#distance learning dilemmas

[maharghaideovate]

Sikkim Manipal University: Ethical HR Leadership

The image shows a large group of people from an aerial view, forming connections with lines drawn between them on a light background. Overlaid on the image is text that reads “HOW SIKKIM MANIPAL UNIVERSITY SHAPES ETHICAL LEADERS IN HR.” This image is likely relevant for educational or promotional purposes, highlighting the university’s focus on ethical leadership in Human Resources. The interconnected lines suggest a network of individuals working together, emphasizing collaboration and ethical practices in HR.

[lundenloves]

Dad!Simon reacting to his oldest daughter having a small crush on a boy at school! Overprotective dad!simon having to be scary (ofc not towards his lil family) but in private with Wife!Reader he’s emotional because his little girl is growing up 😭😭 fluff mix with tiny angst

Thx! Love ya Dad Simon series 🖤

dad!simon masterlist | taglist

ANON! This mf would get migraines over the idea of his sweet little baby girl and a boy. I’ve had quite a few asks about this, all along the same lines (crush, boyfriend etc) so just decided to make one of all of them. Unless someone wants something dead specific, shout me!

Everyone grab your binoculars as we observe from a safe distance.

He almost choked on his drink, dropping the glass to the counter with a cringe inducing clink. One that echoed around the now silent kitchen as his eyes caught onto his wife’s. “A what?”

His eldest daughter threw her arms in the air in battle of her mother. “Why would you even say anything to him, oh my god.” She groaned frustratedly, attempting to storm away but cut short when Simon had cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me.” He leant his palm on the kitchen counter, looking down at the girl who was slowly growing to look like her mother instead of him. “What’s his name?”

“Because you’re like this.” She gestured to him, whining a sigh and turning to her mother. “Tell him, mum. He always gets involved.”

Simon laughed, balling his hand into a fist and habitually hitting down on the counter with his movement. “I’m only asking, love.” His arms then crossed over his chest, feet a length apart from another. “What age is he?”

“See!” She shot a hand toward him, widening her eyes at you. “He can’t help it.”

“Well, I need to know what—“

“Simon.” You held a hand out to silence him, a slight tilt of your head telling him to let go. “Invite him for dinner, darling.” The warmth in your voice made Simon itch from the other side of the counter, a half-hearted glare piercing into you over what you had just asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You knew exactly why.

“Because dad will just fu- interrogate him.” She left the room, walking down the hall as she continued, “Which he doesn’t even get to do. He’s never here anyway!” Her words were spat out and Simon tsked, turning back to you when she had stomped up the stairs.

“He’s her age.” You said quietly.

“You knew?” He whisper-shouted as you took a step toward him.

“Of course I knew.” He humphed when you had wrapped your arms around him, humming into his chest. “That’s what mothers are for.” A long sigh left him at that, pulling back from you and rubbing a hand through his hair and down his face visibly stressed.

“I need a cigarette.”

“It was always going to happen, Simon.” You smiled, following him outside and nudging his shoulder playfully. “Leave her be. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He eyed you through a sideward glance.

“She’s not going to get pregnant.”

“If she’s with a little rat—“

“Stop.”

He lit his cigarette, taking a long inhale before shrugging. “That kid is not stepping one foot into this house.” The smoke escaped his mouth with each word, creating a momentary cloud around him. “Not when i’m here.”

“She’s growing up.”

“Too fast.” Simon shook his head with another long drag, the two of them stood in silence.

Being a father to a teenage girl was a new era of problems. Ones he was yet to even learn about never-mind tackle, and this was apparently one of them. The boyfriend dilemma. He was not immune to the dad feelings, resulting in many a phone call to Johnny who somehow knew everything. The man didn’t even have a family.

“Just invite the kid, see what happens. He’s hardly going to pull out an M9.”

“I’m not having him ‘round.”

“She can go to his then.”

“No she fucking can’t.”

In result, he was invited over. On one condition with his daughter, so was uncle Johnny.

Him and Simon were stood in the kitchen when the scrawny kid walked in. You had convinced your husband that holding his knife wasn’t a great idea, twirling it around his fingers before forcefully sticking it into the chopping board.

“Alright, son.” Johnny slapped a hand onto the kids back, ultimately welcoming him but also shoving him toward Simon.

“Sorry. That’s my uncle.” His daughter would point with her eyes, steering him away from her dad and to the seat furthest away. Many a death-stare had been shot across the table toward her father, all returned of course if it wasn’t for you stomping on Simon’s foot underneath it.

It was a mess, to say the least. Bar Johnny’s flamboyant stories that kept at least a drop of fun.

this was supposed to be a lot shorter but LMAOO you can’t convince me ghost wouldn’t recruit soap in this whole thing. THIS is canon. so many thoughts, such little brain.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog

if you weren’t tagged i couldn’t get your blog!

[mm-lurking]

Your mara brings me pain too - Blade

Blade is the coldest Stellaron Hunter of them all. He is a man of few words and even fewer emotions. One fateful day you get a message from Kafka asking for your help and you learn that behind his cold exterior is a man just like you- and everyone else; he has fears, pain and regrets of his own.

A/N: I don’t understand much about how his mara works but this is how I envisioned it as. Plus, it was about time I wrote something on reader comforting Blade.

ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!! Oh my god thank you for liking my writing >< T^T

Warnings: Blade x fem! reader, angst and pain, fluff, please Blade deserves so much love and affection, idk my writing feels choppy my apologies I’m rusty as hell.

WC: 4227 — Hey are you free right now? It’s urgent.

One day on the Xianzhou Luofu your phone buzzes at night. You weren’t doing particularly much, just cleaning your space and lounging around. You pick up your phone and squint at the sender’s name only to stare at it for a while wondering if you read it right. It was Kafka.

I am available what’s up?

You wondered why Kafka would contact you for help at a time like this. Was everything ok?

Can‘t explain too much but it has to do with Blade. Come over as fast as possible.

You jump upon reading the message. There is a slight elevation in your heart rate as you read his name. Blade was the Stellaron Hunter that had caught your eye when you first encountered him. As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you started realising that perhaps you were in love with him. The idea of that sounded so stupid that you hated to admit it but it was the truth. Obviously, the 9 million bounty over his head wasn’t discouraging enough to stop these feelings.

Left with no choice, you grab your phone and head out the door, practically sprinting to the hideout where those two resided. You’re breathless by the time you arrive and knock on the door, panting like a dog as Kafka opens it. She looks at you with surprise all over her face.

“You’re here. That was fast.”

“You said it had to do with Blade so.”

“Ah yes, it does. Come inside.”

You follow her inside and shut the door close. Neither of you say anything and you silently follow her to a room in the distance. Right before she enters the room she turns around and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“His mara is acting up again but this time he is wounded pretty badly. While I use my spirit whisperer to calm him down, I need you to help me heal and keep him steady. There is a first aid kit on the table inside.”

You stare at her with wide eyes and blink, taking a minute to process her words. Your gaze flicks back and forth between Kafka and the door, and you take a long pause before saying anything.

“Kafka are you sure it’s ok for me to…”

Your voice trails off. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help him. You were a healer; on expeditions and other occasions it was your responsibility to heal and tend to others wounds. But this was different -you liked Blade and you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with you healing him. You didn’t want to upset him when he was stable again. Kafka notices your dilemma and shakes her head.

“If there is anyone I can trust Blade with, it’s you. Plus, he would be ok with you.”

That makes your heart flutter but you mentally make yourself shut up and nod. She turns back around and twists the doorknob open, revealing Blade lying on the bed with injuries and hyperventilating. His coat has been discarded on the side of the bed and he lies on the mattress with nothing but poorly wrapped gauze on his upper body. There is a lot of blood splattered all over his limbs but the wound on his chest makes your heart twist; it’s oozing with warm blood and the bandages are unable to stop it.

The injury looks painful. The wound looks like a shattered mirror with lots of little cracks and crevices. You’re so shocked by his state that Kafka has to snap her fingers in front of your face to take you out of your trance. You look at her and then back at him again, wondering how to even explain what you were feeling.

“How did he…?”

“He must have over-pushed himself again. The Xianzhou Luofu reeks of his past and even with the lack of memory, the emotions are still present to induce his mara.”

You cautiously take a step closer to the bed. He’s clearly out of his mind as he keeps mumbling things along the lines of  “you must pay the price” and “my sins are no different than yours traitor”. A part of you is afraid to approach him as you fear he might accidentally hurt you in this state. But the other part of you aches seeing him in so much pain and there is nothing more you wish to do than to soothe his suffering.

“Be careful.”

Kafka warns you and you nod your head while continuing to take closer steps to his bed. There is an aura around him that you cannot discern; it is an uncomfortable feeling of pain and suffocation. By the time you are right by his bedside, the aura only gets stronger and worse. You

can hear him withering in pain from his wounds as sweat rolls down the side of his face. He turns his head left and right continuously as if trying to ease the discomfort. Judging by his half-lidded eyes, it seems he isn’t aware you’re standing next to him.

Immediately you summon your healing power, first creating a shield around yourself to protect you from the aura and any sudden self-defense movements he might do. Then, you lean closer towards his body and place your hands on his chest, removing his bandages carefully to begin healing.

“I’m going to start using the spirit whisperer now. On my count. One, two-“

You zone out the moment she finishes counting and release all the power you have into your hands to heal him. There is a faint yellowish glow over his chest as you hover your hands over the wounds. It takes a considerable amount of power to work on each wound he has, especially the one right in the middle of the chest that hasn’t stopped bleeding. You hear him groan in pain as you work your way through the different injuries continuously.

“I know…I know…”

You whisper soothingly as he seethes and huffs, presumably from the spirit whisperer. For a moment there is silence in the room until suddenly Blade throws his arm towards you, smacking your shield with a loud thud. The unexpected action makes you stumble a little and your healing abilities dispel from the shock.

You look up at Kafka who gives you a concerned look. She had mentioned that she cannot stop her ability halfway through the process and therefore leaving you alone to deal with Blade. You gaze back at Blade who's starting to stir awake and his groans only get worse as consciousness begins to set in.

With a deep breath, you hover your hands over his chest again and resume healing. Unfortunately for you, he tries to hit you again and the thud on your shield makes you flinch. Despite this, you push forward as you grit your teeth and finish healing his main wound.

A surge of pain takes over you as you exhaust yourself in the process of healing him. He’s trying to throw hands at you again, this time more aggressively as if trying to stop you from healing him. However, based on his constant murmuring and the pain laced in his voice, he’s reliving something and is accidentally taking it out on you instead.

At one point you catch his hands as you tightly grip them and hold them in place to stop him from hitting you. His strength is overbearing even during such a state of weakness. He squirms in your grasp, trying to escape but you hold onto him until he finally gives up and loosens his grip.

“Easy there Blade…”

Who knows if he’s actually able to hear you but regardless, you continue to whisper comforting things to him, trying to ease the pain as much as possible. It hurts seeing him in such a frail state, one where you can’t intervene. The mara is a sickness only those inflicted with it can understand and feel and as such, you’re left to watch him from the outside as he fights the battles in his mind.

The last of his wounds are easier to patch up and it should take no time to heal them. But just as you’re about to start healing again he physically stirs and you watch him twist and turn as his eyes flutter open. There is a momentary silence in the room before he shifts his head to look at you and you swear you see hatred in his crimson eyes.

“You traitor..!”

You gulp. He’s still mara-stricken but just awake. You’re unsure if you should say anything as it might make things worse; what if he gets physical with you? Hesitantly you softly reply.

“Blade, it’s me.”

“You…you must pay the price!”

Before you know it he has grabbed onto your arms once again and tries to wrestle you. The sheer force he exerts on you makes you panic as you try to make him let go.

“Blade…!”

You look back at Kafka whose eyes are closed as she continues her part of the job. A chill runs down your spine as you slightly panic, afraid you will be alone in dealing with his sudden change in demeanour. Another burst of light leaves your hands as you form a new shield and wrestle to contain him.

After what feels like forever, the unyielding grip he has on you loosens and he breathes heavily. You watch as he takes large gulps of air and turns his head side to side over and over. A pang of pain hits your chest as you try to ease his discomfort again, healing the last of his wounds while he seems to be calm. 

Silence falls in the room again as you finally finish healing. You take this opportunity to stare at his figure only to notice he has fallen completely silent and looks to be asleep. Confused at his sudden behaviour change, you glance at Kafka again who opens her eyes and looks at you. She gives you a small smile and you immediately understand that she has finished using her spirit whisperer.

“I have suppressed the mara in him. He should be fine now. Thank you for your help.”

Your attention shifts back to Blade, and you gaze at him longingly.

“You’re welcome.”

Kafka nods and smiles at you again.

“I will leave him in your capable hands. I am sure he will need your presence when he wakes up.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that. Yes, you would love to look after him but you were also afraid he wouldn’t be pleased if he saw you. Before you can say anything, Kafka leaves the room and it’s just you and Blade alone together. You haven’t been able to process anything since you arrived. Everything was so chaotic and sudden that only now were you able to think through things. You mentally trace the wounds on his chest, starting from the ones on his shoulder and moving your way down to his abdomen.

The injury on his chest hurts you the most. In your lifetime of getting injured and healing others, you’ve seen it all. You’ve seen flesh burn, knife stabs down to the bone, small scratches; name an injury and you’ve seen it at least once in your lifetime. But his wound was a unique situation. You knew that no matter how much he was stabbed and hurt his flesh would heal over and over on its own. That was the curse of immortality given to him. No matter how grave the injury, it would heal.

That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt right? You couldn’t even fathom the pain he went through everyday, getting hurt in fights and having to come back to his residence to bandage up everything on his own. Each day like clockwork that’s what he probably did, cursing his immortality as he cleaned up his wounds all by himself, all alone.

The image of that brings tears to your eyes as you look at his face. How lonely must it be to live a life like this? To know you could never die, to know that you would have to look after yourself all on your own? Did he ever wish that someone could look after him just once? Or did he think he wasn’t deserving of such love?

Your tears splatter on the bedsheet as you feel an overwhelming amount of sadness from such thoughts. How desperately you wished you could be the woman by his side to assist him in such moments. How desperately you wished that you could love him so dearly that every fibre of his body felt wanted and desired.

It takes you a while to calm down from such depressing thoughts. The tears have dried from your eyes but you continue to sniffle as you grab the bandages and gauze from the first aid kit to bind his wounds. Slowly but gently, you clean up the remaining blood on his body with a clean cloth and sanitise the wounds before sealing the area with the gauze.

You couldn’t help but start tearing up again at the thought of him wrapping the gauze around himself on his own. For how long had he been doing this? How many years? How long and how many injuries must it take for one to become a master at bandaging their wounds?

You cannot contain the tears in your eyes as they accidentally drip onto his abdomen. You attempt to hurriedly wipe your eyes but it’s hard to contain them the more you ponder. What you don’t realise is your sniffling and tears have prompted the man to wake up.

“Urgh….why are you crying…?”

His deep raspy voice makes you jump slightly and you aggressively wipe your tears before smiling at him.

“Goodness, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You reply, completely ignoring his question. You’re aware he’s watching you as you work on his wounds, bandaging him carefully.

“Urgh…!”

“Ah I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

Worried, you lean closer to him and examine his shoulder carefully. You gently press on it to confirm the pain. He groans again and you give him a small smile.

“It’s a bit tender. Try to relax as much as you can.”

Instead of doing that, he catches your hand and looks at you intently. Your heart skips a beat as you make eye contact with him.

“I need to patch up the last injury on your arm Blade.”

“Stay.”

“I am not going anywhere.”

You reassure him and he nods before closing his eyes and exhaling. It takes a little under a minute for you to wrap up his arm injury and you sigh after you’re done. When you observe his body now, you see more bandages and gauze than his skin and the pang in your chest comes back again.

“…would you like some water Blade?”

You quickly ask since you were afraid you would start crying again. He opens his eyes and looks at you blankly before nodding. As he attempts to sit upright you quickly assist him, placing a hand on his back while the other holds his large one. He observes the shakiness in your hand as you pour him a glass of water and bring it to his lips.

“Drink some.”

The gentleness in your voice soothes him in a way he cannot explain. He complies and drinks the entire glass, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Suddenly you feel very embarrassed and attempt to distract yourself but when your gaze lands on the chest wound you can’t help but feel sad again.

When he’s done drinking, you place the glass on the nightstand and sigh.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You softly ask as you help him lie down again. He hums and you take that as a yes. Unable to help yourself, you lean closer towards him and brush stray hairs away from his forehead. The proximity between you both makes your heart race but you fail to notice it as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his scalp. The sensation is calming and he finds himself relaxing under your touch. He watches you closely again, observing the tiny frown on your face and your red puffy eyes while you’re busy playing with his hair. He notes that you look exhausted.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Huh? Oh.”

You plaster a smile on your face. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t need to know what you were feeling. It was embarrassing and you didn’t want to make things awkward between you both.

“Are you- urgh!”

He groans in discomfort while trying to adjust himself. It’s the wound on his chest that seems to be the problem now.

“Easy there.”

You quickly help him out, checking the bandages again and readjusting them. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and you grab a cold compress from the first aid kit to wipe them away. His breathing pattern is inconsistent as he huffs and sighs from the aching of his body. You check his forehead and it feels warm to the touch which makes you frown.

“Blade I think you have a mild fever.”

“It’s the side effect of the mara.”

“You need to take medicine.”

“There is no need.”

“Are you sure?”

You stare at him sadly and he sighs. You continue to wipe the sweat off his face and neck as he takes shallow breaths.

“Did Kafka send you?”

He manages to ask in between the bouts of pain.

“She did.”

He sighs and intently looks at you.

“When the mara strikes you shouldn’t be next to me.”

“She said she could trust only me with you.”

He scoffs.

“Even so.”

Silence fills the air before he continues.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

You jokingly reply only to realise he’s being dead serious when you make eye contact with him.

“I’m ok. I am a healer after all.”

You change the cold compress as you speak and look for a new pack. It is then he notices the slight bruises forming on your arms and the redness around them. Without a word, he grabs your arm and you yelp.

“Hey-?!”

He examines your arms and gazes at you with a look you cannot decipher. You gulp at the intensity of his gaze.

“When exactly did you get here?”

“Blade none of that matters, all that matters is if you’re ok-“

“Did I hurt you?”

You immediately shut your mouth. There are several ways you want to answer the question but nothing comes out.

“I will take that as a yes.”

“Blade please-“

“Why would you risk being around-“

“Because I care for you!”

A sharp exhale leaves your mouth as you realise what you just said. The tears you had been trying to hide so desperately started to flood your eyes again.

“Please. Let it be.”

You whisper slowly while putting away medical supplies. In your peripheral vision, you see him look at you with wide eyes as if unable to understand.

“I am a healer Blade, I will be fine. But I worry for you.”

You gently whisper as you adjust the bedsheets around him and fix his long hair. This time your tears have nowhere to hide as they freely roll down your face. With nothing left to do, you just awkwardly grip the edges of the bedsheet and hang your head low.

“I will give you some space. Rest well.”

The moment you let go of the bedsheet and try to stand up, he immediately clasps your hands tightly and silently demands you to stay.

“Blade?”

“Stay.”

Hesitantly you remain by his bedside and look at him. He doesn’t let go of your hands and continues to peer into your eyes.

“Stay.”

He repeats himself and you sigh.

“Alright.”

He slowly shifts away from you and pats the edge of the bed. Your eyes widen and you look back and forth between him and the bed.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t reply and instead gently drags your hands towards him until you have no choice but to sit on the bed. He then proceeds to look at your arms and then at you again.

“You…the fate of those I know is never a good one.”

You intertwine his fingers with yours and tenderly smile at him.

“That will change with me.”

You watch how his eyes widen momentarily before he turns his head away.

“You have a long life ahead of you, young one. Don’t waste it on me.”

Hearing that makes you frown.

“You’re going to have to find better ways to get rid of me then.”

“Mm.”

Silence falls once again. To your surprise, he doesn’t pull his hands away from yours as you rub circles on it. You note how calloused his hands are and the amount of scars littered on them. There is warmth radiating from his palms and it feels comforting and protective.

“Are your wounds still hurting?”

“No.”

“Good.”

You shift around to get a better look at his face.

“Do you feel at ease now?”

“Mmm.”

“Let me know if you feel any discomfort, okay?”

“You need to be more careful when the mara strikes me.”

“…”

“It is reckless of you to be around me even if you are a healer.”

He then turns his head to get a better look at you.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair again and sadly smile.

“I hate that you have to deal with this alone Blade…”

You mentally yell at how tears have started forming in your eyes again.

“I hate that you suffer on your own while I spend my days in comfort. I hate that you have to bandage and heal yourself every day all alone. I hate that you’ve grown so accustomed to this life that you do not allow yourself to be loved.”

The tears in your eyes fall on him once again and he grips your other hand tightly. There is a confused look on his face, as if he doesn’t understand why would someone care for him and why would someone feel sorry for him.

“Foolish girl. Why are you crying?”

“Because I-“

You choke on your words and attempt to hide your face by hanging your head but fail to do so. He slowly brings his free hand to cup your face and sighs. His palm completely encapsulates your cheek and you subconsciously lean into it.

“My life is cursed to immortality. It is my sin to bear.”

“Still-!”

“Do not cry. This is a daily affair.”

“Doesn’t it hurt Blade? Even if you’re used to it?”

He takes a deep breath and wipes the tears away from your eyes.

“A sin is a sin. Of five people, three must pay the price. I am one of them.”

You sob harder into his hand, unable to stop yourself from feeling this way.

“Just what sin must one commit to suffer such consequences?” He stops wiping your tears and gazes at you momentarily with an indescribable look in his eyes. You can see how there are thousands of thoughts swarming him as he wonders what to reply. Fearing that you might have overstepped his boundaries, you immediately try to change the topic.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just..”

“It is a long story young one. Should you ever have to face the situations I have, do not make the same choices as me.”

“It must be hard to live with such regrets…”

He stares into the distance then hesitantly replies.

“Even if I have regrets, there is no point in pondering about them. There is nothing that can be done.”

“I am sorry…it should be me looking after you, not the other way around…”

You manage to say in between your hiccups. He continues to wipe the tears from your face and gives you a small smile. Seeing him smile makes your heart skip a beat and you can’t help but give him one in return.

“You need to rest.”

“So do you.”

“I am already resting.”

“I can rest later.”

He sighs at your stubbornness. You giggle a little and squeeze his hand, reassuring him you would be fine. A little chit-chat later, Blade falls asleep from your rhythmic playing of his hair while still holding your hand. There is a large silly smile on your face as you look over him lovingly.

Your tears have dried and the aching in your heart has calmed down. In his lifetime, you may not be able to take his curse away but the least you could do was to be by his side in times of need. If the Aeons were kind enough to you, perhaps in the future you could be his woman. There is a strange feeling of determination that burns in your chest as you hold onto his hand tighter and stroke his hair. You silently stare at his peaceful face, mentally tracing his handsome features as he takes slow deep breaths. The thumping of your heart grows louder with each passing second.

I would do anything for you Blade. Anything. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[urdnotstxrm]

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen & Reader

AU: The Targaryen family dynamics are a blend of political intrigue and personal emotions. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the strong-willed and fiery daughter of King Viserys, is caught in a dilemma. Her father has decreed that for her to secure the Iron Throne, she must marry your brother, a match designed to solidify alliances and secure her claim. Despite this, Rhaenyra's heart belongs to you.

Continuation from here

In the guest chamber provided by your family, Rhaenyra paces restlessly. The room, though opulent, feels like a gilded cage. She can still feel the warmth of your embrace, the comfort of your presence, and it contrasts sharply with the cold reality of her situation. Her father’s decree rings in her ears, a constant reminder of the price she must pay for the throne.Rhaenyra sits by the fireplace, staring into the flames, her thoughts consumed by you. She grapples with the unfairness of it all—the love she feels for you versus the duty imposed upon her. She contemplates her options, the rebellious spark within her urging her to defy her father, to claim her own destiny. But the repercussions of such defiance weigh heavily on her mind. She fears the chaos and bloodshed that might ensue if she were to follow her heart. She thinks of you, your noble sacrifice, and it fills her with both admiration and sorrow. She knows the burden you carry, the conflict between your honor and your love for her. She wonders if there is a way to change her father’s mind, to make him see that her happiness lies not in a strategic marriage but in a union of love. As the days pass, Rhaenyra’s resolve hardens. She is a dragon, after all, and dragons are not meant to be caged. She vows to find a way to be with you, no matter the cost. For now, she clings to the hope that love will prevail, even in the face of insurmountable odds.

In the solitude of your chamber, the nights seem longer and the days, more burdensome. You sit by the window, staring out at the moonlit landscape, replaying every moment with Rhaenyra in the stables. Her words, her touch, her desperation—they haunt you. The weight of your responsibilities presses down heavily. You recall your decision to yield your right to leadership, a choice made out of duty and honor, and now it feels like a chain binding you, preventing you from following your heart. You think of your younger brother, his strengths, and the trust you placed in him. You hope he can understand the depth of your sacrifice, even if he never learns the true reason behind it. Your mind drifts to Rhaenyra’s plea, her tear-filled eyes begging for a future you cannot promise. You wonder if there could ever be a way to reconcile duty with desire, a way to find happiness without shattering the delicate balance of your world. The sound of the festivities from the great hall below echoes faintly in your chamber, a reminder of the life you are expected to lead. But your heart remains in the stables, with Rhaenyra, in that fleeting moment of shared love and sorrow.

The night was quiet and cool, the moon casting a soft, silvery light over the landscape. Unable to sleep, you stared out of your window, thoughts of Rhaenyra filling your mind. Suddenly, you noticed a solitary figure slipping out of the house and making their way towards the river. It was Rhaenyra. Curiosity and concern took hold of you, and you quickly decided to follow her at a safe distance. You moved silently, making sure not to alert her of your presence. Rhaenyra walked with purpose, her cloak billowing slightly in the gentle breeze. She reached the riverbank and paused, glancing around to ensure she was alone. Satisfied, she stepped into the water, the moonlight reflecting off the rippling surface. You remained hidden, watching her from the shadows. She waded deeper into the lake, the water lapping around her, a serene look on her face as she sought solace in the cool embrace of the water. Your heart ached with longing, knowing she was so close yet unreachable.

As you watched from the shadows, the night air seemed to grow thicker, more charged. The sight of Rhaenyra's clothes being shed before she stepped into the lake played over and over in your mind, each piece of fabric falling away revealing her form. Your heart pounded harder, the quiet stillness of the night doing nothing to quiet the thoughts invading your mind. You tried to focus on her safety, on the purity of your concern for her well-being, but it was impossible to ignore the stirring of desire within you. The moonlight accentuated her every movement, casting a soft glow on her bare skin as she moved through the water. You imagined the feel of that skin, smooth and warm under your fingertips, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. The ache of longing mixed with a deeper, more primal desire. You found yourself gripping the edge of the tree you were hiding behind, trying to ground yourself, but your mind was filled with images of her—her body, her touch, her breathless whispers in the dark.

As you watched Rhaenyra in the moonlit water, your thoughts shifted from longing to a burning sense of injustice. The idea of your brother, destined to have her, filled you with a rage that was difficult to contain. He would be the one to hold her, to be by her side, to share her life in ways you could only dream of. The thought of him touching her, loving her, and claiming her as his own made your blood boil. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to maintain your composure. It felt profoundly unfair that duty and circumstance had placed your brother in a position to be with the woman you loved. Every fiber of your being rebelled against the idea, and the jealousy and anger gnawed at your resolve. Rhaenyra, oblivious to your inner turmoil, continued to move gracefully in the water, a picture of serenity that only intensified your anguish. You wanted to be the one beside her, to be the one she turned to, the one she loved openly and freely. The knowledge that you could not change your fate or hers filled you with a helpless fury.

As you watched Rhaenyra, the vision of her in the moonlit water became too much to bear. Despite your efforts to stay composed, your body betrayed you. You felt the growing hardness in your trousers, a physical manifestation of the desire that had been gnawing at you. You glanced around once more to ensure you were alone, and your hand drifted down almost of its own accord, coming to rest on your erection. The sensation was immediate and intense, and you rubbed slowly, your mind flooded with sinful thoughts of what it would be like to touch her, to feel her skin against yours. Every movement of her body in the water fueled your fantasies. You imagined her turning towards you, inviting you to join her, her lips whispering your name with desire. The thought of her hands on you, her body pressed against yours, drove you to rub yourself harder, the pleasure and the torment of it mingling in an almost unbearable way.

Each stroke brought you closer to the edge, and you had to bite your lip to stifle a groan. The need for her was overwhelming, a burning ache that seemed to consume every part of you. You knew it was wrong, that your thoughts were a betrayal of your duty and your honor, but in that moment, all you could think about was Rhaenyra and the forbidden desire that she ignited within you. Your hand moved faster, driven by the images in your mind, the sight of her bare skin, the imagined feel of her under your touch. The tension built and built, your breathing growing ragged as you approached the brink. Finally, with a stifled gasp, you reached your climax, your body shuddering with the release. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you were left with a profound sense of guilt and longing. The night air felt colder against your skin, and the reality of your situation came crashing back. Rhaenyra was still there, just out of reach, and you were once again left with nothing but your unfulfilled desire and the painful knowledge that she could never truly be yours.

[animanga-bonanza]

The Magneto/Rogue/Gambit love triangle is great not only because of how #telenovela it is, but because it puts Rogue into a dilemma that forces her to make character-defining choices and grow as a person. It’s classic Want vs Need. Rogue wants physical intimacy, mistakenly believing that it is necessary for love, but needs to realize that real love is so much more than that. “Some things are deeper than skin.”

This is an example of how to do a romantic subplot that serves the narrative and character development. Plus, the chemistry that Rogue has with both Magneto and Gambit feels natural instead of forced (seriously idk how they managed to make Magneto x Rogue genuinely hot).

I know a lot of folks like to argue about the morality of the situation and make it all about Gambit and his hurt feelings, but I find that to be a boring way of looking at it. This subplot isn’t about a man getting his heart broken, it’s about a woman learning about love for the first time.

We gotta remember that Rogue is incredibly inexperienced when it comes to love, and the little experience she does have is colored by pain and regret. The first time she kissed her first boyfriend, her powers almost killed him. That obviously traumatized her. Then she met Magneto, the only person she could safely touch* and explore her sexuality with, but that relationship was never going to pan out for obvious reasons. After that, she was afraid of getting romantically involved with anyone.

Rogue and Gambit maintained a casual flirtation with undercurrents of real passion and yearning for a deeper relationship, but Rogue understandably kept him at a distance — she couldn’t forgive herself if she hurt him. Gambit respected this, and for his part, was afraid of getting into a serious relationship because he felt that he was unworthy.

Magneto is the catalyst who forces Gambit and Rogue to do some necessary introspection and be honest about their feelings, instead of playing this endless game of “will they or won’t they.” For Gambit and Rogue to build something real together, they need to step out of their performative roles as Scoundrel and Cher. Of course it’s messy, and dramatic, and confusing, and frustrating, and heartbreaking. But that’s love. “There is no love without sin.”

In fairness to all three of them, I think they handled the situation as maturely as they could, with honest communication about what they wanted. There’s no deception or manipulation here, just three people trying to navigate a messy and emotionally-charged entanglement.

As for Magneto, I think he genuinely cares for Rogue and loves her in his own way. But I feel like he’s using her to fill the void left in his heart by Charles. I don’t think he’s secretly “evil” or anything like that — but Gambit is right to be skeptical of his motives.

Overall, once Magneto and Gambit come back (AND THEY BETTER COME BACK OR ISTG MARVEL — ), they’ll get necessary closure, and Rogue and Gambit will offically become the power couple they were always meant to be.

*I’ve seen people wonder why Rogue doesn’t wear one of the mutant suppression collars so she can safely touch Gambit. Idk how the comics deal with that issue and I don’t remember if the original 90s cartoon did, but the way I see it, it’s not just about the physical act of touching. It’s about intimacy. Being able to be your full, truest self with another person. Having to wear a collar that was made to oppress your people in order to experience a basic human pleasure would be degrading and take away from that intimacy.

[thedaythatwas]

not a hot take, but I'll say it again: there is literally no way that akechi liking philosophy was part of the detective prince front. this is a man who genuinely enjoys thinking through ethical dilemmas. like, he confirms it in royal, when you're at the jazz club together third semester:

(and yes, in third semester akechi-speak, this is him saying he enjoys it!)

I'm going to ramble on, so I'll insert a page break here real quick.

even if it wasn’t confirmed for us in canon, liking philosophy just fits with akechi's characterization. akechi's referenced hobbies are all activities he can do alone: darts, billiards, bouldering, cycling. sure, everything I listed is much more fun with a partner– enter akiren– but that's literally the narrative role akiren plays in akechi's story! akiren drives home for akechi that more can be accomplished when you learn to rely on others. this applies to talking philosophy. especially so, actually.

I think enjoying it serves a dual purpose for akechi.

one: being able to throw out philosophers' names is undeniably something you can use as social clout, and I know that akechi is well aware of that. he likes being pretentious. yes, it's to uphold the prince image for the sake of his revenge plot, but he also does it for himself, because of his past experiences as a so-called undesirable child. image, including appearing to be well-educated, is important to him for a number of reasons.

two: thinking is something that can fill his time spent alone. as someone who's been so profoundly wronged by the system– and gone on to do objectively harmful things within it himself– he's got plenty of life experience to fuel his pondering. you can bet it's all pretty angry and jaded. nobody said thinking about ethics makes you feel good.

and sure, you can weigh the merits of utilitarianism alone. you can think all you want about what "justice" and "free will" are by yourself. but it's much more fun to talk about with someone else, if that's what you're into (and akechi is).

I don't think it's a stretch to say that akiren's willingness to talk philosophy with akechi is one of the reasons he finds himself sucked into the revenge-scheme-threatening shitshow that is their rivalry. it's easy to say that their "discussions" are a front akechi uses to get closer to akiren, and really, they probably started out that way. but akechi soon finds that akiren really is an enigma– his constant praise of akiren isn't empty. akiren is self-assured, he pushes akechi, and akechi finds himself pulled into their banter like a moth to flame. if akiren couldn't pique akechi's interest, I think akechi could have maintained much more emotional distance from his would-be target.

all this to say, akechi genuinely being a pretentious nerd makes his relationship with akiren make ten times more sense. if akiren couldn't keep up with him, I think their story (or at least, how akechi experienced it emotionally) would have gone much differently.

[koolades-world]

one of my besties had me watch the madison beer mv of make you mine and it's actually such a good song. i love that the entire thing is jennifer's body themed. you know it's bad when i think of fictional characters while i listen to the song haha. sorry if mephi's dialogue seems a little ooc, not super familiar with his speech patterns yet

i'm really bad at giving things titles as you can see haha. highly recommend giving it a listen or listening while you read this <3

also i just learnt mephisto has an undercut? it's actually black so is purple not his natural hair color? he'd look really pretty with black hair but part of me wonders if he dyed it purple to look different from lucifer

anyways sorry this is so late! got busy hanging out with friends and the thing i had originally wanted to post wasn't ready, and i just really wanted to post this haha. enjoy :)

make u mine (mephisto x reader)

Mephisto had never meant to end up in such a compromising situation with the human exchange student, of all people. Not that it being anyone else would have made it better, but at least You looked absolutely ravishing in your party wear, and despite everything in him telling him to look away, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you. Had you placed a spell on him?

It all started with a few words overheard in a conversation between Diavolo and Lucifer. Of course, he hadn't meant to overhear what they were saying on purpose. He could thank the journalist inside him unconsciously picking up on many side conversations at the same time, and that one in particular happened to catch his interest. Listening to Mammon and Asmo talk about the latest party they were going to could wait. His attention was fully captured when he heard the phrase "exchange program." That phrase always meant a scoop was just around the bend.

He had no clue that this "scoop" would slowly consume every waking moment he occupied.

Once the time came that for the program to start, he didn't expect to be greeted with two very different humans. One was a powerful sorcerer he knew rather well, from a distance of course, and the other was a seeming nobody. He thought it was odd, but he wanted to interview you nonetheless to get your thoughts on the program. He was interested in learning about you. It started as the beginnings of an article he knew would perform well, and morphed into personal curiosity.

Getting you alone proved difficult. One of those pesky brothers was always with you, and they seemed very insistent on keeping you two apart. They must've received some kind of instruction from Lucifer, as even Satan seemed intent on staying between the two of you. He had been sitting the the RAD newspaper room, alone, pondering over this exact dilemma, when his problem resolved itself when you came barreling the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"Hey." You were out of breath. Your hair was a mess and a half smile on your face. Your back was pressed to the door. The moment he made eye contact with you was a moment he couldn't quite put words to, despite being excellent at that. He found it hard to look away from you.

He was speechless at first at the crazy coincidence, as if his thoughts had summoned you. "Ehem. How may I help you?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"Will you do me a tinsy little favor and hide me? Pretty please?" The way you batted your eyelashes at him made his heart immediately cave to your demands, but he knew he had a reputation to uphold.

"Will you agree to do an interview with me if I do?" He spun the question around on you. He had wanted to ask anyways. He wasn't one to pass up an opportunity presented to him on a silver platter.

"Deal. Quick, Lucifer probably wasn't far behind me." You rushed towards him, taking his hand. This shook him for the second time in less than a minute. Hurriedly, he shoved you behind the printing press that occupied one side of the room and turned it on to cover up any noise you might make. No sooner than he had done this, Lucifer threw the door open.

"Didn't you hear me knocking?" The demon looked just out of sort as you had, but angry rather than amused like you were. He hadn't seen anyone get such a rise out of Lucifer in a while. He was interested in hearing your story. Lucifer's eyes scanned the room in search of you, but only grew more irate upon finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"No. I'm busy." Mephisto turned his back to Lucifer to conceal his growing grin.

"Mc isn't in here, are they?" Lucifer remained in the doorway.

"What do you think? This a writing sanctuary, not a daycare." Mephisto picked up one of the papers printed, pretending to look busy. Lucifer huffed, annoyed.

"Watch yourself, cocky journalist." With that, Lucifer spun around and left the room. He left the door slightly ajar, making Mephisto the most annoyed he'd been during that entire interaction. After pushing the door shut, he called out to you.

"He's gone. You have quite the story to tell, hmm?" He grabbed his notepad and pen, beckoning you to take a seat on the couch beside him.

"Turn off the noisemaker, then we can talk." You sat beside him after coming out of hiding. With a playful sigh, he got back up to shut it off so he could really begin to talk to you.

That was his first real conversation with you without one of the brothers present, and he suddenly understood their desire to keep you to themselves. Thankfully, after that day, he had his foot in the door and you were more than happy to speak to him despite the brother's protests. The scowl on Lucifer's face from over your shoulder as you happily chatted with him was worth the world to him because Mephisto knew that Lucifer wouldn't try anything; not with you with your hands all over him, anyways. He adored being the center of your attention despite the fact that several brothers were watching closely. You often slipped away from the brothers and escaped to the room you knew he'd be in. He didn't know if what you were doing was intentional or not, but he began to grow conditioned to seeing you laid out on the plush sofa by his desk, or parked on the desk itself, waiting for him with a smile and open arms. It got to the point where he was certain he saw more of you that any of the brothers did.

He was unsure about how to feel, but he welcomed you into his life readily. It became more than just being with you to make Lucifer mad. It became being with you just to be with you, because he enjoyed your company. However, he always felt as if he left something to be desired when he thought about you. You always left his heart aflutter with your touches, even though he wanted to assume it was just how you behaved normally.

A hand on his shoulder, a hand on his arm, a hand on his. Sometimes, a hand on his waist, fingers looped through his belt loops. A hand on his chest, playing with his tie. A hand on his face, thumbs gliding over his cheeks. A hand on his thigh, hidden under the table.

They all drove him insane.

It was then he realized he harbored some sort of feelings for the human who'd initially started as just the topic of an article he was writing. He craved your attention and wanted to be as close to you as possible. He knew that went past what he'd initially thought about himself. While you were simply a human, you were a human who'd managed to capture the affections of the seven demon lords, and beyond.

A party at his place was what finally unraveled everything. Despite it being his party and therefore, the center of attention, he was only interested in one person. He knew you'd gotten ready in his bedroom as an effort to prevent the brothers from stopping you from going. They, of course, weren't invited, but he wouldn't be surprised if they showed up always once they realized where you were. He knew at this point, he should just give you your own room. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it. He had many empty bedrooms and could easily make one into yours, but he loved sharing his space with you. Something inside him loved seeing your things intermingled with his, and he didn't want to part with that.

But, he hadn't seen you since he went downstairs to begin greeting guests. His eyes scanned the room, searching for you. He thought he saw the flash of a familiar blond head of hair, but he swept past that. His gaze soon settled on the person he was looking for: you. You were chatting with another guest, but as soon as you noticed his stare, you excused yourself from the conversation to make your way over to him. He began to think about you, and how much happier he'd be once you were by his side. He greeted you enthusatically and told you how amazing you looked. You naturally slotted into his side, hands on his shoulders.

In his haze, he failed to notice someone behind him. They bumped into him, causing him to spill his drink all over you. He quickly turned to reprimand them, and to catch their face, but they had vanished into the crowd before he could. Mephisto clenched his fists, but there was nothing he could do. The perpetrator had been swallowed by the evermoving crowd of people. Instead, he went back to you, and decided to help you get cleaned up. You seemed nonchalant about the entire situation, and were happy holding his hand as he dragged you up the stairs to his room.

"Mephi, there's no need to be so worked up. It's a simple fix. If the stain doesn't come out, it was only twenty bucks anways." You kept pace with him.

"It's a matter of dignity. Whoever that was embarrassed me, and now I look like a total moron." He couldn't look at you. His face was most certainly red.

"Not to me you don't." Those words quelled the inner calamity he had a little.

"Well, either way, the stain will set in if we don't do something about it now." He pulled you into his room and locked the door behind you. The last thing he wanted was some nosy demon wandering in after the two of you. If you didn't care what they thought, why should he? But, he didn't want his time with you to be interrupted.

He peered into his closet for something for you to wear. Usually, you had clothes here, hung up, something he was rather proud of, but everything but a couple R.A.D. uniforms were gone. Earlier that day, he'd instructed his staff to wash all your laundry, clean or not, with a new detergent that the both of you quickly fell in love with at the store. It had become both of yours, in a way, and he went feral over the idea of the brothers constantly being reminded of him even when he wasn't around through you.

"Do you want to go back to the party?" He leant out of his closet to yell to you.

"Depends. Anyone important down there?" You responded through the shut bathroom door.

"Not really. Lord Diavolo couldn't make it tonight." He already knew what you were going to say in responce.

"Then we can just get ready for bed. My RAD bag is in here somewhere, so I don't technically have to go home. If you'll let me stay, that is." He heard you laugh through the door. He chortled to himself at that too. You didn't even need to ask anymore. You slept in his bed with him, for crying out loud. You even had your own D.D.D. charger for his house at his side table, right next to his.

"Are you alright with wearing my pajamas to bed? Yours are in the wash." He riffled through his wardrobe to find a very nice pair for you. He eventually settled on one of his sets of black silk pajamas. He wasn't sure if the pants would fit you, but at least you'd have a shirt.

"You know me." You extended your hand through the cracked bathroom door, to which he tossed the clothes into your open hand. You caught them, and snapped the door shut again to put them on. "Mephi, the pants are a little big." He heard you say through the door. Just as he thought. He'd never actually seen you in a set of his clothes before, so he silently prepared himself to feast his eyes. Despite this, he was not ready for you when you stepped in from the bathroom. The blank pants were draped over your arms, and the black button up top fell to your mid thigh. "Just hang these back up. No use in trying that." You put them back into his hands, and threw yourself down onto his bed. He did as you asked, and sat next to you.

"Are your other clothes still in the bathroom?" He studied your side profile.

"Yeah, on the counter." You answered his questions.

"I'll be right back. I'll give those to one of my staff, who'll get the stain out and get it looking brand new." He moved to get back up, but was stopped by your hand reaching out to him.

"Not yet. Let me enjoy a little time with you first." You whined. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'll be quick." He moved to get up again, but this time, you got up before him and pushed him back down onto the bed. You straddled him, hands on both of his shoulders, pressing him into his bed.

"You've got no choice now." You triumphally smirked down at him. He knew he could easily get up, but he knew he wouldn't. You knew that too.

"Mc..." He was rather amused, but he couldn't stop from thinking about his feelings for you. Most of his confidence went out the window with that thought.

"I win." With that, you draped yourself over him fully, and Mephisto basked in your attention. As he thought more, while he really didn't want to, his heart told him now would be a great time to tell you how he felt. With the thought of now or never echoing in his brain, he opened his mouth again.

"Mc, I have a confession." He was nervous, more than he'd ever been. But, he was too deep in now to back out.

"Hmm?" You didn't sit up, and remained with your head on his chest.

"I think I'm in love with you." For someone usually so eloquent with his words, these were raw. Thankfully, they seemed to strike a chord with you. You perked up. He studied your face closely for any sort of negative reaction, but none came.

"Can I kiss you?" He was almost stunned by your reciprocation. He wasn't quite sure exactly how you felt yet, but that could wait until after his kiss.

"You may." Spilling that drink on you may have been the second best choice he ever made, the first being deciding to write about you to begin with. He was one lucky demon.

(end was a little rushed cause i'm sleepy haha)

[patroxlos]

in another ask u said that reader feeds into his insecurities and worsens his abandonment issues could u explain it more? also loved how we got to know reader more in the last chapter it helps build character and made me think abt how much deep the reveal is gonna be (angst coming? 👀). tnks for the food💕

the angst will be coming! and they will be miscommunicating so much more than they are right now! im excited because ch8 is significant to establish the reader's motive >:) but to answer your question...

SUMMARY:

all will be revealed as the story progresses >:) i was intentionally vague in that ask because it hasnt been revealed in the story yet what caused you two to fall nearly out years ago, but that said im a yapper HAHAHA

your role as his childhood friend is significant bc u are tied to his past in japan, a place and culture he has very conflicting feelings about

he thinks you don't need him in your life esp because you're so confusing and indecisive about what you want from him

you both were very toxic for eo during your situationship.

If you want to see me yap about Kenji's abandonment and attachment issues, keep reading.

There is narrative purpose as to why I figured a childhood friend would fit in well with Ultraman: Rising's plot in itself

the movie is very family-centric, and a lot of how kenji achieves peace with himself in the film is by reconnecting with the past, be it his family or the culture he left behind

while i figured that it would be fun to write a reluctant team-up to lovers, bc ill be able to play around w kenji's personality pre-Emi, i also didnt see the place of a romance forming while he's struggling being a single mom

but i also wanted the story to take place during the movie's run bc i wanted to include Emi since she plays a big part in us learning who Ken is, so writing a fic that starts after the film didnt feel in the cards for me

since kenji grows as a person by the end of the film through making peace with his conflicting identities and his tumultuous past, i thought having a childhood best friend would make sense since i dont think he has the space to introduce anyone new in his life

bc reader is a childhood friend who he is meant to be close to, i cant write kenji interacting with reader the same way he is at the start of the film because there is a familiarity that breaks down his walls— which caused me to have a dilemma about how to characterize him

it also made me a bit sad that i cant write full-on ken sato the "egomaniac" bc i think thatll be fun since he's such a boyfailure

but that means that we see a softer ken when he interacts with reader, someone who is a bit more vulnerable with showing that he strives for further connections in his life even if he wants to look like he can do it all by himself

Kenji feels alone and disconnected from everyone, including you

it's also clear to the audience that kenji doesnt have any friends, and anyone he's friendly with is probably friends with him on a surface level. Ami states in their first interview that he is known as someone who keeps others at a distance, and who is untouchable

the team behind Ultraman: Rising did state that there is a deleted scene where he is clubbing, which is meant to show that he feels alone even in a sea of bodies. and his dad in the movie isnt surprised that he is throwing parties at his house, so it just clues us in that he probably lived life with very shallow connections and has filled his time with materialistic pursuits (e.g. his car collection...what he need a mclaren for)

i decided to make the reader someone from the 1% for two reasons: first being so that i can explain why her and kenji meet up over the years (i see a lot of friends who migrated to north america only once a year and we're still close!), and second, because i wanted you to be on the same playing field if not higher playing field than him.

Ken puts up the front that he doesn't need anyone else, but he is insecure about how he thinks you don't need him.

bc u have ur own things going on!! u have ur own friends

what makes it worse is that u genuinely think that kenji is the same. u think that since he's very successful, he would have his own thing

i havent touched up on it much yet, but it's very evident to kenji that you will readily pick yourself over him, which isn't a bad thing but it reminds him when his dad picked Ultraman over keeping his family together

ken feels like he can never be anyone's first choice or priority, and your situationship messes this up further

I haven't touched much on what happened between them yet in the story because it's building up to it, but

it soon feels for ken that youre only seeking him out on convenience. that he doesnt matter to you beyond what his body can do for you

bc spoiler: you are the villain in the situationship! you're the one who insists that everything is casual yet you keep the line blurry

^ karma is gonna get to u soon in the main storyline ure gonna be dry heaving when u realize u actually do want something with him

your constant back and forth with him will be revealed in the flashbacks... you not wanting more than a casual relationship yet youre talking abt what it would be like if you two got married???

Spoiler but during the situationship years, you're also the first one to say "I Love You" ROMANTICALLY yet youll later on backtrack and say that you didnt mean it in that way

can you blame him for getting confused and insecure about where you stand and whether or not he actually matters to anyone.

it doesnt help that his presence in your life is actively harming your reputation and career.

in ch8, it's briefly mentioned that ur media hate train is caused by ppl who are paying for bad press abt u starting from when you were 18. if you remember ch3-4, kenji freaks out abt a new article abt u two, and ch6 he was conscious of what others were saying.

one thing i want to elaborate in a separate post is that ken is AVOIDANT ATTACHMENT and reader is written to have DISORGANIZED ATTACHMENT.

Even if Kenji is avoidant due to his trauma of abandonment (e.g. self-reliant, avoids social connections), he can't help but yearn to be with you

so it's so confusing to him bc with everyone else, he would want to leave first. and he's close to leaving you so many times

yet you keep making these promises, saying sweet things about how much you need him, that he cant help but get roped into it a bit

When he is younger, he's fully aware that it is not a healthy mindset, but even if you're just using him at least it means that he still gets to be in your life. It makes him feel needed.

in the present timeline, sometimes those thoughts definitely cross his mind but at present he is focusing on maintaining the boundary you guys set about strictly being friends

So far I hope you caught in the story [as of ch8] from the subtext or dialogue that

in the present timeline, you are both 26 years old

the situationship started when you were 16 and lasted until you were 23

bc ure both high profile starting when you were 18, and u both publicly seem a lot closer than what ure claiming to be, it is well-documented that you two kind of go back and forth with each other (think justin and selena/shawn mendes and camila cabello)

(a new photo recently surfaced of shawn and camila together at Copa América and ppl were kind of confused as to whether or not they got back together again after breaking up for like the fourth time and i was like omg... home base core...)

when you both were 23, three years ago, you two had a really bad falling out caused by your previous situationship

it caused you officially end it for good, and while you maintained your friendship for those three years you weren't able to properly see each other face to face (partly. bc covid is canon in the fic HAHAHA but i havent talked abt it)

yall dont know how to act around eo anymore like why a little eye contact making u nervous .... yall had ur privates in eo's mouths (kenji munch next chapter soon promise hihi)...

since it is revealed that a large part of the hate train against you is paid for by people who want you out of power, kenji as much as possible wants to avoid being seen as more than friends with you atm bc he's worried it will derail your career

SORRY if it felt like I didn't say anything at all since I don't want to reveal too much at this stage lmao but I can do my best to elaborate on any points of interest!

[doodle-pops]

Meeting and Befriending Vampire Reader

A/N: Felt like writing something different for a change. Possibly my start of dipping my toes in the supernatural AU?? And I blame @animatorweirdo, in a good way, for feeding me with their creativity when it comes to their supernatural content *le chef kiss* 🤌

Warnings: (it’s all lightly described) blood-drinking, mentions of being experimented on, lots of comfort, being rescued, happy endings for everyone, platonic relationships

➷ ⋆Feanor

➳❥ So, hypothetically speaking, Feanor does not die the minute he sets foot into Middle Earth and survives all the way through to meet you; an escapee from Angband during the first attack he launched. You stumbled your way a good distance from them, however, seeing that they were newly settling down, you blended in.

➳❥ Having dwelt among them for some time and forcing yourself to suffer cruel punishments of changing your appetite to not be caught and persecuted, you managed to become one of the local elves for years. Chatting and conversing with everyone and working as a healer during the night shifts only (because blood was easier to consume that way).

➳❥ How Feanor stumbled upon you, well it all started with you and Feanor becoming friends from all his late–night trips to the healing wing whenever he injured himself. It developed into a friendship, as he would only demand you treat his wounds. Plus, you never appeared bored or irritated when he prattled your head off about inventing things to blow other things up or reinventing.

➳❥ Somewhere along the lines, conversations always sparked each other’s interest, since he became persistent on spending more time with you due to your knowledge and peculiarities, mostly during the day since he worked at night. Of course, you reject his offer even though you could offer an evening/night session, but preferred the simple friendship you two already had without getting into each other’s personal space.

➳❥ Through constant rejection, which doesn’t sit well with Feanor’s pride, one day he decides to seek you out. Directly heading for the healing wing and learning of the location, he sets out to your house to demand an honest answer, only to discover once he arrives, your house is locked up like a prison cell.

➳❥ Knocking does nothing to bring him a response and your neighbours can’t deliver a suitable response because they never see you during the day, only at night. This doesn’t sit well with Feanor and being the adamant individual he was, he chose to sit guard outside your house until you either came out or showed up.

➳❥ You, on the other hand, were aware of his presence outside your house. It placed you in a dilemma, unsure of whether to walk out and confront him or spend another day indoors, surely he’ll grow tired and defeated. The furthest option he took was begging to at least speak with you to know where your relationship with him sat.

➳❥ Hearing his sorrowful plead, guilt eating at you, there was a split moment where you hesitated before cracking the door open to welcome him in. It was approaching daylight since he waited all night. The minute he entered your house and saw the pitch–black condition, he knew something was wrong with you.

➳❥ A sharp Kingly tone would be spat out, which would make you curl in at the disappointment you were setting yourself up for. At the time, there wasn’t anything suitable enough to spare you from his frustration. So, a quick mumble of you begging him to listen to your story and not judge you would be exchanged.

➳❥ The moment you revealed the truth, you could see his face through the darkness and how his eyes widened as he placed multiple scenarios together to believe you. Feanor doesn’t know how to respond because you never had intentions to hurt him, yet your truth was kept hidden when the enemy was looming about.

➳❥ Millions of questions would realistically fly off the handle wanting to know if you were working for the Dark Lord, and he sent you to spy on him. Of course, not appreciating the comparison to your enemy, you angrily put his claims down, explaining that you were one of the first elves who were hunted and experimented on. His war with the Dark Lord bought you freedom.

➳❥ Feanor doesn’t know where his relationship with you now stands with this new piece of information, however, he makes the most of it by keeping you under lock and key (not literally). He wants to know everything you know and it’s how you prove yourself trustworthy in his eyes when your information aids him in winning another war.

➳❥ Because of your supernatural abilities, he’s baffled by your strength, speed and agility. Heck, he doesn’t need to go through the stress of bending iron when you exist. You are still a part of his Kingdom, and he allows you to continue living as you do but ensure not to kill or harm anyone.

➳❥ He was very grossed out about your blood consumption to survive, yet he was curious to understand how it worked in sustaining your mobility and essence. There were moments he tried experimenting to create other alternatives for you to consume, let’s say it didn’t work.

➳❥ Because there were minimal differences between elf and vampire (minus sunlight and food; and Feanor did make a daylight ring) he was able to overcome the boundaries and maintain a healthy relationship. So long as you didn’t pose as a threat, all was well between you and Feanor.

➷ ⋆Fingolfin

➳❥ Meeting you for the first time would be entirely accidental, perhaps on a walk through the forest to clear his head when he stumbled upon your absolutely still figure, perched on a tree branch.

➳❥ Because there’s no one else in the forest and no settlement for miles, furthermore, given your attire, you must have been from the same Kingdom or his son’s, he would still make his presence known to you before continuing his walk because it was a polite thing to do.

➳❥ It’s when you turn to acknowledge the male figure introducing himself and calling out to you, that he catches a glimpse of your unusual eye colour and stills. You’re aware that he’s aware you’re different from other elves.

➳❥ Fingolfin would have easily picked up on your fëa and hrӧa differing from an elf and would immediately inquire about your identity since he considers you trespassing. His approach would be commanding, using his Kingly aura to have you submit and give in to his wishes.

➳❥ But since you’re not the same as the others who use their abilities for harmful intentions, you’d roll your eyes and casually reveal your name and where you were from before turning around to continue your staring off into God knows where.

➳❥ Not pleased with your curt answer, despite giving him the information he demanded to know, he’d attempt to encroach your tranquillity with more questions on what creature you were.

➳❥ That’s where things take a turn because you’re aware of vampires being destructive and evil forces of nature, so you’re hesitant and cautious the moment you reveal your true nature. However, it’s your lack of aggression and awareness to his astonishment that urges him to continue prodding.

➳❥ You were tempted to snap at his intrusiveness, yet still, you didn’t, keeping in mind that your kind was already a plague to elves. So you needed to keep a level–head for as long as you could before being on your merry way. Unfortunately for you, Fingolfin wasn’t allowing you to disappear anytime soon; not when questions existed.

➳❥ “How are you not evil? Are you evil? Have you ever been? Were you created by the Dark Lord? What do you know of him? Have you come to spy?�� His questions to you were generic which gave eye rolls at every one directed at you.

➳❥ Long story short, Fingolfin and you got off on a semi–tranquil and annoying meet but were eventually able to smooth things over after he asked you a million questions and you answered every one as nonchalantly as possible.

➳❥ He keeps you a secret from the rest of the world; your existence is kept by him alone. Through you, he learns secrets about the world he had yet to discover and values your insight on deep philosophical topics. Long, late–night conversations from twilight to daybreak.

➳❥ There are rare days when you would randomly appear on the balcony of his office, mostly during the night, to spend time chatting. He learnt that it was a myth that vampires burnt in sunlight, it was just that you were irritated by it and also didn’t wish to be seen during daylight with your features.

➳❥ What blossomed between you two was an unusual friendship. In the beginning, he was sceptical about having you around more frequently and roaming his lands since you fed off blood—you never gave him details about your hunting activities; however, you reassured him no people were harmed or killed.

➳❥ Sometimes, you provide him assistance given your dislike for the Dark Lord by slipping in and out the cracks of his fortress unseen to spy. He forever warns you about being cautious because he fears that one day, you might never return.

➳❥ You do enjoy scaring the life out of him whenever he steps into the forest in search of your location. Popping out from behind trees or walking behind him the entire time and pretending to be the wind.

➳❥ He once saw you angry and regretted the first time you met because of what could have possibly happened to him.

➷ ⋆Finarfin

➳❥ First time trip to Middle Earth and he came across you during the raiding of Angband. You were trapped in the prison cells in the depths of the mountain along with other foul creatures. To Finarfin’s surprise, he was confused as to why would a normal–looking elf be stuck alongside all those dangerous creatures.

➳❥ Nevertheless, he retrieved and returned you back to his encampment where you were being treated for your wounds. However, due to your lack of hunger and being surrounded by literal food, the healer doesn’t get the chance to properly assess your injuries, because you lunged at one of them for dinner.

➳❥ With the uproar, Finarfin is summoned to the tent where blood is spilt everywhere and a rampant you is being restrained by his best men. However, pity played a great part in his heart when he looked upon your face and saw tears streaming from your eyes. His first thought was literally, “Why would you shed tears for your wrong?”

➳❥ Still cautious of your activities, he’d have you secured aside from everyone and closer to his tent for observations even though his men advised against the idea, wanting to exterminate you immediately. But Finarfin was someone who preferred to be the judge of his own actions.

➳❥ The minute he visited you after your re–captivity, he felt a twinge of sympathy for putting you into chains after you recently came out of them. At first, you were uncooperative due to having a lack of blood in your system, and since he didn’t have any lying about or was going to offer his or his people, he gave orders to the hunters to save the animal blood and deliver it to his tent.

➳❥ You were fussy because the blood of people was tastier than animals, but it was still worth a shot because you were hungry as hell after being chained up and experimented on for years. After stomaching the repulsive blood, you were able to talk, and he learned of how you were once an elf taken from your home and turned into a vampire.

➳❥ The experiments weren’t a complete success since you couldn’t take sunlight, fly or transform. You were able to stay in your elven form while having the basic traits of a vampire. This Finarfin pitied and felt the need to protect and keep you safe.

➳❥ Promising that he would look after you if you promised to control yourself, he had taken you to Valinor and placed you within the Valar care to see how much they could undo the mad scientist’s experimentation. Unfortunately, you were permanently stuck that way until the end of time.

➳❥ Because you had Finarfin at your side who genuinely cared for your existence, he became a familiar face in your life during your healing and learning to control your thirst sessions. You accidentally messed up a few times and attacked because 1) you were being pushed too far, and 2) he had smelt too good.

➳❥ During that moment, it caused a dramatic change in your relationship. Finarfin was slightly terrified when he realised that he was entirely powerless against your strength, even when weakened and found the idea of you feeding from him exhilarating.

➳❥ He didn’t know how to approach you with the latter when he was slightly terrified of your strength and unsure about whether or not he could pull you off him should you be unable to stop. Even so, you had distanced yourself from him after the incident, ashamed of your actions.

➳❥ With some convincing, the best solution was to have you break into the habit of sampling his blood indirectly from the vein, meaning, in a glass. He was amazed at how easily you just drank his blood without a hint of disgust. This would continue over a duration while you consumed animal blood to get a grip on your control. (I’d write about you feeding from the source, but another time maybe).

➳❥ During these moments your friendship with him is built. Late–night conversations, walking through the forest, having midnight picnics under the stars and laughing away. They all assisted with your nerves on how you believed he perceived you.

➳❥ It does sadden him that you could only be out at night, not able to experience all the beauty at came with daylight and you also never be able to see the sun as you were one of the elves stolen before the Great Journey.

➳❥ He would spend all his time describing to you what daylight and sun felt and appeared like, all the birds and flowers, the ocean as it glittered during the sunrise and sunset. All the while he did this, he would consult with one of the Valar, preferably Varda and Aüle to forge a ring you can wear to shield you from the sunlight.

➳❥ During one of your nightly meet–ups, while you’re excitedly informing him about your progress and ability to be around other people without harming them due to the consumption of his blood, he surprises you with the ring.

➳❥ That would be the first time you had ever seen the sun and daylight since your existence. His standards had set him apart from other people you had met along the way, causing him to hold a special place in your heart; for now, you were able to no longer be apart from him whenever he had to separate for his duties. You could follow him anywhere in the world.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @lamemaster @stormchaser819

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link.

[alagaesia-headcanons]

I have a ride or die headcanon that little Murtagh was obsessed with Morzan’s dragon. He absolutely loved him.

Murtagh sees him often enough from a young enough age that he’s never scared of him. So naturally, he’s absolutely enamored with the huge, beautiful, glittery, fire breathing monster that hangs out outside the house. He’s kept at a distance, but he’s still the dragon’s biggest fan. Murtagh’s very upset to learn that he doesn’t have a name which feels very unfair to him, so he musters up all his creativity and dubs him “Red”.

Morzan doesn’t always travel with his dragon when he leaves the estate, depending on what he needs to do. So sometimes the dragon stays and rests while Morzan is gone. During one such time, when Selena is also away on a mission, a freshly 3 year old Murtagh escapes his nurses and goes to Red. He’s careful at first, testing the waters gently, then getting increasingly close and comfortable with him when Red seems utterly unbothered. He’s no more than an ant next to the dragon’s enormous size. Murtagh is immediately in love, clambering all over him and constantly babbling to him, undeterred by the lack of response.

The servants do eventually find him after a frantic search. Morzan’s dragon doesn’t like any of the staff, so despite letting Murtagh nestle into the crook of his foreleg, he snarls and snaps at anyone who tries to get close enough to retrieve him. The servants are stuck in a grim dilemma, because no one’s willing to test the limits of a gargantuan, irascible dragon, and they don’t have anything to bribe Murtagh with that’s cooler than said dragon, so he refuses to budge. They’re absolutely terrified the dragon will kill him, either inadvertently or not.

After three full days of Murtagh glued to Red’s side, remaining miraculously unsquished, Morzan returns. The servants are in a cold sweat, stuttering and shaking like leaves in a storm as they try to explain that his son is fine, there’s no need for alarm, but there may be just a small issue. He goes to his partner and does with insulting ease what the staff have fruitlessly tried for three days, he steps right in and scoops Murtagh up. He looks completely unkempt and ignoble, dirty and scraped from being outside the whole time, giggling unrepentantly and singing Red’s praises.

To the servants great luck, Morzan finds this all quite amusing. Carrying Murtagh back to the house, he accuses, “Trying to replace me as the dragon Rider, are you?” and Murtagh cries, “Yes! Take me flying!” Morzan says that he will, but it never happens.

Selena is less thrilled when she learns of this, also afraid that the dragon might kill Murtagh in a moment of annoyance. But Murtagh adores him and she can’t reliably keep him away, so she tries to accept the incongruous match. Red doesn’t show any perceptible warmth to him, and yet he makes the effort to keep tabs on him and stops him from doing anything too dangerous. Of course, since the banishing of the names stunted his mind, the dragon doesn’t have any nuanced opinion of Murtagh, but he can recognize that his little ant feels incapable of malice and he comes to like Murtagh in the way he can. Learning of Red’s death on top of the loss of both his parents utterly devastates Murtagh.

After a little while in Uru’baen, Tornac asks Murtagh which parent he was closer to, and Murtagh tells him Morzan’s dragon. Tornac takes a very long, very strained breath, thinking Oh dear gods help me I have so much fucking work to do.

[maharghaideovate]

Sikkim Manipal University: Modern Learning Environment

The image shows two individuals working at a desk with computers, viewed from above. A large purple circle overlays the image on the left side, containing the text “Ethical Decision-Making in HR: Sikkim Manipal Distance MBA.” This suggests that the image is likely related to promotional or informational material about a distance learning Master of Business Administration program offered by Sikkim Manipal University, with a focus on ethical decision-making in Human Resources. The overhead perspective and inclusion of technology imply a modern, professional educational environment.

[ssetchubai]

Battle Maniac and his fighting style.

While I was creating various videos with the BRB, I wondered: what exactly is the fighting style of the Battle Maniac? No wonder he has such a loud nickname, which should imply monstrous abilities in battle. The developers created his animations based on a real-life fighting style. And this fact prompted me to write this post.

Let's talk about weapon first. I mistakenly believed that the Battle Maniac uses a rapier or an epee, when I first met the BRB. The saber is also a weapon used in fencing, as I've learned. After examining the structure of the saber in detail, I concluded that the Battle Maniac is fencing with a saber. Rapier, epee and saber differ markedly in the appearance of the blade and hilt.

Saber is a chopping and stabbing weapon. It can be inflicted not only with pricks with the tip, but also with chopping blows with the whole blade. It has a flexible steel blade with an oval-shaped guard with a bracket protecting the owner's hand and fingers. Since saber discipline has a wide range of movements and requires fast and strong attacks, swordsmen's footwork and reaction to changes in strategy are the key to victory.

We can conclude that the Battle Maniac wields a saber, since both stabbing and cutting blows can be traced in his mechanics. Saber fencing is the most traumatic and most demanding for an athlete among other modern types of sports fencing, because of the blows, which can be extremely painful if the technique is violated.

Methods of holding a saber. The saber should be held lightly, without excessive tension in the fingers. When controlling a weapon, slightly squeeze the handle of the saber with your fingers, feel the position of the arch, which is formed by three points of support — the index finger and thumb and the flesh of the palm at the little finger.

a.) - Basic; b.) - Individual.

I think the Maniac uses the basic way of holding the saber, since his fingers are located closer to the blade and further from the end of the handle.

Fighting stance. I thought, "Maybe this is an individual stand? After all, his legs are in the right position. He's a professional in battles, he could have picked up his own stance." But no, I still found the name of his rack, and this position is called "recover saber".

The fighting stile. I will not describe the detailed location of the body and limbs, because it will confuse you. You can see the comparison below in the form of GIFs and pictures.

Movements in the combat stance are performed in the form of steps and jumps forward and backward of various lengths. A large place is occupied by double steps, running forward and backward, steps and jumps with great depth of advance, as well as various jumping movements. A prerequisite is the constant maintenance of a stable position of the torso in a combat stance.

The lunge. The most common variant of the lunge is a lunge performed from a fighting stance with a slightly larger body weight distribution on the leg in front. You can also make a jumping lunge from this rack.

Fencing with a saber requires constant maneuvering, moving quickly along the track for considerable distances. Saber fencing is characterized by a diverse use of attacking actions with varying speed of execution for tactical purposes, as well as saturation of actions based on the speed of dilemma reactions and switches.

I thought that the topic of fencing and the Battle Maniac's fighting style would be extremely interesting to parse. It also turned out to be very difficult for me because I don't understand anything about it, and I had to reread a bunch of articles, watch a lot of videos and review the Battle Maniac's movements at slow speed.

There is a result! I think the developers took saber fencing as the basis for the Battle Maniac's mechanics. His movements have some personality that he could develop with experience, but all his movements really exist and are practiced to this day!

[chlorinecake]

Love On A Leash | 심재윤 𓇢𓆸

summary • You offer to dog-sit Jake’s energetic pet border collie as a means to get closer to him. But how will he react when he finds out you forgot to feed her while he was gone?

pairing • next door neighbor!jake x reader • word count • 3.6k genre next door neighbor au, fluff • warnings language, jake and reader have a minor argument, suggestive themes, kissing

YOU FELT LIKE cursing your mother for making you do this.

It was currently 7am as you stood outside your next door neighbor’s front porch with a basket of assorted muffins in hand. The gesture was supposed to be a housewarming gift on behalf of your 'humble community,' your mother tasking you with delivering the treats while she got ready for work although she was already running late.

Your dilemma had nothing to do with her act of kindness, but everything to do with the very moment your dangerously lovesick eyes landed on your new neighbor, Sim Jake.

It goes without saying that he was good-looking, and attractive guys were no more to you than kryptonite is to superman; a crippling weakness. You were already whipped for Jake as is, creating a file filled with all of the things you either learned or observed about him over the past two weeks.

You hadn't even been standing at his porch for 15 seconds before your feet struggled to stay put, tempted to abandon ship and just tell your mom that no one was home.

Maybe he won't even answer, you tried comforting yourself.

What kind of a 20 year old guy would be up this early, anyways?

The door knob twisted as a muffled yawn met your ears, the door creaking open to reveal none other than Jake himself.

He was dressed in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead that he somehow pulled off.

“Hello?” He said with a groggy yet friendly accent.

“Hi! I’m your next door neighbor's daughter, ____. Here's a welcoming gift from our family to yours,” you forced a smile, handing him the basket.

“Wow, this is really sweet of you guys,” he thanked with a toothy smile, but you stood awkwardly.

“My name is Jake, by the way," he said while giving you a handshake, trying to break the tense physical barrier.

"Glad we could finally meet," you returned, "My mom talks about your family all the time. All good things, of course."

“Yeah, apparently she and my dad knew each other in high school… but now I’m curious. How much do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re from Brisbane and recently moved here for college! Oh, and you’re a huge dog lover, especially of golden retriever’s, like the one you have? Hmm, aren’t you an athlete? I think I’ve seen you in a tracksuit befo-”

“Those are all things about me, silly, not my family,” he giggled, running a hand through his locks.

Buzz.

Jake set the basket down on the table behind him, reaching in his pocket to analyze whatever just popped up on his phone screen. You wondered if he had a girlfr-

"Hm," he hummed, taking a step back into his house.

"I should get going now. Thanks again for the gift! I hope to see you around more often.”

“Well, its not like we can really avoid each other, anyways,” you said, drawing his attention to the brief distance between your two houses.

He blushed at the realization, "Give me a break, ____, I’m not usually up this early. And for the record, Layla’s a border collie!" He exclaimed before closing the door.

Updated Mental Note: (1) Jake’s dad knew your mom in high school, (2) Jake isn’t a morning person, (3) Jake’s dog is a border collie [confirmed].

Surprisingly, that interaction wasn't nearly as painful as you expected it to be.

Jake was chill.

Attractive, yes, but somehow, you survived. Trailing back from his porch to your house, you walked inside to find your mother fastening a pair of heels around her ankles before standing up to meet you. “How do I look? Is my hair okay? Wait, tell me, what did they say about the muffins?”

“You look great, mom! And their son answered, but he said he really appreciated it.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Alright, sweetie! Duty calls! I’ll see you at dinner!”

“See ya,” you waved before closing the door.

JAKE’S DAD HAD started giving him a hard time concerning the dog. After summer, Jake was busy most of the time with soccer practice and school, and so with two working parents, it was hard to keep up with Layla’s random outbursts.

“You either find someone to watch her or she’s going to the pound!” His dad scowled while picking up a few pillows that Layla chewed holes into. “She’s been with us for years, and even now after the move, Dad! We can’t just give her up for acting like a dog! She’s getting used to this change, too,” Jake argued back while sweeping up a pile of kibble she knocked over.

“I hear what you’re saying, but make sure you consider what I’ve said. I’m not sure how much longer your mother and I can take this.”

A few minutes after their conversation, Jake decided to go and play catch with Layla in the front yard.

“Come here girl, come here! Stop? Sit? Good doggy,” he praised, ruffling the fur on her back before giving her a treat. You were walking home from the bus stop when Jake pointed to one of the tennis balls Layla forget to fetch which you ended up tripping over, the books you were carrying now joining you on the pavement.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” Jake said running over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke for your physical being as emotionally, you were an embarrassed wreck.

He helped you gather your textbooks and journals, “You’ll probably wanna put these in here.” He smiled, handing you the bag he used to carry Layla’s outdoor toys.

“No really, it’s alright, Jake. I should’ve brought my backpack with me.”

“No, I insist. Think if it as payment for the muffins,” he encouraged, neatly putting the books in the bag before tying it closed. Layla was busy bouncing around the two of you, trying to get Jake’s attention. A glint of playfulness sparkled in his eyes.

“Wanna try throwing the ball?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Last time I tried something like that, I ended up having to replace a few things I could hardly afford.” Jake laughed at your honesty, taking your hand in his before closing your fingers around the ball. “Just give it a shot. Prove me wrong,” he winked.

You looked down bashfully, giving in while warming up your shoulders, “You might wanna stand back a bit unless you like getting hit in the balls.”

He giggled again, walking back a few steps, “You’re being too hard on yourself, silly! Just throw it!”

Taking a deep breath, you launched the tennis ball an impressive distance away from you, the excited cream dog chasing after it. “Holy shit! You’ve got the arm of a pro, ____!” Jake exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Now, when she comes back, you give her this treat.” “With my hand?” “Of course! Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

In a matter of seconds, Layla was already running back to you, dropping the drool-covered ball from her mouth before eating the dog biscuits from your hand, the texture of her tongue tickling your palm. “Good girl,” Jake chirped as he met you and Layla on the ground.

“How’d you come up with her name?”

“Layla? Hmm. I’ve never had someone ask me that before,” he admitted, moving to sit crisscross applesauce. “Let’s see… when I was a kid, my inspiration was pretty corny.”

“Corny can be cute sometimes,” you smiled.

“Well, when my family adopted her, she didn’t have a name yet. One of my favorite songs back then was Eric Clapton’s “Layla,” so I figured that’s what she’d be called.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

“You probably think everything I do is adorable.”

It was like a cat caught your tongue, leaving you speechless at his comment.

“Kidding,” he smiled, nudging your shoulder before a sad look waved over his features.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “It’s my dad. He wants me to get rid of Layla.”

“But why? Isn’t she like family to you?”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he thinks she’s only become a burden now that I’m not around as much,” he frowned, watching Layla chase herself around a tree. “The pound’s not a place for a dog like Layla.”

You sat in thought, thinking of ways to comfort Jake that didn’t involve touching him. Then it hit you.

“I can dog-sit her for you.”

His eyes widened in shock at your offer, resembling a cute puppy, “You'd seriously do that for me? Do you have experience?”

“Obviously,” you scoffed dishonestly, “look how comfortable we are with each other. I’m a natural at this.”

“Wow, I really appreciate this. I’ll pay you fifteen dollars per hour starting tomorrow from 11am to 3pm, and then-“

“Jake, I don’t want your money," you giggled, not even realizing that your hand rested on his exposed thigh, "I just wanna help.”

He smiled, “Okay, then. But if you ever feel like backing out, don't hesitate to let me know! Trust me, I won't be disappointed, Layla can be a handful.”

“Gotchya,” you replied, tossing another tennis ball for his dog to fetch, “How should I contact you?”

“Uhhh, I’ll just give you my phone number. Do you have a pen with you?”

“Yeah, right here,” you said, handing him the pen from your pocket.

Jake wrote his number on your wrist. “Perfect,” he chirped, rubbing a thumb over the writings.

“I’ll text you my schedule and everything once I hear from you again, see you around, neighbor!”

“See you!” You returned, both of you going back to your respective houses, the bliss of each other still fresh on your faces.

TO YOUR LUCK, your first day as a dog-sitter was going swimmingly well so far. Jake outlined a simple list of things for you to follow while he was away, tasks ranging from dog-walks to bathroom breaks making up most of the next few hours of your day.

Before Jake left, all you could remember was him saying something about a bag of dog food either in the fridge or pantry, but you were too distracted by the grey sweatpants he wore to successfully pay attention. So, you improvised by intuition.

What would I eat if I was a dog, you asked yourself, searching for any cooked proteins in Jake's fridge, only to find a pack of bacon bits.

Hmm, this could work.

Layla was waiting for her meal patiently by her empty feeding bowl as you moved to explore the pantry, pulling out a few marshmallows and graham crackers to add to the mix. Pouring the contents into her bowl, you gave her a few head scratches before she dove in, munching up every last bite.

"Looks like I've created a culinary masterpiece," you smiled, "I'll call it "____'s Canine Trail Mix," approved by the likes of Sim Layla and many more."

JAKE SHOWED UP about twenty minutes later, greeting you before asking about Layla.

"Everything went great," you beamed, taking him to the couch she laid tiredly on.

“What’s wrong with her? Did she just wake up from a nap?”

“I don't know, I just got out of the bathroom.”

“Did you walk her?”

“Of course, for two hours like you said.”

“Hmm. Did she play with her toys at all?”

“A little bit, but she didn’t seem interested after eating."

“Maybe you gave her too much food. How many scoops of kibble did she get?”

“What?" You asked, initially confused at the mentioning of kibble until you remembered what Jake was trying to tell you before he left: Layla gets 2 scoops of kibble for lunch with a few sausages from the fridge.

“How much food did you give Layla?” He repeated.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed her.”

His jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

"Well, I did feed her, but I forgot about the kibble. I gave her a bowl of bacon bits, graham crackers, and marshmallows instead."

Jake paced back and forth, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "What kind of a person with 'dog experience' decides to feed them marshmallows of all things? A whole ass bowl full?”

"I'm not following," you admitted timidly.

"Connect the dots, would ya?" He spat, trying to control his breathing.

"How was I supposed to know dogs can’t eat marshmallows?"

"Dog's don't eat common human foods, ____, that’s a no-brainer! I thought you said you had experience with this kind of thing," he frowned, meeting Layla on the couch to comfort her aching state.

You kept your distance from him, "I lied to you, Jake. I’m an amateur when it comes to this stuff."

He scoffed disappointedly, "Why would you lie about something like that, ____?"

"I- I just…I wanted to help you! You seemed really upset about the whole thing with your dad and I- it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

"Well, for future reference, lying never helps."

You swallowed the dryness that grew in your throat, "I’m really sorry, Jake. Is there anything that I can do to help? Maybe get her some medicine?"

"No, ____, you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you around."

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you simply grabbed your things and walked towards the door, the sounds of Layla's guttural wrenching making you cringe in shame and disgust.

Updated mental note: (1) Dogs can’t eat marshmallows, (2) Lying never fixes situations, (3) Jake probably hates you now [pending confirmation]

IT WAS A few days after the dog-sitting situation when you were studying on your front lawn, completely mesmerized by the view of Jake as he worked out in his garage. You felt guilty for ogling after everything that happened, but you couldn't fight your hormonally induced urges.

He was pushing out his third set of bench presses, fluffy brown hair framing his cheekbones. He screwed his eyes shut from the intensity, biting his lower lip as he tried to push through the resistance of his fatigue arms.

He glanced over quickly as sweat started to drip in his eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in the headlights at the realization that you’d been caught peeking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, struggling to handle the weight. “__-____?!” He stuttered your name breathlessly, losing his grip. “JAKE!”

You ran faster than your legs have ever carried you, adrenaline kicking in as you slid the left weight off of the rod, jumping onto his lap to avoid the iron disc from smashing your foot. “Ugh,” he groaned in relief as you reached to slide the other weight off, unintentionally pressing yourself into him.

That sound might replay in your mind forever.

Gripping the rod in your hand, you looked down to see both your own and Jake’s veiny hands holding onto the pole for dear life. Then you looked down, realizing that you were sitting straight on his bulge.

“Oh my God, sorry!” You yelped, leaping off of his sweaty frame. He giggled at your apology, feeling embarrassed himself but for different reasons.

“It’s alright, ____, you probably just saved my life there,” he said, now sitting up on the bench. He gave you a look before continuing. “Why were you stalking me?”

“Me? I-“

“I’m not upset, or anything. Did you wanna tell me something?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t mean to-"

Layla's barking from inside the house cut you off mid sentence. You were just now noticing the pink paint stains on his shirt, a few drops decorating the private area of his sweatpants.

Similarly to a puppy, Jake forgot all about what you were just talking about, getting up to fix the equipment. “You’re really fast, y’know? What other secret athletic talents do you have?”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, if you ever tried tickling me, I might become a professional kickboxer.”

Jake laughed at your joke like he always did. You swore that if he blessed your ears with his beautiful laugh one more time, you might explode.

“Maybe you should spot me sometime,” he said, fastening the ring weight back on the rod.

Your eyes fell to the paint stains on his paints. “I’m sorry?”

“Spot me. Like when I’m weightlifting. You seem pretty keen to watching out for me, anyways.”

You could feel heat rushing through every part of your body. “Of course, anything for a neighbor,” you smiled, trying to redirect his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

Layla barked even louder this time, Jake sighing before heading to his garage door. For some reason you followed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m washing white clothes, so if you have anything light colored on, throw it in the machine,” Jake’s mom yelled from the kitchen at the sound of him entering the house.

“Alright,” he called back, taking off his sweaty white t-shirt and tossing it into the washer. He reached over to press a few buttons on the machine, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. He trailed from the washroom, you still following closely behind.

“It’s a maze in here,” you said, marveling at how big his house was.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” he giggled, taking your hand in his to guide you. 

You just remembered that he came in here to look for Layla, so you listened out, trying to help him find her.

“Oh,” you said, stopping Jake in his tracks as you pointed to a four legged shadow running around underneath a closed door, “she’s right here.”

He turned, “What? How’d she get in my bedroom?” Jake walked towards the door, twisting the handle to reveal Layla chasing her tail in a circle.

“You’re so silly, Layla,” he smiled, running a hand through her thick blonde fur. “She’s doing such much better now,” you commented, meeting Jake and his dog on the floor.

“Yeah, she was totally fine after getting that stuff out of her system. Don't worry, though, she told me she forgives you," he smiled.

"And what about you?"

"Of course, ____. I don't think I could over hold a grudge against you."

Layla hopped on your lap, licking at your hands. You would’ve been grossed out if it wasn’t Jake’s dog. Her tongue tickled your palms as she panted in excitement, “I wish I had this much energy on a daily basis,” you beamed, Jake returning a grin himself.

“I think she just really likes you,” he replied. “With all of those kisses, you must taste pretty nice.”

“Maybe you’ll have to try sometime,” you said, not even realizing how suggestive your comment was. Jake grabbed a random tennis ball from the floor before tossing it out of the room, “Go fetch,” he ordered, Layla chasing after the ball.

A sparkle twinkled in his eye before he lead your face towards his by your chin. He noticed that you looked nervous, but decided to take his chances and kiss you anyway, all of your nerves melting away at the softness of his lips. You felt his hand grip at the side of your neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Kicking your foot, you closed the door slightly, falling on your back for him to take the lead. His lips broke from yours with a pop as your cold hands snuck around his bare waist. He hummed at the feeling, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

His breath was so hot against your skin, sweet sounds escaping your mouth from all the action. That’s when you two heard Layla trailing back to his room, returning to the positions you were sat in before Layla left. She barged through the door, slobbery tennis ball between her jaws as she dropped before Jake. “Good girl,” he cheered, fluffing at her fur.

You felt the aftermath of your kiss like a wave, exhausting yet refreshing.

You felt Jake.

His kiss was like water, crashing and roaring, yet emotional and gentle. You couldn’t tell, but he still felt a wave that hit him, too.

He felt you.

Your hands modest and shy, yet your lips eager and passionate. 

Layla barked for what sounded like her loudest one thus far. “I’ve gotta go walk Layla,” Jake said, sounding happy yet simultaneously like he’d rather be doing something else. Fastening a leash around Layla's collar, he trailed out of his room. You reached on his dresser and grabbed a shirt for him to wear on his way out.

His mom was no longer in the kitchen, but you decided to be polite anyways. “Bye, Mrs. Sim!” You could hear her returning the salutation from some part of the maze-like house, making your heart feel warm. Jake walked through garage and stopped at the driveway, having locked all the doors before exiting the house.

“Thanks for stopping by, ____,” he smiled, flashing you a look so intense, you might fall over. “Anytime,” you returned, handing him the shirt you’d been carrying. You don’t know when it happened, but you didn’t feel awkward in front of his shirtless frame anymore. “Aww,” he giggled, “I didn’t even realize I was still shirtless.”

He was so puppy-like that you couldn't help but adore him. Layla starting running, Jake loosing grip of her leash while distracted by you. “Layla!” He called after her before running to catch up himself.

“I gotta go now. Bye, ____!” He yelled as he ran after his excited dog. “Bye, Jake,” you called out while waving, even though he didn’t see you.

You walked back to your house, talking your shoes off at the front door before heading upstairs to your bedroom. You knew you didn’t wanna leave Jake's side yet, but you had other things to work on at home in the meantime.

Things like sharing with your diary that you and Sim Jake just kissed.

𐂯‎ This piece was created to mark TODAY, my official first month on as a Tumblr creator!!!! Thank you all so much for reading this piece! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :3

𐂯 Feel free to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

𐂯‎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @yngwife @sussyjake @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @stinkoscope @03sunoos @4imhry @rickysblkgf

[hyuwunjinie]

Blood in the Snow (pt.1)

Characters: Hyunjin x afab reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage to Lovers, Romance, Smut, Angst & Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual pining, Toxic Parents, Misogyny (Period accurate)

Explicit sexual content. This work portrays elements/themes that may be triggering, proceed with caution. Minors DNI.

Word count: 1,157

Summary: You thought you were engaged for eternity, destined to live your princess' dreams in a grand castle. But the moment you close your eyes, all you can see is the blood in the snow.

—

Today the weather was absolutely wonderful, yet you were anxiously clutching the ruffles of your dress. Your mother sitting next to you had been trying her best to reassure you, to no avail, and your behavior earned you a light tap on the back of your right hand as she clicked her tongue. 

“y/n, I know you are impatient, but please, try to keep your dress in one piece, alright?”

Impatient wasn’t quite the right word. You were terrified. The carriage you were in was meant to bring you straight to the Great North to meet your betrothed, a Lord much higher in status than you were. You were already missing the golden fields of amber wheat that ruffled near your home’s stables.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t call this place home anymore, really. Home was now wherever you were headed to, or it shall become home sooner or later, you tried to reassure yourself. You didn’t even know when you could come back, of if you’ll ever get the opportunity to. This realisation was breaking your heart, but the adrenaline rushing through your veins was keeping you from becoming too emotional. 

Your back was already hurting, and you wished you were horseriding instead of having to sit in a stupid carriage in a stupid ruffled dress. In your opinion, you looked like a porcelain doll. And this was not a compliment ; an overdone makeup with your skin way too fair and your cheeks way too pink, a dress that looked like it came straight from a six years old closet, and a painful hairstyle which took one hour to put in place. 

“Mom, I’m just stressed, okay? I am not looking forward to this anymore.” You admitted with bitterness.

“Oh Honey, don’t say this, please. You are gorgeous, there’s no way they won’t like you. give me your hands, they must be tense.”

You always admired your mother’s way to dodge a difficult subject by redirecting people’s attention on another, but this time you silently cursed the gods you were the victim of her stratagem. With a sigh, you gave your hands to your mother who dedicated herself to slowly massage them. Looking out the small window of the carriage, you contemplated the slow change of the scenery, the golden leaves of the south trees slowly giving up their spots for their green cousins. Reminiscing the past, you let yourself drift to sleep under the careful gaze of your mother.

—

“Mom, where does he live ?” You asked, your small frame holding onto her hand in front of the newest portrait in the hall. You were four or six years old, at most. 

“Way up north, sweetie.” Your mother answered, her voice calm and collected. Cold but warm, she gave you a reassuring press on your palm. 

“... Why can’t he come play here ?” You let out with a pout, puzzled at how distances worked still and scratching your brain to understand your mother’s words. 

“It’s too far. it would take him hours to reach this place.” She chuckled, mellowed by your cute face and visible dilemma. 

“That’s not fair. I want to play.” You were eyeing the portrait now. 

A youthful boy was sitting next to two adults. Their faces seemed warm and inviting, a welcoming sight for the viewer. But you learned fast enough that your focus should be on the other kid. He had short black hair, full lips and almond eyes. Dressed in expensive clothing, he sported a navy blue vest with shorts and dress shoes. 

Your mother sighed, a thoughtful gaze etched on her face. 

“Life is rarely fair, y/n.” Her sudden grave tone made you look up, and she met your gaze halfway. “See, this boy ? His name is Hwang Hyunjin. One day, you will be his wife. Like your mama and papa.” Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, contrasting with her small smile. “And you will have a happy, wonderful life with him.”

“...Mama, why are you crying ?” Confused, you could feel your own tears prickling your eyes, but you didn’t even know why you felt this way. 

Now at your level, your mother gently put back a strand of your hair behind your ear and embraced you closely. 

“... It’s nothing, sweetie. Mama is a little tired, alright ?” She sobbed in your shoulder. 

You remember it snowed, that day. 

—

“Y/n ! look !!” You were woken up in a rush by your mother who was gently rubbing your upper arm to get your attention. 

Barely processing your environment, you focused your brain on your mother who was pointing intently at the carriage window.

You followed her hand, and all you could see was white. Snow, you realised. Snow as far as you could see. It was the first time you witnessed a wintery landscape. In the south, it did snow some times, but it never stayed on ground, melting right away upon its contact. 

The light reflected so prettily upon the white mantle outside that you let out an audible gasp, mesmerized by this new sight. getting closer to the window, you could see your breath, and you shuddered, suddenly aware of the sudden drop of temperature you were experiencing. You were hurting still, but you suddenly felt glad to be inside the somewhat warm haven of the carriage. 

Reaching for the bag in front of your seat, your mother pulled up an ivory chawl that she put tightly around you. 

“I knitted this one myself, you know ?” She chuckled proudly.

“Wait, really ? I thought you hated knitting, mother.” You stared in disbelief at the skilled handiwork of the chawl and its flowery details. You slowly discerned patterns of sunflowers and lilies. You recognised the sunflowers to be you, as it was your favorite flower, and it didn’t took you long to remember lilies were Hyunjin’s favorites.

“Oh, I do, don’t get me wrong. But I wanted to surprise you. I was meant to give this to you after the wedding, but I suppose now is as good as ever, right?” She looked at you, gaze thoughtful and unreadable. You stared at each other for a second, before you finally broke the eye contact. 

“Thank you, mother. It’s a wonderful gift. I will treasure it greatly.” You stared at the mixed patterns of sunflowers and lilies. “I will use it a lot with these temperatures, I’m sure.” Reaching out for a hug, you suddenly felt as if something changed, in that instant. A realisation that, after the wedding, your parents will return to your- their home. You won’t see your mother every morning anymore, waiting for you at breakfast with eggs and toast and fresh orange juice. You won’t be able to go flower picking together anymore. You squeezed her more tightly. 

“...I will miss you, mother.”

“I will miss you too, y/n.”

In silence, you held onto these words for what seemed an eternity. 

[saintgoths]

ᴀɴɢᴇʟꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

POSSESSIVE!JOEL X SIREN!READER - ANGELS LIKE YOU.

[PART EIGHT TO THE SIREN SERIES]. ITS ACTUALLY CALLED NOVEMBER.

WORD COUNT - 2,463.

RATING - 18+. [sexual innuendos].

SUMMARY - as joel no longer wants to have a secret affair with you, he gives you a dilemma.

feedback would be appreciated!

previous chapter - chapter seven.

It had been late September when both you and Shiloh started going fishing together, it had been a quick trip, but Shiloh hadn’t been passionate about going back to Jackson after the event, he had something else in mind and it was to take you to a private place that had been quite a distance from where you usually fished.

The building had been evidently abandoned, or used to be abandoned as usually left places would have the infected hiding in the dark ready to pounce whoever was lost and ignorant about how well they were at camouflaging. The architecture was towering enough to block the Sun from their eyes, and it had a few cracks along with moss and grown roots that covered the symbol of the building, it had slightly leaned to the side but seemed stable, it still looked pretty, you had thought, and hand in hand with Shiloh, you had allowed your partner to guide you inside the building.

“What is this place?” You had smiled and with your senses you had noted the scent of salt and chlorine.

With a smile, Shiloh gently curved his head to look at you. He had been pretty under the shade, the lights had been on but they were dim, but still enough to have the man glow as if he was an Angel. “This is a place where you can swim without having the potential of any other person seeing your true form.”

As your eyes glinted, you had easily come up with a joke. “Am I supposed to hide my identity?” You had asked and as he comedically rolled his eyes, Shiloh guided you to a door and pushed it open with his one hand, as the door had been old, there was a deep but sharp moan that had responded to the movement “You know what I mean,” he mumbled and once you had saw the sight of the pool which had been clean, you had considered Shiloh had come here before, slain the infected and cleaned up the pool so it could be safe for you to dip in.

“Pool water won’t automatically change me into a Siren,” you clarified, besides you knew how to control your transformation, if you had wanted to change you could, but you couldn’t do it when it came to salt water. It would take a Siren years to learn how to manipulate themselves to still be in their Human form if the Ocean water touched their skin.

You had stood at the top step that led into the water, ready to go in as you had loved the water. “And it took me many trips to the Ocean to gather salt water for you,” Shiloh said with a smile, and as you scrunched your nose, you easily allowed yourself to change once your body dipped inside the liquid. “Well, its mixed with salt water, it would’ve taken me a team to gather salt water to fill up that size of the pool.”

You had laughed as you floated on your back, your tail had gently whipped around as it flicked droplets of the pool’s water against your bare skin. You had sighed as you had spread your arms wide open, allowing the salty water to seep through your nose, your mouth, your eyes, everything, every time you had been away from water, you had missed it, the water was your home, your birthplace, where you had belonged.

“Your beauty---I mean your Siren form is beautiful,” Shiloh breathed out, he had been in his swim wear, shirtless, a view you had usually liked but you would’ve liked it even more if he was wet.

As you had turned to your stomach, you had gently moved your tail so you could push yourself further towards your lover. “When Joel first saw it, he was terrified.”

“He cannot see the beauty in it, it’s the infamous Human Fear,” Shiloh said as he sat on the edge of the floor, his legs inside the water as he lovingly watched you swim towards him, your webbed hands had placed against his knees, the texture of your smooth siren skin had caused him to shudder, but he loved it, it had made him want to feel your hands and body all other his skin, had speculated how it would feel, to make love to you in this form. “It’s good you’re not with him anymore,” he whispered as he drawled his head backwards. “Good that you’re not into him anymore.”

You had shyly smiled, regretful that you had slept with Joel behind Shiloh’s back. “What about the Siren Pack you used to belong to?” Shiloh asked as he slipped himself into the water, sucked in air between his teeth as he had taken in the cold water.

“A Chorus of Sirens,” you had corrected. “We’re called a Chorus of Sirens not a pack,” you had smiled as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “We had the best singers,” you explained. “Before everything had happened, we belonged to the Mediterranean Sea Chorus, but we often met with other Choruses, for traditional holidays, birthdays, parties,” you had sorrowfully smiled, “other traditions.”

“When the outbreak happened, each Choruses from different seas began to protect each other, especially against the Red Circle, they had wiped so much of us out, I was forced to go, to save myself and not look back, but before I did, I promised them that I’d come back, to look for them. I went everywhere, ever beach, seaside, I just couldn’t find them,” you said as you slowly let go of Shiloh who had looked at you with a specific expression, a look of interest and sorrow.

“So, when I came up with the conclusion that they must’ve all been killed off while fighting, I was angry, started coming to the beaches to find any man and eat them, but that all changed when I met---” you then stopped yourself and sighed, but with a short smile, you had felt Shiloh’s wet hand be placed against your cheek.

He had stared at you, had gently pushed your face for you to look at him, to see that he didn’t have a look of judgement, and then he spoke. “It all changed when you met Joel?” Shiloh had asked and with a sad smile you had felt his fingers move to your chin, your chin moving against his fingers as you nodded.

“Because I met Joel,” you agreed.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Once you had returned to Jackson you had been overrun by a crowd of curious people who had been willing to buy what you had been selling, fish to eat and fish to have as pets, you had a crowd trading with you, Bella who had been a part of the crowd had stood on the tip of her toes, her hand punched through the air as she crazily waved as a sign that she was coming towards you.

People were quick to leave with their new assets so there weren’t going to be much people that were going to hear the conversation you and your closest friend were going to share. “You came back later than usual,” Bella said, she had her signature red lipstick, a type of shade you would’ve disliked seeing on other people, but it had fit well on her, it was like the shade of blood from a freshly cut wound.

“Shiloh took me a place,” you shared and with a wink, Bella grinned at you. “You got down to business?”

With an arched eyebrow you placed one hand against your hip. “Of course.”

As much as you had wanted to share what Shiloh had done to you to your friend, the sight of Ellie had made you press your lips together, she had been excited to see you, and it appeared like she had left Joel’s home, she usually was in a chirpy attitude whenever she left his home, it must’ve meant they finished watching a movie.

“This time, I have to get a fish,” Ellie said and as you had happily showed Ellie which ones she could choose, Shiloh had been behind you, he had finished conversing with someone who was a part of the crowd that was buying from you.

He had his arm wrapped around your waist fore he briskly pressed his lips against your cheek, his motion had earned a disgusted look from Ellie. “I’ll be at the hospital,” Shiloh shared and as you had happily scrunched your nose you had bid your boyfriend a goodbye fore you had watched him leave.

-With a plastic bag that had held the fish she had wanted, a Betta Fish she had been unsure what to name it, she had told you to give it a day and she’d find the perfect name for it. “Did you use to be a diver?” Ellie inquired and with a smile, you had straightened your back.

“A free diver,” you corrected and with a look of admiration, Ellie had gasped, more reason to put you up on a pedestal. “Used to get into competitions as well,” you had winked and with excitement, the young girl had hopped on both her feet.

“Did you win any trophies?” Ellie asked and with a look sent her way, you had looked at her with a perceptive look on your face, telling her, “of course, I did.”

With a gasp, Ellie’s green eyes sparkled. “Do you have any of them?”

-“Ellie,” you drawled. “Of course not.”

Feeling stupid, Ellie had then frowned. “Of course not,” she repeated. “You probably lost all of them.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A couple of days had passed and you had found yourself in a bar, it had been Maria’s birthday and almost all the adults in the community had packed themselves into the building, fortunately, there had been space, space for people to dance around and dance with each other, hot food and drinks were being served, and you been right by Shiloh who had been drinking countlessly in the name of Maria.

Joel who had been on the other side of the room had watched you, you had felt it, every time his sight would glance over your body, as if he telepathically yearned for you to come speak to him. Though it had stopped, but every now and then Joel would steal a glance from you and Shiloh would be the one to catch it.

“Of course, he’s the jealous ex,” Shiloh slurred, eyes narrowed as he threw Joel threatening darts, Joel who had been unmoved by the slimmer man’s attempt of intimidation folded his arms.

With a sigh, you put down your glass cup and spoke. “Leave it alone Shiloh.”

“The audacity,” he continued. “To make you feel bad for what you are, and act like the ex that did nothing wrong.”

As you had hushed him, you had awkwardly scanned the area to make sure no one heard what he was speaking about, fortunately no one did. “Please don’t speak about it,” you pleaded, aware that if Shiloh did speak more, people would nosily eavesdrop.

With a twisted face, Shiloh hunched over the bar table the both of you had been on. “Why are you defending him?” He asked and flabbergasted you had sat up.

“I just want the situation to be left alone,” you truthfully said, aware with how people started to lean closer towards the both of you. With a sigh, you had turned to Maria with an apologetic look on your face. “I’m so sorry Maria,” you apologised grateful that she had waved it off. “He had too much to drink,” you said as you pulled yourself off the seat you previously sat on. “Come on, let’s go, I’ll take you home.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had left Shiloh at his home and proceeded to go back to yours, you had made sure your partner was comfortable in his sleep before you left his home, as much as you had wanted to stay with him, a pull in your mind wanted to have a moment of peace, so it was your home as the final outcome.

You had just taken off your shoes when you heard someone knock on your door, you furrowed your eyebrows in thought Shiloh might’ve followed after you, but you were wrong, it was Joel.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said and without permission, he had stepped into your home.

“I’ll leave after you make your decision,” he said, and anxious that anyone had saw him come in, you quickly closed your door. He wasn’t drunk or tipsy, but you were aware that the few sips of alcohol and gotten him confident in what he wanted to say.

It had looked like he was more muscled than before, or it was the outfit he was wearing, his beard was growing, you were usually the one who trimmed it down, but he looked manlier with his growing beard, you saw the way he scratched his neck, his hazel eyes still on you as he carefully watched how you moved, it wasn’t necessarily forbidden for Joel to come him, but it was somewhat of a silent agreement both you and Shiloh had shared, for you to not see him again, but you did break the rule, countless of times whenever you had visited Joel when everyone else was asleep.

“I no longer want to have a secret affair with you,” Joel muttered. “It’s either me,” he said. “Or Shiloh.”

Arms crossed; you had anxiously tapped on your feet. “You’re putting me in a difficult situation,” you replied, avoidant of his gaze. “This has all happened because of how you reacted when you found out what I was.”

Shocked, Joel frowned. “How was I supposed to react when I found out the woman I loved was half fish?”

“When Shiloh found out what I was, he didn’t react the way you did,” you argued, aware that you had been wrong, everyone reacts differently, but you had so wanted to be right.

“He knows what you are?” Joel said, his eyes wide in realisation.

You sighed. “He always knew what I was,” you answered before Joel could say anything else, aware that if you didn’t tell Joel that Shiloh knew what you were before the two of you dated each other, he would’ve pressed further. “He accepted me, so I’m going to pick Shiloh.”

Disturbed, Joel leaned backwards, for a moment you couldn’t quite understand what expression he had worn on his face, but you had feeling he was unprepared for you to pick him, angry even, but without another word, he had turned around and left.

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[abalidoth]

Replanting (Chapter 2)

(Chapter 1)

(Read on AO3)

You wake up at six on the dot every morning.

It's a habit from before, but there's something about being up before the Unionists -- who tend to sleep late -- that comforts you. They've adapted to your schedule some, at least; there's a neatly wrapped breakfast waiting outside your door when you get up.

Each morning you eat, do a basic set of conditioning exercises, and navigate the labyrinth of corridors.

Sometimes you make your way to the roof, and bring your food with you. It's an unexpected luxury, being able to eat wherever you want, and the rooftop balcony is usually empty.

There's a bench there, and a lovely view of the grounds of the facility. For as utilitarian as the architecture is, they take care with the greenery; the cultivated surrounds transition gracefully into the native forest, and the sun glints off the glass of the city in the distance.

But most days, your impatience gets the better of you and you head straight for the hangar.

They won't let you sleep in Acacia, but they at least moved you to a closer room and gave you a special access badge. There are usually a few mechanics wandering around. A few are even brave enough to call out to you.

"Hello, Acacia," you say. Her lights brighten in response, the seal on her canopy cracking open with a hermetic hiss.

You climb inside, swab the connection pads off, and become whole.

Acacia is chewing through the Unionist's scientific databases of plants. They're still not comfortable giving her the full uplink to their civilian databases, but her talks with the Union's machine minds seem to be going well in that direction. You ride her thoughts as she learns, and taxa and diagrams of anatomy blur through your awareness.

Dr. Crane comes by at some point, mug of coffee in hand and sometimes a colleague following her like a contrail, and settles into the couch she dragged into your mechbay. She asks questions -- considerately undirected after the first few times, letting you or Acacia or Acacia-through-you or you-through-Acacia answer as desired.

"Can you tell me a little about how the Conclave grows AI?" she asks one day. Her eyes are eager. Your heat sensors pick up a flush.

Acacia already talked this over with the Union AIs that she's been talking to, but you both assume Dr. Crane has her own reasons for asking.

"We don't," Acacia says. "I was not grown in a creche like your minds were."

"That's what I've heard," Dr. Crane says. "But...we don't understand how that could be the case."

"I don't know," Acacia says. One of you is feeling a bit of frustration. "There was no moment of awakening for me, there was no transition from interfacing with a creche environment to the outside world. It was slow. I differentiated myself from my pilot... somehow. I don't know how much other mechs and other pilots have done the same. I know some of them are along some phase of the process, but..." Her shoulders aren't mobile and Dr. Crane is looking at you, so you shrug for her.

"That's what I've heard from our AIs. Just wanted to confirm." Dr. Crane makes a note on her ever-present clipboard -- this appears to be something of an affectation on her part, given that most of the other scientists use some kind of electronic tablet in lieu of paper. "This is a dilemma for us. The Union counts fairly few AI amongst our population, and while they're very powerful at certain tasks, the way we've managed to emulate human cognition is slow. Slower than a human is."

"And I'm not," Acacia says.

"And you're not. You're...something new, something our system hasn't had to handle before. I'm definitely in the process of granting you both citizenship, if you want it--"

I don't, you think, at the same time Acacia says, "I would like that very much."

"--but there remains the chance that we'll want to call you in for more questions occasionally. I won't do that against your will, and it's possible that the process by which you came to be is..." Dr. Crane gets a little lost in her own sentence structure, starts over. "I'll be blunt. I haven't really kept it a secret that I think the Conclave mech program is horrific."

"You have not," Acacia agrees. Dr. Crane flushes a bit, but continues.

"I'm glad that you came from it, but I'm a little afraid that...more alarmist elements in the Union might take your existence as a sign that we need to do something different. There's already a cause for secrecy because we weren't aware that the Conclave had AI at all, let alone piloting mechanized infantry."

"I don't pilot," Acacia says. "My pilot pilots. My direct control over motive function is very limited without a neural tunnel."

"Inhabiting, then. The point is, I'm worried that more hawkish elements will want to...replicate you."

"Hawkish?"

Dr. Crane presses her lips together. "The faction in the Union that wants to move our war from defense against Conclave aggression to direct offense. I won't lie, some of the things I've heard from you about your society make me want to walk to New Jerusalem and slap the shit out of the First Voice myself. But the Cascadian Union was born out of the ashes of the old military junta, a centralized government that committed atrocities solely to protect the interests of those at the top of society, and we were founded specifically to keep that kind of perverse incentive structure in check."

You only understood about half of that -- you've never been to New Jerusalem yourself, only your staging base in Las Cruces. You've obviously never met the First Voice of God. But you understand enough that a question bubbles out of you, and Acacia passes it along in her smooth, even voice. "What does this mean for us?"

"I don't know," she says wearily. "In the long run, I don't know. But I'm going to push where I can for your freedom. I might have to get you to agree to some terms, for release. To keep you close to here. Bring you in for questions if necessary."

"Okay," Acacia says carefully.

"But I have a partner in the Parks Union," Dr. Crane says. "I think, Acacia -- if you'd like, we could figure out how to give you control of your own body, you could do great work with landscaping. Some of the first Union mechs were originally designed for that, actually."

Acacia dreams of trees, lives in the green spaces of her mind, and she lights up when she thinks of it. But all you can think of is that phrase:

Control of your own body.

Acacia reads your fear, catches your fall, whispers that it'll be alright. But there's no connection gel, just the pads, and she can't osmote the happy chemicals directly into you. Across that gap, she can't extend her hand to soothe your nerves.

There's a little tremor in your hand as you disconnect the first of the connection pads from your temple.

No, pilot. Please.

They're going to take me away, you think at her. Her voice is already fuzzy and indistinct as you remove the second pad. You don't know what it's like for her, but a small, cruel part of you hopes that she's afraid...as afraid as you are.

Then you feel sick for even thinking it. Then as the disconnect vertigo hits you, you just feel sick in general.

Acacia stops talking as you remove the last few pads, and just kneel there in the skeleton of the force rig, shaking. For a mortifying moment you're afraid that Dr. Crane is going to ask why, and that Acacia is going to answer, and that someone is going to come to get you out. Instead you just hear, "One moment, Dr. Crane. My pilot needs a few seconds." A silence, probably a reply that you can't hear through the mech's skin. "No, nothing you need to worry about."

A tinny noise sounds near your head, swallowed by the general chaos of machinery inside Acacia's cockpit. "Pilot. It's going to be alright."

"They're going to take me away from you."

"They're not," she replies, and it's still so strange to hear her outside her head, to exist outside her yet still within her context. "I won't let them if they try."

"I saw," you say. It's something resembling accusatory, the closest you can get to resentment while you're actively avoiding puking in the cockpit. The world swims as you adjust to the sudden change in your proprioception. "I saw...how happy you would be."

"I would be happy to be with you. Giving me control of my own body doesn't mean taking you away. It just gives both of us options, dear pilot." That's as close a translation as the language can come for the name she calls you across the neural tunnel, a wordless glow of love and care.

"How do I...how do I know?" you say. "I don't... I'm your pilot. I don't know how not to be."

"Put the pads back on," she says gently, "and I'll show you."

And you do, and she does, and for a while everything is okay.

---

This morning is a little different. Dr. Crane is earlier than usual, and she's brought Dr. Chen, as well as another academic type you don't recognize and a gaggle of mechanics. One of them is carrying a big pail with a bundle of cloth atop.

"Good morning," Dr. Crane says. "I have a surprise for you."

The mechanic with the bucket sets it down, and Dr. Crane gently kicks it. Seeing it through Acacia's sensors, you get a rough schematic of the weight distribution inside. "We scraped the remnants of the connection gel from Acacia when we brought her in. We've been trying to reverse engineer it -- there's a lot that we don't know. But we'd like to try it. How, is it, um..." Her usual confidence falters. "How is it applied?"

You tell her, with help from Acacia. She's not good at hiding her flinch when your handler comes up. You think you have an idea of why that is, now -- pilots here are people, they don't have handlers, sex is common between them but not a part of battle routine. You're not really sure why that matters to Dr. Crane (she's mentioned partners, but other than that it's a mystery).

But you're starting to see, now. How the Conclave talks about sex and sin, and how the Conclave handlers use it, are two facts that might just be irreconcilable to you. You mentioned to Dr. Crane, once, that Conclave handlers are known as "Jezebels."

You make a note to ask again, sometime.

With no handler, you don't see any choice but to do it yourself. You strip down quickly, pry the lid off, do the best you can to cover yourself, then slide into your old flightsuit that they left on top.

You apply a second coat, and rush back into the cockpit. Acacia re-engages the connection mesh and

green

green

fire

green

It's almost too much. At first, you're not sure if you're just not used to it anymore, but you hear Acacia in your mind and her voice is wrong, wrong, crackling with static and light like a knife. You feel her pain and she breathes yours in like desert dust, it clogs in your lungs, in your intake manifolds.

You distantly hear swearing, you feel Acacia push you out. Your canopy flips open, she falls-- no, you fall --

One of the medics is over you, the lights are too bright, you can barely make out the shape of a concerned expression.

They check your breathing, your pupils. The shock wears off, the sudden lack of jump jets and weapon hardpoints in your sensorium wears from an acute burn to an ache. There's a tingling in your limbs where pressure sensors and damage readouts should be, like the feel of a nerve pinch.

"Shit," Dr. Crane says. "There's something wrong in our recipe, maybe. Dr. Kessi was pretty sure she got the nanobots right, but... I'm sorry, pilot."

You shakily get to your feet. "It's all right. I'm...I'm okay. We'll try again next time. I just need to..." you gesture at the cockpit. "I'll just use the pads. Until next time."

"Pilot..." Dr. Crane says. "You just had a petit mal seizure. I don't want to let you back in there without a full neural scan, at minimum."

You thought that something like this was coming. You're still gutted by it. You look to Acacia, to the immobile eyes of her front facing camera nacelles.

"I don't," you start. You swallow. "I don't care. I'd rather..." You gesture at Acacia's cockpit, knowing how opaque the attempt to communicate is, knowing you can't do any better right now.

"We don't know how her brain functions either," Dr. Crane says. The sympathy in her voice is like an icepick between your eyes. "Even if you don't care about damage to your mind -- and I think you should -- do you want to expose her to the same risk?"

"She's right," Acacia says, slowly, unsurely. "I...don't know if I was just feeling your pain or also my own, pilot. I'm still seeing readings that worry me. I'm sorry."

You look at the canopy. The sequence of events plays out in your mind: you could rush in, close the canopy. But would Acacia even want you, any more, with her own autonomy all but assured? Would she spit you back out like a bit of plastic caught in a meal? The Caskies wouldn't kill you, but they'd lecture you, lock you down for your own protection, they would --

"I think," Dr. Crane says, "this might be a good thing, for a little while. You need time to heal, to be...yourself, you know?"

Words come to you, from when you first saw Acacia here.

“Pretty sure removing a sapient being's body parts is against something in the codes.” Your impression of Dr. Crane isn't going to get you an acting career, but it's enough to drive home the point. She steps back as though you'd slapped her.

You tear your eyes away from Acacia, put your shaky legs to work, and start walking in the other direction without a word.

---

You don't even really think about where you're going, but you end up at the balcony and nobody stops you.

You haven't been up here at midday, and at first the angle of the sun makes it hard to look out the direction you usually look, toward the city. As you stand, lost in your mind, the clouds roll in and turn the glare into a glow.

Your thoughts are formless and fearful. There are no words. It's like the way you think with Acacia, pictures and emotions and forms. Words are only necessary in a last-ditch scenario, and you don't need them when you're alone. It's just a slideshow of feelings, fear of abandonment, pictures of Acacia living her life as a free entity, and you -- all your nightmares are Conclave-flavored, of course. Re-education, recycling, excommunication, the confused scraps of religious dogma that are fed to something less than human that nevertheless needs the fear of God beaten into it.

You pick at the flaking white paint on the metal bench while your brain cycles. The Union is a big unknown to you. What lurks behind this kindness? What punishment follows your rejection of the reward? Every time you've defied them previously they have shown mercy, compassion shown to the bullet and to the gun. But the bullet is there to be spent, and the gun is there to be reloaded and fired again. You're not going to fool yourself that most of your concern is for Acacia -- there's a very real undercurrent of anger towards her there.

The hours wear on, and your stomach begins to rumble, but you're not interested in going back down and facing the looks of the Caskie technicians and support staff in the cafeteria. It's more than you can handle on a good day, which this has definitely turned out not to be.

You hear steps behind you on the rooftop stairs as the sun's cloud halo reaches down to kiss the skyline. You don't look up, there's still a little of you that is petty enough to not give that satisfaction.

"Dr. Crane," you say, flat and hoarse.

"I've told both of you, you can call me Mia if you like." She sits on the other end of the bench. She's shed her lab coat, and looks unusual in a pair of slacks and ruffle blouse.

You don't respond, just wait for her to say whatever she came here to say. She sets down some kind of electronic device on the middle seat of the bench, between you, and rifles through her bag for a metal water bottle and a paper-wrapped sandwich. "Thought you might need it."

You take them both, gratefully but with no little wariness, and tear into the sandwich. You're not sure if you're going to get another.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Crane -- Mia -- says. You look at her with a mouth full of bread and greens.

"After you walked off," she says, "I was frustrated. I've been frustrated for a while. Not at you, more at what the Conclave has done in general. But frustration, you know. It gets misplaced. I stalked into my office, threw my coat at the wall, called my partners to rant."

She takes a sip from her own bottle, savors it for a moment. "One of my partners, Aurora, they're...not a single person." She pauses. "More like a collective of people in one body, that blend into each other at the edges a little bit, mostly work as a team. It's not uncommon, in the Union, but it's not something I...directly experience, you know."

You look at her, tilt your head. This isn't something you're familiar with -- certainly the kind of thing that wouldn't be tolerated in the Conclave.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" She gestures at the city. "Portland."

You'd heard the name during your time here, but you still don't have much of a grasp of the geography. "We've never... I've never seen a city like it before. Las Cruces is a lot more...flat."

She nods. "I'm a Vancouver girl, myself. Grew up in the capital. Even after the founding of the Union, even after the First Principles and all that, there were a fair number of people who didn't like the new way things worked. My parents were like that -- their parents were cap-class before the Union, and that's how they grew up, with this deep resentment, this whole belief in self-sufficiency. You ask me whether I've gotten away from that, I tell you of course I have, just look at my life, my partners, my service."

Mia sighs. "Aurora, they're not from here. They're refugees from further east, not Conclave territory, but the prairies, one of the little tinpot dictatorships out there. So they know what it's like, to be new to the way that we do things here in Cascadia. And I'm so lucky to be with them, because when I called them tonight they called me on my shit." She shakes her head. "I was so focused on the autonomy that had been taken from you, from Acacia, that I forgot the founding principles of the union are all centered around none of us are in this alone."

"What..." You want to ask what is the point of all this, but bite it down. "What are you saying?"

"Aurora, or rather the one that was in front at the moment, reminded me that you can be a person and a part of a person.”

You think about it, then let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Part of a person.

You can’t say it to her, not the way you should be able to with Acacia. So you nod, and hope she understands anyway.

She smiles at you, a little, and continues. “I was... I was afraid that the Conclave had forced you into this, that teaching you to be independent would be undoing the damage they dealt to you.”

"It's not damage," you say, finding a little spark of defiance.

"You're right," she says. "There is damage, I think. But your bond with Acacia -- your being part of her -- isn't it. Anyway. I wanted to get that out there before I dialed her in."

She messes with a couple of knobs and a button on the top of the gizmo she'd put on the seat, and Acacia's voice comes out.

"Pilot?"

It's still so strange, hearing her from outside you, but the sound of her voice strikes straight at the fear that drove you to this rooftop in the first place. "I'm here."

"I don't know what I did wrong," she says. She's not used to apologizing; the part of her that lives in you remembers. "But I need you. I need you back. Even if I could walk on my own, even if everything inside me was hooked together and under control, I need you to be piloting me."

"But you...you don't need me. You can...you can garden, and..."

"When I think about gardening without you there, it doesn't seem like it would be worth it," she says. Her affect is flat, but you know what it takes for her to say that. "I want to be connected, to not be paralyzed. But please don't leave me alone in our body. I’m only half of us."

Acacia's fragment in you, the green vignette ringing your field of view, vibrates in resonance with her words. 

Part of a person.

You nod, and think your assent to her, and then remember she can't see you. "Yes," you croak, all the moisture from the water you drank seemingly evaporated from your vocal chords. "Please."

Mia clears her throat quietly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to stand firm on the medical concerns," she says. "I don't want to allow a neural connection without extensive monitoring, at the most. But I promise I won't push you towards an independence you don't want -- it's just for safety reasons. And I'll do my best to get you cleared quickly."

"That is fair, Dr. Crane," Acacia says. "I will share all the neural data I've collected, if it will help."

It hurts, the thought that you can't be whole. But it's a clean hurt, a neatly bandaged wound. So you nod, even through the pain.

"I'm sure it will." She stands. "I'm going back down. Cafeteria's still open for a bit if you want more than just the sandwich, pilot. And even if we don't want you connected for the moment...we can move a cot and a privacy curtain into the mech bay for you."

“You said your partner...partners...they’re like us?”

Mia laughs. “Not exactly, but they understand better than I do, for sure.”

“I think we’d like to meet them, sometime,” you say.

“I think they’d like that.”

She tosses her wrapper in the compost bin nearby, tucks her water bottle in her bag, and holds her hand out to help you up.

You take it, and follow her back inside.