#wrongfoot

[puppppppppy]

AND I MET THE CHANGE GOD TOO. OKAY. COOL OKAY

[a-sea-with-no-shores]

the Love Between Fairy and Devil 苍兰诀 watching experience so far:

I'm a sucker for Chilly Immortal Type Is Constantly Wrongfooted By Kindness for reasons that we are not going to get in here

I don't mind Esther Yu's baby voice (please, I've watched too much anime to not be immune to it) and I think she's doing a fine job with this character so far

As a shallow bisexual I naturally appreciate dramas where I can enjoy the scenery of both+ leads' appearances; unfortunately for me Esther Yu is very not my aesthetic type

Fortunately for me I have such a crush on Dongfang Qingcang's wardrobe that I'm completely satisfied in this regard anyway lmao

The velvet outfit is a favorite so far but I wonder if DFQC has considered starting an elegant upscale loungerwear line

this man LOVES a floaty peignoir

[attachablepenis]

is there someone out there thats super emotionally intelligent than can take my long winded pretentious metaphors and convert them into 'sad' and 'hurt' and 'hungry'?

bc if so i think we could have a great symbotic relationship. my contribution would be crayon drawings and cat pictures and also i love you

[grison-in-space]

speaking as an instructor, student aziraphale is unspeakably worse: all you have to do with a baby Crowley is dangle a new loop of complexity in front of him that's moving in the direction you're trying to herd the class, and he'll usually not only leap at it but drag some hapless fraction of the class with him. Baby Crowleys are easy. They engage with you, they ask questions, and they usually lunge at any interesting setup like a particularly enthusiastic baby reticulated python spotting a nice warmed-up rat dangling on the feeding tongs. All you have to do is make sure the bait is where you want it.

by contrast a baby Aziraphale that is willing to talk in class--they're usually not without an external prod--will get the bit between his teeth, balk the entire class, and transfer his suspicion and confusion to everyone around him. If you're particularly unlucky and not rock-solid in your confidence on what you're teaching, this can include you, the instructor--and once everyone is uncertain of the groundwork you're trying to build concepts on, it's a pain in the ass trying to move anyone forward until you can unstick the Aziraphale. Sometimes they realize they've out-thought themselves and clarify the problem and we can all move forward, but otherwise it's usually going to be a function of figuring out where they're stuck and rasping over the snag until they pop free and can start following again.

Managing an Aziraphale confident enough to speak up and stubborn enough to keep going through his crisis of understanding is hell, especially if you're not actually all that confident on the material. The problem is that they won't move. It's like trying to talk a donkey down a spiral staircase: that donkey's not going to take a single step until it's sure that it's safe to do so, and the more you push the less safe it feels...

(Spoilers under cut for S2.)

The Metatron certainly thinks he's being very clever by recruiting Aziraphale to "reform" Heaven's ranks as top archangel, thereby recruiting whatever powers he has to Heaven's "team" while also providing plenty of room for the Metatron to bog him down with bureaucracy and difficulties. After all, he can hardly cause so much trouble if you gum him up with wrangling the Heavenly Host, right? Lots of things to do! He'll never catch up! The remaining archangels can furiously thwart him at every turn, and he'll never make any progress that way!

It's not like he can mess up the whole system just by balking and asking questions, can he? The Metatron knows more than any mere Principality, after all: the Metatron is the Voice, metaphorically the Teacher that conveys God's Miraculous Knowledge. At least, the effable parts of it. Right? This is a trap for Aziraphale, right?

Right?

It's also interesting thinking about who precisely is Metatron's counterpart: is it Beelzebub, as in the book, at which point Metatron is currently technically operating unopposed? (Beelzebub having, of course, conveniently fucked off with Gabriel.) Or is the Metatron's equal Satan himself, with God Ineffably never saying anything while her Voice and Adversary theoretically duke it out over the bones of Earth?

crowley and aziraphale are both the worst guy in your intro to philosophy class but for different reasons

[kamil-a]

Wrong the answer is three cause an old friend of my that I only knew from a dream I had when I was three told me

/j

oh. i knew that /L (/lying)

[annabelle--cane]

brett walks in and immediately wrongfoots gwen by being american and kind of hot. she has completely forgotten why he's there so is at a total deficit of information. he says "it must be hard filling lena's shoes :) ." he flatters her ego a little before undermining her assessment of the OIAR's security and implying that she's unsafe in her workplace. he makes a dig about lena's use of the externals and tries to use that to distract from the fact that his organization is often the party escalating situations. then he leaves her his card for "when" she reconsiders, not if, and makes a final clumsy attempt to compare gwen unfavorably to lena by saying she has an underwhelming presence. what a man.

[hyperfixedbrainrot]

Early in the summer, billy introduces heather to Steve as his best friend, and Steve is not buying it. He hasn’t known either of them long enough to realise they’re both queer, and he’s thinking ‘no way are two hot people working together half naked and being platonic about it”

He raises an eyebrow, “your best friend is a girl?” And for one strange moment Billy is in reach of a moral high ground so he dives for it with glee like “uh you think men and women can’t just be friends?” With a heavily implied “you’re a sexist” undertone and Steve is wrongfooted and says ohh um no they can… ig. And billy sticks his nose up in the air like

Billy: then name one woman you’re friends with

And Steve hasn’t known robin that long yet since this is before Everything so he says: uhhh….nancy

Billy: your ex?? you don’t even have any real woman friends? That’s sooooo weird that’s kinda misogynistic honestly you’re weird for that

And he flounces off and Steve is like NO YOURE NOT A BETTER PERSON THAN ME! I DONT HAVE MALE FRIENDS EITHER

[thegingerwrites]

slowly, sweetly, then suddenly

by thegingerwrites

Chapter 5 (now complete!)

“You said you could still think like him,” Anakin says, relishing in the brief look of surprise on Obi-Wan’s face, knowing that at least for now, he has him wrongfooted.

“I did.”

“What would he want if he had me like this?”

He runs a hand through Obi-Wan’s hair, long on top and short in the back, and he lets his nails dig in just enough to make Obi-Wan shiver. The hand directs Obi-Wan’s attention squarely on Anakin, even as Obi-Wan finds himself distracted.

“His feelings would be much the same as yours, from what I understand.” Obi-Wan looks Anakin up and down. He holds himself up on one arm, allowing the other hand to caress Anakin’s chest, then his flank. The gesture isn’t an absent thing, more an act of reverence. “He wanted you completely. Forget the dark side—he would have worshipped at your altar, made you the center of his new religion.”

Anakin lets go of a shuddering breath, doing everything to keep from trembling beneath Obi-Wan. But how is he supposed to react after hearing that? And how does he make Obi-Wan say it again but from his perspective instead?

A beat of silence stretches on awkwardly. A thin sliver of clarity enters Obi-Wan’s eyes and for the first time since they’ve entered this room, he looks unsure. He blinks and looks away from Anakin for a moment before he clears his throat and says, “Excuse me while I go fall on my lightsaber.”

“No, no, no.” Before he even thinks of going anywhere, Anakin pulls him down to meet him and bites at his earlobe. He wraps his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, tangles their legs together, and holds on tight. “You need to stay here and tell me more.”

Obi-Wan still looks a little uncertain but a smile slowly dawns on his lips. “If you insist…”

[rimbaudsleg]

Wrongfooted

[writing-oof]

Drabble from Scrapped Version of Rabbit Shop Romance*

[*Rabbit Shop Romance is a SciFi, Humans Are Space Orcs-coded Linked Universe AU of mine I'm working on atm]

"What's your name?" Ravio asks.

It's a bold move, and it breaks the quick and silent transactional script for their usual interactions. It's clear the traveler isn't thrilled with the change of pace, their body language suggesting off-unease-wrongfooted.

It's taken a while for him to be able to read even that much from them, but he's always interested in learning more about his regulars. Especially one as interesting as the traveler.

Ravio can feel his smile strain almost imperceptibly under the weight of the silence. He ducks his head to sort through the traveler's change, busying his hands with the chips and bricks. His fingers struggle over the smaller pieces, the smooth plastic sliding off the fur of his fingers. In a practiced move, he hooks the edge of his claws under the pieces and adds them to the pile of change.

"...Legend."

Ravio turns up from the till, his ears perking in surprise. In truth, he'd been prepared for the silence to continue the way it always does. The traveler's voice is cracked and ragged, the syllables tilted and warped like they come from a mouth ill-suited to Common.

"Legend, huh?" the shopkeeper says, letting the name roll off his teeth with a friendly lilt. "It suits you."

Legend only scoffs, and Ravio bites on a wince. He was just trying to be nice, but in all honesty it doesn't suit him at all, and it's clear the traveler knows that.

Legend doesn't seem the type to choose a name bragging about adventure or battles. He hardly seems the type to choose his name at all. His parents probably named him, or whatever his species equivalent to parents is.

The silence stretches and Ravio curses himself. He never knows when to keep his mouth shut.

"What about you?"

The traveler's voice cuts through the silence like the jagged edge of a blade, metal teeth tearing at the tension between them.

"I--" Ravio sputters, "Come again?"

The traveler tilts their head, and Ravio can imagine the unimpressed face they're pulling beneath their mask and goggles. Presuming that they have a face, that is.

"What's your name?" the traveler asks flatly.

"Ravio."

"Ravio," the traveler repeats, like they're committing it to memory. For reasons he can't entirely explain, the thought sends a shuddering thrill down his spine.

Ravio swallows thickly and pressed Legend's change into their gloved hand. He spies what must be less than a centimeter of smooth, ivory skin peering out from the gap between their glove and the long-sleeved coat that drapes down past their knees.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Ravio," the traveler says, not a complaint about his prices in sight. Ravio feels very, very normal about hearing his name from the traveler's mouth. Or, species equivalent.

"You too," Ravio says, before sputtering a bit. "I mean--that's not--"

Legend snorts.

Ravio's ears perk up on their own accord. He smooths out the front of his shirt and lets the salesman role fit back on the way it's meant to as the traveler starts to leave. Their long coat is loose and not terribly fitted, but the way their pants clings to their calves leaves little to the imagination.

"Do come again, Legend," Ravio says, taking note of the way the traveler seems to stall, caught on hearing their own name--or, is it hearing their own name from him? Something to consider, maybe--before continuing to the door. "Stay safe out there."

"Worry about yourself," Legend says with a scoff. "Your security is shit."

Ravio pauses. His security is due for an upgrade, but--

"Why were you looking at my security?" he asks, curious and the slightest bit defensive.

Legend turns their head over their shoulder to look at him. "I'm the human SHADOW's looking for and I'm here to rob you," he says flatly.

Ravio snorts. "Alright, alright," he says, "Keep your secrets then."

"I will," Legend says, and despite the weather barrier, Ravio swears he leaves with a gust of wind. ---

[pensbitchbiome]

// the pitt spoilers

setting up robbys backstory with the bit about heather giving up on him and jake being his stepson 🥲 he cares so much but cuz he's a workaholic and some unresolved trauma there's limits to how much he can devote himself to the people in his life

i really liked seeing how having close relationships with a functioning addict can make people almost turn a blind eye to them especially in this case of langdon stealing from the hospital. even though robby reassured santos and was right about her having a strong moral compass to report him, she's still feeling wrongfooted and felt the need to apologise and the one potential mentor-like figure she has in dr. garcia she feels like she's lost. the way the other interns are somewhat pairing off with seniors that too on their first day (whitaker-mohan, javadi-mckay, mel-langdon), and like santos herself said she doesn't know anyone there and she's got some feelings about that too

langdon repeatedly calling the hospital line, dana and robby 😭 mel looking for langdon to talk about her case and looking so upset he 'left without saying goodbye' i cant do this

and as predicted theres the mass casualty storyline oh my fucking god just watching the trailer made tense up its going to be a heavy episode and with the multiple mentions of being understaffed oof

[lassieposting]

Sauron, flopping down beside Galadriel: There you are! How is the fairest being in Eregion this evening?

Galadriel, fondly, lips twitching: I don't know, Halbrand. How are you doing?

Sauron, wrongfooted and a little bit choked up: I'm fine.

[generalluxun]

Bee Sisters: Second Chapter(Rest)

This is me going back through an old fic of mine I foolishly migrated to AO# all at once long ago(so it was on the new page once, as opposed for each chapter) it represents my long-ago hopes for the interactions of the two sisters. If you're interested you can grab the rest of the fic on AO3 rather than wait for me to get around to posting another chapter here ^^ This Chapter takes place after an initial outreach where Zoé make a (terrible) birthday cake for Chloe- who had been trying to hide the fact it was her birthday, because she 'hates' them. Chapter below the cut.

Zoé heard her sister’s approach not so much by the sounds she made, but by the way the normal sounds of the hotel died at her approach.  The maids who had been studiously ignoring Zoé’s presence all found excuses to be out of the hallway, leaving a surprisingly blissful stillness behind.

“You make a lousy window dressing you know.”

Zoé raised her head from her knees.  She was curled up on the ledge, Paris continued it’s way below her, unaware of the exhausted teen watching it with unfocused eyes.  “Hi Chloé.” The barely whispered words did more than a shout to dent the smug superiority and self satisfaction on her sister’s face.

Chloé hesitated, wrongfooted briefly but rallied and plowed on, ”Mother wants you to know tickets to Le Miserables came in from an investor.  Since theaters are your… thing… you are expected to attend for the family to show gratitude.”

Zoé shifted slightly, one hand playing with the laces on her shoe, ”Okay Chloé.” she mumbled in response.

Another dent.  Zoé wasn’t even in the frame of mind to enjoy it.  A small war was waged across her sister’s face then with a shift of her hips and a crossing of her arms,”Okay, you’re being weirder than normal today.  What gives?”

Zoé managed the smallest of smiles at that,”I’m just tired.”

Chloé rolled her eyes,” Then go to your room and take a nap like all little girls. ”she waggled her finger at Zoé,”Stop taking up space in the hallway, you’ll offend the guests.”

Zoé let out a small laugh, which seemed to confuse her sister, ”Not that kind of tired; just out of energy, feeling… lonely?”

Chloé hmphed, "Isn't that why you've got your little band of tacky friends?" Chloé turned her back, "Go hang out with them, just don't bring them in here or we'll lose business."

"It's not like that." Zoé rushed the words out before her sister could leave.  Her efforts were rewarded with a pause and a slow look back over the shoulder.

Zoé continued, "Back in New York I only had one friend.  We hung out when we could, but it wasn't that often.". She uncurled and turned herself on the windowsill to face Chloé,"I love my friends here but it takes a lot of energy sometimes." Zoé raised her eyes to meet Chloé's, "Haven't you ever just felt alone in a crowd?  Everyone's paying attention to everyone, but nobody's paying attention to anyone.  Keeping up can be so exhausting." Zoé put her hands on the sill, lifting and shuffling herself a bit as she dropped her gaze again, ”Does that make sense?”

Zoé looked up again in the silence that followed.  Chloé’s back was still turned, deep blue eyes were focused on Zoé, calculations going on behind them.  With a flick, Chloé's phone was out.  She keyed it open and began walking away as she talked.

Zoé pulled her feet back up and dropped her head to her knees again.  She wrapped her arms around her legs this time and let out a long breath.  It had been worth a try.

“-en have him turn on the sirens, this is an EMERGENCY Sabrina.”  A firm grip wrapped around Zoé’s wrist and yanked her clear off the sill.  She stumbled a few steps, pulled along by her sister without a glance back.  A door opened down the hall and Chloé shoved Zoé sideways behind a decorative column against the wall, pinning her there with an elbow.

“What’re you mff?.” Chloé’s hand clamped over Zoé’s mouth, her older sister’s eyes followed some unknown person then she pulled Zoé back out, ushering her further down the hall.

Without warning Chloé stopped again beside an open door, ”Aha, perfect!” she yanked Zoé to her, then with unexpected strength lifted and tossed her into a laundry bin.  Zoé’s landing was cushioned by bath towels, and she was too surprised to even make noise.  She poked her head up, blinking in confusion as Chloé grabbed the side of the cart, ”Stay down!” she hissed, pushing on Zoé’s head then taking off, pushing the cart ahead of her.

Zoé stayed down as the cart kareened through the halls, onto an elevator, then back out again.  She could see her sister’s face over the edge of the cart, a surprisingly serious expression and focus present.

Down another hall, through some doors and, ”Okay, get out now.”  Chloé walked away from the cart.

Zoé emerged, still slightly rattled, and looked around her sister’s suite, ”What was that all about?” she asked her sister’s back.

Chloé crossed over to her bedroom, calling back, ”Well OBVIOUSLY you couldn’t be seen coming up here.”

Zoé straightened her beanie and jacket, that sounded like Chloé, so what was the rest of this?, ”But *why* am I here?`` She followed after her sister and was rewarded with a face full of plastic-wrapped clothing for her troubles.

“I don’t like being questioned.  Put that on.”  Chloé vanished back into her room.

Zoé examined the package she was holding.  A freshly laundered robe, folded and sealed by the hotel’s laundry, ”But this is-”

“YOU CAN ALWAYS LEAVE!” the shout echoed back at her from the other room.

Zoé looked back down at the robe.  She could leave, but she’d spent so long trying to get to just this spot.  Maybe she could tough it out a little bit longer.  She unwrapped the robe and changed.  It was the softest of white silks, with a fur lining.  The smooth fabric felt cool to the touch as she pulled it on, but warmed quickly against her skin.  The fur tickled a little when she moved, but added one more small layer of warmth; gratefully so since as Zoé pulled it on she realized it was remarkably… short.  A knock at the door interrupted her concern.  ”Chloé there’s someone here?”  There was only so much bravery Zoé had on hand at the moment.  She shuffled sideways to put the table and flowers between her and the door.

“Good good.”  Chloé stormed down the stairs from her room, ”Go out and wait on the balcony.”  she made a shooing motion and didn’t even look in Zoé’s direction.  She didn’t have to, Zoé beat a hasty retreat from whatever pair of eyes might be on the other side of the door.

The balcony was an immediate bubble of solitude.  The sounds of the city went on below, but up here she seemed untouchable.  Zoé’s thoughts strayed to the safe in the corner, then sadly to the incidents that followed that discovery.  She shook her head to chase away the melancholy.  Zoé strayed to the balustrade and peered down.  With a small laugh to herself she realized she owed Chloé one thing at least, she was too confused to feel lonely right now.

The afternoon sun warmed both the robe and her skin.   Zoé let the warmth sustain her until her reverie was broken by a thump at the balcony door followed by an unladylike curse closer and a frustrated gasp closer still.  Zoé turned to see Chloé with what must’ve been an armful of odds and ends, the largest of which was a basin of water that now occupied the foot of one of the deck chairs.

“Sabrina usually does this part.” Chloé fumed, then she turned to Zoé and stabbed a finger at the chair, ”Sit!”

Zoé walked over but paused to protest,”Chloé, you really need to explain what all this-”

“SIT!”

Zoé sat reflexively, blinking.

Chloé picked up a jar from the small assortment of odds and ends, ”Close your eyes and lay back.”

Zoé complied, it seemed safest at this point.

After another moment she felt Chloé’s fingers on her face, and the spread of something warm and wet across her skin, ”If your beautician ever applies a cold mask, fire them.  They’ve got body heat for a reason and someone who doesn’t know how to warm up a cream should have their license revoked anyway.”

“I’ve never had a beautician.” Zoé assumed it was safe to talk.

“That much is obvious.”  Chloé’s fingers moved across Zoé’s face from forehead down across her cheeks, nose, and following the curve of her jawline.  There was something oddly soothing about the competence and precision of her touch.  Zoé let out a long slow breath.

“Open your mouth.” Chloé instructed, even as she laid two cool disks… cucumbers?  Over Zoé’s eyes.

At this point Zoé’s compliance was a given.

“Lemon First.” Chloé popped a small chocolate into Zoé’s mouth and true to word the small confection had a crisp lemony tart in the center.  It washed away the chocolate flavor and left her mouth feeling light and astringent.

“Honey next.” a second chocolate, filled instead with a thin sweet honey liquor that coated the roof of her mouth.  As it dissolved Zoé felt Chloé hook first one foot then the other with a hand, depositing Zoé’s bare feet into the tub of warm steaming water in front of the chair.  A tingling in her skin told her it wasn’t just water.

“Mint last.” One more small mouthful, ”Suck on this one, do not chew.”

Zoé wiggled her toes in the water.  The chocolate was dark, but not harshly so, and the mint was infused rather than all in the center.  There were no more instructions.  Zoé didn’t know what to do with her hands.  She fidgeted slightly, adjusted the hem of the robe.  She began to anticipate some new onslaught.  Slowly she reached up, and lifted one of the cucumber slices to peek out.

Chloé sat in another of the deck chairs, magazine in hand and a small stack beside her, reading quietly.  She didn’t look up when Zoé peeked, didn’t seem even remotely connected to everything that had just transpired, she was just there.

Zoé laid back down.  She folded her hands across her stomach and let out another long breath.  The chocolate was dissolving slowly but surely, spreading a cooling sensation through her mouth and nose.  The tingling in the water had died down to a comforting warmth, and the sun continued to add its own warmth and soon the airy nature of the robe made sense.  The slightest breeze could blow over and through, taking just a little heat with it to keep the whole from being too much.  Paris rumbled below but the rumbling inside of Zoé died away.  She was separate, but she was not alone.

The light through the cucumber slices was different, the water was cooler, and none of her limbs wanted to respond right away.  These were the signs Zoé had fallen asleep.  Slowly slipping back into her own body she sat up, the slices falling away.

Her sister looked up from the magazine she was reading.  The stack beside her had shifted considerably.  Zoé tried to stifle a yawn but gave up and just let it take her.  She stretched expansively, arching and curving her back while the yawn held her and then collapsing back into a relaxed slouch, ”That was amazing.”  she lifted one foot out of the water and wiggled her toes in the air.

Chloé closed the magazine, ”Of course it was.  You can take the rest of the cream and bath salts.  Sabrina knows the name of the chocolatier.”  Chloé flicked the magazine.  Zoé could see the discomfort rising in her sister’s eyes already.

“Why don’t we hang out more often?” she asked before all the walls could be built back up.  She reached up to try and find the edge of the face mask to begin peeling.

She got the words out in time.  Chloé hesitated, caught between peace and reality, ”Your friends are tacky,” she decided on,”*You* are tacky.”

Zoé laughed, ”I clean up good, I swear.”  slowly she peeled the mask off.  It felt absolutely wonderful as it came away.

She had Chloé on the ropes.  Her older sister shifted uncomfortably in her chair, then seemed to reach some internal choice, ”Fine, next week.  There’s a ball being held by one of daddy’s donors.  It’s a *masquerade* ball.”

It was a start, ”We could coordinate colors, like paired harlequins.” Zoé grinned.  She reached up to touch her bangs, ”I’ll find a way to hide my hair, that would be too easy.”

Disdain warred with excitement in Chloé’s gaze.  Finally,”Then I suppose yellow and black are out of the question then as well.” she replied with an unused sort of smile that didn’t quite seem to know how to rest on her face.

Zoe smiled easily back,“We’ll figure something out.”

[hightowerqueen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

i think i have a few tags for this, the latest from @dellamortethelesser (❤️), so here's something I started yesterday that may never see the light of day but was because my friends wanted Assertive First Talon Lucanis.

It's an argument set after my Rookships Flash fic where Bea and Illario elope with Lucanis's approval. Fair warning: neither Viago or Lucanis are nice to each other in this, so I will not be putting it in the character tags.

He's tired because Viago's underestimation stings. The other man seemingly hasn't considered for even an instant that Lucanis might be involved; it feels like a knife slid through the gap between his ribs, as things start to come together.

He thinks of me as a puppet. They think of me as a puppet. The thought makes the edges of his vision go white with anger.

An even uglier feeling rears it head, and Spite crows with delight low in Lucanis's mind. The demon is quieter these days, but now he has something to sink his claws in and enjoy. It gnaws at Lucanis's resolve to stay calm, eventually biting it in half. (And if the image of Bea and Illario looking defeated in this same office is something he lingers on and not Spite, no one needs to know.)

"Do you truly believe I did not sign off on this?" It's biting in a way Lucanis rarely allows himself. Some of Caterina's tone bleeds into his, his voice level, leftover memories inhabiting his words. People so often forget the kindness in him is a choice, and right now he doesn't feel like choosing it.

Things with Viago have always been complicated. Not because of the infatuation Lucanis has long since buried, but because the man is so proud it threatens to kill them all at times. It used to leave Lucanis wrongfooted, how easily Viago is offended, all thorns and no rose. Today, he doesn't have it in him to care.

Viago doesn't flinch. "I don't see why you would sign off on it." He's furious, expression thunderous. "You knew there were discussions on the table. You cannot simply let them do whatever they want like unruly children."

"Discussions I was not a part of. This, I was. It's simple, is it not?"

Lucanis watches as Viago's jaw goes tight, teeth grinding so hard it's nearly audible in the room's silence. His next words are spoken in a tone full of ice. "She's my heir, my family. Those decisions belong to me. You overreach."

"It shouldn't bother you overmuch, as I am simply correcting your mistakes before they bring your House to ruin, Viago." Lucanis matches him, frigid. "I am doing you a favor, in truth. Do you not tire of trying to separate them? From what I've learned, you've been at it for years."

He still hasn't risen from behind the desk. It's intentional, this isn't worth bothering myself over written all over him. Illario isn't the only one who's learned to speak wordlessly.

"I made this decision for you as much as I did for them, you know." Lucanis continues, leaning back in his chair. "I will not sit idly as you accumulate power under my nose. I am no less Caterina Dellamorte's grandson than I was before. Consider it a warning." The venom dripping off the words is clear, and Spite is downright jubilant.

Their gazes lock, a battleground between them. But the truth is that Viago has already lost; there is little else he can say without overstepping. Lucanis has outplayed him.

Still, to cement the victory, he adds: "Her forgiveness is running out. Keep that in mind."

The door slams violently behind Viago.

[bookinit02]

dr brooke representing max’s false bravado and confidence which he is running towards and therefore running Away from avery and tristan, who he feels uncertain/wrongfooted with, who he keeps messing up with even when he thinks he’s doing the “right” thing, being the “good guy,” etc. i am onto something i think

[takeariskao3]

Let’s say hypothetically AG Ginny met TPFY Ginny (for simplicity lets say at the last chapter you’ve posted or you can pick a different timeframe) what advice would they have for each other when it came to their relationship with Harry? Do you think AG Ginny would wonder if she missed out on the single life? Do you think TPFY Ginny would regret not admitting her feelings to Harry sooner?

lolololol i imagined the two ginny's meeting up to go something like this:

but then i thought about it some more, made myself laugh, and so obviously i had to write it

Ginny lifted her teacup from its saucer, feeling every bit the fourteen year old she remembered herself to be.

The girl--no, scratch that--the woman sitting across from her, while looking identical, had her beating back a stampede of imagined deficiencies and insecurities. It was enough to give her a complex.

The Other Ginny looked positively effortless. Picture perfect. Her lace-up booted legs crossed lazily as she lounged back in her chair. Her long hair fell in waves around her shoulders. The dress wrapped around her waist accentuated each dip and curve. And the knee length dragon-hide leather jacket looked like it cost more Galleons than Ginny could even fathom.

As a result, her trainers and lopsided ponytail felt horribly inadequate.

"Have you tried having it out?" the Other Ginny asked with a quizzical tilt of her head.

Ginny remembered the row in the Burrow's kitchen and nodded. "I s'pose it helped. Forced his hand in a way, but truthfully... I'd rather not spend every minute of every day shouting until he pulls his head out of his arse."

The Other Ginny shrugged like she couldn't quite relate, then her gaze turned sharp.

"Have you tried fucking it out?"

Ginny choked on her tea, sputtering so much she had to hold a napkin to the lower half of her face to retain the illusion of dignity.

"No," she gasped once she could breath through her nose again. "Of course I haven't."

"Sorry," the Other Ginny grinned like she felt anything but regret. "Didn't mean to offend your sensibilities."

"It's not-- I can't just--" Ginny struggled hopelessly, attempting to backtrack on her complete lack of composure. "I'm not sure how effective that would be."

Propping her elbow on her chair-back, the Other Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock. Or awe. Or perhaps both. "Is that what you did?"

"Fought first," the Other Ginny clarified. "Then fucked."

Her breaths shallowing out, Ginny gaped in stunned admiration.

"Look," the Other Ginny leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. "You're almost twenty-two, right?" Once Ginny nodded, she continued on in the same remarkably matter-of-fact tone, "And you're married. All his nonsense will quite literally vanish if you just start acting like it."

"But he--" she started to argue, but the Other Ginny cut her off.

"He's probably convinced you're somehow better off without him."

Ginny froze in her chair as the last three months of hazy wrongfooted-ness were thrown into sharp clarity. As the epiphany crashed through her, the Other Ginny's gaze remained steady, if a little pitying.

No, not pitying. Sympathizing.

"You..." Ginny croaked, her throat going dry. "Are you speaking from experience?"

The Other Ginny's face fell, her first real show of desolation since they'd both shown up here. "I have my suspicions. But that's all they are. We haven't actually gotten there yet."

They both looked around the cafe, at the cream paneled wainscoting and the mint green wallpaper. At the vintage tile floors and the antiqued mirror ceiling. The room fogged at the corners, and the white swirl out the front windows sparkled in lieu of sunshine.

"How long have you been here?" Ginny asked quietly.

The Other Ginny sighed. "Off and on for... two years?"

Swearing under her breath, Ginny slumped down in her chair.

"It's not so bad," the Other Ginny lifted a shoulder. "Tea's good. I just wish we could be here together, you know?" A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. "I sort of miss him."

Ginny's mood grew ever darker. She couldn't help but imagine her Harry finding a way to avoid her even if they were stuck in this in-between place together.

A clatter from the far side of the room startled them both and they glanced around to see a third Ginny nearly knock over the makeshift hostess stand.

"Sorry I'm late!" she called over, tossing her hair over her shoulder and straightening her jumper. Which was inside out. "I got stuck... Er-- Well, I got stuck."

The Third Ginny hurried back to their table, plopping into a chair and grabbing an egg-and-cress sandwich from the tray.

The girl was clearly starved. That, paired with her greasy hair and heavy eyelids, had Ginny and the Other Ginny watching her in muted fascination.

After practically inhaling three sandwiches in a row, the third Ginny finally deigned to acknowledge the both of them.

"So, what have I missed?"

The other Ginny rolled her eyes. "It seems like we're the ones who've missed something."

The Third Ginny frowned. "How do you figure?"

"You stink," the Other Ginny clipped. "Like sex."

"Oh," the Third Ginny shrank back with an abashed smile. "That."

Ginny sat up straighter--settling in for the wildest conversation of her life.