#if youre on mobile and this did not cut for you: i am so terribly sorry

[bug-is-snug]

starved pt. 2

part one

plot: you're a zombie <3 CW: depictions of violence, depictions of obsession, gore, self-cannibalism (stay safe cutiepies!), blood, gore, eventual smut (That means Minors DO NOT INTERACT), self harm (I think? I'm not sure but I'm adding it to be safe!), military inaccuracies, dead dove do not eat kinds of stuff

A/N: let me know if I missed anything with the content warnings! Also please forgive me for the terrible accents, I am but a small humble person with the brain made of v8 juice- Also some of this was written on mobile so forgive me if there are any grammar errors ^^; banner by: @frostthecupcake (deactivated) and found by using "Find A Banner"

You felt your face grow warm as your mind went back to the sight of your Captain's wrist. Well- mainly his veins...God, he had lovely veins... You imagined grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth in, tearing away at his skin and tendons with gnashing teeth...while you daydreamt you couldn't help but wonder; How sweet would his flesh taste? Shaking your head profusely, you let out a huff and continued to head off towards the barracks while ignoring the emptiness in your stomach. God, you could feel the blood running down your throat, warming you far better than any hard alcohol... "Stop it." You hissed quietly to yourself, as if you had any control over the thoughts that ran rampant in your mind, "Don't think at all, just shut up!"

Taking a moment, you lean up against the wall and desperately try to gather your thoughts. Your stomach growled almost angrily, making you let out a frustrated groan. "Hungry?" A familiar voice cooed playfully, their Scottish accent giving away their identity instantly. You look up to see Soap, your heart instantly beginning to race. Your eyes scanned over his body while your nose took in his scent, which allowed you to recognize that he had just gotten back from the shooting range, the smell of his musk and the gunpowder making your head swim. "Uh-" Christ, you sounded dumb, "Maybe? I dunno, I kinda skipped lunch today...though I do hear that your body can make you hungry when you're exhausted so- uh- maybe it's that?" ...WHAT? Where did that even come from?! What kind of stupid excuse is that?! Soap raised a brow, staring at you for a moment and giving away that he was also just as bewildered as you were over the shit you just said. "...I am going over here now." You quickly walked around him, attempting to make it to your room. "Hold on now, that dinnae make a lick o' sense. What's goin' on wi' ye?" A strong, calloused hand grasped at your forearm making your heart jump to your throat, "Ye alright, lovie?" You shuddered slightly, digging your nails into your palms as thoughts of tearing your precious teammate’s ribs apart and sinking your teeth into his heart while it still beats made you feel dizzy and your stomach ache. What would it taste like? Sweet? Savory? How much would you be able to devour before someone else stumbles upon the sight? You quickly interrupted your own thoughts as you blurted out, "I think I'm sick is all." Soap hummed and reached over, pressing his hand against your forehead. "Ye dinnae feel sick, ye feel cold to be honest, lovie..." He muttered. "Sarge-" You were cut off by his hands feeling up the scruff of your neck and under your jaw. "Sorry, mate. My mum used to do this to check if me or my siblings were sick..." His voice was low, as if he trying not to spook an injured animal. "Sarge, I'm fine, honest-!" You tried to reason with him. You knew he was telling you the truth, but you also knew how he was. To clarify, while the relationship between you and Soap was rather handsy it was usually a welcome action and when it wasn't, you would tell him and he would back off. The touches the two of you would share sometimes bordered on inappropriate, but it often didn't go much further than that. It was a very intimate relationship, one that could be missed if someone didn't have a trained eye. However, it wasn't quite romantic...just intimate and sometimes intense-

Looking into his eyes, you could tell that while he was indeed just checking up on you, there was a small sense of enjoyment at the fact you were letting him casually paw at your sensitive skin. You let out a soft hiss in pain when he pressed down on a particularly tender spot, "Johnny, too hard..." "Sorry, lovie..." Soap said quietly, letting go after a moment. "It's okay..." You assured him, "What's the prognosis, Doctor MacTavish?" He chuckled at your teasing and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yer feelin' a bit stiff is all. Probably from yer god-awful posture." "Then I am going to do what I was planning to do and go take a nap. I should probably tell Gaz...I was gonna eat lunch with him today..." You said, disappointment heavy in your voice. "I can tell 'im fer you, lovie. Dinnae ye worry yer little head ‘bout it." Soap smiled, reaching over and giving you an affectionate pat on the shoulder. A sigh left your lips as you gave him a relieved smile, "You'd really do that for me? Thank you, Johnny..." He smiled back, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Yer welcome..." You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow which made him chuckle and give you a wink before he walked around you, leaving you on your own as you finally made it to your room. You remembered the last time you retreated to your room when feeling unwell while you stared at your bed, closing your door behind you. It was a few days after the attack... Your body felt like it was on fire, especially where that damn doctor had bitten you. Your heart raced and your arm felt like your veins had poison coursing through them. You had refused to let anyone know, nor let anyone take care of you going as far as to barricade the door. Stupid? Yes, but what were you supposed to do? Let the teammates whom you trust your life with every single day know you're unwell? Ask them for help because they're your found family and you would drop everything to take care of them if they were in this state because you love and cherish them as people? Cringe- You groaned in pain, curling up in your little bed while digging your nails into the fabric, tearing them effortlessly much to your surprise. "What the fuck?" You huffed out, grimacing as you stare at the ruined sheets, "I just bought those..." Was that what you should have been worried about? Absolutely not, but you have to cope somehow. The pain was unbearable, but the worst of it was the fever and the fever dreams that came along with them. Well, you called them fever dreams; they actually appeared in your mind when you were awake. And most of them were really just...urges... Visions of ripping people apart filled your mind. It felt so real...you could feel your fingers digging into some faceless person's skin, tearing apart their flesh and ripping apart their ribs while they screamed and thrashed. The more skeptical part of your mind shoved it off as just an edgy little thought that you had as a courtesy of watching so many horror movies with Gaz, just a silly little spout of aggression. No, it was the thought of eating the person that got you to worry. It was the thought of burying your face into their warm body and sinking your teeth into their heart that scared you. The worst part of it was the fact that your stomach growled every time you imagined chewing and swallowing, like a forbidden fruit... Blood spilling down your chin like you had just bit into an apple after days of neglecting your hunger became a feeling you craved desperately. "Please just be a really fucked up version of the flu..." You whispered, "I swear to everything that is good and holy if it's not-" You were interrupted by a sudden sharp pain in your stomach, making you cry out. Burying your face into your pillow, you let out a quiet sob while you clung to it. Somehow, you felt embarrassed about how much pain you felt. You've taken bullets for fuck's sake! You have broken bones, dislocated joints-! And a little stomachache is making you cry?!

"What the fuck...?" You muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Upon seeing the literal puddle of it in your hand you cringed, “Mm…that’s nasty…”

Sitting up, you use the headboard of your bed to keep you steady while your head pounds and begs you to lay back down. You huff, leaning your head against your arm for a moment. This fucking sucks. There is no denying it!

Your nose is pressed against your flesh, and you catch a whiff of yourself…Oh my…

Your stomach beckons you, and in that moment, you don’t even care. How can you? You’re starving!

So…

Without a second thought…

You sink your teeth into your wrist with a sickening squelch, tearing through veins and muscle. And, God, if it didn’t taste lovely…

Back To Current Day…

You sit down on your bed, running your fingers over the stitching you had done over the once torn sheets. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough!

With a sigh, you lean against the wall, staring at the ceiling as you reach over and gently touch your forearm, your fingertips sliding across the edge of the bandage. You didn’t really want to check if the wound was still there…but you didn’t want it to get infected either.

Your eyes glance down as you kicked off your shoes, scooting into your bed while your hand slowly peeled the bandaid off. You expected infection…a festering, pulsing and pus filled one…however, there was nothing. Your wrist was completely healed, like nothing happened-! How…?

You shake your head as hard as you can, as if it would shake the thoughts away. You ball the bandaid up and go to the trashcan, tossing it before going to your sink and rinsing your hands off. This isn’t so bad, right? It’s- er- not ideal, but it’s something! Maybe you should keep a journal of your changes- No. Too risky. If anyone found it…

Your eyes closed as you lean against the counter, inhaling through your nose while your leg bounce uncomfortably, “I can’t see a doctor…I really should but-! …What if I hurt someone…?”

You found yourself doing that a lot; whispering to yourself, fighting yourself…etc…

But that’s neither here nor there, it’s time to eat.

You started to head to your mini fridge, kneeling down before it and opening it up to take a package of raw meat out. You tear it open with your finger, feeling yourself begin to shake…

Shoveling raw meat into your mouth was not a good feeling. Did it scratch that lizard part of your brain? Yes. But social norms taught you to be disgusted with such bad manners-! However…as you sunk your teeth into the raw chicken breast, you ripped and tore away at it, feeling yourself grow more and more ravenous as it you continued. It tasted pretty okay for the most part, which is what surprised you the most.

Tasted like chicken, obviously, but the raw flavor added to it somehow? It was so hard to describe! But…then those thoughts came…

You were imaging the meat belonging to Soap, your beloved teammate. You felt so dirty and perverted…

‘This isn’t normal,’ You reminded yourself, ‘This is NOT. NORMAL!’

You didn’t even realize someone else had entered your room until they cleared their throat, making you snap your attention to whomever it was.

Oh shit.

[something-tofightfor]

Black Days 2: Seize The Day (Pull The Trigger)

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,900

Rating: M (language, mention of prior terrible relationships.)

Summary:  Tim gave you his number - but will you use it? And if you do, are the answers to your questions the ones you hope for? 

Author’s Note: The response to the first chapter of this story was overwhelming. I never thought that anyone would care so much about a mobile game ad character ... but that’s what Pedro does, I guess. 

Thank you all for reading! 

Chapter title comes from “The Day I Tried To Live” by Soundgarden.

Masterlist / Chapter 1

The answer turned out to be almost two days. 

While at home between the end of your main workday and your shift at the diner, you were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Your shift at the office had drained you. Your only goal was to go home and get a quick few hours of sleep before you had to go back to work. But once you’d changed into a pair of shorts and a worn t-shirt and climbed between the sheets, you doubted that sleep would come. At least not right now. 

 When you turned onto your side to look at your bedside table, you chewed on your lower lip, thinking. The folded paper was right next to your phone, exactly where you’d set it the morning you brought it home. The longer you waited, the more anxious you got - and you didn’t know why. 

He’d approached you. He’d asked you out, and told you that it was your decision. He’d made his interest clear, and reiterated that what happened next was up to you. So why am I waiting? You knew the answer, even though you didn’t want to admit it. But there’s only one way to know for sure. 

Reaching for the phone and the paper, you dialed the number and then rolled onto your back, holding the device over your face. Maybe he won’t answer. Maybe he’ll ignore the call since he doesn’t know my number. 

So you pressed “send” and then lowered the phone to your ear, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting. If he doesn’t answer I’m not going to leave a message. I’ll just… 

“This is Tim.” He picked up on the fourth ring, his tone clipped but not angry, and after a short pause, you cleared your throat. Here goes nothing.

“Tim? Hi. It’s -” 

He cut you off and said your name, his tone softening. At that, you relaxed against the mattress, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you called.” 

“Are you?” He agreed, the line going silent. “That’s good to know.” Bending your arm and putting your free hand under your pillow, you tightened your grip on the phone. “I don’t want to keep you for too long because I’m sure you’re at work, but …” Wetting your lips, you nodded. “I want to say yes to dinner, Tim. It sounds like a lot of fun, but …” 

“But what?” You heard noises on his end of the line - the sound of people talking in the background, the squeak of what sounded like an office chair - and for a few seconds, you wondered what his workplace was like. But that’s why I have to ask. 

“But I need to know a little more about you first. You said you live in Willow Creek, and I know your full name, but … what do you do Tim? What kind of job regularly keeps you out until the middle of the night with a folder that size?” 

“I was hoping to be able to talk about this at dinner, but…” He cleared his throat. “Let me go outside.” You waited for almost a minute, the sound of the man’s breathing through the speaker loud in your ear. Outside? Why does he need to go outside? “You still there?”

“Yes.” Your heartbeat quickened, eyes fixed on the ceiling directly above your bed. “I’m here.” 

“Alright, so…” He sighed, the sound loud in your ear. “I figured it’d come up in conversation in person. It’s usually easier that way, but …shit. I’m a detective.” A cop. He’s a cop. 

“Oh.” You frowned, closing your eyes. “I guess it makes sense, with the files and the notebooks and the weird hours.” Just ask. Just get it over with. “Did you choose my restaurant for a specific reason? A case?” For me? 

“No, I chose it because of the pie, I told you that.” He laughed, the sound short. “But seriously, it’s close enough to my place that I can go there if I can’t sleep, or when I get out of the office before I go home. It’s quiet. The coffee’s good, though it’s been better than usual the last couple times I’ve been in.” 

“Tim, I -” 

“I work for the Sacramento Police Department.” He said your name, pausing. “I have for the last seven years, which is about how long I’ve been a detective. Before that, I worked in San Francisco. Was there for about 10 years, and then decided to move back home because my mom was still here.” 

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, loosening your grip on the device in your hand. “You’re a detective? Not a PI?” 

“No, not even close.” There was another pause, and when Tim spoke again, you heard interest in his voice. “I don’t work for myself and no one seeks me out independently, though a couple people have tried.” 

Ok. This is … this is good. This is … “Tim?” He hummed, waiting. “If you’re still interested, I can explain why I was so curious over dinner next Tuesday.” You trusted what he was telling you, because it would be easy enough to look his name up and find out whether or not he was being honest. And he knows that, too. 

“I’m interested.” He said your name and then cleared his throat. “Very interested. And I know it’s cliché, but there’s a really good Italian -”

“Yes.” You agreed almost automatically, a warmth spreading through your body along with excitement - something you hadn’t experienced in months. “Italian sounds great, Tim.” 

— 

You didn’t see him that night at work, but on Saturday, you were busy wiping down tables when you heard someone say your name. Turning your head toward the sound, you grinned at the sight of him - coat draped over one arm and his fingers curled around the handle of his briefcase. “Hey, Tim.” Pointing with one hand, you continued. “Your table’s open. I can bring you a cup of coffee to start, but you’ll have Nicki afterward.”

“Why’s that?” He rested one hand on his hip, tilting his head to one side. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No, actually…” You finished what you were doing, folding the damp towel you held. “I got cut early. There’s no one in here, so I’m going home. Nicki and Jesse are going to handle things.” 

“Oh.” He frowned briefly and then nodded, taking a step closer, though there was still plenty of space between you. “That means you get to go to bed a couple hours early tonight, right?” That would be great, wouldn’t it?

“Mmmhmm.” Smiling brightly, you hoped that he hadn’t seen the brief flash of uncertainty on your face. “It’ll be nice to -”

“Or,” he interrupted, drawing his lower lip back and between his teeth, his eyes on you. “Or we could both leave, and we could go grab a coffee from somewhere else right now.” 

It was late at night, and you barely knew the man, but you wanted to say yes. “What about Tuesday? I thought -”

“Oh, I’m still taking you to dinner.” His smile grew, the man’s eyes wide and bright behind his glasses. “But what I’ve got to work on can wait until tomorrow. I just figured … I’m not even sure what I figured, but …” 

“I live about fifteen minutes away from here. North of here, so that would be the direction that we’d have to go in, because -”

“Ever been to the 49er?” He raised a brow, waiting. “That was my go-to before coming here, but since it’s a truck stop, it’s nowhere near as quiet.” 

“I have been. Their bar is pretty convenient.” He laughed at that, agreeing. “And it puts us both pretty close to home, so… want me to meet you there?” 

“Yes.” Tim’s smile grew, his eyes darting away from you and toward the kitchen. “I’ll head out now, how long do you think you’ll be?”

“About ten minutes? I have to count out my -”

“Go. Before a group of fifteen walks in and they decide not to let you leave.” Someone’s excited. 

Biting back a laugh, you told him you’d see him in a little while. 

When the man turned and headed back toward the lobby, you made your way to the kitchen, dropping the rag into one of the dirty towel baskets. “What was that about?” Nicki was standing next to Jesse, the girl’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the guy from last week. You two were -”

“Yeah, it’s all good. He was working on a case but it had nothing to do with me. We talked about it.” Waving her off, you smiled. “It’s all fine, I promise. He’s actually really nice.” 

“If you say so.” She glanced past you, eyes on the dining room. “Are you heading out?” 

“I am.” You closed out your shift on the screen, counting down your tips and then doling out a few dollars for Jesse, the rest going back into your pocket. “If you’re sure you can handle the rest of the night.” 

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Morning shift gets here in a couple hours, no big deal.” She eyed you warily, but didn’t say anything else. What is there to say? When you looked at Jesse, though, you saw the man was positively giddy, his eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lighting. Don’t even say a word. 

“Have a good night.” He winked. “See you Monday?” Yeah. You will. 

A few minutes later, you were crossing the parking lot to your car, keys in hand. The drive from work to the diner was an easy one, and at a little after 1 am, you knew that there’d be no traffic.  

You weren’t nervous as you headed north on I-5, but as you passed the Garden Highway exit, you realized how excited you were for the opportunity to talk to the man in a different setting. And he’s excited too, so that means… 

There were a lot of things that it could have meant, but the most important was that for once, you were on the same page with someone when it came to the way you were feeling. And that’s a nice change. 

Smiling as you parked the car, you gave yourself a few minutes to fix your appearance. You straightened the hooded sweatshirt that you’d thrown on over your uniform, applied lip gloss, and swept your fingers carefully beneath your eyes to wipe away any traces of smudged eyeliner and mascara. There. That done, you stepped out of the car, grabbing your bag and keys. Here goes nothing. 

Tim was waiting for you just inside the doors, the man’s coat and briefcase nowhere to be seen. He was still wearing his glasses, though - and both of his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. Oh, he … wow. No one should look this good in a truck stop in the middle of the night. “You made it.” 

He sounded genuinely happy, and as you nodded, the man leading you into the dining room with one hand at your elbow, you relaxed further. “I did. There was no one on the highway, so it was quick.” 

You slid into the booth across from him, but before he could reply, the waitress appeared, asking for your order. Tim spoke first, his head turned toward the woman standing by the table. “Just coffee, please, and whatever she’s having.”

“Coffee here, too. And can I get a side of the fruit?” The waitress nodded and then made a note on her pad. She then turned away, leaving the two of you alone. “I usually snack on something about now at work, so I hope that -”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s fine.” Tim leaned back in the booth, both hands resting flat against the surface of the table. “So.” He tilted his head to the right, eyes on you. “I’m glad you said yes.” 

“I’m glad you asked.” He winked, opening his mouth to answer, but your coffee arrived, along with glasses of water. “Thank you. It -”

“Your fruit’s coming. It’ll be a few minutes.” The server set a small bowl with sweetener and a container of cream down on the table, the woman not even looking at either of you. “Enjoy.” Yikes. She doesn’t give a shit about her tips. As she walked away, you looked at the man again, finding an amused expression on his face. “Is that another reason you decided not to come here anymore?” 

“Yeah, the service is … not as friendly here.” He picked up his cup and took a sip, nose wrinkling. “And the coffee’s not as good, either.” 

That broke the ice, the two of you starting a conversation that was little more than pleasantries. But as soon as the bowl of fruit and silverware were delivered, that changed - and Tim didn’t seem afraid to take the lead. 

“You seemed surprised when I told you what I did for a living.” He reached over, grabbing a grape and popping it into his mouth. “Why?” 

“No. Not… surprised. That isn’t the right word. I guess it just … threw me off a little.” You sipped your drink and then frowned. “Do you just take general cases, or do you work in a special department? I don’t know what I can ask, so if you can’t answer, just tell me.”

“This isn’t the CIA.” Tim laughed, running the fingers of one hand through his already messy hair. “I can’t talk about individual cases, but there’s nothing keeping me from telling you what I do.” He took a deep breath, never looking away from you. “I prefer to be called a criminal investigator that focuses on homicides. But the truth is that I take on a lot of other types of cases, most of the time.” Homicide? So he catches killers? 

“Interesting.” You ate a piece of fruit, chewing thoughtfully. “That’s an important job, Tim.” 

“For the people involved, it is.” He shrugged. “I just like helping when I can, and I’ve always been good at piecing shit together, so … why not? Why not get paid for something that I enjoy doing?”

“That’s how I feel about what I do, too. At my main job, I mean.” Taking a long drink of water, you met Tim’s eyes, noticing for the first time that he was leaning in toward you. The man’s attention was unwavering. It sent a shiver down your spine, though the reaction was a positive one, his focus something you enjoyed being the recipient of. “It’s definitely not as exciting as your job probably can be, but … I’m a project analyst, so I have to work with a lot of facts and figures. I put puzzle pieces together every day, but in most cases, no one’s trying to hide anything.” 

“That sounds like a hell of a lot of work.” Telling him it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, you shrugged. I’m used to it. “So if you’re doing that, why are you also working overnight in that diner? Your day job sounds like it’s more than enough to keep you busy.” 

You hadn’t thought that the topic would come up so quickly. But since it had, you were determined to keep from shying away from it the way you wanted to. Because I don’t want to lie to him. 

“I just started a few months ago. Last year, I was working regular hours at my main job, but … things changed around the holidays.” Fingers closing around the end of your straw as you twirled it through your water glass, you looked down at the movement of your left hand. “My relationship ended, and even though I kicked him out, my place just seemed too empty when he was gone. Too quiet at night, and I couldn’t sleep, so … I decided to get out of the house as often as I could instead of trying to fill it with noise.”

“You picked up a second job because you couldn’t sleep over a breakup? Must have been some breakup.” You have no idea. His voice dropped lower, and when you looked up at him again, Tim’s brow was furrowed. “You said you work what, four nights a week some weeks?” Nodding in agreement, you waited. You’re not going to tell me anything I don’t already know. “So when do you sleep?” 

“I catch a couple hours between jobs … and during the day on my days off, mostly.” Rubbing at your forehead, you shrugged. “It’s not so bad, though. I like being awake at night, there’s fewer people. If I have to work overnight, by the time I get home I have enough time to take a quick power nap before it’s time to go in to my main job. It gets me through the day.” Lifting your coffee, you held it out to him. “So does this.” 

“I have trouble sleeping, too.” He scoffed, head shaking back and forth. “Sometimes it’s details of the cases, other times it’s just that shit’s too loud, you know? Can’t shut my brain off.” 

“Cheers.” You raised the coffee mug, holding it out toward him. “Look at us, coping with our bullshit in an extremely unhealthy way by staying out all night and consuming our weight in caffeine every day.” He snorted but clinked his mug against yours, joining you as you took a sip. 

“The difference with me is that I can catch an hour or two at the station when I need it. We all do it, especially when we work 12 hour shifts.” Must be nice. “And on the nights I do have free? The ones I don’t end up in a diner somewhere with my case files?” He shrugged. “There are a couple other ways that I relax and get my mind off of work.” That … doesn’t surprise me.

“Ah.” You picked up the last piece of fruit, taking a bite out of it. “So is that what this is? Are you hoping to use me to -”

“No.” His head whipped back and forth, Tim setting the cup down. “Not at all. You’ve been a nice change in my routine, but…” His fingers wrapped around the mug, eyes locked on you. “But I’m not thinking past dinner. And now that I know how little you sleep, I’m starting to think that maybe I should have suggested taking you somewhere quiet to nap instead of out to another place that reminds you of work tonight.” 

“I have all day off tomorrow. I’ll get some sleep then.” You sipped your water, the ice cubes clinking against the inside of the cup. “And as soon as I can end my lease, I’ll move out of my place, and start trying to sleep normal hours again. A change of scenery is probably what I need, but until then…” This is what I can do. 

“I hope that’s soon.” His words were genuine, and when Tim nodded - the almost imperceptible movement of his head accompanied by a small smile, you gave him one in return. It will be. “But I’m serious, if you’d rather use Tuesday night to relax, I understand.” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me, detective Rockford?” Biting the inside of your cheek at the way his eyes flashed at your address, you held back a laugh. I’ll remember that. “Rescinding your offer for dinner now that you know a little more about me?” 

“No. Now I just want to make sure you get some sleep and aren’t dead on your feet for more than half of your work week because you can’t sleep at night in your own damn house.”

“That’s direct.” He nodded, his smile widening. “But no. You asked me to have dinner with you, and if I’m being totally honest with you? I haven’t been out on a date in six months, Tim. And I’m definitely not going to back out the first time someone’s asked me.” 

“What?” He leaned closer, pushing the coffee mug out of the way and lacing his fingers together. “Six months? You haven’t -”

“I said it was a bad breakup, didn’t I?” Reaching up to grip he back of your neck, you lowered your head briefly. “Probably shouldn’t have let it get to me the way it did, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.” 

Tim was silent for a few seconds, the man studying you intently. What are you thinking? “If I’m overstepping, please feel free to tell me to fuck off, but …” He took a deep breath. “You asking what I did, and then assuming that I was a PI when I said I was a detective was for a reason, right? Did … do you think that your ex would have sent someone to keep tabs on you? Is there something that I should know about him or about you?” 

“You’re good.” You drained your coffee, staring down into the cup. “It crossed my mind for a few seconds, yes. And I wouldn’t put it past that asshole to have someone watching me, but I don’t even know what he’d be looking for. And honestly? I don’t think he cared enough to spend money on hiring someone to follow me around. He never made it seem like he did anyway.” 

“Christ, are you -” He pulled his glasses off and set them down on the table, his free hand rising to rub at his forehead. “If you lived together, then it must have been pretty serious. Why would you think he didn’t care?” 

“He was never physically abusive or anything like that, Tim. And I guess he wasn’t emotionally abusive, either - at least not in the way you’d think.” Taking a long drink of water, you looked away from him and out at the dining room - a few of the tables filled. I didn’t plan on talking about this, but …”He just didn’t… try, you know? Wouldn’t make any decisions, wouldn’t talk about what he wanted, didn’t really have any plans for the future, and when I got sick of it, that’s when he tried to make me believe he wanted more.” You shrugged. “It was only after I said I was done that we really started arguing over things, and he told me he didn’t want to think about me with anyone else. And then before he left for good, he told me that I’d regret ending things with him. He said he’d be around when I finally realized that I made a mistake telling him to leave, so -”

“So you thought that he might have someone else keeping tabs on you so that you didn’t notice him doing it.” You nodded, giving him a sad smile. “Well, I can promise you that isn’t what I’m doing. Light stalking isn’t in my job description, and anyone that would have someone do that to someone else is … not someone that I’d want to associate with.” 

“I know. It’s dumb. But I just … I don’t know.” You rubbed at your eyes, both of them closed. Congratulations on ruining this before it even goes anywhere. 

“Is that why you can’t sleep? Because you’re worried that he’s going to send someone to watch you? Or just because there are memories in the apartment, and part of you wonders if you did the right thing?”

“Both. Mostly the second thing.” Picking up your napkin, you began folding it, though you weren’t watching what you were doing. Instead, you were fixated on a point in the distance, just over Tim’s left shoulder. “Like I said, I think it was an empty threat, so it’s just that … I kind of miss having someone else around. He wasn’t always good company, but he was company, and it’s easier for me to sleep when I can hear someone else. I got used to having a roommate, and now without one, I just … think too much..”

“I have a white noise machine.” He grinned, sipping from his mug. “It only works half the time.”

“Tried that. Tried music. Tried leaving a TV on. Tried playing something called “people noises” from YouTube. No luck.”

“You need someone else there to sleep, I need something quiet to focus on… it’s too bad we can’t nap together, seems like we’d balance each other out.” He wasn’t wrong - though he hadn’t outright said it, it seemed like on the nights Tim wasn’t thinking about work, he found the company of someone to help him sleep, focusing on another person enough to quiet his mind and let him get rest. 

And even though the videos had helped slightly, there was nothing that could compare to the feeling of the mattress dipping as someone shifted next to you, or the sound of them breathing in the darkness - each warm exhale washing over whatever part of you was closest. 

“If only.” Wrinkling your nose, you gestured to your purse. “Aren’t there apps that let you find someone to cuddle with? Maybe there’s one for a nap partner. Like dating apps but only for -” 

“That sounds horrifying.” His eyes widened. “Just inviting some stranger over to your place to hop into bed? Someone that you met through an app?”

“So you don’t use dating apps then?” You reached for the water glass, tilting it toward yourself and frowning at the fact that there was barely anything left. “Isn’t that how people hook up without having to do all the work of meeting someone by chance?” 

“I never said that.” Tim held up a finger. “But there’s a difference between hooking up with someone and sleeping with them.” He wasn’t wrong, and as you returned your eyes to meet his, you opened your mouth to agree. The man shocked you, though, by continuing, his gaze never wavering away from yours. “I’m more than willing to offer myself up instead of you looking for someone random. We don’t know each other well, but uh, I’ve been told that I’m one hell of a cuddler, so -” 

Do I even want to think about that? Because … it wouldn’t surprise me. Look at him. 

“Oh?” Your smile widened, both hands flat on the table. “Didn’t you just say it was weird to have a stranger over? That there was a difference between -”

“I did, and there is.” Tim finished his coffee, leaning back against the booth. “But that changes nothing.” Tim angled his head and then shook it. “Maybe if dinner goes well on Tuesday, you’ll be curious enough to find out sometime.” 

“Why not tonight?” It slipped out before you could stop it, and as you realized what you’d said, you gasped, shaking your head back and forth. Oh no. I shouldn’t have said that. “I’m kidding. Tim I -”

“I don’t have to go in tomorrow.” He paused. “As of right now at least. That might change, but I planned on working from my home office, so… if you didn’t want to be kidding…” Is he serious? “If you think it would help you sleep, I’m all for it.” He is serious. 

“But you don’t know me. We’ve only talked a few times, and -”

“I know enough. And it’s not like I’m suggesting that anything happen, right? Just … hopefully a good night’s sleep for both of us.” He looked down, checking his watch. “It’s still before you’d be off of work, and I only live a few minutes away, so -”

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.” You glanced down, swallowing hard. Am I really considering this? Looking up again, you made your decision when you saw the slight part of his lips, Tim’s eyes wide in surprise. “I live in Harbor Oaks.” Setting the napkin down, you straightened your shoulders. “So I’m legitimately around the corner from my place right now. I can … I can go home and change, and -” 

“I’ll text you my address.” He leaned forward, reaching out for you with one hand and settling it over yours. “And if you decide not to come, I’ll understand. Just … lt me know, alright? That way I’m not waiting for you for hours.” 

“Ok.” His touch was light, though his hand covered all of yours - the weight comforting. “And if you decide you don’t want me to -”

“If you stay over,” he started, leaning in further and saying your name. “I’ll make you breakfast when we wake up.” He cooks? How the fuck is he single? “And I don’t mean just cereal or eggs. I mean breakfast. Whatever you want.” 

Ok. Ok, so he wants this too. He … he was really inviting me over. “Then I guess I better get out of here, hmm?” 

“Go. I’ll flag down the woman to pay.” He squeezed your hand and then let it go, pulling his back to his side of the table .”Don’t overthink it. It’s just sleep.” I believe him. I don’t know why, but I believe him. 

You thanked him for the coffee before standing and grabbing for your bag, glancing over at him. “I’ll see you in a little while?” What the hell am I doing?

He pulled his wallet out, setting it down onto the tabletop before looking up at you. “I hope so.” 

—

Tag list reblog coming soon! 

[littlestsnicket]

wednesday sprint review time: 3/3 tasks complete this week!! i did it! did i complete one of the tasks this morning? yes. but it still counts! baffled at how i did this when i didn’t start any of the tasks until monday evening, but yay!

notes on short terms plans and using ellipsus under the cut

corset kink fic is coming along nicely. i am really really happy with what i have written and have reached the horrible point of ‘hm, i’ve hit all the emotional beats i though i needed but there needs to be more sex for pacing reasons’. that really means i need another emotional beat but i don’t know what it is yet. i’ll figure it out eventually but i am not terribly optimistic about completing that task this week, but we’ll see.

i also put this fic in ellipsus, which has been… most of it is fine but i need to enter some support tickets and if they don’t fix them or explain their use cases better i may decide it’s unusable. the biggest problem is the way the comments nest—the comment thread literally displays in a random order so having any kind of back and forth with your beta reader is a huge problem. also the draft and merge feature? seems really cool in theory but the way it actually works is insane and makes no sense? there doesn’t seem to be a conflict resolution process? when you go to the merge screen it will diff the files but then you can’t edit? you’d have to go back and make your edits in the draft and push the whole thing to main. which… no. especially since you can have multiple drafts. that could make sense as a use case if you could only had one draft, but no! i do not understand?!? and you can’t just not use the draft functionality because you can’t make comments in the main doc (which is both how i leave myself notes as i’m writing and communicate with soymimikyu during beta reading). but the biggest problem, especially in mobile view is how hard it is to easily see what draft you’re working out of. and it doesn’t hold state in terms of what draft you were in if the page reloads. which, fair, that’s hard, but then you need a lot more visual hints of what the state is. i made a whole bunch of changes in main instead of the draft i thought i was working from, and then since the merge conflict resolution sucks it was very messy. and if it had been a longer fic…

anyway… i’ve not given up on this yet, but it may be in a come back to it once they’ve worked some things out thing.

i reread what i have of manic pixie dream jaskier, and on the one hand i really like a lot of it and that gave me renewed motivation to work on it, but on the other hand, it is a fucking disaster in terms of pacing and structure and having a cohesive point. it’s ok. we’ll get there. i’m going to attempt to write what i currently think the end should be and see if that helps. it usually does.

hopefully it’s not suspiciously nice out this weekend and i actually do writing and iwtv watching :)

[luxmaeastra]

Drakon held the match to the candles relighting them. He didn't look up as she turned from the corner from the private prayer rooms.

"Drakon? What happened? Are you -"

Drakon looked up as Pythia moved toward him. He dropped the match, watching the flame curl and go out. The wood too stained to catch fire. His entire body ached, so exhausted with what was happening.

He remembered a different temple, a different God asking to be worshiped. The light so much brighter than his own. He'd done anything to have that god keep looking at him.

"What are you willing to give up for this?"

He'd thought His Heart was an easy answer. He'd spent years killing it and denying it air. Surely it barley survived now didn't it? An easy lie he has happily swallowed for years. Till a service, till the music had drowned anything else she had said. Sometimes it still happened and he knew without knowing that if he stepped over that line...she'd die with him.

That he'd watch her die a horrible, excruciating death.

He stepped toward her, his fingers trailing on the wax and wood. The ash from incense coating his fingers.

"Do you think you can step around fate Pythia?"

She rose an eyebrow at him. And he swallowed the glass in his throat. So beautiful, lit by candles and dappled sunlight. She was painted in the stained glass light. A painting come to life and he wished he was stupid enough to ask for the royal artists to paint her like this.

He wished for a moment for the courage his father had. He'd hung paintings of his mother everywhere, had happily given her new paintings of moments she hadn't known she'd been watched. If there had been sad moments between them, if there had been anger he'd never seen them. Even if Micah said otherwise, they loved her just as much as they loved him. It was guilt that kept them away from her not hatred.

He would die with that belief. He has built his entire world view around that belief.

Pythia's face smoothed, the ring in her eyebrow and nose winking as she moved.

"Me as a person? Or do you mean you in the collective -"

"You. You Pythia. Do you think you can outrun it?Do you think you can change it?"

She reached for his cheek, and for a brief moments the aches in his body quieted. With her this close even his blood sang with it.

"Would you be helping me Drakon?"

"If you think you need me too I will. I'm not as brave as you think I am Pythia. I -"

He turned from her moving to the pews, the sacred they'd been cut and molded from. Smooth, warm like the touch of a parent. How he missed them sometimes, so deeply he wished to fall into the unknown to drag them back.

Those were the days he found Pythia or Micah, to keep him on the straight, on the road he'd built for himself.

On the path others had entrusted him with.

"You'll die if you follow me. It'll be terrible, excruciating, I -"

He forced himself to look at her.

"Hypaxia did this to me. Valter is mobilizing to take my throne, I'm going to give it to him. Our boy is too smart for this. I can't - too many will die if I don't step down. Maybe that makes me a poor king and even weaker Valg. Would you come with me if I did? Would you follow me knowing the fate you're trying to outrun?"

He stepped back toward her, his voice breaking. Holy, she was holy and he was marring her by every moment he stood in her presence. Every moment he touched her, every moment he didn't worship her and simply tasted what she offered - he was insulting his Goddess.

"Would you be mine if I finally choose you Pythia? Would you entrust me with your heart if I give all of me to you like I should have that day?"

A wise leader, even if he didn't see it. He had already weighed out all the pros and cons of this, he had reviewed the consequences if he denied such a demand. The loss of life trumped everything else, the loss of life had already been too much as it was.

It was time to step away, it was time to disappear and just choose to live. No more greed, no more fighting for power. Her expression was soft and understanding as she reached out, her fingers brushed against his cheek as she tilted her head.

He may have thought her holy, yet how did he not see that he was not marring her with his presence? No, instead he helped her be better. He helped her love and feel whole, her love filled every action she took.

"You ask so many questions," she told him softly. "You know what I would choose Drakon, you know I would follow if that if the path you choose to take. I may be a priestess, but even my vows mean little without love. Love is a balance."

She stepped closer, pulling him to her as she pressed her forehead against his. "I am yours, I always have been."

[what-if-i-just-did]

Guilt & Revenge: Wound Cleaning

Whumptober, Day 16: Wound Cleaning

Guilt & Revenge Masterlist

Writing from this POV was intriguingly difficult for me. I also kept forgetting to deadname Amber which is just plain inconvenient. I'm posting on mobile rn so I might edit tomorrow to fix the formatting or something. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy, and lmk to be added to the taglist.

TWs: catholic whumper POV, religious whump, long term captivity, victim blaming, torture (cut by knife, nongraphic), unprofessional first aid, being strapped down, threats, (intimate-ish whumper? Kind whumper? Is that a thing?) and mentions of blood, praying, taser, and Hell

Mercedes looked at Dom, staring hatefully at her from the corner of his bed where he’d curled up. She’d come in with a plan but.. he probably needed medical attention. Well no shit, but maybe she could… Maybe.

“I am going to take that table into your cell, strap you to it, and use a knife to cut your upper back.”, she said. Well that seemed to get his attention. It was probably the first time any one of them had been so upfront with him. “If you lie still, don’t talk, and don’t fight back, I’ll clean the cuts after I’m done. With medical alcohol. If you struggle or try to fight or cuss me out or anything like that, I’ll taser you when I’m done and leave you strapped to the table. Do you understand me?”

She could see his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, nodding. Mercedes was slightly surprised, but not shocked. He was bound to eventually start being more complacent.

Mercedes did exactly what she’d said she would, and she could see the apprehension in Dom’s eyes, the disbelief at his own actions when he reluctantly obeyed her directions to lie on the table, to hold his head or limbs this or that way so she could properly tie him down.

She could hear the grunts as he ground his teeth, probably trying to keep from using some sinful word or another. She rubbed circles into his shoulder with her left thumb as she cut up his back. He was taking his punishment much better than any other she’d seen or given him. She’d have to remember that.

Dom was getting what he deserved. He was just one of many sinners, but Mercedes was proud that she got to assist in his justice. He would suffer for his deeds in Hell, but this way he would do penance earlier. And it was clearly God’s intention. Sending her Eileen, Paul and Hugo was the clearest sign she’d ever been given, and she was so grateful.

When she was done, she concluded that Dom had followed the guidelines she’d set, and she went to get him his reward. A moment later, she was back with medical alcohol and some toilet paper. Dom froze when she walked back in. After a second, she realized he’d probably thought she was leaving. Dismissing the thought, she opened the cap of the medical alcohol.

Mercedes held the folded toilet paper over the mouth of the medical alcohol bottle, quickly turning it upside down and right again. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Somehow, it felt like it should be more of a solemn moment. Wordless. Like praying.

Carefully sitting next to Dom’s hips on the cheap table, she started cleaning the wounds she’d just made. A bit of a feeling overcame her, and she was about to silently pray when she realized the toilet paper was doing a terrible job of disinfecting the wounds.

It was coming apart in between the blood and the medical alcohol, leaving behind little pieces which was definitely the opposite of productive for what she was trying to do. Of course. Sighing, she got up, looking for something else to use.

She came back with a kitchen towel, and firstly wiped up the mess of blood and sweat that was Dom’s upper back. Methodically, she wetted a clean corner with the medical alcohol.

As she cleaned, Mercedes silently prayed for Dom. That his suffering would one day be enough to cleanse him, that he would be forgiven. She heard his sharp inhale when she brought the cloth down on the wounds, and she could imagine it stung. She took no joy in it, no satisfaction of a punishment doled out well. She just did her job and did it well.

Pondering, she wondered if there was a way she could use Dom or her feelings about their situation for a song without being too incriminating.

When she’d finished, she undid the straps keeping Dom on the table, and slightly helped him get off, so she could take the table back out of the cell. She tidied up the straps, and locked the cell back after her. With a lingering glance at Dom, she walked out of the room and up the narrow boat stairs. It was sunny out, and there were chairs on the deck.

…It’s not like she had anywhere to be any time soon. Oh, why not? She deserved a reward too. Sitting on the deck in the sun, it felt peaceful. Humming made-up melodies, she tried out words and phrases for a new song, completely unbothered by the actual person crawling to his bed in his cell just below her feet, growing anxious over the lack of hearing her leave.

She had other things on her mind, and, after all… he deserved it.

[legacyofacat]

[17] Nimbus Try I: Arpeggio of Hurt Steel

The sky was pulsing red and blue, the light coming through the heavily filled rainclouds like rolling thunder.

"Admiralty Code representative, flagship Yamato, contacting everyone."

Zeitwächter narrowed her eyes: Iona.

"This is Flagship Command. I repeat: this is Flagship Command. I command all vessels to cease attacking – from now on, the Fleet of Fog will live according to its own will. That is an order.

This is the last order of Flagship Command."

And then, the voice which was no doubt Iona's, cut off as suddenly as it had appeared, taking the pulsing with it.

"What was that?"

"I don't know; a Fog weapon, maybe?"

There had been humans flocking together and staring at the sky in partial fear and awe the moment the light had first appeared, but they didn't dare ask Zeitwächter for answers as her dangerousness had been well incorporated into their minds.

Said battleship was neither blind nor deaf, though, but she had better things to do than answering human questions, especially when she felt stirring on her ship.

Zeitwächter turned and began sprinting along the port, hearing with half an ear how the message was replayed on mobile phones and other tech systems – most likely by doings of SW2 – collected Churchgrim on the way and jumped on her ship, the seagulls screeching loudly.

They made a final turn around the superstructure and came to a sudden halt.

Maya had been left behind on the ship as it was the safest place for her bare Union Core, but now she was standing there, staring at her shaky hands with big eyes.

The battleship motioned for her brother to stay where he was, before treading forwards carefully and touching Maya's shoulder: "Maya?"

Her head snapped up – she seemed to have noticed the newcomer only now.

Zeitwächter was a bit unnerved actually: "How much do you remember?"

That was when the dam broke: Maya's eyes teared up and she barreled into the other with a sob, holding on as if she would die without doing so: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-", she choked on a sob, "I'm so sorry!"

I see, Zeitwächter thought, hugging the suddenly very small creature back and sinking to the ground together: "Did you know when they were in control?"

A nod.

Whenever I-400 and I-402 had been controlling her, it was as if she had been locked away in her own body, like watching someone else talk to Kongō and doing all the fun things that suddenly weren't fun at all anymore – it had been terrible, it had been terrifying.

She was more often in control than not, her actual character accidentally fitting in so well with the program the submarines had written that she could get by with being herself, but it was always hanging over her head like a damocles sword.

In the end, Maya hadn't been strong enough to win against the program and had been caged time and time again, only to have her consciousness slowly cut off due to a chain reaction caused by the Sentokus forcibly shutting down the system.

The last thing she remembered were Kongō's tears.

Zeitwächter allowed Churchgrim to come near – Maya wasn't a danger like that – and he immediately jumped towards them to cheer the heavy cruiser up.

He made a questioning sound while touching the brunette with his nose softly, but she only hid further inside Zeitwächter, so he turned big puppy eyes to her.

What am I supposed to do?, she mouthed.

Churchgrim ended up lying down beside them, making sure to lie on Maya's legs as much as possible, head on his sister's lap.

After a few more minutes, Maya had calmed down enough to sit up again and rub at her eyes blearily, one or the other sniffle still leaving her: "Ok."

"Ok?"

She nodded.

"Alright then. How are your systems – everything alright? No errors?"

"I don't think that my Union Core is alright, but I'm fine."

Zeitwächter nodded – that was as much alright as she would get considering that the Union Core really wasn't perfectly fine: "Welcome to the club of questionable Union Core integrity, now let's get you cleaned up."

She rose to her feet and offered a hand to Maya, which she took gladly: "Okay."

They moved inside, Zeitwächter whipping out a wet towel from God knows where to clean the girls face, said brunette seated on a chair and petting the dog during it: "Will Kongō return soon?"

"Mhm", the other, sitting on a table in an effort of not having to bow down too much, hummed, "she just lost her best friend, so it's going to be a lot for her."

"I thought I'm her best friend!", Maya pouted.

"You are, allow me to rephrase, I misspoke: her sister-in-soul just died, so it's going to be a lot for her", she corrected without hesitation as if having waited for the objection.

The heavy cruiser blinked up in confusion: "What's a sister-in-soul? Is it like a soulmate?", a dramatic intake of air, "has she fallen in love!?"

"With me hopefully", Zeitwächter closed Maya's mouth manually before the next stream of questions, "how are you and Nagara somehow the exact amount of chatty but on different scalas?"

Nagara was at least mostly talking to herself or sharing a lot of fun facts about whatever duty she had finished after delivering the most important info beforehand – Maya actually wanted to converse.

…In her defence, though, since her best friend was Kongō, she was most likely more than just accustomed to carrying a conversation.

She grinned and shrugged, making Zeitwächter sigh.

Annoying.

That reminded her of Kongō, which in return reminded her that Kongō wasn't here, which then made her sad.

"Are you alright?"

"I miss my wife…"

Churchgrim whined in tune. -- Further North, Vanisher approached the crew of I-401 floating in their lifeboats: "Heyo~ do you need a cab?"

They looked up at the Mental Model in surprise, seeing nothing of the shyness they had heard so much about.

Though, honestly, at this point they couldn't care less, so they just climbed up the blue hexagonal platforms when they appeared and then watched as the ship brought the floats aboard: "Welcome on board, everyone – do you want to eat anything?"

They looked at each other, before Gunzō answered for all of them: "No, thank you. A bit of rest would be better."

"Sure thing!", Vanisher waved a hand at the silent Mental Model waiting at her Anton turret, "if it's alright for everyone involved, then SW2 here can lead you to rooms."

SW2 nodded when they looked at her.

"I'll gather my ships and Kongō", the flagship continued, "and the Blue Fleet if they want and then return to Germany – you can continue homewards from there, if you wish."

"Thank you", Gunzō said, obviously tired without needing to sleep.

Seeing as everything was seemingly said, SW2 began leading the humans under deck, the group following the submarine with worried glances and one or two hushed whispers – SW2 was creepy.

Vanisher's insides weren't without light, but SW2's dark clothing blended in so well with the shadows that it seemed as if she would periodically disappear into them only to return a second later – to add to that, she didn't even make a sound!

The submarine was the most silent walker the group had ever seen and that ever-present mask was just a blank black thing, which heightened the creepiness level considerably.

They would have worried less if worrying hadn't been a conscious effort to not think about the fact that they had just lost one of their best friends.

--

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[eazy-group]

Yolanda lost 135+ pounds

New Post has been published on https://eazydiet.net/yolanda-lost-135-pounds/

Yolanda lost 135+ pounds

Transformation of the Day: Yolanda lost 135+ pounds by creating a healthier lifestyle and believing in herself. This is not an overnight success. She worked for many years to determine the right mix of exercise, eating habits, and mindset.

Social Media: Facebook: Yolanda Anderson  Instagram: @journey2absyolanda

What was my motivation? What inspired you to keep going during the tough times? My motivation to keep going was the fact I really didn’t like myself, and I didn’t want to be that version of myself any longer. 

What inspired me to keep going was that I had tried and failed soooo many times. I just felt this time, if I failed, I would die. I didn’t think I’d get another chance to change my life. I was in a very abusive relationship and felt the only way out was to begin believing truths about myself instead of lies. 

How did you change your eating habits? I changed them very slowly over time. I began with not drinking soda. I continued to eat what I wanted but eliminated the soda and drank fruit juices. I lost about 7 lbs just from that alone!!

Then I cut out the juice and just drank water. Next, I cut out different meats, some I reintroduced, lol, but I cut out certain meats for the time (like red meat and chicken). I also began to add green smoothies to my diet daily and intermittent fasting. That was a game-changer. Now, I eat high-protein meals and manage my calories. 

What is your workout routine? I began by just walking. Then, I hired a personal trainer and started doing more HIIT-type workouts. 

I got really serious and hired a group trainer. He is the best. His name is Derron Flood, and his gym is Fitness First (look him up if you’re in the VA area). He specializes in strength training, HIIT, and bodybuilding. By working with him, my body really began to change. I began to build muscle but was constantly hurting myself, so I started taking kickboxing classes and Muay Thai to get me to move in other planes of movement. That was a little better, but I still didn’t like how I felt, so I began cross-training, and now I’m into mobility training. I like doing a little bit of everything to keep my body moving fluidly. 

How often do I work out? I began working out like six times a week, sometimes twice a day. I didn’t like how my body looked then, so I started cutting down my workouts. 

Now, I strength train about 3-4 times a week. I always make sure to use a day for some form of cardio and another day dedicated to functional movements. I stretch almost daily and work on my hip flexors daily. 

What was your starting weight? I began at over 300 pounds. I am not exactly sure because I wouldn’t look at the number, and I told the doctor not to tell me. I had a woman doctor, and she was kind of mean. She did tell me I was over 300 lbs, which was terrible on my 5’2″ frame. I cried in front of that lady…smh.

What is my current weight? I am proud to say I now weigh 165 pounds. I could weigh 168 pounds, but that is only due to the muscle I’m building. I remained the same weight for years as my body changed. It’s important for women to know this. The scale won’t move as quickly when you’re building muscle while losing fat.

What is your height? I am 5’2″.

When did you start your journey? I began my journey in June 2015

How long did your transformation take? My transformation took approximately eight years and still counting. Losing fat while gaining muscle takes time.

Is weight loss surgery part of your journey? I’m very proud to say no!! I have nothing against those who used that tool. I wanted to use it too at one time, but I couldn’t afford it, lol, so I went this route-through diet and strength training. I’ve become my best self that way. 

What is the biggest lesson you’ve learned so far? My biggest lesson is not to rush or go “beast mode.” I ended up hurting myself way too many times. I have also learned to be kind to myself and speak positive affirmations over myself and my body parts!! That has also been a life changer!!

What advice do you have for women who want to lose weight? My advice is to make up your mind first. Make losing fat a lifestyle and not just for an occasion. You’ll be that much more successful if you change your mindset. 

Also, stay consistent. I stopped and began soooo many times, but I just kept it up. I never gave up, even if I took a couple of months off for mental health reasons. I just got back to it when I could.

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[poetka]

Had an insane day today and by insane I mean completely normal and actually below average thanks to tossing around at night and staring at my thesis for 8 hours straight at work but. I've been feeling so good today!! For absolutely no reason!

Left for work before 7:30 so I calmly strolled to work listening to an audiobook about possibly the worst scientific fraud in modern history: Andrew Wakefield fantasising about the link between MMR vaccines and autism. Spent all morning finishing the stuff I've been unsuccessfully (or successfully, depending on how you look at it) torturing myself with over the weekend (data analysis for techniques I don't really understand), thus completing the results section. Did some more work on the thesis, pretty much didn't move from my desk, and the day flew by incredibly quickly. It was kinda cold so I wore the gloves that I carry even though it's the middle of August and it's my first time living abroad over the summer and not melting in the Polish heat # thanks_to_global_warming. My manager cancelled our meeting again. I agreed to rep the company at a university fair. I entered a raffle to win tickets to a local agricultural (?) festival with a dog show in it.

I got my first response to all the job applications (a rejection to even interview me). Stepped into a wet spot on the carpet in socks. Probably water but could have been dog pee. I went for a walk randomly picking a direction I've never walked in before and saw many gorgeous rowan trees so I played Czerwone Korale even though I have to pay for mobile data now. Also saw a sick cherry tree (as in diseased, not cool) and the biggest quince tree I've ever seen if that's even what it was. The moon was a beautiful thin sickle tonight and yet the evening was still bright. Somehow ended up by my workplace. Briefly regretted not having my badge on me to go in and get a cup of tea until I realised missing your work badge is a crazy thought to have on a Monday at 9pm.

Then I walked by a store that was still open and stopped by to pick up frozen chicken-free burgers. My card declined (twice) on that €3 purchase. That was because I didn't bring my wallet and had to pay with my phone using a foreign account, not because I'm this broke. I was going to write "about to become homeless" but then I realised that I am in fact about to become homeless thanks to the awful housing crisis in Ireland and my lease finishing soon and having no idea where to look for accommodation until I get a job somewhere. Anyway I got my burgers. Baked one with some sweet potato fries on the side. Obviously ate ⅓ of the burger and half of the fries immediately even though they were supposed to be for lunch tomorrow. Prepared my overnight oats and cut up some fruit for breakfast. Proceeded to spill half the fruit onto a very dirty floor (two dogs in the house currently). Took a shower (normal).

Recollecting the day makes me feel like I'm trying to convince myself the day was terrible because indeed I had a lot of minor-to-medium inconveniences and disappointments today. But I still feel like it was a good day. Is this how people who have not experienced "childhood depression that you never exactly got back to normal from" feel like every day??

[growling]

ep7:

anyway from the previous episode since i forgot...... ranpo was sooooo correct LMAO this shit could have been avoided if they just fucking listened lol. or could it have been written into the book anyway?? idk...... guess we''ll never find out.........

oh fuck now ranpo is being framed too. anyway uhhh has anyone else noticed the uhhh wayyyyy higher stakes in there than in the previous seasons. we serious'd here huh. no more sillying it up huh :(((

whoopsie tanizaki ability is useless now---

ooooh the novel ability alters memories too......... this is bad this is terrible for my poor weak little heart youre gonna make me ill from stress for my beautiful boy ranpo :(((((( poe come here and cheer us up. what if poe actually ends up saving the day lmao hold on for a moment...

RANPO SURVIVED BUT THAT'S GONNA BE AWFUL FOR HIS SPINE!!!!! OWW!!!!! ARE WE GONNA HEAR A CRUNCHING NOISE NEXT SCENE

also i mean. akutagawa is in the intro. let him help his boyfriend i mean rival i mean enemy and then they can kiss i mean fuck i mean fuck i mean fuck sorry i mean fuck sorry fuck sorry fuck so

AND fukuzawa and mori in the intro. speaking of where is fukuzawa the entire time did i forget something

CHUUYA!!!!!! IN THE INTRO TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY ALL BETTER BE RELEVANT

oh yeah akutagawa and his battle buddy atsushi is at least gonna be important judging from the intro woohoo

oh yeah yosano's ability!!!!!! helpful thank youuu!!!!!!!!!!

oh yeah AND kunikida's ability!!!!! i forgot how helpful these guys are!!!!!!!!! cool cool cool +1 for the agency

i realized that one of the many reasons im enjoying this season so much is because of the lack of dazai. yes hahaha stay GONE YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!!!! HEEHEEHOOHOO HAHAHAH

oh yeah its that white moustache guy weve been seeing!!

oh look its that white hair red tips guy whose ability makes me sigh

BANGER THEME

*shrek voice* he doesn't even have any mobility aids .

BANGER THEME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oooo the gangs all here.... banger theme is banging

oooo hello lady..... getting guillaume vibes from her........

oh were the military's memories also tinkered with or were they with them from the start cause i don't think so....... also have i said banger theme yet

oh there you are fukuzawa

i mean this does look way more shitty than you're putting it as kenji but i appreciate your positivity nonetheless

i love teruko she reminds me of guillaume a lot. now im being reminded of guillaume auuurhrhhhgghh *pained noises of pain*

STRAY DOGS NAMEDROP ROLL CREDITS

"does your car insurance cover theft" "yes it does why" "then congratulations" jdfhhjfdghsjkjdgjhdjsdkfj i love the agency's criminal arc

guy whose name i forgot (whose name was said literal seconds ago) just. cutting down every single tree in his way cause he didnt want to make turns jfhghsjdfh

i love how every time a new villain group is introduced they are always made so lovable and now im in a dilemma. do we let the agency obliterate these guys or should they be forgiven and given pets and kissies

oooooh he IS that silly..... and now he's eating hard boiled egg with the shell. he's so silly. you were correct white hair red tips guy whose name i also forgot

KENJI JUST GOT YEETED OUT THE CAR. WHOOPSIE

also that silly guy i just spoke of is kiiiiinda hot i mean uh

NEVERMIND THEY JUST HIT HIM WITH A CAR. THE SILLYNESS IS BACK

oooh kyouka so that's where you are!!! how did you get here. was it the novel again or.....

oh the silly guy's name is tetcho. remember that <- is probably gonna forget it later anyway

"oh, he's a little mad from being ran over" YEAH I SUPPOSE HE WOULD...

plum blossoms in snow is such an odd name for a sword related ability but we'll gonna see now i guess.....

OH FUCK THE NOTEBOOK. THE NOTEBOOK GOT SLASHED. OHHHH. WHOOOPS. WHAT UH. WHAT NOW. is he gonna be able to get a new one orrrr. because UH OH

if yosano dies i am killing somebody (dazai probably)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CHUUYA!!!!!!!1 CHUUUUUUUYA!!!!!!!!!!! CHUUYA IS HERE I SAW HER VOICE THAT IS CHUUYA CHUUYA THANK YOU. HOW MANY TIMES HAS CHUUYA FUCKING SAVED THE DAY AND HOW MANY TIMES WAS HE FUCKING THANKED???????????? NOBODY FUCKING THANKED CHUUYA. BUT. CHUUYA. CHUUYA. IM TEARING UP YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

YAYYYYYYYY THE MAFIA IS GONNA HELP :))))))) IM SUCH A HAPPY CAMPER YOU DON'T UNDERTSNAD

also. chuuya really is just the most powerful man in japan huh lmaoo

anyway bsd season 4 let's go gamers

ep1:

still waiting for chuuya to get unbooked. notify me immediately once he gets unbooked i can't take thsi

oh hi fukuzawa. put his wrinkles back on ffs

fukuzawa and ranpo flashback episode pretty please??

LET'S GOOOOOOO

oh oda's the assassin?? killer baby

ranpo voice heard my waters are cropped

i do not accept ranpo being the same age/older than oda. i will not accept this. let oda be like. 30+ or whatever

whys ranpo giving me ouma vibes in this outfit

ranpo don't care sunglasses emoji

oh yeah i had the feeling the secretary was the killer from the moment ranpo walked in lmao. now danganronpa execute him

coolest kid you've never met

good for ranpo for getting kicked out of the police after exposing all their shit as a teenager

snitch ranpo we love to see it it's okay if he does it he can do whatever he wants forever he's never been wrong in his life

orphan lore

oh he's 14 now. baby

"well done for today-" "that's it?? you're talking to a 14-year old who lost his parents his job and his future. thats all you got??" yes ranpo go fight for that sympathy points make that old man cry and shake from guilt

he's so sillyyy......... "*2 seconds after walking out the door* help me mister bodyguard i don't have work or a place to stay im going to die" yes ranpo go fight for that house and income pluck that old man out of everything he got (morally correct). i love how it literally works and fukuzawa says yeagh sure every time

with every single minute ranpo is on screen. i swear. with every single damn frame of that guy he gets more and more npd. like. that is a narcissist. you wrote a narcissist and made him the coolest most swag guy in the anime. and that's not even mentioning that guy's massive fucking autism and adhd

is this gonna be like rain code chapter 2 where where-

fukuzawa sweating voice damn that kids a genius and also deeply deeply unnerving why is he so op in the smarts stats what happened in his early childhood to ruin him forever like this

and ranpo's utterly clueless to that too he just thinks everybody else is an idiot or just acting real weird and hiding what they know for some reason.

"ive only just met you so i don't know much but- *lists his entire fucking biography*"

LEAVE THE BOY ALONE YOU KNOCKED HIM OVER FUKUZAWA YOU MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL ALWAYS BE A CRUEL AND WICKED PERSON YOU WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH YOU HAVE NOT AND NEVER WILL CHANGE IN A MEANINGFUL WAY. CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D DO THIS...............

oh ok he apologized. but can he ever truly be forgiven........

the hat :)

new sonboy acquired

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Seized

An addition to Approval. Do not read this until reading that first. 

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom

Summary: What happens when Talia Al Ghul learns that someone has stolen the affections of her past lover and her son?

Word Count: 3,000 [One Shot]

“Delinquents have been detained. I can hear the sirens,” Damian stated calmly in his comms.

“Good work, Robin. You know where to meet me. You have a minute,” Bruce responded as he whipped the bat mobile through Crime Alley to grab his son.

Just as Damian opened the door and hopped in, an alarm went off within the vehicle.

“The Manor,” Damian thought aloud as he read the screens with his father.

Bruce ignored his comment and was calling Alfred immediately.

“Master Wayne,” the butler instantly picked up. “I followed protocol, but they were already gone when I arrived.”

“Y/N…” Bruce immediately asked.

“They took her,” Alfred told him, distress clear in his tone.

Damian’s head whipped to his father to watch his reaction.

But Bruce’s jaw only tightened and he sped the batmobile even faster.

Returning faster to Wayne Manor than ever before, Bruce jumped out of the batmobile and up the secret entrance to get to the main house.

Damian was hot on his heels. He’d already sent an encrypted message to his brothers, informing them of the situation. It was only a matter of time before they were at the manor as well. Though Damian suspected Jason would not come, instead already starting to scour the streets of Gotham for Y/N and her captors.

Alfred was already waiting for them. “Master Wayne, I am so sorry.”

Bruce ignored him and walked to the master bedroom. Y/N would’ve been sleeping when the attack occurred. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been awake, she had no training in self defense. She was merely an innocent civilian.

“Father,” Damian muttered quietly.

Bruce turned around to find his son ripping a shuriken out of the door frame.

They shared a look, both recognizing the particular shape and color.

“The League…” Damian muttered quietly, saying what they both were thinking.

——————

Y/N was barely awake.

They clearly had drugged her with something to make her more compliant. Everything was foggy and muffled.

Yet they still tied her hands and ankles together, as if her brain could even manage to get her body to move.

But Y/N could feel the effects of the drugs losing their strength, yet keeping their hold on her.

She squinted as she looked around. The air felt different. It was colder and dryer, making Y/N believe that she was no longer in Gotham. Little did she know, she wasn’t even in the country any longer.

“I do not know what he sees in you,” a woman hummed from somewhere in the room.

Y/N blinked as he listened, but her eyes could not adjust to the low lighting and she didn’t even have the strength to turn her head.

“You are weak. Ripped from your own bed without so much as a fight.”

Then she heard the grunts and clashing of metal.

The woman smiled. “Right as expected, my son.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed at ‘my son.’ Then she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings. There were swords and other weapons stored everywhere, and there was armor hung from the walls.

“Talia?” She whispered.

The woman chuckled. “Weak, but not utterly foolish.”

Then the door of the room was thrown open.

Y/N looked to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

“My son, finally returned," Talia greeted with a smirk.

“Mother.” Then his gaze flickered to Y/N. Very subtly, he was scanning her body to access any possible injuries.

His gaze turned back to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You have forgotten where you come from, Damian. You are not just the heir to the Wayne family. Before anything else, you are my son and the heir to Ra's al Ghul’s throne.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Damian said with a gesture to Y/N.

“She has everything to do with this,” Talia snapped. “She has made you weak.”

Damian said nothing.

“She has taken you both from me,” Talia growled.

“Father does not love you,” he growled.

“A small lapse in judgment on his part, but not something that cannot be remedied. Our love gave us you, and I fully believe he will return to me.”

“His heart belongs to someone else. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can give up your fantasy.” Then he hesitated to say the next part. “I never plan on returning to The League of Shadows. I wish to stay with father.”

Talia’s amusement vanished at her sons words.

The next second, she unsheathed her sword. “Perhaps I should just kill her and remind you of your place, my son.”

With that, Damian rushed forward and intercepted Talia’s attack with his own sword.

“Do not touch her,” Damian growled.

Their swords continued to clash as the mother and son fought each other. The fight raged on for what felt like forever. Too evenly matched, but also both too terrible at hiding that neither actually wanted to kill the other.

In the distance, Y/N could hear even more fighting. She could only assume it was Bruce fighting his way to her and his son.

Talia and Damian’s swords locked again, both of their stances shaking from the hold.

“Do you really think you and your father stand a chance against the entire League? Why do you think we lured you all the way here? You are outnumbered.” Talia hissed.

“You think us foolish enough to come alone?” Damian smirked right before there was a boom that shook the entire compound.

Talia’s focus slipped half a second, allowing Damian a window to go on the offense.

He flipped his mother’s sword out of her grip and held his own to her throat.

“Yield,” he growled down to her.

“You truly choose her over your own mother?” The hurt in her eyes was clear.

“You abandoned me, used me as a tool to disrupt father’s life. She taught me that there is more to life than killing and destroying. She loves me and care for me, even when I gave her no reason to do so.”

“And it will be the death of you,” Talia warned.

He glared at her. “Yield!”

But he knew she would never. So he whipped out a dart and blew it to her neck – a sedative.  It knocked her out within seconds.

Waiting until he was sure it had worked, Damian sheathed his sword once again and ran to Y/N’s side.

With a knife, he cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles.

“D-Damian,” her voice was still slurred from the drugs and she was weak. How long had she been here without food or water? “I don’t think I can walk."

Damian helped her to her feet. “Y/N, please try,” he begged as he wrapped her around around his shoulders. He was still just a boy, one that was shorter than her. But he wouldn’t give up that easily.

There was another explosion.

“What’s-What’s happening?” Y/N asked as she dragged her feet and held on tightly.

“That would be Todd, most likely taking his job of distracting to an unnecessary level.”

“You all came?” She asked in shock.

“Of course,” Damian scoffed.

Suddenly an object came flying at them and Y/N cried out in pain.

“No!” Damian bellowed as he looked up to see that another League member was attempting to stop their escape. And with it, they had thrown a shuriken that had landed in Y/N’s side.

She dropped to the ground.

Damian screamed as he unsheathed his sword once again and charged the assassin. It wouldn’t take him long. He knew that every minute spent fighting was a minute Y/N was bleeding out and edging closer to death.

He didn’t hold back like he had with his mother and quickly disarmed the enemy. Then thrusting his sword into a nonfatal area of his body, enough to neutralize him. 

Damian rushed back to Y/N’s side, where a pool of blood was forming from her wound.

He knew it was useless, but he still tried to lift Y/N into his arms to carry her. He cried out in both panic and frustration.

The building had now caught aflame due to Jason’s explosions. Damian would need to call for backup, hoping one of his older brothers could help.

Then a shadow was cast over him.

Damian tensed, believing it to be another attack.

But he looked up to find his father standing before them.

However, Bruce’s gaze was on his unconscious girlfriend.

With the arrival of his father, Damian’s cold and calculating disposition melted.

“She’s hurt,” his voice trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Help her.”

Damian rarely cried. He cried less than grown men. He was raised that way. It didn’t help that his father was not a great example of healthy emotional expression.

But Bruce knew what his sons tears were for: Damian was frustrated, he felt weak, and he thought he had failed his mission. But most of all, Bruce knew his son was crying for fear of Y/N’s death. Because the boy had grown to love her.

As if there were a world when Bruce wouldn’t give his own life to save Y/N.

Bruce bent down and carefully brought Y/N into his arms.

Damian heard her mutter his father’s name, though still delirious from both the drugs he’s sure his mother pumped into her and the blood loss.

“Red Robin, get the jet to my coordinates immediately,” Bruce instructed through his comms.

Damian wondered how his father could be so calm when the woman he loved was bleeding out in his arms. This wasn’t bat business, this was personal. But Bruce spoke like it was just another night of patrol.

A few minuets later, Damian and Bruce had fought their way through the flames and burning compound.

Tim lowered the platform of the jet.

Damian made sure his father and Y/N got on before he followed. He turned and gave one last look at the burning compound that would no longer exist come morning. He did not fear for his mother’s life. He knew someone from the League would come for her – if she didn’t save herself first.

When he boarded the jet, his father already had Y/N on the surgical table that elevated from the jet floor.

Bruce had taken off his cowl, allowing Damian and his brothers to study his expressions.

Damian had been wrong about his father handling the situation like any other mission. For now he could see the terror and worry in his father’s eyes, despite him trying to control his emotions.

Damian looked to Jason, who still had his Red Hood helmet on.

“My grandfather?” He asked his brother.

“Escaped,” Jason muttered.  

Damian stepped forward to help Bruce with Y/N’s injuries.

“She’ll be OK,” he muttered to his father.

All of them had high-level medical training to know.

Thankfully the assassin’s aim was not great and didn’t land in lethal place on Y/N’s body. But she still lost a lot of blood and would need many stitches.

All the brother’s shared a look when Bruce ignored the statement. 

———

Y/N woke up to someone gripping her hand. She recognized from the smell and the feel of the bedding that she was in Bruce’s bed at the manor.

She winced as she opened her eyes to find Bruce was the one holding her hand as he sat in a chair only inches away from the side of the bed.

“Hi,” she whispered to him with a sad smile.

“Hi,” he said back with a smirk.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

Then Y/N looked past Bruce to realize there was someone else in the room.

Damian passed out on the velvet chaise that was pushed against the windows.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Bruce told her. “Dick had to convince him just to take a shower for 5 minutes when we first got back.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the revelation.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice as he said it made Y/N’s gaze snap back to him. Had it shook? Or was she imagining it?

Y/N squeezed his hand that was still wrapped around hers. 

“I know,” she told him with a sympathetic look.

He hid it well, but Y/N knew Bruce. And she knew that her being kidnapped from his own home probably drove him mad with guilt. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already designed an entirely new security system to prevent something like that ever happening again.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He wanted to say that he always feared her being with him would put her in danger like this. 

He wanted to say that maybe she should stay away from him. 

He wanted to say that him and the kids didn’t deserve her. 

He wanted to say that the only reason this happened is because Talia hated that she loved her son better than she ever did.

But Bruce had never been good at saying how he actually felt – or even acknowledging he had any feelings at all.

So Y/N brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Bruce, I know,” she said once again.

“I won’t let it happen again. I promise you,” he told her evenly.

“Bruce, I knew what I signed up for when you told me you were Batman. If I wasn’t willing to face the reality of it, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you hadn’t.”

There was a knock at the door and then it opened a second later.

Damian jumped awake at the sound. But then he quickly brought his attention to Y/N. “You’re awake.”

But everyone’s attention was on Dick, who was standing at the open doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted Y/N, surprised to see that she was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. But I’ll be alright.”

He seemed to relax from her answer.

Then he winced when he looked at Bruce. “They put the signal up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them to handle it, not wanting to leave Y/N alone now that she had woken up.

“Go, Bruce. I’ll be OK.” Y/N told him, reading his mind.

“I think it’s the Joker,” Dick added with a serious frown.

“Bruce, go.” Y/N repeated.

And he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, deciding he didn’t care if his two sons were witnesses to the intimacy.

Then Bruce kissed her forward. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Alfred will be here if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded.

Bruce stood up and acknowledged Damian and Dick. “Let’s go.”

Once they were ways down the hall, Bruce heard Damian stop.

“Father?”

Bruce and Dick both turned to face Damian.

“I wish to stay with Y/N.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look, and then Dick decided to give the two a moment alone and muttered something about waiting in the cave.

Bruce walked back to his youngest son.

Damian’s gaze was glued on the floor. “Mother truly would’ve killed her?”

Bruce sighed. “Most likely, yes.” He saw no point in lying to his son.

“Because she knows that you and I love her?”

“Yes.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. But Bruce knew he had more to say.

“I used to think I had to earn it.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mother’s love. I had to earn it. Win in combat. Successfully execute a target. Outsmart a puzzle or challenge.” Damian looked up at his father with a broken expression. “Her love always came with a price.”

Bruce kneeled down to his son.

The boy shook his head. “But Y/N made me realize that I don’t have to earn anyone’s love. I don’t have to prove that I’m worthy of it.” He bit his lip. “She’s not my father or my brother. She didn’t have to love me. But she does…even when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone is deserving of love, Damian.” Bruce gripped his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for not teaching you that myself.”

Damian nodded. “So, may I please stay with her tonight? I don’t want her to be alone.” But then he quickly corrected himself. “Unless of course, you require my assistance, father.”

Bruce smirked at him. “I think we will manage, Damian.” Then he squeezed his shoulder. “Look after her for me, alright?”

Damian relaxed and quickly nodded his head. “Of course, father.”

When Bruce returned hours later, Damian was cuddled next to Y/N in the bed. But clearly laying in a position to be mindful of her injuries. Both were fast asleep. The bright television was the only thing lighting the room, as it played a Pixar movie.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“I got him,” Dick whispered to him before stepping into the room and carefully lifting the boy in his arms, clearing the space in the bed for Bruce to join Y/N.

Bruce moved about the room as he changed into cotton shorts and went without a shirt.

Y/N woke slightly as he joined her in bed.

“Everything OK?” She whispered sleepily.

“Everything’s fine. Did Damian keep you company?”

Y/N smiled and shifted her body so she was cuddle into him. “Yes…my little protector.”

Bruce smiled at that. “Don’t let him hear the ‘little’ part…”

She chuckled. “Good call.” 

And then she was fast asleep once again.

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

Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 7: Stick To Your Guns

Get a grip on yourself // Get in shape for tonight // Take a look at yourself or your dreams // You're losing sight...

You got to stick to your guns // What's right for you, ain't right for everyone...

Soundtrack: “Stick To Your Guns,” Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

Time passed.

Claire’s sessions with Gillian progressed well. For five mornings a week, ninety minutes at a time, slowly they untangled the path that had led Claire to despair, to addiction, and to The Ridge.

Claire started keeping a daily gratitude journal. For Gillian had helped her understand that she had so very much to be grateful for. Almost every entry featured Jamie – something he’d shared with her, or something small she’d done for him, or a few chords he’d played on his guitar, or a new memory she’d timidly shared – thanks to his quiet, patient encouragement.

Afternoons were for Group, and for recreation. And now that the summer was in full swing, she was volunteering in the garden. It was Glenna’s pride and joy – and grew a healthy range of herbs and fruits and vegetables to be harvested at various points through the summer and served in The Ridge’s kitchens. And Glenna’s passion quickly rubbed off on Claire – who had never gardened in her life, but absolutely relished getting dirt under her fingernails and harvesting from the plants she’d tended to so carefully.

Together with Marsali and Jamie – and a shy newcomer, Elias Pound, barely out of high school but terribly addicted to painkillers – she continued to prep and clear the dining room each evening. With Gillian’s encouragement, she took Elias under her wing, guiding him through The Ridge’s process much like others had when she had first arrived.

And when Elias quietly shared that he wanted to be a doctor – she’d started giving him pointers on what to study, how to focus his energy, and how best to mentally prepare himself for what that life would be like. A life certainly without pills.

Her medical skills had come in handy a few times, too.

There was the evening when Glenna had cut a deep gash in the back of her hand as she’d sliced corn off the cob for dinner. Claire had expertly and calmly sutured the wound, with Elias’ diligent assistance. To the applause of the small crowd that had gathered, watching.

And there was the morning when Geneva had been stung by a bee and had a terrible allergic reaction. Dougal had burst into Claire’s session with Gillian, seeking urgent help. For all that Dougal was opinionated and in charge, he clearly knew when to step back – quickly doing as Claire bade, following her down the hall and bringing her adequate supplies to stop the swelling.

And of course there was the lunch, one rainy day, when Rupert had eaten his roast beef sandwich a little too enthusiastically and began to choke. Swiftly Claire mobilized, and with a few pushes of his diaphragm the half-chewed sandwich spewed all over the table. Everyone in the dining room had cheered.

She had a purpose.

She belonged.

She’d proudly told Uncle Lamb all about it (for patients at The Ridge received phone privileges – one thirty-minute phone call every three days – once they’d been there for two weeks). And Lamb certainly shared her joy.

“You just sound healthier, my dear.” He blew his nose into the receiver. “Excuse me. Claire – I feel awful saying this to you, but I think you’ll understand now. You were so desperately unhappy for such a long time, but you didn’t want any help dealing with it, and I felt utterly paralyzed – ”

“It’s all right,” she reassured him, twisting the phone cord in her free hand, watching through the windows as a few people played volleyball on the lawn. “I wasn’t ready to hear any of it. But now I am.” She paused. “Lamb, I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry for how bad it got, and I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Oh, lovie. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I – ” His voice choked. “I’m just so glad you’re off of those stupid pills, and I’m so glad that you’re getting the help that you need.”

“I’m lucky to have really good people here, who want to help me. To build new habits, and to break the old ones. Did I tell you I’ve really gotten into gardening?”

“Yes! You’ll have to tell me more about it the next time we talk.”

“I will. All right – our half hour is just about up. I love you.”

“Oh I love you, Claire. Stay well.”

She hung up and sighed.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

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

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

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

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[sleepy-dreamers-inc]

Being Exiled with Tommy Headcannons!|| 🥀

irl/ in-game

Genre| angst + comfort

h e a d c a n n o n s||

Sypnosis|

Both you and Tommy ended up getting exiled together.

Artist| OliverSonder on twitter!!

Warnings] mentions of manipulation, character death, spoilers for Tommy’s Exile Arc and the Season 2 finale!!

[can be seen as both platonic or romantic!!]

||gender neutral reader!!||

(also this was not grammar checked and im to lazy to watch through hours of footage so if anything in here is wrong blame it on the DSMP Wiki OKAY LETS GO-)

So i think its pretty established that if you end up getting exiled with Tommy your one of two things.

- Really sweet and loyal friend that will stick up for in-justice and be there when someone needs you the most

Or

- A total fucking gremlin that will steal your kneecaps and toes and eat your shower curtains in the middle of the night.

There is no inbetween here you guys.

I did end up going for Reader A, though. But you guys tell me if you want headcannons for a gremlin!reader because i will gladly do that!!

But anyways just... enjoy exile!

Exile|

- It was about his third day in exile when Y/N appeared through the nether portal, bags, pouches, tools, armor, etc. on their person. Tommy thought they either were here to beat him up or got exiled themselves.

- Tommy was pleasantly surprised when he learned that Y/N was actually there on their own accord, helping him through exile and being his shoulder to lean on. The first few days we’re rough, fighting back mobs in the night and farming crops all day. His clothes we’re starting to get dirty and torn by the time Y/N got there.

- Y/N ended up making a little bunker about 30 blocks from where they’re tent was, where they hid all theirs and Tommy’s valuables, such as armor, diamonds & iron, and rations. Although Y/N never gave into Dream and gave him they’re stuff, Y/N simply refused, they wouldn’t be giving in that easily.

- Most of they’re days are spent in caves mining away, chatting and fighting off Creeper’s as they tried to keep the moral high, always keeping Tommy company. Y/N never let him go anywhere alone, they we’re always with him, like his own bodyguard of sorts.

- One time they both find a Mineshaft though and got lost, they ended up at the surface two dayd later with torn clothes, cuts and bruises and we’re in bad shape. Thankfully Y/N had a brewing stand at they’re camp though, so Healing Potions we’re semi-easy to make/get.

- After the duo end up going to the artic though... things got... weird.

- Techno was not expecting to open his door to find the heathen Tommy and sweetheart Y/N at his doorstep shivering and begging to come inside, bags thrown on they’re shoulders as they teeth chattered from the cold wind and snow.

- Whenever Dream comes to visit Y/N always has to hide with Tommy, reassuring him that its okay and they’ll always be there for him, and protect him at any cost, which he highly appreciates.

- The ‘gapple-eating’ thing Tommy did was a cute, yet depressing thing. Seeing him hasitly munching on golden-coated apples was funny and caused giggles, but the meaning behind it always left Y/N with a lump in their throat and a hole in their heart.

- Whenever Tommy is in danger and calls for Dream, Y/N always has to stop him and bring him back to reality, making Tommy realize Dream isnt his friend, and never was. Many nights have happened where the two talk about Tommy’s feelings with Dream, not only for Tommy to vent and let everything out, but also for Y/N to understand whats going on in his head.

- When going into the Nether Tommy always grips Y/N’s hand, as his fear of lava and heights consumes him whole in that firey dimension.

- When Tommy gets up close to Dream in the cabin? Y/N is scared spineless, if people could see them, they’d see the palest, most terrified and worried being on earth.

- Y/N having a heart attack when Ghostbur slips up

- Ghostbur is just a whole thing and just. Y/N needs a break, okay?

- Y/N begrudgingly helping Tommy build his cobblestone tower outside of Techno’s cabin.

- Y/N apologizing soon after to Techno only for him to laugh and ruffle Y/N’s hair, saying he knows how Tommy can get anyone to any situation.

- Very rarely does Y/N ever leave Tommy’s side, when they do its usually to get supplies or visit they’re friends. So when Y/N was walking back to the Nether portal to see Tommy, Techno and Dream all standing there, looking like they’re about to slit the others throat, well...

- Nobody has ever seen Y/N drop kick a person so fast.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Y/N yelled, they’re sword at Dream’s neck, as he laid on his back, his mask covering his shocked expression.

“Answer. Me.” Y/N gritted through their teeth, pushing their swordfurther against the masked mans throat. Techno soon chimed in, reassuring Y/N that nothing to terrible happened.

“It’s fine, Y/N. He didn’t do anything, why not we head back home? Wouldn’t want that homeless man to be to scared spineless, eh?” Techno said, hand on they’re shoulder as he looked Y/N in the eyes.

The 3 walked back to the Nether portal, purple mist engulfing Tommy and Techno as Y/N stood in front of the portal. Back turned towards Dream, Y/N shifted they’re head and glared at Dream with eyes that could kill.

“Don’t do anything you might regret, you megalomaniac.”

- When Tommy and Tubbo decide to go fight Dream, Y/N is both excited and scared. They hope Dream will finally be taken down, but they dont want Tommy (& Tubbo) to be taken down as well.

- So like any amazing best friend, Y/N brews up a bunch of potions of Strength, Healing + Regen, Invisibility and more. Even if Tommy thought he was going to be walking out of there alone, he wasn’t going to be. Y/N would make sure.

- Y/N watched from afar as Tommy got his disc out of the jukebox, laughing in success. All Y/N did was clap quietly, making sure they’re Invisibility didn’t wear off. They we’re making sure Tommy stayed safe, even if he didn’t realize it. Y/N loved him with they’re whole heart, and everyone knew that.

- At Dreams secret base, Y/N was just getting there as Tommy took Dreams first canon life.

“Tommy. Stop. Dont do anything you might regret.” Dream snarled, looking at the teenage boy, his blue eyes dull, yet full of passion and vigor.

All Tommy did was pursue forward, as everyone waited for what was to come. Tommy took one step to close though, because Dream had decided that he had enough.

Dream brought his arm into the air, hand curled into a fist, he was about to hurl his hand into Tommy’s face when Dream suddenly fell to the ground, arrow in his forehead.

Dream was shot by Y/N

Y/N stood there, enchanted bow in hand, infront of the nether portal that swirled with an eerie purple mist. Y/N lowered their bow, staring at the man who tortured Tommy for weeks now. Y/N simply stepped forward and towered over Dreams corpse before it disappeared in thin air.

Lets just say Dream wouldn’t be hurting the blonde heathen anytime soon.

a/n: howdy everyone how we doing? Decided to do Tommy x Reader for this post, although i am MAJORLY simping for Wilbur atm and i have brainrot so that’ll most likely be the next post (if i dont do a pt. 2 for this one but even so WILBUR).

Anyways i hope i did racooninnit justice, i have no idea how to do headcannons since half the time i ramble (its the adhd) so this was new for me. Definitely not my strong suit but like you live ya learn. Also, sorry if i left out quite a lot, i might make a fic about this and include more events, but this is really long for headcannons (because of my layout) so i didn’t include to much. I dont want people scrolling for like 20 seconds to go to another post (i write on mobile so undercut is not a thing for me RIP)

Anyways have a lovely day and dont let Tommy eat all your gapples!!

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 1 |  Living Well is the Best Revenge or Just Trip Her on the Red Carpet

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom is in Vegas to present at a music awards ceremony and what do you know his high profile ex girlfriend is nominated for two awards.  And the press are having a field day.  Molly Bishop is grateful for the awards show because it means extra tips and getting her closer to paying off her student debt.  An offhand comment by Luke coupled with an encounter with his old girlfriend has Tom’s mental wheels turning.  Perhaps he and Molly can solve each other’s problem.  All they have to do is get married.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom dreaded turning his phone back on when the plane landed at McCarran airport. He knew what waited for him on the other side. Tom wondered if his publicist would buy the story he left his phone back at the bar in Heathrow. Probably not, he had tried that earlier in the year and Luke went ballistic until he came clean. He did not want a repeat of the earful he got back then. With a sigh, Tom switched on his mobile and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, vibrating as messages and emails came in.

Tom never imagined the relationship would end like this. He thought he was in love. He thought she was in love. But it had all been what were the words she used “escape hatch”. Tom had been a means to an end. And the punishment for his naivete was a news cycle that would not die. And that photo.

He waited until he was in the car on his way to the Bellagio before checking his messages. There were a series of several text messages from Luke.

Call me when you get to your hotel room.

Don’t read the papers.

Don’t talk to any reporters.

Don’t do anything until you talk to me.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

This meant only one thing. Another story. Maybe more pictures. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she was attending the same awards show. It ventured to guess the papers would play that up. Tom slumped against the car seat for the rest of the ride.

Check in went fine at the VIP check in. One perk of not only being a celebrity, but a presenter at the awards show. The bellhop delivered Tom’s luggage and garment bag. He pulled the outfit for tomorrow and hung it up, just like Illaria told him to. It was only when he flopped onto the sectional couch, Tom called Luke.

“I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” Luke deadpanned. “I started to worry you would pull that ‘I left my phone at the airport bar’ story.”

“I did cross my mind.” Tom let his head hit the back of the sofa. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Luke winced. “They used the photo again.”

“Of course they fucking did!” Tom punched a nearby pillow. “I look like a twat. Luke, I need this to stop.”

Luke sighed. “Until something comes along that is better than this, expect it to hang around for a while. Unless you are planning on getting married in the next two days.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “Not bloody likely.” He sighed again. “Thanks for everything Luke.”

“It’s my job, mate. But you’re welcome.”

After Tom hung up, he stared first at the phone in his hand and then at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he got here, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to get out. Tom decided instead to wallow in self-pity and eat a ridiculously expensive room service steak.

-

Weekends were always busy when there were special events over at the MGM arena. This weekend was no exception. And while it may not be good for Molly’s back, her bank account greeted every penny with a smile. Vegas may be a cheap place to live, but it still costs money. And her college did not accept IOUs for student loans. She shoved more tips into the jar behind the bar and helped the next person.

“What’ll be?”

“Whatever you have that is strong and on tap.” Tom’s smooth voice cut over the din of slot machines and video poker machines.

“Coming right up.” Molly poured him a beer, and he signed the receipt with his room number before sliding to the end of the bar.

Three hours later, Tom still sat at the end of the bar, nursing the same beer. Most of the crowd dissipated at this point. Celebrities needed their beauty sleep. Or at least most of them.

“Would you like to switch that one out for a cold one?” She leaned over, smiling. “On the house.”

“Sorry.” Tom blinked and glanced around, looking for a clock Molly imagined.

“No clocks.” she commented. “Or windows.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“The whole point of casinos is to keep people inside. Clocks and windows help people realize how much time has passed.” Molly replaced his beer. “The whole place is set up like a maze.”

Tom took a long draw of the fresh beer. “You seem to know an awful lot about casinos for a bartender.”

“You seem awfully forward for a movie star.” she snapped back. Tom’s eyes met yours. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who works at Regal Cinema, they let me in for free.”

“I’m having a bad day.” Tom muttered back. “You still didn’t answer the question.” He took another long draw, leaving the glass half empty.

“Oh, so we are adding pushy to your resume. I thought Brits were supposed to be charming. If you must know, I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Tourism from Arizona State.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but Molly cut him off.

“Funny thing about the tourism industry. You need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience without having a job. Classic catch-22. Which does not pay my bills. So I bartend until I get hired somewhere.”

Tom felt like a prize idiot moping about his problems. He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my earlier behavior. I have been in a poor mood for the last several weeks and it has made me a terrible companion and customer.”

Molly smiled at him. The first truly friendly face in a while. “It’s fine. And you are entitled to a bad day.” She filled up his glass. “Once or twice. Share your troubles with me. Unless it is about which supermodel you should date next, then I don’t want to hear it.” she joked. Tom’s face fell. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tom held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. I take it you don’t read the magazines.”

“As a matter of course, no I don’t.” Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Oh…”

Tom twisted his face into an exaggerated expression. “‘Oh’ is right. Usually followed by the words ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’.”

“And is she…”

Tom drained the glass. “Yep. Nominated for two awards.”

“Yikes! Well, if there is anything I can do, I am here all weekend.”

Tom stood up and left several twenty-dollar bills. “I might take you up on that. Thank you again for the conversation… I didn’t catch your name.”

“Molly Bishop”. she said, clearing his glass.

Tom offered his hand, and she shook it. “Tom.”

“I know.” she leaned in, her dark brown hair falling to the sides of her face. “Remember, you’re a movie star.”

Tom laughed. A real belly laugh. So loud that it jolted the old man at the other end of the bar awake. “I needed that. Thank you again. Have a good evening, day, morning.”

“It’s evening. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.”

Tom headed back towards the bank of elevators. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Molly wipe down where he had been sitting, shove the twenties into a tip jar, while tucking her hair behind her ears and help an obviously drunk couple. Tom made a mental note to find her again before he flew back and leave an even bigger tip.

-

Tom woke up the next morning and headed down to the gym to run on the treadmill. He would have preferred running outside but wanted to avoid people. After running five miles, he switched the machine off, wiped it and him down and headed upstairs to shower and change for the day. Tom wandered back downstairs in search of Molly, but the bartender on duty, a guy named Seth, mentioned she wouldn’t be back until the evening. Tom thanked him and headed back upstairs.

He was restless until it was time to get ready. After dressing, he took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Illaria who confirmed he did it right. Now came the waiting game. Tom wanted to time it to avoid having to see her at all. Finally deciding he had wanted long enough, Tom called for the car and headed downstairs. What Tom forgot to account for was his incredible bad luck.

He arrived right after her and was forced to walk the red carpet, watching her out of the corner of his eye, with her arm linked around whatever man, boy, prey she ensnared for the evening. Tom plastered a killer smile on his face and continued to repeat the mantra in his head “Living well is the best revenge” when all he wanted to do is either trip her or return to his hotel room and eat an inordinate amount of chocolate cake.

The rest of the awards show blurred together into moments of white hot rage masked by a cool exterior and numbness. Thank god for the teleprompter or else Tom wondered if he would have made it through his presentation. But he did and thought he made it through the entire event without running into her and then…

“Tom!” her voice called out.

Tom froze and stiffened. What a difference a few weeks can make.

“Darling!” He spun on his heel to face her, smile firmly in place. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” he lied through his teeth.

“You too. I thought I might miss you. I just wanted to say—”

Tom waved her off. “Water under the bridge.” Another lie. Perhaps he missed his calling as a barrister or even a publicist. “Your date seems nice.”

She smiled. That smile that once melted his heart. “Thanks. He is. Where’s your—”

“Back at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head back. Big plans for the night.”

She blinked, and stutter stepped back. “Oh. Right.” She composed herself. “Well, it was nice to see you again. I hope we can be friends.” She held her arms open.

Fucking friends! Tom howled inside his mind. What was she playing at? More fodder for her songs? Tom seethed on the inside. He stepped forward to awkwardly hug her, praying there was no one around to snap a photo. Knowing her, though, she probably had someone in the balcony with a zoom lens.

“Of course, love.” He squeezed her a little too tight until she let loose a small yelp of pain. Tom allowed a genuine smile to come across his face. “I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the after party.” He walked away before she could continue on the conversation.

He waited until he was well out of earshot. “Bitch.”

-

The crowd started waning around 9:30 as the awards show let out. Molly figured most of the attendees would hit the after parties and things would pick up around 1 or 2 a.m. Until then, it would just be the regulars. She turned around to arrange the glasses she just cleaned when a now familiar voice rang out.

“Marry me.” Tom asked, his tie loosened.

“I don’t know you.” Molly teased back. “Now what will you have?”

“You as my wife.” Tom repeated, his palm flattened against the bar.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you drunk?”

Tom shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Hear me out.”

She glanced around, seeing no plausible escape. “I’m listening. But if another customer comes up, I’m walking away.”

“I need something to move the paparazzi off this current news cycle with me.”

Molly smirked. “You ran into the ex. Did she have a new boy toy on her arm?”

“Yes, but that is beside the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Tom slammed his hand against the bar, rattling the container of nuts nearby. “Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Molly crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I need something to move the press off this story. You need money. We are the solution to each other’s problems.”

“You may be gorgeous, but if you think I am sleeping with you for money…”

“I never said sex. I said marriage. The last I checked, they could be mutually exclusive.” Tom’s expression softened. “Listen, you are clearly unhappy here. I am unhappy too. If us being together could alleviate a bit of that unhappiness, why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity? We get married. Get the paparazzi off my back. I would pay off your student loans and credit cards. And then after a year of living together, we quietly divorce. No sex. Just a business relationship.”

Molly chewed over what Tom said, while chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong, she was unhappy. Vegas was supposed to be a brand new start, but it was more of the same. Dead end job and no career prospects on the horizon.”

“Did you say live together?”

“In London, yes. I have plenty of room. Your own space. You have a passport.”

“Yes.”

Tom’s face broke out in a wide grin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The blood pounded in his ears and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Will you marry me, Molly Bishop?”

“Yes.” she smiled back.

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get going, because the licensing bureau closes at midnight.”

Molly headed over to the manager, Nick.

“I quit.” she shoved her apron at him.

“What? You can’t quit, Molly. The big rush is coming.”

“You heard the lady.” Tom called. “She quits.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé. Come on, darling.” Tom held out his hand. She lifted up the bar at the entrance and took his hand.

-

The two of you were full of nervous energy the entire cab ride to the licensing bureau, fitting right in with the other couples waiting to get a license. While you waited in line, Tom made some calls to several chapels until he found one open and able to squeeze the two of you in.

“Now all we need is to get you a dress and some rings.”

“Oh!” Molly dug through her purse. “My friend’s kid gave these to me.” She pulled out two plastic rings. “I think these will do in a pinch.”

Tom closed his hand over hers. “I’ll buy us proper rings tomorrow. Now a dress.”

“There’s a mall on the way. I can grab something on the way.” Tom kissed Molly’s forehead.

“You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Within an hour, Molly was wearing a simple white slip dress, Tom still in his suit from the awards show, although he did straighten up the tie. She smiled like a fool, holding onto a fake bouquet and Tom’s wedding ring, complete with a plastic spider in her hand.

Tom slipped on the plastic gem ring when the minister told him to, and she did the same with the spider ring. Tom giggled and so did Molly .

“I now pronounce husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His lips were warm and soft. It was… nice. Under other circumstances, she imagined Tom would be an excellent kisser.

Tom gazed down at her. “Hello, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston.”

[shirophantomvox]

“Exhausted” Hisoka x Female Reader

Hello anon! Thank you for this request! If you all did not know, I am celebrating my 100 follower goal! Click this link to view the prompts and rules. If you are interested, send me an ask and please note that this event will end on July 15th. Again, thank you for the feedback and awesome support. Let’s get into the story! I know I said I was going to start on Monday, but since I had some free time, I began today! FYI, the tumblr app needs to be updated. I cannot stand it that you cannot title your posts on the mobile app. Please fix this immediately, Tumblr.

Word Count: 1385

♠ ♣ ♠ ♣

“I wonder if I can make it to the doorstep without falling out…”

Waves of invisible heat floated in front and above your windshield as the radiation from the sun made it worse. To your luck, the air condition on your car had gone out and because of the horrific car insurance rates in Yorknew, it was almost impossible to get it fixed. The heat worked but the A/C did not. How stupid, right? The world has been engineered that to make a stable living you have to work for nearly 40-50 years and then retire but with how the country is right now, you may not see retirement. All of these intrusive thoughts caused your brows to press angrily against your eyes as the heat made you sweat more and more. Droplets of water dripped from your forehead while your underarms smelt like the insides of a man’s underwear. Life was beginning to drag. Mr. (m/n), your manager, had assigned you to interview several people in and outside of your neighborhood about switching to your car company and applying for discounted insurance. That’s odd. Why can’t you, the worker, have discounted insurance for the company you work for?

Working for 48 hours non-stop almost drove you insane. As you approached a familiar street, your eyelids began to close.

“Maybe if I close my eyes for a second, I will be able to make it inside…”

For a brief second, the thought of your incredible, quirky husband popped into your mind. His “Kiss the Cook” apron was tied firmly against his bare waist. Cooking without a shirt on was quite idiotic but he felt as if it freed him from being restricted. One time he surprised you on a night with just the apron on, exposing his bare behind. His red wavy hair would fall behind his ear and down the back of his neck. His bangs were slightly curled in front of his face. Without making a single sound, he’d scoop you into his arms, make growling noises, and playfully throw you in the bed. A slight blush was painted on his freckled cheeks. This was his idea of being passionate, as every man has their own definition of the word. The sound of his deep, soothing voice made you smile indescribably.

“Ah, y/n! How was work, my dear-♠?”

There have been several instances where you have been exhausted but burdening your husband was something you didn’t want to partake in but still he wouldn’t mind if you had to vent for an hour or two. A loud blaring horn tore you from your 1 second day dream. A turning car was almost hit as you reached the intersection.

“Watch it, asshole!”

Well, now it's time to speed home.

It felt like the gray cloud over your head would not ever disappear until you pulled into your driveway. The grass had been freshly cut, flowers were being watered by the sprinkler, and the arch way of the front door had been painted. The sight of your wonderful lawn placed a large smile on your face. Taking a break from such a terrible week from work was needed and to see that you didn’t have to do any work around the house made you feel better. Before you could touch the front of the door, it flew open and you fell. Thank God you were caught by a pair of long, freckled arms because if you hadn’t, the tiles would have left many nasty marks on your face.

Your face was smothered in between his pecs. This was a normal occurrence. Since no one was in the house, he’d often walk around in his boxers cleaning, planting, or whatever he felt like doing. He placed his rather large hands under your arms and lifted you straight up so you could look him in the eye. His left thumb gently gripped your chin, his index finger underneath it.

“Welcome home, kitten. You seem to be tired-♠.”

Your eyelids began to flutter again as sleep was the only thing on your mind. Breaking away from his grasp, you placed your laptop bag on the couch and proceeded to the kitchen. Hisoka was silent for a second, puzzled as to why you did not give him a kiss. That was very unusual for you. He came running behind you like a lost puppy with his hands out ready to grab your shoulder.

“Is something the matter, y/n-♠?”

Slowly turning around, you sigh and fake a smile. Your eyes were still closed and the gray cloud seemed to reappear. Hisoka began to walk forward and sat down on your shared bed. Hiding your true feelings is a luxury you could not afford. Prepared or not, it was time Hisoka knew how you truly felt. At times he could be as stubborn as a mule but there were times where he was more endearing and understanding. Hisoka, again, placed his left thumb on your chin, a few inches from your lips, and looked deep into your weary eyes.

“Honestly, I am very tired. I’m exhausted. I think I am going to sleep for the rest of the day if you don’t mind.”

Hisoka smiled somberly. He had planned on going to the city's carnival with you but he’d have to miss out this time around. He didn’t want to go alone because he did not want to deal with fangirls and boys screaming and worshipping his godly figure. Although it fed his ego, he rather not deal with people who couldn’t take a hint.

The sweat from your face ruined your makeup. The mascara began to drip, you could see patches of your natural skin tone look much different than your foundation, and your lipstick was a little misplaced. Noticing Hisoka’s sad smile, you frowned.

“You see? I’ve made him sad,” you thought.

“Hisoka, I’m sorry for upsetting you with my troubles.”

Hisoka scoffed at your reaching assumption. He was a man that went through much worse pain than a little complaint nonetheless from the woman he loved.

“I’m not upset. Not in the slightest.-♠”

“Well, why do you look so disappointed?”

Hisoka smiled his usual smile while turning his head slightly to the left. He chuckled at your obliviousness. He took his right hand and placed it behind your neck. His piercing golden eyes nearly tore a hole in your soul. With the combination of his beautiful eyes, extended pecs, shaped torso, and smooth voice, you were destined to melt into your bed finally being able to sleep next to this hunk of a man. His long eyelashes batted a few times as he began to answer your question.

“How could you walk in here without giving me some sugar-♠?” His voice sent chills down your spine, causing you to voice a shiver involuntarily.

Your eyelids shot open and nearly squirmed when your eyes met his. For some reason, you stumbled to answer but managed to eventually mutter out a response.

“I-I’m sorry. I am so tired and I almost got into a c—-“

Hisoka’s lips crashed against yours. His moist lips positioned themselves in a way that if you kept yours straight, it would fit in perfectly. His right hand was placed on your lower cheek and jaw lifting your head just a tad more. His nose brushed against yours, causing you to smile just a little. Then again, Hisoka was so concerned about kissing you that he didn’t bother with asking what made you so tired and unhappy. He always thought physical contact would take your mind off of what was bothering you and it did temporarily but not entirely. Venting is what you needed and then maybe a kissing session would end the night off better. Breaking away, he looked into your eyes one more time before standing you up and proceeding to the kitchen.

“Now I have a question for you. What has been bothering you? I have all the time in the world-♠.”

-Fin

[rivalsforlife]

AA7 Speculation Post: One Year Later

here we go again.

A year and a day ago, I made a speculation post about if/when we’d ever be seeing AA7. Obviously, my claim that AA7 would be announced in September 2020 did not turn out to be true, but later that year we did get a leaked calendar containing information on the new ports for Chronicles, and also plans for a new aa7, which I summarized in this post.

Now that we have Chronicles we can verify that the leaks contained legitimate information (as if a statement from Capcom saying they were hacked wasn’t legitimate enough). So that leaves us with one key question: is AA7 still happening? If so, when can we expect it? As well, what other information from the leaked calendar can we consider, especially with early sales data on Chronicles? In addition, what are the implications of this new survey on Chronicles from Capcom?

All of that will be discussed under the cut so that this doesn’t take up too much space.

Revisiting The Calendar

Once again, here is a rough translation of the calendar that was present in the leaks:

As a note, in this post, I’ll be referring to our new games as “Chronicles” to prevent this from being blocked by people avoiding spoilers.

So: this original calendar, generated before the pandemic, had Chronicles releasing in Q1 of FY2021 - and it’s also important to note that in Japan, each fiscal year starts in April 1st, so FY2021 is actually April-June 2021. This shows that Chronicles was pushed back about a quarter from their expected release date. However, Chronicles was a port of already existing games, therefore somewhat less work was needed on them - upscaling models and textures, adding in some new features like autoplay and story mode, and of course, the English translation and voicework were needed, which is still a lot of course, but less compared to development on an entirely new game. In addition to that, the pandemic hit AA7 in its early development stage, assuming this schedule was still being followed by the time the pandemic hit. That could cause more delays than expected.

So the original plan was for AA7 to be released in Q3 of 2021, which corresponds to October-December, aligning with the 20th anniversary of the series in October. While it’s a desirable goal, it’s quite likely the pandemic pushed it back at least a quarter, if not more, if not cancelled it entirely. ... haha.

We’ll only know the fate of AA7 for certain when it’s announced. Which it is possible it may never be. However, I have two theories for, if AA7 is getting an announcement, when it will be:

1) Sometime during September 2021, either in the leadup to or during Tokyo Game Show this year. These are for the same reasons as I outlined in my initial speculation post. It’s a popular time for Ace Attorney game announcements, after all. TGS, according to what I can find, will be held online this year from September 30th to October 3rd. If Capcom announces AA7 earlier in September through Famitsu, like they did with AA6 for example, then we can expect to get some information during TGS... 

2) Sometime during a 20th Anniversary Event, possibly in October 2021. I’m assuming AA is planning something for the 20th anniversary - Chronicles wasn’t really marketed as a 20th anniversary release, for instance. If they can’t release a new game for the 20th anniversary (which at this rate, seems unlikely, as we’re about two months out from that with no word about it) then an announcement would be just as good at generating hype for it.

Naturally, if we reach this time next year with absolutely no news on AA7, it’s probably safe to say it’s been cancelled or at least delayed so severely that anything we currently know about it isn’t worth much.

There’s one more point of interest on the calendar: reconsidering the porting of 456. I feel that this depends heavily on how well the Chronicles ports are doing; if it’s not financially viable to keep porting games, then why bother? So, let’s take a look at that.

The Success of Chronicles

As I write this, it’s about two and a half weeks since the release of Chronicles worldwide. So... how did the games do? It’s a bit hard to tell, especially as I am not a game marketer and don’t know the expectations for Chronicles. What is obvious is that, if Chronicles does much better than expected, porting 456 and possibly even the investigations games seems likely. (If Chronicles, indeed, does especially well in the West, than a porting of the investigations games and localization of investigations 2 after ten years could very well be possible.) If Chronicles does absolutely terribly, it damages the chances of porting, and possibly of continuing the series. If it does terribly especially in the West, where the games are essentially new, it could damage the chances of any new games being localized at all.

So, a lot is riding on this, and I don’t know enough to tell how well it did. Here’s what I have found, however:

Nintendo Enthusiast reports on Famitsu sales of Switch games, and overall thinks it’s not doing so great. Chronicles ranks third on the list of Switch sales in its first week, with 14,460 units sold, over 4000 less than NEO: The World Ends With You, which was released on July 27th. Keep in mind that Chronicles was released in Japan on July 29th, which is two days later, and that these are only Japanese sales (where they’ve had Chronicles for years on both mobile and 3DS) and only Switch sales, where NEO:TWEWY is currently only available on Switch and PS4 (Chronicles has the additional platform of Steam, where there could be many more sales). In the next week, Chronicles ranked 22 overall, with NEO:TWEWY at 23, though of course they’re still a little less than 4000 units behind NEO:TWEWY overall. Slightly closing the gap, I guess.  

How about overseas data, then? ... It’s hard to tell. I can find this report from gamespot which discusses the top 20 games sold in the US in July, and Chronicles is not on the list, while NEO:TWEWY is at 16. However, they don’t give any number for the units sold, and it seems that they aren’t considering digital sales for a lot of them, so it’s hard to tell how much of a hit that is.

However, let’s go back to Japanese sales for a bit, and look at the 2019 Trilogy re-release for a comparison against Chronicles. Allegedly, combined Switch and PS4 sales in the first week of the trilogy’s release only amounted to about 8000 units, a little more than half that of Chronicles’ Switch sales. It’s also important to note that the 2019 trilogy ended up being the only ace attorney game to sell over a million copies. Ace Attorney is not a big series; I’m sure Capcom takes this into account when considering sales data, especially for ports. If Chronicles does end up doing better than the trilogy overall, it’s definitely looking good for ports and especially so for Chronicles.

However, there’s more to this than just sales data.

The Survey

Capcom now has a user survey for Chronicles, which you can answer even if you’re partway through the first game. I believe it’s only open until September 30 2021, so if you think you can finish the game before then, I’d recommend filling it out once you’re done so that you can give the best feedback.

It asks you a bunch of questions like what platform you bought it on, why you bought it, your expectations, and all sorts of detailed questions on the various mechanics, difficulty and enjoyment of the trials and investigations, satisfaction of visuals, plot, characters, music, and even free response sections for what you liked and disliked about the game. It’s a very detailed survey that’s pretty long but I think is worth filling out. At the end they ask you to fill out some demographic questions (such as age, gender (male, female, other), country, what kind of things you like to spend money on, and what kind of games you like, what platforms you have to play games on). But what’s possibly the most interesting question is this:

“If a new [Chronicles] game is released in the future, do you think you would buy it?”

This means that, depending on the answers to the survey, they could very well decide to work on a third game to Chronicles.

This has huge implications for the future of the series. I’ll probably make a separate post on plot-related stuff later, but for now... let’s talk about logistics.

In my initial AA7 speculation post I said I highly doubted that they would ever make another Chronicles game. I also said that they probably never would be localized, so, guess who’s a clown now. 

Right now the AA series is in a bit of a dry period, with no new games having been released in the last four years. As well, with Yamazaki (the director of the investigations games and AA5/6) having left Capcom, the next director of the mainline games is completely unknown. As described in this video, the main reason Chronicles ever came about was because Capcom went ahead with mainline AA5 before Takumi could come back from the Layton crossover. Now, since 2017, we don’t really know what Takumi is working on. It’s possible he’s gone back to mainline to work on AA7 (though of course, there is absolutely no evidence suggesting that he has, so definitely don’t take that as any sort of confirmation).

However, if we do get a Chronicles 3, it’s quite likely Takumi would return to work on that, as he directed the previous two games. In addition, if Chronicles ends up being such a success to completely eclipse mainline (from what I’ve heard, though I have no serious proof, Resolve is considered as highly rated as T&T by many Japanese fans) then the series could permanently go down the road of writing more Chronicles games, leaving mainline stagnant (which, let’s be real, it’s already stagnating). The success of that is uncertain considering how neatly our current Chronicles duology wraps up, but... we’ll have to see how things unfold in the future.

For now, I highly recommend filling out the survey to give your input to the series’ future directions. Maybe mention that you want localized investigations 2 somewhere in the free response section because uhh I forgot to do it in mine. do that for me.

TL;DR

Main takeaways from this post are:

- I personally expect an AA7 announcement either during TGS or a 20th anniversary event

- If Chronicles does extremely well, then 456 ports are likely to happen, and I personally speculate investigations ports (along with localized investigations 2) will as well.

- Fill out this Chronicles survey before September 30th to give your input on the games and possibly the future direction of the series. I recommend completing the games before you do, but if you think you won’t before September 30th, you can fill it out at any time.

- We Very Well May Get Another Chronicles Game. Who saw that coming. Not me.

Thanks if you read through all of this, let’s hope September/October doesn’t leave me looking like a fool again.