#like just this year I wanted to be a vet tech and got all ready to sign up for college for it

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

Fushiguro Megumi is responsible.

He always has been, from a younger age than he ought to have needed to be. It's engrained in him now, as much a part of him as his own flesh and bone—if something falls within his scope of responsibility, he's always diligent about seeing it through.

Here's the thing about Megumi, though, the thing he doesn't even really know about himself: he's a perfectionist. Because of this, he doesn't like to be responsible for things—at least not things that he can't guarantee will be a success. Things that he knows he can execute perfectly.

But the road to hell is always paved with good intentions. Convictions, no matter how strongly-held, can accidentally falter.

Megumi has never wanted to be a father.

And maybe this all ties back to his unconscious need to do things perfectly. The pathological insistence he feels to do things all by himself, and do them right. He relies on his experience to achieve these things, and looking back on what little experience he has with fathers, he knows it's not enough—not sufficient—to properly prepare him for a similar undertaking.

And he's fine with that.

He's got enough on his hands anyway, first as a student putting himself through veterinary school, and then with the clinic he works at. The elderly vet he studied under, and who owned the clinic, retired just before Megumi turned 30, and having worked together for almost a decade—first as a part timer, then a tech, then an assistant, and finally a partner—the old man gave Megumi the option of buying the business and taking it on.

Always thought of ya like a son, the old man had said to him one evening after closing, having dragged Megumi to the izakaya down the road to get a drink. Megumi doesn't even really like drinking very much, especially when he was due back at the clinic at dawn, but he indulged the old man who ended up ruddy cheeked and tipsy about as quickly as Megumi expected, given past experience. The conversation had taken him by surprise when his mentor had announced his retirement. 'S only right I pass it on to you, if ya want it.

The offer made something uncomfortable squirm in Megumi's gut. His fear of change rearing its ugly head. His doubt that he was ready to take on such a huge responsibility. The uncomfortably foreignness of being called someone's son.

Just think about it, the old man slurred, immediately picking up on Megumi's hesitation. Yer still a young fella, Megumi, but ya won't be ferever. Gotta start thinkin' about yer future 'ventually. Settlin' down, findin' yourself a pretty girl, babies.

Ah, the future. Yet another thing Megumi hates, in all its unknowable infamy.

Megumi eventually helped the elderly vet into a taxi to get home, and then went back inside the izakaya to drown his sorrows—early shift be damned. His head was a mess, full of a terrible spiral of thoughts about his future that now looked so uncertain, and while the beer he was drinking certainly didn't help him make sense of them, he hoped, however briefly, it might help him to forget.

When Megumi woke the next morning to the alarm blaring from his cellphone, he had a splitting headache thanks to the beer and he was sleeping in the narrow entryway to his apartment with all his clothes (and his shoes) still on. But even in spite of all of that, and the smell of soap clinging to him that he didn't recognize, he felt lighter, somehow—surer about things.

The old man signed the business over to him a month later.

It's been four years since then, and while it hasn't been easy, Megumi's been taking responsibility just like he always has. He does what needs to be done to keep the lights on. He treats his staff well. He takes care of any animals that come through the clinic's door—no matter how dire, no matter how far gone, no matter how they get there.

Yuuji in particular takes advantage of this good nature—showing up frequently, sometimes even after all the other staff has gone home, with some woeful little creature he'd encountered. Sometimes it's a stray cat he'd been called at the fire station to help out of a tree, sometimes it's a dog that he'd found in the road on his drive home from work, or a little bird on the sidewalk. And he gives Megumi the same desperate look every time, the same beseeching eyes, and Megumi curses the fact that the two of them are the same when it comes to this particular responsibility—before letting him inside to examine the new patient.

It's pouring down rain one night, and Megumi has just sent everyone home for the day with a word of thanks for their hard work, when he thinks this very situation is about to repeat itself when he hears a frantic thump! thump! thump! against the glass of the clinic door. Megumi, in his office, pinches the bridge of his nose. He'd even turned the lights out in the lobby so that he could pretend he wasn't there. He knew Yuuji was on his way home from work based on the animated sticker he'd just sent him via text, before offering to pick up some beer and come over, but he hadn't replied—and certainly hadn't expected him to make it to the clinic so quickly.

Megumi sighs, pushing himself up from his desk and padding out in his slippers to the front of the clinic. It's dark out, and hard to see with no lights on in the lobby, but there's a little figure standing outside the rain-covered glass of the door. They appear to be trembling. Megumi pauses, confused, before fiddling with the lock and reaching over to flip on the light beside the door.

What he sees when the door slides open makes him freeze.

Before him is a little boy, no more than four or five, soaked through with rain and shivering in the cold. He has teary green eyes, black hair that's weighed down by the rain, and round, rosy cheeks. Megumi feels sick when he looks at him.

A mirror image of himself.

The man is so frightened that he doesn't even say anything, just stares in horror at the little boy trembling outside the door. Megumi's never heard of a ghost story like this, those were always Yuuji's thing, but that must be what this is. Some kind of spectral being who's shown up to—

A little hand reaches out and tugs on his pant leg.

"Please help me," the little boy says, his voice weak and thick with tears. "Mr. Vet, I need your help."

Megumi watches with wide eyes as the little boy opens his raincoat, revealing a small mass of fur tucked against his chest. A rabbit, Megumi surmises quickly, once he sees the ear; a bunny in fact, when taking into consideration its size. Megumi can't even tell if it's alive because the animal is so terribly still where it's cradled to the boys heart.

He feels another insistent tug at his pant leg, the boy's hand still firmly clutching it. He looks at the child, who seems more determined now, his tears still present but his gaze a little more resolute.

"So, can you help me?"

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Who's your fave oc at the moment?? Tell me about them!

Hoo boy, here we go. Get ready for BACKSTORY!

The short answer is a pair of girls named CJ and Ren otherwise known as Cleric and Watchdog who are college students in a universe with superheroes and started freelancing for those superheroes as a way to make some extra cash. Have a picture of both their regular identities and their alter egos. Designs are still being workshopped. Also, I've been experimenting with different pens on my drawing app, so the artstyle'a a bit all over the place. I'm also bad at character proportions, but their heights are closest to correct in the alter ego picture.

The long answer? Is long. So I'll put it below a cut. :)

So, I have OCs for specific fandoms, but my current favorite OCs aren't actually attached to anything. They just live in a generic superhero verse that could honestly be anything from DC to Powerpuff girls. It wouldn't change much, but I do have some light worldbuilding around the city they live in.

Chorustown is your pretty par for the course comic book city with superheroes and supervillains and a new upstart team of anti-heroes that are basically violent robin hood (steal from the rich, give to the poor). Suffice it to say that whenever all these factions fight each other, it breaks shit, so renter's insurance ain't cheap. Also, suffice it to say that the heroes involved are constantly getting injured, as well as needing information on the ever-shifting threats.

Enter our protagonists: Serenity "Ren" Summers and Cory "CJ" Jack are a pair of college students with a lot of skills and not a lot of money, who are willing to do some questionable shit for income! Also, they're childhood besties turned girlfriends.

During their sophomore year, CJ and Ren realized that while nobody in the civilian sphere would be willing to hire undergrads and actually PAY them, superheroes must have much more limited options, what with the need to keep their identities secret and not have people ask questions. This is also a 'verse where superheroes aren't on great terms with regular law enforcement, so getting caught doing something illegal, even if it helps a lot of people, is a very real threat. It leaves superheroes without a whole lot of options when they need an expert for something in their superhero work. And CJ and Ren both happen to be notable experts.

Ren is an engineering major with a split focus in software and mechanical engineering, as well as some dabbling into social engineering. She's got tech chops and computer knowledge out the wazoo. She's also lived in Chorustown her whole life and knows the city like the back of her hand. Throw in the fact that she's an avid artist who spent (and still does spend) a lot of time sneaking around to make graffiti murals, and you have someone who is basically a surveillance GOD. She can hack anything she wants, follow people around without them ever noticing, and she's capable of designing tech like trackers and bugs (and posseses the skill to plant those). Ren is also a habitually nosy person who has always kept track of significant going ons, for superheroes and villains, major political players, celebrities, and her personal life. She is so uniquely qualified to gather information on people that it isn't even funny. And it goes both ways. She can help someone hide from surveillance just as easily as she can snoop out a hider because she knows exactly where nobody will look.

CJ is a very, very talented med student. She's been into medicine and biology her whole life, with a particular interest in the physiological differences between superheroes and regular people. This includes aliens, animal based powers, meta-humans, mutants---you name it, and she's probably hyperfixated on its biology for at least a month and retained that information. This means she's also dabbled in a lot of other weird disciplines like vet med and astrobiology (which would absolutely be a scientific discipline in a universe where aliens invade on a monthly basis). Add in her medical skills and her technologically inclined girlfriend, and she's got the skills and the tools to treat anything from a bloody nose to a broken appendage to a physiologically based power defect to a species specific disease for just about anybody.

The two of them decided that if they can't get stable income like normal people, they'll get it from superheroes, who will be forced to come to them because there are no other options! But obviously, they can't just publicly be helping out superheroes. That puts soooo many targets on their backs. They'd have villains, law enforcement, and even other superheroes after them (CJ and Ren don't really make a distinction between heroes and anti-heroes; as long as you're helping people, they're chill with you. That would make the more self-righteous folks of both categories pretty pissed to know that their confidants were helping people on the other side of the debate). So they'll need alter egos, and they'll need to be secretive about their base of operations.

And thus, Watchdog and Cleric were born! But the thing is, these two are REALLY paranoid about getting caught because they don't have supet powers to protect themselves from villains or even social power to protect themselves from the legal system. Remember, these two are broke undergrads who lowkey stole all their equipment from their university (it's technically all available for student use, but not in the quantities or for the purposes they use it for).

So they have a lot of fun measures in place. First off, you probably noticed, but their costumes cover their whole bodies and faces and are loose enough on their frames that you can't really tell anything about their body types beyond their height. Secondly, they're both utilizing voice filters that both pitch their voices low enough to sound like dudes and make them sound somewhat robotic so their tone doesn't come through. The settings on the filter can be adjusted as needed (CJ can turn off the tone modulator if she needs to sound soothing, or Ren can change the pitch if she needs to sound a specific age or gender as a distraction). So nobody knows what they look like or what they sound like, and most people assume they're men. Thirdly, Ren has designed some gadgets that disable trackers or bugs planted on their person. Nobody can follow them either.

Their biggest security measure, though, was how they revealed themselves to the super community. Instead of some big announcement, they just stalked the local Chorustown superheroes until opportunity arose. For Ren, it even functioned as advertising her skills since she's basically selling her stalking capability.

In the first fight that a hero got badly injured, CJ basically popped out of the woodwork in her Cleric getup, dragged them into a safe and hidden spot, delivered immediate and effective field first aid, and left the coordinates of an abandoned apartment complex that they've turned into her clinic, as well as a short letter offering her services.

Ren literally listened in on the resident supers conversations until they expressed frustration at not having a particular piece of information, at which point she helpfully left them an anonymous tip as well as a burner phone number, a ghost email account, and some coords if they ever needed info again. Both instances were basically a free trial, since their letters of introduction also specified that payment in some form would be required for later assistance.

Also, because Ren is a damn good stalker and because CJ will have personally treated many heroes wounds and logged their identifying physical and medical traits, it doesn't take them long before they put together, like, everybody's secret identities. Heroes and villains. With a couple of exceptions on the villainous side, since they don't directly interact with them. But there's basically no hiding from them.

Most people also don't know they exist! Other heroes that the Chorustown protectors interact with do question where they're getting treated for injuries after really big fights, and villains know that SOMEONE keeps giving heroes information that foils their plans, but they don't really come to the conclusion that it's an independent party. They always make incorrect assumptions. Like "Oh, they must have a family member or non-combat teammate that fixes them up after fights!" or "Oh, clearly we have a mole who's being bribed or threatened," or "The Chorustown heroes have more powers than they're letting on." Outside heroes only really learn of these two when the Chorustown regulars talk about them, and only really believe it when Ren and CJ see fit to contact them for whatever reason. It's honestly hilarious.

Everybody who has been contacted by CJ and Ren knows where Watchdog's dropspots are and where Cleric's clinic is, but have no idea what they do otherwise. The clinic and the dropspots are nowhere near the university or where their apartment, so people have no reason to assume it's them. They have ghost emails and burner phones, but they're regularly replaced, and Ren is good at cybersecurity, so there's no tracking it that way.

Most people guess that they're associated in some way, since two freelance vigilantes appearing at similar times operating out of the same city with similar technology would be a bit weird otherwise, but it's also assumed to be strictly professional. Nobody would ever guess that they know each other in their civilian lives, much less that they're girlfriends.

People also realize Watchdog and Cleric know their secret identities (and probably other secret stuff, too) since they've been contacted as civilians, but they also aren't overly threatened by it. The two of them are clearly working for money, but they aren't selling any of the heroes' secrets and are honestly very trustworthy and confidential about it. There was paranoia for the first little bit, but it quickly just became a fact of life.

That's pretty much the whole backstory unless you want to know

Other interesting things about them that don't have a whole lot to do with their whole second job shtick!

Ren:

Ren loves art in all forms, but especially painting. She'll paint on anything she can get her hands on. Her notes, random walls and floors, parts of the school, and any of her possessions. The skirt pictured in her drawing is her own handiwork, and most of her other articles of clothing look similar. Most of their dishes have been custom painted with food safe paint. And as previously mentioned, she's a vandal who puts gorgeous murals and fun zany tags in places that they really shouldn't be.

She's rather anti-social. Ren is aggressively introverted and doesn't have a whole lot of patience for stupid people. She's got a pretty quick temper on her and can be very moody. She recognizes that all traits make her just as unpleasant for other people to be around her as it is for her to be around other people. So she mostly just avoids others. She has like 5 people in her social circle, and she's happy to mooch off CJ if she needs anybody else.

Ren has a lovely voice but has no technical knowledge of music. She just likes to sing.

Ren's a major bookworm, but she mostly reads on her phone. People think she's addicted to social media, but she's usually just reading a book. And she'll read literally anything. With enthusiasm. Sure she can argue classics with the best of them, but she reads so much that she also: can get deep into the mechanics of a 1980s space opera you've never heard of; happily engages in ship wars over the generic YA dystopia that's a disguise for a generic YA love triangle; keeps a running list of every perfectly mapped out hero's journey fantasy story she's read; has consumed an entire encyclopedia and REMEMBERS it; spent one memorable week reading nothing but foreign cookbooks; accidentally befriended her computer science professor over a shared love for tragic westerns; and has a categorized list of historical romances with metrics including historical accuracy, how smutty it is, plot outside the romance, time period, location, and social class of the characters, how healthy the romance is, and how compelling.

Her favorite snacks are plain baby carrots and straight honey. She enjoys traumatizing people at parties by drizzling honey straight into her mouth like whipped cream, and she eats so many carrots that multiple have questioned how she hasn't turned orange.

CJ:

CJ is into fashion, but not like trends or anything. She likes to look good while still having her stuff ethically sourced and affordable. She does a lot of thrift shopping and still manages to dress really good (or at least I think so). Her default and favorite style is punk-inspired bad bitch that, for lack of a better term, is a bit on the slutty side, but she does like to experiment. One of these days I'll probably draw lots of different civilian outfits for both of them.

CJ is the opposite of Ren in that she is a total social butterfly. Not only is she suuuuuper extroverted, she also isn't even a little shy, will strike up a conversation with anybody, and knows basically everyone. This also means she has friends from all walks of life, which gets really useful when Watchdog needs informants. The little old Mexican lady next door, the corner store butcher, the chronic smoker at the homeless shelter, the thrift shop owner they both pretend isn't selling drugs, the local town council member, the perpetually sleep deprived culinary arts student who likes to "experiment" in the school kitchens at 3 a.m., the league of legends nerds who always seem to be online, the manic party girls who keep inviting her to a night on the town---all of them get more information than people would expect, and CJ knows and is on good terms with all of them. And not for an ulterior motive, she just genuinely likes people.

CJ has extreme ADHD. She's lucky Ren has a scary good memory and would never let her forget her Adderall, otherwise she's be in trouble. As it stands, she still is rather hyperactive and has a. . .not short, but definitely jumpy attention span.

She's a plant mom. Their apartment has a ton of plants. She really likes ferns and shrubs, but they also have flowers, succulents, grasses, and literally everything else.

CJ plays the violin, but only in fiddle, bluegrass, and trad contexts, so she can barely read sheet music and learns almost everything by ear.

She hates wearing the color purple but has deliberately bought purple clothing solely for Ren to steal.

Both

Are self-proclaimed socialists who participate in a lot of fundraising, activism, and volunteer work.

Have another childhood best friend named Eli, who is a self-proclaimed anarchist and a business major at their rival university. They still get together all the time. He also knows everything about their double life. There's no secrets in this circle. They're all super close, but they have their favorite ways of hanging out. He and Ren bond by going on vandalism field trips where he puts up politically motivated rants, and she makes it look pretty. He and CJ bond by regularly forsaking civilization and going hiking or camping or just chilling in the woods. They all bond by drinking cheap wine mixed with Dr. Pepper while playing video games and doing their homework and drunkenly going on tirades about rich assholes.

He's also shipped them since middle school when he realized they liked each other, but he didn't want to meddle. He got increasingly frustrated by the mutual pining throughout their high school years and finally engineered a situation at their graduation party where they were locked in a closet together for an hour and warned them that if they didn't confess he was going to drug them and write it in permanent marker on their foreheads. They literally came out of the closet after sharing their first kiss and are willing to kill God for him in thanks.

They're both really messy, but in an organized chaos kind of way. Everything in their home does have a place, it's just not always the place that you'd expect. The place for dirty socks, for example, is "on the living room floor in a haphazard pile," and the place for tissue boxes is "three in every room in easily accessible places at all times."

Both of them can cook but prefer to just eat whatever unprepared food is lying around, and will try any combination if it means they don't have to cook. An average dinner in the Jack-Summers household is a bowl of uncooked pasta dipped in peanut butter like it's nacho cheese with a side of bananas.

They really really like cats. They are both allergic to cats.

They're not practicing any religion, but kind of both passively believe that there's probably a capital-G God and also that other lowercase-g gods exist.

[micaluvssoccer]

What zoos do for people Claudia pina story Chapter two

After getting to know micaella, i realize that she reminds me of my sister Alba. She's like a younger version of us and I realize how badly I want her to meet Alba and our mother Eli. I asked her if she would like to come over for dinner after work. She smiles widely and says yes, giving me the biggest and most loving hug I've ever had.

She starts getting ready for work excitedly talking about her first biggest passion which is animals while her second biggest passion is soccer. We talk more until she has to go to work and then Alba comes over to hang out with me and she sees me with Nala, Naniskia, and Luna. "I didn't know you had another dog and now a cat, they are adorable though" I see her petting them both and they both genuinely seem to like her.

"They are my neighbors pets, she just moved her yesterday for work, she is a zookeeper and vet tech for the zoo." Alba smiles widely and says " Well she sounds lovely, is she coming tonight for dinner." I nod and smile at her, " I really hope you and mom enjoy her company because I already feel like I'm her big sister.

"Awww I am sure we would love her too, I'm guessing she's a year younger than me". I nod at her when she asks about her age and then I tell her that she likes Claudia as well. She smirks " now she's stepping in my footsteps, are you going to help her with it." I nod my head and laugh softly. " the girls that she didn't meet yesterday will be here for dinner which includes Claudia.

 Micaella's pov:

As soon as i get to work, I put my bags down at my desk signing in to clock in for work and then i look for my boss so i can get started with work.Once I found him, we talked about what I would be doing here and how the game was. While walking to my work station which is for mammals, I get started on working and making sure all of the animal barracks are cleaned and that they also have water and food. Once that is done for each and every mammal, I walk to the hospital area and I meet the doctor and other techs.

After a couple hours of work, we go on break and eat my lunch with my coworkers and we talk about our lives. After i finish eating, i text alexia saying that work is going great and asking how my pets are doing and i see that she sent me pictures of them and i see that Alba is there with her and i smile widely.

After work, I head to my apartment to take a shower and wash my hair. Once I'm done, I dry off and get ready for dinner. Once I finish up, I put on my shoes and head out to Alexia's apartment. I open her door and walk in and i smile when i see her and my pets running to me so i hug them happily. 

 After our hug, I got introduced to her mom and her sister. We have a nice long conversation while her mom and her cooks while Alba and I watch. Afterwards I told them how work was and then I asked them about their days and Eli looked at me and held me protectively. " Yeah she's my daughter now Always will be" I blush and nod my head happily while we talk more.

I hear the doorbell and Alexia's teammates come inside seeing me embraced by the Putellas family. Some of the girls look confused while the others that I have met smile at me. We hear Lelia say "ok who is the hottie and why are you all hugging her so tight." Alexia smiles and says " This is my new sister Micaella, she moved from America to work at the zoo here and she came to our game yesterday".

The girls that I met join in on the hug and the others introduce themselves and I notice that Claudia is there. Claudia looks at me and introduces herself to me and I shake her hand but she brings me into a hug and I see the girls smirking at us and I blush hard.

[thecyanideyoudrank]

Anybody else have an existential/career crisis every two months even though you were sure about what you were doing? No? Just me?

[storiesforallfandoms]

talent that runs in the family ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2128

request?: yes!

“Being rooks sister and substitute him while he recovers and slowly start to fall in love with colson”

description: she steps in to replace her brother when he is seriously injured and ends up gaining feelings for his friend

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Thanks so much for doing this (Y/N),” Rook said over the phone. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “But does Colson know that I’m...y’know...not a seasoned vet?”

“You’ll do fine.”

I refrained from reminding him that he didn’t actually answer my question.

After Rook’s accident left him out of commission for some time, he came to me to ask if I’d fill in for him. I jumped at the opportunity. Rook had taught me how to drum when I was young and, much like my big brother, it became a passion of mine. How could I turn down working with one of the biggest artists of the year, even if it were just for a short while?

Well, my nerves were definitely telling me I should’ve said no as I walked into soundcheck that day.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll call you after the soundcheck.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.”

I said my goodbyes and hung up. I tried not to focus on how big the venue we were playing in was as I made my way to the otherwise empty stage. I thought I was the first person to arrive until I heard someone calling my name.

“(Y/N), up here!”

I looked up to see the guys sat in a booth in the balcony. Colson was all but leaning over the railing, waving for me to join them. I had no idea how to get up there on my own, but luckily a security guard showed me the way.

The guys were eating pizza and drinking from plastic cups as if they were the ones attending the concert and not performing in it.

“Pre-show ritual,” Colson told me. “Especially when we have someone new joining the band. Sit! Have a slice!”

“Shouldn’t we be practicing?” I asked, but still sat with them. I didn’t want to completely mess up my first day.

“We have hours to practice,” one of the other guys I remembered as Slim said. “And we don’t really need to. We do this every night. A soundcheck is basically just to make sure everything is working tech wise.”

I just nodded, not wanting to point out that I hadn’t been doing this every night. I hoped that I’d have some time to figure out the songs before the shows.

Colson nudged me, bringing my attention to him. “Don’t stress. You’ll do great.”

I smiled at him, wishing I’d believe him.

After our small feast of pizza and beer in plastic glasses, we finally got to our soundcheck. I was so nervous that I kept messing up during the first song. My hands were shaking and I kept hitting the wrong drum by accident. My face was burning with embarrassment as I buried it in my hands and groaned.

Colson walked up to me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can get this, I know I can.”

“I know you can, too,” he said. “Just take a breath, relax. We’ll try again when you’re ready. And remember, it’s just drumming. Rook says you’re great at it.”

I smiled at him and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured myself back in my bedroom from my childhood, playing my drums super loud until my parents had to call out for me to keep it down.

When we started practicing again, it went off without a hitch. We did most of the setlist all the way through and did quick takes on the last few songs before our time was up.

I was proud of myself as the soundcheck came to an end. I was still nervous about performing during the actual show, but I felt confident enough in myself not to make too many noticeable mistakes when we actually had an audience that night.

I was walking to my car when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see Colson running to catch up with me. Or rather he was taking long strides to catch up with me considering he was so tall.

“I told you you would do great!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “It’s like drumming runs in your blood or something.”

I chuckled. “That’s what mom and dad always said too, but neither one of them can keep a beat to save their lives and no one else in our immediate family plays either.”

“You and Rook are the start of a long line of drummers then I guess.”

I shrugged in response. We both stood awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. His arm was still around my shoulder and I didn’t want to pull away and make it seem like I didn’t enjoy the contact because I definitely was not complaining about it.

I guess Colson also realized that he was still touching me, though, because he pulled his arm away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you need a run to the hotel or anything?” he asked. “We have the tour bus.”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. I have my car, and besides I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet so I should probably go do that.”

“Oh, yeah you definitely should. Get some rest before the show, too. It’s a lot more physically demanding when it’s an actual show, even if you’re just sitting at a drum set the entire time. I’ll see you tonight then I guess.” He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back to add, “What were you planning on wearing tonight?”

I looked at him, confused. “Uh...this I guess.”

I was wearing a hoodie and a pair baggy jeans and my most comfortable pair of sneakers.

Colson raised an eyebrow at my outfit before looking back up at me. “I mean, it’s definitely comfy, but I would recommend something a little less...well, just less. It’s going to be hot as fuck on that stage, especially with all the lights on you and shit.”

I nodded, taking note of this as I got into my car and internally panicked a little because I didn’t know if I even had anything to wear.

~~~~~~

A few hours later, after checking into my hotel room and promptly wrecking it by throwing my clothes everywhere, I was heading back down to the lobby to meet up with the guys. We were going to the show together, which would’ve been my first tour bus ride. I couldn’t lie, I was super stoked for it.

I was the last one to the lobby. All the guys were stood around, loudly talking to one another. You’d think they were just a normal group of guys and not a group about to play a sold out show in a massive arena.

Colson spotted me first. I smiled at waved at him. His eyes widened and his jaw basically dropped, which prompted all the guys to turn. Their reactions immediately matched his as they looked me up and down.

“Rook would kill you guys if he could see you right now,” I teased.

“Damn (Y/N),” Colson dared to say first. “You look...you look hot as fuck.”

I had decided on a loose muscle shirt with a bralette underneath since the shirt showed a little more than what I was used to, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and kept on the comfortable sneakers I had been wearing earlier that day.

I giggled. “Thanks, but again, Rook would kill you for saying that. Also, it’s not anything super attractive.”

“You got a nice body,” Baze pointed out. “Anything showing it off even a little is hot.”

I could feel my face burning as I waved their comments away. “Okay, enough with this. We have a show to get to.”

We boarded the tour bus and started towards the arena. The guys were distracted amongst one another again, completely forgetting about me and my “hot outfit”. Besides Colson, who had come to sit next to me on the couch while the rest of the guys were already drinking whatever was in the mini fridge.

“Do you guys always get drunk before your shows?” I asked.

“Not always. Usually we get high,” Colson responded.

“Now that I can get behind. I’ll probably be less afraid if I’m high.”

Colson held out the joint in his hand to me. I took it and took a quick puff, the smoke immediately burning my throat and lungs as I tried to inhale it. Colson laughed as I started to cough.

“I still say you have nothing to worry about,” he told me. “You’re gonna do great tonight. You can’t even really see or hear the audience with all the lights and the inner ear pieces.”

“That’s even worse cause then I’ll just imagine how big the audience is.”

He put a hand on my leg, something I assume was just instinct for him to do to comfort someone, but the minute he made the contact I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. Colson quickly pulled his hand away and I wondered if he had felt that too.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” he said.

“You can if you want,” I assured him. “I wasn’t mad about it or anything.”

Colson looked at me and I realized how blue his eyes were. Rook had always made jokes about how Colson could seduce any woman with just his eyes because they were such baby blues, but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I was looking in them myself. Now I was lost, completely forgetting everyone around me as I felt myself moving closer towards him.

The bus jerked to a stop, causing Colson and I to nearly be thrown from our seats. The guys started off the bus first, running towards the entrance to the arena as I could hear the waiting fans screaming outside.

Colson stood and offered a hand to me. “It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~

After the first song went perfectly, I stopped feeling nervous. Colson was right, I couldn’t see the audience in front of me, but I could faintly hear their screams of excitement over my inner ear piece. It was weird to have it in and not only hear all of us playing, but also the crew talking backstage. It was almost distracting, but it became easy to tune them out.

During one of Colson’s talking points in the show, I reached for my water bottle to take a sip. Colson was hyping the audience up, which made me smile a little.

“Before we continue the show,” he said into his mic, “you guys may have noticed that we do not have our regular drummer tonight.”

I immediately knew what he was about to do and I wanted to hurtle my drumstick at him before he went there.

“As you’ve probably heard, Rook was in a bit of an accident and is off recovering for the time being,” he continued. “So, we decided to get some family to fill in for him for the time being. Everyone, I want to hear y’all make some noise for Rook’s little sister, (Y/N)!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Colson turned to me and waved for me to stand. I glared at him, which I hoped he could see, before standing and awkwardly smiling and waving at the audience.

“All the cool drum shit you guys have been hearing all night has been (Y/N),” Colson said as he started to approach me. “She’s a bad ass fucking drummer, and she’s a pretty fucking cool chick, too.”

I was confused where he was going with this as he came to stand next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder the way he had earlier that day after soundcheck.

“Which is why, (Y/N), I gotta ask: will you go on a date with me sometime?”

Slight embarrassment was swelling somewhere inside of me at being asked out in such a public way, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the fuzzy feeling of excitement inside of me. I looked up at Colson, my eyes wide and a smile on my lips.

 He lowered the mic so he could privately add, “I’m being serious. I wanna take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

My words were stuck in my throat, but I was able to nod in response. The smile on Colson’s face stretched so wide that I could’ve been convinced he was the one lighting the show.

“Okay,” he said, then lifted the mic to say to his audience, “Let’s get back to the show guys!”

[dirtychocolatechai]

meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy. 

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you. 

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries. 

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable. 

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.” 

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately. 

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...” 

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?” 

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.” 

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.” 

“No, no, I know...” 

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.” 

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found. 

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing. 

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.” 

Shit, she smells so good...

 “Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face. 

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?” 

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic. 

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills. 

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch. 

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it. 

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.” 

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.” 

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”. 

[navalcriminalimagines]

Taken & Found - 1

Request 1: Hey there! I'd really like to see a comforting Gibbs after the reader was kidnapped?

Request 2: Could ya do something with the reader being kidnapped and tortured in captivity for a long time and after she was rescued and came back Gibbs tries to get her to talk about what happened to her so he can figure out how to help/comfort her?

Request 3: May I request something with Gibbs and scared reader? Maybe they’re like trapped somewhere or she’s going under for a surgery? You can decide reader’s fate!

This is a two-part fic. This part is basically full angst, focused on Gibbs and the comforting, healing focus on Reader will come in the second part. I wanted to separate both.

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

TW: angst, kidnapping, mention of suicide, depression, slight alcoholism

Words count: 3k

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra @ncisfan @zetasaturno99

She was supposed to be thirty-five years old today.

And it was one of those very rare days Gibbs didn’t want to get out of bed.

He spent the night working on his boat in the basement, thinking about what his life would be if anything had happened. But he would never know, would he? No matter how bad he wished Shannon and Kelly weren’t dead, how bad he wished you were here with him… all of this happened. And he found himself alone in his basement.

Well, not entirely alone. He had a bottle of bourbon to keep him company, and Fraser, an old black labrador. Your old black lab. Your furry baby, as you used to say.

You rescued it when it was just a puppy, a couple of years before you joined NCIS. So, Gibbs has always known you with this loving thing. At some point, you would even take him to the office and Fraser’s favorite spot was under Gibbs’s desk.

Gibbs never wanted to get attached to the dog. Fraser wasn’t his, it was yours and he respected that. But somehow, you both made your way to his heart.

But only Fraser was still here.

Taking a sip of bourbon directly out of the bottle, his eyes landed on your pet, curled up in the armchair Gibbs put here years ago after you made a remark. “You know, you should put something down here. An armchair or something for people who visit.” You said, while caressing the wood with your fingertips. God did he wish he was the boat at this very moment.

“People who visit never stick around.” He answered, sternly.

“I stick around,” you grinned.

Indeed, you did stick around. A lot. Probably too much.

Would’ve saved him the heartbreak if you didn’t.

A week later, an armchair was down his basement.

With the bottle still in his hand, Gibbs sat next to Fraser and started to toy the blankie. Well, technically, it was not a blankie. It was a tee-shirt. One of yours. The one you left at his house, two years ago.

The top, representing one of your favorite bands, was destroyed now. Fraser chewed it, curled against it nonstop for two years, it was now just some cotton with dog’s hair on it. It didn’t have your smell anymore, it had Fraser’s, but Gibbs never had the strength to take it away from the dog to wash it.

He never had the strength to do much after you disappeared.

When it was clear to the team that you had been taken, kidnapped, abducted or whatever, Gibbs searched for you for weeks, probably mouths. He still does, to be honest, just not 24/7 anymore.

The first weeks, he asked - or actually, ordered - Abby to take care of Fraser. Gibbs was spending all of his time away, looking for you, he couldn’t take care of someone - well, a living thing. The lab tech happily obliged, but Fraser’s health quickly deteriorated. The dog wasn’t eating, or drinking. All he did was lay on the floor, waiting for his mum to come back.

“What, Abby? I don’t—“ not a welcoming way to answer the phone but she didn’t hold it against him.

“I know you’re busy, Gibbs, but I’m taking Fraser to the vet. He’s not okay at all.”

Abby heard her boss taking a deep breath. “Which vet? I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

The dog was clearly letting himself die. Without you, he didn’t see the point of living and Gibbs understood that. If he told anyone what he did after he got Fraser from the vet, they would think he was crazy. Maybe he was, but he didn’t care at this point. He didn’t care about anything, anymore.

Fraser was depressed and there was nothing the vet could do about it. So, they let Gibbs take him home.

And he took him home. His real home; your apartment. Fraser immediately lay on your bed and cried. “You’re reading my mind, Fra.” Gibbs muttered to himself, while preparing a bowl for the pet.

Gibbs had been in your room a few times, but he never paid attention to your stuff. All his attention was on you and your body when it happened. But as he was sitting on the floor, his back against your bed, he allowed himself to take a look around. It was very much you. Minimalist with your touch. He saw your guitar, your messy wardrobe, candles and some Polaroid pictures of people you love. Gibbs never paid attention to those pictures until this moment and one grabbed his attention.

A picture of him. You could see him from afar, aiming to throw a ball. He remembered that night but he never knew you took a picture.

Ziva had invited him to throw a few balls on a baseball field. It was a nice summer night and they had just saved many people from getting blown up. It was also the first night you kissed him. In his basement, you teased him like you always did and ended up with your lips on his. He wasn’t ready for it at that moment, and when he realised what had happened, you were already gone.

Gibbs held the picture in his hand and before sitting back exactly where he was, he went to the kitchen, grabbed what he had prepared and came back.

Fraser was still laying on your bed, his face on your pillow. Gibbs carried him in his arms, the labrador didn’t even fight back or anything. He put him in front of the bowl and Gibbs sat across. “You wanna die, Fra, huh?” The dog looked at him with horrifying sadness in his eyes. “You and me both, buddy. So let’s do this.”

Gibbs put the picture next to the bowl and grabbed his gun and the bottle of whiskey. “I know you know that salmon. Eat it, choke, and when you take your last breath, I’ll pull the trigger.” He said, pressing the gun against his temple.

Fraser is deadly allergic to salmon. When he was a few months old, you fed him some and the reaction was almost instantaneous. Luckily, you took him to the vet right on time for them to save him. “Salmon is banned from the house.” you said on the ride home.

The dog didn’t move one bit. With his face still resting on the floor, he kept looking at the man. Gibbs swore he saw tears in the damn dog’s eyes. “So? Whatcha waiting for? Eat it. It’s good salmon, trust me.” He said, drinking the brown liquor.

If Fraser could talk, he would’ve told him; ‘I may let myself die, but you’re damn crazy.’ Which would’ve been fair.

Gibbs was going crazy. It was the last straw. The last punch in the guts he could take. He had reached his limit.

He was finally letting himself love again and get loved in return. And someone took that away from him. All over again.

He got it, the universe hates him for some reasons. Why would he keep pushing it then?

Gibbs stayed up all night, drinking and waiting for Fraser to eat the fish and die. So he could pull the trigger and end this once and for all.

But Fra never did. Instead, around 5am, the dog went to grab something from the bathroom and put it on Gibbs’ lap. It was one of his hoodies. A hoodie you stole from him. Gibbs buried his nose in it and he could smell you. For the first time in many years, he let himself cry. He cried like a fucking baby, under the watch of your fucking dog.

At some point, he felt that Fraser was trying to nudge his nose in the hoodie too. “We’ll find her, Fra. We have to.”

If Gibbs had killed himself, along with Fraser, it would’ve meant you were gone forever. Because eventually, people would’ve stopped looking for you. They would’ve stopped thinking about you and just pretended you’re dead.

But Gibbs knew you weren’t dead. He knew it deep inside him. Because if you were dead, Fraser would’ve eaten the salmon and he would’ve pulled the trigger.

Laying in his bed, Gibbs turned on his side and found himself face to face with Fraser. The dog was sleeping and snoring. That’s what he does most of his time. Fra was still depressed, but he didn’t let himself die anymore. He eats and drinks the bare minimum. He doesn’t play anymore though. He used to be a happy, playful and loving dog. Now he’s just laying around, waiting for you to come back.

Just like Gibbs.

They both lost weight. Gibbs didn’t even bother to look at himself in the mirror anymore. He hadn’t been to the hairdresser in a while. His hair was longer than it has never been, and his beard was prominent now. You would probably freak out if you saw him like this. You would order him to shave and get his marine haircut back. You would feed him - and Fraser - until they are full. He just wished you were here.

He reached for Fraser’s head and pet him for a moment. “The boat is done and I can’t even offer it to her.” He sadly whispered. It’s been his plan a long time before you were gone. Building a boat after and for you. Now it was your thirty-fifth birthday, the boat was fucking done but he coudn’t teach you how to operate it like he promised.

For the next two weeks, Gibbs would stay in the basement, and stare at the finished product. There was nothing left to do on it, so he just sat behind the wheel, files on his lap and bourdon in one hand. His use of alcohol has never been higher than it is now. You’d scold him if you knew.

Maybe he’s self-destructing, hoping you’d show up and make everything right again. It was stupid, since you didn’t leave on your own. You were taken. Someone took you, and god knows what they were doing to you. This awoke a rage he never knew he had. He’d kill that - or those - person with his bare hands if he ever has a chance.

A month after your birthday, Gibbs was basically falling asleep in his boat, relatively drunk. Fraser was on his lap - he doesn’t realise he’s not a puppy anymore - when the dog shot his head up. “Easy, that’s just Fornell.” Gibbs mumbled, recognizing his friend’s footsteps.

“My two favorite depressed boys.” Tobias greeted them. He gently patted Fraser’s head and looked at his friend. “I need you to sober up, Gibbs. We need to talk about something important.”

“Just say whatever you have to say. I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah, right.” Tobias grabbed the bottle from Gibbs’s hand and checked how empty it was. But Tobias knew only one thing would make him react, so he went straight to the point. “It’s about Y/N, Gibbs. Get your ass—“

Before the FBI agent could finish his sentence, Gibbs had practically thrown Fraser away. The poor dog looked at him with hurt in his eyes. It was only then that Gibbs saw the file his friend was holding against his chest. He didn’t think twice and tore it out of his grip. Tobias let him.

There wasn’t much in the file, just a picture.

A picture of you.

You looked different, thinner, your hair was shorter and in a completely different color. You looked like a homeless woman.

Gibbs’s jaw dropped. His head was spinning so fast, he needed to sit again. He touched the picture with his fingertips so softly, hoping it was like touching you. A lot of things were going through his mind at this moment, he actually drew a blank. “It was taken two days ago. In Wyoming.”

Gibbs didn’t need more.

Tobias had everything planned before he showed up at Gibbs’s place. One of the FBI private planes was waiting for them, in order to take them off to Wyoming. He had asked Emily if she could dogsit Fraser for a few days, and he even called Vance to let him know he was taking Gibbs with him.

In the plane, he told Gibbs how he came across this picture and all of the info he had, which wasn’t much to be honest. As far as they knew, you were in one city of Wyoming two days ago. Maybe you were gone by now.

But all Gibbs could focus on was that picture. He didn’t take his eyes off it since he opened the file. This was you. You were alive. Whatever happened, whatever the reasons you found yourself here, you were fucking alive.

Tobias looked at his friend. He’ll spend the rest of his life pretending he didn’t see the tear rolling down his cheek. “How you feeling?” He tentatively asked.

“I—I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“She’s alive. We know it. We’ll find her.”

“I’ve always known she was alive.”

No doubt he did.

It was hard for Tobias to tame Gibbs after they landed. The agent was already barking orders at everybody and anybody, he was ready to organize a fucking manhunt to find you. But the first place they went was where the picture was taken. Gibbs spent hours in the area, while Tobias went to see the local cops. When he tried to check on Gibbs, the man never answered.

In the picture, you were looking at the surveillance camera. You knew you were being watched. You did it on purpose, Gibbs was sure of it. You must have left a clue somewhere around.

You looked scared, someone must have been following you. But he knew from what Tobias said; there wasn’t much more on the video. You were briefly seen and then disappeared, again. “Talk to me, Y/N.” Gibbs thought to himself while looking around.

It was only around noon that it hit him. He finally saw it.

Right there on the graffiti wall.

“Born to lose, live to win.”

Your handwriting. This sentence. Your tattoo.

You must have written this to let him know he should look at this wall. So he did. He studied those graffitis for a long moment, until he saw what he needed to see.

Numbers. GPS coordinates.

He called McGee, not paying attention to the missed calls he had. He gave him the coordinates and Tim gave him an address.

Was that it? The nightmare was finally over? He would go to this address, find you and take you home. Finally.

Fucking finally.

He felt dizzy while running to the address. It wasn’t that far away, and there was no way he’d wait for Fornell or a cab. So, he jogged to this fucking house. When he was standing in front of it, his heart was beating so fast, he thought it would stop.

But he couldn’t die now. He would die after he found you but not now.

He didn’t care about procedures or anything. He grabbed his gun, and let himself in the house by knocking out the door. A man was sitting there, on the couch.

The house was pure filth. The man seemed to be a bit younger than him, and he looked like a psychopath. Which he is, considering he took you.

The man was standing in his living room, his hands up as Gibbs pointed the gun at him. In a flash, Gibbs was standing right in front of the man, the gun pressed against his throat. The man looked scared, he didn’t even try to fight. “What the hell, man? Who are you? What do—“

“Shut your mouth. Where is she?” Gibbs asked, suppressing the urge to beat the man to death right now. That would come later. He needed to find you first.

“Who? There’s no—“

Gibbs’s knee hit him right in his crotch and that bastard fell on the floor. “You’re living the final hour of your life, you better tell me where the hell is Y/N, before I watch life leaving your fucking eyes.”

“I—I—“

Seeing his hesitation, Gibbs punched him. “Where?!” He yelled, but the man stayed silent. “Fine.”

Gibbs grabbed the guy by his collar to put him back up. He was physically impressive, but the adrenaline running through Gibbs’s veins gave him incredible strength. He threw him on the first chair he saw and immediately cuffed him to it. He punched him once more, harder this time.

His nose and lips were bloody, but of course it wasn’t enough. Gibbs fought a lot in his life. To defend himself or to arrest someone, but never, had he been filled with that much rage and anger. He didn’t think twice before his boot hit the man directly in his face, knocking him unconscious. He stared as the man fell on the floor along with the chair he was cuffed to.

He needed to find you. Right now.

No need to be a federal agent to know a psychopath would hold you captive somewhere private.

So he immediately looked for a basement, which he quickly found and he saw the door.

A reinforced door with quite a few locks. Keys. He needed keys that he found in the man’s pocket. Although he was still laying on the floor, fighting to regain consciousness, Gibbs kicked him again, in the stomach this time. He wasn’t holding back his strength one bit. He will kill him anyway.

As he was unlocking the door, his hands were shaking like they never did before. His heart was still pounding in his chest. He still felt dizzy.

He was sure his heart actually stopped when he spotted you on the one-person bed. You were holding your knees against your chest. It was dark, but it was you. You were there, a few feet in front of him. He didn’t even know what to do.

But you did.

When you realised who was standing in front of you, you weakly jumped off the bed and rushed into his arms.

The only thing that kept you alive all this time; knowing that he would find you.

You felt even smaller than you already were. With your arms wrapped around his waist, your face buried in his chest, Gibbs felt you crying.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, afraid it wasn’t real. Afraid he may hurt you. Afraid you would disappear again. “You found me.” he heard you whispering.

That he did.

[selfpositiveundertale]

Update update update!

We got approved for a Scratchpay loan and today we took Soul to the affordable vet care clinic. They did xrays, urinalysis, and other stuff to see what was going on.

They did not see any bladder stones or crystals, though they won't rule that out in the future, but he had some "sludge", as the vet tech put it, in his bladder and issues with his urethra. They gave him fluids and other injections to relieve his pain and discomfort and relax his urethra so he'll be able to pee more easily and! He peed! In the carrier, as we were just getting home, and he ruined the little catnip ball I made for him to help him stay calm on the trip, but the important thing is he peed a real puddle and not just a tiny drop! I was so happy I nearly cried. I've never been so happy to smell cat pee in my life. The vet also provided some meds for me to give him for the next 5 days. I will give him his first dose in an hour or so, when I give the doggo her joint care chew. That gives me a bit of time to get warm and rest a little because I had to stand outside in the cold for a little while and now everything hurts and I'm exhausted.

The bill was $300. We will be making $27 payments every month for a year or so. Not terrible, but still a bit of a squeeze considering all our other expenses. But when my husband's new job starts paying him in a week or two, things should get a little easier.

I will not be going to the event I was trying to prepare for as I want to stay home and take care of Soul and I'm not even ready for it anyway. This will also give me more time to chip away at my Etsy orders. I might keep my shop closed until I get them all finished and then open it back up with some new policies in place. If an item sells more than three times in a week, I will leave it closed until I have gotten all the orders completed. If I get more than 5 orders in a week, I will put my shop on vacation until they're all done. I will also be crocheting my most popular items and treating this like a real job. 4-8 hours a day working on projects, and keeping at least 3 of each of the most popular items ready made at all times. What happened with the Christmas rush, getting 13 orders behind and still struggling to get them done in January, will not happen again. I will make sure of it. I'm going to stay on top of it and take it more seriously.

Big thanks to everyone who helped out by donating. To the person who commissioned me for art, I'm still working on it and it's coming along.

If anyone else wants to commission me, I have 4 slots left! See my first post about Soul for commission details. I still need to post my newer stuff to my art blog but I'll try to get some of it posted soon.

Start determined, y'all!

[ask-a-vetblr]

Hi! Any advice for a newly graduated baby vet who's high key terrified of starting practice.

vet-and-wild here.

Hello from a 2020 grad. It’s scary, but you know more than you think. You will be overwhelmed sometimes, and you will feel like you know nothing sometimes. But trust your gut, talk to your coworkers/classmates about cases, and be honest with owners if you don’t know something. I have definitely told owners that I wanted to look something up and none of them have seemed upset about it. They seem to appreciate the honesty and that you want to give the most up-to-date information. Good mentorship is also really helpful. Finding a job with a good support network will help you when you feel stuck. And you will feel stuck. Even the most experienced vets get stuck sometimes! I also found that working through things step-wise helped me. I had a really hard time organizing my thoughts with the DAMNIT-V scheme in vet school and how they wanted us to work up cases. You’ll find your groove! You don’t have to do it like they wanted you to do in school, and you won’t always be able to do gold standard. Offer it, but have backups ready. Real life isn’t like vet school. You’re not constantly being quizzed. Yes, owners ask questions, but most of them you will be able to answer (and if you can’t, see above). No one is going to be breathing down your neck to list every possible differential for a vomiting dog, or the mechanism of a certain drug, or a super complex specialty procedure that you’ll probably never do anyway. You have the freedom to practice the way you want and yes, it’s scary, but it’s also freeing. Look things up. Ask for help. Perfect your own exam and organization. You got this!

gettingvetted here.

Also a 2020 grad! I was so anxious before my first night of practice that I stayed up all night with a panic attack, crying. Now I’m doing fine! I had little to no mentorship in my first job as I was alone in the satellite office most of the time. However, two of the techs had worked in the practice for 10+ years and were usually able to suggest something to do if I got stuck, or tell me what the head vet would do in a certain situation. Use your experienced support staff!

Also, a VIN membership is definitely helpful. They have a lot of articles on the diagnosis and treatment of a variety of common diseases, as well as a message board where you can find just about any topic of discussion or post your own, and a formulary that lets you type in the weight of your patient and gives you exactly the dose you’ll need. The vet-to-vet pages on Facebook can also be very helpful!

[sunnysviolin]

God I love your blog I spent all day just looking at it and I’m like yes more Omori brain worms

Also, what do you think the Omori gang’s jobs would be when they’re adults? I kinda meta’d and thought Sunny would be a little comic book artist with the character Omoriboy but I’m curious on your thoughts

Awww thank you! Also you have given me the perfect excuse to show off my happiest AU aka the ‘everyone stays in town together, and lowkey they all live at Hero’s house’  I have a lot of different ideas for what they could end up being, so if this isn’t your cup of tea it’s not my firm canon haha! I actually do have an artist sunny series which would probably be up your alley if you were interested in hearing about that too! Alsooooo this got long again it’s under a read more. I’m calling it Come Home series and I really like it if you guys are interested in hearing more 0-0 I only talk about Basil Sunny and Kel here haha because it got long long, but there’s defintiely another part coming to this if you guys want it! 

Basil starts going back to school post-canon, and he ends up doing pretty good for his last two years, but it’s still a struggle considering he missed so much school over the last four years. The idea of going to college is particularly stressful to him, so Polly doesn’t push it on him. She didn’t end up finishing college, and she turned out alright. 

Polly does want Basil to be thinking about his future though, and so she encourages him to find something related to what he’s passionate about. Which leads to Basil working part time at Fix-It in the gardening section. 

He quickly branches out of just gardening, although that is still his favorite. There’s something deeply gratifying about seeing what he’s created with his own two hands, and having people ask for his help only with simple things he can fix for them. 

Basil starts up a deep mentoring relationship with the couple who owns  Fix-It. They like to hear his passionate rambles about the flowers, and they like the ideas he has. Basil starts to lead flower arrangement classes, and they end up being a big hit. 

When he’s in the spring of his senior year, they ask him about his plans. When they find out he isn’t really all that interested in college, they ask if he could come on full time, and maybe even apprentice. They have a son of their own, but he is a lawyer and has no interest in the shop. Basil is excited by this, and he almost immediately agrees. 

There’s a lot more to running the shop then he thought, but he loves it. He’s content just to be the manager for now, but the couple has assured him that within the next five years they plan to retire and the shop will be his for good.

Kel does end up getting a scholarship for basketball. It’s to a good school (not quite Hero’s level, but better than his parents expected). It’s a big state school compared to Hero’s tiny private, but his parents are happy and they have a winning basketball team. The problem is that Kel has no idea what he would want to do. 

He had some ideas, but I think that learning the truth really affected him. He had thought he wanted to be a basketball star, or something to do with the sports industry, but that all feels so juvenile now. Now Kel wants to do something real and good. He wants to work with people, but he isn’t sure what that might mean. 

Kel goes to school as an undecided major, and they stick him in a bunch of different types of classes. Most of them are painfully boring, hard, and he just isn’t interested. He briefly considers dropping out, but he knows how disappointed his mom and dad would be. They didn’t get the opportunity to get a college degree, so it kind of feels like slapping them in the face if he gave back all the money he got just because he didn’t have any passion. 

There is one class that Kel really enjoys. The class is called Child’s Play and it’s a psychology course. Specifically a class on the influence of play children’s lives. It’s still hard for him, and he struggles to fully comprehend the material, but it’s something he’s passionate about. 

He talks with his advisor about it, and the man suggests combining all of the things he’s been passionate about so far. He wants to do good for other people, he is interested in sports, and he liked learning about how children work. His advisor puts him in an education couse and a few physical health courses, and Kel enters his sophomore year with a physical education major. 

Kel doesn’t graduate with honors like Hero, but he does graduate with a plan. He does his student teaching at Faraway High, his connections with his coach and the school helping to grease the wheels. (It doesn’t hurt that he’s living with Sunny by this point, and Sunny got a job offer in Faraway that he’s going to accept...but more on that later)

They offer him a tentative position at the end of the year, and he accepts it. He also takes on the basketball team, and they win the playoffs for the first time since he graduated, which cinches his job in tight.

Sunny also doesn’t end up going to college. Not only did he not have the grades, it just wasn’t something he thought he would be very good at. He doesn’t really have a plan, just that he wants to still be by his friends. Hero is far from them now, and Aubrey is planning on going away too, but Basil and Kel are staying close by

He ends up talking to Kel about it late one night, and Kel proposes a great idea. They’ll get an apartment together off campus instead of him living in the dorms, and Sunny can figure his life out while Kel gets a friend and study partner. 

Sunny’s mother is very happy with this idea, and Kel’s parents are satisfied that he won’t be off partying every night if he has Sunny with him, so they agree as well. What Sunny’s mother isn’t excited about is the idea of her baby not getting any degree or anything. So she makes a compromise. She and Sunny will find a good trade school near Kel’s college, and Sunny will take classes in something he enjoys

She assumes he will pick art classes or something that she knows he likes, but Sunny surprisingly picks veterinary certification. It feels out of left field, but if it makes Sunny happy and he’s going to go to his internships and his classes then so be it. 

Sunny is never top of the class, but he is serious about doing well. There are aspects of the job that he does not do well with, but he manages. He gets his vet tech certification and finds a starting position near where he lives with Kel

Living with Kel is a breath of fresh air. It feels good to have a partner in life who doesn’t expect him to talk or to act like everyone else. Kel is a master at reading Sunny, and it’s a bone deep relaxation to not have to try and express himself. Most of the time Sunny can just listen and let Kel talk to him. They work well with chores and food and generally everything. Every day feels like a sleepover honestly, and Sunny starts to smile a bit more and reach just a little father out of his comfort zone. 

Kel loves living with Sunny. Every night they get to just spend time together and enjoy each others presence, and sometimes Basil will come up and they all get to eat dinner together in their little shoebox apartment. One of their windowsills is full of plants that Basil has brought them. 

At the end of their four years Kel knows that he wants to go back to Faraway to work. He has been commuting there for student teaching, and while it’s only an hour, it’s still pretty far. The problem is that he can’t imagine leaving Sunny alone. Not after four years of them being together every single day. Then Sunny reveals that he found a job in the town next to Faraway that he wants to take. He doesn’t want to leave Kel though, and he’s not sure what to do. 

They have a long conversation that night, and they both agree that they want to stay together. It’s been an unspoken thing, but neither of them ended up having any long term partner in the last four years. They don’t have romantic feelings for one another, but they want to continue what they have. It’s safe, it’s lovely, and they feel secure in their bond. Whatever happens they want to decide as a team, as a partnership. 

With Kel and Sunny both coming back to Faraway they assume that they’re going to have to try and find a place to live closer. They’re going to stay with Kel’s parents until they do, but Basil has a better idea. 

Polly loves Basil a lot. She has adored getting to raise him and helping him and guiding him the last six years. But now her quiet sweet boy is a grown man, and his parents stopped paying her for caring for him over a year ago. She knows that the best thing to do would be to detach herself and to let him continue to grow without her constant presence. 

Basil isn’t sure he’s ready to be all by himself, and when he finds out Kel and Sunny are coming back to Faraway, he offers to let them stay at his house. It might be a bit cramped all three of them, and they don’t have to, but it could be nice. They say yes before he can even begin to second guess himself

So as bright and bushy 21/22 year olds, Kel, Basil, and Sunny all have Come Home. 

[suituuup]

pieces - epilogue

That’s it, folks! Thank you for coming along this journey. Huge shout out to @snowonebutyou and @lilhan, this story wouldn’t have been the same without their help.

ao3 link

*

“Come on Bean, you can do it,” Chloe encouraged, holding her arms out towards Marleigh as the one-year-old stood, Beca sitting behind her. 

Marleigh grinned and took an unsteady step, then another one, before falling on her bum. She giggled and pushed back to her feet to make the remaining three steps to her mom, collapsing into her arms. 

“Oh my goodness, you’re walking,” Chloe gushed as she peppered her face with kisses. “Where did the time go??” She set her back down, facing Beca. “Wanna do it again?” 

Beca grinned, extending her arms this time. “Come to Auntie Beca, MJ!” 

Chloe smiled, holding Marleigh’s hips as she spoke close to her ear. “Go to Mama.”

Beca froze and met her eyes, a silent question swirling in them as they simultaneously filled with tears. Chloe’s smile simply widened, and she glanced away from Beca to focus on Marleigh as she toddled to Beca, squealing as she did. 

“You-- really?” Beca asked as she held Marleigh against her. 

Chloe nodded. “You’re not her aunt, Bec. You’ve been there since day one, raising her with me. I know it can’t be official on paper yet, but to me, you’re Marleigh’s other parent.” After a pause, she added, “If you want that, that is.” 

Beca visibly swallowed, and a couple of tears spilled down her cheeks. She cleared her throat, seemingly at a loss for words as she glanced at MJ, leaning in to kiss her chubby cheek. 

*

Beca wasn’t a fan of the cold, but she had to admit that a white Christmas was pretty dope. 

So was Christmas in the Beale fashion. They had spent the day before baking cookies, singing Christmas carols, and once it was dark, had gone out to Rockefeller to see the tree. 

Beca woke to the sound of babbling through the baby monitor that morning, and after finding Chloe sound asleep, turned the device off and slipped from under the covers. She padded to the nursery across the hall and smiled at the sight of a wide-awake Marleigh staring up at her with those big blue eyes. 

“G’morning, Bean,” she murmured, bending down to pick her up. Turned out Marleigh was still a bit sleepy, cuddling into Beca as soon as she was in her arms. Beca brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Merry Christmas.” 

She walked down the hall towards the living room and turned on the tree lights, knowing how obsessed Marleigh was with the colors. 

“Look at aaaaall the presents, Mar,” Beca said as she pointed to the various piles of gifts she and Chloe had hustled to wrap last night. “I think most of it is for you, baby.” 

Marleigh babbled incoherent things, pointing to the tree. Her features broke into a wide smile as she looked at something over Beca’s shoulder, and Beca turned around to see Chloe padding over. 

“Merry Christmas,” Chloe said, leaning in to kiss Beca’s lips, then Marleigh’s cheek. 

Marleigh had a blast opening her presents, even though she looked definitely more entertained by the wrapping paper than the gifts themselves. Beca felt nerves sprout in her belly as she stood up to pour herself more coffee, plucking the small box laying under the tree and handing it to MJ. 

“This is for Mommy,” she whispered, pointing to Chloe. “Can you go give it to her?” 

“Ya!” Marleigh exclaimed and walked over to where Chloe sat. 

Chloe glanced at Beca questioningly, then at her daughter. She took the box, her hand shaking lightly. “Thank you, baby.” Her eyes met Beca once more, then widened as she opened the box to find a sparkling diamond ring. Not any ring; her grandmother’s. “Beca…”

When she finally tore her gaze away from it, Beca had shuffled closer. “That business trip I took to LA a couple of months ago? It was actually to Portland. I wanted to ask your parents if they were okay with me asking you an important question, and your mom insisted I had this ring. Chloe…” she took a deep breath, shifting from a sitting position to down one knee. “You are everything to me. This past year and a half have been my happiest yet, and it’s all because of you. And I want to make this, us, to become a forever thing,” Beca paused, smiling as happy tears stung her eyes. “Chlo, will you marry me?”

Chloe choked on a watery chuckle. “Yes,” she whispered, crushing the distance between them to press a lingering kiss on Beca’s lips. “I love you.” 

Beca beamed. “I love you, too.” She laughed when Bean crashed their embrace, wrapping an arm around her. Her heart felt fit to burst from happiness. “And you.” 

*

They started house hunting as soon as Chloe secured a vet tech position in the clinic she was completing her internship in, in Stamford, Connecticut. After a couple of months’ search, they found a lovely farmhouse in Westchester County, just outside of Bedford, located an hour from Manhattan and thirty minutes from Stamford.

It was built in the 1900s in the New England housing style, complete with the traditional covered porch, metal standing seam roof, rafter tails, and barn-style garage. The interior had been fully renovated, giving way to a fresh and modern spin. 

“There’s a greenhouse, too, and a cottage,” Chloe said with a soft gasp as they wandered about the three acres that came with the property after visiting the inside. Marleigh was just ahead of them, exploring. “We’d have enough space for a dog, and maybe some goats and chickens?” 

Beca chuckled. “Goats and chickens? Since when are we having a farm?” 

Chloe giggled, shrugging. “I really want Bean to grow up around animals.”

Beca smiled and kissed Chloe’s cheek. “Fine, we can have goats and chickens. I won’t be going around the chickens, though. They kinda scare me.” 

“Really?” Chloe asked, unable to stop herself from snickering. 

Beca glared. “Don’t make fun of me, Beale.” 

“Mommy!” Marleigh called out, holding up what looked like a daisy. “Look. Pwetty.” 

Chloe crouched down to her level, smiling. “Very pretty. Do you like it here, baby?” 

Marleigh nodded her pigtails bouncing with the movement. She pointed to the swingset. “We go there?” 

Chloe pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Go ahead.” 

They signed the papers a few weeks later and were set to move there the following summer, after Chloe’s graduation.

All the pieces of her puzzle were finally coming together, and Chloe couldn’t feel happier.

*

“You ready to clap, Bean?” Beca asked as she and Marleigh sat in one of the back rows, among the other students’ families. “It’s almost Mommy’s turn.” 

“Mommy?” Marleigh asked, pointing at the stage. 

“Not yet,” Beca murmured, smiling at her impatience and brushing a kiss to her head. 

Two students later, Chloe walked across the stage. 

“Mommy!” Marleigh called out as the Dean handed Chloe her diploma. She clapped from her spot on Beca’s lap, beaming. Chloe waved and blew them a kiss before she headed down the steps leading off the stage. 

The ceremony ended forty-five minutes later, and Beca and MJ met up with Chloe by the side of the stage. 

“Congratulations, baby,” Beca murmured, kissing her softly. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Marleigh dutifully gave her mom the flowers she and Beca picked up this morning. “Congwatulations, Mommy!”

Chloe bent down to pick her up. “Thank you, my love. I feel like this calls for ice cream. What do you say?” 

“Yes! I want four scoops!” Marleigh declared, holding up three fingers. 

Beca chuckled, holding up four fingers herself. “That’s four, Bean.” 

Marleigh copied her, grinning “Four scoops!” 

Beca tickled her sides, drawing a string of uncontrolled giggles from the toddler. They settled at the park with their ice cream, enjoying the warm June afternoon. 

Chloe cuddled close to Beca as they watched Marleigh play with her toys ten feet away. “She’s growing up way too fast,” Chloe murmured. 

Beca hummed. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you’re ready to have another kid, Beale?” 

A giggle flitted past Chloe’s lips. “No. I think we’re just on the brink of getting a case of the terrible twos, so it’s probably best if we only have one kid to handle for now.” 

Beca laughed. MJ was definitely showing some temper and had already given them a taste of what toddler tantrums could be like. “That’s probably wise. And maybe we could get married first, too?” 

With the house hunting and Chloe finishing up her school year, they hadn’t really talked about it. 

“Can we do it at home? I really want my dad to be there.” 

Her father’s condition had stabilized over the last year or so. They had visited him a few times since MJ’s birth, and Beca could tell he was relieved to be able to hold his granddaughter and interact with her despite his condition.

“Of course we can,” she murmured, brushing a kiss to Chloe’s forehead. “I was also thinking… that we could stay there longer this summer? Two weeks is going to fly by, and if we stayed a month then maybe your mom could take some time off?” 

Alice had been caring for her husband for the last five years, and Chloe had shared that she was worried it was taking too much of a toll on her. 

Chloe lifted her head from Beca’s chest. “Would you really be okay with that?” 

“Yeah,” Beca said, brushing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Mama,” MJ called as she walked over, holding a rock. “Pwesent.” 

Beca held out her hand, smiling. Marleigh had an obsession with rocks, lately. “Thank you, baby. I love it.”

MJ snuggled in between the two of them, curling up against Beca’s chest. 

“You tired, Bean?” Beca asked softly, dropping a kiss on her hair. MJ didn’t answer, her breathing evening out a few seconds later. 

Beca shared a look with Chloe and smiled. It felt odd to think of how, ten years ago, she was convinced music and success would be the key to her happiness. And it had been, for a good five years, up until Chloe came back into her life. 

This, what they built together since then, brought Beca to another level of happiness she didn’t know was possible. 

*

They got married on a warm September evening, at an orchard with the ocean as a gorgeous backdrop. 

Marleigh was supposed to be the flower girl, but she changed her mind last minute, refusing to go first and clinging to Chloe, who ended up picking her up before she walked down the aisle alongside her father. 

Beca’s father walked her down the aisle next, and Chloe heard Marleigh gasp. “Mama looks pwetty,” the two-year-old whispered. 

“She really does,” Chloe agreed quietly, tears of happiness already filling her eyes as Beca came to a stop in front of her. 

“You look…” Beca faltered, shaking her head as what looked like awe flashed in her features. “Incredibly beautiful, Chlo.” Her focus shifted to MJ. “And you’re the cutest flower girl ever.” 

Marleigh giggled and motioned for Chloe to set her down, but she remained by Aubrey’s side. They recited their vows in front of their closest friends and immediate family, exchanging rings and somehow managing to make it through the ceremony without bawling their eyes out. 

“I now pronounce you, wife and wife,” Aubrey said, a beaming smile breaking across her features. “You may now kiss.” 

Chloe grinned and cupped Beca’s cheek, stepping closer and pressing a lingering kiss to her lips as their friends whistled and hooted. 

“Yuck!” Marleigh exclaimed, and Chloe found her peeking through her fingers when they parted. 

She laughed and picked her up, she and Beca kissing each cheek before they started down the aisle under the applause of their loved ones. 

*

“Where we going?” 

Beca smiled as she laced Marleigh’s shoes. “We’re going to the courthouse, Bean.” 

“Wha’s that?” 

“It’s where big decisions are made, by people we call judges. Today we’re meeting with a judge who will decide if I can become your real mom.” 

They had tried to explain that to Marleigh since signing the petition for Beca to adopt her, but Marleigh had argued that Beca was already her Mama. It had been a long process since their wedding, with background checks and a visit from the child protective services. 

“I hope the judge says yes,” Marleigh said as she swung her legs. 

Beca smiled. “Me, too.” She kissed her forehead and picked her up, heading down the stairs. Part of her expected Marco to show up out of the blue, but she knew that was unlikely, as he probably didn’t know of Marleigh’s existence. 

Nerves sprouted in Beca’s belly when they sat down for the final hearing. Marleigh sat on her lap, asking questions about the room they were in and being a welcome distraction as they waited for the judge. 

“And that?” 

“That’s a gavel,” Beca said. “The judge hits it when he makes a decision, or sometimes, when there’s a lot of people in the room and they’re talking too loud, the judge will slam it on their desk to request silence.” 

They stood when the judge walked in, the middle-aged woman motioning for them to sit down while she reviewed their file. 

“Mrs. Rebecca Mitchell, is it still your intent to adopt Marleigh Beale and become her other parent under the eyes of the law?” 

“Yes, your honor,” Beca answered, her voice shaking slightly as emotions swirled in her chest. 

“Mrs. Chloe Mitchell, do you still consent to Rebecca adopting your daughter and giving her, her last name?” 

“I do, your honor.” 

The judge motioned for them to come forward. “Sign here, and here.” 

Beca sucked in a sharp breath, meeting Chloe’s eyes before she took the pen and scribbled her signature at the bottom of the document. Chloe did the same right after, casting Beca a smile. 

“You say yes?” Marleigh asked, looking up at the judge. “Mama is my real mom, now?”

The judge chuckled, smiling warmly. “She is. Congratulations.” 

Beca wiped a tear sliding down her cheek. “Thank you.” 

She pulled her family into a long embrace as soon as they stepped out of the courtroom, basking into the moment.

“Can we go get ice cream, now?” Marleigh asked, breaking the silence. 

Chloe smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I think that’s a great idea.” She slid her hand into Beca’s, raising it to her lips and dropping a kiss to her knuckles. “Come on, Mitchells. Ice cream’s on me.” 

*

Fall was Chloe’s favorite season. It got incredibly beautiful in Westchester once the tree adorned their golden and scarlet leaves, and one of her favorite things to do was sit on the porch swing while nursing on a cup of coffee or tea, sometimes reading a book, other times watching her daughter play with her dad in the backyard, like today. 

Her parents had moved to the East Coast six months ago, as they wanted to spend more time with Marleigh. It made sense that they moved into the cottage on Beca and Chloe’s farm, so Chloe could be around to help her mom out. They had fully renovated the interior, with a fully-equipped kitchen, master bedroom, and cozy living and dining room. Marleigh was thrilled to have her grandparents around. She loved to play games with her grandpa and do farm tasks with her grandma, like feeding the chickens and goats, collecting eggs, or gardening.

“Go fish.” 

Marleigh made a disgruntled noise as she reached for another card. She huffed dramatically when Mike asked her for a card she had. “Grandpaaaa.” 

Chloe looked over her shoulder when she heard approaching footsteps. She smiled at her wife as Beca sat down beside her, and reached over to stroke her growing belly.

Chloe released a content sigh. “Do you ever feel like… pinching yourself? Because this feels too good to be true?” 

“Every morning when I wake up next to you,” Beca said, a teasing lilt to her tone. 

Chloe giggled. “Corny.” She turned her head to look at Beca. “When I was at my worst, I thought my life as it was back then would be it. I thought that I was far too broken to come back from it,” she paused, glancing at Marleigh and her parents and blinking back the tears threatening to blur her vision. “And now I have all this, and sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. I feel incredibly grateful and lucky. More than I can put into words.” 

Chloe had been clean for nearly five years now. She hadn’t touched cocaine or alcohol since her first day of rehab and the cravings were no longer there. She sometimes thought about it on difficult days, but that’s all it was: a thought. It drifted away nearly as soon as it materialized, because Chloe was stronger now, and she knew how to handle the fleeting temptation. 

Beca pressed a kiss to her temple. “You fought for that, Chlo. First by leaving Marco, then going to rehab, and being determined to keep your head above the water through the bad days that followed.” 

Chloe’s free hand slid inside Beca’s. “Thank you for believing in me. For believing that there was still a piece of the Chloe you once knew in there.” 

Beca lifted their hands and pressed a lingering kiss to Chloe’s fingers. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Their peaceful, heartfelt moment was soon over when the tornado that was their four-year-old ran up to them. 

“Mama,” Marleigh said as she settled on Beca’s lap. 

“What’s up, Bean?”

“How did you and Mommy meet?”

Beca hummed. “We went to school together. Mommy forced me into joining this singing group.” 

Chloe gasped. “I didn’t force you, Beca Mitchell.” 

“You burst into my shower,” Beca muttered as Marleigh giggled. 

“While you were naked?!” 

“Yep,” Beca said, widening her eyes at their daughter. “Can you believe that?” 

“Was it love at first sight?” 

“No. It was something deeper than that. For me at least. Something that grew slowly in my heart. So slowly that it took years for me to realize it.” 

“Years??” Marleigh gasped. “That’s a long time.” 

“Yeah. I was an idiot.” 

Chloe giggled. “We were both idiots.” 

“But now you’re together, and that’s what’s important, right?” 

Chloe narrowed her eyes at MJ and reached out to ruffle her red hair. “When did you get so smart?” 

Marleigh shrugged, then dashed off to go back to her grandparents, drawing a chuckle from both Beca and Chloe. Beca glanced at Chloe, squeezing her leg. “You alright?” 

“Mmm.” Chloe rested her head on Beca’s shoulder, her hand finding Beca’s stomach once more in hopes of feeling a kick or two. “More than alright.” 

-fin-

[unpopularly-opinionated]

I don’t play WoW but I used to play Overwatch and Diablo and this touches on just the general issues that are inside of Activision Blizzard right now regarding the major decline of World of Warcraft and how they’re losing to Final Fantasy XIV, how if the latest WoW expansion or Overwatch 2 flop as they’re projected to do then Blizzard’s most definitely going to pivot almost entirely to mobile games, and how the differences in age demographics are actually dividing the company into multiple camps.

It’s important to note two things: 1) this could be fake but also 2) the link came from Grummz, a former team lead on WoW and producer on Diablo II and Starcraft. It still could be fake despite this, but if he’s sharing it then I feel like there’s at least some measure of truth in this.

Transcription below in case this gets deleted and/or you don’t wanna click the link. Warning, it’s fairly long.

“I’m dropping this here after getting chewed out for three hours over shit the chewee did at work so fuck it. Assume larp and let me vent.”

>Shadowlands is a shitshow. Critical response, Player drop off and just about every engagement metric outside of cash shop have been catastrophic. No higher up expected this because of their “we are too big to fail, if we built it they will come” mentality. They refuse to accept their focus on the world being a begrudged mechanic to funnel players to raiding is not appealing to the player base at large because it appeals to them. They have spent the last 4 months trying to course correct but there is no solid direction and the response to 9.1 has only made things worse.

>Sylvanas is planned to replace the Arbiter despite so many people in the company and god knows how many online saying this would be a total replication of Kerrigans storyline in Starcraft 2 that killed none competitive interest in the brand entirely and you can only go “no, no they WILL like it eventually” for so many real world years before its time to change course. Thus far that has not happened.

>The elephant in the room is FFXIV. To the people in charge they are acting like this came out of nowhere and don’t even seem to understand why its drawing players away in their tens of thousands. We have all tried to highlight things it is doing that are clearly appealing to an mmo audience and not, in my opinion, focussing more on mobile game style retention traps to keep MAU users and habit forming personalities logging in. Its not that they don’t care. They just seem so pig headed and digging their heels in with their fingers in their ears thinking all the problems will go away because WoW is “too big to fail”, there will never be real competition and “they will keep coming back”. But they aren’t coming back anymore. Not in the numbers they used to.

>The people making the spending choices know this. The new model for WoW is market the hell out of a expansion pack for a huge quarter then use 6 month lock ins to pad numbers for the quarters after that. Even if corona had not happened 9.1 still would have been dropping after the initial 6 month subs expired to “keep the chain holding”.

>The mood in the company is tense but also very much “its just a rough transition period”. Activision has been pushing hard for Blizzard to release more regular product and to generate more income per user. As far as i know this is going to be a transition over the next 5 years to a much larger mobile/tablet gaming focus. By all accounts not just WoW but Overwatch was intended to be the moneymaker in the interim but once again someone had the bright idea to kill a game casual players loved on the alter of e-sports hoping for another Brood War. From what i hear the “told you so’s” were loud and a lot of people walked beyond Kaplan.

>The sentiment that was shared quietly in private but being spoken more often is simply that the leadership at Blizzard are not bad people, nor incompetent people but people who had to fill seats left when the old guard jumped ship wether they were suited for it or not. Brack is a genuinely good man out of his depth, Ion is a fantastic raid designer put in charge of designing a virtual world he has no interest or real ideas for and so on. They have been taking form the roles they excel at to be put in positions where they get to do far less of that purely because there is nobody left with the experience to do so and the trickle down is a lack of concrete direction, ambition and focus.

>2021 has seen the playerbase, media and gaming at large “turn” on WoW to a degree i don’t think the leads in their “positivity dojo” bubble considered possible. Its gone from people going “This is how Blizz needs to fix WoW!” to “WoW is no longer salvageable, time for greener pastures” and i think on some level this was never considered as a possibility so there have never been any major plans beyond the usual “try and minimise player drop off by arranging releases around competitors launching updates/products”. The official forums being filled with talk of FFXIV and worse “why do we actually pay a sub?” hasn’t helped.

>There have been some testing the waters lately from certain higher ups if we can remove the line “No King Rules Forever”. Read into that what you will.

>There are still arguments going on about the Kael’thas Voice actor shitshow. I don’t know much about it but i know its heated, wouldn’t be the first time a knee jerk reaction only seemed to generate bad press. We lost a noticeable amount of pvp engagement after the Swifty thing.

>The Preach interview was treated as a disaster and there was talk of more strongly vetting interviewers for “bad actors” and only engaging with a list of questions Blizzard provides. Some pointed out that could just be used to create some form of Fireside Chat akin to the FFXIV “Live letters” but that fell on deaf ears.

>The two sentiments right now among the team are either “we really need a win” or “theres a dedicated cabal of internet trolls out to kill WoW”. Right now we are crunching hard to get 9.2 ready to wrap up the jailors storyline so we can get an expansion out early 2022. If that doesn’t happen there are talks of major shakeups coming down from Activision that have been threatened for a few  years now. Its an all hands on deck feeling thats been around to some degree since the “Is this an out of season April Fools Joke” Blizzcon. A make or break deadline is coming closer and things like Diablo 4 were not planned before then. Blizzard needs a significant win not just in initial profit but consumer goodwill. Nobody likes working at what the public now seems to see as “the bad guy” of the mmo industry.

>This has also made new hires decline. Not significantly but the “you WANT Blizzard on your resume” line doesn’t seem to have the appeal it used to. This has lead to more hiring via friend of a friend, to some rumblings about nepotism, and people severely lacking in experience “because they get great twitter optics”.

>On the topic of Twitter we are not being told to “disengage” from it. Multiple employees like Nervig and Holisky publicly attacking paying customers because they got too heated and couldn’t keep quiet is bad press that could have been avoided. A email reminder has gone around more than once lately stating “if you are not customer relations you should not be representing the company to customers, especially if you cannot remain professional”.

>Lastly the biggest elephant in the room is “yo’ boy” Asmongold. The newer hires cannot stand him. They have used terms like “toxic masculinity” and “dogwhistles to dangerous males” while some of the oldest crowd still remaining have called him “based” or “telling it like it is” which has lead to friction to put it mildly. People are told not to talk about him and the recent FFXIV stuff only made it all worse. The idea that an outside element can have such an effect on the product genuinely upsets people. Like Zach is engaging in some malicious act of cyberwarfare. Many of us have point out the now famous quotes by Naoki Yoshida about understanding that players will drift and we need to make something worth coming back to because they want to but some people for lack of a better word see out customers -or “consumers” as they refer to them nowadays- as some kind of antagonistic relationship where the goal is not being an entertainer putting on a show for a crowd but some kind of game hunter trying to trap a large, profitable kill. I wish i could blame Activision but this is a sentiment from more of the younger crowd than the “tech boomers”. Which personal opinion is probably why so many folks like Metzen and Morheim left.

>Before you ask, yes the topic of “wokeness” has shown up in group talks. Its not all some grand sjw conspiracy, people really do want to feel welcome and represented. However the “we need everything veto’ed by people not working on it to see if its inoffensive and bland enough” rubs some of us the wrong way. Like anything in life you can take something too far and lose sight of the core ideals and with everything gone on since Blitzchung it feels like people are forming little factions to pull people in different directions to decide “What Blizzards identity is now” and how to appeal to new players. There has been some drop offs with “go woke go broke” as the only answer in the survey when unsubbing but honestly we are losing subs in unforseen numbers anyway and still making more money than ever through cash shop “heavy users” so it honestly doesn’t make an impact.

>All in all things are rough right now. Blizzard doesn’t have the love of the customers anymore, is no longer treated as an industry giant and while D4,D2R and Immortal aren’t going to kill Diablo even if they fail the sentiment for World of Warcraft and Overwatch 2 are a lot more tense and stressful. The phrase “it might be good to brush up on your mobile development portfolio if we get another underperformer” has been doing the rounds a lot. If Shadowlands continues its stark decline and Overwatch 2 is looking to underperform like its current projections suggest i think the Blizzard of a few years from now will be imitating King a lot more than trying to learn any lessons from Square Enix’s mmo division.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party.  His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo.  If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend.  The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her.  Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment.  Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings.  Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit.  Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room.  Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three.  Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended.  She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this.  “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over.  We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here.  Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.”  He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again.  “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down.  Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes.  “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing?  Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

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

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips.  So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully.  He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over.  “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.”  Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket.  “That…”  He tilts his champagne flute to point.  “…is a canopy.  Or a chuppah, I guess.  Canopee.  Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says.  And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?”  Ax frowns.  And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth.  “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints.  “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed.  Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train.  Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs.  She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand.  Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes.  “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man.  You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night.  Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar?  Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system.  You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over.  “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks.  “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says.  “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him.  He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests.  «By the way, where’s your date?  Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says.  “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet.  You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands.  “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.”  Marco flips his hair back from his face.  “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air.  “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing?  She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says.  “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers.  “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air.  “It’s a free pre-dinner show!  Cow birth.  Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause.  Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that.  Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees.  This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.”  Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground.  “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go.  “You told me not to let it drag on the ground.  If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie.  That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements.  There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle.  The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation.  «Kind of.»

“How…?”  Rachel peers closer at Cassie.  “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed.  “Uh, inside somewhere.  I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!”  Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias.  With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch.  “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.”  Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment.  “I don’t really do heels.  Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh.  Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead?  Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed?  Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly.  “I think it’s a very nice dress.  It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!”  She tucks her hands away.  “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks.  “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

 “Uh.  I’ll try.”  Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep.  So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

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

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots.  The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win.  The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement.  And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline.  He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo.  Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand.  Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand.  “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi.  Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle.  Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.”  Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back.  “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony.  The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today.  We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle.  Marco does his best not to smirk at her.  It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.”  Ax stares around the room.  “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two.  I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California.  Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe.  Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering.  After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over.  They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny.  But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything.  Very Cassie.  Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call.  When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle.  Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go.  That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed.  Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet.  Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet.  That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does.  She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready.  Dance floor is clear of grass.  Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls.  “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup.  Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again.  Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles.  The camera goes off.

“Okay.”  Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception.  “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find.  When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom.  It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie.  They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax.  And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away.  She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly.  They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass.  “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table.  “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him.  At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand.  “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?”  Marco looks around the room, grinning.  “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business.  And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…”  He leans in.  “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line.  ‘You wanna be my best friend?’  So I’m like…”  Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock.  “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger.  You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible?  I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room.  Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?”  Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret.  “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend.  I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…”  He raises his eyebrows.  “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”  

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…”  Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice.  “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter.  Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says.  “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since.  So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question.  She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up.  “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out.  “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing.  So I tell her.”  He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self.  “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause.  Marco glances around the room.  “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other.  Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls.  “It turns into a rock.  Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing.  And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco.  Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco?  Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’  As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.”  Marco takes a sip for strength.  “And right then, I look at Jake.  And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go.  Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you.  So here’s to Jake and Cassie.  Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy.  I love you, Jean!” he calls.  “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.”  Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie.  “I didn’t think we’d get here.  I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures.  Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know?  Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s.  Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.”  Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air.  “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table.  “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.”  Tom stops, directly next to Cassie.  “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be.  So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once.  The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.”  Several people mob Jake at once.  Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance.  Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James.  Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up.  The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them.  Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.”  Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant.  “Okay.  If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.”  Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table.  Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle.  It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.”  Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him.  “What’s wrong?  Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong.  It’s all perfect.”  He’s smiling shyly.  “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says.  “It’s all fine.  Because you made it that way.  So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace.  “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye.  “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs.  “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything.  All of it.  Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie.  She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.”  Ax leans next to him against the bar.  They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others.  Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing.  The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move.  Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder.  He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem.  Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view.  She’s switched partners.  Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body.  Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards.  Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor.  Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down.  They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight.  There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield.  There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor.  Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well.  Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step.  Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her.  When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz.  They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar.  It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him.  She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them.  Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked.  That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop.  Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself.  He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping.  Marco sweeps into a low bow.  Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it.  Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor.  She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness.  But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor.  Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder.  With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand.  «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

[dianaburnwood]

HITMAN 3: First Impressions

This post is full of SPOILERS. Also, it is LONG, so.... yeah. Be prepared lol 

HITMAN 3. Also known as: Diana’s Game. 

Dear GOD I am in love. 

I’m going to do my best to make this coherent. But. I am still freaking out. And I have SO much more to explore!!!! This won’t be very in-depth because I played each map exactly once so far. There’s so much left to see, conversations to overhear, opportunities to exploit - but, I DO have some first impressions, oh hell yes. 

Menu: 

That menu music!!! I was not expecting that at all. It was a mix of choral and classical with previous themes intertwined, and it reminded me of Blood Money. Speaking of Blood Money, this game is Blood Money. 

Dubai: 

Very, very beautiful. Kinda thought Grey made it all about himself lol of course he wanted to say “in your face” to the partners, but it was like 47 was just there to pull the trigger, like he’d not been hurt by them too. But, I really liked it. Trapping them in a room and watching them freak while Grey watched me kill them?? Helloo??? Popping off HARD from the start and I love it.

So - here’s the thing. I don’t get the timing. Diana tells them then that Edwards escaped. Did he escape just before the boys got to Dubai? Or were they unavailable to reach until then? It seems that the message Grey got at the end of HAVEN was after Olivia hacked the HAVEN servers, and then the boys were out of reach so after Diana discovered Edwards was gone, she couldn’t tell them until Dubai? And it was shown to us in a different order to leave us hanging? I dunno. Maybe? It seems weird. 

THE CUTSCENE here omg - once again establishing that 47 and Diana are ride or die. “Diana will make it right, she always does” - BABE. BABE. SWEET BOY. His little face when Grey doesn’t trust Diana. OMGGG.

Dartmoor: 

I went the murder mystery route, of course. I figured it was Emma from her conversation with her husband, but I got all the clues after just to be sure. Can’t believe Carlisle just handed 47 the file on Edwards and then went out alone on the balcony like I wasn’t gonna kill her??? Bitch????? do you forget who i am?????? Anyway, the murder mystery was SO much fun, but I can’t wait to infiltrate this manor in other ways. Lots of Beldingford vibes here.

THE CUTSCENE bdsfgafhlsjfah WAHT????? Ok so HOW did Edwards know where they were? And - ok, so it made for an amazing scene, but Grey is a badass. He is a mercenary genius that duped the ICA and brought Providence to its knees. How did he get himself surrounded in the woods by CICADA? But he did, and it was beautiful, and he literally only shot himself to save 47, and the LOOK in 47′s eyes on his balaclava face - I just bfjKSFasad. I can’t believe he died so early tho. I was very sure he’d die somehow, but SO early. WOW. 

Berlin:

fucking hell. Berlin. fuck. fucckkkk. 

I wanna shout out to Mini (not gonna tag you in case you’re avoiding spoilers) but hot damn girl if you’re reading you were BANG ON about 47 wearing Grey’s coat. I really didn’t think it was his. It was. It is such a beautiful way for 47 to express his emotions about this death without actually saying anything. Omg. It was perfection. I’m crying thinking about it.

BERLIN was where this game really upped its... game. Like WOW. 5 targets, and it’s the ICA. Clearly Edwards went to the ICA board at this stage and was like uhhhh so you need to take these ppl out. HOWEVER I am amazed that the ICA is like “oh, ok”. DO you not remember what happened in SOUTH DAKOTA. 

But going after the ICA is a fucking trip and I love it. I love how 47 says each agent’s name to himself. I love how he listens in and the team handler realises it. I love how she pulls the rest of her team out once you get 5. I love that the ICA agents use disguises too!!! This is truly APEX PREDATOR and I love that they named it that. Y’all think you have the balls to go up against 47??? bitch?????

But the fact that you have to find the targets and none of them are marked is so fantastic. I found 6, but I have no idea how many are actually available - but I’m gonna find out!!! The club is HUGE as well, and lots of throwbacks to Contracts, especially with the biker gang. Amazing. Amazing level. I’m so excited to replay it. 

Also they really addressed the elephant in the room with the ICA agents describing 47 as a caucasian male, bald, average height and ppl being like uh that’s every man here, and then he said yeah but he’s got this big tattoo lmao 

Chongqing

ok this is where I started to think this game was my fanfiction. Inside the ICA? Showing off how truly international it is, and high tech. Hidden in plain sight. Ready to dismantle in 12 hours if needed. SO perfect. This lore builds on Absolution and Blood Money ICA lore in wonderful ways. 

Also, I don’t know why the IOI and DK of the logo looked different in the trailer, they must have been just hard to make out. Cos in the game, the ICA logo is the same as all previous games. 

Also, analysts do client vetting? Intrigue. Always assumed that was part of the handlers’ job. I take it all back Diana, you have never done anything wrong in your life, ever 

I killed Royce by firing the ppl she recommended so she’d get trapped in the data core cleaning. I killed Hush (what a name I love it) as his patient. 

Working with Olivia is really fun. I missed Diana, but Olivia brought a whole fresh perspective. I also really like how neither Grey nor Olivia are as good as Diana - they both fucked up while guiding 47 at least once. 

47 saying “...I will leave you to prepare” to Olivia, I yelled fdagsfa

Also I love how 47 decided to expose the ICA exactly like Diana did in Absolution. Those two. One of a kind. My heart. And his desire to protect her. I love that the files showed their start together. Olivia saying “I can see why you...” and then she stopped herself. We all KNOW what she was gonna say. 

AND AND AND AND 

the cutscene - I screamed

“47 has one weakness. Me.” 

I swear to fucking GOD, IO has seen into my soul. I’ve said all along that Diana is 47′s weakness, and he is hers. But to hear it said, aloud, by my girl? WHAT???!!!!!

Mendoza

Ok. OK. OKKKKKK. OK. I can’t even write about this one. This was where I was pretty sure I was hallucinating the entire level. This is my Diana and 47 dreams come true. This is insane. This is EVERYTHING.

So we have OUR MOMENT IN THE SUN. She puts her HAND on HIS HAND and he looks in fucking wonderment at it. ahugarhiewEG;FEJGHEFlejlhsgfes;gjrsgt. I can’t. I can barely get through writing about this. 

Diana - the dress, the Jolie thigh slit, the jewellery, the hair (they finally fixed her fucking hair), SASS. “I have tango fever” omg. 

How do these ppl not have a pic of 47 by now lol 

I followed Diana and Vidal around cos I was entranced by my girl. Diana was fucking amazing each time. So much sass. Little did I know I interrupted them enough times for Vidal to say “ok son let’s talk”. I saw the tango and I was like omg imagine if I could dance with Diana. 

well.

WELL. 

Anyway, got to kill Vidal via her own setup for me, and that was amazing. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I snuck into the house to kill Yates, and overheard him calling Edwards’ voicemail. Also, it is April 2021?? So, yeah. My previous dates were way wrong lol. 

And then, ALL MY DREAMS CAME TRUE. Diana and 47 fucking dancing the tango? I was pissed that I was in a security guard outfit, next time I play he will be in his tuxedo baby. 

Diana’s comments to 47 when he’s in disguise tho, I was freaking. As security “you look like a true professional. I feel so much safer with you gentlemen around” aaahhhh

UH HE FELL TO THE GROUND COS OF POISON fngjfagfljgnsdfa

I am so glad I was right about my baby girl tho. She even told him “you didn’t have a choice” about her parents. Good. I’m so glad I was right about that. But omg it broke my heart to have 47 so, SO, SOOO sure of Diana all along, defending her to Grey and Olivia, knowing, KNOWING that she was on his side, and then, he eventually started to doubt it. 

I was screaming at my screen - this is BLOOD MONEY! SHe is doing what she did in BLOOD MONEY!!!!

But, for a second, 47 wasn’t sure anymore. And Diana played her part well. 

Carpathian Mountains

Ok, what I love most about Contracts was how it gave us an insight into 47′s psyche, and this game upped that tenfold. Him seeing all his targets surround him? Him imagining Diana and the Constant dancing together? Him imagining her say terrible things about him, things he’s thought about himself deep down, always, omg, but he finally snapped out of it. Ironic that thinking about Grey snapped him out of it, when in life Grey had not trusted Diana. But 47 came to the realisation on his own. Diana would never betray him. 

opening that door and finding out you’re on a fucking train?????? I screamed. 

I am a bit disappointed that it turned out Romania wasn’t significant, they just happened to be passing through. But omg the fact that you are “subject 47″ again. I freaked. This is 47′s worst nightmare. 

I love that you have a free pass to kill everyone in this level. I did it in stealth anyway, cos it felt wonderfully tense to sneak through that train. But wow. This is another BIG risk that IO took. The train was straight out of Uncharted, and crafting a silencer for your pistol??? Hello The Last of Us????? But I don’t care. They used those elements super well. 

I think some people will be angry at this game because parts of it (especially the last level) were a departure from how HITMAN and HITMAN 2 worked. But I love it. I love that they took risks to tell the story they wanted to tell, and those risks paid off. 

47′s undying loyalty to Diana, omg. Telling Edwards bye bitch, I’ll never forget who I am again, and Diana thinks you suck. <3<3<3<3<3

ENDING

OH MY GOD. ONE YEAR LATER????? 47 obviously took some time off cos he fucking needed a break. But he’s back, baby. Ending on “it’s good to be back” was wonderful. The game ended where the 2015 trailer for HITMAN started, and I’m crying. He’s ready to continue with Diana, and not because it’s what he was made to do, not because he doesn’t know what else to do, but finally, because he CHOOSES to do that. 

But one year later? What does that mean? Has Diana rebuilt the ICA like in Blood Money, or will she and 47 work together without anyone else? They’ll need the infrastructure that an organisation like the ICA has though. Diana said she would dismantle Providence from the top down once Edwards was gone, but how? Does that mean dismantling what’s left of the ICA? They were one and the same by the end of the game. All that didn’t just disappear. I’m left with so many questions. 

I was disappointed Diana wasn’t in the cabin when 47 got there. And I wonder why she wasn’t. She knew he was coming, but they are clearly still on good terms. Maybe she wasn’t sure what to expect. But does that mean they hadn’t spoken in a year since??? But she didn’t sound surprised to hear him, and he had coordinates that he was following, so I think they arranged to meet. But her phone was in there when he arrived, and she wasn’t. Maybe he was tracking her phone? Did she come back there to him after????? 

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT 

the game 

ended

with 47

smiling 

And for that I will be forever grateful. 

Ok bye, I need to play it again. RIP work tomorrow lol 

[charlthotte]

Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 15

"Seriously, Takanobu, I don't think I could thank you enough for this, even if it just a flower." I spoke, my voice almost cracking from my tears. That happiness puzzled me, genuinely - and strangely, I greatly accepted it. 

While making direct, honest eye contact with Takanobu - he began to fluster, a highly pigmented blush overcoming his usual delicately ghostly pallor. His mouth opened as if he was trying to say something, but after nothing was mustered - he closed it again. Several times this happened, what he wanted to say was on the top of his tongue, but wouldn't leave.

"Are you alright?" I inquired, taken aback by his disconcertion.

"I... Uh, yeah," Takanobu stumbled, "(Y/N), can I, uh say something?"

"Of course."

He took a deep breath, "So... Ummm, I just want t-to say that... No one h-has e-e-ever been this kind t-to me, so t-thank you." He stuttered relentlessly, but his message got across to me nonetheless.

I broke from our embrace, but Takanobu wasn't smiling, nor crying. Instead his expression seemed serene, almost at peace with himself - his eyes shimmered with the waning sunlight - the last of its rays illuminating them. Wiping my eyes, a breathy laugh echoed from my mouth. "No..." I took a deep breath, "Thank you."

Before long, the air became silent again, silent yet tranquil. "So... Do you want to go back inside?" I proposed, and in a return - I was met with a swift nod from Takanobu - his eyes still sparkling.

A warm gust of wind wrapped around my hand as we entered the inn, as if something had brushed passed it, only to be greeted by the conniving smirk of Futakuchi, "Have fun did we, you two?" It was painfully obvious that he knew everything that had just happened, even if he hadn't noticed the single hydrangea flower in my right hand.

"I did, actually. Thanks for asking." I responded in a sarcastically peppy tone. Waving goodbye to the two of them as I departed for my room, my eyelids beginning to droop from exhaustion. But, before I dropped to sleep, I pressed the single hydrangea flower in between two pages of the book I had brought with me, to preserve it. However, as I lay back down on the futon, I couldn't drift off to slumber - no matter how tired I was.

Tossing and turning for what felt like eternity, I grew to be exasperated, sick of the fact that I couldn't sleep. 

My mind was going into overdrive - previous thoughts and experiences swimming around in my head - specifically what had happened earlier that day. That scene played over and over in my head, I couldn't think of anything else - it was on a constant loop.

After what felt like hours, there was a knock on my door, faint, muffled, almost too quiet to hear. I strained my eyes trying to see what time the clock read. It was midnight. As confused as I was, I stumbled up to the door, almost tripping over something as I did so. When I opened the door, first, I struggled to see who stood at the other side of it. But after my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I could faintly recognise the figure of Takanobu, shivering as he breathed shakily.

"Are you okay?" I asked, whispering - genuinely concerned as to why he was standing there before me at such a preposterous time.

He didn't reply. He took an unsteady breath and shook his head - his head sinking nearly below his shoulders.

"Well... Do you want to talk about it?" I queried, beckoning for him to follow me. 

As I sat back down onto my futon - leaning against the wall - I patted the space next to me for Takanobu to sit there, and he did.

Vaguely, I could sense why he seemed so worried, and I could strongly relate to that, as that trepidation had been in the back of my mind ever since that day at the vet's. "It's Shiro, isn't it?" I whispered, careful not to draw any attention to us.

He hummed in affirmation, holding his head in his hands, one single tear trailing down his cheek.

I didn't know what to say to him. How could I have comforted him in a situation like that one? So, I attempted to calm myself, and tried to offer the best reassurance I could, "So... I know that you and Shiro both love each other loads and I also know that he wouldn't want you to be worried about him, he'd want you to have fun and enjoy your time here."

"But, but what if I don't get to say goodbye?" He mumbled, gazing down at the floor.

"Well..." I hesitated, "Even if you can't say goodbye to him, I'm sure he'll still be with you no matter where you are. But, in the end, all we can do is be optimistic."

"I guess so." Takanobu hiccupped, raising his left hand to wipe his weeping eyes. His whole body softly shaking while he sobbed.

Several minutes passed before either of us spoke again, until I did, in the spur of the moment. "Come here, Takanobu, you need a hug." I whispered, trying to lace the utmost sympathy into my words. Almost immediately, his body collapsed towards me - nearly knocking me over with his imposing frame. But, I did manage, somehow, to brace for its impact - resulting in his head resting flush against my collarbone - the moisture from his tears clinging onto my shirt.

Gently, I placed my hand upon his back, lightly caressing it up and down in a comforting rhythm - holding him in place as he wept into the crook my neck. Neither of us spoke for what seemed like hours, and we didn't need to. We never did.

I must have fallen asleep in that very same position, as later, I awoke, with Takanobu's slumbering form laid against me- having not moved at all from before. No longer was he melancholy, instead he was dozing, dreaming of a world away from reality.

Once again, I strained my eyes, trying to adjust my eyes to the lack of light. When they did - I could barely recognise the time upon the clock, reading 4:17. And so, not wanting our situation to appear as conspicuous to the team, I began shaking Takanobu's shoulders to wake him up. It didn't take long for him to start to stir. Once his eyes were opened, the moonlight hit them perfectly, illuminating them in a picturesque shade of repose, but behind them - was a burning veil of distress and hurt.

As he woke fully, he quickly came into realisation about where he was - swiftly jumping from where he was and began sneaking towards the door, taking caution where he stepped - he couldn't see, after all. But as he departed from my room, I could faintly see the outline of a smile upon his face. Smiling back at him, I waved goodbye to him while he tried to close the door without making the smallest hint of noise.

Directly after he left, I noticed the faint palpitation of my heart inside my chest. And since that feeling wouldn't let me fall back into the depths of slumber any time soon, I decided to lay onto my back, staring at the empty ceiling - wondering why the thrumming of my heart wouldn't calm down.

After my alarm rang, approximately two hours later - I stumbled out of my futon, grabbing my toiletries before I headed for the bathroom. Inside there, the air was peaceful, flowing along with the early morning atmosphere. 

While in the bathroom, I took a warm shower, relaxing as the droplets hit my skin - figuratively washing away my worries as the soapy suds trailed down the drain, refreshing my mind for the rousing day ahead of me. The shower didn't last long, and while drying myself off, I absentmindedly began to hum - feeling happy, a rare occurrence in the early morning.

When I was ready for the day, wearing Date Tech's manager's uniform with my hair bouncing along with my stride as I walked, I stepped out from behind the bathroom door, only to be dragged away by my forearm by Futakuchi.

"So, your highness... A little bird - our lovely little Kousuke to be exact - told me that he heard our good friend Mr. Aone creep back into our room at an ungodly time this morning? Would you happen to know anything about that, I wonder?" He smirked, looking down at me, his eyes twinkling with devilish delight.

"Perhaps." I replied, deadpan, "But, please, get your mind out of the gutter." I shook my arm, trying to release myself from his grip, "Now, please let me go." I said, smiling wryly.

He raised his hands in surrender, letting his grip on me release, "Don't let me stop you." He said cockily, offering me a false sense of defeat.

In succession to that small encounter, I headed down to breakfast with the team. Jolly spirits were held high as a strong sense of moral echoed throughout the atmosphere - many members of the team unable to hinder their excitement - particularly the first years. One of which - the libero, Sakunami, sending suspecting glances to both me and Takanobu as we ate. Trying to pay him no mind, I gazed down at my food, feeling more than a little paranoid.

While on the coach, riding to Fukurodani Academy, I couldn't help but feel a great amount of anticipation towards the upcoming event. However, it didn't have much time to rise as we arrived at the prestigious academy in a rather short amount of time.

The building was huge, decadent and sumptuous, with the school's banners and flags billowing in the wind, displaying all its glory for all to see. From what I could see, the campus was absolutely ginormous, with the highest building seeming to be at least five storeys high. It was almost unreal.

As we departed from the coach, the coach from Fukurodani's team greeted us, offering to show us the way towards the sports hall where our match would be held. We definitely would have gotten lost without his help.

After making several turns and walking for several minutes, we had finally arrived at the gym used for volleyball - where the other team was practicing their spikes and receives. With one team member doing so with a large amount of gusto, a broad beam plastered upon his face. Perhaps, he was the ace that Fukurodani's manager had warned me about.

But before anything else happened, that same person came bounding towards us like an over zealous dog, skidding as he stopped, waving his hands out to us excitedly, "Hey! Hey! Hey!" He called out, bounding up and down, exhilarated. "I'm Bokuto Koutarou! You guys look really cool!" Pausing, he turned to me, "Wow, your hair is so wicked, can I touch it?"

Taken aback, but not wanting to be rude, I answered, "Uhh, sure." Sounding more like I was asking the question myself.

Without any hesitation the guy with the frosted tips, who I now knew as Bokuto, pinched the end of one of my curls, gently pulling it down and then letting it back spring back into place. His eyes sparkled, astounded, "Awhhh, that's amazing! I wish my hair was like that! He beamed, his words pure and filled with sheer wonder at something as trivial as someone's hair.

"Thanks..." I replied sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with him.

However, there was someone who didn't seem exactly happy to witness that encounter between Bokuto and I, that was Takanobu, who now held a stern glare upon his face, and strangely his arm pointed out - directed straight at Bokuto's face - completely singling him out from the rest. And in an instant, Futakuchi was there, trying relentlessly to force Takanobu's arm downward, but all to no avail. That was, until I simply put my hand on top of his arm, which caused him to lower it almost immediately. But why he did that perplexed me, as I had never seen him do such a thing before.

Moniwa seemed to take notice of my confusion, "Don't worry, (L/N). It's just how Aone finds our opposing team's ace. He does it all the time." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly feeling a tad nervous.

But, hardly thirty seconds had passed before everyone started to let the game go underway, with everything needed having been previously set up by Fukurodani's pair of managers. Who, at that point I was sat with, counting the scores. I hadn't bothered to make lengthy conversation with them, we simply introduced ourselves to each other, until, the one I knew as Yukie, sparked up a discussion, "Hey, I think that number seven over there is looking your way."

I jolted, unsuspectedly - but, then giggled bashfully, "I... Uh... He's probably looking at the scoreboard." I replied, hesitantly, while simultaneously choking on my words, feeling seriously awkward. Pausing for a second, I thought of how I could change the subject, letting my eyes scan around the gym for something to talk about. Whilst doing that, they landed on Takanobu - who couldn't have made the situation any more uneasy by looking at me straight in my eyes. Feeling my face's temperature rise, I averted my gaze, for it to fall upon Fukurodani's number seven, who was unabashedly staring right at Yukie. Which I immediately picked up on. "Say, Yukie - isn't your number seven staring at you?" She flushed red straight away.

"Well... Maybe..." She giggled excitedly. Proud that I had successfully changed the subject, I turned my attention back to the game, to where our team's reputation was holding up stupendously.

This fact had most definitely put Bokuto in a despondent mood, as it faltered and perked every minute or so, depending on whoever was leading the set.

During the third set, while the score was 21-17, with Fukurodani leading, Futakuchi had been rotated out of the match - and rather than sit with his teammates, he sauntered up to where I was sat, a slightly smug expression plastered upon his face. "You know, (Y/N), I've never seen Takanobu play like this before, he really is putting his all in today... I wonder why."

"Is that so?" I replied, cocking my eyebrow up at him.

"Why yes it is. And also, about last night - I know the reason..."

"How...?" I questioned, a wave of suspicion flowing over me.

Smirking back to me, he spoke, "Just my intuition." After that, he said something inaudible, right before he was rotated back into the game, perambulating away with a sneaky wave.

Everything else flowed by smoothly after that, until the fifth and final set - where each team had two sets a piece, with the score climbing close to the thirties. This drove each player's motivation higher, despite the fact that nearly everyone was exhausted.

The whole court fell silent as a deafening crack rang through the air, right as Takanobu had deflected perhaps the most powerful spike that I had ever seen. He winced, holding his finger with his other hand, clearly experiencing a bucket load of pain.

Almost instantly, I sprang to my feet, ready to escort Takanobu away from the court, picking up the first aid kit while on the way. 

The game didn't resume, nor did anyone speak a word - except all showing looks of sympathy for the injured player. Even the hyperactive Bokuto had calmed down drastically.

As we happened upon the corridor, away from the silent commotion of the gym, I instructed for Takanobu to sit on a bench, while I kneeled on the floor unzipping the first aid kit. First, I pressed the ice pack upon his rapidly swelling finger that was turning a haughty shade of purple. Takanobu sucked air from between his teach, blenching at the sudden cold temperature.

"Are you okay?" I asked, softly, gazing into his eyes, somehow burning with some sense of intensity that I couldn't define, "Is it bad?"

"It hurts." He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so, his eyebrows furrowing in pain.

"Do you think you can still play?"

Feebly, he nodded - beginning to breathe quickly, I could almost hear his heartbeat.

Taking the bandages out of the kit, I began to gingerly wrap them around his fingers, being careful to not cause him any discomfort. Each time I wrapped it around, my hands grazed his, which made me feel strangely warm on the inside. Gazing up at him, I noticed that he was painted over with a bright red hue, but the logical side of me told me it was simply caused by his exhaustion and pain. However, there was something inside of me that told me it was something else.

"Alright then," I said, "Do your best."

While walking back to the gym, our hands kept brushing against each other, even though we weren't the same height.

He jogged back onto the court, where the game promptly resumed, and in no matter of time, the match had drew to a close, with us losing the set, and with that losing the match. Something told me that it could have gone slightly different if it wasn't for Takanobu's injury. But, he still did try his best, even if that meant overexerting himself.

At that point, the entire team was exhausted as we trundled back to the coach - waving goodbye to Fukurodani's team, with Bokuto bellowing his goodbyes, quite the fireball, he was.

I think that everyone else had fallen asleep within a quarter of an hour of setting off, except for me - even though I was feverishly fatigued. I couldn't sleep. All because the memories of the corridor and the inn flowing through my mind. I had a hunch that that feeling wouldn't leave me for quite some time...

[viking-raider]

Wing-Dog *Fic Request*

Summary: You’ve heard of a Wing-Man? Well, Kal Cavill is a Wing-Dog! You’re hired to watch Kal, while Henry films the second season of The Witcher, and in true Wing-Dog fashion, Kal has plans for you and Henry.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 2,443

Rating: G for Fluff, Kal Fluff, Doggo cuteness 

Inspiration: Request by @romyr4​

Author’s Note: Romyr messaged me this request and it’s been on my mind ever since! Kal is such a special part in Henry’s life, that if Kal took to someone so much, Henry probably would too.

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans​ @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things​, @ohjules​, @mary-ann84​, @omgkatinka​, @hm-fck​, @the-freak-cassie-131​, @heelsamizayn​, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4​, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog​

“Henry, this is y/n.” The producer introduced the pair of you on the set of the new season of the Witcher. “She's the one your agent asked us to hire, to watch Kal while you're filming.” She explained, smiling between the pair of you. “Y/n, this is Henry.”

“Obviously.” You chuckled, extending your hand to the actor. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.” Henry nodded, shaking your hand. “Do you have experience with large breed dogs, like Kal?” He asked, sounding like the protective dog dad he came off as.

“I know a lot about them.” You assured him, nodding back. “I've had large breed dogs all my life, and I am the one that takes care of them at the veterinary and doggy daycare business, I work for.”

“So, you're a Vet as well?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Vet tech,” You corrected him, carefully. “I'm still going to school to become a full blown Vet.” You explained to him. “I have another year of school.” You added, knowing that was probably going to be the next question out of his mouth.

“You are a little dinky, for Kal.” Henry replied, crossing his arms over his chest, but the smile and spark in his eyes told you he was teasing you, making you blush.

“If I can throw down with a fully grown, two hundred pound, male Great Dane, I'm sure I can survive Kal's buck thirty.” You countered, giving Henry a mischievous smirk.

Henry nodded his head, impressed. “We'll see.” He told you, turning. “I'll go get him.”

“How did you throw down with a Great Dane?” the Producer asked, looking at you, surprised.

“I rode it like a horse.” You joked, making them laugh. “No, it's just about knowing how to stop them.” You told her, pulling a treat out of you pocket. “Works, every time.”

“We'll see, cause here comes the Bear.” The producer said, seeing Kal running at the pair of you, full sprint.

“Aww, he's beautiful.” You commented, changing your stance and then held up the treat in your hand, making Kal slide to a halt and sit inches in front of you. “You're an incredibly good sitter too.” You added to him, giving him the treat and a pat on the head. “Good enough for you?” You asked, looking up at Henry, who stood several feet away, shock on his face.

“That's all I need to know.” Henry nodded, closing his mouth. “I do have conditions,” He told you, coming to stand behind Kal. “I want a photo of him every couple of hours, just to make sure he's all right, and a text, if you take him anywhere off the lot.”

“That's fair and very doable.” You nodded, meeting his eyes.

“Great.” Henry felt good leaving Kal with you, while he worked. “This is my phone number.” He swapped numbers with you, and handed you Kal's leash. “I'll text you, when I'm finished working.”

“Aye aye, Witcher.” You giggled as Henry walked away to hair and make-up. “So, Kal, what do you wanna do?” You asked, smiling down at the black and white Bear.

“Kal!” Henry yelled as the Akita took off around his trailer.

“Bear!” You yelled back, as Kal jumped up on you, excitedly.

“I swear, sometimes it seems he's more excited to see you, than he is to see me.” Henry commented, coming around the trailer to greet you.

“He knows who has all the treats.” You laughed, as Kal sniffed at the zipped up treat pouch on your hip. “Good morning, Henry.” You said, finally greeting the Brit.

“Good morning, y/n.” He greeted you back, smiling softly. “I'll let you two do whatever it is, the two of you do all day.” He said, patting Kal on the head and walking off.

“I got something for you.” You said to Kal, after Henry had gone.

You lead Kal over to your trailer, disappearing inside for a moment and came back out with a ball. You'd been taking care of Kal for just over two months, and in that time, he'd destroyed nearly every ball he'd gotten his jaws on. But, after talking to one of the other Vet Techs, you'd found this ball, that was meant to be indestructible. But, you'd find out if it really was, in the next couple of days that Kal had it.

“You ready?” You asked him, grinning to see his eye glued to the solid, red rubber ball, and bark. “See what you got?” You said, and took off running, making him chase after you.

You laid down in the grass panting as your two hour alarm went off. It was you, that was supposed to be getting Kal exercise and tired out, but it was completely the other way around. He nudged at your head with his cold wet nose, drooling on you as his tongue hung out the side of his gaping mouth. You patted the ground next to you, and Kal obediently laid down beside you, rolling onto his back for dramatic affect.

“You're just mocking me now.” You teased him, digging into your pocket for your phone and turning the camera on. “Say Treats for Daddy!” You said, tilting your head towards Kal's and snapped the photo Henry wanted every two hours.

Henry's phone vibrated on his set chair, and he picked it up between takes. Opening his messages, he grinned at the photo you'd just sent him, you looking totally beat, and Kal looking like he was have a blast, and could go a few miles more.

“Who's babysitting who?” Henry texted you back.

“If I'm still alive, when you get off work, then you'll know.” You texted back, and made Henry laugh even more.

Henry had finished filming for the day, and made his way to your trailer, which is normally where he'd find you and Kal at the end of the day.

“I'm sorry, I won't do it again!” Henry heard you yell, from the over side of your trailer, as he raised his hand to knock, then heard you yelp and the thump of you falling down. “Y/n?” He called, moving around to the other side.

“I promised not to do it again!” You laughed, hands holding on to the thick fur of Kal's neck.

Henry stood by the side of your trailer, seeing Kal standing over you and licking at your face as you melted into hysterical laughter. You grunted as Kal dropped his heavy body on top of you, but kept laughing and playfully struggling against the big Bear.

“Mercy!” You howled in laughter. “Just tell me what the ransom is!” You told Kal, letting your arms fall to the sides as he kept licking at your face and drooling all over you. “I'll give you all the treats!” You tried bargaining with him. “I swear! All the treats and no more fake throws!”

Biting into his lip to keep from laughing himself, Henry looked around and saw the small treat bag you usually carried around sitting on the ground, and stooped to pick it up. “Kal.” He called, chuckling as you continued to beg for mercy.

“Oh, thank god, a Witcher!” You laughed even harder, turning your face towards Henry, who was still in costume and wig. “Please, Witcher! Pay this beast, it's ransom!”

“What do I get out of it?” Henry asked, turning on his Geralt voice. “I doubt there's any treats in here, I'd like.” He bounced the bag in his hand. “There's definitely no coin.”

“I'll be at your mercy!” You giggled, moving your head out of the way of another attack by Kal. “Name your price, Witcher!” You stopped struggling with Kal and laid limp beneath him, out of breath from running with Kal, and laughing.

“You let me repay you, for taking care of Kal so well.” Henry told you, using his normal voice again. “Come to dinner with me, tonight.”

“Well,” You panted and motioned to Kal, who just laid on top of you now. “I don't have much of an option, do I?” You said, looking over him over.

“No, you don't.” Henry grinned, taking out his phone and snapping a pic of the two of you.

“You're just living for this, now.” You laughed, smiling at him.

“I really am.” Henry nodded, opening the treat pouch. “Kal, treat?” He called to him, holding out a palm full of them.

Kal perked up at the word treat and his head swung around to him, his nose sniffing at the air between him and Henry. Henry made a noise and Kal shot up and ran for him, colliding into Henry's legs and devoured the treats he had for him. You gasped, filling your burning and deflated lungs with the cool afternoon air, and took the hand Henry extended to you, letting him pull you up onto your feet. You dusted yourself off and looked up at Henry, seeing the smirk still lingering on his lips as he looked down at you.

“Pick you up in an hour?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“I'll be ready.” You blushed.

The three of you parted ways and you took a quick shower and pulled on some decent clothing for a dinner. You opened your trailer door at Henry's knock and smiled at him, relieved he was just as decently dressed as you were, his hair still wet from the shower he'd apparently also took. You followed him to his car and buckled your seat belt as he slid into the driver's seat beside you.

“What was that ball you got Kal?” He asked, looking at you as he started the car. “He's had that thing for a while now, and it's still, more or less, in one piece.”

“One of my fellow Vet Techs suggested it to me, after she asked me why I kept picking up new ones.” You chuckled, brushing your still wet hair behind your ear.

“I'll have to grab some more from you, before filming is done.” Henry smiled, glancing at you. “But, we've got several more months of that.” He added.

“We got the time.” You agreed, looking back at him.

You and Henry had dinner that night, and several more times in the following weeks. Being that you were dog-sitting Kal, and Kal nearly always went with Henry, you got to follow Henry around to the various filming locations for the Witcher; London, Budapest, Austria and the Canary Islands in Spain. It was fun to travel, even better to spend that traveling with Kal and Henry. You and Henry had become close, very close thanks to Kal, he was like the Wing-dog equivalent to a Wing-man. But, you were still paid to take care of Kal, and give Henry updates on the Akita while he was on set working. Henry hadn't heard from you in several hours, and he was an hour's drive from where you and Kal were, at your flat in London. You weren't answering his texts or his phone calls, which made Henry's already cranky day, even crankier. So, when he got off work, he rushed as quickly back to you two as the law would allow.

“Y/n?” He called, opening the door with the key you'd given him, but he received no answer, not from you or Kal. Huffing, he mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time and pushed open your bedroom door, his shoulders relaxed as Kal's head came up and quietly woofed at him.

Kal was on the bed with you, partially covered up with your blankets, you were worried he'd get cold while you took a nap, and with your arm slung over his his body, head resting on his big paw as you slept, curled up against him. Henry's heart melted, all the stress and crankiness he had throughout the day, going with it as he watched you sleep. Kal woofed at Henry a bit louder this time, making you stir, rubbing you cheek against his paw and patting his side to calm him.

“Sorry.” You heard Henry whisper to Kal, getting the hint that he didn't want Henry bothering you, and opened your eyes.

“Henry?” You whispered, sleepily rolling onto your back, as Henry moved out of your room. “What time is it?” You asked his back.

“Just past seven, at night.” Henry replied, turning back towards you.

“Fuck!” You snapped, sitting up. “I never heard my alarm go off, I only wanted to take an nap for an hour.” You said, swiping your phone off the bed stand and seeing the endless string of texts, phone calls and voicemails Henry had left you throughout the afternoon. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You told him, looking at him, shocked and worried.

“It's all right, y/n.” He assured you, smiling softly. “Both Kal and I have been running you rabid the last several months, and I trust you enough with him.” He told you, looking between you and Kal, tilting his head to the side. “I just got a little anxious is all, it's been one of those days.”

“Well,” You shifted over in bed, and patted the open space beside you. “We can fix that.” You smiled at him, and Kal barked in agreement with you.

“I thought you were my dog?” Henry commented, sitting on bed beside you. Kal woofed, walking over you to lay down on your and Henry's legs.

“He's your Wing-dog.” You chuckled, leaning in to kiss Henry on the cheek.

“Best Wing-dog a man could have.” Henry agreed, turning his head to capture your lips with his. “and you're the best woman, I could have. You take such great care of Kal and me, while still managing to go to school.”

“Well, someone has to take care of you two silly boys.” You teased, grinning at him.

“I've got to take you on vacation after you graduate, and I've finished filming the Witcher.” Henry told you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “You've more than earned it.” He said, laying down with you, Kal curling up at your feet.

“All three of us have earned a vacation.” You answered, humming as Henry wrapped his arms around you, burrowing you both into the blankets and mattress.