#which gives her the opportunity to save herself from a darker path BUT puts a target on their back even before they botch a job.

[oopsallmabari]

pia is my one non-circle mage oc (I don't think calling them a hedge mage or an apostate is as useful even though it's technically correct-they were never trained in a circle but I think the crow's perspective on magic probably isn't completely divorced from andrastianism, even if they don't really have templars. now I'm thinking abt crows potentially calling in templars/training some mage handlers in templar-like abilities to handle mage fledglings that are too dangerous to continue training...hm)

but all that to say I realized she's my only mage who hasn't gone through a Harrowing! but they have an experience that's...close enough...to prove she's not susceptible to posession. at some point before being promoted to full assassin pia gets veerrrry pissed off at some of the other fledglings (baby pia is a very easy target for bullies) and it reminds her of her general anger at the situation she's in (leashed to the crows w no other real connections) and nearly burns down a building/invites in a rage demon. one of the handlers calms them down and they learn better control but i do think that's the moment they...lock their own cage, so to speak.

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Game Review - A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Before diving into the meat of Oracle and Bone’s A Summer’s End, I want to talk about the women behind this game Tida Kietsungden, and Charissa So. So and Kietsungden have done nothing but impress me since the announcement of A Summer’s End. They have repeatedly demonstrated their immense effort and dedication to creating a beautiful and thoughtful experience. Through conversations with the studio and reading their blog entries, I gained a remarkable understanding of how this game is both a tribute to classic cinema and a love letter to the Yuri and LGBT community. Through careful research and thoughtful expression, the two women navigate and acknowledge complicated issues, including Asian LGBTQ history and Hong Kong’s delicate political situation with grace and maturity. I am in complete awe of both women and their work. However, regardless of my profound respect for these creators, I still endeavor to offer my unfiltered thoughts on the visual novel, giving praise and criticism where appropriate.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a Yuri visual novel set, as you may have figured out, in Hong Kong in the year 1986. The game follows a young office worker, Michelle (Fong Ha) Cheung, who has a chance encounter with a free-spirited woman named Sam (Ka Yan) Wong. Both women feel drawn to each other, and the game explores this mutual attraction and the budding relationship which emerges from it.

This plot follows the standard girl meets girl story that has permeated the Yuri genre for the past several decades. Like most Yuri stories, the older and more experienced woman, Sam, is rebellious and beautiful, with long dark hair and a dominating persona. Michelle, although far more naive in the ways of love, breaks the trend of this trope by being the more sullen of the two. I would have liked to see the game diverge a bit more from the standard story of the genre. Fortunately, A Summer’s End is a romance story between adults who do not work together, setting it apart from the norms. It even includes a coming out section that creates a more robust LGBT identity than any tale of temporary schoolgirl love.

The story is well put together and well presented. The story is told primarily from Michelle’s perspective. It mostly takes place over a few days, during which Michelle engages in a whirlwind romance with Sam. This story features the struggle between her feelings and passion and her devotion to tradition and her mother. The progression of her affection is unrealistically fast. The story feels a bit rushed, and many of the societal and personal quagmires the game stumbles upon are not sufficiently developed or confronted. Had the game indulged in a more prolonged and tumultuous struggle for Michelle, conclusions would have felt much sweeter, and the story would have gone from good to great.

Even with this massive missed opportunity, there are plenty of exemplary moments and aspects of the narrative. The game pulls no punches addressing Michelle’s slightly overbearing mother and the conflict between the two. It would have been incredibly simple to take the easy route on this one. Still, the developers stuck to their guns and manage to explore a challenging situation satisfyingly, all while keeping the characters realistic and sympathetic. In fact, every scene relating to LGBT rights and history is flawlessly executed.

There are also some fantastic chapters, including a thrilling but refreshing bike ride and a flashback scene that recontextualizes certain events from another perspective. The many references and allusions to classic cinema including some older lesbian films and plenty of Asian works, are particularly noteworthy. However, the best part of A Summer’s End by far is the setting.

The location and time period is intrinsic to Sam and Michelle’s tale, as it is shaped by and reflects contemporary culture and LGBTQ rights. Oracle and Bone create a vibrant and lively world, a jaw-dropping depiction of Hong Kong in the 1980s. Everything helps feed into the creation of this world, including a fantastic and retro UI, small touches such as a Cantonese subway announcement, and objects encountered like a disposable camera help convey a strong sense of the period. However, the soundtrack sells it more than any other element, save perhaps the artwork, transporting the player to the era. While a few tracks are the standard easy listening affairs one expects from visual novels, there are tons of excellent city pop and disco beats, complete with plenty of synths and confidence! Finally, a visual novel soundtrack that contributes more than just background noise!

Sadly, the game’s dialogue choice system and branching paths are far more of a hindrance than a help. I can honestly say that the game would play better and be way more enjoyable as a kinetic novel. Most choices feel inconsequential, changing nothing of the story and resulting in almost the exact same response from other characters yet, they have a hidden points system. If you do not earn enough points, parts of the optional adult content will be unplayable until one goes back to find the right choice. I spent several hours replaying, and eventually skipping through, the game to unlock all the scenes, and finally gave up with one CG left unseen. The only choice with any actual effect is painfully evident in its consequences. One option leads to the bad ending, which is well written, but no reasonable player would go down that path unless they just wanted to see the whole game. The second unveils the true good ending, which no player in their right mind would not pursue, as again, the choice is obvious and adds nothing to the game. There is no reason to put in an alternative ending or tedious dialogue choice.

The characters in A Summer’s End are well constructed. Sam is adventurous without being obnoxious and has a mature though appropriately unrefined demeanor. Michelle is extremely curt and somewhat distant, although she displays a sharp wit and more timid nature on occasion. Both women participate in engaging, deep, and thoughtful discussions, often with each other, although sometimes internally, and thus feel well developed and complex. Unfortunately, their chemistry, while not absent, is not enough to sell the whirlwind romance. There is insufficient expression of their feelings and attractions, both internally or through dialogue and actions, so their inevitable closeness feels unearned.

However, even in the short game, both characters change with each other, especially Michelle, as she becomes more affectionate, confident, and caring. She begins to embody some of Sam’s warmness while never losing herself. Some of my favorite dialogue and interaction came from her towards the end of the game, although I will not spoil it. Additionally, side characters have a strong presence thanks to their firmly established characteristics and a profound effect on the narrative. Each has their own sprite and mannerisms, helping cement them as fixtures in A Summer’s End rather than tacked on assets.

The visual novel contains optional adult content, which is installed in an extra patch and can be toggled on and off. I played through the game with and without it and can happily report that the story is just as fulfilling and complete without it. Although the unlockable nature of these scenes is aggravating, they are very well written and sensual without being exploitative. There were moments I did not care for as much, such as Sam getting carried away at one point, but it felt very realistic and incredibly sensual. The artwork in these sexual encounters is some of the best in the game, embracing darker colors and showcasing intense desire.

Speaking of the artwork, it is stupendous. The game is bright and striking, with amazing backgrounds complete with luminous neon signs, glaring televisions, and life and activity oozing from every corner. The backgrounds are so beautiful and detailed they could effectively serve in place of CG art, although there is plenty of that asides. The character models and designs are similarly excellent, with expressive poses and faces. The various outfits, of which the game has many, embody iconic 80’s fashion. Artist Tida Kietsungden draws both the characters and CGs with a distinctive hand-drawn style, which allows them to play well off each other and add to the beautiful presentation. The detail and care that went into the aesthetics are enormous and elevate the game at every moment. 

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a vibrant and intimate experience. The fantastic setting and flawless artwork surround a compelling and thoughtful story about lesbian love and desire, societal expectations, and the bonds between family and lovers. It is rough around the edges, with a slightly rushed story that leaves little time to wallow in complexity and an awful dialogue system. However, it will win players over with its striking presentation and sophisticated subject matter. I look forward to more from this studio and highly recommend you check this game out!

Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 6 Art – 10 Music – 8 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 3 (8 with patch) Final – 7

Purchase A Summer’s End on Steam and itch.io, available April 23

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[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

Chapter Twenty Two

Tender sun rays whisked Eden’s cheeks soothingly.

Through closed eyelids, she could still feel the light beaming through the glass window; washing over everything in the room; including her physiognomy. Her arm extended against the mattress; as though she was blindly searching for the contact of cool skin under her fingertips.

But, all she did was graze over the washed out duvet cover. Blinking rapidly, she carefully slipped her eyes open, arching her back as she stretched- like a slender cat equipping herself for a heavy day out on the cobbled streets of Trost.

She had memorized the room’s layout all too well; every single detail etching itself into the back of her brain as she recollected the heated position she had been placed in by Captain Levi. Gingerly, Eden pressed her fingertips against her lips; the taste of him still lingering, the softened flesh cracked and bruised.

According to her muddled up thoughts; she had passed out in the bed after being gifted with the carnal opportunity of kissing Captain Ackerman. The thought of his blown-out pupils gazing down at her in such a wanton way made heat rush through her body like adrenaline; despite the fact that she had only just woken up a few minutes prior.

The harnesses lay draped over the armchair; her body clothed with just her shirt and her pants. Eden was way too anxious to remove her clothing during the night; afraid that Levi’s glinting, silver eyes would scorch her body and she’d give in way too easily.

Resting her back against the headboard; she looked through the window with a blank look painted on her face; her knees pressed against her chest. She wondered where he had gone; whether he regretted it all, whether he wanted more.

Whether he was feeling the same way she was.

The front door creaked open and the sound of boots resonated through the spacious room. Eden’s eyes flitted towards the motion; only to be met with Levi’s uniformed back as he moved to close the door behind him.

Once he turned back in her direction; his eyes widened at the feline look that bore through him. He had two teacups in his hand; the steam grazing across his palms as it ascended out from the liquid.

“I brought you tea.” Levi spoke first in a low voice as he stalked across the room; gently handing Eden one of the teacups before lowering himself to sit beside her.

“Thank you,” she replied, shyly accepting the beverage with an unsteady hand and flustered cheeks. Levi regarded her intently through hooded eyes as her lips pressed against the orifice of the cup.

The tea was sweet and fruity- almost floral. Her stomach flipped when Levi rested his hand on the top of her knee.

Putting the teacup back onto the saucer resting on the nightstand; Eden perked up against the headboard, amber eyes glued to dull leaden-blue ones. His hand began trailing up her thigh. Her lungs begged for air as her heart grew stuck in her throat; lips parting slightly.

“I liked watching you struggle under me last night,” Levi breathed out; the hand on her thigh growing stronger. His words were like molten lava flaming her entire body up.

Levi swiftly used the grip on her body to pull her downwards, her head falling back into the pillows. Within a matter of seconds, he moved his body to tower over her, the darkened glint in his eyes revealing carnal fantasies making Eden’s own eyes widen. His knee pressed in between her legs as he lowered his head; promptly capturing her lips with his. She hissed at the sensation of his knee brushing against her; her arms snaking around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

His lips were gentler as opposed to the kisses he had peppered her with the night before. They were silky and smooth; but sharp enough to slice through the built-up tension in the room. Letting out a low, guttural groan, Eden’s body arched into him as his hand roamed her body over her clothes. His fingertips dragged painfully slowly over the curve of her breast, following the path along her slender waist before finally settling to squeeze her hip.

Eden let out another softened mewl against his lips when his own hips brushed against hers and his kisses grew more brutal. Her sweet sounds caused the Captain to hiss in pleasure against her lips; teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

“You’re being a tease,” the girl groaned as he sucked on her lip, a subdued growl reverberating out of him as he slipped his eyes shut.

“Where’s the pleasure in the lack of torture, brat?” His cool fingers raked through her hair before tucking on the locks lightly; causing her chin to jut out to the side. He used her angled head to kiss her neck; deeply enjoying the way Eden’s eyes fluttered closed, her fingers gliding over his sharp undercut.

Eden felt like time was slipping through her fingers in such a rapid pace. It was like the next breath she took was about an hour later; when both her and  the Captain’s lips were bruised and swollen.

He left her to change in peace and as Eden clasped the hook of her green cape around her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses once more. Every little flicker of her eye, every pant she took, every sensation that garnished her fingertips caused her to immediately think back to him.

She had never known what the term ‘forbidden fruit’ had meant until she was met with Levi’s cold lips.

Much to her surprise, Levi had offered to take her out on a tour around Trost. Albeit the painful memories of her first battle within this district playing out behind her eyes; she accepted, listening intently to the way the Captain informed her about another, undisclosed task that was hushed-up between himself and Commander Erwin.

Walking side-by-side, Eden refrained from asking why he had made her wait for him outside a sketchy pub. He came back out hastily, his eyes disinterested and narrowed- the clench of his jaw revealing that whomever he had met with inside the establishment, had also left him with a bitter taste on his tongue.

The passers stole nervous glances at the two soldiers; but neither of them paid any attention as they walked along the paved streets of the busy district.

“I remember this area. I believe this was the place you and I met for the first time,” Eden broke the comfortable silence, extending an arm to indicate the familiar rooftop from which she had sprinted off in order to save her friends from an impending death during the Battle of Trost.

Levi’s eyes flickered towards the highlighted region before letting out an agitated sigh, his eyes shifting away quickly. “Yes. I had only known you for perhaps less than thirty seconds and your temerity managed to piss me off beyond anything.”

Eden huffed under her breath, running a hand through her hair in irritation. She didn’t know what had possessed her to loop an arm around his when he quickened his pace.

But, she couldn’t ignore the way Levi’s body stiffened. His steps grew slower and the way they walked so close to one another caused their capes to mangle and brush with each step.

They strode back towards the lodging; but Levi redirected their strides in a different direction. It was narrow, colder and darker than the sunny, open streets they had previously walked through.

“A shortcut,” was all he had said in response to the quizzical look he felt pierce through the side of his face.

Within the darkened alleyway; Eden’s heart began racing as she imagined an opportunity to feel his lips against hers once more arise. As if he could read every single fleeting thought in her head, Levi grabbed the arm laced through his; pressing her up against the cold wall with a thud.

No time was wasted on words as his mouth found hers urgently, as though her lips were the only source of water in the entire district. His palms lay against either side of her face as he drank her in; his body leaning against hers when Eden’s knees threatened to give out. Her nails dragged against the path of his neck as she called for him softly, her brows laced together revealing just how much pleasure Levi’s touch was bringing her.

Her tongue dragged itself against his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness of the tea he was previously drinking. There was something about the way Levi’s lips tasted that left Eden feeling utterly intoxicated.

The Captain pulled away from her swiftly, his breathing unsteady, his pupils blown out. His lips curled up lightly in a wicked smirk as he watched Eden’s messed-up persona- her mangled locks, parted lips and drunken look on her face.

“Don’t you think your disheveled appearance calls for punishment, brat?” Levi’s dull voice rippled through the silence, causing Eden to straighten up and arch a brow at him.

She glided her palms over her uniform, clearing her throat under his scrutinizing stare. “What happens when my appearance is solely caused by your doings, Captain?”

The smirk deepened, the twitches in his jaw visible in the darkness and he stepped forward, brushing his fingers through her hair.

Shoving the strands behind her ear, he leaned in, the sensation of his iced lips scraping her ear sending chills along the path of her spine. “That means you have no one to go sob to if I ever decide to discipline you for it, Chiasa.”

Riding back to the Headquarters was comforting. They eased into a relaxing conversation and Eden’s cheeks would flush ever so often. Her horse stood galloping within close proximity to the Captain's and the glacier winds grazed her face, numbing it completely.

“You can be honest and admit to enjoying my company, Captain,” Eden asserted through a large grin, the corners of her amber eyes crinkling when Levi glanced in her direction.

“Tch,” he scoffed, but his somewhat nonchalant mask revealed how unbothered he was by her playful demeanor. “If you’re just trying to rank up by messing around with your Captain, that’s not how it works, brat.”

His snarky response caught the girl off-guard and she let out a high-pitched, sheepish laugh. Levi’s head snapped back towards her; staring at her in wonder. This was perhaps the first time Eden had let out a hearty, full and raw laugh.

She cringed at herself, lowering her head, allowing her hair to curtain her blazing cheeks.

“But, we do make a good team,” Levi spoke once more, easing his horse into a slower gallop as soon as its pants began ringing through the wilderness.

“Oh? I apologize for the confusion, but was that a compliment?” Eden inquired, finally lifting her head after taming the blossoming blush that had engraved itself into her skin.

The Captain hummed flatly over the clattering sound of hooves. After a long pause, his deep voice asserted itself into the space between them. “Take it as you will. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you stopped doubting everything I say to you.”

Eden chewed on her bottom lip as she listened to his voice. It was like she was in trance, afraid to think about how quickly she’d agree to any sort of order Levi sends her way.

Lost in the vortex of her thoughts, the girl nearly missed the words that slipped through his lips.

Nearly.

“I don’t like seeing you with Kirstein.”

It was so out of the blue, Eden couldn’t respond to him immediately. Silence settled around them as the sun slowly began descending into its usual space for slumber. 

“What do you mean?” Her eyes were trained ahead of her, her knuckles growing white as the palms holding onto her horse’s reins became increasingly dampened with sweat. 

“It’s hard to believe you’re actually this dense, Eden,” Levi countered, his own knuckles growing paler as he finally urged his horse to gallop faster. Eden followed him, trying her best to match his pace. 

“Anyway,” he continued coolly, the shift in his demeanor causing Eden to physically become overwhelmed with dread. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Jean is just a friend,” she replied in irritation, very much aware of the way his head craned back towards her, eyes narrowed and filled with displeasure. 

“Didn’t seem like that when I caught you two in the stables. Or when I came to visit you in the infirmary...-”

“I’ll have you know, Captain,” she sliced through his words, lucid rage overwhelming her as each syllable trickled out of his mouth.

“Jean and I are just friends. Yes, we’ve had our moments, but that was it. Just moments. And when you saw him with me in the medical quarters; it’s because he came to tell me he couldn’t do anything with me anymore. He also let me in on the fact that it was not his name I called out when he saved me from the titan...it was yours.” She took a deep breath before her furrowed brows raised. “Still feeling jealous?” 

He didn’t respond. In fact, Levi didn’t even look at her. His gaze was focused straight ahead at the forthcoming sight of the familiar trees surrounding their base. 

After a while, all he did was scoff.

Arriving back at the headquarters was very anticlimactic. 

Levi was back to being cold and butthurt and Eden could only seethe in silence. He strapped his horse away in the stables and stalked off, not even shedding Eden a single flicker of eye contact.

Despite the irritation coiling inside her body, the girl continued on with her day as usual- going to greet her friends and spend some time with Sasha and Connie. 

Sometime later in the afternoon, the sensation of overthinking ebbed at her consciousness way too much for her to handle. So, balling her palms into fists, Eden marched towards the Corporal’s office. 

Just as her knuckles were about to rap against his door for the very first time; it creaked open, and she was met with Levi’s widened eyes. 

“Ah. I was just looking for you, brat.” 

She blushed, lashes flickering downwards as the color painted her cheeks sweetly. Following him back inside the office, her stomach was plagued with butterflies that never stopped fluttering around. Levi abruptly spun back to face her; his eyes glinting with a strange flame that lay unknown in Eden’s book. 

“I wanted to give you something,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “Close your eyes.” 

Eden watched at him with wide eyes, unsure as to how she had to react. Levi’s head tilted to the side, the longer strands of raven-hair in sync with his movements. “Do you trust me?” 

She swallowed hard and barely managed to utter out a weak- “Sure?” 

His nod was the last thing she saw before slipping her eyes shut; nervousness overwhelming her. She listened to the way his boots echoed around the office; the sound of a door creaking open. Her palms grew sweaty and her heart was racing. 

His footsteps began growing closer, until she felt his presence burst through her personal space. “Give me your hand,” he instructed her in a creamy smooth tone that sent chills through her bloodstream. 

Eden did exactly that, feeling the way his fingers gripped at her wrist, guiding her hand outwards. She stiffened when her own fingers captured something that had the texture of hardened wood. Pulling her hand away, she jumped back, as though she had been burnt with fire. Levi was watching her intently, a broomstick in hand. 

“Go clean the stables.” 

Her dumbfounded expression was the only thing filling the silence for a very long moment. “Are you being serious right now?” 

Levi cocked a brow as he stepped forward, handing her the broomstick once more. “Am I ever ‘not serious’ about cleaning?” 

With a huff and the clench of her teeth, Eden snatched the broom out of his grasp before stalking out of his office- feeling even more outraged.

Cleaning seemed to do justice to her nerves. Being surrounded by nothing but dirt and things that needed to be organized tended to Eden’s thoughts and slowly she began feeling like each time she straightened out one part of the stables; another slice of her anger wore off somewhere into the distance. 

Not long after, gentle footsteps brushed against the stable floor, a sweet voice pulling Eden out of her daydreams. 

“Mikasa,” she greeted her childhood best friend warmly, walking over to rapidly throw her arms around her. 

The girl returned the sudden embrace before grabbing her by the shoulders, onyx eyes taking in her ragged appearance. 

“What happened? How was the mission?” 

Eden’s ears quickly grew red as she stepped back, nervously laughing. “What do you mean? Everything went fine? Why would you ask me that, heh...” 

Her defensive demeanor did not go unnoticed by the 104th Training Corps’ top soldier who in turn narrowed her eyes at the girl. Mikasa quirked a brow and a low sigh escaped through Eden’s lips. 

“The change of setting was pleasant. Everything went well. But, the man we met with was disgusting. He kept sending the most vile remarks my way; I don’t even wanna think about it. He was just gross.” She cringed at the memory as she spoke.

Mikasa glared at her friend, her arms folding across her chest. “And what? Captain Shorty just stood there and said nothing? Unbelievable...-”

“No no no!” Eden quickly interrupted her, rubbing the back of her neck as her cheeks grew pink. “He was the one who stepped in and warned Reeves not to speak to me like that. It was a nice gesture...” 

The girl opposite her stared into amber eyes, her own black ones widening as she extended one hand to point at her. “What’s with that look on your face, Eden?” 

Eden pursed her lips, trying her best to calm any raging blush that tried settling against her skin. “What look, Mikasa? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Blackened jewels for eyes narrowed even more. “You’re an open book to me; don’t forget that.” 

The sound of approaching boots crunched against the pebbles. Eden frowned deeply and Mikasa turned to glance behind her shoulder. Giving Eden’s arm a gentle squeeze, the female Ackerman gave her a faint smile before stepping away. 

“You’ll tell me about him when you’re ready.” 

Both Ackerman soldiers stiffly nodded as they passed each other. Eden stared at the Captain that inched closer; his bored stare bouncing from one surface to another. She waited for him to say something, but the man took his sweet time checking the stables and her work. 

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally couldn’t take it anymore, her frown carefully turning into a scowl as her eyes followed his moves. 

Levi slowly turned back to face her, his eyes finally resting against the frame of her face. “Yeah. Your cleaning is atrocious. Go over everything again.” 

Eden watched him walk away with her mouth wide open. When she was sure he was definitely out of sight, she swore loudly before kicking a bucket of water across the brushed-out ground. 

Whatever. I gotta redo everything, anyway.

An hour later, he was back. His eyes were a softer shade of grey, but he still maintained his distance, much to Eden’s growing displeasure. 

With a tight nod, Levi approved her cleaning before jutting his chin towards the exit. “Let’s go. We’ll debrief with Commander Erwin.” 

She sulkily followed him out of the stables, albeit the way her heart melted when he sent her a sideways glance that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. 

This time, the Corporal led her into an unfamiliar office. The layout was definitely similar to Levi’s office; but the window behind the desk was larger and grander. Deep down, Eden preferred the comforts of Levi’s meticulously sterilized office more than Erwin’s one. 

The Commander stood to his feet when the pair walked in, brushing Eden’s salute away nonchalantly. His full height intimidated Eden and it took all within her not to visibly shrink in her boots.

“Captain Levi...soldier Chiasa...it’s good to see you’re back. I can safely assume everything went according to plan?” 

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Levi drawled out, scowling deeply at the way Erwin’s lips curved into a impish smirk. Eden chose to look down at her boots as Levi summarized the gist of their assignment to the attentive Commander who had leaned back down into his chair, his elbows resting against the wood of his desk, fingers linked together. 

His brows raised at the mention of Reeves’ attitude towards Eden. “When I send my Scouts out on a mission; I do not intend for such things to happen. However, sometimes it’s inevitable as there are all sorts of animals- not only beyond the walls; but within them too. And for that, I feel the need to apologize to you, Eden.” 

Her cheeks pinkened and she immediately looked down at the floor once more. “I understand that as soldiers, not all situations are pleasant. Regardless of whether it’s during a fight with a titan or when it's just having a simple conversation with a merchant. Thank you, Commander, but you don’t need to apologize. Captain Levi stepped in and put him in his place, anyhow.” 

When Eden looked up, she saw the same devious smirk plastered against Erwin’s features. His ocean eyes glinted under the faint light emitted from the several oil lamps situated around the room. She even got the chance to notice Levi’s sharp glower that was directed towards the blond man.

Erwin nodded and muttered something under his breath, his eyes flickering off the Captain and onto the perplexed girl. “Isn’t that wonderful? Well, thank you for the information and your presence. You’re dismissed, soldier. Levi, please stay behind.” 

Clasping her fist over her heart, Eden bid both men a good evening before walking out of the office hastily. 

Walking through the corridors, her mind couldn’t stop rewinding the look that was carved onto Erwin’s face; the twinkle in his eyes, the stretched out smirk against his lips and the way his eyes kept holding the Corporal’s stare before flickering back to her. 

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast   @hadassackerman

Link to the story in A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 1

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

Chapter by @maerynn-blog​

Gabriel Agreste’s death had been sudden, and unexpected.

Only a few months before the premiere of his first-ever women’s apparel collection, the famous fashion mogul had succumbed to a violent stroke at his home office in the early hours of the morning, apparently while busy reviewing the latest designs that had been submitted to him.

Few could state without lying that they would miss their boss. Gabriel had proven on more than one occasion to be solely driven by results and success, with no consideration whatsoever for his employees. Even fewer could say honestly that they would miss the man, for his late years had only cemented the cold and heartless facade he had forged throughout the years, setting the image of an implacable leader in stone despite himself.

Over the years, he had even alienated his very own son, with whom he had fallen out of touch as soon as Adrien had been old enough to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. Persistent rumours throughout the years suggested that Gabriel had disowned his son as a result of his desertion of the company, but seeing as Adrien found himself the sole owner of Gabriel following his father’s sudden passing, either those rumours were wrong or Gabriel had forgiven his only heir somewhere along the way.

Which could have been fine if the company had been left in capable hands, which, unfortunately, wasn’t the case. Gabriel Agreste had never entrusted anyone with his company’s well-being or any important decision regarding his brand. Even his almost lifelong personal assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur, had been merely blindly obeying orders without ever questioning them for most of her employment with Gabriel, and yet, she probably would’ve been the most qualified person to assure a smooth transition.

Coincidentally, Nathalie had gone into a well-deserved retirement only a few weeks before Gabriel’s ultimate demise, around the same time Gorilla hung up his luxury sedan keys and moved away to the seashore, admittedly to catch up with his growing-too-fast grandkids.

That meant that the week following Gabriel Agreste’s passing was pure chaos as far as Gabriel’s remaining staff and stockholders were concerned.

The artistic team was left without a leader to guide them, ideas and designs going nuts and wild without anyone to organize them and separate the wheat from the chaff.

The accounting team was going crazy dealing with the sudden and massive increase in resignations, the suppliers’ incessant calls wondering if they’d ever get paid, and the stockholders demanding answers about the uncertain future of the company.

The company’s lawyers were for the most part completely unreachable, busy as they were trying to figure out what exactly were the ramifications of their CEO’s sudden death. Who would take over the company if Adrien Agreste chose to surrender his notoriously unwanted position? Would he choose to sell the company to a third-party? And if he did, what would that entail? What would happen to the collections already out? The works-in-progress?

Above all, as the head designer of the upcoming brand new women’s line, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was probably the most sleep-deprived, stressed-out, and overall most exhausted employee amongst the entirety of Gabriel’s staff. The young woman had spent the better part of the past week trying to coax any ideas out of the designers working under her with mixed success, only to discover that by Friday night, all but her and her assistant either quit or transferred to the men’s department, leaving Marinette to work on her collection alone.

The rational part of her brain wanted to leave as well, bury herself beneath a pile of luxury fabric and only come back up once everything had been cleared out and dealt with because as things currently were, everything in her life was going to shambles.

At twenty-five, a rising star yet a dropout from ESMOD due to an unexpected exclusive apprenticeship under Gabriel Agreste himself, she was sharing a pitiful two-bedroom apartment with Alya and Nino, desperately trying to gather enough savings to get a place of her own. Her salary as Gabriel’s head designer of the upcoming women’s department was more than decent, but it still wasn’t enough to live on her own in the centre of Paris close to work. Mostly because the line she was heading was experimental and any salary raises were dependent on its success at Fashion Week at the end of summer that year.

Going back to her parents wasn’t an option Marinette entertained, and so she had no choice but to put up with the ups and downs of living with a very in-love young couple, whereas she had yet to go on a second date, let alone have a boyfriend. Alya was relentlessly picking on her about that, pointing out mercilessly how she was married to her job, and wondering how in the world “fashion” would give her children. Usually, Marinette would shrug and effortlessly shift the conversation to another topic, but lately, the dangerous cocktail of exhaustion and anxiety for her future in the industry brewing up within her, coupled with Alya’s growing irritation toward her friend’s numerous disappearances and secrets, had sparked more than one nasty argument between the pair of best friends.

As a result, Marinette was carefully avoiding going home as much as she could.

She had spent the week running up and down every corridor, making sure the collection would come out without a hitch despite being carried over by a boat without a captain. She worked herself to the bone, overcompensating for the huge loss the team had just suffered. Marinette spent her days putting out fires, avoiding catastrophe after catastrophe, and devoted her evenings to working on designs, bringing them to completion, going home way past any decent hour every single day, making sure every design was on point, that every garment was sewn up to par.

It had truly been a week from hell as far as she was concerned.

Even without her less than ideal housing situation, she still would’ve stayed late every day. Her mentor, her boss, was six-feet-under, but Marinette couldn’t envision letting him down. Even if Gabriel definitely lacked warmth in his social interactions, he had taught her so much over the last few years, she felt that the least she could do was to hold down the fort for him. He had given her an unexpected opportunity by putting her in the head designer’s shoes, had believed in her against all odds, and the very idea of betraying his trust, even if he wasn’t there to witness it anymore, was making her sick to her stomach.

Even if staying instead of leaving the boat meant encountering Adrien Agreste in some corridor sooner or later.

Pushing that idea as far away as she could, Marinette knelt in front of her dress form, carefully hemming one of the designs she and Gabriel had been working on last. They had talked about this dress only a few hours before his unexpected death, and she wanted the final result to live up to his expectations; an homage of some sort.

Refusing to look at the clock, knowing it was already way later than what would be deemed reasonable, Marinette took a step back, admiring her work. The dress was gorgeous, flowing nicely around the dress form, but it was lacking that little playful flair Gabriel had been envisioning for it.

Struck with a sudden idea, she promptly rose from her work station and marched to Gabriel’s office, as she had done countless times before. She knew for a fact that he kept a nice assortment of satin ribbons in there, specifically a pretty pink velvet one that would add just the perfect touch to the garment.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was to find another living being in Gabriel’s office.

A familiar mop of blond hair was sprawled out on her late boss’ desk, broad, muscular shoulders slumped, accompanied by a loud and desperate groan.

Marinette paused on the threshold for a second, her heart caught in her throat, wondering if she could get away with picking up the ribbon she needed without being seen. That brief hesitation was her demise. As if feeling her presence in the room, the man looked up, and green eyes bore into hers, widening in surprise.

Marinette couldn’t hold back a gasp at the sight of the man that had haunted her dreams for so many years. Sure enough, he had aged a bit since the last time their paths had crossed, but the years had been kind to him. His face had shed the roundness of his youth, bringing out a sharper, more angular jaw. His hair was a bit darker than it used to be, with a low fade haircut that accentuated his older, more mature appearance.

A single word kept replaying in Marinette’s mind at the handsome sight in front of her: danger.

Realizing she was gaping at him, Marinette mentally slapped herself across the face and promptly slipped back into her professional shoes. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Monsieur Agreste,” she said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she heard. “I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone in the building, otherwise I would’ve never barged in like that. I just need some supplies and then I’ll show myself out.”

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Adrien silently watched Marinette tiptoeing through the room with the ease of someone who was more than accustomed to her surroundings. She opened a nearby cabinet without hesitating and foraged within, her entire torso disappearing into the apparent mess of fabrics and various sewing furniture. Less than thirty seconds later, she emerged victorious, holding a roll of the needed ribbon.

She looked at him again. His face was glazed over with a mix of sleepy confusion and disorientation.

“I—Sorry for disturbing you, Monsieur,” Marinette whispered. “Goodnight.”

Turning her back on him, she walked toward the door, failing to escape before he called.

“Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

With a sharp intake of breath, she spun on her heels, facing him again with widening eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Adrien rose from his seat, rounding the heavy desk promptly to close the distance between them. “You’re Marinette, aren’t you? We went to school together, back in Mlle Bustier’s class, with Nino and Al-”

“I remember you perfectly well, Monsieur Agreste.”

He stared at her in silence, matching her guarded expression. “So you ended up here after all?”

She sustained his gaze, her voice cold and professional, “Yes. Despite you, Monsieur Agreste, being a major ass toward me. Can I, please, get back to work now?”

His whole expression tensed as he carefully eyed her. For a moment, he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, but then he deflated, sighing pitifully. “Very well. I still have these fabrics to pick anyway, and not a single clue about what I’m doing. Have a nice evening, Marinette.”

Marinette froze, her heart stilling in her chest.

Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t care.

Adrien’s problems weren’t in any way her own, and if someone had seen fit to put a physics teacher in charge of an entire fashion house, well, so be it. She had no say in the matter. Someone probably had decided to give him that menial task to keep his sheer incompetence away from what really mattered, an initiative she could only applaud.

But on the other hand, Gabriel had always been a man she admired greatly despite his cold facade, and the years she had spent working by his side hadn’t changed that. He was a brilliant designer and had literally dedicated up to his very last day to his art. She couldn’t stand the thought of letting Adrien ruin his father’s hard work—even if it was only ordering lousy fabric—not if she could help it. She had worked too hard to let him get in the way, and if she had to help him to earn herself the freedom of running her line like she wanted to, then she’d do it.

She glanced at the papers scattered on the desk behind him and frowned. “Don’t buy anything from Cosetti; he holds the weirdest grudge against your father for refusing to incorporate chiffon in the 2015 winter line. There’s a good chance he’ll try to scam you. Berkley’s might be more expensive, but I’ve seen swatches of the silk and it's severely lacking in quality. Zinya’s cheaper, better, and their seller is a real sweetheart.”

Adrien stared at her, dumbfounded, and it took him almost a full minute to find his voice again. “But—but, why would you help me? After—”

Marinette walked past him, shoulders tensed and a determined spark in her eyes. “Believe it or not, some of us actually rely on this company for a living, and I’m not letting it sink without putting up a fight. What else do you need to make a decision on?”

The young man blinked, and his professional persona kicked in. He joined her on the other side of the desk to show her the supplier submissions, tentatively pointing out what little progress he had made. Her tone toward him was cold yet polite as she effortlessly picked up where he had left off, giving him cues on their current relationships with various suppliers and broadly showing him the ropes of managing a fashion empire. Soon enough, Marinette pushed the last submission toward Adrien for a signature, got up, and grabbed her spool of ribbon.

“Marinette?” A little awkward but he looked at her as if she’d just saved him from a sinking boat in the middle of an ocean. “Thanks, I wouldn’t have made it without you, and—”

“Don’t,” Marinette cut him off. “I helped you only because my job is on the line. Good evening, Monsieur.”

She left Gabriel’s office in tense, stubborn silence, neither of them willing to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

***

Later that night, Ladybug landed atop the Eiffel Tower, sitting beside her partner on one of the higher beams with a soft sigh.

He peered at her, surprised. “I thought you said you were going to lay off on the patrols for a bit?”

She stared at the horizon for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between them. His question still hovered, unanswered, but he knew her well enough to figure she was trying to organize her thoughts. Nearly a decade of knowing each other meant that most things could go unsaid between the pair.

Eventually, she scooted closer to him on the beam, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, a comforting gesture that had become customary between them. She lay her head on his shoulder, sighing again.

“What’s wrong, Bug? Won’t your roommate be mad at you for disappearing again?”

She scoffed, reaching for his free hand and lacing her fingers through his. “I’ll get an earful once I get home for sure, but I needed this. I need a breather with my best friend, my safe haven.”

He tensed a bit, hearing those words, “That bad?”

“This last week has truly been hell, and I missed you like crazy.” Ladybug sighed softly.

Chat Noir groaned inwardly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “This boss of yours is some special kind of a jerk if he left you guys with so much trouble upon quitting.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she was insulting Gabriel Agreste’s memory by letting her partner tarnish his reputation freely like this, but with news of his sudden passing all over Paris, and the fact that Chat Noir knew fairly well that his partner was working in fashion, there was no way she could set the record straight without giving away some compromising clues.

Instead, she settled on answering quietly, pressing a reassuring kiss on his cheek, “It’s not like he had a choice. He had urgent personal matters to attend to, and we’ll be alright… eventually.” She trailed off, her eyes following his to their very own private view of Paris. “How’s your relative?”

Chat Noir squirmed uncomfortably beside her, and she instantly regretted asking the question that had been burning on her lips for the past week. But ever since he had shown up unfashionably late to a patrol because of a mandatory trip to a hospital, she had been worried about that relative of his who was close enough to the superhero to warrant an immediate visit at the hospital, but in the meantime far enough that he was barely fazed by the whole ordeal.

“He…” Chat Noir began slowly, carefully avoiding her gaze, and in a sudden flash of clarity, she understood. The sick/injured relative wasn’t part of their world anymore, and her dear kitty was grieving in his own very personal way.

“I’m so sorry, Chaton. Can I do anything for you?” she cried, twisting in his embrace, so she sat in his lap instead of beside him.

He gave her a forlorn smile that looked every bit a fake on his handsome face. “Don’t worry about me, my Lady. I’ll manage. Get back to your roommate, things are bad enough between you two as it is. I’d like for you to survive the week, you know.”

She hated to admit it, but Ladybug knew he was right. If last week was any indication, they would probably get in an awful fight as soon as she set foot in their apartment.

But this?

Chat Noir’s unwavering support, his kind words, and reassuring presence over the last decade? The familiar warmth of his arms wrapped around her?

It was worth it, and a thousand times more.

Smiling softly, she eyed him playfully, “And when did you become the voice of reason between us two?”

“Ever since you started to believe working eighty hours a week was healthy. Go home, and get some sleep. You’re barely able to keep your eyes open.”

She leaned on him for a second, taking in his warmth. “Alright, silly cat. See you around?”

“Of course, my Lady. Now, go before she snaps at you again.”

Ladybug quickly pressed her lips against Chat’s cheek, and with one last small smile and an all-too-brief hug, she took off into the night, leaving her counterpart to his silent musings on the tower.

Next >

[im-justso-bored]

Week 7 of Clown Theories and Analysis

S03E07 - Beautiful Monster

So I’m feeling really good about the future of Killing Eve with Laura Neal running the show for season 4. With 3x03 and now 3x07, she really captures the essence of Killing Eve and I’ve missed that this season. We are definitely in good hands as long as we get through the finale without any bullshit which I am super nervous about!

Inappropriate touching - So apparently someone didn’t get the memo when I said that it’s illegal to keep making V cry. 

I wonder what effect it’s having on V’s mind for people to keep telling her that she’s nothing but darkness and chaos. She knows she isn’t but I want to know how it’s weighing on her mentally. Obviously she’s bothered and upset by it but I want her to talk about it, it’s be interesting to see what she would say. I hope this gives opportunity for her to talk about it to Eve next episode. 

It’s definitely having a huge effect on her actions, it’s giving her the drive to keep pushing to be the person that she wants to be and not who everyone says she is. She’s truly alone right now (especially since Eve, the only person who truly sees her, isn’t around) so she’s developing a better sense of self and will continue defy what everyone thinks of her. 

Also I love the “God, you’re sexy” after Helene tells her that she could kill her. That’s basically the whole KE fandom when it comes to Villanelle. 

Opening titles - Why? What’s with the inconsistency with the opening title scene?

Standard parents crap - If Konstantin dies this season, which I still think may happen despite the false alarm this episode, does that mean that this is the last we see of Irina? If he dies, that means she’s stuck there, right? I don’t see her mother coming to get her up any time soon. 

I think I liked Irina better in season 1, she’s kind of annoying this season? Whiny, even. Which makes sense though, her father is a piece of shit (I still love him though) and she doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with her mother so I can definitely see why she’s acting out and so defiant. I just find it annoying, probably because I already see enough of it with Geraldine. Come to think of it, Konstantin and Carolyn seem to have a lot of parallels like V and Eve. Both have whiny, problematic children, both are under a lot of stress, both feel like the walls are closing in on them. This season is definitely building up to something big happening for Carolyn and Konstantin as well as Eve and V. Especially with the promo videos and pics of each pair before the season premiered. 

It’s a rule - Eve is such a chaotic bisexual dumbass and I love it. Villanelle definitely has custody of the one shared brain cell during this scene because Eve is back full-force with her bullshit and pursuing Villanelle. And I am all 👏🏽 here 👏🏽 for 👏🏽 it 👏🏽

I really like the Bitter Pill team, Suzanne better not come for them next episode.

Can we talk about how Eve was about to use Niko’s pitchfork incident as a way to get the bakery to give her info on Villanelle? She was so casual about it like it didn’t just happen the other day and killed all her hope for their marriage. She really does have tunnel vision when it comes to V, literally nothing else matters. Which is also shown in her pressuring Bear with her blatant disregard for the law lol

Russia has vegans now - Omfg, V’s accent at the front desk and during the golf scene is everything 😩

Dasha didn’t have to come at V like that. V snapped back though but I really need people to stop coming for V’s feelings like she has none. I wonder if Dasha telling V that she’s going to die with her hand held while V dies alone is hinting towards V finding that person in Eve instead. Ah shit, as I wrote that, I had a thought. What if V does die (soon) while with Eve and in her last moments Eve is holding her hand. I can’t unthink that now and I’m pissed. 

I do like filet mignon - So for a second, I actually thought that maybe Geraldine was spying on Konstantin because she suspected that he killed Kenny but then she just got back on her whiny bullshit and idk anymore. All I know is that she’s gotta go. 

Hey. Hey! HEEYYY! - I loved this scene, the comedy in this show is gold. This is one of the things that has been lacking this season and it definitely brought me back to s1 and s2 in terms of humor. 

Has V really lost it when it comes to killing? That’s the big question here. Obviously her plan from the beginning was to get away and escape with Konstantin hence her saying that she called him hours ago when he arrived. So that must mean that she never actually intended on finishing the job. Which she didn’t, of course. But I don’t think it’s because she can’t, I think it’s more that she doesn’t want to. I think, if pushed into it, she can and will still kill someone. Like if her life was in danger or to save someone she cared about like Eve or even Konstantin. But outside of that, it seems like she’s lost the drive to continue killing as she did before. I think that this has been building up since the beginning of the season and not just after 3x05. You can even go as far back as Rome, I think. That’s when she was first (first time we see) denied of being able to feel or be normal. 

“I love you.”

“You don’t understand what that is.”

She was rejected and made to feel less than human. And that definitely had a lasting effect on Villanelle. Ever since V really started to feel more, I think that’s when her drive and excitement for killing died down. There are other things that make her feel alive now. She doesn’t look into her victim’s eyes and watch the life drain from them anymore like she did in seasons 1 and 2. You don’t see that excited, sinister gleam in her eyes when it comes to completing a job. The jobs that she’s had in season 3 aren’t what mattered anymore, it was her promotion. It was the prospect of gaining power and possibly some semblance of freedom.  But now that that’s not what she had hoped for, the drive is gone. And she’s never been one to never been one to kill meaninglessly, whether she enjoyed killing or not. So I don’t think she’s lost the ability to kill, I think that she just doesn’t want to. She wants to be normal and this is her step in that direction. 

Also, that was a whole lotta ass crack in this scene. 

Like Stalin - I like how the only description Eve needed was “a pretty girl with her mom” and she was pretty much like “Yup, Villanelle is hot, must be her, get the fuck out”. 

Dark Eve is rising!! What a contrast, Eve is becoming darker while Villanelle is trying to distance herself from her darkness. They’ve both been through a lot of shit this season which seems to have pulled Eve and V in opposite directions in terms of how it’s affected them. 

You know that excited, sinister look I was saying V used to have? Eve has the same one here. She was staring into Dasha’s eyes just like V used to do when killing her victims. I wonder how this will impact (if it does) their chemistry when Eve and V finally reconnect again. Will it bring them closer together? Or will they be at an impasse?

Another prick to shit? - So the train scene ended up being a false alarm but I don’t think that Konstantin is in the clear yet, especially with Dasha being in the hospital with him and her ties to the Twelve. 

I wonder what effects his death would have on Villanelle. Of course, she doesn’t want him to die but you see her come to the realization that he actually might in this scene and she didn’t seem too torn up about it. Maybe it was because of the urgency of their situation so she didn’t have time to fully process it but I do wonder how that’ll affect her going forward if he does die. 

Omfg the wave though. I had so many feelings about this scene. Like I was bummed because Eve was sooo close but like she literally ran alongside the train like that’s some gay shit right there. And despite the situation, you see V smile and seem genuinely happy to see her. I think Eve was the last person she expected to see or hear from and with everything that’s happened to V since her last encounter with Eve, her obsession for her slipped to the back of her mind until this scene. Clearly Eve is still thinking about V so I think that’s the spark that puts V right back on that same path towards Eve. 

Konstantin is literally dying and all these two idiots can think about is each other 😂

Emotional iceberg - Carolyn is definitely starting to feel the pressure after Mo’s death (RIP). Similar to Konstantin, Carolyn is now beginning to stress about whether or not she’s next. Her tantrum definitely wasn’t just for show. I really do love the different sides we’re seeing of Carolyn this season, she’s no longer the calm and collected Carolyn we grew accustomed to in seasons 1 and 2.

I’m not gonna lie, I lowkey thought Carolyn was gonna snap and kill Geraldine. Wouldn’t even blame her. If nothing significant happens with Geraldine next episode, then her only purpose this season was kissing Konstantin which I could have gone without and eliciting an emotional response from Carolyn which could have been done a bunch of other ways. 

It’s not good for both of us - Villanelle’s voice is so sexy omg. I need to know the entire conversation they had.

Did V really mean what she said? They’ve definitely had their ups and downs (putting that lightly lol) and V hasn’t really given much thought to Eve lately (from what we’ve seen) so it’s possible. But then we do see both of them in multiple scenes together for the finale so who really knows? It could be setting up for them deciding to go separate ways at the end of the season (although I really hope not). From all of the interviews that have come out, we know that the finale will be different from the first two which leaves four options that I’ve thought of for the finale: 

1. They mutually agree to stop pursuing each other and go their separate ways

2. They team up and run away together

3. One of them dies (although I think this is the least likely, it would hurt the fanbase)

4. Konstantin dies, Villanelle saves Irina and runs away with her, either with or without Eve

I want to say that the most likely option is 2 because if they separate (option 1) then that kind of leaves them starting season 4 the same way they’ve started every season so far. Separated and then coming together somewhere in the middle of the season. The show is about them, it’s about their obsession for each other so they would have to come back together if they separated. Which is just recycled throughout each season so I would hope they wouldn’t do that. 

However, I’m a little apprehensive about them running away together. It’s been said that the finale will go a completely different route from what we’re expecting and we’ve been expecting them to run away together since season 2 so I have a feeling they won’t go that route. 

Option 3 is the main cause of my anxiety for the finale. I don’t see why they would post so many promos of Eve and Villanelle together with “Love is worth the wait” and all the “you really see them come together this season in a way we haven’t seen before” if they were just going to kill one of them or separate them though. Especially since they’ve only met one and a half times (I’m counting the wave and the phone call as a half). 

What do you guys think? What other ways do you see the season ending other than these three?

OVERALL - I really loved this episode, definitely one of the best from season 3. I definitely look forward to seeing more of Laura Neal’s work during season 4. I can’t believe these 8 weeks are already coming to an end. I love and hate the fact that we likely have to wait 2 years for season 4. I like it because it means the show won’t end (if season 4 is the last) next year, and then hate it for obvious reasons. I will definitely be reading and writing lots of fanfics to fill this Killing Eve hole after next week!

[caelesjjk]

Once Upon A Dream | l.h.

Wrote this for the fic event! I didn’t spend the time that I wanted to on this, and it’s awful tbh lol. It deserved better, but here we are. I was able to pick Fairytale!Luke as my theme!

Fic Event Masterlist

Prompt: I’ve been thinking about kissing you from the moment we met.

Prince Luke had been searching desperately trying to find the girl he loved.

They had only met a few times, but those few times were enough to make him realize that she was the one. She was dangerously smart, full of wit and humor, and the most beautiful creature he had ever set his eyes on.

He happened upon her by accident. But in truth, she found him. Luke had travelled too far from his normal path in the enchanted woods and got lost without the slightest idea where he had come from or where he needed to go. The enchanted forest had ways of making you see what it wanted you to see. Which is why he could have sworn she was nothing more than a dream when he saw her for the first time.

“Are you lost, your highness?” Her sweet voice said, her face partially blocked by a dark cloak over her head.

“I am. Do you know the way?” He asked, quickly getting down off of his horse and approaching her carefully.

“Where do you wish to go?” She looked up then and met his gaze. Luke was frozen in place, drinking in the way her eyes screamed innocence but the shape of her mouth said otherwise.

“My destination suddenly evades me.” He breathes, a smile pulling at her lips. “Tell me your name?” He took another step towards her.

“Briar Rose, your highness.” She bowed to him, but he quickly reached a hand out, long fingers ghosting at her chin and lifting her face back up to his.

“Please…you should be bowing to no one.” Luke said, amazed at the softness of her skin and how hard his heart began to beat because of it.

She helped him find his way back to his kingdom that day, but she was reluctant to tell him much about herself. Luke could not resist returning to those woods several more times over the months to see her again. To listen to her talk. To hold her hand in his. She never told him where she came from, or why she was in those woods alone. And Luke was afraid to ask, in fear that he would not see her again.

But now as Luke travels to the enchanted forest to visit Briar Rose, he is instead met by one of her fairy godmothers who was in complete hysterics. She practically knocked him from his horse when they crossed paths.

“Please your highness, she’s taken her. She’s taken Briar Rose.” The fairy said breathlessly.

“Who’s taken her?” Luke could feel pure rage and anger begin to bubble inside him and pour into his veins.

“The sorceress. Maleficent. We’ve kept her hidden away for so long…” The fairy began to cry.

“Where has she taken her?” Luke began making his way back over to his horse, ready to go any length to save Briar Rose.

“She put a spell on her. Convinced her to touch the spindle, and now Briar Rose sleeps. And she will sleep forever if the spell is not broken by true loves kiss.” The fairy wipes at her tears and explains everything she knows. “Lucky for us, your highness, Maleficent does not know of you and the bond between yourself and the princess.”

“Princess?” Luke asks, stunned once again.

“Briar Rose is the princess hidden away by her parents to keep her from the fate she now has endured. But you can save her. You must hurry.” The fairy pulls out her wand and waves it about a few times, magic pouring from it and into Luke’s sword and shield. “Please bring her back to us.”

Luke nods, swiftly straddling his horse before he looks back down at the fairy once more.

“And what of Maleficent? She will not make saving the princess so easy I assume?” He asks.

“She is…the most evil and traitorous. And she will use her power to keep you away at any cost.” The look of sympathy on the fairy’s face was anything but comforting. “Your sword and shield will help keep you safe.”

“Thank you for that. I shall return with the princess.” He nods at her once more before he has his horse running at full speed through the forest. He trusts the fairy’s magic to lead him where he needs to go.

The further he travels, the darker the woods become. His horse becomes more and more reluctant to continue on, and soon Luke must leave him behind and continue on foot. He uses his sword to slash through the overgrown forest, low hanging branches scratching at his face and arms as he pushes through, finding himself waist deep in a slimy river of black water. It makes his feet feel heavy, and when he tries to pull himself out of the water it does not allow him to do so. The water pulls at his frame until he falls back in.

Gasping for air at the surface, Luke manages to pull out his sword and slice through the magic wrapped around him in the water, allowing him to go free and scramble out onto the bank. Every inch of him is soaked, his blonde curls sticking to his face as he takes a moment to catch his breath and spit black water into the dirt. Maleficent must sense that he is getting closer.

Continuing on, Luke finds himself at a bridge that leads to the other side of a deep canyon. The ropes and wood do not appear sturdy in the slightest, but any other way would take too much time. He carefully takes a step out onto the bridge, the plank of wood groaning beneath his weight. He takes another hesitant step, this time the plank breaks and almost send him falling to his death. But his shield catches on one of the ropes and gives him the opportunity to climb back up. Luke can barely breathe at this point, as he makes slow and purposeful steps over the rest of the bridge. Just as he’s almost to the other side, the ropes snap and the bridge falls out from beneath him in slow motion. Luke is not ready to give up, not ready to die without seeing her again. His hand finds a rope and wraps into it tightly. It swings him against the side of the canyon where he hits his shoulder hard. He groans in pain as he pulls himself up the rope and onto the far side of the canyon, his back hitting the ground with a thud.

Luke looks up at the canopy of the thick forest above him. He can barely see the stars trying to poke through the holes and it reminds him of that sweet twinkle in Briar Rose’s eyes when she knows she’s right. She would laugh and fall back against the mossy forest floor where they had been sitting in the sunlight. And when she would turn her head to look up at him where he sat, Luke knew he was going to love her. He was going to ask her to marry him one day, even if it meant that he had to leave his kingdom and live in the enchanted forest, it didn’t matter when she looked at him that way.

With a pained huff, Luke forced himself up onto his feet again. Limping slights and holding shoulder as he made his way further into the darkness. The air was thick but the faint smell of smoke started to fill his nose as he continued walking.

The huge castle finally came into view, Luke’s gut feeling telling him this was where the princess was being kept by Maleficent. The evil dark magic seeped through every pore of the castle and the land that surrounded it. Luke took a moment to close his eyes and remember why he was here. His throat tightened at the thought of any harm coming to Briar Rose and his jaw set as he ground his teeth and opened his eyes.

“Coming for you, princess.” He whispered to himself, stepping out into a clearing. He didn’t make it more than a few steps before the earth in front of him began to crack and grumble, eerie green light pouring out like sludge.

“You will not take one more step.” Maleficent said far too calmly.

“One way or another, I’m getting to her, sorceress. You cannot stop me.” Luke moved his shield in front of his body, his shoulder protesting at every movement.

“She’s mine.” Maleficent screeched, the green magic beginning to swirl around her form.

“I think the princess should be able to say that herself, don’t you?” Luke said, his sword raising in a defensive stance.

Maleficent did not say another word, only raising her scepter towards the sky, more magic surrounding her until she was no longer visible. And once the green clouds cleared, a huge dragon stood where she once had. Luke’s breath caught in his chest as he stared up at the huge beast. But he knew that Briar was just on the other side, and he had to get to her.

“Have it your way then.” Luke yelled, storming towards the dragon and swiping his sword across one of its ankles, causing it to screech in pain.

It was a messy fight. Luke found himself nearly finished, his body pressed into the ground by one of the dragons giant claws as its green eyes stared down at him. His sword was just out of reach, and he needed to start coming to terms with the fact that he failed the girl he loved.

The dragon moved its face closer to Luke’s, deep growls leaving its mouth as it continued to drag out his untimely death. Luke’s ribs felt as though they were being crushed and darkness threatened to fill his sight. Blood dripped from his mouth as his bones protested against the weight of the dragons’ claw.

“I love her.” He said through labored breathing, Maleficent pausing to tilt her dragon head and look at him. And that pause was just what he needed, kicking up and rolling over just enough to grab his sword and hoist it up into her heart. She screamed so loud that Luke had to cover his ears as she fell into the cracks of the earth she had created.

Luke forced himself up onto his feet, arms wrapping around his ribs trying to hold himself up. He pushed his legs forward, squeezing through an opening of the front castle doors. Once he was inside, a huge staircase loomed in front of him.

“Of course.” He said to himself, feet shuffling forward, every single ounce of strength he had left being used to ascend the stairs.

After what felt like a lifetime, he reached the top, collapsing for a moment to catch his breath. He rolled to his side, eyes landing on the big elaborate bed sitting in the middle of the room. White flowers covered every inch of it. The bed posts practically touched the ceiling of the pointed roof. Luke had to blink away sweat from his eyes so they could take in the sight of her lying unmoving on the bed.

She was an angel. A crown of red roses dawned her head, popping out against the white of everything else. Luke moved onto his knees, catching his breath before standing the rest of the way up onto his feet. He struggled the short distance, but made it to the beautiful bed that held the beautiful girl.

“There you are, princess.” He whispered to himself. He reached out to touch her face, hating the way his dirty fingers clashed against her immaculate skin. But he let himself feel her, making sure she was real. He remembered the fairy telling him that true loves kiss would wake her from the curse, and he hoped like hell she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

Luke took in as many details of her as could before he pressed on of his hands next to her head to balance himself, and leaned down to kiss her. Just a sweet brush of his lips against hers. His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, but he had to force them back open when he heard her quiet speak to him.

“You found me.” Her hands cupped his face, being careful of the bruises and cuts.

“I’ll always find you, Briar Rose.” Luke smiled causing her to do the same. “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

This time, Briar leaned up to attach her lips back to his. Much more pressure, much more feeling to it. It was a kiss worth slaying a thousand dragons. Filled with all the unspoken love that they held for each other and the tension that had built over their months of meeting deep in the enchanted forest. She wasn’t holding back anymore and neither was he.

“What now?” She finally asked, gentle fingers brushing the sticky curls from his forehead.

“Now, is happily ever after.” Luke pulled her closer, arms wrapping around her waist to hold her in his lap, she happily wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I almost didn’t get to tell you that I love you.” Briar said shyly.

“I hoped you did…or that curse breaking kiss may have been much less effective.” Luke teased, making her laugh and pulled him into a hug. “I love you.” He says into her shoulder, a long sigh of relief leaving her lips.

“Take me home, your highness.” She said, pulling back to look at Luke.

“As you wish, princess.”

taglist: @bbycal @kinglyhood @sugarcoated-pain @shower-me-with-roses @c-dizzle-swizzlex @calumculture @sugarcoatedcalum @calthesensation @cheyenne-in-wonderland @moonlightcalum @unconditionalcalum @irwinkitten @singt0mecalum @angelbabylu @sadistmichael @goth5sos @aspiringwildfire @myloverboyash @cal-puddies @lashtoncurls @kchillout @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @callllumhood @sick-orca @ifwallscouldtalk @aliencal @cashtonasfuck @wastedheartcth @mellifluoushood

[raptured-night]

Hello! I was wondering: how do you read Lily's feelings for Snape? JKR seems to give some conflicting clues as to this by saying on the 20th anniversary edition that Snape's love was doomed because Lily loved James, while having said in an interview back in 2007 that Lily might have loved him romantically if it wasn't for the Dark Arts. I know interviews aren't much to go on, but it seems she goes back and forth ...

(2/2) on this question. I just wonder because of the idea that Snape "could have it all" if he had taken a different path. Whereas if Lily was always going to end up with James, then Snape was always going to be doomed to lose her because she would always marry his bully.

When it comes to Rowling and her interviews they definitely function better as supplementary support to any canon interpretations because they do tend to be more unreliable due to their inconsistency. For instance, there exists an interview from around 2005 where Rowling denied the idea of Lily and Snape ever having any kind of relationship because several of her readers had begun to catch on to the fact that might be a possibility well before her twist ending would confirm it (coincidentally if anyone has a link to that interview, I’ve been trying to find it again as I had it bookmarked on my old laptop before it crashed). Ultimately, Rowling's thoughts on various aspects of her series seem to go back-and-forth, which isn’t all that surprising; many authors tend to have evolving ideas about the stories they write. 

That being said, Rowling’s inconsistency is a good reason why using interviews to prove an author’s intentions for their canon is seldom very convincing. When you have one person quoting from one interview and another countering with another interview that seemingly contradicts the first it becomes a debate over which interview Rowling most clearly stands behind. In the end, the most reliable source is that which we can find within the main text. I’ve discussed some of my thoughts about how Snape may have viewed Lily, written a more detailed feminist critique of Lily’s relationships with Snape and James, and even explored the some of the dynamics that might have existed in the relationships of Snape, Lily, and James as supported by the text; however, when it comes to how Lily might have felt about Snape I’ve mostly only alluded to my thoughts here and there. 

I personally believe that there exists enough textual evidence in the Harry Potter series to support an interpretation of Lily as someone who may have been conflicted about what her feelings were for both Snape and James. I’ve argued before that there were some suggestions within the canon that Lily was becoming more attracted to James even before she had ended her friendship with Snape conclusively. Notably, even when she tries to tell James off during SWM, she ultimately exposes how much attention she must have been paying James for her to be aware of certain key faults (such as the fact he deliberately messed up his hair to look like he’d come from flying on his broom). Overall, the entirety of her “telling off” of James during SWM reads a bit as if Lily protests a little too much. The fact that she was also able to confront Snape about James saving his life revealed that Lily had likely already been talking more with James for him to have been able to share some of the details that led to him saving Snape’s life. 

Alternatively, Rowling also gives us a moment between Lily and Snape where Lily is described as blushing under the intensity of Snape’s stare. This could be interpreted in one of three ways: that Lily was aware of the possibility that Snape’s feelings had evolved for her and she felt awkward and/or embarrassed by how intensely he was looking at her; that her own feelings for Snape were changing enough she was becoming more aware of the fact her friend was a boy she could like as more than a friend; or that Lily’s feelings for James had been changing and under Snape’s intense stare she felt as if she were under scrutiny and wanted to hide the fact she didn’t dislike James quite as much as she claimed. 

So, I think there is room to interpret Lily’s reaction to Snape’s intense look as evidence of attraction or, in the very least, an awareness of Snape as more than just a childhood friend. I also think there’s room to argue that Lily may have been conflicted by her changing feelings for Snape and for James and this might have contributed to her later readiness to cut ties with Snape. That is not to say that Snape hadn’t given her a valid reason to want to end their friendship; however, I’ve theorized before that her refusal to hear him out and her rush to speak over him all suggested to me an idea that Lily may not have wanted to give him the chance to change her mind. 

Ultimately, she may have resolved to walk away from Snape for more complex reasons than just because she believed he had chosen to go down the wrong path. If she had begun to talk with James and already developed an interest in him then her friendship with Snape might have begun to feel like an obstacle to her, in that so long as they were friends and Snape hated James then she might have felt she was obligated to feel the same way (whereas being seen with James would certainly have counted as a betrayal of their friendship). However, if in addition to that, she also found herself going back-and-forth with her feelings for James and for Snape then Snape lashing out at her in SWM may have also given her the opportunity she may have been looking for to make a choice. Indeed, there is strong evidence within the canon to suggest that Lily might have already been putting some distance between her and Snape, enough so that Snape felt the need to question if she still saw them as best friends. This further points to a potential conflict on Lily’s part, in which case, her ending her friendship with Snape may well have been a way for her to free herself to be able to spend more time with James without feeling as if she were betraying a friend. Furthermore, the events of SWM might also have helped her finally come to a decision about whether Snape was someone she wanted to seriously see as “more than a friend,” which can be a scary transition for two people who grew up as close childhood friends even without Snape having further complicated things by being in a rival house to her own and rumored to have been associating with people who had reputations for dark magic and even darker prejudices.

I would also argue that we could read Lily as someone who may have been struggling to balance her friendship with Snape against the peer pressure she might have been receiving from her friends in Gryffindor to stop associating with him. The issue of so many complicated feelings combined with a teenage girl’s conscious awareness of social pressure may have just been too much for Lily and it might have felt like a relief to end things with Snape (an “intense” boy) and pursue something easier and less contentious with James when it seemed he had started coming around and was making positive changes. In the end, I believe there is enough in canon to argue that there is evidence Lily might have been able to love Snape romantically. However, I would also argue that Lily made as much of a choice as Snape did, in that she might have opted for the path of least resistance and found what seemed like a less complicated relationship with James versus the boy from Spinner’s End with the intense stare who had not only known her since they were children but had known what she was even before she did (i.e. a witch with loads of magic who was so good she’d never have to fear dark places like Azkaban) and who had grown into someone who managed to make her feel so confused, uncertain, and shy when he looked at her like she represented everything beautiful and good in the world to him, as if he could still see things in her she didn’t realize about herself. 

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 6

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. It’s official. Jester is the one making the chapter title cards. I have no part in this.

In this chapter: Fjord and Caduceus deal with intruders. Intruders? In my graveyard? 

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57491902

Caduceus looked around the kitchen, then pointed to the stove. A few pans and the pot used for soup were still there. The pot had a decent amount left. Fjord nodded, and they moved cautiously over to the stove. Each with an improvised weapon in hand, they eased back until they stood on either side of the curtained doorway.

“Found his room!” called the second person from upstairs.

“Grab his laptop, his books, all that crap.”

The first man lifted the curtain and stepped through as he spoke, distracted.

Fjord moved first, flinging the pot’s contents towards the man with a little prayer to the Wildmother.

He cried out in pain as the hot soup seared his neck and arms. Not his face, like Fjord had planned, but close enough.

With a single swing of a still-hot pan, Caduceus brought The Champion to the floor. The resounding clang of its impact echoed through the house.

“What was that?” called the man upstairs. Fjord dropped the pot and dragged the unconscious Champion into the kitchen. Still breathing, but definitely out cold. Caduceus strode into the entry room.

“Cad--!” Fjord bit off the word, dropping the man and hurrying after him. Drawing back the curtain, Fjord saw Caduceus drop his pan to take up the shovel leaning against the stairs. He glanced at Fjord and put out a hand to stop him. He mouthed, “Trust me.”

Fjord stepped back into the kitchen as footsteps came down the stairs, ripping his phone from his back pocket. His hands shook as he typed in his password.

“Who-who the fuck are you?” the other Champion asked.

“I’m the gravekeeper,” Caduceus said, his voice lower and darker than it’d gone before.

“Wh-Where’s Daniel?”

“Daniel isn’t with us anymore.”

“You kill--” The Champion stopped himself. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was just told to come here and pick up a guy that pissed off my boss.”

“Did Daniel have a surname? I’ll need it for the stone.”

He just stuttered a reply.

“Why don’t you give me your name, while we’re at it,” Caduceus drawled. “I have a couple of nice plots I’ve been meaning to fill. What better fodder for my garden than trespassers?”

Several soft thuds followed as The Champion ran for the door. When he yanked it open, he screamed.

“I believe the man asked for your name, champion,” came Yasha’s voice.

“Fjord, bring out the body,” Caduceus called. Fjord complied, dragging the unconscious Champion by his upper body. “Now, Yasha. Let’s have the nice man take his companion and tell all his friends not to tread on the Wildmother’s domain again, including our dear friend Fjord. Well, not unless they’re ready to be laid to rest.”

The man tried to flee, but Yasha did not move. “Take your friend.”

Slowly, awkwardly, the standing Champion dragged his friend out the door and down the path out of the Blooming Grove.

The rest of the Nein were on their way, jogging until they saw the man. Fjord couldn’t hear what they said, but he heard the laughter as his friends parted around the shamed Champion.

“I’m so sorry,” Fjord said.

Caduceus looked at him, confused. “What for?”

“I left the door unlocked. They came here because of me. This is my--”

“We all leave the door unlocked,” Yasha said, finally coming inside.

“This wasn’t your fault Fjord,” Caduceus said. “And this wasn’t the first time someone tried to cross these lands unwelcome. We have ways of dealing with them. Usually more hostile than what I tried today.”

Smiling, Caduceus said, “I think I did a rather good job, looking intimidating.”

“Yeah, you were fucking terrifying,” Yasha agreed.

“You both nearly sent me running, and I know you,” Fjord told them.

The three laughed, breaking the tension and fear that hovered over Fjord. His hands still shook, but he did that well.

“We’re so sorry Fjord,” Jester said as the rest of the Nein caught up. “We all wanted to run to help, but we were carrying your things, so Yasha went ahead.”

“Fjord texted us,” Yasha explained to Caduceus.

“Thank you,” Fjord said.

“We got your stuff, though!” Nott exclaimed. “You were right. They were all out doing some cult shit. Except for those two, I guess.”

“Isn’t it funny?” Jester giggled. “They came here to try and steal Fjord or something while we had just stolen his stuff back.”

“Most of it, I think,” Caleb said. “We did our best.”

“Thank you all, really,” Fjord said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Shut up,” Beau said.

One by one the Nein headed up the stairs to dump what they’d collected in Fjord’s room.

“Is my laptop still up there?” Fjord called. “And my books?”

“Yeah?” Beau called back.

“That’s good,” Caduceus said. “But, uh, Fjord. Why’d they go and pick up your things?”

“I’m sorry Caduceus,” he said for the second time. “I meant to ask earlier, but I wanted to make sure I had a chance to afford it. And I forgot you weren’t there when we talked about it this morning.”

“Are you going to stay, Fjord?”

His heart started beating again, but for a different kind of fear. “I...hoped to.”

Caduceus smiled. His face lit up, pink eyes suddenly several shades lighter. Everything around him seemed to glow a little more vibrantly, and the countless plants in the room seemed to lean a little towards him.

“You did all that cooking for me to leave,” Fjord muttered.

“I was happy to do it,” Caduceus said, stepping closer to Fjord. “It’s still yours. I know finals are in a few weeks, so they might help still.”

“Of course.”

“Honestly, Fjord, I’ve been struggling all day thinking about you leaving and going back to that place,” he confessed. “Look at how I reacted to them. Well, it was obvious they weren’t here to walk you back, but still.”

He went on, “But I know better than most that you can’t force someone to stay, even if it’s good for them. So I wanted to send you off with a smile.”

“And a shitton of food.”

He laughed. “That was the idea.”

“Thank you,” Fjord said, and he wondered if he would ever stop thanking Caduceus. Every day that passed, and he only fell deeper into an unspoken debt to this man. But it was a debt he was glad to repay. Whatever was needed.

~~

Fjord spent most of the evening putting away his things. There were items missing, including his favorite band t-shirt, but it was a small price to pay. They’d managed to find the little wood carving Vandren had taught him to make in his early days as a sailor. Even if Vandren was not the man Fjord had believed for so long, it was still something irreplaceable. At least he had that

He set it on the dresser next to books and the houseplant.

Caduceus flitted by constantly, helping Fjord fold shirts or making notes about furniture he’d need, now that he was staying. Just generally fussing, practically throwing out little flowers in his joy. Every time he disappeared back downstairs to do some work, Fjord felt a familiar warmth in his face.

Okay, so he had a little crush on Caduceus. Maybe. But it made sense, didn’t it? Caduceus had been a pillar this past week, at a time in Fjord’s like when a week felt like a year. And he had literally saved him that day. An innocent little admiration crush was fine. Natural, even. It would pass, and he could go back to enjoying Caduceus’s company platonically. Even moreso, now that they’d grown closer.

He looked up, thinking of the Wildmother, and sighed.

~~

He accepted the job at the Arbor Exemplar by the end of the night, promising to come in that week for training with Reani.

Over the next few weeks, he devoted his time to study, class, and his new job. He took an early start to his day, waking up in time to join Caduceus and Beau for morning meditation. Caduceus began changing up his guided, nature-based meditations to include ocean themes now and then, which did nothing for Fjord’s crush.

Sometimes there was time after for him and Caduceus to meditate on the Wildmother, to commune under the large tree to seek Her wisdom and guidance. Then, it was off to work for a few hours. Fjord opened the gym, greeted by groggy patrons often trying to guzzle some caffeine before their barely-after-sunrise workout.

Reani took over just in time for him to make it to his classes. He had about an hour to study and work on assignments before returning to the gym a few days a week. Sometimes, he spent that time actually at the gym, working out rather than studying. While the gym was often busy, during the week there were plenty of opportunities for him to do schoolwork and study. Far more than at the cafe.

He had days off here and there, and he and Reani agreed to split the weekends so each of them always had one day off. Some of the trainers, and occasionally Calliope herself, filled in their gaps.

And in the evenings, he spent time with his friends and neighbors. Caduceus trusted him enough to let him help cook. On the nights Caduceus didn’t cook, they ordered food or ate leftovers, or someone else in the Nein gave cooking a try.

When he’d lived with The Champions, Fjord had spent every spare moment studying. For all the good it did him. He’d been constantly distracted, pulled away, put to work for a last-minute need at the cafe or a sudden meeting or event. For all the hours he poured into school, it meant nothing.

But now, he had dedicated times in his schedule purely for study. No one at the Xhorhaus gave him shit if he spent “too long” at the library. The gym was another opportunity to get in some work. Even if there were more distractions and interruptions, he could finish most of his schoolwork in the gaps. And being surrounded by another sort of temple to the Wildmother felt right. Inspiring, in a sense.

By the time Fjord made it home, he could spend those precious few hours relaxing. Cleaning up his room, playing boards games with his friends, watching some ridiculous detective film with Nott and Jester, helping Caleb attempt some experiment he didn’t understand, playing wingman to Beau when she needed to pretend like she didn’t have her own crush to deal with, chatting with Yasha, and drinking tea on the porch with Caduceus.

Finals came, and with them, significantly less panic than he was accustomed to. The entire house fell into an almost dormant state as the students focused, Nott and Caduceus happily watching on with no remorse. Nott’s maternal energy, compiled across months of chaos, seemed to unleash around midterms and finals. Between her and Caduceus, no one was ever hungry long enough to notice.

The night before Fjord’s last final, the one he needed to do well on the most to keep his grades and scholarship alive, he took some time before bed to sit beneath the large tree. The pink flowers were long gone, and their petals with them, but the memory remained crystal-sharp in his mind’s eye.

He meditated. It’d become more natural to him as he practiced each morning. Now, even if he was in the middle of the day, he found himself running through some of those techniques to calm his nerves or keep his focus.

He slipped into the calm state after a few moments, and he spoke to Her.

Thank you for your guidance, he began. Thank you for the focus you granted me this week. Thank you for the home you welcomed me into, and this life that you made more. I hope that you can continue to offer me guidance with my last test. I am open to your wisdom, and I am honored to serve.

It was a Caduceus-style prayer, but Fjord had not yet felt confident enough to create his own structure. He hadn’t had the most success with outright asking questions either. The confidence his firbolg guide had in interpreting the wind, the leaves, the sudden scent in the air, was one he lacked. But he could get there, someday.

When he came out of his meditation, he noticed a body beside him. Tall and familiar, folded into his own meditation, was Caduceus. He opened his eyes shortly after Fjord and smiled.

“Hello Caduceus.”

“Did you speak to Her?” he asked.

Fjord nodded. “Just a little. I thanked Her, and I asked for Her help tomorrow. It’s my last test of the week. I really need to do well to keep that grade up. My scholarship depends on it.”

He let out a shaky breath, and Caduceus reached out to put a comforting hand on his knee. “She would not have guided you this far to abandon you now. Trust in the outcome. Trust in Her.”

Fjord took a deep breath, then nodded. “Thank you, Caduceus.”

“Of course.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “I owe so much to you. You’ve been a wonderful friend and ally and mentor at a time when I needed it most.”

There was a long pause as Caduceus glanced away, distantly looking at the house.

“I am your sign from the Wildmother,” he said simply. “You called for help, and I appeared. Someday someone else will pray for a miracle, and you will appear.”

Fjord searched his face in the darkness, lit only by the light from the house and the moon overhead. Caduceus looked contemplative, calm. “Did someone appear when you needed a miracle? At some point?”

Caduceus met his eyes, slowly smiling. “Yes.”

He wanted to ask, but Caduceus would have told him if he were prepared to share. Instead, Fjord nodded. He turned the words over his mind, imagining. Someday, he might be the miracle someone needed. The idea that he could be to someone what Caduceus was to him, even if just for a moment, was overwhelming in its warmth and humility.

Well, maybe he didn’t want to be exactly what Caduceus was to him to someone else, but that was different.

Caduceus pulled back his hand, content to sit in silence while Fjord tried not to blush and give himself away.

“I think I should get to bed,” Fjord said suddenly, when it was clear he was losing that battle. “Up early and all that.”

“Of course.”

Fjord stood, and seeing Caduceus start to get up offered his hand. He helped lift the firbolg to his feet, enjoying the closeness for just a moment. Just a quick breath. Then, they were off into the house.

Fjord climbed the steps, then went to his door. He looked back to see Caduceus continue to the third floor. He hoped this crush might end soon. He understood now why Beau was so dramatic about her own feelings, on the rare occasion when she would confide in Fjord. There was something about having feelings for a friend that was different. Deeper, warmer, and also more frightening. A greater risk. A deeper hurt.

He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he readied for bed. He had one, last test tomorrow. Then it would be summer, and he would have two uninterrupted months without school. Which meant more time for work, if he wanted to save money, or more time to work on his bond with the Wildmother.

Or more time to hang around the house with Caduceus. Which was not in the plan at all, and had no bearing on his expectations for the next two months.

With a deep sigh and a little prayer to the Wildmother, Fjord tried to avoid his problems with sleep.

[zaney-hacknslash]

Devils Bite Prelude: That Night on the Rainbow Bridge

July, 2005

Sugita

             For a long time, I gazed at the turbulent water below me, churned by the storm and glittering with all the colors of the rainbow. As the wind whipped at the hem of my coat and my hair, I found I couldn’t move, or speak.

           I got lost in the details: the icy bridge railing in my hand, and the rain obscuring my view, time seemingly stopping as I watched, but she wasn’t coming back up. She’d vanished—lost in the merciless depths of Tokyo Bay.

           “Fuck.” I gripped the rail tighter, trying to comprehend the failure.

           As criminal detectives, rescuing her wasn’t our focus so much as finding a way to take her abusive, drug dealing boyfriend off the streets, but we did try to save her. Of course. That was a duty we had to society—to protect the weak as best we could. And Aki had been weak. A single mom, frail as a bird, meek and terrified from a life of getting kicked around by everyone from her dad to the father of her children. Hell, the first time we’d gone to her door, she’d looked at us like we were there to gang rape her. Us. The good guys.

           As a cop, I’d told myself I couldn’t let that stand. I would save her. I’d wholeheartedly believed that putting her boyfriend in jail a few years would give her the opportunity to find herself, or, at the very least, enjoy a little peace.

           I did not expect to fail.

           “That’s a sight you never get used to,” I murmured, not sure if my partner would hear my voice beneath the storm or that I was even talking to him.

           Jumpers were the worst. People who slit their wrists or took too many pills usually survived, but there was a special horror on the face of a jumper—those wide eyes and gaping mouths, unable to so much as scream as they realized their mistake. Sometimes, I even imagined they reached out to me at the last moment, wanting me to save them, leaving me to wish that, somehow, I could.

           Just too sensitive, maybe. Like Dad says.

           Handa never lost face over a suicide. Nine out of ten times, he was capable of convincing them that life was worth living, because, of course, freedom-loving, fun-seeking, adrenaline junkie Handa completely believed that the ups in life were worth enduring the downs. Even when he failed to save someone, he was apt to remind me—eventually—that there was no way to save someone bent on killing themselves, and it wasn’t on us; it wasn’t prudent to shoulder all the guilt just because we’d happened to be there when they took action. We were the cops.

           That helped him sleep at night, but I couldn’t help kicking myself. I should have tried harder. I should have found a way to arrest her boyfriend a long time ago. I should have found a charge that would stick and keep him away from her for more than just a weekend at a time.

           Nothing could relieve my guilt—not even a whole pack of cigarettes—and suddenly, all I wanted was to go home to Kozakura, lie in her arms, and feel her tenderness and warmth. Our relationship was good. Solid. Marriage really was bliss. I’d never hit her—never even think it—let alone burn her with cigarettes or rape her. Brushing elbows with all these sick fucks showed me that I had found something rare and pure.

           Despairingly, I realized it would be hours before I got to see my wife, and she might even be in bed by the time I returned home.

           Overwhelmed by that feeling, I leaned back onto my heels, one hand clutching the rail, the other clasping my damp brow. How were we supposed to tell the kids that their mother was gone?

           Handa would tell me that wasn’t our concern—not our responsibility—but, having been the only witnesses to her suicide, I felt it was our duty.

           He still hadn’t said anything. Young, single moms were a soft spot for him. He might be even more upset than me, especially given that this was a rare occurrence, in which he had failed to talk her down. He’d barely even tried.

           Not his fault. You really just couldn’t win them all.

           “Nothing to do now but call it in,” I muttered, and gave the railing another tight squeeze. Her boyfriend could still be picked up and prosecuted; the hope that he’d answer for this was my only consolation. “Come on, Partner.” I finally turned to him.

           And froze immediately.

           I expected to find him there beside me, leaning coolly against the railing and gazing into the water with that distant look in his eyes he got when we failed. I knew he wasn’t emotionless, but, in that moment, part of me hoped he wasn’t as horrified as I felt. I wanted his collectedness and strength.

           However, to my shock, Hideki had gotten well out of my arm’s reach, and now stood up on the other side of the railing, one hand hanging onto a narrow support beam.

           “Woah.” My heart, which had been racing mere seconds ago, slammed to a shuddering halt. “Hideki… What are you doing?”

           Wind gusted around him, blasting through his black hair and making his tie flap, so strongly, I thought it might fling him from the edge.

           His deep-set, gray eyes watched the colored lights play on the ripples and waves of the bay, but his lips curled back from his teeth in a disturbed expression.

           Immediately, my heart started pounding again. I let my grip drop from the railing so that both hands hung at my sides, and I stayed exactly where I was. “She’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

           God. I hoped he’d just lost sight of what he was doing for a moment, that he’d thought to go after her before realizing how impossible that was.

           No. Handa was so scared of heights, he couldn’t even stand to drop a safe distance to the ground. Even in a moment of bravery, he’d never get so close to the edge. His posture looked unnaturally stiff. As if he’d simply frozen there. That expression, so horrified…sent a chill down my spine.

           So, it’s come to this after all.

           The thought passed through my mind, with resignation, followed, immediately, by more guilt.

           But there was no time for personal feelings.

           I took a quick look around. The path was empty at this time of night, the cars were above us. It was a linear trek to him—too far to simply grab him, though. I didn’t dare make a sudden move.

           And police training was kicking in.

           “Handa. Get your ass down before you lose your grip.” Physically or emotionally.

           Very slowly, Handa turned to look at me, as if just remembering my presence.

           Icy needles pierced my racing heart. That look on his face wasn’t just horrified. It was terrified. And utterly defeated. It was a look I’d seen before—always on jumpers, right before they sprang out into space. A look of that final farewell.

           No time to fuck around wondering. No room for error.

           “Hideki.” My voice turned firm, but not harsh. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking, Partner?” Watching for any sign that he intended to move, I edged, half a step, in his direction.

           Slowly. Carefully. Confidence. No aggression.

           Confidence was hard, given that I’d failed this exact situation not two minutes ago.

           This time though… If I failed… I would watch someone I loved die.

           I had to be perfect. Think on my feet. Say all the right things. Be alert for opportunities.

           Handa shifted his weight. On the support beam, his knuckles were white. I noticed him shuddering. I saw all over his rain-drenched face what he was thinking.

           For months now—ever since my bachelor party back in February—I’d been helplessly watching him spiral out of control. He spent too much money, he came into work hungover nearly every day, he had rough, sexual encounters with people he hardly knew. What’s more, he became hostile any time I tried to confront any of it or voice my concerns, even if it was simply to tell him that the things I saw weren’t like him.

           Tonight, it looked like the thought had finally hit him full force: I don’t have to go through this anymore.

           Calm down. I willed my racing heart to slow. Calm down.

           I knew him. I just had to give him something to latch onto. A reason to come down from that ledge on the safe side.

           “Come on, Hideki.” Slowly, very slowly, I lifted my hand to offer it to him. Maybe it was arrogance, but I did fully believe in his desire to latch onto me. He’d said he loved me—he wouldn’t put me through this. “Let’s go back to the car.”

           “Wh-what’s the point?” he spat, in a low voice. “She was right. It’s all a losing battle.”

           “Okay. Just come down from there. We’ll go somewhere and talk about it.”

           He loosened his grip on the slick beam, speaking through gritted teeth. “What is there to talk about, Sugita? It’s all fucked from the beginning, and it only gets worse.” His voice hitched just a shade above his normal, cool tone, and his eyes glazed—he’d lost his head.

           Handa Hideki never lost his head, and I wasn’t sure I knew how to handle it. Generally, if he lost his shit, I was soon to follow.

           Don’t think that way. Confidence.

      ��    I just had to get to him. Distract him long enough to reach his side. I had to keep his focus on me, off the water, off this terrible idea that had come to him.

           “I know…it feels that way sometimes…” I crept closer. “But I also know you. You don’t genuinely think that. And you’ve come really far.” I pointed a finger at him, just to hold his attention. “You can’t deny that. You have a lot of things going for you.”

           Handa sputtered out a bitter laugh. “Stupid shit. What the hell do I have?”

           He was alone, and he hated that. Materialistic though he was, all the stupid shit in the world didn’t add up to how desperately he wanted to be loved.

           It doesn’t matter.

           Plenty of people saw him as fake, shallow, or callous, but I knew he cared about a lot of things.

           “You have the opportunity to get what you want,” I reminded him, taking another tiny step in his direction. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re twenty-four years old. You’re smart. You’re talented. And you’re not a quitter.”

           “Sure, I’ve got the whole endless drudge ahead of me,” he replied, with dark cheer. “A lifetime of doing and saying the proper thing, and for what? A handful of years when people will say, he’s a success? Eventually, we all just die.”

           Dark. Way darker than anything I’d expected to hear from his optimistic mouth.

           At my bachelor party, he’d talked about throwing himself into traffic… But he’d been blacked out drunk. He’d taken it back. Sworn he didn’t mean it, didn’t intend it, had no reason to go through with it.

           I should have known that wouldn’t just go away. Especially not considering the state I’d found him in when I’d returned from my honeymoon. Fucked-up-drunk. Pissed at me. Unreasonable. Hostile.

           I…was an idiot. And if he died here tonight, it would be, unquestionably, my fault.

           “Hideki…” My breath shuddered as I eased a little closer. This was hard. I shouldn’t be the one trying to talk him down from this. I wanted to jump on him and drag him to safety. “Hideki, listen. Think about all the jumpers we’ve talked down. Everything we always say to them applies to you. This. Is not the answer. Checking out in your early twenties is not the answer.”

           “There is no ‘the answer,’ Sugita!” he half shouted, brow creasing with outrage. His grip slackened.

           My heart bucked. I froze.

           “That’s what I’m saying! Whether you get into a car accident, or you throw yourself off a bridge, or you get sick, or you just get old, we all give up in the end!”

           In answer to his semi-hysterical tone, I growled, softly, “I want you to look at where you are. And think about what you’re doing. Because there’s a big, big difference between dying of old age and the mistake you’re about to make. For one thing… You’re going to spend the last few moments of your life wishing you hadn’t done this. And you’re going to wonder what you could have accomplished if you’d just taken my hand.”

           It still hung between us, and I’d gotten close enough for him to reach it. “Now, for one thing, you promised you wouldn’t do this. Remember?”

           He hesitated. It must have thrown him, he was so used to lying about that night. “I remember,” he admitted, grudgingly.

           Good.

           “You and I are going to get old together, Hideki. We talk about it all the time.”

           He averted his gaze. I knew that the way he thought of getting old with me wasn’t congruent with the jokes we made about being in the same nursing home together.

           “If any part of you really wants that—to be partners, to run the squad together, to run the department together—all the things we talk about. If any part of you really wants to climb the ladder with me, be around when I’m thirty. Fifty. Eighty—because I’m doing all that, Hideki, with or without you—you have to take my hand.”

           His eyes narrowed.

           “Fuck knows…” My chest tightened suddenly, heaving, but I had to keep it together. “I want you to be there.” I shook my hand at him, urging him to take it.

           He simply stared at me.

           “Come down. Let’s talk about this somewhere dry and warm. Let’s figure this out.”

           “There’s no point, Sugita! There’s nothing you can say that will fix it!” His body lurched.

           I put my hands up, freezing that way. “Okay. You’re okay…”

           “That’s what I’m saying!” he insisted, louder still, voice cracking. “We’re the cops! you have all the tools, you think you have all the answers, but it’s still just impossible! It’s impossible to protect even one precious thing in this miserable life!”

           “I disagree,” I rumbled, not as loud as him. “And if you think for one minute that I won’t jump in and die trying to save your dumb ass. Think again.”

           At last, a wince contorted his face with agony and guilt. He knew I meant it, and if he felt as strongly about me as he said he did, he wouldn’t want me to die trying to save him.

           Obviously, I’d have no choice. This wasn’t some random stranger I had to save out of a sense of duty. This was my best friend. I didn’t want to chalk him up in the category of people I couldn’t help. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life with the image of him falling to his death. I would take a bullet for my partner. Even if he went into the water, I sure as hell could not stand on the bridge, watching to see if he’d surface, and then go home, vent to Kozakura, drink some scotch, and go to bed.

           “Now. Stop this.” I held out my hand again, more expectantly this time. “Stop acting like you’re all alone when you know you’re not.”

           He locked gazes with me, measuring my resolve, like he always did when we butted heads. “I feel alone,” he countered, lowly.

           “You aren’t. You will be. If you jump in the bay.”

           Hell of an ultimatum to give a jumper—go die by yourself or come let the guy you’re in love with fuss over you all night. Unorthodox, maybe, but, knowing him, the choice should be clear.

           “You aren’t,” I repeated, softer. “A lot of people care about you. I care about you. And you know that. So, get down.”

           At last, after what felt like an hour of staring at each other, his expression gave way into resignation. Breathily, he sighed. “Okay.” Slowly, he stretched out his shaking hand. “Okay, Ken…”

           Immediately, I snagged his wrist and closed the gap between us, threw my arm around his waist, and lifted him back to the safe side of the railing.

           “Stupid,” I husked, straightening his collar. “Are you…fucking kidding?” Hand trembling, I lifted his chin to make him look at me. “Don’t you—don’t you have any idea? How much I’d hate it if you were gone?”

           At the sound of those words, his expression collapsed into agony, and then his face sank to rest in the heel of his hand while his other arm folded across his chest. A silent sob wracked his body.

           “Hideki,” I sighed and then drew a tight breath. My limbs felt weak. My mind was on fire, but my flesh crawled in the damp cold. This wasn’t over… I had to stay strong.

           That’s what we do. When one of us is weak, the other steps up. It’s always been that way.

           “God dammit!” He jammed his fingers up into his damp bangs, voice echoing through the night, pitched with fury and despair. “Dammit! God dammit!” And then he covered his face with both hands. “Why is it like this? Why can’t I…?”

           “Hey, hey.” I threw my arms around him, quickly, out of instinct, quivering to think of how close I’d come to losing him. I pressed the breath out of him. “It’s okay.”

           “It’s not okay, Ken! I’m not okay! Everything is fucked!”

           “I’m here, man. If you want to tell me why that is.”

           He shook his head against my shoulder, sputtering out a strangled sob.

           All spring, he’d seemed depressed. I should have done something, even if that meant getting in his face, starting an argument, calling him out on his wasted lies. I should have just said it: you’re obviously not okay, so let’s do something about it.

           Since my bachelor party though, and the drunk confession he insisted he didn’t remember, it had become increasingly difficult to know how to handle him.

           The rain poured, seemingly harder than ever, and I squeezed him, battling my own wild emotions and trying to calm him down. It would be nice, I thought in passing, if this could be a turning point. A catalyst. It would be great just to know what was going on in his head these days.

           But as quickly as it had started, Handa pulled away from me, averting his gaze as he scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just got overwhelmed.”

           “Overwhelmed?” I echoed, in sharp disbelief. He wouldn’t dare…

           “Yeah,” he sniffed, in an unconvincing tone. “Everything she said. Watching her jump. It was overwhelming.”

           Evidently, he would, indeed, dare to try and back-pedal out of this.

           “It’s not, normally,” I pointed out, struggling with my outrage. “We do this all the time.”

           “Right. Well. This time was too much. One too many.”

           “And I’m supposed to believe…” I clenched my teeth. “That everything you just said had nothing to do with it?”

           “No, no.” He shook his head, looking flustered, perplexed. “No. I mean, I have my own shit going on. That made it harder, for sure. I didn’t come here to jump off the bridge.”

           “Have you thought about coming here to jump off the bridge?”

           “This bridge?” He looked around, as if identifying it for the first time. “No. Not this particular bridge.”

           “Asshole.” I fisted a hand in his collar. “Don’t fucking joke with me like that right now.”

           “No, Ken,” he amended, in an even tone. “I don’t fantasize about committing suicide. I saw her jump and I got overwhelmed. By the problems in my life.”

           I gave him a long glare and then suppressed a sigh. Per usual, it only took him two seconds to slip back into his untouchable façade. It made me want to grill the hell out of him until I knew the truth, but that would be a waste of time. Someone else could get to the bottom of his issues. Someone with an objective point of view. Someone who knew what the hell they were doing.

           My job was to stay calm.

           Not my strong suit.

           “Come on.” Laying a hand on his shoulder, I guided him back up the path to where we’d left the car. “Let’s go.”

           I put him in first, and then went around to radio in the suicide while he started a cigarette and stared out at the rain with a blank expression.

           When I finished the call, I studied him a moment before shaking my head and starting the car. Unbelievable, this guy. Sometimes, just for the hell of it, I tried to put myself in his shoes and imagine what it was like to be such an emotional disaster, but I still couldn’t begin to make sense of why he did or said half the shit he did.

           Why the fuck bother to even try to convince me he was fine not five minutes after he’d been screaming about giving up?

           “Where are we going?” he asked, dully.

           I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off my headache, trying to make the shaking and the pounding of my pulse stop. What a long-ass day. “Where do you think we’re going?”

           “The precinct. We shouldn’t leave the scene, though.” He was speaking in a dream-like tone now. “It’s not protocol.”

           “I’m taking you to the hospital,” I announced, tightly, not in the mood for delicacy. “You fucking dip shit.”

           At last, Handa turned to look at me, like he might find that I was joking. “Ken,” he sighed. “That’s not necessary.”

           “Don’t make me angry right now, Handa. You almost jumped off a bridge. While on duty. Not only is it necessary, it’s mandatory. Don’t play stupid and pretend you don’t know that.”

           “I’m not. I don’t need a doctor.”

           “Are you kidding me?” I snarled, glaring over at him. “You tried to kill yourself.”

           Calmly, he corrected, “I did not try to kill myself. I got overwhelmed and thought about whether or not I wanted to live—you convinced me that I shouldn’t be thinking that way. That’s all.”

           “That’s all?” I screeched to a stop at a red light I’d barely noticed and faced him, half-shouting, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  ��        “No. I—”

           “I saw what just happened, Hideki—you can’t convince me you weren’t about to jump!”

           If I hadn’t been there…he would have.

           A shudder shook all my bones.

           “Listen. No. That’s not what I mean. Yeah, that’s what happened, but there’s no point in talking to a doctor; I’m just going to tell them what I’m telling you: I saw a woman kill herself, I got overwhelmed because the case was close to home, I thought about jumping, but I decided I didn’t want to. I’m just tired.”

           “You’re not hiding behind just tired this time, Hideki. That’s all bullshit! That’s no reason for me to not take you to the doctor.”

           “It’s a waste of time, Ken,” he insisted. “Our time, and the doctor’s. If we’re not going to wait here for a team, we should go to the precinct to file a report.”

           “You are unbelievable.” My light changed and I crammed the accelerator. “You know that? You get suicidal ideation so bad you actually start to go through with it, and then you expect the doctor to let you go after a simple interview? You’re a cop—he’s going to screen the shit out of you!”

           It was going to take days. I’d wind up on modified duty and have a ton of paperwork to fill out. They might put him on leave of absence for the next month or two, if they didn’t just hospitalize him.

           Fuck, I hoped they would. I’d tell the lieutenant that they should. I’d tell anyone who’d listen how my partner had been fucked up all year and wasn’t emotionally fit to tour. He could be pissed at me forever. I wasn’t going to risk this happening again, when I wasn’t around.

           How dare he act like this was nothing?

           But he was still alive. I hadn’t lost him.

           Focusing on that reality, I endeavored, all over again, to calm down. He was infuriating, but this wasn’t the time to rip him a new asshole.

           He gave a more exasperated sigh. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to go.”

           “Don’t…” I heaved a tense breath. “Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t understand protocol. All I have to do is report this incident to Lieutenant Kudo, and he’ll make you go to the hospital.”

           “I’m not a slave to this job,” he sniped, in a tired tone. “And I’m in my right mind. It’s a waste of everyone’s time to make this a big deal.”

           “So what if it is?” I growled. “I can’t believe you’re actually trying to talk me out of this! Don’t you give a shit how I feel at all?”

           “I do,” he agreed, very quietly.

           “It doesn’t seem like you do.” I shot another glare at him. “First you almost throw yourself off a bridge—right in front of me—and then you won’t let me take you to get help. How completely selfish!”

           It made him pause, and then, unexpectedly, his voice tightened with emotions. “I do care, Ken. I just don’t want someone else involved. It’s no one’s business. Why can’t we just keep it between us?”

           Handa Hideki did not cry. If I thought he was manipulating me—even for a second—so help me, I would pull the car over and kick his ass.

           We’d reached another light, so I scowled over at him. I’d give him something to fucking cry about.

           Handa refused to look back at me, expression partly hidden by his ragged, wet bangs. It looked like a tear sped down his cheek.

           “I’m sorry, Ken,” he husked. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

           He had more manipulation techniques than I would have dreamed existed, but he wouldn’t let me see him crying if he could help it. I felt like a dick for yelling at him and calling him selfish, so I reached over and squeezed the back of his neck as we pulled forward again. “Hideki…maybe if we weren’t on duty. But really. It’s not fair to ask me to go home and just pretend this didn’t happen.” I’d be worried all night.

           “No,” he agreed in a quiet voice. “I know… I’ll…go if you really want me to. If that’ll make you feel better.”

           “It isn’t about me.”

           “Well, I don’t want to go. At all. I don’t want to go just because it’s mandatory…” He met my gaze reluctantly. “Can’t we just…go back to my place and talk about it?”

           “I would if I thought you’d actually talk to me and tell me what’s going on,” I answered, sternly.

           “I will.”

           “I have a really hard time believing that. I’m sure you know why.”

           “Listen…” He sighed. “I had this fucked up conversation with my dad. That’s a big part of it.” We were getting near the precinct. The building loomed over us already, so Handa turned to face me, with an air of desperation. “He thinks I’m sick, Ken. He insists.”

           That fucking asshole. I clutched my steering wheel so hard I thought I might bend it. That complete piece of shit. Why in the fuck would you tell your son that? Especially if your son was already fucked up enough from you kicking the emotional crap out of him his whole life?

           Just one chance. I was aching for just one chance to talk face to face with his dad. I’d seen him at our last promo, but that was years ago, and I hadn’t known anything at the time.

           We should be getting another promotion pretty soon—I’d heard them whispering about making Handa a corporal before he turned twenty-five—I’d get my chance to look his dad right in the eyes and tell him how much he didn’t deserve to make his most successful son feel like a loser outcast who’d never measure up.

           Both his older brothers owned houses and were married. I didn’t pay much attention to the infrequent times he muttered this or that about them, but it seemed like one was a lawyer and one was a stockbroker. Blood suckers. I guessed all that money probably looked like success to the asshole who’d raised them, but he apparently had no fucking clue how Handa made this impossible job look easy, how he seemed to solve cases in his sleep, let alone the insane success rate it took to become a fucking corporal by age twenty-four.

           “I don’t want you to think I’m sick too,” he muttered.

           I barely managed to keep a controlled voice. “I don’t think you’re sick. I think you tried to kill yourself.”

           “Yeah…but it was a mistake, Ken.” His voice had taken on a hint of real worry. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t want to get put on hold for that. I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t trust about why this happened.”

           That all sounded honest. But, then, Handa sounding honest was never the problem.

           Nevertheless, I had to take into account the fact that he could lie to and manipulate the doctor even easier than he could me, and it might not do him any real good to go there.

           I pulled up outside the precinct, shaking my head and watching the rain.

           “And there’s more to it than that. This could fuck up my whole career.”

           “It could,” I admitted, dully. I couldn’t say with certainty that none of our superiors were aware of his persuasion, and I definitely wasn’t naïve enough to think that at least one or two of them—like asshole Sergeant Hasegawa—didn’t want to wreck him for it. Were they going to promote an emotionally unstable, potentially suicidal homosexual? That’s how they’d see him, no matter how I explained this. And that just wasn’t the world we lived in. They’d consider him a liability.

           “I don’t want to give anyone a reason to say I’m sick.”

           Even outside of work, that was a serious factor. What was his dad going to say when he found out Hideki had been committed? It didn’t matter what the reason was, if he had a chance to get in his head and convince him to try some fucked up conversion therapy this could all get a lot worse.

           God forbid he should pull some real shit and convince Hideki he was sick enough to need a power of attorney and force him into conversion therapy.

           That was paranoia talking. That was the cop in me expecting the worst in everyone. That was my inner pessimist discrediting Hideki and believing he wouldn’t be able to stand up to that.

           But I knew. Hideki wanted his dad to love and accept him. Of course, he did. There was a chance he’d give in just to gain favor. He wouldn’t come out of the closet to save his life, and the desperation of living that way might push him to believe conversion therapy was the answer to all his problems after all.

           If that happened… Whoever came back to me would not be Handa Hideki.

           “I don’t know what to do with you,” I admitted, in a drained tone. I didn’t mean just then. I meant in general. Ever. I never knew what to do with him.

           I had thought accepting him myself was the answer, but now that I knew he was in love with me, I was in a tight box, and I felt like all I could do was stand aside and hope to Christ he figured his shit out soon.

           “Let’s go up and do our report,” he suggested, sounding a touch calmer. “And then go back to my place, get some beer, talk about it.”

           I shot him a scolding look. “If you convince me to take you home instead of to the hospital—like I should—we are not drinking.”

           “Okay,” he nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

           “And I expect you to talk to me—give me the honest truth about why this happened. If I think you’re lying, I will call in to have you put on hold.”

           “I’m not going to lie, Ken. I promise. I would just way rather talk to you, at my place, than spend the next seventy-two hours in some god-forsaken hospital ward, getting grilled and poked by some complete stranger.”

           That was just like him.

           Beyond that, though, Handa thought a step or two ahead of everyone. He might be worried the doctor would present conversion therapy as an option if he got even slightly into his head. I could all but hear it: if being in love with your partner is such a problem, let’s start by fixing that.

           Maybe being in love with me was so painful, he’d resign himself to the torture…

           Sighing, frustrated, I met his gaze again. “If I do this, you have to promise me you’ll go on your own and get help, Hideki. No more of this quietly self-destructive bullshit. No more lying about how everything is fine. Get some fucking help.”

           “I don’t need that kind of help—”

           “No,” I cut in, sharply. “I’m serious. Find a doctor who knows your dad is full of shit and start figuring this out. That’s one of my conditions for not going upstairs, right now, and telling the lieutenant about this.”

           Handa held my gaze a few moments, testing my will, and then he nodded. “Okay, Ken. I will. I’ll get help.”

           “Please don’t make me regret giving you your way.”

           Slowly, he reached over and put his hand over mine, long enough for me to notice that it was cold and shaking; he held my gaze, sadly, but he didn’t have to say anything. I recognized the look for all its passion and longing.

           “My friend helped me,” he murmured. “And I appreciate it.”

           “Okay, Ki-kun.” I squeezed his wrist. “Don’t lay it on so thick. Just keep your promise.”

[aquaburst3]

Since I’m kinda bored, I want to try this as a thought exercise. If in a one in a billion chance I was ever put in charge of a Teen Titans style animated show, this would be the line up and how I would characterize everyone. Like Young Justice, there will be a lot of alterations to characters to make them fit this new universe. 

Robin/Damian Wayne: To start things off, as for why I picked him, let’s face it, Dick and Tim are always the choices for team leaders for the Teen Titans. Hell, I can’t even think of an example of a TV series without either them as the team leader. Don’t get me wrong. Dick will always be my favourite Robin and one of my favourite characters in general, but seeing someone else be the team leader aside from those two would be a nice change of pace. I would still have Dick, Jason and Tim be a part of the show, but as side characters who are apart of Damian’s life rather then being main characters.

On top of that, having the team leader be the son of a great hero and villain would open up more opportunities for stories. Damian would have to struggle a lot more about which side of himself to choose and confront his grandfather. It would also give him the opportunity to grow into a leadership position as the story goes on rather then starting off as a natural at it.  Damian also adds to the theme of having the children of great heroes and especially villains that I’m going for here. 

As for his backstory, it’s pretty similar to what it is in the comics. Damian is the son of Bruce and Thalia, being raised by his grandfather to be the heir to the League of Assassins. His mother shipped him out to be with his father when he’s 14, planning to use him to rip apart Bruce’s plans from the inside. Instead taking his father down, he decides that he wants to change to be worthy of being Batman one day. But Damian has a long way to go, being a smart fighter, but lacking in...well...pretty much everything else. 

When Damian’s 16, Dick pushes him to join his old team as an attempt for him to make friends. This doesn’t go over well, getting into arguments with the other members like Beast Boy, Tempest and especially Zachary Zatana. Due to circumstances, including teaming up with Kaldur and Wally on an unplanned mission, who weren’t members of the other team, he makes up a team on his own that he’s the leader of. No more of Dick’s hand-me-downs. He has his own crew with a similar mindset as him. 

As for how I would characterize him, I would make him like a mixture of s0 and DM Yami from YGO in order to make him more likeable. Far less of a brat and Gary Stu at the start then his comic book counterpart.  Someone who has a conscience and has a good heart, being a caring and loving boy, but his methods of carrying out his actions are messed up due to his upbringing.  He can also be arrogant with a regalness about himself. But as time goes on and he spends more time with the team, he leans more towards the DM Yami side where his true self shines through more often. He calms down on the killing, but he can still be rather prideful, hot-headed and hides his emotions. His messed up side can creep up once in awhile as well. Oh, and he loves to draw and animals.  

 He also has a far healthier bond with his adopted brothers compared to his comic book counterpart, being the closet to Dick and Jason. However, he feels like he’s in his Robin predecessor’s shadows. He’s not as charming and sociable as Dick. He’s not as street savy as Jason. He’s not as intelligent or good of a detective as Tim. So where does that leave him? 

Also, Zackary Zatara, or Zatana’s younger cousin, is his rival on the other team. They often clash due to their similar and yet different personalities. 

Looks wise, he would have dark olive skin, black hair and brown eyes. He’s still very short for his age, which others tease him about. 

I would age up Damian to be 16. Just so he is a bit older, so that the series can tackle darker stories and has a bit more of a logical explanation for why he’s a badass.  (To be honest, I suck at writing child characters.) 

Aqua Lad/Kaldur/Jackson Hyde:  His origin would be more like his comic book counterpart then his YJ one. Instead of growing up in Atlantis, he’s an half Altantian boy, who grew up in New Mexico. He figures out about his powers during his teen years after he defends his adopted mother from a villain, being discovered by Aquaman before joining the team.    

Characterization wise, like his YJ version, he’s the calm and levelheaded one on the team, who is able to keep the peace between everyone. He took up the unofficial “second in command” roll on the team. Unlike his YJ version, he is less confident, since he’s first starting out. He speaks far less formally compared to his YJ counterpart as well.  

Like his reboot comic counterpart, he’s also LGBT. He takes his looks after his pre reboot counterpart. (So he has black hair and dreadlocks instead of a white fade, but still has dark brown skin and eyes.)  

Red Arrow/ Emiko Queen:  Her backstory is that she’s the daughter of Shado and Oliver Queen, being born back when they were dating and before he found out about Shado’s affiliations. She was raised by her mother to be an assassin just like her. Wanting to find out about the truth about her father, she seeks out Oliver and confirms that she’s his kid, saving him from assassination. Enraged about this, her mother holds her hostage, taking her with her in a helicopter, which was about to explode. She escapes and goes back to live with her father.  Not wanting to get her half-brother’s way, she decides to join the team to carve out her own path. 

Personality wise, she’s headstrong, determined and outspoken, which puts her at odds with her teammates. She is also more methodical and down to earth compared to Damian. 

Kid Flash/Wallace R. West:  To get this out of the way, he’s not the same character as Wally from Young Justice. He’s the son of Iris’ older brother, Daniel West/The Reverse Flash, making him Wally’s cousin. (Comics are confusing) 

Anyways, his backstory is that he was, at first, rebellious and got into trouble with the law a fair bit, resenting Barry for imprisoning his father. It wasn’t until he has a chat with his father, who’s in prison, that he tries to set his life straight again. He teams up with Damian on a mission, deciding to make a new team with him. 

Characterization wise, he’s pretty similar to how he is in the comics or like Jonouchi/Joey from YGO. He’s fun loving and cares deeply about his friends, being serious when he needs to be, but can say thoughtless or careless things and can be quite reckless. 

Looks wise, he has short, black hair; brown eyes and dark brown skin.

Djinn/Layla: A newer character in the DC universe, but I’m changing her backstory. Layla, who has flight, mind reading and spell casting powers, is a Moroccan girl. Her brother forced her to use her powers to further his agenda.  She ran away, using her powers in some small way to make amends for the horrors her magic has wrought. The last thing she wants is for her brother to find her. 

Characterization wise, she’s like a mixture of Raven and Star Fire. She’s optimistic, outgoing and socially clueless like Star Fire, but holds back parts of herself and has done horrible acts in the past that she regrets like Raven. 

[rorykillmore]

and i'd love to hear about any aus you've been thinking about/working on!

okay so lately i’ve been getting nostalgic about charmed, as sometimes happens with me,

but i’ve always loved the idea of playing with charmed aus because the universe is so extensive! you can get so creative with translating character concepts into it! and it’s just really fun in general?? so i’ve been thinking about building on that more often buuut for lack of a core concept to center anything around rn, i thought i’d just talk a little bit about the ideas i have for my characters! some might be subject to change depending on how much i keep developing this, but

okay so lucille i think would probably be some kind of darker, underworld-aligned species. i’ll just say a demon to make it easier. lucille is some species of demon, but probably with some human blood in her background. human traits probably initially manifested more in her brother, thomas, than they did her, but after he died she started struggling and succumbing more and more to grief and guilt (which full-blooded demons can’t typically experience) and probably ends up trying to explore that and grow from it at some point?

to reflect the redemption arc she went through on denny i even like the idea of her eventually making a deal similar to the one drake made, where he got to be human for a year but then had to die at the end of it. i mean,, that’s really sad but i also feel it’d be kind of rewarding for lucille in a charmed au. she’d really get to experience life properly for the first time and learn shit about herself and it’d have all the more meaning for her if there was some kind of time limit on it.

siobhan -- easy one, she’d be a banshee!

...actually charmed banshee lore isn’t toooo different from siobhan’s family curse, save for the fact that banshees in this universe essentially ‘infect’ each other (if you’re a witch who’s stagnated in deep grief or pain and you hear a banshee’s scream, you slowly begin to transform into one). so yeah siobhan starts out a witch, gets turned into a banshee at some point and loses her humanity, is a pretty spooky villain for awhile. maybe at some point there’d be hope of turning her back though?? like whatever involvement rocket or red would have in this au, maybe they’re the ones to do it.

sara.... i dunno, i’ve considered a few aus where she’s a witch, but she could also potentially make for a very interesting whitelighter? a sassy damaged whitelighter who kinda stumbles her way through helping people sometimes but can also be very good at it; kind of paige-esque. because sara’s death in her canon is like, an infamous event, and sure characters die and come back all the time on charmed. but with how much sara’s death changed and transformed her (and how she has to leave her old life behind afterwards), i think it’s appropriate to bring her back as a whitelighter, and have her get assigned to watch over a group of ragtag, time traveling witches who are supposed to save the world. you get the picture!

i’m keeping heather a witch because i really like the ideas you’ve already come up with re: her, duke, and mcnamara kind of being this buffy-esque teenage demon fighting trio!! and then like meeting/joining up with veronica later on and stuff. one little twist i was considering adding in (appropriate to heather’s character,) is maybe making her a witch/demon hybrid? which... isn’t a fact she’s keen to disclose because if revealing you’re a witch is dangerous in normal society, revealing you have demon blood is dangerous even in magical societies. she has a slightly more aggressive nature and more destructive powers because of it, but is by and large pretty firm about defining who she is and what she wants to be.

okay and for madeline, i’ve kind of fallen in love with (no pun intended,) the idea of her being a cupid! i love. charmed’s cupid lore. a cupid is essentially a like a whitelighter where after you die, if you were a good person in life, you get offered a ‘higher calling’, except instead of being a guardian angel you’re essentially just... an angelic matchmaker??  you spread love, help people fix their relationships, etc. i feel this is something madeline would be genuinely good at, but also like, i can think of nothing more appropriate than giving her a job where she literally has to meddle in people’s relationship bullshit. she’d LOVE it.

trish would be a witch who i’d kind of envision playing a role similar to prue where she’s like, a really headstrong, formidable, slightly obsessive force of nature in the magical community who has a pretty established reputation for taking down demons. i’m not sure what her active power would be... maybe one of the elemental powers?? or maybe something like molecular combustion like piper has. it’d be something pretty in your face, much more offensive than defensive.

i also had the the thought that an interesting thing to throw into trish’s arc is to have her... join up with the avatars at some point?? or be strongly tempted to. because in this au, trish is still... trish, she still struggles a lot with wanting to save people and wanting to save herself and not wanting to be helpless. so this organization offering her a shitton of power and also the opportunity to save the world would be IMMENSELY tempting for her, and of course if you remember anything about the avatars, things would spiral into disaster from there,

dolores... man i still haven’t settled on a strong idea for her, i feel like, because there are so many different directions i kind of want to go in. one thing i do feel strongly about is she would be a GREAT character to demonstrate like, what absolute assholes the elders can be in service of the “greater good”. the elders seem like a good standin for the park engineers in this context because like, both are all-powerful forces (in their respective settings) who oversee things and have no moral qualms with manipulating events as they feel they need to.

so one idea i’m playing with is dolores being a witch (or possibly a witch/whitelighter hybrid?) who has some kind of Big Destiny she’s involved in that the elders are Very concerned with. but it kind of fucks with her life a lot and puts immense responsibility on her, so at some point she kind of just decides to fuck off and break free onto her own path

...but the elders don’t like that, and reset her memory so they can train her for their purposes from scratch

so you’d still get those same elements of like, her trying to figure out who she really is and what’s really true and trying to break free from something really huge and complicated?? yeah i think i like this

sophie-anne, of course, would be a vampire! easy one! i honestly can’t remember if much is known about charmed vampires except for that a) they’re considered outcasts even in the underworld,  b) they live in clans and are run by queens, c) are actually mostly women (with some exceptions i remember) for some reason. basically i’m pretty sure that charmed vampires are a bunch of gay demon ladies who decided they were fed up with the underworld’s bullshit. so that all translates pretty well for sophie! she’s the queen of one of the more prominent clans and basically just likes to chill. and flirt with witches sometimes, which exasperates her advisers constantly because don’t draw their attention, sophie!!! maybe she also turns cloud at some point, depending on whether you’d want to translate that aspect into a charmed au for him

as for camille... i think she’d either start out a normal human, or some kind of witch with pretty chill powers who doesn’t usually get involved in the witch/demonic conflicts. camille just wants to live a quiet life, basically. BUT in this au she does have a ~destiny~ as a future whitelighter, but it’s evident to like. basically all of the powers that be that she has a lot of shit to work out before she’s ready for that. so camille would basically be the character in this au who gets ASSIGNED a whitelighter to try to help her through things as my opportunity to explore that. i’m not sure who it would be yet but i just feel that is the best way to translate some of her pre-existing character stuff and play with some really interesting growth. camille with a guardian angel would be a disaster. but she’s also so unwaveringly kind and resilient as a character that i think she’d ultimately make a good whitelighter herself if she had someone to work through some things with. so. 

i wasn’t sure what concept to settle on for sly. maybe he’d be a wizard... ? i remember wizards kind of being this like, offshoot branches of witches who are kind of mischievous and sometimes untrustworthy (and also they’re almost entirely extinct and the remaining survivors seem to have a lot of issues with that, which... is fitting for poor sly...). do you remember that wizard who wanted to become the source of all evil so he could use the power to revive his entire species? yeah i feel like sly in this au would ultimately go up against that kind of well-meaning  but very dangerous villain and really struggle with it

alternatively maybe he’d be a werewolf or something, to express the fact that he’s a furry, but i don’t have as much of a developed idea for that,

delia is both easy and difficult to fit into this au. obviously she’d be a witch of some kind, but i’d have to figure out some kind of extra edge to express the whole supreme thing. maybe she comes from an especially powerful bloodline like the halliwells, or maybe she’s some kind of demigoddess... ? idk i’ll think of something interesting

and honestly i feel like some of my cats would actually work very well as familiars, especially if i could figure out some interesting characters to pair them with

[susan-gampre]

Meeting a Lady Ashmore; 2

“You and I think a lot alike in that regard. My trade works strictly on the same principle of scared men and women with blank checks to write. One whisper misplaced can bring a whole kingdom to it’s knee’s, after all...”

The silence to follow this remark would be drawn so thin it may as well have suffocated both women-- Alteast that was how it felt for Susan, as though her oxygen was lacking. To be fair she was holding her breath, anticipating further light, witty banter of their personal, inner thoughts.

Alas, rather than further deprive her failing lungs, Susan would suckle in a much needed breath whilst taking but a moment to draw the rim of the cup close to her lips, hesitating a moment in what she would pass off to be an acknowledging glance to the pretty little woman opposing her, as though she were absorbed and willing to listen to all Quillys had to say.

In reality she was sniffing the tea for any odd smells or glance for any lingering suds or possible evidence of tampering.

“Well,” the whore had begun, “You have the advantage of carrying all that juicy information, while your own remains concealed - your cards played close to your chest. Women of my profession are none too lucky, our dirty deeds are out in the open-- but in that same instance... We have nothing to hide? Perhaps we are equally, if not more deadly, than women such as you-- Modest, reserved.”

This is the final part to the long, utterly amazing collaboration between @quellys​ and myself.

I look forward to what is in store for us, truly. You are an utter delight to know!

A sly, coy grin would curl around Quilly’s lips in what Susan found to be mocking, her tone none too insulting, but the way she regards the Madam has left the said woman considering new, extraordinary ways to slaughter her and make it look like an accident.

“ My dear lady...”

Susan sneers against the rim of her cup, the varying, colorful obscenities rolling around in her head capable to make the dead blush.

Condescending, Quillys leers on with what is thought to be, through Susan’s eyes, a belittling manner, as if she were a mother talking down to her pouting babe, scolding her. “I may dabble in the darker side of things but I would never ever waste poison on someone, let alone by ruining a cup of perfectly good tea."

Further, as if to make her point, the opposing woman tips her head backward thus to sip at her own tea cup. Susan’s eyes were narrowed, glaring almost, all the while.

Fuck. You.

Save face. Polite is key...

Doing her damnedest to prevent from rolling her eyes, Susan offers the faintest of grins, silencing herself long enough to press her lips to the rim of her cup and sip at the warming liquids. Her eyes would fall to the ground, a hum on her tone. "It is quite delicious," she acknowledges-- while meanwhile her soul seems to light aflame with life, the tea stirring her tired, aching bones with rejuvenation.

Quillys, in return, would wear a knowing smile and continued to take another sip, acknowledging then after with a sure tone, "I will have to introduce you to Lady Sparrow at some point...she is a delight to work with and sells the very best of teas."

Flickering her gaze to rest over the tea cup and back unto the little woman, Susan acknowledges her with a curt, “Is that so?”

Further, to try and press that veil of calmness that was Quill’s visage, Susan regards in a none too subtle haughty tone, a wry smile to adorn her lips, “Well, I certainly would hate to pass up the opportunity of tasitng -the very best- of teas.”

Once finished with her cup, Susan hums against the rim of the quaint tea cup, her free hand's palm used as a plate to rest her cup atop of, smiling still as the warmth of the liquids causes her skin beneath the cloths to tingle with life.

Clearly undettered by the Madam’s harshness, Quillys would... Literally beam with happiness, her tone excitable, “"I'll be sure to get you a few samples. She makes a white chocolate and rose tea that will put a blush on anyone's cheeks.”

Visibly... Susan was just uncomfortable now, her inflated pride prestablished before she so blatantly aimed to rile the woman nullified and... well, her balloon was fucking popped. There went all the fun!

“Well,” the whore huffs, lips puckering, “"It is only appropriate to pair with a brothel, in which-a case. Two things in the world which could easily bring any to blush and grin with relief or exhilaration?"

It was an awful joke, but surely something.

Quillys seemed to like it, given she would giggle slightly into her tea. "Very well said my dear Madam Susan."

Soon the whore was to lift and wave a hand about in some gesture of dismissal, a grimace twisting and contorting her features whilst grumbling out, “Is that what you wished to speak of? A possible business venture in tea? I could assuredly find plenty use beyond just beverage, out of you, miss Quillys. If I am not so bold.“

Susan was so bold, she didn’t give any fucks.

“Forgive me, tea is a good way to test the waters of a person, Mr. Lancaster was bold enough--”

That’s what you call testing the fucking waters?

“--to offer me a job on the spot after meeting me once...though the way I behaved with him is hardly appropriate for such an open aired venue." She would finish off her tea. "I honestly just wanted to meet you, to learn about someone that a man holds in such high regard and to satisfy my own curiosity."

Learn about me?

Susan scoffs.

What was there to know that so many were so suddenly fucking interested in?

“.. You flatter me darling, and I am sore to admit that flattery assuredly gets you everywhere. And while this has been a waste of opportunity, I imagine it to not be the last time we shall cross paths. I certainly hope not, atleast. I do wish to one day speak of business, or make use of your... Talents, should I ever have need of juicy tidbits surrounding competitors-... Now in regards to Dantalian--...”

The whore would heave a sigh, fighting back the impending smile at the very thought of the man. That... Careless man.

“I must apologize in advance for him. Sweet fellow, but easily made to succumb to most pretty faces. ... But damned if the man can't make business look easy...”

Quick was the woman to wave a hand, reassuring the Madam, "He is charming and wears a suit like a man wears a glove...but...I fear he is not as charming as he tries to be...but that is another problem with working as an information broker, you learn to see past peoples flattery for what they want...as for what you could ask of me? I am at your mercy my dear lady, boredom is something that plagues me and I'm eager to be put to use."

Hesitation is visible in Susan’s eyes, her brow knitting, her lips puckering...

Is she serious?

“Huh-,” the whore grunts, caring to test the woman, indulging her with a task dubbed easy... Something to give Quillys credibility in Susan’s eyes:   “If you have any information surrounding the possiblity of men or women seeking jobs as a guardian or.. A more docile, domestic career... Sisters in Sin is always hunting. I have no one specific target in mind, competitors are hardly that, as most are all looking to cater to the elite of the social class, whereas I have all of the lower and middle class at my advantage.”

Quillys would nod and look about for a moment. She’d suddenly smile, musing, "I happened to visit the brothel a couple night ago, it was a lovely place and have no worries, I've already sworn to Mr. Lancaster that I leave my ears at the door as it were."

You fucking liar. Do not insult me--.

Suckling in a steadying breath thus to keep composure, Susan would smirk, an impish little display, “Which, even still, I shall watch you closely should you ever enter my establishment again, dear Quillys. It was just you whom spoke that honesty is something rarely offered to those you first meet?”

Quill soon gathered a rather playful expression upon her face, noted by Susan how quick she was to change the topic, "I dare say, that's an honor, to have such a lovely set of eyes staring at me." She grinned and spinned the cup in her hand a few times, never dropping it once. "Mr. Lancaster mentioned something about finances, simply from the business perspective, I can help with that."

Damn you Dantalian...

Gnawing the inside of her cheek, the whore would do her very best to maintain a outwardly stoic appearance. “ And just how might you be able to, miss Quillys?”

The opposing woman would move and finally took a seat beside Susan, minding her Tigress who, as faithful as ever, remained lazily splayed out across the top of the planter wall, just hovering above Susan like a looming guardian. "I know my way around the game of coins my dear, though I have no need to showcase that talent within the city, I understand how to balance book and business."

“And thus... you'd desire unlimited access to such precious information? Or shall you simply offer a hand in teaching my whores the delicate process?” Susan sounded reasonably doubtful, an unknown woman desiring to take up such a position that would put her, almost, directly is Susan’s ear. It did not bode well with the whore, such talk.

“Believe it or not my dear lady, I would ask for nothing in return...I like having something to keep me busy and the most admirable thing I've heard about you is your passion to keep those who work for you safe and well looked after, I would be happy to aid in anyway I can. I unfortunately find myself working already within a house that needs me dearly, but even with their contracts I find myself incredibly free to explore other avenues of business."

Genuine? Or just a good liar...

There was this inner battle raging within Susan’s thin bode, her heart leaping for the woman while her brain attempted to tie that pounding, annoying organ down with logic and reasonable doubt. It was a lot to consider, a supposed information broker just casually willing to get into bed with a brothel-- Out of the goodness of her heart? Out of boredom?

How long until she got bored with the Sisters, and decided to stir shit up by leaking information to competitors?

With a softer, more professional tone, Susan indulges the opposing female: “I assure you, while I have a part of me that believes you mean no harm, and are genuine... I will await to see how honest you hold true, trials and tribulations into ensure you to be no danger to the business I've created - As there are unsavory attributes that far exceeds it being -simply- just a little tiny brothel.”

Quillys would bow her head. "I wouldn't ask you to trust me right off the bat, if you did than I would have known that this was a bad pairing. I would much rather earn your trust than have it simply handed over."

A far more comfortable silence would ensue between the two women, a mutual understanding..

Broken by a playful quip from a grinning Quill, "And I do so enjoy a good challenge."

A deceitful grin claims Susan’s painted lips, her brows arched, her tone equal in jest, “Well, dear...”

She pauses, soon to regard in a taunting, daring voice:

“Game on.”

[allebeithloch]

A Light Bringer

Alle had been in mid sip of her tea when a voice brought her out of darker memories.

“Alle?” The Warlock as said almost passing by with out a second thought, then she spun on her heel and gave such a true grin that it made Alle pause. “May I join you?”

Holding her tea up to her lips at the time Alle felt the quick excitement of knowing someone. Karrista had been one of the few people to speak to Alle when she had made her return from The Forest. “Of course, please. Would you like me to get you some tea as well?”

Karrista nodded and delicately took her seat. Alle’s eyes caught the minor changes in her friend. The new dress deserving of a noble. The woman’s nails, now more like talons clacked on the table. “How have you been? Did you get my letter?”

Raising an eyebrow at Karrista’s nails Alle chose to keep on topic. “I’ve been well.” She then paused for a moment and nodded. “And. Yes. I spoke to Lochlyn. She is willing to help… but I have some heavy thinking to do…

There was a light smile from the warlock. "That is great that Lochlyn can help you."  Her eyebrow raised signaling her next question.  "Heavy thinking about what?"

The server came by as sat down a cup for Karrista. Alle went straight to work on pouring the tea before she continued. “Greymane might not care for the tea that I could grow... Instead... He wants to know how I still have pure land."

Karrista’s expression became ponderous as she picked up her tea cup. "How you have pure land, and if that same method can be applied elsewhere in Silverpine and the Gilnean ruins?"  She savored the scent and flavor of the tea before she would take the first sip

Looking down at the amber liquid Alle nodded. ‘Is this too much of a burden? I’m used to pushing my way to the top… not having to analyze’ “yes... Only, I don't know what caused it. If it had been my mothers wards, or something else."

"Something else?" Karrista looked to Alle over the rim of the cup.  "It sounds like you have a good idea of what it could be, and that idea isn't pleasant?"

"When I was making my contract... I mentioned, that I wanted to return to my home at the end. My fear-" She paused as if leveling herself. " My fear is that it was preserved by my deal, not by any normal means. And if that were the case. It would mean telling Greymane that my only way to restore Gilneas is to... make another deal."

Karrista nodded and set her tea down.  One hand on her lap, the other reached across the table, offering a hand to hold, palm up.  "Have you looked into your mother's wards? If they are the reason?  I am not familiar with the details of your contract, but if that is what they considered to be 'returning to home' that seems an unusually odd twist to the words."

Years of being beside Succubi and other demons Alle learned to read the sign of them being in a number of conversations as once. Shaking her head at Karrista’s out stretched hand she continued. "Contracts are always twisted. Mine was made rather foolishly for my tender age." She muttered sipping her tea. "But if I can fully clear out my lands of the plague ridden creatures, and discover the way is attainable... Then I would be a key to saving everyone, and Kiden would become my military backer, though I informed them that I won't be needing one, it will be more of a gesture of good faith."

"Do you have a copy of the contract?"  Karrista's voice took on a more formal, serious tone.  Alle could tell that like herself Karrista had spoken about ‘deals’ and ‘contracts’ to other beasts. Only the difference was the end game for the both of them. Karrista took on the Fel, where Alle had found another path.

 "I understand magical wards don't last forty years without help, however the details of the contract are often the key in untwisting them.  Your land is in an attainable standing, the question is how. Especially the demons you trafficked with, they likely intend for you to run back to them for another bit of help, and another."

Alle sipped more of her tea thinking about what would actually happen if she called to make a contract. The idea was amusing, and terrifying. "I doubt they would want me back... My first go, shook things up." She muttered then shook her head. "We didn't keep written, Arabella should be able to give you the details, as she is connected to that realm..." Picking up her tea she took a sip. "I'm having soil be tested right now, checking to see if any, demonic, touch has happened."

Karrista’s fel tainted eyes landed on Alle in a cautious look. “You brought soil to be tested from home? I hope you did not tell them where it was from?"

Putting her cup down Alle suddenly felt her full age as she looked back at Karrista. Fifty two years, forty of which she was in a never ending forest making and serving the contracts there, such a small detail seemed idiotic to forget.

"I'm not careless. I've been a beast in a forest of monsters. Careful treading is what I have known." She then shook her head. "If I can get a lead on it first, then maybe I can know if I have to worry about making a deal or not."

Karrista was still in the middle of another internal conversation. Alle figured it had to be Arabella. As Arabella herself didn’t want to appear but seemed to want to tell Karrista something. The Warlock’s expression settled on something as she looked up at Alle with a sincere smile. "Okay, if you have to make a deal, I would like to offer my assistance, and as well, offer to front collateral and effort in the deal."

Eyes wide Alle shook her head. “I could never ask for something like that-“

Then pushing into her mind Arabella’s sultry voice boomed making both women twitch. The woman’s voice was sharp. “Darling! You have others who would save you from losing that purity in you. If the need arrives TAKE IT.”

Alle’s mouth dropped open, then slowly she nodded. “ Thank you... I will keep it as my back up, if my favors fail me."

“You have a chance for a life here,” Karrista said with a approving smile. “and to let that light inside you shine brightly, I won't let you throw that opportunity away. I'll consider myself on retainer." She finished with a playful wink.

Nothing came free in this or any world. Alle gave pause to Karrista’s offer. Years of being a deal maker told Alle that she couldn’t trust this. “ All favors come with a price. I have done nothing but slightly befriend you." She then paused. "Is this because of Arabella?"

"I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spending time with Arabella."  She understood the distrusting look, attempting to show as casual and comfortable attitude as possible.  "And it's also that you have a chance at a happy ending.  You're a good person who became a monster to survive.  You've survived and it's time for you to become a good person."

‘You’re good’

Even know she heard his voice and felt herself be pulled away from Azeroth for a moment. She was standing in The Forest, an arm was wrapped around her as she listened to a song. That had been the first time she had shown her Light to anyone, and he had marveled at it.

The bells from the Cathedral chimed lifting her from the moment as if by a prayer. She looked up bright eyes looking to the sky. Small white birds flitted across making her smile. "You're the first person to say that to me in a very long time Karrista..." Her eyes closed and she gave a small nod. When she looked up, there was something glimmering just under her skin. The feeling of the Light sparked, but didn't reach Karrista to harm her.

From the other side of the table Karrista smiled. This is was Karrista’s price. To see the Light in one good person. Reaching across the warlock gave her hand for Alle. "Make sure I'm not the last?"

Looking down at Karrista’s hand Alle’s Light died almost instantaneously. “I- I’ll try.” She then shook her head at the out stretched hand. “I’ll hurt you if I touch you… And.. I don’t do that anymore.”

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence. But Alle could feel it now, that light was there, just under her skin. How long would it be until she finally understood how to be more than the beast?

[3one3]

The Sequel - 865

A Joint Thing

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Stop. You don’t even have to give the speech. I don’t want to talk about it. Tomorrow, yes. Not now.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to send hay and grain for the horses and livestock affected by the hurricane in Texas. The flooding is so bad. Did you eat? I had a strip steak because I was starving. I got one for you too though. If you want it. It only takes a few minutes on the grill.”

I want 20 things and none are a strip steak, no matter how superbly she could probably cook it, André rued after Christina nodded at the mostly empty plate beside her Macbook in the study. There was one piece of broccoli left on it alongside some discarded fat. It was Saturday night, and he just got home from the match, and he pretty much hated everything until that very moment. How sweet is she. Does her two hours at the stadium to see me play like the Invisible Man for 55 minutes and then makes herself dinner for one, to eat while she works on helping abandoned or homeless animals. And she has that face like her mind is going hundreds of kilometers a minute to figure out what to do or say to me to erase that I am currently useless on the football pitch and hurt all the time.

“I had dinner in the ice bath. Who are we helping? One organization or a bunch of little ones?” The player walked the rest of the way into the cozy study decorated primarily with books, and pushed the back of his chair from one side of the partners’ desk to the other so that he could sit beside his girl and see what was on her screen. She slid over a bit to her left, and then leaned back over to the right to kiss his cheek. If not for the distraction of the coverage of the hurricane drowning greater Houston under an unprecedented tonnage of water, Christina would have been totally consumed by her sympathy for her partner and his frustrating struggle to show his quality and worth at the Westfalenstadion. He was simply a body to bounce the ball off now and then during his minutes that evening. The whole team was rather slow on the ball, and one-dimensional. André couldn’t make or take any chances, and he seldom even had the opportunity for nice interplay with his black and yellow teammates. The three points were secured for the home side, and their #21 didn’t do anything costly or embarrassing, so it wasn’t a complete loss, but he looked and felt irrelevant and disappointing. His girl wished she knew how to help him turn it on again, or even just how to get on the right path to it. Injuries and good form by others meant it had been nearly a year since he enjoyed an uninterrupted spell in which to build and flourish. His struggle was breaking her heart, and demolishing his spirit. Her instinct was to make him talk about it instead of brush it off for “tomorrow”, but she knew what it was like to be in his shoes too, and knew he needed a cool-down period before it was worth encouraging him to share his burden with her.

“That’s what I’m trying to decide. The ASPCA is doing a lot but I’m not sure if they’re doing livestock or just pets. USEF has a fund going just for horses. I’m looking for, like, if some group is taking in otherwise homeless horses and caring for them while their owners can’t. I’d like to send supplies. I don’t like just giving money to those big groups because I don’t know how much of it actually helps the animals, or how long it takes.” The horsewoman moved her dinner plate aside so that she could lean on her elbow on the desk and sigh while André scrolled through the pictures she found on Twitter.

“Why don’t you make a post saying that you’d like to help, and see who responds? It shouldn’t be too hard to verify and not get scammed. Your Twitter has a big reach,” he reminded her. “I’m sure people will tell you who is doing what.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m going to need someone who knows what’s going on and where I can even get hay and grain sent from, and how to get it to whoever needs it. I emailed someone I know at USEF to find out what they can tell me. I’ll wait to post until I hear back from her. Hey, are you sure you don’t want anything?” Christina watched him watch a rescue video on the screen, and reached for his fuzzy cheek with the back of her hand. He turned and offered a small but reassuring smile.

“We had pasta and chicken. I’m not hungry, Prinzessin.”

“Do you want anything else? Couch? Bed? Fire pit? Movie downstairs?”

“Didn’t you want to begin your Game of Thrones education tonight?” the footballer yawned.

“Yes but actually I want to save that for tomorrow because it’s supposed to rain aaaaalllllllll day and Lukas has a playdate at Nuri’s- all the kids do- I think it’s someone’s birthday but I forget- and so it’s the perfect afternoon for us to get embedded on the couch and watch a bunch of episodes at once. I even made watermelon salsa for the whole grain tortilla chips.” Christina blinked at him with big, round, welcoming blue eyes, and just that little hint of hopefulness in them- her hope for him to be into her plans- was enough to help him feel just that little bit better about everything. Instead of expressing excitement about her Sunday agenda, he decided to tease her.

“You’re sending him to a birthday without a gift?” he asked with mock incredulity.

“Tugba only just told me about it at the game!”

“Did you get to tuck him in?”

“No,” she frowned. “Espen said he watched most of the match though. He made you something today,” Lukas’ mom smiled back. “It’s upstairs. Want to see?”

His dad nodded and followed her to the master bath, to check out the little platinum blonde’s art project. It all started when Espen arrived for work with a tie-dye kit and some cheap t-shirts. She was joining some new friends from her apartment block on a sort of bar crawl/drinking scavenger hunt that would stretch from brunch into the evening. It was a team competition, and her team was all going to wear tie-dye shirts. The others were getting together on Saturday to make theirs but since she had to work she just got her own supplies and made it into a fun activity to do with Lukas. Christina couldn’t resist joining in. They filled horse buckets with the water and dye and taught Lukas how to bunch up the shirt and add the rubber bands. After he saw the results on a his-size shirt, he wanted to make one for Daddy. It had to be yellow, because his “Daddy shirt” was yellow. Espen showed him how to draw on the adult-size white tee with fabric markers before they prepped it for the dye. He attempted a dinosaur and several humans of varying sizes and proportions. They weren’t all entirely recognizable as people. The finished product looked like a terrible children’s doodle made into a shirt instead of refrigerator art. He wanted to put it in the dye twice to deepen the yellow hue per Espen’s recommendation, so Christina hung it in her shower to dry because the dark tiles wouldn’t get stained.

“I think you should let him give it to you in the morning,” she explained to the lucky recipient of the haute couture piece. “He’ll be so proud and happy.”

“You think? Wouldn’t he like it if I just wear it?” André loved his ugly shirt. He loved that his son thought of him when he wasn’t around, and wanted to make him something.

“You can wear it after he gives it to you. I think you’ll look sexy in it, babe.”

“For some reason yellow doesn’t do for my eyes what it does for yours.” He pointed a cheeky smirk at his girl while holding the shirt up to his body.

“It’s really not your color.” She wrinkled one side of her nose and shook her head, and inadvertently reminded him of the things he didn’t want to talk about. I never look good in yellow. That’s the truth, he huffed inside. BVB shirt on, all talent, composure, and intelligence, gone. I just look like a jackass. “We tried to make it a darker, more flattering shade for you.”

“Mhm. Should I put it back in the shower? It seems dry.”

“I think it’s fine. Why don’t you put your bag away and stay awhile?” The rider winked at the dejected player and then wandered out of the bathroom and onto their bed. It was freshly made in clean linens, and too inviting to simply be walked past. There was nothing else to do in the house besides hover around André anyway.

“Where is your tie-dye shirt?” he asked her from his closet.

“In a drawer. It’s rainbow colored. I’m like a tie-dye pro.”

“Are we going downstairs, or outside, or bed, or what? What should I put on right now?”

“I dunno I don’t care.” Hola Juanin, Christina thought as her sweatpants pocket vibrated. It wouldn’t have been anyone other than the Spaniard. He played 74 minutes and assisted the match-winning goal, and she was waiting for him to respond to her congratulations text.

“Thanks. We played well. Who is it going to be with this time?” he wrote back. Her message also mentioned her desire to do another Dirk video, with a new artist, whose music she discovered only that afternoon, sort of.

“You know the song I played for you that sounds like its straight out of 1983 and I said I thought it might actually be brand new and not from Miami Vice? The featured artist on it is two guys called Oliver, because they’re both Olivers, and they’re DJ’s and producers and I heard their album that just came out and it’s AMAZING. You’ll prob love it. Add it on Apple. “Electrify” is my fave,” the rider told him with several dancing girl emojis.

“Why can’t you pick someone I already know personally and have a relationship with? Don’t you like any Kygo songs?” Juan’s feigned exasperation was audible in his digital words.

“Who says I want you to produce the video again?”

“Your mom.”

“We’re invited to a nightclub party in Milan on Saturday night with Rafa people. It’s not all night tho. Do you wanna?”

“I don��t know. That’s a week from now.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I had dinner with Paula. I’m home now. Bedtime for Juan.”

“Are you still hanging out with Taylor tomorrow?”

“I put sweatpants on because you have sweatpants on,” André shrugged on his way over to join his girl on the nicely made bed. She was upside down and tapping away on her phone. “Watcha doin?”

“Nothing.” Christina barely got the word out before the other player’s next message arrived.

“Yes.”

“Coming in hot.” The BVB midfielder crawled over her and literally just collapsed on her body, trapping the phone and her hand under his shoulder. “Ahh, yeah. Comfy.”

“Ugh, you weigh a ton. Why are your bones so heavy? There’s no fat on you to weigh this much.”

“Stop complaining,” he ordered before reluctantly scooting down some so that their parts lined up slightly better. He took the phone from her hand and set it on the bed, and then put both of her hands down at her side, out of the way of his elbows. Then he dropped his head down for a quick smooch. “Thanks for coming to the match.”

“Why do you still thank me?” Christina laughed. “I will never get that. I’ve been going to your games for almost 7 years. I was going to them even before that too. You just didn’t know it.”

“Because I’m still thankful that you support me. And that you support me at home too even after I play like crap.”

“You’re a hero to me and your son whether you score a hat trick, an own goal, or an award for doing absolutely nothing of note for an hour.” She couldn’t help but tease a little. It was totally fine with him because her teasing smile was very nice to look at. He bent down to kiss her again, a little slower, and then petted her forehead and some of her hair.

“I guess you weren’t paying attention when I gave the ball away and we almost lost a goal.”

“No I was, but you didn’t even do that well enough for them to actually score, so...doesn’t count.”

“Nice.”

“In all seriousness, was something hurting? You weren’t moving so good.” Christina held onto his waist and enjoyed his freshly showered smell. It was clean and manly and evoked all of the things inside a female that tell her to notice a male.

“Not really, but you’re right. By the end I wasn’t moving well.”

“Do you need a butt massage?” She slid her hands down over his behind and gave it a demonstrative double squeeze.

“You mean you have time for an ass that isn’t Jon Snow’s? You’ve found a way to include it in every other conversation for two days. Who is that?” His attention was diverted before he could list all the times she managed to work Kit Harington’s perfect ass into conversations. Her phone vibrated again, and lit up.

“How should I know? I can’t see it. Duuhhhhh.”

“Duhhhhhhh.”

“You’re crushing my liver or something. So you’re lucky you smell good.” And...meh. As the Olympic medalist inhaled some more eau du manly man, several threads converged in her head and dampened her mood. She spent much of the pre-match festivities with Zoe, and Nuri’s wife Tugba, talking about her new interest in Game of Thrones, and how it spawned from “that love scene” everybody was on about. The girls had so much to say and not just about Jon Snow’s wonderful, Fibonacci sequence-aligned bum. The other two knew more than the rider about the series, so they had more perspective on the significance of the love scene, but she could still testify to the powerful and meaningful emotions that were fueling it. It was obvious. The scene was about love, not sex. Zoe told her it was one of the few sex scenes in the whole story that portrayed the act as something loving instead of brutal and animalistic.

She also got wistful and fanciful and longing in talking about “that kind of love”. Marco’s girl asked, rhetorically, how amazing it is to have sex like that- to be so enamored, and so deeply in love, and so “so”. It was a struggle for her to even put a label on it. Tugba was all about it too. Nuri’s wife knew exactly what Zoe meant, and so did Christina. Unfortunately, thinking about the “oh my god, star-crossed lovers finally together, they need each other, they need to make love to fully experience it” sort of love just made her realize that she never had that with André anymore.

As Juan’s texts piled up on the phone next to her head, she felt uneasy inside. He was the one with whom she experienced that sort of love. He was the one she longed to be with that way. The girls also talked about other kinds of love, which they deemed good but not as singularly rewarding, satisfying, and special. André ticked the boxes for her for “when he’s so hot or handsome and you just need him” love and “casual, flirty” love, and “when you wake up Sunday morning and love each other” love. The player’s wives called the rarity of the other sort of love bittersweet, because they wanted to experience that encounter more often but recognized that it would be diminished with greater frequency. Zoe even said it was a “two handful” life experience, meaning one would only experience it maybe 10 times in a lifetime. So Christina logically shouldn’t have been that alarmed by the realization that she and her partner hadn’t had a night like that in some time, or that she wasn’t feeling that way about him. But she wasn’t sure that Zoe was right. It seemed like she thought of Juan that way all the time, and they had “Jonerys-level” sex multiple times just that summer. Sniffing her husband and feeling attracted to him on that most basic level of desire was disappointing for her, because it just reinforced everything she thought of in hospitality with the girls.

“Do you want me to move?” André offered when he noticed that her expression went flat for too long for her just to be kidding when she said he was lucky to smell good. It was like she frowned to go along with the banter but then just never smiled again or re-engaged.

“No. But...do you still...do you ever feel like you love me so much that you need to love me, like, physically? I mean- Not- Like- Like when you want to literally make love. You want to be together because of just...love. Not because you want to get off, or because I look good or whatever, or even like when you’re obsessed with being with my body for a while. I mean make love like the night before you went to Brazil, and our wedding night, and the first time we were together post-separation when it wasn’t weird anymore. When you look at me and I actually look back.” Christina regretted opening her mouth with every additional word she piled on to try to make herself clear. Her face was pink by the end, and she was hoping to disappear into the mattress somehow.  

“How many times did you watch the scene with his butt? You are so obsessed. Let it go, Prinzessin,” André chuckled. “You get so hung up on films and shows. Life doesn’t have to be that dramatic!”

“Never mind the show. Do you know what I’m talking about? Don’t you-“

“I wanted to be with you like that yesterday and you didn’t feel the same.” Why is she asking me this, he wondered. Why does she fool around when I want to be serious, and get serious when I’m just whatever. Why does she watch and read love stories and then have to live them the same?

“No that’s not the same, babe.” The rider shook her head and peered up at him with almost something like urgency. “I’m talking about when we’re both feeling exactly the same way. It’s a joint thing. It can’t happen to just one.”

“Well wouldn’t you know then? If it has to be both of us then you know all the times,” the player sighed. He just didn’t want to be having that conversation. He wanted to go back to enjoying her face and her casual conversation. She sighed too, but inaudibly, and nodded. His answer illustrated a good point. There was no point in asking him if he experienced something recently that she didn’t when the experience was dependent on them both. So it wasn’t just Christina that wasn’t feeling it. It wasn’t just that she had Juan as an alternative. The other half of the equation was messed up too. She wanted to know why, but didn’t know how to find out. He lifted his head to look at nothing across the room- an inadvertent but indicative gesture that put more space between their faces. His girl didn’t know how to even go about finding out her answer without aggravating him further.

“Okay.”

“Has anyone told you the guy with the ass and the girl with the braids are brother and sister? And that he’s a bitch? He would be the guy who listens to Drake and cries over girls. It’s just a TV show, Chris. Real life isn’t supposed to be comparable.” He was still aggravated anyway.

“Can you get off me if you’re going to talk to me like I’m an idiot?” So was she. He flipped over onto his back next to her for a second and then did a sit up and shifted around to lean against the headboard. She rolled onto her stomach and picked up her mobile.

“Goodnight baby girl.” He says with a red heart. Honestly, why do I fight to be in love with a man I love dearly when it’s no struggle at all to be in love with the other man I love? Seriously. Why? Why do I do this? Schü and I treat our relationship like it’s a project we’re working on, or like a patient with a whole bunch of problems and we don’t even know if he’s going to make it. I just love Juan. That’s it. That’s all there is to say. I don’t have to try. He doesn’t talk about us like we’re a work in progress. He realistically COULD do that, because I know he sees us being together in the future and it must seem like we take steps toward and away from that at times, but he doesn’t. Why do we do this? I don’t even know anymore. The old answer was that I wanted us to be together, and I wanted to keep our family together. I used to say that just because something is hard doesn’t make it not worth it. I need a drink before I get upset.

“Where you going?”

“Water.”