#i forgot i made this joke like two weeks ago in the discord but never transferred it over here

[valtsv]

>dies anyway

[maarriiii]

Simp (Part 7) | Wilbur Soot

A/N: Honestly thought i was gonna put this series on hold because i just haven’t been writing lately and when i do, i just get stuck. Anyways, enjoy this 1.9k part that’s only 99 words away from 2k even though this series is going like this 📉 (my bad this is not actually 1.9k it’s 1.8k)

Summary: You and Wilbur are in the talking phase, and you even show up in his chat. 

Pairing(s): Wilbur Soot x gender neutral!reader, Wilbur Soot x actor!reader

Warning(s): Wilbur swearing, but isn’t he always

italics: texts/stream

blue italics: basically just you, on text or stream

my masterlist :))

~~

When Wilbur glanced at the clock in his office, his eyes widened and cursed himself for getting carried away. Though, how can he not when it's you, talking and joking around with him like the two of you had been long friends. It had been a couple of weeks since you reached out to Wilbur—he remembered slightly panicking over seeing your notification—and ever since the two of you would make time to talk despite the time difference. He can't deny that it was kind of awkward at first with both of you being nervous and all but only a couple of days passed when the conversation finally started to flow smoothly like a river. Just a couple of days ago, he taught you how to use discord.

Today was no different than any other day. The two of you were talking again, the topic resides on his band and the tour that was about to commence, when he realized that he was supposed to stream in about five minutes and he had yet to prepare everything. Since Wilbur finally have some spare time on his plate and all the news outlets that tried to get the scoops from him have back down due to the rumor being replaced and forgotten by some other celebrity gossip, he thought it would be a good time to stream and let his fans know what he had been up to.

i'm really sorry about this y/n

but i have to go

i forgot that i'm supposed to stream tonight

like rn actually

Oh my god

yes of course go

talk to u later?

Yes yes go already

alright byee :))

Bye will have a good stream

Wilbur smiled at your reply, staring at it for a few seconds before finally putting down his phone and turning on his computer.

~~

You had an idea. Something that you had wanted to do but never really had the opportunity until now. You wanted to watch Wilbur livestream. Sure, you've seen some clips on YouTube before but you felt it wasn't quite the same experience with seeing it live. You wanted to see him in his element. But, if you're being honest you just wanted to see him smile and hear his laugh. You were glad Sam wasn't there because then he would call you a simp and that you're whipped for Wilbur.

With a made up mind, you got up from bed—still clad in pajamas—brushed your teeth and washed your face, took a trip to the kitchen for a quick breakfast and coffee before heading to your office that was filled many memorabilia from film set and a growing amount of awards. You put down the plate and mug on the desk, making sure there was distance between your computer and the hot drink. After a press of a button the screen changed from black to a picture of a beautiful scenery that you took on a vacation in Italy. You opened the browser and typed in the link to his Twitch channel. When you clicked on the stream he was already in the midst of a conversation with his chat.

He was sat in an office chair, something similar to the ones in your childhood home. A green screen displaying a green meadow in the background with a little glimpse of a white wall due to the screen being folded on the top right corner. You watched the chat pouring in, some responding to what he was saying while others asked what did they miss. You tried to read some of them but that prove to be a hard task since it all passed by so quickly, replaced by yet another messages.

For awhile you just watched him, smiling when he did something cute, laughing when he did or said something funny. It felt like you had somebody accompanying you instead of being alone eating toast in your office. It was a very enjoyable experience until your name was mentioned.

"No, chat, I am not dating y/n l/n," Wilbur expressed, after reading his chat.

You slightly cringed at the topic of you being brought up. This always happens whenever you're being associated with someone. All people ever wanted to talk to them about was you. You were aware that most of it wasn't ill–intentioned but you couldn't deny it had ruined a couple of past relationships for you, be it platonically or romantically. You couldn't exactly blame them for it. The constant questions about you instead of themselves or their work grew tiring and unbearable for them. So, naturally, you felt bad about the unknown person bringing you up especially since this was Wilbur's first stream in awhile and you were certain he wanted to talk more about his band.

"Those rumors were made by a bunch of fucking idiots who would trampled over someone else's fucking boundaries to get clicks for their so called news." He voiced out, with an edge to his voice . "Do not believe every rumors or gossip spreading around, chat, unless the person involved confirmed it themselves."

Your intention in watching Wilbur's stream was to merely observed him interacting with his fans. You didn't want to appear and have people make a big scene out of it, especially now that the dating rumor have died down. But, that intention went out the window when he started shit-talking the media and indirectly defended you. Therefore, you decided to typed in something in his chat to express your agreement with him.

couldn't have said it better myself

For awhile, you thought you got away with it. Everyone doesn't seemed to notice your little comment, but of course there were always that one eagle-eyed person who noticed every single possible thing.

okay am i seeing things or did i just see y/n in the chat?

oh my god is y/n here??

HIIIIII Y/N

WILBUR YOUR CRUSH IS HERE

~~

When someone in his chat mentioned you, Wilbur had to admit he was kinda nervous on how to approach the topic. Of course, he likes you. There's no doubt about it, but he had to thread carefully for your and his sake. He didn't want to add fuel to the fire, even if the fire was shrinking. Although, at the same time, he didn't want to ruin any chances with you—if there was one in the beginning—by sounding too rude or dismissive. So, he tried to sound as neutral as possible and hoped for the best.

"But, since we're on the topic, chat, I wanted to say that y/n actually reached out to me when that dating rumor thing started getting more attention, cause like I've said before, a bunch people wanted to interview me and shit, and they felt bad about the whole thing and apologized for it and stuff." Wilbur revealed, slightly spinning in his chair. "But, they shouldn't have to because obviously it's not their fault and all, but I think it's very kind of them to make that effort.”

Wilbur leaned closer to his monior, trying to read what his chat was talking about. Some of them were gushing over the interaction he told, whilst the rest were getting excited about some thing. The chat was moving fast than per usual and he was beginning to have a hard time reading one.

"Okay, what are you all talking about? Did someone raid me and I didn't notice?"

guys he hasnt notice it yet lmao

wil is about to get caught simping in 4k

WIL YN IS HERE THEYRE HEREE

hiii will sorry for making a scene

thought i'd check your stream

Wilbur's eyes widened, his posture straightened as he inched closer to the monitor again to make sure that the name he saw in his chat was actually you—as if that would help since all the messages were flying fast.

"Wait, y/n, when did you make a Twitch account?!"

like just few minutes ago

still trying to figure it out really

am i doing it right?

"Yes, you're doing it right." WIlbur laughed. "I can't believe you're here."

oh my god theyre interacting!!!

someone clip it fast!!

were they here the whole time and was just lurking lol

"Wait, have you been here the whole time, y/n?" Wilbur asked too, slightly curious and nervous.

no i think you've been streaming for awhile when i joined

hey y/n do you know that wilbur is single

y/n he talks about you all the time

you're his celebrity crush he said so himself

"Woah, woah, what the fuck is this? Ganging up on Wilbur day? Fuck you, chat."

we're doing you a favor here wil

not the chat acting as a wingman lmao

"I don't need—" Wilbur groaned, covering his slowly blushing face with his hands. "y/n, please, do not listen to them."

i don't know wil

i'm kinda interested in what they have to say

pls theyre going along with it

"God, don't encourage them—stop spamming L's in the chat!"

This wasn't how Wilbur pictured it. This wasn't how he thought you would know about his attraction towards you, being ratted out by thousands of his fans, live, nonetheless. He imagined he would do it after the two of you had been talking for awhile. He imagined he'd be a lot more brave and forward—but not in the way that would make you uncomfortable. And then when you both finally meet in real life, whether it be at one of his shows or wherever, he would ask you out to dinner or perhaps a stroll, whatever activities that you enjoyed he would absolutely do it. But, of course, it didn't turn out that way.

"God, I'm so close to ending this stream right now."

he looks so done with us

pls don't i just got in

okay i think wil's had enough chat

"Yes, yes, listen to them, chat. I've had enough."

as much as i like to stay here longer and watch you guys unfortunately i have to go

noooo y/n don't goo

When he realized that you had to leave, Wilbur's expression changed from the feigned annoyance from the constant teasing of his chat to a dejected look, his shoulders slumped. Even though, he was bullied most of the time you were there, he would withstand it a lot longer if that means you could stay a bit longer.

"Oh, you have to leave?"

yeah, work stuff and all

"Oh, alright then. Chat, say goodbye to y/n."

WIlbur watched his chat spammed goodbyes, with most of them wanting you to return again.

byeee chat it's been great talking to you all

byee will hope you have a good stream

"Bye, y/n." He waved to the camera.

Once he was sure you left, Wilbur started staring at his camera. It was a look that was purposefully made to be uncomfortable and his chat was already expressing said feeling. Slowly, he inched closer to his mic to the point where he was awfully close to it and both his lips and nose was touching it. All the chat could hear was the sound of his heavy breathing until finally his loud and distorted voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

"CHAT, YOU PRICKS! HOW COULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT TO ME?!"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue. 

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief. 

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger. 

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused. 

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out. 

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed. 

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile. 

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out. 

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve. 

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up. 

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily. 

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top. 

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench. 

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice. 

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp. 

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger. 

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

[moved-19871997]

georgenap fake dating 700something words :))

Out of sheer boredom George pokes at the G, O and V letters of his keyboard, cursor set in the Google URL field. It autofills in the US government website on immigration during COVID. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t changed since yesterday. George tilts his forehead towards his mic instinctively, and groans, just loud enough for it to be picked up in the call. Dream’s muted and deafened, editing since before George woke up, he’d probably forgotten he was still in the call, Quackity’s muted, doing homework and he doesn’t react to it, but Sapnap does, making a questioning noise in return.

“Immigration,” George grunts out, trusting that Sapnap would understand. He sees Quackity deafen after he says that, not interested in hearing the same argument again.

“Block that fucking site,” Sapnap says, already tired of the conversation that’s going to come, “use whatever you did in uni and block the site, George.”

“I forgot what the extension was called,” George says, lying straight through his teeth.

“George.”

“Sapnap,” George returns, clipped and over-enunciated.

“You know the second it changes you’re going to get twenty emails, four news notifs and it’s probably going to trend on Twitter, you won’t miss it,” Sapnap tells him, for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah,” George says, and he knows, he knows he won’t miss it, he knows the second it’s allowed he’s applying for his visa and he’s going to be on the first plane over, he doesn’t think there’s anyone else in the entirety of London, hell, the whole of Britain who wants to go to Florida as badly as he does. His uni friends clowned him, hard, for it when he met up with them a few weeks ago, because yeah sure England isn’t the best, but Orlando, Florida, really George?

And George had ducked his head, picked at the label on his beer bottle, and said ‘Yeah, really,’. And they’d all moved on as easy as anything, with the odd comment thrown around about how George spent more time on TeamSpeak and Discord stuck in his room than out in the common areas or at parties. Maybe he was just born in the wrong country, Harry joked, bumping his shoulder, God meant to stick him in Florida but fucked up and he landed in London instead. George grinned and agreed because he wasn’t wrong, to be fair.

“George,” Sapnap’s voice filters through his headphones, softer than before, maybe because this was the fourth time in two days he’d checked the site, maybe because he was just as tired as George was, maybe because it hurt him, seeing just how much George longed to be with his friends. “Block the site.”

George scrolled down the page, just one last time, refreshed just to make sure and scanned it again. The ‘marriage’ clause catches his eye, and one of his worst ideas reappears in his mind.

“Marriage is always on the table,” he says, an offhand joke, overdone at this point. Dream would never agree to it, concerned with laws and authorities and what have you, and he’d advise against George and Sapnap, once again concerned with laws and authorities and what have you, on behalf of his friends, because what’s the point of George being in Florida if he’s in jail, you morons?

“You know I’m always down,” Sapnap says immediately, like he’d done every single time George had brought it up.

George goes quiet for a second, cursor hovering over the ‘Block This Site’ button. “Actually?”

“Actually what?” Sapnap says, chewing on a Starburst, strawberry flavoured. It makes him think of the stupid t-shirt George ordered on Amazon on a whim, wore on stream and then made sell out.

“Marry me.”

Sapnap chokes on his Starburst.

“GEORGE?”

“What?” George says, just a little petulantly.

“You’re so stupid, ‘Marry me’ fuck off,” Sapnap says, as soon as he’s recovered from choking on his candy, gulping water as he speaks. The sound of the bottle rattles down the line when it’s empty.

George sits up straighter in his chair, “No I’m being serious,” he insists, “it’ll be faster than applying the other ways, and it’ll be easier.”

“You’re telling me it’ll be easier to prove to the US government that we’re in love and going to get married than just prove to them that you’re an employee of Dream’s merch company or whatever?”

“Yeah,” George says, in the same tone he uses when Sapnap asks dumb questions, like it should be blatantly obvious.

[musings-from-mars]

@nuts-and-dolts-week - Day 8: Bonus Day!

For Bonus Day, with some inspiration from the FS discord, I gave myself a little challenge to create a story that somehow integrates every prompt for Nuts and Dolts Week! And this is the result!

This has been such a fun event to be a part of, and not only that, this is the first ship week I’ve ever completed! That may not be a huge accomplishment but I’m still super happy 🥰 Thank you to Bio for running this event and to everyone who created content for it, you’re all so talented and sensational!

You can read all my other NnD Week submissions on AO3, maybe kudo and comment if you are so inclined~ Hope you enjoy, thank you so much for reading!

Nuts and Dolts Week 2021 Stories - MusingsFromMars on AO3

Tomorrow they would graduate from Beacon, but tonight, they would have one more picnic in the Emerald Forest.

With a basket full of food and treats in the crook of her elbow, Ruby walked along with Penny down the familiar hillside trail, hiking into the forest towards what they had begun to call Their Spot. The sun at this point was almost set, bathing the partly cloudy sky with a bright orange hue. An evening picnic might have been unusual to most, but to the couple of soon-to-be huntresses, it was perfect.

Since this would be the last time they’d have a picnic like this together, they both went all-out with their preparations. Penny had dressed in her favorite white flowery dress and sun hat, and even had cute sparkly pink lip gloss, eyeliner, and green eyeshadow (all courtesy of Belladonna Cosmetic Services). Ruby had gone even more formal, wearing a white button-up, black suspenders and bow tie, and a red skirt. Weiss had remarked to her that this was a bit much for a picnic, but Ruby assured her that this was perfect for the occasion. Weiss couldn’t be blamed for not knowing all of her plans, after all. In fact, no one else knew what Ruby was planning for this evening.

Tucked securely in her shirt pocket was a small velvet drawstring pouch. Inside it was a ring, Penny’s ring. Ruby had made it herself. Even though her area of expertise was weapons crafting and not jewelry design, she was happy with how it turned out. She even felt confident that Penny would love it, too. Ruby had made it with her in mind, after all. And tonight would be the night that she would give it to Penny and ask her to marry her.

Ruby felt oddly calm about her plan right now. She had imagined herself being really nervous and unable to keep quiet about her plan for long, but now that they were on their way to the very spot she would propose, Ruby felt confident and at ease. Maybe that was the effect Penny had on her. Ruby always felt more comfortable whenever Penny was nearby. It was as if seeing her happy and safe was enough to put everything in perspective. How bad could a problem be if Penny were there for her?

Once they arrived at Their Spot, Penny unfurled the blanket she’d had tucked under her arm, spreading it out over the grass. From here, the thick treeline blocked out the setting sun, leaving them surrounded by soft shadows and gentle warm hues from the dusk sky. 

This was all routine by this point. Penny would lay out the blanket, they’d both sit down and open the basket, and Ruby would start munching away at a sandwich while Penny made some tea (using a kettle, the water they packed, and her ability to hold anything in her hand and superheat it, of course). Penny enjoyed making tea this way because it made it easy to smell the complex aromas. While Penny’s tech advancements still didn’t allow her to taste, she at least had made a breakthrough and could now smell things, and tea was one of her favorites. “I am brewing lavender chamomile,” Penny said to Ruby. “It is the tea we had together the first time we had a picnic here.”

Ruby finished her bite of sandwich and smiled. “I love how you can remember little details like that.”

“I remember most everything,” Penny said. “Though our first picnic is certainly easy to recall. It was a lovely occasion.”

“Besides us starting a minor forest fire with Weiss’ electric kettle,” Ruby recounted with a laugh.

“And that is why we use this method now.” Penny nodded to the kettle, holding its underside. “It is much less dangerous.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be trusted around hot surfaces,” Ruby said with a giggle, then took another bite of sandwich. “Do you…” She began, but recalled her manners and swallowed her food before continuing. “Do you remember our first date?”

“Of course,” Penny said with a grin. “The one you essentially had to force me to go on.”

“I didn’t force you, did I?” Ruby asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“I was certainly nervous about raising the ire of General Ironwood,” she recalled. “But I am quite thankful you did convince me to go to the arcade with you, even if the General was cross with me.”

“You got so many tickets!” Ruby remembered.

“The patterns and rhythms of those arcade machines were not very sophisticated. They were easily exploited for maximum payout.”

“I still have that big plush frog we got as a prize somewhere,” Ruby remembered. “What did we call him?”

“Mister Bumpy Butt.”

“Mister Bumpy Butt!” Ruby said with a grin. “Because he had—”

“—bumps on his butt!” Penny finished for her.

“I still say he should talk to his frog doctor about that,” Ruby joked. 

“Indeed, butt bumps could be a sign of underlying illness.”

Ruby snorted and laughed, leaning over and lying her head on Penny’s shoulder. “Gods, we’re so weird.”

“Yes, but I enjoy being weird with you,” Penny replied, smiling as she leaned her cheek against the top of Ruby’s head. 

“As do I,” Ruby agreed. 

As Ruby took another bite of sandwich, Penny’s kettle began to whistle, and she retrieved two mugs from the basket. One mug already had a few sugar cubes sitting in the bottom. That was Ruby’s mug, of course. Penny filled both with hot tea and handed one to her. No matter what kind of tea it was, Ruby always had to drink it with sugar (much to Weiss’ and Blake’s horror). She took a careful sip and hummed happily. “Perfect as always, Penny.”

“Why thank you,” Penny beamed and set the empty kettle aside. She cradled her mug with both hands and enjoyed the smell of the tea as steam floated from the mug and into the air. She watched as Ruby sipped her tea, then asked, “Do you remember about a couple years before we met properly in Vale, you had accidentally met me when I was still in development at Atlas Academy?”

Ruby’s eyes went wide, and she had to make sure to swallow her tea lest she choke on it before answering, “I almost forgot all about that!”

Penny grinned and nodded. “You know, my father almost deleted that conversation from my memory for fear of ‘contamination,’ but then figured he had advanced my software far enough to the point that my interaction with you might be beneficial. And it turns out it was!”

“How so?” Ruby asked curiously, sipping her tea a bit more carefully.

“I think back to that meeting, and the way I remember it, from that day forward I had so much confidence when meeting new people. I admit, it took me a while to really understand that I might have been, well...forward with new acquaintances, but I think because you, the first ‘stranger’ I ever met, were so nice to me, it made me so optimistic about meeting new people.” She smiled at Ruby. “And that’s why I have so many friends now. All thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me and my insatiable curiosity,” Ruby added with a giggle. “But that’s honestly really sweet. I’m glad I ran into laptop you all those years ago.”

“That laptop was not the most aesthetically pleasing chassis to inhabit. I mean, I had very little physical self-awareness at that point, but looking back on it…”

“Yeah, you’re way sexier now,” Ruby joked.

“Precisely!” Penny agreed wholeheartedly, once again making Ruby laugh.

The sun had fully set by now, and stars began to dot the dark blue sky. The daytime warmth still lingered, but a gentle breeze began to slowly whisk it away.

“Ruby, look at me.”

Ruby blinked and looked her way, surprised by the suddenness of her request. “Huh?”

Penny only stared at her in the face, not offering an explanation. A few seconds later, she smiled and nodded. “Yep. Quite similar indeed.”

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Your eyes,” Penny said. “They look so similar to the moon when it is dark out.” She looked over Ruby’s shoulder. “But I have never gotten to make a side-by-side comparison until now.”

Ruby turned and looked the same way and saw the shattered moon. It had been just behind her head from Penny’s view. Ruby giggled and looked back at her girlfriend. “You’re so sweet.” 

Penny smiled wide, her green eyes practically glowing with happiness. 

“You know,” Ruby began, leaning a bit closer to Penny. “I don’t think I could compare your eyes to anything.”

Penny tilted her head to the side a bit. “Oh? How come?”

“I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re just so bright and shiny and green.”

Penny blinked, then her cheeks glowed a faint green. “You mean my eyes are incomparable?”

Ruby hadn’t realized her own romantic turn of phrase, but she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, exactly! There’s nothing in the world quite like your pretty eyes.”

Penny smiled, then leaned forward and kissed Ruby’s cheek. “You are so sweet.” Then her eyes went wide, noticing something else behind Ruby. “Oh, the fireflies!”

Ruby gasped and turned her head quickly, and sure enough, the night’s first lightning bugs were beginning to emerge, darting about and glowing. More and more appeared, blinking in a constant array of light like a visual symphony. 

“It has been so long since we have seen so many,” Penny said with delight. “Oh, I am so happy they appeared tonight. You know it is almost as if they knew this was our last picnic here, because at this time of year their numbers typically begin to dwindle due to the changes in weather…”

Penny was once again infodumping about insects and Ruby’s heart swelled with a familiar adoration. She wanted to kiss her so bad, but that would mean interrupting Penny as she talked about the temperature preferences of flying bugs. She held off her desire to tackle her into the grass and pepper her face with kisses until later. In the meantime, she set her tea aside and propped her elbows on her knees, all while watching those aforementioned incomparable eyes as they followed the flights of nearby fireflies as she continued. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Penny’s voice began to trail away, and she turned to look at Ruby. “Oh, I have been talking for quite some time, huh?”

“Yeah, but I like listening to you talk about fireflies, Firefly,” Ruby said softly with a smile, still with her hands under her chin, still resting her elbows on her knees. 

Penny chuckled bashfully. “They are just such fascinating creatures.”

“Hey Penny?”

“Hm?” Penny turned, her eyes meeting Ruby’s again. With the moon reflecting off her eyes, they almost seemed to shine. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Penny smiled gently.

Ruby reached out and took Penny’s hand in hers, then took a moment to look around. “Uhm, here.” She got to her feet, still holding Penny’s hand. “This way.”

Penny stood and followed as Ruby led her off the picnic blanket and onto the grass. They walked through the grass a few steps, fireflies floating about them as if used to their presence. Ruby stopped and faced Penny.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and despite the slowly falling temperatures outside, she was beginning to feel a little hot under her button-up. Here was the nervousness she expected to feel earlier, springing up just as she was about to do what this entire evening was leading to. She took a breath and fidgeted a bit with her bow tie.

“Are you okay?” Penny asked quietly, still holding one of Ruby’s hands. 

“I’m...great,” Ruby said. It sounded like a lie, but it wasn’t. She felt anxious, sweaty, and absolutely fantastic all at once. “Penny, I… I have something to ask you. It’s important.”

Penny nodded, giving her her full attention. 

Ruby took a breath and nodded. “Penny, when I told you that you are a real girl, I meant it. That day in that alleyway in Vale, I could see how unsure you were, how scared you were. And yet, when I assured you that you’re as real to me as I am to you, you believed me. I could definitely tell how happy that moment made you feel from how hard you hugged me, but...it made me happy, too. To know that I had said something to make you feel real…” Oh no, tears. Not now, tears. “And you believed me.”

Penny stepped a little closer and nodded. “Of course I believed you.”

Ruby smiled, but she willed herself to continue. “Then that day when I thought you were going back to Atlas. I was so scared because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to see you again. I ran to find you, and I confessed to you right then and there that I loved you, that I couldn’t let you leave because I knew that you wanted to stay just as much as I wanted you to stay. And…” She was losing her fight against her tears, one escaping and running down her cheek as a smile grew on her face. “I said I love you. And...you believed me.”

“Of course I believed you,” Penny said again with a soft chuckle. She lifted her hand and gently wiped away Ruby’s tears. “I have loved you since the day we became friends.”

Ruby nodded and sniffed. “So have I.” She wiped at her own face, doing her best to compose herself. She wanted to get this moment exactly right. “And now we’re here tonight, for like the hundred-dozenth time. And…” She stared at Penny for a second, taking in a deep breath. She let it out slowly, then reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out the pouch. Penny’s eyes followed as Ruby loosened the drawstring, flipped the pouch over, and let a ring roll from the bag and into her hand. It was a shiny bronze color, with red and green gems embedded in a zigzag configuration all around the circumference. Ruby pocketed the pouch and held the ring between her thumb and index finger. She looked up at Penny and saw her eyes were wide, as if she were slowly beginning to understand. 

“Ruby…?”

“And now I’m asking you to marry me,” Ruby said, chuckling with a grin. “Can you believe that?”

“Ruby…” Penny covered her mouth with her hand.

Ruby got down on one knee, holding the ring up to her. Her nerves were gone, replaced only with a blooming joy in her chest. She will never forget the look on Penny’s face at this very moment. “Penny, will you marry me?”

Penny proceeded to tackle hug her to the ground. Ruby grunted and laughed as her back hit the grass. “Yes!” Penny lied on top of Ruby and smiled down at her. “Yes, I will marry you, Ruby!” She kissed her, and Ruby hummed softly and wrapped her arms around Penny’s neck, deepening the kiss. Her nerves were a distant memory now. Now she felt like she was floating just like the fireflies around them, with the love of her life in her arms.

After their kiss, they both found their way back to their feet. Ruby was glad to have held tight to the ring both during and after getting tackled, and she smiled at Penny as she took her hand. “Well then,” she slipped the ring onto her, a perfect fit. “Just call me fiancée.”

Penny grinned and hugged her again, not tackling her but still squeezing tight. “I love you.”

Ruby hugged her back, happily sinking deeper into the embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered. 

After reveling in this embrace for a while longer, Ruby opened her eyes and looked up, seeing the Beacon tower in the distance. In a lot of ways, this place had changed her life. She had fulfilled her dream of becoming a huntress and had made friends that she’d forever consider family. But at this very moment, she felt the most thankful for having met Penny. If coming to Beacon had changed her life, then meeting Penny was what made it brighter. She would never forget the years she spent here, but when it came to her and Penny, they had countless more memories to make in the future, together as real girls, as wives.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: More of that Anakin gets stuck in the past and ends up dating Dooku bc my discord enables all my crack treated seriously ideas. Read on AO3.

Qui-Gon supposed that despite their circumstances, he was actually having fun. He had been sent all over the galaxy since his knighting and had hardly spent a minute at the Temple or with his old Master. Going on a mission with him again was refreshing and felt a little bit like coming home, even if Dooku looked about three seconds away from committing a felony.

“Hello, Master,” Qui-Gon greeted easily still, leaning against the entrance of his ship. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I have missed you as well, Padawan,” Dooku replied and immediately marched past Qui-Gon towards the cockpit of the ship.

Qui-Gon only raised a brow as he watched his Master’s back disappear, then he turned to the second Jedi walking up the ramp of his ship. Master Nu smiled warmly at Qui-Gon and, once she had reached him, gave him a quick hug.

“I apologize for his fool manners,” Jocasta said. “The last three weeks have been unpleasant.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “You don’t have to pretend. I know how he can get.”

Dooku was an excellent teacher once he understood that my way or the highway would always result in Qui-Gon picking the highway. They had had their difficulties, Dooku’s approach towards the Force not meshing well with Qui-Gon’s. His general strictness had also not been much to Qui-Gon’s liking. It was good then that Qui-Gon could run off to Anakin to complain about his Master which usually resulted in getting a joined lesson. It had become a bit of a joke between him and his crèchemates that Qui-Gon had two Masters. Some had been jealous of course, Anakin Skywalker didn’t have his own Padawan and he was a skilled Knight, one of the Order’s best combatants, but most had taken it with good fun.

“I think I owe you an apology for not coming here faster, I had to drop Tahl off somewhere else first.”

Jocasta shook her head. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s Anakin for running off with our ship.”

Qui-Gon hadn’t quite wanted to believe it when the report came in. Anakin was protective of the Order, more so than any other Knight it seemed at times. His past was also shrouded in mystery with nobody knowing him before he had shown up at the Temple some odd sixteen years ago.  His circle of friend consisted mostly of Dooku’s circle of friends, though Qui-Gon was fairly sure that if they were forced to pick between Anakin and his ever grumpy Master, the decision would be an easy one. Anakin never gave the name of his Master, though he sometimes did quote him, a ridiculously pronounced High Coruscanti accent dropping from his lips. Despite all these secrets, however, Qui-Gon had never been given a reason to doubt Anakin. He was a good man, a good teacher, and a terrifyingly competent Shadow.

Not that Qui-Gon was supposed to know that, but Padawans usually knew what their Masters got up to and Dooku had taken plenty of unofficial missions with Anakin and Jocasta.

“What happened?” Qui-Gon asked once they got seated in the common area of the ship. Dooku was still at the ship’s helm, guiding them Force-knew where.

“We don’t know,” Jocasta replied. “One moment we were exploring the old temple, the next Anakin was on the ground and after…” She put her hands around her cup of tea. “He just took off with the ship. Dooku thinks Anakin had a vision but that look in his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anakin that angry. I just hope we arrive quick enough before he does anything he regrets.”

X

After a while, Dooku came out of the cockpit again and told them where they were heading next. His Master cut himself short where usually he could speak quite extensively. It was impossible to ignore how on edge he was. It was no surprise, Qui-Gon could feel himself get nervous as well. The three Jedi had been exploring a Sith Temple. If Anakin had come into contact with anything there, it could have warped his mind, tricked him. There was a reason most Shadows didn’t retire out of their own free will.

“He didn’t disable the tracker of the ship in his hurry,” Dooku said. “I have traced him and set course for one of the lesser-known spaceports on the planet.”

Anakin had a strange preference for smaller ports if he was in a hurry. It didn’t fit with his usual approach towards anything – namely always spring the trap – but to those that knew it, it made him at least somewhat predictable.

“He was here,” Dooku muttered once they were within reach of the port.

They were in the middle of nowhere on some backend Outer Rim planet where the Republic was more myth than reality. Anakin took a lot of missions on the Outer Rim, being invested in the area. It was probably because he was from somewhere around this area. Anakin’s Basic was accented. Not as much as it used to be, as Qui-Gon remembered it from his early childhood, but it was still there.

They landed their ship in the ugliest hanger Qui-Gon had ever seen, it being accompanied by an eerie silence. He got the feeling that he was missing something. There should be staff checking them, asking why they were heading here. Instead, they could just land their ship.

“Careful,” Jocasta muttered.

She too was scanning their surrounding for something unusual. Her hand on his shoulder was calming and Qui-Gon wished he could claim he wasn’t glad for it. He was a Knight, not a child anymore, but the Force felt off, like it was grieving and celebrating at the same time and Qui-Gon didn’t know what to make of it.

Once their ship had landed, they prepared themselves for everything, or so they thought.

When the ramp opened up, they were greeted by an almost empty hander shrouded in darkness. Once it lit up however-

Bodies.

All kinds of species, adults, dead on the ground and obviously cut down by a lightsaber. Qui-Gon thought he was going to be sick.

“Do you think Anakin-“ Qui-Gon began to speak, but didn’t dare continue.

“Come,” Dooku ordered and simply passed the bodies with a determination Qui-Gon wasn’t sure he should admire. As they crossed the empty hanger, Qui-Gon took in more of their surroundings. Besides the dead, he also saw medical equipment, cages and collars-

“Slave traders,” Qui-Gon muttered.

It didn’t make the carnage any better, but it still eased his mind a bit. Anakin hadn’t just gone on a mindless murder spree, turned mad from the Sith Temple. These people weren’t innocents, but they still hadn’t deserved such an ending.

At the very end of the empty hanger stood the ship Anakin had run away in. Dooku typed in the passcode to the ship and pretty much jumped inside as soon as the ship’s ramp allowed it. Qui-Gon hoped that Anakin was alright. He had always had a strong reaction to slavers – but again who could claim they didn’t? – but what they had found here at the docks had been a massacre. Anakin had shown no mercy as he’d slaughtered his way through the traders and that didn’t bode well.

Qui-Gon and Jocasta quickly followed Dooku, their lightsabers not ignited, but ready to jump into battle any second. This was decidedly not where Qui-Gon had imagined they’d end up.

They stepped past the common area which had been used only recently, a pot of cooked food still sitting on the counter, warm still. Jocasta signaled at Qui-Gon to be quiet as they continued on towards the cockpit of the ship.

Dooku, apparently not entirely lost to worry and all the other flickers of emotions Qui-Gon wasn’t privy to, glanced back at the two of them, then signaled that he was going to open the door.

Three. Two. One-

The moment Dooku opened the door, a strong Force push hit them that would have knocked them over had they not been prepared for it.

Qui-Gon caught a glance of golden hair and a gloved arm – it was Anakin alright. He was huddled in the far right corner of the room, wrapped in more blankets than Qui-Gon could count. He was staring at the three of them with wide-eyes, recognition only settling in just that moment.

“Shit,” Anakin cursed into the silence. “You are here.”

Before Qui-Gon or Jocasta could say a thing, Dooku had to say something. Typically for his Master, Dooku immediately began to retort with the sharpness of a blade.

“Yes, we are here after you ditched us in a Force-forsaken Sith temple! Do you have any idea-“

“Don’t shout at me,” Anakin retorted, interrupting Dooku. “You’ll wake her.”

“Wake who?” Qui-Gon asked and sidestepped Jocasta so he could get a better look at Anakin and the bundle of blankets that turned out to be less blanket and more person.

���That’s a child,” Qui-Gon blurted out before he could stop himself.

He felt like a Padawan again at this moment, caught in-between three Masters with no idea what was actually going on.

“Yeah,” Anakin replied and gently ran his fingers through the girl’s brown hair.

She had to be young and was fairly small as well. However, her face was very thin, she looked starved.

“Is that who you left for?” Jocasta asked.

“Yes. I saw what they were doing to her and- I can’t believe I forgot it. I thought that if I just focused on the Jedi, I could fix everything but they- They hurt her. They hurt her and I was nearly too late again.”

“Who is she?” Dooku spoke up again.

Qui-Gon glanced at his Master. He didn’t look so angry anymore, more concerned, and wary.

“What, you haven’t guessed yet?” Anakin sighed. He was so tired, the exhaustion was written all over his face. It reminded Qui-Gon of the times Anakin had knocked at their quarters in the middle of the night, haunted by nightmares he couldn’t speak about. Sometimes Qui-Gon had woken as well and the three of them had just sat on the sofa, a cup of tea in their hands, talking about nothing in particular. Other times Qui-Gon had only noticed that Anakin had come over to their place because the breakfast table was laid in the morning and Anakin already sitting at it, usually wearing one of his Master’s robes.

Qui-Gon didn’t know if Anakin had ever talked to a mind healer about his nightmares. It hadn’t been his place then, a child under Anakin’s care, but somebody should make sure that after all of this, Anakin talked to somebody.

“Her name is Shmi,” Anakin said and once more traced her cheek’s with his flesh hand. “Shmi Skywalker. She would have been my mother someday.”

Qui-Gon froze, thinking he had misheard, but all around them, the Force rang with truth, which he supposed only made things worse. He turned to look at his Master but Dooku didn’t look surprised at all, if anything, he was resigned-

He knew.

[salty-dracon]

More YTTD Theories Because I Forgot A Bunch

A continuation of this from a couple of days ago.

More theories, spoilers go up to 3-1A, and also include YTTS spoilers. Also I appreciate all of your thoughts on the matter.

In the previous post I said there were a few reasons to be suspicious of Gin. I forgot to mention one important point:

Remember the locker room and the Discussion there, where Hayasaka and Gin got magnetized to the ceiling and almost hung? According to vgperson, you can win the discussion by letting time pass three times after Hayasaka is magnetized. But after the second turn, Gin gets magnetized as well. And one turn after that, the mechanism is shut down by Midori. He makes sure “those two” are still alive via the intercom, and once confirming that they are, says “oh goodie, we can still play some more!“ and fucks off. Basically, you’ll win no matter what, because Midori doesn’t want them to die.

Midori says he observes all of the floors in the painting room, but he doesn’t really give “instructions” once they arrive or anything similar. Depending on what he’s using to monitor the room, he more or less uses his abilities to mess with the participants and the dolls. Think about how he spooks Sara and crew by saying “I’m not a painting!” if you look at the painting of him, or how he lets the crew get their hopes up about the transceiver until he speaks through it. However, he says he observes all of the floors, meaning he knows what goes on in each one. And though he’s not about losing well (he wants to kill people with the gun if he’s in a bad position, after all), he seemed to be concerned enough about Hayasaka and Gin to try and save them.

Considering he didn’t try to save Hayasaka the moment he could, and seems to have some form of disdain for the dolls, I wonder if it’s Gin he was trying to save. That brings up the question of why someone like him would want to save Gin in the first place. Maybe he’s allied with Gin somehow, whether Gin knows it or not. 

-------

(Danganronpa 1 and AI: The Somnium Files spoilers in the next paragraph)

One interesting prediction rule when it comes to murder mystery games is that the culprit is “someone who’s been mentioned several times, but who we’ve never actually met”. They almost pulled that twist in Danganronpa 1 with a certain missing student. They mentioned her by name, making us think she was the mastermind for a while, before revealing the truth. The other big example I can think of is AI: The Somnium Files, wherein the serial killer in question is mentioned by name more than once, but we don’t actually meet him, knowing it’s him, until near the end of the game and after we’ve unlocked most of the other routes.

Extrapolating this to Your Turn to Die, there is one character we haven’t met yet who’s been mentioned more than once- that being Sara’s mother. We see her at the beginning of the game, passed out presumably due to an attack by Sara’s kidnappers. She’s brought up again by Sara’s dad in a flashback before Chapter 2, and then again when Kai leaves a message for Sara on the laptop. The password to that file is her mother’s name. Furthermore, we know her rough appearance, as based on seeing her passed out in Chapter 1. And taking the events of YTTS as canon, we know that Sara, or someone that looks exactly like Sara, is somehow involved in Asunaro’s AI experiments. There’s also one interesting oddity about her. As far as I remember, she’s one of two characters to get a background sprite, but not a foreground sprite. Here I’m referring to “background sprites” as the sprites that appear inside environments without black outlines, and foreground sprites as the sprites with different expressions that usually appear when you talk to a character. Every other character, notably all of the Death Game participants, the Floor Masters, and now the Dummies thanks to Chapter 3, have both foreground sprites and background sprites. Some characters, like Sara’s father and the man that Keiji killed, have only foreground sprites. The only two exceptions, that is, the only two characters whose faces we haven’t seen in perfect detail, are Meister and Sara’s mother.

Furthermore, we don’t know what Sara’s mother’s name is. Granted, we don’t know what her father’s name is either, but her name is apparently important. What if her name was also Sara Chidouin? What if she was somehow also Sara- as in, the Sara we know is a clone of her created using a doll? It’s a mystery why she’d be raising a clone of herself, but people are weird like that, sometimes.

Another related theory people have had is that Sara’s mother is in fact a part of the game- she’s just disguised as someone else. That someone else could be Miley. Though in my opinion Miley looks nothing like the background sprite I’m using for reference, a good wig can change everything. This theory might have become even stronger with the release of Chapter 3. There are a couple of situations in which Midori can say something along the lines of “Miley said you were cute when you got angry” to Sara. Though we could just take it as Miley being an asshole (she’s totally an asshole), I think there’s only one situation in which Sara got mad in front of Miley, that being when Mishima was killed. Maybe this was lost in translation, but it’s a rather sweeping generalization and a somewhat weird thing to say about someone if you aren’t familiar with them. Meaning Miley’s really familiar with Sara. Or Miley was just being an asshole.

After looking up Sara’s mother on the wiki the manga only has a picture of her wearing a mask over her mouth. The plot thickens. 

Regarding the other character, Meister... people have made a couple of interesting observations about him. First, he shows up in collaboration artwork. Second, there is a person who looks very similar (albeit with grey hair) in the room above where the monitors were in Chapter 2. His clothing color scheme is exactly the same. Also it’s a big ass painting. Third, with the release of Chapter 3, there’s the entertaining feature of naming Midori whatever you damn well please, unless he makes some joke about it and tells you to pick another name. Most of his responses to you picking something like “Alice Yabusame” and “Tia Safalin” are either “here’s a fun anecdote about that character and/or what I think of them, but I don’t want that name“ and “that’s mean :( pick another name please“. Elect to name him Meister, and he only says “... Pick another name, please”. Considering his personality can be accurately described as “Kokichi if he were Monokuma”, it’s out of character. He fears Meister, or doesn’t want to be associated with him. So yeah, Meister’s probably important. Maybe he’s even the Meister-mind. (Feel free to boo me for that bad pun.)

-------

Regarding the game’s endings, most people seem to believe there’s two- a logic ending an an emotion ending. I agree with this viewpoint, as “choosing logic“ has been explored a few times throughout the game. With the release of Part 3, the choice of which ending’s which has become a little more clear.

If Alice lives and Reko dies, Q-taro says something along the lines of “The Dummies may be dolls, but they’re human just like us”. Implying that we, the humans, are also supposed to think of dolls as human as there’s no difference appearance or personality wise. Q-taro talks about Doll Reko being almost perfectly human, as a supporting argument, in reference to Alice who was unable to tell the difference between the Doll Reko and the real Reko. Remember also that the only reason we pushed Reko down the Impression Room was our logical conclusion that she was a fake. On the other hand, if we choose not to, Sara comments that despite the logic, she can’t see the Reko standing before her as anything other than real, even though there’s lots of evidence to the contrary. In that ending, the real Reko dies. Furthermore, there’s a little bonus snippet in the “afterlife” scene after Nao’s death, where Reko shows up, but Alice doesn’t appear if she lives.

For this reason I strongly believe that the emotion ending is Alice/Kanna living. Therefore the logic ending is Reko/Sou living. I have yet to test out to see if there’s any changes in dialogue with those two combinations specifically, as most people online seem to be playing Alice/Sou and Reko/Kanna. I’m streaming this game for a couple of friends on Discord, and also all my midterms are over the next couple of weeks, so it’s hard to find the time to play this right now.

I also believe that we’ll soon be facing another path split- maybe at the very beginning of 3-1B- that has to do with logic and emotion. Whatever that consent form is, it scared the other participants- it’s definitely a bad thing. However, Sara now faces the choice between saving Keiji and consenting to Whatever Evil Thing’s Going On, and sacrificing Keiji to avoid it. Logic would be sacrificing Keiji, while emotion would be saving him, in this case. Perhaps that’s not true, as Midori is the kind of person who can and would pull a fast one on Sara for funsies. Perhaps there’s something in his language implying that Keiji’s going to end up dead no matter what. He does seem to want to antagonize Keiji, after all. That, or someone else is going to die instead- probably Q-taro, having just been stabbed by Mai and being in bad shape. Even so, I wonder which will be which- whose death would be considered “logical” and whose is based on “emotion”. 

TL:DR So many mysteries with so many possible answers. I just want to see someone vibe check Midori like he vibe checked us already.

[theawkwardarchaeopteryx]

Secret Clanta

[This was a special request by @eatsrawredonion / step step step step for our Secret Clanta event on Discord on the Certified Clowns Server. Inexperienced in writing fics, I still hope you like it and I wish you and everyone reading this merry Christmas and relaxing, joyful holidays!]

Summary: On your way home from work, you notice someone following you and things escalate a bit. But how can you stay mad at this person for too long?

[WARNING: Stalking, mention of assault]

(If I forgot a warning, please let me know!)

Deep at night absolutely everything seems like a threat, even if there should be streetlights which actually work, not counting in flickering ones, but ones that, indeed, work like they should and serve the exact same purpose they have been built for. (or what a scared shitless young person or a person of any other age with a healthy amount of survival will points). Unexpectedly you have had to work an hour longer and oh boy, do 60 minutes make a difference when it comes to daylight disappearing just as much as the overwork time in your paycheck. Whatever, you think, you coworkers had needed help - and despite being tired you wanted to help them as much as possible. Too many people visit the supermarket at such an unholy hour and even in the (or especially, as many customers dare to come in five minutes before we close). Unfortunately, none of you colleagues have been able to take me with them, since both of them - at least the ones who had to work today - do not own a car and you take different subways. I had to sigh, both of them worried something might happen but unable to help you out.

Gotham’s streets are - terrifying. You could have used any other word right now to take away from the fear but honestly, this is the most tame one to describe the horror you had to go through by walking around at this time, no one around, or, which would also be - uhm, terrifying - someone around, leaving your mind juggling about whether it was worse to not have anyone, a person, nearby, or people, people who might hurt you or kill you. God, you wished it would end up being your secret admirer. Grinning at this wishful thinking you continue, freezing off your ass which you would love to save from the cold as well as death. You have almost been assaulted already and although you would love to change your workplace to a closer alternative, it is not possible as no one is looking for a cashier at the moment. Of course, of course, it has been - hah, you almost said it again! - an unsettling experience, to say the least that is. Nothing has scared you so much ever. You just always know that something could happen - however, you never know when this ‘something’ will strike, or for a better understanding, that someone. That someone, this night, were three someones, not running, just in their car, pulling up and that has been strange enough already, pulling up and getting slower as they approached you, asking for directions, directions in the middle of the night, directions in a one way street, directions when they stopped the car after telling them where to go because you were tired and just wanted them to leave you alone and then - you shudder, not only from this mere memory as you try not to pain yourself with it but also due to the cold air, making itself visible through little clouds, which you occasionally use to fake smoking a cigarette, a habit which you have taken over from your childhood to your young adulthood or, as you would like to describe yourself, older-child-not-really-grown-up-yet, 21 year old responsible kid-at-heart. You mean - no career so far, just saving up for college, an apartment not too far from home so you always could move back in should the rents rise up yet again, just as much as your blood pressure whenever you see yet another warning from your landlord to oh-so-please forgive him for raising is again or when you have to pass these goddamn streets once more.

All of a sudden, a sound reminiscent of shattering glass which now shatters even the last bit of carefreeness you thought you’ve had makes its way into your whole body, paralyzed, eyes widened, heightened senses - well, the last part is a lie as you are not sure whether your senses are actually heightened or just more focused. Whatever it might be, it’s giving you some reassurance in your survival skills. Where has this noise just come from? You know you should run, your inner voice tells you so - but your body is apparently deaf to its own calls, probably also because you don’t even know which direction you could escape into. Maybe it was just a bottle which fell from a garbage can, a full garbage can? This could calm you down if it weren’t for the treacherous doubt crawling through your every cell like vermins, you recall the night you were attacked - what did they do? Almost unbearably loud, your fastening breath alongside your even faster heartbeat, panting, sweat, sweat, sweat, you think you can actually feel every single drop of sweat leaving your poor pores, your pore pores, your - and steps, now you can make them out, thrown into reality again, where you should be, where you don’t want to be but where you are, right now, anyway, because if wishes could come true, you would have never ever left your workplace and you would not even have teleported yourself into your apartment but you would be working as a teacher already, young, freshly introduced to your first teenagers to teach and support or to seek support from by the school counselor, depending on who you have the luck or unluck to get paired with. Speeding across your surroundings your eyes, without any further thought, shoot into an alleyway. Only now you realize why they have taken your attention there for a sweet, sweet night out, oh, staying alive is so sweet - the footsteps, their home must be there, lying in the shadows almost next to you, hiding in anonymity like a webcam hacker. The steps have not stopped yet. However; they have stopped being urgent. Whoever is there, they are watching me right now, you think to yourself, moving a hand into your pocket, right now in this very moment. Gulping, it is impossible for you to move with shaking legs, pressed together in absolute horror.

Seconds pass in which you cannot make out any sound - whirling nightly breezes through the passages aka streets, whereas the buildings would just damp its whistling. Are they thinking about something, or -

Then they begin again, now with more confidence as it seems, confidence because - because of what? Your hand manages to grab ahold of a small pocketknife, not much but honest to work with, right? Even something personal, something with love you would protect yourself with, a gift given to you by your brother after he has been able to get himself a new one. Why are you occupying yourself with this right now? Normalcy, it dawns on you, normalcy - that’s what your brain is attempting to provide you with right now. The steps are nearing, and coincidentally the person who they belong to probably as well. Sudden clearance in your head gives you a positive reassurance - that whoever it might be, they are alone. At least regarding this one direction and by that words a compilation of familiar songs barely scratch your inner workings though you successfully ban them into a secluded area inside of you where none of it would bother you.

Then you see the first shoe, then the next, then one leg and then two and it is getting more and more exciting, then the upper body follows, a kinda sunken statue, but with big eyes, glowing eyes, glowing eyes more glow-ey than these goddamn streetlights because even though the man standing there right in front of you (okay, alright, not right in front but, like, five meters away), his hands running over his shoulders as you can make out his nervosity, he raises one of them as a kind of greeting, a “hi” almost as small as he obviously wants to appear in front of you and, as you know and damn him, as not to scare you, even if he is only a few little tiny itsy bitsy teenie weenie centimeters taller than you.

One of the greatest sighs mankind has ever experienced enters your mouth as you conclude you must have stopped breathing for a short amount of time, making this reveal even more breathtaking that you originally have thought at its beginning. And, oh boy, this is very much only the beginning. Your teeth grind against one another as you finally feel capable enough to let it out:”What are you doing here, Arthur?”

Your neighbor, and god forbid, he would be only a neighbor for the coming future for scaring you like this because he definitely deserves some kind of punishment for scaring you this much, after revealing your fear, what you have witnessed that time ago when you have been attacked and left in fear, because sometimes you would talk, because when you had just moved in and tried to be nice to everyone, but stopped being explicitly nice and regressed to simply being decent to a big part of Gotham, except for him because he has always been genuinely lovely and sweet, only sweet to you, awkward and nervous, yet you could understand, in some way, and you thought you could be friends, in some way. And he had taken care of your wounds, yes, good care, when after his 60-hour-week, after bringing his mother to bed, he has provided you with first-aid, then you had called the police, but he has been there. And, compelled to somehow make it up to him, his tired self having felt  the need to aid you, you agreed to accompany him to his workplace’s Christmas party, where he has stick to you the entire time, and you have stick to him as well, because, well, you did not know anyone and you also did not really - like anyone, the way they made fun of Arthur, this sweet man, who had to be stuck with you, but nonetheless talked, talked, and nervously asked you if he could tell you some jokes, and he was so sweet and nice, like a good real friend, and he was just - there.

Just as much as he is here now, this sweet man, who you know and would love to call a friend, who you love as a friend, who you would - would not mind getting to know better with time, for no reason, or for a better understanding: You could actually think of a good reason. However; it would be worth more if he told you himself instead of keeping you guessing.

Arthur now caresses his neck, sliding around, curls his hair a bit, looking down; only to swift up immediately, as if he just has realized that you expect an answer from him. He begins to smile, although the bewilderment in his eyes is already a given, always a part of him - unthinkable for him to be without and, sounding more romantic than it is, as inseparable than the moon and stars or this city and high crime rate. Almost sucking his words back in, Arthur eventually gathers the strength to form a reply, now his gaze upon you, although you swear you can see it moving around your face in the shadows as he has still not been able to raise his own:”I was accompanying you.”

That’s it? Goosebumps bump up on your body, one of your friend’s legs begins to tap on the ground, tap, tap, tap, and if anyone would now look out of their window, they would either think it is another drug deal going on or a friendly, friendly conversation between two strangers, friends, neighbors or whatever or that’s what they would love to tell themselves, while scared and/or ignorantly ignoring how this could also be some kind of assault, yeah, best not to get involved.

Tap, tap, tap, tap. You feel like snapping, you really do. You have always known him as - weird, but charming, kinda cute in his lack of understanding of social life, his apparent unawareness and disknowledge or, as that is not a real world, inexperience in knowledge. You cannot even think of anything logical as it escapes you, not screaming but very much obviously tense:”You were what?”

Silence for a minute; Arthur’s lip becomes shaky, and you can make up tears crawling up his eyes as much as more and more shudders from your side. Accompanying you? What was he thinking? You have no idea how to respond, so instead you wait and hope - and hope for a little bit more input, a little push to send his explanation into logic oblivion - but to no avail. “I wanted to make sure you are alright, Y/N,”, he begins, now the vibrations taking over his voice as if they were contagious, from legs to lips to voice to brain, brain, brain - oh, yeah, his brain. it does not make much sense right now, this is - a weird thing to do, he cannot think clearly right now, you are sure of that, he is scared and nervous and has no fucking idea of what to do and what to say. Question now is: If he has done it tonight, how many times before has he done it? Without you realizing? Absurd yet disturbed you let your pocketknife fall. Okay, let’s get this straight - he was trying to protect you? “I’ve heard - people do that if they like someone,”, his voice cracks at the sequel of his explanation. Now that’s - that’s just… ridiculous, heartbeat going crazy, sweat set free as if it were a feral beast released into the wild, caged inside your bone marrow bars, behind bars, caging your heart in, but now out, in, now out, in, now out, your rage begins to take over - you’ve been scared shitless, you have feared you life. But instead it has just been - just been unknowing Arthur. You cannot relax, no way.”Why would you do that? Has no one ever told you?”, raising your voice, but not enough for your anger to shine through, bringing some light to him to have a better sight at your true emotions.”Have your parents never taught you anything?” Instant regret begins to flood you and especially your eyes, on the verge of crying. He has not scared the shit out of you, no, not only that - he has managed to take it as his own to now talk it. And now you just regret these thoughts as well - as he does not deserve it, not completely. You’ve just been so scared, so incredibly scared and the memories were almost breaking through, you could feel them tickling your throat, making you want to throw up - but as soon as your thoughts have the chance to let them seep through the cracks of distress anyway, you begin to focus on what is in front of you, who is in front of you. Narrowed eyebrows, eyes reflecting every bit of light as of how much they are filled with tears now, only a matter of time until they fall down his face, him getting uncomfortably close (well, yeah, closer, not close - closer, armlength that is), his not-too-tall-shape hovering over you in the extend which is possible.”Why are you saying this?”

You move a bit backwards, but Arthur doesn’t seem to want to let go - and it almost feels like as if he were trying to make the pressure on you not only emotional in nature but also physical.

“Arthur, I’m so, so, sorry. I was just.,”, you bring out, actually never having witnessed so much guilt taking over you, your posture narrowing down closer to the ground, crouching a tiny, tiny bit - not standing but crouching. Arthur’s attempts are less than soothing; her shakes now, leaning forward with his upper body, closer to your face than before, and for the blink of an eye you‘ve had thought of reassuringly telling him that you are sorry, that what he was doing was creepy but that you - appreciate his concern and that he could have asked you, just - asked you. Although you would have said no in every single way possible to the human species, as you would not want his working hours to expand to 24/7, but now his frame is dangerously close, you still try to walk backwards, raising you hands in defense should he try something. Sweet, sweet Arthur. Oh god. You would never have expected any of this - to happen, for him to be like this. You have known about his issues but not to how deep they go - nothing too personal, as he has never invited you to his home, and you have found his innocent unawareness, his sweet consideration, his adorable humor more than just friendly-charming, but charming in another, never-expected way, not before, not ever in your young life. And now you doubt everything that you think you have felt - that you two were heading to friendship town, and maybe, your inner self blushing madly while hiding its face, more, like best friends or this other kind of friends, this lovely kind, this lovey kind, one of a kind -

“I was just trying -,”, you hear his throat being soar, just as you notice bruises on his neck, exposed from his sweater, his special sweater as it is a Christmas sweater, an “embarrassing” one, warm and fuzzy and angelic -

“To make sure you are safe! I want you to be safe!” His veins pop out by how much overtaken he is by anger, on his bruised neck, hurt neck, where he has been hurt somewhere, hurt, hurt by someone, how dare they, he doesn’t deserve this, this is just his outlet now, he does not deserve this treatment, even if he is scaring the hell out of you right now, he does not -

Safe. Safe. I do not feel safe right now, Arthur, not with you, not safe, you can only produce these thoughts as he coughs for a few seconds, unable to walk away, not - wanting to go away because a baby, a fetus, an embryo part of you still wants to believe he is this nice guy from the same damn building, the one you have learned to appreciate. Oh, wow, finally they leave you the fuck alone and go on their merry way, your tears, running down your cheeks, your heated cheeks in this heated - argument? - which has made you totally forget about the freezing cold air without any source of warming light. And he cannot even get any closer, just half a meter away, cramping hands,”That’s what people do when they care, don’t they? That’s people do!” Care? He cares, he cares - does that mean you could try to get through him? He obviously has had a rough day, or, as far as you are concerned now, a very bad week and month and, even worse as the fears makes your nerves tingle on your ribcage like a xylophone, life, at least a big part of it. With you eyes widened in shock you can’t help but pay attention to the details - which would be that now, as he is having this breakdown, bites his lip, a fire suddenly igniting in his face, he’s drawing blood, oh god, Arthur, you are sorry, so, so, so sorry, you -

Taken aback by the sudden hit as well as the unexpected cold freezing shiver going through your heated cheek you gasp, your hand covering your mouth. Eyes drifting towards the ground, widened in shock, Arthur does the same, just that he, as very much apparent, now tries to stifle his wallowing up laughter, painfully obviously crying while doing so, managing to bring out a desperate “I’m-,”, gulping violently, you still unable to process what just had happened but even more so, what you are exactly feeling about it,”, so, so sorry. I -,”, another gulp, a final one as it seems, he trembles for a few seconds, breathing heavily. You are not even sure who has felt more pain - him or you. Another feeling makes its way into your mind and from there on, begins to infest your every fiber of being, unaccustomed to it, yet - strangely exciting, strangely something you would never have seen coming ever in your life, nothing you would have talked to anyone about - not even your fictional friends in your fictional world where you feel like you can tell them absolutely everything, and even beyond. “Arthur, you,”, you try to break through the uncomfortable tension, attempting to bring on a new kind of tension,”, don’t have to - to apologize. I want you -,”, collecting yourself, absolutely bewildered by what you are now about to say,”, to do it again.”

This has been the wrong answer apparently, because he is sent into a mini laughing fit, no, fight (some letters were missing that fit just so much better considering his condition), coughing in a torturing way, not able to look into your eyes as raises his head to your almost-identical height. Oh god, what did you just say? Oh god, oh my fucking god. Not yet, you think, I don’t even know him, we need to get to know each other better first, not yet. Wait - why are you thinking “not yet” so many damn times? Oh no. Oh no. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. So - so no. Adorable, friendly Arthur. Adorable, sweet, cute, terrifying, like the streets of Gotham at night, and if people at least once would try to get to know him as him and neither sorely his condition nor his occupation, as helpless and as much as a victim as you were when you were attacked, as helpful and lovely as only few of can compare to in your experience, they would realize that he deserves so many beautiful things, that , and you are sure you want to help with those things, help him with many things, just - help him. You collect your thoughts, everything has been chaotic these past few minutes. And all of this anger inside of him - is hopefully out now. “I am so sorry for what I have said, Arthur, I’m just -,”, your sleeve being pulled over your face to dry it from the tears,”I was scared, you came out of nowhere. Please don’t do that again, that’s just - spooky.” You begin to smile reassuringly, yet obviously still emotionally drained. but Arthur turns his head to the sides, scratches it (oh, that’s him being nervous!), feet tapping on the ground, he cannot even look at you, mumbling a heartbreaking “sorry, I will not bother you again” and makes his way into - well, the exact same direction you would have entered into anyway, so you quickly call his name (not too loud, obviously, as no one would want to be woken up, not even considering these unholy hours, but in general - just who on earth would like to be woken up late at night be a Disney movie ending, with both friends and foes falling into each other’s arms, forgiving each other, as comrades), and he turns around with his hair flowing majestically, floofly, your frozen ice cream legs easily catch up to everyone waiting, which now sounds as if there were more than one person, but it is just one, just that his - impact is one of a kind, an impact so strong it could have been more than one person, that’s - that’s just strong his impression is, one person whose name is Arthur Fleck, the one who you’d love to be a friend of, and maybe more, maybe - maybe, considering your more-than-revealing feelings today, but for that you’d like to get to know him even better, not just occasionally.

“I - I’m sorry for what I said, Arthur, I was not feeling good and I should not have let it out on you,”, your apology is sincere, shaky voice, still a little bit distraught but now a happy smile creeps onto your mouth, creeping on you like Arthur, but lovely, welcoming, not stalking, not - stalking your face. Your friend (?)/neighbor (?) looks utterly surprised, everything open in shock, eyes and face, his ears most likely too, as he seems to have understood.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tapping leg. Tap, tap, talk, talk. He holds his mouth closed for yet another time, most likely out of fear it will happen the exact same way it just burst out of him. But oh, no, this side of him - terrified you (hah, terrify!).

“I’m so sorry,  Y/N,”, he then says and you swear, you have never in your life seen to much pain, pain from everything around you, in someone’s eyes alone,”,I will leave you alone now, I am sorry, I’m sorry”. It is dangerous to your mood talking to him, you think. He’s bringing you so much pain.

“Don’t be sorry. It was - weird and… and creepy, but,”, you now walk up to him, smiling at him with the full intent to make him feel better and to show him that everything is alright now,”,you have apologized and won’t do it again, right?”

Arthur looks to the ground for a few seconds, his gaze wanders to you, who is patiently waiting by his side; he nods, slowly. “I mean - since we are already here, how about we walk home together?”

Arthur smiles, no - completely shines at you, with his whole being, his inside joy being so intense at this thought that you would bet your shitty apartment on this that the world around both of you actually just got a little brighter as he heard you say that. You point towards him, grinning, as both of you had just stood there motionless, no one had started to finally, finally head to both your homes. Arthur, weird but - adorable, annoyingly, interestingly adorable Arthur leads you on to a journey both of you would never forget. One last thing, you think, one last thing about this incident tonight, tonight, after this, I do not want to talk about this again, maybe some other time.

“Thank you for walking me home. Can you ask me next time? I’d feel much - safer with you around. Being alone here sucks.” Arthur smiles, apparently covering a part of his face to hide something - his stifled laughter? His excited eyebrows being raised? His blush? It doesn’t matter, both of you appear so much more relaxed now that none of you are alone anymore. He then looks at you, grazing his neck ever-so-slightly yet again. “Well, I had planned that from the start. Just good that I don’t have to - don’t have to walk in these dark streets anymore. You can’t believe how many times I have stumbled.” He laughs, and although that was a crude attempt at a joke, you cannot help but grin bashful, the heat in your face rising, warming you up, being with him warming you up, hoping he would also warm you up with his self, his jokes, in the future.Then you remember something, something extremely important, of the highest caliber of importance which you will, from now on, never overlook, and pay attention to. “Arthur, by the way, let me help you with this injury on your neck once we arrive,”, just having remembered it, you hope to be able to help him, to give back to him what he has given you already - support, aid in times of need. “I’m pretty sure you have no more band-aids at your apartment, at least your supply was empty after, you know -,”, abruptly stopping, you wink in understanding. He looks seriously worried for a second, seriously, but apparently you worrying about him as well fills him with something else, as he has to look away, again covering his face for a split second. You wouldn’t even be able to see his blush in the dim light (that is if your assumption is true, hah!), but you would like to someday, maybe, possibly, if he allows it, if you allow it (your nervous self, god, are you nervous right now!), if you both get to learn more about each other and get along good enough. Well, today seems to have been a promising sign. And you can’t deny it but your hopes? They are up.

[bcketts]

INTRODUCING...ALLIE BECKETT. ( @gallagherintro​ )

OK, I’M VERY EXCITED AND NERVOUS BC...what a weird time to bring in a new character ! i hope it works out, who knows ??? i guess i’ll be plotting with you all for a bit while allie is confined to the 5th floor with no phone lmao, but i have lots of plot ideas and muse so i can talk your ear off forever. so at least there’s that. 

if you’d like to plot on tumblr LIKE THIS POST and if u want to plot on discord, hmu at #kati7600 for a good time ( or just comment or something and i’ll hit u up )

click here for her stats page & here for her pinterest ! 

⌠ VIRGINIA GARDNER, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE+HER ⌡ welcome to gallagher academy, ALLISON “ALLIE” BECKETT! originally hailing from POINTSETT, ARKANSAS they were exposed to too much during the protest, and the academy is now in charge of their safe care. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( warm chamomile tea on a winter morning, a collection of polaroids stacked in shoeboxes under your bed, bare feet running through an open field, laughter until your sides hurt. ) when it’s the ( virgo ) ’s birthday on 8/28/98, on the bad nights they request their HAWAIIAN PIZZA from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re safe in witness protection. ⌿ kati, 23, est, she/her ⍀

hi i’m sorry her bio is long and in 2nd person but at least u have lots of time to read it while she’s on lockdown ??

you come into this world silent. from the moment you are born, jeremy, your twin brother, does all the screaming for you. both blonde-haired with blue eyes, things will come easy to you – but even easier for him, because red-faced and screaming, he knows how to make his mark. katherine and richard beckett are thrilled to welcome two perfectly happy and healthy babies. and as your brother screams beside you, develops colic and obstinance, you are deemed the favorite – he is deemed the problem. people underestimate how important those early years are.

it’s your first day of kindergarten and you bury yourself in your mother’s skirt, scared. jeremy runs in the room with confidence, introducing himself to the other kids and settling in the corner near the firetrucks. but you cry so much that your mother takes you home and when you finally come back a week later, all the children stare at you, like you’re going to explode at any moment. but children are resilient and within time, you make friends and you excitedly tell your mother about each new day in the car.

you go to church with your family on sunday mornings and your parents dress you up like a doll. you love the pink ribbons though, the way your parents dress you up and introduce them to all your friends. your brother is a lost cause and gets to play his gameboy on the pews but you are your parents pride and joy and you are paraded around – people love a little blonde girl and you smile widely at everyone you meet. it’s all a show though, you know that as you listen to your parents from the top of the stairs at night, yelling. they’re not happy. you clutch the railing, listening in, and you fight back the tears that threaten to stream down your face.

on your tenth birthday, your parents throw the two of you an elaborate party and you have a bouncy castle and everyone brings swimsuits for the pool. your parents can’t stop smiling. it isn’t until late that night after all the streamers have been taken out with the trash that you hear them yelling again. you listen in from the corner of the kitchen. you hear a glass shatter and you race upstairs to your brother. “i think they’re going to divorce,” you tell him. he laughs. “they’ll never do that, no matter what. we’re catholic, allie.” he flashes you a wry smile and you find yourself wondering what to believe.

your best days are spent at pointsett park. your parents often take you there after church, on sundays, and you and jeremy run around through the forests pretending to be wood nymphs with sticks in your hair. as you get older, the magic starts to fade and you feel less like a fairy princess and more like a moody teenager, but you and jeremy fill a shoebox full of things from your childhood and bury it, deep in the park, by the ugly tree. “if i were a tree, i’d be this one,” he jokes, as if all the girls at pointsett middle haven’t just sent him candy grams. “shut up,” you say, shoving him, “or put you in the ground instead of this shoebox.” he grins wryly at that. “clever.” you always were the clever one.

it’s the first day of high school and you feel like an outsider, everyone’s getting their first kisses and jumping in cars and you have to be home in time for curfew. you have friends from church, but with every glass your mother breaks, you wonder how much you really fit in with them at all. in an attempt to try something new, you go to cheerleading tryouts, but of course, you don’t make the team. at least you won’t have to beg your dad to let you wear the uniform. you trudge home and expect to be greeted by yells - you’ve come home late - but your parents are in the kitchen, berating your brother. he smells like marijuana. he gives you a lazy wink from the kitchen as you sneak upstairs.

a boy asks you on a date, a real one, your first real date ! you’re only a sophomore and wade matthews is a senior and you’re really nervous when he picks you up in his car. he tries to kiss you throughout the whole movie but you’re nervous and really, you want to watch the movie. when he pulls the car in an overhang near the mountains and kisses you, it’s rough and unwanted and he goes in with tongue. it’s hardly the enchanting first kiss you imagined and you pull back. is that what kissing’s like? really? he goes in again, saying he’s really turned on, asking if you want to have sex. you say no, but he tries to kiss you again. you push him back so hard his head hits the dashboard. “take me home,” you say. and he does. he obviously doesn’t call.

you have a few girls over for a sleepover and you’re sitting around in your pjs watching grease and passing around thermoses filled with rosé. you pass it on to the girl beside you without taking a sip. you start to raise the volume on the tv as you hear your parents fighting downstairs ( you think your mom might be sleeping with her doctor, which is all kinds of weird. )  when the thermos comes back to you, you take a swig.

you’re sitting in the basement with jeremy, head in your hands. “that’s it, i’m never drinking again.” he laughs. “allie, it’s your first hangover. you’re gonna be okay. and you’re probably going to drink again. it’s okay.” you shake your head, “this is exactly why it’s wrong, i’m so stupid.” your brother sits on the bed beside you, wraps his arm around you. “you’re allowed to be a stupid teenager, you know? fuck up a bit? mom and dad are…they’re crazy. i love ‘em, but they’re so obsessed with consequences, with image. if you don’t quit overthinking shit, you’re gonna wind up just like them.”

“COMING SOON: POINTSETT MALL” the poster is covered in icons, like a dunkin’ donuts and a macy’s. lots of people in the town talk about how excited they are, but they don’t talk about the fact that they’re tearing up pointsett park to build it, the park that holds all your best memories, all the ways you and jeremy would disappear into the woods growing up, skipping rocks in the pond and catching glimpses of magic creatures in the trees ( creatures that mostly turned out to be squirrels, ) where you buried your time capsule. you and jeremy sneak into the park late at night to dig it up, ducking under the caution tape. while you stand there digging, you get the idea: “we have to save the park!” you say, and it starts out as bake sales, town meetings, the twins who think they’re going to save a couple trees from corporate capitalism. but you make a video of the two of you, the history of playing in the park, and you talk about your dreams and memories. that’s what goes viral, and that’s what garners attention. suddenly, hundreds of people are showing up at your town hall – not because they love the park, but because they used to love their own special place, the one that’s now a walmart, a target, a gas station.

they build the strip mall. of course they do, because in the end it comes down to money. but the social media campaign that spirals, everyone sharing their own special places and what became of them, has made an impact. your project – Save Pointsett Park – is enough to get both you and your brother the interest of several prestigious schools. you have nearly the same SAT scores, even though you took two prep classes and studied for weeks and he nearly forgot about the test entirely, walked in with his shoes untied and a blunt in his shirtpocket. in the end, you both choose georgetown together, because despite your differences, you always do everything together.

you opt for a degree in global health because it combines your interests – biology and helping people, and you have dreams of working in healthcare and bringing it to parts of the world that don’t have it. you might have something of a complex, maybe something to prove. you’ve always had a diminished interest in boys, opting to put your studies first, until you meet him – richard hudson, the sort of boy you daydream about even though you stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. he’s the second boy to kiss you and it feels so much different than wade matthew’s sweaty car at the drive in. he’s gentle and sweet, and he makes you feel uncharacteristically special – you wish you’d had the patience to wait for a first kiss like that. jeremy only teases you a little bit when you toss your purity ring – and he never even owned one.

you’re comfortable with him in a way you’ve never been with anyone else, and his attention has you falling hard and fast. you’re obnoxiously perfect at times, all over each other and always laughing, but like most fairy tales, things end. you notice the way he looks at her, the way he talks about her, and the way his eyes linger. you’re reminded of your parents, stuck in some unhappy farce when they’d really rather be anywhere else, with anyone else. you don’t want to be like them – you don’t want to trap him like that. so, you step back where you’re supposed to, even though it hurts, and your saving grace is jeremy, who holds you through the night through your first heartbreak. you experience all your sadness together.

until you don’t. here is the first sadness you’ve ever had to process without jeremy by your side, and it happens so fast. one second, he’s alive, and the next he’s blown into nonexistence, leaving a gaping ache in your chest that doesn’t seem to sooth itself. until now, your life has always been cushy, perfect, and smooth sailing. now, you toss and turn with nightmares, a ghost of yourself, trying to understand why you’re the one who gets to survive and why you matter at all. you’ve never existed in this world without him, and you thought you’d never have to.

you don’t sleep well now. you wander the halls at night, you act a little more recklessly. after all, jeremy broke rules all the time. maybe it’s your turn. 

HEADCANONS.

sweet and pampered, maybe, but she’s still from arkansas. allie is extremely capable with a firearm and has pretty keen survival skills. she’s never actually shot anything, but she’s gone to the shooting range with her dad enough times, and she has been on frequent fishing trips. her family used to go camping quite a bit.

really a terrible driver. she’s really easily distracted and cannot focus, she’s a bit of a disaster behind the wheel, but it’s almost comical – as long as you’re not in the passenger seat.

is bisexual, although she’s never had the chance to explore that. growing up in a strictly catholic household and then spending most of her college years dating a boy, she’s never really thought about. finding girls pretty and thinking about them like that is what everyone does, right?

bakes when she’s stressed or upset. she’s got treats for everyone right now.

currently plagued by night terrors and is having a lot of trouble sleeping, so find her staying up until all hours or wandering campus with some dark circles under her eyes. she’s trying to cope, but it isn’t coming easily right now. it’s pretty disorienting, and anyone who knows her will notice the difference in disposition.

has traveled a lot for mission and/or service trips. uganda is where she usually goes, she’s been spending summers volunteering at the same women’s clinic for the past three years.

pineapple pizza advocate and WILL fight you on that 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

someone at gallagher she has a crush on. Basically, someone at gallagher who has really caught her eye and she’s stuck daydreaming about. The purpose of this is because she’ll be super nosy about them, trying to learn more about them, and that’s probably going to make this character nervous.

a dare/challenge??? This is so cheesy of me, but I’d love a plot where a Gallagher student has a dare or something to hook up with one of the WP kids and they make Allie into their sort of conquest. Things probably won’t go as planned for them.

brother’s ex/best friend. I might submit this to the main, but I’d love a WP character who was allie’s best friend & was dating her brother. All this grief and sadness and not knowing who to comfort who, but also getting over the loss together.

crushing??? I feel like all the WP kids are pretty paired off, but...it might be fun to have a WP character that’s had a crush on Allie all those years she’s been obsessing over her ex...you know, for pining & angst

any brother connections?? Idk, I’d love WP kids to also be connected to her brother, who was also in the club, so we can probably stem something spicy off of that too. Maybe they were his best friend, or more interestingly, maybe they fucking hated him.

someone from the past. someone at gallagher who knows her prior whether from school, volunteering, etc.she travels a lot and her parents have too, so there’s some flexibility, but maybe someone she knows or used to be close to and they grew apart, but they have the chance to rekindle things now. she probably really wants to.

a close friend. they have been at gallagher for a hot minute now, and I’d love for her to have bonded with a few of the people there. from my understanding, shit’s going to hit the fan, so a few close relationships would be spicy. people at gallagher who were actually really there for her about her brother, probably could relate to losing a loved one, and probably opened up to her. people at gallagher to worry about her safety now. 

hook up? she’s really going through it, and although hookups aren’t typical, ithink it wouldn’t be weird for her to look for a warm body or seek comfort in the first person to smile at her at gallagher...not to mention she’s rooming with her ex and his crush, so a distraction is super welcome. i would also imagine that it’s against the rules for a gallagher student to hook up with a WP kid, so. the drama !

^ on that same vein, maybe a repeated hookup.

a girl to help her realize her sexuality.

someone totally lying to her. a gallagher student practicing their skills and getting to know allie using a totally fake backstory and identity, blatantly lying to her about things. and she’s naively playing into it? and maybe your character is realizing they’re actually fond of her and like hanging out with her, but they’ve lied about legit everything lol.

someone she’s suspicious of. there’s something off about this person, and allie is determined to find out what it is about them that just doesn’t fit.

someone to help her solve her problems by denial. someone who wants to break allie out of her shell and believes that the best way to get over it is to have a good time ! someone to be a bit of a bad influence on her, basically, get her partying, introduce her to some unhealthy coping mechanisms.

someone who recognizes how sad she is? aka someone who’s been in that same position and can really tell she’s faking it every time she says she’s “fine.” this person probably has a sort of fondness for her and keeps reaching out when she pushes away because they know what it’s like. 

[prorevenge]

A Dish Best Served Code

I have a friend who likes to role-play online but doesn't know how to code - for the purpose of this story, I'll call her Blue. Around a week ago, she contacted me saying that she wanted to start up a new site and then handed me this list of jobs that needed to be done without ever asking me to help or whether I had the time to do any of it (note that she knows I'm currently a full time student and I'm right in the middle of my coursework period at the moment).

Right now this is all I can think of off the top of my head. We'll need a new header pic for you to add too but I have to find one first:

Add a skin

Fix add acount feature

Add/set up Discord

Add Ratios

Fix member groups and add emoticons

Add Quick Links

Add Custom Field Content to profiles

Figure out how to put those sub forum boxes in there

For those of you who don't know, this was pretty much building the entire site for her except for the main forums where the roleplaying would take place - I had adamantly refused to do those because I knew how long they would take.

So, I thought this was a little presumptuous of her to think that I just had the time to drop everything and do whatever she needed but, hey, we'd known each other for something like three years and I used to role-play with her, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to help her out just a bit. Besides, all the jobs on that list were very easy things that I could do in about ten minutes each at most.

Unfortunately, Blue decided to recruit a group of other people who I'd never met before to help her out. Where she and I were listed as site owners, the rest of them were listed as general admins, with two of them being moderators. No biggie: they can stick to their jobs and I can do mine. Didn't happen. These girls were horrible. I have no idea where she'd found them or what their relationship was but they stormed in like they owned the place, throwing their opinions about and editing bits of the site coding that I'd been working on in ways that, ultimately, totally messed everything up. I asked them to stop, they kept doing it. This went on for a while.

I'll be the first to admit that I have a short temper. But I put up with this for a couple of days and just tried to make general requests that they stop undoing my work. These were jobs that should have taken me just under an hour and a half to finish and yet was taking days because they continued to change things. I was messaging Blue separately and asking her to tell them to stop because she was supposed to be head of the staff team. She didn't do anything and, eventually, things started to get heated between myself and these four girls.

I would have thought Blue would side with me. I was wrong.

Instead, she basically told me to stop picking fights with them and to shut up and do my job. She then made two of the other girls moderators on Discord and gave them the highest permissions, something which they later used to continuously remove me from my staff position and making my job infinitely harder. I was starting to feel constantly targeted and it was seeping into the work I actually had to do for university. I ended up staying up all night three nights in a row, trapped in endless arguments with those other staff members and Blue herself. I was exhausted and stressed out, and my intention was to finish the jobs and then leave them alone. I probably should have left earlier on but given the history I had with Blue, I thought I might as well be nice enough to do this for her because I knew she was excited for her role-play.

The final straw came over the stupidest thing. She forgot to close a <u> tag somewhere. I fixed it, I reminded everyone to make sure to close their tags. Simple stuff, right? I would have thought people who were allegedly helping to build a site would know how to handle such basic things. I was suddenly bombarded by DMs from Blue telling me that she hadn't done anything wrong and if there was an error then to "fucking show me how it's supposed to go". I tried to explain, repeatedly, what the issue was and how to fix it and, in return, she began to argue that she wasn't doing anything wrong, despite there being obvious coding issues. Things got heated. I cracked. I was done.

https://i.imgur.com/Rb4DQ3X.png

https://i.imgur.com/QGtr3zq.png

After I'd tendered my resignation from ever helping her out again, she hadn't yet figured to remove my staff permissions on the site or on the Discord server so, while she was otherwise preoccupied flailing over suddenly being blocked and not knowing how to code anything else, I quietly went into the code I'd set up for her and removed one ; and one } and all the comments in that code which might have helped them figure out how to solve any future problems. (Lucky for me the control panel didn't update to changes in the site's css).

Then I sat back and watched the panic in their staff Discord when parts of their site stopped looking all pretty and started looking like this:

https://i.imgur.com/65wBT3T.png

https://i.imgur.com/VBYcLue.png

They removed me from the Discord a short while after that and ip banned me from the site (because I guess they don't know I can just use a proxy). But I'm enjoying watching them panic as they try to figure out what I did. Jokes on them for having a guest-accessible Discord server right on the main page of their site.

Moral of the story, I guess, is don't mess with the only person on your site who knows how to code anything.

​

TL;DR: An Illiterate Pineapple asks me to help her code her site; treats me like shit; gets her code fucked with.

(source) story by (/u/aalyoshka)

[anonymous-cy-666]

Holy fuck, I’m in love!

This is something small that I did for my friend on our discord server. It’s inspired by a prompt and also by how we came to meet, a while back. It can be read as platonic or romantic LAMP! I hope you like it! Small disclaimer, there are some swear words in this so if this isn’t your thing... you won’t like most of what I write.

--------------------------------------------- For Virgil Dharke, it had all started a couple of months ago. He had been hanging out on Tumblr on a sleepless night, as he usually did when his roommates were in the apartment, and he didn’t want to bother them by turning on the TV in the living room when he had stumbled onto an ask blog. 

Ask blogs weren’t usually his things. He didn’t want to try to find questions that would further the plot without putting the author in a bad spot or risk sending boring questions that would only be answered out of pity. But, he liked the drawing of this particular author, so he decided to read what was currently out and forget about it after that. After all, it was only two AM and, he didn’t have anything to do the day after. He had checked at least 10 times earlier to be sure that he absolutely didn’t have anything to do tomorrow. And, in a couple of hours, he had read everything that the blog had to offer him.

But instead of closing the blog and going back to Youtube to see if anything new had come out since he had last stalked his favourite Youtubers, he got out his graphic tablet and started drawing one of the side characters that had been presented on the ask blog. His hand was itching with a familiar sensation. As soon as he had started being engaged within the plot, he hadn’t been able to help himself but wonder how he would personally draw certain characters. How he could think of other clothes that would fit them or how he could put them in other situations. He didn’t stop until he was sure it was perfect. Then, he went on his own account and published the picture, too tired to overthink it and fell back into his bed. The next day, when he woke up and immediately grabbed his phone, he was greeted by a notification. The author of the Tumblr blog had reblogged his picture and suddenly, he was bombarded by comments and notes. He, of course, immediately went over to Janus’ room to panic. Since then, he had become a known figure on the ask blog. Whenever there was an update, people knew that Virgil or, as he was known then, PanicAtTheAnxiety would soon be posting something too. This was something that Virgil had grown comfortable with. After all, if he fucked up monumentally, he only had to disappear from the internet in a couple of weeks, no one would remember him because anyway, he wasn’t that important after all. But then, the author had decided to create a Discord server for anyone who wanted to discuss the universe with other people and the author themselves! 

This, this had again, made Virgil race to Janus’ room. Of course, he wanted to talk about some of his favourite character with people other than Janus who was always critiquing the intelligence of some of the main character and Remus who always turned everything into a possible gory or horny scenario. But, what if people didn’t like him? What if they thought that he was boring? What if they saw the way that he typed when he wasn’t trying to be professional and, they didn’t want to talk to him anymore? What if they mocked him? What if it was all just a joke to make fun of him and there wasn’t even a discord server in the first place? Seeing the man going down in a spiral of anxiety, Janus just took the phone from his hands and made him join the server. That way, he would have no other choice than at least say hi to everyone before panicking again. Which he did and immediately got overwhelmed by comments on his fan art. Soon, Virgil had grown comfortable with the discord server. After getting to know them, he could now, almost, confidently say that most of the people within it weren’t so bad. He would even dare to say that he was considering some of them his friends. Now, instead of spending sleepless nights, scrolling through Tumblr, he would spend them talking with the people within the server. Well, mostly three people within it. First of them was Patton. He had been quickly nicknamed the dad of the server. He was always there to remind everyone to eat, sleep and drink enough water during their day. He also seemed to be easily offended at the use of ‘’potty language’’, so Virgil did his best to not swear too much when he knew that the man was connected. Talking to him was always like snuggling up a blanket. 

Second of them was Logan. When he wasn’t busy question the logic of the characters actions, he was always there to debate with Virgil about whatever subject he pleased. For Logan, the problem with the existence with Mothman wasn’t the fact that almost no one had ever seen him, but that he couldn’t understand how the DNA of a moth and a human could merge together to form a living breathing being. Talking to him was always a breath of fresh air. 

Third of them was Roman. He… He had been hard to get along with at the start. Even if they had similar passions, they never seemed to see eye to eye on anything. They were always arguing in the server, only stopping because they didn’t want to hurt their friends. Well, this had been until Virgil had discovered that Remus was Roman’s twin brother. Then, they had seen eye to eye on at least one thing; that Remus could be a such a pain sometimes. After that, their arguing match had somehow turned into friendly debating where they could say to one another if the other had gone too far. Talking to him was always like walking on embers without getting burned. 

So, when it had all gone downhill, he should have known that it would have been because of Remus. 

Virgil’s first mistake was that he had been sitting in the living room of his, Janus’ and Remus’ apartment with his wireless headphones on. 

His second mistake was that he had been listening to his music with the volume a little too high up, so he couldn’t hear Remus returning from his nightly shift at the small venue that he worked at. His third mistake was that he was grinning like an idiot while texting Roman, Logan and Patton. Well, Roman, Logan and Patton were talking in the vocal chat and, they were texting him at the same time. That had, on more than one occasion, told him that he was free to join them if he wanted to, but he had refused. He… didn’t want to break what they had established with each other. So, he had been texting them when a hand had suddenly grabbed his phone. He blinked and jerked his head up, squinting at Remus who was looking at him with a mischievous smile on his lips. He had barely time to notice that the music had stopped playing in his ears when a calm voice reached his ears: ‘’....Virgil?’’ The anxious man immediately squawked and jumped on Remus to try to reach his phone again. Remus, being the tallest out of the two of them, kept his phone out of reach while starting to laugh pretty loudly. The same voice that had spoken directly into his ears a couple of seconds ago spoke again, still in that calmed manner: ‘’Ah, it seems that Remus has decided to steal Virgil’s phone. Perhaps he hasn’t noticed that the vocal chat option has been turned on.’’ This comment only caused Virgil’s determination to grow bigger and bigger while another voice responded in a worried manner: ‘’Oh no, that’s terrible! I don’t want to hear my dark son’s voice if he doesn’t want us to hear it? Do you think we should leave the chat?’’ ‘’Don’t worry, padre! I’ll call Remus to tell him to knock it off!’’ Trying to not concentrate too much on guessing whose voice belonged to who, Virgil finally managed to grab his phone and ran off into his room. He knew Remus wouldn’t follow him there. They had established that no one could enter someone else’s room without being specifically told that they could at this exact moment and this was one of the rare rules that Remus wouldn’t break by respect for his other two roommates. Once safe, he sat on his bed and bit his lips. He could close the voice chat and confirm in the chat what had happened, or… He muted his microphone, still leaving his headphones working perfectly, before typing in the conversation: ‘’Sorry guys, Remus was being a dick again’’

A shocked gasp that clearly came from Patton resonated in his headphones. ‘’Virgil! You shouldn’t text such things!’’ ‘’Sorry, popstar, forgot’’

There was, again a small silence, before the same calm voice that spoke first was heard again: ‘’Are you sure that you want to stay in the Voice call? Not that I want to imply that I don’t want you here, because I do enjoy your company, but you seemed certain of your decision to not hearing us talk.’’

This was definitely Logan. There was a certain drawl to his voice that Virgil immediately associated with the way that Logan texted. Finally, the last voice spoke up in a loud manner that seemed to be a family thing with the Princes:

‘’Yeah, emo! I thought you were too scared to hear our voices and fall head over heels for us!’’ Virgil snorted a bit. ‘’I changed my mind.

Plus, y’all have really nice voices

Except Roman, who’s surprised?’’

There were some giggles and an immediate undignified squawk from Roman and suddenly, everything was back to normal. Except, maybe, for the fact that Virgil had now beautiful voices in his mind of each of his precious friend. It stayed like that for weeks. Virgil would come on the Voice chat, but would only respond by typing. Sure, sometimes, it could be inconvenient, but he didn’t want to speak out loud. After all, he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure if they would understand the way that he pronounced his vowels. Or how his th sometimes sounded like s or t. They all seemed to like him so much. He couldn’t ruin that by talking like an idiot.

He was sure that he had a pretty strong resolve, but slowly, small comments by small comments, his determination to stay quiet seemed to falter. Even if they didn’t seem to do that intentionally, but they would sometimes make comment about how they imagined what his voice sounded like from the very short sounds that they had heard him let out when Remus would sneak up on him, himself being in the voice chat to let them hear his voice. Patton had even once told him in private messages that if it was that he was uncomfortable because he didn’t want other people that he didn’t know that much to pop up while he was talking, they could always another server to help him feel safe. And after all that, and a lot of night rambling about it to Janus, he decided to talk in the VC. It wouldn’t kill him, right?

It was a pretty quiet night when he finally decided to put his plan in action. There weren’t a lot of people active on the server that night and Logan, Roman and Patton seemed to be the only one that were talking about something else than the blog, so no one would interrupt them. He took a bight breath, before pressing send on the message that had been waiting on his screen for about 30 minutes. ‘’I have made a decision guys. I’m gonna unmute tonight.’’

The few seconds before Roman finished saying what he was saying and, they went up to read what he had sent them felt like hours, but the excited squeals that Patton made after reading it suddenly made it feel like it was worth it. ‘’Are you sure, kiddo? We wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything that you don’t want.’’ ‘’Yeah, I’m sure’’ ‘’Well then…’’ There were a few seconds of silence before Patton, soon joined by Roman, started chanting: ‘’Unmute! Unmute! Unmute! Unmute!’’ ‘’Could you stop chanting this ridiculous thing? This is clearly stressful for Virgil, we wouldn’t want to put any more pressure on him.’’ The voices all went deadly silent as Virgil pressed a trembling finger on his screen to unmute his microphone. He bit his lips, not knowing what to say, after all those months of pure silence. ‘’Virgil, it is okay if you do not wish to speak. I understand that you are uncomfortable with that idea and if you wish for more time, we will gladly give it to you.’’ Virgil took a big breath before saying in a quiet voice: ‘’No, it’s okay.’’ There was a moment of quiet before a loud thump resonated from one of the boys’ microphone and, they heard Roman screaming, away from his mic but still very clearly: ‘’Holy fuck, I’m in love!’’ Patton laughed a bit. ‘’I wouldn’t have said it like this, kiddo, but I agree with you! You have such a pretty voice, Virgil!!’’ ‘’Ah yes, it is indeed, quite pleasing to hear your voice… Will you do us the honour of letting us hear it again?’’ And, it was with a face burning from embarrassment and a heart getting slowly bigger and bigger with joy and a feeling that he didn’t quite understand yet, that Virgil slowly created himself a new normal. 

[dalethesnail-blog-blog]

I finally DMed for my Best Friend and his Wife. An open letter to under confident aspiring DMs

So I started D&D 7 years ago with my best friend, his wife, and his mother as our DM(she had serious DM mojo back in the day so her son convinced her to play with us, his wife did DM a session one night for shits and giggles). His Wife and I were new to the idea of d&d, I remember my only relationship to it was I knew a couple inside jokes from a few people I went to school with but I had no desire to try it until my best friend found out I hadn’t even tried it before.

We played 3.5 that first campaign, and I loved it. Freed a town from a tyrant, slated a wyvern and uncovered the secret backstory of one of our party members.

Eventually his life saw him headed to the east coast, and I, living on the west coast, was left to dream of playing another campaign with them someday or even continuing the one we already had(Azoth Drake my gestalt Knight/Fighter is immortalized in character sheet pdf form on my pc to this day). I can’t tell you how many ideas I had for settings and characters, how many homebrews I made with hopes I would show it off to my first d&d group one day.

One day we three reconnect and start playing a PS4 game online together, him, his wife and I that is. We decide next time we get a chance we will play a new 5e campaign(since I learned 5e and studied the books thanks to other d&d groups I recently played with in the past 2 years preferring those rules to 3.5 or pathfinder).

I get the news they are coming for New Years around September. I have months to work on things and I’m worried I will either overprepare and railroad them, or I’ll underprepare and it will be All Sunny in the Forgotten Realms(but in a bad way). Also CR, the hardest thing to do is make a fair CR for a party that is just two adventurers. We decided to do it gestalt(like our first campaign, just take two classes and get features from both each level, sounds complicated, really easy and it makes the player a bit overconfident despite still having a normal amount of health for their level and just one turn in combat) that way they can fit two roles of the party instead of having to play two characters or having me play a healbot for them. And my best friend loves the idea of making it a “Witcher” type campaign with bounties on monsters and a political plot in the overtones.

With New Years looming we tidy up the final loose ends as far as what we need to know about the world and the characters and I get the opportunity to write in a few new things for precise flavor. I even made a failsafe that I’m glad I had prepared in case of premature player character death(My interpretation of Terry Pratchett’s Death will meet them on the road to the afterlife and check one of many pocket watches, the particular one designed so that it reminds the character of themselves, he’ll then tell them their deity would be angry if he let them pass on before their time and direct them away from the light).

I got more than I bargained for for certain. They followed the first clues I gave them and solved the problems I posed in ways I didn’t expect, so I had to ad lib most of the first contract they had. At the end of it his wife’s character lobbed a rock at the fleeing commoner NPC that was the key to complete the quest, being capable of killing it with 1+ her strength mod damage. Still they came up with a way to make it work reasonably and I let them get paid.

The first night they roleplayed staying at a tavern inn. My best friend’s character off put by his traveling partner’s homicidal tendencies decided to sleep alone. His wife’s character stayed up all night partying and we rolled on the carousing table for the result. She apparently gambled and won a lot of money and became a local legend. We had a lot of fun roleplaying after that.

On the way out of town I rolled on a table for an encounter, 1d4 Goblins, and I rolled 1. 1 goblin, oh well,that’s all I would have them encounter then. I created a lovable scamp goblin who considers the roadside to be his personal kingdom, and I named him after the Tomb of Annihilation’s Queen Grabstab. They didn’t kill him despite his annoying posturing, in fact when he asked for a toll my best friend’s wife decided to toss him a gold peice, but more about him later.

The next contract I made too difficult, admittedly on purpose(not every story has to be a happy ending), they could certainly solve the mystery but getting the full amount involved saving children from an entire Night Hag coven that had already eaten them. They faced only one Night Hag and after a long battle the Night Hag retreated leaving the child they followed into the foggy marshes behind. Even then I had the payment come in the form of an IOU from that one child’s parents who weren’t able to scrounge more than a few copper at the time. They settled for a larger sum later. I plan on paying them more money the longer they give the family to earn it(and I want them to forget about it if possible so I can surprise them later with enough gold to get their characters something nice like 1d4x10 for every week they give them).

Then it happened, I underestimated 4 cultists and 3 cult fanatics. That battle was more brutal than the single Night Hag I had thrown at them before. The strategy could have used some work admittedly, they had ranged attack options they forgot about that could have been effective rather than getting overwhelmed by 7 weaklings. Also his wife didn’t move from the center of the dogpile, despite me giving her hints that she was the most logical person to attack for four out of seven enemies so long as she remained there, meaning she was taking a lot of damage every round, I was trying to convey the message without metagaming but she was confident that she could survive. Just before the end of combat her character died, a tense moment for me as I’ve never had a character die in one of my campaigns and her husband’s character managed to barely survive the final 2 enemies left after her death. He had 10 health and a new cart to carry his dead companion back to town with.

I continued the session by using my one time resurrection failsafe, I’m glad I thought ahead but I felt I had to really exaggerate that I prepared the way I would give them a chance to come back once they first died, honestly a party of two is easy to overwhelm. Hey, even all knowing gods can fuck up and install a reset button, even great DMs aren’t perfect? I don’t like fudging rolls so I had to think of a clever way to make it seem like Death itself(Kelemvor, if you will) was giving them mulligans.

Then we partied in the tavern again and her character once again made slightly less than a mountain of gold by gambling and my best friend’s character broke even. They found a royal missive asking for experienced adventurers to join an expedition to an island to investigate some strange goings on. They decide to head to a new location to hop on a boat headed for the island. On the way out of town they ran into Grabstab and allowed him to join them for the next part of the adventure.

They fought an ambush of giant wasps. Grabstab even delivered the killing blow to one of them. The fight was mostly interesting because it was on horseback while pulling a cart and the wasps could just barely close distance at full speed, it made for an action packed fight. The players even tried to get away at first, and their speed turned out to be the thing that saved them.

That was the session. I established a homebrewed world, had them hunt monsters that were in their own right the mystery to solve, I killed a PC, brought a PC back because of divine intervention(death is my employee and does what I want), and I gave them a companion character with a wacky personality.

We plan on continuing in discord, maybe in a month or two. I feel like I impressed them though, I could tell they were enjoying their time in my world.

In hindsight; convincing them to have a companion character would have been better to do sooner, I could have used it to save a character from death before having to blow a secret deus ex machina. Also, the cultists were searching for them in the background right after they entered the first town, I could have warned them that they were being hunted, it may have derailed things but at least the ambush would have been better justified. The Night Hag was a good fight, and the bleakness of the result of that quest could have been fixed, I’m thinking about having the Night Hag’s sisters strike back at some point and somehow they save more children than just the one. And I should be clear that a commoner has 4hp and a rock to the head can kill them.

If you’re ever interested in DMing I suggest you put yourself into it with the best intentions. Players will end up doing things you don’t expect, like holding their ground and fighting to their death, if you think you’re putting them in too much danger find a way to save them before they are dead, not after, I’m fine with the way I fixed it because it’s what I wanted to do eventually but I wanted to hold onto it for after a bigger fight than where I used it.

This experience was supposed to be my masterpiece but it really taught me that I have a long way to go before I’m we’re I want to be as a DM. But all the same, I appreciate my DMs more than ever. And if you are worried you might not be ready my advice is to try it out and be surprised. I wasn’t a failure, but I gotta work on this campaign for next time I run it, I know I can’t get it just right, and my players still seem invested. I can say that I’ve gotten pretty good at eyeballing the challenge rating of a fight at least. I could have killed both of them if I decided to put more than one Hag in the second quest and they reasonably could have beaten the cultists but one of them being overwhelmed without knowing it is something I didn’t see coming.

[intheyear39]

Rainy Days and Wednesdays (Gwilym Lee x Reader)

Genre: Romance / Fluff

Rating: PG-13 for swearing

Length: 2637 words

Summary: Gwilym takes you for a drive.

Author’s Note: This was harder to write than Fleece Blanket for some reason despite having a clear prompt in mind—I’ll get to that in a sec—but thanks to the moral and creative support of my Discord, I was able to get over my first writer’s block since I started writing again (like, three weeks ago).

Shameless promotion but the prompt is from a Japanese song by a group called V6, 「意味のないドライブ」imi no nai doraibu lit. translation, “Meaningless Drive”. If you want to listen to it and/or read the unofficial translation, you can find it here. ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy it and I’d love to know your thoughts! <3

Special thanks to Ella @39-volunteers-to-space for making a moodboard for this huhu you didn’t have to and it’s already a great pleasure to proofread Kairos (GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T BTW) ILY <3

Taglist: @39-volunteers-to-space @moonvinyls @grooveei @theoddowldoodle @bburellina @im-happy-at-home @dorkydeaky @seven-seas-0f-bri and one of my bestest friends Sera who knows both the song and Gwilym (and WHO HASN’T USED HER TUMBLR YET BUT TAGGING HER ANYWAY) @a--kind--of--magic​

—

“I’ll pick you up at six, yeah?”

You read Gwilym’s message to you over and over. He didn’t always pick you up from work, but when he did, you were always excited to see him. That’s no surprise of course—the two of you had been dating for a while now—but for some reason, it just always felt new.

At this point, you were just waiting for time to pass. He had texted over an hour ago, but all you had done was look at that message and not work. Not that your boss minded; he wasn’t here today anyway.

Yet you were still having a terrible day, and you couldn’t tell anyone about it because, you sighed, you didn’t know why.

And that’s the worst because how would you cure that?

How would you make that go away?

It’s just one of those days, a gloomy Wednesday, and so you were more than delighted that Gwilym would pick you up tonight.

Your phone buzzed one more time. Another message. 

“You okay?”

It’s as if Gwilym was reading your mind at that exact moment.

You took a long second to reply, mainly because you didn’t know what to type, so your mobile buzzed again, this time continuously. He was phoning you.

“Uh, hello?” you quietly answered so that no one else in the office would hear.

“You okay, love?” his voice sounded worried, but also rather sexy. It distracted you for a second.

“Y-yeah, I’m good.”

You didn’t know why you lied, because he could always tell when you did.

“Well, you don’t sound like it to me,” he said matter-of-factly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-I...” you started, but words just wouldn’t come out. It was hard to explain without sounding foolish.

You heard him sigh at the end of the other line. “You don’t need to worry about anything,” he said finally. “Also, I’m pulling in at the car park now.”

You let out a tiny squeal, which made him laugh—and you always wanted to make him laugh—and hastily grabbed your things, pulled out your thumb drive from your office computer without safely removing it (you knew you’d regret doing that later but who gives a shit, Gwil’s here), and dashed through the halls yelling, “See you all later!” to no one in particular as you exited your office building, dashing like mad.

At the car park, you suddenly realised that it was raining. Being confined in those tight, monochromatic spaces didn’t let you see much of the outside for most of the day. Despite that, you forgot how that made you usually feel because, standing outside the car, leaning against it, waiting for you, in his dark brown jumper with his glasses on, was Gwilym. He looked delighted to see you. You didn’t hesitate to run towards him and embrace him. He just felt so warm and nice and stable.

“Hey, bad day at work?” He asked in his signature dulcet tone, touching your hair gently, playing with it almost.

“Bad day in general,” you muttered as you instinctively bury your head in his chest. He held you closer for a few seconds in silence. You were beginning to feel better about things.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” he whispered unto your forehead, his lips touching it ever so subtly.

You groaned, slightly muffled by your head being on his chest.

“But I like it here.”

He chuckled. “I know you fancy this, but we have to leave at some point. Parking rates are expensive. Come on now.”

You decided to pull away finally. “You’re wrong, you know,” you said, and you saw his eyebrows raise in faint surprise. You placed your index finger on his chest. “I love it there.”

He gave you a kiss on the lips because, at least based on his reactions in previous situations, it was a quick way to shut you up and at the same time, he would usually find you too cute not to do it (his words).

You two finally entered the car. He started the car and drove out of the car park; the rain seemed to only become stronger, and while you thought it was peak cuddling ambiance, it also made you feel a little somber. Even though you loved the rain, sometimes the darkness reminded you of your own, and you didn’t like that. Nobody liked knowing their own darkness. You continued to muse for about five minutes more, but then, you heard him mutter ‘Damn’ to himself, taking you out of your wretched thoughts.

“What is it?” You calmly asked.

“I think I forgot my car charger at home,” he said, also trying to be calm. “Do you have a phone charger with you by any chance?”

You also left your power bank at your office in your haste, as you discovered while rummaging through your handbag. “Erm, I’m sorry babe, I left it at work.”

He clicked his tongue, “That’s all right.” He seemed in deep thought.

“Was there anything important in your phone?”

“Well, your new address, for instance.”

Right. You recently moved into a new flat two days ago, and this was actually the first time Gwil would take you there from your office. The both of you hadn’t completely memorised the route yet.

“That’s okay,” you brought out your own phone. “We can use my—“

He looked at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Shit.”

“You’re joking, right?”

As if on cue, your phone drained its power as you checked it. You were hoping to rely on your power bank too, but that option was obviously moot now. You were hitting yourself on the head mentally; after all, you didn’t even hang up after that call with Gwil.

“No, sadly,” you answer rather hesitantly with the softest voice you could. “Sorry.”

He sighed and let out a small chuckle. “Don’t apologise. These things happen. Tell you what, it’s not that I don’t remember where your residence is—I do, mostly—but why don’t we just take this time to drive around the city for a while? No phones mean,” he waited a beat, “no distractions.”

He had the naughtiest smile on his face which you rarely saw, but when you did, you felt like you were falling in love with the man all over again. This time was no different.

“So, is that a yes, or...?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I get to spend more time with my fucking boyfriend? Fuck yeah I want to!”

He laughed, a little more loudly this time. “Let’s take a drive then. I reckon you need it.”

He reached out with his right hand and held your left hand. His touch was tender but firm, warm enough to send shivers down your spine. You then snuggled up to him, placing your head on his shoulder, your eyes closing. Now, with the rain, gloomy or not, this was definitely peak cuddling ambiance.

“You’re really loving this,” he said rather cheekily.

“Shut up and drive,” was your retort and he laughed again.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded in a cheerful tone.

You enjoyed the blissful silence that came after. Gwil seemed to enjoy it too, and sometimes, silence between you two was a comforting thing; no words needed. After a few more moments, you opened your eyes again. You went out of the city, it seemed like—cars and tall buildings were replaced by grasslands and cattle. It was getting darker, the city lights getting fewer. Where was he going to take you?

“Are you awake?” He took a quick glance down to you.

“Hmm, yeah. Where are we?”

“We’re not far off from where your flat is,” he said, as if trying to assure you. He probably heard the sudden panic in your voice. “About fifteen minutes? We’ll be back just in time.”

“No...” was your immediate response. You didn’t want this to end, because it meant that you would have to go home—it meant you had the rest of the week to face, two more fucking days, and you abhorred that feeling of absolute dread more than anything else right now.

“Oh, but you have work tomorrow, we both do.”

You groaned a little more loudly than intended, “I know, but…I don’t want to hear the truth right now. I only want to hear the good things.”

You didn’t want to get angry, not right now, especially not at him. He’s the only one you have.

“Right, I apologise.”

This time, an odd silence ensued. You both could feel it, but you thought it was better to let it go. You did say you only wanted to hear good things today.

“Erm,” he broke the silence, a bit hesitant, “you know what, you never told me what your favourite colour was.”

“What?” you were surprised to hear that question at this moment. Although, it was true—you had never told him what your favourite colour was, because, you never thought he would be interested in things like that. Gwilym was more of a conceptual thinker, an introspective kind of guy, so anything of this sort was too trivial to him. Honestly, it was cute that he’s bringing it up now. He’s trying.

“Uh, blue, I think,” you lifted your head to meet his gaze. Like his eyes. “Like your eyes.”

He blushed, but attempted to cover it up by saying, “You’re only saying that because you’re grateful that I’m spending my petrol on you.”

You giggled, “That is the least sexy thing you’ve ever said tonight.”

“Hey, you laughed! That’s my girl!”

And that’s when you realised: He was trying to take your mind off of things, distract you. He knew you were having a bad day, and he knew you didn’t want to talk about it. If you were honest, you wouldn’t know what to talk about with yourself either. He’s trying. You thought it’s the cutest thing. 

And most importantly, this reminded you that he’s there to take care of you when you needed him most. Always.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you gave him a smirk.

He chuckled, “Well, it worked, didn’t it? Besides, I do enjoy spending time with you. It doesn’t matter what we are doing. I don’t care if it’s stupid or pointless, as long as we’re both having fun, yeah?”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” you nodded and laid your head back on his shoulder.

“Oh, you know I’m right.” You laughed. He then squeezed your hand before kissing it, smiling as he did so. 

You closed your eyes again. You hadn’t noticed all this time, but there had been music playing on the radio; it was turned down, but not all the way. You’d really love some music right now.

“Gwil, could you turn the volume up on the radio?”

“Of course.”

The radio DJ began, “Next up, a song from the hit movie Music and Lyrics, ‘Pop! Goes My Heart’ by Hugh Grant.”

“What in the fuck,” Gwilym was appalled, clearly, and you never usually heard him swear that aggressively.

It made you smile.

And of course, he noticed. “What’s that smile for?”

“Nothing—it’s a cute song. It’s fun!” Then, it reminded you of something that had been on your mind for a while now. “You know, you should do romcoms more.”

“What?” he was more confused than angry. “I’m bad at those.”

“No, you’re not.” you bit your lip—you wanted to say he was great at romance based on your experience, but you knew he would say that it’s different, that because it’s you. The song was fun anyway, so you decided to focus on that. 

“I can imagine you dressed up as a pop star in the 80’s, wearing a white studded polo, a black scarf that can engulf you whole, studded bracelets, that checkered belt around white trousers! I mean, you pulled off Brian May’s hair; I’m pretty sure you can pull off a mullet.” You put your tongue out just to annoy him.

He scoffed, but he was smirking. “No more costumes and wigs for me for the moment, thanks.”

“But you would be so cute though!” your voice went a pitch higher as you lifted your head up to face him. “You playing the piano, singing, dancing—!"

“You like my little hip shakes, huh,” he demonstrated (but still focused on his driving). “I said I wasn’t gonna lose my head, but then, pop! goes my heart~”

“Careful with that—you’re driving! You’re mental!”

Though, you had to admit, he looked good doing it. He sounded good, too. He’s perfect.

He laughed, “Perhaps you’re right. If they decide to do a remake of Music and Lyrics in another 10 years, maybe I’ll say yes. I’ll probably be Hugh Grant’s age when he did it.”

“I’d watch a remake now, to be honest,” you linked your arm with his one more time and held it really closely. You looked ahead to watch the road; you noticed he was driving back into the city again. Your heart sank—the reality started to set in again, that you had to go back to your regular life, to the routine. You wished this could last forever. If only.

“You’re living that romcom now though, don’t you agree?” he whispered, breaking your train of thought. Without warning too, so it gave you goosebumps. The good kind.

“Not if it has to end soon,” you sighed. You were completely aware that this fun little ride had to end at some point. You knew you would face the reality of life again, that you’re not always going to be happy. But then, you also realised: You had Gwil. And that’s enough.

He made a melancholic face too. “You know what love, I’ll promise you something if you promise me that you’ll stop gloating about it. Deal?”

You hummed an answer. You were sceptical, but oddly excited about it.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up from work every day from now—"

You screamed in glee. He covered his left ear almost immediately.

“I wasn’t done yet, love!” he had to exclaim over your excitement.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up from work every day from now on, unless I have work or I’m out of town or for some reason I can’t make it to you in time. Okay? That’s a promise.”

Just in time, he parked the car outside your building. The heavy rain seemed to have turned into just a drizzle—enough not to need an umbrella—and it’s like a metaphor for your mood tonight. Before seeing Gwil, it had been sour, somber, melancholic, but now, it had become more optimistic, kind, merry. His promise was just cherry on top.

Sure, it wasn’t anything significant, but it made you excited, for the first time in a long while. That was rare.

Grateful, your eyes were twinkling. “You fucking promise?”

“I fucking promise,” his were too.

You reached out for an embrace, and he held you so tightly that you almost couldn’t breathe. It was still a good feeling. As he let go, he held your face delicately with his warm hands, his elongated fingers almost covering the sides of your face. He kissed you tenderly, and your noses touched afterwards, feeling the breath of each other in this cold, damp winter night.

“I love you,” he said, almost shyly.

“I love you too,” you said back, “and thank you for spending your petrol on me in this pointless fucking trip.”

He cracked up, “Good callback.”

“I do my best,” you bragged, shrugging.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah of course!” you answered as you opened the car door and got out. “And Gwil?”

“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow I’ll drive. I know where we can take a detour.”

END.

A/N: A sequel may be possible? IDK. Let me know if you want one.

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: 14/16

The dance in this chapter was inspired by THIS dance by Magda and Robert on So You Think You Can Dance. I have to thank everyone in the CSBB again for the Discord chat as I struggled to decide on a song for Emma and Killian’s final routine. @distant-rose is the one who suggested “Secret Love,” and if you watch that Youtube video above muted with that song playing, it’s perfect. @wellhellotragic suggested the song “Stole the Show,” which I also ended up using. Thanks to both of you!

Ro’s song suggestions are only one example of what a fantastic beta she was, truly going above and beyond. @optomisticgirl made that banner you’ve seen every week as well as chapter art, including the one for this week that captures Emma and Killian’s samba so well. Please go give her some love!

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Chapter Art by @optomisticgirl girl: Four| Five| Six| Seven| Nine| Eleven| Twelve| Thirteen|

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @thislassishooked @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules @let-it-raines

Chapter Fourteen: Secret Love

The next day, Emma saw Killian’s gray hoodie and baseball cap again when he picked her up before rehearsals. They had to enter the studio together anyway so the cameras could record their reaction. One of the judges would be their mentor, choreographing their routine and giving them pointers. They wouldn’t find out who it was until they arrived at the studio. Killian pointed out that if they didn’t ride together, one of them would just have to stand around in the lobby or the hallway waiting for the other one. It made practical sense, so she agreed. After all, friends could give each other rides to work. Right?

Inviting Killian to get their early, however, was all Henry. He had been pestering her to have Killian over again for weeks, and she did promise Henry breakfast every morning until New Year’s, and Killian did need to eat a healthy, protein-filled breakfast in order to dance, and . . . At that point, Emma had cut him off, joking that he really ought to be a lawyer when he grew up.

Killian and Henry got along that morning just as well as they had over pizza and video games all those weeks ago. Killian even helped him with an especially tricky math problem from his homework assignment, one that had baffled Emma the night before. When it was time for the bus to come, Henry fist-bumped Killian before dashing for the door, only remembering at the last moment that he forgot to kiss his mother goodbye.

“Why am I even here?” Emma had joked.

“For the pancakes, of course,” Killian had answered her with a wink.

“And here I thought it was the turkey bacon,” she had quipped back.

Their easy banter continued on the car ride to the studio, and Emma felt lighter than she had since that ridiculous kiss. Maybe this “just friends” thing could work after all.

Now they stood in front of the door to their rehearsal studio, Emma’s hand gripping the doorknob. “You ready to see who our mentor is?” she asked Killian.

His gaze lifted to the ceiling as he crossed himself. “Please let it be Tiana, please, please . . .”

Emma laughed, mostly because she shared the sentiment. Then she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. There, standing in the center of the room, with a huge grin on her face, arms already stretched out for a hug, was Tiana. Emma and Killian didn’t have to fake their enthusiasm for the cameras as they accepted her embrace.

“Okay, you two,” Tiana told them, clasping her manicured hands together under her chin, “I have been a huge fan since that first week. I knew you would make it here. Are you ready to get to work?”

Tiana’s open expression and genuine smile made it easy to share in her enthusiasm. Emma couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Belle and Aurora right now.

“You,” Tiana said, pointing at Killian, “have an advantage over the competition because of your acting ability. You embody the choreography and the story that it’s telling every single time. So the dance I’ve created for the two of you has that story-telling element.”

“What advice do you have, though?” Killian asked, his brow furrowed. “I mean, I definitely want to play up my strengths, but to win, I need to work on my weaknesses too.”

“I agree,” Tiana said, nodding her head with such vigor that a dark curl fell across her forehead, “Belle is probably the most improved of the competition, while you’ve been more consistent. As for Aurora, being a figure skater, she’s always had you beat when it comes to technique. You need to show us that your extensions are better.” She paused and nudged Killian’s hip. “And we’ve got to show that this Brit can shake his booty.”

Emma laughed as Tiana shimmied around him. Killian turned red to the tips of his ears. Tiana high-fived Emma, then turned to the camera.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since week one,” she said, then winked. She turned back to Emma and Killian. “Okay, so let’s get to work. You two have great chemistry, but you’re still holding back. So . . . I’ve choreographed a very steamy rumba.”

Emma gulped as her own face turned red. A rumba? A very steamy rumba?’ Oh shit . . .

*******************************************************

Tiana definitely wasn’t holding anything back with her choreography. The rumba was always sensual, but there was hardly a moment in the dance that Emma and Killian weren’t pressed up against one another. There was a lift where Emma was straddling Killian while facing him and the dismount called for Emma to basically fall across his shoulder. Tiana was constantly asking both of them to bury their fingers in each other’s hair. But the last straw for Emma was the end. The two of them were literally rolling on the ground with one another with Emma at one point straddling Killian. The tangle of their arms and legs was enough to set every nerve ending on fire, but when she had to look down into Killian’s always expressive face as he lay flat on his back beneath her, it all became too much.

“I’m not sure this is appropriate,” she muttered as she scrambled to her feet, “I mean, this is an eight o’clock show. On ABC, not HBO.”

Tiana’s eyes opened wide, and the look she gave Emma as she crossed her arms had Emma squirming. “Excuse me? I thought you were a pro.”

Emma swallowed hard. As nice as Tiana was, Emma couldn’t forget that she was both a judge and a co-producer of the show. Not to mention the clout she had in the dance industry as a choreographer.

“Of course,” she said, pressing her lips together as a blush crept up her face.

Tiana’s expression softened, “Look, Emma, I know what I’m doing. This will be tasteful, I promise.”

Killian, who was still sitting on the floor, was looking nervously between the two women. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he scrambled to his feet. “I don’t want Emma to feel uncomfortable.”

Tiana propped her fist beneath her chin as she narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. “I’ve seen Emma dance plenty of sensual routines. And you, Jones? I’ve seen you do plenty of steamy scenes as an actor. Is there anything I need to know between the two of you? Anything that’s causing . . . tension?”

Emma was intensely aware of the camera crew as she exchanged a glance with Killian. They both spoke at once.

“No, nothing at all.”

“Seriously? No way.”

For half a second, a tiny smile hitched up one corner of Tiana’s lips, but then she schooled her features. “Okay. However, something’s still missing. Let’s keep working.”

Emma pushed aside her discomfort as she took Killian’s hand. They continued working. Tiana was a relentless coach, repeating the word “again” after every run through. She stopped occasionally to correct something with Killian’s technique, but for the most part, she kept shaking her head and saying “again.” Soon, Emma and Killian were soaked with sweat. You would think it would make the intimate lifts and the rolling on the floor disgusting. Instead, the sweatier they both got, the more uncomfortable Emma became. She felt emotionally raw; exposed.

“Stop,” Tiana commanded. Emma and Killian both doubled over, breathless. Tiana just shook her head as she looked at them. “I don’t know what it is, but I just don’t believe this routine. You’re not connecting with one another. Are you even listening to the lyrics?”

The song was “Secret Love” by Little Mix, and it said things like, “Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor?” and “every second, every thought, I’m in so deep, but I’ll never show it on my face.” Of course she was listening to the lyrics; that was part of the problem! Without a word, Emma turned and walked out of the studio, slamming the door behind her. She ignored Tiana’s indignant protests. She was being unprofessional, but right now she couldn’t care less. She fled down the hallway and burst into an empty studio. She took deep breaths as spots danced before her eyes. She lifted trembling hands to run them through her sweat-drenched hair. When Killian’s hands rested gently on her shoulders, she jumped at his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I was just worried about you.”

Emma pressed a hand to her chest as she turned to face him. “I just don’t know what she wants from you. We’re killing ourselves in there, and it’s still not enough.”

Killian rubbed her upper arms gently before pulling her close. “I apologize for how awful I smell,” he murmured against her hair.

She managed a small laugh. “Ugh, I reek too,” she mumbled against his chest.

They stayed that way in silence for a long moment, and when Killian finally spoke again, his voice sounded tentative. “You never let me hold you like this on the dance floor. Have you ever considered . . . that the one not connecting when we dance . . . is you?”

His words were like a punch to the gut. Emma reeled back, shoving him lightly with her palms “What do you mean? I’m the pro! And . . . and . . . I’ve never,” she let out a shaky breath before confessing, “I’ve never connected with anyone when I dance the way I do with you.”

Killian’s eyes were tender as he traced her jaw with his fingertips. “And maybe that’s the problem. What are you holding back? What are you afraid to feel, Emma?”

A tumult of emotions assaulted her as she shoved his hand away. The easiest one to identify was anger. “Don’t pretend you understand me, Jones.”

As she stalked out, Killian whispered a reply. “Perhaps I’d like to.”

**********************************************************

Emma didn’t sleep well at all the night after their first disastrous rehearsal with Tiana, and Henry had actually been the one to wake her up with a bowl of cereal and some fruit (and she tried to not feel guilty – and failed – when he dashed out the door with a couple of pop tarts in his hand). What had she done to deserve such a great kid?

Now she was dashing in late for rehearsals, and her sleepless night had given her no solutions whatsoever. She was still overwhelmed by the emotions Tiana’s choreography evoked, and she had no idea what to do about it. The only thing she did know, and hated to admit, was that Killian was right. The problem was with her.

Emma was so lost in thought as she ran through the door, that she didn’t see Belle at all. The brunette also had her head down, texting on her phone, so the pair of them went stumbling backwards, and Belle went crashing on her rear, her phone flying out of her hand.

“Oh God,” Emma gasped, reaching out a hand to help her up, “I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride,” Belle laughed, “that’s what I get for texting while walking.”

As Belle dusted off her designer skirt, Emma picked up her cell phone. She didn’t mean to invade Belle’s privacy, but she noticed Robert Gold’s name.

“Too bad I’m not in my grubby rehearsal clothes,” Belle continued, frowning at a smudge of dirt on the hem of her skirt. “I was just here to pick up Teach’s music. He wants us to rehearse on the beach, can you believe it? That man is so bizarre. He still uses CDs, too . . . “ she trailed off when she noticed Emma’s expression. Her eyes toggled from Emma’s face to the cell phone clutched in her hand.

“Is Gold bothering you again?” Emma asked her.

Belle blushed as she shoved the phone into her cross-body purse. “I just think we should try to see the best in people, you know? I think there’s a good man in Mr. Gold, deep down.”

Emma frowned at the woman as she crossed her arms. “You’re not developing feelings for him, are you?”

Belle shook her head adamantly. “Oh no, of course not!” a softer expression filled her face as she sighed and said, “I mean, Liam had to go home, but we’re still in touch. We want to keep pursuing what we started.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in concern. “So what’s with Gold and the texting?”

Belle shuffled nervously back and forth, “Like I said, I see a good man in him. And I just thought that if I were kind to him, maybe he wouldn’t have to make threats or . . . I don’t know . . . “

“Let me see the messages,” Emma said, putting out her palm in the way she would with Henry.

Belle’s eyes sparked for a moment in protest, but then she sighed and turned over the phone. “I guess you have a right to know. Since he was banned from the lot.”

Emma shook her head and gave Belle a soft smile. “It isn’t that, really. It’s just . . . I know how these creeps work. You give them a little attention, and they think they own you.”

Belle quirked a brow. “How do you know that?”

Emma ignored her question and began scrolling through the messages.

I saw you talking on the phone as you left rehearsal the other day. Was it that hot head who attacked me? What was his name again?

His name is Liam, and yes we’re still seeing each other.

Long distance? Is it serious?

I don’t know. He makes me smile.

I could make you smile. And I’m right here.

I told you, I only see you as a friend.

But I need you Belle.

Belle?

Don’t ignore me!

Emma stopped reading, her frown deepening. “This sounds creepy, Belle. He’s been watching you!”

“Not necessarily,” Belle argued, “I mean, he may have just been driving by. He lives here, after all, and his offices are in downtown LA.”

Emma stepped closer and laid a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “The restraining order says he’s not supposed to be within two blocks of here, but that’s not the point. These texts sound a lot like some I used to get when . . . well, a long time ago from a guy. Please, Belle, cut this man off. Don’t try to be nice.”

Belle closed out the texts on her phone and gave Emma a tight nod. “Okay. I’ll think about what you said.”

Emma gave her arm a squeeze before she turned to exit the building. Emma hugged her arms to her chest, feeling as if a chill had blown past. The texts brought up memories that she really didn’t need right now. She felt defeated already as she made her way up the stairs.

Emma was afraid that she would get a mouthful from Tiana when she came in late, but the judge was laughing with Killian, tossing her thick dark curls over one shoulder. The pair of them turned, eyes lit up with pleasure to see her.

“Emma!” Tiana greeted, giving her a small hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were narrowed with concern as she scrutinized her face. “I was really worried I had pushed too hard yesterday. Is everything okay?”

“Aye Swan,” Killian added as he came close, putting an arm around her shoulder, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Emma couldn’t hold back the shudder that passed through her even as she shook her head. “I’m fine, really, just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

Emma could tell Killian wasn’t buying it by the slight arch of his brow, but then his trademark smile filled his face. “Well, love, I’ve been talking to Tiana, and I think our problem is that we don’t know the characters we’re playing.”

“Characters?” Emma asked as she stepped away from the pair to deposit her dance bag against the wall.

“Yes,” Tiana said, “Killian was explaining how both of you usually create a character to slip into. He thinks that’s why the Neverland dance didn’t have the right connection because you felt it was Rose’s character, not yours.”

“And I remembered that Tiana said she had created a story with our rumba,” Killian continued.

Tiana laughed, “And I didn’t even realize that I never told you what the story was.”

“Okay,” Emma said, liking where this was going. She caught Killian’s eye, and he gave her a nod and a wink. He was trying to make this easier for her, and though she wanted to be irritated over it, she was honestly relieved. “So what’s the story?”

Tiana rubbed her hands together, eager. “You’re a dancer, Emma, and Killian is a pop star. Or, the other way around, it doesn’t really matter. The point is, you have to keep your relationship professional, yet there’s all this sexual tension, and you just wish you could admit what’s there.”

Emma rubbed at her throat, catching Killian’s eye again, this time he tilted his head ever so slightly. The man was as just too damn expressive. It was scary how well they could communicate with looks, and this silent communication said that the storyline was a little too close to the truth for comfort. But . . . Tiana didn’t have to know that.

“I like it,” was all Emma said.

“Great!” Tiana cheered. “Let’s get started!”

Killian stood behind Emma, one hand at her waist for the beginning of the dance. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She was so tired of always keeping it together. “You’re right,” she admitted, “but can we just focus on the dance for now?”

She tilted her face up to meet his just as the first notes of music began to play. He squeezed her waist and gave her a soft smile.

“You told me dance is your therapy, remember?”

Then he spun her out, and she let the music sweep her away.

*******************************************************

Monday came faster than Emma could have imagined. Instead of a routine by the pros, the show opened with a group routine of the top three couples to Parson James’ “Stole the Show.” Actually, it was more like a series of three short solos. As each couple danced a brief contemporary routine, the jumbotron behind them flashed a montage of clips from throughout the season. Emma was surprised how emotional it made her, especially in light of the lyrics: “Our debut was a masterpiece, but in the end for you and me, oh the show, it can’t go on.” It was beginning to sink in how soon she would have to tell Killian goodbye. London. It was so far away. She thought she would be prepared for this moment, but . . . London?

As soon as the lights came up and the studio audience began to cheer, the three pro dancers and their celebrities dashed backstage to get into their costumes. Ashley and Marco’s introduction followed by the commercial break would buy them a little time, but not much. Especially for Jefferson and Belle who would dance first. Emma broke away from Killian as she made a beeline for the women’s dressing room, but he stopped her with a gentle hand to her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Swan?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Sure,” she said, shrugging off his touch, “it’s just . . . the show must go on. Right?”

“Right . . . “

She refused to meet his gaze as she hurried along with the other female performers. The costume department was a flurry of activity as usual, and in the hustle and bustle, Emma pushed Killian’s forlorn expression from her face. She winced as she reached for her “costume”: a light blue men’s button-down shirt which only fell to the top of her thigh. Underneath she would wear a pair of black lycra dance shorts that were just long enough to let the eight o’clock viewers know she was, in fact, clothed. A part of her wanted to throw a fit when she saw it at dress rehearsals that morning, but she had bit her tongue. Tiana had already questioned her professionalism. She wasn’t about to push things further. After putting on her costume, Emma rushed to hair and makeup. They kept her hair down and artfully tousled, and her makeup was of a rosy hue. The entire look screamed, “I just had sex.” Emma blew out a long breath, and her locks, stiff with hairspray, rose and fell from across her eyes. She tossed her head back and glared at her reflection.

You can do this Emma! She lectured herself. Just play a character. Connect with his. It’s nothing.

Of course, that was a little hard to remember when she joined Killian in the hallway to find him wearing a pair of jeans. And nothing else.

Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “I thought they had you in a white t-shirt?”

Killian shrugged, quirking one brow in that playful way of his. “I think they’ve got you wearing my shirt, love.”

Emma couldn’t help but chuckle, even as she rolled her eyes. The lights flashed and a voice called out that they were back from commercial in three. Emma grabbed Killian by the arm. “Come on, they want us all up in the balcony to watch each other’s routines.”

The package for Jefferson and Belle’s routine confirmed what Belle had told her: Edward Teach was one eccentric choreographer. Not only did he have them rehearse on the beach, but he had them doing lifts in the surf.

“I think he’s watched Dirty Dancing one too many times,” Killian quipped in Emma’s ear. She giggled.

Nonetheless, Jefferson and Belle did a beautiful samba to – no surprise – “The Time of Our Lives.” Emma was impressed that Teach managed to make the choreography fresh and unique, not copying anything from the movie. The lifts were impressive, though nothing like that famous one between Baby and Johnny. In the end, they got two nines and a ten (from Teach, of course).

Emma wasn’t surprised that Aurora Briar took Blue’s rigid teaching style in stride. She was probably used to that type of coaching as an Olympic figure skater. She was, however, surprised at Blue’s choice of music and the style. Aurora and Sean danced a tango to “Roxanne,” the version from the movie Moulin Rouge.

“Did we miss the memo about it being movie theme night?” Killian whispered nervously.

Emma shrugged. “Maybe she was thinking about those Canadian ice dancers that skated to that song. I don’t know.” She patted Killian’s arm. “Our routine is more original. Tiana did a great job.”

He laced his fingers with hers. “You’re right, Swan. It’s just that we’re so close to winning . . .”

She let out a long, shaky breath. “I know.” Then she squeezed his hand before releasing it so they could clap as Aurora and Sean faced the judges. They got two nines and an eight, their own mentor giving them the toughest critiques.

“How long has that stick been up Blue’s arse?” Killian muttered.

Emma smiled and playfully nudged his shoulder. “Come on, it’s better for us, right?”

He scowled and crossed his arms. Emma tried not to admire how his biceps bulged. “I still think it was a low blow. She was their mentor!”

But Aurora’s low scores weren’t the most shocking part of the figure skater’s night. During her interview with Ashley, her pairs figure skating partner, Phillip, came up to congratulate her. After embracing her, the young man got down on one knee, pulling a tiny black velvet box from his coat pocket. Everyone went crazy when he proposed to Aurora on national television. Sobbing, she managed to choke out a, “yes.” The two embraced amidst loud cheers as Ashley segued to a commercial.

All Emma had time to do was give Aurora a brief side hug before she and Killian were ushered quickly down to the dance floor to hit their marks. As she rushed down the stairs, her hand in Killian’s, Emma glanced back at Aurora who only had eyes for Phillip as he pulled her to him again for a long, deep kiss. The sight made a deep longing slowly unfurl in Emma’s chest.

Their bare feet made no sound as they crossed the dance floor. A murmur of anticipation rippled through the audience, and a few whistles rang out. It caused a blush to tint the tips of Killian’s ears as she met his gaze. His eyes were bright under the stage lights, and Emma reached out to grasp his other hand. She wanted to say something, here in this moment that was so close to the end of their journey together, but words failed her. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile as he lifted both of her hands to his lips.

“I know, Swan,” he whispered, his breath sending tingles along her knuckles and down her arm. As the lights dimmed around them, she found she could scarcely breathe at the look in his eyes. Their rehearsal footage played, and for the first time that season, they turned to watch it together. Killian put his arm around her, and she let herself lean back against him. She was relieved to see that any emotional meltdowns involving her had been edited out. Instead, her frustrations came across as a deep desire to make the routine perfect for Killian’s sake; so they could win, which was completely true. In every way it was true; she wanted to win now not to prove herself but because Killian deserved it. She wanted to give this to him.

The video came to a close, and Emma stood erect, hitting her opening pose. Killian did the same, pulling her flush against him, lowering his face to hover over her neck, both hands grasping her waist. The opening of the song had been shortened by the live band, and their first movements didn’t begin until the female vocalist belted out the first lines of the song. They both swayed in unison as she sang, When you hold me in the street. Killian spun her out – And you kiss me on the dance floor – then yanked her back to him again – Why can’t it be like that?

Emma had always felt a new kind of freedom dancing with Killian, had always felt that she could lose herself in his arms. But she realized suddenly that Tiana was right, all this time she had been holding back. Because in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them. Emma completely forgot about the judges, the competition, the audience, the cameras. The meaning of the song washed over her, the perfection of each lyric for their relationship cracking her heart wide.

Cause I’m yours kept behind closed doors. Every time I see you, I die a little more. Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls. Emma contracted her body forward like a rag doll, and Killian’s arm circled her waist as he lifted her and carried her across the floor, her arms stretching out for something she couldn’t have. Then he flipped her and caught her bridal-style. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and it had nothing to do with Tiana’s choreography.

The male vocalist sang as Killian lifted her high into the air. Would you leave if I was ready to settle down? Or would you play it safe and stay? The look on his face as she collapsed into his arms from the lift, their foreheads pressed together, was so intense, she knew he wasn’t acting. Neither was she.

When they came to the part where they rolled together on the floor, Emma didn’t have a single thought of embarrassment. At this point, she’d forgotten everything but Killian. Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor? The lines of the final chorus wrapped around them as Emma straddled Killian, her hands cradling his head. She leaned forward as he rose up towards her, which wasn’t in the choreography. They were supposed to end the dance lying on their backs, hands clasped, then rolling away from each other. Tiana had explained that the end was supposed to show the tragedy of a love that could never be. Instead, Killian’s eyes locked with Emma’s, and she couldn’t have pulled away from him if she’d tried. She pressed her lips to his, her eyes falling closed. He kissed her back as the music faded away.

It was the sound of deafening applause that snapped them both out of it. Killian’s expression was wrecked as he pressed his forehead to hers, tenderly thumbing her cheek. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face there for a moment to collect herself. He rose to a standing position smoothly, carrying her with him.

“We did it, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, his voice slightly choked, “we did it.”

She nodded, still unable to speak, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she pulled away from him. He brushed it away with his thumb and gave her a small smile. She smiled tremulously back at him. They turned towards the judges, and Emma gasped when she saw all three judges on their feet giving them a standing ovation. Killian grabbed her in a side hug, lifting her off her feet as they found that the entire studio audience was also on their feet. Tiana had tears streaming down her face which she didn’t bother to wipe away. The cheers in the studio only seemed to increase, and Marco stepped towards them. He told them that they were running short on time, though his words were practically swallowed up by the roaring crowd. He directed them towards the stairs, and they made their way to the balcony. When they reached the top of the steps, they were surrounded by their competitors who hugged them and congratulated them with enthusiasm. It took a few more minutes even as they reached Ashley’s side for the pandemonium to die down.

“Well,” Ashley said, “we have never in the history of the show had a dance bring the house down like that one. Let’s get your scores.”

Emma and Killian embraced one another as they listened to the scores. Tiana gave them a ten, and they both laughed with joy. Teach also gave them a ten, and Emma squealed while Killian kissed her cheek. Blue gave them a ten, and pandemonium broke out in the studio once again. Killian shouted, then lifted Emma off her feet and spun her around.

“A perfect score!” Ashley announced into the microphone. Then she turned to them with a slightly mischievous smile. “And I’ve got to ask you. This season has been filled with romance, Emma. First with your sister and her partner Graham, then tonight with a proposal. So everyone wants to know: that kiss just now? Was that real?”

Emma’s mouth fell open as her face burned. Killian, bless him, saved the day.

“Well, the song did say kiss you on the dance floor,” he joked with his usual charm.

Laughter rippled throughout the studio, but Ashley wasn’t deterred. “Come on now, Emma. First your twin brother finds true love last season with his partner, now your sister Elsa has found it. We’ve all noticed the chemistry you have with Killian. Is there anything between you two? Has there been a date? Other kisses? Come on, everyone’s dying to know.”

This was the reason no one took the “no romantic entanglements” clause in the contracts seriously. The producers officially claimed to be against hookups on the show, yet they always played up rumors whenever it helped the ratings. Emma swallowed back her frustration as Ashley shoved the microphone in her face. Once again, Killian stepped in, leaning over her shoulder to answer the question instead. Emma figured he was used to fielding invasions of privacy like this anyway.

“Emma is a very dear friend, so of course I care deeply for her. But no, there have been no dates.”

Emma was impressed. He had smoothly answered the question vaguely without lying. She blushed when he winked at her as Ashley announced the next commercial break. As everyone’s attention shifted away from them, Killian pulled her to a far corner of the balcony. The adrenaline of their performance had finally worn off, and she found herself trembling, worrying what he was about to say. His eyes roamed her face, soft and vulnerable.

“You know I wasn’t acting out there, right?” he asked her softly.

Emma bit her lip and nodded. “I know,” she breathed out. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Neither was I, but –“

“It’s okay,” he cut her off, thumbing the dimple in her chin. “I meant what I said before. I’ll only take what you’re ready to give.”

Emma blinked as she felt tears gather behind her eyes. Her gaze darted over his shoulder. She couldn’t lose it right now, not when they were about to film the close of the show. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Then Killian’s hands were cupping her face, gently turning her gaze to his again.

“I’ll always be your friend, Emma, no matter what.”

His words made all the tension drain from her body. His hands fell away, and Emma felt her tears dissipate. He smiled, and she returned it.

“I’ll hold you to that, Jones,” she said.

Killian may have felt no need to pressure her for more than friendship, but that didn’t mean their fans shared the sentiment. Their dance went viral within hours of the live broadcast, and social media exploded with reactions to their steamy routine.

“Did you see that kiss?! I’m dead!” @trueloveandpixiedust

“You haven’t been on a date with her, Killian? Okay . . . .” @thecaptainsfairy

“They were awfully good at kissing. I don’t think that was their first one.” @neverlandforever

“Did you notice how he answered those questions? They’re a couple, and you can’t convince me otherwise.” @hooker4life

Emma wouldn’t lie, she was a little embarrassed. Killian, of course, helped diffuse everything with his typical jokes when he called later that night to check on her.

“Look on the bright side, Swan, it probably means we got lots of votes. You should have kissed me sooner on national television.”

Since she couldn’t punch him over the phone, she just rolled her eyes.

[bluefurcape]

When It Rains

This was a prompt from @itslulu42 on discord and I don’t think you’ll remember giving it but I started immediately then forgot about it. Then I came back to it and my note on it said “Smooth jazz kakashi” and I of course had to start back in bc I needed to know what happened next. 

I think the prompt was something along the lines of Amnesia, but instead of angsting Kakashi keeps hitting on Sakura. Part one of...three maybe. And vaguely i mixed in a KS Month prompt but now it’s too late and guess i’ll just die.

Haruno Sakura had known Kakashi since she was twelve years old. And he had known her since he was…well, she wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, since he never divulged that. The only reason any of the former members of Team 7 Kakashi knew his birthday was the success of an elaborate ruse enacted a long time ago, involving Icha Icha, balloon animals, and a knife.

Kakashi smiled at her without recognition, his eyes crinkling pleasantly. From his bed, he looked around the hospital room and the people gathered with mild curiosity. There was a faded yellow bruise exactly the size of an egg on his forehead, an injury that Sakura had healed only moments ago. Despite the stifling heat of summer outside, the air conditioning kept the room comfortably cool. The sweat that had dampened her clothes on her walk over to the hospital was almost making her chilly.

She took a deep breath, recounting the facts as they had been told to her, because she was having trouble processing. “Kakashi and Gai were doing one of their stupid bets.”

“Right,” Shikamaru said.

“And they were climbing Kakashi’s face on the Hokage monument,” she continued and he made a noise of confirmation. “They saw a nest of what they thought was a rare extinct bird and decided to check it out.” Slowly she began to shake her head. “The rare bird has an ability to take away memories. Kakashi and Gai forgot who they were and fell off the monument. The only reason they’re still alive is because you were nearby, playing hooky, and you managed to shadow grab the two of them.”

Shikamaru nodded.

“And how did Kakashi get this enormous welt on his head?” she asked.

“He may have bounced on some rocks before I got to him.” He looked away, shrugging in feigned innocence. If he thought that Sakura would reproach him, he was wrong, because Kakashi definitely deserved more than few knocks to the skull. Especially for this particular mess.

“Shikamaru?”

“Yes?”

“This is really bad.”

“I know, Sakura.”

“Really, really bad.” Sakura began to pace the length of the room, from the window to the opposite wall. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting when she received the urgent summons on her day off, but it wasn’t this. “So unbelievably bad. The Kage coalition arrives today. They’re going to be expecting Kakashi to be making a speech in a week. He can’t make a speech when he’s a drooling idiot!”

“Hey, I’m not drooling,” Kakashi piped up, highly offended. In a lower voice, he asked, “I’m Kakashi, right?”

She was somewhat relieved that he could still talk. All the stupidly vacant smiling was giving her suspicions otherwise. As a test, in case this was some kind of elaborate joke courtesy of Shikamaru, she asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“No, but I’d like to,” he responded automatically.

Her jaw dropped and then she shut it. “Excuse me?”

Shikamaru cleared his throat, but it sounded more like strangled laughter that he choked back down.

“My priorities are a little off here, but would you be interested going out to dinner with me?” Kakashi asked.

“Ask me again when you get your memories back,” she said flatly.

“Well, that’s very good motivation.”

Sakura turned to Shikamaru and widened her eyes. She knew something had been up when Kakashi and Gai had been admitted to the hospital and no one was allowed to treat them or see to them until she personally arrived, even though she had not been actively treating patients, except when her expertise was required, since her promotion to medical director. Her mind had reeled with worst case scenarios, disembowelment, lost limbs, broken spines. Instead, she walked in and Kakashi waved to her, a nasty welt on his temple, but otherwise whole, according to her diagnostic check. Gai was in the same state. Physically, nothing was wrong with either of them, they just had the misfortune of running into a magic memory thieving bird.

“You weren’t called in just to check on his health,” Shikamaru said, leaning against the window sill. “The Council is giving you an assignment. Obviously, we need you to monitor the Rokudaime in case his condition deteriorates. The second thing is that you need to try and jog his memory and bring him back.”

Her instinct was to question the choice. He had been her captain and they had an easy relationship, but she barely knew him. Kakashi kept his secrets close and it made small talk with him a bitch, because he apparently considered everything a secret. Still, she understood the reasoning behind the assignment. Kakashi didn’t have any family left. His father had passed when he was only a child. His mother, even earlier. As far as she knew, he had no relatives in Konoha who could tell him familiar stories. Naruto was often away on high ranking missions and there was no telling when he would return.

She turned to Kakashi, who was watching her with a smile. “I’ll try my best,” she said doubtfully. She glanced at Gai. “What about him?”

“We thought it best to allow him some recovery time before calling in Lee.”

“…Good idea.” This would devastate Gai’s protege. A volcano of emotions was surely waiting.

#

“Ha-ru-no Sa-ku-ra,” Kakashi said, as if the syllables of her name were a song. He grinned, pleased with himself.

“Right. And your name is..?” Sakura gestured to him in encouragement.

“Uh…”

“Ha,” she prompted him with the first sound of his clan name.

“Ha…Ha…Haruno Kaku?”

“Hatake Kakashi,” she corrected patiently.

“I would much rather be Haruno Kakashi.”

She flushed, her face heating. “Well, you aren’t.”

“But there isn’t a Mr. Haruno Sakura around, right?”

Sakura bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh. Ever since he’d become her charge, the flirting had been incessant. She figured the magic bird had affected his impulse control in some way. However coming from him, the cheesy lines were actually kind of endearing. “No. No there isn’t.”

He nodded innocently, sitting primly on the ancient sofa in his apartment. His place was unsurprisingly neat, though all of the pieces of furniture looked at least a decade older than her, edges worn away and colors faded. It was also definitely a bachelor pad in every sense of the word. A narrow twin bed, suitable for one and only one. A closet full of the same articles of clothing.

When she entered the kitchen, she found a single set of utensils, a mug, a bowl, and a plate in the cupboard. Just to have something to do, she placed the kettle on the stove anyway to make some tea. One of them could use the bowl to drink out of. Did he never have people over? She tied up her sweaty hair and wished silently that she could at least take a shower. The council had laid down a strict water ration due to the extended drought this year. Bathing was restricted to about fifteen minutes and the mandate encouraged the villagers to go a few days in between. Her stink wasn’t too bad, as far as she could tell, but she missed standing under a nice stream of water and forgetting about the world.

She leaned against the counter, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling hopeless. She didn’t even know where to begin.

“Does any of this ring a bell?” she called out. All of this was a shot in the dark. Bring Kakashi to familiar places and see if anything happened was her general plan. She hated it because she loved real plans. Strategy with complexity. Tasks that could be conquered. Instead, she floundered, coming up with ideas on the fly.

“Nope,” was the cheerful response. At least he was taking this memory loss business in stride. If it were her, she would be freaking out at being completely untethered.

The kettle whistled and she poured the hot water out into the mug and the bowl. From one of the cupboards, she dug up a dented box of genmai and added the tea bags, letting the tan tendrils swirl. There was a solitary tray of ice in the freezer that she took a few cubes from, because she simply did not feel like drinking hot leaf juice in the middle of a drought. Out of curiosity, she checked the bottom part of the fridge too. A nearly empty carton of eggs and an old box of take out greeted her. The inside was bare bones. She was finally getting a glimpse behind the walls that Kakashi maintained and rather than a suave, older man like she had been half expecting, she was getting a sense of just how alone he was. Guilt twisted her lips into a frown. She could claim that she hadn’t known, but that was just an excuse. Her own life was a little more than she could handle. Late night shifts. The constant fires that needed to be put out. Kakashi had been there, quiet in the background, and her attention had glanced over him and determined him a lesser priority because honestly, he seemed fine.

She brought the tea over to the living room, offering  Kakashi the mug and taking the bowl for herself. He accepted the beverage then looked back at her and said, “Now, I know I don’t have any memories, but is it customary to drink from a bowl?”

“There weren’t any other cups,” she explained as she curled herself into the armchair perpendicular to the sofa.

“Hm. Okay.” He lowered the hospital mask and took a sip. When he noticed Sakura’s blatant stare, he cautiously asked, “What?”

Even without his memories, Kakashi had chosen to continue to wear the mask. He didn’t seem to notice it or question why he was wearing one.

She caught a glimpse his long, straight nose and lips that lifted in an easy smile. She was almost upset that she hadn’t known before that every time he shot a grin at her, the mask had hidden a set of slightly crooked teeth and a chipped canine that she found unnervingly charming. She wanted to cradle his face in her hands.

Part of her resisted telling him, craving the pleasure of simply seeing him. But it was only right that she tell him, rather than let him go on and act in a way that he would resent her for later. “You probably don’t know this, but you never show your face to anybody,” she said calmly, hiding the giddy urge to get on her feet and dance in her own personal victory.

He hummed to himself and tugged on the elastic strings of the mask hanging around his ear. “Never?”

She nodded her head.

“Is it because I’m ugly?” he asked, touching his lower lip as he frowned.

“No!” Her response was a little too emphatic, even to her own ears.

“Ah. Good.” He smiled again and her heart beat faster.

She was unused to feeling this way around him and she was both curious and disconcerted. To distract herself, she leaned over to the side table and picked up the only two photo frames that Kakashi seemed to possess.

The older one was a photo of his team when the Fourth had been his captain. It showed a young Kakashi glaring at the camera, standing next to a dark haired boy in goggles. The Fourth stood behind them, his hands affectionately ruffling their hair. The last member, a young girl with short brown hair, beamed in the front. She couldn’t help but notice the similarities between this photo and the other one, which was of Team 7 in the early days. A nostalgic smile played on her lips.

“Who are those people?” Kakashi peered over at the photographs.

“Your friends…” she responded tentatively, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

…those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

“Oh. Are they still around? Maybe they can help me get back my memory.”

She hesitated. She’d heard rumors of what had happened to Kakashi’s old team--none of it sounded happy. The dark haired boy must have been Obito, who would become the same man that Kakashi had thought dead and carried guilt over for decades. In a twist, Obito had turned out to be alive during all of that time, but even that was complicated and…he certainly was gone now. Of the four people in the photograph, Kakashi was the only survivor. Painful trauma didn’t seem like the best place to start with his memories.

She held up the photo of Team 7 instead, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her deliberate omission. Team 7 had gone through it’s own troubles, but the ending was happier. At least they had that. She pointed at their younger selves with exaggerated enthusiasm. “That’s you and me. The blond one is Naruto and the scowling one is Sasuke.”

“Sasuke looks like he has a stick up his ass,” he commented immediately.

“An accurate assessment.” She snorted. “You were my teacher and then later, my captain. Do you remember?”

He scratched his chin in thought. “Teacher, huh? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“On the first day I met you, you were very late, fell for Naruto’s stupid trick, and told us that you hated us.”

“Yikes.”

“And then you had Naruto tied up because he tried to cheat.”

Kakashi squinted at the picture. “Naruto’s the blond one, correct? The one who looks like he hasn’t realized that he’s crushing on the other one?”

Sakura blinked and looked for herself. “What.”

“How long ago was this picture taken?”

“Ten, I think.”

“So, are they married now? The hate sex must have been good.”

Her cheeks flushed. She did not want to think about two of her closest friends getting it on! “Gross. They aren’t together and you’re not allowed to talk about them like that. Sasuke is on some kind of redemption quest and Naruto is on a long term mission to the east.”

He made sarcastic air quotes as he said, “’Redemption quest.’”

“This isn’t working, let’s move on,” she grumbled.

[sleepymarmot]

A couple of months ago, after finishing COUNTER/Weight, I spent about a week in a total hangover, relistening to scenes and having feelings. I took some notes, but procrastinated posting them, and then finally got distracted. But, a) I hate leaving things I intended for tumblr unposted, even if they have value only for me, and b) I also hate posting things out of order, and there's a big TM liveblog incoming. So, here's a bunch of really random thoughts about C/w from past me.

The gnosis virus did go nowhere huh. I was hopeful for a minute when one of the finale intros mentioned it, but that was it. What was the purpose of that arc even. [Note from present me: Lol. At least I feel better about this one!]

Oh, and the patch AuDy left never reappeared either. And the idea from the faction game that Aria's images owned by EarthHome/Petrichor transmit Rigour code… That's the flip side of the coin. On the one hand, it's really cool to see the creative process – on the other, it sometimes feels like you're listening to people write a script for the tv show, but only get to see a half of the finished product. It's fascinating to see the universe grow organically and the players to come up with new ideas and get excited about them – but that means numerous retcons, some of them not even presented as such, because the creators forgot what the previous revision was or didn't thought it was important. It's a unique feature of the medium that player choice directs the narrative and it's not bound by railroading – but that means some roads lead nowhere, and some branches dry and fall off.

It's a bit harder to make peace with something that could have easily been developed more within the existing plot of the show. How come there's a player character whose consciousness consists of three different people in various combinations, but nobody seems to be curious how that works? No PC or NPC ever asked “Which one of you is speaking right now?” or something. The final episodes made a lot of things clearer, but it still felt too little, too late. Hard not to be reminded of that gripe about certain two characters sharing one character sheet one of whom was left underdeveloped and half-forgotten… Both are very ambitious concepts that require a double amount of work from the player, so I feel bad complaining they weren't realized to full potential, but…

Speaking of L&D… I still want to know how the hell did that one engineer all by herself design 4 gods, one of which became a basis for technology that was advanced even for the civilizations 80,000 years later? This woman singlehandedly surpassed any technological achievement of humanity before and after. Who Is She

I saw a “Wake me up: before you go go / when september ends / wake me up inside” meme and thought “heh, this sounds relevant, which member of the Chime is which?” and it already made me sad, but then I realized that I'd never actually heard the september song and looked it up and. The lyrics fit so well. What the fuck. It's an old song everyone keeps joking about. Why is it appropriate for a legitimate fanmix. What. I guess the word “September” will never be the same again for me.

I looked up the rules for Firebrands, the game used for the finale. Oh my, challenges for the dance minigame are so overtly romantic when you see them in a list together! Imagine this cast of characters having to answer to “do you place your hand upon my elbow, shoulder, waist, or hip?” lmao. Also I didn't realize “May I?” was part of the rules for “stealing time together”. (And I found out there's a party version of that minigame with bug-themed challenges. I might have dug too deep…) "Tactical skirmish" is a really fascinating concept, I've never seen such a masochistic combat system! Really faces the player with the violence they're inflicting: sure, you can always fight on, but are you ready to live with what you'll have to do? But for it to work fully, you need a lot of non-expendable NPCs on both sides. The one with the most likeable team wins! (Like Mako did.)

I'm relistening to Three Conversations and it's pretty interesting that Ibex has a bunch perfectly lifelike android bodies, right? There is no such technology seen anywhere else. Did Righteousness develop and privatize that? Are they so complex that only a Divine would have enough computing power to successfully mimic organic life? Can Aria convince Righteousness to help her perform on stage without leaving her duties? Also, like with AuDy, I wonder how Ibex & Righteousness' consciousness works. Is it a single mind, spread across every body he has, or even anything Righteousness is running on, having a bunch of different conversations at once if he needs to? Or is the original Ibex just gone, and what's left is a personality imprint hanging on to the connection to his still living body, imitating his former self like the automated recording Cass saw wore his face? In other words, has Ibex completely fused with Righteousness, or assimilated and destroyed by it? Does he not exist anymore as an independent singular being, or does he not exist at all? Most info indicates the former, but there was also “You’re not in there anymore” “No”.

If Orth and Jace are anime fans with their Kingdom Come and Panther, then Ibex is the guy who's way too into dinosaurs or paleontology. It's as if the heads of various confessions were called Triceratops, Stegosaurus etc. and only one of them knows wtf that means, and also he compares his Divine to… Were there scavenging dinosaurs? I'm looking at an article that suggests T. Rex might have been a scavenger, so yeah he would compare Righteousness to a goddamn T. Rex.

Hey what do you think is the most thematically aproppriate part of the Hieron anime for Orth to watch alone at night during the Kingdom game. What's the best thematic parallel for when he turns off the episode and thinks he made a mistake. Do you think that he once, after a long day and a long month and maybe a long year of feeling helpless and doomed, sits down for a distraction but ends up sobbing “How could they let this happen to Mother Glory”

On Joypark, there are definitely statues of Eidolons, ancient and holy, that were repainted and repurposed as Hieron deities. Imagine a giant Greek or Roman style marble statue of Apote – and it’s painted over as Samot, with an anime face and in really bright plain colors like these “reconstructions of original coloring” that actually only use base colors so they look like cheap action figures.

I was reading Austin's top ten games of 2016 list on Waypoint and he gave first place to The Sprawl! Aww!

The Downloads folder in my phone gallery is funny bc it mostly consists of every freely available f@tt map and also that one photo of Tristan Walker (because I tried to redraw it, very unsuccessfully). I go check a map and every time am met by Ibex just. staring at me. It's unsettling

Some of the many options for how Apostolosian gender could have been presented:

Apostolosians prefer to be addressed by the most neutral available human pronoun, represented as "they" in English, because the human languages don't have anything close enough

Apostolosian pronouns are represented in English by a set of real-life common pronouns and neopronouns

There's a list of Apostolosian pronouns and they're just used in English verbatim (Really impractical because the players need a cheat sheet, but the most fair)

Humans apply human genders to Apostolosians. Apostolosians may be offended, may find it convenient, or something else

As Austin said in the post-mortem, the Eidolon system is not gender. It's represented in English by titles/honorifics/etc

Any of the above, and the creators are aware of the difference between personal pronouns, grammatical gender, and social gender

And that’s not even touching the core problem of what the concept of gender in a futuristic, techonologically advanced society would look like. Yes, I'm complaining about this for the third time but I'm just. So tired of native English speakers' takes on gendered language. They could have made Apostolosian gender look like anything and they made it look like that fucking mess... God, I really hope TM is good enough to make me forget and forgive the experience of listening to “he... sorry, they” for 100 hours. [Note from present me: Well… mostly]

Here’s my take on this: eidolons in Apostolosian language are absurdly broad noun classes with associated classifiers (which fits both the idea that they’re gender but not actually, and that each of them is a patron to several unrelated aspects of life) Apostolosian: the word “(Apo)thesa” is used to refer to people who follow the corresponding eidolon, as well as for counting buildings, heavy machinery, military units, specific strategies and tactics, log entries, historical documents and chronicles, history textbooks and monographs, and eras :) Human: what the fuck

Very critical, imaginative worldbuilding in which 80,000+ years into the future humanity somehow has 21st century gender and 21st century capitalism! TBH, I find any sci-fi set in the far future inherently silly – we can’t really imagine the future technogy and its effect on society. But it feels like C/w barely even tried, and to hear it boast about “critical worldbuilding” is kinda strange. I assumed that meant they build the world critically, not that they recreate modern society or some aspect of it and criticize that! It’s just another Star Trek then! And it was already clear right during the setup when they said “We don’t want Star Trek aliens” and immediately created Apostolosians.

I haven't seen a single piece of fanart with Taako and Mako. Come on, does nobody want to see these two next to each other! Especially considering the outfits artists like to put Taako in!

I really don't understand how and why people do fandom activities on Twitter and Discord where the creators also have accounts. It gives me so much secondhand embarrassment. I can barely peek at Twitter posts before running away. Old-fashioned opinion apparently but I strongly believe the main fandom space and the interaction-with-original-creators space should be separate. I need a space where I can voice my opinions, especially negative ones, with complete freedom. I need to be able to say exactly what's on my mind. But I wouldn't want any of the people on the podcast to read something unfiltered like my complaints above. Being in the same space as the source content creators obliges any decent person to be diplomatic and constructive. And the creators, in turn, need a space where they don't come across complete randos yelling at them about something they said in a podcast three years ago. I'm already feeling uncomfortable because hearing to strangers pour their hearts out for hundreds of hours gives me way too much insight on who they are as people. Of course, nothing’s stopping them from lurking on Tumblr or AO3 and even reading this very post, but a platform where they have official accounts is still a different thing! I even feel uncomfortable talking about the podcast creators using their first names so much. To my ear, referring to a total stranger by first name, especially if it's a shortened form, sounds so rude! I'm not their friend, I don't have that right! But, of course, writing something like “Mr Walker” in my liveblogs would have been even weirder, nobody does that...

Is it a common experience to not even think about fanfiction after listening to Hieron, but going straight to AO3 after C/w? I feel like since Hieron is still a work in progress, writing/reading about it is stepping on the GM&players' toes, and C/w is finished so it's like they gave us the keys to the playground, it's the fandom's turn now. This story has so much blanks and they must be filled! In one of the early episodes they joked that something cute they said would encourage people to ship Mako/Cass and I was like "Bold of you to assume they aren't already" and, indeed, I was right and it's the most popular C/w ship on AO3. Too bad I’m so indifferent to it…

It’s a shame we never had a full scene with Ariadne or even learned what they were up to during the finale.

I still don't understand how Ibex went from “evil CEO” to “leader of a proletarian revolution”, these sound like completely opposite concepts to me

I probably have talked about this too much and have pretty much given up on ever getting a clear picture due to all of these reimaginings but… Righteousness and Voice… Ibex takes Righteousness out of Mako but he still has Voice, that was pretty much openly stated, correct? So how does that work? I’m guessing Righteousness is hidden somewhere in Voice’s code. But if so:

Did Maryland know? On the one hand, she’s too competent not to. On the other, why would she ever allow or accept that?

How did Righteousness not get corrupted by Rigour too? Maybe it did, but broke off the connection with the rest of itself to contain the damage? Or maybe, on the contrary, it kept in contact and was sending intel to Ibex the whole time? But in that case he would have provided more help in the finale.