#I don't know if we have a name for the second half of a reflexive trigger so I just called it the reflex trigger

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 6

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Maybe it was an attempt to get over him, or maybe it was just from embarrassment, but you'd decided to avoid James. The only problem was, your best friend was making that very, very difficult to do.

wc [4.6k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 5 - Chapter 7 ->

The weekend had ended without excitement, if you don't count kissing your best friend and practically getting rejected by said best friend the next day to be excitement.

As much as you willed it not to, the events of the past two days played in your mind well into Monday, perhaps being the reason why you skipped out on breakfast in the Great Hall and showed up to Defense Against the Dark Arts with hardly a minute to spare before class started.

Your professor this year, Professor Higglebottom, silly as her name was, was the adventurous type and always started class with some hands-on interaction. That's why you all crowded against the walls instead of taking a seat at one of the desks in the front of the room.

You were sandwiched between Marlene and Sirius, the latter you knew was trying to get you to respond to his whispers. You weren't much in the mood for whatever kind of conversation he was trying to spark up, especially not after the one you'd had with him last night that you most definitely did not lose sleep over.

"Alright class," your professor announced. Her bob haircut bounced lightly as she took quick circling steps before your class's waiting eyes. "Let's begin with a quick review of last week's shielding charm. Pair up with a classmate and practice, and no harmful hexes this time, yes?"

With a snicker from across the room, Higglebottom waved her wand and the desks all gracefully swept into organized rows against the far wall, leaving the center of the room open for spell practice.

Within the blink of an eye half the room had begun to shuffle around in search of a partner, and it hit you with a surge in your chest that you and James always paired up in this class. You stayed rooted in your spot against the wall for a second, looking around amongst the chaos. Sure enough, that head of curls and those eyes like honey were on the other side of the room, searching the crowd for someone—for you.

Maybe you weren't exactly thinking in that moment, but you acted before you had time to consider much of anything.

"Hey Alice!" your voice was raised to almost a shout that alarmed even you, and Alice turned to you in surprise.

"Hey," she said, and before she could get another word out you were practically running to her.

"Could we be partners?"

You figured that it might've been the desperate look in your eyes that had her nodding yes, but it didn't matter because at least you didn't have to pair up with James. Facing that awkwardness and ignoring the twinge in your chest whenever you saw him seemed impossible right then.

You walked over to the front left corner of the room with Alice, catching James in your peripheral. He was watching you, you knew he was. It only made avoiding him even more difficult in your heart.

You began practicing with Alice as Higglebottom instructed, though you put up your shielding charm with just a fraction of a second left before Alice's stunning spell would've sent you flying.

"Woah," she said, and you took a second to shake out your arm before preparing for the next round. "You alright?"

"What?" you asked, half listening. "Yeah. Just slow reflexes, I guess. Sorry." She sent another shining blue stream at you from her wand. "Protego!"

This time you blocked it properly, but it didn't leave Alice feeling satisfied.

"It's just," she began, flicking her wand again wordlessly. "Don't you usually partner up with Potter?"

You tried your best to contain any reaction, focusing on saying the spells as instructed. You shrugged. "I don't know, I wouldn't say always."

Alice laughed. "Okay, so ninety-nine out of a hundred times, then." You gave her a look that was half joking half annoyed, and she smiled with a tilt of her and a gesture that said it was your turn to aim some spells her way. You flicked your wand with a wordless spell, and she put up her shield in no time, continuing. "I was just wondering if everything was okay, is all."

"No, yeah, everything's fine." Your shoulders felt tense as you sent out another spell. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, for one thing, he keeps looking over here." As much as you tried not to let her words affect you, the thought of them made your heart race and your forehead crinkle anxiously.

You shook your head busily, lips tight. "Don't know why he would be." That was a lie of course, and you knew it deep in your bones as you said it. You fought the urge to ask her exactly how he was looking at you as you sent another spell her way. "Rictusempra!"

Alice deflected the spell with yet another shield from her wand, and you could feel your focus slipping from you with every exchange between the two of you on the topic. "Maybe he wants to talk to you?" she reasoned, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

"I'd rather not." With that, you prepared another spell.

Alice glanced at something somewhere behind you. "Well he's coming this way."

"What?"

You panicked, and your spell shot completely in the wrong direction, aiming diagonally at Higglebottom's desk instead. You cringed as your gust of wind had a stack of papers go flying, falling through the air without any grace.

Everyone in the room stopped their dueling at the commotion, and Higglebottom let out a tiny gasp from her position across the room. You stood there, stunned. But somehow, the most mortifying part of it to you was the sight of James watching it all unfold a few feet away from you, looking like he both wanted to laugh and ask you a thousand questions that you didn't know the answer to.

"Well, that's alright," rang Higglebottom, and you could've ran up and hugged her when she clapped her hands and made everyone go back to practicing spells. That included James, who wandered back over to a smug looking Sirius. She daintily pointed her wand towards the mess and it was cleaned up in a matter of seconds, though your embarrassment lingered deep in the pit of your stomach and refused to leave you.

Your professor had spent the rest of the class going over proper spell-casting stances and dueling strategies, and you'd found that the more you focused on your classes, the less your head seemed to run amuck with thoughts of a certain someone.

You'd spent the rest of rest of the day doing just that, paying attention to your professors' lessons for every class like your life depended on it, and speeding off in between each one.

By the time you made it to Potions you felt like your mind was finally calming down, though the world loved to test your patience. You had to walk straight past James on your way to your seat—the seat that was right in front of his—and he didn't give you the grace of pretending not to see you. His eyes followed you the whole way to your seat, and somehow it felt like you could still feel them lingering on the back of your head as you sat down. You sighed; if he could do you the favor of picking up on your attempt to get over him and just go along with it, your life would be a whole lot easier.

"You alright?"

You turned to see Sebastian sitting in his seat next to you, looking as dashing as ever with his tie undone from the uncharacteristically warm weather that day. The fact hadn't left you that Sebastian was apparently a top prospect for girls in your year looking to find a date.

He looked at you with concern, though his expression was still warm. He was the second person to ask you that that day.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said back, though the way he looked at you made you feel suddenly insecure. You patted at the back of your hair. "Do I not look it?"

"No, no," came Sebastian quickly, laughing slightly. "You look great. Trust me."

From the way his eyes hovered over you, you felt like both hiding from embarrassment and blushing. You were about to thank him until Slughorn stood up from his desk, tone somewhat more bubbly than usual as he spoke.

"Say, my eager students," he began, and you felt the class collectively sigh from around you. "The air does feel fitting for some friendly competition today, does it not?"

With his statement, the room seemed to perk up from their afternoon drag, though you felt a sense of dread settle into your stomach. The word "competition" said in a room full of Gryffindors and Slytherins was practically a death sentence. Slughorn didn't pay it any mind.

"Each brewing station should prepare a Wound-Cleaning Potion within the hour, and I'll determine the most well-brewed potion by the end of class. The winning group gets five points extra credit."

If the prospect of competition didn't scare you already, the fact that you were never any good at Potions definitely did the job. Sebastian turned to you with an optimistic grin on his face, something casual and confident, all while you felt the exact opposite.

"Don't be so worried," he said, like he could read from your face how you felt already. "We're gonna do great. Half the others can't even talk to each other without ... that happening."

He nodded over to where Sirius and Slytherin Quidditch Captain Marcus Craggy were already arguing, practically shoving each other as they both stood up to get ingredients.

You snorted into your hand. "Maybe you're right."

Between the two of you, you sorted out a plan of action and went to get the ingredients while Sebastian tended to warming the cauldron. If your staying-hyper-focused strategy went according to plan, you had confidence that with Sebastian's Potions skills you could actually do well.

You measured out the proper amount of the necessary ingredients, taking what you needed from the stacks of shelves aligning the classroom wall. You handed off the jar of dandelion root to a girl next to you before turning around, but that was when you turned right into a body.

You looked up. It was James—of course it was. You knew for a fact you did a horrible job at hiding your alarm, but were still in your ignore-your-feelings-and-focus-on-school mood so you didn't think twice before awkwardly avoiding looking into his eyes.

"Sorry," you said quickly. You briefly smiled at him, though you were sure you looked anything but casual.

"It's okay-" he began, his voice fading away as you rushed past him within a second.

You felt horrible.

Focus, focus, focus. When you returned back to your table and a waiting Sebastian, you did just that.

He naturally took the lead, since you didn't know the first thing about brewing a Wound-Cleaning Potion, but he was surprisingly understanding and explained each step in a way that made more sense than anything Slughorn had ever said. There weren't even any of the usual slip-ups that happen when you brew a potion yourself, though you couldn't say the same for the groups around you.

About halfway through class you peaked over to where Sirius and Marcus Craggy were working and saw the monstrosity that was their cauldron bubbling over the surface, a swampy green that most certainly was not the right color.

You heard a mousy laugh come from behind them, Peter giggling at the sight of his friend's failure. Within a second his own partner yelled his name, and with a terrified look he focused back on his own potion. It was safe to say your group was working better than any of your friends'.

In no time you were all finishing up your potions and Slughorn had begun coming around to review them, hands tucked behind his back like a true judge.

The first cauldron he'd surveyed belonged to Frank Longbottom and a red-haired Slytherin girl who you knew Alice was uneasy over. And, now that you got a good look at her, you could see she was the same girl you heard whispering about you and James's supposed broom closet snogging. So maybe the slight amusement you felt when Slughorn looked at her and Frank's cauldron and immediately grimaced wasn't completely impersonal.

He did the same to a few other groups, granting some an impressed nod until he finally reached your table. He gave Sebastian an enthusiastic and familiar smile, and nodded at you without any particular warmth, which you ignored.

The two of you stepped back and watched as Slughorn leaned over the side of the cauldron, peering it into it wordlessly. Sebastian glanced at you from the corner of his eye with a curious look and you fought a smile.

When you turned back to your potion, Slughorn's face was lit up satisfactorily. He clapped his hands together. "Splendid! Absolutely splendid."

You felt like you were hearing wrong, like words as positive as those could've never come from Slughorn in regards to you, but sure enough, he was talking directly to you. You were definitely sure you were dreaming then.

"Say, I believe we may have found our winners!"

Your jaw was hanging then, and Sebastian was beaming proudly. You were about to turn to him and celebrate, when a Gryffindor boy at a table in the corner of the room shouted out in protest.

"You didn't even look at the last three groups!"

Slughorn turned to him at first in alarm, but then his expression then morphed into a tightlipped smile you could tell was meant to be sympathetic. "I'm sorry dear boy, but I can see from here they're all the wrong color." He scanned the row of cauldrons behind you. "I can also smell them."

The room chuckled at that, and Slughorn turned back to you and Sebastian unbothered and cheerful.

"I expected nothing less from one of my star students, yes?" He shook Sebastian's hand firmly like he was an old family friend, and then, to your surprise, held out his hand to you too. You took it, feeling suspicious of how well this was going. "Very impressive work today." He smiled at you more authentically then you'd ever seen him smile at you, and you felt like bursting from happiness, though you watered it down to a prompt "Thank you."

"You two pat yourselves on the back," said Slughorn, regarding you both one last time before taking his leave.

You turned slowly to Sebastian, sporting the biggest smile you'd worn in days. The groups that weren't as upset over the loss clapped lightly from around the room, and you were so happy you could've literally jumped for joy.

"We did it!" You looked at Sebastian, and he was grinning down at you with a smile that met his eyes, looking half like he wanted to laugh at your overexcitement. You were so happy you even ran up and hugged him, not exactly thinking before you did it but it didn't matter because he hugged you back, chuckling.

Right before you went to pull away, you heard a bubbling noise coming from next to you. It grew, rumbling and groaning, and not a second more went by before the potion behind yours splattered all over.

You both stepped only slightly back before the mess reached you. You were lucky you were standing where you were, because most of the potion got on Sebastian instead. That didn't change the fact that it made an absolute mess.

"Goodness!" Slughorn shouted, and you stepped away from Sebastian right away, scanning over the mess the cauldron had made. A blue-gray goo covered the left half of his shirt, not an insane mess but still a concerning amount of slimy potion to be covered in.

You turned to the table who'd been sitting behind you, and realized with a sense of both dread and annoyance that it had been James's cauldron to explode.

You looked at him in dismay as he stood there, backed away from the table like the explosion had come completely as a surprise to him. But, judging from the way he took in Sebastian's appearance without so much as a grimace, it very well could've been just the opposite.

James's table partner, the Slytherin boy on the smaller side, looked beyond mortified. "Oh Merlin," he began, arms outstretched towards Sebastian. "We're so sorry, I don't know what happened, I-"

"Now, now," Slughorn interrupted, moving swiftly over to where the mess was. With a face that showed he was trying very hard not to react, he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell that cleaned up the mess from the desks and floor, and another one for Sebastian's shirt.

"That should take care of the mess, though I do recommend you pay Madam Pomfrey a visit, Sebastian. The possible side effects of an improperly-brewed potion are quite impossible to determine externally." He patted Sebastian on the back, who looked not angry but dazed, if anything, and turned to James and his partner. "And as for you two, pay better mind for what ingredients you're using. Next time, I won't be so kind about cleaning up for you."

They both nodded obediently, James wearing the placating face he always did when confronted by a teacher, and staring down at his feet. Was he ashamed? Hiding laughter? You couldn't tell, but certainly had suspicions, knowing his dislike of Sebastian for some unidentifiable reason.

Slughorn dismissed the class, and Sebastian gathered his things to go to what you assumed would be the nurse's office.

"Let me go with you," you said.

He turned to you in surprise, shrugging his bag over his shoulder. "Oh, don't worry about it."

"It's no problem, really." You smiled at him assuredly and he let in, waiting for you to get your things and walk with him out of the classroom. "Are you okay?" you asked once you turned the corner. "The color of that potion was definitely concerning."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Or at least, I feel okay."

"Good."

The two of you walked in silence for a moment, and you let your thoughts drift to the class you'd just finished, and how amazing and odd it felt to get a handshake from Slughorn. Soon you found a smile creeping into your cheeks.

"Are you laughing at me?"

You escaped your daydreaming, whipping your head to Sebastian who was looking at you with a disbelieving smile of his own. "What? No! Of course not," you assured him, shaking your head rapidly. "I'm just really happy our potion did so well."

"Yeah, me too."

"I mean seriously, I don't think I've ever smiled so much in a Potions class. Or that Slughorn's ever said anything that nice to me." And you meant it. Visions of nights spent practically crying over a bad potions grade flashed through your mind.

"Well," Sebastian began, eyes looking down at yours with fondness. "You deserve it."

You looked back at him, feeling like he really meant those words. A kind of odd feeling simmered in your chest, but it was warm and you invited it as you kept walking beside him.

"Hey," he began again after a beat, shifting his attention fully to you. "I've been meaning to ask you something-"

"Can we talk?"

Both of you stopped as you reached the staircase at the end of the hall and, somehow, there stood James. He was looking at you with an intention behind his eyes that flickered over you like he hadn't noticed Sebastian was with you at all.

You frowned at him, eyes glancing between both he and Sebastian in both shyness and irritation. "You know, I'm kind of in the middle of something-"

"It's an emergency." James leaned closer, eyes wide. "About the you know what."

You did not 'know what,' but James didn't seem to pick up on that. Your confusion only extended the interaction and had Sebastian stepping away.

"It's okay," he said to you with a neutral tug of his lips. "I'll talk to you later." Before you could tell him it was fine, that you wanted to hear what he had to ask you, he'd smiled and turned to climbed up the steps, leaving you alone with James.

You turned fully to face him, your irritation masking whatever nervousness you felt at finally looking him in the eyes. "What kind of 'emergency' was so important that you had to interrupt my conversation with-"

"Sebastian Vance. I know." He said his name like it was a chore, and it only had your forehead creasing even more. "There's, um, a problem with the prank."

"Really?" you deadpanned, staring at him blankly. "That was the emergency that couldn't wait?"

"You haven't let me finish," argued James defensively.

"Okay," you added, tone impatient as you motioned for him to continue.

"Wormtail lost the list of passcodes to the Slytherin common room." He ended his sentence as if there was more that he wanted to say, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"And?"

"And ... we were wondering if you could find a way to get them from Vance."

"What?!" you shouted, lowering your voice when you realized how loud you were being. "No, have you gone mad?"

"Oh, come on," James said, tone much too lax for your liking.

"You really expect me to trick my friend into letting us prank him?"

James let out a huff that sounded like a scoff, raising his brows at you. "Oh really? He's your friend now?"

"Yeah, he is." You crossed your arms, staring at him disbelievingly. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem." James shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, peering somewhere down below and not at you. "Just didn't know you guys were so close, is all."

Something about the way he spoke was infuriating you, tone casual but clearly masking judgement, as if he had any kind of control over who you could and couldn't speak to.

You scoffed. "Why are you being so weird about this?"

"I'm not."

"Really?" you deadpanned. "You interrupted my conversation with him when I was trying to walk him to the nurse after your potion exploded all over him, right after we won-"

"You don't really think I did that on purpose, do you?"

"I don't know!" you shouted. "With your house rivalry, and the way you lot are so obsessed with pranking people-"

"'You lot'?"

You stopped, realizing how much this was escalating when you really didn't want it to be. You pressed a hand to your forehead. "Sorry that's... that's not fair." You shook your head, as if doing that would rid you of the mess that was your mind right then. You hated arguing with James. "I'm just annoyed right now, is all."

"Yeah," James said with a nod, voice quieted. "Look," he breathed. "I'm sorry I interrupted you. And I really didn't mean for my potion to go exploding all over the place. I don't know what happened. I guess I was just ... distracted, or something, when we were brewing it. I'm sorry."

You let your eyes scan over his face, noting that he truly did look sorry. Something churned in your gut, something that you filed away as uninportant in that moment. "It's alright," you sighed.  "Although, it's not really me you should be apologizing to."

It took him a second before he caught what you were referring to, him realizing with a look to the side and a half-laugh. "Yeah right."

"James." You gave him a warning look, and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright. I'll apologize to him."

You uncrossed your arms, feeling a bit better. "Thank you."

He tipped his head in acknowledgment, and you stood there for a moment debating if there was anything more to be said, knowing in the back of your mind that there certainly was, but you took a step up the stairs anyway.

"Wait." James took a light hold on your wrist that seemed to burn right through the skin, the contact making you feel unstable on the steps. "That's ... that's not all I wanted to talk to you about."

You stilled, glancing over his unsure expression. "Oh, okay." You waited for him to say something, but he stayed silent, out of character for him. He didn't meet your eyes as he thought, throat bobbing. "James?"

"Are we okay?"

He looked up and into your eyes then, the motion striking you as you were more level with him now from your stance on the step.

You felt your heart rate pick up. "What?"

He drew his hand away finally to run it uneasily through his curls. "I just feel like you're ..." He trailed off, voice going soft.

"Like I'm what?"Slightly heartbroken? Avoiding you? You knew exactly what he meant, of course, and it was eating away at you to lie straight to him.

"It's nothing." He waved a hand, though you could sense his seriousness in the tenseness of his stance and the darting of his eyes. "I just wanna make sure everything's alright between us."

You nodded because you felt the same way, though you knew the answer. "Yeah, I get that."

He looked expectantly at you, eyes intent but not prying. "So, is it?"

A beat went by before you could answer, your throat going dry with the effort of your lie. "Yeah," you assured him. "Of course."

He seemed to visibly relax, and the way his features softened made your shoulders sink. "Good. Great."

Were you a bad person for this? Maybe. Probably. But avoiding him had felt like best coarse of action and the only way to get by, at least for the time being. You knew, or hoped, that eventually things would go back to normal. Or rather, the 'normal' that existed before you ever had feelings for James, if that even really existed.

He offered you a smile of his pink lips that eased your thoughts even if only for a moment. Then, he leaned in and hugged you, and you felt like melting for too many reasons. You were at a height that let one of his curls brush against your cheek just like it did the night you kissed him—ignore, ignore, ignore—only, you weren't sure how much longer you could keep doing that.

If you weren't going to avoid James all together anymore, than you'd have to just avoid certain situations; situations like this, where you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your own, something dizzying yet comforting in a way that made you want to hide in your dorm.

You pulled away, reminding yourself that hugging him was the last thing you should be doing, and turned towards the steps again. "Let's go find the guys, figure out all this prank business."

"Good idea," James said, who followed you up the stairs without missing a beat. You hadn't reached the top step before he froze, ending up a few steps behind you.

"Crap," he cursed.

You frowned down at him. "What's the matter?"

"I just remembered that I booked the Quidditch pitch for this time."

Your jaw dropped for a second, lips curling up at the stupefied look on his face. You waved your hand towards the top of the steps. "Well then, go! Hurry!"

James's face set in with a hilariously determined expression and he set off up the steps in a jumble of robes mixed with his bag hanging limply off his shoulder. He passed you with ease, zooming off down the hallway.

"See you!" he called. He turned over his shoulder with a grin before disappearing around the corner, and your heart hurt at how easily laughter came to you around him. Because he's your best friend.

You reminded yourself of that fact with a small but stern nod, probably looking like you'd lost your mind standing alone in that hallway. It didn't matter, because you were going to keep those thoughts out of your mind from then on, and that was the end of that. Or, at least that was what you told yourself all the way back to the common room.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11

[soliblomst]

Monday Snippet (Late)

Thank you, @kk1smet for the tag (you're so talented, omg. I'll never get tired of telling you that) Anyway, here's a snippet of my new Drarry WIP! The name of this fic will be "When We Were Angels" (if I don't change my mind), and it will tell the story of Draco and Harry growing up together in an orphanage (and so much more drama afterwards: Durmstrang, Norway, Voldemort... hehe). It's my first fiction written entirely from Draco's POV, focusing more on his journey than Harry's!

Here is a snippet from Chapter 2:

He had found Harry sitting on the grass behind the wooden shed next to Mother Betsy's study, playing with a twig and a figurine he had won in class earlier that day. After watching him with great interest for several minutes, Draco finally approached and crouched down in front of him.

His attention briefly turned to the toy. It was a boring miniature of a dragon that didn’t even move except for its wings. It was covered in mud, just like the piece of wood and Harry’s shoes. 

Realising that Harry was staring at him, he raised his head and met his gaze. He looked weird, with his wide-open green eyes, the long, strange scar that took up half his tiny face, his dishevelled hair, and his brown skin. In reality, he looked so lovable that he was insufferable. 

“Why are you so dark?” Draco finally asked defiantly. 

Harry scowled. Turning his attention back to his feet, he poked at the mud with the dragon’s tail. 

“You look dirty,” added Draco, not wanting his provocation to fail. 

“And you look like a ghost,” Harry muttered. 

Draco grimaced, but he was pleased. The fight had finally begun. 

“Your scar’s ugly.” 

“You’re uglier.” 

“No,” Draco said. “You are.” 

Harry didn’t answer but looked away from his toy again to glare at him. 

“Why are you mean to me?” asked Harry. 

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You said I looked dirty.”

Draco shrugged. “You do.” 

Everything happened very quickly. A second later, Harry had dropped his toys on the grass and lunged at Draco, his small hands clenched into fists. By reflex, Draco grabbed the first thing he could reach: the boy’s curly hair. As Harry flailed blindly at Draco, throwing wild punches that always missed and hit nothing but air, Draco pulled out a lock of hair with all his might, causing his rival to yelp.

“OUCH!” 

----

Illustration: Artist Unknown (if you know, please tell me!)

I tag @itsphantasmagoria @sunfl0w3rmel0n and @glassf1re and anyone who wants to join! If you have a WIP to share (art or fic) ❤️

[winnietheshit]

Snatching snitches (prologue)

Remus x reader

I'd like to thank @unconventional-lawnchair for helping me when things weren't coming along as hoped. I guess you could consider it a collaboration

Series summary: When Y/N, the world famous pro seeker makes a dumb decision, she has no choice but to do anything to clear her name. Even if that means becoming a teacher at hogwarts.

Chapter summary: Y/N is playing the deciding match against Spain in the quidditch world cup, her cocky attitude and poor decission making might make for some problems.

warnings: cursing? descriptions of bones breaking, use of alcohol.

The crowd outside was growing impatient, only a few minutes and the two finalist teams of the quidditch world championship would come flying onto the pitch. The fans tried their best to keep their drinks cool under the blaring sun, the tribunes filled with witches and wizards dressed in their favored team's colors. On one side there were the Spanish fans, dressed in red and yellow. On the other side the Irish fans, sporting green and orange outfits.

As Maxwell scanned the crowd his worry grew deeper, only a few minutes before the game and their star player was still missing. Rowan Maxwell, Iredland's national team's captain was used to his players running off before games to converse with fans. But today he wasn't having it, he turned a corner in the hopes of finding (Y/ln). And there she was, not a care in the world sitting on a rock with a firewhiskey in hand.

'What the hell do you think you're doing? Drinking before a game, have you gone mad?!'

Maxwell tried to grab the half-empty bottle from her but her reflexes were sharp as ever.

'Don't get your knickers in a twist Maxie.'

(Y/n) smirked, Maxwell was always on edge before the big games. (Y/n) would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy getting on his nerves. Max however wasn't smiling, his eyebrows knit together in worry. He was trying to figure out if she was drunk or just an ass... as usual.

'(Y/n) we have to play in less than five minutes, I cannot afford to lose this game because you' he gestured to the bottle 'have a problem.' He took a deep breath, his face becoming more serious, cold even. He pointed a gloved finger at her, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate her into complying. 'If you don't catch that damn snitch, you're off the team, you hear me?'

(Y/n) grimaced, before returning to her previous smug look. 'Maxie I'm not drunk, I'm gonna catch your dumb snitch and I'm gonna give the fans a spectacle, just like I always do. Honestly, if I didn't know any better I'd say you don't believe in me.' She took another swing of fire whiskey before continuing. 'If you really think I'm too intoxicated you can always swap me out for Kelly, I'm sure he'll catch the snitch eventually... What am I saying, you won't replace me, I'm the best fucking seeker in the world!'

Maxwell sighed, he knew it was true of course. Ever since (Y/n Y/ln) joined the team they've won three world championships in a row. Still, Max couldn't shake the feeling that her arrogance would end up being their downfall. Without speaking another word he took the nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey and walked towards the stadium, too busy worrying about the competition to give (Y/n) the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

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

The whistle blows and in the blink of an eye, all fourteen players were in the air, seven players in red and yellow uniforms and seven players in green and orange uniforms. Maxwell leaves no time for the Spanish team to react before sending the quaffle through the smallest goal. Meanwhile (Y/ln) soars above the two teams, scanning the pitch for the tiniest speck of gold. (Y/n)'s vision blurs for a moment but she brushes the feeling of dizziness off. 'Just nerves' she tells herself.

For a split second, the blaring sun reflected in the corner of her eye, the snitch was hovering right below the Spanish tribunes. Without giving it any thought she dove after the little gold-winged ball, behind her the opposing seeker followed in quick pursuit. Before (Y/ln) could reach the snitch, it disappeared from her line of vision. But instead of stopping the steep dive into the tribune's infrastructure, she picked up the speed. Only moments before flying headfirst into the wooden beams she pulled up the handle of her broom, spinning around mid-air. She watched the other guy ram his broom into the red cloth and disappear with a startled scream.

'I don't do freebies Torrez, you should've known that by now' (Y/n) mocked the now groaning seeker. Torrez wasn't the brightest wizard but despite his ''shortcomings'' he was strong competition, not only was he much faster than (Y/n) thanks to his brand new firebolt. He was also known to play dirty, often keeping tabs on the other seeker in the hopes of snatching the snitch before them. The way he played was a gamble, but when you have the fastest broom on the pitch... well you get the idea.

The next three minutes were stressful, waiting for the snitch to show up again. And hoping she would see it before that Spanish wanker Torrez. While listening to the commentator her head became heavier and the bright colors in the crowd started to blend together. Still (Y/ln) couldn't admit to herself she was drunk, 'only one bottle' could not have such a grand impact. Surely not, even though the hot weather made her even more dehydrated, even though she downed the bottle much quicker than she should've.

'AND MADDEN GETS THE QUAFFLE AND HE SCORES! THAT'S 50 - 70 FOR THE IRISH' The game announcer's voice echoed in her head, temporarily drowning out the sound of her own heartbeat.

No, she wasn't drunk at all. She was sweating buckets and her eyes were burning from the bright sun but there she saw it. The snitch, now hovering next to the base of the goalpost on the other side of the pitch. (Y/n) glanced at Torrez, who was flying laps around the field. He obviously hadn't seen the snitch yet, how could he have?

Torrez was much closer to the snitch than she was, if he'd look down no doubt he'd see it. Waiting till he passes it isn't an option either, he'd see her flying towards himself.

(Y/n) had two options in this situation, only one of them would result in flawless victory and win them the Quidditch World Cup. Her options consisted of another Feigned dive, hoping Torrez would follow, or just dashing toward the snitch and hope she gets there first. Normally this would've been an easy decision. But today her head was spinning and her hands were clammy, making it hard to grip the handle of her broom properly and ah fuck it.

While the Spanish seeker's back was turned, (Y/n) leaned forward and picked up the speed. Only a few seconds and she'd catch the snitch and the match would be over with a hundred-and-thirty point difference. Her hand stretches out in front of her, the little golden nuisance is trying to outfly her. She chases it around the goal and follows it to the middle of the pitch. There she sees him, Torrez flying toward her at full speed, with no intention of stopping. If he collides with her it will be a foul sure, but the wanker is broad and muscular and the absolute opposite of a seeker build. She'll never recover in time to catch it if he knocks her off her broom.

A whistling sound faintly accompanies the cacophony of gloom and doom playing inside her head. Dread filled her stomach like a thirty-pound weight, she was sure that wasn't helping her intended speed. It was like everything was going in slow motion, including Torrez. The mountain of a man had this determined look on his face, he wasn't planning on stopping.

(Y/n) was faced with another choice, charge the Snitch or fall back and preserve her pretty face. If she gets dropped off the team, at least she'll have that. Her drunken mind didn't even have time to revel in self-deprecation before a heavy snapping sound filled her ears. Then, a heavy impact came to her stomach. She was thrown forward, hands outstretched as if she was diving for safety. You know, only 50 feet from the ground with no safety net.

Torrez dove after her, surprisingly. It wouldn't be until later that she would realize he wasn't diving after "her".

"Her eyes locked into Torrez and a shock of bitterness rocked through her. Even as her vision blurred and her robes rippled in the air, she could only focus on the golden glint that flashed between her folds of clothes. Then everything stopped.

She heard a loud snapping sound, her body bouncing. (Y/n) could barely comprehend the sensation. There was a loud, sickening crack as her body collided with something- maybe the earth, maybe just the harsh wind mocking her for even thinking she could fly like this. She bounced off whatever surface she'd hit, her limbs like a rag doll, her mind barely able to catch up.

The world spun around her, a kaleidoscope of blurred colors- greens, golds, and deep reds. She tried to breathe, but the air had left her lungs, leaving her gasping, wheezing. It felt like her chest had collapsed inward. Terrifyingly, she couldn't feel pain. Just panic, as her vision tumbled until she could hardly see the flickering lights. Something hard poked her back, it moved a little, vibrating like a bug trapped between a window and a curtain. A face came into view but it wasn't one she could make out before she wheezed out what little air she managed to collect.

Between the fading screams and rushed footsteps she could hear a voice, barely. "(Y/ln)..." And it all went black.

[dartagnantt]

Daredevil Conclave | Not to be confused with a marvel super hero

PDFs of this and more can be found over on at my Patreon here! I release everything for free, so your support makes this possible. I've also started making a new system based off of 5e, 6th Dawn! Become a patron and join the playtest.

Daring, aren't we? So, it turns out, that all the reaction, reflex, and daring movement features I could think of were already rogue and monk class features. Interesting, isn't it. Kind of glad I didn't make this a rogue archetype.

Second-Story Work

It turns out that tasha's alternate class feature thing has really made rangers a nuisance to write for. How do I know what features they have? So here I cater for if they have a climbing speed feature or a ignore difficult terrain feature by giving them the opposite. One Good Turn

The only feature in the list that takes the subclass name literally. And why this wasn't a rogue subclass. Take a risky action, get rewarded

Rolling Fall

So, it turns out that an important part of parkour is knowing how to fall. It turns out that monks know how to fall too.

Cunning Alacrity

Since rangers don't have their bonus action bogged down, they don't really need more move speed. Besides, if you have roving, it's slightly redundant.

Wall Runner

More monk powers. No water walking though.

Uncanny Reflexes

Uncanny dodge AND evasion? oh my!

Redirect Momentum

A bit of the standard dodge attack, plus some redirect missiles, plus some judo throws.

And now to plug my stuff. I release homebrews weekly over on my Patreon. Anyone who pledges $1 or more per post don't have to wait a month to see them, and also help fund my being alive habit.

At the moment, they have exclusive access to the following:

Forces of Chaos

Survival of the FIttest

Proteans

Circle of Storms

I also have four classes, and a splatbook over on DriveThrueRPG to check out:

The Rift Binder. A class specialising in summoning monsters and controlling the battlefield.

The Witch Knight. A class that combines swords and sorcery in the most literal way.

The Werebeast. A class that turns you into a half beast to destroy your foes.

The Beguiler. A spellcaster dedicated to illusions, enchantments, and general fuckery.

d'Artagnan's Adventurer Almanac. A compendium of races, subclasses, feats, spells, monsters and more!

[stargazer-sims]

The Art of Redemption

(part 18)

previous // next // story index

—————

The animal shelter reminds Nikolai vaguely of the hospital. Maybe it's the odour of industrial-grade disinfectant in the air, or perhaps the drab, institutional colour scheme, or maybe it's the unfriendly expression of the middle-aged woman at the front desk who looks like she'd rather be almost anywhere else.

He does not want to approach this woman, but he has little choice. After all, she's the one who might be able to help him get Tangerine back.

Beside him, Ginger reaches for his hand. He'd picked her up at her apartment and explained the entire situation to her on the way across town to the shelter, and she hadn't seemed the least bit surprised at what Anya had done. Shocked, yes. Outraged, definitely. But Ginger has known Anya just as long as Nikolai has, and she's well acquainted with Anya's ways. He guesses nothing Anya might do would surprise Ginger any more.

Nikolai swallows reflexively. He hates that he does this whenever he's nervous, but he can't seem to control it

Ginger squeezes his fingers gently and whispers, "Go on. You can do this."

He squeezes back, grateful that he doesn't have to explain his anxiety to her. Ginger knows him almost as well as he knows himself, and they don't always need words to communicate to each other how they're feeling. "Thanks."

They approach the desk together, with Ginger a half-step behind Nikolai. The receptionist looks up, but doesn't smile or greet them.

"Excuse me," Nikolai says to her. "I'm hoping you can help me."

She utters a little noise that seems to suggest he's inconveniencing her. "Adopt or surrender?"

"Uh... neither," he stammers, put off by her brusqueness. "I'm looking for my cat. Her name is Tangerine. She's orange with three white feet, and she's eleven years old, and she might've been wearing a pastel pink collar. My wife... my ex-wife brought her here to... I mean, she brought her here by mistake, and I'd like to have her back."

"This isn't a pet boarding service," says the receptionist. "You can't simply retrieve surrendered animals."

"Tangerine isn't a surrendered animal. I don't want to give her up."

"If the animal was surrendered, you'll have to go through the adoption process. The adoption fee is two hundred dollars and there's a processing time of forty-eight to seventy-two hours. The application is there." She points to a basket at the end of the desk, with sheets of paper sticking out of it. Turning her attention to her computer and clicking her mouse a couple of times, she adds. "We can arrange a time for you to view the cats, so you can complete the paperwork."

Nikolai stares at her, incredulous. It's as if she isn't even listening to him. "But, I don't want to view any other cats. I just want my cat. Can you at least check if she's here?"

The woman sighs. "I don't know which cats are here. I'd have to get a staff member."

"Perhaps," Ginger says, "you ought to fetch your manager. This certainly seems like a situation where some authority might be needed."

The receptionist spears Ginger with a dark look, but then sighs again and picks up the receiver of her desk phone. She stabs at a few buttons with her pointy burgundy fingernails. A handful of seconds pass, and then she says into the phone. "Yes, is Lakeisha there? There's a couple out front who seem like they're going to be trouble. They want to speak to the manager. Yes, all right... thanks."

She puts the receiver down aggressively and doesn't make eye contact with Nikolai and Ginger.

"Well?" Ginger inquires.

"Have a seat," says the receptionist, waving in the general direction of some plastic chairs along one wall.

Ginger takes Nikolai's hand again and leads him over to the chairs. They sit next to each other, and Nikolai has to resist the urge to lean against his friend. He's suddenly exhausted. It's barely mid-morning, but after the pre-sunrise trip to the airport, his confrontation with Anya at her grandparents' house, and now this, it already feels like it's been a long day.

A million thoughts race around in his head, not the least of which is the fear that Tangerine isn't even here and he came all this way for nothing. His mind is still reeling from his encounter with Anya and the fact that she would put him through this ordeal. Still, in a way, maybe this is better than attempting to have a civilized conversation with her this morning. He doesn't know what he would've said beyond, I love you but you keep hurting me and I don't want to live like that any more.

He does the mental equivalent of shaking his head. What has his life come to, that he thinks sitting here in this awful place is a better alternative than talking to his wife?

Nikolai glances at his fitness tracker. The time display lets him know that it's only been seven minutes since the last time he looked at it. he and Ginger have only been waiting that long, but to him it feels like it's been practically an eternity.

At last, a side door opens and a woman who looks to be a little older than Nikolai and Ginger walks out. She's plump and attractive, with a natural, easy smile on her face and teal extensions in her black hair that match the colour of the shelter's logo on her polo shirt. She bypasses the front desk and comes straight over to Nikolai and Ginger.

"Good morning," she says, as she sticks out her hand toward Nikolai. "I'm Lakeisha Smith. I'm the shelter manager. Is there something I can help you with today?"

"I, uh..." Nikolai stares at her for a moment. He doesn't know why he assumed she'd be as unwelcoming as the woman at the reception desk, and the warmth of her greeting catches him by surprise. He recovers his wits and shakes her hand. "I'm Nikolai Pavlenko, and this is my friend, Ginger Holmes. My cat was brought here by mistake, and we're looking for her, so if you could help with that...?"

Lakeisha shakes hands with Ginger as well. "Nice to meet both of you," she says. "Why don't you tell me about your cat and what you think might've happened? We'll see if we can sort things out."

He doesn't want to get into too much detail about the turmoil of his and Anya's relationship, but he has to explain a little for the story to make sense. He tells Lakeisha briefly about the perfect storm of his injury and the breakup of his marriage, and how Anya had taken Tangerine when she left. Then, he relates the story Anya had told him less than an hour before; how her grandfather was allergic, which prompted their decision to surrender the cat.

"The problem is," Nikolai concludes. "I don't even know if she's telling the truth. I don't know if Tangerine is really here or not, and even if she is, how hard is it going to be to get her back?"

"Do you have a picture of Tangerine?" Lakeisha asks.

"Yes, loads of them."

"His camera roll has two things," Ginger adds. "Tangerine and rink selfies."

It has more than that, but he can't deny that his phone is full of photos of Tangerine. He slides it out of his pocket, unlocks it and opens his photo gallery. He passes his phone to Lakeisha. He has nothing to hide.

Lakeisha scrolls through the photos and then smiles as she releases the phone back into Nikolai's hand. "Yes, I recognize that cat. We do have her here. She came in about a week ago."

Relief floods through Nikolai's body, and he suddenly feels like he might need to sit down again. Maybe it's ridiculous to be so emotionally invested in the life and welfare of an animal, and maybe it's an overreaction on his part, but he can't help it.

The joke he often makes is that he and Tangerine grew up together, but when he pauses to consider it, he decides it's not all that far from the truth. He's twenty-seven now, and he got her when he was sixteen and she was just a tiny six week old kitten. It's impossible to say exactly how much Tangerine has learned over the past eleven years, but he knows he's discovered more a thing or two about life while growing into adulthood.

His parents hadn't been overjoyed at the idea of having a cat at first, but they'd soon begun to love Tangerine almost as much as Nikolai did. When he and Anya got their house, he remembers overhearing his mother tell someone, "Kolya and Tangerine moved out." Despite his parents' initial misgivings, it's obvious she's now very much a part of their family.

So, maybe it's not so much of an overreaction after all.

"Can I see her?" he asks. His voice trembles slightly.

"Of course," says Lakeisha. "Come with me."

He and Ginger follow Lakeisha through the same side door she appeared from. They go down a corridor with doors that are probably offices or storage areas. At the end of the hallway is a large metal door, like a fire door, with a red and white sign that says 'authorized persons only'.

The first thing Nikolai sees when they pass through the metal door is something that reminds him of a foreign prison scene from some action movie. It's two rows of stacked cages with a narrow aisle between them, and it's horrifying. Logically, he knows the cages are necessary for the safety of the cats, and presumably dogs in some other part of the building as well, but he feels uncomfortable with the thought of cats and dogs in cages. The lighting is low in this area and the odour of disinfectant is much stronger here than it was in the lobby. Nikolai's nostrils burn from the acrid smell.

It takes a moment for his brain to register the information that most of the cages are empty. At the far end of the room is a glass-walled enclosure full of cat trees and other climbing apparatus. There's a large window with a wide sill to allow the cats to look outside, and there are various toys scattered around.

That's better.

A quick count tells him there are nine cats inside, but none of them are orange. He's just about to ask about it when Lakeisha stops at the end of the row of cages.

Ginger lets out a soft gasp and clutches Nikolai's arm. Tangerine is in the topmost cage, huddled in the back corner, ears flat and mismatched eyes glaring. Nikolai can't decide if she looks more angry or terrified, but either way, the sight of her in this state is jarring.

He blurts the first thing that pops into his head. "She's still wearing her collar. My name and phone number are on there, embroidered on the inside."

More of his mother's clever handiwork, disassembling the collar, stitching the information on the layer of fabric that would rest against Tangerine's neck, and then sewing the layers back together with her heavy-duty sewing machine. Mama's rationale had been that if Tangerine ever got lost and was found and dropped off at a shelter or a veterinarian's office, the first thing they'd do would be to remove her collar. They'd be sure to see the deep purple embroidery against the pastel pink inner surface.

Lakeisha's expression is somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Yes, she's still wearing it. We couldn't get it off because she's attacked everyone who's tried to touch her. It took two people to hold her down while the veterinarian sedated her to do his examination, and I think they forgot about the collar amid all that drama. No one's wanted to try again."

Nikolai is already reaching for the door of the cage before he catches himself. "Can you open this, please?"

"You can go ahead and do it yourself if you like," Lakeisha says.

He doesn't need any more encouragement than that. The latch is easy to flip up, and he swings the small barred door open.

Tangerine's reaction is not what he expects. She fluffs herself up, bares her teeth and lets out a savage hiss. Undeterred, he reaches through the opening, not far enough to touch Tangerine but far enough that she won't have to take too many steps to reach him.

"I wouldn't put my hand in there if I were you," Lakeisha warns.

Nikolai hears, but doesn't heed. He's willing to take the risk of getting scratched or bitten, although he doubts either of those things will happen.

He holds his breath. Maybe all three humans are doing that, because he can't hear anyone making a single sound. Perhaps ten seconds tick by, and then Tangerine creeps forward. She still seems nervous, but no longer in attack mode. Tentatively, she bumps Nikolai's fingers with her nose.

He reaches his other arm into the cage and lifts her out, slowly and carefully. When she doesn't protest, he pulls her in close to his body and cradles her like an infant against his shoulder. She's stiff in his arms, but she doesn't act aggressive or struggle to get free.

Lakeisha and Ginger both audibly let out their breaths, and Lakeisha remarks, "I guess she is your cat. No one else has been able to get near her, much less hold her that way."

"She's usually really gentle," Nikolai says. "I wouldn't say she's a people person, but attacking isn't her style."

"Fear makes people do things they wouldn't normally do," Ginger points out. "I reckon it's the same with cats."

"That makes sense," says Lakeisha. "And we can't explain things to animals the way we can to each other."

"Perhaps not," Ginger concedes, "But I think they understand in their own way. Look." She nods at Tangerine. "She knows she's safe now."

It's true. Nikolai can feel the tension in Tangerine's muscles easing, and he knows they're both going to be okay when she retracts her foreclaws and he no longer has the sensation of ten tiny needles piercing through his shirt and into his skin. Instead, the prickling is behind his eyes, from tears threatening to spill over as Tangerine lowers her head and rubs her face against his neck.

He turns his attention to Lakeisha. "What do I need to do to take her home?"

"Normally, you'd have to complete the adoption paperwork, pay the fee and wait forty-eight hours for everything to be processed," Lakeisha tells him. "But, show me your name and number on the inside of her collar, and I think we can make an exception."

Nikolai's hands are full, but Ginger steps in without needing to be asked. She unfastens the clip on Tangerine's collar, removes it and stretches it out to its full length for the shelter manager to see. Tangerine cranes her neck curiously, trying to see what Ginger wants with her collar, but otherwise doesn't react. She's used to Ginger handling her, and she clearly hasn't forgotten her other favourite human.

"Nikolai Pavlenko," Lakeisha reads aloud. "And if I called that phone number, your phone would ring?"

"Yes," he says. "Try it if you want."

"No, that won't be necessary," she says. "I'm satisfied she's yours. I'll still need you to fill the form for our records, but I'm sure I can fast-track the approval and waive the fee. Although," she adds, "We are a not-for-profit organization, so we'd still appreciate a donation if you're able."

Nikolai nods. "Sure. Whatever the adoption fee is, I'll donate that."

"Me too," Ginger adds. "Or we can donate some things you might need to care for the animals."

"How about both?" Nikolai suggests. "Ginger, if you want to give them something too, why don't we donate half in money and the other half in stuff for the cats?"

"Brilliant," Ginger says. "Yes, let's do it like that."

Nikolai angles his gaze down at Tangerine. "What do you think? I know you didn't have a very nice time here, but we're going home now, and wouldn't it be nice to help all the other cats have a nice time while they're waiting to go home?"

Naturally, Tangerine doesn't reply, but her raspy purr is enough of an answer for him.

"Tangerine agrees too," he says. "Does that work for you, Lakeisha?"

"It absolutely does," Lakeisha says. "Thank you. Now, let's see about getting that adoption form taken care of, shall we?"

Ginger puts Tangerine's collar on her, and then they all make their way back to the lobby. The woman at the reception desk looks displeased when Lakeisha plucks one of the sheets of paper from the basket on the desk and grabs a pen from the decorated glass jar next to it, and then offers to help Nikolai complete it.

"Because I'm pretty sure Tangerine isn't going to let you put her down so you can write," Lakeisha observes.

Nikolai tries, but Tangerine isn't having it. She might've been comfortable with Ginger touching her and taking her collar off, but there's no way she'll allow Ginger to take her from Nikolai's arms. Once again, she digs her claws in.

"Oww! Nope... you're right. That's not happening."

"I'll fill the form," Ginger says. "I probably know most of the answers anyway."

Nikolai laughs. "Yeah, you probably do."

Several minutes later, the paperwork is done and Nikolai somehow liberates one hand so he can sign it. Ginger gives it to Lakeisha with a cheerful, "There you go."

"Thanks," Lakeisha says. She signs the document on the line below Nikolai's signature, scribbles the date next to it and then places it in front of the receptionist. "This is for Tangerine, the cat that was in kennel twelve. If you could enter it into the tracking form, that'd be great."

The receptionist queries, "You mean now?"

"Yes. Now, please," says Lakeisha. "It's approved, so it needs to be entered."

"You know that's highly irregular."

Lakeisha doesn't seem bothered. "What's the point of being in charge if I can't bend the rules in special cases? Enter it please, and I'll see you in my office for a word before you go out for your lunch break."

The receptionist huffs, but she picks up the paper and swishes her mouse to wake her computer. "Fine."

"Is that it?" Nikolai asks, once the shelter manager has finished with her wayward employee. "Can we go home?"

"That's it," Lakeisha confirms. "If you're making a monetary donation, you can do it by cash or cheque, and there's no need to do it right this minute. You can come back later."

"We will," Nikolai says.

"Right," says Ginger. "We'll be back this afternoon, and we'll have something lovely for all the cats."

"In that case, I look forward to seeing you, and I'm sure the cats will appreciate whatever you bring," Lakeisha says. "Take care of that fur baby of yours."

"Don't worry," Nikolai says. "I will."

Lakeisha grins at him. "And maybe don't let your ex-wife babysit her after this."

[jamiesfootball]

Another piece of the leverage au I'm not fucking writing, damnit.

Under the cut for violence and Leverage-esque shenanigans:

At the first kick to the solar plexus, a shocked noise spilled out of Jamie's mouth. He hadn't been prepared.

"You don't fucking listen," Roy growled, winding his leg back for another kick. "What did I say? What did I fucking tell you when we first started?"

Jamie was ready for the second kick -- got his arms up in front of him just in time to intercept Roy's boot. He grunted, a sound too high and reedy to his own ears, and he tried to push aside the reflexive embarrassment at how loud it was, echoing off the walls as Bartlett and his cronies laughed and laughed.

On the third kick, he acted. He caught Roy's boot, wrapping his shivering body around it while the other man cursed. Roy kicked again, and Jamie's freezing hands scrambled for purchase against the leather, his nails digging into the collar.

"Come on," Roy scoffed under his breath, the same way he had when Jamie had held them up at the elevator. He didn't need to look up to know Roy was shaking his head.

Jamie bit his lip against the sudden, fierce wave of emotion building up in his chest.

His grip slackened, and Roy tugged his foot away with a violent grunt. He spat at the ground, missing Jamie by centimeters.

Bartlett tittered. His goons spread easily for Roy, welcoming him into the pack as the hitter rejoined their group. One of them fetched him a beer.

"Feel better then, Royo?"

Jamie closed his eyes; he didn't need to see this. His arms pressed protectively against his stomach. Hopefully they'd forget he was there.

"You don't know the half of it," Roy said, his rough timber carrying easily through the barren warehouse. A bottle fizzed open, followed by an audibly slurpy gulp and a relieved sigh. "The amount of headache's that prick's given me -- you wouldn't believe."

"No respect for their betters, these young ones." There was the tap of glass on glass- a toast. "Well, I've got good news for you. When we're done here, I plan to make a couple phone calls. You ain't the only one with a bone to pick with that little upstart. I know a few names who'd pay good money just to take a turn at him the way you did."

A beat of silence.

"Really?" Roy's voice stayed carefully neutrally, but even an idiot could hear that he was interested.

"What'd I tell you lads? Do I know this man or what?" Bartlett bragged. His men agreed, making all the appropriate noises for a goon chorus.

"So I do all the hard work, and you cash the check?"

Just as easily as flipping off a light, a threatening quiet smothered the warehouse.

Bartlett, the idiot, tried to backtrack fast. "Course I'd cut you in! A finder's fee. Hell, you could watch, if you're into that."

Another beat of silence, and then a low, dark chuckle that sent the hairs on the back of Jamie's neck to standing.

"You know me, don't you?" Roy remarked, sounding like a lion before the pounce. "Relax, Bartlett, I already got what I came for. You have your men wire over a cut of the haul, and that'll be the end of our business. The sooner I see the back of this place, the better."

Bartlett snapped at one of his men to initiate the wire. Roy rattled off the numbers.

When they were done, Bartlett laughed. "Roy Kent. A man of reason."

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does."

Another clink of glasses echoed cheerily in the warehouse. Then-

"Woah, take it easy there, Kent. No need to rush when there's still the cleanup to..."

Bartlett trailed off and the goon chorus piped down. In the shivering silence, the sound of someone chugging a beer echoed disturbingly loud, like some sort of criminal underworld ASMR.

Jamie focused on not tensing his body; he didn't want to draw their attention.

Finally, smacking lips. A content sight. "Thanks for the beer, Bartlett. Would've been a shame for it to go to waste."

"What--"

At the sound of a glass smashing over someone's head, Jamie flexed his grip on the knife he'd snatched out of Roy's boot and sprung to his feet.

Roy had told him to wait for his cue, after all -- and it was his time to shine.

The little prick wouldn't stop grinning.

Roy ignored him. He dumped goon number five into the stolen ambulance.

"Check their pockets. If they've got anything that looks like a burner, Beard wants it back. We've got to make sure to wipe any traces of contact they might've had with Keeley--"

"You like me," Jamie sing-songed.

"It was a bit," Roy said through gritted teeth. "Hand me the body."

Jamie hauled over the unconscious man -- easily twice his size -- like it was nothing. The joys of youth.

With five other deadweights already filling up the vehicle, it was awkward angle to fit in a sixth. Jamie stumbled a bit, and Roy braced him upright. Together they maneuvered the body into the van.

"You can just admit it, you know. I won't ruin your reputation by telling everyone that Roy Kent's a softy."

Prick.

Jamie's usually styled pompadour was a flat mess from the fall in the Thames, and rolling around on the floor of an abandoned warehouse had lint-rolled a questionable layer of gunk onto his stylish clothes. He looked like a twit, leaning against the door of the ambulance while Roy did all the work tying the feet together.

Prick.

With his hair dripping into his eyes and a look of open fascination on his face, he looked like a kid who'd run through a sprinkler. There was far too much delight there for someone who'd been roughed up by a wannabe gangster. Fuck, and they still needed to check his ribs.

"He made us the second we walked in the door," Roy tried to explain again. "I needed to get him to trust me, to make him think I'd switched sides--"

"By making him think you kicked like an octogenarian?" quipped Jamie. "You barely made contact. If I'd been acting any harder, Rebecca would be out a job."

"I can kick you harder next time," Roy bit out, but even he could feel how toothless the words sat in his mouth.

"Sure, Grandad." Jamie beamed, smug and practically bouncing on his toes. "I'd like to see you try."

If Roy had less to deal with on his mind, he might worry about how sure Jamie seemed by the notion Roy wouldn't hit him.

"It wasn't a life or death situation. I knew we'd make it out."

Sure, Bartlett and his men had been armed, but Roy had dealt with worse. If it had been life or death, it'd be different. Roy would do whatever he needed to in those circumstances.

He would.

"You keep telling yourself that, mate."

[reality-exodus]

Broken Promises

Ch.6 Nymos

Words: 1886

Summary: Mc (Nell) goes out with her friends for the first time while Richy's associate is after her while she is with Phil. Is Jake actually there?

Liz POV

I had been studying the past forty minutes each detail of the reports Bloomgate gave me. I had to go in and interrogate the suspect that broke into Roger's garage surpassing all the security lanes we had set. Alan leaned on the doorframe. "I have never seen a psychiatrist stressed." He stated breaking my focus.

"And you won't see today either." I responded reflexively and set aside the notes I had taken. I stood up and walked past him. I didn't like being underestimated. I paced my way to the interrogation room and I opened the door when a my jaw crushed in a fist, I stumbled back feeling the taste of blood flood my mouth. My vision was blurry and I didn't really know how that happened.

Nellie's POV

It had been two hours since I came here and slowly everyone was leaving for the night. The bar was almost empty and Phil arrived at our table, it was everyone but Cleo who left earlier. Phil sat next to me offering me a cocktail. I looked at him and smiled lightly.

"I didn't order anything." I spoke up, he was indeed charming, I loved the way his tattoos laid on his neck, and his elegance was truly something else.

"Its something new, off the menu. I would like the opinion of someone- out of here." Phil spoke and leaned over me, he was much taller than me, almost as tall as Ja- no no no! Not again. I shouldn't compare anyone to him. Phil is here, flirting me.

"Hm, let me see." I spoke and took a sip, the gin burning my larynx as there was nothing to break the acidic taste of the alcohol. "Strong- and heavy but still fruity." I commented breathing in hoping the featherhead the mixed drinks gave me.

"That was the point-Perhaps ill name it after you. You seem strong and fruity."Phil spoke, I half expected comments on this but it was only then that I realized no one was hearing his words. He was close to me whispering.

"Oh, that's nice of you-..." I smiled at him, I couldn't help but notice the shape of his lips, he had pretty lips, so symmetrical.

"You could do something for me too." Phil spoke and tinged my drink with his, whiskey with honey.

"And what would that be?" I asked, I was smirking as I took a greater sip from the cocktail. I was looking into his eyes, they were like Jessy's but more melancholic.

"Play something on the piano"He suggested and pointed at the big piano on the corner of the bar, it had candles on it and I recognized the beechwood from the ray cells that were deleted under the romantic candle light.

"I don't play- not anymore." I smiled and looked away immediately, he must have came close to me as I felt his breath stroke the bare skin of my shoulder and it had me shuddering within seconds.

"Come on, for me..."Phil whispered and his hand slowly caressed my forearm and ended up gripping my hand and bringing it to his lips. "I want to hear your voice sing." He spoe and I turned my gaze towards him.

"I have never had audience before." I revealed and my hand shook in his.

"There is only me." He spoke as his hand stroked my jaw and smiled, our faces were close therefore he didn't attempt to kiss me. I nodded and he was gripping my face gently. I stood up getting out of his grip and I walked in straight line to the piano and I opened the microphone.

It was a familiar feeling having the tiles under my fingers, I hadn't thought much of the song as I started playing automatically 'Heart by Heart' . A song I spent all my teenage years singing it and playing it. And then it was another and another- until I saw Jessy and Phil approach me. He stayed further behind as my friend approached me.

"Hey- we are thinking of leaving." Jessy spoke and my gaze fell on Phil who was standing further behind looking at me he winked. My attention was divided. "Um- Nell, I am talking to you." She exclaimed and I hopped lightly.

"Sorry- uh yeah, go I will stay." I responded and smiled at Phil was looking at me holding his whiskey, it was filled once again.

"Are you sure-?" she asked me. "You are drunk." Jessy pointed out and I only nodded.

"Not drunk enough." I responed and pulled her in a hug. "I promise I am alright." I smiled at her and she looked at me and then at her brother.

"Okay then." She smiled and left. I noticed Dan tell something to Phil, it seemed to disturb the owner of the Aurora bar as they exited, Phil turned and lowered the lights entrance as I started playing the piano again.

I played Bach as I felt his hands on my bare shoulders, I tensed as he was massaging them as my skin shuddered under his grip, I kept tapping on the tiles as I soon felt his breath closer to my skin, his lips followed capturing my neck in a deep kiss as his palm was around the rest of my throat. I paused the symphony and let out a soft moan and he paused his movements.

"Don't stop the music." Phil requested in a slow whisper. "Tell me to stop at any point." He added and his lips returned on my neck as I kept playing the piano. I felt his teeth dig into my flesh as his grip around my neck tightened, my breath was coming out cut and sharp as he was kissing my neck. I do not know how we escalated so quickly and I was never this reckless with anyone, not even Ja-. NOT AGAIN!

"You feeling alright?" Phil asked as he sat next to me, he must have noticed the momentary feeling of hesitance that took me over.

"Yes... Just thinking." I smiled at him, my fingers never stopped pressing at the piano tiles. I hadn't realized how much I missed this part of my life.

"I am a good listener." Phil commented "And I bet that in the following sentence there will be at least one of those words, police, hacker, Jake." He spoke and I looked elsewhere with a slight nod. "I didn't want to overstep but from what I get he left... I am here though." He smiled and took my hand, I looked at him and he placed it over his shoulder.

"I am drunk." I smiled and placed my other hand on his other shoulder.

"I am too." He responded and tugged some hair behind my ear. "I am also feeling reckless." He commented and leaned in kissing me deeply, I was caught aback but I kissed him just as deeply, his hand stroked my thigh upwards, I let him move on, he let out a chuckle feeling the humidity of my underpants. Before I could respond to that his lips captured mine in a renewed kiss as with a movement he closed the tiles and positioned me on them.

I had to admit he knows how to make a woman want him in more ways than one. my legs were rested on his either side of his waist as my dress was pulled up as I felt his hand stroke my core making me arch my body in a way it was fully displayed to him, the layer of my dress being a small obstacle that Phil didn't seem to mind as he pulled it aside and revealed my breast. I gasped as he was in three places at a time driving mad already without doing much.

"You are sexy" he commented as he was sucking the skin of my neck, the only response I could offer him was a moan as my legs were shaking to his hand invading my layers, bringing me a feeling haven't felt in a long time. My ears were buzzing from the pressure that rose in my veins like glass cracking. Wait- there was actual glass cracking-

I jumped putting all the clothing back in place. As a masked man with a gun entered the broken glass to the bar. Phil stood up in front of me and raised his hands lightly with no abrupt movements. "Easy man, what do you want?" He asked and he only pointed at me no voice heard. "Sorry can't do" Phil responded when the buzz in my ears got louder as if the electric intensity was high, the moment I turned my gaze to the speakers and the lights at the ceiling the whole space lit up and the speakers released a high frequency that made my ears bleed I covered them squeezing my eyes closed.

I was completely disorientated, on my knees as I could barely feel my head. I opened my eyes for a moment to see what was going in my surroundings, the moment of the break in replaying in my head all of a sudden. I saw the man no longer holding the gun, he was on his knees as Phil seemed more affected by the blindingly lit thorium lamps and the unbearable noise of the speaker, he was on the ground holding his head, I noticed blood on his ears.

I crawled to the man on the floor the gun no longer in his hands, I reached at took it when he kicked it off my wrist. I looked around for a way to defend myself when the screens all around glitched- an oddly familiar event. The noise got louder. "Stand still and you will not be bidden with further charges other than trespassing and resistance and assault against authority, I am aware of who sent you and dare to move one more muscle and things will not end well for you and I will make sure of it." I was listening to the warnings or more like threats, the screens were no longer glitching they had an eye- reddish one- and the name Nym-os right under.

He was back- he never left...

'Nym-os was created to protect you'

'I will never let anyone close to harm you'

I was pointing my gun at the man but my gaze was staring at the camera. It wasn't hard for Jake to hack into the closed CTV Aurora bar had. "FBI has his tracks, We are aware that Richard Rogers is alive." Jake said, his voice was altered, I was listening the voice he firstly bore.

"FBI?" I exclaimed "We, nice one Nymos!" I added, it was spontaneous, I didn't think to comment that Richy was alive and after me.

"The authorities are on their way."he repeated only, I saw the glass of the camera zoom to me, I wanted to keep my expression straight not to give him the satisfaction to see my smile or an upclose eyecontact when the siren lights arrived. 

Hey there,

 i know it has been a while and forgive me for that. I hope you liked the chapter and thank you for reading it. I kind of missed Jake too so I decided to make his theamatic comeback. 

Please let me know your opinion in any way you feel comfortable (Comment dm or idk wattpad?) It is important to me to be aware of what you would like to see. 

Also, duskwood one shots will soon be created so make sure to leave a request down in the comments and i will write about it. 

Take care of yourselves, 

yours, Silvermist 

[capybaraonabicycle]

Hiya! For the writers truth & dare ask game, I'd love to know about..

🕯️On a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? Why is that?

🍄Share a headcanon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

❄️What's a dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? (also, which character would be involved)

🌿Give some advice on writer's block and low creativity (or energy⚡if you like)

🏜️What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

🌸Do you have any pets? If you do, post some pictures of them

I'm btw planning on reading more Righting Reflex in the evening, I just really need to get at least one and a half more tasks done today for my portfolio. Sending you much love 💚🦎

Thank you, love!! This is way too long, so I will put it under a 'read more'

🕯️On a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? Why is that?

Maybe a 3? Like, I don't hate it but I'm not too fond of it either. I enjoy reading what I have written more often than not and I like putting [GERMAN WORD] or [TBD - WRITE SMTH ABOUT XY] ever so often while writing, but I don't enjoy changing the story afterwards much. I rarely change big things, usually only a scene or two and a few expressions. That said, I have to read every scene like 15 times before posting to scour for errors - and I am certain I am missing so many anyway.

🍄Share a headcanon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Okay, let's go with fugitive Doctor/River. (Did you expect this by any chance? ;) )

You know this bit:

source

[ID: two gifs from The Husbands of River Song of River saying "Do you know who you remind me of? My second wife!". end ID]

People have been speculating that she is talking about 13, which I get, definitely. But I want to argue that it is the superior interpretation that she would be talking about the fugitive Doctor (or another incarnation the Doctor has forgotten about but where would be the fun in that?). For the following reasons:

Vibes. This is the important point. River says 12 reminds her of the wife, so they have to be alike-ish. And I feel like 12 and the fugitive Doctor have a certain similarity in their demeanour. I think a big thing is how they hold themselves upright, actually, but also the whole Danny calling 12 an officer when the fugitive Doctor actually is one. Also the underlying kindness both of them possess and the end-life-crisis. They both lose all of their companions (Clara, Bill and Nardole vs Karvanista, Gat and Lee - one lives on but they can never see them again/forget about them, the other two die (or that's what they believe at least) and it is their fault) and I would argue they both are thinking about not regenerating this time. (I reckon the fugitive Doctor does not have a choice though.)

Loss. See the last point. The Doctor loses everything in fotj. Give her her wife, at least, please. Let River bring her some love and companionship <3 13 loses a lot as well but she's got Yaz. Which also leads us to:

Thasmin. Like, you know, if River had been tangibly in the 13th Doctor's life in any way, thasmin would have kissed. 100%. They didn't, so River didn't marry 13, simple as that.

Timelines. River does not know about more faces of the Doctor and well, 13 is older than 12. Of course, she could lie to her and yes, River gets married a little carelessly, so she might have married some John Smith!13. But if she met the fugitive Doctor - who seems very different from the timelord she knows and has no recollection of the Doctor's life, it would be easy for her to draw the conclusion that the Doctor is just some other person going by that name. And the fugitive Doctor would forget about her, of course. There's also a good possibility, River isn't actually married to the Doctor but to Ruth.

Time, Doctor's side. Honestly, 13 just doesn't have enough time to get married to River. Am I still hoping we will get those two on screen (or audio) together? Of course! But 13 is kinda busy, most of the time we either see her with the fam (who don't know River, see lotsd) or very occupied with stuff (like apocalypses or prison).

So, yeah, headcanon: The fugitive Doctor is River's second wife.

(The first is Cleopatra, right? Like Idk if there is canon confirmation but it feels true.)

❄️What's a dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? (also, which character would be involved)

Okay, when I read this question, I thought I wouldn't have any idea. But I have. Several. Lets start. Fics I would will into existence if I could:

Full-length Little VVomen.

I know we won't get the movie, but I'll gladly take it as a novel fic. Just for an explanation: Little VVomen is a parody trailer for a crossover of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and the horror movie VVitch (I assume, I don't actually know VVitch). And it is glorious. Just -

- If it's about a girl, make sure she's married by the end. - Does it have to be to a man?

lives in my head rent free. I want a full story of Jo March saying gay rights, writing spells and sacrificing innocent men, pretty please <3 And I really, really want to know what's up with the Sean!devil.

This is the trailer btw:

Anyone write this please? (If I could choose, I'd ask Sean and Sinead who wrote the trailer, but I fear, I am already stretching the definition of fic here and using the authors of the og trailer probably defeats the purpose of this question.)

2. Strax fairytale!! written by you :)

Strax as a fairytale protagonist is SUCH an inspired idea and I am hoping very much that you will get round to it some day. But I can't really tell you anything about that that you don't know better yourself.

Or, maybe, I can: I have become kinda enarmoured with the 'Strax as the faithful Johannes' idea, I have always adored that tale, mainly for the tragedy and extremely strong friendship theme. Like, it is so clear that the king's most important relationship is his friendship to his servant. The princess is lovely but they barely know each other, yet. And I think there is SO much potential to improve the abduction scene and the ending. So, yeah, I have been turning that around in my head a bit.

But no matter which tale you will pick, if you ever write a fic for him, I am sure I will absolutely love it!

(also, like, I could mention any of the fairytale ideas you have told me about, here)

3. Heather is an integral part of s10 by @marvellouspinecone

You remember that genius powerpoint Pine made, I assume? Wouldn't it be spectacular if someone wrote that as a fic for me to read? I would choose Pine as the author because she understands the vision best, of course. But, like, I am so grateful already that the powerpoint exists for me to read and dream about :)

(Hi, Pine, not sure you want to read the whole post, but you might see the tag. This is not a request, please don't understand it as such, because that would be incredibly impudent on my part. This is just fancy ideas of mine and a praise to your vision <3)

4. Tenteen is played by Jo Martin by DiscipleOfBrad

So, I actually enjoyed the 60th anniversary (at least wild blue yonder, that much very much had a premise of my type of dw ep) but I still believe we could have done better than bringing back dt for the umpteenth time. (Listen, he is lovely, don't get me wrong, and I liked '14' too, but just - )

I have written a post about why I think making the fugitive Doctor's face return would have been a more interesting choice and I would still love to read it as a fic.

I don't really care whether it would be a simple retelling of the three eps with her instead of tenteen or a completely different tale. I WOULD like to see Donna though (because can you imagine?? Also that scene where Donna just acts like she knows the Doctor all of a sudden? When the Doctor doesn't even really know herself but feels like she should?) and if we could spring for some Karvanista on top, that'd be ace <3

I would give this one to DiscipleOfBrad because I trust them to write a convincing fugitive Doctor. I really enjoyed her in The Cul-de-Sac (which btw I can highly recommend if you'd like some soft thasmin and an intriguing premise. There is a heavy side of whouffaldi, though, I'm not sure whether that is your thing?).

🌿Give some advice on writer's block and low creativity (or energy⚡if you like)

I feel like it always helps me to get myself into a 'I can't do anything else now anyway' situation? That's why trainrides are so good for writing. I just need to be in a situation where I can't take care of more pressing matters, so it won't feel overwhelming if I don't take care of them?

Like, I will rather scroll tumblr than work on my thesis but I won't write. But if I am away from wifi, I might not be able to work on the thesis anyway, so I will easier find the peace of mind (and hence energy and creativity) to write?

Idk maybe that's just me. Maybe it's not working at all either. Honestly, I don't quite know where energy, creativity or motivation to write come from. They just knock and then they're there.

🏜️What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Well, obviously, I adore long comments, who doesn't? But just saying 'long' feels both greedy and like cheating, so let's talk content.

I think, what excites me most in a comment is when I can sense the enthousiasm? It doesn't necessarily have to be for the content of my fic, I had someone write 'YOU MADE A CROSSOVER FOR THESE TWO FANDOMS?? THEY'RE MY FAVOURITE!!" and it made me smile for a day. Just, I write those things because I love the characters and themes and if someone shows that they share this passion? That's community, that's what we're searching for, isn't it?

But also I got a comment today that was just a bunch of predictions about the next chapter of my current fic and that felt amazing! Generally, when people notice things or I feel they have been paying attention, that is SO GOOD. That's probably also why we love long comments. I mean, generally, every second you spend reading the comment is gold, so the longer the comment the more seconds there are, but also a long comment will usually go into detail. Make predictions. Notice things. Talk about how they perceive the characters and why something made sense/surprised them. Quote your fic back to you. And like, all of that is so much fun. It's like reading your story again, remembering why you wrote it. It's the best feeling in the world.

I very dearly love comments.

🌸Do you have any pets? If you do, post some pictures of them

I don't 😭 The place where I live doesn't allow pets and besides, I am away a lot and not planning on staying in this town much longer anyway. So, yeah, it'd be difficult to have a pet. I really, really want to though. Preferably a cat but I'd be so happy with a dog as well. Or a turtle? Or bunny? Or a lizard? I think you could make me happy with almost any mammal and many types of reptiles <3 (not much into insects or fish though. And I feel weird about birds in cages.)

[halliescomut]

Love Sea Ep1 Watch Along

-Already need to know more about what Mut does....what is he making notes about.

-Conner/Love Sand mention already... interesting 🤔

-As someone raised in a rural area the 'I'm borrowing this' to a seemingly random person and them just nodding bc everyone knows you is relatable, even if it seems farfetched

-Cat sounds for Peat/Rak is sending me.

-Will we meet Connor I wonder?

-As someone from a family of beach/coastal ppl, totally understand the awe of the ocean, even if I'm dealing with mid Atlantic and not sub tropical. (Also, I really thought I was going to cross off one of my bingo squares with that one, but no😔)

-Okay I gotta be honest - the knocking on the glass door by Mut is just reminding me of when my dog scratches at our glass door to come back inside and it kinda just sounds like nails tapping the window. Cute

-If I call that number will Mut flirt with me?? 🥺

-Aya!!!! Khaimuk is me at work fr, but far more fashionable

-Test Love???? What is this???

-Ja already? Or is this the only ep we'll see him in?? I'm curious.

-I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I love grumpy almost rude love interests. It's why I liked Sky so much and it's why I'm certain I'll enjoy Rak.

- Not a drinker, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to just drink a martini like a shot 😂😂

-Aww a little montage of Mut being thoughtful and sweet.

-Is the breaking and entering cool? Not really, but it is nice that he's straightening up.

-Rak all curled up like a kitty 🥺🥺

-Cat sounds effects...but not catlike reflexes

-Rak trying to seduce him and Mut being totally oblivious is hilarious 😂😂

-Is this mfer eating a dry salad? Man is clearly a psychopath.

-The close ups of Peat's face and his eyes in HD is so 😍😍😍😍 I kinda need them to switch seats so I can see Fort's eyes in the good lighting.

-The guilt tripping and puppy eyes are working!!!

-You ever just think about how pretty Fort's lips are???

-I guess Mook is Aya's character's nickname. Hopefully I can keep that in my head. I struggle so much remembering names.

{Okay I saved this as a draft because I had to go do something and then come back and finish the episode and it didn't save the second half. So I'm going to retype what I can remember but it's iffy}

-Interesting idea that he must be having sex to write about it. (And honestly a little fun considering how many Ace smutfic writers I know....including myself)

- The matching scenes of both of them late at night before bed is sweet.

-While I do understand how frustrating it is to have someone interrupting your work, Mut is so cute.

-Boat adventure!!! 🛥️

-Grouchy Rak after being told to sit still so he doesn't go overboard 😂😂

-"Get lost"....and go fucking where? We're on a boat!

(lemme know if you catch the reference)

-Oh no....Mut has accidentally traumatized him. ( Was that on my bingo card?? No...dang it)

-Aww😭😭 Rak does need a strong warm hug poor baby. 🫂🫂🫂

-"This is good stuff too" in reference to Mut's body is.....amazing. Simply a amazing.

-"Which do you want to eat?"...well you see I actually don't like clams so....👀👀

- A wet dream!! Or I guess maybe it would have been if Mut hadn't woken up. 😂

-Seems like we're gonna be moving at a good clip based on the preview for next week. Though I'm not surprised...Mame's never been one of the first kiss in episode 7 types. (& we love that about her)

-End credits is Rak(?) alone on the beach....I wonder if that will change as we go through the show?🤔

Well this was fun. I'm excited for next week. I have some critiques, but that's to be expected and honestly it was a nice distraction for an hour from the dumpster fire that is existence.

[yinnina]

It Might Be Him

There were more than four-thousand kids in this school, about a thousand for each grade.

A little less than half of those kids were surrounding us. Some kids, who were smart, watched from the stairs reeling, shouting like wild dogs for who they thought would win.

He yelled something that I couldn't catch on due to how loud the people were around us.

"Sorry!" I yelled back, "Doc said I shouldn't listen to bullshit!"

Everyone 'ooh'ed and laughed at the guy, whose name I knew was Eren, and the only reason he found out he was fighting was thanks to Gabby being the one who knew about him.

He got into a fighting position, which looked funny to me, and tried throwing a punch.

Luckily, I had a fast reflex and ducked under his fist, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind my head.

We are face to face now, and taking that to my advantage I kicked the front of his knee, making him fall, but before his face hit mine I moved out of the way, making him fall face first into the ground.

I grabbed his arms and put them behind his back, restraining him from punching or moving due to pressure I'm placing on his back.

"I would give up if I were you." I whispered in his ear.

"Like I would do such thing." He said harshly, struggling to get out of my grip. That was my cue to raise his right arm with the elbow facing me.

Crack!

Everyone was in sock, and the guy was screaming in pain after a few seconds.

His arm was bent, it would not fold frontwards but backwards.

"I warned you, you didn't listen." I told him as I walked away, people making way for me to walk through.

After that was over with, I made sure to head straight for the Grab-N-Go, where I knew Vance would be at.

I walked through the front doors, with the sound of a bell warning my entrance.

"So?" Asked the blondie, not looking away from his game.

"He won't touch anyone for a few weeks if not months." I told him.

He looked up at me this time, not caring about his score and him losing. He was in shock, but it wasn't very visible, only reason it was given away was due to his eyebrows rising up slightly then going back to their original place.

"What did you do?" He asked, rather curious.

"Arm's bend." I said simply, with a plain voice.

He chuckled, but his face showed no new emotion. "Who would've thought, since when do you know how to bend arms?"

"You're underestimating me, I know many things that would fall under the medical field. Some things don't fall under it, but fall under murder 'field.'"

"Surprise me." He ordered.

"If you inject digoxin into someone who doesn't have heart failure then they will die and it will look like they had blood pressure, and if it's injected under the tongue then the pinch mark is most likely to not be found." I reassure.

He was shocked at this, but knew it was true due to how I said it. I didn't stutter once, I didn't eat my words, and didn't trip over them.

It was a rather interesting topic to look into, I didn't use that knowledge on anyone or anything, but it could come in handy.

"Fair enough. I trust that you won't say a word about this?" He glared at me.

I chuckled lightly, "Of course."

It was a shocker he even talked to me, so I better keep my mouth shut to not get on his nerves like I did back in middle school.

His temper was a ticking bomb after all, the only exception was that you knew when a bomb would explode thanks to its timer, with Vance though, it was different, you never knew what he would do.

There was no capable way of reading him.

I turned to leave the store, before I saw it once again.

The black-fucking-ban.

"Oh my, do I have a secret admirer or something?" I whispered to myself.

There was no way I would go out through the front door where they could see me, so I went back to Vance, who was playing Pinball, and sat down next to the machine, waiting for the ban to notice my absence and leave.

I was lucky that the man didn't notice me walking away from the door, for he was probably searching for something on the passenger's seat.

"Asshole's following you again?" Asked the curly haired guy.

I sighed and nodded my head, yes.

I was not playing this man's little hide-&-seek game, I ain't patient enough to hide nor patient enough to seek.

My temper was running short with the top hatted man appearing everywhere I went.

I found it extremely weird how every time he appeared I was always near Vance. It was almost as if he wasn't just targeting me, but Vance too.

"Does he follow you anywhere?" I asked quietly, only for him to hear.

"Not really, it's always when you are around." He confessed. "Vance..." I started and he hummed.

"He only ever appears when you are around..."

He stopped playing, not caring when the machine made a small noise to announce how the game was finished.

His face was stiff, in a position where you could tell.

He was getting pissed, and a pissed Vance was not a pretty Vance.

"That son of a bitch..." He whispered, trying to remain cool.

"You don't think... He's going for both of us, right?" I started fidgeting with my nails. This whole thing was crazy.

Then I thought about the odds. What if he really was the one who kidnapped the other kids?

It wasn't impossible, he seemed cliche already.

"I'm not sure." He confessed, and for the first time, he actually looked down to the floor.

He too was thinking the same thing, I knew it by his face.

This top-hat man might be The Grabber, and was awaiting his next victims.

He was waiting for the next kids he will take from their home.

Those kids might be one of us, and we didn't know who. This man had no reason to do what he did, he merely did it for the sake of his own pleasure and entertainment. We didn't know a thing about him, and he didn't know a thing about us.

And for the first time in a while, I actually got scared. I got scared for myself.

For Vance.

I knew we both could handle ourselves, but this is a new thing, we are talking about someone who has kidnapped other kids who haven't even been found yet.

"I'm not sure..."

[tlpom]

Chapitre Un

The morning basketball practice was finally over. I quickly left the training ground, opened my backpack, took a bottle of water to pour torrentially on my face, and shook my sweat-soaked hair. The basketball court echoed with the laughter of the guys on my team. After listening to the P.E. teacher for the last time, I rushed home with the others.

While passing through the school gate to go home, we started chatting.

"It seems that Mr. Louis is determined to win this year's city championship!" One stuck his tongue out.

"Last year, Cannelle High School completely defeated our school team!" I shook my head and continued spinning the ball on my finger, "Other schools are not easy to beat, either!"

"Having a center like you, we can already feel half of the victory. Come on, Fleuve!" Another friend encouraged me.

I laughed, then threw the ball at his chest. Suddenly, another team member whispered: "Hey, that's the pédé!"

I headed up and saw a 10th-grade boy studying alone on the stone bench. His silky hair created soft and inclined bangs on his forehead, which had a few drops of glittering sunlight and obscured his face. He was focusing on his notebook. His small sitting posture seemed as if it was trying to crouch and make him even more isolated from the world.

"How do you know he's gay?" I asked in surprise.

"Have you ever heard his voice? It sounds like a girl!" My friend laughed scornfully, then shouted at that kid, "Hey gay Mer! Are you studying or watching the photos of handsome boys?"

Then the whole group chuckled loudly. Reflexively, I also tried to make a distorted smile. The boy named Mer headed up. His pure eyes looked directly at us, but they did not show a bit of anger or sadness. However, when I glanced back at Mer's deep and cold eyes, my smile suddenly faded away. It was as if there was endless loneliness reflected in that expressionless look.

Showing complete indifference to the tease as if he were too familiar with it, Mer looked back into the notebook.

But my friends still hadn't stopped: "Are you listening to me without answering, pédé boy?"

"Hey, we are handsome! Why don't you look at us for one second, honey? Huh huh…"

The laughter started again. Typically, I would have joined them, but something about Mer made me feel tormentful.

"Stop joking, guys! Poor him…" I waved at my friends, then winked, "Come home quickly. I'll pay for the ice creams."

The crowd cheered in response and rapidly ran to the ice cream shop. I could just turn my head backward to look at Mer one last time and… I was suddenly startled to see his astonishing look at me.

🧡You can read the original version on Wattpad here or wait for more updates with bonus content on this Tumblr blog.

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[rabbitindisguise]

The lamp clicked on and she gave a startled jump at the total stranger sitting in her good reading chair. "Hello, Cloud Girl."

"Eep!" She paused, pretending the noise that came out of her didn't just happen. "Who *are* you?"

"I'm here to kill you," the assassin said, steepling their fingers like a bad hollywood movie villain. "With your permission, of course."

"Of course," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Covertly she tried to look for any blunt objects or perhaps super-proof handcuffs. Surely she still had some laying around? If she didn't she was going to make sure to change that habit.

*If* she made it out of this. Anyone who was brave enough to waltz in surely had enough power to take down her second tier storm powers. It wasn't like a drizzle on the roof was going to do anything. She felt helpless and more than a little freaked out, wondering why she wasn't already captured or worse.

"No, no, really!" The figure cleared their throat awkwardly and flicked on the room light, causing Vanessa to squint irritably up at the ceiling on reflex. When she glanced back down the image of the ominous half-shadowed stranger was replaced with a gawky intern type. They looked like it was their destiny to staple papers together.

"Wha-"

"The disreputable league of dangerous and underhan-"

"I'm familiar," Vanessa said dryly, hoping to skip the obnoxiously long name.

Dr. Intern grimaced. "Well. As we've understood it, there's been a hit taken out on you."

"By the villains?"

An awkward pause. "No."

"By . . . civilians?" Did they even know she existed?

". . . no." They waited in silence for what they were saying to sink in.

"By the indep-"

They sighed loudly. "The *heroes,* ma'am."

"You can't be serious," she said, crossing her arms.

"Believe me or not, yes." They pushed up their glasses and got to work typing on a tablet rapidly. They brought up files and video, the half muffled voice of "-the expansion of service sector B-" overlaid on the haunting image of a map she recognized from her work. There was a list of "expenditures" and "recouped assets" that made her nauseous as she recognized the names and faces of other "assets."

"Oh god," Vanessa whispered, collapsing into the couch as she watched. She wanted to believe it was doctored, but a sinking feeling in her gut said it definitely wasn't. She recognized the board room. The squeaky chair on the right. Vanessa bit a knuckle as her mind whirred, overwhelmed.

"And so it is how you see." She was grateful for the stiff, procedural demeanor all of a sudden. It made things somehow less overwhelming. Maybe because of how stiff and uncomfortable they seemed to be, distracting her from her discomfort.

"Now what?" she asked, mostly to herself. What was she going to do, run? Fat chance.

"That's where the proposal from the-" they paused. "Uh, anyway, the people who sent me wanted me to offer my . . . services."

"What services?"

"I'm able to erase any supers powers, letting you lead a free life unafraid of sensors or programs. With a decent new identity you could go completely undetected and reintegrate into society."

"I'm sensing a catch," Vanessa said, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing out the window every so often as if she'd see heroes pouring into the building to . . . she wasn't going to keep thinking about that. Had she ever- no, best not go there. Not right during this conversation at least. She renewed her focus on the stranger, noticing for the first time how comical their broad shoulders looked in the comparatively tiny chair.

"We have a standard contract for these sorts of things. We help you, and in exchange *you* help *us.*"

"And if I don't?"

"I kill you of course," they said awkwardly. They at least looked uncomfortable with the idea. "Apologies. If word gets out about this . . ."

Figures.

"Okay. I accept."

"You didn't even hear the contract-"

"I'm sure it's fine," Vanessa said, standing and pulling her hair into a ponytail. She stuck out her hand. "Well?"

They grinned shyly and shook on it.

---

"Oh, just assassinate some heroes, should be *easy* I said, like a liar," Vanessa grumbled under her breath. "I don't even have powers anymore," she huffed. Maybe that's why it was effective. No one suspected the would-be victims would turn up killers seeking revenge with petty weapons like poisons. She carefully tipped the solution into the starbucks coffee cup like she had practiced hundreds of times, trying to conceal it from any camera angle.

Thankfully cameras don't have audio.

The next day a check came in the mail with the simple note: congrats on your first commission!

She whistled at the number of zeros. Maybe bad deeds *do* get rewarded after all.

And hey, at least the assassins division had a union.

You are an assassin that hunts superheroes. You haven no powers yourself.

[dzpenumbra]

2/17/23

Back and forth a bit today. I woke up early, I had really vivid dreams. Again, I just... haven't been journaling them. I have seriously 3 dream journals by my bed, I haven't recorded a dream in months. It's a weird skill I had to train, it was very difficult for me but I got really good at it, I'm just very out of practice.

The key to it, for me at least, was to really set a clear intention to myself right before bed that if I dreamt, no matter what the dream was, I was going to hold on to details, do my whole... milestone marker tracking technique I developed, and grab the journal and my glasses quickly. It has to be like... a reflex. It has to be quick. Because the second you start gathering waking data, it's like writing over your short term memory, it's deleting the dream. So you have to be quick. And... I just don't have that reflex freshly trained, and I haven't been setting that before bed intention. Maybe I should, why not?

I don't remember the dream but I know it was about my mom, and my stress and problems hurting her, and me feeling a lot of guilt. And I'll process that at a different time. Honestly. She's choosing this and she can take space if my grief and pain are too much, I really can't do that for her.

So I started the day on low fuel. I moved downstairs to the comfy chair and passed out. That strategy works pretty well. I woke up to a Starcraft caster that was... saying some really weird shit. Like... he was comparing someone who was raging in a game to a yapping little dog, and going on this diatribe as though he was doing the world a service by putting these people on display, because it's like shitting on shitty behavior? And somehow that like... makes it good? Like laughing at people who are being abusive, in a public setting, as a gang... is... healthy? Is good? And... monetizing it? And making it a whole series? I mean... you're literally making money off of nerds with anger issues hurling racial slurs at each other. And yeah, man, I mean... if that's what you want to do... but like... Does anyone remember "two wrongs don't make a right?" Anyone? I feel like fucking 9/10ths of the human race just blinked and forgot every fucking moral lesson we grew up with.

Well... maybe they didn't grow up with it. And maybe I never heard their opinions until now. Because now literally everyone is on the internet, and you have to hear their unfiltered thoughts, when before they would just talk to people around them locally. That's probably it, honestly.

Yeah, that just set me off on a bad note. Again, specifically that he went on this like 5 entire minute explanation of how him putting shitty behavior on public display, shaming and mocking it, was really the best way to handle that. And that's like... so fucking far beyond wrong. Okay, I actually pulled the video back up to reference this, that's how much it stuck with me. He was saying that he made an entire series out of "making fun of idiots", and that it's not just to serve the purpose of making fun of idiots, but also to remind us that we also have been those idiots too and we all have moments like that, where we're tempted to be shitty to others... and by watching him publicly humiliate these people, it serves as a reminder that like... if you do vent on someone and say shitty things... maybe it will end up on YouTube with someone "commentating" it and publicly shaming you, with your name displayed for the world to see. Yep. See, he had me in the first half - and remember, I woke up to this sentence... - and I was like.. "yeah, definitely take that moment of self-awareness, definitely think before you say something hurtful, give yourself some perspective". And he just took a gigantic right turn with it and decided to stress that the primary reason why you should not be shitty to a fellow player of a highly competitive niche game with a small community full of like-minded individuals is because if you do... something really bad will happen to you. Super healthy. Bravo. Like, it made my skin crawl. If the only thing that's going to make you even think twice about being really shitty and hurtful to someone, and lash out at them over a fucking video game, is... the threat of someone being several degrees of magnitude shittier to you? ... You've got some pretty big problems to work on.

I managed to cleanse the palate. Yoga was very calm and nice and then escalated super quick in like the last third. It was nice overall and actually opened up some spots in my shoulders that I've had suspicions have been problem areas for a while that have been pretty severely neglected.

I cooked "breakfast", first time in a while. I used to cook breakfast every day, but... the pets' medical shit and the move put me in a "quick meals" mentality that I quickly got used to. So it was nice to make some eggs and sausage again.

I got started on my mom's mala, which ended up being a whole-day project. I just finished it about an hour ago. It's very big, I have no idea how you're supposed to wear it, but... it's done. I spent most of the day working on the guru bead. I needed to drill a third hole in it, to pull the ends of it through. I tried my shitty dremel... I swear to god, this thing... using a drill bit... on full power... was struggling to drill through soft cheap pine wood. I finally got two somewhat good (though the holes are not lined up properly). I took hers and painted it with the gold metallic paint I got and let it dry as I showered.

I did some pretty cool basic floral mandala designs on it, it looked pretty cool. Then I started the Mod Podge. I did 5 layers. After dinner - yep, it took that long - I got started with the process of smoothing it. Since I had problems last time, I went with 600 grit wet sandpaper instead of 400 grit dry. And... I once again somehow sanded through the Mod Podge all the way to the wood. I have no idea how. And the bead was basically ruined at that point, because the gold was sanded off too. So... I started to pick at that spot a tiny bit and... lo and behold... I was able to remove pretty much the entire bead worth of paint in one coat. The acrylic just pulled right off the bead. So, strategy for next time... mid grit sanding - like... 200-400 grit? - before painting. These beads are probably too smooth and need something for the paint to grip on, I think scuffing it first might help. That's my theory, at least. Worth testing. That was super frustrating though.

It ended up working out, because I just said fuck it and went with an organic wood bead, not a painted one... and I think it works better. The mala is on a thin hemp cord, knotted between beads. The primary beads are 8mm garnets, the marker beads (at 10 and 20) are 10mm moonstone with copper crimps to keep them stable, my knots there were too small. So, honestly, I think the wooden bead might even work better than the gold one would have. I used the beeswax/walnut oil finish on it, it looks pretty. And then I made a tassel out of variegated hemp twine, wrapped in black. Still on the fence whether the black was a good choice but... as a whole, I think it looks nice. It's a bit heavy, and the knots added a lot of length to it, but I think it came out great.

So... that's been most of my day.

I got some unpacking done. 2 months after moving in, but still... I got some wooden crates that I stacked as a bookshelf of sorts, now I have something to actually put my shit in. So I sorted most of my books and stacked the crates. But... okay, my apartment is basically one big downstairs room and a loft bedroom upstairs. All my art stuff, music stuff and computer are against the right wall, where I am now. The entire left wall is just lined with other boxes. And my TV is hovering somewhere in that area, still sitting on my display case coffee table because I still don't have a TV table. Or a futon. Or like any of the furniture my mom and I were planning on getting me set up with back in early October. So... the space looks odd, and it's hard to figure out like... where to put the crates. It's just 3 wooden crates leaning against a big empty wall. Hard to describe, but it's weird and hard to plan around. But... I guess it's not the end of the world, because I can just move that shit around.

And, while sorting, I put some stuff into that walk-in storage space I have. So I actually got shit off the floor. Pretty happy with myself for that.

I might need to get a solid inventory of my stuff... then take another trip to Michaels for more of these crate things. I don't know. I really need a worktable for art stuff. But... I have a sinking feeling it's just going to be this drafting table, once my computer desk that was supposed to be a christmas gift finally gets here. It's not the end of the world, this drafting table has gotten me through... college and beyond... Legit, I think I got this thing in like... 2008? My only problem with it is... it's not steady. It wobbles. No matter how I try to get it set up properly, it always wobbles, so doing any kind of work where I need a steady surface, or something to clamp a vice to... this table just disappoints me.

I guess I'll try to take it one chunk at a time and just knock out home design that way. But it's coming along, and that progress is really big for me, so I'm celebrating that.

I'm extremely tired, bye.

[aliascanthrope]

Do you write as well draw?

i... have the capacity for writing and have had fantasies of actually writing something substantial, but for the most part no. i do have a short story i made as backstory for my current D&D character Ensemble, which i don't have uploaded anywhere... i guess its short enough to throw in here? i'll put it in a read more

Its second was to listen.

---

Its first act as a conscious being was to kick monkey shit off its foot.

Listen and take in, for the first time in its brief existence. It had been here dozens of times, the thoroughfare crowded with the same street performers, enraptured listeners, peddlers, pickpockets, and all manner of creatures, but it had never thought to take a little break from its performance to share in the moment with others. Actually, it had never thought at all. And that was a scary thought.

“Is it broken?” said the young elven woman standing before it.

“It better not be. What kind of lousy construct can’t handle a little external debris?” said her companion, a large half-orc man.

It stared at them wordlessly. Wordlessly? It had never spoken. It didn’t even know if it could.

“Should we try another coin?” posited the elf, her arms peeking out of her rich green traveler’s cloak to rummage in her bag of coins.

One hand on his hip, the other adjusting his glasses, the half-orc muttered, “Artificer must’ve been a cheapskate if you have to pay this thing every thirty seconds just to –”

He paused, bewildered. As the woman had stepped forward, hand outstretched to feed the slot another coin, the machine had reflexively taken a step back, as if she had invaded its personal space. It tilted its strange, flat-oval-shaped head, its optical shutters fluttering as if to blink quizzically. The elf’s hand dropped hesitantly.

The machine emitted a strange squeaking noise, almost as if it had been living in isolation and was trying to choke out its first word in years. A strained groan arose from its neck joints as it moved in a way not quite accounted for in its original design constraints. It seemed to wind up to try again, before finally producing an inquisitive, “Hello? Who are you?” in a gentle, melodic tenor.

The two companions stood agape. The man rubbed at the stubble on his chin, only managing to get out a, “Huh…”

The elf dropped her coin back in its place and crossed her arms thoughtfully. She glanced around at the rest of the street they were in, before looking back at the construct and answering, “I’m Elara. This is my buddy Frodde. We were just passing through.”

The half-orc piped up. “I thought it was just supposed to be a music machine. Is this some kind of stand-up routine?” He glanced over to its left. The construct followed his gaze. There was a small sign set up there, reading: The marvelous all-in-one ensemble! Insert coin, hear it play!

“I can read,” it remarked, its shutters blinking again. How strange. It began to contemplate the sign, and the implications for its existence. Was it really just a music machine? It felt like something greater had begun to arise. All its frame, steel plating, the brass and reeds and strings making up the instruments in its body, its arcane sigils and magical directives had known until now was: Activate. Go to the designated area. Deploy, and await payment. But its new consciousness didn’t understand any of this. Some barrier had been broken between the will of its design, and the will of… something else within it. For now, it latched onto a thought: The marvelous ensemble. Hear it play.

It turned back towards Frodde and Elara. “I must apologize,” it crooned, “I suppose I’ve interrupted the performance you paid good money for. You must excuse my inexperience, as I seem to have only recently begun existing.”

Stumbling over his words, Frodde started, “W – wait, hang on. Did it – “

Giggling, Elara interrupted him. “Don’t worry about it. Do you have a name?”

She clasped her hands together behind her back. Frodde glanced quickly between her and the construct. After a moment of consideration, it responded.

“You may call me Ensemble.”

---

[hotels-motels-heathens]

07 03 - D.P.D.

A moment passed by in silence; a moment that wasn't a moment, but Amber and Nitro's heads being so overwhelmed with different thoughts running through their minds like violent, discordant noise echoing endlessly off of the folds of their brains... It felt like seconds, but it could easily have been hours. Amber was the first to break out of this trance. She intended to respond to Nitro's sentiment, but as she took in her surroundings, she realized that Nitro had just missed the turn.

     "Ah, dammit," Nitro replied to this revelation.

     "S'alright, we can circle back if y'take the next left," Amber said. "We're nearly there'n any case."

     "Yeah, but it's been so long since I drove anywhere," Nitro explained, clear agitation in his tone. "It's not good for me to get distracted... Thank God I didn't get in an accident."

     Amber's reflexive response to this was to tease them, to ask if he was sure he hadn't done anything. Amber, however, opted not to say anything; Nitro seemed like they were starting to grow tense just being in Denton. As Nitro pulled up nearby to the Denton Police Department, they let out a rough sigh. They remarked that they needed some fresh air, and both he and Amber stepped out of the car. Nitro glared up at the D.P.D. sign before taking a deep breath and calming down a bit.

Amber approached the door to the building, and Nitro decided to join her; ostensibly for support, but he didn't really need a reason. Amber certainly wasn't going to complain about having someone join her. As they entered the station, they were both stricken by a smell they hadn't been assailed with in a long time; the distinct odor they associated with entering a place of business, a modern institution of some type. Though Nitro wasn't affected by it so much, Amber's heart sank in her chest. In addition to making her feel somewhat embarrassed about her motel-to-be, bringing her insecurity about her own lack of business knowledge forward, something about thinking of the police as a business worried her. Still, she approached the reception.

"Names?" The man behind the desk inquired disinterestedly, not looking up from his book.

     "Amber McDonald."

     "Nitro."

     The man's gazed turned from his book to Nitro, a look of distain expressed through the rising of one eyebrow.

     "Ah, Nitin Katimani-Xuang," Nitro expanded. "But please, call me Nitro."

     The man put down the book and turned to face Nitro in full, lowering his eyebrow but not the contemptuousness. The man sighed. "How can I help you two?"

     He turned to face Amber, who was thankful to have avoided this man's judgement for the moment. "Uhh, well, we're from Haleton and-"

     "Why are you coming here, then?" He asked, interrupting her explanation. "You should go to your own station."

     "W-well, y'see," Amber replied. "Haleton ain't got a police station anymore. This was the nearest one, y'see."

     "Right, I do see," He said. "So what can I help you with?"

     "I ain't heard from my boss in about a week," Amber explained. "He didn't say anything 'fore he left, at least nothing that stood out t'me, so I'm startin'a worry."

     "And him?" The man asked, pointing at Nitro. "What's uhh, 'Nitro' got to do with this?"

     "Well, Hal owns the building I live in," Nitro said. "But mostly I'm just here to back her up. I haven't heard from him in a while but, y'know, I wasn't expecting to."

     "I don't have a car, y'see." Amber added. "Nitro drove me up here'n theirs."

     "Hmm, okay," The man replied. "Well, I can't promise anything but... It's been a week you say?"

     Amber nodded. "Well, six days I think."

     "Right. I'll let the missing persons unit know."

Something in the man's tone as he said that felt conclusive, like he expected the two of them to head out after. Amber felt pressured into leaving, and Nitro half considered it themself; Amber asked "Don't y'want some kinda contact information?"

     "Yes, of course."

     He handed a pair of forms to Amber and Nitro, but only Amber filled hers out; Nitro reasoned that it would be infinitely more beneficial to talk to Amber than to him. Amber finished with the personal information form and turned to head out, before one last thought went through her mind. "Is there any kinda phone number I could use t'contact you guys from Haleton? Just dialin' the standard police number doesn't get any response from there, n'if I find anything I'd like t'be able to let y'all know."

     The man thought for a moment before writing a phone number on a small piece of paper. "This number won't be expecting a civilian caller, so if someone picks up, you'd better explain yourself."

     Amber said that she understood, and she made her way to the car, alongside Nitro. "I don't trust that guy," Nitro said upon exiting the building.

     "He didn't really seem like he cared," Amber agreed. "But what else can we do? Guess I'll just cover Hal's work 'til I hear somethin'."

Amber would not hear from the Denton Police until a week later, when she called them. The reply that she got assured her that the department had been formulating a plan to find Hal. When she called again another week later, she received a similar reply. The same happened the next time, and the next, and in total she received the exact same dismissal each of the seven times she called.

     In the background of this, she simultaneously handled Hal's workload and her own. Her priorly irregular schedule was suddenly overwrought with constant paperwork. She was exhausted, and the need for her to worry about this man's safety in addition to his business was slowly wearing what good will she still had towards him away. Eventually the police and their supposed search for Hal became the furthest thing from her mind.

Part 1 Here

Part 6 (previous) Here

07 - 'H/M/H 7 - Taking Action'

07 01 - Day Shift

The contrast of lighting as Amber entered Hal's was enough that, had it happened in reverse, she would have been briefly blinded. However, moving from the growing light of the sunrise to the darkened halls of the building, her eyes weren't quite so strained as they adjusted. She never knew whether to expect the lights to be on when she arrived; Hal tended to waver on whether he remembered (or bothered) to turn them on in the morning. That being the case, Amber felt it seemed even darker than when she usually arrived. Perhaps there was just a cloud in front of the sun, or maybe she had just arrived earlier than usual. More probable than either of those eventualities, however, was the likelihood that it was simply in her head.

     Since she woke up that morning, Amber had been wracked with guilt over the thought of what the next step she took would be. Now that her own motel was finished, or close enough at least, how was she supposed to break the news to her boss? "Hey, thanks for all the help over the years; I'll be directly competing against ya for yer already limited number of available customers from now on though. Good luck!"

Amber sighed as she reached the door to Hal's office. She'd work today's shift, at the very least, and wanted to let him know she was here. She knocked on the door, but got no response. Letting herself in, she found as she opened the door that the lights inside were also off. She instinctually flipped the switch to her right, but even before she did so she knew he wasn't just sitting in there with the lights off. "Dammit," she muttered under her breath. "Ol' jerk coulda let me know if he wasn't gonna be in t'day."

     Amber noticed that Hal's typewriter was sitting on his desk. 'Weird,' she thought.

     Hal always brought his typewriter home with him, the only times when he didn't were when he forgot, and that was seldom the case. He usually left his desk lamp on when he went to the bathroom, but that wasn't a hard-and-fast rule. Amber decided to give him a few minutes to get back, but once those were up and he hadn't returned, she guessed he wasn't here and got to work.

The rest of the day proved uneventful, with the sole exception of one guest who gave her a weird look that she couldn't quite read; once while she cleaned the hallway his room was on, and once after her lunch break while she was gathering supplies. The second time he had startled her, appearing as she faced away. What was he doing there? It was a couple of floors up from the room he'd been in... That didn't matter, maybe he was just getting his bearings; he was leaving the next day anyway, and Amber wouldn't see him again.

     Amber had visited Nitro and Elle during her lunch break, something that had become routine over the past year. The two of them bickered playfully about a certain man who lived in town; Amber had seen him before in passing, but had never interacted with him. The specifics of the argument were as to whether his appearance was enough to outweigh his awful personality; Elle was adamant that she could never imagine anything being enough to make her look past how bitter and rude he was, but even just over the twenty minutes that Amber was there, she could recognize Nitro growing less-and-less dissuaded, something that was paired with the steadily decreasing amount of beer in their bottle.

     Nitro offered her a drink, but she didn't want to drink anything while she was still at work. Nitro accepted that answer, but he pointed out that he didn't think one bottle would make much of a difference. Simply watching how his drink had affected him while she was there had left her unconvinced of this sentiment. As she left, Nitro and Elle briefly interrupted their argument to cheerfully say goodbye. The ceasefire, Amber felt, must have been particularly short; as she continued down the hall, she overheard Elle laughing as she cried "Eww".

Aside from the stranger giving her a fright, the remainder of her shift was uneventful. As she made her way out, she checked Hal's office once again. Seeing that it was empty, she sighed and left a note reminding Hal that, as his employee, it was inconsiderate not to let her know that he wasn't going to be around for a whole day. As she wrote the word 'employee', a sting of guilt ran through her heart, and she considered leaving the matter be. Ultimately though, she didn't concede to her emotions here; Hal had a duty that he hadn't fulfilled, and he needed to be called out on it.

[thepinkcalamity]

//BE CAREFUL, THERE WILL BE A LOT OF SPOILERS IN MY REVIEW. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED, DON’T READ IT//

Well. I'm not going to lie, I was looking forward to the release of BATDR : I woke up this morning at 7am, played the game for 11 hours in order to finish it the same day. And boy, oh boy. I have a lot to say. In order not to get lost, I've divided my review in several parts concerning differents parts of the game because in my opinion there are as many perfectly well done parts as BIG failures :')

Here we go !

To be quite honest : The graphics of BATDR are breathtaking. The cartoon style is, as usual, perfectly mastered, and the multitude of details and textures make the Bendy's universe ultra solid and constant. HOWEVER. In my opinion, we see less the "black and white" aspect of the universe because of the new use of bluish and greenish tones in the game, which sometimes gives the impression that the game is in color and not in a sepia world (I’m not talking about the end and the beginning of the game of course), which I find is a bit of a shame :/

NEVERTHELESS. The lighting is breathtaking. I was blown away during the whole game-

Beautiful, as always. Even better, since it seems like there is an orchestra behind some of the songs sometimes, because of how professional they sound ! Maybe a little disappointed by the music of the credits? Or maybe it's just because I'm obsessed with Drawn to the Darkness-

Perfect.

PUZZLES

This is where I was disappointed : some puzzles are very simple to understand and to do (like the puzzle proposed (imposed ?) by Malice or Betty's request) while some puzzles are literally incomprehensible : many puzzles are not explained or explicited so I spent half of the game pressing buttons or pushing levers without knowing what they were doing :/ There are also a lot of puzzles that are very slow and boring which cuts the hype very quickly.

THE APPEARANCES OF THE INK DEMON

This is a TOTAL FAILURE to me: if in the previous game you were afraid to cross the path of the Ink Demon, in BATDR, the screamers are more about reflex and speed than fear: first, the game feels obliged to explain to the player that he has to hide, which is quite annoying. Then you don't even see the ink demon, you just get a cheap black and white screen and a loud gurgling noise. In short, very disappointed.

The game is really more frightening than the first one, without any doubt! :') The screamers work pretty well and the overall atmosphere makes you pee yourself continuously during the 11 hours of gameplay. What I find less efficient is the screamers of Carley (I don't remember her name but she's basically the fourth member of the butcher gang) and in general of the members of the butcher gang (who appear from the lockers) which are totally UNNECESSARY : It's scary the first time, surprising the second time and then you just get tired of it.

Absolutely beautiful, the artist's artstyle is incredible! I just think that the music did not do justice to the beauty of the drawings.

Let's go to the most important part in my opinion :

Joey McFucking Drew

Wow. Just wow. I didn't particularly like Joey before BATDR but in this game, I LOVED what they did with his character: His cartoonish ghost design is awesome, he's just gorgeous. His reveal is perfectly executed in my opinion and you almost feel sorry for the bum as he monologues with Audrey. The reveal of his grave was also very good apart from Joey walking through the walls because well, yeah, ok, we get it, he's a ghost 💀 no need to make him walk through the walls lmao. His little hideout is great especially since we see that it's modeled after his apartment seen in BATIM! In short : I loved it.

Henry Stein

Henry's design is great : the way he appears in the game is in my opinion the best introduction the devs could have created to introduce this iconic character. In short, excellent 👌🏻

Audrey Drew

I was initially very afraid of the character of Audrey: I was afraid that she would be yet another character created to have the girl quota in a video game and that therefore she would have no personality...If only I had known- Audrey is in the game endearing, strong, brave but also jaded and outraged by the absurdity of the world before her eyes, which makes her even more relatable. If Henry in BATIM was (let's be honest) flabby and subservient, Audrey is dynamic, which really makes us want to see her get out of the cycle unscathed. She also has a design that I find simple but classy and elegant.

Malice

To be honest, Malice is a character I deeply hate simply because I think the devs butchered her in BATIM: I thought she had a lot of potential, completely wasted by the cliché of the heartless evil psychopath made throughout chapter 3 and 4. In BATDR I really thought that this cliché was back in the annoying dinner scene in which Malice is as usual machiavellian for no reasons. HOWEVER. I was very interested by what happened next : when Malice shoots at Audrey, I saw for the first time weakness and fear in her. When Allison finally kills Malice (a second time lol) by stabbing her in the heart, I found their dialogue really touching, showing (FINALLY) that Malice is not fundamentally evil: She's just misunderstood and completely gone. The note that Audrey finds in which Susie explains that beauty is the only thing that manages to make someone live from the look of others really touched me and almost made me sad about Malice's death. So I can say that thanks to batdr, Malice has gone up in my estimation.

Allison

Allison is, as usual, a character that I find horribly endearing: Her facial expressions are wonderful, unlike in BATIM where they were less pronounced. Her role of guardian angel is super well done, especially since it is not too pushy: She doesn't stick to Audrey during the entire game, bless. Her relationship with Susie is great, her little note to Malice made me soft I confess-

Tom

I love Tom and I really thought until the very end that he was not going to appear in the game lmao. His appearance is however, according to me, anecdotal and even bland since it is absolutely USELESS (it was only made to please the fans (me)) I didn’t like his redesign that much, I find it less "polished", more wobbly. And his robot arm is less badass in my opinion. But good point: he has one less strap which makes me VERY VERY happy 👍🏻

Porter

Useless. I found this character to be utterly absurd: He serves no purpose other than to give Audrey his power before disappearing in the most cringe-worthy way. His micro appearance during the final fight made me laugh anyway.

Betty

I found this character really interesting but once again, not developed enough : the idea that Betty's face didn't suit Wilson was very nice, but the fact that we don't learn more about her makes it frustrating. We would like to know what she looks like under her mask, how many other Bettys were conceived before the current one, what is really her relationship with Wilson, etc... I find her design brilliant as well as her voice and her odd walk, so I'm more frustrated than anything else because of her undeveloped character.

Wilson

A very good vilain in my opinion : I really like the fact that during the whole game we ask ourselves "is Wilson really evil?" And I think that, as soon as the viewer thinks that, the villain is successfully made. When the villains are evil and excessively vile (*cough* Malice *cough*) the viewer is less affected by his or her dirty tricks and low blows. Wilson, on the other hand, continually juggles the role of dictator and parental figure for Audrey, which makes the final battle with Wilson all the more confusing (we're still not sure if Wilson really meant us harm or not). What I can criticize about this character is his voice and appearance, which I find more comical and grotesque than scary.

Nathan Arch

His voice is beautiful, that's all I have to say.

Bendy

Adorable but useless. I think his design is terribly well done, I simp like crap every time he appears on my screen. I'm also very happy that the devs didn't give him a voice: I think it keeps some mystery about this enigmatic character. But otherwise, I find that he served absolutely no purpose in the plot. He also didn't bring anything to the lore. Why is he there? We don't know. To whom belonged the soul that was used to create him? We don't know. His relationship with the other inhabitants of the cycle? No idea. In short, a little disappointed by the very weak depth of the character.

Ink demon

I loved this character, very well done to me. I'm just disappointed that he has a voice: I think that, with his absolutely nightmarish appearance, it would have been even creepier if he didn't speak and only smiled. I think that with speech, we know too much about what he thinks, his personality, his opinions, etc...

Sammy Lawrence

My God. What have they done to my baby? We'll talk about the positive things first because there are so many negative things to point out, I'd rather start with the nice things: His design in the game is beautiful, very detailed, gorgeous 👌🏻 His appearance in his cell was also downright awesome: the fact that Sammy is so depressed that he doesn't even put his mask on anymore or doesn't even play the banjo properly made his appearance (too late in the game for my taste) very touching. The memos he wrote were also pretty well done. But then the ending. My god. When Sammy finally shows up after 10 hours of gameplay to say only 3 poor sentences that we can't even grasp before falling pathetically from the balcony, Meatly, Mike mood, WHAT THE FUCK? Why did you have to massacre this character like that ??? Joey Drew Studios still had the audacity to sell BATDR merchandise of Sammy even though this asshole is ABSENT the whole game. What a disappointment. In a game where the political context is so complex and tense between Wilson and the Ink Demon, I expected more from our favorite composer and prophet.

Audrey is a Drew

Absolutely brilliant. It blew my mind, me, who was convinced that Audrey was a Stein. The relationship between Audrey and Joey is adorable, very well developed and really touching in my opinion. Really, I loved this plot twist.

Wilson is an Arch

I found this plot not very convincing because Nathan was not developed enough during the game. Therefore I didn't really have time to get attached to the character and to be surprised by the revelation of the father-son relationship between him and Wilson. Therefore, very random.

All the inhabitants of the BATIM cycle have been captured and imprisoned/ Fight between the Keepers and the Cyclebreakers

Absolutely brilliant, it's worthy of a very very good scenario from a BATIM AU! Fanfiction Written on AO3: Henry's reveal in his cell left me breathless. Seeing all these old characters (Sammy, Henry, Bertrum, Norman (rip my boy)) really touched me and I thought the reveal was handled perfectly.

The ending leaves me with mixed feelings: I think it's too easy that Audrey manages to beat Wilson, beat the Ink Demon, break the cycle and control what happens in the cartoon world from the real world in only 10 minutes while Henry didn't manage to do any of that in 1 whole game. The fight in which Audrey and the ink demon are merged together is really ridiculous, we don't even know where to look: at Henry who is immobile in a corner? Allison who shoots everyone? Tom who rides a giant blob? Porter who appears for a micro second ? the horde of searchers who beat the shit out of the ink demon ? Audrey and the ink demon cutting each other off ? Sammy falling from the balcony ? I really laughed at this scene because I found it so off compared to the rest of the game. I find the ending to be too much of a “happy end”, in my opinion. And then Audrey who gets her legs ripped off but doesn't seem to care? I was really confused about that ending-

Anyway I liked BATDR except for the violence they did to Sammy by throwing him off the balcony.

Feel free to tell me your opinion on BATDR or to contradict what I’ve just said before: this is only my opinion after all ;) Thank you for reading me <3