#i never want to draw a courtroom again

[yellowtrinity]

a gift for my sister inspired by our extensive discussions about the tremendous potential of an ace attorney kart racer....... RACE ATTORNEY

[citricacidprince]

could you draw the courtroom scene with relativity falls? (mabels bubble)

Gladly!!! I’ve already brought up some Stan Weirdmageddon Bubble stuff here, but the equivalent of the Mabel Trial for Stan makes me wanna blow up I just adore it!!

Okay, so first things first, here’s Captain Stan’s design, my precious baby boy <3

Figured it’d be fun to mix some aspects of Grunkle Stan’s Mr. Mystery outfit with a pirate twist, just for fun!

As for the ‘trial’, its more of a argument between two boys who just WONT talk about their issues

Fiddleford, Boyish Dan, and Anjelita are also there, but Stan isn’t mad at them. In fact, he doesn’t even care that they’re breaking the rules by being there, he’s only mad at Ford. He’s mad that Ford was just going to leave him behind and send Stan back to New Jersey by himself while he stayed and studied with their Grunkle Dipper. Leaving Stan all by himself at home. Alone to deal with their father. Alone with no friends. Alone to be the family disappointment.

But no matter how mad he gets at Ford, Stan can’t ever say that he’s hates him, and Stan would give him a million chances to fix things. So, instead of immediately throwing Ford off the deck of his ship, he gives him an ultimatum. A very easy solution to all of this.

All Ford has to do is say that he’s sorry, and Stan would let him go. He won’t leave the bubble because he actually really likes it in there, but he’ll let Ford go.

This.. doesn’t end very well

Stan, absolutely heartbroken, decides to make his brother walk the plank. If he’s dead to Ford, well then Ford is dead to him as well.

However, right before his crew could push Ford into the water, something happened.

You see, when Stan unknowingly gave the rift to Bill he only had one wish. That he’d never be alone again. So when he first appeared in his bubble it was actually completely dark and empty, except for a small light glowing in his hands. It was a little version of Ford. He smiled and laughed just like he did when they were a bit younger, and he said everything Stan wanted to hear.

Very quickly Stan realized he could manipulate the bubble and create anything that he wanted, just like he could back in the Mindscape. So he created what he knew. Glass Shard Beach, New Jerseys. It was full of never ending boardwalks, houses and attractions with silly names, and that beach he loved so much. It didn’t take long after that to realize it was still quite lonely, even with Lil’ Ford (a name he lovingly gave the small version of his brother). However, he didn’t want the town to be full of faceless nobodies or people he actually knew, that’d be weird.

Then he had the genius idea to just fill the town with himself! After all, he never had to worry about himself betraying him or leaving him behind!

Soon the town was overrun with imperfect duplicates of himself and he couldn’t have been any happier.

However, the duplicates were so much like him that it soon made a new problem arise. They started asking about Ford. Like, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Can you make one?’ ‘I miss having him around.’

Stan did have Lil’ Ford hidden under his pirate hat, but he didn’t want to tell the other Stans that he was there. He didn’t know exactly why he kept Lil’ Ford hidden away. Probably a mixture of bitterness and anger still aimed at his real twin brother and a selfishness to keep Lil’ Ford to himself. So he just declared that Fords were banned altogether and left it at that.

This was a problem when right as Stanford was about to pushed off the plank, Lil’ Ford came out from under the Captain’s hat and told Stan to stop all of this.

The two bicker for a moment and some Stans ask who that is, causing Lil’ Ford to happily state that he’s Stanley’s brother, that the two are going to sail the world together, and that he loves Stan very dearly.

This doesn’t go over well with literally any of the Stan on board and it especially doesn’t go over well with Ford

The Stans pull a mutiny and try to kill Stan because they don’t think he should be Captain anymore and one of them should run the town instead.

Hard cut to Boyish Dan, Anjelita, Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan having a high speed boat chase with other Stans and popping the bubble while escaping. (I like to think Stan popped the bubble at the last second with the help of Shanklin <3 )

Stan is NOT happy about having to leave his Weirdmageddon bubble.

“You should have left me in there. I was HAPPY there.”

“Who cares if you were happy, you were living a lie! A sad delusion! You should be happy we pulled you out of there!”

Boyish Dan has it cut in before the two start fighting right then and there

Stan eventually calms down enough to decide that he’s going to save their Grunkle Dipper from Bill, but there is a thick tension between Stan and Ford that last until the huge blow out fight at the Cipher Wheel

A fight that started because Stan wanted Ford to finally say it.

‘I’m Sorry.’

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 3151 (chapter 37)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

I think we cooked 👀👀 (minors do not interact!!)

37. bad idea, right?

"Can I touch your face?" Matt asks, still not letting go of your hand. "I want to at least imagine what you look like." 

"Yes." You say softly, barely above whisper. Matt gently places his fingers on your cheeks, feeling your skin become hotter under his touch. You involuntarily close your eyes, enjoying the moment, while his fingertips ghost over your forehead, along your hairline, touching your eyebrows and your closed eyelids, feeling the slight twitching when your eyes move. Matt's skin is warm, he softly grazes his fingers along your cheekbones, your nose, feeling the light bump in the middle, as if you had broken it long time ago. You feel your breath hitch when his thumbs slide along your jawline, stopping on your chin to lift it up by an inch, and his thumb finally draws a line along your lips, barely touching, but you feel like you're already on the cloud nine. 

"So beautiful." He mutters, not hurrying to take his hands off your face, on the contrary, he slides his fingers in your hair, pulling out your hair tie and slowly massaging your scalp. You've never felt like this before. He wasn't doing much, yet that was the most intimate moment with someone in your whole life. Making yourself to open your eyelids, you see Matt leaning closer to you than before, holding his breath. He looked like he was restraining himself, as if he was holding back, or tried not to hold onto you with his whole weight. Lips slightly parted, his Adam's apple moving every time he swallowed his saliva - this was the hottest sight you've ever laid your eyes on.

It was a game. A game of who will break first. The desire to pull him in for a suffocating kiss was becoming unbearable, and Matt knew this too. He decided to tease a little longer, get you so desperate for him that you wouldn't be able to take another breath without feeling his lips on yours. You two have already shared a couple of heated kisses, but now, he knew that this one will be different, maybe even better than the previous ones. Matt's fingers gently slide down your neck, over the hem of your blouse, and stop where the cut-out ends. Teasingly, his fingers trace back along the hem of your blouse, and find their place on your jawline. "Kiss me, Matt." You say, feeling your body arching into his touch on its own.

He doesn't delay any longer, diving to meet your lips already at half of the distance than it was before. The kiss, although it was mainly tongues and teeth clashing together, took your breath away. Your fingers slipped on the back of his neck, pulling him closer into your chest. Matt complies, still holding his whole weigh on the back of the sofa, his knee painfully pressing into your thigh, leaving the skin red upon the contact. As much as you don't want to pull away, you still do, breathing heavily, watching a cocky smirk on Matt's lips. There was no denying that he was driving you insane, but the sight of his lips, almost red and bruised from the kiss, your  kiss, almost sent you over the edge.

"You taste like beer." He breathes out, licking his lower lip seductively. "And whiskey." Matt can't say anything else because you kiss him again, still with urgency and desire, clouding his senses and lighting up a fire inside his body. His hands run along your body, tug at your jacket and you push yourself up, unsticking your back from the sofa. Jacket down somewhere on the ground, you were feeling on fire. You wished to be out of your clothes as soon as possible, but Matt still wanted to get you so worked up that you wouldn't be able to think of anything else but him.

"Matt.." you whisper, breath hitching as he peppers kisses on your neck, his fingers pulling your blouse down at the end of the cut out, until he feels your bra underneath. His left hand is slowly caressing your skin just above your knee, controlling his strength, because otherwise, he would let his fingers dig into your soft flesh. If he could, he'd mark you as his.

"I wanted this for so long." He says, pulling away from your neck, his nostrils filled with your sweet perfume, fingers clumsily trying to unbutton your silver blouse. You try to find a better position without breaking your back sitting sideways, and end up pressed deeper into the sofa, now lying with Matt making himself comfortable between your legs. Your skirt has ridden so far up that it doesn't function as such anymore.

"Oh yeah? How long?" You say between kisses, now much more slower than before, somehow full of depth. You just couldn't get enough of his lips.

Matt is halfway through unbuttoning your blouse, when he pulls you by your legs closer to him. "Since our second court. When you won." Goosebumps cover your skin when his hand gently rubs your bare thigh, sliding up further than before.

"Really?" You grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer, yet not close enough for your lips to touch, and start unbuttoning his shirt. "I thought you were weeping when you got home."

A smirk appears on Matt's face, "You were good, but not that  good."

"Cocky bastard." Your fingers quickly work out his buttons and soon Matt feels a light breeze dance on his stomach, your cold fingers touch his chest and abs. "Ripped cocky bastard."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Matt leans forward, suddenly thrusting his hips into yours, and you feel a moan leave your mouth.

"I got a nice reward for that case." You close your eyes when Matt dives to kiss your neck again, lips making their way to your breasts. "Hogarth gave me my office the same day."

"Really?" He asks between kisses, licking a stripe on your neck up till your jaw, hands finally opening your blouse and pushing it off your shoulders.

"Yeah. Somehow that month you were our number one enemies." You remain in a sitting position, still trapped between Matt's hips. 

"I honestly refuse to believe that." He hums lowly when you sit in his lap, pushing him into the back of the sofa and kissing his neck. Matt's hands find their place on your lower back, not so discreetly pushing you further into him.

"Hogarth and Benowitz were fuming everytime we got to know that you are on the opposing side." You arch your back when Matt starts unzipping your skirt. 

"Ha," he breathes out half of laugh when your hips start grinding on his, hands resting on his shoulders. "I'm a very good lawyer then."

"Don't forget..." You lean closer, lips touching his earlobe, "I've won more times than you." Matt's breath hitches when your hand slides between your pressed bodies, and touches his hard on. 

"Y/n-" His body chases your touch, giving you control, and you make work of his belt, hurrying to unzip his pants before he takes the reigns again. "Let me just-"

"Matt, shut up." You push him into the sofa using minimum strength, your tongue invading his mouth and he misses the moment your hands free him from his trousers and you begin grinding on him again, underwear providing at least a half of pleasure that you'd want. "I wanted this since we went to Josie's the first time." Breathing heavily, you bite your lip to prevent another moan from leaving your mouth, instead, Matt takes his turn and a filthy groan leaves his mouth, the sound going straight to your core. "You were so desperate to talk about the case, I was sure it was more than that."

Matt smirks, swiftly laying you down, so now he was in control again. You try to shimmy out of your skirt while Matt rips the shirt off his body and throws it somewhere behind the sofa. His hands stop yours and he finishes the job for you. "Well, Miss y/l/n, you weren't wrong. I wanted to have you all for myself that evening."

"You have me now." You gasp and immediately grab his arm when he brushes his fingers on your panties, feeling how wet you got from his touch. Matt continues his actions a few more times, until he pulls your panties to the side and you almost cum from the sight of him licking his ring and middle fingers, surely enough already tasting you, but then he slowly pushes them inside you, making you gasp loudly at this new feeling. His eyebrows knit together, feeling how tightly your pussy was squeezing his fingers, almost throbbing at the contact. You try to lean on your elbows, try to watch how his fingers disappear inside of you, making your muscles tense and mind race ten times faster. Your hips chase his fingers when he pulls them out, quickly unclasping your bra with his free hand and his fingers, that had just been inside of you, still wet, harshly brush on your breast, trapping your nipple in the middle. Without any warning, Matt dives in, sucking the wet nipple. You moan again, trying your best to keep your mind in place. Being drunk and horny wasn't the best combination, especially when you were lying under the man you desired for a long time. "I need you... in me." You breathe out, and Matt pulls away, leaving your nipple and you waiting for more.

"You sure?" He asks, so painfully hard, that he had to restrain himself from ripping your panties out of his way.

"Yes, Matt, yes." 

He jumps out of bed, getting out of his pants as quick as possible, and while you get rid of your panties, you notice him taking out a condom out of his pocket. How long has he been carrying that? Your question remains unanswered when Matt returns to the previous spot, now both fully naked in front of each other, and the anticipation is almost driving you over the edge. With burning eyes, you watch him stroke himself a couple of times before pulling on the condom. You know that he wants to ask something again, you can feel the question hanging in the air, but you decide to speed things up and when the tip of his penis brushes on your folds and stops right at the entrance of your vagina, you push him all the way into you with your heels, and the mutual groan sends shockwaves through your body. You felt so full at this moment, trying to savour the feeling of your bodies finally connected.

"So tight..." Matt  grits out through his teeth, "...so good." He finally starts moving, at first, agonizingly slow, but quickly picking up a pace. You only manage to grab his back, letting your nails to dig into the muscles, as well as push him closer to you, clashing your lips together, because finally, he left you speechless.

The pace that Matt finally has set was already making you see stars. You two were panting like you've just ran a marathon, and you were pretty sure that his neighbours will file a noise complaint from the way you couldn't stop the sounds from leaving your mouth. Matt burried his head deep into your neck, biting your shoulder slightly, but sure that it would leave a mark. Everything about this moment was so filthy yet so sacred for him, and even if he felt that he was still a little bit tipsy, the alcohol didn't have the same effect on him that you did. He couldn't remember the last time it felt so good to have sex with someone, let alone enjoy their company, but with you it was different. Your nails, painfully digging into his back, your short breaths that were leaving your mouth every time he pushed himself into you, and the moans of his name, muttered into his ear - everything combined almost made him cum as fast a virgin.

"Matt, I'm so close." You whisper, eyes tightly closed, losing control over your body, when you feel Matt quickening the pace, although the movements of his hips were becoming sloppier and sloppier with each thrust.

He pulls away from your shoulder, resting his forehead on yours, his hot breath mixing with yours, and you arch your back into him again, when Matt slides his hand between your bodies, his fingers frantically rubbing your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment, orgasm overtaking your body, legs shaking with force you didn't know you could experience.

Matt groans loudly, whispering your name like a mantra when, shaken by the orgasm, you squeeze him tightly, and he cums in the condom, still inside you.

"Matt, fuck." You manage to say while he continues to move inside, fucking you through both of your orgasms.

He lets his body fall onto yours, pulling out, and you hiss at the loss of contact, only now feeling how oversensitive you've just become. "Am I squeezing you?" Matt asks, lifting his head from your chest, and gently brushing the hair off your forehead. Only now you notice how sweaty you were, hair sticking to your forehead. Matt's stubble brushes on your cleavage, creating an itchy spot.

"No." You exhale, hugging him close to your body, and you can't stop yourself from kissing his face, his cheeks and his full pink lips. You just couldn't get enough of him.

I don't want this to end. That's what he wanted to say, to scream at the top of his lungs, yet only a soft hum left his lips. "Stay?" He suddenly asks, and you feel your legs giving up, somehow this being more intimate than what you just did minutes ago.

"You sure?" You ask, slowly grazing your fingers on his bicep.

"Yeah. You can sleep in my bed." His nose  makes circles on your chest, along with short pecks from time to time.

"Are you gonna be there too?" You laugh slightly, pulling him in for another slow kiss.

"Wouldn't miss this chance." Matt smiles, making your heart swell at the sight of his disheveled hair and a lazy look on his face.

***

You stay the night, waking up when the early morning light breaks through the window of Matt's bedroom. First, you feel your head pounding, as if someone was continuously smashing plates beside your ear. The feeling makes you want to groan loudly, but the arm draped over your stomach prevents you from making any sound. Without turning your body, you look at Matt, sleeping beside you peacefully. He looked so handsome when he wasn't worrying about anything. Then it finally dawns on you - you had sex with Matt. And hell, it was so good...

You find your phone under the pillow, looking at the time. Almost seven. Unconsciously, your hands open messages and in a blink, you're already texting Pug.

You: oh my god

You: shit. We had sex

Pug texts back almost immediately, sending a couple of messages at the same time.

Pug: what? Who's we??

You: Matt and I

Pug: The Matt? Your boss?

You don't answer right away and almost drop your phone on your face when Pug starts calling, only managing to turn off the sound without waking up Matt.

You: DUDE

You: Im at his apt!!

Pug: oH. Well shit, you two finally got laid

You: what you mean by finally??

Pug: cmon we both know it had to happen sooner or later. But wait how did it happen?

You: im so hungover now.

You: long story. Maybe when we meet ill tell

Pug: hey not fair! He's still sleeping?

You steal another glance at Matt, but then he presses you into him, nuzzling his nose into your neck, almost making you shiver. Stilling again, you text Pug back.

You: yeah, don't think any other guy has cuddled me like that in the morning

Pug: cuddling? When's the wedding?

You: shut up 😂

Pug: but in all seriousness now... How good was he?

You: you wouldn't believe if I told you

You: anyways, why are you up so early?

Pug: going to the courtroom in 2 hrs

You: you didnt tell me you had a case

Pug: you didn't ask

You: dick. Good luck

Pug: thanks, shorty 💚

You drop your phone beside your head, exhaling loudly. Matt stirs next to you, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Morning." He mumbles, bringing your bodies even closer together.

"Morning, handsome." You turn around to look at him.

Matt smiles lazily, gently rubbing your arm, "what time is it?"

"Seven." You close your eyes again, enjoying this closeness and warmth. "We should get up." You say reluctantly, "I still have to go home to get changed."

"I'm sure you look good in my shirt." He replies, hands slipping under the material of his shirt to touch your stomach teasingly.

"As soft as it is, I'm afraid that it doesn't cover my ass." You stop his hand roaming on your skin.

"Everyone should know about your ass." He says in your hair, his hot breath causing you to shiver.

"Objection. Everyone should know about your ass."

"I'm sensing an obsession."

"I'm sensing that we should get going." You kiss him on the lips, quickly pulling away before he traps you again. "I still have to call for a taxi and get changed, and somehow retrieve my car from the bar."

"Can I tag along?" He asks, sitting on the bed when you leave his side.

"I think it would be too suspicious for Karen, especially since we left Josie's together." You say loudly, already putting on your clothes that were scattered on the floor of his living room.

"I don't care." He says, standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Matt... Don't be sad. We'll meet in a couple of hours." You hurry to kiss him goodbye, feeling how he presses your body into his, and much to your surprise, he zips up your skirt, kissing your temple.

"I can't wait." He says, listening to your hurried steps downstairs, already missing your presence in his apartment.

Matt was glad that you slept so peacefully the whole night and didn't even notice him leaving in the middle of the night. He had to leave, he had to find that junkie who killed Elena and he had to beat the shit out of him, because he deserved to die at least, eye for an eye, but it wasn't Matt, so of course, he was left severely guilty and bleeding. That's the minimum of the punishment that he deserved.

Reluctantly, but with a smile on his lips, Matt pulls himself away from the doorway and goes into the shower, turning on the cold water.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Are you ever going to continue the sarge and lil mama series ? Because I’ve been rereading it and I can’t stop reading, I’ve read it so many times already but I just can’t stop 😭

Nonnie, hello! Oh wow, the fact yall still remember and love this universe touches me so deeply. I’ve been wary of saying anything that could make anyone’s too hopeful about a return because I burned out so badly when I stopped and I know it was disappointing to many and I don’t wanna do that to everyone again! But, I really may go back. Knowing it’s wanted still, is huge to me. And recently I’ve been peaking at my drafts and I’ve been missing the kids, most of all? Funny to me, but I really have missed them and their developments. So it’s a strong maybe!

Here, have a sneak peak of what’s been in my drafts for ages. Ella’s coming of age fic:

“Oh Jesse, don’t be hard, come now, I’m beggin’ you!” Ella follows him as he stomps across the landing, she’s determined to wedge herself into his room before he shuts the door and all opportunity to beg is thwarted by locked wood. He’s been holing up in his room an awful lot these days, sulky, like everyone else in this house and she’s tired of it. His latest- abandoning Prom, is the great betrayal now tearing at her. It’s the one chance to get out of this rut, she’s been counting on it, been looking forward to it for ages.

“I’m not goin’, sorry, but I’m not.” Jesse tosses his hand in an apologetic gesture he learned from daddy, not once stopping his stride. He’s over the threshold now and she leans in, hands braced so that if he closes it, he’ll be pinching his sweet sister’s fingers. Sulky and out of sorts as he is, it’s still Jesse, and he’d never. “Ella Bug, I’m not gonna be talked out of my decision. I-I-I can’t take it, one more public appearance-“

“-it’s prom!” she cries, “Not jury duty!”

“Yeah, prom.” He repeats, disbelieving, “And the topic won’t be cars or college or even sex, it’ll be our parents. You don’t get it? You’re an idiot to go.”

Ella swallows hard, aware Jesse feels a martyr's superiority over everyone in this house at being invited to couple’s meetings and divorce proceedings and let into courtrooms while Ella was strategically burdened with banquets and charities and functions mama thinks won’t hurt her girlish mind so much. That clumsy kindness takes its own toll, the toll of having to act grateful and spared when you’re anything but. “It’s a sort of hell, you know,” she hisses, “Having to chat with all of those snobby old drunks, everywhere I go that’s all they ask about is her. At least you got your football-“

“-oh, oh it’s there, too.” Jesse scoffs, warming up for a twin-spat as only they ever seem to manage when given a moment's privacy, “Why, just last Tuesday, Gary Ingersoll offered to be my stepdaddy as soon as it was all finished.”

Ella sees regret for saying it in his face, soon as it’s out of his mouth. Blue eyes watery and mouth wobbling apologetically for being so ungentlemanly, so crass, getting into a competition of hurts with a lady, his little sister, at that. Whatever daddy’s faults, he certainly raised the sort of boy everyone else thinks the father is.

“Well you can imagine then, the absolute delight it is to be mama's little carbon copy during this time.” Ella snaps back, not at him so much as wanting to be heard for once, her cheerfulness is a facade and she’s about ready for someone to notice, “Those it doesn’t scare away, it draws, like creeps to a preschool. You wouldn’t imagine the pick up lines I’ve endured, actin’ like they’re picking her up, as if I’m not my own person. As if…it’s like they forget, I’m not the wife.”

“M’sorry.” Jesse mumbles contritely, “That’s gotta suck.”

“Oh it does!” she assures, “Exponentially.”

Jesse purses his lips and drums a baseline next to her own fingers on the doorframe. Her turtleneck suddenly feels stifling, despite the odd cold front that hit them in the middle of spring. Bleak March stomps in lead gray clouds across the sky and turns what bit off cheer the Bradford Pears gave into muddy dismalness. It’s awful, combined with the mood.

“-so, prom.” she reminds.

“Right, because proms are notoriously lacking in creeps.” Jesse laughs.

“More of the right kind!” She insists.

“Right kind?” he repeats, “It’s not gonna be like mama or daddy‘s heyday, everyone’s gonna be dancing awkwardly and passing time until they go screw. Sorry but it’s true. And in the meantime some acne-faced idiot will be talkin’ to you about your parents, if the girls don’t do it already. Meanly, mind.”

“They wouldn’t dare!” she balks, her dainty iron fist of popularity still rules that High School.

“Good! Then why do you need me?” Jesse turns and makes his way into his room, signaling a finish to his engagement.

“I don’t wanna be alone!” she begs, “It’s something to do together, we were always bound to have this memory!” he only looks dubious under his floppy hair and not at all moved, “And -you’re, I feel safe with you. Maybe I do need you. Everyone else, they’re either idiots, like ya said, or your friends. Bad dancing either way, it might end up being some fun if you were there.”

“All reasons not to go.” he points out, very kindly, from where he sits on his bed, mail clutched in his hand.

“Daddy has moved it up for us and everything,” she reminds him very quietly, “so it won’t get in the way of his schedule, so that he’ll be here! He’s making an effort!”

Jesse is quite used to gestures like a highschool getting bribed to throw prom months earlier than scheduled, just so the ole man can pin a boutonniere on Jesse’s chest and terrify whichever unlucky sod is Ella’s date. Something more moving would be him convincing mama not to divorce him. “I-I-it’s nice of him.” he agrees with a wince that tells Ella how much it cost him to say, “But -Ella, that makes it so much worse. Nobody is sayin’ it’s for Vegas, they’re sayin’ it’s for the court stuff- I’m not going. I’m sorry.”

It shouldn’t feel this devasting, having Jesse prove unable to pretend with her for a second, just one night, that it’s all turned out ok.

“You look so tired.” she sighs.

“I might take a nap.” he agrees.

He won’t, he’ll practice on his base as soon as she’s out of his room. “Ok.” she lets a dream go with stinging eyes.

“Ya know,” his soft call arrests her as she almost out the door, “mama didn’t have no prom.”

She turns back to him, surprised and unsure what the point is.

“I’m just sayin’-“ he waivers, “-you can be a great lady and have a nice life…without prom.”

“But I’m not mama.” she reiterates, firmly and annoyed, she was born a Presley, she was born to be prom queen and to be wanted and admired and loved.

Her plan to close the door, rather forcefully, when making her exit is stalled by his next comment, louder and challenging. “Then ask that Lieutenant guy, the one in California.”

“What?” she gapes, turning gingerly again to glare at him, at his presumption, at him knowing too much.

Jesse grins back, well wishing and honest in ways she can’t relate to. “If you’re gonna be a high and mighty little rich girl, do it properly. Get a man to take you, not one of those idiots. Make him wear his uniform, be your arm candy, and if it gets bad, he’s old enough to have a license and a car -hell, get him to fly you away if needs be. Make a scene.”

“I wouldn’t-“ Dare, she means, she wouldn’t dare. But now he’s suggested Johnny, the idea of anyone else accompanying her sounds as anti-climactic as Sandy’s crunchy lasagna.

“Oh c’mon!” he goads lovingly.

“Daddy wouldn’t-“

“Daddy is gonna try to scare the shit outta anyone takin’ you.” Jesse points out, “Might as well present him with someone who won’t mess up the floor. I mean, after all, sorry to break it to ya, but no matter who you go with, you ain’t gettin’ laid on prom night, Ella-“

“-how dare you!” she squeaks and rushes to shut the door in his laughing face, running to her own room with hands on her burning cheeks.

Five days later she’s still toying with the notion and trying to work up the bravery to both ask the man and be a little rebel when mama asks her of her plans point blank. Elaine Presley is ensconced in a plush jet seat, newspaper page turned to the crossword puzzle, eyebrow pencil brandished since none of these ignoramuses in the Mafia carry actual pencils. “Have you accepted anyone?” she presses.

“No.” Ella says, “Slim pickings.”

“No, really?” Mama is surprised, and she is right to be, Ella has had just about everyone at school asking her to go, so maybe it’s less of a case of slim pickings and more of a case of the pickings being slim. No one is intriguing, not after Johnny in the mustang and the gentle sexual innuendos. He was engaging, easily carried the conversation and just dangerous enough to be fun, he might even take liberties and Ella would finally get to know what all the fuss is about. She wasn’t sure anyone else would dare with Elvis Presley‘s daughter. “I’m sure you’ve been asked-“ mama starts to look worried, probably wondering if the divorce rumors have gotten so damaging they’ve ruined Ella’s dating life.

“Yes but they’re all sorta…”

“-soggy toast?” Mama suggests, knowing smile on her face and Ella sighs, it’s always easier with her than expected, just as it’s always harder with daddy than hoped for.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Well, it’s a little, off beat but-“ Elaine stipples her nails against the table top between them before shrugging “-you could ask somebody yourself. If you’ve got someone you’d like and trust and think would be fun. It is nineteen seventy six. So they keep telling me, at least, all bets are off.”

“Oh.” Ella can hear Jesse calling her a coward all the way from that first row of poofy seats as she sits there and doesn’t take the perfect segue into her wants.

“What about, uh, Sammy?” Mama asks, “Same class isn’t he?”

Ella gives her mother an incredulous look, the idea of Samuel Harrison taking her to prom somehow worse than wet toast. “He’s in love with Rosalee, I don’t want him to take me on a pity date!” she hisses.

“Is he really?” Mama perks up at this confession and Ella sighs, dismal at the thought of going with him and being abandoned five minutes in.

“Besides,” Ella deflects, “he’ll be with Jesse, probably on their stupid motorcycles while prom passes them by.”

Mama makes a sympathetic noise and stares out the window at the harsh light bouncing of cloud tops, her mouth twisted in thought. It’s now or never, so Ella ventures, “I was thinking of calling that Lieutenant I met.” she makes sure to say it as casually as possible, as if his name has slipped her mind.

[cyandreamz]

Cringetober day 13

Rule 63 (genderbent)

For a while I have considered drawing Miles Edgeworth genderbent because he's my fave aa character and I prefer drawing females but I held back because I knew I'd love drawing her too much and sure enough I was right XD

I named her Millie (I doubt I'm the first to do this it's a very obvious name choice) and if it wasn't already obvious I stole some design details from Franziska for Millie. I also had fun coming up with concepts based loosely on canon and my own hc's. For example, bratworth has more make up and long nails because bratworth looks more flashy in canon so in my mind the female version would wear more makeup and have long painted nails to stand out more.

Then for her regular version it's mostly same as canon, her hair is even short and fluffy because I hc Miles/Millie as having fluffy hair and after seeing Pink turnabout's amazing aa genderbent art (seriously go check that Tumblr out if you like aa fanart and cute shoujo art!). At first I did consider giving her a skirt but than decided to keep the pants, I hc Bratworth outfit has a skirt so not sure why she might of switched to pants, probably found them more practical or something like that.

Then I had to draw a Cheifworth Millie! She has a high ponytail with a red ribbon because my version of Cheifworth Miles has a ponytail of course >:3, currently not sure if I want her to wear a long pleated skirt or pants, I'll probably draw both and than decide which one I like better afterwards :-)

Of course after drawing Millie I had ideas for genderbent Phoenix (who I think will still be named Phoenix because that name is too iconic to change and I'm pretty sure it's gender neutral... right?) So I drew them. Main Phoenix of course has an outfit inspired both by Elle Woods iconic pink courtroom dress and Mia Fey's outfit. Than Feenie has shorter hair cuz canon Fennies hair is a lil shorter than his other versions and she's wearing a pink headband that I'd assume is a gift from her "boyfriend" (it's actually from genderbent Iris but she doesn't know that until years later), leading to her not wearing any hair accessories/hats until after she meets Iris and learns the truth behind her relationship because before than having things in her hair remind her to much of her ex :(. The 3rd drawing on the Phoenix page is loosely inspired by the end of case 1-3 when Phoenix is told to never show up in court again after Miles straight up rants about having feelings again after fanboying over Will Powers XD

Hope you all enjoy these designs and my very long commentary regarding them XD

[thefrenchydude]

Murderous Lust - Chapter 3 (part 1)

(Had to divide it, too much work :''') sorry, the other part will come out this week) (AND I didn't had the time to correct it neither ;-; sorry, I will do it soon.) (AND I will also complete some part of this chapter soon)

As they continued their journey deeper into the mountains, Reader's unease grew. The city of Auroria was gradually fading from view, and Reader couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. His gaze remained fixed on the distant city, almost as if he feared it would vanish in the blink of an eye.

Lex, ever perceptive to Reader's emotions, noticed the growing distress in his beloved's eyes. He tightened his embrace around his love, drawing him closer, as if to shield him from the mounting anxiety. With a tenderness that only deep love could inspire, Lex caressed Reader's arm in an effort to bring warmth and comfort in the chill of the mountain air.

Reader sighed softly, leaning into Lex's touch and finding solace in his embrace.

— I just can't shake this feeling, Lex. Reader admitted, his voice tinged with worry. Leaving the city behind like this, it's unsettling.

Lex pressed a gentle kiss to Reader's temple, his concern evident in his eyes.

— I understand, my love, he whispered reassuringly. But remember, I will stay by your side at every moment. Nothing can happens to you.

Reader slowly calmed down.

The winding mountain road led Reader and Lex higher into the magnificent mountains, where the air grew crisper, and the world seemed to be painted in hues of green and gold.

All around them the plains stretched as far as the eye could see. Reader had never traveled too far from the city. In fact, he'd never been out before. Too scared? No, just not suicidal. If the city was safe enough, the surrounding area was much less so. Reader had heard many stories of cargoes being attacked by demons. There were always few survivors, and the rest were often used as meals by demonic entities. And the kings did nothing about it. They had sworn to protect the city, not what layed around it. So the city had to adapt, trying to produce everything itself: fields for food, factories… Outside deliveries were rare and always very rough.

Reader was already thinking about how he could bring this problem to the kings, imagining that he could talk to them, which is no guarantee. Perhaps they invited him just to be polite, so Lex wouldn't end up alone.

The gaze of the two monkeys came back to him.

Lex tightened his embrace. Reader relaxed.

o0o

They crossed the water curtain and were led to the reception halls, where they knelt before their majesties Sun Wukong and Macaque. Immediately, Wukong raised his voice and ordered them to stand up.

Without waiting, he announced the start of their audience. Well, Lex's, since Wukong asked Reader to wait outside the courtroom. His voice had become softer as he spoke to Reader.

Lex gave Reader a reassuring look and Reader took a step back, worried at the thought of having to leave his side. Eventually, he left the room.

The doors closed, leaving Reader alone outside.

o0o

Wukong was struggling to contain his impatience.

It was just them now.

Him, Macaque and the homewrecker who'd stolen their peaches.

They wanted to break his neck, break every bone in his body for daring to touch what belonged to them.

But Macaque was right, they should try to approach the peaches slowly. Just as they had done in his other life. Killing Lex and stealing Reader would provoke many years of hatred and conflict. Especially since they were married. Not for long, Wukong thought, clearly annoyed by what the worm was telling him. He was discussing the future of the lower town, as if he cared. They'd already destroyed this village, they wouldn't mind doing it again. It would have saved them from having to go and save their miserable lives when the demons entered the city.

— Your Majesty? asked Lex, uncomfortable with the king's gaze, which grew darker and darker as he spoke. Is there something bothering you?

Wukong hated the sound of his voice. Oh, how he wanted to take his staff and bash that worm over the head to make his brain burst.

It took all his patience and strength to answer a simple "no" and not to jump at him.

Macaque, who was clearly more capable of restraint, remained silent as a grave. He watched Lex, wondering "why did Reader choose him?".

o0o

Not wanting to give in to the anxiety that was killing him, Reader decided to wander the corridors of the palace cave. But walking didn't help him to calm down, in fact quite the opposite. That's when he saw an opening to the outside. The same one they'd entered through before.

Reader decided to take a deep breath of fresh air and went to the gardens.

The gardens were magnificent. Peach trees rested in the vast, peaceful grounds. Reader wanted to taste the fruit, but didn't think it wise and refrained.

Then a chirping sound caught his eye: little monkeys were stirring, watching the newcomer from the branches. Little rhesus monkeys, Reader thought, remembering what he'd read about this mountain.

He watched them for a moment. The sight of being so cute soothed him. For a moment, he felt at peace - not completely, he couldn't forget that his husband was alone and so was he.

That was before Macaque arrived and greeted the reader.

Taken by surprise, Reader jumped up and turned a panicked gaze on Macaque, who immediately tried to reassure him. Assuring him that he hadn't trespassed and that he doesn't meant any harm. 

Reader really couldn't hear him coming, and it bothered him a lot. He didn't like being surprised.

Macaque sat down beside Reader. He remembered the first meeting with Peaches' first reincarnation.

Macaque talked to Reader. At first, Reader was very uncomfortable. But somehow, as the conversation progressed, he managed to relax.

The two of them ended up speaking frankly to each other, Reader even taking the liberty of making a few jokes which always drew a sincere laugh from Macaque.

At one point, Macaque paused, his gaze fixed on Reader's right hand. Macaque gently grabbed it and pulled it closer. There was a mark on it.

— Ha, it's a birthmark. 

— It's shaped like a bite mark, marveled Macaque.

Macaque was on the verge of tears. It reminded him of the first time they met...

After that, the two continued chatting.

o0o

Wukong came slowly towards them. He'd learned from his mistakes - for once - this time, he wouldn't be landing right in front of Reader. Last time that had frightened him. No, this time he'd settle for a less remarkable entrance, walking right up to him.

Reader tensed, but didn't panic.

He'd simply asked where Lex was, and Wukong replied that he'd sent him to write down all his ideas and plans for the city.

They talked for a long time, and by the time they'd finished, it was dark.

Before going to dinner, the two kings asked Reader if he wanted to visit the palace.

He wanted to decline. Politely. Claiming he had to get back to his husband's side. But it would have been impolite to refuse, and it would surely have affected their relationship with Lex.

Perceiving his hesitation, the kings insisted, assuring him it wouldn't last too long.

And so Reader agreed.

They went from room to room. There were so many, Reader suddenly felt as if he was in a labyrinth.

As they walked, the three of them were having a wonderful time. The kings were so friendly with Reader that he even forgot what they were : Powerful demons king.

They ended their visit in one of the palace's largest rooms.

— The vault?!? exclaimed Reader.

Mountains of wealth stretched far beyond view.

Wukong puffed up his chest, a flamboyant, charming smile on his lips. He knew this room would amaze him. Who wouldn't be fascinated by so much wealth?

— Several thousand years of treasures and relics have been amassed here, Macaque explained, caught by Reader's look of wonder.

Wukong moved closer to Reader and put his hand on his shoulder.

In reality, Wukong was burning with the desire to simply grab him, put him in the pillows nest, cover him with kisses, mark him with his burning bites, hold him against him, make him his own.

— Your Majesty? Reader asked, seeing Wukong blushing.

Wukong cleared his throat.

He had to stick to the plan. To make Reader fall in love with him and Macaque.

The visit finished, they walked to the diner room.

— If it's not inappropriate, may I know a little more about the one you loved? Reader asked, feeling quite at ease.

Wukong still remembered the sound of crushed bones as the demon devoured Reader's remains. A few seconds, just a few seconds, and they'd lost everything. It would never happen again.

Macaque told an idyllic version of their life with Reader, omitting the kidnapping, the fights and her horrible death.

The meal went by without Lex, who must still have been busy.

Then he was shown to his room, a single bed, where he would sleep alone tonight.

Reader slept extremely badly, he was used to Lex's arms holding him close.

At dawn, the sun awoke Reader.

A monkey guard came to inform him that Lex was leaving for the city. An emergency. So urgent that Lex hadn't even had time to notify Reader of his departure. Lex would return as soon as the emergency was resolved.

Reader felt very worried and alone. What could this emergency be? Had Lex arrived in town safely?

Someone came to inform him about breakfast.

(This chapter, story and au, is inspired by the Twice as bad au from @semisolidmind) (I hope y'all liked it, sorry for the delay again, have a great day/night)

<previous - next>

[box-dwelling]

So I can't animate or draw well enough to do this but I do think the world needs a Krisnix No children animatic. So a breakdown/story board plan and idk maybe I'll make it as practice for some of the comic stuff I want to do.

I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us: Edgeworth and Maya desperately trying to contact Phoenix who is ignoring their calls. Maybe including Edgeworth insisting that Phoenix would never forge evidence to lead into the next line

I hope we come up with a fail safe plot to piss of the dumb few that forgave us: Phoenix forging the ace and then a reference to SL9 dagger to hammer home what that would mean to Edgeworth

I hope the fences we mended: Kristoph being the only vote in favour of him

Fall down beneath their own weight: Kristoph doing the small manipulative smile with the diary page in the background

And I hope we hang on past the last exit: Phoenix meeting Trucy

I hope it's already too late: Kristoph watching Phoenix losing the badge

I hope the junk yard a few block from here some day burns down: the courtroom burning

And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away and I never come back to this town again: Phoenix going to Europe with Edgeworth

In my life: warmer colours come in as we get a little close up of Edgeworth seeing Phoenix and smiling

I hope I lie: warm colours gone Kristophs black psyche locks

And tell everyone you were a good wife: Phoenix telling Edgeworth about Kristoph while smiling. Colours are muted but still brighter than the rest

And I hope you die: back to black. them dining. Kristoph speaking

I hope we both die: same but Phoenix speaking

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow: Kristoph killing Zak (not the best line for but idk what else to put and this works for the general narrative flow)

I hope it bleeds all day long: Phoenix in the detention center

Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises: trucy, with Apollo entering in the background

We're pretty sure they're all wrong: Phoenix getting decked by Apollo

I hope it stays dark for ever: Kristoph in his cell, wanting to keep what he did in the dark

I hope the worst isn't over: Phoenix post turnabout trump working on Mason

And I hope you blink before I do: spilt screen of Kristoph reading in his cell and Phoenix working on Mason

And I hope I never get sober: Grape juice on the desk beside Phoenix's computer

And I hope when you think of me years down the line: Phoenix in his new suit with the full WAA found family.

you can't find one good thing to say: Athena finds the nail polish bottle, Phoenix scowls while Klavier gets a hug from Apollo and Trucy looks forelorn

And I'd hope that I ever found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way: Phoenix getting his badge back

I am drowning, there is no sign of land, You are coming down with me, Hand in unloveable hand, And I hope you die: Kristoph screaming this as he has his breakdown

I hope we both die: Phoenix putting away the hoodie and putting the beanie on the shelf and pouring the grape juice down the sink. Symbolically killing that version of himself

Writing this out I do really want to do it but if anyone else beats me to it, I'd love to see it because I am Bad at Art and while this could be fun practice seeing someone more skilled make this would be awesome too, though I'd appreciate being tagged so I can see it

[rock-and-compass]

Angel - Episode 5.11 – Damage

Precursor - I wrote about the fifth season of Angel many years ago - probably around the time that the season 8 comics were first being published. I originally published these meta essays over on LiveJournal and I've decided to re-post them (as written), mostly for archival reasons. I love season 5 of Angel. It's such a shame it got axed before it could get the envisioned 6th and 7th series

Once upon a time there was a little girl called Dana. She was a nice, normal little girl with a nice, normal life. But when she was ten years old her family was brutally murdered. Dana was abducted, imprisoned for months on end during which time she was abused and tortured by the killer. Somehow, she managed to escape but she was never the same again. She was damaged beyond repair. The kindest thing that could be done for Dana was to put her in an institution and keep her sedated to give her poor, tormented soul some peace. Somewhere, deep in her numbed brain, she dreamed. She dreamed dreams of girls and monsters and heroics and death. Those dreams stayed locked inside. She was safe in her tranquilised refuge; safe from monsters and murderers and molesters and…dreams.  She was safe for fifteen years. And then, suddenly, things changed. . . Damage is an episode about consequences, seen and unseen. It’s about the past, present and future colliding, intersecting, converging, reminding us of the influence each one exerts over the other, of choices made, of roads taken, of regrets, of mistakes and how we are complex products of these interactions. As Darla once said with great effect:

“What we once were informs all that we have become.”

Damage opens with a minor crisis at a psychiatric ward. There has been a mix-up with the medication; Phillip has been given Thorazine, a sedative, instead of his usual Lithium. The doctor on call wants to know who got the Lithium by mistake. His question is answered by the sound of crashing and banging coming from one of the rooms. The banging stops. With the silence the doctor and nurses breathe a sigh of relief. It's short lived. At the far end of the corridor a door is thrown violently off its hinges to reveal a crazed young woman, breathing heavily and looking menacing. She walks from her cell towards the doctor and his assistants. They back off; keen to get away from the dangerous patient. The girl sees a hypodermic syringe in the doctor’s hand, senses danger and attacks. She punches and orderlies as the doctor retreats. A guard tries to retaliate but makes no impact on the girl. She sees a surgical implement, a saw, on a nearby trolley; she grabs it and cuts purposefully into the neck of one of the men. The clearly audible cracking and crunching of the bone and cartilage leaves no doubt, she has decapitated him. With bloodied fingers she ritualistically draws five lines down her face. It’s primitive and brutal.

Gunn walks the corridor of Wolfram and Hart like he owns the place, cell phone glued to his ear, legalistic jargon rolling off his tongue. He’s confident, Über confident; so confident that he’ll take on the District Attorney to win his case. Fred wonders if this is wise, but hey, what’s a D.A. compared to the power of Wolfram and Hart? Gunn was given the power of knowledge by the firm and he’s proving himself the most adept of the former Angel Investigations team at embracing, not only the gift but the opportunity that the move to Wolfram and Hart afforded. He tells Fred that half the cases that cross their desks are settled on the golf course and never see the inside of a courtroom:

Fred: Nine holes instead of a jury of your peers. Just what the founding fathers had in mind. Gunn: Well, sometimes you gotta work the system before it works you

And Gunn’s certainly working the system. Not for him are trivial ideals such as the constitutional right to legal voice and the principles of democracy. He’s got power; he made a choice to use it. But still he feels the need to defend his belief, his faith in what they are doing:

>Gunn:  Look, I know our move to Wolfram & Hart hasn't been all flowers and candy, but we've been able to do some serious good while we're here. Lives saved, disasters averted, with all our fingers and souls still attached. End of the day, I'm thinking we made the right choice.

Some serious good, even if the rules have to be bent to achieve it. For Gunn, the end justifies the means. But Angel’s not so sure. He’s back to thinking they made a mistake in coming here. The events of Soul Purpose have got him wondering, thinking, got him looking inward and not liking what he sees. Got him questioning why they are there – yet again. And yet again he can’t enlighten his team. That would necessitate a rather awkward explanation. Leading to all kinds of “you did what to our memories?!” But the truth is safe for the moment. They are all too preoccupied with Eve and her suspected betrayal to question Angel about his concerns with their tenancy at Wolfram and Hart. The rest of the team wants her fired, can’t believe that Angel hasn’t done it already. Gunn warns against such rash action using lawyer-talk words like ‘alleged’ and ‘evidence’ and the promise of a long bloody fight with her if they make a premature move. And that hits home. She’s not the ideal person to let loose with a burning grudge. She knows a thing or two about Angel and his awkward secret that he really doesn’t want to become public knowledge, ever. He concedes that Gunn’s safely-safely approach is their only option. Harmony breaks into the deliberations with news of an escapee from a psychiatric hospital. It’s of concern to Wolfram and Hart because of the suspicion that the patient in question is demonically possessed. They’ve had a few of these cases before, it requires finesse, so Angel will handle it. He goes to the hospital alone to assess the situation. 

At the hospital two lifts open in perfect unison to reveal not only Angel in one, but Spike in the other. It is a great analogy for the rest of the episode and indeed Spike and Angel themselves, arriving at the same destination from very different routes… but more on that later. The coincidence makes Spike laugh and wonder if Angel is checking himself in after the little parasite messed with his brain. Angel finds no humour in the situation:

Angel:  What are you doing here Spike?  Spike:  Didn't get the memo? Hero of the people now.  Angel:  Oh, then go and annoy them.  Spike:  When I'm done. Heard one of the simples went for a stroll.  Angel:  And I'll get her back without your help.  Spike:  Goody for you, 'cause, uh, not offering it.  Angel:  Look, shouldn't you be out in the streets, you know, protecting the city from people like you? Spike:  Go where I'm needed.  Angel: Well, which isn't here.

In just five lines of dialogue Angel manages to speak five phrases of dismissal to Spike. He makes it patently clear that he doesn’t want his wayward ‘grandchild’ anywhere in the vicinity of his person, has no faith in his ability to do the job and expresses his doubt that Spike has changed at all. Despite his best-efforts Angel fails in his objective. Spike stubbornly stays though now with a freshly fueled desire to prove the old bastard wrong. Again. They both get shown the escapee’s room. The walls are covered with child-like drawings of monsters and beasts, many of whom are being confronted by a lone girl. The doctor explains the circumstances of the case:

Doctor: She was a special case. Her family was murdered in their home when she was 10. Whoever did it took Dana... and tortured her for months. She was found one day naked and bleeding, wandering the streets. Barely functional, nearly catatonic ever since…. Several months ago her condition changed. Increasing levels of agitation accompanied by explosive outbursts of inhuman strength.

Spike decides on demon possession as the likely explanation (although why he doesn't hit on the obvious answer is a bit frustrating, character-wise). The doctor ridicules the suggestion, and Angel agrees that he’s not helping, consequently Spike rushes off with no forethought as to what he’s actually going to do, just determination to find the girl, to show Angel what he’s made of, the impetuousness of youth in action. Angel is not so easily satisfied. Experience tells him there’s more to know and he wants the full story and he needs to help her, because she’s a little girl robbed from her family, taken into hell, deranged by the experience. To Angel, at this moment, she’s not Dana, she’s Connor, lost and needing to be rescued. It cuts too close to home. 

One of the nurses turns out to be a fount of information. It seems that the doctor has videotaped all his sessions with Dana and she’s only too happy to show him if it means she can get her foot in the door at Wolfram and Hart, that’s why she tipped them off in the first place. 

As Angel watches videos, Dana stands in a grocery store eating cakes straight from the packet. The clerk tells her, quite nicely, that she’ll have to pay for them, but Dana has no patience for the interference. She grabs his arm and twists it obscenely until it breaks, sending the unsuspecting boy to his knees in pain. Completely immune to the fact that she’s just maimed the store clerk, Dana walks over to the clothes section. She selects jeans and a black t-shirt. Looking at the t-shirt triggers a flashback, a memory of a man also wearing a black t-shirt, walking past a cringing little girl, walking to a tool bench, looking at various, bloodied implements, choosing a saw, standing over the little girl with the promise of threat and menace.  An armed security guard corners Dana, points his gun at her nervously. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Dana has no such compunction. As soon as she feels threatened, she reacts. It’s instinctive. Trouble is she hasn’t the capacity to distinguish between help and harm. And as she leaves the supermarket wearing her freshly appropriated clothing, we see that her saw, the one she took from the hospital, is covered in fresh blood. We don’t think the security guard survived his encounter with Dana. 

On the doctor’s videotapes are recordings of Dana during her therapy sessions. She’s wild and uncontrollable, so much so that she’s straight jacketed. She spews forth frenzied, unintelligible rants in a multitude of languages. She’s like a caged animal. She does seem possessed. Then they come to a segment that Angel understands; it’s Romani. He understands it all too well and it brings enlightenment, helps him understand what they are dealing with. So, Dana morphs again, metaphorically speaking. No longer his relinquished son, suddenly she’s taking him further back, right back to a Gypsy girl, to a curse and the very beginnings of ‘Angel’ as opposed to ‘Angelus’ and she’s why he has to do what he does. Make amends, balance the scales. She’s the embodiment of victims' past – every single one of them. 

The police have swarmed to the supermarket. Ambulances are in attendance too. But there is no sign of Dana, just the bloody mess she left behind. Spike arrives, assesses the scene quickly, surreptitiously drops to the pavement, touches the blood, inhales the scent and walks away. He’s got vampire senses and he’s not afraid to use them.  Angel takes a much more detached approach. He calls Wesley, orders back-up; a ‘technical assault team’ with a ‘non-lethal ordinance’. Angel has Wolfram and Hart resources and he’s not afraid to use them. Was there ever any other way?

But Spike finds her faster - wants to fight the demon out of the poor, mistreated little girl. He slips into game face, which as it turns out was not the best move to make. Angel reveals to Wesley that Dana is not possessed, she’s not a demon, in the videos she was yelling about being chosen. She’s a vampire slayer. 

Dana looks at Spike and smiles; it’s a little maniacal sure, but it exudes confidence. He’s toast. She has no fear. She was born to kill these fiends. She’s a slayer. Spike and Dana fight. He still thinks he’s trying to get a demon to appear. But she knows the rules. She grabs a splinter of wood and tries to plunge it into his chest. He grabs her hand and prevents the piercing. She speaks to him in Chinese, words he’s heard before. He even replies with the exact same words he used over one hundred years ago, “Sorry love, I don’t speak Chinese”, but still he doesn’t realise, doesn’t make the connection with what has gone before. He doesn’t realise that he’s been thrust back in time and is fighting his slayer from the Boxer Rebellion all over again. This one has a different outcome. Spike ends up being thrown out a window, landing with a thud and a shower of glass on the concrete below as Angel finally arrives on the scene.

Somewhere between that alley and the Wolfram and Hart office Angel tells Spike exactly what the problem is; a psychotic slayer:

Angel:  And you let her get away.  Spike: At least I was trying to stop her.  Angel: Oh, how'd that work out?  Spike: At least I know the game, now, don't I? I killed two slayers with my own hands. Think I can handle one that's gone daft in the melon. 

Those slayers are still his claim to fame, even with the soul. They are something that even the great Angelus can’t boast. Once it was about killing them, chasing the most challenging fights, fights with no certainty of victory, for the sheer thrill. Now he’s saying he can find Dana because he knows slayers; knows them better than Angel. But Angel doesn’t want his help:

Angel: You're not handling anything, Spike. OK? Wes contacted Rupert Giles. He's sending his top guy to retrieve her

Notice that word ‘retrieve’ - “He's sending his top guy to retrieve her”, we’ll come back to that later too. They enter the conference room. Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne are already assembled. Oh, and Rupert Giles’ “top guy” is none other than Andrew, one time third of the evil trio who was reluctantly adopted into Buffy’s gang after he expressed willingness to alter his wicked ways. Andrew spins around in his swivel chair and is stunned to see Spike. He’s happy to see Spike . . . okay ecstatic might be more accurate:

Andrew: Spike?  It's you. It's really you! My therapist thought I was holding onto false hope, but... I knew you'd come back. You're like... you're like Gandalf the White, resurrected from the pit of the Balrog, more beautiful than ever. Ohh... he's alive, Frodo. He's alive. 

Andrew holds Spike in an emotional embrace, touches his face in awe and wonder then hugs him again and Spike … lets him. No words of rejection, no words designed to humiliate. Oh sure, Spike’s a little discomfited by this public display of affection but he doesn’t tell Andrew to stop. He endures it with good grace. Angel watches all this closely, with a guarded expression on his face. Here he is forced to see another perspective of Spike via someone who loves and values him, who is happy that he has managed to defy the ultimate death. And it has to be said, the comparison to Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings trilogy is priceless. Gandalf, a hobbit loving wizard, prone to bad habits that prevented his ascension to higher status until the sacrifice of his life to save his companions allows him to finally move from ‘grey’ to ‘white’. That someone, (including by implication Buffy) might view Spike as this glorious is strange and disturbing to Angel. It’s yet another contradiction to his staunchly held belief that Spike is incapable of change and that the whole ‘good’ Spike is nothing but a charade. Additionally, it’s also a little bit more confirmation of all those subconscious fears he's been feeling - fears of irrelevancy, failure, fears he’s been battling since he made the deal with Wolfram and Hart, that were exacerbated by Spike’s big comeback. Andrew, of course, wants to know how this is possible, but Angel, not wanting to be reminded of Spike’s other claim to fame, tells them to save the trip down memory lane for later. 

Andrew, ever the storyteller, gives the group the low down on slayer mythology. Nothing they didn’t already know, except for a deeper explanation of the phenomenon of slayer dreams (as shown in the original film of Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and how potential slayers experience vivid dreams of the heroics of slayers past as preparation for the possibility of becoming the one and only Chosen One. Dana is therefore at the mercy of her dreams. She has no capacity to separate fantasy from reality, dream slayers from herself, past from present. 

Andrew’s approach to Angel and his people does him no favours. He adopts his storytelling persona, imparts information that is known, cheekily denigrates Wesley and his ex-watcher status. It is quite clear that he is not Giles’ ‘top guy’ and Team Angel must suspect that they have been fobbed off with a substitute. Angel is openly sarcastic while the others snicker and roll their eyes at his antics. Lorne gets the discussion back on track by asking:

Lorne: Uh, wait. So if there's only one slayer, what is little miss whack-your-head-off doing scampering around? 

But hang on, didn’t Lorne spend a good portion of the season four episode “Orpheus” (A4.15) nursing Faith, a second vampire slayer, as she fought the effects of a powerful demon drug? Is this forgetfulness a consequence of the memory wipe or an inelegantly phrased inquiry as to Faith’s possible demise? (Or, the short memory of the script writer?) To answer the question, “Little Sunnydale surprise” Spike supplies with a nod of his head towards Andrew, encouraging him to continue with his tale:

Andrew:  Six months ago, Buffy, Vampyr Slayer extraordinaire, had her lesbian witch make with the beaucoup de magie. One light show later...  Angel: All the potentials become slayers. 

It is open to interpretation as to whether Angel knew about the ‘Sunnydale surprise’ beforehand. If his words are read as completing Andrew’s explanation then, he does indeed already know about it but has failed to share this information with anybody in his team, not even Wesley, who as a former Watcher would naturally be interested in such a huge development. If his words are translated as anticipating the rest of Andrew’s sentence, then this means that he didn’t know and that he’s only learning about it now along with everybody else. This would also mean that Buffy hadn’t told him - Told him about Spike’s demise, but not about the expansion of the sisterhood. Either way, kinda big details are being left out by somebody. Wesley is full of admiration for the strategy describing it as ‘brilliant’. But then by wondering how hundreds of slayers could possibly receive their proper training without the aid of the Watcher’s Council betrays his stance on how the Watcher-Slayer dynamic should work. Once a Watcher…

But Wes need not worry; Mr. Giles and a few key Sunnydale alumni have been busy rounding up the recently chosen. Andrew claims Dana is an anomaly that no one could have foreseen but that’s not strictly true. Surely the possibility that not every potential was equipped for a life of Slayerdom should have occurred to them? During season seven of Buffy the potentials that arrived at Revello Drive came from very different spheres of life, different circumstances. Transfer this to a world scale, post-empowerment and it is not only possible, but indeed likely that some chosen ones would have problems or issues that make them unsuitable for the duty. And, hey, does anyone remember an ‘anomaly’ called Faith? Surely her history alone made the possibility of a ‘Dana’ or others like her a realistic consideration. 

What we are really seeing here is the consequences of the Sunnydale spell. In season seven, Buffy came up with the idea of empowering the potentials as a last resort. She had a mission and that’s all that mattered. Her need was immediate. Magically activating the Potentials allowed her to wage war on behalf of the world. She gave a stirring speech, offered them a choice, and gave them power. That was fine for the girls who were there, in the living room with Buffy but the spell was far more far reaching, affecting girls all over the world and therefore so are the consequences. Dana is one exploration of this, ‘The Chain'' written by Joss Whedon (Dark Horse Comics, Season 8, #5) is another in which the unnamed Slayer specifically says she didn’t get a choice, she got chosen. The empowerment spell was not all cake and ice-cream because, as Spike once warned, there are always consequences with magic. Unfortunately for Dana, the result of the empowerment is that she’s no longer an innocent victim, kept quiet and safe in her hospital ward, now she is a murderer, a super strong killer with no moral boundaries. Her power has allowed her to choose (with her impaired capabilities) not to be weak, but in doing so she chooses to use that strength to kill. 

So, when they put all the information together, Dana’s sudden awakening, the super strength, the dreams, the languages, the instinctual ability, it all makes perfect sense:

Spike: Explains why that skirt was yapping at me in Chinese. Must've thought she was the slayer I took out back in the Boxer Rebellion.

Causing Angel to take a pot shot from his vantage point way, way up on the high moral ground: 

Angel: You mean the slayer you murdered. 

Like he’s innocent of heinous crimes just because he hasn’t killed a slayer! It’s like the proverbial pot calling the kettle black. And one might argue that in the case of slayers, at least Spike went for targets that knew the score, could fight back, defend themselves, and had a better than average chance of actually winning. And for Spike, with the risk came the thrill. Not like Angelus who chose his victims for entirely different purposes. Different routes, same objective, even when they were evil. Spike excuses his past actions by virtue of the fact that he didn’t have a soul then to which Angel replies:

Angel: Right, 'cause having one now is making such a difference

It’s the ultimate insult. The denigration of his hard-won soul is too much for Spike to take and once again, Angel’s slur drives him from the room. He leaves the corporates to it, determined to get the job done himself. To his credit, Angel seems to realise that he’s gone too far. He follows Spike into the foyer to stop his rash departure, arguing that they are the last two people who should be confronting Dana because she is a slayer who doesn’t understand the existence of good Vampyrs, and that she exists solely to kill their kind:

Spike:  Dance of death. Eternal struggle. Right. Got it.

He’s danced this dance before; it’s all he’s ever done. 

Angel: You will...when she's staking you in the heart. 

And if we suspected it before, thought we sensed the echo, now we’re certain. A conversation had in a mineshaft over a hundred years before still resonates with meaning and significance all the way here in the twenty-first century:

Spike: Yeah, you know what I prefer to being hunted? Getting caught. Angelus: That's a brilliant strategy really... pure cunning. Spike: Sod off! Come on. When was the last time you unleashed it? All out fight in a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs? Don't you ever get tired of fights you know you're going to win? Angelus: No. A real kill. A good kill. It takes pure artistry. Without that, we're just animals.

The threat of a stake doesn’t deter the impetuous Spike. He quickly corrects Angel’s misconception that he doesn’t know what he’s dealing with: 

Spike: What do you want me to do? Go all boo-hoo 'cause she got tortured and driven out of her gourd? Not like we haven't done worse back in the day.  Angel: Yeah, and it's something I'm still paying for.  Spike: And you should let it go, mate. It's starting to make you look old

One can’t get his eyes off the victims, only with the soul they afford no pleasure; it translates into infinite remorse, it drives his quest for redemption. The other can’t spare a backward glance. The thrill was in the chase, the fight and besides, that guy, the one who did that bit-o-bad, he simply doesn’t exist anymore, won’t return, no need to look back is there, can’t change it anyway. Again, we have a situation in which Spike and Angel could learn a lesson from the other. Angel is too fixated with what he was, what he still could be. While for Spike the occasional look behind him would subdue that well practiced arrogance and increase his compassion for the helpless he’s trying to help.

Dana is down at the docks. She’s alone and she’s scared and remembering the past; a dark room, a metal box, herself as a child, screaming. The memories upset her. A dock worker sees her, asks her if she needs some help. He’s trying to help but Dana doesn’t understand. At Wolfram and Hart Angel has the team on deck but its slow going:

Angel: M-maybe Spike was right. Maybe we should just get out there and find her. 

Okay, so when Spike’s not around Angel can admit he’s not a complete moron and also, maybe, he’s just a little bit envious, that Spike’s out there working the streets while he’s constrained by his gilded cage. But Fred asks a pertinent question. Then what? What do they do with her once they’ve found her? It does raise the question of what Spike will do with her once he finds her; suspect he didn’t think that far ahead.  He’s too determined to prove a point to think about minor details like how to restrain a psychotic vampire slayer. Even with Wolfram and Harts copious resources there is no quick fix, no way to find the girl with any precision. Lorne suggests talking to the house where it all began, Dana’s childhood home. Angel wants to get Andrew in on the plan, but he is nowhere to be found. Andrew, of course, has followed his hero.

Spike: What are you doing out here, Andrew?  Andrew:  This is where the action is, bro, on the mean streets. Can you dig it? 

Spike makes one attempt to get Andrew to go away because there is no time for games, this is a serious situation, but Andrew argues that he’s changed too. He’s stronger, faster, 82% more manly but ruins the effect by tripping over Dana’s latest victim (the unfortunate dock worker) and going to jelly.

At Dana’s house Angel and Lorne have enlisted the services of a psychic to communicate with the house. He touches the walls and feels fear, pain and anguish, sees flashes of Dana’s parents and a baby sibling being tormented and killed. He needed them to suffer. And for a fleeting moment we feel the presence of Angelus, another killer who needed his victims to suffer. They share a modus operandi. The psychic continues. He sees a flash of a little girl, trying to be invisible, silent as she hides under the bed, but the predator senses her all the same. Suddenly there’s the shadow of a little girl in a coal bin trying to be quiet (Crush, B5.14) and do you have any idea of what he’s done to girls Dawn’s age (Never Leave Me, B7.09). It’s not difficult to realise that Dana could be the product of Angel or Spike. That Dana is a prime example of the handy-work they used to undertake, that they were experts in the art of killing. It’s easy to forget what they were, back in the day, but Dana reminds us. It can be uncomfortable having a couple of vampires as the central heroes of the text. But the psychic is able to provide one last pair of clues – molasses and a basement.

Dana descends some stairs to a dingy, dirty basement. It’s a place she knows. She has returned to the scene of the crime, to where her pain lives. She goes to an old vent, removes the grill and retrieves a metal box. In the box is a collection of vials and hypodermic syringes. As she looks at the contents of the box she has a flash of memory, of a man taking a needle, preparing it for use. ”Let’s try the blue one this time”, says her captor as he kneels before a trembling little Dana. And then we see what we’ve been half expecting. Her tormentor is Spike. 

Andrew and Spike walk along the docks and finally we get some news on the Scoobies, even if it is just a smidgen. Xander is in Africa, Willow is in Brazil. Giles is most likely in London, judging by the Union Jack on Andrew’s sandwich bag. Andrew asks what blood smells like; Spike tells him it is metallic, like sucking on a penny. But it’s not the topic of conversation that’s interesting here, it’s the communication. Andrew asks a question, Spike answers. No sarcasm, no annoyance, just honest answers. It allows Spike to ask about the one person he really wants to know about:

Spike: So, uh...you heard from Buffy lately?  Andrew: Yeah. Of course, uh...she's in Rome. Dawn's in school there. Italian school. 

Apparently she was rounding up slayers in Italy and decided she liked it. She needed a break from California. And the other Scoobies, judging by the far-flung locations of the globe they are all residing. Then Andrew realises:

Andrew: …Wait a minute. She doesn't know you're alive, does she?  Spike:  I don't think so. I mean... I don't know. Does she?  Andrew: No. N-no. She can't. I mean... I—I would've heard about it. We would've had a conference call. Why haven't you told her?  Spike: "Hello, Buffy. It's Spike. I didn't burn up like you thought. How are things?"  Andrew: Uh...do you want me to tell her? 'Cause I—I'm really good with those...uh, delicate personal—  Spike: No. Don't tell her. I'll take care of it.

But he doesn’t. Spike doesn’t tell Buffy that he’s alive and other things get in the way, and we’re left with the assumption that Andrew does in fact spill the beans because by the time Spike and Buffy do come face to face once more, she knows and has known for some time (Season 8 #36/37).  So, they continue to walk the mean streets together. Dana watches them from a rooftop very much as Spike did to Angel in `In the Dark” (A1.03). The hunted has become the hunter.

So, what we really have here is a study of two relationships. Two sets of metaphorical brothers if you will. The first Angel and Spike have a long and checkered history. It’s a relationship that has been founded on a hierarchy, a dominance-subservience dynamic that has tainted the whole connection. It’s competitive, it’s untrusting, it’s sometimes violent. It brings out the worst in both Angel and Spike. Angel is always at his petty best, his most arrogant, his most dictatorial when Spike is in the room. And Spike, well he is just painfully obnoxious, annoying and snarky whenever Angel is in the vicinity. We know it’s just Angel that brings out these traits so profoundly. The writers have been at pains to show us this. His dealings with other people, with Fred, with Pavaynne, with Eve, with Lindsey and with Andrew demonstrate this. When he’s interacting with others, good, bad or indifferent, then we get to see the real Spike, Buffy season seven Spike. The really affecting aspect of Spike and Angel’s relationship is that, beneath the surface, beneath the cycle of rejection, vicious words and taunting there is real longing. While this is particularly obvious on Spike’s side it’s not completely absent from Angel either. Spike longs for recognition and acceptance from Angel, wants it more than just about anything.  Angelus was always a source of inspiration to the younger vampire and the addition of a soul, and a change of team hasn’t changed that. But for Angel, Spike has the potential to be an ally, someone who understands what it means to be a vampire with a soul in this world of evil. He is a source of hope that the demon inside can be defeated, he is a son to be proud of, he’s a legacy… and yet, Angel cannot bring himself to see anything but what was. Angel has his blinkers on and refuses to take them off, so the relationship is prevented from moving forward because of Angel’s steadfast refusal to accept that Spike has changed and acknowledge him as an equal. So instead, it stays mired in the same repetitive, unproductive pattern of butting heads, mocking and denial. 

In complete contrast to this is the Spike and Andrew dynamic. Spike and Andrew’s relationship is of a shorter duration and is certainly not as intense as Spike and Angel’s is, but it can still teach a lesson or two. Spike first encountered Andrew when he asked Warren Mears to examine his chip in “Smashed” (B6.09). Unbeknownst to Spike, Andrew, Jonathan and Warren had recently decided to team up to become super villains and take over Sunnydale. Andrew made no impact on Spike whatsoever, but the vampire left a strong impression on Andy. In “Entropy” (B6.18) when the trio see a video feed of Spike and Anya engaged in sexual intercourse, Andrew’s first observation is that Spike is ‘so cool’. Later when he’s doing the First Evil’s bidding in “Sleeper” (B7.08) he dresses like Spike to build confidence, long leather duster and all. In “Never Leave Me” (B7.09), Spike, himself under the influence of the First, takes a great hulking chunk out of Andrew’s neck. For the remainder of the season, they are two of the many house guests at Revello Drive, Andrew as a ‘guestage’ and Spike as the basement dwelling vampire in residence. In Empty Places (B7.19) they are sent on a covert mission together to find out more about the evil Caleb. Where others at the house lose patience with Andrew easily, Spike displays tolerance and fortitude (except when it is finally exhausted by a not very inspiring game of 'I Spy'). There is a lot of sub-textual empathy there too. Both know what it is like to be rejected, outsiders on the periphery of the Scoobies. Andrew lives vicariously through popular culture and Spike, the television addict, gets all those references, understands why he does it – he just keeps his inner geek on a much tighter leash than Andrew does. You see, in Andrew, Spike sees his human-self reflected. Andrew is what William would have been had he been born 150 years later. Where William expressed himself through bad poetry, so Andrew expresses himself through analogy with comics and films; each is a geek, but one that is a product of their time. This connection, this similarity is particularly strong in this episode. The physical resemblance between Andrew and Spike, (in the flashbacks to 1880 in Destiny) the hair, the colouring, are too obvious to ignore. Andrew here is Spike’s metaphorical little brother and Spike could give Angel a lesson on how this brother thing is done. Patience, kindness, acceptance, honesty; these are the things that productive relationships are based on and Spike and Andrew show it.

Angel is back at the office and believes the key to finding Dana is to know more about her abductor, his name, his past, his whereabouts. Meanwhile Andrew and Spike have followed the trail of Dana into a dead end. Dana appears, knocks Spike aside and as Andrew is about to shoot her with a tranquiliser dart, knocks him out cold with a swift kick. Dana turns tail and runs out of the alley. Spike gets to his feet and chases after her. Dana lures him into her basement. She stands on the far side of the room looking nervous, scared. Spike tells her that he’s got her scent locked in, could track her for miles. “No escaping” Dana observes. “No escaping” Spike concurs. But exactly who’s not escaping is not so clear. No escaping for little Dana chained in the basement, no escaping for Spike who has been deliberately lured there, no escaping for slayer Dana who is a danger to herself and anyone unlucky enough to cross her path. This basement is the point of convergence for so many past events, it’s no wonder the roles get a bit confused.

In his approach to Dana Spike is surprisingly calm and gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he even tells Dana he used to date a girl who wasn’t all there to try and gain her confidence, put her at ease. He also tries to explain why she has the visions, why she’s confused about who she is. But Dana is beyond comprehending any of this, she has too many personas fighting for control, confusing her:

Dana: Heart...and head. Have to get home. Doesn't hurt if you hold still

She talks as the slayer she is; a slayer past; as victim; as predator. And for Spike it’s not that much better. For him Dana represents mad Drusilla, the Chinese slayer, Niki Woods and Buffy all rolled into one. All these women who’ve in some way shaped and defined who he was, challenging him to redefine who he is now. Dana recognises him as what he was:

Dana: William the Bloody.  Spike:  No. No. No. That's not gonna lead anywhere good. You want to focus on what's real.

You want to focus on what’s real. Sure, it’s real enough that he killed the slayers once upon a time, but that Spike, that William the Bloody, simply doesn’t exist anymore, is not real anymore. This Spike, the real Spike is trying to help her; will help her if she’ll let him. But Dana is beyond help. She repeats the actions of her abductor. She drugs Spike, chains him up and tortures him, takes him apart bit by bit all the while repeating her tormentor's words – ‘don’t cry, they can’t hear you. Daddy’s gone. He can’t hear you. Piece by piece, yellow makes you weak, brown makes you sleepy.’ But then she says “Can’t hurt me anymore” and that’s the real Dana speaking. She’s trying to rewrite history, change it; make everything better.

At Wolfram and Hart they are still looking. Tactical are following the body trail but so far haven’t found her so Angel orders aerial surveillance, thermal imaging in to help to find her. The team decides to look at old city maps, for a distillery that might account for the smell of molasses. But none of it is necessary. Andrew appears:

Andrew: We were attacked. I think she got him. I think she got Spike.

Spike wakes. He is groggy but not confused. He knows that Dana has done something to him, though he’s not sure what. Dana still parrots her abuser telling Spike that if he stays quiet she’ll let him go. She’s holding her trusty saw again, looking a bit confused:

Dana: Losing all your pieces. Not weak….Can't touch me anymore.

Spike lifts his arms to reveal that his lower arms and hands have been sawn off. This is vengeance pure and simple. Dana has been wronged and, by sheer luck she was granted the power to fight back, to get revenge on the man who destroyed her. Now she’s able to fight back against her childhood weakness, against the fact that she was powerless:

Dana:  No more daddy... no more mommy... no more hands. Can't touch me ever again.

But Spike doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He never touched her and he tells her so. Dana punches him for his insolence:

Spike: Stop. Stop. You got it wrong. Your brain's all jumbled. I never hurt you. It wasn't me. I've done my share of bad, but you're not one of 'em. It's someone else. You've got me confused with another man.

Spike admits he’s done wrong but he won’t wear the blame for Dana’s abuse. He doesn’t extend to her the right of judgement, that distinction he already gave that to another slayer, while he was chained in another basement, but that slayer offered mercy and faith whereas this one can only show malice. Spike tries to explain, that her memories and dreams are mixing, confusing her. Dana seems to comprehend. She listens, has some flashes of memory of Spike carrying her across the room but that memory is replaced by another, another man carrying her exactly the same way, another man, not Spike. But she still has memories of Spike. She speaks in Chinese again. 

Spike: Yeah. That's what you're remembering—other slayers.  Dana:  You killed her.  Spike:  yes, but… Dana:  You killed them both.  Spike:  That and worse. But I was never here.

In that moment, Dana understands, has a moment of clarity. She understands that she is not the other girls she sees in her dreams. They are separate and distinct. Now she is just a slayer and Spike is a vampire who has just made a very dangerous admission. She is a slayer and she intends to punish him for killing those girls, her sister slayers:

Dana:  Doesn't matter! Head and heart. Keep cutting till you see dust.

Before Dana can finish him off Angel arrives and forcibly thrusts her across the room. Angel tries to reason with her:

Angel:  Dana...look, I'm here to help you. The man who tried to hurt you? His name is Walter Kindel. He tried to rob a liquor store 5 years ago, and the police shot him. He—he's dead, Dana.

For Angel the all-important scales are balanced. The man who hurt Dana has received his just rewards. He’s dead. He can’t hurt her anymore. It should be simple, but it’s not. Dana is angry, she’s not weak anymore. She’s strong; slayer. A slayer with no rationale for what she does or why except for personal pain and an intuitive urge to kill the monsters, kill them all... and so she attacks. She lunges at Angel and they fight. At an opportune moment Angel holds Dana tightly and signals to Wesley to pump her full of tranquilisers. Only when Dana is under control, only then does Angel look at Spike, see his predicament and instantly orders medical aid. Fred sees Spike into the ambulance. He’s lucky; Wolfram and Hart have access to all kinds of medical procedures that will make re-attaching his hands a snap. Wesley and Angel emerge next with Dana, sedated and restrained on a gurney. Where they are taking her, what they are going to do with her is not made clear. It doesn’t matter. Andrew arrives on the scene saying he’ll take it from here:

Angel:  What?  Andrew: Totally appreciate your help on this one, big guy. Never could've found her without you, but you got enough problems of your own to worry about.  Angel:  Get outta the way, Andrew. 

But, that was the deal wasn’t it? Rupert Giles sent his top man to retrieve Dana, not Rupert Giles sent his top man to help catch Dana. Retrieve: to get back, regain, recover, reclaim. Angel knew this was the plan, so when did he change his mind? When he saw that Andrew was obviously not the ‘top man’ promised? When he saw that Andrew loved Spike?

“She’s one of ours, she’s a slayer”, Andrew says. He draws a line, divides them but Angel’s not buying it. That’s not how it works, Angel rescues, Angel helps the helpless. He doesn’t just do the retrieval work for others, and he certainly doesn’t hand them over to the likes of Andrew! But Andy has more balls than Angel gave him credit for. He won’t step down; he faces off with Angel:

Andrew: No. I don't think you... heard me, Angel. Think we're just gonna let you take her back to your evil stronghold? Well, as they say in Mexico... No. We're not...gonna... let you. 

Angel is equally as stubborn. He refuses to turn her over voluntarily. He doesn’t consider Andrew worthy or capable. But Andrew has backup. A dozen young women, slayers all, emerge from the darkness to stand behind him. Angel is still dismissive, Andy’s out of his league, doesn’t know the score. He’ll just clear this with Buffy. To which Andrew delivers his knockout argument, the fatal truth:

Andrew:  Where do you think my orders came from? News flash—nobody in our camp trusts you anymore. Nobody. You work for Wolfram & Hart. Don't fool yourself... we're not on the same side. Thank you for your help... but, uh...we got it.

Now that’s a kick in the guts he wasn’t expecting. The girl, the slayer, who set him on his path, gave him direction after countless years of aimless wandering in the wilderness; Buffy doesn’t trust him anymore because he works for Wolfram and Hart. That’s his problem. That’s the big problem he has to worry about. That his tenure at Wolfram and Hart has compromised him, made him untrustworthy even to those who had seemingly unshakable faith. That’s how far he’s come, or been taken, so far now that he’s facing in the opposite direction to Buffy and her people; they’re on opposite sides of the line. Big problem indeed. Angel is crushed to realise it, he can’t even argue. Andrew takes Dana into the care of the Chosen sisterhood.

Buffy has a very strong sub-textual presence in this episode. Andrew brings her with him when he arrives at Wolfram and Hart. She’s walking on the docks with Andrew and Spike too. She’s all Spike wants to know about, yet he won’t allow himself to reconnect. But she’s with Spike in the basement as he’s chained up, maimed, damaged and judged. She provides a positive image to Dana’s negative. And she’s there, bold as brass, almost tangible as she withdraws her trust from Angel. This last act caused much discussion within fan communities. Many wondered why Buffy would not help Angel when he was obviously in trouble, some even speculated that Andrew was lying, spurred on by his loyalty to Spike, and that Buffy and Angel’s relationship was business as usual. In reality, the loss of Buffy’s allegiance is not so surprising. Angel has told no one the real reason that he is at Wolfram and Hart. He’s had memories wiped to ensure that it stays a secret. This would include anyone in Buffy’s camp who knew about Connor (Faith and Willow certainly, the others, no definitive confirmation is ever given). So as far as Buffy is concerned the fact that he is working for Wolfram and Hart, evil incorporated, makes him untrustworthy. They may suspect an ulterior motive, or a reason behind the move, but because Angel hasn’t shared any information, they can’t afford to take the risk. The season eight comics have revealed that Buffy is viewed as a wanted terrorist and that they are experiencing some problems with a few of the newly chosen. At this stage Buffy has to be especially careful of whom she trusts, and Wolfram and Hart are not a first-choice ally, even with Angel in charge of one division. Wouldn’t the senior partners love to co-opt a few of those slayers for themselves? Very dangerous indeed. Buffy is right to be cautious and once again, we are shown the dangers, the consequences of poor communication. 

Angel goes to the hospital and finds Spike, hands freshly reattached, in a reflective mood. He says the pain he’s experiencing is just what he deserves:

Spike: The lass thought I killed her family. And I'm supposed to what, complain 'cause hers wasn't one of the hundreds of families I did kill? ...... For a demon... I never did think that much about the nature of evil. No. Just threw myself in. Thought it was a party. I liked the rush. I liked the crunch. Never did look back at the victims.

Fist and fangs, back against the wall…

And finally, Angel gives a little in return, completes the connection, tells Spike some truth about himself:

Angel:  I couldn't take my eyes off them. I was only in it for the evil. It was everything to me. It was art. The destruction of a human being; I would've considered Dana a masterpiece.

A good kill, it takes pure artistry…

What we once were informs all that we have become, yup, Darla really was onto something there. Spike asks after Dana to which Angel admits:

Angel: I don't know. Um, Andrew and the slayers took her. Didn't trust us to help her

Us? Doesn’t trust us? That’s not strictly true, is it? It wasn’t Andrew that didn’t trust, it was Buffy and it’s not ‘us’, it’s you. Just you Angel. She doesn’t even know Spike is alive, though one suspects it wouldn’t make a difference. Spike doesn’t work for Wolfram and Hart. Angel does. 

Spike:  Andrew double-crossed us? That's a good move. Hope for the little ponce yet

Spike is just happy to be included in the ‘us’ with Angel so he can overlook the untruth, though he is genuinely proud of Andrew’s move. Well, that’s what big brothers do; they take pride in the actions of the younger one. Trusts Andrew to get her some help:  

Spike: Though the tingling in my forearms tells me she's too far gone to help. She's...one of us now. She's a monster. 

Angel is indignant on Dana’s behalf. She’s an innocent victim in all this. She’s helpless – it’s not her fault. To which Spike replies:

So were we... once upon a time.

Don’t misunderstand this statement. Spike’s not arguing that he and Angel are blameless for their actions because they were once the innocent victims of Darla and Drusilla. He’s saying that it’s possible to be both. That just because Dana started out as an innocent it doesn’t mean she’s not capable of monstrous deeds too. He doesn’t idealise his helpless the way that Angel does. 

So as Damage closes, we leave Angel at very low ebb. Hope has receded completely, he is alone, isolated and mistrusted by his symbolic saviour. He knows he’s got a big problem but has no direction to get himself out of the labyrinth. His compass needle is spinning too fast. He needs . . . someone to get him back on track . . . 

He needs . . . 

Cordelia. 

Next up - 5.12 - You're Welcome

[cbusch]

So this week I went to see Joker: Folie a deux as I loved the 2019 Joker movie, which was filled with dark, grisly themes and violence that matched to the Joker’s persona. I heard some negative reviews about this and even my family members didn’t want to see the film because of those reviews. However, as a movie goer, I like to keep my mind open as I know I don’t share the same opinions as Rotten Tomatoes. After seeing this film, I’m glad I ignored the reviews and went to see this movie as a I had an enjoyable time in the theater.

Cinametography: The camera work was the biggest piece for me as each angle perfectly captured the character’s emotions, thoughts, and gave significant symbolism to what would happen down the road. The angles from the far side of the courtroom as if we’re the jury to Arthur Fleck’s trial to up close, seeing the thoughts racing through the witnesses head as well as the prosecutor (who had such a punchable face, but still) to the defense. We can feel the energy move up to which the viewers can understand the severity of the situation. My favorite type of camera work was when (Spoiler) Lee Quincey visits Arthur in jail, she takes some lipstick and draws a smile on the glass to resemble the Joker’s smile and when Arthur turned his head to match the spot of the lipstick, it sent chills down my spine as it showed that the Joker persona was taking over more and more and set up for the next part of the film from the prison to the courtroom, it made me weary of what was going to happen next and how Arthur/Joker was going to cope with the remaining of his trial.

Score: Now since this is a musical, there was more of upbeat tone to this film while also keeping the same dark tone of the original movie. However, apart from the musical numbers (which I will talk about in a little bit briefly since a lot of that has to do with the direction they decided to go with Joker and major spoilers are involved so out of respect won’t go too much into detail about that). However, the score really set up the pace of each scene. The score shows its poker face as we never know what to expect. The way I interpreted this was to show how Arthur was going to do next. From the low music and having the tempo rapidly speed up never knew what was going to happen. Score played a huge part of this movie as it surprised me. Something that might’ve been grisly didn’t turn out to be as the score played tricks on me and personally I loved it as I didn’t know what to expect and made me want to continue watching to see what would happen to Arthur and Lee.

Musical Numbers: Now I’m in the minority when it comes to musicals as I love them. So, this movie taking a different direction with this being a thriller/courtroom/musical movie focusing on the villain was personally creative. I can understand why some people are hesitant, but come on you can’t have a movie with Lady Gaga and not have her sing! It would be an injustice to her as an artist. The musical numbers were creative and gave a lot of insight to how the Joker persona was going to play a significant role in the movie and affect Arthur. Each number sets up a significant symbolic tone to what will happen to our characters down the road. Plus, the numbers are catchy as in the movie theater I was dancing a little to the songs and tapping my hand softly against my thigh, enjoying the beat of the songs. The musical numbers had that fantasy-esque feeling to it but at times was shocked to certain aspects of his fantasy where reality of the grisly world of his reality mixed in with his Joker persona numbers. I’ll spare sharing what happens in a lot of the musical numbers as they contain spoilers and it wouldn’t be fair to anyone who reads this and wants to see the film for themselves. Anyway, for any musical doubters, the songs do help the story move along and understand different layers of the the Joker persona as well as Arthur Fleck.

Acting/Characters: Once again, Joaquin Phoenix puts in a fantastic performance as Arthur Fleck/Joker. The subtle movements in his facial and physical expressions allows us the viewers to guess where he is going to go with the scene, unaware of his actions as he is often known for being unpredictable. The acting of Phoenix was perfected to a tee and shows the dedication he puts into understanding the complexities of a character such as Arthur Fleck. In my opinion, he was born to play this role. Lady Gaga was also a perfect introduction to Harleen “Lee” Quinzel. The balance of insanity, manipulation, and love she has for Arthur was blended in together. Deep down, I love the changes they made to how they met while still keeping true to the original characterization of the characters. Gaga and Phoenix’s chemistry works with the right amount of insanity, love, and heartbreak which down the road broke my heart as it meant for these characters to be alone. Not so much for Harleen Quinzel as they added a manipulative layer to her character compared to other interpretations of Harley Quinn, which left we shocked and heartbroken for Arthur Fleck. The characters felt fleshed out and raw, which is very rare to see in movies with the same stories with heroes and villains. Making villains sympathetic is never easy and the way they were able to make Harleeen and Arthur sympathetic while not excusing the actions they committed felt brilliant.

Downsides: While I did have an enjoyable time in the theater, there were some downsides to the movie. Pacing was one of the main problems in the film. In the beginning, they droned on and on with the prison scenes as we saw the day to day life of what Arthur goes through at Arkham State Hospital and the guards that are constantly abusing there power. It was slow at times, however they wanted us to understand how some guards in that state of power abuse the prisoners/patients int hose facilities. They’re so busy with their position, that deep down they forget that these are human beings with feelings and issues that are too complex for them to understand. Again, if you see this film and these scenes, maybe you have a different understanding than me with what Phillips was trying to show us. If so, leave your comments below.

There was also a plot hole as they mentioned in the scene, where my favorite cinematography scene was sort of ruined by the lines Harleen told Arthur. (Spare you from telling as it’s a spoiler and I don’t like spoiling the film for people that have interest in seeing the film).

Overall, I don’t understand the hate for this film. However people’s opinions are different but we still shouldn’t based our judgement on a film based on a review. If you want to see this film, great. If you don’t, that’s okay as well but the decision should ultimately be up to you and not anyone else. Again, this is my personal opinion and if you liked this film, let me know in the comments below! Thanks for reading this review!

[quibbs126]

So I had this character idea back when I was playing Great Ace Attorney, and it’s back again now so I just want to share

It was basically an idea for Fey clan ancestors

I know, I do the ancestor thing too much, but just let me have this one, alright?

Okay, so basically the idea is that we have two members of the Fey clan, or I suppose Ayasato clan, if we’re going by the original names (though I don’t know about that since unlike the other ones, the family name is important and would realistically be kept), and these two happen to be twin brother and sister

I never figured out what to call them though, so they’re probably going to be referred to as the guy and girl or something

Anyways, so the guy is a Japanese university student (not sure in what major), while his sister is a spirit medium in training to be the next Master. The brother doesn’t have any spirit powers, though he has been given a magatama by his sister (though he’s not that familiar with it)

Also despite being twins, they actually only met recently and learned of the other’s existence. I think the story in my head was that their mother died in childbirth, and their grandmother took that personally and blamed the son for it (I assume he’s the younger twin), so she had him sent away to live in another village. They only met now because the sister had been looking through village records for whatever reason and had learned of his existence through that

The sister’s very eager to get to know her newfound sibling, though the brother’s less eager. As far as he’s concerned, he’s already had family that cares for him, and while he doesn’t mind his sister, he’s aware the rest of his biological family isn’t fond of him. And also with this revelation, the sister has grown somewhat resentful of her family, particularly her grandmother, for keeping this a secret from her this whole time

The plot I cooked up for them to have them included in Great Ace Attorney is that the brother does a study abroad to Britain, and the sister decides to tag along (she bought her own ticket), even though she doesn’t really know any English. The idea she concocts is that he studies and she gets money for them. And also that this way they can make up for lost time, as she says (and she may or may not be looking for an excuse to stay away from the rest of her family right now)

Coincidentally, on their ship ride to England, they happen to meet Susato and/or Ryunosuke, depending on whether or not I want to set this during TGAA 2 or after. But either way, they meet on the ship ride, and end up becoming friends, or at least being happy that they’ve met other people in similar positions. By the end of their journey, they tell the twins that if they’re ever in need of legal assistance, to go and call for them on Baker Street

And indeed they end up needing that assistance as one of them gets accused of murder (I haven’t figured out which one), which leads into a fictional case for them. I don’t really have any details other than water and/or drowning was involved in the murder, and the sister does eventually end up channeling the victim, and there’s probably some attempted murder in the courtroom. Also the magatamas do work, it’s just that Ryunosuke and such (and thus we the audience) never actually see the Psyche Locks, it’s mostly just that the brother sees them and is shocked by them. The sister sees them too but doesn’t react

I think normally I’d draw them out before giving all this character info, but A: I don’t know what kind of designs to give them, and B: I’m at work right now and don’t have the ability to draw them, but I still want to tell you about them

Will I draw them? We’ll see, I don’t really know. But I just felt like sharing

[aetheternity]

I got to finish playing through Fontaine today! Here are my thoughts cause a while ago ya'll loved hearing me speak on things. (Spoilers under the cut obviously)

~ Lyney and Lynette 🥺 I didn't expect to love them as much as I do 😭😭 (Freminet too though I liked him as soon as I saw him) though I do find it annoying how much slack the fandom has allowed those two to get seeing as they both lied to the Traveler and put them on the spot during an important trial. Traveler thought of them as good friends and decided to support the two of them out of the kindness of their hearts because Lyney helped them out previously only to find out they'd hidden a possible trail breaking secret if Furina hadn't mentioned it they probably still wouldn't have said anything the only reason they did was because they got cornered. If we're being real Traveler could've just walked away right after that confession but they not only stayed but made sure that Lyney and Lynette would not get charged for something they had nothing to do with. Traveler doesn't have to be friends with literally any of the people they encounter and that includes Lyney and Lynette. Just cause ya'll love them doesn't mean Traveler has to as well a sad backstory doesn't make up for betrayal and in regards to people who keep bringing up Traveler being buddy buddy with Childe. Childe has A, been in the story way longer, B, Traveler knows who Childe is and despite how close ya'll think they are Traveler is wary of him too. A couple updates ago he was making sure to warn Yomiya not to put all her trust in Childe let's stop acting like Traveler loves Childe and thinks he can do no wrong in comparison to Lyney and Lynette. Traveler just knows what Childe is capable of in comparison to Lyney and Lynette who they've known for what like two days.

~ Never has an NPC's death shaken me that hard before. In any game! I literally went 😦 when that cutscene played.

~ It was so amazing getting to find evidence and pick apart details of this case then have Neuvillette explain the whole situation out in full to the audience again. I especially enjoyed the drawings of each scene from different characters perspectives.

~ Furina is my girlfailure wife and she has been placed under Venti for second favorite archon. 💕💕 She's so bratty, cute and dramatic I wanna breed her 😩

~ I was not expecting to like Neuvillette and Navia as much as I do now! Especially Navia who I adore whole heartedly now that's a girlboss.

~ Every time she started crying I wanted to hold her.

Honestly this region was perfect for me. I love mysteries and I rarely ever found myself uninterested or bored with the story like I have with every other nation. I love Navia's character, her relationship with Traveler treating them like her partner and relying on them the way she did while also keeping them safe was so so cute and sweet and if I could draw I'd draw the Traveler I picked (Aether) with Navia as partners in detective work (Sorry Heizou you've been replaced..) I can't get enough of Furina and I can't wait for her first story quest, the leaks of her playstyle and more from her. I wanna see what kinds of things she says to her people outside of the courtroom/opera house. I wanna see her more vulnerable side shine out a bit more often. I wanna hear every voiceline she has more than once. I'm normal about her.. (I spent all night thinking about how gorgeous she is..) I want her. I hope Lynette gets a hangout soon she's so cute but I do think she needs more personality outside of her brothers.

Fontaine is also so so beautiful 😍 the underwater mechanic is surprisingly not as annoying as I thought it would be to navigate though I do find it a little annoying that we can't fight using our characters skills. I get why I just don't like it. I wish we'd spent more time in the underground because it's amazing and the way it all looks is so impressive also wish we could buy food and things from the vendors down there.

I beg of Hoyo to give the Fontaine characters even half as much screen time as the Sumeru gang cause I have to say I am far more interested in all the Fontaine characters with only one patch of them then I ever have been with the Sumeru mfers.

[twcfaces]

She was there when it happened.

He said she'd bring him luck, and that he was going to need it, and that afterwards, they'd have the whole night to themselves.

He said he had a really good feeling about it.

He looked a little pale, a little exhausted, but she kissed him on the lips and told him good luck.

She knew she was the reason he was covering his face as the soft tissue of his lips was eaten away- he wouldn't have wanted her to see, but by the time they were trying to flush away the acid, she had seen his bare teeth through the side of his face, and she could not forget it, ever, when she closed her eyes she could see him writhing on the courtroom floor, she could hear the sound of his skin dissolving, and she felt her heart and soul leave her and stick her back into her body in the hospital.

Her hands moved uselessly, aimlessly. What do I do? What can I do? Can he breathe is he alive will he wake up I feel like I'm screaming, am I screaming-

They tell her she fainted, which she has never done before. Everyone who passes her offers her some kind of sympathy, but her husband isn't dead.

Is he?

The doctors eventually stabilize him. They explain to her that the concentrated acid has taken the soft tissue from his lips, the cartilage from his nose- a nose she traced over a thousand times as she sculpted Apollo. She doesn't even know what she heard after that, only that the pain was so great they were forced to sedate and anesthetize him just so he wouldn't die from the shock of it, and that he'd be breathing through a tube until he could draw air in normally.

Can I see him? Can I see him? She begged with her entire life, and in her entire life she'd never felt so small and useless.

She didn't care that he was handsome- never did. She suddenly missed every imperfection she'd come to love, now draped over with bandages, now completely gone. The damage went from the back of his head, all the way down to the front of his neck. His hands were burned, hanging limply in their own bandages.

All she could think of was that she'd tied his tie for him this morning, and now he was struggling to breathe. She could not even touch him. She could not grab his hand, or lay her head on his chest, or kiss his cheek. She couldn't whisper that she loved him into his ear. She could only sit by his bed, listen to him breathe, labored and uneven, and cry until she felt sick. Worse than sick. She was dying.

She couldn't breathe. Her heart was pounding so fast and so hard-

Two days later, she composed herself. If Harvey needed her, she would do anything for him. It made her feel in control of herself when she listened to the details of what she was being told and kept track of them.

As a sculptor, she knew faces. She knew his face. She'd made him Apollo. She pictured herself before the bust she'd made, and imagined taking each part away in her hands like clay when it was listed off to her.

There went his cheek, there went most of his nose, an ear, the eyelids were smudged away on one side, his lips were half-gone, half a brow,

she wiped away dimples and a soft smile line, and a scar behind his ear.

She asked something about skin grafting she hardly even understood coming out of her own mouth. She wanted to plead to someone- just let him stop hurting- let him come home- let Harvey be Harvey again.

"...There's nothing to graft the skin to, Mrs. Dent."

She ran out of the room to be sick. To cry. To be alone.

Just let my Harvey breathe again.

[thegeminisage]

ok it's tng update time. im actually so behind idr when we watched what but the episodes were "the nth degree" "qpid" and "the drumhead."

the nth degree: holy shit this one sucked so bad. i hate barclay so much and it's a SUPER bad look to make him geordi's project specifically when geordi is equally as creepy in the fucking holodeck as this guy was

the only good part of this epiosde was when deanna was like, he made a pass at me. and riker looked at her SO fast and later he was like. deanna was it a successful pass. deanna. deanna please. and she just smirked at him. AND HE LOVED IT. he loved being toyed with. down to clown. that was so fun

my biggest gripe was that deanna turned him down THREE TIMES and then they eventually had the date anyway. disgusting. why do they hate her

i was gonna write a longer thing about how bad barclay's whole deal is but honestly it was ages ago, why relive it. it was bad is the point. shoulda shot him when they had the chance

qpid: i am SHOCKED to inform everyone that this episode finally brought me around to q. i didn't think it was possible because he was SO ANNOYING in every single other appearance but i think the guy playing him and patrick stewart have finally settled into a dynamic that works because it really worked for me. like suddenly it was funny instead of unfunny and embarrassing. like a switch flipped. i'm not sure what changed but it's great

the crucial element of this of course is that q wants picard to fuck him soooo bad and picard is Not gonna do it. picard Will Not fuck him. and the more picard is like i'm not gonna fuck you, you are a vile little man, the more q wants him. q is telling all his friends about him nonstop. q is drawing little hearts around his name in his diary. he is writing their names on the fog of the enterprise's windows and then sadly wiping them away. and all of this makes picard want to fuck him EVEN less which makes q want him EVEN more. it's a self-sustaining cycle and it's the funniest thing i've ever seen in my life. i don't understand people who write fanfic about them fucking. it would ruin every bit of the magic. i don't want them to fuck ever this is too perfect

sour notes: one racist worf joke. CAN WE PLEASE STOP.........we were doing so well otherwise

oh and the other sour note: ??? what is up with vash. like good for her that she will fuck q or anyone else she needs to if it gets her out of situations and even have fun doing it. but why is she like, picard how could you not tell your friends about me WHEN THEY WERE A FLING. they met on the fuck planet and they fucked and then they never expected to see each other again. why is it weird that he didn't tell everyone he fucked her? who does that? yeah thanks for asking coworker riker i went to the fuck planet and i fucked this lady named vash. let me give you the intimate details while we're on the bridge, our place of employment! ? NO

the drumhead: i think the mistake we made here was watching this one directly after ep5 of pjo. anything looks boring in comparison there you know......

i do like when picard gets good and fiery mad though. like righteously. as long as he actually does have a good reason to do this he does a GREAT job, it's some of his strongest acting. the first time i realized he actually could act was when he did this in the data courtroom episode and he does a good job in this courtroom episode i am just. tired of courtroom episodes. please. this and the holodeck. ENOUGH. i wish they had listened to gene roddenberry when he said courts don't exist in utopia

i liked worf in this episode even though they gave him the idiot ball. he's like, i would LOVE to be racist to this guy who is 1/4 romulan even though i didn't know that a second ago. wack. furthermore all he talked about was his honor in a way that reminded me of zuko. i hope he, like zuko, gets his honor back someday <3

anyway they were Saying Something in this episode about political witch hunts and you know what it reminded me of? that the cold war was Still Going when this episode aired. it was going when tos was airing and more than halfway through tng it is STILL GOING! wild.

TONIGHT: "half a life" and "the host" (i think i've heard of this one is it the gay one...nobody tell me)

[seitmai]

Many thoughts so read more it is..

“Mommy, I’m sleepy,” she groans, looking up at you. You know how tired she is, her eyes tell you everything. She looks towards Andy, and then at you. He has been amazing. Calm, and rational, while you’ve been a ball of emotions. “Can Andy hold me like you are Suede so I can sleep?”

I get it, I want to be held by Andy to fall asleep too

“No, being a mother is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I love it. But seeing him like this, and how he was earlier; Andy, I could have lost him.” “But we didn’t,” a new round of never ending tears flow freely, and he doesn’t even realize what those two letters mean to you. We. You didn’t have to do this alone. You didn’t have to sit here with Suede, while Scott took Audrey home. You didn’t have to carry all this emotion and responsibility alone.

🥹🥹🥹

“I should have said that he’s a happy healthy boy because of the way that you have been raising him. Your kids are incredible because of you,” you hate crying. Despise it. And today you have cried so much! “Hey,” you look at Andy as he places Audrey in her seat. Taking so much care, so he doesn’t wake her up, “Can you let me shoulder some of this burden?” Placing your baby boy in his seat, you peer at Andy from across the car, and nod your head. Clearing your throat, “As long as you let me carry some of your burdens.”

They really just wann do it all together, the good and the bad 🥹

Her brow furrows while she starts drawing figures in the jury box. Pausing to count each one, and Andy lets out a long breath, “Daddy said I’m going to be a lawyer, so I need to know these things,” she stops again, poking a finger at each figure, drawing in two more. “Twelve.”

There is so much pressure on her and she is just 4 😭

“How does…no. I mean, is he going to always look like that now?” Her face crinkles up a bit, “He was cuter before.”

Lmao I love the honesty of kids and siblings have a special kind of honesty, I know from experience 😅

Are you okay? You know you can talk to your mom, me, even your dad about this whenever you want,” she looks back down at her drawing, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not okay?” “I’m okay, but daddy don’t like to talk about this, and it makes mommy sad.”

She should not have to deal with this 💔

Holding him on your hip as you grab the towel next to Scott, and he grabs your wrist, “You’re being negligent since he came into your life.” “Careful with your words, Scott. Because you purposefully let that woman bring a cat into my house, knowing our son was allergic,” you jerk your hand away from him, and bring the towel with you. Getting into the bedroom when you maneuver it around Suede’s body. “You do not get to put this on me. Just today your fiancé was telling us how Suede would like apples with walnuts on it.”

Yes!! Tell him!!👏🏻

“You got as much to say as she does with Taylor living with you. For the past three months, if I recall. That is when her apartment lease was up, and it wasn’t renewed. Now, I’m guessing since she hasn’t signed anywhere else, and you added another person to your own rental agreement, that she officially lives with you. So let’s quit going tit for tat, Scott because I got you beat. Whatever happened in the past, is the past. Currently we’re all trying to make sure that kids are happy and healthy. Suede is happy, and despite an added allergy, he’s healthy. Audrey is happy, despite her drawing a courtroom for fun,” Andy will continue to bring this up because it disgusts him. She should be playing with Barbie dolls.

Wow this was perfect 👏🏻

“And he doesn’t have to kick you when you’re down. What are you two doing?” You don’t move, just smile at the kids being able to see you and Andy love each other. It takes two point five seconds before they run, and crash into your back. “Do not get all silly, it’s bedtime,” they’re happy. They’re happy despite the chaos and hurt of the day. Giggling and having fun. Seeing true love between the adults in the house. A family in every sense of the word.

🥰🥰🥰

His eyes are so glossy, and you want to hold him so tightly. He didn’t have a family growing up. Didn’t have a present mother, father was in prison, didn’t have siblings, and you knew how much he wanted moments like this. “I’m fine,” Andy opts to keep his shirt, and pajama bottoms on. You get it, but you do love his topless suggles.

The moments he always wished for 🥹

Audrey shrugs, sitting up in the bed to look on the floor, “There’s room for him to sleep down there,” you shush her. Already she was getting too excited about Ann visiting. Ransom would never sleep on the floor, but she didn’t have to know it.

Haha just imagining Ransom on the floor for a sleep over 😂

Today has been exhausting, but this is the way you would want it to end. Suede’s rattling breathing on your chest, Audrey snuggled next to you, a hand holding Suede’s and a foot on Andy’s waist. She’s making sure she touches everyone.

She's so sweet 🥰

That is all it takes for Audrey and Suede to reach for the bags, pulling out the perfectly stuffed tissue paper. Audrey squeals as she holds up an iPad box, and your head immediately jerks towards Ransom, and Suede giggles, pulling out his own. “Ransom!” “What, they’re minis. And, they have their own data, so they can call you whenever they want.”

I love that his reasoning is that he got them not iPads but iPad minis 😂

Halfway through the trial, and a warning from the judge, Andy realized that Scott never thought you would move on. Thought that you would be there waiting on him for when he and Taylor inevitably split up. A man that wants to belittle a woman, just so he can weasel himself back in, but he didn’t know you.

He really is the worst 🤢

“You’re a pig, and that is the least of the things I can say. You called your own children baggage, and the only drama in her life is you. You want to say you got the best years, and you didn’t. I got all her firsts, and I’m going to have all her lasts, and you’re going to be a sad pathetic lonely man. Do you get that? Clearly you do, and that’s why you’re so bitter. You were a placeholder in her life, one that gave her the two best things you could, and you don’t even realize it. You had it all. Everything, and you threw it away for a woman that’s barely a woman, and when she’s bored, she will leave you. And if I ever hear you say another thing about my future wife…”

Ngl I love Andy's rants against Scott 🤭

No one has ever told you they love how you are a mother. It was just something that was expected of you. But hearing it from him is nearly painful. A pain that reverberates through your body because you believe him, and his words are strong. It’s a love that is so powerful it stings and overwhelms.

🥹🥹🥹

“Damn right it is. Go to sleep, little deer. I’ll clean everything up, and unlock the door, okay?” You smile, and nod. Letting beautiful dreams of unknown children, and your two oldest run around in a big backyard. What a dream. What a beautiful dream.

A dream that hopefully soon will be reality 🤞🏻

Two Good Reasons, Part 6

Summary: Andy’s

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, Scott Huffman, mentions of Suede’s bee stings, cute and sweet Ransom, self esteem issues, oral sex (F receiving), body worship, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Lifting up Suede’s hand, you kiss over his welts and swollen skin. He had finally gone to sleep a little bit ago, and now you get to fully look over his pitiful body. Eyes puffy, nearly swollen shut, while welts dot over his exposed skin in a grotesque painful looking way. Putting his arm down, you glance over at Audrey who is nodding off to sleep. Lifting up her hand where a pretty pink bandage now resides to kiss her sting as well. She was a trooper through it all.

“Mommy, I’m sleepy,” she groans, looking up at you. You know how tired she is, her eyes tell you everything. She looks towards Andy, and then at you. He has been amazing. Calm, and rational, while you’ve been a ball of emotions. “Can Andy hold me like you are Suede so I can sleep?”

It hadn’t ever occurred to you how much Andy stepped back more with Audrey. Not because he didn’t like her or wasn’t comfortable, but because she has a voice, and she has a great relationship with her father. So instead of forcing, Andy waits on her. “If it’s okay with him, why don’t you ask?”

“Andy,” she sleepily says looking at him. He already leans back in the chair, but waits for her to actually ask him, “Can you hold me, so I can sleep?”

“Of course, princess,” you hold her hand, so she can jump off the exam table, and she wobbles one time before she gets to Andy, and he picks up your abnormally small daughter, and lets her koala on him, using his shoulder as a resting spot for her head. It’s nearly instantly her breathing changes.

“Thank you,” you sigh, wiping tears from your eyes. You thought you loved Andy, but seeing him in dad mode makes you love him more. It still shocks you just how much you do love him in this state, “Not just for that, but today. All of it. It was a good day, until it wasn’t.”

“Were you aware of his allergy to bees?” You shake your head no, and tears steadily stream down your cheeks. It is just another thing to add to his growing list. Food allergies were terrifying, but you still had ways to control them. Bees are something you can't. You can’t keep him inside, locked up in a bubble.

“Honey,” Andy coos, trying to soothe you from afar, and you shake your head in frustration. Wiping away the saline trails that stain your face.

“No, being a mother is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I love it. But seeing him like this, and how he was earlier; Andy, I could have lost him.”

“But we didn’t,” a new round of never ending tears flow freely, and he doesn’t even realize what those two letters mean to you. We. You didn’t have to do this alone. You didn’t have to sit here with Suede, while Scott took Audrey home. You didn’t have to carry all this emotion and responsibility alone.

“Seeing him like that never gets easier.”

“How many times have you had to use the EpiPen?”

“That was just the second time. But it was somehow worse. It happened so fast, and I could see him straining to breathe, and he just couldn’t. And he was just looking up at me, so scared, and in so much pain. Seventeen times,” you lament. “He was stung seventeen times. And everything was rushing around us, and all I could see was my baby unable to just breathe. Allergies suck.”

“Fuck allergies,” you snort out a laughter as you brush back Suede’s curls. Even swollen, he is one of the most beautiful babies you’ve ever seen. Him and Audrey tied. Everyone thinks their own children are beautiful, but you just know, you have the most beautiful babies ever.

Andy stands abruptly when the door opens, followed by the doctor. Audrey never stirs, and he holds her tighter. It was such a fluid motion, like he was meant to be a father. Standing at attention for any news. “Alright, Mr. And Mrs. Huffman,” Andy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. The doctor thought the kids were his, and that’s all he cares about. Even if the last name annoyed him.

“I think it’s safe to say that Suede is allergic to bees for now. Here’s a prescription for a new EpiPen, and we’ve got him scheduled for a visit with his allergist. He needs to be tested again,” you assumed that was coming, and you dread it.

“Is there a possibility he isn’t allergic and it was because of the amount of stings?” Out of the corner of your eyes you see Andy slowly rub over Audrey’s back. Whether it was to keep her asleep or his own anxiety, you’re not sure, but in a weird way it soothes you.

The doctor sighs, “It’s possible of course, but you still need to go to the allergist. Other than that, he’s fine. He’ll probably need to do a sinus wash, give him his antihistamine, monitor him, but other than that, he’s free to go,” you nod. Overwhelmed, and exhausted yourself. Scooting to the edge of the exam table before Andy steps over, holding out his hand.

“Mrs. Huffman, I see you look defeated, and you shouldn’t be. He’s a strong boy, and you reacted quickly. You did everything that you could to prevent anything terrible. Don’t beat yourself up. Your son is a happy healthy boy because of how you two are raising him,” Andy beams. Standing up straighter, but then he looks at you, softening his smile as he helps you off the table. “Suede deserves lots of rest, and may I suggest mango sorbet?”

“We’ll keep that in mind, doctor. Thank you,” his words lift so much pressure off your back. Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe the way you feel. Exhaustion laces through every fiber of your body as you and Andy walk out of the ER. His hand firmly planted on the small of your back.

“I should have said that he’s a happy healthy boy because of the way that you have been raising him. Your kids are incredible because of you,” you hate crying. Despise it. And today you have cried so much! “Hey,” you look at Andy as he places Audrey in her seat. Taking so much care, so he doesn’t wake her up, “Can you let me shoulder some of this burden?”

Placing your baby boy in his seat, you peer at Andy from across the car, and nod your head. Clearing your throat, “As long as you let me carry some of your burdens.”

“Doe, I’ve never kept any secrets from you. You know all about my life, my family, and you still want me in yours and their life. But yes, if it gets too hard, we can be each other’s support,” for the first time since you heard Suede’s pained cries, and Audrey’s shrill screams, you smile. This is a difficult situation, but knowing you’re not alone as you trudge through this uncharted territory helps. Things don’t feel so heavy.

Settling into the car, Andy grabs your hand in his own quickly, while you lay up against his shoulder. Just breathing, and just listening to them. All of them. Including Andy.

——

“Auds, what cha doing?” Andy places another dish in the dishwasher, while Audrey sticks her tongue out, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She sits up on her knees with her face so close to the paper. “Audrey, you’re going to hurt your eyes,” and she sits back a bit more, and looks up at Andy.

“Who is the ban-if again?” Her head twists to the side, looking like a puppy as Andy throws a towel on the counter, walking towards the dinner table. He looks down at the picture Audrey has been coloring, and bites his tongue.

“This is the judge. That is the defense attorney, and this is you, the prosecutor. But what is the ban-if? I can’t remember.”

“Bailiff,” Andy says softly, reaching for his own crayon. He draws a person, and Audrey looks up at him smiling. “Do you remember what they do?”

“Umm,” he tries to make sense of this. Tries to figure out why a four year old is drawing parts of a courtroom for fun when she should be actually playing. Or coloring My Little Ponies or something. Anything but this. “That’s the one that is like a police officer? And they can take criminals back to jail?”

“Yeah, they’re the ones that keep the courtroom safe. Why are you doing this?”

Her brow furrows while she starts drawing figures in the jury box. Pausing to count each one, and Andy lets out a long breath, “Daddy said I’m going to be a lawyer, so I need to know these things,” she stops again, poking a finger at each figure, drawing in two more. “Twelve.”

Audrey leans back in her chair, looking up at Andy, “Can I have an applesauce pack?” Finally something normal for a child. He gets up out of his seat, and returns with two pouches. One for him, and one for her. She only eats one squeeze before she stares at her drawing. “Did Suede almost die?”

“No,” he answers without hesitation. Not almost. He could have, but everyone did what they needed to do.

“He looked purple though,” Andy’s fingers drum over the kitchen table, trying to think of a way to answer her questions. Questions that you might refuse to answer. “I tell Taylor that Suede can’t have walnuts or eggs because he’ll die, but can he really?”

“Yes, he can. But that’s why we carry those pens with us. They’re the safety measure until we get him to the hospital. As long as we’re careful…”

“How does…no. I mean, is he going to always look like that now?” Her face crinkles up a bit, “He was cuter before.”

“The swelling will go down. I’m sure it’ll look different for a few days, but it won’t stay that way. Are you okay? You know you can talk to your mom, me, even your dad about this whenever you want,” she looks back down at her drawing, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not okay?”

“I’m okay, but daddy don’t like to talk about this, and it makes mommy sad.”

“I’ll always listen. Mommy will, too. Even if it makes her sad,” he sees a slight grin edge up on her face before he settles back into his chair, and she picks up a different crayon. He couldn’t stop what’s already been done, so might add to it, “Where does the witness sit during cross examination?”

Her body wiggles around excitedly, drawing a square next to the judge, and then a little figure, “Good job, sweetheart,” he says, flicking his head towards the door before he jogs off to answer the knock. “Evening, Scott.”

“Where’s my son?” he pushes past Andy, and into the foyer, walking down the hall, and deeper in the house. Looking around the living room when he doesn’t see Suede. “And my daughter?”

“Audrey is doing courtroom homework in the dining room, and Suede is getting a bath in the big tub,” he flicks his eyes towards the dining room, before returning to Andy. “Audrey’s fine. I think you should check on Suede.”

Scott rolls his eyes before walking towards his old bedroom. Glancing towards the open closet, and his jaw tightens. Andy’s clothes were all in the closet. In the hamper. A different bed. He barely knocks on the door to the bathroom before opening it, and Suede looks at you before standing up in the tub, and trying to give you a hug. You softly run your hand up and down his back, keeping your movements slow. Careful not to be harsh on his welts.

Scott scans over Suede’s body before leaning back on the bathroom counter, and Suede gives him a little smile, realizing he wasn’t there to take him from you. You keep humming the song you had been humming before Suede squats back down, and falls into the water with a laugh.

“How is he?” It’s one of the first times you’ve ever felt like Scott has sounded concerned for Suede. “How many stings? My god. Buddy, you okay?”

“Chess. Mama. Na Na,” his few words turn to gibberish, and Scott pinches the bridge of his nose.

“He’s got to go back to the allergist, and get pricked again,” your hand skims the warm water. Trying to relax Suede, but relax yourself more. The ability to see all his stings hurt you so much.

“I think it’s safe to say that he’s allergic to bees. How many stings?”

Suede’s hand reaches towards yours before he stands, and creates a slide down the back of the tub. Giggling before doing it again. “You know I don’t like when he does that in my house.”

“Seventeen times,” you try to change the subject. Suede rarely took a bath in the big tub. And as soon as you caught Scott fucking the babysitter, his rules for your children having fun didn’t apply anymore. “Audrey was stung once.”

“Is she okay?” Keeping your eyes on your baby, you roll your eyes, but nod.

“Yes. They got the stinger out, and gave her a pink unicorn bandage. There’s a little bit of swelling, but it’s her left hand, so she can still hold a crayon.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being condescending or not,” not towards your daughter, but towards his priorities.

“And neither can I,” everything you said was the truth, and under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have cared for his concern. But here sits his son with seventeen stings, welts, swollen, wet coughs, and a snotty nose, and he’s worried about one sting. “His face turned purple again.”

“And how long did it take you to get to him?” Even though his words are calm, they cut deeply. Watching Suede now, you realize this evening could have ended very differently in a matter of seconds.

“It didn’t take long, but his airways had been sealed shut.”

“Seventeen goddamn times,” he says your name, and tears instantly flood your vision. “What the hell were you doing when our baby was stung that many times?”

“I was closer than you were.”

“Because it was your weekend. I would have never…”

“I didn’t know he was allergic to bees!” You shout, causing Suede to flinch. You take a deep breath, continuing the conversation softer, “Do you think I want my children to be stung? For them to feel any pain? Especially when it comes to their lives?” Suede whispers ‘Mama,’ standing up in the water, and he leans against you. “Do not put this on me, and act like it was my fault, I already feel guilty enough as it is.”

“You should!” Your eyes squeeze shut. Inhale. Exhale. You slowly open your eyes and look at Suede when you pick him up out of the tub without a towel. Holding him on your hip as you grab the towel next to Scott, and he grabs your wrist, “You’re being negligent since he came into your life.”

“Careful with your words, Scott. Because you purposefully let that woman bring a cat into my house, knowing our son was allergic,” you jerk your hand away from him, and bring the towel with you. Getting into the bedroom when you maneuver it around Suede’s body. “You do not get to put this on me. Just today your fiancé was telling us how Suede would like apples with walnuts on it.”

“That’s different!”

“How?” You shout. Actually raising your voice, and then pull the towel covered Suede closer against your body, while you snuggle him. “How is that different?”

“Because she didn’t actually do it! You’re the one that was stupid enough to take your eyes off our kids, probably to make out with Andy fucking Barber!”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Andy’s presence is enormous as he steps into the doorframe. Hands on his hips, and his voice so calm, and yet demanding. It’s easy to see why he is feared in the courtroom. How everyone knows he will be a judge one day. “You’re not coming into our home and talking like that in front of the kids.”

“Take a look at the deed, you prick,” Scott spins on his heels stopping in front of Andy, “There is no ‘our’ with you. There’s not even ‘our’ with me. There’s one person’s name on that deed, and it’s not hers. You want to know the reason why she’s still living here?”

“Because she’s got your children. You wouldn’t want her and the kids to be homeless now, would you?” Scott and Andy silently stare at one another. “I would have given her the house, too, Scott. It’s what good men do, right?”

“I’m still going for sole custody. This incident will be recorded. I’ve already gotten a copy of his ER discharge papers,” Andy’s eyes go ablaze with every disgusting word he says.

“No! Scott, don’t you dare! You don’t even want him. You let her bring a cat into his home! That was intentional,” you hold Suede even tighter, and Andy raises his hand slightly, keeping his eyes on your soon to be ex husband.

“Scott, you’re going to quit threatening my girlfriend.”

“My wife,” Scott gives him an evil smirk.

“That you cheated on,” Scott blinks quickly, looking away for a split second, “I should probably look at the prenup agreement, huh? You’re going to quit with your idle threats, you’re not going to push for sole custody. You’re going to carry on with the agreement that was settled in mediation, and when we find a house, you can have this place back since you’re the only one on the deed.”

“We’re still married. You know I can have something to say about you living here,” you wish he would. You wish that he would say something. Pig.

“You got as much to say as she does with Taylor living with you. For the past three months, if I recall. That is when her apartment lease was up, and it wasn’t renewed. Now, I’m guessing since she hasn’t signed anywhere else, and you added another person to your own rental agreement, that she officially lives with you. So let’s quit going tit for tat, Scott because I got you beat. Whatever happened in the past, is the past. Currently we’re all trying to make sure that kids are happy and healthy. Suede is happy, and despite an added allergy, he’s healthy. Audrey is happy, despite her drawing a courtroom for fun,” Andy will continue to bring this up because it disgusts him. She should be playing with Barbie dolls.

“This isn’t over,” Scott grunts before shoving past Andy’s shoulder. He stops to look towards the dining room before walking to the front door, leaving with a slam, and not a word to Audrey, and you gracefully fall to the floor. Clinging to and rocking Suede.

Exhausted.

Mentally exhausted.

Andy reaches on the bed, handing you Suede’s pajamas and cream. Sitting on the edge of the bed quietly as you put a diaper on him. Rubbing the cream into all of his stings. Slipping those pajamas on before lifting him up and holding him so tightly, and still he says nothing. He stares out into space.

“Suedey, you want to go get sissy so we can get everyone in bed?”

“Chess,” he runs off, and you spin to look at Andy. He’s the only reason you’re upright at this moment. He has been your strength.

“Would you tell me if I overstep my bounds?” You get to your knees, crawling in between his thighs before laying on his lap. Extending both arms around his waist, and just hug him. “This is too sweet, but you’re not answering.”

“Yes, babe, I’d tell you. You know you’re the only person that’s ever taken up for me,” Andy gives your back scritches. Sighing as his body relaxes. Going limp almost at your calming touch, “You didn’t have to go so hard on him with the house, but I loved it.”

“And he doesn’t have to kick you when you’re down. What are you two doing?” You don’t move, just smile at the kids being able to see you and Andy love each other. It takes two point five seconds before they run, and crash into your back. “Do not get all silly, it’s bedtime,” they’re happy. They’re happy despite the chaos and hurt of the day. Giggling and having fun. Seeing true love between the adults in the house. A family in every sense of the word.

“Since…since Suedey is sleeping in here, can I sleep in here, too?” Andy looks at you, and you look at him, and without saying a word, and barely either of your faces changing, you know the answer. You give her a nod and she runs, struggling to get into the bed.

Suede’s eyes already get heavy, his antihistamine kicking in. Audrey understood that her brother is going to sleep on your chest all night, while you hardly sleep. A paranoia of his breathing stopping, so you need to watch his body rise and fall with his oxygen intake.

“How about a movie?” Audrey asks, motoring her lips and blowing a raspberry. She’s extra cute when she thinks she’s being sly.

“One movie. Lights completely out,” you tell her, crawling into the bed with Audrey. “Andy?” It isn't hesitation in his eyes as much as it’s observing. Smiling as Audrey leans over on your stomach. Wiggling around to get comfortable, and then reaches for her brother’s hand. “You okay?”

His eyes are so glossy, and you want to hold him so tightly. He didn’t have a family growing up. Didn’t have a present mother, father was in prison, didn’t have siblings, and you knew how much he wanted moments like this. “I’m fine,” Andy opts to keep his shirt, and pajama bottoms on. You get it, but you do love his topless suggles.

“Is there room for me?” He asks lifting his edge of the bed’s covers up.

“Chess, Na Na! Hewe!”

“You hold mommy’s hand.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Andy leans over, giving you a quick peck to your temple, causing an uproar of sleepy laughter, and he weaves his fingers in yours. His other hand grabs the remote. “I say we watch Winnie the Pooh,” both kids nod, giggling again.

“Next time can Ann come to our slumber party?”

“Where is he going to sleep, baby?”

Audrey shrugs, sitting up in the bed to look on the floor, “There’s room for him to sleep down there,” you shush her. Already she was getting too excited about Ann visiting. Ransom would never sleep on the floor, but she didn’t have to know it. She settles back in between you and Andy, and you glimpse her edging a little closer to him. Finally, sticking her foot out, so she can touch him, too.

Touch is a way she shows her comfort. Before Suede was born, if she slept in the bed with you and Scott, she’d lay diagonally between the two of you. Hands on you, feet on him. It feels right. Like they’ve always belonged to him. To you and him.

Today has been exhausting, but this is the way you would want it to end. Suede’s rattling breathing on your chest, Audrey snuggled next to you, a hand holding Suede’s and a foot on Andy’s waist. She’s making sure she touches everyone. And the man that you know is without a doubt your soulmate. Your mate. Your best friend. And the man you are going to marry, once the divorce is over. But there’s a part of you that also believes you could maybe give him a child. It’s what he deserves.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, and he pulses his hand around yours.

“Get a couple hours of sleep. I’ll watch his breathing,” you thank him again, but you can’t sleep. Not like that. You're sure he’s fine, but a mother will forever worry. But tonight, the worry isn’t as bad because you have your entire world in one bed.

——

“Uhh!” Suede stops his playing in the middle of the floor. His eyes big and wide as he stares at you, and then at Andy. “Hewe!”

“I’ll get it!” Audrey runs towards the door with you close behind. Going as fast as her short little legs will carry her, and Suede is right behind. She slings the door open, gasping as she stares at the tall man, “Uncle Ann!”

“Uncle?” Ransom asks confused.

“Ann!”

“Ran, what are you doing here?” He brings his hands out from behind his back, shrugging as he holds out two gift bags, too expertly decorated, and you give him an odd look. “What are you doing?”

“One, two!” Audrey shouts. Jumping up and down, and getting the same reaction from Suede. “There’s two, that’s for me and Suedey!”

“It is. Can I come in?” You step aside, waiting for Ransom to enter before closing the door, “Where’s your less than desirable boyfriend?”

“I heard that,” Andy steps out of the kitchen, extending a hand to his colleague, and Ransom shakes his head no. “I was cleaning up after lunch,” Ransom grimaces, “Doe made lunch, I cleaned up. And then for dinner we’re ordering out.”

“Indian!”

“Chess!” as if in response Andy smiles wide, noticing the presents, and both kids chasing Ransom’s arms that keep lifting the bags up. You have kept both kids out of ‘school’ until Suede fully heals. Needing to see what his new allergies are before you let him out of your sight. Audrey wanted to stay with her brother, much to Scott’s chagrin.

“Me?” Suede asks, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Yes, one is for you.”

“Let’s clean up the living room, and take everything back to the playroom room first,” the kids groan, but head into the living room, “Keep him here, until we’re done. It’s a mess,” Andy watches the three of you leave with the biggest smile on his face.

“So you made this thing social media official. Profile pictures changed to a family photo. I’m sure Scotty is going to love that,” Andy rolls his eyes playfully, starting to walk away, and Ransom chuckles. “Cute fingernail polish.”

“Audrey got bored during Suede and Doe’s nap. I’m taking it off before tomorrow. What’s in the bag?” Ransom shrugs with a smile walking down the hall before stopping. “Thought you were going to be cocky, but didn’t know where you were going.”

“Listen, I don’t get sappy, and I’m not going to start right now, but you suit this life. Maybe not in this dump of a house, but with her, the kids, maybe more kids,” his eyebrows raise and fall a few times, and Andy gets the biggest grin, “You’re already trying aren’t you? Before the divorce is finalized, that’s risky.”

“I know. I know. Her doctor and Scott really did a number to her self esteem with another pregnancy. But I am hopeful, and I enjoy the practice,” he turns around quickly, causing Suede to flinch before he giggles, screaming back down the hallway and into the living room, “I think he’s telling us they’ve cleaned, and he wants to see what the present is. And if it’s expensive, she’s going to complain.”

“Then I suppose I’ll hear her complain,” gesturing down the hall, Ransom lets Andy lead him into the living room where Suede and Audrey sit cross legged in the floor. Practically buzzing with excitement, and trying not to make grabby hands. Looking at their mom and then at Ransom. “I don’t know why you’re waiting on me.”

That is all it takes for Audrey and Suede to reach for the bags, pulling out the perfectly stuffed tissue paper. Audrey squeals as she holds up an iPad box, and your head immediately jerks towards Ransom, and Suede giggles, pulling out his own. “Ransom!”

“What, they’re minis. And, they have their own data, so they can call you whenever they want.”

“I can call from upstairs?” You shake your head no, and Audrey pouts a bit. “Why not?”

“You can if it’s important, but these will be kept up at night. You’re not going to sit and play with them all day. You’ll have to earn time on it,” you never want your kids to be addicted to media.

“Can we take it to daddy’s and I can call you there?” You glance towards Ransom who gives you a warm smile, nodding. “And we won’t even have to ask to FaceTime you!”

“Chess!” Suede takes his box over to Andy, crawling in his lap, and he gives it a tap. “Pease, Na Na.”

“Doe, I think they earned this. And it would be a nice opportunity for the future,” there is so much more to these than either of the men are making it. It’ll be an issue with their father. But to have the ability to call them whenever they’re at Scott’s would be a huge relief. You can only answer with a nod, motioning Audrey to let you help her open the box. Whispering a thank you to Ransom.

Relief warms your body. It could be just for the moment, Scott may not let them use the iPads, but right now, you have an ease when you didn’t realize it was something that bothered you. Now that Suede has at least one more allergy to deal with, you just know nobody watches him quite like you do. Even his father. Even Andy. And that’s something you have to deal with in your own time.

——

Andy nods his goodbye to the judge, collecting all his things, and tries to keep his eyes on his task. It was a trial with Scott. Andy had thankfully remained calm and collected, while Scott was losing grip on the trial. Taking things far too personally. The Neanderthal part of Andy wants to lash out at Scott, wants to tell him to grow up. The little man with a big issue.

Halfway through the trial, and a warning from the judge, Andy realized that Scott never thought you would move on. Thought that you would be there waiting on him for when he and Taylor inevitably split up. A man that wants to belittle a woman, just so he can weasel himself back in, but he didn’t know you. Cheating was always your ‘I’m done and never going back’ moment. And why anyone would want to cheat on you, the perfect woman, is beyond him.

He grabs up his briefcase, heading towards the door, and finally free from him and today. He is almost gone, “At least I got her best years,” Andy stops immediately. Contemplating how he wants to deal with this. How he wants to address Scott’s demeaning comment. During his thought process Scott walks past Andy, brushing roughly against his shoulder.

“Is there a problem?” Scott spins around, shaking his head no. Thankfully the courtroom has cleared out, but Andy is so tired of these mind games. The threats. The disgusting behavior. The low blowing comments. He’s hitting a peak that he knows he’s going to have to address. “Honestly, what’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” he acts as if to move, and then stops, “You really don’t need her drama. You’re a good looking man, and have younger women vying for your attention. You could have a woman without baggage, and one who can still give you a child,” Andy’s teeth clench just as hard as his fists. “Think about it. Your own children with your last name. And besides, you know, everything is tighter.”

“You’re a pig, and that is the least of the things I can say. You called your own children baggage, and the only drama in her life is you. You want to say you got the best years, and you didn’t. I got all her firsts, and I’m going to have all her lasts, and you’re going to be a sad pathetic lonely man. Do you get that? Clearly you do, and that’s why you’re so bitter. You were a placeholder in her life, one that gave her the two best things you could, and you don’t even realize it. You had it all. Everything, and you threw it away for a woman that’s barely a woman, and when she’s bored, she will leave you. And if I ever hear you say another thing about my future wife…”

“What?” Scott interrupts, and Andy smiles, resuming his walking. Let Scott ponder the things that Andy could do if he wanted to. Let him sit and think about all the things Andy could do to ruin him, while he gets to go home to you. He isn’t waiting, a new house will need to be found. Scott is pushing too many boundaries, and being shameless about it. Tonight, he just wants you to feel all the ways that he is better, and the ways you are better with him. How perfect you truly are.

——

Andy watches you from the bed. His book laying on his stomach, and his eyes flit over your entire body. For one, he just loves to look at you. He loves seeing how even though you and your body have changed, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in his life. You’re immaculate. Perfect. He just hates he missed so many years of getting to absorb you.

Another reason he watches, you seem tense. There’s an off-ness about you this evening that he can’t put his fingers on. Coupled with the words from Scott earlier today, it bothers him. You peer at yourself longer in the mirror than you normally do. You turn your body to the side, your eyes looking up and down your body. Do you not see what he sees? Do you not realize how amazing he finds your body? How every bit of the added curves are something that he wants to kiss.

You look into the mirror, and it’s like your face falls. You don’t see you like he sees you. You don’t understand the goddess that he gets to be in the presence of every day. Every fucking day he gets to be in your orbit, and he’s thankful, but you’re looking at yourself like you hate what you see. Even as a teenager you didn’t have this much self esteem issues, and he wonders what Scott has ever said to you to make you doubt your beauty, despite your flaws.

You turn to look at him, and quickly your vision falls to the vanity in front of you, twiddling your fingers on your gown. Andy places a bookmark in his book, laying it down on the nightstand before walking into the bathroom with you. Standing behind you, while his hands trace down the sides of your body. Circling his arms around your front before he pulls you into him.

His nose inhales your newly bathed scent. Slowly making his way higher before nipping at your jaw. “Doe, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie, and one hand moves to your breasts, the other trailing further south. “Andy,” his brow furrows as he looks at your reflection. That sounds like a plea for him to stop. “Why are you with me?”

Sighing, he rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands stop, but they don’t leave their spots. Andy only looks at your reflection, “Because I love you.”

“Why?” If he could get away with it, he might kill Scott. You are a woman that is now going to question his motives because of Scott. He knows that Scott choosing Taylor hurt more than your ego, but these feelings are deeper, coming from a place of Scott words.

“You’re my best friend. You are the strongest woman I know. You make me laugh, smile, get excited to come here, and one day I’ll be going home to our family. I love seeing you be a mother, and how fiercely you love your kids,” your waterline fills with tears. No one has ever told you they love how you are a mother. It was just something that was expected of you. But hearing it from him is nearly painful. A pain that reverberates through your body because you believe him, and his words are strong. It’s a love that is so powerful it stings and overwhelms.

“You’re a damn good cook. And I love watching you in this element. I love watching you move on top of me in the mornings. Your whispered moans as you use me. I love watching you sleep. You don’t have to be doing anything, and still I love it.”

“That sounds so creepy,” you manage to huff out a laugh, and wipe away stray tears.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, but your beauty is more than your looks,” his words turn into moans as he kisses your body. Slowly taking your nightgown off you, and your hands immediately cover your stomach in shame. Everything in here with all the lights and the mirror is intimidating.

Andy sinks to his knees as he descends further down. Leaning around your body as he kisses on your arms, using his hands to pull your arms off your body, and he ghosts his lips over your belly. Saying your name like a sweet prayer with every tender touch of his lips.

“I will spend everyday worshiping you, and reminding you how perfect you are for me as long as you do the same. I will lift you up from the depths of whatever pit that Scott left you in because I need you. I love you. And I will give us a baby,” waterfalls of tears pour down your cheeks and still his lips linger. Going lower, and lower before kissing your covered core.

“I’m not giving up on you, on us, on expanding our family because Audrey and Suede are part of my family. I get all of you. Every bit of it, and I’ve always wanted it. I’ll take you in any shape or form because it’s you I want. I want to grow old with you. I want to sit on our porch in rockers, and watch our grandchildren play. You are what I’ve always wanted,” you whimper as he licks a strip up the gusset of your panties. Hooking his fingers in the elastic before pulling them slowly down your body.

He smiles at your exposed core. Desperately moaning at the sight of you even though you don’t have a thigh gap or you’re thicker than when you first were together. Despite your older age, he still stares at you like you’re a work of art. His look has never changed. His tongue roams through your split, and you spread your legs further apart. Stepping back to give him more room, and he moves to your front, sitting on the floor, while he desperately eats your cunt.

Pulling you nearly over him, and his hands roam over your naked body. His hands working you over. Loving you wordlessly. Using his hands to show he wanted your body in this form, and any form you gave him. Scott tried so many times to ruin you. Mentioned how it wouldn’t be long before Andy wanders, too because you wanted too much. And there would never be a man that holds up to your standards. Except, here he is, sitting on the floor, feasting on you like a five star dinner.

“Watch yourself,” he pants, staring up at you, and you glance down confused. “I want you to see just how amazing you look when I make you come. When I taste you, and make you moan, watch,” his face buries back into your warmth, but he keeps his eyes on you. He kneads and tweaks your nipples, and you grind over his mouth. Trying to watch yourself despite the embarrassment until the pleasure becomes too much. Watching while you enjoy the way he makes you feel.

“Andy,” he pinches your nipples harder. Rolling them in his fingers, while you let out the most beautiful mewl. Too loud, so he stops. “Andrew Barber!”

Andy maneuvers himself out of the floor, and gets right in your face as his thick hand rubs off the slick on his beard. His hands grab the hemline of his shirt, and he pulls it off his body, and then pulls down his boxers. “You’re too loud, and will wake up the kids.”

“But it feels too good,” whining because why is he a god in a man’s body? Why is sex on legs? Able to make your pussy throb, and cry for him.

“Pouting is going to get you nowhere,” he steps behind you, pressing a hand in between your shoulder blades, and adds pressure. Leaning you forward before gathering your slick on the crown of his cock. “But I will fuck you, while I cover your mouth. I’m going to make you stare at yourself, while I pump you full of cum, and breed you like a bitch in heat,” your mouth falls open, and you start to say something but he lays a hand on your mouth, and in one thrust, his cock stretches you wide open.

Yipping when he slides all the way home, “You talk too much. Just enjoy the ride,” that hand on your mouth never moves, but he grips your hip tight as he crashes into you over and over again. “See how your eyes get all glossy and wide because I’m fucking you? How your body moves every time that I fill this cunt like no one else ever has. That’s because you were made for me. You are mine. All mine, and I will fuck you until you swell with me. Our other babies are going to fawn over you. They’re going to be so excited to see their mama happy and full.”

You preen. Your back bows, but you’re watching him. He’s so sexy when he’s slightly angry. When his only determination is giving you what you want, his baby. It’s all so much. Overwhelming. You feel everything, see everything, “Keep your eyes on you,” you try, but he’s too beautiful. “Doe! On you!”

He spears into with so much force that you see stars, and watch yourself. He’s so rough, and yet, your body takes him. Takes every thick, hard inch of him. You were meant for him. You were meant solely for him. To give him a family that he’s always wanted. The new tears in your eyes are something else entirely, they’re the realization that you were for Andy. Good enough for him. Enough for him! The perfect man you could ever imagine, you were enough. And it is addictive. You’ve always been addicted to him. Always longed for him.

You tug at his arm, and his hand moves to your neck. “I’m good enough,” you plead, trying to keep your voice quiet. “I’m good enough for you.”

“You’ve always been good enough,” this isn’t love making. This is fucking, and fucking hard. It’s claiming you. It’s possessive. It’s demanding. It’s what you need. “You’ve always been mine. And you will always be mine,” he grunts, and crashes his mouth into yours. Aggressive, and nearly cruel, and you love it. You love when this side of Andy comes out. When you are the only one that sees that darker side that lurks just below the surface. He saves himself losing his cool on you.

Something pissed him off today, and your pussy suffers in pleasure. Your body tightens. Keeling as you start to lose the ability to stand, letting his hands hold you up. He gives each nipple a hard squeeze, and you scream into his mouth. Swallowing every aggravated grunt. Losing the function to be human as pleasure soaks over you like a warm blanket.

Andy’s hands slap on your belly and in one hard, pounding, deep thrust he shoots his load into your belly, and you feel it expand to take every drop. Your walls flutter, milking every bit, while he pants into your mouth. Pulling off your lips, he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “I promise you, Doe, I will fuck a baby in you. And I will never stop trying. It will happen. And you can look that doctor in the eyes, and tell him that he was wrong. You’re mine, and I will see you pregnant. I will have every experience with you.”

“I believe you,” panting, he pulls his softening cock out of you, but a hand covers your mound. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping it in there, while I walk you to the bed. And then I’m going to watch myself, leak out of your hole, and I’m fingering it back in there. This is the one. You’ll see. This is it. This is our baby.”

“I hope so, but if it’s not, can you fuck me like that again?” Waddling back into the bedroom he pushes you onto the bed, and then he’s back in between your legs, covering your hole again. “Do you need a front row seat?”

“Yes,” you giggle, and Andy smiles, kissing a line from one side of your pelvis to the other. “It’s so sexy to know I’m in there. And I’m controlling it. And it’s sexy to see you push it out. It’s sexy to watch you swallow it after it’s been in you. It’s sexy to see me drying on your skin.”

You run your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him, “Andy, I want to see you watch me leak of you,” that mouth quirks up, and he moves his hand. Staring at you like this was a blockbuster movie, and you push it out. His breathing hitches as thick rivers of him spill out of you.

Instead of immediately pushing it back in, Andy gathers some on his finger. He lifts his hand, and starts writing across your pussy. My god, he looks like a teenage boy, smiling mischievously. His finger moving over you sweetly despite being covered in cum, “What are you spelling?”

“You can’t tell?”

“I felt an ‘A’.”

“Andy’s,” he chuckles again, before looking at your gaping hole. “This is the best thing. Your pussy is a mess,” and he slides the rest back in. Pumping his fingers into your wet heat a few times. “You slut. Are you getting off on this?”

“Mhmm. Make me come on your cum, daddy.”

“Such a slut,” he didn’t want this to last. He wants you to come, so he can make you clean him off. He pulls out all the stops. Curling his fingers, adding a third one, and you’re already lifting off the bed. Already leaking. So wet. Squelches echo into the bedroom, and it’s the best lullaby. “My personal slut.”

Your orgasm comes way too fast as the calluses of his fingers massage that special spot. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into you, and just before you moan too loudly, you cover your mouth, letting your body reach that perfect height when everything falls down. Clenching your eyes closed, and when you open them, Andy is hovering over you with messy fingers.

“Open up,” you obey, and he holds out his fingers for you to suck every bit of your essences off him. Moaning just as much as he is. “That’s the one, Doe. I just fucked a baby in you. I just know it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cocks up an eyebrow, and your eyes get so heavy, “Because this,” you lay both hands on your belly. So sleepy. “This is Andy’s.”

“Damn right it is. Go to sleep, little deer. I’ll clean everything up, and unlock the door, okay?” You smile, and nod. Letting beautiful dreams of unknown children, and your two oldest run around in a big backyard. What a dream. What a beautiful dream.

Next

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[planetkiimchi]

in the end we still burn | d.sc

featuring: guard!winwin x royalty!reader

word count: 993 words

taglist: @slytherinshua ,, @welcometomyoasis

warnings — arrows, almost killing, blood mentions

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An archer in the back let loose his arrow, aimed straight for your heart. The air in front of you hardened into a barrier, and the arrow slammed into it, dropping straight into your open palm.

Slowly, your lips lifted into a smile. Your brother leapt over the stands and dashed for the front of his army, a shield and sword being handed straight into his hands.

He stared straight into your eyes, his gaze filled with a bright fury, challenging you to take him on. You stood unhurriedly, taking a few steps forward. Sicheng assumed his position diagonally behind you, gesturing for the rest of the guards to get into formation.

“Let’s be civilised and take this outside,” you suggested. In the corner of your eye, you noticed with relief that Guan Heng was taking the chance to evacuate the civilians in the courtroom.

Your brother cocked his head to the side, his entire body swaying, twirling his sword leisurely. “What if I say no?”

Guan Heng signalled a thumbs-up to indicate that everyone had left as he came running up to you. He stood on Sicheng’s left, drawing a dagger out, light on his feet. Not for the first time, you felt grateful that you had found him.

“Then you’ll be sorry.”

Your brother’s forces surged forward at his command, but they left you a wide berth, leaving you staring your brother down. Older than you, crueller than you, taller than you. Always wanting more, always hungry.

You supposed you missed the times when he wasn’t like that.

He plunged his sword forward, and you side-stepped the blow, unsheathing your sword. The jewelled hilt sat comfortably within your grip, light glinting off its polished surface.

You parried each of his blows, barely having time to catch your breath. He was always the better swordsman between the two of you, but he had stopped focusing on improving his swordship since your parents died, while you persisted, determined to prove your worth, even when the people whose approval you sought no longer lived.

It didn’t take long for you to switch from defence to offence, lunging at him. His expression grew wild, crazed even, and your eyes narrowed when he suddenly disappeared from view, and you immediately blocked him from using his powers, causing him to freeze as well.

He materialised in front of you, the tip of his sword just in front of your neck, the fear in his eyes unmistakable. You loosened your hold on him, allowing him to speak, but not allowing the rest of his body to move.

“Still not good enough to beat me using your skills alone, are you? Go on then, attack me while I’m defenceless. Go ahead and kill me,” he sneered.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Remind me again, who was the one who used their power first?” You took two steps towards him, the rest of the world disappearing before your eyes as you focused only on the man in front of you.

The cause of your joy and your anger, the person who had taught you to be hungry for power. The reason you had come into such a strong power, the reason your parents were dead.

Your brother was so much to you, and yet, he deserved to die. You knew it, and your sword-holding hand itched to do it now.

Yet, you decided that it was not right to end it that way. You loosened your control over him, and said, “We will fight fairly, without powers. If you lose, you will admit defeat.”

“And if you lose?”

“I will not.”

The words were just barely out of your mouth before he was attacking you, but you had spent years watching him practise, emulating his every move in admiration. You knew his ticks and his tell-tale giveaways, things he would never know about you simply because he had never cared.

It was all too easy to knock his sword out of his hands, pressing one edge of your sword into his neck as you backed him up against the wall. Somehow, you had gone from one end of the courtroom to the other, and his chest heaved, breathing heavily.

You took the chance to catch your breath, glaring at your brother. He smiled guilelessly, knowing he had lost, fair and square.

“I admit defeat,” he declared in a low voice. “Kill me now, if you dare.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, pressing against the sharp blade, and blood trickled from the small incision. There was no escape for him now, and his fate depended entirely on you.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have hesitated.

“Y/n!” You turned your head at the sound of Sicheng’s voice—why had he called you by your name, especially in front of all these people—and came face to face with an arrow, before it struck the invisible shield of air in front of you and fell to the ground. Your eyes widened when you noticed Sicheng’s arm was bleeding, his attacker having taken advantage of the distraction to wound him.

He stumbled into your arms, and you noticed how severely outnumbered he was. You took hold of the soldiers’ consciousnesses, forcing them to stand still, muscles rendered useless by your power.

“Enough.” Your voice rang clear in the courtroom, bouncing off the walls of the now-silent courtroom. “Arrest them.”

The guards went first for your brother, who was no match for them, unarmed and outnumbered. Slowly, they handcuffed each of the soldiers who had been involved in the fighting, one guard to two soldiers. You noticed just then, how even your skilled guards had been horribly outnumbered, and you felt a pang of guilt at not having stopped your brother earlier.

Guan Heng sheathed his dagger, dancing around the soldiers and coming to stand behind you, awaiting your next instruction. Sicheng straightened up, and met your concerned eyes with a nod. I’m okay.

Then everything went black.

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