#but we kind of. hit a few roadblocks on the way

[wolfythewitch]

Sketch

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 10 ☆Moment 4 Life☆

Sorry this took so long I just kept hitting a roadblock while writing it but I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy as always feedback is appreciated ;) Word count: 2.17k Warnings: Lots of sports talk, Mentions of alcohol consumption, and tension😏

24 Hours before The World Series 

The stage was set: Atlanta Braves vs. Houston Astros. And believe me, I was ready.

I let out a deep breath as I racked the bar on the squat rack. Working out always seemed to calm my nerves before a big game, especially this one.

I sat down on the beach and took a sip from my water bottle. Part of my brain hadn’t fully processed the fact that tomorrow was the biggest game of my career, while the other part was trying to focus and get into the zone.

“Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!” my mom called out, quoting The Nutty Professor while clapping her hands.

Looking over my shoulder, I shook my head and laughed. “Morning, Ma.”

“Good morning, sweetheart! Breakfast is ready,” she said, leaning against the doorway.

“You didn't have to; I was going to grab something before—” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“You know how I am,” she waved her hand. “Come on upstairs and eat before the pancakes get cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a fantastic breakfast made by Mom—something I'm sure my trainer will have a few words about later—I walked onto the field for practice. The familiar scents of fresh paint and damp dirt filled the air.

Practice felt different today and in a good way. Everyone was pushing themselves just a little harder, and smiles were on everyone's faces; rightfully so, considering tomorrow is the World Series—who wouldn't be excited?

Walking into the media room for what could possibly be my final time, I took a seat and quickly greeted everyone in the room.

“Sierra, how are the nerves less than 24 hours away from the World Series?” the first reporter asked.

I took a breath before answering. “Pretty good! I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous, because that would be a lie. But the right kind of nerves are good.”

“The last time you all played against the Astros, you lost a three-game series. Are you confident that you can beat them?” another reporter inquired.

Confident? Man, please.

“We don’t have any other choice but to beat them. I am confident that we’ve learned from our mistakes, and we will win,” I replied with conviction. 

Once again, Mom commandeered my kitchen for dinner, but honestly, I can't complain. There's something comforting about her culinary prowess that makes the house feel warm and inviting.

Later that evening, as I settled down to unwind, I scrolled through Instagram when a notification caught my eye. I had been tagged in a video posted by the Bengals, and my curiosity piqued. Tapping on the notification, Joe's familiar face filled my screen, a snippet from his press conference earlier that day.

“The World Series starts tomorrow. Do you plan on watching?” a reporter asked, his voice steady with anticipation.

“Yeah, I do. Got to watch my girl get the win,” Joe replied, a wide grin lighting up his face.

Wait a minute—did he just say “my girl”? 

It struck me like a bolt of lightning. We hadn't even been on a date yet, let alone discussed any labels or commitments, yet here he was, claiming me in front of the world.

Possessive? Yes. But I have to admit, I liked it.

World Series Game 1

Today is the day: Game 1 of the World Series.

Waking up felt different today. Getting dressed felt different. Even having my hair and makeup done felt different. Everything feels different, but not in a bad way—more like, this is my moment.

As I walk into the ballpark, I find myself not really paying attention to the cameras. My focus is on the game ahead of me, and I’m also trying not to trip in these heels. I see why I don’t wear them often—they hurt!

But that pain quickly faded away when the first pitch of the game was thrown.

Two teams will play between 4 to 7 games, all for one prize: the Commissioner’s Trophy. This is the World Series.

Game 1 is in the books. Unfortunately, we didn't secure a win, but that's okay; you win some, you lose some. The score was 4-8.

In Game 2, we bounced back with a blowout victory of 7-0.

Game 3 saw us lose home-field advantage, but we still managed to win in Houston, finishing with a score of 4-1.

In Game 4, Houston gained some momentum and narrowly won by one run, with a final score of 6-5.

Game 5 went into extra innings, but we pulled through and got the job done, ending with a score of 10-9.

In Game 6, the Astros clinched a victory with a grand slam, keeping their World Series hopes alive. The final score was 8-7.

Now, we find ourselves back in Atlanta for the last game of the series. As of right now, my nerves are on edge because, in this game, every hit counts, every out matters, and most importantly, every score matters.

It all comes down to this pivotal moment. The stadium is electric as I stand at the bottom of the 9th inning, two outs secured, with a runner perched on second base. With the score hanging in the balance at 8-7 against us, the weight of the situation bears down heavily on my shoulders.

I know exactly what I need to do: connect solidly with the ball and drive it deep into the outfield, giving the runner a chance to dash home. Easy, right? Just a casual swing in front of 31,000 fervent fans who are all hoping for a miracle.

Stepping into the batter's box, I adjust my helmet and take a deep breath, trying to drown out the cacophony of cheering and chanting that envelops Truist Park. The familiar strains of "It's A Man's World" echo in my ears, heightening my focus as I mentally prepare for what lies ahead.

I set my stance, feeling the cool air against my skin, and lock eyes with the pitcher on the mound. He’s a seasoned player, his demeanor calm, yet I can sense the tension rippling through him as he glances briefly at the runner on second before facing me again. With a swift motion, he winds up and launches his pitch toward me.

I tighten my grip on the bat and, as the ball approaches, I make the decision to check my swing. I hold back just in time, watching the ball sail past me — it’s a ball, one count, no strikes. I exhale slowly, mentally recalibrating for the next pitch.

Gathering my concentration again, I position myself for what could be my final chance. The pitcher goes through his routine again, taking a moment to check the runner’s position before propelling the ball towards me once more.

This time, I hold my breath as I watch the projectile race toward the plate. I swing my bat with everything I’ve got, the wood making solid contact with the ball. The sound is explosive, resonating like a whip crack through the air, sending a thrill through my veins.

As I adjust my stance, I see the ball soaring into the sky, arcing beautifully as it heads toward the outfield. It continues its ascent, disappearing over the stadium's walls and splashing into the waterfall display that adds to the ambiance of this incredible venue.

In that exhilarating moment, it hits me: we just won the World Series.

Holy shit… WE JUST WON THE WORLD SERIES!

In an adrenaline-fueled rush, I slam my bat to the ground, the echo of victory reverberating in my ears as I begin my journey around the bases. The stadium erupts in a deafening roar — fireworks burst overhead, illuminating the night sky, while the crowd erupts with cheers and shouts, a collective celebration of triumph.

Tossing my helmet aside, I approach home plate, my heart racing as my teammates swarm me the instant I touch it. They envelop me in a chaotic celebration, screaming and jumping in unison, pure joy radiating from every face.

This is the pinnacle of my dreams, a moment I’ve envisioned since I was just a nine-year-old girl playing wiffle ball in my backyard with my uncle. From being the only girl on the high school baseball team to earning a full-ride scholarship at LSU, and culminating in winning the state championship, this moment eclipses them all: winning the World Series.

God. 

is. 

good. 

Every ounce of hard work, every sacrifice, every moment of doubt pales in comparison to the realization of this dream. I stand amidst the celebration, grateful, overwhelmed, and utterly elated. This is why I play.

After a whirlwind of interviews followed by a bear bath celebration, a refreshing shower, and an energetic afterparty, I finally stepped back into the comforting embrace of my home. 

“Thanks again, Kyle,” I called out, watching as he made his way back toward the elevator, his figure illuminated by the soft hallway lights. 

“No problem, sleep well,” he replied, flashing a warm smile before disappearing behind the elevator doors. The best driver in the world, hands down.

With a sigh of relief, I unlocked my front door and crossed the threshold, the familiar scent of home washing over me. I locked the door behind me and, with a gentle thud, dropped my duffle bag right at the entrance, mentally promising myself I’d unpack it tomorrow—or, more likely, later today. All I craved was the soft cocoon of my bed, a well-deserved sanctuary after such a long day.

As I rounded the corner toward my room, I noticed a sliver of light cutting through the darkness—the kitchen light glowed unexpectedly. I furrowed my brow, certain I hadn’t left it on. Perhaps my mom had flicked it on before heading out to the airport. 

Curiosity piqued, I padded softly toward the kitchen, only to be met with an utterly unexpected sight: a strikingly handsome quarterback, standing 6’3” with tousled hair and piercing blue eyes, casually leaning against my counter like he owned the place.

“Surprise,” he said, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

A smile broke across my face as I shook my head in disbelief. “Surprise indeed,” I replied, the warmth of his presence igniting a flutter of happiness in my chest.

“C'mere,” Joe beckoned, his arms outstretched, inviting me into a hug that felt both familiar and incredibly grounding. 

I stepped into his embrace, surrendering to the moment as he nestled a tender kiss on the top of my head. “Proud of you,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.

Emotions swelled within me, and I simply nodded, overwhelmed by his kindness. 

Joe pulled back slightly, his gaze searching mine, an edge of concern etching his features. “You okay?”

Looking up at him, I nodded, a smile slipping out as I exhaled. “Yeah,” I breathed, “Just really, really happy—and maybe a little drunk,” I chuckled, the effects of the evening buzzing in my system. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago,” Joe replied, his tone laced with both excitement and regret. “Today starts my bye week, and I figured, why not surprise you? Just wish I could have been here to see you win,” he added a bittersweet note in his voice.

“It’s okay, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” I reassured him, my eyes drifting from the depth of his gaze to the inviting curve of his lips, only to return to his eyes—intensely captivating.

Ugh, why did he have to look so kissable? Damn you, vodka!

A comfortable silence enveloped us, a fragile moment stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and electric tension. 

Clearing his throat, Joe broke the stillness, “Come on, you look like you might pass out,” he teased gently, nodding toward my bedroom. It was true; the exhaustion was pulling at me, whispering sweet nothings of sleep. So, without resisting, I unwound myself from his embrace and began the trek to my room, Joe following closely behind.

I couldn’t tell if it was the lingering alcohol buzzing through my veins or the undeniable desires I felt, but the need to be close to him was intoxicating. In his arms, everything felt perfectly right.

Groaning as I woke up to the bright Atlanta sun shining in my eyes, I pulled the blanket over my head to block out some of the light. I really need to invest in blackout curtains.

Eventually, I decided it was time to get up and start my day.

But as I opened the door, I heard a noise coming from the living room. Is that the TV?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked into the living room.

“Morning, sweetheart,” 

@enretrogue @hoodharlow

[sheletlune]

Lewis Nixon's Eulogy by Dick Winters

From the USAHEC archive (emphasis are mine):

I first met Lewis Nixon at Officer Candidate School, Fort Benning, Georgia, in April, 1942.

We both volunteered for the parachute troops in August, 1942 and we were both assigned to Co. E, 2nd Bn., 506th Parachute Infantry at Camp Toombs, Toccoa, Georgia.

We were together for the rest of World War II.

I have many memories of Lewis in combat.

1) On D-day I was involved in a fight to take over a battery of 105mm. cannon, firing on Utah Beach. During the battle Lewis went down Causeway #2 to the beachhead and brought back the first two tanks to come ashore at Utah Beach. He brought them to me to help finish off the battle.

From that point on, it seemed that every time I was committed to a fight, I found Nixon walking beside me.

2) In Holland, on September 17th, 1944, Operation Market Garden, right after the jump, Lewis was by my side as we approached the bridge at Son. The Germans blew the bridge and rocks and pieces of timber fell all around us.

3) On September 22, 191m, Company E was sent out as an advance party to secure Uden, a small town along Hell’s Highway.

I had only 80 men. We were cut off and surrounded. Nixon was with me.

Together, we went up a church tower for better observation of the battle. As we huddled behind the parapet, under the big church bell, a German evidently spotted us and sent a bullet to ring the bell over our heads. We literally jumped down the stairs in about two strides.

4) On September 25, 1944, the Germans cut Hell’s Highway again, this time south of Veghel. Nixon was again beside me as we crossed a big field to relieve the roadblock. In the middle of the field we came under machine gun fire from German Royal Tiger tanks and troops from the 6th German Parachute Regt.

As we hit the dirt, Nixon had a bullet hit the front of his helmet at such an angle that it just grazed his forehead, never breaking the skin, leaving only a brown mark on his forehead, before exiting through the side of his helmet.

l happened to look his way as he took off his helmet, looked at it and smiled. He refused to keep that helmet as a souvenir.

5) On October 5, 1944, in Holland, after a particularly hard fight, again, it was Nixon checking up on me to see how I was doing. It was Nixon who gave me his canteen when I asked for a drink of water - yes, the canteen was full of water - not Vat 69!

6) At Bastogne he had his name drawn out of the hat in a lottery that would have given him a 30 day leave in the States.

He refused the offer, saying he wanted to stay with the outfit on the line. How do you explain that kind of dedication? That kind of dedication is never talked about by the men, but it is never forgotten. At that time we were very short on men and officers, especially good , proven officers.

7) Nixon was moved from the 2nd Bn staff 'to the 506th Regimental staff as S-3, Plans and Training Officer. He was a key man in keeping the regiment together during the biggest battle of World War II at Bastogne.

8) On March 24, 1945, in Operation Varsity, the 17th Airborne jumped across the Rhine as the big push started to cross the Rhine River and go for Berlin. Lewis made that jump as an advisor. The plane he was in was shot down. As jumpmaster, he and three other men made it out before the plane crashed.

9) We were together every step of the way from D—Day to Berchtesgaden, May 8th, V-E Day.

Lewis Nixon was the best combat officer that I had the opportunity to work with under fire. He never at any time showed fear, and during the toughest times he could always think under fire. Very few men can think while under fire; very few men can remain poised under an artillery concentration.

Lewis always trusted me. While we were in training, before combat, Lewis hid his entire inventory of Vat 69 in my footlocker, under the tray holding my socks, beneath my underwear and sweaters. What greater trust, what greater honor could I ask for than to be trusted with his precious inventory of Vat 69?

While sharing all those days and experiences in training and in combat, we also shared our memories of our families, our school days, of our growing up, of our friends at home.

I felt as though I knew his mother, his father, his sister. I knew all about his grandparents on both sides of the family. He had a excellent heritage from both sides. He had been sent to excellent schools, and an Ivy League College. He had great wealth, was good-looking, had an excellent vocabulary, was very well-spoken; he was very well—read, smart, and had a good sense of humor. He had all the ingredients one could ask for to make a happy life - except one factor - LOVE!

Until Lewis met and married Grace he had never found or experienced true love.

It was only after his marriage to Grace that he found true happiness, peace within himself.

Together they travelled to just about every corner of the world; they shared many wonderful experiences together.

Grace demonstrated her love over these past years through her care for Lewis. Without the love and care-of Grace, Lewis would have died many, many years ago.

Whenever Grace would talk to me on the telephone, or write me a letter or a Christmas card, the message was always the same.

"Lewis is so brave; he never complains, he always has a smile for me whenever I come into his room — and that just makes it all worthwhile." I am sure those words are familiar to all of you here today.

I am also sure that all of you will agree with me when I say that with that smile Lewis gave Grace each day, it was his way of saying:

Thank you, Grace, for your care.

Thank you, Grace, for your patience in these trying times..

Thank you, Grace, for being faithful and understanding.

Thank you, Grace, for your love.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Twelve of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 4,586 Tags/Warnings: murder, murder/death/kill, so much angst, police work, affair A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Phew! All of you are definitely reacting to Rachel! I hope you like the twist here! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Second Chances: Chapter Twelve

The call came just before dawn. Another body. Another life stolen. Beau stood in the middle of the crime scene, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at the lifeless form on the floor. The victim was a young man this time, barely in his twenties, lying face-up in the living room of his modest apartment. There were no signs of a struggle, no forced entry—just like the others.

The killer had struck again.

Around him, officers moved carefully, snapping photos and gathering evidence, their faces tight with exhaustion and frustration. Jenny stood nearby, her arms crossed as she watched Beau with growing concern. He hadn’t said much since arriving—just barked a few orders before falling into a grim silence.

Beau’s green eyes were like steel, cold and unyielding as he finally turned to Rachel, who was standing by the window, studying the scene. “It’s the same,” he said, his voice low but steady. “No pattern, no reason. Just a goddamn ghost leaving bodies in his wake.”

Rachel looked at him, her auburn hair catching the faint morning light. “He’s escalating,” she said quietly. “It’s not about the victims—it’s about control. About making sure we know he’s in charge.”

“Well, not anymore,” Beau muttered, his jaw tightening. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number with sharp, deliberate movements.

Jenny stepped forward, alarmed. “Beau, what are you doing?”

He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. “Callin’ the press.”

“The press?” Jenny’s voice rose slightly. “Beau, that’s not a good idea. This guy thrives on attention—giving him more could make things worse.”

“I’m done sittin’ back and waitin’,” Beau snapped, his voice cutting through the room. “If he wants attention, I’ll give it to him. But on my terms.”

Later that afternoon, the press conference was set up outside the sheriff’s department. Reporters from every local and regional news outlet had gathered, their cameras aimed squarely at the podium. The air was thick with tension as Beau stepped up to the microphone, his hat in one hand and his notes in the other.

Rachel stood off to the side, her arms crossed as she watched him carefully. Jenny stood next to her, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief.

Beau set his hat on the podium, his green eyes scanning the crowd before he leaned into the microphone. His voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge of steel that carried through every word.

“To the people of Big Sky: I know you’re scared. And you have every right to be. This killer has taken too many lives, and every one of them matters. Every victim had a name, a family, a future that was stolen from them. And I won’t stand for it.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping the crowd, ensuring his words hit home. “To the person responsible: I know you’re watchin’ this. I know you’re sittin’ somewhere, feeling’ proud of yourself, thinkin’ you’ve outsmarted us. But let me tell you somethin’—you’re not invincible. You’re not untouchable. You’re a coward who hides in the shadows, preyin’ on innocent people. And I’m comin’ for you.”

The reporters murmured amongst themselves, the tension in the air palpable. Beau straightened, his jaw set as he continued. “You think you’ve won because we haven’t caught you yet? That’s fine. Keep thinkin’ that. Because every step you take, every move you make, we’re closin’ in. You’ve made mistakes, and I promise you—we’ll find them. We’ll find you.”

He leaned closer to the microphone, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. “You’ve had your time. Now it’s mine. Turn yourself in, or I’ll make sure you have nowhere left to hide.”

The crowd erupted with questions, reporters shouting over each other in a frenzy. But Beau ignored them, stepping back from the podium and grabbing his hat. Rachel and Jenny quickly followed as he walked back into the station, his expression unreadable.

Inside, Jenny grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “What the hell was that, Beau? You just challenged a serial killer on live TV. Do you know what kind of mess this could create?”

“I know exactly what kind of mess we’re in, Jenny,” Beau snapped, his voice still calm but laced with cold fury. “And I’m not playin’ his game anymore. He’s playing mine.”

Rachel stepped in, her voice softer but no less firm. “You realize you just gave him what he wants—attention. This could escalate things.”

Beau turned to her, his green eyes sharp. “Good. Let him escalate. Let him make mistakes. Because I’m done lettin’ him control this town.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Beau’s words settling over them like a heavy fog. Rachel studied him for a moment before nodding. “Let’s hope you’re right, Sheriff. Because if you’re not, this could get a whole lot worse.”

Beau’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked toward his office, his fists clenched at his sides. He was tired of waiting, tired of reacting. It was time to take control—and if that meant drawing the killer out into the open, then so be it.

The sheriff’s department was quieter than usual after Beau’s press conference, but the tension was heavier. Deputies moved around carefully, almost as if the walls themselves could collapse under the weight of the gamble their sheriff had just made. Rachel sat in the conference room, sifting through files, her auburn hair pulled back into a messy bun. Jenny sat across from her, arms crossed, glaring into her coffee cup.

“You think he made the right call?” Jenny asked, finally breaking the silence.

Rachel glanced up, her expression unreadable. “It’s a bold move, and bold moves can go either way.”

“That’s not an answer,” Jenny said, her voice edged with frustration. “He just gave that bastard exactly what he wanted. What if it backfires?”

Rachel leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she regarded Jenny. “It could. But it could also force the killer to make a mistake. People like him—they thrive on control. Beau’s just taken some of that away.”

Jenny frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she looked toward the hallway leading to Beau’s office. “He’s hanging by a thread, you know. This case—it’s pulling him apart.”

Rachel’s gaze softened slightly. “I’ve noticed.”

“And yet you’re right there with him,” Jenny said pointedly. “Closer than you need to be.”

Rachel held her gaze, her voice calm but firm. “We’re working a case that has this entire town on edge. If that means being close to the sheriff, so be it.”

Jenny’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, the phone on the wall rang sharply, cutting through the tense atmosphere. Both women froze for a moment before Jenny moved to answer it.

“Sheriff’s department,” she said briskly. Her expression darkened almost immediately. “What?”

Rachel stood, already sensing the shift. “What is it?”

Jenny hung up the phone, her face pale. “Another call. Another body.”

Beau stood on the edge of the latest crime scene, his hat pulled low as he stared down at the lifeless body of a young woman sprawled in the middle of her living room. The now-familiar signs were all there—no forced entry, no struggle, no discernible reason. Just another life stolen.

Rachel stepped up beside him, her voice low. “It’s like he’s taunting you. Hitting back after your challenge.”

Beau didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tight as he took in the scene. “You think this is retaliation?”

“I think it’s a message,” Rachel said, her brown eyes scanning the room. “He wants to remind you who’s in control.”

Beau let out a slow breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Not for long.”

As the forensic techs worked around them, Rachel stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his. “This was a risk, Beau. You knew that when you made that call.”

“I did,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’d do it again.”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze searching. “This is personal for you, isn’t it?”

He turned to look at her, his green eyes hard but full of conviction. “Every case is personal. These are my people, Rachel. I’m not just a sheriff—I’m their neighbor, their friend. I know what it’s like to lose someone and feel like there’s no justice. I won’t let that happen here.”

Her expression softened, and she reached out, her hand briefly brushing his arm. “We’ll get him, Beau. I promise.”

The moment lingered longer than it should have, the air between them charged. Beau felt the familiar pull, the tension he’d been trying to ignore since she’d arrived. He stepped back slightly, breaking the moment.

“We need to find somethin’ here,” he said gruffly, turning his attention back to the scene. “Anything. There’s gotta be somethin’ he’s leavin’ behind.”

Rachel nodded, stepping back as well, her professional demeanor sliding firmly into place. “We’ll comb through everything.”

Hours later, Beau returned to the station, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The latest murder weighed on him more than the others—it felt like a direct slap in the face. His gamble with the press conference hadn’t worked. If anything, it had emboldened the killer.

As he sat at his desk, the silence of his office was broken by a knock. Rachel stepped in, her expression a mix of determination and concern. She closed the door behind her, holding a stack of papers.

“We’ve got something,” she said, setting the papers on his desk.

Beau straightened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “What is it?”

“A pattern,” Rachel said, pointing to the papers. “It’s faint, but it’s there. The locations of the murders—they all fall within a specific radius. Almost like he’s circling something.”

Beau leaned over the papers, his eyes narrowing. “What’s in the center of the circle?”

Rachel hesitated before answering. “Nothing obvious. But we’re digging into the area now.”

Beau nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. Let’s see where this leads.”

As Rachel turned to leave, she paused, glancing back at him. “Get some rest, Beau. You’re no good to anyone if you burn out.”

“I’ll rest when this is over,” he replied, his voice firm.

Rachel didn’t push, simply nodding before stepping out of the office. Beau sat back in his chair, staring at the papers spread out before him. The flicker of hope Rachel had brought was faint, but it was enough to keep him going. And as he stared at the center of the circle on the map, he silently vowed that this time, he wouldn’t let the killer slip through his fingers.

The sheriff’s department was quiet, the clock on the wall ticking softly in the background. Papers and files were spread across the table in the conference room, the culmination of weeks of dead ends and frustration. Beau sat at the edge of the table, leaning over a map, his green eyes scanning the marked locations for what felt like the thousandth time.

Rachel was across from him, her auburn hair loosely tied back, her brown eyes focused as she pored over a stack of property records. The tension in the room was palpable—both from the case and something unspoken that had been building between them for weeks.

“Beau,” Rachel said suddenly, her voice breaking the heavy silence. She straightened, holding up a sheet of paper. “I’ve got something.”

Beau looked up sharply, his exhaustion momentarily replaced by sharp focus. “What is it?”

Rachel moved around the table, standing next to him as she spread the paper on top of the map. Her finger traced the lines of the radius they’d identified weeks ago. “I went back through the property records. There’s one location that ties it all together—this house, right here.” She pointed to the center of the radius.

“What about it?” Beau asked, leaning in closer.

“It used to belong to Ia Hanlon, but when he died, it was abandoned. His son, Victor Hanlon, was institutionalized as a teenager for violent behavior. He was released five years ago—right around the time these killings started.”

Beau’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. “You think he’s been livin’ there?”

“It fits,” Rachel said. “It’s secluded, off the main roads, easy to access without drawing attention. It’s the perfect hiding spot.”

Beau stared at the map, the weight of weeks of frustration lifting just slightly. For the first time, they had something concrete. He turned to Rachel, his green eyes locking onto her. “Rachel, this could be it. This could be what breaks the case.”

She smiled faintly, her brown eyes lighting up with the same spark of hope. “We need to move fast. If he’s there—”

“We’ve got him,” Beau finished, his voice firm.

For a moment, the intensity of the moment hung between them. Beau stepped closer, his gratitude and relief written plainly on his face. “You don’t know what this means,” he said softly, his voice low. “After all this time…”

Rachel looked up at him, her expression softening. “I told you we’d find him, Beau.”

The space between them disappeared, and for a fleeting moment, Beau felt himself leaning in, his hand brushing against hers on the edge of the table. Her breath hitched, and her gaze flickered to his lips. The pull between them was undeniable, electric.

But just as he moved closer, the image of Y/N and Eliza flashed in his mind. He froze, reality crashing down around him. Jaw tightening, he stepped back abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t do this.”

Rachel blinked, her expression flickering with a mix of understanding and disappointment. She nodded, stepping back as well. “Let’s just focus on catching him.”

Beau exhaled, nodding sharply. “Jenny’s on call. Let’s move.”

The convoy of patrol cars sped toward the Hanlon property, the cool night air whipping past as Beau gripped the wheel tightly. Rachel sat in the passenger seat, the tension between them unspoken but heavy. Neither said a word, their focus squarely on the task ahead.

The property came into view—a dilapidated house shrouded in darkness, overgrown trees and weeds framing it like a grim portrait. Beau pulled the truck to a stop, his green eyes scanning the area. “Surround the house,” he ordered into his radio. “We take this slow.”

Deputies spread out, their flashlights slicing through the dark. Beau and Rachel moved toward the front door, their movements quiet but deliberate. Just as Beau reached the porch, a rustling sound came from the side of the house.

He froze, his hand moving to his weapon. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

Rachel nodded, her flashlight sweeping the area. The sound grew louder—footsteps, quick and frantic, coming from the side yard.

“Hanlon!” Beau shouted, breaking into a sprint as a figure burst from the shadows, darting toward the woods. The man’s silhouette was sharp against the faint moonlight, his movements panicked but fast.

“Stop!” Beau yelled, his voice cutting through the night. Deputies fanned out, their flashlights converging on the fleeing figure, but Hanlon was too fast, his path erratic as he disappeared into the thick trees.

“Damn it!” Beau growled, his fists clenching as he stopped at the edge of the woods. He turned to the deputies. “Fan out! Don’t let him get too far!”

Rachel caught up, her breath coming in quick bursts. “He’s running scared,” she said. “That’s something.”

Beau shook his head, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “Not enough. We had him, Rachel. We had him.”

Rachel placed a hand on his arm, her touch grounding him. “We’ll get him,” she said firmly. “He can’t run forever.”

Beau exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he stared into the dark forest. “Tear this place apart,” he said, his voice cold. “Every inch. He’s left somethin’ behind, and we’re going to find it.”

And as the deputies moved to search the property, Beau stood at the edge of the woods, his mind racing. He’d been close—so close—and he wouldn’t stop until Victor Hanlon was behind bars.

The exhaustion hit Beau like a freight train the next morning. His body ached with fatigue, his green eyes bloodshot as he stared at the murder board in the conference room. The familiar faces of the victims stared back at him, each one a painful reminder of how far they were from catching Victor Hanlon. His coffee sat untouched, going cold on the desk as the minutes dragged on.

Jenny stepped into the room, her boots clicking softly against the floor. She folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she watched him with a mix of concern and frustration. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, Beau.”

“I haven’t,” he replied flatly, not looking up.

Jenny sighed, stepping closer. “You need to take a break. You’re running yourself into the ground, and it’s not helping anyone.”

“I can’t,” Beau said, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Not when he’s still out there.”

“Beau,” Jenny said, her tone softening, “you’re not doing anyone any good like this. Take a couple of hours. Recharge.”

Rachel entered the room then, carrying a stack of reports. Her brown eyes flicked between Jenny and Beau, sensing the tension immediately. “Jenny’s right,” she said, setting the papers down on the table. “You’ve been at this nonstop. You need to clear your head.”

Beau shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I don’t have time to—”

“Then make time,” Rachel interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “There’s a pub down the road. Come with me. Get out of here for a little while.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but she didn’t say anything. Beau hesitated, the tension in his shoulders visible. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he stood, grabbing his hat from the chair. “Fine. One drink. Then we’re back here.”

The pub was quiet, its dim lighting and rustic charm offering a stark contrast to the chaos of the department. Beau and Rachel found a booth in the corner, away from the other patrons. The jukebox hummed softly in the background, and the low murmur of conversation filled the space.

Beau wasted no time ordering a beer, draining half of it before Rachel had even taken a sip of hers. He leaned back in the booth, his green eyes heavy with exhaustion as he stared at the table.

“You’re carrying too much,” Rachel said softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You’ve been doing this for weeks, Beau. You can’t do it alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Beau muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve got the team. I’ve got Y/N…”

Rachel tilted her head, her auburn hair falling over one shoulder. “When was the last time you saw her? Really saw her?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, and he looked away, guilt flickering across his face. “This case doesn’t leave room for anything else.”

“And that’s not sustainable,” Rachel said gently. “You’re going to burn out, Beau. Let someone else carry some of the weight.”

Beau didn’t respond immediately, instead finishing his beer and signaling for another. By the time he started his third, his posture had relaxed slightly, the alcohol taking the edge off his frayed nerves. He wasn’t drunk, but the weight on his shoulders felt just a little lighter.

“This is the first time I’ve felt… normal in weeks,” he admitted, his voice low.

Rachel smiled faintly, her brown eyes warm. “Sometimes you need to let go, even if it’s just for a moment.”

The air between them shifted, the noise of the pub fading into the background. Rachel leaned forward slightly, her voice soft. “You don’t have to carry it all, Beau. You deserve someone who—”

Before she could finish, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was brief, tentative, but there was no mistaking her intent.

Beau froze, his green eyes widening as his mind caught up with what was happening. He didn’t move, didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he pulled back, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze.

“Rachel,” he said firmly, his voice steady but strained. “No.”

She blinked, her expression a mix of surprise and disappointment. “Beau, I—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “I will never cheat on Y/N. No matter how hard things get, no matter what’s going on—I won’t do it.”

Rachel sat back, her cheeks flushing as she looked away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Beau exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best we call it a night,” he said, his tone clipped. He tossed a few bills onto the table and stood, grabbing his hat. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

Rachel didn’t stop him as he walked out, the sound of the door swinging shut echoing in the quiet pub. She stayed in the booth, staring at her drink, the weight of her actions settling heavily on her shoulders.

As Beau walked back to his truck, the cool night air hit him like a slap in the face, clearing his mind. He felt a surge of anger—not just at Rachel, but at himself for letting things get so close to the line. He thought of Y/N, her quiet strength, her unwavering support, and the life they were building together.

He climbed into the truck, gripping the wheel tightly as he started the engine. Whatever exhaustion he felt before was replaced by a renewed determination. Y/N was his home, his anchor, and nothing—not the stress of the case, not the chaos of the department, and certainly not Rachel—would come between them.

And as he drove back to the station, the lights of Big Sky passing in a blur, he silently vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let anything jeopardize the family waiting for him.

The drive home was quiet, the hum of Beau’s truck engine the only sound as he navigated the familiar streets. The tension from earlier still lingered in his chest, but his mind was focused now—on Y/N, on Eliza, on the home that had become his sanctuary amid the chaos. He’d been away from them for too long, and tonight, he was determined to make things right.

As he turned onto his street, something prickled at the back of his neck—a vague unease that he couldn’t quite place. When the house came into view, his stomach sank. The porch light was off, and the front door was slightly ajar, the wood splintered near the lock.

Beau slammed the truck into park, his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his veins. His hand instinctively went to his holstered weapon as he stepped out of the vehicle. Every instinct he had screamed that something was wrong.

He pulled out his phone, his voice low and urgent as he called the department. “This is Sheriff Arlen. I need units dispatched to my residence immediately. Possible break-in, potential hostages. Approach with caution.”

“Copy that, Sheriff,” came Jenny’s voice, sharp and steady. “We’re on our way.”

Beau hung up, his grip tightening on his gun as he approached the house. The slight creak of the door as he pushed it open made his stomach twist. The living room was dimly lit, the air heavy with an unnatural stillness. Then he heard it—a soft, terrified sob coming from the kitchen followed by Eliza’s frightened wails.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his heart hammering in his chest.

He moved carefully, his boots silent against the floor. As he rounded the corner, the sight before him stopped him cold.

Y/N was sitting in a chair, her hands bound behind her back, her face pale but defiant. Behind her stood a man—Victor Hanlon. His wild eyes darted toward Beau, a knife pressed firmly against Y/N’s neck. Eliza wailed from the playpen in the corner, her cries sharp and frantic.

“Don’t move!” Victor barked, his voice shaking but filled with dangerous desperation. “I swear, I’ll do it!”

Beau’s green eyes locked onto Y/N’s, his breath catching at the fear and resolve he saw there. “Victor,” he said calmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “You don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t know what I want!” Victor shouted, his grip tightening on the knife. “You think you can just come after me, ruin my life? You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“I know you’ve been running’,” Beau said, his tone measured. He took a slow step forward, his hands raised slightly. “I know you’re scared, but this isn’t the way, Victor. Let her go. Let the baby go.”

Victor’s eyes flicked to Eliza, her cries growing louder with every passing second. “Shut her up!” he screamed, his voice cracking.

Beau’s heart twisted, but he kept his focus on Victor. “She’s just a baby, Victor. She doesn’t understand. Let her mother go, and we can talk. Just you and me.”

Y/N’s voice broke through, soft but firm. “Beau,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. “Don’t.”

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving Victor. “I’m not lettin’ this happen, Y/N.”

Victor laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “You think you can talk me down, Sheriff? You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything!”

“You’re right,” Beau said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. But this? This isn’t the way to fix it. You’re makin’ it worse for yourself.”

Victor’s hand wavered for a moment, the knife loosening slightly from Y/N’s neck. Beau saw the opening, his grip tightening on his gun.

“Victor,” Beau said, his tone soft but firm. “Let her go. Ya don’t want this on your conscience.”

For a moment, it seemed like Victor might relent. His shoulders sagged slightly, his gaze darting between Beau and Y/N. But then his eyes hardened again, his desperation flaring.

“I’m not going back to prison!” Victor screamed, his grip on Y/N tightening.

In that instant, Eliza let out a piercing scream, her tiny hands clutching the sides of the playpen. The sound broke the tension like a gunshot, and Victor flinched, his attention snapping toward the baby.

It was all Beau needed.

He moved with lightning speed, his gun aimed and steady. “Drop it, Victor!” he shouted, his voice like thunder.

The kitchen erupted in chaos as Victor hesitated, torn between his rage and his fear. Beau’s green eyes blazed with determination, his focus razor-sharp. “Let her go, or I swear, I’ll drop you where you stand.”

Victor’s hand trembled, the knife wavering dangerously close to Y/N’s neck. Seconds stretched into eternity before Victor snarled, shoving Y/N forward and bolting for the back door.

Beau rushed forward, catching Y/N before she fell, his arms steady around her. “You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with emotion.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “Eliza—”

“I’ve got her,” Beau said, releasing Y/N and running to the playpen. He scooped Eliza into his arms, her cries quieting slightly as he held her close.

The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, and Beau turned to Y/N, his voice resolute. “Stay here. Deputies are on their way.”

“No, Beau!” Y/N cried, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave us.”

He hesitated, his heart torn, but the sound of the back door slamming snapped him back into focus. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

And with that, he handed Eliza to Y/N, kissed her forehead, and ran out the door, his gun drawn, ready to finish what had begun.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

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[imaginefan]

Never To Plan

Klaus Mikaelson!Father X Son!Reader Damon Salvatore X Male!Reader

Word Count: 1069

Requested: @emaz-0225

Request: Hello I love your work but can you do a imagine where your the son of Katherine and Klaus and your just like them and your best friend is Kai Parker and your trying to get him out of the Prison World. You come into Mystic Falls and you See your old friend Stefan Dating your moms look alike and you fall for Damon and you guys start dating. Klaus comes into town and your thrown into WWW 3 so you go to Europe and then called back to the drama when Hayley is pregnant and you get along with Josh and Hayley and Davina but when Hope is born you sacrifice yourself to The crazy Aunt but you find out Damon is with Elena now and you turn off your emotions

You had come to Mystic Falls in search of a way to get your friend out of the Prison World but you ended up getting a little side tracked with Damon Salvatore catching your attention your plan stopped dead in it’s tracks, well kind of, you were still looking for ways to get him out but you were hitting more roadblocks then you wanted. That being said the real problem was your father, you were thrown into a fight you wanted no part in and so with no way to save both sides you take a step back and instead go to Europe in hopes of getting your search for Kai back on track and finding what you had really travelled all this time for.

That was how you found yourself in a small cafe in the east of London on the phone to your father who was in New Orleans “well what a surprise, I didn’t expect to hear from you.” You said as you answered the call. “I need your help.” He said. “Is that so?” You asked, taking a sip of the hot drink in front of you as you winked at the waitress who brought it over. “You have a sister.” He said. “You know that doesn’t surprise me.” You mumbled, you could feel his glare from across the sea. “What does that mean?” He asked. “We both know what that means.” You shuffled in your seat “what does your daughter have to do with me? What do you suddenly need your estranged son for?” “I need to show someone what a true king looks like and what his prince is capable of.” Klaus answered. “This king is you?” You downed the last of the drink before nodding in thanks to the girl who had served you before standing up. “And you, the prince.” Klaus confirmed. “No need to flatter me your highness, I know I’m only a prince in name.” You said as you walked back to the hotel that you were staying in. “Then prove to them that you are not.” He hung up the phone after that.

When you got to New Orleans a lot had already happened but the only thing that you did know was that it was that your father offered you a chance to make a mess and you had been bored for a few months now. “So you’re Marcellus, correct?” You asked as you looked at the man standing in the middle of the courtyard. “Who are you?” He asked. “(Y/N).” Rebekah said from her place next to Marcel. “Auntie Bekah, don’t tell me you’d abandon your family for a man?” You teased as you stepped closer. “He thinks that you would be enough to beat every vampire in this city?” Marcel asked, drawing your attention back to him. “Sunshine, I was born better than any vampire, werewolf or witch that you can throw at me but please do try.” You smirked “where are your forces anyway I’m itching to snap a neck and if it’s not them it will be you.” Someone grabbed you from behind, throwing you back into the wall “here we go.” You easily ripped apart the first few men next attacking together and getting a few hits in before you took them down, your hand in the chest of the last to attack you before you heard. “Hold on a moment.” Klaus said as he walked into the room “Marcel it seems that your men aren’t up to the challenge.” “Klaus.” Marcel glared. “Here I have a coin!” Klaus put it down on the floor “whoever picks up this coin will be spared his game!” “Game?” You squeezed the heart that resided in the chest you had punched through “I don’t think they are having much fun.” “But you are.” Klaus smirked, your eyes drawn to Rebekah as she whispered something to Marcel, you watched carefully as he stepped forward and bent, picking up the coin, you smirked as you pulled your hand from the man's chest and let him fall. “Nicely done your highness, I’ll be leaving then?” You asked and Klaus smirked. “Why would the prince leave his kingdom?”

It was years before real trouble found your family, you don’t know why it took so long but as your aunt claimed right to you or your sister, you decided that it would be you that she took, you had no intention of giving someone else in your place and so you left with her before anyone could stop you.

You honestly expected it to take longer, for her to break you but it only took her a few weeks to find out what you had left for your family what you hoped to one day go back to and took you to Mystic Falls told you to go and see the man that you had left, you walked into the boat house happier than you had in years and it was torn from you in seconds “(Y/N)?” Damon asked, you swallowed as you looked between the two, Damon and Elena more friendly then they were when you had left. “How long?” You asked. “(Y/N)-” “How long?” You asked again, fists curled so tight that you thought you might break your own hand. “You know what it doesn’t matter because I was told by so many people that you would break me-” “Break you!?” Damon asked. “You were the one that left!” “To protect every one of you because if my father had made me fight with him, you would have likely been the only one I would have convinced him to leave alive.” You answered. “Nice to know that you can think the worst of me.” “I-” “You had everything that I had left to give so if you’ll excuse me I have a prison to get back to.” You muttered. “(Y/N) wait!” Elena was the one that called out this time but when you turned back they all saw it, the dead look behind your eyes. “If you ever come near me again, either one of you, I will take the part of you that you love the most and twist it into your worst nightmare.” You threatened. “Come (Y/N), we have work to do.” Dahlia said as she gestured for you to follow her, you turned leaving the two alone in the house.

*Part 2*

Requests and general question!

[thrilling-oneway]

Tsukasa Tenma

3.5k

I've mentioned it before but WxS is the group I would consider to be the least close on a personal level. It's complicated to put into words. They clearly love and treasure each other dearly and Our Happy Ending really works to show us just how much their friendship means to them and how broken they would be without it. But despite that there's still barriers. I come back to what Rui said in KAITO's initial card about how he and Tsukasa aren't the kind of close friends who talk about their childhood memories. Like... how to put this. WonderlandsxShowtime is an incredibly tight-knit and valued circle of friendship, but Tsukasa in particular very rarely divulges information about his past. Mainly in regards as to how he came to be like this, like Tsukasa. They know about the shows and that he wanted to make Saki smile but there's those small personal details that are only known because of Toya telling Rui about them.

WxS is incredibly important to Tsukasa, Our Happy Ending is evidence enough of that in that he actually broke down crying for the 3 whole seconds they were disbanded. I think it's more obvious that they're important on a professional level (thanking Emu for hiring him in OHE, thanking Rui for being their director in the connect live), but he does care about them on a personal level he's just less vocal about that part. It's still very obviously there but just not explicitly in the words "I love my friends thank you for being with me", and by no means does it need to be. Maybe the audience interpretation is not helped by the fact that Tsukasa is somewhat single-minded about theatre. He throws himself all into that - theatre comes first, evidenced by Phoenix where he neglects his health for the sake of a role and his development. As well as this there's the fact he tries to tackle most of his challenges alone, rather than asking for help. He goes into tunnel vision when theatre is concerned, although it has been stated a few times that his childhood experiences very much did shape who he is, and I do wonder if having to take care of himself so often from such a young age plays into his mindset of having to do things on his own, even when he encourages his friends to do the opposite. However, over time he is gradually learning to, well, learn from other people. He's got WxS and he's got other actors around him to help him, and he is learning that he can rely on them when he hits roadblocks. A star shines brighter because of those around him, a lesson he learnt well in the main story.

And while there isn't really anything to confirm this, I get the feeling that part of the reason he never got an event covering his feelings over the disbandment and overall seemed to be far more ok with the idea is maybe because he's a realist in some ways. As I said, nothing to actually suggest this, mainly just thinking what would make sense given his childhood where he was constantly exposed to the harsher things in life through Saki being in hospital for a lot of it. That said, he kinda just doesn't like to think about negative things. We see him faced with the possibility of the group disbanding a few times, but his reaction is always to worry about it later, and enjoy it now. Or something along those lines. Like think about in Dazzling Light where it takes him a while to realise that actually he used the piano when he was lonely the same way Torpe used the stars. Or in Phoenix at the Sky's Edge where he has to force himself to break down in defeat and accept that he isn't as good as his peers.

As I said, WxS are important friends to him, even if he usually only vocalises this on a professional level. Like even if it isn't said it's obvious by his actions that they mean something personally. He respects Emu's wishes to make people smile over everything because they align with his own. Both of their dreams were sparked by a loved one that they treasure dearly and with their whole heart. He wants Emu to be happy as well, and wants her to be more open with the troupe (Smile of Dreamer), and in Wonder Magical Showtime, he put the competition that could get him a head start in his career aside for Emu's dreams to uphold her grandfather's legacy, knowing full well that he was giving up an opportunity for himself. It was a completely selfless act for her benefit.

He respects Nene's talent and aspirations, and again they align with his own, to be able to be good enough to see stages worldwide. Even if they bicker, he does care about her, checking in on her at school to see how she's doing in her new class (Hello Good Day), and encouraging her as she improves her singing and works towards her dreams. He gets genuinely worried for her and not just the show in Holy Night when she hits a roadblock with her singing. Admittedly I think their relationship is a little less defined that Tsukasa's relationships with Emu and Rui, but also I am going off memory on this one so it might just be that I remember Nene events less. Nonetheless, they have a lot of respect for each other, despite their bickering and Nene usually acting annoyed at him, they are still close friends who are important to each other both personally and professionally. Due to them being the main actors of the group as well, they naturally fall into that respectful and friendly rivalry. Both of them are incredibly talented and can see each other's abilities as a goal to work towards, though this is more defined from Nene's side, given she's slightly more focused on the singing side of things over acting.

Skipping over the relationships that don’t involve Tsukasa and going straight to Rui because, well, this is an analysis of Tsukasa. But, how to put it, it feels like Tsukasa and Rui’s relationship might be one of the most misunderstood within WxS? Like maybe it’s because they’re the designated comedy duo as Oddball 1-2, but also there’s like 2 and a bit events dedicated to it so I dunno. Anyway.

Tsukasa dislikes the Oddball 1-2 bit because he doesn’t like getting in trouble at school. In 2nd year he was the class president and in 3rd year he joined the disciplinary committee because he didn’t like the fact he had a bad reputation and was supposedly (definitely) considered a problem child. He adamantly refuses that he is a problem child and wants to be a responsible model student. That's the issue he has with it. He actually doesn't actually mind doing all of Rui's stunts even if he does complain sometimes, because he knows even if they sound dangerous Rui wouldn't do something that would get him hurt (Wonder Halloween).

Tsukasa's relationship with Rui is built on a mutual trust, because obviously as an actor and director they have to be able to understand and work with each other (Curtain Call). Tsukasa trusts that Rui will help him to shine, Rui trusts that Tsukasa will perform under his direction to 12000%, and they trust each other to put on the greatest show together. And again respect comes into play because of their aligned goals. That said their relationship isn't strictly limited to the professional side and Pandemonium is definitely the biggest game changer in that aspect. Actually while everyone talks about the end there's actually a couple earlier scenes that are needed to add the full context of it, even if the event is mostly from Rui's POV. Actually the most important scene is probably the part where Shizuku tells an anecdote about her and Tsukasa as kids and then mentions that Tsukasa is the kind of person who really loves his friends, and then Rui realises that Tsukasa had been looking out for him the entire trip and making sure he was getting along with his classmates. So even if it's not from the POV of Tsukasa himself, it's very clear that Tsukasa does care about Rui a lot and values him as both a good friend and a director. They actually become significantly closer after this event if recent interactions are anything to go by (Tsukasa's new 2* has them going shopping together, something Emu and Nene do often who were always closer friends than the boys were).

I don't think the scene at the end was one-sided either. Even though Rui says that he was able to change because of Tsukasa, what Tsukasa said in response isn't wrong. He accepted Rui's thanks, but he still turns it back on him because it's true that even if Tsukasa gave him the chance to stand on stage, Rui never would've actually changed if he didn't take his hand. Tsukasa's pretty selfless when it comes to the people in his life. While yes, he can be selfish sometimes about his dreams, but that's just what you have to do when you're passionate about something. With people it's different. He does the same thing with Saki, and a few other characters. Tsukasa has positively impacted the lives of multiple characters but when it's pointed out to him he will find a way to turn the situation on its head and find how those people took what he gave them and helped themself with it because that's just who he is. He's happy to see his friends happy and will point out their good points that they fail to notice. Tsukasa didn't need to talk about his own experiences then either. That would be very out-of-character for him. It wasn't his moment to share, not to mention he doesn't talk about that sort of stuff to anyone but his family. It was Rui's moment to express his gratitude and Tsukasa's moment to accept it, not unload his trauma (also, it was a Rui event).

I think part of the reason Tsukasa's events are heavily focused on him and only him when the others get events that are more tied to their relationships with the unit is simply because his arc is more closely linked to his personal growth in regards to acting. While Emu had plenty of friends, she didn't have anyone at Wonder Stage with her, she needed people to take her dream seriously. Rui had been outcast by everyone around him and just needed friends to accept him for who he was. Nene was shy and needed an outlet to rediscover her passion for theatre and people to encourage her to push through the past trauma holding her back. WxS obviously was what set off Tsukasa becoming a better person, but he always has dealt with everything personal alone. Even in the main story after WxS split, he went to the SEKAI and had to unpack his childhood memories by himself (I guess a plushie did help him out actually), and he had to get Emu back by himself.

Rui and Emu's events are especially slightly more focused on their relationships with the unit, because they're the ones who have always been pretty satisfied with where they are. They have their dreams, and they're working towards them. But what has always been the most important for them has always been having friends who truly accept them and take them seriously. That's why they were the ones who got the events focused on the possibility of the unit disbanding. Because WxS is especially dear to them.

On the other hand, Nene and Tsukasa are the ones with huge dreams of a worldwide stage. It's clear Nene wants to go to Broadway (fes card), and Tsukasa mentions wanting to go abroad multiple times. Their events are always focused on them honing their talents and skills to get closer to that dream. However there is a stark difference in how they do it. While Nene still often works on her own, she's always been pushed forwards by the others, she knows she can rely on them, and she even got to meet her idol and be mentored by her. She's got a stable (professional) support system and knows that there's people to help her out even if the work is something only she can do.

Tsukasa is the opposite - he tries to deal with problems alone. He doesn't take help until he's pushed himself as far as he can alone, he lies to Saki when she's worried about him. As I said earlier, it genuinely does seem like he feels he cannot accept help, that he has to work alone. Because the game makes it very clear that Saki is massively important to him, she is literally what sparked his dream in the first place, him lying to her is a big out of character moment for him. Phoenix makes it very clear that his craft comes first, but he also has a very unhealthy mindset when it comes to some of the roadblocks he faces in said craft.

The thing you have to remember is that all of this comes from Saki. Specifically, the situation she and her family were in way back when. Saki was chronically ill, and she had to be away all the time. It was all completely out of her control. However, in one instance of her being home, Tsukasa saw how happy she was at a play, and he built his entire life around that. And obviously as Saki's illness worsened, he started to develop a persona to make himself more confident and mature. He had to take care of himself even when he was a kid because of how often he was left in the house alone. Not to stray too far into speculation, but the thing is when these sorts of things happen at such a young age they will start to mesh with who you are. Because you are growing and if you're having to be completely independent and put on a persona to act in an ideal way, that is going to grow into you. And it very clearly did, just read the main story and it's clear that persona and idea of being independent got to his head. It's also clear that he pushed a lot of what actually caused those things to happen to the back of his mind, the SEKAI existing is proof he never really forgot, but he pushed it away for some reason, presumably because it isn't a nice thing to think about. It's never outright confirmed, but to me it seems pretty clear that the things that happened in his childhood shaped how he acts now.

Actually, a lot of his arc outside of him improving as an actor is about learning the lesson that he cannot do everything alone, and that there are people here to support him. It's what Rui teaches him in the main story when he leaves: Tsukasa cannot become a star on his own. When Tsukasa runs into roadblocks he usually will try to deal with them on his own at first, which is what most people would do, of course. However he tends to really push his limits before he accepts help, because he's stubborn, and it's frustrating that he can't work out how to get into character for certain roles. But there's a very clear development in how he accepts help. Compare the main story, where he only cared about himself and couldn't work well with other people, to Phoenix, where he's surrounded by people to support him and is able to openly show his insecurity to them. However, there's a certain disconnect between his personal and professional sides; even as he learns to open up about his problems, they're specifically his professional ones.

I think the reason his relationship with WxS is less obviously important, with you instead having to read a bit between the lines to see it does go deeper than just coworkers, is simply because Tsukasa isn't good at dealing with his emotions, mainly regarding his past (also, as I've said, he just never really vocalises it). He was worried for Saki but he had to be brave for her, he had to be happy so she could be happy, he couldn't be vulnerable because a good big brother isn't vulnerable, so he created a persona for himself. He had to take care of himself and was lonely so often, but Saki had it worse, so he would play the piano and then he pushed the experience aside when it was all over. Even if Saki had it worse, Tsukasa didn't have it good. And as I said, he pushes it aside. He rarely talks about his childhood. Saki and Toya obviously know, and Rui knows what Toya told him, but Tsukasa just never brings it up to anyone outside of his family. He's not great at processing his emotions. I think all of that sort of builds up an emotional wall between him and WxS that just makes him seem less close in a way. It's there, the closeness is there but it's limited by the fact he holds so much back compared to everyone else. There's a lot of things they don't know about him that so far has had to come from a third person (that being Toya in a couple area conversations and Never Give Up Cooking).

And, of course, it does make sense that he was able to grow closer to WxS through theatre, considering just how much of his life it takes up. Theatre is so so much to him, so it's no wonder that as he learns to open up about how he feels, the feelings that he opens up about connect to his craft. But it's that, the fact that it's all theatre. It takes up so much of who he is, which is by no means whatsoever a bad thing, but there's still a lack of his life beyond that. The phrasing there is a bit misleading, so let's put it this way: obviously WxS and we as the audience know he's an excellent older brother, he's incredibly kind and loves and cares for his friends so much, he gets pretty good grades in school but he does cram, he's loud and bombastic and loves being in the limelight, and most importantly he loves theatre, and wants to make people smile just like his sister did way back when. But then only his family and we as the audience know about the other things from his past, like how much of a toll Saki being in hospital took on him, how he was lonely, the extent to what the piano means to him. Pretty much all of what WxS knows about him is about him now. They don't know much about his past outside what they've been told by other people. You don't have to know about someone's past to be their friend, but knowing about their past can help you to understand them better, their inner workings and how their past shaped them into who they are now. It can help you to develop a deeper personal connection. Even if they don't get a whole event and it's only mentioned in passing, like Kohane for example (though it's plot relevant for her), every other character has discussed their past with their unit, be it their childhood or only a year before the game is set. Tsukasa is the only character who has his past shown and talked about who doesn't ever talk about it with his unit (outside the basics of Saki and shows). We're shown more than quite a few characters get but these scenes are only for the audience and his family to know about, not his friends.

Come Our Happy Ending, Tsukasa's relationships with the others is clearly an important one. There's a reason he's broken up by the very real possibility of the group splitting up. As I said, he tends not to dwell on the negatives, he always pushes those aside unless he has no choice but to face them, and this was one of those times he had no choice. WxS has given him so many opportunities as both a craftsman and as a person. He's a better person because of them, he's changed because of them, he's closer to his dream than ever before because of them. Even if he doesn't always vocalise this, even if he still puts up walls and limits how close their relationships can be, those relationships are still nonetheless valuable to him. As said by Shizuku, Tsukasa is someone who really loves and treasures his friends, his friends and family are the most important people to him. Despite how bombastic of a character he is, he's extremely nuanced and there's a lot of subtlety when it comes to how his experiences and the people in his life affect him. He just needs to be a bit more open to talk.

[lindleland]

And just like that, I'm done with Moon.

I was worried that I'd end up disliking this on a replay but it was much better than I'd remembered. Honestly one of my favourite games in the series.

These are still some of the best characters in the series, it has one of the best batches of new Pokemon they ever introduced, and you have a great set of team options throughout the game without it ever feeling like they're giving you too many options. I feel like the last couple entries have been maybe a bit too generous with the Pokemon you can get early on plus giving you enough XP to easily raise multiple teams, making each playthrough seem kind of indistinct. This one hits the perfect balance.

The region looks goddamn gorgeous and I love the aesthetic of these 3D models, there's a good balance between detail in the models and pixellated textures that have a real low-poly charm to them.

And this is still probably the best plot in the series, barring maybe Scarlet and Violet's.

I do have one big criticism though, and that's that this game is overwhelmingly handholdy. I think a lot of the changes to the formula were a good idea, but incorproating a strict linear plot with exactly one quest marker at a time makes this really feel like you aren't on your own journey, you're being guided through a series of preset objectives. So many roadblocks in this feel aggressively guiding, like the game is saying "this is NOT the way to progress the story, go follow your quest marker NOW", and there are very few opportunities to go off the beaten path. Additionally, while I do like the cutscenes, there are way too many of them. You can hardly enter anywhere new in this game without a cutscene happening.

With that being said, I still had a fantastic time here. And in fairness, Sword and Shield had similar problems outside of the Wild Areas despite barely even having a plot.

Glad I'm putting some good distance between this and Ultra Moon, though. Probably the worst pair of games to play through back to back given how little freedom there is in the experience. I'll be playing through the Violet DLC whenever I can afford it, but the other games in my immediate replay lineup are physical copies on old hardware that I can't screenshot on. Once we get back to the 3DS era though I'll probably liveblog Alpha Sapphire and Ultra Moon as well.

...Though I'm not really done with this liveblog yet, since Moon has (holy shit) an actual substantial postgame! Stay tuned.

[landinrris]

I'd love to hear more about the Vietnam cave photo & back in Hanoi (Norrix)!

Ugh this smaller fic is so beyond overdue. It's mostly what it sounds like. I was writing a drabble about how Lando took That photo of Martin in the cave back in Vietnam that ends up culminating in a bit of smut once they get back to Hanoi and away from all their friends they're with. Tents don't exactly provide the best privacy.

All that needs to be finished on it is the smut, but I had hit a tiny roadblock with it. I guess this is my cue to try and pick it up again.

This snippet is a bit of conversation they have while they're sitting in the sand together post-photo:

----

“Penny for your thoughts?” He tilts his head down onto Martin’s shoulder, eyes staring blankly at the natural light beginning to filter in with more force. They probably don’t have much time left alone.

Martin snakes a hand to curl around Lando’s thigh. The weight is comforting in a way that makes Lando’s body melt into Martin’s that much more. If they were anywhere with even a modicum more privacy…

“There’s a part of me that wishes this would never end. That we could disappear and live off the grid somewhere where no one would find us.”

“As long as there’s indoor plumbing,” Lando adds. But he relates concerningly to Martin— maybe that’s why they work so well together. Long lost souls who cherish what they get to do, but secretly would give it all up for a life of calm and contentment.

“I’ll build you a karting track so you don’t get too rusty.”

Lando laughs and seals his mouth into Martin’s shoulder in an attempt at muffling his noises. He doesn’t miss the way Martin shivers.

“And a studio in the spare room for you.”

“Sounds like the perfect dream home.”

Lando kind of hates how his stomach jumps at Martin’s words. They’ve only officially been together since the end of November, known each other for a year and a half. If anything, he should be spooked about Martin talking about a future already, yet he feels anything but.

Lando should have laughed and run away when Martin suggested this trip in the first place, especially being so close to the start of the season, yet here he is.

His self-preservation instincts may be a bit broken when it comes to Martin.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about when I woke up before realizing where you were?” Lando asks, letting his impulsive thoughts float to the surface.

“Hmm?” There’s a note of interest in his voice that’s disastrous for Lando’s self-restraint.

“How unfair it is that I’m spending my last days of break with you and we’re surrounded by other people in very not sound-proofed tents.”

Martin’s hand around Lando’s thigh squeezes, and Lando can’t help but let it fall in towards Martin. “Are you uninviting me to the UK when we get back?”

Their last hurrah before Martin’s tour starts, but Lando will be back working by then. He has a few days in Monaco while Martin is in the studio to unpack and maybe get lunch with Carlos, but then he has to go do his helmet reveal and do the car launch, film what’ll feel like never-ending promo material. Martin can be off-camera while Ash takes photos of him, but it won’t be the same.

Lando scoffs and playfully digs his front teeth into Martin’s shoulder. “If you don’t come to London with me when I’m not gonna see you until mid March…” he trails off, tilting his head up to look at Martin for the first time in several minutes. The stare that greets him sends a shiver up Lando’s spine.

“If it makes you feel better, we have a day when we get back to Hanoi where we will not be sharing a hotel room with anyone. And I will make it up to you.” He murmurs the last bit as he leans in to close the gap to Lando’s mouth.

There’s something about the quiet morning light that makes this feel that much more special for as simple of a kiss as it is. But that’s how Martin has always driven Lando insane— with careful and sure movements that eventually culminate in Lando becoming a begging mess.

Lando pushes closer, opening his mouth under Martin’s while trying to stifle as much noise as he can. God, he hasn’t been kissed like this, one of Martin’s hands coming to cradle his jaw and tip his head back, since they left Hanoi. How silly, to ache without the presence of someone’s touch after a few days, but it’s an ache Lando feels all the same.

[usercelestial]

guertecho is just like what if you were my rival in high school and we didn't realize we that we were competing for the same reason (we both saw academic achievement as a means of escaping our closed-minded racist and homophobic small town where we/our families had bad reputations) and one of us made it out but the other one didn't because he had to stay behind to look out for his sister and then the one who made it out ended up coming back to avenge HER sister which is a quest that puts us both at odds again until we start working together because we both care about the same people and we kissed and we were both bisexual scientists ahaha just kidding. Unless?

WOAH, you're so right, guertecho high school rivalry, secretly admiring each other for each other's ambition. liz thinks they'll continue fighting academically in college too but one day she looks around and her partner rival gets left behind. she tries to find someone who matches her, who challenges her, who lights a fire under her but no one even comes close. it's not until she rolls back into town, sees max again, and has a few drinks with maria that she bumps into michael again. and it's like she's in highschool all over again, watching him furrow his eyebrows and bite at the end of his pen in class. and she remembers that fire and starts getting a craving for it. when they finally hook up quick and dirty in the wild pony parking lot, michael is racked with all kinds of guilt, for burying his feelings for alex in someone else, for fucking his brother's soulmate, and most of all for feeling any kind of pull towards a girl who's sister's murder he covered up to protect to his own. but it's liz ortecho, his high school rival, the only person who keeps him sharp, and sue him if he's more than a little into the idea of there finally being someone who can put him in his place both intellectually and physically.

i'm so into the idea of them using each other to blow off steam and getting super turned on in the lab watching each other work. every time they hit a roadblock, they just start taking their clothes and have a quickie. they might even stop half way through if one of them has a break through, because honestly science is just an extension of sex for them (freaks).

[practically-an-x-man]

Angst prompt-

"I don't care if it's the only way, we're gonna find another option. You do not get to sacrifice yourself today."

Ooooh I've got a cool idea for Kestrel with this one!

____ Locked Away

Word Count: 2.9k Content Warnings: mentions of capture, mild body horror, loss of identity ____

The mission was going well.

Up until they hit a colossal roadblock.

"Pay to pass." the man insisted, despite all of Warren's efforts to reason with him, "No money, no passage."

Halfway through the mission, they'd stumbled into a broker of magical creatures. The property he owned with his shop - likely used for managing the larger creatures and keeping fairies from turning into imps - also happened to be the only way forward.

"Listen, please," Kestrel tried, "We're on a very serious time crunch here. We don't have time to go back and get the money. Let us pass, we'll complete our mission, and we'll pay you back at the end of the week."

The broker laughed, a singular harsh bark.

"There's a changeling's tricks if I've ever heard it."

Kestrel bristled at the words. They floundered for words for far too long - how had he just guessed? It was their greatest secret, and they knew that they'd done nothing to give it away in the brief conversation they'd had with the broker so far. Neither had Warren. Or Kendra. Or Seth.

The only possible explanation was that the broker was equally magical himself. He must have had some means of sensing it - perhaps he'd had some sort on spell cast of himself or his shop, meant to identify any nearby magical creatures for use in his trade.

"It's no trick," Warren jumped in, trying to recover the situation, "We're honorable people. All of us. Maybe we can leave you with some kind of collateral - some way to prove we'll come back with the full amount."

The broker seemed to think this over for a minute. His eyes flicked across their party, but paused a hair too long on Kestrel. Something cold slithered up their spine at the expression on his face.

"Well..." he said, "They say no trader's ever managed to capture a changeling. If I were the first... yes, I could consider that passage for the rest of your party."

Warren blanched as soon as the words had left the shopkeeper's mouth. Almost unconsciously, he stepped a little closer to Kestrel. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for them, to protect them from this newly-unveiled threat.

But Kestrel frowned.

"We'll discuss this." they said, promptly steering Warren and the kids to the other end of the shop. Once they were out of earshot, Kestrel gathered the group of them into a makeshift huddle.

"We should do it," they argued. Warren shook his head and reached to clasp their arm.

"Absolutely not."

"It's the only way through, and the only payment he'll take. You need to finish the mission."

"I don't care if it's the only way, we're gonna find another option," he insisted, a note of restrained fear clogging his voice, "You do not get to sacrifice yourself today."

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay," Kestrel said, taking his arm from their arm and giving it a comforting squeeze, "It'll be fine. He holds onto me for a couple days, you complete the mission, trade Nero for some gold and come back for me. The worst that happens is that he brags about being the first to catch a changeling, and I sit on the floor for a few days."

"I can't let you-"

"Warren. We need to finish the mission. It's the only way forward," they concluded, then popped up on their toes to pull him into a kiss. They pulled back quickly, doing their best to stifle a sigh, "It'll be fine. I promise."

Before he could protest, they turned and walked straight up to the broker.

"Well done," Kestrel said, sarcasm dripping from every word, "You've just caught yourself a changeling."

____

They were given a chain, clamped around their ankle and securing them to the wall at the far corner of the shop. It didn't take much inspection to find out that it was enchanted - it shrank and expanded with them, making it impossible to escape through shapeshifting. Clearly the broker knew what he was doing. Either he'd caught other shapeshifters in the past, or his desire to capture a changeling was far from a spur-of-the-moment wish.

Kestrel sat on the floor, propped against the wall with their legs stretched out in front of them. Hours had passed since the shopkeeper granted passage to Warren, Kendra, and Seth, and so far the worst Kestrel had come across was a backache and a bit of mild boredom.

At one point, the broker brought another person in. Kestrel hardly paid attention. It didn't matter. He was another in the magical creatures trade, they were sure, just someone the shopkeeper could share his insufferable peacocking with.

"Look at this," he said with a grin, gesturing at Kestrel, "I'm the first in the world to capture a changeling."

"How are you defining capture?" they cut in, before the second man could respond.

"Excuse me?"

"You're claiming to be the first to capture a changeling, right?" Kestrel said, with a casual tilt of their head, "So... is capture the chain? Or is it just being bound to one place- or one person?"

"What does it matter, beast?"

"I have a name."

"One you won't share." The broker pointed out, lifting an eyebrow at them, "I'm aware of the concept."

"You can call me Kestrel. It's better than beast," they responded, careful to keep their voice neutral even as vague discomfort began to twist through their chest, "And as for the capture... you're really not the first. I've been 'bound' to the same cabin on a hidden preserve for three and a half years now. I've been bound to the same person for well over five. And-"

A sly grin pulled at the corners of their mouth. Their dark eyes sparked with mischief.

"I can't say he hasn't tied me up before."

That got a scoff from their captor, alongside a look of veiled disgust. The second man looked vaguely amused, almost smug. Kestrel had the impression that these two were rivals in the trade.

"Alright, changeling." the broker hissed, "Why don't you show my friend something interesting? Transform."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Kestrel drawled, leaning their head back against the wall behind them, "No."

"You don't eat until you transform."

"Is that meant to be a threat?"

"Transform. Now."

"No thank you."

"I think I'd better go," the broker's friend jumped in, already beginning to wander back towards the front door. The shopkeeper's expression darkened with every step he took.

He turned that expression on Kestrel, just for a moment, and a chill ran up their spine.

They'd made a monumental mistake.

____

Warren walked into the shop, a bag of gold clutched in one hand. It had taken him almost a week to collect the gold. Bartering with the cave troll had gone south, and collecting the money through other means took three times as long. His heart ached in his chest at just the thought of Kestrel, captured here for far too many days.

"Ah, I had a feeling I'd see you again!" There was something smug in the broker's expression, a broad grin laced with unpleasant darkness.

"I want my changeling back." Warren demanded, lifting the bag of coins, "I have the money."

"Of course," the broker agreed, with the same twisted smile. He lifted a hand towards the back of the shop, "It's right over here."

The creature at the end of the chain was not Kestrel. Warren knew that from a glance. They shifted wildly, their form hardly remaining still for a moment. He caught sight of a dozen animals, some real and some not, but none were familiar. He found himself watching for ginger hair, rusty feathers, Kestrel's dark eyes, even so much as a flicker to prove they'd still held onto themself...

And there was none. Their form just kept changing, so quickly it made his eyes ache.

"You bastard-" Warren growled, whirling on the shopkeeper, "What did you do?"

"I," the broker responded with a terrible smile, "Have become the first person in history to effectively break a changeling."

For a moment, Warren's expression was downright murderous.

Then it smoothed over, albeit with a very palpable effort. He would fix this. He had to fix this.

"I want them back," he repeated, his voice veering dangerously low despite his best efforts to remain cordial. He hitched the bag up onto the countertop, listening to coins clink and rattle against each other at the motion.

"Hm." the broker said, picking through the bag of gold, "I'm afraid this is just not enough."

"It's twice what you asked for our passage. Pure gold. That's more than enough."

The shopkeeper thought this over, his fingers idly picking through the coins. Warren kept a close eye - he wouldn't put it past this man to slip a little gold into his pocket when he glanced away.

"Fine. I will accept this sum," the broker finally agreed, drawing out the words. There was something dark in his eyes as he crossed the floor, "Provided the changeling wants to go with you, of course."

Warren pursed his lips, firing a brief glance at the corner of the room. He wasn't sure Kestrel would remember him- he wasn't even sure there was a Kestrel behind that shapeless mass.

But he'd never forgive himself if he didn't get them out of here.

"Changeling!" the broker snapped, sharply and suddenly enough that Warren flinched, "Shape up. Pick something. You have a visitor."

Warren's frown only deepened. He understood now why Kestrel was so shapeless. The broker refused to even call them by name, refused to even see them as anything more than an animal. If he were in their position, he was sure it would break him too.

As the two of them approached, Kestrel's whirlwind of shapeshifting began to slow. With a visibly arduous effort, their form pulled inwards until they were nothing more than a small gray dog, lying on its side and panting. Warren could see their ribs and hips through the skin - had the broker been feeding them at all? Was that just another tactic he'd used to break them?

Emotions roiled within him. He felt sick with the tangle of guilt and anger that twisted in his gut. He should have been faster with the money. He shouldn't have let Kestrel give themself up at all. He only prayed he could fix this.

He crouched before them, and after a beat's hesitation reached out to set his palm on the dog's side. The animal's tail thumped weakly against the floor. He wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"Kestrel," he murmured, hating how broken his voice sounded, "Kes, honey, I'm gonna get you out of here. But you have to help me."

The dog lifted its head, looking at him with dark eyes. It was hard to tell if there was recognition in them, Warren thought. He hoped so, but... really they just looked tired and weak. The band of flesh around their ankle, where the chain had been secured for now almost a full week, was red and raw from the friction of moving.

"Kes, please..." Warren tried again, fighting hard to hold back the pain in his voice. He didn't want the broker to hear his desperation. He cleared his throat and ran his palm gently over the dog's side. "Let me take you home. Let me take care of you. Let me... fix all the mess I made."

The dog blinked once, then let its head fall back to the cold floor beneath it. It let out a heavy sigh and shut its eyes.

Warren, of course, saw the gesture as weary confirmation, an invitation for him to pick them up and carry them out of this damned shop - allowing themself to finally relax because they'd recognized that they were safe, he was here, rescue had come. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his love for Kestrel, his desperate want for them to return, clouded his interpretation. But he thought that was what it was.

The shopkeeper did not see it that way.

"Looks like a negative to me," the broker said, clearly biting back a smile. He thought he'd won. Warren was disgusted.

He got to his feet and turned, not bothering to even dignify the shopkeeper with a response. He'd get more gold. There had to be some sum in which greed would win out. Triple, quadruple the original fare, it didn't matter. He'd find it. He'd do whatever he had to if it meant freeing Kestrel from this horrible place.

Just as Warren moved to take a step, a hand caught his wrist and held on tight. It froze him in place, soft petals of hope blooming in his chest.

Kestrel wasn't quite human. The hand on his wrist was strangely shaped, too many fingers on a too-long arm. Their face was the same - close enough, a mouth and a nose and a set of eyes, but still about two steps from familiar. They winced, visibly fighting to find words.

"No," they croaked, "I want to go with him."

Their form continued to shift, strangely and painfully, but slowly they became a bit more human. After several long beats of silence, the face Warren saw before him was that of a young girl, ten or eleven. She had brown hair, faintly curly, alongside a heart-shaped face and a strong nose. And she had Kestrel's sharp, dark eyes.

He knew who this girl was, though he'd never seen her himself. This was Kestrel's prior form, Debbie Browning, the first familiar thing they'd managed to latch onto. The thought generated a fresh bud of hope, deep in his chest. They remembered. And if they'd gotten this far, a fragment of a life that still pained them, he was sure the rest would return as well.

"I want to go." they repeated in Debbie Browning's young, vaguely East Coast-accented voice, "I want to go with you. Please."

Warren shifted his grip, folding their hand into his own and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I've got you," he promised, voice faintly hoarse with emotion, "I'm gonna take you home."

Then he turned his eyes towards the broker and gave him a challenging look.

"There's your affirmative. You've got the money. Unlock the chain."

The shopkeeper looked far from pleased, but he muttered something under his breath. The chain around Kestrel's ankle popped open with a harsh click.

The instant they were free, they were scrambling forwards, clinging to Warren like they worried the broker would snatch them away again. The action made fresh guilt well in him, even as he wrapped them in his arms.

"I've got you, Kes," he repeated, "I've got you. It's okay."

As he spoke, he shifted his grip and stood up, their small form still held tight in his arms. Their back hitched under his palm, and he realized a moment later that they were crying. Warren let out a shaking breath of his own, walking out of the shop as quickly as he could.

He was almost to the car when he felt their form begin to shift again. It was just as arduous a shift as the prior one, though a lesser change. Their hair straightened, brightened, lengthened until it fell down their back in a tide of rusty ginger. They didn't get much taller, but their proportions stretched and matured as he held them. This form was familiar to him. This form was Kestrel.

They buried their face against the side of his neck, their grip on him never softening.

"Warren," they whispered, as if they'd only just remembered his name. He ran his hand in comforting circles over their back.

"Hey, Kes," he murmured, ducking his head to kiss their temple. His hands trembled with relief. He thought he'd lost them. He'd never have forgiven himself. "You alright?"

It was a stupid question. They were far from alright. But he didn't know what else to say, and he couldn't stand the silence.

"I feel..." Kestrel mumbled, then shook their head against his shoulder, "I want to go home."

"I know, baby," he said, managing to get a hand free to pull open the door to his car, "I'm gonna get you home. Want to lay down in the back?"

Kestrel nodded, another faint motion against his shoulder, and Warren gently helped them into the back seat. They curled up there, limbs pulled in tight to their chest. They looked just as thin and exhausted in this form as they had in the shop. It made his heart ache.

Warren reached past them and snagged a blanket from the trunk, tucking the garment around as best he could manage. Kestrel shifted, clutching at the fabric.

"I'll find us something to eat on the way," he added, "What are you hungry for?"

"I don't know," Kestrel sighed, sounding weary and close to sleep, "I'm just... hungry."

"Alright. I'll find something," Warren promised, reaching out to stroke their hair. Kestrel hummed lightly, leaning into the touch like it was the only comfort in the world.

"Thanks for..." they started, the words punctuated by a yawn, "Thanks for coming back."

"Always, honey." His voice was choked with the reminder of how long it had taken him, the state that delay had left them in. He almost couldn't speak past the weight of his emotions.

"I'll always come back for you."

[innocence-wont-save-you]

[An overseer is ‘sitting’ next to the scavenger as they look at Innocence’s sleeping form.]

Hey bud, isn’t it kinda weird our friend is uh… still sleeping? Like, we should be moving out by now. I mean I know we’ve been waiting for like, six minutes, but it feels like a month! And yeah, I know you don’t understand me.

(OOC: Heyyyy so uh, sorry if it’s rude but I didn’t see a place to submit an ask on the website so I’m asking here. Is this blog ever going to be updated in the near future? If not, do you plan to still continue it or is like, irl stuff putting weight in your shoulders? I wanna join the disc and ask questions but stupid anxiety is making me not do it. If you’re still working on it or left the project, don’t feel pressured to continue, it would be selfish of me to ask that of you.

tl;dr: I kinda just want an update on the current situation Innocence Won’t Save You is in.)

OOC: YES HI HELLO I'M STILL ALIVE THANK YOU FOR ASKING ACTUALLY

Short answer: Yes there's. Shit going on in my life. Mostly school work; this has been one of my busiest quarters so far and I'm constantly swamped with work and haven't had the free time to really sit with IWSY and work out what I want/need to do.

Longer answer: Yes there is currently no way to submit on the website I am so sorry. When I said this would move off Tumblr I meant it and I was finding ways to do that, but I kept hitting roadblocks because I started learning web dev Solely for IWSY. Ultimately my progress on the javascript tutorial stalled (due to aforementioned busyness) and other people let me know that Neocities isn't... the best place to host comments locally? So that threw a wrench into the plans.

I've admittedly not written much for IWSY in the time since I announced we'd be migrating off Tumblr. In hindsight I kind of wish I'd waited a little, but I think this quarter would have done this to me regardless of if I'd wanted to migrate or not. However, I still want to work on IWSY. This project is NOT abandoned. I'm just very busy :'D in a good way though! After a bit of a rough spell, my life right now is, without exaggeration, the best it's ever been, and aside from just plain being busy, I'm also trying to enjoy being alive for once. Unfortunately it means things have been and will continue to be very, very slow here for the foreseeable future.

But I do have a small update. I gave up on trying to code comments locally, and instead found an open source commenting plugin called Isso that I'm hoping to install on the website. Actually doing so will require time I don't currently have since I. Uh. Don't know python. But if all goes well, I will have that set up at some point, and then I can get started on scene 14. I can't guarantee anything on that while this quarter is still going on unfortunately, but I will promise you all that once my summer break starts (which is in June since my school runs on a quarter system), I'll put more time and effort into this again.

If you'd like to help get the comments set up I would deeply appreciate it, but again I don't think I can see myself writing any long form creative fiction until I have the time to dedicate my mind to it, especially given what IWSY is. I'm really sorry about that, but I'm glad to hear that you're still interested in this story! So sorry about the radio silence, I really should have updated a few times since the last post I made, but thank you again for asking and reminding me to at least say something.

So TLDR, no the story isn't dead, I'm just hella busy and trying to appreciate life.

[androidcharles]

Rockin' the House Chapter 2

*accidentally posts the second chapter on AO3* Haha... whoops?

Uh, either way... chapter 2 is here! Along with chapter 3 I guess I'll be posting THAT in a minute. Here is where the band starts, but what kind of obstacles will lie in Amelia, Charles, and Dave's path?

(also @bluetorchsky I borrowed Accordion and Violin for this story, I hope you don't mind, I also hope I didn't make them too out of character...)

Charles looked at the board in the park nearby his home, looking for anything particularly interesting. A couple of places were offering some guitar lessons while some people were looking for help with moving, cleaning, and such. The public board was always fun to look at because he felt like he was connecting with people, even if it was something as simple as a lost cat or dog.

He skimmed the board and gasped as he noticed something that wasn’t there yesterday. He scanned the ad, reading the text as he smiled to himself.

OPENING SOON! Galaxy Bar Livehouse Drinks and live music every weekend!

WANTED! Local talents and bands for tryouts! Performs every month on the weekends! Call the number below for more info!

He studied the paper, taking a picture of it before smiling and messaging Dave.

Dave was sitting on his couch at his apartment, seemingly on cloud 9. The past week he had been IM-ing and chatting with Amelia had been wonderful and what was even better was the date they went on. There was only one person who didn’t seem to approve of his newfound relationship, but he would have guessed that Rupert wouldn’t be a fan of him dating a Toppat.

He didn’t have much to say but only warned him about what he was getting into. As Dave let out a sigh, he suddenly got a ping on his phone. He opened it up and his eyes widened as he looked at the message.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: You wanna do something crazy?

After a bit of chatting, Dave met Charles in the very same park he found the ad in as he stared at it, a little perplexed.

“A band? Aren’t you guys supposed to be doing other things? I mean there’s the occasional cases that you guys get and of course Project SAI isn’t going to find itself…” Dave said.

“We’ve been hitting a few roadblocks on that front. Plus this’ll be a fun little distraction you know!” Charles said, “I can play guitar and you can play the drums! Now all we need is a bass player!”

“Uh, do you know any bass players?” Dave asked.

“Hmmm…. Not really,” Charles said, “But maybe I can teach someone to play the bass! It can’t be that different from playing the guitar right? After all one has six strings and the other has four strings…”

“Some bass guitars have six strings,” Dave said, “And I don’t think that’s very wise. If that’s the case, we’d have to wait a while to try out because we’d be spending so much time trying to teach someone to play.”

“That’s true…” Charles let out a small sigh.

“But if you’re willing to do it, I’ll be happy to take part! Let’s see… tryouts are in two weeks, but these live houses always rotate out bands like clockwork. Especially since most of the time they get discovered by higher talents. So maybe in a few months we can try out!” Dave said.

“Alright, let’s see who’s willing!” Charles asked. So the two got to work messaging whoever they could think of, but found their efforts a bit fruitless.

Charles started with Ellie, who was a bit perplexed as to why she was being asked, but seemed uninterested.

RoseyRose: I’m tone deaf as heck, remember? I’m not gonna be much help to your band…

xXBold_Action_ManXx: With a little practice, you could be a good bass player! It’s all in the technique.

RoseyRose: Sorry Charlie. Maybe ask someone else? 😅

Charles messaged Henry next and got a less than serious answer.

N00BSLAYER2006: I’ll do it, but I’m only playing the triangle 😂

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Geez, I don’t know why I asked you to begin with…

N00BSLAYER2006: I mean I can learn an instrument, but we already have a lot on our plate as is. Maybe you should ask somebody else? 🤨

Charles figured that Dave would probably already be asking Rupert, so he got a little desperate and messaged General Galeforce. The response was expected.

H_Galeforce: I don’t think you’d want an old man performing on stage with you, you know.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Yeah, I figured you’d say that. 😥

H_Galeforce: Plus it’s been a while since I’ve picked up an ax. I’d rather not take that risk, especially at my age. I have a feeling you’ll find somebody, don’t worry. Just don’t let it distract you from your work, alright?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Yes sir.

“Any luck?” Dave asked. He had just gotten done messaging Rupert, who had given him a resounding “no” mostly because he had other things to worry about. It made sense, after all, if Rupert was going to become captain, he shouldn’t distract himself with frivolous things like this. Plus Charles deduced that if they spent too much time together, they would get sick of each other.

“So who’s left?” Dave said, “I asked a couple of people from work and they didn’t seem to be interested…”

“Time to get truly desperate!” Charles said.

“Who are you gonna contact!?” Dave shouted as Charles opened up his messenger once again.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Hey

Burthalowmew9000: No

xXBold_Action_ManXx: I haven’t even told you anything yet, much less asked anything.

Burthalowmew9000: I’m gonna be real with ya, Chuck, it’s probably something I’m not gonna be interested in.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Don’t call me Chuck… 💢 So you don’t wanna be the bass player for our band?

Burthalowmew9000: No, I don’t But Amy might

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Amelia? Why? I thought she only knew how to play the ukulele…

Burthalowmew9000: She’s been taking lessons from yours truly over the past few months. She might not be stage material, but if you practice enough, I have a feeling she’ll be in performance shape for whatever thing you’re planning

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Does she know how to read music?

Burthalowmew9000: Nope You’re on your own for that one, Chuck.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: I said don’t call me Chuck 😠 Well, alright I’ll ask her.

He quickly switched tabs and began to message Amelia.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Are you busy?

GlitterToppatGirl: Yes I am, obviously.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: No you’re not, because that’s not your I’m busy message.

GlitterToppatGirl: Try again later. What do you want?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Join our band.

GlitterToppatGirl: What

xXBold_Action_ManXx: You saw what I typed. Hold on, lemme send you the pic. pictureid20395018_0611624.png

GlitterToppatGirl: what

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Would you prefer us to talk about this IRL?

GlitterToppatGirl: What? I mean, yeah. Uh, IDK why you’re bugging me about this though…

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Than let’s meet at the cafe and we can chat about it there 😊

GlitterToppatGirl: 👍

Charles stood up as he motioned for Dave to stand up.

“We’re heading to the cafe to talk about this with Amelia,” Charles said.

“The one where-” Dave said awkwardly.

“Yeah, the one where I almost died, yeah,” Charles said.

“I wasn’t gonna say that but sure…” Dave said softly as they started to head out of the park. They walked down the street, talking about various songs they liked as they headed into the cafe. Charles tried to put on air of confidence as Dave shrunk back a bit, almost trying to hide behind Charles.

“Let’s just sit somewhere and wait for her, OK? She might be a bit,” Charles said, “Don’t worry, if any of these guys give you trouble, I’ll give them trouble back, got it?” Dave meekly nodded his head as they sat down at one of the tables.

“I wonder if they have any conversations about heists they’re planning,” Dave said softly.

“Nah, I’ve already tried eavesdropping here. They can’t exactly talk about much here without getting in trouble, because this is a public place,” Charles said, “Though I wouldn’t be shocked if there was an underground operation…”

“Do you see it?” Dave asked as Charles looked at the floor.

“Nah, nothing. There’s a basement, but if there’s anything down there, I don’t know what it is… ah everything is android proof these days!” Charles said, “That’s why I wanna blend in so badly, I swear.”

“Well, declaring you’re an android out loud is usually the first step but… shouldn’t you be proud of who you are?” Dave asked.

“I am. I really am trust me it’s just… there are days where I feel like I want to be normal, you know,” Charles said softly, “I don’t know if people can handle the idea of an android like me walking around…”

“I mean I still like you! Even before I found out you were an android. And there’s other people too who love you even if you’re an android…. Is this why you wanted to do this? With me? You want to feel more normal?” Dave asked.

“Ah, well, I guess you could say that,” Charles said, “Maybe just maybe… I can feel like a normal person…”

“I’M HERE!” Amelia shouted, slamming the door open.

“Ms. Amelia, would you refrain from being so boisterous when coming in?” one of the employees said as Amelia spotted Charles and Dave. She ran over to the pair, sitting down next to Dave and leaning on top of his shoulder.

“You got taller!” Charles said, “Did you finally hit your growth spurt?”

“Charles, can you click the link I just sent you?” Amelia said snidely as Dave rolled his eyes.

“What’s a link?” Charles said, “Ah, wait, that’s not why we’re here.”

“You wanted to start a band right?” Amelia said.

“I don’t know why, but yeah,” Dave said, “I’m humoring him because it’s not like I have anything else I’m doing between my job and… you know… wallowing in my own anxiety.”

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, “If I had known how harsh they were to you back than… I would have done something!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I’m getting better! It’s been… a while, but I’m getting better!” Dave said, “And this might be a good distraction, you know.”

“Dave can play the drums and I’m the guitarist,” Charles said, “And Amelia, Burt told me you’ve been learning how to play the bass, so you can be our bassist.”

“Oh, that’s… great…” Amelia said.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? You don’t think you’re that good?” Dave asked.

“Stage fright? Since we’re a pretty new band, we probably won’t stand out too much until we do a few shows,” Charles reassured her.

“No, no, it’s just, I’m not sure… if… well, how long have you guys been playing your instruments?” Amelia asked.

“Well… general dad gave me his guitar when I was two and a half years old!” Charles said.

“And I played the drums in the jazz band in high school,” Dave said, “Though it’s been a while since I could afford a set to play…”

“Yeah, you guys have been playing for a while, but me? I’ve only recently picked up the bass guitar. Burt’s been a great teacher and all, but performing in front of people seems to be a bit much…” Amelia said.

“Don’t worry. We have about two and a half weeks to prepare. That’s plenty of time to get something prepped and try out. And if we make it, we’ll have plenty of time then to think of an original song or two!” Charles said, “Don’t worry, alright?”

“I’m in!” Dave said.

“Oh, what the heck. I’m in too!” Amelia said, “So where will we be practicing?”

“Mmmm… renting out a studio is a bit… pricey,” Charles said, “I don’t have a lot of disposable income between commission money and my allowance.”

“You get an allowance!? From who!?” Dave said.

“Henry,” Charles said.

“He doesn’t give you a paycheck!? Don’t you work for him!?” Dave shouted.

“Yeah, I get a paycheck from him too, I just consider the work commissions you know, like my paintings,” Charles said.

“Yeah, I get allowance from my daddy all the time,” Amelia said.

“Seriously?” Dave said, “You two still get an allowance?”

“What do you spend all your allowance on, Charles?” Amelia asked.

“Helicopter maintenance. It’s a pricey job, so I have to make sure to keep up. I’ve got all the supplies I need, but I’m short on cash this month because of it…”

“So renting a studio is out than,” Dave said, “Maybe we can practice at your place, Cha- eh?”

“No no no,” Charles said, “Our neighbors… are crazy… one time I played my piano at three in the morning… they acted like I committed a crime.”

“I mean, considering the time…” Amelia said, “What about your place, Dave?”

“Amelia, you’ve been to my apartment. It’s the size of a postage stamp. And my neighbors are crazy too. Like one time, Rupert came over to stay for the night and we were talking around nine PM and I got a noise complaint. And we were whispering too!”

“That’s out of the question than… maybe we can practice at the manor?” Amelia asked.

“Are you sure that’s OK with your dads?” Charles said.

“Well, as much as they hate what you did, they seem to really like you,” Amelia said, “And we just got finished rebuilding our music room.”

“Do you guys have a candy room?” Dave asked softly.

“Yes.” Dave’s eyes sparkled as he took Amelia’s hands.

“I love you,” Dave said.

“What about the band?” Charles asked.

“WE CAN PRACTICE IN THE CANDY ROOM!” Dave shouted.

“I don’t think my dads would appreciate that…”

“So, it’s settled than? We’ll practice at Amelia’s place starting tonight?” Charles asked.

“Eh, tonight?” Dave asked.

“Are you sure?” Amelia said.

“Do you have to work? Are you, uh, planning anything?”

“Like I’d tell you, but no.”

“Not really…”

“Than we have to start tonight. If we practice every other day up until tryouts we can at least be in performance shape. It’ll have to work out!” Charles said.

“Ah, alright, I’ll see if I can get us a practice room,” Amelia said.

“And before we head out there, I figured I’d pass this along,” Charles said, “Dave and I stopped by the music shop on the way here and grabbed this for ya.” Charles handed Amelia a book with music sheets for bass guitar players in it.

“Eh? What’s this?” Amelia asked.

“It’s sheet music. You have to learn how to read it,” Charles said.

“Why?” Amelia asked. Charles slumped in his seat before banging his head on the table.

“Why… why she asks…” Charles said softly as Dave chuckled.

- - - - -

Charles hovered the helicopter over the helipad on top of the roof as he carefully landed, checking his surroundings to ensure that no one else was around. He looked up to see Amelia waving at them.

“I’m a little nervous…” Dave said.

“Just stick by me and you’ll be fine,” Charles said, “Plus, I made sure not to bring anything important with me. I’m just gonna have to hope some Toppat isn’t petty enough to strip this thing for parts…” Charles headed out of his seat and opened the helicopter door, smiling as Amelia motioned for them to follow her.

“The music room is on the first floor, right near the gardens. You remember the gardens, right Dave?”

“Yeah, you showed me all those flowers you grow. And the greenhouses as well!” Dave said.

“Mhm,” Amelia said, “This will be a lot of fun. I got us a practice room booked for pretty much most of the night so we can practice as much as we want.”

“That’s good,” Dave said, “How long should we practice for?”

“Until we get sick of it!” Charles declared.

“So, an hour maybe?”

“I should probably warn you, if you want a snack, you’re better off getting them from me. The kitchen staff is quite kind except for the head chef. I don’t know why, but I was never able to really get along with them…” Amelia said softly.

“Who are they? I bet you once they’re hit with the Charles Charm, they’ll let me have all the midnight snacks I want!” Charles said.

“Please stop saying that. Um, well, don’t worry about it OK? I have plenty of food for us and if you want to stay over-”

“I’m not going that far,” Charles said.

“Ah, right. Well, here we are.” Amelia stopped in front of a set of double doors, opening them up to a wide circular foyer. There were various cubbies with locks on them to protect the instruments within, with several signs going on about ensuring that the instruments were clean before putting them away. Sitting at the desk in the office was a very bored looking Toppat with a musical staff going around his hat, obviously guarding the instruments so they could be rented out proper. In the middle of the room was a raised up stage, with two circular rows of seats surrounding it, obviously meant for private performances.

On the right were five or six studios, one with the recording light on while on the other side were several doors leading to practice rooms of various sizes.

“I’ve got a drum set set up in here so we can practice as much as we want,” Amelia said, opening one of the doors and revealing the set up. There were two music stands, two chairs, two amps for Amelia’s bass (which was nearby) and Charles’ guitar respectively and of course a bright beautiful drum set, which made Dave’s eyes sparkle as he practically barreled towards the set, his eyes glowing as he sat down behind it, kicking the pedal to create a small beat.

“I missed this feeling SO MUCH!” Dave shouted as he started to hammer away on the drums with the drumsticks.

“Well, I guess Dave can get warmed up. Amelia, did you read that music book I gave you?” Charles asked.

“Yep! I didn’t understand it!” Amelia shouted.

“You were supposed to study it so we could play music together…” Charles said softly as he grabbed his guitar out of his case, plugging it into the amp.

“Can’t you just tell me what to play like Burt does?” Amelia said.

“No, because if we write our own songs, you have to be able to read what’s written or else we won’t be able to play!” Charles shouted. Amelia shrunk back, but nodded her head as she grabbed her bass and opened the book.

“Uh, let’s see… Charles, do you think you can help me read this?” Amelia said.

“Ah, geez…” Charles said softly as he walked over to her music stand. Dave kicked the pedal of his drum set, smiling weakly.

“I guess it’ll be a long night, huh?” Dave said softly, mostly to himself.

For about two hours, the three of them struggled to perform together as they argued about various clefs and notes and such. But after a while, they started to get the hang of performing together through it all as they finally managed to finish a song together.

“You were behind by a bit Amelia, but you’re getting better,” Charles said, “I guess you’re better at playing by ear than playing through sheet music…”

“Well, I’ve still gotta learn it right. You’re gonna write our music?” Amelia asked, “Including the lyrics?”

“The lyrics… huh…” Charles said, “I haven’t thought about that. Uh, let’s worry about that later! I could use a break from all this.”

“Yeah me too. Amelia, I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I don’t know what came over me…” Dave said.

“It’s fine! We have to work together after all,” Amelia said, “Anyway, we can’t eat in the music room, but there’s room next door that’s perfect for-” As Amelia opened the door, she gasped as she saw two very large looking Toppats sitting in the stage area of the music room.

“Accordion! Violin! I didn’t know you guys were working here tonight!” Amelia said.

“Hello again, Amelia,” Violin said, “And of course, hello Dave.”

“Hi you guys… it’s nice to see you again,” Dave said meekly.

“And who is that?” Accordion asked, pointing to Charles. Charles looked behind him, mostly out of humor before Amelia let out a small sigh, slapping him.

“This is the Unit CC I was telling you about,” Amelia said.

“I’m not Unit CC anymore! I’m Charles Conroy Calvin! I’m an android just like Amelia!” Charles said.

“Ah, I see…” Accordion said, “So you’re the one Amelia was seeing behind everyone’s back, huh?”

“When you say it like that…” Amelia said softly, almost a little saddened by what Accordion said.

“We heard you guys practicing in there. You’re coming along nicely,” Violin said, “What song were you guys playing just now?”

“It was an ancient song. Charles seems to know a lot of them,” Amelia said.

“When I was working for the government, I pillaged a lot of bunkers. You’d be surprised at what ancient songs you can find down in those places!” Charles said.

“I didn’t take a former government agent for the pillaging type,” Violin said.

“Ah, well you’d be shocked,” Charles said, flinching a bit, “Hey Amelia, why don’t we try to come up with some lyrics during the week and see what fits us most?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s good,” Amelia said, “Let’s go eat and we can practice some more!”

- - - - -

Throughout the week, Charles, Amelia, and Dave coordinated their schedules for practicing together. It was a bit difficult to get their schedules to line up exactly, but that didn’t stop them from practicing on their own. Eventually, the next time they were able to meet up, they were more confident than ever before to play.

Charles had managed to write an original song after their first practice and IM’d it to Amelia and Dave, who had been practicing it all week. They were back in the music room at the manor for the second time this week, talking about what they had practiced.

“Did you have a hard time reading the notes?” Charles said, “I was half tempted to label them for you, you know.”

“Nah, I just used a cheat sheet,” Amelia said.

“I’d scold you for that if I didn’t occasionally use my android powers for things like that too,” Charles said, “How about we all play it together and see if we can keep up?”

Charles started to play the first part as Amelia tried to keep up with him, coming in on her cue as Dave drummed along to the beat. Eventually they started to match up little by little as the song came to a close. Charles had a bit of a disturbed look on his face as he gazed at Amelia.

“Amelia, are you sure you practiced what I sent you?” he asked, his voice a bit dark.

“I DID! I practiced it and everything!” Amelia said, “I practiced it so much that my dads got mad at me for playing when I wasn’t supposed to!”

“I practiced my part just fine…” Dave said softly.

“Well, you got a little excited on some parts, but you were able to keep up with me fine. Amelia was a bit behind though,” Charles said.

“Geez, when it comes to music, you sure are harsh,” Amelia said softly.

“I’m sorry I am! We have about a week and a half to actually get this done right and we’re meeting every day after this! I wanna make sure we actually sound like a legitimate band!” Charles shouted.

“You’re doing fine, Amelia, just make sure you’re paying attention to us,” Dave said, “You seem to do heists just fine. You’re always multi-tasking during those.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that’s different,” Amelia said, “I guess if I think about it like that…”

“That’s a bit ridiculous, but if it’ll help you play better, then do what you want,” Charles said, “Why don’t you run a metronome app while we’re playing too? So that way you can keep up with us?”

“And maybe you can use an editing program to make notes on the parts you’re having difficulty with so you can prioritize those a bit more?” Dave asked.

“R-right,” Amelia said, “Let’s see, let’s see… Charles what does that little symbol next to that squiggly line mean?” Charles gave Dave a pleading look, who only shrugged.

“She’s doing her best. This is the first time she’s ever been exposed to something like this, so it’ll take her a while for her to learn,” Dave reassured him.

“Yeah. Let’s run through it again and this time, let’s look at the parts we’re not doing too well with,” Charles said.

Two hours of yelling and practicing later, the three of them were sitting in the stage, a bit exhausted as they looked up at the ceiling.

“I can’t believe how hard playing music really is. I thought it was one of those leisurely activities…” Amelia muttered.

“It’s only leisurely if you don’t take it seriously,” Charles said.

“I guess that’s what we get for doing this,” Dave said, “Are you sure you wanna try out on the day of? We can always hold back for when they actually need people.”

“I don’t wanna miss this opportunity! Besides, once a position like that is snatched up, it’s usually months before another opening happens, even if it’s a starting club,” Charles said, “I know it’s seems impossible, but I have a feeling we can at least sound decent if we practice hard enough.” Charles leaned back a bit, staring at the ceiling before looking to Dave and Amelia.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh on you guys. I guess my passion for music burns a little brighter than you two’s. If you wanna step out, I understand completely,” Charles said softly.

“You’re only harsh because you want us to learn, right?” Amelia said, “So it’s good that you are. I’m glad you’re teaching me how to read sheet music. It’s hard to understand, but it’s really great.”

“Yeah and this is the first time I’ve gotten to play legitimate rock and roll!” Dave said, “Even our jazziest songs didn’t get as exciting as the part you wrote for me!”

“I tried to keep in mind you’re a human and that you probably couldn’t play really difficult parts. It was so hard to balance simple and complex,” Charles said.

“I could probably play something with a triple bass drum, actually! I’ve done it before!” Dave said.

“Wow…” Amelia said, hearts appearing in her eyes as Charles giggled.

“Well, while we’re resting, why don’t we take a look at the lyrics we wrote? You guys wrote something, right?” Charles asked.

“Uh, well, I did write a few things that might be considered verses,” Dave said softly, taking out a small notepad.

“I wrote something too!” Amelia said, accessing her notepad application and scrolling through her recent files.

“Well, let’s see them then!” Charles said, motioning for Dave to hand him the notepad. He opened up his messenger application as he read through Amelia’s notes.

Sunset on the beach Finding myself approaching The full breaking point

And so I run off Into the grainy sand and Make my final move

“What the heck is this?” Charles said, “All these verses are haikus…”

“They are?!” Amelia said.

“Why are they all haikus…” Dave said softly, giggling a little.

“Don’t laugh!” Amelia shouted, shoving Dave as he laughed.

“It’s adorable! I kinda like it!” Dave said. Charles laughed as Amelia’s inseams steamed up a bit, putting her hands in her face as Dave planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Well, read my lyrics next,” Dave said. Charles scanned his eyes over the page, feeling a bit sick to his stomach as he read them.

The world going around A cloud of sugar and fairy tales Rising over the land Heading down the trails

And-

“I CAN’T READ THIS ANYMORE!” Charles said, throwing the notebook across the room.

“Geez, you don’t have to be that harsh, it can’t be that bad…” Amelia said softly, walking towards the notebook and picking it up.

“Those lyrics are too sugary soft… what the heck kind of message are we trying to send…” Charles said softly.

“Well, what did you write, oh great band starter?” Dave asked as Amelia cringed at the lyrics Dave had written.

“Um… I’m messaging it right now,” Charles said as Dave and Amelia opened up their messenger apps to take a look.

In a forest deep Black night sky above A fire rages onward Obscuring everything in sight Obscuring everything I love

Wishing for another tomorrow No hope in sight So I keep running into the night So I keep running into the night

“These lyrics are a bit dark…” Amelia said softly, “If we were a metal band, it would work, I guess…”

“Yeah, it’s almost as if they’re trying to tell a story,” Dave said, “Are you… OK, Charles?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine!” Charles said, “I guess I’m not good at lyrics. Amelia, how come all your verses are haikus?”

“I guess when I think of poems, I think of haikus?” Amelia said, “They’re the first thing I learned how to write…”

The three of them were silent as Charles let out a small sigh.

“I really am sorry guys. I didn’t think this would be so stressful,” Charles said.

“I think you’re the only one who’s stressed right now,” Dave said as Amelia snuck out of the room.

“Yeah, but I wanted to do something fun together, but this is becoming less and less fun, you know,” Charles said, “Maybe it wasn’t worth it.”

“I’m having fun! I mean, it’s hard, but I’m having fun! And plus I get to spend lots of time with Amelia too, which is a bonus,” Dave said, “It’s really nice to be able to play music and write something all our own. I have a feeling we’ll figure it out as time goes on.”

“Ah… thanks for the vote of confidence I suppose,” Charles said, smiling.

“Hey!” Dave and Charles jumped slightly as they looked to see Amelia, standing with Accordion and Violin.

“So, how do you guys feel about a bit of coaching?” Amelia said as Charles and Dave exchanged some worried glances.

- - - - -

After a week of coaching from Accordion and Violin, the band was now performing much better then it had before. Amelia was finally able to keep up with Charles and Dave, Charles had managed to finally cool off and stop being so harsh and Dave learned to speak up a bit more so he could put in some input of his own.

At the end of their second original song, Charles breathed out a small sigh as he looked at Violin and Accordion for approval. Violin clapped his hands together, smiling at them.

“Much better than last time. I have to admit Amelia, you’ve come a long way since you first started playing,” Violin said.

“Hey, I wrote the songs!” Charles said. Violin only glanced at him as he shrugged before smiling at Dave.

“Dave, you’re also coming along nicely as well. You just have to make sure you don’t get excited,” Violin said.

“You sound just like my band teacher a long time ago…” Dave said softly, panting a little bit.

“Did you get over-excited in high school too?” Charles said.

“A bit too much. One time I demanded a drum solo… it was a jazz band,” Dave said. Accordion covered his mouth as he smirked and Charles and Amelia chuckled.

“Charles, I hate to admit this, but… you’re doing great as well. In fact, you may be the only thing holding this band together,” Violin said.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Charles asked as Amelia shrugged uncertainly.

“Well, I guess we can call it for now… by the way, what’s our band name?” Dave asked. They all exchanged glances as Accordion leaned forward.

“You guys don’t have a band name? They’re going to ask for it when you go up there to try out,” Accordion said.

“I was more concerned about the songs!” Charles said, “Uh let’s see… it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with a band name!”

The three of them spent thirty minutes brainstorming ideas while Accordion and Violin helped the Toppat in charge of the music room do some organizing. After thirty minutes however, they hadn’t come up with anything really meaningful.

“I wonder if people like Dim Lighthouses or Fading Trails had this hard of a time coming up with a band name,” Amelia said.

“I mean, if you pick a random thing and add something melancholy to it, of course it’s a good band name,” Charles said, “But I’m not sure if I like any of these names. Who suggested the ‘Friends Power Squad?’”

“Uh, I think that one was me,” Dave said sheepishly.

“Hmm… how about we think about us? As a whole?” Amelia asked.

“You mean using our names?” Charles said, “Every time a band’s named after a band member, it tends to go south.”

“How about we use our old names? Unit CC… Unit AM…” Amelia suggested before Dave piped up.

“THE FRIEND UNIT SQUAD!”

“NO!” Charles said.

“Fine! How about CC in the AM then?” Dave said, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Amelia and Charles exchanged glances once again before Charles beamed.

“That seems like a great name!” Charles said.

“Yeah, but what about your name? It isn’t-” Amelia started before Dave shook his head.

“I just came up with it off the top of my head. It doesn’t have to include my name,” Dave said.

“Are you sure?” Amelia said, her eyes dark with concern as Dave nodded his head.

“I’m sure, Amelia. Besides, it’s a cool name. It feels a bit more unique you know,” Dave said.

“Maybe we can call ourselves CC in the AM with Dave?” Charles suggested.

“NO!”

“That’s kinda stupid actually…” Charles flinched at the feedback as they both giggled. Amelia motioned for the two of them to stand up.

“We should probably get back to practicing. After all, we’ve only got a few days before the tryouts,” Amelia said.

“Yes, let’s do it! Let’s practice till we’re perfect!” Charles shouted.

- - - - -

The day of the tryouts officially came forward, with many messages along the lines of “Good luck!” and “You can do it!” filling their inboxes, they made their way to the live house to finally try out.

The three of them sat nervously in the audience area as they listened to the bands audition. There were a few more bands then they had anticipated and some were actually being rejected. They had a feeling some of them were already established bands, some had some followings on social media according to some internet searches.

The person in charge of the auditions and the live house owner, Ozwald Galaxy, seemed to have some criticism for each of the bands that performed. Which made them even more nervous then they already were.

“Alright, let’s see… CC in the AM?” Ozwald called out as Charles took a deep breath, confidently striding up as Amelia tried to fake some confidence, but was struggling a bit. Dave was already an anxious mess, so he practically scurried up to the stage when Charles and Amelia snapped at him to come on up already as Charles plugged in his guitar into the provided amp. Amelia did the same as they tuned their instruments, Dave getting used to the drums as they looked at Ozwald, who looked a little bored.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Play with confidence. Break a leg.

GlitterToppatGirl: Gotcha. And thanks.

They played both of their original songs, without lyrics of course as they tried not to pay attention to any little mistakes. Play with confidence and don’t let the pressure get to you. That was the advice that Charles took to heart and hoped that Amelia and Dave would do the same as well.

When they finally finished the last bar of their song, Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at Ozwald hopefully, a little perplexed when he had a sort of confused expression on his face.

“Is there any reason you guys don’t have lyrics to those songs yet?” Ozwald asked.

“Ah, well… we were going to write lyrics but… we haven’t really come up with anything that really matches our sound yet,” Charles said.

“I see, I see,” Ozwald said, writing something down on his clipboard, “I have to admit, your sound is pretty interesting. Very familiar in a pleasant way, very pleasant indeed. The bassist was off by a bit, but she adjusted as much as she could and improvised whenever she was behind, the drummer didn’t have much confidence when he came up on stage, but played like he had a thousand times, and as for you-” his eyes glimmered as he gazed at Charles “-you’re a bit too flashy. But your confidence is the only thing holding this band together.”

“That’s great! Right?” Charles said.

“I didn’t say that was a good thing. Your band mates need to build up their own confidence rather then relying on your own or they’ll struggle in the end,” Ozwald said, “But you guys seem to have a very unique sound. I really like it a lot. So, if I give you about two more weeks to prepare, would you be willing to perform again in front of an audience?”

Charles looked at Amelia in great shocked as Dave pinched his arms as if to check if he was dreaming.

“We got the gig?” Amelia asked.

“Yes, you did. I want you to perform in July, on the fifteenth. You can manage that much, right?” Ozwald said.

“We’ll show you our best, sir!” Charles said.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Ozwald said, drawing a circle on his clipboard before he looked down the list again, “Next up is Round-Up Gang!” Charles and the others cleared the stage as Amelia bounced up and down, Dave taking deep breaths as they exited the live house, almost turning in a tornado of energy as they ran down the street before sitting on a nearby bench.

“I can’t believe… I can’t believe we actually did that!” Amelia said.

“Well, believe it!” Charles said, “I can’t believe we did it either!”

“I can’t believe you weren’t scared of that Ozwald guy!” Dave said, “He seemed so cold and merciless.”

“Oh come on, he was like a kitten compared to half of the sergeants I had to deal with in the government forces,” Charles said, “But he’s right you know. In order to really play well, you guys have to build up your confidence. And I think I know just how to do it…”

“Please don’t make me do push-ups,” Dave said meekly.

“No no, I was more referring to Amelia. I was going to sing, but I was thinking that maybe you should do it,” Charles said.

“Me? Seriously?” Amelia asked. Dave nodded his head in agreement as Amelia shook her head.

“C’mon, you have a great voice! Plus, it will help you build your confidence a little. Especially when it comes to your performance,” Charles said, “Before you say no, think about it as another way to build you up and help you understand music better!”

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped,” Amelia muttered.

“You have a very pretty voice, Amelia! So it shouldn’t be too hard for you,” Dave said, “By the way, what are we going to do about the lyrics? Your lyrics are too dark, mine are too… cutesy according to you guys… and Amelia’s are too formal.”

“I think I have someone who could probably write good lyrics for us!” Charles said. Amelia and Dave exchanged glances, wondering who on the Great Continent they could trust to write lyrics.

[thedevilsrain]

waw personal post about having sisters and radicaI feminsm underneath

had like. an interesting chat with my sister about... basically trans issues yesterday. she isnt a full blown t3rf, she basically agrees Trans People Exist And Are Not Perverts (a thought my other sister doesnt share), but she agrees with a lot of transphobic and t3rf sentiments, mostly out of sheer ignorance

i broke down to her a few stereotypes, such as that there is a binary between trans people and their appearance (transfems are always feminine, transmascs are always masculine, non binary people are always "androgynous"), told her there are trans people who dont go on t, and that trans women literally never equalize their upbringings to that of cis women - they equalize their upbrings to that of other trans women

also told her that the fact transmascs are rarely seen in media/news arent because of "misogyny", its because the media finds it much easier to attack a "man" dressed as a "woman", than a "woman" dressed as a "men" (which then reveals their own transphobia because they just think the latter case is a "confused woman" while the first is a "pervert" if that makes sense)

and like.. it was good. she listened. again, most of it came from ignorance - hearing all the shit our other sister says, and not knowing any trans people herself, besides from the videos of Bad Trans People she would see shared around

(specifically, she brought up a video she'd told me about before, of a trans person at a rally saying "Iesbians will suck dick!" and saying she was baffled by it; to which i calmly explained there were not just trans women who were lesbians, but cis women who dated them, and that the matter of genitaIia isnt, for the lack of a better word, "ignored" or "forced" upon cis women)

funny enough the only thing we hit a wall out was the word t3rf itself - i told her at the end that it was nowhere close to being a slur like the T slur, and she said "t3rf is to feminits what the T slur is to trans people". when i told her "being called a t3rf doesnt get you killed in the streets" she scoffed and said "of course it does", even she stated herself braziI remains the country that kills the most trans people

i gave up after that mostly because we were both kind of tired, but another thing i hit a roadblock at was when she said "i'm honestly just tired of this whole discussion", and it honestly hurt me a bit. not because she didnt want to continue discussing it, but idk, just the way she said it made it seem like "oh can we discuss if trans people deserve to live some other day"

and on a darker note when i told her our sister wants trans people to die, she said (jokingly) "no she doesnt, she just wants them like.... to go away", and i said "yeah, go away, hide in the closet, and die" and she actually laughed and agreed because we both know that its the level our other sister has reached

overall again as i said, surprisingly good talk. shes very hesitant to mention the topic of trans issues with her Igbt friends because of her own bigoted friends, and i hope shes at least more willing to learn now

also she hopefully learned that jk roIando (as i call her) Is Bad because shes literally associating w friends of neo nazis now lol

[project-sour-grapes]

Two days ago, I got frustrated with what was probably my inability to choose a life path, so I got the sensation of wanting to walk off into the desert and never coming back. Instead of that, I went for a 2-hour, urban hike around town. No music, just the sunset and a mind churning through thoughts.

I had also gone to an Air Force museum with my dad the day before, and a few thoughts dawned on me.

I am envious of my friends who are pilots, whether civilian or military (but mostly military)

I want to be part of something bigger than myself and part of a real cause that improves people's lives

I want to be the best at whatever I choose to do

Museums are kind of a microcosm of ingenuity and justice. There are exhibits about how such-and-such gang of ragamuffins jerryrigged together the tools and clothes and planes that helped win the war and save lives. Their uniforms are there behind brightly lit glass and so are the gauges that they read and the circuits that they hooked up all by themselves. Even a Blue Box (a fake cockpit for cheaply and safely training WWII pilots) was there. I had read about them in the Talent Code, but had never seen one in person. With all of its wires and mechanics, it was really a feat of engineering for the 1930s.

Between the awe experienced in this museum, my reflections on other museums I have visited, the people whom I have secretly envied for years, and my gradually developing distaste for "regular" medicine and surgery, I am starting to think that a different career and different life are in store for me. Engineering and science may be what I need to move towards. The point is still to help people, but I don't know that being bedside in an ICU or doing an ex-lap quite scratches the itch for me.

Part of me also wants to be a "real engineer." I am currently technically an engineer, but a lot of the math and physics is still unknown to me, and that is frankly unacceptable. Heck, my research right now would be so much better and would have gone so much faster if I had a better command of the math. I can't tell you how many times I have gone through the following loop:

Hit a roadblock at work (or in applying for some engineering job)

Decide to learn all of the engineering math and physics for real

Look at all of the classes required to get an engineering degree

Take a few hours to make a flowchart for all of the classes

Say "Oh, that will take too long"

Close the browser

Sulk

I do this at least 3 times per year. And then I do nothing, like a little bitch boy. But the envy persists. And so do the roadblocks to any meaningful work.

Excuses, excuses. All excuses have a kernel of truth to them, but they're still excuses.

All of the people that I look up to overcome these excuses. They don't do it perfectly. Sometimes, they make their own excuses too or they make shortcuts, but at least they get the thing done. I don't. I dropout every time.

Anyway, back to my general life plans, I think something to do with aerospace, aeronautics, or astronautics is what I'm looking for. Aviation medicine sounds awesome, and I'd love to help keep pilots or flight nurses or whoever healthy. Making wearable devices for said people would be cool, too. There was this girl way back when, who I had a thing with, and I honestly suspect that one of the reasons things went south with us was because she was doing the career things that I wish I was doing, so I ended up needing to live vicariously through her and then emotionally smothering her by doing so. Something about exploring aerospace, flight, and planetary science again happens to scratch that itch in unexpected ways, and now I'm like, "Oh, that's why I behaved that way and approached the relationship like a needy idiot." That's a different conversation, but it's funny how sometimes we expect others to live our unlived lives for us and then get mad when they say "no."

To tie things up, I seem to be approaching life and my role in it from a stronger angle (?, for lack of a better word). More stoic? Less whining from myself and others and more, "Let's get this shit done"? I've usually taken an approach to life where I need other people to scratch the itch for me, but now I'm accepting that that's not their fucking job and nobody wants it to be. It's more efficient and it makes more sense for me to just take care of my own shit. Ta-da. Wow. What a concept.

Right now, I'm toying with the ideas of going into flight medicine (which means paramedic school, then FP-C/CCP and a few more years on the ambo), or doing electrical engineering and then making actual medical devices, or doing aerospace engineering and getting into aeronautics/astronautics in some way, or the like. Medical school is not completely off the table, but it's not going to be the main route, unless the end goal is to be THE person in charge of definitive care in some kind of flight medicine role (which is often exclusively a military thing).

I honestly feel more like myself thinking of these paths, which are more engineering-heavy, than of just considering regular medicine. There are many paths, but of course I need to feel somewhat like myself along the way. That's part of the reason I have dragged my feet with medicine--because I feel like I have to be some weird version of myself. I don't really have to be, but that's a topic for another time.

For now, I am going to review Precalculus through a course that my school has, and then I am going to chug along on this engineering-ish/aerospace-ish plan.

[evisionmediasusanfriesen]

AI Innovations That Will Revolutionize Marketing in 2025

Over the last year, artificial intelligence has completely reshaped the marketing world.

Initially, there was a lot of pushback and apprehension about what this would mean for marketers, and rightfully so.

At the time, among many other questions, we were all wondering:

Was this technology going to make us obsolete?

Would we still have a viable business model a year from now?

And how would this end up affecting things like privacy and copyright?

But once we actually started using it, we learned how amazing these artificial intelligence tools are, and how we can use AI to serve clients better.

More importantly, we quickly realized that if we chose not to use these tools, we’d be left in the digital dustbin, along with all the other dinosaur marketers who refused to adopt this technology.

The writing was on the wall: If we didn’t embrace AI, within a matter of years, or even less, we were going to be made obsolete – not by the AI itself, but by our rejection of it.

So, in the end, we took a positive perspective on AI, and ended up being one of its early adopters.

And like so many other businesses out there, we’re incredibly glad we did.

For instance, a Salesforce survey, which polled more than 2,000 sales and service professionals, found that 61% of respondents believe generative AI will help them better serve customers and sell more efficiently.

What’s more, 84% of respondents said generative AI helps to increase sales by enhancing and speeding up customer interactions, and 90% agreed that it helps them serve customers faster.

That being said, while AI didn’t deliver all the doom and gloom that many of us expected it would, at this point, it’s obvious that those who choose not to use it will be doing so at their own peril.

And in an attempt to quell some of the anti-AI sentiment that still exists, I wanted to go over some of the ways we use AI to serve clients better.

So, if you’re looking to learn about improving service quality with AI, and the kind of AI-driven client care strategies that will allow you to do that, then this article is a must-read.

How We Use AI to Serve Clients Better

AI has become an integral part of how we operate, and we use AI to serve clients better in a variety of different ways.

From generating innovative ideas and conducting in-depth research to crafting ideal client profiles and everything in between, AI empowers us to better serve our clients.

With that in mind, let’s explore five specific areas where AI helps us deliver exceptional results.

1) Ideation

If you work in a creative field, I’m sure you’re well aware that generating fresh, innovative ideas is one of the most challenging aspects of working with clients.

Whether you’re crafting a marketing strategy, planning a social media campaign, or brainstorming content ideas, the ideation process can sometimes hit creative roadblocks.

But through the use of a few prompts, artificial intelligence tools like ChatGPT can generate an endless supply of unique concepts, no matter what you’re creating.

These tools also adapt to feedback, allowing us to refine our ideas, and tweak the AI’s suggestions until they perfectly align with what we’re trying to accomplish for a given client.

And because we don’t have to spend all day coming up with ideas, we can spend more of that time ensuring we’re doing the best job we can for clients.

What’s more, AI can even simulate audience reactions, offering insights into how an idea might be received before it’s even implemented, and this ensures every suggestion we present to our clients has a strong foundation.

From our perspective, AI doesn’t replace human creativity – it simply enhances it.

And by acting as a catalyst for innovative thinking, AI ensures we consistently deliver fresh, compelling ideas that help our clients stand out in crowded markets.

2) Research

Whether we’re studying clients’ competitors, trying to understand consumer behaviour, or something else entirely, research forms the basis of the strategies and recommendations we provide for clients.

And although traditional research methods can be just as thorough, they’re incredibly time-consuming and often limited in scope.

Luckily for us, AI has dramatically streamlined this process.

For instance, if I’m looking for a report or some survey data to back up what I’m saying in an article, I could easily spend half an hour or more searching for something relevant.

But if I tell ChatGPT what I’m looking for, it will scour the internet for me and provide multiple different options, typically within a matter of seconds.

We also use AI-powered research tools for market research, as they can analyze vast quantities of information, helping us filter out the noise and ensure we focus only on high-quality, relevant data.

AI also excels in predictive analytics, which enables us to forecast trends and identify emerging opportunities, including things like shifts in consumer preferences, which helps our clients stay ahead of the curve.

At any rate, by using AI for research, we not only save time but also ensure our strategies are informed by comprehensive, up-to-date insights, which allows us to provide the best possible results for our clients.

Read: The Biggest AI Marketing Mistakes That Every Business Should Avoid

Understanding how we use AI to serve clients better can help to provide perspective on what these tools are actually capable of.

But if you want to make the most of AI, you also need to know what you shouldn’t do with it, and how to avoid these common mistakes.

With that in mind, this article explores the biggest AI marketing mistakes businesses should avoid, like misinterpreting analytics, failing to define clear goals, and more.

Keep reading here.

3) Ideal Client Profiles

One of the most innovative ways we use AI to serve clients better is by creating what are known as ideal client profiles.

If you’re not sure what that is, an ideal client profile is an analysis of the most ideal kinds of customers for a given client, and it’s based on things like demographics and psychographics, along with people’s wants, needs, pains, fears, and aspirations.

In the past, developing these profiles required extensive data collection and analysis, which was often impossible, so if a client didn’t have the budget for such an in-depth dive into the minds of their customers, out of necessity, we tended to rely more on generalized assumptions.

But AI has revolutionized this process, allowing us to create detailed, data-driven profiles that capture the nuances of each client’s target audience.

And we can do this in a matter of minutes using a series of strategic prompts that contain key points about the client.

These insights are invaluable, as they help us understand not just who these ideal clients are, but also how they think and behave.

This allows us to ensure our clients’ marketing efforts will resonate deeply with their target audiences, empowering them to connect with their ideal clientele on a more meaningful level.

4) Social Media

Social media offers a great way to help our clients build brand awareness and engage with their respective audiences.

But managing social media accounts, and consistently creating fresh content, can be extremely overwhelming, not least due to the constant changes in algorithms and audience preferences.

With that in mind, AI has become an absolutely invaluable tool for streamlining and optimizing our clients’ social media strategies.

For instance, AI-powered scheduling tools like Publer allow us to plan and automate posts across multiple platforms, which saves a massive amount of time over making posts manually.

These kinds of tools can also analyze audience engagement patterns to determine the best times to post, ensuring our clients get the maximum amount of visibility.

What’s more, AI can also suggest content ideas based on trending topics and hashtags, which helps us to remain relevant and timely.

And when it comes to social media, one of the most powerful ways we use AI to serve clients better is through analytics, as AI can identify what’s working and what isn’t.

This allows us to continuously refine our approach and focus on developing creative, engaging content that will provide the absolute best results for clients.

5) Content Marketing & Copywriting

No matter how you slice it, content is the backbone of any successful marketing strategy.

But whether you’re writing blog posts, newsletters, ad copy, or website content, creating high-quality content requires time, skill, and creativity.

And if you’ve ever experienced writer’s block, then you’ll know how difficult it is to consistently pull this off.

Fortunately, AI has revolutionized the content creation process by providing tools that dramatically enhance efficiency without sacrificing quality.

AI-powered tools like ChatGPT assist us in generating content that is polished, engaging, and tailored to specific audiences.

For instance, when crafting a blog post, we can use AI to generate an initial draft, which we’ll then refine and personalize to align with the client’s brand.

And if you’re ever stuck on something, AI can provide endless suggestions for everything from titles to headings to keywords, and more.

AI also plays a crucial role in SEO optimization, as it helps us perform comprehensive keyword research, which helps us create content that will rank higher in search results.

Whether it’s a captivating social media post, a thought-provoking report, or something else altogether, AI helps us create content that not only meets but exceeds our clients’ expectations.

Are you looking for a marketing agency that’s proficient in AI to help you serve your clients better? Why not set up a free 30-minute consultation with me to find out how our services can help grow your business.

To your business success, Susan Friesen

[swampstew]

What's the Magic Word?

Chapter 19: The Promise

It was a few awkward weeks at sea for the crew after the séance/lightning storm incident. While the pirates were uncharacteristically empathetic to Rowena, she largely avoided them while attending to her chores and training. She would join them for meals and one concert turned party, but she was still feeling upset over having her memories being publicly displayed.

At least she learned the truth about her father, the general location of the Cornu Ignis, and got to see how each of her crewmates had joined Luffy. She had heard some of their stories but to see it happen, it touched her. Her heart swelled with pride and love for her friends.

She dropped too many ingredients in her cauldron and clicked her tongue, annoyed that she had to start over. Rowena dumped the contents in Kid’s trash. Walking back to her vanity, she looked at the photo stuck to her mirror – it pained her, taking it down to put in a drawer.

She uncovered the crystal ball with intent to reach out to Sétanta. She paused, looking at the snail transponder chilling on the top shelf. It eyed her, she eyed it back. She covered up the orb and pulled the snail down.

Rowena asked the snail to put her through and she waited.

Caaa-liick . This is Shakky. Hey Shakky, how are you? Rowena sweetie, I’m well. How are you? Oh I’m good. I was feeling nostalgic and hoping I could speak to Rayleigh. Is he around? No, I’m sorry he’s with Luffy. He’s been gone for a few months now. Training is ramping up. How is your training going? Uhh you know, challenging. Hitting some roadblocks. Was hoping for some clarity or words of encouragement. Awww. Rowena, you are a powerful witchy woman. Whatever obstacles you come across, you will use your intuition and magic to get through it. The light at the end of the tunnel is shining on the Thousand Sunny. Heh, thanks, that was exactly what I needed to hear. I miss you. I gotta run, take care. Bye!

Her face crumpled with disappointment. The words were kind and she appreciated them but it felt a little awkward. Did Shakky have any clue about Rayleigh’s past romances? How would the elderly woman feel about having a stepdaughter? Did Rayleigh even want a daughter? Rowena placed the snail back and gave it a little snack, smiling at it with misty eyes.

She uncovered the crystal ball again and began to meditate. Hands covering the orb, she began to call for Sétanta. She made his alluring eyes burn in her brain as she reached for him. Trying to recall the details of his face, she chanted both inwardly and outwardly. Rowena felt like she was being watched. She hesitated to open her eyes, finally doing so, and finding Sétanta’s blood-red eyes staring at her from the orb.

“’Sup?”

“I’m sorry for our last interaction. It was unexpected and unsettling. You didn’t, see what happened did you?”

The eyes studied her for a moment before answering, “Nope.”

She wasn’t sure she bought that but moving on.

“I’m going to need your help. I think I can combine rune magic and maybe transmutation magic to bring you to the mortal plane. This is all new territory for me so you’re my guinea pig. I can already perform transmutation magic but it can only cover so much distance, especially at my level. I think adding runes to the practice can widen my distance. I’m learning more on runes and I’ve already created the stacked bind rune and incorporated it to one space, but I’m too far from that location to test it. I plan to practice more here. Anyways, I figured if I could combine these two branches of magic, maybe I can get you out for a short period. Maybe we can figure out a way to keep you here longer. I don’t know. Point is, I need your help to better understand runes.”

A giant grin appeared in the orb. “Those are my specialty! Glad to see you’re not so mopey today.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Do you already have runes? Place them in front of me. We’re going to start with a history lesson.” They spent most of the day going over the practice. By the time she called it quits, it was dinner time.

“Make the amulet with the design we made and we’ll figure out how to get it here during our next meeting. It was good talking to you – the despairing wails were feeling redundant today.”

“How are you even talking to me right now? How is it that I can see your eyes or your mouth?”

“Remember my cave and all those runes on the walls?” She nodded. “That and some fire and boom – communication.” He gave a cheeky grin.

“Right, well I’ll call ahead for the next projection.”

“I’ll try not to miss it with my riveting and exciting lifestyle.”

Kid walked through the door as she covered the orb.

“Didn’t think you’d be playing with that again so soon.” He crossed the room as she stood up to kiss him.

“I needed a lesson – called the only person I knew who could give it.”

He nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He eyed the ring that was nestled between her breasts. Her chest looking sexy as always, even more so in the plum-dyed sweetheart dress she was wearing.

“Dinner?”

“Do you think we can eat in private tonight? I’m just not in the frame of mind to be around so many people.”

Kid frowned, lifting her face to his. “You doing ok?”

“I-I called Rayleigh. He wasn’t there of course but the disappointment still stung.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Can we grab it to go?”

He nodded, and they walked to the mess hall. While they filled their plates, Killer walked up to the Captain, asking if he had time to go over the maps. Rowena assured him she was fine to eat in her room; she wanted to eat then go to sleep.

The two men sat huddled at Kid’s desk, going over charts and maps.

“So it looks like a little over five months to get there given we don’t run into any trouble. We should stop at sizable islands for provisions, the more inhabited the better options available. Until then, should we discuss the plans for a base or the bigger obstacles?”

“I want our base to be fortified. Remember how the Island of Thorns had that rock wall? Like that but better. Don’t care where it’s at, just want it to be huge. We’ll build a decked-out hideaway. We can design it as we travel. I want a theater room,” Kid grinned. Killer nodded excitedly, taking notes.

“As far as what we’re coming up against, I’m confident we’ll be fine when we reach those bridges. I’m getting stronger, I can feel it. I also want to add more weights and work out shit to the hull. Let’s build a room for that while we travel.”

Killer nodded again, but then he dipped his head down for a tick before clearing his throat.

“Great ideas, on board with them all. If you will though, I still think you should consider allying with another crew or two. There are four emperors, each powerful in their own rights. I don’t think we can’t do it but if we had more support, maybe we can bolster our chances. Plus, if our allies lose more men than ours during the wars to come, that’s just a double win right?”

Kid tilted his head at that, nodding at the point while smiling wickedly. His amber eyes glowed with a gleam of cruelty. After a moment he shook his head.

“Nah, fuck ‘em. We’ll take the Emperors head on. They’re mine: Big Mom, Blackbeard, Kaido and Shanks.” Knocking came from his door. “Come in.”

Rowena walked in carrying some materials. As she walked towards her vanity, she asked “Are you talking about Red-Haired Shanks?” Killer and Kid looked at each other, before nodding. “That’s Luffy’s hero,” she smiled.

Kid scoffed, “Well he’s one of the Emperors and he’s in my way.”

“He’s in Luffy’s way too,” she smirked, putting her tools away. She bid them goodnight and left.

 Kid slammed his fist on the table, “no fucking alliances!”

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

Five weeks at sea passed with very little drama, and the pirates were trying to fish. After several hours of no luck—

“This sucks, someone get Rowena,” Pomp wailed out.

The Witch joined the men on deck. She began to do repetitive hand motions as if collecting air to her chest, then she lifted her hands in the air. The Kid Pirates watched as a sphere of water filled with fish rose from the sea. She dropped it on the deck, fish flopped everywhere. Pirates and Cat picked up the wriggling fish, happily muttering and chirping at the fallen feast. Satisfied at a job well done, Rowena went to the workshop to find Kid.

The Captain was working on a large hunk of metal when she walked through the door. He growled at her, “Knock much?”

“I’m bored. Need any help?”

He grunted, “No, just tinkering with shit.”

He tossed the heap into his collection pile. She took the opportunity to hop onto his table, laying in front of him. She gave him big eyes, hoping to melt his moody exterior.

“Not in the mood. I want to get actual work done.”

“Let me heeeeeelp. What do you want?”

“Something new. Something never been done before.”

“Oh is that all? That’s not vague or anything.”

He glared at her.

“How about we work on that cannon ball I tried to modify?”

Kid looked visibly interested in that. “Explain it to me again.”

“So it’s a regular cannon ball only instead of explosive powder the inside is laced with metal scraps and magnetic powder,” she explained her vision. Kid’s face turned from annoyed to wicked.

“That sounds like a twisted idea. I like it. I’ll go grab some cannon balls. We’ll probably want to use duds…” he began talking at length about fire hazards and other safety precautions as he walked out the door. Rowena smiled as she took over his seat.

The project took them a little over a week to complete. When they were done, Kid’s personality was back to devilishly charismatic, playful and affectionate. Sometimes a bit of a dick but that’s par for the course with the Supernova. She was pleased that his glum personality was finally lifted.

Rowena couldn’t put her finger on it; however, she had her suspicions it had to do with the night of the séance. She wanted to know but wasn’t sure he would be open enough to talk about it. Despite making so many breakthroughs with Kid, he still kept a lot close to the chest.

There was nothing special about this day at sea, in fact it was a tad bit boring. Then the crow’s nest began to alert the crew. To Kid’s sadistic delight, they came upon a marine ship that had come into view from port side.

“Men, ready the cannons!” he roared as the crew prepared for battle. He stood on deck with Killer and Rowena as they neared the ship. “Come about and get ready to fire!” he yelled.

“Come with me,” Kid grabbed the Witch with a devious smile and rushed them up the ramp to the top of the dinosaur skull.

“Save me from drowning? Not that it’ll happen but if it does,” he asked her. She winked at him and affirmed she would.

Firing shots went off in the air and Kid watched the incoming cannonballs from the Marine ship flying towards them.

“Can I?” Rowena tugged his coat. He nodded at her.

“Cold shoulder!” she yelled as she threw up a wall of ocean water, which she quickly froze into an ice wall. The cannonballs hit the ice and fell to the sea, exploding harmlessly under water. She made the wall melt.

Kid grabbed her hand and gave it a hard squeeze, yelling out “FIRE!” as his crew lit the cannons.

The cannon balls whipped through the air, hitting the Marine ship’s hull, mast and deck. As soon as the cannonballs made impact, Kid flexed his free hand. All the cannonballs broke apart; metal scraps and powder spread around the ship.

Flexing his hand again, Kid made the loose metals fly around the ship tearing the sails to shred and maiming the soldiers. He enjoyed the scene before him, listening to the screams.

“Alright, let’s see if your idea had any merit, Ro’.” She squeezed his hand back.

Lifting his left hand in the air, Kid manipulated the magnetic powder to coat a section of the hull, and for fun he also manipulated the powder to coat some of the wounded marines. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and began closing his hand in a tight fist.

The hull of the ship began to make a groaning sound, as if the wood was loudly protesting. The soldiers began screaming too, cries of panic and agony rising in the air. Kid’s face broke out in an evil smile, eyes almost glowing red as he watched the coated sections on the ship begin to crumple under his power. Wooden planks began breaking down, giant holes were appearing in the hull and the ship began to take in water. Soldiers were collapsing with dying screeches.

“ABANDON SHIP!” they could hear the Marines yelling.

“I don’t think so. Time to unleash the Kraken,” Rowena responded, a twinkle of pure malice in her lavender eyes.

She raised her right hand; eight large funnels of ocean water rose from the side of the Victoria Punk. They rushed forward reaching the Marine ship, and the Witch thrashed her fingers and hand wildly, like a puppeteer making dolls dance. The arms of water began pummeling the ship, punching through the decks and hull alike. Targeting the escape dinghies and smashing them to pieces, dragging them under water.

Standing side by side with their fingers intertwined, they used their free hands to utterly devastate; Kid and Rowena sunk the Marine ship together. The Kid Pirates were losing their minds over the scene they watched unfold in front of them.

Kid pulled Rowena into an embrace, dipping her body down as he kissed her.

“You’re a fucking evil genius,” he praised her, kissing down her neck.

“Killer, break out the good scotch and treat the men in the mess hall! Make sure they all stay there til we join them!”

The Captain turned to look for his friend who was already gone, rounding up the pirates to party inside. The couple continued kissing, Kid picked her up and brought her to the helms room. Shutting the door with his power, he pushed her against the ship’s wheel.

Parting her legs so he could stand between them, Kid devoured Rowena. He kissed and marked her neck with bite marks and hickies. He shoved his hands up her blouse, kneading her breasts as her tongue fought with his for dominance as they made out.

Rowena tugged on his pants but he roughly shoved her hand away. Instead, Kid threw her top and bra off, burying his face into her chest as she hugged his head against her. She made whimpering noises as Kid flicked his tongue over her nipples, fingers digging into the soft skin as he squeezed her flesh between his hands. She raked her nails on his scalp, tugging on his hair as he rolled and pinched her nipples, moaning into his ear.

“Kid, please take care of me,” she mewled.

That was enough for him. He kissed her once more and then spun her around, making her face the ship wheel. He instructed her to hold on to the wheel and not move. He yanked down her pants and underwear to the floor. He stared at the sight in front of him, huge grin on his face as he began stroking himself through his pants. After a moment, he stripped and walked up to Rowena’s naked body.

He pressed his body against hers. His cock pulsed when it brushed her thick ass and she moved her hips back, trapping his cock between her ass and his lower abs. She ground against it to Kid’s swelling excitement. He used his hands to spread her ass cheeks and laid his cock between them, thrusting upwards, enjoying the feeling of his second favorite asset clenched around his cock. He dug his nails into her waist as the sensations rocked him, growling in pleasure.

Rowena pulled his arm in front of her, placing it on her breast. She manipulated his fingers so he was teasing her nipple again. She slipped her own hand down, stimulating her clitoris as Kid dry-humped her ass. She was standing on the balls of her feet as her climax drew near when Kid grabbed her hands and put them on the wheel, growling into her ear.

“No, that’s my job.”

He forced her hands on the wheel spokes and he closed his hands around hers, keeping her in place.

“Stand higher on your toes,” he commanded.

She felt him dip his hips down, feeling the mushroom head of his cock pressing against her outer lips, sliding between them. He gritted his teeth as he found the right angle and he thrusted upwards. Rowena cried out as his cock filled her up. Kid groaned against her neck as the hot wetness molded around his member, his brain went dumb.

Kid started rocking into her, his body pressed against hers as he thrusted in and out with her body hitting the ship’s wheel. His hands tightened over hers as he fucked her from behind. Playing back the moments they worked together to tear the Marine ship apart.

He began to rub her clit at an unforgiving pace as he continued his bucking, grunting out, “You’re so fucking hot babe. The way you tore through the ship with your power, with me by your side. I’m going to make you my Queen of the Pirates, just you wait,” his words came out almost slurred as he felt himself getting closer.

Rowena let out small shrieks as he rubbed her nub. His words made her feel hotter, made her clench and keen as she rambled out nonsensical words through her moans while he kept fucking her.

“You want to be my wife? My Queen?” he asked her, slowing his thrusting so she could answer.

She threw her head backwards to look up at him. “Are you asking me or are you telling me? I thought you were a man who takes what he wants,” she grinned at him, like she knew she was playing with fire.

He scowled before giving her a wicked grin. He grabbed her head with a gentle yet firm grip, forcing her to stay looking at him as he doubled his ministrations. The sounds of slapping skin and squelching rang out higher over the sounds of the sea and pleasured cries.

“You’re fucking mine, you got that?! I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. No one can keep a King from his Queen!” he screamed, pounding faster and harder into Rowena.

“Ahhh Kid!” she cried, hand gripping his hand on her face. His pupils were blown, black against a slim ring of golden amber. “I’m so close. Fuck!!! Kid, Kid I want to swallow your load,” she begged.

He let out a guttural groan as he rubbed circles on her clit even faster, hips hitting her ass so fiercely it was leaving red welts. Rowena’s pitch got higher and higher until Kid felt the wetness gushing from her. Her walls clenching and sucking him in deeply as she was slammed by her orgasm. She let out a scream of pleasure that echoed in the room.

Kid smiled widely, chest swelling with pride at his woman’s face in the throes of climax. Her eyes partially open staring into his, her mouth gaped open as her voice faded, fingers scratching at his hand as she came down. He could feel his balls tightening, electrical shocks were running down his spine.

With a growl he pulled out of her, turning her body and pushing her to the floor. He jerked himself off to the sight of her splayed out in front of him, on her knees and drooling, looking debauched.

Kid reached out and grabbed her chin, she opened her mouth wide as he slid his cock in. She closed her mouth and her tongue ran under his cock, wrapping around him. Rowena hollowed out her cheeks and began sucking him, moving her mouth up and down his length. She devoured him, swallowing him up until his cock was going down the curve of throat. He was so so so close, enjoying her mouth on him.

“Who am I?” he rasped out, hand in her hair as he bobbed her down his length.

“My King,” she said through a full mouth.

He let out a series of moans as he ejaculated, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as his hips stuttered. Ropes of hot cum shot from his cock and Rowena greedily swallowed it whole. He slowly pulled out, a line of cum dribbled from her mouth. He caught it with is thumb and brushed it into her mouth and she suckled it happily.

“What does it taste like?”

“Like liquid gold,” she breathed. He grinned down at her.

Kid lifted Rowena in his arms and positioned her again to face the helm. He guided her hands on the ship’s wheel once more. He clasped his hands over hers and they stood back to chest, lazily steering the ship. They stood there until the sun began to set. The golden rays peaked through the portholes, glowing against Rowena’s skin.

“Ro’?”

She turned her head to look up at him. Her eyes looked rosy in the warm light. He gulped.

“I promise you,” he started. “When your two years are up, I’m not going to stop you or trap you here. I want you with me more than anything but I can’t be that much of a selfish bastard, not to you.” The Witch smiled at him, eyes becoming glassy.

“I still want to marry you, obviously. If you want to go on your adventures then I will just deal with it. Who am I to deny your right to be a pirate? I’m making a base so you can stay with me when you please. If you ever, and I mean ever, decide you want to join my crew, there will always be a place for you, here right next to me.”

“Oh Kid,” a tear rolled down her face. She turned her body to him, standing on her toes and hands reaching up to clutch his face. “I love you.”

His face to chest flushed bright red at her confession. He grinned at her before lightly scoffing.

“Yeah I know.” He leaned down to share a long, passionate kiss.

“Can we go celebrate?”

He nodded, sweetly pecking her mouth. She pushed against him, deepening the kiss, not wanting this perfect moment to end. Finally breaking apart, they got dressed and joined the crew in the mess hall.

The crew threw a party on the deck that night. Adrenaline still pumping from the power couple’s destruction on the Marines had them going ape shit. Drinks sloshed all over the floor, the band played in the background.

Kid didn’t let go of Rowena at all, arm over her shoulder the whole night. He was grinning widely and knocking back his glass while partying with the crew. Occasionally pulling Rowena into a steamy make out session twice or four times. Sometimes sucking on her neck by the drink barrels.

The festivities continued until the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn. Only then did Kid and Rowena stumble away from the party eager to jump into bed, sleep being the furthest thing from their minds.

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