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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

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The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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renegadewangs · 3 years

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Van Zieks - the Examination, part 4

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 2 of the second game, The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro!

Episode 2-2: The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro

Remember how in the last episode we vaguely got Barok on our side near the end of the trial by proving Mrs. Garrideb was actually involved in the crime? … Yeah. Forget that progress. It's being undone. Case 2-2 is the first case of the second game which features Barok, which unfortunately means he needs to be 'reintroduced' to the audience and it takes him back several steps in his growth. It makes sense, I suppose, it would've been weird starting a new game with him already being lightly on Ryu's side. Even so, it's a bit insulting how this case acts as if the chronologically previous one accomplished nothing.

So anyway, this case flashbacks to something which supposedly happened right after the first game's fourth case. The day after Soseki's acquittal, even. Turns out, Soseki awoke to find one of the other tenants in his building dead and asked Ryu for help, but (S)Holmes tagged along. Gregson is at the crime scene, keeping an eye on the place and on Soseki in particular since he's suspicious. (Sure, Gregson. Sure. Has nothing to do with the Reaper's curse, probably.) After some investigation with (S)Holmes, Gregson has enough evidence to actually arrest Soseki, which definitely feels like a step backwards. A bit later, it turns out the victim is Not Actually Dead Yet. Again! The Great Ace Attorney really enjoys throwing us for a loop by pretending we're in for another murder case.

Anyway, during the course of the investigation, I found two mentions of Van Zieks. The first is when you investigate the broken glasses and bottles in the victim's room. Susato is immediately reminded of Lord van Zieks.

And when examining Garrideb's old army uniform, Susato points out it might suit Lord van Zieks.

Haha, as if his usual outfit isn't ostentatious enough already. So we learn that Susato doesn't have a very high opinion of him at all, and I should hope it's not still related to that time he called detective novels pathetic. It's fun of them to refer to him in an investigation that he's not involved in in any way, especially when they don't know yet that he's the prosecution again.

Speaking to Soseki in the gaol, we're once again told that he's had a dreadful time in England so far. He sees foreigners everywhere and he's sure they're all laughing at him. He's been so on edge the past year that he's moved 'more times than he can remember'. So once again, we're reminded that racial prejudice in 1900s England is a focal point of this game's story. Once the conversation is over, Gregson appears to let the gang know that the victim has regained consciousness and is accusing Soseki of poisoning him. We're going to trial for an attempted murder charge, y'all!

The next day, in the defendant's lobby, Susato comes bursting in with the dreadful news that Barok van Zieks has once again taken on the prosecution. It's definitely safe to assume now that either Ryu or Soseki is the reason he's taking on these not-really-murder trials when he normally wouldn't. As I mentioned before, this is his reintroduction in the second game and so the game feels compelled to remind the player of what went down in case 1-4:

He sure did! The game also once again reminds us what the Reaper's Curse entails, and that perhaps that's the reason why Soseki is on trial yet again. He's doomed, perhaps. Susato also informs us that (S)Holmes is running late, just as he was two days ago, and Ryu thinks that's a good thing because if the Great Detective were there, Ryu might come to rely on his help.

… I suppose? He already relies on Susato for help and I feel like that would warrant far more 'preying' from Van Zieks than relying on a male, adult British detective for help. Though knowing (S)Holmes, he'd end up stealing the show and taking the words from Ryu's mouth, but that doesn't seem to be what Ryu's worried about here. I suppose the main point to take away from this remark is that Ryu wants to do as much as he can by himself. He wants to appear strong in front of Van Zieks to avoid presenting an easy target, and I think this might actually be the first time we see a sentiment like that from him. Is he afraid of Van Zieks? Does he actually care about the man's opinion? Anyway, he swears to show Van Zieks what a Japanese lawyer can do.

Inside the courtroom, Van Zieks does the usual prosecutor spiel about how the defense needs to be ready for defeat. Ryu thinks to himself that Van Zieks has a particular animosity towards Japanese people for some reason.

Good thing we got a second game in the series, eh? So because the defendant was on trial only two days ago, the same jurors were chosen where possible. The only juror not returning is Mrs. Garrideb, who's too busy being in prison. Her spot is now taken by a very fancy lady we later learn to be the wife of the Altamont Gas Company's owner. She may as well be the CEO herself with how she's acting, though. Anyway, Van Zieks addresses the jurors directly.

“However, the innocent verdict afforded to this eccentric Nipponese before... has had dire consequences. Did the accused repent for his wrongdoing in that affair? Far from it. Instead, he used his freedom to perpetrate a most blood-curdling crime!”

Van Zieks makes record time by taking off his cloak immediately after this line. He's gone straight into overdrive. The witnesses summoned this time are Inspector Gregson and... Soseki? It's very irregular for the defendant to be testifying, especially this early in the trial and especially by the prosecution's request. I can't really make much of it. It feels like the only reason Soseki is testifying is for this joke:

Also found when examining the testimony is a remark from Van Zieks that I honestly found shocking in how ferocious and scummy it is.

Unnecessary, that remark. It didn't need to exist at all in my opinion. So after Ryu shatters the testimony and scatters Gregson's fish 'n chips, Van Zieks calmly pours himself a glass of wine. I have to be honest, by now whenever he does this I'm left wondering what he'll do next. Will he crush the chalice? Will he throw it? Will he actually take a sip? The versatility of the action and unpredictable nature of Van Zieks add a bit of suspense. Turns out, his mind wandered during the testimony.

And then he ends up crushing the glass in his hand anyway. Alas, poor chalice. We knew it. So after a bit of debating back and forth about whether Shamspeare drank the supposedly-poisoned-tea after Soseki left the room, Van Zieks suddenly falls silent. We get three different, consecutive frames of him going “......” and when the judge asks what's wrong, he says this:

Supersonic hearing, this one. That is, unless the carriage entered the courthouse and literally pulled up in the hallway outside the room? Haven't we learned our lesson from the last time a carriage was driven into the Old Bailey?! So Shamspeare was apparently subpoenaed by the prosecution and has shown up to testify (with his doctor's permission). Bad news for us, since he's the one accusing Soseki in the first place. There's also a second witness to support Shamspeare's insistence there were no other visitors to the room and therefore only Soseki could have poisoned him. After that testimony is over, Van Zieks gets his wish and all the jurors vote guilty.

Van Zieks really seems to think that Soseki is a terrible person deserving of justice, huh? He was right there during the previous trial, saw Ryu prove without a shadow of a doubt that Soseki was innocent and still insists that justice will be done “this time”. Calm the heck down man, you're the one who sided with us when Mrs. Garrideb needed to testify, remember? And here comes another example of the game pretending the previous trials didn't leave an impact; when the Summation Examination is brought up, it's with disdain and this remark:

Bro, we used the Summation Examination successfully like five times already. Sit your butt down and watch the show. The jurors once again give prejudiced reasons for their decisions:

And unfortunately, instead of changing their minds by proving Soseki is a morally upstanding, innocent citizen, Ryu instead gets through this Summation Examination by basically proving Shamspeare is a worse person than Soseki. That's... not the direction you should be taking here, narrative. After convincing four of the jurors that Shamspeare is a fishy liar, Van Zieks flings another chalice of wine in frustration. The judge still thinks he could technically pass a ruling on the trial, since the new information didn't exactly disprove that Soseki is the culprit, but the jurors have been influenced so thoroughly that they can't let this new info go ignored. Testimony from the Altamont Company is allowed! Van Zieks thinks it's a waste of time, of course, and if this were reality it would be. Since it's an Ace Attorney game, we know Shamspeare's gas thievery is bound to somehow be related to the incident. Van Zieks flings yet another chalice after hearing the testimony (how many has it been already? Five?) and very shortly after, he tosses the entire bottle over his shoulder. Susato points out that he seems to be in a violent mood. I feel like someone must've pissed in his oatmeal that morning, because I've got no real explanation for why his character regressed this badly in the course of what chronologically was only two days.

Van Zieks flings two more chalices as the testimony progresses to prove that Shamspeare made fake coins to fool the gas meter. At the end of it all, he supposedly 'throws his hand up in despair and happened to catch his hallowed bottle along the way', flinging yet another one of those into the gallery. I'm starting to feel very bad for the people seated behind him now. Is the game overdoing these quirky animations to compensate for his regressed attitude? Because I'm not sure it's working... Van Zieks continues to insist that the situation hasn't changed and only Soseki could have poisoned the victim, so he calls for immediate adjucation. The game gives Ryu the option to either object or wait and see, and I have to be honest, this gave me pause. After what happened with the penalties in case 1-4, I was sure Van Zieks might dish out more punishment for waiting and seeing. Turns out, he doesn't. Ryu points out that Shamspeare likely used the tea to make these fake frozen coins of his, meaning there's still tea left at the scene of the crime which can be tested for poison.

Head in my hands right now. Again, I get it, they basically had to reintroduce Van Zieks to newcomers of the game (however few there might've been) so they had to regress him a bit, but I really don't like this. He honestly felt like he'd grown at the end of 1-4 and the game's not only undone it, it feels like they've made him even more of a scumbag. This line and this gesture honestly doesn’t quite correspond with the character established in the previous game. Anyway, court adjourned till the next day so the police can test the tea for poison.

During the investigation segment, we get a conversation that I'd quite honestly forgotten even exists. Turns out, (S)Holmes and Van Zieks are acquainted! ...or are they? (S)Holmes says he 'must pass the time of day with Mr. Reaper again, as it's been too long' and when asked whether they're acquainted, (S)Holmes replies that there isn't a person in the world who doesn't know his name, expertly dodging the question. Naturally, a new conversation topic opens up about it, so we can still attempt to needle more details out of him.

He explains the history of the Reaper's curse a bit more. Previous defendants found not-guilty would 'disappear from the capital' by falling under a passing carriage, drowning in the Thames, succumbing to a sudden fever... Etc. Susato points out that if those rumors are true, then surely the obvious conclusion would be that they were killed by Van Zieks's own hand. (S)Holmes points out that's impossible, since Van Zieks was already investigated on the matter before and for every single incident, he had a solid alibi. (This... doesn't disprove Van Zieks had anything to do with it, but okay (S)Holmes. Sure.) (S)Holmes also rubs it in yet again that Van Zieks retired from the courts five years ago and didn't return until the day Naruhodo arrived. I honestly don't know why they keep bringing that 5 year hiatus up in every single case, because as far as I can recall it was never fully explained or relevant.

I love how “foul smell” is wedged in-between those two topics as if it's also related. Anyway the conversation continues when Ryu brings up that Van Zieks seems to have a particular disdain for Japanese people. Susato demands to know whether (S)Holmes knows a bit more about it and while he's silent at first, he relents and tells us a tale (which will apparently be forgotten by Ryu and Susato in case 1-5). Van Zieks “chose to enter the legal profession ten years ago, but before that time, the man's closest companion hailed from the empire of Japan”. Which is a wording that baffles me, because it implies that Van Zieks chose to enter the legal profession at the same moment that Japanese person betrayed him, which we know is not the case. He was already in training to be a prosecutor before that, otherwise how could he possibly have prosecuted the Professor trial? Ryu is shocked and asks to know more, but (S)Holmes says the veil on the events from the past will be lifted soon enough. I'll get back to the implications of what this means for Van Zieks's backstory when we hit this exact same reveal in case 1-5.

Van Zieks is mentioned very little in the rest of the investigation segments. We only learn that he tasked Gregson with finding new clues, much to Gregson's dismay, as there isn't much to be found. The Inspector does immediately leap at new information when we uncover it, which implies he's eager to either please Van Zieks or avoid being scolded by him. I'm assuming the latter, but it's also possible Gregson feels guilty over the whole Reaper thing and Klint's autopsy, and is now compensating by working his hardest to fulfill Van Zieks's requests.

At the very end of the investigation, when evening falls, (S)Holmes reminds us that “it'll be hard to escape the grip of our friend, Mr. Reaper”. The next day, in the defendant's lobby just before the trial begins, Ryu thinks to himself that he doesn't believe in the legend of the Reaper any more than he believes in the convict's curse Soseki keeps mentioning. What's interesting here is that Ryu isn't dreading the confrontation anymore. After the McGilded trial he seemed genuinely intimidated by the concept of going up against Van Zieks (not because of the racism but because of what happened to his first defendant), but now he's not so hesitant anymore. He's beginning to see that Van Zieks can be defeated, that the Reaper thing is nonsense and that protecting his client is a fight worth fighting.

Into the courtroom we go for day 2 of the trial! When the judge asks about the results of the tea test, Van Zieks is silent for a moment. He pours himself a glass of wine, asking for a moment to “savour a liquid of a more sanguine hue”, then refers to Gregson for the full report. Gregson confirms no poison was found in the tea remains, but the prosecution wouldn't be the prosecution (and the game would be pretty boring) if they didn't have a backup plan. When Ryu proclaims Soseki is innocent, Van Zieks accuses him of jumping to conclusions, “a typical Nipponese reaction”. It's also a typical prosecution reaction to be hypocritical, no surprises here. He throws his chalice (first one of the day) and summons Shamspeare back to the stand to testify about how Soseki's unpoisoned and undrank cup of tea had been used to make the ice coins.

There's some lines here that I thought I might as well include:

“Yet on occasion, tedium distracts me and I pour more times than I intended until the bottle is dry.”

You know, it occurs to me that this drink is pretty much confirmed to be wine. He's very extra when talking about it himself, but he had his silly little wine analogies in the previous case and Susato referred to his glasses as “wine glasses”. And you would think it's obvious that it's wine, but we know Ace Attorney's long history with 'grape juice'. Either way, this dialogue leaves a pretty harsh implication that Van Zieks drinks alcohol simply to distract himself from troublesome moods. Sure, he says “tedium”, but this is a stoic prosecutor in the year 1900. They referred to depression as “melancholia” back then, and since he doesn't appear to have any friends, I expect he experiences “tedium” quite often outside the courtroom. He apparently set a rule for himself not to fill his glass more than seven times during a trial which, in turn, implies he's aware any more would cause problems. All of this is moot, of course, since 80% of the wine he pours for himself ends up on the floor between shards of glass. Still, though... Zieks, are you okay?

I don't think he is, because he pulls a very dirty trick here. Ryu proves Soseki drank all his tea and therefore it couldn't possibly have been used, so Van Zieks insinuates to Shamspeare that perhaps he misremembered using the tea from Soseki's cup and instead used tea still left in the teapot. An excuse Shamspeare happily takes, of course. Not gonna lie, I got angry, not because it's a dirty trick but because it's inconsistent. This is the very same character who all but dragged Mrs. Garrideb down from the juror bench to testify when it became clear she likely threw a knife out the window. And now he's feeding slippery excuses to a man who's very clearly lying about all sorts of things? What??? And remember this incident, because I'm going to be referring back to it later.

He crushes another chalice, removes his cloak and continues to insist that we should believe this thieving liar at the witness stand. The jurors for some reason buy the baloney served to them on a tinfoil platter and even twist Ryu's sentiments around, with some bloke going as far as to interpret the situation as 'the lawyer lad believes anyone who steals gas deserves to be poisoned'. Summation Examination gets very funky this time around, with the outcome being that Shamspeare probably blew the gas pipes (s-snerk) and the poison was laced on the pipe.

Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and pretty much immediately flings it, saying these are all empty assertions without a shred of proof. When Ryu presents the picture with the skin prints, Van Zieks once again breaks the rule of the prosecution staying silent during Summation Examination to point out that skin prints cannot be used as evidence, since that method is not recognized by the court (yet). Aaand he crushes yet another chalice in his hand.

Susato claims it was never meant to be used as official evidence, it was only a tool to demonstrate a new possibility to the jury. Jumping through some loopholes here, we are, since the picture is clearly in our Court Record as evidence. But, well, the prosecution cheats too so what's the harm? Some jurors vote not-guilty, but there's still one more that needs convincing on order to keep the trial going. Ryu says he has a witness who's already testified that the pipe-blowing incident did indeed occur that night, as Soseki stated the other day before the court that his stove went out in the dead of night. (Hang on, is this why the narrative made him testify alongside Gregson?) With that the majority of the jury votes not-guilty and the trial has to continue, but Van Zieks is extra rattled now. (Another bottle goes soaring.)

He once again reminds the court that skin prints aren't admissible evidence and therefore, there is no real proof Shamspeare put his mouth to the pipes (ghghhh I'm sorry this is such a silly thing to have to type out). Ryu asks for an investigative team to test the mouth of the gas pipe for poison, but since it would've evaporated by now, that's a no-go. Also, Van Zieks says that “what appears to be simple is my Nipponese friend's mind” and that's a scumbag point. Ryu attempts to turn the trial around by claiming that Shamspeare attempted to kill Soseki, making the defendant the victim, but Van Zieks ain't having it. The aggrieved being the accused is an interesting notion, but doesn't change what actually happened. In fact, if anything, it establishes a motive for Soseki to lay a trap for Shamspeare. Because who else could have known about the gas pipe trickery and put the poison there, right? Why, the true culprit, of course.

Our man Van Zieks really doesn't like (S)Holmes, huh? A tidbit which the games will never bother to explain! Either way, Ryu raises the name of Olive Green, the victim of the previous case. And I gotta say, I do genuinely like the way they integrated these two Clouded Kokoro cases together. The chronology of everything that went down is very fun to decipher, but long story short, Olive Green was at Briar Road the day she was stabbed for a reason and knows more about the 'convict curse' Soseki and Garrideb kept mentioning, so let's drag her into court! Van Zieks agrees to subpoena Miss Green in order to 'see his Nipponese friend's farce through to its conclusion'.

So during intermission some more evidence is handed to Ryu and when trial resumes, Van Zieks continues to be his usual self.

“The prosecution has tried to extend every courtesy to this amateur newcomer from dubious Eastern shores.”

Ryu sweats bullets as he meekly thanks Van Zieks “(for his backhanded consideration)”, but once again the judge is the one to call Van Zieks out on his attitude.

Amazing. It's so refreshing to see a judge who actually disagrees with the prosecution's haughty attitude problems and acknowledges it has no place in a courtroom. Nothing against Udgey, because we all love Udgey (and his Canadian brother), but this man actually grows and learns. So Olive Green takes the stand alongside Shamspeare (maybe not the best idea since Ryu just accused her of trying to murder this man) for dual testimony. When Green brings up what a dreadful ordeal the knife to her back was, Van Zieks says this:

Hang on, empathy? He's giving her advice? This reeks of humanization! Green seems taken aback and thanks him for his words, so the sentiment was genuinely accepted. This in itself is a very nice scene to see in action, similar to Van Zieks allowing Roly Beate to keep his job. Unfortunately, Van Zieks's character is in a wild rollercoaster of moral inconsistency during this particular case which sours the experience somewhat. Case in point:

YOOOU hypocrite! This actively angered me, because at the very start of this same trial day he was personally feeding lies to Shamspeare. Now he's warning Green not to lie? It gets even worse a bit later on when Green gets cornered about stealing the note, she asks him whether it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, and he says:

ACTIVELY FEEDING SHAMSPEARE A LIE. THE VERY SAME DAY. I'm all for prosecutors using dirty tactics. It helps to juxtapose them further to the honest defense attorney we play as. However, it needs to be consistent. Either a prosecutor condones a witness's lies to help their case, or they feel that they're above it. The third, most used option is for them to start off condoning it, only to learn that truth takes priority over victory. This sloppy back-and-forth morality that Van Zieks has going on here is insanely frustrating, so it's no wonder some players end up disliking him. It honestly feels as if they rewrote this case so many times, they screwed up the exact growth trajectory Van Zieks has.

Anyway, it seems Van Zieks is suddenly fully on our side now to help Ryu prove that Green was in Shamspeare's room and laced the gas pipe with poison. And I mean help help. When the judge points out that if Green had laced the pipe the very same day she was stabbed, the attempted murder would have happened six days ago. Van Zieks is the one to say “Perhaps not, My Lord” and explain Briar Road was full of police at that time. At this point, Van Zieks and Ryu (and also Susato) actively start to take turns to explain the proper chronology of events. So the defense and the prosecution are in perfect sync right now, working together to explain the whodunnit. This is the ideal outcome to any trial, usually not seen until the last case of the game, so it's curious that this dynamic abruptly shows itself in a case like this. Van Zieks does still have one moment of gaslighting when he claims Ryu may have inhaled some dubious gas, causing his judgment to be clouded, since there's no motive behind Shamspeare's attempts on his fellow lodgers. A matter that's very easily resolved, of course. Once the name of Selden is brought up, Van Zieks continues our little game of back-and-forth-truth-reveal until (S)Holmes shows his face.

“Your usual haunts are the filthy backstreets of the capital, are they not?”

To which (S)Holmes replies that it's been too long, and Van Zieks's complexion has worsened since last they met. Alright, so Van Zieks and (S)Holmes definitely have met in person before, some undetermined amount of time ago. You'd think that going by (S)Holmes's friendly attitude they might've even been friends once, but our great detective is like that towards everyone. This is evidenced by an earlier encounter with Gregson where (S)Holmes insists they're friends and Gregson says that they're not friends, to which (S)Holmes quietly agrees. So really, this little exchange tells us nothing about the history between the great detective and the Reaper.

Some shenaniganry, a breakdown and admittance to guilt later, the court is finally ready to deem Soseki innocent. Van Zieks once again has some interesting lines here:

“And one I certainly didn't envisage walking... with you.”

Considering he attempted to trip us up for most of this walk up until the very last stretch, I don't like this remark very much. It feels very unearned. This is another one of those things that would've been more suitable in the last case of the game, but instead it's being crammed into a messy mid-game moment with the pretense that Van Zieks learned a lesson about being our ally.

In the defendant's lobby, the game basically gives the exact same dialogue as at the end of the original Clouded Kokoro case; that Soseki is returning to Japan and hopes to pen his own literature there, with the rest of the cast pointing out that the Reaper's Curse must factor into his decision to some degree. So we're still holding onto that question of whether Soseki will escape an untimely death or not. Anyone who's already played the last case of the first game will know the answer, of course.

So to summarize... I genuinely didn't enjoy Van Zieks's portrayal in this case. It really feels as if something went horribly wrong and they got some notes mixed up about where his character was already headed in the previous game. It's a crying shame. There was a lot of potential for a case set between 1-4 and 1-5, but they really dropped the ball when it comes to consistency and I've no doubt that it reflected badly on people's opinions of him. Though I think when we return to the first game for The Unspeakable Story, everything will right itself out again to some degree. Stay tuned!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks #MAN I got frustrated with this one #what happened here???

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 21

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Nothing much, just the usual.

A/N: Hey, so, Saturday, also known as Halloween just so happens to be my birthday. So, naturally I will be taking that day off from writing to celebrate. Just as a warning!

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer widened his eyes and rushed to the receiver, standing beside Hotch as the call was put on speaker.

"Morgan-! Morgan, w-where are you?!" He asked hastily, his hands finding the edge of the table and gripping harshly.

"Nngh… I… I think Charleston? The concussion I got from his damn gun isn't helping my vision much. I know we're in West Virginia. I got somebody to send Garcia some coordinates." Morgan explained in a tired voice.

Spencer felt a heavy and relieving sigh leave his chest. Morgan managed to get free. That meant they had a good fighting chance to find you.

Hotch nodded and began to gesture to JJ to talk to Garcia. "Thanks Morgan. Keep in touch and get some help-"

"Hotch, that isn't it. She… I wasn't able to get out on my own. She… she made a deal for my freedom. She said she'd… consent." Morgan revealed, sending a shiver of shock running down his spine.

Spencer’s eyes widened at Morgan’s reveal, feeling his heart break in his chest for you. If he wasn’t already showing it on the outside, he was grieving for you and the pain you had to go through.

"...what?" He asked.

"You know what I mean, Reid. He already raped her once. Right in front of me and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Just… just get here dammit. She doesn't have too much longer."

Hotch sighed. "Alright. We're on our way now. Just get some help for those injuries. We're unfortunately going to need you as a guide."

Spencer was still in shock, his anger growing slightly as he made the promise to kill Peter if he got the chance. He had done the worst thing he could do to you. And Spencer was pissed.

"Got it Hotch." Morgan replied, hanging up shortly after.

"Wait!"

Spencer looked up at the stairs, still seething from what he’d learned of your experience, and saw a frantic Garcia rushing down the stairs. "Wait! Did-Did he already hang up?" She asked.

Prentiss nodded. Garcia whined and groaned. "Damn it. At least he's okay. I got the coordinates. It does in fact center in on the Charleston police station." Garcia informed.

Spencer looked down, took a deep breath, and began to think, the gears moving in his head. Rossi looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"I know that look. What you got, Reid?" He asked.

Spencer bit his lip for a moment before he quickly opened his satchel bag. "Garcia, did you run those properties? Everything Peter’s ever purchased?"

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. But nothing stands out."

"Well, narrow that down to properties bought in the last 5-6 months and near the Charleston area." Spencer urged.

Garcia's eyes widened and she smiled at Spencer. "Goody gumdrops, this is why we call you the resident genius, g-man." She says, hurrying back up the stairs. "I'll call you guys with the info on the jet. Just get down there and find our other genius." Garcia insisted.

Hotch nodded. "Right. Wheels up in ten. We need to get down there and fast. Like Morgan said, (Y/N) may not have much time before he relocates her. Or worse."

At Hotch's final statement, the team dispersed to get their go-bags and gear to get on the jet. Each of the members had a determined look on their face. Spencer would be lying if he said that didn't comfort him even just a bit.

Spencer hurried towards his desk and slung the strap of his go bag across his shoulder, rushing towards the jet before anyone else. But who could blame him?

The rest of the team joined him one by one on the jet, each giving him their version of a look of pity. But Spencer wasn't paying attention, all he was doing, was trying to figure out how they planned to find you.

"Hey…" Spencer heard.

"Hey." He said quickly, never looking up from the seemingly interesting wood pattern of the table in front of him.

"We're here if you need anything." JJ smiled down at Spencer as the plane began to take off. Spencer, still not looking up, just nodded and mumbled an incoherent form of 'yeah'

JJ frowned, but didn't push it, taking her seat quickly. Prentiss sat a seat ahead of him, Rossi and Hotch being a few seats away across the walkway.

Spencer never broke his concentration on the table, his mind wandering to each and every possible outcome for this. He didn't want to lose you. He'd already lost too many people. He couldn't lose you too.

A single tear fell from his eye, encouraging him to close his eyes tiredly. He sighed gently, rubbing his thighs.

Then, the thud of a chess set case echoed in front of him, jolting him from his concentration. Spencer quickly wiped away the tear, blinking a few times as he looked up to see who had dropped the set.

Rossi leaned against the seat in front of Spencer and gestured towards it. "Mind if I join you?" He asked.

Spencer took a moment before he nodded silently, trying to re-focus on reality. Rossi took the seat in front of Spencer and opened up the set, setting up the pieces with white in front of himself and black in front of Spencer.

"You know, we can all see right through you." Rossi spoke casually, continuing his set up.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked. Rossi hummed for a moment, finishing up his set up.

"We can all see how much you care for her. It's almost like you like her or something." Rossi teased gently, flashing a knowing look and a smirk at Spencer.

"T-there was never an attempt to deceive you all, I-I do like her." Spencer answered, fumbling with the king piece he had subconsciously grabbed.

"Oh?" Rossi replied, pausing for a moment. "You didn't say anything."

"T-that's because statistically only 60% of all relationships end up working out. Especially those that start with very little time in the beginning to get to know each other. And… adding the fact that I am socially awkward, unable to flirt properly like Morgan has tried to teach me, and that I am increasing in age, the probability of anything working out between her and me are slim. I didn't want to rush into anything without being sure." Spencer rambled, gesturing with his hands as he nervously went through all of what he thought were aspects of why he wasn't made for you.

Rossi raised an eyebrow as he took his first move. "Kid, you always listen to those statistics but never your heart. That's your problem. You know," Rossi began, beginning to talk in his story-telling tone. Spencer took his turn, trying to focus on both the conversation and the game. It was a little tough.

"My second wife, she always told me that I worked too much. Wrote too much and never spent that much time with her. Though my heart kept saying I wanted to. I never listened. And now here I am, three wives down and a dozen books added to my collection. Don't be me, Kid. When we find her, you're gonna run to her, and hold her in your arms again. If that feels right, holding her like that, she's the one." Rossi encouraged, taking a second move.

Spencer’s eyes wandered over the board before quickly taking his next move and tanking three of Rossi's pawns. Rossi widened his eyes and nodded to Spencer, impressed.

"I… I know I want to be with her Rossi. But I also know that, after traumatic events, it takes 6 months or more for a victim to recover and get back into their daily routines. Let alone start anything new. I don't want to add to her pain, or start our potential relationship on her thinking I'm using her. Or her just using me for comfort and then leaving me after she's better." Spencer debated, watching as Rossi took another turn.

Spencer then spoke up. "Check."

Rossi raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Reid, do you know her to be that type of person? To use someone for her own benefit?" He asked, taking his next move.

"No…" he replied, taking his as well.

"Then should you be worried about her doing so?"

"No…" Spencer sighed, shaking his head as he watched Rossi take another turn.

"Then don't worry about it. Just trust your gut. And follow your heart before it betrays you." Rossi says, taking his hand off of his piece.

Spencer then moved his, and called out. "Checkmate."

Rossi chuckled. "Well, you are the undefeated champion of the BAU. I should've expected that." He laughed. Spencer’s lips curled into a gentle smile.

"You could do it, you just have to focus on the logic." Spencer says, smiling at Rossi.

"Eh, who needs logic when you've got aged wine and some good pasta? Solves every problem." Rossi teased, beginning to get up.

"Rossi, a-actually…" Spencer began.

Rossi turned his head, facing Spencer and encouraging him to continue.

Spencer sighed. "Would you mind playing one more round? It… it's helping me clear my head."

Rossi smiled and nodded. "Sure. I haven't gotten my butt kicked enough yet today."

Spencer chuckled gently, and helped Rossi begin another game. He was still worried about you, but you were going to be okay. He… had to trust his heart.

○●♡●○

You bit your lip as he finished, exhaling long and hard. He sounded satisfied. You knew he was. You hadn't fought him. You hadn't moaned either. Sure, you still felt the effect of what he was doing to you, but the horror and the pain overwhelmed the faint pleasure you had felt.

Peter pulled himself from you and fastened his pants back, leaving you against the wall. "That was amazing… better than the first time. Such a slut for me." He slurs, causing a painful shiver to run down your spine towards your bruised core.

You looked towards the wall, refusing to look at him or let him see you cry. He didn't deserve to. Nor would he get the pleasure.

"Oh come on, you liked it." He insisted, standing up and rebuttoning his pants.

You still refuse to reply, your bottom lip quivering softly. Peter rolled his eyes and kicked your shin, causing you to cry out in sudden pain.

"Such a weak thing. Big ol' FBI agent? Pathetic." Peter snarled as he pulled a gun from his back pocket. You looked up at him, fearful of your life.

"W-what… what are you going to do with that?" You ask, trying to mask your fear.

"What do you think, bitch? I had to let that bastard go so I could get you to listen. Now, I gotta go kill him so nobody ever finds you. Just relax, I'll be back for round two." Peter grinned, not missing the crack in your voice or the sob that came from your throat.

The cellar door slammed, and you curled up your weakening body. You then began to silently cry. All of this would soon be for nothing if Morgan didn't get somewhere else in time. You felt hopeless and alone. Not even thinking of the dance you had invited Spencer to was able to calm you. All you could do was cry, and hope to whatever God there was that you'd make it to see the other side.

○●♡●○

Morgan sighed and winced as the medic bandaged his leg properly. "Watch it man, I still need that leg to find my friend." He hissed. The medic nodded his apologies and continued his first aid.

It wasn't long after that the doors of the police station opened, and in walked his entire team. Hotch and Reid were the first ones to approach Morgan.

"Hey… how're you feeling?" Hotch asked.

"Eh… like I got hit by a semi truck. Twice. But I'll live. What do you all got?"

"Garcia and I narrowed down Peter's properties and found he purchased a large portion of land nearby in the last 5-6 months. He also had work done on it to build a cellar." Spencer explained.

"That's gotta be where he held us. I was only able to see the way we got there from the car. Couldn't tell you the directions to the place though. I can take you all back to the cellar though. If I retrace my steps." Morgan assured, adjusting his position. The medic continued to fuss over Morgan, trying to keep him still so that they could work.

"Morgan, if you can't walk or are unable to help us, you'll be the best help here getting as much rest as you can-" Hotch began.

"I ain't a vegetable Hotch! If I can get up and I can walk, I'm gonna go with you. I want to help you all get justice served to this bastard on a silver fucking plate." Derek seethed, his hands forming fists at his sides.

Hotch sighed and nodded, knowing it would be of no use to argue with Morgan now. "Alright, just let us know if you need to take a break." He assures before he begins getting the police and the SWAT team ready to search the woods.

Spencer began to turn to do the same, before Morgan grabbed his hand, pulling him back. Spencer raised an eyebrow, a bit confused by the action.

"Reid… kid… I gotta warn you… she's not in the best mental state. She's gonna try and get away from you at first. She's...not going to look her best is what I'm saying." Derek sighed, letting his hand fall.

Spencer nodded. "Of course. I-I'll try and calm her before I approach her. Promise." He says, flashing Morgan a gentle smile.

"And… one more thing…" Spencer added, sighing gently. Morgan looked up at the younger man, encouraging him to continue.

"Is she… does she blame me at all? Is she injured fatally? Anything I need to know?" He asked, beginning to ramble his worries.

"Pretty boy… calm down for a minute. No, she doesn't blame you. She's gonna be hurt, but not that bad. She's sick though. Probably an infection causing her fever." Morgan answered, rubbing Spencer’s lower arm.

Spencer sighed in relief and closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"'Course. Now come on, let's go find her and bring that asshole to Justice." Morgan enthused, slowly rising to his feet and beginning to limp towards the exit.

○●♡●○

"Are you sure it's nearby, Morgan?" Hotch asked, aiding Morgan in walking through the woods. Spencer was ahead of them, looking for anything that resembled a cellar door that Morgan had described.

"Yes, I recognize the gravel trail. There was a ton of it, that's how we knew he was coming. The rumble of the gravel." Derek insisted, wincing as he put all of his weight on his bad foot for a moment to climb up the slight hill.

Spencer urgently looked to and fro for any sign of a cellar or even some brush that looked out of place. He heard the feet of the search dogs behind them, breaking his concentration for a few moments.

Spencer shook his head and sighed, wishing he had better navigation skills. Then, he spotted an area of gravel that began to collect together. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before he slowly advanced towards the northside of the rock that prevented him from seeing the rest of the gravel. The team thankfully followed behind him, preventing him from having to instruct them on where he was going. He pulled out his gun slowly and aimed it in front of him as he advanced forward.

It took him a few minutes, as the rock had turned into a large hill that was just on an incline. But as soon as he reached the bottom, he saw the wooden door. He rushed over to the door, trying the handle only to find it locked.

The team met up with him and saw his struggle. "Is it locked?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, just… Hotch?" He asked, looking to his boss pleadingly. He was so close, so damn close. One door couldn't be the dividing force. He wasn't going to lose you over a damn locked door.

Hotch sighed and rolled up his sleeves, nodding to Spencer. "Move out of the way, Reid." He says. Spencer does so, and not a minute later Hotch kicks the door in and the cellar is soon filled with the team.

"FBI!" Hotch called.

You shrieked and began to shrink into the corner as much as you could, pulling on your chains as they came in. "P-please! P-please don't do it again! I-I don't want it! I don't want to, please!" You beg while sobbing, holding up two hands in front of your face to prevent being hit. It broke Spencer’s heart to see you so terrified.

Hotch shared a glance with Spencer, earning a gesture from Spencer that meant 'wait'.

Spencer then slowly approached you, not even trying to keep his tears from falling. "Hey… I'm not going to hurt you, (Y/N/N). Promise."

You slowly moved your hands, shivering in fear. Spencer finally reached you and gently touched your hands with his warm ones, finding yours extremely cold. "See? You don't have to be afraid of me." He tightened his hold on your hands, rubbing his thumbs against your cold fingers. "Let's get you out of here, okay? I'm a doctor, you can trust me." He looked into your eyes with hope that you would see the truth in them. And he thinks you did.

You bite your lip and finally give him a good look. You saw his tear-stained face and his worried eyes, feeling a deep realization fill your body. Your mind's haze finally began to lift, and you recognized him again. You felt your eyes fill with tears, blurring your vision. You then immediately pulled him closer to you, albeit slowly. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, as much as the chains would allow.

"S-spence… y-you found me…" you whisper hoarsely, trying not to sob. Spencer bit his lip and smiled happily, holding you close to his chest. He held a hand to your back and cradled your head with the other.

"Yeah… I did…" he whispered. He turned his head towards Hotch and gestured towards your shackles. He mouthed the word 'keys' before he turned back to you. Hotch nodded, and quickly found the keys on the hook.

Morgan took the keys from Hotch and came towards Reid and you.

You turned your head and let out a relieved gasp and sob as you see Morgan approach you, still holding onto Spencer as you did.

"Y-you're alive…" you whispered, smiling gently. He nodded, taking the key and unlocking both of your shackles.

"I am, kid." He says.

Once you felt your heart stop pounding, you also felt an exhaustion wash over you. You slowly close your eyes, laying in Spencer’s arms as you fell into a healing sleep.

Spencer smiled down at you, the smile quickly fading as he saw the numerous injuries that littered your body. He adjusted your form and began to carry you bridal style. Your head immediately leaned towards his chest, making his heart swell for a few moments. You were extremely warm to the touch other than your fingers and feet. He knew he'd have to get you to a hospital for medical attention quickly.

But for right now, you were safe. Even if Peter was still out there. But you were safe. That was all that mattered to him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader fanfic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds family #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM

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mrs-geuse · 4 years

Text

Jealousy - Hank Anderson x Reader

Re-posting because Tumblr didn’t let it show up in the tags...

Anonymous requested: “Can you please write some jealous!hank x reader? Or some Hank x pregnant!reader fluff?”

(I tried to keep this as gender neutral as I could, sorry if there are mistakes!)

Warnings: Language, alcohol use.

Hank Anderson should not be one to judge about public intoxication – and he was not judging. He was worried. This was so not like you.

Connor had been the one you called and that stung. He tried his best to swallow down that jealousy, he really did, but he was so hopeful to come in and play the hero for you. There was something about you that just made him want to play protector, but he knew you’d hate that.

Yet you still called Connor when you got drunk tonight and it was obviously not a call to Hank. Whatever the Hell that meant. What you and Connor had was a friendship and he needed to let that go.

“Hank, they’re at Crazy Matt’s,” Connor’s voice interrupted him as he grabbed his keys from his desk, shouldered on his coat.

“Glad they answered for you,” was Hank’s only response.

“That didn’t happen. Location services are still on their phone. I…noticed from the social media post that was made.”

“Great detective work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go get my ass handed to me by your bff.”

Connor had a date tonight and Hank couldn’t help but wonder if your outburst was due to that little fact. Naturally, Hank’s only date was with a bottle when he got home so Connor called in a favor. Of course, he was glad to do it – the three of you were pretty inseparable after you’d met.

So here he was speeding toward Crazy Matt’s to pick you up. Too fuckin’ bad, you didn’t want company. Pain in the ass…

In the small parking lot, he noticed your car wasn’t there and he was instantly cussing because – damn it – if you dipped to another bar, he was going to have to chase you around this city all fuckin’ night.

He slammed the car door harder than necessary and stormed his way toward the entrance. Crazy Matt’s was a pretty seedy place and he hated that you went there. Apparently, you knew the owner or some shit.

Eyes scanning around the bar, he grumbled to himself.

“Can I get ya somethin’?” the dark-haired man behind the counter greeted him.

Hank ignored his interest in what was on tap. “Do you know Y/N?”

The idiot let his expression change, yet responded, “Who wants to know?”

“Look, it’s been a long night, and I’m a friend,” the term stung something in him and the thought he’d like to drown in alcohol. “I just need to know they’re okay.”

He nodded. “Saw them go out back a few minutes ago. Left their drink so I’m sure they’ll be back.”

Hank tapped the bar, nodding in thanks as he glanced at what you’d been drinking.

There was a lot to be said about Hank, but he was not a patient man. A few seconds and he was back outside, glancing down the side alley.

What, had you gone to hook up with somebody? Fuckin’ a…

The sight shocked him.

“Y/N!?” he jogged over because it was all he could muster.

You stopped momentarily, looking breathless and disheveled and…damn it, alluring. But his eyes were instantly on your bleeding knees.

“What the fuck happened?” he almost pulled out his gun just in case something was amiss.

You waved him off, patting him on the shoulder and he stilled at the touch. “Guess I’m not great at running while inebriated,” you answered simply.

“And you were running because…?” during his question, you held his shoulder, balancing so you can pull off your shoe and get the gravel out.

He wanted to wrap his arms around you but instead he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Some jackass stole my wallet,” you waved it in front of you, clearly having gotten it back. You weren’t too flustered but the blood was dripping down your knees and it kinda stung.

You stumbled a little when getting the shoe back on and he was forced to hold you upright, your shirt having slid up just the slightest and his thumb pressed against your bare skin. Hank inhaled sharply, moving his finger as soon as he noticed.

“I’m taking you home,” he responded gruffly.

“Fuck off,” you pushed your hand against his chest but it did nothing to move the big man. “I’m not going home.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’re bleedin’ all over the place. I’m leaving and you’re coming with me.”

“No,” you pulled from his grasp, stumbled a little, still feeling your drinks. He caught you and his grip was surprisingly soft considering his voice was gruff. “Hank,” you muttered, grabbing onto his jacket and sliding your hands up to the collar. You watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard. “I’m going in to finish my drink.”

“The drink on the bar?” he managed to question. At that, you nodded. “Yeah, no you’re not.”

“Hank!” you were about to debate with him when he interrupted you.

“-Be pretty stupid ‘a you to leave a drink unoccupied for so long then down it. You know better than that.”

You smiled at that; glad he wasn’t arguing with you for once.

“Then buy me another one, Lieutenant. Let’s enjoy the night.”

Your tone of voice stirred something in Hank and he struggled to speak something coherent for a moment, his mind traveling to some impure thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.”

•••

Hank needed a drink, but didn’t expect to have one at a seedy bar tonight. He’d bought a bottle and was ready to tell everyone else to fuck off on this Friday night, but the change of plan wasn’t terrible.

The anxiety he felt at the moment was overwhelming. It wasn’t often that the two of you were alone, Connor playing a big part in the times you spent together and you both were very aware of that. But you’d become fast acquaintances and he’d grown to enjoy your company.

“Thought you were goin’ to clean up,” he nodded at you as you stayed right beside him at the bar.

“Eh, sure, I will. They got a deal goin’ on tonight,” you wriggled your eyebrows.

“Oh yeah?”

“Two shots for the price ‘a one.”

“Shots?” he repeated.

“Yeah. So…you’re my whiskey guy, aren’t ya?” you nodded at the bartender and ordered some.

“Christ…” he muttered, wiping a hand down his beard.

“Aw, come on, Hank, I know you’re always drinking alone. Live a little,” you gripped onto his jacket again, looking up at him with those eyes and, fuck, was he done for.

“Fine,” he grunted when the glasses come. You clinked the glass with him, smirked, then both slammed back two shots.

The burn was so welcomed right now, he needed something to rid his clouded mind.

“How about you get us another drink?” you sauntered off to the bathroom to wipe off your bloody legs.

And, fuck, what was he doing? He knew you and Connor would go out sometimes, knew the boy wonder didn’t drink with you and you’d sometimes make a comment that Hank should join. He avoided it. Because it was you. Because he knew what he would be like with alcohol around you and, damn it, he couldn’t let his guard down because he’d end up saying something stupid and chasing you off and the three of you would stop spending time together. Not to mention you’d end up doing just what you did tonight – calling Connor over him.

By the time he watched you wander back out of the bathroom, he was halfway done with his drink and had ordered another.

That Matt guy had stopped you and you were chatting with him, laughing at something he said. He knew you two knew each other, but how well and…well, how? Guy seemed kinda seedy, just like the bar.

Not to mention, he started touching you – hand on your shoulder, the two of you started walking toward the bar – and he slung his arm around your neck, kissed your temple, smiling the whole time.

You didn’t seem to mind, but that made Hank mind even more. What the Hell was he doing here? He’d told Connor he would come pick you up, not sit here and watch you find someone to hook up with.

Only you found the table he’d grabbed for you, came back with another round of shots.

“On the house, apparently,” you shrugged. He took one. “Oh, no, you get both. Any more, I’ll be on the floor.”

Hank could handle his booze pretty well, sure. Only he hadn’t really eaten today and the speed that the two of you were drinking…he was buzzed already.

“I need food,” you voiced, reading his mind. “Split a burger and fries with me?”

Hank swallowed back the last shot. “Sure, yeah.” You grabbed a waitress, ordered something. He felt a little loose, a little less anxious. “So, Connor’s date tonight…”

You smiled. “Oh, yeah, how do you think that’s gonna go?”

He’d meant to cast that line, hook you in, pick your brain, but you gave him no indication of discomfort.

“You first.”

You sipped your drink. “I think it’s good he’s getting out there. Proud of him for acting on his feelings, yanno?”

Hank nodded at that, contemplative. “You have anything to do with him finding the courage to ask them out?” That would tell him…

You smiled shyly. “Perhaps. Why, Lieutenant, did you miss your opportunity?”

Hank chuckled at that. “Fuck no. Plastic prick…” he trailed off. “So, what’s got you all fucked up tonight?” he blurted and then, “shit, I’m sorry. That, uh, that voicemail to Connor…”

You were surprised by that, though you knew he was blunt. “No, it’s fine. I…just long week. Stupid shit at work, tired of biting my tongue when people wrong me. Just…felt like I needed a night to be in my feelings.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just really fucking dull, aren’t I?”

“Hank…why…” you looked concerned for a second. “why do you say that?”

Maybe it was the shots talking or the kindness you showed him, but he admitted, “Thought you…maybe had feelings for the kid.”

“What!?” you almost spit out your drink. “Hank, he…he’s like a brother to me, that’s pretty fucked.” You laughed and he was glad he hadn’t pissed you off, seen your fire. He knew it was there.

“Ah, I’m fucked so don’t act too surprised.” He downed the rest of his drink.

“Cheers to that,” you clinked your glass with his and drank.

“You come here often?”

“What is that, some shitty pickup line?” you laughed and he noticed your eyes flash to his mouth.

“Well, no, just…curious. What’s up with the owner?” he couldn’t help but ask.

You leveled your gaze with his. “Hank,” you started to which he hummed, acted casual. “I’m sensing a pattern here. You worried? Competition?”

“Wh-what?”

You winked at him. “You got nothin’ to worry about, old man. We just gotta leave before…” you glanced at the bar, expression changing.

“Before…?” his slightly-more-than-buzzed mind was slow to the take, that and the flirtatious air about the conversation was giving him some ideas, stirrings in his gut…

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?” you mumbled with a sigh. “They…uh…do this thing…” you started looking under the table and Hank was slow to the take, pressing his arm over his lap as your eyes scanned down there.

“What the fuck?” he felt his cheeks heating up. “Y/N?” Seconds later, you pulled a pink sticker out from under the table. “What the fuck?” he repeated.

“Oh, God…”

A voice came over the loud speaker by the karaoke setup, announcing, “You know what time it is, folks. If I could please have everyone look under their tables for a sticker…” the announcer gave the crowd a second and people around them followed instructions. “Here at Crazy Matt’s every Friday at 8 we do a nice little ice breaker. Hold your stickers high if you’re one of the five lucky tables.”

Y/N sat perfectly still and Hank felt a sense of dread but also…some excitement. You kept looking a little lusty toward him. A waitress was coming by each sticker table and dropping off some salt and limes and vodka…

Oh, shit…

“Don’t be shy, Y/N,” a voice called. Matt, the owner, walked over. “Soon as I saw your friend here sit down, I knew it was gonna be a show…come on, partake. Live a little. On the house.”

“Y/N?” Hank asked tentatively. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Body shots,” Matt answered instantly. “Every Friday at 8, we treat our guests – if they sit at the right table. Little ice breaker, some free shots, good company…” he eyed Y/N. “I’ll gladly take your place if you’re…”

“No,” Hank found himself answering instantly, to your surprise. The thought of him licking salt off your body, drinking a shot off your skin…Hank had enough of this jealousy bullshit but he was not going to sit idly by.

Matt raised his hands up, nodded, walked away as the waitress dropped the supplies off.

“Hank, you don’t have to…”

“Nah,” he waved it off. “I…why the fuck not? Live a little, right?” he quoted that asshole, was for sure pretty far gone to be agreeing to this, his heart pounding harshly in his chest.

The announcer talked them through the steps as the waitresses cleared off the tables. When was the last fuckin’ time he’d done somethin’ like this?

You looked tentative as the waitress took your hand, helping you up on the table. Hank looked at you, gazed at your body as you laid back, tried to keep his mind focused on something else and not how you looked sprawled out in front of him. The alcohol let his mind wander. And then your hand halted the waitress and Hank’s mind cleared.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Hank, you are not drinking a shot out of my bellybutton,” you laughed, glancing around at the other customers doing just that. He didn’t know how to respond so he just stood there looking stupid, feeling stupid for agreeing to this if you were just gonna back out. Fuck, he put himself out there just for you to turn his ass down… You grabbed the salt shaker and looked up at him. “Well? How do you think that salt’s gonna stick, Lieutenant?”

It took him a second to register, but he nodded, grabbing the shot glass the waitress brought over. Slowly, he watched you lift your shirt, saw the exposed skin, almost groaned. You handed him the salt shaker and watched with eager eyes as he dipped his head down toward you. The sensation of his facial hair registered first and then his soft lips pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your abdomen. You inhaled sharply at the sensation, biting your lower lip.

Your fingers almost forgot to fumble for the plate of limes, but you managed to as soon as he started sprinkling the salt on you and then his mouth was back to lick it off your skin. You moaned against the lime in your mouth, unable to hold back.

Hank smirked a little, stood up, took the shot. As he swallowed, he leaned down to get the lime, his mouth lingering over yours before biting into the thing, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Annnd switch!” came the announcer’s voice before Hank was even done.

He pulled back quickly, stood straight, pulled the lime from his mouth, then helped you back off the table.

“I, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“My turn,” you chuckled, stepping close to him, pressed your hands to his belly.

“I am not showin’ my shit in here,” he stopped the trail of your hands toward the hem of his shirt.

You shrugged. “Suit yourself,” and instead moved your hands to his collar, pulling it down slightly.

Before Hank knew it, he felt your lips on his neck, tracing your tongue over the sensitive skin, nipping a bit.

“Fuck…” he mumbled, completely aroused at that point.

You sprinkled the salt on the spot then inched up to put your mouth back, flat tongue lapping it up. It ended before he wanted it to and his half-lidded gaze watched as you slammed back the shot.

Fuck.

He grabbed the lime, put it in his mouth, felt like a complete idiot. When he turned back to you, he felt your hands grip on the back of his head, dipped to meet your lips, stopped himself from grinding his body against yours at this close proximity.

Your lips were on his, no shame, no ghosting like he’d done, full-on around the lime, kiss…

You bit the fruit, pulled it from his mouth, tossed it on the plate at the table, then pulled him back in for another kiss.

Hank felt like the floodgates had opened. Fuck, had he thought about what it would be like to kiss you…

His fingers gripped at your hips, pulled you into him, mistakenly let you feel his erection.

“Hank…” you pulled back from the kiss, traced your hands down his torso.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Your order,” came a voice and, go figure, it was that Matt guy holding their burger and fries. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

And there it was, perfect timing for you to pull away from him, slap him, call him a pervert for getting so worked up over this…

“Can we get that to go?” you asked Matt and Hank couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded.

“Uh…yeah…I…yeah,” Matt scurried off.

“Too much?” you asked, gnawing at your lower lip.

Hank felt like his jaw was on the floor still. “I mean, this…you…”

“I’m done being in my feelings, Hank, so I’ll be very forward: I want you. This ends one of two ways tonight and both of them I need to leave.”

Hank felt bold for once tonight. “What are the options?” his voice was deeper, laced with flirtation, arousal. He stepped closer to you to hide his erection in case someone was looking.

“Either I go home alone, cold shower, play with myself to get you off my mind…or you take me home, we eat this together, and see where the night takes us.”

Hank never thought he’d leave half-empty drinks at a bar but on this occasion, he gladly raced out with you in tow: dinner in a to-go box, whiskey half-drunk next to the tip on the table.

So maybe you weren’t lying – you weren’t into Connor after all…

#hank anderson #hank anderson x reader #detroit become human reader insert #detroit become human #hank anderson reader #hank anderson reader insert #clancy brown #detroit become human x reader

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Shawn needed a breather. He's been traveling the globe the past year, his grand tour claiming his social life and a part of his sanity in the process.

That's why he couldn't believe his eyes on the first look.

Blinking, he drew in a shuddered breath, his right hand coming up to meet his chest as his heart felt a physical pain as it jumped at the very possibility of it being a ghost of his past.

Opening his eyes, he found the view is obscured by his waitress who had so kindly set down his order before him, unaware of his need for clear vision more than his need for food.

Craning his neck, he caught a glimpse of her Y/H/C hair, his heart nearly stopping this time around.

But then she turned around, her angelic features coming to view. No longer was her makeup smudged by her tears - tears she spilled over him - tears that didn't fall, they crashed around him. No longer was she anguished by their relationship, finally having wings to fly.

"No, that's not what I meant! Stop putting words in my mouth!" Shawn shouted, seeing her flinch with the harsh tone he chose to use with her. She had hugged her arms closer to her stomach, seeking comfort in herself as her sobs sounded, but no tears came just yet.

"Doesn't matter anymore, does it?" She hated how her voice trembled and even more how her lips wouldn't stop quivering. She hated vulnerability, even more so, she hated being vulnerable with someone who was clearly out to break her heart.

"You're breaking up with me anyway, right? Because I'm moving for college to Los Angels?" She realized, chuckling dryly as she pulled herself together at the same time her tears began to fall.

"Do you even realize how hypocritical you sound?! You, the very person who travels the world for his job?! You're never fuckijg around when I need you! This wouldn't have made a difference...but the way you're behaving just now...that makes a difference." She huffed, swallowing a threatening sob, refusing to sob any longer.

"You're taking cheap shots at me for following my dreams all while I supported yours. Well, I'm sorry, but not everyone is interested in being a part of the Shawn Mendes show." She spat bitterly, her eyes set aflame with newfound hatred for the man she loves. Had someone asked her, she'd say she could never hate him. Funny how the things we say are impossible always end up true.

"I wasn't going to break up with you, but you've already made that decision, eh? Like you decided everything else. You chose to make me the bad guy without even giving me a chance and that's not on me." Shawn kept his voice cool and steady, diffusing the situation which was spiraling out of control with many different accusations being thrown around so freely.

"But that's the problem with you Shawn." She shook her head. "You think I owe you to get permission to study in my dream school? Like I am supposed to run it by you? It's my life! My dream! Just as you were. But you broke my heart today." She wiped her tears away furiously fast, waiting for a response.

"Hope you find what you're looking for then." Shawn spoke before he turned on his heel, leaving her behind.

It's been almost a year since he left her in tears, since he last spoke to her. And he knew he made a mistake pretty quickly, because she was right. He had no say in where she studies or what. His only option should have been to support her and he failed miserably. He never forgave himself for losing her like that.

But time stood still when his eyes met hers.

She looked straight at him, her smile eclipsed by a sudden frown, her eyes darkening.

Shawn didn't even know why she was in Australia, especially with her fear of tarantulas or any insects for that matter. She always said Australia would be the last place she'd go to, yet she was standing merely ten feet from him and he was smitten...again.

Without a warning, her lips curled into a gentle smile, her body naturally drawn to him as she moved closer, determination sparkling in her eyes.

"Well, if it isn't the ever dashing Mr. Mendes." Her voice is light, playful...not spiteful or venomous as it was the last time he heard it.

"Hi!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet so fast he nearly tripped and fell on his face.

"Definitely Shawn Mendes. Still a klutz, I see." She giggled, noticing his cheeks darken notably, his shy smile wide but his eyes bore worries and confusion.

"Wanna sit?" She carried the conversation, signaling she definitely didn't want any physical contact from him even though Shawn was debating whether or not to hug her.

"I'm here on an exchange. What's your excuse?" She asked, giving him a cruch to stand on.

"Tour. Almost done now." He smiled, hoping she doesn't pick up on his breathy response or his anxious tapping feet. Which she did, she just didn't want to point it out.

"Are you happy?" Behind her eyes was a door he couldn't open, hidden inside so well he would get lost if he tried to look for it.

"I am." She replied honestly, a smile matching her words as she dropped her gaze for a single moment to look at her screen, noticing the time.

"I should go. My break is almost over, but if you want to talk before moving to the next city, my number is still the same." She placed a hand over his gingerly, pulling it away just as quickly.

"Okay." He managed to say, watching her pick up her stuff before she left him in that booth.

And he wanted to see her again, to talk things through, to apologize. He wanted to hold her like he used to, feel her lips on his, but all he could give her is misery.

She moved on with her life, clearly not holding onto the past. She was the one that got away because he chased her away, but he wasn't her one. And he couldn't do that to his girlfriend either, especially since they were new and just starting out and all in the public eye.

So he closed his eyes, lowering his head as he made the decision.

"I won't let myself hurt her."

He deleted her number, as if he didn't know it by heart...as if his finger didn't hover over her contact for a year now, too afraid to call in case she still hated him.

"Anything else, sir?" The waitress came back, noticing the food is untouched. "Is something wrong with your order?" She inquired as Shawn shook his head, feeling his heart sink.

"Just saw my what if and it robbed me of my appetite."

"You should know that nothing is over until it's over...until someone is dead, they can be reached and things can be fixed." She advised, noticing a weak smile show kn his lips.

"Not this. Not if it means dragging someone you love into something that's bad for them." Shawn shrugged, feeling a hand clasp on his shoulder.

"You must really love that girl."

And he smiled, knowing it's still true. Perhaps it will always be there in his heart, the love he has for her. It's that very love he could never quite put into words even though it's the most real thing he's ever felt, even if he was masterful with words. She couldn't be described with words. He tried.

"You have no idea."

Tags: @accalialionheart @xalayx @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @ourlittleshawnie @esoltis280 @dolandolll @lanallaa

#shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Six, “I’ll Be Seeing You”

Links:

- *NEW* Check out the new character survey I filled out from Becky’s POV here!

- *NEW* Take a look at the new character survey I filled out from Harry’s POV here!

- All chapters can be found here!

- Inspo tag can be found here!

- Spotify playlist *updated often* can be listened to here!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 7.2k words

SNEAKYYYYYYYY PEEK

“I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two weeks with that teasing around in my head - the fact that I get to work with him every day for five days a week. A dream come true, in every way. I’m rather positive tonight will tide me over until next week when I have my orientation.

I have a good feeling for the first time in a while, so many of them actually.

“God, it’ll be weird going back to being boss and employee again. It was so much easier being just friends,” I remark jokingly, the song flowing from his lips mixing with that of my own.

“Eh,” Harry says, shrugging his broad shoulders covered in his long black peacoat. “Don’ think o’ it that way, Becks, we’re colleagues now, which ‘s even betta.”

Song Inspo: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday (click to listen and am I the only one thinking of The Notebook now?)

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning.” - T.S. Eliot

Confliction knits together in my stomach as I travel the halls on my way to work. Enthusiasm peeks through when I pass the several courtrooms on my way, imagining myself in them sat next to Harry, his co-counsel. No longer are there feelings of disdain and longing when I pass Courtroom #5, or the mailroom I so often hid inside the walls of. Disdain found its way back to me when I entered the door for Administration, my lousy desk calling for me from its corner. I somehow can’t seem to escape that character trait. Nonetheless, a smile stuck to my lips at times throughout the morning as I browsed new work outfits online during downtime.

The morning went by painfully slow as I waited to try and catch Sophie after her many meetings and phone calls. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure how I would survive two more weeks of the humdrum between these four walls with my new future teasing me. Not when something out of a dream had woven its way into my life now, getting to work with Harry as his mentee, and a second chance at all of it. A second chance I wasn’t going to waste this time.

“Hey, Sophie. Good morning, I was wondering if I could speak to you about something?” I ask her, finally finding the right moment as she walks by my desk after a meeting.

“Yes of course, love. I was just going to grab some tea, why don’t you join me?” she murmurs with a smile, waving her arm as a signal to follow her down the hallway to the nearby break room. “Does this have anything to do with the glowing recommendation I gave about you to a certain Mr. Styles yesterday?”

“Maybe,” I laugh softly, holding open the door for her.

“Did you get called back for another interview?!” she asks excitedly, her long maroon pants twirling around her legs when she turns to face me.

“Even better, I got the job!” I answer, matching her excitement easily. She lets out a yelp of joy before wrapping me in a hug.

“I’m so happy for you, love, even though I’ll be sad to see you go,” she hums, the heavy charm bracelet on her wrist brushing against my back.

“Thank you, I am too. It’s pretty bittersweet.”

“Yes, indeed. When will be your last day with us?” she inquires, patting my arm on her way to the electronic kettle she’s had her eyes on.

“The uh twenty-fifth officially, so I have two weeks left to help find a replacement and finish up my work.”

“Ah, that sounds right,” she mumbles as she removes a packet of tea from a box in the drawer, ginger tea.

“I was wondering if there is any chance that I’d be able to take a day off somewhere in there to complete some orientation for the uh, new job. If not, that’s of course okay. I just thought I’d ask, since sometimes I’m sent home early for the day or some days are slow,” I suggest nervously, clasping my hands together to keep myself from fidgeting too much.

“Of course. Hmmm, let me think,” she almost whispers, tapping her long pink fingernails against the counter while swirling the teabag in the steaming water. “I think next Friday would be fine, since those days are rather slow anyways. Does that work for you, love?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to uh, check with Mr. Styles about it to see if it works with him. You know, his cases and the like,” I respond uncertainly, toying with the dainty golden ring Skye got me for Christmas, an amethyst stone set into the middle.

“Is this Mr. Styles the former boss you spoke of?” she inquires, turning to face me with a grin budding on her lips. I’m unsure of what to say and so I nod my head, but I can tell by the look on her face that I’m not hiding my expressions very well either. “What’s that big smile for, huh, Becky?”

“Nothing,” I respond quickly, trying to save myself as I walk around, reaching into the cupboards for a mug.

“You haven’t been wearing that big smile for nothing, and it didn’t get five times brighter when I brought up his name for nothing either.”

Her name falls from my lips in a futile warning, marked by an accidental laugh. My name soon follows even though I try to ignore it as I inspect the tea drawer, packets ranging from peach, mint, ginger, green, wild berry, and even glazed lemon loaf. I indulge myself and finally try the sweet lemon one, smiling at the smell of the teabag.

“I don’t know how to put it into words,” I suffice, picking up the electric kettle, watching how the teabag reacts to the boiling water.

“Feelings are hard to put into words sometimes, aren’t they?” Sophie replies, somehow putting my confliction and doubt so easily into a phrase.

“Yeah, and they’re scary to admit.”

“That they are, love,” she tuts, her spoon clanging against the ceramic inside of the mug as she stirs honey into hers. “They’re even harder to admit when you have them for somebody . . Am I getting close?”

“Very,” I respond, jiggling the teabag in and out of the scalding liquid, feeling the tendrils of steam tickle my face.

“Answer me this, are you feeling better about going back to work for him?”

“Yes, very much so, until I start thinking about it too much,” I reveal softly, growing more comfortable telling her as the seconds pass, wishing it were this easy to tell him.

“If it’s in your plans, perhaps you should tell him what you told me, or start it off that way. He sounded rather fond of you over the phone, you should know. A very kind and attentive man, as well,” she murmurs sweetly, tapping her spoon on the lip of her mug a few times. “Whatever you decide to do, Becky, I wish you luck and I hope you’re happy. Why don’t you go give a ring to tell him about next Friday?”

“Thank you, Sophie, really. It means a lot to me,” I reply slowly, weight clinging to every word.

“Sure thing, love. Now go and make me proud and call him, so you don’t have to wait two weeks to see him.”

I just nod, a smile plastered all over my face as I pick up my tea and bring it with me, feeling her hand on my arm. Few people meander the halls as I join them until I find an empty bench tucked away in a private corner. After setting down the hot mug of tea on a windowsill, I can already feel my fingers trembling pulling my phone from my pocket. Once again, the numbers flow from my fingers effortlessly as I type in his number, but then I stop. I delete them and switch over to Recent Calls, hastily tapping Harry (work) before I lose my bravery. I suppose I should get used to calling this number, anyways, I conclude amongst my thoughts. As I listen to it ring, I debate whether to pick up the tea, but when I glance at the shakes consuming my fingers, I decide against it. They only come to shake harder and faster as I wait, and wait, and wait.

Suddenly the sound changes, but my ears are met with disappointment. “Hi, ya’ve reached tha office of Harry Styles here at Styles and Lawson. ‘m sorry I missed yer call due t’ bein’ out o’ tha office or in court. Please leave yer name and numba, and ‘ll return yer call as soon as I can,” his pre-recorded message trickles into my ears, the same cold one I’ve heard over and over again. I try to remember the last time I heard it, but it must have been years. Wow, years is a long time.

The beep comes out of nowhere and I’m stumbling over my words already, “Hi, Harry. This is Becky. If you could give me a call back when you get a chance, that would be great. I’ll try to answer, but I’m at work . . Talk to you soon, bye.”

Groaning, my fingers soon get caught in my hair anxiously. Taking a deep breath, I try to talk myself down and realize that this happens all of the time. He may be in a meeting, in the middle of a trial, on the phone with a client, out for the day- there are so many possibilities. They don’t soften the blow of wanting to hear his voice and not getting to. No, they can’t take that way or make up for the loss. Exhaling, I stand to my feet and go to reach for my tea, right as my phone begins to buzz in my pocket.

“Skye, if this is you calling in the middle of my shift again, or Robbie,” I mumble behind gritted teeth, blinking hard as I sit back down.

I don’t even glance at the name on my screen before answering it with a dreary ‘hello.’

“My goodness, don’ sound so happy t’ talk t’ me,” Harry rasps from the other side, his voice having a cooling effect on the hot frustration coursing through my body.

“I’m sorry, I-I am. I thought you were somebody else,” I reply, trying not to laugh, but it makes its way out.

“Ah I see, well that person ‘s in fer a bad time with you,” he titters, and I think I can almost picture it. His eyes crinkling, him doing that scrunchy nose thing, the light green speckles in his eyes sparkling, and him playing with his bottom lip. “So what’s up, Becks? I see ya left a message, but I didn’t listen, jus’ called ya back. Shouldn’t ya be workin’?” he teases, his tone changing to a cocktail of firm and teasing towards the end. My favorite sound. All of it, just it all.

“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, thinking back to what Sophie said, and trying to focus on only the day off. “I just spoke to my boss and she gave me next Friday off, so I can come and do my orientation that day with you. Would that work for you, Harry?”

“Ah, that’s very nice o’ her. She was very helpful and lovely when I spoke t’ her on tha phone yestaday. Ya, lemme pull up me calendar t’ see what I have goin’ on next Friday,” Harry responds warmly, distraction plaguing his voice quickly.

“Oh she was? She said you were very nice as well, and that she gave me, I quote ‘a glowing recommendation.’ So, what’d you two talk about?”

“None o’ yer business ‘s what. That’s fer me t’ know and fer you t’ not find out,” he quips with a laugh, typing and clicking appearing softly in his background. “Okay, Friday. Let’s see.”

“Harry,” I tease not so seriously, hearing a humored hum from him.

“Becks,” he echoes with an affable scoff. “Oh here, Friday. Ya, that should work fer you t’ c’min t’ do yer orientation. How does nine t’ five sound, bug?” he continues, clicking his tongue habitually, something I remember he does to help him to focus.

There’s that nickname again, Becky. That’s what, how many times he’s used it in the last two days?

Okay, you have a good point, but hush.

“Great! I mean, that sounds great. I’ll plan for nine am then, and will dinner and drinks work afterward too?” I question, feeling like I’m stepping further out on this limb that I’ve been climbing dangerously.

“Ummmmm,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue again absentmindedly. Somehow, even that is cute and it’s just so him, and it makes the missing him ache just a little bit more. “No, ‘m sorry, Becks. ‘m s’posed t’ go out t’ dinna with my sista at half-past five,” he reports solemnly, and that ache hits a little harder now.

“That’s okay,” I chirp, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. I feel like I do it pretty well, but I’ve never been the best at telling.

“No, we’ll figure out anotha day. We’ve put this off fer too long now- Okay, lemme look su’more,” he mumbles, and now I’m sure he’s playing with his bottom lip. And I’m also sure that this all couldn’t be better. I get to see him in less than two weeks, and now maybe sooner.

Yaaaaaaay!

Yipeeeeeee!

“I see, you’re just too busy for me, because you’re such a popular man,” I sigh dramatically feeling the teasing smile tug at my lips.

“I am not too busy fer you. ‘s jus’ a busy life bein’ a lawyer, so ya betta get ready fer it, Becks. And I dunno ‘bout bein’ popular, I jus’ think ‘s tha bloody New Years thing. All o’ these friends are comin’ outta tha woodwork, wantin’ t’ get drinks or dinna, saying oh ‘s been so long since I saw ya last blah blah. Ugh, ‘s ridiculous,” he drawls with a groan being the period to his sentence, and all I can do is laugh.

“You can say ‘no’, you do know that right?”

“‘Course I know, Becks, but I dunno, tha nostalgia kinda draws me in too. ‘s like oh maybe going to get drinks with Matt from uni would be fun, even tho’ he was a prick, but hey he threw those cool parties,” he explains, a chuckle soon devouring his words and then my ears. Oh, how I’ve missed that sound so dearly. “But no, you and I are gettin’ dinna and drinks. Hey, what’re ya doin’ t’night?”

“T-Tonight tonight? Um, nothing. I work until six, that’s all. Otherwise, you could probably find me sprawled out on the sofa watching FRIENDS or old reruns of Hell’s Kitchen after that,” I stutter, tripping over my words and more so the idea he just pitched, one that knocked me off my feet rather quickly and completely.

“Ooooo tha trashy shows,” he chuckles and I have to resist rolling my eyes.

“Hey, you watch them too!”

“Not Hell’s Kitchen, altho- wait, ya ‘ve watched it a few times, I admit,” he relents, earning a ‘ha!’ from me that pulls a laugh from his lips.

Oh, I could do this all day.

Soon you get to!

Okay, don’t remind me, because I can’t have another reason for these next two weeks to be pure torture.

“Harry watches trashy tv, hmmm,” I coo happily, that magical sound of his filling my ears again, and then my heart. “We should watch more of it together sometime. But yes, tonight would work. What are you thinking?”

“‘m really glad it finally worked out, and ya we will. Um, how ‘bout six-thirty, does that give ya enuff time?” he poses, and hastily my heart thrashes around in my chest with excitement, growing anxious at the thought of seeing him tonight. Thank, God, he said six-thirty so I can stop home and actually make myself look decent. I didn’t even try when I got up this morning.

“Yeah, six-thirty works. Where would you like to have dinner? Um, what about . . . tacos?”

“Tacos?” he chimes in at the same time as me, sending us both into a fit of contagious giggles. “Happy we’re already on tha same page with some stuff.”

“Me too . . So, tacos and we’ll find a pub somewhere for drinks?”

“Ya, I know a good place ‘ll take ya t’,” he rasps, a light coming through in his voice. I’m not sure if it’s my own internalized buzz of emotions, or if perhaps it’s his own showing through. “Shots and e’rythin,” he purs devilishly.

“No, Harry, no shots,” I giggle, unable to contain it for any longer.

“Yes, at least a few. That’s how ya celebrate, not with bloody margaritas, bug. I guess I have loads t’ teach ya ‘bout alcohol, I gotta turn ya onto sumthin’ otha than those bleedin’ wine coolers ya like. Those jus’ give ya gut rot and taste like candy, don’ do anythin’ fer a buzz,” he comments, that other side of him shining through now, more and more with every word he lets go.

“Oh boy, am I in for it with you, or what?” I exhale, happiness sticking to every breath.

“Yes indeed, ya are, Becks. Betta get ready fer some fun t’night,” he drawls, the honey sticking lazily to his deep voice.

“But you’re almost thirty, I thought old people can’t have fun, Harry?”

The groan lined with affable humor tells me what he’s thinking first, and then I hear him sigh, “Ya betta not start this again, ‘m yer boss again, y’know,” he snickers, feigning authority in his soft baritone.

“No, not for a week officially. Not yet. You’re just my friend right now,” I smile, thinking of Sophie when the feelings start to bleed through into my voice, piecing themselves together, although bittersweetly. I know I can’t handle being just friends, but every second more I’m starting to realize that oftentimes, friends has to come first before more. We have some catching up to do, that’s for sure.

“Alrighty then. Well, yer just friend has t’ go t’ a meetin’ now, and ‘s tellin’ ya that ya should prolly get back t’ work now too.”

“Wait, since when do you go to meetings? Are you trying to be a good role model for me or something? Aw, how nice of you!” I exclaim, almost confident of the surprise in my voice being genuine.

“Becks,” Harry laughs, the sound consuming his voice and playing in my ear, but not for long enough. God, that has to be my favorite song. “‘ll see ya t’night, love. Six-thirty,” he hums happily, and for once, I don’t have to wish for what he’s having, because I’m having it too. I feel it, the bubbly hope that could drown me in a moment. I want to let it, and I decide to.

“Bye, Harry. Have a good day, I’m excited to see you.”

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ it too, bug. Bye,” he croons, and I hope he can hear the smile in my voice, because I can see his already. I think his is filled with hope too.

It’s a miracle that I didn’t spill my tea as I walked back into the admin office, although it may have been a different story if I hadn’t taken that few minute breather to recover. I was even more surprised when tears of joy didn’t leave my eyes when I shared the new development with Sophie during my lunch break. Although I previously thought it was impossible, my excitement for later tonight only grew when I told her about it, and we both freaked out about it. I really do think I will miss her, she was perhaps one of the best bosses I’ve ever had.

Waiting at my desk for the time to pass, I still can’t believe that later tonight I get to go and have dinner and drinks with my favorite boss of all time.

Low and behold, searching my closet for something to wear later that night seems next to impossible. Each full hanger that I pass feels like it takes with it a precious minute of my time. After trying on and tossing aside three other outfits, I finally decided on one. Luckily, redoing my morning routine doesn’t take very long, and I soon have minty fresh breath and clean skin again. At the last minute, I decide to ditch the heavy makeup, and leave it minimal. I slide my violet peacoat over the striped maroon sweater and dark jeans, and my brown chelsea boots soon enter the snow.

The smell of tortillas, peppers, and chili powder hits me in the face when the bell tinkles above my head on the door. Voices buzz around the inside of Pedro’s, a local Mexican restaurant I haven’t been to in well, years. That thought comes to me as a shock as I look around, and finally spot the reason for my absence, sitting at the same table in the right corner we’d always claim. I linger there by the door for a few moments, admiring him as he stares at his phone intensely. Unsurprisingly, I find it adorable how he toys with his bottom lip between his two fingers and jiggles his leg resting on the chair’s rung. A warmth grows in my chest at the sight of him, and a combination of excitement and relief builds with every step I take closer to him. I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt it escape me with every step I’ve put between us, and finally now I’m returning to him.

The red and white menu is glossy between my hands, and sticky in some places when I take a seat across from him. I don’t let a word slip and only focus on the menu, despite his green eyes waiting for me silently.

“Yer late, y’know. Not makin’ a very good impression with yer boss, are we?” Harry comments, pulling back the scarlet fabric of his button down to tap his watch.

The menu falls with a feathery sound to the table when I belatedly make eye contact with him. I try to resist the feelings that tug at my lips when I watch the corners of his curl.

“Hush, it’s six thirty-four. The traffic was horrid, and it’s after hours, boss. And, I haven’t even started working for you again yet,” I chuckle, savoring the way the dimples fall into his cheeks effortlessly, not there a second ago. He seems to relent, shoving his phone away in his pocket, his eyes lifting to mine again.

“How was yer day then?”

“It was a typical boring Friday. How was yours?” I reply, resting my hands on top of each other and mindlessly letting my fingers dance atop each other.

“‘Bout tha same. ‘m tryna find a new case, but now I gotta keep you in mind. I gotta rememba ya’ll be workin’ with me in two weeks, so I gotta do stuff like clean my bloody office and be mo’ stringent when pickin’ cases ,” he titters, touching his pointer finger to his head as I try not to lose myself in his mossy green eyes.

At the sound of his words, I find it even harder not to. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two weeks with that teasing around in my head - the fact that I get to work with him every day for five days a week. A dream come true, in every way. I’m rather positive tonight will tide me over until next week when I have my orientation.

I have a good feeling for the first time in a while, so many of them actually.

“God, it’ll be weird going back to being boss and employee again. It was so much easier being just friends,” I remark jokingly, the song flowing from his lips mixing with that of my own.

“Eh,” Harry says, shrugging his broad shoulders covered in a thick black Northface coat. “Don’ think o’ it that way, Becks, we’re colleagues now, which ‘s even betta.”

“Sure. ‘Associate and partner’ and ‘mentor and mentee’ don’t really sound that way, but okay. It’s not like you have almost ten years of experience over me, or anything.”

“Well ya, that’s what happens when yer tha new fish in tha pond, it happens t’ us all. Ya jus’ gotta climb tha ladder one step atta time, love,” he replies, the dimple in one of his cheeks finding a permanent residence there.

“Fish can’t climb ladders, silly. And I know, but it’s odd to think that you’re only three years older than me, and have so much experience in law when I’m just starting. I guess that’s why you don’t putz around like me,” I note, drawn in by him randomly sliding a plain silver ring with a black line in the middle, up and down his left middle finger.

“Wait, what was that, ‘m only how many years older than you? I didn’t catch that,” he teases, cupping his hand around the outside of his ear, inching his neck towards me with the funniest look on his face.

The only response I give him is the old stink eye which almost makes a laugh explode from his lips.

“Ya betta watch those ‘old jokes’ y’know. I have power ova you ‘gain, Becks,” he quips, wiggling his eyebrows at me while he does the worst impression of an evil laugh.

I’m waiting for him to start choking on it so then I can finally laugh.

His words try to propel me back to the times when I would take his words seriously, but I don’t dare go there. I can’t do that again after all of our random visits earlier this year, and how much they changed everything, including assuring me that he’ll never be that douchey boss to me again.

“Oh yeah!” I exclaim, something sparking inside of my brain. “You’re almost thirty! Ooooo, my prime joke time is coming up,” I squeal with a devilish laugh, rubbing my hands together as he shakes his head disapprovingly, although with reddening cheeks. My name leaves his lips in a breathy giggle as those dimples peek out from his cheeks, saying hi to me.

“By tha way,” he begins once he recovers and has the bravery to look back at me. “‘m already sick o’ you, so you’ll be working with Myles fer tha week o’ February fourth. I have a case in Glasgow that entire week. Plus, he has an interesting case in Family Court that you should really see, it’ll be interesting.”

“Oh lovely, you’re already tired of me and passing me off to somebody else,” I groan, some dramatics playing in my voice, but not entirely.

I wish I had a drink already so I could twirl my straw in it absently, trying to hide my heart-crushing disappointment. I remember he had said sometimes I may work with Myles or Rose for a case if there was something better elsewhere, but I didn’t think it’d be almost as soon as I started. Talk about anti-climatic, I ponder silently while my eyes stay glued to the menu, even though I’m not reading any words. There are too many whizzing around in my head for that to happen.

“Stop it, you pout,” he teases, his hand ruffling my hair. I look up and do my best pout, puppy dog eyes, bottom lip sticking out and all. “‘m sorry t’ break yer heart, but ‘s fer yer best interest, Becks. ‘ve had tha case set up a while, which happens, and ‘ll already have started on it by tha time ya start, but you’ll still be able t’ help me. Myles’ case ‘s far mo’ interestin’ and you’ll learn loads from him. What, has sumbody missed me?” Harry hums, a hand dancing along my arm until it arrives at the crook of my neck where it touches my tickle spot. I squirm and jerk away from his ticklish touch, whimpering in annoyance. “C’mon, pout, let’s go and order.”

I slide off of the hightop red barstool, following him to the counter begrudgingly and slowly. I mumble a question to him about what we’re getting and he automatically tells me that we’re getting the usual, as if there was another option. We get stuck waiting in a line and when Harry looks over to me, I play the pout extra hard.

“What’re you still poutin’ ‘bout, Becks?”

“You’re passing me to Myles my second week back,” I whimper, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Oh stop it, you’ll be fine. He likes you and he’s easy t’ get on with.”

“No fair,” I reply, looking away as the disappointment worsens inside of me. I know I’m being selfish, but I just want him all to myself. I figure that’s not too much to ask after everything that’s happened, but apparently it is. “I’m supposed to be your mentee, and I hardly get to work with you my first week there.”

“Oh, baby Becks, you’ll do jus’ fine, love. My case ‘s incredibly boring, and tha travellin’ wouldn’t be any fun. I know you’ll miss me, that’s tha real reason yer sad,” he cracks, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side. The sudden wave of his woodsy-vanilla scent conflicts me as does the utterly adorable nickname he used. I want to stay there snuggled against his warm side, but at the same time, I want to pull away to prove my point. By now, I’m not sure how much of my pouting is dramatics or just the plain truth. I have to wait two weeks to work at the firm, just to be passed to Myles within five days. It’s discouraging to think about when my thoughts have been consumed by him in just the last few days, and I haven’t looked forward to something this much in a while.

“Hmmmph,” I respond, sufficing with turning away and not looking at him. I find it difficult to not think about what it would be like travelling with him for a case. My thoughts consist of those like sitting beside each other on a plane, hotel rooms, and sharing a car. Sure, Harry, you say it wouldn’t be any fun, but I’d beg to differ there, sir.

“Hey, don’t be that way with me. Ya still get t’ help me with it fer tha first week, and then ‘m all yers when I get back. Sound good?” he murmurs, rubbing his hand along my shoulder as he presses me to his side again.

“Fine, only because you’re hard to stay mad at,” I respond with a sigh, soon hearing his melodic giggle that helps to weed away the disappointment wreaking havoc inside of me.

“Good, coz ‘s only five days, bug,” he hums gently. The closer I am to him, the more I wish he would kiss the top of my head, like he used to do. Ugh. “Ya think ya can survive without me fer that long?”

“Yeah,” I tell him automatically, but quickly I’m unsure of that. I don’t know how well I’ll do with the tease of getting to work with him for a few days, and then having him leave again after that, if only for a few days. This is all turning out to be full of teases with my visits with him being peppered amongst the next few weeks. “It’s right after your birthday.”

“Ya, happy birthday t’ me on that one,” he exhales, but I hear the smile even if I don’t see it right away. My sudden sadness is forgotten when ideas blossom inside my head of what to get him for his birthday, as he squeezes my shoulder. It’s also hard to ignore the fact that his arm is still around me, and the all consuming fact of never wanting it to leave.

Soon, the line moves and with it, his arm falls from around me when Harry steps up to order for us. I make him take the plastic cups to fill up our drinks after I get my card out first to pay, him shaking his head as he waddles over to the soda machine.

“If you’re going to be all sad about it, then you can pay for drinks, as long as it doesn’t get too expensive,” I tell him, listening to the whoosh of the orange liquid pouring into my cup.

“‘ll pay fer all o’ ‘em, cheap or not,” Harry hums confidently, bumping shoulders with me softly on his way back to our table.

We both slide off our coats to hang over the back of our chairs, and the chatter of other customers fills my ears as we sip at our drinks. My eyes quickly wander to the scarlet button up fastened just high enough to show his silver cross necklace, black floral designs covering the fabric. It pains me to look away from the thick dark brown chest hair blooming below the cross charm, unsure of when it was the last time I saw that.

“So, what have ya been up t’ since June?” he remarks, replacing the clear plastic straw between his cherry lips. I find it difficult to tear my eyes away to ruminate on his question enough to answer it without sounding stupid.

“Um, pretty much just uni and working.”

“Oh ya, bloody hell ‘m dumb, ya jus’ graduated. How was it all? I wanna hear all ‘bout it, Becks - tha good, tha bad, and tha ugly,” he continues, warmth filling his lips as his green eyes stare back at mine. Sometimes the rawness inside of them is too much to handle and they take my breath away, every glint of gold and green in them. I’m not sure if you really know what you’re signing up for there, bud.

“There’s not really much to say you haven’t heard before, or well, experienced yourself during your degree. It sucked at times, the Bar was awful although I feel like the worrying was worse than the exam, and I’m just really glad to be done and to finally have found a job. And, graduation was pretty gratifying,” I recall aloud to him, savoring how he devotes every second of his attention to me and what I’m saying. It’s both lovely and nerve wracking at the same time, especially as a thought pops into my head. I wish he could’ve been there in the stands, watching me walk the line, and hugging me afterwards. I wish . .

“Ya, sounds ‘bout right. ‘m sorry ya didn’t have tha best experience, bug, but hey like ya said, ‘s ova. Onto bigga and betta things, like they say,” he smiles, and I swear it sparks something inside of my heart that has begun to return in the last couple of days. Something I’m finally ready to feel again. “Where’d ya do yer clinicals at and how’d they go this last Fall?”

“You’re right, and I did them at Turner and Jones over on the east side. They went well, but it was hard at times. It was a whole new place, and instead of sitting at a desk every day listening to lectures or doing assignments online, I was in the thick of it every day. I worked with just about all of their six lawyers there, and got to argue my first case with their help. I even won it, which was hard to believe. They were pretty great, and at the time I was sad I wasn’t able to find a job there, but now I’ve found my way back to you.”

The way his lips curl up into his cheeks that round out from the expression feels good and hurts at the same time. It chips away at the wall around my heart that’s slowly been cracking ever since I laid eyes upon him again yesterday morning.

“Bloody hell, ya make me mo’ and mo’ proud o’ you, y’know that? Great job, love . . That’s quite tha trek e’ry day t’ be drivin’ from tha west side ova t’ Turner’s. I bet yer glad t’ be done with that. ‘ve heard good things ‘bout ‘em, and a friend o’ mine even works there. I mean, ‘ve come up against many o’ em in my time in cases, but I respect ‘em,” he muses to me, stealing my idea to twirl the straw around in his ice chips and Coke. I feel the cracking of the barrier inside of my chest as his smile glows brighter in front of my eyes. It’s poised right at me. “Ya, funny how that works, huh? Kinda, ‘circle o’ life’ or sumthin, huh?” I mumble a confirmation, but the rest of my words are whisked away when his name is called from the counter where he escapes to.

“I can’t believe n’body else was hirin’, that’s mad,” he notes, setting down the red plastic tray that hits the table heavily with wrapped food. “I can’t complain tho’, got tha best new associate I could ask fer.” Words escape me and leave a hot smile on my face as I pick up a hard-shelled taco, gratefulness etched into the lines of my lips. Boy, is he dreamy in so many goddamn ways.

“What was your life like uh, recently?”

“Crazy busy, I was filled up tha arse with cases. I was in Scotland fer prolly a few weeks total, up in Edinburgh, Glasgow, then Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, and all ova London,” he answers, crinkling of the paper wrapper accenting his words. A pause follows his reply as he chews a bite of his soft-shelled taco, two more on the tray in front of him. The smells of cheese, queso, freshly fried tortilla chips, and the sweet churros make my taco taste one hundred times better. The nostalgia and absence only makes each bite taste better than the last. “I became an uncle again a few weeks ago, so that’s been pretty exciting. My sister, Gemma, had a li’l boy afta Christmas. Harper’s ova tha moon ‘bout him, his name ‘s Oliver or they call him Ollie.”

“Awwww, Harry, that’s so awesome! Babies are so much fun! How old is Harper now? I don’t think I’ve met her before, but I’ve heard loads. You should have your sister stop by the firm one day, I’d love to meet them!”

“Ya, ‘course. ‘m sure they’d love t’ meet ya too, all three o’ ‘em. Speakin’ of, Harper will be four soon. It blows me mind,” he giggles, eyes drowning in the steaming container of queso he plunges a chip into with fingernails coated in pink polish.

“What else, Mr. Lawyer?” I inquire simply, realizing my fault when he looks at me with confusion screwing up his features, chewing the cheesy chip noisily. “What else have you been up to besides work? Like, did you have a fun summer?”

“Ya, I reckon. I took my mum onn’a holiday down south, that was loads o’ fun. I had some good days at tha beach with Rory, who you’ll meet soon, he’s anotha one o’ me colleagues. He came t’ work at tha firm afta you had left, but ‘ve known him since uni. He’s prolly one o’ me best friends, that bloody idiot, but he’s loads o’ fun,” he responds, reaching for another chip and I take his lead, holding back a moan at the long forgotten taste of Pedro’s homemade queso. The enjoyment spills out of me when I spot the weary look stealing the happiness from Harry’s features as he zones out staring at the table.

“What’s wrong, was it not the best summer ever?” I ask jokingly although softly, and as soon as the words fly from my mouth, I think I regret them for a few reasons.

He hums an amused sound, tapping his finger against the side of his half eaten taco before his rosey pink lips part, “It was good, but it wasn’t tha best, by any means. I uh, dated this girl fer a bit, but it didn’t go anywhere. I mean, she was nice and pretty, but it was a mistake o’ sorts. I thought it’d make me happy datin’ her, but it didn’t,” he recalls sadly.

At the first words about her, my eyes fall and I can look at him no longer, instead drawing shapes in the queso with my chip. I want to eat it, but a tight queasiness knits together in my stomach, and I wait for it to pass. I wait for him to stop talking about her, and for me to stop caring as the confliction runs deep within my bones. I can’t decide if I’m grateful or seething to hear the words that spill from his mouth. They bring me back to the summer from hell and also answers so many questions I’ve had.

Girl, don’t even go there.

Stay positive!

Angel’s right, did you not hear how he said it wasn’t right for him? About how it was a mistake? Not to mention, that he wasn’t happy?

Okay, you have some good points.

No shit, Sherlock.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, bringing the chips to my lips.

“Oh, ‘s fine, Becks. It was months ago, and ‘m ova it. Guess ‘m jus’ glad I realized early on it wasn’t workin’ fer me.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” I say softly, warm cheese and soft peppers tickling my tongue as many other words wish to do the rest. His revelation tries to sink underneath my skin, but I try to brush it away instead, not sure of what to do with it. I’m feeling both sides of the emotional spectrum at the mere mention of his relationship with her. I don’t know how to feel about it, and I don’t want to have to decide.

“How ‘bout you, did ya meet anybody ova tha summer or I guess, tha fall?” Harry queries lightheartedly, and the surprise of it all pulls my eyes to his. The hints of anger left over from his confession melt away at the care I find in his eyes. Another feeling trickles in when for a second, I think I see an anxiousness hiding in the shallows.

“God, no. Working, clinicals, and the Bar were more than enough for me. Skye’s the only person I really need,” I respond immediately, surprised at his question, although mutual. My word vomit seems to be biting me in the ass already, and quickly I wish I hadn’t phrased it that way. No, not when I want him to be my person. “What I mean is she’s my bestest friend besides Robbie, but nah, I don’t have much luck with guys.”

I blink hard with hot cheeks as I finish my first taco and hastily grab another one, hunger and embarrassment fueling my actions. The shell is crunchy and anything but soggy between my lips, and the spicy signature sour cream is warm against my tongue as the cheese melts with every bite.

“Sounds like we both got shit luck with love, huh?” Harry sighs, shaking his head as he grabs another taco.

“Yep, it’s the worst,” I agree aloud after taking a sip of my soda, which turns out to be more noisy than I thought it would be.

Thank God it’s empty so I can go and fill it up and escape this awkward fest, but at the same time there are so many words threatening to spill from my lips. They all basically revolve around the fact that I don’t care if I have shit luck with love, as long as my luck finally turns around for him, belatedly.

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teefa85 · 4 years

Text

Ah, well, I think I’ll post this fic before I forget. I realized that, in my first team (which is the only one I seem to have inspiration for I swear!), the trio of characters all lost their mothers. Kevin and Riesz both are motivated somewhat by their lost mothers (with Kevin thinking he can find her since Gauser lied about her death and Riesz raises Elliot for the sake of her late mother). Meanwhile, considering that convo of Hawkeye’s I posted the other day, he might have some hangups over being an orphan himself. Yeah, I wrote this before learning of that fact, but it was still something I was going to use in some Hurt/Comfort scenario that I’d yet to figure out so I included it!

I did debate whether Riesz should know Gauser’s name, as Kevin just calls him “King” all the time, but as my other fic has established Alma told her some stories of the Heroes events I figured she might have mentioned that.

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Riesz leaned over the railings, looking below at the citizens of Palo. The children were running and laughing as they played tag, just happy that the scary bad guys had gone away. One little girl, who had been injured in the initial invasion, was a bit slower than the rest, however she was no less joyous than her peers.

‘Children really are resilient,’ mused the Amazon princess. ‘I hope Elliot is okay…wherever those fiends have taken him…’

Just then, the little girl’s mother called her in for dinner. She turned back to her friends, giving them a goodbye before running back to her home. Her mother hugged her, full of relief to know that her child was healthy once more.

“What are you watching?” asked a cheerful male voice.

Riesz turned around and saw both Hawkeye and Kevin walking up to her. The latter was holding several skewers of fish, one of which had a huge bite taken out of it. He offered one to each of his companions, which they readily took. As Riesz leaned against the wall, enjoying her food, she saw Hawkeye move to stand on her right and Kevin to her left.

“Well?” her thief friend continued. “What were you watching?”

She stated, “The children of town. I’m just happy we were able to bring smiles back to their faces. Sure, it was important for me to retake Laurent as its princess. But it was even more important to protect the people from whatever Belladonna was planning.”

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes. Seeing what that woman did in Nevarl, and with what Niccolo told us, there’s no denying she’s pure evil! I’m happy we at least got her out of your home.”

“And we’ll make sure to save yours as well,” added Riesz.

He thanked her, then took a look over the railing himself. The other kids were now all running along home as well, laughing as they went. Some were giving their mothers large hugs, others trying to play it cool but clearly happy that she was around. The young thief felt a pang of loneliness, tinged with the blurry images of a woman he could not quite remember…

“Is that what a mother is like?” questioned Kevin as he too looked down. “I don’t remember mine. Left, when I was just a baby.”

His words shocked Riesz. “What? Oh, Kevin! I didn’t know…”

“King must have made her flee. But…don’t know why,” was the young beastman’s reply.

She didn’t pry further on that, having already been told of how strict Beast King Gauser was with his young son. If Kevin was told his mother fled, it was no surprise he believed it to be his father’s fault. But as she had no knowledge of that situation herself, Riesz decided to not try and speculate further. All she could do was offer support.

“Well, a good mother is kind and gentle to her children,” Riesz told him. “She’s patient with their problems, and always willing to listen. She’ll teach them whatever she knows and is happy when her children are healthy and strong.”

Though, at the same time, she had to wonder if she had been that way with Elliot, or if she had made mistakes along the way. Would having been a better mother had kept him from being tricked into turning off Laurent’s wind? What would her mother say about the job she’d done…?

Kevin stated, “I wonder…did Mother want to bring me? Did King prevent her from doing it?”

While she had no idea if that were true or not, Riesz told him, “I believe she would have brought you if she could. After all, you are a kind and gentle individual despite the world you were born into. Your mother’s love must have affected you, even if you cannot remember her…”

Hawkeye was half listening as he stared out across the ocean before them. ‘A mother’s love, eh? I wonder…what was mine like? Is there any of her in me…?’

It seemed Riesz had noticed the pensive look on his face as she reached out to put a gentle hand upon his shoulder. Hawkeye looked at her and gave a small smile. Riesz just had this way of calming people down with her kind heart. Not only that, but she was a mighty warrior, stronger than many of the men he’d known in Nevarl!

“Do you have a mother, Hawkeye?” asked Kevin in a curious voice.

He shook his head. “Not that I can remember…my folks died when I was really little. All I know was that Lord Flamekhan found me and took me in shortly after. He never gave me any details about what happened to them or why he was in the area…”

“I’m sorry…,” whispered Riesz.

The young thief told her that it was okay. That he was used to not having a mother, so it didn’t bother him that much. However, despite those words, his voice was a bit less upbeat than usual. Even Kevin, whose feral upbringing left him not the best with people, could tell that Hawkeye was not being honest about his words.

Riesz knew arguing with him would be pointless. Maybe he really was fine, but the atmosphere was making him seem sad instead. Maybe pretending it was all okay was just how Hawkeye coped with his feelings. If that were the case…she could relate. There were a number of times she had to hold on to a positive attitude when a reminder of Queen Minerva had come up. And there were some years she had trouble getting through Elliot’s birthday without tears…

“I lost my mother young too,” she finally admitted. “She died bearing my brother…” With those words, she held up her left wrist to show them her ribbon. “This is a precious keepsake that she left me, along with the duty of caring for Elliot…”

Kevin asked, “So, it doesn’t hurt any less when you knew her?”

“No, it just means that instead of questions, I have memories that were once happy but now make me sad to think about,” was her reply.

Kevin paused for a slight moment, as if to process her words. But then suddenly brought both of his friends in a large hug! It happened so fast that Riesz ended up hitting her head on Hawkeye’s upper torso! Not that hard, thankfully. But it was still enough to dye her face red!

“We’re alike,” Kevin exclaimed. “We may not have mothers, but we have each other! We support each other in this.”

A small laugh escaped Hawkeye’s mouth. His friend sure had a positive outlook on life, despite what a harsh environment he must have grown up in. Then again…that wasn’t so different from Hawkeye himself when he thought a bit deeper.

For Riesz, however, the thought of others who she could open up to about her feelings was liberating. She never wanted to burden her father, who also missed his late wife greatly. Nor could she talk to Elliot out of fear of making him feel guilty for her death, even though it was not his fault. But with her friends, she felt she had people who could understand…

“Maybe this is a conversation better left for the privacy of the Inn,” she told the two. “After all, who knows who could be listening in out in the open…?”

Kevin released the other two from the hug, and Riesz took both boys’ hands. They needed a good night’s rest before sailing back to Beiser. They would have plenty of time to talk then, as well as when they were on the ship itself.

#trials of mana #fanfiction #don't worry hawkeye...you are very much like your ma

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vivxwrites · 5 years

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Guardian Angel || Part IV

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1690

Summary: I think you know the deal by now

Warnings: Weirdly dark (I think that’s all)

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: Here’s part four, hope you all enjoy!!

Parts: {I}, {II}, {III}, {IV}, {V}

‘Where to start, where to start,’ you tapped your chin and wracked your brain. ‘Eh, the beginning will suffice.’ You cleared your throat and began, “I’m not too sure what you humans would call my type but up in heaven we are known as ‘Guardian Angels’. I don’t know how long we’ve been around, but we are tasked with protecting humans from the dark realm and ensuring that each person follows along the life course that is set for them. Each of us is with a certain mark from birth till death, stepping in only when it is vital for us to do so.”

He took in the information, processing it and storing it away for later. He would be lying if he said it hadn’t peaked his curiosity .“What happens when your mark dies?”

The answer slipped right off of your tongue, “We get a new one.”

“Just like that?” He was shocked, but you nodded. “Ok, what do you mean by ‘the life course that is set for them’?”

You furrowed your brow line but answered anyway, “Each person has a predetermined life, one that we are designated to ensure is fulfilled.”

His eyes widened at your statement, “You’re telling me that I didn’t choose this life, that it was chosen for me?”

“Yeah that’s what I just said.”

“I call bullshit on that. I chose this life for myself.” You shook your head and sighed, humans. “Do you have any abilities?” His face had hardened into a more serious expression after he had asked his last question.

You cocked your head to the side in question, “Abilities?”

Fury sighed, “Can you do anything special? Anything that a human would not be able to do?”

“Oh but of course. We Guardian Angels are a much more advanced species.” Fury rolled his eyes at you but you didn’t notice. “I can speak telepathically and influence one’s mind to do whatever I please. I used to be invisible to the human eye, though I guess that is no longer true. I am invulnerable to most things, the only way I can really be hurt is if something is laced with silver.” You rubbed your temple in thought, knowing there was something you were forgetting. “Oh! I can also fly.” You gestured proudly to the damaged wings on your back.

“So basically an overpowered Wanda?” Fury chuckled to himself at his joke, it going right over your head.

“What is a Wanda?” In all of your time in Earth realm you had never heard of a “Wanda” before.

Fury waved a hand, dismissing your question. “Don’t worry about it.” He paused, “You have a name?”

“Oh yeah! (Y/N) (Y/L/N), pleased to meet you.” You flicked your hand out and grasped his, finding and holding eye contact, staring deep into his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Fury gave you a weird look, similar to the one that Monica had given you when you had first crashed through her ceiling.

You quirked a brow at him, “Is this not how humans greet each other? I have been practicing for an occasion such as this one.”

Fury only gawked at you and pulled his hand from your grasp. His gaze hardened suddenly. “Another question for you. Last year a friend of mine lost someone dear to them. The circumstances weren’t normal, a demon of sorts appeared and she got hit. If you’re supposed to protect humans from this so called “dark realm,” where were either of their guardian angels?”

You paled and hoped that your face would not betray you, he was most certainly talking about the incident with Carol’s girlfriend last year, one that was entirely your fault. It spiraled much too quickly and you let yourself become distracted, the entire situation one that you still feel entirely guilty for. “I’m not too sure.” You spoke meekly, but Fury must have chalked your tone up to something else, because he didn’t question you on the subject any further.

“I’ve got one final question for you. How do you know who I am, and Maria Rambeau too?”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, fiddling with your hands as you went. You gave him a tight smile, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“You sure about that?” It was his turn to quirk an eyebrow as he waved his hands throughout the cell, reminding you of your imprisonment.

You nervously nibbled on your lip and clenched and unclenched your hands. After a little debate, you settle on revealing as little information as possible, “My mark is familiar with the pair of you.”

“What do you mean by familiar?” His lips drew a tight line as he interrogated you.

You shook your head from side to side and crossed your arms. “I can say no more.” Fury gave a tight, little nod, he would just have to accept your answer.

All of a sudden a sharp searing pain scratched down your back and you let loose a violent scream. Your knees buckled below you and the pain had weakened you enough to bring you to the floor entirely. You hissed and writhed in pain, Fury’s shouts going unanswered as your ears rang with a high pitched frequency. The ringing stopped and the room shifted around you, the walls disappearing as the shocking white color of heaven’s skies appeared in front of you. Your body was paralyzed and you had no choice but to stare confusedly at the sky above you, watching as angels rushed all about, handling their daily tasks. Your eyes felt heavy, the various sights almost hypnotizing to watch, your ears were oddly hypersensitive and you picked up the quiet-as-a-mouse sound of light footsteps moving towards you.

“Guardian Angel #564, you fell in love with a mark, an action that is highly forbidden and leads to immediate removal from the Realm of Heaven.” Stan, you recognized the voice, though you could not see him anywhere and your head was stuck staring skyward. “Now 564, you were one of our most elite angels, so I was willing to bend the rules for you. I have been keeping a keen eye on you, monitoring your movements in Earth realm and I have to say it was quite shocking to overhear you telling that man our business. And to think I was going to allow you reentry once you were able to see how brattish humans are and learned your lesson. How foolish of me.”

You paled when you realized that Stan had listened in on your conversation with Fury. You heard Stan step closer to you and you could feel his very presence right beside you. A hand gripped your chin harshly and yanked your head in their direction. Tears pricked your eyes at the harsh action and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “Do you know what happens to angels in Earth realm?” You opened your mouth to reply but he tightened his grip on you and clicked his tongue, “Nod only. I do not want to hear you speak, understand?” You nodded your head as much as you could in his grasp and he hummed. “564, do you know what happens to angels in Earth realm?” You shake your head ‘no’ and he chuckles, bemused with your answer.

“Do you remember when I said that I was willing to bend the rules for you?” You nodded and he continued, “I was going to allow your wings to fall off slowly, painlessly, until you were able to learn your lesson and return. As that is no longer the case, you are going to face the real punishment, however I’ve decided to up the ante and give it to you tenfold for your betrayal.”

Your eyes widened and your body shook with fear, tears falling freely from your eyes. You shook your head from side to side vigorously and though you couldn’t see him, you felt Stan smirk widely. “Good you are afraid, as you should be. I can’t believe I didn’t see the human in you from the beginning.”

Your bottom lip trembled furiously and a strangled cry of “please” left your mouth.

“I thought I told you not to talk,” Stan growled. Your sobs grew in volume at his words. “Weak, you are weak 564. Enjoy the pain of the stripping of your wings.” With a snapping sound your vision blurred and the air around you morphed once more, back into the glass cell with Fury.

The searing pain returned tenfold, just as Stan promised, and you screamed intensely. Your voice was slowly turning hoarse as your screams continued and your throat turned raw with overuse. You rolled around on the ground, trying desperately to escape the pain, to no avail. Fury pinned your arms to your sides and held you down, “What the hell is going on?”

You gasped for air and fought to speak in between screams, eventually getting out a broken, garbled “help.”

Before Fury could get out a proper response, Carol and Maria burst into the room, both panting. Carol looked wildly around the room until her eyes fell on you, still screaming. Her eyes widened and she looked from you to Fury, confused. “Danvers, are you back?”

Fury glanced towards Maria and she shrugged her shoulders at him. “I- I don’t know, we heard screaming and we came as fast as we could. Is she ok?” Carol’s voice was soft and full of concern, Fury guessed she was almost fully present at best.

“I don’t know. One second she was fine but the next she was screaming into next Saturday.” The three traded glances and focused their gazes on you. You were still screaming, although the sound had warped and dulled down, a result of your now raw, scratchy throat.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent approached the group, a look of concern etched onto his features at your screaming. “Director Fury, sorry to interrupt but we’ve just received an emergency signal from the skrulls. Immediate backup is requested.”

Fury cursed under his breath, “Danvers, you think you can suit up?”

A/N: Um, so I don’t know what came over me while writing this but I hope it doesn’t give anyone nightmares or anything. Anyways, there it is :0. Up next, probs another Nat fic then part 2 of my other series, or vice versa. Chow, Viv :)

Guardian Angel Tag List: @vxidnik @envy-adamss @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @worlds-in-words @justarandomhumanhere @letalexaplaydespacito @natblidaclexa @skyella01

Permanent Tag List: @aesthetiff @autumnjackson4 @captainwonderwidow @5aftermidnight @gigglygwil @fansanctuary @lesbian-x-blackwidow @taramitch96

P.S. Want to join the tag list gang? All you have to do is ask! Make sure to specify which one, just so I can make sure to add you for my future fics :)

[NEXT]

#guardian angel series #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers imagine

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 29: Fear in Finery

Chapters: 29/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), On The Road, Horse With A Side Of Extra Horse, Shut Up Todd, Summary: You're having second thoughts about sitting in a courtroom with a man who tried to murder you, no matter how many gods are between you.

You were absolutely, completely, off your head drunk; a condition for which Loki was solely to blame.

“No work today.” He had said. “We must speak with lawyers, and that is work enough.”

He's been right. You had thought about teasing him for his perceived laziness: imagine calling off all your princely duties, just because you had to talk to someone!

But talking to the lawyers was excruciating. They were frighteningly serious, determined to get every last bit of information out of you, calm, cold, and unsympathetic. They had to be; it was an important part of their job. You didn't blame them for it, but having to re-live the experience two separate times-one for the prosecuting lawyer and another for the defending-was exhausting.

They hadn't let you and Loki be in the same room while they were asking their questions, leaving him irritable, and you an anxiety-riddled mess by the end of it all. The sticky honey buns you had made that morning hadn't stayed with you, and so, after they lawyers had satisfied themselves and left, he had whisked you away to one of the little private dining rooms to the side of the banquet hall, and ordered a lot of food, a lot of drink, and one of Beli's apprentices to provide music.

Loki himself had served you, in a reversal of his usual role. And you had allowed him, and now you were totally drunk.

He'd served you something he called 'crystal mead'; a sparkling, bubbly drink that changed color depending on how the light hit it.

“This is very young.” He had said. “So it should not be too potent for you.” It was so delicious, that you couldn't seem to stop drinking it, and even the food had not saved you from drunkenness.

You swayed to the music, unfamiliar but beautiful, trying to hum along. You thought you were doing pretty well, but Loki snickered every time you tried.

“It appears you have proven me wrong, my dear. Be proud. Precious few have ever done so.”

“Ooohhh, I'm Loki, and I'm soooo smart, and never wrong!” You snarked thoughtlessly. “I'm sooo strong, and soo handsome, and I've got everything under control.”

Loki grinned widely. “Your accent is off. If you are to impersonate me, you will need more practice. Tell me more about how handsome I am.”

“You hush! You know how scared I am? I don't wanna go! I don't wanna see that guy again, and I'm tired of almost dying! Can I stop?”

Loki sighed. “You have my permission to stop almost dying. I...well, I can't say I'm exactly the paragon of not almost dying, but I'll do what I can to keep you from also almost dying.”

“Howwww many times have you almost died?” You asked.

“Eh, three or four times.” He shrugged. “Not that often, in the long run.”

In the long run. In a life of thousands of years, perhaps that wasn't very many. Still, you were pretty sure that Saldis had never almost died, so maybe it was much worse than he was trying to make you believe. To you, it was still an unacceptable number of times. Surely Loki could not be allowed to die before you did. It just didn't seem right.

You patted his hand sloppily. “Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki.” You repeated. “That's way too much. Don't do that any more. You've used up all your turns, so you have to stop.”

“Well, since my Seidkona commands...”

“That's right! I'm Seidkona, so listen to me!...I still don't wanna go. But I'll go. Gotta do the right thing.”

“Well, not always...” He trailed off. “But if you're feeling brave, then yes. Do the right thing. In this case, it seems that duty commands it.”

You started to take another drink, but Loki stole the mead right out of your hands, and replaced it with an apple juice.

“Wha? Hey! Gimmie that back!” You protested. “I'm not done!”

“I'm afraid you are my dear. We can't have you so drunk this early in the day, can we? It's not even dark out yet!” The teasing was heavy in his voice. You crossed your arms and huffed.

“It doesn't get dark anymore!” You grumped. “Night time doesn't exist! The stars are lies, and the moon is a ghost!”

“Poetic, but you still cannot have any more. Here, have some bread instead. This one has that jam you like so much.” He always seemed to make sure that jam was there. You chewed the bread as if you were angry with it.

“I miss Phil.” You mumbled. Loki crooked one perfect eyebrow.

“Who is Phil?”

“My philodendron. He's special. He's as big as me, and he had variegated leaves. That's pretty rare. Normally they're really expensive, but Tara got me a cutting from her aunt, and I raised it...raised it up...I hope he's doing all right...” You choked the words out around the sudden lump in your throat, and Loki went from teasing to concerned in less time than it took to look.

“_____, I-”

You buried your head in your arms and let the tears burst out.

“I haven't talked to Tara in months! I haven't even sent her a letter! I almost got killed, and I didn't even leave her a note to say I was okay! She's my best friend, and I just forgot her!”

“N-now, now, _____,” Loki quickly, giving your back an awkward pat. “I'm sure she understands that your life has taken an unforeseen turn, and that you simply aren't as available-”

“I haven't paid my rent!” You wailed. “They probably sold all my stuff! Or trashed it! My plants! My cookbooks! My sketches! I can't replace them! My plants counted on me, and I abandoned them to go play fairy tale in some mythical world, where it's never night!”

A gesture from Loki sent the minstrel away, leaving just the two of you, you still sobbing onto the table, and Loki at a loss for what to do. Finally, he settled for draping one arm over your shoulders, and letting you decided the level of comfort you wanted.

“If you would like, we can contact your father, to see if he salvaged any of your belongings.” He offered. “If not, I intended to take you into town to get a few things for yourself anyway. We are going to be providing you with a cell phone, so you will be able to contact your friends and family. You haven't abandoned anyone, you've just been temporarily unavailable. Don't fret now, my dear, let all that stress go...”

He let you cry yourself out, offering the occasional coo or murmur of encouragement, and a handkerchief, as soon as you were done. It was, of course, brilliant green, with golden embroidery, and you almost felt bad for utterly wrecking it with your nose. Loki seemed to think it could be salvaged though, tucking it away somewhere in his magic pockets.

“Here, eat your bread now.” He said, pushing the plate at you once again. “And no more mead for a while. We will have to find a formula you can withstand. Your mortal blood is far too thin for our alcoholic accomplishments.”

“Rude.” You muttered, gobbling bread.

*****

“Which do you think?” Loki asked from in front of the full length mirror, holding up two sets of his horns. “The full helmet, or the hollow top?”

“Perhaps we should avoid wearing anything that could be considered martial in nature?” Thor suggested, sounding terribly bored.

“Hm, you think so? Well, I do have a set that more of a coronet-”

“Just braid your hair and be done with it, you insufferable dandy!”

“You can't call me a dandy!” Loki huffed. “You have beads in your beard.”

“They hold the braid in place, and they make me look dashing.” Thor preened.

“They make you look like a barbarian.”

“You are simply envious that I have a beard to put beads in!”

“Oh yes, so greatly do I regret my inability to fully cultivate the 'filthy vagrant' look! Whatever shall I do, with only my impeccable fashion sense to back me up?”

The brothers bickered and debated every thing from armor, to accessories, to footwear, eventually settling down so that Thor could wind green ribbons into his brother's hair.

You had been provided with a weeks worth of dresses, each finer than anything you had ever worn. You had never even imagined your wedding dress-if you ever got to have a wedding-would be of such high quality. Gratifyingly, you could tell that some of them were older, altered pieces, which you tended to prefer for practicality's sake. Even more gratifying: they weren't all green.

You, and Saldis, and Brunnhilde, and Borgliot had all been gathered in the King's chambers very early in the morning-or very late at night, with the sun misbehaving so, it was impossible for you to tell anymore-to prepare for your journey to the city. The king had said that it would take the better part of a day on horseback, and that the trial would likely not last long, as the defendant had pleaded guilty, with no remorse at all for his crimes.

Reservations had been made for a weeks worth of time, and Loki promised you that, whatever moments were spent outside the trial, you could chose to spend however you wished. Saldis would be coming along, for she spoke Icelandic as well as English, and could read it too; she would be there to translate things for you during those times that Loki had to be parted from you, and she was to see to your care and attire. She bubbled with an excitement you thought it was far too early-or late-for, showing you the intricacies of wearing a snake-shaped pen-annular brooch that twisted and turned in your hands like the very reptile it resembled.

“How...again?” You asked, unable for the life of you, to get the long pin in the right place. You'd been gifted a gorgeous deep blue cloak that was sure to keep you warm; Loki had been very solemn and proud to wrap it around your shoulders, but he hadn't bothered showing you how the pin worked when he'd handed it over.

“Just like this, my Seidkona.” Saldis said, fastening the brooch with a quick movement. It looked so simple when she did it.

You sighed. “I feel like a child.” You complained. “Can't even dress myself.”

“High class clothing is complex.” Saldis explained. “Most nobles cannot dress themselves.”

“Besides, you kinda look like a child too.” Brunnhilde said, offhandedly, as she twisted her braided hair into a tidy topknot. “Mortals are all pretty small, but your little body, on that little horse...you're going to look like an elf.” At your crestfallen expression, she hastened to add. “But that's fine. Elves are considered lucky. All of the shorter Asgardians you see have Alfar in their backgrounds.”

All of the shorter Asgardians were still half a foot taller than you. Being short wasn't something you'd ever really noticed, before coming here. Among other humans, height variance felt far less pronounced.

“Methinks thou hast 'hashed it', my general.” Borgljot jested. “Our dear mortal is surely no child.”

You caught her gazing appreciatively at the way the diagonal elements in your clothes flattered your figure, and you grew a little warm. You hadn't been awake long enough to be able to appreciate flirting from anyone, let alone a six-foot-three warrior woman from space.

Brunnhilde nudged her sharply. “Mind your manners.”

“She is not incorrect.” Loki called from near the mirror. “I happen to know that my Seidkona is very much a woman.”

You took in a deep breath, but decided not to tell him off in front of everyone. Later. Borgliot's impudent grin faltered as she glanced from the prince, to you, to Brunnhilde, who simply gave her a very pointed look. Her face fell, and she said nothing else.

Loki came to guide you to the horses, while Saldis gathered your luggage. Thor had convinced him to wear no armor at all; instead he had girded himself in an intricately beaded tunic made of velvet so plush that your hands itched to touch it, and trousers so well-tailored that your eyes simultaneously screamed to keep looking and to turn away. It was practically scandalous, and you were embarrassed by how intriguing you found just this one set of clothes.

Thor was also resplendent in his finery, with his doublet and red cloak, and shining buttons, his ribboned hair an opposite color match for his brother. It was a nice touch, in lieu of crowns.

In fact, the entire entourage was absolutely majestic, and you felt like a dog someone had dressed up in a matching costume. Your clothes were right, but you were out of place.

Maybe it was just the apprehension you still felt towards seeing your would-be murderer again, or towards being in a court of law. Being out among humankind again, knowing that some of them saw you as a traitor to your species.

“Would you like to ride the same horse as before?” Loki asked you, as the stablehands led Leynarodd out to him. You nodded. Technically, that horse deserved justice as well.

A loud and happy whicker caught your attention and you glanced around in search of the animal that could have made the sound.

“Who was that?” You asked. It wasn't Leynarodd, who was contentedly munching the apple Loki had offered her, and it certainly wasn't the shaggy, placid little beast that had been brought to you.

“Oh, that was the other horse I rescued from Ragnarok.” Loki said with a little smile, stroking Leynarodd's broad forehead.

The thumping of hooves grew, odd-sounding, almost like striking iron. The animal that approached was enormous; bigger than Leynarodd, bigger than any horse ever was or could be. He was shining silver-gray, ribbons and bells in his mane and tail. Thor perched atop his back like a scene out of legend, and, if all eight hooves striking the ground with the sound of metal were any indication, that's exactly what this was.

“Is...is that...?” You breathed out in awe. This creature was equal parts beautiful and terrifying, his perfection and wrongness impressed into your mind. It occurred to you that no one had ever said animals could not be gods as well.

“It is.” Loki said proudly. “Saddle up, my dear. Not all of us can keep Sleipnir's speed, and we have a long ride ahead of us.”

You mounted your sweet, small horse, who seemed not at all perturbed by the legendary beasts she was expected to travel with. Perhaps you ought to try to be more like her.

“Can you tell me this girls name?” You asked.

“Believe that one's Acorn.”

“Acorn?” The horse's ears perked, and you hugged her neck. “Oh, that's so cute!”

“And somewhat ironic, considering there are no oak trees here, so she's likely never seen one. Onward! The day is young.”

The procession wended slowly through the streets, the people gathering to solemnly wish you all well. This was not a situation that called for celebration; instead, the people waved squares of gray cloth, and played slow drum beats on the corners.

“It's to symbolize that we are going to a battle who's outcome is uncertain.” Loki explained. “Legal battles should be able to go either way, in the nature of fairness. But we know how this will end, if not all the details.”

The drums faded behind you as you reached the edge of the city, replaced by a slightly different sound; that of chanting. Angry chanting.

Past the gate, past the increased number of einherjar, blocking the road out, was a crowd of people, chanting louder and louder at the approach of your little cavalcade. Most of them were carrying signs, and too many of those had your face on them.

Dread rolled down your bones. Was there any possibility they were there in support? The red slashes you saw through your own face put those hopes to rest.

What had you done to deserve this?

It looked as though Loki was suffering the same treatment, with signs and chants, but aside from a slight scowl, he showed no signs of acknowledging the hostile crowd. Trying to take a page from his book, you turned away from the people, and fixed your eyes on Leynarodd instead.

Beautiful, shining Leynarodd, and her beautiful, statuesque rider. Just stay next to them, and you would be safe.

Someone broke free of the chanting ranks, darted into the procession, and grabbed you by the hand. You turned to look down into possibly the least expected-and least welcome of faces.

“Todd?” You squeaked, disbelieving. He couldn't be here. You didn't want him here! You hadn't seen him in over a year, and there was a good reason for that!

“_____, baby, I'm so glad I found you!” Todd exclaimed, as the horses came to a halt. He gestured at the einherjar currently closing the gate. “These clowns wouldn't let anyone into the city, even though I told them about us.”

You yanked your hand out of his. “There's no us, Todd. What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get here?”

The huge head of Sleipnir shoved between the two of you causing the ruckus from the crowd to calm in awe of his presence.

“What the hell? The fuck is wrong with that horse?” Todd nearly shouted.

“He's probably a little peckish.” Thor said dryly. “Oh, you mean the legs, of course you mean the legs, everyone means the legs. It's simple really. It's because he's twice the horse you'll ever be.”

“I...what...” Todd stammered. Loki reached down and placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, either comforting you, or holding you in place so that you could not hop off your little horse and run off with Todd. Little did he know that nothing was further from your mind.

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” Thor said. “I am Thor, king of Asgard, Avenger and defender of Earth. And you are?”

“Uh, Todd Emmerst, sir, your Majesty. Big fan of your work, sir. You see, I've come all the way from Iowa to see _____ again. Now, I don't know the whole story about why she's here, but everyone back home misses her a lot, especially me. I gotta ask; do you really need to keep her? I miss her so much, is there any way you could make it so you could give me my girl back?”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm not your girl, Todd!” You snapped. “The only thing I am of yours is your ex!”

Thor glanced at you, then back. “It appears there is some discrepancy.”

“We had a disagreement.” Todd said. “She was taken away before we got the chance to make up.”

“Did I take you away from him?” Loki asked in a low whisper. “You never mentioned anyone.”

“He's not my boyfriend.” You hissed. “And I never wanted to see him again! He's a total jerk!” He was exactly what you didn't need today, or any day. “Make him go away!”

Loki's prefect eyebrows scaled his forehead. “If my Seidkona commands it.” He said, a wicked grin growing. You barely noticed a little twiddle of his fingers before the crowd started screaming.

With Sleipnir's enormous bulk between you and everything else, you couldn't see what had set them off, but if the shrieks of “Snake!” were any indication, you could certainly guess.

“Everyone get to a safe distance!” Thor shouted, and the crowd obeyed, opening up enough for the procession to pass.

“You know, Brother...” Thor said, when you were all far enough away not to be overheard. “You have been here long enough to be aware that there are no snakes in Iceland.”

“Oh, I am.” Loki said, oh-so smugly proud of himself. “But they clearly aren't.”

“They nearly trampled that man.”

“Oh, that's too bad. Nearly? I shall have to try harder next time.”

“Loki!” Thor scolded.

“I asked him to.” You piped up. “Todd can hold up a debate for hours. He would have tied us up all morning. So I asked him to hurry things along.”

“My Seidkona demanded it of me, and I was helpless under the power of her voice.” Loki said, and your face burned.

“You really dislike him?” Saldis asked. “He seemed pleasant.”

“Oh yeah, he always does when he's in public.” You said hotly. “Then you're left to wonder what happened to that guy when you get home. Why he's like this behind closed doors, why he gets so controlling and insulting when no one else can see him. Or worse, if it's all in your head, if you're really just making it all up, or if it's just you. Yeah, no thanks. Not going back to that.”

“He sounds exceptionally huglausi to me.” Loki huffed. Borgliot murmured her agreement. “And you wanted to scold me.”

“He is behind us now, and will remain that way.” Thor said. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption for the day. We have reservations to meet.”

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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khadij-al-kubra · 5 years

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Thomas In Wonderland (Full Fanfic) Chapter 1

Characters: Thomas (fictional), Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Remy, Emile, Joan, Talyn Deceit, Nate, the Dragon Witch (i mean jabberwalkie), Possibly fan adopted shorts characters

Pairings: None (although knowing me and my love of ships, this may change)

Words: 1368

Summary: Thomas seems to have lost his inspiration, his creative drive, and in short has a seriously BAD case of writers block. Perhaps an accidental trip down the rabbit hole into a land of nonsense and madness will help him find that flighty spark he’s been looking for.

Author’s Note: Greetings guys, gals, & non-binary pals! Looks like this is going to be my first multi-chapter fanfic of the new year. This chapter is more of a prologue than anything so it won’t be as long. If you know my writing though, than future chapters are pretty much guaranteed to be MUCH longer. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Also, if you would like to be in the tag list for this fanfic, feel free to message or inbox me and I shall happily and gratefully add you to the list. I’m super excited about this, and I hope you all enjoy.

Prologue

Writers block. The bane of his existence and possible the only thing that Thomas hated even more than he hated bigoted jerk faces. ...Okay he hated the latter way more, but writers block was definitely up there on the list, right behind mucky Florida heat and cold pizza. His current bout of creative block however was making its way up that list.

“Come on brain...think of things. Come on brain, be so smart,” Thomas mumbled to himself, disappointed he couldn’t even come up with something more original than a borrowed line from that Lin-Manuel Miranda vine.

He certainly felt like the embodiment of it though.

He had been sitting at the table in his living room for the past two hours. His laptop was opened to a mockingly blank page, a lined yellow notepad next to it covered in scratched out bad ideas, crumpled papers were scattered around him, and his Steven Universe mug half emptied of coffee that was cold by now. To add insult to injury, it was an actually nice crisp yet sunshiny autumn day and Thomas could only sit inside as the beauty of it mocked him from the other side of his living room window. The jerk!

He would’ve loved nothing more than to go for a walk outside or visit his friends, but sadly Thomas had a new script to write. Normally he and Joan were pretty good about keeping on top of schedules and they’d even gotten the last two scripted videos out in pretty good amounts of time. Which hopefully made up for that six month dry spell they both swore never to speak of again. However, Joan reminded him that a new scripted video was due soon and Thomas for the life of him just COULD NOT seem to come up with any new or exciting story ideas! It was like his creativity was wandering around a blank page desert and the oasis of is imagination had dried up.

“Say, that could make for a neat Sanders Sides video,” Thomas mused to himself perking up...only to deflate back down after realizing they didn’t have the budget for that kind of a green screen effect. “Besides, the sides never debate outside of my living room and moving them to a location outside of my house wouldn’t make any sense.”

Thomas groaned and plonked his forehead onto the wooden coffee table. Making videos and writing scripts used to be so much fun. Until it started being his job more than a passion. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was signing up for. He wanted this, and he knew he was luckier than most that he got to get paid for creating art and doing what he loved. Not that he and his team did it for the money. Except lately creating felt more like a chore. Not something eh wanted to do but like something he had to do. Like dusting, which was his least favorite chore. Creating felt like a chore! But he couldn’t let Joan or Camden or his wonderful famders down. So he needed to come up with something good...Thomas just wish he could feel that rush of wondrous joy and colorful excitement about his work again. He missed coming up with ideas that were so out there yet he felt a surge of pride every time they worked. Lately all his ideas felt, well, like looking at a faded rainbow. Which was sad as both and artist and a gay man...But deadlines were deadlines and he had to create something to post for the next video.

“That is if i could come up with something period!” Thomas sighed. “Maybe i need a break. Just five to ten minutes of something fun to get the ol’ juices flowing again. Something exciting...”

He looked at the very cold coffee with a pouted lip. Or maybe I just need a boost from my favorite caffeinated drug, he thought. With that decided Thomas picked up the mug and got up to go to the kitchen. Before he even reached the entryway however, a flash of purple in the corner of his eye stopped him. It was from outside. Curious, Thomas went over to the window to peer outside, hoping to see what that thing was. Maybe it was a pretty hummingbird or something, he mused, on its way flying south for the winter. He squinted as he saw the bushes across his yard tremble and this time he caught the flash of purple as it popped our from the foliage.

Only it wasn’t a hummingbird. It was a rabbit: A black rabbit wearing a velvet purple waistcoat. Thomas did a double take. he rubbed at his tired eyes to be sure he wasn’t just seeing things after staring at a blank screen for so long. Nope. It was really there. And if that weren’t jaw drop worth enough, now the black rabbit was taking out a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket.

“Well that’s not something you see every day.”

Too curious to pass seeing this delightful oddity up close, Thomas quickly set down his mug, pulled his jacket over his favorite faded circle shirt and slipped his sneakers on. He was out the door and across faster than you could say Jeemanetty. When he was a few feet away from the rabbit, who was paying more attention to his pocket watch, Thomas slowed down to a tip toe so as not to scare the rabbit off. As he got closer Thomas saw that there was an elegant storm cloud design engraved on the back of the watch. What a cute little fella, Thomas thought to himself. But where did he come from? How did he get a fancy watch and threads like that? Should I call animal control though? As he was debating this, something even weirder happened.

“Ah geeze,” said the Black Rabbit. “I am so late! He’s gonna have my ears and whiskers for this, along with the rest of my head.”

Thomas literally felt his jaw drop and his eyes bug out near cartoon level.

“You can TALK!?” Thomas shouted.

The Black Rabbit jumped at this voice. The silver watch shook in his trembling hands, the poor thing. He hadn’t meant to frighten the little guy. It’s just a talking black rabbit wasn’t something you saw every day, not even in the Bermuda Triangle of America that is Florida.

“It’s okay little guy,” Thomas said, hands held out carefully. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.”

The Black Rabbit anxiously looked from Thomas to his watch and then back again.

“No time to talk,” he said. “I’mlateI’mLATEI’MLATE!!!”

And then quick as a lightning strike the Black Rabbit dashed into the thicket of shrubbery and trees. Without thinking about it Thomas ran after him.

“Wait, I’m sorry! Come back! Maybe I can help you,” Thomas called out to the purple clad creature ahead of him.

He chased the Rabbit through brambles and bushes, across lawns and through low hanging leaves. If Thomas had taken a moment to think he would’ve realized that there was no way he could possibly catch up to a wild animal, least of all one with a waistcoat and pocket watch, which was surely proof that he was smarter than the average bunny even without the talking. He also would’ve noticed that the hole that the Black Rabbit had ducked into was much larger than a normal rabbit hole and was probably dangerous if someone were to get too close. Most of all, had Thomas slowed down for a moment to think, he would’ve realized that when he left the house in a hurry, he had forgotten to tie the laces of his sneakers that he’d slipped on.

But Thomas did none of those things. As a result, what he did do was trip on his laces just after seeing the Black Rabbit go down the whole. And because he was so close when he tripped on his laces, even if he wanted to, Thomas could not stop to think now.

All he could do was scream loudly as he fell headlong down the rabbit hole into the unknown.

Next =>

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters @icecoldparadise @the-pastel-peach @justisaisfine @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6@hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @ab-artist @unikornavenger @queer-human-being @grey-lysander @asofterfan @fangirltothefullest @tinkslittlebelle @allsortsofgeekery @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @ironwoman359 @a-valorous-choice @broadwaytheanimatedseries @sugarglider9603 @xx-fandom-potato-xx @mycatshuman @punsterterry @journalanxiety @stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting @elementalshadowwitch @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @the-psycho-pie @satanblessi @thesassiersilv101 @bat-fangirl77-fan @icantbeme71097 @chituri @dangerfishie @grade-a-trash-blog @justsomerandomhooman @romano-cheesy @llamaavocado @pinkbea09 @aliceofscarletflames @backatthebein @em-be-lievable @mephonic @impatentpending @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans @loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @book-of-charlie @ierindoodles @thatsthat24

#KDsWriting #Thomas in Wonderland AU #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #Logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #joan and talyn #emile picani #nate sanders #dragon witch #i'm super excited for this fic guys #ya girl is back at it #first fanfic of 2019

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thegreatpikminzx789 · 4 years

Text

Beyond the Stars - Etrian Odyssey V - Chapter 11

Wattpad|Ao3

Summary: Keiko and Demetria go clothes shopping for their new friend, and the rest of the guild prepare themselves for the next stretch of the journey into the labyrinth.

Previous Chapter|Next Chapter

A/N: Apologies for this not being up earlier. I was debating on putting pictures I made to help create some imagery, but then this chapter was held off even longer until I decided I should just keep going with writing instead.

Drayce, Zohar, and Ashton (c) @theshatteredrose

It happened so suddenly. From being in the Council Hall, to buying clothes in the nearby shopping store... Honestly, if this wasn't the weirdest day Amare would commit to memory, who knows what would be the weirdest thing she has done. It's been about a few years since she had even bothered to shop for new clothes, so being out and about in a public place felt so difficult due to hiding within the labyrinth for the last fifty years.

"There must be something suitable for Necromancers..." Keiko spoke up, looking around for a suitable article of clothing. "The only thing that I'd imagine being suitable would be open hoodies and jackets. Aside from the other female Necromancer's clothing, I'm not sure if these would be viable for Amare's clothes..." Demetria pondered, thinking about wanting to look for something that's at least some decent article of clothing.

The twin Therians looked around, with Amare following close behind them. If a particular area didn't have anything interesting, they moved onto somewhere else. It was like finding a needle in a haystack, only changing factor being the needle is clothing that would work for Amare.

Soon, Amare was looking back and forth at the twin sisters, who were going left and right all over the place just to find a suitable piece of clothing. Despite wanting to follow them, the Necromancer knew nothing would come from it. So, she started to wander on her own, hoping to find something of interest.

Amare looked through the areas the Therians looked at prior. Perhaps they might have glanced over something that they didn't notice the first time around. Moving all these clothes was difficult, due to the hangers typically wanting them to fall back to their original place.

Minutes passed, and she felt like she wasn't getting anywhere. She had only just gotten to the third spot they visited for clothes, but was searching through it be just a waste of time? Night would fall way before they're able to make it back to the Crescentia...

"Why did I think this would be the right size?" A voice groaned, catching Amare's attention, turning to see a female Therian citizen with purple hair, and almost similar skin color to Keiko and Demetria, holding an interesting piece of Necromancer clothing. It was a mix between the older Necromancer dresses, along with a hoodie, along with a silver skull, and a single strand of chains connecting around the cloth.

"Now what am I going to do with it? I can't just take it back, that store doesn't have a take back policy..." The female Therian sighed, lost on what to do with the cloth she held. Amare silently walked up to her.

"Hey, is it alright if I can have that particular piece of clothing from you?" Amare spoke up, surprising the Therian as she turned to face the young Necromancer. "W-Where'd you come from?!" She yelped.

"Sorry about that," Amare apologized. "Didn't think silently walking up would be a more appropriate way to strike up conversation."

The female Therian sighed, calming herself down a bit before continuing the out-of-nowhere conversation. "Truth be told, I bought this piece of clothing because it was the only one, but I guess I must have messed up by not reading the size tags..." The Therian explained.

"Though I guess you can have it. Saves me the time in figuring out what to do with it." She handed over the article of clothing to the tiny Necromancer, holding it easily in her hands.

"Are you sure you don't want anything in return for this?" Amare asked, wanting to make sure in case the Therian ever needed anything. "Oh, no, I already gotten everything I needed. But, uh, thanks for asking anyways." Well, thought she'd ask anyways.

"The name's Amare." The pink haired Necromancer spoke, after a few seconds of silence passed. "Shizuka." The purple haired Therian responded with her name. A rather pleasing name, especially for a Therian.

"Are you part of a guild?" Amare queried. "No, I'm more of a solo explorer. I do things my own way..." Shizuka declared.

A solo explorer? The labyrinth is already dangerous as it is, so why explore it alone? Did she have her reasons, or did she have one previously? Many questions started to arise, but if she asked them now, they'd be here forever.

"Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks again for letting me have this." Amare bowed, likely wondering in the back of her mind that Keiko and Demetria are looking for her.

"No problem, ma'am. Good luck with exploring the labyrinth." Shizuka hummed, making her leave. Amare couldn't help but feel like her aura is quite different from the other Therians she witnessed roaming through the streets.

But now's not the time to dwell on that. With the objective cleared, she made her way back to where Keiko and Demetria likely were at. The two were likely worried for her, having noticed a bit too late that they lost her.

"Amaaaare, where are you?!" Keiko's voice reached her ears, as the Celestrian spotted Keiko and Demetria a few feet ahead of her. She didn't need to respond, as walking to the Therians was not an issue.

"Worry not, you two, I'm here..." Amare spoke up once she was in talking distance, feeling Keiko and Demetria stare at her. "How can we not, we realized you weren't following us! We thought something bad happened to you!" Demetria exclaimed, before spotting a piece of clothing in her hands.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked the Necromancer. "Got it from somebody named Shizuka. Said she got the wrong size, and I felt like it'd fit me just fine." Amare answered, looking back up to the Therians once she stopped looking at the piece of clothing.

"I don't suppose you two can find a room for me to change in? I'm getting too cold with each passing s-second." She asked, holding tightly to the clothing as she felt a chill run through her spine. The twin Therians wasted no time, guiding Amare somewhere she can change clothes in peace. Though they also had to hurry, as they had to meet up with the others once they were done.

................................................................................................................

Back at the Crescentia, the others left the carriage, as Hilda and Ashton open the doors. "Welcome back, Drayce." The man greeted, as Drayce exchanged some words in return. "Dinner's ready, by the way. Hilda is surprisingly a great cook."

Korey noticed a little smile form on Hilda's lips. "Is she now? Well then, I'm quite curious as to what she cooked up!" Drayce grinned, as Korey was wondering the same thing as he was. He never thought of her to be a great cook... but looking at the female Harbinger clothing again, there was no shadow of a doubt that they dress somewhat similar to maids.

"...Where's Keiko and Demetria? Weren't they with you guys?" Hilda inquired, a little worried about them not being with them.

Footsteps quickly approached them lightning fast, that Korey barely had time to respond when he turned around, seeing Keiko nearly trip onto him again. He surprisingly caught her at the last second.

"J-Jeez, Keiko, don't startle me like that!" Korey exclaimed, as the Masurao stood upward with the Fencer's help. "S-Sorry... we came running as fast as we can. We didn't want to wait for another carriage to show up."

The brown haired Fencer blinked in astonishment, before seeing Demetria and Amare approach them. "A-Amare... Those clothes fit you nicely..." Altum gulped, seeing Amare's new clothes., as the others turned their gazes at the millennium necromancer.

It carried the same vibe as a typical Necromancer's clothing, but at the very least they weren't... quite revealing. It brought some warmth to her skin, so that she wouldn't get cold whenever they camp outdoors. She mumbled some tender loving words back at Altun before urging him to go inside before he ends up freezing cold. Which confused the Celestrian because he was wearing more clothing than she was all their life.

Chuckling a bit over hearing Altum and Amare's back and forth conversation, Korey and Drayce's group enter inside, as Ashton guides the Lux Guild over to the dining hall. The pleasant sound of conversation between guild members easily reached Korey's ears, seeing his newfound guild get along with a well formed guild.

After all, it's not every day one gets wrapped up in exploring for ancient treasures.

"You gonna stare, or are you gonna sit?" Zohar insisted, pointing to the empty chairs beside him. Korey nearly flinched upon hearing Zohar speak to him, but relaxed seconds after and sat down, with Drayce sitting to his right. Hilda, Keiko, Demetria, Bortos, Altum, and Amare sat on Korey's left side.

"There's so many types of food..." Amare cooed, unsure which ones to grab. "Better than the raw materials we had to fight for in the labyrinth, eh Amare?" Altum hummed, helping his wife pick out the food she wished to taste.

Curiously, Hilda grabbed quite a bit of variety of food. Chicken, vegetables, meat, and a lot more food that took time and effort were equally spread across her plate. Perhaps she liked to sample the food before dedicating herself to one, the Fencer thought to himself.

As Korey shrugged off the thought and began to indulge himself on the meal he grabbed, he tried to listen in on some of the conversations he and his guild members had. Though he wasn't quite able to tell much, he picked up faint details about one guild member of the Angelward talking about how their day went while the others were off assisting the Lux Guild. The ones who did join the Lux Guild discussed about the guild they had came across, which made Hilda a little nervous, urging them to talk about something else when she didn't stuff her cheeks with food.

Looking back, he didn't expect that by picking up that one unnoticeable box on the first floor of the labyrinth, that he and his guild would suddenly jump into the thrilling excitement of treasure hunting. Would the same events happen had they didn't find the treasure? Could another guild have come across it, with much more darker intentions once they did find the treasure inside?

Korey was quite known for thinking about the alternative scenario quite a bit growing up, which tended to end up making him fear other possibilities of a certain situation. But even if it led to him being restless a little bit, it was still fun for him to speculate such possibilities. He looked up at his fellow guild members, and just smiled, seeing how much fun they're having. They didn't really reach far into Yggdrasil's labyrinth, but the sheer fact that they succeeded in their first treasure hunt was really making him proud of himself.

"I know a smile when I see one." Drayce's voice startled Korey as he turns to face the red haired Dragoon, chuckling upon seeing Korey flinch. He patted the Fencer's back before giving him a smile of his own.

The way he smiled... it reminded Korey of his little sister, back when he was younger. "If you need any help regarding treasure, you know where to come to now. Just give us a holler, and we'll do our best to help." Drayce hummed, as he took a bite out of his own meal.

"Thanks, Drayce. We... wouldn't have gotten this far had we tried on our own." Korey replied, his smile returning for a couple of seconds before focusing on his food once more.

Time had passed quite easily, all the members of both guilds almost unaware how fast it came and went. Some members of the Lux Guild were quite helpful in washing the plates and cups, while everyone else helped clean up the mess in the dining hall. By the time they were finished, it the moon was quite high up in the night sky.

"Should we get back to the inn?" Keiko asked, before noticing Kyo's tired head shake no in response. "After all that walking and fighting, dinner had just made me quite exhausted..." The brown skinned Celestrian groaned, not looking forward to having to walk back.

Other members of the Lux Guild began to express their dislike of having to walk back when it's quite dark out. "Keiko would just trip more easily if she doesn't know where she's going." Demetria blurted out, which the other sister replied with confusion as to how her sister came to that conclusion.

Drayce, who was more than likely trying to sneak off and attempt to do research, noticed that Korey's guild was still here, and approached Korey, who turned to face him when he noticed him. "Sorry if we're making this much noise, Drayce, but I'd like to ask for one more thing while we're here..." Korey apologetically began.

"You wish to ask if you want to stay here in the Crescentia for the night?" The Dragoon educated a guess, which surprised the Fencer easily. "W-What are you, a psychic?!" He exclaimed, before seeing a grin on the Dragoon's face.

"Nah, I could just tell by everyone's faces." Drayce reassured, patting Korey's shoulder, before quieting the conversation the other members of the Lux Guild. "People of the Lux Guild, I know how tired you all are from today's events," The Dragoon began, almost like he had rehearsed a speech.

Bortos, Keiko, Demetria, Hilda, Charon, Ion, Altum, and Amare listened intently, despite their bodies having a tough time standing up straight. "So until you've regained your strength, you're more than welcome to stay in the Crescentia for the night. Don't worry, it's on me." Drayce continued, hearing the others sigh with relief.

"Thank goodness... Ion not want to walk and waste magic trying to light up the path back to Jenetta's Inn." Ion was the most relieved of them all. Kyo and Altum simply nodded alongside Ion's statement.

"Feel free to take some of the vacant rooms. I'll fix them up by the time you all head back out." The Dragoon also added, as the others began to walk up the spiral stairs.

Korey partially made his way up the stairs, before looking back at Drayce. "Thanks again, Drayce... You're a real kind man." Korey thanked once again, hearing him chuckle a bit.

"It's what I like to do, you know." Drayce hummed. "Anyways, have a good night's rest, now." He waved, as the Fencer waved goodbye as well, climbing up the rest of the stairs and took the first vacant room he can find, hearing his own guild members say their good nights to one another before closing the door behind him.

Korey looks around the room, seeing a neatly organized room. A table, a bed, a place to store clothes... whose to say a room in a guild house would be better than the inn's rooms, but neither he nor his parents have the current money to buy a guild house of his own. He didn't recall if his parents had a guild house or not. It would take some time for them to respond, but perhaps writing a letter to them about the idea could get some gears rolling.

Though as much as he would love to rest now, the restless side of him urged him to stay up a little longer until he just couldn't anymore. Looking outside the window, the night sky easily shone through the glass, giving the room a bit of that nightly feel to it. Korey tried to count the many stars in the sky, but he'd lose track partway through before giving up after several attempts.

Stargazing didn't do much, so he reached into his bag, taking out a notebook of some sort. Lighting up the nearby lamp, he took a bit of time finding writing utensils in the room, before settling down and began to write all that happened today. The notebook was a gift from his parents when he was reaching a point of being able to explore the labyrinths.

He thought of it as having no use if he ever planned to journey to Yggdrasil, so it was placed into his bag without a second thought. Time soon changes that plan, as he made sure not to rush his own hand writing, trying to make each stroke perfectly clean. Part way through writing, he looked out at the window again, thinking about his young sister, who saw him off with his mom and dad as he and Kyo went to Iorys.

"I wonder if she would be proud..." Korey pondered, before resuming back to his writing to finish the last few sentences. "With day one a huge success as it is, I wonder if we'll find more of Yggdrasil's treasures, lying higher up on its branches..." He muttered to himself, writing down the exact words, ending it off with a signature, and closed the notebook.

Without any hesitation, mostly because he started getting tired halfway through his writing, he takes off the light armor he wore, placing them nearly next to each other a couple of feet away from his book. He takes out some casual clothes he brought with him from his home, taking his sweet time to be as comfortable as he can. Lord knows sleeping with armor on will do wonders in the labyrinth, there's just no need to waste its potential in a simple room.

A knock on his door shifted his attention from turning off the lamp. Was anyone else still up later than him...? He heads to the door, opening it to see a tired Hilda look up at him.

"H-Hilda? What are you doing staying up this late?" He inquired, noticing how tired she was.

She took a deep breath before answering his question. "I just...couldn't get enough sleep. I was...wondering if it would be alright if I stay in your room?" Hilda retorted with a question of her own, not making a comment when Korey's cheeks slightly turned red.

"A-Are you sure? W-What if the others get the wrong idea?" Korey whispered, trying not to make as much noise as possible.

Hilda's head tilted a bit to her left. "And...? It's not like we're doing anything wrong in a public area, we're just...friends, wanting to comfort the other, even if their friend is the very leader and founder of the guild." She explained.

Not wanting to argue any further, Korey sighs and motions for her to enter, closing the door behind her. Hilda looked a bit around his room, seeing the neatly tucked away armor and articles of clothing, before noticing the book next to the lamp. "A notebook, huh?" She approached the table where it lied upon and took it to herself to read the content within.

"I uh... decided to keep track of the events that happened everyday from this day on." Korey began, as Hilda listened while reading through the book, closing the book after reading the first page. "I suppose that's one way to tire yourself out, eh?" Hilda hummed, seeing him nod in response.

Korey sat on the bed, trying to arrange it so that it'd comfortably hold two people. The room was silent for quite a while, before he noticed Hilda pacing a bit back and forth. "You OK there, Hilda?" He asked, a little curious about what's on her mind.

She stopped and sat next to him, placing her hands on her lap. "Well... I'll be honest, I couldn't get some sleep because I feel bad about judging you too quickly back at Jenetta's Inn." Hilda began, taking a moment or two before she continued on.

"Ever since my break up with Byron...I feared that anyone, male or female, would attempt to pull the same tricks he did. My heart was still upset over that man, and seeing him again...didn't do any wonders."

Korey felt a bit pained to hear Hilda's explanation, but he looked a little worried once he noticed some tears forming in her eyes. "All because of one incident in the labyrinth, he replaces me... it's not... fair..." Hilda tried desperately to continue, before leaning onto Korey's shoulder, letting her tears out all over again.

He could only guess that this anxiety and fear is what keeps making her a bit weary of the others who might do just that, even if they weren't in a relationship so rare as boyfriend and girlfriend... Although she did explain who he was back in Iorys, it seemed to only resurface her terrible memories. A bit lost on how to properly encourage her to move on from him, he placed an arm around her and patted her back, silently letting her run her tears dry.

After a few minutes, Hilda wipes away her tears, looking at Korey as he looks back at her. "You know...you're more comfortable to be around than it has been with Byron." She noted, noticing Korey's cheeks turn red a bit before shaking the feeling off.

"Maybe...maybe it's because I can help you try and conquer your fear of being betrayed..." Korey began. "It's... not going to be easy, but I promise you, no matter what it takes, I'll make your time here in the Lux Guild enjoyable. Not just for me, but for everyone."

Those words... for whatever reason she couldn't comprehend, she felt like those words had some warmth to them. And... for the first time... a smile formed on her face. Her arms acted on their own, as they pulled him in for a hug.

Surprised, but finding the feeling quite relaxing, Korey returned the hug. They sat there for what felt like forever, with neither of them wanting to let go of the other. "Thank you, Korey." Hilda finally spoke, seeing a smile on his face too.

"Your welcome, Hilda." Korey hummed, before getting up and turned off the lamp. Any minute longer and they'll be quite as tired as they were today.

One last question bothered Hilda, as she took the right most side of the bed. "Korey... we're friends, right?" She asked, stopping Korey a bit as he turned to look at her, before giving her another smile.

"We've been friends the moment we started journeying into the Yggdrasil, Hilda. And I hope things will be different than your previous experience." He assured, seeing her sigh in relief before he lied down onto the bed, as they exchange their good nights.

.......................................................................................................

The morning sky gives off its bright glow once more. Everyone in the Lux Guild was roaring to go, their energy renewed for the day. Korey turned to face Drayce and Ashton, who were more than likely up earlier than the other Angelward members first to see them off.

"Well, it has been fun having a guild around to change things up for a change." Drayce hummed, as Korey lets out a chuckle. "It sure was, Drayce." He replied, seeming to have enjoyed visiting the Crescentia.

Ashton simply grinned for what seemed like a second. "If you ever have any questions about treasure, you are more than welcome to visit. Me and my guild will gladly do our best to help. And maybe we'll get to see new members of each others' guilds every now and then!" Drayce continued, with a grin on his face.

"We wish you the best of luck in climbing the Yggdrasil." Ashton added, even if it was a minor note that Drayce wasn't gonna mention. "And me and the others wish you the best of luck in uncovering the treasures that Yggdrasil holds." Korey replied with a similar wish.

Drayce hummed, before Hilda walked up to Korey. "We're ready to go, Korey." Korey nodded at Hilda's notification, taking an Ariadne Thread from her hand, looking back at Drayce and Ashton once he stood with his guild.

The three of them didn't exchange words, but instead waved goodbye to each other. Afterward, Korey and Hilda used the Ariadne Threads they had to teleport them and their guild back to Iorys, with Hilda going first, taking Ion, Charon, Altum and Amare, while Korey took Bortos, Kyo, Keiko and Demetria. The sounds of the citizens beginning to stir and make conversation didn't surprise most of the guild members.

Korey and the others returned to Jenetta's Inn, as they had to prepare for the next stretch of whatever goal they need to do next. And one can't think without having some food in their stomach. Or something to that effect, as Keiko constantly spouts that philosophy whenever she can't think of an idea.

The conversations of explorers in the inn didn't bother the guild as they sat and ate breakfast. With ten members in the guild, planning about what to do took some time, especially because they needed an income somehow. "We could easily go up to the third floor, but going in there unprepared may make things worse than needed..." Korey began to ponder, while taking a bite out of the bread in his hand.

"Plus, we do need to make a map of the second floor." Demetria added, noting that things wouldn't be so easy without some way to recognize their location. Hilda seemed to nod at what Demetria said, agreeing with the notion.

Some of the other members began to ponder what to do. "If I may make things simpler," Altum announced. "Perhaps a group of us can go around the collection points and slay monsters to gain some materials to sell, while the other group makes the map to the second floor." He proposed, giving the members some time to settle on the idea before coming to an agreement.

"Great. Then I, the mighty Charon declare that I'll be the leader of slaying the fiendish monsters!" Charon announced, as Ion chuckled at the Harbinger trying his Harbinger of Death personification again.

Korey chuckled a bit, before composing himself a bit. "Alright, Charon. Who wants to stick with him, I suppose?" He asked, probably wanting to make sure he diversifies his team well enough so that they're balanced out in the end.

"I'll go," Demetria declared. "I'll need to get used to the Aeterna, and to make sure I don't properly misuse the miasma in a dire situation."

As far as everyone was aware, a potential misfire could mean disaster. Granted, if they didn't have Bortos, they would've had to prepare to be stocked to the brim with Theracia's. Best to take it slow and steady, and see when the opportune time to use the miasma will come to effect.

Keiko soon followed up with wanting to come along, promising not to trip up during their training. Altum and Kyo volunteered themselves as well, making the process a little more easier. "So me, Hilda, Ion, Amare, and Bortos shall explore the second floor to make a map about it." Korey nodded, rather thankful of his guild members to make the splitting process easier.

"And if we do get enough time, we could explore a tiny bit of the third floor." Hilda added, just as a means of spending a little more time should they finish the map quicker than expected. She didn't want to rush head on back into the floor she only partially knew about.

She could only ponder that her ex-boyfriend's guild will likely pester the guild she's in now that Byron is fully aware she's trying to catch up. Having not seen him in forever, it's going to be difficult to determine what he's gonna do to try and slow her guild down... Unlike Korey's more organized guild, two Necromancers together is already begging for trouble, as they have to share the wraiths they summon.

After everyone ate their breakfast, they started to gather their stuff and prepared to head out to the labyrinth. Hilda took a look upon Yggdrasil, staring at it for what seemed like an eternity. If they were to climb, they'd surely meet Byron and his guild waiting for them at some point in the labyrinth. How far they'll have to go to see them is anyone's guess. However, Hilda was not gonna let the past bother her.

"Byron," Hilda muttered to herself. "Soon, I'll show you the pain you caused me back then... Because when we meet again, I'm sure to be stronger than you."

#eo #eov #Etrian Odyssey V #Etrian Odyssey #writ #etrianodysseyv

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liliheartbeat · 5 years

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JESSIE J TALKS TO THE TIMES!

The most honest interview 💕

---------------------------------------------------

The singer Jessie J has always worn her heart on her sleeve. Nine years ago, when she was proudly bisexual, she cast her female lover in the video for her breakthrough hit, Do It Like A Dude. In 2014, as she migrated towards heterosexuality, she announced the change with a forthright tweet: ‘I fancy/date/love men and only men’. It’s no surprise that with romance again in the air, her new boyfriend looms large in her conversation.

“I’m thinking about calling my next tour ‘Magic Mike and I’ and having Chan open for me as a stripper,” she cackles. “He’d do it too! That would sell some tickets, eh?”

“Chan” is the American actor Channing Tatum, star of the 2012 comedy Magic Mike as well as such box-office hits as 21 Jump Street and Foxcatcher. The 31-year-old Jessie, born Jessica Cornish, rearranges the hem of her figure-hugging brown dress when she talks about Tatum. They have been dating since last autumn.

Then, as if by magic, he texts.

“Aw, he wants to know what suit he should wear for his meeting,” she chuckles, gazing lovingly at her screen.

It seems safe to ask how they met.

“Uh uh, no,” she says. “Chan and I got photographed before our relationship was even a thing and that created such pressure. We’ve needed time to get to know each other. We’ve just had our first holiday together, which was wonderful, but that’s all I’m saying.”

Is it fair to say she is happy living on 21 Jump Street?

“Oh I am very happy on 21 Jump Street! I always look for a guy with a good sense of humour and good morals. And hygiene. A man who showers is very important.”

It’s almost ten years since Essex-born Cornish became famous with her self-penned hits Do it Like a Dude and Price Tag. She was a contemporary of Adele’s at the Brit performing arts school, and enjoyed Top Ten album success in the UK and US. Yet in the UK she seemed to get bogged down in pointless debates over her sexual preferences (she was heavily criticised for explaining her bisexuality as a “phase”), and moved to the US in 2014.

“First and foremost I regret ever tweeting it was a phase,” she says.

Why apologise? It was a phase, wasn’t it?

“It’s a hurtful expression for some. But I was young. Aged 19, I was madly in love with a woman and I moved in with her. She was not my first girlfriend either. I was heartbroken when that relationship ended, but then I dated guys and women. I was a young woman experimenting between the ages of 20 and 30 like anyone should.”

Behind the scenes, life has become quite serious for the singer. Cornish has struggled with a heart condition called Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome since she was eight years old, and suffered a minor stroke in 2015, forcing the cancellation of some tour dates. Then she was diagnosed with adenomyosis, a condition in which the inner lining of the womb breaks through the muscle wall. It can cause agonising stomach cramps and heavy periods. It can also indicate a heightened risk of miscarriage or premature birth. It was a brutal blow.

“The pain I’ve been through with this disease is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face,” she says. “I get severe pain, which I have to manage, and psychologically, well, having children was always a big thing for me. I may be infertile, which, not gonna lie, would be devastating.”

Adenomyosis doesn’t preclude having children, but doctors offered her a hysterectomy, so I can only conclude that her case is serious. She declined the operation and instead pinned her hopes on a change of diet. She hasn’t eaten sugar for four years, and two years ago she went vegan.

“Basically, I am still hoping. Some days it seems possible I might have children and others not. I have to accept that becoming a mother is going to be a battle.”

Cornish is disarmingly frank. She has even channelled her anguish into a song called Four Letter Word. “Baby” is the four-letter word in question. The lyrics address her feelings of heartbreak to a notional child: “I pray I get the chance to bloom,” she sings, “cause someone’s ready for me, waiting to feel all my love and make you with me.”

She isn’t about to discuss whether Tatum might be waiting, but she has met his six-year-old daughter, Everly, from a previous relationship. I suggest that must have been hard.

“God no! She’s just six and absolutely lovely,” she says.

Of course there are other ways she could have children . . .

“Oh yeah, I might go down the route of adoption or even surrogacy. I pray I have children the natural way, but if not, I’ll deal with it.”

Cornish has just returned to our screens as a judge on ITV’s The Voice Kids, a junior version of the adult singing talent show. She beams at the very idea of mentoring 7 to 14-year-olds.

“Oh my God, when a seven-year-old sings a solo you just want to cuddle them. It’s a totally different feel to the adult version of the show.” Cornish was a judge for four years on this version too, before she left in 2013.

Cornish is warm, funny and open. It seems extraordinary that another journalist last year charged her with an “unbearable earnestness and an astonishing lack of humility”.

“Oh, but I cringe how loud I was in the past sometimes,” she says.

She once complained that the UK didn’t take her voice seriously. Nevertheless, she has established a global career. Tomorrow she flies to perform in Romania, then returns to London briefly before setting off to her second home in Los Angeles.

“I’ve been performing since I was a kid, so to me life is work work work. Obviously my health issues mean I’ve had to learn balance. I now have Sundays off. I wake, have a probiotic, then a celery juice. After that it’s breakfast and then a workout. If I’m in London I Iike to walk through the city and then I’ll go home, meditate and then cook.”

In LA the weather is more reliable. She might head off camping or hiking for the weekend.

“I’m happy outdoors and I’m happy around people. Don’t I look happy to you?”

I’d say she looks reasonably content. But then her phone pings again. A broad grin speeds across her face. Now she looks happy.

The Voice Kids continues tonight on ITV1 at 8pm

JESSIE J’S PERFECT WEEKEND

Pilates or personal trainer?

Personal trainer

Clubbing or pubbing?

Pubbing, but no alcohol

Spa retreat or cultural city break?

City break

Soy chai latte or builders’ tea?

Peppermint please

Signature dish?

Vegan mac’n’cheese

What’s your screensaver?

A picture of my family

Love Island or Scandi box set

Love Island

I couldn’t get through my weekend without . . .

Comfy clothes

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keelywolfe · 6 years

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FIC: Two Degrees of Jeff, part 1

or more properly: Two Degrees of Andy Jeff

Summary: Two days in the life of Andy...er....Jeff, and his skeleton friends.

Notes: I’ve always liked an outside perspective on my favorite boys and Jeff’s is fun to write. Warning for mentions of depression.

Also on AO3

By Any Other Name masterlist, recently updated!

~~*~~

The Beanery was, by far, not the closest coffee shop to Jeff’s apartment. By his reckoning, the bus took him past two Starbucks on the way here. He didn’t mind going out of his way to meet Stretch, though; thanks to the ‘Monster Friendly’ symbol stickered on the window glass up front, they could pretty much guarantee being able to meet in peace for a coffee and a chat.

Not that they’d had any issues past the whole ‘bus incident’ but eh, why take a chance? Plus, they had great coffee.

On this particular morning, Jeff got there early so he could buy his own coffee before Stretch could do it for him. Passive-aggressive, maybe, but hey it worked. He wasn't quite at the same level with the baristas as Stretch was, but she gave him a smile of recognition before taking his order.

Twenty minutes later his coffee was gone, and he was still waiting. The buses in Ebott were pretty dependable and to be honest, so was Stretch. He loved texting, Jeff couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t send one or several if he was running late, probably laced with bad jokes and puns.

He gave it ten more minutes before sending one of his own. hey, you running behind? Not to get on your ass, I know you don’t actually have one

At the very least, that should have gotten him an lol, and more likely a bombardment of terrible jokes. But his phone remained stubbornly quiet.

Jeff chewed his lip, considering. He could text Edge, let him know he was a little worried. The problem with Edge was he didn’t do anything by halves and would probably be on his way home or send out the hounds or something. They were meeting for coffee, not planning world domination, there was no reason to hit worst case scenario right out of the gate.

Option two was to take a ride over there himself. It was only about a fifteen-minute ride and another bus would be here in five. If Stretch didn’t get off the bus, then Jeff was getting on it, he decided. He gathered up his stuff, tossed his cup in the trash and gave the barista a wave before he went out to the stop.

A few monsters got off the bus, one of them he recognized from the wedding and they gave him a toothy grin as they walked past. No skeleton monster though, so Jeff scanned his bus pass and took a seat. With his luck, Stretch was on the next one and they’d be like ships passing in the night, but eh, he’d rather risk acting like a bad romantic comedy than just sit there waiting.

No text came, no sign that Stretch was only running late. At the gate to New New Home, the guards checked his ID diligently even though Jeff was here a few times a week, and Jeff thought he might mention that to Antwan, let him know they were doing their jobs right. It was probably boring hanging out at the guard station all day, they could use some recognition.

The shuttle dropped him off and the brief walk to the house offered no answers. Edge’s car was gone, no surprise there, and a peek in the garage told him that his motorcycle was inside, beneath a heavy dust cover. Not that he thought Stretch had taken it out for a spin or anything; from what he knew, Stretch hated driving which was why he stuck to the bus.

Jeff knocked hesitantly on the door, then a little harder, and waited. The minutes ticked by and after a moment of internal debate, Jeff gingerly turned the knob. The door swung open, unlocked, into the darkened front room. Okay, now he was getting more than a little concerned.

The living room offered no clues, and neither did the kitchen. Not so much as a coaster was out of place, only a coffee cup was drying in the dish rack. The coffee pot was on, at least, half a pot still sitting on the warmer, but there was that faint, burnt smell in the air that said it had been there for a long time.

Jeff had never been upstairs and felt like an invader going up them, every creak accusatory.

The first room was locked and he left it alone. The second was a guest room, the blankets drawn tightly over the bed with military precision and the paint a welcoming sunny yellow. The third revealed a large bed, the blankets and pillows rucked up around a shape beneath them.

Okay, now he knew where Stretch was, so what did he do? Jeff shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, trying to decide. Let him sleep? But maybe he was sick or hurt or something, maybe he needed help.

It felt so completely wrong to walk around the bed, leaning in to get a look at him.

The covers were rising and falling ever so slightly with his breathing and his sockets were closed. It really was fascinating the way their skulls moved; they weren’t pliable like human flesh but somehow it worked. Magic, the universal answer to all Monster questions.

“Stretch?” Jeff whispered, reaching out to gently shake him, trying again, “Stretch?”

He stirred, his sockets blinking open. His eye lights were wide and almost fuzzy, and Stretch looked at him in confusion.

“andy?” Stretch asked, his voice rough. He cleared his throat and sat up. The blankets slipped down and left him bare to the hips and Jeff felt his face warm, looking away.

It was a note on how much his perspective had changed that he could be embarrassed to unintentionally see some naked bone. But then, Edge and Stretch didn’t look like Halloween decorations or science room displays; their bones were kinda similar to humans but not completely. Plus, they were so very obviously alive, their magic was visible in their joints, and the way their skulls were somehow malleable. They were Monsters that looked like skeletons, an important distinction.

“andy?” Stretch said again, and his gaze sharpened, taking in the room. “what...uh…” He hauled the blankets back up a little more modestly.

“Sorry, I was worried,” Jeff said meekly, a little embarrassed at coming all the way out here to creep into Stretch’s bedroom like a fucking idiot. Should have texted again or maybe knocked harder, he should’ve done something. “You weren’t at the coffee shop and…”

Stretch’s groan interrupted him, and he flopped backwards on the bed. “fuck, i’m sorry, i just…i was having a bad day and i went back to sleep.” He didn’t seem worried about Jeff sneaking into his room like an idiot, but then, that was Stretch all the way. His concepts of proper behavior were a hell of a lot looser than the ones Jeff had grown up with. “i completely forgot we were supposed to meet. i’m really sorry.”

“It happens,” Jeff shrugged that off. To be honest, he was only relieved that nothing was wrong. Except— “Is everything okay.”

There was a long pause as Stretch seemed to actually consider the question. “yeah. i think so…shit,” he said suddenly, “i haven’t been outside to see the chickens, don’t even remember shutting off my alarm.”

“You want some help?” Jeff asked, equal parts hesitant and curious. “I haven’t seen the chickens yet outside of Instagram.”

That got him a grin. “sure, handy andy, come on out and live up to your name. give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll meet you downstairs.” He hooked a thumb at the door and Jeff went, sitting on the sofa until Stretch tromped down the stairs, dressed from toes to throat in jeans and a heavy sweatshirt, a bright knit hat on his skull.

The chicken coop looked sort of like a gingerbread house, except instead of Hansel and Gretel, three birds came barreling out of an entrance near the bottom, clucking eagerly as they waited by the wire mesh gate.

“sorry, gals, it’s a little late,” Stretch sighed, gently pushing them back with his toes as he opened the door. The chickens milled around his legs, getting even louder as Stretch poured feed into a little trough. They were bigger somehow than Jeff expected but what the hell did he know about chickens? He was more familiar with them in their nugget form.

Stretch left the door open as he came back out. “give them a minute and they’ll wander out to inspect you properly. c’mon, let’s have a seat.”

Beneath a large tree was a frankly charming little patio that wouldn’t be out of place at a sidewalk cafe, with chairs and a small table. Stretch dusted fallen leaves from both and sat down.

“you’d think the leaves would drive the Edgelord nuts,” Stretch said, stifling a yawn, “and that he’d have them bagged and tagged before they hit the ground, but he actually likes them. tries to say they’re good for the grass.”

“I like them, too,” Jeff admitted. “I didn’t see too many leaves where I grew up.”

“yeah?” Stretch chuckled. “me either. okay if i smoke?”

“It’s your yard.”

“it’s your lungs.”

Jeff shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me, go ahead, just exhale the other way.”

It was chilly out, well into October as it was, but in a good sort of way, the kind you could enjoy on your face so long as the rest of you was bundled up. There was a faint hint of smoke as Stretch lit his cigarette, but the breeze carried it the other direction. They were both in warm sweatshirts in the same autumn colors as the leaves, and it was nice to sit out here and watch the chickens, take in the breezy air.

Or at least Jeff thought it was, until Stretch tapped the ash of his cigarette into an ashtray on the little table, saying quietly, “i really am sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jeff insisted because seriously? What else did he have to do anyway? Nothing that he’d enjoy more than this, for sure.

“except for how you had to drag your ass all the way out here,” Stretch said. It was his tone of voice that was really bringing home how serious he was. Stretch had, not an accent exactly, but a way of speaking that was sort of laconic, his words rounded and easy. Right now, he sounded more like Edge, all crisp syllables.

“It’s not even twenty minutes and I was coming here later to meet Antwan anyway,” Jeff countered. “I didn’t have to take an Alaskan expedition or anything.” For a minute, he thought that was it and they could move past this, maybe enjoy the morning.

“you should probably know i’m not a very good friend,” Stretch said abruptly, ruining that hope. “i have a fuckton of problems that edge already has to deal with, so i won’t blame you if you want to back out of the whole friend thing.”

“Seriously?” Jeff groaned. “Man, you overslept one time. What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“No but…look, it doesn’t make you an asshole to not want to deal with me.” He exhaled long and slow. “i have depression with manic episodes, ptsd, plus a laundry list of issues i could put together for you.”

“Okay,” Jeff said slowly. “So, you’ve got a diagnosis. From your therapist?” Something about that made a flash of discomfort cross Stretch’s face and he ducked his head, looking at his untied shoes.

“yeah,” he muttered.

“Good, that’s much better than WebMD. Besides, if you look there, it’ll probably say you have cancer.” It made him laughed a little in a way that sounded more like him and Stretch shook his head as Jeff went on, “We’re friends, okay? Even if you fuck up sometimes. Besides, this gives me an opportunity to fuck something up.”

Stretch gave him a wobbly smile. “you think you’re going to fuck something up?”

“Oh, I know I am,” Jeff said matter-of-factly, “If there’s one thing I’m great at, it’s fucking up. But if we’re both fuck ups then we make the best of friends, right?”

“i’m not sure that theory pans out. might need a little more study.”

“Sounds good.”

The chickens had wandered out of the coop during their stroll through the emotional minefield and were at their feet, shuffling through the leaves. Jeff flailed a little when the largest one hopped onto his leg, riding his wild movements easily and plucking at the front of his shirt.

“Oh,” Jeff stared at it in surprise, his hands rising and falling as he tried to decide what to do with them. “I didn’t know chickens were…friendly.”

“these ones are pretty friendly,” Stretch grinned. “they’re all hens. you can pet her, go ahead, noodle likes it.”

Hesitantly, he did, stroking the soft white feathers as the chicken clucked. “Oh,” Jeff said again, softly, “they’re nice, aren’t they.”

“They are,” Stretch said. His tone was a little odd, a little quiet, but Jeff’s attention was on the chicken in his lap. The other two came over to inspect his shoes, demanding their share of his attention and Jeff couldn’t help laughing, trying to pet all of them at once while Stretch only sat at watched him, lighting another cigarette and smiling.

end part 1

Read Part 2

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name #let stretch have a chicken 2k18

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knightofbalance-13 · 6 years

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https://rampantlytyping.tumblr.com/post/174581718969/for-fuck-sake

“Oh, it gets worse. Because I’ve read the archives of KOB’s reddit account. (Link here for reference, someone may wanna archive this in case KOB pulls a Delete Fucking Everything)

Never before have I seen something that would backfire so hard.

First of all, I’d recommend a look at the very first comment on that Reddit account, which was a screed about FatManFalling’s Volume 3 review. So much of modern KOB can be traced back here- has hatred of the word “the” and insistence on trying to replace it with “teh,” his long paragraphs, condescending attitude and personal attacks/insults (Also, for the record, “Fatass” is one of the worst mocking nicknames I’ve ever see on Reddit).

Actually-

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5jdst1/cowardly_lion_taiyang_fanfiction/

This is. Thing is: this would HUMANIZE me. But god knows you can’t think of your opposition as human.

First is mischaractization.

Second is not a moral argument.

Third is conflating me being angry with who I am normally.

And fourth is downplayed since this whole post is nothing BUT a personal attack.

Also: Never said I was clever.

There’s also this post after Volume 4 which is basically “So the RWDE tag sucks amirite?”

No, the title is what I meant.

But a relevant comment that Caddeter and @psyga315 should see is this one. I’ll quote it directly, emphasis mine at the end:

Backfire in 3...2...1

“Now I know many of you are thinking “Why should I care?”

Well, because these people are in a dangerous mindset of ignoring everything that isn’t their opinion and warping that to justify their feelings.

I gave a comment on this journal pointing out the flaws in his work. The closest thing I said to an insult was saying that his usage of the term “man-pain” was stupid in any context. And when I admitted I wasn’t aiming towards him but his audience who weren’t sure about V3’s finale, he blocked me, deleted my comments (EDIT: he’s admitted to being wrong about teh previous two and has restored my comments. Still blocked but I have a way around it that he knows) and warped my words. Something he claimed Miles and Kerry did, minus the last part.

I ask of you: Say what you think about this. And not just the journal, what you thought of Pyrrha’s death. Not what he said, not what I said. But what you want to say.

Now GO!”

Now, if I was a generous man, this in context could be KOB asking for discussion on the Reddit.

I am not a generous man. To me, it looks like KOB deliberately inciting the Reddit post-Volume 3 (when they were most protective of RWBY as it was the last season that Monty would have definitely worked on) and encouraging them to dogpile the journal author.

Yeah...

Three things:

A. The time period this was made is post Volume 4, Not 3. So that’s bullshit.

B. https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5khw9y/my_thoughts_on_pyrrhas_death_rwby_and_rt_by_jswf/dbo9z0v/

Oh hey look, there’s someone disagreeing witrh me and I ENCOURAGED them. So that’s also bullshit.

C. https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5khw9y/my_thoughts_on_pyrrhas_death_rwby_and_rt_by_jswf/dboysk7/

Okay everyone, I have to ask that no one goes to the link and comments. The author is getting too stressed out by his debate with me and I don't want him to break.

So please, keep your discussions here.

Outright contradicted. Three strikes, you’re out.

And the worst thing? He had no empathy to the situation. Quote (again, emphasis mine):

“Well, don’t fight him. He’s…not right in the head.

Like I was arguing with him and he…wanted to kill himself.

And I didn’t even try being mean.”

Remember that in the Deviantart comments, KOB said that he could be “far far far crueler.”

As evidence by this post, where I am going to turn EVERYTHING against you. https://comments.deviantart.com/1/619991269/4290345087?offset=25#comments “*Sigh* Look, I never meant for you to get this stressed out. Hell, I understand where your coming from. Thinking about killing myself is such a common occurrence now I'm not even fazed by it anymore. So putting aside my feeling towards you and your conduct, I want you to listen to what i have to say: Your life matters. No matter what you think I've said, no matter what other people have said, no matter what you say, your life matters. You have friends and family who love and care about you and if you kill yourself, all it will do is wound those around you. It's painful I know but it's true. The best thing you can do is seek help above all else. Trust me, psychiatrists maybe be expensive by by divinty' sake they are miracle workers. And I know you're sick of hearing about this anime but really, look up Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. That anime is a large part of why I get out of bed in the morning even thought I know there's a very good chance I'll choke to death on my breakfast, lunch or dinner or that my life probably doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It taught me to keep moving forward no matter what I lose or what I suffer because there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The journey is hard and long but it's worth it. I never intended on hurting you. Had I known you were this psychologically fragile or you were this invested in Pyrrha I would have said nothing. I understand where you are coming from and I'm sorry I did so much damage to you. I was wrong and you were right. Good day.” No empathy huh? “Also while I’m here, how about this long callout post about RWBY Analysis after she was angry at some art from Dishwasher that had Enabler undertones (complete with the classic “I used to respect you” card which you can always imagine someone saying within the context “I used to respect you when you agreed with me.”). And here’s her reaction, which should be recorded alongside the Great Fire of London as one of the greatest burns in history.”

Ah yes, a callout post...Where I didn’t call her out once...

But I guess the actual post looks pretty fucking bad for you (https://knightofbalance-13.tumblr.com/post/172361707730/httpsrwby-analysistumblrcompost172345982047) since it is short and-oh yeah-SHE WAS SLANDERING SOMEONE. Good job completely missing the point eh?

But sure Knight of Balance. Tell us all about how you never meant for any of this to escalate and how sorry you were. It’s not like your own accounts show you to be a liar who instigated a harassment campaign and showed no empathy upon hearing that it was partially successful. You can surround yourself all you want with your little cabal of white knights like Sunder the Gold and MageKnight who will go to bat for you when they can. You can claim all you want that what you do is a crusade to purify RWBY and Make The FNDM Great Again or some bullshit like that because you seem to think that if you kill RWDE, Miles will personally fly out to thank you for saving RWBY. And you can even run to other fandoms like Darling in the Franxx or FLCL where your name isn’t poison. But we all know what you are.

I didn’t mean for thing to escalate as evident by how I TRIED TO STOP IT,

No empathy when I actively tried to call him down MYSELF.

That sounds pretty fucking ironic considering that you surround yourself in haters like Dudeblade and Cadder there who will never ever think to question you or themselves. But as for that Sunder thing.. Well I’ll get to that latter but let’s just say, it’s a show of self control how I’m not screaming my head off.

Oh and you’re any different? You probably think ‘I f I get rid of all the fanboys, M&K will HAVE TO listen to my obviously not biased criticism and I’ll Make RWBY Great Again! Then Monty Sempai will rise form the grave to thank me for saving his legacy!’

Please, I’d sit Miles down and give him a lecture on how a timeline is VERY important for a long running show and keeping time skips vague to ‘avoid plotholes’ would in fact make MORE of them. Though I’d probably force him to attend a writing class, Just because I respect the guy doesn’t mean I see him as flawless.

Yerah, doesn’t work when I did the EXACT SAME THING I did here in Franxx. I obviously do not care about my reputation worldwide.

Here’s the thing: I do not regret many things in my time on the internet. I regret not asking about internet customs so i could know things like alt accounts were a bad thing. I regret my raging outbursts at innocent people because I was an immature fuckhead. I regret interacting with RWBYcrit. ... That’s it. My fight against RWDE? My battle against shitty critics? I do not regret that one bit. I fought for what I believed was right and got to meet amazing people along the way. I think I’ve even grown as a person. So no dice bitch.

You’re a schoolyard bully with a stick and anger problems. You’re a child throwing a temper tantrum, unaware of how if Miles or Kerry saw what you’ve said and done, they’d be disgusted in you and would shame you for the world to see. You are nothing. In the grand scheme of life, this will be your legacy. You will never amount to anything significant in this lifetime, and your life peaked before you even hit your twenties. KOB, I really hope you realize how in just under two and a half years, you have made nearly the entire fandom hate your guts.

... And?

Oh you thought this was gonna hurt me? You think you saying I have anger issues is gonna hurt me when I’ve acknowledged that as one of my worst traits. You think telling me Miles and Kerry would be disgusted with me is gonna hurt me when I am not them, they are not me and I am fighting primarily for myself? You think you calling me worthless and saying I will never amount to anything in my lifetime when I’m a fucking existentialist AKA someone who believes that there is no inherent worth in life? Bitch, I say worse things about myself every day.

And the rest is either lies (the fandom as a whole, even on Tumblr, DOESN’T CARE ABOUT ME.) or shows you’re projecting onto me (’You’re a bully!’ says the bullies.)

Let me break this down: We all hate you on Tumblr,

God, stop projecting your ego onto me, I know the fandom as whole on Tumblr doesn’t care about me.

You haven’t shown your face on Twitter

https://twitter.com/KOB13x

Shows what you know.

and when someone cited you in a Reddit post, everyone warned them not to link to you because you’re a toxic influence.

Considering how you’ve been posting links throughout this whole post, why should I believe you if you suspiciously DON’T provide proof of this. And again: stop projecting your ego onto me.

For Christ’s sake KOB, FatManFalling can get his stuff posted on R/RWBY. It’s extensively mocked, yes, but it’s still allowed.

To the point it regularly gets kicked off reddit for having massive downvotes.

You’re so bad you haven’t even got that privilege. Let that sink in and realize what it says about you.

A. Proof

B. Not the same context.

And C. I don’t care.

Because this is coming from someone who tried throwing Sunder The Gold under the bus by saying he associates with me. DESPITE the fact that we haven;’t talked to each other in MONTHS. Why did you say this then? Oh right, Sunder is a fan of RWBY ergo he must be eliminated right? Because anyone who doesn’t conform to your fucking hivemind and treat the show AND ESPECIALLY the creators like shit is a heretic right?

That’s why I do this. Because you people are fucking AWFUL in every sense of the word. Everything you just tried to pin on me applies to YOU instead and then we can add on EVEN MORE and EVEN MORE DISGUSTING shit to that pile.I don;t like Steven Universe but I am JUST as disgusted by SU‘s fandom and it’s bullshit. This has nothing to do with RWBY anymore, this has to do with you people DESTROYING INNOCENT LIVES. That is YOUR legacy: the ruins of people’s lives and the destruction of a show people hold dear all because you decided to embody the WORST aspects of humanity.

In short: Fuck you.

Oh, PS:

https://knightofbalance-13.tumblr.com/post/162724070290/rampantlytyping-knightofbalance-13-hey

Guess you’re in the same boat as me eh?

#rampantlytyping

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