMG I'm so happy at this point*.  He quickly sends the necessary email, and the previously super exhausted me who is now wide awake takes a quick shower and jumps back on her bike to bike back, a 3rd time, to the Auslӓnderbehӧrde.  

I get there with 30 minutes to spare before their lunch break. The person helping me is also training someone else so I guess it takes 5 more minutes for my paperwork to get finished.  The actual processing time for the paperwork was so short, but everything leading up to it was so drawn out and exhausting, I was stunned at the end.

Me: "Das War's?" (definition: that's it?)

Nice Lady: "Ja." (see other definition: ah you're so cute, what did you expect?)

Elated I bike off to the copy shop to make copies of my Aufenthaltstitle for work. I'm almost dancing on my bike, singing to the music on my phone. I'm overjoyed that it's finally done! I make copies, and dropped them off at work. Once home I'm so exhausted but still awake that it took me a bit but eventually I passed out.  I think I passed out around...2pm? I'm not sure really.  I just know I snacked hard on peanuts and chocolate before I fell asleep. I woke up this morning just before 6am, and have been until now writing this all up for ya'll to enjoy.

Ok, this was a bit drawn out, but seriously guys the whole process was intense. There were several times these past few weeks when I wanted to cry because of messed up sleeping schedules, unknowns, and the fear of having to leave the country and then come back in three months because I might have missed something.

Revelation: I have an even more profound respect for immigrants now. I have an inkling of what it must be like for people waiting in lines for things like water in 3rd world countries.

I met some really interesting people during this experience. The people waiting in line like me were from everywhere but europe or the US. I met some interesting people from Japan, Taiwan, Tunisia, Uzbekistan, Turkey, and India. Those were the people who I actually bothered to ask where they came from. They were also the people who understood what I was asking. I honestly cannot imagine how hard it must have been for those who didn't speak much english or german.  

I have a request for anyone reading this blog entry. After reading my small commentary as someone without much of a language barrier and a lot of local help I hope I can share this with you all. This process for me was exhausting, confusing, and at times frightening. But can you imagine, after reading my tale, just how much harder it must be for those trying to immigrate in Germany or the US, who didn't have the help I did?  How hard it must be for those who don't know the languages I know, and...for those who didn't have the skin tone I have? Let's also mention that I was, by far, the worst dressed out of the bunch. Oregonians, already known as rather lowkey in attire for the US, and here I am in jeans and a hoodie waiting in line next to others dressed super nice.  Despite that I feel I still had an easier time of it simply from the lack of language barrier, and I'm sure some unconscious white privilege that came along with it.

Whelp my coffee's gone cold, and I'm starting to get hungry. Thanks to everyone who has supported me on this journey, a life goal of mine, to live and work in Germany as an adult. I didn't realize just how much of a dream this was until after leaving that office. The sunny bike ride from the Auslӓnderbehӧrde to work, when I should have been exhausted, was one of sheer joy. A life experience that I hope I never forget. With this I leave you with my theme song during this adventure, "Can't Knock the Hustle" by Weezer.      

[acidblackpirate]

Early Christmas

This one contains a Happy Hyde <3

The air in the apartment hung heavy with the sweet smell of spices and the warmth from the heater.

Hyde hummed under his breath, a foreign tune nowhere near finished, but always on the tip of his tongue. Now and then he missed the past times that came before recordings and before the songs, but today he felt close to his younger self once again. Outside winter was falling all the same and on the inside, he hadn’t changed that much.

Taking a step backwards he eyed the decoration he had put up.

Hyde liked decorating places. He liked to put his mark on a room and feeling like he could be at home here. He liked the small lights and sparkling stars, although he had used so many of them, it was close to bad taste.

Absently he smirked.

So close to bad taste it felt like a passionate embrace, as his lover would most likely put it.

Hyde didn’t care. He liked being welcomed by something he had put up with his own hands. He liked how personal it felt.

With a few dancing steps he picked up his mug again and took a deep sip. The warm liquid slipped to his stomach immediately, filling it with a comfortable warmth.

He had made the mulled wine himself – and it was excellent.

It was also part of the reason, why he was dancing around his apartment now.

The other part of the reason was the clock on the wall, of course.

It showed there were only ten minutes left until 8pm. 8pm couldn’t come soon enough, Hyde thought.

Still humming he went over to the window – stopping short in between to add a little twirl on his way, although it probably looked pretty ridiculous.

The alcohol inside his body made him feel warm and comfortable and it mixed with something curious, that made him even more drunk.

Hyde felt happy.

Looking out of the window he put his forehead against the cool glass panel for a moment and it made him sober up slightly, but it did not make him any less cheerful.

Lately, he had been happy a lot; it really wasn’t like that. He had toured and he had hung out with friends and he had heard the fans shout out his name and the adrenalin in his veins had been thriving with bubbly happiness.

But now he was entirely calm and his happiness felt like something that was lazy and content. It felt like a cat’s purr, while onstage he felt like the roar of a lion.

“Meow”, he mumbled against the window and giggled a little at his own stupidity.

Feeling happy and tipsy made him lightheaded and dorky. Actually, he enjoyed that feeling a lot.

It was their Christmas celebration tonight. He was allowed to get a little tipsy – on all kind of things.

On the 24th they would be out giving a concert. He was looking forward to that as well, but currently he was rather looking forward to more mulled wine and cuddles on the couch.

A lazy evening in for him and everyone else.

The streets below him lay deserted as if everyone had better plans today than to walk them, too.

The city looked colder in winter and emptier, although people were still hurrying to and fro. The decoration in the shop windows and the Christmas songs pouring out from every store seemed to slow down the daily life and what remained was the white sky and the pleasant anticipation of the upcoming holidays.

It wasn’t freezing outside, just cool enough to cover your ears and button up your coat.

They had kissed around this time of year. They had met in summer, but their first kiss had been underneath the fall of winter, Hyde remembered. Back then those lips seemed to hold all the possibilities of the future, like the white sky above held the promise of snow. Soon, it might be snowing once again. He hoped it would.

A lot of other possibilities filled the air, too, as the doorbell rang.

Hyde jumped up, still humming that strange and yet unfamiliar tune as he rushed towards the door.

He smiled widely as he opened.

The taller man with the long dark hair leaned in the doorway.

Hyde performed a little bow to invite the drummer in.

He smirked at him while slipping out of his shoes.

“Merry early Christmas, Hyde”, he pointed out rather calmly, but with that certain smile that never failed to light up his face.

“Merry early Christmas, Sakura”, Hyde giggled. “I made mulled wine.”

“And how much of that mulled wine have you drank already?”, Sakura teased and Hyde gave him a sly smile, which was a pretty obvious answer.

The drummer chuckled and bend down to place a short kiss on his lips.

The warmth in Hyde’s stomach was joined by a little flutter. Happiness came in all sorts of forms.

“Sorry, I started without you”, he mumbled, but Sakura shook his head as Hyde led him towards the living room.

“You should be sorry for this decoration instead”, he laughed as they entered the room.

With a little pout on his lips Hyde crossed the arms in front of his chest.

“I like the decoration”, he insisted.

Once more Sakura shook his head slightly.

“It’s super tacky”, he pointed out, but slumped down on the couch.

Only now did Hyde realize that he was carrying a nicely wrapped up package around with him.

“I will get you a drink, wait.”

Swinging along to mute music he hurried over into the kitchen. The heavy smell of mulled wine still hung in the air and for a moment was almost hard to breath.

Unfortunately, that was the only thing filling the kitchen.

To not come back emptyhanded, Hyde took up two glasses and went back to the living room.

“So, you remember how you asked how much of the mulled wine I drank?”, he started apologetic. “Well, I’m afraid the correct answer is >all of it<.”

This time Sakura laughed out loud, patting the pillows next to himself.

Hyde slumped down on the couch, the world spinning a little. All the mulled wine that had disappeared seemed to have wandered straight to his head without him noticing.

“The decorating made me really thirsty”, he defended himself, although the drummer had not said a word.

“It’s okay”, the long-haired man smiled now. “You’re cute when you are so tipsy.”

Hyde tried to hold back the drunken giggle, but he did a bad job at it.

“Here’s your present, by the way.”

He pushed the wrapped package over to him and Hyde took it, fumbling a little longer with the paper than he would have in a sober state.

Finally, he pulled his gift free.

He held up the ugliest Christmas sweater he had ever seen.

He absolutely loved it.

“If you press here”, Sakura indicated and did so. “It gets even worse.”

Cheap lights started to blink all over the front of the shirt.

“It’s so tacky”, Hyde whispered. “I’m sure you hate it.”

“But I knew you’d love it”, Sakura chuckled and Hyde’s grin went even wider.

“Now, I look exactly like my apartment”, he beamed and slipped on the sweater over the shirt he was already wearing.

For a brief moment Sakura studied him concerned. Hyde wasn’t sure if the concern was directed at him or at the sweater.

“Isn’t it too hot like that?”, he asked.

Again, Hyde gave him his sly smile. He felt smart, but maybe that was only because he had drunken so much. The alcohol usually made you feel smarter than you really were.

“It’s always the same with you. You constantly want me to take off my clothes, don’t you?”

Sakura smirked, but it did not look like disagreement, Hyde noted pleased.

“Or do you just don’t want to look at something so ugly for the rest of the evening?”

This time Sakura flicked his tongue.

“You’re always pretty to look at”, he clarified. “Even in such a horrible item of clothing.”

“I bet I’ll look even prettier to you, once you’re finished with your present”, Hyde chuckled and reached for a second package behind the sofa.

He handed it to Sakura somewhat carefully. Other than himself the drummer did not tear at the paper, but unfolded it with calm movements. In the end, he held up the bottle that had been covered.

“That’s pretty expensive whiskey”, he noted impressed.

Seriously Hyde nodded.

“That’s why I can’t wait to try it.”

Sakura shot him a doubting glance.

“I don’t think you should drink any more tonight, baby.”

Again, Hyde put on his best pout and raised his index finger.

“One glass?”, he bargained.

Sakura gave the heaviest sigh and opened the bottle, pouring both of them a glass into the ones Hyde had brought from the kitchen. He noticed that his portion was significantly smaller, but he did not protest.

Instead he raised his glass, locking eyes with Sakura.

“To Christmas”, he offered.

“To Christmas”, his counterpart repeated.

The whiskey even tasted expensive, Hyde thought. It also tasted sleepy, although he couldn’t really describe that kind of flavour. It tasted like the dark place behind heavy eyelids.

“Sakura?”, he mumbled and sunk back into the pillows on the couch.

“Mmh?”

The room started to fill with a lazy silence.

Silence could sound like happiness, too, Hyde realized.

He put his head against Sakura’s shoulder, but it kept slipping down, although none of them was moving, as if the world kept tilting in weird angles. So, he just gave up and rolled up on the couch, placing his cheek on the other’s lap.

Hyde could sense the heat of his body and the warmth of the room and the burning of the alcohol in his blood. But it was the happiness that kept him warm, as he drifted off to sleep.

[ursafilms]

The Google Earth Murders - Chapters 2 & 3

One Week Earlier - Chapter 2 – The Divorce?

Patricia Davenport sobbed as she slammed the door shut and turned back to her two sons, Tyler and Max. Her husband Roger Davenport stood outside the now locked door of his condo at 131 Riverside Drive. He closed fingers around a key in his right hand, and held a large rolling suitcase in his left.

His jaw dropped from clenched teeth, and Roger raised the hand with the keys in it to knock, but he lost his nerve when he heard the voices of his sons, thick with crying, yelling something at their mother. He didn’t understand what they were saying, but it no longer mattered. He wheeled the suitcase down the hall, and pressed the button for the elevator.

On his way out of the building at 131 Riverside, his home for the past 12 years, he said goodbye to Albert, the gaunt and expressionless doorman.

“Good night, Mister Davenport,” said Alfred, not understanding the gesture of Roger’s ‘good-bye.’

“Good-bye, Albert,” said Roger again, accentuating the ‘good-bye.’ “Have a nice weekend.”

“It’s only Sunday night, Mister Davenport,” said Albert. “We’ll be seeing each other during the week . . . before Friday.”

“Doubtful,” said Roger.

Roger walked to the corner of 86thand Broadway; took the 1 Train downtown to Pennsylvania Station; waited for the stationmaster’s call of the NJ Transit line for Roselle Park; and boarded for the 30-minute ride to the suburb of Newark.

On the train, Roger called his longtime friend, and boss at the advertising agency, The Tip of the Spear, Gary Kaplan. He told Gary the day that mightarrive had indeed arrived. Roger would need the apartment in Colfax Manor, one of the company’s corporate housing properties, in North Jersey in the likely event that Patricia asked him to leave, which she had.

“Do you want me to pick you up at the station?” Asked Gary.

“No thanks. I remember the way to the apartment,” replied Roger.

“Okay, call me back if you have any issues getting inside,” continued Gary. “And you can use either bedroom.”

“Thanks, Gary. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

The conversation paused. Gary cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to come in to work, you know,” said Gary. “I think we can handle the subjective demands of our clients for a day without you. And it’s the week before the Memorial Day Holiday. Won’t be that busy anyhow.”

“Hang on, Gary.”

Roger reached into the side pocket of the rolling suitcase, and pulled out a small bottle of eye-drops. He placed a drop in each eye, both of which were red. He noticed a little girl in the seat across from him. She was staring at Roger, and tugging at her amber curls.

“Allergies,” he explained to her. It satisfied her curiosity, and she returned to staring at her mother, another redhead, her gaze transfixed on the Review section of the Wall Street Journal.

“What allergies?” Said Gary.

“Sorry,” said Roger. “But that comment wasn’t meant for you, and if I don’t come into work tomorrow, I’ll spend the day staring out the window of the apartment and looking at that empty ballfield across the way, and you wouldn’t want that on your mind, would you?”

“Not a chance.” Gary replied. “Come on in, but do NOT mope around the office all day, or I will send you back to New Jersey. Deal?”

“Deal. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Roger hung up his cell phone, and closed his eyes for a moment. He jerked awake when the train hit a rough patch of track. He looked out the window and saw the sign for Westfield. He had fallen asleep and the transit line had now passed four stops beyond Roselle Park.

Just one of those days.

Roger grabbed his suitcase and ran out of the train, just before it pulled out. He need not have rushed. The next northbound one would not arrive for at least an hour, if it arrived on time.

He pulled back his arm to hurl his suitcase across the platform floor, but stopped. He set the luggage down next to a bench in need of a facelift. He dropped onto its uncomfortable surface and waited.

And, of course, the train pulled in 35 minutes behind schedule.

By the time Roger got to the Roselle Park station, the digital clock on his cell phone said 12:03am. The apartment building, fortunately just a ten-minute walk from the train station and through a public baseball field and park, sat on a street named Colfax Manor.

“Manor? That’s rich. Actually, it’s not rich. It’s anything but,” he said as he walked through the park.

Roger, surprised to find the duplex-style apartments of the post-World War II era had been replaced by pine-colored stucco two-story buildings. Their facades greeted him after he breached the baseball field and crossed the street. There were even side alleys between all the units. No shared walls.

He rolled the suitcase up the walkway. Small patches of green were on either side of it, and a healthy looking oak tree grew in what passed for a front yard. He stopped at the front door and found the key to it on his key ring.

“Things could be worse . . . and they will be.”

As a reminder to just that, as he stuck the key in the lock, a fob that also remained on the key ring that read ‘131 Riverside’ flashed in front of his eyes.

He shoved open the door and walked up the steps to the second floor. Roger decided to take the bedroom upstairs. His New York City apartment laid out, as most did, on one single floor. If he had to climb steps upon his arrival at the end of the workday, that is all the better, so as to not remind him of what he had left behind.

He trudged up the steps; found the bedroom; and collapsed on top of the mattress. He fell asleep seconds later.

***

Roger did go into work the next day, Monday. He took the New Jersey Transit Line in and out of Manhattan, and then walked to and from Penn Station to his office and 16th

Street and 9thAvenue. Spring weather had become very pleasant, and the hot summer, while not far off, still remained almost a month away.

That Monday afternoon, just prior to the Memorial Day Holiday, he walked to Gary Kaplan’s office and observed the interior, his boss’ Spartan desk dominated. As per usual, only Gary, the world’s tiniest laptop, and a memo pad the side of a credit card in front of him occupied most of the surface’s workspace. Behind him sat a single bookshelf on a white credenza, which had no function other than to support the empty bookshelf.

Gary, his headset looped over one ear, conversed with someone in German. He noticed Roger leaning up against the doorjamb, which had no door. Gary motioned him in with a single crook of his finger.

Roger sat on the one three-legged stool that Gary would allow in his office. A way of keeping meetings and visits short.

Gary finished his call with a single, ‘Tschus.’

“How goes it, world’s greatest creative director?” Gary asked Roger.

Roger shifted his weight forward, though it had nothing to do with taking a more aggressive posture with his boss. He needed to make sure his legs didn’t fall asleep.

“I’m ready to move back to Manhattan,” he said.

Gary placed both index fingers next to each respective eyebrow.

“I didn’t think Patricia was ready to have you back after less than a few days?” He asked.

She isn’t. The only time I’ve spoken to her is when she needs something for Max and/or Tyler, and it usually involves me schlepping back into the city after I’ve already taken the train out to Roselle Park,” he Answered. “And I won’t keep doing that during the course of our separation, so I have to figure out some way to get an apartment in the city.”

“Alright,” said Gary. “How can I help? I don’t have any available corporate housing in the city right now. I will after the summer, but that’s not doing you any good.”

“But you do have a real estate agent you like?”

“I do. He’s mostly commercial and residential purchase, but I could put the arm on him for a rental. I’d have to call in a chit, but I’d do it for you, world’s greatest creative director.”

Gary reached inside his right pants’ pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He started looking through the contacts. Roger let it go for a moment, but couldn’t contain himself.

“For God’s sake, Gary,” he blurted out. “I’m sitting right across from you. How about you give me his phone number and I call the guy?”

“That’s what I’m doing. I’ll text it to you.”

Roger got off the stool and grabbed the Munchkin-sized memo pad; he took the four-inch pen that was magnetically attached to the pad and shoved it at Gary.

“Either write it down on one of these precious pieces of paper on this pad, or tell me what it is and I’ll write it down.” Laughed Roger. “Gary, you are something. Have you ever used this memo pad for an actual memo, or is it just a prop like everything else in this office?”

“Including me?” Asked Gary.

“Don’t give me a straight line, Kaplan. I haven’t had that many laughs in the past month and I would certainly take the opportunity if presented.”

“Okay. Okay. Here it is.”

Gary scratched out the number along with agent’s name and handed it back to Roger, who tucked it into his pants pocket. He left his boss’ office and walked back to his own.

Chapter 3 – Southern Manhattan

Roger procrastinated calling the real estate agent, but he relented when Patricia phoned him at 6pm that Monday night, just after he’d arrived back at the Roselle Park apartment. She insisted that he attend Tyler’s awards ceremony, this evening at 8pm, for the end of the sports year.

The ceremony, something Roger would have been thrilled to attend, happened to also be an event that Patricia could have let him know about prior to Roger commuting back to Roselle Park that evening. He exhaled after hanging up the phone, and headed out the door to catch one of the last trains to the city.

On the way into Manhattan, Roger pulled the note from his pocket and dialed the number.

An annoyed voice answered the phone. Professional, but annoyed.

“Rick Zeifman.”

“Rick? My name is Roger Davenport. I work for Gary Kaplan at Tip Of The Spear Advertising. He said you might be able to help me find a good temporary rental in Manhattan. At least for the summer.”

“Davenport? I-uh. Oh yes, Gary mentioned something about it to me. You’ve had a little trouble on the home front.”

Roger bit his lower lip and felt a headache coming on. His boss, lovely man, could not keep his mouth shut about anything, especially someone’s personal life. He gripped his cell phone tighter, and pressed it closer to his mouth and ear.

“Yes, leave it to Gary to divulge everything. People could save a lot on email and cell phone services, if they would just tell my boss not to say a word about something. It would immediately go out on the wire services, if there were still wire services.”

“Wire services?”

“How old are you, Mister Zeifman?” Asked Roger.

“Does it matter?” Came a swift reply.

“No, I guess not. Would you like to talk at a more business-like time?”

Silence from the other end of the line and Roger contemplated hanging up when the annoyed voice came back.

“I’ve just sent a few options to your email, which Gary gave to me. Take a look and let me know what you think.”

“Now?” Asked Roger.

Again, silence.

“No, of course not,” said Rick. “Take your time. You know how long decent properties at bargain prices stay on the Manhattan rental market. Oops. There they all go.”

A sharp laugh, like a Chihuahua bark shoved Roger’s ear away from the phone.

“Tomorrow morning at the latest, Roger,” said Rick. “I’m holding onto these as a favor to Gary, but I’m not the only agent with access to these and you are going to have to move fast. The larger of the two is at 90 John Street. If size is a factor, and you’ll have to move in this week.”

“John Street? Isn’t that – “

But Rick Zeifman hung up.

[littlepuddingsugg]

You’re First

You and Joe never really fought. You two bickered back and forth occasionally but that was pretty much it. Both of you were pretty chilled and would talk about something before it became a real issue.

This time however was different. This time it was a fight. There were tears and loud words being exchanged without much thought. It happened all so quickly and just snowballed into a big mess. 

“Y/N I don’t know what you want me to do. Everything has already been set up and arranged, I can’t just back out at the last minute to please you!” Joe yelled throwing his hands back up in the air. 

“You don't have to please me Joe I just wished you actually thought before you acted. I’m sick and tired of you always making the decisions and just expecting me to be okay with everything!” You yelled back from the opposite side of the room. 

“I said I was sorry what more do you want from me?!?!”

“No your not Joe! You’re not fucking sorry! If you were sorry you would’ve pulled out when you ‘remembered’ that you already had plans this weekend.” You used air quotes around the word remembered as you watching Joe’s already angry face scrunch into more anger.

“God Y/N its just a stupid anniversary-” Joe was cut off as he ducked to avoid the throw pillow being thrown his way. 

“Oh if its just a stupid anniversary why did you make such a big deal about it and go make plans for us this weekend? Plans that you were very excited for might I add!”

“We can reschedule Y/N it’s not a big deal! This trip however can’t and thats why I took it. I’ll be working with some really cool people which could lead to us going on some really cool holidays later. Why don’t you understand that??”

“This isn’t even about rescheduling our weekend away Joe.” you fumed.

“Then what the hell is this about because this is ridiculous!!”

“Yeah Joe it is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that in these 5 years that we’ve been together I’ve always, always been second. You only think about YouTube. If theres some can't miss opportunity that will do wonders for your career, you gladly take it. Not giving two shits about the weekend you were suppose to have with your girlfriend on your fucking 5 year anniversary!!” you threw another pillow, the tears streaming down your face. You were really hurt and Joe didn’t even seem to care. 

Joe stood in the kitchen watching as you sank down on the couch, letting out gasps for air as you sobbed. 

“It’s been 5 years Joe...” You said after calming yourself down.

“Y/N its been 5 great years. We’ve done so much. So many things that I wouldn't have been able to do with you if it wasn’t for YouTube.” Joe said cautiously walking over to you.

“Did you ever think that maybe thats not what I want? I don’t need to go on exotic holidays or stay in expensive hotels. I just need a boyfriend who cares and loves me. Someone who is willing to put me first when needed and I don’t have that” You let out a shaky breath looking up at Joe. “I don’t have that and I never did” 

You stood up and walked past Joe towards the front door, throwing on your shoes and coat. 

“Where are you going?” Joe turned and followed you but stopped when you shook your head.

“I don’t know Joe. I don’t know. All I know is is that I don’t want to be here anymore. This relationship honestly isn’t what either of us thought it was and I don’t want to be apart of it right now.” 

“Y/N...I...I’ll find a way to fix this. Maybe I can back out. Y/N just please...-”

“No Joe. You made it clear from the start. You can’t back out because you’ll let too many people down but letting down the woman you love is okay. Have a safe flight tomorrow. I’ll talk to you in a week.” You said before turning and heading out the door, avoiding eye contact with Joe as the elevator doors closed.

You ignored the phone calls and the text from Joe and the boys. You weren't even sure if they boys knew what had happened but it didn’t matter, you didn't want to talk to them. You didn’t know what to do. You had called your mom, telling her about the fight you and Joe had and how you waiting 2 whole days before returning home, ensuring that Joe had gone on his trip. She didn’t help much, only telling you things you wanted to hear and not the things you needed.

You avoided social media as best as you could. It was hard though. On Saturday, everyone was tweeting you and Joe ‘Happy 5 year Anniversary!’ with pictures of the two of you together. You were sure you two were trending at some point that day. 

You pretended everything was okay when Zoe called. You lied and said you were ill and had to cancel your weekend away with Joe when she asked how that was going. You were sure that she would find out the truth soon as Joe was due to upload his video from his week away when he got back but you didn't care. 

The friend you had stayed with offered you the spare room in her flat if you and Joe decided to split. You spent most of your free time there with her, not wanting to be in your flat alone, surrounded by pictures of you and Joe. 

It was now Friday night. Joe was dude to come home tonight but you wouldn’t be at the airport waiting for him. You wouldn’t be sitting at home on the couch waiting for him to walk through the door. Instead you were out with your friends have a much need drink and a good laugh. You had told them what was going on and unlike your mother, they told you what you needed to hear. 

“I’m just saying Y/N, 5 years is a long time to spend with someone. I’d get out if I were you. Joe has his moments but you could do better.” you’re friend was drunk but she was one of those people who told the honest truth when she was drunk. 

“Yeah Y/N theres so many fish in the sea!” your other friend said. 

You stayed out a little longer before deciding to call it a night. 

You stumbled through the door as quietly as you could. You didn’t know why you decided to come home but you did. Joe’s plane landing at 8pm and it was currently 1am so you knew he would be home. His bags were in the entry way and the lights on the main level were off. Maybe he's asleep you thought as you kicked off your shows and made your way towards the kitchen to grab some water. But as you walked past the hallway leading towards his office, the warm glow of light spilled under the door. 

You let out a sigh before changing courses and heading for the office. You knocked before opening which you realized was pointless if he was filming. Turning the knob slowly you opened the door seeing the green screen propped up in place, Joe’s voice coming from the other side. Not wanting to disturb him you turned around and closed the door behind you. 

“Y/N?” he asked sticking his head out the door seeing the lights on in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” 

You heard him sigh a breath of relief and say your name, probably to his camera, before he walking to the kitchen. 

“Hi” 

“Hi”

“How was your night out?” he said cautiously, noticing the questioning look on your face. “I can smell your breath from here Y/N” he laughed.

His laugh, god you missed his laugh. 

“You know you actually gave me a heart attack when you closed the door back there”

“Sorry. I wanted to talk but didn’t want to interrupt your filming.” you said quietly.

“Y/N you can always interrupt my filming because I care about you and us. I love you I really do. And I’m sorry that i’ve never really put you first. I thought I have been but I started thinking and I realized that you were right. I’m a pretty shit boyfriend and I completely understand if you want to end this...” he looked down at the ground. 

“Hey” you said walking over to him lifting his chin, “I don't want to end this because I love you too. You’re just too passionate about your job which shouldn't be a bad thing. I’m happy that you found something that you love doing and I love watching you work and seeing you so excited about the projects that you do.”

Joe leaned it and kissed your lips pulling away and licking his own lips. 

“Wow. You went all out on the fruity drinks again didn’t you”

“Joe, we’re trying to have a heart to heart here!”

“I know I know” he laughed before pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry and I promise that from now on, you’re first no matter what because I need you in my life Y/N. This week sucked not talking to you and I don't ever want to go through that again.”

“I don’t either” you said returning your lips to his for another long overdo kiss.

[justholdinghandsok]

Four more years

Gillovny RPF

This is for @thegatw​, who has requested a fic where Gillian and David are moved by Carrie Fisher disappearing and realize how short life can be, so they decide to finally move forward in their relationship and admit their feelings for each other. 

Note: It’s pure fluff. Thanks for the request my fellow Frenchy! :)

When he heard the news, his first thought was for Gillian. He knew she would be devastated. Not in the same way she used to be when she’d lost a member of her family, or like he was when one of his closest friend passed a few months ago, but in the way you have to live in a world where one of the major role model you ever had isn’t here anymore. Someone who gave her the strength to be more self-confident, stronger, more invested in many causes to make this world a better place was gone. With her, he knew a small piece of Gillian’s heart was gone too.

They’ve both had been grieving in the past few years. And even if they’d never managed to clearly define their relationship, there was one thing they knew about each other. They would always be there for each other when they need it. So he called her. She said she was okay, “sad but okay”. He asked if she wanted to go to the funeral. She said yes. He asked if she wanted him to go with her. He heard her smile. Of course, she would love that. And of course he would do it for her. He had done it before. He asked because it was what he had to do, but he knew she couldn’t accept his offer. He even asked if she wanted him to come over. He could buy a last minute flight ticket and be with her in the evening, if she needed his shoulder. She refused, politely.

They haven’t seen each other for a few months. It wasn’t anything personal, just work, a few days in Chicago in the summer. Of course, they managed to make it personal at some point. They always do. How could he not sneak into her bedroom in the middle of the night anyway? It’s like a tacit agreement between them. They are friends, but nothing else. They have sex, but nothing else. Actually, it’s more like a misleading tacit agreement. They have feelings for each other and it’s more than just sex, but they silently agreed not to talk about it. Why? He isn’t really sure anymore. They’re not cheating on their respective spouse or partner. They’re not hurting anyone. Themselves, maybe, but they can’t talk about it so they’re just going full circle and it lasts for years. Forever, actually.

How old was she when she passed? he wondered. 60, Wikipedia told him. 60… If people die at 60, despite all the kale and avocados he eats and the Pilates and Yoga he does, he could be gone in 4 years. What would he leave behind? A career? Great. Two beautiful and smart children. That’s a lot already. An ex-wife he’d made suffer and a lover who never knew she was loved. That’s perfect, he thought, cynically. There are things that can never be fixed and a few he still can change, even if he only has 4 years before him.

 He left without telling anyone, not even Gillian. If he had a second thought on the plane, he still could change his mind and go back to New-York. For the first time of his life, he is scared during the flight. Usually, he just reads or writes peacefully, smiles to the stewardess when she brings him food and sleeps after a shot of good Bourbon. But this time, every tremor makes his jaw clench and his stomach tighten. He never thought about death before, at least, not about his, but now, it obsesses him. Actually, the thought of her life without him obsesses him. What would she feel? Would she really be sad? Yes, of course she would, he reassures himself. Maybe she would find someone else, though. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell her his feelings. Or *Her* feelings… Who knows? And what if she goes before him? His fist clench at this thought and he asks for a second mini-bottle of Bourbon.

 After a scary ride in the freezing streets of London with a crazy cab driver who probably won his license in a lottery, he’s finally on her threshold, at 8pm, sweating and short breathing. He feels like he’s twelve and knocking at the door of his first date.

“Hi… Piper.” He says, surprised and slightly ashamed. This young girl has not only the same blond hair as her mother, but also the same judgmental and uncompromising eyebrow raising.

“Muuuuuum! David’s here!” she screams, ignoring David, but letting him in.

“David who?” He hears Gillian’s voice scream from the other side of the house. Sounds bad. He isn’t dead already, but she has already forgotten about him. “Pips?” she keeps screaming, but her voice gets closer “Pi… Oh.” she says, stopping still at the sight of him.

“Hi. Sorry, I should have called.” He says, scanning her from head to toe. She’s wearing an apron over an oversize shirt that may or may not belong to him, and yoga pants. There are traces of flour on her cheeks, fatty fingerprints on her glasses and her hair is in a messy ponytail. “You seem busy.”

“No, no, no! It’s okay. Mark baked a wonderful cake for Christmas, and I’m trying to redo it for the boys, but obviously I have two left hands and I’ll go to the bakery tomorrow morning. Anyway… What… How… I mean… Has something happened? You okay?”

“Yeah, yes! Sure. Don’t worry, nothing happened. But really, I can come back another time. If you don’t have time, it’s okay. I just…”

“David?” she interrupts. “Did you come all the way from New-York because nothing happened? What’s going on?” she asks, obviously worried.

He can see fear mixed with misunderstanding and wonder in her eyes and he starts to second-guess himself. After all, it wasn’t a good idea. He shouldn’t have done that. Not this way, at least. How can he explain it to her? And where to start? He should have invited her to a good restaurant, wait to have her full attention before opening his heart to her. He should have known interrupting her everyday life during Christmas holidays was the worst idea. But he was here, standing still in front of her. She’d been kind enough to purposefully ignore his suitcase on the threshold, but he has to say something now.

“Can I help you with the cake?” He knows she’d understood. After all those years, they don’t really need to talk anymore. She knows he has something to tell her. She knows it’s important, but she knows whatever it is, it can wait for an appropriate moment, when her kids are in bed and it doesn’t smell like something is burning in the kitchen.

 The kitchen is the kind of mess you think you’d better destroy it all and rebuild a brand new one rather than cleaning it. He hasn’t seen what Mark’s cake looked like, but he knows they’ve failed already, and he hasn’t tasted it yet. Piper offered her help many times, mostly when she heard plates break on the floor or when she smelt scents that had nothing to do with any kind of edible food, but Gillian always refused. She wanted to do it herself, to show her sons she was capable of doing it on her own. David was a devoted but clumsy clerk. He got pissed off when the chocolate didn’t melt, until he realized he hasn’t lit up the cooker and there might be one or two pieces of eggshell in the cake, but it never killed anyone, right? It’s too late anyway, the cake is slowly baking in the oven and if they don’t let it burn, they’ll taste it in the morning for breakfast. If he’s still here.

 Excited at the thought of a basketball game tomorrow afternoon with David, Oscar and Felix went to bed quietly, for once. Old enough to understand their need of intimacy, Piper went upstairs too, leaving them alone and covered in flour and sugar.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” she proposes, setting two glasses on the dirty kitchen island.

“Do you drink?” he asks, a bit surprised.

“It’s non-alcoholic wine.” She smiles.

“Grape juice, then?” he jokes to lighten the atmosphere. Something important is about to happen and it feels like humor is his only safe place now, before he completely exposes himself.

“Basically,” she chuckles, pouring their glasses with a red beverage. “So? Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing at my home in the middle of the evening during Christmas holiday?”

“I don’t even know where to start!” he says, taking a long sip of his beverage in the hope it would give him some courage, but he quickly remembers it won’t have any effect on him. He should have taken a third shot on the plane.

“How about you go straight to the point?” she encourages, resting her hand on his for reassurance.

“I’m gonna die soon.” He says with a sigh of relief. For a writer, he thinks he could have chosen his words better. At least weigh them before speaking them. Gillian’s face fades and her eyes widen.

“What?” she screams a little, her voice cracking? “Are you ill?”

“No! No! Oh god, I’m sorry! It’s not what I meant.” he apologizes, taking her hand in his. “I’m not *gonna die* but I *can* die. One day. I’m old, you now. And I’m not immortal.”

“Okay. Hold on,” she interrupts him. “Did you just come here because you’re having an existential crisis, David?”

“No! Not really. Well… Maybe.” He admits, thoughtful. “But it’s not about that. I just… I just realized something. You know, she was 60 when she died. People die at 60! And I’m 56. And there’s a few things I really want to do before I die.”

“David, if it’s a new way to convince me to do another season, that is completely crazy and inappropriate.” She frowns her eyebrows in discontent.

“Okay. Stop.” He sighs and takes a deep breath. “I’m not ill, and I don’t want you to do another season. Well, I do, but it’s another problem. I’m here to talk about *us*, Gillian.”

She was about to take another sip and stopped halfway, her mouth slightly open, her eyes intensely staring at him. Two decades ago, she was the one opening her heart to him and immediately regretting it. It took him twenty long years to return the favor and he hopes she won’t be as stupid as he was and blow their last chance to finally be happy together.

“Her death kinda woke me up.” he continues. “We’re not getting any younger, Gillian, and we both know there will always be this thing between us. So whatever it is… I think… I think we should… I mean, I think we should give it a try and see how it works, you know…” He isn’t used to search for his words, he’s always been a good orator and stuttering isn’t in his habit. This little speech sounded so much better when he rehearsed it in front of his mirror, on the plane and in the cab a few hours ago. There were so many other things he wanted to tell her. That she was beautiful and sexy, smart and funny, that he admires her for a thousand reasons, that she was unique and that she was hers and always have been. Hopefully, he still has many years before him to tell her how much he loves her. Four years, at least.

“You mean us? Together? Like for real?” she asks sincerely breathlessly. He nods. He hasn’t felt so stressed since… Actually, he’d never felt so stressed. He feels like his whole life depends on her answer. It’s not literally the case, although he knows he’d taken a big risk. If she says no, if she refuses, something will be broken forever between them. He would have lost her for good. And that’s not something he can handle. “I thought we were okay the way we are now.” she says with a high pitch voice, obviously invaded by many different emotions.

“Are you?” he asks through his tighten throat.

“Yeah, I mean… I think so. I don’t know!”

“Tell me you’ve never thought about me this way and I’ll go. Then we can go back to whatever we were, if it makes you happy.” If she doesn’t show him more enthusiasm to his proposal, he might burst into tears right here, in the middle of her kitchen, and he would rather avoid that. “Tell me, Gillian.” he pressures her.

“But you live on the other side of the world!” she protests.

“You didn’t answer my question.” he says, firmly. “Have you ever thought about us as a couple?” She stays silent, staring at him, her cheeks blushing with emotion, her small fist clenching in his hand. “Gillian?”

“Of course I have!” she says, a tear slowly falling under her glasses. “That’s what I wanted in the first place, remember?” He isn’t sure if she’s sad or angry or happy. All three, probably. He tightens his hand around hers and takes her wrist with his other hand, soothing her heart with slow circles of his thumb over her throbbing pulse.

“I’m not here to talk about the past. I want to talk about the future, Gillian. Our future. I’ve hurt you. I know that and I’m sorry. I know it won’t fix anything, it won’t change anything, but I truly am sorry. I’m not the same anymore. I just want to be with you, I want to make you happy, I want to wake up next to you every morning, I want to make you laugh, I even want to cook for you!” he says, gesturing towards the messy kitchen. “I’m not perfect, I can’t promise it’ll be easy, we have so many logistics to set up and organization to do, but I’m willing to make it work. If I only have four years to live, I want to live them by your side.”

“Would you like to stop saying you’re gonna die!” she chuckles though the tears. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then, we would have tried, and we can die without regrets.”

“David!” she frees her hand from his grip and slaps his arm playfully.

“Sorry.” he smiles. “But you gotta give me an answer ‘cause I’m dying, here!”

“Stop!” She slaps his arm again. “Stop!” Slap. “And stop!” Slap. He takes her two wrists with strength, preventing another slap and closing the distance between them.

The playful atmosphere becomes heavy again and he’s not smiling anymore. Neither is she. They stay silent, staring at each other, observing, waiting for the other one to speak first. Something has to be said, now that he has finally managed to tell her what he wanted. What he needed. He asks again, not with his words, but with his eyes, penetrating hers, whispering directly to her soul. She gets it. He knows she does. Her wrists relax in his hand and her arms wrap around his shoulders. She nods, slightly, almost imperceptibly. But it’s enough for him. She’d never been good at expressing her feelings, but it doesn’t matter, she never needed to, not with him, he has direct access to her thoughts, sometimes, it’s even scary. He smiles a few seconds before her mouth brushes his, waiting for him to capture her lips, as if she needs him to seal the deal. They’re not going to get married. They’re not going to have a baby, but they commit, right here, in a messy kitchen with a cake burning in the oven. For the first time in twenty years, they commit to each other and this kiss is the signature at the bottom of the contract. After that, nothing will ever be the same and if they’re lucky enough, it’ll last four more years, at least.

[reomanet]

Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party – Politics live | Politics | The Guardian

Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party – Politics live | Politics | The Guardian

Conservatives MPs cast their ballots after the PM spoke at an emotional party meeting. Skip to main content The Guardian – Back to home Support The Guardian Contribute Subscribe Contribute Search jobs Sign in My account Comments & replies Public profile Account details Emails & marketing Membership Contributions Digital Pack Sign out Search switch to the International edition switch to the UK edition switch to the US edition switch to the Australia edition current edition: International edition News Opinion Sport Culture Lifestyle Show More News World news UK news Science Cities Global development Football Tech Business Environment Obituaries Opinion The Guardian view Columnists Cartoons Opinion videos Letters Sport Football Rugby union Cricket Tennis Cycling F1 Golf US sports Culture Books Music TV & radio Art & design Film Games Classical Stage Lifestyle Fashion Food Recipes Love & sex Health & fitness Home & garden Women Family Travel Money What term do you want to search? Search with google Make a contribution Subscribe International edition switch to the UK edition switch to the US edition switch to the Australia edition Search jobs Dating Holidays Digital Archive The Guardian app Video Podcasts Pictures Newsletters Today’s paper Inside the Guardian The Observer Guardian Weekly Crosswords Facebook Twitter Search jobs Dating Holidays Digital Archive World Europe US Americas Asia Australia Middle East Africa Inequality Cities Global development More Politics live with Andrew Sparrow Theresa May Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party – Politics live Conservative MPs cast their ballots after the PM spoke at an emotional party meeting May signals she will step down before 2022 election Majority of Tory MPs publicly back May Tories reinstate MPs suspended over sex claims for May vote What happened in previous Tory leadership challenges? LIVE Updated Play Video 0:00 Sir Graham Brady announces no-confidence vote result – watch live Andrew Sparrow (now) and Matthew Weaver (earlier) Wed 12 Dec 2018 21.01 GMT First published on Wed 12 Dec 2018 08.01 GMT Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share via Email Key events Show 9.00pm GMT 21:00 Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party 8.03pm GMT 20:03 Counting starts 7.44pm GMT 19:44 DUP demands ‘fundamental legal text changes’ to Brexit withdrawal agreement 7.39pm GMT 19:39 How to decide what amounts to good result for May 6.23pm GMT 18:23 May rules out leading Tories into 2022 general election 5.57pm GMT 17:57 Tory MPs start voting in confidence ballot on May’s leadership 5.26pm GMT 17:26 May ‘tells Tory MPs she won’t fight next election’ Live feed Show 9.00pm GMT 21:00 Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party. A majority of Conservative MPs backed her in a secret ballot after the prime minister signalled she would step down before the 2022 election. Updated at 9.01pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.56pm GMT 20:56 Ross Hawkins (@rosschawkins) Chief whip in room. Smiling December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.55pm GMT 20:55 The Telegraph’s Steven Swinford says May’s critics are not giving up. Steven Swinford (@Steven_Swinford) So what next for the Tory rebels, assuming that they lose tonight? Eurosceptics already thinking about the ‘nuclear option’ – a non-binding motion of no confidence against their own PM, removing her with backing of Labour, SNP & Lib Dems. They’re not giving up… December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.51pm GMT 20:51 … Unlike Mark Francois , a leading figure in the European Research Group, who is also here and looking a bit glum. Updated at 8.51pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.48pm GMT 20:48 We might get a better picture soon. The Foreign Office minister Alan Duncan has just stood on a desk to taking a photograph of the waiting journalists. He is in a very jovial mood. Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.47pm GMT 20:47 From the FT’s Jim Pickard Jim Pickard (@PickardJE) not allowed to take a photo but if you’re wondering this is what committee room 14 looks like….over 100 journalists at one end, a gaggle of Tory MPs chatting at the other…we will find out May’s fate in 15 minutes pic.twitter.com/KJstqOPpVu December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.45pm GMT 20:45 From my colleague Dan Sabbagh Dan Sabbagh (@dansabbagh) Seema Kennedy, May’s PPS, is here in the result room, smiling looking relaxed. If she knows the result, via the PM, then May has won decently. If… December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.41pm GMT 20:41 It looks as if Theresa May will deliver a statement too. Ross Kempsell (@rosskempsell) Mic out in Downing St for PM statement… December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.40pm GMT 20:40 We have now been admitted into committee room 14. It is the largest committee room in the building, and it is laid out like a mini debating chamber. On one side, there are deep windows overlooking the Thames and there are rows of benches, three rows on each side, facing each other. There is a raised bit at one end for the committee chair, and five rows of seats at the other end for the press and public. There are about 60 more reporters here, and they have parked us mostly in the seats at the “public gallery” end. A handful of Conservative MP are at the other end, where a single camera has been set up to film Sir Graham Brady announce the result. Updated at 8.50pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.32pm GMT 20:32 Two workmen have just walked past, in overalls and carrying what looked like paint. What is not often appreciated outside this building is how it has become a permanent building site. It’s falling to pieces (literally). Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.29pm GMT 20:29 The Irish PM, Leo Varadkar, and the European commission president, Jean-Claude Juncker, have insisted that the withdrawal agreement “cannot be reopened or contradicted”. As the Press Association reports, the pair spoke by telephone on Wednesday evening and an Irish government spokesman said “both agreed that the withdrawal agreement is a balanced compromise and the best outcome available”. He went on: While they agreed to work to provide reassurance to the UK, the agreement cannot be reopened or contradicted. Updated at 8.42pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.26pm GMT 20:26 In the absence of facts, you get … speculation. Here are some of the result estimates doing the round. From Jonathan Isaby , editor of BrexitCentral Jonathan Isaby (@isaby) Tory MPs are not for nothing known as the most duplicitous electorate in Christendom. But for what it’s worth, when voting closes at 8pm my guesstimate is that Theresa May will have secured the support of around 170-195 colleagues, with 122-147 against her. December 12, 2018 From assorted lobby journalists Tom McTague (@TomMcTague) Lobby room 12 sweepstakes. Votes against the PM: @CharlieCooper8 : 88 @IanDunt : 105 @AdamBienkov : 101 @TomMcTague : 73 @NewsAnnabelle : 106 @thepatrickdaly : 95 December 12, 2018 Updated at 8.50pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.23pm GMT 20:23 Theresa May has arrived back in Downing Street. She is not going to be in committee room 14 to hear the result in person. Theresa May arrives back in Downing Street, following a confidence vote on her leadership. Photograph: Christopher Furlong/Getty Images Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.21pm GMT 20:21 Peter Walker Jacob Rees-Mogg , the Tory Brexiter, said Theresa May had notably “hedged her bets” on whether she might stay on long enough if not ousted to fight the next election. Speaking after the 1922 Committee meeting earlier, he said: She said that in her heart she would like to fight the 2022 election, but that she recognised the party did not want her to, and therefore it was not her intention to. But the word ‘intention’ is a classic politician’s words, because intentions can change. She didn’t say, ‘I will not be the leader in 2022,’ she said it was not her intention. She was asked, if there was an election within the next year, would you stand down, and she mumbled. Rees-Mogg sought to play down the impact of a narrow May victory. If you look at the payroll – ministers, PPSs, trade envoys, deputy chairmen of the party – she needs to carry more than half of the genuine backbenchers. If she doesn’t, that shows that the only people really supporting her are people who receive the Queen’s shilling. Updated at 8.29pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.17pm GMT 20:17 Ross Hawkins (@rosschawkins) Told 100% turnout in no con vote December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.10pm GMT 20:10 Laura Kuenssberg (@bbclaurak) One minister ‘I’d like to punch the ERG in the face – this is our moment to show that they are NOT the Tory party’ – their challenge to PM seems to have failed, but they still certainly have numbers to carry on blocking her in Parliament December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 1 of 16 Newest Newer Older Oldest Topics Theresa May Politics live with Andrew Sparrow Brexit European Union Conservatives PMQs Europe House of Commons

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[againjack]

Racing

Last week was odd, and it bled into the weekend. Colby was stressed between work, HOA, baseball, and family stuff that his taking the lead to plan the group outing to Georgia Steeplechase was a bit much for him. We also learned that he is more an ask culture, whereas I am guess culture, which caused more friction as he wanted me to ask things (to a group email where I didn’t know half the people on it) and I was uncomfortable doing so. This turned into my educating him about social anxiety and reminding him why using the phone is something I really don’t enjoy. This then seemed to be when he decided to stop calling me. :( 

Friday afternoon he popped me up on Gchat to ask if I was still picking him up from work around X time. To which I said we had never discussed that, reiterating that I had agreed to (go out of my way to) walk his dog before meeting him at #1′s home for a final night Seder. He was a bit pissy, when I asked if he wanted me to pick him up, he gave a passive-aggressive “You do you.” *exasperated sigh* The sad thing is he realizes he has these conversations or plans to have conversations in his head and that they don’t always actually happen. I’ve noticed it happens more often when he is stressed. I got fairly pissy about all of it - I was already going out of my way to help him out (and got no thanks for it)  - and he expected me to do more, including to read his mind about that more. I was really upset, working myself up to tears, and feeling very under appreciated.

The seder was different, interesting, and ended up ok. It did last a while, so I didn’t say to help clean up like I normally do, or wait for when Colby was ready. Instead, I gave my thanks to #1 and SIL, and left around 10:30pm. I was nearly asleep when he got home, to the point I didn’t have the energy to even say anything or roll over when he got back, and he thought I was completely out. 

The next morning we had to be ready, as everyone was converging on Colby’s for the caravan to Steeplechase. I wasn’t exactly a happy camper to have to get up so early (as folks were supposed to arrive around 8:30am - moreso because they started arriving closer to 8am.) I didn’t get to eat breakfast or have any private time, I was lucky to get enough time to shower and be ready. 

It was cold Saturday. And I’m the idiot that had expected it to be in the high 60s, not mid40s. Needless to say, it was exactly as Colby explained it to me, only way colder. On one hand, I didn’t burn as I expected to. On the other, I was bored and frustrated as I had expected to. It was literally just tailgating - sitting in a field for hours eating snack food, drinking heavily, and the occasional horse race that you really couldn’t see from where we were. Sure Colby was there, and some folk he works with that I met at the holiday party, and some of our game night crew. But other than being frozen (hands literally turning purple) no matter wearing Colby’s fleece and being wrapped in a blanket, I was bored and frustrated. I am not a big drinker, and being cold didn’t want to drink because that could cause issues. They were being stupid with the drinking and no one was really talking. There was nothing to do, and I had a gazillion other things I could have been doing. And because of where we were parked, and how the tents were setup, I had to wait to leave until the very end.

The thing is, Colby knew in advance that tailgating and heavy drinking aren’t things I enjoy doing or being around. He knew I went to try it out but that I was extremely wary. I told him on the drive back that I won’t be doing that again. He was disappointed, but I couldn’t care less. There is no saying I have to enjoy or do everything he enjoys/does. It isn’t like something to be supportive of, like a family event or holiday. He can f’n deal that I don’t like it and won’t go. I’m not going to stop him from going. 

When we got back I took a long, hot shower to thaw out. Because I was so cold most of the day, I barely ate anything either. Of course, that was also due to the fact I wanted to limit consumption so I didn’t need to use the port-o-potties for the 7 hours we would be there (and 90 minute drive each way.) We watched tv while he unpacked stuff, and he was surprised that as hungry as I was, I didn’t eat much. He didn’t get that after basically a day of fasting I couldn’t gorge but needed to ease back into eating at normal levels. I asked him if he could at Break the Fast after Yom Kippur, he said he had no issues with that. *le sigh*

He ended up falling asleep on the couch, for three hours. It was odd, at first I tried to stay out of his way, but eventually, we ended up with legs tangled and cuddling. He woke up for about an hour or so, by then it was nearly 11pm so I went to bed. When I woke at 5:30am and couldn’t sleep, I found he never came to bed. This had me in a spiral of bad thoughts. I ended up getting myself together and out the door to the board meeting without waking him. I texted him (once at shul) about how his not coming to bed worried and upset me. 

After the board meeting, Colby texted me. He had been sporadically texting and planning to do lunch with a friend. Up until he texted I had no idea that lunch included me. He again made it sound like it was a given I was included. Dude, you can do things with your friends without me, it’s ok! I’m not going to assume that we do all the things together all the time. And he better not assume the same when it comes to me and my friends. :P

I met them at a restaurant up the street from Colby’s and we had a lovely brunch. The friend was one of the folk from the group birthday dinner when I first met some of his friends, the day I had the car accident. It took me a while to place him. It’s slightly frustrating that Colby expects me to keep the gigantic cast of people in his life straight, after meeting someone once, 9-10 months ago and have heard nothing about since.

After brunch, it was 3pm when we got back to Colby’s. He had more unpacking and cleaning to do after Steeplechase, I ended up taking a nap - until 8pm. I didn’t realize I needed it so bad, though not entirely surprising since I had slept like crap the past two nights and spent most of Saturday shivering. :P 

Colby ended up ordering a calzone for us to split and while we ate we chatted. His friend had reinforced to Colby my timeline about getting the best deal for my house, which in turn, made him be more on board. We talked about timing, what to keep, etc. He still is leaving it up to me, though we ended up with me in tears because it felt like he wanted me to get rid of everything that was mine. He didn’t understand how some of the things I had were things I had waited years for to find or saved months for to afford. He even mentioned getting rid of my tvs. He tried to frame it as we would get all new (and matching) stuff when we got the new house. But he didn’t get that we might not be able to afford that immediately. 

We also had a not so interesting turn talking about how after his ex moved out he never reused that portion of the dresser, and he just expected me to use it. I made a comment about how I was just filling the spaces she left rather than him making space for me. Basically, insert tab B into slot A. He turned that around into how he was filing Franklin’s space, which wasn’t fair or realistic since I had a whole different space and made it mine after Franklin, Jamaica, and Bear. I had no space, I made space for Colby in my life. I made changes to my home for him, if minor since he is never here. He isn’t making changes for me, just letting me take the space his last girlfriend took from him. 

While we were eating (as most of the moving discussion was after eating while he was doing his taxes and other computer stuff.) he mentioned something about sex, which I used as a segue to remind him that his not having sex with me had become an issue. A big one. And how it’s been over a month since I said that and I haven’t seen any changes. I told him how I had found, in a random way, that his ex was pregnant and how much that saddened and hurt me. He didn’t get why. His gut reaction when I mentioned this was “Ha, sucks to be her husband when she is off her meds.” Once I explained that my reactions were, “Well at least someone is getting sex” followed by “she is the reason he won’t touch me” he got it. 

I went to bed around 1am while he was still finishing his taxes. I don’t know when he finished up, but I heard him shaving off his beard (as is his tradition) before he came to bed. He cuddled up my side of the bed, but when I tried to cuddle with him he would turn over or back away. *head shake* 

This morning I feel like he was trying to butter me up. He made a point to say how good I looked Saturday. As we left for work, he said, “You really are amazing, you know that?” “Thanks.” He followed it up with looking me in the eyes and saying, “I love you.” I’m just in such an emotional spot that I first responded with the horrible, “thanks,” then followed up with, “I love you, too.” 

On the drive home I wondered why. Well, not too much since I feel like he is struggling to say/show it. He is trying. So I acknowledge that with a thanks. Though it still feels like a dick move on my part. And, the tagged on “I love you too” felt hollow. I still don’t feel that he does love me. And I feel kinda numb and angry/frustrated about it all. I don’t mean it right now. 

I wondered, while driving, if this is that Westermark effect settling in. Is it just all my anger, hurt, and frustration? Or is it just that I’ve reached a point that I can’t trust that he’ll meet my needs, show compassion for me and what I’m doing/going through, or be there for me. It’s like I’ve finally reached a bottom (not sure if it is the bottom) and that bottom is a barren ground where no fucks can be grown. He took too damn long to tell me he loves me. He took too damn long to try to show me he cares. He still hasn’t shown me that he understands or wants to meet my needs. Not just sex, but just being held, or more kissing. 

I’m back to the imaging him proposing and my just laughing at him how he isn’t trying to meet my needs and shits over me and my stuff, how the fuck could I marry that?

[chefbstrikesagain]

Mid Year Break

The past couple of weeks have been a blast. No routine, accompanied by my closest friends, made for countless memories and little sleep. My holiday technically started on May 24 and lasted until June 11- felt like 3 months but was definitely a busy 2.5 weeks. The trip began on the morning of May 24 where Me, Martin, Joey, and the rest of the Sabah Gang headed to Kota Kinabalu to an early 4th of July party at the U.S. Embassy. We were extremely undressed for the event as we didn't want to pack super formal clothes. I sound ridiculous but dressing nicely would have meant backpacking around with dress shoes and a suit for the remainder of our travels. This resulted in sweaty me changing in a parking 20 minutes before the event into khakis in a button down. Sweaty and wrinkled I began shaking hands with people dressed in tuxes and needed a drink stat. Upon arrival, trusty old Janna had already scoped out the salmon sandwiches and wrangled down a waiter to get us all glasses of red wine from the open bar. After about 8 glasses, a passenger van arrived to take us to the airport for the start of our mid year programming. We landed in KL around 1am and it took another hour to get back to the beloved Dorsett Hotel. The Dorsett is where we spent our 2 weeks when we first got to Malaysia for orientation and holds a special place in everyone's hearts. Other than being extremely hungover everyday of programming, this was my favorite meet up yet. Fulbright let us do most of the talking and voice our specific problems. Mid year felt like a 'choose your own adventure book' which really helped people cope with specific problems they were having. After many icebreakers and a sleepless few nights I shared a grab car to the airport with Eleanor, Lissy, and Katie to make my 6am flight to Hanoi. Arriving in Hanoi meant that I was just 24 hours away from seeing my roommmates from COLLEGE. It has been so long since seeing them, or pretty much anyone from the U.S.. I spent the first day in Hanoi alone sightseeing. However, about an hour into my solo expedition I met a girl on a motorbike named Ming. Ming is from Hanoi, Vietnam and is a University student (or so she told me) in Pharmacology. Because it is her summer, she was looking for work taking around tourists on the back of her bike. She pulls up, offers me a helmet and an unbeatable price (10USD) for 3 hours of bopping around the city. She took me to local places to eat, explained the history of so many temples, and was a good pal to take selfies with. She dropped me back off at my hostel around 4pm and I spent the rest of the evening chit chatting and watching Netflix on the blazing fast wifi. The next morning I woke early, excited and anxious for Jackson, Rob, and Ang to arrive. I grabbed an uber moto to the airbnb which must have been a site. A 6'2 male with a 25 pound hiking backpack jumping on the back of this small Vietnamese man's motorbike. All in all I made it to the airbnb unscathed and had a few hours to kill. I was still pretty tired from all of our going out during mid year but a nap was not in the cards- I was just too excited. I laced up my running shoes and went for a short jog on the treadmill and then laid by the pool for a few hours. In what seemed like an eternity, I finally heard a knock at the door and APT. 6 was finally reunited. They looked, and smelled like hell but I was still so excited to see them. We chatted about the flight and the fact they were across the world for an hour before we decided to grab some local food and settle in for the night. Don't ask Rob about getting some of the local food. He was convinced we were all going to get Hep B the entire time. The next few days in Vietnam were a blur but included Vietnamese massages, local coffee, a trip to the famous Ha Long Bay, and loads of walking/sightseeing. We set off for Siem Reap on the 31st with our luggage in tow and arrived around 8pm. After Ang getting stuck in customs we found ourselves in 2 tuk tuks hauling down the road towards our villa. Tuk Tuks are such a fun way of transportation! We took them everywhere our entire stay in Cambodia mainly because of the price but also because they were everywhere. Our resort was beautiful and full of warm orange and yellow colors, fresh flowers, and statues of Buddha. We were welcomed with a cold cloth compress and fresh squeezed juice at reception. The owner asked us about where we came from and gave some suggestions (a full 4 day itinerary) on what we should do. We agreed that we wanted to do sunrise and before we knew it our alarms were blaring at 4:45am to go meet the tuk tuk driver. The first few hours of the morning were hazy. Our driver spoke almost no english and would just drop us off places and we would cross our fingers we would be able to find him later on. The sunrise was beautiful but a little disappointing to be honest. A lot of online blogs said it was a really spiritual experience, maybe if I had done it again it would have been better but between the photo shoots and the sweat dripping down my legs and forehead, all I wanted was the pool. We were 'templed out' by 2pm and finally made our way back to our villa where we enjoyed drinks and more food by the pool while we rested until going out that night. The night can be summed up in two words by my 3 pals 'puke city' and I'll leave it at that for their sake ;) It was an interesting time to be in Cambodia. They were undergoing elections and parades of people were campaigning in the street blasting music from cars and tuk tuks hoping their candidate would be chosen. Small business owners hoped for the opposition to take power as they promised more distribtion of wealth, while the reigning party kept their pockets lined. According to Uncle Google, Cambodia's government is extremely corrupt.. However, because of these elections, many bars and activities were closed due to people leaving to return to their villages to vote. There was also a city wide alcohol ban on the bars one night which led to us turning in early and catching up on some well deserved sleep. The next day was busy but involved ATVing through the countryside and rice paddies. Jackson found the tour and for 30 USD we spent hours driving through giant puddles and essentially causing havoc. Rob's chain fell off about halfway through his ATV which was unfixable out in the fields so he had to ride on the back of mine until a new ATV could be dropped off about 15 minutes down the path. ATVing might have been the highlight of my time in Cambodia- such an adrenaline rush. Later that night we were able to meet up with some of my Fulbright friends at a restaurant in Cambodia where fortunately, Claire snuck in a bottle of whiskey in her bag big enough for all of us. We spent hours polishing off the bottle between the 8 of us and made our way down the street to some of the clubs. Cambodia was where we spent most of our time but seemed like a blur, before we knew it we were up early (once again) and at the airport where our heavy bags caused some major problems. At the check-in counter Ang and I both got flagged because our bags looked overweight. I was able to talk the guy down from $40 to only a $10 charge by explaining I was a teacher in Malaysia and i've never had a problem traveling with my bag before. Ang, on the other hand, ended up getting a little confrontational with the guy who wouldn't budge. The ole American way of dealing with confrontations seemed to make bad worse. I don't think the AirAsia employee appreciated Ang taking photos of the man and threatening to call his manager. Honestly thought he was going to be kicked out of the airport- but our bags were checked and against all odds we made it through security. This was a low point of the trip for sure. We were all still feeling the night before and tried to remedy our hangovers with some coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Ang got a burger which I think ended up working out well in his favor. An hour later we boarded the most turbulent flight of my life. Jackson, Rob, and I respectively filled row 22 on our AirAsia flight to Phuket. Andrew, was moved up towards the front of the plane by himself which he smugly smiled back at us thinking he was first class- smh. About 45 minutes into the flight the seat belt sign turned on and the plane became turbulent. Before I knew what was happening it felt like we were dropping out of the sky. Jackson, Rob, and I were fighting back vomit as our greasy breakfast sandwiches and hangovers mixed violently in our stomachs. This turbulence was intermittent and just when you though it was over we felt our stomachs move up to our throats as the plane dropped 100 feet. We finally landed safely on the ground but when we got outside the airport we understood how bad the conditions were. As we were waiting for a taxi 4 Thai men and woman were holding a taxi stand down to prevent it from being taken by the monsoon that was only gathering strength. We arrived at our Hostel, Lub D, and made our way up to our room and we all posted up in our beds for a good amount of time still trying to recover from the flight. We grabbed food as the rain finally subsided at a small restaurant just a few blocks away where I enjoyed my first authentic pad thai! With our spirits lifted we made our way back to the hostel and formed a game plan for our short time in Phuket. Over the 3 days 2 night we were there we were able to go to a tiger sanctuary, have a beach day, explore the nightlife, and go to an all day event at an Elephant sanctuary. These were all unique and incredible experiences within themselves and I'll elaborate later but definitely some of my favourite parts of the trip. After what seemed like a week, but was only 2 nights, we made our way back to yes you guessed it, another airport, where we boarded our quick flight to Bangkok. Somehow Angus made it on the flight with 2 bags to our surprise! We checked into our hostel around 12:30am and had a solid sleep until we woke up to explore Bangkok. Claire and Kelsey, two other ETA's, were staying at the same hostel as us so we spent the morning at a coffee shop getting to know each other, and then set off into the city. We were able to see the Royal palace, the Emerald Buddha, the reclining Buddha, a canal tour, and even go out that night. It was such a busy day but the night seemed to last forever. After downing buckets of red bull and rum while listening to an incredible live band, we left for the 2nd best bar, according to trip adviser in Bangkok. Set 64 floors up, SkyBar Bangkok, was insane. Insane because of the views but also because of the 690 Baht drinks, which we seemed to have no problem spending.... Ang ordered a cuban cigar and we were actually living the high life. Our last day was sad and was mostly spent talking about our trip, prepping for their flight home, and we also got measured in case we ever wanted to order custom suits from a tailor in the city. We spent our last few hours in the bean bag lounge in our hostel awaiting the inevitable. After a long 2 weeks it was finally time to say goodbye. With the song yellow by coldplay in the background and the rain pounding the windows we hugged goodbye as the Uber arrived. It was a bittersweet moment but makes me really appreciate how good I have it in terms of friends. These guys flew across the world not only once but twice, to come visit and get a taste of what life was like for me. By the end of the trip I had a feeling that they were ready to go as the sleep deprivation and 2 week bender had finally started to set in for everyone. With runny noses and giant backpacks they set off for the final leg of the trip- the ride home. Having these 3 visit was a huge mental relief for me. Being gone from home for 5 really begins to take a toll on you and don't realize how caught up in life you get while over here. They reminded me of what is important and that I need to finish strong as life is pretty much the same back home - despite my fomo.

[reomanet]

Theresa May wins confidence vote after 200 MPs back her leadership – Politics live | Politics | The Guardian

Theresa May wins confidence vote after 200 MPs back her leadership – Politics live | Politics | The Guardian

Conservatives MPs cast their ballots after the PM spoke at an emotional party meeting. Skip to main content The Guardian – Back to home Support The Guardian Contribute Subscribe Contribute Search jobs Sign in My account Comments & replies Public profile Account details Emails & marketing Membership Contributions Digital Pack Sign out Search switch to the International edition switch to the UK edition switch to the US edition switch to the Australia edition current edition: International edition News Opinion Sport Culture Lifestyle Show More News World news UK news Science Cities Global development Football Tech Business Environment Obituaries Opinion The Guardian view Columnists Cartoons Opinion videos Letters Sport Football Rugby union Cricket Tennis Cycling F1 Golf US sports Culture Books Music TV & radio Art & design Film Games Classical Stage Lifestyle Fashion Food Recipes Love & sex Health & fitness Home & garden Women Family Travel Money What term do you want to search? Search with google Make a contribution Subscribe International edition switch to the UK edition switch to the US edition switch to the Australia edition Search jobs Dating Holidays Digital Archive The Guardian app Video Podcasts Pictures Newsletters Today’s paper Inside the Guardian The Observer Guardian Weekly Crosswords Facebook Twitter Search jobs Dating Holidays Digital Archive World Europe US Americas Asia Australia Middle East Africa Inequality Cities Global development More Politics live with Andrew Sparrow Theresa May Theresa May wins confidence vote after 200 MPs back her leadership – Politics live Conservative MPs cast their ballots after the PM spoke at an emotional party meeting May signals she will step down before 2022 election Majority of Tory MPs publicly back May Tories reinstate MPs suspended over sex claims for May vote What happened in previous Tory leadership challenges? LIVE Updated Play Video 0:00 Sir Graham Brady announces no-confidence vote result – watch live Andrew Sparrow (now) and Matthew Weaver (earlier) Wed 12 Dec 2018 21.04 GMT First published on Wed 12 Dec 2018 08.01 GMT Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share via Email Key events Show 9.00pm GMT 21:00 Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party 9.01pm GMT 21:01 May wins confidence ballot by 200 votes to 117 8.03pm GMT 20:03 Counting starts 7.44pm GMT 19:44 DUP demands ‘fundamental legal text changes’ to Brexit withdrawal agreement 7.39pm GMT 19:39 How to decide what amounts to good result for May 6.23pm GMT 18:23 May rules out leading Tories into 2022 general election 5.57pm GMT 17:57 Tory MPs start voting in confidence ballot on May’s leadership Live feed Show 9.01pm GMT 21:01 May wins confidence ballot by 200 votes to 117 Sir Graham Brady is here. He is standing at end with the podium, surrounded by other members of the 1922 Committee. He announces the result. The result of the ballot this evening is that the parliamentary party does have confidence in .. And at that point we could not hear the rest, because of the cheering. Here are the results. For May: 200 Against May: 117 Updated at 9.02pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 9.00pm GMT 21:00 Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party Theresa May has won a confidence vote in her leadership of the Tory party by 200 to 117. A majority of Conservative MPs backed her in a secret ballot after the prime minister signalled she would step down before the 2022 election. Updated at 9.04pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.56pm GMT 20:56 Ross Hawkins (@rosschawkins) Chief whip in room. Smiling December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.55pm GMT 20:55 The Telegraph’s Steven Swinford says May’s critics are not giving up. Steven Swinford (@Steven_Swinford) So what next for the Tory rebels, assuming that they lose tonight? Eurosceptics already thinking about the ‘nuclear option’ – a non-binding motion of no confidence against their own PM, removing her with backing of Labour, SNP & Lib Dems. They’re not giving up… December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.51pm GMT 20:51 … Unlike Mark Francois , a leading figure in the European Research Group, who is also here and looking a bit glum. Updated at 8.51pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.48pm GMT 20:48 We might get a better picture soon. The Foreign Office minister Alan Duncan has just stood on a desk to taking a photograph of the waiting journalists. He is in a very jovial mood. Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.47pm GMT 20:47 From the FT’s Jim Pickard Jim Pickard (@PickardJE) not allowed to take a photo but if you’re wondering this is what committee room 14 looks like….over 100 journalists at one end, a gaggle of Tory MPs chatting at the other…we will find out May’s fate in 15 minutes pic.twitter.com/KJstqOPpVu December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.45pm GMT 20:45 From my colleague Dan Sabbagh Dan Sabbagh (@dansabbagh) Seema Kennedy, May’s PPS, is here in the result room, smiling looking relaxed. If she knows the result, via the PM, then May has won decently. If… December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.41pm GMT 20:41 It looks as if Theresa May will deliver a statement too. Ross Kempsell (@rosskempsell) Mic out in Downing St for PM statement… December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.40pm GMT 20:40 We have now been admitted into committee room 14. It is the largest committee room in the building, and it is laid out like a mini debating chamber. On one side, there are deep windows overlooking the Thames and there are rows of benches, three rows on each side, facing each other. There is a raised bit at one end for the committee chair, and five rows of seats at the other end for the press and public. There are about 60 more reporters here, and they have parked us mostly in the seats at the “public gallery” end. A handful of Conservative MP are at the other end, where a single camera has been set up to film Sir Graham Brady announce the result. Updated at 8.50pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.32pm GMT 20:32 Two workmen have just walked past, in overalls and carrying what looked like paint. What is not often appreciated outside this building is how it has become a permanent building site. It’s falling to pieces (literally). Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.29pm GMT 20:29 The Irish PM, Leo Varadkar, and the European commission president, Jean-Claude Juncker, have insisted that the withdrawal agreement “cannot be reopened or contradicted”. As the Press Association reports, the pair spoke by telephone on Wednesday evening and an Irish government spokesman said “both agreed that the withdrawal agreement is a balanced compromise and the best outcome available”. He went on: While they agreed to work to provide reassurance to the UK, the agreement cannot be reopened or contradicted. Updated at 8.42pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.26pm GMT 20:26 In the absence of facts, you get … speculation. Here are some of the result estimates doing the round. From Jonathan Isaby , editor of BrexitCentral Jonathan Isaby (@isaby) Tory MPs are not for nothing known as the most duplicitous electorate in Christendom. But for what it’s worth, when voting closes at 8pm my guesstimate is that Theresa May will have secured the support of around 170-195 colleagues, with 122-147 against her. December 12, 2018 From assorted lobby journalists Tom McTague (@TomMcTague) Lobby room 12 sweepstakes. Votes against the PM: @CharlieCooper8 : 88 @IanDunt : 105 @AdamBienkov : 101 @TomMcTague : 73 @NewsAnnabelle : 106 @thepatrickdaly : 95 December 12, 2018 Updated at 8.50pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.23pm GMT 20:23 Theresa May has arrived back in Downing Street. She is not going to be in committee room 14 to hear the result in person. Theresa May arrives back in Downing Street, following a confidence vote on her leadership. Photograph: Christopher Furlong/Getty Images Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.21pm GMT 20:21 Peter Walker Jacob Rees-Mogg , the Tory Brexiter, said Theresa May had notably “hedged her bets” on whether she might stay on long enough if not ousted to fight the next election. Speaking after the 1922 Committee meeting earlier, he said: She said that in her heart she would like to fight the 2022 election, but that she recognised the party did not want her to, and therefore it was not her intention to. But the word ‘intention’ is a classic politician’s words, because intentions can change. She didn’t say, ‘I will not be the leader in 2022,’ she said it was not her intention. She was asked, if there was an election within the next year, would you stand down, and she mumbled. Rees-Mogg sought to play down the impact of a narrow May victory. If you look at the payroll – ministers, PPSs, trade envoys, deputy chairmen of the party – she needs to carry more than half of the genuine backbenchers. If she doesn’t, that shows that the only people really supporting her are people who receive the Queen’s shilling. Updated at 8.29pm GMT Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.17pm GMT 20:17 Ross Hawkins (@rosschawkins) Told 100% turnout in no con vote December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 8.10pm GMT 20:10 Laura Kuenssberg (@bbclaurak) One minister ‘I’d like to punch the ERG in the face – this is our moment to show that they are NOT the Tory party’ – their challenge to PM seems to have failed, but they still certainly have numbers to carry on blocking her in Parliament December 12, 2018 Facebook Twitter Google plus 1 of 16 Newest Newer Older Oldest Topics Theresa May Politics live with Andrew Sparrow Brexit European Union Conservatives PMQs Europe House of Commons

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