#but alas here is proof i’ve done something this week

[aqpippin]

wip wednesday —

i drive down different roads (but they all lead back to you) (chapter 2)

Gigi’s mind grinds to a halt. She rewinds her memories back, to what she heard today, to her name leaving Jackie’s mouth desperately. She rewinds further back, to her lookalike, the smile playing on her lips when she said Gigi should talk to Jackie. Then even further - to Jackie kicking her hookup out to take care of a sick Gigi, to her leaving someone midway through just to help her through a question. She thinks about the one girl who grinned at her and claimed she knew why Jackie was single. Gigi had dismissed all of that, overlooked the coincidences.For the first time in weeks, she follows them to their natural conclusion.

One - Jackie hooked up with someone who looked like her. Jackie is attracted to how she looks.

Two - Jackie takes care of her whenever she needs it, puts Gigi’s needs above her own. Multiple times, she’s told Gigi that she matters more than a hookup, more than anyone she’s brought home.

Three - Jackie just called out her name while masturbating. Her name, not her partner’s because she hasn’t had one. Not in weeks.

Four - Jackie wants her. Jackie likes her.

Gigi feels like she’s dreaming.

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter 3: blood pill

when you're in your room, you feel tired and lonely. it's been a long afternoon with doctors running around to find a new carer for you while miss burnham went home to recover. most of all, you were terrified that michael was being treated unfairly. there were sick rumours of doctor loomis mistreating patients, but you'd have to wait and see.

tags: angst, morning sickness, pregnancy/pregnancy tests

warnings: forced abortion, vomiting, angst, crying, yandere themes

huge trigger warning for (forced) abortions this chapter, i want to go into how patients are treated by the hospital as this is set in the 1980's and people in mental hospitals were treated cruelly around that time (esp in the halloween franchise) if you can't read this chapter, that's completely fine! i hope you're doing well, drink plenty of water and eat three meals - rin <3

michael had been gone for 4 weeks now, and you felt terrified. when you woke up this morning, you started vomiting and found that you can't move too quickly as you'll grow nauseous. miss burnham had visited, and was on crutches, only to be sent home by the administrator of the hospital. you felt lonely, they still hadn't found a free nurse as the hospital was pretty full, causing most of the staff to be overworked and unable to fit you on a schedule. so, doctor addison took you in on his more light schedule, he was simply researching cotard syndrome, and had three patients under his care for therapy and interviews about how they felt and how they became the way they are today. so, when you got up, after checking michael's room for any sign of him, you headed to the rec room where one of doctor addison's patients sat. they were talking, and the poor girl was truly convinced she was a vampire, referring to herself as "the mistress of the dark." you believed her name was thelma, but you weren't sure as she was never interested in talking to you and you just left her be. "thank you for your time, miss howcroft. i shall leave you to your undead activities." doctor addison bows his head before heading over to you.

"good morning, y/n. you look a little rough." the doctor greets, and you huff. "mhm. i feel sick, just spent 5 minutes throwing up." you sigh, and doctor addison hums, beginning to scribble down notes on a new page. "tell me your symptoms?" he suggests, and you hum. "nauseous, just feeling generally ill. i feel like i'm going to throw up." you tell him, and he hums, writing down the information you gave him. "morning sickness?" he suggests, looking up at you. "pfft, yeah maybe." you sigh, grabbing a cup to fill up with water. "is there any chance you could be pregnant?" he asks, and you choke on your drink. growing flustered, you stammer slightly, looking away from the man. "i'm guessing so from what i witnessed." he teases, nudging your side. "shut up..! i'm not pregnant." you huff, glancing at your stomach. "you could be, i'll get a test for you." he says, leaving the room.

you sigh, looking over at thelma who was staring at you. she makes a small noise as she realises she's been caught gawking, and you furrow your brows as she slinks away out of the room. you had noticed her wandering around curiously, sometimes spending her time with a burn victim. they seemed to get on pretty well, and you and doctor addison made a bet that they were secretly dating. when doctor addison returns, he hands you a thin box. "take this, and tell me the results asap." he smiles, pushing the box into your hands. "fine.. but i don't think i'm pregnant as morning sickness normally happens before this time." you note, but doctor addison corrects you. "no, morning sickness starts around the 4th to 6th week of pregnancy." he smiles, and you roll your eyes as you walk into the bathroom.

your heart dropped when you saw the results. you were pregnant. terrified of how the doctors would react, how miss burnham would react, but most importantly.. how would michael take it? would he be happy or would he ditch you? "fuck.." you whimper, tears streaking down your face. a few gentle knocks sound through the bathroom and you flinch. "y/n? are you done?" doctor addison calls through the door, and you whine as you open it up for him. "so..?" he asks softly, and you hand him the stick. "oh my... congratulations!" he smiles brightly, pulling you into a hug. you cry into his coat, and addison's smile drops as he rubs your back. "how will everyone react?" you whimper, and the blonde man sighs. "that i can't say, but we have to tell the board of your pregnancy. i'll leave it to you to tell mr. myers. come on, i'll take you to solitary to see him." he says, his british accent gentle and soothing. "thank you.. i'm scared but- i have to tell him at least." you sniffle, letting him lead you out of the room.

you've never been to solitary, as you normally stayed in your room or stowed away in the corner of the room. so seeing all the patients locked away and seemingly bored or distressed scared you. "is he okay?" you ask softly, and doctor addison shrugs. "i'm not sure.." he says softly, glancing at one of the more erratic patients in his cell. all of them were sound proof, inside and out, and were dark and cramped. "oh god.." you mumble, grabbing the doctors arm tightly for protection as you rest a hand over your stomach without realising. you get to michael's cell, and you see doctor loomis sat with him. michael spots you immediately, and his eyes brighten a little. you give him a small wave, upset at the bruises on his face and neck, desperate to get in there and hold him tightly. doctor addison gets his master key and unlocks a small panel on the door. "doctor loomis, i need to borrow mr myers." he says firmly as the older doctor turns. "ah, doctor addison. what a surprise." he grins, standing from his chair and turning his back to michael. "i'm just about done here. keep a close eye on him, he's deemed dangerous." doctor loomis says as he steps out.

you slip past the doctors and latch onto michael tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck, forgetting about his bruises. he doesn't seem to care as his shackled hands find your hips, holding you closer. "i've missed you.." you mumble, moving away to cup his face in your hands. "me too. are you alright?" he rasps, voice rough from lack of use. you nod slightly, leaning your forehead against his as you gently brush his hair with your fingers. "how peculiar. i've never seen anyone get a positive reaction out of him." doctor loomis notes, and addison hums. "they have a special bond, but we need to let them have a private conversation as i tell the board the situation." he says, closing the door to speak to loomis privately as well.

"are you alright?" you ask, still resting one of your hands on his cheek. "mhm. i'm fine." he replies, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you fully onto his lap. the two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you curl into his chest. "how long until you get out?" you ask after a while, and michael hums. "soon." he responds, kissing the top of your head. "can i tell you something..?" you continue, voice quiet. "of course." he says, tilting your chin with his finger so you would look at him. "i'm pregnant.." you announce, averting your gaze from his. michael smiles, the thought of you swelling with his child was so hot to him, a true marking, but the thought of having a kid annoyed him. he doesn't like kids... but he'd make an exception for you. "michael..?" you mumble, tears welling in your eyes.

"don't worry, i'm happy." he smiles, nuzzling his nose against yours. you smile, kissing him softly. "thank you for not turning me away.." you sigh happily and michael rolls his eyes. "i would never. you're mine now, forever." he mumbles, resting his large hand on your stomach. you feel warm inside, and despite being terrified of the teen pregnancy, you felt happy that you weren't in this alone. the door opens abruptly, and you jump. "y/n, please come with me so we can talk." doctor loomis crosses his arms and you feel unsafe as you shuffle closer to michael. "talk to me here.." you say quietly, not willing to leave michael again, and he clearly feels the same way as he holds you tighter- this time being careful of your stomach. "fine. i'm assuming you've told him of your predicament." doctor loomis adjusts his glasses before continuing. "the board just won't allow a pregnancy between two patients, let alone between two 17 year olds." he continues as doctor addison looks away. "i'm sorry, but we're going to have to perform an abortion." the blonde sighs from where he stood. "what?! no!" you protest, draping your arms around your stomach protectively. "don't worry, y/n. it'll be over before you know it." doctor loomis smiles.

michael moves to stand, putting you down carefully and moving in front of you. "don't touch them." he says, voice rough as he speaks up. "i'm afraid you have no say in the matters, myers. hand them over." loomis says, folding his arms. "no." he furrows his brows, feeling you clutch the back of his shirt as you nuzzle into his back. "myers, this is crucial. let me take y/n to my operation room." loomis says sternly, taking a step closer. "over my dead body." he growls, and loomis simply smiles again. "we'll dig one hole." he shoots back, grabbing michael's wrist and stabbing a syringe into his vein. michael feels himself growing weaker slowly, but his urge to protect you- to protect his baby- is too much. tugging on his shackles, he tries to lunge for the doctor, but alas, he slumps to his knees as you gasp, moving to help him.

"now then, y/n. come with me please." loomis smiles at you, taking your arm into his hand to pull you from michael. "no! michael, help!" you yelp, trying to struggle. "enough, doctor loomis! you can't hold my patient like that." addison steps up, trying to pull you from the older doctor. "now now, addison. you don't want to get in trouble for stopping the process now, would you?" loomis teases, and you feel dizzy at how fast the doctor had pulled you. michael tries to grab you again, but he collapses fully onto the floor, unable to help you as you cry. eventually, a needle pricks your neck and you cry in pain before growing dizzy. "michael..!" you whimper as your world goes dark.

when you awaken, you're lay in your bed, snugly wrapped up in your blankets but something's wrong. you feel... empty. you can just tell that your baby was gone, and you start to sob. you cry for hours, feeling no motivation to get up to dry your tears or get some water for your dry throat. you just cry, clutching your stomach as you roll onto your side. your baby wasn't even a month into development, and they had stripped you of them. you barely got to experience pregnancy with michael, barely got to feel like a parent. your door clicks open, and you don't even react as you sob into your pillow. "y/n." a gruff voice starts, and you finally turn. michael moves over to your bed, and you scramble to hug him tightly. "they- they..!" you wail, and michael sighs as he holds you close to his chest.

michael didn't feel anything, but the sight of you mourning made him feel sick. he wanted revenge on the facility for making you feel like this, wanted to murder anyone who hurt you. "my baby..!" you cry, still clutching your tummy as he holds you. michael kisses your head softly, rubbing your belly for you. "it's okay. they won't get away with this. i'll make sure of it." he grumbles, a tinge of anger in his voice. "they killed my baby.." you whimper, hands coming up to grasp onto michael instead, his presence comforted you as you guessed he was feeling the same way. "it's alright.. i'll make sure they never hurt you again." michael states, laying down with you carefully as you settle with him, letting you cry yourself to sleep into his chest.

time passes, and doctor addison grants michael access to stay in your room whilst you mourn. he feels rage boiling his blood as he has to force you to eat, to drink, to shower, to take medication, to take care of yourself at all. they made you like this, and he was going to make them pay for every ounce of distress that filled your mind. currently, you were fast asleep against his chest, mumbling something incoherent in your sleep. michael can't sleep, and he doesn't mind staying awake until you feel better even if it kills him. you were his top priority, his obsession. he loved you deeply, and cared about what happened to you.

they had destroyed all progress you had made, you couldn't even get out of bed to go to therapy. michael gives you a small kiss on your forehead as you shuffle in your sleep slightly, your hands clutching his shirt tightly. tears are slipping from your closed eyes as you sleep, and michael gently rubs them away, leaning in again to kiss you softly. you relax slightly, but when he pulls away you whimper. "my baby..!" you cry despite being asleep. michael lets out a small breath as he rubs your back, fluttering soft kisses over your face so that you would settle again. "michael..?" you mumble, and he hums softly. "it's okay, i'm here." he says back, unsure if you're still sleeping or not.

you doze off again, content in your dream, still grasping his shirt tightly to keep him close. michael checks the time behind him, it was 3:41 am, time was going so slow. michael's throat was dry, and he can't fight the urge to go get water. slowly, he slips from your grip and gets up, unknown to the fact that despite unconscious you knew he left. as he gets a drink from the tap in the bathroom, you cry softly, curling in on yourself. your cries grow distressed as you lurch up, wide awake. "mike!" you yelp, hands trembling as you search for him. the other patient steps from the bathroom quickly, stalking over to grab you tightly. you settle with your head on his chest as he bundles you up into his arms. "it's okay.." he mumbles as your tears wet his shirt. "why did they do this to me..?" you cry, looping your arms under his to pull him closer. "because they don't care about anyone in this hospital." michael's reply is sour, and he moves back to the bed with you.

you sniffle as he lays you down, and you make grabby hands at him. chuckling, michael joins you and wraps you both up in the covers. "thank you for being here.." you mumble, nuzzling into his chest as you wrap your arms around his middle. "mhm, i love you." he smiles, kissing your head softly. "i.. i love you too." you reply softly, smiling brightly. after a few moments of silence, michael assumes you've fallen asleep but your small voice mumbles his name. "hm?" he looks down at you. "if we get the chance, would you like to have kids?" you ask softly, and michael is slightly taken aback. "in here or when we get out?" he questions back and you shrug. "either." you mumble, and michael thinks. "absolutely. i'll do anything for you." he says softly, "besides, the thought of you being full of my kids is hot as fuck." he adds teasingly, enjoying how you fluster. "thank you.." you mumble to the first part as he gives you a soft kiss.

michael pulls your leg over his hips and you hum, happily shuffling closer to him. "you're so cute.." michael whispers as you settle on him. "stop." you whine, hiding your smile. "mm, no." he teases, lifting your head to give you a soft kiss. three soft knocks interrupt your moment, and you sit up. "it's almost 4 am, who..?" you trail off as michael gets up, gesturing for you to stay put. slowly, michael peels the door open and is surprised to see doctor addison standing there. "may i come in?" he asks softly, and michael looks back to you. you seem uncomfortable, yet nod, so michael lets him in. "i just want to apologise.. i shouldn't of told them, i just... my research means anything to me and if i slip up it will mean nothing." he explains, and michael hides you protectively behind him.

you sniffle slightly, leaning against michael's shoulder. "however, if anything were to reoccur... i promise i won't tell as long as i can keep doing my research." he says, placing another pregnancy test on your bedside table. you eye it curiously, and despite feeling a lot of pain you know it's always possible to try again. "thank you.." you mumble, circling your arms fully around michael as he continues to watch the doctor's every move. "i hope you can find it in you to forgive me, y/n.. i think miss burnham is coming back soon so hopefully you both can do art therapy again." he smiles, leaving the room after bidding farewell.

michael grabs the test, offering it to you. "what do you think?" he asks softly, and you take the box from him. "i might still need some time, but i will happily try again." you smile, and michael smiles back.

[soft-for-them]

husband has a real ring to it ♡ sam wilson x male reader

anon: hey so like, being sam wilson's husband (or new husband) at your wedding??? (sorry it’s a bit short...)

i haven’t specified if the male reader is cis or trans but there is a bit in here where the reader compares themself to steve, whether you see this as the reader being trans or cis is up to you.

the gif has no significance it’s just a good gif... also there is a HUGE lack of sam content out there. people get you shit together and write about my fave man. not proof read.

It is an odd time.

The country you now stand in is completely foreign to you. Nat can speak the language; you think it might me some form of Russian. If you could guess you think you might be in the Ukraine or a country that was once a part of Soviet Union.

None of the on the run Avengers will tell you exactly where you are for you safety but you don’t care.

All you care about right now is the blazer you just tried on is too wide at the shoulders.

Even Steve says the shoulders of the jet black jacket are too wide even for him and that saying something coming from a man who was artificially made to be the spitting image of masculinity and heroism.

Sometimes you do get jealous of the super soldier and how he came to be.

Once a skinny and short kid now the second most handsome man you’ve ever seen, sometimes you think ‘if only i was as strong as Steve and not a useless civilian’.

Thought if anyone hears your negative thoughts in this small, cramped room off the side of a small abandoned church you would be done for. 

Natasha, Wanda, Steve and Sam have always loved you and they don’t tolerate your pessimism at all. None of them will take your self-loathing especially on this very day.

But that’s the thing, you’re not self-loathing today. You push away any non-happy thoughts and put on a genuine smile.

It may not be official in the eyes of the law for your other half is a wanted war criminal but your getting married to your long time boyfriend Sam Wilson today and nothing will stop you from doing so. You have both promised that he will properly marry you but for now you have agreed to exchanging rings.

‘Where did you find this place?’ you ask Nat as she takes you too big blazer from you.

The place is completely and utterly abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Plants have caved in apart of the roof but the stained glass still absorbs and reflects light making the rotten pews look like the seats of a king.

‘I knew you might not want to get married in a church but this is the safest place I could find, that with the fact this is no longer a place of worship.’ She walks over to you and tucks a handkerchief into your white dress shirt pocket.

Regardless of if your religious or not you know this place is a perfectly acceptable place to trade rings with the man you love.

Nat looks you over and smiles, her arms wrapping themselves around you in a rare hug.

‘You look very handsome (y/n).’ she mutters.

‘Even with my beard?’ you half joke, referring to the scraggly hair growing back on your chin from shaving it off the week before for a disguise.

‘You have a better beard that Sam and Cap put together.’ Her tone is joyous but utterly serious which makes you smile grow even bigger.

You do not feel any negativity, all you feel is utter euphoria in your wedding attire.

‘You ready to go’ she whispers like a happy mother about to marry off her only son.

All you do is nod as you let her lead you out to the alter where you both wait for Sam and Cap to arrive.

Wanda sits in a front pew; she very obviously misses Vision and if it was up to you he would be here to celebrate for you had befriended the synthetic man before the ‘civil war’ happened.

But alas none of you can risk you all being found out on your unofficial wedding day.

For a moment you all wait in silence looking up the stain glass of some kind of saint.

This isn’t the place you want to get married in but you can see it’s charm even if it’s been abandoned, ransacked and left to rot.

You can imagine Steve giving Sam a prep talk, for he had given you one about an hour before.

When Steve had talked to you he seemed like a overjoyed father, even with the tears in his eyes, you’re still thankful the super soldier talked to you.

Your waiting is cut short as the side door that you and Nat had came through opens to show both Steve and Sam.

Steve walks out first, holding the door open for Sam then Sam walks out, his eyes automatically on you.

‘Ow, I though Steve was going to walk you down the aisle.’ Wanda quips to Sam despite her brooding feelings.

A short conversation goes on between Sam and Steve (probably another pep talk) but all you can focus on is Sam looking at you as he talks to Steve.

Steve pats Sam on the shoulder, which turns into a hug, then he lets him go.

 Sam wears a suit very similar to yours; a simple black suit that could be found quickly and very easily without being detected by Tony or an of the American government.

The woman in the small mum and pop shop where very kind to you both despite their being a language barrier, they had helped you get the suits for a good price.

Much like you also Sam wears no blazer jacket, with you don’t mind considering you can see every muscle through the hand made white shirt.

‘Where’s your blazer?’ you ask.

He walks right out to you and holds your hands. His hands are cold but you assume it’s from standing around in a derelict church for a while.

‘It was too small in the shoulders.’ He smiles, the gap in teeth showing.

‘Ah, that could have been my blazer Sam.’ You laugh grabbing the attention of the others. You all laugh at the mishap of the mixed up blazer but that doesn’t really matter.

Wanda stands up and passes both of you the rings; one single silver band with your name carved on the inside for you and a much fancier looking ring for Sam. Despite Sam’s ring looking more expensive it’s actually very cheap.

He had quickly bought it when you were all hiding out in China, Sam had quickly realised that he had a ring for you but he didn’t have one for himself. He’s had your pure silver ring for years now waiting for the right moment to give it to you.

 ‘How do we actually do this?’ you whisper whilst the other sit down on the pews.

‘I don’t really know, maybe when just exchange the rings and say something.’

‘Like vows? Do we kiss?’ the questioning isn’t really that serious for the two of you are smiling like idiots.

‘Well all I can say is that I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you-’ Sam begins saying as he slips the silver ring on your finger, ’-I love you my husband.”’

’Wow… husband has a real ring to it.’ You beam as look down at Sam’s hands, you fingers nimbly placing his ring on, ‘-Does this now mean I get to kiss the bride?’

Your joke not only makes yourself laugh but you can hear the laughter of the other in the background.

‘Gladly.’ Is all Sam say before holding your face and kissing you.

.

.

.

honestly i don’t think this is the best thing ever but i’m posting it.

i’ve been writing a lot of ftm trans reader requests today so i kind of automatically wrote the reader as trans at first. i’ve changed it so the reader can be cis or trans but i just putting that out there just in case i’ve forgotten to change something. (sorry)

also i know that many people have different types of weddings and cultures so i’ve tried to make it as ambiguous as i can, that why it’s not a technically legal wedding.

anyway, sam is the best and i would love to write more fics for him!

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 3

Maul x Sith Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Drinking, fluff

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      Alas, all moments come to an end. This one, with your eyes lazily opening to the slightest appearance of red sunlight outside the viewport above your head. You stretched and realized you were in a bit of an entanglement of limbs with your master. Your legs intertwined behind you. His chest pressed firmly to your back and his arms wrapped around your stomach, your hands holding his around you.

    Still mostly asleep, he pulled you closer to him and grumbled something about a few more minutes and a small smile danced across your lips. However, not wanting this precarious position to warrant any kind of awkward conversation you slipped from his grasp and made your way to the door. Looking back for just a moment to see his red and black hand patting around where you once lay. Trying not to chuckle you strode off the ship, greeting Angel who had returned from his hunt. You began your morning strength training because at the end of the day, nothing had changed. At the same time everything had, you just didn't realize it yet.

 ~~~~~

      Cold air pricked at Maul's skin, now exposed due to your absence. His eyes opened just in time to see his bedroom door shut behind you. He refrained from getting up too quickly and instead rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose.

    Why could he still smell your sweet earthy scent? Why did your hair tickle his cheek in such gentle way? He breathed a heavy sigh, trying as he might to push these intrusive thoughts from his mind. You were his apprentice, and a powerful one at that with the potential to go down in history as one of the strongest Sith lords in the galaxy, he couldn't risk that outcome. You had simply needed reassurances after experiencing a trauma that wasn’t conductive to your training. He still wished you were lying beside him though.

    He took the opportunity to glance out of the view port and watched you doing push-ups beside your Angel. He observed you when you stopped and looked at the beast who met your gaze, picking up his robe and walking over to a tree. You held up the robe in front of your body and when it fell you were nowhere in sight. The rancor started whining and sniffing the fallen robe before you popped out from the top of the tree exploding with laughter at the creature’s surprise. The ground shook as the semi-sentient being chased you around the camp. Still howling with laughter, you stayed just out of his grasp.

    Maul shook his head and smiled at your simplistic joy, feeling the power around you swell from the emotion. A prime example of what you had told him last night. He made his way to the kitchenette and readied some hot caf while searching for food, coming across some fresh bread, no doubt you had made the evening before trying to stave off sleep before succumbing in the chair. Astounded at how crisp and fluffy it was.

    Taking his time, he sauntered out of the ship with two cups of caf to find you perched in a tall tree, just out of the reach of your frustrated pet.

"If you're done playing with your little friend, we have work to attend to young one.”

"Of course Master, my apologies for my distraction." You called, pretending to faint off of your branch only to be caught in Angel's hand. "Thank you, cutie." You cooed before making your way over to your master, still a look of amusement on your face. The rancor, now bored, walked back over to his makeshift nest and closed his eyes.

Gratefully accepting the outstretched mug, you took a long heavenly swill and rolled your eyes.

"I honestly can't tell if your affections for the beast are genuine or a long-lasting joke."

"Eh, kinda both I guess. Well, it started out as a joke for sure but I am starting to love that monster. Like I said last night, he’s a good boy.”

"You do realize we can't take him with us, yes?"

"Yes, master I'm fully aware I can't smuggle a fully grown rancor under my bunk or inside a cabinet when we do leave this place." You chuckled. "Still, I have this... unrelenting feeling that I will need him before we disembark."

"Tis the will of the force..." Maul took another sip of the hot beverage. "Or you're bordering on the edge of insanity." He smirked quite pleased with himself. Forgetting for a moment that he was your master you bumped him with your hip, "ugh I'm wounded."

"You will be if we don't work on what you call forms with your saber," returning your bump.

"Fair enough." You sighed, downing the last of your caf.

    Hours went by and you hadn't even sparred. He continuously worked you through forms. Constantly having to stop you and roughly reposition your hips, arms or legs when you weren't taking the verbal ques as well as he liked. His brow creasing deeper the longer you went on. You made progress but it was painfully slow. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, an almost trademarked gesture at this point.

"That's enough, take a few minutes. I don't know who needs a break more, you or I."

You groaned and flopped onto the pressed ground, hard.

    Maul sat a few feet away from you, legs crossed under him silent for a few minutes before he spoke confounded.

"I don't understand. You can create lightning, touch the minds of beasts, sense the force in the planet amongst other talents I'm sure you have that I haven't seen yet. I've seen you other weapons, wielding that spear you made like you were born with it clutched in your grasp and your standard hand to hand combat is... graceful, fluid yet grounded, strong and sure but as soon as you pick up this blade in particular it's as if that all falls away. Why?"

"The crystal within this weapon is not mine. It belonged to the Jedi T'chooka D'oon and every time I ignite it, I can feel his presence. Watching me. A voiceless whisper constantly reminding me that I was unworthy of the teachings of the Jedi I didn't even want. Try as I might to scratch that itch, to stave the prickling I haven’t been able to push his soul completely out. Only pissing him off apparently."

Your master contemplated this newfound information.

"The crystal hasn't been tortured enough." The question in your eyes shone as you turned to him. Maul continued.

"When a Sith steals a saber from a jedi they must torture it until the presence leaves and the saber turns red. You seem to have done enough to change the pigment but not drive away the light force within. I'm afraid you have stolen the weapon of a rather powerful jedi, despite the fact that he fell to the Droid General Grievous."

"It doesn't feel right in my hands. Something does call to me from afar though.. A thought rings in my mind but I don't know if there's truth in it or wishful thinking."

    Maul uncrossed his legs and faced you. One knee bent, resting his arm on it, the other extended just barely brushing his foot to yours.

"What is this thought?"

You turned, laying on your side and propped your head on your hand but not pulling your foot away from his.

"Is it possible... to form a crystal of your own. Not find one in the jedi temples but to create one?"

"Hmmm, further proof you are indeed connected strongly with those who came before you. An almost archaic rite of passage for the Sith of old. They stopped and simply found it easier to corrupt a jedi's kyber but they did in fact used to make their own. If there's anywhere in the universe that the means to do still exist it will be in the temple on Malachor. Perhaps a crystal for you already exists there if you’re feeling a pull."

    You nodded in understanding. Looking to him with another unspoken question. He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Yes, we can go. I estimate that Savage won't return to normal for another few weeks. Besides, I told you we would get you some clothes of your own. You can't wear mine forever."

"True, but it's a shame. They look so much better on me." Maul chuckled at this as he stood up taking a moment to admire you. "That may be the case but I had them first and I can be very territorial." He extended his hand and helped you to your feet.

"Kiss your little friend over there good bye and meet me in the cockpit."

"But of course Master." You drawled while giving him an obnoxious bow.

    He watched you as you bid Angel farewell and the two of you turned to walk different directions. You towards the ship and him back to the forest. Eagerly you scrambled onto the ship and took the seat at your master's side within the cockpit. He punched in the coordinates to Corellia once you left the atmosphere so you could refuel and restock supplies. The stars stretched as the ship went into hyperspace and you threw your hands in the air as if you were on a rollercoaster. Maul simply gave you a side eye.

"Ugh." You groaned. "I miss Savage he always laughs at my jokes." This made Maul smile, happy you didn't seem to hold anything against his brother.

"Get comfortable, it's a long flight. We will be stuck in here for about two standard rotations."

"Alright, alright I hear you."

    You stood and made your way towards the common area in the middle of the ship. Rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat or something to do, boredom already getting the better of you just at the thought of being in a small space. You didn't hear your master leave the cockpit and stand in the doorway to watch you.

"If you're already bored it's going to be a miserable flight for you." You jumped, completely and utterly caught.

"How did you sneak up on me, no one can."

He smirked and opened the one drawer you hadn't yet, pulling out a deck of cards.

"I am the master am I not?" He sat and shuffled the cards nodding towards your usual seat.

"You might be my Master but I'm the master when it comes to sabacc. Deal at your own risk."

"I believe I'll take that risk."

    After both winning and losing a few hands in silence and with small talk Maul asked you, "so where did you learn to play."

"I watched adults play outside cantinas when I was a youngling. One of the patrons, an older man noted my interest and offered to teach me. It put food in my belly most nights. You?"

"My Master taught me also when I was young." He played a card. "It was the only time I can remember where I wasn't sleeping, training or learning some kind of lesson. Did your kin not worry about you hanging around old men outside a cantina or teach you the game themselves"

"I lost them before I was old enough to play. Although I'm sure they would've worried should they had been around during my cantina days." Now you played a card.

Maul leaned back in his chair not taking his eyes off of his hand. "How did they die?" You paused at this, causing Maul to take a quick glance at you. A painful look on your face lay just behind your eyes. It was not one that he had seen before. Snapping out of it you smirked. "Another time perhaps master." You laid down a winning hand looking quite pleased with yourself and sticking your tongue out playfully.

"You're a sore winner." He snarled but there was humor laced in his words. You simply shrugged.

"I'm a Sith. Aren't we supposed to be a sore everything?" He smiled and threw his hand down telling you to shuffle and deal while he grabbed a few glasses and a bottle of Cassandran Brandy.

 ~~~~~

      Countless rounds had been lost and won between the two of you. The more you drank the easier your face flushed and you could have sworn Maul eyed your form more than a few times. Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy as your master spoke up.

"Alright apprentice, you've lost the last five rounds in a row its painfully obvious it’s time to rest."

"One more round!" You protested "I'm not tired yet."

"Fine but let's make it interesting.." the brandy had given him inflated courage thinking back on the previous night when he could hold you. Wanting that feeling again.

"If I win.. you’ll share my bed with me again. If you win... I'll share my bed with you." He had hoped you were too drunk to catch that. You weren't but you pretended to be.

"You're on."

    Like the last five rounds you lost this one too, groaning in defeat. Maul just chuckled and stood as you did.

"Deals a deal and I'm exhausted." You told him. He very gently guided you back to his room so you wouldn't stumble. He tossed a clean tunic over your direction and made his way towards the fresher. Not moving until you heard the water running you grinned and smelled the new garb. It smelled like him still. You smiled. Once you were dressed you hopped under the covers and lay your head down.

    His bed was much more comfortable than yours was. You closed your eyes as you heard the water shut off.

 ~~~~~

      Maul stood in the doorway and observed you for just a second. He had thought you were asleep so you surprised him when you lifted your head and met his gaze.

"Are you coming? It's chilly up here in space and I swear you must run at a thousand degrees."

    He shook his head trying to contain a grin. "You're so impatient apprentice."

But still he made his way to the bed and lay next to you. Not wanting to initiate contact, fearing you might construe his intentions. To his inner delight you turned and draped yourself over him. Taking his arm and wrapping it around you. Knowing you couldn't see his face he smiled widely, holding you tightly. With his free hand he ran his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep. He wasn't far behind you.

[harrysweasleys]

seven years // h.p

 Summary: Hey! I want to request a harry potter x reader in which the reader is friends with the golden trio since first year (they are the golden quartet) and harry and the reader are in love with each other and during the battle of howarts harry finds time to confess his feelings and finally kiss her passionately. (In a kinda dramatic scenario if it's possible? Somewhat like the romione kiss?) I would love it so much if you write it! Send you a virtual hug! Bye!

Warnings: blood, violence, mentions of death

Word Count: 3k

A/N: this one was fun to write. there isn’t enough harry content out there.

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FIRST YEAR

Meeting Harry on the train had been an accident. A happy one, yes, but an accident nonetheless. You had tumbled into his compartment, hair disheveled and eyes wide, hoping to find a hiding place from the two red haired boys who were playing pranks on unsuspecting first years.

When you noticed two boys were already sitting there, you made your way to leave, when the dark-haired one called out to you.

“Wait, are you trying to hide?” he had asked, taking in your distressed state.

“Yes,” you nodded, “There are twins, I think they’re twins, throwing little smoke bombs everywhere. I got hit.”

The ginger haired boy sitting across from him groaned, “Oh, those are my brothers.” He smiled apologetically at you and you nodded back.

“You can hide in here, if you want,” the dark haired boy spoke to you again. His eyes were kind, light, and within moments of knowing him, you felt like you could trust him. It was oddly unsettling, but you figured what eleven year old could do any harm?

So you nodded, “Okay.”

And that’s how you got to meet Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, eventually meeting Hermione Granger not long after. The four of you had a strange start to your friendship, defeating a troll to save Hermione, pegging Snape to be a psychopath, and destroying the Philosopher’s Stone.

And that was only your first year.

SECOND YEAR

When the year had started up again, you were practically bubbling with excitement. The three friends you had made in the previous year had been your only source of sanity, really, so getting back to Hogwarts could not come sooner.

When Harry and Ron didn’t arrive on the train, you sat the whole way with Hermione worrying about where they could possibly be. Had they missed it? Were they sitting alone because you had done something wrong?

But, alas, your questions were answered when the two arrived at Hogwarts, looking anxious and exhilarated.

“We took a flying car,” Harry muttered to you once he took his seat next to you in the Great Hall, “Ron’s dad’s car.”

“You — what? A flying car? Were you spotted?” you couldn’t hide the worry you were feeling. If they had been spotted, they could get thrown out of school.

“We got detention,” Harry ignored your question, his body still very tense, “For a month.”

Across the table, you noticed Ron explaining to Hermione the same things Harry was telling you, her face contorting into shock and disbelief as he told his side of the story.

As if the start of the year hadn’t been adventurous enough, students were beginning to drop like flies all around the school with no real explanation.

So, naturally, people suspected Harry.

“I believe you,” you had told him one night after he vented to you about definitely not being involved, “Harry, you know I’ll always believe you. I’m here to help.”

He stopped his blubbering, “Really?”

You grinned at him, “Of course. What are friends for?”

And, true to your word, you stuck by him as you maneuvered the case of the Chamber of Secrets. You had even entered the Chamber with him, helping him escape the Basilisk and saving Ginny’s life.

“You’re the best, y’know?” Harry had asked once Fawkes saved him, his eyelids becoming heavy and his voice slightly slurred, “Thanks for everything.”

“Don’t thank me for being a friend, Harry,” you helped him up, “Now, c’mon, let’s get you to safety.”

THIRD YEAR

Third year was when you realized you were beginning to fall for your best friend. It started on the train, the moment Harry jumped in front of you and took the Dementor head on, unfortunately passing out but luckily getting saved by the new professor.

For weeks, you couldn’t look at him the same. He had been so selfless, so brave, and yet, you knew he was as terrified as the rest of you.

He had grown a lot over the summer too. His hair was longer, messier, and you had to admit, you liked the look.

But only when Harry plummeted nearly a hundred feet off of his broom in a messy Quidditch match did you realize that, yes, indeed, you were falling fast.

“You scared the bloody hell out of me, Harry,” you ran to his bedside once he woke up, his eyes having trouble adjusting to the brightness of the room, “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, brilliant,” he replied, his voice coarse, “Best I’ve ever felt.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped your lips, “Well, you look fantastic.”

He grinned up at you, flashing his teeth, “Thanks for being here, Y/N. Where are the others? Ron and Hermione?”

In truth, Hermione knew about how you had begun to feel towards Harry, so she diverted Ron in order to give you some private time. But you couldn’t tell him that.

“She’s helping him with homework,” you lied casually.

He nodded, “Oh, alright.”

You stood up and sat on the edge of his bed, linking his hand with yours, “I’ll keep you company, though.”

And so you did. While Harry was dealing with the traumatic aftermath of finding Sirius Black, you were by his side, helping him deal with the news that his godfather was actually the good guy. It took him a while to process it, and you were there for him the whole time.

FOURTH YEAR

As if realizing you had feelings for your best friend wasn’t hard enough, in your fourth year, you had to watch Harry fall for another girl. Cho Chang, the talented dark-haired Ravenclaw, had caught his attention on the train and it was clear he had feelings for her.

Hermione had comforted you, making your realize that she didn’t compare to you at all, but it didn’t help how you had felt that entire year.

When Harry and Ron fought, you were by Harry’s side.

“I believe you, I know you didn��t put your name in,” you told him one night when Harry had been feeling particularly low.

“Thanks,” he had responded, “You’re the best.”

But, no matter how much advice you have him, nor how much help you provided, he didn’t see you as more than a friend. So, you figured getting over your feelings would be the way to go.

Hermione had helped you distance yourself from him. When Harry asked about you, she’d change the subject. When Ron asked about you, she told him the truth. You had watched from afar when Hermione and Ron were picked to be the victims in the Second Task, wondering if Harry would ever see you as anything more than his friend.

By the end of the year, Harry found himself deeply missing your presence. It wasn’t the same without you, and Hermione and Ron felt it too.

You approached Harry one night in the hospital wing after the third task, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. To see something so horrible.”

Harry, bloodied and emotionally bruised on the hospital bed, smiled at you, “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled sadly, taking a seat, “I’m sorry about that too. But I’ve never stopped being proud of you, y’know? Always have been and always will be.”

Harry looked at you for a long time, both of you unsure of what to say next, until he spoke up again, “Hermione said you were dealing with something. D’you mind sharing? It’ll help take my mind off of what just happened.”

Feeling incredibly guilty, you tore your eyes away from him, “I’ll tell you one day. This isn’t the time.”

He seemed to accept your answer, but truth be told, he was thankful to have you by his side again and he didn’t want to push you away by pressing you even more.

“I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm, but I’ll be back in the morning, yeah?” you smiled at him, standing up off of your chair and looking towards the door.

“No — can you, uh, can you stay?” his voice was quiet, almost pleading, “I just really need someone here.”

Who were you to deny him that? He had just been through a traumatizing experience — witnessed someone dying in front of him. So, you sucked up your pride and your annoying feelings and sat back down, reaching over and linking his hand with yours.

Your touch seemed to sooth him, his eyes fluttered shut and he smiled softly, “Thank you.”

So you sat by his side, talking through the night and part of the next morning. It was safe to say your feelings weren’t going away any time soon.

FIFTH YEAR

Coming into the year, Harry had been conflicted. Half the people at school believed him, and the other half didn’t.

What he found especially strange, though, was that he didn’t care what anyone though, as long as you were on his side.

“Of course, why would you lie about that?” you had said casually one evening in the common room, “Whoever doesn’t believe you will just have a horrible shock when he shows himself. Can’t say we didn’t warn them.”

Harry grinned at you, “You’re the best.”

“I know,” you grinned back.

You had noticed throughout the year how he had been behaving differently. He always asked your opinion, he hung around with you after DA practices were over, and the two of you even went to Hogsmeade alone one afternoon, sharing a laugh over a butterbeer and reminiscing about the simpler days when your only problem was an escaped Basilisk.

Hermione had tried telling you his change in attitude was because he was falling for you too, but you had found it hard to believe. There was no proof and you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“He hasn’t been asking us how we think he’s doing,” Ron told you, raising his eyebrows, “I have to agree with Hermione here.”

“See, even Ronald agrees,” Hermione smirked.

You wanted to believe them, you really did. But it became hard when Harry hid his feelings and emotions so well.

Which is why, one night when you were finishing up another DA meeting and you had stayed behind to clean up the mess, you had been frozen in place by Harry’s lips lightly pressing against yours.

You had kissed him back, naturally, but it was hard to tell whether this was a ‘I’m feeling lonely’ kiss or a ‘I really like you’ kiss. Both of you had pulled away immediately, staring at each other wide-eyed until you laughed it off.

Neither of you mentioned it to Ron or Hermione, but being intuitive as ever, they were both able to tell something had happened between the two of you.

And that something stayed on your mind all summer. Despite the loss of Sirius, despite the threat of the looming war, all you could think about was Harry and how delicately he had kissed you that night.

You were done for.

SIXTH YEAR

Friendship with Harry had changed drastically. Every time you were together now, you shared lingering touches and playful flirting.

There was still a heavy feeling in the air, none of you guys wanting to address it, but you had fun spending the year flirting and teasing him.

You had cheered him on during Quidditch, gotten close to him during parties, sat next to him during meals, and even classes. He seemed to have eyes only for you, and you for him.

“Told you he liked you back,” Hermione boasted about her prediction, “I’m always right.”

“Chill it,” you chuckled, “He hasn’t said anything about liking me back, exactly. We’ll see.”

Luckily for you, Harry had completely ignored most of the girls who now showed interest in him, his eyes focused on you and only you. It was almost too much for you to handle. He had been so caring, so gentle and kind, you often forgot he was still just a friend.

When he won the Felix Felicis in Potions one afternoon, you wondered if he’d use it to ask you out. He didn’t, but you felt lucky enough having him throw compliments at you and get you flustered. 

It was no question to you that after Dumbledore died, you would follow Harry until the ends of the Earth to hunt down the Horcruxes and defeat the Dark Lord.

Honestly, you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth even if the fate of the Wizarding World wasn’t at stake. He was Harry, your Harry, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. 

SEVENTH YEAR

The decision to not return to Hogwarts had been unanimous between you, Harry, Ron and Hermione. None of you thought it was a good decision, nor did any of you want to sit back and let Harry deal with this himself. You spent the summer at the Burrow, finally getting to see Harry again after an eventful Polyjuice Potion filled night. 

“We’re always going to be with you, Harry,” you pulled him in for a hug the evening of the wedding as the two of you swayed slowly on the dance floor, “Always.”

“That means so much to me,” he mumbled into your hair, sending shivers down your spine, “Couldn’t do this without you.”

And that’s how you ended up here, months later, fighting on the school grounds. Bodies had been scattered across the grand corridors, the same corridors that you had called home for six years. Bodies of students that you shared classes with, bodies of students you had seen in the Great Hall.

You weren’t sure how this had happened, how this war had become so devastating and crumbling, but you knew there was no way you’d back out. This wasn’t just Harry’s fight, it was yours too.

You ran through the halls, spells bouncing off of walls and screams echoing through the stone walls, your mind set on Harry.

You bumped into Ron on the way, who had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, both of them looking pale and bloodied. They seemed worse for wear, but both smiled upon seeing you safe and uninjured.

“Have you guys seen Harry?” your voice was shaky, wand gripped tightly between your fingers.

Ron shook his head, “Not in a while.”

Your heart dropped, “Where could he be?”

“Dunno,” Ron shrugged, scanning his eyes over Hermione once more to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured.

“Well, let’s go find him, then!” you glared at the two of them, not understanding how they could be so nonchalant about the whole situation. They seemed more focused on each other. Which wasn’t a major surprise, you knew they’d end up together, but this wasn’t the time.

As you darted down the main corridor, Hermione and Ron also keeping their eyes peeled, you came to a stop in front of the marble staircase, students screaming and rushing by you going unnoticed.

Harry stood ar the top of the stairs, looking down at you all, his face both grateful and exhausted.

“Harry,” you signed, nudging Hermione and Ron to look over. Both their faces broke out into massive grins as they looked at him, relieved.

Before anyone could do or say anything, you took off up the stairs, stopping only when you reached Harry. He smiled at you, face covered in dirt and blood, but his charming smile was enough to get your heart fluttering.

“Hey,” you breathed out, placing your arms around him and pulling him into a bone crushing hug. You seriously hoped he hadn’t injured any ribs or he’d be in even more pain.

“Y/N,” he sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you just as tightly, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“As am I,” you grinned, pulling away and scanning him, “I was so worried about you. We can’t stay separated from now on, it’s too risky—,”

He cut you off by placing his hands on the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. You were stunned, glued to the spot, but you leaned into his touch and kissed back, lips moulding against his. He tasted slightly like blood, but you pushed past it and reeled in the feeling of his touch. Your heart was soaring, your knees threatening to buckle under you as he poured all his feelings into the gesture.

He ran his tongue against your bottom lip before pulling away, eyes clouded and a lazy grin on his lips, “Y/N, I’m in love with you. And I know this isn’t a great time to do this but I just... I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’ve been crazy about you for two years now.”

“I’ve been crazy about you since third year,” you pressed your forehead against his, letting your eyes flutter shut, “Can’t beat that. I wanted to tell you so long ago but I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.”

He lifted his forehead away from yours and pressed his lips quickly to yours once more. For someone who had just been through a war, his kiss was surprisingly soft. His hands gripped your waist and yours found their way into his hair.

After the kiss ended, you looked down to Ron and Hermione who were both grinning broadly and shooting you both a thumbs up. Harry chuckled, pulling you in close to him and resting his head against yours. The war surrounding you seemed distant, forgotten even, as you focused on solely him.

“We’ll make it out of this together, yeah?” he asked softly so only you could hear him.

“Yeah, we will.”

And you were right. After the war ended, you and Harry continued your relationship and it blossomed quickly. He had promised to love you, and he did exactly that. He was the most caring, generous and loving person you had ever met and you felt like the luckiest person alive to have him by your side.

You were absolutely smitten for Harry Potter and there was nothing that could possibly be done to change that.

[xfadingstarx]

A Bleach Retrospective: In defense of Bleach

These are opinions, please respect that.

_______________________________

My Journey with Bleach (please skip if you want to go straight to the analysis):

On September the 8th, 2006 YTV’s weekend evening anime programming block (Bionix) aired the first episode of Bleach. I, unfortunately, did not catch this episode, instead, I caught the second episode on September 15th the following week. I was ten and from then on, Bleach fascinated me. It had an interesting concept, tight pacing, catchy music, a good story, and unique character designs. I also really enjoyed how Bleach lacked the same kind of emotional labour that Naruto demanded (as child who survived off of constantly seeking validation from others because of absentee parents, Naruto is way too much work).

My fascination with Bleach got me started in the fandom communities of yesteryear, for I was a child with zero internet supervision. My introduction to fanfiction was because I loved Hitsugaya Toshiro.

Bleach was my entry into poetry (poem at the start of every volume).

But alas, all good things were not meant to last and by the summer of 2009, I was officially done with Bleach. It had felt stilted for some time before then. Over the years, I would gradually revisit bits and pieces of Bleach, but I would not read it in its entirety until months after its finish, about a decade after I had first saw Bleach on my TV. Between the time I stopped reading and the series ended, I became friends with people who didn’t think highly of Bleach and I also started seeing criticism I had made about Bleach in 2011 being repeated by fans on the internet, I started to think that maybe Bleach was bad, but I knew what bad writing looked like —I started reading fanfiction through Bleach fanfiction AMVs on YouTube — and somehow Bleach didn’t sit right with me in the “bad writing category”. 

I sit back now, a decade and ahalf later from when I first started and ask, “was Bleach really that bad, and if so, why do I keep coming back to it?”

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

What Made Bleach So Good?

Unique story and aesthetics: When Bleach first started in 2001, it was one of the first manga series to talk about souls and death in a poetic way and with such coherence. Bleach clearly knew what it wanted to say about life and death. It also had a very unique aesthetic, very similar to that of “The World Ends With You” or “Persona 5″ — an urban Japanese take on R&B kind of vibe. Also, Bleach had the most “realistic” and minimalist art style amongst the Big 3.

Cool Music: Bleach had cool music, from very solid rock’n’roll and R&B style songs in its OPs and EDs to very funky OST music with lots of pizzazz. Many singers feature by Bleach ended up successful (to varying degrees) outside of anime, eg: Orange Range, UVERworld, YUI, sid, etc.

Versatile tone: Bleach was edgy, there’s no doubt about that. It was willing to show a lot of blood and bodily violence, especially in the manga (eg half of people blowing up and bits of bone still attached). Despite this though, it was not pretentious about its edginess — it didn’t revel in it. To contrast the edginess, there is a lot of humour in Bleach with character interactions. It was able to be laid back enough with its strong characters that it would rely on the characters’ relationships for comedic relief. The post-credit skits and the fillers really helped to add to this overall feel as well.

Maturity of the Story: Bleach was very willing to handle topics that made people think. For example, the Ulquiorra - Orihime subarc was treated with a sense of carefulness about it, as if to reflect Ulquiorra’s own cautious curiosity about the heart. A less emotionally mature story would’ve gone for the cheap rape/torture porn, but instead we are treated to determined strong Orihime, who has found strength through the heart after the death of her brother, clashing with the nihilistic hollow who wants to know if there is happiness outside of emptiness. It’s a very loaded question and one that requires both perspective and life experience to fully understand both parties. As well, Bleach always knew what it wanted to say about life and death as the final conflict of Bleach is between Ichigo, who has accepted his transient life and Yhwach, who is scared of death. And ultimately, underneath all that action, Bleach produced takes on its themes that were hard to relate to unless the reader themselves had a certain level of emotional maturity (eg: 12 year old me got nothing out of the Ulqui-Ori arc, but 20 year old me spent a good 10 mins crying after)

Strong characters: Contrary to popular belief, Bleach does have quite solid characterization. In fact, Bleach is the journey of Ichigo as a character, from grappling with his weakness and pain to finally accepting all the parts of himself and his history in order to defeat Yhwach and protect those he cares about. Even the secondary characters of Bleach receive a sizable amount of backstory and/or development. Bleach also managed to have more proactive female characters. Even the damsel in distress Orihime stands up to Ulquiorra and slaps him. As a result of these strong characters, Bleach was able to rely on them and their relationships to drive aspects of the story (eg Ichigo crying in the Fullbringer arc).

Willingness to Deal with Emotion: Given that Ichigo is an internally motivated character, it was obvious Bleach would deal with emotion at some point in time. Making Ichigo just a normal high school boy also relives the previous edginess. Bleach also clearly too the time to make its readers feel in its early years. We are treated to beautiful panelling and very real displays of strong negative emotions. Bleach is also very good at giving its characters room to breathe and be sad. Eg: moping Orihime, moping Ichigo, etc. As well, Kubo went to extraordinary lengths to break Ichigo down during the Fullbringers Arc.

Interesting Character Designs: Every character in Bleach feels vibrant and unique with their personality showing through in their designs. For example: Shunshi’s sloppily tied up hair, visible stubble, and overcoat-hidden-haori show that he is both easy going and not looking for a fight; meanwhile Byakuya’s neatly pulled back hair and neck covered by scarf show that he is both someone who likes structure and is conservative.

Poetry and Symbolism: Kubo manages to weave poetry into Bleach in the beginning of each volume. The poem was said by the character on the volume. It gave the reader insight to this character and it gave Kubo a chance to flex his poetic chops. Further proof of this is the fact that many people don’t realize that the name “Bleach” refers to the bleaching of soul that is key to the story. Kubo loves to use rain to set sad scenes. It rains when Ichigo fights Grand Fisher, Zangetsu tells Ichigo that he hates the rain, etc. Kubo also specifies that he wishes for the reader to read certain volumes on stormy, rainy nights.

Panelling: Many people like to criticize Kubo for the lack of effort with the Bleach manga, but Kubo has stated that he uses negative space (i.e., foregoing backgrounds) to focus more on his character’s expressions. This not only further proves that Bleach cares a lot about its characters, but it’s done well enough that the average reader likely doesn’t notice the lack of background on the first read through. As well, Bleach has very cinematic panelling. Kubo uses the format of manga well, utilizing the human mind’s ability to fill blanks in with clever panelling to create tone and build tension and the feeling of movement through a scene.

In fact, in finding pages for this analysis, I found myself noticing that Bleach panels very similarly to slice-of-life shoujo but with a boy MC manga like "Horimiya": focus on expression through intimate angles and use of panels and breaks to create mood and the feeling of cinema; whereas something like DBZ panels like a shounen action manga with many hard lines and action shots, instead of a focus on subtle details and emotions.

Some Examples:

Notice now in Chapter 197: The approaching danger, Kubo uses a gradual zoom to build tension and the black background to add intensity and signal to the reader that Hitsugaya is relaying important information.

Here in Chapter 234: Not Negotiation, the immediate close up to Ulquiorra’s eye from the full body shots creates a sense of intimidation and unease with its sudden intimacy. As well, the immediate zoom in from Ulquiorra’s side full body shot to his facial profile creates tension and the change from the dark background to the white face with Orihime releases this tension (very fitting with considering the line for this panel is “but not you”). (This scene also ties into Ulquiorra’s central dogma of “that which is not reflected in my eyes does not exist’.)

Again in the same chapter, this gradual zoom in on the two creates tension that is then release in the next panel and summarily cements Ulquiorra as a terrifying BAMF.

In Chapter 262: Unblendable, Kubo uses the negative space to create a feeling of isolation, similar to how Orihime is supposed to be feeling.

In the same chapter, notice how Kubo creates a sense of intimacy (not in the romance sense) with the relationship of Ulquiorra and Orihime. He creates tension gradually with the zooming into Orihime’s eye and releases it with the zoom out to Ulquiorra. Through this scene, Kubo has shown us that Ulquiorra and Orihime have a tense relationship and with the implication of eye contact through the shots and panel breaks creating both the intimacy and showing Orihime’s defiance.

(Interestingly, I’ve noticed that Ulquiorra and Orihime have a lot of these intimate zoom shot-reverse-shot eye panels)

___________________

What are the Bad Parts of Bleach?

Okay, so by now, you’re probably thinking that I’m ignoring the massive amounts of critique that Bleach gets and don’t get me wrong, while Bleach does have a very special place in my heart, I’m also not maudlin enough to pretend that Bleach was all good.

Pacing:

Pacing in the First Half of Bleach (Karakura Town - Arrancar)

When Bleach first started out the pacing was excellent. Kubo showed great mastery of pace to control the tone and highlight the emotions throughout the first two arcs. Mid-way through the Arrancar arc, the fatigue sets in and it was hard to keep up with, especially since Kubo would interrupt one exciting fight set up to go set up more plot elsewhere (eg Fake Karakura town right as Ichigo and Ulquiorra were about to battle). Whilst looking back and reading it all at once does help with the pacing, it was frustrating if you were reading/watching on a weekly basis.

Pacing in the Anime:

I don’t ascribe to a simplistic belief of “fillers bad” simply because I think that sometimes fillers can be a good thing, for example, since every chapter is ~15-20pp, some character interactions have to be cut for the sake for space, so filler is a great opportunity to add those moments back into your story. For example, a lot of early Bleach fillers are just the people of Karakura town just hanging out. That being said, Bleach does have an unfortunate amount of fillers, with some of them even interrupting tense fights (eg the Beast Sword Arc interrupts Ichigo’s battle with Ulquiorra). However, the padding that the fillers provided did wonders for the transition between Soul Society to Arrancar Arc in the anime. Ultimately, the Bleach anime adaption was a long-running anime made for syndication and that’s okay.

******* Brief Aside: many people like(d?) to point out that Bleach has a very cyclical plot structure. I used to think this way too; however, this is not the case. There are many other long running stories that repeat similar goals. The problem lies not in the idea, but the execution. The main complaint about the Orihime rescue was not that it was uninteresting, but instead that it felt a rehash of the plot of the previous arc. This is largely because the story was not given enough time to breath between similar character arcs. For example, in One Piece, Luffy and Co have to save Nami and by extension, her home village so she can join them; however, the next time a Straw Hat needs to be saved is 227 chapters (2 whole story arcs) later. In between saving Rukia and Orihime, there is only a really an arrancar encounter, a bit of training, cheering up Ichigo, and a Grimmjow encounter before Orihime goes with Ulquiorra, thus making the goal of this arc “save Orihime” in only ~59 chapters vs 227. These two similar arc goals so close to each other does indeed create the sense of repetition.

Pacing from Fullbringer to End:

This is where Bleach really lost a lot of people. If you weren’t gone after the Ulquiorra fight, you probably were by this arc.This arc went at breakneck speed, and ngl, during my first full read through I almost gave up here too. I mention earlier that Ichigo had been broken down in this arc, but it was hard to feel his despair and the weight on his shoulders because there wasn’t enough for the reader to take a beat and breathe. The Thousand Year Blood War, similarly suffered from sloppy pacing, with many readers feeling like story lines of Squad 0 and the Soul King were anti-climactic. As well, this arc started with a massacre and feature the deaths of many fan-favourite characters, and unfortunately due to the pacing, their deaths were not given a sense of gravity.

Missed Opportunities and Forgotten Story lines: Many people felt that Kubo forgot about a lot of his characters after the Aizen arc. Many thought the Fullbringer Arc was going to be a Chad/Orihime Arc. Whatever happened to Uryuu lolol? We all just collectively forgot about him for a large portion of the last half of Bleach. At one point in time, there was a rumour going around that Kubo had written out the story for Bleach and lost it. Idk if there is any credibility to it. However, in a 2017 interview, Kubo did say that he did end the series exactly the way he wanted to.

(If anyone wants to see me write an entire ass text post about Orihime and her treatment in Bleach, please let me know because I will do it)

Too mature:Even though above, I praised Bleach's mature handle on its themes, an unfortunate side effect of this is forgetting that the characters are only 15 at the beginning and for the first half of Bleach. This unfortunately, leads to some readers feeling disconnected from Bleach.

Epilogue: THE DESTROYER OF SHIPS!!! A lot of people hated this ending. Many people felt like the romance was shoe-horned in, others didn’t like the pairings, and there were some people who actually liked it. Personally, I didn’t like it too much, but it was a cute conclusion nonetheless. Since it didn't add anything to the story except for a "where are they now" look and because of that, I low-key felt like it was unnecessary, but w/e.

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

Perspective

Making a long-running weekly serialized story is hard and doing it for 15 years is gruelling (obligatory “fuck capitalism” here). Like many artists of long-running manga, Kubo destroyed his health for the sake of publishing Bleach weekly. Kubo on his health after Bleach (photo from AshitanoGin on Twitter):

Given this insight, I think it’s only fair to be respectful and grateful for Kubo’s contribution to the anime-sphere. Also, through his work, Kubo seems to be a very understanding person and artist. I’m sure he knows better than anyone where Bleach went wrong, but there’s nothing that can be done now. Despite him having a twitter, he is not Joanne and doesn’t feel the need to constantly hemorrhage out word of god info about Bleach (and thank god for that).

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

Final Thoughts

It’s hard to forget my happy memories when I think about Bleach. It had my first adolescent crush and first OTP. As a result, I think the best way to enjoy Bleach is to take what you want out of it. People always think that something has to be 100% without flaw for it to be good, but that is not true at all. It is totally okay to just like the parts that you like without engaging with anything else. It’s special to you for a reason, you know? 

There’s no use in fretting over what Bleach could’ve been, besides, very rarely is the reality better than the fantasy in your head.

I do think though that a lot of Kubo’s issues could’ve been fixed if he planned the story better but not all of us can be “I've been planning One Piece since elementary school” Oda Eiichiro.

Other voices on this issue: here

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

Wow. I can’t believe you made it this far down. Congratulations! Thanks for reading my 2:30am non-sober take on Bleach (it only took me 7 hours to write). Here's a cookie <3

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolate Prince and The Lovely Maiden {Willy Wonka x Rose Bucket AU}

Chapter 2

Once Upon A Time... The Chocolate Prince

Tagging: @holdmeicant @frozenhuntress67 @pastelmoonwitche @arinnasweetslove​

A/N: Some chapters may have Disney references, some may not. If you see them, tell me what reference it is you saw 😉

If there was definitely one mysterious figure that resided in Candania, it would be the kingdom’s very own prince. Prince Willy wasn’t one to make public appearances. He wasn’t one to frequent trips to Sweetstown. He sometimes barely even left his own room. Some subjects even doubted that King Wilbur’s son even existed.

Wilbur and Willy had a very estranged relationship. Barely would they even dine together, but when they did, no word or even a glance would be shared between the King and the Prince. 

Things haven’t been the same for the royal family since the Queen’s death. Wilbur was heartbroken at the loss of his wife. It was said that she was slain by a beast, but the guards who found her were skeptical. She had been slain, for sure, but they weren’t so sure that it was a beast who had done so.

Alas, they had no proof. 

The death of the Queen was only the first cataclysm in the rocky relationship between Wilbur and Willy. Wilbur was getting older, and that meant he would soon get to a point where he could no longer carry on his duties as King. He was hoping that his son would one day take over the throne.

But with Willy, it didn’t seem that it would be very likely.

He hated the idea of ruling over the entire kingdom. Everyone looking up to him. Just all that...all that...responsibility. 

And lately, his father had been prospecting the idea of marriage to him.

Marriage.

The gall of his father to suggest such a thing. 

It was bad enough that Willy was stuck in the position of a Prince, soon-to-be King, but to be stuck as a husband that wouldn’t even love his own wife? What was even the point of marriage? Why would anyone even want to be married?

Ugh, he’d never understand it.

King Wilbur had been requesting his son’s presence. He’d received a very important letter from one of the neighbouring kingdoms. The contents within the letter had to do with his son. Daniel, the head of the guard, searched all over for the Prince.

Willy was nowhere to be found. But, there was one place that Daniel figured the Prince might be. The castle itself was rather large which meant there were many rooms. There was everything from a library to the ballroom, the kitchen and the dining hall, and many, many bedrooms.

But for every known room, there were hidden nooks and crannies. There was one in particular that Willy liked to spend his time in. It was a room hidden beneath the castle the that Prince discovered when he was a young boy. He always went to his secret room when his father was becoming too much for him.

Willy liked this room---his sanctuary, his safe haven---because it was the one room his father didn’t know about. It was where he could be himself.

Daniel stood in front of the secret door that led to the Prince’s secret room. He knocked the secret knock. The door creaked open, and Daniel took a step inside. He made sure that it was closed tight, so that no one else would discover the door.

The Prince trusted Daniel with knowing about the secret room. He in no way wanted to betray that trust. Daniel was the only friend that the Prince truly had. Willy could confide in him.

“Prince, your father is requesting your presence” Daniel called out, still searching for the Prince. “Something about a letter”

���I’m sure whatever it is, my father can deal with it” Daniel jumped when Willy spoke from directly behind him. The Prince had a knack for sneaking up behind people. Willy held up a wooden spoon. A brown, creamy liquid was dripping from it. “Could you taste this for me?”

Daniel partook in Willy’s request and ate from the spoon. An exquisite taste met the taste buds on his tongue. “Your highness,” Daniel saw the way Willy looked at him, and corrected himself. The Prince was not a fan of the formal title. “Willy, this is marvelous”

Willy grinned, satisfied. “Thank you! That means I’ve finally found the right recipe”

Prince Willy had a secret passion for chocolate making. But if his father ever found out, he’d be furious. Willy often made secret visits down to Sweetstown to drop off a new batch of chocolate and candy to the town’s candy store.

Of course, no one knew he was the Prince whenever he went, because no one knows what the Prince actually looks like.

“Now, back to the matter at hand” Daniel said, getting back into business. Willy just rolled his eyes and went back over to his big pot of chocolate. “A letter has arrived today and your father wants to discuss the contents with you!”

“What could be so important about some stupid letter?” 

“Well, it pertains to you... and that situation” Daniel alluded, knowing Willy wouldn’t want to hear the actual word.

Willy’s jaw clenched. “Fine. I’ll be up shortly, but I’m not saying a word! He can do all the talking, and I’ll just listen. Barely”

Wilbur was pacing back and forth, reading the letter, while waiting for his son.The letter contained a written agreement for a marriage between his son, and the Princess of Champonia, Lady Scarlett Beauregarde. Wilbur wish he didn’t have to do this, but his son was leaving him no choice.

Willy had to get married before he’s crowned king and if he’s not going to pick a wife for himself, then Wilbur had to pick a wife for him.

If only Princess Briar was still alive. If only the kingdom of Blossom was still standing. 

Blossom and Candania both stood together as the two biggest kingdoms in all of the realms. King Wilbur and his wife were close to the King and Queen of Blossom, Florian and Marigold.

Willy was only ten when Princess Briar was born, but the two of them had been betrothed from that very moment. They were set to be wed on Briar’s eighteenth birthday. Willy couldn’t understand why he was engaged to a baby.

But, unfortunately, Briar wouldn’t even live to see a first birthday. Blossom was under attack by an unknown assailant. By the time help had arrived, the kingdom was nothing but smoke and ash. Strangely enough, no bodies were found. Not even Florian, Marigold, and Briar’s. But even if they did survive, they couldn’t be found anywhere. 

It was safer to presume they had been killed and their bodies had been taken. 

Now, thirty years later, a new wife has been chosen for the Prince. Princess Scarlett was apparently a high maintenance woman. She only wanted the best of the best and got everything she wanted. Apparently, she was also very arrogant. Thought she was better than everyone else because of her place in society.

Ideally, it wouldn’t have been Wilbur’s first choice for a bride for his son, but he was getting older. His son needed a wife, and she was the first to reply to the King’s request.

“What is it, father?” Wilbur turned around to see his son. Willy stood there, his jaw tight and his fists clenched by his sides. He just wanted to hear what his father had to say and leave. 

“Willy,” Wilbur started. The letter crinkled in his hand. “I have received this letter from the kingdom of Champonia. I have found you a wife. Her name is Scarlett and--”

Willy cut Wilbur off. “She is not going to be my wife! How many times do I have to say it? I’m never getting married!”

Wilbur seethed. “You will if you are going to be King someday”

“But I don’t want to!”

“You don’t get a choice on the matter!” Wilbur yelled so loud, his voice almost echoed throughout the entire castle. “I have spoken, son. Princess Scarlett will be coming in three weeks time. We will be hosting an engagement ball, then we will start planning the wedding”

And without another word, Wilbur turned on his heel and walked away. 

Willy was left standing in his spot, both angry and saddened by the news of his engagement. What had he done wrong in his life to be forced into marrying into a loveless marriage?

His father would say he loved him, but Willy doubted he did. If he did, he wouldn’t be forcing him into marriage. He doubted that his father even loved his own mother. 

There was no such thing as love.

Love was a fable. A fraud.

“I just don’t understand, Daniel” Willy vented to his closest friend. The both of them were out on the track, riding horses. It was an activity Willy did frequently to help clear his mind. Especially when it came to matters concerning his father. “I don’t understand why he can’t understand. This isn’t the life I want”

“I know this may not be what you want to hear, Prince” Daniel spoke. He was already regretting what he was about to say, knowing Willy would argue the idea. “But he just wants what’s best for you, because he lo--”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Willy hissed, baring his perfect teeth. “Love!” He scoffed. “There is no such thing”

Daniel shifted on top of his horse. “Well, I wouldn’t say that...” He thought of the girl who worked in the bakery in Sweetstown. She was the reason he made frequent visits to the town. “There’s this girl. She’s the baker’s daughter. Boy, is she ever lovely”

Willy fell quiet. This whole topic had reminded him of dreams he was having. It was dreams of a girl he has never met before. Daniel noticed the Prince’s silence. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes” Willy nodded. “I’ve just been having... odd dreams lately”

“Odd?” Daniel tilted his head. “In what way?”

“They’re of this girl. I’ve never met here before but the dreams are incredibly vivid” Willy explained. Sure, he found the dreams strange, but he also found the girl’s presence in them comforting. “She has long blonde hair, and even though her face isn’t always clear, I can make out brown eyes”

“Is she pretty?”

Willy gave Daniel an incredulous look. “I hardly think it matters. She’s not real anyways”

“Why do you think your brain would conjure up an image of this woman?” Daniel was sure asking a lot of questions today. “Maybe you’re dreaming her up because deep down, just maybe, you do want to love someone, and you want someone to love you back”

Willy cringed. “Ew”

Daniel just rolled his eyes. He knew the Prince’s opinion on love and romance would never change.

But he hoped that this girl that Willy dreamed up is real and is somewhere out there. That maybe she could change Willy’s mind.

Maybe then the Prince wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.

But, as fate would have it, Prince Willy would find himself escaping to the Grand Forest on the fateful day. And he would see her. Under the pretty pink leaves. Picking the fresh red cherries.

The girl he thought wasn’t real.

The girl from his dreams.

The one who would cure his loneliness.

The one who would make him believe in love.

[dawn-aethwyn]

Healing

Dawn did as she was bid, the same as so many times before. How many times was it this week and the last that he had her draw aether from this meditation stone? Regardless, she was happy to oblige. She felt more invigorated, more lively- more whole as she did so. Whatever regimen he had working for her rehabilitation, it was working.

“... Alright…” a dry voice sounded. “Keep at it. Remember, don’t stop until you can’t draw any further, then keep going anyway. When you feel you can’t go any further, put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.”

A cacophony of thoughts rang in her head as she desperately tried to sort through them. Every time she drew from this stone she felt flooded with emotions she was a stranger to. In addition to that, she had wondered long and hard where Hadriel had obtained this ‘meditation’ stone. There’s no way a random stone was full of aether but at the same time, it felt as if her very own life essence was being restored. She wasn’t going to complain about that. But then… if this was a product of her rehabilitation, is it because he knew about her condition?

“You’re distracted.” his gruff judgement sounded. “Focus, stop thinking about irrelevant things and draw.”

She intensified her efforts but her mind couldn’t help but wander. Her interaction with Halia the night before was proof enough that she felt a change in her veins. She was always wanting to help others yet slowly she felt that interest wane as she was overcome by more selfish and base desires. Why shouldn’t she look out for herself? Why shouldn’t she focus on what’s right for her? Who cares what others feel? Everything she had experienced since her injury only lent credence to that thought. She shook her head violently.

“I told you to pay attention. Keep drawing aether.” he chided.

The focused beam that spilt from the soul crystal stopped as she spun her head in Hadriel’s direction. “Why?” she asked. She knew the pretense he was here under- to help her. Yet he had her drawing essence to restore her own, he must’ve known there was an aetherial deficit. He must have known of her condition, yet he didn’t speak on it. This wasn’t to restore her sight, that was for certain, so he must have had an ulterior motive. 

“Because Mira asked me to help you. There is nothing more to it. Now you’re wasting time, continue to dr-”

“No. There has to be more to it. No one does things for others selflessly. There’s no true altruism in this world. Only people who are waiting to take advantage of others.”

He chuckled a bit, “Ah, there it is. I was wondering when you would start being affected. Is the bitterness setting in? The anger? The doubt? Good. It only means you’re taking more and more of the aether into yourself.”

Her face flushed. She couldn’t see him but she could hear his laughter which infuriated her further. “What do you mean?! You were expecting me to get affected?!”

“What did you have left? Maybe a few months to live? Soul crystals host a fountain of aether from the people who left an imprint on it, small fragments of their souls absorbed over time. I’m letting you borrow more time from that since you were irresponsible and treated your own life and aether with wanton disregard.”

“...It won’t be enough.” 

She could hear him undo the top of his flask before he drank. Of course he was drinking. She heard a scoff.

“No, definitely not. Being able to convert your own life force to aether is a gift very few people have, and now that you’ve drained every bit of that gift that you possibly could, it’s time to find a new solution. If you’re able to convert aether one way, then you should be able to do the opposite. Convert it into your own life force. Frankly, I’ve never come across anyone like you so I don’t know the right answer, but right now, this is the only answer I have. Once you’ve learned to draw aether proficiently enough from living things around you, you should be able to survive. Not only that, you should be able to thrive. Sight would be restored to you through perception of aether, and the cost for that should no longer matter.”

“G-get out.” she seethed furiously. “I’m not a toy for you to watch writhe about.”

“I think you need a break.” he grabbed the soul crystal off her desk and hung it around his neck, tucking the pendant into his vest. “You’re doing fine. Trust me. Maybe later you can try again when you calm down ...I’ll be seeing you.”

Her erratic breath seemed to calm a bit after he left. What was she angry about again? She shook her head as her grip along the desk loosened. “W-what?” she whispered to herself. She wanted to be mad at him, at something, at anything. She breathed in sharply in an attempt to gather herself. A shaky breath escaped her lips. “I’m okay… I’m okay…” she uttered to herself as she had done a hundred times before.

Her hand expanded before her as she focused her aether again, using a practiced hand to bring forth White Magicka. A flare of abyssal energies flashed in her palm instead.

 “...I’m okay.”

The door had shut and opened once more as someone walked into the clinic, “Ah, I’m looking for a Mizuna --” It certainly wasn’t Dawn’s male guest from earlier.

Dawn shut her fist and extinguished the abyssal flame that lingered in her grasp. She moved to place a rounded pair of sunglasses on to cover her unfocused gaze. “Oh? Mizuna is not here, perhaps I can be of some help?”

“I see, she’s the one that stitched me up some couple of weeks ago. The stitches are -- well I’m about to cut them out myself if someone doesn’t remove the damn things from my arm.” she watched the woman -- clinics just weren’t her thing. Nijah lifted a hand through her bangs, “She also mentioned something about a checkup but I suppose I could just schedule something while I’m here?”

The White Mage shook her head, “I’ll help you remove the stitches, as for the checkup; she can do that on her own time. Please...” she gestured toward one of the rooms and shifted over to slide the curtains aside, “...Take a seat on the table.”

The Ala Mhigan woman nodded, not that she knew Dawn couldn’t see, she hadn’t met the woman in her life. Doing as she was bid, Nijah took a seat along the table as instructed and removed her glove.

Dawn had reached for some tools and vials about the room, all while feeling for stickers along them with little raised dots. She grabbed a towel and placed it on the tray before setting it beside the patient. “Which arm was it again?”

“...Right.” Nijah furrowed a brow and held out her arm to the woman, “Didn’t count how many she actually shoved in there.”

Dawn meandered a couple feet away to the sink, washing her hands. “May I touch you?” she asked as she approached again, her head tilted.

“Well yeah, you’re kinda gonna have to.” she huffed and shoved her arm in the woman’s direction, each stitch itching for freedom and she was trying her best not to scratch.

The medical professional gave a smile, if it wasn’t clear before, it was made clear now that she couldn’t see as she felt for Nijah, finding her arm and running her hands along her skin. She felt the stitches along her forearm. “Ah, there they are, please keep your arm out.” she moved to pour one of the vials onto one of the hand-towels she had prepared. Dawn dabbed the towel along Nijah’s stitching, “Feels like it was a deep laceration… about five ilms long? About twenty stitches? I would’ve gone with more just to be safe… but it seems like you’ve healed fine. Let me clean the area right quick.” The cloth smelled strongly of alcohol.

Nijah could only stare as the woman who felt her way around was tending to her arm. She had to have been crazy to stay any longer and possibly let a blind woman come at her with the Gods know what, “You work here?” she asked. It was better than sitting in awkward silence as the Doctor went about her work, “Never seen you before.”

A sly smile wore about her features as she continued to press the cloth into Nijah’s patched laceration. “And I’ve never seen you before either. Nice to meet you.” She responded before tossing the towel into a bin, “My name is Dawn, and I was hired here to be the staff physician.” her hands ran delicately to identify where the plastic stitches were again before she grabbed a pair of suture scissors in one hand, keeping the other along the injury. “I don’t feel any inflammation and the wound seems to have closed so I will be removing the stitches. They might hurt as I cut and pull them out though.”

“Nijah.” she responded kindly enough and she knit her brow to watch as Dawn continued, “Mizuna was the one that was seen to me and thankfully I have enough know-how when it comes to cleaning wounds to make sure my limbs don’t fall off.”

Dawn gave a light, awkward giggle, “Well, you won’t have to worry about that. I’ll clean your wound again after we remove the stitches.” The woman moved quickly and methodically to feel at the stitches and adjusted the scissors along each before snipping away and pulling them out carefully. She listened and felt for Nijah’s reaction between each removal before she placed every suture onto the tray next to them. Each went without a fuss. She figured Nijah must have been good at not reacting to sharp pangs of pain.

“You’re confident in your work at least, most wouldn’t even attempt to try and do what you’re doing.”

“Oh? I suppose. I wouldn’t imagine many people would try to remove your stitches if they weren’t trained to do so. At least, I hope they wouldn’t.” Dawn spoke as she snipped and removed the last few sutures.

“I used to before I had access to a medic all the time, like this. Growing up in Ul’dah we sort of just made due with what we had.”

“Well, I would have to advise against you doing that anymore and ask that you come to me from now on.” she gave a polite smile in Nijah’s direction. It was a bit off from where she should have turned her head but in the right area nevertheless. “Though it’s already a good enough sign that you will since you came here in the first place. There.” She removed the last suture and placed it on the tray. She grabbed another hand-towel she had prepared and popped another vial. “This might hurt too.” After pouring the liquid onto the cloth she pressed firmly along the laceration and removed stitches, digging her fingers into where Nijah had been cut. “It’s an antibiotic. Since I just removed your sutures they’re practically open wounds. Best to be safe. Sorry if it hurts.”

Nijah did cringe a moment and sucked in a breath, watching the Doctor go about her business but it was all part of the process, right? At least she had got to the lengths Mizuna had not, “Thanks.” she huffed out, “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“You know… your voice sounds very familiar.” she commented, squeezing even harder onto the wound as she moved the cloth along it, bit by bit.

“Familiar? I’ve been here for a long time.”

“Hmn.” she sounded, nails digging along the cloth to reach deeper into the wound. A few of the holes left from the stitching left a crimson stain along the towel.

“Longer than most.” she finished and her free hand took hold of Dawn’s wrist at her other arm, “I think ...it's clean now, Doc.” she hissed out ever so lightly at the sting at her flesh.

The pleasant smile wore on her features as she looked toward Nijah. The patient’s features lit up a bright blue outline along her flesh. She was seeing her through traces of aether. It came to her as if it were second nature, as if she had used this approach for years. In a blink the darkness returned and the blue hues dissipated. Dawn maintained a painful grip, “I told you it will hurt, if we don’t get the antibiotics deep into the open punctures from the stitching, it might cause an infection. Trust me, a little pain now will save a lot of stress later. Unless you’re not partial to this limb; then I can skip this.”

Of course Nijah was no medical expert but she was perceptive enough to know that the point of fixing wounds was to mend them, not reopen them. She held firm to the woman’s wrist and attempted to pry her hand away while shifting from the table, “I think it’s good, albeit bleeding again but. We’re good Doc.”

The White Mage laughed lightly after her hand was pried off of the wound. “Better safe than sorry, I say. I don’t want you to get an infection.” Her stance adjusted to face Nijah as she moved off the table. Dawn reached for the tray and felt at a couple of the vials that had not been used, “Here. These are antibiotics. You probably won’t need them but it’s better to take them and not need them, then need them and not have them.”

Nijah had taken the offered vials giving the woman an odd look, “Right.” pursing her lips, she gazed over the given vials, “Thanks… Doc.”

Dawn simply offered a polite grin and parroted the words that kept ringing in her head, “Good luck.”

[nautiscarader]

Wendip Week 7 - telling the truth

I was unable to come up with a story directly about not being able to lie, so I decided to put a spin on it.

(Ao3)

===

As the thunder rolled through the dark, gloomy skies outside the cozy wooden house, the young woman standing by the windows felt the weather couldn't have been more appropriate for the situation. She turned around and began walking back and forth past the living room, where four other people have gathered, each of them following her with intense stares.

Knowing she cannot delay this any longer, Mabel grunted and addressed her brother and his family.

- So, you are wondering why I have gathered you all there... - Not really - Dipper's son interrupted her - You asked us to sit here so you can do your detective spiel. - Was that from a movie, or something? - Emma continued - Didn't you guys have a cartoon where you were younger, or- - DUCK-TECTIVE WAS NOT A CARTOON!

The girl shrieked when Mabel slammed her fist against the wooden coffee table, her eyes filled with anger.

- IT WAS A MASTERPIECE OF STORYTELLING AND ANIMATION, AND IT IS A SHAME IT WAS CANCELLED AFTER ONLY NINE SEASONS!

Seeing the sheer terror in both Emma and Tyrone's eyes, as well as a bit of it in Dipper's and Wendy's, Mabel leaned back, fixed her coat, and resumed her act in much more subdued tone.

- So, as I was about to answer, I gathered you all here because I'm afraid that there is a force out there, ready to destroy your family. Our... family... - she spoke under her breath, looking ominously into the raging storm outside - I am talking of course...

She turned towards the four and eyed them with icy-cold, piercing gaze.

- ...about distrust! The one thing that can break even the toughest of bonds between the loved ones. Husband and wife, mother and daughter, brother and sister...

Mabel pointed to each of the members of Pines family, disregarding Dipper's and Wendy's confused stares that appeared on their faces when Mabel jumped onto the table.

- Tonight I have been contacted by a daughter of yours, who would like to remain anonymous...

The three other members of Pines family all turned towards Emma, eyeing her with accusatory looks.

- ...regarding a case of missing cookies!

Mabel dramatically revealed an empty jar she has been holding underneath her oversized, brown coat. Wendy, Dipper and Tyrone let out a collective groan.

- Okay, in my defence, I didn't know what she was gonna do - Emma quickly explained herself. - Mabel, do you really think it's necessary? - Dipper asked his sister - Yes, brother. - she turned sharply towards him - In fact, your reluctance suggests I should start with you...

She grabbed a flash-light and shone its beam directly into Dipper's eyes, making him cower and cover his eyes.

- Mabel! - Admit it, brother! - she leaned against him - It was you! everyone knows you have a sweet tooth! You can ask me! I can ask me! I have whole life of evidence against you...

She turned towards Wendy, whose lips curled into a smirk.

- Yeah, she's got a point there. - Come on! You know I'm trying to control my weight ever since we stopped running away from monsters on a weekly basis. - Dipper grumbled back - Besides, what kind of parent would I be, if I didn't follow the same rules that we set for our kids? - Interesting... - Mabel pondered for a while. - Then the next in line is... Wendy!

Mabel jumped in place once more, pointing at her sister-in-law with vindictive glare.

- How could you betray our trust? I had you for a friend all these years... - she spoke dramatically, her voice quivering with pretence emotions. - Mabel, you do know I don't like sweets that much. And I especially wouldn't eat a whole jar of them. - she rolled her eyes. - Again, bad role model for the kids. - The kids!

Mabel turned her attention to the two youngsters sitting next to each other.

- After your father, you are the most suspicious ones here... After all, all kids like their sweets... - Wow, we are honoured to be interrogated by the most brilliant of minds here. - Dipper rolled his eyes. - Hey, not your turn. - Mabel barked back - I'm gonna come back to you.

She pointed her beam at the red-haired boy.

- Tyrone, we all know you stay up late, don't you? Those late night gaming or study sessions make you hungry, don't they? - Well... sometimes... - Ah-ha! And here we have, an irrefutable proof that it was you, Tyrone, who ate the chocolate chip cookies! - Except we don't. - Emma added quickly.

At once, Mabel looked down at his sister, who interrupted her speech.

- We don't. He doesn't like chocolate chip cookies. He prefers hazelnut. - Is that true? - Yeah. I-I thought you knew. - the red-headed boy shied away.

Mabel scratched her chin, contemplating her next move.

- Hm. Now that I think about it, there is one more potentially guilty person in the room... - Mabel turned around, only to spin back and point at Emma - It was you! - Me? - Emma flinched - I was the one, who complained about lack of cookies! - Precisely! - Mabel spoke triumphantly - By drawing attention to it, you thought you could absolve yourself from any suspicions. You thought you could fool your own aunt, young lady, but alas! Your plan has been foiled... - Yeah, it has. Cos I wasn't even there.

Once again, Mabel has been thrown off balance by her suspect and looked at the cross-armed young girl.

- I've spent the whole day with you and aunt Pacifica! - she roared - We came late, I went to the kitchen and that's when I found out someone ate all the cookies. That was less than hour ago! - Well... looks like we have an impasse...

With a half-defeated expression on her face, Mabel turned around and began circling the family. And though her antics were over-the-top, every person in the room followed her, and listened to her words, as she clearly had an ace in the sleeve of her sweater.

- One of you have committed a heinous crime, yet no one of you would admit it... And this is why I brought this!

With a sudden turn, Mabel slammed something onto the coffee table, and only when she uncovered a box-like object, covered in vertical and horizontal labyrinthine-like patterns that began glowing as soon as light began shining on it. And while the kids were surprised and naturally gravitated towards it, Wendy and Dipper were utterly shocked.

- What the heck, Mabel? - Mabel! Where did you get it? - Oh, last time I was in California I might have visited a certain family that had magical connections... - Mabel smiled - And honestly, Star didn't really need this anymore, I mean last time they interrogated someone with it, and that was it... - Mabel, this is too much - Dipper interrupted her - This is Truth-Telling Box, I'm not gonna let you use it, especially with kids! This thing nearly destroyed those, who used it, because Star was too afraid to admit she has a crush on Marco! And honestly, I think you are making a mountain out of molehill. - Okay, enough!

Suddenly, Wendy's usually calm voice interrupts the quarrel that was about to engulf the twins. Mabel and Dipper looked at her, and after a while of uneasiness, Wendy spoke out, in a slightly quieter voice.

- Alright, I admit, it was me. - Whaaaat? - Emma and Tyrone exclaimed - You ate all the cookies? - But you said it yourself you don't like sweets that much. - Yeah... I usually don't...

Wendy looked away for a moment, and the rest watched as her cheeks turn crimson almost matching her auburn hair, while her lips curl into a soft smile.

- But you didn't notice the pickled jalapeños were missing as well.

She looked at Dipper, and as she spoke, his eyes grow wide and he dashed towards her, embracing her with a tight, long hug.

- Why didn't you tell me sooner? - he asked with a tears in his eyes - I wanted to be a surprise, especially for kids, you dork.

When he let her go, Mabel joined them with an even more expressive and tear-filled hug, leaving the two kids utterly dumbfounded.

- Uh, can anyone explain us what is going on? - Emma exclaimed - And why jalapeños are important all of a sudden?

The three adult chuckled, and Wendy reached to embrace her two kids, giving each of them a soothing kiss.

- You see, it's a bit of an old wives' tale, but it is sometimes true. If a woman has sudden taste swings, it's a sign she might be pregnant...

Only now, the siblings exchanged stunned looks and swarmed their mother, exchanging cries of joy. The two spoke over each other, asking if their mother knew if it was a boy or a girl, and already coming up with names, while Wendy tried to calm them down.

- Alright, alright, kids, it's still a long time until we get a new Pine in our tree. - she chuckled - Why don't we start planning on the details tomorrow, huh?

She turned towards Mabel and Dipper, watching her with the kids still by her side.

- And yeah, sorry for not telling you.   - That's alright, that kind of surprises are the sweetest.

Dipper reached and kissed his wife, a gesture that for once did not result with their children sounding like they were about to puke. Dipper broke off the kiss and waved at Mabel, so she could join the enormous Pine hug-pile, and she eagerly jumped into the mix, enjoying the warmth and comfort of her extended family. At least until Dipper spoke out.

- Seriously, though, Mabel, what the heck was with bringing a MAGIC ARTIFACT to find missing cookies? - Oh, relax, don;t act like you haven't done something equally weird. - THAT IS TRUTH - spoke the Truth-Telling Box.

[mintdrop]

Mint is ADORABLE! How did she and Estinien get together? :)

aejisfiusdfsdidgj thank you!!!!! ;_;

i actually have this saved from an old ask that i got back when mint was a new character and i was new to wol/npc shipping! i’ll put it under a readmore because it’s super long

mint/estinien kind of started off as a continuation ship I had of my old character Amira (a purple bookwormy lalafell SCH) but it has turned into it’s own thing and it’s like 40% cuter imo.

since I’ve only ever actively played one character, WoL!Mint has all the memories of her adventures from from 2.x to now, ignoring all the fantasias I’ve gone through. She started off just absolutely despising him during the final 2.x dragoon quests and, going into Heavensward, refused to trust him. Refused to acknowledge him unless absolutely forced to, would usually reply in one or two words at best, and occasionally she’d catch herself thinking “but what if.. I “missed” a heal on him during this fight….” but in the end would rather physically remove all of her teeth by hand than sabotage a battle and sacrifice someone’s safety for her petty high-school-level drama. after all, even if she didn’t trust him, the others clearly did.

she only started to trust him, and inevitably start falling for him, after the incident at the Vault. she went mute for a length of time, didn’t give any input to anything and accepted all requests/orders without so much as a nod of her head; she’d just go, do it, show back up with some kind of proof of whatever was required and leave again. everyone tried to get her to go back to how she was before, or at least get her to speak again, but it was like reasoning with a brick wall to move.

at one point, Alphinaud needed Mint to scout the area surrounding the Gubal Library, but he couldn’t find her. she wasn’t in her inn room in Idyllshire, and there were no sightings of her around the Hinterlands; he contacted Aymeric through a linkshell, but none of the guards at any of the gates had so much as seen a glance at her. worried for his friend’s safety more than anything, he enlisted Estinien’s help in finding her, simply because he could cover more ground than most others. estinien already had a fairly good idea of where she was, though, and his hunch wasn’t wrong; she was, once again, at Haurchefant’s grave.

it had been lightly dusting snow at the time, but Mint was covered in what looked like several hours worth from simply sitting there, unmoving. frustrated with it all, Estinien stomped over and picked her up by the fuzzy collar of her top, lifting her to eye level with his visor. “You are needed, Totomi.” she gave a blink of acknowledgement and a small nod, expecting to be put down and given a location. instead the visor on estinien’s mask rose and he was glaring daggers. “You misunderstand. You are needed. Not this fragment of despair that is here right now.”

I used to have this whole scenario written out but it looks like it got lost when I moved computers. Basically he shook her to her senses (both mentally and physically, just wiggling his hand to try and get her to wake up) and it ended with Mint turning into this miserable faucet of tears and hiccups as she babbled out what you’d expect; how he shouldn’t have been the one who die for her poor judgement, that she was a bloody fool and wasn’t worthy of being the warrior of light, etc. Despite being incredibly blunt and calling her a dumbass, Estinien managed to calm her down and make her realize that it wasn’t her fault, and that if time were to rewind and Haurchefant was told what was going to happen, he’d still take the spear for her.

Heavensward goes on as is until the peace trial between Ishgard and Vidofnir, which results in Mint getting fucking pissed and swears to bring Estinien back or kill him to free him of Nidhogg’s possession, because she’s learned that he would prefer to die than let Nidhogg use his body to ruin Ishgard and get revenge. Luckily, it doesn’t come to that thanks to Ysayle and Haurchefant. Mint refuses to leave Estinien’s room after he’s brought to the chirurgin, going so far as to veil a threat or two under a very cheerful demeanor if she’s forced to leave. When he wakes up and notices her, the first thing he gets is a slap to the face followed by copious amounts of swears that would make a Limsan sailor gasp.

After a full recovery, unless the situation calls for either of them to do something, you’d always be able to find Mint basically glued to Estinien’s hip, although he would refer to her as a thorn in his side, “but not one that really needs to be removed.” The story progresses into Stormblood and Mint considers confessing, until the war between Garlemald and Ala Mhigo begins and she realizes “hey, maybe I’ll wait until after this is said and done.” That time doesn’t come, though, due to Zenos being Zenos and the threats from Garlemald still looming in their faces. Nothing really happens during Stormblood because of how busy Mint ends up being.

while it isn’t canon to the opening of shadowbringers, in this ship, Estinien was at the ravine with Biggs/Wedge/Tataru/Mint while they were investigating, and despite his attempt, isn’t able to stop Mint from being pulled to the First. After convincing both Tataru and himself that she’ll be fine because she’s Mint, he goes and fulfills his investigation into the black rose for the scions, using his end of the bargain as an excuse to keep himself busy.

When he returns to inform Tataru of what happened and that he’s done, he’s met by a bombshell of a Lalafell running at him at full speed, launching herself into a hug whether he likes it or not. Even though it was only a few days? weeks? maybe like a month idk the timeline too well to him, it felt like much, much longer to Mint because of how the time passes between worlds, and she once again ends up as a babbling mess. Krile and Tataru give them a few minutes alone because they feel like Mint probably doesn’t want to be seen like this, and she takes the time to confess before he can even open his mouth to welcome her back, “because I didn’t know how long I’d be gone and I missed you and I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to come back and”

after that is some REALLY GUSHY stuff that makes me grin just thinking about because it makes my heart fluffy. Mint now spends all of her time on the Source with Estinien because she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get to make up for the time it felt like she was gone for. Her usual spot is on his shoulder, kind of carried like a sack of potatoes “because it’s comfy.”

[toloveawarlord]

Chaotic Kingsley (Ch. 1)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Characters: Atticus Kingsley and Annalise Perry.

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​ for her King’s little boy

A/N: I’m back with another Ikerev kiddo! This is the final red army baby! His sister Lyra will appear in this story a little bit, but it’s mostly about him. Annalise is his nanny and will be getting her own story with Kyle soon!

The headmaster of the school tapped his fingers against the wooden desk in an annoyed, rhythmic manner. Across from him, sat a young boy with fiery red hair and a grin slathered across his pale face. “Do you understand why you are here, Atticus Kingsley?” 

“Not in the slightest. I don’t recall any misbehavior on my part,” the boy answered with feigned innocence. No one could prove that he had orchestrated the disaster. He sat up straight, never breaking eye contact with the displeased man before him.

An irritated sigh left the headmaster’s lips. “You’re denying putting the corrupted magic crystal into the pot of soup, causing it to explode and cover the kitchen, cafeteria and many students in boiling soup?” His brow twitched, unnerved by the unaffected boy.

Blue eyes pulled wide in shock, mouth dramatically dropping open. “That’s what happened? No wonder you’re upset, headmaster!” Atticus kept the smirk pushed down, proud of himself for not getting caught.

A short rap at the door and the secretary opened the creaky door. “Ms. Perry is here as requested, sir.”

Heels tapped against the floor, causing the young boy to sink down into his chair. “I apologize it took me a little longer to arrive.” The lady brushed a lock of her silver hair behind her ear. In a graceful movement, she took the empty chair and crossed her legs.

“No, I appreciate you coming in during the middle of your day, Ms. Perry. The issue at hand is an incident in the cafeteria. It’s my belief that Atticus was the one who set it into motion.” The headmaster cast a glare at him, rage building from the innocent expression on his features. He gave another explanation of the explosion in the cafeteria.

“Annalise, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such accusations. I’ll admit that I’ve gotten out of hand on the playground a time or two, but I would never do something as crass as causing harm to the staff and other students,” Atticus spoke honeyed words, turning his body to face his nanny.

Neither broke their stare, waiting to see how the other reacted. Annalise gave a short nod before giving a reassuring smile to the headmaster. “I’ll apologize on his behalf if there is any proof of these accusations.” She had to protect the Kingsley name with this ruffian child.

“Proof?”

She held back the laugh that threatened to break the tension in the room. Instead, she placed her folded hands on the top of her knees. “Yes, I cannot condone this kind of behavior from any child, but unless there is proof of Atticus’s involvement, it wouldn’t be fair to punish him.” Her voice never wavered, light but firm.

Atticus wanted to revel in the surprised expression scrawled over the headmaster’s wrinkly features. He could be patient and do so in private. “Annalise, I’m extremely hurt that this is being turned on me,” he voiced the concern with lips pulled down in a soft frown. 

“This is his doing. Atticus has always pulled stunts like this, and I can assure you that these accusations do not come lightly.” The headmaster had begun to grasp at straws, not receiving the reaction he thought the nanny would give to him.

If only it were that easy to sway the young lady. “It’s saddening news that some student would wish to cause such a scene but accusing Atticus without any shred of evidence other than your disdain for him is not a good look for this school.” Annalise delivered the blow to the school’s reputation as swiftly and gracefully as her employer wielded a sword.

“Excuse me?”

Emerald green eyes swept up to meet the shocked ones before her, not backing down from the stance she had taken. “The Kingsley family is one of the most respected families in all of Cradle. I’d implore you to carefully consider a situation before bringing blame upon the King of Hearts son with no proof to correspond.”

Atticus jumped up from his chair when Annalise stood. He hugged her arm tightly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “Can we go home now?”

“Yes, let’s go.” Annalise turned away from the stunned headmaster, intent on leaving the building with this conversation finished. She only got three steps before the man at the desk cleared his throat.

His voice rang out through the office. “I am suspending Atticus from school for the remainder of the week, three days.”

Atticus reigned in his excitement. No school for three full days? He should have acted dejected, but his face refused to drop the grin. He, instead, buried his face against her back.

“If that is the decision you have made on your administrative authority, I would begin packing my things.” Annalise cast a charming smile back at him, silver locks brushing against her neck. “I’ll inform King Lancelot of the decision.”

The pair left the office, despite the headmaster calling after them. The secretary had made herself scarce. The school would incur a change of staff after the rushed decision had been made. Reprimanding Atticus for his wrongdoings was one thing, suspending him without proof was entirely new.

A carriage awaited the by the front gates, swiftly carrying them back toward Red Territory. “Alright, spill. Did you do it?” Annalise asked, sitting more relaxed than in the office. Acting a certain way in front of the public had been expected of her since beginning her work with the Kingsley family. Her actions could reflect badly on the family should she act rashly.

But, in private, she could be much more relaxed.

A wicked grin spread across his lips, sparks of amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “I wish, but alas, twas not I who did the deed.” He fell back against the carriage seat, finding the bug crawling across the ceiling most entertaining to watch.

“Atticus.”

“Annalise.” 

The boy could test most everyone around him, already quite aware of where his status lay as the son of the King of Hearts. He’d caused many a nanny to quit within no more than a day. Their mental state unable to handle the mischievous six-year-old.

“You’ve three seconds to give me the truth or I’ll have you in the kitchen washing dishes at headquarters morning, noon, and night for your three days of suspension.”

The twitch of his body at that prospect led her to continue.

“In between those times, you’ll spend every other moment attending to the laundry and cleaning every inch of the floors-” Annalise raised her eyebrows, impressed at how long the boy continued to hold his tongue this time. She gave an animated sight. “That’ll leave no time to spare for any swordplay lessons.”

That hit the proper nerve.

Many a nanny had tried to reign in the young Kingsley and get the truth, and all had failed miserably. Atticus had successfully run off his previous twelve caretakers with mischievous tricks and tactics. None had the effect that this young twenty-two-year-old did.

His heels kicked against the bench seat as he swung his legs. Ocean blue eyes sweeping around the small carriage without any point of interest. “Oh alright. I may have given the idea to a few classmates during recess.”

“May have? You’re not succeeding in convincing me.” In the year and half that she had worked for the Kingsley family, Annalise had devoted herself to understanding him instead of controlling him, but that hardly meant that she would let him get away with wrongdoings.

Atticus gave a huge, dramatic sigh to stall for time. He resigned to her stern gaze and spilled into the tale of how the catastrophe occurred. “I told some classmates about how one could corrupt a small crystal to cause a harmless explosion. There was a tiny joke about putting it in the soup but not from me. They ran off with it. I had little involvement.”

The truth, finally.

His tone of annoyance told her that he wished that he had been a part of it. Causing chaos is his domain and being left as only the informant made him upset. At the very least, he could be cleared as the culprit.

“Do you believe me?” Atticus turned his head toward the window of the carriage but peeked at her from his peripheral vision. Many nannies missed the longing for approval. They were much too busy attempting to reign him in.

“Yes,” Annalise answered with a warm smile. The boy had been hard to read at first, but she’d learned quick to pick up on his speech. “And I’ll rescind those punishments, but you will have to tell your father about your expulsion.” Emerald eyes narrowed at the sudden question that came to her. “Atticus, where did you procure this information about corrupting crystals?”

Not a moment of hesitation before throwing the man into the fire. “Kyle lent me a book.”

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the army headquarters. A once daunting building now like a second home to her. She fully intended to make Atticus spill the news of what had happened, but she wouldn’t send him alone. There was a lot information that only she could relay.

Atticus came to a full stop in front of the closed office doors. He exuded confidence and rarely cared what anyone around him said, except with his father. “Do I have to?” His voice so timid that it hardly sounded as if it belonged to him.

Rapping against the door with her knuckles, Annalise ran her fingers through his ginger hair reassuringly. “You can do it. Tell him what you told me.” A reprimanding much less severe than most days would be in store for him.

Lancelot called from within. None of the other officers were present, and a stack of paperwork laid out on the desk. He placed his pen down, no shock on his features at the early arrival of his son. He never cast a glance at the woman, matching blue eyes locked only on Atticus.

Annalise gave him a little push forward into the room, closing the door as the boy shuffled forward with his head down. The poor thing. It wasn’t fear of punishment, but of disappointment. The clock had barely passed noon, only halfway through the normal school day.

“I...” Atticus swallowed down the lump in his throat as he shuffled forward. His head lifted slowly, finding the courage to look at this father. “Headmaster Crawford expelled me for three days.”

Lancelot listened quietly as Atticus explained the same story that he’d given to Annalise. It came as little surprise, but with the help of the trusted nanny, the heat of the situation fell on the school instead of the boy. “I see. The matter with the school will be resolved. Refrain from giving such information out to others again, Atticus.”

“Yes, father. I’ll do better.” The dejection in his voice only lasted for a few silent moments. He never wallowed in those emotions for too long. “If I’m not going to school for a few days, does that mean Annalise can bring me here for the day?” He glorified the idea of being in this army, wanting nothing more than to be the King one day.

“Yes, I suppose it would be advantageous to spend your time learning. You can accompany me while I work,” Lancelot replied, picking back up his pen. He couldn’t explain how proud he was when his son showed such commitment to his future within the army.

Atticus lit up at those words, blue eyes sparkling with unkempt eagerness. “Did you hear that, Annalise?” His head whipped around to the woman lingering by the door. His grin wide and filled with happiness.

Lancelot paused his writing, his gaze falling on his nanny. “I nearly forgot. Kyle has requested both of you in the infirmary.” It was that time of year again. His least favorite thing in the entirety of Cradle.

“That’s good, because I’ve got some choice words for him,” Annalise said, an irritated smile crossing her lips. The said doctor was the reason Atticus even heard about corrupting crystals. He’d never do it again by the time she was finished with him.

[bedlamgames]

Q&A #103

Today we have the Twine conversion, lesbian training mantras, social lube, a bunch of random stuff from the discord, and a whole lot more. 

[Anonymous said]: I'm really curious what the tally means for your twine conversion posts. Can't seem to figure out what its suppose to represent progress wise...

- Answered this last Q&A. Because of you asking I’ve now also added the explanation to what it’s about to every stream post so I hope that helped with understanding what’s going on with that.

[Anonymous said]: Suggestion: For races that start with a random corruption (ie: Succubi), have an option in full custom to spend points to either narrow what that corruption is (to be one of the four types, for example) or to outright pick one (for a much higher cost).

- That’s a good idea. Being able to pick specifically I think would be too much. There are ALOT of corruptions so that would mean many many menus to be able to select everything. Being able to pick one of the four types seems fair to me as something to spend points on in Full Custom. Added it to my notes. 

[Anonymous said]: Have a succubus slaver who used to be a lamia. On level up, she had the option to get the Fleet trait, which I thought was off-limits for Lamia due to their body shape. I think it's a bug?

- Good spot and should be fixed as of the last update. 

[Anonymous said]: Noticed a bug with No Haven 0.903: If you select a human (or once-human) for your character, and then quick restart, your next character will keep the human's Racial aspect Social Lube. On the topic of that Racial, it says " includes one human, and three other different races/subtypes gain an additional Success" Does that mean one human and three non-humans, or one human and three slavers each of a different race from each other?

-Took me awhile to work this out as going from human to human seemed fine. However you’re right that those with a heritage like demi-angels or succubi will incorrectly keep the previous racial. 

The second so as long as you have at least one human you can get the buff by say having a northerner, noble, wastelander, and convent. 

[Anonymous said]: hi bud, xfto/x421 here, its been a long time i guess. wanted to ask about the status of the no haven/twine conversation. i joined your picardo lately but couldnt post some reports since you dont allow guest-posts. well anyway, the report is about something ridiculous i have found after some restarts, the chosen main charakter (lamia) starts as male with the hard carry aspect(immense shaft) and different description than the ones the perks would give. 1/2

another question, feels like i asked something similiar in the past, how about the integration of different artpacks/access to older pics, or deletion of those that never get used? i guess that would requiere some more access to the game than you allow atm. maybe with twine? do you have a roadmap on tfgames or somewhere for the future of no haven? i know there are some more races you want to implement and improve some systems, but thats it, hope you are doing well in these times. 2/2

I do an update on the patreon every two weeks which is linked on the twitter. You do not need to be a patron to read these and is the best way to stay informed about what I’ve been up to. That includes the status of the conversion. To quickly sum it up;

It's at a stage where all the RAGS to Twine code conversion is basically done. What I need to do now is translate all that work into something playable and there's currently big logic issues with a bunch of the conditions and passages. So what I'm currently doing is trying to tidy up the visual look of the code with a bunch of idents with the theory that will make finding the errors easier.

Alas it’s not me disallowing guest posts... Picarto had some massive stonking issues and so they locked things down hard due to that preventing guests from chatting. I suggest a throwaway email site to get around that.

I don’t think there’s any art in the game file that’s not used as I try to keep on top of deleting the old ones. Not really down for doing art packs of the old ones as due to that not being my art so I see them as placeholder only until they can be replaced by commissions. 

I probably do need to do some kind of roadmap sometime. I’m less keen as it’s kind of a dirty word these days as due to the miss-use of them by others it’s got some bad connontations, but I’m also aware the alternative which is me randomly mentioning stuff on discord/picarto streams leaves the vast majority of my audience in the dark which is also really not ideal.

[Anonymous said]: [no haven 0.903] [Crit no longer grants Bimboborn] okay, but how do I get bimboborn now?

- It’s a corruption. Specifically Blessings of Perversion. 

[Anonymous said]: With the change to training where hypnotic slavers can fully embed the relevant mantras for blowjob, bimbo, and sissy training, could we also get that for lesbian training?

- Yes that’s the plan when I do the third part of lesbian training. Got a set of commissions planned just got to sort the funding and work out who I’m getting to do it. 

[Anonymous said]: hey bud, x421 here, again, might be already fixed because thats from no haven .903, but i recently had the witch queen super rare quest, you might want to proof read the quest and results, there are a few typos. i really did enjoy the writing nonetheless, just a quick question about that quest, as far as i understood this one, you only change your odds of the final result depending on how good you do on your way to the final, but the reward in the end only depends on the final result? 1/2

2/2 it just dawned on me that its been a while since you made an Q&A post so i guess i ll go and lurk on the tfgames forum in the next days, just one last question: i asked early in development about camp upgrades and you were not that convinced about that stuff, i understand you want the slaver camp as some bandit camp and not some castle/bastion or whatever, but since you added camp upgrades, maybe add proximity to a certain region? or something to spend supplies and gold in a 13month+ run?

- Hah! Okay will give it another read through.That’s correct yes. There’s also rewards on the way if you Critical those parts. 

There is a new gold sink coming soon in an upcoming update. I’ve also got plans for more camp upgrades coming later. 

[From the Patreon]: I'm that guy you replied to about the patch notes in Q&A 101. Solid updates. Bugs in the outfit system has driven me nuts since like, 2015, has it been that long already? I think it has. I like collecting them and something always blows up. This time, I ended up with a slaver wearing both the ooze outfit and ponygirl outfit. So there's that. Also I was disappointed the new Quicker then You'd Like wasn't interactive. Solid in any case though, thanks!

- I'll get them all one day I swear! Don't suppose you remember the chain of events that led to that? New QAYL was a patron requested one with the idea of having a big pay off for playing submissive which often involves playing sub-optimally.

[From the Patreon]: 1-ive been noticing when you choose to repick choices for an slave training assignment the slave gets added to the list of choices 2-also just how rare is the post-slave princess city assignment, cause i can never seem to get it even after selling multiple slave princesses 3-another thing is that the nightly puppet-leader stat is almost impossible to get again(either that or i have bedwarmers incapable of usurping me even thought i my current stats mean i couldnt win against even the subbiest slave)

- Will check 3 as you've not been the only person to mention that. 2 I know exists for sure as other people have definitely got it. Should be no rarer than any other rare City assignment, and thanks for the spot on 1.

[From the Discord]: Top 3 Animes of the 2010 to 2020

Mahou Shoujo Madoka★Magica the series was staggeringly good. Just redefined what anime could be to me. Film is a... well it was a thing. A beautiful thing with an ending which I still quite know how to feel about. 

Shirobako. It’s about creativity, craft, and about how people can come together to make something. It might not be something good, but dangit it’s been made and that’s worthwhile. It’s also from personal experience by miles the most accurate depiction of working in an office I’ve ever seen.

Oh man this is very very hard deciding on the third so pick one of the following and I could probably make a strong case for it. 

Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon, Darling in the FranXX (yes really, yes even the ending), Lupin III: Part 5, Kill la Kill, Monster Musume, Flip Flappers, Demi-chan wa Kataritai, Zombieland Saga, or Kaguya-sama wa Kokurasetai.

Also while I was taking the question to mean series both Your Name and Promare are absolutely phenonemal films. 

[From the Discord]: Best recent Eurovision Act

Lena. Always Lena. 

[From the Discord]: What's the agricultural technological level of No Haven like 

It’s not hit industrialization yet. What makes the difference is and allows cities like Aversol and even bigger to exist is that the organization of the human empire is far better than it has any right to be for the other levels of development being able to keep an incredibly complex supply chain constantly flowing even if on the ground level it barely seems to be moving at all. There are also some much, much larger farms both on the Great Plains and further to the north compared to the much more isolated single/couple of households ones that your slavers raid. 

[From the Discord]: What have been some of your all-time favourite assignments, both in terms of working on them and how they turned out?

Love When Week’s End Comes for a recent one. Writing all the results in colour commentary (and all the variations for weather, events and outcomes) was a real challenge and I do like how it came out. 

Witch-Queen and Arisin’ for being the first times I tried to go for a different, more potentially disturbing/freaky mood, and I’m pleased with the results. 

Sable Masquerade as I really like the ‘bad end’ I came up with. Actually I like the whole thing as while the pitch from the patron obviously helped, a lot of it was inspired by a random superhero bondage party picture I saw on HF, which I decided to run with, and had a bunch of fun exploring. 

[From the Discord]: Weirdest bug and most difficult bug

The one that resulted in a male wisp riding a griffon was a fun one. 

Most difficult has to be the clothing management which as a previous question suggests I’ve still not entirely solved. 

[From the Discord]: If No Haven was an MMO, what race/class would you play?

Kreen rogue mainly as I really like the edit I did for the portrait which MidnightonMars later translated into a commission. 

If not definitely a lamia. 

[From the Discord]: Knowing what you do now about the design of the game, are there any game mechanics you wish you'd have implemented differently?

Clothing management. So very much clothing management. I’ve redone it entirely twice now, and it’s still not where I want it to be. 

[From the Discord]: What was your inspiration for creating the setting of No Haven?  Has the direction the game has gone varied from your initial idea? If so what has been the biggest change?

- It started off with adapting the chan game Deeper Dungeons which was basically a certain popular mmo with nothing different about it outside of it being porn along with some possibly unwise options of personal abuse. I first changed it by ditching gnomes for neko which to my mind was a clear upgrade. There even used to be an examine refference in the RAGS version to suggest they’d been in the region of the dungeons before being driven out.

Then it was a gradual process of adding with the occasional subtractions to get it closer to a more Warhammer feeling setting which has always been a major love of mine when I was still doing Whorelock’s in RAGS.

With No Haven it was a case of building on what I’ve done there and expanding upon that with the race lore and assignment descriptions. Biggest was probably when I did the favoured/unfavoured stuff and added a ton of extra backstory to various races to justify the choices made there. 

[ahiddenpath]

Nanowrimo Update: Four Years Upperclassman Excerpt

Ohhhh boy.  Oh, boy.

I haven’t written today, so word count as of 11/15 is: 27,651 words.  

More below the cut!

This week was much harder than last, mostly because I haven’t been feeling well.  I went to the doctor thinking I would get a hormone panel, but she ordered liver/gall bladder/intestinal blood work and an ultrasound of those areas, instead.  I was extensively tested by a gastroenterologist in 2015, and he didn’t find anything useful, so I’m not sure what to think.

Maybe that’s why I wanted to write something silly and fun?  Working on part two of Four Years is... not very helpful, since I need to finish the first part, but please accept this excerpt XD  

The background here is that Davis brought a bottle of alcohol called Strawberry Wine to the Chosen house (from The Ouija Board).  Izzy accidentally drank the whole thing while working, and it turns out that the drink isn’t actually wine, which is ~12% alcohol.  It’s a mixed drink, and ~25% alcohol, meaning that Izzy’s in for a nasty night.  He’s also unprecedentedly drunk.

It’s unedited, Tumblr removed the formatting, and it’s 100% ridiculous.  Slightly suggestive IzzyxAmy content.

Izzy obeyed, then pressed his side against hers.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve never felt sho drunk.” Amy wasn’t sure why he was apologizing to her when he was the one who would end up hungover, but she didn’t bother asking for a clarification.  “How do you feel?” “Honestly, Amy…  There’s sho much dopamine.  Sugar?  Alcohol?  My brain’s like a…  like a…  Christmas.” You don’t say.  Amy scowled at the ceiling.  It was hardly fair to scold Izzy for drinking when she had come home buzzed, but…  Well, he was right.  Both sugar and alcohol altered brain chemistry and made the body crave more, leading to addition.  Occasional indulgence was fine within reason, but what if Izzy decided he liked this sensation, and wanted it again?  She could only hope that the inevitable hangover would discourage that. Izzy sighed, long, low, and with a blissful undertone that Amy had never heard before.  “Feelsh good, for now.  Maybe not later…”  Amy had to acknowledge a begrudging respect for his rationality, which had somehow survived a bottle of fifty proof alcohol.  Now, where was it when he drank it…   With great difficulty, he pressed himself against her side and cushioned his head on her shoulder.  He planted a wet kiss on her neck.  “You’re sho kind,” he sighed.   “W-what?” Amy wanted to look at his face, but he had wrapped himself around her like an octopus missing half its limbs.  Slowly, with comical care, he tipped himself onto his elbows, dropping kisses down her neck and collarbone.   “So shoft…” “U-uh, Izzy…”  Normally, Amy wouldn’t object to an almost-naked Izzy crawling all over her.  Trouble was, he just… didn’t do this.  Izzy was neither cold nor distant, but he was never cutesy.  She didn’t know how to explain this, especially to a blitzed person, and all mental attempts to organize her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he lips landed on hers with a wet smack. That saccharine taste flooded her mouth, and Amy almost wished they had more strawberry wine, provided Izzy abstained.  Was it really this good, she wondered, or was the appeal in the secondhand delivery to her taste buds?  His hands slid beneath her dress, hitching up the skirt, and she no longer cared. “I’m undressed,” he murmured.  “You should be, too.  S’logic.”   Amy stared, dumbfounded, at his flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes.  How could they be bleary and focused at the same time?!  The desire to explore this new situation, this Izzy-who-wasn’t-Izzy, was overwhelming, and yet…  A nagging instinct warned her that it might not be wise. “Can you undress me?” she asked, lifting a brow.  Izzy nipped her lower lip and tugged the dress up in response, but it caught between her back and the mattress. “Sit up, please.”   The deadpan, thoroughly done quality to her voice might have made Izzy weep with pride under different circumstances.  “Izzy, sweetheart, you’re on top of me.” He blinked a few times, then slowly lifted one limb at a time, struggling to navigate a treacherous network of body parts.  Half amused, half dismayed, Amy sat up and raised her arms, mostly to see what would happen next. Izzy trembled as he rose to his knees.  He seemed to decide that speed would counteract his impaired balance, and he dove towards her and yanked her dress up.  Alas, it had a zipper, and it the fabric couldn’t pass her bosom without being undone.  Amy found her head and arms stuck in an inverted tent of skirt material, pressed into her bed by the dead weight of her boyfriend’s malfunctioning body. The air squeezed out of her lungs, and Amy sat, dazed, beneath Izzy.  She forced a deep breath, then wheezed, “If Joe heard that and comes to check on us, you’re dead.”  In lieu of responding, Izzy stuck his face in her exposed butt and nuzzled, smooching through her panties.  Amy swallowed a shriek that was equal parts shock, laughter, and rage. His fingertips dipped beneath the band of her panties, and Amy fought the urge to kick him.  “Zeus, you horn dog!  Get me out of this dress!” “That’sh on my to-do list,” Izzy replied, his tinny voice muffled with proximity to her butt cheeks. Amy squirmed, trying to reach her zipper, but she was caught in a cage of fabric and body weight.  “What’s your end game here, Izzy?  You said yourself that you’re not coordinated enough for sex.” “There exist a plethora of pleasant activities that aren’t sex.”  Izzy reached for the bottom of her dress, which had to be flipped over in order to unzip the zipper.  This caused great difficulty, and Amy indulged in some dark thoughts about drunk geniuses who could correctly use ‘plethora,’ but couldn’t strip their girlfriend. With much fumbling and grumbled instructions from Amy, they managed to remove the dress and her bra.  Amy placed her discarded clothes on her desk chair, hopefully out of potential puke range, locked the bedroom door, and returned to bed.  Izzy was on her in an instant, squishing his face in her chest while Amy stared at the ceiling and wondered, Is this the real life?

[dellebecque]

In His Garden (rough draft)

Here’s a little snippet of what I’ve been working on--there’s quite a bit more than this, but this is the most complete scene available thusfar, though even this isn’t finished and revised and may change drastically in content before I’m done.

Who: WoL!Aden, and the specter of an old friend When: Post-Innocence, pre-Tempest.  Major 5.0 spoilers.

Aden surfaced from the vision on his back, head pressed against the cool scored crystal of the floor.  It’d worked this time, Thancred’s ridiculous suggestion about how to shift when he felt a vision coming on in order to fall safely should he collapse with no one around--but his chest ached as it always did after a vision, and he could taste the plastery white bile in the back of his throat, and he convulsed once with a spike of white hot agony that pulled a pained gasp from him unbidden--that had nothing to do with the vision.  For a moment all Aden could do was lay on the floor focusing on his breathing, on trying to find a calm center.

But there was no calm center.  It’d been shot in the back while trying to save his life.  He rolled onto his side before the second surge of thick white liquid filled his mouth and managed to spit it out, choking and gasping as his stomach clenched around nothing.  He felt so hollow, empty and wrung out and he needed to… to…

Aden pushed himself to hands and knees with a grunt of effort, gritting his teeth against the pain.  You are in his garden.  And even if he wasn’t here, this was his sanctum.  The specter of G’raha lingered everywhere here, and that was a comfort.  Even absent he offered Aden shelter in the privacy to be weak for a while, the safety of the tower.  If he turned here, it would take some time to make his way out, and Lyna would surely rouse the guard before he could….

He shook his head hard, and looked up, gaze darting frantically.  There had to be something in here he could use as a distraction--a book with a dark leather binding caught his eye, and Aden carefully pushed himself to his feet, made his way over to it.  Heavensward, it said.  Edmont’s memoirs.  He knew about them, even if he hadn’t seen a published copy yet, and put the book aside for what lay beneath--a little gray box, smartly folded, and full of yellowed letters that’d been treated with an alchemical substance to preserve them.  Dearest Paplymo--he put the box down, not reading any further.  He didn’t need to know Lyse’s innermost thoughts, had no right to pry into the grieving over her dearest friend.  Another box, this one full of alchemically treated newspaper clippings: articles about the theater troupe in Kugane and their forays into Rabanastre.  A serialized report about the war in Ala Mhigo.  A sketch of him talking to Raubahn in Castrum Oriens, done in a hasty style that made their conversation seem urgent.  Another from the rather ill-fated day of the first council meeting in Ala Mhigo--the only one he’d agreed to stand for, and others followed captured by quick hands he hadn’t noticed, all clipped from newspapers--and some he was certain had not yet been made.  There was a copy of a comic in the Doman fashion that seemed to bear a stylized likeness of him on the cover--he definitely hadn’t been asked about that, and would have to quiz Hancock when next he saw the man--and one of those thrice-damned books that’d beaten him home from the Steppes about a mysterious and powerful foreign warrior’s less than family friendly (and entirely fictional) misadventures. He put the box down, unable to process it all, and saw a familiar old book tucked away--his favorite travelogue, one written by a dragoon scouting in the hinterlands some decades prior, and one he hadn’t found a new copy of.  He opened it carefully, found each individual page had been treated with that same alchemical preservative, and on the inside cover in faded ink:

Sweet dreams, you heroic moron.  I’ll see you on the morrow.  -A.D.

It’d been a joke, something to defuse the terrible tension of knowing G’raha would shut those doors behind him, of the knowledge that he’d never see the man again--one of the few people who’d treated him like a man rather than a weapon at the time, and another step towards convincing him he could keep nothing and no one of value.  He put the book down, staring dumbfounded at the pile of ephemera.  Of course G’raha had needed to do research--to find out when to summon him from--he’d seen that, hadn’t he, in that strange dream the Echo had visited upon him?  As his eyes unfocused, overwhelmed by all this stuff, something small and dark tucked away beneath everything caught his attention, and Aden carefully moved the books and boxes of loose papers aside.  A very small, plain wooden box, no bigger than his palm, and when he opened it his heart stopped.

Inside sat a ring, dark as drachenmail and engraved with twining branches, a small sapphire and small diamond embedded side by side.  Aden choked, and it had nothing to do with the light.  He’d lost it in Rhalgr’s Reach, the first time he fought Zenos, and thought it gone for good.  But somewhere in the future someone had found his engagement ring, and somehow G’raha knew it for what it was. He slipped it onto his finger unconsciously, ran his thumb over the cool metal in what had once been a reassuring gesture.  It still worked.

Aden collapsed heavily into the only chair not piled with books and stared at the room.  You are in his garden.  The very center of it, perhaps, the seat of a hundred-year obsession with saving his life.  How much had G’raha done for these people, and how much for him?  Who had he thought of when he bound himself to the tower and ruined his flesh in exchange for enough time?  Had he thought then, I’ll see you on the morrow?  Aden couldn’t countenance that level of dedication, even faced with all the proof of it.  They had known each other for a matter of weeks while exploring the tower, and yet…

Five years ago it would've unnerved him, such all-consuming dedication. Two years ago it would have angered him, such an invasion of privacy.  Scarce  months, and it would have terrified him, with Zenos' obsession still fresh in his mind.  Yet now all he felt was a melancholic sorrow, a different kind of hollowness next to the gnawing ache of the light.

The Exarch had clearly faced a world without Aden's lasting mark and denied it. He had given everything of himself to secure a new future, a happier one, and though he had meant to die for it first he had lived for it.  He had surrendered himself wholly to Aden with zealous conviction, even with Aden two centuries dead and gone.

And Aden found he could do nothing less.  Despite the obfuscation and their terrible circumstances, the Exarch had offered him the time and peace to begin healing from--everything, and in every word and deed proven he was not so alone as he’d thought all these years.  Even if it were too late to save G'raha, he would ensure the man's faith had not been misplaced.  He swallowed back white bile, and slowly stood from the chair, rubbing his thumb against the cool metal of the ring.

No, that would not be enough. His hands clenched into loose fists, the ring heavy against his skin.  I will not lose this one.

[jaimistoryteller]

Jaimi’s Update

5/6/19 Update

Hi All

Thank you all for continuing to share Shelk’s GoFundMe, I really appreciate it and it’s been helping. Now on to that update I keep planning and not seeming to get to. 

This is a long post, so I will put it below a cut. 

About Me First

So March and April were both massively long and a more then a little painful, both physically and mentally. I had a depressive spiral because of something someone said, cause even though they hadn’t meant to set one off, their word choice did not help. I got it just about under control and someone else said something that sent it right back down. I finally got it under control again, back in the slow drag of getting out of it. Not that I know for a fact it will work or not. Life is never that easy. 

I spent way too much of the two months on the go, to the point where my body shut down a couple of different times and I was completely useless. At least I accomplished my goals though, even if I paid massively for them. 

I have a new therapist, she’s lovely but it’s frustrating, because I did not want to be changing therapists in the middle of shit going wrong, but alas it was a thing that had to happen since my previous one is officially retired for a variety of reasons (and I hope he enjoys it too!). 

Despite my best efforts, I am a foster fail again, and have a new cat, he is adorable and loveable. I’ve named him Silver for his chest and markings. 

[ID: Silver the cat laying partly on the laptop keyboard]

I’m trying to figure out how to pay my electric, it’s due on the 10th, I should have made a post on it, but I’ve been more focused on making sure my sister doesn’t lose her home. Plus I was under therapist orders not to think of anything money or work related for three days during this last weekend. 

Winston

[ID: Winston the rottweiler service pup laying on my lap while I pet him]

He’s doing perfect on his training, already has two of his tasks completely down, working on getting several more down. 

Unfortunately, there have been several problems with store peeps despite the fact I make sure he has his harness on and his leash on that says he is a service dog. They keep making a fit over the fact he’s a rottweiler, I even had one say it directly to my face. 

So I’ve ordered a bunch of business cards with the ADA online address on them, a copy of the two questions they can legally ask on the front:

Is that a service dog?

What tasks does your service dog perform for you?

On the back I put the four points people keep missing the most, copied directly from the ADA FAQ:

Staff are not allowed to request any documentation for the dog, require the dog demonstrate its task, or inquire about the nature of the person’s disability.

The ADA does not require service animals to wear a vest, ID tag, or specific harness. 

Covered entities may not require documentation, such as proof that the animal has been certified, trained, or licensed as a service animal, as a condition for entry.

Michigan has a voluntary registration program but it is not required.

The last point is from the state ADA, rather then the Federal one. If I had more room, I would have included the fact it’s illegal to try and force a registration, but alas business cards aren’t that big. 

I knew when I got him there was going to be questions because he’s so big, I hadn’t realized how foolish peeps were going to be over his breed. 

Both his leash and harness say Service Dog on them, but because I didn’t go out and buy the specialized one, but a training harness which was a lot cheaper and works for our needs just as well, people like to question it often. To the point where I even had one person tell me to get out of the store because someone else’s dog acted up, so mine couldn’t really be a service dog. Seriously, then she tried to back it with the ADA, while breaking the first three points from the back, and then insisting that the Michigan registry is required. 

Seriously, she’s one of the reasons I made the cards, right after I reported her and her boss, since she was insisting she checked with her boss, and her boss agreed. I even stressed to both the ADA and her company I didn’t want either fired, I wanted them properly trained, it should not be the customer’s job to print off the law and bring it in to make a point, just to keep shopping. 

I refuse to go back to having days I can’t go to the store because others want to have a problem with my awesome boy. If they have a problem with another dog, that’s the other dog’s handlers problem, not mine. To take it out on me is unprofessional. 

Shelk & Lot Rent

All of you peeps who have shared it (particularly you awesome one @noregretsnotearsnoanxieties) are wonderful! I appreciate all of the help. Shelk is flabbergasted and thankful beyond words for all the help. 

Last month we were able to get $555 within the $3,600. The lot owner accepted that, which set the eviction notice back to the 15th of this month. 

Right now we are at $150 this month, which is great as we are trying to get to at least $300, as that would pay at least one month. Currently she owes $3,345 between past and current due. 

A wonderful peep has said they are going to try and do something mid-month after getting paid, so I am rather hopeful, and I will be continuing to share, with updates every time there is a donation. 

Unexpected Meeting Kickstarter

I know I have two digital rewards to finish, I have been working on them, they will be posted by the end of this month. 

I am also going to start ordering the stuff to send out to people, getting the bookmarks, magnets, posters, and other goodies ready while the book is being edited. I can happily report the first few chapters have been looked at, though I have not yet had a chance to check the edits, which is why I haven’t shared snippets yet. 

It didn’t help that one of the rewards got corrupted when my computer updated in the middle of a save. Anyways, I’m excited! So bloody excited! 

Converging Lives

I will hopefully be returning to updating my @converginglives blog this week, I miss being able to post stuff there plus I still have the Spring 2019 A to Z Event to finish. 

I am also working on an actual website for it, which will have pretty much everything from the tumblr blog but in an organized method as I am tired of arguing with tumblr about it when making sure it’s in website format. 

Fanfic

Seeking is DONE - again. This time I emailed myself the file as well as typing it in google docs. Then of course docs didn’t have the problems it had last time. After 18 months of not being able to work on it, my muse finally got on the game. I’m so bloody pleased with that. I posted one chapter tonight, next Monday I will post the last chapter. 

I plan on posting the last chapter of Challenge Accepted on Wednesday as it’s done and I just need post it. 

I’m planning on working on Advent, Playful Stress Relief, Blessed, and Learning to Live. Why those ones? 

Advent is rough drafted out, might as well finish it. Besides, I don’t like the fact my lovely and fluff filled thing is still stuck in limbo. 

Playful Stress Relief is nearly done, I think editing was all I had left on that particular last chapter to finish it, though don’t quote me. It’s been awhile since I checked it. 

Blessed is calling me, though only lightly, and I’m not even sure there are peeps waiting for it, but hey whatevers. 

Learning to Live got a lovely comment which made me smile, in the height of a massive episode. I am updating it for that person, hopefully it will let me get on a roll and finish my oldest fanfic. 

You wanna see one of the other ones updated? Leave a comment on it, not just a “update please” but something you like, or a question, or even a smile face. Update please doesn’t encourage me, but pretty much everything else does. 

Cosmos Market

This is still being worked on, for those who don’t know what the market is, here is a link to the last post made on it. I’ll probably be updating it sometime in the near future, but at this moment that is a pretty good definition of it. 

I want -- need -- to get the market off the ground so I can stop needing to ask for help as I will have at least a small and stable income going. 

I’m not planning on making a lot off of it, just enough to pay my base bills, which will not put me out of the poverty line. I do expect it to be a success, however I plan on putting money into my employees and building instead. My sister being one of those employees in order to help her stop needing to ask for help as well since she’s been struggling to find a job. 

The market isn’t the only thing on the planner for business, it’s just the one I am focused on right this moment, though I have been eyeing my second rather heavily lately too, as it would be a much more passive situation for me to deal with. 

Disability

A lot of you know that I’ve applied for it in the past and was turned down as “disabled but not disabled enough”. I have reapplied for it. Why? Because I am still disabled, and a lot of times, things are worse then they were the last time I applied. 

This time I have been sent to deal with so many new doctors it’s making me want to scream. I don’t deal well with new people. Yet I have to. A lot. It’s frustrating beyond words. Still, if it helps over all, I will do whatever I must. 

It’s seriously my hope to get to the point where I can put it on hold, and only use it when I have a really bad flare up. Yes, things have been closer to stable since I got Winston, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t problems going on. I had a depressive spiral that lasted five bloody weeks. Sometimes I was able to force myself to get stuff done, other times I couldn’t even get out of bed because of my mind. It’s hard to be stable with that situation going on. 

Knowing my bills will be dealt with even if I can’t get out of bed would help a great deal. Far more than I really want to admit. At last, that’s the way it goes. 

Links

Rather then put the links in this mess, I will make a post just for them and then add the link to it here for those who want to share it. Any sharing would be appreciated as it helps more than you would imagine. 

I know a lot of people don’t have money, and while money is needed, that is not what I am asking for, all I am asking for is you take the time to share. Just a few seconds, a couple of clicks, can make a world of difference. 

While a lot of the links are about me, not all of them are as I also put up links to others who have helped me and friends who are in different tight situations. I’m a firm believer in paying it forward in any way possible. 

Link to Links

Previous Updates

5/1/19 & 5/3/19 

4/24/19

3/9/19 & Links

3/1/19

2/14/19

1/24/19

1/16/19

1/5/19

12/27/17 & 12/28/18

12/22/18

12/19/18

12/6/18 & 12/8/18

[seriouslyhooked]

Dear No One (Part 2/3)

Short CS holiday story, broken into three parts, where Emma is unlucky in love and decides that for her Christmas wish she’d like to find the right person for her. In an attempt to write what she wants into existence, Emma writes a letter to the man she wants to find someday and then shenanigans ensue. Rated T/M (basically I haven’t decided yet how smutty it’s getting) and based off of the song ‘Dear No One’ by Tori Kelly. Available on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Want to start by saying thanks to all of you for the support and the kind reviews and comments on this story. It’s been so nice to see you all enjoy it so much, and it’s made writing these next few chapters so fun. My writing schedule has been delayed because of school, however, I am happy to say that this story is getting not one, but two updates this week. Tonight we have this chapter, and Monday is part three. That was my stated conclusion point when I started writing this, but I could be convinced to write an epilogue too… anyway thanks so much for reading and I would love to hear what you all think about this update!

One of the most tedious parts of any new move was trying to find a new routine, and a new collection of favorite places. Uprooting one’s life was a difficult task and not easily done, and it was compounded for Killian Jones by the fact that his old life was in London and his new one was in the US. But after a few weeks of working at it, he finally felt like he was starting to settle.

That feeling, alas, was not thanks to the quientesciential charms of the city of Boston, or the strange but friendly neighbors that seemed to inhabit his apartment building. It wasn’t even the fact that he was once again working with his brother and best friend after years of operating from different parts of the world. No, the reason he was starting to feel like he just might belong here was rather singular, and it all hinged on the beautiful and entrancing blonde who just so happened to frequent the coffee shop closest to his new place.

The first day that he’d entered Belle’s, a neighborhood staple if his best friend Will could be could be trusted, Killian found it to be a mostly ordinary place. It was themed with books and literature and stories, and it was charming, even if the coffee was far from the best. He found it passable enough, and he had to admit he’d enjoyed the muffin far more than he normally would, but all of those little pieces would have been unremarkable until she walked in, a vision in red. Or, to be more precise, a red scarf.

That first moment, when he’d seen his mystery woman for the first time, Killian was struck by her very presence. He’d succumbed to all those clichés he used to scoff at in the movies: time standing still, his heart skipping a beat, the sunlight from outside seeming to trickle in just a bit more to cast her in its golden glow. But he didn’t give a damn about what he must seem like to others. All that mattered was that he knew all at once that he had to know her. Whoever this woman was, Killian knew she was special, and if wasn’t all thanks to the lithe beauty of her figure, or the perfectly pretty symmetry of her face. It was her eyes, big and green and sparkling with the exertion of life itself. She was radiant in every way, a siren almost, and it seemed he was just some bumbling sailor in that metaphor, for he was helpless to do anything but stop and stare at her.

After a week of said staring, which was frankly an embarrassment given that Killian had always prided himself on his charm and being able to speak to a pretty woman, Killian had planned yesterday to finally make his move. He was going to speak to this creature whose presence always lingered. She’d taken up residence in his thoughts, distracting him in ways no one else ever had, and it was time to man up and ask her out, or at the very least ask her name. But just as he had summoned up the courage to do so, all hell had broken loose. The usually busy buzz of Belle’s café had exploded with an unexpected pre-school rush, and with so many added people and such an increase of noise and sound, his window had been closed and the woman he’d been watching had run off, departing as soon as she had her coffee for whatever her day held in store.

As she was leaving, however, Killian noticed that she dropped something. Immediately he moved through the crowd to retrieve it, fending off the elbows and rushed gestures of too many teenagers to count, and when he collected the item he found it was a piece of paper, and more specifically a letter. Not wanting to pry, Killian had only glanced at the top of the page, and what he saw there had peaked his curiosity.

‘Dear No One’

It was such an unusual way to open correspondence like this, and in the face of such a greeting, Killian felt a yearning to read more. There was no science or hard fact behind it, but he could feel that this letter was written by the woman he’d been meaning to talk to. He also knew it was intimate, not through any sort of proof (nor from having read the contents of the letter) but because of the way it was written. From his fleeting glance he’d seen the penmanship displayed, the thorough, thoughtful, feminine script illustrated on the page. It was a throw back to times of old, when letter writing was what was done, and though her message seemed to have no specific recipient, Killian knew it wasn’t his to read.

Unfortunately by the time he’d gathered the paper she was gone, and though he chased her outside, the busy streets had made her lost to him. She was gone now, and his options were very few. He could, in theory, go back inside and leave this with a barista in the hopes they had something like a lost and found. He could discard it back where he’d found it and leave it to be trampled by God knew how many patrons of the café, or he could take it with him, knowing that though it would tempt him ceaselessly, he wouldn’t read it. It wouldn’t be right. No. If he were to take it he’d need to return it. That was the only thing to be done.

So here he was, a full day later and gearing up for the moment of truth. He’d been eager all morning, anxiously awaiting that sacred time of day, and finally he was off, headed from his apartment towards Belle’s with intention and purpose. It took all of thirty seconds of walking, however, before a black town car rolled up beside him, and a voice he knew all too well called out, pulling him from his mental prep for the moment ahead.

“Hey Jones, you doing all right?”

Killian looked up at his good friend and his long time second at work, Will Scarlet. He could see his friend’s cocky grin at having found Killian distracted. It was a rare occurrence, or at least it had been when they were still in London. Will had been over here longer than Killian, but it was really only a few years, and in that time nothing had changed on Killian’s end. He was focused on his career and his business, as he should be. But since moving Killian had been less than entirely fixated on work. Still, Killian didn’t like his long time friend drawing attention to that, and he sobered his features that might speak to his surprise

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing. This is hardly on your way to the office.”

“No it’s not, but you see, I have this friend – dreadfully dull fellow – real stick in the mud. Anyway he is a mad man and claims to like walking in freezing temperatures…”

Killian mumbled that it wasn’t that bad out, but truth be told it was rather brisk. Okay it was likely certifiably frigid but he hadn’t really noticed it until now. Before he could say that, Will pressed on.

“But see the problem is he’s also my boss. So I’ve got to look out for him not just for the sake of friendship but for business too. And I decided, you know what? What good is the company car and the driver and the perks if said boss ends up dying of hypothermia? If he dies I’m likely out of the job, and then my perks are gone too. Which would be a real shame because I’ve truly become dependent on the pomp and the frill. So I decided, it’s really just too much to risk. Boss’ wants be damned. You’re not walking to work today.” Killian almost told him to fuck off with that idea, knowing he had every intention of getting to the bakery this morning, but quickly Will slipped in a final comment. “Don’t worry we’re still going to Belle’s. You’ve still got time to make your move.”

Hearing Will mention a private intention of his, Killian’s spine went straight, and he couldn’t help but start to ask the question. “How did you-?”

“Know you were going to Belle’s? My girl is the owner, mate. You really think she hasn’t mentioned it to me?”

“Oh,” Killian said, taken aback by the revelation. “So this Belle and your Belle…”

“One and the same. Thus the reason I said you should check it out,” Will said with a self-satisfied chuckle. “And I’d warn you to watch yourself when it comes to her, since you seem quite taken with her place, but I know your eyes haven’t been aimed at my woman. You’ve another lass in mind with all these little visits.”

Will’s words were teasing, and he looked every bit the rascal that he’d been when they were kids at having Killian cornered like this. You’d never know by that expression that they’d all grown up. In that moment Will looked like a kid on Christmas. But Killian knew fighting this or denying the truth was useless, instead he followed his friend’s next bit of advice. “Just get in the car. Start the day off less frozen.”

Killian sighed before giving up any pretense of refusal, sliding into the vehicle next to Will who still looked all too pleased with himself. But even if Killian found his friend’s flair for the dramatic just a little bit taxing, he had to admit that if he were an outsider this might actually be funny. All things considered, Killian needed that humor and lightness in his life. Having an elder brother like Liam had always been a blessing, it meant he had a built in friend to walk through the world with, but Liam could be summed up entirely with only one word: driven. And since humor didn’t translate into better business earnings, it wasn’t usually on his radar. Still, to be fair, that overarching assessment of Liam had been shifting lately, thanks very much to Killian’s soon to be sister in law, a wonderful (and extremely patient) woman named Elsa. Killian knew it was Elsa’s input that had gotten him back here and working with his brother at all. She was a lover of family, and in the times he’d met her she was nothing but kind and generous, and luckily she brought out similar personal shades in his brother when they were together.

“So. Should I send out the save the dates now? I’m assuming with all this build up we’re gonna pop the big question today.”

Bloody hell! This was what Killian had been afraid of when getting into the car. “Watch it Will,” Killian warned as his friend only laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, mate, I couldn’t help it. You’re so easy to mess with these days. Who knew all it would take to make that impenetrable armor of yours shatter was a pretty girl?”

“I’m not talking about this with you.” Or anyone, Killian added in his mind, firm in his choice not to submit himself to the embarrassment or teasing.

“Who said anything about you talking? I’m the one with all the information. Did a little digging to supplement what I already knew about her. Just basic stuff, you know, social security number, date of birth, last known addresses. We should start with basics though. Name: E-,”

“Will, stop!” Killian yelled, and the force of his tone sounded out through the town car. It was enough for his friend to still for a moment, his eyes growing more and more curious. “Look I realize you think you’re helping me, but did it ever occur to you that investigating a woman I’ve never so much as said hello to was stepping seriously over the line?”

“Uh, no,” Will said honestly, looking down at his phone and then back to Killian. “I was thinking, ‘hey, my mate likes this girl, she’s friends with my Belle. Plus, August my P.I. friend owes me a favor, and I can help him see if she’s even worth having his knickers in a twist over in the first place.’”

“She’s worth it,” Killian ground out, ignoring mention of his ‘knickers’ which was an attempt by Will at being funny. “And I don’t need whatever you’ve got to know that. I don’t want to hear any of it, Will, and I doubt Belle will be happy to hear what you’ve done, if she is in fact her friend.”

“I was just kidding about the details, Killian. Everything I know I know from first hand experience.”

Killian stayed quiet at that, but he was sure his eyes gave away his feelings to his friend. He was glad that Will hadn’t ordered some crazy background check, but the crux of the issue wasn’t that Will knew this woman, it was that Killian wanted to know her too, and not second-hand details from Will, but first hand ones of his own.

“Ah I get it. You want to figure it all out for yourself,” Will said, the dots finally connecting and Killian gave one stiff nod and Will turned his phone off and threw it back in his pocket. “Well in that case I won’t tell you. Won’t even say her name. But I hope you’ve got a plan for today, man. Otherwise this is going to be interesting.”

There was no more time to discuss this as the car pulled up to the café in question, and Killian knew he was now a little earlier than he had been the past week. This likely meant that he had time to make the plan Will was talking about, since he definitely didn’t have one aside from approaching her today. But when he walked in the door, he was stunned to find that she was already here and looking more than a little frazzled as she spoke with the owner.

“So you’re sure, Belle? No one dropped anything off with you guys yesterday?”

Her voice might be doused in emotion, which appeared to be a mix of worry and earnestness, but it still sang out like a song to his ears. God she was amazing, and she’d just given him an in. She was obviously looking for the letter, and he had it. All her had to do was give it to her…

“No, Emma. I’m sorry, but maybe it’s a good thing? You’re so worried about this letter, but it probably got swept up and thrown out or it’s just lost in your house somewhere.”

“If I never see that letter again I’ll be all too happy,” the woman – Emma – said, stopping Killian in his tracks. She let out a sigh that seemed to be somewhat relieved before confessing more to her friend. “I can’t even tell you how mortified I’d be if someone found it. I mean what was I thinking, Belle?”

“You were thinking it’s Christmas and that there’s no better time than Christmas to want more and to believe that good things come to those who are good themselves.”

“Yeah. I thought maybe this year, but… well I guess I should have known better.”

Killian’s heart clenched at the thought, knowing that despite the fact that he would never say it out loud, he felt the same way about wanting more than his life currently held. Whatever she’d written in that note, it was starting to become clear that Emma had put her honest, vulnerable wishes onto the page. He was dying to know what those wishes might be, but in the face of her embarrassment and anxiety he was so glad he never read on. It would have ruined everything before they even had a chance to begin, and even now Killian was wondering if he should mention to her that he had the letter and that it was safe and still a secret, but more than being honest about that, Killian had a need to see that doubt that had washed over Emma disappear. He hated that she’d given up hope, and if he had his way, he would do anything in his power to see that distrust gone for good.

“Hey ladies, you gonna stand around all day and yammer on, or you gonna order your coffee and let us all get about our business?”

The harsh censure from the shorter, incredibly irritated, man in front of Killian in line was grating and rude. But the worst of it was that he was loud, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the place, including Emma. On a normal day, Killian knew Emma was the kind of woman who wouldn’t allow herself to feel chastised or belittled, but her worries about the letter continued to linger, and he acted on instinct, stepping in when she needed a bit of support.

“No offense, mate, but your business can’t be all that important.”

“You want to say that again to my face, pretty boy?” the man said with a sneer and Killian tried not to laugh as the sudden spark of rage this tiny man was showing. He was obviously over compensating for something, but as Killian snuck a look back at Emma, seeing her attention was fully on the exchange, he decided taking the high road might be best.

“Sure. I said your business can’t be all that important. There are two other lines open, the queue is moving same as ever, and if this was the kind of morning where you needed caffeine in thirty seconds I hardly think you’d have stopped here.”

“You don’t know me or anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Killian hedged, lowering his voice just a smidge, but bringing it to that tone that had been called intimidating a time or two before. “Causing a scene over two friends catching up who have no bearing on your day or your life speaks volumes. Trust me.”

“And what’s it got to do with you?”

“Very little. But the more you complain, the more tedious my day gets. So please, do us all a favor and pipe down.”

“You really going to let him talk like this to me, Belle?” The man said and Killian looked over to Emma’s friend who simply shrugged, even as Killian could see the light of a would-be smile in her eyes.

“What’s that old saying, Leroy? The customer is always right? Can’t seem to argue today.”

“Hey, I’m a customer!” Leroy protested and Belle shook her head.

“No, you’re a grumpy old Grinch,” Belle said nodding towards one of the other baristas who put together what must be the man’s regular order. “And tomorrow I won’t be so generous. New rule – you want coffee, you play nice. Got it?”

Leroy mumbled something that sounded less than kind hearted, but Killian knew it was still agreement, and when the man was finally out of the door the whole place seemed to lighten. People went back to their conversations, and Killian moved up in the line, ordering his own coffee and breakfast, and then looking around for Emma, only to discover she’d been waiting for him.

“Thanks for doing that. It’s only Leroy, but I just…”

“Couldn’t deal today?” Killian filled in and Emma nodded, a small smile spreading as she did.

“I’m Emma, by the way. Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones,” he said, extending his hand as she did hers. It was a mild mannered way of greeting someone, but when their skin touched Killian felt a bolt of awareness, another sign that Emma was more than a mere woman, but someone he desired more than nearly anything else.

“You make a habit of rescuing damsels being accosted by short custodians?” Emma teased and Killian chuckled, taking a half step closer to her on instinct and tracking the way her jade colored eyes widened ever so slightly and her breathing seemed to hitch.

“I’d hardly call you a mere damsel, love.”

A moment passed between them and Killian fought the urge to pull her close and kiss her senseless. He knew she would taste of cocoa and cinnamon, her normal order every morning, but it was too damn fast and he knew it. The problem was he couldn’t seem to get any other words out to prolong this little interlude, and though Emma was seemingly caught up in the same sensual haze that he was, eventually she cleared her throat and came back down to reality.

“Right. Well, thanks again. I better be going.”

“Would you like to get a coffee?” Killian asked, and immediately when he said it he felt like a bumbling teenager. Jesus, what a terrible line, and worse it was completely ridiculous given the current situation. Still, he couldn’t regret the ill-timed move, not when Emma grinned, a look of actually tangible enjoyment coloring her face.

“Uh, we’ve already got coffee.”

“I meant tomorrow, love. I’d have asked for dinner, but you seem the kind of woman who tests the waters before taking to the sea.”

Again he was talking almost nonsense. Taking to the sea? Really? Who said that? It didn’t matter though because Emma laughed at the phrasing, and the sound was so melodic and breathtaking Killian wanted to hear it a million more times. He waited in hopeful anticipation, hoping her laughter spoke to a willingness to say yes instead of blow him off, and though it only took a few seconds for her to respond, Killian felt the anticipation of the moment weighing heavily.

“Coffee sounds good, actually. But can we maybe… not come here? I love Belle, and this place, but first dates at your friend’s bakery…” Emma trailed off, leaving her thoughts well expressed even though she didn’t speak them aloud. It would be awkward, and since Belle was dating Will, Killian had to believe she likely had that same tendency towards meddling and constantly observing. “Not that this is a date. I mean, you know, maybe it is. But you didn’t say -  I mean -,”

Unwilling to let Emma flounder in the question any longer, even though he enjoyed that she seemed to be every bit as flustered as he was, Killian moved closer, surprising them both by taking her hand in his. That instant spark was there again, and it affected him, rocking him to his core, and making his words come out with more gravel than they normally would.

“Oh it’s definitely a date, Emma. Hopefully one of many.”

“Yeah?” Emma asked, her cheeks turning a bit pink as she asked. Killian was powerless to do anything but nod, his eyes falling down to her lips before they came back to hers as she responded. “Well okay then.”

And with a few more words shared between them, as well as their numbers and details of tomorrow’s date, Killian and Emma parted ways, much to Killian’s dismay. But in the end. Killian knew a little separation would be all right. Because today had only been the start of what was to come, and tomorrow Killian knew he’d do everything he could to make Emma see what kind of magic could be between them.

Post-Note: So there we have it. A date has been arranged, the meet cute has happened, and full disclosure we’re getting a little time jump in the next chapter. But don’t worry, the Christmas feels are strong with the next one. We’ll get a little drama, and a whole lot of love. Anyway thanks so much to all of you for reading. If you’re celebrating I hope you’re having a lovely, restful Christmas season. See you all next time!