#thank you for giving me an excuse to opine about this

[addictedtostorytelling]

hi aj! hope you're doing well ❤ i always love your theories and interpretations and i was thinking... what do you think grissom and sara's story would have been like if grissom had not stayed her supervisor, back in season 1? like if sara had indeed come to vegas but he did not remain her superior at work. do you think he'd have acted on his feelings sooner than he did in canon? thanks ❤

hi, anon!

thank you for your kind words! i'm so glad you enjoy my work. i hope you're doing well, too. ❤

re: your question:

so, to me, the fact that grissom and sara do eventually have a romantic relationship for two+ years while he is still very much actively her supervisor suggests deference to that particular rule is never really a main issue in keeping them apart in the beginning.

grissom's behavior during s5/s6/s7 insinuates: had he otherwise felt ready to date sara during the first four and a half years she lived in vegas, he likely would have done so (albeit perhaps in secret), department policy be damned.

grissom might list the "but i can't! i'm her boss!" excuse when he is attempting to rationalize to himself why he shouldn't act on his feelings for sara, but at the end of the day, that's all that it is—an excuse.

when he finally works through his real hang-ups that are preventing him from having that relationship, he no longer allows his employment status to hold him back at all.

he dates the fuck out of that girl while he is still giving her annual performance reviews and signing off on her overtime requests, and, honestly? he seems relatively unfussed about doing so.

he is not so much of a rule-follower as to lose sleep over flaunting department policy.

that so, i don't think it's necessarily a given that removing that specific impediment to their relationship would get grissom and sara together any faster than is the case in canon, not unless he also simultaneously were to overcome the real obstacle that is holding him back from giving in to his heart anyhow—namely, his fear of rejection.

see, for as much as grissom points to the department policy forbidding romantic relationships between members of the same forensics team as the or at least a main reason why he shouldn't romantically pursue sara, in reality the thing that really holds him back from jumping in with both feet with her is his deep-seated fear that her love for him is conditional/impermanent.

he fears that despite sara wanting him now, she may not always in the future continue to want him—and especially not once she "draws back the curtain" and gets a full view of him, including his (what he views as) egregious personal flaws.

before sara moves to vegas, her view of grissom is an incredibly limited one, and he is highly aware of this fact. she only gets to see/interact with him in person at conferences and over long weekends, and their communication outside of those brief intervals is otherwise relegated to phone calls, emails, and letters; insulated, as it were, by distance and time.

with 500+ miles between them 99% of the year, she doesn't possess the kind of up-close vantage of him that might allow her to otherwise recognize his (as he opines) numerous failing points and deficiencies of character; she only has access to an idealized version of him—“conference grissom,” who has only to refrain from making a fool of himself in her presence for just a few hours or days at a time before he can retreat back to his safe and secluded everyday life (without her) across state lines and regroup before their next fleeting encounter.

for as long as grissom only interacts with sara on such a limited basis, he is fairly confident in his ability to keep her interest. after all, it's easy to put his best foot forward for such modest periods of time, and particularly when he is "in his element" attending conferences or breezing in for short, romantic visits.

however, once grissom—somewhat impulsively—invites sara to move to his city and join his forensics team, he no longer has that barrier of distance to shield him.

now sara is living and working every night in close proximity to him, and suddenly he has to be "on" in her presence all the time.

she's seeing him not only bathed in the limelight of conference stages but under the dingy, unflattering fluorescents of their shared place of work, oftentimes in fraught and stressful situations.

even far more socially-adept persons than he would have a hard time consistently impressing under such high-stakes circumstances, so considering his (in his view) numerous deficits where the interpersonal element is concerned, he can't help but worry that sooner or later, he is going to do something to slip up and shatter her illusions of him as this charming, romantic, mature man-about-town, instead showing himself to her for what he really is—a misanthropic, socially-awkward old fogey who has never been in a long-term romantic/sexual relationship in his life.

of course, for as fearful as he is that once she sees the "real him," her attraction to him will evaporate, he can't (because he is still ultimately in love with her) 100% keep himself from getting close to her all the same, which is why, even once she begins working for him, he still flirts with her and shows his attraction to her and even occasionally makes her backwards declarations of love, all but in spite of himself, never mind that he ought to probably rein in that kind of behavior if he wants to keep things strictly platonic between them.

however, for as much as he does blur the lines, he does still try to split the difference by keeping their interactions relegated to the workplace.

he won't allow himself to "cross the threshold" and take her home with him—not when he supposes that if he were to do so, she would finally see everything he is trying to keep hidden from her.

even with her "just" being his subordinate and working with him every night, she is still observing more of him than he truly feels comfortable with, but at least there are some boundaries/parameters; at least most of what she's observing is located within the realm of the professional.

if he were, however, to have a relationship with her outside of work, then those last barriers would be gone, and she would have access to everything—and the idea that she would terrifies him.

his great nightmare is that if he were to choose to throw caution to the wind, break those departmental rules, and commence a romantic relationship with sara, sacrificing his career and professional reputation and familiar lifestyle in order to do so, the center would not hold.

she might stay with him for a few weeks or months or even years if he were lucky, but in his opinion, it is inevitable that someday—once she realized what she had really gotten herself into with him—she would leave him.

and then he would ultimately end up with nothing—neither the career he sacrificed for the girl nor the girl herself.

he assumes he is so unworthy of sara—too old for her, too misanthropic, too "dark inside," too inexperienced in love/sex, too insufficiently human, etc.—that there is no way she would want to remain with him forever.

she would put up with him for a while, until she got wise to just how many failing points he has, and then she would book.

and he knows he wouldn't be able to cope when she did.

losing her once he has had her would absolutely break him.

so that's the actual major reason™ why he holds back from being with her for so long—because he figures it's somehow easier never to have her than to have her only to subsequently lose her.

he's preempting what he views as the inevitable rejection by not putting himself into a position to be rejected by her in the first place.

can't reject what you don't have, right?

now.

the way i see things, grissom only gets to the point where he is ready to be with sara once he finally conquers his fear of rejection and a) realizes that sara's love for him is in fact unconditional, all of his flaws notwithstanding, and, b) comes to understand that his care for her well-being outweighs any fears or trepidations he had regarding his own.

in canon, he reaches those particular watermarks only after the gsr emotional roller coaster that is their s3/s4 arc, circa the events of episodes 05x12 "snakes"—when sara confirms to him (in so many words) that despite all of his missteps with her over the years, she does still love him and want to be with him—and 05x13 "nesting dolls"—when he is finally posed with the choice that for four and a half years he has been avoiding, namely to play things safe and prioritize his career over sara yet again or to put it all on the line her, and he at last chooses the latter option.

getting back to your original question, then: would grissom not being sara's boss cause him to get together with her any sooner?

not necessarily.

not just by itself, per se.

but let's say him not being her boss leads him into circumstances where he arrives at those emotional conclusions sooner than he does in canon.

well, then the answer to your question might be yes.

so with all of the above in mind, i've got an example of a scenario where i think grissom not being sara's boss might result in him getting together with sara sooner due to the way it would influence the events of the canon timeline.

conjecture after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

__

okay.

so this scenario is just one of multiple possible scenarios that could work to give non-supervisor grissom that emotional push he would need to pursue a relationship with sara early on.

it hinges on how grissom not being promoted to night shift supervisor in episode 01x01 "pilot" might affect the course of events in the episodes immediately subsequent.

now.

i of course understand, from a storytelling perspective, why the events of the first three episodes of csi transpire in the way that they do.

from a narrative perspective, the writers very much wanted to start the show with an earthshaking event—with the team dynamics being reshuffled and grissom (the main character) getting thrust into a leadership role he doesn't either want or feel prepared for; with everyone experiencing "growing pains" as they adjust to a new normal.

that's fertile ground for storytelling. there's lots of narrative tension in a situation like that one and many opportunities for character development to be had.

that said, there are some parts of those initial three episodes that are not particularly believable just from a "that's not what would probably happen in real life" standpoint, namely:

in real life, brass most likely would not lose his supervisory position at csi and be reassigned to homicide without there being any kind of departmental investigation into his conduct and leadership surrounding the events of the shooting (and especially not before holly gribbs had even actually died).

in real life, grissom, who had never actually expressed interest in a supervisory position, much less applied for one, most likely would not have been automatically and permanently promoted to the role of night shift supervisor following brass's demotion, and especially not without the department running any kind of official hiring search (even just nominally) beforehand.

in real life, there would have almost certainly been an internal affairs investigation into the entire debacle, with focus placed on both brass's and warrick's conducts.

in real life, it most likely would not have been grissom's sole purview to investigate warrick's conduct (or to bring in sara to do so as his proxy).

in real life, it most likely would not have been grissom's sole purview to decide, once said investigation were concluded, if warrick kept his job or not—and particularly not in light of the fact that in sara's official report on warrick's conduct, she does find him negligent.

in real life, most likely, warrick would either have lost his job or, at the very least, been served a lengthy suspension and faced with other (not insubstantial) disciplinary action.

in real life, while it is not completely impossible that grissom could fully hire sara in less than two weeks' time*, it is still somewhat of a stretch to imagine that he could; more likely, it would take him somewhat longer to complete that process (and get all of her background checks, drug testing, fingerprinting, onboarding paperwork, firearms and lab safety proficiency certifications, departmental training modules, tax forms, etc. completed).

in real life, again, while not completely impossible, it is still somewhat unrealistic that sara quits her job at the sfpd and moves across state lines to start her new job with the lvpd all within less than two weeks.

* the events of episode 01x02 "cool change" take place on approximately 10.16.00 within the universe of the show, while the events of episode 01x03 "crate n' burial" take place on approximately 10.29.00 within the universe of the show.

show canon compresses/truncates/fudges all of those processes for the sake of moving the story along and also allows grissom a lot more power to make unilateral administrative decisions regarding his team than in real life he would be likely to have, working at one of the biggest, most prestigious, most bureaucratic state crime labs in the country.

so looping back around to our au, let's imagine a scenario where things happen in a somewhat more "true to life" way than they do in actual show canon.

let's say that instead of being immediately reassigned to homicide in the wake of the gribbs shooting, brass is instead placed on administrative leave pending an investigation into his conduct and leadership.

meanwhile, grissom is made acting pro tempore shift supervisor in his stead.

internal affairs immediately launches its own investigation into the circumstances of the shooting, with focus placed both on brass's and warrick's conducts and potential culpability.

warrick is also placed on administrative leave pending investigation.

grissom, in his pro tempore role, does not have the authority to launch any kind of official investigation into the circumstances surrounding the shooting. however, knowing warrick as he does, he already has a hunch about what might have happened. realizing that the internal affairs investigation will move "at the slow speed of government," he decides to get out ahead of it and find out for himself what happened. he therefore brings on sara as a consultant, having her examine warrick's conduct on his behalf in a more unofficial capacity.

essentially, what he wants her to find out for him is how likely it is that once everything is said and done warrick will lose his job.

as is the case in canon, grissom also reaches out to sara on a more subconscious level because she is the one thing during this otherwise very turbulent, distressing time that makes him feel at all safe, and he wants to keep her close, like a human security blanket.

sara conducts her investigation and quickly determines, as is the case in canon, that warrick abandoned holly gribbs at her crime scene in order to go place an off-site sports bet. she submits her report to grissom, giving him the heads up that if ia's findings are similar to hers, then there's a good chance warrick will not emerge from the situation professionally unscathed.

she then returns to san francisco.

but.

since she is now personally involved in the case and has seen up-close how it is affecting grissom, even once she leaves las vegas, she and grissom remain in almost constant contact, talking on the phone for hours after every shift, with him updating her on the latest developments and her emotionally supporting him through what is still a very difficult time, while he is temporarily in charge of what is now a severely understaffed and emotionally compromised forensics team.

if you think catherine and nick are taking all of these developments in stride, they are very much not™.

though his typical mo is to play things close to the chest, during this period of extreme upset, grissom almost can't help himself but to open up to sara. on their calls, he finds himself word-vomiting revealing very intimate things to her and allowing himself to be candid and vulnerable in ways that normally he might never be. he expresses his frustrations with the department's handling of the case to her—don't they realize that by suspending warrick, they've now made it so the team is technically down two criminalists instead of just one?—and his regrets concerning gribbs's demise. he starts to really rely on sara and unveil himself to her, including his doubts and trepidations regarding himself as a leader, especially in such emotionally fraught circumstances as these.

letting her "see him" in all of this emotional nakedness is terrifying to him at first, but what he is pleasantly surprised to find is not only does she not judge him for expressing what he views as his own weaknesses but she also has this uncanny ability to build him up and know just what to say to validate and encourage him. the advice she offers is patient and sound, and her perspectives are simultaneously logical and compassionate. she always seems to know just what to say and just how to help him, even from afar.

he had already felt very close to her from the first time they met, but now it's like they've unlocked this new level of intimacy.

their conversations branch out from just the gribbs situation into other areas of their lives. sara even starts to disclose things to grissom about herself that he had never known before.

not her whole life story but hints of it, more than she had let on in the past, certainly.

eventually, grissom starts to get the idea that maybe sara is just as lonely as he is, and, especially considering how much she has done for him recently, he finds he wants nothing more than to find a way to cure that loneliness for her and truly make her happy, becoming fixated on the notion.

we could maybe even throw in a "sara's having troubles in san francisco and is no longer loving her job at the sfpd" subplot to up the ante here, if we wanted.

as the days wear on, grissom longs to have sara physically near to him always.

for the first time, living 500+ miles away from her really begins to smart.

maybe at some point when grissom is at his lowest during the course of the investigation, sara hops a flight and shows up in vegas during a rare two day-off period for her, without him even asking. her anticipation of his needs and the fact that she is just there for him (at a time when he is not feeling great about himself) means more to him than he could possibly say.

they end up sleeping together (which is something they may or may not have done previously, depending on one's pre-vegas headcanons for them) and eventually one or the other of them drops the l-word and the other one immediately and wholeheartedly says it back.

it all but breaks both of their hearts when at the end of 48 hours, sara has to fly back to the bay.

finally, after several weeks of investigation, the internal affairs team clears brass of any wrongdoing surrounding the shooting, as it becomes evident that warrick essentially "went rogue" and contradicted brass's direct orders for him to supervise holly gribbs.

brass is summarily reinstated as csi night shift supervisor, at which point grissom resumes his role as csi night shift assistant supervisor.

as sara predicted, ia does ultimately find warrick negligent in his conduct surrounding the shooting.

and who knows? maybe if they took their time and did their due diligence, they might also uncover the fact that judge cohen was blackmailing him.

and honestly? if we're going for total realism here, i think warrick would almost certainly lose his job.

however, given that we like warrick and don't want him off the team, let's say that rather than being fired he instead is served with a lengthy suspension, barred from his impending promotion to csi level iii, subjected to various disciplinary actions, and required to attend 90+ gamblers anonymous meetings and some number of peap counseling sessions prior to reinstatement, at which point he will still be on probation.

so all said and done, the team is still down two junior criminalists, though they are probably only allowed to hire for one position (given that warrick is technically still employed at the lab, albeit serving a protracted suspension).

while of course they want to hire a replacement for holly gribbs as quickly as possible, they are still a government agency and can't cut corners in the process, so they open up an actual hiring search.

grissom and sara discuss the possibility of her applying for the job.

however, since they by now both fully consider themselves to be "in a romantic relationship" (and have every intention to move in together should sara indeed transfer to vegas), they're uncertain what to do regarding the department policy forbidding romantic/sexual relationships between members of the same forensics team.

maybe at this point grissom talks to catherine and/or brass about the issue and they help him to come up with a workaround much like the one ecklie suggests to grissom in canon in episode 08x02 "a la cart," where to keep the whole spouse/partner hire thing kosher, they can set up some very specific rules to prevent grissom and sara from "unduly influencing" each other while working on the same forensics team.

maybe grissom ends up stepping down even from his assistant supervisory position, ceding it to catherine (as he has never really cared about having administrative power anyway).

maybe the new protocol is that grissom and sara are not allowed to work cases together unless there is another csi level iii overseeing them and running point on the investigation.

maybe they'll be subject to random case reviews by internal affairs.

maybe they both have to meet with hr and fill out lengthy disclosure forms at the start of every fiscal year.

in any case, let's say they find a way to make it work.

so sara applies and gets the job and moves to vegas with grissom. somewhere along the way, she would still have to tell him fully about her past—which would, of course, be a whole thing™ unto itself—and there might still be a few hiccups as they learned how to blend their lives together and communicate their feelings in the interim.

that said, i think if things happened this way, it would serve much the same effect as the events of episodes 05x12 "snakes" and 05x13 "nesting dolls" do in canon, just on an accelerated timescale and without grissom being sara's boss: namely, grissom would learn that sara loved him unconditionally, and he would also start to prioritize making her happy (and find that doing so made him happy in the process). he would make any and all necessary changes to have her be part of his life.

now.

how things might go with brass and catherine being in charge of the shift and grissom and sara having an "out" romantic relationship from the get-go as early as 2000, i can't say. certainly, the whole trajectory of the show would change, but it's unclear in what specific ways that it would or what the ultimate outcomes of these major changes to the team's composition might be.

as mentioned above, of course, there are potentially other scenarios than this one that we could imagine where grissom not being sara's boss might result in them getting together as a couple sooner; still, i think, for the most part, however said scenarios were constructed otherwise, they would almost universally have to involve similar emotional beats, where grissom learned to both trust in sara's love for him and choose his love for her over his fear of potential rejection.

i also think that it would, for the most part, be less the case that grissom not being sara's boss was the thing that cleared the way for their relationship in itself and rather that him not being her boss would alter the way certain events played out from how they do in canon, such that grissom and sara ended up on a different emotional learning curve than the one they have in canon altogether.

it wouldn't be a deal where grissom would go, "yay! i'm not your boss! let's date!" (because that obstacle was never the only one holding him back from being with her anyway). instead, the real change-maker would be how events transpired differently in the au based on the fact of this major detail being altered.

anyway.

those are my thoughts!

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

[al1x00]

HELP MY PHONEE DIDN'T GIVE ME THE NOTIFICATION SO WHEN I WENT TO CHECK YOUR BLOG I ALMOST JUMPED IN PLACE LMAO😭😭

⚠️CHAPTER 5 SPOILERS!!⚠️

Also I always read the tags before starting to read the chapter and I was relieved but also kinda concerned at the same time when I didn't read anything like "TW death" because like what? Not even a Katy moment™? NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING OF COURSE I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO DIE EXCEPT THE PEOPLE THAT GET IN BETWEEN R AND HOBIE

OF COURSE WHEN WE FINALLY DECIDE TO TALK TO HIM SOMETHING HAPPENS, also I'm pretty sure he didn't actually mean to respond in that tone, he was probably worried by something OR SOMEONE, because why the fuck was he preparing his guns for? HUH?🤨🤨

The little girl with her parents reminds me so much of Mayday, Peter B. and MJ but I'm not sure about it😭😭 anyway Clementine is such a sweet kid she just made me go "aww🥺🥺" all the time

NOO WHY ARE THEY ARGUING FJSOCJJSFLAAAA😭😭😭 I THOUGHT WE MADE SOME PROGRESS COME ONN

Also the song "Breaking the girl" by Red Hot Chili Peppers is literally OPIN Hobie and R😭😭

EXCUSE ME R'S AUNT DID WHAT? NAH THAT'S JUST CRUEL IT'S EVEN SOME SORT OF "PUNISHMENT" ANYMORE. R is really god's strongest soldier because I couldn't have endured what she went throught.

OH SO IT WAS R'S UNCLE WHO TRIED TO KILL HOBIE? THIS BITCH. Seriously though, can't he be happy if his niece has someone special? CAN'T THEY DO ONE FUCKING THING RIGHT?

AND NOT ONLY DID HE SLASH HIS THROAT, BUT HE EVEN TRIED TO BURY HIM ALIVE UNDER THE SAME FUCKING TREE THEY ALWAYS MET UNDER? THAT IS TWISTED AND SO FUCKING SICK

"You're my peace" SBSJKFKAKAAAAA KATY HOS DARE YOU MAKE ME VIOLENTLY SOB FOR THE THIRD TIME SINCE I STARTED READING THIS CHAPTER. THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH, EVEN AFTER ALL THEY'VE BEEN THROUGHT😭😭 JUST LET THEM HAVE WHAT THEY WANT FOR ONCE IN THEIR LIVES PLEASE

AND OF COURSE WHEN THEY FINALLY HAVE A GOOD MOMENT BETWEEN THEM SOMEONE HAS TO COME IN AND TRY TO KILL THEM BOTH. KATY WHEN I CATCH YOU KATY I SWEAR👹

AAAA THEY KISSED!!! AAA I'M SO HAPPY I'M BOUNCING ALL OVER THE PLACE

Atleast we didn't have to wait so long like for BDAS💀 poor R and Hobie were getting interrupted every goddamn time

Hobie while R kills a man with a kick from her horse like: "Ah yes, the love of my life🥰"

ALSO YES, KILL ALL THE FUCKERS WHO GET IN YOUR WAY

"He takes one last look at you, as if this is the last time he'd ever set eyes on you"

Katy? I'm keeping an eye on you. Y'know, just to make sure YOU DON'T END UP KILLING ONE OF THEM, OR WORSE, BOTH🥰

BUT OH LORD THIS WAS A HELL OF CHAPTER I LOVED ITT, can't wait to see what happens next but at the same time i'm really scared because it's really close to ending and what if something bad happens yknow?😭😭 Anyway thanks for the awesome chapter! Ly❤️

(Also I may finish one of the drawings next week! I finally finished my exams and I finally have free time again!!😽😽)

On these Metal Tracks I Lay Myself Bare

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, CW guns, TW violence, CW injury, Cowboy AU, wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6

The train station is packed with people, all finely dressed, waiting along the tracks, their luggages weighing heavy in their hands. The place smells of iron and steel, sweat soaked wood and rough leather. Your eyes wander around the station, domed ceilings loom above, carvings of horses and birds decorate the chestnut wood. Sunlight filters through the cracks, rays of light acting as a spotlight to the ornate building. It's a busier train station than the town you were in, the city you've stopped in is huge in comparison to the little towns you've passed by. The station is full of ticketing booths, lines stretching a few feet away that are full of impatient passengers. You look across the train tracks, seeing parents chastising their children, hearing hurried murmurs from husbands, holding their wives’ hands even though the luggage in their hand slows them down. You look at Hobie's gloved hand that's resting upon the ticket booth, you stare at it longingly, eyes getting glossy by the minute.

He's taking you home, and just like back home, you have no say in it.

A train whistle echoes, a signal of its metallic arrival. Its steel body creaks as it stops, its copper inlay is slowly turning green, and there's rust around the wheels. Soon, the station fills with smoke, dark tar belching smoke that sticks to your lungs as you cough. You feel a warm hand on your back, in a second you look back, the warmth is gone.

“You alright?” Hobie asks, lighting up a cigarette in-between his lips.

“It's the smoke,” you say, scratching at your throat that he cannot keep looking at for the scar in his neck throbs at the memory from the mundane act.

“Alright,” without a second thought, he takes his freshly lit cigarette from his mouth and then flicks it away from you, embers fly off in the distance just before it lands on the dirt outside.

You feel like the golden light in the summer. “I was talking about the coal smoke from the train. But that works too, thank you.”

He scoffs, a small smile ghosting over his lips. “Right, didn't do it for you, I did it for myself. Heard it kills people y'know.” Nudging you, he doesn't expect for you to shuffle away. Blinking, he avoids your eyes, “that's our train, it's an overnight one so we can rest in our cabin.” He tugs you in by the sleeve of your coat that's tucked in between his middle and forefinger, guiding you towards the waiting doors.

“That's good.” You follow, eyes trained on his back lest you get lost.

As much as you don't want to go home, you still don't want to leave him despite your mind telling you to forget about him and just leave on Cherry and wander around the west like a tumbleweed caught in the wind. You'd probably last a week.

Hobie stops by the doors, waiting in line with the other passengers. You flick your eyes downwards, his fingers wrapped around your sleeve, not taut, just holding you close to him as the crowd grows. So close to your own hands, yet so far from your heart.

“Tickets?” The man clad in a blue uniform asks, Hobie shows the pink papers and the man nods.

You enter the train car, it's a cute little thing filled with blue velvet curtains with golden tassels, and carpeted floors that run towards the end of the car. On your left are filled with little cabins, with clear windows that you can see through inside. It's big enough for at least four people, five if possible, though it would be a tight fit. The hallway is already small enough that only two people could walk side by side, you'd like to walk side by side with him, unlike now that you walk behind him, behind his shadow that gathers around you like dandelions in the spring.

“This is us,” he stops at cabin number three, opening the door with a creak, he leans away to let you enter first. Closing the door behind him, he pulls down all the curtains so that wandering eyes can't watch your every move. It's bad enough that there's a bounty on both of your heads, you don't want gossiping passengers peering inside.

There are four collapsible beds on each wall, all held by golden ropes, bed sheets in rich red cloth, pillows fluffed to perfection and blankets neatly folded. Hobie scooches in between you and the beds to close the top bunks so that there's more space for his tall frame. He has taken his hat off not for politeness but if he wore it inside it'll be squished by the low ceiling. Then there's the large window that sits across the door, before you could take note of the people outside, Hobie shuts the curtains close.

“What do you think?” He asks, taking his jacket off with a flourish. “It's not even close to the ones back home but it'll do for now. We'll be train hopping to get our scents off the lawmen.”

“It's nice— wait, train hopping?” You sit down on one of the beds, the mattress is surprisingly soft under you. “Please don't tell me we'll be jumping from train roof to train roof.”

Hobie chuckles, copying your actions, sitting across from you. Back resting against the wall, comfortably slouching. “Think you can handle it?”

“God, no.” You can't help but rest your tired head upon the goose feather pillow.

“Good, because we're not doin' that, love.” Again, he copies you. Arms tucked under his head, eyes above the ornate ceiling. “We’re not gettin' off at the last station, so we'll be ridin’ with Buck and Cherry for a bit and then to another train station. Confuse the wankers with our brilliant wiles.”

You lift your head off the pillow, and in turn, Hobie turns his head to look at you. “Wait, what about the horses?”

“They'll follow the train.” He smiles.

“Follow? Like they have our scents?” Hobie laughs, not teasingly, no, it's full of endearment, chuckling softly, but it flies over your head.

“Don't laugh. It's a genuine question.” You roll your eyes with slight amusement.

“They're in the back carriage,” he tamps down his laugh but his smile stays.

After that silence prevails in your cabin as the train slowly chugs on, sharp whistles piercing your eardrums, and the hum of machinery bringing you back home. You want to speak to him, to finally tell him of all your concerns about going home, going back to them. But most of all, you want him to speak to you about everything, to tell you how he was faring for the last five years, and how he became such a terrifying figure to outlaws. You want him to just…talk, and make up for lost time. You gather the courage, but just as you were about to speak, he no longer lies across from you. Hobie is sitting on the bed, body facing the door, hands busy with oiling his guns.

“Hobie…I—”

“What is it?” He flicks his eyes briefly to you, his tone was sharp, but he didn't mean it, blaming it for his own worries and fatigue. He'd say something about it but you're already facing away from him. Back turned, blanket shielding you from him.

“Nevermind,” you mumble into the covers, falling into a deep slumber where the conversation happened in your dreams.

This goes on for three days, hopping from train to train, from busy cities to dead empty towns. You barely speak, talking only when Hobie asks you something. It's like you're back at that empty mansion, with only the plants to talk to.

Hobie silently hates it, he doesn't know what to make out any of it. You seem hungry so he gives you a can of strawberries, you look tired so he lets you sleep without him saying a word. When goosebumps appear on your arms he gives you a blanket, when you're nervous, lips bitten until it's bleeding, he leaves you alone to calm yourself down. None of it works, he misses your chatter that has kept him sane the entire journey. The silence gives him time to think though, a situation that he despises since nothing good has come out of all the thinking.

—

The rest of the journey goes without a hitch, except for that one bit where Bucky was stolen by an outlaw while you and Hobie were buying train tickets. You panic while he sits and waits. People look at you like you were a mad woman pacing back and forth, hand petting Cherry, voice whispering your thoughts to the poor hitched horse. And Hobie just…stares. After what seemed like forever, or fifteen minutes, Bucky returns, riderless, still has his saddle on his back, and seemingly chipper. Turns out, Hobie trained Buckeye to throw off would-be thieves, and this time, Bucky found a convenient ledge to throw this particular man off. You and Hobie quickly ushered both horses into the back just in case a sheriff comes looking for a murderous horse.

You've been seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd of travelers, the same children that's tugging at their father's coat, the same old couple that helps each other up on the platforms. Some have taken notice of you too, to which you smile politely at them while they wave kindly at you.

—

It's another warm humid day, another train to ride in. You don't bother to look at the interior this time, only deciding to sit on the cushy seat you were assigned to, sliding inside the booth, eyes already staring longingly at the outside world. Hobie once again tries to speak about something— anything to try to get you to finally speak your mind, but his rapid pulse tells him otherwise. So he clamps his mouth shut, deciding to sit across from you instead of sitting next to you like he wanted to.

He feels eyes on his form as he picks mud off his spurs, raising his head, he comes face to face with a freckled child staring at him curiously with her big blue eyes. Her tiny hands are curled around a teddy bear, her fiery red hair is tied into a neat ponytail. You notice her a second later, smiling softly at the child.

“Hello,” you greet kindly, and the girl scampers back to her family's seat, hiding her blushing face behind her mother's skirt.

“Sorry about that.” Her mother apologizes, round pregnant belly prominent as she tries to coax her daughter out. “This is Clementine, she's a bit shy.”

“That's alright,” you speak on behalf of Hobie. “Hi, Clementine, my name's Y/N, and this is my companion, Hobie.” The second your eyes meet his own, Hobie's breath gets stuck in his throat.

“Say hello, Clem, be polite.” The girl's father playfully pokes her side. Blue eyes hidden behind rounded glasses.

“Hi,” she says in a small voice, giggling when she looks back at Hobie.

“I think she has a crush on your husband.” Clementine's mother chuckles, patting her daughter's back for a job well done.

“My husband?” Panic sets in your chest until you see her gesturing towards Hobie. “Oh,” you chuckle shakily, fists bunched around your trousers.

Hobie notices, he doesn't say anything about it. He takes your reaction as something else, so to keep your embarrassment at bay, he tells the couple otherwise. “Not her husband. Just escortin’ her.”

The air becomes awkward. “Oh,” the mother rubs her belly, smiling gently. “Sorry, you two just look like a good pair.”

Her husband taps her shoe with his. “Just like us, eh, sweetheart?” The wife shakes her head with a bashful smile, bringing a grin to the man's lips. You start to think that this is what marriage is supposed to be. Caring, loving, clinging onto each other in the best way that doesn't stifle or choke, just love in its most natural form. It's unlike any marriages you've seen and experienced back home. “So where are you folks off to? I'm guessing south? We've been seeing you two around since Valentine, it's nice to have some company during the journey don't you think?”

Hobie doesn't sense malicious intent from the parents. “Sure, whatever you say, mate.”

“You're not from around here aren't you?” The little girl listens to the conversation, head moving from side to side whenever someone speaks. “That's alright,” she laughs softly, rummaging for something in her bag. Hobie has his thumb pressed along the side of his gun. “I can tell you'll be good neighbors,” she hands you a small jar of honey, it's bright yellow and clear, you wish you had some tea to go with it. Hobie breathes a sigh of relief. “Here you go!”

“Oh no thank you, we can't possibly take it.”

“Please do.” The husband says, “we used to have a colony of bees, but we had to sell them all before we moved.”

“We have dozens of unsold honey, we're honestly just looking to get rid of it before we get to our destination. They're heavy, y'know.” His wife finishes for him. “Clem, can you give it to sweet Y/N for me?”

“That's so kind of you.” You smile, nodding. “You're moving to the south?”

“Okay.” She happily takes it, walking across the aisle to you and Hobie. Unsurprisingly, she gives it to Hobie instead of you. “Here you go.” She copies her mother.

Hobie takes the jar with trepidation. “Thank you?”

You quiet down a laugh while Clementine’s parents guffaw across you.

“Oh she's in love.” The mother says, arms raised to embrace her daughter who welcomes her touch. You can't help but feel a pang in your heart at her love for her child. “And yes we're going to be living there with my in-laws. Rent has gone too high in the west, y'know.” You nod along, making friendly conversation.

“Wish I had tea,” you hear Hobie mumble. You smile softly at his words.

—

It's been a couple of more trains, and more smoke in your lungs, you start to feel like your hands are starting to smell like the steel that you now know as your temporary home. The scenery outside your window has changed. From grassy dusty plains of tumbleweeds and windmills to rolling mountains that rise up high with large looming trees that shield you from the sun. Soon your view will be full of the southern charm, but you don't look forward to it, being there means that you're closer to getting back to the place you dread.

You've grown quite close to Clementine and her little family, even the other familiar passengers that are heading the same way as you are quite fond of you as well. You eat breakfast with them, have afternoon tea, and have even introduced Cherry and Bucky to the children. They've lovingly named them both ‘horsies,’ to which you'd always giggle at.

Clementine has latched onto you, you teach her about plants and flowers, and have her draw them for you just like you've sweetly described it to her. But when Hobie's near, she opts to be his shadow for the time being, following him everywhere until her mother calls her back. Hobie is half annoyed that he can't find the time to speak to you, but he's glad that there's someone as a mediator between the two of you or he'll start vomiting out words that may or may not make the situation worse.

Your back aches at the lumpy mattress that you've unfortunately landed into. You can't help but give up the assigned cabin for you and Hobie to Clementine and her family since the beds are much more comfortable in that cabin. So you offered to exchange it, citing that the mother, Florence, you've come to know, needs it more because of the growing baby in her. She gratefully gave you another jar of honey for your sacrifice.

Hobie enters the booth, heavy boots thumping against darkened wood, spurs clicking, footsteps rolling along like a thick heavy fog of loneliness.

“Where were you?” He asks even though he's afraid that he'd be overbearing. His worries win over him.

You grip the spine of the borrowed book, knuckles tightening, eyes drawn downwards to the written word that spells out ‘grief.’ “I visited Cherry, I don't want her to be lonely.” You barely look at him.

Hobie flexes his hands not out of anger, no, out of fear of losing you, this time, just like the last time he did, he doesn't know why or how he could even lose you. He sits down across from you, bed creaking from his weight. He tries to play as the nonchalant cowboy like he always had for the past five years.

“Clementine was lookin' for you.” *I was looking for you. “Cherry won't be lonely, she has Bucky with her.”

“Bucky hasn't been much help when all he does is look at her. Not much of a conversationalist.” You flick your eyes over to him, flashes of anger and hopelessness are melted into your irises.

“Maybe Bucky just doesn't have the words.”

“And maybe Cherry just wants to talk to him.”

“That fuckin’ horse,” he laughs, you don't find the humour in his words. But he clearly does. Your anger flies over his head. “that horse is already worth half of your bounty.” His words are a sharp sting in your arteries. “If she actually speaks she'll be worth it.”

“And what if she doesn't? That she's not worth your damned money?” You toss the book aside. Anger seeping out of your pores. “You'll sell her after you bring me in to my aunt?” Your voice breaks, and you hate yourself for it. “Am I just that to you? A bounty?” The dam breaks, and everything you've kept to yourself bursts open.

“That's not—” The heart that he has sewn together breaks at the seams.

You abruptly stand up, tears pricking your eyes. Inhaling, you stare down the man you love. The only man you've ever loved. “You are not what I hoped to find when I escaped on that ship.”

Before he could say something, anything, you disappeared into another train car, and amidst the metallic halls.

—

Another grueling day, another steel cage to get into. The train whistles as it comes to a stop, you've grown acclimated to the smell of burning coal, you let it coat your lungs as you enter the train with Hobie silently trailing after you.

Your eyes are glossed over, red and swollen from the sobs you've let out over the course of the last sixteen hours. Hobie hasn't talked to you since then, always looking at your back, face unreadable. You pass by familiar faces, you don't acknowledge them. You're tired, bones aching, muscles twitching from lack of sleep and water. Head thrumming, you enter your designated cabin like a doe who has lost its way.

There's a sinkhole underneath your feet, slowly it eats at you, up to your shins and up your thighs, coating your flesh in mud and dirt. You don't tug at him anymore, the small ember of hope in your chest has diminished, instead, you let the ground swallow you whole— letting it suffocate you, letting it drown your lungs in soil.

Just like he did on the first train ride, there's four beds on each wall, but instead of an empty space in the middle, there's a little foldable table. You close the top bunks and lay down on one of the bottom ones, head heavy against the soft pillow. You feel his presence behind you, and then a cool steel atop your bicep. You flinch away, thinking it was a barrel of a gun.

“I figured you're thirsty.” He says, hand hovering above your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. The train whistle rings out, and the engine whirrs and starts up as more smoke bellows outside your window.

You take the flask, sitting up to take a drink. He sits across from you, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

Hobie sees the glow of your ring, he instinctively brings his hand up to his own that has made its home around his neck; hidden behind his clothes, finding comfort in its gilded form, the closest thing he can get to you.

“Why do you still hold on to me? After all these years?” He asks, eyes swirling with unknown emotion.

“Why did you let me go?” You answer, and that was the end of the conversation. Then it hits you, he truly doesn't love you anymore.

—

Night comes, and with it your sadness comes flooding through you, getting in the corners, slithering around every crevice— it has memorized your form and made it its home.

Weirdly enough, Hobie hasn't left the cabin, his lingering presence doesn't stifle you, unlike the man back at home who watches you with piercing glares. Even with your fury, your mind still finds comfort in Hobie.

He hears your almost silent cry, he wants to hold on to you, to brush his palms on your cheeks, to wipe away the tears and press his lips against your own. But he can't, or you'll think that he didn't mean it, that he only did it to make you calm down. It would be a cheap satisfaction for the both of you.

“I didn't let you go, I had to go.” He suddenly says above the quiet cutting of an apple in his hand, leaving pieces of it on your side just in case you want it. His voice doesn't waver, perhaps he has been saying the exact words to you in his mind for the past five years. You still have your back turned facing him as the deep rumble of the train goes on. “I was young and stupid. I was forced—”

You suddenly turn towards him, sitting up on the lumpy mattress. “And I was young and stupid too, yet I knew in my heart that running away with you wasn't foolish. Was it stupid to you? Escaping with me? That you'd rather run away, alone, to another country than be with me?” The memory of a young you waiting for him with your luggage in your grip has you seething.

Hobie matches your anger, hunting knife pausing on the red apple. “Did you hear what I said?” He angrily skins the fruit, slicing and dicing at its flesh. “You have no idea what I've done to survive. I have endured a lot to be where I am now—”

“And what of what I endured?!” You stand up, taking your bag, rummaging through it. “I'm truly sorry for whatever happened to you— but how could I apologize for something that I don't even know?” You toss the letters on the desk after struggling to take it out of the bag. “There! The letters that were sent back to me because I had no idea where you would be! Read them, and you'll know of the things I've endured. Unlike you who would rather look at me with contempt than tell me why I deserve that horrid gaze.” You gasp for air, he lets you speak, his own anger dissipating, fear once again encompasses him. “I thought you were dead, everyone kept telling me you were, but I didn't believe them. It's been years, my hands are raw from— I mourned you.” You pause, watching your golden ring glow in the lampshade. “Do you know how much that hurt? To start to believe their words? To lose hope? I didn't know where you were but you knew where I was and yet, not a single fucking letter went my way.”

Hobie stares at the letters spilled all over the table, apple juice seeping into the yellowed paper. He takes one, the oldest looking one that has its edges burned. Breaking the wax seal, he reads as he listens to your words coated in venom and grief.

“One letter, Hobie, and I would've understood. Then I wouldn't have come after you if you just told me you didn't want to be with me anymore.” You nod, “and now you're bringing me home, to the same people who would rather keep me locked up and tell me lies. I don't know how your letter got in my possession, but now I know that you didn't mean anything you wrote in it.” For five years you've asked yourself, ‘was it me?’ ‘Was I the reason you left?’ you never got the answer to your question, so now you ask him finally. “Was it me?”

Hobie raises his head to look upon your sorrow, his hand shakes at the act they've done to you the second he escaped. He had thought they'd leave you alone, that they'd finally let you go once he was gone and forgotten; but he never thought it would get worse, the hurtful words and slaps on the wrists were nothing compared to what they've done after that night he was almost buried alive— the night you tried to escape with him. His mind draws the scene, blood coating your knees, your pained cry as your aunt jabs your hands with the tip of a fountain pen. And then her words of hollow apologies as she heals your wounds so that it wouldn't scar. You're filled with them, invisible to the eye, but not to you, the only person who has felt every single torturous wound.

‘It's terrible,’ you wrote, ‘not ever seeing you again.’ And he agonizingly read it. No, it wasn't you, it was them, them who would rather commit murder just to mimic what he had. Hobie can't form coherent words at what he just read, anger and sadness piercing his veins like a poisoned arrow of guilt.

You sniff, wiping the tears in your eyes as he just stares back at you. His hands shakes, paper crumpling under his tight grip, he needs to bring you home. But not there, not at the gilded cage he left you in.

The cruelty of memory has plagued you, you try to remember, you reminisce, but did it actually happen? Did all his love for you even happen?

“You don't have to keep reading,” you say solemnly, “it doesn't matter now, we're nearly there.” With a slide of the door, you leave.

—

After the twelfth tear stained letter, with his own tears flowing down and leaving moistened webs on the paper, he has had enough. His eyes always seem to see the same words now, ‘was it me?’ ‘Are you alive?’ and ‘When will you come back?’ Hobie hasn't even made a dent on the letters, barely reading half of the pile of longing you've left. Hobie's mind swirls into different emotions, going through every scenario where he didn't run away, where he came back for you while clutching his still bleeding throat and body covered in moist soil.

He was foolish to try and push you away, to hold you at arm's length, to only look at you like he has let the poisonous words thrown at him by the very same man that gave him the scar curl around him like blackened smoke that stains his clothes. He thought that wanting you back would bring nothing but hurt, especially that he thought that he didn't deserve it. To want is his demise, to have you again in his arms is his folly, but what a wonderful folly it would be.

How could he do all of that to you when his scarred flesh is in the shape of your name.

He pockets the letters, tucking it inside his waist coat, right above his heart just to feel your words through them. The door opens with a click, and he walks towards your direction like a compass built inside him that always points towards you. His fingers glide along the scar on his neck, raised skin felt through his gloves as he walks from carriage to carriage. Where there's open air in between, cool breeze stinging his moistened cheeks. Then he stops at the edge of a crowd, a jaunty tune plays from a traveling musician, playing for a scrap of coins in the corner. People gather around the brightly lit bar, alive and happy, and there you are standing as if you're frozen in time. As if he's seeing you just how he left you.

Amidst the familiar faces within the crowd that gathers in the small bar to converse, he stares at you, and by some miracle, you stare back at him, meeting his jade eyes that are surrounded by a sickened red. There's a soft, ghost of a smile on your lips, even after what you've told him— eyes full of love for the same man who has your heart in the palm of his hands; gentle, caring and yet unknowingly the only person that could truly hurt you the most without the painful slap of a wooden board against your back. It brings him back in time, under the cloudy gas light and the whir of the metal machines whose maw opens and closes to reveal heated metal— His mouth opens and he says the exact same thing that he has been saying every single time his eyes meet yours in secret— ‘meet you back at home.’ He utters, a promise kept under the smell of unlit gunpowder and cheap champagne that your aunt always buys to placate the workers. And you say the same words back without a bated breath— ‘wait for me.’ You almost cry out into the crowd, you'd scream it if it weren't for the forbidden relationship. It has been like that through every cheap congratulatory milestone the factory and your aunt has thrown. You don't speak to him, but your longing eyes do. He doesn't come near you, but his hand would always gravitate towards your velvet clad hand. ‘No one else knows.’ ‘No one else knows,’ those words echo in your mind like a root taking its place. Yet, someone saw, it only takes one good pair of eyes to see the growing love between you— ‘no one knows,’ he mirrors, but one does. It only takes one to set off a domino effect, an effect that would lead to his attempted murder, and to your demise that he isn't fully privy to. ‘No one knows,’ ‘no one knows,’ you whisper to yourself as you pack your bags to escape the life you haven't got a say in. No one knows, and yet, one did, and that one got your love's neck slashed and buried alive in the same soil you once kissed above on, under the same tree that you were supposed to meet in.

He wondered why you didn't show up, but the one that knew did. No one knows, and the one that did lived in your house, ate your food, shared a bed with your aunt— a story told through a letter from a man he once worked with, a man who now has one eye, a man that helped dig him out of the shallow grave they've put him in, waiting to bleed out in the earthbound soil. A dangerous letter that he had burned in the fire from anger. He wanted revenge, but you would be the cost. So he survived and killed, and survived again, always seeing you in the corner of his eye, always hearing your almost forgotten voice when he's on the edge of sleep. He survived and now he's here, meeting with your eyes amidst the crowd once again— with the evidence of his survival curling around him like a heavy rope, and your own hovering above you like a grey cloud that threatens to spill, yet he still utters the same words above the murmuring happier crowd, “meet you back at home.” His throat closes in around the words, almost screaming it to the crowd.

A tear slips from your eyes that are full of woe, and you say the words back, quieter, unsure, yet, the love is still there— “wait for me.”

Hobie breathes for the first time, his feet carrying him around the crowd, weaving through bodies to get to you while you stand still, waiting for him, watching as he desperately trudges to get to you.

You look just like how he remembered, standing by the oak tree, waiting for him even if his hands are stained black from grease— you'd still hold his hand. Now his hands are soiled in crimson that drips onto the floorboards, and yet you still hold your hand out towards him. He would atone for his sins if that's what you'd ask of him, but no one would grant him his penance, he has accepted that fact long ago. Only your touch could mimic it.

Hobie finally makes it to you, now he stands in front of your form, now he notices your hand grasping his own. Featherlight, unsure, if he'd reciprocate, giving him enough time to shake you off. But he doesn't, instead, he holds on to you tighter as he leads you outside of the noisy carriage and away from prying eyes, what he should've done all those years ago.

Hobie tugs you out of the hole that has consumed you.

Silently, you follow him, squeezing his hand twice to let him know that you're right behind him without him looking over his shoulder to inspect. You feel his fingers run along the ring on your finger.

The sound of the metal wheels are loud in your ears, steam rolling off in waves as it warms your back. It's dark out, the moon above guiding his path while he opens the other door leading towards the last carriage that carries horses and baggage.

The moon has always been a comfort to you. You thought in those years without him that he'd be staring at the same moon as you, that at least you've still got a connection with him. Even if you weren't sure he'd be alive to look up at the sky. Arms suddenly envelopes you, hands cradling the back of your head to keep you close to him, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

You're the first one to speak while you tentatively raise your arms to embrace him back. He's warm, warmer than you remember. “Do you mean it?”

Hobie sniffs, diamonds rolling off his cheeks, a promise falling from his lips, “yes, I'll bring you home, my home.” He molds himself to the shape of you once again. An act that you've been trying to attain since the beginning of the journey, now you're both perfectly aligned with each other, heartbeats synching and full. “I'll tell you everything, everything you need to know.”

“Just the ones you're willing to tell, Hobie. I'm so sorry for yelling those words at you.” You hold his head in your hands, gentle, caring, cradling him like you're holding the moon. Guiding it upwards so you could stare at his viridescent eyes that's full of hope for the first time in years. But the gnawing in your mind draws too close to you. “They'll never stop, they will keep hunting us down.” A sob breaks through your throat, “You have to bring me to them.” Tears flow out of you, “or we'll never be at peace. You'll never be at peace.”

The horses neigh behind you, Cherry huffs while Buckeye just stares at the scene. The carriage rattles for a moment before Hobie leans, laying his forehead atop yours, squeezing the soft skin on your nape. He closes his eyes, inhaling you in, you almost crumble in his arms. You've dreamt of this day, dreamt of holding him like this once again.

“You're my peace.” he whispers, “They can try to ruin that peace, but I'll stop them. I'll kill them if I had to.”

“Okay,” you close your eyes, just as he opens his own. “Take me home.”

“‘m sorry,” he kisses your forehead, lips lingering, a heavy kiss that brings you back to life, mending all your doubts. “Let's go home, yeah?” Leaning away, his eyes dart over to a man coming your way, he doesn't find it suspicious, but then the stranger brandishes a gun, raising it over your head. “Y/N—!”

Your body flings off to the side, hip hitting harshly on the corner of a crate. Then a loud cackle of a gun goes off, the sound bouncing off the walls, gunpowder flying over head, hiding Hobie from your vision. You yell his name, but you can't hear your own voice from the ringing in your ears.

Everything happens slowly in your eyes. Smoke spreads as you see Hobie still standing and unscathed, gun raised, barrel aimed at the man's head. Said man runs towards him like a bull, making Hobie miss his shots. Yet the man still shoots at him, slower than Hobie but just as deadly. Hobie leans his head slightly to the side, effectively dodging a bullet. You scamper towards Cherry, lifting yourself up, waiting for the right moment. And then you slap your precious horse, making her kick before he could reach Hobie. Cherry's deadly kick hits the perpetrator right on his back, where a sickening crunch can be heard. The sheer force of the kick has dust flying off his body, and now he lays motionless on the wooden floor.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie gawps at you, smile spreading across his lips. “You alright?” He walks over to you, or tries to while Cherry gives one last kick towards the dead man.

“Yeah,” you nod, patting Cherry, Keeping her calm. “It's okay, girl. I'm so sorry.” You coo at her, Hobie goes around the horse to hold you. “Are you—?”

His arms wrap around your waist, lips smashing on yours. You inhale and it's already over. Even if it was quick, it wasn't a cheap satisfaction, it's everything. He pats your cheek affectionately, beaming at you, holding you close. “You're brilliant.” His thumb rubs softly where you hit your hip on the crate, a silent apology.

You smile, heart thumping loudly like an engine. “It was all Cherry.”

“Should I snog the horse now too?” Hobie says smugly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“No, preferably just me, for now at least.” You tap his chest, bashfulness encompassing you.

“Nah, it's you until the end, love.” He clicks his forehead against yours, making you chuckle.

A scream rings out from the other carriage, hurried footsteps bounding away. “Do you think—?”

Hobie reloads his gun effortlessly, giving the spare one to you. “You're a better shot than me anyway.” He takes one last look at you, as if this is the last time he'd ever set his eyes on you. “Whoever they are, I'll cut through them. Cover my back?”

“Always,” You nod, taking the silver six-shooter, “then we'll go home after this.”

He grins, hope in his eyes. “Home, you'll love it there.”

“Let's cut through all of them then.”

[aliatori]

Transmasc Kaidan fic!!!!

Yes! The release of Legendary Edition, and specifically how they didn't retcon in M!Shenko from the first game, got me outlining a story that’s essentially reimagining a selection of canon events in Kaidan’s history through a transmasc lens.

First off, all the stuff in his backstory about Jump Zero hits so much harder when you imagine it’s a teenage, pre-transition Kaidan going through all this trauma instead. Not only is there the very justifiable anger at all the abuse he and the other kids experience in the name of being trained in biotics, but then there’s the double layer of deep, persistent psychological discomfort. Add to that the crippling physical pain (and permanent disability) of the implant and learning its usage, and feeling like a stranger in his own body for a myriad of other gender related reasons, it’s no small wonder he snapped, lost control, and killed his instructor Vyrnnus.

And then, if you look at his relationship with Raina with a pre-transition Kaidan in mind, it (at least imo) resonates a lot more with the complicated queer, trauma bonded, ‘are we, aren’t we in love?’ vibes I get from their relationship than if he were cis. It also makes her rejection of Kaidan after he kills Vyrnnus cut all the deeper, confirming what he already suspected: he wouldn’t have been good enough for her before, and he certainly isn’t now.

Canonically, teenage Kaidan and his dad have a heart-to-heart after the incident where his dad offers reassurance and support to Kaidan, and it’s here I choose to believe he came out and started the process of transitioning.

For the F!Shenko path, there’s a line in their first love scene in ME1 where Kaidan confesses she makes him feel human, and whoo boy, if that doesn’t ring all of my personal transgender euphoria and intimacy bells. For someone who has had to work so hard to take ownership of his physical body, both in regard to biotics and to gender identity, for someone who has been othered and made to feel less than on those same levels, that line admits so much trust in Shepard.

Oh my god, and Horizon through a transmasc Kaidan perspective? It’s a gold mine. Not only do you have all the delicious canon flavoured angst of realizing Shepard is alive at Horizon, some of the lines in the letter he sends a romanced Shepard hurt even more. The survivor’s guilt he mentions probably brought up a lot of old trauma from his teenage experience with Raina, of being rejected and abandoned for doing what he thought was right. And “I guess I really don’t know who either of us is anymore”? *siren noises* With the caveat that there are a myriad of experiences under the transgender umbrella, I feel it’s safe to say all of us grapple intensely with our identity and who we are, even if the manifestations of that conflict look different. For Kaidan to be thrust back into that uncertainty, to question a truth he’s been told is immutable, unchangeable? That’s the good stuff right there.

(In a worldbuilding sense, I posit that Kaidan probably thinks a lot about the implications of the technology Cerberus used to rebuild Shepard and how it could be applied to both trans and/or disabled people—along with having mixed moral leanings about using such technology even for good—but I digress.)

Which finally brings me around to the M!Shenko thing. Kaidan being transmasc gives me a reason to turn BioWare’s cowardice into a valid relationship development arc. This may be @ing myself on main, but imagining a transmasc Kaidan trying to navigate his new command position under a larger-than-life Shepard, all the Reaper and galactic peril business, and a desire for another man he’s not sure will be reciprocated or well received on either the queer or trans fronts? There’s delightful substance for exploration there. Granted, Kaidan is 32 by the time Mass Effect 1 rolls around, so I don’t think he’s struggling with his identity so much that he’s not sure taking that much of a risk will work out in his favor re: pursuing a romance with M!Shepard.

Anyway, there is my essay of headcanons that are the foundation for the transmasc Kaidan fic that you probably didn’t ask for but got anyway. I haven’t decided which canonical romance path to pursue for the series of snapshots, and knowing me this might end up T4T in the end too because why not, but there you have it.

In short: Kaidan Alenko is transmasc and, while I will gladly allow for other interpretations, this is the one I’m sticking with now.

[momo-t-daye]

“Uh, Professor, er, sir,” Harry stumbled over the seldom-used honorifics in his bafflement. “Uh, on your mouth…?”

“Lipstick, Potter,” Snape sneered, the expression all the more pronounced with the cosmetic assistance.

“Oh, uh, it’s, um, it’s black?” Harry hadn’t known lipstick came in anything other than his aunt’s subdued pinks or the vivid shades of red that Petunia considered sinful and salacious (and intolerably reminiscent of Lily to ever be permitted back into the precariously normal life of Number Four, Privet Drive).

“Very good, Potter,” Snape said sarcastically. “Twelve years old and you’ve learned your colors.”

That was pure nastiness and entirely unfair.

“I’m fifteen!”  Harry protested, which earned him a merely sardonic eyebrow. “Almost fifteen,” he amended.  “I’ll be fifteen on Monday.”

Harry longed to surpass Snape in sheer churlishness and considered pointing out that muggle men generally didn’t wear skirts.  Certainly not in Little Whinging.  Definitely not when Dudley and his gang were roaming the streets.

He’d seen plenty of oblivious wizards sporting spiffy new dresses as their muggle disguises at the Quidditch World Cup the previous summer (a lifetime ago, before Cedric was murdered and he hadn’t been able to stop it from happening).  But there was something peculiarly well-tailored and suspiciously well-worn about the Potions Master’s garb that suggested less “disguise” and more “daily wear”. He found that his brain was oddly unwilling to acknowledge the existence of Snape’s psychedelic cardigan. His mind kept trying desperately to wallpaper something sensible over the bizarre image his eyes insisted on perceiving.

“…nice skirt,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” Snape drawled the false gratitude out with a smirk. “It has pockets.  Dipshit and Dumbass there were too excited to get on the road this morning and didn’t give me any time to do laundry.”

“Am I ‘Dipshit’ or am I ‘Dumbass’?” Sirius whispered loudly, grin gone well past manic.

“I believe Severus called me a ‘dipshit’ among other things for forgetting to take my Wolfsbane last year,” Remus replied thoughtfully, “So, Sirius, that probably makes you the dumbass.”

“I’m more of a hot piece of ass, but okay,” Sirius said with a wink. “Hi, Harry!”

“Hi, Sirius,” Harry said weakly, glad for the excuse to sidle past Snape.  “Uh, what are you doing here?” The Daily Prophet hadn’t said anything about Sirius being pardoned and news like that, while less of an urgent headline than Voldemort’s return, wouldn’t lurk about in the society pages or behind an advice column.

“Dumbledore told me to lie low at Lupin’s place,” Sirius beamed with an innocence so intense it could only be artificial.

“And, er, well, what with one thing and another, it really hadn’t seemed like a good time really to mention that I’d been, ah, evicted,” Lupin added, “…again.”

“Renting really seems like such a bother,” Sirius opined. “So I bought a house for Remus here.”

“Oh,” said Harry, who had witnessed Aunt Petunia compulsively twitching the curtains as she tried to discover how Mrs. Number Seven had eluded neighborly surveillance and, somehow, managed to sell her house to a person or persons unknown to the remaining residents of Privet Drive. “Isn’t that supposed to take a long time?”

“Building a home takes a lifetime,” Sirius said sagely. “Buying a house just takes money.”

Snape’s scornful snort brought Harry’s attention back to the least welcome visitor to Little Whinging.

“So, uh, why did you bring,” Harry gestured vaguely, unsure if the word ‘him’ could accurately encompass the snidest professor present, “Snape?” He’d rather noticed that Snape hadn’t lifted a finger to help Sirius and Lupin move any of the large boxes from the lorry into Number Seven.

“Severus knows how to drive,” Lupin explained gently. Sirius’ mouth opened, prepared to protest.

“Severus,” Lupin repeated, louder this time, “Has a valid muggle license to drive.” Sirius’ subsided.

“And I know how to hot-wire cars and lorries,” Severus added smoothly. “And,” Lupin echoed wearily, “ Severus knows how to ‘hot-wire’ muggle vehicles.”

“I’m learning to do that,” Sirius said helpfully, “I’m going to figure it out too.  I’ve nearly got it.”

“Talk is cheap, Black,” Snape scoffed starting to stroll in the last direction Harry wanted him to go, “I’ll believe you when I see some tangible results.”

“Wait!  Stop!” Harry wondered if he’d get in trouble for tackling a professor outside of Hogwarts.  It would be worth it, to try to alter Snape’s trajectory towards the front door of Number Four.  “Stop, stop, stop!”

For all Harry’s desperate scrambling, Snape maintained his lead.

“Please stop!” Harry begged as the professor hitched up his skirt slightly, “Use the bell!  You don’t have to kick the door in!” Aunt Petunia was probably at the door, surely she’d spied them across the street at Number Seven.

Snape kicked the door, already unlatched in Petunia’s nosy anticipation, open.

Aunt Petunia let out a shrill little scream.

“Hello, Piss-Tuna,” said Severus Snape, far more gleeful than he’d been even when Harry and Ron were facing the threat of expulsion after flying a car into the Whomping Willow. “You look as awful as ever.”

Piss-Tuna, Harry thought as his world tilted on its axis, Snape, Professor Snape, just called my aunt Piss-Tuna.  This can’t be happening.

“You—!” Her face was white, her eyes were wide, and Petunia Dursley, née Evans, practically growled in her outrage.

Harry found himself thinking that Brazil might be a very nice place to live. It was far away from Privet Drive, for a start.  He wondered what it would take to get there.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Tuney?” Snape’s foot had blocked the door from closing.  “I’m more than happy to have this confrontation on your front step if you’d prefer.”

“We, ah, brought some biscuits,” Lupin added. “Store bought. Assorted.  With chocolate.  Er, I’m, ah, we’re the new neighbors. So nice to meet you again.”

Petunia goggled at the lot of them.

She also stumbled back, which Snape seemed to take as an unspoken invitation.  Harry found himself dragged along in the professor’s wake, with only Sirius’ hand on his shoulder to steady him in the swift tide of strangeness.

“I can’t believe your taste in interior decoration deteriorated into this level of disgusting kitsch and doilies, Tuna,” said the man who decorated with floating dead things in jars. Severus surveyed the photos on the wall, on the mantle, on the little side table.  So many perfectly posed pictures of a happy family of three- mother, father, son- and a lock on the cupboard under the stairs. Narcissa had been absolutely right.

“Is that my jumper?” Harry jumped.  Petunia’s voice was high and thin and quite peculiar.

“You’ve really done a terrible job of raising Potter,” said Snape, and Harry bristled. Of course Snape wanted to criticize him, Harry had been expecting the criticism, but he loathed the thought of his two biggest critics were now sharing notes and combining forces.

“Not only is he, like the majority of students, a careless menace in the laboratory, but I have also wasted entirely too much of my already limited time deciphering his atrocious penmanship to correct insipid essay after insipid essay only to see the same flawed reasonings repeated week after week.” It was news to Harry that he was supposed to read the sea of spidery red notes Snape deposited on every essay.  It seemed rather unfair, given that Snape could fit five lines of text for every one line Harry wrote. The single “P”, or the occasional and welcome “A”, was more than sufficient in Harry’s view.

“That’s my jumper.” There was a touch of hysteria in Petunia’s tone now.

“He will be taking his O.W.L.s this year, his O-levels if you prefer,” Snape continued, demonstrating more confidence in Harry’s continued survival than Harry typically expected to hear from the Potions Master. “Unfortunately, his current record of scholastic mediocrity, his stubborn refusal to revise, and a peculiar incuriosity about magical theory does not bode well for his continued academic career.”

“You little bastard! That’s my goddamn jumper!” Petunia’s shriek derailed Snape’s momentum.  The unexpected profanity from his aunt made Harry’s brain stutter to a halt.

“Tuna,” Snape frowned, “We’re not here to discuss my sartorial decisions and I will never take wardrobe critique from you.  I only deigned to enter this suburban hellscape to discuss your horrendous failure to raise and parent Mr. Potter.”

“Biscuit, Harry?” Sirius offered, retrieving the tin from Remus.

“You stole my jumper!” Shockingly, Petunia’s epiphany failed to shatter glass.  Yet.

“Didn’t,” sniffed Snape.

“I thought it was Lily who stole my jumper!”

“She did. I just hid it for her.” 

“I bought that jumper myself!  I’d saved up!”

“Yes, I know.”

“It was for an interview!”

“We wanted to spare you the humiliation of being seen in public wearing such a hideous thing.  You even got that position, even if you didn’t keep it for very long.”

The biscuit was rather good, even without tea, and it was beginning to dawn on Harry that Snape and Aunt Petunia were more inclined to tear into one another than join forces against him. He felt oddly inclined to cheer for Professor Snape, despite the ranting about Harry’s scholastic shortcomings. Perhaps it was because Harry knew so little about his mother that every glimpse was a pearl he treasured.

“I want my jumper!” Did she learn that tone from her little Diddykins or had Dudley inherited that petulant demanding pitch from Petunia?

“And I want you to understand how your failure to nourish any academic inclinations Mr. Potter may have shown before the age of eleven may have rather dire consequences for futures beyond his own, but I fear we can’t all get what we want.” Remus handed Harry another biscuit before he could think to protest.

“Give me back my jumper!”

“Fine!” Snape finally snapped, fingers tearing at the buttons in wrathful haste.  “Fine, here!”

Petunia caught the cardigan with her face and a squeak.

Severus Snape looked like a stranger again, in the ratty, oversized band shirt, hair disheveled from the jumper’s passage.  Harry hadn’t seen the Dark Mark his professor had shoved under Minister Fudge’s nose in the Hospital Wing those few weeks ago, and he found himself oddly glad that the mark was concealed under a peculiar leather bracelet with metal studding.  A wand holster, perhaps.

“Are you prepared to face your shortcomings now, Tuney?” That dangerously silky tone was entirely familiar, and Harry took another biscuit before he was told to go serve detention during summer vacation.

“It smells like Cokeworth,” Petunia’s complaint was bitter, for she dreaded the day her neighbors discovered the lingering taint of the Cokeworth streets sullying their Surrey security.

“Hey,” said Sirius, who had gone oddly still.

“I wasn’t going to take it to Hogwarts, was I?” Snape said.  “It’s acrylic, you know that sort of stuff doesn’t hold up around magic.”

“Hey,” said Sirius.  “Hey.” His face was a rictus of delight, as pleased as Petunia had been put out. “Snape. Isn’t that, isn’t that my shirt you’ve got on?”

“Oh, oh,” snarled Severus.  “Not you too!”

[reilliane]

Folly ✤ Scaramouche

A/N: This takes place in the same universe as 'Devilry' (aka the crackfic), where MC is the previous Sixth Harbinger dubbed as 'Mistress Fiore'.

✤ Mentions of death

✤ There's nothing wrong with indulging in dangerous follies every now and then, especially if that folly is nothing but that fascinating defector.

Words: 2.1k

Within the expanse of the temple draped in a frosty twilight gathers a handful of dignitaries, all with a single purpose; to grieve for the fallen.

Well, their grieving may be a tepid act—after all, one cannot overlook the possibility that their hearts are more bristling than mourning. The fact remains that it is still only a mere assumption, though.

Despite being... comrades in arms, not one of them truly knows what the other bears inside their chest. Aside from the obvious mutual belligerence, of course.

“Who invited the mistress here?”

The voice rises amid the frigid air, biting as though it carries frost in its tone.

Naturally, everyone's attention is piqued. It's a question that serves both to distract themselves from the loss of an ally and to ascertain the reason for the arrival of an unsought guest.

But is the aforementioned person truly uninvited?

“You wound me, can I not be present to send my own farewell to the Eighth?” you speak up with faux umbrage, stepping beyond the shadows of the pilasters.

Far from being disconcerted by the number of eyes nipping at your profile like tiny cicins, you lift your head, meeting the faces of those you previously deemed comrades. Now mere... 'acquaintances'.

“Besides, don't you think it's only expected for me to fill in the blank slot that the Balladeer left open for this moment?”

It isn't like you're going to take back the position afterward.

The knowing hum settles an air of brewing resignation, tinged with a bit of vexation that seems to come to the group naturally.

Tartaglia clicks his tongue from his place at the pews, voice amicably austere. “Calm down, it was I who invited Fiore.”

His answer dispels most of the lingering bafflement in the crowd and the ceremony carries on without delay and reluctance.

Although, you huff in disbelief. It's more of a business meeting than a funeral ceremony.

You decide not to speak against it, however, aware of your standing in the place. Instead, you've taken to observing the varying expressions on their faces. They're all so impervious as ever.

The plan not to opine fails later on though, following the ludicrous decree about the momentary pause of business and other affairs as well as Pantalone's opinion about it.

“Half a day's holiday?” you find yourself giggling, though it's crystal clear that you're far from being amused. “Careful, your gracious facade seems to be slipping, mister disingenuous mayor.”

Pulcinella crinkles his nose and adjusts his spectacles with a sigh.

“Hm, I'd rather not open my ears to the words of an ex-Harbinger. Do be content that we allowed you to stay.”

You whistle, finding no reason to deny the latter portion of his statements. It's irking how he seems to dismiss your previous rank as the Sixth and denigrate your current status, though.

As if sensing the subdued venom beginning to rise from your throat, another voice cuts in.

“Can you cease the farcical banter?” Arlecchino gives her fellow Harbinger a pointed stare, scrutiny evident in her eyes. “[Name] may no longer be in the official ranks, but she was the only one who ever sought camaraderie between you half-hearted dignitaries.”

Her concern for this shoddy, half-hearted excuse of a holiday is thus valid. Is the underlying message.

You cup your cheeks with a pleased smile, drawing out a long, grateful sigh. “My, thank you, lady Arle. Ever the justiciar.”

Her auxiliaries are anticipated, yes, but you didn't think she'd actually support you. But then again, she seems to be the only one who genuinely grieves the death of Signora. Apart from Pantalone and Pierro—and maybe even Tartaglia.

The Knave transfers her look towards you. It's nothing short of perfunctory, perhaps even a bit scunnered.

“That does not remove the fact that you are no longer one of us. You've only until the end of condolences before you are to leave.”

Of course.

“Oh, the woes of being unwanted!” you bemoan, holding your head for a melodramatic show.

You can tell that doing so has earned you a couple dirty looks and though you feel a tad awful—borderline catalyzing the enmity when again, this is no place to start a fight—you do not apologize.

Well, not to them.

It's an indecent, immoral act, but you like to believe that you're the lesser evil in the room.

With a step forward, you ascend a few inches into the air, moving past the Harbingers and hovering over the intricately gilded cenotaph. No one stops you.

Caressing the marble surface of the tomb makes you note how it's a lot colder than the atmosphere.

Unfitting for the Witch whose heart only knew how to be set ablaze.

But if you consider the Delusion she's been gifted, then it is appropriate; for a blazing heart to freeze and shatter, unable to rekindle its loving warmth.

“Looks like I am only as transient as a minute here, Rosalyne.” there is silence in the temple. Not one voice overpowers yours.

Maybe they have finally gotten self-conscious? It's funny to think that someone who is no longer a Harbinger is the first to send her farewell. What ridicule!

With a silent, single clap, you expel a breath and hum. Your time here is done—you'll have to thank Childe sometime for the official invitation.

Pierro is just about to say something- business talk, maybe. Whatever it is, it does not include you, and to be honest, you'd rather not be included, either.

You vanish into a myriad of snowflakes before anyone can raise a word, leaving only your final murmurs resonating within the temple.

“May your soul find peace in the embers of that which you burned.”

Your next destination leads you to the familiar lands of Liyue and to the terra that stretches past its borders.

The swift travel from the icy nation back to a more tropical one has depleted most if not all of your stamina, so you stayed at an inn for a little while to recuperate.

Although you do have an objective in mind, you aren't in a rush. It's safe to say that you are one step further than the Fatui Harbingers, hence the insouciance.

Besides, like some magical work of nature, you are far attuned to the presence you're seeking, so searching doesn't come off as difficult. In fact, you are able to find him merely two days after staying at Wangshu Inn.

Conspicuous even without trying to, the violets and reds of his attire are emphasized amid the drying greens of the environment. He's dwelling in discreet places, however, managing to shroud himself in the shadows and not make a sound.

Any traveler—not the blond one, though—will fail to see him. But unfortunately, he sticks out to you like a sore thumb.

“For once, you are trying to be discreet.”

The defector stills with a muted hiss, swift to register the arrival of someone as well as the lack of additional weight on his head.

His buttons are already pressed, but annoyance and genuine indifference aside, he's at least thankful that he's found by non-Fatui first.

“Mm, but the hat's still remarkably ostentatious, don't you think so?”

Not like being found by Harbingers poses that much of a problem, he'd simply fight them. That said, he's this close to flicking out his catalyst, too...

“Scaramouche.”

He doesn't, though, and decides to just humor the person who's managed to trace his steps from Inazuma.

Immediately, he meets a pair of gushed [c]s and the usual smile he's seen—unwillingly—far too many times to count. Clicking his tongue, he grumbles.

“Tsk, Fiore.”

No sort of communication has transpired between them in the past months, not after the research about the meteorites and the godawful luncheon shared between them along with Signora and Tartaglia.

So, he isn't going to lie and say that he's not surprised to see her in front of him.

'Fiore' sighs hyperbolically, the theatrical action quick to make the man roll his eyes. He expected nothing less.

She starts with a spin, showing off her apparel that although carried a few similarities from her previous Harbinger attire, looked more... liberated.

In the sense that it's unique, a style that screamed 'Fiore' instead of the nations in Teyvat.

“You misunderstand, Balladear, I'm not Fiore, but [Name]. I'm a free woman. I'm in no organizations.”

That's new, for the last time he saw her, she was still rather attached to the organization. Or perhaps that's her way of supervising him, the one who had taken her place.

He must've been scrutinizing her appearance with a silence that lacked his usual aggro—because before he knows it, the lady leans forward with a wink.

It sends a chill down his back.

“Nor in any relationships, if you catch my drift.”

Bitter Archons above-

“Get the hell out of my sight.” Scaramouche snarls with pinched brows, turning away in disgust after snagging his hat back.

He really doesn't know what else to expect of her, but he's a little relieved that she hasn't grown out of that preposterous charm of hers. Still devilishly annoying, but he's not one to talk.

Uninterested in the laughter that rings behind him, he continues his trek toward the neighboring nation of Sumeru. At the moment, there's nothing but the crucial need to get away.

An impossible thing—for the Fatui always manages to catch up, he knows that better than anyone—but that's a headache for another day.

He already has one just seeing this woman and the humid air is not helping alleviate it. Sweat is rolling down his temples and it's only the nice cover of his hat that prevents him from melting into mush under the raging sun.

A cold gust of wind blows through him, the discordant chill amid the otherwise dry area implying that it was done with the use of both a Vision and Delusion.

Perceptive as always, that girl.

“The Tsaritsa is rather upset, you know?” she calls, voice steadily growing closer.

He was about to address her use of Anemo and Cryo—maybe slot in an impossible thanks—but that's thrown out of his mind a second later.

The Tsaritsa?

Huffing, he doesn't bother stopping and facing her, wary of his growing headache 'cause damn. “Two-faced liar, so you were with them.”

“To pay respects,” the response is quick, as though his censures were foreseen. “Signora was a nice comrade. A little haughty, but nice.”

Nice. Scaramouche almost laughs. Signora, nice.

Perhaps her competency with taking the Queen's piece, yes.

But only someone with a loose screw can ever describe the pile of ash as nice, but then again, this is [Name]. If devilish isn't her middle name, then perhaps eccentric is.

“They will be coming after you. You are aware of that, aren't you?”

Exasperating works, too.

“What do you take me for? An idiot?” he finally stops, unable to hide the offense on his face as he swivels with a glare.

Is he being disparaged? Him?

The venom on his tongue is milliseconds away from coating the words he's about to convey, but he receives an answer before he can do so.

“A renegade with a bounty over his head heading to Sumeru. I hope you weren't blinded by what you sought.” [Name] answers with a shrug, her pretty [c]s fixated on the glimmer of violet peeking behind the overlays of fabric.

On the defensive, Scaramouche lifts a hand to cover the glow of the Electro Archon's Gnosis. He does this even though he's aware that [Name] has no intention of stealing it from him.

In any case, she's much more likely to steal his damned hat again.

He scoffs once more. “I'm none of your business.”

Leave me alone.

The message needn't be said when it's already so obviously implied.

Having uttered what he wanted, he resumes his pace, thinking of feasible plans for the coming few days. He has no doubts that a Harbinger is going to be sent after him.

Eyes forward, he walks with his chin tipped high, confident and unfaltering of what lies ahead. There is nothing to fear, nothing to be bewildered over.

The macabre art of war comes to him naturally and there aren't any qualms about death, he is used to such things. But if there is one thing he isn't used to, then...

“Do you have a death wish?” he halts and asks this, genuinely lost in a confusion that he won't admit out loud.

Only the sound of his feet against the terra is heard a minute ago, but he isn't oblivious to the following figure at his back, levitating as always. Nonchalant as she can possibly be.

“What you're doing is nothing but utter folly.”

Why are you still here?

He doesn't even need to turn around to see [Name] shrug. As if she isn't at all deterred by the fact that she can die if she continues to follow him.

“I know.” she answers, sounding insanely delighted.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue again.

If there's anything he isn't accustomed to, then it is the devilish [Name].

“You're mad.”

Only a giggle answers his words as he begins to walk again, making no move to stop her any longer and letting her float around him with a bunch of jests rolling past her tongue.

He's irked, but that's alright.

He's fond of pretty and exasperating devils, anyway.

a/n: mm, nothing like scara pretending not to care that mc decided to stick with him when in fact he's actually all "aw ye" about it deep down lmao

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 306: the beginning of the WHAT

Previously on BnHA: Nana and the Gang were all, “hey Deku, we can read your thoughts and feelings so we should already know the answer to this, but for some reason we want to quiz you on whether or not you’d be down to kill Shigaraki Tomura.” Deku was all, “um okay, well tbh, probably not seeing as Saving People has been my entire thing since literally the start of the series.” The Vestiges were all, “yes that makes perfect sense and again we already knew that, but well, good for you buddy and I’m glad we had this talk. Anyway I guess we should ask these two cryptic fuckers in the corner to finally turn around now before we run out of -- ” and then the chapter ended. Because OF COURSE IT DID.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WOULDN’T IT BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I GAVE YOU A CONFUSING CHAPTER WHERE EVERYONE FINALLY LEARNS ABOUT OFA, AND GOES BACK TO THE DORMS, AND THEN THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH DEPRESSED NOMAD DEKU STANDING ON A PRECIPICE WITH GRAN TORINO’S TATTERED CAPE FLOWING IN THE WIND.” Everyone is all, “???????????” Horikoshi is all, “also the parents are moving to the U.A. campus, and Jeanist’s neck is two and a half feet long, for everyone that was wondering.” Everyone is all, “WHERE ARE KACCHAN AND TODOROKI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHO ARE THE SECOND AND THIRD USERS”, and Horikoshi is all, “:)” and fades away into nothingness like the fucking fae he is. Like a fucking imp who’s kept his end of the cursed bargain. What, the, fuck.

okay guys, so after the longest Thursday of my fucking life, during which I was secretly hoping that my spoiler containment net would be somehow be breached, inadvertently exposing me to theta spoiler radiation, so that I could be all “oh no... spoilers... there’s nothing I can do... I have no choice but to look” (which sadly did not happen), it is finally Friday and the chapter is finally out. so I’ve got my clown kit at the ready and other self-deprecating memes on standby, and I’m ready to go. and I should note that I’m also ready for Horikoshi to pull some absolute bullshit and be like, “oh you know what, we haven’t checked in with Rat Principal in a while have we” and spend the entire chapter on nonsense like that. I’M READY FOR FUCKING ANYTHING so bring it

(ETA: it would be nice if this man wouldn’t call my bluff every now and again.)

oh, right, we were due a color page! wow look at this

isn’t this supposed to be the future?? what’s with all of these staticky CRT TVs

anyway, so! is this the first time we’ve seen Tomura’s stylish finger prosthetic glove thingy in color?? because I didn’t expect it to be red. also, at some point you just have to give in and change your pants into cutoffs or something, Tomura. start a new trend of stylish villain capris

meanwhile Deku is dressed like he’s going on a journey into the desert to find a mystical oasis. actually this cape looks a lot like Gran Torino’s. I have to go back and see if Gran’s is all raggedy like this

(ETA: it wasn’t before but APPARENTLY IT IS NOW. I also forgot that Horikoshi had showed it sitting on a side table in the hospital a few chapters ago.)

lastly, AFO looks like someone’s thumb after they’ve been washing dishes for twenty minutes. you are just the ugliest dude in history, and as always, fuck you

HAHAHA SOB I KNEW IT

oh, Twowy McTwoface is finally starting to turn around? better CUT BACK TO DEKU’S HOSPITAL ROOM THEN. wouldn’t want to accidentally ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS or SOLVE ANY MYSTERIES, god forbid

well, whatever. whatever!! anyway so now someone’s knocking at the door. I say “someone” but we all know it’s Hawks

yep

they were actually standing outside the door for a while hoping they’d overhear another juicy plot conversation, but no such luck this time

lmaooo Jeanist wtf

acting all embarrassed, but you’re really just as curious as Hawks is. making him do all the dirty work for you huh

ARE YOU SERIOUS THIS IS AN INJUSTICE

so like two seconds after Katsuki gets dragged away you open the door for the rest of them!! well, fine!! I really want it to be a more private/personal moment between the two of them anyway so let the other kids check in on Deku first then

and in the meantime, time to see Hawks put the thumbscrews to All Might’s resolve lol

I wonder how much of it Hawks has already put together in the last five minutes. One for All is something connected to All for One that Tomura seems to want. Tomura was apparently targeting Deku. that’s more than enough to make a few deductions right there. I wonder how much Hawks knows about Deku’s quirk. he did watch the sports festival, and he ran into the kids interning under Endeavor that one time

okay well maybe he hasn’t put the rest of it together just yet, but Hawks is making a pretty reasonable pitch here to All Might

also this is a pretty spectacular view. is this a hospital or a hotel??

AHLKJLKJLKJ ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL THEM

OH MY GOD HE IS?!?!

JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED, THE NEXT TWO PEOPLE TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT OFA ARE GOING TO BE HAWKS, AND BEST FUCKING JEANIST

-- LFKLKKLDK ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. ARE YOU --

( •̀_•́ )

[sitting cross-legged on the ground pulling up little clumps of grass and letting them fall from my fingers one by one] yeah. sure. okay. fine. sure

-- OKAY, NO. NUH-UH. NO

everybody better hold tight cuz I’m about to pick up this whole chapter and yeet it into the ocean like a fucking frisbee lol

HORIKOSHI I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE PEOPLE SITTING HERE WATCHING TV WTF

-- OH

well okay then. proceed. though lord help me if they’re about to reveal the secret of OFA to the whole fucking world skdkj

oh snap

well, there it is. pretty much what I expected, but it’s good to actually get to see this moment with him taking responsibility

though at the same time, thank you Horikoshi for not forcing us to sit through the rest of that

their fucking faces omg. okay but seriously, what nation doesn’t secretly love a good scandal

the Endeavor Pamphlets, part two. thank you for giving the country something to opine about on twitter in these trying times, Enji

so now they’re asking about Hawks and Jeanist but I cannot even focus on anything all of a sudden because what?!

is Jeanist even a real actual human being you guys?! are we sure he’s not three kids sitting on each other’s shoulders?? are you related to that one guy with the really long neck from the Jedi Council?? are you Orochimaru, bro??

so now Hawks is apologizing for the murder of Twice, and for hiding the connection with his dad

the fact that he has to give this serious formal apology and beg forgiveness for the shameful crime of Having An Abusive Father is really something else, though. just. it’s realistic, but I still hate it

moving on now to the one thing he actually does owe the public an explanation for

not to go all “Hawks did nothing wrong” on you guys yet again, but seriously. 100% facts. fandom can (and no doubt will) debate this until the end of time, but if Twice had gotten away they wouldn’t be having this press conference right now because there wouldn’t be any heroes left to give one. anyways though, I’ve already said more than enough about that in previous posts

so now some severe-looking lady with the weirdest fingers I’ve ever seen is saying that her mother was injured during Machia’s rampage

and she’s basically all “a fuck lot of good ‘I’m sorry’ does us all about now.” true true

wow she’s really getting fired up

and now Enji is basically saying that he understands that an apology isn’t enough, and what they really need now are solutions. okay, well! SO THEN WHAT IS THE PLAN THEN

hmmfsdgh

this eloquent PEZ dispenser makes a good point you guys

wait, hold up

CERTAIN citizens?? um excuse me, what??

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit

holy shit. well, this will go over well

okay! so this tells me a number of things, though

basically the minute that Hawks learned about One for All, he realized that anyone connected to Deku (e.g. Inko) would be a target for AFO. AFO wants OFA, meaning AFO wants Deku, and one of the easiest ways to get to Deku would be to target his family

Hawks therefore realized that Inko needed to be placed into protective custody

but the fact that ALL of the hero course students’ families (and is it only the U.A. hero course, or all of the hero course students across the country?) are being given protection tells me that Hawks and co. don’t want to single Deku out as being important. so then it looks like they’re not going to tell everyone about OFA (or at least not the public. which, good). so rather than drawing suspicion by saying “we’ve got to protect everyone connected with this one kid”, they’re making it seem like all the U.A. kids’ families are getting this treatment

but since the heroes are now spread so thin, they can’t just send a protective detail to each and every family, so they’re bringing all of the families to the same place instead to better keep an eye on them

so that’s all well and good, and a very smart move. except that idk how all of this is going to go over with the general public, all of whom are probably feeling unsafe at the moment, and who will probably see this as preferential treatment -- basically just the heroes looking after their own and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves

(ETA: okay so @hanashimas​’ translation clarifies that U.A. is offering their services as an evacuation shelter for everyone who wants it, not just the families of the U.A. students. that’s much more appropriate so I withdraw my previous “wtf” reaction lol.)

anyway though here’s Mitsuki and Inko

can we take this as confirmation that the two of them really are friends? that’s one piece of fanon that I’ve always hoped was true, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s confirmed

(ETA: also this means that Hagakure’s parents (or maybe “parents” in quotation marks) will supposedly be moving in as well. sure am curious as to how that’s going to go.)

now someone in the press crowd is asking whether U.A. can provide adequate security, which is honestly the LAST thing I expected these people would be outraged about lol. shows what I know I guess

(ETA: again though, this makes sense if the “certain civilians” thing was just a translation error.)

LMAO DAMMIT ENJI

YOU CAN’T JUST ALWAYS PULL THE “JUST WATCH ME” TRICK AND EXPECT IT TO SHUT DOWN THE CONVERSATION EVERY DAMN TIME YOU ASSHOLE

-- OH MY GOD RED ALERT

TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BECAUSE OMG

WASH CAN’T BELIEVE HIS FAMILY GROUP CHAT IS STILL SENDING HIM FUCKING MEMES AT A TIME LIKE THIS. HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK IF THE DABI DANCE IS TRENDING ON TIKTOK, MOM!!

FOR A MINUTE I THOUGHT MT. LADY WAS HOLDING MIDNIGHT’S TORN-UP MASK, AND BY THE TIME I REALIZED THAT’S ACTUALLY HER MASK AND NOT MIDNIGHT’S, I HAD ALREADY CONSTRUCTED AN ELABORATE HEADCANON IN WHICH MT. LADY AND MIDNIGHT WERE SECRETLY DATING BUT HADN’T COME OUT TO ANYONE YET, AND THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK, AND NOW MT. LADY IS GETTING READY TO SET OUT TO SEEK VENGEANCE. AND WELL, NOW THAT THIS HEADCANON EXISTS IN THE WORLD, I’M NOT SURE IF I’M READY TO GET RID OF IT

MIRKO HAS GOTTEN HERSELF A PROSTHETIC (ROBOT??!) ARM, NOTHING ELSE THAT’S HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT!!! HELLO!!!!!

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH GOOD LORD. THE WORLD ISN’T READY. HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN’T SLEPT IN NINETY-EIGHT YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW HE MAKES IT INTO THE HOTTEST THING EVER AS PER USUAL

WHO THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING GUY. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HIM? IS THIS KAMUI?? WAS THAT THING WHICH I ALWAYS ASSUMED WAS HIS HAIR ACTUALLY A HELMET OR SOMETHING WHAT

LOL AND MEANWHILE

you tell me, Dabi! weren’t you the one who said that wouldn’t be enough to kill him? what even is your endgame here. I’m starting to worry about the villain brain cell supply you guys. I feel like Compress took most of them with him when he left

OH??

“when asked about One for All, Endeavor fucking lied through his teeth.” well, well, well

SLKDFJLSKGDJLKLKGJL THE DORMS

( ⁰ ⌂ ⁰ )

SLDKJFLKJWLKJLK

WLKDJSLKJFWKELKSDJLKHGLK

HDSMFLKGKL:GDSELK

OCHAKO’S HAND IS SHAKING OH MY GOD

THERE’S YOUR KAMINARI, EVERYONE!!

RHA’S SCANLATION TEAM REALLY THREW DEKU’S HANDWRITING UNDER THE BUS HERE HUH

HE TOLD EVERYONE!?

WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IT AS A LETTER

(ETA: 9. also if he really wrote every kid in his class then that means the U.A. traitor -- or Hagakure as we like to call her around these parts -- also knows about OFA, and knows that Deku has run the fuck off and isn’t at U.A. anymore. so that’s just great!)

OH HELL NO

the hell does that mean, you must leave. leave to go where. son you are not up and leaving to go power up and lead us all into a timeskip. and I swear to GOD, if you left Kacchan too...!!

MY GOD I CAN’T PROPERLY ABSORB ALL OF THESE OCHAKO FEELS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO TERRIFIED TO SCROLL TO THE LAST FUCKING PAGE, FUCK

I JUST GOTTA DO IT. I JUST GOTTA SUCK IT UP AND DO IT. FUCK

FUCK

WHAT. THE. FUCK

y’all I’m not even gonna waste your time with more keysmashing, JUST ASSUME THAT I AM DOING IT NONSTOP, FOREVER. and let’s just jump RIGHT IN HERE

okay so here I thought that All Might and co. had taken him away somewhere to train, but that is CLEARLY not what’s going on here. this kid is standing here in his Apocalypse Aesthetic hero costume which has CLEARLY seen better days, with Gran Torino’s cloak (GUESS THAT EXPLAINS THAT, THEN?? SO DID GRAN FUCKING DIE EXCUSE ME WTF), and a fucking backpack. this little green idiot has RUN AWAY FROM HOME. this is the absolute LAST THING ON EARTH I ever expected to happen so PARDON ME WHILE I SCREAM CONFUSEDLY INTO THE VOID

he does not look okay. you guys he doesn’t look okay at ALL. he has NEVER looked like this. this isn’t just a “I’m sad because I’m leaving all my friends behind” kind of look on his face, or even just a “Gran Torino died maybe and I’m still having emotions over it” look. this is an EXHAUSTED, dead look in his eyes. something terrible has happened

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARMS DEKU. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS GODDAMMIT

love how this random building is just straight up collapsing, like that’s just a normal thing that happens every day now. lovely

APRIL MEANS IT’S NOW FULL ON SCHEDULED ALL-MIGHT-DYING-HOURS, BUT LET’S COMPLETELY IGNORE THAT THOUGH BECAUSE FUCK THAT NOISE

“THE SECOND USER? WHO KNOWS? CERTAINLY NOT ME” HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD

“BAKUGOU? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!” HORIKOSHI PLEASE

WHERE. IS. KACCHAN

did he go with Deku?? did he get a chance to talk to him before he left?? did he get his own private letter which he read and then promptly blew up in a fit of panicked rage?? is he going to go after him?? DOES HORIKOSHI KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW?? OF COURSE HE DOES, DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT

omg. though actually the fact that we’ve already jumped a few weeks forward makes me hopeful that there won’t actually be another timeskip, or at least not much of one. I’m sure that’ll be the big debate of the week, but I don’t think we can jump too far forward here. for starters because of that All Might prophecy I mentioned. and also because TomurAFO isn’t just going to wait around for months. and also because I’m 100% sure that Deku’s running-away backpack is just filled ENTIRELY WITH NOTEBOOKS and this asshole cannot possibly survive more than 3 days on his own. UNLESS SOMEONE COMES TO HELP HIM THAT IS. OR SOMEONES, EVEN. OMG. omg omg omg. fuck this chapter lmao

[drabbles-mc]

Could you do a HC on how the Mayans men would react to a girl getting hit on at a bar and the guy not taking no for an answer, like they don't know her or anything. I feel like they all respect women enough to at least do something about it; ya know?

All of the Mayans men wake up every day and drink a full pitcher of Respect Women Juice. They will not tolerate disrespect in their house. HC’s under the cut!

(I couldn’t decide if i wanted to do third person or reader insert for these but I settled on reader insert. Hopefully it works alright)

Bishop:

-Senses the tension immediately 

-My man sits back and watches the entire clubhouse all night. He knows everything that’s going on. And when he notices that some guy is refusing to leave you alone, he instantly gets up and goes to intervene.

-He’s not hot-headed about it. He doesn’t have the time or the energy for that anymore. But he places himself between the two of you, looking back and forth, “Everything alright here?”

-The guy would try to brush it off and reassure him that yea, of course everything is okay you can leave now. But Bishop wouldn’t have any of that. He’d cut him off mid-sentence, “I wasn’t fucking asking you.”

-He’d turn to you and ask again if you’re alright. You’d give a slight shake of her head no, not wanting to stir up drama but also not wanting to deal with this dude anymore. And that’s all it would take.

-”I think you should leave,” he wouldn’t yell. Just state it as a fact. But when the guy would try to argue that’s when he would get a little more heated. He’d step in closer to the dude’s face, but not putting hands on him, “I said you should fucking leave.”

-Bishop only uses yelling and brute force as a last resort. Very rarely does it ever come to that. He would follow the guy all the way to the clubhouse door, making sure that he actually leaves before going back to check on the poor girl that he was harassing. He 100% lingers close for the rest of the night to make sure no one bothers you.

Angel:

-King of being the Fake Boyfriend.

-My tall boy might be emotionally illiterate sometimes but he can read a social situation. When he sees a girl scrambling to try and come up with excuses to make a guy leave her alone, he has no problem inserting himself into the situation. 

-Smooth as fuck walking up to you, greeting you while resting a protective hand on your shoulder. Instantly setting the tone to whoever is talking to you that this was a useless endeavor.

- "Hey, querida,” he’d wait for you to look at him, “Sorry, didn’t see you walk in. You get a drink already? Want me to get you something?”

-The look in his eyes would let you know that he’s offering you an out to the uncomfortable situation that you’re in. He’s not trying to flirt--he’s just trying to drive away whatever asshole wasn’t catching the hint that you didn’t want to talk.

- "Who the fuck are you?” this is a problem that the guy did not see coming.

-Angel would look at him, eyes narrow, “I’m her boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?”

- The question is rhetorical. It doesn’t matter who the guy is. Angel doesn’t give him a chance to answer. He steps closer to the guy, towering over him. He looks down at him and is practically begging the guy to say something stupid so he has an excuse to physically throw him out the front door.

- He doesn’t get the chance, though. The guy reads the cue, knows that it’s a fight that he will not win, and walks away.

- Angel would turn back to you, “You good? Sorry about that. Didn’t seem like he was getting the hint.”

- You’d shake your head, “He wasn’t. Thank you, I appreciate the assist.”

- “No problem,” he’d pause, “But forreal did you get a drink already? First round on me.”

Ezekiel:

- Y’all remember the casino scenes with the cops? That’s how he handles shit.

- Master of keeping his cool in frustrating situations. Completely follows your lead. He sees a lot of weird interactions being on the serving side of the bar, always clocking what’s happening in front of him in case he has to step in.

-He’d notice you rolling your eyes and giving short answers. He’d also notice that the guy either isn’t picking up the cues, or is willfully ignoring them. EZ catches your eyes a few times, silently asking if you want him to step in. You shake your head--the guy is annoying but harmless for the time being.

- Then he tries to touch you. Casually reaching for your shoulder, trying to rest his hand on your knee. You recoil, trying to create more space between the two of you. He doesn't care though.

- That’s when EZ can’t keep it to himself anymore. He’d sigh, not looking up from the glasses that he’s cleaning, “I don’t think she’s into you, man.”

- You and the man would both turn to look at him, each of you with a surprised expression on your faces. You’d stay quiet, wanting to see how the situation was going to play out. The man next to you would scoff, “I don’t remember you being part of this fucking conversation.”

- “I might as well be if I have to sit here and watch it. You’re the only one out of the three of us not suffering from how uncomfortable this is.”

- His commentary would ruffle some feathers. The man next to you would get defensive, “No one asked for your fucking opin--”

- Knowing that EZ had your back would give you a little extra confidence, “You should listen to him,” you nod, “He’s right. We’re suffering.”

- He’d be caught off-guard by the two of you teaming up on him. Realizing it wouldn't be worth the fight, he’d huff and walk away. EZ would watch him and chuckle, calling after him, “Least you could do is pay your fucking tab!”

- You’d laugh, glad to be done with the uncomfortable situation, “His drink and whatever you want are all on me tonight. As a thank you.”

- He’d give you that little smirk, “Don’t mention it.”

Coco:

- Zero tolerance policy.

- Not coy or polite about it at all.

-Instantly uses himself as a barrier between you and whatever guy it is that’s not leaving you alone. He might not be the biggest guy in the MC, but he sure as hell carries himself like he is when the situation calls for it.

-Will not hesitate to get nose-to-nose with whoever is bothering you. If someone wants to invade your space, he’ll invade theirs. Fair is fair.

- “You really can’t take a fuckin’ hint, huh?” he’d shake his head.

- “What’s your problem?” the man’s voice would sound confident but the look in his eyes would show that he really didn't want a problem with whoever this guy was getting in his face.

- “You. Fuckin’ beat it,” he’d jerk his head towards the door, “Don’t come back, either.”

- Coco carries himself with the confidence of a man that will make someone pay dearly for coming back uninvited. Confrontational situations usually resolve themselves quickly. People tend to not want to mess with him if they can avoid it.

-When the guy inevitably leaves not just you, but the clubhouse altogether, Coco finally turns back to you, “You good, ma?”

- You nod, watching him light up a cigarette, “Uh, yea. I’m good. Thanks for that.”

- He nods, blowing out a puff of smoke, “We’ll make sure that fucker never comes back.”

Hank:

- The only thing that Hank Loza drinks is Respect Women Juice. When he runs across someone that doesn’t, it gets out of hand really quickly.

-Bull in a china shop.

- The same man who is usually calm and cool and collected, physically removes whoever it is that is causing a problem. The guys have tried to teach him deescalation skills but it never sticks. It’s the only thing that Hank gets heated about so they all let it go at this point.

- Hank isn’t a small dude. When he steps toe-to-toe with someone he almost always out-sizes them. They get about 5 seconds to hear what he says and leave on their own before he removes them on his own.

- “You should leave her alone,” the friendly suggestion is really anything but.

- The guys are almost always cocky, not thinking that anything is actually going to happen to them, “Or what, tough guy?”

- They ignored their first and only warning. What happens next is all on them. Hank grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, lifting him from the ground. His voice is quiet, which is way more terrifying than yelling, “Let’s find out.”

- Hank lifts and carries the guy out, on the brink of dragging him like a caveman. The guy is yelling in protest, trying to swing, but Hank is unfazed.

- He throws the guy down the steps of the clubhouse, giving a final warning not to come back. No longer in an agumentative mood, the man takes off in a desperate attempt to avoid getting further tossed around.

- When he goes back into the clubhouse, the rest of the guys have moved on from the situaiton--to them it was business as usual for Hank. You, on the other hand, didn't see the situation unfolding that way at all. He walked back up to you, the anger gone from his face, a gentle smile there instead.

- “Are you alright?” he looks you over as if to make sure you didn't get hurt in the midst of it all.

- “Yea,” you nod, “I’m...I’m fine. Thanks. You...you didn’t have to do all that.”

- He’d chuckle, knowing that for him it was the only course of action, “Of course I did,” he’d gently rest his hand on the outside of your arm, “Let me know if anyone else gives you any trouble.”

Creeper:

- The smaller version of Hank, tbh. Constantly out here Respecting Women.

- Remember that scene where he catches a shotgun that’s tossed to him and immediately starts shooting on the highway?? That’s the energy he has when dealing with men who disrespect women.

- Cannot easily lift and remove men the same way Hank does, but he will throw hands without hesitation.

- The guys told him no more threatening with guns in the clubhouse. So fists will have to suffice.

- Does not offer a warning to the guy. If someone is being pushy or rude, they don’t deserve a heads-up. He will try to get your attention in some way first, to make sure that you want him to intervene. If he thinks that it’s going to get out of hand, or if you let him know with a pleading look that you could use the assist, he is instantly throwing himself into the middle of it.

- He’d catch your eye, motioning back and forth between you and the man in front of you to ask if you need an out. You’d give him a slight nod and that’s all it would take.

- Walking up, he grabs the guy by his shoulder and turns him around, “Hey, motherfucker,” he’d shove him towards the door of the clubhouse, “Leave.”

- Caught off-guard, the man would shove him back. Fully-bruised ego shining through, “Keep your hands off me.”

- That’s when you’d hear the first crack of a fist colliding with someone’s jaw. Your eyes would go wide, not ever having seen Creeper get like this. His focus would be completely on the man stumbling towards the ground in front of him, “I said get the fuck out.”

- It usually doesn’t take more than one punch to get his point across. HIs muscles aren’t just for show--getting clocked by him fucking hurts. They’re lucky that he’s not big on wearing rings.

- Once the threat is neutralized, he instantly shifts back into his quiet, gentler self to check in with you. He sees the surprise in your face at how things unfolded and he holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m done, promise.”

- It’d get you to laugh. You can see it in his expression that it’s almost like a switch he can flip on and off. “Um. Thank you. That...isn’t what I was expecting. But thank you.”

- “Are you alright?” he’d sit down next to you, mindful to give you some space.

- “Yea, I’m good. How’s your hand?”

- He’d chuckle, “All good. Nothing new.”

Okay this was a lot of fun. I love all these dorks. Hope you enjoyed! xo

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ BLACK JACKET WITH WHITE LETTERS ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Would I be able to request prompt 16 “You're mine. I don't share”. With Hank voight where they go to one of those police events and she works in his unit and they are a couple with her being younger and they dont have to be in police uniform so she wears a really nice dress and as he introduces her and talks to other people he knows, some of the men check her out and try flirt with her and he notices. Could there be a bit of smut if not that's cool to ❤❤

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 3k.

❚❙ Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send my a message! ⚡

Fortunately, it's been a quiet day, otherwise, you couldn't deal with a Districts event like the Commanders call them. A meeting that reunites every officer, inspector, detective, and whoever who wears ‘the blue uniform’; including special agents from the FBI. These last ones are the kind of man who pushes you out of your good mood with all that quackery about serving the whole country, the unlimited resources, the missions. Every time you hear a fed talking about how passionate and exciting their jobs are, you just want to punch their faces. Mostly, they're behind a desk while cops like you are protecting the streets of Chicago in the firing line. But, as Burgess and Upton said, it's time to have some fun. And anything else.

Since you don't have to wear that horrible uniform you use at official events, you have chosen a breathtaking black silk dress that fits your anatomy to perfection, falling from your chest, with a spaghetti strap neckline, to your ankles. And a pair of skyscraper highlights on the same color, with the small difference that the heels are tremendously golden. Your back is almost bare, being crossed by four fine strips, knowing it's going to give Hank some trouble. Oh, you're going to have so much fun tonight. You are very sure.

The soft make-up delights your cute, but lethal, outfit on point ready to leave Kim's house accompanied by your friends. You've arranged to meet at the party with the rest of the Unit since your future husband and Antonio needed to be from the start of the event, which means the three of you are going to earn more than some gazes by assisting alone, with no male figures by your sides. As if you need some kind of protection. Men (...).

Stepping out from your car and giving the keys to the parking attendant, who seems he's having a heart attack after watching you walk with so much cockiness and sensuality, you come into the party. The look you exchange with Kim and Hailey as soon as you check the reaction of the assistants, makes you draw a triumphant smile while raising your chin in some kind of greeting. You aren't going to stop now, leading your steps straight to your partners. Ruzek chokes on champagne with his eyes over Burgess, while Hank looks at you over the edge of his glass of bourbon taking a sip.

“You should work like that every day”. Antonio opines welcoming the three of you in his arms.

“I second that, brother”. Jay quickly adds making a toast with his cup of red wine.

“Bet you'd be the one who wouldn't work”. Hailey replies palming his chest, making you giggle.

In the meantime they continue arguing about the dress code, a strong arm gets placed around your lower back to push you somewhat closer, letting his hand fall over your hipbone. You know exactly what it means. Hank isn't the kind of jealous man, who needs to mark his territory like a dog. But you know that sometimes he feels insecure because of the age gap. He trusts you blindly, that's a fact, but he's human; he has fears and you understand it. Putting your left hand on the back of his neck, you caress his scalp almost unnoticeably, tilting your head to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek earning a satisfied grin from him.

“You look really beautiful tonight”. He whispers, watching you sideways as if it's a secret between you two.

“Thank you, Sergeant. I always try to do my best”.

Hank chuckles against his glass about to have a last sip till emptying it. Taking it from his hand, you pull yourself away to go to the bar and ask for two more drinks. You're thirsty and too sober to be a Friday night. Checking some emails on your phone while the bartender serves your order, you can't help but listen to some backtalk about your career. A couple of suited men combed as politicians and wrapped on a strong scent that throws your stomach. You try to ignore them until they're close enough from your position to offer you a hand in a formal greeting.

“Johnson and Derrick. FBI”.

The blonde one looks like a senior official, while the other looks like a newbie. Turning towards both, you come into the forced polite mood to stretch his hand firmly.

“(Y/L/N), Intelligence Unit, gentlemen. A pleasure”.

“The pleasure is ours, detective”.

“Special agent”. You correct him inevitably, even if it sounds arrogant.

“Special agent, of course”. Johnson replies with a nod of his chin. “I've read your file lately. I have no words to describe it. Graduated with excellent grades in Yale, two years in the Army, another undercover in a Cartel… And you also know how to fly a helicopter”.

“If you weren't from the FBI, I could think you've been stalking me like one of your serial killers, sir”. The sarcasm in your tone of voice earns your Unit's attention, very focused on the conversation between the feds and you.

“Who catches a monster without becoming one, right?”

The man introduces a hand under his jacket to offer you his business card. But you don't take it, just looking at it for a second before raising your eyes towards his.

“In your academy shows you to have the big balls to disrespect a Sergeant or a Chief, by trying to steal their officers in front of their faces? Because mine shows us to serve and protect the citizens”.

His gesture changes suddenly in a sight, hearing some chuckles behind you coming from Hailey and Kim. Raising both eyebrows as you don't get any reply back, you just nod before grabbing the two drinks you have asked for when they interrupted you. Coming back to your friends, you can't help but wrinkle your nose in a gesture of disgust earning more giggles from your partners. But it doesn't seem funny for Hank, who you know he's killing them in thousands of ways inside his head.

As the night passes, you notice Agent Johnson's eyes on you with no shame, starting to make you feel uncomfortable. Although you would be delighted to embarrass him in front of everyone, he has had enough from you. But this doesn't end there. Excusing yourself, you step to the terrace almost emptied to have some fresh air, knowing he's going to follow you. Maybe, to insist a little more. He was so interested in recruiting you to miss the chance.

And as you thought, he's that predictable. You don't turn because of his steps coming closer, but because he pretends to clear his throat to claim your attention. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to a side feigning curiosity with a forced smile showing up on your lips.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior. In my profession isn't habitual to find agents of your characteristics”.

“For sure, sir. It doesn't matter”.

“You could have an extraordinary career in the FBI”.

“I already have it where I am. I don't need schedules, cheap suits, and an earpiece to succeed”.

“I understand your relationship interferes in your decision, but you do—”.

“I'm sorry, you said what? Did you…? Oh, god, I can't fucking believe it”. You can't help but laugh shaking your head. “I don't have any relationship as soon as I wear my badge, sir. And you are starting to cross a line you don't want to cross. Believe me”.

“Ma'am, don't misunderstand my words, nor my intentions. I just think ma—”.

“Nobody asked you to think, Johnson”.

Raising your eyes over his shoulders, you can see your boyfriend sipping his glass of whisky, joining the talk as he tries to keep calm. You know Hank to perfection. If he wasn't your boss, he would have punched him already.

“If you continue pissing off my agent, we're gonna have a problem”.

The man just nods, alternating his gaze between the two of you. Seems that he has admitted his defeat.

“Beautiful and lethal. You're a son of a bitch with so much luck, Voight. Take care of this diamond. Or she will end up wearing a blue jacket with yellow letters”.

“Uh-huh”. He replies as you continue remaining silent.

Passing your boss away back to the party, leaving you alone, you can't hide the proud smile that turns your gesture into a funnier one. Taking short steps towards him, you steal the glass from his hand to drink from it under his attentive brown eyes.

“Blue isn't my color. Not at all. I'm more into black”. You whisper referring to the jackets you are used to wearing in the Chicago department.

“Hm…”

“Imagine having your badge hanging from your neck all day like a collar. Do I look like a dog? I prefer to have it on my belt. And I'm already used to the disgusting watered coffee we make in the twenty-one”. As you continue giving him more reasons, your forefinger traces a path up from his chest to his nape. “And I have so much fun driving my Dodge all around Chicago”.

“Anything else you wanna add?”

“Hm… no. Actually, not. That's all, sir”. You reply puckering your lips, pulling yourself away some inches with a playful aura wrapping you both.

“Now lemme tell you something here”. Hank says then, leaning over your ear. “You're mine, I don't share”.

His voice and his characteristic raspy voice gives you some chills down your spine bone. Biting your bottom lip unconsciously while he stands up, you know the party is over for you and it's time to go home. Holding your hand and taking back his glass of whisky, you walk inside to say your goodbyes before leaving the fancy place straight to the underground parking. You are not going to lie saying you don't love his dominant mood when the occasion demands it.

As soon as you reach your car, you can notice sideways Hank making sure you're totally alone. He doesn't usually take risks of being seen in public too lovey-dovey, but it's not about it this time and you can't wait for him to go ahead with his intentions. Of course, he doesn't make you wait for too long to push your back to the copilot door, attacking your neck in the meantime his hands grab your hips stealing you a low gasp. Hank makes himself between your legs, urging you to surround his waist with one of them to close the distance that separates you, feeling the need he has to mark his territory, as rarely he shows.

“Take me home”. You almost beg closing your eyes as his teeth are nailed on your most sensitive spot, earning a soft grunt that vibrates your body.

“I'm gonna take you here, sweetheart. Any problem?”

“Hell, no, sergeant”.

“Get in the car. Now”.

You don't complain, taking it as an order when he takes two steps back releasing your body and opening the back door for you. And the next minute passes too fast, rolling up your dress as Hank undoes his belt and unzips his pants. In just a sigh he's deep-buried between your legs. It's the first time you take this kind of risk, almost in public, and the horniness it produces is driving you crazy. With your lips almost touching the others, you moan uninhibited every time his hands on your lower back urge you to keep swinging your hips, sitting on his lap.

The way his eyes memorize every gesture drawn on your face has you breathless. It's a sensation you can't describe. Hank has some kind of power over you that you haven't experienced before, even if you think you're indomitable he always manages to make whatever he wants with you. And you know it. You let him do it. Just like right now, marking his territory with desirous bites and wet kisses all around your exposed throat. The most visible part of your body. He doesn't need to prove anything. He isn't the kind of man who needs to call out any other man who dares to lay his eyes on you. Everybody in this damn city knows you're more than his pupil and they're too scared to say hi, although there's always an exception to the rule. In this case, the FBI agents acting like carrion birds.

The mist clouds the windows, as the heat concentrated on your bodies makes you sweat slightly. Hank takes the control turning you under his body against the seat in a position that puts you to see the stars. Every move of his pelvis is accurate, hitting your g-spot, satisfied with how good his name sounds getting drowned between pleased moans once and again. With every push to your body, his dick is dug deeper through your tight wetness making him grunt into your ear, feeling more delighted than never before. And everything is because of the way you had to reply to that FBI agent in front of everyone, showing him how clear you have your preferences; not only because of your relationship, as Johnson pointed out. But because everybody in Chicago is aware that there's no better boss in law enforcement. There's no better Unit than the Intelligence one from the police department of your hometown.

As your legs get wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, one of his arms surrounds your middle back while his free hand flies straight to your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, the suffocating sensation within your lower belly continues growing with every thrust that steals the air from your lungs and races your heart over its possibilities. You're close. So close that your mind is a total blank, just focused on the way only he can make you feel. So good, so desired, so full of life. He knows it, he takes it in advantage. And he enjoys it more than anything.

“Oh, fuck…” Hank got you almost in tears because of the pleasure, traveling your hands to the back of his neck, nailing your nails there. “God… I'm gonna… Fuck, Hank, don't stop, please… Don't stop”.

“I won't, my love… Not till you give me what I want”.

His voice always plays dirty with your mind. The way he has to drag every syllable on his tongue with that husky voice that puts you to tremble, as he continues burying his hard dick inside you with no mercy, speeding up as soon as he feels your legs clung to his body slightly shaking. Because of the fewer insecurities he has about your relationship, he feels proud whenever he makes you reach that sweet sensation of the orgasm taking control of your anatomy. He doesn't care if he has to use his hands, his tongue… whatever. It's not only about sex between the two of you, of course not. But making you cum screaming out his name is an every-day-goal.

And you don't make him wait for too long, arching your back when a lash of heat hits your spine and the grenade inside your lower belly explodes. Your gasps fill up your car, while he continues fucking you harder than seconds before not showing any compassion to your exhausted body, looking for your lips to devours them desperately. His tongue starts a fight for dominance, winning over yours like every single time, in the meantime his fingers grips tightly your throat. Instinctively, you swing your hips in sync, provoking every move to go deeper among your shaky legs.

Hank can't hold it anymore, digging his cock to the limits of your guts, almost hitting your soul with a last strong lung. His warm seed fills you up completely, keeping pushing his body against yours, pressing both to the seat with his hands now placed on the headrest. It feels like a whole set of fireworks. Your moans complement his delighted growls to perfection.

“Don't move, please”. You beg with a thin voice thread, at the same time he rests his forehead on yours.

The two of you can barely breathe, trying to recover after an intense session of your favorite cardio workout. From nowhere, you can't help but giggle in unison. You can't believe you just fucked inside your car and with the risk of being caught in the act. A sergeant and one of his special agents. Even if it's your free night and you're in an established relationship, he's still your boss.

“I would miss working with you”.

“Huh?”

“If I get the FBI's offer”. You mumble, leaving clumsy kisses all around his face. “You're the best cop Chicago has”.

“You don't have to butter me up for a second round”.

Shaking your head briefly and laughing, you caress his scalp so gently as he sinks his face into your sweaty neck.

“Now you said so… maybe I have the fantasy of being bent over your desk”.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, just… maybe”.

“Then maybe I could bring you to my office, before going home. There's some paperwork to attend to”.

[peachbearies]

omg ion know if ur taking. Requests rn but I was wondering just a cute lil imagine bout zion in which the reader and him are dating and it's they're one yr aniversary or sum idk lol but just zion being a cutie and telling how much he loves her and shiii (because we all know that his ass acts all big and bad but he is a 6'4 teddy bear irl) yaa ik that was supper cringey but shehej yee okay byee (ur an amazing writer btw I've read all ur work and may I saY I stan 💖)

Promise: Z.kuwonu

Requested

›› Synopsis: it’s your first anniversary with Zion, around this trademark period it makes you apprehensive but Zion reminds you how much

›› Genre: Fluff

›› Paring: Female Reader x Zion Kuwonu

›› Warnings: Slightly hinted nsfw, lots of cursing (I mean it Zion so…), a little glimpse of toxic behavior.

›› A/N: what?! This is not cringe at all baby! I admire cheesy romantic headcanons/ imagines like this. My likes and drafts are filled with fluffs or angst to fluff🤧. I’m sorry this is a tad bit delinquent And thank you for reading my work that means a lot I’ve been exploring a lot of vocabulary words to scrutinize my writing, this may be a long one I apologize I got too into it.

The marvels of what a year could do. From going through a hurricane of songster roaring at each other, the strikes of austere comments leading up to the thunderstorm of a anguish. Your ex-fiancé cheated on, with considerable women before you found out. The ring on your finger was nothing but a reflector and leverage for him, he wanted to appear a saint to the kingdom, but a devil in the moonlight. Apologizing and buttering you up like a slice of bread, didn’t make you dawdle.

Your lucidity and rectitude were more caliber than staying, so you moved out of your shared apartment a week later, during the rotation of moving haphazardly you’ve incoherent yourself from the boys' realm, nor have your inner circle heard of you. You dissipated from the earth. And if you had to be adequate, you relished it that way, what was anyone overlooking anyways? but you were silently asking for space, you would give your leg for it.

Zion stirring in disgruntle, pushing profanities in between his gritted teeth. Don’t get mistaken he wasn’t mad you were ignoring him, just by the way your handling things on your own, he knew it had to be really fucked up if you couldn’t come to him. The veins crawling up his proffered hands outstretched for the keys. The boys jumping up in fear he may do something reckless, Brandon putting his hand in front of the boys to halt them. “Listen—even if we stop him, say anything to him or follow him, he will remotely do exactly what you think he’s going to do, you know how much he cares about (y/n), all we can do is have faith in him” Brandon confirms, but deep inside that rickety heart of his fear was kicking his ass too. They all discern Zion, once the peak of anger overflows his eyes only opines vermilion.

Zion parked in the lot, not noticing your car ghosting its rightful place. His mind was set on figuring what was wrong with you. Climbing the flight of stairs, he knocks on your door, his foot tapping the pallid base. When the door swung open it was ex-fiance, their eyes met in pique just burning to throw punches and a few sparks of curse words. “What do you want?” Your ex tempts him.

For your sake, Zion never snapped in front of him the way he should’ve. “Not you that’s for sure” commenting on his current attire, which was shirtless and some sweatpants. “Where’s (y/n)?” He queries, a scruffy ‘tsk’ pass through his lips. “Not here, that bitch moved out after she broke up with me”

Zion looked at his watch the time read 9:35 pm. “Cool, all I need is nine minutes of your time” Zion tranquility explains to him. Swinging and docking him in the throat; the girl that was staying with him bolting into the living room finding the source of the thump. She screams for Zion to get off him, after give or take six punches, Zion walks away not giving him or her the slightest sight. “If I catch you or her around y/n, better make sure you have good health care insurance and dental”

The next day he waited outside your classroom leaning his foot up against the wall; few girls noticed him but that wasn’t on his mind. When your silhouette appeared, he excused himself in a rush to catch you. “Pretty rich seeing a smile from a ghost” your heart dropped; the voice you were scared to dump your problems on.

What lie could you conjure? “Hey Zion” you breathe, turning in his direction. “That’s my fault I’m sorry, dealing with classes and moving I lost track of time” which was half correct, but it wasn’t the biggest factor. Zion tilted his head, signature hand in hoodie pocket. Closing your eyes with a heavy sigh, you knew he didn’t believe you nor did he want to push you. “Zion—“ he groped your wrist pulling you to the parking lot, he leaned on his car's hood without saying a drop of words, he wants for you to stream all your worries.

“Well, that’s half the reason. Okay, I didn't mean to go completely ghost, life just wasn't easy for me lately, I didn't want to add more dead weight to your shoulder. Sorry” zion scoffs pushing himself away from the car with no hands. But they followed the path to your jawline. ”burden on my shoulder or not, they're made for you to cry on. Stop going through things on your own alright?, as long as I'm here you don't have to sink”

Ever since you and zion grew close, a year later and he still gazes at you like a diamond. Even after a year, the astonishment gets the better of you. The insecurities start raging in, fighting in a war of love and hate. Your phone was laid upon the cherry wooden table, the vibrations frightening you, the goosebumps crawling up your arms. The name it read was “Love🤍”

“Hello?” You answer still shaken up; Zion lets out a soft scoff that vibrates through your body “you’re still in bed mamas? you should be awake beautiful” rubbing your eyes slightly, the clock flashed the numbers ‘ 2:30 pm’ your groan only makes him smile bigger.

“Goddamn I love you, look how ravishing you are in the morning” Zion's eyes shimmering in adoration. Those eyes always reflected his emotions, deep down you knew Zion loved you wholeheartedly, but the fear of having something good taken from you. That is what kept you hesitant. “No, I don’t stop lying” you stroke his ego.

“Me? Lie? Babygirl, I can’t and won’t lie to you stop playing” Zion said in a low octave, your stomach stirred in feelings “do me a favor baby” “Which is?” You reply, Zion looks over on his nightstand smiling. “Why are you smiling? Are you being mischievous again?”

“Who me? Nah” Zion shrugs off. The ringing of the doorbell distracted you from his spreading grin “answer that” sighing you walk towards the door, propping your phone on the counter, Zion moans out loud. “Maybe I should’ve slept over last night! Who told you to look that good mamas?” Ignoring his flirty antics you open the door, glimpsing at fresh bouquets of your favorite flower and a self-care basket. “Baby!!!” You screech, Zion simpers at the brightest smile on your face. The sun doesn’t shine as bright as you did at the moment.

“Why?, why are you so loving to me” you start to happy cry “Nah baby none of that, I love you too damn much for you to self-deprecate” Zion shuts your negativity down. Flipping the card over you read the message. ‘You thought I’d forget the day you changed my life? I’ve always loved you and I’ll continue to love you, but it’s not your love that I adore the most, it’s those gorgeous eyes that look back at me. Like I’m some type of angel when we all know that’s you, it’s the way you’re compassionate about others, I love your free spirit baby you’re a dove to me, even though I get under your nerves, I wouldn’t want anyone else to deal with me or my problems happy one year’

You look up at Zion, his eyes were already glossing by admiring your figure. Oh, how you wish jumping through a screen wasn’t just a cartoon thing. “Fuck” you whisper covering your face “angel, you are beautiful” Zion reminds you “stop!!! I’m in my feelings!!” You Jokingly spat at him. “What you wanna do for our anniversary it’s up to you” Zion smiles.

“Can we go to a petting zoo then get tacos?” Your eyes sparkling as your lips turn into a pout, Zion looking up towards the ceiling as his Adam’s apple points at the camera. “Yes, how could I say no” twenty minutes later Zion was at your house, complimenting you the whole car ride. Protectively and passionately rubbing circles on your knees being careful not to raise his hand any further.

“Look! Rabbits” Zion follows your finger pulling you in that direction, you sit on the bench holding the rabbit in your lap feeding it the food. Zion takes pictures of you getting the best angles, falling in love with your beauty, even more, the way the golden light bounced off your skin. It made him think twice if you were real or just a lucid dream. Feeding the monkeys were the best part, they hugged you and Zion; even gave you two kisses. The giraffes were the most exciting to you, joking to your boyfriend “wow look something taller than you”. Walking into a blue-lit aquarium a class of fish surrounded the both of you. Your finger softly touching the fish that was pressed against the glass, it followed your every move. Never realizing Zion detached his hand from yours, it hasn’t hit you until a ring was slid on your finger.

“Not an engagement ring, but soon don’t worry this is a promise ring, and I promise that you’ll feel nothing but comfort and love with me” his fingers gripped into your waist “with a side of pleasure too” you smack his shoulder while smiling ear for ear. “You promise?” “Of course I do, I wholeheartedly promise, I will never hurt or disrespect you baby, you mean too much to me”

Once you were back to the apartment your body couldn’t even make it to the bed, but Zion helped you to the bathroom. To wash off the dirt and sweat, even helped you with your skin routine. His fingers padding over every inch of your back, your soft snores in the crook of his neck. “I’m so glad to be the girlfriend of your dreams” you whisper “oh lord she’s finally figured it out!!” Zion pushes your buttons “should I send you back home?” You test him, “you wouldn’t dare, you need me tonight” Zion teases his swollen lips attacking your neck upwards your jawline, a low gruffly growl trickles down your spine.

“So is this the side of pleasure?” You press your teeth into your lower lip “if that’s what you want”

“Well, you did make a promise” wasting no time Zion straddles you, your legs wrapped around his waist, giggling at how he fumbled to remove his shirt.

“You damn right I made a promise, and I’ll show you how serious this promise is” Zion kisses up your stomach “I love you”

Your hands cupping his jaw the breathing becoming erratic “I love you too”

[mariekavanagh]

one thing i love about your stories is that you don’t make the Black family opine the typical crazy abusive family who have no feelings. you explore them as humans and people with period thoughts in the 19th century vibe.

with that I have a doubt about what do you think about Marius Black? what could have happened to him in your opinion and in your stories? I am very curious about that, in the relationship of Marius with his parents and his brothers. the impact of it being a squib.

somehow, I like to imagine Cassiopeia, Marius and Alphard as lgbt

and forgive my grammatical errors, english is not my native language lol

Thank you, I’m glad you enjoy my writing :) 

I’ll be honest, I’ve not given much thought  to Marius Black or in fact to the Black family’s treatment of squibs in general. Of course, we know that they are “disowned” from their blacked-out entries on the family tree, but we don’t know from canon precisely what happened to them. 

There would be no way of knowing if the child was a squib or not until they were well into childhood, ruling out the “abandoned baby on the orphanage doorstep” approach. But I don’t like the much darker theories of the Blacks downright killing their squib members or anything similar of the sort. 

The best theory I can think of is the idea that the child is secretly slipped some sort of sleeping potion, has their memory wiped, and they are left outside an orphanage to be taken in and raised as a muggle. Perhaps siblings could have their memories altered to remove the child from their minds to avoid awkward questions until they’re old enough to be told and to “understand” why their brother or sister had to go. It seems like the tidiest, least fussy method to me, and as we all know, the Blacks don’t like to cause a scene. 

It’s very interesting, however, to think of how the child’s parents would react to this. For the mother in particular, would she really be willing to just give up her child forever because of their lack of magical powers? Even for someone raised with the family’s strict pureblood values in mind, never mind someone from another, perhaps slightly more tolerant family, who simply married into the Blacks, a maternal instinct is a strong thing that I doubt could be easily broken with the reasoning of “He has no magic, rules are rules, he has to go”. 

Please excuse me whilst I now take this thought and turn it into a daydreamed story plot of a desperate Black mother hatching a plot to run away with her squib child (perhaps Marius? Or just an OC addition to the fam maybe?) before he can be taken from her. A gripping drama. 

As for your suggestion of various Blacks being LGBT+ - why not? Characters are there to do with as you wish. I’ve heard many people use this as the reasoning behind various Black outcasts being distanced by or having left the family. I don’t really have much opinion on that matter myself, to be honest. 

[drawlfoy]

Fixed

masterlist

request guidelines

requests are open as usualllll

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

request: yes! i’m combining 2 slytherin!reader requests because they’re rather similar and i feel weird putting two nearly identical ones out, but i swear the storylines aren’t altered.

summary: draco has a teasing relationship with the reader--they playfully argue and go back and forth but never acknowledge the fact that there may be something more. draco notices her pulling back and becoming more reserved. he follows her out of the dining hall one day to find her having a breakdown over a dark secret.

warnings: breakdown (and not the dancing kind), if the summary didn’t already explain that. swearing and potentially suggestive argumentation. also ooc draco and i say “fuck you” to canon in this one

a/n: this is the first time i’m merged two requests together, so i’m feeling a little wacky but i hope it turns out to what you guys wanted! i’m so so lucky to have readers. i’d love any comments that you may have on my work, even if they’re constructive criticism!

music recs: peach pit is what comes to mind but i’m listening to scary stories as i write this lol because i live on the edgeeeeeee

word count: 2,924

Y/N was an organized girl, no doubt about it. So organized, in fact, that she never lost anything, and she most certainly never lost track of her wand.

So when she noticed in Charms that her wand was not stowed away in her cloak pocket, she immediately knew who did it.

Without even as much as a hello, Y/N strode over to her “friend” and fellow house member Draco Malfoy and shoved her hand into his pocket, wiggling it around.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Draco had started at the sudden sensation, but once he smelled the perfume of the witch behind him, he knew exactly who it was, not bothering to give her much of a reaction.

Y/N fished around his pockets for a bit before grabbing his shoulder and yanking him around.

“Where is my wand, Draco? I know you have it.”

He smirked evilly down at her, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you do!” She pulled him towards her by his green and silver tie, trying to look as menacing as possible. “I swear to god, Draco, I’m gonna hex you into oblivion if you don’t give it back.”

“With what wand?” He laughed. “And let’s be real here, Y/N, you wouldn’t anyways. You love me too much.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew red at the suggestion.

“As if, Draco! Give me my wand back, or I’ll throttle you with my bare hands!”

“Ooh, kinky.” 

She let go of his tie, shoving him away. Who was he to suggest these things to her? He’d never been interested as long as she could remember--no matter how many subtle hints she’d dropped, he remained oblivious, instead choosing Pansy’s incessant fawning.

Pretending like it didn’t hurt when he was ignoring her was easy. Pretending it didn’t hurt when he was inches away from her face and fake flirting with her was a whole other deal. 

“Give me my wand, you git,” she commanded, holding her hand out. Perhaps if she was animated with her hands, he wouldn’t notice her blush. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, one side of his lip rising along with it. 

“Ask nicely.”

“May I please have my wand back?” she spat, each word filling her mouth with venom.

“We could work on your tone a tad, but I guess I might as well,” he responded, nonchalant and ignorant of the searing look she sent him. Digging through his satchel, he retrieved her wand, pressing it into her hand.

Y/N sent him a syrupy sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In the corner of her vision, she could see Pansy watching her with a sour look on her face.

She was never one to disappoint an audience.

“Thank you, Draco,” she cooed, taking a complete 180 from her previous demeanor. Throwing all caution to the wind, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. 

When she settled back down to her usual height, she noticed that his eyebrow was still arched, but his evil look was replaced with one of inquisitiveness. 

“I knew you were in love with me,” he crooned.

“No, I’m just a big fan of charity work,” she shot back, spinning around and walking back to her desk.

It was, after all, just another Tuesday.

♥♥♥♥

“Are you still hopelessly obsessed with Draco?”

“Huh?” Y/N diverting her attention from her studies to what her roommate, Millicent, had just asked her. “Sorry, I was deep in a passage and didn’t catch that.”

Millicent rolled her eyes, crossing her legs on her bed. 

“I asked, are you still into Draco? I remember you talking about him in 4th year when we were getting dates for the Yule Ball arranged.” 

“Oh.” Y/N let her eyes fall back onto her textbook. “I don’t know, Mills. I think he’s kind of an arse. He totally knew that I was into him and asked Pansy instead.” 

Millicent chuckled sourly at that.

“Yeah, he was kind of immature back then,” she offered, resting her chin in her hand. “But, I don’t know, don’t you think that you guys have chemistry?”

Y/N thought for a few moments.

“I can’t say,” she responded. “But chemistry doesn’t really mean anything if they don’t care about you, you know? I think he messes with me just so he can feel like I’m still on the hook.”

“How do you know that?” 

“How do I know that he’s just using me?” Y/N rolled her quill over in her hands a few times. “I can’t say for sure, but I’m normally good at reading these situations and I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“So you’re saying that you do have hopes that he’s interested?” Y/N didn’t have to turn to know that her roommate was plotting. 

“I’m saying that I really don’t have time to be worrying about it right now,” Y/N opined. 

Before she knew it, a hand was taking her quill out of her hand and closing her textbook.

“Hey! You can’t--”

“It’s been too long, Y/N,” Millicent whined. “We need to have a good gossip, and now that midterms are over, we can catch up. Please?”

Y/N couldn’t help a smile from creeping into her stony expression. While she had had reservations about her roommate at first, she soon learned that they brought the best out in each other.

“Okay, okay, but I’m not making any rash decisions, alright?”

“And when would I ever let you do that anyways?”

They both erupted in giggles while Y/N allowed her friend to pull her onto the bed.

“So, for starters,” Millicent began. “I heard that Draco and Pansy are going through a rough patch right now.” 

“And who did you hear that from?”

“Irrelevant. But if you care, Blaise, and Theo confirmed it as well. And I would’ve found out without their help...they’re acting weird. Pansy looks like she’s ready to slit his throat at a moment’s notice, if you haven’t been paying any attention for the past 4 hours.”

Y/N laughed nervously. Of course she had noticed...but she didn’t want anyone to realize how much she actually cared.

“Yikes, I hope they figure that out. Their parents are going to be mad if they break up, right?”

“No, probably not. His parents really want him to end up with a Greengrass...something about settling a deal from a few generations ago.”

“Oh.” Y/N swallowed any other hope that she had left. “That sucks for Pansy. I know how much she likes him.”

Millicent paused for a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been feeling bad as well,” she said, her tone softening. “I’ve noticed the pain in your eyes whenever you see them together.”

“And it doesn’t help when he seeks me out to mess with me!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I try so, so hard to forget about him and pretend like he doesn’t matter to me, but he finds all of these ways to keep butting back into my life and it always works...”

Her roommate began rubbing her back, allowing the few tears being shed to fall in peace. 

“You’re worth so much, Y/N,” she told her firmly. “And unless I’m wrong, which we know is impossible, I think he kind of likes you too.”

“I don’t think you understand, though,” Y/N whispered. “Why would I ever want to be with someone who thinks of me as a second choice?”

Millicent was silent for a few breaths.

“Yeah. Maybe his parents pushed him to date her, though? Maybe he has a good excuse?”

“I don’t know, Mills. I’m just not going to think about it anymore, alright?”

♥♥♥♥

Draco was sitting across the breakfast table from Y/N, watching her sip her tea, waiting for the moment to throw another comment her way. 

The screech of owls interrupted his thought process, signaling that the morning post had arrived. A snowy owl landed gracefully next to Y/N’s plate, bearing a letter with a red wax seal on the back.

She shook herself out of her daydreams--she had been up late the night before cramming for an exam and had burnt through an entire candle. Stroking her owl, she whispered a genuine thank you and instructed it to fly on home.

Y/N picked up the letter, fingering the parchment. It was clearly from her parents--the wax seal bore the mark of her family’s crest. Confused, she ripped open the envelope and began skimming the letter.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Her vision began to blur as she folded the parchment up, shoving it back into her pocket. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s going--”

Before Draco could finish his sentence, she was already halfway down the aisle, moving quickly to the exit. He watched her go, wishing that he could follow but knowing that it wasn’t a good idea with the tension regarding Pansy.

It was high time to break up with her anyways--no reason to keep up appearances when he didn’t desire her.

♥♥♥♥

As the week went by, Draco noticed more and more changes in Y/N’s demeanor. She was eating less and spacing out more. Her skirt was wrinkled on Friday, something that rarely ever happened, and she was no longer sending him bitter remarks in response to his flirty ones. On Saturday, she stayed in her dorm instead of joining her friends for a day in Hogsmeade, something he had never seen her miss before.

Something was clearly wrong with Y/N, and for some reason, this twisted something in his chest more than breaking up with Pansy did. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her messing around in the common room, either. It was unnerving, really. The witch had no business worrying him like that.

So, when he passed by her during a free period and saw her walking ahead of him, he made the executive decision to finally do something.

“Y/N!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound. “Y/N, wait!”

She halted, turning around slowly. When she saw who had called her name, she stiffened and made to continue on her path. 

Draco, anticipating such a reaction, had already begun to jog towards her, lightly pushing past the rest of the students going the same direction.

“Y/N! Please, I need to talk to you!”

 She picked up the pace, but Draco’s long legs caught up to her as he slipped a hand into the crook of her arm, startling her.

“What do you wa--”

“Can I please talk to you? It’ll just take a second. I promise.”

Her expression was unreadable, but he could tell that she was considering her options. 

“Fine,” she finally said. “What is it?”

“Not here,” Draco quickly said. “Somewhere private. The common room, maybe?” 

“If you wanted to off me, I doubt anyone would notice if you did it right here,” Y/N said, waving her hand dismissively. “But if you would really like to talk there, then I guess I’ll comply.”

Without another word, Draco led her down to the dungeons, keeping his hand tucked in her arm, not trusting her to stick by him. It felt strange--normally he was the one holding his arm out, but then again, this entire situation was out of character for him. 

Once they had reached the common room, Draco waved his wand and lit the fire, sitting down in front of the couch to watch the green flames lick the stone.

“Sit,” he instructed, patting the space on the couch next to him. 

Surprisingly, Y/N did as she was told, folding her legs up on the couch and sending Draco a death stare.

“Get on with it.”

“I just...I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” Draco faltered. Playing therapist was not something he had experience with. “I’ve noticed you acting strange since you got that letter at breakfast and it’s making me worry. Can you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it and we can be normal again?”

Y/N was silent for a while.

“You can’t fix this. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me, Y/N, please.”

Silence again...except for something else. Draco stole a glance at Y/N and was stunned to see the firelight illuminate tears rolling down her face. 

“Oh, no, Y/N, what’s wrong?” 

The question only made her gasps for air louder as Y/N curled herself into a ball.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “You should go. You can come back later when I’m calmer, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Draco murmured, bringing up a hand to steady her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it better, alright?”

“My parents are forcing me into an arranged marriage,” she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. “He goes to Durmstrang. I hate him. They offered my hand in marriage because they want his father to be more amiable to mine in this business deal, and since I’ve never been in a relationship, they think it’s the only chance I have anyways at finding a life partner.”

The sobs had stopped. Her tears fell silently now, staining the whites of her sleeves.

Draco himself had to process the information. Y/N, married to someone else? No, he never could’ve imagined that.

Without anything particularly useful to say, Draco just opened his arms.

“C’mere,” he awkwardly mumbled. 

Y/N studied him for a few seconds.

“I’m going to get snot on your shirt.”

“I don’t care.” 

With that settled, Y/N released her knees from her hold, instead crawling into his lap. He stroked her hair as she wept into his shirt and clung to him.

Oh, how this was embarrassing for her. She supposed that there was a reason why her parents were so desperate to accept an offer for her hand. 

Draco suddenly stopped, moving his hands to tap her shoulder.

“Y/N,” he began, “Would they make you marry him if you were already in a relationship?”

She sat up, blowing her nose into her handkerchief before answering.

“No, probably not. Why?”

“Well...” He pondered for a second, wondering if he was really going to be brave enough to say what he wanted to. “What if I was in the picture? They wouldn’t care to pass you off to some random Durmstrang boy if you had a Malfoy instead, right?”

Y/N stared at him.

“Er... probably not. That’s nice wishful thinking there, Draco.”

“I’m being serious!” He wasn’t expecting it to go this direction. 

“How do I know that you’re not joking?” she queried, scootching further away from him and trying to ignore the pain that flashed across his eyes.

“I let you cry all over my dress shirt,” he reminded her, motioning to the stains on his chest. “Do you think I’d do that for any girl?” 

Y/N just shrugged, hiccuping once before she stuffed her handkerchief back into her pocket. 

“I wouldn’t.” Draco answered his own question, reaching up to gingerly brush her hair out of her eyes. “I know it must be weird seeing me with Pansy.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even think about that. My disbelief was due to the fact that you’ve never been interested.”

Draco flinched. 

“I don’t think you’re completely right there,” he said, his hand pausing to cup her face. 

“Are you forgetting the Yule Ball ordeal? How you knew how much I liked you but you still went with Pansy instead?”

“You don’t understand,” he responded hastily. “I didn’t know--I was 14 and an idiot. I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not and I knew that she did, so I wasn’t afraid.”

“And so you dated her for another 2 years?” Y/N answered in disbelief, seemingly forgetting the fact that she had just been crying her eyes out.

“At first it was to make you jealous,” Draco explained. “But then Pansy’s parents began to expect a lot out of us, and I was waiting for the right time to break it off, and it just didn’t....ever come around.”

Draco jumped as Y/N smacked his shoulder.

“You’re an idiot,” she snapped. 

“I know.” Draco gulped. “And I’m sorry about that, Y/N, I really am. Let me make it up to you. Owl your parents and tell them that you had forgotten to mention that you’re already in a serious relationship with me.”

He curled an arm around her waist, highlighting the fact that while she wasn’t lying on his chest, she was still nestled into him.

“Under one condition,” Y/N told him, an elvish glint in her eyes.

“Yes?” He reached up his free hand to boop the tip of her nose.

“What was that?!” Y/N jerked her face away from his.

Draco smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You were saying?”

Her mouth was parted slightly in confusion as her brain tried to recall what she was about to say.

“I--just don’t be a pill, Draco, alright?”

“C’mon now, when have I ever been one?” He smirked down at her, wearing the expression that he adopted whenever they teased each other in class.

Y/N was trying her hardest to stay composed, but a genuine smile fought its way onto her face. It only widened when Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Pulling away, he uttered the words that would lead to her lightly smacking him on the shoulder again:

“I told you I could fix it.”

final a/n: kindaaaaaaa mad that i took on this request at this point because i totally could’ve turned this into a series where the reader and draco don’t admit feelings this early and instead decide to “fake date” so both parents would be happy but i have a lifeeeee grossssss

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday Reissue: The Heart Attack

Note: This is a repost of an older Stay Golden Sunday that had to be redone for housekeeping reasons.

Sophia becomes very ill one night and is convinced she’s going to die. The Girls confront the idea of mortality.

Picture It…

The Girls bid farewell to their guests as a storm rages outside. They praise Sophia for the meal she cooked for everyone, and Blanche says it was even better than the food she ate in Italy. The Girls tell Sophia to take a load off in the living room. They start the dishes in the kitchen, while Rose talks about her family’s Scandinavian cooking.

Back in the living room, Sophia says she’s got a “bubble” of pressure in her chest. Rose thinks it might be gas, but Dorothy says her mother isn’t looking so good. Blanche goes to call the doctor. Sophia clutches her chest as the bubble turns to pain. Dorothy lays her down, while Sophia worries she could be having a heart attack. Blanche says the doctor was out, so she called the paramedics.

DOROTHY: Ma, you know, you don’t look good. SOPHIA: I’m short and I’m old. What did you expect, Princess Di?

The two discuss their family’s deaths – which include a fall from a donkey and misfiring a gun while taking out the garbage – to rule out the possibility of heart disease. Blanche and Rose talk about how death should come without pain or illness, getting sidetracked until Dorothy shuts them up. They go to make coffee, while Sophia begins to worry she’ll die. She starts giving Dorothy instructions on what to do after she’s dead, and says Dorothy was always her favorite, even if she never showed it.

In the kitchen, Rose and Blanche discuss death. Rose says her family members live to their 90s and 100s, which Blanche attributes to the Minnesota cold slowing down the aging process. They also discuss cremation vs burial: Rose wants to be buried with all her sentimental items, while Blanche wants to be buried in Arlington Cemetery because it’s full of men. Sophia tells Dorothy she loves her. When Rose and Blanche return with the coffee, she thanks them for keeping her company. She decides to rest while Blanche goes to call the paramedics again.

BLANCHE: Do you want to be buried or cremated? ROSE: Neither! BLANCHE: What do you want to be, flushed down the toilet like a goldfish?

Rose tells Dorothy it’s probably not a heart attack, as she’s seen one and they’re bigger. She recounts Charlie’s heart attack to Dorothy, which happened while they were making love (she told Arnie this back in Episode 3, but this is the first time she’s told one of the other Girls). She dressed him before emergency services arrived, and his last words were that he loved her. Blanche returns and says the paramedics are held up by the storm, and they’ll just have to wait… and pray, as Rose adds.

The Girls crowd Sophia, who wakes up and tells them she had a near-death experience and saw Heaven. She describes seeing her husband and asks Dorothy to get her rosary. Blanche’s main interest is if there are lots of men in Heaven (which… why wouldn’t there be?), and eventually goes to help Dorothy. Left alone with Sophia, Rose bugs the crap out of her by recounting farm stories.

BLANCHE: What about men? Are there lots of men in Heaven? ROSE: Oh Blanche, come on! BLANCHE: Well you asked her about God and Jesus!

In Sophia’s room, Dorothy’s going through Sophia’s things, looking for the rosary. She tells Blanche that she’s not ready for Sophia to die, and that she’ll still feel like an orphan at her age. She breaks down in tears at the thought, and Blanche comforts her by saying Blanche and Rose are her family too, and they’re there for her.

In comes Dr. Harris, presumably Elliott’s replacement as their house-call doctor. He inspects Sophia and finds her side is sensitive, so he asks her what she ate recently. The girls list a truly disgusting amount of food, including scungilli, fried mozzarella, and two boxes of Milk Duds. Dr. Harris says it’s not a heart attack, but more likely a gallbladder attack from overeating. Sophia is instantly relieved, but takes back what she said about Dorothy being her favorite now that she’s not dying.

Later that evening, the Girls minus Sophia (who’s presumably resting) talk about mortality in the kitchen. They question the reason they worry about things like dieting when they’re going to die eventually – a thinly veiled excuse to eat some chocolate cake and ice cream. They do eventually get turned off of the dessert when they realize that, while they are going to die eventually, they’ll feel the negative effects of overeating immediately, like Sophia did. They decide to go out for a walk (one hopes the storm is not still raging), and Blanche brings it back around to her favorite topic:

BLANCHE: Let’s go for a walk. ROSE: Right, burn it off! DOROTHY: Are you kidding? After what we ate, we’d have to walk to Canada. BLANCHE: Oh, Mounties! I love Canadian men!

“You couldn’t say ‘belch?’ What is it, a Viking curse?”

This is the first episode that centers around Sophia, and given the multiple references to her age and health in the preceding nine episodes, it’s fitting that it’s about a health scare. Estelle Getty, who has mostly played comic relief up to this point in the series, gets her shot at carrying the dramatic half of an episode – and she definitely delivers.

To be a little real with you, this episode has been hard for me to watch the last few years, ever since my mother died. She was the one who introduced me to Golden Girls, and episodes like this hurt both because I know now she and I will never have that Dorothy-and-Sophia rapport in old age like I always assumed – my mom was not even 60 when she died – and because I was basically in Dorothy’s position at the time. If I could have chosen a quote to describe the months of my life after my mother died, it’d probably be this one:

DOROTHY: It doesn’t matter. You lose a parent, you might as well be six. It’s scary. And it pushes you right up to the head of the line.

I appreciate that, when confronted with the possibility that she might die, Sophia’s not accepting or serene even though she’s very old. I think there’s a perception that, when you get old, you just have to accept that you might die soon and be okay with it because you’ve “lived a full life” or some such nonsense. Instead, Sophia outright says “I’m not ready” and that she’d take even one more day of life.

I leave it to other shows to try and teach people to accept death with grace. I prefer Golden Girls’s way, which is to say “Screw that,” and portray the octogenarian matriarch as not wanting to die. There’s something very real in Sophia saying she never really thought she would die.

SOPHIA: 80 years old, and it would come as a complete surprise.

There’s quite a bit of real-world backstory to this one, too. Originally, it was intended to be broadcast live, which is why it’s the first episode since the pilot to take place entirely within the confines of the Girls’ home. According to Golden Girls Forever (quite a treasure trove), NBC had done a live episode of Gimme a Break and attempted to replicate its success with a night of live shows, ostensibly to promote Saturday Night Live. Golden Girls would have been one of about five shows to air its episodes live.

At first all the other shows were onboard, but then showrunners protested the final offering of the night, a detective show called Hunter, couldn’t be filmed live. So the live plan was scrapped. Director Jim Drake remembered it as being for the best, since the actresses weren’t really equipped to do the show in a single live, continuous taping. While their shows were filmed in front of a live studio audience, they still had the option of doing multiple takes. Somewhat relevant, but here’s a video of Golden Girls bloopers:

The other real-world issue that influenced the filming of this episode was one that also cast a pall over the previous episode – the death of Bea Arthur’s and Betty White’s mothers. But while it seemed to throw off the chemistry of the previous episode to a certain extent, if anything it helps this one. There are differing accounts as to whether Rose’s monologue about Charlie’s death was drawn from the deaths of White’s mother or her husband, Allen Ludden. I suspect it’s a combination of both, but you can see she’s genuinely crying while talking about it.

My only real criticism of this episode is that the final scene doesn’t really seem like it’s attached the rest of the story. The Girls talk about their own mortality, and how the fact of dying makes things seem trivial. They don’t even mention Sophia, despite the rest of the episode revolving around her. It feels like a discussion they might have after a friend died – or, more accurately, a scene inserted by a writer who wanted to opine about death for five minutes.

That’s not even mentioning the fact that the way the Girls behave in this scene is very at odds with the rest of the episode. It’s just strange to me that they’d come to the conclusion that, since they’re going to die, they might as well gorge themselves on rich food, when doing so is the exact reason Sophia had a gallbladder attack – and they just heard a doctor tell her that.

Regardless, this is another great Susan Harris episode, and the first episode that puts Sophia front and center. While it’s a bit melancholy there are enough jokes interspersed throughout to keep it from being a downer.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰 (four cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

The Girls crowd around a sleeping Sophia (see the image at the top of the article), and she wakes with a shout, scaring them all. When Dorothy asks her what’s wrong, she says:

SOPHIA: What? You’re sitting on top of me. I open my eyes, I see pores like that, I think I’m on the moon!

[thelibranarchives]

For @giucorreias Flufftober 2020 Day 3 prompt- Sunshine

'You've mellowed, Draco,' Pansy opined, taking a drag from the joint before passing it to Millie on her left. 'The Gryffindors have done their number on you.'

Draco Malfoy snorted. 'Nope,' he denied.

Blaise laughed, slapping his thigh. 'This,' he said in between bouts of laughter, 'is exactly what she meant. Normally, a stinging hex would have been your answer.'

'On the contrary,' Daphne said, picking the cigarette out of Millie's mouth. 'If the Gryffindors have had any influence on him, he would have physically tackled you both.'

'That's more like it,' Draco nodded.

Nobody said anything for a while. They were enjoying a very rare, much awaited and incredibly precious Slytherin-only gathering in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest. It had been almost impossible to not have some Gryffindor hanging off their shoulders for two months now what with the lions accompanying them everywhere from showers to classes, but that day, Granger had Arithmancy for her afternoon class. Longbottom had volunteered to help Prof. Sprout weed out the greenhouses and Weasley and Potter had gone to Diagon to the joke shop. Ginevra and Lovegood were at the quidditch trials, which left the Slytherins with a golden opportunity.

Unlike rumours and speculations, the Forbidden Forest, had a cheerful air about it, though slightly dark with the thick canopy. The five of them sat in a circle under a bubble of protective charms, sharing a joint and blowing out smoky rings, or as in Pansy's case, trying to. An idle, and clearly out of place bird, was humming a sweet tune. There was the occasional rustling of leaves and the half growl and half bark of some as yet unencountered forest animal but Draco was relaxed.

Draco and Potter's dynamic had undoubtedly changed ever since Potter got that dragon lily tattoo on Halloween, even though Potter's behaviour towards him didn't. He still went to classes with Draco and sat next to him, partnering him in Charms, Potions and DADA. No one had mentioned anything about the tattoo in the two weeks since and Draco wasn't a fool to harbour hope that they didn't understand its significance too. He wasn't going to talk about it for as long as he could.

'Muggles celebrate Thanksgiving in November,' Blaise said, inhaling deeply. 'On the fourth Thursday, to be exact.'

'What is it for?' Millie's tone was curious.

'To be grateful to the good things or people that happened to them that year? Mother says Muggles cherish it a lot.'

'How's Maine? Is it suiting her?' Pansy asked.

'She says that's where she's going to settle down but that is what she said of Milan too so I wouldn't bet on it.'

Daphne's brows were furrowed. 'Why are you telling us about this Thanksgiving?' That girl was quick and sharp, no matter how clueless she sometimes acted to be.

'Well,' Blaise said, licking his lips, 'we should thank them too, don't you think?'

It had been easy for Draco to get a first edition copy of Rare Charms and Unique Spells for Granger, a chocolate frog card made in honour of Fred Weasley for Weasley and his sister and an assorted collection of Celestina Warbeck's classics for Longbottom, who loved them and transferred some of his admiration for her onto Blaise as well.

Pansy, Daphne and Millie had got some trinkets, rings and other accessories for all the girls while Blaise imported an Italian Bellflower plant for Neville. The purchases were all made through owl-post, from stores suggested by Narcissa Malfoy, under the name of Madame Zabini.

Draco curiously couldn't think of the best gift to Potter, though Potter was the one he knew the best out of everyone else. He decided he would ask Potter what he wanted but as the days passed, either Draco or Potter found themselves otherwise busy, to say more than "hey" to each other.

Draco sighed and shrugged. There was nothing he could do.

Thanksgiving dawned on them, abnormally cold and cloudy. Draco woke up late from a fitful sleep and didn't even have time to overthink if the atmosphere outside was setting the tone to what was to unfold that day.

Daphne had done that for him, however, whining every possible minute she could about how potentially disastrous the others could think their gifts were. Pansy and Blaise, in their attempts to find courage in liquor since they seemed to lack it in themselves, added to it after stumbling into the common room drunk, half an hour later than the time they had fixed.

Even then, Draco was glad when they had all assembled.

'So,' he began, fidgeting with his shirt, 'Blaise told us, technically it was Blaise's mother, that muggles celebrate Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November and well,' he gulped, ' well,' he licked his lips, 'we just..'

'Here are the gifts, bitches!' Pansy screamed, wand shooting confetti into the air as she twirled, tripped and fell over the neatly wrapped presents. 'Oops,' she said, grinning up at them with a dazed look in her eyes.

The stress of worrying his brains over the small surprise that lit up the faces of everyone present, finally melted away the stress beneath his skin. Draco wasn't even aware that he was beaming until Blaise knocked him on the shoulder, sloshed and swaying.

'You've become a sap, Draco,' he slurred.

'And you, a Hufflepuff,' Draco retorted, grinning wider, because yes, this group of unlikely people made each other smile to the maximum.

'I don't want to see all of your teeth, Draco.'

'I don't want to see you bouncing like a toddler either.'

'I'm in full control of myself, thanks.'

Draco had to give him a once over then. 'Yes, I can see that.'

'Are you two arguing over who is better at pretending to be the least affected by our reaction?' Lovegood's sweet voice wafted from behind them followed, an instant later, by her floral perfume and then a smacking kiss to their cheeks.

Weasley and his sister came up to them next, eyes shimmering. They held up Fred's chocolate frog card that read "one half of the only two who managed to set off fireworks in the Great Hall and literally got away with it." That had been Draco's personal addition. He would never forget Umbridge's horror at that.

'This,' Weasley choked.

'Means a lot,' Ginevra said, barely keeping it together. 'Excuse me,' she whispered and then she was exiting the common room, Draco's eyes trained on her till the door shut behind her.

When he turned back, he found Potter staring at him and he blushed, remembering that he hadn't got anything for him.

Potter held up the broom polish from Blaise and a few shirts from the girls as if to ask, 'you?'

'I didn't know what to get for you,' Draco mumbled, rocking on his heels. Behind Potter he spotted a radiant Granger hugging Weasley and talking his ear off about the book in her hand.

'If-' Draco said, glancing back at Potter, 'tell me what you want and I'll get it. For you.'

'Anything?' Potter asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

'Yes, anything.' Draco didn't know how his voice sounded so confident.

'Well,' Potter smirked, 'I want to see the sun, make the clouds go away.'

Draco thought for a while and smiled back. 'Be ready, then.'

Next morning found them both racing through the sky on their brooms at four am.

'Is this revenge, Malfoy?' Potter shouted when they landed on the hill, wet and shivering from the rain falling at Hogwarts.

'Why, scared Potter?' He called back.

'You wish!'

They sat next to each other on a boulder, Draco making them face a certain point in the sky.

'I can't see anything there,' Potter grunted.

'Not yet,' Draco murmured.

'Where are we anyway? Why isn't there snow here?'

'Shut up and watch, Potter.'

And watch they did as the sky lightened and the sun rose in a golden hue. Potter was dumbstruck.

Draco laughed at his expression, wrapping one arm around Potter's shoulder. It was instinctual but Draco had never initiated it before. He froze until Potter leaned into him, resting his head on Draco's shoulder.

'Do you know why I like the November sun?' He asked quietly. 'It shines brighter than in May. There's something about the warmth of the wintry sun, don't you think?' Potter looked up at him.

Draco's gaze was hooked onto the way the emerald orbs were reflecting the sunlight, brimming with satisfaction.

'Yes,' Draco whispered, not looking away. 'The sunshine is brighter.'

This is probably a bit here and there and I tried to make it not huge but 🤷🏻‍♀️

[fortheheavenssake]

💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 6

36. June 03

MM ANON …… 2020 another royal baby ………… development in Portugal ……… more charges eminent Minnesota ……… a wet summer ………… ISS a strange smell? ……… … London protests …………NAACP……… size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ………” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻☺️☺️THANK YOU MM ANON☺️☺️🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

JUNE 3/2020. RIDDLE#36

KIDS I WAS AHEAD ONE NUMBER IN THE RIDDLE THANKS TO @fortheheavenssake WHO KEEPS ME ORGANIZED. SO YOU WILL SEE #36 AGAIN TODAY AS IT IS THE CORRECT NUMBER OF RIDDLE

2020 another royal baby

AS I HAVE BEEN POSTULATING SINCE LAST NOVEMBER 🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 I FULLY BELIEVE CATHERINE IS PREGNANT, AND LOCKDOWN WAS PERFECT TIME TO DEAL WITH HER HG SYMPTOMS AND APPEAR ON CAMERA NECK UP, SO NO BABY BUMP TO BE NOTICED OR HIDDEN. ALSO WE HAVE PRINCESS EUGENIE, ALTHOUGH TECHNICALLY THE BABY WOULD NOT HAVE A ROYAL STATUS. ZARA IS NOT TITLED SO HER CHILDREN TECHNICALLY ARE NOT ROYAL. DEPENDS HOW LOOSELY USED THE TERM, ROYAL IS. FOR MY PART I WOULD BE TRIPLE EXCITED IF THEY ALL HAD LITTLE ONES!!

………… development in Portugal ………

HUGE BREAKING NEWS IN THE 13YEAR OLD UNRELENTING PURSUIT BY THE MCCANNS AND THE POLICE TO FIND DEAR LITTLE MADELEINE, WHO VANISHED FROM THEIR VACATION ROOM IN PORTUGAL ONE EVENING. YOU ALL KNOW THE STORY. I HAVE FOLLOWED THIS CLOSELY FOR YEARS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. THE MCCANNS HAVE BEEN TO HELL AND BACK AGAIN, SO THEY HAVE. TODAY THE REVELATION THAT A MALE GERMAN NATIONAL, CURRENTLY INCARCERATED IN GERMANY, IS A MAIN SUSPECT. GOD PLEASE LET HER BE ALIVE BUT EITHER WAY PLEASE THE MCCANNS NEED TO KNOW WHERE THEIR GIRL IS, SHE WOULD BE 17 NOW .

more charges eminent Minnesota ………

THEY HAVE ANNOUNCED NEW CHARGES AGAINST THE OFFICERS WHO MURDERED MR. GEORGE FLOYD. UPGRADED FROM 3RD DEGREE TO 2ND MURDER AGAINST THE MAIN OFFICER WHO KEPT HIS KNEE ON HIS NECK. THE OTHER THREE ARE CHARGED WITH ACCESSORY TO MURDER. AS OF NOW AS I KNOW, ONE IS IN CUSTODY, THE OTHER TWO WILL SOON BE. ESPECIALLY DAMNING, ONE OF THE OFFICERS IN THE VIDEO TRIED TO VERBALLY SAY, HEY EASE UP OR SOMETHING SIMILAR.

a wet summer …………

BEER IS SOON TO BE FLOWING AGAIN IN U.K. BARS. THE BREWERIES IN THE U.K. ARE FILLING MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF KEGS IN ANTICIPATION OF BARS REOPENING. THE NORMAL DRUNK PHOTOS IN THE DM EACH WEEKEND WERE BAD ENOUGH. AFTER MONTHS OF NOT GOING OUT , OH IT IS GOING TO BE ONE MASSIVE BENDER.🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. NO MORE DRY WEEKENDS.

ISS a strange smell? ……… …

I DO NOT THINK ITS SMELL AS IN SCENT, BUT SMELL AS IN SOMETHING IS OFF. THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION HAS BEEN DOCKED A FEW DAYS AGO. THE DOCKING HAPPENED OVER CHINA. THEY ARE SAYING THIS WAS A TECHNOLOGICAL ISSUE NOT POLITICAL. I SOMEHOW DO NOT THINK CHINA AGREES. I DO NOT THINK THEY APPRECIATE HAVING THAT SHOVED IN THEIR FACE, BUT IT WAS NOT DONE PURPOSEFULLY. THATS THEIR STORY AND THEY’RE STICKING TO IT, TO QUOTE SONG LYRICS🤣🤣🤣😂😂.

London protests …………NAACP………

NAACP, IN AMERICA, IS THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF COLOURED PEOPLE. THIS ORGANIZATION HAS BEEN VERY ACTIVE IN CIVIL RIGHTS IN AMERICA ESPECIALLY IN THE 1969’S THINGS REALLY BECAME NATIONAL. STILL VERY ACTIVE ARE NUMEROUS SIMILAR ORGANIZATIONS. THIS HORRIFIC MURDER HAS BROUGHT PROTESTS WORLDWIDE. THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS IN HYDE PARK TODAY IN LONDON. HEADS TOGETHER HAS COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF BLM, BLACK LIVES MATTER. NO JUSTICE NO PEACE, YOU OFTEN HEAR SAID.

size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ……

I CAN SEE CATHERINE PLANNING OUTFITS AS LOCKDOWN IS PHASING DOWN OR IS UP THE RIGHT WORD? EITHER WAY SHE NEEDS TO PLAN A FULL LENGTH WARDROBE FOR WHEN ENGAGEMENTS RESUME. EVENTWO YEARS PREGNANT SHE IS NOT A SIZE 12? BUT NO WAY NO HOW IS SHE OR HER FEET A SIZE 12.

SEEING THAT RED SHOE REMINDS ME OF THE ARTICLE , TODAY OR WAS IT YESTERDAY, HMTQ’S SHOES FOR HER CORONATION. SHE HAD ACTUAL RUBY SLIPPERS. GOLD SHOES AND HEELS COVERED IN RUBIES. THE FRENCH SHOE COMPAN6 HAS PARTNERED WITH ANOTHER COMPANY AND RELEASED A COLLECTOR SHOE GOLD, RED AND BLACK I THINK. RHINESTONES OR SWAROVSKI CRYSTALS NO RUBIES.

TIK TOK IS ANNOYING, PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES🤣🤣😂😂😂. THE “SONG” MUMMY MUMMY, TO CALL IT A SONG, I INSULT MUSICAL ARTISTS🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. ALL OVER TIK TOK AND YOUTUBE ENDLESSLY. I THINK I COULD TOLERATE IT, IF AND ONLY IF , ALL THREE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN DID IT😁😁😁😁.

…” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

BACK TO THE SITTING ROOM AT WINDSOR CASTLE. SOUNDS LIKE THEY FINISHED BINGE WATCHING THE SOPRANOS BECAUSE NOBODY, N O B O D Y EXPECTED THAT STUPID ENDING. HOWEVER THE SERIES WAS AWESOME AND THEY ENJOYED. HMTQ ASKING SYDNEY IF HE HAS ANYMORE DVD SETS. CATHERINE HAS PEAKY BLINDERS ON DVD THEY WILL LIKE THAT. BRITISH DRAMA ABOUT A REAL LIFE GANG IN THE EARLY PART OF THE 20TH CENTURY. HMTQ IS ASKING IF ITS FUNNY IE GOOD BRITISH HUMOUR OR GREAT 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. GOOD RESULTS. DRINKS SYDNEY, MM ANON FORGOT TO ADD COCKTAILS SO ITS MY JOB TO MAKE SURE THEY HAVE THEIR DRINKS😁😁😁

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————

37. June 4

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 4/2020. RIDDLE#37

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

*Entertainment purposes

MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓…………

UNTIL NOW, THE WOKE, ACTIVIST HUMANITARIAN HAS REMAINED SILENT ABOUT A POLICE MURDER OF AN UNARMED BLACK MAN IN HER OWN COUNTRY. ISSUES SHE HAS CLAIMED TO CHAMPION AND CLUNG TO FOR SYMPATHY FROM HER SUGARS AND USED AS AN EXCUSE AGAINST HER UNFAIR TREATMENT , AS SHE PERCEIVED IT TO BE, BY THE U.K. MEDIA, PEOPLE ETC ETC. THE WORLD BY THE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS, DESPITE A PANDEMIC, HAVE TAKEN TO THE STREETS TO MARCH. ALONG WITH SOME BAD ACTORS WHO LOOT CAUSE VIOLENCE ARE NOT THERE FOR THE RIGHT REASONS. TODAY, IN A VIDEO TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF HER FORMER SCHOOL, SHE FINALLY COMMENTED. “The only wrong thing to say is to say nothing.” STOLEN VERSION OF THE MUCH ACCLAIMED LINE, EVIL FLOURISHES WHEN GOOD MEN STAND BY AND DO NOTHING. THE ORIGIN OF THIS HAS MULTIPLE ATTRIBUTIONS . WOW YOU CAN JUST FEEL HER PASSION FOR THIS ISSUE EH? NOT NOT NOT . WHAT A HYPOCRITE.

THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE HAVE SPOKEN OIT VIA THEIR HEADS TOGETHER PLATFORM PUTTING THE FULL SUPPORT OF BLM, BLACK LIVES MATTER. THIS IS A MASSIVE ORGANIZATION AND HUGE SUPPORT FOR BLM.

the Tatler connection

ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME IS THE SAYING AS IS WE ARE ALL SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION FROM EACH OTHER. HERE WE HAVE THE GARBAGE MAGAZINE ,TATLER. MADAMS BESTIE JM SISTER VM HAS WORKED AT THE RAG AND HAS LOTS OF CONNECTIONS THERE. THAT IS ONLY TWO OR THREE DEGREES OF SEPARATION FROM CATHERINE, DEPENDING HOW YOU DO THE MATH. IT IS NOT HARD TO PUT THE PIECES TOGETHER AND FIGURE OUT THE GENESIS OF THESE AND SO MANY OTHER LIES ABOUT OUR BELOVED CAMBRIDGES. FURIOUS IS HOW I FEEL. USING CHILDREN, HOW LOW AND EVIL.!!

🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼…………

PORGY AND BESS, CLASSIC BREAKTHROUGH PLAY AND FILM , FROM THE 1940’S. IT WAS GROUNDBREAKING , WITH AN ENTIRE BLACK CAST AND AMAZING MUSIC SUCH IS THE CLASSIC SONG, STORMY WEATHER. THE LYRICS ARE A WOMAN BEMOANING THE FACTS THAT SHE SND HER MAN ARE NOT TOGETHER AND THE SONG STORMY WEATHER AS A METAPHOR FOR THE DIRECTION THEIR LIVES HAVE TAKEN. THE MARVELLOUS LENA HORNE, FABULOUS. WE ARE IN THE STORMIEST OF STORMY WEATHER IN 2020. THE CHAOS, VOLATILITY, AND GRACIOUS, WILL COVID-19 SPIKE IN TWO WEEKS TIME AFTER EXPOSURE BY INNUMERABLE PEOPLE PROTESTING HUDDLED TOGETHER.

THE FORMER HEAD OF MI6, ALONG WITH ANOTHER RESEARCHER. HOW I WISH I COULD RECALL THEIR NANES BUT I READ IT DURING THE NIGHT . THEY OPINED THAT THIS VIRUS HAS ADDED DNA CHAINS THAT POI NT TO IT BEING A. MANMADE VIRUS. POSTULATING, IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY LET OUT BY BREAK IN PROCEDURE OR WHATEVER REASON IN WUHAN CHINA. OF NOTE, THE ONLY LEVEL FOUR LAB IN CHINA, IS IN WUHAN. THERE ARE MANY SUCH LABS WORLDWIDE. THEY KEEP SAMPLES OF ALL THE VIRUSES, BACTERIA KNOWN TO EXIST. LEVEL FOUR BEING THE MOST DANGEROUS ONES AND LETHAL ONES. LOTS OF RESEARCH GOES ON. I LIVE NEAR ONE.

MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4………………

MADDOG, HOW HE HATES AND ABHORS THAT NICKNAME. POTUS KEPT USING THAT NICKNAME BEFORE AND AFTER APPOINTING HIM SECDEF. GENERAL MATTHIAS WES SECDEF (SECRETARY OF DEFENSE) UNDER POTUS UNTIL HE RESIGNED. HE STATED HE WOULD NEVER MAKE A PUBLIC STATEMENT ABOUT POTUS EVER. WELL THAT CHANGED THIS WEEK AFTER GOVERNMENT OFFICERS, NATIONAL GUARD, AND A GENERAL IN FULL MILITARY FATIGUES WALKED WITH POTUS IN A NON MILITARY ZONE. VARIOUS GOVERNMENT AGENCIES, NATIONAL GUARD, SECRET SERVICE, LAW ENFORCEMENT AND OTHERS CLEARED THE PEACEFUL PROTESTORS AWAY, SO POTUS AND OTHERS COULD WALK TO THE CHURCH THAT HAD BEEN ON FIRE MONDAY NIGHT. IT WAS CALLED A PHOTO OP BY SOME AND AGAINST THEIR RIGHTS TO PEACEFUL PROTEST, I THINK THATS THE FOURTH AMENDMENT RIGHT.

ALL FOUR OFFICERS HAVE BEEN CHARGED, BOOKED AND IN CUSTODY ON A MILLION DOLLAR BOND EACH ONE. MURDER TWO FOR THE KNEE ON NECK OFFICER, THE OTHER THREE AIDING AND ABETTING MURDER. I AM NOT TYPING THEIR NAME ON PURPOSE.

14 days to binge. ………

ODD ODD ODD, NEW LAW WILL COME INTO EFFECT IN THE U.K., THOSE ENTERING THE U.K. WILL HAVE TO SELF ISOLATE FOR FOURTEEN DAYS, HOWEVER, IT IS MY UNDERSTANDING THEY CAN GOLF AND DO STUFF LIKE THAT. UNLESS I MISREAD THE ARTICLE YESTERDAY.

I THINK THIS IS MORESO THE COUNTDOWN IS ON FOR A MASSIVE BENDER WHEN THE BARS OPEN AND PEOPLE CAN BINGE OF FOOD AND MORE IMPORTANTLY DRINK. I CAN ONLY IMAGINE THE PHOTOS. THE DM WILL RUN. PAPER SAYING BREWERIES AIMING TO HAVE 250,000,000 YES MILLION PINTS DELIVERED IN THE NEXT TWO WEEKS!!!

a Russian contamination …………

MOSCOWS MAYOR ANNOUNCED TODAY SOME THINGS ARE REOPENING, NON FOOD STORES SND SOME OTHER BUSINESSES ARE BEING ALLOWED TO REOPEN ALONG WITH BEGINNING TO USE PARKS AND OUTDOOR SPACES AS WELL.

RUSSIA Is ALSO STARTING A NEW DRUG TO TREAT THE VIRUS , CALLED AVIFAVIR, NEXT WEEK. IT IS BEING HERALDED AS A “GAME CHANGER”.

THERE ARE ARTICLES CLAIMING THAT RUSSIA, LIKE CHINA US NIT REPORTING ACCURATE NUMBERS TO THE WHO.

vaccine summit ………

THE VIRTUAL G7 YOUTH SUMMIT IS BEING HELD NOW, JUNE 3-5/2020, ONE YOUNG WORLD. ALL SORTS OF DISCUSSIONS THERE ON THIS ISSUE AND OTHERS.

THERE ARE SO MANY ANTI-VACCERS. LOOK AT KAT VON D. SHE HAD A MASSIVE CONTRACT WITH SEPHORA FOR A MAKEUP LINE. IT WAS HUGELY MASSIVELY POPULAR. IF YOU DONT KNOW, KAT VON D HAD A PART ABD THEN HER OWN REALITY SHOW ABOUT HER TATTOO SHOP. SHE IS TATTED HEAD TO TOE. ANYHOW SHE HAD A BABY, THEN ON HER SOCIAL MEDIA SHE CAME OUT HARD AS AN ANTIVACCER. HER FANS REACTED WILDLY GIVING HER THE NAME KAT VON DISEASE. SALES PLUMMETED. SHE IS NO LONG WITH SEPHORA. THE LINE IS THERE BUT ITS CALLED KVD VEGAN BUT SHE GETS NO MONEY.

”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

AGAIN FAVOURITE PART OF THE RIDDLES, WE GET A PEAK INTO THE SITTING ROOM AT WC, WINDSOR CASTLE. OH MY. HIMSELF US FIDDLING WITH EMOJIS, TIK TOK, FACES, ADDONS THINGAMAJIGGIES, BECAUSE I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT THEY ARE CALLED🤣🤣🤣😂😂. I AM NOT TECHNOLOGICALLY “WOKE”🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂🤪🤪🤪🤪. CAN YOU ENVISION THIS, HIMSELF TAKING SELFIES AND MAKING FACES🥳🥳🥳😄😄🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. HMTQ IS NOT HAVING THAT AND WANTS EVER PATIENT SYDNEY TO TAKE THE PHOTOS. HE SUGGESTS A CANDID PHOTO IF THE COUPLE TOGETHER IN THEIR CHILLING OUT CLOTHES WHILE BINGE WATCHING DVDS 📀. HIMSELF IS MUTTERING, FIDDLING WITH TIK TOK, MUMBLING ABOUT ZOOM MEETINGS THAT TECHNOLOGY. LAMENTING ALL THE NEW WAYS OF CONNECTING THAT HAVE BECOME SO VALUED DURING OUR LOCKDOWN. AFTER ALL THIS, THEY NEED THEIR COCKTAILS. HMTQ THINKS HIMSELF NEEDS A WEE BEVVIE TO CHILL OUT. THE USUAL BODDINGTONS FOR HIM, GIN AND DuBONNET FOR HMTQ 🍺 🍸, CHEERS .☺️☺️😊😊😊☺️☺️

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————-

38. June 6

MM ANON …… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth…… everyone is crawling out the woodwork ……… “I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… M&H on the March??? ………… over 40,000………… flight attendant/ ……… the dodgy R…………… mandatory masks ………… The Amazon too ??? ………… online celebrity … “ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

June 6/2020

RIDDLE FROM JUNE 5/2020. RIDDLE #38

SO SORRY I WAS NOT AROUND YESTERDAY I HAVE BEEN SO EXHAUSTED, SO HERE IT IS.

… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth

EVERY POSSIBLE COMPANY, AGENCY, WHATEVER YOU WANTTO CALL IT, HAS HOPPED ONTO THE BLM, BANDWAGON. ONLY WORD USED TO , IN OLDEN DAYS WHEN SALESMEN WENT TOWN TO TOWN THEY WOULD HAVE MUSIC TO ANNOUNCE THEIR ARRIVAL IN TOWN. NOW, IT IS SIMPLY A CURRENT HOT BUTTON ISSUE MANY JOIN IN SINCERE BELIEF BUT OFTEN OTHERS AND CORPORATIONS DO IT, SIMPLY TO GET PR AND HOPEFULLY GOOD PR. MAKE THEM LOOK ALL HIP, SHINY AND MODERN.

WELL MADAM BIDED HER TIME, OH YOU CLEVER THING RACHEL. YOU WAITED UNTIL PEOPLE WERE ASKING WHY SHE WAS SILENT AND AFTER MOST BIG CELEBS HAD SPOKEN OUT. THEN BAM! OUT COMES HER VIDEO. I COULD NOT STOMACHE WATCHING ITS ENTIRETY. I WILL NOT GO ON ABOUT IT BUT SUFFICE TO SAY, MORE 🗑GARBAGE.AND LIES.

everyone is crawling out the woodwork ………

THIS SAYING MEANS A HUGE PUBLIC ISSUES AND EVERYONE WANTS THEIR FIFTEEN MINUTES OF FAME BACK. PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT RELEVANT OR ONCE WERE, ARE LIKE ROACHES CRAWLING OUT IN THE DARK TO ADD THEIR UNASKED FOR OR UNNEEDED OPINION. THIS HAPPENS EVERYTIME THERE IS A BIG PUBLIC ISSUE.

“I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… flight attendant/

COVERT19, NOT COVID-19. SOMEONE IS FLYING AN AIRLINE WITH SYMPTOMS BUT NOT TRUTHFUL ABOUT. IS THIS PUBLIC? I KNOW WHEN THINGS FURST STARTED MANY PEOPLE LIED ABOUT WHERE THEY HAD BEEN, HOW THEY WERE FEELING.MANY PEOPLE BUCKED THE FOURTEEN DAYS QUARANTINE. I HEARD OF A WEDDING , FROM ONE OF MY FRIENDS. THEY HAD 250 THERE IN THEIR FARMYARD. I GUESS SOMEONE CALLED LAW ENFORCEMENT.EVERY ONE OF THOSE 250 PEOPLE RECEIVED A $1,000.00 FINE. QUART MILLION DOLLAR WEDDING. I WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT. AS WELL. KIDS YOU KNOW I USE THAT WORD COVERT ALOT DESCRIBING HARRYS MISSION AS OVERT COVERT.

QUICK GOOGLE SEARCH BRINGS THIS, NOT SURE IF ITS RELEVANT , BUT , INSAW THE CLUE FLIGHT ATTENDANT/FURTHER DOWN SO I SHALL COMBINE. PLUS ITS A MARVELLOUS FEEL GOOD STORY. THE CEO OF AA, AMERICAN AIRLINES,IS FLYING COMPETITOR AIRLINE SOUTHWEST, WHICH IS GREAT BY THE WAY, IN MY PAST EXPERIENCE. ANYHOW HE WAS READING A BOOK WHICH CAUGHT THE FLIGHT ATTENDANTS ATTENTION, CALLED WHITE FRAGILITY. THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT IS BLACK.CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THE CURRENT APPROPRIATE WORD TO USE, IS IT BLACK OR AFRICAN AMERICAN. MANY POC ARE FROM PLACES OTHER THAN AFRICA. MY FAMILY MEMBERS SOME ARE FROM ST. LUCIA. ANYHOW PLEASE LET ME KNOW. ANYHOW THIS EVENT WAS MADE PUBLIC AND TURNED INTO A REALLY BEAUTIFUL MOMENT AND CONVERSATION ABOUT THE ISSUES PEOPLE ARE MARCHING ABOUT.

M&H on the March??? …………

ALL THESE VARIOUS SCHEDULED MARCHES ARE TO CONTINUE WHICH MEANS UNSCHEDULED ONES WILL AS WELL. ARE MADAM AND FAIRY GOING TO MARCH? SERIOUSLY, RACHEL, THIS WOULD REQUIRE ACTUAL WALKING AND POSSIBLY THE UNCLEAN GENERAL PUBLIC. BRUSHING UP AGAINST YOUR NON ROYAL BODY. MAYBE THEY WILL SPONSOR OR TAKE PART IN A VIRTUAL WALK WITH USING ARCHIES SAFETY AND HEALTH AS AN EXCUSE. DONT WANT HIM GETTING COVID NOR FAIRRY, SINCE HE IS IN LINE IF SUCCESSION TO A HOLLYWOOD ACTORS WITH GINGER HAIR CROWN.🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

over 40,000…………

IS THIS THE NUMBER OF THE CROWN THAT PROTESTED IN LONDON HYDE PARK?

the dodgy R……………

BIG HEADLINE ON THURSDAYS DM , LATE IN THE DATE WAS THE DIFFERENCE IN R RATE IN DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE U.K. IT IS ABOVE 1 IN THE NORTH WEST AND SOUTH WEST. ONE WONDERS WHAT IT WILL BE AFTER ALL THESE MARCHES. WILL IT INCREASE, DECREASE OR WHO KNOWS? HOW RELIABLE IS THIS IS ANYWAYS. SEEMS THINGS CHANGE ALL THE TIME, DONE TO EARLY OR TOO LATE AND IN WAYS NOT MAKING SENSE.

mandatory masks …………

THIS HAS BEEN BANDIED ABOUT. VARIOUS PLACES ARE REQUIRING MANDATORY MASKS TO BE WORN OR YOU CANNOT SHOP OR USE THAT FACILITY. SOME ARE ADDING TEMP CHECKS AND HAND SANITIZER TOO. MASKS MANDTORY FOR ALL IN HOSPITALS IN THE U.K. AFTER TO CREST HAS PASSED. WHY START THIS NOW?

The Amazon too ??? …………

IS THIS THE ACTUAL AMAZON, OR AMAZON WHERE WE ALL SHOP. I THINK SINCE MM ANON USED THE QUALIFIER THE, SHE IS REFERRING TO THE JUNGLE RAINFOREST. WITH THE CEASING OF SO MUCH INDUSTRY DURING LOCKDOWN, THERE HAVE BEEN AMAZING DARE INSAY MIRACULOUS EFFECTS ON THE WORKD ENVIRONMENT. IT IS NOT ALL WINE AND ROSES THERE. AMONGST INDIGENOUS BRAZILIANS COVID INFECTION RATES ARE SOARING, WHIKE THE PANDEMIC LOCKDOWN IS BRINGING ABOUT MASSIVE INCREASES IN DEFORESTATION. TRULY IS AN ECONOMIC BOOM AND A LOOMING MASSIVE DEATH TOLL. THERE CERTAINLY IS NOT MUCH IN THE NEWS ABOUT THIS THAT I HAVE SEEN, CBC OR BBC WORLD.

ABOUT AMAZON THE COMPANY, THERE HAS BEEN A WHISTLEBLOWER IN ONTARIO WHO HAS BLOW THE LID ON UNSAFE WORKING CONDITION DURING COVID. STATING WORKERS WERE NIT NOTIFIED OF OTHER CO WORKERS HAVING COVID , PUTTING THEM AND THEUR FAMILIES AT RISK .

AUTHOR ALESX BERENSON HAS WRITTEN A BOOKLET FOR KINDKE READERS ABOUT THOUGHTS ON THE HANDLING IF COVID-19. AMAZON REMOVED IT FROM PUBLISHING. NEVER ONE TO NOT WADE IN ON ANY ISSUE EVER, ELON MUSK, YES THE ONE AND THE SAME, ROCKET BILLIONAIRE, CALLED OUT BEZOS ON THIS WHO SAID ITVWA REMOVED IN ERROR, OH OKAY THEN. NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE RIGHT ALONG FOLKS. MUSK IS NOT MOVING ON,IN FACT IS CALLING FOR THE BREAKUP OF AMAZON. JEFF BEZOS. HAS BEEN ATTACKED NUMEROUS TIMES AND EMPLOYEES OVER THE YEARS HAVE AT THE PERIL OF LOSING THEIR JOB, SPOKEN OUT ABOUT THE WORKING CONDITIONS. I BELIEVE THEY ARE ABOUT TO LEASE THEIR COVID EXTRA PAY SOON TOO, UNLESS IT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED. ANYONE GOING TO STOP SHOPPING AT AMAZON? THOUGHTS? HOW DIFFERENTREALKY ARE OTHER PLACES WE SHOP? WE HAVE NO CLUE CREALLY.

online celebrity …

MADAM HAD DONE SOME PRETTY MAJOR STUFF TO HER FACE, OR RATHER HAS HAD DONE. I LOVED THAT COMMENT ABOUT THE HORSES TAIL PONYTAIL🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. INWISH I COULD RECALL WHICH ANON SAID IT SO I COULD GIVE YOU CREDIT. WHEN ONE IS POPULAR ON YOUTUBE, HAS A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF FOLLOWERS AND VIEWS, I DONT KNOW IF THOSE NUMBERS ARE ARBITRARY, BASED ON COUNTRY OR BASED ON VIEWS. HOWEVER THEY ARE CALLED INFLUENCERS. NOWHERE THIS MORE EVIDENT THAN IN THE COSMETICS WORLD. THE BEAUTY INDUSTRY HAS COMPLETELY CHANGED. THEY COLLAB ON MAKEUP WITH INFLUENCERS. SO MANY INDIE BRANDS ARE BREAKING INTO THE WORLD HUGE MONEY MAKERS. A LOT OF THESE INFLUENCERS HAVE GONE ON TO HAVE THEIR OWN COLLECTIONS AKA JEFFREY STARR, JAMES CHARLES ETC ETC. SO IS MADAM FANCYING HERSELF THAT NOW. SPOUTING HER RABID WOKE WORD SALAD ONKINE FOR $$$$$. I COUKD TOTALLY SEE HER DOING THIS. KIDS SHE IS NEVER NOT GOING TO BE IN THE MEDIA,MBRACE YOURSELVES!

“ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

BACK TO WC, THE CAMBRIDGES HAVR ARRIVED IN FULL FOR E. CATHERINE REMINDING THE CHILDREN ABOUT PHYSICAL DISTANCING. IT IS SO HARD IS IT NOT? AT SNY SGE!! HUG DEPRIVED AM l!!. CATHERINE IS WEARING HER NEW RED SHOES AND, NO WAY IN CANADIAN SIZES IS SHE A SIZE TWELVE, MORE LIKE 2LONG. BUT NONETHELESS SHE HAS ON HER NEW OUTFIT SHE WAS CHOOSING IN THE RIDDLE FROM THE OTHER DAY. I WONDER IF THE GOT TALKING ABOUT UHNTS’S CORONATION RUBIED SLIPPERS? OF COURSE, THEY MUST HAVE, THEY ARE WOME!!🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

HMTQ ENCOURAGING HIMSELF TO WATCH THE REA LIFE TIK TOK PERFORMANCES. HIMSELF COMMENTING ON GEORGE OR LOUIS ON HOW MJCH HEVHAS GROWN, LIKELY LOUIS BECAUSE BABIES GROW SO TERRIBLY MUCH. AND ITS BEEN SOMETIME SINCE THEY HAVE BEEN TOGETHER IRL, IN REAL LIFE. AGAIN REFRESHMENTS ON THE WAY.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————-

39. June 6

MM ANON …… the battle of Whitehall ……… agent Provocateurs………new trading …… it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it ………… social distancing got wet……… antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………🎼when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼………… “ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ ……… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

*Entertainment Purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 6/2020. RIDDLE #39

the battle of Whitehall ………

THERE WERE PROTEST MARCHES AGAIN TODAY IN CITIES THE WORLD OVER REGARDING BLM AND RACE ISSUES. I HAD BBC WORLD ON THIS MORNING. THEY WERE SAYING THE TWO MAIN CROWDS IN LONDON WERE IN WHITEHALL NEAR PARLIAMENT SQUARE AND THE OTHER WAS AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY. THE CROWD NEAR OR IN PARLIAMENT SQUARE LOOKED MASSIVE.

agent Provocateurs………

THE OTHER DAY WE HAD ONE, NOW IT IS MULTIPLE. VERY INTERESTING. WHO ELSE IS DOING THE SPYING.WE KNOW ITS A STORE BUT THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE UNLESS SOME GOT VANDALIZED.MANY LUXURY STORES HAVE BEEN.

LETS , FOR MY SAKE AT LEAST, LOOK AT THE FULL DEFINITION.

FROM WIKI

An agent provocateur (French for “inciting agent”) is a person who commits or who acts to entice another person to commit an illegal or rash act or falsely implicate them in partaking in an illegal act, so as to ruin the reputation or entice legal action against the target or a group they belong to. They may target any group, such as a peaceful protest or demonstration, a union, a political party or a company.

SO THIS IS VERY RELEVANT TO THE PEACEFUL BLM MARCHES. WE HAVE HEARD OF MANY ORGANIZATIONS THAT DISRUPT THESE PEACEFUL MARCHES CAUSE MAYHEM,DESTRUCTION, LOOTING, VIOLENCE AGAINST THE POLICE OR OTHER PROTESTERS, EVEN MURDER. ANTIFA, ANARCHISTS, AND OTHER GROUPS HAVE BEEN MENTIONED. ALWAYS AT THE G7 AND G20 SUMMITS TOO. THEY VIRTUALLY DESTROYED DOWNTOWN TORONTO BUSINESSES A FEW YEARS AGO DURING ONE IF THE G MEETINGS. ITS DISGUSTING TO CAUSE THIS MAYHEM WHEN THERE ARE GENUINE ISSUES PEOPLE ARE PASSIONATE ABOUT.

new trading ……

THEY HAVE JUST PARTIALLY OPENED MAY 26/2020. SURPRISINGLY STOCKS ARE REBOUNDING. THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE IN AMERICA ANNOUNCED THIS WEEK HAS LOWERED, TO 13.3 %. 2.5 MILLION NEW JOBS HAVE BEEN CREATED SINCE LAST MONTH. THE ECONOMY IS REBOUNDING QUICKER THAN EXPECTED. OH KIDS THUNDERING LIKE CRAZY HERE.

it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it …………

AGAIN THE STAR TREK REFERENCE, DR MCCOY TALKING TO CAPTAIN KIRK. MEANING THE HIGHEST RANK IS BEING INFORMED. MIGHT THIS BE LG TALKING WITH HMTQ ABOUT WHATS ON THE DOCKET FOR SUNDAY. MORE PROTESTS ARE PLANNED. ALWAYS THE RISK OF BAD ACTORS CAUSING MAYHEM AND WORSE.HOW LONG WILL THIS CONTINUE?? 2020 THUS FAR HAS BEEN FULL OF UNEXPECTED HORRORS.

social distancing got wet………

DURING TODAYS MARCHES IN LONDON, I SAW VARIOUS PEOPLE BEING INTERVIEWED, IT LOOKED COLD AND RAINY. MANY HAD THEIR HOOD UP WEARING THEIR GORTEX RAIN GEAR. HARD TO SOCIAL DISTANCE IN A CROWD OF THOUSANDS AND THEN RAIN ☔️ TO BOOT.

antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………

IN VACCINE DEVELOPMENT THEY USUALLY USE A WEAKENED SAMPLE OF THE VIRUS OR BACTERIA , SO THEY CANNOT REPLICATE THEMSELVES, YET ENOUGH IN THE VACCINE TO TRIGGER IMMUNE RESPONSE TO DEVELOP ANTIBODIES AND THEREFORE ONE WILL DEVELOP A IMMUNITY. THIS IS THE ANSWER TO ANY VACCINE. AS YESTERDAYS RIDDLES CLUE THERE ARE MORE CASES OF COVID-19 IN THE NORTH WEST AND SOUTH WEST OF ENGLAND. THE R RATE BEING ABOVE 1 IS CRITICALLY VERY BAD NEWS INDEED. THIS IS THE HIGHEST SINCE THE PEAK OF PANDEMIC AND LOCAL LEADERS CALLING FOR LOCKDOWNS AGAIN. MATT HANCOCK, IS DOWNPLAYING THIS. I THINK WE ALL FEAR A HUGE TSUNAMI OF A SECOND WAVE. FOR ME, I SEE THESE CROWDS MARCHING IN NYC,NEW YORK WHICH HAS BEEN THE EPICENTRE FOR CASES IN AMERICA. THESE MARCHES ARE MASSIVE RISK FOR VIRUS SPREAD. I FEAR VERY MUCH A SECOND WAVE LARGER THAN HAD PREVIOUSLY BEEN ANTICIPATED. IF WE HAVE TO REVERSE THINGS FOR A SECOND SPIKE AND GO BACK INTO COMPLETE LOCKDOWN AGAIN INFEAR NON COMPLIANCE. 🎼

when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼…………

SONG BY OL BLUE EYES HIMSELF,FRANK SINATRA, IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR. THE AGE 65 IS NOT MENTIONED. HE SINGS ABOUT DIFFERENT PHASES OF LIFE AND EXPERIENCES. THE FINAL VERSE IS THE AUTUMN OF LIFE. SO WHO IS 65? MADAM?🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 WAS SHE BORN IN 1965? THAT WOULD MAKE HER 52! HIMSELF IS TURNING 99 NEXT WEEK IS THIS REFERENCING HIS LONG LIFE OF EXPERIENCES?

“ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ ……… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

MORE FUN AT WC. THEY MUST BE WATCHING WILLIAM AND CATHERINE’S WEDDING 📀 DVD, HOW LOVELY. POINTING OUT MUMMY TO GAN GAN, HMTQ, AS THEY RIDE THROUGH THE STREES IN HORSES AND CARRIAGE. HOW WONDERFUL WAS THAT WEDDING EH?? AND OF COURSE OUR CHARLOTTE WANTS A WEDDING LIKE THAT ABD MOST DEFINITELY WANTS GAN GAN TO BE THERE. HMTQ PROMISES TO TRY HER BEST TO BE THERE. HOW CHARMING AND HEARTWARMING. I HAVE TEARS ABOUT THIS, WITHOUT SAYING MORE.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

40. June 8

MM ANON ……who’s her next favourite millionaire ……… Malibu?? ……… NYC??……… another sad video cry for help ……… archificial ( firsts words) 🤣🤣🤣………… mad / bad & dangerous to know ……… “ it’s me, me film me!! ………… “ turn around!! “ ……… “ he’s not letting her agenda rule” ………” this is not up for debate “………… “yes ones looking forward to traveling up there “ ………” get in touch with the Gillie” …………… “ can one travel to ones other residence?

SORRY I JUST COUKD T GET TO THIS ONE. THANK YOU DEAR LADYKINRANNOCH FABULOUS AS ALWAYS

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————-

41. June 8

MM ANON ……D.O.J.……… A Stern retort. ………… the sept. Soothsayer ……… A 14 day suicide for the trade………… in court today ……… Beatrice tooo tu!! …………… wonderful Wessex……… more photos from Kate??? ……… no fuss birthday ………… “ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ……… MM desperatum iri videbatur……

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 8/20. RIDDLE #41

SORRY KIDS I MISSED YESTERDAY’S RIDDLES AND THIS IS FAR FROM MY BEST. I AM NOT FEELING WELL, AND AM SO VERY VERY TIRED.

D.O.J.……… A STERN RETORT…IN COURT TODAY

PAPERS AGAIN BRINGING UP PRINCE ANDREW AND THE DOJ/FBI IN AMERICA. DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE AND FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. HE STATES HE HAS OFFERED THREE SEPARATE TIME TO ANSWER QUESTIONS, YET THEY HAVE NOT TAKEN HIM UP ON IT. THE F.B. I. IS IN A WORLD OF HURT NOW WITH THE CURRENT INQUIRY GOING ON INTOTHE FISA WARRANTS THAT WASTHE GENESIS OF THE RUSSIA INVESTIGATION AND THE MUELLER PROBE. PA IS SAYING THEY ARE NOT TREATING HIM LIKE ANY USUAL WITNESS, INDEED LIKE A SECOND CLASS CITIZEN.

THEY HAVE CLAPPED BACK, HENCE STERN RETORT OR REPLY, THAT HE HAS BOT BEEN COOPERATIVE WITH US INVESTIGATORS. THIS ARISE AFTER THE DOJ HAS FILE IN COURT FOR “MUTUAL LEGAL ASSISTANCE REQUESTING HELP FROM THE UK HOME OFFICE.

PA LEGAL OFFICE, BLACKFORDS, HAS THIS AFTERNOON RELEASED A LENGTHLY STATEMENT, POINT, BY POINT. I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU TAKE A LOOK AT. INTERESTING WHY IS THIS COMING UP NOW? HERE IS THE ARTICLE SHOULD YOU WAISH TO READ IN FULL.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8398957/Prince-Andrew-war-Jeffrey-Epstein-prosecutors.html

the sept. Soothsayer ………

SOOTHSAYER IS A SEER, A PREDICTOR, VISIONS. SOMEONE PREDICTING MORE 2039 DISASTER?? CERTAINLY THE FEAR OF A MASSIVE SECOND WAVE, LARGER THAN THE GIRST COMING IN. THE AUTUMN MONTHS ALONG WITH THE USUAL AND FLU SEASONS.

A 14 day suicide for the trade…………

BACK IN RHE BIG STOCK MARKET CRASH ON 1929! MANY BROKERS SUICIDED. IS THIS THE PREDICTION NOW FOR THE MARKETS? THE AMERICAN ECONOMIC NEWS LOOKED BRIGHTER LAST WEEK. HOWEVER THE PROTESTS ARE CONTINUING, GETTING BIGGER, SPREAD ACROSS THE GLOBE. I MUST SAY, I AM GLAD MY PARENTS ARE NOT ALIVE TO SEE THIS AND SEE A STATUE OF WINSTON CHURCHILL SPRAYED OVER. WONDER WHAT THE SURVIVING VETERANS THINK. I WONDER WHAT THE HOLOCAUST SURVIVUORS THINK. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO OUR WORLD IS EVIL, SATAN IS WORKING VERY HARD.

14 DAY SUICIDE FOR WHAT TRADE? WHAT SUICIDE TAKES 14 DAYS? POISON? WHAT IS BEING TRADED? MORE FREEDOM, EASING LOCKDOWNS , LEADING TO AN UPTICK IN CASES OF COVD-19. ARE WE LITERALLY GOING TO LOSE LIVES SO SOME CAN HAVE MORE FREDOM, THE EC9NONMY CAN BEGIN TO RUN. I DARESAY THIS LOCKDOWN HAS RESULTED IN MANY DEATHS ALREADY. MISSED TESTSM NISSED SURGERIES, MISSED TREATMENTS, LOSS OF INCOME, DEPRESSION, MARKED INCREASE IN DOMESTIC VIOLENCE RATES.

Beatrice tooo tu!! ……………

HOW CUTE WAS PRINCESS BEATRICE IS HER TUTU, RAISING MONEY FOR CATERPILLARRUN.COM. FUNNY HOW NEONS ARE SO BACK NOW LIKE THE EARLY 90’S

wonderful Wessex………

THE COUNTESS OF WESSEX, SOPHIE, WORKS SO HARD. VARIED CAUSES FROM RAPPELLING A WALL WITH SOLDIERS IN KOSOVO, TO SPEAKING AT THE UN ON WOMENS ISSUES AND ON AND ON. SHE TRULY IS A TREASURE.

more photos from Kate??? ………

IS CATHERINE RELEASING MORE OF HER PHOTOS? SOME OF THE CHILDREN OR ONE OF A SURPRISE BUMP? SORRY I AM BUMP OBSESSED.

no fuss birthday …………

“ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ………

HMTQ DISCUSSING HER BIRTHDAY DINNER. AS SHE IN CONTINUING THE PLANS OF HEADING NORTH TO BALMORAL IN SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿, AS SHE DOES EACH SUMMER. THE GILLIES BALL IS A TRADITION WITH THE FISHERMEN DANCING WITH ROYALTY. I THINK THIS YEAR, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN UNFORTUNATELY. IT WILL BE A PARED DOWN SMALL DINNER.

MM desperatum iri videbatur…

MADAM IS SEEMINGLY IN A VERY DESPERATE SITUATION INDEED. WITH HER THOUGH, NOTHING IS EVER EVER AS IT APPEARS TO BE EVER!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

42. June 9

MM ANON ……… everyone and their brother,brother ……… wow!! What a photo Kate!!…………… little Louis gets a surprise …………… a well rounded future of three( four) ……… A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

*Entertainment Purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 9/2020. RIDDLE #42

THIS IS A PURE FUN RIDDLE, THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON, I HAVE SO LITTLE ENERGY BUT THIS I SHALL DO WITH PURE LOVE.

THIS RIDDLE IS ENTIRELY FAMILY, HMTQ BIRTHDAY PLANS.

everyone and their brother,brother ………

SO YESTERDAY THEY WERE SAYING A DINNER OF EIGHT. AT BALMORAL. LIMITS THERE ARE EIGHT I BELIEVE, I ALSO BELIEVE HMTQ CAN BEND THE RULES. THE PHRASE, EVERYBODY ABD THEIR BROTHER IS COMING, MEANS A HECK OF A LOT OF PEOPLE. I SEE THIS MEANING OUR HARRY WILL MOST DEFINITELY BE IN ATTENDANCE 💜💜💜💜💜

wow!! What a photo Kate!!……………

TOWN AND COUNTRY REVEAL A NEW PHOTO, OR PREVIOUSLY UNSEEN PHOTO OF WILLIAM HOLDING AN UMBRELLA WALKING WITH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE DURING THE TIME THEY WERE OUT DELIVERING HOME MADE PASTA. OF INTEREST THE PHOTO IS TAKE FROM THE BACK. I WINDER IF THIS REFERS TO A NEW PHOTO GIVEN THE TWO EXCLAMATION MARKS.

little Louis gets a surprise ……………

HAVE THEY TOLD LITTLE LOUIS THAT HE SHALL SOON BE A BIG BROTHER?? I AM TOTALLY ALL IN ON BABY NUMBER FOUR. I KNOW I WAS ALL IN BACK IN NOVEMBER BUT I STILL AM. THE CLUES POINT TO IT.

a well rounded future of three( four) ………

AHA ANOTHER IN YOUR FACE CLUE. CATHERINE’S TUMMY HAS ROUNDED, I WONDER IF THAT IS THE OHOTO SPOKEN OF, A SELF PORTRAIT OF HER AND HER BABY BUMP. YEP NUMBER FOUR IS BREWING AWAY. WE HAVE ONKY SEEN HER FOR WEEKS FROM NECK UP. THE LAST TIME WE SAW HER WAS THE HONOURING NHS CLAPPING PHOTO TAKEN AT AMNER HALL.

A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

BIRTHDAY TIK TOK DANCE FOR GAN GAN. HMTQ WANTS CATHERINE AND THE CHILDREN FOR SURE TO COME UP TO BALMORAL AS WELL. SAYING NICE CHANGE IN ROUTINE. HMTQ COMMENDING CATHERINE ON THE WORK SHE AND WILLIAM ARE DOING. WILLIAM IS ANSWERING GEORGE WHO WANTS SOME FOOTBALL.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[minniepetals]

feelings of doubt

— request: I’m weak for your poly bangtan scenarios :’) Could you do a poly scenario where you get into a fight with the boys but with a happy ending? Thank you💗

— paring: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, angst, poly!au

— word count: 1.3k

— warnings: none

"Why am I the one in the wrong?" 

"It's been weeks, Y/N," Yoongi stressed, voice carrying out of anger since the past few minutes the fight had escalated into a more heated argument. The problem wasn't exactly your fault but clearly they only saw what you had done wrong instead of reflecting on themselves, or rather, they just didn't realize that they too had been hurting you. 

"You haven't been around for weeks, why do you think we're upset?"

"Oh, so finally you notice my lack of presence after two weeks?" You scoffed at Yoongi's words, crossing your arm against your chest and refusing to back down even though it was seven against one. You weren't going to apologize nor were you going to cry. 

You couldn't, you shouldn't.

"Of course we noticed before this," Taehyung claimed. "But we decided to give you space because you looked like you needed."

You scoffed at the excuse. "So you thought giving me space was the answer to solve our problems? You thought I didn't wanted those comforts or needed a hug once in a while?"

"Clearly not because you're hanging out with other people now," Jungkook argued.

You stared at him for a quick second, feeling even more dejected and hurt. "I can't believe you just said that," you breathed. "You don't trust me anymore, is that what is it? Is that why we're having this conversation right now? Because you haven't seen enough of me and think I'm out trying to grab the attention of other men?"

"You're giving us the doubt, Y/N," Jin stated, agreeing with Jungkook's words. "You've been distancing yourself so much lately."

"What if we did that?" Jimin added in. "What if one day we come home and you see us dreading just coming back to this place and we begin to distance ourselves from you? How would you feel?" 

"You'd feel hurt," Hoseok answered for you. "You'd feel like we no longer need you and start to doubt our feelings."

Furrowing your brows as you felt the tears beginning to form, you quickly blinked them away to make you look stronger than what you were feeling at the moment. They were doubting your feelings for them and you couldn't help but feel as if the relationship was about to fall apart. "I don't need to worry about that because you guys are always around each other," you mumbled a little softer than the voice you had been using. 

"What does that have to do with this?" Hoseok asked.

"It has everything to do with it!" you cried and this time your tears had actually broken down the walls and raining down your cheeks. Everything froze at the moment and no one spoke a word. The only thing that was heard was your shaky breathing as you made eye contact with each one of them before averting your gaze away. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort, you stared down at the floor, hoping they wouldn't see the tears that was now falling down fast. 

"Haven't you tried to consider my feelings in this?" You hinted, voice starting crack and you just felt like breaking down but knew the fight needed to get resolved otherwise misunderstandings would only make things worse. "Don't you think I'm hurting too?" 

You took a deep, shaky breath, and was ready to start explaining your point of view. "You came back from tour four months ago. The first couple of days were great, everything resumed to normal and I was happy waking up to see your faces greeting me each morning. But then things began to change when news of the next album was to be finished in a few months. 

"I understand your love for music, for your jobs as idols and for the crave to satisfy armys and bang pd, and I understand that you won't always be around for me. I understood that the second I agreed to the relationship." You paused, giving your words a little more thought as they all patiently waited to hear everything you had to say. 

"But don't you think it gets a little hard for me?" You asked softly. "I knew what I was getting into but I love you all so I didn't wanted to give that up. I know how great your passion is for music, but lately I've been feeling as if you're forgetting I'm even in this relationship. You guys always have each other to turn to and it hurts me because whenever I come home, there's no one to greet me and pull me into a hug when I need the comforting. 

"You're all locked up at Bighit, staying there for the longest time and forgetting the fact that I'm eating alone and going to bed alone. I know I don't have talent in the music field but I miss it, you know? Like when you used to let me listen to your soundtracks, or let me see your dance moves or invite me to play games with you, or just the fact that I was there by your side." You sniffed softly, still refusing to look at them as you wiped your own tears away. "And it makes me question whether I even matter in this big relationship anymore."

"Of course you matter in this relationship." At Hoseok's words and him pulling you close against him, you began to break down even more. The tears fell down nonstop yet he was there to hold you closely. That was what you missed the most, them being there for you when you were at your most vulnerable self. "You will always matter to us, Y/N."

"I'm so scared," you sobbed. 

"Everything will be alright," Namjoon assured as they all gathered around you. Gently, he reached out to tuck some strands of hair behind your ear, revealing your face clouding with sadness. "We're here for you," he said, cringing at how wet your cheeks were combined with your red eyes of tears. 

"Gosh, we're so sorry for making you feel like this," Taehyung apologized. "Sometimes we forget the fact that we get to see your beautiful face when we wake up or come back home from a long day of work, thinking everything is still blissful and happy because you'll always be there, and we forget that you don't get to experience that same assuring feeling."

"We're so sorry for doubting you," Yoongi said. "We wanted to just talk things out, fix the misunderstanding by trying to understand you but," he sighed, "I don't know where things went wrong."

"I think it just escalated with the frustrations because we all just miss each other so much," Jimin opined and you could honestly agree to that.

"We should had just tried to see your perspective in this rather than assuming things," Jungkook said, nibbling on his lower lip out of guilt. 

Jin nodded, agreeing. "Things would had been much better if we had just asked what was wrong."

"I should had said something about it instead of keeping it bottled up inside," you sniffed. "I'm sorry too."

"I think we're all at fault here," Namjoon noted sadly. "But you know that we love you, right?" 

Staring back at him, your lips pressed together. "Do you?" 

Chorus of yeses all came out at once at your question and Hoseok pulled you in tighter, letting his chin rest atop your head. "Gosh, of course we love you, that's out of the question." After saying so, the man pulled away slightly to hold your face in the palm of his hands as he stared at you with a soft loving gaze. "I should remind you everyday so you'd never forget, huh?"

You smiled. "You should."

"I love you," Hoseok said at your request then planted a delicate kiss on your forehead. 

"I love you too," you answered before turning to the others. "I love all of you."

"We love you too, Y/N. Always," they promised.

[sukorage]

Not Alone - Chapter 1-

I do not own Youjo Senki or any of the LN.

Chapter 1

Unified Year 1924

'Everything is going according to plan!' Thought a small girl no older than 10 years old.

'All that's left to do is to use signaling theory to show my human resources value and it's off to the elite track!' Smiling while going to her seat at the front.

"I'm telling you Captain Uger! You don't need to worry about me I am capable and responsible enough to take care of myself."

Tanya looked to the entrance where Captain Maximilian Johann von Uger was having a conversation with a boy inches taller than herself. She guessed she shouldn't be suprised the Empire was a militaristic nation there was bound to be recruits that are the same age as she is but what she didn't expect is to see one of those young recruits in the War College.

Captain Uger put his hands on his hips and sighed "I know that, I just can't believe that you're here as young as you are." Captain Uger said clearly distressed.

"And why not? I even have the paperwork and the letter belonging from command that I am to be transferred to continue my studies in the War College." the unnamed boy said irritated, then he took a deep breath, "Look we'll talk more about this later let's just go to our seats."

Tanya was confused, what is his relationship with Captain Uger to speak to him so informally like that. The boy had black hair standing at a height of 5'1 inches with a standard officer uniform with patches that give evidence that he is a 1st Lieutenant in the Imperial Army with computation orb that looks exactly like the standard computation orb but instead of the orb being crimson it was colored a dull gray, It looked as if it was somewhat incomplete.

Tanya's eyes widened,'A new model perhaps?' she couldn't believe he got permission to develop another one. She subconsciously stared at the unnamed boy thinking that she was doing a great job not to get noticed, little did she know that the boy in question noticed the stare and gave no reaction to it.

She then after a few seconds averted her eyes and sat straight up eagerly waiting for the class to start and everything after that was a blur.

"Haah…." a boy in a standard 1st Lieutenant uniform sighed.

His name was Viktor Aurick Uger, like Tanya he was also what the upper brass called a 'prodigy', he graduated early from the OCS and was sent to be a test subject for a sister project for the Elinium T-95. Dr. Adelheid von Schugel had asked for him because the normal computation orbs was very incompatible and hard to control for his formulas which always baffled others, he could do the basic things but it felt like the damn things were sucking him dry.

They had thought that the prototype orb can fix the problem but alas the T-95 still has the same results even after it being much more advanced. The higher ups since then had halted his tests on the orb other than for Tanya because for some odd reason she was the only one capable of using it without it blowing up, but he wasn't going to complain, the scientist had a few loose screws in his head. It was only an accident that he had come across this orb or as the doctor put it a 'failed' project.

It wasn't even suppose to work according to him since it lacked the essentials, It baffled the doctor that he was able to even use it at all and had tried to get him to stay for more research but the request for transfer was already accepted and since they couldn't explain why the said failed orb worked so well with him, and he couldn't use other orbs without him getting tired, and for a lack of a better alternative, they had given him the orb on the pretense that it was getting a field test.

He was currently lounging around in the Military Academy Library sitting on a chair next to the tables provided inside, ever since he was given the go ahead to leave the testing grounds and go and study in the War College, his days has become too monotonous in his opinion.

"Hnngh!….. Hnnngh!" The sound of someone struggling enters his ears.

"Hm?" He looks around until he spots a girl no older than he is and saw what she was doing or at least trying to do.

After watching her struggling for a minute he sighed and got up and borrowed a stepping block to try and give her a hand.

"It seems like you need a little help."

"Huh?" Her eyebrows furrowed with disapproval.

Viktor sighed once again.

"You don't need to give me that look, Here." He gently places the stepping block next to the bookcase.

The girl kept her eyes narrowed at him and gave a huff.

"Thanks..."

"Ah, so you can talk." He scoffed.

"Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"No no! my apologies, My Names Viktor Aurick Uger, A First Lieutenant Mage in the Imperial Army."

She raised a brow "Very well, my name is Tanya Degurechaff , A First Lieutenant just like you." Without skipping a beat she used the stepping block to better reach the book she was earlier trying to reach. "We seem to be almost the same age but I do not recall you being in the OCS."

He gave a half-smile " Ha ha...ha, Well you see I graduated early and was sent to a lab to test out a prototype orb under the Chief Engineer." he blanched when he recalled the excited voice of Dr. Schugel, as much as the project gave him an edge to use in the battlefield, The old man was strange to say the least.

"The prototype orb being the Elinium T-95?"

"Yes that is correct, In fact I was chosen to test it before you came along, I'm glad you made it out that crazy doctor's lab in one piece."

Her whole face lit up "Right! That crazy scientist almost blew me up several times!" Finally someone other than her knew of the crazy the empire's Chief Engineer has regarding his inventions! "Wait, how did you get away from him then? they denied my transfer several times!"

Viktor was surprised by her change in attitude and answered quickly, " Well about that, my uncle pulled some strings after I had informed him of the impossibility of what the scientist was asking of me, it also helped that you were there to take my place." His voice becoming a whisper at the end of the sentence.

"What!?" She screamed surprising everyone present in the library. 'Damn it! I wish I had the same connections as he did, It would have saved me from a lot of trouble.' she thought as she bit her lip in frustration.

He grimaced, "Yeah, I got really lucky." he explained slightly remembering the scientist blabbering something about God while doing so.

"Anyway enou-" He was about to say before being interrupted.

"Ah, First Lieutenant Viktor, what a surprise."

Viktor looked behind him and saw Vice Director Zettour

He was surprised but still promptly saluted "General!"

Tanya was also momentarily surprised and saluted.

"I-I'm sorry General my name's Tanya Degurechaff a first lieutenant mage in the Imperial Army." Tanya nervously said.

"At ease both of you."

Both 10 year old gave a sigh of relief.

Zettour chuckled " I did not think you both would be having a rendezvous in this isolated part of the library, what would your uncle say Viktor."

Tanya had a bitter look on her face while Viktor face flushed red.

"What?! N-no sir you've got it all wrong I was jus-" Viktor tried to explain while Tanya just opted to just stay quiet in the sidelines with her head lowered, one could see her eye twitching if they stared long enough but she opted to hide it since it would be a bad first introduction to the general.

"Don't worry I'm just joking, I've known about Viktor since he was first put into OCS, but you however Tanya in particular has been quite busy I hear." He then smiled, "If both of you aren't in a hurry could you both come with me?"

"Yes sir! with pleasure!" Saluted Viktor with a little less enthusiasm than he would have liked and with Tanya saluting with the still bitter look on her face.

"What could he possibly want with us?"

Viktor mused as he followed Brigadier General Hans Von Zettour silently. He then looked to his right, walking alongside him was Tanya, despite the situation earlier she was now inexplicably smiling while following their superior.

'What the hell is up with this girl?' he thought, A little bit creeped out by the smile she was now wearing, though that thought was interrupted when the stopped walking.

"We've arrived, Come in." Zettour invited both Tanya and Viktor as he opened the door.

As both Viktor and Tanya entered they took note of the room. It was spacious, it had bookshelves filled with books on each side of the room and had a desk with chairs at both sides with the window directly behind it providing sufficient lighting inside. 'A perfect place to have a conversation you wouldn't want anyone else to overhear' Viktor thought.

Zettour then proceeded to walk behind the desk to look outside the window, Looking outside he saw citizens drinking at the local pub like it would be their last, they were obviously in high spirits, be it because of the current situation of the war or whatsoever.

Zettour hummed, then proceeded to speak "Be seated, Both of you."

"Yes sir! excuse us." Viktor and Tanya both spoke with the latter being more enthusiastic.

Viktor proceeded to take a seat with Tanya taking the vacant chair to his left, he gave her a sideways glance but the girl paid him no mind. A moment passed, the atmosphere suddenly became a little uneasy.

It was then that Zettour lay the first stone. "What are your thoughts on the war?" Zettour suddenly asked.

In the army, superiors appreciates those who will discuss in complete detail and report in often, So it's better to ask if you don't know what they're talking about for better clarification.

This applies to what the was asking of them, the question was too broad to even think of an answer immediately. There would be too many factors that one would have to think about. Viktor was about to speak his mind but the girl beside him beat him to the punch.

With determined eyes Tanya spoke. "With all due respect , your question is too broad." she opined.

Viktor's eyes widened by a small amount for a mere second but then relaxed and a smile danced on his lips. 'Let's see how this plays out.' he mused. He did not want to cut in if he doesn't need to. He was certain this was just how the General , tests the waters as one could assume, He leaned back into his chair and watched the two continue.

Zettour released a breath, He then turned to take a seat opposite from the two in front of him.

"Yes, you are right. Let me ask this in another way. What kind of form do you think this war will take?"

"Sir, I think this is beyond our pay grade to even comment on."

It was true, She would need to abstain from saying anything past her power. Like how the Personnel Department shouldn't remark on operational issues, the Operations Department shouldn't meddle with the undertakings of staff matters. Anyway, the point is to know one's own limits on authority. He looked to the with narrowed eyes 'What's your game, Old Man?' he thought.

Zettour looked at the girl. "It's fine. You may speak freely." he stated resting his hands now crossed on the desk.

"As you wish then." Tanya relented.

Viktor let out a quiet chuckle, it would be rude for her to continue refusing to answer. Humans have two ears and one mouth, which meant that if someone was willing to listen, you just need to use one mouth. Even though it was possible to communicate by stating the minimum amount of words, communication was impossible without first opening your mouth.

"I would like to think that this war could develop into something akin to a Great War." Tanya answered.

This seemed to have caught Zettour's interest. "A Great War you say?" He spoke waiting eagerly for Tanya to continue her prediction.

Viktor could see where she was going with this, by common sense, he could see how this would develop into a world war. As the immense countries battle each other for power, and every one of the nations would need to go hard and fast.

Tanya then proceeded to explain on how this would happen, starting from how the other great nations would start lending a hand, Be it volunteers or equipment under the guise of nice mediators. Even if the Empire would have a crushing victory over the Republic it would not be long before a joint interference from other nations will become inevitable.

"If that was the case, we should follow history and try to make early talks with the surrounding nations, if still possible. But the top most priority should be minimizing the empire's losses." Tanya finished with a satisfied smile.

"So in other words, you wouldn't try to win? your words might make others suspect your reason to fight." Zettour stated with a slightly disapproving tone.

A moment passed and Viktor could only hold his amusement. The girl's facial expression immediately changed, gone was the satisfied smile and in place the girl beside him was wide-eyed and had beads of sweat trailing down the side of her face. This brought a smirk to his face. 'She dug her own grave.' Viktor thought. 'How will you reason your way out of this, I wonder.'

"I-It might seem like that, on the off chance that you take the statement as it is. In any case, it doesn't mean we don't look for triumph in the war." she assured him.

"Do continue." urged Zettour.

Tanya continued to suggest that a combination of defensive infantry tactics with the mages operating with offensive strategies in order to tire out the enemy resources. When Viktor heard her idea he was amazed, He couldn't refute that it was a good idea. But with it there are some problems.

Viktor thought it was now a good time to join in the conversation. "You forgot one thing though, even if we did get approval from the operations department. Mages like us aren't exactly in abundance." Viktor opined. "And we aren't exactly the type of units fit to hold ground, if you haven't noticed." he proceeds to put his fingers on his chin as if he was deep in thought.

Tanya looked at the boy beside her and gave a rather intense glare, to which Viktor was unfazed."Unless..." He closed his eyes and after a pause his eyes widened. "Do you plan to use the mages to thin out the enemy soldiers, for our men in the ground to have an easier time in the battle?" inquired Viktor. 'But it still doesn't resolve the problem of where we can get the extra mages, The north and west front are strained enough as it is.'

"Yes, that is exactly right." She kept her glare, she wanted so hard for this wanna be to shut the hell up right now, but kept her cool as she didn't want to leave a bad impression on the General.

Zettour paused seemingly contemplating the idea and after a few seconds spoke. "I'll look into it, you go on ahead and file a formal request. I have some business to talk to about with First Lieutenant Viktor."

"Yes sir!" Tanya then promptly stood up and saluted, then proceeded to head out of the room giving a sideways glance at Viktor and Zettour. As soon as the door closed Viktor spoke his mind. "You're not seriously thinking about going through with this plan, are you sir?"

"Why not? It sounds like a brilliant plan"

"The north and west probably don't have any mages they can spare, as for the east... well I don't think their mages are up to par since they rarely don't get the combat experience as the east is really quiet right now." Viktor trailed off. The east has no ongoing conflicts right now, so the troops stationed there would not have the experience that the troops have in the north or in the west.

"While you do make good points I ask that you leave that to me and the general staff, let's talk about something else." Zettour leaned into his chair and crossed his arms. "What do you think of her?"

"Her?" Viktor knew what the General was referring to but opted to ask just in case, It was an out of the blue question after all.

"Tanya Von Degurechaff."

Viktor seemed to contemplate on the question that was asked of him for a couple of moments, but in all honestly he couldn't really give an opinion on what he thought about her.

"Sir, I don't believe you'll hear anything different from what the others has already told you." he told the old General, both children haven't got time to reacquaint themselves. Their first meeting was just earlier in the library after all.

"Don't you share the same lectures?" asked Zettour, "I would have thought both of you would have been friends by now."

Viktor cringed at that, just because they were the same age doesn't mean they'll get along. And from how she acts she might as well be someone as old as his uncle."She is rather.." said Viktor trying to think of a word, "unapproachable."

Zettour chuckled at this.

"Nevertheless, do your best to be in good terms with 1st Lieutenant Degurechaff, It might be beneficial for the both of you from now on. Dismissed." After giving some parting advice, Zettour dismissed the young 1st Lieutenant, he could see the look of confusion on the boy's face but nevertheless he saluted the general and excused himself out of the room.

After the door closes, Zettour turned his chair and leaned into it while proceeding to light up a cigar and looking outside the window.

"Beneficial indeed."