#I’ve only had one that didn’t have its box art with the system frame and it was puyo puyo

[neonphoenix]

When Dick Grayson originally bought his apartment in Bludhaven, he had exactly two pieces of furniture: a couch and a coffee table. He owned one bowl, a coffee mug, a disposable fork, spoon, and knife that he made reusable, and a pan. He also owned a coffee maker and all of his vigilante gear, but those were in the “Super-secret hidden room in the back that No One will ever find.” Eventually he caved and bought a larger spatula/wooden stir spoon so that he could cook things without melting his only utensils. 

He led a remarkably minimalist life. Until Jason, that is.

Jason showed up out of the blue on his doorstep one day and forced himself in, all sharp elbows and opinionated observations about the sparseness of the interior. Once he started spending more time there, Dick invested in a second set of dishware and cutlery. The mug and bowl were ones he specifically picked out for Jason at a yard sale, both the same garish red as his hoodie.

When Dick complained about Jason’s habit of abandoning his shoes and hoodies in the middle of the living room, he cited the lack of place to put them. So Dick bought a hallway tree for the entryway. Also because of Jason, who kept abandoning books at Dick’s apartment, presumably in an effort to make him read more, “Sensible literature,” Dick acquired a small, two shelf bookcase. When Jason died, Dick put his mug and bowl and various photographs into the bookcase, before moving it to a storage unit with some of his parents’ old things.

When Tim popped into existence in his life, Dick found him a mug and bowl of his own, just like with Jason. These were a less garish red on the inside, and black on the bottom. More tasteful pottery seemed to fit Tim better, so Dick put a bit more time into finding it. With Tim came a game console and monitor, with the coffee table being repurposed as a tv stand.

Tim made him get a proper dining table with, “At least two chairs because you should be able to have guests over in a proper manner.” Alfred said something similar, and pointedly gifted him a tea seat to go along with it. Neither of the chairs matched the table or each other, but Dick liked it better that way.

When he heard about Spoiler from Tim, he made a prediction and bought a mug and bowl, specifically glazed in her trademarked eggplant.

Cass showed up, and at first she was strange, but Dick was used to strange. She left brightly colored post-its with doodles all over the place when she visited, but he rarely saw her, at least for a while.

And then Jason was back, and Dick thought about the storage locker, but never got around to collecting his things. Then Tim wasn’t Robin anymore, and his apartment got blown up, and Blockbuster, and the rooftop... And then Stephanie was dead and he hadn’t even known her.

It was strange, to mourn someone he’d never known.

He got a new apartment, and replaced everything that had been in his old one. He bought a proper bed this time. His back was only so forgiving, after all. And then he tracked down another eggplant plate and bowl, and put them in the storage locker.

Barbara sent him a plushie of herself in a wheelchair, and he laughed and set it on his microwave. He reminded himself to find some green dishware for her.

A month or so after one of Clark’s visits, he received a black and blue quilt from Ma Kent, and a reminder that he was always welcome at her farm. He pinned the reminder to the fridge, next to the post-its from Cass. He wasn’t sure what their relationship was, she still didn’t stop by for long periods of time. Then one day, he was at an art fair, and he found a black kintsugi mug and bowl that reminded him of her costume.

After they appeared in his cupboards, she began staying longer. He took her to the Nutcracker, and taught her how to fly, the same way his parents taught him. In turn, she left him more post-its. There was an entire wall in his living room covered by them.

Damian arrived and Bruce died, and everything fell apart. Stephanie came back, and Dick got to meet her this time. But Cass was in Hong Kong, and Tim was who knows where, and Dick didn’t know how to fix it, and he was worried that he had lost any hope of rebuilding things with Jason, and Damian was just so young. Too young. 

Dick tried his best.

He got Damian a mug that bore a hand painted robin. When Dick first offered it to him, he turned his nose up and huffed about it. Dick shrugged and put it in the cupboard. He wasn’t living in his apartment anymore, and he had moved most of his things to the locker. It seemed strange to buy Damian a bowl when Alfred served them their meals on matched sets daily.

But eventually Bruce came back, and Dick moved back into his apartment. He got his stuff out of storage, and this time, Jason’s bookshelf came with him.

The second time Duke came to his apartment, it was with a box of silverware from goodwill. Dick snorted and put it in his drawer. The Titans, Donna being the driving force, had gifted him a box of photos and picture frames. He put his favorite ones on the wall next to one of Damian’s paintings.

Harper showed up one day asking if she could use his apartment, “For science.” Dick figured, why not, and came back to one of the most intricately rigged lighting systems he had ever seen.

Cullen built a shoe rack in his woodworking class, and it took up residency by the fire escape window, along with a mat because people Would Not stop Dripping.

Stephanie’s lip gloss and nail polish began to take residence under his bathroom sink, and she donated her old waffle maker to his kitchen after Barbara got her an upgraded one.

Eventually he got used to new things appearing whenever his siblings decided his living space had a deficit. They treated it like a safe haven of sorts, somewhere they could go to get away from Gotham without leaving familiar territory.

He did have to put his foot down about the industrial soft serve machine. That was a batcave-only type of utility.

It started with Jason showing up on his doorstep, barely five foot and 100 pounds soaking wet. Now, he climbed in through the window, a mountain of a man, and sat down at the table across from Dick, holding his red mug.

Dick’s apartment had once been the sparsest thing known to man, but now each member of his family had a mug and a bowl in his cabinet. He even had a spare set for guests. 

He never did get more than two dining chairs.

And Jason still couldn’t put his shoes in the cabinet, because he was a massive Jerk that liked to make his brother’s life harder.

Author Notes:

My personal headcanon is that Dick doesn’t buy things unless he needs them or they have sentimental value. So he’s not against having stuff per say, he just doesn’t feel a need to get it. 

I feel like this could be interpreted as glorifying materialism and maybe I’ve just been on Tumblr to long, but that’s not what I’m going for. 

Also I thought about including all of the Titans but that was a lot and I didn’t have time for it

Please feel free to add more to this? I love seeing other people’s thoughts. 

But don’t feel pressured.

[novelconcepts]

You saying more childhood AU is possible with the right prompt is just...

More Tess. All of the Tess. Tess the morning after the party, lives in my brain rent free. The teasing. The knowing looks. The Jamie and Dani being so in love and unashamed and also oops we forgot the roommate. And Tess being the wonderful person she is and not letting them get away with anything.

It’s the fact that they think they’re subtle, that really gets her. 

Not that Tess is upset to find Jamie crashing with them the week following graduation. Of course Jamie is crashing with them. Where else would she go, now that Dani “it’s important to grow up and change and learn who you really are, or some such bull” Clayton has finally snapped up the hot gardener of her dreams? Honestly, if Dani let her walk out that door--especially after that first night, which, hello, gardener; these walls aren’t half as thick as they apparently think--she’d have forfeited all rights to sanity, and Tess would have no choice but to make her move instead.

No, she isn’t upset to find Jamie still here the following morning. Or at all. She loves Jamie. What’s not to love? 

Honestly, so much to love. If she didn’t love Dani even more, she might have to really test the bounds of this friendship. Particularly when she opens her bedroom door to find Jamie--hair rumpled, dressed in a half-unbuttoned flannel and a pair of boxer shorts--at the kitchen counter. Like, warn a woman. 

“Warn you about what?” Jamie looks blank, her hands prying open each cupboard with evidently-mounting disappointment. “You really don’t have any tea?”

“Warn a woman,” Tess repeats, hip-checking her gently out of the way and scrounging the supply of English Breakfast out from behind the stoner snacks. “Before you turn up in her kitchen looking all sex-rumpled. I haven’t even had coffee, Taylor, Jesus.”

Jamie blinks, taking the box from her hands. “O...kay. How was the rest of the party?”

“Not nearly as engaging as your night,” Tess informs her pleasantly, delighted when Jamie’s sleep-muddled expression lights up with embarrassment. “But an extravaganza in its own right all the same. Where’s my girl? I know you railed her into next week, but it seems bad manners to leave you to breakfast alone.”

“I didn’t--we--”

“Thin walls,” Tess sing-songs. “Like paper. Or, what, you’re English--parchment?”

“We have paper,” Jamie deadpans. Tess pats her shoulder, working around her to fill the kettle. 

“Good fortune really does smile upon you. Ah! Sleeping Beauty arises!”

Dani, looking only slightly more functional than Jamie, is emerging from the bathroom with an expression that suggests she, at least, is very aware of the acoustics of their apartment. It’s so tempting to tease her about it--Dani has this truly adorable habit of looking like she might combust if pushed too far, the red of her face complimented nicely by the gold of her hair--but Tess figures some things can wait. Lord knows they’re going to walk right into it soon enough.

But like--so soon. Like, she goes off to take a shower, and comes back to find they still haven’t left the kitchen soon.

“Seriously?” She laughs, watching them leap apart. It’s too clear Dani has forgone the idea of coffee and bacon for the much-more-invigorating art of pushing Jamie against the refrigerator. Not that Tess can blame her. 

“We--were just--”

“Right in front of my cereal,” Tess says gravely, shaking her head in faux-disappointment as she stretches over Jamie--whose hands are still rooted to Dani’s hips, the hem of Dani’s shirt dropping hastily back over her stomach--to retrieve a box of off-brand Lucky Charms. “No shame.”

They’re both making noises of disagreement, as though Tess hasn’t had her share of groping in the kitchen experiences to call on. She snorts. 

“Look, far be it from me to stop your, ah, young love in its tracks. Just. Keep it out of my bedroom, is all I ask. Unless...” She wiggles her eyebrows. Jamie clears her throat so violently, it sounds as though she might fracture something.

“Shower. Should. I.”

“That sentence normally goes in the other direction,” says Tess helpfully. Dani swats her back, grinning. 

“Got that out of your system yet?”

“Oh, not nearly.” Tess beams. “By all means, Clayton, show her where the shower lives.”

“I know where the,” Jamie begins to protest, but Dani is slipping both arms around her middle, pressing against her back to urge her toward the bathroom.

“That’s her polite way of saying if I don’t go with you now, she’s going to spend the next half hour fishing for details.”

“You still owe me those,” Tess calls after them. “Every last filthy one.”

***

They think the shower is noise-cancelling, too, Tess realizes about four minutes later. Jesus, these beautiful useless idiots. 

***

It’s the lack of subtlety masquerading as Chill, really. The fact that every single time Tess leaves a room, she can count slowly to ten, poke her head back out, and find they’ve picked right back up where last she interrupted. 

Step into the bedroom to change her clothes? Come back out to find Dani straddling Jamie on the couch. 

Take a quick smoke break on the stairs out front? Glance through the window to find Jamie shirtless, the unmistakable tread of scratches running down her back beneath her bra. 

Offer to run out for lunch? Spend an extra five minutes idly counting clouds, because fuck only knows the sounds Dani is making isn’t karaoke. 

“You two,” she announces, tossing the pizza box onto the counter with a flourish, “are going to break something if you keep this up. I mean, you’re at least taking hydration breaks, I hope? Do I need to bring you a power bar?”

Jamie has the decency to look slightly ashamed of herself, though there’s a definite grin beneath the hunched shoulders. Dani, selecting a slice of pepperoni-and-banana-peppers, shrugs. 

“Consider it payback?”

“For who?” Tess demands, delighted. Dani raises her free hand, ticking her fingers down toward her palm.

“Tyler, whose butt I saw like ten minutes before you introduced us. May, who you used to desecrate the kitchen floor. Carlos and Beth--”

“Liz,” Tess interrupts, “she goes by Liz these days.”

“--Liz, with whom you conveniently forgot I needed to shower before my presentation and took up the bathroom for three hours--”

“Okay, okay,” Tess snorts, groping for a dishtowel in some shade of off-white to wave. “Truce.”

“And that’s just this apartment,” Dani says cheerfully. She tilts her head to look at Jamie, whose face can best be described as aghast. “Back in the dorm, she used to sneak girls in after I was asleep.”

“You were a sound sleeper!” 

“No one is sound enough to ignore a bed frame breaking, Tess.”

“I...avoiding college was the right choice,” Jamie says weakly. Tess bats her eyes.

“You’re saying you’ve never dreamed of breaking a bed frame with me, Taylor?”

Jamie darts a look around at Dani, her eyes just shy of screaming. Tess is having the best time of her life. 

***

“Tell me honestly, though,” she says. Jamie gives her a sharp look, uncertainty obvious even as she reaches to accept the joint Tess is passing her way. 

“Really don’t think Dani wants me giving you a play by play.”

“Dani, beloved of my soul, was fool enough to schedule a doctor’s appointment while you were still in town. She knows what I’m about.” 

To Jamie’s credit, she doesn’t choke this time. She puffs once, twice, holding the smoke in her lungs an impressively long time before craning her head back and exhaling. "What am I telling you honestly?”

“You’re going to keep an eye on her, right?”

Jamie looks surprised. “Yeah. Not that she needs it, mind. Just. Yeah. Always.”

Tess sighs. “She doesn’t need it, but you know as well as I what that woman is like. Too good. Too fucking good for her own good, you know? Forgets, sometimes, that she can come first, too.”

Jamie offers a smile nearly wicked in its amusement. “Oh, I take care of that.”

“Yes,” Tess drawls, “darling, I can tell. You know, really relieved she never brought anyone home before now. I’m not sure my beauty sleep could have taken the abuse.”

Jamie laughs, leaning back and pulling a throw pillow into a loose embrace. “She doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. But...”

“But you can’t help wanting to, anyway,” Tess guesses. When Jamie nods, she takes another hit, lets the smoke burn in her chest. “She has that effect on people. Our girl would take a bullet for anyone, and it’s...impossible not to love her for it.”

“She’s the reason,” Jamie says softly, “I didn’t run. Reason I did a lot of things, some of ‘em really, really stupid. Sometimes I think everything I’ve ever done can be traced back home to her, one way or another.”

“That, my dear,” Tess says, “is what fools and songstresses alike call love, I think. Just...do me a favor, keep her from killing herself for those kids.”

Jamie nods. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Tess says lightly. “I like you, Jamie. You’ve got the hands of a sinner and the smile of a saint. I’d really hate to have to track you down and kill you for doing her wrong.”

***

For all the sex, and all the blushing that follows, it’s late nights like this one that really say it all. Nights where cards fade into lazy conversation fade into this: Jamie, asleep on the couch, her head resting in Dani’s lap. Dani, looking down at her like she’s never felt so at home in her own skin. 

And Tess, watching them both, astonished by the lack of fear in the room. The lack of distance. The lack of uncertainty. 

Dani, who has always been a nervous sort, whose panic attacks are so predictable on bad weeks, Tess came back from that first Christmas break with a laundry list of coping methods to offer--looks perfectly at peace. Her fingers stroke back Jamie’s hair, tracing her forehead, her nose, every brush of contact only seeming to sink Jamie deeper into dream. Dani has never looked like this before. 

“You’re happy,” Tess says quietly. Not a question. Not a challenge. Dani smiles.

“Part of me thought she’d get sick of it, you know. Waiting for me.”

“Who could get sick of you?” Tess asks, and means it. No one in the world stacks up to Dani, on a list of favorite people. No one in the world ever could. If Jamie really did fall ass over teakettle for this woman when they were barely old enough to know what love was, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Not for a second. 

“You’ll invite me to the wedding, of course,” Tess says, when Dani--eyes closed, fingers still tracing aimlessly--says nothing for a while. One blue eye emerges, her nose scrunching up. 

“Jumping ahead, aren’t you?”

“She’d do it here and now, if you asked. Shit, I could get ordained, do it for you. Always thought I’d look nice in a little suit.”

“You’d be gorgeous,” Dani says, without a hint of deprecation. Tess blows her a kiss. “And...yes. If and when, I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“As officiant?”

“I was thinking maid of honor,” Dani laughs. Tess leans back, smiling. 

“That’ll do.”

The silence creeps in again, the sleepy indulgence of post-midnight living that feels so perfectly suited to the college experience. Nothing else, Tess suspects, will ever be quite this again--the quiet feeling like peace, the weariness feeling earned, not crushing. Jamie breathes out in her sleep, one hand drifting to gently grasp the hem of Dani’s shirt.

“Gonna miss you,” Tess says softly. “And this one, too.”

Dani smiles, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It won’t be the same again, will it?”

“Nope.” And maybe that’s a good thing, she thinks. Maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Growing up. Changing. Learning who they ought to be. “But you’ll call.”

“And write,” Dani agrees. 

“And send me pictures of your hot gardener,” Tess adds. “Lord knows, it’d be a crying shame to forget that.”

Dani laughs. “Never.”

“You did good, Clayton. Took you a minute, but--you did good.”

She lets the silence settle for real, lets Jamie sleep and Dani doze, lets herself sink into the armchair. They aren’t subtle, it’s true--she’ll probably wake tomorrow to find they’ve opted for a quiet round of the most wall-shaking sex she’s ever heard in Dani’s room--but that feels right, somehow. Good, to see Dani refusing to make herself small. Great, to see Dani refusing to temper an emotion this grand.

“I love you idiots,” she says softly. “You’re going to be just fuckin’ fine.”

[frostedfaves]

I Don’t Feel Alive (4)

Masterlist

Pairings: Jake Peralta x sister!reader (platonic), Rosa Diaz x fem!reader (romantic), Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago (also romantic)

Summary: Jake shows up for your big moment and you’re there to comfort him for his.

Warnings: drug mentions and use, anxious reader, a bit of angst

A/N: so sorry for the wait on this part, but I hope it was worth it! I did a time jump because I needed to move forward a bit, not only for the sake of the addiction part of the storyline, but also because I need to introduce Rosa and Amy soon. anyway, lemme know what you think!!

Previous part

-

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You were about to host your very first art show featuring your own paintings, something that you’d wanted for a long time, but you didn’t expect it to feel this overwhelming when you finally got it.

“Hey, there’s my celebrity sister!”

You turned away from the mirror at the sound of the familiar voice, a relieved smile falling onto your features at the sight of Jake coming toward you.

“You came,” you breathed out as his arms enveloped your frame.

“Of course! I’d never miss this.” He pulled away from the hug and grabbed your hands with a grin. “So how does it feel?”

“Oh, it’s the worst! My head is spinning, and I can’t feel my feet anymore. Not to mention the heavy weight on my chest reminding me that this is all I’ve ever wanted since I realized that art is the one thing in my life that consistently made me happy and if I mess this up I could ruin my chances at a career--”

“Okay, okay.” His thumbs lightly rubbed across the back of your now shaking hands. “Before we go out there, why don’t we just take a moment to breathe?”

You nodded in acceptance of the idea, and he led you through a few cycles of inhaling and exhaling. By the sixth cycle your mind felt a bit quieter, and the knots in your stomach seemed to loosen.

“Feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you.” You leaned forward to sink into his hold again, smiling when his hands began to rub your back.

“You’re not going to mess anything up, by the way. You’ve already impressed so many people with your art, and when they realize how awesome of a person you are, they’re going to love you even more!”

“I hope you’re right, Pineapples.” A heavy sigh escaped you. “God, I wish Grandma was here to see this. How’s living at her apartment, by the way?”

“Weird, but it feels right at home at the same time. You’re welcome to visit anytime, you know, when you get a break from being a famous artist,” he teased you and you laughed, poking him a bit.

“Whatever. I guess I should stop by one day. And now that I can legally drink, I can visit that bar you like so much and meet your detective friends.”

“Oh yeah!” He pulled away quickly and you met his eyes that somehow seemed even brighter than before. “You have to meet my friend from the academy! She’s super scary at first and she doesn’t talk about her life so everything I know about her is purely based on observation but she’s great!”

“Sounds like someone I might like to know,” you told him with a chuckle. “Is she the detective that just transferred?”

“No, that’s Amy.”

“In love with her already, huh?”

“Wh-what?! Don’t be ridiculous. Yeah she’s intelligent, gorgeous, and an insanely great detective but it just wouldn’t work. We’re too different.”

Before you could tease him further about his instant “heart eyes”, an announcement came over the PA system that reminded you the art show was starting soon. You suddenly wished you could fast forward through the night, which Jake instantly picked up on and offered you a reassuring smile.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Little Carrot. I’m willing to bet all of my money on it!”

“You’re in crushing debt. That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Damn, you’re right. Well, see you soon!” He dropped a big and obnoxious kiss on your forehead before scurrying out of the room.

-

“For a first timer, this was incredibly successful, Y/N!”

“Thanks, Ken!” You smiled gratefully at the guy who helped you pull everything together as he approached you. “I can’t believe how many pieces I sold tonight!”

“I can believe it. You’re talented, and the world is finally getting to see it. Speaking of the world…” He grabbed your shoulders and turned you until your line of vision focused on a man on the phone in one of the doorways. “That well-dressed and extremely successful guy wants to hire you for a project and I would recommend accepting because he has connections to help you with your Paris goal.”

Your eyes widened at this, and you turned back to Ken. “Wait, seriously?! What are we waiting for?! Let’s go over there!”

After finding out the details of the project and gratefully accepting the job, you made your way to the back room to make sure you weren’t leaving anything important behind, briefly remembering your spiraling moment and feeling thankful that you were able to move past it. You were just about to turn off the lights and leave when the door opened and Erica entered.

“Congrats on tonight, N/N! I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, E.” You hugged her with a wide smile. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yeah. I would’ve approached you earlier but you were either talking to buyers or with your mom and detective brother, and I didn’t want to get too close with this.” She pulled out a little baggie holding a joint, bringing it into your line of vision. “Wanna celebrate properly?”

“Damn, I wish I’d had that earlier. But yeah, just give me a second to text Jake and then I’ll be ready.”

She left the room as you pulled out your phone, sighing when you saw Jake’s text wondering if you were coming down to Shaw’s. After wrestling with your conscience a bit, you ultimately decided to stick with your original plan. Today was super successful but incredibly draining, and you needed to wind down properly.

I’m pretty tired so I’m going to head home but maybe we can meet tomorrow so I can tell you about my new job! Thanks for coming tonight and I love you.

-

It was just a regular night for you, sitting in your apartment and painting whatever came to mind while music played softly in the background. You were so lost in your atmosphere that if your phone had been on vibrate, you wouldn’t have noticed the text from Jake come in.

need you to come to the precinct asap

You were on your feet in no time, sliding on shoes and grabbing a hoodie on your way out the door, pulling your arms into it and zipping it as you waited for your cab. Within minutes you were arriving at the 99th precinct, getting out of the car and approaching the building as Jake walked away from a brunette woman while holding a box.

“Thanks for coming,” he greeted you while placing the box on the ground to hug you, pulling away to start typing something on his phone. “I just got fired and I really needed to see you.” He turned his phone to you and you read the screen.

its part of a plan for me to go undercover in the mafia for the fbi. could be gone for six months.

Tears instantly filled your eyes as you took in the message. Jake always made being a detective sound so fun that you forgot there were real dangers tied to his line of work. He’d be working among people that could kill him quickly or torture him slowly with one wrong move, and the thought made you feel sick. Not wanting to worry him further, you grabbed his phone and typed a response.

please be careful.

You hugged him after he read the words, both of you holding each other tightly as if you thought the world would collapse when you let go. You were quick to wipe away any escaped tears, smiling at him when you pulled away and gripping his hands in the same way he does to calm you down.

“I know it seems like it now, but this isn’t the end. You’re going to find something that makes you happy, and be just as good at that.”

“I hope so.” He squeezed your hands before pulling away to pick up the box again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to drop this off at home and go drink away the sadness!”

He left you with one of his signature goofy grins, and you worked hard to burn the image into your memory, hoping it’ll last until you see it again six months later. Before you could decide what to do with yourself, your phone rang and you sat on the nearest bench as you answered.

“Y/N, hi! You don’t know me yet but I’m hoping we can change that soon! Tony Palmer here, and I saw your work on the HST project. Just wondering if you would be interested in spending a few months in Paris?”

“Absolutely I am,” you managed to answer, once the shock wore off a bit.

“Awesome! We can talk more about it in my office tomorrow.”

You saved his information in your phone, immediately heading over to your text thread with Erica when the call ended because you were curious about whether she knew any dealers in France. You weren’t sure you could handle being sober while worrying about Jake and living alone six time zones away for half a year.

-

Tags: @beeblisss @marie-03 @gaulty74 @xetherealbeautyx @makapaka11 @rosadiazswifey @ochrythum @halfofwhatisayismeaningless @hip-hopphile

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - Part 1

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. This Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life. 

This story is obviously non-canon. It will include characters from multiple seasons; some of them having never met on the show. In this universe, Tara didn’t come back from Chicago. I’ve done this to get the story I wanted.

I’ve also decided to give the protagonist a name in this story. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it.

1

“Move, you goddamn piece of shit!”. My car had stalled just a few yards before a sign that read Welcome to Charming – our name says it all. So far it hadn’t been very charming at all. Multiple cars were passing me and blaring their horns. “Do you think I just decided to park here?”, I yelled at a white Honda, with a blonde behind the wheel. She gave me the finger in response. “Shit!”.

I heard a roar of engines behind me; and a leather clad man on a motorbike pulled up next to my window. “You found a hell of a place to break down, luv’”, he said, with a Scottish drawl. “Yeah, thanks. I hadn’t noticed”, I sneered. “Pardon me, I was just stating facts”, he smirked. I frowned. “Sorry. I’ve just had a long ass drive”, I mumbled. “Mind if we take a look at it?”, he asked. I gestured for him to go ahead; and stepped out of the tired, beat up car; that had been my home for the last 4 days – driving from Chicago, to my new home in the town I’d chosen by its name alone. Charming.

I needed something charming at this point in my life – the last few years having been chaos – so I’d thrown everything to the wind; and had basically run away from the city, when I’d applied for, and been offered a job at Charming Middle School.

Behind my car, two more mc’s were parked – one of them a tall bearded man who sent me a friendly smile; and the other a blonde, lean guy, wearing a white t-shirt and white sneakers. Interesting choice for riding a motorcycle, I thought. All three men had the same patch on their backs – a skull-headed reaper. The writing said Sons of Anarchy – California.

The scot had opened my hood, and was looking into the steaming entrails of my car. He let out a long whistle. “When was the last time you checked our oil, luv’?”. I decided to ignore his choice of nickname for me. “I have no idea. I just bought it a week ago; haven’t really done anything but drive it”. He smiled and shook his head. “Jackie!”, he called. The blonde man looked up; and took of his sunglasses – revealing a pair of piercing baby blues. “We’re gonna need the tow-truck”.

The blonde got off his bike, and joined the scot at the front of the car. “Shit”. He drew out the word, ending it with a full-on laugh. “Darlin’, you’ve killed it”. I sighed. “Great…”. “Were you going far?”, he asked. “Charming was my destination; but I didn’t even make it past the sign”. I ran my hand through my hair. “Shit!”.

Blonde guy called out to the bearded biker. “Ope! Call TM. Get Rat out here with the tow”. “We can’t leave her here, on the side of the road”, the third man answered. Blondie chewed his lip. “You up for a ride?”, he asked me. I was caught off guard. “What?”, I asked. “We’ll get your car back to our shop. You can wait there for it; and figure out your next step”. I shrugged. “Yeah, why the hell not”.

Blondie walked up to me and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jackson. Scottie here is Chibs; and the kind man calling a tow-truck for you, is Opie”. I took his hand and shook it. His grab on mine was firm, but gentle. “I’m Cat”, I said cautiously. He smiled brightly at me; a glint to his eyes that made me blush slightly. “Welcome to Charming”, he said. “Now, come on”.

He handed me his own helmet; and got on his bike; patting the seat behind him. I grabbed my purse from the front seat; leaving my keys on the left front wheel. Welcome to Charming, indeed, I thought, and got on Jacksons bike with him, looking for something to grab on to “You’re gonna have to hold on to me, Cat”, Jackson smirked. I put my hands on his waist – noticing his firm and muscular frame – and he started up the bike. The force of the engine between my legs made me jump a little; and I heard Jackson chuckle in front of me. “Don’t worry, I got you”. He revved the engine, and we rode in to town.

—

We drove into a big lot about 10 minutes later. I noticed a large amount of motorcycles; and more bikers clad in leather. They all wore the same patch as the three men I’d just met – though some said Nevada. There were two large buildings; one was an auto shop – Teller Morrow – and the other seemed to be some sort of a clubhouse.

Jackson halted his bike at the end of the line of motorcycles; seemingly a spot reserved for him. I climbed off, almost stumbling; and he grabbed my hand to steady me. “You good?”, he asked. I nodded.

A tall middle-aged woman, with an amazing rack, came out of the office of the auto shop. “Jax; Clays been looking for you”, she said. Jackson smirked, and backed his bike into his spot. “What else is new?”, he said. The woman kissed his cheek. “I’m picking up the kid in a few. You need anything at home?”. “Milk. And coffee”, Jackson answered. He looked towards me. “Ma; this is Cat. Her car stalled just by the edge of town”. The woman looked at me; her eyes enquiring, but mostly friendly. “The one Rat and Juice went out for?”. Jackson nodded.

She shook my hand. “Gemma Teller”, she said. “Cat Rose”, I smiled. “You’re the new teacher down at the middle-school”, she said – more a statement than a question. I nodded. “Yeah, I am. How’d you know?”. “Gem knows everything”, the biker named Chibs said; and kissed Gemma’s cheek. “Hi, mom”.

I chuckled. “You seem a little too young to be his mom”. “Around here, I’m everyone’s mom”, she answered. “Though my only biological kid, is the cheeky blonde you rode bitch with”. I took that as meaning Jax was her son. The cheeky blonde sent me a smile. “Gemma will take care of you from here on”, he said. “See you around, teach’”. I smiled in return; and Jackson walked towards the clubhouse.

I followed Gemma into her office. “What’s the Sons of Anarchy?”, I asked. “Sweetheart, stick around long enough, you’ll find out”, she said. “Coffee?”. “Yeah, thanks”, I smiled.

I didn’t see any of my new biker friends the rest of the day; as my car arrived not long after we did. A mohawked Latino named Juice, of all things; informed me that my cooler was shot; and I needed a completely new starter. None of this made any sense to me; as I didn’t know anything about engines – but looking at the costs of repairs needed to have the vehicle function again; I decided to sell it for scrap.

“Too bad, honey”, Gemma said. “I had one of those as a teenager”. “You wanna buy it?”, I grinned. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in it”, she answered, and lit a cigarette; offering me one. I accepted. “Juice; is Tig still selling his old chevy?”. “Yeah, he hasn’t gotten a buyer yet. I think it’s ‘cuz it smells like wet dog”. I shook my head. “I won’t be able to afford it; with or without the smell”. Gemma winked at me. “I’ll get a you a good deal; and you can make payments”. I smiled. “I’m gonna like this town”. “We all do”, she smiled back.

—

Gemma gave me a ride to the motel I was going to stay at, until I found a new place. I got my four boxes and two suitcases out of her trunk and backseat; thanking her for all her help. “It’s me who should be thanking you. The school had been looking for a good arts teacher for over a year”. “I’m taking over 6’th and 7’th grade English as well”, I said. She laughed. “Mrs. Bloom finally decided to retire, huh?”, she said. “She taught both me and Jackson”. “Wow…”, I grimaced. “I’m not that old”, she said. “That’s not…”, I began. “Just pulling your leg sweetheart”, she smiled. “See you around”. She drove off, and left me to settle in to my new temporary home.

I spent the evening scanning the newspaper for cheap rentals. Money was scarce; but I knew the motel needed to be short term – especially after noticing the thin walls inability to hide the sounds of my neighbors having kinky sex. Some woman kept screaming Yes, Daddy!; making it difficult to concentrate on my apartment-hunting .

In the evening; after ordering a pizza; I decided to take a shower. I let the water run for a bit; before stepping in – trying to ignore the metallic smell of it. Washing 4 days of roadtripping off my body; I finally felt clean enough to face my new situation.

I’d left Chicago in a hurry; leaving my furniture, and only bringing my most cherished belongings. I wanted to get as far away from the city as possible; but a ticket to Hawaii was out of the question on my teachers’ salary – and I wasn’t ready to go back to dancing at clubs. Most of my last cash had been spent on the now dead Ford; that I’d sold for scrap through TM.

Chicago wasn’t my home town; but I’d thought it was the place for me. I’d been proven wrong, when a relationship had gone wrong. Very wrong. I’d needed to get away from the guy in question; as his possessive nature throughout our relationship had ended up scaring me. Trying to get a restraining order hadn’t worked due to his own contacts within the court-system. I wanted a new life. Maybe Charming could be the base for that.

Stepping out of the shower; I wrapped myself in a towel. There was a knock on the door, and I went to open it. Outside stood Jackson; a grin the size of the county on his handsome face. “You’re not pizza…”, I said. “Not the last time I checked”, he chuckled. “You left behind some paperwork at TM”. I looked down at my lack of clothing. “I should get dressed”, I smiled. “Come on in. Sorry about the mess”. He stepped inside. “It’s fine, darlin’. You should see my place”.

I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms, and a tank top from an open suitcase; and went into the bathroom. “Do you usually order pizza in just a towel?”, he called after me. “Only if the delivery-guy is really cute”, I called back. Shit… now you’re flirting with the biker. Good one, Cat. “I’ll have to change professions”, I heard him mutter.

I stepped back into the room, fully dressed. “What’s the paperwork?”, I asked. He handed me an envelope. “Just a signoff for the scrapping of the car”, he said. “It’s too bad. My mom had one of those back in the day”. “She told me”, I smiled. “Coffee?” He smiled. “Nah, sorry, I gotta run again”. “Too bad”, I said. Dammit! Stop, you idiot.

He chuckled. “It’s good to have some fresh blood in town. I hear you’re starting at the school. You’ll be teaching one of Opie’s kids. Ellie – sweet kid”. I signed the papers he’d handed me, and gave them back. “I’ll remember to give her good grades”, I said. “Yeah…”, he answered sadly. “She’s been through it. Her and Kenny both. Their mom died a year back”. “I’m sorry to hear that”, I answered earnestly. “Donna was a good mom. And a good old lady”, he said. “What’s that?”, I asked. “An old lady? Shit, you are new in town”, he smirked. I shrugged. “Just not used to biker lingo”, I winked. “I’ll have to get you used to it, then…”, he said with a smile. I chewed my lip, a rush of heat going through my body.

He remembered himself. “The car – the one you’re buying”, he said. “Tig will be down at the shop tomorrow night. You can pick up the keys then”. I exhaled; trying to calm down my budding crush on the gorgeous man in front of me. “Thanks. I’ll be there. 7 pm good?”. “We should be done with church by then”, he said. “Tomorrow’s not Sunday”, I answered. He chuckled. “Not that kind of church”. I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Biker lingo…”, I said. “Biker lingo”, he smirked.

We stood there for a while, both unsure what to say; before Jax broke the silence. “Tomorrow; it’s Gemma’s birthday. There’s gonna be a party at the clubhouse”, he said cautiously. “If you wanna stick around for a while…”. “Maybe”, I smiled.

“Yes Daddy! Slap that ass!”, we heard from next door. We both laughed. “If I’m not mistaken; Tig might be right next door. But it’s probably not a good time to disturb him”, Jackson said. “I’ll wait”, I agreed. “See you tomorrow?”. “I’m looking forward to it”, Jackson winked; and walked out the door; giving me a final grin; before closing it behind him.

Cat. You can’t have sex with the biker, I told myself. But the warm sensation streaming though me, told me I’d probably have a problem sticking to that, if I had the opportunity.

—

The next day I slept in; enjoying the feeling of being in an actual bed for the first time in days. I did some light shopping for groceries – the fridge in my motel room not being very big. The people I met seemed friendly enough, though a bit standoffish. I figured it was because I was new in town.

Walking back towards the motel; a group of bikers rode by – one of them being Opie. He lifted a hand in a wave at me. I noticed that the bikes were ridden almost in a procession; with a leader in front; and everyone else keeping to their assigned position in the group. It was led by a grey-haired man with a prominent jaw. He looked at me, and nodded. I nodded back.

Back in my room, I had a light lunch; and decided to figure out what the hell one wore for a birthday party at a biker club. I figured some skinny jeans and an off the shoulder, black t-shirt would have to do. Putting on my favorite necklace – a silvery hand with an eye in the middle; a Hamsa symbol – I let my hair hang lose; and put on a little makeup. Black cat eye; and red lips. It usually did the trick. You’re actually dressing up for the biker now, I smirked at myself.

I was early; so, I tracked down a coffee shop to sit and read a book. My shoulder bag usually had at least one volume in it. This week, it was American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I was completely concentrated on my book; when suddenly Chibs and a large curly haired man stepped in to the shop. “Well, look who we have here!”, Chibs smiled. “Bobby, this is the young lady who killed her car just outside town”. I grinned. “Thanks”, I said. “I needed a reminder of my bad mechanic skills”. “I aim to serve, madam”, the scot grinned. Bobby stuck out his hand. “Welcome to town, my lady”, he said; and kissed my hand chivalrously. “Careful Bob. VP’s got his eye on this one”, Chibs said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked. “Don’t worry about it”, Bobby grinned.

I took a sip of my coffee, and shook my head. “What are you doing here?”. “Coffee run for church. It was a long night”, Chibs winked. The man behind the counter handed over some coffees to Bobby; who pulled out his wallet. “Your money’s no good here”, the barista said. Bobby nodded. “How’s your mom?”, he asked. “Much better, thanks”, the man answered and smiled. “I’ll pay you back”. “We know you’re good for it, Gary”, Chibs said. He looked at me. “See you later?”. I nodded.

The bikers left the shop; and drove off towards TM. The barista walked up to me with my check. “Welcome to town”, he said warily. “Look… Samcro; they’re a part of this town; and they do a lot of good. But they’re in to some pretty bad stuff as well. Be careful”. He didn’t wait for an answer; but just went back behind his register. I frowned, and tried to wrap my head around his words. I paid Gary, and left the shop myself.

I decided to do some light sightseeing. It was Saturday; so most of the small shops closed early; but I made my way to the middle-school that would be my new place of work the coming Monday. The trek was a bit longer than I’d anticipated; so I was glad that I had a newish car set up for me. The building wasn’t large, but I figured it was large enough for the amount of kids in the area. The look of it gave me some peace of mind. It would be an easy start, I thought. And I was looking forward to it.

—

Walking back towards TM, I stopped by a florist who was closing up. I got a nice bouquet for Gemma, and walked into the auto-shop lot. The place was bustling with people. At least 20 bikes were parked in the lot; and everywhere people were shaking hands, and grabbing wrapped presents out of their cars. The men were all clad in leather; except for a man in a sheriff’s uniform; and the women were mostly wearing miniskirts and dresses – their boobs on display as much as possible.

I didn’t recognize any faces, and felt a bit anxious, before someone grabbed my shoulder. “Hey, darlin’”, Jax was beaming at me. He leant in and kissed my cheek; his stubble and short beard scratching my chin in a delicious way. “I’m glad you made it!”. “Yeah, me too”, I smiled. He took my hand, holding it confidently. “Come on. I’ll introduce you”.

We walked in to the clubhouse. It smelled like motor oil and whiskey, and the air was heavy with smoke. It should have put me off; but I was enjoying it. It reminded me of my former profession as a  dancer, and the kind of trouble I’d gotten in to then. Jackson let go of my hand, and put his own on my lower back, leading me to the bar counter. “You remember Opie”, he said; gesturing at the tall bearded man. With his helmet off, he was now wearing a hoodie, and had a beautiful blonde on his arm. Opie shook my hand and smiled at me friendlily. “This is Lyla”, he said softly, and gestured at the woman. “Nice to meet you”, she smiled. I thought I recognized her face from somewhere, but I couldn’t make the connection. “Cat”, I smiled, and shook her hand.

Jax led me on. “Chibs and Juice, you know as well; and I’m told you already met Bobby”. The men both nodded at me. “Then there’s Happy…”. A tall menacing man sent me a warm smile. “Piney; Opies dad”; Jackson said, gesturing at an elderly man with an oxygen tank hanging from his shoulder. Jackson looked at a scrawny looking guy, and a tall heavy man standing next to him. “Those are the prospects. They don’t matter”. I scrunched my brows at him. “Trust me”, he chuckled.

We walked towards a dark-skinned, kind looking woman, holding a beautiful baby in her arms. “Hey Neeta”, Jax smiled, and took the baby from her; holding it to his chest. His face was glowing with pride. “And this is my boy. Abel”. I let the baby hold my finger, and smiled at his chubby face. “Hi, Abel”. Jacksons eyes met mine; gleaming. “Is… his mom…”, I tried – fearing the answer. “Not around”, Jax answered. “It’s better that way”, he said meaningfully. I nodded. It wasn’t the time.

Abel started fussing. Jax took a baby-blanket from a diaper-bag on a table. “Did you bring…?”, Jax said, before Neeta handed him a bottle. Jax smiled warmly in thank you. He put the bottle to Abel’s mouth. “Here you go, little dude”. He bounced the baby up and down softly. “You’re good at that”, I smiled. “My mom would have my ass, if I wasn’t”, he grinned. “Besides, he’s my little man”. I stroked a finger over the baby’s forehead. “He’s perfect”. Jax looked at me proudly. “Yeah”, he smiled.

I looked around. “Where is your mom, by the way?”. “Shit, yeah”, he said, looking at the watch on his wrist. Jackson kissed the top of Abel’s head, and handed the bottle back to Neeta. “Gemma and Clay will be here in 5”, he called into the room. “She doesn’t know why she’s here. So quiet the hell up!”. There was a rumbling of an engine outside. “Shit, they’re early!”, Bobby said. “Turn off the lights!”.

Someone hit the lights; and about ten seconds later the door opened. “Goddammit, Clay”, Gemma grumbled, as she walked in. “You promised to take me to dinner, you jerk!”.

“Surprise!”, everyone yelled; and the lights turned on again. Gemma stood, mouth agape; flanked by the grey-haired man I’d seen on the road earlier; and a black-haired man with piercing eyes, I figured was Tig. “Oh my God!”, Gemma cried out. “You assholes!”. She laughed, and began hugging the people around her. Jackson walked up to his mom; and embraced her warmly; Abel still in his arms. Gemma kissed first Jackson; and then the baby, taking him from Jax’s arms. “You guys are dicks”, she said; happy tears in her eyes. The grey-haired man – Clay – put his arm around her waist, and kissed her warmly. “Happy birthday, baby”, he said. “At least you remembered it this year”, Gemma pouted playfully at him.

She looked towards me, a sense of wonder in her eyes. I smiled, and mouthed happy birthday. She mouthed me a thank you in response; followed by a warm smile. For a second her eyes shifted from me to Jackson, and she narrowed her eyes at him; whispering something in his ear. He laughed in response, and looked at me, biting his lip. He nodded at his mom, and walked back to me.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asked. “Please”, I said, smiling nervously. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re here with me”. I laughed. “Maybe that’s why I’m worried”. He winked at me. “In that case, you should be worried. Word around the street is, I’m dangerous”. He kissed my cheek again, and put his arm around me. “Rat, get this lady a beer”. The scrawny prospect handed over a cold bottle, and I took a welcome sip of it.

Opie joined us. “You’re teaching my kid this year”, he said. “Yeah, Jackson told me”, I answered. The tall man looked a bit uncomfortable. “She’s been having some issues… It’s been messing with her schoolwork”. I smiled comfortingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be a hard-ass”, I said. Opie smiled softly. “Thanks”, he muttered.

Jax looked at his friend. “I told Cat about Donna”, he said. Opie nodded and met my eyes. “So you get it”, he said. “I do”, I said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”. Opies expression warmed. “Thanks”, he said. “Cheers”, he said, raising his bottle at me. We clinked our beers, and both took a sip.

Opie looked meaningfully at Jax. “We got that thing, brother”, he muttered. Jackson frowned slightly, and looked at me. “I need to do some business”, he said, and put a strand of hair behind my ear. “Be back in a bit”. He walked off with Opie, leaving me to sit on a stool by the bar.

The black-haired man walked up next to me. “I hear you’re in need of a car”, he said, accepting a beer from the larger prospect. “I’m Tig”. “Cat”, I answered. “I know”, he winked at me. “It’s a piece of shit old chevy, but it’s better than the one you came to town in”. “Anything is better than that”, I laughed. He handed me a set of keys. “80 a month for a year work for you?”, he said. “That’s cheap”, I said, frowning slightly. “We take care of our own”, Tig said, and patted my shoulder. “By the way; if you get sick of the VP, let me know”, he smirked. I laughed again. “Sure, Daddy”, I grinned. “So the was you, next door”, he chuckled. I shrugged, and nodded.

Juice stepped up to stand on the other side of me. “Hey”, he said, giving me a crooked smile, and a lifted brow. Tig tapped him over the head. “Hands of, Juicy!”, he said. “Jax territory”. The young biker took a step away from me. “Sorry”, he laughed nervously. I shook my head, laughing. “This place is weird”, I said. “Welcome to town”, Tig said; and clinked his bottle to mine, taking a sip of beer. I joined him in the drink. We took a shot of whiskey together, before Tig’s attention went to a busty brunette in the corner. “Excuse me”, he muttered; and sauntered off, leaving me alone again.

I decided to look for a friendly face in the crowd, being a bit uncomfortable on my own. Jax hadn’t come back for his business yet, and I was worried he’d leave me alone all night. Lyla was standing with another woman, looking like they were gossiping about something. She caught my eye and waved me over. “How are you holding up?”, she asked. The other woman walked off; climbing on to Happy’s lap, where he was sitting on a couch. “Uhm…”, I began. “I just got in to town, and I’m already having drinks with the local biker gang. I’d say I’m a little out of my comfort zone”. She smiled friendlily at me. “You’ve already bagged the vice president. You’re doing just fine”, she said. “I haven’t bagged anyone”, I smiled. “He’s known you for 2 days, and already invited you to his mom’s birthday. I’d say you’re a bit more than some crow-eater”, Lyla responded.

I took another sip of my beer. “What’s a crow-eater?”. Lyla chuckled. “Ok, quick lowdown on the women in the club”, she began. “Most of the women in here, are what we call crow-eaters. They hang around the club, make the men feel good about themselves… you know”. “An easy lay”, I muttered. “Yeah”, Lyla smiled. “Some of us are what you’d call old ladies. We’re the ones who have locked our men down. See this…”. She showed me a tattoo of a flying crow on her shoulder. “This means no one but Opie touches me”. “Doesn’t it feel weird to be… marked, like that?”. I grimaced. “Sorry… I didn’t mean…”. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I get it”, Lyla responded. “This is just my way of showing everyone around me that I belong to Opie; but also, that Opie belongs to me”.

She smiled, and took my hand, squeezing it. “You seem nice, so I’ll let you in on a secret. This life… it’s not easy; but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love Opie – and his kids. He takes care of me and my boy”. She looked at me meaningfully. “But if you’re unsure about whether this is your idea of a good life; you should walk away. I mean that in the nicest way. Please don’t take it as anything else”. I gave her a crooked smile. “I’ll take it a day at a time”. She nodded.

A hand grabbed mine. Jax was standing next to me. “Hey”, he said softly. “Come say hi to my mom”. I followed him over to Gemma. “Hey sweetheart”, she said. “Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful”. “You’re welcome”, I smiled. “This is my husband, Clay”, she said, and the man at her side shook my hand. His eyes were deep and menacing; and I was unsure whether to be afraid of him or respect him. “Welcome to town, teach’”, he said. “Thanks. It’s been good so far”. Clay nodded at me, and looked at Jax. “Did you finish that business?”. Jackson clenched his jaw. “It’s done”, he said. “I made the call”. “Good”, Clay said. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t blow back on us”.

Gemma patted his chest. “No club business on my birthday, baby”. Clay smiled at his wife, and kissed her again. “Yes, ma’am”, he muttered. Gemma looked at Jax. “Do you need me to take the baby tonight?”. Jax looked at me, and then back at his mom. “Would you?”. “You know I love taking him”, she smiled. “Make it my birthday present”. Jackson chuckled. “Shit, I’ll take back the diamond necklace then”, he said. He took my hand. “Come on, let’s find somewhere quiet”. My breath hitched, and I followed him out of the clubhouse.

We sat down by a picnic table just outside the door. Jax had brought us a pair of freshly opened beers. “You doing ok?”, he asked earnestly. “Yeah”, I smiled. “Just … a bit out of my element”. He bit his lip and looked at me enquiringly. “What element is that?”, he asked. “I dunno… I usually don’t go to mc-parties”. He chuckled, and took my hand. “I’m glad you’re here”. “You don’t even know me”, I said quietly.

He sighed. “Tell me, then”. “What do you want to know?”, I smiled nervously. “Whatever you want to share”, he shrugged. “Why?”, I asked. He looked at me with a genuine warmth. “Because I’ve been thinking about you ever since you wrapped these hands around my waist, and it sent chills down my spine”. He took my other hand, linking his fingers with mine. “Where did you come from?”.

I didn’t know how much to tell him. I was still mentally sore from my ordeal with the guy in Chicago – but his serious expression made me trust him. “Chicago”, I said. “I was a teacher there as well. It didn’t work out…”. “Why?”. I sighed. “The city can wear a girl down”, I smiled theatrically. “And there was… a guy. He didn’t know how to take no for an answer”. Jacksons jaw clenched. “What’d he do to you?”, he almost growled “At first he was fine. We had a few dates, before he suddenly proclaimed his love for me”. “You didn’t feel the same way?”, Jax asked. “No. I mean; back then, he was friendly, had a steady job… He saw himself as a catch; and I guess he was. But I just didn’t care about him like that. He was… possessive. I tried to call it off, but he acted like I’d never said anything, and continued dropping by at my school; sending me flowers; and showing up at my apartment at all hours of the day”. Jackson bit his lip. “Sorry… I guess you’re off men for a while”, he said, and met my eyes again. I smiled. “No. Just him”. “Good to know”, he muttered. “But why didn’t you get a restraining order?”.

I sighed again. “I tried… he has connections. When he didn’t like my way of handling things, he let the word spread in the school council that I had an issue with drugs”. Jax shook his head angrily. “Asshole”. “Yeah”, I agreed. “I managed to get the drug accusations of my record – but it was too late, and I was fired”. “So you came to Charming”. I nodded. “I looked at names of towns on the west coast; and Charming seemed promising”, I smiled. “There was an opening as a teacher the elementary school; so I applied – and they must have been desperate, ‘cuz they gave me the position with just a phone interview”.

He squeezed my hands again. “I’m glad you’re here”. “Me too”, I muttered.

Jax put his hand on my cheek, and stroked my temple. “So if you’re not off men… mind if I give it a shot?”. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a smile, and shook my head.

He leant in, and stroked his nose against mine. Our lips brushed each other for a second; and he kissed me. I parted my lips slightly, and the tip of his tongue met mine. He put his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to him. He smelled like leather and some musky cologne; a warm smell that fit him perfectly – and his kiss tasted like the beer he’d been drinking, and mint chewing gum.

He exhaled deeply and pulled back a bit. “Do you want to get out of here?”, he asked softly. My body was screaming yes, but I was desperately trying to control myself. “Jax… I just moved into town. We’ve known each other for 5 minutes… I don’t think…”. “I get it”, he smiled. “I’m not expecting you to jump in to bed with me. But I do want to see you again”. “I’d like that”, I smiled.

Our lips met again. “You taste like… pancakes”, he smiled. “Is that good?”, I smiled. “It’s perfect”, he said against my lips, kissing me deeply one more time.

The door opened, and Juice stepped outside with a ginger girl. “Shit, sorry”, he smiled. “It’s fine, Juice, the table is yours. Just clean it up afterwards”, Jackson smiled. “Come on”, he said to me, pulling me with him.

“I think it’s time for me to go home”, I said softly. He looked at me with a kind smile. “You want a ride?”. I jingled the keys in my pocket. “I got a new car; remember?”. Jax groaned. “Shit; I would have loved to have these legs wrapped around me, in one way or another”. He slid a hand over my thigh; squeezing them gently.

Juice looked impatient; and Jax took my hand – leading me over to a black, classic looking Chevrolet. “Wow…”, I said. “I popped an air freshener in there for you. It had a pretty gnarly smell”, Jax chuckled. “Thanks”, I smiled, and looked at him warmly.

Getting into the car – immediately thanking Jax an extra time for the air freshener; as it was needed – I rolled down the window. “Thanks for inviting me”, I smiled at the blonde man. Jax took the hand I had resting in the window-opening, and squeezed it – winking at me. His face suddenly dropped. “Shit, Cat. I didn’t get your number…”. I grinned, and rattled of my digits, and he punched the number into a flip phone from his pocket. Who uses flip phones anymore?

Jax leant in, and planted a final soft kiss against my lips. “Bye”, he whispered, and bit his lower lip. I smiled and started up the engine. My new car purred, and I had a wide smile on my face, as I left the lot – sending a final look towards the picnic table, where Juice was face deep in the red-haired girls cleavage.

Welcome to Charming, I grinned to myself, and drove off.

—

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[esthyradler]

I am Dungeon anon, djdjdjf. I hope submit is OK to use. But I didn't want be creative in attempting to fit everything in one post or in several posts. That might have the misfortune of being eating by the blob that lives inside all post boxes.

So here's the vague I'd I've had for a while now. Ok, not this one, this one only sprung to life by with that other anons writing story ask.

I have lots of IZ OC's only 3 are flushed, however, and only 1 is Irken and would work in accidentally finding Dr.Zam.

So, my Irken OC used to be a Elite Invader top in his smeet class, not as a whole, but among his smeet siblings. Since, I'm not sure of Zams age, but given my own Irkens timeline and what I gathered of Zams timeline. Either mine is a smeet group before, two groups above or actually during Zams time. (Still haven't decided if smeets are born in categorized classes. Like Invader smeets to one smeetary and science needs to another.) So, unsure if their actually smeet siblings, if the same age, again.

Anyway, during my Irkens invader life he was pretty vicious, even partook in the irken gladiator arena for sport between Invading worlds. On one mission he even turned off the air support on a whole planet and felt smug that he'd outsmarted n hid in fake skin never to be discovered, as he watched them all suffocate. He was true green Irken Nationalist - you know - more power to my people above all else, kinda Irken. Belief in Irken ideals that they were superior to organic lifeforms and all other races were inferior to the Irken Empire, that by enslaving n killing other interior lifeforms the Irken empire was in fact helping them. (Yeah brainwashed zombie.)

Anyway, karma is cruel n teaches us many things, like your whole way of life has been a lie and your no more important to the empire you pleadged to give your life to then other species you enslave n murder.

He was sent on his fifth invading planet right after being honoured and gifted a new ship for his last invade. When he was captured by the planet and headed over to their leading scientist. Dubbed 'insanity' A creature so devoid of apathy n emotions he experiments on his own people without blinking, just for shits n giggles.

He tore my irken apart. Broke him down mentally and physically. But it wasn't the torture or experiments that got my irken. It was the fact The Empire had been sending their leading invaders to their planet for years without a single success. Never to hear from a single one, or ever giving warning to future invaders of its danger. Because they meant nothing, once a toy was broken it was thrown away like garbage.

In the end my Invader wouldn't break. Wouldn't spill The Empires secrets. So he was given a virus in his PAK that would create a back door into The Control system n decimate the mem frame, wrack it from the iniade out, why giving the locations to every Irken whose PAK was still connected to Irk. N even has fellow irkens eye implanted in with a camera to watch the show.

But, what the alien scientist didn't know was. My irken may not of broke for him. He broke at very idea of returning to Irk and what The Massive and control brains would do to him if they learner he'd been defeated n let go. That he was a defected irken now, because he felt wrong. Complete mental breakdown ended up running from Irken space and has never looked back since. Especially, after finding out what was done to his PAK. He may hate what The Empire stands for, but he still believes in his people n what they could accomplish as free beings.

Dxhtrxtxxu, sorry, I figured that needed to be said to understand why everything happened.

My irken has killed a fellow smeet Invader Irken who accidentally ended sucked throw a black whole to his neck of the woods n he aligns himself in The Empires eyes just by knowing n speaking to other aliens aligned with The Resistance n The Resisty. Not mention defected, a traitor, still alive and so in. Lots of racked up reasons to be an enemy now.

I figure my aquatic Bounty Hunter working for The Sub branch The Resisty. Ends up way in over their head n leading several Irken towards my Irken. Or they are together my bounty hunter n irken possibly inspecting a new planet for the plant life (my irken is now a space green witch. They deal in the healing art of plants n such. They are very sick - ill explain that only if asked.) n their scanners on their ships don't pick up an training party of irken. Ooor they were already on the planet when the party shows up.

My Irken knows he's got a better chance of being kept alive n either escaping himself or being rescued tyab an inferior alien with ties to The Resisty who more then likely be killed right away.. Not mention he doesn't have the best self esteem anymore n if he dies it's no big deal. But the bounty hunter is his friend, their more then a friend, their the glue that holds my irken together.

So they cause a distraction or fight through all they fear to allow the bounty hunter to get away. N the irkens are more invested in traitors irken then some backwater planet alien.

In order to be kept alive longest my irken tells them in exchange for life imprisonment he'll tell The Empire all they want to know about their Enemies.. of course he's not involved with the Resisty.. knows nothing.. but he know how to be an Invader. He knows how lie n bullshit n work the system at the same time. (He knows they'll kill him after they get what they want. But he has a backup for that too.) He knows even the highest ranking irken can't make this decision alone.. so they gave no choice but to return him to Irken space to contact Irk.. because let's say the Massive doesn't exist anymore.. thank you florpis n Zim.

However, when get to Irk or radio in when close he lays down n the new tallest say simply to strip him of pak n download the info. He smiles n says he's been implanted with a virus any attempt to mess with his pak will infect every online system n destroy them. (He's bluffing.. as far as he knows. But they Don't know that.) Everyone's freaking out now n what to do with him. He's worth so much more alive than dead but he's also a danger.. so the tallest is like. The dungeons.. put him in the dungeons. Their old n there's no tech down there.. no way to infect the rest if irks whole gride system hundred if feet below the surface of irk.. untill they can figure out how to either exstrack the info without him or until they can get it out if him willing as before n just leave him down there to rot after.

At some point either my irken gets out n starts snooping around for a back exist or he just so happens to be stuck in same room as zams prison box.

Also, I figured out a way to keep Zam alive for so long without food or water or nutrient.. Irkens n their PAKs can go into a hibernation like the Wolly Bear Caterpillars.. Who freeze in winter, zero body functions, meaning they are essential dead n not using any resources.. He could be down there for eons without actual death.

I figure the smallest PAK function would be scan the area for other PAKs.. So Zam can one day escape. N his PAK senses my Irkens PAK n - that's as far as I have thought.

Just know Zam is going have to deal with my Irkens PTSD n emotional moments.. Being back in a dungeon all over.. being on irk around other irkens.. woo so many triggers. There might be even moments Zam will halve to talk my irken down from attempted murder as zones n blacks out from bounty of animalistic fear. (But, l figured he's not all stupid n excited puppy scientist. He's got lots of sides to him, especially, if he's going to be able to take care of Zim. So, he should do fine with this.)

I think I covered everything. Sorry about mistakes, I'm super nervous, hard writing this on a phone n I didn't write everything down. If there are more questions about the story or my Irken or any concerns in general, please ask. Oh, utccitcut n my OC Irkens name is Kravis or Krais as an Elite Invader it was SIVARK or SIARK (Still unsure about the missing irken letters in their language.)

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

This sounds interesting so far(i have a different idea for the whole zam au thing, but I'll allow anyone to make up scenarios with my oc, its sounds cool)

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Siren & The Healer (8)

Natasha Romanoff arc

Chapter 8: The Raven Haired Man

Platonic Natasha x fem!Reader, Loki x fem!Reader (soulmates?)

Theme: With cracks between the most powerful superheroes of the earth, Natasha Romanoff does not find rest when she is assigned on a mission to find the missing pieces of a puzzling power that once nearly got into the hands- rather, tentacles- of Hydra. In order to unearth the pieces, she must dig through her own past and make a decision that might decide the fate of the earth in the coming wars.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, friendship, and whatnot

Chapter warnings: alcohol, dreams, shock, love, lots of PDA

A/N: This was written a few years ago with an OC in mind so reader has a name but it is a reader insert.

Word Count: Will I ever be able to find love?

MASTERLIST in bio, love

“Identification.”

“Alianovna. I’m here to see your boss.”

The six and a half feet tall muscled giant looked down at the redhead with emotionless eyes, not making an effort to move even his eyelids.

“The boss isn’t in,” he finally huffed out, eyeing you standing behind the assassin.

“Really, Krugo? Do you want to tell your boss you made her wife walk away from right outside her door?”

Natasha could feel your eyes go wide with a muted gasp barely escaping your lungs. “You are-” you tried to hold the excitement within, balancing your voice- “married. Cool! Very cool! Cool cool cool cool cool cool!”

“Boss’ wife had promised me cookies,” Krugo muttered under his breath.

Natasha smirked and you felt the need to come into full view of the bodyguard with a huge box in your hand. “This must be for you then,” you declared, opening the lid to show huge chocolate chip cookies waiting to be devoured.

Krugo watched the bounty intensely before breaking into a smile. “You never forget.”

“Of course not, Krugo,” Natasha acknowledged with a hug for the cute giant, who went ahead and opened the door for her and you to be let in.

“How do you balance your-” you flailed your hands in the air for the shortage of words for what you were experiencing- “work and personal life?”

Natasha kept walking down the dark corridor till she was at the door marked ‘Restricted entrance’, turning the knob to open it for the both of you. “It’s not that hard when you and your partner are in the same line of business,” she put it mildly before directing you to walk inside the room equipped with monitors, recorders, IR boxes and whatnot. And in the midst of it all stood a woman with her arms across the chest and her demeanour that declared she ran the goddamn place without even saying it.

“Rosa,” the assassin greeted her wife with a tone dipped in the morning dew and spread all over the skin with the utmost tenderness by the lover.

Rosa was an entire world in herself from where you stood. Her soft curls ending from the raven hair into golden brown ends framing her face perfectly. Her lips wore a mocha shade- soft and notoriously sexy at the same time- while everything else was bare. She was dressed in a black blouse over blue jeans being complimented by a black leather jacket and for the second time in one day, you were starting to question your orientation.

“Tasha,” Rosa greeted back- her heavy voice a strong declaration in itself- taking a step towards her wife, bringing her hands to settle on her waist before running up her back as she kissed her. You pretended to find a coffee mug on the table interesting to give the wives some privacy till Natasha made introductions.

“Are we adopting her?” Rosa casually spewed while opening beer bottles for the guests. Natasha burst in giggles while you stood there confused.

“I am an adult,” you stressed, “a full-blown adult, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Beer, adult?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’d prefer something stronger with the kind of day I’ve had.”

Rosa smirked and you could see the same movements that you saw in Natasha when she first had a conversation with you. She was already studying you up and down. “I’m sorry I have to ask because curiosity is killing me. Are you a black widow too?”

Rosa took a sip of her beer while Natasha sat in her wife’s chair and looked at her with her fingers resting on her lips and other hand caressing the beer bottle in her hand- looking like a human struck with love for the very first time.

“I was,” Rosa stated, sitting down on the table, one leg dangling, “but I got out of the system early and made my way through the world till I settled here. For now. Currently, I’m a Detective and a home-made jewellery maker. What about you?”

“I’m supposed to be studying Artificial Intelligence, Data Science and Networks but I’m currently at crossroads with my career decisions and have a couple of nicely suited hitmen chasing me for reason unknown. Your wife says it’s something to do with some ancient weapon that someone might have told me about. But all things ancient- especially the secrets- that I’ve been told about are either violent, racist or incredibly sexist in nature. And none of them mentions any ancient weapons to take out modern Nazis or that creepy guy who keeps calling your wife a...a...what was that word?”

“Rusalka,” Natasha helped, making Rosa’s head whip in her direction with her eyes going wide.

“I thought he was dead!” Natasha shrugged at her wife's reaction.

“Why does he keep calling you a mermaid?” you were genuinely interested in knowing the history there.

“He’s actually calling me a siren when he uses that term,” Natasha mentioned matter-of-factly. Rosa shifted from the table to a chair beside Natasha, taking her arm in her own, letting her fingers entangle slowly to rub away whatever stress she could. “He has always called me that. Ever since we were kids.”

“...because you lured enemies with songs?” You tried to guess.

“Because I was made into a weapon who would lure the enemies with the illusion of becoming what they desired the most. A damsel in distress they could dominate, an invisible records keeper they could blurt out their secrets to, a useless spy they would share their plans with because they had big egos, a lover, a widow, a victim, an object of pleasure, a friend, a keeper. It’s really not that hard to deceive men. I mean, so was every other black widow.”

Your furrowed brows took everything in for those two seconds of silence. “Yeah, the mermaid thing makes sense if every widow was a siren. Mermaids are pretty badass too. On top it a Russian Mermaid? I mean-” you ended the sentence by mimicking an explosion in the head.

Rosa chuckled. “I like her,” she muttered into Natasha’s shoulder before turning to you, “have a drink at the bar. On the house. Tell them my name. And if anyone tries to mess with you tell them they rather mind their business if they don’t want to end up like Damon. They’ll know what it means.”

“Cool!” you exclaimed before going back out into the club, leaving the two lovebirds to finally get some alone time to themselves. Rosa took the opportunity to drag Natasha into the couch with her, wrapping her in her arms and cuddling with her; showering her with kisses till she could feel her wife’s shoulders let go of the stress they had been holding throughout the day.

“Tell me what’s going on, Tasha,” she softly spoke into her ears while Natasha played with Rosa’s hair.

“Whoever Yuri is working with is after Keosha. At first, the theory was that she knows something or has something to do with the weapon Hydra is after. But I’m starting to question that after she saved me from falling debris by just placing her hands under it.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Rosa, she was making chunks of rocks float! When I asked her she said this had happened for the first time. She said she was taught this old Japanese art of healing where the force of the universe is used to heal and protect things. She said when she saw me trapped and about to be hit by the falling ceiling the force worked like an adrenaline rush and she blocked it. Well, the force blocked it. That’s what she kept saying. That she’s just a medium and the force was doing all of it.”

“Weird but okay. Go on.”

“So, Nakia went-oh, she’s-”

“I know who she is. Go on.”

Natasha raised her brows at Rosa, turning her face up a little to be caught off guard by the little peck that came on her forehead. “Nakia talked to her sources and confirmed that there is an existence of monks in Japan who practise this form of healing and are said to take on anyone as a student who is willing to learn. And often in the past, they have experienced a short surge of that...thing to protect people during floods or some catastrophic events. In comparison, what happened today was nothing.”

“Okay. So, if she’s a noob in this healing thing, she won’t be of much use as a weapon to Yuri.”

“Right?”

“Maybe her teacher or someone like that is connected to the weapons?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. The last time the weapon was nearly in Hydra’s hand was in India. Keosha grew up in India till her father moved to Japan with her. Then she was between countries and continents for a while. If they had to come all the way for her, it could mean that the weapon wasn’t that country anymore. Or the person connected to it. And Keosha seems to be the only key.”

Natasha loved the rise of Rosa’s chest when she sighed, the former burying herself in that warmth and closing her eyes. “Looks like you have your work cut out for you, shortcake,” Rosa hummed, stroking those fiery strands to put her love at ease. “Hmm,” Natasha replied, breathing in the familiar scent of cocoa coming from Rosa’s chest, “I do. But for now, I’d rather lay here in your arms.”

.

The club was lit in a golden glow off the walls with a dance floor separated from the bar with a decent sitting arrangement right in the middle that faced the stage for occasional performances. You enjoyed tonight’s performance by someone who went by the name Serena with a Long Island in your hand and another on its way. It was relaxing, the serenade of the sweet voice mixed with whatever incense was burning inside this place to make it smell so good. Wonder what Rosa’s looking for in such a place. 

“Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”

You had jumped at the voice being so close to you before turning around to see a man leaning on the bar, next to you, almost at the edge of invading your personal space.

“I have one, thanks,” you politely declined, going back to enjoy the performance.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” the man continued, stepping closer this time to raise all the alarms in your body, “let’s take a corner and get to know each other a little.”

Your brows crinkled hard and turned to face him. “I’m sorry, are you hard of hearing? Or is something wrong with your sight?” The man did not know what to say so you continued. “Are you sure you can hear clearly? Because I just said no. And if that doesn’t suffice, do I look like someone who would be ready to bang the first person she sees in the club?”

The man made incoherent noises like a lost ostrich, not sure what to say. “She’s wearing a Hello Kitty t shirt with baggy jeans to a club, man. How could she not be more obvious?!”

“Yes! Thank you!” you acknowledged the other voice next to you, turning to see a middle aged man with a french goatee and shaded glasses nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks that were raised in your direction.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking?” the man shot his head back a little with a shade of confusion as he looked at you. You could not help but notice the expensive blue suit he wore to tell you he wasn’t some low life, unlike the other guy who made himself scarce as soon as the embarrassment hit him.

“Aren’t you too old to be wearing glasses inside a club?” you hit back, raising your glass to clink his.

“No, but seriously,” he continued after taking a sip of his whiskey, “you look too young. Hey, Marvin, did you check her ID? Did you come here alone?”

“Oh my G-”

“What! This isn’t a place for kids. Wait, are you safe? Are you in some kind of danger? Look at me. Look at me. Blink twice if you’re being used by some shady peeps for some shady businesses.”

An eye contest later- which this man lost- you finally spoke. “I’m fine. I’m here with a friend. And I am an adult. So, do you mind if I have my drink in peace?”

He raised his hands in peace and went back to his own drink.

A long satisfying sip later, something started bugging you. “Have we met before?”

“Me?” The man asked just to be sure. “You? I'm sure I would've remembered Hello Kitty."

You kept staring at him till your brain hurt. "Ugh! I swear I feel like I've seen you somewhere. But for some reason, you seem much...younger?"

The man feels his head jolt and his eyes nearly pop out. "You mean I was younger when we met? Allegedly."

"No. I mean when we met, you seemed old and...and wrinkled and definitely tired. Like dead tired."

Before he could say anything, he got caught in your eyes searching for something on his shoulder. "What."

"Is your arm okay?" You poked him over his blazer, making him smack yours away.

"Hey! My arm's okay. Don't touch me!"

"Huh...maybe it was someone else then?" You stared at his arm for a while before giving up. "You don't seem like the type to suit up in some weird funky suit anyways."

The man's back went straight as an arrow. "Okay, listen, young lady. One, no one wears and pulls off suits like me. Two, there hasn't been any mofo born who can do it like me. And three, why are we still talking?"

"Oh, I'm sitting here because you're giving off such a dad vibe that no douchebag has come over to offer me a drink. And you're sitting here because you are waiting for someone that clearly hasn't shown up yet," you concluded, popping a peanut in your mouth before taking a good sip of your Tea.

"Phone Call for you, Mr Stark." The bartender drove a metaphorical sword through the whole conversation with a wireless phone in his hand.

"Looks like you a busy man, Mr Stark. See ya later."

"Hey," the man addressed as Stark called out for you when you left your seat at the bar, "you better not be running into trouble, kid."

You guffawed, trying to hold your stomach to not barf any of the liquor you just had. "Thanks for the advice, dad, but it looks like trouble is kinda my thing now."

With that last salutation, you tried to make your way back to wherever you came from- your drunken brain trying to make sense of the passageways that appeared in front of you.

In those very passageways you tried to make sense of dreams- the ones that reluctantly came to you- and some unrelated memories that somehow always found its way to mingle with the present, no matter where you were, what you were doing; there always seemed to be ghosts of the past revolving around you, questioning your existence.

“Stark,” Your tongue repeated that name, time and again, like some forgotten flavour wanting to be revisited by your brain forcefully. Oh...only if you knew. Only if you knew.

I have to go to the loo. Where the fuck is the fucking loo?! It was a nightmare for two minutes before you finally found the door with the engravings shouting out “female” before you ran in and shut the door behind you and let the dams break as soon as the mirror showed you your sweet face.

You knew it was just the drinks but the feelings inside you poured themselves out, trying to find an outlet they could before they were shut down.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck is happening?! I never asked for this?! What the fuck is happening?! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh Fuck! Why am I crying? Why am I CRYING?!!”

As if to answer your prayers behind those closed eyes, you saw a green pair of eyes looking straight at you with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. “You are stronger than you give yourself credit for,” they announced in your direction, forcing you to get up and find your way. And so you did.

Turning the knob you barged into that one room you knew was safe.

“WE HAVE TO FIND MY MASTER, NAT! SHE’S IN JAPAN!”

It was one of those moments when- even though you were proud of yourself, you did not want to live anymore, thanks to the peak of drunkenness you were currently swimming in. The flush of heat in your cheek was proof enough to drive you out when you saw Natasha and Rosa busy in...having the time of their life.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” you nearly felt yourself cry before bowing to the host and running outside, never remembering Krugo leading you to the VVIP lounge where the Stark guy let you sleep with your head on his lap while he waited for the news on his friend and gently patted you to sleep while constantly cursing himself and calling his girlfriend to ask what to do in case of a drunken kid sleeping in his lap.

.

Loki woke up with a headache- a low compensation for what he had experienced right before he had been tormented into a coma.

“What happened?”

Though the question was a genuine throwback from his end, it irritated the hell out of the sisters who had tried to mend the biggest crises of their lives seconds ago.

“You hit your head and went into a coma” Nebula narrated with ease and patience fit for a storyteller of the ancient times. “Here, drink this,” she offered him some water.

Loki, reluctant to be deceived by any more mind tricks, observed the water in Nebula’s hands before being convinced it was safe to drink.

“Why are we even helping him?” Loki heard Gamora utter those words before being given a judgmental stare by her sister to quiet down and let her take the lead.

“Are you alright?” the younger one asked the God with genuine concern in those beady eyes as she wiped away the blood from the wound slowly healing in Loki’ head.

Loki did not give a convincing answer before drowning- once again- in the maze of the leftover chaotic flashbacks he was witnessing of some life unknown- something different to his own existence before he regained control of his presence; his true present.

“I’m fine,” he finally blurted out, his hands still grasping onto the metal rod in the ship that was helping him maintain his equilibrium. “Where’s the loo?”

Even though it was satisfying for the entire spaceship for the moment, it wasn’t sufficient for him. He walked with a pretentious walk towards the loo before locking the door behind him as he tried to balance his mind. His fingers was digging into his temple while he was trying to get to the root of whatever he had been witnessing- the incoherent cries, tumbling buildings, fast-paced heartbeats, chaos and whatnot till he was focused on those y/e/c eyes reflecting the cheap lights of some shady dancefloor till they were mixed in them, dancing and mingling with them right till the second a heavy voice rang in your ears. “We have to get you to a safe place.” If it weren’t for the emergency, Loki’s subconscious was sure of having already mingled with the sweet poison that was those eyes and be lost in them.

.

You were sure you had cried. Cried while Natasha and Rosa tried to get you out of the club and to the plane waiting for you by the edge of the city, You were pretty sure Aneka wanted to throw you out of the jet if weren’t for Natasha and Nakia holding her back, asking you to drink water after every thirty minutes.

“Where are we going?” Your teary, subconscious state asked Nakia.

“Japan,” she answered before she was content that you had ample amount of water and that Aneka was at a considerable distance from you as possible. For now.

“Who is that guy with that long, black, sexy hair?” you asked a genuinely confused Natasha.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about sweetie” were the last words you heard before slumber took over everything in this dark world.

[fyompi]

Remembering Final Fantasy X-2

It’s hard to assess whether to call X-2 “good,” but if I did, I wouldn’t mean “good” in the most traditional sense. The game is an unnecessary sequel to one of the best Japanese role-playing games ever made, and turns a somber, existential, occultist storyline into an upbeat comedy. 

What’s weird is that I don’t dislike this at all. Final Fantasy games have always been funny, and have arguably relied more on their world building than actual plot. They’re visually super interesting. Their character and monster designs are discussed more now than anything that actually happens in them. 

Maybe somebody from Enix realized this, for better or worse. There’s nothing about the structure and framework of the Final Fantasy series that limits them to being strictly dramas. Recognizing that fact made the existence of a comedy entry sort of an inevitability. 

Final Fantasy X-2 is effectively a magical girl anime. A genre of anime that is notably, and characteristically created for girls. Transformation sequences, in which a teenage female character changes outfits from regular surface-level Earthling attire, to a vibrant and glittery superhero popstar, is a mainstay in the genre. Usually, these shows were divided into two segments: one depicting the main character’s day-to-day “normal” life, like a regular sitcom, and then later changing into an action fantasy show for like five minutes. The bulk of the shows had little to do with the fighting, and more to do with the lives of the characters. Over many seasons, you see this character grow up, make friends, go on dates, have her heart broken, and sometimes even have kids. It makes the serious aspects of the show feel heavier, once you’ve gotten to know this person. 

I love these shows. Sailor Moon is one of the best looking animated television shows ever made. Every frame is a work of art, and every person I know who grew up enjoying it has amazing fashion sense today. 

Taking the already pretty flamboyant, and visually-unorthodox world of Final Fantasy, and turning into a magical girl anime makes a ton of sense, despite it being in the same world as something so drastically different. Tidus, the main character from Final Fantasy X, was already modeled after a real world Japanese pop star from the nineties, and Tetsuya Nomura’s fashion sense might be the most striking aspect of the series. It’s a series dripping in glitzy, futuristic visual design. The influence these games have had on my personal taste in art can’t be understated. 

I would even go as far as to say, watching my cousins play Final Fantasy X-2 is the most critical reason I have any interest in fashion today. Which might be hard to imagine for some, given how incredible gauche some of the outfits can be in this game. But to me, playing these games with other people felt like watching the Met Gala; you bicker with your friends at the sight of every new outfit, whether it’s beautiful or horrendous, and slowly the line dividing the two begins to fade into abstraction. That’s how I felt looking at all the different outfits in Final Fantasy X-2 as a child. I understood why fashion is fun, and realized that girls my age were smarter than I was giving them credit for. 

Like a year later, I went to my friend’s birthday party and met his older cousins who were also into Final Fantasy, and I told them that Final Fantasy X-2 was my favorite game in the series.  They all proceeded to yell at me for ten straight minutes about how awful it was. I didn’t tell them that I had never actually played the game, only looked at it, and decided that it was my favorite thing to look at. I remember very vividly, one of them was wearing smokey eyeliner, and I really liked looking at him too. Something about his eyeliner made me think he’d appreciate X-2 more than he did, and I was disappointed when he complained about the lack of plot, and how it “ruined” his favorite entry in the series. I didn’t tell them that I liked the game because of the outfits because I was too embarrassed to, so instead I told them the battle system was really good, which I had heard was the case, from people who’d actually played it. One nodded and said “yeah, that battle system is pretty freaking good. You ever played  F. F. 2 though?” 

“No.” “2’s got an even better battle system. If you like that kinda stuff you gotta play that game.”

He meant Final Fantasy 4, released in America as Final Fantasy 2. I was a senior in high school when I realized that’s what he meant. When he had told me though, I didn’t want to play either, because those games weren’t three-dimensional, and they didn’t have voice acting, and they didn’t have cute outfits like X-2 did. 

My appreciation for the series wasn’t as “deep” as theirs but the world captured me just the same. That same year, I had played Kingdom Hearts 2, and then Kingdom Hearts 1, and decided Kingdom Hearts 2 was the better game because you got to play as Roxas, who has objectively better hair than Sora. I played on Easy, and never equipped any items or abilities to my character because I didn’t like looking at the menus, and didn’t like reading tutorials. I just wanted to see the world, I didn’t really care about what was really going on in it. It was absolutely impossible, playing it this way. 

I couldn’t relate when the boys at the party were bragging about beating Kingdom Hearts 1 on level 1, or beating Riku first-try, or playing through the Japanese-exclusive Kingdom Hearts 2: Final Mix, because it had a “critical mode” which was harder than the hardest difficulty in the American release of the game. All of this was really strange to me, and I felt really stupid that I couldn’t ever imagine being that good at a videogame. That was also the first moment it occurred to me that calling a game I’ve never played “my favorite game” was sorta fraud-behavior. They lived in these games, and I was a tourist. I realized that most of the people who played, and enjoyed Final Fantasy X enough to both complete it, and buy it’s sequel, are people like them. The game did not cater to these people. They later took me to their computer desk and had me watch five back-to-back episodes of Red vs. Blue on youtube. I couldn’t follow any of what was going on in any episode. 

Eventually, I got around to playing Final Fantasy X-2, and the battle system was as good as everybody told me it would be. It’s too good. It’s sometimes so good, that I forget how shallow the rest of the game is. It’s so good that it makes me hate how little the game focuses on it. 

A simple RPG with a tight battle system, and little story, is fine by me. Dragon Quest games are incredibly straightforward, in the best way possible. The substance of the battles, and the quaintness of the adventure, makes every game incredibly charming. Final Fantasy X-2 unfortunately, tries to add substance where there is none, by forcing the player to complete very boring mini-games after every story advancement. This is the director’s way of constantly reminding the player of the upbeat, and non-serious tone of the game. But instead, these sequences are wastes of time, that feel like distractions, from the empty storyline. They’re also so difficult to watch in 2019.

I don’t need to be distracted though, because I don’t mind a jrpg that isn’t an epic. I just want a game that’s about something. If the gameplay was only traversing the world, and honing the battle system, that would be enough for me. But instead, it becomes clear to me early on that the team didn’t know who to cater to. The primary audience for magical girl anime might be turned off by the blatant objectification of the three main characters, and the primarily male audience of Final Fantasy don’t seem to want an electric popist sitcom to be their non-plot. 

On top of that, the voice acting is a lot worse than I remember, and the Playstation 2 doesn’t really have the hardware to adequately depict X-2’s nautical sci-fi fashion, except in fully CGI cutscenes, which are incredibly rare in this game. And in the few CGI cutscenes that do exist, the directors get to choose what outfits the characters are in, which aren’t the outfits I would ever choose, because they aren’t the Black Mage outfits. The outfits they wear in the box-art are the outfits they wear in every CGI cutscene. Every other outfit is limited to the blocky in-game models. I can’t even find high definition concept art of these outfits. It’s a shame, because some of them are amazing. 

On top of that, I don’t actually get to know these characters well. The character progression, which made X amazing, and made shows like Sailor Moon substantive, isn’t there. For all the bells and whistles they put in the game, nothing actually matters. Yuna is upbeat and cute, Rikku is young and adhd, and Paine is goth. That’s really it, for the whole game. The script is very rarely funny enough to get away with such shallow characters. It loses its charm incredibly quickly. 

That depleting likability is a big issue when the game’s substance comes in its side quests. This game is a nightmare to 100% complete, and since the primary collectibles are the outfits, the game really makes you feel like a loser when you miss anything. The most interesting part of the game is hidden behind the worst parts, and made me realize how privileged I was to have my cousin do all that for me, and let me see the good parts. 

So, I begrudgingly understand, and agree with the criticism, of a game so tailor-made to my specific taste. I wish I could recommend it to people, but I don’t know anybody with the attention span required to make this game worthwhile. What’s especially sad is the fact that, if this game were a lot better, it might have successfully opened the creative gates of Final Fantasy games to their audience. To this day, Americans still seem to think that a jrpg’s quality is defined by the plot alone. There’s so much more going on with the genre, that can be attributed to many different types of experiences, and unfortunately, Final Fantasy X-2 is far from an adequate example of this. 

[egoiistas]

may i feel, said he (18)

first | tag | ao3 | ffn 

[co-written with @tsaritsa]

Can you guys believe May I Feel turned one last week? Its been such a CRAZY YEAR. And we thank you guys who read us for making our hearts brim with fuzzy goodness. Honestly. We wanted to get this out quicker than usual because it was also @colonelhotstuff‘s birthday on the 30th! Happy belated birthday!!

Super special thanks to @b-griveros whose commissioned art is featured in this chapter >:3c hope you guys like it! <3

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive themes  Words: ~12k || Rated: M - Royai

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

soften the parts that we have lost / kiana azizian, infinite

Central City is cool and breezy the following morning despite the bright sunshine beating down, and the air is even cooler in the underground levels of the parking garage. Riza swings in her backpack into the trunk of the rental car with the rest of their belongings. Her eyes feel puffy from the early rise and tired, but she looks forward to sleeping in her own bed - or, rather, a bed that’s familiar to her. They had said their goodbyes upstairs and poor Elicia didn’t want to let go of Roy until she was swayed with good parenting. She even waved a goodbye to Riza in between tears that Gracia assured was her developing melodrama.

“Is that everything?”

“I believe so.” Roy answers after the slam of the trunk door. He gets into the driver’s seat and her into the passenger seat when she sees Maes in the wing mirror flailing an arm and carrying a medium-sized cardboard box with him.

“Roy,” she says abruptly to catch his attention and points to the rear-view mirror.

“What the-” He gets out, leaving the car door open. “I’m sorry, mister. I don’t have any change.”

From where she sits, she can clearly see the Maes’ red face from making the trip and running to find them. He scoffs and shoves the box he carries into Roy’s arms with one swift gesture. “These, forgotten trinkets, are yours.”

Roy digs around the box and raises his eyebrows, recognition cresting over his face and impressed with seeing his old things. “Where’d you dig these up?”

“We started,” he wheezes, needing a moment. “Shut up, your shit is heavy. We started clearing out the extra study room and we found these buried away.”

Roy’s tone is teasing. “Clearing out the study? Hopefully to make way for a gym. Or at least a treadmill, buddy. Cardio goes a long way.”

“No.” Maes glares at him and straightens up from bending over his knees.  He pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Nothing’s set in stone yet. Elicia’s barely turned three, but we’re trying.”

Roy opens the car door behind his and the box is hastily shoved into the seat. The contents shift and the poorly closed box shows her a bunch of papers. Journals, she suspects. When she looks up, Roy is patting his best friend encouragingly. “That’s really good news,” he says; the pride suffuses through his tone. She can’t see it but she can hear the smile on his face. “And know that the offer still stands, should anything happen.”

Maes gives him a humbled smile in return. “I appreciate that. I think this time we’ll be better prepared; no, we are better prepared. Knowing is half the battle. But don’t let me hold you up. I’ll keep you updated.”

Riza smiles as they hug goodbye, again.

“Stay safe,” Maes tells him, before ducking his head into the car and winking at her. “Be good, Riza.”

She waves back. “No promises there.” She moves to figure out where the AUX port is on the radio when she hears Maes speak again.

“She called. Last night.” His tone is quieter. It doesn’t resound off the concrete like it was a minute ago but the open car door lets the sound flow in regardless. “Just wanted to give you the heads up in case of, well, anything.”

Roy sighs. “I’m sure she has. I’ve made myself as clear as I can.”

“I know you have. Just be careful, mate.”

The silence stretches on, almost to the point of uncomfortable. “I’ll do my best.”

The door shuts swiftly as he gets in. Maes knocks the metal frame of the car as they drive off, arm raised in a final farewell.

“What was that about?”

Roy has this dazed look on his face, unfaltering even as they reach the blinding rays of the morning sun as they exit the garage. It takes him a moment to ground himself. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that…” As he says it, he almost looks like a kid himself. “They’re trying for another kid.”

She thinks he looks adorable. “Oh! That’s nice. You must be so ecstatic to be a godfather again.”

He shrugs, trying to downplay the smitten smile on his face. “I just think it’s exciting for them. There were difficulties following Elicia’s birth and it’s admirable that she’s willing to go through that again, knowing the risk.”

Riza holds her tongue on the thoughts of adoption and foster care, reminding herself a single couple do not have the power to change the entire system. “Yes, it sounds very brave,” she replies. “And I think Elicia will be happy to have a little brother or sister.”

“I think so too. But, how are you? You sound a little down.”

Riza looks at him warily and deflects just as quickly. “I think I’m still tired, I don’t think my night was very restful.” In anticipation to his response, she amends, “And please don’t say that it was because of your “hot lovin” that kept me up.”

He snorts and laughter laces his words. “I wouldn’t have used that exact phrase, but you caught me. Why don’t you nap? We’re ways away from home yet.”

“I think I will.” She leans the seat back, getting herself comfortable. “And I know how you operate...sir.”

She wakes up and there are pastures passing them by. Cow, windmills and craggy hills in every direction. The Eastern provinces might be simpler than their neighbours, but there’s a simple kind of beautiful that exists here and Riza wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Good morning.”

Riza inhales deeply. “How long was I out?”

Roy hums. “I’d say hour-and-a-half, two hours tops.”

She blinks, trying to rid herself of the sleep in her eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re about to cross into the Eastern section. Moomoo cows as far as the eye can see for another hour or so.”

Riza raises an eyebrow. “Moomoo cows?”

“Do you...not… call them that? How do you know what kind of noise they make if you don’t preface it with that?”

She snickers as she peers out the car window. “I think your nickname for them is very valid, Professor. Does your colleague Elicia call them that too?”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Riza’s face scrunches up when the topic of Aerugo suddenly crosses her mind. She figures now would be a good a time as any. “So… Aerugo.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spies him perking up in his seat. “Yes?”

“Are they getting married again? What’s the whole deal with that?”

“Yes, that’s basically what constitutes as a vow renewal.”

“But I thought vow renewals were something you did when you’ve been married for decades. Not after a few years.”

Roy snorts. “You underestimate what excuses people will give to justify a pachanga. Er, fiesta, party.”

“Wait, what was that first word you used?”

“Pachanga. Fiesta just doesn’t have the right emotion behind it. Anyway, parties like the ones for children’s birthday, like Elicia’s, aren’t rare. The same people would be at another relative’s kids’ communion, baptism, kindergarten graduation and nobody is going to want to be the person tearing down a declaration of love. It’s quite ingenious, really.”

“Sounds like you guys just like to...pachanga?”

“Yes, in some instances it can be used as a verb.”

“So, it’s just the ceremony?”

Roy’s head tilts side to side, considering the question. “No. Well, kind of. It’s a long weekend on an island, getting together with a group of close friends. The amount of people there won’t be as many as they had at Elicia’s birthday party. Obviously not everyone can drop what they’re doing at the drop of a hat to spend a week on vacation but most are gonna try for a few days at least.”

“Will you?”

“I’d like to. The last time I visited Aerugo was for their wedding. I doubt a lot has changed but it’s a beautiful place. The colors are vibrant there and pictures cannot do it justice. From what I remember, at least.” He smirks at some memory. “There was a lot of wine involved last time.”

Riza hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like it will be a good time.”

His eyes slide to hers. “It should be. Even more so if you accompany me.”

She can’t help it - the incredulous laughter leaves her before she has a chance to consider how that could sound. “Right. I’ll just find the spare two-hundred thousands cenz lying around, shall I?”

He does a good job of keeping his face neutral, but Riza knows a hurt tone when she hears it. “I’m only heartless when it comes to grading, Riza. You would be my plus one.”

“No, that’s - that’s too much money. I couldn’t let you waste- spend that kind of money on me.”

Roy lets out a frustrated sigh that pushes the hair out of his eyes. “This isn’t about me trying to shame you because I have disposable income and you don’t - I want you to come with me. I don’t like that I can’t just take you out for a nice dinner whenever I like, or even go catch a movie with you. Y’know - the things that every other couple gets to do without fear. But then opportunities like these come up, and it’s like some big neon sign telling me that here’s the chance you’ve been waiting for, take it. And even if we could go out on dates like normal people I’d still want you to come with me anyway.”

His impassioned response gives her pause. It’s resolute, adamant, but there’s something that burrows at her, disallowing her to be swayed. It takes her a moment to find her response.

“Is it really about the money?”

“Yes! And… no,” she admits ruefully.

“Gracia mentioned Aubrey.”

Riza nods slowly, letting him fill in that space and going with that flow. “It was quite the ambush, for lack of a better word. And I wasn’t about to monopolize your time simply because I felt uncomfortable amongst people I didn’t know. As tempting as it was to do.”

“I know it can feel intimidating and people were just interested because I’ve lost contact with a lot of them. You were a symbol as much as an explanation as to why that was.”

It pains her to admit that he has a solid argument. “Surely there was more talk than that.”

“Quite possibly. I wasn’t interested in hearing it.”

She falls silent.

“Shall I paint you a picture?”

She turns her head to look back at him. “Of what?”

“Aerugo. What you’ll be missing out on.”

“What could I possibly be missing that I can’t find in East City?”

He doesn’t vocalise it, but she knows he's thinking then let me take you. “The ocean, for starters. The miles and miles of vineyards. It’s an island, actually - off the coast. The place is dotted with old churches tucked away. The food is to die for, and the views even more so.” His voice takes on a reminiscing lilt, the corners of his lips turning up in memory. “We’d hire out one of the old villas overlooking the bay. Freshly pressed coffee and fruits for breakfast. Go sailing in the morning and drink ourselves silly in the afternoon.”

“You can sail?”

“I’d teach you - you’d be a natural at it, I’d wager.”

Riza bites her lip. “I don’t even have a passport.”

“Then we’ll figure that out once we get back home.” His free hand reaches for hers and she takes it. “I mean it when I say I’ll pay for what you need.”

He makes it sound so simple.

She starts slow, trying to sort out the muddled threads in her head into an articulation that is cohesive. “I know classes won’t take much of my time now that the semester is over…”

He nods once and slow as he elongates the i in “Right”.

She purses her lips and twists her fingers together tightly. How does she explain what waits for her at a psychiatric facility? “But I don’t think it would responsible of me to simply drop everything and not expect there to be consequences waiting at the end.”

“Consequences like?”

“I do have prior commitments that I can’t just rearrange just like that.” She waves her hand, out of his grip, for emphasis.

“Which commitments?”

Maybe she’s imagining it, maybe she’s wanting to imagine it, but Roy’s tone cuts through harshly. She can’t understand his line of questioning - why he needs to question her at all in the first place.

“I’m not outright saying no, Roy, but I can’t just give you an answer and then let the chips fall where they may.”

“I agree and I’m not saying you should. Just,” He adjusts his tone. “I’m only curious about these arrangements you have. It’s caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

She looks out the window. “Just because I spend a lot of my time with you, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life outside of you.”

From the corner of her eye she can see his jaw drop. “Riza, that’s not, that’s not what I- why are you being so cagey about this?”

“Cagey how?” She bites her tongue, feeling the guilty pleasure of her pettiness.

Frustration seeps into his voice. “Dancing around answers, being particularly defensive about this. Like you’re hiding something.”

“You’re one to talk.” Riza hears the creak of leather from the steering wheel as its gripped harder in his hands. She wets her lips and sighs, because he has a point. This is something so hurtful that she’s bore alone in the past. She doesn’t want anyone to use it against her; as if her father’s failings or his state of mind reflects directly on her. “I can’t just drop plans to see my father. Not…not when they take weeks to plan out. You’ve known about this for a while, so when were you going to ask me?”

Roy frowns. “I wanted to wait until your grades were released. If this ever comes back to bite us I didn’t want there to be any insinuations from anybody that I used an overseas holiday as a means to tempt you or buy your silence.”

“Then tell me what the game plan is, Roy. I should know.”

He clears his throat. “If, at the bottom of all this, this is something you want to do, to come with me, then I’ll help you get it handled.”

“How do you mean?”

He words it carefully. “If your worries are missing an opportunity to visit your father and if it’s within the scope of things you want to do, then perhaps you could reschedule? Maybe see him sooner then, before we leave, than push it out until after the fact.”

She falls silent again, not having considered the option. The visits were usually so static, so concrete in her schedule that changing the dates seemed inconceivable. Anxiety and trepidation clouded her whenever thoughts about visits came up. There were so many variable to consider and this sporadic invitation was creating uncomfortable waves.

“I won’t badger you about it again, but I will ask about it later this week, just so I know where you are in your headspace. Does that sound fair?”

She nods and concedes for now. “I’ll give them a call.”

The rest of the car ride is quiet until the pastures turn into housing developments and suburbs. It’s just past noon when they finally reach his place, and Riza is utterly grateful. The nap, while nice, had given her an awkward crick in her back and it isn’t until she extends her body out fully that she can feel the tense muscles relaxing. They had picked up some Xingese takeaway once they had reached the city limits, and she is more than ready to demolish some quality fried rice.

Roy has barely opened the front door when his phone lights up and it’s kind of hilarious how quickly his face loses colour. “Oh, fuck.”

“Who is it?”

He shakes his head, swiping to answer. “Madre,” he says distractedly, and then amends, “My mother” as if he meant to say it in Amestrian all along.

He walks away further into the apartment and the sounds of a very sharp voice starts talking in a volume she can hear from where she’s standing. The caller is chastising him, judging by the way he pulls the phone away from his ear. Riza figures he’ll be distracted for a while, and motions for the car keys, which he hands her absentmindedly, jabbering away in Spanish.

She leaves the takeaway on the kitchen island, sneaking one of the spring rolls as she drops back down to the carport to pick up the rest of their luggage. It’s a tight squeeze, but she manages to do it in one trip, Roy trying to stifle a laugh as she waddles down the hallway, her fingers protesting as the leather straps of his bags cut deep into her skin.

The dismount is inelegant in the bedroom. She sets down the worn cardboard box atop the bed and then drops the bags next to it without considering how close it is to the edge. The box topples off the bed and spills papers, envelopes, and folders as if it was trying to reach the sunset washed window in one final, desperate bid for daylight.

Riza kneels to the floor to gather it together and stuff them back inside the box until she gets a better look at what she’s handling. Her curiosity piques when she sees a well worn front cover of a PhD thesis with his name on it, gold embossing worn down after years in storage. Looking closer, she sees receipts and old bills mixed in with scholarly journals, dog-eared and faded.

It’s a box of things he left behind.

One of the envelopes tears from seams that has met its limits. Paper of thicker stock spill over her lap, colorful and glossy as it cascades out before she can catch it. Then she recognizes the faces. Military uniform, graduation, candids featuring a younger Maes and Roy, another with youthful optimism, and a sleeping Roy with a scraggly, marker-drawn mustache and Maes grinning at the camera with the marker in question. It’s a handful of them, but there’s a signal going off in her head, telling her this only features people she already knows. Sure, there are pictures of pictures with buddies. It’s strange that she can’t see any that feature his mother or his sisters, she thinks as she reaches for the broken envelope. Or even -

There’s a photo that remained inside, folded in half. “for when u miss me xoxo” it reads on the back in handwriting that is somewhere between half-cursive and half-print. The imprint of a red lipstick kiss is perfectly preserved right below it.

She weighs the decision of looking at this photo in her head for a full minute and her index finger slides in between the folded sides for another. The note left behind clearly implies something suggestive, but she’d get a face to this enigma she’s been placing in the back burner for months. The other photos are returned to the box, and Riza leans back, fully resting her weight on her legs, deliberating.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she flips the photo open. She breathes out in relief when it’s not a full nude or anything sexually explicit and private. However, Riza studies the photo and acknowledges she has come across something still incredibly intimate.

The photo is casual in nature. A capture of a singular moment in time with two people in their early twenties, set in a tropical backdrop. Roy in his younger years is only discernible by the short cut of his hair. He holds a cigarette and has a smile across his face, eyes bright and youthful like all the others. He’s wearing his standard button up shirt in pink shade that looks exceptionally and surprisingly stunning on him, popping out more than anything else in the photo. And it’s also the first of any photo where he’s pictured holding a cigarette between two of his fingers. His hand is tucked into his front jean pocket. He looks carefree, confident with a cocky smile on his face. Completely unperturbed by the arms wrapped around him.

The woman standing behind him is shorter than him in stature. Half her face hides behind Roy’s shoulder, but just over the crest reveals her brown smiling eyes.  She bears a glowing café au lait complexion with brown curls short and soft enough that would make Rebecca envious. Her arms coil over his tailor-fitted shirt and she’s tucked a hand into the unbuttoned portion over his sternum and slipped it well into his shirt, undoubtedly to feel the well-defined muscle under the fabric. Her other arm is wrapped around his waist. If Riza were to guess, she imagines the image was only supposed to be a shot of Roy until she slipped into the picture and under his shirt.

For months, this woman has been an enigma with only a nickname. It’s one thing to hear stories, to be given little fragments and try to piece together an entire person. Only a nickname and now, a name and half a face. Greta, Riza surmises, stares at her, speaks to her and anyone else who would look at it with body language to corroborate the message she’s sending. It strangely transcends the time from when the picture was originally taken.

She is saying, he is mine.

It’s a sick fascination for her, studying the way Greta’s arm snakes across his chest, catches on the open fabric of his shirt. Logically, Riza knows she’s getting upset over something… not insignificant, certainly, but firmly in the past, and delving further into this Pandora’s box will not make her feel any better.

All her contemplating eats up her time as his footsteps sound in the hallway and in a panic, she stuffs the picture into her back pocket. The lid of the box is hastily folded back over and she pushes it to the side of his dresser, half obscured by the shadow cast from laundry hamper.

He appears in the doorway just as she shrugs on a sweater. “Hey,” he starts, awkwardly hovering. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier in the car. That was dickish of me.”

Riza nods. “You’re okay. I was dickish too.”

Roy’s smile is small, but genuine, and he holds his phone up. “What did you want to do for dinner?”

Riza shakes her head. “I think I’ll go back to the flat after I eat. ‘Becca wanted to give me my present.”

His smile falters for a moment, clearly disappointed, but he nods. “Let me know when you want to go. I’ll drop off the rental at the same time and enter in final grades.”

The trip to her flat is subdued. Roy kisses her forehead in the goodbye, and Riza feels the photograph burn a hole in her back pocket.

When Riza opens the door, the sweet aroma of hot chocolate wafts through the air of her apartment. Rebecca is sitting on the couch, nursing a steaming mug, and is so heavily engrossed in her cellphone she doesn’t hear Riza come in. Her footsteps are light as she approaches. She’s almost succeeds until her friend realises and jerks in surprise.

“Shit, Ri-” Rebecca’s fingers slip against the mug, but manages to get a grip and sets it down quickly. She curls her body to face Riza properly. “You could have killed me,” Rebecca admonishes, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. “Is that what you want, a dead best friend?”

Riza grins broadly, feeling a sudden gratitude for her antics, and she leans down to hug her. Rebecca’s hair is still faintly damp, curls not quite suffocating her like they usually do, and fragrant. “Sorry,” she mumbles, releasing her after a moment. “I did text.”

“Did you? I got up like twenty minutes ago,” Rebecca explains after letting Riza go. “My day so far has consisted of me standing in the shower for ten minutes and another five remembering I needed to turn the kettle on if I wanted to have coffee.”

Riza checks her phone; it was quarter past four in the afternoon. “Don’t forget zoning out so hard an intruder could just walk in. Rough night studying?”

Rebecca shrugs and slides over to make room for Riza on the couch. “You could say that.” She says this with a strange quality to her voice, like the question is inherently funny.

Riza deposits her duffle bag on the sturdy coffee table they nabbed from a yard sale, mindful of the still-steaming mug, and sits on the couch. “Was your last exam today?”

“Yesterday,” she answers quickly.

Riza scrunches her brow. “Yesterday was Sunday.”

She stammers, wrinkling her face to remember, “I meant this morning. I went back to bed after it. Cut me some slack, I’ve only just woken up.”

“Here I thought this was you regularly.” Riza ignores the cutting look from her friend. “Did you have to take a lot of them this semester?”

“Yep,” she says with a slight pop to the end of her reply. “Not matter how easy exams are, it’s always such a relief when they’re completely over." Rebecca gets an equally strange smile on her face. “The exams went fine. I wasn’t too worried about them. Me and Alyssa and Emma - you’ve met them before, Hayden’s twenty-first - we decided to go hit the town last night to celebrate.”

“The night before an exam?” Riza questions as she grabs the mug of hot chocolate, refusing to leave it unattended any longer.

“I was drinking that,” Rebecca frowns and Riza evades a swipe from her mid-sip. “And yes, Mother Hawkeye. I think only the med students have anything left now, rest of the campus is in a constant state of partying.”

Riza moves the cup out of Rebecca’s hands as she reaches for it. “But I thought you swore off partying for exam week. You haven’t done it since-”

“Since that first semester as freshman, I know. But it was a special occasion.” She presses down at her eyes and rubs them. “I could sleep for another week.”

Riza hands the mug back to its original owner. She sighs, relating to her friend’s sentiment. “You and me both.”

“Mm!” Rebecca protests with hot liquid still in her mouth. “And excuse you, you were off enjoying Central!” She swats playfully at Riza’s knee. “Less about me, more about you. How did it go? I was actually dying to message you but I figured I had better let you have your fun.”

Riza lets the topic shift. Whatever Rebecca had going on would come out in due course. Besides, her tongue pokes through her teeth as she reminisces. “It was a good time,” she begins, unzipping her ankle boots to kick them off. Her arm mirrors Rebecca’s as she pushes against the back of the couch, tucking her legs under her. “Had a bit of a crash course in birthday parties.”

“There was a birthday party for you?”

Riza laughs. “Hell no. I think Roy might’ve tried that if he had more time - no, I texted you this, didn’t I? We stayed with some friends of his, their daughter had just turned three. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that much screaming before.”

“And… ?”

“And what?”

Rebecca gives her an exasperated look. “You wouldn’t be looking so smug with yourself over a kids birthday party, novelty or not. I know that expression.” She sighs deeply. “Can’t believe I got kicked out off the ‘best present-giver’ throne after seven years.”

“And what expression is that ‘Becca?” It’s difficult to keep her face neutral while remembering the very vivid events of last night.

“That is the face you get when you’ve been fucked silly. I hope he put in a bit more effort than just whipping his dick out.”

“He did,” Riza answers, well aware of the blush staining her cheeks. “Bought me an outfit, bought me dinner, apparently visited like three bookshops to find my present… it was literally perfect.”

Rebecca makes a grabbing motion with her hand. “You took pics right?”

Riza whips out her phone and starts searching for the location of the photos. “He apparently took some candids while I wasn’t looking.”

“Oh shit I would have been maaaad.” She shakes her head.

“I would have too, but they’re actually not that bad.” She hands her the phone.

“Holy fuck.” Rebecca whistles low, and fans herself dramatically as she inspects the photos closely. “I’m definitely gonna borrow this. Your man has taste. You know I recognize this collection, right? Olivier would have a meltdown if she saw you all dolled up in that.” A sly grin grows on her face. “Please tell me you’re gonna post this up. She deserves to be put in her place. She’s not the only one who can pull off current-season Pronovias.”

“The last thing I need is people sticking their noses into business where they don’t belong.” Riza shakes her head, swiping her phone back. “Not that I’m any better.”

“Semester’s over now! Are you worried about her coming back to strike?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Rebecca tilts her head to the side.

The hastily-stuffed photograph in her back pocket comes to the forefront of her mind’s eye, and Riza wonders whether her best friend can offer an unbiased view. She’s not used to this; a jealousy for a person that’s entirely in the picture. Both figuratively and literally. Especially the kind so fixated on one person, rather than a situation as a whole. She can’t tell if it’s merely nerves at the fact that she will probably have to meet this woman in the flesh at some point, or if it has unearthed a deep-seated insecurity. “Now that the semester is over, he’s invited me to go on a trip with him.”

“Go where? Judging by your tone, you’re making me thinking he’s invited you to a funeral.”

“Roy’s friends…” she begins, trying to think of the simplest way to explain this, “for reference, they’re loaded. Our flat could probably fit in their living room and kitchen alone. Probably as rich as Olivier, to be honest. They’re just a lot nicer about it.”

Rebecca taps over her mouth as she says, “Go on”

“Roy’s friend, Maes - I don’t think I’ve ever met a more devoted father. Family is everything to him… and he likes making grand gestures. They’re throwing this big party for their wedding anniversary and Roy wants me to go with him.”

“And you think you don’t want to go? Why?”

“It’s in Aerugo.”

Rebecca chokes. “Oh fuck!” she manages, furiously wiping away what spilled onto her chest. The mug is placed back down on the table, and Riza passes over some takeout napkins. “Where in Aerugo?” Rebecca asks after a few frantic moments of trying to save her top.

Riza scratches an itch on her brow. “He said they own the island or something? I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s called San Clavel or something.”

“Oh, Riza.” She says with a wagging finger. “You’re going on that trip. That’s final. Like, he’s paying for you, right?”

“He’s offered, but I mean-”

“But what? You know that in Aerugo absolutely nobody is gonna recognise you. You two could commit bloody murder there and all of us back home would be none-the-wiser.”

“I don’t know about that. The problem is that I’d need to reschedule with my father.” Riza knows she’s using this excuse, but she needs time to prepare for these kinds of visits, just as much as the facility that cares for him needs time to prepare him for her.

As painful as it was with every visit, Riza couldn’t cut him out of her life. The father she loved as a little girl might be nothing more than a husk now, but sometimes she’d catch glimpses of the person he used to be.

Rebecca hums sympathetically. “That’s rough. I’m sure if you call them up and explain they might be able to rearrange his schedule a little, right?”

“I suppose.” Riza doesn’t mean to sound as churlish as she does, but Rebecca merely links their fingers together and squeezes comfortingly.

“I think you should. Do you want me to go with you? Maybe if I annoy him enough he’ll snap at me just like the old times.”

That effervescent, irreverent humour is what she needs right now, though Riza might be loath to admit it. Rebecca’s grin is genuine as much as it is teasing.

“No, no,” she tells her, slumping to rest against her: Rebecca’s arm curls around her and draws meandering patterns through her sweater with manicured nails. “It’ll be easier if it’s just me. You should be celebrating your freedom.”

Rebecca hums in a non committal sort of way, and reaches for an thick envelope on the coffee table and passes it to her - to dearest, darlingest Riza is emblazoned on the front in Rebecca’s familiar loopy script. “Happy birthday, Ri,” she tells her. “I thought it’d be better if I let you choose rather than me getting you something you didn’t like.”

She thumbs open the envelope, prying away the glue with care. A gourmet chocolate bar - the kind that Riza knew she’d never bother to buy herself because the price was absurd, and a gift card for the university bookstore. “Thank you ‘Becca. Ten thousand cenz though? You spoil me.”

Rebecca laughs. “Considering the last book I had to buy for my economics class cost me twelve thousand, I’d be surprised if this even gets you an entire book at all. Maybe I should’ve invested in a bookcase for you instead. Not that it was ever gonna compare to lover boy though. I can’t believe he wants to whisk you off to Aerugo.”

She keeps quiet, until Rebecca pinches her.

“Ow! The hell ‘Becca!?” Riza sits up clumsily, rubbing at the reddened skin of her neck.

“I get being antsy about your dad. Really, I do. What I don’t get it why you seem so mopey about it - location notwithstanding, don’t you want to spend more time with him?”

“No - I do-”

“Because this isn’t the kind of reaction any guy would want to get. Hell, if you’re so on the fence, I’ll just don a blonde wig and go in your place. He wouldn’t notice, right?”

Riza snorts. “I think he might. I still don’t think he’s over the little stunt you pulled-”

Rebecca jabs an accusing finger in her face. “There! It is about him! You’re telling me you just had a spectacular birthday with the guy but don’t know about a trip away?”

Riza bites the bullet, and fishes out the hastily-folded photograph out and passes it to Rebecca. She frowns as she accepts it, the corners of her full lips pursing. “What’s this?”

“His ex. His best friend had some old boxes of his. This was in them.”

The eyebrows of her friend almost disappear into her hair. “And you went snooping?”

Riza groans. “I didn’t mean to! I knocked it over by accident and it all just fell out.”

“But… you took this. I assume he doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t.” Her voice is small, and Riza tucks her knees under her chin. “Logically I know I shouldn’t care but…”

“But what? Should you be concerned?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. She just always seems to be popping up even though they’ve been broken up for two years.”

“Talk me through it. You might be too close to the situation - and don’t make that face at me Riza - you can’t not be biased against her. You nicked a photo for crying out loud.”

“Okay, okay.” Riza holds up her hands in acquiescence. It stung having Rebecca - sometimes flighty, occasionally impulsive Rebecca - be more grounded than she clearly was at the moment.

“Roy told me that they’d dated for… seven years. They were engaged too, at one point. Apparently they broke up because he wanted kids and she didn’t.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect that either. I don’t think it was the only reason they broke up, but it seemed like the biggest one. What makes it more complicated is that she’s kind of… related to Gracia, his best friend’s wife. But Maes, the best friend, Gracia’s husband  - I get the impression he doesn’t like her. Like, at all. Apparently he was the one who gave her the nickname Axe-”

“Wait, wait wait - the Axe you were telling me about who was drunk texting him?”

Riza nods.

“Disparaging nickname or not… a guy who keeps an ex in his phone like that-” Rebecca sighs deeply, and rolls her shoulders back. “That’s generally not a good sign Riza.”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen the texts - it’s just late night drunkenness.”

“So why doesn’t he just block her number?” Rebecca takes a long sip of her hot chocolate. “Any way you look at it is pretty damning in my opinion. An ex who won’t stop clinging to a relationship that he ended?”

She hates to admit Rebecca has a point.

“Not all affairs are physical, Riza,” her friend warns. “Emotional cheating is very much a thing. And considering you guys weren’t… a couple from the beginning, it’s not a great foundation to build from. A random hookup? I wouldn’t give a shit. An ex? That’s far murkier territory.”

It would be foolish not to admit that the circumstances aren’t great, but neither were the ones their relationship originated from. Maybe she’s refusing to see the forest for the trees, but Riza finds it difficult to think Roy capable of managing two significant secrets in his personal life not interfering by this point. “Sure, but that wouldn’t explain why he had no qualms about introducing me to all his former colleagues at the party. I got the impression that Greta runs - or did run, at least - in similar circles to his. It wouldn’t make sense to even want to bring me to Central if that was the case. If she didn’t know back then, I bet anything that she knows by now.”

Rebecca’s face scrunches up, considering. “I guess,” she says slowly, “...and I guess none of your relationship is really typical either. Nobody made any comments about it?”

“About us?” Riza throws her mind back to the party, and the people she talked to. Most didn’t seem overly interested in her - not to her face, certainly, but she wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t murmurs about the person Roy brought with him. “Most of the interest stemmed from the fact that Roy had lost contact with a lot of them and so they wanted to know how he was getting on. Gracia was the only one to actually bring up Greta in any serious capacity… and she’s her cousin or something so maybe she’d heard a different story of how things went down.

“It’s weird though; Maes genuinely dislikes her, from what I gathered. But the way Gracia talked made it sound like she was still in contact with her? I don’t know.” Riza buries her head in her hands. The more she thinks about it, the more she becomes confused.

“Okay, okay.” Rebecca sets down her empty mug, and pries Riza’s hands away from her head. “In simple terms, you’re jealous of a woman who still has some connections in Roy’s life. Whether those are through his own actions or not I can’t definitively say. What I can say, is that he’s invited you to go to Aerugo with him, for - what did you say, a wedding anniversary?”

“Vow renewal.”

“Okay, so at the very least he wants to spend more time with you, yeah? And it might be a case of him trying to kill two birds with one stone, but I don’t think you should write off the fact that he’s actively trying to involve you into the other parts of his life as best he can.” Rebecca flips the photo over, and makes a disgusted face at the note she finds. “For when you miss me? Is she anticipating that he’ll go back to her? Bleurgh. Clearly he hasn’t, if it was stuffed in a box that he forgot about.”

Riza rings the psychiatric facility the next morning, and speaks briefly to the doctor in charge of her father’s care. The doctor couldn’t make any promises that she could fit in a visit earlier than what they had decided on months beforehand, but she promised to at least try. It was all Riza could really ask for.

It isn't until Saturday morning when she finally gets a returning call, the familiar number of the facility emblazoned on her lockscreen.

“Doctor Cassidy,” Riza answers after a moment. “How are you?” She desperately wants to know whether her request has been accepted, but she can’t bring herself to be completely dismissive of the woman who has ensured the care of her father has been successful. A call on a Saturday, however, is unusual: Riza feels her gut sinking despite her best hopes. It was a lot to ask, in hindsight.

Evelyn Cassidy has been a constant point in Riza’s life since the accident, and her familiar, husky voice brings with it a rush of comfort and reassurance that Riza finds herself in surprising want of. “Can’t say it’s been a great week, Riza - your father certainly gave me a run for my money,” she barks a laugh, “But I was able to wrangle your visit nonetheless. He might not be very happy about it, but he has agreed to see you. Might I know why you’ve changed the date?”

The relief is palpable: Riza feels a line of tension aligning tightly against her spine dissipate into nothing. “I’ve been invited on a trip that was going to conflict with the visit next month. You know I’ve never missed an appointment, and… I don’t know, this seemed like a better compromise than cancelling.”

Doctor Cassidy hums down the phone line. “I’m glad you did call. It’s good for Berthold to have some change in his routine, especially when the result is still overwhelmingly positive. It’s good for you too, you know.”

Riza doesn’t know. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a good kid Riza, the epitome of a devoted daughter. I’m just saying that it’s good that you are putting your own life and commitments first as well. You might have a duty to your father, but he has one to you just as much.” Riza hears the shuffling of paper down the line. “I’ve arranged for you to come in at two-thirty this afternoon. Does that work for you? I know this is last minute, otherwise we can arrange for the following Saturday. He’s just in a relatively stable mood as far as I could tell this morning, and your request seemed urgent.”

Riza leans back in her chair, craning at her makeshift paper calendar pinned to the bottom of her mirror on instinct. It stares back at her blankly: quite literally so. She’s not used to her schedule being so lenient. “Yes, I can make that. Thank you, Doctor.”

“Good! Good. Unfortunately I won’t be here this afternoon, but the nurses know you’re coming. I don't think anybody else has got visits scheduled, so you should have the visiting space to yourself. He’ll appreciate that, I’m sure. I’ll leave you to it then, Riza - the nurses will let me know how it goes.”

Riza utters a quick goodbye, and then stares at the picture on her lockscreen - a view from the guest bedroom, Central gleaming in the afternoon sun like a well-polished gemstone. Their little… spat, she supposes, had left a lingering sour taste that she hadn’t felt able to wash away completely yet. It wasn’t like they weren’t talking to one another, but to Riza at least, she felt like there was a feeling of awkwardness that still clung to her.

However, that wasn’t going to stop her seeking him out in spite of that. Her thumbs drift over the touchscreen, and she navigates to his number. If she was going to visit her father this afternoon, she wanted to be in a good mood when she did - one of them needed to be, apparently.

It rings a few times before he picks up. “What’s up?” Roy asks, after a moment.

“Nothing much, I - where are you?” There’s… music in the background, if she had to hazard a guess, though it’s a stretch.

He laughs, the pleasant, deep kind that travels from the speaker and straight into her bones. “I’m at the gym right now. Did you need something, or is this just for pleasure?”

Riza snickers, shaking her head in bemusement. “The latter, actually. I just wondered if you wanted to have lunch. I’ve got to bug out this afternoon, that’s all.” She had planned on doing some more work for him - Roy had given her his login key and she was going to spend all afternoon down in the bowels of the library, photocopying and printing off an absurd amount of chemical literature, but that could wait until tomorrow morning instead.

“Yeah? I could manage that. Do you want me to pick something up?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. Whatever you feel like, I’m not too hungry.”

“Okay, I shouldn’t be too much longer,” he answers her after a slight pause. “Just let yourself in if I don’t beat you back home.”

Roy is in the kitchen freshly showered when he hears his front door open, debating whether another cup of coffee is a good idea when it’s only lunchtime. A large part of his morning had been spent pouring over the notes Elric had ever-so-helpfully scrawled in the margins of his new paper on organic compounds. The guy might be a real pain in the ass to work with - even distantly - but Roy couldn’t deny that his critiques didn’t have merit. The other part had been spent at the gym, which was the healthier way to work off some steam instead of lighting up.

He wouldn’t consider himself a chain smoker, more social than anything, but he’s struggling to remember the last time he had actually smoked. He had come across a half-used pack of Parliament's while searching for some shorts, and the thought had given him pause. Maes had always been banging on to him about quitting - he had to help be a role model to Elicia, after all - but it was hard to give up after all these years… slight nicotine addiction notwithstanding.

Perhaps it was foolish to be looking for meaning where there might not be any, but Roy was sure that she had something to do with it. She had never made any opinions known about this habit, but there always was a lingering feeling of guilt regardless.

He’s pleasantly surprised when he feels her arms slip around his torso, pressing her head against the expanse of her back. “Hello,” he greets her lightly, reaching for the cupboard with the mugs. “Can I interest you in some coffee?”

He feels her shake her head slightly, feels the heavy exhale she lets go that heaves her shoulders up and down. “No, thank you.”

Roy is quiet as he sets up the machine, only turning in her arms once his espresso is done. His fingers hover over her fringe, delicately pushing it out of her eyes. “Que tienes?” The food he had picked up from the bistro lies forgotten next to the stove, still steaming through the paper bag. This is more important right now - and, he realises, could account for her funky mood earlier this week.

“I’m okay,” she tells him, though he doubts that is accurate. “The clinic finally called back yesterday and said this afternoon would be the best time to visit Father. Apparently he hasn’t been doing so well recently.”

His arms wrap around her firmly and he presses his lips to her hair. “I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps your visit will be a good influence.” The information she’s given freely about her father is scant, but Roy knows that this is quite possibly the only topic that she’ll never truly feel comfortable talking about, no matter how many years pass. He empathises with her deeply - while now he’s come to terms with the ways in which he was treated in foster care, he had the privilege of coming out the other side with not only his blood family, but all of his adopted siblings too. He has had years to build up relationships again, to learn how to trust freely once more.

Riza is not so lucky in that regard. He sees a lot of himself in her behaviour, in how she processes these things. Grief, and the process of grieving, is not as clear-cut and linear as people posit: and for hurts that go as deeply as theirs do… it’s never easy.

Riza makes a strange little snort, and sighs deeply once more. “I don’t think that’ll ever happen,” she says, her voice muffled a little by the way she rests her head against his chest. “It’s always the same with him… silence, and maybe a nod if he’s feeling up to it. Some days I wonder why I even bother.”

She sounds so jaded, and it cuts deeply that there isn’t really anything he can do to help her. Unless -

The epiphany dawns over him slowly. “Would... would you like me to go with you?”

Riza blinks and pulls back to look at him properly. “What?”

“You said so yourself - these visits aren’t nice for you. They’re stressful - and I see that Riza, hell, I experienced it firsthand.” He feels his lips quirk upwards at the memory. “I know they’re important for you, but I don’t want you feeling like you’re having to… I don’t know, get them over with? In order to come to Aerugo with me. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you’ve gone about this the wrong way.”

Riza takes a step back, arms unconsciously curling around herself. “Why would you come?”

“Moral, emotional support. Unless you don’t want me there.” He keeps his tone light, like they are discussing the weather, not an incredibly private part of her life. He knows she can’t have a fuss made of this, or she’ll clam up. This behaviour alone - it’s worrying. There is a difference between debelibrately prying and poking at issues that should be left well alone, and then there’s purposeful pushing away.

She told him mere months ago that it was just easier to keep people at arms length than admit any kind of sentiment, that she had learned long ago from the actions of others that her feelings were inconsequential in the bigger picture. It runs deep in her, and Roy thinks his heart might break at the walls she’s rapidly putting up, even to him.

“I don’t-” she stops, frowning. “No, I-” she exhales harshly, and presses her lips together firmly. “These visits… they’re not nice, Roy. Really. I wouldn’t wish them on anyone.”

“And I don’t want them wished on you.” He steps towards her, fingers sliding under her chin to examine her closely. At this distance he can see flecks of gold in her warm, brown eyes. She is so, so brave. “Not alone, certainly.”

Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she looks like she might cry. Riza’s gaze lowers from his, but Roy keeps quiet, fingers steady on her jawbone. If she moves away, he won’t stop her from doing so.

She speaks up after a few minutes of unsettling silence. “Do you want to meet my father?”

“Yes,” he tells her honestly. “But it’s not a demand. If you’re not comfortable with it now, then we can table it for later. I’d like to at some point, though.”

Riza chews on her lower lip thoughtfully. “And if I said I wanted to meet your foster mother?”

Roy snickers, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction. “Then I would organise that. Not before preparing you for the Spanish Inquisition that will undoubtedly happen.”

Her eyebrow raises disbelievingly. “I doubt I’m that interesting.”

He turns to his espresso on the counter and takes a careful sip. “I beg to differ, avecilla. Besides, it wouldn’t just be my mother you’d be meeting. My sisters will want to meet you as well.” All fourteen of them goes unsaid, but Roy can only imagine the chaos of that environment.

“Do they know about me?”

Ah - the million cenz question. “Yes,” he answers truthfully. “They know you exist. Remember the phone call I got when we got back?”

Riza nods, her eyebrows creasing together. “Your mother wasn’t happy with you, if I’m remembering right.” She seems to hold herself tenser here, but he dismisses it.

“Yes, well… she had found out I had been back in Central and I hadn’t visited her, so that was strike number one. But word got to Vanessa that you had joined me as well, and I was told in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t bring you around immediately I would be disowned.” Well, that was the sanitised version. The actual words that were spoken were a lot more intimidating and involved all sorts of colourful threats directed at his person - the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Roy. Of course he wanted to introduce them all to Riza: he merely wanted to make sure she’d survive the encounter as well.

“They must care about you a lot.” He doesn’t miss the wistfulness in her voice, however hard she tries to bury it.

Perhaps it is a bit presumptuous of him to be thinking this far ahead, but given time, he could see her becoming close with his sisters. Not all of them, but the quieter ones; Roy thinks she would find in them kindred spirits. He has no doubts that she will be welcomed with open arms, treated as one of their own - but it’s more a matter if Riza would let herself be… well, adopted in such a manner.

His foster mother is another issue to navigate entirely, and deep down Roy knows no amount of coaching on what to expect will actually prepare Riza for the formidable woman that is Christina Mustang. He’s been careful in what he’s fed to her; enough to keep her placated, not to dig too much - because god knows what his mother would do if she found out the exact circumstances in which they met - but even still, he finds her intimidating, after all these years.

Maybe it’s selfish of him to ask this of her so suddenly, to meet her father who won’t have the capacity to respond in any meaningful way. But he needs to know the truth of her situation, and Riza has been very good about deflecting the issue. He understands that it’s difficult to talk about, especially considering the way in which she had to become an adult… but if he’s being honest with himself, he also wants to meet the man that by all appearances treated his daughter as an afterthought. The two of them might have plenty of parent issues between them, but Roy knows that she’s still coming to terms with her own.

Besides, Chris didn’t raise him to be disrespectful. The man deserved to meet him, even if he wasn’t able to give them much of an opinion or even his blessing.

“They mean well. Perhaps we could drop in for a visit on the way back from Aerugo - bringing them some food back from there would go over well.” It’s not a bad plan, when he actually thinks about it: Cecelia was due literally any day now, and she would be more than willing to run a little interference for him when they visited. Having a new grandchild present as well as Riza would keep his mother from focusing too much on either of them - meaning the visit would be less likely to end with Riza swearing off his family forever. It’s a little strange for him to recognise that he is somewhat nervous for her to meet them, but then again, it’s been years since he’s brought someone home at all.

Riza nods thoughtfully. “I guess that would be… fair.” She rubs at her eyes roughly. “If you’re gonna come with me then you’ll need a sweater or something long-sleeved. The softer the better.”

“Dare I ask why?”

A bitter smile grows on Riza’s face. “Normally he’s fine, but when I was first visiting he’d have… outbursts I guess. Scratching, tearing at his hair… they said it was because it was a new environment, and I was a new face for him after so many months in hospital. He might not even acknowledge us.”

The place is bleak, and Roy has spent a significant part of his childhood in interview rooms waiting for overloaded social workers to remember they had an appointment with his fosterers. There’s an overwhelming feeling of forgottenness here, from the peeling paint on the edifice, to the way the weeds grow in the cracks of the path to the front door. The inside is only marginally better - twenty or even thirty years ago, Roy would have agreed that this hospice was state-of-the-art.

Now it just feels horribly dated, a relic of the past that had been left behind.

Riza approaches the front desk, and speaks in low tones with the woman there. He’s staring at a painted mural that has definitely seen better days when she calls him over.

“Write your name here -” she tells him, indicating to a sheet of large white label stickers, “- and then she’ll go over the rules.”

The list of rules the nurse explains is exhaustive. No raised voices. No sudden or surprise touch. No electrical equipment. Nails to be filed down. No belts, rings - earrings - he realises her ever-present pearls are missing as she hands over her hair clip. The reality of this situation is even more harrowing than he could’ve imagined. Roy briefly debates writing in a pseudonym on his name tag, but considering he had to hand over his wallet, it wouldn't have made much difference anyway.

“We were surprised to hear from you again,” the nurse tells Riza as they turn down another long corridor. “Quite so soon, certainly. I think Berthold will like it.”

Riza makes an discontented noise. “Doctor Cassidy told me he hadn’t been well when I spoke to her on the phone this morning. I don't think this visit will be very long.”

They pass through the metal detector and the nurse - Gladys, Roy gleans from the embroidered section of her uniform, shrugs. “Even if it is, it’s still a good thing Riza. I know your father likes his routine but Evelyn did believe that this… disruption would be worth the momentary tantrums. Healing isn’t always so linear.” She guides them through another shorter hallway, and slides the door open to the visiting room. “Fabian will be here to take you back when you want to leave.”

Riza nods and thanks her, before squeezing his hand tightly. “Ready?” she asks him.

Roy nods. “Of course.”

The visiting room is a sparse affair, but it strikes Roy just how normal it looks. That is, until his eyes are drawn to the way furniture is bolted to the ground, to the heavy grate across the unlit fireplace, to the way the windows are barred and reinforced. The security measure reminds him of one of the rougher foster homes he was placed in while awaiting long-term fostering.

Riza gives him little time to get his bearings, instead pulling him over to a man sitting in a plush armchair near the fireplace.

“Roy, this is my father, Berthold Hawkeye,” Riza says, uncharacteristically chipper, like a customer service employee. Forced smiles and high pitched. She kneels down in front of the man and Roy takes a seat in the chair opposite. “Papa, I’ve been told you’re not happy that I rescheduled,” she continues carefully, like this quiet, catatonic man will maul her at any given moment. “But I’ve brought someone that I’d like you to meet. He’s a chemist, like you.” The man moves his head subtly. Riza glances at him apprehensively, but only for a moment. Her voice certainly doesn’t betray her. “And... also, my boyfriend.”

Slowly, Berthold looks up, and a brief smile appears on Riza’s face. “I had hoped that’d get your attention. This is-”

Roy put his hand up to stop her and he moves to the edge of his seat, nearly off the cushion it as he inches closer. He extends his hand out to her father for a handshake. It stays there, suspended in the air as Berthold’s blue eyes look at them listlessly, then to Riza and then to Roy, before he just as slowly takes the offer on the handshake. He can hear Riza’s breath shudder in relief.

“My name is Roy Mustang and it’s a pleasure to meet you... sir.”

Later that evening, they lie over his sheets in a pensive, post-coital stupor. Both of them naked from the heat that’s beginning to settle over East City; late spring giving way to early summer. It’s been five minutes since either of them has said anything. He’s on his side, head propped up by his hands. She’s lying on her stomach, face turned away from but he knows she’s not asleep from the way she’s breathing. At the moment, Roy is silent to simply be there for her, to let her process. She was in a peculiar mood following the visit with her father; an in-between of being glad that it went well and confusion. Even if she doesn’t wear her emotions like he does, he would be remiss if he didn’t suspect this required a substantial amount of emotional energy.

He also notices that she doesn’t flinch when he traces over the texture of her scars.

Berthold Hawkeye was quiet throughout his daughter’s abridged version of their relationship. This version of the story focused heavily on her job as his assistant and he didn’t fault her for it. Occasionally Berthold had nodded, but largely his head was turned away from the two of them, seemingly transfixed on his left hand, fingers flexing and relaxing every so often.

All the way through her retelling, he had been keenly aware of her bravado. She was so tense next to him, even more so than when Maes was grilling them. Who the act was for, he wasn’t sure: for her father, for him? For herself? In the end, he supposes it was a mix of them all.

Finally, as if reading his mind, Riza says, “I haven’t seen him respond like that in a-” she breathes in, her back just barely cresting to touch the moonlight and then back down into the shadows “-long, long time.”

Her father only given them simple responses, grunts, and nods; very rudimentary social gestures. He feels for her dearly if that had been a vast improvement. “How long?” he asks simply.

“Years.”

Roy breathes out slowly and nears to kiss her bare shoulder. “I’m sorry that’s something you had to deal with on your own.”

Her shoulder blades move in a shrug under his fingertips. “It is what it is,” she says softly.

From the way she’s still looking away from him, into the shadows of his room, he suspects she’s crying or trying really hard not to. He admires her for her fortitude. It must have taken years and years to build up that shell of hers, to keep what she feels hidden from plain sight. Roy remains silent, letting her talk through this.

“My mother, she passed when I was a baby. Growing up, I had a theory that he wasn’t always so distant like he was; that when my mother died, a part of him died with her. I can’t even resent him for that. And then, the accident… that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“He spent day after day locked in his study whenever I was home, for years. It was his life’s work and to this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to do. I was simply too young to understand and even if I did, I don’t think he would have let me in.

“He was very traditionalist. Everything on paper. Nothing electronic. That way he knows it’s real, he’d say. Then something went wrong, some problem that had been giving him grief for weeks on end. He was always frustrated, muttering, banging the walls - he’d been in his study longer than ever, not coming down for meals, and leaving the food I’d bring him to get cold. I shouldn’t have been in there, in his lab. I was only bringing him some tea when he miscalculated and set off something incendiary. All of his research burned the day I got those scars.” She sighs. “He has some too, but not as severe.”

He lacks the words to appropriately respond. She’s unloading a childhood trauma that he knew was severe, but she’s dishing it out so nonchalantly, like it was just another story.

“Did you know I only majored in Chemistry for him?” She sniffles so quietly he almost misses it and his fingers stop.

“To have something to bring up to him for these visits. To engage with him in conversation he’s historically responded to. It would work at first, when I started getting past the general education requirements and then his reactions started to dwindle down again. I had thought I was just going to have to be patient until I got further and further. Career-wise, it wasn’t a bad decision either.

“In the end, it got me to you.” Her head turns to him with her eyes are bright and her mouth smiling. “And today, you helped showed me he’s not all the way gone.”

“I’m glad I can talk nerdy with your dad then.”

“It was good for him. Or at least, there’s some hope that it was.”

“Of course.” He kisses her forehead. “And since we’re exchanging war stories…”

“Is that what we’re doing?” she teases.

“Sure,” he smiles back. “It’s actually very similar to yours. But you have to promise me you can keep it a secret.”

She looks at him from her pillow, and purses her lips. “I believe I kept one all semester. I’d say my record is pretty good so far.”

“I have to cover my bases,” he says with a laugh. “My team in Research and Development were tasked with creating a very specific type of wearable weapons. The simplest explanation for the prototype would be… pyrotechnic gloves, I guess. The idea was that it would be able to pass by unscrutinised by anybody looking closer, so it could be smuggled in by spies and double agents to use at close range. The eventual goal was to be able to make a movement as innocuous as a snap of the fingers, and you’d be able to make a sizable explosion from the resulting fire.”

“This is what you got your doctorate for?”

“Well, hold on a minute, let me finish,” he says defensively. “You don’t have to tell me that what I was doing was morally wrong. It was something I thought about nearly every day. The military doesn’t create this to warm the beds of children, trust me I know. But like your father, it was my work, I had a team and because of what I was doing I was providing a livelihood for others. Or at least, that’s what I was telling myself.

“I was sleep-deprived and stressed and on a deadline. It felt like the walls were closing in on every front. I slipped up. Maybe it was a decimal point in the wrong place, or something else that I should’ve picked up on. The explosion knocked me back, but I had been impaled by - I don’t even know what it was with all burning debris falling on me. I came to a day later to discover that one of my team had died in that fire. An Ishvallan scientist, eager and as willing to learn as I had been. I was in the hospital for weeks, thinking the worst of myself, and Greta…” he swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “She was only making it worse. As far as she was concerned it wasn’t that big of a deal, that it didn’t matter that Heathcliff died because of me. I should’ve ended it there.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. I didn’t. It was a confusing time and I didn’t give myself time to think straight.” He sighs. “I realize now that how she was treating me during my convalesce, treating our relationship. It was never going to be sustainable, not the way we were heading. We were young, immature, and didn’t know how to communicate honestly with one another. Mix in a near-death experience and I know exactly why we stayed together.”

“How long ago was this?”

“I believe I was twenty-five, if not closer to twenty-six. Almost four years ago”

She doesn’t regard with pity, but understanding when she places a hand on his arm for physical comfort. It was a different and new kind of response. “I suppose I should be grateful for your change in career,” she says after a moment. “Worst injury I need to worry about you getting is a papercut.”

“The hours are a lot more lenient too. There’s never a complaint if I cancel class. But there’s still that missing element. I wonder from time to time what would have happened if I had been more vocal about the research I did for the military. The University is great but...” He trails off.

“But it’s not enough, I understand. And there’s only so much you can do with grants.”

He smiles somberly. “Exactly.”

Riza looks at him for a while. It’s a rare thing to see her so peaceful while she’s awake, no underlying tension present in her expression. “Maybe Aerugo would help clearing our minds.”

He lifts his head, to look at her face. “Are you saying you’ll go with me?”

She nods her head against the pillow and takes a deep breath, like she’s preparing herself. “I do have something to confess, though. That box that Maes gave to you before we left - when you were on the phone the other day, I accidentally knocked it over. And I found a picture, of a younger you. And Greta.”

Ordinarily he’d expect himself to be more uneasy at the revelation, but perhaps her candid honesty - so quickly after the fact - keeps him composed. “Did you? I’m surprised. When we separated, I left all the photos with her.”

“I only bring this up, because I’m curious: do you think she’ll be there?” She sounds so calm, but Roy would be a fool not to know that there is a thread of concern woven within her words.  

Greta is a fleeting creature, letting whims and tempers make her decisions. Roy can’t possibly know for sure and yet he still answers, “No.”

next

[1wngdngl]

Pokemon Shield playthrough

I’ve been playing this game a lot since last night, and I still haven’t gotten on the train yet ;) I like to take games slowly to make sure I notice and experience everything along the way. It looks like the best way to share my game progress is through screenshots, so that’s what I’ll do. Cut for length and spoilers - I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers and leaks for the past couple weeks, so if you want to be able to experience the games fresh yourself, now might be a good time to click away. [This post covers up thru getting the Dynamax band]

I went ahead with the “standard” female character, but you can bet I’ll be customizing her as soon as I can. What’s with that knock-kneed stance, anyway? Pokemon trainers should stand strong and confident!

Chairman Rose greets us. Everyone online was guessing he’ll turn out to be evil or something. He certainly looks suspicious, doesn’t he?

And here comes the first surprise of the LP - a brand-new Pokemon, not even seen in trailers! (except for that fuzzy 1-frame image from a while back.) Its trunk looks kinda like a soup ladle. Maybe it’s a play on a teacup/teapot elephant? I wonder if it evolves...

Here’s Leon fighting an unknown trainer - maybe a Gym leader?

I really like the art style of the map - it’s so whimsical :)

The map also shows current weather for all locations. Look at all the different stuff going on in the Wild Area at the same time! I’ve been to the real England, and I don’t remember it having such extreme weather...

The map also has a few useful features, like displaying your next objective, and showing the facilities in a town (but only once you’ve been there yourself). The towns and such all have really interesting names that emulate that old English sound.

First thing I do when I gain control in a new Pokemon game? Change the battle style to “Set”. It seems more fair, plus it helps make the game just a bit more challenging.

I’m a little sad that the old option to change menu/text box borders seems to be forever abandoned, though... >.>

My house. It’s a pretty decent-sized place. We have a pet Munchlax and a few Budew outside. My character practices her whistling.

My mom. Or “mum” as the game calls her. The dialog is noticeably slanted toward a more British dialect - I wonder how they handled the accent in other languages?

Speaking of my mom, she seems rather big compared to me, doesn’t she? Quite a bit taller. I’m guessing my character is around 12 - when I was that age, I was the same height as my mom and done growing. Maybe they think people won’t believe this character is the mom’s child if she’s too tall?

Also, my dream is to one day have a /dad/ in a Pokemon game. Seriously, why does every other house I visit have a husband and wife, and my character is always stuck being the only child of a single parent? What if in one of these games, my dad was the champion or the evil team leader - how fun would that be?

My bedroom. The pink clock on the wall reminds me of one from a previous Pokemon game - was it ORAS that had those round clocks on the wall that you could set?

My first step on my journey. Looks like my mom spends every minute gardening - I guess the Budew help her?

Ah yes, every Pokemon game needs a “power of science” guy :)

Here’s another surprise - how many Pokemon games give you a fishing rod right at the start?! Usually you have to track down three different fisherman to get the three versions of the fishing rod. I’m also happy to see that Pokeballs have their own pocket again :)

The handy map tells us where to go next, with even a little picture of our destination.

The champion of Galar, of course, has a huge house.

Wow, a Purrloin! I forgot that they stood on two legs. I like its little bed.

Also, Leon’s family decorate their house mainly in trophies.

I guess this is Hop’s room - I like his artwork. I know Leon has a Charizard - does he have these other two Pokemon too, and that’s why Hop has posters of them?

Leon’s room is mostly a shrine to hats.

Speaking of Leon, he really knows how to play to the crowd ;)

So, some people are wondering if /Leon/ will turn out to be evil in the story. I didn’t really get that vibe from him. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but he does seem like he has some worries on his mind, like his cheer is sometimes forced?

Maybe he actually hates the limelight and gets uncomfortable with attention? Maybe he’s secretly terminally ill? Maybe there’s some massive threat about to attack the Galar region? He seems really concerned with making sure that Galar has lots of strong trainers. Maybe he knows something about the legendaries?

Alternately, some people were saying that maybe Leon isn’t actually a great champion, and his fights are rigged in his favor by the chairman. /If/ that were the case, I bet that Leon is actually unhappy with that situation and wants to make the tournament more fair.

Or maybe everything in the game is exactly as it seems ;)

Nothing important here, I just like this screenshot. I wonder if Fletchling are native to Galar too?

My first Pokemon! (in this game, at least...) I picked Sobble because he’s the most endearing.

My first battle! I like how the interface is laid out, and how detailed the background is beyond the fighters - you can even see Leon standing there.

My Pokemon's details. I don’t play competitively so I don’t know if it’s a particular “good” Sobble. It seems like this species is a fast special-attacker, so I’ll have to keep that in mind.

The Slumbering Weald (my spellchecker doesn’t even recognize that word :) ) It’s very spooky and seclusive - and it’s right next to the starter town too! You’d think if it was really that dangerous, people would put up more than a flimsy wooden gate to keep trespassers out...Hop, of course, is an idiot and runs right into it; and I, the spineless protagonist, have no option to say no. >.>

My first wild encounter! This starts the trend I noticed all during the opening hours of this game - most of the wild Pokemon are brand-new, totally-unrevealed species. Like this squirrel thing. (Although some people guessed we would get a new squirrel based on that shirt design). I wonder if it evolves?

This part was actually pretty scary, with the Pokemon (I can’t remember its name...) suddenly appearing out of the fog. The Pokemon acted almost like a hologram in battle though - my attacks couldn’t touch it.

What if the twist is that the legendary wolf Pokemon are just illusions, perhaps even man-made ones created to keep intruders from discovering some secret in the forest?

Anyway, we escape from the situation perfectly fine, because of course we do ;)

I noticed that this particular generation gives you quite of a bit of money at the start, but I guess that’s because you encounter the first boutique so early. There’s a fair number of affordable options too. Some of these Pokemon shirts I wish were /real/ shirts.

My new look :) Mostly I just ditched the dress for jeans. This looks like a comfortable outfit, although that knapsack is a bit unwieldy.

We visit the professor’s lab. She has a lot of books, plants, and a tea set. I wonder if she ever has problems with Polteageist?

The new Pokemon center design. I love that the move deleter/relearner and nickname functions are all in one place - I always hated flying around the map trying to remember where they were.

That Pokemon behind the counter is another totally new one. Could this be a Galarian Audino?

Using mystery gift, I was able to get this “Gigantamax” Meowth. However, due to my rule of only using Gen 8 Pokemon, it’s just gonna chill out in the box >.>

Leon is very generous with Pokeballs. Even the items you find on the ground are generous, often containing 2 or 3 “copies” of an item when you check it out. Is that a new thing for Pokemon?

Here I battle my first trainer that isn’t named Hop. He has that squirrel shirt and is a total pushover.

Just chilling by the professor’s house. It looks like maybe you can only fish in fishing spots (those darker circles on the water), but at least you get your fishing pole right away.

Also, I discovered that while I could not sit on beds or chairs inside, I am able to sit on this bench :)

The way the Pokemon mill about in the tall grass is very interesting. Some will try to avoid you, others like this Yamper will chase after you. It makes the routes feel a lot more populated.

I guess this is Sonia’s room. It’s very pink. I wonder if she even /wants/ to do Pokemon research, or if she’d rather be a fashion designer or something.

The in-game time of day doesn’t seem to match up with the Switch system clock, at least not from what I’ve seen so far. For example, suddenly it is sunset and I catch a falling star. (look how the reflection in the water changes :) )

I haven’t decided yet if I want to buy the Switch online service, but in the meantime I decided to at least pick my profile picture. The icons you can choose from actually reveal quite a lot about the trainer classes and gyms that are in the game. For the first time ever, we have a Dark-type gym! Their logo is a sideways version of Team Yell’s logo - does that mean that Team Yell or Marnie is the Dark gym leader?

I spent a while catching Pokemon around the professor’s house. I can’t tell if I got every possible species without looking online, but I did build up a good roster.

I found it really cool how many new, surprising Pokemon showed up this early in the game. There’s the fox one (which is a Dark type and reminds me of Zoroark), the turtle one (which has got to be a pre-evolution of Dreadnaw, probably the 1st of 3 stages), the bird one (based on the “Rook” in its name and the fact that it learns Dark-type moves early, I’m guessing it’s a pre-evolution of Corviknight), and the bug one (can’t wait to see what its final stage looks like).

I went through the party to find the best Pokemon that fit my self-imposed rules (only new, Gen 8 Pokemon, no overlap of types). I know that this means I won’t be able to use Galarian forms or Gigantamaxes of old Pokemon, but just because I’m not using them in my main playthrough doesn’t mean I can’t catch them :)

Next time: I step onto the train and leave my home behind.

[muses-of-creation]

Thiefs

Our job was simple. Stealing magical artifacts from dangerous people and trying to not get killed or captured by a organization called Holy Trinity. Everything was going smoothly, until two devil hunters have butted in our job claiming we were demons. This is about a story about how a wizard and a necromancer got themselves into troubles with the two most dangerous devil hunters.

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566482

Good reading~.

Dante had gotten a new job from Morrison. As much as he wanted to refuse it, Morrison again decided to cancel all pizza orders until he paid the bill in full. To add, Lady too had arrived, and made even more pressure, because of the debts Dante still owed her. With no choice, he went to the mansion Morrison had told him.

Much to his surprise, as he was approaching the mansion, he met an unexpected person. Nero was there, too. Dante greeted him “Hey Kid! What are you doing here?”

Nero sighed in a mixture of irritation and annoyance at the sight of Dante and said “A job. I hope you're not here for the same.”

"So it looks like we're going to have to work together because I have a job here, too." Dante announced, pointing to the mansion.

"Aren’t you too old to take jobs? You should be reforming soon.” Nero retorted not happy with the news.

"And miss all the fun? Do not even think about it. Rest assured I can still play with you. You don’t need to worry.” Said Dante back.

“Go back to sleep old man. I think you're already dreaming.” Said Nero, turning more and more irritated, walking to the gate of the mansion.

Dante laughed and followed him, ending up messing his hair up like Nero was a little kid. That was the end for Nero. If there weren’t so many people on the streets Nero had already started a fight there with Dante, which was what Dante probably wanted, but Nero wouldn’t let him win. He took Dante's arm by the wrist with Devil Bringer and warned him “You do that again, and I’ll rip your arm off.”

“You're in a bad mood, Kid.” Dante observed "recovering" his arm. "Kyrie is not satisfying you, or something like that?"

This made Nero very frustrated with such a question, especially since Dante was not ashamed to say such things wherever he went. Eventually Dante saw Nero’s face the color of his coat. To Nero's great salvation, a butler came to greet them at the gate, thus ending that conversation.

"Please come with me. My master is already waiting for you.” The butler announced with a bow.

Then he turned his back and began to guide them, first through the house, and then to the master's office.

"This rich people don’t have nothing else to do with money." Dante remarked as he watched the house, which was quite rich in pieces of art, but the architecture itself was rich.

“I just hope the work pays well.” Nero thought loudly, with little desire in having to share the reward.

Waiting for them was a man in front of a window. He wasn’t too tall, already old, probably in his seventies, almost eighty years. But he still had short brown hair, a little bald though. He was thin and wore round glasses with a golden wire frame. His eyes were already of a very dull green and he was dressed in a suit, leaning on a cane, which was equally rich, with embed designs and precious or semiprecious stones, like his collection and house.

As soon as he saw his guests, he smiled at them and asked for them to sit down, and they did it.

“Thank you very much for accepting my invitation. Can I offer you something?” Asked the man, in a sympathetic tone.

"If it's not too troublesome, we'd rather go into the details." Dante answered, trying not to be rude, which he failed miserably.

“Of course.” The man nodded, making a sign to the butler, who brought a box with a bracelet that looked quite simple with a pink stone in the center and the rest made of silver. "I got this recently, but I'm afraid about what might happen to it.”

"It sounds simple enough.” Nero remarked in his ignorance.

"That's because you don’t know the true value of it." said the man in a rather rude manner, as well as incredulous with his ignorance.

"Are you saying the bracelet is cursed?" Nero tried to figure it out.

“Nothing like that. And it's a bangle bracelet, not just a bracelet.” Corrected the man. "It may not seem so, but despite its simple appearance, behind it hides a great power. Because of this I fear that it will catch the eye of demons.

“As well?” This time it was Dante who asked, because he didn’t see where the man wanted to go either.

"Haven’t you heard of the demons who steal artifacts? Usually are two, but sometimes four.” Said the man. "I've heard several stories, and several of my friends have been stolen by them.”

"I'm sorry, but we kill demons, we don’t catch thieves. So… you should go to the police.” Commented Dante.

"I don’t think I'm explaining myself well then." The man looked a little unhappy. “Everything happens supernaturally.”

"You'll have to do better if you want to convince us that these thieves are demons." Nero announced.

“I can see it. Usually they’re never seen, very strange things happen when they steal the pieces, like sudden descents of temperatures...” the man began.

"Now it looks like we're talking about ghosts. Not yet our category.” Interrupted Dante.

"No. To solve this, they need an exorcist.” Completed Nero.

The man took a deep breath trying to not to get angry and continued his explanation, as if they hadn’t said anything. "The security systems don’t pick up anything, but the piece from one moment to the other disappears.”

"They still look like ghosts to me." Dante interrupted the man again.

“Can you let me finish?!” Asked the man already angry, eventually losing all his composure.

Both Dante and Nero were silent. The man cleared his throat and continued what he was saying "When they’re confronted, they usually kill everyone in a real bloodbath, or in a rather painful way, like burned alive, melted with poison, among other types of deaths, which have been recorded. No matter what you try, they always end up having what they want. And as they appear, they disappear without leaving any trace.”

“Registered? Are you saying they recorded all the deaths that happened?” Asked Nero, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, just like the robbery happened. If you want, I can give you those records.” Said the man.

"Then let us see those records, and then we'll talk." Asked Dante not believing the man's word.

The man gave the butler a new signal and he fetched a tablet with all the videos and files that had been spoken. The butler handed them the tablet and Nero picked it up so they could see. After watching the videos, they were practically convinced.

"I'll pay you whatever you need for your services. But please get rid of them. It has been very difficult to live in the Art Market in this way.” Asked the man again, half desperate for not being able to see if they would accept it or not.

“Worth trying.” Decided Nero.

“As long as I receive my reward in the end…It's fine by me.” Dante agreed.

And so, they sealed the deal there. All that was left was to know when the attack was going to take place.

 §§§§§

I was surfing in the internet when I got new information about a magical artifact that had recently moved. I saw everything that was accompanying the photograph of the artifact. As always came with the purchase invoice of the object, which ended up giving the rest of the information. From the invoice I looked for the rest and found the place where the person lived, only needed to do the rest of the recognition, including see if Inna was interested too.

As soon as she reached the cafe, where we had arranged to meet, I turned the computer over to her and announced “Just look at what just came.”

“Uh ~. New artifact?” She asked excited.

“Yup. I haven’t yet seen which artifact is, or what it does, but I’ve already found who has it and where it lives.” I told her.

"Then we must deal with the rest." Inna decided.

"I was just waiting to see if you'd be interested in participating." I said.

“Of course, I am. It's been a while since the last.” Said Inna clearly annoyed.

“Unfortunately, or fortunately this is how this market works.” I nodded.

“Tonight?” She asked, referring to the house of the new owner of the artifact to analyze the situation and how we would make the robbery plan.

“Sure.” I nodded.

“By the way. Do you think the Holy Trinity is also behind this one?” Asked Inna. "He seems to be one of those who, though simple, is very powerful."

“That's because it is. We'll probably have some fun.” I concluded with a smile.

“I hope so. I need to exercise a little.” Said Inna, smiling, pleased with the novelty.

I laughed and commented “I thought you had become sedentary.”

“Look who's talking.” She retorted. “Just because of this, I give up being sedentary. I hope at least someday I'll find that damn artifact.”

"I'm sure we'll find it sooner or later. Aside from that Catherine and Asura also have an eye on it.” I said.

"Yes. Although they prefer to go around killing demons, rather than artifacts.” Inna wasn’t very confident in them.

"In the end, we're going to be adventurers like Lara Croft, or Nathan Drake." I tried to cheer her up.

“Indiana Jones to by the way.” Added Inna.

“Of course. Who refuses such an adventure?” I asked.

We laughed and we still spent time at the cafe, not only to enjoy the excellent cakes they had, but also the drinks, because they’re divine. In the meantime, we also made more research not only on the artifact itself, but also on the man and his own house.

Ah! Do you want to know the name of the rich man? Fine. His name is Arthur Smith. A not very sociable man who lived basically from his large private collection of art, always looking for more. That's how he got the artifact. The artifact was going to be auctioned, but because he knew the auctioneer, he got it before it was even announced for the next auction, so there were no records of it.

The Magic Academy was where I got the information. It is an organization of protection of magical artifacts, that tries to find them and to surrender them to its rightful owners, or to whom they must belong. Trying to the maximum that they’re used by the wrong people, or even coming into the hands of demons, or the Holy Trinity.

The Holy Trinity is basically the opposite of the former. All that matters to them is to have the power and the maximum knowledge possible to serve their own ends. Thanks to this, we came across them a lot of times and things didn’t go very well, because usually they ended up dead. This made us targets for them. They aren’t only interested in artefacts, but also work with demons, even protect them. Nothing that seemed like the relationship of necromancers with their demons.

Usually the artifacts we steal are already in someone's hands. Even if someone doesn’t know the power he has in his hands. In these cases, the Magic Academy usually deals with these people and ends up giving you an even more valuable offer than the artifact has for these people, only when the Trinity interferes is when someone has to steal it.

Usually it's just me and Inna who do this, but there are two other girls who sometimes help us, Catherine and Asura. Sometimes we end up with the artifacts, because we liked them, the ones we did not like, we give them to the Magic Academy, just the way they wanted it, since they don’t know everything we steal.

We started this because each of us is looking for a specific artifact. In the case of the Inna, is one that is useful to her, because it is an artifact for necromancers that had been in the possession of her master / father, but eventually disappeared. And mine, is one that is specific to me, a wizard, that by chance my grandpa had been looking for him for a long time.

As agreed, that evening, we met at Arthur Smith's house and began to see how we were going to prepare the plan. See what kind of security the house had, how could we get into the grounds where the house was, in which part of the house was the artifact. That kind of boring stuff.

Unfortunately, it took us longer than we’d thought, and it took all night for that because it’s huge. The artifact was in what we took to be a secret mini-library. While I was checking the security where the box was, Inna began to walk, to see what could be there of interest to steal. She reached the desk there and saw an envelope on the table with a seal, which she recognized immediately.

“Rin-chan. Look at this.” Said Inna, showing me the envelope seal.

“Holy Trinity.” I said as soon as I saw the design of the seal.

"It seems that this gentleman here has connections with them." Inna concluded.

“Yeah. I just hope it gives us enough time to steal this.” I said.

"Unfortunately, I cannot say that. Only the envelope is here.” Inna observed. "But that just means we're going to have to steal it tomorrow."

I agreed and we finished everything we had to do there. Now that we had everything done it was easy to draw the plan and we could put it into practice the next night.

The next night we met at the point that had been marked as the meeting place. This time we were fully prepared to make the assault. We even had brought our firearms, which they usually have magical ammunition, because if there were human beings ignorant of the dark edge of the world, we could not use magic to deal with them. The most troublesome would be if the Holy Trinity appeared, after all the work we’d done to be the ones claiming the prize, but in a situation like that, we could use magic at will.

Inna had Lapuree with her to serve as a flying watchman, who was a dragon demon still small, but looked more like a butterfly demon. I did all the spells I knew so we wouldn’t be easily noticed and we could go into the woods and head for the house. Fortunately, everything was as before, which meant that we hadn’t been noticed the night before, and there was still no sign of the Holy Trinity.

We entered the secret mini-library carefully and there was nothing different from yesterday. I took the gadget out of the box and slipped it into a concealed coat pocket, where I was sure nothing was going to happen to it. After this we hastened to get out of there.

We were once again walking through the forest toward our exit, when shots were fired in our direction from our two sides. Luckily Lapuree was more noticeable than us and warned us, giving us enough time to get away. It wasn’t normal to leave anyone to tell the story, much less someone who had noticed us like that, which meant that they couldn’t be normal humans.

We changed our trajectory and shortly after we reached a glade, we stopped with our backs to each other, in the center. We grabbed our firearms, in the case of Inna a shotgun, and in my case one of the pistols, and each one of us pointed at his sniper.

They came out of the forest with their guns pointed at us, too, but they did not fire. They were two white-haired men, but one was older and had a very stylish red coat, and the other was younger and had a shiny arm.

Lapuree was sitting on Inna's head. She made a few sounds, which meant she had something to say, but only Inna noticed and understood.

"She said one of them is half demon, and the other is only a quarter." She translated Lapuree so I could understand.

That was in the minimum curious, and I bet Inna thought the same thing. But there was no time to think about it. They advanced toward us, until they saw a pleasant distance of safety. We watched them, trying to read what their next step was.

“Look that! It's just two girls.” Said the man in a red coat, clearly happy, but in a tone that seemed to degrade us.

"Let's see if these girls can’t be smarter than you”. Inna threatened, disliking his tone.

One thing was for sure, our main goal was to get away. We could not afford to take too long, otherwise the Holy Trinity would appear and make everything more complicated.

“Calm down, babe.” Asked the man, laughing at her attitude.

Inna liked even less than he said this time, eventually giving a shotgun shot, which passed close to his head, since the goal was not to kill him until he proved what they were.

“Don’t call me that!” She warned him.

In response the man whistled and made another comment, but was interrupted by the other man with the luminous arm "Yet they are demons and they are our targets.”

“Devils?” We both asked, clearly confused by the revelation.

But instead of someone giving us an explanation, the man in the red coat said “You're no fun Kid. Here we are. With two cute girls and you don’t care.”

"And one of them has already shot you and is still pointing a gun at you." He twitched the other rolling his eyes.

"I knew I should have shot him in the head.” Said Inna more and more annoyed that we were wasting time there. “Can I kill him?”

“No.” I answered. “That's not what we’re here for”.

"So, we created a new goal.” Inna tried again.

"That will only make us wasting more time." I protested.

"Let's try to do things well.” Said the man in the red coat. "You give us what you have stolen and you can come back to your life.”

"They are demons. You never can get things right.” Retorted the other.

“This is ridiculous.” I announced with a sigh because they continued to call us demons.

“At least we have two hot guys following us.” Commented Inna.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“What? We'll never have such handsome men behind us except for this.” She twisted, seizing the moment for a few seconds.

“Can we go now?” I asked already annoyed.

“Sure.” Inna agreed.

"No." said the two men.

“Fine.” We said both at the same time.

But we didn’t want to know what they wanted, or they didn’t want to. As a distraction we put down our weapons. Just when they were distracted by it, it was time for us to run again in different directions, to get out of there. Still they responded quickly, eventually intercepting us again.

“Already leaving us? The party is about to start.” Commented the man in the red coat to Inna.

“Sorry, but we have to attend another one.” Inna answered with a fake smile, bringing up her naginata, to see if she could make a way to go.

“I won’t let you go.” Said the other man who stopped me.

“Oh yeah? I want to see you try.” I turned back in a defiant tone and smiled, making my sword appear.

They also took each one their swords and we started a fight. If we did a battle of skill and strength, they won clearly, but that wasn’t our fighting style, either. Inna called one of her demons, Alvaro, who was a gunslinger, which made the man in the red coat protest “That's not fair.”

Except that the moment he finished speaking, he was shot in the middle of the forehead by Alvaro.

“Alvaro!” Protested Inna.

"Lady, I know that's what you wanted to do from the start” Alvaro declared with a smile.

“That hurts!” Protested the man in the red coat rubbing his forehead.

This was something that surprised her immensely, because he was supposed to be death, but there he was as if he’d never been shot in the head. They returned to fight each other, but this time Inna began to use also magic to fight, being able to stand better against him.

In my case I started to use the elements in my favor, starting with fire. He was avoiding everything, but my goal was not to hit him, it was too warm his sword hilt. It worked because he finally dropped his sword. This gave me the opportunity I expected, to make my next attack. What I wasn’t expecting was that he would defend himself with the luminous arm, as if it were nothing.

“Let's get this over with.” He said, opening and closing his hand, which now I could see it wasn’t human.

He was going to attack with that little hand from the distance we were, so I formed a shield, defending his attack still with some ease.

“Interesting.” I watched his arm with a smile. "That's really interesting."

“Do you want to taste it?” He asked as he attacked me again.

“If you can get it right.” I challenged him again, this time diverting.

We weren’t going anywhere if we continued this way. Unlike them, we were growing tired and we were already feeling the consequences of it, eventually being pushed back to where we started. Each of us picked up our guns again, but instead of firing at our opponent, we fired at our opposing opponent, which worked. Because the bullets we used were magical we did them some damage.

"How fair is that?" Protested the man with the luminous arm, a little irritated by it.

"You men do not swallow your pride and bow before the circumstances." Said Inna.

“We observe and execute what is best suited to the situation.” I added.

The man in the red coat snapped his sword on the ground and leaned on her, laughing.

“Because of this… it was worth the job.”

He was going to attack us again, but at that moment the Inna ninja immersed and threw one of her smoke bombs to the ground while I did a quick teleportation spell. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it outside.

"Since our situation could not be better…" Inna began, looking at a spot.

I looked and what I saw there was demons.

“It's perfect.” I commented sarcastically.

“We'd better be quick on this.” Alvaro advised us. "They're already coming our way."

“Wow! How annoying!” I protested already without patience.

"At least they're handsome, but this time I have to agree with you." Said Inna.

We defeated the demons that were there, and we were on our way again, for new demons to appear.

"Do not tell me they smelled the artifact!" Protested Inna.

"They shouldn’t!" I replied. “I took all precautions!”

We got rid of the demons and we met again with our two stalkers.

“Seriously?!” Asked Inna, clearly irritated.

“Our luck is fantastic.” I sighed.

"If you want something with me, you first call me on a date, and then we can talk." Said Inna.

“They are more like ex boyfriends who never leave.” I retorted.

“Seriously? So, you wanna go out with me, babe?” Asked the man in the red coat with a smile.

“Enough!” Exclaimed the man with the luminous arm.

"Demons killing other demons. This is rare now.” Commented the man in the red coat.

“Okay. Now you're going to have to explain it.” Started Inna. "I know I invoke demons, but being one it's still going a long way. Or does this make me one?

"You aren’t a demon, but you have the personality of one, so ..." I said.

“I'll kill you.” Inna looked at me with a murderous look.

"Kill them, not me."  I asked innocently.

“Stop it!” He ordered clearly angry.

“Wait. Aren’t you demons?” Asked the man in the red coat, now confused.

"That's obvious!" Protested Inna.

"Just because we use magic doesn’t mean we are demons.” I added.

"But you killed humans." Nero retorted, not convinced.

"He must be speaking of the Holy Trinity." Inna remembered. "The time we went to one's house, remember?"

“Ah! That time. But how do they know that?” I asked.

"Stop talking like we're not here!" Exclaimed the man with the luminous arm.

“It’s all recorded on video.” Replied the man in the red coat.

“What?!” We both said both clearly surprised.

“That’s is impossible! That means ..." I thought, but I had no time for anything.

The next moment I was shot in the left shoulder, putting me on my knees on the floor. It had not been any of the men and Inna just didn’t take one either because Alvaro was faster, yet she carried one in the leg from another angle. We turned to see who the snipers had been, to meet some people in suit.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” thanked a woman with glasses and a ponytail. “Demon hunters Dante and Nero.”

"What's going on here?" Demanded the man with the luminous arm.

“Holy Trinity.” I said as I tried to get me back on my feet with one hand where I had taken the shot.

“Ruby Campbell.” Said the woman, turning to me with a sadistic smile.  “Do you like our latest bullets? They are made of iron, so your magical abilities won’t work. And the same goes for you Inna Walker.” She said, turning to the Inna.

"You ..." Inna was about to start cursing.

Alvaro was about to shoot them, but he eventually disappeared, making Inna extremely surprised.

"We have our own measures against necromancers.” Said the woman.  “Take them.”

"Why not kill us already?" Inna asked irritated.

"Because you’re useful to us alive.” Replied the woman.

The men who were with her were going to get us, but the man in the red coat gave a shot that killed one of them.

“What do you think you're doing?” Asked the woman, unhappy with his attitude.

“I'm so sorry, my finger slipped.” He replied.

Then the other man stretched and shot in the other. “Ups. My bad. He excused himself.”

"If that's what you want. You don’t even need to be paid." Said the woman, taking a whip.

The men who were with her also prepared to fight. But before they could do anything, they were all unconscious. And when the man in the red coat came to the woman's feet, which was already leaning against the trunk of a tree, he declared "We don’t like being deceived. Our job is to kill demons, not to kill humans.”

And then he put her unconscious. While Inna was in charge of killing some of the men with my pistol, I used my sword to form a spell that killed the rest, including the woman. This caused me to start bleeding from the nose because I was going beyond the limits I could get with an iron bullet on my shoulder. I took the rest I had to freeze my right shoulder so I could not feel any pain.

“Why have you done that?” Asked the man with the luminous arm.

"They're not human anymore. Apart from that it would give us a lot of work if they were still alive.” I explained.

The man in the red coat crouched at the foot of the Inna and went to take her in his lap, but she pointed the pistol at his head, asking "What are you going to do now?"

"We have no reason to kill you. You’re not demons.” He replied.

"If you'd heard us from the beginning, you'd known that for a long time.” I said.

“Yeah. That's why we have to help you now.” He said, carrying Inna in bride style, not caring about the pistol she was aiming at him.

“Get off me!” Inna protested, trying to shoot him, but he swerved.

“Let us help you.” Asked the man with the luminous arm.

"It's not like we can fight any more.” I gave up, managing to get up at great cost.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Asked the man in the red coat.

“It's too far.” I said, almost losing my balance if it were not for the man with the luminous arm.

“Okay. Then let's go.” Said the man in the red coat, starting to walk.

“Where do you think you're taking me?!” Protested Inna.

"It's not on a date now, babe.” Replied the man in the red coat. “To my store.”

I followed him with the help of the man with the luminous arm. Fortunately, such a store was not far away. When we got there the man in the red coat sat Inna on the couch and I let myself sit on the floor without further strength.

“What do we do now?” Asked the man with the luminous arm concerned.

“That’s the question.” Said the man in the red coat, still thinking about it.

I remembered the artifact in the pocket of my coat and pulled it out to see if it was everything okay with it. Luckily it was intact and it felt good to have it in my hand. At that moment something occurred to me.

“Help me.” I asked the man with the luminous arm with a signal.

He was kind of confused yet it helped me to get up and get to Inna.

“What are you going to do?” Inna asked with a little fear. “You're dangerous.”

I laughed unhappily and then I said "I think you're going to want to bite something."

I put the bracelet on my right wrist and felt magic returning to my body, also lifting some of the tiredness. Inna was suddenly scared, yet there wasn’t much she could do. I placed my right hand over the bullet wound on her leg and created a kind of ice box around the bullet, since iron and magic do not mix. When I finished, I left a kind of handle coming out of the wound.

"Does anyone want to do the honors?" I asked.

"I think I'd better do it." Replied Inna after recovering from the pain created by the ice.

"Then whenever you want." I said. “Just pull.”

Inna picked it up and started to pull. It was better if it was pulled quickly, but the body wouldn’t respond as she wanted, although as she was doing so, I was using the magic of the artifact to drastically accelerate the healing process. When she had finished pulling, the wound was already closed.

“At least some luck in the middle of everything.” She said with some difficulty.

“It’s true. Who would have thought it was a supporting artifact.” I nodded.

The men were stunned to look at us. But I was still missing, which was going to be slightly more complicated. I defrosted my left shoulder and did the same thing I had done to Inna, the only difference being that I was feeling everything now. At the end of everything I fainted exhausted with everything that had happened that day.

When I woke up again, I was still on the floor, but there was a woman I did not know next to me, but she seemed to be taking care of me. She smiled to see that I was awake and announced “You’re awake.”

I sat down and checked the spot where I had taken the shot, seeing that it was flawless. I looked at her again and asked “Who are you?”

“Ah! Excuse. My name is Kyrie.” She said with a smile. “Your friend is awake too.”

I looked at the place she pointed out and saw Inna eating something that smelled pretty good, like she hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Ruby.” I introduced myself.

“Nice to meet you. Come on, you must eat too.” She said, taking my hands, leading me to the table where Inna was eating.

“Rin-chan!” She exclaimed, only realizing that I had woken up when I got to her.

“Heya.” I said back seeing what the food was.

“This food is fantastic.” Said Inna, eating more.

“Thanks.” thanked Kyrie.

I started to eat and saw that Inna was really right, that food was very good. We ended up eating everything that was there, which made Kyrie surprised, but at the same time very happy. That was also the time when the men arrived.

“We're home.” Announced the one with the luminous arm.

“Welcome back.” Kyrie said with a smile.

“Hey! Where is the food?!” Asked the man in the red coat, looking shocked at the table.

"They ate everything.” Kyrie answered.

“What do you mean?” Asked the man with the bright arm in disbelief.

We looked like two little children looking at them making innocent eyes, as if it were nothing to do with us.

"I've noticed that you two are already fine.” Concluded the man in the red coat.

“Ready for another.” Agreed Inna.

“Please no.” I asked.

We all laughed at each other, only getting Kyrie out because she wasn’t sure what had happened that night.

“We never got to introduce ourselves. Dante.” Announced the man in the red coat.

“Nero” said the Bright arm men.

“Inna.” Inna introduced herself.

“Ruby.” I introduced myself. "Thank you for helping us yesterday."

"Though that situation could have been avoided, if they hadn’t appeared.” Added Inna.

“We already apologized. Okay, babe?” Dante defended himself.

“My name is Inna. Remember it at least.” She asked.

“But it's true. If it was only me, I would’ve known at once you weren’t demons and none of this had happened.” Agreed Nero.

"Are you blaming me now, Kid?" Dante asked.

“I'm just stating a fact.” He defended himself.

"Just because you have an arm who can detect demons, doesn’t mean it illegals you from what happened yesterday. You're as guilty as I am.” Said Dante.

They started arguing there, if it had not been for me. Hearing that last piece of information about Nero's arm, I looked at Inna who had also been surprised. I went to his feet and took him by the hand and began to see the differences, causing him to be surprised.

“Excuse me.” I asked, dropping his hand. "Like I said yesterday you have a very interesting hand."

“Thanks?” He said, not sure what to say.

"Well ... Now that's settled. We can leave.” Said Inna, rising without further delay.

“True.” I nodded.

“Hey! What about my date?” Dante was shocked by the revelation.

“What date?” Asked Inna, confused. “Wait? Were you really serious yesterday?”

“Of course, Babe.” He answered without further delay.

"I'll think about it. It's just that I usually don’t accept invitations from guys who tried to kill me the night before.” Said Inna with a smile.

We all laugh at that situation, except for Dante.

"But what was that yesterday?" Asked Nero, still curious about what had happened.

We looked at each other, wondering if we should tell or not. But as they technically saved us, we thought it was the least we could do.

“Well ... If you ever need anything, call Devil May Cry.” Dante announced with a smile, sitting on his desk, putting his feet on top of it.

“Devil May Cry?” We both asked at the same time.

“That's where we are.” Replied Nero.

“Sure.” We agreed with a smile.

"And if you need…" Inna said, writing her number on a piece of paper.

“Babe! I mean, you don’t want to go out with me, but you give me your phone number.” Commented Dante.

"Just call if you have to, you idiot." She said, already a little irritated.

“Here.” I handed one with mine, too. "Usually we only steal magic artifacts, but whatever magic deals with, we accept."

“Even kill some demons.” Inna concluded.

We departed from them and left as if we had known each other long ago.

“Hey. Do you think he was really serious when he called me on a date?” Asked Inna on our way home.

“Who knows. Were you interested in him? For someone who wanted to kill him yesterday… it's a drastic change.” I commented.

“Shut it. He's hot.” Asked Inna.

“I know he is.” I agreed.

“And you, huh? Aren’t you interested in Nero?” Asked Inna.

“Even if I had. I'm sure that girl is his girlfriend.” He said without much ado.

“How do you know that?” She asked.

"The way they were looking at each other?" I replied.

"You're not so blind after all." Inna looked.

“HEY! If you already knew why you asked?!” I protested.

"You might not have noticed and said something like, He's so handsome I’m sure he has a girlfriend.” Inna explained.

“You ...” I was going to insult her.

“What? In love everything is worth. Never say no before you try.” She declared.

“Yeah yeah.”

And so we made our way to our houses, where we were still considering whether we stayed with an artifact as useful as that, or whether we would deliver it to the Academy of Magic.

[calmdowncolb]

I wrote a very dumb little short Seth/Finn story that I am calling a “A New York Christmas” and it is dedicated to and also a present for @artemidi who is my favorite human.

this is 2071 words of pure indulgent Christmas goodness. 

“Babe, come onnnnn.” Seth gently headbutted against Finn’s shoulder for the third time.

“Hey! You almost made me mess up the window frame!”

Finn was on a roll again.

He was sat at the dining room table, shoulders hunched and eyes intently staring at the gingerbread house before him. He held a bag of icing carefully, like a grand paint brush, as he decorated the side of the house with delicate loops. He had bowls of four different colored icings surrounding him, each with a butterknife stuck inside. A white plastic tray with different compartments held all sorts of colorful candies. Besides that was a box of toothpicks that Finn used for, in his words, “detailing”.

This was the third gingerbread house he had created that week.

Finn was inventive and creative all year-round, from the Lego masterpieces he could effortlessly create or the elaborate drawings he’d whip up when he had spare time.

Seth could watch him all day, if even just for the faces he made while applying details.

Today, however, Seth had a plan. A very important plan, at that! But it was never going to work out if Finn didn’t take a break from his work and pay attention to him.

“Where’s that foundation brush?” Finn asked, mumbling. He was only able to take a breath after he completed the row of delicate piping.

“The what?” Seth made a face.

“I bought like, a makeup brush so I could apply the edible glitter. You didn’t see it? I left it somewhere... “

“Baby, I wanna go pick out a tree.” Seth reminded him. Again. “Come on, you promised.”

Finn still didn’t look at his pouty partner. He was considering something… Perhaps changing the color scheme of the gumdrops on the roof or the placement of the candy reindeer on the cotton-candy front lawn.

“I know, baby, gimme ten minutes.” He said absently.

“I did! Thirty minutes ago!” Seth groaned and let his body fall into the chair next to Finn with a thud.

Finn finally shot him a glance, but only because of the way the table shook from impact. However, once he saw the pure despair painted all over the puppy-faced boy, he couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m sorry, hon.” Finn took Seth’s chin in hand. “You wanna go get ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” Seth gestured to himself. He was dressed cozy in a black sweater; his jeans ruffled slightly at his ankles to reveal the warm socks Finn had knitted him before starting his gingerbread craze.

Finn let out a sigh; more loving now.

“Alright, baby.” He, albeit reluctantly, gave his creation another look-over before pushing himself away from the table and padding back to their bedroom.

Apartments in New York City were known to be small, sometimes even cramped, but that didn’t bother the couple. Their bedroom was mostly just that… a room with a bed. The queen mattress took up the entire room, leaving only space for a walkway to the closet where their clothes hung.

A few garments of Seth’s were strewn over the comforter and floor. Finn, on his way to the closet, picked up one of the many black tee shirts and brought it to his nose to inhale the sweet residual smell of Seth’s skin.

In the dining room, Seth pounced on his opportunity.

He hadn’t been able to get enough privacy within their small space to pull his peacoat on and slip the box inside his pocket. It was slightly bigger than his fist and threatened to not fit at all, but with quiet and gentle perseverance, he tucked it in and snapped the pocket button closed. As if on cue, Finn came back out, now with a light grey sweater pulled over his muscled frame.

Cartoon-like, he walked past the table where his obsession sat, only to then walk backwards and re-examine it. With a look of horror, he snatched up a toothpick and went back to work, correcting some frosting or crunchy candy bit.

Seth’s hands fell flat to his sides from pure frustration.

“BABY.”

“Sorry, let’s go!”

~

Finn was already vaguely familiar with New York City after having visited a few times as a child. He had told Seth time and again the story of his first trip to Rockefeller Center and how he had been so entranced by the beauty of the magnificent Christmas tree there.

He knew the location of a local Christmas tree nursery after determination to make his own perfect tree lead to intensive research.

Seth’s new fascination with picking out a tree was an unexpected one. Being on the high-maintenance side, maybe even bratty sometimes, Finn didn’t think his boyfriend would want to seek out a freshly cut real tree. It would have to sit and relax in the apartment for a few days before they could even decorate it. Branches would have to be cut and reorganized, then sap would leak everywhere…

It just wasn’t Seth’s style.

Despite that, Finn was never one to complain. He knew without being told that Seth was probably only daring to leave his comfort zone for his own sake. Admittedly, it was cute.

With any other destination in mind, they could take an Uber, giving them the chance to make out in the backseat and make any local driver despise them. But since the tree would have to be escorted home, it was Seth’s turn to drive.

Finn, who must have had energy pent up from sitting and focusing on his gingerbread house for so long, incessantly poked and tickled at Seth’s ribs while he drove, earning playful scolds until finally his offending hand was captured and held for the remainder of the drive.

The nursery was a little out of the way from their tiny apartment, and finding parking was a nightmare, but Seth knew it would all be worth it in the end.

They stepped inside, hand-in-hand, after complimenting the white and gold lights that adorned the outside.

Inside, the lobby had four massive trees set up in each corner. They were decorated in different color schemes: silver and gold, red and green, blue and silver and rainbow. Classic Christmas tunes played over a speaker system.

Finn immediately gravitated to the blue and silver tree, ooh’ing and ahh’ing at the incredible sparkling lights and shiny orbs hanging from the branches.

Seth joined him in observation, but merely pretended to look while his hand made its way to inside his pocket to stroke at the hidden box inside.

The trees for sale were kept in a side room, accessed by a long hallway.

Inside, the smell of fresh pine instantly hit whoever entered like a smack.

The trees were set up in columns, each with their own stand, all held together by a metal fence. Little price tags were stuck to one branch of each tree.

A small station was set up in the center of the room, with an employee greeting and helping customers. At her table was mix to make hot cocoa and a plate of sugar cookies for anyone to grab. Seth and Finn shared a cookie and a few extra-sweet kisses as they shopped.

Being tender-hearted as always, Finn was instantly attached to a delicate looking tree. It was smaller than the rest and had a few bare spots from missing or twisted branches.

Seth, on the other hand, chose the tallest and strongest looking tree, not concerned with how it towered over his own body.

After an hour of playful bickering and teasing, and <i>several</i> laps around the entire room, they found and selected a beautiful happy medium- a 6 foot tall Fraser Fir, plump and gorgeous emerald green.

They informed the attendant of their selection and she happily called an assistant over to bag and carry the tree for the boys. They were told to head back to the lobby to pay and they raced each other there.

Instead of getting in line at the checkout desk, Finn returned to the silver and blue tree.

“Baby, pick out an ornament!” Seth suggested when he noticed.

“Really?” Finn looked back with a smile bright enough to envy the tree itself.

“Yeah! Somethin’ you can remember today with…”

Without another word, Finn grinned again and began fluttering around the tree, carefully considering and examining each ornament.

Seth now felt the weight of the box in his pocket, as if it were a hundred pounds. He pretended to look around the ornaments with his boyfriend, feeling his pores break a slight sweat as he waited for the perfect time.

“I like this one… and this one… Seth, they’re all wonderful, I dunno how I could ever choose…”

“Maybe there’s one over on the other trees you’d like more?” Seth heard his voice crack as his nerves seeped in. He quickly cleared his throat and for once, was thankful that Finn’s attention was not directed at him.

“Mmm… Maybe…” Finn drifted away, in the direction of the equally stunning rainbow tree in the opposite end of the room.

This was it. Seth’s chance had made itself known.

Hastily but carefully, he whipped the box from his pocket, looking frantically over his shoulder every five seconds or so. He opened the box, took the plastic ball out- an ornament of his own- and searched for an unoccupied branch to hang it on.

As if on cue, Finn returned a second later, muttering something about how he just liked this tree better.

Seth could feel every nerve in his body dancing about his skin. His stomach was performing somersaults as Finn went back to his searching. He pretended to hum along to Rob Thomas’ “A New York Christmas” until he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

“Baby… Wha-What about this one?” Seth stuttered.

“Which?” Finn perked up.

“Right here…” Seth pointed to what he had just planted on the tree.

Finn’s eyes followed the direction of his finger and when he noticed what had not been there a mere minute before, his jaw dropped open.

What was once a simple plastic ornament had been messily decorated with one of Finn’s own glitter glue pens from his many art projects.

In a brilliant blue glitter, nearly the same color as Finn’s own eyes, Seth had drawn on the ornament:

Finn, Will you marry me? 

“Oh… my... “ Finn brought his hands up to cover his agape mouth.

“Do you… like that one?” Seth offered, feeling the urge to cry or vomit or perhaps even both growing with each excruciating second that passed.

In a flash, Finn was on him.

Seth felt strong legs wrap around his waist as his face was assaulted with wet kisses.

Wet, both from the patternless frenzy Finn’s lips made and from the tears that spilled from his eyes, down his cheeks, and all over Seth.

“Yes, yes! Of course, yes!” Finn cried into Seth’s ear. His words were interrupted both by hiccups and giggles as he continued his loving attack.

“I love you, I love you…” Seth repeated like a holy mantra as he patted and rubbed Finn’s back.

The other customers in the lobby must have caught on to what had happened, as a chorus of ‘aww’ sounded. A few people even applauded.

Seth and Finn heard them but could not stop to acknowledge. They were much too busy exchanging kisses and I love you’s over and over until their lips and voices were sore.

Finn reached over Seth’s shoulder to pluck the homemade ornament from its branch. He stared at it, sloppy handwriting and glitter smudges included, as if it was made of pure gold- like nothing in the world was more precious.

“This is the most beautiful ornament I’ve ever seen…” He whispered so only Seth could hear.

“For the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen.” Seth said, grinning against Finn’s ear before giving it a bite.

Finn, not seeming as if he was even considering climbing down from Seth’s chest, squeezed his shoulders a little tighter.

He brought the still-plain side of the ornament to his lips to kiss it before nuzzling his head under Seth’s neck.

No matter if the gingerbread house at home was still a work in progress- their plans for the night would now be dedicated to celebrating what would surely be the most blissful marriage and the happiest Christmas they had ever experienced.

[tehlaen]

...The Next of Us To Go (Pt. 2 of 3)

[tl;dr: Teh’laen, age 22, deals with loss of friends and loved ones as a reality of life as a mercenary. Part one is here and here’s part three.]

“They’re late.”

Teh mumbled the words into the mike. It was wholly unnecessary to keep her voice down, but it was hard to shake habits instilled growing up as a thief on the Smuggler’s Moon. She relaxed her grip on the high-powered macrobinoculars and rubbed her eyes. Without the inertia of acceleration or the small fighter’s artificial gravity, the device hung in space and started a lazy tumble along its axis. Her breath plumed in the cold of the cockpit and Teh’laen was glad she’d thought to slip a thermal wrap around her lekku.

The big asteroid on the very edge of the system’s debris field was highly magnetic and  stable, with a steady rotation that allowed her an unimpeded line of sight and provided an excellent vantage to observe the—supposed—arrival point of the 533rd Strike Wing.

To avoid giving away her position—and thus spoiling the ambush—Teh’laen had shut down all but the barest of essential systems on her Nova Dive fighter. Her cockpit had enough breathable air to last her a few more hours. With the environmental controls turned down to just above freezing, she wasn’t comfortable, but her insulated flightsuit kept her warm. 

With a minimal heat signature, practically zero emissions, and a state-of-the-art electronic countermeasures suite, her starship was practically indistinguishable from the highly-metallic rocks floating all around.

The need for secrecy ruled out using her ship’s sensors. Aside from the power signature, active scans would give her away instantly, and even passive sweeps could tip off the Imps. So here she sat—floated—waiting for their targets, keeping watch with nothing but macrobinoculars and her two eyes.

“They’re late,” she repeated, for the sixth time since the deadline expired.

“That’s inconsiderate of them.” Nay’s voice came back a couple of seconds later; even as staticky as the transmission was, the dry snark came through clear as day. “Two points here: We’re at T-plus twenty-three minutes. That hardly even counts as late.”

Teh’laen rolled her eyes, snagged the tilting macrobinocs and brought them to her eyes again. “What’s the other point?”

“Are you really gonna teach a seminar on punctuality?”

Teh could practically hear the Bothan’s grin, and she found herself mirroring it in response. “Shut up,” she shot back goodnaturedly.

Teh’laen winced as a sharp burst of static cut into the channel. Comm signals were something else that could give away her position, so instead of broadbeam transmissions, she was reporting back to the rest of the Stormriders via a line-of-sight relay. The relay wasn’t much more than a sphere the width of her shoulders, housing a drastically down-powered version of her ship’s laser cannons and tethered to her fighter like a kite. Because it was line of sight, it was functionally impossible for anyone else to detect or intercept the transmission without physically interposing themselves between Teh’laen’s ship and Nalo’s.

An unfortunate side effect, though, was that cosmic debris—dust, micrometeorites and so on—could disrupt the link, and an asteroid field by definition consisted solely of debris.

Essix squashed the static before it could leave her ears ringing, and she switched the ship’s internal link to mutter her thanks. She switched back to the relay and, after a long pause, asked, “Hey, Nay?”

He took a moment to respond, and Teh briefly wondered if the signal was delayed or if her lover and leader of her flight was going to scold her for not using proper comm protocol on a private channel while on a mission.

If he was irritated, he swallowed it. “Yes?”

Teh scanned the swath of space where the ships of the Imperial Navy’s 533rd Strike Wing were scheduled to have appeared twenty-three minutes—twenty-four now—ago. “Where does this intel come from?”

“No idea. So long as it’s good, I don’t really care either.”

The corners of the Twi’lek’s lips turned down in a scowl. “Well, that’s stupid of you.”

“I don’t—”

Teh ran him over. “If, despite appearances, this information turns out to be reliable… This is some high-level stuff, Nay. Secret bases, a rendezvous in an uninhabited system, an Imp squadron’s operational details? The kriffing coordinates where they’ll drop out of lightspeed, for fuck’s sake? You don’t get that from some pirate bragging to a joy-boy at Vethal’s place or eavesdropping on the spacers at the other end of the bar.”

Lieutenant Brosh didn’t say anything for a long moment. Was he running the numbers, seeing how it all added up—or didn’t add up, as the case may be?

Or could it be that he was making an effort not to do the math? Did he know something, something he was intentionally keeping from her?

“The captain hasn’t told me,” he finally replied, “and I don’t know if I’ll be asking anytime soon.”

The flesh around the Lethan Twi’lek’s eyes tightened. Before she could presses, the green border framing the macrobinoculars’ field of view flashed gold. Once, twice…

One Imperial fighter appeared in-system, then another. The gold frame flashed another twenty-two times, confirming her own mental tally.

“Contact.”  Teh kept her voice level, but she felt the cold spike of adrenaline flush through her bloodstream. “I count twenty-four Imperial fighters.” She read off the coordinates and heading, then added, only somewhat grudgingly, “…just like our intel said.”

“Copy, Lightning Three.” Brosh’s voice was suddenly cool and professional, but their intimate familiarity made the nervous tightness in his inflection plainly evident. “As soon as the enemy’s engaged, I want you to loop back around to our withdrawal corridor and rejoin the squadron.”

Purple eyes blinked in disbelief. “Say again, Lightning One.”

“You heard me, Three.”

“That makes no sense, Lead! They’re gonna fly right past me. I’ll have a clear shot at their backs!”

“Negative, Three,” Brosh shot back sharply. “You have your orders.”

Muscles bunched at the Twi’lek’s jaw and she gritted her teeth. “If they’re good—and by all reports, they are—they’re gonna lay down mines and drones to keep their escape route open. I power up, hit ‘em from the rear, and close off their retreat.”

“Dammit, Three, I said no. You’ll be alone and surrounded by enemy fighters. It’s too dangerous.”

Her purple eyes narrowed and her lips peeled back off clenched, sharply-pointed teeth. “That’s the job. Would you be giving that order if it wasn’t me, Nay?”

“That is an excellent question,” Captain Kranik cut in on the channel, “and one we’re going to discuss at great length. But that’s a conversation for later.”

Teh winced and swore under her breath. The relay she and Nay were using was hyperdirectional and point-to-point, sure. But in hindsight, it made perfect sense for the leader of the Stormriders’ scout flight to loop in the squadron leader via a short-range, tight-beam link.

“Aye, Captain,” Teh’laen answered, and Nalo added, “Copy, Tempest One,” a half-second later.

“Lightning Three?” Nalo ground out through gritted teeth, smoldering anger in the words.

“Three here.”

“We’ll do it your way. Once the enemy’s in the kill-box, power up and cut off their escape.”

She wasn’t sure she managed it, but Teh’laen at least made an effort to keep any triumph out of her voice. Even if she’d felt like gloating, the promised—threatened, more like—dressing-down from Selka put a damper on her mood.

And besides. I’ve got a job to do.

“Roger that, Lightning One. Lightning Three, over and out.”

Essix toodled at her over the ship’s intercom. She snorted and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he does sound pissed, doesn’t he?” Teh snagged the binocs and stowed them, then began mentally running through a final check. “Don’t have time to worry about it now,” she mumbled. Gloved fingers tightened safety straps, then gave un-powered switches and the control stick experimental wiggles.

Last thing I need’s a frozen control panel, she thought to herself. Aloud, she said, “Reel in the relay if you can; otherwise cut it loose. Then prep for a hot-boot.”

The astromech warbled disapprovingly and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know it’s rough on the reactor and the capacitor. But I need engines, weapons and shields, in that order, and I need ‘em fast. We don’t have time to follow every step in the operator’s manual for a proper boot sequence. I know what I’m doing.”

Essix’s bleated, derisive reply didn’t merit a response, but Teh still found herself muttering under her breath, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Gloved fingertips rested lightly—but no less anxiously on the switches that would bring her Nova Dive scout craft’s reactor to life. Without the magnification from the macrobinocs, the Imp fighters were hard to pick out, but the bright flares from their engines were easy enough to track. Even as battle-weary as they doubtlessly had to be, the Imperial pilots kept alert. Their scouts formed a vanguard as they made their way into the asteroid field, with the squadron’s strike fighters and bombers keeping formation in their wake.

The enemy craft passed within a hundred kilometers of Teh’s powered-down ship—spitting distance, in interstellar terms. If any of them spotted her, she’d be vaporized before she could even fire up her engines.

It was terrifying and exhilarating.

Teh’laen held her breath as the rear guard—a pair of bombers, one missing a wing and the other running on only two of its four engines—entered the asteroid field and she lost sight of them.

Not yet…

Teh craned her neck, peering this way and that, straining to see among the floating rocks toward where the rest of her squadron lay in wait.

A bright flash illuminated the asteroids all around, as if a new star had just flared to life in the center of the kill-box the Stormriders had established.

“Now!” Teh’s fingers jabbed at her control board and muscle memory took over.

The magnetic clamps securing her to the asteroid deactivated. The Nova Dive began to drift lazily away. Her control boards flickered to life and presented her with nothing but a sea of angry red warning lights. In the seat of her pants, though, transmitted through the spaceframe and the pilot’s chair, she felt the vibration as the reactor began the first phase of its ignition sequence.

Come on, come on, she thought, eyes fixed on the power readout for her engines. Red faded to yellow, then a flashing green as Essix directed all available power to the engines. The reactor, in its first stage, was only running about about twenty percent capacity, but it was enough to get her moving.

She nudged the stick and the maneuvering thrusters pointed the nose of her ship into open space. Teh’laen’s lips peeled off her teeth in a wild grin and her amethyst eyes gleamed in anticipation.

Her fingers closed around the throttle. She took a deep breath, then threw the throttle to the firewall.

The sudden acceleration threwher back into the cushioned command chair and her breath exploded from her lungs. The mouthful of pointed teeth gave her wild grin a distinctly feral edge. Grey tendrils writhed at the edges of her vision as the underpowered inertial dampeners struggled to compensate for the brutal G-forces.

The Twi’lek sucked in air, then let out a joyous whoop. She jerked the control stick and arced the fighter out in a wide loop, barreling into the asteroid field along the same course set by the Imperial ships. Dead ahead she spotted the two trailing bombers. She’d caught them in the process—just as she’d suspected—of laying down missile drones and seeker mines to cover the Imp retreat. Engines flared as the two enemy ships spotted her bearing down on them at full speed.

Even in peak condition, the bombers handled like drunken banthas compared to her nimble scout craft. They struggled to come about so they could bring weapons to bear. Graceful, they weren’t, but each of the two carried enough ordnance to reduce Teh’laen, Essix, and her ship to a rapidly expanding cloud of their component atoms.

And Teh’s ship didn’t even have its shields up.

“Essix, I need weapons!”

The flashing-gold light showing weapon charge for her laser cannons pulsed twice and burned a steady green. The crosshairs for her primary weapons blazed to life on her HUD, bracketed a second and half later by the reticle for her missiles. The button for the EM pulse projector strobed blue.

“Good boy!” she crowed. Hardly waiting for a target lock, Teh dropped the reticle for her ion missiles on the bomber—tagged Aurek by her sensors—and stroked the trigger. The projectile streaked to its target. It exploded in a miniature blue nova and took Aurek’s shields with it.

Blazing bolts from her cannons followed  the missile, chewing through already-weakened armor. One bolt found the bomber’s magazine and touched off the munitions. The black void of space turned to the brightness of the noonday sun and when the flash subsided, the enemy ship was gone.

Alarms screamed at her: Mines and missile drones were targeting her from point-blank range. She slapped the flashing blue button on her console. The lights on her control panels dimmed briefly, the alarms went silent and she grinned to herself. The EM pulse had fried the nearby automated defenses. Teh’laen snapped her crosshairs from one shorted-out mine or missile launcher to the next, grinning fiercely as she cleaned them up, one by one.

Oh, sithspit.

The other of the two bombers—Besh—charged directly at her. Heavy cannons spat hard light at her and she whipped her fighter into a tight roll. Besh’s lasers filled the space around her with hellish bolts.

All it takes is one until I’ve got shields.

As if drawn magnetically by the thought, a pair of laser blasts blazed toward her. Time slowed to a crawl. She could tell, instinctively, that they’d converge on her cockpit.

Oh, well.

Her eyes didn’t even have time to close—so she was still watching as the two bolts splashed harmlessly over her deflector shields.

“Yes!” she whooped. The two craft slashed past each other with barely ten meters between them. Teh kicked her fighter around in an almost impossibly tight turn that the heavy bomber couldn’t even come close to matching.

Cannons blazed. Laser bolts burned through shields, armor and spaceframe. The Imperial ship came apart in flight; the biggest chunks didn’t even make a dent in the asteroid they plowed into.

With the trap sprung, battle joined, and secrecy abandoned, Teh flicked her comm on.

“Lightning Three here,” she cut in on her flight’s channel. “Their escape route’s been cut off.”

“Nice work, Three.” Nalo’s voice was strained—not surprising in combat. “We left some for you.”

She smirked and cranked her sensors to their max range. The readout marked the closest six enemy contacts and she brought her fighter around to intercept. “That was nice of you.”

It didn’t last long. Teh swept her eyes over her sensors. More than half of the Imps were destroyed; the rest were being routed. She didn’t particularly like the idea of shooting up fleeing pilots, so she looked for enemy fighters still engaged. Her eyes narrowed—

“Help!”

Nay’s squawking call cut through Lightning Flight’s comm channel. Teh whipped her head around, searching frantically—then swore vehemently.

The enemy pilot, whoever they were, was good. The Imp scout clung to the tail of Nay’s Flashfire stubbornly, green lasers chewing away inexorably at the Bothan’s shields. Nay juked and spun and rolled; he might as well have tried to shake his own shadow.

He’s panicking, Teh realized. The Imp, though, knew exactly what they were doing. Lightning One’s pursuer had separated him from the rest of the squadron and was herding him toward the edge of the asteroid field. Ducking around the asteroids kept the Imp from getting a solid missile lock on Nay’s ship.

But once he’s out in the open…

“Nay!” she called urgently. “I’m coming! But you've got to turn around! Do a 180 and bring ‘em back toward me!”

If Nay had heard her, he gave no indication.

Teh’laen swore and shunted all power from shields to engines. The Nova Dive leapt forward to close the distance.

Ahead of her, Nalo’s fighter broke out of the protective shelter of the debris field. Her eyes flicked to the numbers counting down the distance between her and the Imp.

Almost in range, come on, come on…!

“Nay, turn ba—!”

Her missile reticle flashed red. Teh’laen and the Imperial pilot loosed their missiles at precisely the same moment.

The Imp’s proton torpedo streaked at Nalo’s fighter from less than a kilometer away. Barely a second passed between exiting the missile tube and entering the exhaust port of Nalo Brosh’s starboard engine. The explosive detonated an instant later and the fighter’s reactor went critical.

The flash momentarily blinded Teh’laen, and when her vision cleared, Nalo Brosh was simply gone.

Teh’laen clamped her throat around her reaction. She swallowed and it dropped into the pit of her stomach like a lead weight.

Her amethyst eyes followed her own missile as it streaked toward the Imperial fighter. The enemy pilot’s frantic juking and turning and rolling didn’t deter the ion missile in the slightest. It exploded in a cerulean burst. The Imperial fighter’s power systems—already pushed to their very limits—simply collapsed as the ion wave washed over the starship. Its engines went dark and Teh watched, numb, as inertia kept it moving along its ballistic trajectory.

Normally, Teh’laen wouldn’t even consider shooting a crippled, defenseless enemy.

Today, she didn’t even pause to consider.

Her thumbs stabbed the triggers for her laser cannons.

“Nay, baby,” she murmured softly as she wheeled her ship back toward the rest of the squadron, “at least you’ll have company.”

[gregoryjdillerblr]

2020: Pandemic, Murder Hornets, Riots and Protests, Monoliths, and the Rise of TikTok and OnlyFans.

2020 sure has been a strange and difficult year. Like everybody else, I was really looking forward to enter the new decade, the 2020s. My goal was to get on my own two feet and seek out a publisher to publish my books, something I have been wanting to do for many years now but kept pushing off because I was taking a hiatus and stuck in daydreaming of it happening instead of actually trying. Of course I’m doing it now, re-editing my novels while writing a new project, as well as seeking publishers to publish short stories with. But I’m here talking about 2020, since it’s near the end of an odd year

I remember back in December, riding the bus to the mall, where one crazy passenger was telling the bus driver that there was a virus wiping out China, that they were dropping like flies, and that Bill Gates was behind it all. My first thought was that this guy was fucking crazy; even the bus driver seemed to be annoyed by him. The man kept repeating himself all throughout the bus ride, and I couldn’t tell you how many times he said that this was Bill Gates doing, and that China was being wiped out.

A few months went by, and the Coronavirus found its way to the Untitled States. I am a movie goer, and I remember watching The Hunt in theaters just when the virus was hitting the US, me posting my movie ticket on my social media accounts that I wasn’t going to let the virus stop me watching the movie. Little did I know The Hunt was going to be the last movie I ever saw in theaters, and that Regal Cinemas would be closing theaters for good in the following months. I live near downtown Ithaca, NY, and the movie theater that was nearby in the Commons was Cinemapolis, who play a lot of more independent films than mainstream films. It was in this theater I watched films like Climax, Color Out of Space, The Lighthouse. Of course, the theater was forced to shut down. It’s still in the air whether the place has closed down for good or wait to reopen. Now I pass it and see the inside of it (the entire front is glass), noticing they had torn floorboards up and remodeling the place. 

I streamed films, paying the rent from as low as $6 to $20. I like to review, to talk about the films (and books I’ve read) I’ve watched recently. It’s the nerd in me that wants to talk about art and storytelling. It was cool seeing the films that were supposed to be in theaters at home. But knowing that these films were supposed to be in theaters, I couldn’t help but feel that I was missing that experience, to go to a theater, to pick out a seat (it’s usually in the middle for me), hoping to see new movie trailers I haven’t seen before, and experience the film in surround sound and on the big screen (I’m not a popcorn guy, I don’t buy it). 

Some films have been pushed back while others were streamed. I’m still waiting films like the wendigo horror flick Antlers, Godzilla Vs. Kong, The Conjuring 3, Tenet. HBO Max has announced it will stream three of the four films. Antlers was my biggest anticipated horror film of the year, and I still hope to God they would eventually stream the film rather than push it back. 

I work in retail. I was a department manager until about half way into the year, and when the whole pandemic started, there was a high demand to keep up with the flow of the almost endless flow of customers. When businesses were forced to shut down, people began to shop out of boredom. The store I work at saw an increase flow of customers. One of my good buddies and coworker told me that he helped a college girl who told him this was her very first time shopping, and she didn’t know how prices of meat work. Our store then laid down stickers to try to control customer flow, which aisle they are allowed to enter and which aisle they didn’t. Half the customers listened to the signs, and the other half didn’t. For those that didn’t, I pinpointed the signs out, and the main response I got was, “Oh, I didn’t see that there.” Eventually it got so common I stopped trying to pinpoint it out. I was a department manager, but I couldn’t enforce it like the upper management, but even they stopped trying, because there wasn’t really anything we could do to enforce it. 

Some customers got mad at other customers who weren’t wearing masks. Some of them argued. Some of them shouted at employees when customer hosts ask if they could give them a mask if they came in without one. It got so bad to the point that the store had to hire a third party security to help enforce the mask rules. But as of right now, there really isn’t much anybody to do to enforce it unless it’s enforced by state law. 

Because customers fear of going inside, online shopping saw a huge increase in sales. It got to the point that we department managers were called to help the online pickup crew. The lead manager over online pickup approved overtime, and a few of us were allowed to go in two hours ahead of our shift and help them out, just trying to fulfill orders the best we can. 

Toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning wipes, hand soap and sanitizers, rubbing alcohol, and Clorox and Lysol cleaners were wiped out. We saw many shelves emptied, naked to their metal frames where product was supposed to be. The company limited to a certain number of selected items so it was fare for all customers to buy, but the getting the supplies became difficult. Warehouses were getting low, and some even ran out of products that till this very day they are still out of. I was in charge of the frozen food section in my store, and I began to see a trend of what items were being wiped clean. Can fruits and vegetables were hit hard in the grocery department. The frozen fruits and vegetables were next. Everyday I had pull and breakdown a lot of emptied display boxes, and praying that the products would be coming soon. 

Things have slowed down, when businesses were up and running again, but to this day we are still having difficulties in getting some supplies in, or keep on the shelves. Toilet paper and paper towels slowed down, as well as hand sanitizers and soap, but good luck trying to get cleaning wipes and air sprays. Those are still gold.

With a pandemic comes the consequences of unease. When George Floyd was killed while a police officer was kneeing on him, suffocating him, the United States blew up with riots and protests. Major cities saw riots, businesses burning down. Police were shooting rubber bullets into crowds, including journalists. We saw much more police brutality in the videos that have gone viral. Police pushing elderly folks, cracking one’s head open in Buffalo, a city that’s just about three hours away where I live. In Rochester, a city that’s two hours away from me, saw some riot damage but nothing compared to those in other cities. In Ithaca, we only saw protests, nothing breaking out into riots, however, police did arrest a few protesters one night, after some of them blocked their way when the police were trying to rush to a crime scene. 

Some rioters took advantaged. They targeted business owners and killed them on the spot. Some injured police officers, and some protesters managed to block them before rioters got the chance to kill them. A retired police chief was killed while responding to a jewelry and pawn shop being robbed. Young 17 year old Kyle Rittenhouse killed two people and injured a third while trying to act as a mercenary for the police.  

Coronavirus cases spiked from large gathering of crowds, as America seemed to be on the heels of an apocalypse, torn apart by civil unrest. Protests were not only happening in the United States but in other countries as well, each trying trying to fight what is right. Videos have gone viral showing how police use their power in position, though some of them prove that some officers do what is right. I won’t go into much details about the riots and the protests. I do believe some police officers shouldn’t be police officers. I do know a few in my personal life, some of them more strict than others, but they are nevertheless good people; we just need a better system to separate the bad from the good.

Before George Floyd was killed, Asian Murder Hornets found their way across the ocean. In Washington State, a beekeeper noticed his hive was killed, their heads chopped off. He then collected the predator. It was confirmed to be an Asian Giant Hornet. There was then the fear that I saw online that these hornets were already their way across America, and a couple of my Facebook friends have had claimed they saw them in New York State. Because of George Floyd being killed wrongfully, the murder hornets became old school news. However, in October, there was the first confirmed case of a murder nest in Washington. It is believed the hornets have arrived on ships, since they cannot cross the ocean just by simply flying. 

During all of this, the US Government have confirmed that UFOs exist, providing us declassified footage. But we became forgotten about it, haven’t we?  Because deep down we already knew UFOs existed. 

As if 2020 couldn’t get weirder by the end of it, a silver monolith was found in Utah. It became instant news, as many people claim it was aliens that have planted the monolith there. Once it was all over the media, the monolith disappeared, but soon after there was one that had suddenly “popped” up in Europe. When that got viral, that monolith disappeared and another one came up in California. I figured it was a group of underground people on the internet discussing their plans to make 2020 weirder than it already was, and recently an Instagram post confirmed this, as the artist of the monolith in Utah is now trying to sell it. Sorry, guys, not really an X-File case. 

There were also the California wildfires that burned 4,359,517 acres of land, from 9,279 fires. California seemed to be suffocating with black smoke as fires rage. The smoke eventually reached across the nation. New York City was seen in a fog like state. Viral videos showed mountains of fire, as many forests were perished. Many were forced to evocate their homes, which many were left to burn. Homes and lives destroyed. As if things weren’t apocalyptic enough in 2020.

TikTok saw an increase. People began to make viral videos and challenges on the popular app. We see people making comedy videos. We see people make music videos. We see stupid challenge videos, trying to make a challenge go viral. We see people try to get though the day, no matter how difficult it was for them. Social media is a powerful tool these days, and the TikTok app seems to be one of the more recent ones that can make you instant internet famous, despite that countries are trying to ban it because the app was created by the Chinese. I do plan on getting TikTok shortly, if they don’t ban it (which I honestly think they won’t, but we’ll see). 

Another increase in popularity is the much more controversial website OnlyFans. Since many were forced to go jobless when businesses were shut down, many turned towards online to make money. OnlyFans was growing, but 2020 bloomed the website. Popular celebrities began to turn toward it, rather to release behind the scenes of photoshoots, songs, exercise tips, etc. Of course, OnlyFans is known for its popularity in the ever increasing of nudes or pornographic like content. Famous adult entertainers to maybe the girl next door use OnlyFans to earn money as they sell sexual content on the site. Because this is being 2020, and people are stuck in homes or single and the difficulties of dating someone, OnlyFans is a way to release that sexual tension, and those that are releasing content to make money. However you want to view it, OnlyFans is popping up everywhere on social media, and it’s a site that isn’t going away anytime soon.

Looking back at 2020 now, it has been a fast and surreal year. Liker everybody, I hope this pandemic goes away soon, despite that it’s looking like it may end next summer, the way they are predicting. I hope whoever is having difficulty that 2021 would be much more positive, that things will work out together. My message overall is this: please be kind to one another. Times are tough right now. Be positive, smile under your mask, and things will work out in the end. Cheers. 

[betweenpaperpages]

Hear Me Still - Chapter Three

A new store-front is set to open on main street in Storybrooke and with it brings new resident Mr. Gold to the center of attention. While he looks forward to this new step in business, it is yet unknown if his deafness will set him back once again.

Beta: @ishtarelisheba

Read on AO3!

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two]

Chapter Three: Shut Down to A Whisper

A vintage apothecary case sat on the glass counter in front of Marcus. The cherry wood had been brought back to a gleaming shine while each hinge and drawer and been carefully revived to working order.

It was certainly a piece that Marcus had pride in. However, parting with the item wasn’t what left him standing opposite the pharmacist looking baffled.

Mr. Clark, the towns ironically, chronically ill pharmacist, sneezed once again where he stood in the shop.

Had that been sneeze number six or seven? His eyes shifted over to Jefferson who was speaking with a young woman with long black hair pulled back in two intricate ponytails, seemingly discussing a sword on the counter between them.

“I - I need to - t-t-o-o-o-” Mr. Clark sneezed into his handkerchief once again.

Marcus’ eyes darted over to Jefferson once again, his breathing picking up in speed, his thumb and forefingers rubbing together as he tired to calm his rising anxiety.

“Bless you!” Jefferson called, walking over to stand at Marcus’ side. He grinned as he leaned his forearm on his shorter friend casually. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Whale about that, hmm?”

Mr. Clark tucked away his handkerchief as he nodded. “Yes well -- “

“Oh! Are you snagging up this piece?” Jefferson questioned, pulling away from Marcus. “ I had a friend with his eye on it for a while when it was listed online. He’s going to be disappointed to hear someone beat him to it!”

Jefferson reached out to snag the tag off the antique, gesturing towards the other counter. “Let me get you rung up.”

Mr. Clark nodded wordlessly and followed him over to the register without a word of protest, leaving Mr. Gold to his own devices.

xxxxx

The rest of the morning had gone fairly smoothly after that. The customers had adored Grace along with her baked goods. It really had added to the ‘small town’ atmosphere in just the right way.

While he wouldn’t consider it a booming success, he wouldn’t call it a failure either. The traffic of the town folk was steady throughout the day, all curious about the new shop and to see its wears. By the end of the day the shop had done fairly well with sales, as Marcus predicted, the smaller items were in larger demand. However, a first time customer could turn into a long-term customer, and with items being added on a weekly basis they would return.

With Jefferson and Grace at his side he was able to navigate the trickier tricker parts of communication with customers. Although Jeff shot him a look when he refused to sign while one was in the room. He had a feeling they would have a discussion about that later on.

Grace had even offered up helpful hints as to what each person had hobbies and interests in. When asked why she knew such details, she simply chalked it up to being a spy. The idea of little Grace dressed all in black being lowered from the ceiling of the National Museum of Natural History in order to steal the Hope Diamond only added to the humor of the idea.

The pair of them had been a dream team and Marcus couldn’t complain when it came time to get Grace home and fed dinner. He gave them both a tight hug before waving them off, promising that he would be home after the shop closed for the night.  

Marcus had sat down in the back for a short break after making a cup of tea when the high-pitched ringing of the bell above the door caught his attention. The sound was within his hearing rage, even without his hearing aids, so he had opted not to get an alert and notification system.

With a sigh he set his cup aside on the desk knowing it would end up ice cold and untouched, quickly heading out to the sales floor to greet the customer.

“Good —”

Marcus stopped short of his greeting as his eyes landed on the petite brunette that was currently browsing the shop. She didn’t seem to have heard him as she was absorbed in studying the objects and art throughout the shop.

Her chestnut brown curls framed her face as they cascaded over her shoulders, standing out in contrast against the light gray cardigan, layered over a floral blouse. The top was tucked neatly into a pleated black box skirt and while tights hid her shapely legs they lead down to a pair of tall stilettos.  

He opened his mouth again to speak just as her focus shifted, her gaze landing on him, finally picking up on the fact someone else was in the room.

“Hello!” she greeted, her smile large and warm.

Marcus was hopeless in doing anything but returning it in kind, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he glanced away for a moment. He hadn’t meant to stare, but nodded in reply to her greeting.

“I saw your hours posted outside but I didn’t have a chance to come by earlier. You just opened today, right?”

He moved a tad closer to the woman, standing behind the counter as he lowered his gaze to her lips. She had a warm and rich accent with vowels that were just a bit to wide and open to catch everything she said clearly.

A nod seemed to satisfy her when he caught on to a few words, reaching behind his right ear to turn up the volume on the hearing aid, careful not to expose it from under his shaggy hair.

“I’ve only been here a couple minutes and it's already like I’ve taken a trip around the world! You have so many things here, there must be so many stories behind all if it.” Her lips spread into a smile with a light giggle following them.

“I’m Belle, by the way. Belle French.” She offered out her hand across the counter for him to accept, shaking his in turn. “You must be Mr. Gold. I run the library across the street.”

Marcus looked up to her eyes to make contact, finding the various shades and hues of glittering blue in them impossible to describe. He only had a moment to take them in before his attention dropped back to her lips, doing his best to read them; trying and failing not to notice how soft they looked.

“Do you collect all of this yourself? How far do you travel for your work?” Belle questioned, walking down the length of the counter, her fingers lightly ghosting over a few items on display. “Must have taken you a lifetime to bring all of this together…”

Belle stopped to observe a rather intricately detailed gold-metal clock that sat on the counter, steadily ticking as it tracked the minutes and hours across its face. With the hands reading downwards to display that it was five thirty-seven, it offered the appearance of a mustache.

“This is French, is it not?” she questioned, looking over her shoulder.

Marcus’ brows furrowed together until he caught onto the word ‘French’ and offered a nod of confirmation. Her warm voice was enjoyable to listen to yet her Australian accent threw not only his hearing off, but his lip-reading as well.

All accents caused people to have unique vocalizations but also different mouth positions when speaking… and reading an Australian accent was not something he had much practice with.

“France is on my list of places to travel,” Belle explained, “considering its my namesake it seemed an obvious country to visit.” She looked back to the timepiece, reading the hands once again.

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry, Mr. Gold! I wasn’t paying attention to the time at all, I’ve kept you past closing time.” Belle adjusted the strap of her purse where it was hanging on her shoulder before offering him another smile, heading towards the door.

His eyes flicked up across her face to read her expression only to be drawn back to her mouth, finding that it shared the same delighted look as the rest her.

“Looks like I’ll have to add your shop to my travel plans as well,” she noted with a chuckle. “It’s a great deal closer than France. Have a good evening, Mr. Gold.” Belle waved before she stepped out of the shop, the door closing behind her.

Marcus released a long breath that he hadn’t known he was holding, allowing himself to be in the moment to decompress the whirlwind that was Belle French.

Out of everything that Marcus had predicted to happen that day, one or two of them had come true; being left breathless and dumbfounded had not been one of them.

Chapter Notes:

An alert and notification system is typical a visual system (via the use of lights) to notify a deaf individual about an event or action. Most commonly these are set up as doorbells and fire alarms, but have also expanded into baby monitors, telephones, and other safety features.)

[allenmendezsr]

Affirmations Software - Sculptor3

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Affirmations Software - Sculptor3

 Buy Now

    “Name the Top 3 Things You Want in Life…

  …then use your computer for 10 minutes a day to make them come true”

 That’s right. If you can spare just 10 minutes a day – I’ll show you the secret to living the life of your dreams! 

Dear Success-Seeking Friend

Professional magicians never fail to amaze. They mystify you with magic tricks that defy explanation — and make seemingly impossible things happen before your very eyes. They’re masters of illusion and sleight of hand.

Now, I’m about to tell you about a different kind of magic that’s even more amazing because it’s not about illusion — but rather, something deeply rooted in science.

But first, I want you to name the top 3 things you desire to have, or wish to improve, in your life right now — examples: money (name the specific amount you want), a loving relationship, an ideal job, perfect health, your dream house, a brand new car, etc.

 (Type the 3 things you desire in the box below.)  Okay, are you done typing the 3 things you want?

File your answers in the back of your mind. We’ll come back to them later.

What if I told you that there’s a way that you can achieve those 3 things — and anything else you desire — by using the power of your computer for just 10 minutes a day.

Would you want to know more? Of course you would, who wouldn’t…

…Well read on because in the next few minutes, I will show you an advanced technology that enables you to manifest everything you want through the results-amplifying use of computerization. This information is not available anywhere else on the Web — or the world, for that matter. So I urge you to read every word of this article because the secret that can single-handedly turn your desires into reality is hidden in this web page — and I don’t want you to miss it.

Here Are 3 Testimonials From The Many Hundreds of Letters We Have Received From Satisfied Customers

“”Well, well, well… I purchased the Sculptor Method in January of this year”

“I love the Sculptor Method and has it worked for me? HA! I began using it immediately. I modified some of the affirmations that came with it and used it faithfully. I live on the Gulf of Mexico Coast in Florida USA and wanted to move to the high desert of New Mexico. My husband and I drew up a list of what our “perfect home” in New Mexico would look like (size, price, views, affordability etc.). I incorporated this into the daily affirmations….

We had free plane tickets given to us in February and used them to go to New Mexico. We visited 3 different towns that appealed to us. We found the house we had written about and affirmed for—including the attached art studio. We were astoundedly happy and asked the people if they would allow us to buy their home contingent on us selling our home here. They said yes. March 1, I began affirmations about selling our current home “to the right buyers for the right price bringing perfect satisfaction to all”. The real estate market is verrrrry slow here right. Our home sold in 7 weeks–no other houses in this town are selling. We are moving to our new “perfect” home in less than 2 weeks.

Thank you Jeff. Your program made me consistently do a specified amount of affirmations every single day. The added features enhanced the whole experience. I study many of the same things you do but you put it all together so nicely. I can hardly wait for the next round of affirmations.

Many blessings and many thanks,

— Dhulkti Bartoloni“

“”Science is finally entering the Spiritual Age. With the Sculptor Method, you can design and create the life you have always wanted. And it’s easy to use.”

— Dr. Donald Schnell, Leading Authority of Spiritual disciplines, and Author of “The Initiation”

… best decision I ever made””I purchased the Sculptor Method several months ago. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Over the years, I’ve spent thousands of dollars purchasing all sorts of “self help” books and tapes. Your program is by far the most satisfying to date. It is truly amazing–a well thought out and well developed concept. Additionally, your ongoing support via the newsletters and the extraordinary amount of peripheral materials, sources, and resources make this program one of the best that I have seen.”

— Debra Craig

Everything You Want AppearsSeemingly Out Of Thin Air

There is a science that deals with manifesting desires. Many people regard it as mystical or esoteric, but it’s actually a science like physics or algebra.

There are certain immutable laws that govern the process of materializing wishes seemingly out of thin air, and once these laws are complied, anyone can make their dreams a reality — with absolute certainty.

Does this sound far-fetched? If so, I need you to suspend your disbelief until you hear the whole story because I assure you — this will be positively electrifying.

Émile Coué, 19th century French professor and Master Hypnotist

Emile Coué, became a pioneer of affirmation techniques — curing hundreds of patients in Europe and North America by teaching his patients to repeat the following affirmation each morning and evening: “Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better.“

Using this affirmation alone, the healing results were nothing less than spectacular.

Affirmations have long been recognized as a powerful tool in manifesting desires. That’s because the subconscious mind cannot differentiate between actual reality and suggestions. Therefore, it processes suggestions (or affirmations) as being real — and goes about using its powerful creative ability — and that of the nervous system — to actualize those affirmations.

For this reason, people from all walks of life — from athletic coaches, to sales professionals, to religious leaders, and peak performance experts (like Anthony Robbins) promote the practice of affirmations.

Affirmations are powerful in and of themselves. But now… imagine multiplying the power of affirmations exponentially so that the results would not only be more dramatic — but would also manifest your desires in record speed.

How is that possible, you ask?

Through the computer-assisted affirmation technology available only in the Sculptor Method program. The Sculptor Method is a set of revolutionary self-help tools that uses computerization to amplify the power of affirmations to facilitate the manifestation of your desires.

Desires Materialize Literally Overnight For Sculptor Method Users

My name is Jeff Staniforth, the creator of the Sculptor Method. I’ve been involved in metaphysics for over 15 years. I have spent years developing a proprietary technology that I’ve named the Sculptor Method, which shows you a technologically advanced way of manifesting your desires.

I’ve had the chance to prove over and over again that the Sculptor Method works. For example, several years ago, I used the Sculptor Method for just 10 days — and manifested half ownership in an apartment. That was at a time when I had absolutely no money — but within 10 days, I entered into a partnership and jointly purchased an apartment in Sydney’s desirable upper north shore. All it took was 10 minutes a day using the Sculptor Method.

Long before I started the AffirmWare company, I had the opportunity to use the Sculptor Method to get a new job — and I doubled my salary in 12 months. The beauty of the Sculptor Method is that it’s not just me. I guarantee that you — and anyone who applies the powerful principles presented in my Sculptor Method — can manifest positive changes in your life, too!

Among other things, I’ve used the Sculptor Method to meet a beautiful partner, start my own business, attract happiness, and eliminate all manner of ailments from my body.

Once you see your desires manifesting before your very eyes, you’ll never want to go back to letting life JUST happen. Allowing life to control you is a powerless scenario that you wouldn’t want for yourself, would you? of course not… So instead of just letting yourself get tossed by the uncertainty of circumstances, take control of your life and your destiny with the Sculptor Method.

“”I was blown away…”

“I have used your Sculptor Method and was awestruck at its beauty, simplicity and utility. It’s a very practical, wonderful tool. I was blown away by its practicality, I just love it.”

— John Harricharan, Best-selling Author “When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat” – http://www.powerpause.com

Here’s Why Using the Sculptor Method Works

The Sculptor Method is the only PC program (sorry, not available for MAC) available anywhere that combines 7 of the best results-amplifying technologies that are tested and proven to increase the power and speed of manifestation. Here they are:

Affirmations

Visualization

Alpha sound technology (to induce highly receptive meditative states)

Subliminal technology

Sentence completion

Assignment writing/goal setting

Whole brain synchronization (utilizing thought, intuition, sensation and emotion)

Only Sculptor Method seamlessly integrates all 7 technologies to create the most powerful manifesting mechanism ever conceived. So while you sit in front of your computer for 10 minutes, you are literally soaking yourself in 7 powerful technologies that have been synergistically combined to produce incredible results.

The Sculptor Method is loaded with new features, all designed to help you live a more fulfilling life.

Subliminal Technology Puts Manifestation on “Steroids”

In the 1950s, an advertising expert named James Vicary, started testing subliminal advertising in movie theaters. He inserted subliminal frames containing the words, “EAT POPCORN” and “DRINK COKE” within the reels of film. During the movie, the subliminal messages went by so fast that the unsuspecting audience didn’t consciously see the words, but their subconscious minds perceived the suggestions. As a result, Coke sales jumped 18.1% and popcorn sales skyrocketed by 57.7%.

Subliminal advertising proved to be too powerful that it was eventually outlawed. But what if you could use the same technology to install empowering affirmations into your subconscious — beneath the threshold of your conscious mind? Now, you can flash subliminal messages on your computer screen while you work! It’s like advertising to your own subconscious mind and having your desires manifest at an unprecedented speed. I’ll give you this program as a FREE gift with the SculptorMethod. Read on for details.

Anthony Robbins, World Renowned Expert On Motivational Thinking and Affirmations, Said It Best…

“By repeating an affirmation over and over again, it becomes embedded in the subconscious mind, and eventually becomes your reality. That is why you need to be careful what you think and believe, because that is exactly what you will get!”

When you repeat an affirmation — and amplify its power through the computer technology built into the Sculptor Method, it becomes projected onto your mental screen and brought into reality by the innate creative ability of your subconscious mind.

How to Bypass the Conscious Mind to Get the Results You Want with Minimum Conscious Effort

In and of themselves, affirmations are a powerful tool for manifesting. But when you practice affirmations from a deep, meditative state of consciousness (such as that induced by the brain wave player in the Sculptor Method), you increase their manifesting power up to a hundred fold.

That’s because meditation enables you to effortlessly bypass the conscious mind, and imprint affirmations into the subconscious mind. The subconscious mind, in turn, impinges upon the nervous system to bring about your desired results.

Imagine This Scenario:

“It’s 7 O’clock Monday morning. You’re not really looking forward to another grueling week of work, and you need something to get you going. You turn on your PC and the Sculptor Method automatically launches itself. The brain wave player starts to play a soothing tone that puts you in a very relaxed state. Carefully scripted subliminal messages are being displayed. You sit back and enjoy your affirmation experience as the Sculptor Method springs into action (see screen shot below):

The time it takes to brew your morning coffee, you’re done. the Sculptor Method has done its job in 10 minutes flat.

It’s now 7:15 AM, and you’re feeling unstoppable and positively empowered because of the high-octane affirmation session that got you charged up with everything you need to face the day.

The next moment, you’re out the door. You go about your day with the greatest of ease, feeling confident that the universe is conspiring to make your desires happen with no struggle on your part. Your day is filled with success after success because you’re in peak condition. This goes on all day long, and you surprisingly find yourself smiling all the time. Gone are the stress and fear that you used to have – but in their place, a deep-seated peace and confidence that you can achieve all your goals and overcome all obstacles in your path. It’s never been this easy!

For the next 12 days, you continue using the Sculptor Method for 10 minutes every morning or evening. Towards the end of the week, you’re amazed to see that positive things are beginning to happen — things that are getting you closer to your desires and dreams. Every door opens for you and everyone you meet is happy to be with you or do business with you. Money begins to come easily, and you’re feeling vibrant and healthy. You’re on top of the world.

As the days go by, you find that everything you’ve ever wanted in life have all begun to manifest in your life. You’re living the life of your dreams.

But Can It Really Be This Simple?

Absolutely! Using the Sculptor Method for PC can get you started manifesting your desires and dreams immediately. There’s no learning curve involved because the software program is intuitive — so easy to use.

If you can type on a computer, I guarantee that you can make the Sculptor Method work for you!

Here’s What One User Had To Say About The Sculptor Method

 “All desire to drink or smoke magically disappeared…”

I used your Sculptor Method in January this year to help me with an addiction to alcohol and tobacco. I had one session where I affirmed that I was healthy. Prior to that day, I struggled with being unable to stop using the substances for many years. Since that day, all desire to drink or smoke has magically disappeared. I now exercise regularly and I am taking back my life. — Thank you so very much for your wonderful work.

— Carmen

So What Do You Want in Life And When Do You Want It?

Earlier on, I asked you to name 3 things that you want in your life. Now that you’ve done that — and maybe even identified many other things you desire — the only question left to answer is when do you want to have them?

I’ve shown you how the Sculptor Method can immerse you in 7 of the top manifesting technologies simultaneously — and materialize your desires faster than you ever thought possible. Now, it’s time for you to act on this.

How Much Is All This Worth To You?

What is the value of getting your hands on this state-of-the-art manifesting PC software program that’s not available anywhere else? What is it worth to have the best possible tool for manifesting your desires? Can you even put a price tag on living your dreams?

I ask you, how much are you willing to invest to create your ideal life? $10,000? $5,000? $1,000? How about $500?

Well, the good news is that you can own Sculptor 3 for less than $100! Yes, that’s right. Valuable as it is, Sculptor 3 can be yours for a one-time investment of just $97.00 (USD). If you’re in a hurry and can’t wait to get started, click here to experience Sculptor 3 now.

Here’s A Snapshot Of What You Get When You Order The Sculptor Method Today:

The Powerful Affirmation Program — Takes you step-by-step through a personalized 12-Day Plan for Success. You will learn how to easily create powerful affirmations customized to your own needs and desires. (Note: You can repeat the 12-day plan as often as you like.)

Subliminal Messaging Program — The Sculptor Method uses a powerful Subliminal Messaging feature which displays subliminally on your computer monitor while you practice your affirmations. You have complete control over these messages, you can add, modify, and delete them. You also have control over frequency and duration. These work magically to effortlessly program your unconscious mind.

The Stunning Brain Wave Player Feature — offers a selection of Alpha, Beta, and Theta brain files that can be played while using the Sculptor Method. By using the Brain Wave files, your mind will become more receptive to your affirmations and visual imagery, increasing their effectiveness instantly!

Autopilot Mode — An automatic mode, useful for situations where you are involved with other tasks (ideal for effortless subconscious programming).

Visual Programming Feature — The Sculptor Method comes with an extremely valuable “visualization aid” to assist you in improving your visualization skills. This is an absolute MUST if you want your manifestation to reach new heights!

A Personal Response Database — When using the affirmation program you will be asked to type in a response to your affirmation. These responses are saved to the Sculptor Method Database so you can view these responses at any time. These responses will prove invaluable when it comes to understanding and overcoming any inner resistance you might have towards obtaining your desired outcome.

The Amazing Sentence Completion Feature — Sentence Completion is the art of repeatedly (12 times recommended) answering a single question called a stem, and answering it as many times as you feel comfortable with. This is a powerful technique — with step-by-step instructions provided by Nathaniel Branden, Ph.D.

The Mission Statement — This option is for users who would like to create a mission statement and have it replace the default backdrop image used in the Sculptor Method. By having your mission statement as a backdrop, you are constantly being reminded of what is important to you, in your life. And by doing this, you’re working some powerful magic on your mind that actually gets you in the mindset to get what you want.

Your Own Power Symbol — The Sculptor Method allows you to select a power symbol displayed on-screen while you are engaged in your affirmation practice. This power symbol empowers your affirmation practice because it holds a special significance to you. Most of the symbols represent various religious denominations, though some are neutral. This is so powerful — you won’t know how well this works until you try it!

Gender-Specific Library Choices — The Sculptor Method includes separate HIS and HER libraries. Both of these libraries come with illustrations and stories — one for each day of the 12-Day program, plus sample affirmations. This helps you customize the program to your gender … very important!

Daily Quotes To Help You Reach Success — The Sculptor Method displays a selection of powerful Quotes each time you start the program. You can add, delete and modify these quotes to suit your desires.

Your Own Associative Trigger Symbol — The Sculptor Method allows you to select to have a trigger symbol displayed on-screen while you are engaged in your affirmation practice. What you want to do with this trigger symbol is to create an association between the trigger symbol and your affirmation so it automatically increases the power (and effectiveness) of your affirmations!

Customizable Set Up Program — The Sculptor Method includes a Setup Program for defining your affirmation, affirmation speed, colors, symbols, illustrations, fonts, libraries, and much, much more. This makes it easy to start using it right away for maximum benefit.

Easy-To-Use Complete Instructions — Quick Guide, User’s Guide & Tutorial which shows you all you need to know to use the Sculptor Method. The Tutorial is graphical based, and outlines all the Sculptor Method features so you can get the most from it!

Exclusive Access to the Sculptor Method Private Web site — This site is available for all registered Sculptor Method users. You will find sample affirmations, articles, additional background images, and much more to enhance your manifesting experience.

You Risk Absolutely Nothing

I’m so confident that you will be thrilled with the Sculptor Method that I’m willing to make this unprecedented guarantee. Get the Sculptor Method today and take it for a trial spin. Take as long as 60 Days to see if it really does for you what I say it will.

Once you experience how enjoyable it is to use, and how easily you are able to manifest your desires, I’m betting I couldn’t pry it out of your hands if I tried. But if, for any reason, it doesn’t give you major breakthroughs, or you simply aren’t satisfied with the results you’re getting, let me know within 60 Days and I’ll be happy to give you 100% of your money back.

So you have nothing to lose when you give it a try today. Within minutes, you will get download instructions, and you can start enjoying the benefits of the Sculptor Method immediately.

“Okay, Heads Up!” Grab Instant Access To The “Sculptor Method” Today

Regular Price $127.00 Today $97.00

Instant Digital Download Available 24 Hours Per Day

 .

Did You Know… ?

Affirmation experts agree that in order to maximize the power of affirmations, they should not just be repeated mindlessly. They need to be fueled by emotion.

The Sculptor Method uses trigger symbols, storytelling visuals, power symbols and other stimuli that effectively set your affirmation on fire — and therefore makes it infinitely more powerful. These elements not only add emotion but a spiritual dimension to your affirmation practice, and they’ve been proven to enhance manifestation by up to 500%!

 .

To Give You An Even Better Value On Your Investment. When you order today you’ll also receive the following bonuses.

(valued at $295.95 – Yours FREE!) 

How To Attract True Love – Love – that elusive emotion that captures our hearts, minds, and imagination! We all want it, but the big question that plagues many of us is, “How do I get it?”

This guide answers that all-important question and will set you on the road to welcoming love into your life, whether you want it for the first time, had it and lost it, or just want to feel more of it in your current relationship. $27 Value – Yours Free!

PDF Guide

PDF Self Reflection Guide

How To Overcome Challenge – Throughout our lives we face challenges in many types of situations. Do you sometimes freeze up when faced with obstacles? If so, opportunities may pass you by. The strategies you will learn here can help. If you take advantage of these techniques, you’ll discover within yourself a much stronger person capable of anything. $27 Value – Yours Free!

PDF Guide

Writable PDF Worksheet

PDF Cheklist

Self Motivation – This little book will show you how to use the power of your mind to motivate yourself to pursue your goals to fulfillment, regardless of the challenges life throws your way. It will also give you expert advice on staying motivated throughout your life. $27 Value – Yours Free!

PDF Guidebook

Writable PDF Workbook

PDF Cheklist

Setting Personal Goals – If you’ve ever dreamed of the perfect life, this Guide, Workbook and Flowchart is for you. You’ll discover how setting personal goals can help you achieve the life you’ve always wanted – and deserve. $27 Value – Yours Free!

PDF Guide

Writable PDF Workbook

SMART Goal Setting Flow Chart

Importance of Conquering Fears – In this eBook, the topic of fear will be discussed in depth. We’ll delve into fear from all angles, including: “How fear can negatively affect your life”, “The nature of fear” and “The difference between a fear and a phobia”. You’ll also find some tips and techniques to help you overcome your fears, as well as discover the positive results that come from facing your fears head on. $27 Value – Yours Free!

PDF eBook

PDF Checklist

Writable PDF Worksheet

Science of Getting Rich – Audio – W. D. Wattles. Born shortly after the Civil War, Wattles experienced a life of failure after failure, until in his latter years, after tireless study he formulated the principles laid out in The Science of Getting Rich. Time less wisdom and a step-by-step prosperity program. $27 Value – Yours Free!

Audio book

20 Affirmation Posters – 20 (dimensions 2560×1600) Affirmation Posters. Print them and hang them where you will see them often. Affirmation Posters sell from $5.95 to $27 elsewhere on the Internet… yours FREE when you invest in Sculptor 3 today. $119 Value – Yours Free!

20 Affirmation Posters

Breaking Free of Negative Emotions – Painful situations are a part of life, but your perception makes all the difference. If you’re holding onto painful memories and feelings, these are very likely keeping you from leading a happy life. This Guide, Workbook and Cheatsheet will help teach you how to let go of the past and live the life you deserve. $27 Value – Yours Free!

PDF Guide

Writable PDF Workbook

PDF Cheatsheet

These bonuses alone are worth many times the cost of the whole thing. But remember, even if you later decide that the Sculptor Method is not for you (which I strongly doubt), you still get to keep these bonuses as my “Thank You” for giving the Sculptor Method a try. So give it a try risk-free today.

There’s Nothing to Learn! The Sculptor Method Does All The Work For You

Make no mistake — this is NOT just another book or CD program that talks about manifestation techniques. The Sculptor Method is a powerful software program that makes things happen…

If you’ve tried books or CD’s on the subject before, then you’ve probably already discovered that oftentimes, they’re just a pleasant read. I’ve been there myself — curled up with a book, feeling hopeful of a bright future. But, did anything change? Getting results is the acid test.

With the Sculptor Method, you don’t have to learn anything. Instead, it will do all the work for you — making it easy to apply manifesting principles to your life and helping you get what you want the easy and effective way. Get started now.

“What an incredible product… I am absolutely amazed that there is something finally so wonderful on the market”.

— Editor/Publisher, Power of One, Metaphysical Magazine

“… success already beginning!

You are providing an amazing service. I held off using because of the cost… foolish idea. I started this AM using the Sculptor Method and can feel the desires in my mind and heart for hope and success already beginning to increase.

Thank you,

— John Gray

Invest in the Sculptor Method Today!

The Single Most Important Skill

If you were to ask me what the single most important skill is, that if you possessed it would dramatically change your life for the better, I would tell you, without a doubt — it’s the ability to manifest your desires. The Sculptor Method can give you that ability — guaranteed.

You will NOT find this program in bookstores anywhere. It is totally unique and sold exclusively on the web.

Listen, here’s the thing: I sell this package through Clickbank, which means I play by their rules. And their rules state that I’ve got to give you an 8-week, money back guarantee. I’m fine with that. I stand by my product completely and know you’ll be completely thrilled with it, and more importantly, the results.

So, use the The Sculptor Method to manifest your desires. However, for your peace of mind, know that a refund is available anytime within the next 8 weeks by simply e-mailing me or Clickbank.

Now who’s taking all the risk?

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Imagine this… in as little as a few days, you could be on you way to manifesting the life you’ve always dreamed of. Imagine becoming debt-free, enjoying improved health… having happy and loving relationships… finding your dream home… all because you decided to say “YES” today.

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Sing Your Song and Kris Allen at Duling Hall

Last night was fun. The Greater Jackson Arts Council had a show at Duling Hall to highlight and celebrate local talent. They called the event Sing Your Song and in it, twelve local singers performed one song each and three impartial judges crowned a winner at the end. The winner got $1000 and some recording time. 

As the guy who’s married to Ariel Blackwell, I know there’s a lot of talented people around the Jackson area, but to see so much of it showcased back to back was a heartening experience. Personally, my favorites from the night were JadaBelle, Seth Power, JAE54, and Sam Mooney but in the end, McKenzie Lockhart won the grand prize. I can’t even say the judges got it wrong because the song she sang was great, just not my kind of music. I am not-so-secretly bummed that a local artist didn’t, as McKenzie is from Alabama, but ultimately the showcase of music was the real winner of the night. Side note: I think its really great that McKenzie kinda looks like Lisa from The Room.  

Kris Allen, the winner of American Idol Season 8, was both a guest judge and the “headliner” of the show. I’ve been a fan since his AI win and personally, I think his most recent album, Letting You In, is his best yet. So, from the jump, Sergio was there to see Mr. Allen, the rest of the night was surprisingly pleasant window-dressing.  

The only real complaint I have about the show is the length of Kris Allen’s set. He was given about 30 minutes which translated into 7 songs. I can think of at least 15 songs I would have loved to have heard. I’m sure the show was planned on a tight budget, so Allen didn’t have his full band behind him. Fortunately, Duling Hall is the perfect venue for intimate acoustic sets.  

His 7 songs were the right 7 songs, and if I’m being honest, he sounded perfect. Almost disgustingly perfect. It was like he wrote those songs specifically for his voice and performance capabilities, then smartly performed them as designed. All jokes aside, Allen was a joy, and I wish he had been given at least 45 mins, maybe a 10 song set or something more substantial.  

As usual, I somehow hoodwinked my way into acquiring the “setlist”. I use the quotes because unlike every other setlist we’ve gotten, this one was hastily written on a styrofoam plate. I know that sounds disappointing, but it's actually quite the opposite. Not only was it handwritten, but it being on a plate makes it special in its own weird collector’s kind of way. 

From now on, I have the sentence “oh yeah, that’s the setlist I have on a styrofoam plate” to look forward to. To add to the allure of the plate, not only did Allen sign it, but as he handed it to me he said “Enjoy your meal.” I don’t know if it was scripted, but it was 100% the perfect thing to say in that moment. Such a small phrase, but the timing was right that I now will remember it forever. Damn humans and our weird sentimental minds. 

Here’s where things get weird. As setlist collectors, my wife and I have quite the hoard. I believe its 29 and counting. They are all carefully framed with the exact same type of frame, hung meticulously on our wall in chronological order.  This Kris Allen set-plate puts the organization system in jeopardy. After spending an embarrassing amount of time deciding if a $15 (wrong-sized) shadow box was worth the purchase I made the executive decision to wing it.  

I took the same 8.5x11 picture frame that we’ve used for the other setlists and I cut the guts and supports out of the back of it and forced it to be a makeshift shadow box. This gutted frame now checks both boxes. It preserves the integrity of the plate (mostly) while still matching the other setlists in the collection. I would allow myself to be proud of it, but knowing that I used a miter to alter a perfectly good document frame to house disposable dinnerware successfully keeps me in check.  

The night was a success, and I thank Doug for joining me at the last minute.  I sincerely hope this “Sing Your Song” event becomes an annual thing, and I’m excited to see what the next one might bring. More importantly, I have reason to tell this ridiculous plate story and that makes the night more than worth my money.