#also while I like to point how scary the Inquisition is and how far they overreach and how it’s justified for people not to like them

[aleroin]

it really is sad that Merrill doesn't fit in DA:I. she set up that entire game. she is so crucial. she is a keystone character of this series. but it honestly just does not work for her to join the Inquisition. at most she'll ally with them if they meet certain conditions but that's IT.

#OOC / HOLLY. #she wouldn't touch the Inquisition with a 30 ft pole and rubber gloves #she loves Varric and if the Inquisitor is elven esp Dalish she is more inclined to give them a chance #but just. the mere concept of the Inquisition. the whole thing. *nah* #like I see the appeal of arcane advisor AUs and I don’t disdain them or whatever #but there’s no way in hell she’s sharing her hard won knowledge of eluvians with this bargain bin Orlesian Chantry #‘but they’re not —‘ yes they are. look at me in the eyes. yes they are #the Chantry has stolen and destroyed enough she will not give them this #also the Inquisition didn’t know shit about eluvians until Morrigan brought hers #and she joined the Inquisition with ulterior motives #I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again that she makes the most sense in the position #is she the ideal choice? nah but she’s the only logical option within those circumstances #and the Inquisition didn’t even recruit her! the Orlesian court sent her with you like a loaded party favor! #and that storyline did have consequences for her and for us #so yeah it makes sense we got Morrigan #also while I like to point how scary the Inquisition is and how far they overreach and how it’s justified for people not to like them #I will also point out that they’re literally the only ones stepping up in this crisis and trying to help people #in the right hands they can be a force for great good #it’s jusy they can be a source for great evil in the wrong hands #just*

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Thoughts on Deltarune Chapter 2

I wasn't even intending to write a Deltarune post, but here we are!

Have some extended ramblings/theorizing about Undertale, Deltarune, and the role of the "Player" vs character agency.

[Warning: full spoilers for ALL routes in both Undertale and Deltarune!]

.

Frisk’s Agency in Undertale

So I'm not sure how common this is nowadays (I haven't been following Undertale theories for a while), but I personally prefer the interpretation that there is no "Player" as an in-universe force in Undertale. I think it's a far more elegant story if the fourth wall isn't broken.

I'm also fond of the Narrator Chara and "Chara isn't pure evil until Murder Route teaches them to be" interpretations too.

And, of course, the third plank bridging those two is that I don't see Frisk as a just a pure, innocent cinnamon roll.

Because I like the story best when it's Frisk who chooses mercy or murder. It gives Frisk a much more complex character, if they are allowed to have the capacity for both immense kindness and immense cruelty. It even gives them an interesting implied character arc, if you take the natural progression path of True Pacifist > Murder Fun Times > Soulless Pacifist.

Just like Flowey, Frisk first tried to use their powers of Determination for good, but eventually they also grew curious and began to see the world as a game. And then they went too far and ultimately regretted it. Regretted it so much, in fact, that they were willing to sell their soul for just a chance to fix it.

After all, it's not you, the "Player," whose SOUL Chara wants. It's you, Frisk.

I also dislike the idea of an in-universe "Player" because that implies that "Frisk" is nothing but an empty shell - on ALL routes. All of those heartwarming moments in the True Pacifist route? All of the silly Flirt actions? Yeah, that's not Frisk, that's just as much the "Player" puppeting some poor kid's body as the events of the Bad Times.

Who knows what Frisk is truly like if their every action - good or ill - is controlled by some unseen, eldritch force? Now Frisk no longer has any characterization.

And given that said force overrides Frisk's agency, then isn't the "Player" evil no matter which route you take? It's become a story where they only "moral" choice is never to pick up the game at all. Hrm.

Anyway, but that's all Undertale. Which brings me to...

What the heck is going on in Deltarune?

Unlike Frisk=the Red SOUL in Undertale, we don't seem to control Kris=the Red SOUL in Deltarune. The game repeatedly underlines that the player only controls the Red SOUL, not Kris.

(Though, with stuff like the sound of the bathroom faucet only being audible when Kris's actual body is nearby - it seems like even when separated, the Red SOUL may still be perceiving through Kris's other senses besides sight...?)

With Spamton's dialogue and Kris's reaction after the non-Weird NEO fight, there's also a lot more emphasis in Deltarune of Kris (and the rest of the party!) being puppeted by some other force. And that's on top of all the stuff in the first chapter highlighting Kris/the Red SOUL's lack of agency.

Because of all those hints, Deltarune seems to be much more explicitly pointing toward that dark interpretation of Undertale - that the "Player"/Red SOUL is removing Kris's agency, regardless of route.

Indeed, I'm somewhat intrigued by the possibility that we/the Red SOUL might be forcing Kris to act nice just as much as we force them to act cruel. The way that Kris deliberately removes the Red SOUL in order to do some very suspicious actions might support that. As do some comments in Chapter 1, like characters in the post-Dark World walkaround noting how Kris is being less weird and more inquisitive than usual. Maybe Kris is the Knight and the Red SOUL is possessing them to undo their evil actions. Maybe the real Kris doesn't want to be friends with Susie and Ralsei at all!

But taking that interpretation to such an extreme also doesn't quite fit. Why does Kris slash the tires on Toriel's car? The only reason I can think of is that they want to keep Susie at their house. And why does Kris create the Dark World in their house? Is Kris creating the fountains because they want to have fun with friends? Especially right after the chapter emphasized how great the Dark World adventures were, that seems very likely.

There are also some smaller details too, of Kris interpreting the Red SOUL's input with their own spin (like saying things sarcastically), or of Kris chatting in a friendly way with Ralsei which the player/SOUL can't influence.

So, I'm pretty sure that even outside of the Red SOUL's control, Kris genuinely does like their friends.

Meanwhile, there were a lot of hints this chapter that Something Bad happened to Kris, Noelle, Dess, and Asriel when they went exploring in the forest by the graveyard. Most likely, they went into that ominous bunker south of the town. Is that incident related to Kris’s current strangeness?

And then, and THEN, there's the Snow Mercy route. That route seems to imply that the Red SOUL is both evil, and very much not Kris. Noelle says Kris isn't like themself, that their voice changes strangely, and she can still hear the creepy voice even when Kris is downed.

How to make sense of this all?

A Theory on Kris and the Red SOUL

One idea is that as scary and zombie-like as Kris looks without the SOUL, they're probably a nice, if lonely kid who desperately wants friends after their big brother went to college. (And possibly after something traumatic happened to them/their neighbor.) They're creating the Dark Worlds for the sake of fun and escapism.

But the Red SOUL puts an end to Kris's happy fantasies. Indeed, if the Red SOUL gives up, "the world is covered in darkness." So without the Red SOUL, would Kris simply keep creating fountains...? (What ARE the fountains, why can Kris and theoretically any Lightener create them?)

Maybe in the normal route, the Red SOUL is trying to gently help Kris move on and accept reality in some way. At the very least, I suspect Ralsei is working toward this goal.

But in that case... that's a pretty strange way for the Red SOUL to go about it, forcibly taking control of Kris to the point that the kid notices and seems to greatly resent it.

But what if the Red SOUL didn't have a choice about this arrangement either?

After all, the Red SOUL's customized vessel was discarded at the start of Chapter 1... and it was placed into Kris instead.

Here's a question: will Kris die if they're without a SOUL for too long?

Because there are an awful lot of moments in these games where characters break free of something they are bound to, but it doesn't end well: -Spamton collapses when his strings are cut. -The Darkeners can move freely outside their origin world for a while, but eventually turn to statues if they stay in another world. -Regardless of whether Berdly removes the Queen’s wires himself, he's exhausted and unable to fight any more after being under her control. -And when Kris takes the Red SOUL out of their body, their movements become slow and clumsy. Like it's a struggle for them to move at all.

Meanwhile in Undertale, post-Pacifist Asriel could maintain his form to say goodbye, but without SOUL(s), he inevitably returns to being Flowey.

So here's a theory: Kris died and/or lost their original soul. Perhaps due to some action/inaction on Noelle's part in the exploration incident. And as a last-ditch resort to keep them alive, the Red SOUL was somehow implanted in Kris.

(Also maybe Dess died/went missing at the same time...?)

And now, the Red SOUL the only thing keeping Kris around. 

But just like in Undertale, it seems like Deltarune SOULs have wills of their own.

Which means Kris's current state is similar to the Chara-Asriel fusion, or Omega Flowey, or even Frisk-Chara. Control of the body is shared. The difference is that instead of the SOUL we play representing the original owner/will of the body, this time the SOUL we're playing as is the intruder.

Essentially, this time around we are playing the role of the Chara-equivalent instead of the Frisk-equivalent!

(Though whether Kris themself is more of Chara or Frisk I’ll leave to other theorists...)

Anyway, while Kris likely wishes to be rid of the SOUL and dislikes this whole body sharing arrangement, they know they can't survive without it. And perhaps Kris being in a partially soulless state might explain why they do questionable stuff like creating Dark Worlds and slashing their mom's car tires in order to play with their friends. (Again, see also: Asriel/Flowey.)

But when the Red SOUL and Kris are in alignment, things go okay. The Red SOUL suggests commands, but Kris is willing to follow and seems to enjoy being with Susie and Ralsei.  

Let’s Talk About Snow Mercy

It's when the Red SOUL and Kris aren't in alignment... well. That seems to be what's happening in the Snow Mercy route. That kind of situation sure didn't go so hot with Frisk and Chara in Undertale, so I doubt this will end nicely for Kris and the Red SOUL either. At the very least, Kris seems to have been visibly upset after what happened with Noelle in this route.

(By the way, there are two other moments in Chapter 2 when Susie asks if Kris is okay - first after the normal Spamton NEO fight and subsequent discussion of what it meant and second after she and Kris approach the bunker.

Three different moments, but Kris appears to react similarly. Are all of these things related? The bunker, Kris being puppeted, and the events of the Snow Mercy route?)

Meanwhile, here’s a contrast. Undertale's Murder Route seemed to exist for the sake of curiosity and power - either the "Player" or Frisk's desires, whichever interpretation you subscribe to. And the changes to the world were all logical consequences of that - because of the Fallen Child's rampage, friendly NPCs disappear, major characters fight you more seriously, etc.

But the actions in Snow Mercy are... weirdly specific, weirdly unpredictable. It doesn't come across as a simple power trip. Instead, Snow Mercy is a bunch of really bizarre actions that feel even more mysterious to the player as they are to Noelle and Kris. I sure wouldn't have guessed that backtracking to the trash heap and freezing a bunch of enemies would lead to new items spontaneously appearing and then giving Noelle access to a scary new spell. It's like something straight out of a creepypasta!

The overall tone that comes across to me is that the Red SOUL seems to know what it's doing, even while the player is kept in the dark. And given Noelle's responses, it almost seems like the SOUL is trying to remind her of events/actions from her past, events which are obviously unknown to the player. All of which leads me to think that the Red SOUL has motives and goals of its own... so just like Undertale, this probably isn't a situation of the "Player" being a fourth wall-breaking force either.

The Red SOUL is its own character.

And I'm certainly curious to find out more about them!

#undertale #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #frisk #kris #chara #noelle #the red soul #no separate player #undertale analysis #deltarune analysis #my ramblings #read more #is this my first ever deltarune/undertale analysis post? #huh I think it is! #haha I guess I've always just been a reader until now

[sapphire-dreamsky]

Past, Present, Future

Starring: Yuuji Itadori, Nobara Kugisaki, Megumi Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Reader, Sukuna

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Warnings: Cheating is mentioned, Satoru might be ooc

A/N: I don’t condone cheating. I wanted this fic to be light and fun but it turned out a bit differently. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, in this fanfic, Satoru was an a** when he was younger.

It was not their fault they thought their sensei was single. While beautiful, Gojo was so immature that it was hard to imagine him with someone. This person deserves a trophy for being able to put up with the ball of energy and immaturity that was Gojo Satoru. Besides,...after the Kyoto Goodwill event, they heard some...ahem...interesting rumours concerning the white head. Apparently, their beloved idiotic sensei cannot settle down. There were so many rumours surrounding the strongest; some were hard to believe because of their level of ridiculousness, others were not so hard to believe because...well...it is Gojo Satoru. He could make anything possible. One of them, while ridiculous, seems highly probable. It was Utahime-sensei who told them about it when they pestered her about Gojo-sensei in his adolescent years. They wanted to be able to relate to him a little bit more. What they heard though, left their mind reeling with questions.

"Gojo-sensei dated more than twenty girls in a month?!"

That sounded so ridiculous, cruel, and impossible. However, Utahime was not one to lie or slander one's reputation like that. Even if it was someone as annoying as Gojo. After that, they were unable to picture their sensei as the type to settle down. It was just impossible. Even if that little anecdote was years ago, as Megumi specified to his friends. It was possible that Gojo changed and was not the same man anymore. But the other two’s minds were set on the fact that their sensei is a player. Or a serial-dater. Although, they have yet to catch him in the act. As of right now, they haven’t seen Gojo with anyone. Maybe Utahime did exaggerate his reputation a little after all. But their curiosity was already set. They wanted to catch their sensei in the act. So, they decided to trail their sensei when the latter was seen heading out in casual clothing and his horrible out-of-style glasses. Kugisaki sighed in despair when seeing the infamous pair of glasses on his face. She was persuaded that he couldn’t be heading out on a date with this offending accessory. 

Low and behold, they were able to trail Satoru without getting busted yet. Their training with the second-year students must have paid off! Or so the three ‘spies’ thought. Truthfully, Satoru noticed them a while ago. Actually, it was as soon as they left the school. But he thought their little game was amusing so he let it go on. After all, it wasn’t like he was trying to hide where he was going. If he was, he would have teleported to the alley near the cafe he loves to go to. Just thinking about the cafe and the sweets which they sell makes him salivate. He couldn’t wait to go and try out the new Friday special. So, with a new spring in his step, completely forgetting about his poor students who didn’t have long legs like his, he practically jogs to his favourite cafe, the new sweets calling for him. The three students curse as they are forced to practically run to catch up with their excited sensei. In their mind, Gojo was late as usual, and to not make his date angry, he was hurrying to their meeting place. An angry woman is scary. The proof of that statement lies in Kugisaki and Maki-senpai. Both were scary when angered.

The little cafe was quiet. There were not many people dining in. In fact, it was a perfect place to have a date in, Yuuji noted. Particularly if you don’t want to get caught dating multiple girls at the same time. Luckily for the three of them, the windows were see-through. They could easily see inside as their sensei plops down on one of the comfortable seats. Immediately, a waitress comes and takes his order. Yuuji and Nobara squint as they try to somehow decipher the exchange between the waitress and Gojo. 

‘‘Do you know what they are saying?’’

‘‘Of course not you idiot! They are too far.’’

The only proof of Gojo being on a date will have to be to see someone sit across Gojo then. The three of them desolate over that fact. Knowing their sensei, it could take forever before they realise he is, in the end, not on a date. 

‘‘I don’t think he is on a date.’’

Nobara and Yuuji look at Fushiguro with question marks on their head. The latter sigh, before pointing at their sensei.

‘‘If he was on a date, I think the date would have been waiting for a while now. No matter the circumstances, Gojo-sensei is always late.’’

‘‘Don’t you think he would try to make an exception for a date?’’, Yuuji ponders.

‘‘If he is dating around, I don’t think so. He could care less if he is on time.’’ After that, Nobara and Yuuji fell silent. They were losing their time after all. Sad and looking like kicked puppies at their failed mission, they were ready to head back to the campus when they noticed a young woman watching them with inquisitive eyes. 

‘‘Ah, uh, we were...uh’’

Yuuiji was not making any real sense as he tried to explain why they were hiding behind the bushes in the park. He quickly relaxes as she lets out a little laugh. ‘‘I see. So you are these guys then.’’ Before they could question her on what they mean, she continued. ‘‘Do you want to come to the little cafe? It’s on me.’’ 

That offer sounded suspicious but they were jujutsu sorcerers in training. They were sure they could handle a civilian. She doesn’t seem to have any curse energy. And if she was indeed linked to the group of curses after Yuuji, they could always count on their sensei who was currently typing on his phone. The woman’s phone went off at the same moment. Multiple arrays of texts follow each other. They felt sympathy for her phone as it seems to be getting bombarded by numerous texts. All of which she ignores as they follow her to the cafe. 

The inside of the cafe was as nice as they expected, if not much better. The smell of coffee and sweets was overwhelming but in a good way. Their sensei was seated at the far back of the cafe, meaning if they were noticed, they were screwed. They couldn’t really find any explanation on why a stranger would invite them in a cafe. One that is coincidentally the same as their sensei. Before they could steer away from the back though, the woman grabbed their shoulders and gently pushed them towards where their teacher was sitting. The latter was frowning at his phone, typing some more before the woman made her presence known. 

‘‘I’m here. There’s no need to send me multiple messages again.’’ 

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the three frozen students in front of him. ‘What is happening,’ is the only thought ringing in their minds as their teacher waved at them, grinning widely.

‘‘Oh? You found my beloved students?’’

‘‘They were hanging around in the bushes. You could have invited them in, instead of just sitting and dreaming about all the cavities you will get.’’

The woman sits in front of their teacher as the three young adolescents sit near her. They didn’t really understand the peculiar situation anymore. ‘Was this woman dating sensei?’ ‘She is far too nice to be dating him.’ ‘Oh no! She must not know about sensei’s reputation!’ These were the thoughts that simultaneously rang in their heads. One thing for sure, they had to warn her. She was nice enough to invite them on their date, they felt that she didn’t deserve the heartbreak. In fact, no woman deserved to be heartbroken by the cruelty of their sensei. 

The couple were discussing their respective days while waiting for the sweets Satoru ordered earlier. Both seemed to be on good terms, laughing at each other’s jokes. They were in all, having a good time. Yuuji felt guilty. What if in the end, Gojo-sensei was serious about her? But knowing their sensei, he had so many secrets that they felt they must at least tell her about Gojo’s habits. 

‘‘So...Uhm...Miss?’’

‘‘Ah. How rude of me! I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m (Y/N). You can just call me that. I don’t mind.’’

Her smile was so sweet that Kugisaki felt it was her duty to kick Gojo if he was indeed playing around.

‘‘How did you two meet? Are you a sorc- oof’’

The kick in the angle was by Megumi. The gloomy boy glared at Yuuji while drinking his drink silently. 

‘‘Funny thing is, we actually met when we were in high school. I didn’t go to that fancy school of yours though. I went to an all-girl school. I was in dire need of some sweets when we ran into each other and I spilled his drink. All over myself.’’

She glared at Gojo who only smiled innocently. He was not innocent, however. The students knew why the drink was only spilled on her while he remained spotless. 

‘‘And then did you start dating since then?’’

‘‘No. I hated him.’’ 

That statement did not surprise any of them. Gojo feigned hurt while he clutched onto his shirt. 

‘‘How could you hate me?! I am as sweet as a strawberry cake!’’

‘‘Maybe if someone poisoned it. Then yes. You would be the strawberry cake.’’

The students watched them banter back and forth. 

‘‘Then...when did you start dating?’’

‘‘Hmm...When did we start dating Satoru?’’

‘‘After I declared my love for you during our third meeting anniversary of course!’’

The students sweat-dropped. That sounds like something Satoru would do. 

‘‘But then...what about all the girls Utahime-sensei said you were dating? The twenty girls in a month?’’

Both Megumi and Nobara froze. As soon as the shock from Yuuji’s bluntness faded, they stomped on his feet. He winces at that. Even Sukuna, who didn’t mean to spy on them, but was curious about the annoying sorcerer let out a sigh at the lack of tack of his vessel. 

Satoru’s smile seemed frozen on his face. Nobody moved as they waited for the young woman’s reaction. The waitress brought in the sweets at that exact moment but no one dared to dig in the delicious food. Finally,

‘‘Oh, that. Yeah. I knew about it. Although it wasn't really twenty. It was five girls. He thought he was so slick with it too. He dated one of my ex-friends. I’m pretty sure you forgot about her though.’’

‘‘Ah...uh...I can’t remember…’’

Satoru seemed sheepish and awkward. Such a strange and alien sight of their always composed sensei.

‘‘Of course, you wouldn’t. You dated so many people I’m surprised they never found out. I would have slapped you if I was one of them. You got off easy.’’

(Y/N) drinks her coffee as if what she just said was a mere comment on the weather.  Satoru glances at his girlfriend every now and then while Yuuji was feeling awful. 

‘‘I am so sorry Gojo-sensei, (Y/n)-san! I shouldn’t have brought it up!’’

The female cocked her head to the side, throwing a slight smile in his way. 

‘‘It’s fine Itadori-kun. It’s not like I wanted to date him back then. I told you, didn’t I? I hated him.’’

This time, it was Kugisaki who was curious.

‘‘Then, how did you and sensei date? He dated your friend right?’’

(Y/n) shrugged carelessly, digging into her cake with her fork before thrusting it in Satoru’s face. The man was far too silent for his own good.

‘‘It was into our second years of being frenemies. He was awful as you must have heard. He was a true player back then. But then, mysteriously, he cleaned up his act. He broke up with my friend and seemingly with the other girls too. I didn’t see him hanging around the city with any girls for a good year, nor did he get any calls from any one of them when we hanged out. After all of this, my friend, the one who dated him, came to meet me after class and started shouting at me. Apparently, Satoru was in love with someone for real and after some digging, she came to the conclusion that it was my fault since I knew him as well. For her, I was jealous and tried to seduce him. It was a ridiculous and frivolous idea. Or so I thought. Because a year later that dork comes and tells me he loves me.’’

Yuuji and Megumi were in awe. So, their sensei really did go and date multiple girls at once? 

‘‘How were you certain he would never cheat?’’ This time it was Megumi asking the question. Surely, you must have had some reservations about dating such a character.

‘‘I was unsure of it too at first. I rejected him and stopped talking to him. He was persistent and wouldn’t stop. So I agreed to one date, which turned into multiple ones. As of now, I haven’t caught him cheating. But if he does, then I will get sad and leave him. I can’t stand cheaters. What he did is disgusting, but people do change I guess. That is, only if they really want to. A lesson for you kids. Don’t go and date someone who is horrible to you and think you can change them. In the end, only they can change themselves. They are not worth your time if they are stubborn and refuse to see the wrong in their actions.’’

She reaches over to squeeze Satoru’s hand. The latter was still quiet about it all. The silence continued even after the kids’ excused themselves, having been called back to the school by Nanami.

‘‘Aren’t you going to finish your cake? It’s your favourite, you know?’’

‘‘You know I would never cheat on you right? I was young and dumb and an asshole. And while I can’t take it back or apologise enough, I would never cheat on you.’’

(Y/n) only smiled at that. ‘‘I know. You have changed. You are not that guy anymore. You can’t change your past, but you can change your present self. I’m glad I met your students. They are a joyful bunch. When we have children one day, I hope they will be like them.’’ 

Satoru grinned, slowly reverting back to his old self. ‘‘I don’t know. I was thinking another me would be perfect.’’

‘‘If our child turns out like you, I’ll fear all my hair will turn as white as yours, dear. Now finish your cake. I want to go and check out that pet store you mentioned.’’

‘‘Right away, vanilla bean!’’

‘‘What did I tell you about nicknames Satoru?!’’

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo

[supercorpkid]

How Maya Met Your Mothers.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2730.

You’ve always known the day for Maya to meet your moms were closer than further down the line. That’s a fact. You had asked for too much self-control from Kara, not to follow your girlfriend around everywhere (and you are not even sure if she didn’t try to at least get a peek). But, yet, you had expected you were going to have a little more time than this.

Jamie and Maya came over your house for a study session. For real. When Jamie mentioned that you all should study together for next week exams, at first you thought it was a joke. But then Maya got super interested in having you teaching her physics, so you agreed.

You don’t know why you all ended up at your house. Actually, you kind of know. Maya’s parents hate the Luthors, so you can’t go there. Jamie’s house is a little bit further away and they would probably get tired of walking before getting there. Still, you feel like you haven’t fought back enough. You should’ve.

Although, being fair to yourself, you couldn’t possibly know there was a storm coming to National City that would literally make it impossible for you three to leave the house for hours. So, while there was a storm raging outside, you were looking at the clock, hoping, praying, wishing that Kara and Lena got held up at work.

Which could be true, using all the logic in your body. The rain is so strong, Supergirl will be needed for sure. There are probably people stuck in cars, or maybe there’s a flood in someone’s house, maybe there’s a poor kitten stuck on a tree in the rain. There’s gotta be something. And Lena is probably stuck in her office unable to leave. You breathe out, calming yourself. If Lena doesn’t leave her office early every day, she is definitely not leaving today while a storm rages on.

But when the clock strikes five, your heart beats fast, you raise your head from your book and you hear a whoosh of air, that very familiar one. Steps on the front door. And please Rao, let it be robbers, assassins, let it be Lex fucking Luthor out of jail with a big rock of kryptonite, but not your moms. Please. Please.

But is Kara who first walks in. Pink trousers, even pinkier shirt, dripping wet. And not far behind, Lena walks in. Suit all ruined, ponytail glued to her face, also dripping everywhere. Your heart stops for a second, when you look up from the kitchen table where the three of you have settled.

“Wow, it’s so crazy out there! Good thing we flew-” Kara finally notices a face she doesn’t know. She quickly puts her glasses back. “Here on a car.”

Good Lord.

“Hey, I don’t think we have met!” She comes closer, ignoring Lena’s protests about making the entire house wet. She raises her hand at Maya, who shyly takes it.

“Maya.”

“OOOH!” Kara sounds like she just got electrocuted. She is almost jumping in place when she realizes what that means. “It’s nice to meet you! I would love to say that she-” She looks at you with an inquisitive expression. “Told me everything about you, but she’s definitely going through a phase of secret keeping.”

“Momma!” You growl hiding your face in your hands. Maya just chuckles softly at that.

“Aren’t we all?” Jamie intervenes, sensing your embarrassment and you take one hand out from your face to look at Kara pulling the chair in front of you.

“Kara!” Lena calls her from the front door. “Don’t you dare get my chair wet. Come over here, you can embarrass our daughter after you’re dry.”

“Or never.” You add. “You also can embarrass me never.”

“I’ll be right back.” Kara says, completely ignoring you, as she makes her way to the laundry room with Lena, so they can get dry clothes.

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head, trying to hide the blush creeping up your face. Maya puts her hand on your chin and makes you look at her, giving you a smile.

“Stop that. It was really cute.” Maya says, and you gaze into her eyes, almost forgetting everything and everyone. If it wasn’t for Jamie.

“Nope, it was embarrassing. And just you wait until aunt Lena comes here.” Jamie adds and you drop your head again, growling louder.

Lena decides not to play into the ‘let’s embarrass our daughter’ game. And you’re very grateful for that.

“Hey.” She just says while passing through the table. And you breathe relieved. Until she stops with a tiny smile. No, no, no. Keep walking. “Hello Maya, I’m Lena. The scary mom.”

“You wish.” Kara comes from behind her. Hair is still dripping wet, but all changed into more comfortable and dry clothes. She pulls out the chair and sits in front of the three of you, trying to look intimidating. “I’m the scary one.”

“She’s really not.” Jamie whispers in Maya’s ear, and you put your head on the table, banging your forehead ever so slightly so you don’t make a dent in it.

“Would you stop, please?” You complain. “We’re trying to study.”

“BOOOO!” Kara puts her hands in front of her mouth turning to you. “You’re no fun.” Then she proceeds to look at Maya. “So Maya, how old are you? What’s your sexuality? Where do you see yourself in five years? And most importantly, how do you feel about Supergirl?”

You snap your head at her at the sound of that.

“Because in this house we’re Supergirl stans.” Kara adds, making Jamie laugh out loud, and you grunt louder.

“Oh, I’m-” Maya thinks about it for a second.

“You don’t have to answer any of that.” You look at her and she smiles at you.

“It’s ok, babe.” She turns back at Kara. “I’m sixteen, I’m pansexual-” That makes Kara squeak in excitement. “In college, hopefully. And yes, Supergirl is cool. But, um, I like Superkid better.”

“WHAT?” You look at her, eyes wide open, mouth agape. She doesn’t know you’re Superkid, and she likes her better than Supergirl? Is she the perfect girl?

“Well, ok, don’t freak out, but…” She looks at you and holds your arm, squeezing it gently. “I kind of have a crush on Superkid.”

“You do?” It’s all you can say.

Kara is practically jumping on her seat, ready to stand up and spin you around in excitement. Lena is trying very hard to hold back laughter (she’s failing, by the way). Jamie is literally cackling next to her. And you’re there, looking red, but also happy.

“Why is this funny?” Maya looks around at the reactions. “She is hot.”

“Oh no, dear, we’re not laughing at you.” Lena says, knowing the situation doesn’t look good. “It’s just, you know, she is the Supergirl of your time.” She shrugs. “I, for once, had a huge crush on Supergirl when I was younger.”

“Wait. What?” Kara stands up, looking worried. “You don’t have it anymore?”

“Well, no, honey.” Lena smiles, putting her arms around Kara’s neck. “Now I have you.”

“No!” You yell to stop what you know it’s coming next. “That’s too much. There are people here.”

“We’ll give you guys some privacy.” Kara tilts her head with a devious smile. Holding Lena by the waist, leaving you guys behind.

“I’m sorry again. They’re not usually like-” You start, but Jamie cuts you off.

“She is lying. They are always like this.”

“It’s ok.” Maya gives you a butterfly kiss that barely touches your lips, but makes you smile either way. “Besides, I find your momma completely fascinating.”

“Funny. So does she.” You can hear Kara gasping somewhere in the house and you hold a laughter. She is such a dork!

Your moms are gone for a while, during that time you three go back to study. Kara comes in sometime later on her phone.

“Yes Alex, she’s not lying, she is actually here studying.” Kara points the camera to the three of you, and Jamie crosses her arms, annoyed. You just wave hello.

“You thought I was lying?” Jamie complains.

“I never once saw you studying with your cousin, forgive me for assuming you were being a rebellious teenager.” You hear Alex’s voice on the other end of the phone. “But I see there’s a new addition to the group.”

“That’s Maya.” Kara whispers on the phone like you all can’t hear her.

“Oh.” Alex stays silent for a few seconds and then you hear. “Hey, I work for the police. You just think about breaking my niece’s heart.”

“Oh my God, can you all stop?” You grunt looking at Jamie for help, and she stands up going to Kara and grabbing the phone from her hand.

“Can you come pick me up when the storm gets better?” Jamie asks and she walks to the living room with Kara following her closely.

“Again, I’m really sorry.” You look at Maya with pleading eyes. “I know you probably want to run away, but please, don’t. My mom is probably going to try to scare you, but we’re all very much harmless.” You smile a little. “Except for Jamie’s mom, she is terrifying.”

“Trust me, I’m ok.” Maya looks furtive around, and puts her hand on your cheek, coming closer to kiss you. “I get why they’re so protective. I mean, just look at this cute babyish face of yours.”

“She can call you babyface and I can’t?” Kara walks in the kitchen with Jamie not far behind, making Maya jump in her seat and get as far away from you as she can, without leaving her chair.

“So, Maya.” Lena walks in the kitchen too, and you’re already hating her tone. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Um, I should call my mom first.” She stands up grabbing her phone, and you point to the living room so she can have more privacy. She leaves and you look at your moms on the other side of the counter.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You stand up, putting your books away. “I couldn’t possibly know a storm would hit National City making impossible for her to get away from you two.”

“Hey!” Kara defends herself. Lena only raises her eyebrow. You look at Kara, turning her head to the living room, and you poke her.

“Do not listen to her private conversation!” You demand and you look back at Jamie, also organizing her school materials.

“Yeah, aunt Kara. Don't use your super hearing, aunt Kara. Bad, aunt Kara. Yadda, yadda, yadda.” Jamie says and you furrow your brows at her. “What, she only does what she wants anyways.”

“Momma!” You’re almost jumping in front of her and she looks down on you. “That’s not ok.”

“Kara, stop messing with her.” Lena says from behind and Kara gives you a mischievous smile, like she wasn’t really listening, just pretending to. “Are you sleeping here tonight, Jamie?”

“Only if the storm doesn’t stop.” Jamie comes to the counter and looks at the food in front of Lena. “Oooh, are we having the famous Lena Luthor’s ‘throw everything in a casserole and see what comes out’ dinner?”

“You were way nicer when you were a kid.” Lena blinks once, looking annoyed and Jamie holds her laughter.

“Sorry, aunt Lena.”

“Hey, so, is it ok if I stay a little longer? My dad is still stuck at work because of the storm.” Maya asks, coming back to the kitchen and you look at Kara. Kara looks at Lena. And it takes them a whole ten seconds to finally go like “um, yeah, sure.” Which almost makes your heart stop.

“Why don’t you three go to the living room while I-” Lena looks at Jamie, defiant. “Throw everything in a casserole and wait to see what will come out?”

“Oh God.” You grab Jamie’s wrist, and put your hand behind Maya’s back. “Let’s go. They’re being awkward.”

“You’re awkward.” Kara mumbles under her breath and you’re glad you only heard, because of your super hearing.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time. Maya and Jamie are talking, laughing, taking pictures, and you’re there awkwardly pretending your mind isn’t somewhere else. What are they planning? Obviously, Kara has done enough of embarrassing, but what about Lena? Is she actually going to let it slide? That doesn’t sound like her.

Kara calls you guys back to the kitchen a while later. You know Lena wasn’t going to throw everything into a casserole and hope it works, but after Jamie joked about it, it was exactly what she did. She puts the food in the middle of the table, and raises one eyebrow at Jamie.

“You first.” Then she uses her tone that sends shivers down your spine.

“What is happening?” Maya whispers in your ear, and you look at her feeling like you should apologize once more.

“They’re challenging each other. It’s silly.” You whisper back, aware that only Kara can hear you.

“I can’t stop watching.” Maya mouths at you, and you smile. Lena and Jamie still haven’t broken eye contact and no one is moving.

“Go on.” Lena pushes it closer to Jamie, who gulps and finally serves herself. Everyone is staring at her while she puts the first bite on her mouth and chews silently. She shrugs a while later.

“It’s actually pretty good.” Jamie says with a smile, making everyone breathe out, and Lena rolls her eyes, finally sitting on the table. She then turns to Maya.

“Please. Girlfriends first.” She uses the same tone, and Maya’s eyes almost pop out of their head, before she shakes her head agreeing and serving herself.

The food is not all bad. It could be a lot better if she wasn’t trying to scare everyone off. But is edible and a lot better than anything Kara can make on her own.

“So, Maya…” Kara starts again and you already feel your heart is going to beat out of your chest. “What’s up with the hate for the Luthors?”

Great. Just great. Awesome. Thank you, momma.

Maya chokes on her food, surprised by such a blunt question, and you want to dig a hole on the floor and disappear in it.

“Oh, um. I don’t hate the Luthors, ma’am.” She manages to say. “My parents are not, um, fans. Because of that time Lex tried to control everyone. You know-”

“We know.” Lena breathes deep, looking exhausted. “Trust me, we know.”

“But I know you did amazing things for the world, and every time you work with Supergirl the world is saved, so…” Maya smiles, and you make heart eyes at her. She is so amazing. “I’m sorry about my parents. Not everyone can see past such a small thing as a last name.”

“Oh.” It’s Kara’s response.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Lena says with a smile directed at her, and you see her features softening. “I just want to make sure my daughter is not being judged with the same standards as my crazy brother. But you know her, so I don’t think you can.”

“I really can’t.” Maya looks back at you, making you blush. “There’s no one in this world like her. She needs her own standards.”

“Aw.” Jamie and Kara say together, making you blush harder.

The dinner goes smoothly after this. It’s pretty clear Maya won your moms over. You always knew she could. No, you didn’t know, but you expected. No, you didn’t expect, but you hoped. And she did.

When dinner is over, there’s only a light rain outside, so Maya’s dad picks her up right after. Lena and Jamie make up over ‘the best dessert Lena ever cooked”, and you look around happy. Kara comes close to you and kisses your temple.

“I like her.” She says matter-of-factly.

“Oh, is that why you were trying to make her run away?” You raise one eyebrow at her and she chuckles softly.

“We’re not a normal family, baby.” She tells you, looking at Lena and Jamie laughing on the other side of the counter. “She has to get used to it now. It only gets weirder.”

“You’re weirder.” You bitch grin making Kara laugh.

She’s right though. Your family is weird. But it’s yours, and you love it as it is.

Notes:

@itzyourgirlnat prompted them being stuck in a storm together. My best buddy @hermen0404 helped me with some ideas. Thanks to you both.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp daughter #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #lena x reader #reader insert

[the-silentium]

Murphy day

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3726 words

Warnings: Nothing really.

A/N: This is pure madness! @shadow-hyder this is your fault! Also, this will be a 3 part story so stay tuned for what'll happen next!

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Right now, you didn’t know why you ever thought that getting out today was a bad idea. Sure, it was kinda against the rules and there was a long list of reasons as to why it was against the rules, but seeing the two armored clones dangling upside down meters above the ground, their limbs entangled in the thick lianas, their whines reaching your ears, you quickly forgot all the consequences that were waiting for you if you got caught. This was worth any forced work and fine thrown at you.

You stood there, a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from exploding into a fit of laughter, hidden on a large tree branch above the two soldiers. You listened to them insulting the foliage and thrashing around like it would change something. Clearly, they’ve never come to your planet before, or else they would know that the more they moved the lianas would squeeze them tighter into their grips. 

Despite your amusement at their expense, you kept an eye out for any predator lurking around. It would definitely darken your day if they were to be attacked. But then again, Murphy day spared no one. Your hand wrapped around your hunting knife, its carved wooden handle reassuring you that you weren’t defenseless and that luck was on your side. 

You ducked under an enormous leaf when you registered a movement in the corner of your eye, but not before making sure that it wasn’t a loth wolf or something more unfriendly. It definitely wasn’t a loth wolf, but you weren’t sure if they were friendly. One of the two new clones was way too big for your liking and the custom paint of his helmet didn’t put you in confidence, as opposed to the one with the glasses.

“Sorry for the wait Sarge!” A booming voice almost made you jump and lose your balance on the branch. “We got lost for a bit there!” 

“At least you made it. Now get us out of here. Being upside down is giving me a headache and I can't concentrate.” The trooper with the half black, half white helmet answered, wriggling around to try and see the newcomers. “Those things can’t be cut.” 

You smiled to yourself, the voice of your dad echoing in your mind. A sharp knife will not always help you. But a sharp mind will. And so, you chuckled silently to yourself, before sitting on the branch, your back to the trunk and head tilting to the side so you could keep sight on the bunch of soldiers. 

One of them walked forward while typing on something on his wrist rapidly, the bigger one following suit. 

“Tech, how do we get them down?” 

“Genlisea filiformis is a carnivorous plant-”

“A what?!” The second one that dropped the sniper rifle earlier yelled. You rolled your eyes at his panic. 

“A carnivorous plant, Crosshair. Now stop moving. The lianas will continue tightening every time you move.” His head moved slightly from side to side, seemingly reading. “Oh, this is interesting. They eat their prey by dissolving the flesh with an acid oozing from the lianas. Now, you guys should be okay with your composite armor. Don’t worry.” 

You snorted, a bit too loudly. Your hands flew to your mouth, whilst the rest of your body froze in fear that someone heard. Against all odds, you were still off the radar, your sound escaping them completely under Sarge's grunts of pain and the insults of the slim guy who you assumed was Crosshair. 

“All we have to do is to find the head of the plant. The weak point of the lianas is at the base of the head, where the lianas start.” 

As he finished his sentence, you pushed the leaf covering you aside so you could be at the front row of their realization. This was going to be gold.

“Hear that Sarge? We just need t-” His voice stopped as soon as he tried to take a step forward, his feet stuck under 15 cm of the stickiest artificial resin found on this planet. 

Just to make it better, his companion spotted the head of the plant and with all his determination behind his step, he tried to lift his foot, only to lose balance when it didn't move an inch and fell on his hands in the resin. 

That's when your laughter erupted, loud enough to cover the whines of the smallest soldier, bouncing between the trees and stopping each Bad Batcher's heart in surprise. Tears quickly gathered in your eyes, almost making you fall off your safe spot when you lifted your hand to wipe away the droplets. 

"You! Get down here!" Sarge barked, causing you to chuckle as your laughter died down. 

"Are your panties in a twist, Sarge? Did one of the lianas get in there?" You sassed, putting your knife back in the side pocket of your boot and carefully jumping down your branch to another one below. 

You made your way towards them, moving from tree to tree, avoiding any liana that was courageous enough to grow that far away from its roots and stopped just where the branches ended and the mess of lianas started. 

"Hey there!" You smirked, waving innocently at the upside down trooper two meters away from you. 

"Get us down." Growled Crosshair. 

"Oh sure. I love helping people who are as abrasive as sandpaper." You tilted your head to the side, putting on your best innocent expression. 

Once again, he trashed around, surely trying to get a hand free so he could grab… something? You were too far off his reach so he couldn't possibly want to grab you. Maybe a blaster? Unfortunately for him, you saw them fall on the ground earlier. 

"Listen. I-" His grunt of pain made you frown in concern. Your father always told you that you were way too empathetic for this big bad world. "We need help. Please." He sounded out of breath and it was more than you needed to get working. 

With a nod, you walked the length of your perch, jumped in another tree, climbed down to the jungle floor and avoided every puddle of resin the kids of the village had dropped around to prank passers by. 

"She's good." The booming voice surprised you again. 

"She's native and knows what she's doing." You said, putting on your gloves and reaching for your knife. "Ready?"

The two suspended clones grunted in approval. 

You made sure they wouldn't fall head first in the resin and with a few quick motions, you slashed the head off the rest of its body, sticky pale green juices oozed from the cuts and created a small film of smoke where it touched the blade. 

Two yelps reached your ears, but you couldn't care much, instead you jumped to the nearest patch of grass where you removed most of the acid from the smoking blade. 

"Are you alright?" At the question, you turned to assess if one of them broke their neck in the fall. For once, luck seemed to be on their side as they were both seating on their ass, helmets off massaging their heads where you were sure they could feel their heartbeat. 

"'m fine Tech." Sarge answered. He looked worse than his sniper friend, who glared at you when he felt your eyes on him. 

"You trapped us." He accused, getting on his feet to make his way towards you. 

 "What? No!" Jumping backward to avoid his hand, you tumbled to the ground but quickly rolled over to get back on your two feet. "Don't touch me!" You yelled, still avoiding his attempts at grabbing you. You didn't want to threaten him with a knife because you were sure to lose and he would touch you, but your mind did think about it. 

"Crosshair." Sarge barked, calling back his sandpaper soldier. 

If possible, the grey haired clone's glare intensified, burning a hole into your head, freezing you in place. Damn was he scary. You almost regretted cutting the lianas. 

"Won't hurt you." He muttered, still glaring. 

"Says you." You circled around him so you could go back to the rest of the clones, more importantly closer to Sarge who seemed more reasonable. You positionned yourself behind him, you know, just to be sure. 

"Can you get them out too?" Sarge asked you over his shoulder, giving you a perfect view of his tattoo. You were impressed. Never did you think that a facial tattoo could look so good on someone. Seemed like you were wrong. So so very wrong. 

You nodded. "On one condition." 

Frowning, he turned around to face you completely. 

"What?" 

I wanna touch your tattoo.

"No one touches me." His eyebrow shot up in an inquisitive manner and oh damn you wanted to touch the dark ink. 

"We won't hurt you." He reiterated Crosshair's words. You shook your head. 

"Not like that. I don't want your bad luck on me. Because clearly, you guys" You gestured around them with your both hands. "emanate bad luck." Your hands fall to your side. "The baddest bad luck I've seen in my life." 

"We don't have bad luck! We are lucky! We have a 100% success rate!" Bigger guy in the resin barked before laughing. 

"100% success rate eh? That's bad luck." You took a step back for your sake. Too much success always bite you in the arse one day. Looked like their elastic broke today. Lucky them. 

"You know that superstitions are not true, right? It's irrational." Smaller dude who removed his gloves to stand told you. Tech, if you heard right.

Wait. What? 

"Do you guys know what planet you're on?" You were baffled by the lack of knowledge they had on your planet. For sure, you would have thought that they would get as much information on a planet before getting there and running around? 

"Fors. A jungle planet of the Outer Rim. Rich in resources but not exploited because of the thick and dangerous flora." 

You nodded. "So you should know that here, what you all call superstitions are the real deal, right?" Your eyes found Sarge's brown one and you sigh at the lack of recognition. "Ok. If I were you, I'd get away from Fors real' quickly. You're all wearing black which represents death and your perfect success rate very probably attracted the curse of evil eye on y'all. Plus, we are today." 

You walked to a nearby tree, crouched to search the ground around its roots for a particular cavity. 

"What's wrong with today?" Sarge finally got on his feet, fetching his fallen blaster in a bush. 

"Today's Murphy day. The 13th day of the month. Usually there's a good balance between luck and bad luck. But today, it's only bad luck. Laws forbid anyone on the planet to get out of their home for the whole day to prevent accidents and other stuff." 

After your third tree, you found the hole you were looking for. Without a thought, you stuck your hand in the hole, searching around for the container the kids always leave near the traps. 

"So you're breaking the law." Crosshair pointed out, to your exasperation. 

"Exactly. But I don't intend to get caught so I should be fine." You huffed. "Thank you."

"You don't seem affected by bad luck." Tech quirked. 

"Knock on wood!" You said while knocking the trunk of the tree you were searching. 

Your hand found the bottle and pulled it out with a victory cry, the dark blue liquid shining in the sun like the night sky illuminated by its stars. You grinned, shaking the bottle. 

"Now, do we have a deal? Keep your hands to yourselves and I free the two remaining dudes from the kids' trap." 

With his hands slightly in the hair, Sarge nodded. "We won't touch you. Go ahead."

"Okay! Let's do this." Taking a deep breath, you opened the lid and dropped half the bottle at the big one's feet, the other half on Tech’s. 

The resin started dissolving on itself at the liquid's contact, freeing the troopers in under a minute. You backed off so they had room to join the rest of their squad. At a good distance, you allowed yourself to breathe again. 

"Thanks miss! I'm Wrecker." The biggest guy lifted his helmet a bit so he could wear it as a hat, a smile almost splitting his face in half. You immediately noted the scar on the side of his face as well as the cybernetic eye, but something inside your mind told you he wasn't as bad as you initially thought. He seemed too childish to be bad. 

"Nice to meet you Wrecker. The name's Y/N." You waved with a smile of your own. 

"I'm Tech." He removed his helmet, a smile of his own curving his lips. The name definitely suited him to a T. You waved back.

 "Sarge and Crosshair, right?" You asked, pointing to the remaining ones. 

"Sergent Hunter." He corrected as the other merely grunted in response. "Thank you for helping us." It wasn't a complete smile, but the corners of his lips perked up so you'll take it. 

"You're all very much welcome. I hope you all get back safely to your ship!" You put back your knife in its pocket and turned around to climb back into the tree next to you. You jumped to the closest thick branch, used your strong arms to pull you up on it and stand without much of a problem. You climbed a bit more until you found a branch big enough to walk its length. 

"Have a nice Murphy day and good lu-" The words died in your throat, instead morphing into a surprised yelp when your foot didn’t quite go where you wanted it to and caught in a tiny branch that totally refused to break, interfering with your balance. Your hands flew to your face to protect yourself from the smaller branches and leaves scratching at your skin, a quick peek informed you that the ground was coming way too quickly for your liking, your eyes closed in anticipation of the inevitable face plant impact. 

The pain wasn’t quite as you imagined, instead of hurting your front, hands, face and very possibly your spine, strong arms caught you in the air, the abrupt stop causing you to hit your chin onto a hard piece of armor, clattering your teeth together in the process. Thank the Maker, you didn’t bite your tongue off.

Confused, hurt and out of breath, you tried to comprehend what happened by looking around at the best of your capacity, being trapped between two arms as large as trunks. Concerned mismatched eyes met yours, seconds before the ground finally touched your feet delicately. Your eyes went wide as soon as your brain finally registered what happened and who cushioned your fall, panic making you push the large chest away from you so suddenly that you fell on your behind in a patch of tall grass. Wrecker tried to catch you in your fall again, missing your arm from an inch. 

“You okay?” He retracted his arms and stood tall again, Tech and Hunter approaching behind him, concern written all over their faces. 

“Yeah”. You sighed, letting your head roll backwards. Shooking your head, you watched the treetops, all the leaves and mazes of branches, the rare brave birds still watching you from above. Maybe they had the answer as to how you could survive this day. “Thanks for catching me Wrecker.” One of your hands massaged your aching chin.

“No problem Y/N!” His smile came back as soon as he was certain that you were fine, although it was short lived because you soon let yourself fall onto your back in defeat.

“This day starts so badly.” You muttered. You remember leaving your home at 6, early enough that a very few people were awake, but late enough so you could use the first rays of the sun to guide yourself. “I should’ve stayed home.” You snorted. “I’ll probably die from something very stupid.” 

“Well, if you hadn’t come out today, we would still be trapped, so the least we could do is help you  survive the day. How does that sound?” Hunter’s gravelly voice almost made you shiver. 

You shot back up, immediately extending a hand toward the Sergeant from your seated position. “Very fair. Deal.” 

With a nod, he grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. Maybe he was used to pulling up his brothers or he simply miscalculated, but the amount of force behind his pull was unnecessary, propelling you right into his armored chest where you hit your face. 

You yelped in pain, hands reaching for your nose in a hurry. No blood. No broken bone. You sighed in relief.

“Sorry for that.” He seemed so confused it was almost hilarious. You definitely would have laughed if only your nose wasn’t ready to explode.

“It’s fine. ‘s not your fault. It’s today! You lose control of yourself a little and end up creating accidents all around you.” With a last check up that your nose wasn’t bleeding, you took a step aside to create a bit of space between you and the rest of them. “So, where’s your ship?” 

“Latitude 45.400972. Longitude -75.79851.” Tech answered while typing on the screen on his wrist. 

You were deeply confused despite having completed all mandatory classes in your village school. He was speaking a whole different language, you were sure of it. Did clones have a language? They were the first ones you ever encountered, not a lot of people liked to venture out into the Outer Rim where the planets weren’t very significant to anyone. Now that you thought about it, you’d love to see a battle on Murphy day. You were sure it would be catastrophingly funny to watch. Minus the fact that people would really die. Okay. Not so fun after all. 

“About an hour of walk this way.” Tech clarified, his eyes scanning your too deeply thinking face. 

“Okay!” You turned in the direction he pointed and started walking, jumping over the resin puddles. "You made it this far, I'm sure we can all make it back there without dying on the way!" You said, crossing your fingers. 

"Stop talking." Crosshair growled beneath his helmet. 

Duly noted. At the rhythm the day was going, you knew he'd regret his comment at some point. All you had to do was wait. So with the fakest smile you've ever had to use on your face, you turned around quickly and mimed to zip your lips before turning back around to watch your steps. 

Maybe it was a bad idea to follow them. You didn't know them until 10 minutes ago, they were four trained soldiers with blasters and military training, three seemed friendly enough and the last one was as cuddly as a porcupine. On your end, all you had to rely on was your excellent knowledge of the environment, your hunting knife and your precious tap. 

You tapped your pants pocket to ensure that it was still in your possession when quick steps alerted you of a clone keeping you company. 

"Don't listen to him. I'd love to know why luck has that much importance on this planet." Tech joined you at the front, helmet back on his head. "If you don't mind." He added when he met your questioning gaze. 

"People really don't know much about us, do they?"

You didn't blame them though. Who would want to venture on a planet where you didn't have the power over yourself, but something as volatile as luck did? 

"I'm afraid there aren't much more information on Fors other than datas about the minerals that can be found in underground caves."

"I'm not surprised." You scoffed. Your planet was extremely rich in precious minerals that the republic and the separatists would love to have to help found their war expenses, if it wasn't of the dangers passing as defenceless flora, adorable killing creatures and bewitching deadly smells. 

"Okay. Where to start…" You taped your chin, disentangling the different events and remembering your history classes. "You see, Fors is alive, like any other planet, but the difference is that it feeds on beliefs. It eh… apparently it's a field cast a very long time ago that enveloppe the planet and would cause all the luck, bad luck stuff."

Your hand shot up to push back against Tech's chest just as he was about to step in a prank trap,  falling in with him anyway when he tripped on his own feet. With a yelp, your other hand flew out, wrapping tightly around the first thing available, meaning nothing. 

Fortunately for you, Tech fell first into the phosphorescent mixture, saving your front from a disastrous quantity of disgusting liquids to come in contact with your body. You got away with only your pants in the mixture, so all in all, this was a good outcome. Although, with a silent gag, you hurriedly pushed yourself off the completely covered clone, away from the nasty smell and the oily prank. 

"What is in that? And why is there so many traps here!?" Tech yelped indignantly once he was on his feet, removing the most of the pale yellow thing out of his glasses. 

"Believe me, you really don't want to know what's in there. And for your second question, the kids love to trap strangers!" You pulled on a big leaf behind Hunter who dodged out of your way so you could remove a layer of the substance from your pants. 

"What's in that?" Whispered Hunter once he moved to your side, slightly bending to be closer to your ear. Wrecker's roaring laugh drowning his smaller brother's curses. 

"Phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke." You snickered. Poor Tech. It would have been much more hilarious would it have been the glaring tooth prick who fell in the trap. On the bright side, predators should stay away from your little group now. 

"R.I.P." You finally exploded in laughter. 

This was going to be the best yet the worst day of your life!

#bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #star wars #clone wars #this is going to be a hell of a ride #murphy day

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Monsters in the Closet

Title: Monsters in the Closet

Summary: “You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.” 

 Roman knows he can’t change the past. He can’t change the way he treated Virgil horribly, driving him to feel the only way he could be accepted was to be the villain of the story. But he can sit there and feel guilty knowing he is not worthy of any of the trust this young Virgil has placed in him. 

(Part of the Tiny Virgil verse, takes place after An Itsy Bitsy Nightmare)

Word-Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Brotherly Prinixety

Warnings: Guilt, Panic/Anxiety, Treating Someone Wrongfully in the Past, Deaging, Hurt/Comfort

This part of a very late birthday present for @theeternalspace! I’m so sorry this took so long, please forgive me and I hope you enjoy! :)

-

Roman lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. Virgil is still snuggled close to his chest, asleep again after waking up what appeared to be a horrible nightmare. Roman can’t find himself to fall back asleep. His mind refuses to settle, refuses to let go of what Virgil said to him moments ago. 

“You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.”

The words rumble in Roman’s mind like that of a great and fearsome thunderstorm. How could it not? All the more confirmation that regardless of the unfounded trust young Virgil placed in him, he’d still expected to inevitably be treated terribly.

And that? The guilt of that stings deeper than any sting of the blade or a bandersnatch’s ferocious bite.

It also makes him wonder what exactly the Ankle-Terror thought was going on. Kids aren’t stupid. Naïve, yes, but that’s different from being stupid. They’re creative and innovative in ways adults couldn’t dream to be. Plus, they tended to love engaging in-depth conversations about Disney. 

Sometimes, Roman misses the days when Thomas was a kid. Back when they were free to run around in the backyard and reimagine the swings as a spaceship or the underneath of the trampoline as the lair of an evil sorcerer. Back when they weren’t bound by inane things such as time constraints and the logistics of translating an idea into a real-world possibility. 

He could get Thomas and the others roped in a fantastical make-believe for hours. Weeks even of stretching an incredible imaginary world to its limits. The only things that ever stood in their way was the outside forces of school, parents and bedtime.

Nowadays, the reminiscing with a tinge of regret. There always had to be villains to fight, you see. An evil mad scientist. A corrupt king. A greedy dragon. The list goes on and on. He never ever played the villain. He’d always cast himself and Thomas as the heroes. Logan and Patton were the supporting stars. Virgil and the rest? The villains through and through. 

Virgil at this age would be used to this treatment. Rather than in his rightful heroic role as Protector, Defender, Watcher of All Perceived Threats--he played roles such as a wicked sorcerer who cast fear and disgrace upon the entire kingdom with his heinous sorcery.

He took to the roles without much grumbling. Oftentimes, he didn’t perform to young Roman’s expectations. Roman would chastise his performances, critiquing every bit. He wasn’t ever scary or evil enough for a Side responsible for making Thomas scared of monsters under his bed.

Virgil would also veto actions such as climbing super high up a tree and using it as a crow’s nest for a pirate ship. Much to Roman’s dismay, the others would side with him. Logan because Thomas could break a bone if he should fall and Patton because their parents wouldn’t approve. Thus making Virgil a major downer at times in Roman’s eyes and all the more deserving of the villain title.

It wasn’t until Thomas was older, closer to middle school, that Virgil started lashing out. He refused to play along, slinking off to sulk in his room. His influence had also grown and suddenly it wasn’t just monsters under the bed anymore--the monsters were everywhere. Homework, Teachers, Friends, Family. Roman worked overtime to help Thomas escape to worlds unfettered by these fears.

Of course, back then, he presumed this was Virgil fully showing his true colors as an antagonist. Thomas himself believed it, wishing vehemently for Virgil to just disappear. It was Roman’s responsibility, nay his purpose, to make Thomas’s dreams and desires come true. He was the Fairy Godmother to Thomas’s Cinderella. So for years and years he’d pursued this dream, desperate to make Thomas happy, proud even.

Now, he knows better. He knows that Virgil is more than just Anxiety, just like Roman and the others are more than what their title implies. He is vigilant, he keeps Thomas safe from external threats. Sometimes he can be overzealous, but he means well. And shutting him out isn’t the answer. It never was. 

With all that in mind, he wonders if the Boy Terror thinks this is one of Roman’s elaborate make-believe games. Roman could easily picture a younger him coming up with a make-believe game involving himself and the others being adults. True, Thomas back then liked envisioning himself as a kid defeating the evil dragon like kids his age did in the media he watched. 

But all kids at some point wonder what it’d be like to be an adult. They imagined themselves in the most exciting professions that made a real impact on the world. Then they’d grow up and very few of them made it to such professions.

(Except Thomas of course. Roman is incredibly proud of him and his accomplishments as an Ex-Viner turned Youtuber. Yes, they are still far from achieving feats such as Hollywood or Broadway, but still! For a while Thomas had to settle for a real, sensible job such as a chemical engineer. While science interested him, it didn’t drive him the way that creative pursuits such as singing and acting had. Thomas is lucky to be able to have a platform to do what he loves. Roman tries reminding himself of this during incredibly rare moments of insecurity.)

Kid Fright must be ecstatic about this. For possibly the first time in his life Creativity is including him in a game without making him the villain. Adult Virgil doesn’t talk much about the past--the few times Roman has tried to breach the topic it’d been an instant shutdown. 

But Virgil has always cared for them, even before they’d all realized this. He must’ve taken any part Roman gave him out of a desperation to be with them and keep them safe. It sickens Roman just thinking about it. He doesn’t know how Virgil stayed strong for so long. Roman doesn’t know if he could’ve lasted a day in Virgil’s place.

He is probably also terrified and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Regardless of his age, Virgil always expects the worst out of any scenario. Even now that’s been a year since he’s been accepted among the core sides that make up Thomas. He can’t help it, it’s in his nature. Roman can’t blame him for it. One year isn’t enough to undo the damages that the other twenty-nine years caused.

One thing is for certain: if he does think this is one of Roman’s make-believe games, he must think Thomas is still a kid. And Roman’s not sure if he should let Virgil know any different. In fact, it might be best to keep Virgil distracted while the others work to find the solution to this strange vexing problem. Because he knows Virgil won’t take it well to finding his host all grown-up. He thinks that none of them would in his place.

So he’ll keep Fall Out Kid safe away in the mindscape and continue being the Prince he deserved. He’ll allow Virgil to be the hero and he’ll play all the other roles. Sidekick, damsel-in-distress, villain--if he must. It’s silly, but he’s almost buzzing with excitement at all the worlds they could explore from within the common area. Cowboys, Spaceship, Space Cowboys. The possibilities are endless!

A small hand tugs at his sleeve, tugging him away from his thoughts altogether. He looks down at the inquisitive eyes slightly shrouded by a mop of dirty blond hair.

“Yes, little prince?” He says, trying to blink away the prickling sensation in his eyes. 

He refuses to cry again in front of the Little Shop of Terror. He knows he will have to confront his bubbling guilt and sorrow at some point, but for now he must push it aside. He is used to this. Being a hero means sometimes remaining strong and not showing vulnerability to loved ones.

“M’hungry.” Virgil murmurs into his chest, little arms wrapped around Roman’s neck. It’s almost endearing with how much he resembles a baby possum clinging to their mother. Roman isn’t used to a Virgil so physically affectionate. 

Virgil is like a feral cat. You couldn’t hug or pat him on the shoulder without warning. You had to ask and very rarely did he accept, even if it came from Patton. No, the best way is to let him initiate it. Let him lean his head against your shoulder, or his leg overlapping your own during a movie night. 

You also don’t acknowledge it and by not acknowledging it, Virgil then inches his way more until it grows into a proper hug. Then he would withdraw and promptly act like nothing  happened. Like you were to forget the interaction ever occured in the first place.

Logan has a theory that it’s because Virgil is the Fight-or-Flight instincts and physical affection lowers his guard in a way he isn’t completely comfortable with. Roman now has a theory that it’s a lot more heartbreaking than that. 

“You’re hungry?” Roman asks, attempting to steer his mind out of Despairing Drive and into Present Place. 

 A small growling noise occurs and Jack Smallington ducks his head down, embarrassed.

Roman isn’t entirely surprised considering that it’s been about eight hours since they discovered approximately five-year-old Virgil in the place of grown-up Virgil. Who knows how long he’d been like that, alone in his room, before that. Virgil also rarely eats so the poor kid probably woke up hungry. 

Roman feels so stupid. If it’d been Patton or Logan watching him, the first thing they would’ve made sure is if he was hungry. Because kid or not, it isn’t in Virgil’s nature to be self-advocating. That type of stuff freaks him out. Yet another reason Roman is completely unqualified to watch over Virgil. 

“Okay,” Roman breaths in, smiling, “thanks for letting me know, big guy. To the kitchen at once!”

With that, he hoists Virgil up, settling him on top of his shoulders. There’s a squawk of surprise and Roman’s almost worried until it turns into a gleeful giggle. When Roman lets out a neigh, pretending he’s a horse, Virgil’s giggles grow louder.

“You’re not a horse,” Virgil says.

“Neigh I am!” Roman says, “I am your trusty steed and we’re embarking on a perilous-but-completely-safe journey to the kitchen!”

He treks towards the kitchen, clicking his tongue in an imitation of a horse clip-clopping along. 

“Faster,” Virgil urges, resting his hands on top of Roman’s head.

“Faster?” Roman asks, almost stopping in surprise. 

“Yeah!” Virgil insists, “We gotta get there as fast as possible before any monsters come and eat us!”

“Never fear,” Roman says, “For I shall get us there before any monster even thinks of gobbling us up!”

With that Roman quickens his pace, ensuring he had a firm hold onto Virgil to keep him falling off. 

 “Faster, faster, faster!” Virgil chants in an anxious yet excited tone, “I think I see one!”

“Oh?” Roman turns his head back, “Oh, I see him too! Neigh, we better hurry!”

There isn’t an actual monster there. No sharp fangs or numerous eyes glaring menacingly in their direction. He can’t tell if Virgil is making up a game or if he actually believes there is one there. Either way, Roman is Creativity. If there’s one thing he knows best, it’s how to combat imaginary foes. Such as reaching the threshold of the kitchen.

With one great bound, he makes it onto the black-and-white checkered tiles.

“Aha! Now no monsters can attack us while we feast in the dwelling of this noble kitchen!” Roman grins, setting Virgil atop the kitchen counter before jumping up to sit beside him.

Virgil beams up at him, face wide with utter delight and awe. Roman is left dumbfounded at this. Even as a kid, Virgil had been very closed-off with his emotions. So shy and distrustful of everyone and everything. But here he looks at Roman like he’s some great hero or something.

 ‘How,’ Roman wonders, ‘how can you look at me like this when I’m the obstinate villain of this story?’

“Princey,” Virgil swings his legs, “won’t Dad be upset if he finds us sitting on the counter?”

Roman blinks. At first he thinks Virgil is referring to Thomas’s father until he remembers Patton also goes by Dad. For the longest time, Pat had even been insistent that was his name. In the way that young children believe their parents’ real names really are Mom and Dad. 

“Well,” Roman says, offering a pinky, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay.” Virgil hesitates before interlocking his tiny pinky with Roman’s.

“Excellent! Now what would you like to eat?”

“Ummmm, I--I don’t know.” Virgil bites his lips, eyes flickering around the kitchen. Roman’s heart squeezes at this. He should’ve known such an open-ended question would set his anxiety off. They’ve learned recently that it was better giving Virgil the option of clearly-defined choices rather than vague ones.

“Would you like grilled cheese or spaghetti?” He asks kindly instead. 

“Grilled cheese? With applesauce?” Virgil doesn’t meet his gaze, as if afraid Roman will condemn his choices.

Roman smiles, “Your wish is my command.” 

He could’ve just snapped the food into existence right then and there. A few years back, it would’ve been enough to suffice. But as much as the Sides influence Thomas, the same holds true the other way around. Thomas once saw a fanart of Patton cooking breakfast for the sides and the idea stuck.

 Now Roman could still summon fully prepared meals but they weren’t super filling. Roman didn’t mind too much; contrary to popular belief (Logan) cooking could be a very creative endeavor. As Thomas’s creativity he could make up steps to dishes and still have them turn out perfect in the end. He may or may not enjoy it simply because it frustrated Logan to no end. 

He hops off the kitchen counter, snapping a finger. Instantly cabinet doors magically open as the ingredients and the materials he needed floated out onto the countertop beside the stove. Okay, so he cheated a bit, but just because the others lacked a little imagination didn’t mean he couldn’t bend reality in a place where reality is inconsequential. 

Roman turns to Virgil, unable to hide his smile at Virgil’s gobsmacked expression.

“Here, you can help put butter on the bread,” He tells Virgil, handing him a butter knife.

Grilled cheese sandwiches are a quick and easy meal. Before too long, Roman hands the kid a plate with a plain grilled cheese cut in halves and a cup of prepackaged apple sauce. 

“Thank you,” Virgil squeaks out before digging in.

“Of course.” Roman says, resisting the urge to ruffle the Little Terror’s hair. Instead he takes a bite of his own grilled cheese. Admittedly, he went a bit overboard with his own grilled cheese sandwich; three different types of cheese with lettuce, tomato and pickles. He isn’t quite sure if he’s a fan of the pickles but ah well. So it goes when in the pursuit of creativity.

They eat on top of the kitchen counters with relative silence. Roman hums a bit between bites of grilled cheese. Halfway through, he notices Virgil sending him glances when he thinks Roman isn’t looking. The kid squirms a bit in place, his face twisting in apprehension. 

“Is there something troubling you, Little Prince?” Roman asks at last.

“Princey, where are the others? A--are they okay?!” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Roman’s heart aches knowing how much Virgil worries and cares for everyone, even at such a young age. He’s so quick to reassure him that he doesn’t even pause to think about the phrasing of his words.

“They’re perfectly fine, rest assured. Logan is shut away in his room reading like the insufferable nerd he is and Patton is simply checking up on our dear Thomas--”

“Thomas?” Virgil breathes in, eyes bright with alarm. His shoulders raise to his ears like hackles raising on a frightened cat.

It is at this moment Roman knew that he messed up.

“Virgil, wait--” Roman pleads, attempting to place a placating hand on his shoulder. 

Roman is too late. His hand meets air as Virgil disappears in front of him with a loud crackle. All that’s left is a plate of half-eaten grilled cheese clattering to the countertops and a terror that shakes the entirety of the mindscape. 

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #brotherly prinixety #kat writes #*slaps roman* this bad boy can fit so much angst and regret #also this more setting up the next fic in the series than anything else #hope you still enjoy it tho

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #173: Sherlock Holmes

Yes we’re going out of order, but I have a very good reason for this! ...Well, not really. We were already in the geniuses section, and any excuse to not think about summer while it’s still 40 degrees out is one I’m going to take.

Anyway, today we’re making the man famous for discombobulation, Sherlock Holmes! Track down mysteries, show up everyone else in the party, and kick ass with Baritsu. Easy stuff.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Chaldea’s other resident genius.

Race and Background

There are some theories about Sherlock’s race, but for simplicity’s sake we’ll call you a Variant Human, giving you +1 Dexterity and Wisdom. You also get Sleight of Hand proficiency for some close-up detective work, and the Keen Mind feat, giving you +1 Wisdom, the ability to always point north, perfect time telling, and the ability to recall anything from the last month in-game, a.k.a. the DM’s nightmare.

You know a lot yourself, but you also know how to build and maintain an archive, so the closest background to match would be the Cloistered Scholar background, giving you proficiency in Nature and Religion. Arcana and history would suit you better, but I’ve got something in mind for that, and good things come to those who wait.

Ability Scores

As you’d probably expect, your Wisdom and Intelligence are pretty freaking high. You are Sherlock Holmes after all. You’re pretty strong, but the reason you’re so scary in a fight is because of your technique, so we’re going with Dexterity here instead. You snort cocaine like it’s going out of style, so your Constitution has to be able to keep up. This does mean your Strength is a bit low, but you’re practically an anime protagonist, there are some things we just can’t get in a balanced build. Finally, dump Charisma. Half the reason you drag Guda along on your cases is to talk people out of thinking you’re the murderer, honestly it’s kind of embarrassing.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: You’re a skilled guy, and rogues get skills for days. You get proficiencies in Dexterity and Intelligence saves, as well as four skills- Deception for disguises, and Insight, Investigation, and Perception for cases and clue-catching. You also get Expertise in two skills, doubling their proficiency bonus. Right off the bat I’d suggest Insight and Investigation so you can hopefully get to the bottom of things quickly. Foiling a plan at the last second is thrilling and all, but utterly shutting down a villain is so satisfying.

To help with that, you can use a Sneak Attack once per turn if you’re using a ranged or finesse weapon and either have advantage against a target or a friend within 5′ of them. You also learn Thieves’ Cant, it’s a language that will be especially helpful when you have to navigate the criminal underbelly of a city.

2. Monk 1:None of that was Baritsu though, so we’re bouncing over to monk for some Martial Arts. You can use Dexterity instead of Strength on monk weapons (this does not make them finesse), and spending an action to attack with one also lets you make an unarmed attack as a bonus action. Your unarmed and monk weapon attacks also do at least a 1d4 of damage.

You also get Unarmored Defense, making your AC 10 plus your dexterity modifier plus your wisdom modifier. I don’t care how hot it looks, that corset isn’t armor.

3. Cleric 1: Last multiclass, I swear. Since you can literally make clues appear like magic, we kinda need a bit of magic. Clerics get Spells that they cast and prepare using their Wisdom, which you might have noticed is becoming a pretty important ability for you.

If you want clues, you’ll need knowledge, at least enough to know that the Knowledge domain can help with that. At first level you gain the Blessings of Knowledge, making you proficient in History and Arcana and doubling those proficiencies as well (hey, see what I said about waiting?).

You get three cantrips for joining the clergy, Light gives you some of those cool magnifying spotlights you carry around, Thaumaturgy for some parlor tricks, and Guidance for when you really have to focus.

For first level spells, Command gives you a basic command spell, and Identify teaches you all about the magic affecting an item or creature. Normally that would be more of a research montage, but some times you’re in a hurry. 

As far as actually prepared spells go, anything with “Detect” in the name is a good pick.

4. Rogue 2: Now that we’ve got our spread, let’s build some of these classes up. Second level rogues can make Cunning Actions, Dashing, Disengaging, or Hiding as a bonus action. If you already spent your action rifling through someone’s files and they’re about to burst into the room, you’ll thank me.

5. Rogue 3: There’s really only two possible picks for your subclass, and we’re saving the Mastermind for Moriarty. As an Inquisitive, you have an Ear for Deceit, giving your Insight rolls a minimum of 8 on the die. On top of that, your Eye for Detail lets you make Perception and Investigation checks as a bonus action, further speeding up the process. On top of that, your Insightful Fighting uses your bonus action to make an Insight check versus a creature’s Deception check. On a success, you don’t need advantage to make sneak attacks against that creature for up to a minute. Finally, your Steady Aim uses your bonus action to get advantage on an attack if you don’t move that turn. I’d just use your insightful fighting, but your rival might push you to your limit.

This is a lot of stuff to do on your bonus action, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

6. Monk 2: Back at the school of Baritsu, you gain Ki Points that you can spend to make two unarmed attacks, dodge, disengage, or dash as a bonus action. Doing either of the latter two also doubles your jump distance for the turn. You also gain Unarmored Movement, increasing your movement speed by 10 feet while not wearing armor.

7. Monk 3: We need the most technique in the fewest levels, so that means we’re turning to the Way of the Open Hand once more. Your Open Hand Technique gives extra benefits to your flurry of blows. On each hit, the creature either can’t take reactions for a round, must succeed on a dexterity save or be knocked prone, or must make a strength save or be pushed 15′ away.

You can also Deflect Missiles as your reaction, catching an incoming attack and reducing its damage, possibly sending it back at the enemy if you bring it down to 0.

8. Monk 4: Our first Ability Score Improvement will instead be used to make you Observant, bumping up your Wisdom by 1, giving you +5 to passive perception and investigation, and allowing you to read lips. You can also Slow Fall as a reaction to take less fall damage. Hey, any help to survive the Reichenbach is well appreciated.

9. Rogue 4: Back in rogue now, your second ASI is going towards your Dexterity for stronger and more effective attacks, as well as a higher AC. 17′s pretty good for a corset.

10. Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues get an Uncanny Dodge, allowing you to react to an incoming attack and halve the damage. 

11. Cleric 2: You didn’t think we forgot about this one, did you? Knowledge clerics get two Channel Divinity options each short rest. Turn Undead is your bog standard option, or you can gain the Knowledge of the Ages, spending an action to gain proficiency in one skill or tool for 10 minutes. Protagonist powers, activate!

12. Cleric 3: Third level cleric, second level spells. Suggestion is a more open ended command spell, and Augury is more “telling the future” than deduction. That being said, you do get Calm Emotions to keep your cool, as well as Find Traps, Locate Object, and Zone of Truth. 

13. Rogue 6: You know I’m a sucker for quadrupling things, so for this round of Expertise double up on History and Perception. You’re good at everything, but especially current events.

14. Rogue 7: At this level you get the powerful Evasion feature, turning your failed dexterity saves to avoid damage into successes and successes into no damage at all.

15. Rogue 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Intelligence. It’s a shame we had to wait this long for it, but better late than never.

16. Rogue 9: Your Steady Eye gives you advantage on perception and investigation checks as long as you’re moving at half speed. Unless your DM’s really keen on mapping out rp situations, this is pretty much permanent advantage.

17. Rogue 10: Another ASI, another bump to Intelligence. Does it really do anything? Probably not, but you can feel smug about it regardless.

18. Rogue 11: Your Reliable Talent means you skill rolls are always 10 or greater on checks you’re proficient with. And thanks to your knowledge of the ages, you can be proficient in just about anything.

19. Rogue 12: Use your last ASI to max out your Wisdom for more AC, stronger spells, and more skilled Baritsu.

20. Rogue 13: Your capstone ability is your Unerring Eye, an action to sense illusions, shapechangers, and the like around you. You can sense something’s off, but will have to investigate yourself. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your wisdom modifier.

Pros

Your minimum rolls in Insight and Investigation are 27 and 26 respectively, making you an ace detective. Your ability to root out lies, plus your photographic memory, will make any mystery you play through a breeze. (You the player still have to connect the dots, though.) Also, literally being able to see through illusions is a big plus.

Maxed out wisdom also means your open hand techniques are as strong as possible, giving you a good amount of battlefield control to beat down enemies and push them around.

Knowledge of the Ages plus Reliable Talent equals you being really good at everything when you need to be, and you’re much faster a switching things up than Hundred Personas. 

Cons

Since we only splashed into monk, your baritsu isn’t that great an option for damage. It also comes with the caveat that you can’t use your sneak attack unarmed, so you will have to carry the murder weapon around with you.

Despite being a melee fighter, your hp is pretty low, making straight confrontations a bad idea.

We really wanted Unerring Eye, but as a consequence we could only get a couple levels of the other classes. This means your ki points and spell slots are rather limited. But I mean, you’re Sherlock freaking Holmes, you’ll know when you need to use them and when you don’t.

#Fate Grand Order #fgo #D&D 5e #Sherlock Holmes #Fate and Phantasms #Rogue #Monk #Cleric

[mydrug-is-dragonage]

Veda Adaar, A Letter from Home

The balcony off my room had great light in the morning. The sun shining through the clouds, the crisp mountain air, spring properly arrived and ready to melt into summer. My belly swelled, slowly but surely. No kicks or stirring, a growing bump where they said a child would be. I hid myself in long, flowing robes and oversized tunics. I spent most my days here, staring out the window, feeling the sun on my skin. I wondered if this was the feeling my parents missed, living in this cold land so far from their home. I sighed and looked out at the mountains, so calm with the wars ceased. The sky still bore the thin green scar.

The week after the healer confirmed the child, Lace came into my room with tea. “Hey, V.” I nodded and waved her in. She handed me the cup and we settled onto the sofa. The fire crackled, I pulled my robe closer around me and placed both hands on the warm cup. “I haven’t written the Divine yet,” she said.

“You haven’t written or you haven’t sent it?” I asked.

“Sent. I’ve written a draft,” she said.

“Do we have to send it now?”

“No,” she paused. Her eyes stared at the burning logs. “We will have to tell her soon, though.”

“I suppose we can get it over with. Not like it’ll get any easier,” I sighed. I took a sip of my tea. My hands stayed on the cup, the warmth passing through my palms.

“She’ll make it easier to keep this quiet, if that’s still what you want to do,” she said.

I swallowed and stared out, the sun setting, the chill of the mountains taking over. “I want to keep it quiet. I’ll tell a few friends, in time, but for now it needs to stay with only those we trust the most.”

She nodded. “Have you written your mother yet? We got another two letters from her this week.” I shook my head. “The Divine considers her trustworthy. She hasn’t betrayed any Inquisition secrets thus far.”

“I know,” I said, “I just don’t know how to tell her.” Lace tapped her feet. “Go on, you’ve got a mind full of something.”

“Veda, she loves you. She loved Bull. She’ll be thrilled.” I took another sip of my tea.

“She does love me. She did love Bull. She also loves my father and will certainly tell him,” I said. Lace started to speak, but I interrupted. “Pa never trusted him. He had his reasons, of course.”

“I think he’ll support you more than he hates Bull,” she said.

“You’ve met my father. Do you really believe that?”

“He’s a hardass, but he’s always been bolder in affection than hatred.” I nodded, took another sip of my tea.

“Lace, can you bring me a fresh candle and ink?” She nodded and went to fetch them. I settled into my desk.

Tama,

I’m sorry I haven’t written. Lace tells me she’d get you informed about the immediate developments. I’ll also admit I haven’t read your letters. I’m going to, I keep them in a safe place. I simply haven’t found the time or the gumption. For being so brave, I’m so afraid. I don’t know why. I’ve face dragons and magisters and time travel. I suppose the risk there is death. Dying never seemed as scary.

I remember the stories you told me of when you were a girl. A young apprentice baker, elbows deep in flour. You wanted to be a Tamassaran, raising the children, guiding their growth, comforting their hurts. I suppose it’s the closest thing to motherhood in Par Vollen. They didn’t let you into the priesthood, though. They didn’t let you raise the babies and cuddle them, tend to their wounds. They sent you to a small bakery near the sea. I remember the gull songs you’d sing to me as we wandered along the coastline of the Waking Sea.

Pa never told me the same stories you did. I pieced them together from stories you’d told me. Pa, part of the antaam, stopping by your bakery for bread in the morning. Pa, the good soldier, making jokes as you packed his rations You, the naughty the baker, sneaking him sweetened bread, baked with too much sugar. His hands lingering on yours too long in front of the baker. You two sitting on beach, the sea lapping the shore, your hands finding their way to each other’s again. When I got older and understood the Qun, I always wondered how you weren’t quaking with fear. To love, while not forbidden, was certainly not allowed like this.

When you fled, were you afraid? Crossing through Seheron and Tevinter, Pa joining mercenary companies to gain passage, did you regret it? Did you miss the calm of the bakery, the friends you left behind? Was he worth it? Was I worth it? Were you afraid?

I remember when you sent me off with my first company, an apprentice myself, unsure of the power in my fingertips. I remember Pa standing, arm around you. You held back your tears, but I saw your eyes well up, so afraid for your only child, your only daughter. You wanted more for me than mercenary companies, killing for my dinner. You sang from the Chant of Light, you warned me of magic, yet it came to me anyway, taking me away from you. The first letter I got from you started and ended with, “May the Maker guide you.”

He guided me through mountains and valleys, along the seas. I’d seen the Free Marches, Nevarra, Orlais, the South Western corner of the Anderfels, all while learning to protect myself from demons, manipulate the fade to bend to my very will. The best, of course, was when I’d come home, a year older, a head taller, hardly the child you’d sent away, still so far from real womanhood. You fussed over me so, made goat pies, asked about the places I’d been and the joy I’d found. When you went to bed, Pa and I sat outside, looking towards the sky, the moon so full and hungry. He took a sip of the wine you’d opened, offered me my first glass. He put his arm around me and pointed out constellations. He said something softly, the sounds still ringing in my ears, “We wanted better for you. We wanted safer for you.”

The first time you visited Skyhold, we’d stopped the demon army, but we hadn’t yet gone to Halamshiral to save the empress. You wore a simple cotton dress, you hair braided down your back. Pa put on his nice shirt, his horn caps. You looked so nervous around the nobility. They didn’t know what to make of you. The deafening whispers, everyone so curious about the new Qunari amongst the Inquisition. I heard you sing from some Canticle as you walked towards the throne, up towards my room.

I was scared then, too, my mission unfinished, the Magister still on the loose. When we got to my room you gave me the biggest hug. “My little girl has gone on to be something so much bigger!” You beamed, your own daughter the Herald of Andraste. Pa hugged me too. While I was pressed against him he whispered, “I’m happy you’re safe, for now.” Pa pulled away and glanced at my neck.

The dragon’s tooth was heavy. It rested against my skin, cool and smooth. He didn’t say anything, eyes stuck on the tooth. Your eyes were stuck on me, until Pa’s hand reached your back. Your gaze went where his rested. I can hear your voice now, the surpise and curiosity, “Veda, is that….” your voice trailed off, so Pa, forever your rock, finished for you, “A necklace of the Kadan.” He didn’t share your curiosity.

I said yes. No use in lying to you. I felt my heartbeat in my ears. Your eyes widened when you asked me, “Do you have a Kadan?” I nodded, so unsure and afraid. Not of my love. I knew I loved Bull. I hoped he loved me, but the two of you, seeing me in love with a man closer to your age than mine, a Ben Hassrath agent no less. You two joined me in Herald’s Rest, we found a small table in the corner upstairs. Pa drank a full ale before Bull came to join us. It was awkward, so painfully awkward. When Pa excused himself, I wanted to be sick when Bull said he’d take a walk with him. The men gone, us alone at the table. “He’s,” you thought so carefully about your words, “a lot of man.” I laughed and agreed. You asked if he made me happy.

He did. He made me so happy. He made me happy for years. He made me happy dancing at Halamshiral, he made me happy fighting dragons, he made happy in taverns and campsites, in castles and caves. He held my hand in carriages, he held me in cold storms. He took blows meant for me, he killed foes sent to strike me down. I saw the whole future, I saw the danger you and Pa had lived through. I knew we’d have troubles. I knew he’d be called away from me, but he was mine and he made me so happy, Tama. I couldn’t have loved him more.

I assume you know now what he did. Pa was right. Pa, despite walking with Bull, pulled me into a great big hug before he left. Again, he whispered in my ear, “He’ll never love you more than the Qun.” I shrugged him off. What did Pa know? He didn’t know Bull. He didn’t know me or our circumstances. I thought myself so grown then, barely nineteen, but the most powerful woman in the world. I loved Bull. Bull loved me. I was so sure Bull loved me.

I don’t know if love persists once we return to the Maker’s side. I don’t know if he even gets to return to the Maker. I don’t know what the Qun says happens we die. He obeyed the Qun. He did what the Qun demanded. If there is satisfaction to be had there, he’s earned it. At the cost of himself, at the cost of our love, at the cost of my dignity.

It’s been scarcely two months, his body left to rot near that dragon’s prison. I saw my love struck down before me. Cassandra delivered the killing blow, saving me the anguish of having to kill him myself. He’s dead, Tama. He’s gone. He’s gone forever and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to accept that he loved me and still did this. I don’t know how to accept that he never loved me and felt no guilt. I don’t understand. I don’t understand.

It’s been two months, I’m in Skyhold with Lace and the few others who stayed behind to serve what was the Inquisition. I’m no longer the Inquisitor, I’m no longer a fearsome fighter. I’m no longer someone’s Kadan. I’m just Veda. I’m just Veda and that’s all I’ll ever be. I’ll try to help stop Solas, but I won’t lead the charge. I can’t, not anymore. I’m going to be a glorified advisor, one-armed and tired. All that is so hard to write. Forgive the smudges. I’ve finally cried without violence and I don’t know how to accept any of this, but I do have something I have to tell you.

I’m no longer the Inquisitor, a Valo-Kas mercenary, a Knight Enchanter. But I’m still your daughter, and I’m going to be a mother.

Love,

Veda

Lace sent the raven to my mother, I sat down and finally read her letters, her usual, motherly concern filling each page. Father was doing well, a goat had twin kids. When she’d found out about Bull, the letter was longer. Words about love and loss, the way pain settles in our chest, proving our love mattered at all. Beautiful words, frustrating as they were comforting. I heard her and Thom ringing in my ears. I lounged on the sofa, my hands resting at my side, sometimes settling on the top of it. My stomach was warm and tight. Sometimes my fingers would wander towards my stomach, but I’d pull them away. The child would have to be acknowledged eventually. I would have to care for the child, provide for its needs. But I didn’t have to love it, caress its home. Not yet, not now.

Two weeks passed, visitors came and went, spring got brighter, the documents and plans seemed more convoluted. A sunny afternoon, Lace came to my room with two letters. “I thought you’d want this as soon as possible,” she said. I opened the first, smelled the pages. The light scent of lavender and smoke, the oils mother loved and the constant cooking.

Sweetling,

Asit tal-eb. It is to be. Maraas Kata. Nothing is ended.

Love,

Tama

I held the letter to my chest, weeping. So few words, yet they struck right into my heart. Asit tal-eb, what mother would say whenever we suffered and lost. One summer, before I’d come into my magic, Pa came home furious. He cursed and threw down his sword. They spoke in quick Qunlat, too fast for me to understand. Pa sat down and put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hand. Tama put her arms around his head, rested her head on his. She whispered, “Asit tal-eb,” over and over, stroking his hair. I put my doll aside, walked up beside them. Pa took an arm off Tama’s waist and pulled me into their embrace. She leaned up, dried her eyes, and squatted down to my height. “We’ve got to go, sweetling,” she said. Her voice calm despite it all.

“But I like it here! They’re not even mean at the Chantry!” I said, full of childlike fury.

“They won’t sell us the land,” Pa said. “So we can’t grow food for ourselves. We can’t raise animals of our own.” He sniffed and stared at the wall. His gaze moved down to me, little girl with little horns still budding. “We will try again. Find a new place we can stay. Asit tal-eb.”

I caught my breath and opened the next letter. Instead of my mother’s gentle writing, a harsher, sturdier hand had written it.

Imekari,

Your mother says you are having a child. This means we will be grandparents. I have never known a grandparent. Like parenthood, it is a concept we’ve stolen from the Bas. Regardless, I will inquire with the man who sells wheat what this entails. I presume we will love this child, just as we love you. The stories I’ve heard, being a grandparent is easier. That brings some joy.

I read the letter you sent your mother. I read it a few times. I lost count after seven. You’re not so wrong with your telling of me. I was in the antaam. I tried to make your mother laugh often. We did hold hands when we shouldn’t have. Due to your existence, you know we fled together, children ourselves. We chose love over duty. We abandoned the Qun.

I never told you of the walk Hissrad and I took the day we met. You were right. It was awkward. I hoped for a moment to compose myself. Perhaps find a man to hit me with a stick. Of course, Hissrad chose to join me. We walked along the battlements for some time. He was quiet, as I was quiet. We reached a corner and overlooked the endless mountains. I asked him about the necklace. Your mother and I had never told you of this. Kadans and necklaces of Kadans were a memory we left behind. It had to be his idea. He kept a blank face. I presume he was a very good Hissrad. After some contemplation, he said (translated for your sake), “I mentioned it off hand. We killed a dragon less than a week later. I thought we were just having fun, but she surprised me. She constantly surprises me.” I asked if he loved you. He said yes. I asked if he loved you as the Qunari he was or the Tal-Vashoth he pretended to be. He said (again, translated for your sake. You need to learn more Qunlat. The child should know Qunlat), “Both. I love her as the friend and companion I’d get to have in Par Vollen. I love her as a Tal-Vashoth would love whomever they chose.” When I asked about the Qun and when he’d be pulled back to Par Vollen, he gave meaningless answers. He’d spent too much time around bas, he’d forgotten how to talk to men like men.

Imekari, I was wrong. He’s dead. He died obeying orders. But, presuming this new imekari—Imekari II? Small imekari? Ari-imekari? I’ll discuss with Tama—was not of your planning, he broke the Qun. He knew how to control his seed. We all grow up knowing, waiting to be called for breeding. He made a choice. He violated the Qun.

He died Tal-Vashoth. I wish he had lived to fulfill that betrayal of the Qun. The child will come. Tama and I will come too, to discuss and guide. For now, I’ve enclosed something that gave me great comfort during our great suffering.

You’re still a Kadan. You’ve always been our Kadan.

Your Father,

Beres

Behind his letter there was another piece of paper. I opened it slowly, the creases deep and discolored. Inside was a drawing, crude, of a little house. Two Qunari stood, both smiling. The drawing was labeled, “This will be our house. This is where the goats will sleep. This is where the goats will chase the chickens. This is where Veda will play. This is where Tama will sing to Veda. This is where Pa will squeeze Veda on days the Maker didn’t bring kindness to school.” A smaller Qunari reached both hands up, a parent grabbing each hand. At the bottom, it said, “Home.”

I read and re-read the letter. When my hand drifted to my belly, I let it rest.

#veda adaar #dragon age adaar #dragon age #dai #dragon age inquisition #adaar x bull #da: inquisition #inquisitor x bull #inquisitor adaar #qunari #female #tal vashoth #beres adaar is now my favorite character it was an accident but i stand by it #lace harding #scout harding #f!inquisitor #adaar #qunlat #iron bull #kadan #also i hope y'all get the tama thing #it made me tear up as i was writing it #like the idea that she couldn't be a tamassaran but when she had her own child she was called tama???

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: Saturday Morning Cartoon Complaints

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

————————————-

There once was a lonely apparition that haunted an apartment in an old building. No one knew where it came from, how it came to be, or why it was there. In fact, nobody knew the spooky specter actually existed since nobody could see it. Eventually, the apparition met someone who could see them, and they were no longer lonely. But before that, there were a few instances where the incorporeal creature made contact with human beings.

This is one of those stories.

It was September 20th, 1997, and Terrence “Terry” Vanderbrook was working as an operator for a local CBS Network Affiliate. He spent his days making sure that people calling into the station were directed to where they needed to go, and also screening out any unwanted calls. Regardless if they were folks calling in to speak to the news team about breaking news, people wanting to partner with the station for a special event, or for any other reason, Terry took care of them all.

One call, in specific, would go down as one Terry would remember for the rest of his years. (Mostly because he wasn’t sure if it actually happened or not).

“Thank you for calling your local CBS station, W.O.-“ Terry began to say before being cut off.

“Where...?” came a voice that sounded like breath on the wind.

“I’m sorry?” Terry asked.

“Where... are they...?” the raspy voice asked.

In the couple of years Terry had been a phone operator, he received more than his fair share of crank calls. Some were very obvious from the get go, while others were subtle and not quite as apparent. On occasion, a call might start off sounding like a prank, but actually turn out to be a legitimate call. Terry learned that the hard way after being berated by a 76- year old woman who was calling to complain about a breaking news report interrupting Diagnosis: Murder. On that day, Terry learned never to underestimate the appeal of Dick Van Dyke to seniors.

Still, uncertain if this was a prank or not, Terry did exactly what he was trained to do: proceed in a professional and courteous manner while trying to obtain more information to determine the needs of the caller. (At least until he was sure whether this call was genuine or not.)

“What can I help you find today?” Terry responded with a smile in his voice (as outlined in the Employee Handbook for Telephone Operators, page 12).

The raspy voice spoke a little louder to get its point across, “Car... TOONS!!!”

“Cartoons?”

“Where. Are. The. Car. Tooooons!?” the voice demanded.

Terry looked over at the small calendar on his desk. It was Saturday. “Oh! You mean the Saturday Morning Cartoons?”

“Yesssssss...” the voice said with a hiss.

“Give me one second,” Terry said as he began to type away at the keyboard to his Windows 95 work computer. Connecting to the network’s server, Terry began searching for and pulling up the schedule for the day’s channel listings. A memo had circulated around the office not too long ago about changes to the channel lineup this fall, but Terry hadn’t paid too much attention to it. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of the search function for his e-mail just yet.

“I’m... waaaaaaaaaiiiii... tiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg,” the voice said as nasally and obnoxious as possible.

“Hang on, kid, I almost got it,” Terry shot back. At this point, he figured the caller was some kid, probably sick in bed (which would explain the raspy voice), hoping to watch their Saturday Morning Cartoons and having trouble with it. (Terry was way off the mark, but he didn’t know that).

While the inter-network speeds within the CBS station’s computer network were much faster than the new 56 Kbps speeds Terry got on his dial-up modem back home, it still took a while to get to the shared network folder that contained the spreadsheet containing the day’s programming lineup. With a double-click, Terry opened up Excel 95 and saw...

“Oh...”

Terry bit his lip and breathed in through his teeth. He always hated calls like this; calls where he had to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news. The person on the other end of the line NEVER took it well. It would lead to lots of yelling, screaming, and demands to speak to his manager. And that was when Terry was speaking to full grown adults, so he was rightfully concerned about the kind of tantrum a sick child could produce.

“I’m sorry,” Terry said with regret, “but it looks like the CBS Kidz programming block has been replaced with CBS News Saturday Morning and a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show.”

————————————-

Due to the nature of the apparition’s existence, it was debatable whether or not it was actually “alive”. Considering the facts, it had been “born” a few years ago and hadn’t “lived” for very long by the time it made this phone call. Furthermore, during the time in between, it experienced emotions such as happiness, sadness, inquisitiveness, and many more.

But this was the first time the apparition became truly angry!

The apparition was frowning. It’s worth mentioning this, because before now, the apparition had never, ever frowned. Its face was no longer smiling, or expressionless like a confused child, like it had been for every day since the apparition began its existence. It was consciously moving the non-existent muscles on its face to move downward to express just how angry it was. Its sharp teeth were on full display like a snarling beast. To say it was not a pretty sight would have been an understatement.

The ethereal hand that had been twirling the coils of the telephone cord was now clutching the phone book as tightly as it could. Visions of cartoon characters expressing their anger whirled through the apparition’s head as it began to conjugate steam out of its non-existent ears. The apparition could not find the words to express the outrage it felt, so it did something else to vent its frustration.

It made a wooden chair suddenly fly through the air at one-hundred and twenty miles per hour into a wall.

*CRASH*

————————————-

The sound of wood smashing and splintering could be heard over the phone, and nearly made Terry jump out of his chair.

“WHOA! Kid, are you okay!?” Terry asked with genuine concern.

“BAAAAACK!!!” the apparition practically screamed. Its voice had distorted and sounded sinister; carrying a demonic reverb.

“...BRING! THEM! BAAAAAACK!!!”

“Poor kid,” Terry thought to himself, “they are definitely not taking this well.”

If it had been anyone else other than Terry taking that call, the horrific voice over the phone likely would have scared them out of their pants by now. But he was a veteran at handling the phone and this was not the first time someone used a voice distorter on a call. It was the first time a kid had used one (as far as he knew), but Terry had seen the toy commercials for “YakBak” on TV and knew that any kid with one could do funny things to their voice.

“Listen,” Terry said calmly, “I understand you’re disappointed, but that’s no reason to break things and throw a fit. You might hurt yourself or make yourself even sicker.”

————————————-

The frown had vanished from the apparition’s face. In its place was a look of sheer confusion. This was definitely not the reaction the apparition was expecting when they made this phone call.

The last time the apparition used its scary voice was back when the previous apartment tenants were talking about getting rid of their TV. To keep that from happening, the apparition practiced hard on finding the best voice it could mimic that would “persuade” the residents living there at the time to keep it. It even figured out how it could project its voice into any electronic device with a speaker to create an even more haunting effect (and to make sure the people there could actually hear its demands).

It worked, but it worked a little too well.

Shortly after the apparition began to actively haunt its oblivious roommates, the tenants packed up and moved out in a hurry, leaving their furniture and appliances behind. This included the 32” CRT TV that the apparition was fond of, and a landline telephone. The apparition didn’t care much for the phone line since they were happy just having the TV all to themselves twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. (Plus, they didn’t have anyone to call or talk on the phone to, anyway.)

At least they were happy until about a week ago, when the Saturday Morning Cartoons were a complete no show for the first time in years.

But the apparition had seen shows come and go, television programming blocks change for no apparent reason, occasional weather alert bulletins interrupting their cartoons, and some of their favorite cartoons canceled. They learned patience, understanding, and compromise from these experiences. Just because there were no cartoons that week didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be cartoons next week.

Two weeks without cartoons, however, simply would not do.

The apparition scoured the apartment for a phone book, concentrated on solidifying its fingertips to turn pages, located the phone number for the TV station, and dialed. It took a lot of effort for a ghostly being to make a phone call, and it was not about to let its efforts go to waste.

If the scary voice didn’t work, they’d have to take a different approach. It was time for Plan B.

————————————-

“...Sorry,” the apparition apologized, “...please... bring them... back?”

Terry sighed. He had kids of his own, and dealing with them could be a real challenge; especially when he couldn’t give them something they wanted. Once they realized throwing a tantrum fit wouldn’t work, they start trying to “bargain” just like the kid (who wasn’t actually a kid) that was on the phone.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but it’s out of my hands,” Terry said using his “sympathetic Dad” voice, “I know it stinks, and if I could bring them back, I absolutely would.” After some frantic scrolling through his work e-mail inbox, he finally found the e-mail he was looking for. “But, thing is, we got to follow the rules from the FCC, so-“

“Eff... See... See?” the voice interrupted to ask.

“The Federal Communications Commission,” Terry explained, “You might not have learned about them in school yet, but they’re a part of the government. They make the rules we here at the TV stations got to follow, and one of those rules is to show three hours of educational programming, and the cartoons we had, well...” Terry tried to find a way to let the (not) kid down nicely, “...they just weren’t educational enough. That make sense?”

————————————-

It did not make sense. The Apparition had no idea what the heck the person on the other end of the phone line was talking about. All it knew was that they took away their cartoons and they weren’t going to give them back.

Taking a look at its transparent fingers, the apparition decided it was time to take matters into its own hands. They had tried scaring the person on the other end of the phone and they had tried asking nicely, but now it was time for plan C.

The apparition plunged its fingers into the tiny holes of the phone receiver. The phone was eventually engulfed in the apparition’s being and soon after that, the receiver began to slowly suck the apparition into it.

If someone walked into the room at that moment, and if that person could also see the apparition, they would see the lower half of a person’s body up to about their waist with the upper half crammed into a phone. It looked like a cartoon where someone had taken the receiver of a phone and hit someone over the head with it so hard that it jammed them inside.

Meanwhile, inside the phone, the apparition’s upper body stretched as it squeezed its way through the telephone cables. It wasn’t easy, and the apparition had never tried anything like this before, but it was filled with determination. Following the voice of the person on the other end of the phone, the apparition could feel itself getting closer and closer to its destination.

It smiled a sharp, toothy grin and created sharp claws on its hands in preparation for its arrival. Soon it would wreak havoc against those who had wronged it. They would rue the day they had taken away their source of Saturday Morning joy! It could see a light ahead of itself, and once it finally reached it, the apparition took its mangled, clawed hand and...

————————————-

*scritch*

“Ow,” Terry said as he pulled the phone away from his head. Something had just scratched him. Looking at the phone receiver, Terry blinked and then blinked again as he came to comprehend what he was looking at.

It was a very small, tiny hand with what looked like long fingernails poking out from one of the holes on the receiver. It flailed and strained as if it was trying to reach out but couldn’t get itself through. The closest thing Terry could liken it to was if a mouse or hamster had somehow gotten into the phone and was sticking its paw through the holes on the phone.

It was kind of adorable.

After a few seconds, the hand retracted into the phone. A second after that, Terry could have swore that he saw a tiny head poke out of one of the holes on the receiver. It had long hair, large eyes, no nose, and looked rather irritated. It struggled as it tried to pull itself out of the phone, but it just couldn’t budge.

Terry was quite sure he was seeing things. He wasn’t sure if it was because of something he ate, or from not getting enough sleep. The thought never entered his head that he was looking at a supernatural being that had shrunken its upper torso, shoved and stretched itself through the phone line, and was now trying to crawl its way out the other end. That would have been silly.

After a few more seconds of struggling, the apparition seemed to realize that this was not going to work and silently admitted defeat to itself. It looked up at the (relatively) gigantic face of Terry who was casually looking at the apparition without an ounce of fear, shock, or horror showing on his face. Without really thinking, Terry just looked at the tiny head poking out and just shrugged as though saying, “Sorry, can’t help yah there, bud”.

Dejectedly, the apparition pulled its head back inside the phone as Terry absentmindedly waved goodbye to it.

————————————-

Back in the apartment, the apparition pulled itself out from the phone and sighed. It held the phone up to its earless head to hear what the man on the other end had to say.

“So, uh...” the man said before a hesitant pause, “...I know this is going to sound crazy, but...” another pause as the man on the other end tried to put what just happened into words, “...did you just try and travel through the phones so you could claw at me?”

The apparition looked to the left, then looked to the right, and if it was capable of it, it would have broken out in a nervous sweat. Sheepishly, the apparition responded, “...yes,” with the same tone of voice a child would use if they had been caught eating cookies before dinner.

A slight pause before the man followed back with, “...didn’t really work out for you, did it?”

Again, sounding like a child that knew they were totally busted, the apparition responded, “...nooooo...”

There was another pause on the phone before the man on the other end eventually said, “Well... better luck next time.”

This call was starting to get extremely awkward as the apparition had no idea what was going to happen next.

After about a minute of silence (which is considered taboo among telephone operators) the man on the other end finally asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

This was a battle the apparition had thoroughly lost, and it knew it. It was time to throw in the towel. With a depressed sigh, it responded back, “No... thank you”.

————————————-

Despite not being sure what exactly he just saw, Terry leaned forward in his chair and decided the very least he could do was offer some encouraging words. “I know you’re disappointed, and I get that. I really do. But other TV channels have cartoons too. You can always watch them there.”

“...yeah...” the voice responded.

“It’s not like all the cartoons in the world just suddenly vanished, right?”

“...I suppose...”

Terry was ready to wrap this call up and had his closing spiel all set to go. “We appreciate you caring enough to call in today and while I may not have been able to help you, I do hope you feel better soon. Okay?”

There was a moment of silence before the voice responded back, “...okay...”

“Thank you very much for calling CBS, and have a good rest of your day,” Terry said earnestly.

There was a click signaling the phone on the other end had disconnected. Terry hung up the phone on his end, leaned back in his office chair, and looked up to the ceiling.

At that exact same moment, the person they had been talking to just a minute ago thought the exact same thing as he did.

“Well... that was weird.”

#my roommate is an apparition

[dacompanionreactions]

Hi! Good to see another reactions blog. Just to start you off... DAI companions reacting to a somniari Inquisitor whose powers are greatly amplified by the Anchor?

Cassandra is unsure of what to think. Everyone has unique abilities, her own being able to set the lyrium in one’s blood aflame. She finds it unsettling at first. The idea that someone could enter the Fade while she sleeps and warp it worries her. According to Solas, a somniari himself, the Anchor amplifies this ability. Mainly she worries for the Inquisitor since they are much more vulnerable to demonic possession and the very presence of demons is painful. However, she finds there is no need to worry - the first (and last) demon that attempted possession was wiped out of existence. Cassandra has heard of how the somniari can use the Fade to drive their enemies mad, and in extreme cases, kill them. Cassandra considers the Inquisitor a dear friend and knows they will never hurt her on purpose. Truthfully, she pities the Inquisition’s enemies.

If romanced, she will be less wary around her lover and more concerned. When she’s having a particularly stressful day, the Inquisitor can shape her dreams to be pleasant. By her lover’s side, Cassandra never fails to sleep peacefully. For all the bad that comes with being a somniari, it can also be used for good. When the nights are particularly painful, she will embrace him, whispering sweet nothings and praying for some way for his pain to end.

Varric has seen a lot of weird shit in his lifetime. At this point, he’s hardly surprised, if not cautious. He makes a mental note to put this in his new book. It goes with the title. He’s become good friends with the Inquisitor, so he asks them questions. He doesn’t really understand all this Anchor stuff or the Fade, but he makes sure to regularly check in on the Inquisitor. Being a somniari isn’t the easiest of things, and when Varric learns the very presence of demons cause great pain. He finds the whole ‘enter the Fade and drive people mad’ weird to say the least, but he doesn’t let it change his view of the Inquisitor. They are his friend, abilities or no.

Solas is delighted to say the least. Somniari are extremely rare, believed to have been extinct for two ages. He is a somniari himself. Solas asks the Inquisitor question after question if they are comfortable. After studying the Anchor, he offers to teach them techniques on how to refine their abilities and lessen the pain associated with a demon’s presence. Often they will discuss the day’s events in the Fade rather than outside of it. Solas is almost rendered giddy with excitement, a difficult feat for the usually composed elf, when he realises they can offer him stories of their journeys into the Fade.

If romanced, Solas’s reaction does not change much. He is excited, anxious for knowledge and eager to teach his vhenan what he knows. However, this does leaves room for ‘Fade dates’. Two somniari in the Fade? Anything is possible. The pain is more manageable now, especially since Solas has someone who understands, but he would not wish it on his worst enemy, let alone the woman he loves. This revelation will make it so much harder for him to leave.

Dorian is beside himself. “If my family knew I were friends with a somniari, my father would positively shit himself,” he says between sips of wine. He is almost jealous of the Inquisitor. Tevinter culture widely romanticises the Dreamers, giving them their own name of ‘somniari’. However, his jealousy melts to sympathy when he learns of the great pains that come with it. Dorian researches ways on alleviating their pain, even going to Solas and Vivienne for help. The fact that they can enter the Fade and use it to kill doesn’t really bother Dorian, he’s a necromancer for the Maker’s sake.

If romanced, his initial reaction isn’t jealousy, it’s concern for his amatus. Dorian knows the dangers of being a somniari as well as the dangers that come with angering one. Dorian does not fear the Inquisitor’s abilities, rather he fears what it is doing to him. He is especially grateful when his nightmares ebb away into serene dreams, no doubt the work of his amatus.

Sera shudders. She hates the magey shite, the Fade, all of it. She can’t help her fear of the Inquisitor at first, even if they are friends. There is a whisper at the back of her mind, over and over, ‘what if?’ What if they attack her in her dreams, make her go mad? Then she realises who she’s actually talking about. The Inquisitor, helper of the little people and above all, her friend. Then she discovers the pain that comes with being a somni-what’s-it and all doubts wash away. In a way, seeing the Inquisitor like this makes them more human. It makes them little too.

If romanced, Sera will focus less on the scary magic stuff and more on how her Honey Tongue is feeling. She may consult Dorian in pain management because she doesn’t know jack about magic or the Fade, and frankly he’s the only mage apart from her Inky that she can tolerate. She worries for her Inky, and anyone who throws a shitty comment their way gets arrows.

Blackwall doesn’t really know what to make of it at first. He admits that he doesn’t quite like the idea of someone slinking into his dreams and driving him mad, though inwardly he believes it’s no less than what he deserves. He does acknowledge how the abilities can be useful and offers what comfort he can when he learns of the pain associated with it. Blackwall doesn’t necessarily understand all of the Fade stuff, but he knows how to be there for a friend.

If romanced, he will always check on his lover. If the pain is too much he will turn to Solas, Vivienne and Dorian for help. If he could, he’d enter the Fade and slay all the demons there if it meant the Inquisitor could be in peace, but things are rarely that simple. He makes sure his love knows that he has her back in this.

Cole is conflicted. On one hand, he is worried that their abilities could be used to hurt people. On the other hand, Cole worries for their safety, more so when he realises the only person hurt from this is the Inquisitor. He doesn’t understand ‘somniari’, to him it’s just a word. For the Inquisitor it’s another pressure, another expectation. People are either afraid of me or want to use this to their advantage. Don’t they see me as a person anymore? He appears by the Inquisitor’s side as soon as he hears these thoughts. “You are a person. Somniari is just a word. You are more than that.”

Iron Bull figures he’ll need a stick bashing soon. It’s not common knowledge, but his greatest fear is madness. To know that someone whom he respects greatly has the power to achieve this effortlessly? It’s not the best feeling in the world. However, his outlook changes quickly when he finds out about the pain. The Inquisitor didn’t even need to tell him verbally, his Ben-Hassrath training did that for them. Bull doesn’t get the Anchor or Fade stuff, but he tips off the Chargers about providing a fun distraction whenever the pain gets too much for the Inquisitor.

If romanced, he will pull his kadan close to him. He knows about their abilities but never once does he fear for his own sanity. Bull will consult their mage companions for a way to manage the pain. If anyone voices displeasure towards his kadan, they’ll be met with an angry qunari.

Vivienne is curious. For the last two ages, somniari were believed to have gone extinct. “My dear, that is absolutely fascinating! Do tell me more.” She wants to know everything there is to know about about their abilities, and chides them for not saying anything earlier. Her line of questioning ends abruptly when she’s informed of their pain. Vivienne has an affinity for potions, so she throws herself into research and even goes so far as to asking the apostate hobo, ahem, Solas for a second opinion. Within days she has a whole batch of elixirs ready for the Inquisitor.

Cullen doesn’t like it. His fears of magic almost override his friendship with the Inquisitor until he realises how it affects them. He empathises with them - lyrium withdrawal had him in so much pain on some days that he thought he would die. The Inquisitor informs him that it’s the same with them, and he hesitantly hugs them, unsure of whether the mage would appreciate comfort from a former templar. To his unexpected delight the Inquisitor does, and Cullen often finds himself confiding in the Inquisitor, and vice versa.

If romanced, Cullen will worry greatly for his lover, especially when she’s outside of Skyhold. Before each trip, he’ll nag the mage companion accompanying her to make sure they’re looking out for her. Cullen wishes the pain will end, but he takes solace in knowing that his presence helps her, and hers him.

Leliana has a mixed reaction. She admires the stealth that comes with entering someone’s dreams and shaping the Fade around them. She dryly mentions how it would solve many problems with the Inquisition’s enemies. Leliana also acknowledges how this could curry favour with Tevinter, but will only do so if the Inquisitor allows. She pities them, and no one knows how, but the Inquisitor suddenly finds themselves with an abundance of pain relieving elixirs. The Spymaster works in mysterious ways. Any negative comments towards the Inquisitor are met with silent but very deadly threats.

Josephine is unsure of what to think. She doesn’t like violence at all, preferring to take diplomatic approaches. She sympathises with the Inquisitor when finding out about their pain. Josephine writes to her mage contacts for information on how to lessen the pain and receives urgent replies within a week. She also asks the Inquisitor for permission to share this information publicly, for she knows a few nobles houses that would favour this knowledge.

If romanced, she will hold her lover close to her. She wants them to be in peace. As soon as she receives replies from her contacts, she passes the information on to their mage companions. Josie does not fear the abilities of her love for she knows that she will never come to harm with them.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #dao #da2 #dai #inquisitor #dragon age companions #dragon age headcanon #thedas #bioware #companion reacts #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #solas #dorian pavus #sera dragon age #blackwall #cole dragon age #iron bull #vivienne dragon age #cullen rutherford #leliana dragon age #josephine montilyet #inquisitor trevelyan #inquisitor cadash #inquisitor adaar #inquisitor lavellan #herald of andraste

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Three, “Rebecca Ann”

*Not my gifs and ugh it was SO hard to find good ones, sigh* 

Word Count: 11.6k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad /  Song will be at the end, so as not to give anything away ;) 

“She is led by love, the world moves for love . . it kneels before it in awe."

- Edward Walker, The Village 

“So, what happened in the story next?”

“Are you sure you can stay awake for another chapter, love?” I wheeze, fingers combing through the satiny loose curls that I push away from her eyes. The very pair that I’ve seen so many times in the mirror. “You’re getting tired, Bean. It’s been a long day for you with school and swim team practice.” 

“I know, but I can stay awake. It’s getting good.” 

“Pinky P?” I almost giggle, holding out my littlest finger that she hooks hers with. Without fail, I could still picture how tiny her fingers were the first time I saw them, and my how they’ve grown. I think it’d be safe to say somebody is going to have big hands, too. 

“Yeah, it is, but . . . ,” my words escape me momentarily. Distracted, I stop, hearing the sound of a cry from upstairs, wishing that he would walk into the room. That he would help me with this part, and the ones that follow.

“But, what?” 

I’d been called it every day for the last almost ten years, but it still was hard to get used to at times, especially now with the story I tell. I had a hard time sometimes believing how lucky I’d gotten, and she only reminds me as I watch her eyes lull at the feeling of my hand in her hair. Just like somebody I know. 

“But it gets sad, love, because you know, sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.” 

“Stop it, you sound like you’re making up rubbish rules, just like Daddy,” the beloved word falls from her rosebud lips, and we can’t contain our laughter. The imperfect perfections in her cheeks and the sing-song laughter that peels from her lips makes this all the more surreal for me, like I’m looking right at him. “Now, keep going, Mum. I want to hear more of your story.” 

/

It was never really an awkward silence with Harry, save for the few times after we had a row. No, it hadn’t been anything but comfortable since well, before we had started dating. Maybe even not long after I’d become his assistant, if you’re not counting that painful in between time. Today wasn’t one of those times, but sometimes I may have made it awkward when I couldn’t stop staring at him, just like the way I currently watch as his eyelashes flutter against his skin. 

“Skye and Asher?!” the voice says from the phone pressed to my ear. 

“Yep. I still can’t believe it.” 

“Well, I’ll be darned . . huh,” my dad concludes with a soft laugh. “I hope he knows how much trouble he’s in for.” 

“Me too. Skye was pissed with me at first for not introducing them sooner. As if I should’ve known she’d fall in love the second she saw him.” 

“That sounds like her,” he muses with nostalgia carried in his voice. A recent memory sits in my mind from the other day when Skye told me the very story that I’m retelling. The apparent love at first sight with Asher and their first date, a rushed love story at best compared to Harry and I’s. He griped about it, Harry, feeling bad for Asher not knowing what was going to hit him. He had his hands full, alright, both boys. “So, how are things with you and Harry then, Boops?”

“Good, really good,” the answer comes easily to me, yet in a hushed voice as I try not to speak too loudly. My next words pause when a furrow gathers between his two brows, easily remedied by the pad of my thumb. 

“Your trip went well?”

“Yeah, it was loads of fun seeing his family. I met a few more of them, and they’re all so alike. The cheesy sense of humor, love of board games, and they’re kind as can be,” memories bubble up with my words of our trip to Harry’s hometown close to a week ago. 

“Well, it was good to talk to you and catch up, love, but I have to get going to work. You too probably soon, huh?”

“Yeah, and you too, Dad. I miss you . . you’re sure you can’t come up soon for a day or something?” I ask, almost holding my breath, despite knowing it won’t help his answer to sound like the one I want. 

“Not sure, Ree, I’ll have to see how it’s going with the next build, we’re getting busy.” 

“Okay, I hope you can come up somehow . . Well, I’ll talk to you on Monday, Dad,” listening to his subsequent goodbye, I set down my phone, sighing. Shielding a hand over my forehead, I move my legs under the covers, feeling his warm pair. 

It wasn’t often that I’d be awake before Harry, because somehow he was always up early, even on the weekends. Not today, though. I for once had been up before him. It was nice, getting to enjoy him like this, especially considering the way he drove me up the wall yesterday. Silent, asleep Harry was far preferable to me right now. He also couldn’t protest the lazy attempts I made at styling his hair differently when he was asleep, considering he slept like a log. 

The colors had begun to change outside, and the shops were building their candy supplies in preparation for the scary holiday. Despite Fall settling around us, a golden tinge still clung to Harry’s skin. Underneath his golden necklace, at the point of his nose, and around his many tattoos. It still surprised me, the four numbers in my handwriting permanent above his heart. It had been filled with so many firsts, and hopefully a few lasts. 

Glancing at the clock, I found that our alarm still wouldn’t be going off for a good while. Albeit he couldn’t be more handsome when asleep and knowing what I’m about to do, I fight my way into his arms. His groan is instant and so is the smile I try to hide from my lips. 

“Mmm, Becks, ‘m sleepin,’” Harry whines against me, his body like jelly. His arms still find their way around me and so does his chin hooking over top of my head. 

“I just wanna cuddle you before work.” 

“Fine,” it’s a sighed answer in return, but I hear the defeat in his voice. The way sleep beckons for him, his soft snoring soon resuming. His chest is balmy under my cheek where I lay it, listening for the sound of his heart. Next to his laugh, it was my favorite sound. 

It seemed to be a recurring theme throughout today, stealing glances at Harry when he wasn’t noticing, like now as he flips through his menu.

“Are ya gonna ogle me, Becks, or are you gonna figure out what t’ order, love?” 

“I already decided.”

“Good, ‘cos so have I,” he announces, laying his menu down. It’s only seconds later that the server sees, and we’re ordering our breakfast. “Seems you and my gran have really hit it off.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“No, I know so. Saw it even. I haven’t seen her take t’ somebody like that befo,’ certainly not any other girlfriend of mine.”

“I really like her - Claire. She’s sweet and even though we’ve only met a few times, she’s so easy to talk to.”

“I know, I love that ‘bout her. You’d think she was my mum’s mum with how sweet tha two o’ them are. She’s been supportive ever since tha stuff started with my dad, always let me talk t’ her ‘bout it without judgement. It meant loads t’ me,” he divulges to me. I can’t help but nod along, and fold my hand into his in the middle of the table. 

“I bet so. That sounds like my gran Ann, she was my dad’s mum, but she was always there for me.” 

“I see where you get it from, love,” he smiles with a wink of his sunshine eye, lips curling from the rim of his mug of coffee. It still baffles me how he can drink it black, let alone ripping hot. 

God, the things those eyes do to me, those lips too. Okay, Becky, chill. Now is not the time. But, then there’s the outfit he’s wearing today and how it’s so him, and effortlessly handsome. It looks like something my granddad would wear - tan slacks, and a cream long sleeved shirt with chocolate brown stripes. Curls in a mess atop his head and parted in the middle, but somehow, it works. It had become my favorite hairstyle of his recently, but that would quickly change with whatever new one he came up with next. For once, it wasn’t Chelsea boots today or the occasional Vans, but instead saddle brown laced up Oxfords. See, how were the casual outfits so handsome? Harry’s outfits always work, and I wish I knew how. 

“Whatcha starin’ at, hmm? I keep findin’ you lookin’ at me this mornin,’ startin’ t’ wonder why.” 

“What, can I not admire my handsome boyfriend every now and then?” my question comes with a lift of my brow. Now, it’s my turn to look all inquisitive over my cup of coffee. 

“Now, I never said ya couldn’t do that, love,” Harry teases with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. 

It stuck to his lips as he began to read the paper over his coffee until our breakfast arrived. Even then, it remained. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” I titter, cutting my fork through the two layers of pancakes.

“Stop drenchin’ yer pancakes with syrup, yer not gonna taste ‘em. They’ll be all soggy,” he warns, feeding a strip of bacon past his bubblegum pink lips. 

“Stop telling me what to do with my pancakes.” 

“Watch it, li’l one, or else ‘m not gonna share me food with you,” Harry says, pointing his fork at me. It gleams with strips of maple syrup beading at the tines’ ends. My lips ready their rebuttal, but his eyebrows only inch higher as he cocks his head towards me, silently willing me to continue. “I know ya will, ‘s a given. You always ask t’ taste somethin’ off me plate, don’t even try t’ deny it, lovey.” 

It’s difficult to say the least, hiding my smirk and its accompanying giggle. Shaking my head, I sigh as I stab my fork at my pancakes, feeling his foot knock into mine underneath the table. It looked nothing close to Rafael’s here, but somehow, it brought me back to that night in the Italian restaurant. Our first one. The way his foot nudged at mine under the table, and the way his eyes gleamed with a smile. Sometimes, if I thought hard enough, I could feel the fluttering inside of me from the butterflies he still gave me. 

“What? Yer a li’l too quiet fer tha talkin’ t’ I jus’ gave you, bug. No witty comebacks? That’s a surprise and a relief all in one,” Harry jokes, dimples set into his cheeks. He had shaved them just a few days ago, but it looked like it had been longer. 

My lips are absent of any words. Instead, I busy them with the pillowy pancakes drenched in maple syrup. Looking down at my plate, I cut into the potatoes crisp on the exterior with cheese and flecks of pepper. Setting down my fork, I slowly pat on the bottom of the ketchup bottle. 

“Becks? Y’know I was only jokin,’ love.”

“I know, and we both know you’re going to share your lemon poppyseed muffin with me,” it’s my turn for the shit eating grin now. Lifting my gaze, I meet his. 

“I told you!” he begins with a shake of his head, pressing his fist to his overactive mouth. “Told ya t’ order yer own, love.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll share with me because you love me.” 

“I dunno if ‘d go as far t’ say that,” he shrugs. My scoff makes the smile tickle further at his cheeks, and it all but disappears when I pinch his thigh from under the table. “Woman, I swear t’ bloody God-.” 

“Swear what?” I pipe up, setting my chin in my hand as he chuckles away across from me. He suffices a response with a shake of his head, feeding a ripe strawberry past his lips. It doesn’t help that he locks eyes with me the second he does it, and lips slow as can be, at that. “You’re bad.” 

Harry offers a measly shrug in response, and what speaks volumes is the way he tugs the striped bag closer to him, holding our beloved muffin. Ignoring it, I dip a bite of potatoes into my puddle of ketchup, enjoying the hum of the cafe around us. Harry and I had been coming here for a while now- well, before we had started dating. He liked their food and turned me onto them, starting with getting him breakfast and his special muffin when I was his assistant. I don’t think he took me out to breakfast here until I had come back to work at his firm, but it was a nice treat every once in a while, even if it meant having to wake up earlier. 

“I talked to my dad this morning, and told him about Skye and Asher. He was surprised, to say the least. I wish he’d come up and visit one of these days, he’s always so busy.” 

“‘m sure he will when he’s not so busy, love, like when his new build ‘s over,” Harry muses, loudly flipping the page of his paper. Watching as he flattens it out, the bite of potatoes on its way to my mouth pauses. 

“How’d you know about his new build?”

“‘Cos I talk t’ him too. He rang me tha other day, and we spoke ‘bout um . . I dunno, footie and cooking,” he answers, nonchalantly. Nodding, I shake a little more salt onto my potatoes, trying to will Harry to meet my eyes. 

“Maybe he’ll come up if you ask, or if it’s to hang out with you.” 

“Oh, hush, you. He’ll come when he has tha time, love, y’know that. Stop bein’ a pout,” he says, folding his paper back up into a messy square. My head shakes when he holds it out to me, instead setting it to the side before he picks up his coffee. 

A wheezy laugh drops from his lips as he shakes his head at me, “Fine, here, Ms. Pouty. I must love you a whole lot t’ share me muffin,” Harry sighs, reaching into the bag and soon splitting it in half, handing me a chunk.

“Thank you . . love you,” it comes with a wink that he dismisses with a roll of his eyes.

“I know,” he huffs, breaking off a morsel of the dense bread. His eyes twinkle with mischief when I nudge my foot against his leg underneath the table. “Ditto, bug, always love you back too.”

/

I tried to find the words but they wouldn’t come. They couldn’t. Huffing, a hand dives into my hair as I stare back at the screen. It’s a welcomed respite when my wrist sings with a notification. Pushing back my sleeve, it reads Team Meeting at 2pm. I tap my palm against the screen to silence it before standing from my desk.

“Don’t look so sad to see me,” a voice teases. Lifting my eyes, I find Simon gliding down the hall towards me. The lawyer life suited him well, and so did his new job at the firm. He certainly had a flare for the suits, sporting a maroon number today. He seemed to be liking it and Harry never had a bad thing to say about him.

“Hi, Si.”

“Something the matter, Big B?” he pries, bumping his shoulder against mine as we turn into the east conference room where a few bodies congregate.

“No, just stuck on writing this deposition, so this will be a good break.”

“You mean a boring break,” Simon jokes, passing me an empty mug. 

“Hey, I can’t be caught saying that around here,” I say, sarcasm laced in my hushed voice.

“Oh, yeah. We can’t have the boss’ girlfriend be heard saying his speeches were boring,” his animated lilt tickles a happiness at my lips. A laugh passes between us as steam from the hot coffee wafts across my face. 

“What’s this I hear ‘bout boring? Ya aren’t talkin’ ‘bout yer bosses, now are you?” somebody pipes up. Looking over my shoulder, I’m awarded with the sight of Harry grinning far too proudly at his own joke. He embellishes it with a quick wink to me and a hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Oh, me calling you boring? Never in a million years,” Si cracks. I savor the sound of their loud laughs whilst pouring creamer and sugar into mine. Setting it down on the table we stand at, I pick up another mug, filling this one to the top with the scalding coffee.

“Thank you, my love,” my boyfriend smiles when I hand him the hot coffee. “Better go find a seat, tha two o’ you are late, per usual,” he quips, waving a circle into my back before leaving.

“Yeah right, like we’re late,” Si scoffs, turning to walk away. The rest of the gang had joined us by now, and I find an empty seat next to Rose towards the back. 

I had come up with my own little rule at these things. It started with never sitting up front by Harry where he and Myles spoke. Certainly, I never sat in the back straight across from him where his eyes would gravitate. They both were bad ideas, and I’d quickly found them out from a past mistake or two. 

Today, Myles started us off. There was something about a required employee training. Of course, there was the annual Halloween party coming up later this month, a charity function in the works, and working a table at an upcoming uni job fair. Harry and I may or may not be going as a certain Spice Girls couple, wink wink. 

Slowly, like always, it grew to be boring. That’s when the texts started, despite the number of times Harry groaned about me distracting him on previous occasions. I quickly found it near impossible to not give him the dirtiest of looks across the room. It didn’t help that we were on near opposite sides, and he was facing Myles, pretending to pay attention. Per usual.

what should we do 2night for dinner? was thinkin i could do u 2 start with 

He did a terrible job of wicking the smirk from his lips when I looked at him next. Kneading at his bottom lip hardly hid it, and drinking my coffee didn’t save me either.

You’re bad, is all I text back, making it look as if I’m taking notes on my laptop. I just hope nobody else can see, but I try to make sure of that.

oh i could be loads of things if u let me love. like in between ur legs 2night or if ur good enough some time b4 we go home 

He didn’t even need to add a winky face or a saucy emoji. This man and his way with words, I swear it’ll be the death of me. He will, one way or the other. Hiding my laugh with a cough, I bring my mug back to my lips, nearly choking when Harry’s gaze slinks over to mine. 

“You okay?” Si whispers.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, holding eye contact with Harry. Nobody else might notice it, but I see it. The way one of his dimples plays hide and seek with me on his cheek, accompanying his sly lips. A pair that I’m itching to have on me, here and now. Well, in fifteen minutes or so. 

alright becks? choking already thinkin bout me big dick bein in ur mouth?

Stop, we’re in a meeting, Harry. Your meeting 

doesn’t stop me love so don’t let it stop u now 

God, you’re unbelievable, Harry

so are those lips of urs bug. cant wait 2 have those pretty things round me cock 2day. up 2 u if ya want me sooner or later 

Trying to mask my long sigh, I press the cover of my laptop shut. It’s even harder to resist sneaking a look at Harry. He is so full of shit, faking a glance around the room just to make brief eye contact with me. Of course, while he licks his lips. My eyebrows lift only in the slightest and he manages a shrug at me whilst leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head like the cocky boss he is. 

Rose’s spiel that was actually holding my attention is interrupted when my wrist vibrates ten minutes later. I’m already beginning to roll my eyes when I lift it, wondering what Harry has said now. But, it’s not him. It’s who I least expected out of anyone. 

Hi, bunny. I’m in London for a few days . . . I want to see you. Could we get coffee or lunch? xo 

The rest of Rose’s speech goes absolutely over my head. If you asked me what it was about, I couldn’t tell you, despite the fact that I heard it. But no, I didn’t. Not really. Nor did I hear Simon’s subsequent jokes or when Rose called on me to share progress on our case. I couldn’t remember what, just the way everybody looked at me, like the kid in class caught not paying attention. It didn’t help seeing the worry etched onto Harry’s face, then and now, as I sit in the car next to him. 

Another one had come by now, and still, I had no idea what to say or do.

“Did ya hear what I said, ‘bout dinner?” 

Lifting my gaze, I see Harry’s patient one waiting for me. 

“No, sorry. What’d you say?”

Waiting for the light to turn, his hand had folded mine into his firmly. Delicate circles were left on my skin by his thumb. “You alright t’day, Becks?”  

“Fine. Did you want to get takeaway for dinner, or just warm up leftovers?” 

“F’get ‘bout dinner fer a second, Becks, and please tell me what’s been botherin’ you t’day. We agreed on no mo’ lies, bug, and I know yer not fine. I can tell,” his objection comes in a gentle murmur, accentuated by his thumb pressing against mine. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s sighed, almost lost in the Arctic Monkeys song filling the car, until Harry turns it off. “My mum texted me today, during our team meeting.” 

The ‘oh’ that comes from him is teeming with realization and a certain weight to it. All I can think of to do in response is to nod. I busy myself with sliding his new opal ring off his left forefinger. 

“‘s okay, bug, I understand . . ‘m sorry, too. So, what’d her text say?”

The white glow from the touchscreen display in Harry’s Rover illuminates the reflective specks in the stone. They cover the rainbow, spanning from purple, white, pink, and a mint green. Harry had joked when he’d gotten it that I was probably going to steal it from him more often than not, knowing how I loved opals. He was right, and that was a few months ago. I had worn it until now on my thumb when he belatedly stole it back from me. It fit him better, anyways. 

“That she’s in London, and she wants to get together,” my voice is childlike, shy and lacking volume. Harry begins to speak, until I stop him, with my voice and my subsequent words. “Then, when I didn’t respond that I’m invited to lunch with her and Robbie tomorrow afternoon at some restaurant Robbie likes.” 

“Oh,” he hums, lips stilling when he looks over his shoulder before making a turn. “Did you text her back yet?”

“No. I don’t want to go, or talk to her. I dunno why she does this, just pop up out of the blue as if she hasn’t spoken to me in almost two years . . since my accident.” 

“You don’t hafta go, Becks. There’s nothin’ makin’ you go. Yer an adult and you make yer own decisions, bug. You don’t owe her anythin.’” 

“I know, but that doesn’t stop her from the guilt trips. I don’t even remember unblocking her number . . she must have gotten a new one. But, I’m afraid, Harry,” I confess, threading the ring back onto his finger riddled with fine dark hairs. He allows me, having gotten used to it by now, and the way that I trace the veins poking out of his skin. 

“Of what, babe? ‘s not like she can- well, I guess she could.” 

I try to swallow past the nerves, and the unsaid words, but it’s difficult, to say the last. “Yeah, she could. It’s not very hard to Google your name and find the address of your firm. She must know by now that I work for you again.”

“Bug, even if she came t’ tha firm, she has t’ get past Amelia first, and that’s not gonna happen. She’d ring you and say who’s in tha lobby waitin’ fer you, you could easily turn her away, if anythin’.” 

“You’re right.” 

“‘m always right,” he coos, lifting a brow at me goofily when his piercing eyes meet mine. The curl to his lips doesn’t linger, and they soon flatten out with understanding and severity. “It’ll be okay, Becks. Do what feels right. Text her back and say no, or don’t talk t’ her at all. She doesn’t deserve yer time o’ day afta what she’s put you thru.’ Dunno how people like that can’t understand ya don’t jus’ get t’ pop in and out o’ yer kid’s life,” it’s a muttering as his head shakes back and forth. The whirring sound of the garage door opening before us fills the empty space of the car. 

Harry knew. He knew all about it with the disappearing parent act, the parent who was preferable when they were absent. Yet, his Dad had popped back into his life, but this time he hadn’t left. Sometimes, I was a tad bit jealous, if I were honest. Not with him, though, but Skye sniffed it out on me once. I had wished a thousand times over since I was little that my mum was different, that she was a normal mum, and a better one. It never came true that wish, but yet at 28, I still found myself making it without trying. Lasting only moments, I still felt sour with guilt at times for the thought, despite being overjoyed for Harry about the recent development. 

“Have you spoken to your dad lately?” I decide to say, draping my work bag over my shoulder. 

“Ya, um . . yest’day, I think it was. He called me on my way back from tha courts. He’s doin’ a job in Edinburgh but wants t’ get together with us when he’s back. I don’t rememba him bein’ a good cook, but he wants t’ have us over fer dinner at his.” 

“That sounds nice. Would you like that?” 

The house is quiet and dark when we step inside. The typical one word male response comes as I set my shoes next to his on the mat, letting him take my light coat. 

“Shit, kinda forgot ‘bout takeaway. Are leftovers fine, bug?” 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” my answer comes. Harry’s humming fills my ears, and although I love it, my attention is held elsewhere. 

“Let’s wait on dinner,” he announces, but not until his arms come around my middle do I start to pay attention. The two waiting texts before me disappear when Harry gently takes my phone away, setting it down on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea o’ how I could take yer mind off o’ things.” 

I can’t resist, the way my lips split into a smile. The containers of Harry’s famous stir fry are forgotten on the counter when I feel the first kiss he plants to my neck. 

“Oh, really, Mr. Styles, what ever could that be?” it comes out in a giggle, because all control I thought I had is lost with my words. He looks close to one when I turn around in his arms, finding his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Anythin’ ya want, bug, anythin’ at all.” 

“A baby?” I tease, reveling in the sight of his eyes widening. Now, the laugh spills from his decadent, cherry lips. 

“Careful there, Becks, yer gettin’ ahead o’ yerself. Y’know my stipulations on that one,” he jokes, wagging a finger at me. The soft light above the granite top island lends a glow to his face, not that he’d ever need another one, considering the sunshine he holds. I wish I could say the same thing for me, but he whisks it away with those very words. “Y’know ‘ll give you a baby one day, all tha babies you want. But, fer now, what’ll make my bug happiest?” 

My answer doesn’t come in words or a look- well, I may let one go on accident. It’s hard not to while his eyes bore into mine, my hands making their way up his chest underneath his button down. “Will you come and take a bath with me?”

“Certainly. Rough day, bug?” I only nod my head, feeling the knot in my throat when I try to swallow, unable to stop remembering them all. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

My head going from side to side suffices for words, and so does the way I drop my head to his chest. His solid arms come around me, smoothing my hair back with gentle strokes. 

“Sounds like a bath bomb and back massage kinda night.” 

“Thank you,” is all I say, because I know that he knows, without him having to say it. 

“‘Course, my love, jus’ wanna make you happy.” 

Closing my eyes, I try to forget the things that had piled up the last week, and the questions I wish I could ask him, but I’m not sure how. 

I don’t know where it had started, or even when, really. As Harry dips his hand under the bathwater to get it just right, they come floating back to me. The way he had been distant, and yet not, but one outweighed the other. 

“C’mere, my girl,” he coos, inching a finger back and forth, beckoning me over to him. Obliging, the floor is ice cold against my bare feet, but his hands deposit a warmth on my skin I’ve missed. “Can I help you get undressed, honeybug?”

Nodding, I absentmindedly pick a spot on the wall to stare at. It was an imperfection at best, a white divot amongst the soft gray. From one of Harry’s drunken nights nearing a year ago, it appeared one morning and he still hadn’t gotten it fixed. It went unnoticed for lengths at a time, but I wish I could say the same for the things I picked up on this week. The way he’d immediately hang up on a phone call when I entered the room, at work or home. Speaking of his phone, he wouldn’t let me use it when I’d happen to lose mine and needed to look something up, not even to take a picture. Instead, he’d make up some excuse about expecting a call, or that it was about to die, despite seeing his battery was at least half full. It confused me, to say the least, but that only shrank in comparison when it came to the apparent work dinner I wasn’t invited to the other night. Then, there was the entire absence of talking about ring shopping, as if it had never existed. I’d ask if we could go and look at this shop, and he’d agree to it but no more would be said. Or, I’d show him a ring I saw online and he’d have nothing more to say than a one word response. It didn’t help that Skye seemed too busy for me as well, cancelling our weekly dinner to hang out with Asher instead, as if we couldn’t have all hung out together. I could have used one of her pep talks, or so I thought until I mentioned my predicament to her, and she brushed it off, telling me it was probably nothing. That only drove me further up the Worry Wall, now wondering if I was making something out of nothing. 

/

“Alright, bubs?” 

She wasn’t alright, and I could tell. It was clear as day, beginning with the far away look in her eye. It only stuck as I lifted her sweater dress over her head, and peeled her black jeggings from her legs. 

“Pinky P?” she ignored our inside joke and got into the tub first. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I watched her as she rested her chin on her knees that hugged her chest. I wondered if she knew, and if I had been too distant, trying to hide it from her. The last thing I would ever want to do in the world is to hurt her. I’m afraid that while trying to do the most important thing in my life, I’ve hurt her in the process. 

“Becks, wanna go out t’ dinner t’gether on Friday? I heard ‘bout this really great place, I think we’d like it,” she hums an audible confirmation, it’s barely there, whilst holding the raspberry colored bath bomb in her hand. “‘m gonna go and warm up dinner and we can eat it in tha bath. That sound good t’ you, bub?”

“Sure,” she says, again. She usually loves my stir fry, and when she doesn’t request her classic big glass of milk with it to keep the spicyness in check, I know she’s not herself. 

Shit, what have I done? 

I find her eyes have lulled closed after I set my empty dinner plate on the floor on top of hers. “C’mere, li’l one,” I hum, waving my fingers in and out towards her. She groans a denial, content to rest her head on her knees still. I don’t take no for an answer, hooking my hands in the crease of her legs. “Becks baby.” 

Huffing, she lifts her pretty head and stuns me with those eyes. A tiredness sits in them, something more than exhaustion from getting up at six am today. Flashing my award winning smile at her, she at last uncurls herself and wades through the bathwater until I pull her onto my lap. 

Now, the hot water isn’t the only thing keeping me warm when she curls up against my chest. Water collects at the ends of her hair, making it hard to comb my fingers through, but only at first. Peering down at her, I watch as her bare chest rises and falls with breaths, something I once was so afraid of not seeing. To never get to see again. 

I thank my lucky stars on the daily for still being blessed with this sight. Her temple is damp with beads of sweat and water mixed together, but I can still smell it there, the orange blossoms and vanilla. Her smell, one I could inhale forever. 

“‘m sorry ‘ve been so busy lately, I know ‘ve been a bit distant,” it begins as a mumble on my lips, and there’s no stopping it in time. “Know you’ve noticed it too, and that ‘s upset ya.” 

“Is something wrong? Did I-,” her question is spoken gingerly, fear in her voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

“No, ‘course not, bug. Nothing’s tha matter, and you didn’t do anythin’ wrong, please don’t think you did. ‘ve jus’ been busy with a project at work, but I promise it’ll be finished soon,” the thought itself brought to life by my voice teases my lips with a smile, knowing the finish line that I approach. At last. 

“Okay . . thanks, Harry.” 

“Welcome, bubs,” I murmur, exhaling against her forehead. Her forehead is balmy where I rest my lips, letting my eyes shut too, listening to nothing but the sound of her breathing. After all of this time, I still felt a chill in my bones when my thoughts were yanked to her accident. Now, it only makes me feel as if my words didn’t do enough to reassure her, but I wasn’t sure what more I could do without giving it away. No, I couldn’t do that. “I love you so much, Becks, can’t wait t’ marry you one day.” 

“I love you too, Harry,” it’s an almost snigger from her decadent lips. I wait for more, but it doesn’t come, not until she stirs in my arms. 

“What d’ya think yer doin’?” it’s my turn to spill a giggle, watching her move in my arms until she’s facing me. More importantly, straddling my lap and running a hand through my hair. 

Her answers came in a simple shrug of her shoulders, but the tilt to her lips spoke volumes more. My name for her sounds from my lips as a tut, but she quickly whisks it away with her own on mine. The rippling of the bath water around us is the only sound besides the way our lips move together. Her ass is spongy and slick beneath my naked fingers, and her squeal against my lips is heaven and everything more. 

“Can I still take you up on that offer?” her words graze my mouth, craving me to reach forward and return them to mine. 

“What offer, bug?” I ask under hooded eyes, mine boring into hers the color of bottomless oceans. 

It was more than music to my ears, it was everything good stitched together by her lips, “To take my mind off things . . and yours, in the process.” 

“Certainly,” I say, beginning to move until her hands push against my chest. “Use yer words.” 

“Let me.” 

It’s a giggled reply at best, because as she adjusts herself on top of me, any possibility of speaking soon wanes. “Yer bloody confusin,’ y’know that, Becks?” 

“Is this confusing to you, Harry?” she murmurs with a flick of her expressive brows. It’s not her words, but something else that knocks some air out of me. Nearly impossible to notice, her composure has grown since she’s become a lawyer, especially as she starts to rub her crotch against my hardening member. 

“Not at all, baby, jus’ tell me what you need me t’ do.” 

“Kiss me,” she answers, fervor shining in her voice. I don’t even get to laugh before she steals it from me with her lips, bringing a groan from them next when she takes my dick in her hand. 

/

A quiet battle rages inside of me, not wanting her to leave, but at the same time, I need her to. There’s never a day where she doesn’t look beautiful, and on days when she has court she tries even more. She asked me once when I find her the most beautiful, and her first guess was these days when she argued her case, but I said no. It brought her eyebrows together in confusion, pinching her oval face in the cutest of ways. No, I found her the most beautiful in the first light of the morning, in the way sleep clung to every bit of her, making her slower and more . . her. It could be found in the lighty giggles that she painted the air with, the way her nose scrunched together in the middle of one. Her hair swept in different places, and how she clung to me like my own personal koala. If koalas were simultaneously personal heaters. Becks was most beautiful in the morning, because in those first few minutes of waking up, I was reminded anew that she chose to be mine. A dream of mine I doubted over and over about the possibility of. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t need makeup to make her beautiful, but her eyelashes longer from mascara fluttered against her skin with the question. Her dark chocolate eyebrows she swept a pencil over every morning hugged the pale skin between them. 

“Oh,” it plummets from my lips with astonishment, and a clearing of my throat. The left corner of her mouth greets her cheek when the gesture clicks with her. God, sometimes she can still take my breath away by just the sight of her, even several years later. “Ya still manage t’ make me weak in tha knees, y’know that? I dunno how you do it, bug,” I reply with a clicking of my tongue, edging towards her. A shade of coral arrives in her cheeks with my words and proximity, only growing darker when I wrap my arms around her from behind. 

“So do you, you know.” 

“Mmm, thought so, thanks fer tha confirmation, love,” it’s a reply joined by my nose against her temple. Her flighty laugh graces my ears once more, and I’m smiling without knowing it. God, I can’t wait to hear that laugh for the rest of my life. Which reminds me. “You and Rose should get goin’, love, if ya want t’ get t’ tha courts early. Lunch traffic may be bad.” 

“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Harry?”

“‘m not, jus’ lookin’ out fer you, ‘s all,” I choose to say, glad she can’t see the way that I check my watch, seeing the texts waiting on my screen. Too similar to how they’re waiting. 

“Okay, Dad. I’ll see you later then, for dinner tonight?” Suddenly, I’m looking into her eyes, the very color I hope our kids have. I know our kids will have them, they’ll be so lucky.

“‘ll see you afta yer done, bug. Good luck on yer case, I know you’ll smash it.” 

“Thanks,” it’s spoken with warmth, one that I know I’ll miss despite wanting her to go. Needing her to go. “Still picking me up after?”

“‘Course, my love. We can’t f’get dinner t’night.” 

“I’m excited. Rose said she likes Isabelle’s,” she comments, wasting her

time by playing with the opal ring on my hand. Mine that she’d stolen for a good while, and I finally took back. “They have really good desserts and steaks.” 

“‘ve heard that too. Can’t wait t’ try some with you t’night,” it comes out with a smile, but I’m never sure that I could ever match hers. It had gotten better over the last few days, I think I was finding a balance between keeping it but not keeping her out. Her lips taste of cinnamon roll coffee creamer and cherry chapstick when I peck her, just how she always does. I could do with kisses tasting like that forever and ever. “Bye, bug. You girls drive safe now.”

“We will. Bye, have a good day.” 

“See ya. Stop putzing, and get goin,’ li’l one,” I titter, savoring the taken aback look on her face when I slap her ass. The sound of her’s fills my ears as I join her in the hallway, watching her walk away and get onto the lift. 

I give it a few more moments, imagining the space placed between us,  hoping she won’t be returning for something she had forgotten. Now, that would be bad. Only once I feel confident, do my feet wake up and I start on my way, contradicted by the way my heart gallops like a horse right out of the gates. 

“Here we go, Harry. One o’ tha biggest days o’ yer lives, jus’ on tha horizon,” I mumble aloud to me and only him, stopping when I reach the door. Already, I can hear their voices from this side, but before I can open it, I fill my lungs with an impatient breath. 

Their sounds slowly fall when I make my entrance, feeling as I’m still running that race inside of my chest, knowing I’m nowhere near the finish line. Perhaps, I’m just a bit closer. When each of their faces lifts to mine, the faces of our families, it imbues me with a shattering sense of reality meeting dreams. One I’ve had held inside of me for so long now. 

“Alright, so ‘bout t’night then. You lot ready t’ help me with this or what?”

/

I thought I knew what I was doing, but when I turned onto our street, I quickly found that I had no idea at all. I was afraid she could feel the clamminess of my hand, or that that feeling of hers would give it away all entirely. The dinner had gone as perfectly as it could’ve, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I only hoped that the next part would, because it was the most important one of all. Arguably, this would be the most important case of my life that I needed to win. A whirring of the garage door gave a background to my thoughts as I tap at my Apple watch, heaving a sigh when I see the text. 

We’re all ready when you are! 

/

Pulling my coat around me tighter, I follow Harry through the garage and into the house. He had promised more chocolate once we had gotten home from dinner. Although it sounded wonderful, I wasn’t sure how I could fit any more in my stomach after the lavish meal we had just stuffed ourselves with. I still couldn’t figure out why he had gone out of his way to have dinner together at one of the most expensive places in town, Isabelle’s. 

I barely get the chance to shrug off my coat when I feel him tug on my hand. His name escapes my lips in a giggle, similar to the one that gleams in his eyes. 

“C’mon, bug, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you,” Harry insists, waiting for me to join him. Leaving the dark downstairs, I follow him up the flight of wooden steps. 

“What’s that?”

“Yer supposed t’ be able t’ see Jupiter t’night in tha night sky. I know ‘s yer favourite one, bug,” I find myself nodding along with his words. Still, I’m unable to tear myself away from the warm gray suit he donned for tonight, the one that started it all for us. 

“Okay, but I really need the loo first.” 

“‘Kay, take yer time. ‘ll try t’ see if I can find it fer us then,” the words leave my lips with a wobbliness to them. If that feeling of her’s was piqued or if she knew something, Becks didn’t let on. All she did was flash me a funny smile before rushing into the bathroom, hardly closing the door. 

No matter the lengths I go to, I can’t seem to breath in long enough. It all was descending upon me, as I peeked out at the back garden and felt a warmth bubbling inside of me and onto my lips. The effervescent feeling carried through in my limbs as I stepped onto the balcony, pressing record before smoothing down my hair and my suit. 

I felt like if it were ever going to happen, my heart would certainly leap from my chest tonight. Just in a matter of moments, for her. Because of her. 

/

“Did you find it, Harry?” I wonder aloud, stepping through the doorway of the bathroom, returning to our bedroom. 

“Y-Ya,” from the balcony of our bedroom, he responds. Was that a stammer, I just heard? “C’mere, bug, lemme show you.” 

“Okay,” my answer comes, and so does a thought when I glance Harry’s phone propped up on our bed with the camera pointing at me. Funny that it landed that way, I wonder when he’s going to break it from tossing it onto our bed so many times, I think quietly to myself. 

The midnight indigo sky beckoned me forth, as did Harry who looked at me over his shoulder. A soft glow from the balcony light fell over us as I stopped at the railing beside him, peering up at the night sky. 

“Alright,” he sighs, stretching out his arm to point a ringed finger at the expanse of darkness. “Ya see that bright light over on tha left hand side o’ tha sky? There it ‘s, that’s Jupiter fer ya. Told ya I knew a thing or two ‘bout space, Becks.” 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” it comes out in a drawn out breath, astonishment dripping from my words. Even if it was just a twinkling light in the night sky, it was that seven letter word beginning with an A. 

A tingly warmth builds on my cheek, and looking to my right, I find Harry smiling at me. For a second, I think I see a wetness collecting in his eyes, but it’s gone when I blink. 

“What?”

My question sits in the air, unanswered by him while he brushes his thumb across my cheek. 

“Yer amazin,’ Becks . . prettier than any star in any sky, my love,” his words are spaced out in between breaths, and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, punctuating the end of his words. The corners of my lips lift into a smile, something he can never fail to do, but it was only one out of many. 

“Thank you, Harry,” I murmur softly, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. In the movement, something catches my eye. The feeling of his prickly cheek against my lips is but a memory as my gaze follows through with its curiosity. “Wait, what’s-.” 

My lips pause and so does the question on my lips when I peer down at our back garden. The trees and bushes are lit up all over by candlelight. A breath gets caught in my throat as the image before me comes together, candles organized with their flames spelling two words. My hand instantly flies to my mouth as my breath escapes me, tears taking their place. 

They read, MARRY ME?

I didn’t hear it or let alone see it, the way he had sunk down onto one knee, but when I turn to face Harry, the first one falls. Down my cheek, and then his. His trademark wheeze paints the air as his sages overflow with tears. Swallowing, I taste the briny ones on my lips as an image I’d dreamt of and doubted fills my eyes. It’s unmistakable, the way his knee shakes, the other bent underneath him as the light catches the gleaming diamond ring held in his hand. 

“H-Harry,” it’s shaky and adorned with tears, but the sight before me becomes clearer when I blink. “Yes, of course, yes!” I exclaim, and he’s laughing deeply. 

“I haven’t even said anythin’ yet, bug,” he chuckles loudly with a shake of his head. “C’mere you, get over here.” Obliging, my legs nudge me over to him where he takes my hand in his. 

“Bloody hell, woman, I memorized this whole speech. Least let me try and say it,” the obnoxious and loud laugh that spills from his lips could never fail to be music to my ears. He blows out a breath from his lips rounded into an O, and we both shed apprehensive giggles. “Have I ever told you all o’ tha things I love most ‘bout you, Becks? I could write a book ‘bout ‘em all, but they start with how kind you always are. Reckon it was tha first thing I noticed ‘bout you after those killer eyes o’ yers on tha day we met. You’ve never stopped being kind t’ me, even when I didn’t deserve it, or when others didn’t. That and how bloody unrelenting you are were tha first things that struck me ‘bout you when you were my assistant, Becks. I never would’ve thought we’d get t’ where we are t’day seein’ where we started, but I could never thank you enough fer not givin’ up on me, Becks . . on us. God, ‘m ramblin’ now, ‘m sorry,” there it is again, his signature wheeze. A similar sound comes from me as we take a breather to wipe at our eyes. The only sound surrounding us is the galloping of my heart, probably his too, and my favorite sound falling from his lips. 

“It’s okay, keep going. You’re doing great,” I urge him in a soft whisper, hoping my wink is half as good as his when he smiles that sunshine up at me. He nods once, squeezing my hand firmly before going back to tracing nervous circles onto my knuckles. 

“Yer humor too, it may be cheesy sometimes, and not as funny as mine,” no, my wink could never be good as the one he gives me now. Effortlessly cute. “But I love it, and so many mo’ things ‘bout you, Rebecca Ann. Tha way you take care o’ me. I know ‘ve said it befo’ but yer so good t’ me with yer cookin’, puttin’ up with my cold feet in bed and tha way I hog tha covers, workin’ t’gether at me firm which I know presents ‘s own set o’ challenges, and how you’ve made me into a better person ev’ry day since I met you. Ya get on me nerves and yer stubborn as a bloody bull, but I can’t imagine spendin’ tha rest o’ me life with anybody but you. ‘s been that way fer years now, love, and I can’t go another day without you knowin’ it.” 

“I do, Harry,” it’s a mere whisper, but his smile soaks it all up, and so does mine for his sunshine. 

“Hey, what’d I say ‘bout you gettin’ ahead o’ yerself here?” his lips couldn’t lift higher and his sunshine couldn’t be brighter. Our heads shake with songs of laughter, my very favorite tune in the entire world. “Yer me favourite thing in this entire world, bug, and I want t’ spend tha rest o’ me life showin’ you that ev’ry day. I wanna have so many babies with you, even a li’l boy named Lennon perhaps, and a li’l girl named Luna, like we’ve said . . I want t’ argue cases with you fer tha rest o’ me career, ‘cos yer me favourite lawyer. Yer my partner, bug, and I always want t’ have you there at my side, Becks . . There’s so much mo’ I could say t’ you, tellin’ you how I love you, but I know I have tha rest o’ me life t’ do it. So, Rebecca Ann Holte-,” he pauses with a frog in his throat, shaking his head. A knot tightens in mine as I watch him press his face into the crook of his arm, crying quietly with a smile. Pulling away after a moment, he exhales and looks to me with a wet smile dripping with sunshine.

“Harry,” I sigh, tears tightening around my words. 

Clearing his throat, he continues, “What d’ya say t’ changin’ that last name o’ yers t’ Styles fer me? Will you marry me, Becks?”

“There’s nothing I’d want more, Harry, than to spend the rest of my life with you,” they’re coated in tears, soon mixing with his when I collapse into his arms, my lips pressed against his. I feel the nervousness spill at last from his lips when they touch the crown of my head, laying kisses there in layers as we shed happy tears. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Yer ev’rythin’ ‘ve ever wanted, Becks,” Harry whispers there, pressing me firmly against his front. The light catches the well of tears in his eyes when I belatedly pull away, bringing my hand to his cheek. “My fiancee.” 

“Fiancee . . I like the sound of that,” I murmur, tracing the outline of his bottom lip. He nods with my words, just as a tear falls into the divot in his cheek. 

“Y’know what I like tha sound of?” his voice is gentle and just above a whisper that I answer with my head cocked to the side. “Rebecca Styles. Becky Styles.” 

It couldn’t feel sweeter, the sound that coasts off my lips, him soon replicating it. Even sweeter it tastes when I touch my lips to his, finding that same word in his smiling eyes. Following them, they fall to the mahogany colored wooden box he clutches in his hand. 

“Oh, ya, can’t forget ‘bout this now. ‘s very important,” Harry says, opening the box once again, and I’m brought to tears by the sight of it. 

“Harry, is that-,” I begin, but tears take hold of my voice prematurely, my hand over my mouth in disbelief. Sniffling, his ring laden hand dives into my hair, knowing how it calms me. “H-Her ring?”

Flicking my eyes to his, he hums a reply before his lips part, “Ya, ‘s yer Grandma Ann’s, Becks.” his neck smells of vanilla and sandalwood when I find myself in his arms again, spewing ugly tears onto his shoulder. “Been on tha phone with yer dad almost ev’ry day fer tha last two weeeks talkin’ ‘bout it, ‘bout doin’ this.” 

Hiccups rack my chest when I pull away, eyes gravitating towards the glinting piece of jewelry tucked away into his large hand. “I-I see why you were being so sneaky lately,” I muster, swiping under my eyes. Despite the breaths I try to shove down my lungs, I can’t stop shaking. 

“Ya, ‘m sorry ‘bout that. I thought somethin’ was up with you, figured you’d noticed. Didn’t mean t’ keep you out, Becks, but couldn’t have you findin’ out and spoilin’ all tha fun I had planned fer you,” he murmurs, booping my nose. My eyes fall shut when he presses his lips to my cheek, nudging his face against mine. “Important stuff here . . Now, let’s see if it fits.” 

Gulping, I hold out my hand, wincing at the way it shakes. As I watch his long fingers delicately remove the golden ring from the velvet cushion, I try to remember how I’d come to be sitting on his lap. How all of this had happened. A sigh of relief washes over me when he takes my hand in his, gently squeezing it before his other nears it. With bated breath, my gaze flicks between his hand and his greens that watch the same. 

A smile climbs my cheeks as Harry slides off my promise ring, pressing his lips to the naked skin. Happiness sighs from my lips with a choked sound, watching how he carefully places the thin golden band onto my finger. Folding my fingers into his, his wheeze graces the air as I admire the nostalgic ring.

“They’re me Grandma Claire’s diamonds too, from her wedding ring. She wanted me t’ use ‘em when I told her I was goin’ t’ propose t’ you,” he explains softly as I tilt my hand back and forth, watching how the several diamonds catch the light. 

“Oh, Harry,” it catches in my throat as disbelief paints my insides. Guilt rises with it as I remember growing upset with him in my mind, fearing that this was never going to happen. Now, as I stare down at the ring that seals our promise, I truly can’t fathom it. Seeing is believing. 

I’d seen this ring time and time again whilst growing up, admiring it on several occasions. My gran even let me wear it once or twice, joking that it was because I was her favourite. I never thought I would get to wear it one day myself, and that thought makes my vision swim with more tears. Blinking them away, I brush my thumb over the round diamond set into the middle, and the smaller tear drop shaped ones set into the winding bands of gold connecting to the main band. 

“How’s it fit, bug?” 

“Perfect,” my answer is shy, riddled with memories from the only other time I’d worn it before. It had once swallowed my finger, hanging dangerously loose. Not now. No, it fit me snugly, reminding me of all of the years that had passed. Bringing my eyes to his, the dimples only fall deeper into his cheeks. “It’s more than beautiful, Harry, thank you . . Thank you for letting me keep her with me every day, and Claire too.” 

“Yer mo’ than welcome, Becks. ‘m so happy that they get t’ be a part o’ this with us.” 

My chest only shakes harder when he says those words, and I even feel his do the same against mine. At last, the dryness in my throat wasn’t because of pain or hurting, but for a moment, I let myself feel that. I allow myself to remember speaking with her about when I would get married one day as I wore her ring that was too big for me, wishing for a second that I could go back to that day. 

“Harry, you have no idea how much this means to me . . to get to have her with me for this.” wrinkles gather around his eyes when I see them again. They’re painted with tears, and the mere sight of him makes my heart swell. I never thought it could be this good. No, not when I dreamt out loud with my gran about one day wearing a big, white dress and marrying the man of my dreams. I could have never known that I’d be blessed with a man who was that, and more. “I used to talk to her about my silly little girl dreams of getting married, and she’d let me try on her ring and . . “ I muse, my forehead pressed to his, staring at the ring together. 

“Yer dad told me ‘bout that, it only made it seem even mo’ perfect t’ use her ring. He was so happy t’ pass it on t’ me, Becks- onto you,” Harry whispers, sponging kisses across my face in slow movements. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been smiling, and was sure that I’d never be able to stop, mumbling soft ‘thank you’s to him. 

“Well?!” comes a shout from nowhere. Nearly jumping, my gaze lifts to the balcony railing and the flickers of light I make out through them where the voice had come from. “What’d she say?! We’re bloody dying over here waiting, and freezing our asses off, mind you!” When my eyes meet Harry’s, our giggles light up the air around us, our breaths mingling. 

“I’m fucking freezing! Are you done yet?” comes yet another voice, one that I also recognize. My eyebrows only fall further into a question as I look at Harry. 

His shoulders rise only to fall, “What? Don’t think I set up all o’ those candles and lit ‘em meself, d’ya? ‘s flatterin’ if ya think so, but I had a li’l help.” 

“What, who?”

“Who d’ya think, bug? Our family,” he answers, swiping his thumb underneath my eye to catch a tear. It makes my lips still, the way he said it. They’re my family now, and mine is his. “Care t’ do tha honors, or shall I?” 

“You can. I just know you’re itching to,” it’s a giggle that only grows louder as he lifts his eyebrows at me. 

“She said yes! We’re gettin’ married!” Harry shouts, and a loud cheer follows ensuite from down below. My favorite sound in the world fills my ears when his lips come to press against my head. “My Becks, forever and ever, baby.”

“Forever,” I repeat aloud, trying it out, as if I hadn’t already a million times over in my head. “Wait, who all did you rassle together for this sneaky mission of yours?” 

“We’ll meet you inside, it’s fucking cold out!” Robbie shouts, followed by a loud ‘brr.’

It comes from his lips again, that sound. Tilting my head to meet his eyes, the sound of his heart thumps in my ear. I’m not sure I could have found a better spot. 

“As you can tell by their loud mouths, Skye and Robbie, first o’ all. Then, ‘course yer dad and my mum, me sister, Myles, and Asher,” he grins, pride dripping from every word he speaks. “My Dad helped with tha reservation at Isabelle’s, he couldn’t have spoke higher o’ tha place. I can see why now, can’t picture our pre-proposal dinner bein’ anywhere else. It only made t’night mo’ perfect . . ‘d thought o’ doin’ it with Scrabble tiles, seein’ how ‘s always been our thing, but I wanted somethin’ grander. Mum and Gemma gave me tha idea o’ spellin’ it out bigger ‘til I thought o’ candles. Then, it was jus’ a matter of gettin’ enough o’ ‘em and lightin’ ‘em. I left tha hard part t’ them, and that jus’ left me with tha ring. Reckon that was really tha most difficult o’ all. Me Gran said I could have her wedding ring, I almost started cryin’ I was so choked up ‘bout it. It was that weekend I took ya home with me, seems it made her a li’l emotional talkin’ t’ ya knowin’ what was gonna happen. That was ‘til yer dad said he wanted me t’ have yer Grandma Ann’s ring, seein’ how close tha two o’ you were . . It jus’ seemed perfect, ‘d been thinkin’ so long on what kinda ring t’ get you, and it jus’ clicked. ‘Course, I still wanted t’ include me Gran somehow. Yer Gran’s ring was missin’ a few stones and hers fit jus’ right. I couldn’t be happier ‘bout tha ring, Becks, and it looks so beautiful on you, love. Like . . like it was made fer you, bug.” 

Words escape me, not that any feel like they could do any justice at this moment. No, those ones aren’t anywhere to be found, besides the ‘thank you’ I tell him, and the other one I say to him with my lips. 

I’m unsure if my legs will ever stop feeling like Jello when he helps me stand, my arms around his waist at the soonest chance. His lips radiated sunshine, but this time, every inch of his face did too. It’d spread to his limbs, imbuing me with his contagious rays when his arms come around me, and the way his lips wouldn’t leave mine alone. 

“What are you doing?” it’s a mumbled question laced with pure confusion when he pulls me over to the right side of the balcony. Realization only dawns on me when I watch what he picks up, light at last revealing it. “You recorded it?” there they are again, hugging my voice and refusing to let go. 

“‘Course, I did,” Harry grins, sliding his hand into the cloth handle on the other side of the compact camcorder. “Still am, look at my beautiful fiancee, and soon t’ be wife.” 

“Harry,” it sounds sad until my laugh overwhelms it, because my smile hasn’t even signalled a departure. 

“Look at that dimple shinin’ so bright,” he remarks, thumbing at the indent in my left cheek. It wanders to the imperfection below my eye. His hand is warm and clammy when mine comes to surround it, overflowing his eyes with tears. “And that ring- bloody hell, can’t believe I get t’ marry you- Hey, kids, if yer watchin’ this one day, which I bloody well hope you are, this ‘s yer Mum. ‘sn’t she absolutely gorgeous? I can’t wait t’ marry yer Mummy, she’s truly tha best person ‘ve met in me entire life- well, ‘til we meet you lot.” 

“Harry,” this time, it’s choked with a sob, or a few. His hand comes to his eyes, pressing his thumbs against his greens with that sunshine on his lips. The breathy sound of happiness sings from his lips when he drops it after a few moments of soft tears, staring back at me, his book wide open. 

“Figure we should show ‘em tha main attraction,” panning to the right, I follow him to the balcony where the multitudes of flickering flames still remain. “We’ll hafta go and blow ‘em out.” 

“Not yet. I just want to look at them awhile . . with you.” 

His reply is only a sniffle, amplified by the way he pulls me against his side, pointing the lens at us now. I look past it, down at the ground where the sight still steals the breath from my lungs, just like the pair of lips on my forehead. 

A few moments later, maybe longer, Harry’s whisper breaks through my thoughts, “Ready t’ go downstairs and show ev’rybody?” 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

“Dontchu worry, we’ve got forever, Becks.” 

Usually, I’d roll my eyes at the cheesy line he deals, but I can’t stop staring at him, still smiling at the thought of getting that with him. Forever. 

/

It beckoned me, trying and failing to drag me away, but I still wasn’t ready. Soft snores had begun to leave his lips long ago. I’m not even sure what the hour was anymore. Skye was the last to leave, to nobody’s surprise, when the small hand was nearing the eleven. Chocolate galore, charcuterie boards, pizzas, and sparkling grape juice filled the hours amongst more crying and stories upon stories. Harry’s clothes were the first to go once we were alone, and mine followed his soon after. 

I wondered if I’d ever stop thinking about it, or more importantly, stop staring at it. Only the least bit of light ran through the barely closed curtains, catching the ring, just like it’d always been. I also wondered when I’d stop crying, it was a little embarrassing when it happened in between the sheets with Harry. 

His stirring beside me brought my eyes upward and to him. Lines gathered on Harry’s forehead in his sleep, relaxing a second later. A huff fell from his lips and into the air as he relaxed, an inked arm stilling underneath his pillow. With a long blink, I belatedly tug the covers over my shoulders, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. He didn’t groan anymore or even move at the touch, or when the tip of my finger begins to trace the lines of the numbers hovering over his heart. The year that started it all, a three letter word that now had turned into forever, something I never thought I would get to have with him. I fall asleep with the smile still stuck to my lips, unwavering against the warm skin of his neck. 

/

A few days later, and it still hadn’t worn off. Secretly, I was hoping that it never would. Again, the smile still came when I caught sight of the promise on my finger, and was only a reach away. When I stopped in front of the sink in our ensuite bathroom, it fell when I called to Harry with a question, but only for a moment. 

“Babe, have you seen my pill pack?”

“No, I don’t think so. Have you checked tha usual spots?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I put it,” sighing, I pad across the cold, tile floor. “Oh. Well, I’m sure I’ll find it.” 

* 

Song: Let’s Get Married by The Bleachers (click to listen) ;) ;) 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles wattpad #harry styles romance #lawyer!harry #ceo!harry #boss!harry #asshole!harry #harry au #harry styles au #writing #wattpad #fanfic #fanfiction #lawyer romance #office romance #enemies to lovers #slowburn #becks holte #the assistant #the assistant h.s. #the partner h.s. #vanchlo writes #narrymccartney writes #young adult #fiction #love

[jadedragoness]

Review: Peace Talks

First Read Through Reaction

Now staring off, knowing that the book was essentially part one of two did mean that I went in expecting that there would be plot lines that wouldn’t be resolved. I did NOT expect that nearly zero of the plot lines would be resolved, at all. Yikes. Now, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. I did. But it felt like there were 50 to 60 pages missing that should have been in the story to at least wrap up minor plot lines before heading into ‘Battle Ground’.

Warning: Full of Spoilers

Such the arrival of the Outsiders those Cornerhounds. Um… Outsiders and at no point that Harry wonder why in the hell they were called to Chicago? Or why they were targeting him and Ebenezer. Seriously, unless the author totally forgot we know that Outsiders can only be called by mortals. So human wizards brought them. So was it someone in the ‘Black Council’ or was it the Formor, since we know from previous stories that they grab humans and mind-whammy them and also modify them. And we know that they’ve been pretty focused on grabbing minor practioners for a couple of years now.

Hell, even just knowing why Thomas attacked the svartalf King would have been good to know in the book even if we don’t find out who it was yet.

That being said lets start of with things I didn’t like.

Thing Which I Wasn’t All that Pleased About:

1. Butters in that threesome relationship.

Now, let me explain, it’s not because its a poly relationship. I don’t even twitch over how Justine and Thomas include others in the sexual part of their relationship. It’s because I kept wondering if Marci was even into dudes. As far as I knew she was only into girls. And now she’s suddenly bi?

What the hell?

I think my reaction has a lot to do with how skewed the sexual orientation gradient in shown among Named characters. You have straight men. Straight women. Bi women who are shown to be blatantly into men and women…and that’s it, now.

No lesbian women with zero interest in men. No bi men. No gay men. No asexual characters. No trans characters. No gender fluid people.

I know that this due to the author’s eye and while it hasn’t irritated me much in the past as we keep getting more and more books with more newly introduced characters the lack is becoming more and more glaring to me. Especially, as I have drifted into reading other series that manage to be way more inclusive about this sort of thing in great and amazing ways *sighs happily over Rivers of London series*. And I don’t just mean in passing with random nameless scenery people that never talk which have popped up in the Dresden Files but with actual characters that have names, dialogue and contribute to the series.

So it really, really annoys me that Marci went from being the only lesbian who is a named character to joining the horde of bi women in the DF verse.

Okay, so its not really a Butters issue to much as a grumble about the spectrum of gender and sexually needing better representation.

*grumbles* Step up your game, Butcher.

I will add that I’m head-canoning that actually the relationship here is Butters with Andi, Andi with Butter and Marci, and Marci with Andi. That pretty much with Butters running around being the new Knight Andi didn’t like how her boyfriend wasn’t paying attention and gave Butters the ultimatum of letting Marci in as Andi’s girlfriend or they broke up.

… yeah, I’m totally liking that spin way, way better.

2. That Marcone took forever to show up! ARGH! I love him ok.

Considering how early he was name dropped in the story the amount of time it took him to show up… Jim Butcher is a damn Marcone-tease. *glares hotly in author’s direction*

3. I don’t like it that Murphy is so hurt. I don’t hate it. I think I’m just uneasy about the future implications.

Having reread the entire series before reading ‘Peace Talks’ I fully expected some lingering injury but not to that level. I’m actually worried about her chances of surviving any upcoming battle, and not just in Battle Ground. There’s even more danger coming down the pipeline in future books and she won’t let herself stay ‘safe’ when she could be watching Harry’s back… so its a worrying problem.

Now if she died I have no doubt that her being recruited to be a Valkerie is an option. But then I remembered how those warrior women go out into the world with ‘clients’ and of the two we’ve seen they’ve been attached to ‘monsters’ aka Lara and Marcone.

Unless, the payment isn’t cash and she can be attached to Harry. *hums in thought*

But then I have to wonder how much Murphy would accept that role. She’s also a pretty devout Catholic as this book reminded us so that is also something that would make her say no to the offer.

4. That the younger Wardens who had so looked up to Harry being so damned suspicious… ow. That hurt. I may have teared up and sniffled into a tissue thinking about it. And then sobbed because so much of it came from Carlos… Carlos! The man went into the Deeps with Harry! Ouch.

5. Rudolph… that roach.

Ugh, I’ve had the disturbing thought that now that magic and the supernatural on the path to being exposed to all of humanity, scared humanity too, that will end up with a resurgence of a new Inquisition and the killing of anything eldritch. And you know that Rudolph would definitely be in it. *shudders in disgust* Creep.

BTW I totally don’t believe that Rudolph answers to Marcone. It doesn’t make sense as to why he was so pushy go get Harry during ‘Changes’. I had thought he was answering to the Red Court but with them being taken out of the picture… now I wonder if he isn’t answerable to the Black Council.

Things I Did Not Expect:

1. Damn… when Ebenezer sent that spell through Harry and ‘killing’ I was so shocked even though I was pretty sure there was a twist coming. Mostly because of what it says about Ebenezer.

Ebenezer actions killed Harry.

Sure it was a fake body that brought no harm to the real Harry. But if Harry hadn’t thought ahead? If he hadn’t used his brain to ask Molly to create a fake? Eb would have killed his own grandson.

Sure it was an accident but it could so easy have resulted in a dead Harry. I was crying so hard I wondered if my eyeballs were loosening in their sockets. Argh.

2. Bonea…. Harry your naming skills are simply weird. I’m so glad that Susan named Maggie.

Although Bonnie is a pretty great nickname.

Thinks I Found Utterly Hilarious

1. The line about the best offense being a T-Rex? Gold. Pure gold.

2. When Harry figured out there are angels in the hilt of the Swords of the Cross and Butter’s immediate reaction of horror because he’d accidentally laundered the hilt, giving it a ride in a washing machine.

OMG! I had the instant image of a miniature angel screaming and growing dizzy when going through the spin cycle.

I know that makes no sense but that’s where my mind went, okay.

3. The conjuritis. Omg, it’s so gross with all the ectoplasm leaking from Harry’s nose but it’s sooooo funny. Also the way he kept getting the ‘aren’t you too old for this’ from Ebenezer and then Lara made me giggle even harder.

Then I thought: dude, it’s like chicken pox, something you got as a kid but if you never had it you get it when exposed later in life. So one of his kids has it. Probably Maggie too.

4. When Sanya pretended to have his hand lopped off. I straightened up and was so worried Sanya had lost a hand. Then when I realized he was pretending to freak out Butters and Harry I admit to laughing way too hard. Got me too.’

Also there’s no way that Sanya was actually defeated there. He’s younger and better trained then Butters, I don’t care how light (Heh) the new sword is. He definitely threw that fight to test his hunch.

5. Murphy’s inability to handle being flirted on with a red-headed warrior woman. Sooooo funny. I mean, Murphy could have said a number of things such as ‘I’m exclusive.’ or ‘I’m not interested in women.’ But she just floundered. Heh heh.

6. I continue to find it completely hilarious that Lara, a couple of centuries old vampire, seems to keep learning a lot of power moves from Marcone.

Such as: having trained fighters that are NOT food, well… mostly. Having those mines installed in the walls. And now hiring a Valkerie of her very own.

I keep thinking, yeah, there’s no way she’d win in a fight against Marcone because there’ s no way that Marcone has let slip all of his tricks.

Things I Really, Really Liked:

1. Marcone. Everything Marcone. *heart-eyes*

And then he proves why he’s so damned scary by standing up to the Titan. Then to the ghouls. Then after proving his bad-ass quotient if off the charts he gets everyone organized to fight.

Yeeessss… It proves to me that when it comes to protecting Chicago he is actually the best person after Harry. Hell, in some ways he’s better than Harry. Now, I’m not saying he’s a white knight or anything like that. Just that he has the intelligence, the ruthlessness, the will, the power and the men to provide the most protection to the city’s mortal denizens. At least when there’s a war raging with multiple enemies who will be attacking at various points.

And oh, I can’t wait to see how he’s going to get revenge for the death of his people. Omg, he’s going to kill the Formor so hard. *goes starry eyed thinking about more Marcone*

But why did he have to appear so late in the book?! *wails in a heart-rending fashion*

There better be a ton more Marcone in the next book! *makes desperate gimme gimme hands*

No, I don’t have a Marcone addiction… I can stop anytime I want to. *sneaks off to mainline some “Even Hand” straight into the brain*

2. The return of Goodman Grey! Oh, I hope he’s around a lot! I’ve really grown to like him.

<b>Things Which Blew My Mind or Were Just Freaking Awesome: </b>

1. Dad!Harry is actually the most amazing Harry. Forget the magic flinging and the fire storms… this is the best Harry.

Just the way he takes care of his kids…. *turns to mush like ectoplasm*

2. Murphy and Harry are finally together! Yay! Yay! Hip hip hooray!

Now, I’m a rather shameless Marcone/Dresden fic writer, but as I never ever expect this to be canon I’m content to write it as fanfic for my own sense of delight. However when it comes to canon I’m full on board with the Karrin and Harry relationship. Be it friendship or romantic, I think its great.

3. Marcone… that is all.

Random Speculation

1. I find myself wondering about Ebenezer’s rage against vampires. And my brain muttered this theory: Maybe Harry’s grandmother was killed by White Court vampires.

Whoa.

It would explain the vitrolic rage.

And if Lara was involved it would also explain her flash of shame.

We don’t know anything about Harry’s grandmother, not even her name. So… that’s a thought.

2. River Shoulders teaching Harry.

Oh man, oh man, I hope Harry learns shape-shifting.

And thinking about it I had to wonder if the animal-shifting had anything to do with knowing the animal in question which of course made me think…

Harry should learn to shape-shift into a T-Rex.

He already knows how one is put together and the mind of one. And he knows that it’s possible to add extra mass to a shift from the Nevernever in the form of ectoplasm… so

Harrysarous Rex, baby…. I may have to write a fic with this premise.

3. Oh, if it’s possible to make a ectoplasmic body can Harry learn to make one for Bonea? After all Maggie would probably really enjoy getting to play with her little sister that way. Even if Harry can’t do it all the time and it wouldn’t last longer than a day. That would be delightful.

4. Okay, not this is more head-canon than speculation but… considering how hard Harry has been made to be analogous to Merlin I can’t help but wonder if Marcone is suppose to be Arthur’s analogue. So wielding Amorrachius *coughs*Excalibur*coughs* would make sense.

…it’s not just my Marcone-love talking dammit.

Speaking of Merlin, I’m convinced that he’s behind this whole ‘starborn’ thing. Seriously, otherwise its way too convenient that a wizard with that power is born every 666 years. It smacks of a spell.

And if that’s the case it also feeds into my pet theory that the whole reason we have Outsides at the Gates is because Merlin was the schmuck who drew them to our reality in the first place. And everything surrounding the war with the Outsiders are his attempts to try to fix what he broke.

*lost in pondering thoughts*

Things I Have Questions About

1. Did Harry forget he has The Ways Map from his mother? I would have thought he would have figured out a way (heh) to get to the island somehow. He was on it for so long I thought for sure he’d spend time exploring it. Also we knew from ‘Skin Game’ that even tiny factors can change where the Way goes in the Nevernever. I doubt the ENTIRE island has Ways that lead to a bad place. Especially for Harry now that he’s the Warden.

2. Also why didn’t Harry get Lea to help him? After all unless she’s moved it since ‘Changes’ her garden is still on the other side of the sub-basement.

3. What did Lara use that first favor from Mab on? *eyes her suspiciously*

4. Where are the Za Lord’s Guard? *wondering about what been happening with Lacuna and Toot-toot*

5. If Harry gets kicked out of the White Council (good riddance, since they haven’t exactly been all that helpful lately) can he get enough signatures to be added as a member of the Accords in his own right? After all being Warden of Demonreach has got to mean a lot to the older members.

Then he wouldn’t be reliant on Mab’s protection.

I can’t help but hope this proves to be the case, especially if in ‘Battle Ground’ Harry ends up taking down that Titan. Because he needs as much protection and influence he can gather if he’s no longer White Council to protect himself, his people and his kids. Especially if he eventually gets rid of that Winter Knight mantle like I hope he does.

6. How in the hell (pardon the pun) did evil demon Sasquatch survive being turned to mush by Hade’s Ice Gate? Or the shades that were part of the security system that almost got Harry?

*frowns* The only reason I can think of would be the coin of Ursiel being the factor. I doubt a Fallen Angel is allowed to stick around in the Greek realm of the afterlife.

7. WHERE IS BOB?! Seriously, if Butters doesn’t give him back...

#peace talk spoilers #the dresden files #john marcone #full of speculation #can't wait for more #harry blackstone copperfield dresden #karrin murphy #spoilers #the dresden files spoilers

[ladyaudentium]

Confectionary Affection

Title: Confectionary Affection Fandom: Final Fantasy Crisis Core Rating: T Pairing: AngealxOC Characters: Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos, Original Characters Links: A03, FF.net

This took me longer than I would have liked, but I'm back with the next chapter! This one is jam packed with Angeal and Zack content! Be sure to grab a cold drink and a snack to enjoy!

Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed after the first chapter so far! If I missed responding to anyone's review, I'm sorry! I'll be going back over the reviews for the previous chapter, and if I missed you, I'll send you a response!

Enjoy!

It was nearly impossible to forget that Angeal and Zack had stopped by her bakery.

Kalika and Anri worked themselves to the bone and were only just barely able to keep up to the new level of demand. Sometimes it was so busy during the morning that there was simply not enough stock left to open in the evening; not even if Kalika remade everything again.

At first the business had been making a considerable income, and even now, it was till turning a higher profit than the past, but the costs of running the establishment had also increased. Sometimes there was simply not enough ingredients or prepared pastries left to open again in the evening. Usually this ended up with the business losing money.

Not only that but the increased workload had Kalika and Anri burning out more quickly than they could regain their strength. Kalika's usual late nights and early mornings preparing dough and bakery items were quickly turning into working around the clock. It wasn't unusual for her to doze off kneading a bread dough only to wake with it on the floor or ruined from over working it.

Anri was the same, for the first time since she was a new employee, she was making mistakes with drink and food orders. As a result, the customers were becoming upset and more than once a scene with raised voices had caused Kalika to intervene and forcibly remove the troublemakers.

It was getting to the point where an extra set of hands was a necessary addition; preferably a set with some muscle behind them. Kalika sighed heavily as she once again wiped the chalk board clean. Her handwriting was never great to begin with, but her hands were still sore and shaky from the kneading she had just finished.

The sun was beginning to set, and the bakery had been closed all day. Kalika had spent all night and day preparing every bit of dough, batter, and meringue for the no doubt absolutely insane day tomorrow. If her usual delivery of supplies was on time, she would be able to open again the day after, but if not… well she would come up with something. She always did.

Slapping her cheek, she forced herself to stay awake for just a little while longer, she just needed to finish this task and then she was finished—

*KNOCK KNOCK* "Kalika?" a voice called from outside.

The young woman jumped at the sudden noise which caused a series of events to follow:

First, her precariously placed step ladder slipped off the edge of the counter, causing her to scream in fear and drop all her supplies creating a racket.

Second, the door burst open just as she desperately tried to remain balanced, her hands reaching out for anything that would keep her from the inevitable.

Third, she fell.

The young woman braced for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but instead was met with a warm embrace. Black hair and blue eyes entered her vision and it was with a sudden sinking pit in her stomach that she knew who it was.

Angeal Hewley.

"You should be more careful." He intoned lowly, his chest vibrating with his voice, "We need to stop meeting like this."

Kalika stared up into his bright blue eyes as her head rested on his chest. "I don't know, I think it's kind of nice?" the words escaped her mouth before she could think twice and immediately could feel her face begin to heat up in a deep, mortified blush.

Angeal blinked once in disbelief as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Better be careful, Angeal or pretty soon she's going to be falling for you!" Zack called excitedly, breaking the silence.

The black-haired man, sighed deeply and screwed his eyes shut, clearly stressed, "Zack. What have I said to you about appropriate behavior and comments?" he prompted as the burly SOLDIER made a move to stand, his steady grip assisting Kalika to stand along with him.

There was a heavy sigh from the opposite side of the corner while the younger boy replied monotonously, "You said that I need to think before speaking and that words have impact. I can't take back anything once it's been said, sometimes the best choice is to remain silent." the energetic boy leaned back over a bar stool and with both hands over his face, "I can't help it though, you two make it so easy!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands to the ceiling.

"You need to learn self-restraint if you intend to be an honorable member of SOLDIER in the future." Angeal scolded and judging from the young boy's reaction, this seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of them. Somehow, that did not come as a surprise to the young woman.

"I know, I'm doing my best, Angeal! Sometimes it just bursts out before I can stop it!" Zack turned to Kalika, "By the way, we're here to return this! The scones were delicious, thanks!" he held out the same container that Anri had given them upon their departure from their last visit.

The blue haired girl blinked once in surprise as she accepted the box; a reusable one that was not their typical to-go boxes. That sly girl, she had planned for this too. "Thanks, I'm glad you liked them." she looked up at Angeal, "I'm sorry for the trouble of making you come back here to return it. It would have been fine if you just disposed of the container instead." she also took the opportunity to notice that it had been washed as well. How… odd. Somehow, she just could not picture prominent members of SOLDIER doing something as ordinary as washing dishes.

The image of Angeal in a pink, frilly apron suddenly was at the forethought of her brain and she blushed deeply once again.

"It would be wasteful to merely dispose of an easily reusable box such as this." Angeal stated plainly. His eyebrows lowered with concern as he pulled a glove from his hand and gently placed his palm on her forehead, "You're quite red, are you feeling alright? Have you eaten anything today?"

"I - I think so? I've been busy today and haven't had a chance to sit down for long." Kalika blurted as she froze in place. Should she move away from his hand? Or would that be rude? Why was he being so friendly? Was he always this caring to strangers? Especially a stranger that just hit on him a minute ago. The blush returned full force to her face with that traitorous thought.

Before she could panic any further, he pulled his hand away and once again donned his glove. The young woman breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Busy? But you're closed!" Zack spoke up, and cocked his head to the side, "Wait, why are you closed? Shouldn't this place be hopping right now?"

Both sets of bright blue eyes settled on her with varying inquisitiveness. Zack's was honest confusion but Angeal's was less readable. His mouth was set in a straight line across his strong jaw while his eyes held a spark of suspicion that set a cold sweat down Kalika's spine.

Oh boy, how could she explain this without outright blaming them for the necessary closure and the empty ingredient cabinet?

"I… well… you see, ever since your last visit, business has been crazy. Lately I can't keep to the hours we normally hosted. Sometimes I'm up all night preparing!" Her words were spoken with a joyous tone, but from the lack of change in both of their expressions, she was not convincing them.

Angeal opened his mouth to respond, the frown of concern deep on his brow, but was interrupted by a fourth, unfamiliar voice, "Oh my Gaia, you're Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER! You're back! I can't believe it, I gotta tell everyone!"

Kalika felt the blood leave her face as her attention immediately snapped to the tall, blonde woman currently standing in the open doorway attempting to snap a picture of the two men.

"No, pictures without permission and we're closed, please leave!" She ordered, pushing past Angeal to confront the woman directly.

"What? But it's the middle of your posted hours and your door is open! You can't throw me out, do you know who I am?"

"Nope, and I'm sorry you've forgotten. Now, please get out, we are closed, and you are trespassing."

The woman's brown eyes flashed with indignation, "Listen, I don't know how you get off talking to customers like that, but—"

"No buts! I asked you to leave. I won't ask again." Crimson eyes sparked with anger as she stared the other woman down.

Red lips opened to argue further, but she was cut off by a deep, commanding voice "You have been asked to leave, you should comply with that request."

A quick, furtive glance backwards revealed Angeal standing straight, his burly arms crossed over his chest and a dark glare adorning his features. A shudder wormed its way down Kalika's spine. Scary, was the only thing she could think.

There was a beat of silence between the three of them. The woman suddenly looked appropriately ashamed of her behavior and without another word scuttled away.

The second the woman was outside, Kalika grabbed the door and threw it shut behind her. Much to her surprise, it bounced back open and that's when she noticed the lock was completely broken. Around the spot where the deadbolt should have been was a hole in the door frame and splinters scattered along the floor.

She shut it again, it bounced backwards.

She applied a little more force, it bounced backwards again.

Frustration and resentment burning within her, she tried again; it bounced backwards.

With all her strength, she slammed the door shut and before it could bounce back, shoved a chair underneath the similarly broken and limp door handle.

Defeated, she braced her hands against the door and let her head hang between them.

"It would probably be a good idea for you both to use the back door to leave. You'll attract less attention that way… plus, it seems this one is broken now." Kalika murmured quietly, not daring to look up in fear that they would see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Kali…? Is everything… okay?" Zack's genuinely concerned voice broke the silence.

A lump caught in her throat and without looking at either of them she walked to the nearest table and sat down on one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands. She could not cry, not here, not with Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER and Zack Fair here to witness it. One shuddering breath later gave her the confidence to speak.

"Yeah, I'll be fine… somehow, I always am."

A shadow fell over her, "Is there anything we can do to help?" Zack asked.

"No, but thanks." Kalika waved him off but much to her surprise, he caught her hand between two gloved ones of his own. Surprised, she looked up into an uncharacteristically serious expression on the young boy's face.

"I swear on my honor as a SOLDIER I will do whatever it takes to help you, Kali. You're one of us now, right Angeal?"

"Don't swear on your honor lightly, Zack."

"I mean it! I do!"

Angeal nodded, seemingly accepting his young protégé's resolve. "How long has your door been broken like this?" the First Class inquired.

Kalika sniffed as delicately as she could as she attempted to take her hand back from Zack, but it was held tight. "It was fine earlier today; it was only just now that something seemed to be wrong. There was a hole where the deadbolt was and splinters from the door frame were scattered along the floor…" the young woman snapped her jaw shut when she realized the implications of her words.

Angeal's face darkened once again and his eyebrows angled inwards at a dangerous angle as he stared his young protégé down. There was a heavy beat of silence as Zack seemed to realize what was going on, "Oh… well… you know… SOLDIER strength, am I right?"

"No! It's fine really!" Kalika jumped up and did her best to placate the visibly upset SOLDIER, "It was old and in need of replacement anyways, I can probably write the replacement off as a business expense. I'm sure Zack didn't mean it."

Angeal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "His intentions aren't the issue. SOLDIERs have enhanced senses and abilities. If Zack does not learn how to control these properly, he could end up hurting himself or worse, others." He looked up, "I apologize for the door, Zack you're going to suspend a fifty-pound weight in a squat today to make up for your lack of control this evening."

Zack groaned and Kalika winced sympathetically, "I don't think that's necessary, is it? Maybe since you're really strong you could help me with something, and we call it even?" she suggested. "I still need to finish rewriting that menu sign. We're opening with a new item tomorrow."

Angeal looked over his shoulder to see the unfinished chalkboard, "Is that what you were doing when you fell?"

An embarrassed blush crept over her face once again, "Yes, it's too high for me to reach on my own. So, I usually have to get creative… with a step ladder… on the counter."

"That sounds very dangerous." The raven-haired man lowered his eyebrows in concern and disapproval.

"Maybe you can help Angeal! Just lift her up and she'd be able to reach no problem!" an excited Zack exclaimed and, in his enthusiasm, squeezed her hand that was still held captive.

The young woman sputtered, "I- that's not what I meant, but maybe if one of you could just hold the ladder steady? I usually have Anri to help me, but I gave her the day off today."

Angeal turned and with one hand lifted the step ladder she had been using, revealing one of the legs to be broken off, "For the sake of your safety, I would advise against using this again."

"Oh… I see…" the young woman murmured as she worried her bottom lip, how was she going to get up there now?

Zack was practically vibrating with excitement from beside her. A quick glance to him revealed that he was glancing quickly between the two of them biting his lip in anticipation. He was planning something, if only the blue-haired woman could figure out what it was…

"To make amends for the broken door, I would be willing to lift you as Zack suggested." Angeal offered as he moved the broken ladder out of the way.

"I mean, are you sure? I don't want to be a burden. Are you sure I won't be too heavy?"

The burly man grinned and chuckled deeply. The genuine mirth revealed pearly white teeth and the genuine good-ness that radiated from him was unlike anyone she had ever met before. "I'm sure."

Kalika blushed for what seemed like the tenth time in under an hour, "I – Well… if you're sure, I guess. I need to get the chalk." Walking forwards, Zack finally let go of her hand and Angeal stepped out of the way to let her pass behind the bar. Grabbing the chalk from the ground and the eraser cloth, she turned back to the First-Class SOLDIER, "Okay, I'm ready, how would you like to do this?"

Angeal stepped forward and for the first time she noticed how tall he was. She had never felt so small compared to someone in her life, he dwarfed her in every sense. She was eye level with the middle of his chest, and he was easily twice as wide as her. Another blush adorned her cheeks as he knelt to one knee, "Sit on my shoulder and I will take hold of your legs."

Nodding, she turned around and as instructed, gingerly sat on his shoulder, doing her best to put as little weight on him as possible. Two arms wrapped around her knees, locking them in place and the next thing she knew, he was lifting her into the air.

Sucking in a breath she flailed, unbalanced, for one moment before a hand on her thigh steadied her. Angeal Hewley, First Class SOLDIER of Shinra was touching her leg. She tried not to think about how her butt was on his shoulder and instead focused on finishing the sign as quickly as possible. Her hands and shoulders cramped but she did her best to legibly scrawl the newest addition to her menu.

"Dumbapple tart?" Zack exclaimed, "Angeal, didn't you grow up in Banora?! That's so cool!"

"Is that true?" Kalika inquired, looking down to meet the bright blue eyes of Angeal.

"It is, both Genesis and I grew up there. His parents had the best Banora White tree, every summer we would take as many apples as we could and sit in the branches eating them." A small, nostalgic smile pulled up the corners of his mouth.

"That changes everything then, let me down, I'm all finished now."

With one swift movement, the hands disappeared from her person and for a brief moment, she hung suspended in the air before being gently lowered to the ground. The black-haired SOLDIER stared down at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Setting the chalk down she made to pass him, "Have a seat. I'll be right back," and disappeared into the kitchen.

The fridge opened with a hiss, a quick scan through the contents revealed her prize. Pulling two small tarts from their tray, Kalika put them on a plate and made her way back to the front. The fridge closed with a satisfying click behind her.

"Here, to thank you for helping me with the sign, please be the first to try a tart!" placing the plate on the bar counter, she waited excitedly for them to each take one. "They're Banora White apple tarts with some decorative white chocolate to counter the sourness and some edible gold sparkles for presentation."

Zack immediately grabbed one and in one bite put the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes lit up as he playfully slapped his mentor's shoulder, "D'ese are r'lly gud An'eal! You shou'd taste ish!" (translation: These are really good, Angeal! You should taste this!)

Angeal sighed in resignation as he took a tart, "Thank you, this wasn't necessary as it is us who are in your debt, not the opposite way around."

Kalika smiled brightly, "It's fine, really! Plus, I hope that I can live up to your memories of the times stealing and eating the apples."

With a small smile, he took a bite and instantly his blue eyes lit up with surprise, his eyebrows once again disappearing into his hairline. Swallowing, he turned back to the blue haired woman, "You have a true gift for baking."

Flushing for the umpteenth time that day, Kalika continued to smile, "I'm glad you like them. I'll package up one for Commander Rhapsodos as well and you can give one to him too!"

"How much do we owe you for the tarts?" Angeal asked as she pushed through the door to the kitchen.

"Nothing! They're thanks for helping me!" she called back as she began to package up the third tart and then returned to the front with it. Angeal stared her down, his mouth a straight line and his azure gaze steeled with his resolve.

"Please, it would be dishonorable for us to accept these gifts a second time. Especially when your door breaking was our fault in the first place."

Stumped, she could only stare. Never had anyone been so insistent on paying for a gift. "Don't be silly, these are gifts, do you insist for payment when you give a gift to someone?" she held out the tart wrapped in a white box with Confectionary Affection stamped on the sides. "Here's Commander Rhapsodos's tart, try not to squish it if you can, and now it's getting late. I imagine you need to get back to Shinra, since the front door's broken and likely a crowd of fans outside waiting for you to exit, follow me to the back door."

With that, she turned on her heel and pushed open the swinging door and motioned for them to follow her. Zack hopped up immediately, but Angeal took a moment to gather himself and follow. Passing through the kitchen and a small hallway with a set of stairs leading to the second floor, they came to the back door. Pushing it open revealed the dirt yard and receiving area for her shipments of ingredients.

"Thanks again for the treats, Kali. They were delicious as always!" Zack called as he jumped down the short flight of stairs, an arm extended in a cheery wave.

"Thank you for your hospitality. You honor us with your generosity. Genesis will enjoy this pastry, I am certain." Angeal stated solemnly, his eyes shining with the depth of his gratitude.

"Any time, come by again soon. Preferably without causing any trouble this time. Using the back door might not be such a bad idea to avoid any drama like with that woman earlier." She pointed to a black rectangle with a button in the middle, "Next time you're by, just ring this doorbell and I'll let you in."

Zack grinned devilishly and took a breath to make a comment, but before he could utter a sound, Angeal put a hand over the young boy's mouth to silence him. "Thank you Kalika, we will not forget your kindness today."

The blue -haired baker could only manage a small wave as they turned to walk away. Zack continued to wave enthusiastically until they were out of sight behind the fence. Closing the door, her knees felt weak. The sound of her name on Angeal's lips created a feeling in her like she'd never experienced before. Sliding to the ground she replayed the memory in her mind until she was sure that it would be with her forever.

She had offered for them to come back again, but it was such wishful thinking she did not dare hope too much. Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern, but three times was a dream and nothing more.

But oh, how she loved to dream.

Oh they'll be back, but in the meantime, there's other shenanigans that need to happen first >:3c

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you'd like! I always enjoy hearing your thoughts!

#angeal hewley #zack fair #original character #me and my dummy thicc angeal propaganda #fic #confectionary affection #writing stuff #my writing

[amerasdreams]

I have been listening to True Spies podcast on Spotify. It’s apparently connected to a thing called Spyscape, which has a museum/experience thing in New York. They also have an online test for your personality and intelligence.... well those intelligence tests all of course have to do with math. and they are TIMED. somehow I got thru guessing most of them.... didn’t score 0 but didn’t score great. 

so guess what I scored on intelligence!  and personality scores mean I’m more prone to health problems and being unhappy.... :( 

(here I woke up thinking I can be uniquely me, I don’t want to be like anyone else anyway, I can embrace that... but how can I when what I am is this pathetic)

I shouldn’t have done this, I know what these tests do, make me discouraged and hate myself more. they even said I’m not imaginative and creative-- things I value most besides intelligence (and intuition/empathy...) 

they did say the “spy role” I was most suited for, which is what I’m most interested in, intelligence analyst. But in the more “practical” side, for jobs, it mentioned medical things, technical things, which I wouldn’t be good at and don’t like, business marketing-- working for a business I don’t care about, a job with no meaning....  it even had mathematician! when I’m obviously not good at math. the only jobs I might be interested in are psychologist/criminologist... idk.... to late for me to get any career anyway, let alone somehow what I really want

they did a risk assessment, where you blow up the balloon before it pops to get “money” - yesterday I started it and panicked when the balloon popped the first time and closed the window. then when I was walking the dogs it occured to me it was a test lol and I would just have to keep risking popping the balloon... so today I saw it as more of a game and not the ‘scary balloon popping oh no I lost money!” -not even real money. idk about fun.... all these things were stressful esp the intelligence test. 

today I started the test, thinking it might help me, get insight into what I can do, instead, it discouraged me, I’m what I thought, mediocre and not suited for much, they only gave a “role” to me because they had to give me something. It said the intelligence analyst is inquisitive--when it just said I wasn’t -  idk how this even fits with the test bc analytical? that wasn’t one of the dimensions and doesn’t seem like I scored high on implied analytical powers, same with determined-- 

how can i live with myself being like this, having no role and no future according to any dimension that really counts. don’t want to be plodding away at menial tasks when I want to do something Imaginative, Creative, Intellectual-- ha can’t even do that

oh I’m proving them right, easily stressed and sensitive and reactive -- 

I’m not including the risk assessment bc I don’t think it’s accurate-- I’m really very risk averse in all cases... oh we know that already so. 

~

results (bold/parentheses is mine)

MENTAL HORSEPOWER

Unlike Alan Turing would, you scored moderately low {yay!:(} on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that, on the whole, you struggle with complex mathematical and analytical problems. {so how can I be an analyst?} That said, you can usually spot patterns and find links in data – as long as the information you have been given isn’t too abstract. (I like big picture things.... abstract things... apparently I’m not good at it)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with a moderately low Mental Horsepower score, you are more likely to ‘go with your gut’ when making decisions rather than to apply logic and reason (that’s true.... logic is mystifying. fits with being INFP-- logic is my weakest point). It is unlikely that you will sit down and win a game of chess, and you probably rely on your satnav rather than read a map yourself. (yep.... chess is too much strategy... I can’t see ahead like that .. hm how could I be an analyst)

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are not a very conceptual thinker, you are better in roles where you can do things ‘automatically’ rather than applying any abstract reasoning skills. You are not bad at visual-spatial or mathematical tests though, and with training and practice, your skills will definitely improve.

THE SCIENCE

Mental Horsepower relates to our general cognitive ability and our capacity to think about, reason with, and understand abstract concepts. It particularly links to analytical and mathematical skills, but also covers memory, comprehension, language, learning capacity and judgement. These are hugely significant skills for success at work and in everyday life.

Psychologists have developed all kinds of tests to measure cognitive ability. Some of these involve predicting outcomes from patterns in data (also known as inductive reasoning), while others focus on mentally flipping and rotating images. We use both of these approaches in our Mental Horsepower tests at SPYSCAPE.

Recent neuroimaging research shows that intelligence is linked to brain patterns, and that these patterns are unique to each of us (meaning you can’t change them :(  )– much like our fingerprints. In one study, these brain ‘fingerprints’ were used to successfully predict people’s scores in IQ tests.

While IQ tests are probably the most common method for determining cognitive ability, there is some debate over whether they provide a complete picture. For example, theories suggest that there are many different types of intelligence which are not accounted for in these tests. Still, it is generally accepted that people who score highly on tests of cognitive ability are on the whole better at completing intelligence-related (so that career’s out... if it was ever in lol) tasks in the real world.

~

COMPOSURE

Unlike Jason Bourne, you scored extremely low (low on everything! what a wonderful person!) on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that you are far more vulnerable to stressors than most people (I knew that). You are likely to have a very strong emotional reaction to negative events and your brain becomes highly active when you see something you perceive as unpleasant (like this test!). Although this means you find it hard to relax, it also means you are really tuned in to your surroundings ( and what’s the upside of that? nice consolation prize....)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with extremely low levels of composure, you are highly likely to experience anxiety and burnout. (with things that aren’t really stressful to anyone else. just stepping outside. just being inside-- doing thigns like this.. doing most things actually-- help how can i live) You can be far too critical of yourself (well how do i stop? if this is how I am like), especially when you are stressed (which is almost all the time), and this can make it tricky for you to overcome problems (which is never, which is why I’m still living w my parents). You also dwell on the past far more than people with high composure.

On the positive side, you are responsive to your environment, which means you are more likely to anticipate negative outcomes and find ways to avoid them (like almost everything). You are also sensitive and caring, and your observant nature means you look out for yourself and the people close to you. (what’s the point of that when you can’t do anything, or get to know new people)

IN YOUR WORK

It is unlikely your colleagues will turn to you when there is an emergency or crisis at work. This is because you struggle to keep your emotions in check, and challenging situations can get the better of you. When this happens, you are not great at maintaining focus or making tough decisions.

THE SCIENCE

Composure relates to how our brains respond to stress. In tense situations, your brain activates an area called the hypothalamus, which releases adrenalin and cortisol – also known as stress hormones.

A bit of stress now and then is important for survival, because it alerts us to the dangers around us. Small amounts can be useful, but too much over a long period of time is bad for our health (oh goody). Studies show that the adrenal cortex, the part of the brain that releases stress hormones, is also linked to the healthy function of our immune system – and people who are more prone to stress are also more likely to get sick.

There is also a connection between composure and working (short-term) memory. Composed people perform better on tasks where they need to recall and use relevant information while they’re doing something else – for example remembering the steps of a recipe when cooking a meal.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN COMPOSURE ARE

LAID-BACK

RELAXED

COOL

FOCUSED

POISED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN COMPOSURE ARE

EMOTIONAL

SENSITIVE

PERCEPTIVE

RESPONSIVE

VIGILANT

~

Contentiousness

Unlike diligent Mission: Impossible hero Isla Faust, you scored moderately low on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that unlike Isla, you find it difficult to keep focused on long-term goals {Idk about this. goals are all i focus on.... well. I think about them often but Idk how to create the steps to get there and so things fizzle out and I get-- discouraged what else is new). You get distracted or bored quite quickly and are often drawn to new ideas and projects instead of finishing what you are currently doing (well.... hm. I finish novels...). You understand what is important in life, but you sometimes skip the details. (I’m not a detail person... I can be but they often seem irrelevant)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Because you prefer not to a follow a schedule, hobbies that require regular training are not for you. In fact, your interests change quite regularly, and you find long-term commitment a challenge whatever the activity. Friends and family know that if they want you to do something, they need to encourage you to get organized. When they press you, however, you do things pretty well.

IN YOUR WORK

You take a relatively flexible approach to work. As such, you get distracted easily and do not always complete the task in hand. Because of your tendency to do this, you are likely to change jobs – and perhaps even career – fairly regularly (I want variety... Idk, this sort of fits, sort of doesn’t).

THE SCIENCE

Conscientiousness shapes how likely you are to follow rules, regulate your own behavior and get yourself organized. The more conscientious you are, the more motivated by goals and tasks you are likely to be.

According to what psychologists call the ‘Big-5’ model, conscientiousness is a core dimension of personality – and one of the five key traits that drive human behavior. Whether you are high or low in conscientiousness can help predict your success in social, academic and professional situations.

If you have high levels of conscientiousness, you are probably more productive and better at adapting to new situations (that’s true, I’m not) that come your way. However, this does not mean that being conscientious is always a good thing, because research also shows that being too conscientious can lead to overthinking. (I do that too...)

Some studies suggest that people who are more conscientious are healthier – and they might even live longer. This might be because conscientious people are more likely to exercise regularly, eat healthily, and avoid smoking or drinking too much alcohol.

It’s hard to say where conscientiousness comes from. One study found a link with areas of the brain relating to attention and cognitive control. There is also evidence to suggest that genes play their part. It’s likely that social factors such as your upbringing influence how conscientious you are, too.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

HIGH-ACHIEVING

ACCOUNTABLE

THOROUGH

DRIVEN

SELF-DISCIPLINED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

IMPULSIVE

FLEXIBLE

EASY-GOING

SPONTANEOUS

ADAPTABLE

(I think I’m sort of this, sort of not because I’m borderline INFP -- P is flexible, impulsive while J is more structured-- I’m slightly more Perceiving. goes to show Myers-Briggs is pretty good at describing personality accurately....)

~

INQUISITIVENESS

Unlike Carrie Mathison in Homeland, you scored moderately low on this attribute. Your score was driven by your performance in the personality tests, and it suggests that you are pretty cautious about new ideas, beliefs, cultures and theories.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people who scored moderately low on this attribute, you are not so willing to take on board other people’s views (that’s true). You will consider what people have to say, but you are likely to stick with your own opinion. You feel more comfortable in familiar situations and surroundings (well, yes...), and you do not really feel the need to explore new places (I kind of do, though... I want to but I often... don’t. because it’s too hard).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you aren’t motivated to learn or acquire new skills (Idk about this... depends on if it’s something I’m interested in. I’m learning like 15 languages on Duolingo...), you are less likely to seek out new opportunities at work. And the longer you stay in a job, the worse your motivation is likely to get. In general, you tend to perform better when you start a new position, although you will carry this out using the same approach you always have, rather than approach it in a new way. You like real-world, practical work that has straightforward solutions.

THE SCIENCE

Inquisitiveness is an important trait for discovering new things and building a better understanding of people and of the world around us. Psychologists have developed tools for assessing and measuring how inquisitive a person is.

These are based on extensive research into personality and are designed to evaluate five facets related to inquisitiveness: (i) intellectual curiosity; (ii) aesthetic sensitivity; (iii) active imagination; (iv) attentiveness to inner feelings and; (v) preference for variety.

Furthermore, personality researchers have identified two types of inquisitiveness; ‘epistemic’, which refers to information seeking ( I think I’m more information seeking?) behaviour and ‘perceptual’, which refers to experience seeking.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

CURIOUS

OPEN-MINDED

IMAGINATIVE AND INVENTIVE

CREATIVE

ADAPTIVE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

PRACTICAL

CONSISTENT

TRADITIONAL

HABITUAL

PRAGMATIC

~

SOCIABILITY

A bit like Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, you scored extremely low (yay. well I knew this... and from answering the questions... )on this attribute, which suggests that you prefer to spend time alone and keep yourself to yourself. You avoid parties, meet-ups and other noisy gatherings because you find them overwhelming (wayyyy). If you really have to socialize, you need plenty of quiet time afterwards to help you rest and recharge.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like others with an extremely low sociability score, you don’t like being the center of attention and often struggle to start conversations. You think a lot before speaking and regularly find it hard to express your thoughts and ideas. Because of this, you often let others do the talking, and you don’t take part in small talk either. This behavior means you might come across as socially reactive, and people may think you only talk to them when you feel you really have to (as in, extremely negative, and I shouldn’t exist. although... i do talk to them if I have to.... haha I do take part in small talk because I think I have to. or people will think I’m rude. but I don’t like it. I’m sensitive to how I’m perceived and don’t want to be seen as too antisocial, but I talk to others out of fear not of want... yikes. no wonder no one wants to be around me. well I don't want to be around them. well - I want to be around people I know well. for limited amounts of time... need less to recharge from people I know than strangers. I want to be with them, I don’t want to be with strangers-- it’s only stress and not fun at all. but how do i get past the stranger part to the friend part if I don’t like being with strangers and it’s all stressful adn overwhelming? How do i participate in society, have people to talk to, have any sort of success??? - shouldn't exist.).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are more comfortable working independently (please. HOW???? besides working for myself... haha can’t work for anyone else bc can’t get past the interview, these ^ traits are obvious and not something any employer in their right mind wants), you will be more productive – and much happier – managing your own workload, tackling problems alone, and avoiding company brainstorms and powwows.

THE SCIENCE

How sociable you are can be linked to your levels of happiness, positivity, and wellbeing. In fact, sociability relates to a variety of positive outcomes in life, including how successful you are at work, how well you cope with challenging situations, and even how physically and mentally healthy you are. (yay. I’m doomed. I might as well kill myself now)

People who are highly sociable are more positive emotionally (case in point!) than those who are less sociable. In one brain imaging study, people with a high sociability score had higher levels of brain activity when they saw images of happy faces and other positive emotions.

The same part of the brain that processes emotions also helps interpret information from social contexts, which means we can judge a social situation and then respond appropriately (social situations, like math problems and logic, are mystifying to me. yay the things that are highest linked to success--).

There is some evidence to suggest that highly sociable people might be better at detecting and decoding the meaning of social cues –  including how they analyze and read people’s faces (oh, I know that. I have a hard time judging people’s faces, in fact I often think they are mad at me or judging me by their faces when they probably aren’t. I even have trouble finding out what emotions go with what emoji! besides the basics. i mean why, how are there so many emojis....). This means they are likely to find social interaction easier to deal with than others (lol yes. it’s . not easy. why. do i have to be born like this. always been. hell..).

There is also research to suggest that highly sociable people have more connections between regions of the brain that involve visual stimulus and regions that process social and emotional stimuli. (brains are better, we get it)

Sociability might also be associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, which is linked to reward-seeking behavior. It is thought that people who are highly sociable may have an enhanced response to dopamine in the brain, which makes them pursue rewards such as attention, status, power or pleasure. This would explain why, when they get these things, they feel happier or more satisfied.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN SOCIABILITY ARE

TALKATIVE

FRIENDLY

ENTHUSIASTIC

ENERGETIC

EXCITABLE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN SOCIABILITY ARE

QUIET

RESERVED

INTROSPECTIVE

PRIVATE

SHY

^ ALLL negative attributes, I need to just kill myself now, no future. 

#spies #personality test #spychology #help #job #life #negative #discouraged #again #pretty much everything discourages me #except when i'm distracted #insurmountable life #why #how can i possible live

[nosunsetsjustsilence]

The Manics and Gender Identity, Part 1

There is a lot to unpack in Nicky and Richey’s early lyrics pertaining to gender, particularly in terms of identifying with women. Richey approaches the subject — as he is wont to do — with regard to the exploitation and degradation of the female image, while Nicky’s attitude is more inquisitive and casual. Both use lyrics to express their own personal “What if?”

Make no mistake: I’m not claiming that either Nicky or Richey is/was non-cis or trans or anything other than curious. But it’s clear from their personal lyric struggles and hard-won lifestyle choices that this was a different time they were living in. In the 1990s, gender identity was not a topic with any kind of mainstream recognition, at least beyond those who wanted a “sex change” or girls who were considered “one of the boys”. I think it’s fascinating, at least from my perspective, to go back and examine the themes of gender dysphoria, identity, and frustration in lyrics written before any of it was part of popular conversation, and in a way that emphasized the then absolute cultural disconnect between desire and society.

Also, it’s important to note that both Nicky and Richey have presented gender in ways that don’t have anything to do with lyrics. Nicky is comfortable in traditionally female clothing and wears dresses on and off stage; both band members wore makeup and feathers on a regular basis. I’ve tried to write about gender in terms of lyrics only, but at times I do take examples from visual media.

Finally, keep in mind that yours truly is non-binary, and the discussion will hopefully not reek of a cis person watching queer men from behind bars in a zoo.

Special thanks to @sinisterrouge for vetting this before I posted <3

Little Baby Nothing

Although Richey seemed to find comfort in claiming that his lyrics were about the larger world — in the case of Little Baby Nothing, feminism and the way women are perceived in media — a closer look usually reveals a personal stake. When I discussed the meaning of this song previously, I emphasized that the “Little baby nothing” in question is clearly Richey himself, writing in the first person and deconstructing his own image to align with a kind of mindless female groupie used for sex.

My mind is dead, everybody loves me Wants a slice of me Hopelessly passive and compatible Need to belong, oh the roads are scary Hold me in your arms I wanna be your only possession

Richey often refers to himself as a “slut” and a “prostitute” and uses self-referential porn star imagery in his lyrics (So Dead: “You need a fix I’m your prostitute”, Yes: “there’s no lust in this coma even for a fifty”), aligning the industries of pornography and music performance in very vivid ways most often pertaining to exploitation. Appropriately, singing pivotal stanzas on this track is none other than Traci Lords, arguably most famous (especially in the early 90s) for an underage porn scandal.  

What’s more, in the lyrics booklet for Generation Terrorists, there is a quotation or excerpt included for each song. The following corresponds to Little Baby Nothing:

“The male chromosome is an incomplete female chromosome. In other words the male is a walking abortion; aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.” -Valerie Solanos.

Ninety percent of what the Manics said and did in their early years was intended to be shocking and/or ironic. Of course they were trying to incite anger and riots, the questioning of institutions, and a teardown of normalcy. But the fact that Richey later used part of this radical statement as the title to one of his songs (“Of Walking Abortion”, natch) proves that he took it somewhat seriously, even if only in the most simple sense — that part of him resented his own maleness.

Life Becoming a Landslide

This is another song I’ve previously discussed, mostly in the arena of Nicky and Richey individualizing their distinctive voices into lines that can clearly be attributed to one or the other. In a song about nature vs nurture and the plastic confines of greater humanity cracking down on who or what someone is really supposed to be, we have:

Life becoming a landslide Ice freezing nature dead Life becoming a landslide I don’t wanna be a man

As far as writing style goes, Nicky was always fairly straightforward. Richey loves to convolute his message with proper nouns and alternating verb cases and a lack of a subject just to throw  people off, but here’s Nicky, my boy, just saying, “Dude. Being a man sucks. I don’t like this.”

He could mean that being human in general sucks. But, since his attitude towards women leads me to believe he would not abbreviate humanity in this way, and given his and Richey’s track record with gender and Nicky’s well-documented gender presentation, I think it’s clear the lyric means that he doesn’t want to be male. Because he feels it doesn’t suit him, for whatever reason. And that nature failed by making him a man instead of a woman.

Yes

‘Yes’ is an incredible song. Its major-chord melody juxtaposed against Richey’s raw portrait of degradation is truly a thing to behold. The theme? Being used, prostitution both literal and metaphorical (“For sale? dumb cunt’s same dumb questions”), exploitation in the name of capitalism (“In these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything”), and reaching the lowest possible point of existence (“Purgatory’s circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes”). But the chorus — the chorus boasts one of the rawest images of sexual violence the band has ever used:

He’s a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want

Wow. Okay. Where to begin? The implication here is that gender, along with everything else, is mutable if you have enough money and power to abuse people. However, it appears the change would be made not to entertain others, but to appeal to a specific person, sexually (“fuck him”). The “you” in question is clearly attracted to women, so the narrator offering to mutilate himself to please them can be seen as a last-ditch act of desperation. (“It feels like this massive defeat,” said a friend. “You can make him a woman to pleasure someone, but what’s left to change after that?”)

Richey wrote most of the song; “Rita”, obviously, is the name used for an alternative female identity. But who would Rita be? Richey seems to be wondering. Would she still be me? And would the change even be worth the affections of whomever he’s speaking to? If the means are so drastic (and difficult to picture without experiencing secondhand pain), that answer would usually be “no”. But the song is called “Yes”. I would say yes to anything at this point, Richey is saying, even the most extreme sexual violence imaginable, if that’s what you wanted.

4st 7lb

This is an extreme example of Richey using world issues to examine his own nature. Although anorexic himself, Richey writes “4st 7lb” from the point of view of an obsessive young girl admiring thin models. There could be multiple reasons for this, not the least of which is that when a person fails to fit the “classic” case of an eating disorder, they are often ignored. So, Richey says, you need me to be a teenage girl? I can do that. 

(Note that in 1994, when this song was written, any eating disorder demographic outside the “white girl who loves fashion too much” model did not exist by medical standards and was usually subject to ridicule.)

Karen says I’ve reached my target weight Kate and Emma and Kristin know it’s fake Problem is diet’s not a big enough word I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

Embodying the anorexic female stereotype allows Richey to criticize both the world and himself; by creating a parody of a young girl with an eating disorder, he creates commentary on how ridiculous and counter-intuitive her thought process actually is. The song is brutal and often focuses on nudity and sexual imagery, as it has been suggested in studies that eating disorders occur in those who are trying to annihilate their own puberty. Though Richey was well into his 20s when he wrote this, he often expressed a loathing of aging and the entire concept of adulthood.

Stomach collapsed at five Lift up my skirt my sex is gone Naked and lovely and 5 stone 2 May I bud and never flower My vision’s getting blurred But I can see my ribs and I feel fine My hands are trembling stalks And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Ultimately, “4st 7lb” hits hard as both an experiment in identity and a vicious satire of the rich white girl eating disorder cliché. Although the lyrics do not express a desire to become female, they do indicate that Richey feels everything might be easier and fit more neatly into a box if he were a girl.

[Coming in Part 2: The Girl Who Wanted to be God, Tsunami, Born a Girl, and Pretention/Repulsion.]

#gender identity #gender fuckery #manic street preachers #manics #nicky wire #richey james #richey edwards #lyrics #yes #little baby nothing #generation terroris #the holy bible #life becoming a landslide #4st 7lb #eating disorders #gender

[serendipityjxmn]

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 3

Words Count: 2.7k

TW:

Link to Chapter 2

Link to Chapter 4

I was done with classes for the day. I glanced at my watch. Ah Young should be done by this time too. We had the same class this morning but she had taxation classes just now while I took financial reporting. I texted her but there was no reply so there I was standing awkwardly in front of my locker looking at my empty phone.

I sighed as I looked up. About 3 metres away, I noticed a familiar back, Park Jimin. He was at his own locker, and seemed to be forcing his books into his locker. Beside him leaning against the locker was Kim Taehyung, his ultimate best friend and absolute partner in crime. He too had the divine visuals, perfectly sculpted features. Damn those jawlines. A combination of Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung were very dangerous.

At that moment, Kim Taehyung’s eyes flickered at me. I froze. Is it possible that Kim Taehyung can read minds? Then he looked at Jimin. He said something and there’s a high probability that it was about me because Jimin stopped whatever he was doing and turned around, his eyes finding me.

My eyes widened. Shit. Thank God I was saved from the embarrassment of staring at the two Godly handsome men by Ah Young running towards me.

“Hana!” She said as she flung herself towards me, breathless. “I’m sorry I was late! I got called by Professor Kay on my essay.” She rolled her eyes as she opened her locker door and stacked her books inside.

“It’s fine,” I said. My whole body still tensing because I was unsure whether Jimin was still staring at me. I sneaked a peek. And yes- I regretted it instantly. My eyes met his. Immediately I looked down at my shoes.

“Hana-ya.” Ah Young nudged me.

“Hmm?” I said without looking up, pretending to be particularly interested in my shoes today.

“Hana.” She called me again.

“Hmmm..”

“Park Jimin is staring at you.” Her voice went serious.

As if my whole body could get anymore stiffer. “No, he’s not.”

“He. Is. Coming. Here.”

“What?” I looked up and momentarily I thought I forgot how to breathe as Jimin made his way towards me.

Suddenly I felt a firm hand clasped my elbow and the last thing I saw before I was whisked away by Jimin was Ah Young’s shocked expression with her mouth wide open. He steered me away for a good five minutes and I could see other students turning twice at the sight of us. He pulled me into an empty lecture hall and after closing the door carefully behind him, he turned around to face me.

Wait, I was mad at him right? So I put up the coldest expression I could.

He cocked his head to one side and I swear he looked so hot. I cursed my own brain as I felt my anger evaporated effortlessly. “You’re bad at being angry.” He smiled in amusement.

I snorted. “What do you want Park Jimin? I don’t think we have any business with each other anymore.”

“Let’s do it.”

What? My eyes went round. “What did you say?”

“I said let’s do it.” He calmly repeated.

I regarded him for a moment. Was he trying to pull a prank on me? “Why?”

“I need to graduate and there’s nothing for you to lose I guess.”

I considered his point. It was true, there was nothing for me to lose. The amount of money offered to me as mentioned by Ms Choi was lucrative. Triple the amount I earned from my part-time job at the cafe. Does Jimin know about my financial situations? I mean, I can live by but it would be nice to have savings or being able to afford nice gifts for my mom. But I wasn’t going to let him get his way so easily. “No thanks.” Before turning on my heels and making my way out of the lecture hall, I could see his shocked and confused expression. Oh, how I want to picture and savour the image of shocked Jimin forever.

The next morning I woke up feeling content. As I brushed my hair, I smirked as the image of shocked Jimin crept into my mind. The rude, obnoxious, vain, self-centred and full of himself Park Jimin. Park Jimin, THE bad boy. And to think that I somehow managed to put a shock expression on that Godly features of his face.

I arrived at the campus feeling giddy. I don’t have the same classes with Ah Young this morning so I was saved by her infinite inquisition, for now.

As soon as I was done filling my bag with the next subject’s books, someone shut my locker door. I looked up to see Ah Young. She crossed her arms.

“What?” I said, feigning innocence as I turned on my heels. I knew what was coming.

“Oh no girl. You’re not running away.” She blocked my path.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “What?”

She threw me an incredulous look. “You need to spill the tea, sister! You and Park Jimin. What is going on?” She was almost half screaming and her hands were now on both side of her waist.

“Oh my god- keep it low!” I glared at her as I glanced sideways, making sure no one was paying attention to us. I dragged her to the cafeteria and chose the furthest seat available away from any other human in existence. Then I told her everything. I was dead serious but I almost couldn’t suppress my laugh each time Ah Young ‘oohh’ and ‘ahhh’ at the appropriate time.

“What the fuck?!” She was literally hyperventilating.

I nodded as if saying ‘I know right.’

“Oh my god! I can’t believe it. This is your chance to get into his dick!” She shrieked while vigorously tapping the table.

My eyes widened. “Ah Young!!!” I glanced around. Thank God no one had their eyes on us.

She seemed oblivious to my state of panic. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t have a slight crush on him? He’s a fine piece of ass.” She stared into space dreamily. “I wonder how rough he is in bed.”

“Oh My God!!” I quickly clasped my hands on her mouth, afraid that she would drop another bomb. Trust my best friend to be this straightforward.

“Hhvgrnkk-“ Her voice muffled below my hands.

I chuckled but released my hands anyway.

“But I said no to him.”

At this, her mouth went agape. “Are you kidding me?”

I shrugged. “He was getting too cocky! I am sure as hell not going to feed his ego.”

“You can’t be serious! You have this golden opportunity to get his dick and you’re throwing it away just like that?”

“You’re making me sound like a slut. Girl, it’s just a study session.”

“I know. But it can always evolve to something else.” She winked at me.

“Yah!” I wanted to hit her but she was quicker. She stood up and ran away, laughing.

Days passed and every single day I caught Jimin trying to catch my gaze. He seemed pissed off that I’ve been trying extra hard to avoid any eye contact with him. Ah Young kept telling me to stop my act already though. Apparently I am throwing my chance away of getting into the divine man that he is, Park Jimin’s pants. I ignored her every single time. I smiled satisfactorily. This is my victory.

I was happily skipping my way out of Ms Choi’s room after I submitted my assignment that evening when I felt my wrist being pulled by someone and the next thing I know I was in an empty lecture hall.

“What the-“ I almost cursed when I saw Jimin pushing me against the door. The close proximity was making my breath uneven. Park Jimin with orange hair was illegal.

“So you thought it was fun to test me?” He said, his voice low. His hands on both side of my head. His face inching closer to mine.

“W-what are you going to do?” Damn it, I stuttered. I looked away.

“I’ll show you how fun it is to test me.” His tone laced with threat. I gulped. What is he trying to do?

He inched closer and closer. When I felt like he wouldn’t stop, I mustered as much courage and pushed his shoulders away while closing my eyes.

To be frank, I was scared of his next action. But I didn’t sense any movement so I slowly open my eyes and I saw Jimin blinking at me. His face confused as he stared at my palms on his chest and back at my face.

“I-“ I began but no words came out. I felt my cheeks reddening and I pulled my hands away.

He smirked. “I haven’t even laid a finger on you and your face is already this red.” To my relief, he backed away. “So, I guess if you don’t want anything of this sort happening again, I suggest that you accept the proposal.”

I considered saying yes, I really did. But my pride just won’t let me especially when he tried to threaten me with what-? Trying to touch me? Park Jimin is indeed a jerk. So, naturally and firmly, I replied, “No.” My pride stood up, clapped loudly and bowed with a flourish. I smirked at him and turned on my heels immediately.

Days after that, I think Jimin had sort of gave up trying to earn a simple ‘yes’ from me. I couldn’t care less. I was happy enough that he practically had to beg although obviously he didn’t because he tried to threaten me but it’s his loss so I just continued to fan my ego.

Ah Young on the other hand seemed to disagree with me. “You’re probably the only person in this world who dared to say no to Park Jimin.” She said as she shook her head at me.

Lunchtime that day, we both decided to eat outside near the bleachers. There were a few boys playing basketball at the court. We sat there munching on our food.

“You know, I really think it’s time for you to say yes to Jimin now.” Ah Young said as she took a huge bite out of her Subway.

I rolled my eyes. “Not again, honey.”

“I mean seriously! How long do you think you can run away from him? He may be hot as fuck but he is also scary as hell.” She reminded me.

As if on cue, we heard some noises that caught our attention. We searched the court to find the source. We sat quite far at the bleachers so I zoomed my eyesight to my best ability and could make out some boys were fighting at the court.

“Holy shit- see? I told you Jimin is some scary shit.” Ah Young said, her eyes fixated to the court.

What? I squinted my eyes. Holy fuck- I could see Jimin was in a fight with one of the boys playing basketball. I did not realize he was one of the players just now. The way he threw his punches mercilessly.. I shuddered. Perhaps Ah Young was right, I should probably stop messing with him. He’d beat me into a pulp in an instant if he wanted to. But would he? Another voice popped in my mind. I never see him beat girls. But best not test his patience Kim Hana. The small voice in my head nodded in agreement.

That evening, as soon as I was finished with my classes, I stood waiting at my locker. Jimin’s classes finished at four too today. I watched his locker like a hawk, waiting for his appearance while also trying to remain inconspicuous. A few minutes after that, he walked past me and went straight to his locker. Beside him was Kim Taehyung.

I had no idea since when did the prospect of talking to Jimin become so easy, I found myself taking strides towards him. Jimin had his back on me while Taehyung leaned against his locker. When Taehyung saw me, he gave a signal to Jimin. Shit, now that I’m here it felt like my legs had turned Jell-O. He turned around and there he was, his visuals blinding me as usual. I struggled to remain composure.

He raised his brows at me. “Yes? What can I help you with?”

Shit. Am I going to say it? Have I really decided this? My mental war must’ve gone on for quite some time as Jimin had now propped his elbow on his locker door. “Let’s do it.” There, I said it.

He then leaned in closer and closer to me I had to step back. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, his voice low. I cursed because it’s unfair to how sexy he sounded.

“Yes.” I answered.

He raised his brow as if perplexed by how easy I came to a conclusion.

I drew a breath. “I’ll tell you when to meet. Since this is very sudden, give me some time to prepare-“

“Tomorrow.” He cut me.

“But I haven’t-“

“2 PM. Library.” He finalised, already turning on his heels while Taehyung followed suit after regarding me for a moment.

Link to Chapter 4

Posted on 200505 09:53PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnihateyouparkjimin #bts au #jimin au #jimin fic #jimin smut #bts smut #kimnamjoon #kimseokjin #minyoongi #kimtaehyung #jeonjungkook