#but also just with general logic- if you have someone who is not comfortable shooting who is not the pg

[the-physicality]

"tomorrow we find out where paige is going" .... .tomorrow we find out which team has a 99% chance of drafting paige

[magics-neptunes-things]

Bang, Bang.

Hi guys!

So this is from this request and it won't be an happy one. It might contain some medical things who aren't right, but I'm not a doctor even if I made some research to write something logical.

Please enjoy and thanks again dear anon for your perfect request ♥

Also no proofreading for now, sorry!

TW : Fight between lover, gun, shooting, bleeding, hospital, coma, sadness and a lot of angst.

Champion’s league finale. You are playing with your team against Barcelona and more specifically your girlfriend’s team. The Spanish are looking for another cup to continue to break all the records, but your team is very motivated to stop them. It would be the first Cup for your club and for you, too. It’s not ideal playing against your girlfriend honestly, but you knew when you start dating that it was a risk to take.

Alexia and you are together for more than two years now, your forever crush becoming reality at a point during the Euro and when Alexia did her ACL. It’s not easy being away from your girlfriend, even if you are playing in Manchester city with some of your national teammates and friends (Laia Aleixandri and Leila Ouahabi).

The game is tough, at the end of the ninety minutes, each team has scored two goals. At the 93 minutes, you manage to take the best on the defender who is marking you, using your full speed after having received a very good pass from Laia. You can hear the crowd screaming, City’s fans encouraging you while Barcelona’s fans are booing. But when you are facing the keeper, you shut everything and send a cannonball in the upper corner of the net. The keeper can’t do anything.

You don’t have time to register that you just scored 1 minute before the end of the adding time, your teammates tackling you on the ground. This is a mix of jersey, hair, hug and pat on the head for several seconds, before the referee ask you to go back to your position to start the game again.

She made you play two minutes more to catch up the time you lost while celebrating, but Barcelona don’t score. Then the whistle resonate in the stadium and you just won the UEFA Champions League. Not knowing how to react, you stay still for many seconds, before someone jump on your back to train you in a group hug.

You don’t stay a long time though, you want to check on Alexia. You easily find your girlfriend sitting on the ground, her jaw clenched. There is no one around her, so you chose to go to see her. You promised each other that you won’t be resentful to the other, whatever the ending of this game is.

So you think nothing more than being a recomfort to your girlfriend when you arrive next to her.

“Hi” you say softly.

You don’t know if Alexia realized your presence before you talk, but the eyes she lays on you aren’t really friendly. But you decide not to stress about it, kneeling next to her to put a comforting hand on her arm.

“You played very well. I’m so proud of you for the way you leaded your team. And this goal was something else.”

You smile, referring to the second goal, a real banger from Alexia. She doesn’t answer anything, so you just continue talking.

“You can be proud of yourself too, you know? You did everything you could and gave all you could. It’s –“

“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

Alexia doesn’t look at you when she cuts you, but you can tell how angry she is just with the tone of her voice. You are surprised enough to stay quiet and she continues.

“Don’t act like you have all the merits on this win. Your team is lucky that some girls are injured and that we don’t have our usual team playing tonight. If we had all the players, we would have crush you. Don’t take your win for what it’s not. You are just lucky, this has nothing to do with talent.”

Well, you didn’t expect that. Alexia has always been supportive of you, but more generally she always has been respectful and fair play to her opponents. You realize that there is Leila and Patri standing behind you when Alexia gets up to go somewhere else.

“Alexia.” Patri says in a tone of reproach.

But your girlfriend doesn’t answer anything, still walking to the Barcelona’s bench. You can only look at her leaving, stunned by her reaction. You take Leila’s hand who helps you to get up.

“Don’t listen to her” Patri says before hugging you. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you” you mumble.

Leila hugs you tightly too, not without looking at Alexia with reproach too. After that, the ceremony has a bitter taste for you, to be honest. It can’t be seen on picture, you are smiling between Alanna Kennedy and Laia, raising the cup or kissing it. Or being kissed on the head by Laia.

But in reality, you just want to talk to your girlfriend. She didn’t look at you when she passed between the two lines of your team when she goes to take her silver medals. And then she just went to the locker room, not even watching you raise the cup. It hurts, as much as her words did.

But you try to be understanding, you know how bad your girlfriend deal with the idea of losing anything, probably taking all the mistakes on herself. You manage to catch her, hair down and wet, before she leaves with her teammates to take the bus to go back to her hotel.

“Alexia!” you call her.

You don’t see her sigh and roll her eyes, which is good otherwise you probably will be hurt a little more. She was walking with Irene and Ona and turn around to look at you. You already talked with the two others after the game, so you smile back at them when they smile to you before leaving both of you.

“What do you want?” Alexia says harshly.

You are a little stunned, by the tone of her voice and the question. But you don’t say anything, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your stomach. Alexia never talked to you that way. You almost never fought since you are together.

“Talk to you? Can we at least have some minutes together?”

There is a moment of silence.

“No. I don’t want to talk or see you right now.”

********

The celebrations are strange after that. You make all the efforts you can to keep a smile on your face and not ruin your teammate’s joy. Alanna and Leila are looking at you with intensity and you’re pretty sure that Leila told to Alanna what happened between you and Alexia. But you manage to keep them away from you enough to be able to leave as soon as Kerstin.

You tried several times to call Ale when you go back to your hotel, but she doesn’t answer. You prefer to think that she’s asleep and not ignoring you. You send her a message after that, hopping to have an answer during the night or in the morning.

You didn’t.

The morning after, when you wake up, you realize that there is no message from Alexia. Your social media are full of notifications but nothing from your girlfriend. You haven’t post anything either, not wanting to upset your girlfriend even more.

You were supposed to stay in Paris, where the finale was played, together for two days before going back to Barcelona. But with Alexia not giving you any news, you are really scared that she chose to go back to Barcelona without you.

After reading the list of your friends in the Barcelona’s team, you chose to try to call Ona. You can’t help but smirk when you hear Lucy’s voice instead of the Spaniard. But your friend comes several seconds after, and you are finally able to ask if she has news from Alexia.

You are relieved to learn that she’s still in Paris, and even more when Ona accepts to make you sneak in the hotel. Your plan is to go buy some flowers and chocolate for your girlfriend; this is her guilty pleasure. You discovered that during the first weeks of dating her.

After some research, you chose the best chocolate shop around your hotel and go to it to buy some. You take some time to select them, being sure that Alexia will enjoy every single one of them. When you are happy with it, you pay the box but add a cute white teddy bear sitting next to the cashier. No one seems to recognize you, which you are glad for. Like this you can take all the time you want.

You decide to walk to go to the florist, situated between the chocolate shop and Alexia’s hotel. The weather is great, sunny but not too hot. It’s still hotter than Manchester though.

The florist is very nice, and you look around while she’s serving other people who were already here when you arrived, right now it’s a family with a small girl smiling at you. You love the smell in here. The roses are amazing, and you ask the florist something with red roses in it. You look at her ease to make a wonderful bouquet with amazement.

“Tout le monde les mains en l’air !“

You hear the shout before you see the man, but the sweet florist’s face is suddenly very white. You don’t understand what was told, so you turn around to look what is happening.

There is a man with his face hidden behind a mask who is pointing a gun in your direction. You are glad that the family with the cute toddler left.

“A genoux!”

You don’t understand and you have to look around to know what he’s asking. The other raised their arms and are now kneeling, while you are still standing without moving.

That seems to make the man very mad. When you turn your eyes to him once again, he says something that might be a swear word. Then there is a sound of gunfire and the pain you feel is worst than anything you felt in your life.

You hit your head hard on the ground and suddenly the people around are screaming, but you don’t understand why. They are talking in French, and you have trouble to understand anything. It seems to you that the man got the money he wanted before leaving. The rush in your ears is very unpleasant and when you look at your chest, you realize that there is a big, red spot on your white shirt.

Suddenly there is a woman kneeling next to you, grabbing your face to make you look at her. It’s the florist.

“Hey! We called the ambulance, they are coming, ok? Stay awake, please.”

“I need to call Alexia” you breath, while taking your phone from your pocket.

“OK. I’ll press something on your stomach to stop the bleeding, ok?”

You just nod. Your hands are shaking while you open your phone, and your vision is blur when you look for your girlfriend’s number. It’s not hard to find though, she’s on the top of your list. You let the phone ring for several longs minutes before accepting the fact that Alexia won’t answer.

“She’s maybe still asleep” the girl points.

“No” you whisper shakily. “She’s mad at me. Those were supposed to be gifts for her”

“I’m sure she’ll love it”

You start to have trouble to breath. You close your eyes and try to take a big breath. You start to feel anxious too. Are you going to die without having heard your girlfriend’s voice a last time? Without being able to tell her how much you love her, how much she means for you?

You suddenly feels very tired, you understand what it’s mean. Fighting to open your eyes, you look for the woman’s eyes before talking. It seems like you don’t speak very loud, because she leans on you to understand.

“Will you tell her that I love her? Please. She always meant the world to me and I’m sorry that she’s so upset. Will you tell her?”

The woman’s eyes are wet when she talks to you.

“You will tell her yourself, Sweetheart.”

You know you won’t be able to. So you need her to promise you.

“Please. There are no words strong enough, but I love her more than anything. Will you give her my presents too? I wrote a card with the bear”

Your words are hard to pronounce, but you manage to say every single one of them, being sure to be understand. The woman nods and you feel relieved.

“I’m sure she loves you too.”

The woman cup your face and you decide to believe her. You close your eyes again and let yourself being wrapped by the memories you have with Alexia. The best of your life.

********

Alexia is sitting in a chair, her head in her hands. Everything seems unreal. Her eyes are red from crying, her throat is dry, and her head is pounding painfully. And she wonders if her breathing will be normal again at a moment.

She feels awful.

She was the worst girlfriend in the world for you and you never deserved it. You took the time to find her to talk to her even if you were probably drunk with the adrenaline of the win. You said sweet words to her, took the time to comfort her and she still had this behavior.

To be fair to her, she was really trying to find a way to come back to you to apologize. She was showering when you tried to call her after being shot, not knowing that you already made a plan with Ona to come to her.

Then, she received the worst call of her life. She’s the number one on your emergency calls so the hospital you were transferred to call her as soon as they could. It was three days ago, and she never left this room since.

You had a surgery and when she arrived in your room at first, you weren’t even here. Then they bring you in it and she learned that you probably won’t make it. But it’s been three days, and you are still here, your brain seems to still work correctly, and your heart is still beating.

You lost a lot of blood though and several of your organs got touched by the bullet. You are healing and it’s only because you are an athlete and in a very good shape that you are still alive.

Just when she thought that nothing could get worse, she received a visit that she didn’t except. She frowns at first when a cute girl entered your room with a teddy bear, a chocolate box and flowers. But then the florist explained to her what you ask her to do and that the precise moment where Alexia lost it.

You parents and Alexia’s mother join you in the hospital to be there for you, but for Alexia too. Ale’s mother never managed to get Alexia out of your room. Alexia sleep on the chair, Alexia eats the awful hospital’s food, Alexia takes shower in the bathroom of your room.

Sometimes she cries, sometimes she just looks at you. No one never heard her voice since she’s here. She’s so hurt that she feels like she can’t speak anymore. She only speaks to you when you both are alone. She’s so hurt, too, that she wants to rip her heart of her chest.

Alexia lost track of time, her mother and your parents left several hours ago now, and the sky is dark. The bips from the monitoring are still in the background, but Alexia doesn’t pay attention to them anymore. Unless they are making strange sounds, like yesterday. Your heart was suddenly in great difficulty.

The nurses explain to her after having stabilized you that it’s because your body need a lot to heal, and it could be hard for your heart.

The Spaniard keeps thinking that her behavior probably had hurt your heart so much that she’s responsible of your state. She is wrong of course, even if she was bad after the game, it’s not in any case of her fault.

When Alexia raises her head again to look at you, you are still with your eyes closed, your skin paler than ever. You are Spanish too, you have a natural tan skin, but now you look… ill. Alexia hates it.

“Mi Amor” she whispers while taking your hand in hers, her throat hurts when she talks. “I know you are doing everything you can to heal and come back. You don’t know what your life means to a lot of people here. Your parents, your family, your friends, your fans… Me, of course. But I don’t know if you steel want me after everything that happened. You got hurt because of me.”

If she wasn’t a little shit, you wouldn’t have been in this flower shop. That’s what she shouts to her sister when Alba tried to make her leave your room. Tears are rolling again on her cheeks, and you would probably kiss them if you were awake.

“I am so sorry. I’ll give everything to be at your place. I’m not able to ask it, but please come back. I need you so much. I don’t know how I am supposed to continue without you. You weren’t at Barcelona, but it’s seems like you are everywhere every time. Everything makes me think about you. I need you. Please. I’m so sorry.”

Alexia lost her father several years ago and it was heartbreaking, of course. Her father was her model when she was younger. Her guide. But you, you are the love of her life and she is convinced that she won’t survive your lost.

“Take the time you need to heal and then I’ll do everything for you to forgive me.”

Tears are rolling freely on her face, but she doesn’t care anymore since a very long time. She rather kisses your hand, relieved to feel the warm of your skin on her lips. Alexia frowns slightly while looking at your fingers though. They had to remove the ring you were usually wearing on your finger; the one Alexia offered you for your one year together. Alexia wears it around her neck on her chain, her fingers being too big to wear it on her finger.

“I love you. I’ll stay with you every second until you wake up.”

She means it and she did it. Even when they were other games played, she never left your side. They talked about transferring you in England, where you live, but Alexia refused, and your parents agreed with her. They never doubt about the love Alexia had for you; you never hide from them how good Alexia treated you during your time together.

You weren’t really aware of that to be honest. You were somewhere over the rainbow, far away from your girlfriend and the one you love. Even if it isn’t the case for Alexia, it’s better for you. Seeing Alexia’s distress would probably break you. You sometimes feel lighter, but you like to think that it’s the time when Alexia takes your hand or kiss it.

********

“We would like to make her try to breath without monitoring. We need to see if she’s able to breath alone.”

“No.”

Alexia’s answer is harsh and cold, but her mother puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Your mother is more diplomatic about her answer.

“Isn’t it risky?”

“Everything is risky” the doctor says, trying to ignore Alexia’s glare. “But her organs are better, and we need to revise her treatment. We will stop the monitoring for an hour, and we will check her oxygen constantly during the process.”

“What if she stops breathing?” Alexia asks.

“The chances are very rare. In fact,…”

“What. If. She. Stops. Breathing.”

Your father smirks when your girlfriend talks again, carefully articulating each of her words with cold anger. He always loved Alexia and he probably loves her even more right now.

“We will put her back on monitoring and try something else.”

Alexia snorts and crosses her arms on her chest. She hates that idea; she hates the idea that they are putting you in danger without any reason. She doesn’t say that it’s bullshit just because her mother is here and she is always careful about the words she chooses when Eli is around.

“I won’t leave her side a single second” she rather informs your medical team.

She doesn’t when they try, her eyes being on the screen with the indicator of your oxygen in your body or on your chest, watching it raise every single time. When one hour is passed and you are still breathing normally, she feels a little better. The medical team decided to let you like this for now, wanting to see if you can make the night.

The night pass and you are still breathing. Then a whole day.

“I’m so proud of you” Alexia whispered against your forehead before kissing it softly.

She explained to her mother how she treated you the next time you saw her, the guilt was eating her alive. Her mother didn’t try to tell her that she’s wrong to feel that way, Eli agreed with Alexia about how bad she was. She nevertheless comforts her daughter with words she knew were true. She remembers to Alexia how much you love her and that you still went to grab her presents before wanting to come to her.

Three days without monitoring and you are still breathing like you are peacefully sleeping. They are still feeding you with your catheter but other than that you don’t need anything to be alive.

Everything was fine and that’s why she panicked when you start to whine suddenly. Hands shaking, she jumps from her chair looking around before pressing the button to call the nurses. She doesn’t know what she managed to say, but the nurses start to talk way to fast in French, one of them taking her phone to call the doctor.

“What is happening?” Alexia asks, her breath almost impossible to take.

“We need you to leave the room for a little time” one of the nurses asks her.

“No way!”

“Alexia…”

Eli’s voice makes her daughter looks around, but the blond doesn’t move. She just shakes her head, informing every single person in the room that she won’t leave you. Bad or good news, she will be here. She needs to be here.

The three women don’t have the time to convince Alexia a little longer, because the doctor suddenly comes into your room, talking in French too and Alexia wonders if she will explode from frustration soon.

She sees several monitors coming into your room too and when your mother-in-law comes to your girlfriend to pass her arms around her shoulder, Alexia looks at her with lost eyes.

“Is that it? Is she dying?” she whispers.

Eli feels her heart break, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know. She just cups her daughter’s face and keep her face on her chest. Eli doesn’t move when Alexia grip her arms pretty hard, tightening her daughter even closer to her, trying to protect your girlfriend from another lost.

The next minutes were agonizing for your girlfriend, and she can’t open her mouth when the doctor comes next to her. She doesn’t understand all the bip from the different monitors around you. She doesn’t know if you are still alive or not.

“She is ok” he says at first, having learn to understand Alexia through the days, and your girlfriend feels like she might faint from relieving. “I think she is trying to wake up. The next hours will be decisive.”

After that, Alexia sits even closer to your face to have a better look at you. Every night her mother goes back to the house Alexia rent for her and your family so they can be close to you.

She hasn’t sleep since more than twenty-seven hours when you move again. But this time you open your eyes and look around. You seem scared, your eyes looking around you.

“Sh Bébé, can you hear me?” Alexia whispers after having regained some composure.

Her hand is on your face, soft like a feather. She manages to calm you quickly and you nod very softly. Alexia sees it anyway.

“You are at the hospital. You are safe, ok? Just try to breath a little slowly.”

You keep looking at her, trying your best to calm yourself. You don’t know how many minutes have passed before you swallow your saliva and open your mouth.

“No. Don’t talk. Keep your energy, ok?” Alexia whispers again.

As your memories come back, you are relieved to see that Alexia is by your side. She looks like she hasn’t sleep or eat in the last two weeks, but you don’t leave her face with your eyes, even when she moves to let the doctor and nurses check several things on you.

You tiredly let them do what they want with you and Alexia never left you with her eyes either. She watches the medical team to be sure they are doing things right with you. When they talk to you in English, you are way to tired to understand what they are saying. Luckily, your girlfriend is here to translate in Spanish.

“They want to know if you are hurt somewhere. Don’t shake your head, just close your eyes two times if you are hurt and one if you are ok.”

You blink slowly one time. You are not hurt, you are tired. Your answer seems to relieve everyone around and you close your eyes to rest when they are talking in English again. Alexia answers something and you trust her to make things right. They are talking for several minutes before the silence is here again.

You open your eyes suddenly, scared that Alexia has left too. But she’s here, typing on her phone, informing your parents and family that you are awake. She seems surprised to see you watching her when she puts her phone down.

“I thought you fall back asleep” she says softly, turning her body to look at you. “Do you want to drink?”

You blink once and she almost run to get you a glass of water from the bathroom. If you were able, you probably have laugh at her. You hope to have a little of water in your mouth can help you to talk. Alexia uses the buttons of the bed to make you seat and is very careful in every of her move to help you drink.

“They said a little bit at time”

You oblige and the feeling is amazing honestly. You look at your girlfriend and you focus on your sentence before talking, not wanting to waste any energy.

“Did you get my presents?”

Your voice is awful, but it’s not a surprise. You don’t really know since when you are here, without talking. But you need to know.

Alexia turns in your direction and suddenly her eyes are wet with tears and her hands are shaking.

“I did. That sweet girl came in here to give them to me the first day. The flowers are here” she points them. “Thank you, even if you shouldn’t needed to get me any of this. We will talk about it later, but Y/N/N I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. You are the sweetest and most perfect girl in the world. And I love you more than anything.”

“Alexia…”

She puts her finger on your lips, putting you in silence.

“Keep your energy for when your parents are coming.”

You roll briefly your eyes and for the first time in weeks, Alexia smiles. Not her sometimes awkward smile, who makes you think about that Friend’s episode where Chandler is supposed to smile for his engagement’s pictures. You always teased her about it.

“I love you more than anything too” you whisper when she takes her finger back. “Stay with me?”

“Of course I will”

You don’t know that she never left your side since you are here. Just like her mother several hours ago, she cups your face with extra care before stroking your hair. Right to her words, Alexia never left you for a second and wait for you to be able to go back to Barcelona for your recovery.

********

Several Months Later.

“What would you think about me coming to play in England?”

In shock, you spit out the pudding you were innocently eating. Like every morning since your hospitalization, Alexia and you are talking over FaceTime while you are eating your breakfast. Like always, Alexia just came back from her morning jogging and is eating her breakfast too.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you ask, the choc passed.

“Me playing in Manchester? I really want to be close to you. I hate being so far away from you and being able to have you in my arms only for two weeks every two months.”

You probably are dreaming or hallucinating. You look at your girlfriend on your screen like if you were waiting for her to tell it’s only a joke. That’s what you are waiting, to be honest.

“Alexia, you will die in the English weather” you point. “And they are eating pudding and beans on a toast for breakfast here, I don’t know how you would survive.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes – just like she hates you do – and seems suddenly to find her tortilla very interesting.

“Don’t you want me there with you?” she asks with insecurity.

Since you got shot, you sometimes have the impression that she’s just waiting for you to break up with her. Something you will never do, how in the world are you supposed to live without your reason to breath?

“That’s not the point Cariño” you assure her with a smile. “I would love to be able to wake up every morning next to you.”

“What is it then?”

She’s almost pouting and you want to squeeze her cheeks with your hands.

“There is something I haven’t talked to you about.”

She looks panicked when she raises her eyes on your, turning your head back on you so quickly that you wonder if she hurts herself.

“What?”

“Don’t be mad, ok?” you begin, starting to eat your porridge again. “But I might have received an offer from Barcelona. I haven’t talk to you about yet because I wanted to be sure that it’s a real offer and that they are serious about it. City seems ok with me coming back to Barcelona, but nothing is signed for now.”

“Do you want it? Coming back?”

You look at your girlfriend thoughtfully. You understand where this question comes from, Alexia just wants to be sure that you are not doing things for her, but for you and your career.

“I miss Barcelona. I miss the Spanish weather, I miss my family… Sure I’ll miss Laia and Leila and the RFEF is still shit, but I want to give it a try.”

“Ok” Alexia smiles.

You can see that she’s thinking about something, but you don’t pressure her to talk. You know that it will comes when she will be ready. You finish your breakfast, talking about everything and nothing while Alexia looks at you from the corner of her eyes. The thoughts haunting her mind come out loud several minutes later.

“Are you going to go back to your parent’s?”

“Like living with them?” you raise an eyebrow before continuing when Alexia nods. “No, of course not. I’m 24 years old, I’m way to old to live with my parents again” you laugh softly. “Why?”

“I was thinking that there’s enough room in my closet for both of us. If you want it.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you smile tenderly.

“Yes, if you want to?”

“I would love it, Ale.”

______________________________________________________________

To be honest with you I wanted to make R died but I can't stand a sad Alexia.

[mysteriawrites]

Hi lovely, thank you for doing a trade with me! Below is my info, and I’ll request a male match from Genshin Impact, please! If you need anything else let me know.

- Gender: Cis female, she/her

- Zodiac: Aquarius

- Appearance: 5’4, light blonde hair & green eyes. I’m toned/muscular, but still pretty skinny. I have tan skin from living on the coast my entire life, and freckles on my nose and shoulders.

- MTBI: ENFJ-A

- Enneagram: 8w7

- Personality: Confident, outspoken, sociable, logic-driven. High self esteem & self worth, independent. I’ve been told (& I agree) that I speak with a very sharp and blunt tone that comes off rude and sarcastic, even if I’m not trying to be. I try to have a lot of patience, but it often does not work. Flirty, sometimes without realizing, but also just because I really do enjoy attention. Talkative & hyper at times. Physically cannot sit still for more than 20 minutes.

- Likes: Music, dance, writing, modeling, meeting new people, the beach, parties, planning events, learning.

- Dislikes: Complaining (especially when the person is doing nothing to try to fix their problem), people with no regard for those around them, bugs, weird food textures, stubbornness, unnecessary things

- Giving love language: Gifts (usually just small things that I see when I’m out, like their favorite snack at a gas station)

- Receiving love language: Physical touch (Generally, I hate being touched. Cannot stand it. It takes me a long time to get comfortable enough with someone for touching, but when I do I enjoy it. Only at certain times, though, because there will be times I don’t even want to be touched by whoever I’m dating.), Words of affirmation (I get incredibly insecure in relationships, lots of past issues, so fun. Consistent reassurance is definitely needed because I get an attitude)

- Extras: I am a model & my income comes from booking shoots. I have naturally curly hair. If it’s in the arts, I can do it (singing, art, instruments, dance). I have been a dancer and cheerleader since I was 2, so about 18 years. I have PNES & have seizures when I am too stressed out. I go to the gym & work very hard to maintain my image and keep my face and body healthy to maintain modeling

Thanks so much for doing the trade with me. DRUMROLL PLEASE!!!

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

KAEYA!!!

I think you and Kaeya would be a rather interesting couple. He would be able to see past your blunt exterior and see not just a confident, strong, and powerful woman, but also a soft heart that has her own doubts and struggles as well.

No one knows 100% how you and Kaeya met, maybe at a tavern, maybe at a party, who knows. However since then you and Kaeya have had this sort of rivalry going on.

By day you were a beautiful dancer who would perform in taverns and town square of monstadt, but by night you were a vigilante. A masked heroine of the night who tried her best to take care of the crimes and problems of the town that the knights couldn’t.

Every time Kaeya came to take care of a problem around town or catch a criminal you would already have wrapped things up long ago and be on your way out. Every time before you made your escape you would share some flirty banter.

One night you were overviewing the town from the rooftops when you heard footsteps behind you. You whipped around ready to fight off whoever it was, when Kaeya stepped out of the shadows.

You two ended up talking for hours up there until you heard a cry for help down below. Before you took off to go take care of it he asked if you guys could keep meeting up there, and you agreed.

And so every night you two would hang out and talk on the rooftops of Monstadt. Sometimes you guys would talk, sometimes you would have dinner together, and sometimes you two would just sit and silence and watch the stars until there would be a call for help, or if it was a quiet night then it would last till sunrise.

One night Kaeya was waiting for you in your usual spot. Tonight was an odd night because you weren’t there yet. Normally you were always the first one to get there, even when he left early, so the fact that you weren’t here set off red flags. Then he smelled it: smoke.

He took off in the direction of the black clouds to see a house set a blaze in Springvale. He dashed towards the disaster to help in whatever way he could. Amongst the crowd he heard that the famous masked crusader had gone in to save a few people who made it out safely, but the hero had yet to return.

Using his cryo vision Kaeya frantically made he was through the flames in search for you. He had to hurry as the house was falling down around him. Even if he put the fires out it was too much. Just when he was about to give up hope heard small coughs coming from the room in front of him. He dashed for the knob to find you surrounded by a sea of fire and unconscious.

When next you woke up you were in the healing ward of the church, your arms covered in bandages, a patch on your head, a raging headache, but most important at all no mask. In a panic frenzy you tried to remove yourself from the bed when you realized that next to you sat a sleeping Kaeya holding your hand protectively.

He stirred awake at the motion, looked up at you and smiled at the fact that you had awoken. He that after he saved you the nuns had worked tirelessly to save you (smoke inhalation go brrrr) and not to worry about them knowing your identity because he had removed you mask earlier (so you could breathe easier) and didn't tell them your identity.

After you two had reached a moment of silence Kaeya had admitted that he was terrified of losing you. When he found you in the fire barely breathing, he realized that he didn't want to live in a world without you. He said that he wouldn't waste time anymore. He asked you if you would go out with him, and you said yes.

And now you two have a happy playful relationship and are now both officially part of the knights of Favonius saving lives every day.

Sorry this took so long but I hope you like it.

[solalunar-eclipse]

(Avocado) Horizon Line

Chapter 1: A Heart of Logic and Empathy

AO3 Link

Summary: Due to an unfortunate accident, Avelyn finds herself injured and stuck in a stranger's house in the middle of nowhere. Eco, meanwhile, is just trying to deal with having another person living in their home. Under other circumstances, neither of them would have guessed that they'd get along so well, but maybe with time, they'll find out that this accident wasn't so unfortunate after all...?

(The world of Deltarune belongs to Toby Fox, Avelyn and Link belong to @pukeseven, and Eco and Click belong to @brightgoat.)

High above the dark sea, a biplane weaves amongst the green light cast by the grid that stretches across the sky. The plane’s pilot steers it through a series of increasingly complex maneuvers, showing off the fact that she is extremely skilled. (She knows it, too.)

However, all the skill in the world isn’t enough to help her when a critical component in the engine, weakened from all of the back to back long-distance flights across the water, stops working entirely.

As the plane begins to lose altitude at dangerously high speeds, the pilot struggles to eject, only to discover that this is one of the systems that has failed her. Left with no other options, she works to maneuver her aircraft into a glide, fighting to bring it closer to the faint lights of the shore in the distance in hopes that someone will see her.

Clinging to the yoke with all her remaining strength, she braces for impact—

…

“NEMMUY…”

“Good night to you too, Flash.” 

Eco smiled at the pod of poppups that lived in the channel of water by their house, taking their time to give each one their own special good night. This was one of the few routines of theirs that they maintained with each new pod of poppups that passed through their house, and they liked to think that it made each member of the pod feel special and loved. To be fair, it also helped them to grow up into healthy and friendly advertisement companions, but they’d be lying if they said that was the only reason they did this each and every evening.

They waved at the entire group one last time, before walking away somewhat reluctantly. It was always sad for them to say goodbye to their beloved creatures, even just for a night.

Suddenly, a loud crash resounded nearby, startling some of the younger poppups out of their sleep and making the scientist’s fins shoot up in surprise.

“Really?!” Eco hissed to themselves, their heart racing. “I just got the little ones to settle down!”

They hurried back over to the channel once again. “Flash, Ink, Escape, you three take care of the little ones, alright? Everybody, behave yourselves while I’m gone.” As much as they would have liked to stay and comfort their poppups, they had to make sure that…whatever that was…didn’t pose a threat to anyone.

The ad-creatures were abnormally silent and wide-eyed, clearly frightened by this unexpected occurrence. Eco offered up a small, sharp grin in response. “Hey, don’t worry! I’ve got this under control!” they insisted.

Then, they raced off to go see who or what had dared to disturb their pod. Sand wasn’t generally the best surface to run on, but Eco was used to it enough that even in their high-tops, it hardly slowed them down at all.

Once they saw the smoke rising in the distance, however, their speed only increased, but now fueled by fear instead of frustration. No matter how annoying the noise had been, the scientist could never stand to see anyone get hurt. They’d always been that way for as long as they could remember—it was part of why they were so good at caring for poppups.

As Eco skidded to a stop in front of the wreckage littering their beach (their poor beach!), they offhandedly noted that it resembled a modified amphibious plane, retrofitted for light cargo flights. The scientist didn’t know much about airplanes, but they did at least know that light cargo transports…were still required to have pilots.

And at that very moment, they noticed the one thing that definitely didn’t match the rest of the wreck—a flash of reddish-orange amongst the twisted metal. Quickly making their way over and around the broken remains, they found an unfortunate Addison trapped inside what had most likely once been the pilot’s seat.  

With a decent amount of effort on their part, they managed to shift the broken pieces enough to get the Addi free, lifting them up in their arms. The pilot was completely unconscious, but thankfully seemed to have been protected from the brunt of the crash by their cockpit and flight gear. Their ankle did seem to be swelling slightly, though, and Eco knew they’d have to take a look at that once they got back to their house.

Once they were sure that the other was secure, they rushed back the way they’d come, slipping slightly more on the sand now that they carried an extra weight. Careful not to jostle the mysterious pilot, they called for another member of the pod, Tracker, to come and help open the door to their house as they approached.

“What are you even doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” Eco muttered to the unconscious Addison.

Gently laying them down on the sofa, the scientist began to heal what injuries she could, switching to her first aid kit once her magic began to falter. There was only so much she could do, anyhow, given that the pilot had some nasty scrapes plus a twisted ankle. Quite frankly, they’d been extraordinarily lucky as it was.

Once she’d done all she could, Eco ran out quickly to settle her pod down once more before they slept. “Don’t worry, guys!” she reassured them. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ve fixed everything up, I promise.”

They seemed plenty reassured by that, given that one or two had even fallen asleep by the time she’d finished checking on them. For that, at least, she was grateful.

Then, she came back and sat down on the couch next to her unexpected guest, keeping watch over them until they woke up.

She didn’t have to wait long, as it turned out—only half an hour. In a fraction of a second, the pilot jolted from sleep intto full awareness, gasping. Their eyes darted around, and they began to push themselves upright…only to be startled again by the sight of Eco. This time, they glared directly at her, scrambling into an upright position (and wincing as their injuries clearly flared up).

“Hey, take it easy!” Eco cried. “You’re going to hurt yourself all over again!”

The other Addison simply continued to glower. “And why do you care?” they snapped. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me and my plane alone.

Eco sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly. She really didn’t have time for all of this—she had enough on her plate with this pilot’s presence alone, without also having to convince them that she wasn’t the bad guy in this scenario. “Listen, if you want to be like that, could you just go do it to someone else who didn’t save your life? I literally just finished patching you up after you crash-landed on my beach.”

“Crash-landed? I—” The Addison sprang up off the couch. “Oh, god! Airdr—owwww…” They winced, lifting their twisted ankle off the ground.

“Didn’t you hear me earlier?” Eco said, giving them a stern look as they sank back down onto the sofa. “You’re going to hurt yourself more if you keep acting like that!”

“Fine…” they muttered. 

Eco folded her arms, not ready to let up just yet. “You have sustained severe bruises across your entire body, mild lacerations on your arms and side, and damaged your ankle. I would not recommend doing any kind of strenuous physical activity whatsoever for the near future.”

“Geez, not pulling any punches with that, huh?” the pilot said. They sat there in silence for a moment, but then sighed. “Sorry. I was just rushing home after a massive delivery job, looking forward to resting…and now I wake up in a stranger’s house with a busted ankle and an even more busted plane. Not exactly the way I was hoping to spend my night, but none of that’s your fault.”

The pilot cracked their first smile since waking up—a small one, seeming slightly embarrassed now. “I’m Avelyn, she/her. Nice to meet ya. And, uh, sorry again for snapping earlier.”

“Eco, she/they. You too, and thank you.” the teal Addi replied, feeling some of the tension in the room dissipate.

A moment of mildly uncomfortable silence passed before Eco remembered what hosts were typically supposed to do. “Can I…I don’t know, get you anything?” they asked awkwardly.

“Some water’d be nice. I feel drier than a desert right now.” Avelyn sighed, sinking back into the couch.

Quickly, Eco darted off into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, which the pilot downed in one go. It was only after they’d come back again with a refill that they thought of another question to ask.

“Hey, is the couch comfortable enough for you to sleep on? If not, I have an air mattress…or I could take the air mattress, and you could take the bed…”

“The air mattress oughta be enough for me, thanks.” Avelyn said, smiling again. “Damn, you’re being awfully nice to someone who just smashed up your beach, yelled at you, and basically pushed her way into your house, aren’t ya?”

Eco grinned sheepishly, not having expected a compliment like that. “Oh, really? I’m actually surprised you think so! My friend always says I don’t know the first thing about having people in my house. He’s kind of been giving me tips…in between the sass.” They rolled their eyes, recalling the numerous choice words said friend had had for them over the years. “And the fact that you got hurt wasn’t your fault, after all, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t be decent, you know?”

“Well, maybe because I wasn’t exactly decent to you? But, uh, I appreciate that you’re not takin’ it out on me. And by the way, that guy sounds like a real charmer.” the reddish Addison muttered, rolling her eyes. 

“He likes to think he is, but I would personally beg to differ.” Eco elaborated. “He wouldn’t like me saying this, but he’s actually a dork most of the time.”

Avelyn snickered. “You roast all your other friends like this?”

The scientist frowned, genuinely confused. “Other…friends? I mean, I have my pod, but he’s the only Addison I spend time with.”

The pilot’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh geez, I’m sorry!”

“What for?” Eco asked, not bothered in the slightest. “I don’t need that many people in my life—I have him, and now you’re here to stay for a while…honestly, I think that’s about as many Addis as I can handle at a time!”

Avelyn tilted her head. “Well, you don’t need to worry about me, really. I can take care of myself!”

Suddenly, a distinct growling noise came from the general area of her stomach, and she visibly cringed. “That is, if you happen to have a kitchen ‘round here somewhere…”

Eco perked up at the sight of a distinct goal once more. “Indeed I do! Why don’t I make you something and show you around?”

Avelyn made a valiant effort to stand up, but couldn’t rest any weight on her left ankle at all. Eco frowned for a moment, before their fins shot straight up. “I almost forgot! Hang on, wait right there!”

“Not like I can really go anywhere…” the pilot muttered, but Eco had already dashed out of the room. 

They rushed up the stairs to their room, dug their old crutch out of the closet, and then raced back into the living room, before pushing the crutch on Avelyn eagerly. “There! Now you should be able to walk just fine.”

“…should I be concerned that you just happen to have this on hand?” she asked, raising one eyebrow warily.

“Oh, not at all!” Eco chirped, already heading towards the doorway they’d previously used. “I just got mauled by a sidebar shark once, had to use that for a week or two until my leg healed up. But now I have a really neat scar, so it was all fine in the end.”

Avelyn just stared for a second, dumbstruck, before following the scientist through the door. 

“So, this is my little kitchen-slash-dining room, and over there’s my medbay. It’s mostly for my poppups in case they get hurt or sick, but I’ve used it once or twice myself.” they explained. 

“Oh, so you’re a poppup breeder?” Avelyn asked.

Eco grimaced. “I don’t love the term breeder…I’m more of a caretaker, personally. I let them do what they need to do, teach them what they don’t know, give them a safe place to live until they’re needed. That kind of thing.”

The reddish-orange Addi smiled briefly. “That does sound nicer than most breeders I’ve heard of.”

Their wince switched abruptly to a beaming smile. “And I’m proud of it!” they declared, thinking happily on all the poppups they’d helped raise to maturity over the years.

“Oh, right, back to the tour.” Eco continued, gesturing towards the stairs. “I don’t want to make you go up and down those any more than you have to, so just know that up there’s my bedroom and office. I’ll run up and get you the air mattress so you don’t have to climb the stairs every night and morning.”

“Hang on, didn’t you say you had food in this house?” Avelyn interrupted.

“Oh! The food!” Eco slapped a hand to her forehead, eyes wide. “Here, let me see—” she began rummaging around in her cabinets—“would you be…partial to…some soup? I have a can or two of that…”

“Sounds good to me.” Avelyn said.

“Excellent!” Eco cheered, attempting to sit up and promptly knocking her head into the top of the cabinet, given that she hadn’t gotten fully out yet. “Oh, damn…don’t want two of us injured here.” she muttered.

“Are you alright?” Avelyn asked, stifling a giggle. 

“Yeah, I just don’t go down there very often.” Eco said, shuffling a few more things around in order to gather up what she needed. “Oof, I really need to organize this place sometime…” she added, mildly embarrassed now that she actually had a relative stranger over and looking at the moderate mess of her house. 

As soon as she’d gotten out, she shot upright, putting a pan on her small stove and setting everything up. “Yeah, but soup’s good, actually,” she said, half to herself, “not a lot of work…”

“You talkin’ to me?” the pilot asked, sounding more than a little bewildered.

“Oh! No, sorry, I just talk to myself sometimes.” Eco explained, shrugging. “Comes with the territory when you live out by yourself, you know?”

Avelyn blinked. “You sure you’re not a…mad scientist, by any chance?”

“I…don’t think so.” Eco said, answering the question completely seriously. “Click calls me that as a joke sometimes, but I have too many morals and ethical constraints to be a true mad scientist.”

“…Click? Wait, is your friend from earlier Click?!”

“You know him? How?” Eco exclaimed. 

“He and I hang out when I’m in town sometimes—how did you meet him?”

“He heard me talking about Addison code at some conference-type thing and wouldn’t leave me alone until I talked to him about it.” Eco laughed at the memory. “After that, we just…never stopped talking, I guess!”

“Who would’ve thought?” Avelyn muttered, shaking her head. “I guess you’re not such a stranger after all.”

“Soup’s all heated up!” the scientist declared, before replying, “He might come over while you’re here. Or he might not! He’s been pretty busy lately with that new partner of his.”

“Ooh, a partner?” Avelyn asked, sitting down as Eco poured the soup into two bowls. “I haven’t heard about that!”

“He refuses to tell me much of anything over text.” they said, before adding, “But I do know it’s his boss.” They accentuated the last word with a smirk, and Avelyn gasped appropriately.

“No! Link?!” she cried. “I’ve been away for ages on work, I didn’t even know they were into each other! How have I missed this?”

Eco grinned. “I did know Click had the hots for Link—he would not shut up about them the last couple times we talked! It was kind of annoying, but also a little cute, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh, they’re definitely going to be super cute together!” Avelyn added, grinning. “Please tell me he at least told you how they got together.”

“Yeah, he did do that. He actually panic-texted me the same night it happened…” the teal Addison began, launching into the story as the two sat down to eat.

They talked for hours, but eventually the two began to grow exhausted, and headed off to set up Avelyn’s bed and then to sleep.

After Eco had gotten her new guest all set up, she turned to leave, but was stopped by the sound of Avelyn’s voice. “I don’t think I ever properly thanked you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You let a total stranger into your home…bandaged me up, got me food, made me feel welcome…and I haven’t even had the decency to say thank you. I guess I’m not used to this kind of hospitality, but that’s still no excuse. So, thank you. For all of this.”

Eco blushed slightly, equally unused to this level of attention and thoughtfulness. “Oh! Of—of course! I’m happy to help!”

“I appreciate it.” Avelyn replied warmly. “And…I hope you sleep well.”

“You too!” Eco replied, before leaving the room herself to (at last, several hours later than expected) go to sleep.

[lususnatura]

“ everything will be okay, i promise. but you need to talk to me.”

andie had said something to him — blamore knew that much, at least — but it sounded like she was speaking through a tunnel in his perspective. her voice had acquired a rather uncanny echoey quality to it, after all, that almost made it sound garbled. the logical side of blamore's brain told him that this was probably due to him going through some sort of emotional shock; a thing that, unfortunately, really wasn't all that uncommon for someone who'd just experienced trauma. blamore remained looking down at one of the wilted flowers that its attacker had pulled from its ribs within its hand. it hated thinking about that word in this context, he thought. for the person who had come into his greenhouse that day... they still found a way to hurt him, despite the fact that he was supposed to be able to protect himself now.

people really were no good to him. especially when they're desperate and want something that you told them you can't give them. blamore was honestly conflicted between feeling like he was about to explode from anger and cry out in pain. the flora that was now missing from its body ached like nothing had in years. because when push came to shove, blamore's attacker had removed something from him that it had actually come to admire after a long time of looking at himself in the mirror, and feeling all wrong about what he saw. there was a certain kind of horror in having a part of your bodily autonomy stripped from you. but after reaching the conclusion that nature was indiscriminate in the way it both offered and took life from people, blamore had found some comfort in that. it did essentially mean that what happened to it wasn't personal.

so, it was like just as he was starting to come to peace with what his body looked like now, the fates decided to turn the tables on him. blamore was also in a significant amount of physical pain, and no one here seemed to understand how to help it. so, his desire to see nico morselli right now was like somewhat of a scared kid's: it was all blamore could think about now to the point where it just wanted to hide away from everyone and everything else. burgeon felt very unlike himself, with the way he was curled up with his knees up to his chest and buried his face into them. it needed something to help ground it, but instead, he was being grilled by some new vigilante he'd never seen before.

and lord knows how much disdain blamore felt towards them in general. he moved his body to the side to further avoid having to look at andie, then, and try one last time to shoot her a message that it wasn't interested in talking. ❝ go away. you don't even know the first thing about me, so how could you promise me anything? ❞ a mix between a contemptuous scoff and a half-hearted chuckle left it's mouth, ❝ bring your amis cochons (pig friends) with you too. i never asked to file a police report, so i have no idea why you brought them here. but they'll never be welcome in my home. ❞

[charmixpower]

What do you think the internal dynamics of the Specialists are? Like towards each other personally and also tactically on the field

Ok, I'm gonna try and make this short or else we're gonna be here all week

My first specialist ask I can't needlessly include Nabu (my love) in XDD

Combat Dynamics

Aka the short part

Sky:

Small hc but Sky at first didn't like swords because he was scared of hurting people but having their son be a RF specialist was good pr so his parents just decided he would be

Sky is good at working with someone, his decision making skills are piss poor (see: the show) but he can follow orders and stick to a plan like no one else so he usually handles the main threat or goes for the objective

His main combat skills is dueling, he's fucking amazing at it

Brandon:

Brandon is the leader because I say so. He's better at commutation and leading in general. He easily keeps track of everyone's skills and helps everyone work together despite their differences

His role in combat is usually crowd control with his broad sword, and his secondary is mostly used to taking people out rather than keeping them at bay

He has the most experience in combat

Timmy:

Handles the more technical aspects but isn't much of a combat planner. He can plan how to make defensives, but cant plan how to fight if that makes sense. Like the s2 planning is how to deal with a incoming threat, but he can't lead an army and call out mid combat commands like Tecna could

Prefers the ship or not being on the ground in the fight in general

Main combat skill is sharp shooting with literally anything you give him

Riven:

Riven is good at real fights. Like ones without rules, where the only objective is to win and not get hurt/survive. Most of his skills aren't legal moves in RF but they are useful as fuck

He's also good at breaking into places but he's shit at sneaking which is hilarious, but he's amazing at distractions

His combat skills lie mostly in fights where he can use his environment to his advantage

Helia:

Helia is actually the one who is surprisingly good at commanding mid battle he just hates it and refuses to do it bc he makes him scared

He's nervous and avoids the spotlight for fear of fucking up but has been so entrenched in this stuff for his whole life that he can pretty easily think about these things. It's like a logic puzzle

Main combat skills are his strings, and witch magic, he's also good at medic stuff which is a hc I picked up from somewhere else I can't remember I am sorry

Preface! Who is closest to who?

Nabu can finally be included!!

I try to keep these all balanced bc I feel bad if someone is everyone's least favorite

It's like a puzzle, I figure out everyone strongest ties and just fill in the spaces from there

Sky:

Brandon, Timmy, Nabu, Helia, Riven

Brandon:

Sky, Riven, Timmy, Nabu, Helia

Timmy:

Helia, Sky, Brandon, Riven, Nabu

Helia:

Timmy, Nabu, Riven, Sky, Brandon

Riven:

Nabu, Brandon, Helia, Timmy, Sky

Nabu:

Riven, Helia, Sky, Brandon, Timmy

Personal relationships

Sky & Brandon

S1: Their relationship is p complicated actually. There's a lot of co dependacy that was sorta forced on them. Sky straight up has never been allowed to function on his own, always having someone assigned to watch him, and Brandon hasn't been allowed to exist without being in charge of something. So they're relationship is complicated. On top of that, Sky recognizes most of what his parents say as bullshit, he's just too scared of them to do anything, but Brandon doesn't! So that's a dimension. They care a lot about each other but their up bringing makes life complicated

S2: Sky and Brandon are starting to separate from each other. They're still best friends but they've both be introduced to the idea of boundaries and are considering implementing them. It's slow going and they both miss having a "roll" and always having someone they can just expect to go along with them. Co-depdant relationships are comforting, and trying to move away is hard, they both end up trying to continue the same co dependacy with their partners, which is not good for either Bloom or Stella because both of them are EXTREMELY SUSPECTABLE to this kind of thing, its a bit of a mess. They both need real identifies outside of the ones assigned to them

S3: THEY HAVE SEPARATED AND ARE HEALING AND HAVE THEIR OWN IDENTIES AND ARE STILL BEST FRIENDS!!! Its still hard for them to see each other normally, and they feel very safe and comfortable when in each other's presence bc of their past dynamic, but they are being separate people. Sky's unfortunate mind control by his parents into the roll they want from him really scared him into trying to be his own person, when previously he was the one who struggled the most with it

Sky & Timmy

S1: They get along. Timmy appreciates that Sky protects him from bullies, and Sky just finds Timmy cool to be around

S2: Now that Timmy has begun growing a back bone he goes "Hey why are you hovering over me? I can handle myself now. Don't you have your own problems to worry about?" Sky has a LOT of anxious energy and he is channeling it into other people and Timmy no longer wants to deal with that

S3: Timmy thinks Sky is a fucking dumbass of the highest caliber (big fucking affectionate) and will help his friends destroy anyone who hurts him. They're on equal footing now, no weird dynamics, all is good

Sky & Riven

S1: Mutually don't like each other. Riven is paranoid and Sky has a tendency to just say shit, so they constantly but heads due to miscommunication

S2: Riven doesn't like him but Sky is intent on mother henning the depressed onion. He lets it slip that he thinks Sky would want him dead, Sky is horrified, and Riven thinks he's just trying to save face

S3: Riven finally believes that Sky's attempts at friendship are genuine, and steps in to comfort him after mind control trauma. They are friends

Sky & Helia

S2: Helia is standoffish but deferres to Sky and doesn't bother questioning enough that Sky never really feels the need to make a thing out of the fact Helia doesn't talk to people...they're very neutral about each other

S3: Helia has come out of his shell as the chaos gremlin he is and tries to fucking drop Erendor no hesitation. They still don't talk much but they consider themselves ride or die

Brandon & Timmy

S1: Protects Timmy from bullies but also tries to gently coax him into being more assertive, something Timmy didn't want him to do at the time. So he's thankful that he's so nice but also is aggressively hiding in his comfort zone

S2: Brandon's lack of coddling is a breath of fresh air, and he's also someone that Timmy can just have a conversation with without huge biases, fuck yeah

S3: They are vibing. Brandon doesn't quite believe Timmy when he says Tecna is out there like Sky does, but he's willing to hear him out. Mutual trust and understanding

Brandon & Riven

S1: Brandon is the only person Riven will listen to and the only person Riven respects. Riven reminds Brandon a lot of himself when he was early into being a servant, first fighting assassins, dealing with awful rich ppl. Brandon goes out of his way to try and include Riven and make him feel comfortable in the group. He recognizes Riven's behavior as a coping mechanism, a bad one that hurts people but one none the less, so has the easiest time interacting with him. Riven feels Brandon is the only person in the school that actually cares

S2: Brandon being the most emotionally intelligent has allowed him to be a VERY important part of Riven's post Darcy support system. Helping Riven keep up with the stuff he learned in therapy, helping him cope better. Fun stuff. Unfortunately for Brando, Riven is officially clear headed enough to point out that Brandon seems to think he's inherently of less value than Sky. Not like as his job, but like as a person. And is now picking at all of Brandon's long held propaganda, which makes Brandon SO fucking uncomfortable. Brandon's personality and mode of functioning has been severely impacted by the conditioning he went through, the fact that he's definitely killed someone, dealing with rich people who do whatever they want. Brandon carefully hides these from normal people, and Riven is like "if they don't like the real you then fuck them. Your trauma isn't your fault."

S3: FRIENDS!! They kick each other when they fall back into bad habits. Riven tries his best to communicate to Brandon when Erendor and Samara go to Valtor, that they've always been awful and that his conditioning was child abuse. He's supporting Brandon now. Riven doesn't understand all the political stuff but he can yell Brandon's own words back at him. Riven positively loses it when he finds out that Brandon has been kidnapped and held in a cell before (I still can't believe that's canon) and Brandon appreciates him

Brandon & Helia

S2: The way Brandon introduces Helia implies he doesn't like him which I think is fucking hilarious. I think they both recognize what the other is like and because their so similar they piss each other off because they keep stepping on each other's toes. I also think it would be really funny if the two smart chill planners had a secret beef going on. Brandon doesn't vibe with Helia knowing so much about him without talking, Helia doesn't vibe with the colder aspects of Brandon's personality that was developed though training. Self Identification though the other /neg

S3: they're far more comfortable with expressing themselves now and have unfortunately for everyone else figured out they have a similar sense of humor. Brandon will fuck with people, and Helia will commit to the bit. God help the fool who draws both of their attention at once

Riven & Helia

S2: Helia sees depressed s2 Riven and goes "we are friends now" and Riven just has to deal with it. Helia was first interested in Riven bc Saladin specifically mentioned him the most often as a victim, so Helia wanted to look out for him and it spiraled out of control form there. They're both willing to go ape shit but in different ways, this is their friendship

S3: Chaotic dumbass friends. Riven aggressively has been bitching at Helia to actually talk to the rest of the specialists, much to the local hermit's distaste, and then found out they were cool. He is now Significantly more unhinged. Woe

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens in Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 1

Word Count: 4,885

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut, Drinking (all the good stuff)

Notes: Well here it is the new fic that’s been in my head. I tossed around a couple different guys for this, but some of you suggested Marky and well looks like it stuck. Trying to do this a little different and keep this in an all read POV, so we shall see how that works. I don’t see this being super long maybe between 5 or 6 parts. Hope you guys enjoy. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps but whoever 'they' is, well, they got it wrong. It has to be Vegas. Lights are always flashing whether you were indoors or out, the jangly sound of slot machines can be heard at all hours and the seven deadly sins seem to be on full display twenty-four hours a day. It's no wonder their tagline for years was 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' If only that were true.

You wish you could blame someone else but you can't. Vegas was all your idea. As maid of honor, it fell to you to plan your best friend's bachelorette party, and in your mind, there was only one spot, Vegas. Now, you were second-guessing your choice as your head was pounding like there were a thousand drummers who decided to perform at the Super Bowl halftime show, only in your brain. There was only one thought that made it through the marching band playing in your head. What the hell happened last night?

 Maybe you should start off small, like where were you first, considering that the little drummer boy was now doing backflips in your head. You were definitely in bed, which was evident as you could feel the mattress underneath you. You could also feel the duvet comforter covering your body, but there was something else. Something a bit heavier, almost as if a weighted blanket was covering your stomach and your breast, but it wasn't that. It was an arm slung across your midsection and a very large hand cupping your one boob. God, you hoped it was still attached to a body. You should really take a peek. It would be the only decent thing to do.

 As you gradually lifted one eyelid open, the first thing you noticed was that you were not in your hotel room, as the wall looked completely different. No reason to panic, you told yourself. Everything would come back to you as soon as this god blessed pounding ceased. Peering the other eye open, you got back to business at seeing if there was a body attached to the arm currently trapping you to the bed. Carefully, you turned your head to the side to see a very large and very naked man firmly attached to the aforementioned arm. He was gorgeous as he lay there sleeping ever so peacefully. You drank in his features, kind of like you downed drink after drink last night. His brown hair had this golden hue to it that made your fingers want to reach out and touch it, though you refrained. Then there was the beard covering his face, not too much and not too little, and now that you were thinking about it; you definitely felt some of that beard burn on your thighs. If you could only remember last night. The only logical thing to do was to go back to the start of this, back to a time when you were sober.

 It started months ago when your best friend Kennedy got engaged. You honestly didn't see it coming that fast. She'd only been dating Ryan for a little less than a year, but he asked and she said yes, and when she asked you to be her maid of honor you screamed and laughed and cried, and told her you couldn't wait to plan her bachelorette party. Everyone knew the bridal shower was only for boring stuffy old aunts so that they could buy her the latest air fryer or new dish pattern. The bachelorette party was where all the fun was, and what better place to have it than Las Vegas.

 Of course, everyone agreed with you. The only wrench in the plan was that Kennedy decided to up her wedding date and make it a nine-month engagement. That barely left time to find a dress let alone plan the most outrageous bachelorette party of the century. You would've said decade but twenty-twenty was fastly approaching. Thankfully, you had connections. Night one was more sedate since you all were just arriving at the MGM hotel at different times; eleven of you in total when Ryan's sister decided to join at the last minute. You booked a private room at Lago in the Bellagio for all of you to enjoy.

 It was the second night, that was the piece de resistance. A limo picked you all up and took you over to Excalibur to see the legendary Australian group, Thunder from Down Under. I mean what was Vegas without seeing a male stripper or two. The next day, a private bungalow was waiting for you at Wet Republic in the MGM Hotel. One would've thought the night watching men strip naked would've been your undoing but apparently, it all started poolside.

 "I seriously can't believe he pulled you up on stage and proceeded to dry hump you up there," Kelsey rehashed.

 "Really, Kels?" Kennedy said downing another mimosa. "How could you not see that happening? (Y/N) has known Nate for a couple years. I mean he did get us front row tickets." This was all true. Nate, the emcee for Thunder from Down Under and you were friends, had been since your firm had done their calendar shoot two years ago. He had generously given you prime seating to the show that night and also set you up with a few other perks for the trip. "The only thing I'm surprised at, is that this one," she bumped you with her hip, spilling both hers and your mimosas. "Didn't end up going home with him last night."

 "Oh my god, Kenny you did not just say that." She may be the bride and your best friend but really, she was pushing the line.

 "Come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before."

 At least four pairs of eyes turned towards you, Ryan's sister Gretchen being one of them. "Ok, admittedly, I slept with him, once." Both Kennedy and Kelsey gave you that look. "Ok, maybe it was twice, but he has a girlfriend now, and we are just friends."

 "I'll give you that," Jade spoke up in your defense and suddenly she was going to earn the title of new best friend, not that the lines weren't blurred in your little group as you were all sort of best friends. "But what about Edward, the one with the turtle tattoo on his hip."

 "You were so looking at more than his hip." Eva teased while Jade simply hid behind her champagne glass. "But yeah (Y/N), he was totally hitting on you."

 "He was not."

 "Oh, he was," Kennedy added her two cents. "And as the bride I take offense, they should've been hitting on me."

 "Wait, why would they hit on you?" Jade sputtered. "You're taken bitch." Of course, bitch was said in the most loving way.

 "I'm not dead."

 "No, but I'm sure my brother wouldn't appreciate it." Leave it to Gretchen to be the mood killer. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. I'll meet you at the pool later."

 She headed out the door, and honestly, you were ecstatic about it, for she was too judgmental for your liking.  "Wait, Gretch, that's not what I meant."

 "Leave her go, maybe a nap would do her good." They were Jade's words but your sentiments. "Now back to why (Y/N) did not take that beautiful man up on his offer last night."

 "There was no offer," you insisted.

 "Come on (Y/N), there was an offer. There's always an offer. Remember when you were doing promo for that Batman flick." You tried to shut Kennedy up with a death glare, but she continued to prattle on. "We all know you ended up doing the nasty with Superman."

 "WHAT?!?!" Yeah, that definitely came out of the other nine people's mouths in the room.

 "Thanks, Ken. No one knew that but you."

 "Oops, my bad." She had the grace to at least be embarrassed about the whole thing.

 "You mean you slept with that guy, the British one, tall, all muscular, extremely good looking. Damn it what's his name." You could see Eva wracking her brain for his name and you just didn't want to go there.

 "Hen…"

 "Yes, him," you admitted, stopping Jade before she could finish his name. "Can we please change the subject?"

 "Why, when we are all living vicariously through you," Kelsey added. "Especially poor Kennedy, who is now committed to spending the rest of her life with one man."

 "Geez, you make it sound like a death sentence. I love Ryan and I'm perfectly fine spending the rest of my days with him."

 You had to suppress an eye roll. Not because you didn't think that Ryan and Kennedy weren't in love. If you were being honest, you just thought they were rushing things a bit. The problem was telling your best friend that; you tried in the past and never succeeded. "We know you're in love Kenny." And then because you couldn't stop yourself, you added. "It's just are you sure you want to be tied down so young? We still have our whole life to live."

 "Jesus, (Y/N). We all know you're not ready for marriage and what comes with it, but we can't all be you with your fancy job in LA, meeting celebrities all the time. Some of us have real lives and want to settle down and have a family."

 "Kenny, that's not what I meant." The last thing you wanted to do was argue with her at her bachelorette party. "I only want you to be happy."

 "You have a funny way of showing it." The air in the room took on a chill and not from the air conditioning. If you didn't do something soon this party was going to go downhill.

 "Oh, would you look at the time," Jade chimed in. "We should probably be heading down to the pool." Everyone grabbed their stuff, Kennedy giving you the cold shoulder as you made your way out of the hotel suite. Jade came up and wrapped an arm around you. "She'll be fine. She's just on edge after the whole Gretchen thing. We'll give her a few shots and you two will be good as new."

 "I hope so." Unfortunately, things weren't fine. Kennedy seemed to avoid you and your attempt to make things right, even after a few shots. That didn't stop you from taking a few more. You had a strict one drink to one water rule, that you threw out the door today. Downing shots like it was your job. It was probably an hour later when you were in one of the private pools, with a few of the girls that a large group of very attractive men walked in. They were definitely different from Nate and the guys from Thunder, and at first, you thought it was some fraternity get together with how young some of them looked, but at second glance there were some gentlemen that were your age or older.

 "They've gotta be baseball players," Eva whispered over after they took up residence in the three bungalows next to you.

 "Nah, none of them have a dad bod." Jade was right, they were too fit to be in the MLB. You'd been around enough major leaguers to know while some were incredibly in shape, some were not. That didn't seem to be the case with this group.

 "I'm gonna rule out NFL as well," you told the girls. "None of these guys look like they're an offensive guard. Those guys are huge." You noticed a few of them staring at the six of you that were in the smaller pool reserved only for the bungalows. Grabbing another shot, this had to be your fourth in just sixty minutes, you downed the drink really starting to feel its effects.

 "Looks like we may just find out here," Jade said, nodding to let you know some of the guys were headed your way.

 "Ladies, care if we join you?" One of the men asked, you had to admit he was extremely handsome but also gave off an air that he had more than a few notches in his bedpost.

 A couple of the girls nodded, but when no one said anything, you found yourself saying, "Come on in."

 "So, what brings you to Vegas?" This from a different guy, who had quite a number of tattoos covering his arms, and you had to admit that the ink just made him more attractive, that and his height. He was well over six feet tall and you didn't mind looking up to see his face as he took the seat next to you.

 "Bachelorette party," Jade blurted out and you saw a few eyebrows raise.

 "Tell me you're not the bride?" His breath was warm or maybe it was the sun, either way, you definitely felt a warmth in your belly that wasn't there moments ago.

 "I am definitely not the bride." Shit that sounded desperate. "Though I am the maid of honor, at least I hope I still am." You looked inside the bungalow to see Kennedy in deep conversation with Gretchen.

 "Hmm, sounds like there's a story there. Care to tell me? I'm Jacob by the way, though the guys call me Marky."

 He held out his hand, the one that didn't have a beer in it, and you took it. "(Y/N), and I'll tell you though it's rather dull, on one condition." He quirked a brow at you. "You tell me what sport you play."

 He chuckled. "What makes you think I play a sport? Maybe I'm an investment banker."

 "Well, first there's your accent, though I suppose you could pull off investment banker with that. Second, you are all…how shall I say this…physically fit. A quality most athletes have and considering the number of you; I doubt this is some kind of investment banker convention."

 "Ok, I'll give you that, though we could be bodybuilders or…" the lights on the billboard on the strip changed to a Thunder From Down Under ad and you saw a light bulb in his head go off. "Or male strippers." Shit, you almost spit your drink out on that one. "What, too much a stretch? Maybe it's your lucky day." He started to sway his hips in the pool, one of his friends joining him while you and Jade tried to contain your laughter.

 "Nah, it's already been (Y/N)'s lucky day with them. She knows them all rather intimately."

 "Jade!" you yelled at your friend, or ex-friend, though you weren't in a position to be losing anymore at the moment.

 "Oops." She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Alcohol made everyone do some crazy things and Jade was no exception to the rule.

 "Intimately huh?" Jacob asked as you splashed water on Jade causing her to shriek and hide behind Jacob's friend who you learned was someone named Erik. "Have I lost the competition before it even starts?"

 "There's no competition."

 "So, you're single then?"

 "Yes, though you still haven't answered my question." As soon as Jacob heard you say yes, he slid a little closer to you.

 "What was that question again?" He said with laughter in his eyes and before you could get annoyed with him, though you doubted that would happen, he added. "I remember, just giving you a hard time. Anyhow, we play hockey."

 "Oh, nice. Like professional level? Or are there minors in that sport?" You really weren't one hundred percent sure. You'd taken in a game here and there but not really paid any particular attention to it.

 "We're in the NHL, playing for Vancouver. Just came out to do a little team bonding before the season starts. So, are we going to talk about this intimate encounter or why you think your maid of honor duties are getting revoked?"

 "I think I need another drink to talk about either of them."

 Jacob flagged down one of the personal waitresses for the area, requesting a couple of shots and drinks for you both, and you had to admit you liked the way he worked. "Now that that's taken care of…"

 You blew out a frustrated breath, more with yourself than anything else. "I said something stupid right before we came down here." He kept silent, his eyes totally focused on you and what you were saying. A refreshing change from some of the men you spoke to. "I just think she's rushing into things. They've only known each other a year and we are too young to get married. She's only twenty-five, we have our whole lives ahead of us. You know?" He simply nodded his agreement before you continued. "I want to see the world, go places, and do things before I'm strapped down to one man forever. Not to mention being tied down with kids. How can Kenny not want that too?"

 "I totally agree. I've gotten to see a lot with hockey but there's no way I want to be tied down just yet."

 "Exactly, you totally get me." Your drinks arrived then and Jacob took one shot and handed it to you before taking the other.

 "Well, I say we toast to being young and free with no commitments."

 "I'll drink to that." He clinked his glass to yours and the two of you downed the drinks. It seemed like the DJ noticed the change in your mood, as the music got louder and the energy seemed to kick up a notch. You got up and started to dance in the pool; the other girls joining in. It wasn't long before you felt Jacob behind you. His hips grinding into your backside, as his large hands encircled your waist.

 Drinks flowed freely the entire day, and if you were being honest, you couldn't remember a time you'd been that drunk before the sun had even set. You were laughing and dancing, and quite literally having the time of your life; your maid of honor duties completely forgotten at this point. Gretchen came up to you at some point and told you that she, Kennedy, and Kelsey were heading up and would catch up with the rest of you later. Everyone else was having too much fun with the Canucks to want to leave.

 A few more drinks and an hour later, the party was winding down. Most of your friends had headed up to their room to pass out, only a few stayed behind. Jacob had somehow maneuvered you into one of the bungalows that was empty. You shared a few kisses here and there out in the pool area, but now that you were out of view of prying eyes things were getting a bit more heated. Jacob's hands were on your ass, as his tongue was down your throat; not that yours wasn't doing the same thing to him. He moaned into your mouth, the sound going straight to your core. Your bikini bottom was no longer wet from the water of the pool, but the press of Jacob's cock against it.

 You both stumbled back, landing down on the large daybed in the bungalow, though somehow Jacob's reflexes softened your fall. His hands went straight to your breasts, kneading the flesh there. He was just about to untie the string of your bikini top when someone walked in. "Jesus, Marky! Take it upstairs would you!" You squinted trying to make out who it was but at this point not remembering anyone's name besides the man that was on top of you.

 "Oh, shit…thought I was in my room." It was funny, you thought the same thing. "Sorry, Jay."

 "His name is Jay? Like the letter?" you mumbled as Jacob helped you off the couch. "What comes after J?" Fuck you were drunk and when you were drunk you tended to ramble. You once actually talked to a damn parking meter because you thought it was a person, and you were pretty sure you could talk to one now if there was one around.

 "Doesn't matter, babe," Jacob said kissing your lips. "Wanna head up to my room?"

 You had to go up on your tiptoes to loop your arms around his neck. "Yes, I do." He planted a kiss on your lips then cupped your ass cheeks causing you to jump a bit.

 "Let's go," he finally said breaking the kiss. You had enough sense to grab your things and tell your friends not to worry that you'd catch up with them tomorrow. They all winked and nodded or at least that's what it looked like in your head because that's when things started to get hazy. You had vague recollections of making your way through the casino, stopping here and there. Part of you thought that the two of you even stopped to play roulette only so you could have another drink.

 You did remember tumbling through the door of Jacob's suite. His lips were on yours and neither of you were paying attention as he unlocked it. Thankfully his quick reflexes caught you; apparently, even when drunk, goalies couldn't lose some of those natural instincts.

 His hands, you remember them being everywhere on your body, and how incredible they made you feel. His calloused touch lit a fire inside you, that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He rid you of your white swim cover-up easily, flinging the garment across the room, and then his lips were all over your body. It was easy to recall the way he made you feel, as he softly bit down on your nipple through the fabric of your bikini. You'd craved this all afternoon. It had been a couple months since you'd been with a man and Jacob was everything you'd been waiting for.

 You ripped off his shirt. Your hands immediately going to his chest and roaming down his tattooed arms. He was all muscle, hard and lean everywhere, but when you slid your hand down inside his swim trunks to his cock; oh, it was hard all right, but lean was not a word you'd used to describe it. You were barely able to wrap your fingers around his girth, and as you stroked him, you realized God had not only blessed him with height but length as well. The man was made to star in a porno, you thought as you shoved his trunks down.

 Somehow, during that time Jacob had managed to get your bikini top off, though you supposed with its simple string ties it wasn't a hard feat to manage. You dropped to your knees, licking your lips before taking your tongue and swirling it around the head of Jacob's cock. "Det kanns sa bra min vackra prinsessa (that feels so good my beautiful princess)." Jacob's mumblings had you pulling back and looking up at him. "Don't stop, baby." This time you knew what he said as you slowly sucked him into your mouth. There was no way that you could take him all in, so you pumped the rest of him with your fist. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked him inside, using every trick in the book you knew. Jacob muttered more in Swedish to you, things you had no clue as to what they meant, but judging by his reaction they were things he was enjoying very much. He threaded his hands through your hair, pulling it back so you could look up at him with big doe eyes. "Jesus," he swore, his hips bucking into your mouth at the sight of you with his cock in it, looking like that. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out shouting," Tillrackligt, enough. I think you're trying to kill me, princess."

 There was something about the way he called you princess. It wasn't anything you'd been called before and most times you'd preferred babe or baby, but the way the word rolled off his tongue did things to your insides.

 Jacob helped you off the ground, his lips ghosting over yours before picking you up and tossing you onto the bed. His large form handled you easily, arranging your body just the way he wanted to before slipping off your bikini bottoms. His large hands worked their way from your ankles to your calves, all the way up to your thighs; spreading your legs as he went. "So beautiful." He traced his fingers lightly over your pussy lips and you quivered in anticipation of what was to come. One long finger slid between your folds all the way up to your clit, once, then twice, and then once again. "So wet, prinsessa, and all because of me."

 "Mmm, yes, Jacob." He dipped that same finger inside you then. The digit slipping in easily and so he added another. Then his mouth was there. Tongue flicking over your clit in a way that made you squirm with pleasure. "Oh yes," you moaned, caught up in the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. "Just like that." Your hips lifted up on their own accord, seeking more of what this giant of a man was doing to you. Jacob never let up, making a come-hither motion with his fingers and you found yourself unraveling around him; legs shaking, breath panting as your orgasm overtook you.

 “So pretty when you cum, prinsessa.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy then brought them to your lips. You opened without any thought, licking your juices off of them. Before you could get them clean, Jacob’s mouth joined yours, kissing you while you sucked on his index and middle fingers. Your tongues mingled together, as Jacob positioned himself between your thighs. The head of his cock nudged between your folds and you sighed into his mouth at just that first touch. Slowly, he filled your pussy, until he bottomed out. Only then did he release your lips. “Fuck you feel so good.”

 Jacob loved the feel of you clenching around him. It felt like he was in heaven. Part of him didn’t even want to move that’s how good your body felt, but then you shifted your hips up just a hair bit and he had to suck in a breath at the pleasure that went straight to his groin for fear he would spend inside you right then and there. He willed his body under control and only then started to move.

 With every snap of Jacob’s hips, a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails raked down his back, probably leaving marks, but it seemed to only spur him on. “Yes, Prinsessa,” he moaned out, as you bent your knees allowing him to go deeper. You moaned as he hit that treasured spot that had you seeing stars. “You like that?” Another moan was his answer, as he continued to fuck you.

 That peculiar feeling started to wash over you. Your pussy fluttering around Jacob’s cock as the orgasm finally broke. Back arching, legs trembling, you were moaning out his name as the climax seemed to continue, as Jacob drove wildly into you. As you came down off your high, Jacob found his. With a few erratic thrusts, he was spending deep inside you with a loud groan. He slumped forward, his sweety forehead resting on yours. “Det dar var otroligt.” You looked at him curiously, your brain not working at all but also knowing he was speaking something in Swedish to you. He smiled, a glorious one that you found yourself getting lost in and you found yourself returning it. “I said that was amazing.”

 “Yes, it was,” you breathed out. Jacob rolled you both onto your sides, tucking you into his. It wasn’t long before both of you were passing out.

 Now here you were, finally putting most of the pieces together from last night. You looked back over at the sleeping man, who had given you such pleasure even in your inebriated state. He really was gorgeous. You honestly wouldn’t mind going for round two, after a couple of Tylenol, of course. Speaking of which you needed to get up and see if you had any in your bag. If only you could move him without waking him. You carefully took your right arm and went to move his left which was slung across you, but then something caught your eye. There on his ring finger was a ring. Oh, it wasn’t just any ring, it was a wedding ring! You knew he didn’t have it on when you were in the pool. You were not the type of woman to go hitting on a married man, let alone sleep with him.

 You pulled your other arm out from underneath him, fully intending to grab your stuff and get the hell out of there when you noticed a bright and shiny diamond on your ring finger. There was also a matching wedding band. Then like a tsunami hitting the beach of a small island a memory came flooding back to you of the two of you entering the hotel chapel. This man wasn’t married to just anyone, he was married to you!  

.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 11

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Spark.

She watches Ethan from the couch as he pulls a tin of muffins out of the oven, arranging a few on a plate. She’s been thinking a lot about what Mulder said about not having a spark with his ex. She wonders if she and Ethan have a spark, or if they did at one point. When she thinks about her relationship with Ethan, what stands out to her is commitment, dedication, stability. And love, of course, she does love him.

When they first met through mutual friends, she wasn’t particularly interested. He was perfectly nice, and good looking enough, but struck her more as a potential friend than a boyfriend. He was steadfast, kept showing up, kept gently working to get to know her, and eventually she started to grow fond of him. They’ve joked that while his attraction to her was immediate, hers to him was more of a slow burn. This is what mature, adult relationships are like, right? Measured, practical, logical. When you’re young, wild, and free, you date whoever you have the most fun with, chasing the next exciting experience and the rush of a first kiss. But the person you marry should be someone who you know will be a dependable partner, a good parent, and a lifelong support. That has always been her belief.

Ethan returns to sit with her on the couch, setting the muffins on the coffee table to cool. He picks up her feet and puts them in his lap, casting her a brief smile before he goes to work pressing his thumbs into her arches as he watches TV.

Spark.

Is that what she feels when she’s with Mulder? A spark? Is that why her stomach goes into knots when he looks at her? Why she feels the overwhelming urge to touch him? The sensation that there is an electrical current passing between them is not one she’s ever felt with Ethan, that’s for sure. There was no adrenaline in their first kiss, only contentment. Comfort, safety, security. These are good feelings, ones you can build a life on. Can you build a life on a spark?

“You still going to try on dresses tomorrow with Missy?” he asks, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

“Mhmm,” she answers over her book, which she hasn’t gotten through a page of in over thirty minutes.

“Are you gonna let me see what you pick?” he asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye with a surreptitious smirk.

She sets the book on her stomach and gives him a chastising smile. “Of course not, Ethan. That’s against the rules.”

“Who made that rule, anyway? I’ve already seen you naked, I should be able to see you in a fancy dress before the big day,” he says with a pointed look.

She swats him with the book.

“The fact that you’ve already seen me naked is also against the rules, so I guess we’re 0 for 2. Don’t tell my mother that,” she lectures playfully.

“I’m sure she has her suspicions, given that we live together,” he says dryly.

“Leave the woman to her ignorant bliss,” she retorts, and they hold eye contact for a moment, exchanging affectionate smiles.

Not a spark, but maybe an ember. Burning steady, carrying them through the dark nights. Sparks die out quickly. She only hopes her spark with Mulder fades soon, because right now it’s burning so bright it’s distracting her from the ember sitting right at her feet.

———

She frowns at herself in the mirror.

“This one is really pretty, Sis, you don’t like it?” Missy asks, tugging at the train to straighten it out.

“I don’t know. Maybe. No.”

She looks forlornly at the rack of dresses she’s already tried on. Every length and cut, style of bodice and neckline. They all seemed wrong.

“I mean, I know you’re generally hard to please, Dana, but this is getting ridiculous,” Missy laments.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she replies, casting Missy an apologetic look.

“Which one do you think Ethan would like? Would that help you decide?” Missy offers helpfully.

Ethan. Right. She realizes that she’s been thinking about what Mulder would make of her in a white dress. She suspects he’d go for the mermaid fit.

“Can we just try again another day, maybe? I think I’m just not in the right headspace for this,” she pleads with her big sister.

“Sure, whatever you want. Let’s go get coffee or something,” Missy says as she ushers Dana back into the changing room.

They go to her favorite local spot, finding two open armchairs near the fireplace, which is off for the summer. Dana tucks her legs under her torso, sipping at an indulgent white chocolate mocha; she feels the need for small pleasures right now. Missy eyes her appraisingly, and she can feel the third degree that is about to commence.

“So what’s up with you?” she finally asks, her tone inquisitive but not abrasive.

“What do you mean?” Dana asks in reply, avoiding her eyes.

Missy’s head drops to the side in exasperation. “Are you really going to make me spell it out for you, Dana? I’m trying to be supportive of your decision to marry Ethan, but you’re making it really hard being so openly miserable all the time.”

Dana looks at her with surprise and indignation. “I am not miserable.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Missy says sarcastically.

Dana shakes her head. “I’m just...I don’t know, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Care to elaborate?” Missy asks with an expectant look.

She sighs and sets her shoulders. She needs to talk to someone about this, and Missy is literally her only option.

“Okay, but first I need you to promise me you’re not going to make a big deal about this, because it’s really not a big deal,” she prefaces with a stern look.

“You know me, I don’t do big deals,” Missy replies, working hard to hide her anticipation for whatever her little sister is about to reveal.

“Okay. So, I met this man at work,” she starts, and Missy’s eyes go as round as oranges. “Missy, don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Missy defends, “go on.” She’s leaning forward in her chair, creating less space between them.

“He’s an agent, he was just picking something up for a case he’s working on, but he asked me out, and we’ve kind of been...we’ve become friends,” she says hesitantly, glancing at Missy to gage her reaction. Missy is forcing a blank expression.

“So...you’re dating him?” she asks flatly.

“No! Oh god, no. I mean, he asked me out and I told him that I have a boyfriend, but now we’re just kind of friends, and….Jesus Christ.” She drops her forehead into her palm. Even describing what’s going on with Mulder is apparently impossible. “We are just friends, but...but I’m having a hard time reconciling how I feel about him.”

“How do you feel about him?” Missy asks.

Dana shakes her head. “I don’t know how to describe it, Missy. I love Ethan, I’m not having doubts about him, but this man...I feel so drawn to him. Being around him feels...almost electric.”

“Like you have a spark?” Missy asks, and Dana’s head snaps to look at her. She’s open, curious.

“Yeah...exactly like that,” she replies regretfully.

Missy nods in understanding, and it somehow makes Dana feel a little better, like she’s not totally crazy. “Tell me about him,” she requests, and Dana can’t help but smile.

“Um, he’s a criminal behavioral analyst, in the Behavioral Science Unit. Oxford educated. He’s funny, but in a dry, intellectual way. He has some pretty outlandish ideas, but he’s so passionate about what he believes in, it’s impossible not to take him seriously. He’s kind of intense, but really alluring.” She pauses, knowing she can’t go on much further without veering into gushing.

“Is he cute?” Missy asks, and Dana closes her eyes.

“SO good looking. Painfully so.” She opens them and Missy is smiling knowingly at her.

“Sounds like a real catch, Sis.”

“Yeah, but I’m engaged to someone who is also a great catch in his own right. I feel like I’m in a romcom.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Missy asks earnestly.

Dana looks at her with surprise. “What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything. It’s just distracting, but obviously nothing can or will come of it.”

Missy gives her a doubtful expression, but then raises her eyes to meet with someone over Dana’s shoulder, giving them a questioning look. Dana turns to see Mulder standing beside her, a cup in his hand and that damn boyish smile on his mouth.

“Hey, Scully, we meet again,” he says, glancing between her and Missy.

“Mulder, hi,” she stumbles, bringing her feet to the floor and squirming around as though he’d caught her in a compromised position. “Um, Mulder, this is my sister, Melissa. Missy, this is Fox Mulder.”

He steps forward and extends his hand to Missy, and she shakes it with a flirtatious smile. “Nice to meet you, Fox.”

“Oh, please call me Mulder,” he replies.

“Alright, Mulder, would you like to join us?” Missy asks, and Dana shoots her a look.

“Um, yeah, I can hang out for a minute,” he replies cautiously, pulling up a chair between the two of theirs.

“So, how do you and Dana know each other?” she asks, and Dana isn’t sure if she’s asking because she realizes who he is, or because she doesn’t.

“We work together, technically speaking. I’m a criminal behavioral analyst in the Behavioral Science Unit.” Missy gives Dana a look that tells her it was the latter. “What are you two up to today?” he asks, running his palm over a stubbled cheek. She can hear the scratch of the short hairs against his skin and it sets off a tingle at the back of her neck.

“We were just doing some wedding dress shopping,” Missy offers, watching his reaction closely.

“Ah,” he says, only moderately concealing his dissatisfaction, “sounds like a good time.” His tone is dry and not at all genuine. “So, Scully,” he says, directing his words to Dana, “Priscilla was wondering if you could stop by next weekend. She has something to show you.”

She smiles coyly. “Does she? Not a hairball, I hope?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, it’s a file, actually. Her personal favorite, she’d love to share it with you.”

“I think I might be free on Saturday,” she replies, “I just need to check, um…”

“Check with Ethan, right,” he finishes, his smile fading a bit.

“Right,” she confirms, her own smile quickly extinguishing.

Mulder stands. “I’ll email you, to confirm.” He turns to Missy, “It was nice to meet you, Melissa.”

Missy beams at him. “Likewise.”

Mulder turns to Scully and gives her a longing glance, then leaves. They watch him go, waiting until the door has closed behind him to speak.

Missy slaps Dana’s arm. “Oh. My. GOD, Sis!” she exclaims with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“What?” Dana returns.

“Spark? That is a goddamn bonfire. Even I could feel it,” she says with a look of wonder.

Dana gives her a pained expression then drops her head into her hands with a groan.

“Why does he call you Scully? And who the hell is Priscilla?” Missy adds.

Dana lifts her head, looking at her sister regretfully with a shrug.

“He said I don’t look like a Dana. Priscilla is his cat.”

Missy closes her eyes for a moment and gently shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing like she’s trying to reconcile all this information in her brain.

“Whoa, so you’ve been to his place?” Missy asks incredulously.

Dana nods hesitantly.

“Sis, what are you doing? If you were to tell me that you’re going to break it off with Ethan and run away with that beautiful man I would honestly support you. But if you’re trying to keep things on the up and up here, a private rendezvous at his apartment seems like a really bad idea.” Missy is deeply confused, not used to being in the position to tell her sister what decisions are unwise. That is typically Dana’s role in their relationship.

Dana glares at her sister defensively. “We’re just friends, Missy. Men and women can be just friends.”

Missy shoots her a ‘do you think I was born yesterday?’ look.

“Sure they can, if they aren’t insanely attracted to each other. That man practically devoured you with his eyes, Dana. He wants to be more than your friend,” she says emphatically.

“Well, he’s not going to be. I’m with Ethan. And I’m an adult who can control myself enough to maintain boundaries with a platonic friend who happens to be an attractive man. I’m not a Neanderthal, Missy.” She’s using her professor voice, presenting the topic with supporting evidence. Only the facts, folks.

“Okay,” Missy says, acquiescing. “If you trust yourself then great, have fun with your friend. Does Ethan know you’re gallivanting around with a sexy behavioral analyst?”

The guilty look that overtakes Dana’s face is answer enough.

“Well,” Missy continues, “just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she brings levity back to the conversation with a little smirk.

“That leaves me with a lot of options, Missy,” Dana retorts, and Missy slaps her arm again.

[bouncingkadachi]

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts. 

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.” 

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street. 

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?” 

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision. 

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere. 

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.” 

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

 “Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 9

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Ten

Warnings: Food mention, General Angst, Hurt/Comfort, and a difference of opinions.

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Word Count: 2,439

Roman paced anxiously in the hallway before Logan’s door, the paper in his hands had been wrinkled, smoothed out, and then wrinkled again before he had tried to smooth it out once more… this time less successfully. 

He had been more than a little surprised when Logan had come to him with a list of things he wanted Roman to pick out, normally when it came to getting anything done they had two totally different mindsets of what should be done when it came to Thomas. And once it came time to do things they would clash just as they always had, as Roman instinctively wanted Thomas to just have fun and follow his passions. Whereas Logan was the exact opposite of that, and he had always wanted Thomas to do the things he needed to do, whether they were fun or boring. Roman had always kind of hated him for that, for seemingly shooting down his every idea, for a more and more boring one that sucked the fun out of everything. 

But this new plan…

“You too huh?” Roman’s head snapped up in an instant, and locked eyes with Virgil who had his hands on his own version of a wrinkled set of papers. “Apparently Patton got one too, and the oth… the dark sides too.” 

A bolt of surprise leapt through Roman, so Logan wasn’t asking just them anymore? He was actually, well and truly, going to everyone to see what they wanted done. He could imagine that Remus must’ve been quite surprised to be asked such a thing from Logan of all people. Especially with how they had clashed just recently, or had Logan just given Janus the papers with the instruction to give it to Remus too. If that were the case… then Remus would have seen this as nothing more than homework to be done, and probably shredded it the moment that it landed in his hands. 

Or maybe not… 

Roman was smart enough to acknowledge that he didn’t exactly know his brother that well. That and Remus always tried to do what they least expected from him, as one big twist surprise ending towards them all.

He was annoying like that. 

Roman’s eyes snapped towards the door, and Virgil fidgeted in his place for some reason looking very uncomfortable at the prospect of entering. “Yeah…” He finally said, scratching the back of his head. “It definitely was kind of… interesting. I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me for a while, we didn’t exactly part well last time.” That was an understatement, he remembered yelling at Logan… and just being so angry before he had come to terms with it all. “I’m surprised that Logic even wants to see us and-” 

A snarl peeled off of Virgil’s lips, and Roman flinched in surprise.

“His name is Logan, Roman.” The anxious side snapped in an instant, his eyes dark like thunderclouds before a torrential downpour. “Not Logic. Do you understand?” He growled, suddenly looking quite on edge for someone who had just been looking so nervous in the face of Logan’s door. 

It felt a bit like whiplash. 

But even so Roman held his stance firmly, he was determined when it came to this and he wasn’t going to let one of Virgil’s temper tantrums get in the way of it. Not anymore, and not with everything that had happened recently. He was Logan’s shield, he had sworn that he would be that for him even if the logical side didn’t know it, and even if he never knew it. Roman was on his side, and he would remain on his side for as long as the logical side would have him. 

So he crossed his arms, “I think his name is whatever he chooses for it to be, Virgil.” He stressed the other side’s name, feeling only an inkling of guilt at how the anxious side stepped back for a second. “We don’t have the authority to tell him what he will or will not be called. If he wants to be called Logic, then Logic is what we’ll call him. It’s not up to you.” Roman stared at Virgil, meeting his eyes dead on and not breaking eye contact until the anxious side’s eyes darted away. “Got it?” He asked, feeling the tiniest bit of satisfaction in how he had turned the other’s words back on him. 

A beat of silence, and then…

“Thank you Creativity.” Both of the sides looked up in a hurry, their eyes locking onto the logical side who stood before them, his door previously shut tight was now wide open. He held his own stack of papers, all neatly pressed and without a single crease or line on them. “Both of you may come on in, if it so pleases you.”  

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into his room, leaving the other two sides to follow him. 

The atmosphere was… more than a little tense to say the least. 

The bedroom that had previously been Logan’s looked nothing like what it was now, to the point where it was almost night and day with the comparisons. The posters were gone, the string lights, the pictures of all of them, the bookcases, the crumpled up paper balls that had once been ideas, even the… the fanfiction that Roman used to help Logan write… it was all gone. It was like everything had just been stripped away, and a boring office cubicle had taken its place. The deep blue walls were now a pale cream color, and the lush carpet was now just bland grey tile worn with a path of someone who walked in the same place for years and years.  

Roman had thought that Logan’s room had been boring before, but this… 

This was a whole new ball game. 

And looking at the stark horror that was etched out onto Virgil’s face, he could very well tell that the anxious side was thinking the same thing that he was. 

“So…” Roman cleared his throat as his voice cracked almost immediately. “I’m.. I’m a…” He fumbled badly with his words, the shock he had just went through robbing him of what he had prepared himself to say. He’d been asked here for a specific reason, and if he failed the simplest thing he had been asked… then what good was he? “I’m sure that Thomas can do the things that you want him to. It shouldn’t be that ha-”      

Almost immediately Logan cut in, “Don’t aim too high,” The logical side suggested, rather politely. In a way that Roman could tell that what he was saying wasn’t necessarily out of malice or anything. Instead, it feels like Logan’s saying to be more helpful, almost like a coworker giving some good advice.

But Roman can only nod, the underlying message behind that advice all too clear for him. 

“I aimed too high.” It says, “And I got burned for it, so don’t do what I did. Save yourself.” 

The tension has not eased a single bit. 

And then, Logan lifts his cup up, taking a slow and steady sip from it, as if he was trying to ease the atmosphere by doing something. The warm brown liquid swirled around in Logan’s cup with the clinking of ice accompanying it, and Roman’s nose itched with the faintest smell of spices wafting off of it. He got the faintest whiff of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves. Had… had Logan completely given up coffee and switched over to having chai tea of all things? He would have expected that from someone like Patton, or even Virgil, to lessen the other’s anxiety.

But Logan?  

Roman had to bite his bottom lip at the mental image of Logan becoming one of those “dark academia” people that sat in the library and looked gloomy and so freaking cool all the time... kind of like Janus. Although Janus… Janus was more of a wine person, that much he could tell from miles away without even having to get close to that snake. 

“Don’t you normally drink coffee?” Virgil asked, wrinkling his nose at the spicey mixture in Logan’s cup, and Roman fought the urge to elbow him in the gut for his remark. “What’re you drinking?” 

Logan, to his credit, didn't even seem like he was going to get mad or anything at Virgil’s pure judgment and vitriol towards the drink of his choice. He merely took a longer sip than usual, licking the droplets that remained from his bottom lip when he pulled the cup away. He looked… calmer, before Logan would have vehemently defended his food choices against anyone who tried to question him. But at the same time, it felt more than a little wrong, Logan may have shifted towards the spicier drink, but where was his spice? Where was Logan’s sharp tangy flavor that made him so different from them? 

This Logan was like coffee now, bitter and… not at all to their taste. 

Logan just smiled that polite smile, and Roman had to force himself to smile back.

“I’ve found that drinking coffee isn’t exactly beneficial in the long run,” Logan explained, as he swirled the content of his cup around in a steady motion. “It’s been known to enhance anxiety attacks astronomically,” Virgil’s face gave a funny look for a moment, before Logan went on. “And it also lowers blood pressure too.” 

Roman swallowed down the words that he wanted to say, “That’s great Logic, good job on looking ahead.” The words felt sour and dull in his mouth, logically… Logan should have known that him drinking coffee over tea wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t impact Thomas in any way, and it wasn’t like Logan himself would drop dead over some high blood pressure. Logan had just taken away one more thing that the logical side liked, and turned it into something else. “You did good.” 

For a split second something in Logan’s face changed abruptly, a slight widening of his eyes and a crease in his forehead and lips. 

Something changed, and then… 

The room flashed briefly, but just out of the corner of Roman’s eye, it was so brief that he almost missed it entirely but he was certain that he had seen it. 

The cubicle styling of Logan’s room, just momentarily flashing back to how it was supposed to look. With all of his space posters, hanging lights, and the organized mess that Roman had seen Logan’s room as before. It was.. It was as if the new room only existed when they looked at it, and not a moment too soon or too late for them.

The very thought alone made Roman’s stomach drop.

He had promised himself that he wouldn’t intervene if this was what Logan had truly wanted for himself, but even so… it didn’t ease the sting of pain that was accompanied by every new thing that Logan was starting to do when it came to any of them. He had thought that he could handle it, and that the pain of this somehow would be lesser than the guilt he had felt towards this whole situation. But.. 

It wasn’t. 

If anything this felt worse, he had talked himself into giving in and giving this to Logan. All of this was almost too much for him, his legs itched to run and take him out of this room so that he wouldn’t have to witness anything like this anymore. But he held himself firm, and refused to move. He forced himself to look back at Logan, at the logical side who is steadily typing away on his computer, inputting the information that both he and Virgil had brought to the other side. 

Speaking of Virgil though…

The anxious side looked like he wanted to either scream or cry at Logan, the emotions clashing like a thunderstorm on his face as his eyeshadow darkened in color for a few brief moments. Until finally Virgil sucked in a deep breath, his eyeshadow returning to its normal, usually messy state as he seemed to calm down for now. 

Reaching into his pocket Virgil pulled out a folded piece of paper, “For your… office.” Virgil caught himself on the last word, almost wanting to say something else. The cubicle looked like a prison to him, nothing at all like Logan’s old room, and he could very much see why Logan hadn’t wanted him in here before. So he says the word almost bitterly, because this whole situation feels bitter to him. There’s not one bit of sweetness to be found in it.

He only softens the slightest bit when Logan takes the paper, unfolding the picture he had drawn for the logical side. And when Logan actually pins it to his cubicle wall, his movements are careful and precise so as to not damage the art Virgil had made for him. It remains on the wall, in plain view for the logical side to look at while he’s working. Then and only then does Virgil feel an intense sense of relief sweeping through him like a hurricane. It’s one more piece of evidence for the both of them that Logan doesn’t entirely hate them, but also that things also aren’t the same between them.

At least not yet. 

“Okay…” Virgil clears his throat, before tugging on Roman’s sleeve to pull him towards the door. “We’ll leave you to your work.. Logic. Let us know if there is any other paperwork you need from us, and we’ll get it done…” Virgil paused, but for just a moment. “I promise.” 

Logan stopped in his typing, his eyes glancing up from the computer they had been otherwise glued to. A look of… something passed over the logical side’s face, before it vanished entirely. 

“Thank you…” 

It was the only two words that were whispered back, so softly that Roman had almost missed them entirely. And before he could even think to ponder the words, he was pulled out by Virgil, his head full of ideas as he remained ever more determined to give Logan things to put up in his new “office”. His mind was wild with ideas of painting, charcoal sketches, and pastel drawings that he could give to Logan to pin up. Anything to make his new room, just the slightest bit more hospitable for the side who was constantly having to be in there. And anything to let Logan know that they still cared for him, even if he was doing all of this.  

While Virgil…

Virgil felt just the slightest bit better.

[artbyrivaille]

Hair ☕

Okay, so at the outset, I would like to emphasize that English is not my mother tongue and I am still learning. But writing is my hobby and I decided that I will try my skills here too, in English, I invite you to write requests, I hope you will like it!

3,5k words!

=================================

She was strong. She was a good soldier, commander, companion.

But she was also a beautiful woman with an amazing figure who was envied by many. Despite being quite short, because she was only five feet three, she had long slender legs. Overall, she was considered a beautiful woman. However, she had short hair.

Her hairstyle was practically identical to Levi's, but no one accused her of trying to look like him, as she was cutting her hair that way long before Ackerman joined the survey corps.

Oh, she and Levi. It was quite a sneaky topic, let alone the rumors around the body. They were often seen in each other's company, people interpreted it differently.

Some said it was just a friendship and a bond they established when Ackermann was part of her branch at the beginning of his career. And the others insinuated the supposed romance of the two. Well the versions were really different, but the truth was that y/n and good captain Levi were just two great friends. The woman was one of the few people who knew the man's past, and shared with him some facts about her. Because they both came from the Underground, however, and managed to get out of there on their own, and not with the help of scouts, as was the case with Levi.

At first they were not very sympathetic, quite the opposite. They had very similar characters, which theoretically should indicate that they will get along well, but that was only theoretically. In practice, they got on their nerves terribly.

But despite this aversion to a man, it was precisely this that helped him the most after the death of Farlan and Izabel. She provided him with comfort, help and warmth.  Something no one else could give him. It was thanks to her that he recovered so quickly, and he was in the place where he was at the moment.

At some point their relationship began to take a less formal path. More and more often they stayed at each other's offices, helped each other with Erwin's sentences, that is, documentation. They drank tea together, despite the fact that the brunette was a coffee advocate, she made an exception for Levi and almost completely gave it up. They had similar problems, especially those with sleep, may both of them suffer from insomnia, so when the entire corps was asleep, they sat in the two of them over documents, or simply spent their free time together.

Y/n did not even know the exact moment when she began to care in this other, more intimate way on the short captain. It came overnight. Of course, she was behaving the same as before, after all, she was not some horny teen, but a mature woman, but at the moment when she was going to the black-haired's office, or she just knew that he would see him, her body was flooded with heat. And maybe she wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that she had short hair.

She loved the short haircut, the long hair simply irritated her and disturbed the soldier's everyday life, but she was afraid that they might be an obstacle to any closer relationship with Ackerman.

***

She sat quietly in her office filling out paperwork for Erwin. She nervously tweaked her hair, which was longer than usual, because every time she tried to cut it, something was getting in the way and that was how it was already quite long.

The silence in the office was broken by the sudden opening of the door through which entered a black-haired man with pliers and a towel in his hand. He closed the door with a bang and set the items on the coffee table, then looked at the woman poring over reports and other documents.

"You have long hair." He said suddenly and walked closer to her chair, and when he was next to him, he entangled his hand in her dark strands. She breathed a breath and leaned against the back of the armchair, massaging her temples at the same time giving herself to the caress.

"I didn't have time to cut them off because of the last expedition, and with all the crap Erwin did, I have more work to do than ever. And Hanji keeps following me all the time and asks if I managed to convince Bushbread to do experiments on titans." She explained in frustration then exhaled her mouth with a whistle.

"Tch, fucking shitty glasses. Come on, rest a little, cut off your hair, and you will give me a haircut." He replied then pulled the woman's chair back and, grabbing her hand, led her to the bathroom. She was so tired of it all that she didn't care, and the presence of a cobalt-eyed woman was calming, so she didn't resist. "Get your hair wet." He gave the order, which she followed by putting her head in the shower and then she wet her hair with a stream of water. Ackermann handed her a towel, which she grabbed and dried her hair.

Let the two go back to the brunette's office, meanwhile she took off her jacket and threw it on the couch, which Ackermann only huffed, but said nothing. She sat down without a word on the low stool that the man had prepared at that time. He ran a hand through her hair a few times and began carefully trimming it.

"Can I ask you a question?" She finally gave up y/n, unable to withstand the silence in the room

"You ask them anyway, so why do you ask me for permission." The bored man replied by which l/n raised the corner of her mouth in a small smile.

"What do you think about women with short hair?" She asked, and black hair stopped breathing for a moment. What the hell was that about? Is this some kind of provocation?

"What am I supposed to think. They are no less feminine because they do not have long hair, their appearance does not define a person." He replied quite neutral, not realizing that he had just kindled a little ray of hope in his friend's heart. "And why do you ask?"

"Because I care about someone, and all in all, I wanted to know your opinion." Ah yes. His heart leapt into his throat, and his stomach seemed to have a 3D maneuvering device.  Someone did she like? But who the hell. After all, the only men with whom she spent time was himself, Erwin, sometimes he encountered Moblit in the company of Hanji and Mike. Who could steal her heart enough to make her care about her hairstyle? Probably Erwin. That fucking perfect general.

Maybe Levi didn't have complexes as such, but he was always a little jealous of Smith. He had a perfect body, he was tall, intelligent, had a high position in the military, and he came from a non-poor family. He was nothing compared to the blonde, he had nothing to offer. And he would like so much to have her with him.

"I'm done." He muttered softly brushing single hairs from the woman's clothes. She got up from the stool and unintentionally combed her dark hair. She looked beautiful, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Your turn." She said and took the pliers from his hand. This time it was he who sat on the stool. He involuntarily smiled under his breath and closed his eyes at the woman's gentle touch. He was literally like a docile kitten. Why couldn't she be his?

***

He had been avoiding her like plague for about two weeks. He was irritated by the lack of a black-haired woman around him, but he knew that if it was like before, he would take the blow even worse.

A blow that would never come.

Y/n really didn't know what she could do wrong. After all, everything was fine, and then overnight Ackerman began to avoid her. Maybe he just got bored?

At first she explained his ignorance with overwork, in the end everyone in the command had their heads off. But when one day in a row she saw him sitting quietly with Petra, she knew it was not it. By the way, seeing a redhead in his company, something broke in her. What did this teenager have that she did not have? Did their relationship really mean nothing to him? So many questions, so few answers.

And this way almost every evening she landed in Erwin's office with Hanji with a bottle of whiskey or vodka, depending on what Smith had in the bar. Erwin and Hange really couldn't comprehend the change in brunet's behavior, and the sight of a really hurt l/n was so pathetic as to be nasty.

And so the next evening the three gathered in Smith's office where they once again debated about the captain's behavior.

"I do not feel it completely, so change the attitude towards people overnight. 

I know that our curly pedantic has its own rules, but without exaggeration." Hanji announced, finishing the rest of the whiskey from her glass.

"Maybe something made him do it?" Smith replied, then grabbed his chin.

"Tch, and this thing is called Petra Ral, really fascinating." Black-haired girl summed up pouring herself and Zoe whiskey.

Their conversations were so loud that they interested Ackerman who was just about to make himself a cup of tea. But when he heard three familiar voices, he stood at the door of Smith's office, listening to what was being said.

"Don't take it for granted." Erwin said and frowned by the high concentration of alcohol in his glass.

"So what could be the reason Levi is ignoring me then? Just like logic Erwin, there are two options, or he has something to me and he distorts what is unfortunately but impossible because he always treated me only as a friend. Or he just shoots with Petra, and that's what I believe more. "Did they talk about him? What romance with Petra? And y/n cared for him the way he wanted it, but he's just an idiot and he broke it? He held his breath for a moment and tried to enter the room, but stopped himself and continued to stand still.

"Like it or not, I have to agree with the above.  Although I keep my fingers crossed for the first version." Squeaked at the end of the woman, which caused a loud sigh of disapproval from y/n.

"Shut up Hanji, I don't want to hope again for something that will never happen." She growled angry and hurt. She really cared about him. Not on any Erwin, Moblit or Mike, but on him. On a goddamn Underground thief with a hard character and misophobic aspirations. Damn it, don't let this be a dream.

He walked away from the door and headed for his office. He has even forgotten why he left it at all. He sat down at the desk and stared blankly at the sky until the very morning, trying to put everything in his head. He must try to fix what he broke.

***

Like a day like every other day. There was no expedition, no surprises, just an ordinary day in the recon. Well, maybe almost. Because Ackerman had been nervous and a little stressed since the morning. And it wasn't just because he wanted to talk to y/n seriously, but largely because he couldn't find her anywhere. As to spite that day, she sank underground, his only salvation could be Erwin. Which office was on his way to. The evening and dinner time was approaching, so he wanted to come to him before her, to look for the presence of a woman at the last meal, if necessary.

He entered the office without knocking, Smith merely looked up from the mountain of documents he had probably been studying since this morning, then turned him back to the sheets of paper.

"What you want Levi?" He asked breaking the silence prevailing in the room. He was pretty sure why this one had come to him, but preferred not to reveal all the cards at once.

"Where is y/n"?  Erwin sighed and then put down his quill and straightened up in his chair. He was afraid of Levi's reaction, but what could he do if the milk had already spilled?

"She went on a mission. She should be back in two or three days at the most." He replied with a straight face in the middle being a bit irritated by the reaction of the black-haired man.

"What mission? And why the hell didn't I know anything about this." Ackerman asked, very angry with the news once again.

"Maybe because you've been avoiding her for a long time? Maybe because it's a secret mission, I'm not obligated to tell you everything, Levi. I respect you and treat you as a friend, so I will give you some friendly advice. Think about what you really want and don't screw it up. I don't think I need to tell you what I'll do to you if you hurt her, not to mention Hanji." A faint smile affected his lips at the end of his speech.

"It's none of your business anymore. Thank you for the information." He replied coolly and, not worried about the threat of his friend, left his office.

So he was supposed to wait? He hated waiting. Uncertainty burst him from the inside, these few days will probably be a real nightmare for him.

***

It was well past nine o'clock, so most of the Corps' soldiers were resting in their quarters. Only a few officers were still in the courtyard. And Levi was watching them from his office.

Week. She has been gone since fucking week.

And he was consumed not only by uncertainty, but also by fear. Because they didn't know anything, not even Erwin, who entrusted the woman with this mission. Through it all, the captain was irritated and angry from day to night. Everyone wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Even Petra must have found out about his bad mood when some two days after y/n's departure, she felt bad for the fact that she smiled at him instead of focusing on cleaning. The last time he was afraid was when he first left for exeption.

Suddenly, a horse ran into the courtyard, on the back of which was a scout, but he was clearly unconscious, barely clinging to his mount. At first, Ackerman did not move from his place, but when he heard the screams about the return of squad leader l/n and summoning the medics, he sprinted out of the office.

When he was already leaving, he saw only a brunette, which two cadets were carrying on a stretcher to the infirmary. There was blood everywhere, and the worst case scenario flashed through his mind. She might have died.

He knew that they would not let him into the infirmary anyway, and the cadets didn't know anything, the only option was once again Erwin. What a mission it was to make her come back like this.

He hurried to Smith's office and threw open the door. He did not care about the surprised face of Hanji, who was sitting on the blonde's couch, but he walked over to the man and grabbed him tightly by the collar of a white shirt.

"What was that mission? And why did you send her over there alone, don't you care that she's just fighting for her life?" He was screaming at the top of his throat, he didn't care what everyone thought of him right now, he didn't care about the consequences, he only cared that he could lose her before he actually possessed her.

"In Stohess there is a man who leads the gang. It interfered with various shipments and the like. They are also active in the Underground. The task was to diversify into their ranks, apparently she did not quite succeed." He replied with stoic calm which made the black-haired man even more angry.

"Have you been really fucked up? Such a mission is not a job for one person, it is for the rest. Such matters should be handled by the MP's, not us!" He shouted and pushed the blonde back so that he almost fell from his chair.

"Only that they interfered mainly with transports to our corps. Mostly those not entirely legal. You know very well that a large amount of drugs and medical equipment we have is not entirely legal, but it is needed. I wanted to send the two of you on this mission, because both of you know the Underground, but she did not agree to you taking part in this mission. Probably because you were not getting along at that point." The man explained succinctly, and Ackerman said nothing. It was his fault, his goddamn fault. If only he wasn't such an asshole, nothing bad would have happened.

Until now, a silent Hanji came up to the shorter man and put her hand on his shoulder, the latter turned towards her, close to crying. Holy shit what she did with him.

"You'll finish later, for now, go to her." She ordered, and he nodded and without a word headed for the infirmary.

***

"When will she wake up?" He asked one of the medics, who was just finishing treating single wounds on the body of an unconscious woman.

"She should wake up in the morning. But probably not for long, he has to rest a lot now. She lost a lot of blood, it is surprising that she was even going here alive." She replied and got up from the small stool, putting the remnants of bandages and other medicaments on a silver tray. "But take it easy, she will get out of this, squad leader l/n is a damn tough woman, not just character.  She will lick it." She added after a moment with a slight smile on her face trying to cheer the man up.

"I know she's strong." He replied quietly, his head bowed and his hands folded.

"So just be patient. I think she survived because she had someone to return to." She laughed softly and just left the room, leaving the slightly confused captain with the unconscious woman.

He slowly walked over to her bed and sat down next to it on the wooden chair. He grabbed her chilled hand and pressed it to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. He had to wait.

And so the hours went by, and Levi spent them thinking about his feelings for the woman and simply gazing at her adoringly.

She was so beautiful, he loved everything about her. From a smile that could not be seen too often, ending with short hair. He was lazily combing them almost all the time, not being surprised how pleasant they are.  He did not even notice that it was starting to dawn, and the soldiers of the corps were slowly waking up to start another day of service. He also did not notice that Erwin accompanied by Hanji arrived in the room in the meantime, but when they saw the man sitting next to the y/n, they only smiled at each other and left, leaving them alone, of course they gave each other high five for fruitful cooperation.

"Wake up now, because these feelings will blow me up soon." The words were coming out of his mouth involuntarily. His eyes were closed, he tried to focus, to be patient. "I overheard your, Hanji and Erwin conversation about me. I really was an idiot. I shouldn't be away from you, that's why you're here at all. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be lying here, I wouldn't have allowed it. I have plans to blame Erwin for letting you go on this mission alone. But you don't know how much I was bursting from the inside by the thought that you care about someone, and that someone is not me. I was so fucking jealous. Ugh, feelings are a pain in the ass. You don't even know what you're doing with me. I just love you, and I love everything about you." There was a silence in the room, and the man breathed a sigh of relief, finally blurted out into the crowd of thoughts.

"Even my short hair?" Silence, a hoarse voice broke the silence in the room. The man immediately opened his eyes and straightened in his chair, a smile spread across his face at the sight of the woman's open eyes.

"Even short hair." He replied and once again ran his hand through it, and placed the other on her cheek.

"I heard everything, you idiot. Love you too." She said and smiled broadly as he reciprocated.

"I love you too." He replied and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

[tangledstarlight]

2. “Sure, you can use me as a pillow.” For willex 😃

hello hi this could have been so much longer but it’s 2am and i gotta go to sleep, but i also felt compelled to do this tonight so here we go! and yes okay i nearly forgot there was a prompt my bad 😬 hope you like anon!! 

hurt/comfort dialogue prompts!!

2. “Sure, you can use me as a pillow.” 

The thing about traveling is that Alex really hates traveling. 

Sure, he likes going to new places and experiencing new cultures and buying hotdogs from street vendors in New York who don’t work out of a car. But that actual act of traveling? Of getting from one place to another long distance via plane? Absolutely hates it. As he sits around in hard plastic airport chairs he often finds himself wishing he could just teleport himself. Think of where he wanted to be and poof! there he was. 

But he couldn’t poof around the world and instead he was stuck on a flight back to LA from New York that was already an hour delayed and was now a further two hours delayed on the tarmac while they were on the damn thing. 

Balling up his jumper and stuffing it behind his head Alex tries to relax, to stretch his legs out in front of him a little and let the tension leave his shoulders. He thinks about the apartment that him and the band had rented for the three months they’d been in New York working on their new album. Of how he could be on the plush grey sofa right now, listening to Reggie talk over whatever film they’d picked and trying to throw popcorn into Luke’s open mouth after he’d fallen asleep ten minutes in while Julie tried with m&ms. 

But no. He’s stuck in a plane and starting to get cramp in his leg and regretting not accepting the travel pillow Reggie had tried to give him before he left. God there had better be an open bar at his sister's wedding to make up for this experience. Though he knows that’s partly a lie, because seeing his little sister walk down the aisle in her white dress will be worth it, but the way his parents will avoid him the whole weekend? Oh yeah, he’s gonna need an open bar for that too. 

“Sorry folks, looks like we’re going to be stuck here a little while longer. Please remain in your seats and if you need anything––” Alex, along with the majority of the plane, stop listening to the pilot's voice on the speaker. There’s a collective groan and he can hear people complaining and the little tell-tale ding of someone calling for assistance. 

Alex blows out a breath and tries to go back to relaxing in his seat. Which feels awkward and uncomfortable and exposed, probably due to the fact he’s got an aisle seat. Logically, he knows that. Logically, he knows that no one is really judging him right now because they’re all too busy dealing with their own shit. 

The sleeve of his jumper slips free, dropping to his neck and, without thinking, he swats it away. Belatedly, and okay yeah, only after the responding grunt, does Alex remember that there’s someone sitting next to him. 

Eyes snapping open he looks at the man next to him, takes in the long hair and the tie dye sweatshirt and the wires of his headphones and the raised eyebrow as he looks back at him. 

“I am so sorry I just––” Alex trails off because he doesn’t have an excuse. He just forgot there was someone sitting next to him. Which, the longer he looks at his seat neighbour and takes in the jaw line and the lips curving into a smile and the way his eyes haven’t left his–– how the hell did Alex not notice him when he first got on the fucking plane? (He’s going to blame it on how much he hates traveling, it blinds him to all hot people in the vicinity, even if they happen to be right next to him apparently.) He can feel his cheeks growing warm and he realises he’s just staring and hasn’t actually finished his sentence. 

“Fell– neck, y’know?” He gestures vaguely to his neck, and the sleeve of his jumper that’s still on the other man's shoulder and god fucking damn it Alex that wasn’t even a sentence, get it together! If Luke or Julie or Reggie were here right now they would be laughing at him. 

“It’s all good man,” the stranger says with a light laugh and–– god he’s got such pretty eyes that Alex is almost distracted from what he says next, “You seem a little tense there though man. You goo?” 

And see, this is exactly part of the reason why Alex hates traveling. It’s the awkward small talk on the plane or the train or when you’re unfortunate enough to end up next to an extra chatty person on the bus. It’s why he shoves headphones on and pretends he can’t see lips moving. Though, he’s maybe willing to break that rule just a little today.

“Not a big fan of traveling,” is all he says, trying not to grimace about how much of an understatement that is. 

“On planes or just in general?” 

“Just in general. Though after this it might be a plane thing,” he tries to joke, and he’s pretty sure it’s a terrible attempt but the stranger giggles and oh man Alex hadn’t thought he could get cuter. 

“Yeah, this has been a pretty shitty few hours,” he agrees, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment before seeming to decide something, “I’m Willie. By the way. Since we’re going to be stuck next to each other for a while.” 

“Alex. Hi,” and, for some strange reason he lifts his hand and waves at him. That magical teleportation power would come in handy right about now, he decides. 

But, for whatever reason, Willie doesn’t find it weird and they start talking. Alex learns that Willie’s flying back to LA because he’d been in New York for an art show, and that he’s into skateboarding and he looks really good when he ties his hair up in a bun. In turn, Alex tells him about the band and recording their first album and about his weekend. 

“So wait, your parents don’t want you going to the wedding?” Willie asks, body half turned towards him in his chair and there's a look of confusion on his face. 

“They’d didn’t explicitly say that but we all know they’re going to be disappointed when I show up,” he shrugs. It hurts, but it’s also just been a fact of his life for so long now that Alex sometimes forgets that not everyone has the same experience. And anyway, he’s not going for his parents, he’s going for his sister. 

“Man that’s fucked,” he mutters, eyes seeming to zone out for a moment, only to refocus as Alex claps a hand over his mouth to block a yawn. 

“Sorry. I put off going to sleep so I could sleep on the flight but,” he shrugs, shooting Willie a slightly sheepish smile but he just shakes his head, another smile on his lips. 

“You’re all good. When this thing finally takes off you can use me as a pillow,” there’s a slightly teasing edge to his words but a challenge in his eyes. 

And maybe it’s because he’s been stuck in an airport and then on a plane for four hours longer then he’d expected to be, or because he’s just really tired or maybe he’s just feeling brave in the face of his weekend ahead, but Alex smiles back at him and says, “You’re probably much comfier then my jumper.” 

There’s a beat before Willie laughs, knocks his knuckles casually against Alex’s shoulder. Half an hour later, when the pilot announces they’ve been cleared for takeoff and the majority of people cheer, Alex and Willie share a high five, palms lingering maybe a touch too long, but he’s not going to complain. 

He doesn’t sleep on the flight, but he does leave LAX in a taxi with Willie’s number saved in his phone with the first text he’d sent being the address of his sister's wedding and an assurance he didn’t need to bring a gift. 

So okay, maybe traveling isn’t the worst thing in the world.

[darthkruge]

Hi! I've seen that in your recent post you've been trying to make characters more gender neutral which I think is awesome! I'm gonna try and make my request gender neutral as well! I was wondering if you could do a criminal minds imagine (I'll let you choose the character that you wanna write it for cus I love Morgan, Hotch, and Reid equally) where the reader was taken by the unsub but they found her right before the unsub tried to (tw) k!ll the reader. If possible can the end be kinda fluffy♡

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Maybe

Summary: The classic kidnapping fic where the reader is taken by the unsub and Spencer finds them. Fluffy, comfort-filled ending <3

Warnings: Angst, language, violence, blood, guns, knives, torture, near-death experience, kidnapping in general, (happy ending I promise)

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me for taking so long to get to this!! And thank you for making your request gender neutral, too! That’s so thoughtful and sweet! And I decided to go with Spencer, although I also love them all. And yes the end will definitely be fluffy, as the angst with a happy/fluffy ending is basically my brand at this part. Thank you for requesting and, again, I’m so sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!

You woke up and could only register pain. Well, pain and cold. Mind numbing, cuts to your bones, pierces your brain, cold. You tried to look around and get a sense of your surroundings but it was so dark; you could barely make out the shadows in the room, let alone any defining details.  

Judging by the old, dirty smell, you guessed you were in a barn or shed somewhere. You had no idea where; the asshole must have knocked you out. You’d been working the case for weeks. The team thought they found some DNA and were tailing the guy, but it didn’t pan out and, since then, the trail had basically been cold. But then you finally figured out what number to trace, cracked his encoded router, and got a license plate and ID. George Craig. On your way to tell the team, he had messed with your car and was able to jump you. Fuck, you hated him. 

Even so, you refused to give up. You had faith in your team and, most of all, you had faith in Spencer. Your brilliant, gorgeous boyfriend. You loved him more than anything and there was no one in the world you’d want on the case more than him. You knew the team was already looking for you, as it was only 10am when he got you and it was probably at least 7pm now, judging by the temperature and darkness. 

You tried to move your arms but your shoulders screamed in protest. You felt the chains around your legs and the handcuffs binding you to a pole above you. Judging from the pain, your shoulder was almost definitely dislocated. You were sitting at an awkward angle and could already feel your joints tightening. The frigid air definitely wasn’t helping, making your muscles contract and body stiff. 

“Hello, Agent L/N”

Your entire body stilled at that moment, sheer panic running through your veins. Stay calm, Y/N, stay calm. You tried to will air into your lungs, forcing deep breaths even though the terror was screaming at you to close up. You knew this man fed on fear and, thus, your best chance of survival was to pretend you were unphased. Even so, the logic felt severely discomforting with him standing above you, knife and gun in hand. 

“George. What the fuck do you want from me?” Your voice was venomous, the pure hate for him clearly pictured on your face. You decided that if an emotion was going to show, you preferred hate to fear. 

“My, my, my, look at you! I thought you were supposed to be smart. Or is that trait left for your boyfriend. Agent Reid, was it?”

Your blood ran cold. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ohhh, looks like I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” The man had a horrifying smirk on his face, clearly enjoying your struggle. 

You glared at him. “You never answered my question”

“Oh, yes!” George chuckled, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He said, mimicking your voice mockingly. “To kill you, of course. To take you away from Spencer, from the team. To make them feel the pain of losing someone, just like I lost-” 

He trailed off and you saw his eyes burn with anger. And under that anger, you knew there was pain. Even so, you couldn’t feel bad for this man, regardless of who he’d lost. You knew that at the slightest hint of your empathy, he’d take advantage of it and kill you on the spot. 

“You know what? Death would be too easy for you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you out of your misery. Then, and only then, will I shoot you. I will watch the blood run out of the bullet hole and smile, knowing the pain I caused you and your precious team.”

You wanted to cry, the fear pulling at you. Once again, you pushed it down and channeled your rage. Rage because you were in this situation. Rage because this man had ended so many lives. Rage because you were powerless right now. Rage because holy fuck your shoulder hurt. Gathering the fury, you spat at him. 

George’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he brought his leg up and slammed it into your chest. You heaved, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could grasp the air you so desperately needed, George kicked you again. And again. And again. You could feel the bruises forming, your ribs throbbing painfully.

He pulled his fist up and pummeled it into your cheek. Your left cheekbone busted open on impact and your lip split as he backhanded the other side of your face. He slammed the butt of his gun into your temple and your vision swayed, body crumpling as far in on itself as it could, given the restraints. 

He kicked at your legs repeatedly, both of them twisting at painful angles. You felt yourself start to black out, the pain unbearable. Every inch of your skin was ablaze, every muscle felt like it had been sledgehammered. Your bones ached, your body numb from his onslaught, the freezing cold, and the restrictive bonds you’d been in for hours. 

Finally, he took a moment to stop. He looked at you, at your barely conscious and recognizable state. You were beaten to a pulp, your face and body bloodied and broken. You could feel yourself wanting to give in but forced yourself to stay. For yourself, for Spencer, for the team. For that future you always talked about with him. For the house you were saving for, for the dogs and cats and animals you might one day get. For the family you might decide to have. For the idea of peace, you fought. 

George picked up the gun and pointed it at your head. A shot rang free and you braced yourself, a single tear running down your cheek as you realized you would never see your love again. Your ears rang and you felt like time had slowed. You knew the bullet would hit you. Until-

“Y/N, Y/N!” Your name was being called, the gentle yet panicked voice cutting through the ringing in your head. You tentatively opened your eyes and saw George’s body on the floor, blood oozing out of him. You slowly moved your eyes around, trying to take in your surroundings. 

Everything was overwhelming. Nothing was registering properly in your brain. It was just sounds filtering in an out, vision flickering. You felt like you were floating through the ringing in your ears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook. You didn’t know why you were shaking. The cold. The shock, you reasoned. Both seemed likely. It was like there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Your body was shutting down. Somehow, this gave you understanding. 

You felt the handcuffs around your wrists release and your arms dropped limply. You knew you should feel pain from your dislocated shoulder but, instead, you just let your eyes closed and felt your body fall. The last thing you remembered was coming into contact with a Kevlar vest, messy brown hair, and a familiar sense of warmth. 

When you awoke, you felt yourself being gently jostled. Your eyes slowly opened and you took in him. Spencer was looking at you, concern evident on his features.

“Hi.” You said, voice hoarse. 

“Hi, angel. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You nodded, allowing him to help support your weight as you stepped out of the car. You leaned heavily into him, your legs badly injured. Spencer wrapped his arm snug around your waist as the two of you slowly but surely made it into your shared apartment. 

He helped you sit on the couch before moving to join you. 

“I’m surprised they let you take me home. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital, for sure.”

“They did take you there, love. You were at the hospital for a few hours but you were in and out of consciousness. You’ll heal, don’t worry. A few broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, severe bruising, sprains on your legs and ankles.”

“Plus a busted face” You add drily.

 Spencer wasn’t amused by your attempt at sarcasm. Instead, he just pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been with you! If I was there, if I was quicker-”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself for this! No one could have known. Besides, you saved me. And I’m not just talking about that in the literal sense. When he was beating me, when I was broken down, I thought of you.  I thought of our future, our dream. Holding onto that is the only reason I didn’t give up.”

Spencer’s eyes were filled with tears as he went to gently cup your face. He couldn’t find the words to express the love and relief he felt. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms” 

You moved to hug him but winced. Even though the doctors had patched you up pretty well, the soreness and pain lingered and probably would continue like that for at least the next couple of days. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go to bed. I think you’ll feel better once you lay down, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You followed him into the room, holding his hand the entire time. Spencer noticed but didn’t mind, he knew you were just looking for comfort, exceedingly normal for what you’d just gone through. 

You laid down, settling against the pillows and fluffy blankets Spencer had prepared for you. 

“Do you need anything, baby?”

“Water?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you before moving to get up but you quickly grabbed his hand, panic overtaking you at the thought of being alone. You looked at him helplessly, hoping your gaze would convey the words that died on your tongue. 

Spencer nodded knowingly. He helped you out of bed, pulling you along with him as the two of you went to the kitchen. He wordlessly got you the drink, making sure to keep touching you the entire way. Finally, you made it back and the both of you crawled into bed. You laid on your uninjured shoulder, placing your cheek on Spencer’s chest. His arm came around you, holding you to him and drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

You closed your eyes and were immediately sent back to the shed. You tensed, pulling back. Spencer caught on and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t get to you anymore.”

“I know. Rationally, I know. But my brain won’t shut off. It’s like, whenever I’m not actively thinking about something else or looking at something else or hearing something else, it just comes back. Spence, I can’t- I can’t sleep. I just, I’m sure it’ll come back to me tonight.” Your voice broke, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I can handle reliving it and I’m so fucking exhausted. But I can’t rest because I can’t escape the nightmares.”

Spencer wanted so badly to comfort you but didn’t know what he could do. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take the pain away. He wished he could put the trauma onto himself but, unfortunately, he was powerless. Thus, he offered understanding. He gave validation. He gave kindness and pure, nonjudgmental love. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you and I know that doesn’t do much right now but I am. I’ll be here when the nightmares come and I’ll be here when the flashbacks try and drag you under. I’ll be here when the trauma starts to fade but suddenly reappears and I’ll be here 20 years from now, when the memory will still be real and painful but not all-consuming. I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here always. Please, tell me what to do to help you.” Spencer begged, hoping beyond all hope that there was something he could do to ease your suffering.

“Read to me?”

“Wha- what?”

“Read to me.” You repeated, more assured this time. “I’m thinking that if I can hear your voice, maybe it’ll drown out my brain. Or something. I don’t know. I just want to hear your voice, it’s soothing. Please?”

Spencer was taken aback. He didn’t think something so simple could help you. He didn’t know his sheer presence brought you that much serenity. “Yeah, of course. Of course! Yeah, any preference?”

“Not really. Whatever’s here?”

“Okay, love.” Spencer picked up his current read and began in the middle. You felt the rumble of his chest, the vibrations of his voice and felt more at ease. The anxiety was still there, the panic never far away. And yet, curled into him, his breath tickling your ear, his body warming yours, it suddenly felt alright. Like maybe you hadn’t gone through some life-altering trauma. Or maybe you had but your life wasn’t over because of it. Maybe you’d heal. Maybe, if you could find a moment of peace now, you’d find more later. Maybe? Yeah, You thought. You could work with maybe.

--

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[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Eight

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

-Henry David Thoreau

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

1:38pm, January 6th, 1925

Roni finds herself much more confident as she wanders the streets today.  She’s got the wad of Harry’s cash in her pocket that he’d left on the dining room table for her-- along with a note that told her to spend it on something delicious for dinner.  She isn’t exactly sure where the supermarket is, but somehow she doesn’t have any sort of problem asking for directions now.

The tension between her and Harry had subsided by the morning.  Something about the rest of the night following their confessions of how they felt for one another felt too intimate-- too fragile to be spoiled with any other words.  And that had been fine by Roni; she had already been feeling vulnerable and was worried that even the smallest thing would send her rocketing into the moon with embarrassment.  Harry had seemed to be on the same page as her, and the only communication between the two for the next few minutes had been soft kisses-- expressing everything they’d wanted to say without words.

They’d fallen asleep holding one another, and Harry had woken Roni with a soft kiss this morning before slipping off to work.  The dynamic between them feels different now in the best kind of way, but somehow Roni can’t seem to shake the vulnerability she feels.

The afternoon air feels colder than usual, and looking back Roni realizes she should have snagged one of Harry’s coats from his bedroom closet before she’d left.  She settles instead for wrapping her soft coverup a bit tighter around her shoulders and shoving her icy hands into the pockets, putting a bit more pep into her step as she walks against the wind.

The supermarket isn’t very difficult to find, and Roni is delighted in herself after only having to ask one woman for directions.  The building is much bigger than she’d anticipated and she feels only slightly overwhelmed upon entering. She picks up a small basket and scans the aisles for a place to start.

Harry had only requested “something delicious” for dinner, but he hadn’t specified what he enjoyed-- which, up until now, Roni hadn’t seen as a problem.  Admittedly, she hadn’t given much thought to the situation, and now that she’s faced with seemingly endless aisles, she’s hit with the realization that she can’t just microwave something and call it a day.

She doesn’t have too much trouble getting a few things into her basket, and she begins to form a general idea of something delicious she can make for the two of them to share. She wants to make sure the evening is romantic, so she splurges a bit and buys a few new candles to light and place in the middle of their table.  

It’s when Roni finds herself debating between two different brands of milk that she suddenly gets the unshakeable feeling of being watched.

She grows instantly nervous, praying to God that it isn’t Howard again (or someone else who’s decided to be equally creepy).  She halts her movements, hoping that the feeling will pass.  When it doesn’t, however, she turns slowly on her heel to find where the feeling is coming from.

Roni is instantly relieved when she’s greeted by a small girl-- seemingly no older than about six. The little girl looks nervously up at Roni, as if she wants to say something but is too afraid, and Roni smiles warmly at her.

“Hi there,” she greets in the voice reserved mostly for children.

The little girl takes her bottom lip between her teeth as if contemplating if she fully wants to commit to talking to this stranger.  Roni offers her a gentle smile, trying to express to her that she isn’t going to hurt her, and the little girl softens a bit.  She points shyly at Roni’s hand.

“I like your ring, ma’am,” she says quietly.

“My ring?”  Roni glances down at her mood ring, and tries to hide the sudden jolt of panic down her spine when she realizes that mood rings haven’t yet been invented.  She smiles sweetly back at the child and decides that the best course of action would be to explain it to her.  “Thank you!! It’s called a mood ring.”

“A mood ring?”  The child speaks at a more normal volume now, and she takes a hesitant but curious step in Roni’s direction.  “What’s that?”

“Well,” Roni says slowly.  “You put it on, and it changes colors according to what you’re feeling.”

The little girl’s eyes stayed glued to the jewel on Roni’s finger, and she lets out a soft but astonished little gasp.  “Really?”

“M-hm!  Would you like to try it?”

Now the child’s eyes shoot up to meet Roni’s, and her smile deepens.  “May I, please?”

“Of course!”  Roni twists the ring off of her finger and hands it to the child, placing it in the center of her palm.  “It might be a little bit big for you, love.  Close your hand around it,” she closes her own hand and the child follows,  “and now hold it to your chest.  Like this.”  Roni demonstrates her words and the little girl mirrors her eagerly.  “There you go!”  Roni beams.  “Now we just wait for a couple of seconds.”

“How do you know what the colors mean?”

“I used to have a guide,” Roni explains.  “But then I memorized it and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Wow,” the little girl breathes, looking down at her tiny first as if it contains all the secrets of the universe.  “Is this magic?”

Roni chuckles softly under her breath.  Because sure, it’s just a cheap stone that changes colors due to some type of reaction to temperatures or something of the sort.  (She’s never actually looked into it really.)  But she remembers being this little girl’s age.  She remembers the magic she thought was inside of the mood ring every time her mother wore it; the magic she believed her mother possessed.  She remembers how absolutely mind blowing this concept was to her, and thinks how incredible it must be to a child in 1925.

So she nods.  “It is,” she says quietly.  “But it only works if you believe in it with all of your heart.”

The little girl wastes no time in squeezing her eyes shut tight and Roni works to suppress the giggle threatening to bubble out as she watches her.  She takes this time to really look at the child, trying to identify the strange but familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.  There’s something about this little girl, maybe she’s famous or she’s a child in one of the yellowing photographs on the book shop wall.  She’s got dirty blonde hair and a tiny nose, and Roni is almost certain she’s seen this child before, but she cannot put her finger on where.

Roni is completely lost in her thoughts when the little girl peeks one brown eye open and looks back at her.  “Is it done yet?”

Roni laughs, taking the child’s fist in her hand and tapping her fingers to signal her to open them up.  “I think you should be all set, let’s see what you got!”

Both the child and Roni peek at the stone in the little girl’s hand, trying to decipher if the color they see is purple or pink.  “I think it’s pink!” The little girl says excitedly.  “What does that mean?”

“Pink means you’re happy!”  Roni beams.  “Are you happy?”

When the child nods, her blond curls bounce.  “M-hm!  I want one of those rings for myself so I can show Linda at school!  Wouldn’t she be surprised?”

For a split second Roni considers offering the ring to the child.  As quickly as the thought comes, however, it is replaced with a mental slap to the face.  On what planet would she feel comfortable enough to give her mother’s ring to a stranger? And anyway, if she were to give it to her, what would happen to her timeline?  Mood rings aren’t invented yet and won't be invented for another fifty years or so.  So Roni laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably, and nods.  “Oh I’m sure she would be, love! But you might have to wait until you’re a bit older.”

The little girl frowns.  “Why?”

And truthfully, Roni doesn’t have an answer.  Not any answer that would make any type of logical sense, anway.

“Well, it’s--”

“There you are!”  The sound of heels quickly approaching saves Roni from her current predicament, and Roni rises to her feet when she hears them.

A well dressed woman comes scurrying down the long aisle, dressed in a coat and heels and also looking strangely familiar.  She doesn’t even seem to notice Roni at all, her eyes are glued to the little girl and she seems both relieved and annoyed.

“How many times have I told you not to wander away from me?” she says as she approaches.  She takes the little girl’s hand in her own.  “You scared me half to death!”

The child nods up at Roni.  “But this nice lady was--”

The woman sighs, obviously frustrated, and cuts her off.  “You can’t go around talking to strangers like that.  I’m sure this nice lady is very busy, so you apologize for bothering her right now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!” Roni speaks up.  “Honestly. We had a lovely conversation.”

The little girl beams.  “M-hm! And she showed me her magic ring!”  She holds the ring up to her mother and Roni holds her breath, praying that this woman thinks nothing of the ring that has yet to be invented.

Luckily, the woman seems quite disinterested.  “Judy, darling, you give this nice lady her ring back at once.”

Roni’s blood instantly runs cold at the woman’s words.

Surely it can’t be…

The little girl, Judy, sighs defeatedly.  She doesn’t look up at Roni again, but she holds the ring out for Roni to take.  “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Roni moves as if in slow motion, taking her ring back and placing it numbly back on her  finger.  She swallows thickly, looking from the little girl to her mother.  The girl’s mother makes eye contact with Roni for the first time in this entire interaction, and suddenly a strange look crosses her face as well.

Roni recalls a story that her grandmother had told her when she’d first started showing interest in time travel.

“To answer your first question,” she says,   “I don’t know what I believe.”  She gives Roni’s hand a squeeze before adding pointedly, “But, I know I met someone when I was a little girl.  She was… this beautiful woman with the kindest heart.  And she had a mood ring, similar to the one your mother wore. Those hadn’t been invented yet, which hadn’t occurred to me until I was several years older.  And she seemed…”  Judy trails off again, smiling to herself.  “Otherworldly.  I don’t know how to explain what I saw in her.  I don’t think I ever will.”

“Was it mom?”  Roni’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and Judy shakes her head.

“It definitely wasn’t your mother.  I don’t know who she was.  Just a stranger, I think.  But I could just tell that she knew something I didn’t.  I’ve always wondered what happened to her.  Where she came from.  Where she went.”

The way Judy’s mother looks at Roni is all the confirmation Roni needs.

She’s meeting her grandmother and her great grandmother, and they have no idea.  

“I’m--” the mother stammers,  “I’m so sorry, darling, what is your name?  You look awfully familiar.”

Roni clears her throat, trying to cover how nervous she is. “Veronica,” she says.  “Veronica…. Styles.”  

It’s the first name she can think of, and she fears (most likely irrationally) that if she reveals her true last name, something in her timeline will shift.  So she sticks to her guns, hoping that she doesn’t seem suspicious.

The older woman blinks a few times, obviously trying to make sense of what she’s seeing.  There’s a long pause that feels like hours, and Roni’s face grows uncomfortably hot.  She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until the woman speaks.

“Forgive me for staring,” she says,  “it’s just that…”  She trails off, shaking her head.  

Roni blinks, forcing a stiff smile.  She wants to say something-- literally anything at all, but nothing is coming out.  The woman laughs in spite of herself.

“It can’t be,” she says, as if to herself.

Roni can’t help herself.  “What can’t be?”

“Oh, I apologize.  It’s just that… well, you look an awful lot like my sister Hazel.”

In spite of the tension, Roni can’t help but to laugh softly in disbelief.  Her entire life, her grandma Judy had told her that she looked like “Aunt Hazel.”  Hazel had died a few years before Roni was born, but even from the pictures Roni was shown, she knew the resemblance was uncanny.  Which is why this is all the proof she needs.

“Oh really?”  Roni smiles, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.  “Oh how very interesting.  Did you know that it was proven that there are roughly seven people in the entire world who look exactly like you?”

The woman blinks back at Roni, then laughs hesitantly.  “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh.”  There’s a brief pause, and then Roni laughs awkwardly.  “Well in any case, maybe I’m miss Hazel’s doppelganger!”

“Yes,” the woman says, still eyeing Roni with a nervous smile, as if completely unsure about her still.  “Well in any case, I’m so sorry that my Judy bothered you.”

“It was no trouble,” Roni says.  She turns down to Judy.  “It was very lovely chatting with you Judy!”

Judy smiles shyly up at Roni, and her mother nudges her.  “What do you say, dear?”

“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” Judy mumbles.

The older woman finishes up the conversation and guides Judy away from Roni, not without glancing back over her shoulder a few times back at this bizarre girl with the bizarre ring who looks bizarrely like her sister.

Roni has to resist the urge to glance back as well, trying desperately not to make the situation any weirder than it is.  She can feel herself growing dizzy, and the moment that Judy and her mother are out of her sight, Roni grasps onto the shelf to balance herself.

This situation may just take the cake as far as surreal experiences over the past few days goes.  Roni had pictured this very story in her head many times, wondering what the “beautiful woman” her grandmother had described looked like.  The thought, however, was never actively at the front of her brain-- rather, it was tucked away in the corners of her mind.  And now to find out that it was, in fact, her this entire time, she feels faint.   She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head as she tries to process what just occurred.

Roni is brought from her thoughts when she hears somebody clear their throat.  She looks up to see a stern looking woman glancing expectantly at her, and realizes at the same time that she is blocking the canned soup.

Roni straightens up immediately, straightening out her dress.  “My apologies,” she mutters, scooping up her basket and making her way hurriedly out of the aisle.

----

It takes Roni about twenty more minutes to finish up her shopping, and as she heads out into the cold day she dreads the walk home; even though it isn’t far at all, she has tons of bags that are already leaving marks on her arm.  She takes a deep breath and blows it out in a puff of air that is visible in front of her before beginning her journey.

“Roni!”

Roni freezes in her tracks just as quickly as she began when she hears her name being called from behind her, and she prays that it isn’t another member of her family.  She turns slowly as she hears footsteps approaching her, and is relieved to find Daisy Hartford scurrying towards her.

Daisy seems out of breath when she reaches Roni  “Hello, dear! So nice to see you!”

She envelops Roni in a hug, and kisses her cheek, taking Roni by surprise.  Roni smiles warmly, strangely comforted by Daisy’s presence.  “Daisy! How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just fine!” Daisy speaks quickly and excitedly.  “Larry has taken over the shop today, so I was finally able to get out and complete some errands.  You know your Harry is such a quick learner, we basically cut his training short! And he’s in good hands with my Larry.  I stopped in for a bit this morning and the two were chatting like old pals! Isn’t that funny?  Harry and Larry?”

Roni giggles, her head practically whirling from how quickly Daisy is speaking and her heart full because of course Daisy and her husband have fallen under Harry’s spell. She nods.  “Harry is quite the hard worker,” she agrees.  “I’m awfully proud of him.”

“As you should be, honey!  And Larry and I just adore him.  We’ve been talking about having you both over for dinner sometime soon, in fact!”

Daisy’s words are a bitter reminder of how short Roni’s time here remains, and she has to swallow down the lump that begins to rise in her throat.  She laughs, brushing it off.  “Yes,” she says, “That would be lovely.”  Immediately an idea pops into her head that helps her both change the subject and calm some of her anxieties.

“Hey, speaking of dinner…”

“Yes, dear?”

Roni doesn’t know why this makes her so nervous to ask, but she knows she’ll be glad she did.  “Well, I’m fixing a chicken for dinner this evening, and--”

“Ooh!” Daisy squeals, clapping her hands together.  “I love a good chicken dinner!”

Roni smiles.  “So do I! But the trouble is, I’m not a very good cook.”  It isn’t exactly the truth, but for the life of her Roni cannot seem to figure out a better way to explain to Daisy that she doesn’t know how on earth to work many of the gadgets in these old fashioned kitchens.  She continues her speech.  “I’m not terrible, it’s just that… well, cooking these rather large meals for two has proved more difficult than I’d imagined.”

Daisy giggles.  “I know what you mean.  Before I married Larry, I had no earthly idea how to cook.  I had to buy dozens of cookbooks, and even then I would still ruin the meals sometimes! It just takes a bit of practice, my love.  I’ll let you borrow some books if you’d like!”

Roni shakes her head.  “No, no.  You keep your books.  I was just wondering if maybe you’d have any advice for me?  I never really get to do this sort of thing for Harry, so I’m trying to surprise him and make it special, you know?”

Daisy squeals again.  “Well darling, why didn’t you say so?  I just love surprises. Of course I’d be willing to help you!

Roni lets out a sigh of relief.  “Thanks, Daisy.  You’re an angel.”

“Oh it’s nothing, honey! Why don’t you come with me to my place?  I’ll write down one of my favorite recipes.”

“That would be lovely! I want to impress him, you know?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically.  “I know!” she giggles. “What are you going to wear?”

Blood rushes to Roni’s cheeks at Daisy’s words.  She only has two dresses, both of which Harry not only has seen her in but bought for her, and she suddenly feels self conscious.  “I… I was just thinking of wearing this.”

Daisy gasps dramatically, as if Roni has just told her something completely awful.  “Oh, honey, no!  I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful of course, but this sounds like a special occasion.  Haven’t you got anything more… I don’t know, vibrant?”

Roni knows that Daisy means no harm, but she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt.  Still, she giggles.  “I’m afraid not,” she says.  “When I moved in with Harry I…” she trails off, trying to come up with the perfect way to describe this. “I had to leave a lot of my clothes at home.  So, this is really all I’ve got.”

“Oh you poor dear.”  Daisy frowns, but it is quickly replaced by her bright smile before Roni can even take offense.  “Say, I’ve got an idea!  We seem to be about the same size, and have I got the perfect dress for you! The color will go so beautifully with your complexion.  I bought it for one of my first dates with Larry but I haven’t worn it since. Oh honey, you’ll look like an angel in it! It was made for you, I’m sure. Say yes?”

Roni smiles at Daisy’s generosity, but she does feel bad.  “Oh, I don’t want to put you out--”

“It’s no trouble!”  Daisy reaches for Roni’s hand, tugging a bit.  “Oh, you’ll look divine.  Like a dream! And I can do your hair for you if you’d like!  Harry will die when he sees you.  Simply die!”

Roni giggles to herself.  Truth be told, she does want to get all dressed up for Harry.  She knows he would be so surprised and pleased to see her dressed head to toe in an authentic dress that isn’t one that he bought for her.  Plus, her inner child is begging her to play dress up, just to see what she’s going to look like in the end.  It sounds fun, and Daisy seems far too enthusiastic for Roni to turn her down.

So she nods.  “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, doll! But we’d better hurry, Harry gets off at 7!”

----

It doesn’t take long to get to Daisy’s house, and the interior of the small bungalow looks exactly how Roni would picture Daisy’s home to look.  It’s well decorated, with everything in its place-- and it smells floral.  The window sills are littered with plants, and the shelves with books.  One book lays open in the middle of the coffee table, which Daisy apologizes for.  “I always tell Larry to clean up after himself but… well, you know men.”

Daisy tells Roni to make herself at home while she puts her groceries away, and Roni marvels at the tiny kitchen.  She observes all the plates and dishes that would be considered antique in her day, and the cookbooks with recipes that she can hardly even read.  She stops when she notices the camera from the book shop sitting on a ledge, with a few black and white photographs scattered around it. Beside the mess, a large black pen sits— which Roni figures Daisy was using to date the photos.

Some of the photographs are of Daisy and Larry, smiling together and doing various things around the house. Some are pictures of patrons at the book shop. And then, a picture that makes Roni’s heart instantly skip a beat.

There’s the picture of Harry, standing in his little cap beside the pile of books, taken yesterday at the shop. The picture that Roni had looked at countless times in the future.  Now her favorite picture to ever exist.

She squints to see the date that Daisy had written on the bottom, and it makes her giggle.

“You got it wrong,” Roni says.

“Hm?” Daisy turns, only halfway listening as she busies herself with the groceries.

“The date. On this picture of Harry. You wrote 1924. It’s 1925.”

“Oh!” Daisy smacks her forehead, wincing at herself. “Silly me. I keep doing that! Can’t seem to remember that it’s the new year!” She drops the loaf of bread she’s currently holding onto the counter and makes her way over to Roni. “I’ll scratch it out and correct it now.”

“Wait!” Roni doesn’t mean to speak with such a sense of urgency, but when she does it takes both her and Daisy by surprise. Roni scrambles to think of an explanation— a way to put into words the fact that she’s always seen this photograph dated 1924, even in 1999. If something as simple as that changes now, she’s afraid of the domino effect that could potentially change other things as well.

So Roni laughs, almost uncomfortably, trying to brush off her sense of urgency.   “I just… feel like that would ruin the whole… aesthetic?... of the picture.   You know?”

Daisy’s face scrunches up.  “The what?”

Roni tries again.  ‘Well I mean, it’s just such a cute picture.  I think if you were to scratch out the date and rewrite it, it’ll make it look… well, sloppy.  Do you know what I mean?  I say just leave it.  No ones going to really notice.  If anything it just makes it look like Harry’s worked for you longer, you know?  Which isn’t a bad thing.  I feel like that’s actually a great thing.  For you and the company.”

She’s rambling.  She knows she’s rambling, but god she’s so nervous the more she thinks about this.  As little of a deal as it may seem, she really doesn’t feel like messing with the fabric of her future like this.  If the photograph is dated 1924 in 1999, then that must mean it was never corrected.  And that means--

Daisy giggles, taking Roni from her thoughts.  “My goodness,” she says.  “You’ve got it so bad for this boy, haven’t you?”

This takes Roni by surprise, but it’s a welcome change of subject.  “Is it that obvious?” She shrugs.

“Oh, darling.  I see the way you look at him.  And look at you now! You see one picture of him and you’ve gone all silly!”

Roni isn’t sure if she should take offense or not, and Daisy laughs again.  “It’s a good thing! Means you’re with the right man.  I get the same way around my honey.”

The heat radiating off of Roni’s cheeks is almost uncomfortable, and she giggles awkwardly.  Because Daisy does have a point. Daisy beams.  “See?  Look at you, just the mention of his name and you get as giggly as a school girl.  It’s adorable.”

“Yeah,” Roni says.  “I guess so.”

“But you are right, I suppose.”  Daisy nods her head.  “It would look sort of sloppy wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Roni says, and Daisy nods again.

“Right.  Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to leave it then, won’t I?  Sort of like a fun little secret for just us! Although it isn’t a very funny secret.”

“No,” Roni agrees, “it’s not.  But it’s like a hidden easter egg that only we know about!”

Daisy claps her hands together.  “Oh, Roni, I just love the way you think!”

Roni laughs, taking Daisy’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. As Daisy lets her residual giggles die down, she speaks.  “Now, don’t you think we ought to get started?  Not that we have a lot of work to do, what with your natural beauty and all.  But there is so much to teach you, in such little time!”

“Yes, I reckon we’d better get on with it.”  

Daisy needs no other encouragement, she’s already squealing and dragging Roni back into the kitchen, rambling on and on a mile a minute about everything they’re going to be doing.  “First we’ll get the recipe squared away.  Then I can do your hair, while you copy down the recipe with a pen.  Then we’ll dress you.  Oh I just can’t wait to see what you’ll look like!  And then--”

Half of Roni wonders what exactly she’s gotten herself into with this plan.  But Daisy seems so excited, and she knows that Harry will be, too.  So she allows herself to relax into the moment, still relieved that the fate of the universe (and the inaccurate date on the photograph) is safe for one more day.

---

It’s about 7:30pm when Roni finally hears Harry’s keys in the door, and the nervous feeling in the pit of Roni’s belly only intensifies.  After leaving Daisy’s, she’d spent the better half of her day cooking, setting up the apartment, and overthinking everything.  Daisy had given her all the tools she needed for success tonight, but something in her is causing her anxiety to completely spike.   The long candles on the table flicker vigorously, and the soft music of the victrola in the corner of the room echoes softly.  In the five seconds that it takes Harry to get his door unlocked, Roni’s thoughts run a mile a minute.

What if Harry thinks her outfit looks silly?  What if the meal tastes like garbage?  What if the house doesn’t smell good enough? What if--

Roni doesn’t have time to continue worrying when she sees the door open, and when Harry walks in, her heart rate increases.  

He looks cold, his nose red and shiny and his curls extra curly under his little cap.  He doesn’t seem to notice anything different at first, and he seems a bit winded as he locks the door behind him.  He begins removing his coat, turning on his heels and then stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Roni.

Roni smiles nervously back at him, looking like an absolute vision.  She’s in a pink silk dress that fits her perfectly, hugging her every curve in the exact right places.  The fabric shimmers in the dim light of the apartment, and the soft frills along the trim of the skirt make Harry’s heart skip a beat.  While Roni had hand copied Daisy’s favorite chicken recipe, Daisy had insisted on styling Roni’s hair (which Roni had happily agreed to), and now it looks so perfectly gelled and in place. In perfect 1920s fashion, it’s wavy at the top and curled at the bottom-- just ghosting against the top of her bare shoulders (both of which are just begging to be kissed).  Harry can tell she’s nervous and feels a bit out of place, but that makes her look all the more adorably beautiful, and he practically runs to her the moment he gets his coat off.  

Harry goes to hurriedly drape his coat on the coat rack, but he misses and it falls to the floor with a thud.  Roni giggles, and in a blink Harry has closed the space between them, kissing her smile and pulling her in by her hips.

Roni’s bubbly giggles die down as she kisses him back, but neither of them can contain their smiles.  Harry pulls away but doesn’t once remove his hands from her waist.  “Veronica,” he breathes.  “Bunny, what is this?”

“Do you like it?”  Roni steps back, taking the skirt of her dress in her hands and giving it a little swish.  “Do I look alright?”

“Baby,” Harry breathes, eyeing her up and down and taking his time with it.  “You’re a vision.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot, and she giggles nervously.  “Never had my hair done this way before,” she admits.  “I thought it might look silly, but I actually kind of like it.”

“It suits you,” Harry says, nodding.  He’s beaming at her like she hung the moon, and it makes her giggle.

After a long beat of silence, Roni squirms under Harry’s gaze. “Why are you staring at me?” she pouts.

“Is that not what you want?” he replies, matter-of-factly.  His dimple pops, looking extra kissable, and Roni wants nothing more than to reach up and poke at it.

“Well--”

Harry steps forward, raising his hand to lightly trail his fingertips along the skin of her exposed arm.  He scratches lightly at the strap of the dress against her shoulder, smiling when he notices the goosebumps prickling her skin.  “Can’t believe you did all this for me.”  He leans forward, ghosting his lips along her neck.  “Why?”

“I just… wanted to do something special,” Roni says quietly, fidgeting softly with her ring and barely glancing up at Harry beneath her lashes.  “I don’t want to focus on like, the bad stuff.  I want to be happy right now while I’ve still got you.  Is that okay?”

Harry doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry so he settles on gripping Roni’s hips and pulling her impossibly closer for a long kiss.  She’s so lovely, and she looks and smells like an absolute dream.  When he pulls away, Harry buries his nose in the crook of her neck just to get a whiff of what smells so deliciously like Roni and some expensive perfume he’s never learned the name of.

“That sounds lovely, honey.”

She smiles at nothing in particular.  “Yeah?”

When he pulls away, he’s got a soft-eyed expression mixed with an overwhelmed smile on his face.  “Yeah.”

Roni frowns.  “Now don’t go all misty on me.  I’m serious.  The whole point of this was to not do that! To just pretend for like, one night that everything is okay.”

Harry chuckles, slipping a hand around Roni’s waist and pulling her closer again.  He presses a velvety kiss to the wrinkles on her forehead, and smiles when he feels them soften.  “I haven’t gone misty,” he says.   “Just… just lucky.  That’s all.”

Roni sighs, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her skin.  Something about all of this feels so strangely right; the clothes that she never thought would look good on her, the way her hair is done up with multiple pins practically stabbing her scalp, the gentle music from this era playing softly through the apartment.  She refuses to think about what’s coming in the next few days, and fully immerses herself in the daydream that she is, in fact, Harry’s wife.

She clears her throat, busying herself instead with the food in the kitchen. “I made us some chicken for tonight with some roasted vegetables! Although now that I think about it, I suppose I should’ve asked if you even liked chicken.  Which, if you don’t, that’s completely fine.  We can have something else.  But the veggies should be good!”

Harry laughs.  “Slow down, my sweet girl.  Why are you so nervous?”  He takes a step towards her.  “It’s just me.”

“I know,” she says softly.  “I just… want this to be perfect, you know?”

“Well,” he says,  “if it’s even half as good as it smells, then I’d say it’s more than perfect.”  He grins.  “Even if it’s not.  You’ve outdone yourself.”  

Roni smiles, obviously proud of herself.  “And!” she says, turning to flip the stove off. “Daisy taught me how to work the victrola.  It’s not as hard as it looks, but it did take me a minute to figure out.  It’s kind of intimidating.”

Harry doesn’t respond, he just watches her with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face as she continues to ramble about her day.  He really doesn’t know why she seems so anxious about all of this, and he’s hardly listening to her as he admires how beautiful she looks.  The mere sight of her-- dressed like this, cooking for him, going out of her way to ensure that this is the perfect evening-- is enough to call tears to his eyes, and he has to refrain from thinking too hard about the situation lest they spill down his cheeks.

With oven mitts that are far too big for her hands, Roni removes the chicken from Harry’s humble stove, and Harry’s mouth waters at the sight of it.  “How did you--”

“Daisy,” she answers.  “She gave me the recipe.”  Roni looks at him with eyes the size of saucers.  “I hope it’s good.”

“Please,” Harry says, closing the space between them.  “Stop worrying.”  He leans in, kissing her nose softly before speaking again, just above a whisper.  “I love you.”

His words make Roni’s heart skip a beat. She’d nearly forgotten their love confessions from the previous night, and now hearing Harry say these words to her again makes her just as giddy as before.

“I love you, too,” she says, and Harry hums-- leaning in to kiss at her neck.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, too.” Roni giggles.

“One more time?  Didn’t quite catch that.”  He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear and she laughs loudly.

“I love you, you lunatic!” She squeals when Harry squeezes at her hips, pinning her to his body. “No!”

Harry laughs, freeing her finally but only enough to take her hand in his.  He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes in the light.  “God,” he says, “this dress makes you look like a princess.”

“You mean I didn’t before?” She teases.

“No, no, you did, but this-- wow.”

It’s all so amusing to Roni.  He hadn’t thought much of the skimpy, futuristic dress she’d arrived in.  But this dress, one that exposes only her bare shoulders and nothing more, has him utterly gobsmacked, and she’s so endeared by it.

“I made sure to get one that showed a bit of skin.”  She pokes at his tummy.  “Know you’re into that sort of thing.”

Harry snorts.  “Please. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d be into it.”

“Oh yeah?” Roni wiggles her eyebrows.  “Kinky thing, aren’t you?”

This time, Harry’s face does twist up in confusion.  “Kinky?”

“You’ve never heard that word before?”

“No I have, I just… feel like I haven’t heard it… in the context that you just said it?  What does it mean?”

Roni grows a little bit self conscious, but she laughs in spite of herself.  “It means like… you’re into some crazy stuff in bed.  Like, you’re turned on by something other than just… vanilla stuff?  I guess?”  Harry stares blankly back at her, and her cheeks grow hot. “You knnoooow,” she tries again. “Kinky!”

“Are you kinky?” Harry asks, lips curling up into his signature dimpled smirk.

And shit, this is not the conversation she’d been expecting to have with Harry tonight.

Not that she’s complaining, of course.

“I mean…” She involuntarily swallows the lump in her throat, and it makes an almost choking noise.  Harry beams.  “Yeah.  Kinda.  Yeah.”

“Really?”  Harry leans casually against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.  “What sort of things do you enjoy?”

Roni averts her gaze, focusing on the cooling chicken on top of the stove.  She has an answer for him, of course, but she’s realizing that it’s much harder to put into words than she’d been anticipating.  At home with Oliver, they’d been together for so long that they sort of grew into their kinks together.  They learned what the other liked without ever having to really articulate it much.  But now, having to explain it, to have to put it into words for Harry while he’s grinning at her-- and looking like that-- makes Roni’s skin itch.

“Veronica.”  Harry softens a bit, but his dimple never leaves his cheek.  “You don’t have to tell me, bunny.”

And now she frowns.  “No, no! I want to.  I just… I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never had to like, communicate it before.”

“I see.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else, but he watches her with a look that is both simultaneously daunting and comforting.  Roni licks her lips and takes a deep breath.

“I’m into like… fairly normal kinky stuff, I guess.  Like nothing too wild.  But I like being--” her voice goes significantly quieter, “-teased… and… sometimes choked….”

Harry visibly tenses, but he remains as cool as possible-- his smirk only deepening.  “Choked, huh?  Never thought anyone could enjoy that.”

“It’s pretty common,” Roni explains quickly.  “Like, I swear people like it.  I’m not weird.”

“Never said you were weird.”  Harry’s eyes twinkle, and Roni becomes painfully aware of the heat that is radiating off of her cheeks.

“Um…” she continues again, still hesitant. “So yeah.  I like that.  And sometimes I like being… uh….” She practically whispers the last word.  “Spanked.”

Now, Harry does physically react.  He raises his eyebrows, and his bottom lip juts out as if impressed.  “Y’like being spanked huh?  Never knew anyone who enjoyed that either.”

“I mean, if you think it’s weird--”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists, shaking his head.  “Believe me. It’s probably the least weird thing I could imagine.  Will you relax?”  He closes the space between them once again, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles up to his lipps.  “It’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard in my life, if I’m honest. And I don’t even understand why.”

Roni chuckles.  “That’s kind of the point, I think. No one really gets why.  But it’s like, taboo, you know?  And that’s the fun of it.”

“Mm.”  Harry grins.  “Anything else I should know about?”

Roni’s stomach twists at his words. “Um…”  She gulps.  “I mean…”  Her voice is so quiet that Harry has to lean in closer to hear her.  “I like being tied up.”

“Tied up?  Like… restrained while you’re being fucked?”

Roni turns her head to hide her embarrassment.  “I mean when you say it out loud it sounds kinda funky but--”

“No no!” Harry assures her.  “My god, bunny, no.  Are you joking?  M’getting hard just thinking about seeing you all tied up for me.”

“A boner before dinner?”  Roni teases, trying to lighten the situation to cover up her obvious nerves. “After I worked so hard?”

“That might be part of it actually,” Harry chuckles.  “A delicious meal made by a delicious girl who likes to be… what was the word? Kinky?”

Roni giggles.  “Kinky.  Yeah.”

Harry grins.  “Yeah.  Fucking love it.”

There’s a charged silence that lingers between the two of them, and Roni grows increasingly anxious (in the best sort of way).  She clears her throat.  “Anyway! Dinner is going to get cold, so we should probably--”

Harry cuts her off with a heated kiss directly to her still open mouth.  He’s smiling, and it makes Roni giggle, especially when he reaches up to cup her cheek.  When he pulls away, it's with a strained effort, and it makes him smile even more to realize Roni doesn’t want the kiss to end either.

“It smells delicious, bunny.”  

“I hope it is.”

“It will be.”  Harry grins.  “Shall I set the table?”

Roni beams.  “I already did, my love.  All you have to do is get comfortable and come join me.”

“Get comfortable?” Harry smirks.  “Y’mean I can come back naked?”

Roni squirms as she lets out a scoff to cover her embarrassment.  “What-EVER. No! That’s not what I meant.  Go put on some comfy clothes.”

“Well, you don’t look very comfy.”

“I am!”

“Are you?  Sure you wouldn’t be comfier naked?”

“Harry.”

Harry giggles like a little boy and dodges the towel that Roni snaps at his behind.  “Alright alright. I’ll be right back.”

“You better be, little shit.”

Harry scurries out of the room while Roni rolls her eyes and turns to the chicken on the stove.  She works her hardest to prepare it, trying not to allow her thoughts to linger on the way he looked in his work clothes-- his cute little cap hanging sideways on his head, parallel with the smirk on his cheeks.  

Roni serves up their plates, lighting a few more candles around the room and setting everything on the table perfectly. She tries to contain her joy when Harry re-enters the room.  He licks his lips the moment he sees his plate on the table, and he beams at her.  “Looks delicious, Veronica.  You and the meal.”

Roni smiles as she sets her drink down beside her own plate.  “Yeah?”

Harry grins, pulling her seat out. “Yeah.”

Roni giggles, wasting no time in settling herself into the seat.  “You’re so cute, Harry.  Fuck.”

This makes Harry snort as he helps Roni push her seat into the table. “That’s all you, princess.”

Roni grows visibly embarrassed, which only causes Harry’s smirk to deepen and his dimple to pop even harder. “Like that, don’t you?  ‘Princess.’”

“It’s just cute, is all.  Never been called that before.”

“Well,” Harry says, taking his own seat, “It suits you.”

Roni squirms in her seat, and Harry jokingly fluffs out his napkin.  He juts out his bottom lip in a smug grin, tucking the napkin into his shirt collar and causing Roni to laugh.  

“So formal,” she comments.

“Seems fitting.  Would you like me to tuck yours in for you as well?”

The connotations behind his words do not go unnoticed by Roni, and he beams, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Anyway,” she says, embarrassment prickling her ears, “Bon appetit.”

Harry moans the moment he shovels the first fork-full of chicken into his mouth, despite Roni’s warnings that it’s going to be hot and he needs to blow on it.  He’s making obscene noises as he chews, and whether it’s for dramatic affect or not, Roni isn’t sure. In any case, though, it does wonders for her ego the way he’s rolling his eyes and licking his lips.

“Veronica.” Harry speaks before swallowing.  “Baby.  You’ve outdone yourself.”

Roni grins, realizing that she still hasn’t even taken a bite because she’s been too busy blowing on the chicken and eyeing Harry anxiously. “Yeah?”

Harry swallows.  “My god,” he says, not a trace of over exaggeration on his pretty face.  “I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a meal this delicious.”

“I’m so glad!” It touches Roni’s heart and also kind of makes her sad. This meal really isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and she realizes that he’s so happy because she made it.  He’s lived alone for years, and she knows he’s hardly (if at all) been loved like this.  He’s only had to take care of himself, and she wonders if he’s ever had someone in his life to care for him like this.

“I mean it,”  Harry says.  “I could cry.  Never tasted anything this good in my life.’

Now Roni giggles. “It’s just chicken, my love.”

“No, you must’ve put something special in it.  Extra love or something, I don’t know.  I don’t know what you did, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Roni’s curiosity gets the best of her.  “Harry?”

“Mm?”  He hums around another mouthful.

“Have you never had… a woman in your life?”

Harry snorts at her question, but he slows his chewing for a brief moment, considering her words.  He doesn’t seem to take offense, which is a relief.  He thinks about his answer as he chews, waiting to speak once he’s swallowed. “I have.  Sort of.”

“Yeah?”

“Had a girlfriend a few years back.  She was older.  We didn’t date for very long.  She would���ve never done anything like what you’ve done for me tonight.”

Roni grins.  “What, make you dinner?”

“Well, that, but also…”  Harry gestures vaguely towards Roni.  “This.  What you’ve done with your hair.  And the dress.  You’re so thoughtful. She never was.”

Roni reaches forward, placing her hand lightly on Harry’s arm.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright!”  Any trace of sadness on Harry’s face is immediately wiped clean and replaced with a smile.  “Worked out anyway.  She cheated on me.  Twice.  So.  Obviously she wasn’t very happy either.”  He chuckles, preparing his next bite already.

Roni only frowns.  “That’s awful, Harry.”

“Was pretty awful, yeah.  But I’m glad now.  Taught me a lot, you know?”  He smiles at her.  “Just glad I have you now.”

“Yeah,” Roni says quietly.  “Me too.”

The rest of the dinner is just as lovely as the start, and Roni does have to admit that she did a pretty damn good job with the food.  Harry talks about his day at work while continuously complimenting Roni’s cooking, and he also listens-- completely intrigued-- when she mentions the little girl at the grocery store.

“No kidding,” Harry says.  “You really think it was your grandma?”

Roni nods.  “I do. I know it was her, because I grew up hearing the story of the lady in the grocery store.”

Harry grins. “Sick!”

His words make Roni giggle. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

Harry’s cheeks go the lightest shade of crimson at her words, but he takes it in stride. “Can’t help it,” he admits. Your futuristic verbiage inspires me.”

After dinner, Harry refuses to allow Roni to touch a single dish. He washes them in the kitchen sink, jokingly shoving Roni out of the way every time she tries to help.

“You worked so hard on dinner,” he insists. “If you so much as look at these dishes one more time, I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Roni challenges, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You won’t do anything. You looooove me too much.”

Her teases are childish but they make both of them giggle. Harry doesn’t say anything, instead just dipping his hand into the soapy water and flicking some suds onto her.  Roni shrieks, and Harry grins. “I do love you,” he says, before she can get a word in. “Too much.”

Roni busies herself with picking another record to play while Harry finishes up the dishes, and she tries to keep her questions to a minimum. She’d had no issues with this earlier, why is she struggling with it now?

Although, to be fair, it had been fresh in her mind earlier. Now all of her thoughts are clouded with Harry and how absolutely delicious he looks right now.

Harry, of course, sees her struggling.  But he knows how stubborn she is, and he knows that if she wanted help she would ask for it.  So he just chuckles quietly to himself as she tries to figure it out, and he grins when he hears her let out a triumphant “A-HA!”

After a few more seconds,  the song whirs to life.    Harry recognizes it almost instantly, and he lets out a cackle.  “Veronica--”

Roni is swaying her hips, bopping around the living room while I’m Just Wild About Harry fills the silence.  Harry watches her dance with an amused expression, and she laughs, singing along to a few of the words.  “It’s a good song, huh?” she asks.  “Never heard it until today. Daisy showed me.  She actually lent it to me so I could do this.  Neat, huh?  How like, accurate to our situation it is and stuff.”

Harry shuts off the water in the sink, drying his hands before making his way slowly into the living room.  He takes Roni’s wiggling hips in his hands, and laughs when she doesn’t stop dancing.  “This is my song to you,” she states. “I’m just wild about you, lover boy.”

Harry giggles, swaying a bit with her as well. “Well,” he says,  “The feeling is mutual.”  

Roni continues to bop around the living room, with Harry only half heartedly dancing with her.  He watches her intently the entire time, and his stare makes her almost nervous.  She tries to stay as playful as possible, but the way he’s smirking at her makes her giggly and excited. Finally, she groans.  “Whaaaaaat?”

Harry throws back his head and laughs, taking her hips in his hands once again.  “Just love you,” he admits, kissing her forehead.  “Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“You’re staring at me like a weirdo,” Roni points out, and the smile on her face lets him know that she isn’t upset about it in the least.

“Can’t help it,” he says.  “Have you seen yourself?”

“You’re one to talk!” Roni hip checks him and he snorts.  “Anyway, you’re being very rude not participating in this dance with me.”

“I’m dancing!” Harry insists.

“Yeah, but not enough! You know, if there was a song that was like I’m Just Wild About Roni or something, I’d be shaking my little ass all over this house.”

Harry chokes on a laugh, and Roni immediately kisses against his open mouth. “Come onnnn,” she giggles, “You’ve gotta get into it!”

Harry watches her, an amused smirk on his face, and she turns it into a game. She wiggles her hips tauntingly, moving closer to him and then backing away when he reaches for her.  It makes him chuckle, but he holds on to his facade as long as possible.  “If you keep moving like that, I’ll cum untouched,” he teases.

“What, like this?”  Roni wiggles ungracefully, and Harry laughs. He can’t stop himself from launching forward now.  He takes her hips in his hands, squeezing and yanking her towards him-- causing her to squeal.

“Harry!” she giggles, stumbling into his arms.  “Fuck!”

He laughs heartily as he steadies her, wrapping his arms around her and successfully trapping her against his body.  She squirms in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but he holds her steadfast, kissing her temple a few times until both of their giggles settle down.

When the aftershocks of Roni’s giggles have subsided into soft hums of contentment, she lifts her head to smile at Harry.  The way he’s looking down at her causes him to get the most adorable double chin, and she noses at it softly. He squeezes her tighter, pulling her in to button their lips together.

The kiss grows more intense with each second that passes, and Harry’s thoughts begin to run wild.  With a gentle touch, he trails his fingertips slowly up Roni’s back, testing the waters by gripping the back of her neck firmly.  He feels her stiffen only slightly, her breath hitching softly in her throat before she relaxes into his grasp.   She lets out a barely-there groan when he squeezes, and he knows he’s got her.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry breathes, using his other hand to squeeze teasingly at her ass.

“Hm?”

“I couldn’t want you any more than I do tonight.”

He can feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks, but he doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s gripping her neck tighter, gently guiding her backwards a bit. They stumble awkwardly through the living room together, never once breaking the kiss.

Roni giggles, and even Harry can’t help but to smile, when their teeth knock together-- making a noise that echoes somewhat uncomfortably.  It’s then that Harry notices the song has come to an end, and he gets an idea.

He pulls away slowly, heart melting when he sees Roni lean in for another kiss before realizing he’s stopped.  She looks up at him with doe eyes, and he almost forgets what he was even going to say.

“Got an idea,” he says.  “Going to set the mood.”

“The mood is already set, baby,” Roni insists, but Harry is already moving.  He’s hurrying over to his records, thumbing through them haphazardly until he lets out a quiet-- but triumphant-- “Ah! There it is.”

Roni, growing impatient and almost uncomfortably wet, tries to catch a glimpse of the music he holds in his hands, but it’s no use.  So she lets out an indignant huff that causes Harry to smirk.

“Patience, pretty baby,” he coos. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”

Something about the tone with which he presents these words to her causes Roni to shiver, and she doesn’t even mean to moan the way she does-- light and airy and almost pornographic sounding (but in a sweet way).  The moan doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, because of course it doesn’t, and he chuckles to himself just out of her earshot.

“Can’t make love to my girl without a good song playing.”

“Can’t you, though?” Roni teases, and Harry shoots her a cheeky glance over his shoulder before busying to work switching out the records.

“Well, I mean, I could,” he says, “but what’s the fun in that? Besides…”  He drops the needle in place, turning around with a smirk as the slow, sexy song begins.  “...Gonna need something to drown out her screams from how good m’making her feel.”

Roni giggles nervously— not because what he said was funny, but because she knows he’s right, and the anticipation mixed with the thick tension charging the air is making her tummy twist.

Harry turns slowly on his heel, a mischievous grin on his face as if he’s about to pounce on her. Roni takes a cautious step backwards and Harry confirms her suspicions, bounding for her and immediately devouring her in kisses.

It starts out playful, but the kisses soon grow hungrier and hungrier— and then suddenly they’re groping at one another like two horny teenagers left unsupervised for the first time.  Roni haphazardly tugs at the buttons of Harry’s shirt while he uses his hands to guide them both awkwardly towards the sofa without opening his eyes or removing his lips from hers.

There is a gentle bump when the back of Roni’s legs hit the sofa, and Harry gently turns them both around. He plops ungracefully onto the couch, large ringed fingers on either side of Roni’s hips as he tugs her onto his lap. She complies with little persuasion needed, straddling his waist and cupping the back of his neck with her hands.   Her thumbs brush against the untamable curls at the base, and he shivers ever so softly when she purposely scratches.  All the while their lips never separate, and as Harry licks his way into her mouth, Roni leans impossibly closer to him.

His fingers squeeze the fleshier part of her hips before ducking lower to the curve of her ass, cupping it gently beneath his palms.  He pulls away only slightly when he speaks.  “Jesus, Veronica.”

“Is this okay?”  Roni bumps her nose playfully against Harry’s and he chuckles.

“‘Course it is.  Just never seen anyone so perfect.  Think you were made for me.”

“Think so, too,” Roni mumbles against the base of his throat, dragging her lips up the sensitive skin and nibbling gently at his ear.

Harry hums low in his throat, squeezing Roni’s ass through the thick fabric of her skirt.  “This fucking dress,” he mumbles, and Roni can hear feel the vibration of his voice as she kisses against his neck.

It makes Roni smile to herself at how easy it is to turn him on-- especially wearing something as simple as this.  This dress, of course, is incredibly beautiful but in her time it would be considered far too modest and less than sexy.  Harry, however, is transfixed on the sight before him, and he seems completely head over heels in love with Roni as he trails his fingertips along the frills on the skirt.

Roni allows Harry a few moments of wonder before she gets right back to work, leaning in and sucking the spot below his ear. “You’re one to talk,” she mumbles, trailing her lips up to the shell of his ear.  She takes his earlobe between her teeth and nibbles gently, and Harry involuntarily squeezes at her hips, causing her to roll them against him.

Harry tilts his head, taking Roni’s bottom lip between his own and sucking.  Just as his tongue begins to gently trace its way into her mouth, his big hands slide up her back tenderly-- causing her to shiver.  She gulps, opening her mouth further and allowing him to lick his way in, greeting his tongue with a graceful swirl of her own. He hums again, and she can feel a faint whisper of a grin tugging on his mouth.

As Roni rolls her center along his ever growing bulge, he chuckles almost darkly against her lips.  “Christ,” he mutters, “What are you doing to me?”

“Feel good?” she asks, lips ghosting his.

“Going to make me finish before I’m ready,” he admits. “You’re a devil.”

Roni hums.  “Kiss me again.”  

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, and he leans in to button their lips together once more.  He allows his hands to gather up all the ruffles along the trim of her skirt, bunching them up in one hand so he can lift it effortlessly.  Roni’s’ backside feels instantly colder, and she glances down to the spot where her core meets his.  He gulps, realizing that she’s wearing stockings and no underwear, and Roni instantly grows embarrassed.  

“Gonna make a mess on your pants if we keep going like this,” she admits breathlessly.

“S’okay,” Harry says, eyes glued to her pussy.  “It’s fuckin’ sexy.”

With his words, Roni gives another harsh roll of her hips, and Harry’s head falls back onto the couch.  He closes his eyes for a split second, trying to make a mental image of the sight of her juices slick against his trousers, and then licks his lips before speaking.

“Wanna--” he gulps,  “--wanna try something.  Can we?”

“Anything,” Roni whispers.

Harry doesn’t speak again, launching right into whatever it is he wants to try.  He takes Roni’s hips in his hands again and shifts her, ever so slightly, until she’s straddling only one of his knees.  She takes care not to accidentally knee him in the balls, which proves hard with his ever growing bulge getting bigger and bigger.  She already feels soaked, and she grows embarrassed at the slightly sticky stain already forming on his trousers.

“Harry, what--”

“I want to watch you,” he breathes, looking up at her from under his lashes.  “Want to watch you try and get yourself off on my thigh.”

Roni lets out a breath. “I don’t want to make a mess.”

“But I want you to.”  His stare is so intense, she has to avert her eyes, and he leans forward to gently bump her nose with his own.  “Please,” he says. “Just try for me.”

Roni eyes him hesitantly, before positioning herself better and beginning the rocking of her hips.  Her breath comes out shaky, and it’s Harry who lets out a low groan.  His eyes flicker continuously between her face and her pussy, and the mere sight of him makes her all the more wet.

“Feel good, princess?”

Roni shivers at her new nickname. On any other occasion, she feels she would’ve found it cringey, but now, coming from his lips, it makes her fucking melt.  Roni nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and focusing as much as she can on getting the friction she’s craving.  It does feel good, but truth be told it’s nowhere near enough, and she doesn’t think she’s actually going to be able to get herself off by this alone.

“I--” she breathes, already feeling winded,  “I need more.”

Harry raises his knee slightly, and Roni rolls her hips a bit harsher, inhaling sharply at the slight increase of friction.  

“Like that?” Harry asks quietly.

Roni nods.  “M-hm.  Just like that.”

“You’re a vision, Veronica,” Harry breathes.  “Look at you.”

She gives an extra hard rock of her hips.  It still feels good, but all she wants right now is him.  She reaches forward to take one of his hands from her hip and gently guides it down to her clit.

Harry grins.  “Needy,” he tuts.

“Please,” she whimpers.  “Feels good but… it’s not enough.”

There is something different in Harry’s eyes tonight, and it excites Roni more than she’s willing to admit. He gently rolls his fingers along her clit, and she arches her back.  She gulps.

“Why don’t we see how far we can take this,” Harry says slowly, “Until you can’t possibly take it anymore.”

Roni whines when Harry pulls his fingers away, laying her head down to bury her face in his neck.  “You tease.”

She can hear him chuckle softly, reaching to grip her hips and guide her along his thigh.  “And you thought I was bad the other night.”

“Gonna ruin your pants.”

“Don’t care about my trousers,” Harry states.  “Already said that. Want you all over them.”

Roni wiggles a bit uncomfortably, searching for that friction against her clit again.  She bites lightly at the spot on Harry’s neck that she knows makes him whimper, and she tries to refrain from leaving a mark.

“Can’t believe how wet you are,” Harry breathes.  “Can feel you through the fabric.”

“Harry--”

“Keep going,” he says.  “Please, honey.”

It almost seems that Harry is getting more pleasure from this than Roni herself is, and she bites at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.   She knows this is driving him crazy, and she realizes that, despite all the sex they’ve been having the past few days, this might just be the kinkiest he’s ever gotten with her, which somehow turns her on even more.

Roni throws her head back, giving a particularly hard roll of her hips and letting a long moan drip from her lips when she hits her clit from a good angle.   “God, baby,” she whines.

Harry licks his lips and squeezes her that much tighter.  “Tell me, princess.”

“Please…” She’s wiggling ungracefully now, trying so hard to get some friction.  She reaches once again for his hand, completely unashamed of how desperate she must be coming across.  But Harry gives the back of her hand a little slap before pulling it away.  

He shakes his head.  “Nuh-uh,” he says.  “What did I just say?”

It makes Roni shiver, the tone he’s using and the darkness in his eyes.  Obviously he’d been paying attention to what she said she liked earlier because he’s brought out the big guns now.  It fuels Roni even harder-- lights a fire under her ass that makes her want to disobey him more just so he can put her in her place.

“Please,” she whines.  “It’s not enough.”

She goes to reach for his hand a third time, and this time he’s quicker than her.  He takes her wrist in his hand-- wrapping his fingers fully around the width of it, and bends her arm at the elbow so that he’s got it pinned behind her back.  He does the same with her opposite hand before she even has time to process it, and effortlessly holds them both in one of his large fists.

Harry tuts at her, shaking his head.  “Why is my girl suddenly being so bad?” he asks.  “Hm? Not doing what she’s told.  Surely she’s not asking for a spanking… is she?”

Roni groans, her hips growing tired from the constant movement, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder.  “Harry… please baby--”

He gives her wrists a tug, securing her even tighter.  He bumps her nose with his own, teasing her.  Roni chases his lips with her own, begging for a kiss, but he keeps his face just out of reach.  He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver down Roni’s spine, but then he speaks so tenderly it melts her heart.

“Is this still okay, honey?”

“Of course it is,” Roni whispers.  “Wish I could touch you, but--”

“But you like being restrained, don’t you princess?”

He speaks so formally, which somehow adds to the eroticism of the moment.  Roni has never experienced anything like this.  She moans, uninhibited.  “I do, Harry.  I really do.”

“Of course you do,” he chuckles darkly.  “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

He is looking at her intensely but there’s a hint of curiosity behind his eyes that makes this all the better.  He’s testing the waters, and it’s working for Roni in a way that nothing has ever worked before.  “I’m your good girl,” she pants.  “Please touch me.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts.  “Now, bunny, you can take a little more teasing can’t you?”

“I can’t,” Roni whines.

“You can,” Harry says, bumping her nose with his own.  “Know you can.”

Roni lets out a cry that makes even her feel pitiful.  She’s never like this-- truly-- but Harry makes her feel something unlike anything she’s ever experienced.  “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she whimpers in frustration, her hips growing tired from their movement.  She struggles against Harry’s fists, but he’s got a firm hold on her, and he grins sadistically.

“Getting tired?”

“I’m close,” she pants,  “But it isn’t enough.  Harry-- please--”

“Hm.”  Harry narrows his eyes, blinking slowly at her as he watches her struggle.  “You have been good, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Roni cries.

“Wasn’t actually asking you, sweetheart.”  Without warning, Harry uses his free hand to smack lightly at the side of Roni’s bum, causing her to gasp.  There isn’t enough force  to actually hurt her, and the layers of her skirt sort of soften the blow, but it leaves behind a little sting that causes an involuntary moan to escape Roni’s lips.

Harry looks up at her from under his lashes, a devilish smirk on his face but a hint of innocence in his eyes.    “Was that okay?”

Roni nods, gulping harder than she intends.  “Yes,” she moans,  “it was perfect.  Do it again.”

Harry smiles, his dominant side vanishing for just a moment as he leans in to press a kiss to Roni’s lips.  “I like this kinky side of you.”  He denies her request, kissing the corner of her lips as she squirms against his lap.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Roni can’t help the moan that bubbles up from her throat when he reaches down to rub at the spot he’s just slapped.  How could someone be so sexy, yet so incredibly sweet at the same time?  Her clit is practically throbbing, and the spot on Harry’s trousers that is consistently being rubbed by her core grows hotter and wetter by the second.  She’s relieved when Harry lets go of her wrists-- using one hand to take her hip and the other to rub against her clit.

The whimper that leaves her lips is filthy and pathetic, and Harry uses the hand that rests on her hip to guide her movements while he rubs against her clit.  He watches her face intently, with his lips parted ever so slightly.  His cock is plumping up nicely in his trousers, and Roni squirms a bit more in an attempt to place some friction on it for him.  She fights to keep her eyes open as Harry rubs circles on her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head when he gives a particularly fast rub.

His own breathing picks up intensity, and he subconsciously licks his lips as he watches her. Roni starts babbling, voice on the verge of tears as she grinds against Harry’s fingers, and he silences her with another harsh slap to her bottom. She yelps, and he moans low in his throat.

“Go on, princess,” he says, voice thick and dark. “Use my thigh. Use my fingers. Cum all over me, baby, know you can.”

It’s only a few more seconds before Roni’s thighs are quivering, and she has to hold onto Harry’s shoulders to keep her balance while her orgasm washes over her.  Her head lulls dully to the side, and her vision goes white hot.  She doesn’t even try to quiet her moans, she lets them pour out long and full while she grinds her pussy against Harry, riding out a most delicious orgasm.

And not once does Harry remove his eyes from her face.

When the orgasm has finished, she collapses, spent, onto Harry’s shoulders. He removes his fingers from her clit (not ignoring the way she twitches as he moves) and notices his hand is sort of cramping. Using his free hand, he scratches tenderly at her back, giving her a few moments to catch her breath.  He trails his hand down gently to the spot on her ass that he’s smacked, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, soothing over the stinging as best he can.

They both seem to realize that the song has long since ended, but neither seems to care.  After a few more moments, Roni hardly makes any effort to move.  But Harry can tell she’s still needy for him by the way she begins suckling at his neck. He allows her to trail a few wet kisses along his skin there, before leaning back gently.  “Veronica? Hey, baby, can you sit up for me please?”

Roni lifts her head slowly, and the dazed out, blissful look in her eyes is almost too much for Harry to handle.  He smiles, kissing at her eyelids and loving the way her lashes flutter closed.  When he pulls back, he scans her face again.  “All this from one orgasm?”

Roni nods sleepily.  “Want more,” she says. “Please.”

“Ohhh,” Harry says with a grin.  “My needy girl.  Look so pretty right now, you know that?”

“Felt good,” Roni mumbles, already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.  She stops when she looks down at his trousers, frowning when she sees just how soaked she’s gotten them.  

“What?” As soon as Harry’s asked, his eyes are looking at the same thing hers are, only he’s grinning and she’s not.  

“Messy,” Roni observes quietly.

“Mm.”  Harry hums low in his throat.  “But I asked you to, didn’t I?  Told you I wanted it.”

“Yeah but--”

“And it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Roni says, a shiver running down her spine as if the mere thought of it is causing aftershocks.  “I don’t understand.”

Harry reaches up, trailing his fingertips delicately along her shoulders, tickling at her back lightly, and scratching tenderly at the back of her neck.  “What?  What don’t you understand?”

“How every time is just… so fucking good.  I don’t know how you do that.  It’s never been so intense, or.. Or…”  She runs out of words, lost in thought and melting at the way he’s touching her skin.

Harry smiles patiently.  “Or what, baby?  Say it.”

“Just…” Roni shakes her head, still at a loss for words, and she giggles at herself.  “I don’t know, Harry.  You’re just so good.  I love it.  I love you.  That was incredible.  I mean, seriously, that was so intense yet so simple.  It literally was--”

“Foreplay,” Harry says, cutting her off.  His fingers wrap gently around her throat, giving it a slight squeeze that makes her jaw drop.  “That was just foreplay, baby.”

In an instant he’s moving, never once removing his hand from her throat. He’s squirming to get his pants undone with one hand, but given the somewhat awkward position he’s in, he can’t.  Roni wastes no time, reaching down to do the job herself, and Harry beams.  “That’s right,” Harry says, his voice low in the back of his throat.  “Get me undone, will you?.”

Roni fumbles with the zipper and the button, but she seems in a daze with the way Harry’s hand feels around her neck.   He’s almost worried that he’s doing too much, maybe squeezing a bit too hard or whatever, when he hears it.

“Harder,” she whispers.  “Harry… Can you choke me harder?  Please?”

Harry can’t even attempt to hide his surprise.  “H-harder?” he stutters.

“Please,” she whines.  They seem to remember at the same time that her hands are on the buttons of his pants, and she hurries to finish the job she started.

As soon as his pants are unfastened he removes his hand from her neck and scrambles, somewhat awkwardly, to get them off. Roni has to shuffle off of him briefly as he kicks the pants off, and before she can even do anything, Harry is yanking her by her hips back on top of him. She shrieks as she falls onto him, minding his now bare cock tickling between her legs, and she reaches behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Now me,” she breathes. “Let’s get this off so I can—“

Harry reaches up, taking her hand in his. “No,” he says quietly. “Leave it. Wanna fuck you in it.”

Roni shivers, licking at her lips before gulping and smiling faintly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods, lowering her hands.  “May I?”

The fact that he’s even asking melts Roni’s heart, and all she can manage is a soft nod.  Then Harry’s off, gripping her hips and shuffling both of them so that she’s hovering over him.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, brushing their noses together before Roni shifts slightly, sinking down onto him.

He instantly lets out a moan as she sinks lower, and her breath hitches as she tries to adjust to the size of him.  She grips his shoulders, and Harry doesn’t dare move-- giving her a moment to get used to the feeling.  She licks her lips, and Harry bumps her nose with his own, coaxing her as gently as he can.

“Doin’ so good,” he says softly.  “Feel good?”

“Mhm.”  Roni sighs, “Feels so good.”

“Can you move, bunny?  Need a minute?”

“It’s good,” Roni breathes, kissing at his jaw. “I’m good. Fuck.”

She starts rocking her hips gently, which takes Harry by surprise.   He inhales sharply through his teeth.  “Fuck, baby,” he whines, practically choking on his own pleasure.  “Keep going.”

Roni rolls her hips again, shuddering when she manages to sink just a fraction of a bit deeper on him.  She glances down at where their bodies are connected-- although it’s mostly covered by the thick fabric of her skirt.

Harry seems to read her mind, because he removes a hand from her hip and presses it gently to her lower abdomen.  “Feel me here?” he asks.  “In your tummy?”

Roni nods, obviously overly-sensitive, as tears brim her eyes.  “Feels so fucking good,” she whimpers.

Harry is almost shocked at how filthy they’re being.  Sure they’ve talked dirty before, many times, but tonight feels different.  Especially now that Harry knows what Roni is really into.

Which reminds him…

Harry reaches up under Roni’s thick skirt, gripping at the skin of her ass and digging his nails in, only slightly-- before giving her bare skin a nice smack.

Roni gasps, clearly taken aback, and Harry grins against her mouth.  “Y’like that?”

He isn’t only asking because it’s part of talking dirty-- he’s also asking because he’s genuinely curious that he’s doing alright.  Although, if the moans dripping from Roni’s pretty lips are any sort of indication as to how she’s feeling right now, Harry assumes he’s doing a pretty decent job.

Roni nods, head lulling back as she rides him. “Fuck—fuck!”

Harry rubs over the spot he’s just smacked before striking another blow. Roni hisses through her teeth, whimpering a soft, “oh god, Harry” through choking moans.

Harry gulps, clearly losing his composure but trying with all his might to keep up the dominance act.  “Love the way you squeeze me when I do that,” he groans.  “Could get used to that.”

Roni lets out a pitiful grunt, dropping her head to rest her forehead against Harry’s shoulder.  “Please,” she cries.  “Feels so good.”

Harry grips onto her hips so tightly it makes her yelp, and he’s certain there’s going to be bruises left behind tomorrow.  He guides her hips gently as she rides him, and he trembles with each roll of her hips.

Roni tilts her head to sponge wet, lazy kisses along his neck and the underside of his ear, and the sound of her labored breathing turns Harry on more than he’s ever thought possible. She takes his earlobe lightly between her teeth, and he can’t help the little moan that escapes between his grunts as he relishes in the feeling of both pleasure and pain.

It’s what Roni says next that practically tips him over the edge.

“Harry?”

“Mm?” Harry closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her walls clenched tightly around him.

“Choke me.”

It takes Harry a moment to blink back the fog in his eyes and actually comprehend what she’s asking, but once he’s processed it it’s a request he is all too happy to comply with. He trails his hand up her arm before clasping his fingers on either side of her neck. The way her breath hitches in her throat at his actions is enough to make him want to scream.

“Of course, baby.”.

As smoothly as he can manage, he gently guides her off of him by her hips, lazily kissing against her mouth as he lays her down on her back. His prick immediately misses her warmth as they awkwardly get situated on the couch.  

Harry reaches down to take her legs in his hands, draping them over his own shoulders and leaving her entirely exposed up to him. He licks his lips when he sees exactly how wet she is, and she squirms a bit— realizing what a vulnerable position she’s in. Harry smiles reassuringly down at her, muttering a quick “fuck, you’re beautiful,” and delighting when she visibly relaxes.

Roni wiggles a bit more, using her elbows to position herself correctly against the throw pillow on his couch, and Harry holds his throbbing cock in his hand, ready to reinsert it as soon as possible.  As soon as he thinks she’s ready, he positions himself as best as he can, but Roni holds up a hand to stop him.

“Wait, careful!”

Harry raises a confused eyebrow at her, and she gestures down to the skirt of her dress that’s now pooling, unladylike, around her hips.  “It was your idea to keep this on,” she points out. “But it’s not my dress. So don’t get it dirty.”

Harry chuckles. “I’ll try,” he says, feeling a bit of the intensity between them melt (in the softest way). “No promises though.”  He moves to insert himself between her thighs again, but she stops him again.

“You break it, you buy it.”

Harry grins, amused, down at her. “What?”

Roni, realizing Harry has probably never heard that phrase before in his life, giggles and shakes her head. “Nevermind. Just fuck me. But like, you know, carefully.”

Harry’s grin turns into a deep smirk that makes Roni’s thighs twitch. “Like I said,” he says, teasing at her entrance with his tip, “no promises.”

He enters her quickly, causing them both to gasp at how sensitive they’re feeling— especially with this new position leaving her far more open to him than before.  The sound of her gasp, however, reminds Harry that he’s got a job to do. So he reaches down, wrapping his large hand gently around Roni’s throat, and squeezing the sides.

It’s uncharted territory for him, of course, but the look in Roni’s eyes is enough to make him realize that maybe he has a thing for choking as well.  Her hair is disheveled and her mascara is a bit smudged around her eyes, although that seems to be the least of her worries.  She doesn’t look scared; if anything her face looks almost challenging. She blinks up at him and mutters a single word.

“Harder.”

A curl falls into Harry’s face and he stares dumbly back down at her, processing her request. “Harder, baby?”

Roni reaches up, grasping at his wrist and squeezing. “Harder.”

Harry gulps, tightening his grip around her throat. He is careful not to fully block her airway of course, focusing the pressure instead on the sides of her neck. She shivers letting out a garbled moan.

“Fuck,” she rasps. “That’s it. Fuck me, please.”

And who is Harry to deny her?

He keeps his grip on her neck tight, leaning forward into her so his torso is almost against hers, and she squirms from her spot beneath him. Harry can feel her heels kicking into his shoulder blades but the dull ache they leave behind feels good and only fuels him to move faster.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, “fucking hell.”

He allows his weary head to drop, burying his face in her neck and suckling at the spot beneath her ear. His grip loosens, but he has to grab onto the throw pillow beneath her head with his other hand for support.

“Gonna cum,” he groans. “Veronica, I’m--”

“Cum for me,” Roni chokes out in a whining little cry.  “C’mon baby.”

Harry lets out a grunt far louder than intended, and he knows he’s only got a few seconds left. He slows his thrusts, despite everything in him screaming at him to speed it up. “Where do you want me?” He pants out.

Roni opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out flatly and blinking innocently up at him. The sight beneath him is so fucking filthy that the act of pulling out of her is almost enough to finish him off.

She twitches at the feeling of his absence before he scrambles to get himself positioned just right— lowering her legs and straddling her awkwardly while she sits up, and positioning his hand at the base of his cock.

It only takes a few pumps before he’s coming, thick hot ropes right into her tongue. He tries to aim as best as he can, but a few drops inevitably land on her cheeks and in her hair.  She waits patiently for him to finish, moaning filthily at the taste.  Harry’s nearly blinded by his own pleasure when he feels Roni wiggle beneath him, and he remembers she has yet to have an orgasm of her own.

Harry removes his hand from her throat as his orgasm comes to a stop, pausing briefly to catch his breath before reaching down to rub at her clit. She jolts at the contact, then immediately lets her head drop back.

“You going to cum for me now, honey? Hm?”

Roni wiggles her hips against the vibrations of his fingers,  paying no mind to  the way she knocks the throw pillows off of the couch.  “Feels good,” she gasps, “feels so good.”

Harry thinks maybe he should choke her again, and he moves to do so. However, no sooner is his hand raised than Roni is coming, hard and quick and loud. Her toes curl and her back arches, and she lets out a wet moan that has Harry’s own tummy clenching.  Her thighs quiver deliciously, and Harry notes the beautiful little goosebumps that prickle at her skin.

Desperately, Roni reaches for his free hand, clumsily interlacing her fingers with his. Harry takes her hand willingly, giving it a strong squeeze to hold her steady. Her orgasm is powerful, washing over her like a violent storm, and Harry gives her hand another squeeze in order to ground her.

Harry knows she’s finished when she collapses against the cushions, and he allows his fingertips to linger against her clit a few moments longer-- if only for purely selfish reasons.  He wants to make her moan like that again.  He wants her to feel good.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest starts aching, and he allows himself a few gulping breaths-- hardly daring to move until Roni has come back down to earth.  He watches her intently, giving her as much time as she needs to recover (and delighting in the way her thighs quiver with aftershocks).  After a few moments of heavy breathing, Roni opens her eyes and gives Harry the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” she rasps out.

Harry chuckles, giving her hand another steady squeeze.   “Hi-ya, Princess.”

Roni swallows, cheeks growing hot, and Harry can tell that she’s a little embarrassed suddenly.  He smiles, pulling the skirt of the dress down to cover her exposed bits and perhaps make her feel slightly less vulnerable.  

“I do like that, you know,” she says softly.  “‘Princess,’ I mean.”

Harry nods.  “Yeah?  Well I’ll have to keep that in mind then, won’t I?”

His words are a gentle blow to the stomach as Roni remembers once again that her time left here with him is short.  Harry seems to remember this at the same time, because he lets out a soft, nasally sigh and allows his eyes to close for just a moment.

“Anyway,” he says, his cock flopping triumphantly against his thigh and making Roni giggle. “We should get cleaned up.  Think the tub is callin’ our names, don’t you?”

Roni smiles, sitting up a bit.  “A bath sounds heavenly,” she sighs.  “Thank you.”

Harry nods, moving like he’s going to get off of her but stopping himself.  He wants to savor this moment-- really take it all in.  Remember the way she looks beneath him, fucked out and messy but as pretty as ever.  Hair perfectly styled to fit the times but lovingly tousled by the intense lovemaking they’ve just shared. Roni squirms a bit under his gaze, then laughs softly.

“What?”

“Can I say something without you getting annoyed?”

Roni’s smile drops, and she narrows her eyes.  “Uh… probably not,” she teases.

Harry laughs.  “Just… gonna miss you.  That’s all.”

Roni frowns, sitting up on her elbows.  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight.”

“We weren’t,” Harry says.  “We aren’t.  I just… you know, I had to say it.”

“Did you have to, though?”  There's a hint of playfulness in Roni’s toni, and it makes Harry laugh again.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he says.  “That’s all.”

“Well for the record,” Roni sighs,  “I’m really going to miss you too.  But we’re not talking about that.”

“No, we’re not.”

There’s a moment of charged silence, in which the two lovers smile playfully at one another-- their eyes doing all of their communicating for them. Roni tucks her lip between her teeth mischievously, as if there’s something more she wants to say, and Harry simply cannot take it anymore.  He’s so overwhelmed by how much he loves her, and so giddy at how easy it is to be comfortable and silly around her.  (And the fact that he’s going to miss her so much only pushes him to want to do everything he can for her.)

In one swift movement, he’s up, picking her up by the hips and clumsily yanking her up off the sofa. She squeals, stumbling as she’s swept off her feet and into his arms. “Harry!”

It’s almost silly how awkwardly he stands, his prick hanging limp and proud while he holds her. She squirms in his arms when he begins walking, trying her best to get comfortable— which proves to be very hard with the heavy skirt weighing her down.

“What are you doing?!” She giggles.

“Carrying the princess to her royal bath, of course.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. You’re so embarrassing.”

In retaliation, Harry moves like he’s going to drop her, causing her to screech and hold on to him tighter. “Harry!”

“Careful,” Harry giggles, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot. “Or I’ll drop ya!”

Contrary to his words, Harry sets Roni gently down on the counter, pressing a soft kiss to her nose before moving to turn on the faucet.

“Now then,” he asks. “We haven’t got many options as far as soap goes. What would you like?”

“What are my options?” Roni swings her legs daintily.

“Lavender,” Harry says, matter-of-factly.

Roni waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, she snorts. “Hmm… not sure I like that. Got any vanilla?”

Harry grins right back at her, testing the water from the faucet with his fingertips. “Lavender it is.”

They spend the rest of their night like this, laughing together while sharing lazy, wet kisses and washing one another. Roni comments on a particularly nice bruise she’s left on Harry’s shoulder and Harry admires how red Roni’s behind is.

“Got you pretty good then, didn’t I?”

After the bath they take turns rubbing lotion into one another’s skin— which of course leads to another session of lovemaking, much gentler and softer than before.  It doesn’t take Harry long to fall asleep on Roni’s chest, breathing in sync with her and relishing in the way that she scratches gently at his scalp.

Roni takes a long whiff in through her nose for what feels like the fiftieth time this evening— taking in the delicious scent of the beautiful sleeping boy on her chest and trying to ignore the thought that keeps lingering in her mind.

She loves him.  And she is really, really going to miss him.

[hopeymchope]

I finished World’s End Club

The hardest thing about completing a Kodaka or Uchikoshi game is always that bereft feeling; the knowledge in my heart that there’s nothing out there that will fulfill me as much as these guys’ stories do, and now I’m fresh out of their stuff once more. Y’know? It’s like “Well shit, now I have to settle for something lesser.”

Anyway. I finished World’s End Club. The whole thing took about 16 hours (according to the in-game clock on my save file), and I’m currently redoing a couple of stages for stickers that I missed. I doubt that’ll last me more than another hour, though, so I should be 100% finished at 17 hours. Granted, that’s with me bypassing the first hour because I’d already completed it in the demo... so that makes it around 18 hours long in total. Much shorter than the average Uchikoshi or Kodaka work, clearly!

And man, they sure do pack a lot of twists and turns into those 18-or-so hours. Admittedly, there is time to slow down and talk to the characters to learn more about their backstories or what they’re thinking (typically during “Camp” scenes). But the other two types of scenes — “Story” and “Act” scenes — are chock-full of new reveals or weird plot developments up until like, hour 15. It’s all of the usual twistiness of an Uchikoshi story compacted into a shorter timeframe. 

In addition to this being shorter than Uchikoshi’s or Kodaka’s most notable prior games, it’s also much lighter. Despite somewhat dark themes cropping up at a few points, this is a far kinder and more uplifting game than Zero Escape or Danganronpa ever were. I mean, hey, it’s about a group of 12-year-olds, so it almost necessitates that lighter tone. 

I’ve mentioned this before, but I love the core cast of kids. Sure, there are a few of them who remained thin enough that I never got very attached to them, but I mean, it’s a pretty big cast. Most of the storytelling time is spent on the central plot, so I understand the shorthand of using some stereotypes in there. Some of them do get mined for depth. If there’s one problem with them, it’s that they’re too young for me to feel comfortable shipping any of them. :P They’re BABIES! 

The bottom line here is that I loved the latest Uchikoshi-penned ride. I will remain in the tank for his works for a long time to come. But now, In order to actually list and go off on some of my (relatively few) gripes with the game, I have to get into Spoiler Mode. 

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!

SPOILER MODE  ACTIVATED

Look; I didn’t love all of the twists thrown at us. I can come up with workarounds for some of the ones that bugged me, but let me go off on which twists most irritated me and why, okay?

 First off, the reveal that all of the strange monsters and creatures were just “illusions” doesn’t make any sense. If they were just illusions, there’d be no physicality to them. So there’d be no way that a giant pillbug could abduct Pai, or that some Yetis could run off with Pochi or Yuki. So they’re very obviously NOT just illusions. Hell, while we’re at it, maybe we should inquire as to how we got “Game Over”’d by a bunch of things that weren’t there. Some of the available deaths are even specific to the exact form of the monsters we see, like if Reycho gets snapped up and chewed up by one of the large flytraps in Kagoshima. You’re telling me an illusion did that?! Maybe they’re some of MAIK’s robots that are projecting illusions around themselves or something? That seems like the best way to accept this. It keeps the basic spirit of what MAIK said to be true while also justifying how it could operate. And yet..... the game even goes so far as to claim that Pielope’s transformations are just illusions. For some, that makes sense, but we clearly physically interact with at least one of those transformations — the kids actually grab onto the Train Pielope and hold onto numerous individual parts of his transformation while riding the train. So again: That CAN’T be an illusion if you can grab onto all the parts of it. So... what gives? If Pielope never physically transforms, then how’d they grab all the pieces of her transformation like that?

The twist with Reycho doesn’t quite work logically, either. For starters, if you go back and read his “inner monologue” dialogue from the game, there are numerous instances where the dialogue doesn’t seem to fit with it being the thoughts of the “Otherworlder” OR Pochi, the two parties supposedly controlling him. The thoughts in question only work if Recyho was somehow thinking for himself already, so I guess we have to fanwank it and just assume that his “self-awareness” was starting to come through early? (I didn’t care for the reveal that Pochi was controlling Reycho either, because it has this whole tone of “You were controlling someone who never mattered because they were just being controlled by somebody else who wasn’t even the player character, ha-ha!” But the later twist that the “Otherworlder” was actually controlling Reycho made it better for me, so I’ll let it slide.)

The other thing that didn’t work for me is the reveal that Pochi is a robot. Even events that come AFTER this reveal are made more problematic as a result of it. First off, it makes it confusing as to how/why certain “X-Type” robots exist. I guess MAIK created the X-Type robots? Because he somehow reached the ability to communicate with another world? If so, where are the other X-Types? We know there have to be some others if Niyan and his gang are already familiar with the whole concept. What was their purpose? Did MAIK also program his own robots to have emotions?  Because Pochi is clearly very emotional. Even though MAIK hates emotions... ? Perhaps this game isn’t meant to answer everything, and they’re setting up for some kind of sequel. I find that pretty unlikely, but I can’t say it’s impossible. However, the big reason I don’t like the Pochi Robot reveal isn’t really the logic problems with it. It’s that they knew we’d like Pochi because he’s an introverted gamer, but then the reveal of his true nature takes all that away. He was never a gamer at all. He wasn’t even all that shy. He was just keeping to himself to hide his true nature... and his “gaming” was just him controlling Reycho. So the things that your players were most likely to dig about him are utterly erased. So in the end, who is Pochi? He’s a compassionate, heroic, self-sacrificing protagonist. Which makes him a lot more generic. 

A closing thought: If, by some miracle, this game ever gets a follow-up sequel or spinoff, I see a lot of potential in how they could mix and match the various characters’ abilities. I understand that the platforming isn’t really the point of the game, and that’s why it feels undercooked... but that also makes it the area that could most easily be improved upon. I was initially excited for the chance to be able to swap between characters so that I could have Mowchan turn into iron, then Reycho would throw him onto a ledge. Or maybe Pai could block an attacking enemy while Tattsun shoots it! Alas, this is a simpler game than that. And while I am ok with that, if they ever take another shot at it, it doesn’t have to be this straightforward and simple. They can have more fun with the platforming side. Let’s go ahead and mix and match our powers!