#and my mom had such good rapport with almost all of them

[notsuchasecret]

My mom was a master at this. When I was a baby, she and my dad went to buy a minivan. We lived in Salt Lake City at the time, where it was expected even more than in other places that the man would take the lead. But my mom always made more money than my dad, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

They got sat down with the salesman and she laid out exactly what she wanted. He would direct his answer to my dad every time. She would answer every question he asked my dad herself. My mom was not someone to go against in a battle of wills. I'm only half as stubborn as she was and I can win a staring contest with a rock. They go back and forth a few times until they're almost at a number my mom can afford, but not quite. And then the salesman bangs his hand on the table and says, and I fucking quote, "C'mon, lady, how many ho-hos do you have to give up to get in this van?"

My father went to stand up to defend his wife's honor. My mother put a hand on his chest and pushed him back into his seat. She leaned forward very calmly and said, "I don't know. How many ho-hos do you have to shove up your ass to save this sale?"

And then she stood, gathered my carseat, my father, and my brother, and went across the street to another lot where she said "[salesman] at [competition] failed to meet my terms. What do you have?"

That salesman got her in the van she wanted but the upgraded model, for less money. And then when they got home, they realized they didn't have my diaper bag. But before they could do anything, that salesman from the second lot showed up at our house and said "I'm so sorry I took the liberty of looking at your paperwork, but I thought you would need this," and handed over my diaper bag. I'm a 90s baby, so they didn't have cell phones to call and I guess they hadn't been home to pick up the landline. This salesman was literally on his way to a wedding and made a detour to drop off my diaper bag.

The first lot had a slogan about making friends for life. My dad wrote a letter to that lot detailing their experience that ended with "Thank you for making [second lot] a friend for life."

The moral of the story is that if you don't react to their fear tactics, and if you're willing to walk away and go next door and tell the same terms and stand your ground there too, you will almost always get better care and a better deal.

Ive said this before but swear the biggest skill to learn as an adult is how to resist high-pressure sales tactics. You do NOT have to answer questions with anything other than "Sorry I'm not interested." No matter how nice they are or no matter how many follow up questions they ask or even how agitated they get when you stand your ground. Just keep saying I'm not interested. Don't answer their questions. Don't give them an opening to try to push back on your reasons. Be a fucking brick wall of I'm not interested.

[bi-scottsummers]

Hi, hello, just came here to say that I love your fic "trending in Japan". I was wondering if you had headcanons regarding Kenji or Emi or interpersonal relationships and stuff. Many hugs for you.

hi hello, thank you for the encouragement and hugs! After some thought ive realized I do in fact have some hcs about some of the character dynamics in the movie as well as just kenji himself, cause hes captivated my entire brain:

Kenji & Emi

Emi does not have teeth but she does inexplicably have a teething phase. kenji is forced to hide all his (salvaged) fancy cars in the garage bc the corvette's already been chewed to hell and his heart is gonna give out if he has to watch any more classics get wrecked

he reads her bedtime stories. A lot of aesop's fables, because theyre short and fun and hes trying to raise his monster daughter with good morals. emi goes hogwild for these but its unclear if she actually understands what hes saying; kenji's pretty sure she just likes the silly voices he uses for different characters

they go flying together! they go first thing in the morning before breakfast - it helps kenji shake off the grogginess of sleep and emi gets to stretch her wings. shes not able to go very far for very long initially, but as she grows and gets those cardio gainz she almost gets to be quicker than him. they have races and play air tag :)

while she doesnt have the vocal range to speak english herself, it becomes clear that emi does understand it well. (kenji also develops an ear for her chirping/squawks, though body language & facial expressions play a big part in communication for both of them) during her (much later) rebellious phase she'll simply pretend not to know what's being said when kenji is telling her to do something she doesn't wanna do, which frustrates him to no end

Kenji

developed a pretty massive chip on his shoulder after moving to the states. it wasn't just bitterness over his dad staying behind, though that was a part of it. this is canon but he was picked on in school for "how [he talked], how [he looked] and what [he ate]." he felt like he had something to prove to both his father and the world. he threw himself into sports - specifically baseball - and his academics, and he did so well that it forced everyone to shut up about how he was different from them and focus on how he was better than them

^ playing off this: kenji had a bonkers fucking yonkers routine when he was a kid/in highschool. he'd get up hours before school started to practice his swing, go for a ~1hr run, workout, study, etc. He'd go to school, come home, and do it all again. this is exaggerated but my point is that this kid was DETERMINED and had the discipline to see that determination through to the end

didnt have many friends because of all aforementioned things. he had acquaintances, and he was invited to parties and outings and stuff (never went), but he spent most of his free time hanging out with his mom. he never really had a "parents are so embarrassing" phase. he always liked to do anything with his mother: going to the bank, going grocery shopping, watching cheesy telenovelas till ungodly hours in the morning, etc. she was his no.1 supporter, confidant, and best friend

he played for his university's baseball team and got scouted at 19. his mom forced him to finish his bachelor's first so once he graduated with his degree in kinesiology at 21, he was drafted to the dodgers

Kenji & Ami

both of them, up until meeting each other, were totally dedicated to their career (and child) so they had basically 0 time for friends. theyre both borderline losers but theyre juuust good enough at what they do for people to admire them instead of finding them sad and lowkey pathetic

kenji is way more into the idea of being friends than ami is. hes pretty enthusiastic about it; he thinks that they have a kind of rapport, since they share a similar work ethic and are both (unbeknownst to ami) single parents. he calls her to chat abt random things. ami initially isnt superrrr into it; she thinks kenji is kinda lonely and desperate for human connection, & it isnt until her mom points out that she has not spoken to anyone outside of work-related reasons in 10+ years that shes like oh shit, i am also lonely and desperate for human connection. so she grudgingly acquires a friend. theyre both really bad at it

need to clarify that in my mind their dynamic is 95% kenji yapping about work and drama in his personal life (circumventing the 8m baby kaiju hes raising) while ami goes "mhm mhm" and takes notes until kenji notices and is like What are you doing. at which point ami is like...... right . nothing. im listening. and forces herself to put the notepad away. she has a hard time disengaging from the reporter mindset and just hearing something intriguing without turning it into an article. the other 5% are the rare moments where theyre connecting super well - ami's psychoanalyzing the hell out of whatever kenji just said and hes like what are you my therapist. over time she starts opening up to him, too, and eventually theyre comfortable enough to be having philosophical discussions over breakfast just for funsies

before kenji reveals that hes ultraman, ami thinks hes in a gang. he keeps showing up to their lunch "dates" with like bruised eyes and fractured bones and gets all shifty when she tries to ask about what happened. when she eventually confronts him about it, hes so offended that she thinks hed be involved in something like that that he tells her about being ultraman

thats about all i can think of rn, though im sure ill think of more after rotating all the characters in my head for a while. thanks again for stopping in, i appreciate the support :)

[wyntereyez]

A Little Batty

Here it is... my @cssns contribution! It's late because I've been burned out, and it was originally going to have art by @spartanguard and be betaed by @ohmakemeahercules, but because I didn't get anything done until the last minute, I didn't want to impose.

--------

A Little Batty

Emma’s nights volunteering at the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center (locally referred to as ‘The Belfry’) weren’t something she’d ever imagined herself doing. She was no Disney princess; she didn’t have a natural rapport with animals. But The Belfry was her sister-in-law’s baby, and who was Emma to resist Mary Margaret’s pleading eyes? And she had to admit, any animal that let you roll it into a little burrito was cute.

Plus, her nights fell on the nights Henry was over at Neal’s. Though she didn’t think she was one of Those Moms who missed their children whenever they weren’t around, Emma admitted to herself that she was lonely when he was gone. Their creaky old house suddenly felt big and empty, and it became too much for Emma. At least at The Belfry, she could socialize without going to the effort of getting dressed up and going out in public.

Ruby was already there when Emma arrived. Unlike Emma, she did have a way with animals (“Not all animals; just creatures of the night,” she’d joked) and was the best at handling the animals when their cages needed cleaning.

And then there was Mary Margaret, who really was a Disney Princess, and you couldn’t convince Emma otherwise. All animals loved her, and she loved all animals. 

They were gathered around Mary Margaret’s desk, discussing distribution of chores (Emma was not on cage-cleaning duty tonight, thank goodness) when they were interrupted by the arrival of William Smee, the man in charge of the local marina.

Emma thought at first he’d come specifically looking for her as sheriff, but he’d only nodded in greeting and headed straight to Mary Margaret.

He was wearing the thick gloves he used for dock work, and held what looked like a ratty old beach towel cupped in both hands. “Mrs. Nolan! I found a bat down at the docks. I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I brought him straight here.”

It was unusual for Smee to be working this late at night, especially past the tourist season, and Emma instinctively wondered why. She mentally scolded herself; she needed to stop being paranoid; not everyone did things for duplicitous reasons. Like her ex.

“Let’s see what you have,” Mary Margaret said. She opened the desk drawer and withdrew a set of the thick leather gloves they used when handling the bats. Smee pulled away the top layer of the towel, just enough to reveal his captive without releasing it.

Emma expected a large brown bat; they made up most of the local bat population, and thus most of The Belfry’s residents. She wasn’t prepared for when the towel fell away from a sharp, fox-like muzzle and huge eyes, topped with large, pointed ears.

It was a fruit bat. A rather large one, at that. It stared calmly back at them with its wide, dark eyes, and twitched its ears. It seemed completely unbothered at being a bat-burrito, suggesting it was accustomed to being handled. It yawned, exposing sharp canines, one of which had a small chip in it.

“Where did you find it?” Mary Margaret asked as she pulled on the thick leather gloves.

“He was down at the docks,” Smee said. “Nestled in a coil of rope. I almost missed him, but he squeaked at me. It’s like he wanted to get my attention.”

The bat squeaked, as though it were chiming in.

“He didn’t even put up a fight. He was easy to catch - you’ll see why,” Smee said as the last of the towel fell away, leaving the bat exposed in Mary Margaret’s hand. Annoyed, the bat spread its wings, and Emma ducked out of the way of the enormous right wing. 

It was only after she righted herself that noticed his left wing, which Mary Margaret had caught and was gently holding. It was only half the length of the right, ending with a club of scar tissue just below what would have been the wrist. Mary Margaret was examining it critically, frowning.

“It’s an old injury,” Mary Margaret said, releasing the wing. The bat gave her a sour look and tucked it to his side. “No way he’s been living wild. He’s probably someone’s pet; a sailor, maybe, since you found him at the docks. He’s definitely used to being handled.”

He was also very obviously a ‘he,’ Emma couldn’t help but notice when the bat rolled over onto his back, his rear towards Emma. He looked towards her, gave a startled squeak, and wrapped his wings around himself.

Emma needed to stop anthropomorphizing the residents, because there was no way he could be embarrassed by accidentally flashing her.

“We’ll put him in one of the isolation cages for now,” Mary Margaret decided. “Just because he seems healthy now, doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong with him. Ruby, I brought a banana for a snack; it’s in the break room if you could grab it for me, please?”

“Do you have any idea where he came from?” Emma asked Smee. Fruit bats were illegal to have as pets, and while Emma didn’t think the owner would get more than a fine, they could lead to a larger illegal animal trade organization. “Anyone new around the docks?” It was the wrong time of year for it, though; most of the boats that came to Storybrooke for the summer tourist season had departed in the last few weeks. It was possible one of them had left the bat, but that meant he’d been on the docks fending for himself for at least a week. He look too healthy for a pet that had been abandoned that long.

“We have one ship that’s wintering over for repairs, but he’s not the bat’s owner,” Smee said. He seemed very certain of this, but there was something shifty in his gaze as he said it. Emma prided herself at being good at detecting lies and Smee…wasn’t lying, not exactly, but he wasn’t telling the truth, either. Before Emma could pursue it further, however, Mary Margaret interrupted.

“Obviously, he can’t be released into the wild,” Mary Margaret sighed. “He seems pretty docile; we can probably put him in the bat educational program, assuming he’s healthy and remains easy to handle. Thank you for bring him, Mr. Smee. We’ll take good care of him.”

Smee took this as his cue to leave, but not without an odd backward glance at the bat.

Emma told herself the bat did not nod at Smee.

Ruby returned with the banana and began to peel it. At the sight of it, the bat began squeaking and straining towards it. “Someone’s hungry,” she cooed, and held it out. The bat’s mouth opened wide, and he tore off a chunk that looked like it should have been too large for him.

They let him eat as much as he wanted while Mary Margaret held him. When he was finished, consuming almost the entire thing (How? Emma wondered. Where did he put it all?), Mary Margaret said, “I need to feed the others. Emma, could you get some gloves and put this guy in the furthest isolation cage?”

Emma grabbed another set of gloves. “Isn’t he too big?” The cages were designed for much smaller brown bats; he’d be cramped.

“He should be okay for a few days. And since he can’t fly, we don’t have to worry about too little space. He should have enough room to spread his wings, at least.”

The bat chittered, and licked banana mush off its muzzle. “We’ll have more fruit for you tomorrow,” Mary Margaret promised. “A variety. How do you feel about strawberries?” She chattered on as she transferred him to Emma.

The bat squeaked excitedly.

Which was a valid reaction to strawberries, but couldn’t be in response to Mary Margaret’s words. Right? 

Could bats pick up words, like dogs? Maybe he did understand ‘strawberries.’

Emma carried the bat to the back area, past the large, open enclosures that housed the permanent populations, as well as the wild ones that would be released as soon as they were ready. The isolation cages were smaller, designed to make it easy to catch a bat that would need constant care and observation.

She opened the door of the last cage, the largest, and gently lowered her hands. It took some prodding to move him off her palms, and at last he moved with great reluctance. He crawled across the floor of the cage to the bars, and immediately began to climb them to the top, unhindered by the missing finger bones of his wing, then crawled around the top until he found the perfect spot. He anchored his feet in place and dropped his body until he was hanging upside down, eye to eye with Emma. Then, with a great yawn, he pulled his wings around himself until only the tips of his ears were visible.

“Stay out of trouble,” she told him.

Emma could have sworn he’d winked at her.

~oOo~

Emma stopped by the marina at the end of her shift, curious if the bat’s owner had returned. Her attention was drawn to a ship she hadn’t seen before, a massive wooden ship that looked like it would be more at home in the Caribbean than in Maine. It was moored at the largest dock, and Emma saw it had no sails, nor any rigging. It must have been the ship Smee said was staying over for the winter, since that was the only reason to derig it. She hadn’t expected anything so… spectacular. The ship was gorgeous. She studied it curiously for several minutes, wondering who would own such a vessel, then shrugged and headed towards the main office. The door was locked, however; Smee had already left, and there was no one else on the docks.

She shrugged and headed to The Belfry.

Mary Margaret was already there, feeding the residents. It alway icked Emma out, to see her gentle sister-in-law feeding the ecstatic bats their mealworms.

“How’s our newest resident?” Emma asked.

“He was just waking up when I checked on him,” Mary Margaret said. “He looks alert, with no obvious signs of illness. The vet stopped by earlier to take some samples, so we should know soon if there’s any diseases we should worry about.” She frowned. “There was a bit of blood in his cage, but the vet couldn’t find any injuries. Did you cut yourself when you put him in the cage last night?”

“No,” she said, but examined her hands anyway.

“Huh. Well, if you’d like to feed him, there’s a bowl of fresh fruit in the fridge for him.” Mary Margaret grinned. “At least you’ll be able to feed this one without screaming,” she teased.

Emma scowled, because her revulsion to mealworms was totally valid, thank you very much.

Ruby had thrown a mealworm at her.

It had gone down her cleavage.

Emma was never going to touch a damn worm again.

Emma found the bowl of fruit, snagging a chunk of melon for herself before picking up the bowl and carrying it to the quarantine cage.

He was clinging to the bars of the cage when she arrived, his nose pressed to the fine mesh between the bars as though he’d been waiting for her. When he saw her - or, more likely, the bowl of fruit - he began to squeak excitedly.

Emma was charmed.

The name ‘Killian’ had been written on the paper taped to his cage, in fancy penmanship that Emma didn’t recognize.

“Killian, huh?” Emma asked.

The bat squeaked.

“Okay, if you say so.”

She snagged another piece of fruit - a strawberry this time, much to the bat’s indignation - then placed the bowl at the bottom of the cage. Killian quickly climbed down and hopped into the bowl, quickly losing himself in fruity bliss.

Emma laughed, then went to help Mary Margaret finish up.

“Who named him Killian?” she asked.

Mary Margaret frowned. “I thought you did. The name was there when I got here, and you were the last one to see him.”

“If I’d named him, it would be something like ‘Batty,’” Emma pointed out. “Or possibly ‘Dracula.’” She shrugged. “He seems to like it, so we may as well keep it.”

Mary Margaret gave her a strange look. “I’m sure he doesn’t care,” was all she said.

~oOo~

Killian’s test results came back clean. As long as his phlegmatic temperament continued, he’d be introduced to the other bats, though he’d be kept in a cage alone to accommodate his disability. He seemed fine with this; the smaller cage was beside the bigger one, so he could watch and communicate with the other bats if he chose. It also had bars that were easier to grip and climb. For a fruit bat with full, functional wings, it wouldn’t be ideal, but since Killian couldn’t fly, all he needed was enough room to stretch his wings to the fullest without touching the bars.

When he continued to be easy to handle, they decided it was safe to hold him without gloves. He seemed to like this, settling into Emma’s hands contentedly.

That was how she found out that bats <i>purred.</i>

“Oh,” Mary Margaret said. “He really likes you! Guess you’re his official caretaker from now on.”

Killian continued to purr in her hands. Emma decided maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Because he was so comfortable with people, even seeming to prefer their company, Emma took to carrying him around the sanctuary. Sometimes he’d be burritoed in a blanket, other times he’d drape over her shoulder, that incredibly long intact wing lazily hanging down. He seemed very curious about the computer whenever she played around with it at the desk (officially ‘doing paperwork’ for the sanctuary, but actually looking at memes) and she’d see his wide, dark eyes staring at the images.

He seemed especially interested in the staffing schedule.

Emma was also the only one he allowed to ‘fly’ him. It was something they did with elderly bats, holding them and carrying them around the sanctuary, wings spread, as if they were flying. Killian seemed bemused by the whole process, but allowed himself to be carried around. 

Especially since the reward was always a bowl of fresh fruit - and gentle ear scritches from Emma.

~oOo~

Emma hadn’t intended to start dating again. Her divorce from Neal had been messy; he hadn’t been willing to let her go, despite his affair with his now-girlfriend Tamara. She thought she was done with men.

And then her sister-in-law introduced her to Walsh. They’d met when Mary Margaret had gone to the new furniture store in town, and she’d been charmed by his politeness. 

Emma had tried to refuse Mary Margaret’s efforts to set them up, but then David had joined in. Her brother had thus far sided with Emma, and had talked Mary Margaret out of multiple attempts at a set-up. For him to approve of Walsh? That meant something. So Emma had reluctantly agreed to the date.

Walsh felt… safe. He was polite, respectful. Not particularly adventurous, which would have been a big turn-off once, but now it had appeal. Best of all, he didn’t argue with her every decision. She’d forgotten what it was like to be in a relationship with no drama.

One date became two, and plans were made for a third.

~oOo~

Emma arrived late to the sanctuary on the night of her second date. She hadn’t wanted to be out so late, but Walsh had admitted to being something of a night owl, and didn’t really eat until around nine in the evening. Emma had had to have a pre-dinner before dinner, because she knew she’d starve to death if she waited that long.

But she’d had more fun than expected. And eating later in the evening meant fewer diners, which had made the restaurant more intimate. 

She’d liked it.

And the dim interior made it harder to maintain eye contact with Walsh. She’d noticed that he had a really intense gaze, and tried to meet hers as often as he could. It was… uncomfortable, for reasons Emma couldn’t really explain.

Emma put it out of her mind as she turned her attention on the anxious fruit bat, who was perched with his muzzle sticking out of the cage. At the sight of her, he gave several ear-piercing shrieks.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Killian gave her a sour look.

“Hey! Don’t give me that! It’s not like you can tell time!”

He continued to glower.

“Okay, sorry!”

He tilted his head, considering. Then, with a sound that was almost a purr, he extended his right wing towards her thumb, snagging it with his clever little finger, and pulling her hand closer. He was about to pull himself onto her hand when he suddenly froze.

His nose twitched, wrinkled, and he bared his sharp little teeth. And then he did something he’d never done before.

He hissed.

Emma jerked her hands back. “Whoa! What’s with you today?”

He continued to stare at her as though she smelled rancid, and he wouldn’t come near her. Rather than stress him out further, Emma let him be. It wouldn’t hurt him to miss a night of flying.

~oOo~

A bat’s rejection shouldn’t have stung.

Killian continued to be edgy the rest of the night, so she left him alone.

After her shift, Emma realized she was too restless to sleep. Maybe it was a lingering excitement over the date, or maybe Emma really had taken Killian’s tantrum personally, but she didn’t want to go home. It was Neal’s weekend with Henry, and she couldn’t face being cooped up in that empty house.

So she went to The Rabbit Hole, Storybrooke’s only nightlife scene. She drew a few glances as she walked in, but they lost interest as soon as they saw she was off duty. She went straight to the bar and ordered a strawberry daiquiri, because apparently hanging around a fruit bat made you crave fruity things.

She’d been there maybe ten minutes when someone sat beside her. A richly accented voice that definitely did not send a shiver down Emma’s spine asked for a rum. 

Emma waited until he’d been served his drink before turning to him and asking, “New in town?” 

He turned, and Emma’s breath hitched when she met those blue, blue eyes. “What gave it away, Love?” he asked, amused.

English accents turned her into putty. Especially when combined with a smoldering gaze.

Mistakes had been made.

“I know everyone in this town,” she said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh? And who might you be?”

“I’m the sheriff,” she warned him. 

“And you don’t take kindly to strangers ‘round these parts?” he mocked, adapting a twang.

“We’re fine with strangers - so long as they don’t bring trouble.”

He grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “And I look like trouble?”

Emma arched an eyebrow. 

His smile widened. Oh, he knew exactly how he looked.

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering his hand. Emma lifted a brow when, instead of shaking, he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She hmmphed, refusing to be charmed by his old world manners.

Emma’s eyes fell on his left wrist, where a thick leather brace supported a rather alarming looking metal hook. His gaze followed hers. “Forgive the hardware,” he said. “Crude, I know, but it’s far more useful sailing than a more delicate prosthesis or a false hand.” He pulled his arm closer to his chest, not quite hiding it, but at least making it look less threatening.

His name wasn’t the only thing he had in common with their fruit bat.

“Are you a sailor, Mr. Jones?”

“Killian,” he reminded her. “Or Captain Jones, if you prefer to be formal. And I’m actually a pirate.”

Emma scoffed, then realized, “That old-fashioned ship in the marina! It’s yours!”

Killian nodded. “Aye, the Jolly Roger,” he said. That seemed a bit too on point. “I do charter sails for history buffs, as well as doing movie and television appearances. You’d be surprised what people will pay for a two-week Caribbean cruise with a dashing rapscallion like meself.” He grinned, and once again Emma had the unsettling thought that his teeth were very, very sharp.

“And what brings you here, Captain?”

“My ship is in need of repair, so I’m going to winter over in your lovely town,” he said. 

“Odd; Granny Lucas didn’t mention taking in any lodgers,” Emma noted.

“I’ve made other arrangements,” Killian shrugged.

Maybe he’d leased a place, then. The cottages were usually only available to lease to summer tourists, but she wouldn’t be surprised if one of the owners made an exception.

“You don’t happen to own a bat, do you?” she asked suddenly.

He blinked rapidly, blindsided.

He had beautiful eyelashes.

“Like…a baseball bat?” he asked slowly.

“Never mind,” Emma muttered. She pulled a couple of crumpled bills out of her pocket and set them on the bar. She stood up. “Nice to meet you Mr. - Captain Jones. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I didn’t get your name,” he said. It wasn’t a demand; rather, a polite inquiry. He was allowing her to be mysterious if she chose. Not that it would be hard to find out her name, since she was the sheriff. Still, she appreciated it.

“Emma Swan,” she said.

“See you around, Swan,” he said, low and throaty, and she totally did not shiver.

She left before she could embarrass herself.

~oOo~

Emma’s third date with Walsh led to a fourth.

After each date, Killian-the-bat would give her that angry hiss, and Emma wondered if he were somehow jealous that someone else was taking her time.

But he’d eventually get over it.

Which was probably a good thing, because they had their first school visit of the semester, and if he’d been cranky, he’d have missed out on having dozens of adoring children who cooed at him and gave him all the fruit he could ever want.

Though he wasn’t too crazy about being touched by their sticky fingers. But he allowed it, showing more patience than Emma had ever had.

She saw Killian-the-human several times over the next week; usually at the bar, once, coming out of the hardware store with items she assumed were for ship repair. Each time, he gave her a significant Look that she couldn’t read.

And then it happened, on a night when Emma was walking out of Granny’s diner with a bag full of carryout containers and a couple of donuts in preparation for an overnight shift at The Belfry. 

After three weeks of casual conversation, Killian asked her out for a drink. 

And Emma…she wanted to go.

Even though she barely knew him, she felt a spark with him, something that was more than just the thrill of his smoldering gaze.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” she said.

She hadn’t meant to sound regretful. She shouldn’t feel bad about dating Walsh, right?

“You don’t sound so certain,” Killian observed.

Dammit. “No, I am,” she said firmly. “He’s…nice.”

“All right,” Killian said. “I’ll see you around then, Swan.”

Emma released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That had been harder than she’d expected. And a little part of her had feared he wouldn’t respond well to being ‘friendzoned.’

She watched him walk away, swaggering, then turned and stepped forward - into something very solid.

Walsh.

A deep frown was etched into his features. Emma wondered how long he’d been standing there in the dark, and if he’d heard everything.

“Who was that?” he asked.

Emma didn’t like his tone. Clearly, he had been eavesdropping.

“Just someone wintering over,” Emma said. “We talk occasionally.”

“He seemed to want to do more than talk,” Walsh said. His jaw was clenched, and Emma frowned. Oh, no. They were not going to do this.

“It doesn’t matter what he wanted,” Emma said coolly.

“Come to dinner with me,” Walsh said. It wasn’t a question.

Oh, hell no. She was not going to put up with this possessive bullshit. 

“I have other plans,” she said.

“Like what?” he demanded.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

Something flickered across Walsh’s face, then he abruptly deflated. “Sorry,” he said. “I know I have nothing to worry about. I just don’t want to lose you, Emma.”

Emma studied him, all senses on alert. But he seemed sincere enough. Still… “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” she told him wearily. “Right now, I have to get going.”

She made it to The Belfry just as Ruby was leaving for the day. “I left some bags of popcorn for you for later,” she told Emma as she pulled on her coat. “There’s some Milk Duds, too.”

Emma grinned. “You’re the best, Ruby.”

“I know,” the other woman grinned toothily.

Nights at The Belfry tended to be long. Emma only over-nighted once a week, and she used the time to binge watch shows. The last time she’d done it, Killian-the-bat had sat on her shoulder and squeaked at the screen.

She’d just checked the bats and was about to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave when she heard the front door open.

Emma froze. She could have sworn she locked it.

And then a familiar voice called, “Emma?” and she relaxed. Marginally. Why was Walsh here?

“Walsh, hey,” Emma said cautiously. “We don’t really allow guests this late at night.”

“I’m not a guest, I’m your boyfriend,” he reminded her. 

Emma went over to the front desk, sitting on the edge. Her hand crept over to the lamp on the corner.

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? Is he here?”

Nope. Not doing this.

“Walsh… If you’re going to do this, then I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m not going to put up with someone who doesn’t trust me and stalks me at work.”

Walsh leaned back, staring down at her. But he made no move to leave. Emma braced herself for the inevitable meltdown.

Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.

At her shocked look, he said, “Did you think that would hurt me? It’s a relief, actually,” Walsh said. “Having to pretend to be interested in you is draining. You’re too abrasive, and you don’t trust anyone. Which, admittedly, was the right choice here. But it’s over now, and my master will reward me well.”

His eyes were red. Not bloodshot, but glowing a baleful crimson. “What the fu-”

Then their eyes locked, and Emma felt…something. It writhed around in her mind, clawing into her, leaving her feeling dirty. He was inside her head somehow, and she wanted him out, out, OUT!

Emma jerked her gaze away, and Walsh snarled.

“Why isn’t this working?” Walsh fumed. “You should be mine!” Then he smirked, showing off far too sharp teeth. “Guess we’ll have to do this the fun way, then.”

Emma reacted. Her hand flew to the heavy lamp on the desk corner, and she flung it at Walsh’s head. He didn’t react in time, and it hit him squarely in the forehead.

He didn’t even flinch.

It should have taken him down, or at least disoriented him long enough to continue attacking or escape. No man should have taken a direct hit to the head and just shaken it off.

He wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t human.

So Emma ran.

Her lunge to the side caught Walsh by surprise, and he didn’t immediately react. It bought her a few precious seconds to dart through the door leading towards the cage room.

There was an emergency exit in the back of the sanctuary. Emma sprinted towards it.

Walsh stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

<i>How?!</i> How had he gotten in front of her? It wasn’t possible!

“I’m not here to kill you, Emma,” Walsh said in exasperation. “I’m just going to take you to my master.”

Killian shrieked, beating his wings against the bars of his cage. Walsh ignored him.

“But…nobody said I couldn’t rough you up a bit.” His hands extended towards her, tipped in razor sharp claws.

Killian fell silent.

Emma dropped to the floor and kicked her leg out, hitting Walsh in the knee with bone-breaking force. It didn’t do more than stagger him, however, and he quickly recovered. Emma rolled away, but misjudged her direction and slammed into one of the cages. The bats inside fluttered their wings in agitation.

Walsh lunged towards her.

And then Walsh crashed to the floor. Something bumped and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop before Emma. Walsh’s head, the red fading from his eyes as they slowly dimmed. 

Standing over the body was Killian, the human Killian, dressed in black leather and wielding what looked like a pirate’s cutlass. “Are you all right, Love?” he asked.

His eyes had the same red glow as Walsh’s.

“What the fuck?” Emma shrieked.

Killian gave her a crooked smile.

A fang poked out from behind his lips.

“Apologies, Love,” Killian Jones said. The red was fading from his eyes, though the sharp fangs remained. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

Emma just stared at his teeth.

One of them was chipped. Just like Killian-the-bat’s.

“You’re…you’re…” 

“A vampire, yes,” Killian said. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. But Emma supposed that made more sense than what she’d been about to say: You’re my bat! “As was your…boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Emma muttered. “It was just a couple of dates.”

“Mmph.” He crouched down, examining Walsh’s body. Then, to her horror, he dragged his finger through the small pool of blood and put it in his mouth.

“He’s a neophyte; probably not more than a year since he was changed. Which means his master has to be close by, because a vampire this young seldom strays far from his master.” Killian studied her closely. “Which means he was specifically sent to seduce you. I wonder why?”

Emma didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t know, she wasn’t special. 

“You somehow resisted his attempt to control you,” Killian continued. “That’s a rare gift.”

”You should be mine,” Walsh had said. 

“How can you be a vampire?” There was a shrill edge of panic to her voice. This was too much, far too much.

“It’s a long story,”  he said. “I won’t get into that tonight. All you need to know is that I hunt vampires like him, those who break our laws and hunt humans.”

“But… I’ve seen you during the day.” Walsh, on the other hand, she’d never before sunset. She’d just assumed he was a night owl, not a freaking <i>vampire</i>

“I’m over 300 years old. I’ve developed an immunity to sunlight. I don’t like it, but I can go out in it.”

“Three hun-” Her brain stuttered to a halt. “Are you actually a pirate?”

Killian chuckled. “I have been called such, yes. I prefer ‘dashing rapscallion.’”

“You would,” she scoffed. 

“There’s that spirit,” he said approvingly. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

She tried to back away, forgetting in her panic that the cage was behind her.

“I’ve been here over a month, and you haven’t had any mysterious deaths or illnesses related to blood loss, aye?”

There hadn’t been, actually. The town had been as calm as it always was after the tourist season ended. That didn’t mean Killian didn’t do his hunting elsewhere, but she hadn’t heard anything from the nearest towns, either.

“So…you’ve been living in town as a bat and a human for a month, and no one even noticed?”

“The werewolf knows, but she and I reached an understanding.”

“The…the werewolf…” Emma repeated faintly.

“The lovely Miss Lucas,” Killian said. “She figured out what I was fairly quickly, but we came to an agreement.”

“Ruby…is a werewolf…”

“Aye. She’ll probably be furious that I told you, but she will vouch for me. She knows our laws, and how strictly we enforce them.”

This was all too much. Emma had snapped. She blurted out the next thing that came to mind. “Shouldn’t you be a <i>vampire bat</i>?”

Killian looked pained. “I don’t have the most fearsome bat form, I admit.” And then his expression became lascivious. “But I’m certainly one of the biggest.”

Of course you are, Emma thought. 

Emma’s hands were still shaking. She clenched her fists, hoping to hide the trembling.

He noticed, however, and his face softened.

“I mean you no harm, Swan,” Killian said softly. “I rarely need to partake in human blood, and then only with willing donors. This town is safe from me.” His gaze went to Walsh’s corpse. “His master, however, seems to have no such qualms. It appears we were right about his intentions.”

“Is…is that why you’re here?” Emma asked. 

“To find his master, yes,” Killian said. “We suspected that a powerful old vampire was no longer keeping to our laws, and I was dispatched to track them. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for some time. Though I suppose you’ll want me to find other accommodations,” he added regretfully. “Pity; you have some lovely fruit.” 

Emma assumed that was supposed to be an entendre, but when she looked at his expression, she realized that, no, he actually meant fruit. What kind of vampire fed on fruit? “You can stay for now, until you find something better,” Emma offered. “Although, you will have to put up with the Bat Education Program,” she finished apologetically. “Mary Margaret wants to make you the star. But somehow, I don’t think you mind being the center of attention.”

Killian grimaced. “I’ll tolerate it. But only if the children wash their hands,” he growled

“She’s calling you the ‘am-bat-sador,’” Emma warned.

”Bloody hell,” Killian groaned. “But it will help me guard the children. They’re preferred victims of rogue vampires,” he concluded grimly.

A shiver went down her spine, and this time it wasn’t because of his accent.

Something evil was coming to Storybrooke.

~fin~

[omgpurplefattie]

I am loving 9-1-1 Lone Star lately; I found it via a CQL fusion fanfic by KouriArashi our WWX from Milliways* recommended.

While I enjoy the diversity, the far-out calls and the sense of humour, there is one thing that breaks my heart (in a good way) for very personal reasons.

Twice every episode or so, Rob Lowe's character Owen Strand reminds me of my gay best friend from Finland who died at age 28 in 1992 because of a drunken fall from a sixth floor window.

He had that whole entire brat pack aesthetic going on that Rob Lowe had then as a late 80s / early 90s heartthrob.

Here's the picture of my friend that I still have on my wall, just as a proof of what I am saying.

In fact, he was exactly one week older than Rob Lowe, Wikipedia tells me -- well, Wiki tells me RL's date of birth, and I still know my friend's.

My friend didn't just happen to be drunk on the last night of his life; he was an alcoholic. He was deeply unhappy about several aspects of his life, not least of them being a gay man at a time when local politicians were hailing the raging AIDS epidemic as "nature's way of culling marginal groups".** But one other aspect definitely was his fear of getting older, of no longer being attractive in a world where gay men judged each other solely by looks -- and still largely do, actually, from what I gather from my still extant gay friends.

I remember my Finnish friend coming back from a vacation on Gran Canaria with expensive skin care products, and lecturing me about the need to start taking care of the area around your eyes early on to stave off ageing before it even begins -- with the same heart-felt conviction Owen Strand goes on about skin care in the pilot episode of 9-1-1 Lone Star.

And it worked in the case of Rob Lowe -- obviously it did, just look at that guy at the top of my post, what a thirst trap he is at almost sixty, now playing his heart out in what may just as well turn out the role of his life. I love what he is doing there, what with the self-irony towards the character he has going on, all that skin care, health food, gym bunny metrosexual stuff that makes Owen Strand funny while he still has his deeply serious moments.

That bloke is hot, and I say that as an asexual person.

So, at least twice every episode, I look at Rob Lowe / Owen Strand, and sigh inwardly, "Oh Teukka, if only you could have faced your fears, sobered up, got your shit together and stuck by your skin care / gym routine, that could have been you. You were a language wizard even in your inebriated late twenties, speaking nine languages properly and a couple more via osmosis, and a people person, able to establish rapport with just about anybody; the booming world of the late nineties and early noughts would have been your fucking oyster."

So, new infinitely frustrating hypothetical time travel mission. No longer "Ask my mom why TF she kicked out my dad and kept him from my life when he turned out such a great person when I found him after her death" but instead "Aspirationally show my friend the 2023 Rob Lowe, back in 1992."

Or perhaps both. Life remains puzzling in hindsight.

*Milliways is a journal-based free form pan-fandom RPG I have been in since its founding in 2004; it's a strange sort of fun to 'know' characters there, along the lines of "I don't play video games, but I met Max Caulfield / Atton Rand / Xigbar in Milliways while being Teja / Wen Ning / whoever."

**We have come so far since then, as I keep saying and writing.

[aelfgiure]

You'd been traveling the Rim for years now, never staying in one place for long. Settling trade disputes here, chasing off pirates or beasts there, just generally doing your best to keep people safe and bring more peace and justice to the galaxy. You enjoyed it, even if you did miss the temple once in a while, and the company of other jedi. Then you'd go check in and hoo, MAKER, you were reminded of why you preferred the path of the Sentinel.

This time, mechanical issues sent you planetward. You'd been on your way back from brokering a resolution to a feud between two planets in the same system, when a chunk of meteor blasted through your ship, forcing you to set down for repairs, blast it.

Ah well. These things happen.

The planet was nice enough, thank goodness. While you could endure anything, you liked places with greenery, trees and fields, instead of the brownery of rock and desert. The port was small, barely a refueling station. At least there was a decent mechanic with a reasonably well stocked shop. You did some negotiations, settled things amicably enough considering the circumstances, and went for a walk around the town.

It was one of the prettier places you'd visited in a long time. The old stone walls were well kept, and many people had flowerboxes full of herbs and flowers. The trees, oh the glorious, majestic trees! Homes were built around them to keep them live and growing rather than cut them down. There were tiny courtyard gardens, pockets of greenspace even in the built up parts of the city. It just felt... welcoming.

As the shadows lengthened, you made your way back to your ship. The mechanic and her daughter were still working on it, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. The older woman groped for a spanner, calling out "Desia, hand me the number eight wrench please?"

"Okay mom!" Desia called out, and your breath caught in your chest when the young lady, her hands still full holding up the shield plating, levitated the wrench to her mother's outstretched hand. Called it and gently placed it, using the Force.

"Oh, that was well done!" you exclaimed. "Have you been doing that for long?"

Desia grinned at you, showing the gap where a baby tooth had fallen out to make room for the adult teeth starting to grow in. "Ever since I was a baby, mom says."

"Who are you nattering to now, Desia? We're almost done here - " her mother looked back and nearly dropped the spanner. "Oh. Ah, yes, she's had this talent since she was wee."

She took a deep breath, looking you over. "If she wishes to go to Coruscant with you, to train as a jedi, she has my blessing."

You smile, sensing how much she loved her daughter, wanting only the best for her. "We can discuss this over dinner. I bought some things at the market, if I may share them with you?"

Dinner was fun. Desia and her mother, Kirakta, had a rapport that made you a little wistful. They were both supportive and loving towards each other, and it quite settled your decision. After Desia went to bed, you went to the kitchen to help clean up and saw Kirakta, weeping silently over the sink.

"Are you hurt?" You close the distance, concerned, and she startles, wiping her eyes.

"No, Master Lauhm, it's just... I know it's for the best, but it's hard to let her go."

"Where is she going?" You ask, and take up the sponge to help with the dishes. "I had planned on staying here, to train her. Do you know of a place nearby that I could rent or purchase?"

Kirakta's jaw had dropped open, and you chuckle, gently lifting her chin to close it. "What is it?"

"But.. don't all jedi train at the Temple?" She manages to stammer. "You can stay and train her here?"

"There used to be temples all over the galaxy," you explain. "If my charts are correct, there was one here, once. If I can find it, we'll set up there. I think it's foolish to have only one temple, instead of many. We're supposed to be out here in the galaxy, doing our job as guardians. Damn hard to do that for the Rim worlds when we're all in the Core."

She laughs, and the joy in her signature makes you smile too. "Oh, thank you, thank you so much! I'll help you look!"

The next few days were great fun. You started by teaching mother and daughter about meditation, before taking Desia out with you to find the old temple. It was a pleasant routine - waking with the sunrise, meditation together, and then Kirakta going to work in her shop while you and your padawan walked, and talked, looking for the temple. It didn't take long, finding the abandoned stone building up on the cliff overlooking the town. You helped Desia levitate up to it, cautioning her to stay back while you went in first, just in case there were any surprises to discourage prowlers.

It felt quiet. Not melancholy, just empty of activity, a feel of waiting for the next thing to happen.

"Hello. I am Jedi Master Lauhm Kevvat," you address the empty space courteously. "If there is no objection, I would like to live here and train my padawan here, close to her home and family."

There is silence, then a gust of Force wind blows through the chamber, swirling the dust and fluttering your robes and hair wildly. You cough, then sneeze a few times. So much for dignity, you sigh to yourself. The wind settles, and after you wipe your eyes, you look around.

It's clean. No dust, no grime. A voice speaks to you through the Force, echoing through your soul.

"Welcome, Master. You may stay. All that is asked of you will be that you teach all who approach, seeking to learn, and that in time of need, you grant refuge to all who request it."

You bow deeply. "I so promise, Ancient Masters. Thank you."

Desia was well nigh dancing with joy when she sprang into the temple. "Yes! I heard, it said it was okay, can I bring my friends up to visit? And my mom?"

You laugh, her enthusiasm infectious. "Yes, Desia, Maker bless you. Let's go tell your mother where you'll be, hm?"

Some traditions were made to be broken, you thought to yourself. You were looking forward to learning if this was one.

You are a traveling wizard set out to find your next apprentice. One day you find a young child who is gifted with magic, but instead of taking them away from their family like everyone expects, you settle down in the tiny village to train them.

[zoe-oneesama]

what are your oc's names? and your villian names for them?

I'll assume you mean my ML OCs, so, in reverse order of creation:

Suhayla - A friend of Alix and Freddie's, when people see the group they assume she's the mature soft one, so they're often shocked by how loud her voice is. I haven't developed her too much so I'm still working on her personal style - somewhere between a tomboyish desire to be sporty but liking feminine colors? I think she'd be the most diverse in her wardrobe.

The only real details I've solidified is that she skateboards, is on a roller derby team (where she, Freddie, and Alix mostly meet up), and she's part of Adrien's fan club. But I've also decided she's the kind of fan that is content viewing Adrien as a celebrity, almost fictional character and has no want to meet or get closer to Adrien, despite them going to the same school now:

Freddie's supportive but Suhayla is kinda mortified at the idea of meeting the person who's centerfold she's gushed over thank you very much.

I think she'd have a little brother who's maybe a year or two younger. I want to flesh her out more so I can think of a good akuma for her! Maybe she should have an out of place career goal, like being a software engineer?

Frédérique (or “Freddie”) - I decided from the beginning Freddie would be into Decora Kei who loves rainbows and pastels. Later I decided to have her go to the same school as Kagami (and Ondine), though I haven't decided her sport focus yet. Maybe something surprising like Rugby? I feel like she'd be Alix's inspiration for dying her hair pink.

Despite the fact I draw her more than Suhayla in my sketchbook, Hayla's gotten more spots in Scarlet Lady, whoops! I kinda picture her like the big sis of the group despite her not having any siblings, and I want her to have minimal hardships lol.

Look at her. She's an icon. I'll give her all the accessories I wish I had. Part of me thinks she'd get akumatized for being targeted by the teachers for "dress code violations" (as in they invent rules that specifically target her despite others getting caught in the damage, like only neutral colored nails or limit one hair accessory) but I might be projecting my deep seeded hatred of dress codes.

Tama Rapporte/Shiba - If you remember the Great Hiatus and how it gave birth to the akumasona/miracusona craze, then that's Tama's origin story. 16 year old French-Japanese adopted daughter of the Rapporte family of 5, Tama likes Volleyball, Gymnastics, and Flowers. She's the delivery girl for her family's Floral Shop "Fetching Flowers" and transforms into "Shiba" with the help of the Dog Miraculous (remember, this is before the Zodiac were canon lol).

Her kwami Spittz eats chocolate, which is often stolen from Tama's sister's stash, meaning Tama's alter ego was quickly discovered by her. Luckily her sister doesn't care so long as Tama RESTOCKS HER CHOCOLATE!

Since she's a "miracusona", despite being a separate OC and not a self insert, a lot of my personality was injected into her. You can search my #tama tag to see quite a few comics I drew in her hay-day.

Zoe Rapporte - (Honestly I need to redraw this again because I've got a pixie cut again lol) Since this is a literal self insert, this is my akumasona, who is transformed into the "Enchanted Florist" almost as many times as Mr. Pigeon - thanks to customers.

She's the active manager of her family's flower shop because she's never really wanted to do much of anything. She figures this way her sisters can do what they want to do without worrying about Mom and Dad's "legacy" and since she lacks dreams of her own she's not put out.

Everyday is a trial for Zoe while Hawkmoth is around.

[loosesodamarble]

Captain Faust AU Trivia

Some thoughts about my Captain Faust AU which is part of these two fics.

Morgen and Nacht genuinely are known as the Ivory and Ebony Deers in this au.

Guardian Angel and Hell's Gatekeeper are other nicknames for the two of them. You can probably guess who is which.

Morgen is on good terms with Fuegoleon and Dorothy.

Fuegoleon and Morgen are righteous hearts who can see the potential in every person when given the time to and want to inspire hope in the populace.

Morgen and Dorothy (when she's awake) are both optimistic and friendly individuals. They are the friendliest of the captains and try to get the others to socialize more.

I see Morgen, Fuegoleon, and Dorothy being a good friend group in this au. They casually hang out as well as encourage cooperation between their squads.

Morgen is also close to Owen, having taken lessons in healing from him. Thanks to years of training, Morgen is known as one of Clover's greatest healers.

Nacht and Finral are friendly due to being equally tired with Yami's antics. Nacht still gives Finral grief for being a flirt though. Mostly because Finral has flirted with both Morgen and Nacht, mistaking them for women during their initial introductions.

Nacht still hangs out with Yami plenty. They handle some of the "dirtier" jobs that are above usual Magic Knight work. They've made people "disappear" from the public. But they also drink and gamble together.

There is tension between Nacht and Jack as to who is the better rival for Yami. It could be a three-way rivalry for the guys but no. Yami can only have one true rival apparently.

Morgen and Yami had a brawl over whose squad Nacht would be the vice captain of. It ended in a draw and Nacht just ended up picking Morgen.

Yami looks back on that day fondly because he loves a good brawl. Morgen cries over it because he'd never been so violent in his life and he fought his friend!

Morgen is a very sweet and protective captain. He's been called both "mom" and "dad" by various squad members. That makes Nacht the squad's weird but endearing uncle.

The only thing working against his perfectly pure and innocent image is how Nacht disciplines unruly squad members while posing as Morgen.

How does Nacht not get caught based on the mana he puts out? People are stupid when they're afraid, that's all.

Nacht is largely dismissed as useless by most of the squad. But for those who know how competent he can be, he's greatly feared and admired.

Part of Nacht's diligence as a vice captain is him making up for lost time when it comes to having Morgen's back. Another part is not wanting people to go down the path he almost wandered down (only living for pleasure and not caring for morality).

While their parents have been arrested for their work for devils, the public is still debating whether or not Nacht might be using it.

Nozel and Nacht would have some kind of rapport as Nozel seeks his advice regarding how to handle devils and curses. They're not exactly friends but when Nozel found out Nacht was indeed a devil host, he didn't even bat an eye. Forbidden Magic or not, Nacht was a good ally and Nozel wasn't going to lose him.

After the elf reincarnation incident, Morgen and Patry have a tense friendship. Morgen wants to see Patry repent for his crimes but is also pissed that Patry's Light Magic made Morgen the #1 suspect as the traitor.

Morgen regularly cuddles with the devil quartet. Sometimes in his own office.

This has led to many incidents where a squad member will walk in and note the small "plushies" their captain keeps in a corner.

Nacht is still working undercover in Spade while being the Aqua Deer's vice captain.

Knowing of the devil activity in Spade, he would definitely want to help Asta bring out Liebe's full power as soon as possible.

Morgen actually has contracts with the devil quartet as well. How very unexpected of the picture perfect, angel of a man Morgen.

Using the power of all four devils, Morgen and Nacht have a combo spell called "Sacred Hell."

Here's how it works: a world of shadows rises from the ground in a maze. There are spots of light scattered throughout that people will think lead to a way out but instead just further disorient them. Nacht has full access to the space through the shadows and Morgen can zip through the passages of light. The shadows can grow and distort depending on how strong Morgen makes the lights, meaning that the maze of darkness can just change on a whim. The four devils' power fortifies the space making it near impossible for someone to break in or out. The twins' attacks are stronger within the area as well.

[arcane-ish]

Arcane characters and their parental figures

Piggybacking off my post a while ago about how Caitlyn is almost too nice and well adjusted for this fictional world, what struck me most about her is how sweet and generally supportive her parents seem to be. Yes even with the tension they have with over protectiveness and some disapproval. But the scene where they fix up her injuries just felt like a really heartwarming and natural rapport.

This in turn made me think of how sweet Jayce is generally with his mom. 

And that in turn made me think that at least in League canon Ekko is supposed to have loving parents. 

When I look at the characters in Arcane who I think are/will be “white hats” (ie “good guys”/”well motivated guys”), those are Caitlyn, Jayce, Heimer, Ekko.  

They still might screw up and screw up badly, but they imo all have an optimism to them as opposed to characters who are motivated by spite or desperation, that to me makes the most sense because they had loving homelives. 

(with Heimer as the exception, since we don’t really know whether Yordles, his species even has families, for all we know they just pop out of thin air, but generally the place where he comes from, Bandle City, seems super idyllic [watch Arcane contradict me and add a flashback with him having disapproving yordle parents who never wanted him to travel the world or something] [but I doubt it]) 

On the other hand we have Jinx who has a very dysfunctional father figure and with Viktor it is really striking how he doesn’t seem to have any family and siblings. He is mostly hiding his efforts to heal himself and is going through it completely alone, again as a stark contrast to Jayce who we see with his mother, running some things past her.  

If Viktor has parents, they probably weren’t great due to this line that nobody ever believed in him, so he believes in himself. 

Then we have imo the group of Vi, Mel and Sevika. Sevika mentions her father in passing and it sounds complicated, but not completely hostile. As a character, we do see her be mean spirited (ie telling Jinx hurtful things) but we also see traces of loyalty. 

Then we have Vi, who had a pretty traumatic childhood with a lot of loss. We see her struggle with her temper and with dejection. But her big theme is how she has a good heart despite her upbringing (and of course a positive parental figure at least for a while in Vander). 

A really interesting one to me is Mel. We don’t know where exactly her character will end up and 100% of what her motives are. In Act 3, it did seem like she was motivated by idealism (ie defending the Piltover way of life against Noxus), but there might be other motives as well (like getting to the top of Piltover’s society, making a name for herself). 

In the flashback where her mother forces her to watch somebody murdered in front of her, I would say clearly qualifies as bad parentage and it’s interesting that she displays “a good heart” even back then. This makes me wonder, are we supposed to get from this that we was inherently good despite her dark circumstances? Or did she get it from somebody after all, like maybe her father is nice or she had a loving nanny? I also wonder whether her relationship with her mother will end up being more layered than it might seem (again killing people in front of Mel, forcing her into making horrible choices, calling her weak, sending her away), maybe with a dose of “she loves her daughter in her own way”. 

BTW the more I think of it, the more odd it feels that in a show that is so heavily about family including parents and children (again showing us parents that aren’t essential to the plot at all for Jayce and Caitlyn, having even side characters like Sevika or Signed talk about parentage) , Viktor is the main character is who completely devoid of any parental/familial presence. 

(okay Ekko and Heimer also don’t have a parently presence in the show, I’m just infering that they have/had positive childhoods) 

(now I kind of want a fic where Ekko’s mom or dad tries to appraoch Silco to find out what happened to Poweder because they can tell how distressed Ekko is about Powder) 

[heyymikki]

"Trying being the operative word there," she replied with a chuckle. "Thank you, though. If I ever need someone to read over my writing, I take your cheerleading as an offer to do just that." It was a tease, mostly, but also a silent question of whether he'd be up for that. "I'm glad to hear that everything's going well there. I know running your own business can be nerve-wracking... you don't really have anyone to point fingers at if it doesn't work out in the end. It's clear you have good rapport with your customers, though, and you genuinely care and believe in your product." She smiled. "I think so, too. I know you have a lot of memories -- both good and bad -- back in New York, but... sometimes a change of scenery can give you a new lease on life." She grew quiet, glancing out over the water of the river passing by a couple yards away. Mikayla couldn't help the image of the two of them that began to form in their head. It mirrored this one, but they were much older than they were now, taking in the view in comfortable silence. An overwhelming sadness took over her as she realized she would likely never get that after how she'd left, how she'd hurt him.

"I think I needed that, too." She hesitated, needing to communicate her thoughts carefully for fear of breaking whatever they'd managed to pull together from the shattered pieces of their relationship. "New York will always be my home, but... there was all this tension in my body. I hadn't had a chance to relax in years having to take care of my mom for half my life, so when it came time for me to start living how I wanted to... you came into my life." She pulled her leg up into the seat with her, wrapping her arms around it. "I don't think I ever told you, but I've never actually been in a relationship before. It's almost embarrassing to admit now that I'm in my thirties, but I never knew what it was like to fall for someone. In stories or movies, they make it seem like this wonderful thing that could change your life, but that's not how it was for me; it was terrifying." She looked over towards him. "The things I had to do to take care of my mom... I never thought someone would look at me the way you did, so when we kissed, when I realized I'd fallen for you..." She looked away again, the familiar sensation of tears welling in her eyes. "You were so good, and the love story you had with your wife, I knew there was no way I could give you something like that. I convinced myself you deserved better than me, that I was doing you a favor by leaving."

Brayden nodded and listened intently as he followed her out towards the deck. Taking a seat next to her in one of the chairs he saw that were evenly spread out for that space. "Well, look at the good. No more wasted prerequisites. You can focus on all the interesting stuff." But he knew that nervousness fell upon a wide group of people. Nervousness trails confidence like a shadow and if it meant anything , he would try his best to reassure her she was bound for greatness. "I'm sure you will do amazing. I just hope your teachers are up to par, I think that might be the most difficult thing to manage." He smiled. Education can change anyone but a good teacher can change everything. "Are you sure about that- the whole getting in your head?" He teased back. "If you ever need someone cheering you on - I'll always be on the sidelines for that." Brayden mused with another smile. "But really, I think just focus on what you're capable of. It's not a competition. Everyone has their strengths. Focus on that. You have navigated tougher situations I'm sure. You've got this." He spoke with promise. "It has. I am still trying to close up some old accounts back in New York but I can't complain. Busy is good. And change is even better. I think it was a little long overdue."

[whiningsanddribbles]

3

EVIDENCE-BASED & TRAUMA-INFORMED

3

Dec 5th 2012

The plane lands.  It is snowing. I’ve never seen snow before. The flight from CA to Utah is a brief 55 minutes. In that time I'd managed to get to know the blonde woman to some degree. She was 24, and had been doing this transporting thing for almost a year. She kept telling me she had never been to Alpine Academy but had heard of how beautiful it was. She said it was the best the industry had to offer. This was supposed to make me feel better but I was still in active rage thinking of how little my mother had to say as I was getting pulled out of my home in the middle of the night. While the woman went on about how beautiful the campus was supposed to be I had intrusive thoughts of running away the second we got off the plane, running and screaming to someone , anyone, and declaring that I had been kidnapped; please arrest this criminal, and bring me back home to my mother who hates me. Another thought enters of getting to the facility, promptly excusing myself to tinkle between pleasant introductions  and hanging myself with the belt I was wearing off of the bathroom door knob. I thought of how my mother would react to that, if she would regret sending me away, if she'd cry. But alas, I had built rapport with the transporter and so that meant I wanted her to like me, and I could not accuse her of kidnapping me to a stranger, and to the second; I didn't actually want to die.

In a haze, somehow we'd gotten to the campus. It was tucked into the smallest roads in rural Utah, for miles and miles all you could see was white. The world looked as if someone had laid down a thick, fuzzy white blanket. I scoffed but really, I had never seen anything so beautiful but I would not allow myself to find any of this good. The transporter gave me a hug once we had gotten to a little house at the front of campus. Looked normal enough.

She told me I'd be okay. The hug was jarring, as I wasn't touched often, or ever. I remember wanting her to squeeze me tighter, and holding on for slightly too long, which made her squeeze hard one last time in a genuinely melancholy attempt at an apology for having to let go. I needed someone to put their arms around me and not let go, keep all my pieces together so I could not collapse into a heap of paper mache on the ground.

I'm introduced to a woman who works there who calls herself an associate, named suzie. She's a great big woman who is wildly caucasian. Up until this point let me add, the only white people I'd ever been around were my own immediate family. And even they were used to being the only white people they really knew either. Maybe my mother had some other white girlfriends but i hardly knew them. My friend groups at home and the school district I was in very much comprised of minority groups, from students to teachers. I had never seen so many red faces before utah. She takes me into a room and does an inventory on the things my mother had packed for me. I'm only allowed to keep some of it. 4 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, 8 socks, 2 pairs of shoes. At this point I'm still too much in shock to put up a fight, and to add to it; I can barely see through the tears that have been constantly and consistently free flowing through my face for at least 5 hours now, without breaks.

She marks off things from a paper checklist. I am quiet as I slide the phone I snuck into the facility under a couch, and make a mental note to come back for it. She keeps unpacking my things and I ask her when I get to speak to my parents. Two weeks. I can not contact them for two weeks. Part of the acclimation process, she says. I go through the backpack my mother had packed me while Suzie goes through the suitcase. You would've guessed my mom was a stay at home martha stewart with all the baked goods she packed me. She knew i wouldn't eat these, i hadn't eaten anything but saltines for 3 weeks, who was she performing for?

I plead and cry to call home. The answer is no. Another woman comes into the room, an associate named ashlyn. She is very, very pregnant. She can't be older than 22, and she's stunningly beautiful with long blonde hair and perfect big lips around her perfect teeth. She is sweet to me but tells me sternly that crying will not help the situation, and that I just need to submit- I mean integrate. I sob for another two hours alone in a room called the “pretty room”. 3 great big couches along a coffee table with a phone, and large photos of the founders of the facility, and the founder of this particular home, lila bjorkland and gene smith respectively. The house I'm in is called Gene smith. That's our little section. There are 9 other girls making us a perfect home of ten troubled girls. This is how each house on the alpine is.

Alpine Academy is a school and residential treatment center -for profit organization put on by the Utah Youth Village, run by the founder's son; Eric bjorkland. They are mormon. The whole staff is mormon. Every adult I would come into contact with for weeks was mormon, who was in charge of the facility. And they were all related in a gross act of nepotism. Here's the breakdown of the Alpine academy system, as per their website:

Alpine Academy was created in 2001 as a program of Utah Youth Village, a nonprofit organization founded in 1969. Both our Lakeview Campus for males and our Mountain View Campus for females are licensed as residential treatment facilities in the state of Utah. Each is certified as a non-public school.

Treatment takes place in a family-style environment, which provides a nurturing, individualized, and strength-based treatment environment.

In addition to an intensive therapeutic environment, we provide comprehensive academic services that are designed to help improve your child’s academic self-esteem and to get them back on-track to be successful at home, or in college.

Alpine Academy is a nationally certified Teaching-Family Model treatment program. Through its strength-based, trauma-informed, individualized approach, students are taught healthy behaviors in a setting that replicates family, school, and community life.

Another click and you get their explanation of the teaching family model:

The Teaching-Family Model

The Teaching-Family Model (TFM) is a philosophy and practice of care and treatment that prioritizes therapeutic relationships with caregivers as the primary conduit of effective treatment in supportive family-style settings.

Family-style relationships are seen as essential to healthy development of social, relational, and interpersonal skills. The TFM is a strength-based, comprehensive, and trauma-informed model of care that builds positive change while remaining focused on the holistic development of the person served.

The Model is rooted in cognitive behavioral theory and can be used with children, youth, and adults with a range of diagnoses and symptoms, as well as with those who have experienced significant trauma, maltreatment and loss.

The Teaching-Family Model is an evidence-based approach which is fully integrated at both the individual and the organizational level. It provides effective individualized and trauma-informed treatment services to children, youth, adults, and families.

Through peer-reviewed research and clinical practice, the Teaching-Family Model is recognized to be cost-effective, replicable, and highly effective for all participants.

TFM & TFA

FFPSA: FEDERALLY APPROVED ACCREDITOR

TRAUMA-INFORMED TREATMENT MODEL

RESEARCH & IMPLEMENTATION SCIENCE

ACCREDITED AGENCIES AND CERTIFIED STAFF

ENSURES PERSONS AND FAMILIES SERVED HAVE VOICES AND CHOICES

MOVES THEORY INTO PRACTICE

EMPOWERS MILLIONS OF INDIVIDUALS AND FAMILIES

Tall over their website they keep telling you it's evidence based, yet anywhere you click; somehow semmes to be a lack thereof. Maybe if you type it out enough it will be true. What the “teaching family model REALLY IS, is a made up concept. In fact when you google it, you can find no evidence that it works better than any other treatment model, what you CAN find is how substantially more cost effective it is when you're running a for-profit business.

The TRADEMARKED FTM (family teaching model) was developed by a student of Kansas University in the 1960s named Gary Timbers and researched by Montrose wolf, who was the inventor of time-out as a learning tool to shape behavior. You Have Montrose himself to thank for the way all of the boomers were parented by their parents. We know how well that all went, and how loved that generation was.

Basically what it is, is a play. Yes, a theatrical play. It's a makeshift version of a nuclear family. A father, a mother, and associates.

Seems easy enough to understand. Here's how it worked at Alpine Academy:

The moment I arrived I was given something called a skill card. Each day you had the chance to “make your privileges' '. Privileges were being able to talk to your friends, have a sweet snack, and wear makeup at the lowest level called daily. And, daily, you had the opportunity. After you'd gained trust at that level for the amount of time the staff decided, they'd move you up to the next level called weekly.  These were the two main levels. At weekly you had the opportunity to earn privileges on a weekly basis, which meant more could go wrong. Because when you didnt make your privileges, you had to sit at a wooden table, speak to nobody, were starved of food, without access to any tools of self expression like makeup, couldn't listen to music, couldn't read personal books, and had to write essays on your behavior and what went wrong. For a day, this seems medieval but it seems doable, but at a weekly level it meant for a whole week this is what you had to be okay with.

Everyone had the chance to make their privileges by a series of points on your skill card. Each good behavior would earn you 1000 positive points, each negative would earn you negative points. The problem was this isn't an exact science and it was to the discretion of staff. This meant that if you didn't make 10,000 positive points a day, by the end of the day; no privileges. To the table, you go. And you'd have a list of skills you'd be working on at the top of the card. A list of arbitrary skills like “saying ok” “accepting feedback'', “following instructions”. There were over 200 to choose from but you could only have up to 4 at a time. Then finally there was the last level, “achievement” this meant no more points. This meant at the end of the day you had to write down why you thought you deserve your privileges with your words, and the staff had to tell you why you didn't. Achievement was the last phase until transitioning home.

The standard time that each person would move up a level varied. It took me 8 months to move from daily to weekly because I wouldn't say ok when an adult gave me feedback I didn't agree with. I would not indoctrinate smoothly. This became a problem. But let's go back to that first week.

I wouldn't meet my house parents until days later, on account of me arriving on their  holiday week off. My stomach lurched, and i realized i hadn't eaten or drank anything for almost an entire 48 hour period and basically lost every ounce of water in my body through my tear ducts.  The associate heard my stomach from 5 feet away and realized i had to be hungry, and escorted me to the dining table for breakfast. As I sit down I'm watching 9 girls stare at me and trying to avoid eye contact with them all. I eat my oatmeal trying not to feel their eyes on me.

In the weeks following I'd learn all of these girls names, reasons for being here and familial quirks. Some of them would become my  best friends, lovers. One of them, my first love.

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x05 Review

The Quinceañero was a truly historic ep featuring the first time two boys have ever kissed on a Disney show. Let’s dig in!

We got the second same-sex kiss in Disney history tonight, Big Shot had the first last Friday, and the first kiss between two boys in Disney history. It’s a huge step forward. That’s not to say that Disney is going to start approving more same-sex kisses or lgbtq relationships or characters but the door is now open and at least some other shows and movies will be able to eventually follow in HSMTMTS steps.

Really nice cover of The Climb, Joe has such a great voice. It was cute that young Seb had watched young Carlos’ dance vid and felt inspired. Frankie and Joe being an irl couple certainly helps give Seblos a good rapport but it also helps that creator and showrunner Tim Federle is an openly gay man himself. I think if a straight man was showrunner we probably wouldn’t get such dedication to Seblos as a couple. 

It was a really funny ep too: Carlos saying his love language is riddles, Ricky asking Nini who they talk to when doing their confessionals, Carlos saying Miss Jenn was a master of smoke and mirrors, Benjamin Mazzara and Mike Bowen interacting. My personal favourite gags were when Big Red said he always wanted a nickname and Kourtney immediately did an office stare and when Nini said Picasso was a terrible person.

Gina still going through it. Kourtney is right that it doesn’t really make sense that Gina is now going to all this trouble for Carlos but to be honest the writing and pacing has been disjointed so far this season so a lot of things aren’t flowing as well as they need to. Is what Gina regrets convincing Ricky to go back on stage as that helped get Rini back together? That’s petty but fair and also true to teenage emotions (though she shouldn’t beat herself up too much, Rini were clearly on the path to getting back together by that point anyway).

Jesus Christ, Ricky needs to read the room. Last ep he correctly realized that Gina wouldn’t want to hear about his Nini issues and tried to stop Big Red from mentioning them but now he’s just doing it himself? Obviously they’re trying to drill in the fact that for now Rina is one sided but it’s a little much. Also really doesn’t make sense that Ricky wouldn’t go to Kourtney or Big Red for this kind of advice.

Sofia Wylie was killing it this ep, both her and Joe are showstoppers. A Dancer’s Heart was great and she did a good job of acting on the verge of tears almost the entire ep

At least EJ actually thought to ask Gina how she’s feeling though and she clearly appreciated it after she got over her shock. It does seem that reports of Portwell’s demise were greatly exaggerated, with the music and the longing stares they’re setting up for at least EJ to have a crush on Gina. Hell even Mazzara picked up on it at the end. I had noted last week that it seemed like Gina’s story line in S2 was being thrown out of balance by the writers dropping a planned Portwell plot and sure enough this week we actually begin to see Gina’s story arc not being entirely her pining over Ricky. 

EJ also benefits by being given something to do instead of just standing around in the back. I’m glad he took Mazzara up on the AV club offer and they have a nice mentor-mentee relationship going on. It’s also a nice little parallel with 1x05 when Gina told off EJ and had a moment with Ricky and now in 2x05 Gina tells off Ricky and has a moment with EJ. 

Matt seemingly dismissed Portwell as a friendship rather than even hinting at something between them. I guess he could have been told to keep it under wraps as much as possible but odd that they wouldn’t hype it a bit; it’s not like this came completely out of left field, people were wondering if Portwell might happen because of the moment they had in 1x10 and the facetime call they had before S2. Sofia has already said that Gina will have love interests this season and EJ being one, even if it’s brief, would make whole lot of sense since there’s really no one else for except Jack who only shows up much later and doesn’t seem to be in more than an ep or two.

Rini was sweet tonight. Yes Ricky is being clingy which stems in large part from his mom’s abandonment and in fairness Ricky and Nini have probably been used to spending much of their time with each other since they were kids. Loved that ‘I think you kinda you know’’ call back tonight. Looks like Nini will be cast as the Rose which should be interesting.

Miss Jenn is pulling Mike Bowen, Ben Mazzara, and Zach Roy. Good for her! Jike shippers certainly feasted tonight as Mike crashed a teen bday party just to see Miss Jenn and we got confirmation that everyone’s fave Disney Dilf was born in the 70s and must be no older than 51.

Well gotta love Lily’s commitment to bringing down East High and drinking scalding hot black coffee. She really seems like she just stepped off the set of Glee

Really hope we see those puppies and man was that wolf adorable

Not both HSMTMTS and Love Victor both making Okay Boomer jokes (it worked when Pilar said it to Felix but not when Ricky said it to his dad)

Big Red exposing Kourtney and Howie was good and it looks like their plot kicks into high gear next ep

Bet Tim thought he was real clever for that shot of Mazzara, Mike, and Miss Jenn in a triangle

A well shot ep except for one weird  and abrupt cut from Mazzara saying Caswell to Seblos outside the barn

Looking Ahead:

EJ stopping Gina from leaving would certainly further their relationship and would parallel him being the one to bring her back in S1. I still don’t get why they didn’t just use the Valentine’s chocolates as a plot device to further this plot; just have EJ secretly send them as he was also lonely and you can still have Gina think they were from Ricky.

From what I’ve seen online this Portwell hint has been controversial. It’s true that there’s an age gap between the characters of 2ish years and a much bigger one between the actors but I don’t think that will stop Tim as he already had EJ date Nini. I’ve also seen comments that it would be a bad idea since EJ is leaving at the end of S2 once he graduates but he’s not actually leaving, they’ll keep him around in some fashion until the current juniors graduate. 

So far it seems like Rini is the Rucas of hsmtmts, Rina is the Lucaya, and Portwell is the Joshaya.

Kowie starts progressing a bit next ep and we may possible see Antoine next week or the week after according to Larry.

Presumably Ricky’s clinginess starts causing trouble between him and Nini.

Still so funny that North High just up and decided to do Beauty and the Beast just to bring down East High.

Until next week wildcats

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

veracity - v. dunn

As promised, here’s one of our many resident himbos, Vince Dunn, in “I didn’t realize wer were dating.” As I’m sure a lot of other writers have experienced lately, reblogs have definitely been down, so I would love it if you’d give a reblog if you like it. I also read the tags! Alternately, feel free to keysmash in my inbox or let me know what your favorite parts were. 

word count: 4.9k+

warnings: light sexual content (brief)

Aly Kalinski had never bothered leaving her home town. Why would she? She loved St. Louis. She was born there, went to public schools in the city, and barely moved ten miles away from home for her art degree at SLU. For all its faults, she loved her city. Aly met Vince her sophomore year of college, an accidental run-in at her favorite sandwich shop that had turned into a friendship that had turned into a relationship. So it was a no-brainer decision for Aly to stay once she graduated, getting a position teaching middle and high school art at a school in the suburbs and a loft in downtown. She didn’t want to leave her parents, or her city. Or Vince. 

They had just gotten together, and it really hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone but them. Her older sister rolled her eyes when Aly told her, saying that “it was only a matter of time. You two practically act like an old married couple already.” Her parents were shocked even less. Vince’s teammates had actually been some of the biggest perpetrators in the first place, not-so-subtly leaving them in rooms together at parties and encouraging Aly to admit the feelings she wasn’t even sure she had until a few months ago. But it had happened organically, so naturally that Aly really couldn’t even put a pin on the point where their friendship had turned into romance. All she knew was that she was falling hard for Vince Dunn, and for once in her life, she wasn’t trying to stop herself. 

September

Clashing teeth and her hands running through his hair and his fingernails digging into the backs of her thighs was all Aly felt as Vince held her up against the door. “Vin, bedroom,” Aly gasped, pulling away for air. 

“Mhm,” he said absentmindedly, his lips trailing kisses down the column of her neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. He walked backwards into his room, dropping her down on the bed. She fumbled with the buttons on her shirt as he frantically pulled his belt off. God, it had been too long since they had touched each other. Vince had only recently returned to St. Louis for training camp and the start of pre-season, but he had been so exhausted from drills and scrimmages that all he could manage on nights they got together was curl into Aly’s side with some take out and turn on reruns of Kitchen Nightmares. She had visited him in Toronto for two weeks in July and August — it didn’t always work out so perfectly, but she was thankful that teaching meant most of her summers were free — and they had obviously had sex while they were there, but she had been missing it more than she wanted to admit. Missing him. 

So when they went out to a downtown bar with the rest of the team to celebrate the end of training camp, and Aly didn’t have work the next day, they were both more than happy to indulge in a little liquid courage. Which meant a couple of  drinks and a few more flirty touches later and the pair made their excuses to the rest of the group, Vince pulling up his Uber app before they were even out the door. And they weren’t exactly subtle about it  — Sammy had definitely shouted “USE PROTECTION” while Vince threw him a middle finger  — but they they needed each other too much to really give a fuck. 

Vince trailed his fingers up her now-bare sides, the clasp of her bra falling open with a well-practiced flick. Aly palmed him over his jeans, trying half-heartedly to reverse their positions. Vince groaned. “Not tonight, baby. I need you.” Well, it’s not like she was going to argue with that. Her leggings came off in record time. His jeans followed. Aly dropped her head into the crook of his neck as he slid into her. God, they could do this a million times and she’d never get used to how good he felt. “You’re fuckin’ incredible, Aly, you know that?” Vince gasped out. 

She pressed a kiss onto his shoulder. “You might've mentioned it once or twice, but feel free to keep going, Dunn,” she said. 

He quickened his pace. “I will.” Ten minutes and two orgasms later, she was wrapped in Vince’s arms, trying to savor every last moment before she had to get up and use the bathroom. “I meant what I said, you know?” Vince said, one hand carding through her hair. “You really are incredible, Aly. And when we’re together…” He paused, searching for the right words. 

“There’s only a few things in my life that have always come easy. Hockey, never being able to say no to ice cream, and you. I never feel like I have to be anyone other than exactly who I am when I’m with you, and I don’t know if you know just how meaningful that is for me. I need it, and I need you.” Aly smiled, turning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. This was the closest he’d gotten so saying he loved her, and she’d take it. 

January

Aly sipped her champagne, her eyes surveying the downtown St. Louis ballroom where she found herself on a Saturday evening. Her free hand fingered with the sequin-adorned cloth of her dress, brushing up against the thigh-high slit. It wasn’t something she would have ever bought for herself, but she loved it. It caught the light like nothing she’d ever seen and Vince’s jaw had nearly fallen off the second he saw her when he picked her up for the gala. He had bought it for her, too, insisting that if he had invited her the least he could do was spare her the expense of going out and buying one on her own.

Her job paid well for a teacher, especially one in their first few years, but she wasn’t about to complain when Vince gave her his card and sent her into the shopping district to find a dress for the night. He had told her to get something stunning, and she had delivered in spectacular fashion. It was the Blues’ big fundraising gala for the year, an annual charity event to benefit the children’s hospital. Essentially, the night was an opportunity to party on the team’s dime while wining and dining Midwestern elite in a bid to get them to open up their checkbooks. It was something that Alexandra Kalinski was proving surprisingly adept at; even though she didn’t have nearly the rapport with some of the businessmen and philanthropists as most of the players and their partners did, she was able to turn on the same “teacher” charm she used on back-to-school nights, lay the accent on a little thicker than she usually would, and tug at the heartstrings of multi-millionaires with a story of a seventh grader in one of her intro painting classes who had been treated for leukemia in the hospital’s oncology ward. They couldn’t write the checks fast enough. 

But Aly found herself at the bar a few hours in, next to Sammy as Vince smooth-talked someone she vaguely recognized as an exec for the Cardinals. Transitioning from friendship to being a couple, at least in regards to their social lives, had been much easier than she had thought. It had all just been so natural that people probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t been for the looks she gave him, or her now-permanent spot on the “good chair” in the family box — that everyone else claimed was too lumpy but Aly swore up and down was the most comfortable place in the whole room  — or the time Colton had walked in on them hooking up in a supply closet at the Enterprise Center during a wine tasting with season ticketholders. But she had loved everything in their relationship so far, loved how welcoming all of the other WAGs were and how happy everyone had been for them when they finally got together. “God, it was about time,” Sammy had said. 

She could see that the person Vince was talking to had started making his way over to the reception table, where all the donations were being collected, and caught his eye just as he was being swept into yet another conversation. Vince liked people, there was no doubt about it, and he loved being able to help out a cause as incredible as the children’s hospital, but after almost four hours of schmoozing and small talk it was beginning to take a toll on even him. Aly gave him a tiny nod, a signal that anyone else probably would have missed, but one that Vince understood instantly. She was coming to get him. Alexandra was by his side in thirty seconds flat, her hand resting between his shoulder blades while she smiled apologetically to the man across from them. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a headache and have had a bit too much to be driving myself home. Would you mind taking me?” 

Vince nodded, trying to keep his enthusiasm dampened. “Of course, babe. No problem.” He gave the businessman his best PR smile. “Sorry to have to leave so abruptly, but duty calls. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and supporting such a great cause, it really means a lot to me and the whole team.” With a perfunctory handshake, they began heading towards the exit, his hand gripping hers as they wove through the crowd. “Thanks for that, Aly,” he said as he opened up the passenger door for her. “I really was running on empty there.”

She smiled softly back at him. “Always.”

May 

Vince’s arm was draped casually over the back of Aly’s chair, his fingertips dancing over her shoulder. She was beaming up at the couple under the flower-covered wedding chuppah at the end of the aisle, leaning into Vince’s side. Her cousin Olivia was getting married, her and her soon-to-be wife Yara had been together for years and had finally decided to take the next step. When she got the invitation four months earlier, she hadn’t hesitated to invite Vince as her plus one. They had been dating for a little under a year by that point, but seeing as how most of her family was local — some of her mom’s family was in Wisconsin, but nobody really aside from that — he had already met everyone important. 

The ceremony went by in the blink of an eye, Yara and Olivia broke the glasses, and everyone began milling over towards the barn for the reception. Olivia and Yara had already met Vince some six months before, and had immediately taken to each other. The brides came over to their table after thanking everyone for coming, and dinner was served. She had never seen anyone eat as many dinner rolls in one sitting as Vince did.

---

“Alexandra!” Aly heard an excited voice from the other corner of the room over the cacophony of the music, and barely turned her head quickly enough to see who had called her name before she was pulled into a warm hug. 

Aly laughed when she saw who it was. “Nice to see you, Aunt Ruth. Aunt Ruth, this is Vince. Vince, this is my Aunt Ruth,” Aly said, gesturing to the woman across from them. 

Vince held out his hand, but Ruth waved it off. “We’re huggers here, Vince. She brought you to the wedding. You’re practically family.” She raised her eyebrows at the couple. “When’s it going to be your turn, hm?” 

Aly groaned. “Aunt Ruuuth.” 

Ruth shrugged. “I’m just saying. Your bubbe’s not getting any younger, and I’m sure she’d love to see some of her grandchildren with kids of their own.” 

“How about we, uh, get off of that subject,” Aly said, her cheeks burning. “That’s up to this one, after all,” she said, patting Vince on the arm. Vince ducked his head, understanding the grip of Aly’s hand on his arm as I love this woman but I swear to God if you don’t get me out of here I think I might combust.

He smiled apologetically to the older woman, feigning a glance at his watch. “The ceremony was amazing, Ruth, but I think I’ll have to be taking Aly home now. We’ve got early breakfast plans tomorrow and I’m sure you know how this one gets when she doesn’t get a full night of sleep.” Aly squeezed his hand in appreciation. 

“Of course,” Ruth said, smiling at the pair. She winked as they turned towards the door. “But think about it.” 

Aly ran her hand through her hair as soon as they turned the corner into the dirt parking lot. “Thanks for that, Vin. We don’t have breakfast plans, though?” 

Vince shrugged, an impish smile on his face. “Guess we do now.”

October

“I bought that tea you like,” Vince said from his spot on the couch. “I didn’t want you to be over here while you’re looking after Henry and run out.” Henry was Vince’s rottweiler, a rambunctious eleven month old that he had adopted at the middle of last season. 

Aly smiled as she opened the cupboard, seeing her prized brand of Irish Breakfast next to his favorite type of coffee. “Thanks for that, Vin.” 

He shrugged as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t mention it.” 

The Blues were about to leave for their first real road trip of the year, and it was an unspoken agreement by this time in their relationship that Aly would stay over at his apartment while he was away. Early on in the relationship, she’d just stop by a few times a week to water his plants, and then he got a few fish, and then Henry came along. It didn’t take much convincing from Vince for Aly to agree to look after them; Henry loved her almost as much as he did Vince, and getting to see him before and after school helped to curb some of the loneliness she felt in Vince’s absence. 

She turned down the hallway, taking her bag into his bedroom. He had a guest room that would have been just as convenient to stay in, but she had grown used to the feel of his sheets and liked having the ensuite bathroom. Plus, she had already not-so-subtly taken over one of the drawers in his dresser. Her bag had the jeans, button downs, and blouses she’d need for work — her school mostly adhered to a smart casual dress code, plus she was an art teacher — but there were plenty of sleep shirts, underwear, and leggings in the dresser. If push came to shove, she also wasn’t above stealing Vince’s old sweatshirts. He always said she looked better in them anyways. 

Even when Vince was back in town, she slept over enough for it to make sense for her to have a space of her own; it just wasn’t practical for her to have to drive fifteen minutes to her apartment and back again just to grab a shirt if she wanted to spend the night after a movie date ran long. They hadn’t broached the conversation of moving in together yet, though. It was something that had crossed Aly’s mind, and if she knew Vince as well as she thought she did, he had thought about it too. But she wasn’t in a hurry to break her lease and he hadn’t said anything about it, so she had decided to let sleeping dogs lie. 

She tucked her bag into the corner of his closet, padding into the bathroom and closing the door. She cursed herself as she pulled down her shorts, realizing that her period had started and, conveniently, her purse was out in the living room. Biting her lip, Aly decided to rummage around in the vanity, praying to God that she’d left something from the last time. It wasn’t like she thought Vince would be weird about it if she asked him to bring her something from her purse; he never had been before, even when she had bled through a pair of his sweats one night staying over. “Not a big deal,” he had said, shrugging and tossing them in the washing machine. “I needed to do laundry anyway.” But she’d rather not ask if she didn’t have to. She crossed her fingers as she pulled out the last drawer, her head turning to the side in confusion as she saw an unopened box of tampons. Her eyes softened in realization. He had bought them without her ever having to ask. 

January 

It was bye week for the Blues, which meant everyone who hadn’t been picked for the All Star Team suddenly had an extra week in the middle of the season and nothing to do to fill it. Or, rather, had a week in the middle of the season and had to find something to do to fill it. In Vince and Aly’s case, that something turned out to be a trip to the Bahamas with some of his teammates and their wives. It had been a no-brainer for him to invite Aly; everyone else was bringing their partners and Vince knew she had a few vacation days saved up from work. They had been planning it for months, Aly having requested the time off as soon as she was able, and had blissfully traded in the chilly winters of Missouri for a balmy week on the shores of Nassau.

Vince had wanted to go to Iceland originally, half to do with the hiking and half to do with the ponies he saw in a National Geographic article as a kid, but one Google search from Sammy led them to the unfortunate realization that being so far north, there were only about six hours of daylight each day and the temperature topped out in the mid 30s. Vince looked a little deflated when he read the forecast. “Don’t worry,” Aly had said, squeezing his arm in reassurance. “We can go in June, after school lets out and before you head home for the summer. I’ve heard amazing things about their hot springs.” Sammy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Aly hit his shoulder. 

But the Bahamas were proving to be one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. “Better than home?” he asked as they lay stretched out on the sand while they watched the sun dip below the horizon. 

She scrunched her nose at him. “Unfair comparison. St. Louis is hovering around freezing and perpetually covered in a layer of slush this time of year. And, to be fair, it’s an endearing layer of slush and I love it. But right now I think I’d rather be where it’s 75º and sunny and I can lay outside looking hot as hell in a bikini without worrying about freezing my tits off.” 

Vince choked on his rum punch. “Worried about that, are you?” 

Aly shrugged. “I’d rather deal with a sunburn. Which, speaking of,” she glanced over at Vince, “you’re looking a little red. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got as much aloe vera as I could pack in a single quart bag. Would have tried to sneak in a whole bottle, but didn’t want the feds after me.” 

Vince laughed, a whole body laugh that all but consumed him for a few moments, before pulling Aly in to rest against his chest. “I’m really happy you came, Aly. You know that, right?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? All-expenses paid trip to the Carribean with you and our friends, getting to hang out on the beach all day and drink cocktails without having to worry about driving home after?” 

Vince gasped in mock offense, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her waist coming to clench at his heart. “You’re killing me here, Aly! You mean to tell me this whole time you’ve only been using me for my money? I expected more from you.” 

“Not just your money, Vin,” she giggled, settling into his touch. “I tried to pay for my share of the expenses, you wouldn’t have it. But seriously, I do really love it here. It’s gorgeous, and so peaceful, and there’s really not anything I think we could do to make it better. I love you, Vince Dunn.” 

“I love you too, Aly Kalinski.” 

April 

“One sec, I’ve got to go grab something,” Vince said, smiling at Aly as he pushed his chair back from the table. It was the day after he had come home from a two week road trip, and he had invited her over for dinner, told her to dress nice, and made what actually turned out to be a very respectable dinner of ravioli and roasted vegetables. 

She nodded as her heart started to pound faster and faster, coming to a peak when she thought her chest was going to burst as Vince returned from the bedroom, turning a blue velvet box over in his hands. “I know it might seem unexpected, but I saw this the other day while I was downtown with Sammy and I don’t know, just somehow knew you were meant to have it. Knew it was meant to be yours. Something I hope you’ll see as a sign of how much I love and care about you and how even though we might not always physically be together, you’re the person I trust most in this life.” 

He slid the box across the table to Aly, who opened it with shaking hands. Inside was a silver necklace with a pendant of an olive tree on it. It was absolutely gorgeous — and Vince was right, very her — but it was not what she had been expecting.

Aly snorted, burying her face into her hands. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to call my mom.” 

Vince was confused. “Why?” 

Aly rolled her eyes. “I told her I was coming over here for dinner and you told me to dress nice. She thought you were going to propose.” 

“Propose?” Vince asked, dumbfounded. “Why would I propose?” 

She tried to wave him off, but Vince could see the shimmer of hurt behind her eyes. “I mean, we’ve been together for almost two years. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”

“Together?” He looked over at her. “For two years?” 

“Yeah?” she said slowly, thinking he had forgotten their anniversary. “Come June, two years.” 

Vince swallowed hard as it began to dawn on him, looking down at his hands. “Together...She thinks we’ve been together for,” he looked up at the ceiling, “twenty-one months.” 

“You keep repeating that word, babe. Together. What’s confusing about it?” Aly said, giving him a weird look.  

God, how was he supposed to tell her? “I didn’t know we were together. Are together? Let alone that your mom was expecting a proposal.” 

Aly’s blood ran cold. “Let me get this straight,” she said, pausing. “You didn’t know we’re together? What did you think we’ve been doing for almost two years?” 

“Being really good friends?” 

She shook her head. “Why did you tell me to dress up when I came over, then? Why did you make dinner?”

He fixed his eyes on a chip in the coffee table. “I knew you’d been having a rough week and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“What about the vacation?” She questioned.

He shrugged helplessly. “Everyone else was going in couples, and you’re my best friend down here regardless.” 

“Me coming to all the games? Sitting up in the box?” 

“You’ve become friends with all the WAGs, and I love having you there to support me,” he tried. 

“The sex?” Aly asked incredulously. 

Vince winced. Okay, that  one was a little harder to explain away. “I just always thought that we were both single, both hot, both too busy to get into relationships. Each other’s best options.” 

God, Aly felt like a fucking fool. She felt like she’d been played, because in a weird, sort of twisted way, she had. “You said you thought it was because we’re both too busy to be in relationships now. But Vince, I know you have no think energy out your ears, but I need you to concentrate for a minute. Think about most couples you know. They get together a few times a week if they don’t live together. We do that.” He nodded. 

“They have a drawer or a part of a closet at each other’s places, they look after each other’s plants and dogs when they’re out of town. We do that. They become friends with each other’s friends, they visit each other’s families, they take weekend trips together and fly to the Bahamas with friends when they have a week off. We did that.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “They dance around in the kitchen together and make love and go to the zoo at least once a month because I love seeing the otters. They comfort each other when they’re at their worst, encourage each other at their best. You said you didn’t have time for a relationship, but you didn’t realize that that’s what we’ve been doing, Vince.” 

Now it was Vince’s turn to be struck speechless. Aly wasn’t meeting his eyes. And honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He turned to look at her, but she had stood up abruptly from the couch, pacing nervously as she slowly made her way to the door. “I, uh, I think I should go,” she said, looking down at her hands. 

Vince stood up, taking a half step towards her before deciding that it was best to give her space. “No, Aly, you don’t have to go. We can talk. I think —”

“No, I think. I think you don’t feel the same way, and I’ve been misreading things for two years. And that’s fine, I can’t force you to fabricate feelings that aren’t there, so um. I’ll go,” Aly said, shaking her head stiffly. She opened the door and shut it, and Vince was suddenly stuck in the loudest silence he’d ever heard. It was like he couldn’t move for a minute, as if all of his muscles were paralyzed, and then he came back to reality. Aly had only been gone for maybe a minute at most, but it felt like an hour. 

Vince bolted out of the door, not even bothering to lock it, running straight past the elevator. Stairs would be quicker. He caught her just as she was exiting the front door, one of her hands coming up to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “Aly!” Vince called. She hesitated for a moment but kept walking. Vince ran across the lobby, not even caring about his complete lack of shoes. “Aly! Wait up, please.” 

She turned around, eyes watering, and sighed, walking over towards one of the chairs with a defeated look on her face. She didn’t even sit down, just perched on the arm like she wasn’t quite comfortable with actually settling in, like she needed to be able to up and leave at any given moment. “Please, Vince. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I’m not mad at you for not feeling the same way, it wouldn’t be fair of me and people can’t control their feelings, but I feel like a fucking idiot right now. Like I spent so long misreading all sorts of signs and signals and words —”

“What if you didn’t?” Vince asked breathlessly. 

Aly looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“What if you didn’t misread anything, Aly? What if you didn’t have to be mad at me for not feeling the same way, because I do?”

Aly sunk into the chair, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had left his apartment. “Then why...Why did you not say anything? How did you not know we were in a relationship?”

Vince ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Because I thought that’s all you were going to give me. And if that was it, that was enough for me,” he smiled sadly. “I thought everything, the sex and the wedding and the Bahamas, was just me being a good friend and you needing a stress relief and someone who’d always be in your corner. I never knew this was supposed to be a relationship. I didn’t think you wanted anything serious. And I had resigned myself to that, come to terms with only getting stolen kisses on late nights and early-morning coffee runs before you had to head to school. If I only got you halfway, I was okay with it, because I love you and that was better than nothing.” 

“You what?” Aly’s breath caught in her throat. 

“I love you,” Vince said. It was the easiest thing he had ever admitted. Because it was true. 

He had told her he loved her before, but as Aly searched his face, she could tell that he meant it in a different way. In the way she always wanted him to. “You love me?” she asked, voice cracking. 

Vince nodded. “I do. I’m in love with you. And you don’t know how good that feels to admit.”

Aly gave an airy laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear before Vince had a chance to get it for her. “I think I might.”

“I’ve just got one question, though,” Vince asked. 

“Which is?” 

He cracked a smile. “You’re not going to make us change our anniversary date, are you? It would be pretty weird to explain to everyone and I really don’t want Aunt Ruth to find out and show up at my door to chase me around with a chainsaw.”

Aly giggled, leaning over and placing an exhilarated kiss against his lips. “No.”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Twenty- Five

“Listen,” Rock said, handing out another round of drinks as he watched Clay out the window, “Y/N is a good boss. As long as Clay is looked after and we don’t spend too much on beer and pay per view boxing matches, she doesn’t really ride us too hard.”  He sighed and popped his neck. “Clay made enemies. A lot of them… And he doesn’t remember any of it.”

“So is that why-” Bucky started, and Rock snorted. 

“Why did she tell him she was taking him to a new posting? Yeah. It makes him wary of strangers but doesn’t freak him out.”

He nodded and looked back towards the man outside. And his chest hurt. “Clay thinks she’s 8 years old.”

“Sometimes,” Rock said. “Sometimes he knows she’s a grown up. Sometimes he thinks she’s just his company contact.”

“How’d his shit get so scrambled?” Sam asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“At least one traumatic brain injury. Maybe two… Y/N made us our plans. All the stuff we can use to help keep him out of the woods but… Sometimes, I wonder how much longer she can keep him out here. I mean, you guys found us. What’s to stop someone else from doing it?”

Bucky exhaled slowly and shook his head. He’d like to say he’d help you but. In the other room he could hear Jack furiously texting. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he’d be lucky if you’d even look at him when he got back.

__________

You brace yourself and take aim. You’d hope some range time would take your mind off of how furious you were. But it hadn’t.

You still wanted to grab Bucky and shake him until his teeth rattled. To yell at him and ask if he realized how many people were tracking him. If he’d considered the risk that this little escapade had posed to Clay. But you already knew the answer. 

Of course he didn’t.

He wanted to help so badly. To make sure that you weren’t in over your head. That he plunged headlong into a piss poor plan. Maybe he had some rabbit brained idea that HE was going to be able to fix Clay. But there was nothing to be done. His brain was slowly dissolving. He was sinking faster and faster into the past. And it was getting harder and harder to help him find his way out. 

It was the slowest goodbye. Instead of losing your brother once, you were going to say goodbye to him for years. You were keeping him from people who loved him. Trying to protect everyone. But fuck if you wouldn’t give anything to be able to take care of all those old enemies and bring him home. Put him in a nursing home where you could visit more. Where his mom could come and fuss over him. And Joe could come and play cards. 

You squeeze the trigger repeatedly, hoping the rapport from the gun will chase the thoughts out of your head. To get rid of the stinging behind your eyes. But it doesn’t. Cold fire burns behind your rib cage and down into your belly. Your skin felt like it was vibrating. And all you wanted to do was scream. 

Like every scream you ever swallowed was clawing its way out of your throat . Like every time you bit your tongue and looked down. Afraid that if you started screaming you’d never stop had come back to haunt you. All the words you’d never said because you were afraid to manipulate someone. Afraid that you’d hurt them. It felt like they were bounding around in your skull threatening to burst it in two. 

And when cold metal and warm flesh wrap around you, pinning your arms to your sides and pulling you backwards against a solid chest… It’s only then that you realize you really were screaming. 

__________

Bucky looked at the blue glow cast over your skin and heard the decades of pain burst out of your mouth and it was enough to almost knock him off his feet. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, lips against your ear, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

And he isn’t sure if it’s the pressure or the fact that it’s him, but when you start to go lip, your now unloaded pistol clattering to the floor, he kneels behind you, keeping you against his chest. 

“Why’d you do it, Bucky?” you ask softly. 

And you can feel the jolt of alertness behind you. “I pay them,” you say bitterly, “Did you think they wouldn’t call me?”

Bucky exhaled slowly. “I found your journals- on accident,” he added quickly. “I bumped the button with my knee. And then I- I- I guess I wanted to know.”

“So- you put Clay at risk because you were curious?”

He winced, “If it helps… We did some recon on the island. Beefed up your security measures a little.”

“It doesn’t,” you sigh, “But thanks anyway.”

“Y/N-”

“Stop!” you bark, pushing away and getting to your feet quickly. “You lied to me. Not Once. But several times. You literally went out of your way to avoid me so you could keep lying to me because you KNEW you were in the wrong.”

You push hair out of your face and look down at him. “How fucking dare you?” you ask. “What gave you the right? What made you think that it was okay to lie to me? To ignore the fact that I DIDN’T WANT YOUR HELP! Do you think I like knowing that I’m hurting everyone that loves him? Do you think it’s fun to have my mother live her life in perpetual fucking mourning? Do you think I don’t know that Clay would do better with that group of crusty old fucks to sneak him beer and peanut butter cups?” You break off, panting and wipe away frustrated tears. “And now I have to contend with SHIELD too? How is any of that fair?”

“It’s not- I just-” Bucky stopped when you glared at him and shut his mouth with a snap. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. 

“So am I,” you say softly, turning on your heel and walking away. Before you say anything else you might regret.

Bucky watched you go and exhaled slowly. He wished that you would have just hit him. It would have felt better. Because for the first time, he understood why you were so careful with the words you said and the tone you used. He felt every scrap of what you felt. 

And he felt like he wanted to scream.

[tsuisou-no-despair]

Higurashi TEN (Role Swap AU) - 34 Random Facts

Well, I'm slightly stuck with the question arcs, so instead I'm just going to write up and throw out a whole bundle of random facts about the world, its characters, and things that have or could happen. Hopefully this will lead to something clicking into place for me, and hopefully you'll like it, too.

Kei, Reina, and Mion still use a bat, nata, and taser, respectively, as their main weapons, though Mion's been forbidden from using the taser by Oryou. Hanyuu uses the ritual hoe and swords in about equal measure. Miyoko uses whatever's on hand to frightening effect.

Shion thrives at St. Lucia; however, she is pulled out of the school by her family after Oryou decides that Mion's twin would be better utilized if she was right on hand...

Miyoko does the Joseph Joestar "your next line is..." thing, which almost always works like a charm. (It doesn't work on Satoko or Bernkastel, but the former plays along when she's not in the black outfit)

Hanyuu's horns aren't initially broken, but by the end of the series, they have their signature crack.

Tomitake is a much more common sight in Hinamizawa than he was in the original universe, being a resident of Okinomiya who frequently visits. He's also quite well-liked, mostly because he's there to fix just about anything that breaks.

Rumiko was the original user of Rena's signature nata, as well as the person who first converted the van in the dump into a hiding place.

Satoko finds the contents of the Saiguiden fascinating but ultimately disappointing; she expected something more directly tied to Hinamizawa Syndrome's origins.

Irie almost always manages to get clear of Hinamizawa before Emergency Procedure #3105 is executed; however, he's usually dead in under 24 hours due to his escape catching Tokyo's attention.

Both Ooishi and Akasaka are hated by the Sonozaki family but the former much more so, to the point where Ooishi schedules his visits to Okinomiya when the Sonozakis will be looking elsewhere, such as on festival nights.

Rina targets Kei's dad in the loops where she doesn't die. Kei's mom does not take it well - to the point where she goes L5, in some cases.

Mion's "feelings" for Satoshi are primarily a result of Satoshi being just that nice and caring and good-hearted. It helps that she's enamored with a saintly image of him that's only grown more pure since his absence.

When Miyoko bothers to start telling people about how she's lost in time loops, their reactions are mostly in the vein of "oh, that explains so much".

Bernkastel can be heard by people who are deep in the throes of Hinamizawa Syndrome; naturally, she uses this to fuck with people for kicks.

Okonogi takes the role of the clinic's head after Satoko dies/disappears. He's regarded exclusively with suspicion - if he wasn't only filling the role until the GHD triggers, he'd probably get run out of town within a month.

Rumiko regularly made Miyoko curry after learning that Teppei and Tamae were denying her food; this led to Rumiko taking her curry very seriously because it represented the only "acceptable" way for her to help Miyoko.

Officially, Tatsuyoshi Sonozaki and his wife (Naeko) are Mion and Shion's parents. In reality, Akane is their mother, and whether or not Tatsuyoshi is the father is strictly a matter between him and Akane.

All of the locations from the original universe are present and more or less unchanged, along with a few new "sets" such as Akasaka's apartment.

Satoko has an alternate version of her "Tokyo" outfit that includes a mask that resembles an inverted Eye of Providence. She wears this when acting in Hinamizawa after her death, claiming that she needs to hide her identity due to being known in the village. (Okonogi thinks that doesn't matter in the slightest and that Satoko is trying too hard to be "cool", and he isn't wrong... except that it's managed to keep Miyoko from realizing who it is throughout the loops)

Beyond mahjong, Akasaka, Satoshi, Irie and Tomitake were fast friends. Their name for the quartet is the "Soul Brothers" - thankfully, it's a more serious (and infinitely less horny-focused) group than in arcs like (ugh) Batsukowashi-hen. (Kei still becomes an honorary Soul Brother in some arcs, though)

While she's reasonably familiar with a gun and a bow, Shion's real weapon is her contacts: her stay at St. Lucia (and Rika-in-Gou levels of popularity while there) means she has a slew of St. Lucia-ites (with powerful fathers) who would bend over backward for her.

Akane and Satoko are the two most skilled individual fighters in Higurashi TEN - who wins in a fight between the two is generally decided by who screws up first, but this is usually Akane getting blindsided by a trap unless she's warned. (They fight in more fragments than you'd expect - Akane Kasai is the most dangerous person in Hinamizawa and Satoko knows it.)

Miyoko starts her loops at the same point every time - the morning after the festival in 1982. This is mostly to dodge the abuse from Tamae - the fact that people assume her changed personality is because she's escaped an abusive home is icing on the cake.

The official reason for the Clinic "studying" Hanyuu was that they were researching the effects of her horns' growth pressing on her brain and monitoring the brain tumor-like symptoms (hearing voices, delusions of being Oyashiro-sama reborn, etc.) that it caused; this was all a fabrication hiding the research done on Hanyuu as Queen Carrier. Satoshi was disgusted by this facade and eventually told the Furudes that Hanyuu's brain was fine, leading to them pulling Hanyuu out (and Satoko murdering them as a result).

Irie occasionally mediates the Games Club's punishment games, sometimes getting dragged into it himself. He's a stalwart protector defender of the young club members' honor, making whatever sacrifices he has to in order to make sure that they're not forced into perverted situations or outfits.

Rumiko may or may not have had feelings for Mion, which Mion subconsciously returned; Mion's quietly put two and two together in the months following her disappearance, and it's had a palpable effect on her relationship with Reina.

Ooishi lives in Kakiuchi City and is a part of its police department, and he's not the only former Hinamizawa resident on its force - there's a bright young detective named Natsumi Kimiyoshi who I've heard interesting stories about, though I don't know much about her...

While he's still capable of being the "Magician of Words", Kei's charisma is heavily tempered by the restrained, somewhat cold wall he's put up around his emotions for "everyone's own good".

After all that looping, Miyoko's trauma response to Teppei moving back in and forcing himself to be her caretaker is anger moreso than shutting down. More than a few loops have ended with Teppei killing her after she was too insolent (or too creepy) for him to put up with.

Yukie was a reporter who was extremely critical of the anti-dam protests, especially after the kidnapping occurred. At least some of the antipathy towards Akasaka is due to being Yukie's husband.

When the seeds of distrust aren't sown, Reina's empathy is one of her most powerful tools, making her able to stand up to just about anyone in Hinamizawa and reach out a hand to them. (Sometimes this leads to getting a baseball bat to the head, but hey, she tried.)

Hanyuu can hear Bernkastel at lower levels of Hinamizawa Syndrome than anyone else in the village, and seems to be cognizant of her presence even when she's at L1/L2. The exact details of Hanyuu and Bern's rapport are known only to them.

Miyoko and Hanyuu are closer to each other than they are to anyone else, but there's still a big ugly wall between them due to Hanyuu's quasi-divinity butting up against Miyoko's hatred of any and all gods. Tearing that wall down is an important part of Miyoko's character development.

Irie had (has?) Satoshi's blessing to try and win Satoko's heart; according to Satoshi, Satoko's not entirely against the idea of a relationship. Satoshi also made sure that Irie didn't cross any lines when going after her; after Satoshi disappeared, Irie ceased his attempts until Satoko herself encouraged him.

Everyone is wearing different outfits - the new ones are more or less the same pieces of clothing as the original "position" but with the color palette and general feel of the character filling the slot. For example, Reina's casual outfit starts as Keiichi's - a vest, undershirt, and shorts (and no hat) - but then is adjusted to fit Rena's style and is given a white, light blue, and purple palette. My attempts at mocking up Reina and Mion's designs are below.

[gentlemen-of-lies]

Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 3

Making friends with a bald man on a bicycle

(Next chapter) (Chapter 2)

————

Curt had heard about Bletchley Park, not much to spark any sort of special interest, but he knew it held a significant role in the war, breaking German codes, and even developing brand new technology. So he was quite excited to see it in action.

Unfortunately, his expectations were dashed almost as soon as they arrived. According to Owen, while Bletchley was still part of the British Intelligence, it stopped its code breaking in 1946, after the war had ended. And was really only used now for training certain workers, such as teachers, or air traffic controllers. Andrew Hayes was one of the trainers, not a very a cool role in Curt’s opinion. Was he even part of MI6? Apparently he had used to be. Not a Bletchley worker, although his girlfriend had been, but a spy during the war, his German coming in handy. Now his German only came in handy if he so happened to train a German to be a teacher, which he never did. And Curt was now realising why Hayes was a suspect in the first place. MI6 had essentially dropped him as soon as the war had ended, keeping him on only while it was convenient for them.

They didn’t even enter the building, Owen said there was no need for Hayes to accidentally spot them, as it may blow their case. He said it was better to wait until they saw him leave and then keep an eye on him. Their viewing spot was on another bench, round the corner from the building’s main exit and entrance, a good area to observe the entire front driveway, but still keeping out of sight from those leaving and entering. Curt shuffled around in his seat.

“Stop fidgeting,” reprimanded Owen. Curt glared at him.

“I can’t help it, those clothes you gave me are too tight.” Curt had opened up the duffel back once he’d returned to his hostel last night, and had found a white collared shirt, and a brown jacket, much neater and cleaner than his own clothes.

“They look fine.”

“Doesn’t matter how they look, they feel like plastic.”

“When you’re undercover, it does matter how it looks, and your comfort means nothing. Get a hold of yourself, Mega. You’re the one who has to follow Hayes. If he catches me, he’ll know what’s happening immediately.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To make sure you’re following the right person.” Curt raised an eyebrow, annoyed at Owen’s clear conviction that Curt was useless as a spy. Well, he’d sure show Owen. He was determined to solve this case himself, and rub it in both Owen and Cynthia’s faces.

While they waited, Curt observed his immediate surroundings, seeing the green spaces and the gated entrances. He wasn’t one to ponder the past, or be sentimental in any way, but he couldn’t help but think about all that was achieved here during the war, and seeing how soon it had come crashing down. It went from breaking top secret codes, to teaching middle aged men how to land a plane. From the best mathematicians in the world, to people who simply needed a pay check. It certainly made him think about the unpredictability of his own job, how soon things change, how different one day is from the other. It wasn’t a thought he was particularly keen on entertaining, so he brushed it aside.

Besides, he had spotted a suspect. Not Hayes, but Lawson. Lawson was exiting the building from a different direction, out of sight from Owen. Curt followed the man with his eyes. What he really wanted to do was follow him properly, but Owen would never let him. So he tried to keep him in sight as long as possible, maybe work out where he was heading. It was impossible of course; he could have been heading anywhere. All he managed to mentally note down was that Lawson was cycling down a road joining from the other side of Bletchley.

“There’s Hayes,” alerted Owen. Curt pulled his eyes away from where Lawson had rounded a corner, and fixated them on their new target: Andrew Hayes. He was a rather short man, bespectacled, slightly balding. Didn’t look like much of a threat, if Curt was being honest, but then... those who didn’t look like a threat were usually the opposite. Or at least, they were in his experience.

Hayes placed a black briefcase into the front basket on his bicycle, and began to ride away. Owen nudged Curt to stand up.

“Quick, follow him. But don’t be too obvious.” Curt gave him a disbelieving look, about to say something, but Owen pointed firmly at the receding figure, and Curt had no choice but to jog to catch up with the man, slowing down as soon as he could in case he was spotted. How was he supposed to follow a man on a bike without running? Or at least speed walking, both of which would arouse suspicion. But luckily for him, Hayes seemed to be taking it easy, just a nice afternoon bike ride on the rare days of sunshine, so it wasn’t long before Curt could comfortably walk behind him, at a safe distant, and not lose sight of the man.

Curt was expecting Hayes to go straight home, so he wasn’t sure what his plan of action would be afterwards. He couldn’t exactly spy on him in his own home. Maybe with a bit more experience he could, but at the moment, he didn’t want to risk screwing anything up.

But thankfully, the man stopped at a café, parking his bicycle outside and as Curt watched, he went to the counter to order something, and sat down at one of the neighbouring tables. Even better, the café was practically full. Curt had a plan of action.

He waited a few minutes before entering the café himself, ordered a coffee from the girl behind the counter and went over to Hayes.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, pointing to the chair opposite from where Hayes was sitting. Hayes looked a little bewildered at the imposition, but he gestured at the chair, signalling that it was free. Curt sat down.

“You’re an American?” Hayes asked.

“Yeah. Just arrived here a few days ago.”

“How are you liking it?”

“Weather’s not great, but the people are swell.” Actually the people either ignored him or “took the piss out of him”, a phrase he’d picked up from Bill the receptionist. But he certainly didn’t want to insult the country of the guy he was supposed to making friends with.

“That’s good to hear.” The waiter came over with Hayes’s coffee, along with a jam tart he’d also ordered. Hayes thanked the waiter, and turned back to Curt. “So how come you’re here anyway?” Curt couldn’t believe his luck: Hayes was a talker. Usually he had to work to get any information out of someone, especially a stranger.

“Visiting family. My mom’s side is British.” Wasn’t true of course. His mom’s side had never even left the state, let alone the country. “This is the first time I’ve been though, my job got me travelling...” Curt hoped Hayes would take the bait.

“What’s your job?” Bingo.

“Before the war I worked as a travel writer for a newspaper. I’m finally able to get back to it.”

“You’re lucky you got your job back. I lost mine, work as a teacher now.”

“What was your job before?”

“Oh, just a government position. Nothing too important.” Curt’s coffee finally arrived, and he took a sip of it before continuing. He had to keep Hayes talking, long enough for them to strike up a proper rapport.

“How come you lost it then?” Hayes didn’t respond right away. He took a bite out of his tart.

“Not sure, if I’m honest. The war turned everything on its head.”

“Did you fight in it?”

“No, I still kept my position. Helped the effort of course, but I wasn’t a soldier. What about you?”

“Sure, I fought in it.” Curt hadn’t stepped foot on the battlefield, but Hayes didn’t need to know that. Frankly, it was a good opportunity to make himself look cool. An opportunity he had no intention of letting go. “Of course, our soldiers did a lot of the clean up, but I fought in a few battles.”

“Well, that’s awfully brave of you.”

“Why thank you, sir.” Curt noticed his American accent becoming... extra American. It was a tip he’d soon picked up for himself. The more American you sounded, the more people were intrigued. Especially the ladies.

Curt was about to continue, but all of a sudden, he spotted someone outside. By some pure trick of fate, Lawson was wandering down the street, wheeling his bike beside him. The bike seemed to have a puncture, an observation confirmed by Lawson heading into a bike shop that stood just across from the café. This was Curt’s chance.

He thought of Owen. Owen would be pissed. But what did he care? He didn’t even like Owen. And besides, he was starting to get suspicious- not just of Lawson- but from Owen himself. Why was Owen so adamant that Lawson wasn’t a suspect? What sort of spy ruled out anyone just because of a gut feeling? Curt had a duty to follow Lawson. Owen couldn’t get pissed at him for doing his duty.

“I’m going to have to say good day to you, sir,” Curt said to Hayes, tipping an imaginary hat for added effect. “’Fraid I must get going, gotta deadline to meet. But it was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too.”

“You here often? I wouldn’t mind catching up now and again before I head back to the States.” Curt thought he might as well do something he was ordered to do. No point in losing a connection to one of the suspects.

“Um, yes, I come here after work every day.”

“Well then, I hope to see you again.”

“And you. You can tell me all about America. Fascinating place, I’ve heard.”

“It sure is, and I’d be happy to talk to you about it.” He tried to wrap the conversation up as soon as he could, not wanting to lose sight of Lawson. He didn’t know how long he’d be in that shop for. Should he enter the shop? Or simply hang back, follow him when he had exited onto the street?

“Are you alright?” Asked Hayes, suddenly. Shit. Curt’s mind had wandered off and he’d forgotten to continue speaking.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll be going then.” Hayes nodded in acknowledgement, probably getting sick of him by now, which wasn’t what he had intended. Curt turned around, handed a five pound note to the lady at the counter, tipped the waiter, and left the shop. The little bell by the door tinkling as he did so.

He didn’t want Hayes to spot him hanging around, so he ducked into the nearest alleyway, still on the same side of the street as the café, waiting for Lawson to come out. He had to wait some time, checking his watch every so often, tapping his feet impatiently. When Lawson did make an appearance, what was he going to do about it? Strike up a conversation? Follow him home. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through so well.

But he didn’t have time for a self-evaluation, as at that moment, the door of the bike shop opened and Lawson stepped out onto the pavement. This was it.

There was no opportunity to bump into him, start up a friendly interaction. Curt had no choice but to simply stray behind him, his head bent low, walking on the opposite side of the street. Lawson didn’t have his bike with him, so it was a little harder to stay out of sight. He wanted to at least find out where Lawson lived. Even if he didn’t yet make any sort of move, he could always return at a later date with a proper plan in mind, and perhaps even convince Owen to let him trail the guy.

The walk wasn’t too long. Lawson lived down a road lined with flats, his flat being in one of the first buildings coming into the street. Curt couldn’t do much else except note down the street name and the building number, but after a few minutes, when Lawson was safely inside, Curt walked up the front steps, hoping to find one of those signs, markers, whatever they were called, that had the surnames and flat number of each resident.

Indeed, the building did have said sign. But weirdly- suspiciously- Lawson wasn’t listed. Only by process of elimination could Curt work out that Lawson lived in flat 2B. It was the only flat not listed. Good piece of information, Mega. You’re doing well.

He could easily trail Hayes and Lawson without Owen finding out about the latter.

Curt smiled to himself. He’d solve this case, no doubt about it.

[funkymbtifiction]

What’s been your experience of knowing a person of each Enneagram type?

It’s nothing if not interesting. 😉

1s: can be principled, dutiful, and reliable. Their pet peeve is for people to be rude, irresponsible, inconsiderate, or late. I’ve known an sp 1 and a soc 1. The sp 1 does indeed resemble a 6 due to content fretting, low self esteem, terror of getting it wrong, and general anxiety, but shows 1 behaviors of obsessive cleaning, a desperate need to control everything, and rigidity in setting up “house rules.” In so doing, she has denied herself anything that is not “useful,” which I find terribly sad. She has no room for pleasure in her life. The soc 1 is far more inclined to be assertive, to correct others, to point out what they are doing wrong, and to show her anger. Much less self doubt.

2s: ah, 2s. I’ve known a few marginally and one “sort of” well, since I spent ten days with her on a visit to another state. She truly reminded me of Molly Weasley in her bustling about, her attending to everyone’s numerous needs (and ability to keep us all in line), her pride in doing things for everyone, and her sensitivities. At one point, her daughter told her, “MOM, STOP MOLLY WEASLEY-ING CHARITY! SHE’S FINE. SHE DOESN’T NEED WATER. THANKS.” Ha, ha. I liked her a great deal, but it amused me how defensively she drove – under stress, I saw her 8 come out, though I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. We all snapped to attention whenever that happened.

3s: I admire their work ethic but… the one I know offline has to find some way to impress people, no matter what. If that is in showing you his muscles and making sure you know how far he biked today, so be it. It used to be because he was proud of his professional life. Since retirement, I have seen him struggle enormously with having a sense of purpose and trying to find one that doesn’t hinge on his non-existent work. That is what worries me about 3s – getting old, and no longer having society regard them as “useful and essential” is HELL on them. Please, make sure, if you are a 3, to do the internal work on figuring out who you are, and recognizing your own worth as separate from what you do, before you reach that age.

4s: I have known a lot of 4s, some healthy and some not. I have two delightful healthy ones in my life right now – an sp/sx 4 and an soc/sp 4, and they are indeed different. The sp 4 is more internal and less aware of or inclined to change herself for others; the soc 4 looks outward, and is highly attentive to other people. Sp 4 can take on others’ pain and burdens in a sense and feel overwhelmed by it – and with both of these beautiful girls, I’ve seen it turn them toward compassion. But they do tend to run high on “drama.” It’s not a song, it’s an opera. I knew an unhealthy 4 once who was hell-bound to remain miserable and a victim wallowing in her pain and thwarted (almost sadistically gleefully) anyone’s attempts to help her rise above her bad situation. She wanted to stay there. And she drove everyone who knew her insane. Eventually, she lost all her friends due to her being the wet mop all the time -- which of course, fed into her sadistic happiness at being miserable, abandoned, and unloved.

5s: can be callous at times, just because they are so lacking in emotional self-awareness and so fixated on logical solutions, but they will give it to you straight if you ask for it. They tend toward severe social awkwardness—think Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield Ball. Most inclined to disappear five minutes after you meet them and remain unseen until you leave. I knew a five once, the father of a friend, who would call out hello to me as he walked right past me, straight down into the basement, where he hid for hours among his books. Given he had a house full of giggling, silly girls, I don’t blame him. He was truly Mr. Bennet.

6s: can be either the warmest, funniest, most loyal people you will ever meet – or the biggest pains in the butt, and I say that as a 6. I know one other sp 6 and he reminds me of myself, just older and male – we both are hilarious, we both tease people to establish a rapport with them, we both crave feedback and support from trusted others, and we both swing between concern and optimism. But unhealthy, paranoid 6s are out in force right now freaking everyone out about the COVID-19 and the world doesn’t need that. It needs HOPE. So for heaven’s sake, put down the freak-outs, the paranoid accusations, the wild conspiracy theories, and accept that your worst-case scenario projections are just that -- the product of your own scared mind. It may or may not happen, and trust me, 6s, I know damn well that your worst fears usually don’t happen anywhere except in your head.

7s: are enormous fun to go on vacation with, but can be flakes. Lovable ones, but still flakes. They promise more than they can deliver and then avoid you rather than face up to the music when they realize they don’t want to do what they promised. They are hilarious, witty, optimistic, and their enthusiasm is infectious, but sometimes they fail to realize that not everyone wants to be endlessly teased, mocked, or come home to a mountain of stuff followed by a maxed-out credit card bill. Life is not always a joke, sometimes it is serious. And they are inclined not to finish a serious conversation if it in any way makes them uncomfortable or feel like they’re about to confront part of themselves.

8s: I have only known one and… there are things I like about her. Her courage. Her ballsy attitude. This woman made a place for herself in a man’s world, in a time when that was not done. She bulldozed her way to the top. Unfortunately, she never shut off the bulldozer. She has burned bridges behind her, made countless enemies, and gets into foolish personal and legal fights because she refuses to back down from anyone, and will turn anything into an argument. She lost my mother as a friend, because she thought bullying her was a good idea. My mother set up polite boundaries and the 8 trampled them, something my mother does not forgive. Something 8s need to remember – what is fun for you (you consider fighting “bonding”) is not always fun for someone else who is not an 8. Being an 8 is an asset, but only if you learn to tell the difference between a threat and a non-threat.

9s: are some of the most precious people on earth, but also the must frustrating for me, because I see them being mercilessly treated by the rest of the world, which tends to walk all over them. I wind up counseling 9 friends who are frustrated at ‘not being heard’ but cannot find it within themselves to assert themselves in any way, or think they deserve to be heard, or know how to recognize what is NOT okay. Being a 9, a peacemaker, someone able to understand everyone’s point of view, is a valuable gift, but you cannot use it for good if you are incapable of believing you deserve good things, too.

Each Enneagram type has a health level. You can find them at the Enneagram Institute. Figure out which level is ‘you’ and start working toward the next one up, through conscious choices. You don’t have to stay this way. Your life is yours to command.1s, you don’t have to be perfect. 2s, you don’t have to please others. 3s, you don’t have to win every time. 4s, you don’t have to stay in a place of self-loathing. 5s, you don’t have to fear trying things. 6s, you don’t have to be afraid all the time. 7s, you don’t have to run away from everything. 8s, you don’t have to turn every discussion into a fight. 9s, you don’t have to give everyone whatever they want. It’s time to take back your life.

- ENFP Mod

PS: Most of these examples come from my extended family, none of whom follow this blog, so if you’re one of my friends (unless you are the 4) -- I’m not talking about you. ;)