#harriet is just always being thrown on

[janedances]

the devil works hard, but the uk tour alts work harder

[athenamikaelson]

Complaints and Harriet Styles Pt. 2

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Warnings- strong language, innuendos, mentions of blood and death.

Word count- 2.5k 

 “Would it make me a bad person if I said he was hot?’ I asked Caroline as I sat in front of her vanity mirror as she curled my hair.  

“Y/n,” Caroline frowned at me as she looked at me through the mirror, “he either killed or is trying to kill our friends. He’s a bad guy, so don’t even think about it.” 

“I’m not saying I want to bang the guy or anything,” As I say that the the thought crosses my mind and it’s clear Caroline knows that as well as her frown deepens, “Care don’t get your Barbie hair in a twist. Even though his accent is dreamy and his blue eyes make my knees shake. I’m not going to try anything, obviously.” I say mockingly as Caroline watches me as if she’s somehow aged 100 years since our conversation began. Which you know isn’t possible because she’s literally immortal. 

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. You’re either arguing with someone or hitting on them. Or even both!” She says as she throws her hands up in emphasis, the curler unplugging itself during her action. 

We both sit there in silence for a moment looking at the curler’s wire. I look up at her with a sly smile, “Does this mean we’re finally done? My ass hurts from sitting here and being your personal doll.” Caroline puts her hand on her hip with a displeased look on her face. 

“I haven’t finished curling the other half of your head, so turn around and shut it. And didn’t you just say I was the Barbie doll?” She says matter-of-factly as she replugs in the curler and waits for it to heat back up. 

“Ok well you are a Barbie doll, I’m more like that doll that Angelica had in Rugrats, y’know the one with fucked up hair and looks like she just got thrown into a blender.” I laugh at my own joke as Caroline rolls her eyes, a smile trying to make its way onto her face. 

I glance at my dark eyeshadow that makes my y/e/c eyes bright. 

“Why do I even have to go to this stupid dance, our school has like 14 a year. How does our town even have the budget for that? And why do we have to do weird decade dances?” 

“Y/N you’re going to homecoming, end of story. It’s our senior year. This past year has been so crazy that we deserve a little normalcy.” She says as she finishes my last section of hair. 

“Normalcy? You do realize that every dance we’ve had since last year has ended with someone dead or impaled right? It isn’t a Mystic Falls high school dance if it doesn’t end in blood!” Caroline just watches me in annoyance as she sprays my hair with hairspray, “accidentally” spraying some into my face.

“Bitch!” I cough out.

“Go get dressed!” She uses her strength to lift me up and push me over to her closet where my y/f/c dress is hanging.

I look over my shoulder, “I hate you.” 

Caroline smiles, “Love you too brat.”

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

I listen to the live band as I sip on the disgusting drink in my hand. Caroline who was supposed to chaperone tonight left me to go yell at Tyler for his wolfy crush or whatever on Klaus. I’m seriously debating on just walking myself home, since Caroline was my ride, as I watch on in disgust as teenagers grind against each other to the fast song the band is playing in the backyard of Tyler’s house. Somehow Tyler was able to put together a huge party since the gym was flooded last minute. Caroline didn’t seem suspicious but I on the other hand always think the worst is going to happen at any time, and with my friend group's history with dances I wouldn’t be surprised if something was going to go down tonight. I'm about to grab my bag and leave before shit goes down when I hear a British accent come from behind me. 

“Welcome everyone tonight,” I turn around, and low and behold that British fuck from Senior prank night is standing up on the stage in front of all of us, yapping about something. 

“This is a long time coming,” He says as he watches someone from the crowd with a smirk on his face. I follow his eye line to see Stefan staring back at him. Yikes. I look back to the Brit but find his eyes staring in my direction. I don’t think he’s looking at me until I send a look of disgust at him which makes the smirk on his face deepen. Fuck me. Wait. No. I quickly turn around and start to make my way to the edge of the party hoping to make my escape before I get sucked into whatever bullshit the Scooby gang is going to try to drag me into. I smile to myself as I’m about to be successful in my escape as my vision is blocked by something. Said something bumps me backwards throwing me off balance and I wait to hit the ground as I start falling, but nothing comes. I look up to see Klaus grabbing ahold of the top of my arm, keeping me from falling down.  

“What a fucking cliche,” I say to myself angrily. Klaus looks at me inquisitively. 

“What’s a cliche?” He asks me with that stupidly hot accent as I rip my arm away from his hold and put another foot's distance between us.

“You catching me,” I tell him but he only looks confused, “Y’know in romcoms when the girl trips and falls but doesn’t actually fall because the random hot main guy catches her. It’s a big fucking cliche.” I say huffing as Klaus watches me with that stupid fucking smirk on his face.

“And I’m the main hot guy?” He asks, clearly trying to get me to go along with his current ego trip.

“No, you’re not. Ryan Gosling is the hot main guy or Paul Rudd,” I let out a satisfactory sigh at Paul Rudd, “You’re more of the evil boos villain in video games.” 

“And what’s so wrong with being the villain?” He asks me as he takes a step towards me. 

I look at him with what I can only guess looks like a “are you fucking kidding me” look. 

“Literally everything. That’s literally the whole point of being the villain.” I put my hand out stopping him from stepping closer. Klaus watches me closely for a second too long. His gaze makes me quite uncomfortable because I can’t tell if he wants to kill me for speaking to him like I just did or applaud me for having the balls to. God, sometimes I just need to learn to shut the fuck up. 

“Dance with me.” He states as he puts his hand out waiting for me to give him my hand in return. My gaze goes from his face to his hand multiple times before I shake my head in annoyance. 

“No way dude,” I say as I start to book it back towards the house away from him. I don’t get far though because he’s in front of me again with a determined look on his stupidly hot face. God why does it always have to be the bad guys that are hot? 

“Either you dance with me, or I start killing your friends off one by one. I wonder where that blond friend of yours is, Tyler’s little girlfriend.” He says with a dark glint in his eyes. 

“Why?” I try to hold my ground even though I’m pretty sure I’m about to start pissing myself any second now. 

“Why what?” he asks me as he watches me.

“Why do you want to dance with me? Theirs like 200 other girls here that I’m sure would just jump at the chance to dance with some British guy.”

Klaus just shrugs his shoulder as if he himself doesn’t even have an answer to the question. 

“Because none of them have had the displeasure of catching my eye.” 

“And let me guess, I have?” I ask him. He doesn’t give me an answer though, only reaches out his hand once again waiting for me to take it. Annoyed I slap my hand in his and drag him to the dance floor. Once I push us into the middle of a big group, I turn to him.

“Don’t be pissy if I step on your toes.” Klaus just lets out a huff of a laugh as he drags my body closer to him so my chest is touching his. A shudder goes through my body at the contact and I mentally curse myself for the reaction. Fuck he smells good. Jesus Y/N get a grip, he’s just a guy. A thousand-year-old hot guy, but still just a guy. I look up to find Klaus already staring at me, with a knowing smirk on his face. I just roll my eyes as I try to play it off cool as he sways me to the now slow song.

“So tell me, how did you become friends with my doppelganger and her little group of followers?” A weird feeling of sadness flows through me at his question as I realize he only asked me to dance for information on my friends. 

“We grew up together. Small town like this everyone knows each other, sadly.” I say looking off to the distance and watching the other couples converse lovingly with one another. 

“Why sadly?” He asks me, and for a second I could’ve sworn I heard actual curiosity. I glance back at him and shrug. 

“I just hate this town. I never liked people knowing my business, and everyone here is so complacent with their normal lives. They never question anything or want to know more about anything other than what happens in our weird ass town.” I blush as I realize I just rambled on to a complete psycho about my feelings. But, the look on Klaus’s face isn’t one of annoyance or humor like the other people I’ve vented to usually have on their faces. His face turns from contemplation to understanding. 

“I know what you mean,” He says as he expertly twirls me around, “when I was a boy I grew up in a small village where the wasn’t much chance for prospering. I loved the arts and knew I would never be able to do anything with it. It made me angry. So I can understand your resentment.” He tells me and for a second I forget that he’s the blood-thirsty monster ruining my friend’s lives. 

“You like art?” He looks down at me with a soft smile as if the subject brings out a different side of him. 

“I’ve loved it for over a thousand years. The way emotions can be shown through a canvas and bring out emotion so foreign is unlike anything else I found over a millennium of living,” His eyes trail down to mine, “What do you think?” 

I nod softly in agreement, “I love art. Not really painting because I’m kind of shit at it, but sketching and just looking at art. Although I’m not a fan of this new-age art where someone can splash a canvas with a line of color and sell it for a million dollars. I like art that means something to someone. Art that when you look at it you can feel the emotions that the artist was feeling, every move of the brush stroke made with heart and emotion.” Klaus nods along to my rambling again with a soft look on his face. A look that I can’t quite decipher since it’s on the face of one of the scariest men in the world. 

As the song comes to an end I reluctantly let go of Klaus’s hands. He stares at me for a moment and I think he’s just going to turn around and walk off realizing he didn’t get the information he wanted but then a small laugh escapes his lips and he shakes his head. I watch on in slight confusion wondering if he’s having some kind of stroke or something. 

“You’re not like them you know,” he must notice my confusion because he continues, “like your friends. You’re nothing like them.” I pang of hurt pierces my chest as I turn away and start to walk off, “Well screw you too.” 

“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” He says hastily as he grabs my arm turning me back towards him, “You’re friends they’re small-minded. They think of only themselves and not the world around them, or how amazing it can be.” I go to interrupt him and tell him not to insult my friends but he cuts me off. 

“You need something bigger than this little town. Something that brings you life. When I originally saw you that night in the gym I thought you were just going to be like the rest of them. But you surprised me Y/n, and not many people can say that.” 

I just stare at him in amazement for what seems like forever as I try to piece together everything he just told me. In my stupor though a woman approaches Klaus and whispers something to him which makes his originally light demeanor change to something dark. The woman walks away as Klaus looks at me once more.

“Whenever you decide you want to be a part of something bigger, see something other than this little town I’d be happy to show you. All you need to do is ask.” He tells me as he grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I still can't get the balls to say anything as he gives me one last glance before he follows behind the woman. 

What the actual fuck.

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

I walked up to my front porch after getting dropped off by Matt because I guess Tyler drugged Caroline with vervain to save her from a pack of mind-controlled hybrids so that’s why she couldn’t bring me home. Sometimes I really hate my friend group. Why can’t for once we deal with normal people's problems like pop quizzes or acne? Like why does not one person in that entire group have a pimple on their skin? That’s the most supernatural thing going on here.

I’m about to open my front door when a small envelope catches my eye at the bottom of my feet. I look over my shoulder and only see Matt as he waits for me to enter my house. I wave to him with the envelope in hand and walk inside my house. I hastily open the envelope and pull out a piece of thick canvas paper. The paper is covered with a beautiful sketch of what appears to be an open field covered in flowers with grazing horses in the distance. Being so engrossed in the sketch I didn't notice the small note on the back. 

“There’s a whole world out there just waiting for you to experience, love. When you’re ready to experience it, I’ll be waiting.” – Klaus

Taglist-

@grac3aph3lion @megmcc2003 @kollover24 @nameunknownsthings

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hellooo how about a Minho x she/her reader where Minho has been hit by the lightning and hs the scars and one day Reader walks on Minho being half naked and she traces his scars and theres tension building up ;) THANK YOU

I love lightning scars Minho so absolutely.

This is a relatively new request, but I'm trying to get some of the easier ones done since I'm currently away.

And I just liked this idea.

SPARKS

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. After TDC in the Safe Haven. You're a Right Arm member because I just like the idea.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice, typical dumb horny teenage bullshit. That's it, really.

You're a member of the Right Arm.

You're not high-ranking or necessarily special. You just ended up tagging along after Vince came through the refugee camp you were staying at.

But that doesn't mean you don't do anything. You're bold and forward, and you went through life-risking measures to help WICKED's Subjects escape.

Because, well, everyone did.

That doesn't matter now, though. They're safe, you're safe - everyone is safe and everything is okay.

Well, kind of.

Trauma doesn't just vanish. But, people are getting on with their lives.

And so are you.

You've ended up befriending some of the Gladers. Originally, you were friends with Harriet and Sonya since they'd been around a while - and they introduced you to the boys. So, you've got your own little friendship group now.

You're particularly close to Frypan and have some friendly competition with Gally. But you like them all the same.

Well...

Almost.

You don't know what it is about Minho that has you in such a chokehold. Sure, maybe if you were some innocent girl from a Maze who didn't know how to act around boys, it would make sense. But you're not.

You've survived the Scorch and the land outside of the remainder of society. It's not like Minho is the first person you've ever been attracted to either. So, why does he make you feel like this?

Apart from the fact he is undeniably attractive.

You figure it's just dumb surface level physical attraction. And with nothing else better to do, you decide to test the waters a bit.

Glancing at him across the table as the bonfire dances and his friends chat, often meeting each other's gaze. He holds it longer than he should. He always does.

Always standing or sitting next to him; your arms or your knees brushing as neither of you make any effort to grow the distance between you.

Playful inside jokes that often have subtle suggestive undertones. Normally, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it style that the other Gladers brush off or don't notice. This results in Minho smirking into his chosen beverage, drinking up your figure out of the corner of his eye.

It goes on like this for a while; just being in the same friend group with some subtle flirtations going on. It's actually kind of fun and a much needed way to relax.

But it doesn't actually go much further than that. And you're fine with that.

For a while.

The jokes start becoming more explicit. The eye contact becoming less subtle. The closeness becoming drunken dancing instead of just standing together.

People are starting to notice.

The dumb attraction is starting to become actual feelings. He's brave and strong and funny and everything you want - and it's just making the sexual tension thicker.

God - it's getting bad. Anyone and everyone in a room with you two would be able to feel it.

The Gladers often tease Minho about it, talking about how he's one wrong move away from ripping your clothes off and cracking where he stands.

It's taking a lot of resilience from the both of you. Especially since you're both stubborn - it's become a silent game of who will crumble first.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You're currently sorting out bedding and hauling different types of sleeping arrangements around camp. With Gally being put in charge of the Builders now, the huts are being thrown up like there's no tomorrow.

The Gladers and other Maze Subjects got the first available buildings, along with high up Right Arm members. You don't really mind, to be fair, you enjoy the hammocks and are happy to help the Gladers.

But as Thomas shouts you, you groan, turning around, blankets threatening to spill out of your hold. "Hey, Thomas. You good?"

"Yeah," something seems off about him as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, "I know you're already busy, but could you check on Minho for me?"

"Huh?" You tilt your head, concern immediately setting in. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Uh," Thomas did not think this far ahead of his dumb plan. "Well, we just haven't seen him all day - seems kinda down. Figured you'd be the best person to speak to him."

This perplexes you. "Why me? You guys are closer."

And you could've sworn you'd seen Gally and Minho shoving each other about earlier today. Though, maybe you're just mixing up your days.

"Yeah, but he likes you, so..." You pause, farrowing your brows. He likes you? In what context? Like you know that he likes you. But... like, more than just the dumb flirting?

You shake it off. "Alright, gimme a second."

You dump the bedding off where it needs to be and make a beeline for Minho's hut.

Little do you know that Minho has just gotten out of the shower - and is completely fine. Thomas and Frypan decided they'd had enough of enduring the tension between you and this is the result that.

Reaching the door, it's slightly ajar, and in your concerned state, you, for some reason, decide not to knock.

"Hey, Minho, are you-?" You push open the door and immediately freeze.

Well, shit.

Minho stands with his back to you, loose sweatpants hanging off of his hips and he's without a shirt. He rubs his hair with a towel, freezing at your voice and turning slightly to look at you.

Which would be less awkward if you weren't in some kind of trance.

Minho is tall and muscular, and he doesn't have to be half naked for you to be aware of that. But, that's not what's stands out.

All over his upper body, mainly populating his back, are pinkish lines. They travel down his spine and split like webs across his back, some whisps creeping across his sides and grazing his front.

"You just gonna stare or ask me about it?" Minho says after a good few seconds pass.

What do you even ask?

"Uh, what... why..?" You trail off and Minho raises his eyebrow before scoffing.

"I got hit by lightning." He states matter-of-factly. "Ended up giving me some scars."

"When did that happen?"

"Out in the Scorch, just before we met Brenda and Jorge."

"And you never mentioned this?"

"Well, it didn't seem like a big deal," he smirks. "And I'm kinda enjoying the look on your face."

This kind of snaps you back into reality. You're here for a reason.

You clear you throat, closing the door behind you for more privacy just in case the ex-Runner is on the verge of a meltdown. "Are you... alright?"

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Minho is growing more concerned by the second. What is happening here?

"Well, Thomas said that something was wrong and asked me to talk to you."

Minho scoffs, putting the dots together and slowly nodding his head before rubbing his face with his hands. "Did he, now? Shuckin' slinthead. I knew they were up to something."

"Huh?"

"They're messing with you - us, even."

"Huh? Why would- oh! Oh."

Ah. That makes more sense. And is mildly mortifying.

"Yeah." Minho shakes his head, turning away from you again as he mumbles to himself. "Sorry, my friends are dicks."

"It's uh, fine. It's fine."

Your gaze falls back on Minho's chiselled form. He's practically mouth-watering.

And it's not like this is weird. You've been pushing each other's boundaries since day one. This could be another opportunity to see how far you can take things. I mean, he would if this were the other way around. So, with a sudden peak in confidence, you walk over.

Minho chucks his towel on his bed. "So, are you-?"

Minho doesn't even get the chance to finish his question as electricity sparks through him. Again. This time, not because he's nearly dying, but because your fingers graze his back.

His entire body stills, his mind immediately becoming foggy, and the hair on his arms stands on end.

"Do they still hurt?" You ask, your gaze focused on his skin and your voice low.

You're gentle in your moments, letting your fingertips barely tickle his flesh. But with the immediate and tense reaction, you're reminded that Minho is about as touch-straved as someone can get.

He's just good at hiding it.

"Uh, no, not really. They kinda feel weird sometimes, and I was really buggin' out about them when I first noticed them. But I guess I had bigger klunk on my plate." He tries to maintain his composure, but his voice wavers at several points.

You bring your hand higher, dancing across his spine and between his shoulder blades.

"Why were you buggin' out?" You've grown somewhat used to the Glader way of speaking.

He hesitates for a second, physically jumping when your other hand joins in, using your thumb to rub circles and pull at the scars threating to escape to his middrift.

"Well, I uh- shit," he mumbles the cuss word, stepping back more and into your touch, letting his head fall back. "I just... they just look weird, yanno?"

"I think they look hot."

Okay, you're becoming very bold.

"Hm? You think I look hot?" He asks, half-looking over his shoulder at you, not wanting to fully turn around and lose the feeling.

"That's not what I said."

"That's what I'm askin'."

You blink at him, watching his lopsided smile creep across his face.

In a game of confidence - Minho will always win.

Which means trying to play it cool.

"I just think scars are interesting, they tell a story."

"Do you go around touching everyone's scars, then?" He cracks a wicked grin you can't see as he turns his head away again. "That might get you in a bit of trouble around here."

"Yeah, but not with you." It actually is genuinely fun tracing the patterns in his skin. You have one hand following one path and the other following a different one.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because you like it."

He peers at you again, his face suddenly serious and his tone lower than before. "You're really starting to push it, yanno that?"

"Push what?" You tilt your head, pretending to play innocent.

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you're just feeling me up because you think my scars are hot?" He scoffs. "That's what's happening here?"

You think for a second. Fuck it. "Yep."

"Well, there's more scars if you wanna touch them?"

Your eyes flicker to his face, letting your arms fall from his skin. He turns around, holding his hands behind his back, he rocks on his heels.

From his back, travelling to his front are smaller webs of the scarring. At first glance, you thought they only reached around his sides, but now you're realising there's thinner, less noticeable branches trailing across his abs.

He presses his lips into a thin line, almost like he's calling your bluff. Because this is the game you've been playing. Pushing each other. And you've pushed him so he's pushing you.

Though, this very well might end up being the breaking point.

Too stubborn to back down, your hand connects with his stomach area. He flinches, but very quickly relaxes again. You gently run your fingers across the lines and the curves of not only the remains of the electricity, but of just his body.

Your eyes flicker to his face as you expect him to make some cocky comment about how that's not a scar. But he doesn't. His eyes are fixated on your hand.

It's a feeling he's never really experienced before - watching someone enjoy him. Someone touch him with such care. With such want. Someone touching him like this at all is new.

And it's you.

You're the one touching him.

You.

And that's making it so much worse.

He doesn't make any effort to hide or stop the tightening sensation in his pants or the way his chest is rising and falling. His mind is falling into complete fog; he feels like he's taken something he probably shouldn't have.

You notice it, too.

"Minho-?"

"Shut up," he says almost immediately, eyes finally meeting yours. His pupils are wide and his eyelids heavy. "This... this isn't fair. You can't..."

He seems a strange mix of stressed and turned on.

"Okay, I'll stop," you pull your hand away, but he immediately grabs it, laying it flat against his middrift. "Minho?"

"Don't," he mumbles. "Don't stop." He can't look at you properly.

God, what's happening to him?

"Look," he continues, trying to gain some sort of clarity for a second. "If you're just messing around, that's fine, but leave now, okay? 'Cause this is getting cruel."

His words and the way he's acting is sending heat straight to your core. You step towards him, your faces inches apart.

"Are you caving, Minho?" Your voice is sultry as your hand slides further down his front.

"Are you?" He responds, leaning in further, your noses brush and you can feel his breath on your face.

"We can't keep doing this, yanno? One of us has to break eventually." You mumble, practically into his lips.

His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.

"Shuck it," his hands come to your waist, yanking you closer as he finally kisses you. You squeak from the force behind it as you throw you arms around his neck, clawing into his back to try and steady yourself.

It takes a matter of seconds for Minho to spin you around, pushing you onto the bed, both of you tangling together. Desperation sets in fairly quickly.

Minho's hands under your shirt as you try to pull it over your head. His lips on your neck and chest as he slips a hand under you, trying to yank your jeans down. You leave stains on his skin from your nails.

It's a blur of emotion and hormones.

Then Minho hesitates as he sits back. At first, you think he's just admiring you as you lay in your underwear, but there's something else.

"You good?" You ask, becoming concerned.

"You know we're not gonna be friends anymore if we do this, right? Like the flirting and klunk is fun, but this is different. We can't take this back. A-and I've never done this before. I don't wanna shuck up our friendship or make things weird."

You blink at him before sitting up. He watches you as you move onto your knees and kiss him again.

"I don't wanna be your damn friend, Minho. Take the hint."

It's like there's a light behind his eyes, a smile creeping across his face, but unlike his usual cocky smirk, it's soft and warm and genuine.

He pecks your lips. It's sweet and unusual for him. "You wanna be more than friends, then?"

"Yeah," you chuckle, "but I'm sure we can worry about that later. We're a bit busy right now." You wrap your arms around his neck again, lightly touching the scars on his back. He grins at you, connecting your lips again as he pushes you down.

He pulls away, his teeth brushing your ear lobe as he lets out a low chuckle.

"Sounds like a good plan."

Here ya go, another spicey Minho piece for y'all.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[lexosaurus]

Twelve Hours: Chapter 3

Part 3 of 5 of my fic for Ecto Implosion, the DP reverse mini-bang (artists go first, writers go second)

read on: [ao3]

[see all chapters]

Characters: Danny Fenton, Harriet Chin, GIW (mentioned a lot) Tags: Identity Reveal, Flashbacks, Runaway Danny Fenton, Angst WC: 4028 Summary: When the GIW revealed Danny to the world, the only thing he could do was run. Run and run and run until he escaped to Chicago, trying desperately to disappear. Too bad it didn’t work.

****

“I want to pivot now to the actual imprisonment, which you’ve been describing to the public as a captivity,” Harriet said.

Danny didn’t let his eyes flicker to the cameras. He knew that whatever he said next would have very few edits done to it in post-production. And he also heard the implied question, asking him to talk about it freely. 

This was his one chance to, after all. Never before had he been given the space to just talk so publicly about what happened to him.

What they did.

“I do call it captivity. Imprisonment would imply that I did something bad. But I wasn’t arrested for anything that I did. I was only arrested for being who I am.”

“A halfa, or Phantom?” she pressed.

Danny shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter. It was illegal for me to be a halfa, but Phantom was the most commonly found ghost in Amity Park, and so I was their primary target. The more that I evaded the Ghost Investigation Ward and the police, the more of an enemy to the federal government I became.”

“And you don’t believe their targeting had anything to do with the destruction that ghosts often brought?”

Danny paused, taking a moment to remember that Harriet wasn’t against him. She was here to give him a chance. 

“My intentions were always to protect my community. Not all ghosts are after destruction, and most come to Earth harmlessly. But when the loudest tried to act up, I was there to stop them. And I was a kid—I mean, I wasn’t perfect, but I tried anyway. I thought if I kept showing the world that I was good, they would stop targeting me. But the Anti-Ecto laws didn’t let that happen. In the end, I got tortured anyway.”

“Tortured,” Harriet said, a full sentence. “That’s a heavy accusation.”

Here it was again. Another chance.

“It’s the truth.” Danny didn’t stop his hand when it went to rub his sternum this time. “They beat me, used electricity, drugged me, and—” His voice failed, a sudden swell of emotions threatening to overtake him.

Harriet didn’t look away. “And what?”

“And…”

His chest burned, and when he looked up, he saw the fluorescent lights staring down at him. His head was mounted in place by some metal piece, but that was good because it meant he couldn’t see what had become of his arm beside him. Also shackled, the cold table doing little to stifle the burning, burning, burning—

He blinked, and he was back in the warm interview room with the old carpet and white chairs. His throat was pinned shut, but he forced his jaw open anyway and choked out, “They cut into me while I was awake.”

“In court, they described what they did as an autopsy, stating that under federal law, you were declared legally dead and therefore it couldn’t be torture.”

Danny remembered when the “physicians” in the “operating room” in the GIW facility declared him dead. After they’d forced him into his Phantom form to stop his heart and lungs, of course.

“That’s what the Ghost Investigation Ward’s lawyers argued,” Danny said. “But death has to be irreversible. When I transform into a human, I can reactivate my circulatory system, so their argument was thrown out.”

It had been one of the few parts of his lawsuit he’d won, but arguably, it was the only one that mattered. The right to be declared alive. 

Because then, he could use that to argue that he didn’t fit the Anti-Ecto laws. He was alive, and therefore a citizen deserving of his constitutional rights.

Everything after that, they didn’t care about. No, not the destruction to his body, nor his mind. It wasn’t legally torture because he had been a ghost when the GIW toyed with him. It was for science, for defense. They hadn’t intended to harm him. No, they were just gathering research.

“Were you warned about what could happen in their facility before your arrest?” Harriet asked.

“Of course. They used to taunt me with it, back before they knew I was Phantom. They would show up after fights and try to kidnap me while telling me all about the painful experiments and methods of dismemberment they were going to put me through. That’s why the actual reveal was so terrifying. I knew, I knew what would happen if I was caught. And I knew there was a good chance that if I was captured, I would never see the sun again.”

“And yet, you stayed here on Earth instead of running to the Ghost Zone.”

Danny tapped his finger on his khakis. “Earth was all I ever knew.”

****

07:00:00

Danny stumbled into the subway. It was dim, even more so than he remembered from last summer with the clouds blocking the sunlight from the street. He also recalled the rank smell of piss trapped underground, but today it didn’t seem as bad. Likely the crisp November air helping out.

He would have to grow used to it, though. Just like he’d have to grow used to using his powers to feed himself, as he’d just practiced moments before.

The premade sandwich and plastic water bottle felt heavy in his hoodie pocket. But it was a weight he didn’t feel too remorseful over, either. It was necessary to keep him alive, and he was sure whichever chain grocery store he’d nicked it from would hardly miss one sandwich going missing.

With the cops seemingly somewhere else right now, someone had opened the emergency door beside the turnstiles to avoid paying the ticket fee. Although, he watched as another man planted his hands on either side of the turnstile and jumped over it. Danny would have to start doing that unless he wanted to risk suspicion with his intangibility powers.

But with the other door open and a few people slipping through it, Danny just joined that crowd, grabbing the door from the person before him, and letting it fall to the person behind him. 

Yes, he was just like any other normal human homeless kid. Nothing else going on.

He wasn’t sure why his heart still skipped a beat, though. Maybe because he’d been raised by parents who would have admonished him if they ever found out he refused to pay his fare to ride the Chicago subway. They were always sticklers for the rules in that sort of sense.

But he would get used to it, he was sure. Maybe by the end of the month, he wouldn’t so much as bat an eye over jumping over the turnstile like that other man did.

He wasn’t sure where to go. He supposed he should just get on a train and go. Maybe he could explore the city a little. Find somewhere to sleep tonight.

The thought of tonight weighed heavily in his mind. There was absolutely no way he could get into a shelter with the news so polluted with his face like it was. Surely, anyone managing shelters would have already been alerted of his runaway status.

And thus, the only option was the great outdoors. Not that he’d ever slept outside in a city before. 

He would just have to get used to this as well.

Next to him, a green sticker caught the corner of his eye, and his stomach sank as he turned to face the grisly green bald eagle logo with its wings stretched out behind it, appearing as if it were landing on the yellow United States of America text. Above the bird were the bold words reading GHOST INVESTIGATION WARD.

Even in the goddamn subway, he couldn’t escape them. He turned away, but that familiar depressive fog thickened. He tried to push beyond it. If he began to think, he might never stop, and that was perhaps more dangerous than anything else.

Someone shouldered past him, and Danny was once again reminded that he was standing in the middle of one of the major subway stations in Chicago with a choice to make. Where to go?

He thought about looking at a map, but what difference did that really make? What did it matter if he went north or south? Eventually, he was bound to see it all anyway. There was nothing else for him to do.

He heard the faint strumming of a guitar down one set of stairs. The tune sounded weirdly familiar, though he couldn’t place it. His head was too out of it for him to care.

No, no. It was fine. Don’t think.

As he descended the steps toward the music, he could make out a voice accompanying the guitar. Feminine, and smooth. He’d heard this voice before, he was sure of it, though it didn’t sound right. Was it too…delicate? Soft? 

He got to the bottom of the stairs and turned around, walking down the platform and closer to the voice. As he wove around the pillars, he began to make out distinct words, and that’s when it all clicked for him.

But of course, he still couldn’t believe it until he turned around the final pillar to see Ember herself strumming on her guitar in the middle of the subway. Her bushy teal hair was tied into a ponytail behind her, but instead of resembling fire, it followed the laws of gravity like any other human ponytail would. Her aura was also noticeably suppressed, making her black shirt and leather pants look darker without the constant light surrounding them. She didn’t have a tip jar out, but Danny wasn’t surprised. A real ghost like her would have little need for human currency. 

Instead, a small purple and blue sign with her social media handle written in the center stood before her. 

They locked eyes, and she grinned at him, though she didn’t stop singing. It wasn’t one of her songs; it was a cover of a rock band they both listened to.

Danny had never heard her sing a cover song before, but it was…nice. Soothing. He could still hear the original song in his mind with its heavy drums and near-constant crash symbols. But in the subway with nothing but a clean guitar and some vocals, it sounded almost like a lullaby. 

People rushed by in both directions, no doubt hurrying home to see their loved ones for dinner. Next to him, a mother and her son stopped, the young child staring up at Ember with sparkling eyes. He bounced up and down to her rhythm, and then he pivoted to face his mother, clasping her free hand.

She smiled and raised her arm so he could twirl under it properly like a ballroom dance. He squealed, hopped in excitement, and then did it again only slightly ahead of Ember’s beat.

As Danny watched them, Ember’s words about heartbreak and sadness seemed to melt away. Because here in the middle of a subway station was a child and his mother dancing and laughing as if they were the only two people in the universe.

Then, as quickly as Danny began to feel their joy, it evaporated from his skin. Because as the mother pressed her lips together to regard her child with eyes like the morning sun peaking over the hilltop, Danny realized he recognized that tenderness. And rather than the familiarity tapping his shoulder in polite introduction, it decided to stab his chest, exit his skin, and allow his blood to dispel from his body until the only thing left to feel was the gaping cavity where his heart should have been.

That look of care and love was the same look his mother used to give him as she smoothed his tangled hair against his head. It was the same look she gave when he first disassembled and reassembled his first gun, when he brought back his first A in school, when he and Jazz cooked dinner together for the first time.

It was a look he would never see again.

Whatever he was feeling, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he grabbed it by its spindly legs, shoved it back in its cage, and let the ice plug up the space where the hole in his chest was left to bleed.

He couldn’t afford to break down, to draw attention to himself. Not right now, not after he only just got here.

Ember finished the song and started another. And another. Other than her small grin and nod his way, she didn’t acknowledge Danny again. Not until the set was over anyway, by which point Danny had made himself comfortable on the ground next to her with his elbows resting on his raised knees, and his unwrapped sandwich mostly eaten in hand. The floor was dirty and this all probably made him look every bit the homeless kid that he was now, but for the first time all day, he didn’t care. He was here to listen to his friend and eat his lunch…dinner. Whatever thoughts the public had, they could keep to themselves.

“Thanks for listening, everybody! Be sure to check me out on social media! You can find me on everything under Ember McLain!”  

He waited patiently, not saying a word as she put her guitar back in its bag and strapped it to her back. Her microphone, amp, and the purple and blue blanket she had been standing on seemingly vanished into thin air one by one.

Danny didn’t have powers like that, the power to summon and dispel objects at will. Though, Ember had told him that her powers only worked for music-related items. If she needed something for a performance, the objects would appear. The more energy she had, the larger the object could be. At her height, she could turn an empty field into a full show setup with a stage, seating, and all. 

She’d once promised Danny that she would never try to hypnotize others with her music again. How it wasn’t true fame, true admiration. And while Danny wanted to believe her, ghosts were ageless, and memories only grew fickle with time.

When all her things were packed away and likely sent back to her lair, she rounded on him. 

Danny bounced a leg as he felt the weight of her eyes surveying him. He knew how awful he must have looked, even with some food finally in him. It didn’t help that—and he was sure she must have noticed—he was sitting under another angry GIW sticker.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you outside of your haunt,” Ember said.

Danny winced, glancing around. Thankfully, no one seemed to be eavesdropping. Still, he hissed, “Not so loud.”

“Then get off the ground, dipstick.”

Fair enough. 

“I had to,” he explained, pushing himself up. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but—”

“Oh, I’ve heard. Everyone’s heard, I’m pretty sure.” She glanced between him and the sticker behind him. “I never got why you cared so much if the other humans found out.”

Danny felt himself gawk. He couldn’t help it. He knew ghosts could be tunnel-visioned at best, but this level of ignorance nearly had him walking straight back up the stairs and exiting the subway altogether.

She crossed her arms, glaring. “No, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What the fuck else could that possibly mean?”

“I mean like I never got why it would matter to the humans if they found out you were Phantom. ‘Cause it was so obvious to us all on the other side. Human or ghost, you were still the same annoying brat with the same annoying personality. Not to mention, you look almost the same, minus the hair and aura.”

Danny snapped his jaw shut, and his eyebrows lowered back down. Ember was trying to make him feel better, he realized, in her own terribly worded way.

But it made sense. To the other ghosts, he was just a halfa. No matter which body he took, he still had both a heart and a core. So what did it matter to them what he looked like?

“It matters to the humans, though,” he finished.

“Well, duh. That’s kind of obvious now.” She adjusted the guitar strap on her shoulder. “Turns out, they hate ecto-anything so much that they’ll kill one of their own kind for it.”

“I’m not really one of them, though.” He refused to let his voice crack in front of her no matter how badly his throat threatened to betray him.

“Yeah, you’re not,” she agreed bluntly.

It stung.

“So why stay here with them?”

“Because…” he began, then drifted off. She had a point. When he ran, he could have snuck into his basement (provided his parents hadn’t set up the ghost shields first) and fled to the Ghost Zone. Sure, he would be homeless there too, but at least he wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder every other minute like he was now. 

But he didn’t run to his house when he was outed. He ran the other way, away from Amity Park. 

“My parents would have known I’d come home,” he said. And…it was true. At least, partially. “They would have been waiting for me. And I—I couldn’t…”

He couldn’t see them. Or, more like, he wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing them. Their pain, anger, despair. It would have been too much.

“Besides, the Guys in White were probably swarming my house. They would have caught me.”

“They’re still swarming your house, actually. It’s why I’m here.” Ember shrugged. “Figured I’d lie low out of Amity for a while. Chicago’s close enough to the barrier that there’s still a good amount of natural portals here too. Which, speaking of, you should hitch a ride with me back if you weren’t able to get there the first time.”

He averted his eyes from her pointed stare and raised brow. It would have been smart, wouldn’t it? To wait for a natural portal and then run into the Zone? 

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t just—just—”

“And why not?” Her smooth human hair finally simmered, and Danny saw the fire behind her eyes as she pushed him into the metaphorical corner further. “The fuck are you doing, babypop? Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, alright!” he snapped. Someone glanced over at him, and he tugged his hood further up his head and lowered his voice. “But I can’t just leave Earth for good!”

“Why not? What the hell will these humans even do for you if you stay? Get you locked up? Turn you into their newest specimen? Kill you?”

His hands felt jittery, and he balled them into fists, wrapping his sleeves between his fingers. “I’m not a ghost, Ember.”

“You’re sure as shit not human either!”

“But my whole life’s here. I can’t just leave. What if they try to use someone I care about to lure me out of hiding?”

“So you’d just fall for it? You’d fucking walk straight into some dumbass obvious trap to save one of your stupid friends? Are you serious, babypop?” 

He would without hesitation, but he couldn’t admit that. Not that he needed to, really. It was obvious because of something that started with an ‘ob’ and ended with ‘session.’

Ember’s aura was beginning to peek through, and Danny took a step back in response. A clear sign of submission, one he normally would never give to another ghost. But he couldn’t afford a fight in the Chicago subway today.

And Ember seemed to understand. Her eyes widened for a brief moment before her aura was back under lock and key. “Sorry,” she said. “I just can’t believe you would stay here just in case they got one of the humans you’re so attached to.”

“It’s not just that! It’s…you know, like I said. My whole life is here, it’s on Earth. I can’t just abandon it because of the GIW.”

Danny followed Ember’s gaze back to the Ghost Investigation Ward sticker plastered on the dirty tile wall. The neon eagle seemed to glow brighter than before, accenting every feather against the dark background.

“Do you know what they do to ghosts in there?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically somber.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you get it.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m the one they’re after, in case you haven’t noticed. They don’t go five minutes without bragging about all the things they want to do to me. I probably know better than anyone else what they’d do if they caught me.”

“Well, then you’re dumber than I thought,” Ember said. “They got one of Skulker’s suits, you know. Skulker ejected himself, but his powers let him access the suit remotely for a little bit, so he could still see what was happening. Especially with all the stuff he’s been installing around his suit for repairs.” She gave him an accusatory glance, and Danny supposed she was referring to all the times that Danny messed his suit up, but he didn’t react.

If Skulker didn’t want to have to do so many intricate wiring repairs, he shouldn’t have attacked Danny so much.

“Skulker saw the inside of their facility. Just for a little bit, till he got back to his lair and got a new suit. That’s when the connection dies for him—when he claims a new body. But for a few hours, he could see inside the facility. All the experiments. The machines.” Her eyes lowered to her combat boots, and she hugged her sides. “He talks about them sometimes. About…”

Danny understood instantly. “Who did he see?” 

Ember’s lips trembled, and Danny thought she would freeze up, unable to appear weak in front of the enemy. But Danny wasn’t the enemy tonight. So she sighed, closed her eyes, and said, “Youngblood.”

Danny’s blood froze in his veins.

He waited for her to say she was joking. That she was just trying to scare him. But when the first tear fell from her eyes, Danny knew she wasn’t fooling around.

“I don’t know what happened to him. Skulker’s connection cut too soon. But…I don’t think he could have survived that. He never had the strongest core, you know.”

“How the fuck could they even see him?” Danny asked, fighting to keep his ice powers locked behind the thin wall of his skin. “No, wait. Of course, they were counting on Youngblood thinking they couldn’t see him. It’s their sunglasses, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck. I—fuck.” That was all Danny could say, after all. “I’m sorry, Ember.”

“I never liked that little twerp anyway,” Ember remarked, though Danny could tell she was just putting on a brave face. “It’s sick what they do in there. It’s not that they think we can’t feel things, it’s that they don’t care, babypop. Youngblood was yelling and crying—that’s what Skulker said—and they didn’t care. They probably got off on it, knowing those sick freaks.”

Danny knew at least one operative who definitely did. “I know.”

“You shouldn’t stay here,” she tried again. “I know you don’t have to listen to me, but you should. You’re an idiot as it is. Don’t be a bigger idiot by staying.”

And suddenly, he wanted to listen to her. He wanted to throw his life away and follow her through the next natural portal from Chicago into the Ghost Zone. Frostbite surely would love to have him stay on his island. And if Frostbite got tired of him, he could go to Dora’s castle, or hell, even force Clockwork to let him crash. The old man could probably endure the company for a little while.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave everyone, he couldn’t handle not knowing if his loved ones were safe or not, he just couldn’t. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said instead. 

Ember gave him a long, weary look that let him know she saw right through him. 

“Think about it. Really think,” she said. “If you get caught, you’re finished. You get it?”

“I know. I just need time.”

She frowned and turned for the stairs. “You’re running out of that, babypop.”

****

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[latibvles]

Hey Poet! I’ve been loving the headcanons you’ve been writing and it’s got me thinking about a Mouse Hole crossover with Band of Brothers and/or The Pacific. Do you have any other thoughts on that, like ships or friendships that would come from that?

anon, when I tell you you are unleashing a monster (affectionate). yes I have thought about this — and I do eat it up quite frankly. As with the Alex & Inez headcanons and underrated girls headcanons, these will be thrown under the cut for length. also this is an invitation to drop any crackships / friendship dynamic things you want to hear me talk about in my inbox because we've got a lot of little army and marine men in this toy box to interact with our barbies.

So I think a crossover with The Pacific would be a bit harder — mostly because B-17s were used primarily in the ETO if my googling and reading serves correct. There's accounts of B-17s being used in anti-naval bombing but they didn't really, ahem, hit anything. So whoever makes it to the end of the war would be the ones to meet (unless I dived into a Lady Marines AU, which I am not well-versed enough in to do right now)

I've said this before and I maintain that... Harriet and Malarkey crossing paths after the war is very beautiful to me. They both suffered the cold, both lost their undeniable best friend and had to process that grief while fighting for their lives in one way or another (Malarkey in Bastogne, Harriet in the Stalag). What they go through leaves them both fundamentally changed as people, noticeable enough that their friends have concerns. Harriet is pretty hard to track down after the war (she's there for June's wedding, but she misses Jo and Rosie's). Who's to say she and Malarkey don't cross paths stateside? I think they could both use that kind of friendship & healing.

In a world where these girls exist (I've thought about making them apart of the WAFH WIP canon. Thoughts? Opinions? Who's to say) a magazine cover of one Fern Carmine and Vivian Savorre (among others) with bright smiles walking away from a plane in their leather jackets and aviators has definitely made its way through some Toccoa barracks and one Lewis Nixon is possibly realizing he has a thing for redheads.

There is a small window of time before Bremen/Munster where the guys are in Aldbourne & most of the Mouse Hole crew hasn't been shot down yet. Who's to say who crosses paths on a weekend pass in consideration to officers

And of course there's always a.) AU where the 101st are pilots or b.) AU where the Mouse Hole girls are paratroopers but that's besides the point

In terms of friendships? I could see Inez and Shifty getting along pretty well, Harriet does generally get along with everybody so I think she could soften up even the most hardened of hearts. Willie and Lip would also probably get along pretty great — but I think Viv is a pretty tough shell to crack in terms of getting friendship from her that isn't her expertly evading personal questions.

Lorraine and Speirs? Funny in a scary way. I think Tab would probably develop a crush on June pretty quick before learning that she can and will fight just about anyone. I also think she'd be rightly annoyed by Liebgott. And Guarnere. And— [GETS YANKED OFFSTAGE]

I do think that Lena and a certain Andrew Haldane would make an extremely cute couple. Well-read jock and his wife who works on cars [ he's alive and well TO ME. ]

I think how Vivian interacts with Easy Company Officers is interesting because of how much of herself she tries to hide from others. But I think the girls who aren't officers would probably have more interactions with the guys in The Pacific.

Jo and Eugene? Nerds. Sweet little nerds (before the horrors). She, too, keeps a library in her footlocker, Bob Leckie.

This is also my realization that Sledge and Harriet grew up 2 hours from one another but Harriet's got a lot of family — maybe some is in Mobile. Why is she the touchstone here (I'm not mad about it).

I do think June and Hoosier could have a funny friendship though. I think they'd bicker but also take the piss out of most of their friends

..... A Chuckler and Carrie dynamic is also something I would like to see. Which is to say I think Carrie needs to continue to gather Large People who would go to war for her because she's two apples tall and is still finding her voice

Send me crossover requests please

Nix Bucky and Viv in a room sounds like my nightmare blunt rotation. Dick falls into the famous trap of thinking Willie doesn't like him because of her RBF.

My brain is scattered but there's a lot of ways that these people could all cross over into one another and it looks different depending on which way you slice it

My final verdict? Fern Carmine is everybody's type /lh

[nomoreusername]

Girlfriend Guilt

Pairing:Harriet x female reader

Summary:After the incident in the Maze, Harriet keeps acting distant.

I don't want to sound paranoid or ungrateful. I don't want to seem indifferent to the fact that I’m here. I mean death is pretty much a guarantee without the Safe Haven.

It's just that Harriet’s been acting so strange ever since we got here. When we first reunited she ran into my arms and wrapped me in the biggest hug only to immediately pull away. She had been giving me one word responses to everything I asked before WCKD took me. It was as if she was looking through me instead of at me.

I thought she was just a little thrown off at first. Six months of separation should have been more than enough for her to get over the shock though. She should be fine now. We should be back to gentle kisses, holding hands, soft words, and long stares.

She won't even look at me, and she won't admit that something is wrong even though it's so obvious it's basically an insult for her not to.

I want to be understanding. We’ve all been through a lot, and everyone processes things in their own way. There's mostly no right or wrong way to do that.

When I can watch her laugh from afar with Sonya though and know the second she’s able to spot me her smile will fade, it feels like there is. I feel like I’m watching a tutorial of how to neglect your girlfriend.

I was stupid for thinking it wouldn't be difficult today. I was stupid for thinking she would actually want to talk to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It's okay. I’m sure it's nothing bad,”Aris coaxed. Shaking my head, I kept my face buried in my hands as I silently cried. “She’s probably just got extra stuff on her mind. She still loves you.”

“Then, why won't she act like it?”I pointed out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as I sniffled. Staring at me with pity in his eyes, he gave a small shrug and patted my shoulder. Tearing up even more, I pulled my knees to my chest as I sobbed harder.

“It’s okay. You just have to talk to her.”

“I’m-I’m trying. She just . . . she keeps ignoring me?”

Running out of things to say, he nodded his head.

“I just want to be alone for a little bit?”I requested.

“Okay. Do you want me to try to talk to her for you?”

“No. I just . . . I think I’m gonna have to break up with her?”

Giving me a sympathetic nod, he quietly told me it was going to be okay. Drained of all energy, I stayed silent. Understanding that nothing was going to make me feel better right now, he did as I asked after another strained, pity smile.

I stared out at the water as I listened to him walk away. Wiping my still falling tears, I attempted to take deep breaths only for them to be short and heavy. My heart ached in my chest as I felt sick to my stomach. Every last part of me was exhausted, zapped of all energy.

I think she broke something in me. Maybe not on purpose but still. This is a kind of pain I never thought I’d have to have. We’ve always been great at talking to each other and communicating what we needed. This is completely unlike her.

I want to be supportive, but I can't help if she keeps pushing me away.

I also can't sacrifice my sanity for the dimming sliver of hope that she’ll open up again.

♡ - - - ♡

I should have been doing something. I should have gone and helped with something or hung out with someone or even just rested up.

I couldn't though. I swear that I can't even move.

I just sat in that spot, wondering what was next. Why was she being like this? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her and don't remember? Is she grieving and doesn't know how to tell me? Is she going through something and doesn't want to share what? Am I really supposed to leave her now, or do I give her another chance? How many chances is too much?

“Hi.”

Snapping my head around at the voice, I found myself face to face with the girl who was currently and slowly breaking my soul.

Turning back around, I made it clear I had nothing to say to her.

“Okay. I guess I deserve that.”

“Yeah. You do,”I said firmly.

Sighing, she walked over. Without an invitation, she sat beside me. As she tried to hold my hand that was on the ground I snatched it away and into my lap.

“Y/N, I know I’ve been not the best girlfriend lately,”She said slowly.

“No. You’ve been the worst. You’ve completely ignored me after we were separated for months. You've acted like you're just too good for me, like I’m less than the dirt beneath your boots.”

“I know, but I promise it wasn't like you’ve been thinking. I’m not mad at you or wanting to leave you or anything like that.”

Staying silent, I turned to face her. Her eyes shone with remorse as she met my gaze. Keeping my expression blank, I waited for her to speak after so long.

“I love you, soldier. You’re the strongest person that I’ve ever met. You’ve gone through so much, and you’ve still got a heart of gold. You're a great listener and know how to comfort anybody. You've been through hell, and you still keep your head high and don't lose your spirit. Physical strength is one thing, but you have something better. After all you’ve been put through, you are still you. You're still the most perfect girl that’s ever existed. You're still so wonderful and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Then, why aren't you acting like you feel that way?”

“Because I know that I haven't been a good girlfriend. Not since,”She started before closing her eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she wiped a tear from her cheek before meeting my gaze. Her beautiful caramel eyes were shining with regret. “Not since I left you at the Maze,”She whispered.

“Oh Harriet,”I unintentionally whispered back, realizing what was going on.

I hadn't wanted to leave the Maze. I was afraid of what was in there and whatever the world may have been. I had been convincing Harriet to stay while she had been trying to get me to leave. In the end, she led everyone out. I stayed for around a week before giving up. I had ended up running into Aris and his group in the Scorch and joined them.

“Oh honey,”I sighed, opening my arms for her. Accepting my embrace, she wrapped me in a tight hug, burying her face in my neck. Rubbing her back, I clung to her just as much. “I understand. You had a job to do. You had to protect everyone.”

“But that meant I didn't protect you,”She mumbled against my skin.

“I didn't go with you either,”I pointed out.

“I know. I just-I just wanted to do the right thing.”

“And you did. You're out, yeah? And I am too. Everything worked out in the end,”I reminded her, pulling away but keeping my hands on her shoulders.

“I just know that I should have been there for you earlier.”

“You did what you had to. You did great, and I’m so proud of you. So very proud,”I promised, cupping her cheeks and wiping away her slow falling tears.

“I’m sorry. I am. I just didn't know how to talk to you after that. I didn't know how to face you.”

“I was never mad at you though.”

“I didn't think you would be, and that made the guilt so much worse.”

“Oh honey,”I sighed, kissing her temple as she sniffled. When I pulled away I kept my hands where the were, not quite ready to not be touching her yet. ��You don't have to feel guilty for that. There was no way of knowing what the right thing to do was, and we disagreed on that. That's okay though. We won't think the same thing all of the time, right?”

“Yeah. I know,”She nodded, resting her head back in my neck. Wrapping my arms around my girl, I placed my chin on her shoulder.

“It’s over now. Just let everything be over so we can move on and be happy together. Let's just be happy here and move on, Harriet. Please?”

“Yeah. Okay,”She agreed, her shoulders dropping a little as she relaxed.

With a small yet genuine smile, I felt mine do the same as I savored the mystery of her ignoring me being over.

We’re fine now. We’re going to be okay. Even if we’re going to be dealing with the aftermath of things that have permanently altered our brain chemistry, we know we’ll never be alone. Until the day one of us leaves, we will always have each other.

[lavellenchanted]

I absolutely loved your take on Jackson and April in Boston in your drabble! It really felt like them, April misinterpreting things and Jackson being angry about it. Love your writing!

If you're ever interested in writing another one about them, would you be interested in prompt 14 - kiss on the neck?

Ahh, thank you so much!! I'm so glad you enjoyed it :) It is especially flattering as I've read your drabbles and loved them - you write Jackson and April so well.

This was a fun one to write - I hope you like it.

--

Usually when they have an event to go to or a reservation to make, Jackson’s the one that’s more likely to be late. For as long as he’s known her, April has always been scarily - and, often, annoyingly - efficient with her timetables and itineraries, planning everything out with what in more recent years is possibly quite literally military precision.

So it’s something of a novel experience for Jackson to find himself in his tux, entirely ready, watching the minutes tick by and realising if they don’t leave soon they might miss the gala opening. Which he wouldn’t really care about, except that he is now president of the Foundation, and his absence will probably be noted.

“You okay up there?” he calls up the stairs after a while, and when there’s no response he frowns and starts climbing up them. “April?”

He throws open the door to their room and then pauses, eyebrows raising as he takes in what looks like the site of a very small hurricane. Clothes are strewn everywhere, dresses and skirts thrown haphazardly across the bed, the floor and April’s dressing table.

April herself is stood in the centre of it all, in a lilac dress that fits snugly to her hips where it flares out into a loose skirt that falls almost to the floor. It sets off her hair, which she’s wearing in loose red waves, brilliantly. Seeing her in it does things to Jackson that he’s going to have to get under control if he wants to present a professional demeanour tonight but . . . damn. 

He shakes his head, trying to focus, and as he steps inside April glances up from where she seems to be trying to shove things into her purse with one hand while pulling on a pair of heels with the other.

“I know, I know,” she says before he can speak. “We’re running late. But my blow-dryer cut out halfway through doing my hair and then when I went to get dressed I realised Harriet must have gotten into my closet at some point.”

She gestures with the hand clutching the purse and when he looks down at the various abandoned dresses he realises all them bear the tell-tale marks of having been handled by a toddler with sticky hands. 

(That was something he was surprised no one mentioned when they were giving him parenting advice - that somehow, no matter what you do or how often you clean them, your toddler will always have sticky hands.)

“Oh, no . . .”

“Oh, yes. I’m pretty sure this is the only clean dress I have left - or at least, I didn’t see any marks on it so if you do, do me a favour and just don’t tell me, okay? But yeah, we’re gonna have a pretty big dry-cleaning bill in our future.”

She seems exasperated more than really mad about it, so Jackson doesn’t feel too guilty about finding it all a little funny. 

(He won’t find it so funny later when he realises Harriet also got her hands on his favourite hoodie.)

April just gives him a flat look and then glances over at the clock on her bedside table. “But I’m nearly ready, and we should still make it in time if we leave now - I already checked the traffic and it’s fine so it should only take twenty minutes to get there. What do you think?”

She’s finally managed to get her second shoe on and now straightens up, giving him a little twirl that makes the ends of her skirt flare out. His stomach tightens and he almost groans, because all the urges he thought he’d gotten under control come rushing back with force.

“It’s . . . ” He shakes his head again. “You’re beautiful.”

After all these years he knows that she knows damn well when he wants her, and the satisfied little grin on her face tells him she did that deliberately. She’s a menace.

“I think it’s missing something though,” he says impulsively, and April stops, brows knitting together in confusion.

“It is? What?”

He crosses to his own bedside table and rummages around in the drawer for a moment before pulling out a square box in a very recognisable shade of mint green that makes April’s eyes go wide.

“Jackson?”

“I was saving this for your birthday, but since our daughter has wreaked havoc on your wardrobe I figure you deserve to have it now.”

Lifting the lid, he has to bite back a laugh at the almost comical gasp April lets out when she sees the necklace within. It’s a simple chain of white gold, but hanging at the end is a round pendant made up of one centre diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds. 

“Oh, Jackson. It’s gorgeous.” April brings up a hand to touch it but lets her fingers just hover over it, looking up at him in disbelief. “Are these . . . real?”

He nods. “Diamonds are your birthstone, after all.” 

“You really shouldn’t have,” she says, but the look on her face tells him she’s thrilled that he did. 

“Of course I should.”

What he doesn’t say out loud, because he doesn’t want to spoil the moment by bringing up painful memories, is that it’s not just a present for this birthday - but for all the ones he missed when he was being too stupid and stubborn and angry to let himself admit that he still loved her. 

She bites her lip - which does nothing to dampen the desire to rip that dress right back off her - then spins around and lifts her hair up. “Put it on for me?”

He drops the box back on to his bedside table, then steps up closer to her so he can slip the necklace around her beautifully slender throat. Fortunately it’s not the first time he’s put jewellery on for her, so it only takes him a moment to fasten the hook. 

His hands linger on her shoulder, thumbs brushing over her warm, soft skin, and then lets himself give into impulse and ducks down to drop a kiss on the back of her neck, just above the necklace fastening. 

But one kiss isn’t enough, so he press another one higher up, and then another, and soon his lips are trailing kisses along the side of her neck up towards her jaw, his hands sliding down her back to her hips to pull her flush against him. 

April lets out a quiet moan as he reaches a spot just where her neck and jawline meet that he knows is particularly sensitive and stops to linger, tracing circles with his tongue, and he can hear her breathing faster.

“Jackson, we can’t - we’ll be late -” she says, but she’s also reaching backwards to cup the back of his head with one hand, like she wants to keep him there.

“So?” he murmured between kisses. “They’ll wait.”

“Jackson, this is your first gala as president. You can’t be late.”

She’s right, and he knows she’s right, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

Reluctantly, he kisses her neck one last time and then lifts his head - but he doesn’t step away, turning her around so they’re face to face and he can look her in the eyes (and he’s gratified to see that her pupils are blown wide and that she’s just as frustrated as he is that she’s decided to be responsible and make them stop) as he says, “Fine. We will go and be on time. But we will leave early and as soon as we get home we are going to resume this and I am going to peel you very slowly out of that dress.”

Her cheeks flush almost as red as her hair, and she grins up at him. “Now that I can agree to.”

kiss prompts

[racfoam]

The Smuggle Harry Out of Britain mini nynn fic for @loneamaryllis set in 7th Year

“I hope this works,” said Ron.

“It will work,” said Hermione firmly, but she still sounded slightly nervous. “There's an entire flat in the duffel bag, I've checked it numerous times. It has enough food to last all three of us a month. And we can always exit it if things go bad.”

“And all the others are baits?” asked Harry.

“Just in case,” said Hermione.

“So we just send ourselves off as a package for a Muggle who forgot his baggage by the airplane? What won't the Muggles invent?” asked Ron, amazed.

“Let's hope it works,” said Harry. “Otherwise we'll be exiting right in the middle of Death Eater HQ.”

Ron laughed nervously.

“Well,” said Ron, gesturing Harry and Hermione to the open bag. “Ladies first.”

Harry grinned.

“Harry, don't jump —” said Hermione.

Harry jumped.

They heard a thud, a groan, and an, “Ow.”

They peered inside. Harry was laid on her butt on the wooden floor, staring up at them. “Could've told me there's a ladder.”

“I tried.” said Hermione sternly.

Ron laughed. Hermione entered the duffel bag next, stepping onto the wooden ladder one step at a time.

The Muggle airport officer was coming to collect the baggage. Ron had no other choice. He leapt in, crashlanding on the parqueted floor, and Harry charmed the zipper of the duffel bag shut. They waited, tense, and then felt the entire flat shudder, as though they were dolls in a house being lifted.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief.

They explored the flat as much as they could given the earthquakes they experienced through the process of their luggage being processed. They knew they were thrown into the baggage cart near the airplane when they all fell to the ground off the couch where they were lounging against each other.

It was, most likely, the most tense waiting period of three hours of Harry’s life before, after a while of hearing the engines, she decided to climb up the ladder and unzip the bag. She peeked her head out through the gap.

There was luggage everywhere. They were most definitely in a plane — that was definitely flying — heading toward New York City.

Hermione and Ron peeked their heads out, too, their faces popping up on either side of Harry’s.

They released disbelieving laughs before they retreated down. Soon enough, they wept freely, and Harry hugged Hermione tight.

“You need to stop saving my life," sobbed Harry into her best friend's shoulder.

Hermione grinned through the tears. “Never.”

----------

Voldemort raised a hand, stopping Yaxley's report. He was displeased. Very displeased. “And none were the real one.”

Nobody dared speak.

“The real one was not flying with them,” continued Voldemort calmly. “Black was with the half-giant. He played the part well, luring me with the Disarming Charm.”

“We were fooled,” said Voldemort at last. “Whatever the real plan was, wherever my Harriet went, she did not divulge the entire plan to the Order. Perhaps not even her godfather...”

“What of the other two?”

The reports told him nothing of importance, nothing of substance. Voldemort dismissed the meeting. Absentmindedly, he caressed the word on his right wrist.

He went to his chambers, and paused at the sight of the snowy owl perched on the tall cupboard. Hedwig was glaring at him with her golden, sharp eyes, as she always did.

In her beak was a letter. Voldemort tugged at it, and, delivery finished, Hedwig swept out of the window. He could follow her, but the owl was certain to notice him despite him Disillisioning himself. That bird had ten sets of eyes, he was certain, an awareness no other owl he knew had.

Voldemort opened the envelope with a cut of his nail, retrieving the letter inside. It was Harriet's handwriting, one simple sentence.

Who said anything about magic?

The laughter of Lord Voldemort filled the Malfoy Manor.

[birlwrites]

Alack and alas, I have no knowledge of horror myself let alone gothic horror. I've been thoroughly recommended The Magnus Archives and Welcome To Nightvale (a hybrid podcast and book set up I think?) by a friend whose taste I trust well enough which are horror but uh no clue about the subgenre.

I can however offer elemental discussion adjacent to your (Harry Potter) Regulus Black fanfictions based on your one line: "fire just dies" and this post about Barty if Regulus dies: (nevermind searching is taking me too long).

"fire just dies"... when not sustained by something external! Therefore Barty fits it spectacularly! Regulus gets to be some kind of Hestia equivalent feeding Barty continual logs of affection and needing things of Barty. Evan in general gets to be magic fire dust which only influences or changes the colour of the flames for a little bit but doesn't sustain them (perhaps the occasional thrown wad of balled-up newspaper as Evan won't shut up about passing on Interesting Stories). Barty's mother gets to be the chimney (stopping him from dying of building paternal-smoke inhalation), the stone hearth stopping him from burning himself/his own house down when the fire is controlled and sometimes gives long-lasting lumps of coal but not enough to keep a whole fireplace going. Barty Senior gets to be both gasoline and fire lighter as a motivation, pushing Barty to burn out but blaze bright and fast in response as he does so. Other friends occasionally throw handfuls of twigs/branches/flammable materials at Barty but not consistently really.

Voldemort with Death Eater Barty (hopefully not lachrimae future Barty) simply gestures to a pyre bonfire labelled "Demonstrate Your Faith In The Cause! The Party Never Ends!" that Barty subsequently throws himself onto draws great destructive direction from finding suitable Guy Fawkes Substitutes to throw onto (muggleborns, blood traitors, traitors to the cause, loyal ministry members, his own father... etc).

Hopefully, the metaphor isn't too far removed from the style of Barty's pre-approved Cyprian Silkwood's style. But so long as it hits vaguely adjacent to being entertaining.

i've been recommended the magnus archives as well, with the fascinating addendum of "i've never thought about worms the same way ever again." i feel like i'm going to end up listening to it and then sending terrified messages to the person who recommended it to me

they really are regulus black fanfictions afjskhgjkfd as evidenced by the fact that i named barty's mom 'harriet' fully forgetting the series is about a guy named harry. normally i try to avoid super similar names like that unless it's for Plot Reasons but in this case i just. did not recall

THE METAPHOR ABSOLUTELY HITS. associating barty with fire appeals to me because of the, like... dual-purpose of it as a weapon, a tool, and a destructive force. he needs constant fuel and room to maneuver - he can't be smothered and he needs something to motivate him to keep going, and i LOVE your comparison of crouch sr to gasoline and a fire lighter YES ABSOLUTELY

i'd say voldemort is also gasoline in his own way (not in lachrimae you will be pleased to know, barty's actually one of the characters who has a Less Bad Time in lachrimae!!), but he's judicious in how he uses it. less dumping a ton of gasoline on the fire and more a steady drip. he doesn't want barty to go out too early, but he's fine with barty self destructing as long as it's in a useful way

and regulus connected with the earth element is also fun because i think he really is like the earth in a way - kind of [literally] overlooked/stepped on until he decides to become a Problem. he's always there, he doesn't disappear, he's so reliable that you don't notice him, and whoops you weren't paying attention to the Danger and now you've died in a mudslide

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC In Fifteen Tag!

Thanks for the Tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!

I'll go with some lines from Kyran Mavven (Of Starlight and Beasts), Raiden (Jade Ruins), and Sam Delaways (Enchanted Illusions)!

Kyran Mavven

"Ugh, you've got to be kidding me." *death glares at Masen from across the tavern with the wrath of a thousand suns.* [Masen sees him, and strides up to him for the whole tavern to see, speaking with an angry smirk "Hello, brother."]

"If I get to blow something up then... yes. The answer is yes. And it will always be yes."

[To Bastien] "... You're not as wretched as I'd expected, for an Eclipsed soldier, that is. You're... pretty okay." [Cue awkward pat on the shoulder before walking off]

"I haven't worked on a team for a while now. I wasn't expecting my next experience with this to be with this little bunch of dimwits, but I'll take what I can get."

"They're trying to kill us, aren't they." [Corah chuckles awkwardly drily, clearly lying "No, not at all! What made you come up with that?"] "First, most people we meet since you came around are actively trying to kill us. Secondly, and most evident - they've literally just stabbed you!

+ Bonus: "If you touch my glasses or my goggles again I will bite you."

Raiden

6. "Because I know how to put up a show - why do you think my fights in the arena have such a crowded audience? - while you almost stumbled yourself to death twice since we first met. By yourself. That's why I'm in charge of the distraction, and you're in charge of all the rest."

7. "Hold on just a minute! I'm far too glorious to trudge through that muck, oh, no way in the Hells! We're figuring out another way around this or I swear to the Spirits that will leave you behind -" [Gets thrown in the bog regardless, mid-tantrum]

8. "So we're working with the Daggerfangs now? Literal assassins and thugs?" Raiden looks between Solei and Nevan with a bitter laugh "Oh, okay! Here go my hopes at living past 25 then. But carry on, enlighten me with your plans."

9. "Just because I like to annoy you doesn't mean you're not my friend, Solei. Now, can you not be such a killjoy and just let me help you, or is that too difficult for your 'high royalness'?"

10. "Oh, it's not me you've gotta worried about. I'm all tied up!" He smiles, holding up his tied wrists with a near-hysteric laugh and a dangerous tone "You pissed off Jinn - you're more fucked than I could ever make you be. And I suggest you run off now, 'cause she's coming up behind you at a really remarkable speed."

Sam Delaways

11. "That's a good idea alright. If you two intend on being dead in a week that is!"

12. "...Yeah, this city ain't for the faint of heart - you gotta fight through it, or else it will consume you, and that never has a good ending."

13. "You don't say? Here I was thinking the whole 'drenched in blood and viscera, glowing pitch black eyes' was just a style choice of his - of course, I knew he was a necromancer! I just didn't know he was that necromancer, that bit is new."

14. "The constabulary here are more corrupt than the crooks. If you walk up to them with that bunch of evidence against the Mayor, I guarantee ya that you two will be the ones walking out of that station with cuffs and a noose waiting for you in the docks. We need 'ta make an actual plan to go about this."

15. "I want chocolate cake." [Harriet and Augustus turn to him, baffled, given that this is the wreckage of one of their most recent escapades gone wrong. Augustus speaks up "You do know that we almost died just now -"] "That's precisely why I want that cake. Now, shut up, and lemme just enjoy this ride for a while, fancypants, I got a headache."

Tagging (gently, no pressure): @lassiesandiego, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, @rickie-the-storyteller, @crowandmoonwriting, @sam-gladee, @writernopall, @oh-no-another-ideaa, @hrmkingizzy, @jasperygrace, @tabswrites, @littleladymab, @starlit-hopes-and-dreamss, @tabswrites @i-can-even-burn-salad, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and @blind-the-winds

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e7 rewatch notes

Forks. Here we go...

Enters with Syd doing menu R&D with Coach K's interview layered on.

I'm going to be honest and say I hate inspirational sports narratives - years ago my husband used to work for a huge sports conglomerate, and I'm still finding and disposing of "TEAMS GO HARD - THERE ARE NO APOLOGIES" motivational-type swag to this day.

That being said, the interview is highly relative to Syd, foreshadows Richie's arc apex, Carmy's choice/fall/probable redemption, the teams learning curves, the restaurant's impending ebb and flow, so I've transcribed it for posterity:

So as you've been coaching over the years, what would you say are the most important lessons of leadership that you've learned?

The very first thing is that in order to get better you change limits. And when you change limits, you're going to look bad and you're going to fail. And at West Point I learned that failure was never a destination. In other words, when you are knocked back, you know, figure out why, then change.

The other thing is that you're not going to get there alone. You know, be on a team. You know, surround yourself with good people and learn how to listen. You're not going to learn with you just talking. And when you do talk, converse - don't make excuses. Figure out the solution. And you don't have to figure it out yourself.

I always wanted to be part of a team and obviously I wanted to lead that team. You know, what an interesting life it is to be a leader.

"That's something" Syd murmurs. The whole talk is the glue that holds her to RIchie and co. without Carmy in e10.

I do appreciate how they portray (with the aid of spooky music) Richie's wake-up, the city of Chicago, and the modernist restaurant as bathed in grey/blue hues and basically haunted at the jump. Richie as a shell, an angry ghost, terrified of his perceived lack of agency, his irrelevance, and whatever future fate Carmy has in store for him.'

"Chef Terry is always watching" contrasted with the initial starkness of "Every Second Counts" without context - so much has already been reported on this episode re: ritual/purpose, but I just relish watching Richie be in jail the first portion of this episode.

And don't worry, I'm not going to make any "OMG a fork! Remember when...." observations, this isn't the Reddit sub.

I do like the use of David Byrne's "Glass, Concrete & Stone" as Richie tucks into day two and three of his stage.

"Now, I'm wakin' at the crack of dawn, to send a little money home, from here to the moon...."

I mean, his conscious mind is screaming "I have to do this so Carmy will pay me", but some part of his lizard brain has to be cluing in at this point that this whole exercise/path might lead to a more lucrative life - so he can support the family he doesn't possess anymore.

Carmy, Syd, Tina, Marcus and Natalie are thrown into a restaurant montage overlapping RIchie's scene while the song continues to play out - it doesn't play in this lyrical order, so you know every note is intentionally directed at one/all:

Lookin' at happiness

Keepin' my flavor fresh

Nobody knows I guess

How far I'll go, I know

So I'm leavin' at Six O' Clock

Meet in a parkin' lot

Harriet Hendershot

Sunglasses on, she waits by this

Glass and concrete and stone

It is just a house, not a home.

And my head is fifty feet high

Let my body and soul be my guide

There's too many dual meanings /applications for these lyrics to even sift through here. Bravo, Christopher Storer.

In my last recap of Fishes, I had said a bit about how all the men in the Berzatto orbit can be ground down to a pulp by men they perceive as an authority/threat.

Garrett represents a beta-persona to Richie, someone he could easily go off on (with a "G or R" comment casually thrown in) when he starts lecturing him in the alley about his commitment/work ethic, but Garrett is so assured of his work, and more importantly assured of his mother-fucking purpose.

The obvious layer of this is that Richie's seeking his purpose, so it's a crystalizing moment. The secondary layer is that it reveals the kryptonite of the Berzatto(ish) men - people who have and are assured by their purpose, and who lead with that instead of myths and bluster.

This explains Carmy's early "othering" by the family, for better and for worse - he's not assured of that purpose because of all his enmeshment and hang-ups, but they caught a whiff of what it could lead to, and it brews a curiosity, mocking and quiet disdain.

It also explains Richie's bonkers hatred of Syd in season 1 (reciprocated in kind), as Sydney comes rushing out of the gate with assurance and purpose. It also explains the immediate tune-up their relationship undergoes as soon as Richie wanders back to The Bear. Same goes for Richie and Natalie's repair/sudden appreciation for one another by e8.

Re: the teachers who had saved up for a fancy dinner at the pre-service meeting:

"I want to go above and beyond tonight. Every supplement and caviar, a tour of the kitchen, a champagne tour in the gallery as well. And, guys, we're not going to let these people spend a dollar. Do not drop a check. I wanna blow their fuckin' minds."

I will cop to shedding a happy tear the first time I saw this. I really hope it changed some mid-American perspectives on what service work and hospitality can mean (across the board, but especially in its upper echelons), by what metrics they assess it, how they value the people who work purposefully to take care of them. So good! I'm glad it hit Richie like a ton of bricks.

It looks like Tiff's been crying before she calls Richie in preparation. It's really sweet that Richie's first thought is obviously a worry about her health or something when she says she needs to tell him something, followed quickly by relief. I didn't question that there wasn't real love there, but it's nice to see it linger between the two of them in the aftermath....Ebon and GIllian both played this scene so sincerely.

As he re-enters the kitchen, Richie is watching the careful food prep and the FOH interactions with such a childlike intensity/wonder. I didn't realize that the "rebirth of Richie" happened in a day, not a week (which I felt was too fast already) but I actually find myself resenting it less at this clip. Basically all the things he held dear (being Van Halen, potential reconciliation with Tiff, the dishonesty of white collar life and dining/fraud Carmy) were obliterated in a single day, but a life that requires "someone who's good with people" has presented itself in tandem. (I...god....its a fork in the fucking road, ok? ugh.)

Just taking a beat to marvel over the Chicago cinematography in this episode. My God, the colors they were able to coax out of trains and the skyline at night, it's truly magnificent.

Some reddit gals were pointing out that Chef Jess' gold 'X' earrings are the exact same as Claire's, which indicated that she's marked as a love interest for Richie the same way Claire is marked for Carmy, everything being intentional and all that.

While I leave a slight amount of room to believe that a show about a group of kitchen rats doesn't have an overly-extensive jewelry collection to pull from in the wardrobe department, if it was intentional I think it says more about Richie's motivations than it does Carmy's.

Richie really wanted a Claire. Someone available, interested, someone he could regard as a "high-calibre woman" (I am not going to include any of the dialogue from Fishes, don't worry). I think the "X" could signify women who are emotionally open and available. What the men do with that is up to them - I don't think The Bear is going to fuck around with fatalistic narratives when it's actively trying to dispel them elsewhere.

I really love the sense of play as the staff gather around the perquod's pizza as the chef is preparing it - taking a minute to delight in it without it disrupting the urgency of the kitchen at rush. I can't wait until The Bear gains its sea legs and we see everyone BOH being afforded moments like this.

Deep dish is not "magic pizza" though. Far from it.

When Richie identifies the apple cider gastrique and Garrett cries "THATS MY FUCKING BOY RIGHT THERE!!" -

I mean, it's bro movie shit, and this would never happen in a week....but it is a truly charming context switch. The Taylor Swift bit was way too cloying for me, but I'm relieved to see Richie smile and Ebon really sells it all.

Shout out to the shot of Ceres.

It's been discussed, but Garrett's sobriety story re: acts of service for recovery/hospital-ity is a poignant add-on.

Every character featured on the show is tasked with providing service and taking care of people in either a hospital or hospitality setting, and it's the key to maintaining (or regaining) control of their lives.

Richie is a baby who's learning, we know this. This seems more like a direct shot across the bow at Carmy - even with the example of a girlfriend who's a doctor, he's negating taking care of people and providing acts of service for them to provide for himself (thinking it'll make him better at it). Carmy has dodged alcoholism through abstinence, but he's exhibiting addict behavior by abdicating his responsibilities to others in order to chase sensations. He dodges his AA meetings, neglects service to others, and ends up losing control of his life.

Aaannnd we're back to Berzatto patterns with Richie feeling like Carmy owns and controls him, once it's reinforced that Garrett/Chef Terry defer to Carmy re: Richie's working life. We all know Carmy would never deny him the opportunity to move on to another stellar job, which makes his call to him so annoying.

I like that the next morning Richie is shown to be 50% less self-destructive. He's bloodshot again and staring at Mikey's prayer card in the mirror, but he's also up in a flash, organizing Eva's crayons, cleaning the counters etc. instead of just fully dirt-bagging it out the door. He's not perfect, but he's changed.

Hmmm - Richie reveals to Chef Terry that he was a military brat.If he moved around a lot as the sole child (it's been established that his parents were shit), it definitely explains why he would gravitate towards Mikey's very rooted family to have an established sense of place, no matter how dysfunctional it is. He also seems to take it very personally that their dad was a deadbeat - I wonder if that was a secondary abandonment for him too.

Chef Terry - "I tried to open a place years ago. I had all these accolades, I was younger, I was on fire. I was arrogant and I tried to move too fast and I couldn't keep the place open, and the market crashed and I got killed.[......] the most public wipe-out.

Yikes. Followed by the story of her current place:

"That was on my 38th birthday. I was out walking all night, unemployed, angry, depressed - blaming everyone else for all the time I'd lost and all the money I'd lost, all of it. And it was raining - and I was walking through Lincoln Park - and my phone died. And so I stood under this awning waiting for the rain to stop - and I just stood there and stared - and then the sun came up, and it turns out I was right there.

And then I walked 'round to the front and I saw the sign. It was an actual sign. It was a restaurant for lease sign."

Richie - "Like a, uh, never too late...."

"Yeah. Never too late to start over."

Again, the meaning as it applies to Richie is pretty overt and obvious, but I wonder how they're going to tether this more to Syd or Carmy next season (or just rail them both equally with it, along with the fate of The Bear). There are also parallels of it being a family business, and the death of a family member that she didn't get the opportunity to know as well as she should have.

"He believes in you. He told me" - Aw, Carmy ❤️ I'll be mad at you again tomorrow.

This ended up being more enjoyable than I remembered. I think Pop and Fishes just did a number on me.

[that-tmr-girl]

My Turn For Once

After Harriet has an awful day, you help by dominating her.

Grinding, oral (given), dominant reader

Today was a mess. It was an absolute disaster of a day. The damn grievers were practically unavoidable, there at every turn. I didn't even have time to eat lunch since they kept popping up.

It even started terribly. All I wanted to do was wake up and have morning sex with my girlfriend. Instead, someone had to start chaos and let the animals out, meaning I was skating while being fucking soaked. That is also extremely uncomfortable, to be moving around while you're a damn waterfall.

I was sweaty, I was a mess, and I took the longest shower possible without caring about if anybody needed help. I don't care about dinner either. I just want to take care of this.

I basically slammed the door of our hut open to see Y/N sitting there, quietly reading. She looked up at me, her face written with sympathy as she noticed my defeated expression.

Putting the book down, she sat up on the bed. Tying her hair back, she put it out of her face as I slammed the door shut before basically running to her arms.

“Rough day?”She asked.

“You have no idea,”I promised between kisses.

“Well, I know one problem we can fix,”She teased, her hands going up my shirt.

Physically unable to to wait, I tore it off, my sports bra following. I tossed it to the floor before pushing her back on the bed, kissing her as deeply as I could.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out,”I warned, pulling away as I forced her shirt off to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Putting my mouth on her nipple, I swirled my tongue around as I grinded on her. As she moaned, I started pinching her other nipple, making her cry out for a moment.

Sitting up, I frantically pulled my pants off as she tugged hers down, her panties following. I did the same until we were both naked.

Leaning back down, I kissed her again, shoving my tongue in her mouth as I grinded my pussy against hers. She moaned as she pushed her hips up, creating even more friction.

As I was thrusting down on her, she wrapped her legs around my waist and flipped me under her, putting her on top. My mouth opened in absolute shock as she pinned my wrists beside my head.

“Actually, I will be fucking your brains out. Nice try though,”She smirked.

“I-what-huh?”I sputtered out in disbelief.

“I said I’m going to rail you,”She repeated, this devilish glint in her eyes.

“But you never-”

“Dominant you? Well, I am tonight. I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you, and you're gonna take it like a good girl,”She demanded.

“Yes ma'am,”I breathed out, my heart racing in excitement. This was brand new, but holy shit, she was already so amazing at it.

Pushing her pussy down, she grinded on me. I moaned as she kept my wrists pinned down, holding me in pace. This was still almost unbelievable, but apparently she’s always had a secret talent for topping. She just waited until the worst day I’ve ever had to show it off.

Suddenly, she stopped grinding on me. I whimpered at the loss of friction, but she gently pressed her lips against mine, silencing my sounds. She grabbed my face with her hands, holding it as she deepened the kiss. I melted at her touch until she pulled her lips off of mine.

Moving her lips down my chest, she left small love bites, nibbling on her skin. I moaned at the feeling until she started kissing down my body, stopping every few seconds to suck on my skin. My pussy throbbed in anticipation, waiting for her touch.

As she moved her lips to my lower stomach, she spread my legs with her hands. My face flushed at the way she making me completely exposed and vulnerable to her.

Pressing her lips to my clit, she kissed it. I gasped before shivering at the feeling, my head thrown back.

Taking my legs, she stopped them from shaking before licking between my folds, lapping up my juices. I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle my sounds as she kept teasing me, working me up until I was ready to beg.

I didn't have to though as she plunged her tongue deep inside of me. A high pitched moan escaped past my lips as I pushed my hips up. Grabbing my legs, she started gently trailing her fingernails down my thighs, sending more goosebumps up my skin. I couldn't help but moan louder at her touch.

As she swirled her tongue around, I felt the knot in the core of my stomach. My chest heaved with pleasure as I threw my head back again, my eyes shut as I took in the feeling.

With her still licking and sucking on me, I gasped as I finally finished. My legs locked up as I swore I was seeing the heavens.

I had been waiting for this all day, but that was even better than I could have ever predicted.

“Was that what you've been craving?”She teased, climbing on top of me.

“Yeah. Something like that,”I nodded.

That's an understatement. That is exactly what I never knew I needed in my life.

[hannahhook7744]

Isle kid Moodboards revamped part 2;

Marya Grigorievna Rasputin, the 20 year old daughter of Grigori Efimovic Rasputin and Baba Yaga (bartok the magnificent).

One of the medics of Harriet Hook's crew.

Lover of skeletons, magic, taxidermy, bugs, roses, and whiskey cake.

Not too great st speaking English.

Bestfriend of Big Murphy and Claudine Frollo.

Currently single.

Reza Vizer, the 15 year old son of the former Royal Astronomer of Agrabah and a harem girl as well as the adoptive son of Mozenrath and Sadira. Older brother of Omar and Alya.

He is the forensics expert of the Badun Detective Agency and is rivals with Carlos De Vil as well as a student at Dragon Hall.

He's good with swords, daggers, guns, tea, and breaking and entering, and He always acts like he is the smartest in the room (which he is most of the time) and doesn't like it when that title is challenged because he has earned that title.

He also doesn't like it when people treat him like he's less than Carlos, which is why he didn't join the Anti-heroes club (because it was being run by Yen Sid who is not found of him at all).

He is dating Yzla Sorcerer of Enchancia.

Claudine Esther-May Frollo, the 19 year old daughter of Claude Frollo.

She is homeschooled and apart of Harriet's crew, the Bad Apples, and the Anti-heroes club. She is also the bell ringer at Dragon Hall.

She is left handed and a redhead who loves science, art, music, sweets, and things being fair. Which of course while paired with her beauty did not bode well for her due to how her father is.

She works at her father's crepes shop and is dreaming of the day she can escape with her friends.

She has a thing for Lefou Deux.

Richard 'Rick' Perseus Ratcliffe, the 21 year old son of Governor John Ratcliffe.

He is apart of Harriet's crew, The LeGume Hunting Club, and The Bad Apples.

He and his dad do not get along at all due to many factors—like his dad being racist and naming him after his dog. If anyone dare mention the origin of his middle name, they will get a black eye from him.

He had his own pug named Prometheus.

Once when he and Clay Clayton were young and rough housing, he accidentally knocked the other man out of a second story window at Hook's inlet. They're still friends though, surprisingly.

He also has a habit of saving people from water sources like John Smith, much to his father's annoyance.

He has two younger siblings (Rachel and Rory) and is very protective of them as well as the kids of his father's former crewmates who got stuck on the isle with him.

He is dating Mad Maddy.

Claymore 'Clay' Comrade Clayton, The 20 year old son of William Clayton.

He is a member of the Bad Apples, Harriet's crew, and The LeGume Hunting Club.

Though unlike his dad he doesn't enjoy poaching or being crueler than necessary when hunting because it makes him uncomfortable, so he avoids doing it.

He loves graffiti and sailing and the jungle as well as tree climbing, rope swinging—on vines—, and partying. He also likes carving his intails into things and rough housing.

Especially with Rick and Anthony.

He and Rick once overdid it and he ended up getting thrown through a window, which no one has let them live down since.

He and his dad have a volatile relationship, which is arguably better than what most kids on the isle have, though those in Auardon would argue that that's still bad. He gets along alot better with his aunt and brothers though and has no clue who his mother maybe.

He has no problem with speaking his mind, which gets him in trouble often. He has tons of weapons as well as a stuffed grollia and would get along swimmingly with Tarzan and Jane, and their family. Especially their son, Taylor, who is just as rambunctious as he is.

He doesn't have the best grades but he's a good person and arguably Ginny's conscious, and that's all that matters, right?

Also he's terrified of getting hung like his dad and the idea of drowning again.

He's protective of his younger brothers, Cassius and Wilson, and is dating Ginny Gothel.

Jadeana 'Jade' of Agrabah, the 19 year old daughter of Nasira and the niece of Jafar.

She is in Harriet's crew and is the messenger of the isle, so no one really messes with her.

She's a bit of a loner but when she cares about people, she cares about them deeply—i.e. Jay. She'd help him steal so he could stock Jafar's shop quicker and so he would get hit or have to sleep outside. She rarely ever goes near Jafar's shop—since her mom who isn't all bad strictly forbade it—but when she does, it's to see Jay.

She was heartbroken when Jay left without saying goodbye but slowly over time she's gotten angry and bitter and resentful because she thinks he forgot about her.

She likes crocodile wrestling since it's an easy way to get out her aggression and she has two pets—a snake named Hassan and a parrot named Tygo.

She has magic but goes to Dragon Hall because she thinks the witch school is pointless on the isle.

Oh and she's dating Jonas Olympian (a member of Uma's crew).

Hermione 'Hermie' Leona Bing, the 14 year old daughter of The Ringmaster and Miss Atlantis.

She is a member of the Badun Detective Agency and as well as the Anti-heroes club.

She was an orphan by 7 and left to run what was left of her father’s circus on the isle.

She lives by herself with her animals in her father’s old trailer by the woods where the circus tents and trailers are located.

She is known as an animal whisperer and a Jack of all trades on the isle because she can do nearly every circus act there is.

She obsessed with circus related things—ESPECIALLY clowns.

She is in denial about the true nature of her parents' deaths and is emotionally and mentally unstable due them.

She has quite a sweet tooth—especially when it's traditionally considered circus food.

She collects glass figures as well as odd/deformed furniture, toys, and photos (along with just vintage photos in general) and loves colorful things.

She also loves reading, filing, painting, dagger throwing, acrobatics, gymnastics, dancing, playing games, and taking care of animals.

Her and Eddie Balthazar are dating.

Edmund 'Eddie' Seraiah Balthazar, the 15 year old son of Sarah Dear /Aunt Sarah and Edgar Balthazar.

He is apart of the Anti-heroes club and the Badun Detective agency.

He has alot of old school hobbies like croquet and crochet, golf, birdwatching, and collecting things. Things like stamps, coins, and bugs. He likes reading and listening to music and writing and he loves picnics, sewing, and knitting.

He had a litter of kittens that he adores as well as a motorcycle.

He also likes red wine, coffee, tea, champagne, slushie, hard candy, chicken pot pie, cigar, and toast with beans. Not that his parents know that he likes alcohol.

He usually shows little more than indifference to those outside his inner circle and has been taking care of his elderly parents (and their pets) since he was 9.

He is dating Hermie Bing.

Gaston Junior and Gaston the 3rd LeGume, the 21 year old sons of Gaston LeGume and Laurette. Aka Junior and Bronze.

They are hard heads lacking in education because of their father and can hold one hell of a grudge (as well as an ox) but have hearts of gold. When it comes to the people they care about that is.

They are both members of Harriet's crew and have many shared (and differing) hobbies.

They are very protective of their little brother (and sister) and their little cousins, even if they love getting under their skin at times.

Junior is dating Daphne Tremaine and Bronze is dating Sammy Smee.

Also Junior has a bad leg from trying to ram through the barrier with his dad.

Gemma Enchtra LeGume, the 3 year old (by d3) daughter of Gaston and the Enchantress. She is the younger half sister of the Gaston twins and Gil as well as the younger cousin of LeFou Deux, Claire Bimbette, and La Foux Doux (by default).

She is every bit as good, innocent, and bubbly as Gil is. She loves Magic, fruit, candy, roses, lifting rocks, animals, the forest, mirrors, and adores her older siblings and cousins with all her heart. She also loves her parents too despite not knowing them all too well.

Oh and she likes weight-lifting, though her elder family members don't allow her to do it.

And she loves mirrors as well and carries around the doll that her brothers and LeFou Deux made her.

She is my oc based on the toddler from d1.

[bethanydelleman]

Why did Frank Churchill hide his relationship with Jane Fairfax? Thanks.

Short Answer: Because Frank doesn't want to be disinherited.

Long Answer: Frank likely knows his father's history, while his mother wasn't disinherited because she already controlled her own fortune, she was disowned by her family. It was only her illness and death that reconciled Mr. Weston and the Churchills and ultimately led to Frank's adoption. He will not risk being thrown off himself.

Relevant quotes:

Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her fortune—though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate—was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with due decorum.

The boy had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after her decease

for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his father’s assistance.

Frank is clearly trying to bring his aunt around to the idea of him marrying where he pleases, but he has apparently failed on that front. The only hope he has left is that she will die soon. And we know her health has been declining throughout the novel so it’s not a crazy plan, but it is a morally distasteful one.

Relevant Quotes:

His [Frank’s] importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his aunt where his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and noticing it, he owned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he could with time persuade her to any thing. One of those points on which his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much to go abroad—had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel—but she would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. Now, he said, he was beginning to have no longer the same wish.

(The other point clearly being allowing him to marry where he wished)

Also, Frank can't tell his father a thing because aside from Miss Bates, Mr. Weston is Highbury's worst and least repentant gossip.

Relevant Quotes (Mr. Weston telling everyone a “secret”):

Mr. Weston’s parting words. “For the present, the whole affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”—Emma had promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty.

“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!—you need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret; and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you, but he said you knew it.”

“I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened.”

“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he [Mr. Weston]. “These matters are always a secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me be told when I may speak out.—I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.”

He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest daughter?—he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed, of course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon it would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the evening wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity.

This shows why Frank can’t tell his father. And Mr. Weston does travel to London, so his gossip may well find its way out of Highbury.

Does this make Frank a bad person? I mean, I don’t know. Frank keeping the engagement secret isn’t much worse than Edward Ferrars, though Frank does deliberately flirt with Emma to hide his status as engaged. Neither Frank nor Edward could marry if their mother/aunt disinherited them because the woman they are engaged to are so poor. However, in a society so concerned with familial duty, marrying against your parent/guardian’s wishes seems to be frowned upon.

I think Frank’s situation is slightly worse because he is banking on someone dying for him to be happy.

[giggle-me-this]

[ AFAR] - Harriet and Nate overhearing an argument or whatever you want honestly

@harrixtpinnock

(Yuletide Break, Year One)

January in New York City was frozen and grey. It was very early in the morning—too late to still be night, but still hours before dawn. The slate-colored haze of light that trickled through the windows was cold and unfeeling, making the sparse and austere interior of the Pinnock penthouse seem sharp-edged and two-dimensional; a film reel shot in stylish grescale noir.

The floor that Nate was sat on was made of a hard polished stone that retained the bitter cold of the winter air like it was harboring a grudge. He wished he’d thought to put on socks before coming out here; his bare feet where they touched the floor were so chilled they stung.

He’d been actually excited for their first holiday home from Ilvermorny. Which seemed insanely stupid, now that Nate and his sister had spent all of a few hours—on Christmas Eve at dinner and on Christmas morning—in the same room as their parents over the past two weeks. Nate didn’t know why he’d been naive enough to think the children’s presence might have been missed; one semester at boarding school and already it was as if their existence in their parents’ company was just a formality. Clearly, having the twins away at school for most of the year was preferable. Here, they were just a nuisance, in the way—an unsightly piece of decor that didn’t belong.

Their parents had always argued; that wasn’t anything new. It was almost a twisted sort of comfort, for Nate and Harriet to find themselves sat outside a closed door, listening to the muffled tones of their parents fighting on the other side of a wall—one thing that hadn’t changed, and probably never would. Right now they were screaming over each other, the dissonance making it impossible to make out anything besides individual words and phrases here and there.

Nate looked to the side and made eye contact with Harriet; they both had their backs to the wall and were sat on opposite sides of the door frame. She tucked some dark chocolate hair behind her ear and then pointedly ran her index finger along the shell of it, which meant ‘sounds bad.’ Nate and his sister had communicated using a made-up, nonverbal shorthand since they were little kids—not that they’d had much reason to use it in a while, outside the too-thin walls of the penthouse, where even the slightest unnecessary or frivolous noise would set their father off.

Nate blinked in agreement, and then touched the pad of his thumb to the inside of his left wrist: ‘Seems like it’s going to be a while.’

And it did go on like that for a while, until both eleven-year-olds were slumped against their individual patches of wall and their eyes were drooping, heavy. Noiselessly, Harriet yawned, and Nate glanced her way, reaching up to trace the highest point of his cheek to ask, ‘tired?’

Harriet’s nose twitched from side to side as she lied, ‘no’—and then they both jumped, startled awake by the sound of shattering glass on the other side of the wall. Harriet’s face was pinched and she was biting her lip so hard it looked like she might break skin as she exercised sheer, fierce willpower in preventing herself getting upset.

Nate pushed himself up off the ground, and walked a few silent steps until he was at her side. He sat down, and pulled his knees up to hug them, his legs already looking funny and too long to really pull the movement off. His sister leaned her weight against his side, and they focused on listening to the ambient, muffled clamor of the fight.

In the morning, they knew, there’d be no evidence of conflict; no shards of glass to find, no hostile words and raised voices being thrown about in the light of day. They’d go about the daily performance that was now their lives; pretending, ignoring, not seeing and not asking and not feeling and not caring.

The memory of the small warm spot where Harriet’s shoulder touched him, where a flyaway strand of her hair tickled his neck—come morning, those were the only things Nate would have to prove that he'd been here, that he existed. That anything had happened at all.

[truckreincarnation]

Game-Breaking Bug | Manami | 5.5

Ahaha… she figured some people might take issue with her idea, but it still stung to hear Harriet of all people shoot her down so decisively.

“B, but it wouldn’t! This- this ritual was the escalation! The sole, singular purpose the fifteen of you were summoned for was for half of you to die and be thrown out, and the other half conscripted into an army of super-powered soldiers to destroy my king, and the place I call home!”

“This was ALWAYS going to end with a dead king, and everyone else on the world map damn well knew that. Why do you think they’ve been so quick to leverage it for their own ends? And I mean, everyone hated Calum. It’s kind of surprising he lived as long as he did…”

“A treasonous group of powerful rebel Incarnates is far more dangerous, and far more useful to them, than a known agent of the country Calamity was already at war with. But if you insist, I… hehe, oh, I’m sure he’d be happy to see me back there so soon, I, I could make it there in double time…! Nobody could stop me, I could!!”

Manami snaps her fingers, and her erratic jittering becomes supernaturally fast. She flits around the group in a way that, combined with her visual glitches, is almost headache-inducing to keep up with. She actually does take off like she’s seriously thinking about bailing mid-discussion, but Germain gives her pause.

“Well, you’re right about killing the nobles! That is a big part of our plan, after all. Nobody who would continue the old regime can be permitted the chance to do so. Gotta strike while the iron is hot, you know? And we have all of the irons in the fire. All of them!”

“This war will end. The capital is as good as ours. Whether we conquer it or tear it to the ground… Anything we can do is better than those bastards deserve, tormenting us Incarnates all this time… Ahhh, maybe it’s not too late to kill a couple of them personally…?”

Manami cups a cheek to her hand, clearly also getting lost in thought for a moment.

“Really, getting to return from the Abyss from whence they came isn’t anywhere near as bad as what they’ve been doing to us. And to their own people! No rotting corpses, no mess to clean up… just oblivion. Like taking a little nap. They won’t even know anything hit them.”

Her little reverie continues for a moment, daydreaming about Unfathomable Violence, before Germain’s next line of questioning snaps her out of it.

“B-but!! Yes! I have been completely upfront about the North being a safe place for both Bound and Incarnates, and that hasn't changed! I won’t force you to go there, but I do really really recommend it, at least while this all blows over. You’ll be welcome there. I swear it on my (work in progress) Demon King doujin series!”

On her- you know what, nevermind, that tracks.

“Last Haven… what a stupid name for that place. Seriously, that’s where Calum and like, all the dukes live. It’s more like ‘First Target!` Makes it really really icky that he’s using all those civilians as human shields! Yuck! I sure hope you trust that friend of yours to use some discretion when it comes to who they’re saving. I’d hate to have to hunt down more Summoners personally!”

“So, Germantlers, tee-bee-aich…? I can fly faster than you can personally mobilize, and I know exactly where I’m headed, and I could send all of the little letter birdies out on some inane deliveries… well, assuming they’re even functional anymore, because, wow, this address is no longer in use, lol! ... Ahem. All that to say… Right now, I’m in a position where my king’s plan to destroy Last Haven is about to go off without a hitch. It doesn’t really make any sense for me to be negotiating with you right now. It’s really not my problem if the shattered pieces of Calamity end up in a power grab instead of united under my king’s decisive rule.”

“I personally think doing this my way is gonna stop things way sooner, it's just… well, ooooone last little big boom of casualties and then no more fighting! Yay!”

“Seriously, nobody wins if this ends in a shattered power grab split between like, four other countries! The people everyone seems to care sooo much about protecting are gonna be caught in the middle of something even worse. We plan for peace once the war with Calamity is over. It’s going to be tense, sure, but we want the senseless violence to end too. It’s not our fault that retaliation is the only language the people with power in Calamity understand!”

“...”

“... Ahaha. But I’m a stupid, sentimental, silly girl. I… I really have valued everyone’s friendship here! Even yours. Even now! I… I don’t want to, but… I do want to…

“Y, you already said you didn’t… you don’t have a plan. What solution do you possibly think we could come up with together right now?!”

The visual stutter coupled with her haste gives off the distinct illusion of a pained expression trying to break free from her angrier, more determined core. But that’s probably just the visual weirdness.

Her entire body is shaking. It looks wrong. Her claws flicker, clenched, open, shut, red, blue, redblueredblue.

"This is… this is a courtesy…! I'm not offering this because I care about your stance on this as... as someone with a claim to representing the opposing state! I'm doing this for you out of respect for what remains of our friendship. Go ahead. Tell me why I should negotiate with you.”