#how are they supposed to know the consequences of their actions!!!! OH MY POOR SISTERS ALL I WANTED WAS FOR THEM TO BE TOGETHER Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[thebigqueer]

'i choose wrong every time' jinx tells vi to jump and she doesnt and then she loses both vander and jinx oh my god im so dead. vi is so tragic

[kawaiipienerdfreak]

I'll never believe your tears, Sunday.

edit: i was given a great analogy to zuko from avatar, and now i'm not so critical. thanks everyone for your attention

I want to say this upfront: as a character, Sunday works perfectly fine for me. But I absolutely can’t stand how the fandom obediently swallowed such a stupid retcon of his character. And I can’t stand fandom stripped him of all blame. Time and time again, I see posts like: “Oh, my precious little sunshine! Don’t cry... Oh no, he’s crying in his ultimate! He didn’t deserve this, poor thing!”

And I’m left wondering: what the hell?

What the hell was HoYoverse thinking when they gave us a dictator with a god complex (borderline chūnibyō syndrome) as an antagonist? A character who defended someone who sold children into slavery. Someone who mocked a slave for their origins. Someone who placed himself above the local police and even above the very creator of Penacony. All while chaos reigned under his (and Family’s) rule in Penacony. Within Penacony, everything’s a mess: banditry, alcoholism, shady financial dealings. Criminals hide from the hounds in the Dreamscape, and Sunday defends them, driving the hounds away. Many people work for pennies, losing any chance at a better future. And some have even been dragged back after death, turned into lifeless husks just to serve as local attractions.

Sunday knows how to act righteously, but he chooses to do things his own way instead. That’s his whole arc. He became a god (boss version) for the Dreamscape and felt zero guilt over the fact that Penacony under his rule remained a pit of sin and filth, far from any kind of paradise.

And then, we defeat him. He regrets... but only regrets losing. His remorse isn’t about what he did—it’s about being beaten. He’s ready to do it all over again, just with a different strategy.

So again, what the hell?

Why does HoYoverse give us a character like this (admittedly fascinating because he’s ridiculously stubborn, manipulative, selfish, and unhinged), only to suddenly turn him into a martyr, a lamb, and a tragic victim we’re supposed to feel sorry for? Poor Sunday, who only wanted the best but ended up dooming everyone to suffer. They’re so insistent about making us pity him that it’s disorienting. What’s the point? No one’s going to believe it. He locked his own sister in a cage, justified slavery, carried out vigilante justice, and controlled the fates of millions. No one’s going to believe he’s a victim...

Except they d i d. And that’s what pisses me off the most. People have forgotten that just a year ago, he was the thorn in everyone’s side, deliberately hurting those around him with glee. Now they call him “sunshine,” “poor thing,” “precious baby.” They wipe his tears during his ultimate move, saying he doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned, doesn’t deserve to face the consequences of his actions. Are you all out of your minds?

Why didn’t Kokolia get a chance? Why didn’t Tisok 2 get a chance? (Tisok 2 is from a side quest about a ruler whose memories were erased. In it, we’re shown that she was a tyrant before losing her memory. The NPCs ask us, “Does she deserve redemption?” And no matter what, the NPCs will yell, “No, absolutely not!” Funny. She doesn’t deserve it, but Sunday does?)

The idea that he isn’t to blame is also questionable. He and Robin grew up under the same person’s wing. Robin was constantly told her perspective was wrong, yet did she grow up as a submissive follower? No, she grew into a truly strong person capable of thinking for herself. But Sunday? He basked in the praise for his bad decisions. He’s just an overgrown brat who decided the world is his playground.

So no, I will never believe in his redemption. I will never believe he’s changed. HoYoverse can’t convince me that he’s repented or truly regrets his sins, because as long as he’s free and has done nothing for society, it’s all meaningless.

He will never have a place on my Express. The Express will never be his home. He will never stand among the people who’ve become my family.

[sukibenders]

https://www.tumblr.com/sukibenders/753357046866411521/seeing-marina-gush-to-penelope-about-how-in-her

marina knew Pen feeling towards Colin. I know probably you had been in love and the other person doesnt love you back but i did. And it so painful to see another person making fun if that love you have. marina did that with the unrequited fantasy line . And now, don`t play it like marina really care or love Pen. There, Marina was making fun of Pen too, she was wishing her a life without love. it was Eloise wish to remain spinster but not Pen, she wanted love with all her heart and marina want her to be there watching her married with the man she loves with her friend being a spinster!! BE FOR FUCKING REAL!!!!

(This is going to be long)

No, no, no, let's not solely villainize Marina and go "Oh, sweet Penelope" as if she [Pen] isn't grown enough to know the extent of some of her actions. That's a big reason why I can't stand her character is because of the way fans deny her actions having consequences in comparison to others. I've never said that Marina wasn't wrong for what she did, such as attempting to marry someone and pretending their kids are yours, that's wrong on a lot of levels. But this is set in the Regency era where women don't have many choices, especially in her standing. She was literally about to be thrown out on to the street if she didn't find a suitor. And I'm supposed to care more about Pen getting her feelings hurt over a crush that, sorry, was unrequited at the time? I don't think so. Again, painting Penelope as the poor victim gets really annoying because, okay yeah, she has a crush. Everyone does in life. But that doesn't give her a right to act entitled to said crush's feelings at every turn (nor does it give the fandom the right to do so either), it doesn't give her the right to try and sabotage any other attempts said crush might have with other people behind their back, and it doesn't give her the right to expose their information on a public gossip sheet for everyone to see (both Marina's and Colin's). People get so caught up in Penelope's feelings, and demonizing Marina in the same breath, but also don't take into consideration the impact, while not as severe as Marian's, of what Penelope did to Colin as well (when they aren't busy villainizing him) I'm sorry, but me personally, I wouldn't want to be around someone who leaked private information about me (and someone I was close too) and then continued to talk about it on their gossip sheet, reaped the financial benefits of it, and gave me fake sympathies knowing they were the cause just because they had a crush. Would you? Let's be for fucking real, as you say.

And I'll be honest, I do extend a little more grace towards Penelope now than I did back in the day, but not my much. I would be more inclined of her ending up with Colin if her actions were rightfully called out and she had to work through the consequences of them. But no, that can only happen in fanfic because, apparently, it's wrong to view her actions under anything but a sympathetic lens. And, back to your point, correct me if I'm wrong, but Marina gushing to Penelope earlier in the season about Colin, after their first dance and no realization of Penelope's crush, held no mean attributes to it. Her statement was meant to create a loving bond because, whether you like it or not, Marina and Penelope were close because Marina didn't make fun of her or downplay her at every turn like her mother and sisters. Marina knew exactly how it felt to live under that household, saw a perfect opportunity for escape, and in that escape, not only, thought of bringing Penelope with her or at least providing her shelter, but with her best friend, of whom we can assume Marina knows more about Eloise than she did Penelope's relationship with Colin, because that wasn't revealed until later. So no, Marina did truly care about Penelope. Bringing it back to Colin, who made it clear that, at that point, he had feelings for Marina (and don't deny that he did) why should she throw that away over some crush? Like yeah, what Marina said was a little harsh (and she does apologize later for it), but you're ignoring the fact that, prior to this, Penelope made every attempt she could to be spiteful and rain on Marina's joy (again, before the crush was found out), even turning any positive compliment that Marina gave her as some form of pitty, which it wasn't. At that point, I'd be annoyed too and Marina was far better than me at those points. Now, again, I state this was the Regency era and Marina was running out of time with the only good and less dangerous option of a good life growing farther and farther away, she has to make tough decisions because it's not only about her but her unborn children as well, and I'm supposed to feel more sympathy for Penelope? Her calling Penelope's crush a "childish fantasy" came about when Penelope was trying to withhold Marina from doing something that could have ended up with her finding a good life because Philip showing up was something that no one expected and she was led to believe that Goerge no longer cared for her anymore. But she was supposed to throw that away over a crush? And calling it what it is, even if it was harsh, was not Marina making fun of Penelope. Let's not.

Yes, I have had crushes before, but in no way did I act THAT entitled to someone as a person, especially enough to where I purposely risked someone's life and have said crush still not even consider my feelings. And even if they did, that still doesn't warrant that behavior, and I'm tired of people justifying what Penelope did. I've had a crush on someone, they didn't know about it, moved on with different people one being my friend and you know what I did? Worked on moving on too, because they both were happy for however long they were together, the crush wasn't entitled to returning my feelings, and I knew at a certain point that I had to let go. Was it kind of sad to see Marina diss Penelope's feelings like that? Yeah. And would it hurt if someone did that to me? Yes, but I also won't lie and pretend that that could have been a reality check for Penelope if the show did right. I would have wished that Penelope didn't realize that so late, but sadly that didn't happen. And it's also sad that the fandom to won't let her have an opportunity to move on because, what do you mean Marina was denying her love? I'm sorry, but love exist in many other forms, which Penelope had, and even without Marina in the picture, Colin is clearly shown to not reciprocate Penelope's feelings that way. It's sad how dependent Penelope and some fans feel about that, when it's been shown that, when she tries (get into that later), Penelope can attract people outside of Colin. Personally, at a certain point way before s3, I would've been trying to do that a long time ago. Now, because you said that Penelope didn't want to be a spinster, the statement is kind of laughable because, until s3, we hardly see Penelope make any attempts to find a match with someone who isn't Colin, who still isn't returning her feelings. In fact, we hardly see her with anyone who isn't Eloise, and there are more scenes of her dodging attempts to find a suitor than actually looking for one. She literally uses Marina as a shield in s1 to prevent from doing so so that she can spend time with Eloise! (Ngl, if my friend did that for most of our lives, I too would think that she would want to be a spinster, but Eloise still could have talked about it more with her). It also ignores how, when Colin entered Marina's life again and basically went "Hey, I'm not against playing the second step daddy" Marina still went and pushed him to go and be with Penelope, even though, from what we can assume, they probably haven't seen each other since Marina got married and had her twins.

The reason I don't care much for Polin is because I hardly get to see much growth on Penelope's side at all in the ship, especially due to the fandom making it their life's mission to make Colin grovel for every little thing (some in which he really shouldn't). We got to see opportunities even before s3 of her associating with other characters, one being with Marina and the other being Edwina but they all get thrown out the window as soon as Colin enters the fray. Heck, even when around Eloise, as soon as Colin is mentioned or shows up she's eager to dip and make her way over. She wanted love with all her heart WITH COLIN. She had opportunities to be with other people, but she wanted Colin so bad that she was willing to do anything. Perhaps if the fandom addressed this, if they stopped trying to paint her actions as overly sympathetic and let her be morally complex, then I could get behind it. But no, we have to put the blame on others.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 18- Part 14

CW: suicide mention, blood

“Perfuma” seems appropriate for a Spritzee, being all about scents and perfume and all. Though, I can't help but feel like Perfuma is also the name of a character from…some other piece of media, I just can’t put my finger on it…

At any rate, here’s the PokéDex entry:

Beautiful little creature. Now, out of Sweet Scent and back out onto he streets.

Ah…that there’s a small crowd gathered. I think I know what the commotion’s all about..but let’s talk with these NPCs to confirm.

Yup- yeah…yeah, he’s gotta be up there. But…we’ve also found the Gym, too. What’s the sign have to say?

The library- well, if this is Shelly’s Gym, then that seems pretty fitting for her, she seems like a…quiet but studious type, based on the last time we saw her, way back when.

There are three kinds of people, according to Lapis Ward. But more importantly, I…can tell where Corey landed, I think. But Shelly’s there too- oh gosh, she’s not seeing the dead body, is she?? I, uh- wait, I can procrastinate a bit more! Street sign!

Aaaah- yeah, no more putting it off, I suppose. Time for Xera to face the consequences of her own actions and others’ actions- at least the body is censored by the convenient placement of the Gym, but that sure is a substantial bloodstain regardless. Oh, poor Shelly…

Gosh…wait, Shelly is Heather’s friend, right? So she’s like…around Heather’s age, I’d presume? And if Heather is twelve years old, that means Shelly’s probably twelve too, which means- OH NO! Now she’s gonna be haunted by this too! I’m fairly certain she doesn’t deserve that!

What the- hey! It’s those two from Mosswater! I see you two skulking around up there, you’re not slick, despite the rain! What are they up to?

So that fire-haired guy is named Cal- I wonder how he knows Shelly? I doubt they’re brother and sister (though I won’t entirely rule that out, genetics in fiction can be weird sometimes)- maybe he’s just a general legal guardian? Someone has to be looking after Shelly if she’s a literal child. Either way, he’s saying exactly what I’m thinking, so thank you for that, Cal-

Previous

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[fanfiction-collection]

okay this got really long so it's getting a read more link for everyone's sanity

[You did care. You cared so much, you thought you might throw up.] - I feel sol in this one. I hope one day she fully realises that Ingrid isn't going to desert her 🥺

[He’d already let the boys go with a warning. He hadn’t even called their parents.] - these people have got to stop being so mean to sol while showing favouritism to others, she doesn't deserve this 😔

[Mapi asked bitingly, scowling at the man on the other side of the desk] - you tell him Mapi. I love seeing protective Mapi for her sol <3

[You told her, watching as her face hardened.] - Mapi switching from compliant to just doing what's best for sol regardless of the consequences when she realises what the dean is like is so <3

[Her girlfriend picked up astoundingly quickly considering she was supposed to be training] - Ingrid ready to support her sister instantlyyyy, things we love to see

[There wasn’t a fight you’d gotten into that you didn’t have to take care of your own cuts and bruises. No one ever heard you out, no one was ever not mad at you.] - poor sol has really been through so much

[she was back to being the Mapi you knew] - Mapi 🥰 knowing just what to do to make sure sol is comfortable and taken care of in every way

[So, you laid on the couch, your head in your sister’s lap] - this scene is so domestic and sweet, it's just such nice vibesss

[trying to breathe through the panic that always accompanied honesty] - I feel such a weird sense of pride when Sol is honest about her feeling, like wow, look how far she's come

[Scout was perched on the end of your bed protectively, and Bagheera was curled up against your chest] - good animals 😌

[You knew she was faking her dislike of your dog at this point, but it was more fun to go along with it] - always the same with the "we're not getting a dog" people 😌

[It was something Mapi’s eyes did and while you weren’t sure how Ingrid had picked that up from her girlfriend, there was no question in your mind that she had] - that's so cute 😭

[I would drop everything to get to you. So would María] - something about the way Ingrid speaks so confidently for herself and Mapi that Sol is their biggest priority <3

[“I know you’ve felt really alone these last few years. But you aren’t anymore, okay? I’m right here with you.”] - oh I love them, this is so sweet

[“Just don’t tell-” / “AHEM.” Mapi cleared her throat from the doorway] - perfect comedic timing from Mapi lmao

[You and Ingrid pulled yourselves together, forcing serious expressions onto your faces.] - again, I love how well they all get on enough that they can know when to team up to annoy the third person 🫶

[“Ingrid,” she cried, overcome with panic.] - them both jumping into action and Mapi being the worried one in the situation! I love it all

[She wondered, poking your cheek a few times as your eyes remained firmly shut] - this imagery is such a change to the serious circumstances and Mapi's worry, just imagining her curiously prodding at sol's face 😭

[all thoughts of being afraid of getting in trouble for breaking the picture frame] - it's sad that Sol is already worrying about this at 8 years old, her mum has already established the norm :(

[making sure the picture was unharmed] - dedicating this to my neighbour who checked her hedge was okay while 8-year-old me was crying and bleeding on the pavement beside her lol

[Do you feel sick?] - the dichotomy of their mum being shocked when Sol throws up at seeing blood vs Ingrid expecting and preparing for it 🥺 only one of them deserves Sol

[Ingrid realized that her love for María Pilar León Cebrián had grown exponentially in the past few months] - Mapi rightfully earning that almost favourite person status from both Engens :)

give yourself a reason

engen!reader memories, and the present. changes. sol reflects on how different her life is now. good different. even if getting to the good was hard. here she is.

warnings: discussions of depression. sol gets into a fight. with people, and then a mug and a picture frame so, some blood.

------

It was a bit of a deja vu moment, honestly. You were sitting in the dean’s office once again, only a couple months after the last time. Then, you had been pretending you didn’t care. A lot had happened since, and a casualty of the progress you’d made was that you could no longer pretend not to care. You did care. You cared so much, you thought you might throw up. 

You’d begged them not to call Ingrid. Begged. They had anyway. You couldn’t help but worry about her reaction to this most recent fight, though it hadn’t been your fault. You hadn’t been in trouble since everything had happened, and you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Would everything change? Would Ingrid still want you? Every set back you had, every mistake you made, had you convinced that Ingrid was going to change her mind, and send you back to Norway. You were working on it, thinking of yourself as worthy of their love, but it wasn’t easy, and you felt your eyes stinging with tears that had nothing to do with the beating your face had taken. 

You weren’t sure you could go back to not feeling loved, not when you’d been experiencing something so different recently. The dean didn’t seem to care that your face was rapidly swelling, that you were crying, or that you hadn’t stopped bouncing your knee since you’d been brought into the office. He’d already let the boys go with a warning. He hadn’t even called their parents. You didn’t know what to do when Ingrid arrived, didn’t know whether to try to explain, or to stay quiet and just take your punishment. 

You felt so weak, suddenly. Crying, in front of this absolute asshole? Normally, you’d never let a person you didn’t know well see you this emotional, but your face really hurt, and honestly, you just wanted a hug. You were pretty terrified, though, that you wouldn’t get one. 

That you didn’t deserve one. 

The speaker in the office crackled to life, then, and the secretary’s voice rang out into the room. “Ms. Engen’s guardian is here.” 

The dean took a break from glaring at you to hit the button on the speaker. “Send her in.” 

You directed your gaze at the ground and tried to make yourself as small as possible, hearing the door open behind you.

“Mi sol, are you okay?” Mapi said instantly, moving quickly into the room and crouching down next to your chair. You refused to look at her, and she knew she had to be careful about this. Mapi showing up instead of Ingrid was a relief, but only for a moment. Then, you were just worried that she was too mad to come get you. 

“I was expecting the elder Ms. Engen,” the principal began, though he was quickly interrupted by your sister’s girlfriend. 

“Ingrid couldn’t get away from work, and I am a guardian too. Her face is bleeding, and her hands. Has she been seen by the nurse?” Mapi asked bitingly, scowling at the man on the other side of the desk. 

He looked a little put out. “Well, no, we were-” 

“Jesus, she could have a concussion.” Mapi snapped, her gentle hand on your back completely contradicting her sharp tone.   

“I don’t think-” 

Mapi ignored his response completely, slowly moving her hand up and down your back. You were shaking, and Mapi knew that if she wanted to avoid a panic attack, she had to do something, soon. 

“Mi sol?” she asked in a much softer tone, frowning when you shook your head. You knew if you looked at Mapi you’d burst into tears, and you absolutely did not want to do that in front of the dean. 

Mapi thought for a minute, before she turned back to the man. “Can we have a minute please.”

It wasn’t really posed as a question, and the man frowned at Mapi before nodding somewhat indignantly and walking out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, you looked up, breaking Mapi’s heart with the terrified look on your face, and the rough sob that fell from your lips.  

“Oh, nena,” Mapi sighed, seeing the extent of the damage to your face for the first time. It was mostly bruises and a very swollen lip. Your knuckles were swollen, too, but there were very few cuts on your face, and for that, she was glad. Mapi’s hands flitted over your face, her own scrunched with worry. “I’m so sorry this happened.” 

“Is Ingrid mad? Is that why she isn’t here?” You choked out.

Mapi shook her head, carefully wiping a tear off your face. “No, no, she couldn’t get away from training. She isn’t mad, I promise, she sent me to come bring you to her so she could see you were okay.” 

“Are you sure she’s not mad?” 

“I promise, cariño. She is not mad at you.” Mapi replied seriously. “Tell me what happened.” 

“They came at me, Mapi, I promise I didn’t start it.” You cried, almost pleading with her to believe you. 

“I believe you, I believe you.” The Spaniard soothed. “Where are they?” 

“He let them go with a warning.” You told her, watching as her face hardened. She seemed to think for a minute, before she stood, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you to your sister. Ingrid and I will come back later to speak to the dean and see the security footage. Venga.” 

“Mapi, I’m in trouble,” you tried to tell her, but she just shook her head. 

“Not with us. We’ll deal with it later, I promise. I want to get you taken care of and calmed down first, and I don’t think I can do that here.” Mapi told you gently, pulling you out of the room when you nodded hesitantly. You hadn’t realized you were shaking intensely until Mapi had mentioned getting you calmed down. You supposed you were getting close to a panic attack, and just hadn’t noticed. 

You continued to tune out as Mapi led you out of the office, standing in front of you protectively when she addressed the dean. 

“Ingrid and I will be back later to discuss the situation. We’re leaving now.” She told him. 

He looked at her with an incredulous expression on his face. “She can’t just leave, we have to discuss her punishment.” 

“We can discuss it later.” Mapi repeated, turning without another word towards the door, guiding you out of the school. 

Once you were out the door, Mapi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, steadying your shaky steps. “Alright, we’re almost to the car, just hang on, okay?” 

You could only nod in response, starting to lose yourself in your head, clinging tightly onto Mapi. Time seemed to speed up, or skip ahead entirely as suddenly you found yourself in the passenger seat of the car, your sister’s girlfriend buckling your seatbelt for you. 

“In and out, nena. Just breathe. Everything is okay. No one is upset with you.” Mapi was saying, waiting for you to give a faint nod before she made her way over to the driver's side door. It was quiet in the car save for the hum of the engine and the gasping inhales and exhales coming from you every few seconds. 

“Tell me what you’re worried about.” Mapi instructed, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ingrid- Ingrid is gonna be mad and make me go back to Norway,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as another wave of panic washed over you.

“That is not going to happen.” Mapi said confidently, grabbing her phone and clicking Ingrid’s contact. Her girlfriend picked up astoundingly quickly considering she was supposed to be training, and her voice over the phone made you both terrified and reassured at the same time. 

“We’re in the car, she was too upset, we can come talk to the dean later.”

“What do you mean she’s too upset? Is she okay?” Ingrid asked worriedly. 

“Talk to her.” Mapi instructed, holding the phone out to you. You looked at her pleadingly, but she just nodded encouragingly, eyes fixed on the road in front of her. “It’s okay, nena, just tell Ingrid what you told me.” 

Ingrid could tell when you took the phone, as she could suddenly hear your rapid breaths as you gulped in air and tried to get the words out. “Hey, it’s just me. You can tell me.” Ingrid said softly. 

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Mapi’s thumb tracing over the back of your hand instead of the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “M’ scared you’re mad and you’re going to send me back to Norway.” 

“I’m not mad. This wasn’t your fault, just like the last one wasn’t, and I am not angry with you. You are not going back to Norway. You are staying right here with me and Mapi. You’re okay, Solstråle, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You said, nodding your head as you replayed her words over and over in your head. “Okay.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I have to go, but Mapi is bringing you over, okay? I’ll see you soon.” 

Mapi quickly bid her girlfriend a goodbye before hanging up, though her hand didn’t release yours for the rest of the car ride. 

Getting to the Barça grounds was somewhat of a blur, and before you knew it, Mapi was leading you to the pitch where Ingrid was running drills. When Ingrid spotted you, loitering on the sidelines, she spoke a few quick words to Jona before making her way over.. You were half hidden behind Mapi, which was no accident, but the concern on Ingrid’s face brought another round of tears to your eyes. You stepped forward anxiously, bottom lip beginning to wobble. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ingrid sighed, getting a quick look at the wounds on your face before you were barrelling into her and wrapping your arms tightly around your sister. “Hey, it’s okay.” She whispered, running her hand through your tangled hair in a soothing manner. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you blubbered. If you had been even a smidge calmer, you would have been embarrassed about sobbing into your sister’s training kit in front of most of the team. 

“Don’t apologize, Solstråle. Everything is okay.” She soothed, looking over your shoulder at Mapi, before pulling away from the hug to examine your face. She frowned deeply at the damage that had been inflicted, trying to shove her anger down. It would only scare you further, and you really didn’t need that right now. 

“It hurts,” you whimpered, flinching as Ingrid’s finger accidentally made contact with an already forming bruise. The way you were acting was so out of character for you, Ingrid felt her worry growing by the second. You were so upset, you were shaking and sobbing. It hadn’t really occurred to anyone how triggering this might be for you, what a reminder this fight would be. Not just of what had happened a few months ago, but of your time in Norway. There wasn’t a fight you’d gotten into that you didn’t have to take care of your own cuts and bruises. No one ever heard you out, no one was ever not mad at you. 

A fight had been the last straw before you were sent to Spain, and it was as if all the feelings you’d repressed during those occasions were flooding back through your body, until your nervous system was in overdrive. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid said again, trying to get your attention back on her. You hummed in response, forcing your eyes to focus on your sister. “Two options, okay? We can have the physios patch your face up, or we can go see a doctor. What would you prefer?”

It was something Mapi had read in her definitely-not-a-parenting parenting book. Giving you options in a situation you were anxious about forced you to calm down a bit, and choose. It gave you a sense of control, while still ensuring that you did what had to be done. 

“Physios.” You told her, after just a minute of consideration. “Go back to training, Ingrid. I’ll be okay.” 

You were trying to be brave, Ingrid could tell. She allowed you this façade, and with both an encouraging smile and a promise that she’d come see you in a minute, she ran back to the pitch. Mapi led you inside, her arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. 

The physios were a tolerable experience, completely allowing Mapi to direct them. They didn’t touch you unless you agreed, each time asking before they made sure your lip was okay, or inspected a forming bruise. You very rarely got to see intense Mapi off the pitch, and it was interesting to see it now. When she spoke to the physios, asking question after question about your injuries, she was dead serious. When she turned to you, though, to shoot you an encouraging smile or squeeze your hand, she was back to being the Mapi you knew. 

She took care of you like you were her own. 

------

Upon returning home, Ingrid refused to let you retreat to your room and hide yourself away. You’d spent too long alone, when you’d first arrived. She was going to support you, and she intended to prove that. 

So, you laid on the couch, your head in your sister’s lap, a Norwegian sitcom playing on the TV. Ingrid was holding ice to one of your eyes, glaring down at you anytime you tried to remove the other ice laid across your knuckles. Mapi was making pancakes in the kitchen, at your request. Scout was on the floor next to the couch, though he picked his head up to check on you every few minutes. 

You were home, and you couldn’t help but compare today to the last time.

Ingrid had come to the school, and been furious at you. Today, she was furious for you. 

They’d left you that night, to go off to some team dinner. Now, you weren’t quite sure that Ingrid was going to let you out of her sight for at least a few days. 

You’d been alone, then, and now you weren’t. 

And though today had been pretty horrific, it was another little reminder of how different everything was. You loved those reminders, and you got them often. You tried to remember each one, how good it felt. To be loved, to be seen. To be liked. To be cared for. It was new, and it always surprised you a little. Every time something happened, and you remembered what it had been like to be alone, Ingrid and Mapi were there to remind you that you weren’t anymore. 

-

-

-

It was just one of those days. 

You wanted to stay home, like you wanted to on that day. Before, when everything in the house had been tense and you’d barely spoken to your sister. School had been difficult back then, not that it wasn’t now, but more difficult. Ingrid knew how much you were struggling, but assumed it was a lack of effort on your part. And so, when you quietly asked her if you could stay home because you weren’t feeling the best, Ingrid hadn’t believed you. 

“Ingrid, please. I really don’t feel well.” You begged, fighting back the tears that were pricking at your eyes, even though you knew that they would probably help your case. 

“How? What doesn’t feel well?” Ingrid asked, trying to be patient. Your hatred of school was starting to bother her. She didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just try a little harder. At your work, and at making friends. 

You floundered for a minute, not sure how to describe what you were feeling. You supposed the word was depressed, but there was no way you’d admit to that. Ingrid didn’t need to worry about you like you knew she would if she understood what was really going on. At the same time, you wished desperately that she would see through your excuses. 

You’d been silent for too long, and Ingrid sighed, zipping up her bag for training and walking over to you. She didn’t look sympathetic, exactly, but she didn’t look as harsh as she normally did. 

“I know school is hard. But skipping isn’t going to make anything better, okay? You just need to try a little harder.” She said, resting her hands on your shoulders and looking intently at your face. As usual, your expression gave very little away. All you gave her was a small shrug, before you picked your bag up with a sigh and headed for the car. 

You were trying your best. How couldn’t she see that?

It hit you similarly today, as it had on that day.

 You wanted to lay in your bed and not move. Your body was heavier than normal. Breathing was hard, moving was harder. All you could do was think. And think, and think, and think. It wasn’t sadness that you felt, not necessarily. It was exhaustion, and an almost numb ache. 

You were pretty sure Ingrid wouldn’t make you go to school if you told her the truth, you just weren’t really sure what to say. It was nearing the time you were supposed to leave for school, though, and you still hadn’t gotten out of bed. It would only be a matter of time before Mapi came in to see why you hadn’t left your room yet. So, you dragged yourself out of bed, your whole body feeling too heavy, and you walked downstairs. 

Ingrid was in the kitchen, eating breakfast while Mapi made all three of your coffees. Your sister turned to look at you, her good morning dying on her lips when she saw the look on your face. It must have been pretty bad, if Ingrid’s reaction was any indication. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ingrid asked, abandoning her breakfast to walk closer and place her hand on your forehead, checking for a fever. 

“No.” You said honestly, trying to breathe through the panic that always accompanied honesty. Mapi joined Ingrid in front of you, her brow creased in concern. She couldn’t figure out from looking at you what was going on, you just looked… wrong. Unlike yourself. 

“Are you sick?” 

“No. I just… I don’t feel right.” 

“What do you mean, Sol? What’s wrong?” Mapi asked, nudging Ingrid’s hand off your forehead to replace it with her own. 

“I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to go back to sleep.” You mumbled, a single tear falling down your face.

“Try to explain it to me?” Ingrid requested. You knew it was a request, though, and that made it easier to answer her. Her worry for you was coming off her in waves, and though you were pretty sure it was warranted, you didn’t want her to panic. 

“It’s just a bad day. I’ll be okay.”  

 Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances, before your sister nodded slowly. You often described tough mental health days as simply  bad days. You didn’t like to be overly descriptive, or really admit what was going on, and that was the closest you’d get. 

“Okay, kjære. Go back up to bed.” 

“Thanks,” you muttered, moving to turn away. 

“Wait,” Mapi said, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you into a hug that was probably too tight, but felt nice all the same. Mapi’s hugs were always comforting, always made you feel safe. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?” 

You knew what she was asking, and you tried to speak clearly, even with your chin resting on the Spaniard’s shoulder. “I will, promise.” 

As soon as Mapi had released you, Ingrid was pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that never really failed to make you emotional. You remember seeing your parents kiss her forehead when you were growing up. And while your parents never really did the same with you, Ingrid had. She was always willing to give you the love she was overflowing with, especially when you were sorely lacking it. 

“I love you, okay? Call me if you need me.” Ingrid said firmly, almost as if to reinforce how much she meant it. 

You agreed, promising yourself that you wouldn’t interrupt training. You knew they’d already be distracted by being worried about you, and you didn’t want to ruin their day anymore than you already were. 

The logical part of you knew this was ridiculous. It was getting easier and easier to identify unhealthy thoughts, but a part of you still believed them. Especially when you were already having a bad day. You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already were. 

You were the farthest thing from a burden for Ingrid and Mapi, but it was an almost insurmountable challenge to actually believe that. 

-------

You’d hoped, perhaps, that by resting right off the bat, you’d escape the worst of the depressive episode. This was a naive thought. Or maybe, you would have if you’d asked your sister to stay home with you. 

You really really didn’t want to be alone. It had been a while since you hadn’t felt safe around yourself, but here you were again. You thought you were done with this, over this. It was upsetting to realize that you weren’t, not completely. That this wasn’t something you could just… get over. It was a result of your brain chemistry as much as your lived experiences, and you could be smothered with all the love in the world. That wouldn’t fix the genuine problem inside your head. 

You were asleep when Ingrid got home. 

Her and Mapi weren’t expecting you to call them, even if you needed them, but they had texted you during a break and gotten no answer. Mapi tried not to speed home, but it was difficult when Ingrid was an anxious mess next to her in the passenger seat. 

Upon arriving home, Ingrid dumped her bag right in the entry hall, not bothering to put it away like she normally did, and went right up to your room, sighing in relief at the sight of you in front of her. Mapi was right behind her, melting a bit at the way Scout was perched on the end of your bed protectively, and Bagheera was curled up against your chest. Both of them were taking care of you, she was sure. Bagheera would get a treat and some extra pets, for sure. And Scout would too, but when no one was looking. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

You awoke to the feeling of someone brushing their fingers through your hair. The reaction you had was different now than it had been a month ago, and Ingrid had done the same thing. Then, you’d startled awake, not used to the gentle touch. Now, you just shifted slightly, content to stay asleep as Ingrid settled on the bed next to you. 

You felt Scout get off the bed, and Mapi begrudgingly agree to take him on a walk. You knew she was faking her dislike of your dog at this point, but it was more fun to go along with it and catch her napping with Scout or giving him extra treats. 

It was only when the cat sneezed rather dramatically on your chest that you cracked an eye open, unimpressed with the lack of decorum from Bagheera. Ingrid was trying to stifle her laughter and you rolled your eyes, stretching and wiping the imaginary sneeze particles off your face. 

“Hi.” You murmured, voice rough with sleep… and with crying, but you were hoping to keep that to yourself. 

Ingrid smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the edges in the way they'd started to recently. It was something Mapi’s eyes did and while you weren’t sure how Ingrid had picked that up from her girlfriend, there was no question in your mind that she had. “Hi. How are you?” 

You shrugged, the momentary distractions from your feelings fading as everything came screeching back into focus. 

“Have you been crying?” Ingrid murmured, eyes stuck on the tear tracks staining your face. 

“A bit. I’m fine.” You replied, trying your best to shake off her concern. 

“You should have called me.” Your sister sighed. 

You shook your head, sitting up against the headboard. It was then that you noticed for the first time that your sister was still in her training kit, when normally she’d shower and change after a session. Her and Mapi must have rushed home. The thought sent a weird feeling through your body; not bad… just different. 

 “No, I was fine. You had training, you can’t miss that for no reason.” 

“There's not no reason. You were having a bad day, and you needed us. Why didn’t you call?”

You shrugged, but Ingrid continued to stare at you, awaiting an answer. “I didn’t want to make you choose between me and football.” you mumbled, picking at a hangnail and avoiding eye contact with your sister. She grabbed your hand though, and used her other hand to tilt your chin up until you were looking at her. 

“There is no choice, Solstråle. I will always come when you need me. It could be the middle of the champions league final, or the middle of training, and I would drop everything to get to you. So would María.” 

You grew teary, trying your best to not cry again. “Okay.” Your voice broke, and Ingrid felt like a piece of her heart went with it. 

“Sol, I mean it. You are more important than any football match or training could ever be. More important than anything else could ever be. You are the most important thing to me.” 

Your expression grew disbelieving, almost stunned. “I’m not worth all that,” 

Ingrid tried not to groan in frustration. It wouldn’t have been fair to make you think she was upset with you, when she was upset with your parents, and with herself. “You are! Solstråle, you are worth that and more.” 

You were getting better, definitely. But your self esteem was always something you struggled with, something you always probably would. No matter how convinced you were, now, that Ingrid and Mapi loved you and wanted you in Spain with them, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were important to them. 

“It just… it wasn’t like that before. I’m not used to this.”

Ingrid’s face fell. “I know. I know you aren’t. But I promise you, sweetheart, even before, even when we argued all the time and I was so hard on you. I cared then just as much as I do now. I just didn’t understand how to help you. But I do now, right? It’s better now?” 

A more confident nod from you. “A lot better.” 

Your sister smiled gently. “I know you’ve felt really alone these last few years. But you aren’t anymore, okay? I’m right here with you.” 

There was something behind her words that felt like a promise, but it wasn’t necessarily a promise you needed to hear. It was one Ingrid had already made through her actions. And through the flood of doubts and insecurities, you knew that she wouldn’t break that promise. 

In that moment, you hated how hard it was for you to be vulnerable. How difficult it was for you to put words to your feelings, and express your appreciation and love for your sister. All you could do was try, though, right?

“Ingrid?” You mumbled after a minute of silence. Ingrid hummed in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand. “You… everything you’ve done for me. You’re just… you’re my favorite person. And I love you.” 

Ingrid could have sobbed, truly. She, too, had struggled to share her feelings her whole life, as you had. She knew just how much it took for you to say something so sincere, and not even make a joke after it. The brunette pulled you in closer to her, leaving a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You know that, right?” You wondered, after Ingrid hadn’t responded right away. She was trying to keep the deep emotion out of her voice, not wanting to make this moment even more difficult for you than she knew it already was. When you turned to look at her, though, catching her just as a tear slid down your face, you understood. 

“I do know, Solstråle. And I love you, so much, min perfekte lillesøster.” 

It didn't really matter as much, that you didn’t think you were perfect. Because for as long as you could remember, Ingrid had been the perfect one. And now she thought you were, too, and that was enough. 

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Ingrid added as an afterthought, pulling you into an even tighter hug. “Just don’t tell-”

“AHEM.” Mapi cleared her throat from the doorway. You whipped your head to look at her, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles at the sight of the very disgruntled defender standing in the doorway. “Well, your not favorite person just came up here to say that she was going to go get you both ice cream, but now…”

It was rather difficult to stop laughing, what with Mapi standing there with her arms crossed, a frown on her face, one foot stomp away from throwing a temper tantrum. You and Ingrid pulled yourselves together, forcing serious expressions onto your faces. 

“Mapi, I was just trying to make Ingrid feel better about herself. You are my favorite. Of course.” 

“Me too, mi amor. You are my favorite.” Ingrid grinned, before very obviously winking at you. 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Mapi turned on her heel and headed downstairs. “I am going to poison your ice cream.” She shouted over her shoulder. 

Mapi was far from upset. It was enough for her that you seemed a bit better, and that her girlfriend’s anxiety had definitely lessened. Although, the day had clearly taken its toll on you and Ingrid, because when Mapi arrived home with the ice cream, she found you both passed out in your bed, your head resting on your sister’s shoulder. 

-

-

-

You swore as you slipped in the small puddle of water on the kitchen floor, almost instantly losing your balance and falling with a thud. The mug you’d been holding fell, too, shattering on impact with the floor. You heard Ingrid call your name, evidently startled by the sound, and moved to sit up on instinct. Instead of putting your hand down on the cold floor, though, you smashed it right down into a pile of mug shards. 

“Jævel!” You shouted, almost jumping at the burst of pain and bringing your hand to your chest. It was bleeding heavily, and you gasped, startled by the amount of blood flowing out of your hand. “Ow, ow, ow,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid shouted from the top of the stairs. 

You tried to reply, but Mapi beat you to it, appearing in front of  you out of nowhere. “No, she cut her hand. Ven aquí! And bring a clean towel!” The Spaniard shouted, grabbing the broom from the closet and hastily sweeping the shards away from you so she could safely get closer. 

“I’m sorry, Mapi, I’m so sorry,” you said shakily, sure that you were about to be in trouble for not being more careful. The water spill was your fault in the first place, and then it was what you slipped on. Now, you’d broken one of their favorite mugs, and you were getting blood all over the kitchen. 

Mapi only had time to look at you, confused, before Ingrid came running into the room holding a hand towel from upstairs. 

“Jesus, Sol,” Ingrid murmured, crouching down next to where you were and reaching for your hand. You mistook her statement as one of frustration, and not one of worry, and flinched away from her in a way you hadn’t in a very long time. 

“I’m sorry Ingrid, I broke the mug,” you cried. 

Ingrid exchanged a look with her girlfriend, before turning back to you. There was blood all over your shirt, dripping down where your good hand cradled the injured one. Your face was frighteningly pale, and you looked completely terrified. Ingrid paused, though all she wanted to do was get some pressure on your hand, forcing herself to calm down a bit. She wasn’t sure why you were reacting the way you were, but she knew by now to take it seriously. 

“Don’t worry about the mug.” Ingrid said gently, holding her hand out again. “Let me see, Sol.” 

With a pained whimper, you placed your hand in hers. Only then did you look at the wound, and both Mapi and Ingrid watched in alarm as the remaining color drained from your face. 

Ingrid knew what was coming a second before it happened, hastily trying to cover your hand with the towel as you started to sway where you were sitting. “Fuck, she’s gonna pass out,” she warned, unable to catch you as she pressed the towel into your hand, trying to get the bleeding to stop. 

Mapi dropped to her knees just as your eyes rolled back into your head, and you fell limp into her arms. “Ingrid,” she cried, overcome with panic. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s just bad with blood.” Ingrid assured her. She pulled the towel away temporarily to look at your hand, and saw a long slice across your palm. It wasn’t deep, and though you might have nicked a vein, Ingrid was pretty sure you wouldn’t need stitches. Readjusting the towel over your hand, she tried to give her girlfriend a calming smile. “It’s really okay, María. I promise, she just really hates blood.” 

“She passed out!” Mapi yelped. “This does not feel okay!”

Ingrid bit back a laugh, knowing this wasn’t the time or the place. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes, just hold this towel while I get some water for her.” 

Mapi took over with the towel, allowing your head to drop into her lap as Ingrid walked across the kitchen. 

“Ingrid, do we have any smelling salts?” She wondered, poking your cheek a few times as your eyes remained firmly shut. 

“Why, yes, María, let me go check my potion making kit.” 

“I do not appreciate your sarcasm at the moment.” Mapi grumbled, again poking your face as your eyes started to scrunch together. You looked uncomfortable, and Mapi braced herself for you to wake back up and freak out again. Instead, you stayed unconscious for a few more seconds, unbeknownst to the Spaniard, reliving a memory you’d… kind of forgotten. 

When the picture frame shattered on the wood floor, all you felt was panic. It was panic that led you to lean down and try to collect the pieces of glass in your hands. A second, much quieter crash was heard as a piece of glass shifted in your hand, cutting your finger open. 

You’d never been good with blood, and you felt yourself getting lightheaded at just the sight of the small rivulets of blood forming across the cut. You shut your eyes tightly, all thoughts of being afraid of getting in trouble for breaking the picture frame flew out of your mind, and you were turning and shouting before you could stop yourself. 

“Mamma! Mamma!” You yelled, growing dizzier and dizzier. 

“Stop yelling, my goodness.” Mamma said, walking calmly into the room. She came to a sudden stop at the sight of the picture frame broken in front of you, before her face grew cold and mean. “What have you done!” 

“I-I- I bumped the table and it fell and I tried to clean it up, but my finger, Mamma,” you cried, missing the anger on your moms face and leaning towards her for comfort as she moved closer. 

“This is my favorite picture of your sister, couldn't you have been more careful! You are always breaking things, always making a mess. I am so tired of you and the stupid things you do when you don’t pay attention.” Mamma ranted, picking up the pieces of glass and making sure the picture was unharmed. “I should be the one crying, you broke my picture frame!” 

Your stomach twisted at her tone, and at the drops of blood that were hitting the floor at your feet. You tried to fight it, knowing it would only make her more upset, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Keeling over, you threw up on the ground, whimpering as your mother gasped in surprise. 

“What-”

“Mamma, my finger,” you sobbed, holding out the bloodied appendage towards your mother. 

Some of the confusion left your Mamma’s eyes, knowing just how poorly you handled any kind of injury, on anyone. 

“Oh, goodness. Come with me.” She said, not completely unkindly as she led you into the kitchen. There, she wrapped your finger up with a dish towel, holding pressure on it as you sniffled and hiccuped. She brushed a few flyaways out of your face, your hair always coming loose no matter how tight Ingrid braided it. 

At the kind gesture, you relaxed a bit. Maybe she wasn’t as mad anymore. Cautiously, you allowed yourself to step in closer to her. “Hurts, Mamma.” 

Some emotion, of what you weren’t sure, flashed across the older woman’s face and she sighed. “You’ll be fine. It is just a little cut. It is just a little blood, kjære. You are 8 years old. And 8 years old is too big to be getting this worked up over a small cut.” 

“Sorry, Mamma.” You mumbled, scrubbing at your eyes with your good hand. You took a few deep breaths, trying to stop crying even as pain burned through your finger, and all you wanted was a hug. 

“Alright, no more blood, see? Now go get a bandaid while I clean up your mess.” 

“Okay, Mamma.” 

She sent you off with a kiss on the top of your head, but as you climbed the stairs, you heard the garage door open. That meant Ingrid was home. You knew she’d had a long day, but you couldn’t help the way your body sagged in relief now that she was home. Now that you’d get a hug. 

That was, until you heard Mamma’s voice addressing your sister downstairs, as you rifled through the bandaid box, looking for a yellow one. 

“Look what your sister did.” Mamma sighed. She sounded so disappointed, and you promised yourself to do better. Next time, you wouldn’t throw up. And you would clean up the mess all by yourself. Then, Mamma would be proud of you. Then, maybe she’d give you a hug.

When you came to, Mapi’s face was hovering ridiculously close to yours, and you jolted away from her. 

“Sol! You’re awake!” 

You tried to sit up, just as Ingrid’s voice rang from across the room. “Do not let her sit up yet, she’ll only make herself more dizzy.” 

Mapi’s hands pushed your shoulders back to the ground and you frowned, seeing Ingrid appear above you holding the broom. 

“No, Ingrid, I’ll clean it up,” you said weakly, even as your stomach turned at the sight of a bloody rag in your sister’s hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ingrid dismissed. “You stay right there until you feel better.” 

Ingrid cleaned up the ceramic shards, and you wondered just how upset she’d be that you’d broken the mug. It was her and Mapi’s favorite. They had made it together in some pottery class, and they often fought over who got to use it in the morning for coffee. And you’d gone and broken it. Ingrid didn’t seem mad yet, but she would be… right?

 After a few minutes of Mapi gently combing through your hair, she finally helped you sit up. Your sister appeared in front of you once again, first aid kit in hand, and sat down on the ground.  She moved slowly as she reached for your hand, trying not to startle you. You held it out to her, leaning against Mapi and inhaling shakily. 

“I looked when you were out, I don’t think you need stitches.” Your sister assured you, pausing when you only gave a short nod. “You okay? Do you feel sick?” 

You shook your head firmly, clenching your jaw shut tight. Ingrid still didn’t unwrap the towel from your palm, still focused on the uneven way you were breathing, and the slightly green tint to your face.  

Mapi rubbed her hand up and down your back comfortingly, exchanging a look with your sister. “It’s okay if you feel sick, Sol. Just tell me and we can get you a bag or something.”

“No. I’m fine. I don’t get sick when I see blood anymore.” You said, sounding almost angry. 

Since when? Ingrid thought. Still, she got to work disinfecting your hand and cleaning it up. Once she’d wrapped a large bandage around it, having tried her best to ignore the way your good hand was clenched into a fist so tight it looked painful. 

Once your sister was done, she helped you to your feet, holding her arms open for a hug. You looked between her and Mapi suspiciously, a frown set on your face. “You’re… not mad?” 

“Why would we be mad?” Ingrid wondered, leading you into the living room, having decided to make you rest on the sofa for a while until you looked less ill. 

You followed her lead, albeit still sounding very confused. “Because… I made a mess. And I didn’t clean it up. And I broke your favorite mug.” 

Ingrid couldn’t figure out what you were so worked up about. “It wasn’t on purpose, Sol. And you were hurt, why would you clean it up?” 

“I should have been more careful. And it was my mess. I should have… I should have cleaned it up.” 

It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of something, a somewhat vacant expression on your face. Ingrid had the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. It was the one that appeared whenever your sister discovered another piece of the puzzle; the puzzle of why you were the way you were, why you’d left Norway. Most of the time, the pieces were intrinsically linked to your mother. And Ingrid really hated that. 

So, she wasn’t quite sure what the specific issue in this situation was. But she knew you well enough to know what would make you feel better. Taking a seat on the couch next to you, your sister brought you into a tight hug, feeling the way you froze at first, before melting into her. 

“I don’t care about the mess.” She promised, before she leaned back, her expression contradicting her words slightly as she took in the blood on your shirt. 

You smiled weakly at her, not quite sure you believed her words. “I’ll go change-”

“No!” Ingrid interrupted. “I’ll go get you a new shirt, yeah? You just stay here.”  

With that, your sister took off up the stairs, and you were left in deep thought on the couch. Mapi took Ingrid’s spot pretty quickly, handing you a glass of water to sip from as she studied your expression. 

Mapi nudged you with her knee. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I broke a picture frame once. It was of Ingrid and Mamma, and the picture was completely fine but the glass broke and I cut my finger on it. But my mom was really mad about the mess. She said she was tired of me and the messes I made. I just… thought you’d be upset. It was your guys’ favorite mug. I thought you’d be mad.” 

Understanding dawned across Mapi’s face and she scooted closer, until her shoulder pressed to yours. “I don’t care about the mug. And neither does your sister. We’re both just glad you’re okay, that’s all we care about.” 

“Really?” You asked in a small voice. 

“Sol, you could break everything in this house, crash my motorbike, and ruin my favorite sweatshirt. And I’d still want you here. I’d still love you, nena.” Mapi assured you, not a single trace of doubt detectable in her voice. 

You looked away from her, the eye contact combined with her words proving to be too much. “I love you too.” You choked out, still looking away from Mapi, but leaning closer into her. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“How could you not? I am the best.” Mapi said seriously. 

And then the tears in your eyes were forgotten as you laughed, always shocked at Mapi’s ability to take your mind off something emotional. Always shocked, but always so grateful. 

When Ingrid reentered the room with one of her shirts in hand, it was to find you and María in absolute hysterics on the couch, your hand and whatever had upset you so greatly before completely forgotten. 

She’d thought she loved Mapi as much as a person could love another person, before you’d arrived in Spain. And then she’d picked you up from the airport, a shell of yourself, angry and hostile. And she’d watched Mapi chip away at all the anger and all the sadness. She’d watched as you became you again, with Mapi’s help.

Ingrid wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d helped you, too. But you were her sister. Mapi had no obligation to you, yet… here she was. 

And Ingrid realized that her love for María Pilar León Cebrián had grown exponentially in the past few months. Because she’d gotten to see Mapi grow to love you. Her favorite person in the world. It was so much love, she thought some days that her heart might burst.  

Ingrid hated the process of getting you here, and of everything that had happened for you that had been so incredibly difficult. But she couldn’t pretend she didn’t love the family she got as a result. 

------

hahahaHAHAHA IM FINE im FINE

i love sol.

ps. please tell me if you see any typos okay goodnight

[gamerbearmira]

(SA)

The town was respectfully quiet as Isabela let out a scream and jumped the leader responsible. Camilo was right behind her with tears in his eyes and a snarl on his lips.

No one could blame the two. Not when energetic sweet little Mirabel was lying there. Lying there looking almost dead and pretty crispy.

"It wasn't...it was supposed to be a joke...it wasn't..." One of the boys, and God he was Isabelas age. He was Isabelas age and had picked on a girl six years younger than him and done...done this!

Alma and Delores came running over, the listener having ran to get her grandmother and was pale in the face.

Alma looked shocked at the sight of the fight and how no one was stopping it.

"That's not a joke! Jokes are supposed to be funny!" Camilo snarled and his fist broke a few teeth in the boys skull.

"Camilo! Isabela! What are you two-" Alma began to demand they stop this madness, unable to believe her eyes at how Isabela was acting...

"You nearly killed her! You could have killed my baby sister!" Isabela was looking feral as she bit, scratched, punched and kicked. All sorts of plants springing up, certainly more than mere roses or vines. But no one was paying attention to that right now.

Almas voice caught in her throat and the air left her lungs all at once as those words registered in her mind. Could have...

"Where's Mirabel?" Alma demanded glancing at Delores who lead her over to where Julieta and Pepa and Luisa were gathered under a large tarp that someone was holding over them as the cold rain fell in waves and thunder crashed over head.

Alma collapsed to her knees, her face falling in horror at the sight and her skin going as pale as her second daughters.

The two continued to go nuts on the boys until there was a raspy choked cough. It immediately distracted them as they turned towards the sound and almost seemed to teleport over.

"Wh...what?" Mirabel cracked her eyes open slightly, and Luisa sobbed at how bad the left one was, completely white and the scar over it was horrible, and used her white eye to look up at everyone. She was squinting at them.

"Mira! Mirabel can you hear me?? Julieta asked and Mirabel gave a choked raspy laugh.

"I'm burnt not deaf..." Mirabel muttered and Pepa felt an almost hysterical laugh well up at that.

"We need you to hang on Mira. Just hang on okay?" Luisa was almost frantic as she held the tarp over her sister, mama and aunt.

"Course. Wanna meet my primo...not going anywhere." Mirabel said although the burns on her mouth were popping and bleeding at her talking, and her voice was definitely raspy.

Mirabel blinked slowly and her good eye squinted at everyone again.

"Wanna meet me? Why?" Camilo asked popping up beside his mother who immediately wrapped him in her arms.

"Not you...Abuelo says there's a new one...I wanna meet the baby..." Mirabel blinked slowly and she was feeling weak but was holding on. Everyone felt their breaths get knocked out of their lungs. Did...did she just say...

"Buelo says hi...an he loves us..." Mirabel said and she was being fed little bits of her mamas food to not irritate her burnt mouth and throat too bad but it worked slower like that.

Alma felt like she was in a horrible dream as a golden butterfly landed on Mirabels nose and she gave a small half smile.

"Not goin yet Buelo. Wanna meet baby."

BEAT EM UP⁉️

I’m putting the fight on WorldStar <333 Nah but jokes aside. Camilo is right. Pranks and jokes are supposed to be funny, and for the most part harmless. The fact that Mirabel ended up in such a horrible state, goes to show that this was not funny at all. AND THE FACT THAT THEY TRIED TO DEFEND THEMSELVES…UM…WHAT 🤨 You are 15-16, take responsibility for your actions. Face the consequences.

Poor Mirabel, I know they was telling her not to go towards the light 😭😭 And Pedro just pulling up like

“Hey I love you but it’s too early and like. You got a primo on the way, so like…don’t die please.”

And Mirabel was like oh ok. Regardless she would’ve pushed through anyway so. She do be surviving ‼️‼️‼️

Mirabel:

Ok I’ll stop 💀💀

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Best Executed Deaths

A few weeks ago, I did a list talking about the Top 5 Character Deaths That Made Me Side-Eye the Writers and I thought it was only fair that I talk about some of the character deaths that I thought were actually done well. So consider this like a companion to that list. 

Like I said in that T5F, this is TWDG, a game series all about people surviving in a world overrun by zombies. Naturally, characters are going to die. Some of these characters get pretty shitty deaths that only happened to fill a quota, some had effort and thought put into them and how they were going to effect the story and remaining characters. These are deaths that served their purpose, progressed the story, or are an understandable conclusion to a character’s arc. 

Do keep in mind that when I say that I enjoy the way these were done/handled/portrayed/whatever, this isn’t me taking joy outta watching these deaths play out. Hell, I kinda hate most of the deaths on this list, but just because I don’t want this character to die or I wish they stuck around longer doesn’t mean I can’t recognize when it’s executed well, y’know? 

5. Larry and the meat locker incident

So.... Larry’s an asshole, y’know? He made it on another T5F because he sucks. No one likes Larry. 

He treats Lee like garbage, treats his own daughter terribly, and is overall just a piece of shit. That being said, he played his role well. He did what he needed to do which was be a antagonistic character within the group who posed a threat to Lee by threatening to expose his past. He creates a lot of tension within the group, he puts all this pressure on Lilly, you can’t even attempt to show any kindness to him because he doesn’t care about anyone but himself and Lilly. 

That being said.... his death scene is pretty good. Y’know, you play through ep2 for the first time and you’ve just discovered that these people are cannibals and they have you locked in a fucking meat locker so they can butcher you later, and Larry is freakin’ the fuck out because he’s pissed. Lilly is sick in the corner, Kenny is desperately trying to find a way out because they have his family, and Clementine is terrified, and Lee is just waking up. 

You go over and try to calm Larry down because he’s pounding at the door and this dude.... this bastard has the gall to be like “Fuck you, you must really hate me! I’m plannin’ on bein’ around waaaaaay after you’re dead! I’ll be the one to put you down!”

Then he has a heart attack. 

And you’re stuck in this meat locker with him. You don’t know if he’s alive or not-- Kenny immediately deems him dead, Lilly is desperately trying to resuscitate him, and they’re both yelling at you. You gotta decide if you’re gonna help Lilly try to bring him back, or if you’re gonna help Kenny make sure he doesn’t turn. 

Not matter what you do, Kenny smashes Larry’s head in with a damn saltlick because I guess he missed the opening of the episode where they remind you that your actions have consequences. 

Larry’s death has lasting effects on your relationships with both Lilly and Kenny, though more so Kenny since no matter what, Lilly loses it a little and ends up murdering Carley/Doug and leaving the group. But boy, Kenny will never forget the time you didn’t wanna play hero with him and smash a guys head in right in front of his daughter. 

It’s a damn good scene, I gotta hand it to ‘em. I hate Larry and I can’t say I miss him, but I can definitely see both sides of the argument on what to do there. Plus it’s... I dunno, a creative death? and I kinda like that? No one else is out here getting their heads done in with a saltlick, y’know? 

Anyway, Larry sucks but his death? Well done. 

4.  Minerva and the tragic showdown on the bridge

Oh man, I really am digging my own grave with the Minnie crowd lately, huh? Ah well, I’m sure it’s fine. 

Listen...okay, look. I have a lot of feelings about the bridge scene. On one hand, I hate it. On the other hand, I kind of love it? 

Like, does it piss me off that Tenn dies here because I trust AJ? Yep. Do I still wish they had maybe put Lilly here so that she could actually do her job as a villain? Sure. Does it upset me that AJ ends up shooting his best friend in order to save Louis? Totally. Does it annoy me that Minerva just won’t fucking die even though I shot her and the walkers keep nom noming her? Absolutely. 

That being said, I can’t pretend that Minerva’s death isn’t pretty great.... which I know will upset the Minnie crowd who always talk about how it’s bullshit she died here and she deserved a redemption arc... but lemme explain. 

Looking at the game itself, the text and story progression, Minerva was never going to get that. She was never set up as someone we were gonna “fix” or as someone who would have a change of heart and switch to our side. From the moment we meet her, she’s too far gone. The delta have their claws sunk deep within her, they brainwashed her, forced her to murder her own sister, and she has completely given up. She never expresses any desire to go back to the school. Nope, the delta is her home now. Her family. And it’s tragic. She and Sophie proof of what would happen to the Ericson crew if the delta go ahold of them-- “which twin will you be?” y’know? 

She fucks us over instead of actually helping us, we escape, the boat explodes, but Minerva doesn’t go down with the boat. Nope, she makes it to land and well... she fucking loses it. She sees her delta family get taken out by walkers and she goes nuts with her gun and gets half of her face chewed off by a walker.

So yeah..... she’s dead. Almost. They try to act like we’re supposed to believe that she’s really dead after she gets surrounded by walkers and throws the grenade at Clementine and all that but c’mon.... unless I see a body or a walker version, I don’t believe shit. 

Which brings me to the bridge.... there’s a lot of dread building up to Minerva’s final appearance, and you just hear her singing the damn song and bringing a bunch of walkers with her. Not to mention that she already looks dead. She looks like a walker who can talk, and not gonna lie, I like it. It’s freaky and sad and fucked up and adds so much to her character at this point. I mean, she’s here to kill Tenn so that they can all be a family again. She’s smiling and relieved that she’s dying and boy she just can’t wait to take Tenn with her and it’s not great.

She’s here to die and to take someone down with her, and she’s not leaving until she does. Hell, if she can take Clementine out, that’s just a bonus at this point. 

ALSO can’t forget that if AJ does shoot and kill Tenn, Minerva is still alive as she’s being eaten by walkers and she looks so damn happy as she reaches out and says, “Yes, come with me...” 

Like..... it’s so fucked, and I hate that I love it. From a storytelling standpoint, it’s a fitting death to conclude Minerva’s character and it impacts everyone there in more ways than one. 

3. Duck and incredible emotional impact

Oh, Duck... poor, poor Duck. 

This one has stuck with me and I hate it. I was never one of those players who hated Duck from the beginning. It’s interesting to go back and see how people reacted to him in the first couple episodes because a lot of them didn’t like him. They found Duck to be annoying, loud, stupid, and would even wonder “yeesh, when can I kill this kid?” 

Which is yikes but not gonna get into that right now. 

But from my understanding, Telltale got wind of this and knowing they were gonna kill him off, were like “Okay, y’all dumb, so here--” and they added in that little segment with Detective Duck where he helps Lee figure out what’s been going on with the stole meds. It’s a cute scene where we get to hang out with Duck and he proves that he’s not stupid, he’s just... y’know, a child. 

Then the motor inn gets attacked, shit goes down after they escape, and it’s revealed that Duck was bitten. 

Oh man, let me tell you about emotional impact both on the characters and the player because wow. 

Duck’s death is slow, drawn out...and since it’s early in the series, there’s a lot of denial, mostly from Kenny. They find the train and Kenny fixates on it because to him, if he gets it working and they can just get away, Duck can recover. Duck isn’t like the others, he’s just a little sick and everyone is making a big fuss about it. 

Then you have Katjaa, who starts out in that denial stage but she moves into acceptance a lot quicker than Kenny does and well.... that might be because she made up her mind about what she was going to do, which that is a whole other layer of fucking despair to this situation. 

They also do something that I like with Kenny by adding that depth of him believing he had something like this coming after what happened at Hershel’s farm. Y’know, when he grabbed Duck and took off, leaving Shawn to die? Yeah that. 

He’s been so adamant about protecting his family to the point where he doesn’t have anything for the rest of the group, aside from Lee if he helps kill Larry. He did what he could to keep his wife and child safe and in the end, it didn’t matter. Duck still got bit, and now everything is shit. 

Then when you thought it couldn’t hurt even more, you find Katjaa dead in the woods and you still have to take care of Duck, whether you have Lee shoot him or have Kenny do it, or even just leave him to turn. Either way.... Duck’s death is just one big ol’ despairing oof.

It’s really good, guys. The music, dialogue, scenery, the pain....They really nailed Duck’s death in such an emotional way and it doesn’t just end there. This sticks with Kenny all the way through S2 and changes him as a character. It impacted Clementine and Lee greatly because this kickstarted Chuck telling them that Clem would end up just like Duck if things didn’t change. 

S1 just... knew how to kill off its characters... well, for the most part. 

2. Marlon and the death that had to happen whether we like it or not

Sigh.... okay. 

So... Marlon. Lemme tell you some things about Marlon’s death. 

First, I hate it. Nothing new there. If you know anything about me, you know that I am vocal in my desire for the Marlon redemption arc, for the “Marlon lives” AU’s and the “Marlon lives longer but dies differently” AU’s. I like Marlon as a character, I find him to be a fascinating character study. Ray Chase’s performance as Marlon brings so much personality and I love it.  So naturally, I wanted more of him in TFS. 

Here’s the thing. I may want all of those things, I may take a lot of joy from discussing these ideas with you guys and coming up with different scenarios,  theories, AU’s about him, and I’ll always be the first one to be like “I hate that Marlon dies in ep1, I wish AJ hadn’t shot him! Woulda liked for him to stick around longer!” 

But with the story TFS is trying to tell, Marlon has to die. AJ has to shoot him. I don’t like it, you don’t like it, no one likes it.... but that’s just how it is. 

Marlon is presented to us as this chill and genuine guy trying to keep his group safe and together. He feels the pressure of being responsible for all the lives in this school and that’s a lot to put on a teen growing up in the apocalypse. 

Then we learn that hey, the twins didn’t die. No, last year they ran into Abel and Marlon made a deal with him where he traded the twins in order to save himself, Brody, and the rest of the school. He wanted to plan a rescue mission, but he was too scared, so he and Brody kept it to themselves. They made up a story about the twins dying and moved on, but that continued to weigh down on them. 

Then Abel comes back, Brody freaks out, tells Clementine the truth, and Marlon hits her so hard that it kills her. 

And it gets worse. 

You go through the whole confrontation with Marlon trying to cover his ass and blame Clementine for Brody’s murder, he’s waving AJ’s gun around and threatening to shoot Clem while everyone is gathered around watching. It’s raining, it’s super dramatic and tense and I love it. 

In the end, Marlon gives up and he just wants to leave. Let him become a bad memory, he’ll never come back, just let him go. 

Then AJ shoots him in the head unprompted. He just.... he just does it and then wonders why everyone is looking at him like he’s a murder baby. 

Marlon’s death is crucial, not just to kickstart the plot but also for AJ’s character arc. His death affects everyone in that school. It makes Clementine question herself and if she’s raising AJ right, it breaks Louis’ heart, it pisses off Mitch, it sets Violet off on her bullshit. Everyone is hurting and confused because they don’t know what to do. Marlon is dead and AJ, this tiny toddler, was the one who pulled the trigger. 

From the beginning, we’re told that AJ is always listening, watching, and what we do will affect him for better or worse.... and maybe you don’t think much when you tell him to always aim for them head, but when he says exactly what you taught him after murdering Marlon...? Yeah, you’re sitting there like “Well, fuck.” 

But if this didn’t happen, if AJ didn’t kill Marlon, then.... there’s not a lot left. Sure the raiders are still coming, but AJ no longer has to go through what he has to or realize how much he hurt everyone. He’s no longer on that path that made him such an interesting and layered character. 

Sure, you coulda made him shoot someone else, but the fact that it was Marlon is what made it impactful.

Ugh, it’s good and I hate it. I hate it so much. 

1. Lee and the death that broke all our hearts

.......Just-

-y’know?

What else is there to say?

Well, alright, I’ll explain. 

We play as Lee in S1, we go on this whole journey with him and develop him as a character, establish relationships, and care for Clementine. He’s a great character. I did a list on why he’s great, too, if you wanna check that out but all you really need to know is that we all loved Lee.

Lee’s got a lot of baggage, given that he was on his way to prison for murdering the dude who was sleeping with his wife. But then the apocalypse happened and he got a second chance to do some good... or I guess bad? if you do a scumbag Lee run? 

Anyway-- no matter what, he cares for Clementine and it’s nice to see them bond over the course of the season... so when shit hits the fan and Clementine gets kidnapped by the Stranger, we’re just as upset as Lee is.

Then Lee gets bit.... and we realize that even though he’s our playable protagonist, he was never safe either. He gets bit and I can still remember the feeling of like... a bowling ball dropping in my stomach and my heart hurting because no... no, no, not Lee. I basically became Kenny like “No, he’s different! Lee isn’t gonna die! Being bit doesn’t mean death!” and while that is technically true.... had to face it: Lee’s going to die by the end of the season. 

Ep5 of S1 is a whole journey... We’re dealing with trying to save Clementine while seeing Lee get worse and worse-- he’s passing out, he’s growing paler and slower and it’s hard to watch. You maybe get a little bit of hope if you decide to cut his arm off, but that’s just... it’s too late for that. 

Not only is he fighting this, but then you got Ben who gets impaled and Kenny “dies” putting him outta his misery and Lee’s powerless to do anything. So great, that sucks. 

But at least he’s got Christa and Omid.... until they get separated at the Marsh House and Lee’s gotta get through a herd of them by himself. 

This slow burn is so good. His condition gets progressively worse but he’s so determined to get to Clem that it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have time to think about what is inevitably going to happen to him, even if the player does. 

And just.... the final scene... y’know, the actual death scene? 

It’s so good. It’s a beautiful, emotional punch in the face. Like, way to end your game like this... Lee is trapped her with Clementine and he can’t walk, he can’t get up no matter how much Clementine begs him to try, he just- he can’t. He knows it’s all over for him and so he has her handcuff him to this heater so that no matter what, he can’t hurt her and just.... their final moments together where Lee is minutes away from death but is struggling to tell her as much as he can and I’m crying.

Then of course, the final choice-- Do you shoot Lee, or do you leave him to turn?

Both ending hurt my soul, but they’re both great in different ways. Shooting him is so heartbreaking... seeing little Clem sobbing as she points the gun at him and closes her eyes, then it cuts to black as the shot rings out and you hear Lee’s final breath....

BUT THEN YOU HAVE THE LEAVE HIM ENDING WHICH-

Lee manages to tell her more when you choose not to shoot him, but just watching Clementine get to the door and her little “don’t go” before Lee closes his eyes and falls over limp... falls over dead, I just--

Ouch... I am applauding this through my ugly sobs. 

It’s the best death in the series. It has everything and then some- emotional impact, works to progress the story and characters, amazing dialogue and performances.... It still gets me to this day. 

---

Honorable Mentions

-Mark’s death technically happens off screen, but I mean, c’mon... Mark wasn’t the most compelling character, but everyone remembers what happened to him. Everyone remembers walker Mark. What happened to him showed us just how fucked the St Johns were and it’s excellent.  -Brody’s death is pretty good, too.  -Abel’s death is an interesting one. He’s a garbage can, but they managed to humanize him just a bit by the way he hands his soon-to-be demise.  -Badger when Conrad kills him. It’s super good.  -I’m looking over this list now and it’s kinda funny that not a single S2 death made it here... it’s almost like all the character death that happened there was because a quota needed to be filled and who cares about complex character development when you got Kenny and nothing really matters I guess... ugh. The best deaths would probably be Carver, and Kenny when you shoot him but they’re not good enough to be in a top 5 so.... good job.

---

So... that was fun. What do you guys think? Do you agree with my choices or nah? Do you have a favorite death I didn’t list that you thought was well executed? Let me know, I’m curious. 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 7 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: dealing with the aftermath of our runaway reader. They say you don’t kiss and tell, but some people just can’t help it. Special s/o to my babe @ohfreyfrey for her help with the end 😇 I heard yall like cliffhangers…

series masterlist

The next day, the potential consequences of your actions set in even further. This isn’t some Romeo and Juliet fairytale, you’re y/n y/l/n, your life was never going to be a fairytale. Plus, that play ended with them dying and you weren’t really into that. Taking a page out of Sarah’s playbook, you start ignoring the larger group, only speaking to Sarah and occasionally Kie. You know you’re avoiding your problems and your feelings for the blond pogue, but the alternative is terrifying.

You’re imagining allowing yourself to completely fall for him and the thought is paralyzing. It’s like handing JJ a loaded gun, showing him exactly where to shoot to kill, and then trusting him not to. You haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. Not since your parents first put their hands on you in anger, not since Jacob Kane touched you inappropriately at a party without your consent, not since Sarah Cameron dropped you without warning. It really scares you, the thought that you were willing to risk that again.

Your parents also scared you. Even if you could get the courage to fall into the unknown without JJ, you couldn’t be open with your relationship. It could never get back to either of your parents, or  there would be hell to pay. You were expected to marry rich and marry well. But the thought of spending the rest of your life with a Rafe Cameron or Topper Thornton or Kelce Smith or Jacob Kane made you physically ill. Your parents tolerated your behaviour thus far (if you could consider daily screaming matches and bruises and marks tolerating), but you knew lowering yourself to date a pogue would be the last straw. You didn’t know what they would do, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

It’s two days before the texts start rolling in.

maybank: hey

maybank: just wanted to see if you were ok

maybank: did i do something wrong?

maybank: please talk to me

maybank: i can’t stop thinking about that kiss

maybank: y/n

You don’t know who gave JJ your number but you’re sure it was probably Sarah, who didn’t know when to let things be. You know the smartest thing to do would be to block him, but every time you go to click the button, you hesitate with your thumb poised over your phone and you can never do it. A part of you, one that’s honestly pretty big likes that he’s thinking of you too. It wonders if he feels the same way you do. You’re not stupid, you can acknowledge that he at least likes you a little, if that kiss was any indication. You had felt alive under his touch, with your lips pressed together. That night you had gotten drunk and stoned in your locked bedroom, trying to chase that high but you were right. Nothing would ever come close.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the text messages that you have memorized from the number of times you’ve read them when your door is thrown open. You look up in shock, you had definitely locked that to avoid your parents. Chick is grinning at you brightly, holding up a bobby pin to show she had picked the lock. You don’t really acknowledge her presence, only scooting over on your bed to give her room to sit with you. “Sarah’s really worried about you, you know,” she states, and you just shrug. The two of you sit in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two, before she snatches your phone out of your grasp. You gasp and attempt to pull it from her hands, but she’s a lot smaller and a lot quicker, jumping off your bed and running towards your en suite, ready to jump in and lock the door if necessary. Understanding your odds, you resign yourself to the fate of your little sister reading your text messages and finally figuring out what’s wrong with you.

She looks up at you and gasps your full name, middle name and all, “JJ Maybank??” she screeches. You shush her quickly, not wanting to open that can of worms with your parents just yet. It’s probably a waste of time, if they’re even home they’re likely nowhere near the bedrooms, but still you want to be cautious. “JJ Maybank is the reason you’ve holed yourself up in your room and avoided everyone for four days?”

“Chick,” is your only response, tilting your head as you look at her, eyes silently begging her to stop.

“What’s the big deal, y/n? So what, you kissed a pogue, haven’t you kissed like a hundred boys?” she asks.

“Don’t slut shame me,” you tell her grumpily, “and I haven’t kissed like a hundred people. It’s just…” you trail off, unable to find the words. Or maybe you can find them, you just don’t feel like sharing with your baby sister that you’ve fallen ass over feet over JJ Maybank.

“Oh my god,” Chick says, as something like realization sparks in her eyes, and she stands up even straighter than before and exclaims, “you’re in love with him!”

“What?!” You look at her in disbelief, that was quite a jump from a kiss to love. Your tongue trips over itself as you quickly protest, “Absolutely not Chicklet, that’s actually insane!”

“Is it?” She asks, hands on her hips looking much older than her thirteen years.

“You can’t be in love with someone you’ve only known a few weeks,” you tell her drily, unimpressed with the conversation. Sure, you’ll admit that you’ve got feelings for the pogue, but love? Chick is crazy, love is crazy. That’s not what’s going on here.

“I mean, technically you’ve known him for years.” She rebuts your point.

You sigh deeply, “Okay fine, then you can’t fall in love with someone you’ve only been interested in for a few weeks.”

“So you admit you’ve been interested in him for a few weeks!” She shouts triumphantly, “Wait until I tell Sarah.”

“Chick,” you warn her, “don’t you dare.”

“Your friends are worried about you y/n! I’m not going to lie to them!” She tells you.

“Sarah and Kie will be fine, if you tell them they’ll just go even crazier than they are,” you tell her.

“They’re not the only ones worried, Sarah said they’re all worried. Especially JJ.” She explains, causing your heart to constrict at the mention of JJ worrying over you.

Brushing over the feeling in your chest, you can’t help but ask, “Even John B?” Chicks face falls a little at that, confirming your suspicion that John B still doesn’t think very highly of you. “Right, well tell Sarah and whoever else cares that I’m fine alright.”

“y/n” she says slowly, and the pity in her tone causes your heart to ache. Huffing dramatically, you slide down and under the covers, throwing your comforter over your head.

“I’m fine Chick,” you tell her, voice muffled. You regulate your breathing as you hear her steps near your bed, before she drops what you assume is your phone on your nightstand and then leaves the room, door clicking softly shut behind her.

While you’re talking with your sister, JJ is on the other side of the island in a house that is a lot smaller and less taken care of but has experienced a lot more love, having a similar conversation with the best friend he considers more of a brother.

“What is your problem? You’ve been moping around for two days like someone ran over your dog or something,” John B confronts JJ who hasn’t moved from his spot in the spare bedroom except to eat and use the washroom. JJ can’t really explain, doesn’t want to really explain. He doesn’t need to hear it from John B again about how you are the worst of the worst kook princesses and just messing with him. JJ knows it isn’t true, not that the two of you have ever spoken about it, but from that moment at Midsummers to now, he’s felt something starting between the two of you. Despite initial misgivings, he was wrong about you. Like, really wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ grumbles. Truthfully, he can’t get you out of his head. He had asked Sarah for your number and then proceed to not only text you, but text you five times while being left on read each time. JJ didn’t text girls, he hit it and quit it and dodged texts like it was his third day job. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was worried about you. Having been on the receiving end of a parent’s fist on more than one occasion, he wasn’t sure if you were even okay.

He thinks of how you pressed against him, the way your chapped lips felt against his, the soft feel of your hands on his jaw. He thinks of the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms, the slight lilt of hope in his chest that maybe he wasn’t alone in how he felt about you. But then he thinks of the way you froze, saw the panic in your eyes, and felt the ache in his chest as you ran from him.

“Something obviously happened between you and the princess.” John B astutely observes.

“Don’t call her that,” JJ snaps, frustrated. It’s not really John B’s fault, but the mention of the word ‘princess’ just reminds him of when you told him to call you by your name. Reminds him of that afternoon together, when you had firmly cemented your place at the forefront of his mind. When his initial attraction (and yes he was very attracted to you) had blossomed into admiration of your confidence on the waves and your kindness when dealing with Chick. When he had poked at you and entered your personal space and flustered you to the point you threatened to send him through the windshield.

John B throws his hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with Rafe’s property,” John B tries again. JJ glares at him, body tensing up with unbridled rage thinking of the possessive way Rafe looks at you.

“She’s not-“ He has to pause to unclench his jaw and his fists, swallowing before continuing “she’s not his property John B.”

“She might as well be, the way she hangs off of him. Or are you blind?” His best friend replies.

JJ shakes his head in frustration, pulls his snapback off his head and wrings it in his grasp, “You don’t know what you’re talking about John B.”

John B gives his best friend his best incredulous look, eyes widening comically and head tilting as his hands move away from his brain to mime an explosion, complete with side effects. “Have you actually gone insane? Like, are you feeling okay dude?” John B reaches for his best friends forehead, to pretend to take his temperature, but JJ slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off,” JJ mutters when he tries to do it again, and that’s when John B realizes things are serious.

“C’mon man, what’s going on?”

“I really like her man,” JJ sighs heavily, “like really like her. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t like girls. I mean, I do, but not like this man. I can’t stop thinking about her. I worry about her and I wonder if she’s okay. She drives me crazy, but like, in a good way. And then I kissed her, and I think I fucked it up.”

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea and I reserve the right to tell you I told you so when shit blows up,” John B warns, JJ rolls his eyes but nods, indicating for him to continue. “But, I have to ask. Did you tell her any of this or did you just mack on her and hope her wealthy parents bought her the ability to read minds.”

JJ’s silence is telling. He pulls out his phone, unable to stop the small pang of disappointment that you haven’t yet responded to any of his text messages. He can’t help but send another text, texting etiquette or whatever be damned, he’ll text you as many times as it takes for you to reply.

maybank: i just want to make sure you’re okay

seen 2:34 pm

JJ tries to not let the disappointment take root in his chest, recognizing that you need time to deal with what happened, acknowledging the many times he has gone ghost on his own friends, but the insidious feeling takes hold of him anyway. Walking away from John B, he reflects on his best friend’s advice and realizes there’s a lot he needs to tell you.

“C’mon y/n/n, you have to get out of this room,” Sarah tells you. You’ve let her into your house, realizing that you can’t just shut her out completely without her resorting to desperate measures (like enlisting your little sister in her quest for knowledge). It may have been a mistake because she’s spent the last few minutes trying to convince you to go out to a kegger.

“I don’t want to go,” you tell her, despite the fact that your base state of being has been stuck on ‘I could really use a drink’ since that kiss.

“Because you don’t want to see JJ? Because you kissed him?” She asks, sympathetically. You gasp, Sarah has been over for twenty five minutes, and you had assumed her silence on the matter meant Chick hadn’t snitched.

“I can’t believe Chick told you, you can’t trust anyone, not even your own blood,” you said dramatically.

“Chick didn’t tell me, John B did.” Sarah replies, and you’re confused at first, and then you groan.

“Oh my god, I bet he had a lot to say,” you tell her, and she winces a little. You nod to yourself, “Great, that’s great. Is JJ just telling everyone now? Does everyone know?” You can’t help the annoyed look that crosses your face, despite knowing the annoyance is just a deflection.

“Well, I’m sure JJ told Pope, and I may have let it slip to Kie.” You groan audibly, burying your head in your hands. “Listen, y/n, I was sworn to secrecy,” you roll your eyes, knowing Sarah can’t keep a secret to save her life, evidenced by the first half of her statement, “but, JJ told John B that he really likes you.”

You groan louder, “that’s worse!” but your words are muffled by your arms.

“You wanna repeat that in English that the rest of us can understand?” Sarah responds sassily, and you just groan again. She gives you a minute to mull it over before she’s grabbing you by your upper arms and shaking you.

“Hey, get off of me you psycho,” you twist in her grasp, swatting at her hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking!” she exclaims, still wrestling with you

“I really like him!” You admit. She pauses, grip slackening long enough for you to slide out from underneath her.

“Okay, I’m failing to see the problem here,” she replies sassily, hand moving to her hip.

“Sarah, my parents! Their expectations, The Lecture, it can never happen.”

She nods in understanding, considerably more somber than before, before replying, “fuck them.”

“Sarah, come on you know it’s not that easy,” you protest, but she shakes her head and repeats herself.

“Fuck. Them.”

“Yeah, and then what? I don’t get my trust fund until I turn eighteen next year, and you can bet they’ll take it away from me if I stray away from the perfect daughter before then. And what about Chick? You don’t think that they’ll take it out on Chick if I just up and leave?” It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it, throwing it all away and starting fresh somewhere new. But you didn’t think they would let you go that easily, and you could never leave Chick behind.

“Then we’ll get my dad and Rose to do something,” Sarah continues to protest, but you shake your head.

“Sarah, stop. It’s never going to work, your dad and Rose aren’t going to go against my father.” She sighed in defeat, realizing that you weren’t going to budge. At least not yet.

“Will you please just come to the kegger? Me and Kie can run interference for you.” She pleads, Cameron pout on full display and you roll your eyes before muttering fine. Her excitement makes you smile a little, for the first time in a few days.

You don’t know why you agreed to come. There’s an anxious feeling in your chest as you take in all the moving bodies with red solo cups in their hands. You’re not sure if you’re looking to spot JJ or hoping you don’t spot him at all. Maybe it’s both, you think as you take a small sip of whatever swill is in your own red cup. You don’t know whether you would kiss him again, run away, or maybe both like the last time.

Lost in your thoughts of the blond, Rafe’s hand is on your waist before you even comprehend that he’s appeared at the party. “Heard you’re officially with Maybank now,” his grip is tight, but you’re able to peel his hand from your body.

“I’m not officially with anyone!” You let your many frustrations out on Rafe, without even a hint of guilt. “God Rafe, when are you going to leave me alone? I don’t owe you shit.” You see hurt flash in his eyes, but you frankly don’t care anymore. He is persistent to a fault, and you want to get it through his thick skull for once.

There’s a small crowd around you, mouths gaping, more than one person is on their phone, likely frantically texting everyone your business. You roll your eyes and push past them, dropping your cup on the first surface you find on your way back to your car. You don’t stop to tell Sarah you’re leaving, but you figure she’ll get the memo when she hears about your run in with Rafe, if she hasn’t heard about it already. You’re upset and frustrated, and so supremely grateful that neither your parents nor Chick are home as you stomp up the stairs and throw yourself on your bed. You didn’t need to add Rafe’s gross possessiveness to the inner turmoil running through your head.

It’s a solid twenty minutes of you just staring up at the ceiling before your phone buzzes with a text message. Figuring it’s probably Sarah and you owe her at least a brief explanation, you unlock the phone. But it’s not a message from Sarah. At the bottom of a string of unreplied to messages is a new text:

maybank: i’m outside, we need to talk

Feel something tag list (ily guys sm): @thoughtsofthestars @dreamsndior @duskangxl @agirlwholovescoffee @previouslyforgotten @http-cherries @softtfordrew @gigi-june @httpstarkey @meaganjm @oopsiedoopsie23 @margaritatimebaybee @iamaunicorn4704 @5am-cigarette @kahnacademyforfun @rudths  @llvinlavidaloca @arianabrashierstuff @realistic-breadstick @tattered-masterpiece

Everything tag list (yall are rockstars!!): @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @ohfreyfrey @downbytheouterbanks / @gforgenevieve​ @ilovejjmaybank

if you want to be added to either tag list, just shoot me an ask/message/comment love you guys!! shoot me an ask if u wanna talk about this part or literally anything i love you guys thank u for the support

[beevean]

"he plays just how Mari always wanted him too" is not as heartwarming as OOP wants to convey.

Mari wanted Sunny to play in a certain way. He killed her for it. Now he doesn't get to think "oh, I'm sure Mari would be proud of me for imagining myself playing the violin :')" because he has grown or some shit. It just feels like a slap in the face to poor Mari.

How does imagining himself playing the Duet supposed to represent strength against Omori's very harsh truth that he killed Mari and lied about it to everyone? That is not a rebuttal. That's him going "nice argument, but whatever, my friends love me <3". Great if your depression is irrational! Not so much when you have a very good reason to feel guilty. This is my whole issue! The "truth" of his trauma is always conveniently ignored! Sunny is not just depressed: he has blood on his hands, and he keeps running away from the consequences!

(and it's not even the real violin. He's not physically touching the very reason he snapped and killed his sister, which would have been a much more powerful moment of him finally seeing reality for what it is. He's always dreaming of doing nice stuff, almost never committing.)

Anyway did I mention that I love Bojack Horseman?

Bojack looked at his abusive mother, the woman who made clear every step of the way that she regretted that he was ever born, and had the strength to give her comfort when he could have punished her for her horrible actions.

He did not imagine himself treating Beatrice nicely in a fantasy. He did not do this to get a pat on the back. He doesn't even know what we audience have just witnessed, how hard and traumatizing Beatrice's own life has been, so it's not even out of pity or an apology. He could have told her to fuck herself, that he hated her for everything she has done, to him and now to Hollyhock, and it would have been justified and cathartic - Bojack did a lot of horrible things, but he was genuinely blameless when it came to his mother.

He didn't. He gave her one last nice memory. Without looking for anything in return, not even for the purposes of making amends, since Beatrice has dementia and she has likely forgotten this encounter has happened by the time she died. It probably didn't even make him feel good, at least not as good as telling her off would have. But it was the right thing; and this time, he rose above his own trauma and did one good thing for the sake of someone's else.

I love Bojack, a real, visceral portrayal of trauma and mental illness that doesn't shy away from the consequences of the protagonist's actions, but still shows that, as long as you put in the effort, you too can become a better version of yourself :)

"the entire game is him running away from the truth" and what is that truth, huh? what is it he's running away from? spell it out, won't you?

See, this is the kind of stuff I'm talking about when I say the fans keep tiptoeing around the twist's exact details. Saying that Sunny's trauma largely stems from the fact he killed a person wouldn't make him look as #relatable and thus appealing, so it's conveniently omitted :)

"he plays the real duet" no, that cutscene is entirely in his head. same fandom that calls everyone they don't agree with media illiterate, btw lmao

"he's one of the most mentally strongwilled characters in realistic fiction" is particularly funny, though. just thinking about helping other people and fantasizing about a recital that'll never be doesn't require much strength of will.

Sunny didn't even have the mental fortitude to try and comfort Basil or Hero when he saw them at their most vulnerable. What is it that merits such praise, then? The fact he could play a violin in his head? Give me a break.

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Nineteen

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, and smut

Words: 11.5K

a/n: I can’t believe this is the second to last part! 

Masterpost

You always really liked the beginning of November. The leaves had changed, and it was the middle of the semester. You also, finally, looked and felt your best for the first time in a while. Since Jessica was over six months, she was able to go to day care at the college with Jack. Harry really missed bringing her with him to work, but at least he still had Buster. You couldn’t believe that next fall Jack would be going to preschool. There was a nice place in Milton you and Harry found that you’d enroll him in once spring rolls around.

At the end of your work day, you go to pick the kids up from daycare. Jack was coloring with Ryan, like always. You were happy to see they had stayed such good friends. You told yourself you’d do your best to keep them in contact next year since they’d be going to different preschools.

“Mumma!” Jack exclaims.

“Get your backpack, sweetie, we gotta grab your sister from the other room.” You bend down and kiss his forehead. He holds your hand as you walk over to the next room where the kept the babies. “Ah, there’s my sweet girl. How was she Anthony?”

“A doll, as usual. She giggled a bunch, and took a great nap.”

“That’s what I love to hear. Hi, angel.” You cuddle her to your chest. She was very excited to see you. “Let’s get you both in the car, come on.”

Jack is patient as usual while he waits for you to get Jessica situated in her car seat. You pick him up to put him in his. You furrow your brows at your backseat.

“How the hell am I supposed to do this with three?” You ask yourself. “I’d need to get a car with another row of seats.” You sigh and get into the front seat.

“Three what, Mumma?”

“Oh, nothing, baby doll. Mummy’s just talking to herself.” You laugh.

You and Harry hadn’t really talked about another kid in a while. Things in the house had finally gotten into a decent routine. You were almost scared to bring it up.

“Jack?”

“Yes, Mumma?”

“Do you like having a little sister so far?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I just don’t like when she gets loud.”

“Like when she cries for a long time?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t like it either.” You chuckle. “Her bottom teeth are coming in, that’s why she’s been crying a little more than usual. It can be a little uncomfortable on her gums.”

“Did I do that when I was baby?”

“Mhm, we used to freeze carrots for you to gnaw on.” You shake your head at yourself. “Sometimes we’d throw a wet rag in the freezer too, anything to soothe you, honey. You used to bite on Daddy’s fingers too.”

“I did?!”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “It was cute. Jessica hasn’t seemed to want to do that. The teething rings work just fine.”

“I like her.” He looks at his sister and smiles.

“Me too…would you ever want another?”

“Sister?”

“Or a brother…I don’t really get to decide…”

“I want her to get big so we can play.”

“I want the complete opposite. I want you small forever.”

“But I’m a big boy, Mumma.”

“Yes.” You sigh. “A very big boy. Dr. Philips thinks you’re going to be very tall, and your sister may end up a shrimp like me.”

“Daddy’s tall.”

“Daddy’s very tall.” You smile.

You liked your chats with Jack on the way home from work. You’ll miss them a lot once he’s in preschool, but you didn’t need to think about that just yet. You hit a little bit of traffic on the way home. You’re grateful when you pull into the garage. You get Jessica into your arms and Jack out of his car seat.

“Hang your backpack up please when you get up into the kitchen, and then wash up for snacky.” You tell him. “I gotta feed this one too. Are you hungry, darling?” Jessica makes a noise and you nod.

You get jack some cut up grapes and then get Jessica a bubby. Once she’s burped you set her down in her bouncy so you can go use the bathroom.

“Wanna see what I colored today, Mumma?”

“Of course I do!” You plop on the floor with him in the living room so he can show you his many drawings. “Is this our family, honey?”

“Mhm.” He beams. “There’s Daddy, you, me, Jessica, and Buster.”

“Are you riding Buster?”

“Yeah.” He giggles.

“We have to put this on the fridge for Daddy to see. He’s going to love it.” You get up and find a magnet and some space to put the picture up.

A little while later just as you’re preparing dinner while also going over ABC’s with Jack, you hear the door slam downstairs. You sigh heavily, especially when you hear Harry stomping up the stairs.

“Daddy!” Jack exclaims. You also hear Jessica getting excited from her high-chair.

Harry doesn’t even come into the kitchen. He just grumbles and goes right into the bathroom to wash up. He comes into the kitchen when he’s done, and looks at you.

“Hi.” He grunts and opens the fridge to grab a beer.

“Our son is waiting.” You nod over to Jack.

“Hey, buddy.” Harry goes over and kisses the top of Jack’s head. He looks over at Jessica and can’t help but smile when he sees her smile. He gives her a kiss as well. “What’s for dinner?”

“Roasted veggies and rice. Should be done any minute. Are you alright?”

“M’fine.” You roll your eyes at him and turn around to look at the veggies through the glass in the oven. “Shouldn’t do that in front of him, not a great habit to pick up.”

“Neither is coming home angry, and immediately grabbing a beer out of the fridge.” You cross your arms and look at him.

“Touché.” He smirks. “I had a long day. Not something I can really discuss in front of little ears.”

“Later then?”

“Yes.”

You nod and get dinner plated up. Harry helps feed Jessica while you make sure Jack’s veggies aren’t too hot. He really liked when you roasted veggies, and you were thankful he didn’t just want hotdogs all the time.

“Mm, delicious, babe.” Harry says.

“Thank you.” You whistle for Buster. “Come eat, baby.” He barks and eats the food you put out for him.

After dinner you and Harry give Jack and Jessica a bath. You lull Jessica to sleep, but Jack is allowed to stay up in bed a little longer. You come into his room and see Harry reading with him.

“Time for bed.” You say. You kiss Jack on the forehead and so does Harry. “Night, angel.”

You both creep out of his room and go downstairs. You both sit on the couch.

“Alright, tell me what happened.”

“I have two interns this semester, remember?” You hum your response. “Well, I couldn’t find either of them for a hot second, so I go to the back to see if maybe one of them was in the bathroom and maybe the other was in the storage closet. No one was in the bathroom, so I go to check the storage closet, and I see it’s locked. I grab Mariah and ask her why it would be locked during the day, and she had no idea, so I grab my keys and I open the door to find the two of them pulling their clothes back on.”

“Stop!” You gasp. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Full on fuck fest in my storage closet. Even we haven’t fucked in there.” He scoffs. “So, I obviously had to let them both go, but that means they may not get college credit, which I sort of feel bad about…they might be able to get one or two credits since they completed half the semester. I have to come to your campus tomorrow to speak with a dean or something. And now I’m down two people right before the holidays. I’m gonna get super busy.” He sighs.

“What about a paid thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could hire a couple of other college students and pay them hourly or something. It could just be a seasonal thing for the holidays. You’re getting new interns for the spring anyways, right?”

“True…it would only be for a couple of months I’d need to pay them. Do you know any responsible students looking for work?”

“Oh, sure, tons. I can send an email to the film club and see if any of those guys wanna make a quick buck.”

“I can’t believe I have to deal with this.” He groans.

“It’s kinda funny when you think about it.” You chuckle and he glares at you. “Oh, come on!”

“Little rabbits couldn’t keep it in their pants.”

“You remember being that age, Harry. Even in your twenties, you were like that.” You laugh.

“I wouldn’t have risked college credit like that.” He shakes his head. “Morons.”

“Did they at least feel bad?”

“They did, and they were really embarrassed. Isaac spoke to them mostly, I was too aggravated and Mariah had a client coming in.” He sighs. “I just can’t keep them on after something like that, you know?”

“No, it makes perfect sense to let them go. They need to know there are consequences to their actions. You’re doing the right thing, babe.”

“Thanks. Sorry I came home grumpy. Usually I can cool down on the train home, but everything was pissing me off, and then there was traffic from the train station back here.”

“I hit traffic on the way home too. I wonder if there was an accident or something.”

“Who the fuck knows, it’s Boston, there’s always traffic.”

“Poor thing.” You pout at him. “Come here, come lay with me.”

You lean back and rest your head on the arm of the couch, and Harry rests his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around him and rub his head and back.

“How was your day?” He mumbles.

“Good, my students are starting in on their projects. Some of them, uh, are taking bets on if or when I’ll get pregnant again.” You laugh nervously.

“Seems like an incentive thing to make bets about.” He looks up at you. “What if you weren’t able to have more?”

“I’m very honest with them, especially the students that have had me for years. They’re fine. I thought it was sweet. They like seeing pictures of our family and stuff.”

“They just like when you go on your little tangents.” He chuckles.

“What students wouldn’t?” You kiss his forehead. He props himself up to look at you. “What?”

“Your heart is, like, racing.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Even after all this time you still make my heart flutter.”

“Y/N.” He sighs with a smile. “Are you trying to tell me something?” He thinks for a moment and then gasps. “Are you pregnant?”

“No! God, no…but…I’ve been thinking about maybe…what if it was time to try again?”

“I feel like we just got a routine together. Everything’s gonna change next year with Jack going to preschool. Our schedules are going to need to adjust a lot, and you wanna add a baby to the mix of that? You were pregnant during our five year anniversary so we couldn’t go anywhere. This April is gonna be our five year wedding anniversary, I was sorta hoping to take a vacation.”

“While I’m teaching? We’d have to go in March when I’m on spring break.”

“Plus, Jessica’s first birthday will be in April. We’re gonna be really busy. Jack’s still too little to help out.” He sighs. “I don’t know, the idea of it just really stresses me out.” He gets off you to sit up, and you sit up as well. “And you’ve been talking about how much you’ve loved the way you look lately, you wanna start changing all of that?”

“I told you before, I’d do it over and over.” You look down at your lap and twiddle your thumbs. “You…really don’t want another?”

“It’s not that I don’t, I just don’t think right now is a good time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be right now.”

“Y/N.” He puts his hand over yours and you look up at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Even if I was pregnant during our anniversary, we could still go somewhere. We could go away for a weekend or something. I’d still have fun.”

“Not if you were nauseous and sweaty. Been through it twice with you now, I know how you are.”

“I just feel like I’m playing beat the clock or something. Like, I’m thirty-two, so if we got pregnant soon, then I’d be thirty-three probably when the baby’s born, and then I think that would be enough. I feel like three is the magic number. How nice for Jessica to be so close in age with a sibling, and Jack could find little ways to help if he wanted.”

“We’d be giving up our guest room.”

“We do have my office down here that could be converted if we put a small pull out in there.”

“You want my mother to sleep on a pull out?!”

“No, she could have our bed. Plus, those bedrooms are large upstairs, Jessica could share with the baby. We have one of each, so either way two could share as they got older. I’m…a little shocked you’re not jumping at the chance.”

“I just think we need to be realistic. That’s a third college fund we’d need to invest in.”

“The timing’s never going to be good, Harry.” You cross your arms. “And so what if it’s a third college fund? Do you know how much money I’ll be making by the time the kids would even be old enough to go to college? I’m set to teach two courses online this January, you know that money goes right towards those accounts.”

“I just don’t understand why you want to throw off the balance we have right now. There’s four of us, we have one of each…why do we need another?”

“Harry.” Your bottom lip starts to quiver. “I just have so much love to give, and I wanna give it to another baby.”

“You’re already spread so thin! Jack still fights for your attention anytime you hold Jessica for longer than five minutes. Now you want him to compete with two?”

“Are you sure it’s not you who wants to compete for my attention?”

“Oh, please.” He scoffs.

“Besides, I thought you liked me when I’m pregnant.” You pout.

“I like you all the time, that’s not fair.” He cups your cheek. “As much as I love the idea of having a ton of sex to get you pregnant, I just…can I have some time to think about?”

“Okay.” You lean into his touch.

“I know that’s not the answer you wanted.”

“You’re not saying no, so I’ll take it for now.” You kiss his palm and stand up. You stretch a little, really putting yourself on display for him. “Think I’m gonna turn in.”

“Me too.” He yawns. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

You both do your nightly routines and get into bed. You roll over and Harry wraps himself around you. You wanted to have sex right now, but you didn’t want him to think it was just because you wanted to make a baby. You didn’t want him thinking that was the only reason you wanted him. Maybe once he falls asleep you could go take care of yourself in the bathroom or something. No, you didn’t want some piece of plastic to get you off, you wanted him. You roll over to face him and see he’s already asleep. Of course, just like a man to fall asleep so easily. He pulls you in closer to him, but you pry away, flipping onto your back.

“You’re restless.” He mumbles with his eyes closed.

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you mad at me?” He opens an eye to look at you.

“Of course not.” You look at him. “I’m just…in the mood.”

“Because of the baby talk?” He smirks.

“No…just…in general.” You roll back on your side to face him. You grab one of his hands and place it between your legs. He grunts when he feels how wet you are. “Just want you, babe.” You whimper as he presses his palm against you.

“I can see that.”

He slips two fingers inside you, and you grind against him. He keeps a slow pace, just enjoying the way you feel around him. His thumb presses circles into your clit. You press your forehead to his chest to try to muffle your moans. Your nails scratch at his shoulders, causing him to groan.

“Fuck it.” He retracts his fingers from you and pushes you to lay on your back. He drags his boxers off and throws them to the floor. He practically rips the t-shirt you were wearing off.

“What do you mean fuck it?” You giggle.

“I’m gonna pump you silly and get you pregnant. I’m fuckin’ done using condoms.”

“Harry…” You cup his cheeks. “An hour ago it didn’t really seem like you wanted-“

He crashes his mouth over yours, and practically rams his tongue in your mouth to shut you up. He had his reservations, but he had such a tough time telling you no or even denying you of something you really wanted. The thought of you being so willing to put your body through this again because you wanted to carry another one of his children drove him absolutely wild. You said you had all this love to give, and so did he. He wanted to turn into another little bundle with you.

He bites your bottom lip before sitting up to give you some air. You look up at him stunned. He had a dark, lustful look in his eyes. One of his hands travels up to grip your throat.

“Got me all riled up now, gonna let me take care of it?” He asks.

“Yes.”

He grins at you and loosens his grip on your neck.

“Will you go down on me?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“Do you wanna know why we had so much trouble with the first two? I kept eating you out like every time we tried, and apparently saliva can, like, kill sperm. So, unfortunately, I can’t put my tongue on you.” He starts kissing on your neck and down your chest. “Well, can’t put my tongue on your there, at least.” He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples.

“Harry don’t suck or bite, I’m still making milk…”

He rolls his eyes as he kisses between the valley of your breasts. He kisses on the area just above your nipple and bites down hard, causing you to gasp. His hand goes back between your legs to spread you apart. He lines himself up and rubs his tip around your folds and throbbing clit before pushing inside. You let out a relieved sigh. He grabs both of your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your calves as he starts thrusting in and out of you. Your head rolls back into the pillows as one of your hands travels down to lightly rub your clit.

“Christ.” He grunts. “How are you still so beautiful?” Your eyes meet his and all you do is smile at him. “I mean really, it’s just not fair.”

He drops your legs and comes to you so you’re chest to chest. His mouth is on yours again and you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands travel to his hair as he takes over rubbing your clit.

“Can’t wait to feel your come, Harry.” You groan.

He drops his head to the crook of your neck. He nearly lost it at your words, but he needed to make sure you got yours first, not that it was a race or anything. He wanted you to feel good all over, and for a little while longer. He rocks into you in a way that hits your g-spot, making you arch up into him.

“Like that, baby girl?”

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop.”

He feels you tighten around him and he knows you’re close. He rubs your clit faster, and that’s when you lose it. A cracked gasp leaves your lips. You twitch and writhe under him as he tries to hold you down. You kiss him as his pace picks back up. You can’t remember the last time you two weren’t interrupted or had to be quick, this was amazing.

“Harry.” You whimper. You weren’t making this easy for him at all. He couldn’t hang on much longer. You were too much when you were so needy like this. “Want you to come.”

“Want me to come, angel?” He whispers in your ear and it sends a shiver up your spine.

You smirk to yourself and grab his face so he’ll look at you.

“Come on, Daddy, put another baby in me.”

“Jesus, fucckkk.”

His come shoots inside you and paints all your walls. You moan out from being able to feel it after so long. He nearly collapses on top of you. He was exhausted. He slowly slips out of you and you clamp your legs together. He rolls onto his back and he looks at you.

“That was evil.” He breathes. You look at him and chuckle. “S’not funny.”

“Yes it is. I call you Daddy all the time.”

“Yeah, in front of the kids. Little bit different in the bedroom.”

“Got you to come didn’t it?” You boop his nose.

“Didn’t need that much help, love, I was about ready to explode either way.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek. “So beautiful.” He gets up from the bed to go clean himself up, and after waiting a few minutes you do the same.

“So…you’re really into having another baby? It’s not just me wanting one?” You ask as you both face each other and cuddle up to one another.

“I want it. I was just being silly earlier.”

“No, your feelings were completely valid, honey. Sometimes I need a reality check.”

“I think…three will be enough though. I think anything more would be a lot for us, but a family of five sounds nice.”

“Technically six, can’t forget about Buster.” You chuckle.

“Right, can’t forget about our oldest.” He smiles. “Do you agree though? Three’s enough?”

“Yeah, three’s plenty.”

“As long as we’re on the same page about that, I’m good with doing it all over again.” He kisses your forehead.

“And then you can get a vasectomy.”

“Y/N.” He groans. “I don’t wanna shoot blanks.”

“But then we’d literally never have to worry.”

“Sometimes they don’t take.”

“So you’d rather me go through some kind of invasive procedure when you could just easily get a little snip?”

“Why are we talking about this now?”

“Because it’s something we’ll need to be on the same page about, Harry. I don’t wanna get an IUD or get my tubes tied. I shouldn’t have to when there’s an even easier, low risk procedure out there.” You rub your thumb over his cheek. “Just think it over, okay?”

“Okay.” He kisses your nose. “Let’s get you pregnant first, though.”

“Agreed.” You yawn and wrap yourself tighter around him. He pulls you in nice and close. Times like this it felt like before you were even ever married with kids when you’d just hold each other like this. “I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.” He whispers back.

//

Saturdays were for raking leaves. Jack loved being able to help Harry outside a little more now that he was a tad older. You were inside with Jessica making grilled cheese and tomato soup for everyone. She enjoyed watching you cook. Once in a while she’d whine because of her teeth.

“Need a new ring, darling girl?”

You go into the freezer for a teething ring and hand it to her. She happily puts it into her mouth to suck on. You smile at her and kiss the top of her head. You were happy she didn’t fuss when she was in her highchair. You go over to the sliding door and you love what you see. Harry tackling Jack down into one of the larger pile of leaves and them both hysterically laughing. If your ovaries weren’t ready to explode already, there sure as hell would be now. You slide the door open and step out.

“I hate to ruin the fun boys, but lunch is ready!”

“Grilled cheese!” Jack shoots up and runs towards you.

“Wash your hands please.”

He groans, but does as you say. Harry comes strolling up to you.

“You as well, Daddy.” You grin.

“Sure thing, Mummy.” He pinches your bottom and goes down the hall to wash his hands with Jack.

You cut up Jack’s sandwich for him in to long quarters. He looks at it funny.

“Why’s it like this, Mumma?”

“So you can dunk it into the soup if you want.” You blow on his cup of soup for him. “Should be cool enough.”

“Hey, do that to mine.” Harry smirks.

“Blow it yourself.” You shake your head at him. “It tastes good, Jack, see?” You dunk your own piece of sandwich into the soup. “Mm, so yummy.”

Jack watches Harry do the same, and that was enough for him. He dunks his sandwich into the soup and takes a chomp out of it. His eyes grow wide and he smiles which makes you and Harry laugh.

“Mm, that’s good, Mumma.”

“Knew you’d like it.” You smile and look at Harry. “Got much left to do out there?”

“Just need to bag it all up and drag the bags out front.”

“Do you need my help for that?”

“Nah, I should be able to manage.” He shrugs. “But thanks.”

“Mumma, Daddy said we have enough twigs for a fire later.”

“Oh, did he?” You tap your chin. “Hmm, I guess that means I’ll have to go to the store and get some marshmallows.”

“Yes!”

“You can take him while I finish the yard if you want.”

“Sure, that’ll work out well. Jessica can nap while I drive around.”

“They both can.”

“No naps.” Jack pouts.

“If you don’t nap then we can’t have a fire.” Harry says firmly. Usually you didn’t like when he would get so stern with Jack, but right now it was working for you.

“Daddy’s right, Jack. We can’t have a fire if you don’t nap.”

“Fine.” He huffs and finishes up his lunch.

Harry helps you get the two of them in the car and kisses you goodbye before getting back to work in the yard. You had Jessica strapped to your chest and Jack in the little seat in the shopping cart. You kept wondering how you might do this with three kids, but by the time a third would be born, Jack and Jessica could both sit in the shopping cart.

“Can we have s’mores, Mumma?”

“Sure, we could do that, honey.” You smile.

You walk around the store and grab all the items. Jessica was absolutely passed out, and Jack’s eyes were getting droopy. You needed to get them both back in the car stat. You just needed to grab the graham crackers.

“Shit.” You say to yourself. You couldn’t really reach the brand that Harry liked. You probably could’ve just lifted Jack up to grab them, but a man standing near you saw your dilemma.

“Need some help?”

“That would be great, thanks.” You smile as he grabs the box and hands it to you.

“Cute kids.” He smiles.

“Oh, thanks. They’re fading fast.”

“I didn’t even know they made gluten free graham crackers.”

“Yeah, my husband prefers them. They actually taste pretty good.”

The man nods as you start to walk away. You get in line and notice that he gets in line behind you. You smile at him again and he returns it. You feel his eyes burn into you as you put everything up on the belt. You were starting to feel uneasy, but you weren’t sure why. You pay for your things, and hang back a moment. You pretend to check the receipt as the man walks by you and out of the store. You notice that he doesn’t walk out to a car. He was just standing near the door. You take a deep breath. It could easily be nothing, maybe he was waiting for a ride, but you were starting to freak yourself out.

“Mumma?” Jack says sleepily.

“I just need to…” You look around. “I need to call Daddy.” You take your phone out and call Harry.

“Love? Everything alright?”

“No…this guy at the store is giving me the creeps, and I’m afraid to walk out to the car.”

“Gimme ten minutes, I’ll take an uber so I can just drive you home.”

“I’m sorry, I just-“

“It’s okay. Ten minutes, honey.”

You couldn’t believe that the man was still there, standing outside. He was definitely waiting for you. You see Harry’s uber pull up and you feel a wave of relief. Harry looked very rugged today. His scruff was due for a shave, he had his bandanna on to keep his hair back, his work boots, loose jeans, and a sweater.

“Hey.” He smiles when he comes in. “Is it the guy that’s right out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, gimme the keys.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Jack yawns.

“Hi, buddy.”

Harry takes your keys and grabs the couple of bags out of the cart, and also lifts Jacks out. He keeps him on his hip while he walks out with you. You don’t look at the man as you walk by, and out to the car. You get the kids in their car seats, and Harry drives you home. You were shaking slightly.

“He had to have been waiting for me.” You whisper. “I can’t even go to the grocery store now?”

“You have your pepper spray in your bag, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I showed you how to stab someone with the keys if need be.”

“It’s different when the kids are with me. If I was alone…I don’t know I probably would’ve been fine, but if something happened to me…”

“Don’t think like that.” He puts his hand on your thigh and gives it a squeeze. “What happened, did he interact with you?”

“He helped me grab the graham crackers off that top shelf. You know I can never reach those. I even mentioned I had a husband. Then he ended up in line behind me. I stayed back to see if he was planning to follow me, and he just stood there.” You shake your head and put your hand over his. “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

//

You and Harry got Jack and Jessica inside for a proper afternoon nap, and the two of you cuddled on the couch for a bit yourselves. You had calmed down from the little scare. You thought to maybe call the store tomorrow to have them check their tapes to see if that man had come in and done anything weird like that before.

“Should we invite Sarah and Niall for the fire tonight?” Harry asks, stretching out to sit up.

“Sure! I’ll text them now.” You take your phone out and text in the group chat you have to let them know they’re welcome to come by. “Probably gonna be one of the last ones. It’s starting to get too cold at night.”

“Can’t wait for Thanksgiving break. Love when we get to be home together for a few days.”

“I know, only a few weeks away now.”

“I’ve lined up a couple of interviews with those students you sent my way. I’m gonna see ‘em Monday. Hopefully they’ll refrain from fucking in the storage closet.” He rolls his eyes.

“How was your chat with the dean?”

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I tried to come see you, but I think you were teaching, and I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“Since when do you not wanna disturb one of my lectures?” You laugh.

“Well, it’s one thing if it’s at the end of class. Those kids are paying for a proper education, you know?” He smirks.

“How considerate of you.” You crawl into his lap and straddle him. “You know…those two should be asleep for a little while longer.” You lean down to his ear as he wraps his arms around you. “When was the last time we fucked on this couch?” Your words send a shiver up his spine.

“What if he comes trotting down the stairs?”

“Buster will distract him. You know how he loves to pet and play with Buster when he first wakes up.”

“True.” His hand slide into the back of your jeans so he can grip your ass. You roll your hips down on his. “Just gotta be quiet though.”

You nod your head in understanding. You stand up briefly to take your pants and underwear off. Harry undoes his belt and zipper to take his dick out. You grab the blanket and wrap it around your back so you weren’t totally exposed, just in case. You get back on his lap. He rubs your slit to make sure you’re wet as you pump his dick.  

Once you’re both ready you slide down on him. You both grunt and moan. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. He moves you up and down on him and you whimper into him. You bite down on his soft skin and it makes him thrust up into you harder. You grip at his shoulders and make fists with the material of his sweater.

“Oh, god.” You moan and move your face too look at him. You slot your mouth over his as he continues with his movements. You rock against him to give your clit some much needed friction. “Harry.” You gasp. “Shit, oh my god.” He had you panting already, and with another sharp thrust up he had you coming around him. Your lips find his again to help capture the noises you were making.

It didn’t take him long to come after that. He lays you down puts a pillow under your knees to prop your legs up a bit. He covers your lower half with the blanket.

“Gonna have to wash that.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead. He sees your phone light up and looks at it. “Sarah and Niall are in for the fire.”

“Oh, great! This’ll be fun.”

“Daddy!” You both hear Jack call from his room.

“He must need to shit.” Harry chuckles and you swat at him. “What? You don’t think it’s funny that he only wants my help with that?”

“He gets embarrassed when I help him, and I feel terrible about it.”

“He’s just too polite to shit in front of his mum, it’s cute.”

Harry goes up the stairs to Jack’s room. He was doing a dance like he really need to use the bathroom. He had been using the actual toilet more and more, but he had a tough time going number two alone. You eventually get up and get yourself situated. You go up to check on Jessica who was making babbling noises in her crib.

“Oh, someone’s awake.” You coo. She smiles up at you. “Hi, angel. Mummy change you now.”

You lift her out of the crib and set her on the changing table. You get her all fresh and cozy in a change of clothes and carry her out of the room. You take her to the living room and sit on the floor with her. You watch as she slowly gets herself to her feet.

“Good job, Jessica! Now, walk to Mumma.” You hold your arms out for her to balance on. Harry comes down with Jack and Buster. “Come on, you can do it.” She takes little steps. She wobbles a bit, but she makes it and you scoop her up in a hug and tons of kisses.

“Hey.” Jack pouts and runs over to you.

“Oof!” He nearly knocks you down.

“Jack, that’s too rough.” Harry says and gets on the floor with everyone. He takes Jessica from you and snuggles her close. “Hi, darling girl, did you have a nice nappy?” He boops her nose and she giggles.

“Jack, why do you get so jealous?” You laugh.

“I walk all the time, and you don’t give me kisses.” He pouts.

“Oh…well, I did when you were her age. I’m sorry.” You hold him close to you and give him tons of kisses. “All better?”

“Much.” He smiles.

//

“Everyone have enough blankets?” You ask the group as everyone’s sat around the fire.

“Think we’re good, Y/N.” Niall says and pulls Jack into his lap. “Now, let’s get this marshmallow roasted.”

You had the baby monitor on your hip so you’d be able to hear if Jessica needed anything while you were all outside. You snuggle up with Harry and he hands you a s’more.

“Thank you.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“Uncle Niall?” Jack asks.

“Yes?”

“How come you and Auntie Sarah don’t have a baby?”

“Jack.” You say. “Not an okay question to ask.”

“Why?”

“It’s personal.” Harry says. “Not all adults have babies.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah says and takes Jack into her lap. “Jack, I work with lots of little kids all day long. I have so many kids that I love and that I care about. So, Uncle Niall and I didn’t really feel the need to have one of our own. Besides, we like just being an Auntie and an Uncle. We get to give all our love to you and Jessica.”

“I thought all married people had babies.”

“Not the case, bud.” Niall says.

“How come Mumma and Daddy had us, then?”

“Because your Daddy likes getting your mum pr-“

“Niall!” Sarah swats an arm at him and he starts laughing.

“Jack, come here.” You chuckle and he walks around over to you with a gooey marshmallow in his mouth. “What’s with all the questions, hm? People like to express their love for each other in different ways. Daddy and I wanted to turn our love into babies, and Sarah and Niall wanted to turn their love into, uh…” You look at them for help.

“Vacations.” Niall says. “We get to travel and see the world, and show everyone around us how much we love each other.” He grabs her hand and kisses it.

“And, we give back to others in need, Jack. Niall and I use the money that we’d spend on babies to donate to different causes. That’s another way we show our love.”

“See, honey, there’s lots of different ways to show love out there.” Harry says. “But I do like getting your mum pregnant.” He grins.

“Okay!” You stand up with Jack. “I’m taking him to bed because you two are idiots.” You shake your head and carry him inside. The three of them laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that, hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s sorta rude to ask someone why they don’t have kids.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah shrugs. “Unfortunately we’re used to it. I can’t tell you how many of the parents, even some of the other teachers at school have told me that I’d change my mind.” She scoffs. “I don’t have those motherly instincts. I can babysit no problem, but doing it 24/7? No thanks. I’ll leave it to you guys.”

“I truthfully don’t mind just being an uncle either. I like that we can pick and go as we please, and just do things spontaneously without having to worry. I feel completely fulfilled.” Niall says.

“Me too.” She kisses his hand. You come back out shortly and pinch Harry’s arm as you sit down.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He rubs his arm before throwing it around you.

“He kept asking me why Daddy likes getting me pregnant, you fucking moron.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’m lucky he was tired. Thank god Buster likes cuddling with him or he’d never sleep.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Guess I shouldn’t have been goofing like that.”

“Y/N, has Harry told you about our little plan for spring?” Niall says.

“No, what’s that?”

“We were thinking of becoming soccer coaches, getting Jack started on a team and all that.” Harry explains. “Lots of kids in this neighborhood, could be fun to start a league for the really little kids.”

“Yeah, get some skills early on.”

“But Harry…you’re not very good at soccer.”

“True, but Niall is. Gotta have a kid on the team to be a coach, so he could be my assistant coach, but do all of the actual coaching, while I would bring the snacks and make up the rosters.”

“Does Jack want to play soccer?” Sarah asks. “He really likes to draw.”

“Yeah, he’s told me a couple times, especially when we play in the backyard. He likes kicking the ball around.”

“Then I think it’s a great idea. You could pick him up from daycare and take him to whatever field the practices would be at. It would be fun to see him play on the weekends too. He’d look so cute in his little uniform.” You pout.

“It’s settled then, we’re puttin’ a soccer team together.” Niall smiles and looks at Sarah. “And you can be the cheerleader.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffs. “Y/N and I will be off to the side sipping wine in inconspicuous bottles.”

“I like the sound of that.” You giggle.

//

You were in the middle of one of your lectures when there was a knock on the door. You go to open and it see it’s one of the workers from the daycare.

“Hi, Dr. Y/L/N, sorry to disrupt your class, but you may want to come get Jack. He’s not feeling well.”

“Oh no! Has he thrown?”

“No, but he says his stomach definitely hurts, and we took his temp. He has a little fever.”

“Alright, um…shit, I have two more classes today. Let me call my husband and see if he can grab him quick.”

“We’ll need him to take Jessica too, she could also easily be sick.”

“Okay.” You go back into the classroom and grab your phone. “Kids are sick, talk amongst yourselves for a moment.” You tell them and step back out to call Harry. “Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Jack’s not feeling well, can you pick them up from daycare? I’d just take them home, but I have two more classes today.”

“Uhh…oi! Isaac!” You take the phone from your ear at how loud he yelled. “Yeah, I can step out for a bit to get them.”

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” You hang up. “Harry will be there soon to grab them.”

“Awesome, thanks! Sorry again for disrupting.”

“No, I’m glad you came to tell me. Thank you.”

You go back into class and get on with your lecture.

Harry gets to the daycare. He frowns when he sees how pale Jack is. He scoops up Jessica and gets them both into his car.

“Don’t feel good, Daddy.”

“I know, buddy. We’re almost home.”

Luckily Jack didn’t puke in the car, but Harry was nervous he might so he sets him up on the couch with him so he could properly watch him. He puts Jessica in her bouncy. She didn’t have a fever, but he knew that could easily change. Harry gets his laptop once Jack is settled and comfortable, and answers some emails. He felt terrible for leaving, but it was nearly the end of the day anyways.

You get home around four, a little later than usual, but you had a ton of students come during your office hours. You run right upstairs to the living room. Harry was stretched out on the couch. Jack and Jessica both laying on his chest. Both curled up and comfortable on their Daddy.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” He smiles. “He puked a couple of times. Think he has a little bug.”

“Oh no.” You frown and sit on the edge of the couch to stroke Jack’s back.

“Gave him some children’s Tylenol. She’s been fine, but she could easily get sick too.”

“I’m gonna go change his sheets. How’s Buster?”

“Been an angel f’me all afternoon. Love being able to just let him outside when I can’t really walk him.”

“Okay, let me take care of his bed and then I’ll get us all fed.” You kiss Harry’s forehead. You start to walk towards the stairs, and then you turn around and look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You smile.

“I know that look, and you’re nuts if you think there’s gonna be any baby making tonight.”

“The thought never occurred to me.” You scoff. “You just look so cute with them.” You pout. “It’s hard not to want a dozen little babies.”

“Go change his fuckin’ sheets, will you?” He chuckles.

You get Jack’s bed settled, and come back down to feed Buster. You decide that vegetable soup would be a good idea, so you get to chopping and throw everything into a pot with some broth and let it cook. You come back over to Harry and smell Jessica’s bum.

“Oof, she stinks.” You laugh and take her from him.

“I was afraid of waking him up.” Harry sits up slightly and keeps Jack curled up in his arms. “Poor kid. Cried after he puked. I think it made his stomach feel worse.”

You take Jessica upstairs to change her and put her pj’s on, and then bring her back down to get her to walk a little. She balances on your forearms as she takes her little steps.

“She’ll be doing it on her own in no time.” Harry says.

“Eight months, she’s growing so fast.” You sigh. “I love the little curls that are coming in on her head. Gonna have another mop like with him.”

“Must have strong genes.” Harry chuckles. Jack groans, but Harry rubs his back to soothe him.

“I’ll be able to stay home with them tomorrow since I don’t teach. I can just work from home.”

“Are you sure? I could probably stay home.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take care of them.”

“Mumma?” Jack adjusts in Harry’s arms and opens his eyes slowly.

“Hi, honey. Having a nice snuggle with Daddy?”

“Mhm. Don’t feel good.”

“I know.” You pick Jessica up and carry her to the highchair. Harry carries Jack into the kitchen. “Wanna try eating some soup?”

“No.” He pouts.

“How about some toast?”

“No.” Tears nearly form in his eyes.

“I think he’s afraid of spewing again.”

“He needs to eat something. You know what they say, starve a cold, feed a fever.”

“Toast is probably better, but I’ll have soup.” Harry says.

You nod and fill up two bowls. You give Jessica a bubby for dinner while Harry gets Jack to have some toast. After you clean up, you bring them both upstairs for bed. Buster snuggles up with Jack.

“Baby, we’re leaving this bucket here, if you don’t feel good you can just use that, okay?”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He whines.

“Daddy and I aren’t going to sleep yet. I put nice new sheets on your bed a little while ago, isn’t it cozy?”

“Got her down.” Harry says, coming in. “Buster will make you feel better, buddy. You like sleepin’ with him.”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He pouts.

“Jack, just try to sleep in here, and if you really can’t then you can come in with us, okay?” Harry says. You both kiss him goodnight and leave his room.

“I need a shower, gotta make sure we both don’t get sick too.”

“Oh, good idea. I’ll bring the baby monitor into the bathroom.” You say.

“You’re joining?”

“Why would we shower separately?” You scoff and go down the hall to your bedroom.

You hadn’t wanted Harry this much in a long time, or that’s at least how he felt. It sort of annoyed him that you had basically been fucking a lot just because you wanted a baby. He walks into the bedroom and starts taking his clothes off.

“Actually, I’d like to just have time to myself if that’s alright. They were on me all afternoon.”

“Oh…okay.”

He turns to go into the bathroom, only wearing his boxers. He sighs and turns around to look at you.

“Are we only fucking so much because you just want to get pregnant?”

“What?”

“It would just be nice to feel wanted because you want me, and not because you know I can give you another baby.”

“Oh my goodness, Harry.” You stand up and wrap your arms around him. “Have I been making you feel that way?”

“Yes.” He mumbles.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what it’s been lately, I feel like my sex drive has just really come back in full swing. I mean, I want this baby, but I also just…want you. We’ve been getting interrupted less. I feel like we both have been able to figure out the good times of day to be intimate. I do just want you because I want you. I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling…used.”

“So…you really just wanted to take a shower with me?”

“I thought it would be some nice alone time, but if you want some time to yourself, that’s fine too.”

“No, let’s go in together. I want to now.” You smile and kiss each other before going into the bathroom.

You take your clothes off as Harry gets the water going. You both step in and sigh once the warm water hits your skin. You take turns washing each other, and then he pulls you close to him to kiss you. He backs you up to the wall and pushes you against it. His tongue felt so good against yours and you loved the way his hands were gripping your cheeks. He reaches between your legs to finger you.

“Jesus.” He groans. “So fucking we-“ He looks down as he pulls his fingers out. “Um…love?” He holds his fingers up and you frown when you see the all too familiar reddish color.

“Sorry.” You slip away from him to finish rinsing off.

“Babe, we can still…”

You turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He pulls you in close and lets you cry into him. This was always the worst part of trying. He kisses your cheek and you look up at him.

“Sorry, um, I can just suck you off or-“

“If you’re not in the mood now, it’s okay.”

“No, we just talked about this not being about making a baby, so-“

“You’re getting upset. You got period, and that sucks, but maybe next month you won’t. We only just started trying again, Y/N. It’s gonna take some time.”

“Right.” You nod. “We should get out in case Jack needs something.”

Harry nods and turns the water off. You get yourself situated and dressed and crawl into bed with Harry. As if on cue, Jack comes walking in with his thumb in his mouth, and his blanky in his other arm. Buster follows as well and plops on the floor.

“C’mere, darling.” You say to Jack. He crawls up on the bed and gets between you and Harry. You put your arm around him and hold him close to you. “Poor thing, Mumma’s gonna stay home with you tomorrow and we can snuggle all day if you want.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, anything you want.” You kiss the top of his head as he closes his eyes. Harry was on his side looking up at you. “What?”

“I get it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why you always get so…in the mood when you see me with them. You’re such a good mum, makes me wanna make more too.” He smiles.

“And you’re the best dad.” He leans up to kiss you goodnight, and then he turns the light off.

//

It took Jack a few days to feel better, but once he did he was back to his old self. Jessica caught a small fever herself, but she was fine. You were just happy that neither you nor Harry got sick. The second your period ended, it was on.

Jack and Jessica would be having a cousins sleepover at Erica’s after Thanksgiving dinner, and you may or may not have been excited to have the house all to yourselves for the night.

“Do you think Michael will have fun with so many little ones?” Harry asks on the drive home.

“Oh, sure. He likes being the big cousin. I still can’t believe Erica even offered it up.”

“Her and Mike can handle it. I think she was excited to snuggle up with Jessica.”

“I feel terrible she couldn’t have more…she always says I keep having them for her.” You laugh. “My Nannie used to say the same thing to my mom.”

“Speaking of Nannie…I was thinking for your spring break we could take a little family trip and go see her.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah. She’s only seen Jessica once, it would be nice for her to spend some time with them. Plus, she always comes here. Florida’s beautiful in March.”

“You don’t need to convince me. We can start looking at flights soon. The kids are gonna be so well traveled when they get older. Once they get a lot older when we take them to the U.K. we could start taking them to some other countries.”

“That would be fun. It’s so easy to just take day trips and what not. They’ll be nice and well-rounded.”

“But I don’t want them to be spoiled. Gotta keep them humble.”

“Gem’ll keep them knocked down a peg, she’s really good at that.” He chuckles.

You both get into the house and kick your shoes off. Harry scoops you up and carries you up to the bedroom. Once he sets you down, you’re being pressed up against the wall harshly.

“You’re not too full or tired?” You ask between kisses.

“Nope, are you?”

“Nope.” You grin.

His lips find yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. You tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. This was very exciting. You could be as loud as you wanted, hell, you could leave the door open if you really felt like it. His hands were all over you, groping you wherever he felt like it. He fiddles with the zipper on the back of your dress, but finally gets it unzipped.

“Want you.” He mumbles into your neck as he sucks on your skin. You giggle on him.

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Don’t be cute.”

Your dress falls to the floor. You help him get his clothes off too. You’re just in your underwear as he hoists you up, bringing you over to the bed. He didn’t want his lips to leave you at all. He nipped where he felt like it, leaving behind little marks. He gets your bra and underwear off, and soon his fingers are rubbing around your folds.

“You obviously want me too.” He smirks, holding up his now slick and sticky fingers. He sucks them into his mouth before pressing them inside you.

You groan as you feel him curl them up. His thumb rubs circles into your clit as he pumps in and out of you. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth but you tug his head up.

“I’m still making milk!”

“So?! S’not like I’m fucking sucking on it to grab a quick drink. You pumped before we left, you should be good.”

“It’s just weird…some could come out.”

“You really think I of all people give a fuck?” It was true, Harry didn’t care about anything of the things you thought would be gross for a guy, like hair and periods. 

“Fine, but if you taste anything you have to come off.”

“Deal.”

He goes back to sucking on you, more so just swirling his tongue around your pebbled nipple. He kneads the other one with his free hand has he continues to finger you. You tug at the blankets as your body begins to feel hot all over.

“Oh my god.” You moan. “Harry.”

“Gonna come?”

“Yes, fuck, oh shit!”

He works you through it until you can’t take it anymore. It felt so good to just let your little cry out instead of having to bite it back. He retracts his fingers and sucks on them again.

“Look at you.” He strokes your face. “So flushed.” He smiles. “Was that a good one?”

“Very good.” You giggle.

“So beautiful, my sweet angel.” He leans in to kiss you. “My amazing wife.” He kisses you again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He adjusts himself so his tip his playing with your clit. You grit your teeth as he pushes inside you. Your nails scratch down his back, causing goosebumps to raise on his skin. He rocks in and out of you as his tongue finds yours. He just couldn’t get enough of your mouth tonight.

“Have you been, ngh, using a new lip balm or something?” He asks as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “So soft.” He leans in and bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go.

“I exfoliated them with, shit, this, ugh Harry, I’ll tell you later.”

He chuckles as his thrusts quicken. You wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. His hands find yours and he pins them to the sides of your head, fingers intertwined.

“You feel so fucking good, babe.” He grunts.

Your heart’s racing as his tip starts to brush against your g-spot. Your head rolls back into the pillows, and he kisses on the now exposed part of your neck.

“Harry.” You moan.

“Say it louder.” He says into your ear.

“Harry!”

“Again.”

“Harry! Oh fuck!”

You come undone just as he’s coming inside you. You felt like you were swimming. You raise your hips to meet his over and over to really ride it out. He pulls out of you slowly and rests beside you. He pulls you close and kisses your hairline. It was quick, but so good. You imagine it wouldn’t be the only time you’d be making love tonight, and you were right. He was inside you again before you knew it.

//

Jack was finally old enough to understand Hanukkah a little more, and it was the cutest thing in the world. You had a menorah on the kitchen table, and a very small tree in the living room. Your home was decorated with snow men, and other winter scene things.

“Look at this little kippah Nannie sent him. His name is on the inside, so cute.” You show Harry as you get some gifts together.

“He’ll love it.”

“He’ll probably ask why Daddy doesn’t wear one.” You giggle.

“I’ve worn one at more of the formal events.” He defends himself.

“Very true.”

“Mumma! Is it time to light the candles?!”

“Look outside and tell me if it’s sundown.” You chuckle and shake your head as he pouts at you. “Got about an hour, baby doll.”

“Will we get to do it at Grammy’s?”

“Of course we will.” Harry says as he picks his son up. “Grammy has lots of menorahs for us. Are you excited to go on the plane in a couple of days?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “I told Jessica it’s not scary.”

“Well, that was very nice of you.” You kiss Jack’s cheek as you go to pick your daughter up. She’d been crawling on the floor. “Come on, darling, you can stand up.”

“I wonder if she’ll babble a bunch on the plane. I always feel bad for the people around us.”

“Oh well.” You shrug. “Babies make noise.”

An hour or so later, everyone gathers around the menorah. Harry holds up Jack so he can watch you like the two candles and he mumbles along the prayer as you chant it. You were happy he thought it was so much fun.

“Can we have latkes?” He nearly whines.

“We’re going to make them at Grammy’s.” You tell him. “We can stink up her house.” You laugh.

//

You were incredibly nauseous on the plane. It was rare for you to not feel well with how often you travel this way. You tried to just keep your eyes closed, and focus on your music, but it was difficult with Jessica in your arms, and Jack complaining that he wanted to cuddle with you too.

“Let Mummy rest, Jack, you can sleep with me.” Harry says, lifting the armrest between them. “Come here.” He puts his arm around Jack and holds him close.

“Why does Jessica always get Mumma?” He pouts.

“She doesn’t, Mummy and I take turns with her just like we do with you. Mummy might have to feed her quick, so it’s easier for her to hold her right now. What’s wrong? Don’t wanna snuggle with Daddy?” Harry pouts at Jack and it makes him giggle.

“You’re silly, Daddy.”

“Course I am, Daddy’s are supposed to be silly.”

Harry catches you smiling with your eyes closed, and it makes him smile more. Jack settles into Harry, and then he slowly drifts off. You reach your free hand out for Harry’s, and you’re able to hold hands. Sometimes you missed when it was just the two of you so you could cuddle on these long flights, but you also loved what you had now.

Once you’ve landed, you had to rush to a bathroom. Harry was a bit frantic since Jessica would definitely need to be changed. He hated changing her in the men’s bathrooms because they often didn’t have changing tables. Normally you would take the kids in with you to get them in fresh clothes, but you were so nauseous. You get into a stall and throw up.

“Please, fuck, don’t tell me I have the flu.” You say to yourself as you wipe your mouth. You get up and go out to the sink to brush your teeth. You come back out and wait for Harry.

“Are you alright?” He asks as he hands Jessica over to you.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel one hundred percent.” You didn’t want to say you got sick so Jack wouldn’t be scared. “Jack, hold my hand, baby.”

Harry gets all the luggage, and you both make your way to your rental car, which was a minivan this time around. You get the car seats settled, and get the kids strapped in. Harry holds your hand as he drives to Anne’s.

“I’m sure mum has some pepto you can take. You were nauseous right?”

“Yeah, usually I’m fine, it’s so weird.” You shrug. “I can always go to the drug store if need be. I feel better now.”

Anne was delighted to see her grandbabies. Jack attacked her with hugs and kisses, and Jessica babbled on to her.

“She can sort of walk now, Mum, look.” Harry helps Jessica stand, and she toddles over to Anne’s legs.

“Oh my goodness, growing up so fast! Wait until Auntie Gem sees you! Come in, you must be tired.”

Anne had lunch ready to go for everyone like she usually did. You felt hungry now, but as soon as you sat down you felt nauseous again.  

“I’m so sorry, I think I need to lay down for a bit.”

Harry stands up but you put your hand on his shoulder.

“Stay here with everyone, I’m fine.” You smile and go upstairs. You lay down on the soft bed and fall asleep immediately. Why were you so tired? Later, you’re woken up to the sound of Gemma’s voice.

“Y/N?” She whispers.

“Hm?” You sit up. “Oh, hi Auntie.”

“Hi, Mummy.” She smiles and sits on the edge of the bed. “Harry said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I think I’m coming down with something.” You frown. “I spewed at the airport.”

“Interesting.” She smirks, and tosses you a pregnancy test. “Need to pee?”

“Did he tell you to get this?” You chuckle.

“No, but when he texted saying you didn’t feel great I figured…”

“I suppose it would make sense.” You think for a moment and look at the period tracker on your phone. “I haven’t gotten my December period yet.” You furrow your brows.

“When was the last time you two…”

“Um.” You blush. “Well…I mean…”

“Right, right.” She blushes as well. “Think you two are the only married couple with kids that actually make time for that.”

“I do need to pee…I feel bad, usually he wants to be in on it, but how cute would it be if I am, and then I give this to him on Christmas?”

“It would be very cute! Go on, take a wee.”

You go into the bathroom and take the test. The two of you sit in the bedroom until the three minutes is up. You gasp as tears form in your eyes.

“Congratulations.” She says, hugging you.

“Can you hide this in your room? I have a really fun idea for how to give it to him.”

“Of course!” She wipes some tears away. “This is amazing.”

Christmas was wonderful, and it wrapped up Hanukkah perfectly. Jack got to have his latkes. You couldn’t wait to give Harry his surprise. That evening as you were settling in for dessert and pj’s, you grab Jack before he sits with his new toys.

“Honey, I have one more gift for Daddy, could you give it to him for me please?”

“Yes, Mumma.” He beams, excited he’s been given a task. You hand him the small box Gemma had picked up for you, and watch as he goes over to Harry, who was sitting with a cup of tea on the couch while Gemma held Jessica. Anne was sitting on the floor setting up one of Jack’s toys. “Excuse me, Daddy.”

“My polite little boy.” Harry coos. “Yes?”

“This is from Mumma.” Jack hands Harry the small box. Harry looks over at you and you gesture to open it. “Hmm…” He shakes the box and hears some rattling. “What else could Mum have gotten me?” Harry genuinely had no idea what else you could have bought for him, but he was excited nonetheless. Gemma props her phone up to record his reaction. He opens the box and his mouth falls open. He looks at you immediately, who was biting back a smile and tears. “Are you serious?” His voice cracks as he smiles.

“Mhm.”

“Oh my goodness.” He chuckles and stands up to walk over to you. You wrap your arms around each other. “When did you find out?”

“Took it the other day. I have no idea how far along I am, could only be four weeks. I’ll go to the doctor when we get back later in January.”

He cups your cheeks and kisses you.

“Wait…” Anne snatches the box and sees the pregnancy test. “You’re?!”

“Yes.” You giggle. She stands up and gives you a hug.

“What’s going on?” Jack asks.

“Well.” You rub your lower tummy. “I got something growing in here.”

“Another baby?!”

“You bet.”

Jack rushes over to you and gives you a big hug.

“You’re excited?!”

“Yeah! Jessica needs someone to play with too. She’ll be a big sister, and I’ll be a big brother again.”

“He’s smart.” Harry laughs. “You’re the best brig brother there is.” He kisses you again. “Wow, a third baby.”

“And then you’re done, right?” Anne asks. “I love grandkids, but you two wanna be smart about this.”

“Once I know this one’s gonna stick, he’s getting snipped.” You say.

“Oi, I still haven’t agreed to that.”

“Harry.” His mother says. “You’ll do it, and not put up a fuss about it.”

Later that night, as the four of you settle into bed, yes the four of just slept in the same bed while at Anne’s, Harry was beaming at you. You had put Jack and Jessica on one side of the bed for a bit so you and Harry could cuddle.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whisper.

“Can’t help it, you’re just so beautiful.” He puts his hand on your lower stomach. “Got another one in you, can’t believe it. Do you think it was Thanksgiving?”

“Could have been.” You giggle. “Does this mean you’ll go back to eating me out? Really been missing that.”

“Honey, I promise once Dr. Johnson really tells you you’re pregnant, I’ll go down on you for hours.”

“That sounds nice.”

He leans down to kiss you.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

[imemeyoumemeweallmeme]

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

[chat-noir-always-here]

Shanghai and Truth

So i just watched the Shanghai special. And since my “watch party”—my best friend and one of my sisters—are unavailable next week due to having holiday plans we went ahead and watched one episode of season 4.

Shanghai thoughts:

Honestly i liked New York more? There wasn’t snt enough angst even with Chat getting vaporized. I mean i knew that much would happen—how could it not?

On the other hand her face when he died was nice. “LB loves, adores, and is protective of her silly kitty.”

Fei is super cool and gorgeous. That being said there were times where she sounded like something out of cheesy kung fu movie “WITH THE KUNG FU MY FATHER TAUGHT ME!”

The renlings are adorable and very interesting i hope we see more of them later on

Hawk moth getting vaporized “Oh no! Its the CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!!!”

Her fond little smile and “sweet kitty” comment when she got Chat Noir’s message as well as her hug when he got revived was great

I have a ton of salt regarding Marinette and her actions in this special but ill save that for last

Truth thoughts:

The AMOUNT OF ANGUISH I FEEL FOR LUKA. Poor baby. I totally get the feeling of “im not a priority to this person” and the disappointment that comes along with such a realization

Mari seems to be struggling with her new priorities and the KWAMIS ARE NOT HELPING

Im sorry does Tikki have a bunch of little hats??? THATS SO FUCKING CUTE I CANNOT

“What is that liquid leaking from her eyes” okay i get you guys are basically quarantined FOR ETERNITY and your worse than Rapunzel and Adrien put together but theres a FUCKING LIMIT

A sentimonster and an akuma at the same time is actually pretty interesting.

Kitty pushing LB into the water so she doesnt spill her secret to all her friends and her boyfriend made me soft. Good simp kitty

Shadowmoth’s outfit is ridiculous and he’s so freaking serious about it i laughed my head off ahahaha

Jagged is their dad? Jagged is their dad??? Okay what? Wasnt that supposed to be a crack theory wth?? Altho this explains why their mom was so beefy with Jagged in Desperada. Damn Jagged did you at least pay child support?

Again—Mari seems to be having some trouble adjusting to her new schedule and priorities which is understandable. Given what we saw in Gamer 2.0 she was already overwhelmed and overworked so trying to fit being the guardian and having a boyfriend in there on top of all that WOULD be difficult. Impossible even. STILL. That didnt make it any less painful to watch Luka get his heart broken over her inability to be there for him due to her superhero responsibilities. Its not as if she can walk away from all that so really breaking up with him was the best thing she could do. Best for her and best for Luka.

Also she like kitty’s humor? Really? Wondeful~ (i get it was kinda a “gotcha” scene but im taking it)

One more time: everything below is salt and may not be of interest to people who just want to enjoy the show. Also im coming in late to this special and Truth since i decided to go in blind to all this, so a lot of people may have already ranted about all the same stuff im about to. Im still being out of tags so im out of the loop. In any case ignore the read more link below if youre not feeling up to venting.

Shanghai salt:

MARINETTE PLS. Do you not see how happy your parents are that you’re showing an interest in your cultural heritage? And how readily they offer up a ton of dough just so you can pursue said interest? And your just going for Adrien? When you could just wait for him to come back and take a proper vacay to China with your parents when they have the time. PLEASE.

She knows Adrien’s “shoe size” now WHY do i feel like thats one of their sneaky jokes???😒😒😒

Marinette youre way too trusting of strangers

Fei told Marinette, a stranger, way too much as well

THE MISSED MARICHAT OPPORTUNITIES

Fucking Gabriel promising to meet his kid in the city and not following through then getting all concerned after he made it dangerous for him FUCK YOU GABRIEL

[grayhouse3]

SJTR is my villain origin story

So I finished Stalking Jack the Ripper.

Originally I told myself that I was going to just stick it out and read the next one (“Oh, it’s about vampires and Dracula. It’s probably more fun. You can forget all about the pain this one inflicted on you"). No. I got 12% of the way through and had to DNF. So here are my messily compiled thoughts on the book, basically expanded from the last post. Honestly, kind of feel free knowing I won’t be writing more about this series. (Also I am adding some TWs down below but don't know if I am doing them right!)

More on the exoticism, weirdness with Audrey Rose's Indian mother, and the British Empire:

In chapter 14, we read, "Dark strands of hair were piled atop my head, my eyes more mysterious somehow with the dark liner, and my lips were the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood … I thought of my mother and the saris she’d brought me to wear from Grandmama’s homeland. I felt just as stunning now as I did then, and the memory warmed me.” I am still trying to figure out why Maniscalco made Audrey Rose mixed race. Why is Audrey Rose’s grandmother from India? Literally, what did it add to the story? Was it nothing more than just a cute lil quirky fun character trait to her? I don’t think I missed any key moments where there were important conversations about race, imperialism, British occupation, etc., mostly because Audrey Rose’s father (a big fancy rich lord) is a white man and because Audrey Rose is white-passing. I can’t recall any moments in the book where she faces the realities/consequences of being a socially mobile POC WOMAN in LONDON IN THE 1880s. Honestly, if someone else can point out a passage I glossed over or explain some nuance I missed I would actually really appreciate it, because this drove me CRAZY.

(Audrey Rose and her brother also go visit a circus in town in chapter 15; of course these events existed purely for England/colonizing countries to exercise and display their power and to exoticize/exploit the communities/cultures that they came into contact with. Audrey Rose sees silks, beads, etc. that remind her of her grandmother’s saris, smells the foods of her family’s “homeland,” etc. Also in the same chapter there’s this great scene where her brother is describing their mother and father’s marriage: “Grandmama told me she’d refused him twenty times just for fun,” Nathaniel replied. “Said he squirmed like a cobra in a basket. That’s how she knew he was in love.” Uhhh … Is that supposed to be romantic?)

On the feminism stuff:

I am too *gestures vaguely* to write much more on this. Yeah, it’s heavy-handed. Yeah, it’s cringey. But at the end of the day, it’s not really that harmful, I guess. Here’s just a fun sampling of some of my favorite lines from the book:A few of my favorite bites from the book:

***“close-minded society” (chapter 21) Okay

***"Why turn a murderer of women into front-page news?” (chapter 15) Bro do you know how the media works

***"But what of her [mother’s] insistence that I could be both strong and beautiful? Surely Father had to be wrong.” (chapter 21) Yes girl you are strong and beautiful!

***"There would be no skirts or bustles to wrangle with anymore. I was through with things confining me” (chapter 22) Ugh down with corsets just another tool of the patriarchy amirite

On the violence against women, weird classism, and stuff about prostitution:

I was bound to be uncomfortable about a lot of this because I have weird feelings about true crime stuff, and this is historical fiction set around the Jack the Ripper murders. It was going to go sour somewhere.

Consistently Audrey Rose wants to be sympathetic, but is unable to connect all the parts of this situation together: she struggles to imagine the women (very real-life victims) beyond their lives of prostitution, poverty, squalor. When she does, we see something like this: "The women he murdered did matter ... They were daughters and wives and mothers and sisters” (chapter 28). Oftentimes she wishes she could continue to cut cadavers open in peace (women in science!) without having to think about how those cadavers came to be on her examination table: “I needed to get away from those women and their tragic lives before my emotions got the better of me” (chapter 25). Perhaps Maniscalco deserves more credit here, and perhaps I’m just being a bitch, because Audrey Rose is a very privileged girl and her actions and thoughts make that clear. It’s just that the conclusions she comes to in the name of feminism, justice, etc. weren’t at all satisfying to me.

Also: OH MY GOD. Oh my god. There is this one moment that is BRANDED AGAINST THE GRAY MATTER OF MY BRAIN FOREVER and I will never forget it. At one point, Audrey Rose and love interest Thomas decide the best thing they can do is go out and—yes—stalk Jack the Ripper. To do this, they know they need to “blend in” with the crowds in East End. So … like … cosplaying as poor people? Audrey Rose manages to find and wear the dress of ONE OF THE MURDER VICTIMS (long story short her medical doctor uncle was in a relationship with this woman and when she died he acquired her worldly possessions). It’s like, so fucked up, I can’t even describe my reaction when I read it. In chapter 25 we read, "The dress was a little too old, a little too ragged, a bit too big. If I were to wear this ghastly dress out, I’d look as if I belonged in the East End, begging for work to feed my addictions … It was absolutely perfect.” Oh my god. And THAT’S NOT EVEN THE WORST PART. While they’re “stalking Jack the Ripper” on this incredibly stupid mission, the two main characters just … make out in an alley. Like, okay. People are being murdered and you’re wearing a dead woman’s dress and you suspect your father of being guilty, but yeah, that kind of stuff makes us all a little horny. Super relatable. Absolutely no concept of reality or consequences or anything at all.

Another random note on class: I noticed the only time Maniscalco writes in dialects/accents, she’s writing seedy/working-class characters. Not saying this is a problem unique to Maniscalco’s writing by a longshot, but ... something to think on. (I think it’s ingrained in a lot of author’s writing habits/minds at this point.)

Weird stuff about the dad, the brother, and what justice means to Audrey Rose:

I had to add a whole new highlighting color for this stuff!

Any growth Audrey Rose might’ve shown over the course of the novel—anything about how these women mattered, and how they deserved justice as any “highborn” individual might, simply by dint of being humans—goes away when she and Thomas come to the conclusion that the Ripper murders must have been committed by Audrey Rose’s father. She realizes her moral dilemma when she contends with the harsh reality: if her father is the Ripper, can she turn him into the authorities? Audrey Rose worries how that might impact her own moral virtue: "They’d hang Father. Given who he was, they’d make it as public and brutal as possible. Just because blood might stain his hands did not mean I wanted his on mine. No matter if it was right or wrong” (chapter 24). First of all, BITCH. You have to. You have to report this kind of thing. No ifs, ands, or buts. I HAVE to imagine Maniscalco’s intended audience would feel the same? It’s? Serial murder? Second: Audrey Rose, baby, sweetie, honey. This is just a reminder that ACAB. I actually don’t know a whole lot about how the late Victorian criminal justice system functioned, but something tells me her family's public outlook would’ve been less bleak than she imagines here.

Lucky for Audrey Rose, her dad isn’t guilty in the end—but her brother sure is. He’s a mad scientist, using the brutalized bodies and souvenirs of his victims for Frankenstein-style experiments. Ultimately, he wants to reanimate the corpse of his and Audrey Rose’s long-dead mother, and he believes he can achieve this by transplanting fresh organs into ? Her dead and decomposed body? The thing is that, this moral dilemma persists for Audrey Rose—and her dad, too. He pressures her not to bring the little matter of Nathaniel’s issue—you know, his casual murder of a number of local women—to Scotland Yard: “They’ll have your brother hanged,” he said quietly. “Could you honestly watch that happen? As a family, have we not suffered enough?” (chapter 29). Nathaniel electrocutes himself to evade capture by the authorities, and Audrey Rose and her father feel relief. The book ends by confirming that "Lord Edmund covered up Nathaniel’s involvement, I didn’t ask how. One day I’d let everyone know the truth, but the pain was too raw now” (chapter 30).

((Side note: Listen. I knew Nathaniel had something sinister going on from the GET-GO (I’m not trying to be obnoxious) because he basically started some nighttime vigilante group called the Whitechapel Knights of Justice or whatever bullshit, I don’t know. All I know is that my red flags IMMEDIATELY started going off because that sounds exactly like the terrible and awful Crusader cosplay clubs from my (bad) Catholic childhood, where everyone thinks they’re a knight for Good but really they’re the bad guy.))

Overall, kind of ...

I think one of my biggest issues with this ending was … You have already stepped into a realm of fantastical revisionist history here in writing such a fictionalized version of these real-life events. (I know Maniscalco is far from the first to do it.) That means that the rules you are playing by are essentially your own—evidenced by the liberties she points out in her Author’s/Historical note (dates changed for convenience or storytelling purposes, real-life individuals changed for narrative purposes, etc.). So WHY would you not conclude this fantasy retelling of the Jack the Ripper murders by meting out some form of justice? I hear the counterargument: "Well, because we still don’t know the culprit today. This book would ring hollow if it named someone since historians, forensic scientists, etc. still don’t know who committed these crimes." My question: is that really a problem though? This is a work of fiction. Nothing in history happened the way it is written here. Is it crueler to the women who were murdered and who remain spectacles for true crime junkies and authors like this, less satisfying to readers who want some more concrete kind of closure, to not offer that up? I am asking this in earnest here, because I don’t know. Maybe it is insensitive to make up a murderer, to fill in the gaps in order to make sense of the violence that happened. But in my brain it feels almost like a responsibility at this point, since these murders served as the backdrop for the romance between Audrey Rose and Thomas, for the background to Audrey Rose’s empty feminist diatribes, and as inspiration for a book that went on far longer than it needed to. To me it kind of feels like the least an author could do, but I have no clue.

Anyways, I'm just glad I get to put this series to bed. No more.I truly lost sleep over it this weekend. Onto something better, please, for the love of god.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Whole Truth - 5

(As promised - some answers this time, as well as angst, and fluff, and a bit of sap. It’s a long one, so get comfy, here or on AO3. Enjoy!)

Thursday

Aziraphale paced the shop, wringing his hands.

What on Earth had he been thinking yesterday? With any of it?

Crowley would think he’d gone mad. Probably already did.

Had he actually touched Crowley’s arm during dinner? Repeatedly? Let their knees brush together under the table? Ordered a shared dessert? His stomach hurt to think of it.

Not that the cake hadn’t been lovely, but he’d insisted on feeding Crowley a bite and, oh –

He pressed his hands to his mouth, wanting to remember every moment, wanting to forget entirely.

What if Gabriel had come to check-in? He’d said Friday, but it was always a possibility, always. He would have caught them, sharing a table, laughing over cups of coffee about humans they’d known through the ages, leaning close, so very close. Or walking back to the Bentley, hands brushing against each other, smiling like…

He picked up the telephone for the third time this morning, desperately dialing Crowley’s flat. He needed to tell the demon not to come. Needed any excuse to keep him away, or he…he didn’t know what he’d do.

But again, the line rang, and rang, and the foolish machine picked up, asking him to leave a message. He waited for the tone, then snapped, “Crowley. It’s me again. Do not come. Don’t – you need to stay as far from me as possible. I can’t—”

The roar of an engine, the muffled sound of Queen, and he looked up just in time to see the long black car stopping in front of his door.

A moment later, Crowley stepped out, another bag from the bakery. And…were those flowers?

It was worse than he expected. Aziraphale backed away in horror.

“Angel?” Crowley called through the door. Was it too late? Could he hide in the back room? “My hands are full, could you…?”

This shouldn’t be hard. Open the door. Tell him you don’t want to see him today. Don’t accept the lovely flowers. Don’t thank him for the pastries. And whatever you do, don’t pull him through the door, slam him against the wall and –

Oh dear.

He opened the door a crack. “Crowley. I. Oh, did you…change your hair?”

Crowley tossed his head, and now all his hair was loose and free, gleaming in the sun, and of course one strand got caught across his face and Aziraphale wanted to tug it free, to set it in place, to run his fingers all through that dazzling mass of red until—

“Just a bit. Thought I could use a change. Do you like it?”

“I do, I really do.” He slapped his hand over his mouth.

Crowley smiled, and it wasn’t sarcastic, it was genuine and heartbreaking. “Good. I – I thought you might. I, um, I got you these.”

Aziraphale’s eyes fell on the white-and-yellow bouquet. “Daisies? Oh, I adore daisies. So bright and warm…”

“Yeah, I know. And they, um, remind me of you.” Crowley shuffled his feet, still on the doorstep. “I thought, if we’re going to be poring over that book for two more days, might as well brighten the place up a bit.”

“I.” Send him away. “I thought.” Send him away right now. “I don’t believe I…invited you.”

If the smile had been heartbreaking, the way it fell nearly destroyed Aziraphale on the spot.

“You. Aziraphale. You never invite me, I just…come.”

“I know.” He tried to keep his face straight, his resolve firm. “And that’s…that’s very much the problem, isn’t it? You just show up whenever you wish, unannounced, regardless of how I feel, or what I’m doing or – or who might be visiting!”

“Is someone there now?” Was Crowley even aware of the way his whole body tensed when he worried, coiled, preparing to spring into action? He wasn’t a fighter – he always preferred to flee and hide – but somehow any time his mouth pressed into that line of resolve, Aziraphale just felt safe. “Do you need me to cause a distraction? Just say the word.”

It was the perfect out. Tell Crowley Gabriel was here, that he had it under control.

“No. I’m alone.”

“Then what’s the problem? I told you last night I’d swing by as early as I could. Yes, I should have called first, but it’s not that big a deal, is it?” He moved as if to step through the door, though Aziraphale still stood in the way.

“Yes, it is!” Aziraphale pushed the door almost completely shut, so he could see nothing but Crowley, and the flowers. “It is very much a ‘big deal.’ You never think about these things, Crowley, and I have to worry on my own. You never change. What would you have done if Gabriel were here? Hmm? Do you even remember the time you almost walked straight into him, or did you conveniently forget that as well?”

“Of course, I remember.” Crowley’s voice was a low growl. “But you just said he’s not, so it does not matter.” He took a step back at least. “What’s he going to do, anyway? Put a bad comment on your quarter-century review?”

“He might! He might do a lot worse than that! Do you think anything like this—” he gestured between them “—this has ever happened before?”

“I don’t know, Angel. What is this? Tell me that!” But under the anger there was a note of desperation, and Aziraphale had to gnash his teeth to keep from saying something that would make the situation worse.

“Crowley,” he finally managed, sounding half-strangled even to his own ears. “I don’t want you to come in.” There was a strained silence, broken only by the crinkle of the paper around the flowers.

“Angel. Just tell me—”

“No, Crowley. Don’t ask me any more questions.” He was terrified of what answers he might give. “Just leave. Go – go far away, and do not contact me until I ask you to.”

“Fine.” The bundle of daisies tumbled to the step. “Fine.” Crowley strode back to the Bentley faster than Aziraphale had ever seen him move. “And don’t think I’ll be standing next to the phone when you call. I have better things to do with my time than wait for you.”

“I doubt that!”

But he was gone.

Aziraphale let the door drift open, as the flowers scattered and blew away in the wind.

--

He glanced up from the book, blinking blearily at the light. It must be afternoon by now.

Aziraphale didn’t remember much after the fight with Crowley – he rarely did, not for the serious fights – and the cup of ice-cold tea and stack of notes four centimeters thick were the only real indicators that time had passed at all.

He folded his arms across the book, leaning against them, breathing in the spicy smell. Tried not to think about how much he missed Crowley’s jokes and snide comments, the way he would bend over Aziraphale’s shoulder to look at the page, breath warm on his cheek.

“Don’t think about that. He wasn’t helping.” He scolded himself. But, really, for all his notes, he’d contributed as much to this translation as Crowley. Aziraphale was getting nowhere, and he only had another day.

What would Crowley do, if he were here?

Terrible question. Better to ask what Gabriel would do, or one of the Scribes of Heaven. They would surely have some wonderful idea for a new angle to attack the text from that would force it to reveal its secrets, and not a moment too soon.

But Crowley would suggest going for a walk. Feeding the ducks. Getting something to eat.

It took ten minutes of searching to find a satchel, just the right size for the book. He slid the heavy tome inside and headed out.

--

“Seven, huh?” Eliza smiled, sliding the last tiropita into the customer’s bag. “Guess you like these.”

“Oh, yes, they’ve been my favorite mid-afternoon snack for the last two millennia.” The customer – she recognized him as the old man from the bookshop down the street, the one that was never open – seemed startled by his own joke. “Only they’ve been rather out of fashion in this part of the world until recently, so it’s nice to have them available again.”

“Right,” she smiled, punching the order into the till. “Well, I hope they’re as good as you remember.”

“Oh, the modern recipe doesn’t use nearly enough honey, but I find I enjoy them nonetheless.”

Weird bloke, she thought, fighting to keep her customer-service-smile in place. Probably harmless, though. “Going for a walk?”

“Yes, I’ve been rather caught up in a project, but I’ve made no progress on my translation for several days. I’m hoping a change of scenery will help.”

“Oh, translation, huh?” she showed him the total, and he handed her a few notes. “I’m taking German this year. Supposed to help with the grad program I want. What’s yours?”

“It’s a text of no known language that foils every attempt at decipherment,” he said as she counted out the change. “Furthermore, there is a curse upon it which could destroy half of London if tampered with.”

“Yeah.” She handed over the coins and bag, trying to make sense of that one. “My sister said the same thing about her Latin class, but she’s always been a bit mad.” Eliza glanced out at the sunny street, wishing her shift would end already. “Enjoy the weather.”

“I hardly think that possible, as I had a terrible fight with a very dear friend this morning, and I don’t believe he will talk to me again for quite some time. I would much rather it were raining, to suit my mood, but the nearest storm clouds are over France. Summoning them now will almost certainly have unforeseen consequences to the regional climate. Good day.”

He backed out of the shop and hurried up the street. Definitely weird. “Can I help who’s next?”

--

Up and down the streets of Soho he walked, unable to stop himself from talking.

Waiting for the light to change, he told a family how the Trojan War wasn’t entirely his fault, but things had gotten rather out of hand. “I never should have let him tell me the apple would make a good prank. My word, did everyone take it so seriously.”

Wandering past the duck pond, he explained to a confused group of students that, had he really known who Dante was, he never would have given the job to Crowley. “I just thought, poor chap needs a vacation, he’d had a terrible century, might as well spend a few weeks in Italy, all he has to do is go drinking with a poet and cheer him up a bit. And, frankly, if my orders were just a bit less Ineffable maybe I would have seen this coming!”

Sitting on a bench with an older couple, he tried to describe the outfits he and Crowley had worn in that church in 1941, though the couple seemed confused and kept interrupting to ask questions about the flowers or guests. “No, there weren’t any guests, just these awful people I thought I knew. But Crowley arrived and got me away from there, oh it was really something. Dancing all down the aisle.”

Leaning against the wall outside a bar, he pleaded with every passerby: “I wasn’t really thinking, I just – they didn’t have any way to protect themselves, it was going to be dark, and raining, and the lions. So, I handed over my sword. I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t mean to, I just – it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?”

He didn’t pay attention to where he walked. But it was no surprise at all when he found himself in Mayfair, staring at a long black Bentley and a tall, modern block of flats.

--

His fist pounded on the door. “Crowley? Crowley, please.” Aziraphale knocked again. “Crowley, I just – I need to talk to you, please, I know you’re here.”

The door opened so suddenly, he nearly toppled in. Crowley scowled at him, blocking the entrance, hair slicked back once again. “Oh. Aziraphale. I don’t remember inviting you.”

“I know. I know, please, I – I need your help.”

“Oh, now you need my help? Is that how it’s going to be? I just sit around waiting until you need me—”

“Crowley, this is serious! Will you just listen?”

The demon leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. “Go on then.”

“In…in the hallway?”

“Yes, in the hallway. Seems fitting.”

Aziraphale nodded, watching his own hands twist and wring against each other. “I deserve this, of course. After the frightful way I treated you, and not just this morning. So many times over the years—”

“Oh, spare me the passive-aggressive speech,” Crowley groaned. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I am, Crowley. This is what’s wrong. The – the curse. It’s started to affect me, quite – quite frightfully.”

He glanced up, just in time to see Crowley swallow. “Are you dying?” His voice was painfully neutral.

“No, nothing like that.” Yes, it was easier to address this whole conversation to his shoes. “I just…can’t seem to stop talking.”

“Well. It’s a terrible curse, but I’m sure you’ll survive somehow. If you’ll excuse me, Golden Girls is coming on—”

“It isn’t just that, Crowley, I can’t – I can’t lie.” Icy silence. “I’m compelled not just to speak, but to say the truth, the absolute truth. I’m finding it nearly impossible to conceal anything at all.”

He waited for the door to slam in his face.

“Get in, you idiot.”

Head jerking up, Aziraphale found that Crowley had stepped aside and opened the door wide. Nodding his thanks – knowing if he tried to voice them out loud, he’d say something he truly regretted – Aziraphale entered the flat.

--

He looked around in every direction, trying to avoid Crowley’s gaze. The demon was still tense, still leaning against the wall with arms crossed. “I say, this is the exact opposite of cozy,” Aziraphale commented cheerfully. “You seem to be missing nearly all your furniture. The walls are very white, aren’t they?”

“It’s called minimalism,” Crowley grunted. “You should try it.”

“Oh, is this the modern style of decorating?” There was a black sofa facing a television, a broad plain desk, the top of it a thin plate of glass, and an oddly shaped chair. A few pieces of sculpture were scattered around, though they didn’t seem to fit the general look of the place.

“It was. Bored with it now. Maybe go retro next, I don’t know.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale bit his tongue. He pulled off the satchel holding his book, placed it on the floor next to the sofa, trying to find something polite to say. He failed. “Only, it seems a very strange color choice, as it makes your whole flat rather look like—”

“Don’t say it,” Crowley snarled, pushing off from the wall.

“I can’t help it! I told you, I can’t seem to stop talking. Half of Soho now knows things about me I’ve never said before, and I just…I can’t stop.”

“Really?” he stalked forward. “So, if I asked you a question right now, you wouldn’t be able to lie, or avoid the subject or any of those other things you do?”

“Crowley, your expression right now does not at all make me feel safe.” He stepped back and closed his eyes. “But I suppose…yes, that’s fair. You can ask.”

“Oh, thank you for the invitation. Tell me, did you lie when you said you like having me around?”

“No, I…I think it had already begun to affect me.”

“Interesting.” Crowley’s voice was coming closer, but Aziraphale kept his eyes firmly shut. “Then you lied when you told me you wanted me to leave this morning?”

“No, of course not. I was quite incapable by then.” He stumbled back another step. “I knew letting you in the shop would be disastrous – not that I was fully aware what was going on – so it seemed the best thing was—”

“The best thing was to get rid of the demon, not to tell me that something was wrong? Bless it, Aziraphale, even when you tell the truth, you’re so – so twisted!”

“I didn’t – I don’t—” He stepped back and collided with the table; nowhere else to go. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, and Crowley stood so close, towering over him, teeth bared, and the angel trembled like a mouse before a serpent. “It’s not that I like deceiving you, Crowley. I don’t. But I’m not – I don’t feel safe without them. My lies. I feel…exposed…naked…” He closed his eyes again. The words cut deep wounds across his heart.

“So, that’s why you didn’t trust me this morning? You don’t feel safe around me? What, do you think I’m going to take advantage of this? That I’m going to hurt you?”

“Of course not! I’m not afraid of you I’m—” He struggled to hold on to the one secret he had left. “Crowley, if I can’t break this curse by tomorrow, I’ll – I won’t be able to stop myself from telling Gabriel—”

“Telling him what?”

“That I love you!” The words tore through Aziraphale’s last layer of defense, shredding him, leaving him open to the world. He sobbed, leaning against the desk behind him, practically sitting on it as his legs gave way. “I love you, Crowley,” he repeated, much quieter. “You’re my best…you’re my only friend. And I love you so very dearly. And I can’t…can’t ever let anyone know…not even you...”

He heard something click onto the table beside him, and looked up to see Crowley, glasses gone, eyes brighter and wetter than Aziraphale had ever seen them. “There. Now we’re both naked,” he said softly.

“I’m…I’m sure this comes as – as something of a shock…”

Crowley chuckled. “What, that? I’ve known for centuries. Millennia, Angel. I just…I didn’t think you knew.” His hand slid up and cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, and the angel leaned against it, drawing on Crowley’s warmth and strength.

“I…I hid it, even from myself, for so long. I never let myself acknowledge…but, no, I’ve known since…the church. The bomb. Couldn’t really deny it after that.”

“And you know I…I feel the same.” His serpent eyes almost blinked. “That I have…for so long.”

“I hoped so?” Aziraphale’s voice was tight, straining. In Crowley’s movies, these conversations didn’t hurt. They were always full of laughter and smiles. Instead, Aziraphale felt torn to shreds, he felt raw, and he saw the same pain reflected in Crowley’s eyes. “I worried, every time I lied, that this would be the last straw, the thing that sent you away for good.”

“I’m not going to leave—”

“Sometimes I wished it would be. That you would just – just go. Because it would be…so much easier…”

“They would punish you, if they knew,” Crowley said slowly. “Hurt you. Make you Fall.”

“I don’t care about that.” Aziraphale felt the first tear slide down his cheek. “It’s not – I don’t lie, and hide, and shut you out to protect myself. They would destroy you, Crowley. And I would rather die than…than see you hurt…”

Suddenly, Crowley’s arms were around him, pulling him into a surprisingly strong embrace, one hand cradling the back of his head. “Oh, you stupid, stupid Angel. Don’t worry about me.”

“One of us has to.” Aziraphale pressed his face into the curve of Crowley’s neck, felt his arms slide across Crowley’s back. Pushed himself fully onto the desk so he could wrap his legs around Crowley’s, pull him close, keep him safe. “I will protect you, my dear Crowley. I will. Anything to keep you safe.”

“Aziraphale. I don’t – I just want you to trust me. Talk to me. Let me help you." The angel shook his head, burrowing deeper into Crowley's embrace. "We can keep each other safe. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“I…I don’t…I don’t want to be alone,” Aziraphale managed.

“You never will be. Let me be there for you.”

“Crowl—” he tried, but all that he managed was a throttled squeak. He nodded, face still buried in Crowley’s shoulder, and let himself be entwined - engulfed - absorbed in that love.

“Aziraphale,” his demon whispered after a moment. “I want to kiss you.”

“I…want you to…” Crowley’s hands cradled his face again, pulling him back until their eyes met, and oh, that look on Crowley’s face now hurt even more than the sappy, hopeful smile this morning. “But you can’t,” Aziraphale ground out, despite his raw throat, his heart straining to burst free.

“Why not?” He leaned closer, until Aziraphale could feel his warm breath.

“Because…my dearest…if you kiss me, I’m never going to stop.” Crowley chuckled. “No, I mean it. I love you. So much. Every moment that I’m not kissing you is a lie. It’s why I’ve been so blasted affectionate the last few days. I need - I’m compelled - to express my love. To say it. To show you, and it hurts to stop.”

“I can stop us.”

“We can’t risk it. I can’t. Not when it’s your life at stake.”

“That’s my choice.” The lips were so close, he could practically taste them already. If he just leaned forward the tiniest bit…

“Please,” Aziraphale begged. “Don’t.”

The hands holding Aziraphale’s face tightened – and tipped his head down, pressing his forehead against Crowley’s. “Alright, Angel. Anything you want.”

Aziraphale tried to find his breath again. He didn’t think his heart would ever stop hammering.

“And we will find a solution to this, Aziraphale. I’m not going to lose you now.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have much choice in the matter. I will betray us both. By tomorrow I won’t be able to resist telling everyone I’m madly in love with a gorgeous, kind, wonderful demon, whose soul sings like the sweetest music, whose heart burns with the passion of the stars, and – oh, there I go again.”

Crowley growled, playfully. “I’m not any of those things.”

“Well, I hardly could have lied, could I? So, it must be true.” Aziraphale sighed. His heart and head ached, he just wanted to sit here leaning against Crowley forever, but there were things to take care of. He let go, allowed Crowley to step away. “I’ve had no luck with the book at all.”

Crowley pressed his lips into a line. “I…I told you I asked around Hell. Not one word about this raid.”

“Well, it’s entirely possible they’re keeping it from you.” Aziraphale stood, stretching. “No offence, darling, but you’re not exactly a high-ranked demon. According to Gabriel, your side was quite soundly defeated. Perhaps they’re covering it up.”

“Yeah, maybe, but,” Crowley backed away, pressing a hand against his hair, smoothing non-existent fly-aways back into place. “Even then, they’d never keep it a secret for long. Any time one of the lords of Hell weakens, the others swarm like…like…some sort of…blood-thirsty insects…”

“Sharks.”

“Sharks aren’t insects,” Crowley reminded him.

“No, but they do swarm. Quite ravenously. You remember that film we saw.”

“I don’t think Deep Blue Sea is a documentary.” Crowley frowned, but without his glasses, Aziraphale could see how his eyes danced. “Anyway. Maybe someone low-ranked was trying to organize a coup but…doesn’t feel right.”

“Perhaps it was some sort of ruse,” Aziraphale considered. “Pretending to lose in order to get the book captured. That would mean,” he realized with alarm, “the text itself is false, entirely untranslatable. Just a way to lure a researcher in, while the curse takes effect. But who could it be intended for?” He began to pace, struggling to focus through the whirl of emotions. “It might make sense for the target to be one of the Archangels, but they don’t do their own research. And how did the demons plan to capture the angel, once the curse was fully developed?”

Crowley cleared his throat. “I, uh, I have an idea, but I…need to be sure first. I need to see the book.”

Aziraphale picked up the bag, but hesitated. “Gabriel told me not to let anyone touch it. I gave him my word.” His fingers brushed down the leather spine. “What if…being touched by a demon sets it off?”

“It won’t,” Crowley soothed, but didn’t reach for the book. “I know how to handle cursed objects. Do it all the time for Hell. And if I’m right…” He glanced down at the bag. “I’ll be careful, I swear.”

The book felt heavy in Aziraphale’s hands – heavier than any book had a right to – heavy enough to drag them both to destruction.

“I trust you, Crowley.” He held it out, letting the bag fall to the floor. “But. Be careful.”

The moment Crowley touched it, his golden eyes went wide. He quickly placed it on the desk, wiping his hand on his shirt. “Well, that’s…” He glanced at Aziraphale. “I’ll know by morning. Why don’t you get some rest? When was the last time you slept?”

“1941. The ride back from the church, remember?”

Aziraphale never slept, usually. But sometimes, on particularly thrilling days, days fraught with too many emotions, his mind would buzz, overstimulated, until it felt numb. Then, he would lie down and drift away, and wake in the morning feeling himself again.

He’d felt that edge of over-exhaustion as they walked out of the church fifty-eight years ago, terrified by the newly recognized emotion that had bubbled under the surface for so long. Crowley had brushed a finger across his forehead and invited him to sleep, and he’d dozed off in the passenger seat of the Bentley, feeling warm and protected in ways he’d never known, not in all the long eternities of his existence. He woke the next morning on the shop sofa, bag of books resting on the floor beside him.

He felt it again now, that exhaustion, and knew it would only get worse the longer he fought it.

“Come on. This time you can use a bed.” Crowley put an arm over his shoulders and steered him, past a room full of vibrant green plants, and into another as empty as the first. A single bed pressed into a corner, white duvet and black pillows; a plant in a white pot on a black bedside table. That was all.

“Honestly, Crowley, this is where you sleep? It’s so infernally drab I can’t imagine how you manage.” He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes off.

“Eh, it’s fine. All bedrooms look the same with your eyes closed.”

When Aziraphale was comfortable under the thick duvet, Crowley sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing his forehead as they had in 1941. “Sleep, and dream of—”

“I’ll dream of you,” Aziraphale said. “Damned honesty curse. I always do, though.”

“Well, then.” Crowley leaned forward and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s hairline, just for a fraction of a second. “Too much?”

“No, dear. Never.”

--

Crowley stood beside the bed in the dark.

He’d found his answer just before midnight. He knew who Aziraphale’s enemy was. A solution had already started to form in his mind, but it was a terrible thought.

Would Aziraphale believe him? Would he agree to what needed to be done?

Could Crowley go through with it?

No choice, he reminded himself. Aziraphale needs you. It was all he ever needed to steel his resolve.

“Angel.” He reached out and gently shook Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

“Crowley. C’m to bed.”

His heart rattled in his chest like a busted engine. “No, Aziraphale, we need—”

“Need you.” One eye opened just enough to reveal a gleam of blue. “Just…few hours. Let me have that. Please.”

Crowley wasn’t in the business of denying Aziraphale anything.

He lay down on top of the duvet, curled on his side to watch Aziraphale sleep. “Like this?”

The angel struggled a moment, until his arm came free, groping weakly in Crowley’s direction. “Can’t find you.”

“I’m coming.” Crowley wiggled closer, turning around until his back was pressed as close to Aziraphale as he could get it. The angel’s arm looped around, crossing his chest, pulling him closer, until his breath brushed warm on the back of Crowley’s neck. Until their hearts beat together. “How’s that?”

“Love you,” Aziraphale whispered. “Safe…” but soon he was asleep again.

Not long after, Crowley drifted off, into the best night’s sleep he’d ever had.

--

Aziraphale woke the next morning with Crowley in his arms.

He held Crowley and cried, quietly, his heart overflowing with love.

--

(Alright! One more long chapter to come, and it’s going to be another emotional rollercoaster. Look for it on AO3 or comment “tag” so I’ll tag you here!) @black-velvet-roses-tea @witchingwhovian

[dappercritter]

Random She-Ra Season 4 Thoughts:

After much thinking and suffering, here are some random thoughts I had about season 4 inbetween feel episodes.

Going into S4 be like.

Coming out of S4 be like.

Grief and failure to communicate. This season is off to a great start!

You know, I still like Swift Wind but I’m starting to see why most people, uh… don’t.

If you told me before I started the show that I would hate a sexy catgirl and feel sorry for a creepy-looking cyborg conqueror, I would have called you a liar, paused, then said, “No, wait. Yeah, that sounds like me.”

Queen Glimmer looks nice, but I’m definitely going miss her old Cutie Honey-esque hairstyle.

Shame that Huntara didn’t join the Rebellion full-time but it’s for the best. Not just so she can liberate the Crimson Wastes, but let’s face it, nobody in the Rebellion would be able to think straight with a butch Amazonian warrior goddess hanging around.

I really can’t give Double Trouble enough praise: they have so much personality, a fantastic design combining reptilian and theatre-kid traits (two of my favourite kind of characters!), are morally ambiguous but likeable, and help alleviate all the dramatic stress that this season is packed with.

Flutterina and her village has thoroughly convinced me we need more moth people in fantasy.

Why? Simple. THEY’RE SO FLUFFY

I have some minor issues with the Flutterina controversy: yes, Adora and the Rebellion recruited a young girl to fight in a war and took her from her home and all that, which is a valid concern to have and indeed just a little hypocritical given that was how she was forced to grow up, but I feel like the fact that Flutterina is actually Double Trouble, a young adult spy with what I assume is a fair amount of combat and espionage training, makes it ring hollow for me.

Also, do we know if there’s a real Flutterine that Double Trouble impersonated or is she just a persona they made up?

Either way, it’s funny to imagine the Elberon locals trying to make sense of this little girl that just showed up out of nowhere, went off to war, and then the real one shows up right after and everyone just has to go along with it otherwise people will think they can’t keep track of their own kids.

Okay, so I’m not happy about Shadow Weaver slowly being treated as just another member of the cast, but I’m also sort of glad that it’s being implied that we’re still not supposed to trust her either.

That said, leave it to Shadow Weaver to go and potentially destroy Glimmadora on us.

Rogelio confirmed for best boyfriend.

Watching Kyle’s near sacrifice gave me some Chaos Vortex PTSD. (Pit-Truama Stress Disorder)

(If you understood that reference, you have earned my respect for life.)

Light Hope, you’re scaring the adults now, too.

Emily has a holographic projector and was at one point wanted by a ruthless conqueror of worlds. So I guess she qualifies as an astromech droid now?

Speaking of holograms, seeing Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta when they were all friends was the worst kind of bittersweet.

(After watching Scorpia leave her toxic friendship to embark with Emily on an adventure to save Entrapta) *on the verse of tears* Fricking superb you funky little lesbian! *sniff* Fricking superb…

That’s right, Catra. You reflect on the consequences of your actions like a good kitty-cat.

Sea Hawk surprisingly looks the part for a good noir protagonist.

In his own head, of course.

Is it just me, or is Frosta acting mature again? Hyperactive Little Sister Frosta is fun, but The Only Sane Person in the Room is a Literal Child Frosta would be a missed opportunity.

Oh no, Adora and Glimmer are fighting!

Yay, they were just pretending to catch Double Trouble!

Oh no…

“Boy’s Night Out” or, “How to Delight and Emotionally Destroy Your Audience At The Same Time”

Believe it or not, Sea Hawk possesses special abilities like the Princesses. Those being:

Great singing

Superhuman positivity

Nigh-invulnerability

I’m not sure if Madame Razz is a time-traveller, a Doctor, or just has some sort of Alzheimer’s, but regardless, I’m proud of how the crew handled it.

Swift Wind might be annoying at times but if showing concern for the elderly doesn’t make him a likeable character, I don’t what does.

Looks like I can add “Hero” to the list of She-Ra episodes that deserve an Emmy or Annie.

Words cannot describe how happy I was to see Scorpia pop-up in Bright Moon amid all the drama.

Glimmer is tip-toing the line between “pure-hearted character forced into morally grey responsibilities” and “grey-area wet wipe” and I am not loving it.

So between She-Ra, Huntara, and Scorpia, we all agree Perfuma has a type now, right?

I know it’s just Double Trouble making fun of her (and my love of Elvis Presley, Johnny Bravo, and Kishidan showing) but I think Adora looks pretty dang cool with a pompadour.

Beast Island: It’s Annihilation for Kids!

Yay, King Micha really is alive!

However, he still doesn’t have a wife to come back to and his daughter is making some poor life choices. Bummer.

Nice to see Bow’s still on the Hates Shadow Weaver bandwagon.

Entrapta’s got a Kamen Rider mask now and no one call me otherwise.

And she’s got a mecha that used Godzilla’s roar.

Well, even if my She-Ra-fan-heart is dying, my tokusatsu-geek-brain is happy.

How Entrapta adjusted to life on Beast Island is both nothing and everything I expected from her at the same time.

Well what do you know, Glimmadora saves lives!

BREAKING NEWS: Non-binary reptilian theatre-kid makes breakthrough with angry lesbian cat!

Light Hope, you’re breaking our hearts…

I’m glad that the show is hopping on the anti-power-up bandwagon as well. As someone who grew up with shows like Power Rangers where everything was immediately solved by new merchandise or powers, I get a sort of twisted satisfaction seeing that the shiny merchandisable new toy is more trouble than its worth.

Oh, and of course, it makes a for a good lesson on the danger of absolute power.

Before I started S4, I hated Horde Prime because he wasn’t a giant eldritch cyborg monster anymore, but I’ve actually gotten quite accustomed to his new design. Now I hate him for being a callous perfectionist world conqueror with no sense of personal space that may or may not be into selfcest.

(*praying intensely*) Please let Adora turn into She-ra through sheer-will power next season, please let Adora turn into She-ra through sheer-will power next season, please let

Yup, I was right! This season didn’t fix damn thing the last one broke!

[forged-through-trials]

While I felt on-board with whatever Llevana had planned for Ulrich, Ruin insisted that we consider other options. And besides that, I do have other work to look into here in Cheydinhal. Something tells me that were I to follow Llevana’s plans, I’d have to ditch Cheydinhal for a while. Ulrich might have it coming, but I had a bigger picture to look at. So, we tracked Garrus down at the Castle, and hit him up. Word of what had happened preceded us, as Garrus was already briefed. Garrus: “We must put an end to this travesty of justice!” Trials: “How did you already hear about Aldos?” Garrus: “Crooked guardsmen like to boast when they know there’ll be no consequences for their actions.” Trials: I grit my teeth. “Bastards!” Garrus: “Aldos will be mourned. I won’t sit by and watch the innocent being driven to the brink like that! Something must be done, but without bloodshed.” Trials: “You may want to have a word with Llevana, then, because ‘bloodshed’ seems to be exactly what she’s after.” Garrus: “Llevana has always been quick-tempered. You must reconsider her plan. It can only lead to prison for her... and for you. I swear that Ulrich will pay for this. We must handle this carefully and prove to the Count that he needs to be arrested.” Trials: “If you’ve got another plan, I’m all ears. Because I thought we were all out of options.” Garrus: “Ulrich’s been watching me, but that’s good. I can keep him distracted, while you sneak into his quarter and find whatever evidence you can that incriminates him.” Trials: I raised my brows in surprise. “Wow, really? I’m game, but I’d never expect that suggestion from you. It’s not very ‘by the book’.” Garrus: “Exactly. I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t desperate, but the fact that it’s less than above board means Ulrich won’t be expecting it. “But, of course, if you’re caught, there won’t be anything I can do to help you.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Just gonna ask me to do this, then hang me out to dry, huh? Well, I’ll just have to not get caught!”

On the way out, Ruin and I met the Court Mage; “Ulene Hlervu,” which is just about the hardest name to pronounce I’ve yet encountered. Yes, harder to pronounce than “Falanu Hlaalu.” While I struggled with her name, she introduced herself. Ulene: “Perhaps you’ve been warned off me as a scandalous, blasphemous scoffer and cynic?” Trials: “Oh, so you’re that Oh-Lean-To Hurl-View.” Ulene: “...close enough.“ Trials: “So you’re an Edgy Naytheist?” Ulene: “Oh yes. I despise the gods and those who bow before them.” Trials: “Really? Even Lorkhan?” Ulene: “Yes.” Trials: “Shor?” Ulene: “...yeeeees?” Trials: “Shezarr?” Ulene: “Yes!” Trials: “Sep?” Ulene: She stomped her foot. “Those’re all the same god!” Trials: “You sure know a lot about the gods, nerd!” Ulene: She grumbled. “Look, all I’m trying to say, is, the Nine Divines are a joke. Do they even exist? I’ve never seen any evidence. “Now, the Daedra Lords, worship them and you get effects... bad ones, of course, but clear and measurable effects.” Trials: “Preachin’ to the choir there, sister. I have no idea why anyone would worship those selfish jerks!” Ulene: “And they call me a cynic? You sound like you’ve been burned before, but you should know that not all the Daedra are like that. “The Azura coven in the Jeralls north of Cheydinhal... nice folks. Nothing like the blood-drinking Daedra worshipers everyone raves about.” Trials: “Huh... and you really think it’s worth the time to go meet them?” Ulene: “Little girl, when a Malthiest thinks you’re the jaded one, it’s a good sign that you need to get out there and lighten up a bit. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Huh, dunno if this is a good idea or not, but my curiosity is piqued. I may go out and look for this coven, and see what they have to say about their Daedra Lord.

The prospect of breaking into a Guard-Captain’s quarters, which were in the guards’ barracks, was not one I was looking forward to. Llevana’s scheme, whatever it was, was looking more and more attractive by the minute. But Garrus seemed sure it would get her into trouble, and the poor woman has been through enough as it was. If I can get back at Ulrich without getting her in hot water, then it’s worth a try as my first resort. When I arrived, it was thankfully between shifts. The guards in the barracks were asleep, and nobody was coming in. It was the perfect time to strike, so I quickly picked the lock, and slipped into Ulrich’s quarters. The place was cozy, with an extravagant bed and some posh furniture. A little cramped for my tastes, I wouldn’t want to hang out here all day, but it was a nice, classy bedroom. A quick search, and upon the dresser, I found a note. It looked like it had been freshly written, so I cracked it open, and gave it a read. The gist; it was a letter by Ulrich, to his cousins, explaining how he had been skimming the fines he’d enforced and funneling the money home and into extravagant projects, like a summer keep. Well, I’d say a signed confession of his misdeeds counts as ‘evidence’. From here, it was just a matter of slipping back out and delivering this to Garrus. Llevana’s probably not going to be too happy that I didn’t go with her plan, but I’d rather have her mad at me than to have her in the dungeon.

On the way out, I heard some noise, and ducked back behind the door, peering out. I’d finished just in time for a shift-change, as new guards were coming in to have their rest, while the one’s already here got dressed and headed out once more. I hid out while the guards swapped off, and waited it out until I was sure the new contingent of guards were asleep, before finally slipping out into the barracks. Once out of Ulrich’s quarters, I thought of just sneaking out of the door, but thought I’d heard something while I was hiding. I think the guards were ribbing each other because one of them was had a ‘cushy job’ as the Vault Guard. As I recalled this, Septim Signs ka-ching’d in my eyes, and I slunk slowly up the stairs to the guards’ beds. This was probably a very, very bad idea, but greed does strange things to a lizard, turning a coward into a reckless fortune-seeker, and once I was up by the guards’ beds, I slipped over toward the one I recognized as the vault guard, and carefully, slowly, slipped my hand into his pocket. It took a bit of rooting around, but I felt three keys in his pocket. A bit more rooting, and I noticed that one felt different from the others. With a deft hand, I plucked the key from his pocket, without rousing his suspicions. He didn’t even so much as twitch in his sleep! Damn, I’m good. I slipped the key into my pocket, as I wasn’t going to pursue the treasure of the vault just yet. I had this case to finish, and I wanted to check out Cheydinhal for a little while longer before having to run from town and lie low for a while.

I picked up Ruin after that, and we returned to the castle, finding Garrus in the main hall. Garrus: “You’re back. Good. Did you find the evidence?” Trials: “Believe it or not, I pulled it off. I snuck into a Guard-Captain’s quarters right under the nose of all of the guards sleeping in the barracks, and found a letter he’d written where he confesses to the crimes.” I passed the letter to Garrus. Garrus: “Excellent!” He paused to read the letter, before continuing. “This letter will spell his undoing when I present it to Count Indarys. Splendid work, splendid work indeed!” Ruin: “Will this evidence really hold up? It was not exactly procured in the ‘by the book’ manner.” Garrus: “While I’m loath to bend the rules, it’s the only way to stop Ulrich from breaking them. That said, I suppose the Count doesn’t need to know who my source is. “Now, I must hasten to the Count and deliver this immediately. Please, meet me back at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn in about two hours.” Well, our part of the job is done. Nothing else for it but to let Garrus do his part, and hope that the shady Count will do his job.

Like Garrus’ asked, we hoofed it over to the Bridge Inn, and sat around for a while, ordered some drinks, and just stewed until two hours had passed, and Garrus finally arrived with news. Garrus: “After speaking to the Count, and in light of the evidence you recovered, Ulrich has been removed from his post and arrested. In addition; many guards are coming forward with more evidence of his greed, so it’s safe to say he’ll be spending quite a bit of time in the city dungeons.” Trials: “Wow, didn’t take much for his accomplices to throw him under the carriage. Guess that means Ulrich’s the only one taking the fall for his crimes?” Garrus: “Officially, yes. But I’ve also been promoted to the post of Captain, and in my new capacity, I plan on making life hard for every guard who was complicit in Ulrich’s schemes.” Trials: “Cool. Don’t forget who helped you get there. You owe me one.” Garrus: “We do. You helped to bring Ulrich’s hold on Cheydinhal to an end, and without unnecessary bloodshed. As a token of our gratitude, as you did this at the risk of false imprisonment or perhaps your life, we reward you this bounty of gold.” Garrus passed me a large sack of coins, to which I was flustered, eyes wide. Trials: “Wow! I... I'm speechless. A little recognition for my hard work. Stunning!” Garrus: “On behalf of the people of Cheydinhal, I thank you!” Trials: “So is Ulrich already getting acquainted with his new home? I’d love to go and rub it in his face.” Garrus: “Indeed he is. And after what his greed did to Aldos, he deserves to eat some crow. Be my guest!”

One trip back to the castle later, and I took a quick dive into the dungeon. After speaking to the jailor on duty, Ruin and I were down there, and staring down Ulrich from across prison bars. Trials: “How’s the dungeon treatin’ you, Leland?” Ulrich: “Unless you relish the thought of decorating the end of my blade with your blood, I would get out of my sight!” Trials: “...what ‘blade’? You got a stick up your butt?” Ulrich: “Who are you? Why is there some lizard-wench harassing me? I don’t even belong here!” Trials: “Oh, me? I’m the reason you’re stuck here. By the way, tell your cousins I said ‘hi’.” Ulrich: “...you?? You!?” He grabbed at the bars of his cell, rattling them. “You witch! Rabble-rouser! Scavenger! I had a good racket going here and you ruined it! When I get out of here, you’ll pay!” Trials: “If I had a Septim for every time a Guard-Captain I’ve put in prison threatened to break out and take revenge... I’d have two Septims.” Ulrich: “...that’s not that much, really.” Trials: “It’s more than you’ve got, now, ya broke fop.” Ulrich: He rattled his bars further, growling. “I swear, I’ll see you slapped in irons! You’ll rue the day you crossed Ulrich Leland!” Trials: I yawned. “Dude, I’m a courier. I hear threats like that every Tirdas. “But, hey, gotta run. Enjoy the dungeons, loser!” Another case in the bag! It’s a shame I couldn’t do much more for Aldos Othran than avenge him. Also sucks that the guard who actually did it gets off scott-free. I’ll just have to trust that Garrus will keep his word and lean on all of the crooked guards who had a hand in Ulrich’s schemes. For now; I’ll poke around Cheydinhal a bit more to see if there’s anymore work.