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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

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Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 11883 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 4 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 4

The next few days continued in a similar vein, with steady rain, but with no lightning storms. Just buckets of rain falling each day. How this was happening and how the storms hadn’t rained themselves out yet, no one really knew. It just rained constantly, and everything was getting flooded and soggy.

Everyone stuck pretty close around the house and to each other until, once again, they were running low on supplies. A trip to town would have to be made, pulling the cart and walking in the rain and mud. No one really wanted to do it, and so they had stretched their supplies to nearly their limit, before even Hawkeye said that there wasn’t going to be much else, she could do with the food they had. Reluctantly, they had made plans to go into town to check on things and replenish their supplies.

Mustang was going to go, of course, because he needed to make some phone calls into Headquarters to report in, and see just what was going on, Havoc was sure. Falman was, as expected, anxious to see if there were any archives in town where he might find more information on Hawkeye’s house. He was certain that there had to be an entrance somewhere, he just had to find it. To no one’s surprise, Breda was going because he said he was going stir crazy being locked up in the house all of the time, and getting out, even if it meant getting wet and muddy all over again, was preferable to staying put when the opportunity to go presented itself. Havoc hoped he still felt that way when he was busy demucking his boots.

The rain had actually slowed down a little bit, and Fuery felt safe enough with that and the lack of thunder and lightning for the past few days, to work on connecting the phone line. He thought about going with everyone else, but this seemed like a better use of his time, and Havoc found he couldn’t argue with that. Havoc’s legs were still hurting him, and he honestly didn’t want to walk all the way into town at the moment, so he volunteered to stay behind with Fuery. Hawkeye frowned at that and decided that it would be a good idea if she stayed behind, if Fuery was going to be up on the roof working, and Havoc was going to be in the house. She could keep an eye on both of them and help out if needed.

The plan was agreed upon, even if Havoc could see that Mustang didn’t exactly look thrilled with leaving Hawkeye behind. After last time, everyone wanted to be more careful, something that everyone could agree with. They had all stayed armed since that day, Havoc making sure he had a backup gun on him too. Hawkeye was, of course, armed the most out of all of them, to no one’s surprise. They were about as safe as they could be. Still, Havoc kept watch on Hawkeye, especially after the other left.

Hawkeye and Fuery got straight to work, Hawkeye showing Fuery the best route to get to the roof and told him of the sturdiest trees if he needed them. Wanting to make himself useful. Havoc went to work in the laundry room, taking care of the clothes that were in there, figuring even if his legs were hurting him, he could still do something. He could hear Hawkeye working on cleaning, apparently still having standards for this old place, although he had no idea why.

For a few hours everything seemed to go well. They all worked on their own thing, Hawkeye going out every so often to check on Fuery. The rain seemed a little lighter than it had been, giving them, all hope that it would ease up soon. Havoc wasn’t sure if the sun he saw was real, or wishful thinking, but he definitely wanted things to dry out so repairs could be made, and they could get out of here.

It was fairly quiet, the light rain pattering, and the radio playing softly when suddenly Havoc heard what sounded like a cry and then the sound of something crashing down. His eyes widened and he rushed out of the laundry room, Hawkeye just a little bit ahead of him. They both bolted out of the door and looked around, until Hawkeye cried out “Fuery!” and started at a dead run, Havoc hot on her heels.

Fuery was laying on the ground, not moving, an arm clearly not laying right. They rushed up to him, Havoc’s heart clenching as he feared the worst. Riza knelt by him, headless of the muddy ground and felt for a pulse.

“He’s alive,” she said, “and he’s breathing. That arm is definitely broken.”

Havoc looked up. The tree above them had a few broken branches and he could see rips from Fuery’s clothes on them. “Looks like he tried to catch himself, or at least slow his fall.”

“It probably saved his life,” she said. “that’s not a small fall.” She was running her hands over him, checking him over. “I don’t think there’s any damage, but we still need to be careful. We need to get him inside out of this rain.”

“Alright,” Havoc said. “Where to?”

“The couch. It’s the closest and I don’t want to risk stairs,” Hawkeye said. “We need to do our best to make sure that his neck and back stay straight. The ironing board. Go get it.”

“Right,” Havoc said, and took of inside after it, returning only moments later with the stiff board in tow.

Following Hawkeye’s directions, they worked together to roll Fuery into the board and get him inside the house and to the couch. The man didn’t stir while they moved him, which was more than a little worrying to Havoc. He headed after the first aid supplies, Hawkeye telling him exactly where they were. Of all the people on the team, she had the best medical skills, and he stood ready to assist. She checked Fuery’s eyes, kept a watch on his pulse, and splinted his arm as best she could. But it was clear to Havoc that she was still worried about him.

“He needs the doctor, but we don’t need to move him.” She looked up at Havoc. “You need to go to town, get the doctor, and get the others.”

“Will you be alright?” he asked, skipping past the part where he protested leaving her alone and she reassured him that she would be alright, and he mentioned that Mustang wouldn’t like it, and she countered with Fuery’s life being on the line. They all knew where that argument would end, and there was no reason to even start it. It was better to just move on to the practical.

“I’m armed,” she said. “I have at least three guns on me at all times, you know that. You’re the fastest of us, and I have the most medical experience. Take Hayate with you as extra protection and go—we have no way of knowing if Fuery has any internal injuries.”

“Right,” Havoc said, serious. He reached to make sure he was armed, called the little dog with him, and headed off like a shot for town.

Havoc had always been the fastest on the team. His long legs helped him out a great deal, and he could take long, lopping strides. He was good at sprints, and he was good at long distance. That had, of course, changed, when Lust had stabbed him through the spine, but ever since regaining the use of his legs, he had been working on building it back again. He had gotten quite a bit better. He wasn’t sure if he could beat Hawkeye right now or not, but what he did know was that she was the best bet to be with Fuery if something went wrong.

So, Havoc ran, headless of the mud, Hayate at his side and his gun in his hand, towards town and the doctor.

He had no idea what the others had found in town, or what he had just left his teammates too.

A soldier running into town, mud all up his uniform, with a dog at his side was sure to gain a few looks, especially when he was clearly heading somewhere with a purpose, but Havoc paid the townspeople no mind. He remembered where the clinic he had seen was, and headed towards it, passing my old Mr. Nelson who tried to wave him down. He ignored him, instead heading straight for the clinic and pretty much bursting in the door. There were a man and a woman in there who looked up at him in surprise. Havoc leaned heavily on the door, soaking wet, muddy, and with an equally wet and even muddier dog by his side.

“Need… your help, Doc…” he said, gasping for breath. He really needed to lay off the cigarettes more. “Man fell… from roof. Unconscious…. The Hawkeye place…”

The doctor wasted no time in grabbing his coat and hat, taking his bag, and telling the nurse to bring the wagon after him, just in case. He was clearly taking his horse, and he wasn’t going to wait on anyone, which was fine by Havoc.

“You can ride back with me,” the nurse said. “We’ll get there quickly. The buggy is made for quick travel.”

He nodded. “Fine by me.” He was still out of breath.

“I’ll go prepare it,” she said, grabbing her own coat and bonnet and heading out the back door.

Havoc stood there, panting, and felt about ready to just sit down where he was, when a hand landed heavy on his shoulder, and he jumped. It was Mustang, which explained why Hayate didn’t make any noise, and he was looking at Havoc with concern and alarm.

“What’s happened?” he said.

“Fuery fell… off the roof, sir.” He said, still panting. “Hawkeye sent me for help.”

Mustang’s eyes widened. “His condition?”

“Unconscious. We got him inside. Arm’s busted.” Havoc said.

Before more could be said, Breda and Falman came hurrying up to them.

“What’s going on?” Breda asked, knowing that something had to have happened for Havoc to be there looking as out of breath and muddy as he was.

“Fuery fell off the roof,” Mustang said. “Hawkeye sent Havoc for help.”

Both Breda and Falman looked alarmed.

“Doc’s on his way…” Havoc said, just starting to regain his breath. “The nurse said we could ride in the wagon with her.”

“You might want to get a horse instead, sir,” Breda said. “Falman discovered something.”

“I looked through the archives that they kept at the library,” Falman explained, “and the archives at city hall. There was an outside cellar door there at one time. Right here, near where the man that the captain hired showed us the strange marks.”

“Wait—” Mustang said. “You mean there might be a way in there? And if whoever it was stole the papers from the file, that means they either want information or are trying to keep it from getting out. And—”

“And Hawkeye’s there, all alone with an injured Fuery.” Havoc finished.

Breda cursed, but Mustang didn’t even waste the time. He headed off towards the livery stable, and Breda rushed after him. Havoc moved to, but stumbled, Falman barely catching him.

“Whoa—you alright, Havoc?” he asked.

Havoc cursed. “I’ve pushed myself too far.” He shook his head. “No, go. I’ll catch up on the wagon.”

Falman shook his head. “We’ll catch up on the wagon,” he said, already hearing it coming around the corner. “And if we need to, we’ll pick up Breda and the General too.”

The nurse let them both climb aboard, as well as Hayate, and headed out of town as quickly as she dared. Breda and Mustang were only a little way in front of them having gotten horses. Breda fell back to ride alongside them for a moment, telling them that Mustang was going to go on ahead of the wagon and try to catch up with the doctor in case something was wrong. Breda was going to do his best to catch up to the General. Falman and Havoc would be the backup that came a little bit behind them. Both men nodded. They understood. Breda asked the nurse, who was still driving the buggy at astonishing speeds, if she was alright with this.

“I’m a nurse,” she snapped back at him. “My job is to save lives, and there’s a life that needs saving there—maybe more than one when this is all over. I’m going.”

Breda nodded, and then sped up, chasing after Mustang.

Although the buggy was going at a good pace, it was still a buggy and it took longer than a horse. Havoc wished he had some way to make it faster, but he didn’t. All he could do was hold on and wait. He rubbed his legs, trying to work any cramps in them out. He was determined to be at his top game, or at least as close as he could be.

When they rolled up to the house, the front door was open, prompting both he and Falman to unholster their guns. The doctor’s horse was tied to a post, but Mustang and Breda’s horses were loose in the yard. Falman jumped down out of the wagon before it came to a stop, and Havoc wasn’t far behind him. “Stay here,” he said to the nurse, “until you’re given the all clear.”

“Right,” she said, keeping a grip on the reigns.

Havoc hurried in the door, not hearing any shots, or shouts, but kept his gun at the ready. When he came inside, though, what he heard was Fuery’s voice. He made his way into the living room where he saw the doctor near a slumped shape on the floor. Mustang and the others were gathered around it, listening.

“I’m sorry, sir…” Fuery was saying. “I tried… he came in here… out of nowhere. He threw something at Hawkeye… it smelled sweet. I think it was a gas or something.” His breath hitched in pain. “She tried to fight, but it got to her… I tried… I tried to stop him… I’m sorry. I couldn’t get any further. I’m sorry!”

“Which way did they go?” Mustang asked, a growl in his voice.

“…out the back…”

Mustang wasted no more time, up and heading out the door.

Havoc followed, calling back. “Falman, tell the nurse to come in here! Stay with them!” he said. He followed right behind Mustang, who had stopped at the backdoor, looking around.

“Where did they go?” he growled out, his eyes scouring the ground.

It took Havoc a moment to realize it, but it had stopped raining, and that would, hopefully, make it easier to track them. If Hawkeye was even a little bit conscious, she would be fighting for all that she was worth. Riza was a fighter, after all.

Hayate nosed at Havoc’s knees, and Havoc got an idea. “Breda—go grab something of Hawk’s. Hurry!” he said.

Breda, who had just come out to join them turned headed straight back into the house, coming out nearly immediately with something from the washroom. Havoc took it and knelt down, holding it out to Hayate. “Hayate—track” he said. “Find her. Find Hawkeye.”

Hayate snapped to attention, sniffed the piece of clothing, and immediately turned to track. Within a second, he had her scent, it seemed. He sniffed around a little more, and then headed off in a particular direction, clearly on the trail of something.

“I hope this works,” Breda muttered.

“It will,” Havoc said, stuffing the pieces of clothing in his pocket. “She’s not been out long, and the rain would have taken care of other scents. Whatever he’s got now, it’s got to be recent.”

“Let’s move!” Mustang snapped out. His gloves were already on, and he was clearly ready to fry whoever it was that took Hawkeye.

Havoc couldn’t really blame him.

As Hayate started hurrying along, Havoc could see signs someone of coming through—and signs of a struggle. Hawkeye, as predicted, clearly wasn’t just giving in. But there wasn’t as much struggle as he expected to see, and that worried him.

It worried him more when they came across a place where they found her guns lying on the ground. Mustang cursed but bent to pick them up. “Hurry,” he said. “We don’t know how far he went or how much of a head start he has on us!”

And we don’t know Hawkeye’s condition. That was the unsaid but prominent thought in all of their heads.

They went through a patch of woods, where the signs of a struggle were easier to see. Hayate moved faster than they did through the underbrush and the bushes, but the three men forged through, trying to make their way through the woods and keep up with the little dog. He was focused in on tracking Riza down, and Havoc couldn’t blame him. He loved her just as much as they did, that was for sure.

Finally, they emerged into a clearing, and almost immediately, Havoc spotted her. She was being half-drug across a field full of grass and marshy-looking land. The man who had her was pulling harshly on her, trying to tug her through the muddy land. Hawkeye was clearly not herself, not doing any actual fighting as much as basic resisting. If she was completely with it, the man clearly wouldn’t have had any chance at all. But he must have drugged her like Fuery said, because she wasn’t fighting to the fullest extent of her ability.

He had one of her arms thrown over his shoulders, and a hand around her waist, gripping her belt. He was trying to pull her along with him, but she was stumbling and throwing them off balance. He hauled on her, trying to get her to come along with him, and she resisted, managing to half wrench free from him. He kept a hold of her arm, but finally fed up, he backhanded her across the face, hard. She dropped, limp, at the same time Mustang roared out her rank.

“Captain!”

Breda cursed beside Havoc, drawing his gun, and Havoc whipped up the rifle he had picked up in the washroom earlier. Surprisingly, Mustang didn’t do anything but tense up. The man—his hood had fallen away now—looked up at them in shock, revealing himself to be the groundskeeper that Riza had hired to look after the place. He ducked down into the grass even as Breda fired off a shot. The grass was tall, and it hid him and Hawkeye both from view.

“Why didn’t you hit him with fire?” Breda asked, all of them tense as they tried to watch for any sign of the man, Johnson, or of Riza. It was too risky to try to shoot at them without knowing if they were going to hit Hawkeye.

“I can’t,” Mustang said. “This area is swampy. There’re gasses under the surface that don’t react well to fire. The rain’s helped to bring them up. They’re in the air, and an explosion would not be a good thing.”

Havoc winced at that. No, that wouldn’t be a good thing. The ground was saturated, and everything was soaked, but an explosion was an explosion, and it wouldn’t be a good thing at all. It could just as easily hurt Hawkeye or come back and hurt them.

“What about some of that Elric-type action?” Breda asked. “Make the ground move or push the ground up or something?”

“Between the water table being too high right now and the trapped gasses, it’s too risky.” Mustang said.

Their options limited, they all fell quiet listening for any sort of clue as to where the two might be. There were small movements in the grass, and Havoc kept an eye on them, looking through the scope of the rifle to try to get a better view.

“Do I have your permission to shoot if I see something?” he asked quietly.

“Granted,” Mustang said just as quietly

They waited, and nothing happened. Just the wind blowing through the wet grasses. Finally, tired of it, Mustang called out. “Johnson! We know you’re there! Come out! Let the captain go!”

There was a little movement, and Havoc shot near it. The grass near it suddenly skittered away and then there was nothing for a few seconds, at least until Johnson suddenly popped up, Riza held tightly to him, a knife at her neck. She only looked partially aware, and all of the men tensed.

“Don’t make another move!” Johnson said. “If you do, I’ll kill her!”

Riza was just with it enough to bring her hands up to his to try to pull them away, but not able to get any strength to them. Through his scope, Havoc had a good look at her face, and he could see the terror in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to shoot Johnson right then and there, but he wasn’t as good a shot as Hawkeye was, and he wasn’t sure he could avoid hitting her, especially if Johnson moved.

“Let her go,” Mustang said, “and surrender. If you do that, this will all go better for you.”

“No,” he said, gritting his teeth. “She’s my ticket into what I need. Or at least, her back is.”

Havoc cursed.

“So, I’m not going to let her go!” Johnson continued.

“Hey—where’s the mutt?” Breda muttered, but Havoc didn’t have time to think about where Hayate was now.

He glanced over at Mustang, who looked both horrified and incensed.

“How does he know that?” Havoc asked, unsettled by this knowledge.

“…He must have heard the story,” Mustang said. “He was in the house then! And none of us realized it.” There was anger and loathing in Mustang’s voice, but it was clear that he was not going to focus on it now. Instead, he kept his eyes fully fixed on Hawkeye and Johnson.

“If you do anything to her,” Mustang called out. “I promise, you’ll get an up-close demonstration of Flame Alchemy.” It was clearly a threat, and one that anyone with any sort of sense would be able to see Mustang was ready to act on. This was no bluff.

Johnson shook his head, already starting to back away. “No. This is what we’ve been looking for! The key! The key to it all—and you’ve had her right by your side this entire time! We knew she had to be connected somehow, considering who her father was, but we never dreamed that she was the key to the whole thing! Just imagine, you had the source of flame alchemy right next to you! And there’s more isn’t there? There’s something more to this that you’re not telling. Not that it matters. With what her back will tell us, we’ll be able to reconstruct everything fully and once we do, the full power of flame alchemy will be ours! And I’ll have brought it. I’ll have brought the key! It will be all because of me!”

The man was clearly cracked, but he was letting out some important information too. “We,” “us,” words like that, that were pluralled. He was part of some sort of group. And it appeared to be a group that was after flame alchemy. Havoc guessed they had been pursing it for a while, trying to find the key to the power and going through Riza to do it. Chances were, he wasn’t someone very high ranking. But this was going to definitely put him on the map, and he was banking on that.

Unfortunately for him, they weren’t going to let him do that. Not only was Mustang ready to take him down, but after seeing Hawkeye’s breakdown and the lengths she had gone to, to ensure that no one was ever a flame alchemist again, at least not by her father’s work, or her own hand, neither Breda nor Havoc were willing to let this happen either.

That was about the time that Havoc realized that there was movement coming up behind Johnson, and he remembered Breda’s comment asking where Hayate was. Hayate was a trained military dog, and highly loyal to Riza. This man was clearly threatening Riza. It seemed that the little dog had decided to take matters into his own hands, or paws as it was.

Or, perhaps more accurately, into his own teeth.

Johnson was still waxing on about how he was going to be praised for bring the key to flame alchemy to whatever this group was when Hayate burst out of the grass, jumping in a high leap straight for the arm that held the knife. His teeth sunk into the man’s arm, and the man screamed in pain. It loosened his grip on Riza just enough for her to manage to slip away, although she did little more than fall that they could see.

Johnson was trying to shake and beat Hayate off of him, and that was when Havoc took his shot. It wasn’t a clean one, but it did manage to get Johnson in the shoulder. He jerked back, and Hayate let go, his growls clearly heard. The three men rushed forward. Johnson, panicked and injured, took off, fleeing the scene.

All of them wanted to pursue, but Riza was their top priority now. They rushed to her location, where she was collapsed in the mud, her face half-buried in it, trying to sit up. Mustang lifted her out of it, brushing the mud away from her face, getting it out of her nose and mouth so she could breathe better, and wiping it away from her eyes. It was mostly covered by the smell of the mud, but the scent of some sort of chloroform or the like could be sensed under it.

“Riza! Riza!” Mustang was holding her now, Breda standing guard over them while Havoc canvased the area to try to make sure that Johnson wasn’t going to pop back up.

“Want us to run him down?” Havoc asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No. I don’t want to send one of you alone, and we need to get Hawkeye back to the house. We’ll have to go after him later.”

“How is she?” Breda asked.

Havoc risked a quick glance back. Her eyes were fuzzy and not focused well, but her gaze was on Mustang, and it hadn’t left. There was deep emotion in her eyes, and it looked to Havoc that a large part of it was fear. No, they couldn’t just leave her here with one of them while two went looking for this guy. He was too dangerous. They needed to make sure that she was protected, especially after everything that he had said, even though that was also a problem.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Let’s get her back to the house, have the doctor check her over, and head into town. We’ll get the sheriff and then go after Johnson.”

“Right,” Breda said. He holstered his gun. “Here. Put her on my back and we’ll get going.”

Carefully Mustang and Breda maneuvered the half-conscious Hawkeye onto Breda’s back while Havoc kept his gun at the ready, covering them. Then, once she was settled and Breda had a good grip on her, they set out back towards the house at as quick a pace as possible. Havoc kept his gun at the ready, and Mustang his gloves, but they didn’t encounter any problems as they traveled.

As they drew closer to the house, Havoc could see a few men gathered around it, most of them armed. Not sure what they’d just come back into, Havoc stood ready with his rifle, just in case, even as Breda and Mustang tensed as well. But one of the men turned and, seeing them, waved at them calling to them.

“Mustang! Do you have Riza?” the man called.

“Thompson?” Mustang said in surprise.

“Yeah. Saw Doc riding out towards this place, and then you and your men after. Figured something was up, so I got some of the men together and we rode out here.” Thompson said.

Mustang had kept moving, so Breda and Havoc had as well, heading straight for the house. Thompson met up with them, opening the door so that Breda could carry Hawkeye inside.

“Good. We’re going to need your help,” Mustang said without preamble

“Whatever we can do,” Thompson said.

Another man directed them towards the living room. “Doc’s in there. She hurt bad?”

“Dunno,” Breda said.

“Up the stairs,” the doctor had appeared. “I’ll look her over in her bedroom.”

Breda headed up the stairs with Hawkeye, but Mustang stopped to talk to Thompson, and Havoc stayed close.

“Do you know Bennett Johnson?” Mustang asked

Thompson nodded. “Yeah. Squirrely guy. New. Doesn’t talk much.”

“He’s been stalking us in this house. He’s gotten some information that he shouldn’t have and found out some personal information about Hawkeye.”

“And that’s why he kidnapped her, got it,” Thompson said.

“We need to stop him,” Mustang said. “He indicated that he was working with someone else. We need to get to him before he can get that information out.”

Thompson was nodding. “We can get some men out to his place. But it didn’t look like you were coming from the direction of his place.”

“Where does he live?” Mustang questioned.

“The old Steadman place,” Thompson said. “It was up for sale, and he took it.”

“The Steadman place is in the opposite direction,” Mustang said. “He must have another place somewhere he uses as well.”

“I’ll send Dave Macken back to town to get the sheriff and some other men. The rest of us will accompany you and your men to see if we can’t track him down,” Thompson said. “John Stitue and Bert Oslow can stay here in case he doubles back.”

Mustang nodded. “Just be warned, we’re pretty sure he had an interest in alchemy and may already be familiar with some forms of it.”

“Gotcha. Let me tell the others.” Thompson said.

He turned to leave, and before Havoc could ask anything of Mustang—or comment on how well Mustang seemed to know the area—Mustang was already moving on to the next order of business.

“Falman!” Mustang called out.

“Sir!” Falman replied.

“Stay here. Hold the fort. Keep an eye on Fuery and Hawkeye. Breda!”

Breda was already coming down the stairs. “Yes sir!” he responded.

“You and Havoc, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir!” both Havoc and Breda responded.

Havoc desperately wanted to know how Fuery was doing, and an update on Hawkeye, but there was no time for that. It was too important for them to find Johnson and stop him. Within minutes they were heading out, Thompson already having instructed the other men. He and a group were ready to head off with all of them, and Havoc welcomed the back up. Mustang took point, Hayate still with them. The little dog was clearly ready to work, and clearly angry that Hawkeye had been wounded. Breda kept giving the dog the side eye, but Hayate only seemed concerned with staying by Mustang’s side.

Mustang didn’t even stop to see who all was there. “This way,” he said, and led the way. Havoc and Breda were right behind him, and the men of the town followed. There were about fifteen all together, and they all headed off in the direction that Johnson had gone: Back across the field, through the patch of forest, and into the other field.

“I forgot how much land the Hawkeyes owned,” Thompson said.

“This is all still the captain’s land?” Breda asked.

“If you mean Riza Hawkeye, then yeah,” Thompson said. “Her family has been here for generations. They were really prominent once, owned most of the stuff around here. But over the years they declined. Most things have fell into ruin, but none of them ever sold any of their land. Looking back at it now, I have no idea why Berthold didn’t sell parts of it. It would have more than kept him and Riza fed and in good money.”

“Because he was a neglectful, abusive man,” Mustang said, “and all of us were too stupid to really realize it until we were grown.”

The men in the group fell silent for a minute, until Thompson finally responded with a “…yeah. I guess that’s true,” and Havoc had to wonder at the backstory there.

They stopped in the middle of the field, right where they had rescued Hawkeye. “He got this far before we managed to catch up with him,” Mustang said. “Any idea where he might have gone?”

The men murmured among themselves, and a few ideas were thrown out, but no one seemed to have any sort of solid ideas. Most of them were discarded fairly quickly, especially considering that a lot of the land around here still was Hawkeye property and there was no one who really knew much about it, as it had been private for years.

“This is useful,” Breda muttered.

“Whatcha gonna do, Boss?” Havoc asked.

Mustang knelt down next to Hayate. “Hayate,” he said. “Attention.”

The little dog barked and stood straight and stiff, still and ready to take a command.

“Track.” He said. “Enemy. Find.”

Hayate gave a bark and began to sniff around.

“Ya sure this is gonna work, Mustang?” one of the men said. “He doesn’t look like a tracking dog.”

“Yeah, and the ground is saturated,” another pointed out.

“Black Hayate is a highly trained and decorated military animal,” Mustang said. “Captain Hawkeye trained him herself, according to military standards, and he passed top of all time. On top of that, he’s extremely loyal, and Johnson hurt Hawkeye, his owner. He’s determined. He’ll find him, if it’s possible.”

Hayate let out a little bark, as if to prove Mustang right, and headed off through the grass. The men followed behind, trailing slowly behind the pup until he seemed to catch something stronger. Then the pup gave another bark, and took off, the men hurrying after him as fast as they could. He seemed to have something hot, at least if Havoc’s experience with tracking dogs meant anything, following it around across the rest of the field, and then through more woods until finally they came to a small clearing where a small cabin stood.

Havoc didn’t like the looks of it. It was ramshackle and didn’t look terribly sturdy, but it was definitely defensible, and that possibility was a problem. Hayate had stopped just before the clearing, and the men all crouched in the bushes there too. Thompson looked at Mustang. “Alright—you’re the military man here. What’s the plan?”

Mustang was looking at the shack. “Havoc,” he said.

“Sir?” Havoc responded.

“Get around to the side. Get in a good position to be able to take him out if he comes out and it’s needed.” Mustang said. He looked at Thompson. “You got any who could do the same from the other side?”

“Yeah,” Thompson nodded. “Ersist, Neason, Ford, Caspian—you guys surround it too.”

Four men nodded.

“You’ve all got a minute to get into place,” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir,” Havoc said, and he headed out, the other men taking off as well. Havoc found himself a good place and got settled in and made sure that he spotted the others so as not to catch them in any crossfire. Then, he waited.

Mustang and Breda stepped forward.

“Bennett Johnson!” Mustang called out. “Come out and surrender peaceably! We know that you’re in there!”

There was a beat and then—

The ground rose up and came straight at Mustang.

Havoc kept his eye on the doorway, but out of the corner of his eye he watched. Mustang didn’t even flinch, he just clapped his hands, knelt, and a wall of his own rose in return, overwhelming and stopping the ground that had just been sent out. He clapped his hands again, and the ground went down.

“You think your second-rate alchemy can stand against mine?” he said. “Don’t kid yourself. Come out before you get yourself killed.”

The door slammed open, and Johnson came out, gun at the ready. Mustang snapped, and the air in front of Johnson exploded, sending him flying back. Havoc moved, Breda moving at the same time, the other men a beat behind them. Breda slammed into Johnson, slamming him into the ground and pinning him to it. Havoc joined in, holding him to the ground. Someone shoved some rope in their faces, and they quickly worked to tie Johnson up. The man was screaming at them the whole time, demanding, insisting that they would fall, and state alchemists would fall the farthest.

“Shut up!” Breda snapped at him, handing him over to the men who pulled him out of the cabin. He looked up at the cabin then and froze. “Boss,” he said. “You wanna get in here.”

Havoc looked up and his jaw dropped. All over were reports and instances of alchemy, with a focus on flame alchemy. Pictures, reports, all sorts of information that he couldn’t begin to understand were all over the walls. All of it was related to Alchemy, that much was clear to see.

Mustang stepped in, looked around and frowned, eyes narrowing. He clearly wasn’t happy about this, and Havoc could understand why. But he didn’t say anything else, not with all of the civilians around. Thompson walked in and looked around, whistling.

“Woah. You weren’t kidding about him,” he said.

Mustang turned abruptly around, clearly blocking Thompsons’s view. Thompson, for his part, didn’t try to see around him, understanding that he wasn’t supposed to see what was there.

“I need something else from you,” Mustang said. “From someone you can trust.”

Thompson nodded. “You need someone to guard this place,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. And we’ll get this guy to the sheriff too.” He put a hand on Mustang’s shoulder. “You wanna get back to Riza, I know.”

“I have lots of responsibilities,” Mustang said. “This is one of them. But if it can be guarded then we can come back and properly look through it. Especially when we’re… less muddy.”

Havoc glanced down at himself, at the mud on his boots, pants, and even shirt, and then looked at the others. They were all covered in mud.

“Right,” Thompson said, looking back up from his own muddy clothes. “That makes sense. I’ll take care of it. Seriously, Roy, go check on her.”

Mustang gave him a nod. “Breda. Can you stay?”

“I’ll secure it,” he said. “You two go on back.”

“I’ll take care of making sure Johnson gets to town,” Havoc said, knowing that it was something else Mustang would be concerned about.

He seemed a bit relieved and nodded. “Alright. When you’re both finished, report back to the house.”

“Right.”

“Got it.”

They left the shack, Havoc stepping over towards the men who had Johnson while Breda started talking to the other men about some items he needed. Havoc watched for a moment as Thompson took a second to talk to the other men, and then he and Mustang both headed back towards the house.

The rest of the men split up, and Havoc walked with the group that was heading towards town with Johnson. It was quite a long walk back from where they were, especially if they wanted to take the paths and roads and not just cut through the land itself, which would make everything more muddy and more difficult. Johnson kept trying to resist and kept talking most of the way. Eventually he stopped both, seemingly growing tired, and apparently figuring out that it would be better for him to shut up rather than to keep talking and give away more information. Havoc was grateful not to hear his crazy rantings anymore, but it was too bad that there wasn’t more intel to easily grab from the guy.

The Sherriff had made his way out to the Hawkeye place by the time Havoc and the other men got to town, but one of his deputies was in. He took official custody of Johnson, locking him in the jail and using the dusty and obviously not often used handcuffs that would keep an alchemist from doing alchemy. Satisfied, Havoc left him there, intending to head back to Hawkeye’s house. His legs were absolutely killing him by this point, though, and so he sat down on some crates for a moment to rub them.

“Hey, son, are you about to make your way back to the Hawkeye place?” a voice called out to him.

Havoc looked up to see Mr. Nelson standing there and gave him a grin. “Yeah, just taking a breather.” He looked at his legs ruefully. “Just an old injury acting up. The past few days have been hard on it.”

Mr. Nelson nodded. “I understand. Well, you’re welcome t’ ride with us. The Misses is insistin’ on takin’ some food over there and checkin’ on everyone. We’re gonna take some supplies, too. I’m sure you’re all runnin’ low.”

Havoc nodded. “I’d be much obliged, sir, to ride with you and your wife.”

“Good. Give us ‘bout ten more minutes. Come inside the store ‘nd have some coffee while you wait.” Mr. Nelson said.

Havoc got up, albeit a bit painfully now that he had sat down and followed Mr. Nelson into the store. He followed his directions back to the home behind it where Mrs. Nelson was in the kitchen, bustling around, packing up dishes. She smiled when she saw Havoc, waved him to a seat, an in a matter of moments had a cup of coffee sitting in front of him before she went back to packing up the food.

“Can I help you?” he asked her.

Mrs. Nelson waved it off. “No, no, dear, you just rest up. I saw you come runnin’ into town earlier, heard the hullabaloo that followed, saw the men running off, saw you come back. You need to rest. Just take a few minutes to rest your body, dear.”

Havoc knew a losing battle when he saw one, and so he acquiesced, watching her make her way about the kitchen. From the looks of it, he would just be in the way if he tried to help anyway. This was a woman who was a master of her kitchen, and to help her without knowledge of how she did things was to just be a hindrance.

They were ready to go within the promised ten minutes, and Havoc rode up with them while Mr. Nelson drove. He filled them in on the barest of details of what happened: How they had discovered that someone was sneaking into the home, how paperwork had gone missing, how Johnson had overheard sensitive information and personal information about Hawkeye, how Fuery had fallen off the roof, how Johnson had kidnapped Hawkeye in what they believed was an attempt to get more information, how they had rescued her and then gone after Johnson, how they had captured him and found his hideout with information in it they needed to go through, and how he helped to bring Johnson to town.

Mrs. Nelson just became more and more determined to look after everyone there as he spoke. Havoc could see it in her eyes. His own mother frequently got the same look in her eyes. Mr. Nelson’s jaw was set, clearly not happy about what had happened, and he had a few strong opinions about it.

When they pulled up to the house, it seemed to Havoc that more people were there. Havoc got down, anxious to check on everyone, but not sure at all what was happening here. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson shooed him on, saying they’d take care of what was in the wagon themselves.

Havoc made his way inside, where Mustang was talking with the Sherriff. Fuery, it seemed, was not in the living room anymore, and Hawkeye wasn’t there either. Falman wasn’t in the room, but Havoc could hear voices from out back that sounded like they were doing some sort of work. Breda was standing near Mustang and the sheriff, obviously back from securing the location. They turned to look at him. As he got closer.

“Havoc, report,” Mustang said.

“Got the prisoner back to the jail. Handed him over to one of the deputies who locked him up. He and a couple of others are going to process him, make sure he doesn’t have anything on him that’s dangerous.” Havoc said. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson are also outside, about to bring some food and supplies in."

Mustang nodded. “Good. Breda’s got the location of the shack secure, and the sheriff has drafted some men to be guards. We’re also got guards around the house Johnson was living in.”

“Falman’s out back with some of the men, digging to see if they can find that entrance,” Breda said. “If they can, it’ll answer a lot of questions.”

Havoc nodded, and then his voice softened. “How are Hawkeye and Fuery?”

Mustang took a breath in and let it out, running a hand through his hair. “The doctor says that Fuery was lucky. It looks like he broke his arm in two places and has a concussion. It’s going to take some time to heal, but overall, he will recover. He wants to get him back to his practice, though, to give him a more thorough look over, just to be sure that there aren’t any problems with his neck and spine.”

Havoc nodded. That made sense. A fall like that could kill a man, easily. If Fuery walked away with only a broken arm and a concussion, then he was getting off easy. Havoc was, understandably, quite worried about Fuery’s back. He knew what it was not to have the use of his legs, and he didn’t want that for the young man. They were fresh out of philosopher’s stones to heal him with.

“As for Hawkeye, she’ll recover as well. She has a nasty bruise from where Johnson hit her face and swelling as well, and some other injuries from resisting. He used a powerful sedative on her, although it didn’t knock her out as much as he wanted it to. She’s going to be groggy from that for a while. She’s mostly got to sleep it off.” Mustang said, and there was a note of relief in his voice. “All in all, it looks like they’re both going to be fine.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” Havoc said, although he knew that it didn’t touch half of what all of them were really concerned about. They had all seen how she had reacted to being in the basement. They all realized the lengths she went to, to keep her tattoo a secret. They all saw how much it had affected her to show it to them. And now a stranger had knowledge of it and had tried to kidnap her for it. That wasn’t going to put her in a good place emotionally or mentally. And, if her father had drugged her before to put on the tattoo, was this drugging in conjunction with getting the tattoos secrets going to leave her with some issues too?

Havoc wouldn’t doubt it.

“Do you mind if I got up to check on them?” he asked. “Or do you need me to do something?’

Mustang shook his head. “No, go on. It’ll be good for them.”

Havoc nodded and headed for the stairs, trying not to hobble up them. He could hear more voices up there, sounding like the doctor and the nurse, and maybe a few others too. Seeing as they seemed to be coming from Hawkeye’s room, he decided to check in on Fuery first and see how he was doing.

The young man was lying in a bed, his head and neck stabilized, and Havoc had an uncomfortable remembrance of that being done to him as well, before they knew for sure what was wrong with him. His eyes were closed, but his face was in pain, and he didn’t seem to be sleeping.

Havoc knocked lightly on the door frame. “Hey, Sarge, you awake?”

“Unfortunately,” came Fuery’s reply, and he opened his eyes to look at Havoc.

“How are you feeling?” Havoc asked him.

“Terrible, thanks,” Fuery replied. “My arm is killing me, my head is pounding, and my back hurts.”

“But you are feeling, right?” Havoc pressed.

Fuery opened his eyes again and focused on Havoc. Understanding dawned in the other man’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “I feel everything. Hands, feet, arms, legs, all of it,” he said. “I definitely feel my broken arm.”

Havoc laughed “I bet you do,” he said, but he knew there was relief in his voice.

“Can you fill me in on what happened?” Fuery said, his voice going a bit soft. “No one will tell me anything—but I think that’s because most of them don’t have the information to tell me.”

“Sure thing, Sarge,” Havoc said, and he pulled up a stool alongside Fuery’s bed.

The younger man was still feeling guilty about not being able to do anything to really help Hawkeye, that much was obvious. He had risked injuring himself further by moving off of the couch to try to help her and stop the man, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it, except point the others in the direction that she had been taken.

Havoc sat there and explained in detail what had gone down to Fuery. He was upset to hear how the man had hit Hawkeye, and the way that she had just gone down. He was, however, quite happy to hear that Hayate had gotten him, and that Havoc had shot the man in the shoulder. He was also glad to hear that Hawkeye was going to make a full recovery although he, like Havoc was clearly worried.

“And… how is she doing, sir?” Fuery asked, his voice soft.

Havoc glanced at the door, and then ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve not been in there to see her yet, but, even as strong as she is, this is going to be hard on her, I’m sure.”

Fuery frowned. “After what we found out and what she told us, I can’t help but be worried. It was like her worst fears coming true.”

Havoc nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I can’t imagine that the drugging helped either.”

Fuery hummed. “Yeah, not when well, what she told us used to happen to her happened.”

Havoc let out a breath. “Something tells me it’ll be best to let the boss handle most of that one, but I think we’re still going to need to stand by her. We’ll need to prove to her that we’re still here too, and that we’ve got her back.”

“Yeah,” Fuery agreed. “I can’t imagine… It had to bring back some trauma.”

“You know it did,” he said. “And she’s carried it deep for a lot longer than we ever knew. Boss holds some guilt about it as well. So that’s where we’ll have to step in, to make sure they’re both not drowned in it.”

Fuery lifted up his good arm and held it out to Havoc. Havoc reached over, clasping it. “We’ll look after them both,” Fuery said. “That’s what a team is for.”

Havoc couldn’t help the determined grin that came over his face. “You know that’s true. That’s what we’re going to do.”

He stayed and chatted with Fuery for just a while longer, talking about what was coming next for Fuery. He knew that he was going to be transported back to the doctor’s office and that he was going to have other tests run on him to be sure that he wasn’t more injured than they realized. Fuery didn’t mind that so much, as he understood and really would rather be safe than sorry. But he also didn’t want to be away from everyone right now, concerned about Hawkeye and the whole situation.

Still, eventually the younger man did grow sleepy, the pain medicine that the doctor had given him trying to take over again. Fuery tried to fight it, but Havoc encouraged him not to. He needed all the rest that he could get, even if it was just his arm and head that were hurt. Fuery finally acquiesced, and Havoc left him falling asleep in that room.

Havoc made his way down the hall towards Hawkeye’s room. He didn’t hear anyone in there, now, and he knew that there was a good chance that she’d be asleep, but he needed to at least look in on her and see that she was whole with his own eyes.

He could still hear noise and talking from downstairs, although nothing sounded urgent yet. He was pretty sure he heard Mrs. Nelson’s voice sending everyone out of the kitchen and fussing about the amount of mud that they were bringing inside the house. Havoc smirked. Well, maybe she could help them clean it—or set the other men to work doing it. Even if she didn’t Havoc would make sure that it was clean for Hawkeye, even if he had to do it himself.

He stopped at her door. It wasn’t completely shut but left ajar. It was enough to be able to give her privacy, but to still allow someone to keep an ear on her, or to hear her if she cried out for anything. He knocked on her door, not too hard, but enough to be heard, and waited. Hopefully, she’d answer.

“Come in.” Her voice was groggy, exhausted, and sounded pained. Havoc didn’t like any of that, even though he expected it.

He pushed open the door, enough to look around it. “Hey, Ri. Up for a visitor?”

“No,” she said, but she beckoned him forward anyway with a slight smile on her lips.

She didn’t look good. She was a pale, except for the side of her face that was already changing colors and looked a bit swollen. There were cuts on it, near her eye, and he could only guess that it came from the hit that she took. That alone was enough to make his blood boil, but there wasn’t much that he could do about it now. He had already shot the guy in the shoulder. Part of him didn’t think it was enough, but that was personal feelings and knowing the whole story.

“How ya feeling?” he said as he came in, sitting himself down on the edge of her bed, although he did it very gingerly. He wasn’t sure how she was feeling, but he also didn’t feel like he could keep standing for long periods of time, at least not without moving.

“Pretty bad,” she said. “My face hurts a lot. I’m sore. I’m… drugged. And…” she hesitated. “…I’m… upset.”

It was clearly an understatement, and he knew it. But neither of them was going to talk about it too openly with so many people here.

“Yeah,” he said. They were quiet for a moment, and then, he stood up, went over to her door and closed it. “Riza…what happened?”

She was quiet for a moment, emotion playing over her face. It was always harder for her to keep her mask up when she was drugged or addled. It wasn’t the first time that she, or any of them, really, had been a bit compromised, but it was still hard to see.

“After you left, Fuery started coming around. I was trying to tend to what I could on him, telling him to stay still when I heard footsteps behind me. He must have spent a lot of time in this house, because he knew how to make his way past the creaky places. Fuery’s eyes widened, and that was when I knew that someone was behind me. I turned around, pulling out my gun as I did, but he threw something at me, a capsule of some kind, and it exploded. I stepped backwards, but the fumes were already on me. Whatever I was, it was fast acting, because I started to feel the effects nearly right away. And Jean,” she paused, meeting his eyes. “Things like that, they don’t affect me quickly or at normal doses. Whatever it was, it would have knocked anyone else out immediately.”

Havoc’s face tightened at that. It wasn’t a good thing, that was for sure, and he didn’t like the implications of it.

“Things are a little hard to put in the right order after that. I felt woozy and off balance. I couldn’t react well or fast. I couldn’t think. I tried to shoot at him, but he knocked the gun out of my hand. It must have landed near Fuery, I think. I heard him calling out as I tried to fight back and failed. The man grabbed me around the arms and pulled me away with him. All I remember was confusion and noise and shouting for a few moments there, and then I was being shoved outside onto the muddy ground. He picked me up, and started pulling me along with him, dragging me by the arm.”

She paused, shifting, trying to make herself more comfortable, but obviously not succeeding. She settled back down again, but she pulled her arm out from under the blankets. “I think he bruised me there too.”

Havoc reached over to her sleeve, and gently pushed it up, looking at her arm. There were traces of a forming bruise there, and he frowned. He didn’t like it, and he knew that Mustang would be furious.

“I managed to regain some of my senses when we were halfway across the field, and I stared trying to resist. He pulled on me harder, pushing me and prodding me along. I made it as hard as I could for him, but I wasn’t able to do much. At one point I ripped off the mask he was wearing and saw that it was Johnson. I think I asked him why, because he started ranting about… things.”

She looked back up at Havoc, and her eyes were scared. It made Havoc’s heart twist inside of his chest to see her look at him like that, and he couldn’t help it. He gave her hand a squeeze.

“I don’t remember all of it, not clearly. But Jean… he knew about my tattoo. He knew about flame alchemy. He said he had seen the tattoo and the burns, and that he would be praised for bringing me back. He saw me as a prize, and clearly wanted to use me to further himself. He said… he said that there were people who would be able to reconstruct the circle.”

Her voice had a shake in it, she was clearly rattled and upset by this, and Havoc found that he couldn’t blame her in the least. This was something important. Even if it wasn’t, just the emotional distress that it brought because it was important to her meant something to him.

“Yeah, he was talking something about how taking you with him was going to be a good thing for him too, when we caught up with you,” Havoc said. “But more on that later. What else happened?”

Hawkeye gave a slight shake of her head. “He just kept pulling me. I tried to go for my guns, but he stripped them off of me, threw them down. I used the woods to resist more, pulling on trees and bushes and whatever else I could to try to slow us down. By the time we got to the field, I was digging in my heels, and he must have gotten tired of it, because I remember him hitting me so hard that I think I blacked out for a moment.”

She let out a breath. “When I came to my senses again, he was pulling me up, a knife at my neck, and all of you were there.”

There was an extra fear in her eyes, and Havoc could understand it. Hawkeye had been extra protective of her neck since the Promised Day, and no one could blame her, really. Having it sliced open and bleeding out to force the man you love to sacrifice himself would be traumatic for anyone, really. Havoc was sure that she was going to be extra guarded for the next little bit.

“I remember you all appearing, and I remember being brought back here, although it’s all rather fuzzy. The doctor was already here, and I think Breda took me upstairs? But after that, I have no idea what happened.” She looked at him, anxiety in her eyes. “What happened to Johnson?”

Havoc could hear the unspoken questions in that one question. What happened to Johnson really meant did anyone else know what he knew, was anyone else listening to him, how many people knew about her tattoo now?

“I managed to shoot him in the shoulder,” Havoc said, “after Hayate surprised him into dropping you. He ran off, and we didn’t know just how dangerous he was, so we came back here. Apparently, our hasty exit from town had caused quite a stir, so there were men from the town already here, to see what was going on. We explained that Johnson had been skulking around the house, gotten his hands on some sensitive information, found out some personal information about you, and had kidnapped you, although we weren’t sure of the ultimate purpose of that.”

Hawkeye had been looking a bit nervous, but she seemed to relax a bit as his words. It seemed that the excuse they and given was good enough for her. She nodded at him to continue. Havoc did, filling her in on how she had gotten back and what was currently going on, as well as Fuery’s condition. At one point, when talking about Hayate, he heard a thump thump thump from the other side of the bed and realized that the little dog was in there, guarding his mistress. That honestly made Havoc feel better about leaving her up here alone.

He finished, and she sighed, still looking anxious about the whole deal. He couldn’t blame her, but it still pulled at his heart. Havoc reached up and gently brushed her bangs away from her face. “Hey, Ri. Listen, no matter what happens, we’re here with you, okay? We’ll do our best to make sure it’s all okay.”

“I know,” she said. “But I still can’t help but worry.” She paused. “It scares me, Jean. It scares me to my bones. It scares me so deeply that I can’t even—”

She paused and took in a shaky breath, not quite able to find the words to continue.

“I can only imagine,” he said, and he leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead. “We’re here for you, though. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

Riza bit her lip but nodded. “Thank you, Havoc,” she said. ‘I really do appreciate it. I’m sure Fuery does too. You’ll keep me updated on what’s going on?” she asked him.

Havoc nodded. “Me, or someone else,” he said “But we’ll make sure to keep you two in the loop as much as we can. Fuery’s gonna be a bit harder, unless he got that phone connected. Though.”

“I heard someone on the roof earlier,” Hawkeye said. “So, you might check and see if someone else managed to get the phone working and hooked up. Someone in town has to be able to do it, after all, and maybe whoever it is came along and took care of it.”

“Yeah, or someone sent for him,” Havoc said. “After all, having a phone would be a great asset to an investigation.”

“Always is,” Hawkeye agreed.

“I’ll check on that, then,” Havoc said, and slowly stood up, wincing as he stretched out his poor, overused legs. They were killing him, and they would only get worse as the day went on. He was lucky that the rain had stopped, though. That would have made all of this unbearable, he was sure. He stretched, and then noticed a little something and reached for it.

On her dresser, that stuffed yellow rabbit was sitting. He picked it up, and then reached over to her, tucking it into bed with her. “There you go,” he said with a grin. “Between this guy and Hayate,” there went the tail thumping again, the little guy clearly paying attention to things, “you’ll be well protected.” He reached down, putting a hand on Hawkeye’s head again. “You need anything? I can bring you something if you do.”

Riza shook her head. “No,” she said. “I think that I just need to sleep this off,” she said. “It’s starting to get to me again.”

“Then rest, Riza. I’ll be back later to check on you, or someone from the team will.” He said, taking his hand back.

She gave a light hum and nodded slightly, and he left the room, leaving the door ajar, as he had found it.

Havoc ambled back over to Fuery’s room before he went downstairs, to check on him and see if he needed anything. The young man, who appeared to be sleeping, was apparently just dozing, because he asked how Hawkeye was doing. Havoc gave him a brief update, both on her physical and emotional state. Concern shone in Fuery’s eyes.

“I should have grabbed her gun and shot him,” he said, lamenting not being able to stop Johnson from taking her. “Or done something. Anything.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Honestly, she’s feeling guilty because she’s afraid you could have hurt yourself worse trying to save her,” Havoc said. “You two are going to worry yourself in circles about each other. You did what you could, alright? No sense in beating yourself up over what could have been.”

Fuery gave a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose.” But Havoc could see in his eyes, that he wasn’t letting go of it just yet, and he couldn’t really blame him. Havoc wouldn’t be able to immediately let go of it either.

“I’m going to check out what’s going on downstairs. You need anything before I go?”’ he asked.

Fuery tried to shake his head, and then stopped, his neck still immobilized. “No, I’m good. The doctor doesn’t want me moving around much, so I’m trying not to eat or drink a lot because I don’t want to deal with the bathroom right now,” He pulled a face, and Havoc laughed.

“Can’t blame you on that one,” he said. “Alright, I’ll check on you later.”

“Keep me updated!” Fuery said.

“Will do—oh. Not that I expect it, but before you fell did you manage to get the phone hooked up?” Havoc asked, remembering just before he walked out the door.

“I was pushed,” Fuery said, “that I remember, and no. I was almost there, but before I could finish connecting the line I had run from the inside, someone, I’m guessing Johnson, pushed me off the roof. I’m just glad it was in the direction of the tree, because I tried to catch myself on it as much as I was able to. The doctor said that probably slowed my fall and helped keep it from getting any worse.” Fuery paused. “As much as I don’t think Johnson would have cared if I had died, I also don’t think he was actively trying to kill me.”

“That actually makes sense,” Havoc said. “If you were dead, I wouldn’t have run to town for the doctor. I’m not sure what we would have done, but Hawkeye and I wouldn’t have split up. But with you injured, someone had to stay here to look after you.”

“Yeah,” Fuery said, and looked a little pale at the thought.

Havoc reached over and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re still with us, Fuery,” he said, wholeheartedly meaning every word.

Fuery gave him a smile back. “Me too, sir.”

Havoc withdrew his hand and moved back towards the door. “Alright. I’ll come back later. Yell or something if you need anything.”

“Will do, sir.” Fuery responded.

Havoc left the room, leaving the door ajar like he had Hawkeye’s. He stood there a minute, taking a breath. He hadn’t had a breather since Fuery fell, or, rather, was pushed, off the roof this morning, and he could use a minute to himself.

It had been a crazy day and it was a lot to process. The day wasn’t even over yet. He still needed to find out what was going on outside, see about the phone, and, at some point, clean Hawkeye’s floors for her. She would not be happy to see the muddy state they were in. It was a silly thing, maybe, but it was something concreate that he felt he could do for her. There was precious little he felt like he could do for her right now anyway. Not with her secret on the line.

And what was going to be done about that? Even if he didn’t tell the townspeople, there was a good chance it would come up in investigations. He was sure that Breda and Mustang both had already thought about this. After all, Breda was their strategist, and Mustang was, well, Mustang. He was always thinking steps ahead of the game, even when he didn’t have all of the information or pieces. Honestly, the biggest screw up that Havoc could remember him taking was when he tried to see if General Raven was on their side and instead exposed their whole team to the council and Bradley, which resulted in them being split up. But to be fair, who could have anticipated that? Havoc didn’t think that anyone could have, so he didn’t really blame Mustang for that one. It was totally and entirely unexpected.

And yet Mustang had still found a way to turn it all around for them—with a little help from Havoc himself. He wished he could have seen the look on Mustang’s face when he heard his voice over the phone that day.

With a soft sight, Havoc pushed himself up from the railing that he was leaning against and turned to amble his way downstairs. There was still work to be done, obviously, and no one was getting to either Fuery or Hawkeye with this many people in the house. Not that they wouldn’t all be keeping an ear out anyway, but still. Besides, he could hear the nurse in the bathroom, clearly running water and preparing something, so they would both be looked after.

#fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #FMA Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate #fan fiction #fanfic

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ranma-rewatch · 4 years ago

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Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

(CONTENT WARNING: This blog post contains discussion of phobias, child abuse, and people doing the worst thing to intensify those problems. Those things are in the show, I didn’t just bring them up out of nowhere.)

Well, it’s that time again. Time to grab a balloon and tell my friends what I think of an episode of Ranma 1/2. We’re starting the first arc of season two with this episode, though oddly enough I feel like I mostly remember what stuff is going to happen in it. But maybe I don’t remember right? I’d love it if that is the case. Though...speaking of that...there is a certain character I have dreaded appearing in this series, and I’d hoped he wouldn’t appear for a while, but I checked and he appears this season. I...I thought I had more time. Oh well, let’s do this episode and I’ll worry about him when he gets here.

Okay, well, for the most part, this episode is actually a lot better than I remember it being. As it turns out, some of the details mutated in my head in the decade since I last saw it, and I actually thought things were worse than they were.

The episode starts in the Kuno manor, where our favorite swordsman is practicing to once again fight Ranma Saotome. But he’s not alone, because for the first time we meet Kuno’s henchman, Sasuke. He’s a ninja, and he’ll do whatever Kuno tells him to do, but he probably won’t do it very well.

From there, we see Ranma’s dad is training him in stupid ways again, and they get back to the house to find Shampoo has mailed Ranma something from China: a pink cat. That’s a problem, because Ranma has a severe cat phobia. It’s not random, either, Genma directly created it. See, when Ranma was 6, Genma thought he should teach his son Cat Fu, which he heard about from an ancient martial arts manuscript. The way to teach it is to cover the disciple in fish sausage and through them into a room with starving cats.

Obviously, that just ended up traumatizing Ranma, and the very next page of the book would have told Genma that training someone that way is very stupid. Kasumi, drawing on the common misunderstandings people have about exposure therapy, thinks that just inviting a ton of cats to be around will help, but of course it doesn’t, it makes Ranma even more distressed. Sasuke is hiding under the floorboards though, and he runs off to tell Kuno about Ranma’s weakness.

At first, Kuno says something about how he could never cowardly use an opponent’s weakness to unfairly win, but then he still makes Sasuke tell him about it, because he can still use it to win in an honorable way. The plan they go for is pretty ridiculous: they leave a note in Ranma’s locker that Akane’s been kidnapped, and he has to go to the gym to save her. But Akane is standing next to Ranma as he reads the note, so he knows that’s not true.

He goes anyway out of curiosity, only to find Sasuke there dressed up as Akane. With the wrong color wig. Even though the trap keeps failing, Ranma walks into it anyway because he has nothing better to do, until he realizes what is going on: cats. But Ranma manages to fight the fear and pretend he’s okay, hoping to just take Akane out of there, but then it becomes clear Sasuke took the extra step of also bringing an enormous tiger.

That’s when we cut back to Genma and Kasumi, and the old man explains that he tried curing Ranma of his phobia, but his way of doing so was to just keep throwing him at hungry cats, only changing the type of food attached to his body. All of it just made the problem worse, but it also actually led to Ranma developing Cat Fu. When Ranma gets scared enough, his mind just let’s go and he mentally becomes a cat.

That happens in the basement of the school, making it easy for him to beat the tiger and escape, just in time to kick Kuno’s butt without even trying. But he doesn’t stop there, and starts running around the school still acting like a cat. Akane follows him just as the dads show up. Genma says the only way to break Ranma out of it when he was a kid was with the help of a kindly old lady, but she’s dead. So, Genma tries dressing up and doing it himself. That fails, so they try catnip, forgetting that Ranma just thinks he’s a cat, so the stuff doesn’t really affect him.

The situation does kind of solve itself, as Ranma doesn’t attack Akane, as she’s afraid of, but instead curls up in her lap to purr. The whole school is watching, so that’s embarrassing for her, but then he kisses her and she freezes for a second before throwing Ranma into the school pool. Oh, and the pink cat is watching and didn’t like that. The curse activating returns his brain to normal, and Ranma has no clue why he was thrown in a pool. Akane walks home, cursing Ranma for doing that, but sounding conflicted.

So, the big thing I misremembered about this episode was I thought Genma did all the cat stuff with 0 thoughts about how it would affect Ranma and not giving a crap how it affected his son. That is actually not the case, he’s clearly really torn up about the phobia, though he still says some bad stuff about Ranma being ‘unmanly’ for having a phobia. He even tried to cure Ranma, a few times. It’s just that, well, his actions still traumatized Ranma. Sufficient ignorance is indistinguishable from malice, as they say. Genma is still, on the whole, abusive to Ranma in my opinion, but he’s not as bad as he could have been, I have to admit.

This was also just a funny episode. The comedy largely worked, even if some of the jokes didn’t quite land. Kuno and Sasuke were especially good, and I found Ranma fighting his fear both humorous and kind of inspiring. The man has a hell of a willpower. Not going to lie, the Cat-Ranma just immediately going for Akane’s lap and then kissing her was cute, I really liked that. Of course, I’m a sucker for anything with them, so I’m an easy mark there.

It’s also interesting how this works as the first part of a large arc, because if you didn’t know that was the case I can imagine thinking this was just a standalone episode. The pink cat was the impetus for the plot, but it’s what will drive the coming episodes forward.

One thing I found annoying was how different the dub and sub were this time around, in terms of script. The dub had a lot more bashing of Ranma for being scared of cats, including from Akane. That isn’t in the subtitled version at all, and I thought the episode worked a lot better there. I’m always a fan of taking liberties with a localization in order to make the story work better in the new country, but I don’t think we needed Akane insulting Ranma for his trauma.

Hey, a Character Spotlight again! Haven’t had one of these in a bit, and this one is for Sasuke Sarugakure. Let’s start with his voice actors. In the English dub, he’s voiced by Robert O. Smith. Does that name sound familiar? It should, I talked about him recently, since he’s the one who voiced Genma Saotome in the dub as well. His voice for Sasuke is extremely comedic, going for an over-the-top pathetic voice. He makes Sasuke just sound like comic relief, which he is. What’s interesting is what the other actor does with him.

In Japanese, he’s played by Shigeru Chiba, another voice actor from this show in Japan who is just known for a billion things. Standouts include Buggy the Clown in One Piece, Emperor Pilaf and Raditz in the Dragon Ball franchise, and dubbing over John de Lancie as Discord in the Japanese dub of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I was completely shocked to hear him play Sasuke with more gravitas, using a very serious voice that one would expect from a ninja, which clashed perfectly with the situations and his character design to make the comedy far better than in the dub. One of those rare times I’m actually preferring the Japanese version!

As a character, Sasuke is interesting because he’s not in the manga at all. For reasons none seem to know, the creative team for the anime decided to delay introducing minor character Hikaru Gosenkugi, and replaced him with Sasuke. We’ll get to Hikaru when he appears, but I don’t really mind Sasuke’s addition to the show. Giving Kuno a henchman just makes his dynamic even better, and there’s something I just really like to Sasuke’s almost naive way of trying to plot and scheme. I don’t actually have any deep analysis, at least not as of yet, just wanted to give him a moment in the Spotlight for being something interesting.

I didn’t expect to like this episode so much! It wasn’t great, there were parts I didn’t care for, but on the whole I’m happy to see my expectations overcome. I’m putting this episode in the middle of the pack, at the #10 slot. It was fun, but it has a lot of better episodes when it comes to making me smile. (Or cry.)

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 19: Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 13: A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 17: I Love You, Ranma! Please Don’t Say Goodbye

Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

Episode 16: Shampoo's Revenge! The Shiatsu Technique That Steals Heart and Soul

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Episode 14: Pelvic Fortune-Telling? Ranma is the No. One Bride in Japan

Episode 18: I Am a Man! Ranma's Going Back to China!?

Next time we’ll continue this tale with "This Ol' Gal's the Leader of the Amazon Tribe!" which, as you might guess from the title, will introduce a new character. This one’s actually from the manga! See you then, y’all.

#episode 20 #You Really Do Hate Cats!#ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #genma saotome #akane tendo #tatewaki kuno #sasuke sarugakure #anime rewatch #anime analysis #cw: phobia #cw: childhood trauma

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nettlestonenell · 4 years ago

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Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

· IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

· Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

· IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

· DOES Gaby have a German accent?

· Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration.

· If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

· How old was Gaby during the war?

· What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

· That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

· Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

· That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

· Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

· Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

· Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

· It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

· Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

· Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

· Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

· You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

o I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

· “He fixed the glitch.”

· Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

· “I left my jacket in there.”

· The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

Someone says “winkle” out.

· Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

· Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

· That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

· Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

· This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

· Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

· Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

· Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

· Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

· Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

· I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

· More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

· A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

· HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

· C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

· Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

· Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

· Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

· “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

· Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

· Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

· CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

#tmfu #tmfu 2015 #ilya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #henry cavill #armie hammer #alicia vikander #the man from uncle 2015 #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#the man from uncle #i don't know what this film's tags are meant to be to keep it from popping up in the TV series searches Sorry

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caydeus · 5 years ago

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rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions. don’t cheat. tag some people - tagged by @njess04 thank you for tagging me!! I had a lot of fun with this (*ˊ꒳ˋ*)

One Piece

Demon Slayer

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Carole & Tuesday

who is your favourite character in 2? Tanjiro is always #1 but I also adore Kyojuro//

who is your least favourite character in 1? Easily the Celestial Dragons 😂

what is your favourite episode of 4? There’s... too many ohman. It’s a show where every episode is one that I absolutely love.

what is your favourite season of 5? Sadly there’s only one season but I love it regardless

who is your favourite couple in 3? I’m not sure if this is for official couples or not but if not I like GioMis a lot for their dynamic and bond (*ˊ꒳ˋ*); if official, Jonathan and Erina for being absolute sweethearts. (I haven’t gotten past part 5 yet to discover more)

who is your favourite couple in 2? SabiGiyuu

what is your favourite episode of 1? Alright, here’s my essay—// The episode where Luffy defeats Arlong, first meetinf Ace, Luffy beating Crocodile by using his own blood, seeing Water 7 for the first time, Robin saying she wanted to live, Luffy using gear 2nd, Luffy pushing the zombie back into the grave, BinKS’ SAKE, seeing Sabaody for the first time, Luffy punching a celestial dragon, Luffy/Law/Kidd team up, Luffy reuniting with Buggy, Luffy reuniting with Bon Clay, Luffy and his crew crashing the Summit, Luffy and Ace’s team up, Crocodile telling them if they’re gonna protect Luffy they better do it right, Law coming in with the save, EVERY ASL EPISODE, the crew reuniting—// (I’m going to stop here because I’m listing too many hhhhh)

what is your favourite episode of 5? Probably episodes 3, 12-14, 16, 22, and 24.

what is your favourite season of 2? There’s only one season so far and I am thriving off of it

how long have you watched 1? Since it was on 4Kids 😂 Luckily I rewatched it when Funimation got it to erase the terrible 4kids censorship/VA

how did you become interested in 3? I didn’t care for it much until I caught my mom watching Part 3 so I joined her. After that we ended up binging Part 1 & 2, before continuing with 3 & 4.

who is your favourite actor in 4? I realized I just listed non-live action shows ahah but I love them so much// Character wise, Edward Elric 4ever

which do you prefer, 1, 2, or 5? Oh no. One Piece always has top spot in my heart but slowly Demon Slayer is climbing up the ladder exceptionally fast 😔🤘Carole & Tuesday is also a heartwarming show to choose from.

which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3? 1 because it has over 900 episodes oof.

if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be? Den. I get to stay home and be fed all day.

would a crossover between 3 and 4 work? The very thought makes me laugh because I can imagine Al’s stand being his suit of armor’s appearance

pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple? Nami and Carina. Even though she’s a film character, I can see a pair of girlfriends out stealing together

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5? Both are good in their own way. Jojo is more action pack and character driven which is something I enjoy while Carole & Tuesday is more casual with a pair of girls who just wants to make music together.

which has better theme music, 2 or 4? 2 absolutely. The soundtrack feel incredibly well executed when introducing new threats, comical scenes or warm hearted moments. Of course, one can never forget Tanjiro’s song playing for the first time with vocals.

#tagged

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

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Forgive me

Part 4- The first ball

A mini series, includes suicide and abuse.

Based on true events but using TRR characters who are owned by Pixelberry.

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @beardedoafdonutwagon

Part 4 is two parts 😞... click the link at the bottom to continue the chapter.

******

Liam looked towards Riley who was mirroring the same expression as he was- shock. He shook his head, thinking his imagination was playing tricks with him. Picking Lucas up, he asked Riley to go for a walk with him. Biting her lip- she agreed, closing the door she scrutinised the room. There was no one there.

Riley pushed the buggy through the halls, every move she made she kept looking over her shoulder- she knew Leo wasn’t some type of poltergeist and that he wouldn’t hurt them but if it really was him she was still shocked- her heart was still pounding.

Liam noticed Riley all shaken up, debating on whether to tell her the words that he heard whispered. Drake had informed him that she had nightmares, of course she would- Leo’s death was traumatic. Walking into the ballroom, he saw her eyes light up like a child in a candy shop.

“What do you think?”

“It’s so elegant. It’s beautiful. No words could describe it.” Her eyes kept widening as she twirled around, Liam laughed- he had been brought up in the palace and didn’t see the attraction.

“The view is beautiful.” Liam was referring to the view of Riley, not the ballroom. Turning around smiling she was oblivious to what his definition of ‘view’ actually was.

“Prin- Lady Riley, would you honour me in this dance?”

“There’s no music.”

“Just take my lead, imagine there was music.”

Riley curtsied, remembering what Leo taught her when he was drunk one night.

******

Leo and Riley and their friends had been clubbing, the girls showing off their infamous slut drops- whilst the men stood frozen not knowing how to dance to the cheesy pop music blasting through the room.

Arriving back at Lola and Daniel’s apartment, the gang stumbled through the door barely able to walk- barely holding their takeaways.

“Come here, I want to show you how to dance like a Princess.” Riley thought he was having some sick joke, until he kissed her hand and bowed to her. He described how she should always curtsy.

“Why? This marriage is fake- I don’t need to know royal protocol Leo. You won’t see me dancing a waltz in New York.”

“For future reference just in case.” He winked as she shook her head.

“For future reference? We don’t dance like this in New York Leo.”

“If I ever take you back home I mean. All the men will be eager to dance with you. Liam especially, he’s shy but he’s very attentive with beautiful ladies and he’s handsome- you couldn’t resist a dance with him. Lord Maxwell’s forte is dancing- he would be able to show you a thing or two. Drake he won’t ask for a dance- not because he’s rude, he’s just never fit in with court life.” Ending the quick dance lesson, Riley enjoyed it. The Waltz was a dance for couples- a way to hold each other close and flirt.

“Well thank you Prince Charming for the dance, but I don’t think I’ll be needing this skill in the future.”

*******

“You’re really good.”

“Don’t look so surprised. I was a ‘Princess’ once upon a time. I learnt from a great teacher- a great drunk teacher.” She laughed. “Talking about Leo....I was wondering if I could swap rooms. It was still a bit raw staying in his old room.” Lying she didn’t want to tell Liam the real reason- she didn’t want him to think she was delusional or crazy.

“Of course. If you need anything Drake will be next door- if you are going to need him for anything- id advise buying some whiskey for bribery though.” Liam was still spooked, and selfishly wanted her to stay next to him- but he knew she would be safe near to Drake.

“Thank you. And thank you for the dance, your highness.”

“No thank you.” He kissed her on the cheek. Her skin was soft, she was amazing in every single way. He felt grateful to have stumbled into her by fate- even if the circumstances of their meeting was a negative one.

*****

After their dance, Riley had asked if she could have some alone time with Lucas, to get used to the palace. Liam left Riley but had asked Bastien to discreetly follow her making sure that she was safe.

Liam had arranged to meet with the royal nanny asking her to be on stand by in case Riley changed her mind about attending the ball that was taking place in a few hours. He knew she would be protective over Lucas, but would arrange for Drake to sneak out every so often to get updates. Drake hated these events and he was Liam’s best friend so would use any excuse to escape.

Meeting up discreetly with some press, he wanted to inform them of Leo’s death- before the gossip spread at the ball. Ana and Donnie were both shocked, usually the two of them would live for gossip- possibly even twist facts. But they respected the two princes and gave their sympathy to Liam. Ana wrote a draft, and asked Liam to proof read it before publishing.

“I’m so sorry again your highness. I do have another question for you though if you don’t mind answering.” Liam nodded, waiting for Ana to elaborate.

“There have been some rumours that you are not having a social season. Can you confirm if this is true- and if so why?”

“I never wanted a social season. I wanted to marry for love not for political reasons. I believe that I would make a successful monarch with or without a Queen. My main priorities before I am King is to support my nephew and his mother.”

“Will we be meeting them? Your nephew is potentially a heir to the throne.” Donnie asked.

“They are here in Cordonia, but it is still raw for her. So I’d appreciate it if we could keep the press away from the two of them. Any questions regarding Leo or them please come to me first.” The two of them nodded, before exiting the room.

*****

Riley was contently walking through the grounds, familiarising herself with the features. Holding Lucas’s hands she was supporting him walking on his own- even if it was breaking her back. “Hi Riley. Hey little buddy, I’m your Uncle Max.” Maxwell ran over to them smiling.

“Hello, Lord Beaumont.” Maxwell kissed her on cheek.

“Just call me Maxwell or Max- I’m not bothered about all those titles. How are you settling in?”

“Oh. Erm. Fine.” Stumbling she didn’t want to confess how crazy she seemed. When she was with Liam she forgot about the pain that constantly stabbed her in the heart.

“Are you going to the ball?” He asked mischievously, knowing that Liam would ask for a dance- he would fall weak at his knees.

“No. I don’t think I am. I think myself and Lucas will have an early night. And I don’t think I can face the King and Queen just yet.”

“You should come. It’s not all about dancing and socialising. Well it is. But I’m fun. And I always rope people into playing drinking games. I can take you to the boutique now, we can turn you into a princess.” He winked, knowing she would think he was referring to her marriage to Prince Leo, but he was actually referring to her becoming Liam’s princess.

“I’m not a princess, it was a fake marriage and if you have forgotten I’m widowed- so I’m just Riley Brooks-Rhys from New York.”

“Come on, I’m taking you to the boutique- just in case you change your mind.”

******

Arriving at the boutique, Maxwell worked his way through the dresses- finding two he knew she would look beautiful in either.

Trying both dresses on, she twirled around infront of the young lord who’s mouth was agape.

“So what do you think?”

“You look beautiful, Riley. And does this mean you are coming?”

“Erm, I suppose I could do. I’m only here for a week tops. I told my manager I had flu, that usually lasts around a week. Rob and his sister are coming in a few days, Drake said they could stay in his cabin- to avoid the King and Queen, then I’ll fly back with them.” Maxwell’s heart sunk, he wondered if Liam knew what her intentions were.

“Well we better make this a night to remember. Choose your dress and you can get ready with me. We will take Lucas to the royal nanny- she’s really good, she will look after him.”

******

Bastien knocked on Liam’s door, his lips curled up hoping Riley and Lucas was with him.

“Where’s Riley and Lucas? I asked you to look out for them!”

“Your highness, Lord Maxwell has taken over my role. She is safe with him. He escorted her to the boutique.”

“Is she coming to the ball?”

“I’d assume so. I believe she wouldn’t have visited the boutique if not.”

Liam was already dressed, looking regal. He had an inkling that Maxwell would have taken her under his wing. Heading to Maxwell’s room, he knocked on the door.

“Hey Li. Come in. Lucas is with the nanny.” Max winked, knowing he was fighting for the best friend award between himself and Drake. Looking in the corner of the room, Liam’s breath caught- he felt as if his heart was skipping a thousand beats.

“Good evening. You look absolutely breathtaking Riley.” Blushing, she knew he looked handsome- she wanted to tell him that but her mouth kept providing nothing every time it opened. Eventually after a long sigh, she managed to get her words out.

“Thank you. You look very regal and handsome Liam.”

“I’ll see you both down there. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Both their eyes widened at Maxwell’s comment- he had no filter. He was like a child who didn’t understand how to keep comments discreet.

“Just ignore him. What changed your mind?”

“Honestly. I don’t know? He’s a persistent one, maybe I felt pressured.”

“Well either way, I’m thrilled. May I escort you to the ball?” Riley nodded, linking her arm in his- he felt content and like the luckiest person escorting the most precious person he had met.

*****

His Royal Highness, Prince Liam of Cordonia. Lady Riley Brooks-Rhys of New York.

Both entering the ballroom, Liam immediately saw his two best friends- Drake rose a glass of whiskey in the air whilst smirking, and Maxwell wolf whistled the two of them. Riley blushed, not realising she was hanging onto Liam’s arm for dear life. Escorting her over to Drake and Maxwell he knew she would need some familiarity whilst he had to mingle with the guests.

“Here’s my little angel. Do you think I did good with choosing her dress Drake?”

“Of course. You look beautiful Riley. Do you want a drink?”

“I need something strong. I’ll join you with the whiskey Drake. Everyone’s looking at me, I need something to blank the paranoia.”

“That’s my kind of girl. Here.” He handed her the whiskey- he was disappointed when she gulped it down in a flash.

“She will be drinking you under the table Drake.” The two of them burst out laughing, before the men started asking questions about Riley’s life.

*****

Liam mingled with nobles not really paying attention to their conversations, his gaze still remained on Riley. Olivia Nevrakis strolled up to Liam, she had always had a crush on him and loved him- she was intrigued as to who the mystery woman was especially after hearing Rhys mentioned when the herald announced her. Kiara, Penelope and Hana followed her- all also intrigued, all also wondering why there was no social season but the events were still taking place.

“Your highness. I’m so sorry to hear about Leo. I wish we all could have been there for him. Who is the woman from New York?”

“Good evening Duchess Olivia. I also wish that. And Riley, is Leo’s wife. Was Leo’s wife. She is visiting with her son, my nephew. They had a typical Cordonian marriage, I’d appreciate it if all you ladies could make her feel welcome.”

They all nodded in unison, still hoping that Liam would elaborate on the new lady.

“So why is there no social season?”

“Because Liv, I simply didn’t want one.” Olivia noticed him gaze over to Riley who was talking to Maxwell, before noticing his father and Regina amble towards them. “I have arranged for a memorial service tomorrow for Leo. You are all welcome to attend. Excuse me.”

*****

“Lady Riley may I have a word in private.” Drake noticed the colour drain from Riley’s face and her body begin to tremble.

“Whatever you need to say your Majesty you can say it in front of myself and Lord Maxwell.” Drake said sternly, the two men stood closer to Riley protecting her.

“I didn’t ask for your input Sir Walker. I’d appreciate a word with my daughter in law in private.” Riley nodded, excusing herself from Maxwell and Drake - explaining for them to stay put and that she would be fine. Constantine escorted her on to the balcony. The cold air, made her more nervous.

“It’s nice to see you in my country. I am sorry for everything I put you and Leo through. I should have just excepted your arrangement. Liam has made me see sense. I was only thinking what was best for Leo. I hope you will forgive me in time.”

Shaking her head she wasn’t sure if he was being sincere, she had heard stories of how brutal he was as a father, his true personality in front of his kingdom was hiding behind a fake smile.

“Leo would still be alive if it wasn’t for that night that you turned up. After that night he received threats from someone from Cordonia. It drove him to do it- he wrote about it in his goodbye letter. I appreciate your apology but it’s too little too late. Lucas has lost his father no matter what sexuality he was- he was loved by everyone. That cheeky grin he always wore became fake towards the end. I feel guilty for not being able to help him- and I will feel that guilt for the rest of my life. I’m only staying for a week, if you are being sincere with your apology you can spend a bit of time with Lucas under my supervision.”

Liam stood at the doors, overhearing Riley defend herself and Leo. Walking over to them, Constantine’s eyes began to be full of sorrow. Liam pulled Riley into his embrace, her body was cold- removing his jacket he placed it over her.

“Your majesty, I am returning Lady Riley to the ball. If she’s only here for a week we need her to feel welcome.”

*****

Returning the ball, Riley was still feeling cold after giving Liam his jacket back- Liam didn’t want to leave her side now. Touching her made her warm up instantly. Asking for a dance, she curtsied as she did earlier in the day. All eyes were on them and she became nervous.

Remember what I taught you, Ri. You look breathtaking. Ignore the haters, you and Liam make the perfect couple.

“Shut up!” Riley snapped, forgetting that everyone was watching the prince dancing with her. Trying to compose herself, Liam cupped her cheeks with concern in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Liam, Leo’s here. He’s whispering to me. I may sound crazy. But...”

She isn’t crazy- well she can be.. but I’m here. Make her your Queen Liam, she deserves the best. I trust you.

“You’re not crazy Riley.” He whispered to her.

Tell her how you feel. This view is beautiful. My best friend and little brother.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Riley asked as he twirled her around effortlessly.

I’m just going to watch this beautiful scene. There’s no social season, so use this opportunity to follow your heart. If not I have a feeling Drake or Max may try and win her heart. They’ve both called her beautiful you know?

“Nothing. You’re beautiful. I had hoped that you would stay longer, but I’m going to spend this next week with just you and Lucas.”

“I’d like that. Thank you for the dance. I’ll go and find Max and Drake, let you mingle.”

A cold breeze passed him, he knew it was Leo now Riley had confessed that he was whispering to her too. He wanted to follow her, but his legs wouldn’t move- he was about to make the first step until Madeleine pulled him to the side.

*****

“You two look cosy. What’s happening with you both? And what did Connie want to talk about?”

“He apologised, I don’t trust him though. And there’s nothing going on Drake. Don’t look at me like that Max, honestly there’s nothing going on.” Riley felt a tap on her shoulder, jumping out of her skin she dropped her glass on the floor- the fizzy residue fizzed all over the floor. There was no one there.

“Jesus Christ Leo!” Drake and Maxwell looked at each other concerned.

“Who do you think you are? Whoopi Goldberg?” Drake tried to calm to her down by having a joke. He didn’t believe in ghosts- he did however believe she was paranoid and imagining things.

“Maybe. I’m going to get some fresh air, excuse me.” Before the two men could react, she swiftly exited the room- not knowing where she was going, she just needed some alone time.

Maxwell and Drake needed to find Liam, scrutinising the room they saw him trapped in a corner by the snake known as Countess Madeleine. They knew she would be trying to dig her claws into him- they now thought she may have been the reason for Leo coming out of the closet.

“Liam we need you now!” Liam looked grateful, and forced Madeleine’s arm off him.

“What is the matter? You are both concerning me.”

“It’s Riley, she jumped, then cursed Leo. Then ran out of the room. She said she needed time alone.” Maxwell said without taking a breath. Liam requested that the two of them stay there and cover for any concern regarding his absence.

Liam had been searching the rooms for Riley, the nanny hadn’t seen her either. The worse scenarios were running through his mind; what exactly did his father say to her? Had somebody else made her feel unwelcome?

******

Riley didn’t know where she was heading, she was following Leo’s echoed voice that was leading her through a maze. It was as if she was in some hypnotic trance. Arriving in the centre, there was a wooden swing, swaying along with the slight breeze. Sitting on the swing, she swung herself slowly- lost in thought. Speaking to herself as if she was insane, she had hoped that Leo would hear her.

Continue here.....

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bookenders · 5 years ago

Text

11/11/11 Tag Game: 16/17/18?

Back again to spill the tea about myself for all you lovely people.Thanks @cataclysmic-writer, @maybeillwriteit and @aurisadventure for the tags!

My answers are under the cut. 😊

Rules: Answer the 11 questions of the person who tagged you, make up 11 questions, then tag 11 people to answer them.

Bilbo Taggins: @brittanyisart, @quilloftheclouds, @brittanyisart, @brynwrites, @creatvrae, @elisabethrosewrites, @elizabethsyson, @ren-c-leyn, @yetmorestories, @pinespittinink, @timefire25

My Questions:

What are your thoughts on throw pillows?

Do you have any podcast recommendations? How about TV shows?

What month would you be on a calendar, and what would the picture be?

What is one book that you absolutely love, no matter what anyone else has to say about it?

What’s your favorite kind of scented candle?

What’s your favorite urban legend?

Would you ever go on an arctic expedition?

What’s the furthest from home you’ve ever been?

What is the best snack?

How purple do you allow your prose to be/get? What’s your purple limit? Is there one?

What’s one word/line/scene/character that you want to put in a story, but you haven’t found the right place for yet?

@cataclysmic-writer‘s questions:

What do you eat or drink while writing? It varies depending on how I’m feelin’. Usually a big giant glass of water. I used to have coffee and/or tea, but it always got cold because I forgot about it. That’s actually how I used to measure my progress, by how cold the drink was. And coffee got me too jazzed to sit still, so I stopped drinking while writing. Good for academic papers, though.

Best piece of advice you ever received? Like... ever? Okay. People are more interested in themselves/absorbed with themselves to really care what you’re doing. Very empowering for someone with real bad social anxiety (like myself heyooo).

Which book inspired you to write the most? I’ve talked about Laurie Halse Anderson’s Wintergirls before, and I’m gonna mention it again. And that I went to a signing for her new book Shout and I got to thank her and my life has been enriched a thousand-fold.

Which author do you try to emulate when you write? Oh, man, I do not do this at all. Okay, well, not at all, because I find it to be a valuable writing exercise to practice with. But I super don’t. I’ve done projects where I’ve emulated Walt Whitman, Philip Levine, Tolkien, Dostoevsky, Poe (eugh), and Anne Valente. Those were super fun. I like imitating styles and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Sometimes I tell myself to put a Gaiman-like twist on a section, though, or describe something like another author if it fits the tone for funsies. But I like writing like me!

Where did you get the idea for your current wip? I’ve already talked about Heart to Heart, so I’ll talk about “Fish Food!” This one happened when I was pondering superheroes, James Bond, tropes, evil monologues, and the like. I had the image of a hero tied up and dangling over a pit of piranhas while the villain detailed his evil plan. But the hero didn’t follow the script. And then, like every one of my short stories, it spun way out of control. I started to think of what heroes would inhabit this world that erupted from the fertile soil of my brain and suddenly I had a big complicated story that I was excited about. And it was funny, which is a change for me.

Do you have a go-to beta reader/writing buddy you bounce ideas off of? I do! One of my goodest friends is a fellow writer and she’s my spaghetti wall if I need assistance. We went through the same creative writing program one year apart and had different teachers, so we offer each other pretty different advice, and it’s great. She’s super into fae lore, too, which is ridiculously helpful for me, a nerd who is writing a light fantasy story with fae in it. We operate in different styles and genres, though, so sometimes idea-bouncing is a little tricky.

Which of your WIPs is your favorite? Of the ones I’m working on right now? Probably “Incarnate.” Partly because it’s closer to my usual writing fare, partly because it’s weird and disturbing in my favorite ways, partly because the ending is really cool and surprising in a way that hits you long after you finish it. I also like it because it’s hard for me to write. Yay, challenges!

Tea, coffee, or soda? Tea for chillin’, coffee for workin’, soda for pizza times.

If you could have any fantasy creature as a pet, which would you have? A brownie to clean my house, or a domovoi to act as a weird home security system would be neat. For non-practical purposes, I’d also say a pegasus. I can ride pretty well and it’d be so convenient to just fly everywhere on my awesome horse buddy.

Do you like creepy/scary movies? NOPE. I am a big chicken shit when it comes to spooky things. As a kid, I was terrified of E.T. That’s how bad it was.

What genre do you have yet to write in, but want to write soon? Hm. Maybe historical fiction? I already play with it a little bit without actually going into the history part of it too deeply. Maybe I’ll give it a shot in the future. I’ve always wanted to give magical realism a good try, though. It’s always been hard for me to write.

________________________________________

@aurisadventure‘s questions:

1. Who is your favorite oc? Why?

Right now, it’s Lithium from “Fish Food.” She’s just so fun. I also just figured out a big part of Jill’s character that I’m excited to add to H2H!

2. What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not writing?

I got into cooking a while ago, and that’s pretty fun. I do yoga sometimes. I read a bunch. I also like putting things together. Honestly, I’m a big giant nerd who likes learning in their spare time.

3. What is your least favoured genre?

Hard sci-fi is really hard for me to get into. And some contemporary stuff, but it’s not as bad as hard sci-fi.

4. Top three favorite video games? (Any console)

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (with Awakening DLC, obvs) (except for the goddamn Mage Circle Fade part I hate it and it deserves to burn in hell)

Ori and the Blind Forest (I’m stuck on the last stupid fire volcano level and I’m so mad because it’s hard but this game is beautiful)

To The Moon (so many tears, such good story)

Honorable mention to Assassin’s Creed 2.

(I love RPGs.)

5. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for inspiration?

Hm. I don’t really go out and seek inspiration like this. I just consume a whole lot of art in varying mediums.

I went to a poetry slam one time. Does that count?

6. Buggy or Cart?

Horses, buggy. Oxen, cart. As much as I’d like to be Gandalf...

7. Have you finished any of your wips?

I am so goddamn close to finishing “When Your Song is Over and Done” I can taste it. I’m hoping to write that last stupid scene this week. It’s been the one WIP that’s been kicking my ass lately. How rude.

I’m a short story writer, so I finish a lot of my WIPs. It’s kinda nice. That’s also why longer projects scare me.

8. But like… can I read it?

😉

In the meantime, you can read these!

9. What is your favorite animal? Why?

Highland Cows! Just look at them.

I’m sure I have a more interesting answer for this, but honestly, cows are all I can think of. I love cows.

10. Name one place you want to visit more than anything.

Norway! Not sure why. Seems like a really cool place to be.

(I lied I love space and want to go to the observatories.)

11. What is your most cherished childhood memory?

Saturday mornings curled up in my grandfather’s armchair watching TV and eating Burger King before we go visit the animals at the farm.

________________________________________

@maybeillwriteit‘s questions:

1. Which oc would you most like to go for a drink with?

I don’t drink, but I think Treena would be an excellent conversation partner.

2. Where do you like to write? Bed? Desk? Cafe? etc etc

I have a desk in my room. Not that I usually write at it. I’m good anywhere I can sit up straight and rest my arms.

3. Which of your ocs do you think people are most likely to make fanart for?

Eventually, I hope Mel. I love her character design. Or the superheroes and villains from “Fish Food.” They all have really distinct appearances and cool costumes/uniforms.

4. Favourite piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Probably the time my mentor also admitted he hated writing dialogue, but that sometimes you just gotta.

5. Which place in your stories would you like to live? (i’ve read this sentence ten times and i ain’t convinced it’s grammatically correct lol)

(maybe: In which place/where in your stories would you most like to live? I dunno this one’s freaking my brain.)

Linsay would be the best place to live, I think. A very chill small town that has everything you need, very supportive soon-to-be friends, an apothecary on stand-by, and lovely weather. Its residents are fiercely protective and are very willing to look the other way where the law is concerned if it helps someone.

6. Do any authors/books influence your writing? Which ones?

Oh, tons. Jim Butcher, Laurie Halse Anderson, George Saunders, Anne Valente, Tolkien, Gaiman, Matt Bell, Aimee Bender, and a whole bunch more authors. And, if you wanna get all heartfelt about it, every single book I’ve read has influenced my writing, whether it’s learning how to do something, learning how not to do something, or finding a new technique that jives with my style.

7. Pick one song that represents your wip.

I’ve done a bunch of song stuff with H2H, so this is for “Fish Food:”

Honestly, my first instinct is “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” from Next to Normal. But it’s not quite right.

I also wanna say “Super Friends” from Holy Musical B@man.

But in my heart, I know the true answer is “Under Pressure.” How could it not be?

8. Favourite thing about being a writer?

The feels! I love writing things and getting my own feels out, then making other people feel things. It’s so satisfying.

9. Characters or plot, what came first?

Characters! Oh my God, always characters. And before characters, concept and theme(s). Sometimes a scene just pops into my head and I have to figure out who these people are and why they’re there.

10. Do you like writing prompts?

I do indeedy. They’re pretty helpful when I’m stuck. I only write for the ones that instantly spark an idea in my brain, though. All the ones I’m getting for my 800 followers celebration are insanely good.

11. Part of your wip that you’re most excited to write?

Oh, man! So many!

H2H: The climax! Well, one of them. The one of the magic incidents and Mel and Gemma’s relationship, to be specific.

Fish Food: When my main two dudes meet Lithium! And figure out what’s going on with her. Or anything about Lithium’s real life. Her story is wild.

WYSiOaD: The goddamn rooftop scene that’s been kicking my ass for a month. It’s gonna be so emotional and poignant and great and I can’t wait for it to be over.

#writeblr #amwriting #about me #tag game #writer tag #11/11/11 tag game #my process #my writing process #tunes

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rpgmgames · 7 years ago

Photo

March’s Featured Game: Ceress and Orea

DEVELOPER(S): plueschkatzeart ENGINE: RPGMaker MV GENRE: Puzzle, Adventure SUMMARY: Ceress is sentenced to death, because she's in love with the 'wrong' person. But stubborn as she is, she calls out to an old deity, demanding a chance to change this unrighteousness.

Can Ceress overcome death to be reunited with the woman she loves, Orea?

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *Hi everyone! My name is Plueschkatze, which might be hard to say for anyone that’s not used to German, so feel free to call me Plue!

I started using RPGM in 2016, but I’ve been into game development since 2013. Last year I published two games and both have been products of teamwork for game jams. They are ‘The Beast Named Eliza’ and ‘Dear Edwin’.

What is your project about? What inspired you to create your game initially? *Plueschkatze: Ceress and Orea is about love. It’s a short game (about an hour) that follows Ceress, who is overcoming death to be reunited with her Love, Orea. It’s an adventure game, inspired by many of the amazing modern adventures/walking sims. You’ll traverse a cave system, which is basically a spirit realm. And yes, it’s about the love of two young women. Love itself is such a bittersweet experience, because it can mean happiness and pain all at once. I hope you can sense some of that bittersweetness within this game, but I wanted Ceress and Orea to be mainly a somewhat relaxing experience, that helps people to escape their stressful day for an hour. It has also given me the opportunity to grow as a game dev and tell one of the many, many stories that are in my head.

How long have you been working on your project? *Plueschkatze: I created the RPGM project folder in November 2017, and I’ve been developing CaO full time since January 2018. So I’d say CaO has been in development for about 4 months now.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Plueschkatze: Yes. Games like, Life is Strange, To the Moon, Telltale’s the Walking Dead, and many other modern adventure games and walking sims influenced what I want from games. They are the main reason I don’t have a combat system in my game, because it’s only telling a story. It’s more like taking a walk, than heavily action packed gameplay. Even titles like, The Last of Us, Fragile Dreams - Farewell to the Moon, Zelda Twilight Princess, and Breath of the Wild had an influence, at least to an extent, and the beauty of abandoned and overgrown places inspired a few of the maps. Though I wouldn’t compare CaO directly to any of these named games.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *Plueschkatze: Oh, yes. There have been many smaller challenges. From buggy plugins, to not being sure how to effectively show and tell what I want the player to experience. And also being limited on time and money. I’m a freelance artist and am currently living from savings. I’m hoping that CaO will sell well enough that I can keep making games afterwards. The future will show~!

Regarding bugs… I contacted the creators of the plugins and all of them have been very nice people and fixed them for me! If you provide them enough information to quickly get an idea what they need to fix, the chance is pretty good they’ll do it within a short time. This community is great, and most people are very willing to help each other.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Plueschkatze: It hasn’t changed THAT much. A few ideas for the backstory changed, especially for one of the characters. But overall it’s been a pretty straight forward process.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don't have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Plueschkatze: I’m solo developing on this project. While I enjoy teamwork with like-minded people, I also very much enjoy working alone. But I’m sharing my progress with a few friends, which is a joy. Having people around me that share the same passion (game dev) really has a huge impact on my productivity!

What is the best part of developing the game? *Plueschkatze: Normally it’s world-building, but CaO doesn’t have much of that, because it’s such a short project. And as an artist, it’s of course the art part. ;3

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Plueschkatze: I don’t have much time to play games. So I usually only play the games I really, really, really badly wanna experience by myself. The last one was actually Zelda Breath of the Wild, and I avoided footage of some that I’d love to play in the future (like Nier: Automata and The Last Guardian). But I tend to watch let’s plays and streams while I’m working. I also follow a lot of devs on twitter and check forums to see what other RM and indie devs are working on. I see myself less as a ‘RPGM Dev’, and more as a general indie dev, because I wouldn’t mind switching to another engine, though I really, really love how kind hearted this community is. The engine is also really easy to use.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Plueschkatze: The deity is my favorite, since they are fun to write. But I feel very connected to both Ceress and Orea, I love both girls.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Plueschkatze: Because I’m not done (the last 20%!), I can’t tell yet. So far I’ve really enjoyed this journey and you’ll ALWAYS have parts that you could improve. Nothing will ever be perfect. At least not to everyone. The biggest challenge is to know when to stop and call it done. Many devs get way too lost in their process.

Once you finish your project, do you plan to explore the game's universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Plueschkatze: I don’t have plans for a sequel (or prequel), but one never knows.

What do you look most forward to upon/after release? *Plueschkatze: This is my first commercial release. It’s also my first game that will be on steam. I’m really looking forward to that experience and to learn from it, so it will be better the next time! I’m also SUPER curious how people will react and if they’ll enjoy the game. Thinking about it makes me really nervous, ha ha ha!

Is there something you're afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Plueschkatze: I’m afraid of rude comments. Ugh. But who isn’t, right? I’m also afraid of being unable to keep making games, because I enjoy it so, so, so much. But I have to pay my bills, so more freelance work means less game dev time for my own projects.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Plueschkatze: If you’re serious about gamedev, try to learn. Do not only watch RPGM tutorials, but also some about character development, world-building, documentations about the era you’re game is set in, etc. etc. Also, network with other game devs that are in a similar position as you and that are like-minded. Sharing knowledge will help you improve and grow a lot! Also share your progress. Good feedback will not only help you improve your game, but also encourage you to stay motivated and to actually WORK on your game.

Question from last month's featured dev @lonestargame: What's the most ambitious thing you've tried to do with the engine? *Plueschkatze: Uff. I think there’s nothing overly ambitious/complex within my current project, so this is a tough one for me! Ha ha.

We mods would like to thank Plueschkatze for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Ceress and Orea if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpg maker #rpgmaker #rpgmaker game #Pixel Games #gotm #indie games #ceress and orea #plueschkatze #game of the month #march #2018 #march 2018 #pixel #games

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seashelbytravel · 5 years ago

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Khao Sok National Park & Father’s Day

Date of post: June 19, 2019

Location of post: Chiang Mai, Thailand

Date of venture: June 14-16, 2019

Location of venture: Khao Sok National Park, Surat Thani, Thailand

From Krabi, we took a bus to the village right outside of the enterance the Khao Sok National Park.

One of the oldest remaining parts of the natural rainforest, dating back hundreds of millions of years. Preserved by a terrible small pox outbreak that killed 80% of the village population in the 1940’s, and then protected by a rouge group of communists during the 70’s who practiced geurilla warfare tactics warding off colonialism.

We didn’t know where we were going to stay so we hopped in that back bed of a locals truck and headed into town center.

We were dropped at the Green Mountain guest house, where we ate the best food we’ve experienced in Thailand yet. We’ve hit close to 8 towns before arriving here.

John asked to meet the chef and, our waitress got a look on her face, I think she assumed we were going to complain. We told her that her cooking was the best we’ve had yet. We told her about all of the towns we’d dined in before hers. She was so happy, but more surprised that we wanted so badly to tell her how wonderful her crafted cooking was. And it was artiful.

I love Tom Yum Goong. It’s my favorite dish I’ve had here, but I’m making it a point to eat something different as much as I can. And that’s been a pretty easy feat. So. Much. Delicious. Food. And I LOVE the Thai spice. It’s not debilitating and all encompassing like in Texas. Although, don’t get me wrong, I love our TexMex. Thai spice has so many other flavors that compliment the fire you’re eating.

We ended up staying at the guesthouse where the restraraunt resided. Our room was very nice and tucked away. When we first arrived, I walked up to the super sweet pupper of the guesthouse. I said “Hi baby” and without looking, his tail started thumping.

His name was “Coffee” and he looked like a little adorable hybrid dog bear. So sweet. When we left, John threw him some chicken. He slept outside of our room the two nights we stayed.

We scheduled our “jungle trek”. Two days, one night on Cheow Lan Lake. Sleeping on floating bungalo’s in the middle of the lake.

The next morning the van picked us up, and we immediately met a couple from Colorado. They were my age, and traveling for two weeks. Julie and Joe. Easy to remember all the “J’s”. I thought we were going to be alone, and honestly I was glad to meet other people our age.

We picked up two 18-something British couples who were only a few days into their trip, and obviously processing that they weren’t in Kansas anymore.

We picked up one more French couple, and they became our travel buddies after we emerged from the jungle. Emma and Jordan. Not “Jor-Dan”. Say it with the French accent and the name sounds so much more beautiful beacause, duh. French vs. English in terms of diction, French will always be the more beautiful of the languages, in my opioln.

Okay. We took an hour long, long boat ride to our bungalows. John and I sat in the front. About halfway through the boat ride, we noticed a heavy mist setting in, blurring our sight. Not mist. Rain. You like pina coladas? I do. And getting caught in the rain? I definitely do. We were soaked in 30 seconds. I loved it.

We got to our bungalow and had lunch prepared by the family who lived and hosted these tours with our companions. Then, jungle hike time.

Okay. I wore leggings, a white t, and my trail shoes. We pulled up the the trail on longboat and the first thing we see is a sign that read “DANGER Trail Closed”.

Okiiiiiiii... trusting. Trust is paramount here.

We started anyway. So beautiful. The air smelled healthy. Like it was hosting millions of happy flora. And it was. We hiked for 30 min before our guide stopped us for a “leech check”. Now, I imagine leeches as the big fat black buggies we see in the movies. Nope. The suckers (haha) looks like desperate little earth worms, sprouting out of the ground, clinging to the first bit of your they could. I didn’t have any! Yay! Neither did John. We kept going.

We got to a part in our hike where I guided turned to us and said “Okay, very steep. We climb like monkeys”. Cool. We both (Johnny and I) have our own natural rock climbing experiences (it’s been a while for me, but it really is like riding a bike and my confidence came back quickly) but I was worried about our fellow hikers. Especially the young British ones. Said a quick lil prayer that no one would be harmed. Glad I did because we were literally climbing what John and I think to be a 5.4 on the climbing scale. A legitimate climb. But no one was hurt, not even a scrape (I think). John and I headed the group right behind our guide. Mind you, this man was climbing in FLIP FLOPS. His confidence gave my own a boost. John watched where the guide placed his feet, and I John, and so on. We would call down the line when something was extra slippery or more tough than normal. We were all responsible for each other’s. That’s a uniting feeling.

We finally reached the top. It’s the 6th picture in this post. John was on a perch and looked down to a 200 ft drop. Straight down. He is terrified of free heights and there he was. I was very proud of him. But, his face changed when he realized where he was sitting. We look to our right, and the biggest rainbow took form. Y’all. If you don’t believe in God, spend some time in nature. I’m a very faithful person. I love God more than anything. God has shown itself to me in the most divine ways. This rainbow being one instance, amoung a plethora of divinity. It wasn’t there when we reached the top. But felt like a “You made it!” gift.

Ok, LEECH CHECK. Guess what. I had those sons of beaches all under the tounge of my shoe. Just, enjoying my blood. I was so skeeved out. I don’t have many specific fears. Grasshoppers and crickets gross me out, but I’m no baby when it comes to bugs. These really freaked me out. We all had them. They are sneaky. And pulling them off actually hurts, and you bleed a lot more than if you let them do their business and fall off. Our guides called them “vampires”.

From the mountain, we went to a smaller waterfall (not pictured) and our guide went first to make sure it was safe. He gave the thumbs up and all the guys got up to explore. I thought “uh, I didn’t come to Thailand to sit in a boat” so Julie (our American friend) and I both followed. I stood under that waterfall and it washed away all of the sweat from the jungle. Julie and I both. The guys returned to the boat and Julie and I finally headed back. You ever hear of quick sand? Ha. I was wading in the water back to the boat when all of a sudden, my left leg sank down so fast, all the way up to my hip. But, my right was on firm ground. For real, thank God because I feel like that could’ve been a very bad situation. I’m so proud of my body and its ability. Thankful for it. Grateful to it.

We went back and swam in the lake. We drank rum with our new friends and ate dinner that was caught in the lake. We stayed up late playing “Rummi”. Mom and I used to play it all the time, and it felt like another sign that we were right where we were supposed to be.

Back to the mainland. Our new friends Emma and Jordan, from France, hadn’t decided on a place to stay, so we suggested ours. They booked a room, and it was right next to ours. Yay! We decided to hike more of the park together. I love Emma and Jordan.

You know, with all the bad politics happening everywhere, we are all the same. Emma and I spoke openly about the political turmoil in France and America. We are the same. Emma and me, and France and America. Don’t judge. Just read and absorb.

My fearless sweet heart. We found the waterfall! The big one. We all waded and swam past currents. I probably wouldn’t have been so adventurous in getting to them (and I’m not sure Jordan or Emma wolves been, but they were adventurous in those own lovely way) if my monkey man wasn’t jumping into random pools, jumping from rock to rock. I was a good jumper too, and so were Emma and Jordan! I felt confident. Our waterfall is pictured below.

I love Emma and Jordan. And I cherish our time together. Too short. That’s the crux of traveling. You meet wonderful (again, that word doesn’t even come close to fully encompassing how I feel about the people we meet) people who become in stand “best friends”. And then you have to say “goodbye”. That’s the hardest part.

Walking back from the national park, Emma and I walked together and John and Jordan ahead.

After our honest conversation about politics in the place we love and call home, the conversation turned to family. Emma’s parents run a farm in France, and she helps them. She’s also an occupational therapist for the mantally ill. At a psychiatric hospital. Amazing. She’s 24. I told her about how my mom lived across the country, and when I told her it would take me 3 days to drive (if I sped) or $300 round trip to fly, and that I got to see her once a year, if I was lucky, she was shocked.

I told her I had no brothers or sisters, and inevitably the dad question was answered. She lovingly (without my saying) validated how lonley I must feel. That loneliness. Errrgg. I keep packed down. For lots of reasons. I’ve been shamed for it, inadvertently, and truthfully, sometimes people don’t know how to precieve it. And sometimes, I have such a bleeding heart about it that the last thing I want to do is make someone uncomfortable. And I definitely never want to be a “Debby Downer”. But we were speaking truthfully about our home situations. She was empathetic, kind, and so loving. I told her about my own trip and my father’s own travels. She said “it sounds like a sign to me”. And we exchanged French and English meanings for “goosebumps”. I love her for that conversation. And for many other connections we shared.

We walked the rest of the way home together. Then we had dinner and drinks on our shared porch.

She wrote in my journal and I’ll remember her forever. Hopefully, I’ll get out to northern France for a visit one day.

I didn’t mention I pulled 5 more microscopic leeches off of myself over the next 12 hours. 4, I found in the shower AFTER John, Emma, Jordan and I finished our own trek and... the nasty one. It had lodged itself in my leg. And I found it while still on the bungalows. Our guide poured alcohol on it and popped it out like a pimple. Gross. You’re welcome for that visual.

Not poisoness and I’m not dead so, yay.

Father’s Day was the best I’ve had since my dad died. He is my greatest guide, and will continue to be until I meet him again in heaven.

He was the greatest. Ever. I’m so lucky he created 50% of me. And I’m so much more like him than I ever thought I’d be. I posted about the significance of my trip and him on Facebook and Instagram. I never felt like crying. That’s new to me and I’m totally into it. Grieving, in the sorrowful way, is draining and I never let myself experience otherwise. But this felt like a gift.

This was long. Thank you for reading.

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jandjsalmon · 8 years ago

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11 Questions Game

Holy Hannah! I spent my holiday weekend at the symphony (Final Fantasy: Distant Lands - SO GOOD!), playing on the lake for the first boat trip of the season, and paintballing my little heart out and generally hanging out with my irlbgf - and yet while I was away, I was tagged by some of my favourite, absolutely amazing wonderful lovely fellow Buggies in the fun

I promise I wasn’t ignoring you! I love you all and I would like to answer all five of you - so that's 55 questions instead of just 11. That means that I DEFINITELY have to put it under a cut because it will eat up your dashboard and maybe some of you aren't all that interested in my answers. lol.

BUT if you're interested at all in my answers and who I am, I hope you'll click. :)

From the awesome and ever talented and wonderful @believe-that-you-can-my-friend 💙💛

1. What’s your favourite piece of clothing you own?

I have a pair of black velour pajama pants. It is my most favourite things in the world. They feel like velvet.

2. What fictional place would you most like to go?

The Starship Enterprise. The Future and the Federation seems like a pretty groovy society to live in.

3. What’s the best way to start the day?

With overnight updates to all your favourite Bughead fics that you MUST read and review before getting into the shower.

4. What TV show or movie do you refuse to watch?

I'm not into Fifty Shades of Gray. I mean - I have no problem with BDSM - I simply have a problem with bad writing.

5. What are you most looking forward to in the next 10 years?

My kids are growing up! Within the next ten years all three of my kids will be gone/leaving for college. I'll be an empty nester with my super dreamy hubby.

6. What city would you most like to live in?

I love where I live - Calgary is the best - but other than just saying "here" - I guess I'd choose London.

7. What movie title best describes your life?

It's a Wonderful Life.

8. What irrational fear do you have?

Clowns. I hate them. My husband tells me that it's an irrational fear all the time - but it doesn't FEEL irrational.

9. In your group of friends, what role do you play?

I'm generally the centre of attention. In real life, I want people to be comfortable and as engaged as I am - so I talk a lot and ask lots of questions so that they'll feel more comfortable sharing as well. People like me - oftentimes more than I like them. In fandom life I'm kinda like that too - but I like to play the roll of the cheerleader and support and over excited and passionate fangirl. In general, I like being /nice/ and I get something out of people loving me as much as I adore them.

10. What are you most insecure about?

Um... the same physical insecurities that most people have. I guess that I'll be so over-the-top that people will think I'm fake or that I'm silly.

11. What are you most likely to become famous for?

I'm technically writing a novel... that will probably never be published. But I guess that's the only ever way I'd be famous.

From the freaking fabulous @gellbellshead 💙💛

1. What is your favourite food?

Potatoes. Whether it's mashed, soup, fries (poutine!), or whatever. I love potatoes of all sorts. YUM.

2. What is your favourite movie genre and your favourite movie from that genre?

Um. I like lots of different kinds of films but I guess I like Sci Fi the most. My favourite Sci Fi is probably Serenity. But I actually have a list of five favourite ALL TIME movies of various genres: Stardust, Schindler's List, Serenity, EuroTrip, and French Kiss.

3. Favourite Disney movie.

Meet the Robinsons or Brave.

4. Do you prefer to read fluff or angst?

I like there to be a HEA - so if there has to be angst - as long as I get a happy ending I'm cool. I like to call that Flangst. I really like plot driven fics - but I also love fluffy one-shots... I'm fairly easy. Just don't split up my OTP please.

5. Any siblings?

I'm the youngest of five - my brother is the oldest, and then three sisters, then me.

6. Your favourite fictional character?

Elizabeth Bennet

7. Your favourite person in real life?

My sweetheart, Jay. He's my person.

8. Your top 5 songs of all time?

Bizarre Love Triangle - Stabbing Westward (a New Order Cover) Moonlight Serenade - Glenn Miller Monkey Tree - Mother Mother Sleep Alone - Two Door Cinema Club Sleepwalk - Santo and Johnny

9. What it the biggest risk you have ever taken?

Um. I'm not really a risk taker.

10. What is your biggest pet peeve?

I "seen" it. Irregardles. Supposably. (I really hate bad grammar)

11. How would your friends describe you?

Loud and fun. Kinda silly.

From the ever lovely, @wordsonpages1 💙💛

1. Favourite colour?

Mossy green

2. Favourite book?

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Random Passage by Bernice Morgan. The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman

3. What is your mantra or life motto?

As a family, we have a motto "Salmons don't do Shortcuts" - but personally I have two additional mantras. I have a scripture that is very important to me Mark 5:36 "Be not afraid, only believe." and a song with lyrics that I call my mantra: The song is called Chances by Kirby Heyborne and the line in particular is, "I am hope. I believe. I am alive. I am every thing. I have come to take these chances. I wonder when things will go my way. I was born to live my life and no one tells me who I am."

4. The number one thing that draws you to a person?

I'm shallow. Smile - shoulders - smell.

5. Who is your idol or inspiration?

Queen Elizabeth II Hannah Senesh My grandpa.

6. Places you would like to travel to?

All over Europe.

7. A perfect day would entail?

Sleeping late. Hours reading in the bathtub with no interruptions.

8. Dream job?

Can they pay me to read Bughead fanfiction all day?

9. Ultimate life goal?

To retire and travel with my sweetie and raising well adjusted and cool kids.

10. What do you like/ love most about yourself?

I love that I'm fun and passionate about stuff.

11. Sunrise or Sunset?

Sunset for sure. Mornings suck.

From my girl @jugandbettsdetectiveagency - 💙💛

1. Describe your aesthetic?

Jughead Jones shaking the soap? (does that count?)

2. Favourite place you’ve ever visited?

Visited is an interesting word. My favourite PLACE is the riverbottom at the bottom of the Coulee in Lethbridge. It's home. I love it.

3. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life what would it be?

Nanaimo Bars.

4. Biggest regret?

After my BA I should have gone to Grad school. Or I should have become a Dental Hygenist or something - but I got a History Degree because I love History. I don't work in that field at all so even though I spent $50,000 to become an official Historian... I could have become something else, that would have probably made me a lot happier than what I'm doing and remained an amateur Historian.

5. You’ve been put in the middle of a fantasy battle, what is your weapon of choice?

Double edged lightsaber.

6. Favourite outfit?

Not counting my favourite pajama pants... I have this super cute red and gold paisley handkerchief shirt I bought in Mexico. I love it.

7. Have you ever been in love?

Twice. I was lucky enough to find my sweetheart when I was 19 years old. The love I felt for the bloke before Jay was minuscule in comparison to what I feel for my husband - but it was still love.

8. Favourite thing, fan fiction or not, you’ve ever read?

I can’t answer that. I read too many delicious things.

9. Main thing you look for in a person?

Sardonic sense of humour.

10. What is your earliest memory?

I remember my fourth birthday party really clearly.

11. You’re stranded on a desert island, what one item (that isn’t a boat) would you want with you?

Can I have two? A hammock and a book?

And lastly - from the wonderful @peacelovebughead 💙💛

1. What’s your go-to pump up song?

Well lately it’s been Believer by Imagine Dragons - but normally it’d be something from Two Door Cinema Club or like Take on Me by A-Ha or something. lol.

2. If you could travel absolutely anywhere, where would you go?

Auschwitz.

3. What Hogwarts house do you belong to?

Hufflepuff

4. Thunder or Lightning?

Lightning

5. When do you feel most confident?

When I’m doing something I’m good at and people around me KNOW I’m good at it.

6. What is one of your favourite memories?

I don’t know if I have ‘favourite’ memories. Yesterday at the lake with my husband and my kids (who are teenagers and fight a lot!) - I got to hear them happily laughing and joking and having a wonderful time. That’s today’s favourite memory.

7. Who is a fictional character that you relate to? Why?

Dude. Kevin Keller is a gay, male version of me. And my brother and husband are cops so I relate to that part of him too. lol.

8. If you could wake up famous tomorrow, would you do it?

If I could keep my happy family and my morals - then sure.

9. What is one of your proudest accomplishments?

How about that $50,000 piece of paper I have hanging on my office wall that announces to the world that I’m officially allowed to have an opinion on British History along with the roots and causes of Totalitarianism. Getting that was pretty great.

10. If you were to live in a fictional world, which world would you choose?

Asked earlier - but I’d say the Star Trek universe would be the place to be.

11. If you were to pick a colour palette to describe you, what colours would you choose?

Jewel tones.

#11 questions #thank you all for tagging me #sorry it took so long to reply #real life ate me

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charmingturkeysandwich · 8 years ago

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Knock, Knock Ch. 21: Vacation

Thank you, Pennsylvania, for being gloomy enough today to pass for Seattle. (I’m not happy about it shielding my view of the meteor shower, but whatever.)

This chapter has a fair bit of humor, a guest star, and some slow development. Please let me know what you think if you’re so inclined. :)

Read on AO3.

Read on Tumblr (links to the next chapter at the end of each).

Ruby hadn’t been gone that long, and yet somehow Emma entirely forgot how ridiculously persuasive (manipulative) the girl could be when she was really and truly motivated.

Which is the short story of how in a Skype call meant to serve as a planning meeting for Mary Margaret’s upcoming baby shower, Emma Swan somehow ended up agreeing to visit Ruby. In Seattle. In two weeks.

(Killian was going to kill her, since she’d kind of offered him up as her copilot – after hacking into his iPad to ensure that he didn’t have any scheduled excursions, that is.)

Ruby had acted almost surprised that Emma had been so easily swayed, but that probably was part of the persuasion process – start with guilt and end with innocent surprise… Ruby might have said that to Emma once.

Manipulative wolf girl. Oh well. Maybe it would be fun?

(If Killian didn’t kill her.)

(She’d definitely been watching too much iZombie.)

In an effort to butter up her recently labeled boyfriend, Emma made some hot cocoa (Goldschlagger in hers; Kahlua in his), lit a few candles, and slipped on a little lacy number she’d ordered from Amazon in preparation for whatever romantic milestone/holiday she’d inevitably not realize had arrived until the day of (or, in this case, the preemptive groveling for forgiveness she was about to embark on).

Killian quietly opened her front door only about 5 minutes later (thank god or the hot chocolate would have been more like lukewarm chocolate) and the way his eyes so very cartoonishly bugged out of his skull was both a major boost to her self-esteem and proof that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to make him not hate her after all.

“Swan! My god, are you trying to kill me, love?” Killian’s eyes were still fairly buggy, roving over the royal blue lace in shock and obvious appreciation.

“Is it working?” Emma smiled and did a little twirl that her past-self might have punched her for, but fuck it – she was happy. And happy sometimes made us do embarrassing things.

Killian approached her slowly, grasping her waist firmly when he was close enough, his other hand caressing her cheek, her neck, the swells of her breasts. Goosebumps were cropping up all across the pale expanse of her skin and Killian was smiling to himself as he watched them, his own self-esteem clearly getting a boost from her reaction to him.

It was all so ridiculous. One year before now Emma was such a different person. A valuable one, don’t get her wrong. She was never nothing. But the fact that she could laugh so much easier now – giggle, even – the fact that she so easily opened herself up to embarrassment or ridicule on a daily basis, truly lacking any fear that she would actually be subjected to any of those bad feelings… it was freeing on a level she’d never imagined. She’d always scoffed at the girls who chose a man based on the concept of “safety” – always assuming that meant either the chivalrous “he’ll protect me from physical threats” or the gold-digging “he’ll pay for everything so I don’t have to worry about ending up in a trailer park,” but she’d never even considered the deeper level of safety that another person could provide you.

Killian was the guy who’d always put a smile on her face. The one who would never judge her. Who would still look at her like the sun shone out her ass, even on the days she was having a damn meltdown at her friend’s funeral (thanks for pointing that one out, Ruby). Killian was her home, the partner she’d never thought to ask for who made her feel safe in being herself.

(She loved him, that much was fairly obvious, despite her hesitancy to actually state it.)

Killian leaned in, brushing his nose against hers while still staring straight into her eyes (and probably her fucking soul, while he was at it). “Shall we take this to the bedroom, my lovely?”

His gentle touches and heart-stopping gaze nearly had her unable to breathe let alone remember anything else about her day, but thankfully a chill ran up her spine in that very moment, the hot cocoa she’d prepared rushing back into her overly-stimulated brain. “Ah! No. I mean yes, but I have treats first.”

“Please, lord, tell me it’s whipped cream.”

(She rolled her eyes but stored that comment in the back of her head for the romantic holiday/milestone that no longer had a surprise piece of lingerie prepared for it.)

Emma placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose (leaving behind a little Rudolph-like lipstick smear) and retrieved the mugs from her kitchen – of course making sure to sway her hips just a little more than was strictly necessary.

The two of them shuffled into the bedroom, sipping at their delicousness as Killian sighed in approval. “So what’s the occasion?”

Emma coughed a little as she tried to swallow. “Occasion?”

“I know all these good looks can trick a person into thinking I don’t have a brain, love, but I can still sense a bribe. Not that I’m complaining. Let me tell you, whatever it is that you want, it’s yours.” Killian took another gulp of hot cocoa before setting it down on Emma’s nightstand, her still unread Rosie Effect book serving as a coaster. “Unless you want a pony. He wouldn’t have much room to wander and I’m not too keen on cleaning up piles of crap larger than most normal pets.”

Welp, for being as good at reading people as she was, you’d think she’d be better at not being read. No such luck.

“I – well, it’s not a bribe! I mean, it’s just a… suggestion? Ugh. Why couldn’t you just let me get through the sex part before questioning my motives. Now I’m feeling all guilty.”

“Emma, love, it’s fine! To be fair, I was trying to get to the sex part. And then you gave me hot cocoa and my curiosity got to me. I’ve already said yes, so just fill me in on what I’ve said yes to, and we can fuck ‘til sunrise.”

Killian wasn’t usually one for being crass – no, that was mostly her job – but ridiculous mind-reader that he was probably knew she needed some comic relief, and damn it, it was working.

Emma cracked a smile, but tried (unsuccessfully) to cover it with a gulp of cocoa. “Well, Ruby called. As you know. And we were talking about Mary Margaret’s thing and then suddenly she was making me feel guilty that she’s all alone even though she has Whale and her ability to make friends is clearly far too honed for her to actually be spending all of her time alone and she asked me if I’d come visit her and I swear I said no but then somehow it was a yes and then I’d agreed that you’d come with me and I honestly don’t know how she did it, but I agreed, and it’s probably too early in the relationship for me to be making decisions for you and I swear I can tell her that we can’t if you don’t want to go, and… ”

“Emma!” Killian cut her off, an adorable wrinkle on his forehead actually catching her attention mid-rant. “I think Ruby is better at manipulating than you think, love. She asked me about visiting her before she’d ever even moved. And she insisted on these dates,” he continued, pointing at the blocked off dates in his phone’s work calendar. “She’d instructed me that I should surprise you. But apparently she’d thought better of the surprise and went for guilting you into agreeing instead. Smart move, really. You’re not the biggest fan of surprises.”

“Hey! I can be… spontaneous.”

“Maybe with lingerie. Not generally with the bigger things.” Killian tugged at the little bow between her breasts, the sincerity in his eyes keeping her from saying anything snarky along the lines of have you really known me long enough to know that kind of information? (After all, he did know her that well, which was scary enough in itself.)

“She’s insane. I swear, we’re going to end up having to testify because she conned somebody into doing something insane. Like stealing her an airplane or something.”

“She does have a way with words, I’ll give you that. But enough about Ruby… I’d like to enjoy my entirely unnecessary bribe now.” Killian crawled over her and lay her down on the bed, his lips on her neck enough to make her forget all about the whole manipulated by her best friend thing and to just enjoy the moment.

(And while he didn’t exactly make good on that whole fucking until dawn thing, they certainly shared an exhilarating hour or so before comfortably curling up together and sleeping until well after sunrise.)

When he awoke, there was tousled blonde hair up his nose and a tiny puddle of drool on his chest.

Sure, not the most romantic of mornings, but there was something unfathomably adorable about waking up the woman you love sprawled out in all her very un-sexy morning-after glory, still donning the extremely sexy blue teddy from the night before.

She looked so peaceful, which wasn’t anything new. Even though it seemed oddly self-congratulating of him to think about, it was an objective fact that Emma was far… happier recently. She seemed free and unafraid in a manner that was hard to describe. Because she’d never been afraid. Not of the scary stuff. But of drooling on a guy’s chest? Yeah, he could see that being a nightmare of hers.

And yet he knew that when she woke up and noticed her disheveled appearance and the so very unladylike appearance she was sporting, she’d probably just blush and smile and ask him what was for breakfast.

(He really couldn’t be prouder.)

Apparently he’d done good with the sex the night before because Emma was still out. Even when he slightly adjusted her so he could reach his phone, she was still sleeping soundly, little hiccup-y snores the only sign she’d had any awareness of being moved. So Killian just opened up his news apps and played a few games and just after scoring his second Yahtzee against foundmyprincecharming (Mary Margaret), Emma finally yawned and stretched and joined the land of the living.

“Sleep well, princess?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, snagging a tissue from her nightstand to wipe up her drool off his chest (complete with several trademarked Emma Swan eye-rolls). “I’m thinking waffles?”

Kilian really outdid himself that morning, trying out the egg and hash browns waffle recipe he’d found on Pinterest while he was walking home from Dave and Mary Margaret’s the prior evening. Emma was still wearing the nipple-baring lacy lingerie she’d slept in (what? It was expensive, Jones, and I look adorable; um, I don’t think adorable is quite the word there), and Killian was in his boxers and a very old Star Wars t-shirt he’d forgotten he even owned, when a knock came at the door.

After a silent conversation where the two of them agreed (with their eyes) that Emma was clearly in the less acceptable for visitors state of dress, she shuffled into the bathroom and Killian went to answer the door.

“Erm, can I help you?” Killian asked, confused about the woman at the door. He’d never seen her before – and he was friendly enough with neighbors to recognize most faces, even of neighbors’ visitors – and she clearly looked like it wasn’t him she’d been searching for, either.

“Uh, yes. I’m looking for Jefferson. Is this his building? The last guy whose door I knocked on told me he didn’t know anyone by that name, but this is definitely the address listed…”

Jefferson? That dude never had visitors. Unless you counted his seeming multiple personalities that dropped by on different occasions depending on his mood. “He’s upstairs. I don’t actually know which number his apartment is? But it’s directly above mine, which is the apartment next door. Might I… uh, ask who you are? Jefferson can be a bit unstable, and I’m just not sure you want to drop by unannounced.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. I was married to the guy.” The woman rolled her eyes – seemingly at herself – and muttered a hurried thanks to Killian before rushing toward the stairs.

Crazy dudes get married, too – who’d have thought?

When the door was closed and the coast was clear, he knocked on the bathroom door to alert Emma it was safe to exit. She emerged with a face so yellow he’d thought maybe she turned into a fairy tale villain while she was in there… before noticing the faint outline of smears. “What? I was stuck in there anyway. I figured I’d moisturize,” Emma clarified. “So, Jefferson had a wife. Who’d have thought?”

“That’s what I said! Well, thought. In my head. Anyway… yeah. She looked so normal, too!”

“I wonder if he was always that crazy. Maybe after they were together he got into drugs or something?”

“I think you’ve been watching too much Dateline, darling. Now are we going to get ready for our long day of excursion planning or are you just going to continue having sexy spa day?”

“Hmmm. Maybe both!” Emma said with a wink, before leaning over to kiss his cheek (leaving mud mask goo behind in the process). “Plus we need to plan our vacation, too.”

“Aye, we do. Can you at least change your outfit? We need to be thinking education and wholesome entertainment. Not I’d rather be banging my girlfriend against the wall.”

“Ohhhh, fine.”

It was so fun planning stuff that actually mattered.

That was probably only the second scariest realization of the day. Because as crazy as it was that she was enjoying her little stint as seafaring educator extraordinaire, she was even more shocked that she was also preparing to take a trip with her boyfriend and, you know, not freaking out about it. All the details – about both things, really – were fairly boring. Flight times. Seating. Subjects of study. Games that promote information retention. There was nothing flashy about visiting your friend in the rainy Northwest, and there was no glory in teaching kids about the different types of creatures that live in the coastal Atlantic waters.

But somehow it was one of the most exciting days Emma could remember.

Ugh. At what point had she gone and gotten so boring herself? Probably somewhere near the time she shouted at her masturbating neighbor to keep his self-love to a lower decibel. And then proceeded to become his best friend. And then business partner. And then girlfriend.

(Hers might be the only love story to follow that specific trajectory in the history of ever. The world’s most inappropriate fairy tale that still has a happy ending.)

(Well, probably.)

Apparently in the midst of her little thought train she’d started smiling like a goofball and apparently Killian had noticed because when she finally looked up from the sailing term games for children Pinterest search on her phone (that she hadn’t entirely been paying attention to), the wannabe-pirate beside her was looking all too amused with himself. “Care to share something with the class, Miss Swan?”

“Not particularly, Mr. Hook. Now what do you think about teaching kids about the boat?”

“You mean ship.”

“I mean thing that fucking floats, Killian. There’s a lot of useful information here about getting kids excited for the actual means of transportation rather than about the pirate lore or the sea creatures. And it could be a big draw with parents and teachers because of the safety factor.”

Killian unsurprisingly agreed with her, and surprisingly dropped the subject of her brief reverie, opting instead to talk out the logistics of deciding which themed educational events to offer on which days, which ones were best suited as part of a week-long “camp” and which were best all on their own. It was overwhelming the amount of decisions they needed to make before they ever started promoting the events, but the sense of accomplishment once they’d come up with a tentative plan was kind of well worth it.

Plus, they rewarded themselves with an upgrade on their Seattle flight to business class rather than how-the-fuck-do-tall-people-even-sit-in-these-seats, ahem, economy.

After a brief break for some food (and some heavy snogging, as her British beau would say), it was time to get back down to business – and sadly not to defeat the Huns.

“God, I wish we could just cancel the rest of the booze cruises. I’m kind of sick of adults,” Emma groaned.

“I hear you, love. I feel like there’s got to be a way we can make them more tolerable. I mean, it’s not as if we’re going to entirely discontinue them just because we found another option.”

“I know, I know. But a girl can dream.” After years of bars and drunken one-nighters, you’d think Emma would be used to what accompanies her bar wench ventures. But there are just some experiences that, once you’ve reached your fill of them, you just want to be done.

Killian started scratching down something on the pad of paper in front of him as Emma tried to put on her (metaphorical) big girl panties to deal with the now groan-worthy side of Killian’s business.

But when she spied what Killian had written, she laughed just enough to banish the dread and bring back some semblance of motivation:

Drinking games we can play that will distract the asshats enough to not grope my girlfriend but will also not result in lasting damage to my mistress, the mighty ship.

“Really, Jones, you’re insinuating that you cheat on me with the ship?”

“Ours is a forbidden love.”

The following weeks passed too quickly for Killian’s liking. It’s not that he wasn’t enjoying himself – he and Emma had gotten a remarkable amount of free time to binge some Netflix and try some recipes and play some video games that he never thought he’d be able to convince her to waste her time on. And the business was going well – Belle and Will had volunteered to come on a few of the non-educational excursions and somehow succeeded in helping the corporate stooges, stag parties, and high school reunions have a safe but jolly time. Killian had been finalizing his preparations to unveil the new “summer camp” line of activities and adventures aboard his ship, and Belle had been working tirelessly in getting partnerships with the library and the local schools who all trusted her for not only her own overachieving when she attended their establishments, but of course for her reputation as the fairest and yet most badass of cops on the force.

Will hadn’t been talking much about his courtship with the officer, but it was clear to anyone with eyes or ears that it must have been going well. Will was less of an ass by a mile – he never even made fun of Killian or Robin for bowing out of a football match viewing party for time with their respective ladies. No, he just “found other plans” as well and never mentioned it again.

So, yes, all of that was going just dandy. But it was nothing more than the calm before the storm.

You see, they were leaving for Seattle in the morning. Once they started their journey, they were booked solid – Ruby had convinced them to do anything and everything the city of Seattle had to offer, in addition to several activities of her own imagining. And as soon as they made it back from their jam-packed four-day vacation, it was an all-out sprint to get the next phase of their project moving. Killian needed to visit his kind-of lawyer again about the safety issues that come with hosting so many child-based events at sea. He needed to stop in to see his insurance guy again because apparently he’d missed at least two out of fifty signatures on the packet of forms he’d had to overnight just so they’d get to the guy in time.

And Emma couldn’t come with him. No, she was going to be updating the website to have a whole section on the kid stuff. She was meeting with Syndey Glass from the local paper to talk about the changes they were making. She was basically playing IT, PR, and Accounting departments all at once and while she could have tried to do it on the road, she wouldn’t have been half as productive. And they desperately needed productivity if they actually wanted his business to succeed.

Plus, there was the other factor. The whole trying to make Emma an official business partner without asking her first thing. He knew it wasn’t smart. And really it was reminding him way too much of that time that Ross stayed married to Rachel on Friends like a daft, dumb fool. He was certainly risking quite the outburst if Emma were to find out, and he knew it wasn’t right. But sometimes fear makes us do the dumbest things. And fearing that Emma might panic if they took their first couple-y vacation the same week he wanted to make them business-y partners… well, it wasn’t irrational.

(It’s really too bad there’s no such thing as lingerie for men. He needed an equivalent of Emma’s sorry I agreed to a vacation without consulting you first teddy and boozy cocoa to match his sorry I made you a business partner without consulting you first grovel-fest.)

(Because those two events were totally the same thing.)

(This wasn’t going to end well.)

Knock-knock-knock, knock-knock-knock, knock-knock-knock

Damn. With Emma generally on the same side of the wall as him, he’d almost forgotten how thin the walls really were.

“Yes, love? I don’t believe I recognize that knocking pattern.”

“It’s I don’t fucking know what to pack please come help me.”

Women, he mused, internally rolling his eyes, before he realized that he in fact didn’t fucking know what to pack and also needed some help.

What a pair.

They were late to the airport. It wasn’t because they were too busy making love to notice the time. It wasn’t even because they were still picking out their clothes (nope, they’d done pretty well the night before, laying out their itinerary and counting up the outfits they’d need).

No, they were late because Emma fucking Swan couldn’t survive the drive to the airport without her signature hot cocoa with cinnamon from her favorite diner in addition to an order of onion rings even though it was 6am. The argument with Granny lasted for at least a half hour, and the frying process takes some time as well and he suspected Granny delayed the process even further just to show Emma who’s boss, so to speak, and by the time they’d made it through security and were literally running to their gate, Killian was about 75% positive their relationship wouldn’t last the trip.

Boarding had already begun when they finally located the Seattle flight and Emma tried a smug “see, I told you we wouldn’t be late,” despite being so out of breath her words were almost incoherent, and Killian made the very mature decision to simply not speak to her until they landed.

Which led to her making the equally mature decision to make friends with every single person on their flight, especially the good looking men, chatting away about how she and her neighbor were taking a trip to visit their other former neighbor. A brown-haired college guy headed to a job interview bought her a drink and insinuated that her travel companion was gay and Emma most certainly didn’t correct him and he knew she was just doing it to get him to break his childish silence, but he was tired and cramped because even business class wasn’t exactly like sitting in a recliner and Killian inexplicably found himself tuning out Emma and her buddies and instead thinking of all the swear words he’d be lobbing at Ruby when she picked their sorry asses up from their airport.

There was definitely some reason this was her fault, after all, the meddler that she was.

Killian reached into Emma’s purse and took out some Benadryl – despite having no allergy problems at the moment – and took a nice snooze for the rest of the flight.

Men could be such assholes. Seriously, she’d already known this, but she’d been hoping to be, you know, proven wrong with maybe one specimen in the history of ever. But nope! They were all awful.

To be fair, she was awful. Onion rings were not a morning necessity. But Emma ate her feelings and her feelings were stress and stress was best dealt with using fried deliciousness. So she stubbornly refused to leave Granny’s until she gave her a damn order of onion rings, knowing at a certain point that they were going to be late. And Killian had been so patient and not screaming at her the way she would have been if it was his stubbornness that had forced them into running through the airport like the little boy from Love, Actually but far less adorable.

And she shouldn’t have pulled an I told you so routine when they didn’t miss the flight. But once the words fell out of her mouth, she couldn’t exactly shove them back in. She could have apologized, but she was tired and stressed and for whatever reason her pride would not let her back down from her own stupidity. So Killian steadfastly ignored her and she sent a group message to Mary Margaret and Ruby that she’d probably be single before the plane landed and she did her best to not go cry in the bathroom (a very un-Emma reaction that she was struggling to avoid).

So she made friends with some nice-enough strangers and flirted just a little more than she was actually OK with and finally when Killian had practically drugged himself to sleep, she admitted how much of an ass she really was.

(Not to Kilian, of course. He was drooling on her rolled-up sweatshirt she’d jammed between his head and the window. No, she’d decided apologizing to Phillip, the random dude across the aisle from her was a good first step.)

“Have you ever done something really stupid that wasn’t all that bad but still made you feel like you murdered your whole family and laughed about it or something?” Emma asked, mostly out of nowhere.

But Phillip seemed to understand her motivation pretty quickly, his eyes flashing toward her sleeping “neighbor” immediately. “I took this trip. That’s bad enough, I’d say.”

“Aren’t you going to a job interview? That’s kind of… necessary.”

“Yeah, but it’s all in the timing. My girlfriend back home – she’s in New York. More specifically in Presbyterian Hospital. She was in an accident last week and she’s in a coma. The doctors say she’s going to be fine – or at least they think so – but she still hasn’t woken up. And her family all told me I needed to go do this interview and my family agreed. But it sort of feels like the worst thing ever. Which is why I didn’t really mind when you were so clearly trying to make your boyfriend mad by talking to me and the guys in front of you. It was a nice distraction from my own… somewhat awfulness.”

Phillip’s shame was etched deep into his face, his confession opening up the flood gates on all the thoughts and feelings he’d been denying the first few hours of the seemingly endless flight.

And she got it. It’s hard when it feels like you’re doing something selfish when really it’s just the rational thing to do. But guilt can just about kill you.

“You need to get a job, though, right? Your girlfriend would understand that.”

“Oh, absolutely. I only left because I could practically hear her saying ‘get your ass to the airport and leave me to sleep like the princess you know I am.’ But it doesn’t change the fact that I should be with her. I promised to be with her. Forever. And I only haven’t made that official because I’m not even out of college and I don’t have a job and therefore can’t afford to purchase the thing you generally purchase when you’re promising forever.”

Desperately hoping Killian didn’t take this most inopportune moment to wake up and misinterpret a situation (based on her own prior asshole-ness, of course), Emma reached across the aisle to grasp Phillip’s hand. “You’ll get this job. She’ll wake up. You’ll buy the ring. Don’t let your guilt make you fuck up the job interview or your princess will never forgive you.”

Emma could feel the small smile creeping across her face as Phillip finally laughed, grasping her fingers more tightly in thanks. “And what about you, young lady? How exactly have you messed up today?”

Ah, the change of subject. Just what she’d been dreading. “Well, it’s idiotic. Seriously. I made us late to the airport this morning on our first trip as a couple, all because I was nervous and demanded onion rings at breakfast.”

“At breakfast?!” Phillip threw his hands in the air. “Wow, you’re rude and insane.” The two of them laughed at the whole situation, Emma quickly recounting her snarky comments and Killian’s refusal to take her please yell at me bait.

“I hate to say it, but you might want to wake your sleeping beauty over there and maybe say all of that to him? I appreciate your self-awareness and honesty, but that dude fell asleep to watching you ignore him and flirt with other guys. You’re going to have a lot of groveling to do.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I brought a groveling outfit. Just in case.”

“OK, that I didn’t need to know.” Phillip faked a look of disgust and then steadfastly stared at Emma, conveying a whole lot of judgment without saying any words at all.

“Oh, fine, I’ll talk to him.”

The plane was crashing.

Holy shit. The plane was crashing.

Wait. No. He was falling out of the plane?

Hmmm. No, there wasn’t any wind. But he was being jostled all over the place and the last he’d remembered he’d been on the plane and …

Oh. He was being shaken. By a person.

Yeah, the Benadryl had been a terrible idea, in retrospect.

“Killian? Are you alive? I’m really hoping Whale is with Ruby at the airport because I’m not sure if you’re in need of medical care…”

Killian grumbled what he thought was “I’m fine,” but Emma continued babbling out her worries, so he’d apparently not been as clear as he’d intended.

“’m up. ‘m Ok. No doctor Frankenstein.”

After another few minutes of Killian trying to crawl out of the Benadryl coma while Emma gently rubbed his arm, he finally was able to wrench his eyes open and attempt to come back to reality.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

“I think I’m still not talking to you,” he replied, trying to wrack his memory for any evidence of him not being angry at her anymore.

“I think you’re probably right, but you kind of need to at least look at me so I can apologize.”

“Apologize? I was getting the distinct feeling that Emma Swan didn’t think she ever needed to apologize for anything.” He was slowly coming back to reality, which was just bringing his bitterness even closer to the surface than it was before – tiredness does lead to a diminished filter, after all.

Emma’s expression fell and her shoulders slumped and the shame on her face was almost enough that Killian met her halfway on her whole apology thing. Almost.

“I really am sorry, though. I shouldn’t have let my stress make me stubborn this morning and then I shouldn’t have tried to write off the consequences of said stubbornness and I really shouldn’t have tried to make you angry so you’d talk to me instead of just being the grown up and asking you to talk to me.”

“And why ever would you care if your neighbor and gay travel companion was talking to you or not?”

Emma closed her eyes in what looked like frustration, her brows furrowed like something was causing her literal pain. And much like he didn’t take her anger-bait earlier, she didn’t take his now. “I should have told you I was sorry. I should have admitted I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

As much as she generally shied away from prolonged eye contact during moments of stress, Emma held his gaze, clearly pleading with him to forgive her.

(If only she knew he could never not.)

Amidst an involuntary allergy medicine-induced yawn, Killian reached around her and brought her in for a hug. Her body seemed to release all its tension as she sank into his side, snuggling her nose into his neck and kissing all the skin she could reach without moving. He ran his hands through her hair and just enjoyed the moment, not sullying it with any more talk of aye, we were both right wankers this morning. It didn’t actually need to be said.

“So, are we there yet?” he asked, legitimately not sure about how long had passed while he slumbered.

“Hmmm. No, still about an hour left.”

“Well, then why don’t you introduce me to your friend?” The fellow across the aisle had clearly been listening to their conversation – Killian had a sneaking suspicion the man may have encouraged his stubborn lass to wake him in the first place – and Killian was frankly too tired to hold a grudge at the moment.

Ugh. Fucking Ruby.

As soon as the plane had landed and come to a stop and everyone was free to switch on their phones, Emma had received a flood of messages from her so-very-frustrating best friend.

Victor is running late at the hospital so we’ll be there a little late.

OK, a lot late. It’ll be probably an hour after you land.

Make that an hour and a half. He’s saving lives though!

We can call you an Uber?

I’m sorry!

Emma didn’t trust Uber. Or taxis. Or public transportation in cities she’d never been to. So after consulting Killian about the delay, she’d fired off a text to Ruby, complete with as many annoyed emojis as she could find.

Too nervous to trust any strangers. Get your ass here ASAP. We’ll be waiting. If we die it’s your fault.

So the two of them deplaned and stretched and grabbed a bottle of water each before waiting on their luggage to make its way around the ridiculously slow carousel. Once they’d retrieved their stuff, they shuffled off to a nice corner where they could lean on their luggage and each other and maybe get a few minutes of rest before Hurricane Ruby made landfall.

“Swan,” Killian called, poking at her arm gently. “Are you awake?”

“Killian, it’s been 45 seconds since we sat down. Of course I’m still awake.”

“Well, good! Because I had an idea.”

“If it involves asking Phillip to take us anywhere then no. Because the fancy company he’s interviewing for sent a fancy person to pick him up and they probably don’t tolerate stowaways.”

“Oh, wow, I hadn’t even thought to ask him. That would have been a good point, Swan! But no. I was thinking… we didn’t get to properly make up after our brief row this morning.”

“Uh, I apologized and we hugged, what more do you want from me? Flowers? I’m sure they sell some here somewhere…” Emma started to push off the suitcase-pillow she’d made, begrudgingly willing to go the extra mile if he needed some tangible proof of her sorry-ness before they moved on with their lives – but he pulled her back down.

“No, love, I was thinking more about sneaking off over there to the janitor’s closet that the cleaning man clearly didn’t lock when he left just now.”

“What, so you can kill me? I’m too tired for murder, Killian,” she whined, her brain clearly too exhausted to catch Killian’s meaning.

“Emma, I’m suggesting we take our free time to have some sex in a semi-public area. Ruby would be proud, after all.” Killian was laughing and seeming to keep his request in the half-joking tone – probably in case she said no – but she could tell he really meant it.

And could feel how much he meant it when she skimmed her hand over his ever-so-slightly tented pants.

“This might be the worst idea you’ve ever had, but I’m in.”

The two of them stood slowly and meandered down the hallway that led to the closet. Killian checked the door (discretely) and as he’d suspected, it was unlocked. So Emma casually leaned against the wall, pretending to type a text message on her phone while Killian ducked into the closet, his and Emma’s bags in tow. She looked up, ensured no one was looking directly at her, and then followed him inside, swinging the door shut quietly.

“Fuck, it’s super dark in here.” Emma couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face, let alone see Killian. But it wasn’t more than a few seconds before his hands were at her waist, pulling her into a deep kiss as his fingers pulled at the bottom of her shirt so he could reach up it. She sighed as his hands caressed all up and down her back, his fingers working at the clasp of her bra as his mouth trailed across her cheek, down her neck, and eventually down her chest until he was pulling her shirt up and closing his lips around her nipple.

She fought the deep instinct to moan at how good it all felt, knowing that there very well could be someone outside the door actually casually leaned against the wall sending a text message. So she held her breath as much as she could as he assaulted her with kisses and licks and sucks to her skin that surely would leave at least a few marks.

“Can’t… wait,” she whisper-moaned as she pulled back from him enough to feel down to the fly of his pants, unzipping it and yanking down his jeans and boxers just far enough to have access. Killian really did moan when her hand finally grasped him, and she brought her mouth to his in an attempt to silence them both.

She reached for a wall to get some leverage, but couldn’t feel for it in the dark. Leave it to them to find a place secluded enough to have sex, but too dark to work out the logistics of actually doing it. But as Emma let out a frustrated whine, Killian mumbled something about “just like this,” as he kicked the suitcase beneath him onto its side before turning Emma to face away from him.

He reached around her and pulled down her sweats, leaving kisses along the back of her neck as he reached between her legs to find her far more than ready for him. “Put your leg up on the bag,” he instructed, and not a moment after she hitched her leg up, she felt him line himself up and push inside her.

Maybe it was the stress of the day, the relief of having gotten through their little issue, or the fact that they didn’t die in a fiery plane crash, but Emma was painfully close to orgasm after little more than a minute. She was biting her lip so hard she could taste blood and was grasping one of Killian’s hands so hard he might have bruises, but she was determined to keep herself quiet as the flood waters broke.

Killian was clearly just as ready to fall as she was because he was muffling his grunts by burying his face in her hair, his breath on her oversensitive neck paired with his deep thrusts practically making her forget her own damn name.

Which is probably how she forgot exactly where she was and let out a very un-stealthy moan as Killian spilled himself inside her (and probably down her yoga pants in the process). He grunted slightly in relief as they came down from what was probably one of their stronger joint orgasms – especially for the surprisingly short duration of the encounter itself.

As they caught their breath, Emma tilted her head to the side and sloppily found his lips for a brief kiss as they each pulled up their pants – and just before they could reach down and grab the handles of their suitcases to make a hasty exit, a knock sounded at the closet door.

Fuck.

Read the next chapter!

#cs ff #cs au #cs au ff #captain swan #knock knock #keisha writes #sorry this isn't well edited #i'm tired as fuck and in too much pain #if anyone wants to be my beta give me a holler

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opalesscent · 8 years ago

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My review on Riverdale pt. 1

So maybe you can tell that i’m pretty hyped up about Riverdale. The excitement that one of the most beloved comic is turning into a hot drama got to me since i first heard the announcement. I was fully aware that this was going to be like any other teen drama, the dark tone, the tropes and all, and boy, let me tell you..

Let’s start off on why I liked it

Archie, played by KJ Apa, is immensely hot. Like spiced tea with drips of honey.

Cole Sprouse. My beloved, nerdy baby Sprouse twin that i grew up with. But this time he dyed his hair and turned into an emo dork. So basically me.

Veronica Lodge, played by Camila Mendes. I love her character from her fierce yet caring persona, to her look, and her backstory. She’s a very intriguing character that you want to follow. And she’s the only good character, as agreed by many critics. (Also, I’m very gay for her)

A murder. All good stories start off with a good ol’ murder!

The retro vibe. Yenno, neon 80s diners, retro cars, sock hops, boogie music and small town teen angsts right?

Now there’s some particular negative things about this series too

There’s definite incest that has been going on with the Blossom (Bombshell? idk they call Cheryl both and it’s really confusing) twins. Quote “He was my soulmate” referring to Cheryl’s dead twin brother.

There is a teacher-student romance aka statutory rape.

I mean, it’s hard to know because all these “sophomores” look as old as the adults themselves. They’re all 19+. But it’s typical for teen dramas to have adult actors play the teen rolls. But tbh they’re not even giving off the teenage vibe. Other shows can pull it off like Eyewitness and Skam but these are total adults playing as 16 year olds.

The timeline is really weird. We have conversations about internet trolls, references to pop culture and celebrities, but then there’s scenes in neon diners and retro buggy cars and all. The show starts with a Kennedy-esque fashion, and then the adults have their typical 80s parents style, and then you see Veronica looking fly as fuck with modern fashion, modern prom attire, hairstyles, etc.

The typical teen drama stereotypes are soooooo obvious. I feel like this show is part satire for pointing them out. Quote “You’re Gay. We have to be best friends.”or “Faux lesbian cheerleader try out kiss is so 1980s”. The protagonist is followed by almost every girl, he’s a popular football player who has a soft side because he wants to get into music, brings-his-guitar-to-the-lunch-table kinda guy. The popular, smart, and kind blonde that makes everyone either turned on or envy or both, having an unrequited crush on the protagonist. The glamorous girl that just came from the big city to try and start again in the small town, becoming the competition for the blondy but also a best friend? Frenemies i guess. The queen bee bitch in all white with pearls and hosts the prom after party. The closeted tough jock sneaking around with the said openly gay best friend. The emo yet intellectual, pretentious blogger/writer that sees things in a different point of view, etc.

This is so different from the Archie comics. Sooooo different. They just copied and pasted the names to basically a Dawson’s Creek reboot. I saw the Archie comics as something very light hearted; something you see on your grocery store newsstand. But then it’s like they took black paint and smeared it over the comics and presto! A groundbreaking new drama series appeared.

By any means, Riverdale is not groundbreaking at all when it comes to teen dramas. But then again, I’ve only seen the pilot so i praaay that it gets better. I’m really rooting that it will because I really want to be obsessed with this series, seeing it as the new biggest Skam or Eyewitness that i didn’t jump on. Tomorrow’s the premiere or Ep 2... oh god, godspeed to me.

#riverdale

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vanchlo · 3 years ago

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The Partner / Chapter Thirteen, "The Healing"

Word Count: 7.7k / Story Masterlist / Read The Assistant / Read on Wattpad / Song: I Will Follow You Into The Dark by Death Cab for Cutie / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"Since I've met you everything I've done has been in part because of you. I've cant untie myself from you, not my heart or my mind or any other part of me and I don't want to. I always thought love made you stupid make you weak, to love is to destroy. Love didn't make you weak, it made you stronger than anybody I'd met and I realized I was the one who was weak."

- City of Glass

Everything inside of me shouts to flee, to run away from him, but I know that I can't do that anymore. A new old awkwardness steals the space between us as I look into his eyes, feeling mine pour over with the feelings that his stir in me.

"Come on, let's get comfy for this," Harry murmurs. Next, I'm squealing when he stands up, carrying me in his arms. It's easier than I thought it would be when my arms circle his neck, and my head finds his shoulder. "You're lighter, Becks."

I hum an acknowledgement of sorts, not knowing what I could say to that, but part of me thinks that he knows that. I know that he does. That's not what I say next, but something else instead, "Claire's food might help with that. If you stop eating my brookies."

"Your brookies, you say? I don't remember her putting your name on them," he responds. Something sparks inside of me at the sound coming from his chest, the beginning of a laugh. It continues with its song as his feet find the whines and creaks of the hardwood floor. It had been a good while since I'd felt lucky to get to hear his sound, and even more so, to see it at work when he gently lays me down on the bed.

"I guess I can share."

"You're going to have to," Harry says, a duality in his words. I hear it bounce around in my head as I watch him join me underneath the covers. A sliver of lingering afternoon sun peeks in from the window, highlighting the freckles decorating his face.

At that thought, a sour guilt knits together in my gut, because how had I ever stopped feeling lucky to have him? I had wanted him for so long and couldn't believe it when I finally got to call him mine. Even more so when I got to call him my fiance, and the father of my child. He still was, nothing had changed that, and I was so grateful for it.

"There's no pressure, bug. No judgement and no wrong answers . . Alright?"

"Alright," I whisper, still shocked at how weird his touch feels. That was something I never thought I'd think two years into loving him now. My fiance and best friend. His lips hold sunshine when I finally meet his eyes, a color that makes my heart squeeze, because of what I wonder. "I can't tell you how many times I've wondered if she'd have your eyes. Your dimples. Your . . curls."

His nod is silent and yet it's not. It speaks volumes as my favorite shade of green hides behind the sadness filling his eyes. "I've wondered that too, but I've always wished our kids had your eyes. I know she would've been beautiful, just like her Mom."

"Harry," it's a sigh, one damaged by pain that doesn't even skim the surface of how that makes me feel.

"I know, bug. I know," his voice is light like a feather, but as his hand comes to cradle my cheek, I know it's the least bit that. Leaning into his hand, my lips quiver under the weight of his words and those I know I need to say. "I miss her too . . all of the time, Becks."

"What did I do wrong? I still don't understand w-why, Harry," looking up at him through watery eyes, I watch his reaction and how this one stings.

"You didn't do anything wrong, honey. You did it all by the book. Neither of us did and we can't continue to blame ourselves for something that we had no control over . . I wish I could tell you why, but I can't. I don't know. I don't think we ever will know why, Becks."

"I wish I knew why she had to die," I crumple in his hands until I'm hiccuping sobs against his neck, my favorite hiding place that I'd been hiding from. It had been so hard sometimes to just breathe, and now as I fought for it, it felt a little bit easier. I had been slowly drowning this entire time in my own tears and grief, but finally I found hold of him, and he was saving me. I'd at last let him.

"I do too."

"I don't want to forget her, but it's so fucking hard to think about. I know I need to do s-something so that I can . . can think about other things, but then I feel guilty just thinking about not missing her all of the time," I confess against the chain of his necklace, feeling the way his chest heaves against mine.

"I've been thinking the same exact thing . . I never want her to be forgotten, she's our daughter, but her death doesn't need to consume us anymore, Becks. I know it's silly to say, but I don't think she'd want us to do that . . Even if she was only a baby, she'd want us to be happy. I know that grief doesn't let you pick and choose, but I want to be happy again. Happy that we got to be her parents for those almost four months- you know what, we're still her parents and we always will be. Nobody can take that away from us. I want to remember the good. The first time hearing her heartbeat and seeing her on the ultrasound, telling our families about her, and picking her name . . I never want to forget her, Becks, she's our daughter, but we're going to be okay. Maybe not today or in a week, but soon. I want to feel okay again, even though she's gone."

"So do I, Harry," I tearfully agree, busying myself by playing with the curls on the back of his neck. "I don't want . . want her to think that means I've forgotten her or that I love her less. I can't . . can't even imagine having another baby anytime soon."

"I'm not ready either, Becks, and that's okay. I don't know when I'll be. It's alright that we're not okay and may not be for a while, but she knows. I like to think she knows how loved she is, and she's being taken care of by so many loved ones who are telling her that. Our grandpas and grandmas."

"Yeah, she's pretty lucky."

"So are they," he murmurs. It's a while before my lungs calm down and my eyes find him again. A corner of his mouth twitches but a dimple doesn't appear. Instead, a tear and its trail does, glistening on his cheek. "Hi, pretty girl."

A smile is all that I can suffice. I find it too hard to look in his wet eyes for long, and resort to playing with his rings. It had felt awkward to me when I'd put mine back on, not being able to remember why I'd ever taken them off in the first place. But then I remember, and my chest heaves painfully at the memory. It was because of the blood. They had become caked with it and he'd noticed at the hospital and taken them off of me to wash. It hadn't been until earlier today that I'd had the courage to look at them again.

"I never got to feel her kick, and I'm not sure if I wish that I had because then it would've been harder . . Your turn," it's a whisper from my lips as his wait for me.

"I can't find it in myself to get rid of those flowers on the table . . I almost wish that they'd stop coming. Every note says the same thing in some variation, and they're just a blatant reminder every time I see them . . that our baby died."

"It's not just you," I confess and when his thumb settles on the strip of gauze still taped around the edge of my palm, I know that my secret is on its way out.

"Can I see it, please?"

"Sure . . it's really not that bad. It just bled a lot at first, and . . and I didn't know how to tell you," I answer, letting him peel the medical tape back to expose the scabbed over cut. It came as a bit of a shock to me too, somehow making the wound hurt again when I saw the look in his eyes.

"That looks like it hurt, buggie. What happened? I wish you had told me . . had let me help."

"I didn't do it to myself, Harry," I murmur, grabbing onto the courage to look into his eyes. He vocalizes an understanding and I nod, relieved. "Another fucking vase of flowers came a few days ago, I don't remember when. It fell out of my hands when I got it from the delivery guy at the door. A sound scared me when I was picking up the glass . . I don't even know who they were from, because I'm so sick of the flowers too, and so I threw them away . . I can't believe I did that, I still feel guilty about it."

"You shouldn't, love. It's okay. Accidents happen," he assures me. I hear a duality in his words again and find it hard to ignore. "My Mom wanted to come over one of these days to help out. Maybe I can give her the task of doing something with them. They're sore on the eyes for both of us, and I'm rather sure they're bothering my allergies."

"Good excuse," I wink and a dimple almost appears in his cheek. If one did, I don't get the chance to see, because he's pulling me against his chest. "You should tell your Mom that one. It's the safer one out of the two," I continue, feeling my body relax against his. My eyes fall closed at the feeling of his lips against the crown of my head. His favorite spot.

"I think I will . . It's your turn, buggie."

With a labored sigh, I comb my thoughts for one that's tame enough to admit. How could I ever sum up the sour emptiness that's consumed me ever since I woke up that morning without him and . . without her? the thought comes but within moments it's pushed away by another. I don't need to because he knows. Because the emptiness lives inside of him too.

"I feel like I need to find a pretty way to explain all of this- what I'm feeling, but I finally realized that I don't have to. You're feeling it all too," I hardly hear the words myself, and even so, I know that he hears what they really say. "The emptiness, or lack of feeling."

"Yeah, I am . . I'm sorry for exploding on you the other day about it . . About us going through the same thing. It wasn't the right way to do it."

"It's okay. I'm kind of glad for it. It woke me up and made me realize it's not just me m-mourning our daughter."

Harry hums a reply, one I'm not sure how to handle, but he does that for me, "I didn't want to tell you and upset you more, and frankly, I've tried to ignore it myself too." his lips pause. Only when I prompt him with a concerned question does he continue. "She's been trying to hide it, but Gemma told me my Mom is taking it hard. She hasn't told me herself but since she's staying with my sister, Gemma's noticed it and told me."

"Oh God. I had no idea. I've hardly spoken to her . . s-since," I huff, my thoughts spiraling when my scope opens beyond the two of us. "It's not just us hurting."

"Yeah, neither did I. She's done a good job of hiding it, that's for sure. I think what's worst for her is that she wants to do something to help, but doesn't know what. I haven't really let her come around, only to stop by a few times. I know your dad struggles with how to help and Skye too, they've told me so- and I don't intend to upset you by telling you this, so please don't be. I just don't want it to be a surprise to you."

"I know. Thank you," I mumble, hearing his classic hum in return. It had been so long since I'd felt his facial hair rub against my face, and somehow, it sends a tranquility across my body. "I can only imagine how upset my dad is. He was supposed to be a grandfather for the first time. I've spoken to him but, of course, he didn't mention it. That's Chuck for you."

"He told me that he didn't want to upset you, Becks, and he's a quiet one from what I know. To no surprise, he said that he'll be okay, but it's you that he's worried won't be," Harry shares aloud. The volume of his revelation grows inside of my head, but my well of responses shrink away. "Your turn."

Diving into the web of thoughts that have scattered my brain lately, I'm not sure where to go next, and so that's what I say, "I don't know what to say. So much of it is scary . . to think . . . to share."

"You don't have to be scared to tell me, Becks. Nothing bad is going to happen if you say it out loud. I promise. No judgement, bug." Shaking my head doesn't rid my head of them, despite knowing from experience that it wouldn't. Seconds pass and they only grow more stubborn, wanting to be there, and I realize the only way to get them to leave is to say them.

"Harry, wh-what if we try to have another baby and th-they die too?" a shiver runs down my spine before I even say it. When I do, my mouth trembles against his collarbone. Despite squeezing my eyes shut, I feel the hot tears escape them, painting his skin.

If I hadn't known him for as long as I had, his silence would have scared me. Still, I'd be lying if it didn't phase me, because I wait impatiently until he speaks again.

"It scares the shit out of me too, Becks. I can't even . . think about trying for another, because I'm afraid too . . that we'd lose them. The doctor said how many times that it's usually a one time thing, but that doesn't make me stop worrying or being scared. I wish I could tell you that we'd be okay, but . . I don't even know that. I hope so badly we will be, but I don't know."

"We can't know, and that's what hurts the most."

The rumbling of an agreement tickles at my ears and against my cheek where it hugs his chest. Thoughts bloom left and right inside of my brain and aren't even slowed by his fingers combing through my hair. It was something that had never failed to bring me comfort and to lull me into a sleep. That is until now.

"What do we do then . . Harry?" I whisper, fear laced throughout my words. Again, he hesitates. I can almost make out the sound of the wheels turning in his head as he thinks. Lying next to him and wrapped inside of his arms, the tension in his muscles reflects his thoughts.

"I wish I knew, Becks. We just . . have to give it time, I suppose. They say time heals wounds, but a month later and I still miss our baby that we never met. I don't get it . . . I guess we'll give it some time and wait until we're ready, that's all that we can do. And to take care of ourselves."

"And each other," I break in, feeling the movement of his head nodding at my words.

"Yes, that too. It's more important now than ever," Harry says, announcing his words by pulling away to look me in the eyes through his wet pair.

"I can't say how sorry I am that I forgot to take care of you too."

There's just a tert shake of his head I see before my eyes are falling closed, and he's kissing me. I'd done this how many times by now, but it still feels weird. It had been a long time since I'd thought that, probably since my accident, and yet as I kissed him back it felt strange before it felt familiar. Like seeing an old friend. He couldn't know that's why the next tear fell down my cheek when we were looking at each other again, because of the way I'd forgotten him and us through all of this.

"You don't need to keep apologizing. Promise," he tells me with a warm tilt to his lips, just as he taps my nose with his finger. "Boops."

"I love you, Harry," it had been born in my mind shortly after meeting him, this very sentence. At first, they weren't the same words, but they always had held the same meaning. It stirs up emotion inside of me, as if I needed any more, as the Guilt Train speeds on, reminding me of how that thought had been absent from my head lately. It hadn't been the first missing phrase, but it had been the most important one, hadn't it?

Nonetheless, a few dapples of sunshine spread out on his lips as they return it, "I love you more, Becks." His smile waits, hesitating as my own lips do the same. Smiling and thinking.

"I love you the most."

The softest of chuckles pours from his lips as something glints in his eyes staring down at me. "Hey, there's my girl. She's back."

Nodding at him, I realize it's been too long since my lips have reached this high, but he always seems to bring them back. He never fails, afterall.

"I'm getting there. I'm trying."

Inching his face towards mine, my eyes follow his as he brushes his nose against mine, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," his words tickle at my cheeks like a feather, but they don't make me sneeze. They don't make me laugh, and most important of all, they don't make me cry. They make me smile and finally soak in the sunshine he pours onto me. "That's all we can do, Becks - is to try and get better. Eventually we will . . We'll be okay, I know it, maybe not right away but we will."

With the taste of his chapstick on my lips once again, I nuzzle my head into his neck and fall asleep there, for the first time in a very long time. One that had felt longer than all of the other times that I had been without him, even if it wasn't, but it surely was the worst of them all. Because he was there by my side but I couldn't find it in me to reach out and grab onto him. As he sings our song and lulls me into a cryless sleep, I promise silently to never let go again.

I woke with a start. It was a surprise, but after it took me a moment to make sense of my surroundings, it wasn't. I had been waking up this way for weeks now, but it didn't make it any easier to breathe this time. Especially not when I found the bed empty beside me. That was something I wouldn't have minded if it were even just two days ago, but no, not now.

Throwing back the covers, my eyes searched the dark room, unbeknownst to what time it was. That didn't let me fall back into the covers and search for sleep again. I hadn't been rational for a while now, and I wasn't when I raced to the door. Somebody beat me to it and upon looking up, a half asleep Harry looked down at me. Confusion twisted his eyebrows into a question but I knocked that off when I circled him in a hug. The sound of a breath leaving him came and then did his arms around me, and my crying.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he murmurs, sleep adding layers to his voice.

"I woke up and you weren't there, I was so scared."

A sound that couldn't be described, other than a huff of acknowledgement comes now from him, "Oh, I'm so sorry, bug. I was just getting a glass of water from the kitchen . . It's still the middle of the night, let's go back to bed."

I let him guide me back to our mess of covers that we call a bed. He pulls them over us and at the feeling of his head hooked over my chin, I try to calm down. It's never been something that I was good at doing on my own.

"Was it a bad one this time?"

A nod.

"What was yours about?"

"You didn't just get up for water, did you?" I ask into the empty air, surely the rest of the city asleep without us. We weren't up early for work or up late from other things. No, I was certain that very few others across the world were awake for the same reason that we were.

"No," he answers, his chest heaving with a sound of sadness escaping him. If only it were that easy. "I'll tell you what mine was about, if you'll tell me about yours."

"You should've been a therapist instead of a lawyer, always getting me to talk," I joke, trying to ease the tension. That wasn't what I was doing, but instead, I was deflecting. Like always. "I was watching everybody around us having kids and . . and we didn't have any . . Your turn."

"We . . We were in the new house and we had a baby. Phoebe," Harry confesses, a hollowness to his voice that hadn't been there since that day. I could tell by the sound of his voice that the waterworks weren't very far. Soon, it was my turn to hold him as his body shook with cries as I tried to keep my own in check.

"That sounds like a good dream," I almost said, knowing there was no point to it. It's the very reason his body shook with each loud sob, because it only made the nightmare scarier.

It was only after a few horribly sung songs to him that his soft snores began, mine soon following.

Upon waking up the next morning, it still didn't feel real that I was allowed to be hopeful. To try and be happy and to not feel guilty about it. A small smile hugged the corners of my lips when I remembered the way she sang me to sleep last night despite the upsetting reason for the occasion. I tried to push the memory of that nightmare away and how hauntingly real it had felt. I let my smile linger at recalling the way she took care of me. I had craved it for too long now, the way that I had needed her and at last she had let me.

Those are the thoughts that stayed with me when I pulled on my layers and did my morning walk, leaving her sound asleep with a kiss to her head. Despite the unwavering winter, it was something that had meant more to me than I'd initially planned. Even on the mornings where it took me half an hour or more to talk myself into getting out of bed, I still went on for a walk. It had started small, seeing as how I'd lost any workout regimen when everything had come crashing down. I started small and just walked around the block, but now, I had worked my way up to half an hour walks around the neighborhood.

By the time I'd made my way back to the house, I could hardly feel my nose and could think of nothing better than to slip back into bed with her. The letdown was more severe than I'd expected when I didn't find her in between the sheets. I couldn't be sure if I was surprised, but that was forgotten entirely when I also couldn't find her in the bathroom, in the kitchen, or in the living room. I didn't even waver at the bottom of the staircase before climbing it, ripping open doors frantically in search of her. No longer did I fret about the coldness of my limbs as an anxious warmth had spread over me. The thrashing of my heart and the irrational thoughts filling my head all came to a halt when I opened the door to the nursery, and there she was, sitting on the bed where everything was too.

Something swelled and shattered deep inside of me, leaving me breathless as I stood there, watching her. I looked on as she half faced me, clutching a gray onesie to her chest as guttural sobs consumed her. Recognizing it wasn't what made my hand fly to my mouth, and I wasn't sure what did that. It must have been a combination of the first thing we bought for our child that had passed away, and the fact that she was holding it. What had done it for me was opening this door to see her in here. The room of all rooms. It was where our baby was supposed to sleep, and slowly we had filled it with things meant for them. Now, it had become a mausoleum of sorts, and not once had I stepped foot in here since that fateful day at the hospital.

Pressing my hand against my quivering lips didn't silence the sounds they made as the rivers coursed down my face. Something resonated inside of me, telling me that she knew I was there. My vocal chords had taken a vacation the second I entered the room and laid eyes on her. Unlike them, my legs still worked and they carried me over to her. Sitting down beside her felt regretful when her cries became louder to my ears, and so did their trails on her cheeks. Her body shook harder when my arms came around her, holding her against me from behind. Mumbling her name had never felt so laborious or excruciating, but when she said our daughter's name, I knew it didn't compare.

"Can we . . . ," she started to say, a rockiness to her voice that was becoming far too normal as of late. "Can we look at it all together and then . . can we pack it away?"

Nodding against her cheek, I hummed an agreement. Looking down at her hands rolled into taut fists around the fabric, a memory swam into view, one I'd been trying to forget. She'd finally come around to the idea of being pregnant and during our first shopping trip after my accident, we'd perused the baby aisles happily. The FRIENDS 'Could I Be Any Cuter?' baby onesie had caught our attention right away, and we couldn't wait to put our little baby in it.

Pressing my lips to her shoulder now, I look on as she folds it nicely, smoothing her hand over the letters and the dark spots from her tears. With my mouth against the slope of her neck, my eyes followed when she took out the stuffed giraffe, a sob catching in her throat. There I remained, slowly finding my voice and smoothing my thumb over the plushie, knowing our baby would never play with the gift from her grandmother.

I took the next thing out of the bags we had been gifted from friends and family over the last few months. More stuffed animals and clothes passed through our hands, as did knitted blankets, hats, and more. With each one, the shoulder of her shirt grew wetter with my sad realization that our daughter would never get to love these things, because she was well and truly gone. She was never going to be born and be brought home to live in this house with us, or any other.

It shook my body for long after we placed each folded and caressed item into the plastic bin. She took longer to calm down inside of my arms, and even singing our song couldn't make it all better. For a good while now I had come to accept that nothing would except for time. Maybe not even that either.

In some way and somehow, it had been one of the worst days, despite the feeling I had that things were getting better. Slow it may be, but they were. It had almost been a month now since we'd lost our baby and it still hurt as much as the first day. I know he could hear the words bouncing around inside of my head, even if I didn't say them.

"Today was hard, huh?" Harry's murmured words smell of minty toothpaste when they hit my face. The words in my head can't find a way to my lips, and nor can my eyes find his. "How about this, bug. Can you rate how your day was? 10 being the worst ever pain and 0 being none?"

I find it in me to nod my head at his words, encouraged by his hand lacing with mine. The amethyst rings he'd surprised me with not long ago roots me to the moment as I brush my thumb along its stones.

"Eight . . and a half," I whisper, seeing from the corner of my eye how his head moves in acknowledgement. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, it's hard to not see how he bites at his lip. His one tell that could reveal everything. "Your turn."

"It was rather close to a nine for me, as well, but . . . ," his words run away from him, and for some reason, it pulls my eyes over to him. Before seeing them, I know that the wet trails down his cheeks are what made my heart find him with my eyes. "I feel guilty even thinking about it, let alone saying it, but . . it felt good somehow to go through her things together and pack them away. I don't know how I'll ever not miss her, but it feels like some kind of closure."

His confession comes to me as a surprise, but not one that pulls my hand from his or otherwise. No, it keeps my eyes on his and turns my lips up in a comforting smile.

"Me too," I concur, looking on as a sad smile flashes on his face. It's gone as fast as his hand gets caught in his hair.

"God, I never knew something could be th-this fucking hard," he stammers, pressing his thumbs against his eyes. His overgrown curls move when his head shakes.

"Neither did I," it's a whispered reply, coming just before I'm mentally brought back to the day Myles told me that Harry had been shot. Laying my eyes on his naked torso now, I curse myself for getting used to the pink scars littering his body from that day.

Suddenly, I'm doing it all over again, wondering which day had been the worst of my life. Then or the day I'd been told our baby didn't have a heartbeat anymore. I'd done it how many times now and was never able to decide. I hadn't lost him but I'd lost her, and that's what made the two fateful days so different. Squeezing my eyes shut, I exhale and open them again, deciding that I don't need to rank them. They both were excruciatingly awful in their own ways, and will always be some of the worst days of my life.

"It kind of makes you want to drink, huh?" I say before I know what I'm doing. The guilt is instantaneous despite the honesty filling my words. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-."

"No, you're alright, Becks. You're just speaking the truth and that's what I've wanted for us - to be honest with one another," letting his hand fall from his hair, so do his words from my favorite pair of lips. Turning to lay on his side from being on his back, the bedside lamp sheds light on the black ink covering his skin. "It's made me want to drink so badly, almost as much as when we broke up and all of those other times, so that I could forget. Has it made you want to?"

"Yeah. I was a little mad at you sometimes for it," the admission comes and on its tail end is the guilt, strong and present as ever. His eyes still shine but with that sentence they dull. I blink and it's gone, but the regret pooling from my words doesn't.

"You don't need to feel bad for saying that. I can tell by the look on your face that you are. You can be honest with me, I promise."

"Thanks, and you can with me too. Always, Harry," I respond and the momentous curling of his lips tells me that he heard. "Can I ask . . did you at all . . drink?"

"No," he sighs loudly, dipping his eyes, they fall on my left hand. He'd done it time and time again, and yet, the sensation felt stronger than ever, the way he played with my rings. This time is different though and so is the flash of a smile on his face. "I don't think the urge had ever been stronger, but I resisted. I admit I was close at times, but each time I was, I called my sponsor or Myles. We'd talk for hours in my study, either about you and the baby with My' or about the urge to drink. If I'd had a bottle around here . . God, I knew I'd probably have emptied it and even that thought scares me. I don't want to be like this, Becks." Sniffling, a shiny tear falls from the tip of his nose and onto my knot ring.

"How bad is it today, Harry? Rate it."

"A good seven," he confesses, tearing a hole in my heart when his wet eyes briefly meet mine. "But I had a meeting this morning on Zoom before you were awake, and those have helped a lot. I didn't want to do them at first . . after we'd lost her, but I kept with it, and it made a world of difference . . Myles has really been there for me too- No, don't even say it. Don't apologize again, you have nothing to be sorry for," his words grow murky with tears, ones that I feel against my forehead when his lips sponge a kiss there.

"I would if you'd let me," a weak joke passes my lips and a hint of his chuckle sounds. Holding his eye contact had felt so difficult for so long, but now, I want nothing more than to keep it. "I can't believe I'd forgotten about your meetings, but I'm really glad to hear you've been keeping up with it. Thank you . . But still, I'm so sorry for forgetting about you, and your . . "

"My alcoholism. You can say it, Becks, it's okay. It's not going to upset me . . It's true, I'm an alcoholic. I probably always will be, but hopefully it stays that way, in the past."

Nodding doesn't feel like enough but words escape me, like they so often have recently. I'm saved by the bell, quite literally, when a ding! interrupts our conversation. Rolling onto his stomach, Harry almost looks like a different person with the majority of his tattoos now hidden.

"Oh, yeah," he murmurs, making the bed move when he turns around. "I have yoga tomorrow in the morning."

When his eyes meet mine something in them prods at me, and my feeling sparks, almost knowing what he'll say.

"Would you like to come with? My favorite instructor is back again. I haven't been in ages but think it'd be good to go back, and to get out of the house," Harry proposes, his phone locking with the electronic click! Dropping it onto the covers, he moves around until he's comfortable again, waiting for an answer. "You don't have to if you don't want to, it's just an idea, bug. I don't-."

"Yeah, that'd be nice, actually. It's um, still done with the lights off mostly, right?" I craft my question carefully, waiting for his response that soon confirms my wonderings.

"Yep, as far as I know. So, if it hits us we can do our crying and nobody will know any different."

"Good," is all I say when I thread my arms around his middle, searching for the beating of his heart with my ear.

With the stroking of his fingers through my hair came a relaxation like no other. It was one that I hadn't been able to find in so long.

"Thank you," his words coast over the top of my head, stirring me from my almost sleep. "For coming back to me, Becks."

"Thanks for picking me back up."

"Always," was the last word he spoke before I drifted off to sleep with his lips pressed to my head, humming a song.

Before I opened my eyes, I knew it. I could tell by the sun shining on my face. I hadn't felt that in months, the London winter having descended on us months prior. Gray skies kissed with snow flurries had replaced the robin blue skies I knew that I'd see, the warblers and chickadees singing around me already. Flicking my toes skywards, soft stalks of wheat grass and flower petals tickled my legs. It smelled of sunshine and dirt when I breathed in my surroundings, just like the smells of summer back in Madley.

Already, I knew where I was and that upon opening my eyes what I'd see. Tears already sat underneath my eyelids when I opened them, spilling over my waterline when I knew she'd be there, waiting for me.

I was in heaven, wasn't I?

The trees around me kissed the sky with their golden branches and ripe fruits dangling from their limbs. Not one ivory cloud dotted the sky, the blue of robin's eggs filling it instead. No, that wasn't what my thoughts focused on or fought for. With my eyes, I forgot about them and the warbling brook off in the distance. I searched for her, left and right, and up and down.

But I couldn't find her anywhere. Not behind the towering maples over my shoulder, tucked into the cluster of black eyed susans to my left, or even next to the fawn asleep a few paces away, its mother beside it. They came faster down my cheeks as breaths halted in my lungs, searching for my own baby.

Only could my chest fill again with air when I turned back to face ahead, and by a miracle, there she was. The same olive dress hung down to her knees, and a smile bigger than the last time clung to her rose colored lips. His mouth. His nose too, and most beautiful of all, Harry's sage eyes sat in hers below shoulder length curls the same chestnut shade of his.

"Mummy!" she shouted in a voice dripping with honey, one that covered me all over when her arms came around me.

"Phoebe," I cried into her hair, the smell of Harry's vanilla and notes of citrus surrounding me. My hands shook as they raked through her hair soft as ribbons, and I held on. I never wanted to let go, because I knew that she was my baby. My Phoebe Anne.

Neither did she, even when she pulled away to look into my eyes with her glistening pair. His giggle escaped her lips as I made quick work of the tears painting her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Mummy."

My head couldn't shake faster and my heart couldn't keep up with how it grew at the sight of her. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Sweet Pea, it's nobody's fault."

"I didn't want to leave you and Daddy, Mummy," she confesses in a choked sob, bringing her dainty hand to hold my cheek. I smile back at her, unsure of how my lips could reach so high as I stare at the baby that I'd lost. "But I didn't have a choice."

"It's okay, Pea. I promise. Daddy and I know," my words are shaky, and so are my hands that card through her hair. Tan freckles dot her cheeks and nose, tickled by thick dark lashes donning her eyes. She's real. My Phoebs. "We love you so much, you'll always be our baby girl."

A nod replaces her words before she dives back into my arms again. Her cries sound like muffled squeaks against my front, and if I thought it were fake, her hands caught in the back of my dress confirm it. Her tepid tears soaking through the fabric. Her sunshine warmth against mine, just like his. Harry.

No sooner had I lifted my head and parted my lips, does a tree creaking in the distance catch my attention. Her head lifts too, the same color of her curls appearing from behind its trunk.

"Daddy!" she exclaims. I couldn't mistake it anywhere, the loud laugh that I hear from across the field. It's the one that has filled my dreams and made all of them come true. Peering down at her, her lips are pointed skywards again as she beams at me. "It's Daddy, Mummy! We're together again. A family."

I've blinked and he's only a step away, dimples set deep into his cheeks. Once more, his sunshine is dancing across my face as he looks at me.

"I always knew she'd be beautiful, just like her Mum," Harry remarks

fondly, eyes falling and I follow them. Instead of a young girl wrapped in my arms, a pink baby is cradled in them. The very one I'd found crying in that hospital crib, waiting for me. "Our Phoebe, baby Pea."

Something like a happy hum fills my lips as he takes the last step and wraps an arm around me, the both of us.

"My girls," Harry coos, sponging a kiss to my temple before bending down to press a whispery kiss to our daughter's forehead. It wrinkles at the touch, but she relaxes and continues to stare up at us. Again, his sage greens sit in her eyes as the dimple in her left cheek twinkles when her lips give a smile.

I lean into him, feeling his nose pressed against my temple as she coos, her beautiful face growing hazy in front of my teary eyes.

"It's okay, Becks, we don't have to be broken anymore. She's okay, she'll always be our baby, our daughter. We won't forget her, she knows that, and she won't forget us either. They'll take care of her for us until we come back," he murmurs, lifting my head with his words to find familiar figures walking out of a cluster of oak trees from our left.

"Grandpa Holte," I whisper in amazement, catching the smile on his wrinkled face.

"And mine too," Harry adds when we see his grandfather appear from behind a birch tree. The wind whipping through the trees and the singing of the birds quiets and so does my heart when I see who appears at my grandfather's side.

"Grandma Ann," I hardly hear it myself, the words that I speak caught between tears. The smile framing them grows at the sight of a black goldendoodle bounding towards us, Harry's dog Lola who passed away not long after we'd met.

"They'll take care of her for us," Harry repeats. I see it in his eyes when I reluctantly look away from our family walking towards us. He nods and a corner of his mouth lifts again. "She'll watch over us, Becks, just like they've all been doing. She's our guardian angel, our little Phoebs."

I nod to his words, closing my eyes when his forehead touches mine, resting there. Only do I open them again to look down at the curious baby who remains quiet, reaching a hand over to smooth back her ebony colored hair. His lips graze my forehead once more and I bury my head into his neck, cradling her tiny head.

"It's okay, Mummy," I hear, her honey sweet voice saying in my head. "I'm okay, and you and Daddy will be too. I want you both to be happy, because it's okay to be . . It's okay."

The twinkling of the alarm clock steals me away, and I'm suddenly staring at the ceiling. Soft light peeks in through the curtains, dancing across the walls and duvet cover. Turning my head, I feel the coolness of the pillow graze my cheek as I search for him. As if he knew what I was thinking, his messy head of curls turned towards me. A sleepy smile pulls at his lips, a tired twinkle in his eye.

"You wouldn't believe the dream I just had, Becks. I-It was about . . about the baby. Phoebs."

"Try me," I smile, already feeling the onset of tears as he smiles back at me, them not far off in his eyes either.

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