#(and i have so many plans! but! he is! uncooperative even to me! his player!)

[postmail]

Can't teach an old dog new tricks. Odele in particular is quite stuck in his ways, but at least he still manages to keep it somewhat unique each time.

[inkdemonapologist]

cONTINUING THE PLANNING FROM EPISODE NINE OF THE BENDY CTHLUHU GAME, we are all very good at being supernatural investigators, and definitely not just an animation studio that is way out of its league

A smattering of out-of-context quotes are under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Joey] Once Joey's pretty sure he has Henry's awareness he's just going to point-blank ask, "You smeared your blood on one of the symbols?!" [Sammy] (OOOOOHHHHHHH SOMEONE TATTLED ON YOU!!!)

[Joey] What was my starting sanity? [Sammy] 67. [Joey] Okay... so I need to lose, um... [GM] I love this phrasing. [Jack] I mean, I was literally counting it down and announced the final sanity loss with, like, an excited toot emoji!

[GM] I think Jack would have to cooperate to wake up, but I don't know why he wouldn't. [Jack] Hm...... 5 more minutes, Joey....... [Henry] Jack will wake up uncooperatively! [Sammy] Jack just sitting next to his body like "...No."

[Jack] Prophet Sam was doing his best! [Sammy] He was! [Sammy] He's always Doing His Best, (Derogatory)

[Joey] We did manage to transfer the Host marking before... so we might be able to transfer it to Doc Moonlight? [Henry] I'll just punch him in the face again! [Joey] nO, you don't get to punch him! I mean, you can punch him, but you're not-- No More Hosting For Henry!! [Sammy] and I'd rather not travel through time again, if it's all the same.

[Sammy] Also, sometimes Moonlight carries the stone on his person! So if we can just beat him up, take the stone AND take the staff, then that's two... birds with one........ stone.

[Sammy] They don't even know who Peter is, he's not special. [Jack] ...Jack thinks he's special... [GM] But you know, not in the magic blood, prophet eyes kind of way, [Jack] He's only just met Joey Drew, give him five minutes. [Sammy] Well SO far, it sounds like the winning plan is to go back to sleep!

[Sammy] *makes suggestion out of character* [Joey] That's a great idea, and Joey's going to steal it from you, and also pitch it to everyone else. [Sammy] (...JOEY DREW IS GOING TO STEAL IT FROM ME? THE PLAYER???)

[Henry] Henry will go wherever he is wanted... [Henry] ...or he'll take another nap. [Sammy] See if you can astral project somewhere useful! [Jack] He astral projects, and it's just to the shops to buy sunglasses.

[Jack] Jack might go along, especially if it's Sammy; like, Sammy doesn't have a great time talking to people anyway, and on top of that, "Last time I was here, I was a weird crazy cultist who was drinking paint!" -- he might want someone around who, theoretically, can speak! [Sammy] Sammy needs a chaperone anyway, just in case weird things happen. [Henry] Henry will come! Between him and Jack, hopefully one of them will be able to form coherent sentences! [Jack] They'll just trade off which one's dissociating! [Sammy] I can't believe Joey is leaving to buy sunglasses, and we need ALL THREE OF THE OTHERS, PUT TOGETHER, to equal Joey's force in talking.

[Joey] Hold on, I need to look something up really quick... NO! FUCK! Sharpies didn't exist until 1964. [Joey] I'm just trying to figure out what we can... dammit! Permanent markers in general didn't exist until 1952!!! [Sammy] You can buy normal ink, probably. [Joey] I guess, yeah... probably a brush too, I'm just making a grocery list now, ...do we want to get a mat, or do we want to put the binding circle on the inside of a jacket-- I'm sorry, I keep going back to the inside of jacket thing-- [Sammy] NO! Because then we have to get the jacket off of whoever it's on and-- look, it just seems inconvenient. You can roll up a mat and just carry it. You can have a messenger bag it's stuffed into, it's fine. [GM] I guess your hands are free, though... [Sammy] You can have a messenger bag it's stuffed into and then your hands are free!! [Joey] *still researching* Messenger bags did not exist until the 1950s, so those are also not an option. [Jack] We just need to put the binding circle on a pair of converse, clearly.

[Jack] Sammy can fast talk, it's just the wrong kind.

[Sammy] We suspect the ritual is the finale to their party. [GM, as Allison] She is impressed by their ambition, but she's like, "Well, we can't have that. That won't do." [Jack] (I LOVE ALLISON,) [Sammy] Sammy assures her it's actually a pretty sloppy operation. [Jack] From what we can tell, they don't know what they're doing. [Allison] Amateurs. Anyway, thanks for the update!

[Joey] It's just a little more money! [Jack] (distant sound of Grant sobbing) [Sammy] We gotta stop going on these trips; that's what's going to do Grant in. [Joey] Grant is actually the antagonist for the next scenario

[Jack] That's not supernatural, that's just Joey Drew. Supernaturally incompetent with money.

[GM] Everyone make a Spot (Hidden) check! [Sammy] (Okay, Norman, come out,)

[Jack] I thought you were going to say that Henry makes the cat activation noise. [Sammy] How many different things can we give Henry! WHAT SUPERNATURAL QUALITY WILL GIVE HENRY THE CAT ACTIVATION NOISE? [Jack] You need Sillytime for that, clearly! [Sammy] ...I don't know if Sammy makes the cat activation noise... [GM] The Fabled and Feared Sillytime Henry.

[Henry] I have to ask, has Peter been told about Bendy? [Joey] Kind of? [Sammy] Kind of.

[GM] You can trap people in it, if you get them to look through it into a mirror under the full moon? And with sunlight hitting it at the right angle under the new moon, you can get people out of it! [Sammy] OKAY, TIME TO LOOK UP THE PHASES OF THE MOON IN NINETEEN THIRTY FOUR

[Sammy] So basically, on Mardi Gras itself is when we can pull the family out. [Jack] Which would be a really great way of getting Fowler on our side, just be like, "Hey! Check out this neat party trick!"

[GM] Henry could've picked up two nightsticks. [Henry] Maybe he's just starting a collection! "These are all the things people have tried to kill me with." [Jack] You didn't keep the snake. Your collection is ruined. [Henry] Aw, it is, [Henry] It's always the one thing.

[Joey] Joey will have Sammy go down to meet him, since we didn't have our new room back then, and Sammy's apparently really good at scaring off cultists! [Sammy] Yeah, alright- [Joey] And while Sammy's doing that, he's going to have another shot of ink. [Sammy] Ah.

[Jack] Would they recognise Jack's new hat at this point? He was wearing Pete's hat in the swamp... [Sammy] COMPLETELY UNRECOGNISABLE

[olivinesea]

Oooh fun! Okay, do you have any headcannons or thoughts on a dyslexic Hotch? I feel like I never see dyslexia with any characters really, and I like the idea of him with it. And if you do and you want to write something about it, a dyslexic Hotch with the team (and them being the supportive and protective family they are?) Thank you! ❤️

I hope you have fun, wherever/whatever you’re doing!!

I love this so much!! Thank you :) okay I don’t have much personal experience with dyslexia so hopefully I get this decently accurate. The biggest thing that surprised me when I was doing a quick search is that it isn’t actually a matter of reading words or letters backwards? It’s more an inability to connect letters to the appropriate sounds or to break words up into component parts; a general phonological awareness struggle.

So, as with many things, it seems to me to be a matter of slowing down, learning at your own pace. This ties in nicely with so many of my other Hotch thoughts, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Idk what this is, it’s neither headcanon nor proper story but hopefully it’s something like what you were looking for:

When he’s a kid he gets called a slow learner due to his undiagnosed dyslexia. It was much less common to get that kind of diagnosis back then in general and I am sure his dad would have hated the idea of his son needing any kind of extra help. So he’s slow to speak, slow to learn how to read, has difficulty with numbers, absolutely hates being called on to read out loud because it’s actual torture and the other kids have no hesitation about laughing at him. So he becomes withdrawn, labeled a “bad kid,” stops trying because, fuck it, he never gets any kind of support, who cares right? It’s always a fight at home, he starts hiding his work, lying about his grades. This works for awhile bc his parents are distracted by other things. His problems are much bigger than grades by the time they do notice.

However, while he hates school and the way people talk about him and his struggles, like he isn’t even there, he discovers that he doesn’t hate learning. There’s a small library in town where he found he could hide out, no one bothering him for hours if he just sat still for with a book open. He was good at sitting still, at being invisible. But eventually a librarian notices that he’s always got the same book open, some sort of technical manual, that he is rarely turning the pages. She asks him if he likes what he’s reading. He’s just alarmed to be spoken to, afraid that being noticed means he will soon no longer have this sanctuary. He nods and tries to bluff his way through but it’s obvious he hasn’t read it, despite having looked at it for weeks straight. The librarian doesn’t say anything outright, just lets him be for now.

Next time she sees him she brings him a different book, a collection of Grimms fairy tales. He wants to complain that it’s for little kids but is too nervous to refuse it. She asks if she can read him her favorite story from it. It’s dark and twisted and fantastical and he can’t help but be drawn in by it. He’s sad when she’s done reading, wants to hear it again, to capture all the details to replay to himself later. She shows him where it starts, encourages him to read it himself. He doesn’t look at her bc he doesn’t want her to see how upset he is by that, already frustrated by the anticipation that he won’t be able to get through it. But she stays with him, helping him where he gets stuck, asking him questions about the story, making sure it’s making sense to him.

They slowly work their way through the whole collection over the course of months. They spend days on each story, repeating it until he’s confident, she never makes him feel like he’s taking too long or wasting her time. Sometimes has to reread a section multiple times, gets hung up on the language rather than the story but it’s okay, she gives him a notebook to copy down parts that spin too loudly in his mind, saving them and also releasing him from their hold so he can move forward. She lets him keep the book, tells him it was too old to stay in circulation anyway, they had a new copy on order already. She’s the first person who was patient with him, that showed him he could do it, he just needed a little more time, a little more practice than other kids.

In college this is part of why he spends so much time at the library. Part of it is his natural inclination to overwork himself, push until he’s given more than he can in hopes that it might be almost enough. He knows he’s never been enough, why would that change just because he’s in a new place? But the other part is he simply needs more time to get through the coursework, to make it through the excessive amounts of reading he’s assigned. Some other students don’t even bother to read but he would never do that, he makes sure that he not only reads every chapter assigned but he reads it again, takes notes, highlights, annotates, does everything in his power to be prepared. Sure he might work himself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where he makes himself sick (though he’ll try to deny that too) but he’s never caught trying to read something while others wait for his answer, the letters and sounds meaningless, slipping away from him faster the more eyes he feels turn towards him, wondering what could be taking so long. No one ever gets the chance to laugh at him for being slow in college, he never allows them to see that side of him.

As an adult, the leader of the BAU, he’s too well respected for anyone to dare laugh at him but he still hates feeling unprepared. This ends up looking like long nights in the office, reviewing case files to the point of memorization, so that he won’t have to read any of it in front of his team. He can if he has to, he’s developed skills over the years, ways to calm the panic that only makes it harder, can fake it well enough that no one would really notice. Until one day, distracted by a migraine and the fallout of some fight with Haley, he gets stuck. He can’t remember something and he tries to read the sentence that has the information but the stupid word just won’t resolve into sounds that make sense and he just stops talking. He’s glaring at the form like it might catch fire. No one says anything for a moment while he tries to refocus, tries to work around echoes of laughter, decades long past but always ready to jump out at him if he lets his guard down, allows a mistake, a tired moment to derail the image of perfect competence that he’s built around himself. Penelope jumps in, finishing the thought, completing the list of traits shared by the victims. He forces himself to smile at her because he really is grateful, it wasn’t her fault. She scrunches her nose at him, dismissing his silent thanks with a toss of her head. It was nothing, everyone needs a little assist now and then.

No one brings it up and he doubles his efforts not to let anyone see. But he’s so tired on the plane coming back from a case, he’s been staring the same forms for an hour at least. He can feel his ears turning red with frustration. There’s really no reason he has to do this now but the fact that his mind is refusing, almost seems to be teasing him, makes him dig in harder. Emily sits down opposite him, pulling the folder away without asking. He’s about to say something sharp, something he’ll regret saying to her when he really means it for himself, but the expression on her face is so odd, smiling with a frown between her eyebrows. It isn’t pity, she respects him far too much, but there is curiosity and something else, something soft.

“Drink with me.” She slides him a glass and they don’t talk, just look out the window, look at the light playing off the ice in their glasses. He doesn’t see the file again until it appears on his desk, every form neatly filled out, the places needing his signature flagged. All but the last spot, where she’s signed his name eerily perfectly, difficult for even him to see that it’s not his own. Just so he knows she can if she wants to. Equal parts offer and threat.

Penelope and Reid start a book club. Derek joins right away. Emily rolls her eyes when she’s invited, muttering something about spending her free time on more work but they know she will join. Rossi flat out refuses to read the books but offers his house for meetings. Hotch hesitates, wanting to say yes but nervous to commit to an activity like that. He loves books, loves to talk about books. He doesn’t love a time limit on books.

The next time they have to drive to a case, Derek puts on a copy of the audiobook. It’s the first time they make it to a destination without any bickering from the backseat. They don’t get through the whole thing but later he finds a copy of the audiobook on his desk, complete with a disc player and headphones.

A different month, Reid tells him about how his mother always used to read him books and somehow finesses an offer to read to Hotch without him even realizing he’s accepted it. So Spencer comes in to Hotch’s office on lunch breaks occasionally and reads to him whatever the book of the month is. He loves it, remembering the first person who read to him, how shocked he’d been to be treated with patience, with understanding and wondering how he got so lucky to be surrounded by people like her, so ready to support him, wanting him there with them rather than off alone, uselessly fighting with himself to prove his self sufficiency over some uncooperative letters.

Okay, that was so much more than I was planning on but here we are. I hope you liked it and thank you SO much for the idea. If you ever have any others you want to share I am totally here for it. :)

Send me requests!

[nanakibh]

Tokimeki★Final Fantasy Madouin Perystilium Suzaku ~May the Crystal guide me to love★~

※ THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. ※

A fake project presented on the Square-Enix channel broadcast in September 2012, this is the apparent precursor of the popular fictional YA novel series "Tokimeki★Akademeia" which appears in Final Fantasy Agito. (Which began its own development in September of the same year.)

The following is a translation of the slides presenting the characters and details regarding this fake game.

If you’re a Type-0 fan, this is probably the deepest layer of the iceberg. Enjoy.

Introduction

Khalia Chival XXV, the heroine who recently enrolled, is currently the only female cadet at Akademeia. Entrusted with a "certain role", she encounters cadets with unique personalities as she goes about her everyday school life.

What kind of predicaments await in her future?! And what is the tragic destiny she's shouldering?! May the Crystal guide her through her dokidoki school life!

--

The following are plans for the game

--

◆ Khalia's Destiny

The female protagonist's true motive is revenge.

She was once told the story of the tragic death of her ancestor, Khalia Chival VIII.

She bears the sad destiny to eradicate the descendants of Class Zero in order to avenge her family.

◆ A Day's Schedule

- Wake up - Breakfast in the cafeteria - Class - Lunch break - Afternoon mission - Dinner - Bedtime

◆ Days off (Weekend) are allowed to be spent freely

- Wake up - Breakfast in the cafeteria - Free to do whatever you want - Dinner - Bedtime

◆ ATB System

In this game, the protagonist performs various actions which are all advanced via the ATB system.

- Active Time Lesson - Active Time Talk - Active Time Battle - Active Time Lecture

◆ Active Time Lesson

Active Time Lessons begin when class starts. Do your best to not be outdone by other students by making full use of your magic and abilities to solve the teacher's rapid fire questions.

◆ Active Time Talk

You can interact with NPCs during your free time. These conversations are also managed with the Active Time system.

Grasp your conversation partner's mood and favorite subjects to create an enjoyable back-and-forth to deepen your relationship.

◆ Active Time Battle

Active Time Battles are fought with ATB commands. This will be used in training exercises and other battles. With this system, you'll never lose a battle in this game. You can fight together with the boys you meet by adding them to your party. If one of your party members is knocked out, your other acquaintances will appear one after another to fight.

If you run out of boys, you should run away. You'll definitely be safe that way. This is because the rate of escape in this game is 100%.

◆ Active Time Lecture

If you don't follow school rules, you'll be reprimanded by Kurasame-sensei.

Even when you're being scolded, you can have an Active Time conversation.

- If you're discovered while trying to sneak into the boys' dorm at night, you'll be scolded by Kurasame-sensei.

- If you dress inappropriately, you'll be scolded by Kurasame-sensei.

- If you talk to Kurasame-sensei too much at school, you'll be scolded.

--

Character Introductions

--

Khalia Chival XXV Class: Zero CV: Nishi Asuka (西 明日香)

"I'm going to do my best! Because I want to see everyone in Orience smile!"

The main character. A hardworking, somewhat withdrawn girl. She infiltrates Akademeia to fulfill her mission to eliminate the bloodline of her family's sworn enemy, Class Zero. Through her encounters at the academy, she is torn between her destiny and love.

Aoi Futatsuboshi Class: Second CV: N/A

"The Crystal's guidance... That's just a load of nonsense. The Crystal won't protect you..."

A calm and serious honor student. He is a member of Class Second, known for being at the top in terms of combat strength. However, because of this, he has lost many friends and has adopted a cold attitude to hide his sadness. At first, he acts unfriendly towards the heroine, but as they grow closer, his true feelings come out.

Yotsuba Tokijiku Class: Fourth CV: N/A

"You're trying too hard on your missions. Here, I'll cast Cure for you. Let me take a look."

He gives the impression of someone who's blunt and difficult to get along with, but he's actually an extremely considerate young man. Belonging to Class Fourth which specializes in healing magic, he aims to become Agito because he wants to save everyone. He takes care of the heroine any way he can while she's still getting used to Akademeia.

Mowegi Itsukaichi Class: Fifth CV: N/A

"*yaaawn*... Huh~? Hey, have you seen a pink moogle doing a backflip around here~?"

A mysterious boy who always seems to be sleepy. He never remembers who other people are and constantly makes airheaded remarks, so he does poorly in class, but he demonstrates his genius ability in real combat. The heroine, who he met while taking a nap, is one of the few people whose face and name he can remember.

Sakurano Nanafusa Class: Seventh CV: N/A

"What's with the gloomy face? C'mon, get on my Chocobo!"

He greets the heroine, who is new to Akademeia, in a casual and friendly way. Obsessed with Chocobos, he promotes the Chocobo Research Club, also known as the "Choco Club", where he studies Chocobo physiology. He's sensitive about his height, so mentioning it is forbidden.

Note: This seems to be the same "Choco Club" Izana asks Player to join in FF Agito.

Kohaku Kokonoe Class: Ninth CV: N/A

"Were I to describe you... You are my Megalixer. You will shine radiantly in the final battle!"

A handsome young man from an esteemed family, he's expected to have a promising future as an elite...... But he's kind of overly self-conscious and has an unfortunately strange way of thinking. He has his eye on the heroine and is always exuding an absolutely bizarre energy. In actuality, he's a member of Class Ninth, which takes on Akademeia's "dirty work." His lighthearted attitude is a response to the melancholy missions he must carry out.

Mashiro Tootoichi Class: Eleventh CV: KENN

"Watch this! My Flare Bullets will hit their break sights! ...YEOWCH IT’S HOT?!"

The king of inventions who's always getting ahead of himself. As part of the research class, Class Eleventh, he spends his time working day and night to develop new weapons, though his skill isn't quite up to par yet. He even carelessly loses control of his magic and gets the heroine involved in his mess?!

Asagi Hitotose Class: Twelfth CV: Hiroki Yasumoto (安元 洋貴)

"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from talking in the Crystarium. If you are truly a cadet like me, then behave in a manner befitting of Agito."

Although he's a straight-laced person who receives excellent grades, his uncooperative personality is his downfall, earning him a place in "the oddball group", Class Twelfth. His thorny words make it easy for him to be misunderstood, but he isn't trying to be malicious. He's simply awkward. As a result, he's concerned about having no friends. He gets along with the heroine on a mission, but he just can't express himself...

---

What's in a name?

The names of these cadets seem to be referring to their class number and mantle colors.

Aoi: Blue Futatsuboshi: From "futatsu", two

Yotsuba: Four-leaf Tokijiku: (Not sure. May literally mean “time axis.”)

Moegi: Light yellowish green Itsukaichi: From "itsu", five

Sakurano: From "sakura", pink cherry blossoms Nanafusa: From "nana", seven

Kohaku: Amber Kokonoe: Ninefold

Mashiro: Pure white Tootoichi: Literally "Ten and one"

Asagi: Pale blue-green Hitotose: Literally “one year” or “some time ago"

--

To wrap it up...

--

◆ Girls-Only Gathering Transmissions

With "Girls-Only Gathering Transmissions" female players can improve their girl skills! When you have a girls-only gathering, your girl power will greatly increase instead of being depleted.

When girl power goes up... 1. If you receive a gift item from a male character who likes you, the real item will be delivered to you.

When girl power goes up even more... 2. You can purchase items from Amazon with the gil you've obtained in-game.

◆ Product Information

Compatible Hardware: Smart phones Development Engine: Luminous Studio Release Date: TBD Estimated Price: TBD

※ THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

Active Talk Preview Image

Event/Cutscene Preview Image

That's all! Thank you very much!

Production Department 1 Tabata Team

[katara0524]

Impromptu Ramblings about the NEO:TWEWY Demo

In case y'all weren't aware, I've been a pretty big fan of TWEWY for a couple years now, and with the sequel coming out next month, the excitement I feel for this game is greater than ever :) I played the Demo for the first time yesterday, and following a couple views of some livestreams of others playing it, I felt like sharing my (very ramble-y) thoughts prior to the release of the full game. This post WILL contain spoilers for both TWEWY and NEO:TWEWY, so if you want to avoid those from now on, please block the tags: #twewy spoilers, #ntwewy spoilers, #neo twewy spoilers, #ntwewy, and #neo twewy ^_^ Oh, and if you wanna keep up with any other posts I make about my experience with this game, please refer to the tag "kat plays neo twewy" :)

-First things first: I have not watched the Final Trailer and I don't plan on doing so to avoid spoilers, especially after the pre-release era of KH3 where a lot of the later trailers spoiled a lot of the endgame content. That being said, I've seen some minor screenshots from the final trailer including what many believe to be characters from the original TWEWY, namely Shiki and Joshua. That is all I know about the Final Trailer and I would very much like to remain as blind as possible going into NEO :)

-The very first cutscene was quite ominous in the sense that this game is likely going to be about "changing fate" (a recently common theme in Squeenix games, which I do appreciate), perhaps leading off from the end of A New Day in the OG and trying to stop an Inversion of Shibuya. Also worth noting that A New Day had similar aspects in which the main character experienced "future visions" of tragic events, although in A New Day these events were not able to be changed, while in NEO it seems like one of the main "powers" our protagonist has is specifically to rewrite these events and avoid a "bad ending." Very interesting indeed!

-I really like the revamped comic book style dialogue scenes, it's much more fluid and modern, which is an excellent direction for the series to take!

-I would love to have an actual PokemonGO knockoff of Final Fantasy creatures, please Squeenix that would be incredibleeeeee

-Also the LINE stickers??? Are so cute???

-I would just like to point out that Fret is an absolute treasure throughout this entire demo, he's hilarious and I will protect him with my life

-UHHHH don't like that Fret picked up some Reaper Pins just out of nowhere.....or the fact that they're apparently popular all over Shibuya.............did y'all not learn anything from the OG game or what lmao

-Okay so when I first got the "curry or ramen" scene and heard NPCs talking about the new curry place replacing the old ramen place I became IMMENSELY distressed that Ramen Don was totally cut from the game because....well, Ramen Don is a King okay?? But I'm glad to learn that no, he didn't fall off the face of the earth, he's still in business and he's the one opening the curry restaurant lolol. PHEW, crisis averted!

-.....I don't like the sudden appearance of a Wall Reaper and being able to read NPC thoughts. Wtf happened when they left the ramen place??? Are they playing the Game alive somehow?

-Okay so I have my own theories about this "Swallow" character and what they're up to but considering this is only the Demo and I still Have No Idea What's Happening, I'm just gonna say that I think Swallow intentionally led Rindo and Fret to the Crossing so they could join the Game. I mean, add in the fact that Swallow still communicates with Rindo during the Game and you've got yourself a suspicious character right there lol

-"Hey they're shooting off fireworks!" Fret honey that's not fireworks oof (see also: "*laughs* I'm in danger")

-WOOOOOO way to traumatize Rindo right off the bat like that LMAOO

-The visuals for the intro are VERY GOOD, the song is pretty decent until it gets all "screamo" (which I absolutely cannot stand sorry lol)

-Shoka is every Customer Service employee ever and I respect that

-Susukichi went from being "meh" to "WOW THIS GUY IS FUN" in the span of 10 seconds and I also respect that (he is also built like an Absolute Unit which is hilarious)

-The Wall Reapers (and just Reapers in general) seem.....way nicer and more helpful this time around?? Like in the OG the Wall Reapers were SO RUDE gfhjgjdfkhn and yeah I'm sure we'll get some like that but the juxtaposition of the first Wall Reaper in the OG compared to the first one in NEO is insane.

-The puzzles are quite a bit more entertaining this time around even if it's generally the same "fetch quest" formula lol

-"Rindo's Group" way to go Fret HFKJDGHSDFKJ mans really left the default name in there lmao

-OKAYOKAYOKAY so to those who aren't aware I am a MASSIVE SIMP for Sho Minamimoto, he's my absolute favorite and I think about him daily. HIS INTRODUCTION IS. INCREDIBLE. I LOVE IT SM.

-GOD hearing him actually SPEAK FULL SENTENCES is just SO SURREAL I love this sm

-Also the remix of his theme???? NEO TRANSFORMATION????? IT'S SO GOOD????????? It's like gone from a Boss Theme to a more triumphant sounding theme and I am HERE for it (every version of Transformation is just INCREDIBLE and getting a new one is even better)

-I Love Him, Your Honor

-Also idk how exactly but it's kinda weird seeing Sho in the OG vs NEO, cuz while he's mostly the same Insane Math-Obsessed Catboy, he's.....calmed down quite a bit?? Like OG made a whole point of how poorly he cooperates with others (not to mention just being completely unhinged and trying to kill everyone), whereas here in NEO he's......actually kinda working with others??? HELLO???? Sir what happened to you and Neku during those 3 years I would love to know all about it

-I guarantee you Sho is still probably scheming shite and will likely pull some total insane BS later down the road, and I am very much looking forward to that. Also, is he looking for a certain Pin or something??? Cuz he keeps talking about different Pins and even mentions "this is just another Psych Pin" like he's actively looking for a Pin to do something with. Maybe it also has to do with the "latent powers of Players" thing he mentioned as well??? What is this dude UP TO oml (also is he in contact with Neku at all?? they're both technically fugitives at this point right?? WHAT HAPPENED AFTER A NEW DAY I AM BEGGING YOU)

-I seems like Sho ALSO has an idea of what's going on in this specific game (even if he won't admit it straightforward). Per his quote "The game's 142,857. Factor it out," he's essentially saying, "This game is a neverending cyle, figure out how to get out of it" (or at least that's what I got from his "cyclic number" nonsense lolol)

-I do like how Sho mostly stays out of sight until he's needed for a battle or assisting with a mission, that's kind of on par with his whole "uncooperative" quirk from the OG, plus he might literally have to stay out of sight of other Reapers and Players considering he's likely breaking the rules of the Game (not surprising considering him and Neku broke practically every rule in the book during OG)

-The nicknames for Sho- I can't- They're so FUNNYYYY GFHJSDFKJ

-He goes from being called "Pi-Face" and "Tabooty" in OG to "Mr. Minami" and "M-Teezy" in NEO LMAOO

-(Wowee I just realized I've been mostly talking about Sho oopsies sorry y'all, this is what I meant by thinking about him almost daily he is THAT much of a fav of mine ghfkjsd)

-Okay RIP Fret and Rindo for not getting literally ANY explanation as to how the Game works OOF, that is kinda cringe that whoever gets the Pin earns points, not whoever erases the Noise (which like I understand but also URRRGGHHH I WANNA SEE THE SQUAD SUCCEED)

-"I should be going home now it's getting late" Oh you sweet summer child-

-Also love the mention of parents in this game???? KH you could learn a thing or two from TWEWY (poor Rindo's mom fhgjkdh)

-KUBO IS HILARIOUS I SUPPORT HIM AND HIS GROSS FACE (also thank you Final Trailer thumbnail for spoiling my suspicions about him very cool smh)

-Kaie is a LAD I also support him, go King type those funky texts I believe in you

-FRET PLS STOP SCANNING FHGJKSDHKJFGHFKJ he's like me when I scan in OG during Weeks 2 and 3 and see Taboo Noise coming after me ghfjdshfj

-Also Rindo can you stay off your phone for TWO SECONDS ik you're trying to figure things out but Fret is a jelly boi and I don't want him to be upset with you my guy

-Sho being an actual sorta mentor to the kiddos?? Who are you sir this is so unlike you ghfgskj what happened to the guy who tried shooting children in the face 8 times over LMAO (granted he's probably just using them but it's still nice to see him actually cooperating and sharing knowledge with the kiddos aaaaa)

-EYO EIJI OJI THE TIKTOK INFLUENCER IS BACK LMAO

-hgjkfshgkjf "we aren't glorifying capitalism on my watch" THATS SO FUNNY TO ME GFHJFSDGHJKS (also an all-orange ensemble is disgusting you deserve jail for one thousand years fkn Cheddar Goldfish Cheezit ass woman)

-WICKED TWISTERS NAME DROP EYOOO we love to see it

-gfhsgjf Poor Rindo embarassing himself for the sake of the Game that's incredible

-R e t u r n t o M O N K E. That is all.

-Dialogue during boss battles is HELLA cool i love that

-HHHHH THE KANON SCENE MADE ME A N G E R Y FRET STOP SIMPING MY GUY says the girl with a Literal Simp Encyclopedia and simps for pixels on a screen daily

-Can't wait to see the other Reapers :eyes emoji:

-CAN'T WAIT TO SEE NAGI MY BELOVED YEAHHHH WOOOOOO AAAAND that's about it for the demo lolol, I absolutely CANNOT wait for next month, this game is gonna be INCREDIBLE holy hell Prepare for more simping, more screaming, and more vibing from Yours Truly :) I fully intend on sharing more general thoughts like this on both Tumblr and Twitter so it's not just reblog-retweet-reblog-retweet with the occasional comment fhgskjd

If you wanna witness my insanity up close and personal I have a Square Enix Discord server called Sea Side Dreamers! You can look it up on Disboard, or you can add me on Discord @Katara0524#9244 for a direct link :) We have topics about Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, NieR, and ofc TWEWY (as well as other topics!), so if you want some good ol' chaos and chitchat, you're more than welcome to join!

[coldshrugs]

thank you for this blessed template, @possumsunshine. this was so fun and cute, i couldn't resist after seeing it on my dash 💗

pulled a couple of answers from oc asks i've done recently because oof this got long.

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: alma greene

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual

Love interest: mason

Best friend: felix but also nate

Main skill: science/tech

Secondary skill: people/psychology

Main personality trait: tied for impulsive and sarcastic

Secondary personality trait: stubborn

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: she’s not a detective, but science skills

Relationship with Rebecca: very close, even with absences, but waning

Relationship with Bobby: college friend, currently hates him

Verda or Tina?: both

Murphy bite?: wrist

Murphy’s fate?: at large, babyyy

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: sanja

GENERAL

Name: alma eloise greene

Nickname: sweetheart/space girl by mason; sweetie by rebecca

Birthday: june 12th

Age: 29

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual (demiromantic??)

Hair color: dark brown

Eye color: dark brown, nearly black

Height: 5’1”

Piercings: ears, former nostril piercings

Tattoos: a small snail on her right arm, super cartoony spaceship and tractor beam over the words “i want to believe” on the back of her left calf

Clothing Style: “modern” i guess, according to the game. tbh i usually describe it as “too old to be an e-girl but too cute to care.” bleached denim, dark plaid, graphic crop tops, black vans or converse, thigh-high tights, etc etc

Apartment Style: cozy. did she find it on the side of the road or goodwill or an estate sale? if not, it’s probably not in her apartment.

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: science/tech

Second Skill: people/psychology

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: alma is wayhaven’s only forensic analyst because i refuse to let my black oc be a cop

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ in-game, she’s 100% there for her scientific prowess.

Murphy bite: Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: mason

Why them?: on a meta level: oh no he’s hot

but alma’s reasoning is that he’s very upfront about what he wants in the beginning and she’s never been pursued in such a way. It’s a bit of a rush and an ego boost for her at first. but mason’s loyalty very quickly becomes the steadiness alma’s been missing for most of her life and she latches on to that. she’s not had someone so dependable around in… well, ever. and her physical attraction becomes emotional VERY quickly.

Bold, shy, or mixed?: shy until they sleep together, then a mix of bold and genuine afterward.

What were their first impressions of each other?:

alma on mason: thought he was super attractive but that was quickly pushed aside by “holy shit, this guy’s an ass.” she thinks he’s an uncooperative jerk that only cares about himself for quite a while, honestly. she asks him along for things she wants to do alone precisely because she thinks he’ll be the most likely to just stay out of her way. she’s surprised by his attitudes and opinions, and her incorrect assumptions about them, during those times.

mason on alma: would never, ever, ever admit that his first thought upon meeting Alma was simply “cute.” he quickly found parts of her to assess individually. those first few days were mostly spent appraising her physical attributes and watching her back when she needed it. mason did find her funny right away, but he wasn’t willing to trust someone new, regardless of that person being their handler’s daughter or not.

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?:

alma on mason: his eyes, freckles, and every single version of his smile. his decisiveness, differentially, and willingness to stab as a warning.

mason on alma: her hair tbh, there’s just… a lot of it. her hips, her eyelashes. He also likes her adaptability, sense of humor, and the warmth she gives with no expectation of reciprocation.

What do they do to spend time together?: lots of stargazing, lots of watching tv very quietly and making fun of the storylines they don’t understand until they get bored and make out instead, walking around the quieter parts of wayhaven or taking late-night drives.

What is their favorite memory together?: i like to think mason finds the carnival photo of them after the place has been sacked and gives it to alma sometime later. both the taking of the photo and the giving of it are very fond memories for both of them.

What are their love languages?: touch, quality time.

How do they handle being apart from one another?: badly. mason absolutely hates it after a time. if alma’s out of town, he’s in her apartment with the excuse of feeding her cat, but it’s 100% just to sleep in her bed and be around all the things that make her, her. alma does a little better. she’s used to having folks sort of come and go and come again, but she gets almost hyper-insecure?? it’s nothing she’d admit openly, but she’s second-guessing herself in totally unrelated aspects of her life until they’re reunited.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: they don’t necessarily argue, but they disagree with the intent to problem solve. alma is pretty flexible and as long as she can understand why someone might feel the way they feel, she’s willing to hear them out or go along with their plan. if an argument does get out of hand, they need space from it for a while. they each have places to retreat for those times, and they wait for the “hey” text to come through to know it’s time to talk about it.

What does their future look like?: alma becomes a vampire two years into their relationship. they move into a quiet, old house on the edge of town until the whole team moves elsewhere. mason has to get used to having a cat because october has several years left in him. they don’t get married, but they’re inseparable.

Anything else you’d like to share: in the time before alma turns, mason learns to perfect making grilled cheese because it’s what alma craves when she’s not feeling well. He makes the grilled cheese then he immediately showers to get the smell off him but he makes it regardless.

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: depending on the playthrough it swaps between felix and nate, but felix feels more in character

Why them?: alma loves felix’s sense of adventure and nosiness. Most of all she loves that he won’t judge her for pulling the same shit every now and then.

What were their first impressions of each other?: alma was super thrown off by that hand kiss. “who the fuck is this mischief-maker?” while nate was very kind and warm, felix (surprisingly) was the UB teammate that really humanized the rest of the team for alma. he’s fun and genuine and wants everyone else to be happy together. felix was incredibly interested to learn more about alma, as a human, as his boss’s daughter, and then as a friend when she readily accepted the supernatural and, by extension, him as a vampire. The fact that she’s easily flustered or surprised really works in his favor because he lives for being the most shocking person in the room.

What do they do to spend time together?: they share music, they dance, and they text A LOT. lots of memes, lots of “what does [x] mean?” “oh nice” “[proceeds to use the thing they just learned incorrectly]”. they also compare and share hair products.

Anything else you’d like to share: they each have a tamagotchi named after the other (baby felix and baby alma) and they compete to see who can keep theirs alive the longest. everyone loses.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in-depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: oof okay. alma seeks rebecca’s approval and depends on her for a sense of safety and “stability.” in some ways, she wants to be exactly like her mom: strong, independent, unbothered, worldly. but a lot of that shatters the longer alma works professionally with rebecca and with the revelations surrounding rook. alma sees how much rebecca uses her as a crutch, projects her perceived failures onto alma’s life, and over-shelters her.

Relationship with Rook: alma doesn’t remember him and tries not to think of him often or fondly or at all BUT she has so many of his things. his flannels, his detective badge, his ancient comic book collection (which is the only reason she has her own). she has his eyes and his impulsive streak, his care for people of all varieties. she IS rook’s daughter and she ignores that fact so it doesn’t hurt her.

Relationship with Bobby: they used to be very close, slightly flirty friends but there’s no way in hell alma can trust him now. (i originally had bobby as alma’s ex but it was all getting a little too Bella Swan for me. like bobby, douglas, the werewolves, falk, and mason like????? it was a bit much so bobby’s just an old ex-friend)

Relationship with Verda: alma fucking loves verda. that’s her mentor, that’s her dad friend. she feels a sense of Pride and Accomplishment when she can make verda laugh or impress him in the lab, or both. alma’s fond of spending evenings over his place with eric and the kids, making dinner, or just hanging out.

Relationship with Tina: tina was alma’s first friend as a kid. they lost touch in high school because tina was bubbly and cute and popular, while alma was… not. but the summer before they left for college they ran into each other at a house party and since that reconnection, they’ve been thick as thieves. it was like nothing had changed. tina is a light in alma’s life, and alma lets tina lean into the stranger parts of herself without judgment.

Relationship with the Mayor: thinks he’s a creep and a bad parent.

Relationship with Capt. Sung: appreciates how he prioritizes the town and its people, but thinks he could loosen up a bit.

Relationship with Haley: haley is a couple of years older than alma but they’ve known each other forever. alma admires haley’s work ethic and cheery attitude.

Relationship with Elidor: oh man, alma is absolutely stunned by elidor. he’s beautiful, kind, and knowledgeable. in those early days, elidor is responsible for quite a bit of her supernatural education. alma grills him while he nurses her back to health. her curiosity is refreshing to him.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: alma thinks vieno is cute and funny, says hi when she sees them around, but they’re not best friends or anything. she can’t shake the thought that they’re basically a fae version of danny devito.

Relationship with Unit Alpha: absolutely smitten with lesedi. she’s never seen a more beautiful woman. tamiko ends up being a pretty good friend. the twins are on her social periphery but alma’s not close with them.

Relationship with the Maa-alused: alma sincerely wants to help them adjust to life in this world and takes that goal very seriously. at the same time she really really wishes falk hadn’t developed this weird attachment to her.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): YES. i’ve thrown another oc in wayhaven for the express purpose of being The Detective. His name is javi. alma met him in college and they were fast friends. alma convinced him to try out wayhaven after graduation. They lived together for a while and now they, along with tina, can often be seen in the corner booth of chen’s pub.

she was also very close with her maternal grandmother before she died. she was raised by her while rebecca was absent, but i need to develop this more.

her cat, october, whom she’s had for five years. he’s a sweet, mostly black tortie that can hardly meow. alma adopted him as an adult when she got her own place.

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: alma is so open and ready to accept new possibilities. she’s the sort of person that embraces what scares her, finds beauty in it, and loves it intensely. she’s sharp and resourceful. i wouldn’t exactly describe her as hard-working, but she’s knowledgeable about her field and tries to be helpful when she has a goal in mind.

she’s quite tactile. touchy with other people. likes to use her hands for work or hobbies. she doesn’t really mind being alone for long stretches of time but would prefer not to be. she wants others to want to be around her.

she’s also terrible at being honest about her trauma. everything is fine, she’s fine, she doesn’t need to talk about this :) :) :) she will handle the breakdown when it happens and not one second before. also, with quick wit comes uncontrollable sarcasm and it does not always hit well.

Strengths: the only person in unit bravo that knows how to use google

Weaknesses: squishy

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: super torn here because wayhaven feels inland to me, but i think i’ve finally settled on the north carolina coast but not like the outer banks area. If not there, then maybe virginia, closer to the chesapeake bay.

What is their personal history?: alma is born to rook and rebecca in wayhaven. spends her childhood being raised mostly by her grandmother, idolizes rebecca. academic success comes easily for her; a heavy interest in science leads to a scholarship at a university just far away enough to feel like she’s Leaving The Nest. alma dates a bit in college but she’s the type to end up becoming friends with everyone she sleeps with and romance is difficult for her to cultivate. when she does date, the relationships are short-lived. she returns to wayhaven after school and puts her degree to work in wayhaven’s police department. she wishes she’d applied for a position in the city but craves the comfort (and tbh, the low stakes) of home.

If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: she’s a forensic analyst and honestly?? it’s a pretty dreamy job for her. she loves being a scientist, loves helping people, and isn’t easily grossed out.

Anything else you’d like to share: has tried to stay overnight in an ikea. did not succeed.

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: gemini

Hobbies: reading peer-reviewed journals, watching terrible sci-fi, collecting comic books and mugs, thrift shopping

Likes: good hair days, denim jackets, vanilla candles, halloween, unflavored lipbalm, driving at night, that warm “surrounded by love” feeling, snails, fuzzy socks

Dislikes: the lights while driving at night, winter, dry skin, minimalist decor, smudged glasses, being overwhelmed with choices

Drink of choice: white wine usually, white russians if she’s out at chen’s, or shots of jaeger if she’s feeling trashy

Starbucks order: grande flat white with 3 pumps of toffee nut syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon

Favorite food: a simple, fresh spaghetti pomodoro OR lemon meringue pie

Favorite color: golden mustard yellow

Favorite music: she loves just about everything and it’s heavily dependant on her mood. (this is actually really difficult to think about without feeling like i'm giving her my exact taste in music but here's a little playlist that fits her vibe)

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): science fiction or psychological thrillers, but her favorite movie is oliver and company.

Favorite season: fall

Anything else you’d like to share: has a stupid amount of blankets stashed around her apartment. she really does not like being cold.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ some Daisy & Coulson fluff! with a healthy serving of background Philinda. for @marvelthismarvelthat, who prompted “Daisy & Coulson + ‘my hands are shaking’”, along with some other prompts I’ve filled previously. I went an angsty/hurt/comforty route with the first prompt and now - and especially after the recent Daisy Coulson feels </3 - I couldn’t help but go fluffy with this one. Hope you like it!

Rshps: Daisy & Coulson, background Philinda, also some background team and background Quakerider. (And a Special Guest!) Rated G. Set in the distant/indistinct future. Fluff with a little cheese. Enjoy!

Read on AO3 (~1000wd)

-

“Knock knock!” Daisy called, more of a formality than anything as she pressed the door open with her shoulder and entered the room. Coulson was over by the mirror, intently focused on arranging and rearranging his tie, and muttering under his breath. Daisy could feel the tension radiating off him from the doorway. She smiled: it was unusual to see him so flustered, and though most of it was probably due to frustration and nerves she was still determined to chalk it up to love.

“Daisy!” Coulson cheered when she entered, glad to have an excuse to momentarily abandon the uncooperative strip of material. He waved her over instead. “Could you get this please? My hands – well my hand – is shaking, and my prosthetic doesn’t seem to be much good for this.”

Daisy clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shaking her head for the theatrics. “That Fitz. It’s just not good enough. Never know when you might need to tie a Windsor to military precision in the middle of a battlefield, do you?”

“Exactly,” Coulson agreed, playing along. “You get it.”

Daisy bit her lip, grinning as she pulled the tie into shape. His problem now addressed, Coulson relaxed and the smile soon returned to his face too; dreamier and more hopeful than Daisy could ever remember seeing him. She stepped out of the way so that he could give a final check over his appearance: a fine grey suit, with red features in the tie and pocket-square to match May’s dress. He tugged it so the lines sat more flatteringly, tried undoing the button and then doing it again, fixed his cuffs – his anxiousness was so adorably boyish, like he was waiting for his prom date, that Daisy almost laughed, but she bit it back.

She bit it back, and watched in fond adoration as Coulson’s expression once again became wrapped up in thought. Thought of today, thought of May. How often had Coulson dreamed of it, Daisy wondered. She’d never seen him and May as the type for getting married, but maybe that’s just because they were older and more understated in their affection than she was used to. How many chances like this had Coulson given up in his life? May, Daisy knew, had had Andrew and lost him, not once but twice over. Coulson, too, had had a sweetheart – not a fiancée, she didn’t think, but a possibility. A cello player, that’s all Daisy remembered, and he’d had to leave her too. Shield had taken so much from each of them – taken their chance at this sort of life – and yet still they pursued it. They circled back to each other. Or, rather, they’d never left each other. Maybe that’s why Daisy had never seen today on the cards, because it seemed so much like icing on the cake.

(That said, of course, Daisy was never one to turn her nose up at cake.)

Expected or not though, the day was upon them, and the rising hubbub outside Coulson’s dressing room reminded Daisy why she had come to fetch him in the first place. The door swung open and Mack stuck his head inside, and ordered them to get a wriggle on. Daisy waved him off and when he left, Coulson took a deep breath.

“Hoo, boy,” he breathed. “This is happening, isn’t it?”

“I know you are not telling me you’re having second thoughts,” Daisy warned. He shook his head.

“The opposite,” he assured her. “Actually, I kind of felt like I was dreaming ‘til just now.”

It was not hard to see why. A well-planned, if small wedding, in a beautiful if small church, where their names would be officially registered – all charges cleared – and photos would be taken and their lives would be interwoven, romantically, irrevocably, forever… It had never been on the cards before; at least, not since a man named ‘Agent’ had once died and ended up saving the world.

“It says something about our lives that this is a weird day, huh,” Daisy remarked.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Coulson reminded her. He shook his head, smiling fondly – it didn’t take much to turn his mind back to the task at hand. He gestured Daisy’s way toward the door. “So, how does this work? Are you going to give me away?”

“No, I’m flower girl, remember?”

Coulson shrugged. “Worth a shot. To be honest I’m not sure how this works, now that I’m an old man ‘n all.”

“How’s this,” Daisy offered, “I’ll walk you to the doorway. And I promise I’ll call an ambulance if you have a heart attack when you see her.”

“Do you really think that’s likely?”

“Oh, I’m not talking about May,” Daisy baited, letting the air of mystery linger a moment before she went on. “I mean, May is stunning, so look out, but actually I’m talking about another special little lady. A friend of mine tracked her down. Polished her up…”

Coulson’s jaw dropped. “No.”

“… a girl who looks even better in red than I do?” Daisy continued, teasing.

“No!” Coulson gasped, realisation clicking into place. Daisy pulled out her phone and showed him the picture: Robbie Reyes gesturing somewhat smugly to the car. His beloved Lola. Reyes was sitting on the bonnet but at this point Coulson didn’t even care. He could have cried, just from looking at it. So many memories of that damned car, and all he could think about was taking it down a desert highway with May at his side and silence and no-one and no responsibilities around them for days.

“She’s here, she’s outside,” Daisy explained. “When the ceremony is over she’s ready to take you guys on your honeymoon!”

“Daisy,” Coulson choked tearfully – “this is-“

“The least I could do,” she insisted, just as tearful herself. “The least we could do, me and Robbie and the whole team, for all you’ve done for us. Congratulations. I love you. All that. Now- let’s get out there before I ruin my make-up!”

Waving, she herded him toward the door, and Coulson was only too happy to oblige.

[ohsweetflips]

hawk in the raven nest, chapter seven

chapter summary: It was June 1st.

A/N: if this fic was split up, i like to think that chapters 1-6 would be volume one. now onto volume two (:

read on ao3

previous chapter

chapter list

On June 1st, Edgar Allan’s district change was released by the ERC to the public. Every college sports station was reporting on it, and every station made the same connection: the Ravens transferred to the same district as the Foxes.

And thus started the summer of chaos. Reporters and fans everywhere questioned what would happen when Riko and Kevin met again on the court, except this time as athlete and coach. Riko and Kevin’s names still appeared next to each other in sentences, except this time it wasn’t praising the leading duo, it was wondering what would come of this unexpected rivalry. Reporters flooded Castle Evermore to get the players’ thoughts on the switch and the upcoming season. However, only Riko was permitted to speak to them.

“It will be exciting to see Kevin on the court as a rival, especially when seeing his coaching skills,” Riko had said in one of his interviews. “He might actually pull the Palmetto Foxes together as a team. I just hope he knows that the Ravens won’t go easy on him because we know him well.” Riko had flashed the camera one of his charming smiles, but Nathaniel had seen through it. He saw the coldness in Riko’s eyes that reporters took as passion, he saw the brutality behind his smile that the reporters took as charming, and he saw the fatality in the hands that gripped his racket that the reporters took as power.

Everything about Riko Moriyama was a lie. But knowing that one day Nathaniel would expose him made the summer pass smoother than he anticipated. Well, as smoothly as it could with Andrew and Nathaniel beginning their plan. Kevin still had time to wait; the Foxes season didn’t begin until August. But Andrew and Nathaniel had no time to waste.

For the summer, it was just the little things they could do. It was making the Top Five (now Top Four) from Riko and Kevin, Nathaniel and Jean, and Andrew, to Riko, Nathaniel and Jean, Nathaniel and Andrew, and Kevin working with Nathaniel and Andrew from the outside. It was the start of letting Riko know that some of his obedient servants were not bowing to the King anymore. It was letting the panic of losing a grip on what was his overcome Riko.

Nathaniel didn’t have to say anything for Riko to notice. He knew that their captain saw Nathaniel keep up appearances with Andrew just as much as he did with Jean. And he knew that their team saw their captain lacking his former left-hand man.

It was all just enough for Riko to feel the grip of panic around his throat.

It was all that, and not to mention that Andrew never got easier to handle during summer practices. He was still as defiant as he was when Kevin was there, still didn’t care just as much, and still managed to destroy in goal while simultaneously really not caring.

Riko always had little tolerance for Andrew; he had ever since Andrew rejected their offer and then showed up with Kevin. Whatever Riko had left in him was fraying, and yet he never laid a hand on Andrew. It seemed like Kevin was telling the truth when he said Riko wouldn’t attack Andrew because Andrew had nothing to lose from fighting back harder. While Riko valued his life and career above all else, Andrew held his with so little regard.

And then there was Kevin, working with them from Palmetto. Throughout the summer, the amount of times Kevin called only increased. It was dangerous; if anyone found out that Nathaniel and Andrew were in contact with Kevin, and word got to Riko, they were fucked. But Nathaniel knew he couldn’t fear danger anymore, and with Riko being that ‘danger’, he couldn’t fear Riko either. Kevin called when Nathaniel was alone or with Andrew, texted him when he wasn’t, and only called in the middle of the night when the information was dire.

Each time Kevin called, he reported the healing of his hand. The surgeon that Tetsuji and Riko had do his hand said that healing would take twelve weeks, and up to six months to regain full movement. So, over the summer, his hand healed gradually. But whenever Kevin said that his hand didn’t hurt as much, Nathaniel did feel a small glimmer of hope.

Kevin also gave as much information as he could about the Foxes. Nathaniel and Andrew needed to know what they were dealing with, and they needed to know that this mess of a team could get to championships. Kevin said that captain and offensive dealer Danielle Wilds worked the team to the bone; he respected her, and found it admirable how quickly she took to accepting his criticisms. Matthew Boyd, leading backliner and Danielle’s boyfriend, was the best player out there. Kevin didn’t call anyone besides him or Riko “the best”, so to hear him say that meant a lot, and that it was true. Seth Gordon, the only fifth year senior and a striker, was a talented player, but Kevin said that he was too defiant, reckless, and a wiseass. How defiant, reckless, and asshole-like he was depended on the state of his relationship with his on-and-off again girlfriend.

Janie Smalls was the Foxes’ other striker; rumor had it that she would end up benched before the fall season is over. Renee Walker was the Foxes’ only goalie. Kevin said she needed to be better if the Foxes wanted to get anywhere that season and that she needed to stop letting people score on her so much. Allison Reynolds, defensive dealer and Seth’s on-off girlfriend, was vicious and relentless on the court and Kevin said that he “actually pitied anyone who got in her way”. Nathaniel found it amusing when he realized that Kevin was slightly intimidated by Allison.

And then there was Andrew’s family. Nicky Hemmick, cousin and backliner, was reportedly the weakest backliner out out of the three on the team. Kevin said that he needed to find a way to connect with the other backliner on his line and Renee if he wanted to actually have a place on the court. But, all in all, Nicky was a hard worker, and even Kevin said that he could see that he had potential if he kept working. Nicky asked a lot about Andrew, but Kevin didn’t tell him much; apparently Nicky had the tendency to gossip, and Kevin didn’t trust him enough to tell him even a fraction of their plans. Aaron Minyard, twin and backliner, was a good player but refused to associate with anyone but his cousin. That meant that he, while able to work with Matthew, played better with Nicky but it was unrealistic to only put them on together since Matthew and Aaron were the better players. Unlike his cousin, Aaron barely asked about Andrew. Kevin said it was obvious that something happened between the two, since both twins seemed content to barely mention each other. Kevin had yet to find out what that was.

Kevin admitted that he asked Wymack why he had recruited Nicky and Aaron; after seeing their stats from their high school games, he saw that Aaron was good but there were still players that sat ahead of him, and Nicky played in high school but, being twenty-three on the team, he was out of practice for many years. He was surprised to find out that Wymack’s answer was just that Andrew directed him to his brother and cousin. Kevin tried to get more out of him, but all he got from Wymack was that when Andrew, who made it obvious to Wymack that he didn’t care about Exy, directs you to two potential players, it means something.

Overall, what Kevin said was that the Foxes were “a team of nobodies that could actually amount to something if they all pulled their heads out of their asses and worked together”. Instead, they were a fractured team. Matthew and Seth didn’t get along. Seth and Aaron didn’t get along. Neither did Seth and Nicky. It didn’t take long to realize that Seth only got along with Allison when their relationship was good. Aaron was isolated from the entire team, only associating with his cousin. Nicky was more amiable than Aaron, and had a better time getting along with some of his other teammates. But that didn’t mean he would side with any of them over Aaron. Allison mostly stuck with Seth, but she was friendly with Danielle and Renee. However, it was impossible not to notice the tension between Allison and Seth and everyone else. Janie seemed like she was falling apart by the minute. Renee was nice, but being nice didn’t really get people places. Danielle seemed like the only force, besides Wymack, holding the team together, and even then Kevin could see how frustrated she got with her uncooperative team.

Nathaniel was surprised when he saw how much time Kevin put into learning about the Palmetto Foxes.

“But you only have eight players,” Nathaniel had said to Kevin during one of their phone calls. “The ERC requires nine players at minimum.”

“Wymack had someone he recruited, but the recruitment ended up falling through for… hospitalization, I think. But I told the ERC that the Foxes would have their ninth player by November,” Kevin said. “I know someone. The ERC has a tendency to listen to me. However, they said that if there is no ninth player by the first game in November, the Foxes are disqualified.”

When Kevin had said that, Nathaniel’s stomach dropped. If the Foxes were disqualified, their entire plan would go to shit. And this new player had the potential to do well on the Foxes, yes, but they also had the potential to ruin everything and separate the Foxes even more. He was beyond frustrated with Kevin at seeing how easily he late their fate rely on this new player. “And you’re not worried that they’ll bail, or be terrible?”

“Not at all,” the cockiness was clear in Kevin’s voice. Nathaniel really couldn’t stand Kevin sometimes.

It was undeniable that, by the time August came around and Exy season was really starting, their plan was set into motion, and there was no one that could stop it from continuing, now.

A week into the season, the game schedule for the Ravens’ fall season was released and all eyes went to the game planned for October 13th: the Ravens up against the Foxes. Now that the teams were in the same district, they were bound to face each other before Championships. It was going to be one of the most anticipated matches of the season, not because there was a chance that the Foxes would win (there was no chance this early in the season), but because it was going to be Riko and Kevin’s first meeting since Kevin left. Even the Ravens themselves were eager to see what would happened, let alone reporters.

While the team was changing for their practice, Nathaniel approached Andrew. The latter changed by himself in a row that only he occupied, so they had the luxury of not being overheard. Andrew was pulling on his jersey over his gear and armbands when Nathaniel came up to him. He glanced over at him but didn’t say a word.

There was enough chatter here and there in the locker room to cover up their conversation, but Nathaniel still waited until he was standing with Andrew to speak, “Should we talk later?” He didn’t have to specify what he was talking about. With the upcoming game, they would probably have to discuss their plan for that and how they would deal with Kevin and-

“No,” Andrew said simply. He shoved his gloves into his helmet and dangled it on his fingers from the straps.

“But-” Nathaniel started to argue but Andrew cut him off.

“That isn’t ours to deal with,” he said before turning and walking away. Nathaniel sighed and followed him out of the row. He personally had hoped for more from that conversation, but Andrew wasn’t technically wrong when he meant that Kevin had to deal with that first game.

He walked out of the locker room shadowing Andrew, and from behind him he heard Engle, Andrew’s roommate, say to someone, “See? I told you I haven’t been staying out of my room just for Jenkins. There’s that, too.”

When Nathaniel received another call from Kevin, it was after practice and he was alone in his dorm room again, but he knew he wouldn’t be for long; Jean had only stepped out for a moment and would be back shortly. He knew it was too risky to accept the call now. He rejected the call, and not long after did he receive a text from Kevin:

Foxes v. Ravens October 13th. The Foxes won’t win.

The fact that they wouldn’t win was obvious and known by everyone.

Nathaniel typed back:

they won’t win. they just need enough wins to make it to spring championships.

That was Kevin’s job in it all. He had to fix the Foxes enough so that they could qualify for spring championships, and then get them through the death matches to Championships.

It was one job, but it was one hell of a job.

Jean entered right when Nathaniel got a confirmation text from Kevin and Nathaniel was able to breathe easy at the fact that he chose not to accept the call. It would have looked suspicious if Nathaniel suddenly hung up his phone, or even stared at Jean for too long while not saying anything on the line.

However, Jean’s next words put a halt to his sudden moment of peace. It was the French that first caught Nathaniel’s attention. The two only spoke in French when they didn’t want anyone else understanding the content of what they were saying; it wasn’t just thrown around carelessly. And then Nathaniel’s brain pieced together what Jean had said.

“Are you going to tell Kevin that I wish him well on the Foxes?”

Nathaniel felt his heart leap to his throat and his stomach drop out of him. No, no, don’t show anything, act normal. He forced his fingers to keep moving normally on his phone and kept his breathing in check. He feigned annoyance and rolled his eyes at Jean. “You’re hysterical, Jean.”

“But Nathaniel,” Jean said, locking eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m not kidding. I know what you’ve been doing. You’ve been talking to him. You’re phone calls aren’t all that secretive.”

I know what you’ve been doing. It was the words Nathaniel feared to hear; he had nightmares of Riko coming up to him and saying that exact phrase. Those words coming from Riko meant that everything was over: their plan, their revenge, Nathaniel Wesninski, Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day. Everything.

Somehow, coming from his roommate and ally didn’t make hearing it any better.

Nathaniel didn’t want to confess but he didn’t want to keep lying. Kevin had said that Jean would get dragged into this, that it was better to bring him in now than later, and even though Kevin was a drunken mess when he said that, he was right. Nathaniel just never knew when the right time would be, if there would even be one.

Nathaniel stayed silent, and Jean crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you going to say anything, or do you need me to elaborate?”

“We have a plan,” Nathaniel said weakly.

“We?” Jean questioned. Nethaniel mentally kicked himself for already giving away more information than Jean knew. Jean had thought it was just Nathaniel speaking with Kevin. But now, watching Jean put together everything that happened over the summer was painful. “It’s not just you and him. It’s Andrew, too. That’s why you’ve suddenly been with him all this summer. The team thought you two were-” Jean cut himself off. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

“You all thought me and Andrew were what?”

“You don’t get to be the one who is asking questions right now,” Jean snapped. “What is this plan that you three have made?”

Nathaniel thought about his words carefully. It would be the first time he was vocalizing it to anyone who wasn’t Andrew and Kevin. It felt like a betrayal to both Kevin and Andrew, and Jean, and yet he had to say it now. “We’re putting an end to this,” was what Nathaniel finally decided on saying.

“An end to this? An end to what?”

“This,” Nathaniel said, sweeping his hand around the room. “The Ravens.”

Jean went so pale Nathaniel feared he would collapse. Both Jean and Nathaniel knew what abuse came with the Ravens, but they only ever talked about surviving; they never even considered retaliation. Surviving was a concept that they could grasp. Retaliation was a future too-sweet, a future that slipped through their fingers a long time ago.

“Oh my God.”

“Jean, you have to listen-”

“Oh my God,” Jean said, louder this time. Nathaniel rushed over to shush him; their teammates couldn’t hear the French. But Jean just pushed Nathaniel away from him. “Nathaniel, are you- have you lost your mind? How can you even say that? Are you fucking stupid? You can’t- you can’t do that! You all will be killed, and then I’ll be killed! Do you not remember what we talked about? We talked about surviving, this isn’t surviving! This is a suicide mission!”

“But we can’t just survive anymore, Jean,” Nathaniel said, keeping his voice low. He took another step closer only for Jean to take one back. “To survive means that Riko wins, but that can’t happen anymore! He can’t get away with what he does anymore!”

Jean shook his head, staring wide-eyed at Nathaniel. “Is this all because of what happened to us after Kevin left? We’ve been through worse.”

“That’s not it,” Nathaniel said. His gut twisted because he knew where this conversation was going.

“Then what is it, Nathaniel? Tell me what it is, make me understand why you’re making this idiotic plan, with Minyard no less.”

“How did Kevin break his hand?” Nathaniel asked.

Jean narrowed his eyes. “What does that-”

“Just answer, Jean,” Nathaniel said. “Tell me, Jean, how did Kevin break his hand?”

“He was hit by a car,” Jean said slowly, staring down Nathaniel.

“What if I told you that wasn’t it?”

Jean looked like he wanted to tell Nathaniel that he was lying. That there was no way that was true because that wasn’t what Tetsuji told them. He didn’t want to believe Nathaniel, but every time he opened his mouth nothing came out. Finally, after three tries, he managed out, “What?”

Nathaniel took a deep breath. He closed the gap between him and Jean, and luckily Jean did not back away. “There was no hit and run,” he whispered. “Everything Tetsuji and Riko had told you about what happened to Kevin was a lie. There was no late-night run, there was no drunk driver. That is not how Kevin broke his hand.”

Jean shook his head again. “How do you know any of this?”

“Because I was the one who had to clean up the mess,” Nathaniel said. “Riko smashed and destroyed Kevin’s hand in a fit of jealous rage when it was discovered that Kevin was the better striker, and Riko sent me to deal with him. Meanwhile, he talked to Tetsuji and planned out everything. Riko got what he wanted and took out his competition, and Kevin lost his contract and his career in Exy. Tetsuji told us the lie and everyone believed him because that’s the only thing that we have ever known. The only people who know this are me and Andrew, Tetsuji, Riko, Kevin, and now you.”

“Oh my god,” Jean repeated for a third time. His words were far away even though he was standing right in front of Nathaniel.

Nathaniel nodded. “Turns out we weren’t the only ones who had to suffer Riko’s tantrums. Kevin told me Riko attacking him wasn’t uncommon. The only one Riko didn’t do anything to was Andrew.”

“Andrew would be the only one to fight him back,” Jean said, sitting down on his bed. He then let out a humorless laugh and propped his chin in his hands. “This is so fucked.”

“I’m well aware.”

“What do you three even plan to do?” Jean asked.

Nathaniel hesitated to answer. He had been so used to keeping secrets that it was the first path he turned to, but he didn’t think he could keep secrets anymore. “The Moriyamas dislike loose ends. At the end of this, Riko will be one. He’s always been one, abusing his power and all, but now it will be more… evident. That, and the Foxes will win the Championships.” It was just enough for Jean to understand what was going on. Nathaniel would never be completely at ease relaying the plan to him, even in a different language. With Andrew it was different; they kept their voices lowered. With Jean in a state like this, he didn’t know if he could trust his roommate to be quiet.

Jean laughed again and buried his face into his hands. “Oh my God, we are all so fucked.” His words were muffled. Nathaniel worried his bottom lip.

“Well,” Jean said and lifted his head up. He took a deep breath to compose himself and pulled a hand through his hair. “Now what?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow in question. “You can’t just expect me to sit back and watch you three kill yourselves doing this.”

“You’re not getting involved in this,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head.

“Am I not already involved?” Jean asked.

At that moment, Nathaniel decided that Andrew had to protect Jean. When this all started, Nathaniel knew what could happen if Kevin, Andrew, or Nathaniel stepped out of line. They were well aware of the fact that this plan could be walking them to their deaths. But now Jean knew, and while Andrew, Kevin, and Nathaniel were dragged into this mess together, Jean was dragged in by Nathaniel. If anything were to happen to Jean, it would be on Nathaniel’s conscience.

Nathaniel’s own mother was killed because she tried to get him out of the lifestyle set for him by the Moriyamas. He didn’t know if he could handle anymore guilt if something happened to Jean because of what Nathaniel brought him into.

For Jean’s protection, Andrew was the answer.

“I’m working on that part,” Nathaniel said quietly. “Now, I think it would be for our best interest if we stopped his conversation.”

Jean agreed, reluctantly, and that night Nathaniel found himself in Andrew’s dorm room.

“Back in my room,” Andrew said, looking up at Nathaniel from where he sat at his desk chair. His chin was propped in one of his hands and the sleeve of his shirt was falling down to reveal a black armband. “Again.”

“And you’re alone in your shared room,” Nathaniel said. “Again.”

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss my dorm room habits.” The constant bored expression remained on Andrew’s face as he quirked an eyebrow at Nathaniel.

“Jean knows,” Nathaniel said with a lowered voice. “He’s known for a while about the phone conversations. He now knows the full truth.”

If Andrew was shocked by that news, he didn’t bother to show it. “And?”

“I was hoping you could do something about that.” Nathaniel said. He didn’t expect much from Andrew, and he definitely didn’t expect him to listen to his request, but he had to try.

“Hope is a thing that only leads to disappointment,” Andrew said, and suddenly Nathaniel’s curiosity was piqued. He found himself interested in what made him have such a loss of faith in hope, but he couldn’t dwell on that now.

“Please?”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I hate the word ‘please’.”

“Then forget I said it,” Nathaniel said, holding himself back from rolling his eyes. “Jean isn’t the one who belongs in this. But whatever happens to me, happens to him. It seems like you’re the one who can just… keep Riko off of him. He’ll be getting the brunt of the violence with us. He doesn’t deserve that when I’m the one who dragged him in.”

“And what happened to him being your responsibility? Was I not clear enough?”

“I can’t keep him from all of this,” Nathaniel admitted. He hated confessing that to Andrew, but Andrew was the one who could help. “You’ve made it clear that you can, unless you were lying this entire time?”

“I don’t lie. I hate you even more for accusing me of doing so,” Andrew said. His voice remained monotone.

This time Nathaniel did roll his eyes. “So? I’m not asking you to take Jean under your wing and make a deal with him like you did with me. I’m just asking that you keep him away from the worst of Riko’s violence.”

It seemed like Andrew barely thought about it before he answered with, “Okay.”

That was the answer Nathaniel wanted, but he didn’t expect it to come to him so easily. “Really? You’re serious?”

“I’m getting very concerned that you can’t understand basic English. Did I not just say that I don’t lie?”

“You did,” Nathaniel said. “I just didn’t expect you to agree so easily. You know, because you hate me. Which makes perfect sense: to hate me and find me interesting and all.”

“I hate everything about you,” Andrew agreed. “And I told you that you would have to keep my interest.”

“Obviously I have considering the fact that I’m still here, and you are too.” Nathaniel let a smirk form on his face. Andrew’s eyes looked like they could bore holes through his skull.

“You’re infuriating, now get out before I kill you.”

[bemystucky]

AU!Robin Hood (Part I)

Prompt/Summary: This story is for @hunters-from-stark-tower’s movie!AU challenge. The story is set in the world of Robin Hood (Disney) but only loosely follows the plot. It is a modern-ish take. The reader will be a new character in the movie and not a spin-off of one of the characters. 

Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton x f!Reader, Nat, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Nick Fury

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Word Count: 1468

Author’s Note: Guys, sorry this is so bad! I’m trying to get back into the groove of writing and hopefully this will start me back up! I swear my writing won’t always be this shitty and I’m so sorry this is such a late entry to the challenge! Thanks for sticking around guys. I hope I don’t disappoint!

Clint Barton was not your average citizen. He hated the system, like most people did, but unbeknownst to most, he actually did something about it. Right now, he was with his best friend Natasha Romanoff and they were running from Prince Alexander Pierce and his right hand man, Sir Brock Rumlow. Natasha and Clint were part of a larger organization that was trying to reinstate the rightful King, the one that had been usurped by Alexander Pierce. They had worn disguises to steal items from Prince Alexander’s royal carriage and as the pair ran, the disguises are shed onto the street. The plan was to give the goods to the less fortunate, especially those that have just been forced to pay an unfair tax.

Well, it had been the plan. And still would have been if they hadn’t been caught.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here! A pair of misfits trying to steal from the prince. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, famed thieves. I ought to kill you right here.” A dark chuckle made its way out of Rumlow’s throat.

“Now, now Rumlow. They’ll get what’s coming for them. Haul them back to the castle and we can deal with them there.” Clint and Natasha couldn’t resist. Or Rumlow really would have killed them right there. So they reasoned that once they got to the castle, they’d find some way to get out. They always did, didn’t they?

Meanwhile

“Where the hell are they? It’s been hours! They usually come back within the hour! Something’s not right! Steve, we have to help them!” (Y/N) screeched. She could feel something was wrong. The rest of the gang was sitting in their forest shack awaiting the return of Natasha and Clint.

“(Y/N), I’m sure they’re fine. Stop worrying. We need to focus on how to reinstate King Fury.” Steve said.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking! Steve, how are we going to reinstate the king without Nat and Clint? They’re the key players! Clint’s archery skills are unmatchable and Nat’s got the best knife skills in the kingdom. All the rest of us have are brute combat skills.”

“Oh come on (Y/N), your knife skills almost match Nat’s. You’ve been training with her for so long. I’m sure you would be fine if we had to proceed without them,” came Steve’s retort.

“Steve, we all know the real reason for (Y/N)’s worry. Poor thing has a crush on Clint don’t you darling?” Tony smirked from his seat in the corner. “Not sure why, when I’m available.”

“Shut up Tony. I don’t like anyone. It’s perfectly normal to be worried for your friends. Besides, I genuinely feel that something is wrong. We have to go help them!” (Y/N) turned to Steve again, hoping to gain some sort of recognition from the second in command.

“We can’t (Y/N). We don’t have the time to.”

“Steve! This isn’t just about the plan. We need them. We’ll fail without them! Besides, something is really wrong! I can feel it! You all know of my connection to your souls and I feel their souls slipping away from my grasp. We have to go find them! We have to help them! Something’s not right!” (Y/N) was shaking with anticipation. She needed them to understand that she felt something was off.

“(Y/N), you have to stop trying to convince everyone that you can connect with our souls. People will think you’re a witch and they’ll try to kill you! Get it together. Get it in your head that you don’t have that connection! It can’t be true!” Steve hissed out. She involuntarily flinched, having forgotten that Steve, being the oldest out of the group, would also be the most old-fashioned. They had all forgotten that he grew up in an older town where extraordinary people did not exist.

“Fine. You know what steve? If you don’t want to help Clint and Nat, who are your friends, good ones might I add, I’m sure I can do it myself. Like you said, my knife skills are almost as good as Nat’s right? I’ll do it on my own if I have to. If none of you will help me.” (Y/N) glared at Steve and Tony. With Bruce and Bucky having skipped town for the month to lay low after their last heist, the group had dwindled down to Steve, Tony, (Y/N), Sam, Clint, and Nat. But at the moment, Sam was out to town buying groceries.

Steve held (Y/N) glare and Tony sighed. He wanted no part in whatever standoff would once again result of (Y/N) and Steve’s opposing views. Silently, he went back to studying the ways in which he could reinstate the King legally. Without Bruce’s insight, he would have to work twice as hard.

(Y/N)’s glare faltered for a moment as she stumbled. Steve triumphantly turned his back to her and returned to his seat next to Tony.

“Whoa, (Y/N), what’s up? Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?” Sam’s voice cut the tension in the room. (Y/N) looked up and before she knew it, everything went black.

In the Castle Halls

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Prince Alexander smirked, “where you will face your inevitable death.”

“You’re such a bastard Pierce. Oof!” Clint grunted as Rumlow slammed the butt of his gun into his side.

“Excuse me? Want to try that again?”

“I said, you’re a bastard! Oof!” Rumlow hit him again.

“Clint, shut up.” Natasha hissed, trying to get Clint to stop drawing attention to themselves. If they were going to try to get out, the less people who knew they were on castle grounds the better.

“Why should I? He doesn’t belong here. This is not his home. None of this is rightfully his. How many other people do you think he’s holding captive in a palace that does not belong to him? How many people is he going to scam? How many poor people is he going to take from? They have nothing and he just keeps taking and taking! He’s a bastard!”

“Clint! Seriously! Shut up!” Natasha had noticed Maid Wanda passing by and didn’t think it would be a good idea to draw her attention. But Clint had a different idea.

“I bet he keeps her here by force too!” Clint was on a roll. While Nat was working on a sly and quiet, Clint was boisterous. It was really a wonder that they were best friends.

By now, everyone in the room was seething. Pierce and Rumlow because their prisoners were uncooperative, Nat because Clint wouldn’t shut the hell up, Clint because he didn’t know how to get out, and Maid Wanda because who the hell were these people?

Before anyone knew what was happening, Wanda marched right up to Clint and slapped him.

“Who do you think you are? Speaking about me like this! You know nothing!” She was livid, and despite her lady-in-waiting’s best attempts to calm her, Wanda kept speaking. “What’s your name and what are you doing here?”

“Don’t have a name sweetheart.” Natasha rolled her eyes. Of course Clint would be flirting at a time like this. The boy never knew when to quit.

Wanda scoffed. “Try again.”

“Robin Hood,” Clint said with a charming smile. Wanda stilled. She was secretly a fan of Robin Hood after hearing all the tales about him from her ladies-in-waiting and other servants. Despite being kept at the castle against her will, she had most of the servants at the castle on her side. Day in and day out they would bring her news on the outside world. Stories about Robin Hood and his gang, stories of how Pierce and his men would terrify the commoners into paying unfair taxes, and any news of King Fury, her uncle.

“You’re lying. Robin Hood would not let himself be caught. At least, not from the few stories I’ve heard.” At this, Clint’s mind began rolling. It was clear to him that Wanda was a fan of Robin Hood, and with one glance at Natasha, they began to formulate a way to get out of the castle.

“So, you’re a fan. Robin Hood at your service milady.” Clint bowed as low as he could before Rumlow yanked on his collar. “You seem skeptical that I am Robin Hood. Am I not dressed the way he always is on the job? Ask around sweetheart, it’s true. I’ll even tell you some stories if you come visit us later.”

“Visit you? Not a chance, Robin Hood. Let’s get moving.” Pierce had Rumlow and his men take Clint and Natasha into the dungeons below. Chancing a quick glance behind him, he saw Wanda’s stunned features. Clint shared a look with Natasha and smirked.

Hook, line, sinker.

Thoughts?

Tagging: @pleasecallmecaptain @crownie-sr @writing-soldiers @hotmessofafangirl @wowhowawkwardisthat @sebstan01 @writingruna @you-and-bucky @sinbad1229 @the-real-tony-stank @theartofbeingmilla @smol-flower-kiddo @marvelfanfichq @mylittlefandomfanfictions @tempestinatea-cup @harrypotter2611 @shamvictoria11 @emmaplum @annadier @23aprliee @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @wakandasoldier

[cuddlywritesthings]

Rage in a Bottle

Genre: World of Warcraft

Characters: Taviast Duskwither, Guntharius Plaguespitter, Raustul Shadeshifter

Characters mentioned: Sunwalker Kagun Petalhoof, Kippen O’ Connell

Timeline: BFA, a fair bit of time after Saurfang’s death; Windrunner’s departure as Warchief, the beginning of the civil war within the Horde.

Trigger warnings: Strong language, violence, prolonged suffering

-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

The large fleet vessel creaked as if expelling its final breath. Briny water lapped gently at its hull, bringing with it the renewed scent of the sea. Seagulls screamed overhead, alarmed and alerted, afraid of some force they could no longer see. The clouds hung overhead like a shroud, mournful and dreary.

The Circle’s mission today had been a fairly daunting one. Word had come in that one of Slyvannas’s fleet had shuttered up in a hidden alcove in Zuldazar, and they had begun to secretly stockpile for the upcoming war. Their activity had spiked beyond the rate of normalcy, and it triggered red flags within The Circle. But really, could that be surprising anymore? The devious Warchief was planning something, but, then again, she always was. It wasn’t exactly clear as to what for, most of the time. Her intentions remained as murky as the stagnant waters of the previous Horde slums, and not even The Circle’s best men (and women!) could defer what was going on, even with their collected information.

This led to a bold move on their leader’s part.

An order was declared, and Taviast doled out groups. Certain units would take on certain vessels, based on their risk factor and potential for carrying more sinister tools for war (weaponry, Goblin bombs, barrels of plague), supplies, soldiers and, of course, prisoners to be broken, bent, whipped and tortured into doing the ‘Dark Lady’s’ bidding.

They had their information. They had the data. They had a plan.

Quietly they had moved into position through the shadows of nightfall, and by early morning, before the sun sleepily rose over the glimmering horizon line of the ocean, they struck.

It didn’t take long to perform their task. Each unit had been created expertly, featuring key players who could benefit off one another: putting to use strengths and making up for areas of weakness. They operated like a well-oiled machine. More of the Gnomish variety, and less of the Goblin.

A sinister hiss escaped a Forsaken's mouth as it frustratingly tried to get its uncooperative body to work. Pain, long since dulled, along with everything else in its state of undeath, now seemed fresh and new. It spread along his body; through veins that had long since grown still, through lungs long since silent, and through a heart that had long since expired. Desperately it tried clawing at the face of its assailant-- no, its murderer-- hoping to somehow dig its bony fingers into the acid-worn scarring on the traitor's cheek.

"No, no," the dark voice purred from the ‘traitor’ sickeningly, as if he were as pleased as a cat with its dying prey. The warlock, this traitor, ensnared the Forsaken's hand, crushing it in a vengeful, spiteful hold. His hand, so better preserved and maintained than the dying deadman's own, were still cold and senseless tools for chaos and mayhem. In that aspect, they were more alike than they’d care to admit to. "You're not allowed to touch me," the warlock continued to say, his voice taunting. "Rats don't have the right to touch me with their filthy claws. You are diseased. And I," he chuckled darkly, his tone dipping even lower, “am about to cure you of your undeath. Consider yourself one of the lucky ones.”

The crewmember of that royal vessel spat out a visceral glob of expired, congealed blood. It splattered on the hem of the warlock’s robes, darkening the already rich material. "Y--You have no right... turning your back on Our Dark Lady," the Forsaken rasped. "Traitor! Betraying your Queen! With whom you owe your existence to!"

Something passed across the traitor's glowing eye, and the warlock lashed out, grabbing the crewmember by the neck. He forcefully craned the Forsaken's face up towards him, relishing in the pained expression warping over his grotesque features. "As if I asked for this existence,” he wrathfully spat. “This unlife of servitude, shackled to the grave! And you,” he turned the Forsaken’s head a little to the right, taking in the make of the dead sailor’s face, “yes, you speak of a Queen that I don’t align with. I dismiss her madness and embrace my own, for I am far more sober of the mind than the shebitch could ever hope to be.”

"Y--You confused maggot!” The maimed Forsaken wheezed; a reflex dredged up from a time when breathing was quite critical to one’s survival. “Our Lady w--will find your little group. I--It’s only a matter of time! She will find you all, squash your little rebellion, and make examples of you all! R--Raising you into servants, that’s too good for you. She’ll--"

Letting his sharp nails dig into the Forsaken's stained flesh, he buried them into that neck, allowing the skin to tear and give under his embrace. The Warlock could imagine the sinewy strands he could rip into, and the cartilage he could peel off. Sensational! Wondrous! Flaying open the skin of his enemy, baring the bones of this monster for all to witness!

"All I hear is senseless noise,” the warlock testily interjected. “Useless, senseless noise, blathering on from your flapping, unhinged jaw. I will let you hear this once, rat," the warlock brought himself close to the Forsaken's face, “so I suggest you listen well, and recite to rest of the damned bastards in hell what I am telling you now.” His voice darkened considerably as he snarled out, “she... was never my Queen."

The crewmember gurgled in its strangled death throes as the warlock ripped into the already decaying flesh, fingers finding their way into muscle and tendon. How easy it gave way beneath his grasp. Oh, how the already disfigured, mutilated Forsaken cried out!

And his demons? Well, they had done such a lovely job, relieving the rat of his legs earlier. Ripped the legs right off of this rat. Left nothing but a torso and intestines, half-dribbling out of the hunk of decaying meat. He would have to reward them justly, once the job was truly finished.

Flesh. Blood. Gore. The warlock could feel an undeniable urge. One he had staved off all this time, all this long while. A memory. Risen from the grave. All around him, Forsakens, freshly new to a life of undeath, tearing at the flesh of cold corpses. Ripping, peeling, taking up great handfuls of visceral matter before--

"...Doctor Plaguespitter!"

With a dull, wet thud the expired Forsaken hit the soiled deck of that vessel. The warlock (with an entirely peeved expression), turned to look over his shoulder. With a sneer, he drawled out, "how many times, Duskwither, need I tell you? Call me Guntharius, or call me Plaguespitter. You damn elves and your formalities!"

The Archmage heaved a sigh, shaking his hooded head. Even though his features were heavily shrouded by his cloaked disguise and attire change, it was unmistakable to the warlock that this was, indeed, the peacock of the entire organization. No amount of obscuring, blurring or shielding could keep the warlock from recognizing the elf. He could tell who he was alone by his smell.

The Archmage reeked of old books, magic and the faintest hint of wine and bloodthistle.

"Somehow I knew I'd find you here.” He eyed the dead Forsaken at the warlock’s feet, and he couldn’t help but wince. “And here you are.. torturing a loyalist."

"That is my job," Guntharius said, seemingly preening his ego, given by his haughty tone. With the toe of his boot, he kicked aside the mutilated corpse. "You recruited me for your little order, Duskwither. You should have known what I was like. You added a wild card to your deck, and you’re just now questioning how the rules go?"

"...Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right. I should have foreseen such endeavors of yours, based on… past performances." Taviast hurried over to the warlock’s side, trying to avoid eye contact with the mangled body. The mutilated corpse stared blankly up towards the sky, its unhinged jaw nearly ripped away from his face. "Anyway, Guntharius, it's done. Our mission is complete. I've received word from the other groups that they’ve accomplished their tasks. The Captain of this fleet has been eradicated. The navigator as well. The crew is no more-- a complete and utter purge, might I add. And the prisoners have been released. Sunwalker Petalhoof is seeing them, diligently making sure there are no injuries or illnesses to speak of. Aside from the mental trauma, of course, which in its own right shall be dealt with in the most sensitive manner possible."

The warlock let his gaze wander over the deck of the ship. He could see bodies littering the stained, warped wood. A twitch at the corner of his mouth dared his neutral grimace to warp into that of a scowl.

“...Doctor,” Taviast began, slowly, “it’s time to leave. Our mission here is done. It is time to return to headquarters and allow our cleanup crew to set up the rest. We need to allow them plenty of time to set things up, if we are to ever hope to cover our tracks and avoid being discovered."

"Mmmm." The warlock cast one more look towards his tortured victim before returning his attention to the Archmage. A maddeningly pleased smile split across his face, stretching the acid worn skin of his cheek in a nauseating way. "I see you had fun with your slayings."

Taviast looked down at himself. Though he wore a hooded cloak and had donned duller-than-usual attire, he could still make out the liberal splashing of blood and matter across the hem of his tunic, cloak, and against his pants and boots. It soiled the material, darkening it.

"Now is not the time," Taviast dictated in a warning tone. "Come! Let us depart! Kippen and Raustul will sail these ships over by the rocks-- by that one port we discussed, yes? If all goes according to plan, It will appear to the Horde that this ship had a run-in with pirates.” With a rather pleased look, he added, quite proud of his organization, “a mighty fine blow, if I do say so myself.”

“A fine blow?”  Guntharius derisively snorted. “You call this a ‘fine blow’? A worthy strike against Windrunner?” The warlock waved his hand about airily as he moved over towards a perished Forsaken seaman. He picked up its abandoned rucksack. Casually he began to rifle through it, pulling out various baubles and useless trinkets in his search for viable goods. “Three ships in this fleet. Only three.”

“I admit,” Taviast began patiently, trying his best to remain optimistic, “that I had expected more."

"And one ship was nothing but a carrier for miscellaneous goods. Hardly anyone was on it."

"Our data had pointed towards a large fleet overburdened with weapons, this is true. Azerite infused weapons included. I acknowledge that the only thing we found here were--”

“Prisoners, Duskwither.”

“Well, yes, but--”

“And food,” the warlock sharply added as he tossed the useless rucksack aside.

“Correct.” The Archmage exhaled softly. He could hear the judging tone in the Forsaken’s voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself from becoming too frustrated. “I understand how this looks. We spent all that time collecting data, and our information was proven to be incorrect. Still, you must admit, this task of ours was critical. It is a victory on our part as well as a viable act of defiance against this regime. We rescued prisoners which, in turn, weakened Windrunner’s source of slave labor. And we halted the shipment of food and goods to her army which, as you already know--”

“Is pointless in the long run,” the warlock interrupted him. “I understand what you’re trying to get at, but spare me the explanation.” Taking a few steps around the body strewn deck, Guntharius looked out over at the other two moored ships, knowing, full well, that the other units more than likely returned to headquarters right about then. “It’s all well and good to rescue prisoners. Trust me, I know better than anyone in The Circle how important it is to save those lost souls. Long ago, I was punished for that particular act. I was murdered for it.” The warlock heard the Archmage’s surprised sputter, but he talked right over him. “But this isn’t the time to make small strikes. Denying her army of food and supplies will only go so far when she can still obtain those goods through other sources. Her reach is far and wide, Duskwither.”

“I understand that,” the elf replied, tersely.

“Then you know that it’s pointless.” Guntharius turned to face him once more, a salt kissed breeze playing with his robes. “A majority of her loyalists are Forsaken. Have you gone senile in your old age and you've forgotten that already? We don’t need to consume nutrients in order to function. We merely exist. Dammit, Duskwither! Forsaken can ingest the flesh of the fallen! I thought you would have come to learn that after being in the company of a Forsaken all this time!“

It was well known that Guntharius abstained from the consumption of flesh, but he was still known to plaster that bit of information up every time they had a discussion about their next target, and it potentially involved the eradication of Forsaken forces.

“I know what you are thinking,” Taviast conceded, holding up his hands in what he hoped came across as a peaceful gesture. “It wasn’t as grand a victory as we had hoped. But consider this: it is progress! In retrospect, we have not decimated Windrunner's forces today, but we have thrown a wrench in her plans."

"It's not enough," the warlock growled under his breath, turning to fully face the elf. "It never is enough. When will you learn, Duskwither? That the only way you can route the bitch mongrel out from her hovel is by eliminating all her blood sucking ticks in one go. Smaller attacks like this," he gestured towards the ship around them, "helps, but it's not enough. She can, and will, continue raising brainwashed beasts to do her bidding. We have to strike harder, faster, on a grander scale! Now, more than ever."

Taviast stood there in silence for a beat longer, contemplating everything said. And then, with great trepidation, he murmured in a defeated and exhausted tone, "I know, Guntharius. But there is only so much our order can do."

"And in that time," snapped Guntharius, clearly on edge over still being on a boat, over water, for a pathetic and wasted reason, "she will continue to dismantle the Horde, and the Alliance will fall. And with that, all of Azeroth."

"Don't speak to me as if you know the course of fate itself," snapped Taviast suddenly, his tone tactless but full of vitriol and seething frustration. He jabbed a bloodied finger at the warlock, his attempt at retaining a cordial tone watery and weak at best. "We are all strained. We are running low on supplies and resources. The war never ended. It is merely shifting into a brand new emergency. Windrunner is a blight to this land, I agree with you on this. But we are doing all we can do--"

"We are wasting our time," Guntharius pressured. He stood straight, holding himself up as much as he could, as if trying to defy the taller elf despite the difference in height. "You are not spending our resources wisely. You are hesitating, still too afraid to lose anyone. Did you listen to me before? At all?"

The seagulls shrieked overhead as they drunkenly wheeled about in the sky.

"...Excuse me?"

"What? Playing your oblivious card so early?” Guntharius gave the elf a withering stare. “Our little chat? When I found you as you were attempting to drink yourself into oblivion? That night I helped guide your depressed ass to bed? How I brought to light your little habit of bottling up your negative emotions? Letting your grief and anger show for once? You, obsessing over things? Letting it eat you up inside?” He returned the gesture of the elf’s pointing with an act of his own. His finger stabbed at the Archmage’s chest. “Me, telling you to let go of certain things? To not let your fears cloud your vision? Feh!” He pointed his finger in the Archmage’s face, the swiftness of the action betraying his anger. “Well, clearly you've retained nothing. Your fear holds you back! You are choosing our targets based on--"

"Are you questioning my authority," Taviast snarled, eyes flaring a rich, vibrant purple.

A raspy laugh escaped the Warlock. It rose in a menacingly, off kilter crescendo, until it unnaturally shrieked forth, like the cawing of a crow.

"There! Right there!" The warlock, excitedly, drew up close to the Archmage. "That fire, that rage! The passion for it all! The bloodshed, the war, the endless nights of planning, plotting, conceding and consorting with our allies! Ready to invade and eliminate our targets!" The laugh came forth again, and this time it howled first, wrapped up and entangled in madness. "I have waited, Duskwither, for you to man up! To stop trying to act as the peacemaker. The time for peace is gone. You need to stand up! Have a voice! To yell instead of whisper! To embrace your emotions and accept who you are!"

"You," Taviast seethed in a deadly cold tone, as he brought himself close to his face, "are getting on my nerves."

"Yes, tell me," the warlock hysterically commanded. "Let loose your emotions for once in your FUCKING LIFE!"

"You and your insolent--"

"Stop acting like a marionette for the people! STAND UP FOR YOURSELF!”

“YOU WILL SILENCE YOURSELF--”

“EMBRACE YOUR DARKNESS--”

“--OR I WILL MAKE YOU!"

“--ALONG WITH YOUR PRECIOUS 'LIGHT'!"

Arcane energy snapped and popped as crackling skeins of it passed over the Archmage's body. It transformed his aura, corrupting the natural calm with the prickly and electrifying sense of danger. His balled fists glimmered with conjured energy, magic shimmering from his fingertips.

And yet, the aura around the warlock darkened. A contrasting agent, it clashed with the Archmage’s. It thickened and became cloying with the sensation of sickness, affliction and the heat of felfire. Dark energy formed along the Forsaken’s hands; a insurgence of devious, demonic energy that whispered hauntingly of forbidden power.

“Speak out of turn again,” Taviast darkly threatened, “and I will make good use of my spellwork.”

“I’d like to see you try,” the warlock taunted in return. "Show me, Archmage, the man you've become. Show me your repressed emotions! Give me your rage!"

Hostile gazes locked in that single turbulent moment, each waiting for the other to move, their clashing, chaotic energy only grew. One inch. One millimeter. A twitch. A shudder. Something, anything, to give away the other’s intention. Rage, frustration and resentment. Negativity, swirling about them, caustic and invisible, but omnipresent. Like the Sha, biding its time to manifest from the two.

Daring. Waiting.

Ready to strike.

War.

"...uh... you guys?"

Breaking away at the last moment before they blasted the other in their own respective power, both the Archmage and the warlock turned to the uninvited guest, peeking around the mast of the ship. The two snapped in unison an agitated, "WHAT."

Raustul Shadeshifter stood there in his bout of confusion, his expression a bit lost. The ever towering half-blooded Demon Hunter was an asset to The Circle and, while he wasn’t within the higher ranks of the order, he typically wasn’t left out of things.

Seems like he had been left out of… whatever was going on here.

The Demon Hunter looked particularly menacing today, what with the liberal splattering of loyalist gore on his armor. To many he looked menacing, what with his incredibly muscular build and impressive height. For such a carefree and relaxed person, it were these tiny moments the entire Circle had to stop and consider just what he was, and what oath he took. Their lovable, mischievous, playful comrade-in-arms was still, in many aspects… a demon.

"....Uh... alriiiigh’,” Raustul began, unsure if he should back away now or just get on with his thought process. “Not goin' to ask what the fuckin' fel that was all 'bout."

Eyes returning to their purified golden hue, Taviast shot the warlock a tempered stare. His body language was prickly, his posture austere and defensive. "We were just conversing," Taviast replied, coolly, his usually tactfully polite tone a tad bit strained. His eyes never left the Forsaken, even as he spoke to the Demon Hunter. "Merely that."

Guntharius gave Raustul a smarmy smirk, his expression clearly stating, 'he's lying to save face'.

"...Righ'.” Raustul shot them both an incredulous look. “Well, uh, boss? Gettin’ kinda antsy here.” He jerked his head in the direction of the other two now derelict ships. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste. Can we get to the rest of the plan? You want Kip to go ahead an' set sail so we can go about leavin' this baby out by the port?"

"Yes," Taviast replied quickly, returning to his previous state of professionalism. Unnervingly fast, perhaps, but his affable smile had indeed returned. "That would be wonderful, my friend! If you could, Shadeshifter, then, please, inform O’ Connell that we are ready for the last phase. Make quick work, don't dawdle."

"Anythin'," Raustul cheerily replied, flashing the elf a thumbs-up, seemingly forgetting all about what just happened there, and the harsh oddness to it all. "Feel free t' return to the base. We've got our Hearths. We'll meet'cha there when it's all good and done, yea?"

"Fair enough," Taviast replied, turning his back in order to conjure a bit of magic. His nimble fingers worked at forming a long since memorized spell. In the air winked a ripple of energy, spreading open like an unfurling lotus until it formed a proper portal. On its rippling, reflective surface was the image of the previously abandoned castle that they all now called their headquarters. Turning towards the Demon Hunter once more, with a lively wink, Taviast added, "Doctor Plaguespitter and I will return and await your arrival. Please be prompt, but do stay safe."

"Y'know me, boss!"

"That's exactly why he's worried," the warlock drawled lazily before stepping up to the portal. "He knows you. Just don't get yourself killed. I like experimenting with corpses, but I wouldn't enjoy experimenting on yours." With a sickening smirk, he added in a strange hiss, “you’re too tall to fit most of my operation tables.”

"Ha. Yea. As pleasant as always t' talk to, Gunny."

"Don't fucking call me that."

"Sure thing, Gunny-boy."

As the Demon Hunter unfurled his torn wings and took off to find his worgen partner-in-crime, Guntharius turned back to the portal. He paused for a moment, side eyeing the Archmage. He could tell the elf was still frustrated with what happened, but had returned to wearing that mask.

“...Your guise.”

“What guise,” Taviast replied. His words may have been terse and dark, but the same affable smile remained.

“That. Your mask.”

“I simply don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied offhandedly, his tone returning to a carefree, happy feel.

"Keh heh. Amusing.” The warlock moved towards the portal and, right before stepping through, he hissed out, “we will talk about this... later.”

As the Forsaken’s form disappeared within the rippling, shimmering portal, the Archmage felt his shoulders tense. A dreaded chill scattered down his spine, and a flush of resentment and frustration flared hot within his soul. He swore his heart began rapidly beating against ribs that, just now, felt far too fragile for his old body.

“Oh,” he darkly mumbled, all to himself, “I am sure I will enjoy our little chat.”

[thedeadshotnetwork]

Where Trump's support endures Pam Schilling is the reason Donald Trump is the president. Schilling's personal story is, in poignant miniature, the story of this area of western Pennsylvania as a whole — one of the long-forgotten, woebegone spots in the middle of the country that gave Trump his unexpected victory last fall. She grew up in nearby Nanty Glo, the daughter and granddaughter of coal miners. She once had a union job packing meat at a grocery store, and then had to settle for less money at Walmart. Now she's 60 and retired, and last year, in April, her 32-year-old son died of a heroin overdose. Desperate for change, Schilling, like so many other once reliable Democrats in these parts, responded enthusiastically to what Trump was saying — building a wall on the Mexican border, repealing and replacing the Affordable Care Act, bringing back jobs in steel and coal. That's what Trump told them. At a raucous rally in late October, right downtown in their minor-league hockey arena, he vowed to restore the mines and the mills that had been the lifeblood of the region until they started closing some 40 years ago. When Trump won, people here were ecstatic. But they'd heard generations of politicians make big promises before, and they were also impatient for him to deliver. "Six months to a year," catering company owner Joey Del Signore told me when we met days after the election. "A couple months," retired nurse Maggie Frear said, before saying it might take a couple of years. "He's just got to follow through with what he said he was going to do," Schilling said last November. Back then, there was an all-but-audible "or else." A year later, the local unemployment rate has ticked down, and activity in a few coal mines has ticked up. Beyond that, though, not much has changed — at least not for the better. Johnstown and the surrounding region are struggling in the same ways and for the same reasons. The drug problem is just as bad. "There's nothing good in the area," Schilling said the other day in her living room. Even so, her backing for Trump is utterly undiminished: "I'm a supporter of him, 100 percent." What I heard from Schilling is overwhelmingly what I heard in my follow-up conversations with people here whom I talked to last year as well. Over the course of three days this month, I revisited the president's base — that 30-plus percent of the electorate who resolutely approve of the job he is doing. But what I wasn't prepared for was how readily these same people had abandoned the contract he had made with them. Their satisfaction with Trump now seems untethered to the things they once said mattered to them the most. "I don't know that he has done a lot to help," Frear told me. Last year, she said she wouldn't vote for him again if he didn't do what he said he was going to do. Last week, she matter-of-factly stated that she would. "Support Trump? Sure," she said. "I like him." When I asked Del Signore about the past year here, he said he "didn't see any change because we got a new president." He nonetheless remains an ardent proponent. "He's our answer." I asked Schilling what would happen if the next three years go the way the past one has. "I'm not going to blame him," Schilling said. "Absolutely not." Is there anything that could change her mind about Trump? "Nope," she said. All this, perhaps, is not so surprising, considering polling continues to show that — in spite of his unprecedented unpopularity — nearly all people who voted for Trump would do it again. But as I compared this year's answers to last year's, it seemed clear that the basis of people's support had morphed. Johnstown voters do not intend to hold the president accountable for the nonnegotiable pledges he made to them. It's not that the people who made Trump president have generously moved the goalposts for him. It's that they have eliminated the goalposts altogether. This reality ought to get the attention of anyone who thinks they will win in 2018 or 2020 by running against Trump's record. His supporters here, it turns out, are energized by his bombast and his animus more than by any actual accomplishments. For them, it's evidently not what he's doing so much as it is the people he's fighting. Trump is simply and unceasingly angry on their behalf, battling the people who vex them the worst — "obstructionist" Democrats, uncooperative establishment Republicans, the media, Black Lives Matter protesters, and NFL players (boy, oh boy, do they hate kneeling NFL players), whom they see as ungrateful, disrespectful millionaires. And they love him for this. Del Signore, by his own admission, is not a person who's focused on policy specifics. A short, stout, genial man who wears gold chains around his neck and rings on both pinkies, he last year did something for Trump he had never done for any other candidate. The 61-year-old Johnstown native proudly planted a Trump sign in the ground in front of his catering company. And nothing that's happened in the past 12 months has lessened his enthusiasm for the man who so energized him. "Everybody I talk to," he said, "realizes it's not Trump who's dragging his feet. Trump's probably the most diligent, hardest-working president we've ever had in our lifetimes. It's not like he sleeps in till noon and goes golfing every weekend, like the last president did." I stopped him, informing him that, yes, Barack Obama liked to golf, but Trump in fact does golf a lot, too — more, in fact. Del Signore was surprised to hear this. "Does he?" he said. "Yes," I said. He did not linger on this topic, smiling and changing the subject with a quip. "If I was married to his wife," Del Signore said, "I don't think I'd go anywhere ." There are some positives around here. Corsa Coal's Acosta mine in neighboring Somerset County opened in June. So did Robindale Energy's new Maple Springs mine. Rosebud Mining reportedly is working to reopen its facility in Cresson. The area's unemployment rate stands at 5.2 percent, down a point from last year — but still higher than the state and national numbers. At Johnstown's JWF Industries, a 450-employee manufacturing company, business hasn't gone up this year, owner Bill Polacek told me, but he's expecting a 30 percent jump next year. He chalks that up to Trump and his "pro-business" "mood." But even this optimistic stance highlights some of the deep-seated troubles here. "Right now, if I could find 150 people, I'd put them to work," Polacek said. He needs machinists and welders. "But it's hard to find people," he said — people with the skills, people who can pass a drug test. Something I heard last week that I didn't hear last year: resignation. Drapes drawn, Frear, the retired nurse, sat in her living room and told me there really wasn't all that much Trump could do to help Johnstown and Cambria County. "You know, we're sort of a depressed area," she said. "We're just a little area, you know — but it's a good area. Good people here. And I think he would, if he knew of a place that had a lot of problems, I think he would try to help. I don't know what he could do, or would want to do, for Johnstown, you know?" He said he was going to bring back the steel mills. "You're never going to get those steel mills back," she said. "But he said he was going to," I said. "Yeah, but how's he going to bring them back?" "I don't know," I said, "but it's what he said, last year, and people voted for him because of it." "They always say they want to bring the steel mills back," Frear said, "but they're going to have to do a lot of work to bring the steel mills back." He hasn't built the wall yet, either. "I don't care about his wall," said Frear, 76. "I mean, if he gets his wall — I don't give a s---, you know? But he has a good idea: Keep 'em out." He also hasn't repealed ObamaCare. "That's Congress," she said. And the drug scourge here continues unabated. "And it's not going to improve for a long time," she said, "until people learn, which they won't." "But I like him," Frear reiterated. "Because he does what he says." One afternoon I stopped to talk to a small group of people who had gathered on the sidewalk across the street from the Johnstown Planned Parenthood office. Gale Bala sat on a low rock wall and held a sign that said "Abortion kills children." She voted for Obama in 2008. She voted for Romney in 2012. Her parents were Democrats, her steelworker husband was a Democrat, and she was a Democrat until two years ago. She voted for Trump last fall, and she'll "definitely" vote for him in 2020, too. "He's kind of the last best hope, in my opinion," said Bala, 65, a retired high school Spanish and reading teacher. "I haven't run into anybody who's said they'd never vote for him again." Next to Bala was a gray-haired man who told me he voted for Trump and was happy so far because "he's kept his promises." I asked which ones. "Border security." But there's no wall yet. "No fault of his," the man said. What else? "Getting rid of ObamaCare." But he hasn't. "Well, he's tried to." What else? "Defunding Planned Parenthood." But he didn't. "Not his fault again," the man said. More than anything, what seemed to upset the people I spoke with was the National Football League players who have knelt during the national anthem to protest police brutality and racial inequality. "Shame on them," Del Signore, the catering company owner, said. "These clowns are out there, making millions of dollars a year, and they're using some stupid excuse that they want equality — so I'll kneel against the flag and the national anthem?" "You're not a fan of equality?" I asked. "For people who deserve it and earn it," he said. "All my ancestors, Italian, 100 percent Italian, the Irish, Germans, Polish, whatever — they all came over here, settled in places like this, they worked hard and they earned the success that they got. Some people don't want to do that. They just want it handed to them." "Like NFL players?" I said. "Well," Del Signore responded, "I hate to say what the majority of them are...." He stopped himself short of what I thought he was about to say. Pam Schilling and her husband, however, did not restrain themselves. "The thing that irritates me to no end is this NFL s---," Schilling told me in her living room. "We do not watch no NFL now." Schilling looked at her husband, Dave McCabe, who's 67 and a retired high school basketball coach. She nodded at me. "Tell him," she said to McCabe, "what you said the NFL is...." McCabe looked momentarily wary. He laughed a little. "I don't remember saying that," he said unconvincingly. Schilling was having none of it. The NFL? "N---ers for life," Schilling said. Excerpted from an article that originally appeared at Politico. Reprinted with permission. November 25, 2017 at 12:21PM

[3one3]

The Sequel - 786

Rope Burn

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea players, and random awesome OC’s

(okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“How about Monday, then? Shopping and afternoon tea? Maybe at the Mandarin? No boys?” Christina suggested to Natasha while she gave Leo a little break from the exercise he was working on with Wizzy. The two moms were comparing schedules. Christina couldn’t do Saturday evening cocktails because she had to go to Germany to check on the barn, and Natasha couldn’t do Sunday brunch because Eden was playing in the afternoon and the boys all wanted to go to the Bridge.

“That could work,” the stay at home mom nodded, her phone in-hand with her diary. “I just have to be home for the kids’ dinner.”

“I’m picking you up at 2. Write it down!”

“Yay! Can we go to stores where we really don’t like the customers so we have more people to judge for what they take into the fitting rooms?” she asked almost pleadingly. The two girls were desperate for girl-time. Neither of them mentioned it, but they both knew there was a near but undefined deadline looming ahead too. Soon Christina would live elsewhere and their best friend playdates would be even fewer and further between, and require even more planning. Not only would they miss out on those shopping days, and cocktails, and taking their kids places together- they were also going to miss out on just seeing each other regularly at the barn. They’d already lost the see-each-other at Chelsea games time too. Firming up an appointment with the builder and the head of design to walk through her new riding facilities reinvigorated the sense of ending Christina had been trying to ignore for a little while.

“Yes, duh. Leo! Let’s do the outside line to the diagonal again one more time. Sit up nice and tall and count your 6, and then remember to ride straight into the corner and support with your left leg to get the lead change. Don’t let him slow down before he gets there or he can’t swap, okay?”

The forecasted snow never arrived that morning. The trainer was sitting atop the fence in front of the gazebo next to the outside ring so that she could chat with her friend during the lesson, instead of roaming around in the middle to have a better view of her student and be closer to him to help with advice and instructions when needed. Leo’s lessons were boring. He was at an age and a phase in his learning that just required a lot of practice. He needed saddle time more than anything. They couldn’t work on new things in every lesson, and he didn’t have a ton of things in his locker to work on improving, so his 30-45 minute sessions were repetitive. Sometimes he rode with his brother and they could make games out of their learning, and that was more fun from a teaching perspective. Solo lessons, not so much. Christina had to summon all of her dedication to make sure that she sounded enthusiastic while teaching, and not bored. Staying up late, working out, riding all of her horses before the blogger came for her interview, and having to take a bunch of jumps apart to make them Leo-sized sapped her will to stand in the middle and give the child her full attention and absolute best. She was phoning it in from the fence. Natasha didn’t mind that her son was being underserved.

“Where is your other one? He should be out here by now,” one mumbled to the other as Leo rallied his pony to get more canter for his outside line of 18” crossrails. “Lift your hands with your shoulders!”

“I don’t know. Maybe Cornflakes is uncooperative. Ugh sit up. Why does he still do this?” the Belgian girl groaned about her son, who had trouble righting his posture in the saddle after each little jump. He closed his hip angle in the two-point for the obstacle and then took too long to sit tall again, so his pony was heavy on the forehand for a couple of steps. Wizzy could deal with that. He could take care of himself and his rider too. It was an optics problem, and a form-for-the-future problem.

“He’ll get it. He knows what he has to do,” the coach reminded gently, with more understanding. “I don’t even tell him anymore because there’s no point. He has to get the muscle memory, and the strength. That’s why we do the same shit every day,” she added with a combo exhale/sigh. “Keep squeezing. Keep going,” she advised the small rider when he landed after the second jump a couple of yards to the girls’ right. Her eyes stayed on the pair heading for the corner. His mom’s noticed the group coming down the little hill from the barn just beyond that corner.

“There he is,” she said about Yannis, who was definitely late getting on. He was supposed to be warmed up and ready to start his lesson as soon as his brothers’ was over. “And I see the hold up.”

“Hm?” Moooore leeeeeeeeg, Christina thought in agonized slow motion narration. Wizzy’s engine was small and his throttle was “lazy”. He was only ever going to go as fast as he absolutely had to. Sometimes the trainer flexed her calf muscles as if to turn a spur into him and key him up from across the ring.

“Eden’s here. With Juan.”

Eurgh, I must be as addicting as he is. Which part of “this can’t be all the time” did he misunderstand? Or did he just hear me tell Lukas this morning that I’m making half and half lasagna for dinner? She took a quick glance to the right and saw the two Chelsea men approaching, and then refocused on Leo, who was getting ready to jump a single crossrail on the diagonal and then change leads before turning back onto the rail. Wizzy had “auto changes”, meaning he knew to swap on his own whenever he was asked to change direction. It was ugly and sometimes disjointed if he tried to swap without enough impulsion in his canter, so they were working on maintaining a consistent step to try to get smoother changes. Man, now I have to do a serious lesson with Yannis for Eden.

“That’s good, kiddo!” Christina told the other Hazard boy after he got a decent lead change, more through Wizzy’s doing than his. “Come over here so I can put your cooler on.”

“Was it really good or are you just tired of looking at him?” his mom questioned.

“It was better. I don’t see it getting perfect today, and perfect once is not perfect forever, so...meh.” No one is more proof of that than meeeee. I’ve been perfect. It’s been a long time.

“Hi honey, hi Chris,” Eden greeted the girls.

“Hi honey.” Natasha smooched him hello. “Why are you here and who is picking up the dog from the groomer?”

“I wanted to watch their training and Juan took too long in the pool so I made him bring me here instead of home. Amanda and Samy are getting the dog. He’s done already?” Eden asked disappointedly about Leo. Juan sometimes picked up Azpi and since Eden was across the street he caught a ride too, which annoyed Juan because Azpi’s wife usually picked him up at Cobham on her way home from wherever their daughter went for after school care, but she didn’t pick up Eden so Juan still had to take Eden home.

“I took the usual amount of time in the pool,” Juan said in his own defense as he kissed Natasha’s cheeks. He then leaned over the gazebo railing to squeeze Christina’s shoulders and kiss her cheek too. Hers was harder to get to because of the bulky Barbour scarf looped around her neck. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hi Daddy!”

“Hi Leo.”

“Hi Juan!”

“Hi Leo.”

“Was your training good? Did you do the best?” Father asked Son. Trainer frowned a bit, and then frowned more deeply at her frown. I always wish parents would ask their kids if they had fun first, before if they did well, but then I get annoyed at the parents who don’t care if the kids don’t do well and give their best. How come there are so many subjects that are so lose-lose with me?

“Wizzy was good,” Leo testified. His answer changed the direction of the curvature of Christina’s lips. She took the burgundy wool cooler off the fence and draped it over the pony’s butt so that they could go walk and warm down once the kid was done complaining that his dad would get to see Yannis jump and not him, and once his dad was done blaming it on Juan, who took it admirably and without further protest. The other kid came over to have his matching cooler removed for him, and to chitchat. He was prone to that. He loved socializing.

“Get moving,” Christina ordered, shooing him away. “Cornflakes is going to get cold. You’re already late. Go.” She then took her scarf off and asked the Spaniard to hold it for her since he took the tall chair closest to where she was sitting on the other side of the rail, and put on her crocheted and leather gloves. It was time to go raise the couple of fences she took apart for Leo, and take some poles off some others that were still 3-4’ from her earlier schooling, and move some around to accommodate the pony’s smaller stride. That was warming work and she had to ditch the scarf and open up her jacket or she’d get too hot, and then be extra cold later when she was standing or sitting still again. To be a riding coach is to adjust or change layers of clothing, footwear, and gloves all day long.

“Is that a hickey on your neck? It’s so...sprawling,” Natasha asked her about a big reddish-blue blob on the side and front of her throat while she was still turned around toward the gazebo to pass the scarf over the rail. It definitely wasn’t a hickey but it was definitely something the rider forgot about.

“Nah, Lukas accidentally tried to strangle me with...his roller-duck leash,” she lied. It was Juan. Juan strangled her. With his hand. On purpose. Because she liked it.

“Ouch. Is it like a rope burn?” Natasha was squinting from across the little round table between her and Christina.

“Yeah.” Christina zipped her adidas jacket up to make the mark harder to see, and hopped down off the fence without daring a look at the source of said mark. I wish I could just tell herrrrrrr, she groaned inside. Then I wouldn’t have to lie, AND I could relish making her jealous as hell about my double sex life. I do feel bad, however, than Schü and I haven’t had as much gush-to-friends-worthy sex lately. Really just once in...I don’t even know how long. And today is the first day I’ve even seen her since then besides New Year’s when we were with too many people...and I didn’t even think of it today...because I have...more recent sexual escapades on my mind. Hey, you know what, she asked herself on her way to the Red Bull-themed jump. It’s probably a really good thing that when he shows up here out of nowhere I don’t get the butterflies. When you start sleeping with someone and you get into the sex-honeymoon thing where after the first time you fiend to do it as much as possible, as soon as possible, you also get the butterflies when his texts pop up, or when you see him. I’m not having any butterflies. I’m not getting that hit of whatever the brain chemical is. That’s a good thing. Also, you know what else is a good thing? I don’t have to feel like banging Juan a bunch of times in quick succession is a sign that banging Schü is boring or unsatisfactory or even tired. The teddy bear does things that the Schü won’t. It’s not that it’s better. It’s different.

André would never squeeze my neck like that, no matter how many times I ask, and I would never ask him anyway because I know how upset it would make him. He never got over that night at Christmas- our first Christmas- when I basically begged him to abuse me. He never got over what I looked like in the morning with the hickeys, and bite marks, and bruises from his hands. I think my lip was even bleeding. I know I was bleeding from an even worse place when I got in the shower but he didn’t even know that and it was still so traumatic for him that he didn’t touch me for weeks, so... I don’t think he’d oblige if I said “Hey babe can you squeeze my neck until it leaves a mark?”. Or he might do it just because he wants to please, but he would feel awful about it and hate it, so I wouldn’t want him to. Also he would then be all afraid that I want to hurt myself and use him to do it. And that’s not the case. I just find it really hot when the teddy bear gets a little rapey. It’s a turn on. It’s such a departure from his normal character. Maybe it’s like I feel special that I get to see him go after what he wants that way because I’m so used to his selflessness, and it’s like controlling me in bed is something he wants and enjoys so much that he can’t maintain his usual commitment to that selflessness. Who needs to kiss and tell to a best friend to figure out how you feel about sex when you can do an awesome job sorting it out on your own while lowering jumps, Christina complimented herself on her mental fortitude as she wiggled a wing standard in to make the Red Bull oxer less wide.

Natasha tried to get the players to go help with the jump adjustments but one cited a footwear-related excuse and the other made the case that Christina could do it faster on her own because she wouldn’t have to keep stopping to tell them what to do. She stayed in the ring to do the lesson quite seriously, and mostly on her feet. During a little break for child and pony, she sat on her faux brick wall and took her warm and comfortable Dubarry boot off to remove her knee sock and take the tape off her ankle. Sometimes she forgot to cut or tear it away when she was finished riding if she wasn’t immediately changing her pants or if she didn’t have a reason to take her socks off. Leaving it on wasn’t good for it. It was getting better though. It still hurt when she rode, and it still hurt after she rode; it still hurt when she worked out, and it still hurt when she sat down at the end of the day or got in bed. It just hurt less. The percentage of time that the pain was excruciating instead of just a tolerable aching sensation was less than before her last treatment in Munich.

That regiment was exhausted and there wasn’t anything else readily available to try, so Christina and everyone in her close circle hoped the benefits were not yet fully realized. She didn’t talk about it much. Most people were accustomed to her pain being constant and predictable and didn’t even bother to ask about it anymore, and she didn’t want to go offering up that it was maybe feeling a little less bad, because she was afraid of tempting fate. She was afraid that was all she was going to get- that the benefits were already maxed out. At some point she was supposed to go back to the Die Mannschaft doctor for an “exit scan” to see if the injections eliminated the blood vessels that were supposedly responsible for her pain. If they weren’t gone by then, they weren’t going away. Each time she went for one of the three injections the scan showed fewer of them. She didn’t know how long it was reasonable to expect the sclerosing treatment to continue to work. She had no idea if her first injection would still be doing its thing when she got the second one three months later or if it would have already been “finished” before that, or if it was going to keep going for months and months and the next treatment was just to boost it, or double it, or what. Such was her reluctance to believe anything would ever “cure” her, she was never interested enough to ask really in-depth questions of her doctor.

“I’m gonna go get something warm to drink,” she announced to the adults after announcing to the child that his lesson was finished. It was much darker and colder out than when it started. Eden got up to go inside too, and Natasha told him she had to stay to wait for Yannis to be finished walking Cornflakes out, so he sat back down. Juan had evidently had enough of being cold. He hopped down the gazebo stairs to meet Christina at the gate.

“Want this back?” he asked with the proffered scarf when they fell into step. The rider took the navy and heather houndstooth wool but didn’t put it around her neck.

“How come you’re here?” she inquired instead, slightly cautious.

“Eden said he wanted to see the training so I offered to bring him here,” the player shrugged. “Did I overuse my open invitation?”

“No, I- I dunno. I want to make sure we’re not already being dumb about...this. Remember when I said it can’t be all the time?” Christina kept her voice low as they walked into the barn, and she made a beeline for the tack room instead of slowing to pat any of the many noses over doors along the way.

“I had no intention of coming over until he brought up the kids,” Juan insisted. “I’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“No, of course not. And watch your mouth,” his beneficial friend warned with raised brows as she leaned backward on the door, waiting to open it. Leo was inside cleaning his bridle, and he heard everything and repeated almost as much. “Want anything?”

“What are you having?”

“Oriental spice herbal tea. No caffeine.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’s the orangey one.”

“Okay.” Player followed rider inside and pretended to be interested in the bridle cleaning while she used the coffee machine to fill two mugs with hot water. Leo had to stand on an overturned bucket to even reach his bridle on the cleaning hook suspended from the ceiling, and he still struggled to reach the crownpiece and brow band, so he actually asked the Spaniard to hold it for him. “Chris, what are you doing for the rest of the day? Are you done with work or no?”

“I’m going to drink my tea and write a schedule on the board for tomorrow, and then I’m going home to make dinner and sit on the couch with Lukas.”

“Do I have another lesson tomorrow, Chris?” Leo asked with a hopeful lilt.

“Yes, with Kyle.”

“I like it better when it’s you!”

“I knooooow but I have to ride all my ponies in the morning and then go to Germany for something. You have football in the morning so you won’t be here when I am.” Christina dropped a teabag into each cup and set the timer on the microwave for 6 minutes. “Do you want to ride on your own or with Yannis? With Yannis is more fun when it’s Kyle, no?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m going to go write it down.”

By the time she was finished writing her horses and notes on the whiteboard for everyone to follow in the morning and ready to get her tea, Leo had Juan doing the tack cleaning for him and was sitting on a trunk drinking chocolate milk. The scene tugged at her heart a little. He really should go find a real girlfriend and get to work on the whole family thing, she thought. He really will be the most amazing dad, because he can make anybody feel better or feel okay, he has plenty of smarts to pass on, he knows how to have fun, he likes to engage with kids, and he actually has willpower. He will be strict enough not to cave to everything his kids want, but he’ll want them to be their own people and make their own mistakes and grow up as responsible and kind individuals. His kids will be so down to earth. Lukas is going to end up spoiled as hell. I know it.

Eden came in with Yannis’ saddle and bridle and looked around, helplessly unsure of what to do with them. Christina took the bridle and directed him to the proper saddle rack on the back wall. Having everybody around made her a touch sad, because it made her think about how different it would be in Dortmund. There she would only ever have Stefanie, Kyle, Tom, and whoever Tom wanted to work under him around- no Hazard kids to keep things interesting and cute, no Natasha for company, no Eden for the comedy, and no Juan for any of the multitude of things he offered with his presence. No one was just going to drop by in Dortmund, unless Mario got in the habit of showing up to see Stefanie. That relationship was ambiguous and confusing anyway. Christina realized as she watched Leo try to teach Juan how to tie up Wizzy’s bridle in a figure eight that she had no idea who she was even going to hang out with in her new home. Zoe was a friend but not a close one, and not one she even wanted to be closer to. It seemed unlikely to her that Marco would want to go on coffee and shopping dates with her. He’d want to hang out with André too, and obviously she would be spending time with her partner but the point of friends was to have other people to go out and do things with instead of just him. Stefanie and Kyle were students. One was a full-fledged employee as well and the other sort of worked for her too. The established pro knew not to mix those things up with close friendship. That could be a bad thing for all involved.

And worst of all the ominous thoughts that hit her in the tack room, she had no idea how she would even make new friends. When she moved to London she had Samantha at least, and she had a friend of André’s who wanted to get to know her because he had an instant crush on her. Natasha reached out to her to become friends, and that was in part because Christina was different from a lot of the other Chelsea girls. The Dortmund girls, as far as she knew, were a lot like those other Chelsea girls, or in other words, people who she didn’t have much in common with. In conclusion, she was really feeling the anticipatory pain of missing her circle, and missing the atmosphere at her place that she’d grown so used to and so fond of.

“Are you just waiting for everybody to get out of here?” Juan asked her when he was done messing around with Eden and Leo. His ex was just sitting at the table staring into space.

“No. I don’t need to be here for that,” she shrugged. “Are you leaving when they do? Do you want spicy traditional and pesto-Alfredo lasagna?”

“Why do you bother with making two different kinds?” he chuckled. “Isn’t it annoying enough to make just one, since I’m sure you make your own sauce and grate your cheese and-“

“Because I like to have both kinds, and I pack the pesto and Alfredo layered one full of veggies. Regular lasagna only has the veggies that are in the sauce. That’s not enough veggies for a balanced meal. I’d have to make a salad to go with it. I don’t want salad. I had salad for lunch.”

“Then why not just make the one with the vegetables?”

“Not enough protein. You can’t put meat in that. The moisture from the veggies would ruin the texture. Sometimes I make just the pesto-Alfredo lasagna and do meatballs on the side, because you can cut up the lasagna and put them in there and get the two sauces on them and it’s nice, then, but we just had meatballs the other night.”

“When did you start caring so much about veggies and protein and complete meals, hmm? I don’t remember you always being so careful about your eating as you have the last couple of years. I remember pizza and two cappuccinos for lunch, a Red Bull during shopping, and a bowl of pasta and cream for dinner with your soda.” The Spanish midfielder smiled teasingly while he sipped his tea across the table.

“When I started caring about looking after myself,” Christina shrugged. “When someone gave me the opportunity to care about things besides horses.” When somebody loved me and made me like myself enough to want to take care of myself.

“I don’t think anyone gave you anything.”

“Whatever,” she chuckled, feigning amusement just to avoid getting any more pensive. The two friends, and lovers, were having a conversation about one thing but really talking about another, and she didn’t want to get into the second thing. She didn’t want to get into an examination of the effect of falling in love with André on the rest of her life, and what she thought of herself, and what mattered. “Do you want half and half lasagna or no?”

“Sure.”

“No dessert though,” she warned, still speaking of one thing and meaning another. Juan knew what she meant. There was no sex on the menu. She was, at least in her own head, adamant about that. I don’t feel like doing that, I don’t want to do it three days in a row and exploit this whole thing, and to be honest, I’m a little sore from last night, she reminded herself, shoring up her resolve. There is even a little spot so raw that it stings when I pee. Just friends tonight.

She put him in charge of grating regular mozzarella for the inside of her lasagna and slicing fresh mozzarella for the top once they said goodbye to the others and went up to the house. The goodbye was slightly self-conscious on her part because she worried about the optics of Juan staying for dinner. That wasn’t an unusual or suspicious thing on any given day. She worried it looked suspicious because both Hazards knew they went to Spain together the day before. Yannis was taking forever to put his stuff away and she didn’t want to just wait them out. Lasagna-making was a lengthy process for her. While her dinner guest took care of the cheese, she had to defrost some homemade spicy marinara, brown ground beef and sausage, make pesto in the food processor, parboil the noodle sheets, and reduce cream and butter on the stove for the Alfredo. Once the two types were assembled in separate glass casserole dishes and set in the oven, Christina left Juan to babysit Lukas so she could take a quick shower, and when she was finished with that she took advantage of the privacy upstairs to call André.

“Are you totally pooped?” she asked him once they apologized to one another for not having more contact throughout the day. Their excuses matched. They were busy. They were both on other people’s schedules.

“Beyond totally pooped. This team doesn’t do “ease the guys back into work after holiday”. It could have been worse. I’m glad I tried to do some activity every day. What about you? How was your day, pretty girl?” André let out a long exhale- the kind one does when finally relaxing after a long day. He was lying in his hotel bed and wishing it were dinnertime. He’d been there a while already. Talking to his girl just helped to unwind more, and feel less drained by fitness training and benchmark testing that seemed to go on all day long. Vacation agenda to physical work agenda wasn’t the only tough transition. Being with family 24/7 to being with the team 24/7 was also a shock to the system. He missed Lukas. He missed Christina. He missed being surrounded by people who really cared what he had to say, and who knew about everything he might want to talk about. His friends and teammates had their own stuff to talk about.

“It was okay. The blog lady was nice. I had to make stuff up because I don’t have that many secrets to success. It’s a little lonely at the barn right now,” the rider admitted. “Stef rides before I get there, the guys are busy doing work. You’re not around to visit for lunch and bring Lukas. Espen keeps him here at the house, out of the cold. I didn’t even bring the dogs out with me today because I didn’t want them getting in the way of the blog lady and her camera guy. I was going to come home and see Lukas for a little before she got here but then I realized I needed to put some makeup on and find a clean adidas jacket. Nat was here after that with the kids, and Eden got Juan to bring him over to watch too, and that was better but now I’m thinking about how lonely it’s going to be at the new place.”

“You’ll be with Tom every day. Isn’t that a plus?” At least she’s telling me how she feels, the German player thought. And in a rational, calm way instead of a tantrum.

“Yeah, but plus one Tom doesn’t cancel out minus one Isa, four Hazards, one Juan, Sam...”

“Maybe you’ll get to know my teammates’ girls better and some of their kids will want to ride,” he suggested, trying to sound optimistic.

“What are they going to ride, babe? I don’t have school horses and ponies to teach beginner lessons on.”

“We could-“

“And I don’t want any.”

“You’re a smart, fun girl to be around, Prinzessin. I’m sure you’ll make friends. Zoe must have some interesting people that she hangs out with. You have Stefanie, and Kyle. Maybe they meet some new friends in their apartment building, and then you get to meet them too. Same with Espen.” Not. Chris doesn’t make friends. She spent like 30 weekends a year with Daniel for three or four years before she decided they could be friends. But, André countered his own instincts, still optimistic. I’m going to spend a lot of time with her and Mausi. I’m going to take them out to do things so that they like the area. I want it to be home for them. “And I have friends here, or near here, that you haven’t gotten to know yet. They have girlfriends. Let’s just focus on getting ourselves settled, and getting the barn settled, and then everything else comes on its own, just like when you first moved in with me.” He wanted to keep things calm, and extinguish anxiety before it blossomed again. He had his own anxiety about how his girl would adapt. His most incessant worry was that she would use every possible opportunity to go back to London to visit Natasha and Juan. If she spent two weekends out of every month at horse shows, one in London, and only one at home, things would get bad between them again quickly. They still hadn’t decided on a plan for their English estate either. They hadn’t decided whether to list it for sale or to try to lease it out, and if they sought a tenant if it would be for the house and the stable together, one or the other, both but separate, just the cottage, etc. Independently of that decision, André thought about the consequences of Christina having a house or a cottage available to flee to. But the more he thought about that, the more he thought it would actually be better if she had her own place to go to when she wanted to visit London to see friends or for work, because the alternative was probably staying with Juan. Surely, he figured, she would choose his apartment over a guestroom at the Hazard house, or a hotel.  

“Yeah,” Christina replied noncommittally. She thought less about what he actually said and more about the way he said it, and that he said it. She appreciated that he was trying to address her issues in a somewhat sensible way instead of just assuring her everything would be fine without providing any substance or reason. Also she just missed him, and hearing him try to be comforting made it worse.

“What are you and Mausi up to tonight? Want to watch a movie with me later, after dinner? You can pick, and talk through the whole thing.”

“I have lasagna in the oven and Juan is still here.”

“Again?” Come on. I said they could fuck if they want, not move in together.

“Not like that again. He did the Eden-Azpi carpool today and Eden wanted him to bring him here instead of home. He’s not staying. And I would love to watch a movie with you later. Call me whenever you’re ready.” I’m def bringing the puppies upstairs to get in bed with me for Moviefone time, Christina thought. “Moviefone time”, named after the movie ticket hotline and website she used when she was a teenager, was how she labeled watching a movie with someone in two different places, linked via phone call or Face Time. Ironically, she first began the practice with Juan, in Hong Kong. “I would love” was no exaggeration, however. The only thing she wanted more was to watch a movie with André in person instead of over the phone.

“I trust you, Prinzessin, but please don’t try to find out exactly where the line is between what I understand and don’t mind, and what hurts.”

“I’m not. I have my own line too and I think it’s actually closer than yours. He knows that too. He respects it.”

“He stayed last night, though, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing that matters.”

“Use your head, all right?” I don’t want to regret this, the footballer sighed inside. What’s so great about him that she’s hardly been away from him in like two and a half days? She was apart from him so much while I was home that she has to make up for it now? I don’t even believe the things that come to mind right now, but it’s so hard not to think of all the bad possibilities. I just want to trust her, and feel like it’s the right thing.

“I’m using my head and my heart and both are for you.” His partner was pretty quiet. The new situation was already beginning to seem like a problem, and that was not at all what she wanted. It was supposed to be part of the solution. She wanted to be more emphatic in her own defense but that didn’t feel like the right play, and she didn’t want there to even be a game. “I need to go make sure my lasagnas aren’t burning.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Do you have to go? I wasn’t saying bye. There’s this crazy benefit to mobile phones, known as “mobility”. I can walk from my vanity all the way downstairs to the kitchen with the phone.”

“Smartass.”