#so improvising until I can make a decision

[angesaurus]

Getting up at 5am is so painful when you feel like you tossed and turned half of the night 😭

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

I’ll Take Care Of You

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: sick Lando, smut

You weren't supposed to show up at the Las Vegas GP because you had your own business commitments, but knowing the state Lando was in, you decided to drop everything and come with him. You knew he needed you there and there wasn't a second of doubt in your mind whether or not to go with him when you saw how sick he really was.

After Brazil, Lando was not feeling well mentally. He couldn't sleep, he wouldn't eat or drink, his mood was at zero and all of this affected his immune system which resulted in him falling ill just before the Vegas GP.

Your heart ached seeing him like this because you knew there was nothing you could do except be there for him until he got through it. The only good thing about all of this was taking the pressure of being a world champion off his shoulders until next season at least.

Before the Vegas race, Lando could barely function, to be honest. His nose was blocked, his head was pounding, and he could barely hear in one ear.

As you closely followed the race in the garage, it no longer mattered to you which place he would take, you just prayed that he would finish the race safely and successfully so you can get him out of there.

So once the race was finally over, you were relieved, and so was he. When he got out of the car and took his helmet and balaclava off his head, he immediately looked for you with his eyes.

"Baby.." You looked at him sadly, approaching him and extending your arms towards him. "Are you alright?"

"Hey, love" His head fell onto your shoulder as he buried his face in your neck, pulling you closer to him. "I feel so sick" He sighed quietly and you immediately put your palm against his forehead to check his temperature.

"Lan, you're burning"

He was exhausted, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open and head up. He desperately needed to rest and all you wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Go get changed and we're going to the hotel, okay?" You tell him.

"No, I don't wanna go to the hotel, I wanna go home." He says.

"Lan, you can't get on a plane like this. You need to get some rest first and then we're gonna go home"

"No, please baby, I just wanna go to our home, please. I really need it. I know I'll feel better as soon as we get home." He whines. You sigh for a moment just looking at him as you ponder if this really is a smart decision. "Please" His eyes plead and you finally agree.

He was clinging to you the entire flight, holding his head in your lap and trying to sleep. He still had a fever so you improvised compresses to put over his forehead.

Lando wasn't sick often, but once in a while when he caught a cold, it would wipe him out. It was the same this time. He was bedridden for a week, and you were there every day taking care of him. He wasn't even exaggerating, he was really sick and you were worried he would get dehydrated or his condition would get worse. You even wanted to take him to the emergency room, but he promised he was fine and just needed you by his side.

Once he finally felt well enough to get out of bed and go further than the bathroom, you felt a pair of arms hug you around your waist as you prepared lunch in the kitchen.

"Hey, baby" Your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Hey" He smiled nuzzling his head into your neck and leaving a kiss.

"Are you feeling any better?" You asked.

"Mhm. My throat is still a little sore, but I feel much better." He says in a hoarse voice.

"Well, good then." You rise on your tiptoes to leave a kiss on his cheek. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. You really got me worried."

"Thank you for taking care of me" He smiles putting your face between his hands.

"You don't need to thank me for that. I enjoy doing it."

"I know, but that's my job - to take care of you and me."

"You know how they say, 'in sickness and in health'." You both laugh considering you're not even engaged yet, let alone married even though people around you keep asking you about it all the time.

"Do I hear the wedding bells?" Lando asks.

"I don't know, do you?"

"I think I do." He smirks biting his lip before pressing his lips against yours knowing it's only a matter of time before he proposes to you.

Although he felt better physically, he still hadn't mentally recovered from the 'defeat', even though he didn't want to admit it. But it gave him away when you looked for him on his side of the bed in your sleep and couldn't find him.

You squinted at your phone to see what time it was and when it showed 2 a.m. you found it strange that he wasn't there because he usually sleeps all night.

You headed straight for the living room where you found him on the couch in front of the TV. He was lying down in his boxers, watching TV, but his gaze was thoughtful and you knew something was bothering him.

"Lan?"

"Baby, what are you doing awake?" He asks extending his arm for you to lie down next to him.

"I have the same question for you." You say taking a place next to him and leaning your head against his chest.

"Couldn't sleep, I was tossing and turning the whole time. I got up so I wouldn't wake you up."

"And why couldn't you sleep?" You ask, but he stays silent. "Baby, what's bothering you? Talk to me, please."

"You already know what it is" He sighs tracing his fingers over your shoulder. "But I don't wanna talk about it anymore. I really don't, I just need to get through it."

"Is there anything I can do about it?"

"You're here with me. That's all I need." He says placing a kiss to your forehead.

But you were determined to do something, anything, to make him feel at least a little better. And what's better than satisfying him to relieve him of frustration and tension.

Besides, it's been over two weeks since the last time you fucked. You'd be lying if you said you didn't need him in the same way and you thought tonight was the perfect opportunity for both of you so you straddled him and started kissing him gently.

He gave in to the kiss, not yet realizing what you were up to. It was only when you slowly started grinding your hips against him that he smiled into the kiss.

"What's on your mind, baby?" He asked gripping your hips.

"Just wanna make you feel better" You said moving your lips to his neck. He moaned throwing his head back and you felt him starting to get hard underneath you.

You soon positioned yourself between his legs and pulled his boxers down. He quickly got rid of them, throwing them aside, and you began to kiss him around his length.

"Wanna please you" You said between kisses.

He took his cock in his hand and tapped it against your lips. You stuck out your tongue and licked his tip making him groan in response. You teased him by slowly licking him up and down and he was starting to get impatient.

"Baby, please" He whispered stroking himself against your lips.

"Please, what, Lan?" You asked innocently, stopping his hand and cupping his balls.

"Put it in your mouth"

His breath catches as your lips finally wrap around his cock. He collects your hair into a ponytail and tilts his head to get a better look at you taking him all the way in.

You keep taking him deeper and deeper until his tip hit the back of your throat and you gag around him.

"Oh fuck.." He moans while his fingers keep raking and twirling in your hair. Your hand soon replaces your mouth as you spit on his tip and stroke him up and down. You don't want him to cum this way, you want him to cum inside you and you know he's close so you straddle him again guiding his cock to your entrance.

"Fuck, baby, fuck" His hands are pulling your night dress up to reveal your ass and grab it. He lets out a low groan as you slowly sink down on him. Leaning back, he shifts his hips up to adjust how he's sitting.

"You feel so good, so big inside of me" You whine as your rock your hips back and forth.

"Yeah?" His eyes are stuck on you as he grips your hips tighter and presses his lips against your neck.

"Stretching me out so good, Lan, shit" You make special effort to compliment him tonight as you keep on riding him quickening your pace.

He grips your ass tighter pulling you down harder on him. His breath is ragged in your ear and it makes you take him deeper and harder needing him to lose control. And you know what's coming next when you feel him twitch inside you.

"I'm cumming" He chokes out triggering your own orgasm. You clench around him as he fills you up biting his teeth into your skin.

He hugged you tightly, kissing your forehead while you lay leaning against his chest, barely catching your breath from the sweet release you both needed so desperately.

"I love you" He whispers. "I love you more than anything"

[laligraves]

all alone

serial killer!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~ 4k summary: You catch the attention of a serial killer. masterlist | AO3

warnings: dark!Joel, HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), some proofreading, no outbreak AU, 70's/80's AU (not really committed to a specific time but let's say before the 90's), murder/violence, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, slight degradation, outdoor sex, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: hello y'all! sorry for being so MIA. it has been a rough 7 months. but I watched the pitt and now I have inspiration to start writing again (random, I know) 🤍 also this is only slightly proofread

Two days. 

It took two full days for you to bury the body. Six feet, loads of soft dirt, and all his belongings.

You couldn’t exactly go into a store and buy a ladder or a shovel. So you improvised. 

There were enough rural, abandoned farms in Texas that you could sneak onto the properties without being seen and take the things you needed. You have more than enough experience stealing, so you only had a mild worry about the gun-happy folk in this state. 

You found a dirty blue tarp to wrap his body, and once the hole was deep enough, you rolled him right in. You dropped all his belongings in there, too. It probably would have been a better idea to scatter his things throughout your road trip, but you were just too damn tired to care. 

You kept only a few things: his truck, his gun, and the money. 

The money was all your plan. It was a simple heist that involved robbing a small bank, with Anthony as the gunman and you as the getaway driver. You had the floor plans you found using your intelligence and charm. Therefore, the only issues were the security guard and the 8-minute response time from the police. 

Anthony and you were on the highway in 7 minutes. 

But he became too greedy with the money. At first, you were okay with him spending a few at the casinos, but the drugs and strippers became an annoyance. When he walked back into your hotel room with the stench of vodka and perfume, the idea to kill him, to rid yourself of this parasite, had crossed your mind. 

When he called you, drunk and delirious, to pick him up from the 7th strip club of the week, you listened. And when he told you to pull over on an empty road because he wanted to fuck, you grabbed your knife and stabbed it into his eye, straight into his head. 

Blood splattered all over the inner cabin of his truck, and he flailed in pain until red dripped down his entire front. 

It wasn’t a smart decision. You had to park the truck in the back of the hotel, away from the street lamps, while you walked discreetly back into your room to grab all of your belongings. 

You managed to wipe away most of the blood once he was six feet underground, and you thanked your now-dead boyfriend for his decision to choose a truck with an all-black interior. 

There were no tears or regret, only a sense of much-needed relief. He wasn’t necessary for your plans, just a pretty face to look at and a good shot. Until he began wasting your fucking money. 

But luck has to run out at some point. 100 miles away from his grave. 

The smoke billows out from underneath the hood of the truck. You’ve tried everything you can to get it to start, but the engine is completely fried. 

“Ain’t nothing we can do,” the mechanic says, wiping away sweat droplets from his hairline, “gonna need a new engine for it to work.” 

“Okay,” you say, “how long will it take to put in a new engine?” 

He wipes his dirty hands on an even dirtier rag and reaches for a stack of papers. 

“ ‘bout a week. Just need you to fill out this paperwork and we’ll get started on payment.” 

Your heart drops. Fuck. A week is too long. 

“Any chance you can find a new engine sooner? I’m somewhat in a rush, my sister is getting married in three days,” you lie easily. “No matter the cost.” 

He shakes his head, giving you an apologetic smile. “Those engines gotta be special ordered. If you’re in a rush, I suggest takin’ a Greyhound or plane to wherever you’re goin’.” 

Fuck, Anthony. He just needed a brand new truck with difficult-to-find parts. 

“Whatever you do, don’t hitchhike,” he leans in, whispering, “too many people have gone missin’ on this side of Texas.”

One of the other mechanics calls his name and he walks away, putting up his finger to let you know he’ll be right back. You take the opportunity to slip out of the garage, leaving behind the truck. You don’t care what happens to it, it’s under one of Anthony’s aliases, and even if it was under his real name, they have no way of connecting him to you. 

There’s a gas station just a block down the street, so you figure you can try your luck there for some directions to the nearest greyhound station. You drag the suitcase behind you, a firm grip on it as people pass by on the sidewalk or in cars on the street. Everyone seems friendly, most of them smile and say “good afternoon,” which has you feeling more at ease. 

If you weren’t so hell bent on making it out west, you could imagine a life in this small town. There’s cute shops in the downtown area, trees lining the sidewalks, and parks with people enjoying their afternoon.  

The cashier at the gas stations hands you a pamphlet with the bus information and two quarters to use the pay phone once you give her the same story. You thank her, but deny the change, once again surprised by the town’s kindness and make your way towards the pay phone. 

The pay phone is right next to a board full of job posting, community event reminders, and… missing persons flyers. You open your wallet and take out change, sliding two quarters in the slot, and dial the phone number to the bus station. 

As you listen to the hold music, you begin to read some of the flyers. 

Jesse Smith. Male. 32. Last seen 01/08/70 on Tulson Road at 8:59 P.M. speaking to an unknown male in a dark colored pickup truck. 

Sasha Conner. Female. 27. Last seen 03/15/71 on Lake Avenue at 2:46 A.M. speaking to an unknown male, tall with brown, wavy hair. 

James Gonzalez. Male. 26. Last seen 05/22/72 on Wilson Street at 1:47 A.M. in an verbal altercation with an unknown male. 

“Jesus,” you whisper in fear, “I wonder if it’s the same guy?” 

The line cracks and you hear the voice of another person. 

“Thank–for–57th station–how–help–” 

“Hi, I’m sorry,” you say into the receiver, “the line is cutting–hello? Can you hear me?” 

“Are–for–times–hello?”

You hear the voice for a few more moments over static before the line completely cuts out. 

“Damnit,” you murmur. 

Before you can slide another quarter into the slot, a deep voice startles you. 

“These payphones don’t work, sweetheart.” 

You spin around, coming face to face with a brown-haired man. 

“Whoa,” he laughs, “didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.” 

How did he sneak up behind me?

“No,” you say, “it’s fine. So the payphones don’t work?” 

He shakes his head, strands of wavy hair brushing his forehead. He’s attractive in a rough sort of way, like a man who uses his body for manual labor everyday. He has a few scars on his arms and face with gray strands scattered throughout his hair. 

“Ain’t worked for awhile,” he points to the entrance of the gas station, “that’s why they give out those quarters. Just being nice cuz the owner ain’t fixin’ it.” 

You place the phone back on the stand with a resounding thunk and take a deep breath. You could try the diner across the street, maybe they have another payphone or a phone they could let you use. 

You need to call the bus station first, find out which buses are heading as far west as possible, then a taxi company to get you there. 

“Joel Miller,” he says, sticking his hand out for a handshake. “If it’s a ride you need to the Greyhound Station, I’d be happy to help.” 

He motions behind him to a pickup truck. It’s shiny in the sunlight, and looks well taken care of. You accept his handshake and suppress the flutter in your lower belly from the strength in his hold. 

“How did you know where I was calling–” 

“I don’t like seeing young girls alone,” Joel interrupts, motioning towards the pamphlet in your hand, “it’ll be dark in a few hours and Lord knows it ain’t safe out here.” He points to the bulletin filled with the missing persons flyers. “The town is nice during the day, but at night…” 

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. You can handle yourself on your own, it’s been that way since you were a teen. You’re quick on your feet and you know you’re way around a revolver or a pocket knife, but the thought of a serial killer on the loose while you have no way of leaving does frighten you. 

But, you’re not naive. Most men don’t offer anything in this world without wanting something else in return. Especially handsome men like Joel. 

“I can pay you–” 

“No,” Joel interrupts again, “that ain’t necessary.” 

So, he wants something else. 

Joel picks up your suitcase and puts it in the backseat before he helps you into the passenger side. His car smells like leather, pine tree air freshener, and cigarettes. 

It’s only a faint smell, and if the box of mostly full Marlboro reds in the cupholder says anything, he probably only smokes every once in a while. Joel hops into the driver’s side, flashing you a quick smile, and starts the engine. You pull out the map you carry in your purse and quickly find the city you're in. 

“So according to the Greyhound pamphlet,” you say, showing Joel the pamphlet the cashier gave you, “it’s on Thompson Street and 20 minutes away–” 

“Yeah, yeah, sweetheart,” he interrupts, waving his hand, “I know a shortcut. We’ll cut that 40 minute drive down to 30.” 

“It says on the pamphlet that it’s 20 minutes from any part of town—” 

“There’s some construction goin’ on. The drive around town is a lot longer. Don’t worry, about it.”

Joel rolls down the windows of the truck and switches on the radio to a country station. You don’t miss the glances to your exposed thighs, even if he tries to be subtle about it. You don’t mind. You like the way he looks at you, and most importantly, you like how he looks. 

There’s always a seed of doubt present in your mind when you meet new people. It’s difficult to trust others when you’ve been wronged so many times, even recently with Anthony. Joel is a large man, broad and tall, with enough muscle in his arms that he swung your suitcase into the backseat so easily despite it being heavy. 

If he wanted to, he could grab and toss you around with minimal effort. And as you watch him sit in the driver’s seat, thighs spread wide, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the back of your seat, you suddenly crave violence. 

You squeeze your thighs together at the thought of him gripping you tight while he fucks you hard on the hood of hid truck. You feel the heat of his hand, resting behind you on the leather, not quite touching you but close enough for you to know it’s there. 

“Thanks again, Joel. You saved me from having to find another phone. Or wait for a taxi.” 

He turns to look at you again, giving you another smile, the wrinkles around his eyes more prominent when he does. His eyes do a quick once over, but you still manage to notice how they linger. The sundress you wear has ridden up even more now that you’re sitting down. 

“No worries,” he says, “gotta make sure you get to your sister’s wedding, right?” 

You look at him in surprise. 

“I overheard your conversation with the attendant,” Joel says, answering your question before you can ask it, “I wasn’t followin’ you outside but I just needed to know you’d be okay.” 

You turn to look out the car windows, noticing that he’s driven out of the town and into the countryside.

“Oh,” you say, feeling relief. “So are you a local?” 

“Something like that–woah, I think I turned myself around. Would you mind takin’ out your map? The construction that’s going on has me all turned around,” Joel laughs. 

He grabs the map from your hand, touching his fingers to yours. Your breath catches in your throat at the warmth radiating from him. 

“Think we’re on Road 51,” he says, pointing to a spot on the map. “We’ll need to drive straight for a bit until we get to Daley Avenue and make a left.” 

You lean over to take a look at what he’s pointing at, but he folds it up and hands it back to you. “How’s a pretty thing like you end up out here?” Joel asks. 

“Hitched a ride to this town,” you say, already having an answer prepared. 

Joel looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “And where were you before?” 

“Living with my boyfriend–well, ex-boyfriend, a few towns over.” 

Joel shakes his head. “Ex-boyfriend? Can’t imagine any man letting go of a woman like you.” 

If only you knew, you think to yourself. 

“Sorry,” Joel says quickly, “ain’t tryna make you uncomfortable. But you oughta know how pretty you are.” 

There’s a warm glow in your lower belly. You can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the saltiness of his sweat. It’s been a while since you were fucked, properly fucked. Not the quick, boring moments with Anthony that made you more annoyed than relaxed. 

“No, it’s okay. I enjoy the compliments,” you say, giving him a smile. “You’re not too bad yourself.” 

Joel laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Haven’t heard that in a while.” 

“There’s no one calling you handsome at home?” you ask, running a finger through his thick hair. 

It’s a bold move, one that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t do. But the sun is setting, the breeze coming in from outside the truck is fresh, and the sound of his voice is clouding your senses. 

Joel makes a left turn onto a road you don’t catch the name of. There’s more trees and an endless road ahead. 

“Can’t say there is,” he murmurs, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Now I suggest staying put in your seat, honey. Don’t play with this old man’s feelings.” 

“Should I play with something else, then?” 

Your hand reaches down to his jeans to palm his bulge. He groans, quickly veering right and straight into the patch of trees. You yelp in surprise, bouncing in your seat, but he parks the truck and drags you to his lap. 

You hear the thunk of your purse hit the truck floor and slide underneath the seat. The thoughts you had earlier, of Joel being dangerous, still linger in your mind. He's quick, strong enough to pull you into his lap and hold you tight against the bulge in his jeans. 

And it scares you. 

But in a fucked up way, it also excites you. His hand slides to the back of your neck and he brings your head down, connecting his lips to yours. Your dress has ridden up, exposing the pink cotton of your panties. You grind down on the rough material of his jeans, shivering in his hold as the goosebumps rise on your skin. 

He kisses with an intensity you’ve never felt before, but one that you’ve craved while you're alone in bed, dreaming of a blurry silhouette who can make you breathless. Joel tugs at straps of your dress, pulling them down and exposing your bare breasts to the warm air. 

You test his strength, wriggling in his lap and pushing gently against his chest, but he immediately grips your hands and brings them behind your back, thrusting his hips into the softness between your legs. 

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” Joel growls. 

He attacks your neck, dragging sharp teeth over sensitive skin and down your chest, finally reaching the peak of your breast with his tongue. You grind down on his lap, gliding your hands through his thick hair to bring his head closer to your tits. 

Joel groans against you, the sound vibrating on your skin while he laps at your nipples. Your legs have turned to jelly at this point, and you’re positive you’ve made a mess on his jeans from the wetness seeping through your panties. 

There is a swirl of heat in your lower belly, the tightening of your inner thighs, and the slow trickle of exhilaration that courses through your veins. You’re close, your orgasm teetering on the edge as you bounce and rub your clit in his lap.

“Sweet little thing,” Joel murmurs, dragging his lips over your chin, “so sensitive.”

His hands roam from your tits down to your thighs and ass, where he grips hard, keeping your hips flush with his. 

“Anthony ain’t ever make you feel this good?” 

For a second, you think you imagined it, that you’re conjuring up words that weren’t even spoken. But it only takes another second for you to realize what he said. Your body freezes in fear, blood turning ice cold in your veins, as your mind rushes to understand why Joel would say Anthony’s name. 

“Nothin’ to say?” Joel whispers, “or maybe you just kill ‘em when you get bored?” 

“Fuck you.” 

With those words, you manage to punch him in the throat, catching him completely off guard. You slide off his lap and fall to the truck floor on weak knees, blindly looking for your purse that slid underneath the seat. Joel tries to grab you by the hair just as you open the passenger door. By the grace of God, your hand connects with metal, your pocket knife, and you climb out of the truck. 

You don’t have time to waste, so you make no intention of taking your luggage or trying to find your purse. Joel is already climbing out after you, screaming your name into the darkness as you run into the trees. 

“Don’t run,” Joel yells, “we were just gettin’ to know each other.” 

“Fuck off, creep!” 

You zig zag through the trees, stumbling through the branches and moss. The sun has gone down completely, so you have nothing but silver streaks of moonlight to illuminate your path. Despite his age, he runs fast behind you, thundering steps that echo all around you. You don’t dare turn around and see how close he is for fear of tripping or losing speed. 

There’s a break in the trees, a patch of grass and in the distance, a wire fence. If you can get through that clearing and climb over that fence, maybe, maybe, you can find a house with people that can help you. 

But luck has to run out at some point. 

You trip, in some stupid, twisted fate, right as you make it out of the trees. You land face first into the soft grass with a loud oomph, momentarily stunning you. You try to regain your senses, managing to get up on your knees, but a large body immediately falls on top of you. 

Joel pushes you back down, easily dodging the swipe of your knife. He brings both of your hands behind your back and takes your pocket knife, throwing it far away. 

“Get off of me, asshole!” 

He laughs at that, undeterred while he flips up the back of your sundress and lands a sharp slap to your left cheek. Embarrassingly, you whimper. There’s so much adrenaline running through your body, fear melting into heat through your veins, that you become aware of every single touch on your skin. 

The night air, the soft grass pressing on your knees and face, the feel of his rough jeans on the back of your thighs, Joel’s hand holding your wrists together, his erection that presses against the wet cotton of your panties–it’s all too much. You’ve never felt this sensitive or vulnerable before. 

“I know it was you, the person who killed all those people,” you spit out, “all those descriptions match you, Joel.” 

“Oh yeah? Guess we got one thing in common,” he says, pulling down the zipper of his jeans, “we like to hunt.” 

“No,” you scream, feeling the rip of your panties and the push of his tip to your entrance, “I’m not–I’m not like you–fuck!” 

You’ve always been proud of how wet you become. How easy it is for you to become aroused and slide your fingers, or toys, or whoever you wanted, right between your tight walls. But in this instance, it almost feels like a curse. Joel slides in, punching his hips in one fluid motion, stopping only halfway as you tighten around his length. 

You figured he was big, everything about this man is big. However, this is new. The sensation of being stretched to your limit or ripped open, you're not even sure. Another thrust of his hips and loud groan from him and he’s fully in, his hands, gripping your hips while he takes a break. 

You don’t even try to fight, don’t try to use your now free hands to push away or fight. You can only breathe in short exhales, too tired from the running and too full of his cock to bring oxygen into your brain. Joel, on the other hand, is breathing heavily above you. He curves himself into your back, pressing hot kisses on your shoulder. 

“I knew you’d be fuckin’ sweet,” Joel groans. 

“Stop,” you whimper, fully aware of your leaking pussy and the tight grip you have on him, “let me go.” 

You don’t even believe the words coming out of your mouth. 

“You were in my backyard, honey,” he says through gritted teeth, “shit, you almost found the bodies.” 

“What the hell–oh, God–” 

Joel slowly pulls out, his thick length dragging along your walls, leaving just the wide head of his tip inside of you. His hand slips between your thighs to rub tiny circles over your pulsing clit. He plunges in again, this time harder, pushing right against your cervix. 

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ perfect,” Joel murmurs.  

“Joel–” 

“Saw you drag the body into the hole,” he says, “too bad you dropped his ID.” 

Your body shakes and jolts forward with each of his thrusts. It doesn’t quite matter how you ended up here, your body has betrayed you. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, covering his length and jeans in sticky juices. 

“You–you followed me,” you stammer, “fuck, Joel! You fuck–fucking followed–oh shit–me.” 

He spanks you in three harsh slaps, each followed by the slam of his hips. “Course. I. Did.” 

You wish you had the mental capacity to ask more questions, to try and understand how he found you and what he wants from you. But, he keeps splitting you in half, rubbing his cock through your folds and back into your pussy. 

His lips find your neck and he licks a path from your shoulder to your spine. Joel bites, sucks at your skin, leaving indents of his teeth on your back. His fingers speed up on your clit, bringing you right to that peak. 

“Just like that, sweetheart,” Joel groans, “take that cock.” 

Your fingers rip at the grass as you thrust back onto his cock, squeezing your walls, doing your best to keep him locked inside of you. 

“Little slut’s gonna cum, ain’t she? Killed her boyfriend,” he groans, frantically thrusting into you, “only four days ago and–and already comin’ on my cock.” 

“No I’m not,” you lie, “I’m not–” 

You push back, breathless and vision blurring, as the force of your orgasm sweeps through your body. A scream erupts from your throat, echoing through the empty field, while Joel pistons his hips, never stopping his movements. 

“Cum f’m, honey. Show me what this pretty pussy can do,” Joel groans. 

He lets your upper half fall forward completely into the grass, and then you feel it. The pulse of his cock inside of you and the flood of warmth. He groans your name repeatedly followed by his crude pet name for you, little fuckin’ slut, draining my cock, aren’t ya’, slut?

Joel's cum fills you, drips out of you from how fat his cock is in your tiny pussy. With another, final harsh thrust, he drops on top of you. You don’t know how long time passes with the both of you lying on the ground. 

His nose is pressed into your neck and you hear his rough breathing. Your thighs begin to ache and you feel warmth from where he spanked you. You wiggle beneath him with barely any energy, but he’s quick to wrap a hand around your throat. 

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” 

“You had your fun, Joel,” you whisper, “let me go.” 

Joel squeezes your neck gently and rolls off of you. You’re surprised, wondering if that actually worked. Before you can hoist yourself up on weak legs, he grabs you and spins you around, throwing you over his shoulder. 

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart.” 

You don’t have the energy to fight him.

[auroralwriting]

your beauty never scared me

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

you’re scared no one will ever love and understand you, but spencer always has.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: a bit of unrequited love, comfort/angst/fluff, negative self thought, spencer is always a sweetheart, reader has a darker aesthetic

Maybe it was the fact that you came from a broken family from a young age. No, you didn't have a bad childhood, but it wasn't ideal for a young girl growing up.

It could have been the bad high school relationships, full of boys who didn't understand how to treat a young woman. Stuck at their stupid baseball games or waiting for them to finish their video game, sitting alone on their bed waiting for them to finish.

The most likely cause for your fear of love was simply the fear that no one would ever truly understand you, and therefore, never be able to love you right.

If you looked deeper, though, much further past the surface level, deep into the core, you would've realized that Spencer Reid had been there all along.

When you first joined the BAU, Spencer Reid was a typical little nerd, the glasses he wore even fulfilling the stereotype. His rambles about anything and everything were endearing, and lead you to begin your friendship with the man after he told you the history of your favorite movies.

"...its distinctive style with his signature blend of dark humor and whimsy. His imaginative vision, influenced by German Expressionism, is evident in the film’s surreal sets and exaggerated character designs. Burton’s decision to cast Michael Keaton as the chaotic title character and his encouragement of Keaton’s improvisation contributed to the film’s memorable, unpredictable energy. The innovative special effects and makeup, along with the creative set design by Bo Welch, further showcased Burton's unique approach."

By the end of his rant, Spencer had expected you to have been completely focused on anything else, but your eyes were trained on him, a small sparkle flickering in them.

"Spence, how do you know do much about Beetlejuice? You haven't even seen it before." you'd chuckled.

"I think Tim Burton is an interesting director. Maybe we could, uh, see it together sometime? If you want, of course." Spencer awkwardly fiddled with his fingers, the suggestion of the two of you hanging out outside of the work settle rattling his nerves.

You had given him a big smile, beneath your dark clothes and makeup was a heart of white and gold, a truly captivating soul. "I'd love to, Spencer! I own it, so you can come over whenever."

"Whenever sounds good," Spencer paused, thinking about what he had just said. "I mean, Thursday?"

"Thursday it is, boy genius." That name was usually reserved for making fun of Spencer, but the way you said it actually made his heart flutter.

Spencer would've never guessed that the girl, clad in dark clothing, the complete opposite of his own aesthetic, would be interested in hanging out with him. Then, it happened. And it happened again, and again, until you became friends.

Your friendship with the doctor grew. As you got closer, Spencer began to identify your fears and your tells. You played with your hair when you were nervous, bit the skin of your fingernails when you were anxious, tapped your foot or bounced your leg when you were impatient. He began to understand you on a deeper level.

It began to be the same for you. You knew his likes, dislikes, fears and worries. You understood his struggles with his mother and father, how sometimes this job didn't feel like enough until he made a true difference in someone's life.

Spencer Reid and you had connected in nearly a cosmic level, and that began to scare you.

It was two and a half years after Spencer had met you when he realized he had been falling in love with you for nearly a year. His small crush had grown exponentially. After Haley Hotchner's death, you'd taken in Jack for several days while Hotch planned the funeral and began to clean the house from the murders. Jack had taken to you quickly; he'd gone as far as to call you his favorite aunt.

Seeing the level of compassion and helpfulness you had displayed for Hotch made Spencer begin to realize that your friendship was beginning to move to the next level for him.

He began to think of you night and day, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing, what your plans were. He wanted to be with you, to feel your skin, linger in your existence. It wasn't until JJ had explained to him that that feeling he felt was love that he began to understand that you were in no place for him to admit his feelings.

Spencer never meant to profile anyone unless he was working, but he found it hard to not with you. He noticed your lack of dating, how even when you had the chance, you evaded it. He noticed your disdain to the notion of true love, or love at first sight, or even soulmates. It didn't take him long to piece together that it wasn't a hatred of love, no, it was a fear of it. However, he could never understand the why of the fear.

Now, you and Spencer had met five years ago. You'd both physically changed in looks over the time, but your friendship only remained and grew passionately stronger.

After the death of Emily, and finding out she didn't really die, Spencer had you as his rock. You grieved together, to the point that for three weeks, you lived with Spencer in his apartment. After you'd left, Spencer realized that he couldn't live without you anymore.

Spencer and you sat on his couch, the cold September month made you crave an early Halloween movie. So, Spencer put on his own copy of Beetlejuice he bought a few years back. The soft glow of the lamp cast warm shadows across the room, and the faint scent of popcorn lingered in the air. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, blending with the soft rustling of the movie’s soundtrack.

"I like Adam and Barbara," Spencer hummed as he watched the screen. "They make a really good couple."

You nodded, "I guess they do,"

Spencer's brows furrowed at your words. "You don't sound convinced."

"I don't know," You shrugged, sitting up and crossing your legs. "He's sort of controlling over her. It's just too much, she's a strong woman."

"You mean he's protective over her in the afterlife filled with dead people they didn't even knew existed?" Spencer raised a brow, turning to you. "I'm pretty sure that's relatively normal."

Turning your attention back to the screen, you replied, "I guess so,"

Spencer sighed, finally deciding to ask you the question he'd been avoiding for too many years now. "Why are you so scared of love?"

His question made you turn back to him, a confused look on your face. "What?"

"You're so pessimistic about it. You always avoid dating, talking about it, anything to even do with love." Spencer explained. "I'm just curious, why?"

"Because, there is no way love that strong exists." You concluded, folding your arms over your chest. "That's why it's all in the movies. It's fake for a reason."

Spencer nearly chuckled at your words, finding himself in disbelief. Sure, he didn't really believe in soulmates, but he definitely believed in love. "Sure love exists," Spencer said. "True love has to come from somewhere to be spoken about. It's why its so deeply rooted into art and literature. Plus, with the psychological evidence of--"

"Okay, okay," You put your hands up in mock surrender. "I believe you, Spence." You'd never cut off one of his rants before.

"This bothers you," Spencer noted, his arms mocking your previous stance as they folded over his chest. "Why does this bother you so much, what aren't you telling me?"

You let out a huff of air in reply, your defences kicking into full gear. "Why do you care so much?"

Spencer stuttered over his words, “Uh- because it clearly affects you! It’s not hard to notice your dislike of it, and I want to know.” Spencer defended. He could see it in your eyes, though. You were too good of a profiler to not know he was lying through his teeth.

“The real reason?” You sharply replied, hating that Spencer was lying.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Spencer’s voice was filled with desperation. “Here you are, constantly belittling the idea of love when that’s all I want to give to you, and I don’t understand why.”

His words cut you like a knife. You hadn’t expected him to say that, let alone feel it. It almost made you feel guilty. “No one has ever understood me, Spencer. I don’t want to settle for just anyone who will pretend for their whole life that they know me when deep down they will never be able to understand who I am, what I need.”

“You think I don’t?” Spencer challenged. He tried not to feel offended at your words, truly. Yet they hit him like a slap to the face. He felt like he understood you.

“Okay, prove it then.”

Spencer was ready for this, “Your least favorite cases involve those with divorced parents. Not because of the affect on their children, but the affect it takes on them. You hate to see when it hurts one of them, or both.” Spencer’s first claim was true, and it caught you off guard. “You hate anything with a pumpkin scent, however, you enjoy real pumpkins because of their look rather than their scent. You bite your lip, tap your foot, shake your leg, all when you feel negatively.”

“Anyone could profile that,” You weakly replied, feeling thrown off at Spencer’s careful acknowledgment of your little tells.

“Are you afraid of love because no one will ever understand you, or because you’re scared you’ll never find someone who will.” Spencer finished. He watched as your mouth opened and closed, the words not quite making it out. “I see you, I hear you. My favorite thing is when you tell me things about yourself, your day, your feelings. Any day without you is a bad day and any day with you is a good one.”

Spencer’s words left your heart beating faster in your chest as you began to realize this is what you were looking for all along, but your own fear that you would never find it blind sighted you to the truth. The truth that Spencer Walter Reid was in love with you.

Spencer often recalled his own struggles with relationships, remembering the long hours he spent studying while his peers socialized. With him being so much younger, he had no way to truly connect with them. The sense of isolation he felt growing up made him cherish the connections he built later in life, driving him to seek genuine understanding and affection. On the other hand, your own problems with family and bad relationships drove you to hold a near-resentful feeling to love. It made you feel like it was something you could never have. That was something Spencer was beginning to see from your perspective.

"Please," Spencer's voice was softer, more vulnerable as his eyes pleaded with you. "say something."

"I'm sorry," you breathed. For a moment, Spencer thought you were about to reject him, until he saw the glistening tears form in your eyes. "I-I should've known sooner."

Spencer nearly chuckled, "I didn't want to make it too obvious."

"Spencer?" you asked.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Why do you love me?"

Your question made his heart nearly crack at the raw fragility your tone held. All he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and sing you sweet nothings until you believed him, but right now that wasn't an option. "I love you because you're unapologetically you," Spencer's reply made you finally lock eyes with him. "You're so sweet and kind, you never try to hide the things you like and dislike. You're so bold and brave. You make me feel so alive, so wanted. Every moment with you is a reminder of how extraordinary it is to be around someone who radiates such genuine warmth and enthusiasm."

"You really love me?" Your voice felt meek in comparison to how your normal assertiveness and bravato sounded. Your heart felt three times bigger in your chest as a tear dared to slip down your cheek.

Before it could even leave your eye, Spencer brought his sleeve over his hand and soaked it up gently with the cuff. "I love you with every part of me."

"I think I want to love you, too." you admitted. It felt hard to say those words, to finally give into your darkest, most vulnerable desire of unwavering love.

"Even with your fears, you're beautiful." Spencer softly reached to graze your cheek. "This, your fears, nothing could ever scare me. I'll teach you to let me love you if I need to."

"That better be a promise," you slightly chuckled, holding your pinky out to the man.

Spencer smiled, locking his pinky with your own, "It's a promise."

As you held Spencer’s pinky in your own, a sense of peace settled over you. The weight of your fears began to lift, replaced by a tentative hope. "Maybe love isn’t as impossible for me as I thought," You whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. Spencer’s smile was both a promise and a comfort, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in your lives.

[chacaillejdr]

How to write a TTRPG scenario ?

As a TTRPG campaign author, I’ve struggled for years to write scenarios that were coherent, that would not be derailed by players nor would force them onto rails, and that would allow escapism while keeping them hooked. I fumbled a lot until I found a method that I found quite efficient. So I thought I’d share. Of course, what works for one might not for another, but if you’re a beginner in TTRPG scenario writing and you don’t know where to start, well, you never know, this might help you.

The first phase is of course to make a rough draft. Just pour in a text document every single idea you have, without any filter : characters, cool scenes, story twists, gameplay elements… take your time, let your mind work in the background. Then organize every item, see what works with what, what would make sense in a chronological way… and fill the holes between the elements. This would give you a first draft of your scenario, something that should fill about two pages (regardless of whether your scenario is a one-shot or a full campaign).

At this point, the most adventurous GM would have enough material to start an improvised game. This requires a very specific skillset and a lot of memory. You do you, but at this point, I’ve only just started my preparations.

If you want to keep enriching your scenario, you’ll find yourself facing two issues : first, the more structure you have, the less freedom you’ll leave your players, because you have your “canon” on what should happen in your story ; and second you might miss holes in your scenario that your player will certainly have a lot of joy (or confusion) pointing out in the middle of a game. So here’s the trick. Find who is the main antagonist in your story (whether it’s a Dark Lord or your rival in the Most Beautiful Garden Contest, if your RPG is not a sandbox you will have an antagonistic force, else your players won’t have much to do…). Now re-write your scenario, from A to Z, but FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF THE ANTAGONIST, as if the players were not here, or were naive enough to fall into every single trap. Why ? To deal with both your issues at the same time of course ! On the one hand you can’t control your players’ decisions, but you can do it for your NPCs, so you CAN place your antagonist on rails and compensate every time they go astray without impeding on your players’ freedom. On the other hand, by writing out the details of your antagonist’s dastardly plan, you increase your chances to see a blatant error or omission and correct it.

Once this is done, you’ll want to identify the key elements of this plan, those that your villain absolutely need, else their objectives crumble. Those will be your “fixed points”. Your mission as a GM is to ensure that these fixed points happen no matter what your players do, in order to guide them along your main scenario. The remainder of the plan will be your “mobile points”, which your players will have way more control over. This will create a structure for your story, and you can complete the scenario with the mobile points, leaving as much freedom to your PCs as you want in them.

There’s one last task before you finish your story. Now that you have every step of your scenario, maybe even a division into chapters using the fixed points, you can do three lists : 

the places your players will visit

the NPCs they will meet

the lore elements they’ll have to learn

Using these three lists, you’ll be able to re-write one last time your whole scenario. Now you’ll have a rich story, with a way more formidable antagonistic force, and more freedom for your players.

You can totally start your campaign using these documents, using the three lists as reminders

Of course, if you’re like me and you like to Plan Out Everything in advance, you’re only at the beginning of your work : every place, every NPC, every fixed and mobile point will need their own detailed page ; and some more elements will need detailing. But we’ll talk more about it in a future article, so stay tuned !

[keelt9]

BET A MOLE, BET A KISS Pt.2

Masterlist // Pt.1

Nothing more relaxing than after 6 hours of sleep, a grosseri shopping in the morning; not the most healthy one.

Cookies, chips and some fruits too; after all it was a hard week. Plus Charlie is now at home too.

With a half of cookie in her mouth she realises in the hallway that goes to the living room, there is a black bag and brown suitcase.

“Morning.” Oscar perks from the stairs. 

“You're here!” Y/N runs upstairs leaving the bags crash on the floor.

Oscar hates that she runs on stairs, she could fall or hurt, silly but that's what it is. “Don't ru…”

She crashes with him taking all his breath away, as he laughs.

“Hi.” Oscar said as she saw his face. 

“Hi.” She has that cute smile on her face.

He notices next to his face there is a half red velvet cookie, causing her to giggle. “Really, you don't drop the cookie?”

“It's a delicious cookie.” Y/N eats the rest of the cookie, notices a strange sensation in her ribs. 

Looking down she finally saw two markers, red and black.

“Are you doing something?” Y/N taking a step back. 

“Well.” Oscar smiles to himself. “While I was winning, by the way…”

Every time, winning or not, Y/N makes sure to give him a special cuddle; sometimes it's a lovely hug, a face covered with kisses, refuse to leave his hands for as long as she can or his favourite, lately, that heart stop kiss. 

Like now, a kiss that is hard not to follow for the way she puts her hands at both sides of his neck as he's set the pace of the kiss, first goes tender until he makes sure to remember in detail every curve of her lips on his.

“Congrats champ.” Y/N said before giving him a last peck. “So are you making something?”

“Oh, right, well, while I was flying back home an idea with a twist came to my mind.”

“Ok.” Y/N switches her face, she concentrates now.

“I want to bet my moles.” Y/N laughs, she didn't mention it because she wants to try it, only because that causes curiosity in her.

Y/N grabs his face, giving him a peck. “I didn’t say that with a purpose, you asked me what ignited my curiosity and that was.” 

“I know, but I want to try it.” Oscar said, seeing her shake her head. 

“Why markers?” She grabs it, thinking, are we serious about doing this?

“How could I know you’re not cheating?” Y/N scoff rolling the markers among her fingers.

“Waterproof?” She scoffed. “Are you actually planning this, huh?”

Oscar nods. “Ok, but first, I’m hungry and I just left 3 bags of chips on the floor, so we have a few things to do.”

After an improvised breakfast as a quick cleaning, they go to the room with the markers, conscious they’ll be there for a long time.

“Wait…” Y/N stops, placing both of her knees at the side of Oscar's waist. “What if I win…”

Oscar smiles, that’s a question that already has a clear answer. “We can’t do anything you want me to do for a week, so…I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Y/N smirks. “Anywhere?” 

“Anywhere.” She giggles. 

Oscar touched the side of her thighs. “What if you win?” 

“Oh, I want an honest answer and full will.” He licks his lips.

Y/N sighs. “My vacations are close, and for a month I won’t leave your side. Going to the race weeks isn’t that hard.” She leaned down to kiss his lips.

“It’s not about the race, it’s kind of dreamy from you thinking once you tell me you’re on vacation, I’ll leave you here.” Both of them giggle against each other's lips. “Nice try.” 

Oscar loves having her like this, without worries, just relaxing as she plays with each other's words. Outside of those four walls, the world could collapse and still, he will be holding her tight, like now. Her hands holding his face as he holds her waist.

“Is something more than a 3 second decision.” Y/N narrows her eyes. 

“Ok.” She opens the red market but Oscar realizes they miss an important specification. 

“Wait, tell me your range.” He stretched his hands to take the noteblock she has in her night table, taking the black market too.

Y/N scoff. “Do we actually need to write it down?” 

“It’s called being fair, my love.”

With names and numbers written down and glued to the headboard of the bed finally, the counting starts; with laughs, love touches and some of them are more naughty than others. 

For Y/N it was hard to focus from time to time, on the other hand, Oscar enjoyed the moments where her face burns red and the teasing is enough for she smiles sitting back as she takes a deep breath getting her focus again.

Her touches are so delicate and precise that Oscar needs to take deep breaths too to concentrate, just for making sure she’s actually counting and not cheating, the perks of having a surgeon as a girlfriend.

“Done!” Y/N sat back on his lap raising her eyebrows.

“Who wins?” Oscar sits properly, refusing to leave her standing from his lap.

Y/N smirks, making Oscar impatient, when she lifts her eyes from the note she previously took where she writes the number, she tilts her head with a smile. “Are you sweating?”

“A little bit.” Oscar giggled. “Having your girlfriend all over your body kind of makes you sweat, you know?” 

Y/N laughs but pouts. “I guess my dream trip must wait.” She turns around the note, the number that Oscar writes has a smiley face next to it.

Oscar sighs in relief, making Y/N push him softly due she misunderstands his sighs.

“It's not for that!” Oscar grabs her face and puts a kiss on her forehead. “Ready?”

Y/N nods with a calm face. “Remember to think about it deeply before answering, ok?”

“Oscar, I he…” Oscar takes out a small velvet bag from down on the pillow. “Do you have everything prepared, huh?” Y/N chuckles, still doesn’t get what the bag is related to the question.

“I have a good feeling about this.” She smiles but with a conflicted one, the circle shape marks in the tiny bag.

“You know I appreciate you giving me jewelry but…” She grabs his hands over the bag. “Most of the time my hands need to be free of everything and the tingle sounds on my neck are distracting but…”

“It’s not that type.” Oscar turns her hand making a delicate ring fall in the palm of her hand. 

Y/N hiss as her heart beating increases, the beeping on her clock announces it, Oscar takes a deep breath, preparing himself.

“Y/N… D…”

“YES!”

Y/N grip the ring throwing her arms around his neck, not even letting him ask and more less thinking for more than 3 seconds, Oscar laughs holding the back of her head.

He softly whispers at her. “Can I at least ask you properly?” She laughs splitting, in her eyes are already tears but she takes a deep breath.

Oscar takes the ring of her hand. “Y/N, would like to …?”

Y/N sobs, nodding as Oscar softly puts the ring where it belongs, tingling his finger with hers.

“It was worth it, right?” Y/N wipes her tears with confusion. “Bet my moles.”

Y/N shakes her head laughing. “I love you so much.” She said kissing him over and over again. 

“It’s not a soft lunch, NOT AT ALL!” Charles almost ripped his neck from Oscar's body, when he found it in Austria.

Oscar laughs consciously that outside of the building, a lot of cameras are waiting, not precisely for all the drivers. 

“We haven’t said anything.” Oscar insisted for the 1947 time of the day.

“You hav…” Charles takes a deep breath seeing Albon walks and reaches them. “It’s not like you need it!”

“You post a story where you can clearly see her, so cute by the way…” He lifts his phone, showing him the screenshot he took. 

Oscar laughs, shaking his head. “We were having breakfast, and, yeah, holding our hands.”

Charles bluffs. “I went with you to buy that ring, I know what it means!”

“Not counting the rock in the middle.” Albon chuckles seeing his phone. “Where is she? I want to congratulate her, well, both of you.”

“Somewhere in the hospital working.” Was the last words of Oscar before a swarm of drivers found him hugging him as they congratulated him for the big news.

They haven't said anything but a photo speaking more than a thousand words.

“Ok Oscar, take one last look please…” Tom mentions approaching him with a tablet in his hands with a mischievous smile on his face.

On the screen you can see Y/N arriving at the McLaren garage as under the line of her name you can read it, Oscar Piastri’s fiancé.

Oscar smirks as his cheeks turn pink. “Sadly you need to get into the car, like 10 seconds ago, so people make sure she is there when the race finishes.”

Oscar nods, putting the helmet on adjusting to his balaclava, going inside of the car, as people surround him.

Tom leans on the car. “Side note Oscar, it will be nice if you win this time.” Oscar's eyes narrow, a sign of a smile before Tom walks away to his spot.

“Box, box.” Y/N hears Tom's voice, as multiple mechanics run to their places with all they need. 

Her anxiety began when the left back tyre wasn’t coming out, the sound of the cars passing and the anxious glances from the main console isn’t the most relaxing thing.

For the cameras you can see the mechanic hit the tyre a couple of times before finally coming off; quickly Oscar rushed himself reaching the rest of the cars, still, the clock of the pit stop set 3.5 seconds. 

“Ok Oscar. Verstappen, Lando, George and Leclerc ahead. 13 laps remaining.” Tom mentions as the full team moves around the control panel setting the strategy that put him back in the first place.

In the first laps, Oscar passed Charles in one soft movement around a corner. Reaching George was tough, he had warm tyres and Oscar barely put him on temperature, still he managed to pass him seeing Lando so close; he could take the risk and push him or wait until the tyre warms, still 6 laps remaining. He pushes him, overtaking in a beautiful move that leaves Lando confused as Oscar passes at his left.

“Verstappen, 1.4.” Tom indicates Oscar. “Soft tyres.”

Oscar mumbles something as Y/N bites her nails, only 4 laps remind and Max is pushing trying to increase the gap.

“He will make it right?” Mark laughs seeing her walking to the limits of the wires allows her.

“OH! Max blocked him in the 2 corner!” Y/N hears, seeing the replay of Max blocks, closing the space in that corner for impeding the pass of Oscar. 

Y/N mumbles twisting her fingers “Let’s go babe, three more laps.” 

Max doesn't hesitate but he tends to let his emotions push him, in the straight he tries to increase the gap…until the car decides another thing, turning slippery causing him to lose for a second the car as Oscar pushes this time blocking the corner.

“I can’t see!” Y/N tries to cover her eyes leaving a gap between them observing the last laps, it’s like a pure haunting decided for .101 of difference.

When the flag waves, Oscar was the first one to cross that line.

“Great, great race Oscar, well done.” Tom congratulated him.

“Nice job guys.” Oscar's heavy breathing is heard. “Can you make sure my fiance is watching?”

Y/N's face is about to explode when she hears Oscar, hiding her face in her hands as Mark told her to follow the guys to the podium. 

With the helmet on after celebrating with the team, Oscar walks to the left side where Y/N is waiting with a red face and wide smile. 

She hugs him tightly as he laughs lifting her from the ground. 

“That’s not a soft launch.” Y/N claims as Oscar takes the helmet off. 

Y/N touches the lines of the helmet left on his face as Oscar giggles. “I can’t kiss my fiance properly with that.”

Y/N smiles as he leans capturing her lips in a soft kiss, hands on her waist as hers taking the helmet trying to cover their faces from the cameras, a small issue the ring is at plain sight for photos.

[loredrinker]

Solas, Checkmate, and the Pieces in Play

After reading @nadas-dirthalen's insightful post on Rook and the Inquisitor’s collaboration and the Inquisitor's role in Veilguard, a chess theme arose and I started thinking about the redeem ending through the lens of chess. 

Excited by the idea, I reached out to my brother, an avid chess player. What began as a simple idea grew into the detailed breakdown you’ll find below. 

This post explores how Rook, Inquisitor Lavellan, Morrigan, and Mythal align with certain chess pieces, followed by a move-by-move analysis of the redeem ending.

Let’s start with a breakdown of the pieces and who they align with.

*still works for a high approval friend Inquisitor, I operate in a Solas/Lavellan world state so this post reflects that.

The Rook 

Movement: The rook moves any number of squares in a straight line, either horizontally (along ranks) or vertically (along files), but cannot jump over other pieces. 

Role in Chess: 

Dependable and straightforward, the rook commands control over open lines, dominating ranks and files. 

It creates openings and fortifies other pieces, making it essential for both attacking and endgame strategies. 

It can play a sacrificial role, achieving a greater strategic goal. 

Rooks work best when paired with other pieces, representing strength, support, and reliability. 

Rook as...well, obviously the Rook 

The rook often doesn’t come into play until the board is developed. In this case, Inquisition and Trespasser set the stage (board), and Veilguard introduces Rook, continuing the play.  

Just as a rook defends key positions, Rook’s role is also about protecting Northern Thedas.

A rook’s ability to shift the board’s dynamics (disrupt the board) mirrors Rook’s impact on the narrative. Rook’s improvisational nature gives them an edge in the "endgame" of Solas’s failed ritual, where their unpredictable choices lead to outcomes that even Solas cannot fully anticipate. 

Rook’s role often involves finding clear paths forward, whether through solving problems, bridging gaps between characters, or making decisive moves. 

By giving the dagger back to Solas, Rook takes a calculated risk, akin to a rook sacrificing its position for the greater strategy, relying on others (Lavellan and Mythal) to achieve the ultimate checkmate. 

The Queen 

Movement: The queen is the most versatile and powerful piece, moving any number of squares in any direction - horizontally, vertically, or diagonally. 

Role in Chess: 

Often described as combining the powers of the rook and the bishop. We know the power of a rook, the bishop adds foresight and planning. 

As the most powerful piece, the queen is both an ideal attacker and a prime target for the opponent.  

The queen symbolizes power, flexibility, and dominance, capable of commanding the board and turning the tide of the game. 

It works best in coordination with other pieces, setting them up for decisive moves or amplifying their impact. 

Lavellan as the Queen 

The Inquisition is the reason Varric and Rook are searching for Solas - fulfilling the bishop-like, foresight aspect of the queen by setting events in motion. 

Her ability to adapt to challenges and situations mirrors the queen’s versatility and range on the board, switching between political negotiation (mediates conflicts between Ferelden and Orlais) battlefield commands (makes decisions that impact the Mage-Templar divide/Grey Wardens), and personal connection. 

In Veilguard, Lavellan’s entrance during the climax is akin to a queen stepping onto the board at a critical moment.

Like the queen’s ability to dominate the board, Lavellan commands respect across Thedas. While Rook handles the immediate aftermath of Solas’s failed ritual, Lavellan works to unify Southern Thedas. 

Lavellan doesn’t act in isolation. Her actions amplify the contributions of others, much like a queen coordinating with rooks, knights, and pawns to ensure victory.

The Knight 

Movement: The knight is unique in its L-shaped movement: two squares in one direction (horizontal or vertical) and then one square perpendicular, or vice versa. It can leap over other pieces, making it uniquely versatile. 

Role in Chess: 

The knight’s unusual movement pattern and ability to bypass obstacles make it a disruptive force on the board - agile and daring. 

The knight is highly valued for creating tactical threats, such as forks, where it simultaneously attacks multiple pieces. 

Knights excel in closed positions, navigating through crowded boards and exploiting opportunities others cannot. 

The knight thrives on creating unexpected moves, catching opponents off-guard and changing the dynamics of the game.  

Morrigan as the Knight 

Morrigan isn’t the most direct force in the narrative, but her interventions are pivotal. She influences the outcome of the “game” not through brute force but through careful planning, cunning, and her unique connection to Mythal. 

Just as knights excel in crowded, complex positions, Morrigan thrives in morally and politically intricate situations.  

Morrigan’s role across the series is marked by surprise and cunning. Whether it’s her sudden involvement in the Orlesian court, or her reappearance in Veilguard as Mythal’s vessel, Morrigan strikes from unexpected angles. 

Her ability to affect events from the shadows mirrors the knight’s tendency to influence the board indirectly. 

Morrigan’s entrance during the climax, arriving as a raven carrying Mythal’s essence, is a perfect example of the knight’s ability to deliver unexpected, game-changing moves.  

The King 

Movement: The king moves one square in any direction - horizontally, vertically, or diagonally - making it the least mobile major piece on the board. 

Role in Chess: 

The king is the most important piece, representing authority, strategy, and survival. The game revolves around its safety. 

Its presence shapes the actions of every other piece on the board, influencing both offensive and defensive strategies. 

Though its movements are limited, the king’s survival is paramount. 

Mythal as the King 

She was one of the ruling elite - Mythal was the stabilizing force that maintained balance within the pantheon, much like the king anchors the chessboard. 

Her actions and decisions shaped the Evanuris’ dynamics, the fall of Elvhenan, and Solas’s rebellion. Even after her death, her legacy dictated the course of events, paralleling the king’s ability to influence the board. 

Even in her absence, Mythal’s memory and influence continued to shape the dynamics of the board, much like how the king’s position shapes the strategy of all other pieces. 

Mythal’s intervention through Morrigan reflects the king’s transformation in the endgame. She takes an active role by addressing Solas, acknowledging their shared responsibility, and releasing him from her service.  

Now to the game: 

Rook moves 

The dependable and improvisational Rook makes their move, stepping in to block Solas's plan. By grabbing the dagger, Rook halts Solas's immediate action, much like a rook defending against a check. 

Rook returns the dagger to Solas. Rook is willing to sacrifice themself for a greater strategy. This sets the stage. it doesn’t deliver the final blow but holds the position, allowing other pieces to make their moves.  

Queen moves

Emerging from the shadows, Lavellan moves decisively into play, changing the board. Her sudden appearance is akin to a queen making a powerful move that forces the opponent to rethink their strategy. 

Lavellan’s words, her appearance, is an emotional strike to Solas. The queen tries cutting through his defense. 

Lavellan’s offer of forgiveness is a bold and risky move, she is positioning herself and the board. She appeals to Solas’s emotions, destabilizing his certainty and forcing him to confront his guilt. 

Knight moves 

Morrigan, carrying Mythal’s essence, enters dramatically, much like the knight leaping into action. She literally flies in (jumps over) the other pieces to introduce a new unpredictable move. 

Morrigan’s revelation that she carries Mythal’s essence shocks Solas, continuing to disrupt his focus.

Morrigan’s role as a vessel bridges the mortal and divine, much like the knight’s ability to navigate both offense and defense. 

King moves 

Mythal’s essence, channeled through Morrigan, becomes a pivotal piece on the board. Her presence forces Solas to confront his deepest regrets and failures. 

Mythal’s words, “I release you from my service,” remove the foundation of Solas’s guilt, representing the king’s passive yet decisive role in resolving the game. 

Mythal’s acknowledgment of their shared actions is akin to a king in the endgame supporting pawns or pieces, ensuring the board is balanced. 

Checkmate

Solas bends under the weight, ultimately choosing to bind himself to the Veil instead of destroying it. This act is his capitulation, the equivalent of being unable to move and conceding the game.  

What Makes This Checkmate? 

Every option is countered.  Solas’s logical (Rook), emotional (Lavellan), and spiritual (Mythal) defenses are attacked simultaneously, there is no move forward.  

No Justification Left:

Rook forces Solas to consider whether his mission is for the greater good or a personal crusade. At the same time, Lavellan forces him to confront the people he has hurt, including herself. By offering forgiveness Lavellan removes one of Solas’s psychological defenses: the idea that he is irredeemable.

Finally, Solas’s primary justification for tearing down the Veil - honoring Mythal and correcting his perceived wrongs - collapses when Mythal accepts responsibility for their shared actions. Mythal’s absolution leaves him nothing to cling to, with Rook and Lavellan having already disarmed his other justifications.

Solas’s decision to bind himself to the Veil signifies his surrender. The checkmate in this scenario isn’t about defeating Solas but stopping him from tearing down the Veil. It’s a victory of reason, emotion, and forgiveness over self-destruction. 

How This Post Came Together 

I don’t play chess - but my brother does. He’s loved chess since he was a kid, and as a fellow gamer, he was more than happy to help when I asked him to combine his love of chess with Dragon Age. It was the perfect mix of his two favorite things. He’s also played Veilguard (his Inquisitor was friends with Solas in Inquisition), so he was already familiar with the story and characters. 

I peppered him with questions: “What does each piece do? What does each piece represent?” "How would you analyze this frame in this scene through chess?" We watched the Veilguard ending multiple times, analyzing each character’s role and how it could align with chess.  

After countless back-and-forths, drafting, revising, and refining, this post finally came together.  

Thank you Teddy! 

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 17

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Warnings: plot heavy, a sprinkle of fluff , smut (?) , dark themes

Note: hi! sorry this one took so long i'm not even going to get into it, what's important is that it's finally here lol I'd say there's maybe 2 more chapters left of this story including the epilogue. i'm not too sure yet, but we are definitely nearing the end which is sort of bitter sweet.. but anyway, as always i hope you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

“Here, this should do.” Hermione states in a hushed tone whilst dragging you behind a pillar to hide.

You stood behind her as she retrieved the cloak of invisibility from her bag, quickly draping it over the both of you.

Hermione pulls you even closer to remain as hidden as possible, so you instinctively wrap your arms around her torso.

You were allowed limited time to devise a plan as Snape summoned all students out of bed, all ordered to assemble in the Great Hall at once.

Harry made the impulsive decision to hide amongst the crowd of students so he may confront the Headmaster. The rest of you are forced to follow his lead, entirely improvising as you go.

Despite yourself, you do hope that Ron has managed to sneak out of the castle in time to fetch the other members of the Order. 

The Dark Lord and his followers are expected to march against Hogwarts any minute now, Harry needs all the help he can get.

-

Hogwarts always felt vaguely warm and comfortable to you, but now it is dense and inhospitable. You hardly recognised it anymore.

It is consistently hard to catch your breath, and you can't seem to ignore the uncomfortable chill running down your spine.

Hermione's presence being your only source of comfort, during a time that you otherwise found utterly debilitating. 

“Well, I don't know about you but this is quite nice. I really wouldn't mind staying like this with you, forever.” You attempt to lighten the mood as you further pressed your front against Hermione's back, earning a light chuckle in response.

“Honestly, I wouldn't mind either.” Hermione leans back slightly allowing you to place a quick kiss on her cheek before standing upright once more.

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the large group of students marching past, in anomalous unison. The sounds of their rhythmic footsteps echo through the halls. Not a single word is uttered amongst them. 

You can feel Hermione tense against your hold, as if she was trying to fight a similar feeling of deep and inescapable unease.

The final group of students enter through the doors, the large wooden panels shut with a large thud. 

Then, it is only silence, you can only hear the sound of your own breathing, the loud thumping of your raised heartbeat in your ears.

“Y/n..” Hermione's voice is a welcomed distraction from the unbearable quiet, it nearly makes you smile. 

“Yes, darling.” You respond, the other woman turns slightly so she may look at you as she speaks.

“I've been thinking..” Hermione starts. “It is no use that we find the other Hocruxes if we don't have the means to destroy it.”

Hermione's words make you pause. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to you until now. You had been so caught up in trying to locate the next object that you had entirely forgotten you no longer had the sword of Gryffindor in your possession.

“There's no chance we can take back the sword.. not now.” You think aloud, searching your mind for a solution. Hermione releases a groan at that, frustration and defeat. “I know.”

Then it occurs to you, a miraculous solution to your issue, or a shot in the dark, you were not yet certain.

“The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets..” You trail off, now capturing Hermione's full attention. “What happened to it after Harry slayed it?” You ask, hoping your girlfriend will give you the answer you were looking for.

“Nothing, it's still there, left to decay in the Chamber.” Hermione replies, and a beat passes where nothing is said between you, but your girlfriend manages to catch up to your train of thought anyway.

“If we find a way to the chamber we can retrieve the Basilisk fang from the skeleton and destroy the Hocrux.” Your girlfriend voices the contents of your mind for you.

“With some luck.” You add.

Then, Hermione grins, a look of relief washes over her. Still underneath the cloak Hermione manages to turn around, she loops her arms around your neck, quickly guiding you in for a searing kiss, one that leaves your lips tingling even moments after she has pulled away. 

“You are brilliant.” Hermione utters, and this time it is your turn to smile.

“That's all you, my love.” You quip. Watching as Hermione makes a face in contentment before turning away from you once again.

Snape's voice can be faintly heard from where the two of you were standing, you tried to listen but Hermione's kiss ignited something within you. A sudden sense of serenity, now you are convinced that everything will turn out as you plan, as if you weren't currently in imminent danger.

As you held Hermione in your arms you allowed yourself to forget the threat of battle, if only for a few moments.

You can't hardly help the way your hand slips underneath her sweater, you feel her goosebumps forming underneath your touch as your palm grazes her bare stomach. 

This only works to urge you on as you carefully part her hair away from her neck, so you may plant gentle kisses against her warm flesh. Hermione's eyes flutter shut at the sensation, and you can hear her breath quickening. 

Although, you aren't allowed to carry on for long as she finally places her hand atop yours, removing it from underneath her top.

“Stop distracting me, I am trying to listen.” Hermione scolds, half-heartedly, her tone makes you smirk, a fire threatens to ignite, but you relent.

You could still only make out bits and pieces of what the Headmaster was saying, and nothing coherent. 

Soon deciding that you needed to get closer to the doors if you hoped to find out what was going on inside. You observed the lack of teachers roaming the halls, it appears you and Hermione were alone.

“Let's move closer.” You suggest, pulling the cloak off both of you so you may move freely.

“Alright.” Hermione agrees, clutching your hand as you advance forward together. 

Through the crack in the door, you are able to spot Snape, on the podium, addressing the students, the Carrows standing by either side of him.

“Punished in a matter consistent with the severity of their transgression.”

“Any person to have knowledge.. who fails to come forward, will be treated as equally guilty.”

You listened as the Headmaster continued hurling his veiled threats towards the group of blameless students. It makes your blood run cold and it appears Hermione felt as equally unsettled by Snape's words.

“Now then, If anyone here has any knowledge of Mr Potter's movements this evening. I invite them to step forward.. now.” Snape's words are met with complete silence, and your belly tightens with nauseating suspense.

The sound of sudden footsteps that echo from behind the two of you breaks the tantalizing quiet. It makes you whirl around in a panic, only for you to spot Ron next to his brother, Shacklebolt behind him and then the rest of the Order.

“What's going on?” Ron asks, looking between you and Hermione, and you merely hold your hand up to silence him as Hermione continues peeking through the crack.

The next thing that can be heard is a mass of gasps coming from the other side of the doors, students muttering amongst themselves. Before you can question it, the sound of Harry's voice validates your anxiety. 

You freeze, whereas Hermione merely steps forward, bracing her hand against the door, as if prepared to push it open, ready to come to Harry's defense.

“It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you seem to have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster.” Harry's voice can be heard clearly as Hermione pushes the wooden doors open, you along with the rest of the Order follow her lead, now wands in hand, entering the hall as a group.

All eyes are now on you, more gasps in disbelief as you all stood behind Harry.

You then make the mistake of letting your eyes wander, it doesn't take long before you catch Pansy's gaze. Her stare, hardened and unforgiving enough to make you look away in an instant. You decide to focus your attention ahead.

Harry's harsh voice makes the walls in the hall vibrate.

“How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night, tell them how you look him in the eye, a man who trusted you and killed him.”

Harry continues to taunt the Headmaster, all he is granted with is silence, for a long moment, until Snape retrieves his wand.

He points it at Harry but before The Chosen One is allowed a chance to properly react, he is shoved out of the way, Professor McGonagall shielding him with her person.

It all happens quickly, the Professor flings spell after spell at the Headmaster, and everyone can merely observe with bated breaths as Snape deflected every blow.

The Headmaster lifts his wand to shield himself but this time the curse rebounds. As a result, the Carrows fall, unconscious.

Professor McGonagall steps closer but before she can attack once again, Snape is no longer upright as he quickly transfigures into a black mass, apparating out of the window behind him. The broken glass falls with a large crash.

A stunned silence before an eruption of cheers from the bystanders. Celebrating the Professor's triumph. 

Hermione glances at you with a similar look of relief, but the both of you recognize that it is fleeting.

Just as you expected, the moment of joy is over as quickly as it began. The mark on your arm, what was a dull ache turns into a searing pain, so sudden and paralyzing that it knocks you to the ground, still clutching your arm.

Hermione rushes to your side, but before she can attempt to question what was wrong Harry can also be seen collapsing onto the floor in front of you.

You catch a glimpse of Hermione's panicked expression, she turns to her best friend and then to you. Your girlfriend attempts to speak to you but you cannot hear her.

The pain in your arm has now spread, you shut your eyes tightly as you endured it. The hall grows dark once again, stagnant and cold. A spine chilling voice of the Dark Lord echoes through the air, easily distinguishable and unsettling. 

Soon there is a mass of screams coming from each corner of the room, students plugging their ears in terror.

Lord Voldermort aims to convey a message; a threat.

Hermione is holding you tightly against her own body, the pain in your arm is finally reduced to a dull ache once again.

“I know that many of you will want to fight, some of you may even think that to fight is wise, but this is folly.”

“Give me Harry Potter, do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.”

“You have one hour.”

The Dark Lord's attempt to entice has merely immobilized everyone for a prolonged moment.

You finally get back on your feet, Hermione does not let go of you still. “Are you alright?” She manages to find the words and you only nod in response.

As you glanced around the room, you realized that once again, all eyes are on Harry. This time the stares are hostile, some uncertain, others, plain terror.

Pansy's voice is first to break the tense stillness. “What are you waiting for? Someone grab him.” She points to The Chosen One.

Ginny is first to step in front of Harry, followed by Ron, Hermione, yourself and the rest of the Order follow suit.

As Pansy catches your stare again she scoffs, this time your hardened expression mirrors her own.

“Mr Filch, if you would, I would like you to please escort Ms Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin house from the hall.” Professor McGonagall orders the caretaker of the castle. 

The man emerges from the crowd, his tired long haired cat in his arms. “Where exactly will I be leading them to, Maam?” He asks.

“The dungeons would do.” The Professor quickly states. This makes Hermione reach down to hold your hand once again, you respond by intertwining your fingers.

There was more sudden applause from the students as they celebrated Mr Filch leading the other Slytherins out of the hall.

As expected, you notice Pansy walking towards you, and you make the hasty decision to turn away so you could hopefully avoid her. However, you don't get the chance to try as she gets close enough to grab your collar harshly, then you react on instinct, getting a tight hold on her wrist.

“Fucking traitor.” She hisses, the sudden nature of the interaction makes you wince.

You open your mouth to speak but Hermione quickly steps in. “Let go of her, or I swear you will be leaving this hall with no hands.” There is enough vitriol in her voice to make anyone cower, but Pansy was not yet done, in fact she barely acknowledges your girlfriend at all. 

“If I had known you were with your muggle pet this entire time..” Pansy trails off, she shakes her head slightly, repulsed.

“You're an embarrassment. I can hardly believe I ever considered you a friend.” Pansy retorts.

The same Pansy you have known since first year. You can't help the pang in your chest, her words manage to graze you.

She grants you a scowl before storming off, Blaise follows immediately after her, having listened to the entire interaction. He bumps his own shoulder against yours before slipping past, purposefully setting you off balance. 

You held your tongue, reminding yourself to remain calm.

When you turn to Hermione once more the look plastered on her face makes you ache. She recognizes your hurt, and she can't help but feel it too. “Y/n–” She starts but you quickly interject with a change of topic.

“I have half a mind to carve this thing out of me.” You quip, only partly joking. The dark mark now stifled by your sleeve.

Your joke doesn't translate, in fact it only urges Hermione to worry about you more. “You will do no such thing.” She warns with furrowed brows as she reaches up to fix the collar of your shirt, badly creased from Pansy's fury.

Hermione's own wrath yet to dissipate, you feel it in the way her hand trembles. 

You smile faintly at her in gratitude, in an endless sea of chaos, she is your helm.

As the rest of the students begin clearing the hall, Harry rushes past as well, urging Ron, y/n and Hermione to follow. “Come on.” He exclaims without looking back.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Terror pollutes the air surrounding Hogwarts, contagious and unrelenting. It infects everyone, guiding and inspiring frantic behaviour. 

As all the Professors remain in the outer courtyard, securing the castle, students are left indoors to their own devices. Everyone is pushing, shoving. Coming and going. No one knows what to do, the only thing that's certain is that fear hangs over them a dark cloud enveloping all. 

“Harry, wait!” Hermione exclaims, trying to get her friend's attention but dark haired man barrels forward, Ron by his side.

Your finally manage to catch up to him, Hermione tugs on Harry's arm, forcefully urging him to look at her. 

“I've had an idea– well really it's Y/n's idea it's completely brilliant.” Hermione gestures towards you as she raises her voice slightly so she may be heard over the commotion.

Harry stares at you, inquisitive yet impatient so you decide speak quickly. “It doesn't matter if we find the Hocrux unless we can destroy it.” You say.

“You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with the Basilisk fang, right?” You question rhetorically but Harry nods regardless.

“Well, Hermione and I think we know where we might find one.” You add vaguely, a precaution against prying ears.

“Okay, fine– but take this” Harry seems only half present in the conversation now, he is not even looking at you as he retrieves the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

You grab the bit of parchment, admittedly perplexed by his response. “That way you can find me when you get back.” Harry explains and you nod.

The Chosen One turns to continue up the stairs without looking back, Ron blindly trails after him, it seems asking Harry questions now will only slow them down.

“Where are you two going?” Hermione on the other hand cannot contain her curiosity.

“Ravenclaw Common Room. We've got to start somewhere.” He explains, practically shouting above the clamour.

As Ron and Harry dissapear into the crowd 

Hermione quickly intertwines your hand with her own, dragging you up the stairs in the opposite direction. “Come on, this way.”

–

The girl's lavatory remained vacant as you both made your way down the long winding slope, a pile of something soft breaks your harsh landing, in the darkness you are not able to make out what it might be.

The chamber was dark, every surface caked with dust, you can feel it in your lungs everytime you took a breath. No doubt the chambers has been left entirely untouched since the event all those years ago. 

Every step you took echoed towards the void, the faint noise of critters scampering on the walls was enough to unsettle you.

“Lumos.” Hermione says with her wand in hand, illuminating your path. It was only then you had the sense to do the same with your own.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You finally get to the entrance but only to realize it is locked, intricate stone carvings of serpents mounted proudly on the door; a warning. 

You inspect it carefully, but there is no visible keyhole any clues of how to unlock it.

Hermione bravely places her hands upon it, a feeble attempt to pry the heavy door open, but it is no use.

She sighs, exasperated.

“Any ideas?” Hermione looks to you, desperate.

You remained silent as you deliberated, your first instinct was to enter with force, throw a curse large enough to hopefully break apart the stone door atleast enough for the both of you to fit through.

That plan does not come without it's risks, you set it aside for now.

You begin considering other solutions, and naturally your mind involuntarily turns to the events surrounding the chamber of secrets all those years ago, your second year at Hogwarts. 

The perpetual anxiety that plagued you, and every other student in the castle. Everyday, the Basilisk claimed a new victim and for several weeks, you were only allowed to wonder who it might choose next.

You distinctly recall the way Draco reacted to it all, how he insisted on learning parseltongue so he could gain control of the beast. Feeding into the widespread fear that Harry was the true heir of Slytherin. That he would target him next if he did not learn how to defend himself.

Countless nights where your best friend would stay up memorizing phrases in parseltongue, certain that he would then gain the ability to control the beast if it ever came after him.

Whether he was driven by jealousy or plain and simple fear is unclear, but Draco's relentless efforts, as a result, forcefully imprinted the unfamiliar dialect into your vocabulary. 

Although, time certainly did it's duty, and now you are only able to recall certain words. 

You wonder if it will perhaps still be enough to possibly unlock the door to the chamber.

“I have an idea, but it might not work.” You reply, although entirely lacking confidence.

Hermione doesn't share your doubts, she nods assuredly eventhough she has no notion of what you intend to do. “Go on then.”

You speak the words ‘door’, ‘snake’, and ‘open’ in parseltongue. With your limited knowledge, you cannot hope to form a complete sentence, but luckily enough, the chamber unlocks. The heavy door opens, wide and eerily inviting.

Hermione stares at you wide-eyed in bewilderment. “How–” She tries but you only start forward towards the door.

“Long story– if we survive this I'll tell you all about it.” You quip as you made way for Hermione to step inside before you.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As it seems your streak of luck has yet to wear off as you succeed in extracting the Basilisk fang. It was just as Hermione said, all flesh has rotted away, now what was left of the beast was only it's skeleton, set to fossilise with time.

The both of you stood unmoving, hovering over the Hufflepuff cup, readying yourselves for the next step. “You do it.” You extend your arm so Hermione may grab the fang but she quickly shakes her head in protest. 

“No, I can't.” She admits but your gaze doesn't falter, courteous and true, you grab her hand.

“Yes, you can.” You state, lightly forcing the fang into her grasp, and she remains hesitant but accepts it anyway.

“I'll be right here if anything happens.” You reassure with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Hermione moves to crouch next to the cup and you do the same, holding it in place.

Your girlfriend glances at you a last time for reassurance and you can only nod. As Hermione lifts her arm with the Basilisk fang in hand, you hold your breath.

In an instant she brings her arm straight down, the tip of the sharp tooth proved sturdy enough to pierce through the ancient relic. The Hufflepuff Cup begins spinning uncontrollably, as if trying to escape the cause of its injury.

Then, the room awakens, the body of water once still on either sides of the pathway you stood suddenly rises in anger. 

The water continues to twist and shape itself into a horrifying sight, the same vision of Voldermort that tormented you when you destroyed the locket.

You grab Hermione's hand, pulling her away from danger, but the being follows you until there was nowhere else to run, you fish out your wand from your pocket but before you can attempt anything, water crashes down onto the both of you. 

You are soaked and breathless, but the room was asleep once more. It is over.

Another Horcrux is destroyed, and air sharply fills your lungs. “You did it.” You state with true relief and Hermione doesn't respond, not with words. 

In one large stride she is directly infront if you, her lips against yours. The kiss shocks your entire system. Open-mouthed, and aguished. Her hand is firmly against the nape of your neck, Hermione melts within your embrace and you react all the same. Before you can protest or question further, your girlfriend pulls away. 

You stare at her, dazed and almost in a trance, consumed in everything and all Hermione. You nearly fail to notice the fact that she was removing her shoes, and then her jacket.

“What are you doing?” You remain staring at her, now with a hint of amusement, but mainly awe.

“We might die today.” Hermione states plainly, the nature of her words do not match her tone.

You observed as she removed her top, now leaving her in only her jeans and bra. She approaches you again, her hands slipping underneath your shirt, warm touch against damp skin makes you shiver in anticipation.

Then you feel her soft lips against the shell of your ear, and soon your jaw. “When I take my last breath I want to remember what it feels like to be with you.. all of you.” Hermione utters, her hands already moving to undo your belt.

[xmissrogersx]

Mine | Din Djarin

tags: a lot of fluff, and when i say a lot is A LOT. Grogu being adorable as always.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila masterlist

-Being a fugitive princess had not started easy. "How can you say that, you have your freedom, isn't that what you wanted?". Of course, no one said you had to face every danger out there, right? With the risk of crossing who knows what a lunatic who could...

-Cyar'ika...

-What? He loves that I tell him that story, doesn't it, baby? —I asked looking at his big eyes, to which Grogu laughed stretching his little hands towards me.-Your father is only jealous of not being able to tell stories like I do.

Din laughed under his breath to refocus on the next jump, while trying to be cautious not to show where they were going.

He thanked the creator every damn morning when he saw her face when she woke up next to him. The way his body molded to his, as if he had always lacked a part of himself.

That part was Priya.

-Where are we going? —I saw how the Crest navigation course changed.

-It's a surprise —he replied while keeping the autopilot.

-Surprise? What kind of surprise? Because you know well that the word "surprise" envelops... —he walks towards me to get up and put me on his right shoulder. -Din, take me down now!

-It's time to rest, cyar'ika.

-Oh, please, just give me a hint, and as a reward maybe I'll use the handcuffs you have saved —I exclaimed soncarrona.

-Don't abuse, mesh'la —he said, placing me on our improvised bed.

I turn off the lights in the bedroom, proceeding to remove part of the armor.

-For Odin, you're killing me —I heard his laugh because of my comment.-You're depriving me of the show, Din Djarin, and that's unforgivable.

He lay down next to me, wrapping us both in the blanket he had bought at Naboo.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

From meeting the Mandalorian 1 year ago, I knew that the mystery was already part of it, but I must admit that this time it had exceeded my expectations.

-Now are you going to tell me where we are? —I asked, feeling the Crest ramp because of the blindfold that covered my eyes, while Din held my hand.

-Patience is not a virtue of yours, mesh'la.

We walked a few meters, until I felt it stop.Suddenly, the clarity flooded my eyes and I blinked repeatedly without believing what I saw before my eyes.

A large library stood before me. Volumes and books of different sizes and colors. I smiled with tears in my eyes.

A slight whistle paralyzed me, following an object placed on the ground.

-Din...

-Happy Birthday, cyar'ika —I heard his answer, with his voice without the modulator.-Please, turn around.

-You don't have to do it, you know I would never force you.

-I can't stand it anymore, I want to take your face in my hands and be able to see you without having the helmet in between. Please, Priya.

I turned slowly with my eyes closed, and approached him. I raised my hands towards his face, and felt how he kissed my palms, as I had already done countless times.

Take the courage I needed to see the man under the beskar.

Brown orbs, in combination with their beautiful brown hair with their waves.

He looked at me with doubt and fear, as if my response to his face was decisive.

I smiled again, letting the tears run down my cheeks. Joined our breaths, making him see that he never wanted to leave. But this time it felt different from the previous ones. No blanket covered my eyes and I could admire the beauty of his features.

-So, what do you think? —he asked as we parted.

For Odin, Din Djarin, you are beautiful —I replied nodding, while distributing small kisses on his face.-I love you, in this and in all universes, no matter how you look under that bucket.

-You and the child became the only thing that matters in my life. You are my family, and if I had to cross the galaxy for you I would never doubt it -we both turned around when we saw Grogu trying to reach the shelf.

I turned to see him again, and I could notice how his orbs acquired a glow that sent an electric wave down my back.

-Now that you've seen my face, what would happen next —he exclaimed as he knelt in front of me.-It's what I've been longing for since the day you got on the ship, Priya.

Small tears threatened to fall from my eyes, and without waiting for him to ask me, I threw myself into his arms, knocking us both to the floor, flooding the place with our laughter.

-Would you be my riduur, mesh'la?

-In this, and in all universes, I accept Din Djarin.

[esthelle-wanders]

The Chain: Dancing Headcanons

Because this poll sparked a train of thought, and it’s such a fun concept to explore!

Fairly detailed, so more beneath the cut:

Sky was actually the hardest— but I think he’s the kind of dancer who’s good, but you don’t really notice because he’s not trying to make it beautiful. His swordsmanship is graceful, powerful, and focused, and enough carries over from that to make footwork easy for him. When he’s dancing in a group, though, it doesn’t even occur to him to apply that degree of care and attention, because he’s relaxed and just having fun. He’s game to try anything and learns steps very quickly, but his stamina has limits. Takes frequent breaks and is definitely on the sidelines for the final stretch, applauding and/or nodding off. Likely to get a little goofy when he’s with a group of friends, if somebody pulls off a silly stunt he’ll try it too. Never steps on anybody’s feet.

Time doesn’t really dance in public. We all know he can— those moves in Majora’s Mask were smooth as butter— but most of what he knows is relatively “strange,” things he learned from the Kokiri or his Goron friends or Skull Kid etc., and while he’s not shy or secretive about it, it’s not the kind of thing he wants to exhibit to a room full of strangers. He’s learned from Malon too, so he’ll dance at home or at their own festivals and gatherings, but drag him onto a random floor and he’ll play up being awkward and uncoordinated until you leave him alone.

Wind is an excellent dancer! Kinda like Sky, though, he doesn’t see it as an art form. He has an outstanding sense of rhythm and general musicality; on top of that, he picks things up almost instantly, and can improvise at the drop of a hat. Can and will dance with anyone, anywhere. However, I think he prefers the styles he’s used to from Outset and Tetra’s ship— lots of stamping, clapping, flinging one another about, and singing until it becomes a test of endurance and you collapse. The kid’s all about exuberance, pulse, and the communal aspect— he’s the one pulling people onto the floor, he likes to set the pace, and he’s usually the last one standing— but as long as the music’s good, the aesthetic of the thing is kinda irrelevant to him. (Music does matter to him, though. Screw up the rhythm and he will canonically call you out in front of everybody, RIP Legend).

Twilight doesn’t strike me as a dancer. He knows his own from Ordon, and probably a few “elite” numbers from Castle Town, but he’s only really there for the camaraderie. Gets mixed up a bit and steps on a few feet, but he’s so good-natured about it that nobody minds. Solid stamina, but he’ll drop out relatively early so he can watch and talk to people. A dedicated hype man. I think he’s also the type to get a bit wistful, lonely, and withdrawn as the night goes on, so it’s a good idea to look out for him as much as he’s looking out for everyone else.

Four’s largely an enigma, because he’s the friend at the party who sits at the table and “people watches” all night. If he’s feeling especially sentimental you could probably drag him out on the floor for one or two dances, and he’s pretty decent, but it’s just not his thing. Not that he isn’t participating— he’s collecting memories like everyone else, but he likes to observe, and trade quips with whoever’s dropped out at the moment, and think his own thoughts. You can tell he’s really paying attention, because if anybody reminisces about it later and goes “does anyone remember when —?” Four is the one who recalls exactly what happened. The decisive authority on any disputed chain of events. Rather heartwarming, and shows he really cares (but also he has so much blackmail material).

Hyrule is like the polar opposite of Sky— his footwork’s shabby and he lacks poise, but his movements are so natural and agile that he’s delightful to watch in his own careless, homegrown way. Context and setting really matter with him: he‘s self-conscious in a high-class establishment, but put him somewhere he’s comfortable and he’s the one pulling goofy stunts and teasing people. In the latter environment, he’s the type who gets swept up in the experience and starts laughing. Frequently botches the rhythm, and it takes a while for him to warm up to the locale and the crowd, but once he gets going his endurance is high and he’s there until the music stops or everyone goes home (he may or may not be an extrovert, but the boy LOVES people).

Warriors is a mixed bag— he has beautiful posture, careful footwork, and he’s exceedingly graceful, but like Hyrule, how comfortable he is depends on the setting. Unlike Hyrule, though, he’s far more confident in a formal environment, because he knows what to expect and it’s easier to keep track of people. Dance is more of a social rite for him— not one he dislikes, but not the best conductor for vulnerability or expression. This seems ironic, since he’s also very familiar with the highly informal contexts he encountered during the war— impromptu dances in the barracks or around the campfires between campaigns, along with whatever he’s picked up from moving from place to place and interacting with citizens. To him, though, this is just another facet of dance as a social tool— a way to get to know other people on their own terms and in their own way. This doesn’t mean he’s cold or detached about it; on the contrary, he genuinely values it as a way to bond with people he cares about. It does mean that he’s not very demonstrative or inventive as a dancer, and unless there’s a social reason not to, he’ll also drop out fairly early to talk to people and keep tabs on everyone. He and Twilight are sideline buddies.

Wild’s a better-then-average dancer, but he gets moody, so it really depends on the day. When he’s feeling it, he’s smooth, playful, and creative. Like Time, he knows a “strange” smorgasbord of dances (possibly more than Time knows, though arguably less odd overall), but he doesn’t mind performing them wherever he is, and he isn’t afraid to play around with strange combinations during any given set. Since bits of his knight training have stuck, I figure he’s the type who can be comfortable virtually anywhere— not because he learns the dances quickly, but because he’s probably done something similar before, even if he can’t remember. On more melancholy days, he’s circling the periphery, chatting with Twi or sitting quietly with Four. The self-designated photographer, also has lots of blackmail. The mood and atmosphere have a big impact on him— tense situations really stress him out, but if everyone’s happy, he probably is, too.

Legend is, to nobody’s surprise, the best dancer of the group. Hands down, no contest, everybody else go home. Not only does his travel experience give him the broadest collection of styles, genres, and traditions to draw from, but he possesses the complete Triforce that nobody else quite has together: poise, care, and expression. Outstanding form and balance, and confident enough to make it his own, but he’s also invested in doing it “the right way,” and rarely mixes styles. Has mastered both focus and ease— everything is deliberate, but it looks almost nonchalant. Honestly enchanting to watch. He won’t dance every number, and he spends at least half the night heckling from the sidelines, but once he’s on the floor he’s serious. So good that you won’t even notice if he gets a liiitttle bit off-beat. (Wind will, though. Wind will notice. And Legend will take offense every time. One of those things in life to be relied upon).

[lapileaf]

Buddy’s MBTI and Enneagram Analysis (I forgot about this 😭 I made it after the final and i forgot about it) special thanks to IzNome for looking this over back in December!

I’ve been working on this analysis for a while, but I wanted to wait until after the final to post it. I’m still using the name Buddy for now, though I really do love “Nox” too! Here’s a breakdown of his personality type:

Buddy:

ESTJ - “The Executive”

Extroverted, Sensing, Thinking, Judging

At first glance, Buddy might seem like an introvert, but hear me out—I’ll explain why I think he fits better as an ESTJ.

ESTJs belong to the “Sentinel” group and thrive on order and structure. They prefer making decisions based on what they know, and they’re usually the ones who take charge in a group setting.

I’m going to break down each part of Buddy’s personality based on how I see him throughout CB. (This might develop further or change based on season 2 but this is what I have so far)

Extroverted (E)

Buddy is an omnivert—someone who can swing between extroversion and introversion depending on the situation. This is a concept that doesn’t fit into the traditional categories of MBTI types, but it’s a helpful way to describe people like Buddy who don’t strictly fall into either the “extroverted” or “introverted” box. Omniverts have the flexibility to adapt based on their environment, feeling comfortable being alone when needed, but also able to interact socially when they’re in the right mood or with the right people. ISTJ are very similar to ESTJs but it’s not as common as an ISTJ to be an omnivert.

So, while Buddy may seem like he’s introverted at times (quiet, reserved, closed off), he also has moments where he’s incredibly assertive and outspoken—especially when interacting with characters like Chase or when pursuing his roles in the story’s. There are instances in CB where Buddy engages with characters he doesn’t like, simply because he has too or he wants to. Even when he’s frustrated, he still makes sure to have his voice heard. His need for social interaction often outweighs his desire for solitude.

At times, Buddy can shut down or become withdrawn if he’s unsure how to act in a situation. This kind of response can be a characteristic of introversion—when he feels uncomfortable or doesn’t know what to do, he becomes awkward and quiet. But in moments where he feels confident, or when he’s trying to dominate the situation (like in his exchanges with Chase), Buddy is extremely vocal and assertive. His actions show that, while he can be introverted in some situations, he’s more of an omnivert in practice. He seeks out social interactions but also requires downtime to recharge.

Sensing (S)

Buddy values structure and clarity. From the start of CB, it’s clear that Buddy prefers things to go the way they’re supposed to in the stories. He gets frustrated when things don’t unfold as planned, as he’s focused on completing tasks the “right way.” He’s not the type to stray from the original plan or improvise, and he’s uncomfortable with deviations. For Buddy, consistency and stability are important, and he values the big picture over the small details when problem-solving.

Thinking (T)

Buddy approaches problems logically. When things go wrong, he tends to rationalize the situation, trying to come to terms with it through his logical framework. He tends to downplay emotional reactions in favor of practicality. There are times when Buddy’s emotions do get the best of him (especially with Chase), but generally, he prefers to think through his options before making decisions.

For instance, Buddy didn’t understand why Chase would care about storybook characters (like in Cinderella) because, in Buddy’s mind, they’re just fictional. He also struggles with the idea that Chase would be kind to him without expecting anything in return. This kind of unreciprocated kindness doesn’t align with Buddy’s transactional view of relationships.

Judging (J)

Buddy is all about structure. He’s bothered by any deviations in the story’s chaos, which is evident in how he interacts with Chase throughout CB. The way Buddy insists on doing things the “correct” way and sticking to the plan shows that he’s a “Judging” type. His need for structure and predictability clashes with Chase’s more spontaneous, “Perceiver” mindset, and it often leads to conflict between the two.

Enneagram: 8w7 - “The Nonconformist”

As an 8w7, Buddy is independent, confident (or at least tries to appear to be 😭), and assertive. He seeks to maintain control in all areas of his life, avoiding vulnerability at all costs. This is clear in how Buddy behaves—he doesn’t want to feel weak or exposed, and he tends to assert his dominance to protect himself from that vulnerability.

Buddy’s confidence and smugness can come off as intense at times, but it’s all part of his desire to remain in control and avoid situations that make him feel powerless.

[buttercrap]

Kolhrabi Cookie Analysis

The new update of Cookie run Toa presented us the first antagonist of the game, the mysterious mage Kohlrabi Cookie but what kind of character he is, what are his goals, his motives?

It's clear that Kohlrabi Cookie is not the kind of villain who searches for open conflict but a antagonist who prefers to hide in shadow until the opportunity strikes. We can see this on Chapter 9 finale when he decides to follow Gingerbrave gang to the next floor, seeing this as an excellent opportunity to reach is goal

He also improvise and adapts depending the situation like when he was discovered by Lemon Zest and GingerBrave and took advantage of this situation to get to know GingerBrave and target him by make him reflect about the worst possible outcomes of his quest to boost his insecurities.( He may have underestimated his happy-go-lucky personality)

I mentioned his goal before but what exactly has drive Kohlrabi to almost destroy the entire floor

Thanks to the event we know the reason behind Kohlrabi and (possibly) the Boss actions is their aim to destroy the Guardian Cookies. But why does Kohlrabi want this? Sure we could say Kohlrabi likes enjoys having power but the way he let us know this looks like he has been through a lot

We can also notice that Kohlrabi after making some stalactites fall, he fast regrets that decision so he has morals and doesn't wish to hurt other cookies outside his goal

So I think the reason Kohlrabi wants to destroy the Guardians is personal.We know nothing about his past only that it wasn't exactly happy

However we can see on the event that Kohlrabi has a photo on his pendant about someone he cared about, possibly the only one who has been nice to him.

And the reason the “someone” isn't around could be the Guardian Cookies passive behavior. Another option is that maybe he was similar to GingerBrave, like the prodigy magician who was thrown away from his position for unknown reason .

Personally I like the idea of the Guardian Cookies not being completely saints. In the Cookie run saga we can clearly see good and evil between the two sides ( Dark Enchantress, Logan Dragon, The Beasts) so I think it would be neat that in this game there were more shades of gray rather than black and white.

[tossawary]

Everything surrounding Orihime's kidnapping in the Hueco Mundo arc of "Bleach" feels... weird and underwhelming to me. Like, I'm not fully certain what happened there. Did Ulquiorra hold those two random soul reaper escorts hostage until Orihime returned from saying her invisible goodbye, or was he just threatening her friends generally...?

The invisible goodbye thing has some interesting elements, but... I don't want to call Orihime a pushover for being threatened by genuinely scary people when she's feeling especially isolated, but it does seem to immediately and directly prove Urahara and others right when they said that Orihime is probably unsuited for the battlefield. Even medical / support people have to triage and improvise under fire and work within a greater structure! She (fairly!) does not like weighing lives!

(Though I do think that Urahara and others were very wrong to just tell Orihime to go away. She has no family! All she has left are her friends! And she's too self-sacrificing to ever willingly leave for her own sake! It would have been far better to keep her close and let her train for a medical / support position, so that she wouldn't get kidnapped like this (and would have had the confidence to work out some way to get around Aizen's weird mind games), when Ichigo is fucking notorious now for going apeshit if anything happens to even distant friends.)

When Ulquiorra first appeared in that space between worlds for an ambush, I was like, "OH SHIT, THAT'S COOL." This place is famously dangerous and if she and her escort disappear without a trace here, no one will know what happened. Perhaps Ulquiorra can destabilize whatever safety technology exists here and make it look like some mechanical failure. It's clever! (It also made me imagine Ulquiorra as some kind of deep sea leviathan, cleverly feeding on the plus souls and hollows passing over this trench, where the soul reapers don't think to look. Ulquiorra potentially first meeting Aizen by attempting to ambush him and swallow him whole in this inbetween place would be a great first encounter.)

And then Ulquiorra lets Orihime go to say a weird invisible goodbye? As part of Aizen's mind games to make the Gotei 13 think she left on her own and her feel like this kidnapping was partially her own choice? Unless Ulquiorra was holding those soul reapers hostage at this point in time, I'm really not sure why Orihime went along with this instead of trying to get help (besides her obvious feelings of isolation / depression + plot requires she be the damsel in distress to kick-start the Hueco Mundo arc). (There's REASONING, I'm just not fully persuaded by it.) It feels a little overcomplicated for me on Aizen's end, especially when I haven't yet seen it be paired with any other charisma or compelling persuasion from Aizen, this supposed master manipulator, when Orihime has plenty of buttons to press besides fear.

"Soul Society is broken and doesn't care for the poor people on the outside." "The Gotei 13 are corrupt and will ungratefully turn on people like Ichigo and Rukia as soon as they're no longer useful." "Hollows are people too, aren't they? And the soul reapers don't bother trying to help the people who need them most." "The Soul King is a threat to us all and I'm the only one who can stop him." There are so many lies and half-truths that Aizen could tell! This could be a point in time to showcase how he got so many people to follow him besides spiritual strength, and him being apparently nice to a vulnerable Orihime would be genuinely eerie given what we saw / know happened to Momo.

And this "making the Gotei 13 think that Orihime left of her own choice" story decision could work if Aizen had done more to frame her! But the fact that the Captain Commander immediately makes this assumption with so little evidence makes him look incompetent, when there are so many people who could immediately vouch for her and for the fact that it's way more likely she's been forced into something bad. Of course, maybe the story's point is to make the Captain Commander look bad at reading situations! Rather than simply ruthless for dismissing Orihime as lost and irrelevant. That gets a slight pass, I guess, but it's really such a wild and insulting and unnecessary assumption.

I think what I would have preferred to happen is OPTION 1) Aizen or underling kidnaps Tatsuki first and uses Tatsuki to get to Orihime.

This would bring Tatsuki fully into this arc instead of sidelining her again. It would be a nice culmination to the secrecy straining her friendships with both Ichigo and Orihime, and a nice bop to Ichigo's nose for trying to protect everyone on his own and his utter failure communicating danger to his friends and family. We could have a lot of fun stuff with Orihime and Tatsuki trying to survive together in this place. It would give Orihime some fucking motivation that isn't just "trying to help Ichigo". It would allow Orihime to find her strength by protecting the friend she has always viewed as being tougher and more confident. I need more women in this show who aren't made of relentless boob jokes.

OPTION 2) I would have preferred it if Aizen had found some way to locate Orihime's brother, Sora, and kidnapped him from Soul Society to use against her.

Aizen is supposedly a genius. It would track with the rest of the story if he could invent this technology. It would make the Gotei 13 look really bad if they have a way of helping families reconnect in the afterlife and just don't bother; and it would look really bad for them if Soul Society had utterly failed to be a safe place for Orihime's loved one. If Aizen is interested in Orihime's powers, he would probably be interested in seeing if her brother has any similar potential.

Option 2a is that Sora could be a regular plus soul and remembers Orihime. Aizen could have been experimenting on him and could be threatening to continue experimenting on Sora. Maybe being a regular plus soul in Hueco Mundo without the protection of a soul reaper's cultivation energy is dangerous. The air is toxic to him. He'll undergo hollowficafion again without special medicine from Aizen / Aizen's experiments keeping him as a normal plus soul, and he's terrified of becoming that monster again. Aizen coaxes Orihime to help him by claiming he's trying to find a way to cure hollowfication forever, so that Sora will be safe.

Option 2b is that Sora has no memories of Orihime or they've been suppressed, and Aizen has turned Sora into an Arrancar. Aizen claims that Sora was left vulnerable and starving on the outskirts of the Soul Society, abandoned to become a hollow again, or attacked by a hollow and transformed. Aizen has now used the Hogyoku to take Sora back to a mostly human state and given him Arrancar powers to "protect himself". Sora is grateful to Aizen for having saved him and as loyal as Ulquiorra. Aizen asks Orihime if she's prepared to fight her own brother. Doesn't she want to help him help Sora?

Honestly, I dig Ulquiorra so far and I'd like to keep him (he and Sora could have a weird not-twins thing going on), but you could totally replace his role in the story with Arrancar Sora and then put Orihime through the ringer torn between Ichigo and Sora. It feels so, SO weird to me that Orihime's dead brother never comes up again in this show about dead people and the story barely treats it as relevant.

OPTION 3) is that you bring both Tatsuki and Sora into it! Why not? Have amnesiac Arrancar Sora kidnap Tatsuki while Ulquiorra ambushes Orihime! Have Aizen threatening to turn both Tatsuki and plus soul Sora into hollows if Orihime doesn't cooperate!

I am feeling desperate for Orihime to have anything in her life again that is not her love for Ichigo. They don't have chemistry! The story is not taking the time to develop chemistry and bonding and partnership between them! Ichigo barely seems to remember she exists half the time.

Side note: I can barely fucking believe that Ichigo went off to train with the Visored without telling his family that he was leaving or where he would be. That's not a great sign for good mental health or healthy relationships! Which is probably (hopefully) the point! He could be dead in any alleyway for all his baby sisters know. That's not good big brother behavior! Ichigo has a real problem with not trusting anyone else to protect everyone (not without reason!), including not trusting his loved ones to protect themselves, and I'm not certain yet whether or not the story actually thinks this is a real problem and intends to have Ichigo fix his communication bullshit.

There is so much good, bloody material here if the story was genuinely willing to dig into the mess and make it hurt good. Instead, I'm watching Nel and her little hollow buddies do their fairly repetitive hijinks and Ichigo fight random nobodies who will not be meaningful to the story later. When Rukia finally ran into Aaroneiro pretending to be Kaien, I was like, "Oh, thank fuck, something with SOME emotional weight and compelling psychological turmoil again."

[tokiro07]

Toki Reads Shonen Jump 2025, Issue #13: New Fave Week

One Piece: Gaban is satisfied with Luffy and Zoro's performance in his test of their characters and gives them Loki's key; Shamrock and Gunko summon two more Holy Knights, Sommers and Killingham, who plan to kidnap the children of Elbapth. I love kirin, and Killingham uses a spear with a funny design, so I'm already endeared to him, but the Celestial Dragon bubble and gas mask give me a very bad feeling that he won't be the Kaku-esque goofball I want him to be

Roboco: Bondo and co. take a trip to the bathhouse, where they find Roboco working to pay off her mountains of debt left over from her failed art career; they learn the procedures and pleasures of the sauna, right up until Roboco gets overzealous and accidentally destroys the entire building. Miyazaki is a lot like Shinohara, where he'll just randomly decide to use a chapter to explain one of his niche interests; much like Witch Watch's denim chapter, this did nothing to attract me to said interest, but I'm glad they're having fun

Sakamoto: Shin tells Sakamoto that there are actually multiple bombs, so there's no time to disarm them all before Ando dies; Ikari flies into a rage and tries to crash the ship into the pier, but Sakamoto brings down a helicopter to slow the ship to a stop and subsequently evacuate everyone; Ando forces himself to stay alive just long enough to see that Shin saved a child instead of coming to see him in his final moments, and leaves him with one final message, "Live," before his heart stops and the ship explodes. Ando was likely proud to see Shin's decision to prioritize another life over his final, brief opportunity to talk to his father, and this is certainly meant to be the truest demonstration of Shin's character; the current-day story sees Shin believing himself to be nothing more than a killer, but his willingness to kill comes solely from his desire to protect innocent lives, he just can't see himself as a savior after being responsible for his own father's death

EluSam: Amidst the political struggles of the Ashikaga Shogunate, Uesugi and Morofuyu end up on opposing sides, and Uesugi ironically teams up with the Elusive Samurai, now all grown up in 1350. I'm glad we're finally returning to the ongoing Brainwashed Fubuki storyline, but I'm honestly so uninvested in his character that I don't have any of the necessary context to understand what circumstances led to this particular scenario; I'm also disappointed that we didn't spend a little more time dwelling on Tokiyuki's romantic life - I didn't expect to see Ayako Amazoness Pressing that twink, but I at least wanted to see their daily lives AFTER deciding to be polyamorous

Witch Watch: Nico's class puts on a production of Momotaro, but out of fear of retribution from the students' parents, the teacher allows everyone to have exactly the role that they want no matter how silly or incongruous. It's so cute that Nico chose to be the ogre because she feels it's the coolest role, as it shows how much she looks up to and respects Morihito

Blue Box: Haruto tries to distract Taiki from the competition for the movie tickets by asking Chinatsu about their relationship; all three teams eventually tie, but Chinatsu insists Ayame keep the tickets for helping everyone have fun, though it seems she still can't make progress with Kyo. Very cute chapter, but I need Ayame to just fess up to Kyo already

Akane: Akane pieces together Issho's intentions for her to train overseas - since improvisation would clash with subtitles, she had to work on her consistency. Not exactly what I took away last week, but it makes sense; I also realized that I'm an idiot - I was really thrown by the idea of Rakugo having subtitles, even though I should already be intimately familiar with the basic concept - I watch anime! Of course you can convey the emotion and rhythm of a scene in another language, I see it EVERY GOD DAMN DAY!!!

Kill Blue: Noren rejects Juzo's divorce proposal, and Oka suggests that instead of ACTUALLY getting married, they just get engaged on paper because that's just as good for their purposes; Noren gives herself a Nisio Isin-style haircut, and Juzo drags her to meet with Noren's father to discuss their engagement. I'm surprised how much I don't like Noren's short hair given the everything about me, but I did notice that it looked good from certain angles, so maybe Fujimaki just needs to practice this new design a bit

Nue: Gashadokuro sets his sights on Shiroha as his vessel, so the head of the Fujino Family decides to sever Shiroha's contract with Kyokotsu, which will kill her and himself to prevent that from happening; as the two of them fight, Gakuro shows up to save Shiroha. Wait, why is the head of the family willing to sacrifice Shiroha? Wasn't the whole point of taking her back to serve the family in some way? I'm so confused...

Kagurabachi: Iori's friend, Ikura, tails the Hishaku to the hotel in an attempt to get back his only friend; Chihiro entrusts Ikura with the key to seal Iori's memories, as he represents the ties to her normal life; when Ikura is put in danger though, Iori's memories completely unlock, and her skills as Samura's daughter awaken. III KNEW IT!!! You may recall when I reviewed the chapter she first appeared in, I predicted that she'd eventually get Tobimune, so her already being a skilled swordswoman preemptively justifies that eventual turn in the story

Chojo: Cop-Bot is up for a promotion and brown noses the chief during a round of golf, only for Chojo to show up and antagonize them; Cop-Bot tries to help the chief cheat, but at the last moment has a change of heart and throws the game so that he'll stay with Chojo and Ippongi; Chojo's nasty personality immediately makes him regret this decision. I do wonder if Chojo's final bit of jackassery was a legitimate misread of Cop-Bot or if he was trying not to embarrass him by seeing through his good intentions; probably the former

Astro Royale: To repay Hibaru for saving his younger brother, Hachiku protects Tsukushi, the girl that Hibaru came to rescue, allowing Hibaru to continue fighting back against Taira. The theme of this arc seems to be "the lengths you'd go for your family" - Taira throwing away his morals for Shikaba, powerless Hiyohiko putting himself in danger for Tsukushi, and now Hachiku betraying his organization for his younger brother; however, this message becomes kind of muddied when you consider that Hachiku is also fighting his OLDER brother, so clearly he's not too worried about "family" as a whole

Kiyoshi: Nehan+Jack Joe quickly end up on the backfoot against Bakku Yoraku, Jack Joe's old friend and rival, but through the power of their bonds manage to overpower him. Bakku's design is clearly meant to evoke Jack Joe's, suggesting that in teaming up with Nehan, Jack Joe has surpassed his previous self; I'd really like to see this series get an anime, if only so I can see Jack Joe's zipper mouth moving to make it clear which one of them is speaking at any given time

Hima-Ten: Himari gets jealous of how close Tenichi is getting with Honoka, so she insists on accompanying him while he goes on a shopping errand. This is probably the most endeared I've been to the Hima-Ten relationship so far compared to Hono-Ten or Kanna-Ten, specifically because she's actually being honest with us about wanting to spend time with him, but I'm also getting kind of annoyed with her since she definitely knows how everyone else feels

Ichi: Team Desscaras makes their way to Bakugami, as advised by the prophecy, and meet Gokuraku, a man who regularly tortures Magiks in a vain attempt to acquire them; when Ichi uses magic in front of him, Gokuraku becomes enamored by the only confirmed male Witch in existence and whisks him away. Yep, I love him; I'm so glad we're going to get a glimpse into what being male in this society is like and what would motivate someone to behave so cruelly like Gokuraku does

Shinobi: Yodaka and Suzume face off against a fugitive ninja, Ban, who seems to be obsessed with being a good manager; a second fugitive ninja appears to split up Yodaka and Suzume. As I've come to expect from Takegushi's writing, Ban's a fun enemy, with his conscientiousness leading others to make incorrect assumptions about his intentions; I also really like this new guy's design, I'm curious what his bit's gonna be

Syd Craft: While meeting with Souffle at a cafe to discuss a recent murder, Syd finds himself constantly distracted by her pillowy lips; meanwhile, aspiring criminal mastermind "Madhell" Misery Killthy plots to assassinate Syd to make a name for herself; however, Misery is a good girl at heart, and ultimately only manages to give him a ton of sweets on her own dime and inadvertently lead Syd to conclude that the manager is actually the killer in disguise. I'm immediately in love with Misery, every chapter of this series that doesn't involve her henceforth will be a complete waste of my time

Embers: Not even bothering to coordinate with his team, Inanaki toys with Haitani and Takami in an attempt to break their confidence; however, in a brilliant misread of the situation, Haitani believes that Inanaki was too scared to face him head-on, inspiring Takami to think up a way they can team up to outmaneuver Inanaki. Moreso than the fact that they're about to find their synergy on the field, Haitani's ability to save Takami from an emotional spiral lays fantastic groundwork for how their dynamic will develop going forward

Beethoven: Yaso attempts to transfer into Reiro Academy, but his proctor argues that doing so after his hiatus may be detrimental to his mental health, and that his talents have likely waned; Beethoven, after wandering the academy alone for a bit, arrives just as Yaso is about to be crushed by the proctor's words and insists that Yaso pay no heed to the words of the untalented; as the proctor threatens to call security, Beethoven prepares to give a demonstration of his genius. I'm not 100% sure what Beethoven is trying to prove here, he's kind of just getting in the way of Yaso's transfer, but I imagine the intention will become clear next week, and his presence always leaves such a strong impact that I'm still entertained even when I'm a bit confused

I'm not kidding about Misery, by the way. The moment she decided that poisoning someone was too mean and gave Syd too much chocolate instead (but not SO MUCH that it would be costly to the cafe owner), I knew she was not only my Best Girl for this series, but one of my Top Ten Jump Girls overall

She's no Anonymity Requested, of course, but I think I'd go so far as to rank her above Martial Master Asumi's Okiba, just to put things into perspective for anyone familiar with my tastes

In addition to Misery, Jump gave me a lot of characters with strong Fave potential: I'm pretty immediately endeared to Ichi's Gokuraku, my opinion on Kagurabachi's Iori is dramatically shifting (though I still like Hiyuki more at the moment), and depending on how fun he is, Killingham may or may not give Kaku a run for his money as my Best Boy for One Piece. Therefore, I dub this week "New Fave Week," which will be reflected in...

This Week's Top 3:

Syd Craft because Misery is just that good

Ichi the Witch for Gokuraku's lore implications

Kagurabachi for boosting my ego by suggesting that my prediction about Iori may be correct

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 41: Technoscience

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Leo still doesn't know how he managed to wriggle himself away from Raph's mother hen-ing, but here he is now -- wandering the halls alone, looking for that Honey-doctor-whoever.

Maybe he should have stayed with Mikey.... he can't help but worry about him. Yes, he has his ninpo back, but still... This place is a bad place. Leo's not sure how to explain it beyond that. It's like being inside a house you know is the location for a horror movie. It reeks of evil.

Besides, he still has the 'epipen' Mikey handed him tucked safely away in his fanny pack.

Leo wonders what Mikey will do with it. After their whole conversation concerning how Mikey is changed now, and how Leo has been adamant that they've accepted him no matter what... he wonders what Mikey's decision will be. He could still take it and change back into his old self. Get back to 'normal'. Become the person he used to be, become the version of himself he's been fighting so hard to get back to.

Or, he could refuse it. Stay like this, with claws and a giant tail and fangs.

What would life be like after that?

Honestly, Leo hadn't even considered that option until the morning when Donnie said he couldn't figure out a retro-mutagen on his own. He said it was impossible. It was a blow to the stomach back then, a dagger in the heart to think of that. To think of Mikey forever trapped in a body that could barely speak and not yet walk upright, a body tormented by thoughts from another voice, a body broken and pieced back together crudely. At the time, it felt like giving up. But now...?

Now, Mikey can convey himself perfectly and speak clearly. Now, Mikey can walk on two legs with very little assistance. Now, Mikey's head is clear of torment.

Now, Mikey is Mikey again.

So what exactly is his choice?

Leo thinks he might know what his brother's choice will be. But he's not sure if it's the right one...

In any case, now's not the time to worry over it. He's on a search and rescue mission. Leo hobbles his way up the stairs until he feels something in his gut. It's soft, small, gentle. A light pulling sensation he can only describe as a knowing, a connection, or maybe even a reconnection, if that makes sense.

Ninpo.

A few minutes later, he gets a message from Donnie that he's found their weapons.

"Ah, so that's what that was," Leo sighs to himself.

He wishes he had his swords with him now. He usually doesn't mind searching the old fashioned way, but with the injuries he has and the time they're losing... Every extra minute in this place makes him more and more nervous.

Leo starts to heave and pant as he climbs yet another flight of stairs. He figures he's almost at the top of the whole place by now...

He gasps for breath as he leans against a door in the stairwell, which leads to yet another floor.

"Oh... Pizza supreme... I need to work out more... or not get electrocuted so much..."

Leo notices the door he's leaning against has a keypad by the handle. Huh. That's strange, none of the other doors have that...

It's either a really good sign or a really bad sign.

Leo wishes yet again that he had his portal swords... it would make things so much easier...

He glances to the side and notes the stairwell railing. Oh well. He'll have to improvise...

He grips the railing and starts shaking it, testing it for weak points. Raph would be better at this next part, but Leo can manage on his own. He pulls on one end and kicks at the other, yanking as hard as he can. It starts to come loose.

"Almost there... almost... come on, baby...!" Leo groans, wrenching the metal bar as hard as he can.

Finally, it starts to break apart! Leo just needs one good shove... He grips the thing as tightly as he can and pushes it as far as it can go. He hears a crunch of metal. One more go ought to do it! Leo revs up, takes a few steps back, rushes forwards and grips the rail with all his might before jumping over and yanking it down with him. The bar snaps off the rail and falls along with the slider turtle.

Leo concentrates, gripping the rail close to his chest as he falls down the center of the stairwell. The metal bar glows blue, and transforms into a sword.

"Man oh man, do I love my ninpo," Leo chuckles to himself, before slicing a hole in space beneath him.

He ends up tumbling right in front of the door at the top floor again, skidding to a halt as he pants for breath again. He may love his ninpo, but transforming random objects into swords like that takes it out of him. Especially when he already has his own swords... made from garden spades....

The sword flickers softly. Leo has to hurry before he exhausts his ninpo... He remembers what happened the last time he did this -- he portalled himself and Mikey out of their bedroom and into Dee's lab after having a nightmare and promptly passed out from the exertion of transforming a metal ruler into a sword. Not his best moment...

Leo holds the sword steady and prays he doesn't pass out this time...

The runes and markings on the blade shimmer before he slices the air once again. Leo limps and lumbers through the portal, tripping slightly before landing on his hands and knees at the other side of the door. The sword fizzles under his palms and reverts to its former state.

"Well... at least I didn't... faint..." he chuckles airily to himself. "....Yet."

Leonardo stumbles through the hallway, placing all his weight on the walls to support him. He's awfully dizzy, and the pins-and-needles numbing pains that occupy his chest hasn't left either. Leo makes a mental note to get revenge on all tasers and cattle prods in the future...

Maybe he should have had Raph come along with him after all.

But he said he was fine, and he saw how badly Raph wanted to stay with Mikey this time around. He knows that Mikey forgave Raph and absolved him of any mistakes from the past, but even so. This mission hits a little too close to home....... for all of them.

Leo starts to notice that the walls are beginning to have doors. Was that always happening? How long has he been zoned out? Okay, he needs to find Dr. Honeycomb as fast as he can and get back to the guys as soon as possible. The adrenaline rush he got from having his ninpo restored and escaping is beginning to wear off.

Door after door after door... name after name after name. Leo isn't sure if it's the dyslexia acting up, or the injuries he sustained, but with every door he passes, it's getting harder to distinguish the words...

Vitcro Flaco... Rublolhp Crobato... Tlyod O'Foole... Ztayon Hnoyectut...

Wait, what was that last one?

Leo does a double take and stares at the nameplate on the door. Despite his headache flaring up the dyslexia, he deciphers the strange code as Zayton Honeycutt.

"Bingo," he chuckles to himself before kicking the door down with all the might he can manage. He secretly makes yet another mental note to thank Draxum for whatever he put in the ooze that made him and his brothers so freaking strong...

There's a loud yipe from inside as the door falls to the ground. Leo rushes in and finds a fidgety, nervous old man sitting on a pathetic cot in the middle of what looks like a mini lab or workspace. It's even smaller than Dee's traincar bedroom... The man on the bed has a long and frizzy white beard, accompanied by even frizzier white tufts of hair on his balding head. There are deep circles under his eyes, and his thin frame shakes terribly.

"W-who are -- what are --" he stammers, adjusting the glasses perched on his nose.

"No time," Leo grunts, tripping slightly as he runs up to the old guy. "You're Honeycutt, right? Friend of Casey Jones Jr. and Agent Bishop?"

"Bishop?" Honeycutt whimpers, standing to his feet immediately. "Is he okay? And C-Casey, the boy, did the EPF find him or --"

"Casey's fine, he's here actually," Leo says, grabbing the old man's hand. "We're getting you guys out of here."

Honeycutt nods softly before eyeing the rest of the teenager.

"You look terrible."

"How shocking," Leo jokes.

"That sounds like a very poignant joke..." Honeycutt trembles, quickly inspecting the marks on Leo's plastron. "I'm guessing the wordplay has some truth to it?"

"I'll be fine. C'mon, we're heading to the roof --"

"Wait!" Honeycutt interjects, pulling away quickly and running to the other side of the room. "I need to get some things first..."

"What--?! We're kind of on a deadline here!" Leo gripes.

"I know, I understand, but I have to take SAL with me."

"Who's Sal?" Leo asks, glancing around the room carefully. "A pet goldfish or something?"

"No, SAL is my life's work," Honeycutt chuckles. "You see, I've been working to create artificial intelligence -- an artificial lifeform, if you will. A mechanical body with a genuine mind... and maybe even a soul. But that's for the philosophers to work out, I'm interested in seeing if it's possible to create consciousness within a machine!"

"Wait, you mean AI?" Leo clarifies, somewhat taken aback. "Doesn't that usually result in like... killer robots that destroy humanity?"

"Well... Yes," Honeycutt sighs. "My last attempt was quite... violent, to be truthful. I assume you've met Ms. Campbell by now?"

"Not yet, who's she?" Leo asks, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one is in the hall. He thought he heard something...

"Well, she was my last attempt at creating artificial intelligence," Honeycutt explains, as he packs up several irreplaceable-looking tools and gadgets. "But I got impatient with the code and morality matrixes, and I may have borrowed some data from... unfriendly sources."

"Sounds riveting," Leo says impatiently as he goes to push the old man and his oversized tin toy through the door, "You and Donnie should schedule a brunch meetup or something. But we got to go, NOW."

Honeycutt gasps and freezes as Leo tries to shove him again. He hears a click.

Leo looks up and sees a woman standing in the doorway, holding what Leo pathetically hopes is a toy blaster, and not the real thing.

"A-Abigail," Honeycutt gasps, smiling nervously as his entire body starts trembling with fear. "W-what a surprise!"

"Yeah," the woman says, sounding almost as nervous as him. "It really is. What are you doing, Zayton?"

"W-well, there was an evacuation going on, wasn't there--?"

"Don't play dumb with me, we both know you're too smart for that to work," Abigail growls. She slowly trains the blaster at the two of them, eyes darting back and forth, unsure of who to glare at. "...How could you betray us like this?!"

"B-betray?" Honeycutt stutters.

"Look, maybe we can continue this confrontation at a later date, or maybe never --" Leo attempts.

"You were going to sell us out!" Abigail yells, stomping forward and forcing Professor Honeycutt to take several steps back, along with Leo behind him. "Chaplin told us EVERYTHING! You and that rogue agent were going to go to the police?! With all our work?! All of MY work, Zayton?!"

"I-I'm sorry, Abigail," Honeycutt stammers. "But it was getting out of hand..."

"You don't even understand the meaning of the word!" she screams in his face. "OUT OF HAND?! You were right alongside us, performing your own experiments on the monster! You were using the funding, just like we were! You got your share, and you thought you could just run away?!"

Leo takes several steps to distance himself from Honeycutt, staring in shock. He knew that he worked here, knew he was involved, but... is what she saying true? Did he do things to Mikey??

Honeycutt flinches when he feels Leo move away. He glances back at him, trying to study his expression. Leo figures he must look terrified, because when the old man sees him, he looks remorseful, guilty, and hurt.

"I... I never wanted to... I didn't know what they were..."

Abigail laughs haughtily, tears in her eyes as her hands shake with pure burning rage.

"You didn't know?!" she sneers. "You were the one building the mechs, the training simulators, the ice gun, the extra-strength cattle prods and tasers, the robots -- you built us killing machines, and you DIDN'T KNOW?!"

Honeycutt trembles, shrinking under her accusations.

"And then you have the audacity to switch sides?! Turn Benedict Arnold on us and sell out your associates and friends?!" she screams, bringing the tricked-out laser gun closer to her face and pointing it at the two of them. "You... you traitor. I trusted you. Believe it or not, I trusted you. More than Chaplin, more than Timothy. I always pegged you as the level-headed one, the one person here I could count on not to lose his mind --"

"That's what I'm trying to say!" Honeycutt cries out, throwing his hands in the air. "I joined the EPF because I had a dream! Like you! Probably like most of the people who got sucked into the corporation! But it's not a corporation, it's a #%?!&@$ CULT! It's an insane asylum where the patients are running the show and the only people who have any real thoughts left are the ones in a cage!! Do you have any idea what my existence was like after Chaplin got here?! I was a prisoner loooong before he locked me in my room! And yes, I did what I was told -- because I saw what happened to people who stepped out of line! You know exactly what I'm talking about!! Remember that one guard who assaulted Mikey with the taser?! Do you know, do you remember what happened to him?!"

"Yes I do," Dr. Finn snarls. "His brain is in a jar in my lab."

Honeycutt goes pale.

"Oh. Well, last I heard, he had been mutated and caged... um, but it still proves my point! Anyone who goes against Chaplin or the TCRI --"

"That's different!" Abigail Finn defends. "He attacked the subject and almost damaged the brain --"

"And that justifies experimentation and execution?!" Honeycutt shouts back. "Chaplin is not the law, he's neither judge nor jury! He has no right to do the things he's been doing!! Can't you see how insane this is?!"

Honeycutt sighs and lowers his arms, hanging his head.

"Please... Abigail... You have to see this for what it is. I never wanted to betray anyone, but this has gone on long enough. People are getting hurt. I just... I wanted to leave."

Honeycutt slowly looks back up at her. Her hands shake softly, her eyes burn red with tears. She grits her teeth and grips the gun tighter.

"...Why do you think I came up here?" she growls. "I came to get you out."

Honeycutt's eyes go wide.

"Wait, what? Really? Then what are we even doing here; put the gun down and let's get --"

"NO," Abigail Finn growls, readjusting her stance. "Not yet."

Leo suddenly realizes that the gun isn't pointed at Prof. Honeycutt. It was never pointed at the professor. It was pointed at him.

Leo's hands slowly raise up, and he takes another step back. Dr. Finn takes one step forward.

"Abigail, what are you..?" Honeycutt asks, head bouncing back and forth as he looks between the two of them. "Abby... Abigail, s-stop!"

"You're coming with me, Honeycutt," she growls low. "We're getting out of here. But him?" Her face contorts into a snarl. "He's not going anywhere."

"You're not actually gonna shoot me, are you?" Leo laughs nervously. "You wouldn't -- I'm unarmed!"

"But we both know that you're still a living weapon," Abigail sneers. "Just like Chaplin always said about your brother..."

"Abby, stop! Please! What would you have to gain from this?!" Honeycutt pleads.

"I have everything to lose," she says, voice cracking as she steps closer. "Those turtles will destroy everything I've ever worked for. I'm not about to lose my life's work over a few sewer monsters!"

She points the gun straight at Leo, staring him point-blank in the face. He knows he can't escape, not with the condition he's in. There's no way out of here. Abigail's finger traces over the trigger...

"Just stay out of my way..."

Honeycutt steps in between the two.

"No."

Abigail's brow furrows as she glares at her former coworker.

"Zayton? What are you... get out of my way! This doesn't concern you --"

"Yes it does," Honeycutt says defiantly. "You can't hurt him."

"Watch me."

"No," he says again, guarding Leo.

Leo, who happens to find this whole scenario ironic. Shouldn't he be the one guarding Honeycutt?? But Here he is, watching in fear as a frail old man protects his life from this nutty lady.

"No, I won't move. I'm done being afraid, I'm done pretending like my absence of a choice isn't a choice in and of itself. I've been hiding for too long, letting you get away with everything. No more. I'm taking a stand for once in my life. I can't let you do this, Abby."

"Stay out of this," she seethes, gripping the magazine and handle of the blaster with all her might.

Honeycutt shakes his head.

"I'm done staying out of it."

Bang!

Leo instinctively ducks as soon as he hears the blast, before looking up in shock as the old man defending him doubles over in pain, gripping his chest as Abigail Finn panics and runs away in terror.

"What... no... No! No, no, no!" Leo screams, grabbing the old man by the shoulders and trying desperately to help him. "S-stay with me, okay?! Stay, stay here, I-I'll..."

Honeycutt gasps and gags, choking on his own blood. There's a small but deep hole where a lung is located. Leo guesses that Dr. Finn meant to shoot through the doctor and hit him... but it doesn't even matter now; Leo has to act fast. His hands are already stained red as he attempts to apply pressure to the wound...

Honeycutt grips Leo's fingers with his own, pulling him close as he gasps and fights for air.

"P-please... there's not much time," he wheezes hoarsely. "You... you n-need to get out of h-here. F-find Bishop, g-g-get the... the proof... get it out, s-so n-nothing will ha-happen t-to... to your.... y-your brother... I-I'm sorry for the p-part I played in... in it all..... but... h-hopef-fully this m-makes up for... for everything...... g..go, now......"

"No, I'm not leaving you here!" Leo growls, gritting his teeth. "I'm saving you, I'm getting you out of this mess!"

"I'm already dead," Honeycutt chuckles, before choking and hacking up blood. "I'm lost, kid... just... just go, qu-quick..."

"NO, there's gotta be someway I can save you!"

Leo glances around the room frantically, searching for something, anything he can use --

His eyes fall on the robot laying on the floor by his side. SAL.

"...You said you were trying to put consciousness into a robot, right?" Leo tries, tears streaking down his face in desperation as he runs out of options. "How??"

"The... the port..." Honeycutt manages, his voice fading as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "The... there's a cable... o-on the t...table..... blue ssssstripes..."

Leo sets him down carefully and grabs the large blue cord from the table. The end of said cable has several metal prongs connected inside of it, matching a port opening. Leo finally sticks it in after three tries, then turns to the doctor.

"O-okay, what now?!" he begs. "What do I do?!"

"The... the hel.... th'helmet..." Honeycutt exhales, his finger weakly lifting, falling, and shaking as he attempts to point to a corner cabinet.

Leo jumps into action, practically pouncing on the cabinet and shoveling supplies out as he frantically searches for the device. He eventually finds what looks like a metal bike helmet, complete with blinky lights and switches.

"Okay, okay, I think I've got it, now what?"

Honeycutt doesn't respond. Leo whirls around to look at him. His chest is starting to fall.

"No... No! No, not yet! Not when I can -- NO!"

Leo moves. Fast, desperate, swift, and with very little thinking involved.

"Really wish Donnie was here!" he gripes as he snatches the cable from the desk and shoves it into the helmet. A three-pronged needle sticks out from the other side where the porthole would be. Leo grimaces as he thinks of the pain that will follow. "Sorry, doc, but this is probably gonna sting..."

Leo drops to his knees by the professor and drives the helmet onto his head. The needles click into the nape of the neck. The lights flash, and the old man suddenly screams, his body convulsing on the ground as the device does its work.

Leo has to force himself to keep from covering his mouth at the screams; his hands are still bloody and he doesn't want to get the Professor's blood anywhere it shouldn't be. The professor shrieks in pain as the cable brightens up and blue light flows from the helmet to the little robot laying on the floor beside them. His body jerks, back and forth, the robot begins to tremble and jerk as well. A garbled, staticy shriek starts to emanate from the speakers where its mouth would be.

Suddenly, both bodies freeze and fall limp. The professor goes silent, his skin pale and shirt soaked with blood. His chest falls, his breathing ceases.

He's dead.

"...D-doc?" Leo whimpers. "Hello? Did... did it work? Please, tell me I didn't just --"

Leo hears groaning. It's robotic, staticy, almost like autotune. It slowly starts to refocus, becoming clearer and easier to understand. It sounds like... like...

"...Professor?" Leo whispers, hovering over the metal body with baited breath.

The robot -- SAL -- stirs, before slowly sitting up and placing a mechanical hand to its head.

"ᴜɢʜʜ… ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ."

Leo reels backwards from the robot half his size, as it slowly starts to stand.

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ… ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅᴏ…?" it asks, in Honeycutt's voice. "ᴡʜʏ ɪꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴀʟʟᴇʀ? ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏ ɪ --"

The robot Honeycutt halts, staring down at the new body it he has acquired.

"ᴏʜ. ᴏʜ. ᴏʜʜʜʜ -- ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴅ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴᴇ?! ɪ -- ɪ --"

"You're welcome?" Leo tries, slowly getting off the floor and to his feet as he watches the Professor come to terms with his new form. "If that really is you... Right? Doc?"

"ɪᴛ… ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍᴇ, ɪ… ᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏʜ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ…"

"Can you walk?" Leo asks nervously.

"ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ," he replies slowly. "ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴜꜱᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴᴜᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴʟᴏᴀᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ…"

"Well, read it on the way, okay?" Leo sighs with relief, taking the robot's hand and dragging him away. "We got to GO."

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[keelt9]

Chapter 7

Masterlist

This is pretty much like her childhood, staying up late at night with her parents at the entrance observing the bright sparkling stars as they swing in the rocking chair.

Now with Monet covered in his big sweater, a pre Christmas gift from her father under them.

“Is a nice guy?” Mr. Rotherham asks, grabbing his daughter's hand.

Y/N giggles seeing under them. “Dad, you know him, Monet is such a good boy.”

“Come on honey, don’t play the fool with your father.” He searches for something in his pocket.

When he found it, he gave it to her, the cute drawing of a bengal with a tiny heart next to it. 

“At least you had a tiger in your house. I highly doubt this is for an animal.” She laughs, letting her head rest on his father's shoulder.

“Dad…” 

Mr. Rotherham can picture his wife standing in the window hearing them encouraging her husband to keep talking with their daughter.

“Listen darling, I want you to know you can talk with me, I know, I'm not the best at talking about things, but you can tell me anything and…” He scoffs at kissing his daughter's hand. “Probably I'll have the worst advice in the world but, at least you know what you don't do.” 

Y/N laughs and breathes in. “Mom was amazing with the talking thing.”

Her father nods. “Still I appreciate the effort dad, but believe me there is not so much to talk about, in summary, I like him, he likes me too but…”

She takes her time seeing the stars. “But I guess it’s not the right time or maybe we aren’t the right people?”

“Y/N…”

She sees her father. “Could you trust a possibility? With the high chances a lot of thighs would go wrong.”

Mr. Rotherham wished he had the words she needed to hear, because his wife for sure would have it.

Y/N chuckles observing her father and all his neurons trying to find an answer. “Want a reason for rejecting him, right now.”

“Please, that would be so helpful.” Y/N sees Monet hiding his face in his bed. 

“Don't take in count Monet and he for sure prefers to see the dogs far away from his face.” Mr. Rotherham opens his mouth in disbelief.

“A cat boy huh?” Y/N nods. “Wise decisions darling, wise ones.”

Y/N laughs hugging her father, as Monet barks in his dreams. 

It's been 2 days since Joe's birthday and he seems in a bad mood, even if he tries to fake it.

The season is almost over and their chances to get the playoffs stopped depends on them, and he hates being in that spot.

His mind is so cloudy for those thoughts that makes him open the door after it has been knocked, without even caring who is at the other side.

Not until a small candle in the middle of a pumpkin pie lights his face.

“Happy post-birthday!” Y/N is wearing a hairband with the letters <Happy birthday> as his sight goes down Monet has a small cap.

“What?” He giggles seeing such a scene.

“Make a wish, right baby?” The word baby makes Joe's heart stop but when he raises his eyes, notice that word, of course, is directed to Monet who barks right away.

Joe smirks, he knows he needs to work for that word

After blowing the candle, Y/N was taken out of guard, he grabbed her by the arm to pull her for a hug, keeping her pressed to his chest, letting all the clouds in his mind fade away, feeling calm.

She sobs his back, feeling how his muscles relax.

“Hard weeks?” Y/N asked, grabbing tight the pumpkin pie as Monet kept moving his tail side to side.

“I’m glad you're here.” Monet barks. “Both of you.” 

Y/N smiles splitting apart seeing the dark under circles eyes from Joe eyes, strangely make the blue of his eyes turn more grey.

“And I'm a little offended.” She tilted his head. “A pumpkin pie that size?”

Joe points to the small pie. “Really?”

Y/N laughs head backwards. “I'm sorry, this was the only size, besides, you’re the one who keeps us standing in the front door in a col…”

Joe smirks, dragging her inside of the house as he calls Monet to get inside too; so happy  be with her one more time.

With later an improvised dinner, they sit with Monet in front of the big windows, seeing the sky going darker and darker every second.

“Oh before I forgot.” Y/N stands taking her key cars, but not her coat; after all it's just a quick stop to her car.

Joe sees Monet sitting tipping his paws ready for any indication that his owner gives to him.

“Oh, it's freezing!” Y/N goes inside with a small square between her cold hands.

Joe giggles putting a blanket over her shoulders. “Here! It's a present from both of us.”

Her excitement is visible so he decides to tease her opening carefully, slowly a small canva takes form; when he finally sees it, a big “Whoa!” Comes immediately.

It's the painting of him sitting with his pink hoodie and his black beanie, in the bench with a clear sky and the sunlight peeking through the branches with the green leaves, at the corner the paw in black and white of Monet.

“What do you think?” Y/N waits with curious eyes observing Joe's smile growing bigger.

Joe touches the canva feeling the edge of the brush-stroke from every change of color, the exact details from the bench and you could miss it if you don't have attention but a small football ball next to him.

“You're amazing!” By instinct, due to containing emotions or just because he knows it's the perfect moment, he gives her a quick pack in her cheek. 

Y/N covers her eyes feeling her face could easily burn if you touch it. “I tried to finish earlier but two weeks ago there were a lot of details missing, I wanted to be almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Joe raises the canva. “It's perfect! I love it.”

Seeing Joe so mesmerized by something she did is a moment she wants to treasure forever, her soft smile on his lips and his bright eyes is such a scene for her.

However her heart palpitation brings her back to the heart, one more second staring at him and she swears she will spill her feelings for him. "I must go." 

Y/N stands taking the blanket over her shoulders. "I have a lot to unpack and some things of work that I must check."

Joe turns his eyes to her and stands too.

"See you tomorrow." Y/N choke her head calling Monet.

"Monet only." Monet sits moving his head to his owner and Joe.

Joe let down his shoulders. "Sorry Joe, probably I'll have endless mails, I need to send some sketches, without counting the ones that are already concrete..." 

Monet laid his head on Joe's leg, making him scratch softly on his head. As tricky as it sounds, if he took a quick glimpse at her, he could notice the way Y/N is looking at them.

"Friday?" Joe said, lift his sight.

Y/N nods walking to grab her coat. "Like always."

As she said, Monet came running the next morning, with a visible freezing Savannah following him.

"Hey buddy." Monet waits for the sing so he can stand on two legs and kisses on the top of his head. "Hi Sav."

Savannah takes the football ball from the bag. "Burrow."

"Is she already working?" Joe asked, taking the ball, pressing it between his hands.

The park has Christmas lights all over the place, giving to the sunrise a special spark every morning, with the sunlights perking over the trees, the place is magical.

Savannah smiles, putting her hands in her pockets. 

"I believe I see my best friend somewhere behind the tower's papers and a few electronic things.” Joe laughs before throwing the ball. 

The fact Monet is so happy to see him even if they just spend time playing makes her curious about how this could start.

“So, Joe, how did you meet this cute little boy?” Joe lifts his eyebrows seeing the size of Monet, far from little.

“Well…” Joe chuckles. “He hates me and I was afraid of him. The first time we saw each other he came and sat there.” 

He points to the small bump of the hill where the breeze hits and the sunlight keeps you warm, unless it’s summer, if you stand there you could get a sunburn. 

“I kept my distance every time he arrived and he just walked next to the bench, sniffs in my direction and walks to lay on the hill; ignoring me all the time.” Savannah laughs, that’s exactly what Y/N does every time she meets someone and tries to approach her.

Observing the person, fakes a smile and processes to ignore it all the time, until she finds something to talk about.

“Then…” She mentions as sees Monet tapping his paws, Joe hasn’t thrown the ball all this time, he smirks and throws it. 

“One day, the sun disturbed him, so he lay next to the bench; he was a puppy and I couldn't avoid smiling. I sat next to him, he saw my hand with the cast and sniffed it carefully.” Monet walks back with the ball in his snout. “He lays his head on my lap next to my hand.” Savannah smiles. “I guess that 's all begins…”

“It makes sense.” Savahaan nods. “It’s hard to know who trained him better, you or Y/N.” 

Joe goes down for a stroke Monet spotted fur, observing the pink bandanna around his neck, his present for his first birthday.

“I guess she's doing an extraordinary job.” Savannah mentions admiring the connection between those two.

“Yeah, she’s extraordinary.” Joe said with a soft tone and sheepy eyes, not referring at all to the job of Y/N with Monet. 

Savannah wants to scream at that moment because that confirms that whatever he said that night drunk probably has more than a glimpse of truth.

“I’m here!” Nora said, taking her backpack as she entered the Y/N house. “Here.” Carrying a paper bag.

Y/N takes her glasses; the three towers of paper now are two. “Hi.” She narrowed her eyes when she gave the paper bag. “Your sister said don’t buy anything.”

Nora raises her hands. “I didn’t. I found the delivery guy in the entrance about to knock.”

If for delivery boy she refers to Joe taking her to the house after Nora suggests he bought something for Y/N eat, due she tends to skip the meals when she does that amount of work, yes, he was a delivery boy.

“I didn’t order anything.” Nora shakes her head picking up the files around Y/N. 

“I don’t know.” She put it next to Y/N. “Hey, I have homework. I’ll be in the living room, ok?” 

Y/N nods. “Sav will be here in 20 with Monet and the food.”

“Got it!” 

Nora stands next to the frame door trying to hear something as Y/N opens the paper bag. 

A smoothie and healthy snacks, at the bottom of the bag a pink note that makes her scoff. 

 >Drink it! It helps you to stay awake without the need of a coffee.” 

The attempt of a drawing of an ice cube in the corner, when she lifts the cup to take a sip she notices another note.

 > I MEAN IT!

This time a laugh escapes from her, making Nora high five mentally.

Y/N texts Joe when she drinks all the smoothie, the empty cup with a simple text. 

 >It was delicious, thank you.

In his half sleep state Joe let a soft chuckle escape from him, one last time before going to sleep.

“It tastes like red.” Joe giggles as Monet lay on their feets. 

“That’s not even a flavor” Y/N rolls her eyes at him, feeling the sunlights warm them.

Last night a small sleet fell all over the city, without even them having to ask if they would go or not to the park. Both of them, well wrapped up, appeared in the morning in the park sitting and sharing a blanket. 

“Well, it has what? Strawberries, raspberries, and what red beet?” She said covering Monet with the blanket even though he has a sweater.

“Oh, such a good palate.” Joe jokes with her. “Still you forgot blueberries”

She scoffs. “That’s not red, I’m not counting that.” 

“It has a little bit of red.” Y/N shakes her head, taking her phone to prove him wrong but Joe sees her screen.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Y/N looked at her phone but it’s too late. 

“It's not a donut.” She tries to focus the attention on another topic, knowing it’s useless. 

Joe clicks his tongue. “Ha, ha, ha, you saw it, I know.” So she gives up when she sees his eyes hiding like every time he purely smiles. 

“Are you kidding me?” She takes a huge amount of courage and prying things doesn’t turn awkward. “See…. You're my happy lock screen.” 

The photo of Ja’Marr splattering the donut in his face is her lockscreen, one of Joe small presents of his birthday.

“Don’t feel bad but there is a better point of view.” Joe leans, letting his face be just centimeters of hers, she didn't notice, until she was about to turn around to complain for not having it when her words stuck on her throat seeing Joe that close. 

She had him like this, close, just this time it feels different; his eyes are shiny blue like always but they looking at her with a soft spark, the red tip of his nose makes her bite a little bit her lip, along the fact he had that side smile on his face and his beanie makes her heart flutter.

For Joe isn’t too different, she’s had her red cheeks, her eyes wide open in surprise but unable to move from his face making him nervous but impossible to contain the smile and her button lip bitten, just a little bit is dead to him.

If he would dare, he would just need to lean towards and kiss her; she was just a few centimeters of distance. She wouldn't step back, she would accept it and follow him...

If they had one more second…

Monet came out of the blanket sniffing around making Y/N finally take her distance taking a deep breath calming her breath and her heart.

Monet walks around the bench making Y/N stands trying to get herself together one more time, but it takes more time than usual. 

Joe won’t let it pass that chance, he simply can’t.

“Y/N, can w…” His words stuck in his throat when Monet barks jumping around Y/N in a clear sign of joy.

A squirrel comes running down a tree; fun fact, Monet is a fan of the squirrels; he rarely sees one in the city but in Y/N fathers house, he can see them daily.

“Did I ever tell you Monet loves squirrels?” Y/N laughs seeing Monet's front legs stretch and his but up in the sky, he wants to play with the squirrel. “Sorry baby, these are fancy ones.” 

The squirrel sees Monet and runs back in the tree, making Monet whining standing in the tree. 

“Let’s go baby.” Y/N takes the leash of her bag skim Joe chest with her arm. “It’s time for Joe to go training, right?”

Joe nods, the time has passed. <Damn it squirrels.> He cursed in his mind.

“Take some rest Joe, I know you love being locked in the office but, just take a rest.” Y/N smiles with press lips.

Monet waits in front of Joe as he patted his head, making him giggle. “Take care of her, ok? She’s getting more cuts in those fingers.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes feeling the 3 band aids Joe put on her a few minutes ago. “Yes, sir.” 

Joe laughs seeing Y/N walks with their matching black bandanna; Monet around his neck, she over her head.

Joe follows her until she gets lost in the few snowflakes falling from the sky, with a burning sensation over his chest where she skims with her arm.

With another win against Browns and without noticing Nora has planted a seed that is starting to grow.

For Y/N it could be just a simple act that she finds endearing but for Joe means a lot.

After a long day Y/N sent Joe a chubby drawing of him; it could be one moment in the sidelines, he on the field, after the game, in the press conference, but Y/N knows is the moment that left her more breathless.

Nora mentioned how amazing her chubby drawings are; small bodies, big heads with cute expressions. Y/N did one for Nora one day while she was doing homework biting her pencil as she tried to balance a chemical thing.

Nora loves it and she just mentioned randomly, how amazing it is and she probably could have tried with another model, pointing Y/N’s cell phone with the lock screen light on.

Win on the pocket and a lot of big men in the locker room, Joe must use his hoodie to hide the big smile and the blushing face when Y/N sent him the sketch of him being lifted by Mims, both of them with cute expressions and small bodies.

Trey raises his eyebrows when he turns around to find Joe hiding in his hoodie.

“Joe, everything is fine?” Joe confirms with his thumb, yes. “Sure?”

Ja’Marr helps his friend. “My man is red with joy.”

Joe slid in the seat before peeking one more time at the image on his phone, giggling as he closed his eyes.

In Cincinnati, Nora and Savannah are high five silently as they observe Monet laying on the carpet but his head straight, choking to the left seeing Y/N biting her lip with a pen between her fingers and a tablet in her lap making zoom to what she just drew.

“Is she in love?” Nora whispers to her sister.

Savannah breathes in taking the out for serving the lunch, taking the napkin and sliding it to Nora.

A simple pinky heart in the corner. “And she colored it with a raspberry.” Nora smirks.