#Is that I spend extra time over leveling myself and then I continue and sweep stuff and then repeat this usually and idk why especially

[cathalbravecog]

Really should be sleeping but I really just have to share that Archie my dearest finally got to Misty... At last they can see their bestie

(Their real objective is the destruction of Barnacle Bessie, the only being in existence that Archie feels negatively towards)

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 11

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: Child birth, language, tooth aching fluff

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one  thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a     family, right?

AN: Two updates in a row! (Unedited) Now the taglist is officially closed now that we only have the Epilogue left. Thank you to everyone who took this journey with me, let me know what you think! much love, Cia

Chapter 11: A PowerPoint, really?

Morgan called outside the door for more nurses as soon as he heard what you said. Soon 3 women are rushing into the room, one of them clad with a wheelchair. You look at Morgan as they begin to load you in the chair. 

“Derek, call Garcia and tell her to come with my emergency birth bag, then call Dr. Lizzie and tell her the baby is coming-AHHHHH!” You screamed as you were being wheeled out. Contractions, as they turn out, are the worst feeling ever. 

Garcia is barging into your hospital room not long after that baby bag in tow. You kept an extra one at her place just in case you went into labor when the team was out on a case. “I drove just about 90 mph to get here. How are you feeling, mama bear?” 

“Like Satan himself is putting me on a spit roast.” You grunt through clenched teeth. 

“Think of the bright side you’re about to give birth to the cutest, most intelligent baby.” Garcia says. “Plus Dr. Liz told me I need to keep you calm so let’s do your breathing exercises.” Garcia starts huffing in syncopated time in order to get you to follow. You scream in her face. “Ok, so maybe not.” 

“Who’s ready to have a baby?” Dr. Liz says, in a joyous tone as she sweeps into the room. “Let’s take a look at you.” 

“Thank god! Lizzie, I need epidural. Shoot me up, Doc.” You groan from the pain. 

“So someone is a little more eager to meet the world than we thought. It’s too late to safely administer epidural. You’re going to have to go natural, kid.” 

You look at her wide eyed. “WHAT?!” You shake your head. “I-I can’t.” 

“You can, Y/N.” Penelope says. “You can squeeze me as hard as you can.” 

Tears start to fall from your eyes from the combination of pain and loneliness you felt. “I can’t do this, I need-I need Spencer.” 

You hear the door opening. Spencer walked in pushing an IV still attached to his arm, other one draped around Derek’s shoulder as he helped him walk in. Once Spencer was next to you and leaned against the wall, Derek and Penelope stepped back to give you and Spencer privacy in your moment. 

“Alright, you’re crowning. It’s time to push so next time you have a contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.” Dr. Liz says, you nod. Spencer is pushing some of your sweat matted hair out of your forehead. 

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.” 

“I told you I’d be here for you, for this.” He says, grabbing your hand letting you squeeze around his palm. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Spencer, I--AHHHHH!” You say, pushing. Your hand tightly squeezes around Spencer’s who despite how rough you must look right now is looking at you with the utmost awe and admiration. Dr. Liz gives you some words of encouragement as you breathe waiting for the next contraction. 

“You don’t have to say it, I know, Y/N. I know.” He says, hand running through your hair. 

“No, I need to say it. Spencer, I’m so in love with you. I love you so much, I’m sorry I kept hurting you but I need you. I love you--AHHHH!! I take it back, I hate you! I fucking hate you for doing this to me!” 

Spencer kisses the hand you’re squeezing. “I love you too, Y/N/N. And I know you don’t mean that. It’s actually fairly common for all mammals giving birth to feel disdain towards their partne--” 

“SHUT UP!” You yell as you push. “I usually love your facts but right now, shut the fuck up!”  

“You’re doing great, mom. Just one more.” You hear Dr. Liz shout over your screams. 

They don’t tell you this in any book, Doctor’s appointment, or  mommy and me class but for a moment even though it is a fleeting moment. There is a stillness in the air where everything is silent and you are only snapped out of it at the sound of your baby’s first cry. Everything else from the cheers to Spencer cutting the cord is drowned by the sound of your baby loudly entering the word. 

Your baby. 

They place her on your bare chest and your arms instinctively wrap around your most precious being. You coo as the baby continues to cry the fluid out of her lungs. She’s covered in blood and goop but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Suddenly the thing you’ve wanted for so long was finally here and she was everything and more than what you thought, the perfect manifestation of you and Spencer’s love for each other. 

Genevieve Rosalind Reid was born early November 10th. Given the name Genevieve after the song, Lady Genevieve, you and Spencer loved so much and Rosalind after famous female scientist Rosalind Franklin. 

Not more than a couple of hours after the rest of the team is slinking into the room to get a peak at the baby, bearing gifts and congratulations to you both. Spencer managed to negotiate with the doctor to at least have a bed moved into your room so if they were going to make him lay and rest at least he could be near you and the baby. Soon, one by one the team starts leaving the last being Penelope who Derek had to haul away with him. You turn to Spencer once they’re gone. 

“I love you, Spencer. I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I was scared.” 

“I know, Y/N. I love you, why were you scared?” 

“I didn’t want to lose you with my selfishness. Genevieve needs you more than I do, I didn’t want to sacrifice her having both parents because I couldn’t control myself.” 

He reaches across the aisle between your beds for your hand which you stretch to him as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says looking you in your eyes. “I would never abandon either of you. I love you, but no matter what happens between us, we’ll make it work. For Genevieve.” 

“For Genevieve.” You repeat back.  

------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been about 9 months since you had Genevieve and you and Spencer we’re still going strong. Though the first couple of months were difficult with Spencer being injured and having an actual newborn to care for. You were still better than before, Spencer made things better. Genevieve was perfect and looking more and more like Spencer with each passing day. In fact, it seemed the only trait she did take from you was a wild stubbornness and love for Disney movies. 

You were out walking Genevieve in her stroller when you got a call. 

“Hey Spence. What’s up?” 

“Hey, where are you?” You hear over the line. 

“I’m walking with Gen in the park.” You say. 

“Do you want to meet at the coffee shop on the corner?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see it. “Sure, get me a cold brew.”  

You push the stroller into the coffee shop ten minutes later and walk over to the corner table you and Spencer have deemed yours. Your daughter is already fussy and making grabby hands for Spencer, who smiles and scoops her out the stoller. 

“Hey, Bug.” He says, sweetly as your daughter smiles brightly at him.

“God, she’s such a traitor. Instantly forgets I exist as soon as she sees you.” You say, as he hands her back so you can put in the high chair for lunch. You’re opening her banana and pears baby food when you notice it. “Why do you have my laptop?” You ask. 

“Well, open it.” 

You give Spencer a weird look before handing him the food to feed Genevieve so you can open the laptop. Your heart stops for a second as you read what’s on the screen. 

“A PowerPoint, really?” You chuckle. “Spencer, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Marry Me.” He says, looking up to look you in the eyes. 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Spence.” You chuckle, wetly. “And you thought a PowerPoint was the best way to ask?” 

“Well, I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” You say, chuckling at the memory of your first friendly encounter. You take the food back from him. “Well, show me what you got.” 

“Okay, Reason #1, You love me.” You laugh, nodding as he goes to the next slide. “And I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Spencer…” You said, swooning slightly. 

“#2, I’d be a great husband.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” You say, chuckling. 

“Have I given you any indication that I wouldn’t be?” 

You smile and shake your head no. 

“#3, I have a ring, a very pretty one that Garcia helped me pick out and it’s yours if you say yes.” Spencer says, that makes you laugh loudly because of course she did, no wonder she’d been acting weird at work for the past couple of weeks. “In all seriousness… Y/N, I love you and I feel like I’ve loved since you brought me to this coffee shop more than a year ago and asked me to make the best decision of my life. You are my best friend, the mother of my child… I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share my life with. So..” Spencer takes that moment to stand to kneel down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Please.” 

The tears that had been threatening to fall since he started were coming in full swing now. You nodded fast. “Yes! 1000% yes!” You exclaim. Spencer takes that moment to slide the ring on to your finger as you hear the faint applause from the bored baristas in the empty coffee shop who have gotten to know you both over the years. Spencer sweeps you into a deep kiss, that you can barely stop smiling for. You pull apart when you hear Genevieve start to babble in her highchair, reaching for the two of you. 

“Oh, come here, Bug.” You say, going to pick her up, kissing the top of her head. “Can’t stand not being the center of attention, huh?” 

“Well, she is her mother’s daughter.” Spencer chuckles when you level a bored expression at him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He says, starting to pack Genevieve’s stuff back into her stroller. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asks. 

You think for a second. “How’s Wall-E sound?” 

Spencer smiles when he hears you say the first movie you watched together. That was the night he knew for sure that he was going to marry you someday. You didn’t know it yet, but Spencer did, and he was rarely wrong. 

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” He smiles, as the three of you walk out of the coffee shop, a newly cemented family.

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[igotbulletproof-insomnia]

Adopting Bangtan 08

01 previous

Supermarket Sweep

You were never going grocery shopping with seven kids ever again in your life.

The chaos. The absolute chaos was something that you somehow never expected. You actually thought that shopping with all seven kids would be the most efficient way to accomplish the task. Sit Kookie in the cart and let him “help” you by picking out the area to shop and hold the bags while you pick the vegetables. Send Yoongi and Namjoon to buy the snacks because they were the most sensible of all of the children and wouldn't have you spending way more money than necessary. Let Taehyung and Jimin retrieve the bread and the milk. Let Seokjin pick the meat because he was surprisingly talented at the job. And then everyone was supposed to meet you back at the shopping cart, still located in produce, so that you could pay and you all could go home. It should have taken thirty minutes, tops.

Instead, you found yourself chasing Taehyung around the store while Jimin kept an eye on Jungkook and you really, really hoped that he didn’t grab the most expensive apples on display, but you have the feeling that he would — because of course, he would. Prices didn’t seem to exist to any of the younger kids.

Instead, Jin was throwing a fit because all of the meats on display were apparently complete rubbish and he refused to let you spend money on anything but the most expensive cuts of beef so you “just have to” make another stop at the actual butcher’s shop. Granted, if Jimin spent all of your money on asparagus, your family would be eating vegetarian this week.

Instead, as soon as you managed to grab Taehyung, who apparently just wanted to replace Jungkook as your shopping partner, Namjoon appeared with a reasonable request for more variety in tea for the house. Which opened up a whole new can of worms as Taehyung realized he can ask for things too. This had him running back to Jimin and the shopping cart with a grin on his face, demanding that they find the snack aisle because you were going to buy them extra snacks if they asked, and Jimin’s face lit up with a smile so bright that dammit, it was going to be hard to explain what a budget was and why it wasn’t a good idea to exceed it.

(and yeah, you checked. Jimin grabbed the most expensive radish and lettuce he could find, and you were going to have to break out the vegetarian cookbook.)

(except for the bananas. It seemed Jungkook picked up the bananas)

Thankfully, Yoongi — lovely, beautiful, blessed Yoongi — had been returning to the shopping cart with his arms full of a variety of snacks, all low in price but high in popularity at home. He took one look at the chaos of whining and fussing children, rolled his eyes heavenwards, and took control.

“You get one.”

His tone left no room for argument; even you stood straight and stopped making a scene. Yoongi led the group back to the snack aisle and replaced everything he picked and let the others run wild. Together, you watched the others pick out snacks and place them, one by one, into the shopping cart.

“... They’re going to blow the snack budget like this,” you commented idly.

“I know.”

“That’s why you put the rest back, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And these snacks aren’t going to last as long as they usually do, will they?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank goodness you’re so smart,” you ruffled his hair. “This is why I keep you around.”

“You keep me around because you don’t want me living by myself and I save you from going broke.” Yoongi’s tone was as matter of fact as ever and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Like I said, smart kid.”

Yoongi grinned back. You liked the fact that these kids didn’t take you too seriously. You had a good balance of deference, respect, and playfulness with all of them, even if you weren’t sure who actually ran the household most of the time. “Go pick you something, Yoon. You don’t have anything for yourself.”

“You can’t afford what I want.”

“I probably can’t afford what anyone wants, they aren’t paying attention to the prices.” And indeed, Taehyung and Jimin, your babies with the most expensive tastes, were debating the merits of two snacks that were way outside of the price range you would normally consider. But again, Jimin’s smile was so broad that you were reluctant to tell him no and watch that fearful, nervous look fall back into place. You would talk to him about budgets and restrictions another time. “I’ll make it work, don’t worry about it right now.”

With a grateful smile, Yoongi asked you to grab the snack he wanted, placed just out of his reach on a top shelf. It wasn’t priced too far out of budget, but it was different from the things he normally selected for your busy household of eight. You made a mental note to pay attention to how much Yoongi enjoyed the snack and check the stores for similar ones. The kid did so much and asked for so little, it would be nice to do this one thing for him.

“Wait a moment…” you frowned, counting off. “Where’s Hoseok?” Immediately all of the children quieted down, looking to each other as if to confirm that yes, someone was missing.

“Wasn’t he supposed to go with Jin-hyung?” asked Namjoon.

“No, I thought he was keeping Jimin and Taetae company?”

“Oh my God, you lost Hoseok.” That accusing tone came from Taehyung, and you watched Jimin’s face go from lightweight confused to completely devastated. You hated it, had suspicion that he was wondering if you would eventually do the same thing to him, if you would get bored or disappointed or angry and cast him off, lose him in a store or at a park like Hoseok explained happened to him, like all of Jimin’s previous parents did to him.

“Okay, boys,” you shouted, uncaring of the stares you attracted. The boys startled, but gave you their full attention, which was one hundred percent more than you’d had the entire grocery trip. You continued to speak firmly, and could tell the show of authority did more to calm their panic than the shouting. You decided that they needed to focus on something other than their lost brother. “This is what we’re going to do: Namjoon, you’re going to take Taetae and Jimin and get the bread, milk, and all the dairy stuff like I told you before, okay? Add eggs to that list. Yoongi, go get the paper products. Get the brands we used to get, not the ones we used last time, they’re cheaper and sturdier. Seokjin, we’ll go to the butcher’s if we have the budget when we finish here, but I promised we could have meat for dinner, so take Kookie and find something, okay?” All of the boys nodded at their assignment. “Good. Yoongi, Joonie, find Jin when you’ve got your things. Seokjin, when you’ve finished, wait for me in produce. You all understand? I’m going to go find Hoseok. He probably got distracted and can’t find us.” Hoseok had a habit of doing that. He often got lost among the chaos, because while everyone was being loud and boisterous, Hoseok was often quiet and did the things that went unnoticed. If you assigned dairy, meat, and snacks, then Hoseok probably went off to grab paper towels or rice or something you needed at home but forgot about. You wouldn’t be surprised if he came to the store with the list Yoongi and Jin never felt the need to write.

So the kids separated, worried and mumbling to each other, but occupied with their tasks. They were trusting in your ability, in your promise to locate their missing brother before you all went home. Whether these kids were abandoned by their parents (or maybe ran away from home, Seokjin never discussed why he chose to stay with his former teacher) , you found them and chose to take care of them. It was understandable that they would be worried. Up until now you had probably seemed like some sort of savior to them. Maybe not infallible, and definitely not… whatever it was that made other adults seem parental, but you had taken care of them, kept track of them, and protected them. Losing one of them had probably shaken their hearts.

It didn’t take long before you Hoseok as you predicted, standing in the frozen section, a piece of paper and pen in his hands. He bit his tongue as he read through it, humming to himself and ticking off items. A hand basket sat at his feet, overfilled with supplies.

“I’m pretty sure you should have an actual shopping cart for that,” you told him. Hoseok startled, jumping nearly a foot in the air and shouting in surprise. The petty, upset parent part of you feels satisfied for it, like Hoseok got what he deserved for scaring you the way he did. The more rational part of your brain is just glad that you were right and he hadn’t been kidnapped. Casually, you looked over the basket. “I didn’t even think about checking the spice cabinet. You’re a clever kid.”

“I just wanted to be helpful,” Hoseok replied with a shrug.

“It would have been helpful if you told me where you were going.”

“... I didn’t do that?” Hoseok’s eyes went big and wandered left and right. He seemed to be making himself smaller, pulling his arms close and leaning away from you.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I… oh.”

“We got very scared,” you explained. “We thought you got lost. The other boys were panicking.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… everyone else got an assignment and I didn’t, so…”

“So you thought I wouldn’t notice if you disappeared for a bit.” You nodded and ignored Hoseok’s flinch when you crouched down to his level. He wasn’t terribly short, he was actually almost as tall as your shoulder, but it was always easier to have these sorts of talks when you weren’t looming over him. “It’s okay, I’m not mad about you shopping on your own. I’m actually really glad that you took initiative to do something helpful. But you did scare me. I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know if you got lost or ran away or if someone stole you from me. I’m glad I know you well enough to assume you brought your own list, but I was still afraid of being wrong. I really, really don’t know what I would do if you went missing, Hoseok. I haven’t had you for long, but my heart would hurt. I care about you that much, okay? So please, communicate. Tell me when you’re going to wander away, and tell me where you’re going so that I know you are safe.” Hoseok nodded fervently, most likely an effort to convince you he was sincere and wouldn’t disappear on you again. You opened your arms for a hug, You opened your arms for a hug, partially to comfort yourself, but mostly to soothe Hoseok. He looked like he might burst into tears and needed the comfort.

“Okay, good.” You squeezed the kid tight, your hold unrelenting until you felt the kid push away. “Alright, let me see that list of yours.” Together, you and Hoseok went through his list, and you were amazed that he was so thorough. Apparently the kid started taking stock as soon as you mentioned the intent to go to the grocery store earlier in the week. Hoseok noticed that you had a habit of leaving something out and he thought that making a list would be helpful. When you decided that you were going to take all of the kids with you, he decided to just hold on to the list himself.

“From now on, you’re making grocery lists,” you decided as you made your way back to Jin. “Maybe even all of the lists if you’re this organized. What do you think of that?”

Hoseok grinned, obviously proud of himself. “I think that sounds awesome!” He cheered. “Is this like how Yoongi gets to be in charge of the budget and Jin is in charge of the kitchen and Joonie is in charge of all of us?”

“Kind of yes, something like that,” you said. “Because obviously I’ll lose my head otherwise.”

“I’m sure we’ll keep track of your head too if you want.”

“Ah, why are all of my kids so snarky? I don’t deserve this,” you cried, hugging Hoseok more tightly to your waist. “All I do is give them love and a home, and they pay me back in sass.”

“But you love us, right?” Hoseok asked. His voice was a little softer than before, and you saw it for the genuine question that it was, not the joke that it would have been had it come from Jin, Joon, or Yoon.

“Of course,” you told him. “Don’t you doubt that for a second.”

When you went searching for the rest of the kids, you found them standing by Jin with the shopping cart, all lined up on the side of the aisle and eerily quiet. Even Jungkook in the shopping cart was holding his hands in his lap, eyes down cast.

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

“No,” was the resounding answer.

“Okay, good.” You shake off your curiosity. Whether that was because you trusted Seokjin or because you were afraid of the answer, you were undecided. “Hoseok, do you want to delegate tasks? We have a few more things on your list, right?” Hoseok noded, and set about sending his brothers off in pairs to retrieve the remaining items on his checklist. After the two sets had wandered off, Hoseok looked up again.

“Could you…?”

“Seokjinnie, you good by yourself?”

“I’ll have Kookie with me, it will be great.” Jin shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll still meet over in produce when you’re finished, okay?”

Jin huffed his frustration at the meat selection. “I think we’re just having fish tonight. Is that fine with you?”

“If it’s okay with your brothers, it’s okay with me.”

“They’ll be fine with it,” Seokjin declared. His tone said he was still very irritated with whatever happened while you were gone.

“Get some cheaper produce when you’re finished, please.”

“Sure thing,” Seokjin agreed absently, wandering further up the aisle.

“Holler if you need me,”

“I will.”

“Just don’t scare everyone when you do.”

“Now you’re just taking away my fun.”

After all of that, you spent another fifteen minutes in the store. The trip to the butcher’s shop was put off for the following night, and you all made the unanimous decision to eat ramen and kimchi for dinner. You were also very loud about never bringing seven kids grocery shopping ever again.

That was, until two weeks later when Jimin’s adorable pout convinced you that they would be on their absolute bestest behavior (spoiler alert: they weren’t).

To find more of my child-bangtan fics, select the "Collecting Strays" tag at the bottom of this page ^_^

[afictionaladventure16]

Remember Me (Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader)

Chapter 6

Remember Me Masterlist

Previously on Remember Me... 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,674

A/N: Thank you to @mybesttobobcratchit for editing this chapter for me and for giving me some ideas! I appreciate her so much! Go show her some love on her blog! She writes some really good fics! I highly recommend! 

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! As always, feedback is always appreciated! 

“Z wants an update on the…” Roger looked around for listening ears. “The um-” he cleared his throat, “assignment.” Roger looked back at his phone where he had just received a text from Zemo, asking for a mission update. Roger was beginning to become annoyed with all these texts for updates. Zemo was sure an impatient person. Roger realized that he wasn’t getting an answer from you. “Are you even listening?” he asked harshly as he looked over at you. 

You were watching children by the playground as they ran around avoiding another small child. 

“What are they doing?” You questioned. “Why won’t they let the other kid near them? Is he dangerous?” 

Roger looked at you with disbelief. How could you not know what the children were playing? Everyone has played tagged in their childhood at least once. 

“They’re playing,” Roger softly said. You gave him a confused expression. “My god,” he whispered. Roger then realized that you didn’t know what that meant. He took a mental note to look at your files the next time he was in the compound. 

“What do you remember?” Roger asked. 

“You mean from my past?” He gave you a nod. “I remember feeling cold then waking up and there was the doctor and Zemo… that’s about it.” 

Roger’s heart ached. He had thought that the catch-up assignment had given you knowledge of everything, or that it had given you your old memories back. He wasn’t given details and he didn’t question it. He was only now realizing how much was taken from you for you to be the soldier you were now. 

He thought of what you must be going through; the confusion, no recollection of your past. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like. He loved his childhood and remembered so many fond times of him and his friends or memories of spending time with his family. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. Feelings weren’t something people in his position could spare. There was only the mission. The mission was what mattered. Still, seeing the confused look on your face at the sight of the children playing caused an ache to form in his chest.

Roger looked down at his watch. 

“You’re going to be late for class,” he said softly. You quickly looked over at Roger. 

“Shit, you’re right.” You grabbed your duffel bag. “See you in two hours?” Roger gave you a small nod, you then ran out of the park and made your way to class. 

~~ Roger’s POV ~~

I watched as she walked away. I couldn’t believe it. I feel so horrible for the way I’ve treated her. She’s only fifteen and yet, she doesn’t remember her childhood. Shit, she barely even had one. What she did have probably consisted of moving from place to place. I couldn’t imagine it. 

I continued to watch as the children in the playground chased each other, calling out “you’re it!” when they finally caught up to one another. If she didn’t know what tag was… what else did she not know? What information did she get from Zemo’s program? 

I shook my head again, only this time it was because I’d come to a resolution.

“I have to do something,” I whispered as I stood up from the bench. 

~~ No one’s POV ~~ 

Bucky fell to the ground and chuckled.

“I see you’ve been practicing,” he laughed. He got off the floor and got back into his stance. 

“R- My dad has been helping me practice on his free time,” you explained. 

“He must have a lot of free time if you’re this good,” Bucky said. You shrugged. 

“Depends.” You cleared your throat, “So, you and Natasha? That a thing?” you asked as you wiggled your eyebrows. Bucky chuckled as he relaxed his stance. 

“Yeah, it’s been a thing,” he said as he walked over to his water bottle. 

“Oh yeah? For how long?” Bucky sighed. 

“Years.” You hummed in response. “Let’s see how good your punches are,” Bucky said trying to change the subject. 

You held up your fists in front of you, your left foot in front of your right. Shoulders and arms relaxed. 

“Are you and Natasha married?” you questioned as Bucky checked your stance. 

“Not yet,” He softly said. “We hope to get married soon… it’s long overdue,” he whispered the last part. Bucky lifted up his palms, “Alright, I want you to punch my palms, not too hard, please. I already know you can knock me down with one sweep of your leg. I just want to see how well you can punch. See what we need to work on when it comes to your punches.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to use a glove for this?” Bucky smirked. 

“Yeah, but I can handle it.” You raised your eyebrows before smirking to yourself. 

“Alright.” 

“Again, not too hard.” On Bucky’s cue, you began to punch the palms of his hands. A few minutes went by before Bucky gave you a nod. “I think that’s good enough.” You let go of your stance and walked over to your water bottle. Glancing back you saw Bucky shaking out his hand and you couldn’t help the smirk that came to your lips.

“So, do you and Natasha have any kids?” Bucky’s eyes widened, his heart began to race. How was he supposed to answer that question? 

“Uh- wh-what?” he stammered.

“You and Nat, do you guys have kids? You know, little whippersnappers?” 

Bucky let out a nervous chuckle, he opened his mouth to respond but the sound of a familiar voice interrupted. 

“J.J.!” You both looked over to see Roger walking over to where you stood. You gave Roger a confused expression. 

“D-dad? What are you doing here? I thought I said to pick me up in an hour?”  

“I know,” Roger sighed. Roger looked over at Bucky, "I hope you don't mind." 

“No, no, by all means.” Bucky gently massaged his hand. “I think we had enough for today anyway,” he said with a smile. Roger smiled at Bucky. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You walked over to grab your bag, quickly following after Roger as you waved Bucky goodbye. 

“What was that all about?” You questioned as soon as you both were out of the building. 

“We have a side mission to do,” Roger said as he led you down the sidewalk. 

“Side mission? Z didn’t message me,” you quickly took your phone out. 

“This doesn’t involve him.” Roger put his hand on your phone, an indication that he wanted you to put it away. “Just don’t worry about anything and follow my lead, alright?” You gave him a nod and walked with him down the streets of New York. 

You followed him until a small building. The sounds of laughter and shouting filled your ears as your eyes took sight of kids next to machines. They pressed buttons and watched as the small figures on the screens moved. There was a mixture of bells, booms, car engines, gunfire, you couldn’t quite figure out where you were or as to why it was so loud. 

“What is this?” you questioned to Roger who wore a smile on his face at the sight. 

“An arcade.” 

“A what?” 

He chuckled and nodded for you to follow him. He led you to a machine that wasn’t being used; PAC-MAN, it read. 

“Pacman?” 

“One of the greatest arcade games out there,” he explained. “Here, let me show you how to play,” he dug through his pocket, pulling out a couple of quarters and slid them into the small slot in the machine. “Watch closely,” he informed. 

You watched as he moved the small lever, watching the screen to see what it did. The game seemed simple enough. The yellow circle needs to eat the white circles if caught by a ghost the yellow circle dies. The small figures of food were extra points, and the big white circles gave you the ability to eat the ghosts. Simple enough. 

Or so you thought. 

Roger eventually let you try out the game, you died within the first minute. 

“What?!” You exclaimed as you looked over at Roger. “It seemed so simple!” 

He chuckled and placed two more quarters within the machine. 

“Try again.” 

You had a face of determination as you focused on the screen once more. This went on for hours. Roger cheered you on every time you entered a new level. You were deep into the game when a guy came out from a room calling out that the arcade was to close in fifteen minutes. You pouted to yourself as you let your character die in the game. 

“Come on,” Roger said. You followed Roger out of the arcade. 

“But I was enjoying myself.” 

“It’s called having fun,” he mumbled. You sighed heavily. 

“I thought you said we had a mission.” 

“We did.” 

“And?” 

“That was it.” You gave Roger a confused expression. 

“I don’t understand,” you said. Roger sighed as he stopped walking on the crowded sidewalk and turned to face you. 

“I’m sorry, J.J.,” he said solemnly.

“For what?” you asked.

“For what was taken from you.” 

“I don’t understand.” Roger felt tears well up in his eyes. He looked away and into the crowd. 

“Exactly,” Roger said heavily, looking over at you. “You had everything taken from you, and you don’t even realize what you missed out on.” Roger could tell by the look on your face that you still didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. “One day, you’ll understand what I’m speaking of, but for now, let’s go home.” You nod and walked beside Roger in the crowded sidewalk. 

“One thing,” you said, stopping again.

“Yeah?”

“Can we come back to the arcade?” you asked, eyes wide with hope. Roger chuckled. 

“Of course. Just don’t tell Z. He doesn’t quite understand the term fun.” 

“Maybe we can show him,” you mused, resuming your walk down the street. Roger shook his head. 

“Trust me, that won’t work.” 

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[what-the--curtains]

Braving the Elements

Chapter 15: Roman Defeated

Tw: Violence, Blood, Swearing

When you enter the facility

When the fight starts

A few days pass and with no activity on your monitors, you and Nat enter Romans cabin and remove any paper files marked as “Project X” from his office. You proceed to retrieve the surveillance cameras and pack up the truck to leave. You and Bucky hadn’t talked about the night you spent together. Neither of you knew why. You hoped he didn’t regret it, you knew you didn’t. You spend most of the ride home and most of the next day asleep, tired from the long shifts. Waking up at around 2pm you check your face in the mirror. The mark he'd left on your neck, the last bit of physical evidence of that night, has faded away. You make your way into the kitchen in sweatpants and a matching cropped sweater, hair done up in a bun. You find everyone else scattered between the kitchen and the living room. It seems like the missions went relatively smoothly, Roman hadn’t been at any of the houses. Though apparently Italy had had some problems based on the few bruises you can see on Sam and Clint's arms. Everyone’s managed to find the hard copies of the previously deleted files of which there were at least 60. At around 4PM you’re all called into the meeting room. Tony had sent copies of the files off to SHIELD in hopes that they would be able to piece them into a coherent report, but the originals were in the conference room spread across the long table. Taking a seat next to Wanda, you pick up a few of the files. You’re skimming through them when Shuri enters the room and pulls up a holographic of what appears to be the blueprints for some kind of fancy building.

“What is that?” you ask.

“That. Is what I found on one of those encrypted files you stole. It looks like it’s some kind of underground bunker.” she replies. “There’s two levels, the upper part seems to be various facilities, living rooms, gyms, bathrooms, etcetera, but the lower level is where they’re keeping the laboratories and medical bays.”

“Hidden in plain sight, allows him to do whatever he wants no questions asked.” You murmur.

“Do we know where it is?” Clint asks.

“Based on some shipment receipts we have a general idea, but we’ll need Sam to scan the area to get the proper locates. Now finding it should be easy enough, and since we have a floor plan of the facility we may even have an upper hand.” Tony explains.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever had the upper hand on Roman.” You state.

“You’re right we need to be prepared for anything.” Steve says.

“If we can bring him in alive, we could figure out where all the mutants in these files have gone.” Tony says, looking at you pointedly before repeating the word alive a decibel louder, but you’re not paying attention, you’ve noticed something in the files.

“There all alphas, looks like he’s even got some omegas.” you say skimming through the files

“They’re all what?” Vision asks, looking to Wanda for an explanation.

“The government classifies mutants into six general groups, epsilons,” Wanda starts

“Mutants with little to no powers but major physical presentation of the x-gene you’ll recognize them a mile away.” You explain.

“Deltas,” Wanda says, pausing in order to continue the back and forth exchange.

“Human presenting mutants with low level powers most of them don’t even know they have the gene. Asymptomatic carries if you will”

“Gammas”

“This is the base level of powerful mutants. They have powers yes, but they also have a distinct phenotypic presentation of the x-gene.” You see some of the people in the room looking confused “Phenotypic presentation meaning they present distinct physical traits. They’re often the most ostracized by you non-mutants. Think Beast, Mystic or Nightcrawler.” You clarify, unsure if the team knows who they are.

“Betas” Wanda continues.

“They’re just as powerful as Gamma’s, but they only have minor physical drawbacks, ones you won’t notice until you’re close up, like Wolverine, or Gambit.”

“Alphas,”

“Very powerful mutants with no phenotypic presentation of the gene some consider them to be the most dangerous because you can’t identify them, Wanda or myself, for example.” You smile at her.

“Then, then there’s omegas.” Wanda says

“These are mutants with the highest level of power. They’re also usually the ones with the hardest powers to control. The most dangerous of the alphas if you will. Jean, Magneto, Charles and Storm are all omegas, powerful ones.” You stop.

“So what does this mean? He’s gathering all the strongest mutants?” Sam asks.

“Looks that way.” Wanda says

“We’re going to need to take extra safety precautions. If they’re fighting with Roman they’ll be looking to kill, not wound, anyone who gets in there way” Tony says

“And what if they’re being held as prisoners?” Bucky asks, beating you to your own question.

“If they’re being held captive they may be angry, untrusting and ready to destroy anyone even if it's people looking to help.” You say “They’ll be scared and fear is dangerous, be careful when approaching them”

“Do we have any way of protecting ourselves?” Nat asks

“Yes,” Shuri pulls out a box with metal collars and a box of ammunition.

“These collars will ensure that whoever is wearing them has their powers disabled” she sees you give her a concerned look “just until we take them off I promise” she reassures. “Meanwhile, these are soaked with a heavy tranquilizer that knocks anyone out in seconds. I’ve hooked them up to best suit your weapons of choice.”

“How do we know it’ll knock out a mutant?” Peter asks.

“Well I tested it on my brother and it knocked him out for a good 5 hours, superpowers and all.” She says grinning from ear to ear causing you all to laugh.

Steve goes over the plans. “Alright troops, we’ll be proceeding into the building through the four main entrances as indicated on the map. We want to make sure that each team has at least one person trained in military combat leading the attack. So, Y/N you’ll go ahead with Wanda and Peter through the back entrance here. Myself and Tony will enter from the left, while Bucky and Sam will come up on the right. Nat, you’ll take Clint and Vision through the front. We’ll maneuver through our quadrants before meeting back here, at the center of the second level. From there we can continue our sweep of the building. Remember, we are not going in to kill, we need Roman alive in order to get information. Any prisoners are not to be harmed, you find them, you wait and Y/N and Wanda will go and make the call. Get your stuff together, we fly in 15.”

Throwing your arsenal into a bag and getting changed you make your way over to the jet.

You throw your duffel bag up to Sam, and he almost drops it underestimating how heavy it was going to be.

“Jesus what’s in here? A body?” he huffs.

“A lady never reveals her secrets” you say, placing your finger over your lips and making a shushing gesture causing Sam and Peter to giggle. You go to hoist yourself up but struggle as the jets entrance was higher off the ground than you had anticipated. Suddenly, two hands grab your waist and lift you up with familiar ease allowing you to reach Sam’s hand. He pulls you up asking you what’s got you all hot and bothered. You shoot him a death stare, leading him to lift his hands up as he walks away mumbling about how he was sorry for asking. You turn around and pull Bucky up “Didn’t think anything could fluster you.” he said quietly with a smile as he passes by, causing you to become even more flustered. What the hell was that all about? You think taking your seat next to Tony and clipping in your seatbelt.

“How was Russia?” Wanda asks while sitting with Visions arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Fucking cold.” you reply, not making eye contact with Bucky, Nat or Steve afraid you may reveal yourself “Next time Tony we’re pulling name outta a hat so you can’t rig it.” He laughs and the flight takes off

“So what can we expect with this guy Roman?” Peter inquires.

“Well he doesn’t fight fair that’s for sure, but he never does any of his own dirty work he likes to be kept clean I honestly think he’s a germaphobe but I digress. Lots of brutes, usually without superpowers unless bashing someone head in with a baseball bat counts as a power. I don’t know if he’ll even be there.” You say tightening the strap of the holsters around your thighs and clipping your arm bands into place.

The jet lands a few blocks away from the supposed site. It’s a ghost town, run-down buildings that have been partially destroyed, potholes, broken glass, overlapping graffiti on every surface. This wasn’t Romans usual extravagant taste. What was he up to? He always wanted his accomplishments to be on display. Why was he hiding this one?

“Sam, you see anything up there?” Tony asks.

“Scanning one sec. Alright we’ve got a hit, under the old movie theater by the looks of it.” He responds, landing next to you.

“Get into teams, let’s get this asshole.” Bucky says, loading up his machine gun with the knockout bullets Shuri had made. Before you split up he looks over to you,

“Don’t do anything stupid, lots of people here would miss you if you died.”

“Are you including yourself on that list?” you ask, as you load up your own gun. He walks behind you placing a hand on your waist and whispers “What the hell do you think.” Before walking off towards Sam.

You, Wanda and Peter enter from the back. You lead them through the maze of hallways wielding a machine gun checking left and right into any doorways. You knock out the guards with the tranquilizer bullets and once they’re down Peter webs them up to the wall, ensuring they won’t be going anywhere. No signs of any mutants yet. You reach a hallway that diverts off to the side. Holding up your fist you stop before motioning to your two teammates to continue up the hallway while you check it out. You're about to clear the hall when you feel something thwack you in the back of the head, you must have missed a door. You drop your gun and turn around to see none other than your old driver Calvin holding a pistol to your head.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this.” He smiles cocking the gun. Before he can pull the trigger a ball of light hits him in the back. You look up to see Wanda standing behind him. You grab your gun and she pulls you up “Old friend of yours?” she asks, while Peter webs up Calvin. You exit the hallway and continue down your path until you reach a door that none of you recognize from the blueprints. “Sam you there?” Wanda asks into the earpiece

“What’s up.” He whispers.

“Send us your scan of the building we’ve reached undocumented territory.”

Wanda pulls up the blueprints. “It looks like this leads to a lower level.”

“Alright, were going in.” you say

“Be careful. Once we're done we’ll head your way. Send us your current location.” Steve’s voice commands.

“Copy.” you respond. Lifting your gun you proceed down the narrow hallway, single file.

You turn the corner, another door, you open it quickly scanning the room for potential threats. You turn on the lights revealing a large empty room, lowering your weapon you take in your surroundings. Then, you hear a clatter and fog canisters roll out in front of you reducing your visibility now unable to see even a few feet in front of you. You hear a crash and see a burst of red light in the fog. “Wanda” you whisper yell “Peter?”. You don’t shoot at the noise, not wanting to hit your two friends. The fog slowly begins to lift revealing Wanda and Peter chained to the floor by their wrists. You bend over to try and break them, but you can’t.

“Look out!” Peter warns. You turn around to see a man, you recognize his face but couldn’t quite remember his name. You blink and then there's 15 of him, carbon copies encircling you.

“ What the…” you start before being interrupted by the echo of slow claps coming from behind the multiples.

“Together at last! How I’ve missed you my freak of nature” a familiar voice calls out

“Now Romy is that any way to speak to an old friend?” you say through gritted teeth, standing up to face him.

“Friends don’t burn down each other’s building, steal from them and kill their guards” he shouts

“Ouf well I guess friends don’t really own each other either?” you snap back.

“Agree to disagree.” he says, finally appearing behind the multiples, sending him? them? back out to guard the door. The 15 men turn back to 1 and exit the room.

“Why are you even here Romy? It’s not like you to do grunt work. And besides, you know you can’t beat me” You exclaim raising your gun and taking aim.

“Maybe not under the usual circumstances, but recently I’ve been feeling like I’ve turned over a new leaf” he says. A burst of light leaves his hands and hits you hard in the stomach knocking the wind out of you. You topple over dropping the gun as you fall.

“But you see your powers are useless here, no water, no fire, no earth in sight.” He continues, kicking down hard on your back, splaying you across the floor. “And my new powers allow me to use electrical energy as a weapon. Isn’t that just so fun!” he kicks the gun away from your reach and lifts your chin up with the tip of his shoe

“Impossible.” You mutter trying to understand what you had just seen, he wasn’t a mutant.

“Not when you know the right people.” he laughs.

“I didn’t miss a room, you gave Calvin powers as well, how?”

“All in good time, but for now you’re going to come with me or I’m going to kill your little friends here as well as all the others currently sweeping the upper levels.” He says as you push yourself off the floor.

“Alright go ahead,” you stand up and make your way over to the door, “see if I care. You obviously need me alive so i'm gonna walk right outta here unharmed”

“Guess you’re still only looking out for number one” he says following behind you

“Always have been” you say, grabbing the handle of the door. “Oh and Romy.” you turn to face him

“Yes darling?” He asks with a snarl.

“Are you really as stupid as you look?” you ask.

“What?” he scowls.

“Do you really think we showed up here without a backup plan?” You knock him down with a gust of air, as he hits the floor he yells for his guards. One tries to grab the door handle, but you ignite your arm bands and touch the knob scolding the man’s hand badly, you can smell the burnt flesh as you let go. Using the water converter technology installed into your suit by Shuri you throw water over the chains confining your two friends, freezing it as it hits the metal. You walk over whacking the chains with the butt of your gun causing them to shatter. You help them up. “Nice acting.” Wanda says rubbing her wrists “Seriously where’s your Oscar?” Peter asks. “Aww thanks guys, you know maybe I should quit my day job!” you start, but quickly realize you have bigger fish to fry as the multiplier and several others enter into the room.

Wanda knocks down three of them with a single blast as Peter works on taking down another two. You're squaring off against a guy who must have superhuman strength, based on his height and intense muscles. “You know there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, seriously what are you on steroids?” You shoot at him but he catches the bullet and crushes it proving your theory. You drop the gun and run at him. Sliding between his legs you jump on his back , pulling out your knife you jab it into his shoulder and he lets out a yelp of pain. At least you knew he could bleed. You manage to wrestle off his helmet, as he reaches around to pull you off, you bite him. This makes him even angrier. He grabs you off his back and throws you against the wall. He’s learning over you as you attempt to make a grab at a knife, he steps on your wrist lifting his foot he aims at your head, you brace for impact. All of a sudden you hear a gun fire and the guy turns to face the shooter, Bucky. The rest of the crew have arrived just in time to help with the other guards. While the muscle man starts towards the winter soldier you grab the knife on the floor and slash the guy's Achilles causing him to fall to the ground. “Thanks for that.” you say wiping the blood of your knife “Right back at you, I was 10 seconds away from being a pancake.” he smiles at you before shooting down two of the guards. It doesn’t take long for you guys to take the rest of them out. Roman’s started moving towards the door amidst the chaos but he doesn't get far before one of Clint's arrows hits him in the leg. Still trying to drag his body out of the room you walk over to him and lift up his head by his hair “You seriously thought you and your run of the mill abusers could take down a team of nine superheroes.”

“Hero? Is that what you think you are? Your hubris will be your downfall.” He says spitting in your face before passing out.

“You get your touch for the dramatic from him?” Sam chuckles.

“Did you know he had powers?” Peter asks, while Bucky lifts up Romans limp body.

“That’s the thing he didn’t use too. Wanda, did you see any doors in that hallway where Calvin tried to kill me?” You say wiping the spit off your face.

“Where who tried to do what to you?” Bucky asks loudly.

“No. You think he had them as well?” Wanda responds, ignoring Bucky’s concern. You shrug.

“So how did he...” Tony starts.

”I don’t know.” you shake your head in confusion. “Someone call Shuri. I have a feeling she’s the only one who can crack this.”

[yetanotherfanficblog]

Part

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Characters: Pyotyr Ilych (Male Duskwight Elezen Warrior of Light), Y’shtola Rhul

Rating/Warnings: PG (Mentions of Violence and Death)

Summary: Pyotyr considers the ramifications of the battle for the fate of the First, and the marks it has left upon his soul. Written for ffxiv write 2020 prompt #14. Spoilers for the Shadowbringers MSQ.

---

Pyotyr Ilych, Warrior of Darkness, had much to consider. The identity of the Crystal Exarch. The strange and wondrous sight of the ancient city of Amarout, and the combination of fear and of longing, and of mourning for something lost, or stolen, or forgotten, that suffused his chest when he remembered those tall spires. The last words of Hades, of Emet-Selch.

But for now, he focused on his hand, held above him, fingers splayed, as he leaned back in a chair at his kitchen table, in his quarters at the pendants. For a long moment, he held it there, staring at the back of those long, delicate, fingers as if the pattern of scrunched skin on his knuckles might unlock the secrets of creation.

He was only barely roused from his reverie by a knock at the door.

"Come In!" he called, still looking at his hand. The door opened to admit his fellow Scion, Y'shtola Rhul, lately known as Master Matoya of the Night's Blessed.

She looked at the Elezen splayed out on the chair before her, hand in the air, and cleared her throat delicately, "Are... you quite alright, Pyotyr?"

"Oh!" Pyotyr shook his head, as if snapped out of a dream into waking, he lowered his hand quickly, tugging his garments into places as he rose from his chair, "Y'shtola! Come in, Come in! What a pleasant surprise, I thought you were on your way back to Slitherbough!"

"I was planning to be," Y'shtola said, taking the proffered invitation and sweeping into the room, "But I decided I'd best stock up on certain reagents and research materials before I returned, and the markets won't have all of them ready until the morrow."

Pyotyr smiled, "So, one more day in the Crystarium, and you choose to spend a part of it with me? You honor me."

Y'shtola smiled back, with a bit of a sigh, "None of that, now, Pyotyr. You're one of my dearest friends, and I hadn't seen you in years, and only days ago, I thought we might lose you forever."

Pyotyr grinned, "But I am here, and feeling better than ever. Available to brew a potion, heal a wound, slay a monster, or discuss aetheric theory with a dear friend over a cup of tea. Shall I pour you one?" He walked breezily over to the stove, where a kettle had indeed just begun to pipe, and began bustling about grabbing a pair of cups and a small tin of tea leaves from a nearby cupboard.

"Tea sounds wonderful," Y'shtola said tentatively, sitting down at one of the small but sturdy wooden chairs at the kitchen table, smoothing her skirts, "but are you sure?"

"What, sure I want tea?" Pyotyr said, without looking back, focused on packing the leaves into their tea balls, "Of course I am. We've spent too many nights at the Rising Stones poring over old tomes together over a cup for you to doubt that, haven't we?"

"No," She said with a sigh, "Are you sure you're alright? You looked rather distracted when you came in."

Pyotyr turned, now carrying two cups of steaming hot beverage on a small platter, and he smiled a small sad smile as he bought them to the kitchen table, setting one in front of Y’shtola, taking the other in his hands as he sat down beside her.

"Hm," he mused, "I suppose that is a fair question. And a hard one to answer. I feel... physically fine. Without the weight of that extra aether, I feel as light as feather. Yet, I feel more solid, more real, than I ever have before. It... sounds strange, but I feel like there is more of me."

Y'shtola took a sip of her tea, a thoughtful look on her face, "More? Yes, your aether looks repaired, but also... stronger. More solid. I suppose in some ways, you are... more."

"But," she continued, "I have a feeling that isn't all there is to it, is there?"

Pyotyr took his own sip of tea, then nodded at her, "Your instincts have always been sharp, my dear Miss Y'shtola."

He let out a long breath, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing, "When I say I feel like there is more of me, I find myself... somewhat terrified at what that might mean."

"Terrified? You have always been one the bravest, most steadfast persons I know. I know people change, but I cannot forsee that changing about you too soon."

Pyotyr smiled softly, "You flatter me, Y'shtola. But.... no, for whatever I am, I will continue to be loyal to the Scions, a defender of Eorzea as long as people of good will inhabit her land. But... I am, or thought I was, Pyotyr Ilych, Son of Vylbrand, Scholar, Scion, Alchemist, Doctor, and Friend. It was all I ever aspired to be, even if the tides of war and fate have swept me up into larger things than I ever dreamed of as a Limsan street rat."

"Emet-Selch," he continued, after another sip of tea, "seemed to recognize me as someone. I'm still not sure if he wanted me to desperately be his old friend, or hated with all his might that I might be his old friend."

"The possibility of reincarnation has been considered by scholars and believed in by many societies over the years," Y'shtola said, "But most of them believe you are who you are in the present. No matter how you reincarnated, or if you reincarnted, you are still you."

"Perhaps," Pyotyr said, "But It is strange to know who else you might have been... who else you might be, when you never expected to be anyone else... and beyond that. Ardbert."

"He was a part of you," Y'shtola said, a small acknowledgement, a nod of the head.

"Yes. My shard, my counterpart, here on the First. Whoever Emet-Selch recognized, we were both parts of him. And now Ardbert is part of me. Our souls are rejoined, parts of the person who Emet-Selch used to know."

Pyotyr drained the rest of his teacup before continuing, "And now I wonder. Where does he end and I begin? Shall I find myself possessed of that bravado? Of that desperation? Shall memories and thoughts of Braden and Lamitt and Renda-Rae and Nyelbert crowd out memories of Alphinaud and Y'shtola and Thancred and Urianger and Alisaie? And what of the person Emet-Selch knew? Now that I am closer to that person, now that I have come closer to what the Ancients were, what the Ascians are... shall I find myself forgetting myself and Ardbert alike? Will I be seized with a dangerous nostalgia for a past world? Shall I find myself wandering ruins of the past in anger and lust? Emet-Selch asked me to remember, Ardbert and his comrades deserve to be remembered as the heroes they were, and I want to. I want to remember them. I want to remember them. But I want to remember ME, too. How can I make sure I still remember me, that I am still Pyotyr, when I have had so many other people thrust upon me now?"

His hands dropped to his knees, and his face dropped with them, just a bit, as if he might be trying to hide his eyes, and he fell silent again.

Y'shtola closed her eyes for a moment, sighed, then opened then. She leaned across the space between them, and placed a hand over Pyotyr's right hand, then scooped it up gently with the other, cradling it between her palms.

"I have watched your aether closely ever since we reunited," she said, "And I watched it even back on Eorzea, before the Exarch's summons took me. I know you, Pyotyr Ilych, not just as a beloved friend, but on a very elemental level. Ever since you were able to harness the light against Hades, you have been exactly as I remember from Eorzea, only more so."

"More so...?" Pyotyr raised his chin a bit, to look at her with shining eyes.

"Your pattern shines bright against the gaps, but it always has. And it has always been your pattern. Whoever you used to be, whoever you have been joined to. Your journey has tempered you in its own way. You have gained strength. You have gained comrades. You have gained wounds and healed wounds alike. But you have always shown the qualities that shine brightest in you, the compassion, the bravery, the will to fight to protect the weak. In all those ways, You are still  the man I met so long ago, in the Grotto near Summerford Farms."

Pyotyr chuckled at that, "I remember it well. Your little history lesson on the Sailor's Requiem made me feel like I was back in school, then helped me defeat that poor goobbue, then handed me a knife, spoke a few cryptic words, and left me standing there, mouth agape."

Y'shtola smiled back, "See? Just as a sweet and sassy as you ever were, Pyotyr Ilych. And in my defense, I did come back for you."

Pyotyr chuckled, "And swept me up into a world I never imagined. All because I wanted to know why some of my old shipmates had been kidnapped. Despite such strange beginnings, I can't say I would have traded any of it for the world. Thank you, My Mysterious Cultured Conjurer, for noticing such an unlikely adventurer."

Y'shtola chuckled herself at that, and squeezed Pyotyr's hand, "Unlikely or no, I can't imagine anything up until now would have gone as well as it has without you. Whatever else happens, you are still a Scion. We will be besides you, and we will always remind you of who you are: Our hero, our exemplar, and most importantly, our Beloved friend."

Pyotyr now smiled, a true, unguarded grin, as he squeezed Y'shtola's hand back in return, "Alright. You've convinced me. I'll put aside my worries, at least for now. But... I think it will be a few hours before I feel like going to bed. Would you perhaps, stay with me, My dear Miss Y'shtola? We can talk of old times, or you can tell me stories of your time here in the First."

"I can think of no better way to pass the time, my dear old friend," Y'shtola answered back.

And so they sat, the two friends, the two veterans, speaking of all the adventures they had been a part of, past and present, and even into the future, long into the night.

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

The Bodyguard - Chapter 2

Summary: Magnus is a dancing popstar sensation whose popularity continues to climb. Alec, an ex-Secret Service agent, is hired on as a professional bodyguard in charge of Mr. Bane’s personal security by insistence of Magnus’ manager. Despite their initial differences, Magnus finds himself falling for Alec the more time they spend getting to know each other and relies on him for more than physical security as his safety gets threatened. Loosely based on the 1992 film The Bodyguard.

Rating: M

Genre: AU, Everyone is Human AU, Celebrity!Magnus, Bodyguard!Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining

Author: holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight

A/N: Thanks for reading and the feedback so far! For this chapter - mild trigger warning for a forced-on kiss - female to male. It does not last long, but please be mindful if you are sensitive to this type of situation.

Read on AO3. 

Previous chapters on tumblr: Prologue // Chapter 1

"Is this really necessary, Alexander?"

Alec grumbled under his breath at the use of his full name, not bothering to correct the star anymore. He clearly enjoyed pushing his buttons, so giving in and showing how much it annoyed him was only fueling the fire.

It was only two weeks into the tour, and Alec's prediction that he'd be met with resistance on his plans to keep Magnus safe from the one in question was proving true.

He liked to do a full sweep of every venue prior to letting Magnus roam free. Especially since it was clear Magnus had no regard for personal safety.

Alec continued his patrol, withholding the sigh he longed to release. "Yes, Mr. Bane. I take my job seriously."

"Is there anything you don't take seriously?" Magnus drawled, examining his nails. "I need to get started on my pre-show prep so I'll be ready in time for dress rehearsal. Are you almost done deactivating the bombs at least?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "You know, just because you think you're invincible and everyone worships you, doesn't mean you're right."

"Whatever. Can we hurry this up? I'm starving."

Alec chose not to respond, instead speaking into his wire. "Are we clear?"

"All set. Set him free." Raj chuckled, knowing the impatience of the pop star.

He turned to Magnus. "We're clear."

"Finally." Magnus complained, heading towards his assigned dressing room with his prep team in tow.

Alec followed and leaned against the wall outside of his room, pulling out the mini tablet he had. He opened up the venue map and checked each of his staff's positioning.

Magnus may not outwardly appreciate his efforts, but Alec wasn't going to let that weaken his meticulous professionalism. He had been hired to keep the man safe, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Magnus let his team do their work, trying not to think about the tall man outside of his dressing room acting like he was going to be tackled at any moment.

He knew Raphael had his reasons for hiring Alec, but he had mostly been a giant pain in his ass. Magnus had not taken well to the modifications done to his home or that the Lightwood man seemed to be the bossiest person on the planet.

He remembered when he came home from a day of shopping to find his house transformed from when he last left it.

"Why are there bars on my windows?! What is this, Alcatraz?!"

Alec inhaled slowly. "Mr. Bane, we will be taking every precaution to keep you safe. That means your home needed some changes."

"This is ridiculous! RAPH!"

Raphael came back into the room, hanging up the phone. "Listen to Mr. Lightwood, Magnus. He knows what he's doing."

"I don't care! I should not need a damn retina scan to enter the front door!"

Alec didn't speak to his over-exaggeration, instead forcing his voice into a steady calm. "Mr. Bane… we've added extra security measures for a reason. The fact that you haven't had more issues with break-ins and over-enthused fans is shocking. Your social media is littered with ways for your fans to track you to this address. You had no security or surveillance system in place, your windows were a completely accessible entry point, and you had so many people running around, anyone could slip in, especially without any proper screening process at your front door."

Magnus had pitched a celebrity-level temper tantrum but Alec didn't budge. It was clear Magnus wasn't getting through to him, so he reluctantly let him continue to run the show and got used to not having his way. Even though he didn't usually keep his mouth shut about it.

After that, Magnus gave up on arguing about it, since even Raphael wasn't sympathetic to him. He made sure to be home for the next set of changes, and that he pushed Alec's buttons at every opportunity during the process.

Still, despite Alec's irritating ways, he knew his heart was in the right place. He may be a hired gun of sorts but the changes did make Magnus start to think about what he was doing. Sometimes, when he was about to post something to social media, he'd now review it. Even going so far to crop certain parts out or blur them to make it a little more secure.

He'd never tell Alec that, of course. He could just picture the smug look on the tall man's face.

Still, annoying though he may be, he at least was easy on the eyes. And Magnus very much enjoyed riling him up at every opportunity. His buttons were so very easy to push. Flirting openly with him was especially rewarding, as it usually caused his porcelain skin to change to a lovely pink hue.

A knock on the door made Magnus look up from watching Meliorn work on his make-up.

Alec's voice came through the closed door. "Mr. Bane, there's a Camille Belcourt here to see you. She says you're old friends. Do you have time to see her or should I get Raphael to set up a time tomorrow?"

Magnus swallowed, the few of his team members who knew his past well looking awkward, and he forced a smile. "I'll be all right. You guys go take a break. Get some nourishment. I'll handle Camille."

"One of us can stay…?"

He shook his head, waving them off. "Go. I'll find out what she wants and then send her on her way."

The group of them left, and Magnus turned in his chair. "Let her in, Alec."

The door opened and the tall brunette entered, a wicked smirk on her lips.

"Magnus. It's been too long."

Alec met Magnus' eyes, and Magnus gave a subtle nod, confirming that she was who she said she was. Alec closed the door behind the pair.

"Camille. What brings you to my dressing room?"

She waltzed over to him in what she probably assumed was a seductive manner, but Magnus wasn't buying it. "Aww, can't I stop by? Or was that privilege revoked when we broke up?"

"You mean when you cheated on me with your agent for nearly a year and then got caught?" Magnus replied coldly.

She pouted. "Still holding a grudge I see."

Magnus crossed his arms, huffing out a breath. "Yeah, I'm stubborn like that, I guess."

"Oh, Magnus. I know we both made mistakes…"

"Some more than others." he interjected bitterly.

"… but I was hoping we could catch up. Reconnect. It's been too long."

"Is this because I got invited to that big award show next week? Are you thinking I'll take you and get you some spotlight time?"

"Now that is a wonderful idea! I could make myself available…"

Magnus sighed. "Camille, just because your modelling career has hit a plateau, it isn't a reason for you to try to manipulate me into letting you back into my life."

Camille stepped closer, looping her arms around his neck, her eyelashes fluttering over her green eyes in an attempt to be sultry. "Magnus, I miss you. We had something good for so long. And your fans love us together. Please? Just think about it. What me and you together could mean… How much fun we had… I know you remember that." she taunted, leaning into him further.

Before he could reply, Camille had backed him against the vanity table and grabbed his face in her hands to kiss him eagerly.

Magnus lost his balance, arms flailing as he fell backwards, before he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her off of him, hard.

"Camille! Don't—!"

But she was forcing herself on him again, her tongue invading his mouth, and before he could do something like bite down on it to get her off, she was wrenched away.

"I believe Mr. Bane told you no." a low voice growled, and Magnus looked up as he wiped his mouth to see Alec with a tight grip around Camille's wrist.

She was dead silent, eyes wide at the dangerous tone, and Alec dragged her by the arm to the door with little to no remorse.

"You've overstayed your welcome, Miss Belcourt. Mr. Garroway will escort you out. And you will not be welcomed back on my watch."

Camille shot a glare back at Magnus before letting an angry Luke direct her outside.

Magnus was speechless, chest rising and falling. He didn't know what to say. Alec looked furious, like he was ready to punch a hole in the wall, and Magnus hadn't seen him in such a state before. He was normally quite pulled together.

"Are you all right?" Alec finally asked.

Magnus managed to find words, hugging his middle and watching the floor instead of meeting his bodyguard's eyes. "Fine. Um… thanks."

Alec nodded. "I apologize for barging in. I promise I wasn't eavesdropping, but I heard you cry out and well…"

Magnus nodded, not lifting his gaze. He felt mortified, not really sure how to talk to him now. He was always giving Alec a hard time about his extensive measures, and, still, at the first sign of Magnus' lack of safety, he was swooping in to his rescue. It was his job, he supposed, but Magnus could've handled it himself too.

Alec took a step closer, eyes roaming over Magnus' form. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Magnus shook his head. "No, no, I'm okay. Just… humiliated." he muttered under his breath.

Alec crossed the distance between them then, reaching a hand out to cup Magnus' face so he'd look at him. He lowered himself slightly so he was at eye-level.

"Hey. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?"

"Well, for starters, I let her in here despite my better judgment."

"You just have a good, trusting heart. Sometimes, those that know it, take advantage of it. Especially when they're a person like Camille. But that isn't your fault, okay? I know I've preached taking more precautions about your safety since the second we met—"

"And you were right! I mean, even my hair and make-up team know Camille is bad news, and yet I still let her in this room alone with me."

Alec smiled softly at him, and Magnus found himself mesmerized by the sight.

"You want to see the best in people. That's not something to be ashamed of. But you also mean a lot to a lot of people, and your personal safety is important to honour too."

"I know. I'll try to be less… difficult about it."

Alec laughed, and Magnus couldn't help but break into a grin at the sound. That was new.

"It hasn't hindered me doing my job yet, has it?"

"True."

Alec rolled his eyes amusedly. "All right. I'll send your team back in. Dress rehearsal is in fifteen minutes and you still need a lot of work…"

"Hey!"

Alec grinned over his shoulder at him, and Magnus chewed his tongue as he tried not to laugh, unable to believe that Alec Lightwood had just made a joke.

But then his hair and make-up team returned with snacks and drinks for him, and Magnus was distracted with soothing their concerns that Camille was long gone.

He didn't share what had gone down during their absence, but they didn't look too worried. He figured that was because of the oddly giddy look on his face that Alec had imprinted on him before he left.

The show was a great success, as always. Magnus shone as bright as he always did in front of a huge crowd, every move he made followed by thousands of eyes and screaming cheers.

Alec directed the security that lined the stage as well as those that kept things clear backstage. He himself watched Magnus from the sidelines, always scanning the crowd for any signs of potential danger.

Thankfully, it was another uneventful night for danger and Magnus quickly cleaned himself up to go do the usual meet-and-greet outside for those lingering around.

Alec dutifully followed, the fan interaction always his most dreaded part of the evening. It was much harder to keep track of everyone and everything when they all were in such close quarters, desperate to get a handful of the star.

But he knew it was extremely important to Magnus and the fans and that it wasn't going anywhere any time soon, so he sucked it up and stayed tight to Magnus' side.

It was much harder to keep things organized when there were people leaping at Magnus and excitedly hugging him and reaching in their coats for their phones. These days, autographs were a thing of the past, so bulky phones came out for the two hundred selfies Magnus would take with his idolizers.

Still, it was hard not to smile seeing the way people would light up like all their dreams came true when Magnus gave them his undivided attention.

Magnus had a way with his fans—he maintained total eye contact, smiled so wide his eyes sparkled, and he listened to every word they said like they were telling him the most important thing he'd ever hear. He joined them in retelling of stories of his, became completely animated in his responses, and generally charmed them even more than they were already.

Each fan would leave, giggling with their companions and sifting through the many selfies he took with them to find the first one they'd post, and Magnus would embrace the next just as whole-heartedly and full of love as the last.

Even Alec couldn't help his entertainment watching the interactions, but he stayed watchful, making sure not to miss a beat.

Finally, things wrapped up and they headed back inside the venue to gather Magnus' things before heading to the local hotel. They'd leave for the next city in the morning.

"Well, tonight was a definite win for the books. I can't wait to lounge in a ridiculous-sized tub and then sleep with eighteen pillows." Magnus was babbling as they headed through the halls.

Alec tried to keep the amusement off his face but it was a hard feat. Working for Magnus was definitely a change of pace from his previous work.

Magnus led the way down the hall, rambling on about all the perks of getting the best suites at hotels and where his best stays were. It wasn't until he opened the door to his dressing room so he could gather the last of his belongings that he went silent.

Alec saw the blood drain from his face, his posture suddenly rigid, and he instinctively cut in front of him to barricade him from whatever horror he was facing.

The vanity mirror was covered in a series of polaroids, all taped in an arrangement. Alec stepped in the room further to get a closer look, but it was clear what the pattern was spelling out.

YOU'RE MINE

His eyes narrowed as he looked over the pictures. Most seemed to be candid shots—captured moments of Magnus walking down the street, stopping at cafes, even some from him around the house through what had to be his windows. Him rehearsing, eating dinner, even a couple where he was asleep on the couch.

"What the FUCK is THIS?!" Magnus finally said. Although he obviously meant to sound more malicious, it mostly came out hoarse from fear.

Alec pulled out his phone and started taking pictures immediately. He was trying to control the growing anger in the pit of his stomach. He had security staff everywhere. How had this person gotten in here?

Raphael had come by to see what the hold up was, as the car was waiting outside for them to go, and the smile melted right off of his face like candle wax.

"Do you want to tell him or should I?" Alec asked the silent man, his irritation not masked in the slightest.

"YOU knew about… about…. Whatever the hell THIS is?!" Magnus demanded, rounding on him now that he had a target.

Alec raised a hand in surrender and kept his cool. "Let's talk at the hotel. I'm going to get the police here to do a sweep in case there are any answers. And I'll need to speak to the director of this place to see if there is any surveillance near this room that might help us narrow this person down." He gestured at Luke. "Luke, please escort Mr. Bane outside and do not leave his side for a moment. Do a sweep of the car before getting in it too."

Magnus huffed and stormed away, looking hurt and betrayed, and Alec tried not to let it bother him. He knew his response was entirely valid. Alec had urged Raphael on multiple occasions to tell Magnus, to warn him so things wouldn't come as such a shock and so he could be more wary, but Raphael feared making Magnus paranoid for no reason.

After all, until tonight, they had only received a couple of ransom-like letters in the mail. It could've been a prank. And once Alec was hired on, nothing else came. Obviously the manager had hoped it was over and he wouldn't have to worry the star, but Alec knew obsessions like these rarely faded on their own.

Alec hoped that one good thing would come out of the display left for them tonight—there would be something useful found to track the person down and end things before they got worse.

Of course, luck would have it that things wouldn't be that easy.

The police came and went, promising to call if any evidence lead to something, but Alec could tell by the looks in their eyes they weren't too hopeful. After all, so many people had been in and out of that room that night. And if, god forbid, it was someone on Magnus' team doing such things, it would be virtually impossible to pin it on them from their DNA being at the scene alone.

Naturally, the surveillance stopped shortly before reaching Magnus' dressing room, so they didn't have much to go on there. It was designed to capture where regular guests frequented, rather than more of the backstage situations, due to privacy. Many stars ended up undressing and redressing backstage or in the hallways—to avoid lawsuits or uncodely conduct, they limited the survaillence in those areas during show nights.

Defeated, Alec headed to the hotel to meet with a furious Magnus and hopefully smooth things over.

By the time he arrived, it looked as though Raphael had explained everything—how long ago things started, the few notes they received and what they looked like, and how, despite taking things to the police, nothing had really come of it yet. It was why Raphael had wanted better security during the tour, hence his hiring of Alec.

Alec entered the room quietly, standing with his hands behind his back in a soldier's stance as Magnus paced back and forth in front of a forlorn Raphael.

"So this has been going on for months and you just decided it was better I didn't know?!"

"I worried about making you paranoid, affecting your comfort on stage and with fans… If it was just a harmless prank or something to rattle you with no real intention of going further, it seemed cruel to burden you with it…" Raphael explained, looking at the shag rug with his head hung.

"And what about you? What's your excuse?" Magnus snapped at Alec.

He exhaled slowly. "I would've told you myself, but I figured you'd assume I was making it up in order to make you more compliant with the changes I implemented. I wanted you to trust me as your head of security and was worried you'd rebel even further against the new things in place if I gave you a reason to."

Magnus grumbled under his breath. "Damn."

Alec raised one eyebrow in question.

"You're probably right. I wouldn't have believed you. I guess I needed to see it for myself."

Magnus straightened up from his moping position and crossed his arms.

"So… now that everything is in the open, what comes next? Should we… should we be cancelling the tour?"

Alec noticed he was looking at him now; normally he'd go through Raphael first, but he supposed he could understand why he was a little less forgiving of the man he'd known for many years keeping secrets.

"Well, truth be told, no. I think, with stalkers of this nature, the more you keep moving the better. Now, of course, with a music tour such as yours, all of your dates and venues are posted. But if those pictures tonight are anything to go by, they know where you live. I'd feel better knowing they don't know where you're sleeping each night, as your hotel stays are private. And I will continue to make sure we have maximum security at each venue. In fact, I may double it if the police don't give us anything substantial from their findings tonight."

Magnus nodded. He seemed to accept Alec's input on the subject.

"Also, the last thing we want to give this person is the attention from you they're craving. So not a word of this to anyone, okay? All we need is the media getting wind of it and it'll explode. Not even anything cryptic on social media that could allude to the situation we're dealing with. Attention and the spotlight on them is exactly what this person wants. We don't want them to know they've gotten to you."

"But they have." Magnus muttered.

"I signed on to be your personal bodyguard, Mr. Bane. I'm good at what I do. You don't have anything to worry about as long as I'm nearby."

"Good." Magnus said, nodding. "In that case, Raphael… I want you to call our next series of hotels. Make sure I am booked in a suite with a double bedroom. I want Alexander staying in the next room for the rest of the tour."

Alec's eyes widened but he didn't say anything.

Raphael nodded quickly, pulling out his phone to get started. Alec figured he'd do anything to get back into Magnus' good graces.

"For tonight, Alexander, you have your own room and I'll stick to just having a hired gun outside my door. You better enjoy it while it lasts because I'll warn you… I'm a bathroom hog." Magnus said, a sly smile on the corner of his lips before he headed into his en-suite.

Alec swallowed, not really sure what to make of the new arrangements, but unable to deny that his job was continuing to get more interesting.

Continue to  Chapter 3

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon FireRed Nuzlocke [Part 13]

Once again back at the Bill Gaiden, we continue our quest to beat the game without any grinding.

The current take on this problem is to focus on only three members of the team in the final chapter. Plus prayer and possibly lots of X items I haven’t bought yet.

I believe in you, my precious team.

...Sort of.

On whatever route I’m on, a Persian shows up. I guess I will try to catch it.

I did catch it.

Its name is Oak.

Rock Smash get, and Oak is gonna learn it for us. As our last real run taught us, Krabby is the best for HMs. Nom nom.

Sap is handling all of the Fighting trainers on this first island here. Seems prudent, given the choices involved. Plus my expectations of Sap. Sap has, by far, the largest role in my eventual plans. My child. You must take your amazing moves. Use them. And sweep all the things.

My Mt. Ember option is a Fearow, and I just can’t. I have two things that aren’t a Master Ball, I think. Sorry, Fearow. We were not meant to be.

Except Trunk can’t run from you. So I might be considering catching you.

Aha, flee accepted.

These are still dopey names.

-sigh- I tried to skip into Three Island, but it looks like you have to talk to NPCs to hit off the Biker Gang part of the Bill Gaiden. This run, having been a shrine to defeatism, didn’t bother with talking with most everyone. The cost is island hopping. Much sad. Very annoy.

“I am a video game character and my child is missing. Her name

is Lostelle.”

Video games are good.

Okay, Biker Gang subplot. Give me my exp.

GIVE ME MY EXP IN A LESS TRAUMATIZING FASHION POR FAVOR.

Later on the island, we are in the berry forest and encounter a Psyduck. With luck, it will be our box friend in the very near future.

Caught! Its name is Oak.

Don’t worry, little girl. I am the protagonist. I will save you.

By running away from the wild Hypno. Because that’s what heroes do.

Kid returned, and I think that means. I think I get to go fight Giovanni’s Gym.

Delightful.

Oak is level 50, Trunk and Sap are both 49. Bark, should she be required, is level 47.

Not a bad place to be in. Not close enough to feeling safe, but I think this has the potential to go better than Heero’s term.

Final badge. Let’s go. For added fun, I won’t even follow my map of the trainers inside the Gym. I’ll just go by guessing based on the trainer type.

Oak is level 52, Sap and Trunk are level 50. Good show, guys.

Aaaaaaand final badge! Magnificent.

Rival, Victory Road, then Elite Four, right?

That sounds doable?

Please?

I’m going to miss not having an Electric type available for the Pidgeot. And for the Gyarados. Acorn, Zaft. Your presence would be so valuable here.

I think I’m going to put Oak in front for that. Rival has enough to respond to Oak that any Sand Attacks can be swapped out. Wanting Oak for two fights in a row probably won’t happen. Hopefully.

My amusement is slowly being replaced by existential dread.

Oh, neat. The Pidgeot goes for Wing Attack instead of the awful sand. Thank you, Rival-san’s Pidgeot. I hate you and everything, but you’re a class act.

Trunk goes in for the Venusaur. It of level 53.

We get through.

I’ll actually send Sap out to (hopefully) handle the Gyarados.

Oak back in for the Alakazam. Stays in for the Growlithe.

Bloodless victory.

Hell, though. That is not a confidence boost. The levels keep reminding me how tight this really is, and I’m very short on Type variety. I know my main strategy, which I didn’t use here, is going to be massively setting up before anything else, but aaaaaaaaa.

I don’t want to go through all of this again. I’m not good enough at the game to reliably improve.

On the side of things I can do, I’m going to teach Trunk Earthquake.

And it looks very much like it makes sense for Oak to learn Ice Beam. He still has Tackle, for crying out loud. There’s room for improvement. The only problem is that hey, I still want Shadow Ball for Trunk, and guess what other TM is also a Game Corner thing?

In the spirit of bad things not happening maybe, I’m going to grab those TMs before Victory Road. No point limiting myself. I am also going to look up if I can get the Amulet coin and make some extra money, because the money situation ended up making me sad by the end of Heero and friends.

...

To. the slots.

I need 8500 coins.

Sigh.

SIGH.

170,000, is it?

Actual depiction of life’s traumas.

If I want to mess with their moves some more, I’ll do it after Victory Road. For now, this works.

Welp, no Amulet Coin for me.

There isn’t going to be much typing from here on out. Just picture a lot of screaming and crying. Because that’s pretty much what’s going on behind the scenes.

...Also I’m going to use Max Repels and the Master Ball on anything I come across. For maximum chance.

The Repel strat didn’t work out.

So I throw my Master Ball at a Machop.

Its name is Oak.

And every single time I leave the cave to heal, the switches require me to repeat their process. They fill me with hate. The smaller my team gets, the more often I have to head back to a Pokemon Center for PP aid.

BUT WE MAKE IT.

...

.

Fuck.

What do ya think?

I’m about to spend all my cash, so this is my last chance for move decisions.

I usually like something to know Toxic. Oak’s the best candidate for that in terms of an incomplete moveset, but I have a Dragon Claw TM that has similar value and can’t be wasted on Trunk or Sap.

I think this works, honestly. Oak for all things turtle, Sap for all things stall, and Trunk for miscellaneous everything. I can adjust after each one I beat. I have some interesting TMs I can play with, but for now, I think this is good.

What I need to think through is what X items I want. Then the rest goes into Full Restores. ...Oh. The X items are cheap, so I just buy a bunch without thinking it through.

Yep.

Elite Four.

Grindlocke, Take 2.

Okay, looking back over my records, I think I’m going to teach Trunk Brick Break over Yawn, use an X Attack, and go for the sweep.

Last chance to back out.

I hate this.

Two X Attacks, because I’m greedy. Dewgong down. It’s now Hailing. Have fun countering, Leftovers.

The Cloyster gets to the red with one Brick Break. Lorelei uses a Full Restore. Many stall tactics later, the Cloyster is downed with not much more of a mark on Trunk.

Slowbro next, but Shadow Ball should make that work. The hail stops, too, which is nice.

Yeesh, these things have high Defense. Slowbro’s in the red, uses Surf. Trunk is still green, but nearing half steadily. One more Shadow Ball, and the Slowbro’s gone. No Full Restore for it.

Lapras.

Brick Break puts it in the red, but it has a Sitrus Berry. I probably knew that from last time, but we’re really all about living in the moment, this run.

Lapras leaves Trunk in the high orange, but it’s out. Just the Jynx left. Going to spend a turn on a Potion just to keep things stable, then a Shadow Ball should mark the end of this.

And now Trunk is in love with it. In between being put to sleep.

...Okay, fuck you, game. What is Lovely Kiss’ accuracy?

..

75????

AND THEN TRUNK WAS FROZEN.

I knew these fights would be a bit of a stall game.

It wasn’t supposed to be in this direction.

LOVELY KISS CAN’T KEEP FUCKING HITTING YOU FUCKING AAAAAGH.

This Jynx is going to run out of Ice Punch PP before I get a hit in.

Oh thank fuck.

Would you look at that. It’s dead.

Oak’s going to be first for Bruno’s Onix, so Oak gets a Sitrus Berry for luck. Trunk’s healed back to full HP, and. Round two, get ready.

I gotta say, after everything I just went to, the sight of that Onix is a damn relief.

Only with that dealt with, the Hitmonchan’s prepped to come out.

Sap’s up. Because this is going to take a bunch of switching, I think I’ll try to stick with straight Sludge Bombing for as long as I can. Sap’s got a better Attack stat than Trunk at the moment (I think), so it shouldn’t be too rough.

Yeah, one Sludge Bomb puts Hitmonchan practically in the red, and Sky Uppercut doesn’t move Sap anywhere near orange.

?

Hello.

Bruno took out Hitmonchan to put in Onix.

Yeah. Switching. Oak, you’re up again.

Bye, Onix. And I’m going to leave Oak in to mop up the Hitmonchan to conserve PP. Bruno Full Restores it, but Surf puts it in the orange, so... eh, good enough. Oak takes an extra hit, but Oak’s time in this room is up anyway.

Hitmonlee.

Uh oh.

Also, bullshit, I had just used Minimize and Mega Kick’s accuracy sucks starting out, but. primarily. uh oh.

Ummmmmm.

Bad news, Oak.

I am so sorry.

Yeah, so Oak died, and now Oak is out at full health.

X Defend time.

OH SO NOW MEGA KICK CAN MISS, HUH.

Throw an X Special on the pile.

Oak uses up his Sitrus Berry, Bruno uses another Full Restore.

Hitmonlee goes down after far too long, and the Machamp comes out to play.

Surf gets it to deep orange. I’m going to use a Full Restore to be careful.

That there is a partially happy sight.

This, on the other hand...

Sap, I can give you a proper sendoff later, when my brain is doing something besides screaming. Suffice to say, you did nothing wrong, and this game hates me. Thanks for the fun, sorry you didn’t get to live longer or for your entire purpose.

I’m also looting your corpse for your Leftovers for Oak.

So Agatha’s next, right?

I finally get to see what a Snorlax with Shadow Ball can do about that.

I’m very much hoping the answer is, “something.”

Let’s dance, grandma.

First out is a level 54 Gengar. It knows Double Team, because this game really doesn’t actually want me to be happy. But Shadow Ball hits and gets it into the red. Agatha uses a Full Restore, and the next Shadow Ball actually hits too.

And now Trunk is confused.

Trunk.

Buddy.

Stop hitting yourself.

Fantastic, he does.

...Agatha has a Golbat? Ew. It’s level 54 too. It faints semi-easily, and then there was a level 56 Arbok. I’m just gonna spend a second on an X Attack, don’t mind me... Then a Full Restore so Trunk doesn’t fucking die...

Problems. We have them.

The level 58 Gengar coming out does not solve enough of them. Or any. It’s pretty much universally bad, actually.

That sound you hear is the snap of my fragile, innocent, sanity. I use a couple of X Defends instead of waking Trunk up. Then health becomes a slight issue, so you know what, Full Restore time!

Okay, great! Second Gengar dead! All that’s left is a level 53 Haunter. For. Reasons of who knows.

Okay.

I have never used the Poke Flute this much in my life.

And then it uses Hypnosis again, and it hits, again, and we do the whole dance over again, as you do.

IN A STUNNING TURN OF EVENTS, HAUNTER CURSING ME PUTS AN END TO ITS FUCKING CURSE, AND EVERYTHING IS IMMEDIATELY BETTER.

NO ONE ASKED YOU, YOU DAMN OLD LADY. YOU AREN’T A GENKAI. YOU’RE NOT EVEN CLOSE TO A GENKAI. FUCK YOU.

Hell, let me think.

Lance.

Dragons.

He has... two Dragonites, one Dragonair, a Charizard, and an Aerodactyl? Maybe?

I’m not banned from looking things up, but it hasn’t felt sporting to check up ahead of time. And no matter what, I think the best strategy I have here is to throw Oak in, toss on a ton of X Defends, and pray. So it doesn’t really matter what he has.

But Oak’s learning Toxic.

As a kid, I always thought Lance was just the coolest. Lance is a bitching name, and he has a dragon theme, and then he has a fucking cape. Top ten video game heroes.

As an adult, I hate Lance so much. Even the dope cape can’t spare him.

Oh hey, it’s a level 56 Gyarados. With my favorite move. Dragon Rage. That’s actually great, and it should feel free to keep using it. Dragon Rage doesn’t get critical hits. Yeah, actually, this is perfect. I’m just going to stack Oak with everything and not switch.

All of Dragon Rage’s PP later, Toxic can’t hit anything apparently, and it’s a contest of Biting. Cute.

THEN IT USES HYPER BEAM AND THE HYPER BEAM, NATURALLY, GETS A CRITICAL HIT, AND OAK HAS 15 HP AS HE LANDS THE FINAL BITE TO KILL THE FUCKER.

...Well. The poison kills it. But the feeling is there.

Look, there’s the Dragonair.

Look, it’s using Outrage.

Look, Outrage got a critical hit.

Look, it’s me crying from sheer stress.

Look, it’s the miracle of me getting a critical hit for once. It dies.

...Then out comes a second Dragonair.

Level 54s, btw. I forgot. Too many other horrible things were going on.

Oak takes that one out too, then it’s the Dragonite.

I think you just need to not die, Oak.

That works.

Aerodactyl last. Level 58.

Surf gets it.

Hate you so much, Lance.

I think the main problem here is that if I open with Oak, the Venusaur pops out, and any preparation I do during the Pidgeot round will vanish. That makes Trunk that more appealing option for an opener.

Pidgeot, Gyarados, Arcanine, Alakazam, Rhydon (?), Venusaur.

If it wouldn’t mean the Venusaur coming out, I’d just let Oak handle everything. Maybe I ought to do that anyway, and just accept that I’ll be bleeding more X Defends than I want in this fight.

Actually, wait.

Okay, no... I don’t think that’s a good move. I was thinking I could teach Oak Calm Mind for some extra boosting, and it’s not a bad thought, but.

...Actually, yeah?

Gyarados and Arcanine both have Intimidate, but Oak has Special Attack as its primaries. If I use up some X Defends on the Pidgeot to leave room for Calm Mind... the only problem would be if the Pidgeot has Whirlwind. But if it did, that would be a separate issue anyway. I can’t smash through without setup.

Max Calm Minding should make it possible for Oak to survive long enough to nail the Venusaur with Ice Beam. Barring critical hit problems. That limits the pain of removing Bite, too. If Oak’s Special is all maxed, the particular move matters less.

Done, do it.

Oh.

NEVER MIND. Blastoise doesn’t learn it. Damn.

I think I’m thinking too hard. I’ll let Oak take the Pidgeot, then Trunk can set up against the Venusaur, then I’ll just let the nightmare of switching back and for be what it will. I guess. ...

How fast is Venusaur?

Faster than Blastoise, and my Blastoise has a nature impairing Speed.

Well, I can already feel how badly this is about to go.

Sorry in advance, Oak.

Hey.

So the Pidgeot is level 59.

And it still knows Sand-Attack.

AND WHIRLWIND, OKAY.

Sorry, little gal. This one wasn’t wholly my fault.

Trunk’s going out. If I can’t have Oak kill all the things, we’ll just. Yeah.

Featherdance. Featherdance, Whirlwind, Sand-Attack, and Aerial Ace. Fuck this thing, tbqh.

Alakazam’s next.

Featherdance really can’t stand, and the Sand-Attack severely impacts Trunk’s effectiveness as well.

Ooooooh I’m not going to like myself for what I do next.

Dig like your life depends on it, girl, because it does because I am awful.

Level 57 Alakazam v level 47 Dugtrio.

But my kid’s faster. All those EVs were good for something. Bark dodges a Psychic, and since Alakazam chose Future Sight, hopefully her next Dig will spare her that as well. Too stressed. Can’t count.

Okay, how bad...

She lived.

Bark, I do not deserve you.

You did so good, Bark. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Oak out to hopefully bait the Venusaur into showing up.

Alakazam’s Psychic packs a punch, but still a green one, and Oak’s Bite settles the matter.

Yes, the Venusaur is coming out.

The. Level 63 Venusaur. Hell.

And Earthquake isn’t super effective like I thought/hoped.

Two Growths, and Sunny Day. Oh fuck this can’t end well.

But Body Slam paralyzed it? So maybe?

Trunk outspeeds it.

It’s dead.

Oak swaps in on Rhydon because Trunk is going to be done the second he’s up against the Intimidate friends, so I need some time to set Oak up for the sweep.

It’s level 59.

This should be okay.

Sunlight faded. Want to use a Full Restore to heal up Oak in case of critical hits.

A couple of X Specials.

Should be good to go.

Rhydon down. Gyarados coming out. It’s level 59. It uses Hydro Pump, thankfully it doesn’t do much. Oak uses Toxic, and it actually hits.

Gyarados fainted.

Arcanine is up. Level 61. Need to Full Restore for caution. It uses Flamethrower. Doesn’t move Oak out of the green. Uses Flamethrower again, since it’s faster.

Oak uses Surf.

Oh.

Oh.

This. This was what this was all for, in the end.

I win.

Holy heck I win.

Pidgey-Oak, Krabby-Oak... you guys did great. Thanks. ...Many, many apologies.

Sap, we never got to see you shine the way I meant you to, but you were a valued member of the team, and made a lot of things so much simpler. If nothing else, you were an inspiration to try things a little more cerebrally, and that was the only approach that was going to make a dent.

Bark...

Bark. You were the linchpin. I brought you back into a fight you had to rely on luck for, and you brought in so much of that and just... I wish it made sense to use you more.

Oak.

Trunk.

You did it.

You really did it.

I’M DONE.

MANY FAILURES, MANY SADNESSES LATER. IT’S DONE. IT IS FINISHED. IT IS WON.

HEERO. PO. SPRINKLE. ZAFT. ALLENBY.

OAK AND TRUNK STAND ON THE BONES OF YOUR PROGRESS. THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR HARD WORK.

I AM NEVER DOING THIS TO MYSELF AGAIN.

Though I might come back to another Nuzlocke, in a while. Not now. Definitely not now. But except for this being horrific, it was a lot of taxing fun. So I’m sure I’ll come up with something else to do. Maybe not in this format. I’ve been trying to learn how to make Twitch do stuff, and playing and talking takes less time than playing and typing.

Who knows.

For now, though, it’s over. Thank you to anyone who’s read these.

[signutai]

Surprised kiss and Eyelashes/Glasses for the kiss prompts !!

[thislifeilive93]

Welcome to my Rock Bottom

I started this blog a little over two years ago. More for myself than for anyone else. I suffer from major anxiety so after reading countless non fictions about women in their twenties, I thought that maybe writing out my life may help. I have to say I fail majorly when it comes to keeping up with it... but I guess that’s all thanks to the mess I call my life. Sometimes I don’t have time to sit down and type it out. Well I am back again, this time because I am pretty sure I have hit another rock bottom. 

“Rock Bottom” is such a funny place to me. We go through so much in life and we think that our life is ending, then it gets a tiny bit better, but then you hit “rock bottom”. A new level of low in your life where you just don’t see yourself escaping from and this time always seems to be far worst from the last. Maybe it is our inability to truly get over our past where we sweep it under the rug and it just adds to the pile. Every time we get sucked back into our dark place it’s just that much messier. Who knows... but for the fact that I spent last night staring at a full bottle of pills, it’s safe to say this is officially my rock bottom. 

Now how did I get to the point where fourteen pain killers seemed like the best solution. Well that gets broken down into different segments which I will do my best to explain. My goal for this post is to not make you feel sorry for me or to strive for attention. My goal is to hopefully work through some pieces of my messy life in hopes that I feel a little relief. Also writing this for any twenty something year old who may be going through similar life situations and for them to know they are not alone because lets face it... those of us who don’t have it together are the rule and those who do are the exception (or they are just lying out of their ass to seem like they do). 

Work and Education: 

Okay I am going to start with the part of my life that could actually be worse but still kind of sucks. So truth factor I have yet to finish my bachelors degree. I have about one semester left. Which includes two spanish classes and then three extra sociology courses. Now don’t get me wrong the Sociology courses would be super easy for me to take and pass with flying colors. That is now that I am not stressing over working two jobs (a department store coordinator and a night time bartender). However the spanish is what kills me, if I don’t want to learn something I struggle. I can’t focus let alone memorize all the words and conjugations. So pretty much just having a pity party for myself which is why I am currently stuck babysitting not only juvenile delinquents but also the staff in which I work with. You see most of them are not trained in the field and have no idea how to work with these type of children, or just children in general. Yes I understand this part isn’t that bad and I still have the control to change but it still plays a role. 

Love:

Okay lets move on to the next section of my life... love. When I started this blog I was in a four year relationship with a man that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Which honestly looking back I don’t know how because apart from us having a pretty good friendship, there were some pretty clear signs that we were not meant to be even early on. After that I met a man who I wasn’t in love with more in lust with that ended up being physically and verbally abusive which lead to a restraining order... so pretty good choice there Sarah. Then I spent a short time falling for a man who was clearly still in love with his crazy ex, again.. go me. And now... well now I am in love with a man who is my best friend. I have never spent so many nights at the lake sharing every little piece of myself. I don’t like talking about my past and so if I do it’s never in detail but with him it’s different. There is a connection that runs so much deeper than the physical stuff it’s, mentally too. When I say he’s my person it’s because I mean it. However there’s a catch. One he still has his ex, and then some. Meaning he’s very good at entertaining and not settling down, which you can’t hold against a person when they’re being open about it. So I gave up on the idea of spending a life with him a long time ago. Never the less the pain that goes along with loving some one who actually understands you, listens to you, is there for you, excepts you for you, and you are so god damn attracted to. It is the worst kind of heart break I have ever been through. I constantly relate the way our relationship to the Greys episode where Lexi says “ I love you, I will always love you. But I don’t want to love you, I want to be happy. And if you keep pulling me I’ll come back to you”. Yeah I felt that shit in my soul and nothing has ever been more true. 

Money: 

Money in your twenties is almost non existent especially for the twenty to twenty-five year range unless you have been blessed with wealth. Which yes I am probably bitter about the fact that some people are handed money but never the less it wasn’t their choice the sons of bitches just got lucky. I am not poor, I can pay my bills and have extra spending cash however my problem is I procrastinate. I suck at being an adult. I forget about things until the last min which has caused me to lose my car once (almost twice). Lost service on my phone a few times, only for a few hours each time. And most recently gotten my license suspended. Don’t be like me, because I know again this is a portion of my life I can control but I failed. Miserably. Now I am frantically trying to figure out how to pay for my tickets, get my car fixed because the noise I once ignored is louder than my radio goes, my rent, and my car payment (Which I also forgot to make last month.. I hate myself). I could definitely be in a more stable place but my anxiety gets so worked up I literally stop doing everything which makes things so much worse. I slightly resent my mother for not teaching me how to be better at this part of growing up but I am far more to blame.   

Personal: 

This portion as much as I want to be completely honest about, I can’t be yet. Because apparently I have someone who has it out for me and tries to blow up things by finding shit on my social media, so if that person is reading this fuck off. Never the less this part, the part I can’t share is the biggest cause to me hitting rock bottom. It’s not even the situation itself, it’s the people who surround the situation who make it impossible to breathe. I have never been put through such a hell and been manipulated to the point that I had someone tell me that my life choices have made them want to take their own life. When you have a person tell you that there is no escape from feeling like you are the biggest piece of shit. True or not. The battle in your head tells you that you are worth nothing and that clearly the world would be better off without you. Which is what lead me to the place I reached last night. Laying, staring at a bottle of pain killers. Counting to fourteen over and over thinking I had fourteen chances of taking the pain away and making the world a better place by me not being here. Fourteen chances to make all of my problem go away for good, problems that I am in complete control of but I can’t seem to fix. 

So today I am typing, typing all of this out in hopes that I can come up with a plan to save myself. One that also includes handing over the pills and getting rid of the possibly to completely lose myself. Today I try to find a way to finally fight for myself. Even though I feel like nothing I know I am not a terrible person and that it is not my fault that another person wants to push them self to the edge. My choices and my beliefs are not so wrong that I should feel guilty for them. I have been through hell and back. This is so small compared to some obstacles but non the less I know I hit a new “Rock Bottom” because I feel as though I have to save everyone else before I save myself which is not true. I can’t pull someone out of their dark place when I am stuck in mine. 

Being twenty something is hard, but we just have to continue to push through and know we are not alone. I repeat this over and over to convince myself to believe it, even if right now I might not. 

[sleepersimagination]

Morning sex

This is relatively long,and I was inspired by this gif of Andy. If you like and want more please feel 100% free to let me know! Feedback to this is also greatly appreciated.

I groaned as a sliver of sunshine creeped through the blinds temporarily blinding me.  Still exhausted I turned around, immediately catching whiff of the man soundly asleep right beside me.  Andy was facing me, his eyebrows furrowed. He had one of his arms lying on my waist while the other rested in front of him resting casually. Brief images of the events of last night flickered through my head. A small grin spread on my lips as I watched him. His lips slightly spread ajar. For once, everything was at peace, in my world and his. No arguing, no accusations, no tense moments, just bliss. I was happy and hopefully, so was he. Andy had been back and forth between the studio and home. Slowly getting better at juggling his time. I remember when the imbalance caused arguments, not anymore though. He was here, and all was right.

   Suddenly, the blankets shuffled and Andy’s eyes slowly drifted open. His eyes instantly locked with mine before he briefly closed them to stretch.

“Good morning” he mumbled, looking back up at me, attempting to shield his eyes from the bright rays.

“Morning” I replied. I slid down so we were face to face. His piercing blue eyes gazing straight at me.

“Do you have to work today?” I questioned, taking his hand within mine and intertwining our fingers.

He shook his head. “I took a few days off” leaning up and moving his body over mine, his hair tickling my nose.  “To clear my mind and spend some more time with you” Andy brought his head down lightly dusting his lips across my jaw.

“…And what do you have in mind?” I asked knowing full well were this was going.

Andy lifted his lips up to meet mine, kissing me slowly savoring each other’s taste and feel. A small moan escaped me when his tongue flickered against my lips, questioning for an entrance. I happily gave it, allowing me to slide my fingers through his hair, relishing in its softness.

Andy planted his hands on either side of my hands, bending his elbows so he could move closer to me. His body rested over mine. My chest barely touching his.

The kiss got more intense and my breathing became more erratic. I tightened my grip on his hair, attempting to pull him closer and earning myself a harsh groan from andy who broke away. God, his sounds were so sexy. A glint sparkled in his eye I could only interpret as pure lust. He grinned, not the soft, warm smile he usually gave; But the kind that made me squirm and restless.

With one quick movement he pulled the covers over his head, leaving me alone in the room flustered and with the lingering feeling of his soft lips on mine. I felt him trail his tongue across my neck occasionally softly kissing me. I could tell he was still a little tired, he was going slower, his actions were gentler. I watched in pleasure as I watched his body move under the covers. It added an extra level of interest and intensity because I didn’t know his next move. Andy was full of surprises and he wouldn’t hesitate. I bit my lip in anticipation for what he would do next.

   I felt him hover over my breasts, his breath sitting in the valley between them.

“Andy” I whined, frustrated by the lack of contact. His hands trailed up my sides brushing his thumb against my nipple, perking them up instantly. His fingers crept down my body, tickling the skin. Reaching all the way down, his fingertips slowly make their way down to my most precious and sensitive area. I didn’t bother trying to stifle my moans, it was only us. And I wanted him to hear me, I wanted him to hear the pleasure he gave me. He kissed the tender spot below my belly button while dipping a finger inside me and bringing it forward. My wetness easing his way. At the same time he brought his head up and took my nipple in his mouth, suckling it and drawing it deeper. I groaned, grabbing the sheets and holding on as tightly as I could. His fingers strumming my clit, adding a little bit more pressure each time. A whimper escaped my lips.

Andy began thrusting his finger at a more rapid pace.  I couldn’t control my breathing, all of my focus was aimed towards the beautiful man currently between my legs.  

Andy released his mouth from my breast with a popping sound. I felt him smile against my skin, moving lower and lower until he finally gave me what I needed. He took hold of my thighs spreading them farther apart so he could fit comfortably. Giving me a quick kiss on my thigh, he wasted no time. He kissed me tenderly, sweeping his tongue through my folds. My moans turned into drawn out sighs of pleasure. I released my grip on the sheets and reached under the blanket immediately feeling Andy’s silky hair covering his shoulders. All of a sudden my hands were wrapped in a tight grip and forced to either side of me, essentially pinning my arms down and preventing me from touching him. The limited movement caused me to arch my back off the bed. His sweet torture continued and I could barely think properly. He continues his licks, pushing me farther and farther until I begin crying out.

I have no idea how long he was down there. I couldn’t think about anything but him. “Andy” I moaned out. Suddenly he released his mouth and peeked his head out from under the covers, kissing whatever inch of skin was in his path. “Fuck” Andy breathed. His eyes glued to mine. His legs moved in between mine, spreading my legs even further.  His erect length teasing my entrance.

               “Wait” I said pushing my hands on his tattooed chest. “I want you to relax” my voice was low. Last night, just like this morning, Andy had done all the work. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, but I wanted to give him the pleasure he gave me without him doing anything. I pressed on his chest, attempting to turn him over. His look of confusion slowly vanished as he succumbed. He was stronger than me and if he didn’t want to let me push him, he wouldn’t have.

 Andy looked up at me, laying down on his back.  I never broke eye contact as I reached between us, stroking him a few times before raising my hips letting him slip inside. We both groaned in unison. The familiar amazing feeling of fullness returning. This was about him and I was determined to make him feel good.  

               I began rolling my hips and Andy’s moans became lost in a growl. His breathing became staggered. I was becoming more and more aroused watching him. I reached down pushing his hair back, allowing me to see the entirely of his face.  He really was so beautiful.  Andy closed his eyes, and I reached down taking his hands bringing them up and placing them on my breasts. Letting go, he began massaging me, occasionally pinching my nipples. I leaned down for a moment, kissing him deeply before placing my hands down and moving my hips, finding a faster rhythm and the angle that hit my pleasure point exactly. Lost to passion, arousal pooled in my stomach.  Andy opened his eyes, his usual bright eyes darkened. His hands grabbed ahold of my hips.

    “Dammit, you’re going to kill me.” He sucked in a breath. Reaching down circling my clit with his thumb. Heightening the pleasure even more. I had wanted this about him, but I couldn’t muster up enough energy to stop him. I embraced the sensations flying through my body. I began chanting his name, his name the only coherent thought in my head. The way he hit me so deep, in places with little effort, pressing against the center of my nerves in areas only he could reach. I felt my body bubbling over. I was so far I couldn’t feel the pain of his grip on my hips. Andy’s eyes tightened and I knew he was close. One final thrust and I froze, twisted in all the emotions and feelings racing through me. Andy let out a final loud groan as he rode out his release. Watching him explode I had no strength to hold myself up anymore. I collapsed onto Andy’s chest. My face cradled in his neck.

“I love you” he whispered in my ear. “I made the right choice taking those days off.” I smiled. “Obviously” I replied.

.

[rilenerocks]

When Michael and I were expecting our first baby, we spent lots of time talking about the type of parents we wanted to be, along with the kind of atmosphere we hoped to create in our home.  I think that’s what most people do. Michael in particular wanted to build a space where our children felt totally accepted for who they were, where their friends were always welcome, a home that was a truly secure haven. So what was one of the first things we did when we brought our little girl home from the hospital? We put her little downstairs daytime bed right underneath the stereo in the orange room which was our combination music room and library. After ten years of rocking out at mega-decibels, we wanted to make sure she could get used to sleeping with the volume turned up. The photo above shows her lying there, angelically asleep, with Michael smiling as one of our dogs gazed at this novel little creature. I’m there, too, my top half missing from the shot. I’m sure the whole room was vibrating.

Our plan worked. We created a little rocker who fit right in with us. Her early musical tastes were focused on a lot of one-hit wonder tunes, like Mickey and Come On, Eileen. Michael, who through his record store had access to all kinds of music, started making House Favorites tapes and then, CD’s, first for all of us, and then eventually, just for our little girl.

In early 1983, a pop song named Whirly Girl by the group OXO was released and climbed into the top 30 records on the Billboard Charts. Our baby was crazy about it so we played it all the time. The other day as I was working out in the yard, it popped up on a random shuffle in my headphones. Initially, I was swamped with memories from that time but ultimately I focused on the song title because that’s how my mind feels right now – whirly.

There’s a certain amount of time I spend every day thinking about either the masks war, in which people absolutely refuse to wear a mask because doing so stomps on their individual freedom, or the fact that so many who do comply, wear them incorrectly. When I venture out into the world, invariably I run into either one or both of those types. I absolutely do not get any of this. Absent the financial means to afford one, I don’t understand how anyone who is a member of a community greater than one, treasures this freedom of theirs as more valuable than public health. I wonder how they’d have felt if they had to sew yellow stars on their clothes so they could be easily identified by their religion. I get pretty roily inside when I think about how small and selfish their minds must be. Especially when they wrap up their righteous rage in the flag or the Constitution. Grrr. Then there are these folks who are actually wearing the masks absolutely incorrectly. Their noses aren’t covered, the mask is below their chins or hanging off one ear. I find this particularly maddening when I go to pick up food from an institution with a big sign touting all the healthful protocols their business is taking to protect everyone’s health. Do these owners check on their employees? I mean, is slipping two loops over your ears as complex as solving a Rubik’s cube? Rocket science? Should I gently point out their mistakes? Or just continue to fume away about the level of stupid and selfish I see around me? I guess the pandemic is turning me into an intolerant, crotchety old lady. Or maybe that’s who I’ve always been without the old part.

Of course, there is the daily dose of Trumpian dystopia which relentlessly  escalates, despite the feeling that each awful revelation from the day before is the zenith of his horrors. The bigotry and racism seemed hard to top, along with the denial of the Covid19 crisis,  but now we find ourselves in the midst of a new madness, which essentially put the lives of American troops into a dark marketplace of murder and headhunting for bounties. Do I feel incredulous? Sadly, no. Truly, this person seems utterly devoid of any interior moral foundation. He is the definition of self. I don’t know whether his simple fascination with tyrannical leaders is just wishful dreaming, or whether Putin really does have the ultimate blackmail item in his back pocket which he can pull out at any time. Right now I’m glad that the EU has banned travel from the US into their countries. Given everything, that action seems fitting.  My mind indeed is a whirly place.

Final approval of your loan is in progress…You have conditional approval on your loan application. We’re currently reviewing the remaining documentation required for final approval.

In the midst of the outside big world jumble, I managed to complicate my life a little further. Back in 2012, when Michael got diagnosed with his cancer, we refinanced our house. We were looking to pay off outstanding bills, get extra cash for out-of-pocket treatment costs and enough money to take some trips. When you get a diagnosis with an almost certain prognosis of death, you try to stuff in as many life experiences as you can, especially the ones you thought would be part of a retirement that would stretch out for years, given the longevity in Michael’s family. The best-laid plans, right? During the five years that Michael survived, we took advantage of that strategy. After he died in May, 2017, I wasn’t in the mental space to give much thought to mortgages and the like. I was in survival mode. During the last three years, I’ve done my own traveling while trying to adjust to my highly undesired new life. But during this time of isolation, I have swung back around to the business of my big old house. I’ve done a lot of physical fixing. Noting that interest rates for mortgages  had dropped well below what we’d gotten 8 years ago, I decided to refinance, shortening the term and saving lots of money. Sounded like a good plan – everything was moving along nicely when I suddenly realized that an appraisal was required. After the sordid housing crisis of 2008, the lenders have tightened up the requirements from appraisers. They now take photos of every room in your house, all the mechanical items and even the basement and garage. Uh-oh. I’ve made a few sporadic efforts at cleaning the garage, Michael’s domain, which is full of intriguing stuff. The only time I go into the basement is when it’s time to change the furnace filter. It’s actually a dark, creepy cellar with awful stairs which is accessible only from the outside. Years ago, one of my son’s friends was making a horror film. He asked if he could shoot part of it in our basement as it was one of the scariest places in town.

What a nightmare. I spent hours down there, sweeping, sorting, finding a few treasures and mostly ancient junk like carburetor parts and old lawnmower engines. The garage wasn’t much better. This business-y idea turned out to be grindingly hard labor. I stashed aside some potentially salvageable 45’s and albums that were somehow overlooked when we divested ourselves of Michael’s collection. Most of everything else went into the garbage. The appraiser came and went. She said things were fine. If only she’d seen it all before my massive efforts. Ah, well. All that’s left is my exhaustion and a who-do-I-think-I’m-kidding-at-my-age hangover that’s making it hard to get up from my chair.

Whirling back to the outside, life in the yard is good. I have nesting house wrens, cardinals and robins. They’re making good use of my birdbaths and cubbies for raising their hatchlings. The monarchs have found the milkweed. I could do without the big influx of rabbits along with the omnipresent squirrels who’ve eaten too many plants, denuded blossoms getting ready to open, and vandalized vegetables for no good reason that I can discern. I’ve engaged them in a race for the black raspberries, though and have chalked up a minor victory.

The flowers of course are magnificent and bring me great joy. The labor involved in urging them out of the ground is worth it. Just looking at them helps ratchet down the constant whirling thoughts that flit from subject to subject in my clicking head. Today, I put my coping skills to good use by enhancing my personal relaxation space with an outdoor mini-spa for myself. I don’t see getting back in the water any time soon. This will do for the present. As the saying goes, “adapt or die.”

As I mull over this life, so different from what I ever thought possible, I did have one recent experience that was delightful and satisfying. One of the hardest issues I’ve faced since Michael died was the collective responses that people have had to me and my feelings about my future. I’ve always known that I would never want to have another partner. That attitude was met with different reactions. Some people thought my grief was too fresh for me to know what I’d want. They’d say, give it some time to go through the stages following a big loss. Then we’ll see if you change your mind. If I talked about the challenges of being alone, they’d say, but you have your children and grandchildren. And that means what? They have their own lives. We intersect, as always. But it’s not the same as climbing in bed every night with your best friend and lover. As the months have passed, I’ve concluded that there’s just a lot of discomfort in these kinds of discussions. Unless you’ve lived the same life as someone else, you just don’t know what will work for them. And everyone’s relationship with their partners is different. I believe mine was an aspirational love that was rare. I had it for 45 years. I’m still in it. I feel my relationship every day, deep in the core of me. I don’t believe I could ever have that again and anything less is irrelevant. I have a number of people, most importantly my kids, who get this.Often, I draw a blank stare. But I had a great thing happen with one of my oldest friends, someone that both Michael and I’ve known for over 50 years.  Our lives have been closely connected all that time.

Glenn and Michael met at college in 1967 and lived in the same fraternity house, although Michael moved out after a year. I met Glenn when I came to college in 1968, through a high school friend of mine. I didn’t meet Michael until 1971, but he and I both always knew Glenn. We all socialized, but initially, with different groups of people who ultimately became blended. Glenn and I had a date once – the most memorable part of that for us both was really enjoying the album we were listening to – Tea for the Tillerman.

When I was arrested in 1971 at an anti-war demonstration, Glenn bailed me out of jail. All three of us worked at the record store which ultimately became Michael’s career for the 27 years before he became a history teacher. When Michael and I became a couple in 1972, Glenn would visit us on a regular basis to enjoy the verbal sparring and bickering we engaged in, very different from his non-confrontational style. Glenn told me he was afraid that I’d overpower sweet Michael with my combat-boot personal style, but that  never happened. We were with him through a series of his relationships up to and including his marriage which has now lasted decades. We shared life events together, from having kids to losing family members. He and Michael went on white-water rafting and canoe trips. We played Hearts and Spades together on a regular basis and wound up going to a lake in Michigan every summer for years with a group of old friends for family camp. Glenn worked for the city for which Michael was an alderman and later, head of the city’s planning commission. They were both involved with the local food bank. When we had our daughter, Glenn gave her more gifts for her first birthday than we did. Twenty-five years later, he became a certified wedding officiant and performed her wedding ceremony. When Michael was withdrawn into the last stage of his life, he saw Glenn once, the only person who got into our house besides medical professionals and our family.

Last week, I went to see Glenn and his wife Colleen for an outdoor social distanced visit, the first time I’d seen them in many months. We had a lot to catch up on, what we’d all been doing, what was happening with our kids, how we felt about the current state of the world. Glenn asked me how I was managing, going through this weird time on my own. I told him that I never really felt alone, as Michael’s presence is just here, all the time. In the most normal, conversational tone, he said, “you know, it feels like your relationship with Michael right now is a lot better than it was right after he died.” I was startled, delighted and I laughed a lot. I’ve been laughing about it periodically. I told him that I was so utterly drained and devastated after Michael’s death that it had taken me awhile to recover from the expensive emotional price wrested from me by those challenging years. Now I’ve had a lot of recovery time and the way I feel with Michael is like the majority of our life together, wonderful,  rather than those painful, stressful times. So, yeah, we’re good. Still arguing in some of my dreams, though. I was really delighted that for the first time, someone acted normal and accepting of me rather than awkward or judgmental. That meant a lot.

I’ve covered a lot of mental turf in this post. As I said, these days, I’m a whirly woman. Actually that might always have been true – it’s just that these days, everything feels exaggerated. On to the next set of thoughts.

Whirly Woman When Michael and I were expecting our first baby, we spent lots of time talking about the type of parents we wanted to be, along with the kind of atmosphere we hoped to create in our home.  

[filmfanatic82]

The Long Game (Chapt 3: Fusing Pink with Green)

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 3: Fusing Pink with Green

“Explain it to me again why I can’t go back to my own apartment?” Trini huffs out from the confines of the bed as she mindless flips through the endless array of channels on the tv.

“It’s not safe,” Kim replies without missing a beat. She makes her way around the suite, unceremoniously collecting her belongings and stuffing them into a beat up army duffle.

“You’re like a fuckin’ broken record, Hart.” Trini stops flipping, reaches into her jeans pocket and produces a yellow power coin. “I’ve got one of these as well. Remember? I can take care of myself.”

Kim stops at the sight of Trini’s power coin as a look of shock crosses her face. “You still have it?”

“Yeah. Tried to give it up once or twice but Jason wouldn’t let me.”

“Can you still…,” Kim trails off, not really knowing how to finish her sentence.

“No. Not in years. You?”

There’s something about Trini’s last word that snaps Kim right out of her momentarily trance and back into the reality of the situation. Truthfully, she doesn’t know how to even begin to answer that.

Straight up morphing? Like they used to do back when they were a team? No. Kim hasn’t been able to do that since that fated day eight years ago in Angel Grove.

Not like she hasn’t tried to. God, how Kim has tried. Time and time again. But that ability seemed to just disappear into thin air the moment she left everyone behind.

But there are other things… Things that Kim has discovered she can do throughout the years that simply can’t be described with mere words. Things that need to be seen to be fully understood.

“No,” Kim quietly responds as she goes back to packing. A moment passes and then--

WHACK.

Kim is blindsided by a throw pillow to the head. “Jesus. What the hell?”

“I need to go back to my place.”

“Not happening.”

“Then what the hell am I gonna wear? Huh? Doubt this is just gonna be a day trip.”

“Here.” Kim grabs a nearby gray v-neck t-shirt and tosses it back at Trini, hitting her square in the face.

Annoyed, Trini clicks off the TV and pushes herself up into a sitting position. Her hands wrap around the edges of the soft t-shirt, holding it up in front of her body and gives it a once over. It’s big. Not comically too big, but just big enough for it to be uncomfortable. “I don’t do dresses.”

“It’s not that big.”

“I need my own clothes, Hart.” Trini replies, balling the t-shirt up and tossing it back in Kim’s direction.

“Fine. I’ll get you new ones.”

“No offense, but I don’t trust you buying clothes for me.”

“Why not?”

Trini doesn’t respond. She simply gives Kim a head to toe once over with her eyes and then comes to rest with a judgemental stare. “Cause I’ve seen your wardrobe.”

Suddenly, hit with a wave of self-consciousness, Kim tugs on the ends of her generic black t-shirt, taking a moment to thoroughly it. Sure, her style has hardened over the years into something else. Something that uniquely feels right. Swapping her old high school style slowly over time for a simple uniform of leather and t-shirts accompanied by a few pieces of silver jewelry here and there. It’s nothing special and yet, it fits Kim like a glove.

“There’s nothing wrong with my wardrobe.” Kim pushes down her doubts with a hard swallow and then straightens herself up a bit in an attempt to give off the appearance of not caring.

“Sure. If you’re planning on spending the next decade on the back of a Harley Davidson.”

“It’s a Suzuki.”

“What is?”

“My bike,” Kim says with an exhale of breath as she runs her hands through her extra messy locks. “It’s a Suzuki.”

A small, uncontrollable laugh erupts from Trini’s lips. “Of course it is.”

Without another word, Trini slides off the bed, slips back on her flip flops, and then heads straight towards Kim with a sudden resolution that is more than a bit unnerving.

“What are you…,” Kim trails off trying to read Trini’s face.

“You done?” Trini motions downwards to the army green duffle in Kim’s hands.

Kim opens her mouth to respond but can’t seem to find her words. Not with Trini this close to her.

Suddenly, the distinct scent of vanilla mixed with a bit of jasmine fills Kim’s nostrils, triggering an overwhelming rush of emotions. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, in a feeble attempt to ground herself. But the scent is just too powerful.

It seeps into Kim, invading every ounce of her being, willing her to make a move. To simply reach out, wrap her hands around Trini’s waist, and pull her closer until their bodies are touching.

“Kimberly?”

The sound of Kim’s name-- her full name-- instantly brings her back to reality. Her eyes pop back open and she gives Trini a slight nod. “Yeah. I’m done.”

“Good.” Trini grabs hold of Kim’s duffle bag, hoists it over her shoulder, and then without another moment’s hesitation, starts to head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Kim calls out, still frozen in her spot.

“You’ll see,” Trini responds with a hint of a playful smirk.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Less than an hour later, Kim finds herself trapped in her own mini version of hell on earth… Target.

Overly bright lights. Endless sea of useless, colorful crap. Irksome people pushing and shoving their way through the aisles with their annoying loud shopping carts. Everything about these types of places make Kim’s skin crawl. The simulation is just too much. Too many unknown variables for her to predict.

“You look miserable,” Trini points out as she casually pushes her cart through intricate maze of clothing racks. She takes her time, checking out the wide array of tops, all a far cry from her high school days of flannels and oversized band t-shirts.

“I’m fine.” Kim rolls her shoulders and gives her neck a quick, but audible crack, trying to shake off her impending anxiety. She drums her fingers on a nearby shelf filling the void with a steady tinging sound as her rings hit against the cool metal.

“Right.” Trini picks up a pale yellow scoop neck top, giving it a once over, before tossing it into the cart. “Biker chick Kimberly doesn’t do shopping?”

“No. It’s not that. Just not of fan of these types of places.”

“What? Like Target? How can you not like Target? Everyone likes Target.”

“Not me,” Kim mutters under her breath as she moves towards another shelf farther away from Trini. Every fiber of her being desperately craves to just open up and explain why, but she knows better. This isn’t the time nor the place.

Especially not in a place like this.

Instead, Kim turns her attention to something else… someone else to be more precise. To Trini.

Kim silently focuses in on Trini, watching as she holds up two different tops, comparing the price tags. And as she does, the rest of the ever present distractions seem to melt away. The world around Kim goes completely and utterly quiet, as if someone has randomly hit the mute button.

After years of practice, tapping into her powers has become almost second nature to Kim. Like flipping a switch. Select a target, focus for a few moments, and then the rest always seems to take care of itself. There just isn’t a better explanation for it.

It tends to develop in Kim’s mind like a polaroid picture. Fuzzy at first, but as seconds tick by, edges sharpen and objects become more defined. Sometimes it’s just a flash. The briefest of glimpses into an image or even an idea. And other times, it’s so much more. Images so intense that they linger for days-- even months-- at a time.

“If you like it, you should get both. And that pink one you put back ten minutes ago as well.” Kim nonchalantly flips through a rack, barely paying attention to the tops as she does. It’s not about the tops. It’s about the mere act of doing something. Something that’s mundane and normal.

“How did you…” Trini trails off as a look of utter confusion sweeps across her face.

Kim knows that look. No. She more than knows it. Kim dreads it.

It’s the look that happens whenever someone gets hit with the eerie sensation that their mind has just been read.

“Just a guess,” Kim quietly replies, once again moving herself farther away from Trini.

An awkward silence falls between the two of them as Kim wanders from rack to rack without any real purpose or reason. Anything to avoid those two chocolate brown eyes that are currently boring into the back of her skull.

Kim makes her way over to a nearby display of hats and instantly spots a plain yellow beanie. She scoops it up, examines it for a moment or two, then tosses it towards Trini’s cart.

“Who’s this for?” Trini fishes the beanie out from the sea of tops and jeans and holds it up.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I owe you one. Never got around to replacing that one of yours I lost at the quarry,” Kim responds with a light shrug of her shoulders.

A small but noticeable smile crawls across Trini’s lips as the memory washes over her like a warm, gentle wave. “Forgot about that.”

“I didn’t.” Kim catches Trini’s eyes and returns the smile.

“Toss me another one. Just in case your ass loses this one too.”

Kim bends down to grab another yellow beanie when suddenly--

WEE-HOO. WEE-HOO.

The store alarm blared over the loud speakers at an ear splitting level, practically drowning out all other ambient noises.

“Fuckin’ shoplifters,” Trini mutters under her breath as she continues to shop, completely unphased.

Kim, though, doesn’t hear her. She can’t. The screech of the alarm invades Kim’s brain, blocking all other rational and sane thoughts. The thoughts that keep the deep, darker urges at bay.

Kim hunches over, hands gripping onto her knees for dear life. Her breath quicken as beads of sweat start to form at her hairline.

“Kimberly?” Trini’s voices calls out in a faint, tinny echo as if she’s hundreds of yards away.

“Princess… Princess… Princess…,” Kim chants under her breath as she feels the tremors radiate up her arms. Her knees slightly buckle under her body weight but moving isn’t an option. Kim knows better. She has to just focus. Breath and focus.

“Kim?”

And then there’s a touch. Just the lightest of fingertips against Kim’s shoulder blade, but it’s enough.

The shred of control that Kim has been desperately clawing to hold onto instantly crumbles, slipping out of her grasp like grains of sand. She feels the undiluted anger plow through her veins at an inhuman like pace.  

“Don’t touch me!” Kim growls as she rips her body away from Trini’s hand. A distinct flash of green light burst forth from her eyes, creating a minor halo effect around her face.

Trini recoils in a mixture of shock and fear, not fully knowing what to do or say.

But it doesn’t matter. Kim seizes the opportunity to push herself upright and then without another moment’s hesitation, bolts from the store.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Master Kimberly, you need to lay still,” Alpha 5 chirps as he repositions Kimberly’s arm back into the designated strap.

“Right. Sorry.” Kimberly lets out a nervous breath of air and swallows thickly. She tries to focus in on anything else in the world except for the fact that she’s currently being strapped down to a large metal table by a zillion year old robot. Easier said than done.

“Kimberly, before we start, there are a few things we need to--”

“No,” Kimberly cuts Zordon off with a definitive tone to her voice. “We’ve been through this already. I don’t want to know.”

“I know, but there are some critical elements that you must understand. Your essence is about to be fused with one of the most powerful evil forces in all of existence. And with it will come unforeseen powers that you nor the other rangers have yet to experience. Powers that if left unchecked will consume you.” Zordon pauses for a moment to let the weight of his words fully sink in.

“I’ll lose myself.” Kimberly closes her eyes as wave after wave of fear mixed with anxiety crashes down upon her. She swallows down the ever growing lump in her throat and blinks back a hint of tears.

“Kimberly, you don’t have to--”

“Just get it over with, okay?” And with those words, Kimberly lays her head firmly back down on the table and gives a nod of confirmation to Alpha 5.

Alpha 5 moves forward and affixes the final head strap, giving Kimberly a gentle pat on the shoulder as he does. “It’ll be over before you know it, Master Kimberly.”

“Thanks Alpha.” Kimberly forces a smile and then with a deep sobering breath, shuts her eyes once again, bracing herself for what’s to come.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Kim sits on the curb outside of Target, arms folded up against her knees, just watching the steady stream of shoppers pass by. She barely moves with the exception of the occasional blink or two, almost appearing to be in a deep, meditative state.

A moment passes and then--

“Fuck it.” Kim exhales a deep breath of air and runs her hands through her hair, tucks a stray lock or two behind her ear in the process. Her hands instinctively grope the inner breast pocket of her leather jacket, searching for something, and then, like magic, produces a beat-up pack of cigarettes and sleek silver lighter. Kim snags a single cigarette from the pack, pops it into her lips, and flings the light open with a graceful flick of her wrist. She watches the flames dance for a moment or two in front of her face. There’s something hypnotic about it. The vibrant oranges and reds against the bland concrete colored background. Almost magical.

Kim leans forward, dipping the tip of the cigarette into the flames. But before it can light up--

A hand reaches in, snatching the cigarette straight from Kim’s lips.

“Yeah, no. Not fuckin’ happening, Hart.”

Surprised, Kim glances up to find that the hand belongs to Trini. “Hey. I--”

“When the hell did you take up smoking? Do you know how insanely bad these things are for you? You’ve got a history of asthma,” Trini cuts Kim off with a harsh, almost parental, tone to her voice.

“Who’s the mom, now?” Kim responds as a small smirk crawls across her face. She flicks the lighter closed and puts it back into her inner pocket. “And I don’t. Not normally. I just have one every now and then to help take the edge off. Especially when things get intense.”

The meaning of these last words instantly softens Trini. She lets out an exasperated sigh and then takes a seat next to Kim on the curb. “You’re talkin’ about what happened back in there?”

Kim gives the slightest of nods in response. She stares out once again onto the stream of shoppers, unable to bring herself to look Trini in the eyes. She knows that if she does, there will be no holding back. No secrets left untold.

The two sit in silence for a moment or two, then--

“It’s still bad, isn’t it?”

“Depends on the day and the situation.” Kim shifts a bit, kicking a nearby rock with the toe of her black leather boot. “Most of the time it’s fine.”

“You know we could’ve helped. Me, Jase, Billy, Zack. I’m sure Zordon and Alpha could’ve figured out what caused this with one or two of those scans they used to do on us. Hell, maybe even found a cure for it,” Trini responds with an ever so slight tremble as she fights back her emotions.

And there it is. The singular lie Kim’s been holding onto for the last eight years. The root of everything that has transpired so far and the sole way they will-- or hopefully will-- survive what’s to come. Her green-tinted cross to bare.

If only Kim could reveal the truth to Trini. She’s thought about it almost every single day since leaving Angel Grove. But with the truth comes the risk of jeopardizing the plan… and then the last eight years worth of painstaking sacrifice after sacrifice would all be for nothing.

No. The lie needs to remain in place. Just a little while longer. Until Kim is 100% sure they’ll survive… Until it’s over.

“There’s no cure.” Kim sits motionless, letting the half-truth linger between the two of them. She fidgets with one of her silver rings, trying to keep herself distracted from the skin-crawling silence. Waiting for Trini to say something… anything.

But the response never comes. Trini simply gets up off of the curb, brushes off her jeans, and then extends her hand to Kim in an offer to help her up.

Kim stares at Trini’s hand for a second, not fully sure what to make of it. Is it acceptance? Understanding? Or something else? Her mind cycles through the million and one ways to interpret this simple gesture, but can’t seem to land on the reason.

“I'm not gonna bite, Hart,” Trini says while moving her hand a bit closer to Kim.

Kim reaches up, wraps her fingers around Trini’s soft hand, and takes hold, allowing the small Latina to pull her up off of the curb. She’s forgotten just how strong Trini really is, both mentally and physically.

“Good. Now c’mon, moneybags. You need to pay for my stuff.”

“Who says I’m paying?” Kim responds with a slight chuckle.

“Oh you’re paying. You’re paying for this entire freakin’ mission. So you better get used to whipping out the benjamins.” With that, Trini starts to walk back towards the store entrance, leaving Kim standing there with a small but genuine smile on her face.

It feels like a start of something…

[thefinalcinderella]

DIVE!! Book 1 Chapter 6-BIG EVENT COMING

Ayyyyy we’re halfway through the book

Full list of translations here.

Previously on DIVE!!: Shibuki makes a big splash in his introduction.

The diving season arrived along with summer. Tomoki wondered whether or not his blood could detect the beginning of its arrival.

He felt bubbly. He felt slightly more red. He felt like speeding up straight away.

It was finally time to show off the painful achievements of practice, and his blood was flowing around his body in wild abandon as if it was floating without a tether. Well, wait, it’s the job of the brain to settle it down. I understand the feeling, but wait a second. You still haven’t chosen your entry event for the competition. If you want to put in new skills, you need more practice, and you have to pay attention to condition adjustment up until the competition.

Amidst this dual role of elevation and tranquility, the MDC’s practice gradually heated up as they turned towards the huge stage that came once a year.

For domestic competitions, the main ones aimed at Tomoki and other middle school students were the Junior High School Championships and the Junior Olympic Cup. Competent divers participated in both, and therefore left good results, so the faces who would appear on the podium were generally already decided. Tomoki, who had never set foot on the podium, intended to only focus on the Junior High Championships this year.

For high school students like Youichi, there’s the Inter-High and the juniors’ category of the Nationals. Also, there was no age restriction for the Japanese Championship, so anyone could participate as long as their entry event met the specified difficulty level. This year, Youichi was scheduled to compete at all three competitions.

If it wasn’t for Kayoko making her radical plans, both Tomoki and Youichi would had just gone through the summer as usual.

“First, I have a proposal for everyone.”

Kayoko launched the plan, as Shibuki was returning to Tokyo the afternoon of the next day. Not long after basking in the pleasure of her scouting success, she gathered Tomoki, Reiji, Ryou, Sachiya, Youichi, and Shibuki, who were doing dryland training in the training room, to the AV room, and immediately went to the next item of business. Kayoko was constantly on the move.

“I heard it from Coach Fujitani. Apparently, someone’s been saying that I’ve been specially watching over one of you, but what does that mean? Does that mean I’m offering special guidance to one of you? That I’m spending extra time with one of you? If you are dissatisfied with my coaching, please point it out more specifically next time. It’s Just like me telling you to raise your chin by five millimeters, or taking off 0.5 seconds earlier, don’t I always say stuff like that, right?”

Kayoko wasn’t at all perturbed by the matter of the complaints. It also seemed that she didn’t care, at the moment, that they knew she was the granddaughter of the former Mizuki president.

“Leaving that aside, there’s one more thing. Regarding the condition for the survival of the MDC that Coach Fujitani told you about, I’d like to have a more detailed talk about it today.”

The survival of the MDC. In the end, it was the only thing that occupied Kayoko’s mind.

“Anyways, I was going to talk about it one day, but I didn’t want to pressure you all. However, in order for the MDC to survive, we must have the right to represent at the Olympics. If none of you gets it, then this club will be shut down. That’s our reality.”

Kayoko expressed her plain, straightforward thoughts.

Youichi was the one who identified that straightforward ball, and hit it back where it hurts.

“For the survival of the MDC? So, you want us to go to Sydney for the MDC. No, or is it because of your dead grandpa? Or maybe you just want to protect your job?”

Kayoko thought about it for a while with her arms folded, and then smiled.

“Well, it could be for the MDC, for my grandfather, and for my own protection. But, what does that mean to you?”

“What…”

“Well then, listen up, Fujitani-kun. You do want to go to the Olympics, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“For whom?”

“…for myself.”

Youichi looked away, and Kayoko nodded.

“What’s important to you is your own feelings, not mine. If you go to Sydney, all the praise and emotions you acquire there are your own.  You won’t forget them there. Is there anyone else who wants to talk about this?”

“Um…” Sachiya timidly raised his hand. “There’s no way I’m aiming for Sydney, right?”

“You haven’t dived from the five-meter yet, so it’ll be difficult for you to suddenly represent at the Olympics. So, I think you’d like to go to Sydney with everyone else as their supporter, what do you think?”

Supporter. Although he didn’t know the specifics of that role, Sachiya seemed to like the sound of that. He smiled broadly and nodded.

“What else? If there’s nothing else, let’s go to the main issue.”

And so, Kayoko began to talk about the plan.

“The main issue is our proposition to the Olympics. Frankly, I think that’d be difficult as things are right now. A long career in diving means a lot in a competition, so the JASF (Japan Swimming Federation) would rather play it safe and pick an established diver for a crucial competition. Even though Fujitani-kun is considered strong, he still doesn’t have any overseas competition experience, right? Unless you have something exceptional, middle and high school students like you shouldn’t think you have a good chance at representing at the Olympics.”

So, Kayoko’s cat-eyes shone as she spoke.

“I want you to do something exceptional.”

“Something exceptional?”

“Tomoki-kun, Ryou-kun, Reiji-kun. May I ask you to give up on this year’s Junior High Championships?”

“Eh?”

“Youichi-kun, may I ask you to give up on all three domestic competitions this year?”

“What?”

Tomoki and the others were caught off-guard and worn out by the sudden, extraordinary proposals.

Giving up on the Junior High Championship, which was their target every year?

Giving up on Youichi doubtlessly sweeping the top awards at all three domestic competitions?

It was like saying they could have spring without cherry blossoms, summer without fireworks, autumn without red leaves, or winter without snow.

“There will be a big training camp in Beijing, in August.”

However, Kayoko had good reasons.

“It’s a two-week training camp where promising middle and high school divers from all over Asia gather. The number of participants will be three boys and three girls. There will be a qualifying trial to decide on the members, held at Tatsumi at the end of July.”

“July…”

“The JASF is willing to train Olympic athletes out of the six chosen.”

“!”

“Seriously?” someone let their murmur escape. Someone else also sucked in their breath. Excluding Shibuki, who had begun to doze off in the last row, everyone else’s eyes lit up as Kayoko’s words came back to them.

Asia Joint Training Camp—this time, it was the Chinese diving world that proposed and realized this event, but this was not the first time for the Asian countries to come together to focus on improving diving. There were diving officials from each country who taught traditional coaching methods, and diving exchange students being sent to deepen exchanges. It can be said that Asia was falling behind Europe and the United States, to the extent that they weren’t able to catch with them if they did not do all those things.

Originally, diving began in Sweden, and in the UK, the form of a competition was created, which then spread to the whole world. In order to compete against the Westerners with good figures in the limelight, Asians needed to refine acrobatic techniques that made full use of their smaller body builds, and to pursue a performance of “technique” against the Westerners’ “aesthetics”. China achieved that brilliantly and had climbed up to the top of the world. Through research on making the best of the physical characteristics of the Chinese, and a thorough educational system from early childhood, they were suddenly catapulted to the top of the world. The stereotype of the “Weak Asia” was destroyed through a hard struggle, and the podium of the diving competitions were no longer only for Westerners. It was the beginning of a welcome new era for Asian countries to follow in China’s footsteps.

But, it tended to be an era to prepare reigning champions to trials. Changes in the system of government and the declining leadership accompanying it, new regulations such as age fourteen or less could not participate in the Olympics, the hectic race between the US and Russia—these various factors came together and a gloom began to appear over the Chinese diving world, so after a while diving once again became monopolized by Europe and the US. It was too late after the impression of “Weak Asia” permeated. It had a mental influence on judges at international competitions, and was the root of evil that led them to be disadvantaged at contests. Asia had to become united in order to keep the impression of “Strong Asia”.

This feeling of crisis was lurking behind the Chinese diving world’s proposal of holding a training camp, and all of the Asian countries unanimously supporting it. The training of junior athletes was an urgent proposition for any country.

“It’s unusual for the JSF to announce their participation in the training camp this time and disregarding the extra expenses, so that’s probably a sign of the sense of crisis they feel. After all, it was probably as a result of the pride of being once known as a swimming superpower, though Japan was greedily learning techniques from America until now, there was a point where it turned its back against its fellow Asian country China.”

But, Kayoko sighed while continuing on.

“To be blunt, I won’t be able to say such things. Japan will be completely left behind from the rest of the world as it is. This impatience seems to exceed their pride. Of course, I think that the relationship of trust between Coach Sun and the JSF also had an effect in a big way.”

“Coach Sun…is he famous?”

“Yes, he’s a key figure that pulled the Chinese diving world to where they are now. He visited Japan frequently the last few years and deepened communications with the JSF. He is supposed to be the one to take overall command of this joint training camp.”

“That Coach Sun is…?”

“By the way, I heard that the JSF is also asking him to cooperate as an advisor for the selection of the Olympic representatives.”

A pipe chair squeaked behind Tomoki. He heard that sound every time Youichi fidgeted since the beginning of the talk. Youichi, who participated in a short-term training camp in the US every summer, wanted to go to China if as long as the money and practicing environment were arranged, and wanted to receive direct coaching from that Coach Sun. He had been saying that over and over again like it was his favorite phrase.

“You said that there will be qualifying trials to decide on the members of the joint training camp.”

“Yes, there will be six tickets that will have to be earned.”

“What are the entry conditions for the trials?” Youichi asked without waiting.

“First of all, you have to be a diver in middle or high school. Then, your entry dive has to meet certain degrees of difficulty. Don’t worry, all five of you are clear. However, the qualifying trials will be held four months later on July 29th. We already don’t have much time.”

“July…”

“It’s also close to the Kanto meet of the Junior High Championships. I think it’ll be difficult to make adjustments to participate in both competitions. If you want to join the training camp, you should abandon the Junior High Championships and focus on the qualifying trials. And also, if you want to go to Beijing, you won’t be able to compete in the Nationals or the Inter-High. It’s a dangerous gamble.”

While saying this, Kayoko didn’t relax her firm attitude.

“But, I think it’s worth it. As long as you become one of the six going to the training camp, you’d automatically be able to sell your face to Coach Sun. It’ll be a rough road for all of you to slip into the position of Olympic contender, as you’re all unknowns, but this is the best shortcut there. And next year’s Olympics are so close that we won’t make it in time without a shortcut.”

Abandoning the regular domestic competitions and focus everything on the qualifying trials.

Kayoko was pressing that decision on all of them.

But, not withstanding Youichi, how would Tomoki and the others, who had never participated in the national meet of the Junior High Championship, be able to become part of the chosen six at the qualifying trials, where middle and high school students gathered from all over Japan?

‘There’s four months until the qualifying trials. I will pull all of you up. I’ll promise you that. Of course, you’ll be the ones who will decide.”

Tomoki looked down at his dark feet.

Reiji and Ryou were looking at each other like they were reading each other’s thoughts.

Youichi was staring at Kayoko without moving at all.

Shibuki made little wheezing sounds as he slept soundly.

But at this time, everyone already had the determination in their minds to gamble on the qualifying trials.

Youichi was doing it for his ambition to go to the Olympics.

Tomoki, Ryou, and Reiji were doing it to be the one miracle in a million.

Shibuki was doing it for his contract with Kayoko.

--It was the spring of 1999. They of the MDC were trying to take their first step towards Sydney the following year.

Tomoki received a second proposal from Kayoko after that day’s meeting.

“Sakai-kun, last year you were only training for the high dive for the Junior High Championships. You passed on the springboard diving.”

Tomoki and Shibuki remained in the AV room, approaching dusk. Casting a sideways glance at Shibuki, who kept yawning as he woke up from his deep sleep, Kayoko talked to Tomoki first.

“Why?”

That was quite a difficult question to answer.

Currently there seemed to be two types of diving: high diving and springboard diving. High diving was diving off of a five-meter, seven and a half-meter, or ten-meter platform, and springboard diving was diving using the elasticity of a one-meter or three-meter springboard.

Tomoki hated springboard diving. He didn’t like the wobbliness, the feeling of the unsteady board beneath his feet, and he couldn’t get used to it no matter what. He was incompatible with the springboard. Originally, he was drawn to diving from the concrete dragon, so if possible, he only trained for the high dive to perform at competitions. He requested that when he was a first-year middle schooler, and Coach Nakanishi had agreed that was one type of strategy as well.

Originally, springboard and high diving required completely different techniques, and since long ago, China had trained distinct specialists for both springboard and high diving. In Japan, where divers were on the lower stratum of athletes, they had the existing condition where only a small handful of influential divers had to bear the burden of many different skills. But in truth, that system of allotments made practice more efficient, and there was the merit of being able to train and aim for just one event at competitions.

“Besides, Coach Nakanishi said it’s okay to do the springboard once I’m older…”

Kayoko unexpectedly agreed with the words of the former coach as he said it back then.

“Certainly, compared with the springboard dive which is used to say things about your career, the high dive is better for young people with their small and springy bodies. If you’re going to bet everything on the high dive for the qualifying trials, I’ll cooperate with you, provided that you single-mindedly bet on a performance of a certain level.”

“Performance of a certain level?”

“The forward 3½ somersaults.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t remember? I talked about it before I went to Aomori.”

Forward 3½ somersaults. That sounds familiar…Tomoki suddenly recalled those inconceivable words.

“Why can’t middle schoolers do 3½ somersaults? Because they are forbidden from diving off the ten-meter at junior competitions. Of course, there are other reasons, but I believe that is the biggest one. But, there are some odd loopholes for this rule.”

“Loopholes?”

“FINA of course had banned elementary and middle schoolers from diving off the ten-meter at competitions. But, that rule only applies to junior competitions. In other words, even elementary and middle schoolers could dive from the ten-meter on the same conditions as the other participants at non-junior competitions. Even so, such competitions are usually at the level of the Japanese Championship.”

“Huh?”

“And the qualifying trials in July isn’t a junior competition…so that means…”

“Wait a minute,” Tomoki interrupted the impetuous Kayoko. “Stop springing that on me so suddenly…the flight time from a seven-meter (1) and a ten-meter is definitely completely different, but it’s not so big that I can do another somersault, right? You can’t do something like 5½ somersaults off a fifteen-meter, either.”

“It’s a bad habit of yours to think something is impossible before you even start it. You never know how something will turn out until you give it a try. Everything starts from now on.”

“From now on…the qualifying trials are only four months away.”

“And the Olympics are only a bit more than a year away. That’s why.”

“That’s why?”

“You’ve certainly grown rapidly these past few months. But, for this moment there’s still a lot of people at the top. At a competition where middle and high schoolers from all over the country are competing fiercely against each other, how will Sakai Tomoki’s diving stand out? With 3½ somersaults. If you decide to count yourself among the very few middle school students who could do a successful 3½, the judges will acknowledge you. That kind of impression always has an effect on the scoring.”

Tomoki felt squashed by that strong gaze pinned on him. She’s serious. This woman is seriously trying to make me do 3½ somersaults.

He imagined excelling at the qualifying trials, able to successfully do 3½ somersaults. That would be an awesome, proud moment. He’d cleanly cutting through the water, and excite the spectators. A storm of applause. An unprecedented pleasure!

Sure enough, next he imagined failing the 3½ somersaults. That would be an extremely awful, disappointing moment. His body swells red from hitting the water, and cold eyes pour into him from the spectator seats. A drizzle of applause. Unprecedented humiliation…

“Are you doing it?”

At the moment Kayoko pressed him to make a decision, his successful self and his failing self disappeared from Tomoki’s head. In that moment, something more instinctual than determination, something unexplainable welled up inside of him, and Tomoki’s head bobbed vertically.

“I’ll do it.”

It might have been the voice of his own body that had had many painful practices up until then. Contrary to his mind, his body wanted to test Tomoki’s potential.

“I will cooperate with you then.”

Kayoko smiled, satisfied, and then turned towards Shibuki, who was still rubbing sleep from his eyelids.

“Okitsu-kun, you too. For the qualifying trials, you will also focus on the high dive, since you’ve never stepped onto a springboard.”

“Please do whatever you want,” Shibuki responded indifferently. “But, don’t forget about our contract.”

“I will keep our promise.”

“It’s a contract.”

After that curt exchange, Shibuki rose like an elephant that had finished its long nap, and quickly left the room. Kayoko’s eyes looked unusually tired as she stared at his retreating figure.

Kayoko and Shibuki. What exactly is the contract between them?

Tomoki felt something like a strange swell of fate as Shibuki left the AV room.

Kayoko had appeared just as the MDC was about to be destroyed, and now Shibuki appeared. Something was going to happen.

Will I be able to go along with that big wave, or will I be left behind?

Three and a half somersaults. That was the new trial imposed on Tomoki.

Everything might depend on its success.

“Hello, Sakai-kun?”

He hadn’t heard from Miu in a while, and tonight’s was the first phone call in a long time.

“Ah…Miu, I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

After coming out of the bathroom, Tomoki happened to be near the phone and picked it up, and suddenly tilted his head to one side.

Something feels different than usual.

But, he didn’t know what it was.

“It’s been a while, Tomo-kun, are you doing well?”

“The same as usual.”

“Is diving hard for you right now?”

“It’s still the same. Well, nowadays there’s many different kinds of things.”

“Still just different kinds of things?”

Miu’s giggle spilled out of the receiver. It was a sound like a child trying to resist being tickled. If he confessed that he was actually aiming for the Olympics, would this laughter fit that perfectly? Or would it get even stronger?

“I’ll talk about it soon. The more I talk about it, the realer it becomes.”

“Well then, I’ll listen to it soon.”

Miu didn’t pursue it further, and began to talk about things that happened at school and about her friends. But, the thought that there was something strange didn’t leave Tomoki’s head until he hung up.

There was always a forced feeling attached to Miu. The conversation topics she brought up were forced, and she acted with a forced cheerfulness. But somehow, that same forcedness felt different tonight.

“Well, it’s already late, so I’ll see you later.”

After a few minutes of conversation, it was surprisingly Miu who tried to hang up first, but Tomoki quickly cut in with, “Ah, just a moment.”

“Eh, what is it?”

“Is there something going on?”

“What?”

“No…if there’s nothing, then it’s fine.”

There was the brief sound of her breath being sucked in. After a silence of nearly five seconds, Miu finally spoke again.

“There’s nothing at all.”

However, Tomoki was more concerned about the five seconds of silence than her reply.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong.

Even after saying goodbye and hanging up, he felt anxious from that “something” and didn’t move from the spot. Tomoki, who was standing still next to the phone like a faithful dog, headed for the open door with the phone in his hand, when he taken aback to suddenly seeing Hiroya there.

Those first words—Miu, who always called him Tomo-kun, started her phone call tonight with something else.

“Hello, Sakai-kun?”

Translation Notes

1. A friendly reminder that seven-meter is just what divers say for the 7.5 meter platform

Next time on DIVE!!: I demand a spinoff novel on Shiraha.

[balsamina]

✖ — a repressed memory ✈ — an eye-opening memory

✈ — an eye-opening memory

He’s gone, they tell her. Repeatedly, over and over, with sickeningly gentle and sad voices, as if it will make more sense to her this time. As if Mohn is dead and she is a widow, prostrate and unreasonable with grief. As if she is a child who needs a simple concept explained to her. When she demands a better explanation from those who were with him last, they can come up with none. He’s just gone. We don’t know where or why, he just– disappeared!

But… he left something.

Notes. He left piles of notes, along with the creature he’d dubbed Cosmog. Having been found near death where Mohn was seen last, the latter had been returned to the labs to recuperate. Lusamine, meanwhile, spends hours pouring over the notes.

They’re incomplete, but full of the loving detail typical of Mohn’s work. There are illustrations, descriptions of behavior, minute by minute observations. It’s akin to the work of a Pokemon behaviorist, but it doesn’t match any Pokemon she’s ever seen. Looking at Mohn’s sketches, the closest comparison Lusamine can think to make is to a male Frillish. But this is something entirely different– surely one of his Ultra Beasts.

Finally, she has a lead and not an excuse. This is what he was studying. This is what lead him to connect to that wormhole. This is what took him–

“Father isn’t coming back, is he?”

The folder nearly goes flying out of her hands at the interruption. She swivels her head to look over her shoulder, and– it’s Gladion, standing in his pajamas in the doorway.

“Gladion!” she says, her voice an octave too high. She takes a steadying breath and reclaims her stern mother voice, pointedly ignoring his question. “Oh, Gladion… You scared me. What are you doing up? Go back to bed this instant, young man.”

He stays where he is, stubborn as ever. “Mother…”

There’s a sadness in his voice and his face that makes her heart ache. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him look so lost.

“Oh… Oh.” She sets the folder aside and turns her chair around, beckoning to him with her arms outstretched. “Come here, love.”

He does, letting her hold him and smooth back his wild blonde hair.

“Now why are you saying awful things like that?” she asks gently. “Of course he’s coming back. I would never lie to you.” Pulling away just enough to look at him, she searches his eyes. “Did someone tell you that he wasn’t?”

“No.” Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, he refuses to meet her gaze. “No, but I heard some of the researchers talking, and…”

Lusamine pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Disgusting. She would have hoped her staff would be intelligent– or just sensible enough to know not to discuss something like that where her children could hear. Then again, this was Gladion, who was crafty and curious like she was when she was his age, and prone to weaseling his way into places he shouldn’t have been in in the first place. Perhaps she ought to make a rule against discussing Mohn’s disappearance at all on the premises, and promptly fire anyone who fails to comply.

“Now, Gladion, you know it’s not nice to eavesdrop…” she scolds. When she sees the guilty look flash across Gladion’s face, she takes him gently by the shoulders and lowers her voice to a secretive whisper. “And it’s a waste when it’s done on liars.”

He blinks at her smile. She can already tell he won’t be satisfied with just that.

“Your father…” she starts again, carefully. “What I told you is still true. He’s on a trip for research. But… something happened, and he’ll need some help getting back. You remember.”

He gives a slow nod. He does remember– but this time it isn’t nearly as comforting. Before, she had said that Father was just going to be late. He had been held up by some problem. But she had never mentioned Father needing… “Help?”

“Mm-hm. That is where your mother comes in!” She puts on a proud, self-assured smile. “I’m going to take care of it. What I need from you is for you to be patient for just a little while longer, and be extra brave for your sister, hm? That is your job. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, Gladion?”

“But–”

“Won’t you?”

There was a time Gladion admired her so much that he thought her capable of most anything. Judging by the lingering doubt in his eyes, he’s outgrown that way of thinking. Still, he nods, opting to trust her once more. “… Yes, Mother.”

His reply is hesitant (Lusamine sees the doubt, the uncertainty, and it makes her heart ache again), but it will have to do. He won’t have to doubt for much longer, after all. She breathes another sigh.

“There’s a good boy. So strong and brave, my Gladion…” She combs back his hair again before planting a kiss atop his head. She waits until he gives her a smile to turn her chair back around. “Now go get some rest. I have just a little more work to do before I can join you.”

Gladion takes one last uncertain look at her back and the papers piled up around her. They shine ghostly white in the light from her desk lamp and seem to tower over her when she hunches back over the folder. Any moment, he thinks, they will crash down and swallow her up. He goes back to bed.

✖ — a repressed memory

When she first makes contact with the Ultra Beast herself, it is on Alola’s Route 9, within the cavern known as Diglett’s Tunnel. She is alone, save for the Bewear standing faithfully at her side– and, of course, the creature, which hovers silently before her, tentacles slowly swaying back and forth. It looks just like Mohn’s illustrations.

She’s filled with rapturous joy. She’s done it! She’s done it! But the connection between worlds is unstable at best, she knows. There isn’t time to celebrate the success of her experiment, and she finds it hard to even smile as she watches the creature begin to drift aimlessly through the air, reaching its tentacles out toward nothing, as if searching for the rift that brought it to her. It reminds her of a lab Rattata scratching at the sides of its cage.

“Hello, Nihilego,” she attempts, speaking to it in the same gentle way she would any other scared Pokemon, or perhaps a frightened child. The beast whirls, then pauses, considering her. She manages a warm smile. “Or… whatever name it is you go by in your world. Nihilego is just the name Mohn gave you… It’s all I have, I’m afraid.”

The beast says nothing, does nothing. It’s then that she remembers with a sinking feeling that she has no idea what level of sentience this creature possesses, if any, let alone what understanding of human language it might have. It’s most likely that she might as well be speaking gibberish.

It has no eyes, but she can feel it staring. At the very least, it seems she has its attention. She tries again.

“He… He is why I wanted so desperately to meet you. He is why you’re here now! Why I… did this. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, the Nihilego shifts, raising a tentacle up toward its bell, and makes a noise. It sounds like the murmuring of a sleepy child, and, with its tentacles positioned where they are, it looks not unlike a long-haired youth pondering a complex question. Mohn’s notes had mentioned something about Nihilego’s behavior being reminiscent of a young girl, but Lusamine hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect from that.

Soon, the Nihilego lowers its one raised tentacle and, with a slow incline of its bell, produces another cry that sounds vaguely affirmative. Lusamine gives a laugh, short and clipped but full of fascination. It nodded! They’re communicating! If Mohn could see this…

“So you do? Mohn, he– He’s my husband. He went missing during an experiment– He was studying you! Your kind… I think your kind might have taken him. Into– that world. Your world. He called it Ultra Space.”

This time, the Nihilego doesn’t respond. Disheartened, Lusamine stops smiling. Still she continues, her voice becoming increasingly desperate with each word. She must sound like a madwoman, pleading with this creature that barely understands her words, but she can’t seem to stop.

“You took him… You took him, and I need him back. Give him back to me, won’t you? Or– Or, at the very least, show me how to get to your world, so I can find him myself!”

Again, nothing. Her voice elevates to a shout.

“Give him back! Give him back to me!”

The Nihilego flinches, shudders, and recoils from her in a burst of startlingly fast movement. Once it’s a good distance away, it goes back to grabbing at thin air with its tentacles, making that pathetic murmuring noise again. Guilt closes tight around Lusamine’s heart. She can almost hear her father chiding her like he did when she was a child trying to play with new Pokemon housed in the conservation area.

Look now, you scared it… You must be more patient, schätzchen. Do try to think of how it must feel, hm? All alone in a strange, new place it’s never seen before…

But there isn’t time for her to ease her way into the beast’s heart by tossing it food from afar and soothing it with gentle, coaxing words like she would a conservatory Pokemon. Its form is already flickering, the tethers keeping it in this world already loosening.

“Then… you leave me no choice. I can’t let you go back home yet. I’m sorry, sweet beast.” She signals her Bewear with a solemn nod and a sweep of her hand. “Petunia, darling.”

Instantly, Petunia rushes forward and lunges, swinging her powerful arms with the intent of knocking the creature out of the air. When she lands the first strike, the screech the Nihilego gives sounds like the scream of a child. Hearing it makes Lusamine’s stomach turn, and for a moment, she can’t bear to look.

That moment is all it takes for the Nihilego to get close. She doesn’t manage to see how, but when she looks up again, the beast is beside her– and its tentacles are on her arm. It is not a restrictive grip, but a delicate touch that pulls her imperceptibly closer, as if it were about to lead her in a dance.

And then the pain comes. It’s sharp, intense, paralyzing; Lusamine chokes back a cry.

Before she loses consciousness (and before the Nihilego finally vanishes entirely), she feels it staring at her again. It has no facial features to emote with, but there is something almost guilty about the unintelligible whispers that leave it as it plucks its tentacles from her skin one by one. Maybe if it could speak like a human, it would have said, I’m sorry, just as she had. Or maybe not.

She doesn’t dwell on it, or rather can’t. Instead, she sinks down, down, to where the stinging pain can’t reach and her mind is buzzing pleasantly.