#nothing additional to say about it right now. just thought i would share. it has helped me a lot through what we've lived through so far.

[metapphjores]

my favorite and most tried and true meditation technique for the last eight years has been listening to nate dimeo's recitation of walt whitmans a song of myself, which he recorded the night before the 2016 election. there's something about it that has always been really centering for me. he recorded it knowing his listeners knew how things would turn out even if he did not. and what he wanted to do with that moment in time recite poetry.

[amarmoria]

Nepenthe

꩜.ᐟ Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Why would your master want a padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Notes: I've seen fics abt padawan reader and none can quench my thirst eugh😫pls note i have nooo idea what goes on in the star wars universe please don't come for me😣

"Hand me that one, fast" He gestured to the purple fruit just beside you, not daring to glance at you. "Yes, sir"

You curiously peeked over your master as you handed the fruit, what was so important it had him rushing like this?

"It's for Mae," he says, the squelching fruit making you frown, you forget he reads minds as easily as breathing. Your frown deepens as you remember. Mae. His acolyte, he took you in a few months before Mae came, that first few months felt like heaven, it was just you and him, in this unknown planet, training, practicing.

Yet, after Mae came, it almost felt like you were some kind of servant for the both of them, he trained with her day and night, leaving you to fend for yourself, he told you it's because you've already been trained by him, that you don't need to anymore, you didn't mind, you got along with Mae... on your perspective that is.

Mae was a fast learner, you were proud of her, now you have someone to share your training with, converse like a normal person, but later you realized that him and her were two sides of the same coin, quiet, mute, they don't like conversations, although you made an effort to be friends with Mae, than you ever did with your master since she was the lesser evil, you're quite proud of yourself when your conversations with her turned from smalls nods and no's to simple phrases.

You didn't care that your master had two Padawans under his belt, that is until he taught her some things he never even told you about, every now and then he would drop hints about what he would teach you next, to prepare you, but this one was unknown to you, you thought, maybe, maybe he forgot to tell you since he was so engrossed in trying to make Mae catch up to you, but Mae didn't just catch up to you, she had already passed way above you, while your stuck on the pedestal she was weeks ago.

"Something on your mind, little bee?" That nickname, he never once gave an explanation on why he calls you that. "No, uh, nothing.. master"

You focus on his muscles grinding the stone bowl.

"I don't think that's nothing"

"I'm fine, really." You bite the inside of your cheeks. "Hm"

You blink, fiddling with the hem of your robes, you let a few seconds pass before speaking up.

"Why.. why does Mae need it?" He halted his movements, and right then and there you almost regretted asking, almost. "She's having nightmares"

He resumed his cooking, although his brief answer didn't provide you with anything, so what? You were having nightmares once too, and he told you to suck it up.

And as if he read your mind, which he did. "I don't want it to hinder her performance, we don't want any distractions during this time of her training."

What about my training? You wanted to yell at him, what about me? Why can't you make me one of your anti-nightmare potions too?

You could only clench your fists, making sure he doesn't hear some of your thoughts, which is hard considering he didn't teach you to, only Mae, along with healing your body by using the force, all her, and your left in the dust.

Your master said using negative emotions is the best fuel for people like them. Them. He told you, him and Mae obvi, you're nowhere near the equation, like an addition symbol in a multiplication question, makes no sense right? Because you make no sense being there when he clearly prioritizes Mae.

"—are you still listening?"

"I, huh," your eyes flutter up to him, frowning when he says nothing but look at you. A few seconds pass with only the both of you staring each other down, I mean, him staring you down with his creepy mask, he suddenly lets go of the pestle, the tool colliding with the mortar loudly.

He was now towering over you, and you realize then how big he was compared to you, it's like a dwarf next to a willow tree. (Guys no matter how big you think you are, Qimir is always bigger✋)

"I can't hear you, but I feel you" oh fuck, you forgot about that. "What is this plaguing your mind?"

Before you could answer, Mae comes running.

"You're back" He focuses on her, you let out a deep breath, for once your relieved Mae came in just a nick of time. "The ship's ready, master"

"Good, let's go" he grabs his robe from behind you. "Finish the potion before we come back"

"Whe, where are you guys going?"

"Nothing of importance, now go." He gestures to the stone bowl, his menacing helmet buzzing in your ears. "Yes, master.."

"Good girl." you couldn't hear his last few mumbles, only registering everything when they left the cave, leaving you alone.

-

You decided that you're gonna make an anti-nightmare potion for yourself too, because why does only Mae get it when you can make one in case you get nightmares?

And the best place to buy ingredients was with the best apothecary in town.

"Qimir?" You knock on the door. "I need to buy things for him, are you there?"

No answer.

"Hellooo?"

You pouted and turned around, now everyone's busy when you're not, you wanted to wait for a few more seconds but people might think you're crazy for trying to buy from an abandoned pharmacy, your master told you Qimir was there anytime you needed something to use for missions, but now that you don't go to missions, you love to annoy the clumsy pharmacy owner.

"Hey, wait!"

You tried to stop the smile creeping to your face when you hear the door bust open.

"I'm here!" He yelled, you turned around and waved, a big smile covering your face. "What took you so long?"

"What do you mean?" He playfully shrugged. "Been here since forever"

You felt more comfortable with him, you don't have to have to tiptoe around him unlike with the other, you liked to tease him about not taking a bath and for looking like a ragged hobo.

"What are you doing here though?" His eyebrows furrowed as you skip to him, you gave him a warm smile once again before making your way inside. "I need some things for him."

He frowned.

"Things? He didn't tell me he needed anything when they passed here."

"Well he told me, so go fetch it for me, servant" you chuckle and hit him on the bicep, he fakes a cry before hesitating to open the shelves.

"Here's the list of his majesty needs"

"His majesty?" He laughs, you just love making him laugh, maybe it's just you, or maybe you're just alone, but if there's anyone in the world you're going to survive an apocalypse with, it's Qimir.

"Uh huh, he keeps barking orders, finish this, finish that before we get home nyeh nyeh nyeh"

He chuckles once again. "Are you sure about telling me that? I might just snitch and get a promotion."

You feign an insulted look. "You don't dare"

"Oh but I do"

You both sat there laughing, forgetting about what you were here for. You clutch your tummy and struggle to inhale air.

"I can't— stop—" you burst out laughing once again, your face heating up, the tears in your eyes now brimming full.

"No no don't die on me" He jokes, you can see him staring, you wanted to look at him like that, shameless, but you can't stand looking at him for more than 3 seconds without blushing.

"Really?" He mumbles, but you heard him, clear as day. "What?"

"I, I mean, really h-huh? You can't stop laughing?" He waved both his hands in the air.

"You weirdo"

"Oh so now I'm the weirdo?"

"Uh huh"

"Since when?!"

"Since we met"

"Says the person who keeps barging in my shop"

"You like it though right?" You look up at him expectantly. "Like w-what?"

You gesture with your hands. "This?"

"This what?"

"You're always alone here, you must be grateful that I always visit."

"Yeah, always"

"What does that mean!" You put your hands on your waist. "It means you're always here, so you're like an everyday occurance by now"

You roll your eyes as he finishes up the list.

"Here's the last one—" you frown as he pauses. "What?"

"Isn't this," he picks up the list again. "It's for.."

You gulp, your fingers fumble with the wooden seat.

"N-no, no, it's not" you avert your eyes from him, the floor looking a little more interesting today.

"It's for nightmares isn't it?"

"I don't know, he only gave the list, nothing else."

"It is for nightmares, why do you need these?"

"I don't know, it's not for me." You clench your fists. "If it was for him he'd tell me himself"

Your eyes try to find something, anything, to tell him.

"I think it's for Mae okay? Maybe, maybe she's having nightmares and, and maybe he doesn't want it to distract her.."

"But I al—" he pauses, his jaw flexing. "I already gave him these."

His eyes narrow on you, like a deer in the headlights you could only look away.

"Tell me?" His soft voice lures you to him. "Are you having them?"

"No.." you sigh, do you tell him you're making the potion out of spite for your master? For making one for Mae and not for you, ugh it all sounds childish now, before you left you had a plan, and now you look like a child caught.

"Just—" you let out a deep breath. "Give it, and I'll be on my way"

He stares at you for a moment, before placing everything in a small pouch. You thanked him and left the credits on the table before hurriedly leaving, you could still feel his stare at the back of your head.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + two

authors note: wow! so humbled by people's interest in this one! forgot to mention that i'll be playing around with joe's career, in terms of the timeline and whatnot.

also, if ya'll ever watched the bernie mac show, i was very much inspired in one section by that scene where vanessa and them was doing that car wash at bernie's house lmaooo

in addition (last point, i swear lmao), i can do faceclaims for the character, mainly mariella's family. if ya'll want. i know some people prefer to visualize for themselves. just lmk.

i don't own any lyrics used.

previous chapter

words: 7k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language, fluff, some angst, blink and you'll miss it sexy time.

Spring, 2005

Spring break.

The time looked forward to by most students, especially college students, who are granted a free week to get into all kinds of trouble, mischief and then return to campus like nothing ever happened. 

Joe and Byron can’t deny that they’ve definitely had their fair share of that the first part of college, but now with two years under their belts and only two years left to go, they’re focused on having killer seasons and landing their dreams of going into the NFL.

It’s why when coach decides to give the players a break, canceling all practices during said break, there’s not even an initial question about what they should do with their time.

Home.

They’re going home.

Because while being away is nice at times, there’s absolutely no place like home and being surrounded by the people you love the most.

Byron glances at Joe who’s looking down at his phone. “You gonna see Brianna while we in town?”

Joe looks up. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Brianna, Joe’s last high school girlfriend, was inarguably the easiest of all the girls he’s ever dated. And if not for him not wanting to be tied down while away at college, he would have tried to make it work. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m definitely hitting up Tamia. Heard she and ole’ dude broke up.”

Joe shakes his head. Tamia has been Byron’s on and off girlfriend since freaking middle school. They date, break up, date other people, break up with said other people and start right back over. Truthfully, Joe can see Tamia being the one for Byron considering how long they’ve been in this little cycle. 

“Just make sure you’re safe, man.”

Byron looks like he’s just been told to make sure he wears a seatbelt. “Always, bro. You know me.”

Joe knows him alright. Knows he can be reckless at times. And with so much at stake in the next upcoming two years, they can’t afford to be reckless. 

“I do. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Man….” Joe laughs at Byron’s dismissal. “What do we have here?” Joe turns his attention to where Byron has set his gaze only to quickly scowl with disgust. “Ugh, they in high school.”

Joe is also instantly repulsed. “That’s fucking gross.” 

Byron shakes in his seat, as if trying to shake the disgust off himself when he sees something. “Wait a minute…” Joe again tries to see what’s triggered the exclamation of irritation. “Oh hell no.”

“What are you—what the hell!” Joe shouts out as Byron suddenly swerves into the next turn lane, barely missing hitting a car. “The fuck are you doing, man!”

“That’s Ella out there!” He answers, speeding near the station where a bunch of high school girls are operating a car wash, trying to raise money for who knows what. 

At the mention of Ri, Joe’s attention is snatched. “What?” He’s looking around as Byron looks to quickly park the truck, clearly eager to get out. Joe doesn’t see her just yet. It’s not until they’re parked and out of the car that his eyes land on her.

Her smile is the first thing he notices. She’s laughing. Not surprising. For as long as he’s known her, which has been his whole life essentially, she’s always the one in the group to make everyone laugh.

Usually from her klutziness. 

It’s never a dull moment with Mariella Holmes. 

Moving closer, he can see that it’s definitely Ri, and she’s giggling along with the other girls, dancing to what he recognizes is Black Eyed Peas latest song, “My Humps.”

It’s that realization that helps Joe understand why Byron is so annoyed.

The dancing could be seen as a bit provocative.

“Ella!”

Her head snaps up at Byron’s voice, easily landing on him. Joe watches her mouth drop open in shock before she shouts, “BJ!”

Dropping the soapy rag in the bucket, she’s nearly sprinting over to the two of them, tackling Byron with a hug first. “What are you doing here?”

It’s when she steps back that she moves over to him. She smirks, crossing her arms. “Should have known you wouldn’t turn down a chance to come see me.”

Joe laughs, pulling her in for a hug. “Never.”

“What am I doing here?” Byron cuts in, angrily gesturing to her. “What are you doing out here dressed like this?”

She looks down at her outfit, frowning. Joe does the same. It’s a bathing suit top with jean shorts and flip flops. What’s so bad about that?

And she expresses as such.

“Ummm, the dance team is having a car wash. We’re trying to raise money for travel costs this season.”

This doesn’t seem acceptable to Byron as he asks, “well, you ain’t having nothing else to wear? All exposed and everything.”

That’s when she rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” 

He starts to pull his shirt off when even Joe chimes in, “dude, come on.”

“She’s half naked!”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit, BJ.” Mariella says it like he’s slow. Like he was on the short bus. “I know you’ve been away at school, so you haven’t been around as much, but I have boobs now—”

At that, both Joe and Byron turn up their nose. The last thing they need is that type of visual.

She continues, gesturing to her body. “I hit puberty, and allll the areas started filling out. It happens!”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Byron covers his mouth. “I don’t give a damn. You’re sixteen, not twenty-one.”

She gives a sly smile. “That’s not what my fake ID says.”

Joe catches her gaze, seeing that she’s just messing with him. It makes him laugh. 

“Your what? Girl, you done lost your damn mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, BJ. You know I can’t get a fake ID. My dumbass would feel too bad and turn myself in.”

“That’s true,” Joe chimes, and she glares, reaching over to hit him. She starts to say something, only for her eyes to go wide. “What’s wrong?”

She says nothing, just awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. He starts to ask again when a new voice joins the conversation. 

“Hey, babe.”

Byron jumps to a new level of annoyance. “Babe?” He and Joe watch as some scrawny looking little boy, who’s really not that scrawny in actuality but looks it compared to Byron and Joe, walks up to Mariella, kissing her. 

Byron looks like he’s about to have a stroke. He asks with all the smoke. “Who the hell are you?” 

Scrawny scoffs and has the audacity to throw the question back at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my god.” Mariella murmurs, slapping her hand against her forehead. “BJ, this is my boyfriend, Derrick—”

Mariella having a boyfriend makes sense to Joe. She’s 16 now. Why wouldn’t she be dating? It’s normal and expected. 

If only Byron saw it that way. “Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boy—”

“Derrick, this is my brother, BJ or Byron, and basically like my non-blood brother, Joe.”

Scrawny AKA Derrick looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Oh shit, my bad—”

If only he knew that Byron doesn’t forgive nor does he forget when it comes to his little sisters, especially Mariella. 

He steps toward the shorter young man. “Naw. You bad. You wanted to know who the hell I was, so let me tell you, I’m the nigga that’s gon fuck you up if you ever—”

“Byron!” Mariella is now fuming, grabbing him by his arm as she tugs him in a different direction. “Give us a couple minutes.” She flashes a sweet smile at Derrick and a pleading expression to Joe for him to also be nice.

Joe waits until they’re out of hearing distance. He then slaps Derrick on the arm. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just Byron. He’s always been a hothead.”

Derrick gives a nervous laugh, showing off braces that Joe didn’t notice before. He refrains from frowning. Ri could definitely do better than this dweeb. “You like Ri?”

Derrick shrugs, offering an unimpressive. “She’s alright.”

And that’s all Joe needs to hear to know what this kid is really about. Stepping toward him, he keeps his voice leveled and expression ice cold. “Do anything to hurt her, and you won’t have to worry about Byron.” He gives a steel smile. “I’m the one you’ll never see coming.”

———-

Present 

Post-traumatic amnesia (PTA) 

Or some milder form of it. 

Amnesia, at the very least.

That’s what Dr. Reynolds says is the cause of Mari’s complete loss of memory. A result of the head trauma she received from the accident. A prognosis that somehow feels almost worse than the coma, at least to Joe.

Because for the life of him, he doesn’t know how to look at the woman he’s known his entire life, and have her look back at him like he’s a stranger, like she has no idea who he is. 

Because she doesn’t have any idea who he is.

As devastating as that blow is, he knows it hits harder for her parents. April nearly collapsed in Byron Sr’s arms as Dr. Reynolds informed them of Mari’s memory loss.

She was in tears, desperately asking, “but—but she’ll get them back, right, doctor?”

And Joe only has to glance at the doctor, the way his lips press together before he informs sympathetically, “we don’t know. Some patients do eventually retrieve their memories. Others….others never do.”

Joe can’t even allow himself to think of the latter option. 

A couple days post coma, he knocks on her door, seeing she’s alone, her parents most likely grabbing food or something.

She glances at the door offering a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s insincere, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that either, because one of the things he’s always loved about her has always been her smile. So big and infectious. Just like her personality. 

“Hey.” There’s nothing big and infectious about her almost unsure tone. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for her to welcome him in, just walks in, taking the seat on the side of her bed. “How you feeling?”

She gives a one sided shrug. He notices the cuts and bruising on her face have gone down tremendously. That's a plus in a situation full of minuses. “Don’t know.” After obviously thinking about the question more, she offers a more descriptive answer. “Very...confused.”

“About?” He then adds. “Maybe I can clear it up for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s….it’s mostly about who I am.” He could definitely answer that one for her. She shakes her head, providing an example. “Like, I’m apparently this big singer, but I can’t even think about singing right now. It doesn’t—it doesn’t even feel like me.” She chuckles bitterly. “Not that I know who me is.”

“You love music. Always have. And you’re good at it. Singing. Writing. Producing. Dancing. All of it.” She looks over at him as he says with all the honesty and sincerity, “there’s nothing, creatively, you can’t do.”

Mariella nods, as if taking in the information to analyze later on. “What about you?” She asks. “What do you do?”

A lot of things. A lot of things he now regrets deeply. But, that’s not her question. “Professional wrestler.” He starts to say WWE to see if she knows what that is, but that isn’t important. Shit about him isn’t the priority. 

Mariella looks him over, nodding. “It fits.”

He smiles a bit. The first he’s done in weeks. “What else do you want to know?”

She’s quiet for a few moments before asking the question he didn’t know he was dreading until now. “How did I end up here?”

What a loaded question he was absolutely not prepared for.

There’s a lot of things that led them to where they are right now. A lot of which he blames himself for, and her as well, but not nearly as much as he blames himself. They both played a role in how badly their relationship deteriorated, but Joe puts the bulk of it on himself. 

He’s older and should know better.

But, the specific incident that resulted in her accident, the blowout that ended with her requesting the one thing she always swore she never wanted to have happened when they got married…that’s it.

That is the truth she is probably looking for. It’s a truth, however, he can’t find it in him to tell her.

Because selfishly, he doesn’t want that to be the thing to trigger her memories, or any memories of all the things that have gone so terribly wrong the past two years. He doesn’t want that for her.

Doesn’t want it for them.

It’s why he settles on an answer that’s neither a lie but also not the full truth.

“You had a lot on your mind and went for a drive.” His voice shifts into something quiet. He’s still trying to process his feelings about that part of this whole thing. “You were hit head on by a drunk driver.”

Silence.

For a brief second, he’s unsure if he should have just told the truth. Been honest with her and let the cards fall as they may.

And then she speaks.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks up. Joe sees it. That sense of humor that some could only take in doses, but for him, it’s always been a highlight. She’s always been able to put a smile on his face even in the darkest of his days. “How long have we been married?”

Another unexpected question, but he answers truthfully. “This March makes 11 years.”

“Wow.” This seems to take her by surprise. “And how long have we been together?”

“That….that’s a bit of a long story.”

She lifts her brow, gesturing to her hospital bed. “Not like I have anywhere to be.”

He chuckles. She has a point, but the story of them…that seems too complicated or detailed to share in a freaking hospital. Because in his mind, he’s started to sort the different ways and things he can do to help remind her of who she is. 

Of who they were. 

Finally, he answers, “I just—I think you should—” 

There’s a knock on the door, Joe turning to see April and Byron Sr.

April is the first to speak, walking over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She’s almost hesitant to move too close. Joe can see she wants nothing more to engulf her youngest in a hug but recognizes the same almost uncomfortable expression Mariella wore the minute he walked in.

“It’s okay.” He assures, going to stand up. “I’ll leave you guys—”

“Actually,” Byron Sr. interjects, shooting Joe a sympathetic expression. “We were hoping to speak with you.” He looks toward Mariella, and Joe hates it. Hates the almost discomfort that exists between them. She’s always been super close with her parents. Especially her dad. “If that’s alright, sweetheart?”

Mariella shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Sure.” She starts to lay back in her bed a little. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

Joe wonders how much of that is truth, and how much of it is her just wanting to be alone from people who are virtual strangers.

Strangers…

That’s definitely a word he never thought could be used in any context regarding Mariella.

Once outside the room and in the private waiting area, her parents wait until a set of nurses pass before April is the first to speak. She reaches over and places a comforting hand. “How are you doing, Joe? Really?”

A mess. He’s a fucking mess. Joe has seen much, much better days than the past few weeks. But, he also doesn’t want to make this about him, about his mental state, so he provides a half truth.

“Been better.” His response is gruff as he quickly moves to change topics. “What about you guys?”

Having his wife have no idea who he is is brutal, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it’s been like for two parents to not have their youngest child recognize them, to have no idea who they are.

Byron Sr. is the first to answer, mirroring his son-in-law’s words. “Been better.” 

April shifts in her seat, bringing her hand back to her lap. “We umm—we spoke to Dr. Reynolds earlier today.”

Joe looks up, partially wondering why he wasn’t present for that meeting. “Okay.”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Joe. Not her childhood. Not her family. Not…not even us.” April voice breaks at the end of her statement as Joe looks away. Hearing this again isn’t exactly helpful, though he would never disrespect her parents by asking them to shut up. Even if it’s what he wants. “And we—well, we just think—”

Byron Sr. cuts in, hand on his wife’s knee. “We want to take her back home with us, Joe.” Joe’s stomach drops. “We want to take her back to Florida.”

———-

Spring, 2022

Cameras.

That’s the one thing Mariella, Mari, still struggles to get used to. The bright lights flashing in her face as her photo is taken, whether on the red carpet, on the stage, or even when she’s just making a run to the grocery store. The latter one hasn’t happened as much as it used to, for which she’s grateful, but still.

So there’s a bit of an adjustment as she looks around the room, the hair and makeup team touching up her face once more before they kick off the segment.

She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret it at all. It’s a good look for him. For her too. And beyond any type of benefit for their careers, she’s just happy she gets to see him.

Because that’s the part she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly get over or be okay with.

The distance.

As directed, she walks down the hall, making sure not to look directly into the camera. This is made infinitely easier by pretending she’s shooting a music video. Which, truth be told, it isn’t very different. 

Mari wears the confused expression perfectly, looking down at her phone as if it has information that could help her when she ‘accidentally�� walks into him.

Head up, she gasps and immediately gets to apologizing, just as was in the script. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

His eyes widen as he ‘realizes’ who she is. “Wow. No, you are absolutely fine. Wow. You’re Mari!”

Smiling, she points at him, “and you are…..”

He seems a bit taken back at first, like he’s waiting for her to also recognize him. When that doesn’t happen, he offers his hand. “Sami Zayn. Master strategist and locker room leader.”

She nods, perfectly conveying another confused look at just what that means. “Does—does that mean you’re good with directions? Cause I suck at them.”

“It absolutely does, and you are in luck, because I just so happen to be free right now and would love to give you a tour.”

She opens her mouth to protest, “oh, that’s so sweet, but I really should—” she looks down at her phone. “You know what, I’m a little early, so why not?”

“Awesome.” He claps his hands together and offers his arm. Mari smiles and links hers in his as he starts leading them down the hall, pointing out the most obvious of things. 

The camera cuts, and she engages in conversation with Sami, who’s actually a lot like the ‘character’ he plays. Super charismatic and engaging. Kinda reminds her of herself. So much so that before she realizes, they’re back to recording after having moved across the arena. 

“And lastly we have—” His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes where they are, Sami moving his hand to her back as he directs them in the opposite direction. “Wait, we do not want to go—”

“There it is!” Mari, however, is smiling brightly as she walks toward the door.

Sami looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, frantically warning, “Mari, I know you’re like an international mega star, but trust me, you do not want to bother that man—” He’s silenced by her knocking on the door. 

His face is turning red as he urgently whispers to her, “we should really get out of here. Like right now!.”

She turns to him, confused. “Why?”

And before Sami can respond, the door is ripped open, the scowling faces of the Usos the first thing Sami lands on. He’s preparing to get chewed out only for them to look at Mari and instantly start smiling.

“Whassup, Mari!” Jimmy is the first to greet her, pulling her in for a hug. Followed by Jey, the two of them engaging in some secret handshake that ends with a ‘Yeet’.

Sami, however, laughs nervously, gesturing between the three. “Wait, you—you guys know Mari?”

Jimmy answers, slinging his arm around her. “Man, of course. This family!”

“You’re related to them?” Sami asks, eyes wide. 

Mari opens her mouth to answer when another person emerges from the private locker room, taking up almost the entire door frame, face stoic and eyes cold. 

Sami looks like he’s about to piss himself. He swallows. “My Tribal Chief, I’m so sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Mari who smiles and pulls away from Jimmy to walk up to Roman.“Hi, baby.” Sami looks on stunned as she leans up and kisses his cheek, pressing her body into his, hand on his abs. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” She grins over at Sami. “Sami was giving me a tour of the place.”

The reddening of his cheeks is about what and what with the red of his hair. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Playfully rolling her eyes as Roman continues to look like he’s contemplating murder, she lifts her left hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. “Roman’s my husband.”

Mouth open like a child who just found out Santa isn’t real, Sami does his best to reel in his surprise. “Of course, you’re married. I totally knew that!” He laughs nervously, hands on his hips. “That’s why I gladly brought you to the Tribal Chief myself. Wanted to ensure nothing but the best for the Bloodline’s first lady.”

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you.” She continues to smile, and Roman continues to send daggers with just one, stolid expression. Mari peers up, kissing him again as she reaches for his hand. “Come on.” She tugs him toward the inside of the locker room, Roman finally budging as he gives Sami one last look that has the redhead contemplating requesting a switch to Raw. 

However, as Jimmy and Jey go to follow along with their cousin, Roman is quick to slam the door in their faces. 

“Hey, Uce, uhhh,—” Jimmy tries to jangle the knob only to realize it’s locked. He starts knocking. “Roman! Hey, you gon let us in?”

A couple seconds later the door does open, but it’s Solo, followed by Paul Heyman. Wise Man closes the door behind him. He looks around, briefly bewildered and clears his throat, announcing, “The Tribal Chief has requested to be left alone this evening.” 

Sami is the only one to laugh, playfully shoving Solo and pointing to the locker room. “I bet he has.” Solo, however, also looks like he’s also contemplating murder. Sami coughs awkwardly and turns to walk away, just as the camera crew announces ‘cut’.

The remaining men share laughs about the promo, meanwhile inside the locker room Mariella relishes in the feel of being reunited with her husband in real life, and now in the WWE kayfabe verse.

She’s pressed against his body, arms around his neck with his locked around her waist, holding her to him. “Hey, Big Daddy.”

Roman, Joe, rolls his eyes. Mariella giggles. She knows he has such a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment, one of many she has for the massive man before her. “You miss me?”

He makes a sound, leaning down to connect their lips. “Always, baby.” 

She smiles into their kiss, “good answer.” His big hands venture down to squeeze her ass, Mariella moaning into his mouth which triggers something for him. He lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he goes to sit back down in the big leather chair. Joe’s tongue entering her mouth is enough to elicit another moan but also alert her to the fact of where he wants to take this.

“Baby, we cannot do the nasty at your job.”

“I don’t know why you still call it that.” His fake irritation makes her giggle. It’s an inside joke between them that she’ll never let die so long as she lives. “And who says we can’t?”

“I don’t know. The FCC?” He rolls his eyes as she grasps at his beard that she can tell he dyed recently. Most likely because of his job. She wishes he could leave it be. She likes the gray. It does….things to her. “Besides, you know the deal. If we do it right now, we can’t do it tonight.” He continues to move his hands across her ass. “Mama’s got a show this Sunday, and I’d rather not be rendered immobile because my husband impaled me on his big ole’ dick.”

Again, Joe rolls his eyes, even though there’s more truth to her statement than the typical playful jokes she cracks at any given time. Joe has a high sex drive. She’s known this for some years. Mariella, however, does not. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It’s that her husband doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to come, make her come one time for the one time, and just be done with it.

No. This man wants rounds. And truthfully, she just doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. Outside of porn stars, she doesn’t know who would.

Man is an absolute beast.

“So damn dramatic,” he chuckles against her neck. “You know I be doing most of the work anyway.”

She opens her mouth to protest. “Okay, that may or may not be true.” She can feel him smiling against her. It’s not like he minds. Joe is dominant in the sheets, wanting to be in control at all times. Her preference given he’s much more well versed in the sexual arts than she is. “But, in my defense, you’re built like a Greek god.” A Samoan god. “I get winded walking up the staircase in our house.”

“Bullshit.” He pulls back, pointing out. “You be on that stage dancing your ass off for damn near three hours.” 

She rolls her eyes, murmuring, “okay, that also may or may not be true.” Mari’s eyes flutter as he moves his hand under her dress. Long, thick fingers easily pushing aside her underwear, feeling the pool of her arousal. She squeezes his shoulders. “Joe….”

He grunts almost, gliding his fingers across her wet folds. She exhales sharply. “You this wet already and really want me to think you don’t want Big Daddy to fuck this tight lil’ pussy?”

Whining against him, Mariella unconsciously tries to move around on his lap to get his fingers back on her. In her, preferably. And it’s when he enters one of those deliciously talented fingers inside of her gushy opening, she caves. “Fine.” He smirks as she warns, “but you’re pushing me around in the wheelchair after!”

———-

Between a rock and a hard place.

That’s how Joe has felt the past few weeks, maybe even longer. But especially now.

He knows Ri’s parents are right. That they have every right to want her to spend time at home with them, in the place where she grew up, where most of her formative years and subsequent formative memories lie. Logically, it makes sense.

But, he can’t seem to get past his discomfort at the fact that Ri won’t be getting discharged and coming home with him. No, she’ll be discharged and hop on a plane with them back to Florida. Selfishly, he was hoping the doctor wouldn’t clear her to fly, but that plan went out the window. Dr. Reynolds is clearly on the same page with her parents about the potential benefit of being around constant triggers. Triggers that could help generate memories.

And Joe isn’t against that. At all. 

It’s just the fact that he won’t be there that rubs him the right way. 

“Joe.”

His eyes shut, an instant headache coming on. This is the last thing he needs. 

Turning around, he’s met with Olivia “Liv” Holmes default stare of icy indifference. Out of all of Mariella’s siblings, her family in general, Liv has always been his least favorite.

For a lot of different reasons. The main one being how she always treated Mariella when they were younger. Not mean, per se. But not kindly either. She always acted like Mariella was annoying, and she definitely could be at times, but not to the extent that Liv made it seem.

Like Mariella was just this big nuisance. It’s part of the reason she always wanted to hang out with him and Byron when they were growing up, because Liv spent most of her time with her twin sister, Everly, and her own friend group.

“Liv.” He really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone her. Their interactions have always been brief and limited to what is essential. For good reason too.

“I take it my parents told you we’re taking Ella back home to Florida with us.”

Joe has to bite back a smartass comment. Liv’s smirk and the almost smug tone of her voice isn’t what he needs right now.

“Yes.” He matches her energy a bit, reminding. “For the first couple weeks, at least. Then I’m going to bring her back home with me.” 

Where she belongs.

Liv smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “We’ll see.”

Joe gives her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know she called me.” He freezes. “The night of the accident.” Joe manages to keep a calm face despite his surprise at her words. Mariella has never been close with Liv, most of their communication occurring via texts and family group chats. 

There’s only one reason she would call her sister who happens to be a divorce attorney.

“I want a divorce.”

Liv continuing to speak is ironically appreciated, as it pulls him from the memories of what is now an infamous argument. “I was sleeping and missed her call, but she didn’t leave a message. Kinda wishing she did, because I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing out on the road that late at night.” 

He keeps his cool. Somehow. “I already told you—”

“I know what you said, Joe.” Her interruption is sharp. “I also don’t believe you, because what the hell could she have so heavy on her mind after winning 5 Grammys?” She crosses her arms. “It doesn’t make sense.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues her accusatory assault. “You seem to forget that we were in high school together, Joe. I know how you were.” At this, he can’t say anything, can’t necessarily defend himself against truth. “You and Byron fucked damn near half the girls in our school, probably at college too, and then all of a sudden you turn in your hoe card to be with my baby sister? Because you love her? I never bought that shit for a minute.”

While he can’t deny his promiscuous past, Joe isn’t about to stand here and let this woman act like he’s this horrible person who took advantage of Mariella. “What’s your point, Liv? Huh? I’m not fucking stupid. I know you never approved of me being with Ri, but just like I didn’t give a fuck then, I still don’t give a fuck now.”

Liv does relatively well hiding her disapproval among her family, to some extent. But Joe has always been hip to her truth. She thinks Mariella should have gotten with someone else, anyone else probably. Anyone who wasn’t him.

Liv, who has never done well with being challenged, steps forward, glare intense and purposeful. “I’m gonna find out what happened that night, Joe. Because I know there’s something you’re not telling us.” He keeps up his unreadable expression, though there’s a small chunk of guilt swimming around the back of his head. Not even about not being completely honest with Mariella’s family.

More about not being honest with her.

She lowers her voice. “And when I do find out—”

“Liv.”

Joe and Liv turn to see Byron Jr. standing before them with a disappointed expression.

Arms crossed, he steps toward them, focused more on Liv than Joe. “Don’t be starting no shit today, alright? This the last thing we need.”

In recent years, especially since becoming a father, BJ has matured from his hotheaded days, often even a voice of reason. One of the reasons he’s been voted Locker Room captain for his team, the 49ers, 3 years in a row.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been blinded by your friendship with him—”

“Hey.” Byron raises his voice a bit. “I mean it. You blaming people doesn’t change what happened, and you know damn well Ella would have a fit at you coming at Joe like this.”

Not really. Maybe before. Before everything collapsed so tragically between the two of them.

“Whatever.” She gives a final almost warning glare to the two of them before stalking off, probably to go see Mariella.

BJ places a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder once she’s gone. “You good, man?” 

Not at all. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. 

BJ gives a sad smile. “Don’t let Olevil get to you.” Her nickname from back when they were in high school makes Joe chuckle. “You going back to work next week?”

Joe blows out a breath. That hasn’t even crossed his mind the past couple weeks. He doesn’t even really know what storyline they came up with to cover his absence. Nor does he care really. “I haven’t even thought about that, man.”

“I think you should.” And before Joe can protest, Byron lifts his hand. “Hear me out. She’s gonna be with our parents for a few weeks, so you know she’ll be in good hands. What you gon’ do while she’s gone? Sit around the house sad and moping and shit? You know she would be chewing you out for that, telling you that you gotta get back in the game.”

Joe gives a bit of a smile. Byron is right. Knowing Mariella, she’d have a whole theatrical ass presentation as to why he should return to work, song and dance included. 

“Yeah…”

Byron slaps him on his shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?” 

Joe nods, because he will. And not for himself, not even for his job, because he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now.

But for Mariella.

His Ri. 

Because she’ll always be his Ri.

And he’s determined to make sure she doesn’t forget it this time.

———-

Spring, 2022 [cont.]

“Baby!” It’s a distant voice that becomes closer as it's repeatedly conjoined with a small hand shaking at his shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

And he does. Eyes fluttering open, his vision is blurred initially, gradually clearing up to reveal the face of his beautiful wife. Cognizant of his surroundings, Joe realizes she’s sitting on top of him, notebook and pen in hand.

He smiles. It’s been a while since she’s woken him up for this. And while he’ll regret it in the morning, he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for these little callbacks to when they were broke, living in a crappy apartment, trying to chase the dream as inspiration struck her at all hours of the night. And she would wake him up, wanting his feedback. 

He didn’t really mind then. 

And he doesn’t really mind now.

That’s just his Ri.

Eyes squinting, she asks, “you up?”

He chuckles, also enjoying the sight of her straddling him wearing only his shirt. “Yes, baby. I’m up.”

“About time,” she complains, and he rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. “I’m feeling inspired.” She says it while giving almost jazz hands, pretty brown eyes landing back on him. “Wanna hear the lyrics?”

He yawns, glancing at the digital clock that reads 2:37AM. “What else would I be doing at this time?”

She glares. “Is that sarcasm I detect, mister? Is it my fault my musical muse comes alive at night? That she flourishes when most—”

“Ri.”

“Huh?”

He closes his eyes. Joe loves Mariella with everything in him, but he’s not in the mood for one of her theatrical tangents at damn near 3 o’clock in the morning. “Lyrics.”

“Oh! Right!” Chuckling, he watches as she reads over whatever she’s written to herself at first. A bit of a habit. She’s always initially self-conscious about her lyrics. “Now, it’s just off the top of my head, so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice to you, Ri.” It’s the truth. As annoyed as he can get sometimes, she’s never been on that list. “And I’m sure it’s fine.” 

She smiles appreciatively, slightly taking him by surprise as she quietly sings the lyrics versus just reading them to him.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

Finished, she looks down at him, expectantly, “well?”

“I love it.” He loves most of what she writes though. He especially loves to hear her sing. “What inspired it?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about us. About how far we come.” She shrugs, his hands rubbing circles on her hips. “Your show was sold out tonight, Joe. Mine is sold out too. Like, we both sold out Madison Square Garden. That feels almost too perfect to be true.”

He makes a sound. “But, it is, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily and asks in a partial hypothetical tone. “We’re like really hot shit, huh?” Joe chuckles as she gasps and places her tablet down on his chest, quickly writing something down. He says nothing, having been with her for so long that none of her quirky ways really surprise him anymore.

“Also.”

“Also?”

She glares but moves to place the notebook and pen on the nightstand, resting her hands on his chest. “I was thinking about our conversation earlier…” He’s quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her sentence even if it does have him a bit on edge. He’s never been good with waiting. “Let’s do it.”

Her answer takes him by surprise. “You sure?”

She nods, tugging at his beard. “We’re not getting any younger.” She giggles, eyes playfully narrowing. “Especially you, old man.” 

At that, he sucks his teeth. “Who you calling old?” He squeezes her side, and she squeals. He knows that’s where she’s ticklish. She falls out, laughing, and he takes the advantage of her being distracted to flip them so she’s flat on her back. “Naw, say it again. I ain’t hear you.”

“Joe, stop,” she giggles as he hovers over her, tickling her until she pushes back against his shoulder. He grabs her hand, restricting her when she opens her eyes. Her laughter quietly dies down when their eyes lock. 

Love. 

So much love.

Joe leans down and connects their lips, softly, slowly, just as meaningful as any other kiss they’ve shared. She moans into his mouth, feeling his hardened length graze against her opening, her essence already making its way down her inner thighs.

He feels this too, groaning and lifting her thigh to widen her as he carefully enters her, watching her arch her back at the entrance. She whimpers, hands moving around his shoulders.

He kisses her wrist, watching the pleasure on her face as he gives her deep strokes, slow and plunging, just how he knows she likes it. “Shhhh….let me take care of you, baby.”

And he does.

He always has.

He always will.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

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Everyone has their favorite cousin; for you, it's Sabrina.

A year younger than you, she shines brighter than any star. Whenever Aunt came to visit, the two of you would escape to worlds of your own creation.

In the comfort of your childhood backyard, two pink napkins were laid out, creating the perfect setting for a whimsical tea party. Cookies and toy cups waited on the makeshift tables. She would always wear her little crown that she never forgot to bring, and you would eagerly gather your beloved stuffed animals to join the celebration as additional guests.

Born to a single teenage mother—who, in Mother's eyes, was the height of irresponsibility, “unfit” for motherhood—Sabrina was forever shrouded in your mother's harsh judgment that "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." That she would follow in her mother's footsteps, and it wouldn't be so surprising.

But Sabrina was far from the “troubled child,” grew into a girl warmer than the summer sun, kinder than the gentle grace of spring.

Sabrina was your favorite cousin, the one you wished could maintain the kind of closeness you shared during your youth. However, just as everything good in your life, fate always had a way of destroying it.

When Sabrina’s mother married a kind, steady man after years, it was as if a switch flipped inside Mother. Gone was any goodness she had shown to her sister and Sabrina. Any invitation from Sabrina’s mom was met with excuses—"we were too busy,” “it wasn’t a good time.” Lies, more lies. The real reason was far more simple: it was the bitter, green-eyed jealousy.

Mother always did crave pity and attention from others. But the pity she received from family after Father left wasn’t the kind she wanted.

It symbolizes her failure—now, a single mother struggling when her sister thrived with her loving husband and another baby on the way. And when Sabrina’s stepfather agreed to pay for Sabrina to start taking ballet classes like you, Mother took it as competition.

She had made ballet your personal hell.

While Mother brags about your ballet success, flaunting ribbons and reviews, her pride has a price behind closed doors. Nothing is enough to satisfy her, and the standards she holds for you reach for the impossible. Every competition is followed by a barrage of criticism—you could have placed higher, pointed your toes more.

Third place? "You’re wasting my money, girl." Second place earns you a dismissive "Second only means you’re second best." Even first place yields her saying, "Don’t get a big head over a stupid ribbon. It doesn't mean you're the best; it just means everyone else was worse."

Just as everything is good in your life, fate always has a way of destroying it.

(Or is it your mother?)

The old, naïve part of your mind argues that she's doing this for your own good. After all, diamonds aren’t made without pressure—a familiar refrain she repeats every time you beg her to stop, every time you sob so intensely that you struggle to breathe, feeling like a sacrificial lamb. And every time, she just watches in detached observation, with the slight upturn of her lips like a scientist admiring the results of her own making. Like a woodcarver appreciating the strokes of her knife.

Like a mother to her daughter.

(Because she's my mother, she should want the best for me, right?)

And that old, naïve part of your brain is still alive, apparently, even after you’ve left home and settled miles away. She's your mother; she must have your best interests at heart, even though the harshest words often come from her mouth.

She only has your future in mind, even if sometimes you wonder if she loves you at all.

The subtle thump of the car against the window jolted you out of your memories, and you opened your heavy eyelids, groggily regaining your bearings. You wiped your dry lips, relieved no drool dripping your chin in your nap. Looking out the window, you could see the trees whizzing by. Beside you, Simon's eyes fixed intently on the empty, straight road ahead.

At first, you had firmly convinced yourself that you wouldn't attend Sabrina's wedding, giving Simon excuses of work obligations and other lies to justify your absence. Then, Henri happens: he decreed the entire week mandatory rest for all dancers—prompted by the high stress level, but it's likely a more... specific case of frustration that pushed him over the edge: a certain ballerina who still danced her Black Swan coda like a flailing, drunken mess.

Finding yourself with an open schedule due to the unexpected break, emptiness now filled your time, leaving ample room for unwanted negative feelings—specifically, guilt. You end up reconsidering everything, even taking a Barbie out of your worn cardboard box from the closet. The doll bore the results of your and Sabrina's "artistic" minds, its hair chopped off and skin adorned with Sharpie tattoos. He responds to the doll's rough state with a sarcastic compliment.

That’s how you ended up on a short road trip with Simon. The man’s long leg stepped on the accelerator as the car continued to speed through the English countryside. Glancing up, the tiny skeleton charm swung gently where it hung, its hollow sockets seeming to stare back at you.

“Are we almost there?” you asked Simon.

At your question, he turns to you, eyes lingering for a moment before redirecting his focus on the road. “Reckon another five minutes, and we’ll be pulling up.” 

You look out the window. More trees; the dense forest seems to go on forever. Finally, a break appears, and up ahead looms the sturdy building you assume is the venue listed on the wedding invitation.

It was a manor, with solid brown brick walls and a three-story structure topped by a roof spanning each wing. Double-paneled doors were flanked by columns and arched windows. All around, emerald grass was cut to perfection, not a single blade out of place. In the center stood a two-tiered fountain, adorned with carvings of little angels spouting water into a circular pool. It was a heartwarming, romantic storybook vision.

Tearing your eyes from the scene, you glance over at Simon in amazement. “You certainly seem to know your way without GPS.” You comment.

He gave a noncommittal grunt, one-handedly turning the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car into an open spot behind a row of others. “Got a good sense o' direction, is all.”

As the rumble of the engine fell silent, you unbuckled your seatbelt but lingered in your seat, not quite ready to exit the safety of the vehicle. Through the window, you searched for distractions to ignore the uneasy flips in your stomach.

Simon reached out to reach the dashboard; you moved back slightly to give him more room. He grabbed for his plain black surgical mask, but your curious gaze landed on something else. A pair of black gloves—each finger had a contrasting white skeleton bone. You leaned in without thinking, drawing them out to inspect closely.

“I see you have a thing for skeleton.”

Simon glanced sideways at you as he hooked his mask over his ears. “Keep things interestin’,” he said lightly, voice muffled by the material. He pressed the wire along the bridge to mold it to the shape of his nose.

Pulling his keys from the ignition switch, he pocketed them with a jingle. Simon pushed open the door and stepped out in one smooth movement. He rounded the front of the car, walking to reach for your door. Pulling the handle to assist your exit, you took a deep breath before accepting his offer and slipping out of the vehicle.

A loud gasp pierced the air, followed by rapid footsteps rushing towards you. You turned your head from the sound of your name being called, finding a familiar face staring back at you. Sabrina. Now, a grown woman, changed from the girl you once knew. She stretched out her arms as she pulled you into a tight hug, blonde curls bouncing with her joyful smile.

“You came!” She cried happily, pulling back to look at you. “I’m so glad you made it!”

You returned her smile, your nerves melting away from her presence alone—the magic Sabrina had on everyone. “I wouldn’t miss your big day,” you told her.

She swept her eyes over you from head to toe appraisingly. “And look at you! So beautiful!” she said, and you were sure it was just the dress you had bought two days ago doing its job.

Sabrina shifted her gaze, and you remembered the companion standing patiently beside you. Her eyes swept over him assessingly, mixed with curiosity and wariness. Same old Sabrina. She glances at you briefly, and you know an introduction is in order.

Drawing a breath, you begin, “Sabrina, this is Simon. He, uh…” Your voice faltered, unsure of what label to use to describe him.

Simon reached out with nonchalant confidence to Sabrina. “Pleasure.”

With a hint of skepticism, Sabrina's lips tested the unfamiliar name, "Simon." Her face contorted as if it tasted bitter. She narrowed her eyes as she noted, “Funny, she has never mentioned you before.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down your spine as you replied, “There just… hasn’t been a good time to bring it up.”

You hoped that your explanation would be enough to divert the attention away from Simon, but it seemed futile. Sabrina was infamous for her stubbornness and overly protective nature, especially when it came to those she cared about. Like a tigress, she fixated a calculating gaze on him, as if preparing to pummel him on the spot if he gave her the slightest reason.

“Right,” she mumbled.

Sabrina made a show of dropping the conversation but felt compelled to ask one more question. “Any particular reason for the mask?” Her tone was sharper now, as if daring Simon to answer her.

Hastily, you jumped in. “He’s just feeling under the weather, doesn’t want to spread his cold.” It was a stupid lie, and you knew it, but Sabrina tilted her head in faux consideration.

“How thoughtful.” She commented, suspicion lingering at the edges. Hardening her eyes once more, she gave Simon a subtle threat. “You better take good care of this one.”

“Always.” Simon replied, calm and sure.

Satisfied, Sabrina’s expression switched like flickering sunlight. Clapping her hands in excitement, she announced, “Alright, time to meet Andrew and the others! And I’ll show you to your room!”

With that, she spun on her heels and marched toward the door, her long skirt swirling. Simon and you followed after her at a more sedate pace. Your heart rate slowed in relief that the confrontation was over.

Glancing at Simon, you grimaced, muttering a hushed “Sorry about her.”

Simon says nothing, depriving you of the answer, and you thought this was his way of punishing you for the excessive protectiveness of your cousin. He had driven a considerable distance to accompany you to a wedding of someone he didn’t even know, only to be met with suspicion and unwarranted scrutiny by Sabrina, then tasked with the responsibility of "taking care" of you, despite not even being your boyfriend.

However, in stark contrast to your feelings, Simon seemed to brush off the situation with nonchalance. The slight lift of his black mask and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes clearly indicated a smile hidden beneath it. There was no offense taken.

As you emerged outside the back of the manor, bright sunlight made you blink to adjust. When your blurry eyes cleared, a beautiful scene was laid out before you.

In the wide green field stood a picturesque wedding arch, still bare of the decorations that would soon adorn it. Nearby, tables draped in crisp white linens were set where groups mingled, laughing. Some were busy gossiping and enjoying the buffet; some were occupied in a croquet match.

Sabrina chuckled beside you. “They’re trying to recreate a Bridgerton scene but clearly failing miserably.” At her comment, you smiled too, admiring the carefree warmth pervading the atmosphere.

Gesturing wide, Sabrina said, “Help yourself to the buffet over there, and tea or coffee if you’d like. Oh, and this is Andrew, my fiancé!”

A tall, handsome man approached and pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s cheek. She bloomed with a rosy blush as she beamed up at him. “Babe, this is (Y/N) – you know, the cousin I’ve always told you about, my sister from another mother!” She gushed.

Her sweet description of you stirred a smile in your heart. You turned to Andrew, accepting his handshake. “It's wonderful to meet you. Sabrina talks about you all the time,” he says.

“And this is Simon. He came with (Y/N).”

Andrew reached out to offer a new handshake with Simon. “We're glad to have you both. Please, make yourselves at home.”

Giving a nod, Simon took his hand. “Appreciate the welcome, mate.” He replied.

“Oh my God!”

A high-pitched, sharp voice pierces the air, shattering the calm. Your head pivots, and you see your aunt making her way towards you, her arms stretched out in a gesture much like how Sabrina had welcomed you earlier. The embrace she gives you is as warm and smothering as you remember. Drawing back, she sweeps her teary eyes over you. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beauty!”

"Definitely," Sabrina chimes in, seconding her mother.

“It’s lovely to see you too, Auntie Joyce.” You replied, smiling at her.

Joyce pinched your cheek lightly before directing her attention past you, eyes widening in surprise. “And who is this?” she asked, gaze landing on Simon with curiosity. Before you could introduce him, she gasped even louder and glared at you as if she had just realized something big. “Why, he must be your boyfriend!”

Your heart leapt at your aunt's bold insinuation. Joyce didn't bother waiting for your confirmation before enveloping Simon in a tight hug. His shoulders tensed, and he looked confused—his hands hovering awkwardly, unsure of how to reciprocate.

Luckily, the ordeal wasn't prolonged, and your aunt finally retreated, not forgetting, of course, to give his bicep an extra appreciative squeeze. 

“Oh,” she chuckled, “you're quite the fit one, aren't you?”

“Mom, please!” Sabrina groaned, shaking her head at her mother’s antics.

Joyce dismissed her daughter's protests with a playful wave of her hand, saying, "Oh, come now, relax! It's a wedding, not a funeral." She positioned herself between you and Simon, slipping her arms through each of yours to guide you both forward.

“Just look at this place,” Joyce continued, her voice filled with admiration. “Isn’t it stunning? Sabrina had such brilliant ideas, she has a real eye for these things. Just wanted everything perfect for her and Andrew, they deserve the best.”

The older woman stopped in her tracks. She turned to the two of you, looking at you both in turn, hazel eyes filled with sincerity. Grasping each of your hands in hers, she hosted a warm, meaningful smile on her face.

“Mark my words, it’ll be your turn before you know it.”

The well-intentioned tone in your aunt's words was apparent. Auntie Joyce had always been sentimental, wearing her heart on her sleeve and never hesitating to express her thoughts. Yet you couldn't help but think that now, her words seemed misplaced—directed at the wrong people. After all, you and Simon weren't even dating, but rather just two people seeking each other's benefits and comfort. The concept of love seemed incredibly distant, and her trying to cling it to you felt like staining purity with sin.

Instead of imagining your own wedding, you feel panic building in your fingertips. You can hear your heartbeat—the ringing in your ears.

What does Simon think of the implications? He’s only here to accompany you, to make the anxiety easier to handle. But now, it’s as if you’ve brought him here for another purpose—a scheming opportunist trying to trap him with suggestions of commitment he’s never agreed to.

Before your thoughts could spiral further, a voice cuts through the chatter—an awfully familiar one, sending your body into instant shock.

“Joyce, where did you run off to?” It called out, tone softer, but your brain is only capable of recalling the rougher version of it.

Joyce waved at the newcomer, ushering her over. “Your daughter’s here with her boyfriend! Can you believe it? Why didn’t you say?”

Boyfriend. She had said it.

In that moment, horror washed over you. Your pulse quickened, racing like a frightened animal. Palms grew slick with perspiration. The world seems tilting off its axis. Something very sour stirred in your stomach, almost triggering you to retch onto the lush, green grass.

Then came the chuckle, low and mocking—and you're already aware of the person who now stands before you.

Slowly, you lift your gaze to meet the eyes so reminiscent of your own, settled in a face that still bears resemblance to the features you’ve inherited from her. She looks the same as the last time you saw her in San Francisco, except for the absence of anger, now replaced by a smile that graces her red lipsticked lips. It's a familiar expression, the exact one she uses whenever she detects hints of your defiance.

(The ghost haunting my dreams, the monster under the bed.)

The woman who had drilled into you time and again: A man’s heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing! Her vengeance against Dad had warped her into keeping the wound wet and bleeding so that it would not have time to heal, so neither of you forgot.

And here you are, betraying everything she had taught you by daring to bring a man into her world. Something crawled up your throat—heavier this time. This wasn’t panic; this was guilt.

When she saw it written on your face—the shame of your transgression—her eyes gleamed with cruel triumph at catching you out.

Auntie Joyce’s question was almost forgotten, but she never forgot. You watched her lips part, and her gaze changed to the one she always wore when she was watching your every move. Ever the watchful one.

“There just hasn’t been an opportunity yet.” She replied smoothly.

In that moment, with her lie not much different from yours for Sabrina, you realized something – that for all the distance between you, mother and daughter were never truly separate. Her poison still coursed through your veins, flowing in every pump of your blood. Every one of your thoughts and actions was controlled by her, whether she was in front of you or not.

Just as everything is good in your life, fate always has a way of destroying it. No, you disagreed.

It was my mother.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23

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[chickentnders]

Why Deku Won't End up Quirkless (and Why Bakugou will Give him his Quirk)

*obvious manga spoilers through 429* (and of course this is all just my opinion)

I know OFA is gone, but it isn’t completely gone, right? Izuku still has the embers of it. Well, that’s not what I’m talking about. The OFA quirk can’t be passed on again, it's gone, but there’s nothing in canon (afaik) saying that the embers can’t be used to pass on a quirk that someone already has one more time.

Bakugou was given OFA during the events of Heroes Rising, and even though he forgot the events of the movie, he still held the quirk for a brief period of time. 

This means he could have the embers of OFA still inside him.

When Bakugou dies in ch. 362, he sees All Might, but he doesn’t see the man, he sees the vestige. I thought this was just a stylistic choice by Horikoshi when the chapter dropped, but now I think it was foreshadowing. In that chapter, we see that memory of him and Izuku happy to both have gotten All Might trading cards.

In chapter 403 when All Might is near death, he also has a vision. He sees his life play out before his eyes, and when he looks back at his path, he sees lights on the ground and his narration says,  "As for what I've done? I just happened to glance back at my path. And what I saw… seemed so very significant."

If you count the lights on the ground, there are ten of them. The tenth one in the center has explosions around it.

A few pages later, we see All Might holding one of those balls of light as he watches child Izuku and Bakugou with their own balls of light.

This scene All Might watches is the same exact scene as Bakugou’s memory.

Two things are impossible: 1. For Bakugou to see Vestige-Might and 2. For All Might to see a memory that is NOT his own, exactly as it happened.

Remember, as All Might is seeing the two boys, they are all holding the same thing, a ball of light. But in the way this scene played out, the boys were holding All Might trading cards. If they all have the same thing, well, All Might isn’t holding his own trading card. 

If you look back at those ten balls of light on the ground in 403, the biggest one in the center has stars of light around it that look like Bakugou’s explosions. Ten lights for ten One For All holders, with Bakugou as the tenth.

The trading cards aren’t trading cards, they’re One For All.

Right before Bakugou and Izuku’s eye’s meet in 403, we see them as kids holding their cards.

Then that 10th ball of light. Then a close up of Bakugou's hand holding the trading card.

I mean…

Then their eyes meet and they pull off a very coordinated move without needing to communicate.

I prefer it from a “they just know each other that well” angle, but looking back, it’s feels more like possibly the story was trying to foreshadow something to us, like they didn’t need to communicate, because their thoughts reached each other through the OFA crystalline network.

We already have precedent for this kind of memory sharing within OFA. Yoichi showed Izuku his memories of AFO and when Izuku fought ShigAFO, their memories blend together as he transferred OFA to him.

As far as Izuku being able to receive another quirk...

If Nana gave OFA to All Might however long before she died, that means she didn’t lose Float during the transfer. Which means that OFA doesn’t take the original quirk when it’s passed on, it stores a copy. All of the other users died shortly after passing it on, so its capabilities weren’t really tested. Nobody knew that the individual quirks were stored up in OFA in addition to the power stocking, so there was no way to test what the embers would be capable of.

All Might and Izuku are the only two OFA users alive and they’re both quirkless. They have no reason to suspect that the embers could be used to transfer a quirk to someone, because they were both born without quirk factors of their own. They don't have anything to pass on and had no reason to suspect that that ember was anything more than super strength. The ember is all they have left once it’s gone.

Bakugou does have something he can pass on, he still has Explosion. Since he held OFA, there’s a good chance he still has that untouched ember of OFA that’s been lying dormant inside of him. Enough for one more use. And if he does, since OFA is a quirk meant to be passed on, I think he’s going to use that ember, not for the super strength, but as it was always intended, to pass on a quirk. To pass on his own quirk on to Izuku.

I think that’s going to be his ultimate atonement, specifically because he didn’t get a prosthetic when the doctor said, “If he’s still determined to be a hero…” and he turned it down.

Then he mentioned Izuku never had a quirk to begin with. I think this means he can't use his quirk anymore, not the way he used to. Especially since he's shown to be very similar to Mirko, who loves fighting more than anything, but he did the opposite of what she chose.

Then he cried when he found out Izuku was quirkless again—genuinely devastated—and said, “What did I do to you?”

It’s a lot of things: everything in the hospital, his little chat with Edgeshot who’s not back to normal (and the face he made at his response); the new illustration by Horikoshi where we can see his arm is still non-responsive at his side; the fact that his one line in this last chapter was asking about the ember of OFA...

It all makes me think he’s going to give his quirk to Izuku once OFA is completely burned out of him (so Izuku can’t try to give it back, because we know he would); like he's gauging how much of it is left. All Might only held onto that ember for less than a year, after holding the quirk for forty; Izuku held OFA for less than a year, it's probably going to burn out very quickly, and Bakugou probably knows this.

We already know that transfer doesn’t require the recipient to be aware, because of how it was transferred from Yoichi to Kudou, and Izuku would definitely refuse to take it if offered. It would be pretty easy, Bakugou can just spit in his food really.

And narratively, Bakugou doesn’t have anywhere left to go. His story is essentially over and ended when he finished off AFO. In fact, I think he got back up and went out with such a bang (and has gotten very little screen time since), because that was the last time he was going to pursue his pro hero dream (from the standpoint of the author, not the character, who wouldn't know how badly he'd been hurt).

He’s been famous the entire story since chapter one and the entire world watched him take down the most villainous villain to ever villain on live TV. He wanted to be the strongest, but by now he knows that it’s never going to happen for him the way he wanted, and being the person to finish off AFO (with everyone’s help) is probably the highest he could ever go. He’s achieved the dream that he had at the start of the story to the best of his ability. And at the end, his dream shifted to wanting him and Izuku to keep competing at each other’s side forever, but Izuku being quirkless makes that impossible. 

But Izuku being quirkless again is what makes it possible for him to do for Izuku what nobody else but him can: pass his quirk onto him. I think that's why the way to defeat ShigAFO was to give away OFA. Izuku had to be quirkless for the story to end the way it started, but to reverse their roles.

By now, Bakugou’s grown a lot, and for quite a while in the manga his story has shifted to be about Izuku first and foremost, so I think this would be the equivalent of him finally taking that hand that he slapped away when they were kids.

And I kind of think this was what Horikoshi intended from the start, maybe? I know he said something about Heroes Rising being the original ending, I dont know about you, but I never take authors literally and prefer to let their work do the talking. That said, in Heroes Rising, the two boys pass a quirk between them, so this kind of ending would fit. I don’t know the exact quote, but Horikoshi also said something along the lines of hoping Bakugou’s ending would make people who like him and dislike him both happy. I feel like giving up the thing that defines him, his quirk, would do just that.

It's hard to argue that Bakugou hasn't atoned if he gave up the thing that had given his entire life meaning to the quirkless loser he bullied.

If you think about it, Izuku was always copying Bakugou at the beginning of the story, it went on for quite a while until he really made OFA his own. If Bakugou can’t use his quirk anymore, or can’t use his arm anymore the way he used to, and he wants Izuku to not be quirkless, he’s the perfect person to get it. He already knows all of Bakugou’s moves from years of watching him, he learned how to move like him, and his Explosion quirk is the one he’d admired his whole life. I can't imagine Bakugou would want his quirk to go to anybody else, and I think if he had the chance to give Izuku his dream back, after having crushed it for so many years, telling him he could never be a hero, he would take it in a heartbeat.

And then the final point: Endeavor. Bakugou is a parallel to him, but he had his eyes opened and started trying to atone much earlier in life. Endeavor went off the deep end very early in life; he reached the number two spot by twenty, realized he couldn't surpass him, decided to get married, try to have a baby, and by twenty-two Touya was born. Unwell behavior. Bakugou also came to this realization and ShigAFO drove it home even further: he will never surpass Izuku and he never could have surpassed All Might (nobody could, aside from the person he pass OFA onto, and despite meeting All Might the same day, he wasn't the one chosen).

In 426, Endeavor said that he had planned to retire after the final battle was over and that he’d spend every day watching Touya. Hero work was the thing that gave Endeavor pride, it was the only thing that mattered in his life, when his family should have been the most important thing. He gave up the thing that gave him meaning to finally focus on what was important, even if it was too late.

For Bakugou, it's not too late. The thing that defined him as a person his entire life, from the moment it manifested, was his quirk. If he’s a parallel to Endeavor, and if he has an ember of OFA inside him, it would make sense that he’s going to do the same thing and give up the thing that got between him and what mattered most: his friendship with Izuku.

And I think it would be a perfect end to their story if Katsuki ended up quirkless, while Izuku got an amazing quirk; and if the boys who were friends, turned bully and victim, could go back to being normal friends like when they were little.

Do you think Bakugou will give Explosion to Izuku? Do you think he's going to give him his quirk and finally tell Izuku the thing he's always wanted to hear from him, "You can be a hero"?

Do you think Deku will become the first quirkless pro hero instead? (I’d love this, but considering it keeps getting reinforced that you can’t be a pro hero in the MHA universe without a quirk (Mirio taking a sabbatical, Ragdoll, Grandpa Fist), idk… (even though Bakugou genuinely thought Izuku got into UA without a quirk and Izuku had hoped to get into the hero program without a quirk))

Do you think Bakugou could become the first quirkless pro hero?

And here are the ten lights:

(I posted this on Tumblr before, if it sounds familiar, but I think I rambled too much so I just condensed it. Apologies for redundancy ^_^;)

[triceratops6]

Hiii, I have a request! Ok so hear me out, what if Daichi ends up becoming friends with this girl (Michimiya), and he spends a lot of his time with her. Lately he has been forgetting his plans or canceling his plans with reader, who is his girlfriend, for the friend.  make it as angsty as possible with a happy ending pretty please with a cherry on top🥹

Hi ! Thanks for your request I hope you're gonna like it <33

Daichi x reader

ANGST with happy ending :)

Summary : At first, you were happy when Daichi became friend with Michimiya, but as he started to hang out more with her you couldn't help the bitter thoughts that reached you.

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It has been happening more and more lately, a text to told you he wasn't available this night or another one to apologise because he forgot your date. Daichi was the best boyfriend you could wish for, always sweet to you and full of kindness. This is why you didn't complain when he started to hang out with Michimiya more and more often. After all the two were captain of their volleyball team, they advised each other and could share their burden.

So you were happy at first when they became friends, you always thought Michimiya was very nice. But then Daichi started to forget your date or to cancel at the last minute because he had things to do with her. And, even to you tried to be comprehensive, even to you trusted your boyfriend with your life; you just couldn't take it anymore.

Not when you were standing in front of your house all dolled up and beautiful; waiting for your boyfriend for more than an hour now. He was supposed to pick you up for a date, the two of you had been waiting to go to this place for a long time now. Well, at least you had, you were happy to finally spend time with Daichi given that he was very busy lately. You checked one last time your phone and seing that you had no text from him you simply gave up. Sighing before going back to your home.

Once settled in your couch, you couldn't help the gloomy thoughts that overcame you. Had you done something for him to avoid you this much ? Didn't he wanted to spend time with you ? You were really lost, he was as kind as ever to you and nothing had change in his attitude towards you. Well, beside the fact that you could barely see each others outside of class now.

Maybe he stopped loving you; falling for his new friend instead. Your stomach tightened up at this thought, the most painful thing being that you found this situation likely to happen. Maybe that was it, he was growing bored of you and had found a new lover in Michimiya. Not knowing what was really going on made your head ache, all you had really wanted was for Daichi to just tell you. Not slowly drifting away from you without saying anything, letting you in your inability of really understand the whole situation.

As you were going to bed, you recieved a text from your boyfriend. He had unexpectedly practice tonight and were very sorry that he couldn't let you know in time. You were already in a bad mood from his manners but in addition to all that, this new practice was in common with the feminine volleyball team. An idea Michimiya and him had not long ago.

Speechless, you stared at your phone for a good minute before taking the decision not to respond to him. Tomorrow you would have to talk to him seriously, wether it would mean ending your relationship or not. You went to bed, tears menacing to spill as you thought once again of Daichi and this whole situation.

Nothing could describe what how you were feeling right now, the feeling that made its way trough your stomach since this morning was unbearable. You were anxiously attending to your class already thinking about what you would say to your boyfriend -thoughts that were spinning in your head since this morning. You wondered how he would react and what were his excuses. Was he just busy and stressed, or had he really found his feelings for you to be gone ?

Before you could torture yourself further with your thoughts, a hand on your shoulder startled you. Turning your head, you meet the sweet smile of Daichi, he gave you a peck on the cheek before speaking "Hi love, I'm really sorry for last night, tonight I have no plan so we can see each other okay ?", you just stood there not really sure what to say. You were angry at him and you were sad, it took all your will not to slap him right now. Seing your lack of reaction, Daichi's eyes became sad and his eyebroww knitted with worry "Are you alright ?" and before you could respond, the sound of the bell told you you had class to attend. Before going, you just told him -with what you hoped was self-confidence- "I think we should talk, so I would be waiting for you this evening after your practice"

The rest of the day felt like hell for the two of you. Neiher could really concentrate on their classes as their thoughts were eating them up. You couldn't stop thinking about what you were going to say to him, replaying the fictional scene in your head again and again like a movie. And Daichi couldn't stop the aprehension he felt, he knew he had fucked up, he was already grateful that you were patient with him but he had cross the limit this time and there were no going back. His worry and lamentations followed him all day, even at practice and he was not surprised when the coach told him to go home given his poor game.

Finally outside, the first thing he saw was that you were already here, sat on a bench you seemed in your thoughs. As he was observing you, his sweet and beautiful girlfriend, the truth hit him, you were going to break up with him. Well, of course you were, he had been cancelling your dates for weeks or even forgetting them, being busy wasn't an excuse anymore. But even to he didn't want to, he had to accept the consequence of his actions, so he walked to you.

When you saw him, you were taken aback given that his practice was supposed to end later. You came here before to gather you thoughts and now you didn't feel prepared enough. You jumped on your feet, facing Daichi and an awkward silence took place. Neither one of you knew what to say and to you, it was like all the negative feelings of this past weeks came to weight you down at this exact moment. The only moment where you needed to be calm and have an important converstation.

"Do you still love me ?" was all you could muster in the moment and you cringed at how it came out. You saw Daichi eyes open wide as it was his turn to ask "Why would I don't love you anymore ?". After sadness there were anger that filled your words "Are you kidding me ? Don't do like you don't know what I'm talking about Daichi," he flinched slightly hearing his name fall from your mouth "You've been avoiding me for weeks, spending all your time with either your friends or Michimiya. You could've at least told me you don't want to spend time with me anymore instead of drifting away like that. I thought you were better than that, so now that we finally see each other outside of school tell me the truth. Are you still in love with me ? Have you fall for Michimiya ? Just tell me Daichi so I can finally move on and understand."

Daichi was at a complete loss of words, he wanted to punch himself so bad for letting the women he loved think that of their situation. For letting you have this thoughts that were evidently eating you for a long time. And most of all, for the way he made you suffer. "Oh no, I don't want to break up with you ! I still love you so much, Michimiya's just a friend !" he was such an asshole, of course it would do nothing to say that, he basically spend more time with her than with you lately. "I'm so sorry my love... I was so busy lately and when I was spending time with her I didn't mean it like that."

He could see that you were still angry -wich was totally normal-, but there were still a once of doubt in your eyes "Are you sure ? I don't understand with how you have been acting lately." He approached you carefully, not wanting to make you uncomfortable "Of course I'm sure, I love you and my feelings will not change for a very long time, I'm sure of that. I should have talked more with you, and explain further when I couldn't go out with you, I have been careless and I promise I will make time for the two of us now and never see Michimiya again" that last sentence made you smile a little "Will you forgive me my love ?"

He saw you pout slightly "Well... I don't really know, your excuses didn't seem really convincing to me" he smiled, before taking your hand in his, " I swear you're the only one in my mind at all time, and the only thing I could think of when we weren't together was you and how I would love to have you in my arms. I will do anything for you to forgive me and I'm really sorry." you were smiling now, and even to you were still angry with him, you were glad your thoughts had the best of you and that he had just been an asshole for a little while. Still, an asshole that loved you and were ready to learn from his mistakes.

"Of course I forgive you, but if it happen again I will dump you." "It won't happen again, I swear. Can I hug you ?" you just noded and he was on you, kissing your cheek as you reciprocated his embrace. As you were making the most of the presence of each others you couldn't stop a last sentence to slip past your lips "You're punish though, you can't see Michimya more than me now." he drew away and you were meet with a nervous smile, proof he was again sorry. You snort before giving him a peck on the lips.

You two then started to walk, Daichi sneacking his arm on your hip "Where do you want to go ?" you looked at him "I was thinking we could go to my house and see a movie, I have popcorn. Is it okay with you ?" "Yep, perfect."

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[uptondixon]

Give me everything tonight - Dante Torres x Intelligence Officer!Reader

During a late-night conversation in the locker room, you and Dante succumb to the feelings that are buried deep inside your hearts.

Word count: 1263

Characters: Dante Torres x You, Trudy Platt & Hank Voight

Warnings: Making out. They're horny. There's no actual smut tho.

“Dante,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he answered in the same tone, his breath coming directly into your face. Shivers spread across your body and fog clouded over your mind. He was so close, you were not touching but his presence was so strong. You cannot help but want to touch him.

Dante's not any different, in fact, he is sure he has been dreaming about your touch for far longer than you could ever imagine. He has never been so close to you before. The fact that he could take another step closer and the distance between you would be nonexistent makes his hands shake lightly. 

How did you two end up in this position? Almost pressed together against the wall of the locker room in the precinct. Looking directly into each other's eyes and longing to finally feel the other’s touch. 

What is happening right now is nothing but months of pent-up feelings finally running free. You and Dante clicked instantly. When you first met in front of Platt’s desk, his eyes lit up like two full moons. He was a calm and collected guy, it was rare for someone to make him lose control of himself. The state of control he fought so hard to achieve. But there you are. Simply existing and still making him a mess of shiny eyes, shy smiles, and impure thoughts. He never met someone so stunning, someone who had power over him with just a look. 

You stared back at the man before you, vaguely registering Platt mention the name of the new addition to Intelligence. ‘Officer Torres’. Even his name sounds pretty, you thought. He was exactly what you always thought a handsome man should be. Your mind does nothing but put you in trouble with all the dirty thoughts clouding your senses. Thoughts of him. Only him.

“We cannot,” you said, louder this time. By changing the tone, you expected to break the atmosphere that had built itself around the room, but it was impossible at that point.

Keeping eye contact with him, you said, “You know how Voight feels about in-house relationships, and after what happened with Hailey and Jay…” 

“Don't. Don't discourage this, Y/n,” he said, his voice still low. “I get what you're saying, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to care.” 

“Dante!” 

“For real, I just can't. Don't you see it?” his eyes grow bigger in exasperation. “I want you.”

Three words. Three damn words. They start floating around your head like a drug being injected into your body and messing with your sanity. Your body reacts to him more intensely now, your hands slowly reaching for his but never actually getting there. 

“I always wanted you, mi amor,” he said, moving his arms to the wall behind you, his biceps invading your line of vision, and the first thing you do is reach for each arm with your hands, feeling his skin. Your body and mind slowly losing the control to stop yourself.

“Fuck you, Torres,” you said in a huff. For a second there you truly hated him. You hated him for being so damn hot for absolutely no reason, making this even harder for you.

That drew a chuckle out of him, “What?” he said with a smile still on his face. You stared back at him and he felt like he could melt right then and there. All the nights he spent awake thinking about you. Thinking about every single thing that makes you the woman of his dreams. Every thought he ever had of you led him to this moment.

“Kiss me, Y/n,” he said so softly that it almost sounded like a request. His eyes left yours for the first time since he backed you up on that wall, instead focusing on your lips. 

You felt your hands start to shake and your heartbeat rise. You were just getting ready to leave for the night, how the hell did the conversation you both shared about the day's work end up like this? 

Suddenly, your mind was consumed by just one thought: fuck it. Fuck the rules. He wanted you. 

He wanted you and that is all you needed to hear to convince yourself to finally close the distance between your lips. 

Dante's lips were exactly what you expected, so soft and warm. His hands instantly left the wall and held your body close, your hands flying to the back of his head.

The kiss destroyed any second thought or insecurity Dante ever felt about being with you, it felt so right to finally have you. Thoughts of not being enough or not doing the right thing seemed impossible now that he tasted you. 

You could not remember the last time your mind did not wake you up in the morning with thoughts of him. Kissing his lips felt like long overdue and neither of you could stop now.

What started with a rough touch of lips grew into a battle for control. Tongues meeting each other, looking for dominance. A bite here and there, accompanied by a softer peck to ease the pain. You both followed this ritual over and over again, not even thinking about where you were or what you were doing.

Hands were flying everywhere, to feel hair, neck, shoulders, and pretty much anything else they could reach. It was all becoming too much. You both were sweating and panting but did not show any signs of stopping.

One special scratch of nails on his shaved head made Dante snap, breaking the contact with your lips. He reaches for your thighs, lifting you up with ease. Your legs instantly wrapped around him and you both suddenly stayed still, enjoying the sensation of being in each other's arms.

You fit so perfectly in his arms and Dante felt like he could hold you forever.

However, you both realized where you were, your senses coming back for a moment. 

“We need to get out of here, amor,” he said, still holding you firmly. If you did not leave now Dante would take you right here and you sure would not complain.

Your hands caressed his head, smiling at him in response, “We do D, right fucking now.”

He smiled so big you could count every tooth in his mouth. You both started laughing and he put you back on the ground.

Smiles, intertwined hands, hearts full of love, and bodies full of desire. That's how you both left the district that night. 

Thankfully, you did not meet anyone on your way out. It was late and the difficult case they solved that day had sent everyone rushing home to rest. 

Rest. Something you and Dante would not be having tonight, and everyone who set eyes on you at that moment could see that. But no one did, thank God.

But it was not like they did not know already. It would be anything but a surprise for your friends and coworkers.

“Well damn. So much for no in-house relationships, right Hank?” Platt said laughing after you and Dante walked up to Intelligence after first being introduced to each other.

Hank ran a hand across his face, eyeing the stairs you both went up seconds ago. You literally just met, what the hell? He never has a moment of peace.

“If you ask me, this is all your fault, Hank," Platt said with a taunting smile, she loves teasing him about this ongoing Intelligence situation. “You always choose such perfect partners, they can't help but sleep with each other.”

Voight groans, “For goodness sake.”

I was hit with inspiration for my man, isn't he delicious? I love how this one came out! Feel free to reblog, like, and share your thoughts <3 Btw we need more Dante Torres fics!

[hurpdurpburps]

Otherside Picnic Manga Yuri Club Special Story 9 English Translation

SPOILER WARNING: Takes place immediately after the events of File 10 - Sannuki-san and Karateka-san in Vol 3 of the novels.

Written by: Miyazawa Iori

Translated by: @hurpdurpburps

-

Chapter 9: Kozakura Mansion, Pizza Party

The intercom rang, and Akari was the first to stand up from the couch before anyone else could do so.

"Looks like it's here! Do you mind if I get the door, Kozakura-san?"

"Yeah, please do."

"Understood!"

Akari left the reception room, and soon after the sound of the front door opening could be heard.

"Yes! This way!" A loud voice calling out to the delivery person came through from beyond the closed door.

"That girl is full of energy," Kozakura said, half-amused.

"She sure is loud, isn't she?"

"Maybe doing karate makes you this way," Toriko chimed in, tilting her head to the side.

I wasn’t sure if everyone in this room - meaning Kozakura, Toriko, and myself – would be a match for Akari even if we combined our voices and all of the cheer that we could muster.

"I thought you were someone like that too when we first met, Toriko."

"Me?"

"I’d assumed you were one of those bright, cheerful rays of sunshine, so I was surprised when you didn't turn out to be like that."

"Hey, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

She had a fair point, but anyone would’ve thought the same after seeing her come on so strongly when we first met. She'd even tracked me down at my university.

In hindsight, the manner in which she’d abruptly gotten closer to me felt a bit off. And that was in addition to the fact that I knew that she was in illegal possession of a gun.

As such, it was curious how we ended up becoming good friends. If Toriko had reciprocated the sense of distance between us, we wouldn't be where we were right now.

"You’re really shy, aren’t you, Toriko?"

"I guess so."

"You were so quick to tell me to help out Akari and Natsumi, but you clammed up the moment you met them in person."

"That’s because I didn't know what to talk about."

"Well, neither did I."

"Sorawo-chan, didn't you notice that Toriko was shy when you met for the first time?"

"Not at all. Was it different when you first met her, Kozakura-san?"

Kozakura and Toriko shared a look.

"She didn’t speak much and just sort of smiled, so I thought, ‘She’s a quiet one.’"

"Ah, so she was in her usual shy mode."

"I was nervous, you know… I got used to you quickly, didn’t I?" Toriko said sheepishly.

"Yeah, you sure did, getting so close to me all of a sudden that I got scared."

"It’s as I thought after all…"

"What do you mean ‘after all’? I thought we got along pretty well right from the get-go, Sorawo."

"On the contrary, what was up with that? You didn't seem shy at all."

"Mmn- I just kinda thought, ‘It feels like I can get along with this girl.’”

"And why is that?"

"Huh? Umm."

Toriko suddenly looked at me with a shy grin on her face.

"Wh- what?"

"Nothing?"

"Seriously, what???"

While I was in my state of confusion, I heard Akari's footsteps return.

"Helloooo! Could you open the door, please!"

Being the one in closest proximity, I stood up and opened the door to the reception room, and Akari entered carrying a pile of pizza boxes and several bags of side orders in her hands.

"Huh, did we order this much?"

"It'll be fine as long as you eat up, Sorawo."

"No way, eat your proper share too, Toriko!"

"I'll be eating as well, so it's alright!"

That's right, I’ll need Akari to take one for the team today.

This afterparty was a victory celebration of sorts for defeating Sannuki-kano. Which was why we’d made an exception and invited Akari.

"It would’ve been nice if Natsumi could join us," Toriko said with a smile.

There you go, saying things like that again, even though you’d barely be able to hold a conversation if she were actually here.

"I totally feel the same way, but it seems she still has her hands full with work."

"Make sure you eat her share too."

"Got it! Thank you for the food!"

Kozakura squinted her eyes in response to Akari’s bright reply, as if she were looking at a blindingly-bright object.

I must have the same expression on my face, I thought to myself.

TL Notes

General note: I adopted a more 'literary' prose style to match the tone of the novels. Hence, the translation in this series will be significantly more liberal than my usual analytical posts. Feel free to ask me anything. Feedback regarding translation accuracy is also welcome.

No particular terms or phrases to point out for this chapter, but I did make a conscious effort to make everyone's speech patterns more distinctive because I wanted to more accurately reflect the dialogue nuances and corresponding lack of speaker signifiers in the original Japanese text as best as I could.

Do let me know if the conversations in this chapter are confusing to read.

List of Yuri Club's Otherside Picnic Short Stories [my translations]:

1. Shinjuku, The First Meet-Up (新宿、初めての待ち合わせ)

2. Hasshaku-sama Epilogue (八尺様エピローグ)

3. Ochanomizu, The First Afterparty (お茶の水、初めての打ち上げ)

4. Ikebukuro, Cafe Meal For One (池袋、ひとりカフェ飯)

5. Naha, After The Big Job (那覇、大仕事の後)

6. Ishigaki Island, A Dazed Vacation (石垣島、呆然のリゾート)

7. Mercedes AMG, The Backseat (メルセデスAMG、後部座席)

8. Otherworldly Elevator, On The Way Back (異世界エレベーター、帰路)

9. Kozakura Mansion, Pizza Party (小桜屋敷、ピザパーティー)

10. Ikebukuro Bookstore, Meet Up (池袋の書店、待ち合わせ)

11. Hannou, In The Car From The Station (飯能、駅からの車中)

12. TBD

[writtenontheport]

Just a Night at Portland Row

(pt.1) (pt.2)

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Literal romcom, These people are silly, Everyone’s so sillycore here, teary confessions, someone accidentally confesses, nothing dramatic happens he’s just silly, Childhood friends to lovers, Lockwood is kinda stupid (affectionate), no smut or suggestive content, Lockwood and co and reader friendship, whether or not what Lockwood says at the end actually happens is up to you!!

Notes: I have quite a few issues with this one, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but I think it’s one of the better ways I could go about it. I also put all the flowers meanings at the bottom, so if you were curious I did in fact plan the flower meanings (I am a nerd). This finale has gone through about 20 revisions on the first day alone, so if anything seems jarringly out of place, I am so sorry 😭 I was all over the place with my ideas.

Summary: Just before supper time, you and Lockwood have a heart to heart, and it starts as it always has: with flowers, with tears, and a little funny thing called love.

word count: 2.4k+

“George,” Lockwood says seriously. It’s the first time George has ever seen him so serious about something that isn’t Lucy or him dying and it shocks him how quick he is to steel himself for whatever it is. “I need you to get Lucy to bring them down here, if you can, please.”

Now, ‘them’ is obviously referring to you, who’s laughing away upstairs with Lucy so loud they can hear it ring through the vents. If this wasn’t something George has genuinely been excited for, he would have smacked Lockwood upside the head for using that terrifying tone. “Don’t say it like that, prick. Thought someone was dying there.”

Lockwood grins at him from where he’s messing with the bouquet stood up on the table. The paper wrapping hasn’t been removed, courtesy of the empty vase and that water would most likely melt it; ribbon still intact. They stand, not quite fully in bloom (which is the best way to buy flowers, because otherwise they wilt right away) but just on the precipice of it. It’s packed with other, smaller additions, but at the heart of it, well. Maybe Lockwood did know something about the language of flowers.

“How’d you even pick them out?” George asks instead, watching Lockwood’s grin wobble.

“I made friends with the shopkeeper. He wouldn’t tell me what any of them meant, but he said they were good flowers— like the carnations. One of them though… these white ones here, just felt familiar somehow.” He kept messing about with the bouquet, meddling with any loose leaf or bud. “Can you please go get them? I want them to be able to see the flowers before they wilt.”

George does swat Lockwood for that, but he goes upstairs to get you. You and Lucy have moved to her room on George’s urging (he made Lockwood wait outside before coming in to make sure you didn’t know) and were lying in her bed on your stomachs, reading and sharing books. Lucy’s the first to look up at him, raising a brow as she nudges you.

“George? Everything ok?” You ask, propping yourself up to sit criss cross on the mattress. “Has Anthony come back yet?”

“He has,” he says simply, “He says he needs you in the kitchen. Lucy should stay since she must be tired from the case yesterday.”

From behind you, Lucy has a moment of realization that has her tucking her lips to hide a smile. Quietly, she puts a hand up to her forehead in a salute to George.

“You should go check,” she says, “Who knows what kind of trouble he might be in.”

“A lot of trouble,” George adds, nodding slightly along. You narrow your eyes in suspicion, but you get up off the bed.

“I’ll save your place!” She calls just as you’re headed down. George walks 2 steps behind you to hide his expression before he can school it, feeling giddy with nerves that aren’t even his to have. He wonders how Lockwood’s doing, stopping just at his bedroom door.

You turn back, asking “You aren’t coming?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He rocks gently on his feet and pulls his hands behind his back, reassuring you with a calm nod. “Off you go, Lockwood’s probably burnt himself making tea by now or something.”

“I’d hope not…” you mumble, each step down like a crescendo in the world’s most suspenseful piece of music— every floorboard creak like the lead instrument and your heartbeat acting a steady base. On a sheet you’re sure it looks hideous, but it levels out when you open the door and Lockwood’s waiting there by the counter, looking like he’s straight off a magazine. The silence creeps in, but the piece rises to new heights as the sound of everything— the floorboards, the vents— suddenly dulls out.

You step into the kitchen, and let the door shut behind you.

There is your Anthony, standing there in the middle of the kitchen with a bouquet full of dazzling pink tulips, red roses, and spots of white jasmine flowers. There is Anthony, the boy you’ve known and loved for years— looking at you like he always does: like you’re the whole world and sky and everything he wakes up for.

Neither of you speak for a good minute, but it’s not without trying. Lockwood spends that pregnant pause fumbling for words, before—

“I love you,” He says.

The words come rushing out his lips, hurried and desperate. It shocks you how simply he puts it, like a sudden rest in the notes that takes you by surprise. He looks surprised too; horrified, really, that he’s just blurted that out. He swallows thickly, steeling his expression into something determined.

“I—“ you pause, the words caught in your throat, blood pounding in your ears. You think you tear up, but you can’t really tell when the whole world narrows down to Anthony Lockwood across from you in the kitchen of Portland Row, professing his love in the spur of the moment. You grow warm with affection, taking a step closer to him as the music of your singing heart drowns out everything but his words.

He takes a deep breath, his face pale with fear as he swallows and says quietly,, “Today, when I went down to the shops to get you these flowers, I met the really old man tending to them. Don’t look at me like that, he was really old, alright?”

“Anthony,” you scold quietly, tutting at him as you wrap your hands around his.

He bites the inside of his cheek before he keeps going. “Anyways he isn’t the point— I brought him up because he made me realise that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never gave telling you a shot. He lived loving someone else until they died— even after they did, and if… if there was a chance I could have that with you, I wanted to take it. I can’t promise you that I’ll be alive for as long as you will be, but I can promise you that I will love you for everyday I live and breathe if you let me.”

“Anthony,” you start, breathlessly. You take his face in your hands and he puts the bouquet down to cover your hands with his. He looks so scared like this, fragile like glass in your hands and pale with nerves.

“I can’t promise you forever,” He says solemnly, “But I can promise you my heart for as long as it beats.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, and will yourself not to kiss him. Years down to minutes— minutes to seconds. The silence hangs like a winding note. You glance back quickly at the bouquet, picking out one of the jasmine flowers before sliding it behind his ear and resting your hands on his face.

“Do you remember the first flower I gave you?” You ask just as quietly. He shakes his head, cheeks rubbing against the skin of your palms. “We were… quite young at the time, and I must have been mad, because I stole it from the neighbour’s garden. Yes, the grumpy one, you remember her. Well, I ran straight over from all the way from home with this crumpled little thing in hand— stop giggling. I’m telling you an important story— and you lit up like a light. Cheeky little thing you were, finding a way to give it back to me when I got scolded the same day for stealing and I was awful sore about the whole thing.”

“You looked all sad,” He cut in, voice hoarse in a mumble, “It made me happy, so I wanted it to make you happy too.”

You laugh, just as breathless, “And it worked, Anthony. It’s still one of my favourite flowers. Did you know that? They were the first flowers I read up on when I learned flowers could have meanings.”

“What’d you find?” He asks, the nerves fading into a hopefulness that fills his eyes with stars. It’s helplessly endearing where you see them shine, nearly nose to nose with how close you’re holding him.

You hum and close your eyes, pushing your forehead against his. “We gave each other white jasmine flowers, that day. A lot of people say they mean purity or innocence, but the one that stuck out to me was that people say it meant “everlasting love” too. When I look back on it now, it must’ve been fate.”

“Cause I always loved you and you probably realised that with how stupid I get about you?”He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

You chuckle quietly, just as helplessly lost, “Not quite. I didn’t even think there was a chance you could love me back, though that does make everything a bit easier… because I’ve always loved you, Anthony.”

Like a child on Christmas day, Lockwood’s eyes grow wide; he’s helpless to the grin that splits his face. “Really?”

“I’m no liar, Anthony, and certainly not about this,” you laugh, unable to help yourself as you tip back and rest your nose lightly against his.

“No like— you mean it?” He asks, voice cracking with hope as he searches your face, “You love me? You love me?”

You’re helplessly endeared, helplessly in love and helplessly lost to it, so you just whisper back with a grin as wide, “Yes, Anthony. I love you.”

What little space between you both is gone in a second when he pushes his lips against yours. It’s a desperate thing, all relief and comfort and love pouring out. At some point, you’re both smiling too wide and too much for it to be anything more than just pushing your lips against each other’s and you pull away with a wet laugh.

He grins wider, and you didn’t think it was possible but he manages it. “I’m so glad, because if I had to go back to the shopkeeper with a terrible story about how I got rejected by the love of my life—“

You giggle and swat at his arm, wrapping your arms around him, “Of course that’s what you worry about. This is all a publicity stunt, yeah? To boost your ego.”

“Of course,” he says, with no weight to the words as he sniffs and blinks away the last of his tears, “Though that just means we should make it a bigger stunt and get married. I’ll even invite Kipps just to rub it in his face.”

You hum, helplessly amused, when the door slams open and George shamelessly walks in with at first his usual deadpan, then a pleased expression. From behind George, Lucy is brimming with happiness, smiling cheek to cheek.

“Gross,” George says, simply and without malice. He steps around you and Lockwood, patting you both on the back sincerely and pulling out pots and pans. It occurs to you a little late that he’s starting on supper. “Took you both a while to actually confess. Mental, the two of you.”

“It was cute,” Lucy says kindly, taking you from Lockwood (he does pout lightly, but she just sticks her tongue out at him) hugging you dear. “George just means that we’re both very happy you two finally got together. He was starting to go bald actually from pulling his hair out too much, look at his hairline—“

“You can’t even pretend like you weren’t too, Lucy.” George sends her a glare as she separates from you. Lockwood quickly fills the space at your side again and all but wraps himself around you. Lucy pats him on the back with a congratulatory smile.

“You can’t go bald before my wedding, George, that’d just ruin it,” you say, clicking your tongue as you reach over (not without struggling over Lockwood) and pat his curls into place. The pot nearly slips out of his hands while Lucy’s eyes grow big as saucers.

“Wedding?!?” They ask simultaneously. Lockwood giggles into your neck, the cheeky bastard.

“This one here,” you gesture at Lockwood with a look, “said we should get married since this whole thing is a publicity stunt or whatnot. Said he might even invite that Kipps bloke he hates.”

“That is the lamest proposal I have ever heard,” Lucy immediately cuts in, the most disappointed scowl pointed at Lockwood’s head.

“I’ve got to agree. You could absolutely do better than that, Lockwood. Also, Quill Kipps? Do you want to have start a fight at your wedding?” George asks, his back turned to everyone. You pull away from Lockwood to pick up the flowers, but not without him frowning as you do. He stops frowning as soon as you smile at him, though, before he turns his attention to Lucy and George when they both pretend to gag.

“I gave them flowers, a really sentimental bunch I think, then I had a good speech,” He says to Lucy first, who raises a brow at him.

He turns to George next. “I need to rub it in his face that he’s probably miserable and forever alone.”

“I thought it was gonna be a publicity stunt, not a revenge plot,” You mutter, clicking your tongue.

“I’m not letting you have a lame wedding, Lockwood, because that means they—“ she points to you “— will have a lame wedding and I will not let that happen.”

“But you’d let me have a lame wedding if it was just mine?” His face is scrunched in offence as he ‘discreetly’ wraps himself around you again.

“Yes,” Lucy and George say simultaneously.

“I’d marry you at a lame wedding.” You play with his hair where you can reach it, pressing a kiss to his forehead where he’s dumped it again on your shoulder. Lucy and George gag, Lockwood beams so bright you’d think he won the lottery that night.

They manage to convince you that it’s too dark out to leave (it was past curfew, the sun had set already) so you spend the night recounting everything you can with them until the stars had gone to sleep and the sun started rising.

The next day, he brings down the bouquet of carnations you’d first given him, and you mix both the bouquets into one. A year later, Portland Row becomes home to not only to the people living in it, but a garden full of flowers blooming with love, laughter, and a lot of hard work. White Jasmine flowers bloom on the veranda and a house of three becomes home to four.

A/N: Finally finished this series!! Whew, that was… hmm!! And just because I couldn’t add it to the story without it getting clunky, have these idk, headcanons? fun facts?:

Reader tells Lockwood all about the flowers after, and informs him about why the Jasmine flowers were so familiar

The grumpy neighbour reader stole the white jasmine flowers from was actually the old man gardener’s wife

Lockwood goes back to tell the old man, and they have a laugh about the whole thing

It is so hard to get one straight meaning for a flower, but if you dig enough you can find flowers that mean so many cute things:

Red carnations mean deep love and affection

Pink tulips mean caring and affection

White Jasmine flowers can mean many things but for this story I went with: Eternal love, persevering love, and new beginnings

Everyone knows red roses, but I also like to think Lockwood’s bouquet had thornless red roses because they mean love at first sight

Yes he one upped the reader even without knowing what all the flowers mean because he’s a competitive little freak (affectionate) and I love him

This series has been very dear to me, and I am especially thankful to @tangledinlove <3 Thank you for your kind reblogs, I hope you know I read them and always look forward to seeing how you find each part in the series even if I don’t respond to them <33333

Also @milesmorals asked me to tag her too!!

[pupmkincake2000]

Some thoughts.

Okay, Halsin, what the hell?

When I was playing Gale origin, I didn't know what lines to choose so I pushed any friendly dialogue button I saw so it felt okay when Halsin offered me to be his lover. Everything I had to do was to refuse his offer. This time (playing Astarion origin) I was extremely careful and didn't choose a single line that could trigger such a dialogur, even friendship ones. I did not ask him about his past (lovers) or whether he has potential partners, I only talked about helping to save Thaniel, but Halsin still offers me a polyamorous relationship and sex! Hinting that he went to Baldur's Gate with us because of... us, right after a fight with Ketheric. With Gale it felt normal because, again, I didn't know what lines to pick. But with Astarion it feels at least strange.

I mean, why? I didn't cross the line when talking to him this time. When I played Gale origin, I wasn't sure what lines would trigger his proposal, but now I've carefully avoided anything undesirable and yet he still offers me sex! God, I do love this bear, he is the walking embodiment of everything I could love in a man, both his appearance and personality is a masterpiece, except for polyamory, because it is not my cup of tea, not in this case at least, but now it is his behavior that makes me feel disapointed in him. And what infuriates me most is the confidence with which he says I also feel attracted to him, although - again! - I carefully avoided any potentially dangerous lines that could trigger his confession. What's going on with this character? So to be just friendly with him is enough to get these scenes?

Since my Astarion is in a relationship with Gale, I decided to look at his (Gale's ) reaction if he was offered such an open relationship. I decided to try different lines and it really made me smile that Gale’s first thought about adding a third person to the relationship was a child.

Also, as I thought, Gale is monogamous in a relationship and is not ready to share. I like that he speaks openly about it and to some extent even with anger that he does not agree to this, in fact, that’s why I like him.

And it was really painful to choose a line about breaking up, even if it was just to see his reaction. I never want to see that pain on his face again. This only lasts a few moments, but his disappointment in love, in the very concept of relationships, is very palpable.

I think that after such a “betrayal” he wouldn't soon decide to open his heart to someone or would not dare at all. I think that's why I like him so much. And that's why I like their relationship with Astarion. Gale is ready to give his all for someone he loves, and Astarion (at least this is very much in his character after so many years of hardship and suffering) will tightly hold on to what he considers his.

Of course, Gale can be persuaded to have sex with the drow twins (I checked this too), but I consider this a flaw on the part of the developers. You may not agree with me, but I think it isn't in his character.

Because a person who so vehemently argued that two lovers should be dedicated only to each other would hardly agree to such a thing. Same story with Astarion. People say he agrees to have sex with the twins once he's completely free of Cazador, but the narrator's words make it abundantly clear that he's still not into it: "his mind is miles away."

And the fact that Gale has to be persuaded… his first reactions tell a lot. This is clearly not in his character too. I would never believe that a person who kicks the cat out of the bedroom while changing clothes would easily agree to such a thing.

Most likely, the opportunity to persuade him to do something like this is necessary for the variability of the game, no more. In addition, Gale leaves his copy in a room that just watches this makingout, he takes no part in it. People might assume, of course, that he shouldn't/cannot have sex because of the orb, but there was nothing stopping him from sleeping with Astarion before they reached Baldur's Gate. However, it seems strange to me that after this he does not break up with Astarion/Tav/whoever or at least discusses the thing. It’s probably still a flaw on the part of the developers, because Gale doesn’t react to the situation at all. And this despite the fact that he only recently screamed about how he categorically does not accept such things.

Therefore, I believe that in order not to mislead people, the developers need to stick to the character's personality as they were intended. If a character is meant to be monogamous, then why do they need lines that suit polyamorous characters only? I understand that the game is variable, but this is not about the plot, but about the characters, whose personality has already been developed and established.

Just saying.

[pettyprocrastination]

here are my thoughts on a poly ship with ghost+soap and how it would begin because our heating still isnt on and it’s too cold for me to do anything productive right now

Ghost and soap began before you. You’re a newer addition to the 141 meanwhile these men have years of trauma, camaraderie, and connection that has led to a mutual relationship that has been going on for quite some time. 

Ghost doesn’t like labels. He and Soap have been together for years, will share a bed and fuck like mad before going down to the pub together to watch a game but he doesn’t call him his boyfriend or partner because he still is skittish about saying it out-loud as if it would cause something horrible to happen to Johnny. 

the classic “can’t say i love you x the person who says the soft “I know, its alright” 

Ghost is the jealous and possessive type pre-relationship when it comes to other people flirting with Soap. He gets quiet and brooding and more content to push johnny away to protect his own feelings. Once they’re in a relationship he’ll just make a dry joke about how “somebody’s popular” before fucking him stupid that same night because he doesn’t care how many people laugh at his jokes and squeeze his bicep with a lack of subtlety. He’s Simon's and Simon's alone. 

Of course, until you. 

Johnny takes to you quickly. You're smart, good in a fight and you laugh at his jokes, it’s a clear shot to friendship from their. 

He’s the mediator between the two of you, the one that sort of bridges you to Simon who is more content to be silent around you until after going through several missions with the task force you find yourself melding into the group with ease. 

Simon of course, is old enough and smart enough to see Johnny’s attraction to you. He’ll bump shoulders with you in a quiet moment with that little smile, taunt you on the mat during sparring sessions that he leaves just a bit too winded to be normal. 

It’s nothing more than a crush, really. You’re attractive and strong. He gets it. 

Doesn’t mean he likes it. But it’s not something Soap would ever act upon so he lets it be. 

Soap will make a light joke at it when they're together, that “you’ve got nothing to worry about, old man. I’m not switching you out for another pretty face anytime soon.”

Because even Simon could admit that yeah, you were easy on the eyes and good at your job. 

However there would have to be a big event to make Ghost go “okay, yeah, I’m attracted to you.” 

Rescuing one of them in an ambush, keeping them alive in a vital moment while putting your own life at risk for one of them in a way that is incredibly stupid and as a Lieutenant, he would rip you a new one for when the dust settles and wounds are tended to.

But after, he’d go back to his room and think of you until he fell asleep.

Soap sees it in his partner’s eyes a month later. You and Ghost had been sparring late at night, both battling our own demons that wouldn’t let your sleep. 

Quickly, using your own size as an advantage you were able to get him to the floor and trap him in a leg lock.

Now, Simon is twice your size and easily a hefty 220 pounds. He could have simply stood up and slammed you back into the floor until you fell limp on the ground.  

But he lays beneath you, large hands gripping the muscle of your thighs as you tighten your grip on his neck, eyes almost falling into a dark haze before he quickly taps against your calf and you release.

John Mctavish had his suspicions before, but know its clear as day to him of his partner’s desire for you. 

And knowing Simon, he’s going to have to be the one to take the first step for them both. 

[freesia-writes]

Lil Life Update for Y'all <3

I've been a lil cryptic or back-n-forth, I think, and just wanted to share a little bit about what's been going on. I say it's not for attention but who knows what motives lurk under there, LOL. It's mostly because I love you all and want to let you in, also hope that it's encouraging or connective for anyone else who's experienced the same, and also I just miss the community I have sooooo loved here. 🥹

I'm a 34yo female with 2 kids aged 4 and 7. I had depression like crazy during and after my second pregnancy especially. In Aug 2021, my primary doc suggested I try something like Zoloft since I'd been complaining of irritability, no capacity, constant worry, and other anxiety symptoms. When I did feel some relief and felt encouraged that I could "feel like myself" again, I pursued solutions for other issues I was noticing. Over the last year and a half, it's been quite a ride. ADHD symptoms led to Adderall for 4 days, then Wellbutrin for a few months, then Buspar for a few months, then Strattera (tapering up and then back down) for about 3 months, then Ritalin for 1 month, which I thought was helping until we realized that the entire month of October was basically an increasingly manic episode.

Whew.

We're talkin 2007 Britney here (ok I didn't shave it but I cut my hair off into a pixie). Spent thousands on a new wardrobe of the "dark academia" style. Bought Disneyland tickets. Invested in a photography mentorship. So much energy and inspiration. Then we realized it was getting out of hand.

I had also been tapering off a lot of the meds over the last two months, so it was just a crazy cocktail of chemicals that made my brain finally go kaput. I finished the last dose of Zoloft on November 5th, and that was the last of the meds, so now I'm off everything. My therapist thought the mania was medication-induced due to all the changes plus the addition of the stimulant, so the goal was to try to allow everything to settle down and see what "baseline" is for me right now.

And it has been frickin HARD.

Cervical vertigo. All-or-nothing sleep and appetite. Extreme sensory sensitivity. Random itchiness. Racing mind. Total inability to focus. And the worst part has been the mood swings.

I'm basically having all the symptoms of bipolar disorder in a rapid-cycle format. It may be cyclothymia, or it may be the withdrawal effects from all the meds, but regardless... It's been quite the roller coaster. The nerd in me has been fascinated by the experiential knowledge of it all, since I majored in Psychology and have always loved learning about it, but the overall negative effects on me and my family have been difficult.

I'm someone who has always relied completely on being highly capable and in control. I find my worth in my productivity and competence. And it has caused increasing stress throughout my life. I've been praying for years that God would break me of it, and I can see how he is using this to do precisely that -- lovingly trying to answer my request to be freed of this relentless pursuit of the illusion of control. He's inviting me to simple, joyful life of trust. The perspective shift is so freeing when I realize that I don't need to have it all figured out because he already does, and I can just rest in his loving guidance and look to him for the next step instead of trying to plan out every possible outcome and strategy. I went on a reflective retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains and just felt so encouraged and loved in the way he invited me to let my shoulders down and to ground myself in his warm provision and care.

But the change doesn't happen overnight.

So in the middle of a total storm of bipolar symptoms -- days of mania followed by days of depressive episodes and being so new at it all that I don't know how to navigate "normal life" with all of that -- I'm also trying to rewire 34 years' worth of the way I think and act. BUT it's a blessedly simple process: the only thing I have to worry about is this moment. I can't affect the future or the past. So all I have is right now, and I can turn to God for guidance, encouragement, insight, or anything I need in this moment, and he is so faithful to give it. But man, it's easy to forget. ;)

Literally me with that right now, trying to figure it all out on my own before I remember I can't and don't need to:

Anyway, this got LONG, surprise surprise, but I've always enjoyed being vulnerable for the sake of connection and potential encouragement. And selfishly, I'd LOVE to hear from any of you who may have had similar experiences. Right now the fixation of my [very limited] capacity is on my photography business, but I've been feeling drawn to writing more and more, and have attempted a lil drabble here and there. So I'm just patiently waiting for the inspiration to return. :)

I have so appreciated the love from you all. I also haven't been as active with reading/reblogging/supporting/etc as I was, and that's just where I'm at right now, but please know that my heart is with you even if my brain is not, LOL.

If you made it this far, you get a gold star. Or a Howzer hug. Or somethin. :)

[alexanderwales]

Book Review: Time to Orbit: Unknown

My habit of putting colons in my review titles bites me for the first but probably not last time.

Spoilers for the whole thing follow, and I think you should take that seriously, because this is largely a mystery. I'm going to assume that you read it.

Time to Orbit: Unknown is a scifi web serial by Derin Edala. The meme pitch is that this is a Very Normal Spaceship where Nothing Goes Wrong. The more conventional pitch is that our protagonist Aspen Greaves wakes up from chronostasis on a damaged colony ship with no crew in sight and has to figure things out from there.

I read TTOU basically straight through, binging rather than getting weekly installments, and some of this review will probably reflect that. Pacing is a difficult thing to start with, but it's way more difficult when you're trying to pace for two different audiences who are receiving the text in very different ways. As a binge reader, I thought the pacing was mostly fine, though did suffer a little from being formatted for serial chapters, particularly the implied cliffhanger ending to most chapters e.g. "I could only hope that everything would be fine ...". There's also a little bit of reiteration, where characters are going over what the open questions and issues are, which felt to me like it was in service of the weekly reader. As a binge reader, it was often just going over things I had read half an hour ago.

TTOU starts as a mystery. Why was Aspen woken up with no one to help them with chronostasis? Why is there no crew? Why have they been chosen to become captain in spite of their nearly complete lack of qualifications? Why are the crew dead? Where are the dead bodies?

As a mystery, the starts off really well, with a nice sequence of reveals and further questions. Aspen talks to the ship's AI, goes on some adventures around the ship, gets answers and more questions, and we gradually learn just how many weird problems this ship has.

Eventually though, the story starts running into a problem, which is that too many pressing problems get solved, and the ticking clock stops ticking. This isn't great for the pacing, and the sense of momentum temporarily leaves the story, especially because these big questions have been what's propelling it forward. As soon as it feels like we're not unraveling those, my interest started to wane. This was particularly true when characters would say "well, that's actually not a problem right now, guess we'll figure it out later".

Aspen doesn't stay alone for terribly long, and soon starts reviving other people from chronostasis, which is where we get the rest of our cast of characters from. I enjoyed these additions, though this is also the part where the serial gets very talky. There are, of course, some mysteries associated with the new crew, and I think here is where I need to talk about how TTOU handles mysteries.

To my mind, mysteries are at their best when there's a singular moment when everything snaps into focus. I like epiphanies, not necessarily from the characters, but from myself. The pieces have been presented to me, and in theory I could have solved it early on my own, but instead I get to solve it concurrently with the final piece being pushed into place. A good mystery author dangles the mystery in front of you, feeds you pieces, and then gets you to share the epiphany or at least feel smart when the protagonist rips off the villain's mask or whatever.

TTOU sometimes does this in exactly that way. There were a handful of times when I thought to myself "ah ha!" right at exactly the correct moment, which is just prior to the reveal after I had been led there by the nose.

There are other times when the reveal doesn't feel like things are snapping into place, it comes with caveats and bumps and occasionally, an admission that this was not actually a mystery at all. I might be projecting here, but writing a web serial is hard, and sometimes I would get a whiff of either course correction or bailing out. I'm tempted to go through everything I would label a "mystery" and then go through resolutions one by one, but I think that would require a partial reread of the story, would possibly not be illuminating, and might just be a matter of my own personal preferences and experience of reading. I'll give two examples though:

There's an enduring mystery of what killed off the crew of that gets locked at the front of the ship. This is one of the first mysteries in the book, and it doesn't get its resolution until very far in: they got pneumonia and don't have the medicine to treat it. While their deaths do feel like they're treated as a mystery, the reveal is not treated as much of a reveal, in spite of how longstanding the mystery was. It makes sense, but nags at me, like there was a mystery there that turned out to be a red herring. (This is probably a matter of signaling, though I'm not entirely sure.)

The captain went through and killed a bunch of sleeping colonists with an ax. His initial motivation for doing this is explained as just psychosis, and later, explained as him fighting the AI, which has been taking over the brains of colonists for use in compute. We get some additional context that his husband has been secretly put on the ship, and if the AI continued, it was going to kill him (or possibly, he was already dead). This ... still kind of doesn't work for me, as it sort of makes sense, but it doesn't feel like my understanding snapped into place. It's like someone told me the answer to the riddle and I said "eh, I guess" rather than "ah, right, that was it all along". Partly the captain is crazed, acting on emotion more than with a plan. It makes the resolution of his motivations hit a lot less hard. (I think this is at least partly an issue of how the resolution is delivered, or how it all unfolds. Maybe I would have wanted to get in the captain's head more. There are decent beats in that plot, but as a mystery it felt a little meh.)

The titular unknown time to orbit is caused by an engine problem, and this felt like a mystery, until quite late in the story someone said "oh yeah, I looked at the engine and I guess it just failed or something". It looked like a mystery, and felt like it was treated as a mystery, but it turned out to just be nothing, which made all the fuss made about it retroactively feel pointless. (Technically this is tied into future issues, but it's still essentially just an accident that no one actually intended, and felt really arbitrary and pointless to me, especially given it's one of the first mysteries we learn of.)

Overall, the various mysteries are hit and miss for me, and became more miss than hit toward the middle of the book (or what feels like the middle of the book, I'm not going to go through and get word counts).

The problems start with the revival of new crew members, particularly Captain Sands, who becomes captain due to his ranking within the AI systems. He immediately becomes a soft antagonist, and Aspen immediately takes a back seat in terms of agency. More people get revived, and they have their own stories, and then there's a hard pivot into a murder mystery, and ... this is where I sat and thought for a bit about whether I wanted to continue reading.

I think there was some good character work in the murder mystery arc, but it felt like there were too many characters, and I cared about too few of them, and our protagonist wasn't doing all that much proactive about anything. I didn't care about the victims, and the only reason I found the question of their murder compelling was the idea that this tied into some larger plot, that it would reveal some of the outstanding questions about the ship.

The resolution to what I'll call that middle chunk of the book seemed to me to be a soft reset, and I found it very welcome. The "new crew" were all dead, some old plots got somewhat messy wrapups, and we were very clearly off to new horizons. I don't have any idea if that's how it was written, but it came off as "alright, let's go back to what works".

And the good news for me was that there were more mysteries, this time as the crew reached the planet they'd been aimed at. From then on, I liked basically everything again. There's a big ask that happens in the middle, and conventional wisdom is that your scifi is Like Earth Unless Noted and that you should put your notes at the start ... but I was interested enough that I didn't mind it in this particular case.

The new planet is already settled, you see, and the how and why of that is fun to explore, as well as sort of making sense of a few earlier things that were pointed out. And the settlers have their own weird societies with their own mores and quirks, and there are culture clashes, and mysteries, and ...

For the most part, I found the sociology stuff more interesting than the mysteries. I wanted to know how these weird new people worked, how they organized their settlement, what their tax policy was like, how they made their houses and what they did in their leisure time. Thankfully, the book seemed as interested in this as I was, and while there are places that I think some readers might have found it to be "slow", I really did enjoy all the time and effort spent on describing these people and how they operated given their circumstances.

I don't know how well this all works in terms of resolutions. At least some of the outside threat is treated almost like a joke, and while there was some tension, it wasn't the sort of tension/release dynamic that I like in my stories, just tension followed by things going right in spite of that tension, with not much feeling of climax. I didn't particularly mind that though. And in the end the ship gets retrofitted, and Aspen becomes the new AI, and it all felt to me like it fit, even if there's quite a bit of fridge logic about why they couldn't just stay on the planet, and what a slow death as a generation ship might look like.

So all in all, I think I enjoyed the story, if less than I hoped I would. The beginning was a banger, made retroactively a little weaker by some of the resolutions to the mysteries. The middle was a slump, but after the soft reset, I was much more enamored with the story, and glad that I didn't actually put it down. I liked it better when it wasn't trying to be a mystery, when it was about the characters and the engineering, the vibes and an interesting future.

(It probably suffers a little bit from me comparing it to the last "woke up on a spaceship with dead people and no idea what's going on" book I read, Project Hail Mary, which was not written under the constraints of webfic.)

[peaches2217]

A Call from the Balcony

AO3 Link!

~~~

“Ah, your highness!” Toadsworth greeted. “You’re in a bit late, aren’t you? No matter! Before you retire to your chambers there’s a few things I wanted to— y-your highness? Your highness!”

His voice quickly faded behind Peach as she passed him, her pace quickening into a brisk walk, then a light jog, then a run. She would apologize later, she decided. Toadsworth was never very far. There would be plenty of time to explain away her actions and listen to whatever it was he intended to yammer on about.

She didn’t have the same luxury at her disposal right now. This mission was time-sensitive. She hiked her skirts up and ran as quickly as her shoes would permit, the heels clacking frantically against the marble floors; she thought for a moment of kicking them off so she could sprint, but she would lose as much time in the act as she would gain from the additional mobility.

And anyway, the next corner she rounded brought her face-to-face with her target destination. She burst through the entrance to her drawing room, stumbled into her bedroom, and threw aside her balcony doors, rushing to the railing and praying she wasn’t too late.

The darkness outside made color difficult to perceive, but she recognized the red-and-blue silhouette crossing the bridge over the castle's moat all the same. A grin split her face from ear to ear.

“Mario!”

He startled, as though her call had pulled him from some deep train of thought, and quickly turned to face her. She swore his eyes lit up at the sight of her, and that filled her with an unprecedented joy, so intense that her head buzzed and warmth blossomed in her chest.

She paused then, fighting back a sudden wave of panic. She hadn’t thought of anything to say.

In truth, they had only parted ways a few minutes earlier. Today had been a rare and wonderful day in which they’d never once left each other’s side. A meeting with a foreign diplomat that morning meant Mario had arrived bright and early to serve as her guard; the uneventful meeting ended just before 1:00 in the afternoon, so she had invited him to share lunch with her before she had to bury herself in administrative paperwork. Mario himself had offered to keep her company and make the tedious task more bearable, and thanks to the constant joking and frequent mental shifts from the topics they were supposed to be focused on, the sun hung low in the sky by the time she finished. She had then offered dinner for his troubles, and he agreed on the condition that they take a short walk afterward — “Nothing worse than being cooped up like that all day,” he’d said, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, and she couldn’t help but agree.

An hour after the sun had gone to bed, she finally and reluctantly bid him farewell, because she had already taken up his entire day and he didn’t seem willing to leave without her permission. Yet she missed him as soon as they parted, and by the time she was inside, she made up her mind that she needed to see him one last time.

Now Mario was staring up at her, clearly expecting a reason for being stopped so soon after being excused, and Peach could think of nothing but Every moment with you never feels like enough.

What would he say to that? Would he laugh? Would he be embarrassed? Would he feel the same way?

“I… forgot to tell you!” she finally said after what felt like an eternity of wracking her mind for excuses. “The main fountain in the garden has sprung a leak. I fear it will face irreparable damage if it isn’t fixed by about 2:30 tomorrow afternoon!”

Another pause, this time as Mario processed her announcement, and she witnessed the exact moment he realized it was actually an invitation — his eyes widened in understanding, and then he gave a single, firm nod. “You can count on me, Princess!” he called back.

Already Peach’s heart felt lighter. What would she invite him to do? She could get up early to bake his favorite coffee cakes and they could share them in her favorite gazebo. Or perhaps she could pack them and a bottle of wine into a wicker basket and escape the castle grounds with him for a few hours. Tomorrow’s weather was supposed to be lovely, perfect for an impromptu picnic. Or they could always just do as they had done tonight, pacing about in the fields behind the castle as they discussed any and every topic that ran through their heads.

She supposed she had a bit of time to choose. It would be rude to keep him waiting in the meantime.

“Forgive me for holding you up,” she called.

“Never!” he called in return. “It’s always a pleasure!”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?” She backed away from the railing, giving him silent permission to break away, and she noted with a pang of amusement that he took a single step back as well, as though mimicking her.

“Of course! Can’t have that fountain breaking down, now, can we?”

She took another experimental step. Mario followed suit. Did he even realize he was doing it?

“Then stay safe going home!” Another step.

“Oh, I think I can manage!” The same step, mirrored.

“Sleep well!”

“May your dreams be sweeter than cannoli cream!”

“And may your night be equally pleasant!”

“Buonanotte, amabile principessa!”

“You too! I think!”

Mario laughed, and considering they were still calling out to one another while Peach’s back was inches from the doorframe, she laughed as well. She never wanted this game of call-and-response to end. But what other choice did they have? Mario pulled his cap from his head and waved with it, one final, wordless farewell, and Peach scrambled for her handkerchief to return the gesture. Like a noblewoman seeing her lover off, she couldn't help but think.

Eventually, Mario turned in the opposite direction, though his actions seemed slow, almost thoughtful, and he kept his eyes on her until his body’s change in position forced his head forward. Like a noblewoman’s lover desperate to drink in her image one last time. The thought made Peach’s throat feel tight.

If only…

She watched in silence as Mario walked out of sight, his cap seemingly forgotten in his right hand. She absently clutched at her handkerchief in her left and sighed. “Goodnight, Mario,” she whispered into the night.

~~~

“Guys don’t just stare at girls until they physically can’t anymore if they don’t feel something for them,” Toadette weighed in half an hour later, brushing the last of a handful of tangles from Peach’s hair. Peach just sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

“Something about my posture must have been amusing to him,” she reasoned. “Or I was simply imagining it. You know how time slows when he leaves.”

Toadette stepped down from her step stool to set the ornate hairbrush on the vanity, and Peach tore her eyes from her own miserable reflection to watch as she fetched a bottle of argan oil, only to disappear behind her again. 

“You of all people have no reason to sell yourself short.” Tiny fingers massaged her scalp as Toadette worked the oil through her hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed at the familiar sensation. “You’re a princess, for crying out loud! You know how many men dream of becoming your suitor? What makes you think Mario’s any different?”

The answer was obvious, Peach felt, but tonight she felt more tempted than ever to think maybe her lady-in-waiting had a point. “Because I’m not just a princess to him,” she said, more to herself than to Toadette. “I’m a cherished friend, a trusted confidant, an equal.” 

“And nothing’s going to convince you otherwise.”

“Nothing short of him saying any differently himself.” When Peach opened her eyes, her reflection looked tired, sad. She couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “It’s a bit cruel, honestly. Knowing one of the reasons I love him so much is one of the very same reasons he could never return those affections.”

Now it was Toadette's turn to sigh.

That night, Peach settled into bed and fell asleep quickly, an overstuffed pillow hugged tightly to her chest. She remained blissfully unaware of the scuffle just outside of her door.

“I’m telling him everything!” Toadette cried, writhing in vain against Toad’s grasp on her wrist.

“Don’t you dare!” Toad pulled with all of his might, managing to drag her a few inches back before she lurched forward again.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

“You think I don’t get an earful of lovesick rambling every day too?!”

“By the stars, if they can’t take a hint, I’ll make them see the light myself!”

“This has to happen organically! On its own! You can’t rush love!”

“I can and I will!”

On the opposite side of the door, Peach dreamed of a warm summer day sharing coffee cakes with the man she loved more than life itself. She smiled in her sleep and hugged her pillow closer.

[whispangleblogger]

I am not somebody that hops onto the "comic discourse" a lot. I usually prefer to talk things through with my friends and share opinions in private.

But since Tangle more or less got ignored so far i take the chance and talk a bit about her appearance in 64

She jumps in as a supportive character towards Whisper and helps her to prevent another breakdown. While yes, there was a scene in Urban Warfare that did the exact same thing, i feel like with issue 64 we finally see how strong of an impact this support actually has on the page. (I talk a bit more about Urban Warfare further down this post.) I don't even dare and call this bait (Edit: Not my words btw. i saw this used in another heated post. I personally never felt baited in any form. If anything, the girls relationship is one big highlight in these comics.) because it simply isn't. Here is a character that cares for her partner and also is uncomfortable with the whole situation to begin with. She has to decide where her priorities lie. Her reaction is to be expected to be focused on a trembling Whisper and all i can say is i'm glad we finally have a good depiction of that.

Tangle has the right to approach Whisper in ways i think no other character is able to, she earned it and it pretty much shows on this page. Softly taking down Whisper's mask and checking on her, the body language in these panels is chefs kiss. She's truly a bouncy girl, but it's good to see her being serious every now and then, i feel like it's a side of her that people usually tend to ignore. (And i really don't know why that is.) Evan Stanley does always an amazing job if it comes to showing Tangle in a different light or how she cares about her friends and loved ones. In regards about the current arc and even the last one, i feel like this post is a good chance to add my personal take to it as well, since it's been on my mind for a good while now. I feel like 64 finally makes a step into the right direction again.

To elaborate a little on that, i wasn't really a big fan of Urban Warfare, simply for the fact that it's pacing is all over the place. There were a lot of things that needed to be covered, to name a few: - new team building - Whisper's trauma - Lanolin introduced as a new character - a LOT of other teams jumping into the scene - the city itself all squeezed into a 5 book arc. One more book compared to a mini series that usually gives full focus to a set of chosen characters.

To make this clear, there are also good things in Urban Warfare as well but thanks to the fact how rushed the whole story felt in it's core it's a bit hard to enjoy the good bits as well...

Misadventures still deals with the same pacing problem and i believe that is where the real issue lies. As a reader/collector of the books and longtime fan of them, all i can say is:

I wish the comics would get their old, well cared, time for details back. Yes, a story like the Metal Virus was a long run but in the end it was a fantastic read. Mini arcs like Trial by Fire (Still one of my favorites), that focus on other things instead of the usual action, are also very important for character development and add a lot of depth to them. Endless Summer is a great example for such addition as well. These books provide insight into character interaction we usually don't see otherwise. Of course i have no idea how much SEGA is involved into everything if it comes to general decisions like how long one arc is supposed to last and when the next one should start.

(The next part is based on my personal taste, this has nothing to do with the general narrative of the books. I just want to share my thoughts about this since i really don't write them down a lot.)

As a little side note, i feel like Lanolin is a great character so far. Her stubborn and rule book like demeanor as a leader is refreshing to say the least. She also seems to be really close to how her creator ABT imagines her to be and i really appreciate that. But i can't help it and feel like her team dynamic with Tangle and Whisper comes of as rather… rocky ? On a combat level of things it works really good but on a friendship level it's somehow lacking atm. There is this boss and coworker relationship going on that feels more like real work. Obviously though she's new and needs more time to get better established. I guess we will see how this plays out in the future. I'm all in for a good or funny team dynamic but i also can't help it and feel like she works better as an addition to Jewel, running the restoration, the navigator typ that sends intel via com instead of a field combatant. Even if she proved she's good at close combat as well during her encounter with Whisper in 64. That being said, i am all open for surprises and more character development on her part. This is really just a "now" opinion and can easily change over time. I like the sheep, i really do.

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (19)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]  

[warnings: mention of sex, fluff, swearing, mention of rape]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist  

_____

Aemond sat in his car in silence. The fury he felt at Marcus for his words and refusal was slowly leaving him. It was beginning to dawn on him that he was right. That he allowed his anger and desire for revenge to obscure his rational thinking and the vision of what losses he could suffer if he made a mistake. 

He wanted nothing more than to give Albert a good punch and then watch the police handcuff him, but he knew that this would only bring him temporary relief, not solve the whole problem. In addition, he would bring great danger to himself and his family. And to Y/N.

Marcus wanted to do it another way, to infiltrate him from head to toe, check all his tax returns, his misdemeanors, his assets. He said it was only a matter of time before they found something on him, and his men were following Albert, watching his every move. He said that if Albert tried to meet Y/N again, his people would stop him and, with their own hands, discourage him from pestering her any further.

"The most important thing is not to do anything with mine hands or yours. Just the fact that you beat him up, even though you had every right to do it, will nourish him. It has to be done by outsiders. If the situation becomes unbearable, I will make sure that Albert disappears one day and will never be found. But I want it to be a last resort because it will cast a shadow over my whole life and yours."

He sighed heavily, hitting the back of his head against the backrest. He closed his eye. The vibration of his phone woke him from his thoughts. He took it out of his leather jacket and saw that his mother had called him. He sighed heavily, knowing what that meant. She had called him, instead of texting him, only on one occasion. Still, he picked up.

"I'm listening, mom."

He heard a sigh on the other side. He knew she was ashamed to ask him the same thing again.

"Aegon didn't come home last night, nor was he at work. He shows no sign of life. Will you check where he is?" She asked softly, as if hoping her pleading tone of voice would make her request less upsetting to him. 

Aemond squeezed his eye shut in frustration. He wanted to tell her to drive around the brothels herself and look for him, but out of respect for her, such words would never leave his lips. He sighed heavily.

"I'll see what I can do." He said and hung up without letting her say anything. Disgusted and pissed, he started the engine and drove straight to the place that came to mind.

He drove for several minutes until he reached the suburbs. He stopped in front of a rather dingy tenement house and went inside. He headed for the basement, which was decorated all over with red signs and inscriptions. Before downstairs half-naked women smoked cigarettes. They called to him, but he simply avoided them by running downstairs.

He walked into a large room that smelled of cigarettes, sweat, and something else he didn't want to think about right now. On the couches and the floor sat men and women, half-naked or naked, playing with each other in all kinds of ways, drinking and injecting various substances into their veins. 

The women wore heavy make-up, their clothes had intense, provocative colors. Aemond wanted to vomit. He walked a bit and saw that his brother was sucked to the breast of one of the girls, completely drunk, who was stroking his hair, dreaming.

Aemond yanked him hard and hauled him up. Aegon started to struggle, but he was numb and nearly fell over. Aemond grabbed him and held him upright, but Aegon was literally spilling over his hands. Aemond decided it wasn't just alcohol, and he must have taken something stronger as well. All he felt was disgust.

“My little brother comes to the rescue as usual. But do I want to be saved?" He mumbled, spreading his hands theatrically. Aemond tugged at his shirt, leading him toward the exit.

"Shut up. We’re leaving." He said through clenched teeth, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. But Aegon was staggering, and their journey stretched on forever.

"Oh look, look who's there." He exclaimed, pointing at a woman who was just riding some already heavily drunk guy. "I'm sure you remember, she was your first fuck." He said amused, barely looking with his drunk eyes. Aemond pursed his lips as he saw the woman Aegon had taken him to when he was only fifteen. His brother decided it was time he saw what pleasure meant. He had experienced nothing of the sort there except humiliation.

"Hard to forget." He blurted out through clenched teeth and pushed him up the stairs. "Up." He ordered and helped him up the steps. Somehow he managed to throw him into the backseat of his car. He laid down on it, sighing heavily and rubbing his eyes. Aemond got in from the driver's side and started the engine. He felt his whole body stink after a few minutes there.

"How's your girlfriend?" Aegon asked slowly, yawning. "I have to admit, she's quite pretty. If you get bored of her, let me know, she looks tight.”

Aemond squeezed his eye shut, feeling that he was about to kill his own brother. His jaw clenched so hard it felt like it would burst.

"Close. Your. Fucking. Mouth." He fired a warning. Aegon laughed and rolled onto his back, covering his eyes. He soon fell asleep, snoring loudly. 

Aemond drove him home and helped his mother usher him into the living room. His mother covered him with a blanket and sighed, stroking her shoulder. There was pain and emptiness in her eyes. Aemond had no strength to comfort her. He said good-bye and, ignoring her pleading look, left the house.

His mother always cried on his shoulder. She told him about his father, about his brother, about everything that worried her. Aemond knew that she and his father didn’t love each other. His father still loved his ex-wife. She left him when he chose the company over her. Aemond thought she had done the right thing.

He thought as he got in the car that he wasn't surprised at all that he couldn't tell how he felt about Y/N for so long. How would he know he loved her if he didn't see any healthy relationship on a daily basis. His father never looked at his mother the way he looked at Y/N. He had never wanted her like that. 

They respected each other, but he wasn't sure if his parents even really liked each other. The thought hit him. On the other hand, he thought it was their life and if they wanted to waste it in such a shitty way, that was their business. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Y/N's number. She answered after a few rings, her voice warm. Aemond was silent for a moment.

"Will you get drunk with me?"

***

Until now, Aemond had allowed himself to drink large amounts of alcohol only around Klaus and Criston. He trusted them and wasn't afraid that they would somehow use what he got out of his drunken gibberish. He was usually able to stop drinking at the right moment and never had a black out, but he preferred to be cautious. 

With women he sometimes drank wine, beer or a drink, but only for the company, not for drinking itself and not in large quantities. This time he felt like he just wanted to go with Y/N to the bar and get drunk.

He was tired. He wanted to see her, maybe even tell her what was bothering him. He knew the alcohol would help loosen his tongue a bit. Normally he would have invited her to his club, but everyone knew him there, so he wouldn't be able to relax. He chose a bar near his apartment, quite famous and frequented, where it was easy to get lost in the crowd. Just what he needed. 

They agreed that he would take a shower and pick her up, then leave the car and walk there.

"What time are you scheduled for tomorrow?" He asked, as they walked side by side down the street, out of the garage, the evening was already starting around them and the first street lamps were lighting up.

"On 13." She replied calmly. She was dressed in a tight striped T-shirt and high-waisted black jeans that showed off her waist so well.

"All right." He replied, pleased that it was not an earlier hour. "I'll drive you."

Aemond opened the door to the place and let her go first. Music from the 80's was playing in the background, even though the evening was just beginning, it was already very crowded. Several of the men glanced at Aemond in amusement, probably thinking his eye patch was some sort of disguise, but he didn't care. They both sat down at the bar, glancing at the selection of alcoholes in front of them, which was spread out on shelves along the wall.

"What do you want to drink? I pay." He said calmly, looking at her. Y/N looked at him with furrowed brows.

"No way, I'll pay for myself." She said dissatisfied with this idea. Aemond sighed.

"We can arrange for you to pay next time." He said leaning down. Their arms touched. Y/N rested her chin on his shoulder so that their faces were very close.

"Fine. Just don't try to cheat afterwards." She said, frowning. Aemond smiled from the corner of his mouth.

"I will not." He said and leaned down. He kissed her hungrily, placing his hand over hers on the counter and she reciprocated the gesture with a contented sigh, squeezing his hand. They broke apart as a bearded bartender approached them, throwing a rag over his shoulder. 

They finally managed to pick out some drinks, which the bartender made in front of them without saying a word. Aemond chose a whiskey he'd never tasted before, while Y/N chose a drink made of vodka, mango juice, and orange juice. She took a sip and made a sound of contentment.

"Tasty." She said with a smile. They drank in silence for a while. She saw that Aemond was struggling to say something to her. She was very glad that he had invited her of his own accord, and she had no intention of rushing him into anything. She knew that the confession she heard from him many times during the night and their conversation cost him a lot and she wanted to give him as much space as possible, to find himself again in all this. She needed it herself.

“Today I pulled my brother out of the brothel. He didn't show up for work today and my distraught mother called me to look for him." He said with a hint of amusement and regret in his voice, toying with his glass in his hand. Y/N looked at him in surprise, her face expressing sympathy.

"Aegon does that often?" She asked uncertainly. Aemond chuckled.

"The brothel is his second home."

Y/N swallowed silently, taking a sip of her drink. Aemond glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, watching her reaction. She pursed her lips, trying to put into words what she wanted to say.

"I'm sorry you're the little brother and you have to be his nanny. I can only imagine how frustrating it is. Klaus burns with shame even when I see him too drunk." She said softly, looking at him with understanding. 

Her brother, although he loved to have fun and often took her to various parties, even if he was going somewhere with a girl, he asked his friends to watch her during this time. He always felt responsible for her. She couldn't imagine having to follow him around brothels, pulling him out of the hands of prostitutes.

“When I first saw you and Klaus talking to each other, I thought I was going to explode with jealousy. Until I met you, I didn't know that this is how a sibling relationship can look like.” He grunted as he took a sip of his whiskey.

Y/N looked at him surprised. He never showed it. She wondered what else he was thinking as he looked at them.

"Well, it's not always perfect. But I know I can always count on him and he on me. We often formed a united front against our parents." She said calmly, looking absently in front of her. Aemond glanced at her, debating whether to ask the question that had been bothering him for a long time.

"Why did you move out of your family home?" He asked, looking at her curiously. He knew she'd come to Klaus before she went to University, so that wasn't why she had moved. Y/N swallowed softly.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." He added, feeling that perhaps this was too personal question after all. Y/N just shook her head and cleared her throat.

“Our parents were practically never at home, they loved their jobs. And they loved each other. Of course, they love us too, but not that much. At least me and Klaus always felt that way. Maybe it's even better, because I guess the kids will leave home anyway, and you'll stay with your other half forever, until old age." She shrugged, analyzing her words. She never really thought about it herself, so she told him exactly what she felt. Aemond listened attentively. 

"But they didn't give us as much attention as the parents of other children in our schools. We used to see them once or twice a week at home, because they were away for meetings or just staying late at the office. Edward, my dad's oldest bodyguard, stayed with us, he was kind of our nanny." She said, a slight warm smile on her face at the memory. "He and Klaus used to come to my shows, my graduation. They were the ones who commented on my first drawings and read me to sleep. Edward taught us to cook, clean, tie shoelaces, did our homework with us. He was like our grandfather.” She sighed softly as she took a sip of her drink. 

“One day Edward's son died, and he was plunged into grief that he was unable to cope with. Edward began to drink a lot, there were a lot of vodka and wine bottles scattered around our house. One day our father came back unannounced and when he saw it, he just kicked him out. Klaus never forgave him for that. He then shouted at him that Edward was more his father than he was. My father hit him, Klaus packed up and left the next day. He was supposed to move to college anyway, but this event sped up the process.” She said, staring blankly ahead, her mind completely in those memories.

“My father called him and apologized, but Klaus wouldn't listen to him. Dad even tried to bring Edward back, but he didn't want to leave his daughter-in-law and granddaughter. Edward called me sometimes, asking how I was doing, and he does it all the time. But without Klaus, I couldn't stand this empty house. We were both suffering, so one day, without telling my parents, I went to see him. I was supposed to stay just for the weekend.” She said and fell silent, giving him an amused look full of sadness.

Now he understood why they were so attached to each other - it had been so from the very beginning. He was both of her parents in a way, and Edward was theirs for him. Klaus didn't get attached to women easily, he and Aemond were similar in that regard. Still, it always amazed Aemond that Klaus took her everywhere with him. 

She was his younger sister, his friends were nothing like her or shared her interests, but he was never ashamed of her. What's more, he seemed to enjoy her company more than if he was alone with them or with the woman he had just briefly had an affair with.

When she was around, he was constantly joking with her, tormenting her in his own way, and she didn't owe him, so they kept laughing. Their company and manner always made everyone feel better, because it was obvious at first glance that it wasn't for show. They really acted like this every day. 

Y/N also had an ability that immediately caught his attention - namely, talking about anything with joy and optimism, making sure no one was uncomfortable around her. Even he had exchanged a few words with her when they were alone at the table for a while at a party, usually about some light things, but he didn't mind, because she did it unobtrusively and with humor. Her voice snapped her out of his thoughts.

"Why does your father think you might get bored of your club?" She asked, recalling his statement from the banquet. Aemond tought for a moment and chuckled to himself as he took a sip of his whiskey.

“Because according to him, everything I do is my invention. Something to boost my low self-esteem. Because if I was sane and straight minded, I'd be working for his company, like Aegon." He said, giving her a knowing look. 

He looked over her shoulder and suddenly froze. He looked closely, not sure if he was imagining or really seeing that woman there. He swallowed, thought that she had changed, but that face he would remember for the rest of his life. He felt his heart pounding wildly, a cold sweat trickling down his neck. Y/N noticed that he suddenly turned pale. She put a hand on his shoulder gently, but he didn't move.

"Aemond, what's happend?" She asked scared and turned her gaze to where he was looking. On the other side of the bar sat a woman who looked like his mother's age. She was talking to a boy who could not have been more than 18 years old. She was stroking his arm, and he was talking to her, embarrassed. Y/N swallowed softly and looked at him uncertainly.

"That's her." He said in a low, trembling voice. "That's the fucking whore who tried to rape me 8 years ago."

___

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