ykw that was exactly the thing i was vaguing about earlier this morning btw (sorry). since saturday night the whole topic of [pausing here to transform into a hideous beast because of the word my phone was trying to suggest i put after ‘topic of.’ like could this get any more meta and/or disturbing] anyways the whole topic of.. me and how i am or am not situated like.. r*mantically. it’s been multiple times every day since saturday night that it’s come up in posts i see in irl convos in photo memory reminders in shows my family is watching etc. ajd im not like mad at anyone/thing for posting / talking about it it’s just i feel like exploding a little bit between me myself and i that’s all

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 1

Meet the Maidens

It is back to school baby, both for D20 and, funnily enough, myself as well (something I hope will give me more time to get the recaps out in a timely manner fingers crossed). 

As I’m sure you all know if you’re reading this, this season of D20 takes place in the world of Fantasy High but with a focus on Aguefort’s OTHER most badass adventuring party who we’ve so far only seen on the sidelines, the Seven Maidens! You’ll recall, they’re made up of the seven girls who were captured by Penelope and co. to fulfill the prophecy that would let Kalvaxus rule the world freshman year. And, in fact, we start with a flashback to freshman year so let’s just jump right in.

We find our seven soon-to-be heroines chained in the Red Waste in front of what we know and they will shortly learn in Kalvaxus’ lair--a crucial part of the prophecy that was the subject of season 1. The structure of this episode is sort of like 2 rounds of introductions--first here with the maidens meeting each other for the first time and then again at home with their families a la the first episode of Freshman Year so I’ll be glossing over certain things that we’ll get to later in their second intros.

Anyway, the first two to wake up are Danielle (aka Yelle: half-elf, druid) and Zelda (satyr, barbarian as we know). Zelda is her usual, adorably nervous self in contrast to Yelle who is no less sweet but in a super chill, granola girl, fuck the system kind of way. We actually learn that Penelope had her on board with the plan for a hot second when she thought it was just “overthrow the government” but didn’t know about the “install a just as bad if not worse evil dragon overlord” part. 

Ostentatia (dwarf, cleric) wakes up next and is, as Izzy--her player--describes her “Jersey Trash.”, all blinged up with jewelry that she secretly made herself and didn’t buy. She wakes up pissed and ready to bodyslam Aelwyn which are both extremely valid emotions as much as I love Aelwyn. By the way, all of the girls recognize each other as girls who go to their school but none of them are really friends though they very quickly start throwing the label around because that’s what you do when you wake up chained with 6 other people in front of a dragon’s lair in a place called the Red Waste. 

Katja (half-orc, fighter) wakes up and immediately cares about nothing more than the status of her beloved horse, Cinnamon and declares that if Cinnamon dies, she’ll die. This is a fantasy world so Ostentatia and Danielle are a little concerned that might literally be true via a soul bond or something but it’s more that Katja just really, really loves that horse. Danielle tries to cast a spell to locate the horse but can’t get the somatic components quite right with her hands manacled. 

They all get into a discussion about the fact that everyone for a fact knows they’re all virgins now (you know, the real issue here) and what exactly counts as “virginity” for the purposes of this prophecy (like, does second or third base count or only traditional home runs using the baseball analogy) when Penny wakes up and is, just so excited to be here gang! Penny (halfling, rogue), who is one of the girls who has been kidnapped the longest, is adorably and honestly a bit concerningly exuberant to be surrounded by all these new friends, totally disregarding  the fact that they are clearly in some deep shit. Zelda mentions that Riz, her old babysitee, knows they’re kidnapped and is trying to help and she lights up. 

Next up is Sam (water genasi, sorc/bard) who immediately starts thrashing to get out of her chains and, when she can’t get free, is devastated by the fact that her ex betrayed her (!?) Finally Antiope (human fighter/ranger) wakes up all out of sorts having started her growth spurt while in the crystal and also having needed to pee right before she went in which becomes a problem all over herself (which Sam helpfully cantrips away).

With all of them awake, the stones they’re chained to light up and some of Kalvaxus’ minions (the ones who tied them up) show up to do minion speechifying. Yelle does a horrifying Animorph style morph into a waterbear (a tardigrade if you wanna get all Bio 101) to get out of her bonds but then Sam who has a serious one track mind re: getting out of here (Correct) and has exactly zero patience for these guys casts Tidal Wave and just knocks them off the cliff. Yelle frees Ostentatia who frees everyone else with Animate Object on their chains. Hands free, Yelle also casts Locate Animal and tells a very pleased Katja that Cinnamon is doing a full Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron down the highway searching for her. 

The girls decide to explore the cave which has recently had most of its treasure moved (it’s currently in the gym for the Prompocolypse fight which is currently happening). Penny and Sam (who are in insanely different emotional places) find all these broken mirrors which Sam takes as a cue that they need to GTFO (which is what she was already doing) and Penny thinks would make a great material for friendship bracelet making which she starts doing as Sam physically pulls her away. Sam hears someone doing post-cry sniffles and is like, “Not today Satan,” still trying to leave. However, Penny sees that there is one mirror left and, inside, sees a ethereal looking human with flowing, preternatural, black hair who senses their presence and asks if Penny is someone named Anima. She asks for their names though she declines to give hers (hmm, feels very fae) and the girls give the fake names of Kelly and Cecelia which the figure says she will guard and not misuse. The figure says she is looking for her sisters (who she says when Penny asks are at Aguefort which...hmmmmm) and, all of a sudden, Sam and Penny are having a bad feeling about those mirror shards. 

They ask her a question about the mirror and she gets really aggro when it’s referred to as “her” mirror as she would very much like to be out of it. The woman really wants to get out and says she can give them lots of power if they help. Sam pulls out her compact Mirror of the Past (magic item that does basically what you’d expect--shows you info from something’s past though in a cryptic way usually) to try and get some info on this thing and just barely avoids losing her mind in the process because this thing is ancient. Like eons old. She also learns the woman’s name (or maybe title): The Ending of Things (will be calling her Ending for now).

Yikes!

Right around now the other girls come in and can see at the angle they’re looking at her at the woman in the mirror is Not Really A Person and Antiope points at her and reflexively casts a ranger sense spell to try and clock its weaknesses and stuff but Ending grabs the spell energy like a lasso and tries to drag her into the mirror. She does however find out that she’s stacked with hella resistances (total immunity to necrotic damage and non-maj weapons, resistance to most elemental damage, and more).

Sam briefly considers using Lightning Lure to pull Antiope back before deciding on a much less ouchy Counterspell. Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough and now she’s being pulled in by her spell energy too. Yelle casts Erupting Earth which has some pros and cons.

Pros: Antiope and Sam are saved! Yay!

Cons: The mirror breaks and whatever was in it is fully freed. Not yay!

Shortly after (but not before Penny gives everyone their new friendship bracelets), someone calls into the cave looking for them--it’s Fig’s mom, Sandra-Lynn (with new art)! She’s happy and impressed that everyone is OK (also, Katja and Sam both have little lines that foreshadow their ~parental issues~ for the season--Katja being very moved by the simple act of Sandra-Lynn showing up for them and Sam saying that in her experience moms can be very evil).

As they all leave the cave, they all do checks and get some info:

Ostentatia: The mirror was kinda like a palimpsest (the crystals they were trapped in) and whatever this thing is is ancient and powerful. 

Yelle: Gets the above info and the fact that when the thing left it wasn’t quite a bad vibe, just the vibe that something big and important is at play.

Penny: On an Arcana check she knows that what Danielle did 100% saved Antiope and Sam’s lives from whatever and wherever was on the either side of the mirror but the contact marked them in some way. 

Katja: With History she sees some Primordial writing which is the writing of elementals (one of the things Ending has resistances to which might be relevant; also Sam reads Primordial but doesn’t get to read what it says)

Antiope: She knows that she and Sam are connected to Ending now somehow but it’s a two way connection which means they can also use it to their advantage. 

Ostentatia casts Mending on the mirror shards which I think was to reconstruct the mirror but what it actually does is someone link their friendship bracelets. Cute!

And, with that, we cut to the present a year and a half later (which is Jr or Sr year for everyone). 

We hop from kid to kid as they get ready to head in to school and get glimpses into their homes lives! Let’s do a quick rundown for each girl:

Antiope Jones

We see that Antiope is the youngest of five in what is essentially a military family full of basically every kind of fighter (she says she basically lives in a “Crossfit box”). There’s an 8 year gap between her and her sister Corsica who is the second youngest so her parents are kind of already living like empty nesters. When she comes downstairs she is promptly handed a protein smoothie and told two pieces of info: (1) from Corsica she learns that she overheard at school --where she teaches--that Aguefort needs to talk to her for some reason but she won’t say why which annoys the crap out of Antiope and (2) her parents lined up an internship for her at the Ministry of Adventure. She and her mom verbally spar a bit about them being all up in her life and how stressed she is and how she likes what she has going now with the Seven but her mom wins ofc because she’s a Mom and also a master tactician with a deft hand for loving mom guilt. On the way to school her bros (who include a gunslinger and an eldritch knight cause they run the whole gamut of fighter classes) Facetime her like, “Yikes Ant, heard about what happened with Mom, this is why you don’t fight her lmao.”

Sam Nightingale

This is a heavy one so strap in. 

We check in with Sam who isn’t at her own family’s home but at Penelope’s family home which is off the bat eyebrow raising. It’s an upper middle class house and, on the way down, she has to pass Penelope’s bedroom which is conspicuously empty. Downstairs she’s greeted by Penelope’s human mom Rebecca who she learns is moving out soon because her elf husband is both cheating on her while away in Falinel and starting the divorce process. Sam clearly sees Penelope’s mom as a surrogate mom (for reasons we’ll learn in a second) and goes full ride or die assuring her that her ass is better than the ass of the woman he’s cheating with and offering to help burn his stuff even though drowning is more her specialty (she’s so cool). She also is a little stricken at the thought of Rebecca leaving her in the house alone but Rebecca says she can come with if she wants, she just didn’t want to disrupt her school life.

She also tells Rebecca that her bio-mom called recently which immediately sets Sam off. Through the convo we learn a couple of things:

Sam used to be an actor it seems.

And it seems like she was kicked out of the house after she transitioned or something similar which is why she lives with the Everpetals. 

Now that it’s more “fashionable” to to be trans (her mom’s words, not mine) she wants Sam to talk to her so they can get her back in the game.

Sam is having none of that and tells Rebecca to just delete her mom’s number. Then they have a cathartic session of burning her cheating husband’s shit before Sam leaves in Sebastian--her sentient, seafoam blue, self-driving car with a very hot male voice which I am extremely jealous of. She picks up Zelda on the way to school and they commiserate a little and have a heart to heart about adults and change and how much Zelda wants to body slam Sam’s mom. 

Penny Luckstone 

Penny’s house is a whirlwind of activity and her harried parents get her and her 19 young siblings ready for school (no wonder she’s such a good babysitter). We see where Penny gets her type-A ness from as her mom and dad both have this cheerful but overworked energy of “EVERYTHING IS FINE” like that Good Place sign. Her mom spares a second to tell her that she recently got a letter for The Society of Shadows which is like a super secret rogue college (which her parents assume is legit even though they haven’t heard of it cause they’re Mumple people and also, if you've heard of a rogue school, how good could it really be?) Penny is excited except that it would mean she’d have to move and leave her party. Her mom is like “hey it’s a full ride and there are 20 of you guys so just take that into consideration but it’s ultimately your decision” before she dashes away to get to work because it is always Go Go Go with the Luckstones. She texts Sam for a ride and Sam swings by to grab her. This is not plot relevant but she has a booster seat in the back of Sebastian with her name carved into it and it’s important to me that you know that. 

Katja Cleaver

Next up is Katja who lives in a Richie Rich style mansion and comes from very old money as she is descended from one of the first adventurers in Solace. She is in the barn with Cinnamon and the bugbear farrier they have employed (her name is Gertrude and a farrier is someone who does horseshoes). She eats the same breakfast as Cinnamon (hot dry oats and berries baybee) wo she loves so so dearly. Cinnamon is a magical horse--basically like a Find Steed spell that’s on all the time. She’s modeled the horse in her fave book series--the Babysitter’s Horse of course. Lockwood, the staff’s hobgoblin butler, is also there and they get a fantasy Zoom call from Katja’s dad who is in the middle of the insane 20th level adventurer stuff which he says might make him miss her graduation. She is extremely disappointed but just barely hides it from her dad (who seems to really care despite his not being around). She can’t hide it from the staff or Cinnamon however and Cinnamon offers to give her a ride to school via the scenic route. 

Note: We also learn two sad facts about Katja from the conversation with her dad.

Her mother is Disney Princess dead* and

She wears one half of a friendship necklace and it seems like she’s waiting for someone to give the other half to. It’s implied earlier that the way Penelope got her was by promising to be her best friend. Sad!

*Edit: Well, she’s gone and we’ll leave it at that until next recap. 

Ostentatia Wallace

Ostentatia wakes up and goes downstairs to have a very high energy in both directions interaction with her very fantasy-Italian mom and grandma. Her grandma is concerned her beard isn’t coming in--not knowing she shaves it on purpose which her mom is like, “Listen it’s fine but don’t tell grandma it’ll kill her.” She clocks very quickly that her dad isn’t there and his mithril working tools are gone. Her mom tries to play it off but she knows she’s being lied to and her mom relents. Her dad is at a meeting with the other workers of the shut down mithril factory and negotiations have ceased. It looks like he’s gonna be long term out of work. That explains where her dad is but not why the tools are missing. She decides to go do some investigating on her own and ambushes her dad in his car where, with the inaugural nat 20 of the season, she realizes he pawned his tools to get her 5 revivify diamonds. She's upset by this and he’s upset that she’s, in his eyes, questioning his ability to take care of his family. She’s like, alright, you did a thing for me, I’ll do a thing for you and she casts Animate Object to make his stuff steal itself back in a sequence that involves an animated crowbar using another crowbar which is just wild.

Danielle Barkstock

I’m gonna be real, Danielle’s life is exactly how you assume it is based on Who She Is As A Person so this one will be real short. Eco-friendly off the grid geodesic yurt. One super chill peace and love elf sorc mom and one rough and tough human ranger mom. She also knows and helps the Cubbies with their anarchist machinations because yeah, duh. She gets some messages from school on her crystal--one being a message from the principal saying that she and the rest of her party have first period off to meet with him and the other being a newsletter from the school showing, among other things, a photo of the Druid class doing a project but she’s not in it for some reason. She texts one of the other druids to see if she can figure out why she wasn’t invited but fully gets left on read. Brutal. Of course, she hasn’t messaged that person in 6-8 months so maybe that’s why.

Anyway, with that, all seven of our maidens make it to school and are all exuberant to see each other in a very teen girl way before getting to the principal’s office and learning that their party will be broken up at the year! 

Bad!

Superlatives 

I wanted to do something a little different for these recaps than the Bad Kid ones so instead of Honor Roll/Detention we are doing Superlatives and the inaugural one goes to...

Sam: Most Like To Survive a Horror Movie

Man she woke up chained in a ritual magic circle and she was Ready To Go Immediately. You will not catch this girl doing horror movie victim BS like exploring the spooky house or giving the creepy obvious ghost the time of day. She is hyper-competent and her goal is making it out alive and dragging her friends with her. Love her.  

Random Thoughts

The season immediately starts with a bang or I should say a bing with Izzy trying to say “bling bang” and accidentally saying, “bling bing” and immediately getting roasted by everyone. I love the authentic girl group vibes (which include everyone clowning on her then immediately hyping up Zelda to the max after being way more awkward). 

Handshake meme with Danielle and Moonshine from Naddpod. Also, Cinnamon and Horse from Centaurworld. 

I love that Rekha and Erika just straight up were like, “Our characters are Asian”. Like obviously, make your characters Asian coded in your fantasy world--all my D&D characters are black like me--but it’s funny that they completely disregarded the, “There’s no Asia in this world so I guess they’re this world’s equivalent to--” Nah just, “I’m a half-elf and I’m Asian.” You love to see it. 

I absolutely LOVE the choices the cast made to flesh out their characters based on the little info Brennan had about them, none moreso than rich horse girl Katja. Rekha is a genius. 

“I only want one thing and he’s working” KATJAAAAAAA

Man if I was in that flashback I would have been wilding out so much with my flashback plot armor. 

I appreciate that the first thing that Aabria has Antiope do is extremely uncool. I love it when players aren’t concerned about just being cool and on point all the time. Sometimes (read: often) that’s the less interesting choice. 

But on the exact opposite side, she’s a ranger and an arcane archer which I think is extremely cool. Lmao also I didn’t mention in the recap but she HATES dragons now which, understandable. I’m guessing they're her favored enemy. 

I can’t wait to see another group of kids interact w/ madman Aguefort. 

Also, as a known Aelwyn-stan, I am very excited for the possibility of the Seven interacting with her cause as much as I love her they are under no obligation to acknowledge her redemption arc and I would love to see them throw hands. 

I love the Greek myth naming scheme of Antiope’s extremely cool family as with her on the spot nickname “L-Cab” short for long caboose since she’s the youngest by a mile. 

Also this is out of character not in character but Sephie is an extremely cool nickname for Persephone. 

I wonder why Brennan didn’t let Sam read the Primordial in the cave. He just glossed right past her saying that she speaks it and she didn’t push it. Would it have solved his entire plot in the span of a flashback or was he just keeping things moving?

Sidenote, if I was married to an elf man and worried about aging like Rebecca, I would simply become a druid (or a monk or up my wizard levels so I could learn True Polymorph or Wish or something). 

I wonder what the deal with Ending is. She seemed relatively sincere in the mirror but that doesn’t mean anything. She could be sincere and also Very Bad News. 

There is an offhand comment by Brennan about how the dwarf forge god gives spells but doesn’t talk to his followers which I think means that Ostentatia is gonna be getting a direct god call soon enough. 

Also she mentions that her dad is doing some criminal activity on the side which seems like a Problem for later. Honestly all of the kids have some pretty rich parent drama happening which should be interesting to see explored. 

No nat 1s this ep and 1 nat 20 as I mention from Ostentatia. 

The Extras in Merlin Deserved Better

I don’t know why, but I am like. In love??? With the extras on Merlin??

Elena, Mithian, Queen Annis, Daegal, Tyr Seward, Gilli, Will, Sefa, Freya? I just love all of them <3

Except Kara. We don’t talk about her here.

And something that pisses me off the most? Some of the extras (most only appeared in ONE episode) got more character, and more LINES than someone like Percival or Elyan. Like what kinda shit is that?

Daegal was just a mislead boy who lost his mother to Uther, just trying to survive, but at the last moment, just wanted something in his life to be good. To make a difference.

Tyr Seward was a simple boy, optimistic, trusting, and loyal. He would do anything for his mother, and even when he was arrested by the knights, he was able to look the king in the eye with nothing but respect, and a little bit of confusion/anxiety. Not a trace of anger or betrayal. He was so trusting that he walked right up to the bars when Gwen asked him too, which is what got him killed. He’s baby. Don’t even try to change my mind.

William of Ealdor was Stubborn, mischievous, and had a heart of gold when it came to his loved ones. He liked to pretend that he was all for himself, but when it came down to it, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Merlin or his village. He died protecting someone that he didn’t necessarily like, and had enough life left to spare that he used his remaining time to get Merlin out from under the threat of being discovered. His last words before death were: “Merlin. Merlin, I’m scared.” He wasn’t peaceful or accepting, or brave in the face of death. He was scared. And if that isn’t heartbreaking, I don’t know what is.

Elena was a clumsy, lovable mess, who was insecure when comparing herself to other royals. “I’m not the perfect princess, am I?” Once the Shide left her body, she was more coordinated, and more level headed. She understood when Arthur said he didn’t want to marry her, and told him she felt the same. We didn’t get to see her becoming her own person, but she was probably just the same. A young woman who loved riding horses because it made her feel closer to her mother, hated high heels with a passion, and began to learn that she is just as valuable (if not more) as the princesses of other kingdoms. (Her and Mithian would have gotten along great, too, I think.)

Mithian is our next point. She was... (my bi ass wants to write an essay on how beautiful she was but that isn’t the point of this post) ...Incredible. Her father raised her so well, no doubt telling her that she could be anything she wanted to be. Raising her to care for her subjects, until she grew into the woman we met. She loves hunting, and sports, and is friendly to everyone she meets. She gives them the benefit of the doubt, and lets be honest. She had so much fun watching Arthur trip over his own feet. She isn’t afraid to speak her mind, telling Odin exactly what she thinks of him. She loves her father, to the point where she lead Arthur into a trap just so her dad wouldn’t be harmed. She’s rebellious, tried time and time again to escape Morgana, or alert someone of her presence, despite the threat to herself. And at the end of the day, she just wants someone to love.

Sefa just wanted to make her father proud. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but her father was her father, and she would always love him more than life itself. She was shy, and kind hearted, and more than a little frightened of her dad. I like to think that after her father passed away, she considered joining Morgana, before ultimately deciding that she didn’t want to be part of all that bloodshed. No longer living under her father’s wing, she explored Albion, meeting strangers, taking her time to grieve, and eventually finding herself in places she never thought she’d see. It’s what she deserves.

Queen Annis was a strong woman, living under the shadow of her husbands death, but still managing to overcome her bitterness and grief, and seeing the promise of a young King’s future. She was a trusted ally for many years, and could always be depended upon in Camelot’s hour of need. I just think she’s neat.

Gilli just wanted to be noticed. And not looked down upon. He resented his father, not for not using magic, but being a stubborn man who let himself get killed, leaving his young son behind. He was stubborn, and took quite a lot of persuading, (and wrestling with some self-searching and dare I say self-loathing on Gilli’s part) before he finally realized just how strong his father was. He left Camelot with the intent on being better. and that’s really all that matters.

And of course we can’t forget Freya. This girl was so damaged, so frightened, so sure that she was a monster, that she was worth nothing, and Merlin managed to show her that she was in fact, a person capable and deserving of love. She cried when Merlin was late to visit, because she thought he abandoned her, just like everyone else did. In the span of a couple days, Merlin managed to worm his way into Freya’s life to the point where she recognized him in her animal form, and was able to control herself, when it should have been impossible. She is such a complex character, with past trauma, that shows itself in the way she always thinks she needs to be alone, leaving Merlin before he can run away with her. Not to mention, its my personal headcanon that the man that attacked her, the one who she killed, the sorceress’s son? I think that he tried to sexually assault/abuse her. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I thought he was going to kill me.” I just think that Freya was a character that a lot of people who have been sexually assaulted, or abused, could relate too. And it’s really unfair that we only had her for an episode.

Honorable mention? Mary and John, from the episode: Lamia. (S4 E8) Like, How do they know Gwen? I headcanon that Mary was Gwen’s godmother. She was best friends with Gwen and Elyan’s mother, never wanting children of her own, but falling in love with Gwen and Elyan the fist moment she held them. She would watch over them when they couldn’t go with their mother to work. Sometimes they would be able to stay with their mom while she was working for Leon’s household, hence the childhood friendship formed, but sometimes, if their mother was too tired to watch them and also do her job, Mary would take care of them >.< Idk I just think its cute.

I could write an essay about basically every minor character in Merlin. And now I kinda want someone to write a collection of one shots focusing solely on all the Extras that we met.

Come Into My Life

This is my entry for @nekoannie-chan​‘s writing challenge. Congratulations on 500followers :D! Thank you so much for letting me participate!

This is a series. The remaining parts will be posted throughout the day. It is a Thor fanfic with a song prompt “Entra en mi Vida” (its a beautiful song, i highly recommend).

Song Prompt: Entra en mi Vida by Sin Bandera 

Warnings: swearing, like a lot of it. Mentions of human experimentation. that’s it?? Also, people are idiots here, folks. bare with me.

Summary: You live in a world where soulmates don’t exist. Like, at all. All that meant to be, fate has chosen nonsense? Not real. Literal, actual, from-the-TV-screen fairytale. So... why is the God of Thunder convinced that you’re his?

Part One: Entra en mi vida, te abro la puerta

"So—" You clear your throat, throwing yourself onto the only empty seat, "—all jokes aside, guys. What the fuck!"

Everyone blinks at you, drinks in their hands and confusion all over their faces.

You stare back at them, completely dismissing the new sets of eyes staring at you. "No, seriously, like what the fuck?" You reiterate. "Like, no guys, this fuck needs an answer. What the fuck."

"Are we supposed to know what this fuck is?" Ghost asks, the first among the group of five to surpass her confusion. "Because I have a what the fuck for that what the fuck."

You reach over to grab her drink and she – having been used to your antics after three years of friendship – moves it closer for you to grab. You take a sip, let the taste of her chamomile tea settle on your tongue, blanch and give it back.

"So, you know how the Avengers got their asses whipped after they pulled a deadbeat dad, right?" You make grabby hands towards Hope's drink, and she – just like Ghost – pushes it over to you.

"Careful," she grimaces, "it has a kick to it."

"So did Thanos," You mumble as you take a sip of her drink. The espresso sits heavily on your tongue and you swear you can feel it stain your teeth. "What the actual fuck, Hope? What is this? And why does it not have sugar?"

She chooses to roll her eyes at you and mimic the remaining two new faces by staying quiet. Her eyes narrow at you in warning.

"Don't get a tude with me, missy—" You wag your finger at her, “—you're the one that MIA'd for five years without a return address and pissed off the Feds. Like, seriously, what the fuck guys? We had plans and everything! Why the fuck would you leave me alone for that long? You know how I get when I'm not forced to socialise!"

Ghost snorts. "Don't be a baby."

Pouting, because you’re very mature, you feign a sniffle and stick your tongue out at her. "Weeeeeh."

The dude with the annoyingly short blond hair snorts, consequently gaining your attention, and tries to hide his smile with his cup.

"You're new," you narrow your eyes at him. "Why are you new? And why do you look like the dude that owes me 12K for wrecking my car?"

"Oh my god—" Ghost grumbles in the background, "—not this again."

"I have bills and crippling debts and things that need to be paid for, Ghost!"

"You're a trust fund baby, you shithead!" She argues. "You don't know what crippling debt looks like!"

"You don't know that! My investment portfolio has been crumbling since the stock market crashed last year due to the recession."

Sam grins cheekily at you. "You have no idea what you just said, do you?"

Huffing and puffing, all you can say is. "Let's go back to the what the fuck that needs to be discussed." You glare at him pointedly, "then maybe, we can discuss why you're still here and why you came back from ashes."

"I know you missed me, cupcake." The evil bastard reaches over and pinches your cheek.

"I miss dancing on your grave," You try to swat his hand away, "now, thanks to your selfishness, I need a new dance floor. Very rude of you to not stay dead."

"You're adorable."

"As I was whatting the fucks," You turn back to Hope and Ghost, "when the fuck did my life become Thor versus Thanos, and why am I the Thor without the hammer to fight Thanos?"

"Is that your what the fuck?"  Ghost frowns.

It's her turn to get glared at. "Don't act like you haven't seen the footage. You know exactly how badly Thor got yeeted off his high horse. I'm only regretful that Captain Wrecking Ball wasn't knocked off his."

"You know he's over here, right?" Hope, ever the oblivious one to your obvious jabs, points at the dude that wrecked your car.

"Yeah, unlike my car and the check he has yet to hand over but hey—" lifting up the cup of espresso, you grin at her "—when life gives you lemons."

"I'm still confused and offended about the Thanos reference." Sam, the gift from the bad side of Pandora's box, begins. "What do we have to do with your life?"

"What does pulling a deadbeat dad mean?" The other new dude asks, his face is both the definition of confused and annoyed. "And what does it have to do with the Avengers?"

You frown. "Now I'm confused—"

"Oh no—" Ghost grimaces.

"—Why do you look like the dude from Gossip Girl but also like the dude on the UN's wanted poster of 20something?" You turn to Sam for assistance. "Doesn't he look like that old geezer from the museum?"

Sam grins, leans back in his seat to take a proper look at the manbun dude. Your table is the round one placed at the corner – the irony – and, until recently, it has always been occupied by the four of you. That was before they decided to ghost you for half a decade.

 "Now that you mention it—"

"Oh, fuck off." Manbun snaps at Sam, and you swear you've never fallen in love faster in your entire life than you have in that moment.

Your grin is wide and shit-eating as you put the cup down. You extend your hand to Manbun and wiggle your freshly painted — somehow chapped – fingers.

"I'd tell you my name but it's better if you just called me sweetheart," You’re still grinning. "What's your sign and what time can you pick me up?"

He blinks at you, still confused, and frowns at your hand. Slowly, because you’re a patient girl, you lean over and pry his left hand away from his cup. You place your palm in his and wrap your fingers around each other.

"I'd ask for your name but I think I'll settle for calling you babe," You shake his hand, and then place it back on the cup. "Or hun. I'd call you handsome, but that's too tacky and we—” You point between the both of you, " – don't do tacky."

You sit back in your seat and glance at Sam. "Well... Most of the time anyway."

At this, the rest of your life flashes you a grin. "How does eight o'clock sound?"

"It sounds like a recipe for disaster." Ghost cuts in, narrowing her eyes at you. "Back off, shithead. You've hurt enough of my coworkers"

Jaw dropping and shock feigning, you gasp. "How is that my fault?"

"Is that joke?" Ghost frowns, "because I feel like it's a joke. Three incidences with the analysts and five tech support team make it look like a joke."

You scoff at that. "Look, if your little back up boys can't handle the essence of a real woman, then that's not my fault." Confidently – and silently annoyed – you also add. "Plus, I actually did SHIELD, or whatever ridiculous name you're calling the remake of a failed organisation, a favour. If your boys behind the boys in spandex can't handle being told off by a 'mouse' as they call us, then they shouldn't be behind the dude that wrecked my car.

 "But now that I've said that out loud—" You pause, "—I finally understand why the Avengers are so bad at their job. I mean, with such poor support systems, it's no wonder boy blue and red uses cars as a landing mechanism. It's almost as if he's never heard of a parachute."

There's a pregnant pause as you pretend to ponder the situation. The new dude with the blond hair has visibly turned red and is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Manbun has a very permanent looking frown smeared all over his face and you’re pretty sure you've just ruined whatever chances you had of giving him children. And Sam, because he's Sam and is patiently waiting his turn to roast you, has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

Ghost pretends to scowl at you, even though you’re pretty sure she's already drawing up the schematics for the pedestal she's about to build for you. Hope, because she's Hope and has first-hand experience of dealing with spoilt little brats that use creative antics to slowly drive people away, decides to use that exact moment to sigh and expose you.

"Hey sweetheart," she begins in that voice of betrayal. "Can you, like, not be an antisocial, territorial pain in the ass for five minutes and be nice? Stop trying to get our guests to leave with your little mind games, yeah?"

You blink at her. Once, twice. Because the betrayal always takes a few moments to sink in.

"They're not mind games." You retort. "Boy Blue over there did wreck my car. He used it to cushion his fall, because apparently the super-secret organisation that harbours entitled idiots doesn't invest in parachutes."

"But you don't even need that 12K—"

"I didn't ask for the 12k. I just simply pointed out that his reckless behaviour is very costly for those who suffer for it."

"Okay, guys—" Ghost tries to interject, but it's too late. The fire has already started, and Hope and you have never been on the same page when it comes to anything involving the Avengers.

"You're being unreasonable now. You, of all people, should understand that some things are out of our control."

"That doesn't excuse or make the damage done alright. The ruining of people’s livelihoods isn’t a necessary evil for your super heroe'ing righteousness." You point out, eyes narrowed, and teeth bared. "I, of all people, don't understand your defence. Because I don't use the lab that made me as an excuse to get away with the bad shit I do to people. Whether intentionally or not."

"Really? Because you weren't singing that same song when you cashed in on all that HYDRA inheritance."

"I am not the people that made me and it's not like I'm vacationing the money away. Or have you forgotten about that harbour I had to fix because your boyfriend decided to grow a few sizes?"

"Oh, how could I forget? It's not like you rub it in his face every time he tries to so much as even say hi to you."

"People should be held accountable for their actions. Excuse me for exercising my fifth amendment because I don't think communicating with the guy that turned your dad into a fugitive by siding with the anti-accords gang is cool!"

"That accords was messed and you know it!"

“Yeah, but I didn’t go around trying to be a vigilante about it!”

"Just admit that your stance for the accords is only because you need the government's protection against ex-Hydra agents."

She hit a cord and she knows it. "You're treading on very thin ice, Hope."

 "Scared they might come back and finish what they started? Now that Pierce and Rumlow are gone, there's nothing stopping them from finishing what they started, is there?"

"You know," You sigh, reaching for Ghost's drink and taking a sip. "At least, I don't have to abduct a man from his home, nearly ruin his chances at freedom, risk his life numerous times for my personal gain, just cause I have a theory about my mom's whereabouts. And then—" You let out a condescending laugh at the thought, "—have the audacity to look him in the eye and call it love. Because, ya know, turning a guy into a science experiment and berating him for doing what he thought was right is so romantic."

She's turning red. You can see it before it actually happens and there is a sick sense of pleasure coursing through your veins at the thought. At the fact that you’re the one pressing all the buttons.

Boy, are you fucked up.

"Damn." Sam mumbles, then chortles, then belts out a laugh. "Shit. Who pissed in your gourmet breakfast?"

"People," You scowl at him. “Fucking people. Because, now call me a bitch if you insist, I don't remember telling management to sign a deal with SHIELD."

"What the fuck?" Ghost, ever so caring, contributes to your bewilderment and pissy mood.

You nod frantically at her. "Exactly! What the fuck! Do you see why I needed you guys so bad? Like, it's like the creation of the Strike Force all over again!"

"Hold on—" Captain Damage Ball cuts in. "—I'm confused. What exactly is going on and what does SHIELD have to do with it?"

"Oh boy. Germany, here we go again—"

"Don't be an asshole, shithead."

 --

 When SHIELD fell and Black Widow released all those classified documents to the public, your existence was made known to the public. It turned out that running a terrorist cell inside a super-secret organisation wasn't the only thing Pierce had hidden from the world. You were.

You were supposed to be an experiment. Another volunteer, like the Twins, for Hydra's ultimate plan. Another Bucky Barnes, but without the constant torture to keep you mindless and loyal.

 You were supposed to be the next generation. The Rumlow that wouldn't need force and violence to get the job done. That was the requirement. Those were the orders. That's what you were supposed to be.

Instead, somewhere deep in the dark, cold corners of an abandoned Hydra lab, the inhumane attempt of creating Winter Soldiers through 'natural means' had taken place.

The surrogates were all volunteers, the scientist claimed.

The procedure was necessary for the mission, the doctor explained.

This is the only way forward, the master mind behind that plan argued.

Rumlow took care of the agents himself. Pierce burned down that lab himself. And, out of all the children born, you were the only one that lived longer than the rest. The others were unfortunate enough to be experimented on, before Rumlow found out.

Not knowing who to trust, Pierce kept you hidden from the world and Hydra. He never hid the truth from you, nor did Rumlow. They knew that, at some point, those that knew about the lab would eventually find you, and you needed to be prepared for when they did.

When SHIELD fell, the paper trail that led to your existence was small – miniscule, even – but it was there. Sam found it, but he kept you a secret as well until you were ready for the whole world to know.

But the world wasn't waiting for you to be ready. It wasn't that patient, nor kind. Because, with everything out in the open, chaos ensued, and you were still – at the end of the day – the next generation. All those assets couldn't remain frozen forever and all those lives that were ruined by Hydra couldn't remain unaided.

So, you had to step out and – begrudgingly – announce your existence to the world. Put a huge target on your back and claim the inheritance that Pierce had unwittingly left you.

"I'm gonna go piss off alot of bad people—" You had said to Sam over the phone, right before your News Interview. "What do you think I should start with?"

He wasn't having any of it. "Did you just wait for me to leave the country so you could do something stupid?"

"Of course not, I'm not you—" You scoffed, checking your outfit again. "—I hired a hacker to fake a series of cyber-attacks. Then I asked that girl, you know – the one that could walk through walls, to freak a bunch of people out. So, you know, it could be an Avenger level threat, but not the kind that needed Captain Spandex, so they'd send you. Then I scheduled the interview for the night of the supposed attack, because I knew you'd be gone—"

"Are you kidding me, Y/N— Clint, turn this thing around now!"

"—So, I was thinking I show up on stage and say 'the law says I can take all those assets and I'm gonna use them to do the exact opposite of what my ex-bosses would've wanted'. How does that sound?"

"Do me a favour. Don't move. I wanna kill you myself."

You grinned. "I knew you'd love it."

--

Next Part

TAGS: @nekoannie-chan​ , @thorfanficwriter​

Follow Your Arrow (or You’ll Never Know What You’re Missing)

Prompt: Childhood Friends 

Relationship: Geralt/Renfri

Rating: T

Warnings: no warnings apply

Summary: Geralt: I can handle myself. I am a Witcher. Renfri: And that [insert monster here] was coming at you from behind and I took care of it before it ripped your throat out

Here is my third fic for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s head whipped up to look around, he had heard the slightest rustling in the underbrush behind him. He turned his head around to look right when an arrow zipped past his face and landed solidly in the center of the makeshift target hanging from a tree branch.

“You almost hit me,” Geralt grunted.

“I thought you were supposed to have quicker reflexes than that, or did those mutations do nothing?” A voice said. Geralt groaned in annoyance.

A few moments later, a girl of about sixteen, the same age as Geralt—who had undergone his Witcher mutations several months earlier—walked out from behind the bushes, bow in hand and a quiver of arrows on her back.

“Aren’t there other people you can terrorize, Renfri?” Geralt asked.

“Why would I want to when you’re my favorite person to terrorize? It’s what best friends do, they terrorize each other.”

“I think you have a skewed idea of what friendship is,” Geralt said, the small smile on his face a contradiction to his words.

“Well everyone tells me I’m crazy,” she said as she walked closer and slung an arm around Geralt’s shoulders, standing slightly on her tiptoes to do so.

“You’re not crazy, Ren,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

He knew that Renfri was going to reply with something self-deprecating disguised as something  humorous, so he changed the subject before she could continue.

--------------------

Geralt and Renfri had met when they were both young teenagers. Renfri had run away from Creyden and found her way to Kaedwen and eventually Kaer Morhen. She hadn’t expected that the Witchers would help her, but she did have quite a bit of coin she stole before she fled. And it turned out that Witchers, at least the Wolf Witchers she met, where a lot kinder than stories of them led one to believe.

Her friendship with Geralt wasn’t instantaneous in any way, but she felt drawn to him when she met him. He was quiet and only talked to a couple other witcher trainees that he had grown close to. He was also kind and strong and he didn’t shy away from her just because she was a girl.

Their friendship really started when Geralt caught her in the armory taking a bow off the wall where it hung. He could have told his teachers and gotten her in trouble, but instead he helped her sneak out and silently set up makeshift targets for her to shoot.

A few days later, Vesemir arranged for her to join the archery lessons of the trainees a few years younger than Geralt. Apparently Geralt had asked his favorite instructor to see if Renfri could focus on archery since she already excelled at it.

Renfri proved her ability within the first day, when she out shot all the trainees in the class. She also proved to be leagues better than Geralt and even some of the older witchers. She really was gifted with a bow and arrow.

Despite being an awful shot himself, Geralt would get a bow for himself and practice with her. It always ended in laughter from Renfri as Geralt’s arrows went wide or missed the target completely.

“Hey, Geralt, have you ever tried archery blindfolded?” Renfri asked.

“Um, I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Why not, at least that way you wouldn’t know what you were missing.” Renfri said, trying to hold in her laughter.

Geralt sighed in defeat.

--------------------

Some years later, when Geralt and the rest of his cohort were ready to head out on the Path, Renfri was pissed when she realized Geralt had set off without her. He had promised that she would go with him whenever he left and yet he left her behind and didn’t even say goodbye, the coward.

She knew that he had qualms about having a companion on the Path since it wasn’t something witchers really did, but he had promised and Geralt had never before broken a promise to her.

After breakfast, when she realized Geralt had left, she ran back to her quarters and dressed in traveling clothes and light armor before packing all of her things into a bag.

She slung her bag and her quiver on her back and grabbed her bow in her hand and set off down the stairs and through the corridors. Along the way, she came across Vesemir, who raised an eyebrow in question.

“Geralt left,” she said.

“He did,” Vesemir confirmed, “this morning at first light.”

“Without telling me,” she said bitterly.

“I see, well he shouldn’t have gotten too far yet, only a couple hours ahead of you, and we both know he is sure to rest that horse sooner rather than later.”

“You won’t stop me?”

“I don’t think I have ever been able to stop you from doing anything.”

“Thank you, Master Vesemir.”

The old witcher nodded. “Look out for each other.”

--------------------

There was not supposed to be a forktail this close to the keep. The older witchers, the experienced witchers, had set out a few weeks earlier and cleared them from the trails leading up to Kaer Morhen, but they must have missed this one. Or maybe it had only recently made its way here and took advantage of the lack of other monsters to fight over territory with.

Either way, it meant that Geralt already had to deal with a monster when he hadn’t even fully made it to the Path yet and wasn’t even getting paid for it. But a monster was a monster and it shouldn’t be so close to the keep.

Geralt left Roach where she should be safe. And she was well trained enough—despite not having been on the path either—that she would run if the fighting and danger got too close to her. He then set off in the direction he last saw the forktail to track and then slay it.

Geralt spotted the forktail a few minutes later, but it took a little while to maneuver to get within range to strike. He followed it to a small clearing ringed with trees and blasted Aard at it, sending it back into a tree with a solid thump.

The hit dazed the creature a bit, but it proceeded to rush towards him in attack. He managed to strike it with his silver sword, but it didn’t do much to slow it’s attacks. Geralt tried to retreat, but the forktail followed, flying up in the air where it was quicker and more mobile and then landing to lash out with its spiked tail.

When the forktail was turned away from him, Geralt spun to gain momentum and struck the beast again, this time causing more damage. But the beast still wasn’t close to being dead yet. Geralt was panting with effort and tried to catch his breath. He raised his sword to strike again, when the forktail again took to the air.

Geralt was trying to track its deadly tail while also keeping track of its head, knowing from the stories of older witchers that a forktail bite could be quite nasty. The forktail ended up above him and as much as Geralt tried to put some distance between them, the monster pursued him.

He started to think that he wouldn’t make it out of this fight alive when the forktail shrieked in pain and took to the ground. Geralt looked up to see an arrow through the forktail’s eye. And before he could swing at the weakened monster or wonder who had shot the arrow, another arrow was soaring through the air and sinking itself into the forktail’s wing, and then another swiftly followed, striking into the wound that Geralt had left with his sword earlier.

Knowing he couldn’t split his focus to find the archer, and already having an inkling as to who it was, Geralt took advantage of the forktail’s weakened state to kill it. He went around to the forktsil’s blindspot—caused by its partial blindness due to having an arrow lodged into its eye—and hacked through the neck with his sword, severing its head from its body.

Still panting with the effort and the adrenaline from the fight, Geralt slumped to the ground. He couldn’t think about cutting up the beast for potion ingredients quite yet. He took stock of his body, noting, thankfully, that he was uninjured, just a little bruised.

He then yelled out, “Renfri! You can come out now.”

Renfri emerged from the trees, bow still in her hands. She rushed towards him, not even giving a glance to the forktail. She knelt down next to him, and put her bow to the side, the arrows left in her quiver jostling against each other as she bent closer to look at him.

“You utter asshole, you absolute coward,” she seethed. “You left without me, without even telling me you were leaving.”

“Witchers don’t have companions in the Path. I can handle myself.”

“Oh like you were handling that forktail that would have ripped your throat out if I didn’t shoot it and weaken it? I think “Thank you, Renfri” is the phrase you are looking for.”

“Thank you, Ren.”

“Oh save it,  don’t say it unless you actually mean it.” Her eyes softened a bit then and she asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just some bruises,” he responded.

“Well that’s good.” She then proceeded to launch herself at him and wrestled him to the ground. “Means I can beat you up for being a coward and leaving without telling me and not worry about you keeling over.”

They rolled and tussled on the ground for a bit and Renfri got him on his back again, hands pinned to the ground near his head as she straddled his torso. “I am coming with you. And I am telling, not asking.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He then opened his eyes again and looked up at her. “I would be honored to have you as my traveling companion.”

“Damn right you would,” Renfri said as she let go of his hands and scrambled off of him and got to her feet. She held out a hand and he took it and let her help him up. She then went to pull her arrows out of the forktail’s body. Geralt followed suit and harvested the parts of the body that could be used for potions. He then perfunctorily cleaned his silver sword before returning it to its sheath on his back.

Once he and Renfri were both ready, he led the way back to where he had left Roach. He stashed the various forktail parts in his saddlebags. Before swinging up onto Roach’s back, he looked at Renfri and said, “Thank you for coming after me.”

“Always, you idiot,” Renfri said, punching Geralt in the arm.

--------------------

It had been a few months of being on the Path when they came across a large town that looked like it was preparing for some sort of festival. It looked like every inhabitant was out in the streets, setting up stalls and decorating storefronts. In a patch of empty land, men were setting up tables for arm  wrestling--as the sign they put on one of the tables informed, and further in the distance, targets for  archery and axe throwing were also put in place.

As they walked a little further they saw a table set up and someone taking down the names of those wishing to enter in the events.

“Geralt, come on, I have to enter. We both know I will win and then we will have enough coin to fix Roach’s saddle.”

“I fixed her saddle.”

“Yes, with an old scrap of leather you fastened with a buckle from a saddle bag.  It’s really holding up,” Renfri said sarcastically. “We need a real leather worker. Face it, it’s not your strong suit.”

“It’ll hold until the next town.”

“Stupid witcher never wanting to let anyone help you,” Renfri muttered. She then rounded on Geralt. “Why can’t you just admit that you know I will win that contest and that we could use the coin no matter how we acquire it? Just because you’re a full-fledged witcher now doesn’t mean you have to act  like a brooding asshole. I thought we at least had a couple decades before that happened.”

“Ren, wait—”

“No. I’m entering the archery contest and enjoying the festival. You can stay or leave, I don’t really care.” With that, Renfri slipped into the bustling market of the town, and Geralt lost where she went. She was the one person he could never track accurately and the one person he wished to always know the whereabouts of. But she knew him better than he knew himself and could easily evade him if she wanted to.

Geralt knew that Renfri was his weakness and it was exactly why he didn’t want to rely on her. It was why he set off on the Path without her. But he could admit to himself that he was relieved when she caught up with him and kicked his ass for leaving her behind. The problem was that he didn’t think he would ever be able to admit it to Renfri.

The least he could do was stick around and cheer her on in the archery contest she was dead set on entering. Roach could also use a break, they had been traveling for a while. With that decided, Geralt sighed and led Roach to the closest inn to see about a room and  where to stable Roach.

--------------------

Renfri stalked off into the crowd and headed towards the table with a couple men calling out, imploring people to sign up for the archery contest. And they advertised that the prize for winning was 150 crowns.

Renfri knew that she and Geralt could really use that money and she knew that she could easily win the contest regardless of whoever in this town she might be up against. While she wasn’t a witcher, she had still been trained in Kaer Morhen, not to mention she was a much better shot than most of the witchers she met, Geralt included.

Renfri knew she had lost Geralt in the crowd, and while she hoped he came to find her eventually, she would just catch up with  him in the next town if he didn’t. But she was on a mission now, a mission to further prove her worth. She usually didn’t care what others thought, but Geralt was different, he always was and always would be. He got under her skin in a way no one else did, but she almost enjoyed it.

That was enough thinking about her dolt of a best friend though, she still needed to actually sign up for the contest.

She finally approached the table and slapped down four crowns and twenty or so coppers  she had dug out of her coin purse. It was almost the last of her coin, She had only noticed the sign advertising an entry fee upon getting closer to the table. But, no matter, it was probably a paltry sum in comparison to the prize she would win.

“Hello, gentlemen. I would like to enter the archery contest that is being held.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” one of the men, spectacles on his face, said snidely, “but that is not enough coin to cover the entry fee.”

She was about to ask what the entry fee was exactly since the sign didn’t actually say when a young man came up to the table and the other man seated behind it greeted him and asked for five crowns.

“Well that answers the question I was about to ask, it’s five crowns for entry then? I’ll be back, see what I can scrounge up from my saddle bags. Just need another crown,” she said mostly to herself.

“I apologize, miss, the entry fee is ten crowns.”

“But that kid just paid five crowns. What’re the extra five crowns for?”

“This is usually an event for citizens of the town.”

“Oh really, it’s just because I’m an outsider then? Or do you just need an excuse to bar a woman from entering? Afraid I will win?”

“Unless you can find the coin to make up the rest of the fee, it looks like you won’t find out if you could beat out the other contestants.” The spectacled man said thinking he had had the last word, a smug smile on his face.

A smile that fell off his face a few moments later. Renfri was about to question it when she felt a presence at her back. The subtle creak of leather giving away that it was Geralt. No wonder the spectacled man had gone pale, probably not used to dealing with witchers.

Geralt reached an arm around Renfri and with a gloved hand put down six more crowns next to her four and scooped up the coppers, passing them back to her. She took them and shoved them into her coin purse tied to her belt.

“That’s ten crowns,” Geralt said to the men, “she has enough to enter.”

The men looked like they wanted to protest, but the beginning of a rumbling growl—and what was surely a matching scowl—from the witcher behind her had them thinking otherwise.

The spectacled man took the coin and handed it to the other man before asking for her name to add to the roster.

“I would say it was a pleasure gentlemen, but it wasn’t, so I won’t.” With that she slipped her hand around Geralt’s bicep and pulled him away from the table.

Once they were out of sight and earshot, leaning on the outside wall of an inn, she deflated a little and leaned her head on Geralt’s shoulder and groaned.

She then moved to lean her head back against the wall instead of his shoulder. Looking over to him, she punched him in the arm and said “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself.”

He chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I know you can handle yourself, I never doubted that. But they were assholes and I know that was the last of your coin. I also know that for some reason you care about this contest.”

“But you don’t. You didn’t even want to stop here. And now you have guaranteed that we will be here longer, and lost the last of <em>your</em> coin.”  

“I didn’t lose it,” Geralt said with a smirk.

“Then what do you call using the last of your coin to pay for my entry fee?”

“An investment.”

It was Renfri’s turn to smirk. “You think I’ll win?”

“I know it.” He said, and flashed her a smile that only she ever saw.

--------------------

The parameters of the archery contest were straightforward and fairly simple. Every contestant was tasked with bringing their own bow and arrows since the town didn’t have them to supply everyone with the exact same equipment. Everyone was to shoot five arrows and whoever hit the bullseye the most or hit closest to the bullseye would be the winner.

Renfri was a little upset that the contest was so simple and she wouldn’t be able to show off any trick shots, but nonetheless she was excited. There were still a few hours until the contest, so she and Geralt settled at a table in the tavern. They didn’t have the coin for an inn room, but they did have enough to order a meal to share for lunch.

While they sat and ate, Renfri saw to her bow and arrows. She checked the string of her bow, testing to make sure it was taut and fixed the fletchings on a couple of her arrows that were a little worse for wear.  

Geralt was quiet while she tended to her equipment. After they finished their shared meal, he took out his Gwent deck and shuffled through his cards to have something to do.

“Well that’s the best it’s going to get,” Renfri said in regard to the arrows she mended. She had a mismatched set since it was easy to lose a few on the road, but also easy to scavenge the arrows that were shot at them from time to time.

“We don’t have much longer to wait. It’s supposed to start soon,” Geralt said. “I’m going to check on Roach beforehand.”

“I’m going to head over to the field then, maybe practice a bit,” Renfri said.

“You don’t need practice.” Geralt said.

“But it can’t hurt,” she said as she fastened her leather chest guard around herself and then checked the fastenings on the bracer on her left arm. She then slung her quiver, full of her newly mended arrows, on her back and grabbed her bow off the table.

Geralt put his Gwent cards away and fastened his swords onto his back. They walked out of the tavern together and parted ways in the square, Renfri to the field and Geralt to the stables.

--------------------

When Renfri got to the field where the archery contest was being held, she looked around at her competition, not that any of them seemed like threats to her victory. Most were gathered around talking with a few taking practice shots at bales of hay with crudely painted target rings on them.

She also noted, unsurprisingly, that she was the only woman present, and probably the only outsider as well. The rest of the contestants were men or boys from the town, if the way they all seemed familiar with each other was anything to go by.

Renfri walked over towards the hay bales and stopped when she got to a plank of wood on the ground that marked where to stand to shoot from the proper distance. She ignored the people around and the glances they threw her direction.

Pulling an arrow out of her quiver, Renfri took up her stance behind the plank of wood, her left boot brushing against it. She drew up her bow and nocked the arrow, the fletching brushing her cheek. She took a breath and released the bow string as she exhaled.

The  arrow soared through  the air and penetrated the  hay bale with a thud. It landed just left of the true center, but still well within the center ring. With a self-satisfied smirk on her face she stared at the arrow for a moment. It felt good to shoot at a target just for the hell of it. She had gotten so used to shooting monsters or the occasional bandit, that she sometimes forgot she liked archery just for fun.

A few of the people gathered around actually clapped. It was odd and completely  unexpected, but nice all the same. She gave a cheeky bow before going to collect her arrow from the hay bale.

--------------------

Once everyone that wanted to had taken their practice shots, they moved on to the actual targets instead of hay bales to begin the contest. There were only ten competitors in total and they each had five shots to take. They went in order of how they signed up, so Renfri was close to the end of the lineup but not last, so she was in the second group.

There was a teenaged boy who took note of everyone’s shots by marking them on targets that he drew in the dirt. He would mark an ‘X’ for where each arrow struck.

Watching the first group, Renfri could admit that a few of them were skilled, but only one hit the bullseye, even if a couple others came close. When it was time for the second group to take their first shots, she was more than ready.

Standing on her mark, she peered around the gathered crowd of spectators. She caught sight of what she was looking for at the edge of the crowd. Geralt, standing out in his black armor, had stationed himself out of range of others, but still close enough to watch the contest.

Renfri caught his eye and he smiled at her, it was a slight thing as he didn’t like to smile much in public, but it was still there and it was for her.

When she lined up her shot and nocked her arrow, she closed her eyes. She took a breath and kept her eyes shut as she released her bow string. She heard someone let out a whoop and then opened her eyes, her arrow was lodged right in the bullseye.

The contest continued from there, with both groups taking their shots until everyone had shot five arrows. By the third round, with Renfri being the only one to even shoot three bullseyes, the rest of the contestants seemed resigned that she was going to win. But surprisingly none of them seemed too upset about it. Maybe they were here more for fun and tradition than to win the coin. With a town like this, whoever won probably spent the coin in the various shops in town, so really it all circulated back. With that thought, Renfri vowed to at least buy a round of ale for all of her fellow competitors after she won.

With her fifth and final arrow, Renfri hit the bullseye yet again, although this one was close to the edge of the circle that made up the bullseye. But it didn’t matter she won, like she knew she would. There was a lot of clapping, and Renfri looked back at the crowd, noticing that there were a lot more women watching than there had been when the contest started. The sight warmed something in her, but not as much as the sight and sound of Geralt with his fingers raised to his mouth to whistle through them. He was showing more outward emotion than he usually did and she loved that something she did brought it out.

She made sure all of her arrows were in her quiver, and started to walk towards Geralt, but in her way, she was intercepted by the spectacled man from earlier who politely handed her a purse full of coin. “Your prize, miss. It was well earned.”

She wanted to say something, but the man walked away before she could even utter a thank you.

On her way to Geralt, she passed the boy who had kept track of everyone’s shots and presented him with the arrow that hit the bullseye on her final shot. The boy looked delighted and thanked her before running off to show his friends.

Renfri finally reached Geralt where he was still standing on the fringes of the crowd. “So how did I do?” She asked.

“I’ve seen better,” he said with mock nonchalance.

“It’s only better when I’m saving your ass, huh?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he hummed.

“Well dinner is on me tonight and you can tell Roach that she will have a repaired saddle soon.”

Renfri started walking back towards the tavern they had been in earlier, but Geralt grabbed her arm. In a low voice, only for her to hear, he said, “thank you.”

“For winning us enough money to last us at least a month? No problem,” she chuckled. “If only contracts were that easy, huh?”

“Not just for that, Ren. Thank you...for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, you dork. But be careful, if you keep showing your soft side, other people  might catch on.”

Chapter 26. The Heart Wants What It Wants

'chaos is only understood when it is loved by the wild, not the weak’ - Zachry K. Douglas

I wondered, briefly, if my parents were as nervous as I was about that day. None of us had planned on me being back in England anytime soon, but there I was anyway. I suppose I should thank Adrien for continually attracting scandal and, therefore, needing me to distract the media from his wild American adventures.

In May, soon after my sister had returned to her previous insane schedule of ice skating training, there was a report from TMZ, of all places, that Prince Adrien of Savoy was now dating Sienna Lapa, a wannabe singer who’d come in second in X Factor a few years prior. This, we came to find out after asking Adrien what was happening, was the friend who had helped him find an apartment in New York when he decided to relocate there.

My parents and Adrien’s mother deemed it a ‘completely inappropriate choice’. Adrien’s sister, Natalie, seemed to be trying to keep an open mind -- she was and had always been her brother’s biggest defender, after all. Lourdes immediately pulled up all the videos from her X Factor journey to show anyone who’d listen, but that only made our family hate the girl more, as most of her performances involved her with too much energy and very few clothes.

“You can all be so close minded…” my sister complained, rolling her eyes, as Natalie watched the video over her shoulder with furrowed brows when she and our aunt came over for tea after the news broke. “We’re just looking out for him.” Our cousin told her. “So you’re on their side now?” Lourdes asked her. Natalie shrugged, defensive. “I think if Adrien likes her, she must be nice.” Her mother scoffed. “We all know your brother’s record with women is not stellar, chérie.” “He dated Faye!” “Exactly.” My father sentenced. “Maggie, what do you think?” Natalie asked.

As they all looked at me, expectantly, I took a moment to ponder how much this had been happening lately. I had been used to speaking softly before, to remarking carefully on things, in case someone would hear me. But as the Crown Princess, my opinion mattered in more ways than I had immediately realized. It wasn’t just the press that suddenly cared about me, my family, too, seemed more invested in my thoughts. As if my verdict could make or break anything within the family just because I was bound to be queen one day.

“I… I don’t think being an artist should mean she will inevitably ruin this family.” I said. My mother shook her head, and my Aunt sighed, but nobody disagreed.

After tea, my father asked me to stay behind as the others left, and sat me down to remind me, sternly, that being the heir – and, one day, the Monarch –, meant it was my duty to safeguard our family from anyone who, purposefully or not, my damage it.

“You think this girl will damage us?” I asked, suppressing an eyeroll. “Papa, she’s just a girl.” “She’s American. They don’t understand monarchies.” He replied. “Not to mention she belongs to an industry that thrives on scandal and notoriety, things that do not have a place in this family.” “We don’t even know her!” I said, smiling, amused against my better judgement. “We know she wants fame.” He replied, seriously. “That doesn’t have a place here.” “We don’t even know if it’s true.” I argued.

Unfortunately, it was. I texted Adrien after this conversation, and he was as frustrated as we were, but for other reasons. ‘Its so new’, he said, ‘we just wanted to enjoy each other before inviting the whole world into it and now here we are’.

According to him, it ‘just happened’. They’d been friends for a long time, she was really supportive after his breakup and helped him adapt to New York. He moved into the same building she lives in, and they started spending more time together; before they knew it, it was more than friendship.

He also made clear he knew perfectly well how unsuitable the relationship was: ‘she’s been trying to establish her music career for a long time, so her future lies in America’, he said. ‘She also has pink hair and a lot of tattoos… can you even imagine her in mass with the rest of the family?’

I could not.

The world couldn’t, either. Press and public alike had a lot of opinions on this relationship, which became everything anyone could talk about. It wasn’t just me that gained notoriety with Louis’ death, Adrien did, too, and, with him, any girl he could one day turn into a princess.

And that was the main reason I was sent to England. An invitation for Royal Ascot was issued every year to our family, we tended not to go simply because it was far and we had other commitments. But we needed to change the conversation, so if it took putting me under a hat and in the same picture as the British royals, so be it.

I could see my parents’ tension about this plan in the way they exchanged silent glances while we talked it through, but they didn’t voice any of it. Of course, they couldn’t. Not if they wanted me to do as I was told. So, they didn’t mention Harry, and I didn’t bring him up, either.

Regardless of this, he was very much in my thoughts essentially 100% of the time, even before the Ascot plan was born. All I had to do was just keep that to myself and, if my parents did the same, we could hopefully hold onto the lie that the issue was over.

So, on that day in mid-June, I took the train early with Cadie and Auguste and my security, headed to England, with a fancy outfit safely packed away in a weekend bag, which I changed into before we arrived.

I was wearing a salmon pink, wide-legged jumpsuit that my mother had deemed ‘too modern’, with my hair styled in vintage waves under a flowery disc fascinator.

The Royal Ascot races were a society event, with the actual races taking a backseat to… pretty much everything else: the fashion, the high profile guests, the arrival of the queen and royal family later on… honestly, it was everything but horses.

As a guest, I didn’t arrive with the other royals in a very much televised carriage ride into the main front lawn, and I was glad to be able to skip it, hoping I might be able to go straight to the viewing area, free of press. Unfortunately, that was the opposite of the goal.

So, even though I arrived privately, I was then escorted to the entry lawn for socializing before the race started. Though Cadie didn’t seem to think it was necessary – which I tended to agree with –, Auguste made sure to find me a pin with my name on it, a must-wear for every guest no matter how high ranked.

“A drink would be actually helpful.” I told them. “Not until the enclosure, I’m afraid.” Cadie replied. Auguste leaned in closer. “Though my colleague may have a different view, ma’am, I feel being seen with alcohol might not be the best course of action for what we’re here to do.” “Boss.” Cadie whispered his way, rispid. “I’m your boss, Mr. Authier. Not colleague.” “Is it appropriate to discuss that at this time, boss?”

I sighed, walking further away from them and into the crowded, sun soaked lawn. One thing I hadn’t grown used to yet was the looks. Every step taken through a public area, particularly one with such a high concentration of high class people, was the target of laser focused glances from almost anyone around. I was forced to develop the ability of confidently aiming my eyes at something abstract, so I was seen as being busy, but didn’t accidentally lock eyes with anyone. It was a perfect recipe for disaster. Which is why I should have expected it.

I didn’t bump into him, that kind of thing didn’t happen at highly planned events like this, especially when you had a large entourage of people with you whose job it was to make sure you went to the right place at the right time to meet the right people. It was more accurate to say our eyes bumped into each other.

There I was, walking slowly through the crowd, avoiding one pair of eyes after the other. First using the far away stands as a distraction point. Then using the awkwardly placed decorative flowers as a distraction point. Which led to using the one very weird hat as a distraction point, as its owner was standing right next to it. But then the hat was so weird I had to see the face of the person wearing it, but she was already looking at me, so I felt awkward and looked away as quickly as possible and, in my hurry, didn’t think too much about it, so instead of a safe distraction point, my eyes found… Harry.

“Ma’am,” Cadie leaned closer, “shall we go greet the president of the Ascot association?” “What? I–” I stuttered, barely able to take my eyes off of Harry. “Sure.”

Heaving a sigh, I allowed myself to be walked around to meet the people it was important for me to meet, doing what I had been doing every day since the last time I had seen him: smiling politely, making smart, appropriate conversation, representing an entire country. All things that were painful reminders of what kept us apart.

I woke up early, I worked hard every day to hold myself accountable to my new role, keeping busy the best I could, but every night when I closed my eyes to sleep, it was his eyes that I saw. It was his voice saying ‘don’t marry him’, the tap of his hand on mine above his heart as he told me ‘it’s yours’, and every time I thought about it my whole body shivered with joy and I wanted to cry of frustration, sadness and anger that I couldn’t just embrace something that was meant to just be a happy thing.

“Yes, my parents were so sad they couldn’t make it.” I told a trustee of the event, sustaining a neutral smile as though my entire body wasn’t shaking.

Sometimes, hypocritically, I wondered why Harry hadn’t reached out, either. I knew, rationally, that it was better that he didn’t, but he had made a point of saying he didn’t have to listen to his advisors when they told him to stay away from me, but he had. Whenever I started to feel sad about this, I reminded myself it was better this way. Safer. Healthier. Then I googled him to make sure he wasn’t dating anyone new, ‘just in case.’

But now there he was, in Ascot. Because of course of the five days of this event we would both go to the same one, believing differently was something only my parents did to help them sleep at night. On my end, I knew it was going to be this way.

It’s like I was fated to always run into him after weeks or months of absence, just to remind my heart of what it was leaving behind. Destined to try and forget him just to see him again, the man I could see, but not feel. Love, but not have. At arm's length, but worlds away.

As I turned away from the U.N. Ambassador, assuring him I would transmit his best wishes to my parents, I startled.

“Harry.” He startled, too; looked me up and down, closed his eyes in frustration, and sighed. “Damn, Mary, really?” He asked, sounding tired. “Wh-what?!” I asked, nervously, drying my sweaty palms in the pants of my jumpsuit. I’d been nervous all day they were a choice too ‘out there’. “Where do you find the audacity to look this beautiful?!” He asked, seriously.

It took me maybe two seconds to understand this flattery, and that he wasn’t actually criticizing my fashion choices, and when I did I was washed by such a deep wave of relief I was almost angry.

“Seriously?!” I slapped my handbag playfully against his arms, rolling my eyes, and turned away to walk into the building, leaving him as well as my team to catch up. “What?! It was a compliment!” He said, hurrying after me, suppressing a chuckle. I was smiling in spite of myself. “Maybe, but your tone was very misleading.” He smiled. “I apologize about my tone, Mary. May I try again?” I blinked, slowly, grinning now, and he went on. “You look beautiful.”

His second attempt was all that it shouldn’t have been: intense, yearning, full of a double meaning only we seemed to hear.

Bashfully, I gulped. “Thank you… I wish I could say the same.” “Ouch?” He laughed, taking a step back. “It’s not your fault, coats and tails is just not flattering on anyone.” “Well, that’s it.” He took off his hat and immediately started unbuttoning his vest. “What are you doing?” I asked, laughing. “I will go naked before I let you see me in something unflattering.” I took one step closer and stopped his hands with mine. “Oh, my God.” I said, looking around. “Stop!”

The main building was guests only, no press, so we were pretty safe there. But there were still guests around.

“What? You started it.” He chuckled but, at least for now, stopped undressing himself. Someone behind him cleared his throat. “Sir, you should probably button up before we go upstairs.” Harry nodded, serious. “Of course. Thank you, Edward.” He subtly buttoned his shirt while I looked around; some people had their eyes on us, but nothing too out of ordinary. “My secretary.” He explained. “Trying to keep me from trouble is literally his job, so I try to listen to him sometimes, throw him a bone, you know how it is.” “I hope you pay him enough.” I told him, teasing. “Sounds like an impossible mission.” “Touché.” Harry giggled, the sight making my stomach flutter.

We exchanged a long look, the whisper of our smiles still holding on to our lips dreamily.  

“So, how have you been?” He asked, clasping his hands behind his back. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Good. Well. Merci.” I nodded. “You?” “Awful, thanks for asking.” He smiled, so it was tough to know if he meant it or not. “Oh?” “Nothing that we can fix, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “Should I escort you upstairs?” “Oh. Uhm. Sure.”

He led the way to the elevators, our team right behind us. With our security, we crowded one elevator with no room for anyone else. Though this was a pretty safe environment, I didn’t feel safe enough to inquire about what he meant.

“So, how’s Lourdes?” He asked, upbeat. “Pretty good.” I said, nodding. “She’s skating again.” “Nice!” He broke into such a huge smile it was hard not to smile as well. “I want to see her skating, do you have any videos?” “More than I need.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll–”

I was about to say I’d send him some, when I stopped myself.

“You have her number, right? You should ask her, trust me, she’ll be delighted. She loves showing her routines to people.” He nodded, “I will.”

Though it was a very big building, the elevator stopped on every floor, where both our security alerted people it was crowded before the doors closed again. We were headed to the last, highest floor, the Royal Enclosure, which was the best viewing point for the races. It was also highly exclusive and invite only, and a person could online invite someone else after attending for four years. Divorcées weren’t even allowed in until 1955.

So the elevator ride took a long minute, which may be what gave me the courage to surrender and lean in closer to him to ask:

“Truth or dare?” He smiled to the ground, biting his lower lip, but leaned in to me as well and whispered, “Dare.” Smiling in return, only slightly annoyed I’d have to wait to ask why he said he’d been ‘awful’, I went through my head for a good dare idea. “Let’s see….” “May I remind you we are in a very public, heavily press-present event?” He whispered, still close. “Sounds like something you should have thought of before choosing dare.” I shrugged, whispering back. “Okay… get someone in this elevator to slap you.” He leaned back. “What?!” “Go on.” “How?” “I don’t know.” “Mary… I–” He sighed, looking around. His eyes paused on every person present, my staff, his staff, the security… and then it paused on the tall, slender man who he had referred to as his secretary before. “Hey, Edward, I need a favor.” “Yes, sir?” The man replied, while I suppressed a giggle. “Slap me.” The whole group looked at them for a moment, before looking away, pretending not to be overhearing. “S-sir?” “It’s not a big deal, just slap me. It doesn’t need to be strong.” Harry insisted. “Sir, I–I don’t understand!” “It’s a long story,” Harry lied, “I’ll explain later, but I need you to slap me now. Go on, I promise I won’t mind.” I bit my lip strongly to stop myself from laughing. Edward looked truly concerned, and Harry sounded increasingly more desperate. “Harry, no!” Edward said, shaking his head.

The elevator stopped in place with a melodic ‘ding’, and Harry sighed as the others filed out before us – Edward leading the way.

“Any chance you’ll slap me?” He asked, making me laugh. “Ask me again later.” I said, walking out. “But then I’ll have already lost.” He lamented. “Well, then you’ll have to live with the defeat.” He groaned, following me to a table of drinks and appetizers. There were no cameras in this enclosure, and no one else I had to be formally introduced to. As I didn’t know anyone else, this left me free to grab a drink and something to eat.

Harry, however, waved a quick hello to a handful of people as soon as we walked into the room, but continued to follow me.

“Okay, rematch.” He started. “Give me another dare, I must redeem my honor.” “God, men… it must be so exhausting feeling you have to prove yourself constantly.” He grinned. “We both know you’re judging me for not doing a dare. Go on, give me another one.” I giggled, and sighed. “Alright, remember you insisted… I dare you to…” I thought about it deeply, looking around.

There was a couple of girls a few meters away looking at us – more particularly, at him – with jealousy and desire in their eyes. I smiled in spite of myself, feeling oddly powerful.

“To improvise a poem.” He looked so confused it made me smile again. “A poem? Like, like poetry?” “Yes.” I nodded. “Take your time.”

As I took a sip of my sparkling wine, he put his hands in his pockets, looking around. I could see his mouth silently moving as he talked quietly with himself. It was an amusing sight, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice how handsome he looked deep in thought like this.

“Okay.” He nodded, seriously, approaching.

He removed his hat, brushed his hair to the side with his hand and stood unnervingly close to me.

“You're a vision in pink, I might need a drink…” He risked a look at me, but his cheeks were reddening, so he looked away again. “And I might pass out, if you gave me a wink…” I tried to suppress a giggle, as I thought any sudden movements might dissuade him from this dare. “Every day I remember, when the leaves were ember… In blue, you breezed through… your skin, warm and tender, In all of your splendor…” he looked at me again, still pink in the cheeks, but with renowned intensity in his eyes, “Waking up with me, your legs between my knees. I woke up desperate to please, and tease, with ease…”

His eyes locked on mine, intense, he recovered his color just as I felt my cheeks heaten up. He said each word slowly now, over-enunciating double meaning into each syllable.

“And squeeze, your hills, give you chills, thrills, until… Your daisy became daffodils… Asleep and awake, three days of bliss, give and take… Slow, sweet, fast or rough. Forever wouldn't be enough.”

His eyes hovered over my face, slowly lowering towards my lips, pausing there for the longest minute as I felt breathless. To the silence, I realized it was over, and struggled to think of something teasing, light-hearted enough to say to this. How to hide the way his voice – his words – made me feel?

I bit down an embarrassed grin thinking of his words. Walking in wearing blue when the leaves were ember? That was when we met last fall. Waking up with my legs between his knees? When I ran away to his home and we slept in the same bed. ‘Squeeze your hills, give you thrills, slow, fast, or rough, forever wouldn’t be enough’? That, that was… an alternate reality that felt the more tempting the more he continued to look at me.

“I don’t want to break the moment, because I feel there’s a moment here… but that was really good, right?” He asked, sounding honestly shocked.

It made me laugh out loud.

“Oh, my God, did I… write that?” He added, looking around, seemingly astonished with himself. “Did I maybe hear this somewhere? Did I accidentally plagiarized someone?” Laughing, I held on to his arm to steady myself. “Honestly, it was very good.” I managed to say. “I know! It was incredible!” “I mean, it started just okay… but it got… really interesting in the end.” “Interesting?! I think I’m a poetry miracle!”

I laughed again; throwing my head back, I had to hold on to my hat so it stayed in place.

“I need a pen and paper to write that all down before I forget it!” he added, patting his pockets. “Oh, my God, shut up.” I begged, still laughing. “Alright, alright…” He smiled. “My turn. Truth or dare?” I sighed, “Dare.” He grinned, surprised. “Oh, wow. Okay… I dare you to…” He considered it for a few seconds, looking around the room.

Silently, he grabbed my half-drank wine glass and moved to the drinks. He picked a bottle of whisky, and poured some into my glass.

“Hey!” I protested.

He did the same with the scotch, the vodka, the mango liquor, and every other bottle in the table until my glass was almost full to the brim.

“I dare you.” He said, handing me the glass. “Are you s–? This is so unoriginal.” “Just drink it.” He grinned. I smelled the contents of the glass, which smelled oddly of citric coca cola, and took a quick sip. “Oh, my God.” I complained, trying to remind myself not to yell in disgust. “You can do better, come on.” “No, I think this is enough.” “What? You drank nothing!” “Yes, but you never said I had to drink a lot, just that I had to drink.” I shrugged. He closed his eyes, and smiled, annoyed. “Wow. Such a lawyer.” I laughed. “My turn.” “Fine. Truth.” He said, rolling his eyes. I gulped, placed the disgusting concoction in my glass back on the table, but kept the smile in my lips as I asked, “Why did you say you were awful before?” His smile faltered. “Oh. You know…” He shrugged, nonchalant. “No, Harry… I don’t.” I said, softly. He avoided my eyes, but his lips sustained a humorless, emotionless smile. He took in a long breath, and looked at me. “Do you maybe have another question?” “What? No. Harry…” I shook my head, confused. “That’s the question.” He sighed. “It’s just work.” “Work?” “Yes, Marie. Work. I have a lot to do to get Invictus ready for September…” “Okay. Is that all it is? Because your tone says differently.” Still smiling coldly, he looked around, and brushed a hand through his hair, nervously. “Speaking of work, how’s your work?” He asked. “Is royal work as an heir any different?” “Harry.” I insisted, seriously, now feeling my heart beating increasingly heavier in my chest.

Finally, something snapped. He bit his lip, avoiding my eyes, then closed his eyes, muttered ‘hallway’, and walked off without affording me a second glance.

Chilled to the bone, I waited a couple of seconds before following him out, strategically avoiding Cadie and Auguste’s worried glances from nearby.

We walked out of the enclosure to the elevator hallway. It was emptier now than when we had come in, but still had a couple of people in it. So Harry passed them towards other doors, where it was emptier.

He stopped by a window, hands in his pocket, and heaved a sigh, brows creased, eyes pained. My heart ached just to watch him.

“Look, I–” He started, avoiding my eyes still. “I…” He laughed, humorless still. “Harry,” I tried, softly, “you’re worrying me.”

He closed his eyes, painfully. After a couple of seconds he opened them and stared right into mine. When our blues connected, I felt again that old chill down my spine; that feeling of being seen for all I was, that chill of knowing there was a lot being said, even if we weren’t speaking.

“Work is hard, yes, but–” He licked his lips, pausing. “I can handle it. What makes it harder, though, is that I can’t go very long without thinking about you.” I gulped. “W-what?” He smiled, a little more honestly now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mary. I know that sucks to hear. I just…” He sighed, heavily, and took a step closer to me. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Feeling my stomach do a cartwheel inside, I gulped. “I… W-what?!” His smile grew now, amused. “I look around my house, and all I can think is I miss having you there. I miss waking up with you, cooking with you, talking with you all day long...” He took another step closer, now in a way where his smell was all I could breathe; still the same citric L'Occitane smell I could never forget. “I think about you every time I open my bathroom cabinet and see the toothbrush you forgot.” He shrugged. “It’s pathetic. And even now as I say it, I know it’s pointless. I know just looking at you that it’s a lost cause. And it’s not your fault, even if sometimes I wish it were. It might be easier if I had a reason to be angry at you… But you didn’t ask for this. Neither did I. I just…” he shrugged. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” I sighed, breathless. “Harry. I…” “I know.” He nodded, staring at the ground. “I understand better than most. You have a duty. You have rules to follow and a huge number of people around ready to remind you why this would be a terrible idea, and I get it. I have the same. Lower stakes, maybe, but I do, and I hate it.” He smiled, in a sad, desperate way; eyes full of yearning as they looked at me. “The truth is I think about that kiss every day.” He whispered, gently. “The truth is I think about that date we never had every day, and about everything that could have been different… The truth…” He sighed, longingly. “The truth is I think I’m falling in love with you.”

My mind was both completely blank and going a thousand miles an hour. I felt my hands… shaken. My legs felt weak. I thought of Louis’ funeral again, of trying to kiss him at the worst of times, of how much it hurt when he pulled away, of when he told he didn’t want to be something I might regret.

I remembered sleeping with Chris right after, getting back together with him without even realizing it. Of the proposal and the yelling and the months of headlines about it.

If my brother was still here, Harry and I might have been just a complicated, unique love story. But he wasn’t, and because of that everything was such a mess. I was such a mess.

And yet, here he was: loving me anyway. In spite of it all. What was the universe thinking?

“Maggie?”

My fragile, already shaken up heart went cold. I looked back to find…

“Christopher?

--- ---- ---

Royal Ascot Outfit

[A/N: I know what you’re thinking, ‘how dare you not post for 2 weeks and then leave us with a cliff hanger????’. Guys, I’m SORRY! In my defence, 2020 was a hell of a year, I had to move, the holidays were a lot, I had a guest over, and I GOT A DOG! So...........a lot has happened! But things should calm down now, so I promise to try my hardest so this doesnt happen again! Spoilers: the story is going into its next phase! Secret-relationship-angst kind of next phase. But anyway, enough about me... how have YOU been? Tell me all about it, oh and also your thoughts on the chapter? hopes for the next ones? notes? criticisms? I’ll take it all! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND STICKING WITH ME AND FOR YOUR PATIENCE! PS: Lola, my fur child, is a 2 years old rescue, loves munching ice and guilting me into petting her instead of writing/working. I also accidentally scard her out of going to the bathroom where shes supposed to so now I’m slowly moving a pet-mat through the apartment back there. Tips? LOVE YOU HAVE A GOOD WEEK! BYE!

PS 2: I PROMISE I’LL COMPRISE ALL THE CHAPTERS INTO A MASTERPOST LIKE ONE OF YOU ASKED ME TO, I JUST NEED TO FIND THE TIME BUT I WILL! Thanks for the suggestion <3 ]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 4, Section 2

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 4: The Pursued Cleric (con’t)

Serafew was a bustling town on the border between Renais and Grado.

The two nations had been allies since long ago, and Serafew had always been a symbol of that friendship. The citizens of both countries lived there with no division between them, and they were able to enjoy many benefits with each other, like trading goods freely.

Yet now, those stories were all in the past. Serafew was now under the Grado Army's control.

Eirika and the others followed a road that was just outside of town, and planned their next strategy.

When they received the report from their reconnaissance team, Seth explained to Eirika, "If we're lucky, their guard will not be very tight. A Grado general stopped here all by themself, but has already left and started moving towards a fort to the northwest."

"A general…?"

Eirika remembered her meeting with Selena in the small mountain village, and it raised her hopes. If Selena was close by, then she wanted to try meeting her again.

"Yes, a man named Glen. He rides a dragon, and rumor has it that he is very strong."

"Glen… Really? He's here?"

Eirika remembered that name. It was only once, but they had met before.

When the continent was still at peace, she'd visited the capital city of Grado together with Ephraim. General Glen was a soldier that Prince Leon trusted very much. He was still young, yet already very dignified, and Eirika was impressed but not surprised that he'd become a general of the empire's large army at such a young age.

"General Glen has already left, and the security within the town is light. When the royal palace of Renais fell, they likely considered guarding this area to be of low importance. We'll be able to put up a good fight at our current strength."

Eirika looked again at the wall around Serafew in front of them.

"It looks like it would be unlikely for us to be spotted from the west gate. Let's enter from there."

They followed Seth's plan and went around to the west side.

As they'd predicted, the security there was indeed light. They hid their weapons and dressed as merchants. Just by doing that alone, the guards said "You may pass," and waved them through as if it was an inconvenience to do so.

"That was so easy that I'm disappointed!" Franz whispered.

At that same time, a man who'd appeared from around a corner approached them.

Eirika and the others were nervous, but the man said in a weary tone, "Excuse me, there's something I'd like to ask you."

He had the face of an intellectual, and was very tall. 

"What is it?" Eirika responded.

"I'm looking for someone. Have you seen a young girl with indigo blue hair?"

"Unfortunately, no…"

The man looked discouraged. He bowed his head to say "Sorry for bothering you," then left.

'The little girl must have gotten lost. Was he her father? Ever since public order started to worsen here, missing children have probably been a concern.' He must have been worried sick. Eirika felt pity for him.

'Should I break some of the soldiers off from the group to help him look for her?' She began to consider, but suddenly, she heard a loud noise come from in front of them.

"After her! Don't let her get away!" Yelled a gruff voice that came along with footsteps that were getting louder and louder.

‘What was that?’ Eirika wondered, frozen in place, when she heard someone make a threat.

"Turn yourself in, traitor!"

Then, she heard a higher-pitched, feminine-sounding voice. She couldn't make out exactly what the woman said, but  understood that she was begging desperately for something. 

A rough man's voice echoed through the air again, cutting the woman off.

"Silence! If you are going to beg for forgiveness, then do it before His Majesty! I was told that if you resist, then I may execute you on the spot!"

It looked like a fight was about to break out. Even without Eirika's orders, everyone immediately unsheathed their hidden weapons.

Eirika rushed ahead with the front line. The place where all the noise was coming from was a plaza atop a staircase.

A woman with a hood covering her hair had fallen over. Judging by her clothing, she was likely a cleric serving the gods. Surrounding her were Grado soldiers.

Though she didn't know any details about what was happening, she could never allow a large group of men to surround a lone woman and try to hurt her. She probably hadn't intended to cause a commotion, but in a circumstance like this one, there was no avoiding it.

When Eirika tried to rush over to her, the cleric stood up in one quick movement.

She took advantage of the men having let their guards down, and ran over to Eirika's army.

 "Are you alright?" Eirika shielded the cleric and asked.

Her feet gave out in front of Eirika, and she collapsed. "Wh… Who are you…?"

"I am a citizen of Renais. What's going on? Why are you being chased by the Grado Army?"

"You're from Renais…? Ah…!" The girl quickly put her hands together in front of her chest, showing her thankfulness to the gods. "There's something I want to tell you! Grado is…!"

However, they couldn't listen to the details at the moment. The Grado Army was coming. Eirika's army all readied themselves for battle.

The cleric quickly whispered to Eirika, "My name is Natasha. I cannot fight, but I am knowledgeable in healing magic."

"Then will you please take care of the wounded from the rear line?"

"Yes. But, before that… I want to try talking to the Grado soldiers."

"Huh…?" Eirika whirled around in surprise. 

Natasha looked serious, and was watching the soldiers closing in on them.

"But they're…"

"Trying to capture me. I know. However, there is something I must tell them no matter what. If things continue on as they are now, then something terrible will happen…"

Each and every word she spoke was uttered with strong determination.

Whatever she wanted to say, it sounded serious. All Eirika’s army could do was protect her as she searched for someone who looked like they would listen to her.

It was an extremely difficult task, but Eirika had made up her mind to see it through. “Then we will be your guard. Please do not leave our sides.”

“Thank you!!”

The battle began. The Grado soldiers immediately started calling out for help, and soldiers rushed in from all four directions to provide backup.

This battle set within narrow city streets was completely different from any they’d fought before. Not only was it very difficult to use long weapons, but the horses’ and pegasi's movements were also limited.

And to make matters worse, although the area was in ruins, it was still where many local citizens made their living. They wanted to keep the damage done to the buildings at a minimum, and had to be careful at all times not to get the common people who had yet to run away involved.

While fighting this grueling battle in conditions that they were not used to, Eirika’s army slew the enemies coming at them.

Both sides fought with the intent to kill each other. It seemed nearly impossible that Natasha would find anyone that she could talk to.

Among the enemy army was one especially strong man. And not only was he strong, but he also had long, fiery red hair, and wore stylish clothing that looked nothing like what the other soldiers had on, making him stand out all the more. This made it clear that he was not a formal soldier, but a mercenary working for money.

His swordplay was, for lack of a better word, whimsical. But though he would crack an occasional joke and move as if he was playing, he always hit his target. His ability to perfectly hit his target's weak points was unparalleled. The other Grado soldiers weren’t very tough, but that one mercenary toyed with Eirika's army and made the battle difficult for them.

The mercenary lightly dodged the opponent attacking him, then landed in front of Eirika as if he was floating. 

Eirika tightened her grip around her sword and shielded Natasha standing behind her.

“Do my eyes deceive me? What a beautiful swordfighter I see over there!” The mercenary said teasingly, then turned towards Eirika and swung his sword playfully.

“I’m so jealous. The Grado Army is full of filthy men. There’s not a person with taste to be found... Whoops!” He repealed Eirika’s sword with a laugh, as if he was playing a game. “You’re pretty good, aren’t you! But you still have a long way to go. Your left side is wide open.”

After they clashed swords a few more times, Eirika realized the difference in their power.

‘He’s too strong. I’m no match for him. I can’t win. He will kill me.’ She shrank back in fear.

Natasha jumped out from behind Eirika in desperation.

“Natasha…!” Eirika shrieked. 

There was no way she planned to talk to this mercenary, was there? It was no use. Eirika couldn’t imagine there was a way such a person, who treated everything as if it were a game, would lend an ear to the cleric’s serious story.

The mercenary also appeared to be completely dumbfounded. He drew his sword back and muttered “Whoa, that's dangerous!”

“Do you remember me? We crossed paths while I was running earlier…”

He looked at Natasha and furrowed his brow, then nodded. “Yeah, you’re that cleric! Wait, are you the traitor!?”

“Were you hired to keep me quiet?"

"I mean… I was told that if I got rid of you, I'd receive a huge reward. That's just how the mercenary trade works, so no hard feelings."

"I do not care about what happens to me. But I want to tell you this. The current situation within the Grado Empire is not normal. If the other countries are not warned about this danger, then all light across the continent will vanish."

He looked down at Natasha apathetically. He seemed to have lost all killing intent, as his word was now drooping at his side.

However, that did not calm Eirika.

This opponent was a mercenary, meaning he was a member of a parasitic group in society who would take on any job for money, no matter how much it dirtied their hands. It was too optimistic to commit to persuading him.

"...You know, I don't care at all about Grado or the continent. No matter what you have to say, it's all the same to me."

Natasha's expression changed to one of complete determination. 

The man smirked, then continued speaking. "Although I'd hate to see a beauty like you be done in by these Grado barbarians. Say, do you like to gamble?"

"Huh?" Natasha stared at him in confusion.

The man reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small object.

"There's nothing I love more in life. ...Though I haven't a shred of luck. I always lose." The man flicked the object he'd taken out into the air with a clink.

It flipped over and over as it flew in the air, then landed back in his hand, revealing that it was a gold coin. "Let's bet on it! If you win, I will believe you."

"What…? You want me to gamble…?"

"All you need to do is choose heads or tails. So, which one am I holding?"

"...Heads… No, tails…" Natasha said weakly. 

The mercenary's eyes lit up. 

"Alright then, if it's tails, you win. If it's heads, then I win. The anticipation in this moment is incredible, and I can't stop chasing it. Know what I mean?"

Neither Natasha nor Eirika felt any anticipation whatsoever, rather, they felt as if their hearts would jump out of their chests. 

Natasha put her hands together and whispered, "Please, gods, please…"

The mercenary slowly opened up his hand. Natasha swallowed and asked, "Which is it?" 

The mercenary sounded full of himself as he answered, "The result is… tails. Like I said, I'm not lucky at all! Or wait, maybe I am? I do get to become allies with a beautiful woman like you."

"Really? You'll really join us!?"

"Yeah. If you go against a loss, then you'll upset lady luck, and you'll never win again."

Eirika couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Did a person who would leave something so important to a coin flip really exist? It was taboo for a mercenary to betray their contract. If he was captured by Grado, then he may even be executed.

But the man was entirely serious.

"The name's Joshua. Nice to meet ya. Shall we start by cleaning up around here?"

He once again took a fighting stance, returned to his usual whimsical self, then threw himself right into the thick of the battlefield. The only difference was that this time, his opponent was the Grado Army.

"Damn you, mercenary! Are you betraying us!?" Those on Grado's side noticed tha Joshua was coming towards them, and started shaking.

"Yeah, sorry about that." He said with a laugh before unleashing an attack that was frightening in both accuracy and speed.

The tide of battle reversed completely. Eirika's struggling army took back their momentum. The Grado Army, enraged that they were losing, stampeded towards Eirika's army as if they wished to bring about their own ends.

After the battle among the city streets was over, Eirika and Seth moved over towards the rear support group to check up on Natasha, as once she'd finished talking to Joshua, she'd retreated to the rear line to heal the injured.

Moulder stood up from among the wounded and approached Eirika.

When Eirika called out to him and said, "Thank you for your hard work," he laughed.

"This battle was a really tough one. Our army has a lot of injured as well."

"Oh, really…?

"But please feel at ease. They are healing very well. I might not be able to handle this much work all by myself, but the beautiful cleric is working with me."

When Eirika followed Moulder's line of sight, it led her to Natasha, waving her staff as she talked to the injured. They looked not in pain, but happy as they circled around her.

"As you can see, she's very popular. Some of the injured even ran away when I tried to heal them. They said they didn't want me, and asked her to examine them. I couldn't agree to such selfish requests, and when I forcefully healed them, they complained that they missed their chance. My my, how deplorable…"

Eirika couldn't help but laugh at Moulder's disappointment. She was worried that the rough soldiers might scare Natasha, but if that was what was actually happening, then she would be okay.

Natasha finally saw Eirika and the others and walked up to them. The worried expression she'd had on her face during battle was gone, and she was now smiling calmly. "Thank you. How can I ever express my thanks to you?"

"Are you from the Grado Empire?" Seth asked.

Natasha nodded. "I was a helper at a church within the empire."

"Then why are you being chased by Grado soldiers? Can you tell us what's going on?"

Natasha's smile vanished. It seemed that she was holding in something very serious.

She looked away from them and began to speak. "...It happened a few days ago. The bishop who served as my teacher was suddenly captured and executed. He was accused of the crime of treason… but he was framed. The emperor killed him. To silence him."

The harsh words that Natasha had managed to say shocked Eirika. 

Seth also looked surprised, and responded, "To silence him?"

"Yes. Right before he died, he said this to me: 'The emperor is trying to destroy the Sacred Stones.'"

Eirika couldn't believe her ears.

Until she'd heard this, she'd thought that perhaps Natasha had happened to learn something by chance, and that's why she was being pursued. But this secret she'd told them was no such simple matter.

The Sacred Stones were known to all as the stones in which the Demon King was sealed, saving the world from his reign of terror long ago.

There were five in total, and to this very day, one was located in each of the five major nations of the continent, and were considered the most valuable treasures in all the land.

Renais of course was among the nations that housed one of the Sacred Stones. The shrine in which it was placed was guarded as the central location of their religion. The four remaining stones should each be in Grado, Frelia, Jehanna, and Rausten.

Word had it that the Grado Empire was already trying to completely destroy their stone, so the chance that they'd already destroyed it was high. And during the invasion of Renais they had likely destroyed Renais' stone as well...

"Why would the emperor do such a thing?"

Natasha shook her head sadly at Seth's question.

"I do not know. His Majesty has always been.  known for his warmth and wisdom. He is loved by both those who serve him and the people. However, ever since that day, he's been so cold that it's like he's another person… and then he devised a terrifying plan to destroy the Sacred Stones. That is what the bishop told me. He also told me that we must tell the other nations that house the Sacred Stones, for if we do not put all our strength into protecting the stones, then something terrible will happen… I tried to flee the country secretly, but the soldiers found me and started chasing me."

"So that's what's been happening…" Eirika looked at Seth.

He was staring down at Natasha, as if he was trying to see through her, with a stern look on his face. 

"What do you think, Seth?"

"We cannot accept the word of someone from Grado without question. However, if what she says is true, then we cannot ignore it."

"Yes… it is a very serious matter. We must do whatever we can to stop it…" Eirika remembered her bad feeling.

The enemies waiting for them upon their path were not just Grado soldiers. The terrifying shadow of something much bigger was looming over them. Though they did not currently know what it was, right now, all they could do was continue forward.

     hey THOTS , it’s lola ! as promised , here’s giuliana , aka gi , aka gbaby , aka honor roll horse girl — we stan ! i have the shortest attention span in the world , so please hit me up on discord to plot at 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖙#3103 ! you can also react to this with a ♡ and i’ll hit you up !

ʻ   /   let  me  introduce  you  to  a  prized  member  of  our   equestrian team & honors society   ,   giuliana ‘ g ’ clemonte .  this   cisfemale  scorpio   has  been  a  student  at  our  institution for   eleven years  and  is  currently  a  twenty-one year  old   junior .   through  the  halls ,   she  has   always  reminded  me  of   natasha liu bordizzo  ,   but  there  is  always  more  than  meets  the  eye ,   like  the  fact  that  she’s been selling the stock her father put aside for her to a business rival .  coral  cape  has  made  their  future  just  as  bright  as  their  smile ,   i  assure  you .  ʼ     (  muse three ,  lola ,  twenty-one ,  est ,  she / her   )

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

full name : giuliana mae clemonte. nicknames : gi , giu , lia , liana , gigi , jujubee , gbaby. age : twenty-one. date of birth : november 14 , 1998. place of birth : rome , italy. sun sign : scorpio. gender : cisgender female. pronouns : she / her / hers. passports : american , italian , chinese. languages : english , italian , chinese. education : st . stephen’s school in rome ( until age ten ) and cape coral international school. major : sociology ( currently pre-law ). clubs : equestrian team , honor society.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

     giuliana’s a daugher of china and italy , with roots tracing back to BLUE BLOOD on either side. her mother’s side traces back through generations of businesspeople and entrepreneurs , who built china’s economy. her father’s side traces back through generations of engineers and architects , who built many of the major cities of italy. her golden pedigree came with a certain amount of EXPECTATIONS , which her tiger parents were clear about with her from a young age. she was born in rome , and instantly sent off to the st . stephen’s boarding school when it came time for her to begin her schooling.

     meanwhile , business began booming in the united states for both sides of the clemonte clan , who made the move over to portland , leaving behind their daughter to finish her studies. at age ten , giuliana finally reunited with her parents and was THRUST into a wildly different school system. the change was enough to make the girl’s head spin , all while instilling in her adaptability and a love for OBSERVING others’ facial expressions , mannerisms and their general attitude around others. it’s something she’s kept to this day. 

     though wealth has played a large part in her upbringing and the environment she’s grown up in , giuliana’s grown quite DISILLUSIONED of it. she’s seen the damage her parents and their businesses have left in their wake ( the collapse of the new residence building being one of them ! ) and doesn’t quite understand how they’re able to just throw money at the problem and walk away. as her secret suggests , she’s slowly but surely inching away from what her family has built , and hopes her career will be enough to sustain her once she spits out the silver spoon that was put in her mouth when she was born.

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇

𝐢. 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

TRACK 01 ▶ PANG by CAROLINE POLACHEK.

there's a look in your eyes when you're hungry for me it's a beautiful knife cutting right where the fear should be     

     this one’s a direct reference to giuliana and axel’s relationship. though their modus operandi is being ON AND OFF , a relationship peppered by petty fights , tears and short-lived breaks , no part of giuliana is truly ready to let axel go. their mental connection , their shared interests , their morals and values , their sex life — it’s all too good for her to let go of. this particular song really gives a sense of how fiercely she feels for him , how deeply he’s engrained in her being.

TRACK 02 ▶ ORDINARY SUPERSTAR by RINA SAWAYAMA.

because i'm just an ordinary superstar so far but always hanging where you are

     this one pertains to giuliana’s relationship with status , money and the lineage she was born into. though her last name opens doors , gets her a certain level of eduction and leads to a fair few people turning their heads or craning their necks , it’s something she still very much WRESTLES with. she’s obviously thankful for the immense privilege her wealth and background offer her on a regular basis ( hello ?! who wouldn’t ? ), but the scrutiny and the fabricated kindness and friendships that come from it are things she could very well do without.

TRACK 03 ▶ NAVY BLUE by CHARLOTTE LAWRENCE.

we got delusions of a grand oblivion we're only happy when we're higher than the sun

     this one ties more into the stereotypical aspects of being tied to wealth. the partying , the smoking , the drinking , the drugs — the small things that make the lives of the children at cape coral a little smoother. giuliana’s not particularly attracted to drugs , loud music , velvet ropes and faded neon signs , but has been known to partake occasionally , when everything becomes a little too intense to deal with and her brain needs a short BREAK from overthinking and overanalyzing.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 

     like the true OBSERVER  she is , giuliana’s always been a social chameleon. her personality ebbs and flows based on the company she keeps , her eyes always careful to pick up on others’ emotions and body language. it’s how she’s been able to read past what her parents have told her over the years. in an environment where labels are quickly affixed , it’s what has kept her ahead of the curve and has allowed for her classmates , friends and anyone else in her orbit to be kept guessing.

     this , in turn , has led to one label sticking ( on and off , truth be told ): the MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL. after all , who wouldn’t want to be , hang around or date the mysteriously quiet girl with the golden pedigree and platinum family tree ? the one who always seems to have the most eccentric fun fact to recount during classroom ice-breakers , the one whose holiday destinations rival all others’ , the one no one can seem to ever get an accurate read on. part of her loves to have fun with the attention and whispers that come with this label , but another ( truthfully , larger ) part is conflicted with what this means for her and what that makes her come across as.

     ultimately though , if there’s anything anyone should know about giuliana clemonte , it’s that she’s a SEEKER and is driven by a need to know and understand the world and people around her. her actions , though not always meant to generate good , are always guided by her moral compass. she comes from a blue blood family and was given a silver spoon at a young age , but very much does not fit in the cookie cutter rich kid stereotype. she’s quick to point out the wasteful ways in which her family and those around her spend , and tries to keep her life as normal as she can ( though things like art , expensive wine , quality italian leather goods and lush fabrics are all things she’s thankful her lifestyle allows her to have ). 

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

SOME FUN FACTS !

though her name doesn’t make it all that obvious , giuliana is of CHINESE-ITALIAN descent ( the former on her mother’s side and the latter on her father’s side )

she’s a very fast reader , and absorbs an impressive amount of the information she reads — if you’ve watched suits , she’s like michael ross : everything she understands , she remembers forever

her luxury vices are italian leather shoes , earrings , art and good food ( cars ? private jets ? clothes ? expensive hair and makeup artists ? useless spends in her eyes )

she collects all of the letters she’s ever received and will spend evenings spreading them out on her bedroom floor and re-reading them quietly ( chocolate readily available or glass of wine in hand ) when she needs to re-center herself

she’s gotten many , many nicknames over the years ( gi , giu , lia , liana , gigi , jujubee , to cite a few ) but true friends know to call her gi

     you can find a ( work in progress , because i’m a perfectionist about these ) pinterest board for giuliana HERE !

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

     give me STRONG FEMALE FRIENDSHIPS that are basically platonic soulmate relationships , with comfort and trust so strong that nothing could ever break them apart ( carla and lu , but without the murder and arguments ? ) 

     give me a SQUAD with late night wine drinking , nights spent out on beaches skinny dipping and laughing until it hurts , large group hugs when things aren’t so good , promises to always have each others’ backs and inside jokes that no one else will ever understand. 

     give me an UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP with a boy she was convinced she hated , but now realizes she’s so similar too ( they’re both shitty , and it’s fine ! ) and will insult to cope. 

     give me ONE NIGHT STANDS and HOOKUPS she uses to attempt to get over axel , with heated kisses in stairwells and hallways and labored breaths in semi-public places.

     give me ANGRY SCHOLARSHIP KIDS who can’t stand her connection to the collapse of a building and with whom she’ll clash , all while knowing that they’re right and that her family should pay the price of their actions.

     give me someone gi SMOKES WITH on the roof of her home , to get away from it all. she has her head on their shoulder and smoke dancing out of her mouth , counting down the minutes until she feels light enough to start pouring her soul out.

     give me CHILDHOOD FRIENDSHIPS with people who first saw baby gi , fresh out of italy , with a strong accent and doe-eyed confusion over schedules , classroom locations and the like. they’ve stuck by each other for years , and maybe knowing each other that well has been good or maybe it’s dangerous that they know so much.

   give me ANYTHING YOU WANT ! i honestly love in-depth , thought-out plots and would love , love , love to brainstorm and think through things with all of you !

Dear (people listed below)

@miss-mary-grace

You pretended to be my friend just so that you could “sleep your way to the top”. You’re only friends with that certain group now because of me. I never got any thanks, except just some “I know what I’m saying will hurt your feelings” Well, bitch, if you KNOW, then that just shows your colors. Again, you KNEW--you said YOU KNEW--, yet you still did it because YOU KNEW. You didn’t stab me in the back. You stabbed me in the front while you were smiling and pretending to be the “innocent soul” that you have everyone believing you are.

I was Miru’s sister first, by the way. We even endearingly called each other “hermana” just as such. So, sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, you weren’t her first “sister”. 

If I could go back in time, I would refrain from commenting on your poor excuse for art—talking about how “cute it is”—, and completely disregard you as a person, much less an artist. You only advanced and grew as an artist BECAUE OF ME. And I, unfortunately, got to see you true colors when you decided to indirectly admit that you were using me. 

Now, I’m used to people pretending to be my friend. But this was the first time someone had done so just so that they can get to where they are in life now.

So, just remember... You’re only Nova’s “little sister” because of me. You’re only friends with all of them because of me. You’re only where you are now because of me.

~~~

@zorakschicken / @zoraksrambles

Fuck you.

During the entire year where you had family member after family member (and your dog) die, I would drop messages here and there checking in on you. I didn’t bother you with messages every single day, like I’m sure you like to think (because “Big Bad Saki/Kura” is constantly and daily harassing people, apparently -__- ). Yeah, I vented to you now and then, but, compared to the times where I sent messages of support to you... those spurts of venting were SMALL in comparison. But, obviously, me venting was just oh so much more outrageous than the supportive messages that heavily outweighed everything.

“I won’t block you. I just think we need to take a break.” That was what you said before we agreed to take a break. And what happened? YOU FUCKING LIED! You blocked me on every single social media outlet that we share. Now, I don’t have a problem with being blocked--I could honestly care less if I got blocked--; what I’m pissed about is that you LIED ABOUT IT. Now, I blocked you first, because, for half a month after our agreement to “take a break”, you would snoop around on my dA (I track IPs, and have your name listed as such every time you pop by, so I know it’s you). It was really creepy and sus af, so I very briefly blocked you because “if you want to take a break from being friends, why tf are you snooping around...? >A>;;” So, you could back off. And then what? You block me for no reason? I didn’t fucking snoop around on you, like you did to me. WTF, dude...

And another thing that always bugged me... you Commissioning Nova. yeah, she’s your friend--but SO WAS I (at the time, at least). And you even mentioned to me how interested you were in my commissions, which were marginally cheaper than hers. So, for someone going through “financial issues”, you certainly are a hypocrite. Not to mention... it shows who you really saw as a “friend”, and our friendship meant nothing.

“Saki is always so negative. I can’t handle such negativity. It’s toxic.” You have an entire blog dedicated to hating some version of a series. What’s your excuse? Nothing but a double standard, if you ask me. Imagine being so high on your horse that you dedicate your time to something that upsets you. (That’s not me being hypocritical. That’s me saying “Hey kettle. You’re black just like me.”

You have schizophrenia. So what? I have Borderline Personality Disorder, but you don’t seeing me play that card as an excuse for my fucking behavior. I never have used any mental illness to excuse my behavior, which, let’s be real here--I’m fully aware of my negative track record, but not once did I play the “mental illness” card. I’ll use it to explain my behavior, yes, and emphasize that that’s the main reason why I’m Public Enemy Number 1 in the FMA Fandom and the reason why everyone left. But, I don’t use my mental illness like some “Get Out of Jail Free Card”, or to make people pity me or anything.

You may think that me making this call out post is the worst thing I could have done to you, but I could have done much worse. Remember: We shared phone numbers. I promptly deleted yours after we agreed to “take a break”, because I’m not that type of person to do shady shit with people’s personal information, unless it’s 100% necessary. 

At the end of the day all I can say is this: Fuck you, you lying ass two-faced piece of shit.

~~~

@novanoah & @mari-m-rose 

Despite what you may think... I do have screenshots. Or, “Proofs” as you like to call them (because “proofs” is totally a word, and not the incorrect use of “proof”... -_- ). The most recent screenshot is of Nova in 2017 committing libel against my friend with a one-sided no-”proofs”-used-to-back-up-her-claim post on Tumblr just to use her mob mentality and further show that she’s the type to use her popularity against people who are smaller than her. (Those “proofs” I have, by the way, and can show how full of shit she is).

And, it still disgusts me to this day that you are “happy” that I was told to kill myself. Are you kidding me? And here I thought I was the one that was fucked up in the head, and all I’ve ever done to all of you was stupid petty shit. To be “happy” that a person you don’t like is told (by numerous people) to kill themselves though...? What the hell is wrong with you? In that case, I’m sure you were crossing your fingers and praying for my death when I was diagnosed with cancer--only to have your little celebration party canceled when it wasn’t a severe type. But, I’m sure you got all ecstatic afterwards when the YouTube Ranters went out of their way to find my mailing address for the sole purpose of “Making [me] so stressed out that [my] cancer comes back and kills [me].” By your logic, you should be in absolute euphoria from that -__-

Sorry to disappoint you all, but the harassing, petty, little twat that bothered you all and gave you a hard time for a decade to the point she made you all (and every other single person) leave the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom is, unfortunately, hard to get rid of.

Speaking of Nova committing libel... let me just say that your little fanbrat Retreat coming after me last year wasn’t unnoticed. I knew it was sketchy af the moment they first appeared—it was no different than Cheery’s fanbrats Vixx_Der coming after me on Twitter for no reason and completely out of the blue just a month prior. So... Nice try at attempting to “give [me] a taste of my own medicine”. Committing borderline Tortious Interference... yeah, okay. That’s totally not something I could sue for. If not--defamation (which, had I known was a suable offense at the time, I would have totally done against Mayou back in 2016). 

And, like I mentioned in Mary’s little snippet up above... she’s only your friend and “little sister” because of me, so you’re fucking welcome. And, if it turns out that she’s using you the way she used me... I will laugh my ass off.

Above all else, and most importantly, my view of you both and the rest of the FMA OC Matriach is, has been, and always will be the same. I made a vow to “knock [you all] off your throne(s).” And I still plan to keep that promise. Because people like you shouldn’t be using that “I have a big number of subscribers/followers/watchers on my page, which makes me better than you~” mentality like you all have been. You’re all--every single one of you--are nothing more than HUMAN BEINGS. You’re not better than anyone one else, and you never will be. Guess what, snowflakes? Outside of your little cyberspace “safe place”, you have no power. Stop acting like you’re better than everyone else, especially to KIDS who are HALF YOUR AGE, and you think it’s right to make some stupid tumblr post (that has no evidence backing up your claim, and can be considered defamation, if not libel) painting that CHILD as an “evil person” and to order everyone to block them just because they said something you didn’t like. “I respect people who have different opinions than me” is the most obvious lie you have ever told. You’re nearly 30-years-old. Act like it and grow up. Stop bullying kids by abusing your power. You’re a HUMAN, just like the rest of us.

~~~

@mayounnaise / @sharkynnaise

Don’t know if you have a tumblr on here or not, but I couldn’t care less at this point. Let me go on the record of saying this:

Commit defamation against me one more time. Commit Tortious Interference like you did with (commissioner, who I won’t mention) again one more time. I dare you.

I WILL sue your ass, knowing what I do now--that what you did is a suable offense.

~~~

@miru-p 

I could say some pretty fucked up things right now, but I’m not that terrible of a person. I mean, I am a terrible person, but I’m not terrible enough to say fucked up things like: “Your family member deserved to live, and both of your positions should have been swapped over the holidays during that time. I’m sure your family member was a much better person than you.”

So, I’ll just simply say this: Vete a tomar por culo.

~~~

@hitantenshi

You are one of the most hopelessly optimistic people I know. The fact that you believe that people can change for the better is just absolutely sad. I mean, hello, have you seen my track record? I’m the bright and shining example and living embodiment of the reason why people don’t change. No matter how badly they want to. And if it’s because of a mental disorder, well, it sucks, because that diagnosis came too late and the damage was already done.

So, you’re all going to have to deal with this monster while I’m still around.

~~~

And to make it clear to every other single person reading this:

I’m not excusing what I did in the past, nor am I trying to make any excuses. I’m fully aware of the things that I did. However, that doesn’t mean that fakers should get some “get out of jail free card” and get away with it just because “they’re popular” or “friends with popular people”.

I’m fully aware of what I am. And, I’m fully aware that I’m hated because I’m a narcissistic, selfish, heartless, backstabbing, toxic, indifferent annoyance, harassing, ungrateful, apathetic, hurtful, manipulative, bullying, dramatic, sensitive, arrogant, petty, spiteful, over dramatic, drama whore, lying, shady, sociopathic bitch.

I’d constantly tell myself and others that “I’m changing” or “I’ve changed”, when really... I was just lying to them—and to myself—to make myself feel better. Always running away from some imaginary monster, and trying to be the perfect innocent souls that could do no harm. For a long time, I had actually believed that; fooling myself as much as I did everyone else.

Just want to make that perfectly clear. I’m not making excuses or using my mental disorder as an excuse or whatever. I just feel like I have to keep repeating myself all the time when it comes to stuff like this -__- (especially when people tell me otherwise).

mend

warning: chapter 115 manga spoilers ahead! i wrote this really fast and gave it to a sleepy beta so i hope you like it!

Eren lost sight of Pieck and Reiner, moving through the crumbling cityscape. Still no sign of Porco. Damnit! They were running out of time. They needed the other shifters for the plan to work.

The rumbling. Eren could sense that the time was drawing near. The coordinate paths ran crooked through their lives. Thousands of decisions and each time he made one, the light to the other choice faded and dimmed. He could only hope he had made the right one. Soon he was approaching the time where all paths met, where all paths ended.

They weren’t here. He must have gone in the wrong direction. His titan was running out of steam. He entered an open space and paused.

This was the old Shiganshina town square. This was where they held the spring festival every year. Where his parents married. Where he had his first fight. Where he danced standing on his mother’s shoes. He left his titan. The air was cool on his face and he tilted his head to the fading sun. People had begun reclaiming the previously abandoned city. The effort was slow going. New panes of glass hung in the windows. New roof tiles with their clay not yet faded or weathered by sun dotted the view. Fresh paint on the window panes brought back the memory of Eren earning a little extra coin by slapping fresh paint on a neighbor’s house. Someone had even started an herb garden in the house on the corner from Hannes’ old home.

Now, of course, the current inhabitants had been evacuated by what they were now calling the Jaegerists. Eren hated the moniker, but he needed the men.

Soon, he thought, closing his eyes. He just needed to keep pushing through. Keep moving forward.

A glint off of one of the new window panes flashed in his eyes. Eren bit deep into his hand, reaching for the power of the Warhammer Titan as he did so, blocking the blow with a titan forearm hardened by shards of crystal. His opponent struck, the blades dragging then glancing off. There was a small spinning blur in Eren’s peripheral vision and then it was snaking around his legs, aiming for his Achilles heel, the backs of his knees. Too powerful and too fast for Eren to harden each point before it struck.

Levi. He’s alive?

The soaring feeling in Eren’s breast was quickly replaced with panic as he caught the briefest sight of Levi’s steely grey eyes.

“Oh fuck he’s going to kill me,” Eren guessed as Levi went for Eren’s neck.

Eren let him cut the nape, he didn’t care, he was hidden beneath the titan encased in hardened crystal just like the previous owner of the Warhammer Titan, hidden from view under the base of the foot. Levi kept slicing Eren’s titan form, carving him out. All the flesh and sinew fell about the square and curled into hissing steam. Panting, Levi kicked through the rubble, looking for Eren, looking to see what he had missed. Eren raised his crystalline form in front of him, looking a great deal like Annie in her perpetual slumber.

Levi didn’t hesitate, he fitted one of the thunder spears.

“Don’t do that,” Eren muttered to himself. “You’re going to give away your position.”

Levi seemed to be having second thoughts as well, looking back over his shoulder to the rooftops, expecting a possible ambush. Seeing no one coming, he readied to charge with two spears.

“Oh come on! Captain!” Eren shouted. He knew Levi was angry with him and didn’t blame him, but this wasn’t a good plan.

Levi paused.

“Can you hear me?” Eren asked.

Levi shook his head and turned, tapping one of his blades to his right ear.

For the first time Eren noticed the scars on his face. He didn’t know why he didn’t see them before. He could recognize Levi by that walk of his and the way he carried his blades, he didn’t need to see his face to know his Captain. A long scar over his eyelid and down his lips. Several other cuts spread out on his cheek. His ear was crooked, he must have damaged his hearing in the blast.

Floch had said they saw Levi’s dead body floating face-down in the river and shot at it. They said he was gone.

Eren had spent so much time preparing for his own death he truthfully hadn’t given any thought to Levi’s possible mortality. Maybe he had just taken it for granted that he would be there. He was an immovable object, a constant, a rock in the stream. He was at every path and crossroads. And some part of him had thought Levi would hold faith in him even after Eren’s secret trip to Marley. He could see he had shaken Mikasa and Armin’s dedication to him. He had broken their friendship. It needed to be done and that branch of his life had withered and died. Levi was different. He didn’t know why. Maybe he thought it was because of the few nights spent in each other’s company. Or maybe the few nights in each other’s bed. How well do you ever know a person? How can we ever truly know someone? Levi must have felt betrayed more than the rest of the others. Eren had slipped from his bed after a night of lovemaking and down to the docks where he boarded the ship that would take him off the island. Did Levi awake to a cold bed and know?

Levi continued yelling at Eren, scarred face contorted as he pointed with his sword to make his point. He looked nothing like his usual self when he was angry and not just because of the scars. Eren couldn’t make out the words through the thick crystal, but he could see Levi’s mouth form certain words. He wasn’t saying anything nice.

“I can’t hear you,” Eren said and Levi stopped, fixing him with a disgusted glare.

He tsked and looked away, pacing back and forth with the thunder spears. Eren didn’t need to hear him to know the exact sound he made. He couldn’t help but smile. The first smile in a very long time.

“You look like shit,” Eren mouthed.

Levi snorted.

“Quit making that face or I’ll kick your teeth out,” Levi said, or at least Eren imagined that’s what he said.

Eren put his hand on the glass and Levi eyed it. There was a shift of cobblestones and Levi leapt swinging his swords around at the hardened stone pillar Eren had created as a chair for him to sit upon.

“Sit,” Eren mouthed.

“Fuck you, come out here—I will blast you—tiny pieces—shitstain—“

Here there was a long list of expletives Eren couldn’t quite make out with no sound. Levi always did have a colorful way of speaking.

“I can’t.”

“Why? Eren why?” Levi mouthed pointedly so Eren could understand him. “What are you thinking?”

“I need to do this!” Eren said, punctuating each word with a bang of his fist on the glass.

“Do what?” Levi threw his arms wide open in a way Eren thought was rather cavalier for someone still strapped to a thunder spear.

“I told you to put everything you had on me! Take all of it and put it on me!” Eren pleaded. “Let me do this!”

Levi strode up to the glass, nostrils flaring, eyes darting back and forth between Eren’s own. Please understand me. Even if you can’t hear the words I’m saying, please understand me. Eren ran his eyes down Levi’s scars before putting his hand against the glass.

Levi looked at Eren’s offered hand like that time Eren had walked into his office right after mucking the horse stalls. Like it was covered in horse shit. He took another step closer, keeping a firm grip on his blades.

“I love you,” Eren mouthed, knowing Levi would never answer him back. He never had.

A green flare shot off a few blocks over. Both Eren and Levi turned to look at it.

“Shit,” they said at the same time.

“You need to go—“ Eren said urgently.

Levi shook his head.

“Levi!”

Levi glared.

When he still didn’t go, Eren pounded both fists on the glass. “GO!”

Eren dropped his titan form the second Levi disappeared from view.

“Did you find them?” Zeke asked, riding in the palm of a titan he controlled.

“No, they ambushed me and then took off,” Eren said, looking discouraged.

If Zeke believed him, Eren couldn’t say. He hopped down from his ride and approached Eren who tensed.

“Hey,” he said, putting his hand on Eren’s shoulder.

It took everything in Eren to keep from jumping at his touch. Eren looked at Zeke’s hand still clasped to his shoulder, not daring to make eye contact with his brother. Zeke couldn’t have known Levi was here. Zeke had said Levi died. And if Levi saw Zeke…all Eren could do is pray Levi didn’t try to ambush them.

Please, Levi. I need him. I need Zeke. If there was another way I would do it.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find them,” Zeke said giving Eren a pat before walking back to rejoin the search party.

<*>

At night, Eren managed to sneak away. A painful wave of nostalgia overcame him as he crept down the familiar streets. He dreamt about them often. You could have blindfolded him and he would have been able to make his way by the touch of stone alone. As it was, the moon lit his path. He stopped in the square and removed his hood.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice bouncing off the cobblestones although he spoke in a hushed tone. “I came alone.”

He sat down on the edge of the empty fountain and waited. After a half hour, he heard the sound of boots behind him and turned.

“Don’t—“ Levi said, holding up his blade. “Don’t take a step closer. Lace your fingers together and put them behind your head.”

Eren did as he asked, watching Levi approach him from the side. Levi pulled at Eren’s hood and cloak, searching for weapons. Despite the blast and horrible scar, Levi’s eye was saved. The whites were still red and raw from the explosion but it only made their grey color all the more startling. Eren reached a hand towards Levi’s cheek and Levi put a blade to his throat.

“Don’t—“ Levi ordered.

Eren ignored him, tracing his fingers down the puckered flesh and over Levi’s lips. Levi hissed in pain.

“Still tender?” Eren asked.

“I don’t just grow my limbs and face back, it takes time for me to heal—“

“It’s agony,” Eren said quietly, moving closer toward Levi despite the blade pressed against his neck. “It hurts every single time.”

He kissed him. Softly. Nothing like the first kiss they’d shared. The first time had felt like two storm clouds crashing in to one another. Yet this was a first time of sorts. They felt like strangers again. That first meeting in the dungeons played over again in Eren’s head.

Levi lowered his blade and pulled away from Eren, licking at the scar on his lips.

“Feels weird. Feels tingly,” Levi muttered. “Nerve damage, the doctor said.”

“Tell me where I can kiss then. Tell me where it feels good,” Eren said, wrapping his hands around Levi’s waist.

“Don’t,” Levi cautioned him. “We aren’t—“

“If you don’t trust me we can still be enemies in the morning,” Eren said. “The whole world hates me. You can hate me too but wait until morning. Please. For now pretend.”

Eren kissed the hollow of his throat and Levi sighed and leaned into him.

The world was ending soon. Spinning faster and faster to a startling halt. Each time Eren ran his hands over Levi he could see a thousand paths light up and grow dark. And then…they stopped and time stood still. As if all paths lead to two people and the love shared between them. Mother and child, father and son, lovers and dreamers. He hoped this was a path that led Levi to a long life. He laced his fingers with Levi’s, only to have him pull away and hiss in pain. Eren kissed his burned hands, his knuckles being gentle with the raw skin where his trigger fingers used to be, the delicate inside of his wrist. It hurt every time to heal, to mend. It hurt to kiss Levi now but the ache was deep and would not heal quickly this time. Levi finally touched his hand to Eren’s chest, to meet that pain, and Eren could not keep the tears away any longer. All that time deadening what was inside, pretending he felt nothing, but I feel it Levi, I feel all of it. The entire weight of the world on my shoulders.

Please live. Live and be happy. Heal and grow old. Live in a time of peace when I’m gone.

The Briefest Kiss Part 5

Part 5

“Miles,” said Alex with an uncharacteristic level of annoyance in his voice, “I told you, we’ll be in France all week. Bloody stay at my place, will you? You’ve got the key, there’s food in the fridge and you’ll have plenty of space and time to sign all those CDs and prepare for the release.”

“Alright,” Miles gave in. “I’ll stay there. Thanks, Al. I just want to make sure I’m not getting in the way of things.”

“In the way of what things? Since when do you ask these kinds of questions?” It wasn’t the first time that Miles had made remarks in complete seriousness that, two years ago, he’d have found ridiculously silly and laughable. When had they ever worried about being in each other’s ways?  

“Forget it,” grumbled Miles. “I just need a new place. Soon.”  

Alex understood that Miles was trying to change the topic, and because he didn’t want this conversation to end in a fight, he let him. It was rare enough to get him on the phone these days and he didn’t want this to become a discussion about something that he found stupid to begin with. “Do that, get a new place! How can you even get sleep with those awfully loud neighbours?”

“I’m in no position to complain,” countered Miles. “The last neighbours moved out because I always play guitar at night!”

Alex chuckled. “You’re supposed to sleep at night.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what you’re doing at night?”

“It doesn’t matter what I do at night. I don’t have any immediate neighbours who could take offense,” pointed Alex out, adding, “you should consider getting a house, Mi. That way you’d finally have room for all those shoes and guitars!”

Alex smiled when he heard Miles laughing on the other end. “I’ll consider it,” said his friend. After a moment of silence, Miles spoke again. “Hey, about the other night, sorry I didn’t go out with you. I wasn’t feeling it. But we definitely need to meet up again. It’s been ages since we had a proper night out.”

“Definitely,” agreed Alex and nodded, even though he knew Miles couldn’t see. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re pissed at me for some reason. It’s been over two months since we last saw each other.” It might not seem like a lot of time, but for them it was. “And when you were here, you barely even spent an hour. I know you’re busy, Miles. But when did you become too busy for me?” He was only half-joking. Sometimes it felt as though their friendship had taken a hit along the road, but no matter how often he checked, he could never spot the damage, only knew that it was there, hiding beneath the surface. If he had to describe it to a mechanic, all he’d be able to say is that it feels different.  

“I’m not too busy,” objected Miles, his voice heavy with regret. “I don’t know what’s going on. I feel like I’m in bit of a funk at the moment.”

Alex wished he was with him just then. He didn’t like conversations via telephone. He preferred looking people in the eyes while speaking to them. It made it easier to read emotions. And he desperately wanted to read Miles’ emotions. He sounded as lost and as confused as he himself felt too often these days. “You have to tell me if I did something wrong. You know me, Mi. I don’t always get it when I say something stupid.”

“It’s not you,” said Miles reassuringly.  

But Alex knew his friend, he could tell when Miles was being deliberately ambiguous, and, clearly, there was something that Miles was not saying. They needed to meet. It was the only way he could press him for answers. “Come to France. The weather is nice, we can hang out and I’ll leave you plenty of space to prepare all your shit for the tour, I promise. I’m sure Taylor would love to see you as well!”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

Alex sighed at Miles’ matter-of-fact statement. “It’s been months. How long do you want to drag this out?” And, also, what, precisely, were they dragging out? It was the one thing that Taylor and Miles deliberately kept from him. Sometime last year, the two of them had a big argument. He’d only overheard the tail end of it and knew it was about Miles’ break-up with Hannah. When he went and asked, first Miles, then Taylor, for details, they had both kept quiet about it. It annoyed him greatly that he didn’t know the whole story. He’d like to fix it but how could he fix it if he didn’t know where to begin!

“She’s your girlfriend, not mine. No need to make things right.” Miles went quiet and Alex waited patiently. “Al...I gotta go. I’ll call soon.” Then he hung up.

Alex couldn’t believe it; he stared at the phone in shock. This might very possibly be the first time that Miles hung up on him. “Bloody hell!?”

“You’re okay?”  

Turning around, he found Taylor leaning behind him against the kitchen counter. Alex shook his head. “No. Just talked to Miles. Something is going on with him, I just know.”

She shrugged and turned around. “Who cares?”

“I do!” said Alex quickly and resolutely. “I’m worried about my friend. I’m worried about my friendship with Miles! I’d like to think you care a little about that.”  

She spun back around and found him staring at her with a mixture of expectation and accusation. “Here’s what I would like,” said Taylor bitterly. “I’d like to think you worry about our relationship.”

Alex sat down, his eyes darted away from her and his demeanour took on a far darker shade. “I wasn’t aware I needed to worry about us.”  

“If you paid a little less attention to Miles and a little more attention to me, you’d be aware,” she all but snapped, clearly trying to contain her anger.  

Alex could tell, because he was trying to do the same. Both were doing that a lot, lately. Every dialogue between them was never more than one or two poorly chosen words away from erupting into a fight. It was a never-ending walk across a high wire. “How about a change for once,” he suggested, fed up with this perpetual undercurrent of unresolved tension, “let’s actually talk about this. Tell me why you’re so fucking mad at Miles that you can’t stand the thought of him and I being friends! It never bothered you before.”

“You’ve never kissed before.”

And there it was. His entire body tensed up. They were back to that, apparently. Alex groaned as he drove his fingers through his hair. “I thought we were over that.”  

That. The stupid, bloody kiss. The one that kept haunting his dreams more often than it should. The one that was the reason why he now locked the door to his recording studio, lyrics and notes inside. “We discussed this, Taylor. It was one silly kiss, two years ago. I meant nothing. We were drunk. That’s all.”

“I would appreciate it if you stopped calling that fucking kiss ‘silly’.” Taylor crossed her arms, staring at him angrily, reminding him, “you wrote a fucking song about that kiss!”  

What a big mistake that had been, thought Alex resentfully. But, as always, he hadn’t been able to help himself. That damned kiss occupied so much bloody space in his head that he had needed to literally write it out of there.  

‘And in response to what you whispered in my ear, I must admit sometimes I fantasise about you, too’

In its original form, the song had included a bit about a kiss. Last year, as he had been sitting at the piano, trying to find the right arrangement, she’d sat down next to him, had leaned in, and had asked, “what did I whisper?”

And he, dumb idiot that he was at times, had been so lost in his thoughts that he had promptly replied, “not you. Him.” After that, his life, complicated though it was already, had become considerably less comfortable. For the rest of the day, she had continued asking question after question, relentlessly pushing for explanations that he couldn’t give. He had only been able to take so much and after four long hours of artfully avoiding giving any sort of actual answer, he had snapped and blurted out, “Miles kissed me and, yes, I fucking liked it!”  

He guessed he should be grateful she was still with him. After all, Hannah had broken up with Miles over the whole thing. Sure, he’d told Taylor that wasn’t the reason. But who was he kidding? They all knew it was the very reason. Maybe not the only one. But it was the deciding one.  

Taylor took a step towards him, kissed his head and tilted his chin up with one finger. “Alex, I love you. And I know you love me. But maybe you need some distance from Miles? He’s busy right now, anyways. And you’re about to go on tour as well. Let’s take a vacation together. Let’s see a bit of the world. You’ve always wanted to go to India. We could do that before you’re off with the band?”

Oh, he wanted to go to India, alright. He had read much about that country. About the culture. About everything, really. And he couldn’t wait to see it with his own eyes. But it wasn’t Taylor he wanted standing next to him when he got there. Not that he could tell her that. “Babe, the timing isn’t right. Not now.”

“But you agree about needing some distance from Miles?”

“No. I barely see him as it is and once touring starts, we’ll see even less of each other. He is a very big, very important part of my life.”

“Yes,” she muttered in resignation. “And we’ve got the lyrics to prove that, don’t we?”

“I hate when you do that!”

“You do?”

She was pissing him off and he was beginning to think she was doing it on purpose. Which, in return, riled him up more and more. “You told me you made out with some girl backstage while Miles and I were playing in New York. I really don’t think you should be sitting on such a fucking high horse right now!”

“We were fucking joking around, it didn’t mean anything,” she all but yelled. “I didn’t write a fucking love song about her!”

“It’s not a love song!” As she glowered at him, he began pacing the kitchen angrily. “A love song is what I wrote for you, Tennessee, remember?”

Taylor slumped back against a wall, deflated and tired. “You want to know the difference between my song and his song? My song is everything a good love song should be. It’s passionate, it’s sexy, it’s got the rights words to it. It’s perfect. And it’s perfect because you’re Alex Fucking Turner and when you decided to write me a love song, naturally, you wrote the perfect song with the perfect words and the perfect arrangement and you wrote it so that everyone knows how fucking good of a songwriter you are!”

“Is that a compliment or a bloody insult?” He asked indignantly.

“Mine is the romantic tale that you want the world to know. His is the deepest truth that you desperately try to keep a secret.” A bitter laugh broke free from her lips. “Tell me, Mr. Songwriter Extraordinaire, which song would you like to have written about you?”  

Alex didn’t answer. He wasn’t entirely sure she wanted an answer. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to make up his answer. And, also, he wasn’t entirely sure that, at this point, an answer would make any kind of difference.  

“Out of words. Imagine that,” said Taylor and left the kitchen.  

I’ve Had An Epiphany

So recently I reconnected with someone from my past who I kept close to my heart. See this someone was my ex from a relationship almost 3 years ago although we tried to become friends again last august it just didn’t work out but despite all the heartbreak, I viewed this person as my first serious love. So for the last 3 years I’ve always thought this person would be someone id care deeply about regardless of the different paths we take in life, this was someone who I wanted nothing but the best for in life. Just over 2 months ago we got back in touch and started rebuilding that friendship, we even went on a date together and things were looking good. He was saying all the right things about how I understood him fully, and how much he liked me. However, within a day everything changed he suddenly told me he didn’t have time for me or a relationship and that his mother was getting worse he would need to look after her more (which was fully understandable) until he then sent a message the following day boosting about how he was going away to a B&B for the weekend and wouldn’t be back till late Sunday night… As you can imagine I was pretty confused he never mentioned any of this before. Things got even more strange when he deleted me off social media to which I called him out on to only be told he didn’t use social media with his real friends but he still wanted to be friends with me. He literally took me off the sites that we had been talking on for the last two months just to get a reaction out of me. I was then told how he had time for his “ Real friends who he see’s and makes time for” Yet he wouldn’t make time for the person he supposedly liked. Apparently to him he was older and I just wouldn’t understand that we don’t share the same views on life… Still even now I’ve no idea what he was on about everything was all over the place. But it made me really look at the person he was and how I tried to sweep all the bad habits and wrong doings this person caused me because I thought I had a connection with them, I truly thought we could have been good together but really I just didn’t want to see the truth that had been staring me in the face for years. I even tried to cover up and make excuses up for his shitty behaviour to my family. That’s the thing about the saying you can lead a horse to water you just can’t force the horse to drink it and even although my family tried to point out things I refused to believe or even acknowledge the wrong doings because I didn’t want to see them, I wanted to pretend he was good for me , I wanted to pretend that he didn’t do things that he knew would visibly upset me because I wanted to see the good in him even when he trailed my heart and my self-worth through the mud I wanted to believe in him!  Many people know I’ve been in therapy for the last 5 months and have been making great progress within myself yet I nearly let myself down because I wanted to see the good in someone who has never changed , who says all the right things at the right time and knows you have a soft spot for them but doesn’t come true on his words , his actions told a different more truthful story to who he actually is and not who I wanted to see. His actions alone and my own self worth made me see the dangers that had been in front of me all this time even when I was young and falling in love for the first time. Its true actions speak louder than words but only if you want to the what’s really going in front of you. I’m blessed and fortunate enough to be surrounded by family who care about me and never once let me forget who I am, how far I’ve come and what I’ve achieved by myself. They made me see that I got to where I am all on my own and never once did this so called great love of mine ever help , well maybe only in the end when they showed who they were but they were always that person I just didn’t want to see it then.  Never let anyone dull your light , listen to those close to you because they are usually the first ones to see someone else’s true colours before you do. People in the end always show who they really are, don’t try to fix someone who wants to stay broken cause they will damage you more than themselves. I’ve realised my own self worth in this process and I can honestly say that I now know what direction I’m going to steer my life towards , I now know what it is I want within the next 5 to 10 years. I now know what my goals will be for the next 6 months. So, to me Ex thank you, truly thank you cause I’ve just had the most life changing moment because of all your bullshit lies, I finally know where my life is headed. May you find peace or not, but I know I’ll be able to sleep well at night.

This is About a... -lot of Baggage.

I am fucking literally over EVERYTHING right now. Everything and everyone and that’s not being dramatic. I literally don’t want a fucking thing to do with anyone I know, don’t know, I don’t fucking care. My life is a jagged, fucking mess. It has been for a long time but it’s definitely gotten worse overtime. During a time that I had just been diagnosed Bipolar and just started realizing I was an alcohol abuser but during that time in my life, no one could say that I wasn’t a good friend. I let people use me, take advantage of me, disregard my feelings, talk shit about me (not to say that I didn’t engage in that too) and whatever else.. i’ve routinely treated people better than they treat me. I would say to ask any one of my friends (who knew me then) but I don’t know if all of them would agree.... things changed and when people look back on memories,, sometimes they only focus only on all of the bad shit that happened between the two of you. And that’s fine. I’ve done bad shit to people, they’ve done bad shit to me. But I keep tabs on things... I take note of how many times I ask “How are you?” and how many times I get asked back. I take mental note of how many times i’ve driven to see you and how many times you’ve driven to see me, how many times I stay up past midnight when someone needs to talk but no one texts me back when I say something first. The shit is nowhere near balanced. The most hypocritical people in my life are the worst. I own my shit, everyone else’s accountability is still on me. Not texting me because you read my mind and just assumed I didn’t want to talk... that’s not on me.

I can’t think of one friendship I have right now that isn’t stressing me out. People could say the same thing about me and again, that’s fine. I am not forcing anyone to be apart of my life but yet people are acting they can’t just leave... My life has been at a stand still for quite some time now.

I partied a lot, drank a lot, got in a lot of trouble and that’s been a contributing factor to almost everything I do. I moved to Seattle because I wanted to live in Seattle but also to try and fix some of the damage I had done. I made some changes but they were minor and short lived. Which is how I ended up on house arrest.

So far, three people have focalized to me that i’m selfish. One of them being my mother. The same woman who would drop me off with my Grandma because she wanted to go out to the club and look for her next husband, the same woman who started using my social security number when I was 7 years old to; open bank accounts and charge them off, to take out payday loans and not pay them back and to take out a home loan, without telling me about any of it. She’s also ridiculed me anytime I cried about a boy or gained weight... the woman who moved me back and forth across the United States every two to three years. The woman who told my two foster sisters that she was going to send them back where they came from everytime they pissed her off. The woman who agreed with my Aunt when she laughed and said in front me “Who’s gonna want to marry you?”. The woman who told me to my face that she wishes she never had kids. That woman. That’s the woman who’s calling me selfish. Anyone else who has said it or thought it think they’re putting in as much effort as I am and they’re not.

Am I denying that i’m being selfish? Absolutely not. People just need to make sure that their shit is on the same level that they’re trying to put me on before they judge me. This happens every, single, fucking time. I’ll take a moment and decide that i’m going to try to take care of myself, a fucking tornado comes thru and just fucks up everything. I’m fucking tired of constantly being ridiculed for who and what I am.

There was a person in my life who hurt me. This person really fucking hurt me and wants to apologize. But the thing they want to apologize for is something that they do over and over and over again. They do it, apologize, do it all over again, fucking repeat. This person does this to everyone. People put up with this persons toxic behavior for years. One person especially. This person vents me to constantly about how this situation is giving her anxiety, stressing her out and hurting her physically and emotionally. Making her think that she can’t leave this person because they’d kill themselves if she did....

As of right now, the current idea is that i’ll forgive this person because “I should understand”. I fucking understand. I understand that she had me laying up the entire night,, more than once wondering if she was dead and then her hitting me up acting like absolutely nothing had happened. I understand completely. Do I need to have that negativity in my life? Let me think about that... I’m being told I should be friends with her again because she needs me. Yes, i’m going to be fucking selfish. That’s like telling someone who’s being abused that they should stay with the person because they need to understand that that person is going thru a tough time. What about the fucking person being abused. Friends are supposed to be there for EACH OTHER. I’m not a place people can go to unload their baggage and then just walk off and come back when they need to unload again.

I do give... I’ve given... I’ve given my everything to more than one person in my life and every, single, last one of them is gone. People have dropped me for minor things, people have dropped because in their mind our friendship had run past it’s expiration date, there’s a couple that were not so minor... Now I lay it out. What you get is what you get. If that’s hurting other people, I am sorry but I’m hurting too. I have NEVER been accepted. I’ve had to hear my parents arguing in the kitchen about whose fault it was that i’m so screwed up, relatives telling me “we’re glad you turned out well because we were worried for awhile”, my mother being upset that i’m not going to give her grandchildren when I can’t even keep a man long enough to do so, complete strangers coming up to me and asking me what’s wrong with me or asking if I’m a man.. or if my hair is real. How do I not sound dramatic saying that nothing I do is accepted by anyone.... it’s not that black and white but that is what my life is.

I have such paralyzing anxiety that I’ve had to go to work, walk up to the door and turn around and leave because I couldn’t go inside. My mother always thought my clinging to her in public places when I was younger was a funny story to tell her friends when it was actually me being terrified and not knowing what to do about it. I’ve adapted over time but it’s still hard for me to be around people. Sometimes it’s so bad that I can’t breath. Sometimes I look at people and want to to speak but nothing comes out. Sometimes I sit in my car and cry about it because I can’t get far enough away from all of my external triggers. My mind is always telling me that someone is talking about me, or looking at me, or is too close to me and I should feel threatened. Am I the only person who feels this way? I know I’m not. Does every person who goes thru this react the same way. No, they don’t. I react the only way I know how. Bearing thru it. People who think i’m not making an effort have no fucking idea that any effort I have made is the best that I can do.

If my best isn’t good enough, then I have no problem removing myself. I don’t have to forgive anyone if they treat me poorly, I don’t have to go out of my way to talk to someone when I’m not properly functioning and when i’m in my own fucking house, minding my business. I push myself past my limit every fucking day to please someone else. The only people who should have expectations on me are the people signing my checks. If i’ve been overly stimulated and need to go home to fucking decompress, I shouldn’t have to fucking talk to anyone. Living by myself was one of the best things i’ve ever done because now i’m sure that’s what I need. I literally have nowhere to feel safe. I am fucking judged all day, every single fucking day. God forbid i’m having an episode and I don’t leave my room because i’m going to offend someone who isn’t my fucking concern. I’m past the point of even caring if it’s common fucking decency. My moms husband would talk shit about me because I wasn’t getting up to answer the front door and having my Grandmother do it while I was upstairs passed out because I had just taken a horse tranquilizer and wouldn’t hear a fucking bomb go off. No one gives a shit that I took it to sedate myself.. so that I wouldn’t kill myself. It’s easy to blame other people. That’s what i’m doing right now. But i’m also blaming myself. I do distance myself from people, I do go days without talking to anyone. Right now, i’m doing that because that’s the only way I can keep it together. I let people in and it’s fucking floodgates. And every conversation ends with that person telling me what i’m doing wrong to them. I am working full time, have a second part time job and i’m in school and I have FEMALES going off on me because I’m not texting them back. Why can’t I just get my shit done! I help someone out, they fucking get what they need out of me and then i’m fucked cause I put all my shit aside and I have to process their shit along with my own. My mind is SO fucking loud. Someone can say something to me and there’s screaming in my head that they don’t even know is happening. I’m not someone to lean on now. I may never be that person again. And maybe I don’t want to be...

Ways they could’ve handled Rose Tico in The Last Jedi  and what they did instead

My other Sequel Trilogy Wasted Potential posts

Rey

Finn

Poe

Luke

Han

Leia

Kylo Ren

Captain Phasma

Hux

Snoke

List of ways they could’ve handled Rose in the sequel trilogy

Make Rose the Hacker. It’s not unrealistic for the Resistance to have one. She could still think her skills aren’t useful considering most Wars have been won by soldiers and Jedi, not hackers. Paige is a Resistance fighter and her sister is a hacker. The Tico sisters fight the war in their own way. Finn and Poe go to Canto Bight to get Rose. Rose is on the planet to make the war profiteers hurt, and Finn and Poe must convince her. Her character arc could be learning that the war is much bigger than just her and that her sister, and the galaxy need her.

Finn and Rose’s mission is to find the master codebreaker. The Master Codebreaker they are meant to find is none other than Lando Calrissian. Lando is the person Finn and Rose are meant to get help from. They leave with DJ, but Lando was expecting to meet two members from the Resistance, so he leaves Canto Bight and on his way out he gets Leia’s message and mobilizes old friends from the Rebellion(a cameo from Wedge Antilles) and goes to give the Resistance some reinforcements. So instead of a hopelessly outgunned Resistance at Death’s door, when all hope seems lost, Lando brings the cavalry and shows The Rebellion is alive and hope still lives. We then see a little reunion with Lando, Leia and Chewbacca and Lando revealing that he was who Finn and Rose were meant to meet. 

Rose is a highly valued Resistance Mechanic fighting for The Resistance her own way as Paige was a bomber

Actually letting Paige live and actually giving us the sisterly bond between Rose and Paige and you know, GIVING  Ngô Thanh Vân SPEAKING LINES

Letting Rose empathize with Finn’s trauma and acknowledge that they are both cut from the same cloth. Rose and Paige lost their family and home and Finn lost his family and home, they have something in common and a reason to fight for The Resistance

Have Finn tell Rose about Rey and Rose being in awe of the Jedi and hopes to someday meet her and understands why Finn loves her

Letting Finn and Rose’s plan to disable the tracker succeed and only be captured upon reaching the escape pods.

Finn and Rose convince Poe that the speeder run will end in disaster and the three of them mount a desperate defense in the bunker, until Luke arrives. After Luke leaves to confront The First Order, they all leave and escape thanks to the Crystal Foxes.

We get to see Rose meeting Rey and the start of a beautiful relationship friendship

What they chose to do with Rose instead

Poorly written. I wanted to like Rose…Bad writing and direction prevents that. The Supremacy is tracking them through hyperspace, but Rose sees this as desertion….Desertion? You taze people for desertion? How exactly am I supposed to root for either side again? This is probably the same only less lethal treatment one could expect from The First Order. And what if The Raddus took critical damage? Are you trying to tell me Rose would taze anyone going to the escape pods? I thought she was supposed to be a mechanic, not someone who prevents escape. Finn is then tazed by Rose, which is understandable, she thought he was running away and she was in mourning. He also was objectively posing absolutely no threat to her, wasn’t running away, and was even trying to explain himself. Additionally, just the threat of the taser seemed to have been enough to stop him from leaving. But Rose attacked him anyways. The difference between Rey and Rose attacking Finn is Rey subdued Finn just enough to stop and interrogate him, Rose went completely overboard by paralyzing him and knocking him unconscious. It was completely unnecessary and gratuitous and is supposed to be played for laughs. Rey and Finn have a real friendship and partnership from the last movie. Rose, on the other hand, spends the rest of the movie belittling Finn and talking down to him. The book also says that she thought about using violence against him more than once after the tasing (for annoying her) and even pushed him. This displays a really problematic pattern of violence and disrespect towards Finn so yeah,  multiple uses of violence and expressed desire to inflict violence on him as being abusive. I would argue that she is undeniably verbally abusive with Finn. In the movie and in the book (more so in the book) she often belittles him by calling him names and using other put downs. It seems she wants to make him feel bad about himself and bring him down, which is abusive. Of course, it doesn’t really matter what her intent is, even if she doesn’t “mean to be mean” it still counts as verbal abuse. So, in summary, her repeated threats and use of violence against Finn and her continual use of insults and put downs causes me to come to the conclusion that she is abusive to Finn. And I am supposed to root for them to be in a relationship?

Cared more about space horses than saving slave children. Who cares that these children are gonna be left at the mercy of their violent slave owners and face merciless abuse, because after all, it was all worth it to free the animals!!! Look at us, we’re so progressive!!!….Please kill me

The plan to disable the Hyperspace tracking is made to pointlessly fail. Finn, Rose and DJ are close to fulfilling their objective and fail for no reason whatsoever. Okay first of all, Finn and Rose are captured because neither Finn or Rose bothered to get to a parking spot. So instead of going to find the ACTUAL Master Codebreaker(which told a better story) we are instead shown to DJ. This is a character who is made to be untrustworthy from the beginning and even sounds like a snake. So obviously he betrays them. And instead of letting them disable their tracker and just being caught when heading towards the escape pods, their plan is made to fail, making everything they’ve been trying to do ultimately pointless. It effect the plot even in the slightest. You could remove it and nothing would change in the slightest. Nothing mattered. Apparently the people of color needed their white hero savior to show them up…..*sighs*

Rose stopping Finn. “that’s how we win, not by fighting what we hate, by saving what we love.” That makes no sense and ignores the entire narrative of Star Wars and heroism of the saga. Paige, her sister sacrificed herself to save The Resistance. Holdo sacrificed herself to save The Resistance. The Rogue One crew sacrificed themselves. Kanan Jarrus sacrificed himself to save what he loved. Finn’s entire arc in the movie was learning not to just think about running away with Rey and fight for a greater cause and when the time comes for Finn to prove that he’s grown as a character, he can’t? What was the point of Finn’s arc in the movie? And let’s talk about Poe. Shouldn’t Poe be sacrificing himself? Poe has spent the entire film watching others die and give their lives and he’s never backed down, so shouldn’t Poe be in Finn’s place? And if Rose stopped Finn who would save The Resistance? We saw after Rose stopped Finn, the bunker was blown up by the battering ram. Absolutely NO ONE knew that Luke was going to make his surprise entrance and save everyone. For all we knew, The First Order would’ve moved into the bunker and killed everyone and The Resistance.

in TLJ novel she is made bitter and jealous of Rey when Rey is trying to save them….great, we are actually putting the only two main female characters of the sequel trilogy against each other because Jason Fry and Rian Johnson are misogynists and complete and utter fucking morons

Rose Tico could’ve been a great character, but because she was in the hands of Rian Johnson, she had no chance of succeeding. I can only hope she is handled better and by someone competent. Rose Tico and Kelly Marie Tran deserved better

Another three chapters

Hi, here’s the next three.  This is going to be longer story than I thought.  As usual, I have no idea where this is going. But there will be a love interest for Katniss soon. Chapter 17. The fresh meat in the fridge and the canned food are where I left them, untouched.  I’m annoyed but not surprised.   Haymitch neglects to feed himself, let alone a neighbour’s cat.  Peeta would have been the reliable choice to take care of Buttercup’s needs while I was gone.  But I didn’t want to ask him, so that left Haymitch.   But Buttercup hasn’t starved despite the pitiful mewing and reproachful looks he greets me with.  I left him a mountain of dry cat food and he’s more than capable of feeding himself anyway. It might do him some good to keep up his hunting skills and catch his own food for a change.  That goes for me too.  There’s still a week to go of the winter break before school resumes and I intend to spend every one of those days in the woods.   Before I do, I check in with Haymitch.  I want to tell him what I discovered about Lace. I thought of nothing else on the long train journey home.  No, that’s not quite true.  Lulled by the gentle rocking of the train, I fell into a doze and I couldn’t help memories of other train journeys drifting in.  Of nights with Peeta, safe and snug in his strong arms, the comforting rise and fall of his chest against my cheek, a slight breeze from an open window fanning my skin.  I had to give myself a shake and a stern talking too.   Allowing myself to indulge in such thoughts won’t help. To my surprise, Haymitch is neither here nor there about my news.  I thought he’d be as concerned as I am. “Look, if he was about to marry the girl, I might feel that I’d have to step in.  But what of great importance has she kept from him, exactly?  He already knows about the pregnancy and miscarriage.  Half the country is pretending to be something else, depending on where they settle. Old hatreds die hard and the war didn’t change that.   What’s a name change and a little stretching of the truth if it keeps the peace?   Besides, he won’t thank us.  He’s sure to see it as interference.  I say let sleeping dogs lie.  For the moment, anyway.  And who knows, maybe she’ll tell him herself in good time.  She might be forced to anyway, if Arthur tells her that you know. She’ll want to get in before you do.” Haymitch reaches out for another cookie.   I found a bag of them at my front door and brought them over to share.  A welcome home gift from Peeta, I assume.   He keeps me well supplied.   I have to admit that he does have a point. I wouldn’t expose my former prep team.  They have also bent the truth about their past to fit into a new district.   To their mind, they’ve done nothing wrong.  They thought they were helping the tributes by presenting them as attractively as they could.  But others, perhaps like Gale had, wouldn’t see it that way and would rather see them tarred and feathered and run out of 12. I try a different tack.  “It doesn’t seem right, that’s all.  You know Peeta has trust issues.  It’s important that what he’s told is real.  How is he going to get better if people lie to him?  People he’s supposed to trust? He’ll go straight back to doubting what’s real or not real.” “Then he learns not to take everyone at face value.  What do you care, anyway?  I thought you were cutting him from your life,” he says.

“I am.  But it doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to him.  I want him to be happy.  And I don’t think he’ll be happy being lied to.  Didn’t you tell me that I have to be honest with him because if I’m not, then he won’t trust me with the truth?  I don’t know why it should be any different for Lace.” “We weren’t talking about Lace.  We were talking about you,” Haymitch points out. “Lace isn’t the key to his past, like you are.  Whatever she did before they met, it didn’t involve him.  In any case, I don’t think you’re in a position to lecture anyone about honesty.” “What does that mean?” I ask, my hackles rising. “I mean that you’re not being honest with him either.  You say you want nothing more to do with him, yet I see you walking into town with him most mornings.  What’s Peeta supposed to make of it?”   “He’s the one who waits for me!” I splutter indignantly.  “What am I supposed to do?  Just ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist? ” “You could tell him the truth.”

Not this again.  Haymitch and I will never agree on what I should do about Peeta.   “I’ve done nothing but tell the truth, much good it’s done me.  Whatever he’s asked, I’ve answered as honestly as I can.   If he asks, I’ll tell him.   But he doesn’t ask.  We’ve been over this before.  Peeta’s moved on and I want to as well.   He doesn’t want to lose the friendship.  That’s why he hangs around me so much.” I understand exactly what Peeta is feeling.  I went through it with Gale.  Clinging to the friendship and giving hope when there wasn’t any.  But it wasn’t fair to him.  And this isn’t fair to me.  Turning someone loose can be the kindest thing you can do for them. Peeta would agree, if he knew. “Peeta can’t have us both - me to hang-out with, and Lace to . . . well, whatever it is they do together,” I say. “I’ll take a guess as to what Peeta and Lace get up to,” says Haymitch, giving me an arch look.    Peeta’s a healthy young adult, physically anyway, and we know Lace has had at least one lover, so my guess is – “ “Just shut up about it, Haymitch.”  I say irritably.  I know what he’s doing.  It’s a tactic he’s tried before. He’s trying to goad me to act.   “I really don’t care what they do.” “Yes, you do, despite whatever nonsense you’re telling yourself.”  Haymitch rises from his chair to shamble over to a sideboard piled with books, discarded bottles and loose bits of paper.  “I don’t know what they do together.  Peeta doesn’t talk about her.  Hasn’t in weeks.  They could be doing jigsaw puzzles for all I know.”   “Peeta doesn’t like jigsaw puzzles.”

Haymitch doesn’t answer.  He’s busy sorting through the papers.   “Ah, here it is.   The council asked me to pass this on.”  Haymitch hands me a long white envelope addressed to me.  There’s a coffee stain ring left by a cup resting on it. “How long have you had this?” I ask. “Not long. A few days, maybe.  It’s a job offer.  Apparently, you left your name with the council a while back.” I had forgotten about that.  That was the day I went looking for work.  I found a job at the bakery and Max approached me to work at the school.   The council wasn’t hiring at the time, but I left my name and credentials in case anything became available.   I tear open the envelope and pull out the letter.  “They want me to act as a guide for some man who’s surveying the woods or something.  It will have to fit with my job at the school if I do it.  If they’re happy with three days over weekends it could work out.”   I stuff the letter into my pocket.  I want to get home now.  I’ve told Haymitch about Lace and now it’s up to him.  His favourite soap will be on soon and I know he doesn’t like to miss it.  “One Life to Live” – the saga of two rival families and a forbidden love.   “I’ll go now and let you get back to the TV,” I tell him.  “Maybe tonight Blake and Celia will get their act together.  How long have they dragged this out?  Two seasons?” “Three.  And they won’t.  Because they’re idiots.  It’s my curse to be surrounded by them.” I give Haymitch a baleful look.  It’s wasted because his back is to me as he reaches for the TV remote.  I get my revenge by snatching up the bag with the cookies and dashing out the door before he has time to say anything.   A short time later, I’ve settled in for some television watching of my own with a cup of tea and the bag of cookies.   I don’t remember Peeta making this kind before – soft, buttery with the outside rolled in cinnamon and sugar.  I’m glad I didn’t leave them with Haymitch.  I flick through the channels.  There’s been an explosion of them since Plutarch became secretary of communications.  He sets the programming for the airwaves.  We have him to thank for “One Life to Live” of which he took over as executive producer.   I switch to a news program.  It’s a piece about that Muir person I read about.  The one who wants to go around establishing national parks.  He’s currently in 7, lamenting how much woodland has been sacrificed for commercial timber production.  He wants legislation put in place immediately to stop further damage.  The logging companies don’t support it.  They had hoped that with the overthrow of the Snow regime, the woods would be opened up as a sort of free-for-all.   But Muir’s managed to raise a lot of support from the local community.  They’ve formed protest groups and do bizarre things like chaining themselves to trees.  One woman, who looks suspiciously like Johanna Mason, has gone one step further and has chained herself naked to a large oak.   The camera, after a lengthy time showing her in long shot, zooms in on her face.  Yes, it’s Johanna.  And having the time of her life, by the look of it.   The program goes to a commercial break. I flick through a few more channels before settling on “One Life to Live.”  I wouldn’t admit it to Haymitch, but I do watch it occasionally.  It’s so slow moving you can miss entire episodes and still pick up the plot easily. 

Celia Chastely and Blake Knight are from families who at odds. The Chastelys own a large agricultural farm in District 11 somewhere near the border of District 5.  They are committed to the production of organic fruits and vegetables, chemical free and using only sustainable farming methods.  The Knights, from District 5, are oil barons whose fields show signs of running dry.  However, they’ve identified a rich oil reservoir on adjoining land.  The difficulty is that this land belongs to the Chastelys who refuse to allow the Knights access.  They don’t want anything to compromise the integrity of their produce. Celia and Blake first met when they were aged about eleven.  Celia was riding her horse – an activity her parents encouraged as a healthy form of exercise, and an efficient method of delivering organic fertilizer in the form of horse manure to the outlying orchards.  Blake had accompanied his father to inspect a new rig and had wandered down to the boundary fence with the idea of scaling it to help himself to an apple, or two.   Just as Blake leaped down from the tree, Celia came upon him.  Her horse startled and she was thrown.  She wasn’t injured, being more shocked than anything.  Angry at first, she was soon won over by Blake’s concern and help in retrieving her horse.  It was the start of a covert friendship.  Neither dared tell their parents about it, afraid that they would be forbidden to see each other. Over time, friendship turned to love.   When they were sixteen, Blake told Celia that he was in love with her.  But Celia, confused about her feelings, but knowing that a union between them could only end in sorrow, told Blake she didn’t feel the same way and they must stop seeing each other.  Blake was crushed but he had no choice but to accede to Celia’s wishes.   Celia lived up to her name.  Beautiful but unattainable, suitors came and went, defeated by Celia’s impenetrable veneer of purity.   Blake, reeling from the pain of unrequited love, fell for the wiles of the conniving Ginger Morgan, girl-on-the-make. As they move about in society – parties, balls, hayrides - Celia and Blake are often in the same company.  Coolly polite when they interact, they are unaware of the deep, passionate love the other has for them.   Celia is convinced that Blake loves Ginger, and Blake is convinced that Celia can never love him.   In tonight’s episode, Blake proposes marriage to Ginger after she tells him she’s pregnant with his baby.   The child’s father is actually the lead guitarist in a rock band with whom Ginger had a brief fling a few months ago.  Celia has a nervous breakdown when she hears and the episode ends with Celia standing at her bedroom window, tears streaming down her face.

I grab the remote and turn off the TV in disgust. The whole situation makes me want to throw up.  Fools!  Why can’t they just be honest with each other?  Why do they always assume to know what the other is thinking?  Communication!  That’s all it would take.   Their problems aren’t insurmountable.  I don’t know why I watch this rubbish.   But I guess it did, at least, get my mind off what Haymitch hinted at before, when we talked about what Peeta and Lace do together.  It’s been niggling at me since he said it.   It’s not something I haven’t guessed at, but it’s another to thing to have Haymitch bring it up.  It makes it more real, somehow, that it’s not just me who thinks it.    Of course they would be having sex.  Peeta is nearly twenty.   Lace must be twenty-one if she was seventeen at the time of our Victor’s tour.  And she’s had sex before.  She’d be experienced then.  Do men like that?  I suppose they must.  I can’t imagine it would be as enjoyable with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Like me.   In my dreams that night, I’m at the mayor’s party in my midnight blue Cinna dress with the diamonds.  Max spins me around and diamonds pop off in every direction, whizzing through the air and hitting people close by, including Lace who is struck on the side of her head.  Peeta frowns at me, at first in disapproval and then in disgust.   I look down at my dress and see that it’s disintegrated into a pile of ash at my feet.   I’m naked except for my silver high heeled shoes.   I hear someone call out “Katniss Ever-ready.”  Is it Max?  I don’t know. All my focus is on Peeta as he grabs Lace by the hand and leads her through a set of swinging double doors. I follow them into a labyrinth of dark passageways, intersecting, and twisting this way and that.  I soon lose sight of them in the darkness and I’m afraid that I might be lost in there forever.   My feet hurt and I take off my shoes, holding them in one hand and using the other to feel my way along the passage walls. 

Presently I hear what sounds like soft grunts.  I follow the sound, listening carefully as it grows louder until I come to the end of the passage where it intersects with another.  In one direction there’s darkness, but the other is flooded with light.   But when I turn into the lit passage, relieved to have found a way out, I freeze with shock.   There, standing directly under a wall sconce, and bathed in light, is Peeta and Lace.  My brain registers every detail.  I don’t know how, because I’m incapable of ordered thought.  But like a camera, it records every image.  Every nuance.  And this is something I’d like so much to forget. Peeta’s back is to me.  Lace is behind him, her back pressed against the wall.   His pants are slack around his hips.   Her dress is rucked up around hers, one leg wraps his waist.  His hand squeezes her breast, while the other is tangled in her hair.   His face is mashed against hers, mouths working feverishly together.  His hips thrust rhythmically into hers.  With every thrust, her leg tightens around him.  With every thrust, one, or both of them, grunt.  My shoes slip from my fingers, and fall to the ground with a clatter.   Peeta slowly turns his head in my direction, but his hips keep thrusting.  He’s grinning at me.  “Katniss,” he says. “Why so shocked?  You’re so . . . pure.” Lace is mocking.  “So pure,” she repeats scornfully.  “No wonder he turned elsewhere.” I turn heel and run, back into the dark where I don’t have to see such things.  “Virgin, virgin, stupid, stupid virgin,” Lace calls after me. I wake sweating and with a racing heart.   It was just a dream, I tell myself, just a dream.  But at the mayor’s party they really did disappear behind a set of swinging double doors.  I didn’t dream that.  It happened.  And Peeta did leave with Lace after Max spun me around when we danced.  And Lace’s hair was mussed when they eventually returned to the party.   I’m convinced now that if I had followed them, I would have caught them having sex. Not just making out.  But having sex.  Probably in some dark corner somewhere, rutting like animals, and grunting like the pig the Mellarks kept behind their shop.   What else would they have been doing?  Couldn’t even wait until they got home.  How tacky!  How disrespectful!  I hate him! Hate him, hate him, hate him!   Chapter 18 It’s fortunate that I don’t see Peeta until the day when school resumes.  I’ve since calmed down and made myself see reason.  It was only a dream, after all.  I don’t know what they did behind those swinging double doors.   But even if Peeta and Lace did sneak away for sex, it’s none of my business.  There was never an understanding between us, and there certainly isn’t one now. Peeta’s free to have sex with whoever he likes.  As am I. It’s of no comfort though, the thought of having sex with whomever I like.   The only one I want to do it with is Peeta. As soon as I see him, I’m ashamed of myself. His open, honest face glows with pleasure when I emerge from my house.  He’s waiting to walk with me into town, as he does every work day.  None of this is his fault.  I need to remind myself of it constantly.   This jealousy of mine gets worse, not better as I hoped it would.  I just want the torture to end.   “Thanks for the cookies you left for me. They were delicious,” I say.   Guilt makes me say the first kind thought that comes into my head. Peeta smiles at me.  “You’re welcome.  There’s a story behind those cookies.  It’s an old family recipe, but do you think I could remember it?” He shakes his head.   “I must have baked hundreds of them when I worked in the bakery.  But I just couldn’t replicate it.  Something was always missing.  But then Dr Aurelius suggested that I stop trying.  To just go through the motions and not think about it except to keep the final result in mind.  So, I creamed butter with sugar, like I usually do when I make cookies, but when I went into the pantry for baking soda, I also found myself reaching for cream of tartar.   And that was it!  That’s what was missing.  You don’t have snickerdoodles without it.” “Is that what they’re called? Snickerdoodles?  I like the name.  I ate almost all of them in a single sitting.  Well, not almost all of them,” I add, in case I sound like the glutton I really am.  “Haymitch helped.”   “Dr Aurelius said that technique might help with regaining other memories.  To re-enact them, without thinking about it too much, while I visualize what I do remember,” he says. “Maybe,” I say.  “I guess it can’t hurt.”  I don’t have high hopes, despite memories coming back.  Not the way Peeta interprets everything.   “How was the wedding?” Peeta asks.   “It was good.  Sateen got the wedding she wanted.  Lots of tulle, lots of guests, lots of bridesmaids.  And the Buttons were very welcoming.  They had a dinner for me and showed me around 8.   It’s changed a lot from how we remember it.  I mean, how I remember it,” I quickly correct myself. “I remember quite a lot about 8, actually. Grey and depressing.  Nothing but factories and tenements.” I nod. “That’s it.”  A thought comes into my head.  “Do you remember the Victory tour party?” “Yes.  Not that there was anything particularly memorable about it.  It was just as awful as the rest of them.” He doesn’t remember meeting Lace then.   He’d mention it, if he did. “It’s much better for factory workers now,” I say.   “Most of the tenements are gone, and they’ve been replaced with nice new apartments with courtyards.   And there’s plenty of parks and gardens too.  And shops of every kind.  Lace would barely recognize it.  Does she ever talk about going back, even to visit?”  

“Lace doesn’t talk about 8.  Too many painful memories, I guess.”  I watch Peeta’s face carefully for any change of expression, but there is none.  My guess is that she still hasn’t told him.  Haymitch either.   “Yeah, I guess,” I say.  And too much to hide, I silently add. I hitch the straps of my pack forward to ease some of the weight off my shoulders.  It’s heavy with books I borrowed from the Matsons to read over the break.  They’re training me to take a more active role in the classroom.  At the moment I teach nature studies and assist Moira with the little ones.  The Matsons want me to have a class of my own teaching first graders.  They say it’s the next step.   And needed too, with the school expanding as it is.   “Here, let me take that,” says Peeta, taking the pack from me and lifting it to his own shoulders.   “There’s no need,” I protest.  But I’m happy to have Peeta carry it.  My back feels deliciously light to be relieved of its burden.   “Did Arthur enjoy the wedding?” Peeta asks. “Oh, um, I suppose,” I say, with a laugh. “He seemed to, although I don’t think social occasions in general are Arthur’s thing.  Not unless there’s business contacts to be made, that is. Why do you ask?”  I’m curious why Peeta wants to know.  It was his sister’s wedding.  And he’d be among people he had known for years.   Why wouldn’t he enjoy it? “Just something Lace said.  About how boring weddings are in 8 and she was glad she didn’t have to go.  Lace loves parties so that’s really saying something.  She seemed to think Arthur was in for a miserable time.” “Oh,” I say, considering it.  It sounds like sour grapes to me.   She’d know what kind of wedding Sateen would have.   Lace is a long-standing friend of Arthur and Sateen’s and a member of the owner class herself.  I’m certain she would have been invited if the circumstances were different.  But, as things are, it would have been impossible.   People like Aunt Paisley would have made mincemeat out of her.  Maybe even boycotted the wedding if it was known she’d be there.  How galling it must be that I got to go when she didn’t.  Perhaps she’d imagined that I’d have a great fuss made over me too.  But why single out Arthur, rather than me, for not having a good time?  It would make more sense to hope that I’d be the one who’d be miserable.   Unless . . . she thinks Arthur is interested in me. Sateen could have given her that impression.  And she also saw Arthur and me having lunch together.  Why, she’s jealous!  Jealous that Arthur’s devotion might go to another.  And to me, of all people.   How ironic for Arthur, if that all he had to do to get Lace’s attention, was to appear to look elsewhere. “Well, I suppose Lace’s experience with weddings in 8 would be as a factory worker,” I say.   “If they’re anything like the weddings in Seam, it would have been no big deal.”     A trip to the Justice Building.  A small celebration with close family and friends and maybe some cake, if it could be afforded.  And then escorting the newlyweds to their new home to sing the traditional song as they crossed the threshold.  The final ceremony, the toasting, was a private one.  That was a typical Seam wedding. Again, I watch Peeta’s expression.  There’s no change when I mention factory worker. “Yeah, I guess that would be it,” says Peeta, not looking entirely convinced.   We walk in companionable silence for a little while.  It’s a beautiful day.   Clear blue skies, the snow glistening in the sunlight.    It reminds me of other walks into town with Peeta before he was hijacked.   He’d take me by the hand as we walked.  It was part of the act, of course. We had to be seen to be lovers when we were in public.  But it felt so natural, I was never aware that that’s what it was.  I must have loved him then, without realizing it. The memory makes it that much harder for what I must do next.  I can’t continue as things are.  I want an end to it.  I want no more dreams like I had the other night. I take a deep breath.  Courage, Everdeen.  “So, when are you and Lace getting married?” I ask brightly.   Peeta appears startled and it takes a few moments for him to answer.  “What? Married?  I haven’t even thought about it.  We haven’t known each other for that long.” “It’s almost a year since you started dating. My parents married after only a few months.  Not that they dated, exactly, but you know what I mean.  I just thought . . . well, the two of you seem to be very much in love. And when you’ve found the one you’re meant to be with . . .” I say, trailing off.   “You think Lace is the one I’m meant to be with?” he asks, somewhat dubiously. “Well, I don’t know.   Only you can answer that.  But if you’re sure, and there’s no one else, I can’t see the point of dragging things out.  We’ve both lost people close to us.  Who knows how much time we have?  Maybe we should grab what we can, while we can.” “I suppose you have a point.   But marriage . . .  it’s a big step to take.    I don’t know what Lace thinks about it either.” “There’s only one way to find out.”  Lace will jump at it.  Married to the man of her fantasies, it’s a dream come true. “But she seems smitten with you.   It’s the same for you, isn’t it?   Love at first sight, being a good boyfriend more important than anything.”  I can’t help sounding bitter at this, but Peeta doesn’t seem to notice.  His brow is creased in thought.  It’s the same expression he has when he’s trying to make sense of his tangle of memories. What’s real or not real.   “I try to be a good boyfriend,” he says, uncertainly.   “I don’t know.  I’ll have to give it some thought.  But you think it’s a good idea?” He looks intently at me, as if the answer is to be found in me somehow. 

“It’s not about what I think, Peeta.   It’s what you think.  She’s the girl of your dreams, isn’t she?”

At this, Peeta seems more confused than ever.   Worse, he looks almost panicked.  Suddenly I’m sorry I brought the subject up.   I was sure I was only voicing what Peeta was already thinking.  It was just to give him a nudge in the direction he was going in anyway.  And to give him permission to do as he wanted, in case his need to hold on to my friendship was holding him back, as mine did with Gale.   “Look, I’m sorry I mentioned it.   It’s none of my business who, or when, you marry. Please forget what I said.  I have marriage on the brain from Sateen’s wedding, that’s all.” Peeta nods, and we lapse into silence again.   But the sense of peacefulness has gone. I have this awful feeling that I’ve planted a seed – a seed that might not have existed before.  Peeta is vulnerable to suggestion.  I hope I haven’t steered him in the wrong direction. I reap what I’ve sown a week later.   It’s late on a Sunday morning when Haymitch comes in to my house unannounced.  I’ve just returned from a hunt, my game bag still in hand, and eager to change out of my clothes as soon as possible.   I’d slipped and fallen in a puddle of melting snow. My back is sodden.

He gets right down to it.  “I have some news about Peeta.  You’ll want to sit down for this.”

“Just tell me,” I say.  I dump my game bag onto the kitchen bench and turn to face him.  He looks worried and that makes me worried. “Has something bad happened?” “You could say that.  He’s got himself engaged.  To Lace.” I stare blankly at him.  “Right,” I finally get out.   I clutch the back of a kitchen chair to keep myself steady.   “Well, I suppose it’s not unexpected.  It’s been coming for some time.  As long as Peeta is happy.”   “Oh, he’s happy, alright.  He’s whistling about the place, he’s so happy.  He was at my house almost at the crack of dawn to announce the news.  I’ve been waiting for you to return so I could warn you before he comes here.” “Thank you, but Peeta and I don���t visit each other’s homes anymore.  Not without an invitation,” I say.   My voice sounds abnormally calm.   I don’t know what’s the matter with me.  I should be devastated.  But I just feel numb. “Katniss, it’s alright to be upset.  I know it’s a shock.  But we have to stop it.  He can’t marry in the state he’s in.  To anyone.  And we barely know the girl, except that she’s lied about who she is,” he says. “Maybe Dr Aurelius will talk to him.  But I think we should let him be.  I’ve interfered enough.  I just make him worse, whatever I do.”   I did this.  This is my fault.  I thought I was doing him a favour.  But I was just being selfish, like I always am.  I wanted an end to it.  Not for Peeta’s sake, but my own.  And I got my wish.  I put the thought of marriage into his head, just as I put the notion of her being his girlfriend into his head.   “He loves Lace.  I know he does.  And I think she loves him,” I say.  “We have to let him find his own happiness, whether we agree with it or not.  He deserves that, after everything.”

“What he deserves is to be protected from himself until he’s well enough to make that kind of decision on his own,” Haymitch argues. He runs a hand through his hair and begins pacing the room.  “Fuck, it was those tapes.  I should have been more forthcoming with him.  Came straight out with it, instead of fucking around, only revealing bits of information at a time.  I’m sorry, Katniss, but this is my fault.”

This gets my attention.  How could it be both our fault?   “Why?  What’s been on the tapes?”   “Until recently, nothing much that involved you.    Aurelius had to change the sequence when you dropped out, so there was a delay before he got back into it.   But then what he mostly sent was Peeta’s own game before you allied with him.  How he got in with the careers, the two of you in the training centre, that sort of thing.  But the last one . . .  It was the interview you both did with Caesar after you won the Games.  He asked if it was part of the act.  And I told him that you were acting, but he wasn’t.   And then, later on the train journey home, why I told the two of you to keep up the act a little longer.  That it was to give you an out – so that you wouldn’t have to keep up the pretense once the cameras were gone.”   I think back to the Caesar Flickerman interviews after Peeta and I won the Games.  I’d played the romance angle for all it was worth, and thought Peeta was doing the same. But what had been a strategy for me, had been real for him.  When the truth came out, it caused a rift that wouldn’t heal until we were forced back into each other’s company for the Victory Tour.   “What did he say?” I ask. “Nothing!  Not one question, except to ask if I wanted another drink.  But his face had gone white, as if he’d just received bad news.    And then he left the room.  And when he came back a few minutes later with a pot of tea, he was normal again.” He stops his pacing for a moment.  “I don’t even drink tea,” he adds as an afterthought. 

“But that shouldn’t have upset Peeta.  He knew I was acting, and last I heard, he thought he was too.  The worst that could have happened is that he’s gone back to thinking it was an illusion, rather than an illusion of an illusion.   You know, that he did feel love for me, but it was based on an illusion.”  I give my head a shake to clear it.   “I mean, it still doesn’t count.  And, even if it did, I don’t see how it would make him propose to Lace.” I hear a note of hysteria creep into my voice. The numbness is starting to leave and feeling is coming back.   Despite my wet, dirty clothes, I unhook my fingers from the back of the chair and sit down on its padded seat.  My legs are having trouble keeping me up. “He could have dropped the illusion thing altogether and now believes that what he felt for you was real, even if you didn’t return it,” he says. “But that still doesn’t explain anything. Even if he thinks it was real, it doesn’t mean he still feels it.  Why would he marry Lace, if he’s in love with me?” And then it dawns on me.  He wouldn’t.   Peeta is following his own inclinations. He wouldn’t marry one girl, if he was in love with another.  He has his parent’s unhappy marriage as an example of how disastrous that can be.  The girlfriend thing, the proposal, was simply Peeta’s need for my permission to move forward.  Without his memory, he would have had no way of deciphering the real from the not real.  So, he looked to me to either confirm or deny before he made any decision that would contradict the stories he’s been told.   Haymitch’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Who knows what’s going on in the boy’s head? All I know is that what’s in there is either incomplete or distorted.  This method of feeding him odd bits of his past hasn’t worked.” He stops his pacing to stand in front of me.  “You have to tell him.  Everything. Hold nothing back.” “No!  No. Absolutely not,” I say in horror. “I told you.  He’s not in love with me.  He told me he’s not.  Hasn’t it been bad enough that I’ve had to watch him with Lace?  That everyone I meet wonders why Peeta dumped me for her? Now you want to add another layer of humiliation. He’ll just tell me it’s her he loves.   Peeta mightn’t have all his memories, but he knows what he feels.  I know him.  He wouldn’t marry unless he had given his whole heart.  He saw how miserable his parents were.”   Haymitch snorts in frustration.  “He wouldn’t if he was thinking straight.  Well, I can’t force you.  But I’m going to do everything in my power to dissuade him.  If you decide to get on board, let me know.” And with that, Haymitch is gone.   I sit awhile, lacking the energy to get up. Maybe, if I stay in this chair, and not move, the world can go on as its always done, while I can just sit here and not have to deal with it.   It takes a concerted effort to rise and trek upstairs to my bedroom to change out of my damp clothes.  From my window, I see white clouds scud across blue skies.  I hear birds chirp, as if in celebration of the coming spring. My eyes drift downwards, to the road outside my house.  Peeta is there, striding jauntily towards the town.  He’s happy.  Shouldn’t that be enough?  But when I lift my hand to my cheek, it comes away wet.   Chapter 19 Before I see Peeta the next day, I work hard at composing myself.  I want to be convincing when I tell him that I’m delighted that he and Lace are to marry. I’d seriously thought of sneaking out of the Village half an hour earlier to avoid him, but then decided it would only delay the inevitable and it was better to get it over and done with.   So here he is, waiting in his usual spot, at the usual time, sporting a bashful smile and, weirdly, sunglasses. It’s eight in the morning and a dull day.   When the usual pleasantries have been exchanged, Peeta, after a nervous cough, announces his engagement to Lace. “There’s going be a toasting. I’ve asked Lace to marry me.” I fix a smile to my face.  If I pretend that I’m in front of a Capitol audience, I can get through this.  It doesn’t have to be real.  People see what they want to see.  “That’s wonderful news!” I gush.  “Congratulations.”   “Thanks,” he says. “I know it’s sudden.   But I feel so good when I’m with her.   And, as you said, we don’t know how much time any of us have, so we should make the most of it.   Besides, how many times does a person get to fall in love?” I should be used to it by now.  But it’s like I’ve been erased.  And it hurts.  “It varies. For most people, more than once,” I say. I don’t think Peeta hears, or if he did, he ignores it, because he continues as if I hadn’t spoken.  “Lace’s family is coming in August, so we’ll have the wedding then.   Her brother and his wife are already here, and there’s a friend in 8 who’ll want to come. So that’s quite a few people from her side.   Not many from mine, though,” he says sadly.  “Delly’s the only childhood friend I still have and she’s in 6.   I want to ask Haymitch to stand for me.  Eight has a tradition where one member from each family welcomes the new member into it.  Haymitch is the closest I have to a father now.”  I don’t remember that tradition at Sateen’s wedding.  Perhaps it was during the speeches.  There were so many that I tuned out on most of them. “I’m sure Haymitch would be happy to,” I say. Haymitch won’t be, but I’m positive he won’t refuse.  He’ll think it’s more important to be there for Peeta than ever, but he’ll be fighting it all the way.   “This is where it gets awkward,” Peeta says. “I know it’s strange with the star-crossed lovers and everything.   And technically you are my ex-fiancée.   But Katniss, I’d love you to be there.  If it’s OK with you, that is.” I can hardly believe my ears.   What, now it gets awkward?  I’ve been living with awkward since he got back to 12.  That horse bolted long ago.  His open affection for Lace, their frequent public appearances, his sidelining of me in preference for her.  He can’t not know this, if he’s worried how their wedding will affect me.  And technically I’m his ex-fiancée?  I was his fiancée, no technically about it.  From some place deep inside, something rises and expands, like yeast in bread dough.  I knew this meeting would take all my self-control to get through it.  But I thought I’d be battling heartbreak. Instead, I’m fighting anger.   “Look,” he continues, “I understand if it would be strange or uncomfortable for you to be there.  I don’t even know if it’s proper to ask you, given how I used to feel about you, even though I don’t remember it.”  Not proper to ask me?  Had he really thought about not inviting me?  I thought we were friends.   “I won’t be offended if you say no, and I only want you to be there if you feel comfortable.   I had to ask you, because if you do feel OK with it, I’d like you to be there.  But either way, you’re still one of my best friends.”   One of his best friends.  Thanks, Peeta.  I swallow hard and force a smile.  “Of course, I’ll be there, Peeta,” I say, as evenly as I can.  “In fact, I can’t wait to dance at your wedding.   And there’s no need to worry about me feeling uncomfortable.  I’m very comfortable with how things have turned out.”   Peeta’s bright smile falters.   I can’t see his eyes because they’re hidden behind his sunglasses.   “Do you mind if I run ahead?” I ask.  “I forgot that I need to be at the school a bit earlier today. Staff meeting.” Before he can answer, I’m halfway down the road.  When I get closer to the town, alternative routes open up, and I take one that Peeta doesn’t use.  My feet slow to a walk, and I take deep breaths to calm myself.   Grr! The arrogance of the man!  To assume that I’m so broken up over our former engagement that I can’t bear to be present at his wedding.  Well, of course I have to be at the wedding.  People will talk even more if I’m not.  But after that I want nothing more to do with him. Or her.  And I’m not leaving the Village either.  They can be the ones to leave if they find it too awkward.  Both of them belong in the town, anyway.   My anger helps sustain me throughout most of the day, preventing any descent into melancholy, but by the time I’ve come home and eaten my dinner, I’m feeling down again.  It really is over then.  I’ve lost the boy with the bread.  My dandelion in the spring.  The boy who said that without me, he’d never be happy again.

The phone rings, jarring me back to the present. It’s Dr Aurelius.  An unusual time to call, since it’s after hours.   Peeta must have called him and told him what happened today.  He’s checking up on me, to make sure I’m OK.  I give my side of it, convinced that Dr Aurelius will disapprove.

“What did you feel?” he asks. I dig around inside myself and find the usual emotions when I think of Peeta.  Longing, sadness, hopelessness, and anger too.   But there’s something else.  Something new. “I felt . . . empowered,” I say, finally finding the right word.   What I said to Peeta wasn’t the truth, but I’m determined that it will be.  And what’s more I said it to him.   It was me declaring my independence.   And it felt good.  Really good.

“Maybe that’s something to think about, going forward,” he says. 

Dr Aurelius’ words stay with me over the following days. It occurs to me that perhaps this is what he’s had me working towards with Peeta.  To come to a place where I can be at peace with how things are and even see it as a positive thing in my life.  And, I have to admit, Peeta’s not the boy I fell in love with.  Something has been lost along with his memories.  A certain perceptiveness and sensitivity.  Well, when it comes to me, at least. Haymitch isn’t happy with me.  Peeta told him of my reaction to his upcoming nuptials. “I’m trying to get him to see that he’s doing the wrong thing, and you’re telling him you can’t wait to do the funky chicken at his wedding.” “I did not say that!  I said – “ Haymitch ignores me.  “He’s had a relapse.  He’s right back to how he was.  Worse.  At least then he approached everything with caution.  Now he’s rushing headlong into this thing as if his life depends on it.”   He looks at me accusingly.  “Did you know he’s booked the ballroom at the Town Hall?”  That’s where the Mayor’s party was held.  Maybe he wants to sneak off with Lace during the reception for a bit of post-wedding sex. “It will cost him a fortune.  And this girl seems to be encouraging him, as if he’s a bottomless pit of money.  He’s paying for every one of her relatives to come out too.” To be fair to Lace, the Capitol did exaggerate how wealthy Victors were.  But in fact, we got enough money to keep up appearances, but not so much that we could accrue large sums of it.  If what Haymitch says is true, then what Peeta has planned, will wipe out most, if not all, of his savings.

I run into Lace a few days later.   I’m on my way out of the Village when I hear her call my name.  There’s no way to avoid her.   She probably wants to gloat.  I school my face into an impassive mask and wait until she catches up to me.   “Katniss!  I’m so glad I caught you,” she says, clutching a hand to her chest.  It takes a few moments for her to catch her breath.  “I’ve been wanting to thank you.” I frown in confusion. “For what?” Lace beams at me. “For agreeing to be in the wedding.  Peeta was afraid you’d find it too awkward.  You know, with your past together as the star-crossed lovers.” She slips her arm through mine and I fight the temptation to throw it off.   “I’m so glad he did ask you and you agreed to come.  It means so much to him.  He holds you in such high regard.” 

High regard?  Is that what Peeta feels for me now?  High regard is respect and admiration, but it’s not affection or friendship.  I guess I should have expected it.  There’s been a steady downward progression, from love object to a “one of” friend to – what is it now? – a national monument? 

I take a hard look at the woman who’s clutching my arm. She’s smiling her girlish smile, and laughing her pearly laugh.   She’s very friendly all of a sudden.  She’s never come across as sincere to me, and she doesn’t now. There’s more to it than relief that I’m no longer a threat.   This is just too much, too soon.  She’s rubbing it in.  Even to repeating Peeta’s words that I’d find it too awkward.   They’ve both been carrying on in front of me for months and they didn’t care then.  You’d almost think they were hoping it would be, they love talking about it so much.  

I can do two things.  I can go along with it, and keep my true thoughts to myself, as I have mostly done so far.  Or I can take control.  Like I did with Peeta earlier in the week.

I hug her arm to my side and place my free hand over hers.  “Of course, I’ll be there,” I say, as if the alternative is just too ridiculous to contemplate.  “To be honest, it didn’t even occur to me that it might be awkward until Peeta mentioned it.  I just hope it’s not awkward for him.  Or for you.” Her smile slips a little.  I lean in closer, and lower my voice, as we if are girlfriends sharing a secret.   “People got very emotionally attached to the star-crossed lovers.  Some might not take it well, especially if they see you as having broken us up.  You know how people love to talk, and throw around blame.  They’ll probably hate Peeta too.  But I’m sure you’ll cope.  After all, it’s nothing you haven’t faced before, Tilly.” Lace tries to pull away but I tighten my hold to prevent her escape.  “You see, you need me to be seen at your wedding having a good time.  Because any hint that I’m heartbroken over it, like staying away, will make people hate you even more.   And I know what happened in 8 and who you really are.  But don’t worry, I’ve no intention of exposing you. It’s really no one’s business. But it is Peeta’s, and if you don’t tell him soon, I will.” She pulls harder this time and I loosen my grip.  I’ve said almost everything I want to say.  She stands a few feet away, her bright mahogany hair emphasizing her pallor, and two spots of anger rouging her cheeks. “One last word of advice,” I continue. “We Victors aren’t as rich as the Capitol had everyone believe.  So, unless you want to start married life with nothing left in the kitty, I suggest you try to curtail Peeta’s spending on this wedding.  Bakers don’t earn much, you know.  And there’s talk of stopping our pension.”  There isn’t really, but the opportunity to wind up Lace even more is too good to pass up.    I’ve felt powerless for so long.  It feels so good to take some of it back. I give her my best fake smile.  The one I perfected for the Capitol.  “Well, have a nice day.  I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.  Afterall, we’re going to be neighbours!” And leaving her with that cheery thought, I turn my back and head out for the town.   I want to punch the air in triumph, but it’s not long before the euphoria of victory fades.  There’s no getting away from it.  Lace is the real winner.  She’s got Peeta.   Max is already at the pub when I get there. It’s become a regular Saturday night outing.  Sometimes Moira or Milo join us, but most often they don’t, so it’s just Max and me and anyone we get talking to.  Lately, Arthur meets us here too.  I’ve decided to take him under my wing and make sure he gets out regularly.  I think Sateen would like it, and without her watchful eye, I’m more comfortable in his company now.  I feel a little guilty too. Without my interference, this wedding might not be happening.  I’ve ruined Arthur’s chances as well as my own.  But then, maybe they never existed in the first place.  Arthur seems to think so.  He took the news with magnanimity, as if he were expecting it.   Max, with his gregarious personality, has also managed to draw Arthur out more, and we discover that there’s more to him than just business.  He’s a great reader and can speak on a wide range of subjects.  He likes puzzles of all kinds, especially ones that involve piecing things together.  Maybe that’s why he’s so good at tailoring.  But most surprising of all, we discover that he’s an avid fan of “One Life to Live.”   Of course, Max has to scoff.  “That rubbish?  I don’t know how anyone with more than half a brain can stand to watch it.  I mean, who came up with the stupid idea of oil barons? There’s no oil drilling in 5. It’s all hydro and wind turbines. As for fraternizing between the districts, there was a great solid wall between 5 and 11.  You couldn’t even smuggle a banana through it.  And that they spent their free time attending balls and going to the theatre?” He gives his head a shake in disbelief. “Fuck, those fools in the Capitol would believe anything.” “You seem to know a lot about it for someone who doesn’t watch it,” I point out. Max is taken aback for a moment.  “Moira watches it.  I can’t help it if I happen to be in the room at the same time.”

“I actually find it a fascinating insight into the Capitol psyche.” says Arthur, as he puts down his drink.  He leans forward with the same intent expression he gets when he’s about to explain the complexities of factory management.  I think we’re in for a lecture. 

“So, what do think of the characters?” I say quickly to distract him.  “That Ginger’s a real bitch.”   “I think Ginger’s misunderstood,” says Arthur. “She’s seen as the villain because she appears to stand between Celia and Blake, when in actuality the only thing keeping them apart are themselves.  In fact, in some ways she’s a victim.” “How do you figure that?”  I ask.  As far as I can see, Ginger is in for what she can get.  She’s even so low as to pretend the baby she’s carrying is Blake’s.

“Because Blake is using her for validation and as a substitute for Celia.  He’s not really in love with her, even though he might tell himself that he is.  His self-image is of a man who’d be too honourable to use a woman like that.  His name isn’t Knight for nothing.” “But it’s not like it’s not mutual,” I argue. “Isn’t Ginger using him too?  She wants him for his status and his connections. And she’s not even faithful to him. Not that I have a high opinion of Blake, either.  He tells Celia he loves her and then look how he shows it.  No wonder Celia is a mess and finds it hard to trust men.  They could all turn out like Blake, for all she knows.  One minute declaring undying love, the next getting it on with the town floozie.” “Floozie?” laughs Max.  “I didn’t think anyone still used that word.  Look, Celia told him she wasn’t in love with him, so what was he to do?  Be a hermit for the rest of his life?  It’s really her own fault.” “It is not!” I say hotly.  “She was confused.  She was an innocent young girl with no experience at that sort of thing. Blake caught her unawares.  And she broke it off for him.  His parents would never have allowed it.  The Knights hate the Chastleys.” “Well, how was he to know?  And what’s he supposed to think with all those men hanging around?  From his point of view, she’s moved on.” “But she hasn’t slept with any of them.  None of them have touched her heart like he has. And he . . . he’s about to get married. He just gave up on her.  He could have given it another try, at least.  He didn’t stop once to consider why she did it.”   I don’t know why, but I’m on the verge of tears.  I take a gulp of my drink in an attempt to cover it up. Max leans back in his chair and regards me quizzically over his glass.   I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.  As if knows something that I don’t.   “He’s not a mind reader.  And she doesn’t act like she’s in love with him.  Not when she’s around him, anyway.” “How can she?  When he’s got a girlfriend that he flaunts in front of her at every opportunity?  She’s trying to do the right thing, by letting him go.   And anyway, how could she ever feel the same way about him, now that he’s been with Ginger?” “She can’t.” says Arthur quietly.  I’d forgotten he was here.  “It changes their relationship irrevocably.  If they do get back together, it must be as two different people.”

“I don’t think they can get back together.  Not unless he breaks up with Ginger.  Celia won’t say anything while he’s with her.  I know I wouldn’t,” I say. “Celia just needs a good fuck,” says Max. I fix him with a steely look. “What? It’s obvious, isn’t it?  What’s Celia done but mope around the place, rejecting every man that shows an interest in her?  As far as she knows, it’s over with Blake.  And her reasons for breaking with him are still valid. So why not get on with her life? Blake did.”

“Blake’s not happy.  Not really.  I can’t say that “getting on with it” has done him much good,” I say.

“No, but at least he’s tried another relationship, even if it is doomed to fail.  Celia needs to do the same.  Look, as far as she knows, Blake is happy with Ginger, right?  So she’s achieved her goal.  And, if by some miracle, they do get back together, at least they’ll bring the same amount of experience to it.   Otherwise he’ll always be the one who broke faith, and she’ll be the one who didn’t try her wings when she had the chance.”

“I don’t know.  I think if you’re going to get involved with someone, it shouldn’t be to get over someone else.  That’s what Blake’s done.  Arthur, what do you think?”

Arthur blinks, as if he’s surprised to be asked, but he gives a considered response as he always does. “I think Celia should do whatever feels right.   And she may not know what that is until the moment strikes.”

“Be adaptable, in other words.  Be open to possibilities,” I say. 

Arthur nods.  “Yes,” he says. “Something like that.”  He gazes pensively into his glass of red wine.  I wonder if this talk has reminded him of Lace, and that this is advice he gives to himself.   In this moment, I resolve to help Arthur find those possibilities.  It’s the least I can do.  

Little Town (It's a Nosy Village)

Note: they're both babies (well, y'know, KIND OF) so Kitty's a little more reckless and Jonathan's accent is still very much a thing.

Jonathan privately considers Arlen to be the birthplace of every ‘small southern town’ stereotype. They’re spread out, but everybody knows everybody’s business, you go to church or else, and outsiders are welcomed in with wide smiles and gossiped about with wide eyes.

Well. Mostly. To a point. They’ve got their black side, and it’s larger than one would suppose, given the size of the place. Lobotomies happen-the last one he’s aware of took place when he was twelve. Too much of an outsider? You’ll be run out. Nothing so blatant as burning crosses or anything, just…social ostracization is a funny thing.

Why in the world the Richardsons moved here, of all places, is a mystery. They’re not churchgoers (Granny was horrified that her nearest neighbors were heathens), they’re not here for the farming opportunities (such as they are)…why.

He asked, once, out of genuine curiosity. It’s hot, it’s sunny, it’s so…small-town…it has no attraction whatsoever. Apparently Mr. Richardson was writing a book set in the area and wanted the peace. Jonathan doubts that-he was a government worker, for crying out loud-but he let it go. Selfishly, he’s glad. Their presence has granted him with what he hesitantly has dubbed a friend.

Kitty Richardson is five foot nothing of big eyes and freckles and giggling that he doesn’t try to understand. She is also, he has decided, fueled by sugar and Short Person Rage. Seriously, it’s the easiest thing in the world to tick her off. All one has to do is use her as an armrest.

Not that he would do that sort of thing, of course.

He’s read a couple of books involving multi-gendered friendships, and apart from the ridiculousness of ‘everybody decides to date at the end’, they also make the error of ‘good girl, idiot boy’.

This is a complete lie, and if he ever writes a book like that, he’s pointing that out. Kitty is always the one getting them into things. ‘Haunted bridge? Come on, let’s sneak out.’ ‘The fuck did you say about my chest, football player twice my height?’

No one believes him, because she’s tiny and because she’s very, very good at looking innocent and what-do-you-mean-I-didn’t-break-his-nose. Maybe he’s biased, but he thinks she could get away with murder, if she tried hard enough.

“Jonathan?” He blinks and looks down. “You okay?”

FINE FINE EVERYTHING’S FINE NO REASON TO DO SOMETHING STUPID.

“Just tired. Rain kept me up.” She doesn’t look convinced and he’s quick to run damage control. “I don’t think it’s rained like that since y’all moved in.”

He inwardly curses at the slip, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Good.

“Oh, good, so it doesn’t always rain like that.”

“We do get tornadoes.”

“What?” That was a squeak, and that was hilarious. “Tell me you’re joking. Please tell me you’re trying to see how much I’ll believe you.”

“No, we really do get tornadoes sometimes. Nothing awful, but…”

She stares at him in horror.

“I’m going to die.”

He nudges that mental image aside and crams the last of his books into his backpack. There. All set for the weekend, with a bit of light reading to do besides. If he gets any time, and if Granny doesn’t rifle through his backpack again.

He really, really hopes he doesn’t have to spend another night out There.

“Yeah, they might have to get you out of a tree.”

“I hate heights!”

“I really doubt you’d be conscious for that bit.” Or alive and he’d like to change the subject now, thanks. “Come on, a tree blew down last night, we have to take the long way home.”

The ground is squishy under their shoes, even after a whole day of sunshine. He wasn’t so lucky as to have the chapel catch fire, but the Higginson’s barn did-they barely managed to save the horse. Jonathan’s glad, on the horse’s behalf-it’s not her fault the owners are idiots.

And burning to death sounds like a horrible way to go.

They have to pass by the property on this route, and he can see the truck’s gone-probably into town proper for nails or somethin’. It could have been worse, as far as he can tell-the roof’s had, but the walls are still standing.

Kitty draws a sucker from her backpack, unwraps it, and waves it in front of him.

“Lick?”

“No, thank you.”

“Scared of cooties*?”

“Cooties are for children.” He leans back, spine cracking. “So are those, for that matter.”

“Only if you go to church.” she says innocently, pursing her lips around one side of it. It takes him a minute to realize what she’s implying and that mental image is going to be a bitch to get rid of. Thanks a lot.

“Kitty-!”

She cackles and promptly chokes. Serves her right.

The horse trots up to the fence. She looks none the worse for wear and she doesn’t shy back when he puts his hand out.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“Probably not.” he says absently, letting her blow on his palm before leaning over to pat her neck. “Hey there, big girl, you have a rough night?”

She snorts and shifts obligingly so she’s parallel to the fence. Kitty takes a step back.

“Does she bite?”

“Not if you’re careful. Want to pet her?”

She eyes the horse, clearly a little nervous, and finally nods before rewrapping her sucker and sticking it in her back pocket.

“If she bites me, I’m blaming you.”

He grins-this old nag hardly snaps at flies, in all reality-and motions her over. The horse turns her head, mildly interested in the new small creature in the road.

“Put your hand up like this, nice and flat…easy there, big girl, we’re not gonna hurt you…”

The horse bends her head down and nudges Kitty’s palm. Kitty giggles, more of a surprised sound than anything.

“That tickles!”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s, uh…really big.”

“You’re very small.” he points out. She shoots him a dirty look. “I’m just saying.”

The mare finally draws her head back and bends down, cropping the grass at the base of the fence. Kitty pops her sucker back in her mouth and looks at her.

“Does she have a name?”

“No idea.” He shifts his backpack to his other shoulder and leans over to pat her neck again. “Good girl.” There’s the sound of the Higginson’s truck-a rattling thing that’s held together through duct tape and prayer-and he steps back. “We should go. They’re…they don’t like me too much.”

“Does anyone?”

“No.”

She loops her arm through his and he wonders why.

“That’s not true.”

“Mm.” No, seriously, why are they now connected. “If you say so.”

“My mum likes you. She says you’re a good influence.” That’s a first, and he’ll be smug about it once he solves the riddle of Why Is She Touching Him. “And I like you, even if you are a goddamn telephone pole.”

Well, that’s nice-wait what he’s very confused.

Also, she’s still touching him and yes it’s nice but there’s no logical reason for it. Books did not prepare him for this. Help.

“Wait. How does she like me? I haven’t met her yet.”

“I’ve told her things.”

Oh god. Like what? What sort of things do normal people tell their guardians about their friends?

He’s doomed.

* * *

He’s not doomed, as it turns out. Mrs. Richardson is a plump woman, a little taller than Kitty (not hard), who practically wrestles him to the dining room table and informs him that he will eat something of his own violation or she will bring out the feeding tube.

“Mu-um-”

“You didn’t tell me this!”

“I did, stop scaring him!”

This has never happened to him before. It’s confusing and he’s starting to wonder if he hit his head or something.

“Oh, Kitty, don’t be dramatic. What do you want to drink, sweetie?”

“Uh, just water, I think-”

“You’re sure? It’s no trouble-”

No. He needs control over this situation.

“No, water’d be fine. Please.” She eyes him as though he might sprout an extra head, but brings him a glass of ice water all the same. “Th-thank you, Ma’am.”

“Don’t you Ma’am me. Mary is fine.”

That goes against everything he knows and it’s just not going to work out. Sorry, Ma’am.

“Mu-um…”

“All right, all right. Behave.”

And with that, she leaves the room and he’s left to wonder what just happened. He thinks he might have just been Mothered, and he’s not sure how to feel about it.

“Mum’s…used to getting her own way.”

Well. He can see where she gets it, then.

He nods, a little overwhelmed, and takes a sip of his water. It’s…nice…in here. Warm. Things aren’t falling apart and his usual where’s Granny and how mad do her footsteps sound senses are quiet.

“Are you eating anything?”

“Motherrrr!”

“I don’t hear chewing!”

Kitty buries her face in her hands and groans, “My god, she’s embarrassing.”

Lest she really have a feeding tube tucked away somewhere, he takes a cookie from the plate. It looks okay. It’s still a little warm between his fingers, even.

Kitty hooks an ankle around a free chair and drags it over to use as a footrest.

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a feeding tube.”

“Pretty sure?” The cookie’s not bad, and he’s relieved to find that it is indeed chocolate chip rather than deceitful bastard, raisin. “That’s…alarming.”

“She was a nurse. We may or may not have some things she borrowed from the hospital upstairs. In case of emergencies.”

“Feeding tube?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

Better be safe than sorry. He reaches for another cookie.

“I expect those cookies gone!” comes a shout from the other room. “Is that clear?”

“Watch your crap telly and stop trying to force-feed him from the living room!”

“Don’t make me come in there!”

That’s it. He knows what’s happened. Either he’s dead, or he’s dying and this is some strange dream.

“We’re eating, Mrs. Richardson.” There. Maybe that’ll placate her.

“Mary!”

Kitty plunks her head onto the table and reaches blindly for the plate.

“Kill me now.”

 *Kitty would more likely use the term dreaded lurgi, but we’ll say she picked up the ‘cooties’ term recently (because the comedic flow would be jarred otherwise, so sue me).