#a place to stretch possibilities and explore without confrontation

[doing-downtime-hero-shit]

Interesting body feelings are happening.

And. Interesting situations happened in the last few weeks that May Need To Be Addressed.

Also. Unfortunately/fortunately(?) IRL friends have found A Blog of mine that I was partially addressing things on and now I am nervous about it. At the same time. I do not want to hide it from them? But also also. History says hide that. Hide it away from everyone. Including all parts of yourself. Do not look. Turn away and continue on.

But more and more, that is not working very well? And I know it is a flavour of disfunction and 'probably need a doctor about it' but.... well Fear. And the worry it is a lie. The worry it is uncaring, unkind, and false.

Disappointing reality~ ah well. Been there before, will be again, it will continue on eventually

New things have popped up that have never been. At least not in the flavour they are now. As far as I know.

Interesting choices. Admonishments.

As said, it will continue on eventually. Things continue regardless of if the choice to keep pace is made. Catch up is always a game that is on the table.

[bettelaboure]

⊹ No going back ⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

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• sequel to “Between the Spotlight and Shadows”

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⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: past negative sexual experiences, slow burn / sexual tension

⊹ Summary: after weeks of avoiding Seung-Hyun out of embarrassment and fear of ruining their friendship, she finds herself alone in the dance studio—only for him to confront her, refusing to let her run from what they shared

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The neon glow of Seoul flickers through the windows of the dance studio, casting long shadows against the mirrored walls. You move through the routine without thought, letting the music guide you, your body flowing in a rhythm that feels like second nature. And yet, no matter how many times you go through the steps, no matter how much you lose yourself in the movement, your mind always drifts back to him.

Seung-Hyun.

It’s been weeks since that night. Weeks since he had touched you, kissed you, unraveled you in ways you never thought possible. And yet, instead of facing him, instead of allowing yourself to explore what this new, unfamiliar connection between you could be, you ran.

You avoided him at rehearsals, made excuses whenever the group went out, and kept your interactions strictly professional. You convinced yourself it was for the best—that whatever happened that night was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. That your friendship wasn’t meant to survive the weight of whatever was brewing between you.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

The way he made you feel that night… It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. It terrified you how easily he had read you, how effortlessly he had undone years of self-doubt with his hands, his mouth, his voice whispering against your skin.

And now? Now you were here, alone in the studio, trying to dance away the memory of his touch.

You spin, your breath heavy, your body slick with sweat, when the door clicks open.

You freeze.

In the reflection of the mirror, Seung-Hyun leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes locked onto you.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he says, voice low, unreadable.

Your pulse stutters. You weren’t prepared for this—not now, not when you’re still trying to sort through the mess of emotions that have consumed you since that night.

“I—I was just finishing up,” you say quickly, reaching for your water bottle, avoiding his gaze.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let you slip away so easily.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

It’s not a question.

You inhale sharply, gripping the bottle tighter. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes snap up to his in the mirror, his reflection unreadable, but his voice holds no anger—just quiet determination.

He pushes off the door, stepping closer, his gaze pinning you in place. “Talk to me.”

You shake your head, looking away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?” He takes another step, and then another, until he’s close enough that you can feel the heat of him behind you. “Because I think there is.”

Your body betrays you. Even without touching you, his presence alone ignites something deep in your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to be strong, to not crumble the way you did that night.

“I—I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silence stretches between you before he finally speaks. “Is that what you think happened?”

You nod, your throat tight. “We crossed a line, Seung-Hyun. And now… I don’t know how to go back.”

He exhales slowly, and then, just like that night, his fingertips ghost along your bare arm. The touch is light—barely there—but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

“What if I don’t want to go back?”

Your eyes fly open, meeting his in the mirror. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt. Only certainty.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

He steps closer, his hands finding your waist, grounding you. His voice is low, intimate. “You think I regret that night? That I regret touching you, making you feel good?”

A shiver runs through you at his words.

“I don’t,” he continues, his breath warm against your neck. “Not for a second.”

You swallow hard, your heart slamming against your ribs. “But our friendship—”

He turns you then, his hands firm on your hips as he spins you to face him.

“Do you really think I wanted to be just friends with you?”

His words knock the air from your lungs.

Your lips part, but before you can answer, he steps even closer, erasing the space between you. His hands slide up your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch burning through the thin fabric of your tank top.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of your hip. “But I waited. Because I needed you to be ready.”

Your breath stutters as his hands skim higher, his fingers grazing your ribs, your pulse hammering beneath your skin.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me, and I’ll walk away.”

But you can’t.

Because despite your fears, despite your hesitations, the truth is undeniable.

You want him.

You’ve always wanted him.

And when his lips finally claim yours, slow and deep, you know there’s no going back.

The moment Seung-Hyun’s lips meet yours, everything else fades. The walls of the dance studio, the faint echo of music from the speakers, even the hesitation that has kept you away from him—all of it dissolves in the heat of his touch.

His kiss is slow at first, testing, coaxing. His lips mold to yours with practiced ease, a soft inhale slipping past his nose as he deepens it, his hands framing your face as if you’re something delicate, something he doesn’t want to scare away. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, a silent reassurance, a reminder that he isn’t going anywhere.

Your hands tremble as they find purchase against his chest, his body solid beneath your fingertips. His heartbeat thrums under your touch, steady and sure, anchoring you in place. And when his tongue sweeps against your lower lip, teasing, you part for him, a soft sigh escaping as he takes the invitation.

The shift is gradual but undeniable. The gentle, tentative exploration melts into something deeper, hungrier. His fingers slip into your hair, tilting your head just so as he drinks you in, his body pressing closer, heat radiating from every inch of him. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he’s barely holding onto, and it sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

Then, just as suddenly as he takes, he gives. He slows, letting the kiss linger, drawing it out, savoring the taste of you like he has all the time in the world. He nips at your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, whispering your name like it’s something sacred.

You barely register when he starts moving, guiding you backward until the cool surface of the mirror presses against your back. His hands slide down, gripping your hips, fingers flexing as if he’s memorizing the shape of you. He kisses you again, deeper this time, his body slotting against yours, warmth and need coiling between you like a slow-burning fire.

And then—he pulls back, just enough to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen from kissing you, his breath uneven. But his voice, when he speaks, is soft.

“You don’t have to run from me.”

Your chest tightens. “I wasn’t—”

He shakes his head, silencing you with another kiss, this one softer, more patient. His fingers skim up your sides, tracing over the fabric of your tank top, sending a ripple of goosebumps across your skin.

“I don’t want to be just another mistake you try to forget.” His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I meant what I said. That night… I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

Your body tenses at the memory, and suddenly, you’re not in the studio anymore. You’re back in that dimly lit dressing room, the air thick with something unspoken, the space between you charged with anticipation.

He touches you like you’re something precious, his fingers gliding over your skin with reverence. He kisses you like he wants to rewrite every disappointing experience you’ve ever had, like he’s trying to prove a point without words.

The way he worships you with his hands, his lips, his voice—it’s unlike anything you’ve ever known.

He makes you feel special. Wanted. Beautiful.

And when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, when he strokes you with slow, deliberate intent, he watches you—studies every hitch of your breath, every tremor in your limbs, every sigh that escapes your lips.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, the curve of your throat.

Heat pools low in your stomach, your body arching into his touch, and for the first time, you understand.

Pleasure isn’t just about the act.

It’s about trust.

It’s about him.

You shudder at the memory, your hands fisting in Seung-Hyun’s shirt as the present moment rushes back in. He notices—of course he notices—and his expression softens.

“You’re thinking about it,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “About that night.”

You nod, throat tight. “I just… I didn’t know how to face you after.”

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours again. “You don’t have to be afraid of this—of us.” His fingers trail down your arm, slow and soothing. “I’m not going to rush you. I never will.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice.

And then, with the same patience he’s always shown you, he shifts his touch—his hands sliding from your waist to your back, then lower, gripping your thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, guiding your legs around his hips as he carries you across the room.

You don’t realize where he’s taking you until you feel the cool leather of the studio couch against your back. He kneels between your legs, his hands gentle as they skim up and down your thighs, grounding you.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.

Your breath hitches. “Seung-Hyun—”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and tender, his lips lingering against yours before moving lower—over your jaw, your throat, down to the place where your pulse thrums wildly beneath his touch.

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispers against your skin. “The way you deserve.”

And when his hands slide beneath your shirt, when his lips follow, you let yourself believe him.

[moonlitsmile]

*：･ﾟ✧ 𝐀 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲*：･ﾟ✧

Chapter two

october 1st.

-

The next morning Luna yawned softly as she began to wake up. Rubbing her eyes gently before cuddling with the soft Teddy bear next to her. She stretched her arms and slowly got out of bed, feeling the cool floor beneath her feet. The memories of the previous night lingered in her mind, giving her a small sense of comfort as she prepared to face another day. She shuffled over to the window, gently pulling back the curtain to reveal the world outside. The rain had stopped, but still pretty gloomy out. Luna took a deep breath, letting the fresh scent of rain fill her lungs. She loved the way the world smelled after a storm—clean, renewed, and full of possibility. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that today could be different, that maybe something good was waiting for her just around the corner. With a renewed sense of determination, Luna headed to the bathroom to freshen up. She splashed cold water on her face, the shock of it waking her up fully. After brushing her teeth and running a brush through her long light brown hair, she'd always loved her hair. It fell just right below her hips. she felt a bit more like herself. and made her way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was still as sparse as ever, she rummaged through the cabinets. But couldn't fin any pancake mix or anything. All the cereal stale. She sighed softly. Another day without groceries. She needed to head to the store, she didn't have much money, maybe only 20 bucks but that was enough for some frozen waffles or something. Luna went into the living room, where Sprinkle was already awake and eager for attention. She set her bear on the table and opened the cage, letting the bunny hop out to explore. "Good morning, Sprinkle," she said softly, stroking his fur as he nuzzled her hand. The simple act of caring for her pet brought her a sense of purpose and joy. As she sat in the living room, Luna thought about the day ahead. It was a Saturday. She decided to make the most of it by spending time with Sprinkle and working on her art.

Around 7:30, Luna heard the familiar creak of the front door opening. Her heart sank as she realized that her mom was home. The brief moments of peace and happiness she had felt that morning were quickly overshadowed by the tense atmosphere that always engulfed the house whenever her mom was around. Luna braced herself for whatever unpredictable mood her mom might be in, hoping with all her might that today would be one of the better days.“Luna," her mom yelled grumpily from the entrance, her voice echoing through the hallway. "Why's the house such a fucking mess?" Her tone was accusatory and sharp, a stark contrast to the fleeting serenity Luna had experienced earlier. Luna could feel the anxiety rising within her, knowing that any small thing could set her mom off when she was hungover or drunk, and turn the day into a nightmare. She took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for the confrontation that seemed inevitable. Luna winced at her mother's harsh tone but quickly stood up to tidy the living room. "I'm sorry, Mom," she replied quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. She knew it was pointless to argue, so she focused on cleaning up, hoping to avoid any further confrontation. As she picked up scattered papers and straightened the cushions on the couch, she could feel her mother's eyes boring into her back, filled with disapproval. Her mom walked into the kitchen, muttering under her breath about the state of the house. Luna could hear the clattering of dishes and the slamming of cabinet doors, each sound amplifying the tension that already filled the air. Luna moved quickly, trying to make the living room look presentable. She gathered her art supplies and tucked them away neatly, then picked up Sprinkle and gently placed him back in his cage. "I'll play with you later, Sprinkle," she whispered, giving the bunny a soft pat on the head. With the living room now in order, Luna cautiously made her way to the kitchen to see if her mom needed any help. She found her mother standing in front of the open fridge, glaring at the empty shelves. "Where's all the food?" her mom demanded, her voice rising in anger. Luna hesitated, knowing that any answer she gave would likely lead to more frustration. "We ran out," she said softly. "I was planning to go to the store today." Her mom's face twisted with irritation. "You should have gone earlier. What do you expect us to eat now?" she spat. Luna remained silent, not wanting to escalate the situation. She knew her mom's anger wasn't really about the lack of food; it was about everything else—her job, her relationships, her life. And Luna was an easy target.

"I'll go now," Luna offered, hoping to defuse the tension. she scurried to her room to grab her teddy and the 20 dollar bill quickly before her mom saw, and headed for the door, her heart heavy with the weight of her mother's disappointment. As she stepped outside, the cool air hit her face, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The streets were quiet, the remnants of the morning rain still glistening on the pavement. Luna walked to the side of the house where her bike was, the brown basket in the front where she always put honey, which was her teddy bear. The old light pastel but slightly chipped bike, she hopped on it, peddling out the dirt driveway and to the road in front of her house. Beginning to bike to the nearest grocery store that was about 15 minutes away. Once she got there, She picked up a basket and started browsing the aisles, carefully selecting items that would last them the week. As she placed a box of frozen waffles and a few cans of vegetables into her basket, she thought about how different life could be if her mom was more stable, more loving. She only had so little of stuff, trying to pick out somewhat of a variety but it was hard with only so little money. Once she finished, she walked down the isle. She was in a light purple T-shirt that matched her lavender rimmed glasses, the T-shirt fell to her hips and black shorts fell to her lower thighs. While walking down the isle she saw a man holding a case of beer. He had dark curly hair, wearing all black. Black leather jacket, black shirt, black jeans, black boots, and sunglasses. She couldn't help but be curious and quiet fascinated the way he was dressed. She thought it was cool. Watching as the man turned, her soft brown eyes meeting his dark firm ones. He seemed mysterious. She just smiled sweetly, being friendly. She walked to the cashier lane. Gently putting the basket on the checkout counter. Making small talk with the cashier. She noticed the man she just saw was behind her. "30.17 is your total." The woman cashier had said to her. Lunas gaze softened. Looking back at the cashier. This was embarrassing for her. "oh.." she said softly. Trying to find the right word to say, "i- I uh don't- I don't have enough for that" she said gently. The cashier shrugged. "Well- um- i-is there any way to- to-" she stuttered out. Always stumbling and stuttering when she felt anxious. She couldn't find the right thing to say. She looked back at the people behind her in line. "It's fine- just I'll get them another time." She said gently.

slash.

Slash watched intently as the young girl in front of him struggled with the groceries, clearly not having enough money to pay for them. His dark brown eyes studied her closely, taking in her sweet appearance and gentle nature. He observed her as she eventually gave up, saying she would come back for the groceries another time. Now, his curiosity was piqued; there was something about her sweet words and generous nature that intrigued him deeply.

Clearing his throat, he decided to offer his assistance. "Need help?" he asked, his deep voice resonating as he looked down at the young girl in front of him. She glanced up shyly, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and hesitation. "No-no, it's fine," she said gently, smiling shyly and modestly. Slash was not one to be easily deterred. "No, I insist. I can't have you going home without any groceries," he said with a gentle grin, his demeanor both kind and resolute. Turning to the cashier, he instructed firmly, "Just put her groceries with my beer." "Thank you sir, I really appreciate it" she said sweetly. Softly and generously smiling at him. "Don't mention it," Slash replied, his tone warm but firm. As he paid for the groceries, Luna felt a sense of relief wash over her. She thanked him once more before gathering her bags and heading out of the store, feeling lighter and more hopeful than she had in a long time.

Outside, the cool air greeted her, and she took a moment to collect her thoughts. The encounter with the man had been unexpected, yet comforting. She loaded her groceries into the basket of her bike and began the ride back home, her mind wandering to the mysterious man who had shown her such kindness. The journey back seemed shorter than usual, as if the weight of her worries had lessened. When she arrived home, she was greeted by the sight of Sprinkle eagerly awaiting her return. Luna quickly put away the groceries, making a mental note of how each item would be used throughout the week. The simple act of stocking the kitchen brought her a sense of accomplishment and control over her situation. Her mother, however, was still in a foul mood. As Luna entered the living room, she could hear her mother's voice from the kitchen, still muttering complaints. Luna took a deep breath, deciding to stay out of her mother's way for the rest of the day. She picked up Sprinkle and headed to her room, craving the solace it offered.

In her room, Luna set Sprinkle down on her bed and pulled out her sketchbook. Drawing had always been her escape, a way to channel her emotions and find a sense of peace. She found herself sketching the mysterious man from the store, his dark attire and kind eyes etched into her memory. As her pencil moved across the paper, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Hours passed, and the tension in the house remained, but Luna managed to stay absorbed in her artwork. The sun began to set, casting a warm glow through her window. She looked at her finished drawing, feeling a sense of satisfaction. It wasn't just a portrait; it was a reminder that kindness could come from unexpected places, and that there were good people in the world, even if they were few and far between. As the evening wore on, Luna prepared a simple dinner with the groceries she had bought. She set a plate for her mother, hoping it might ease some of the tension. Her mother ate in silence, the atmosphere still heavy but slightly less oppressive. Luna picked at her food, her thoughts drifting back to the day's events and the man who had made a difference.

After dinner, Luna retreated to her room once more, feeling a mix of exhaustion and quiet hope. She lay in bed, Sprinkle nestled beside her, and allowed herself to dream of better days. The kindness she had experienced that day gave her a glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, things could change. As sleep overtook her, Luna held onto that hope, believing that tomorrow might bring new opportunities and unexpected kindness, just like today had. And with that thought, she drifted into a peaceful slumber, ready to face whatever challenges the new day might bring.

[homeimprovement31311]

What Kind Of Room Has No Doors Or Windows

Let’s dive into the realm of possibilities when it comes to solving the riddle of what kind of room has no doors or windows. Picture its cozy interior, with no need for traditional entrances or exits.

For More Information: What Kind Of Room Has No Doors Or Windows

Or perhaps our answer lies in a more fantastical setting – a mushroom house! Imagine a charming abode nestled in the forest, inviting you inside without the need for conventional openings.

Exploring these different avenues opens up our minds to creative thinking and new perspectives. Each possibility offers insight into how we approach problems and challenges in our daily lives. Let’s keep unraveling this enigma together.

A. A Mushroom

Picture a room with no doors or windows, where something peculiar resides. Could it be a mushroom? This unexpected answer might seem odd at first glance, but riddles are known for their clever twists and turns.

Imagine the cozy yet mysterious nature of a mushroom, tucked away in its own little world. Its rounded shape and earthy scent bring a sense of whimsy to the enigmatic room without openings.

Consider how a mushroom embodies resilience and growth, despite being confined within four walls. Its ability to thrive in darkness symbolizes hope and adaptability in challenging circumstances.

Reflect on the surprising simplicity of this solution – sometimes the most unexpected answers hold the key to unraveling complex puzzles. In the realm of riddles, thinking outside the box is often rewarded with delightful revelations that spark curiosity and creativity.

B. A Mushroom House

Imagine a whimsical world where mushrooms sprout houses with colorful roofs that glisten in the sunlight. These mushroom houses have no doors or windows, yet they invite you to step inside and discover their magical interiors. The idea of a mushroom house sparks creativity and wonder, transporting us to a place where imagination knows no bounds.

Inside these unique dwellings, one can envision cozy rooms adorned with soft moss carpets and delicate fairy lights twinkling above. The walls breathe life as tiny creatures scurry about, adding to the enchanting atmosphere of this mysterious abode.

A mushroom house symbolizes a connection to nature and the fantastical realms we dream about in our subconscious minds. It challenges us to think outside the box and embrace the unconventional beauty found in unexpected places.

C. A Prison Cell

A Prison Cell. It’s a place of confinement, with walls that seem to close in on you from all sides. The lack of windows or doors creates a sense of isolation and despair. In this room, freedom is but a distant memory as you grapple with the reality of your situation.

The cold, hard floor beneath your feet serves as a constant reminder of your imprisonment. The dim lighting casts eerie shadows across the walls, adding to the atmosphere of gloom and uncertainty. As you sit alone in this confined space, time seems to stretch endlessly before you.

Every sound echoes off the unforgiving surfaces, amplifying the feeling of being trapped within these unyielding confines. Thoughts swirl around in your mind as you contemplate what led you to this moment.

Despite its grim nature, a prison cell can also serve as a metaphor for personal reflection and growth. It challenges us to confront our mistakes and strive for redemption amidst adversity.

The Correct Answer: A Mushroom

Think about how mushrooms grow in dark and damp places. They don’t have traditional entrances like doors or windows but create their own unique environment. A mushroom symbolizes mystery and hidden beauty within simplicity.

By identifying a mushroom as the answer, we are challenged to think outside the box and explore unconventional possibilities. It encourages us to see ordinary things in extraordinary ways, sparking creativity and imagination.

The idea of a mushroom as a room without doors or windows opens up endless interpretations and sparks curiosity. It reminds us that sometimes the most unexpected solutions hold the key to unlocking complex puzzles.

[jaegckerman]

Notes in Constellations

~ This fic was inspired by the song of the same name by Chiodos ~ Description: Eren wasn't as oblivious as everyone thought - Mikasa's feelings for him were perfectly clear to him. However, it seemed that everyone around him was very oblivious to how he felt about his best friend... even if he could never let her know. Set in canonverse, leading to a slightly different way more smutty version of Chapter 123, but don't expect a happy ending. Tagging: @kirsteiiins because she's awesome. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7.6K CW: : Smut, I guess?; Angst; Mentions of death and violence; Manga spoilers! Link to AO3

I see her smile in her sleep I know that she's a dreamer I follow every move she makes

If you asked anyone in the Survey Corps, and even before that in the Scouts Regiment, everyone would have told you that Mikasa Ackerman was hopelessly in love with Eren Jaeger… which was too bad, since the boy seemed to have nothing but killing titans on his mind. He was constantly barking at her, taking her kindness for Mikasa simply being annoyingly overbearing, and didn’t shy away from snapping at her for it. Eventually, Armin tentatively came up to him one night and suggested he have a conversation with the girl to let her know that her affections were misplaced. Gently, Armin emphasized, knowing how much it would hurt her and how tactless his best friend tended to be. It made Eren blush furiously; he did run hotter than a normal human being due to his Titan powers, but he could have sworn his whole head was on fire. He was just glad that it was dark outside and his best friend’s keen eye couldn’t make out the color of his cheeks as Eren just hummed noncommittally during Armin’s speech, then scoffed at his words. He stammered something about how Mikasa only saw him as a brother, and changed the subject, with no intention of adhering to the blonde’s advice in any way, shape or form. Neither of them was sure who he was trying to convince.

I know that this is the last thing on your mind, Eren, but what you’re doing is unkind to her and Mikasa deserves better, Eren recalled Armin’s voice as he watched the girl in question, holding back a smile. Levi’s squad was traveling from Trost to the port, and with the railway still a few months away from being completed, they had to go by horse and camp out for the night in a cabin that belonged to Flegel Reeves. They were currently setting the table for dinner, and she was humming absentmindedly before she abruptly stopped and scurried off to the other side of the room… only to return with a bundle of flowers she had picked off the side of the forest path they had traversed early that morning – she was probably the only human on Earth who wasn’t scared of angering Levi; she just hopped off her horse, crouched down, and started plucking flowers from the ground while he snarked at her to stop “farting around” and get going, and Eren had to suppress a chuckle at the scene. He had almost forgotten about his own task of hunting down enough plates and mugs for the entire squad until she looked up at him, probably because she felt him staring. He hurriedly averted his eyes and turned his body back towards the stupidly high cabinet to hide his blush, stretching as he felt around the wooden boards and grabbing what felt like ceramic. With a triumphant little “hah!”, he pulled down a stack of plates and turned around only to find Mikasa watching him; he wondered for a second if he should maybe listen to Armin after all. She quickly shifted her own gaze, her usual stoic mask on, but he had still caught the look on her face just before that, and it was nothing short of… Adoring didn’t do it justice, but his vocabulary was limited when it came to matters of the heart. He suddenly realized just how domestic the scene was, and what that must be doing to her. While she may be as skilled as a hundred soldiers, and damn good at pretty much anything she did, he knew this was a piece of the kind of life she craved the most. Maybe he really was being a selfish, unkind monster in more ways than one.

Because as observant as they were when it came to Mikasa’s feelings for him, what Levi’s Squad never seemed to notice was the way his own heartbeat would pick up whenever she entered the room. They never noticed how his face flushed when her hands brushed his whenever she took pails of water or wooden boards or whatever else he carried from him to alleviate his burden in any way she could. They had no idea that he snapped at her, not because he was annoyed or still jealous of her abilities, but out of concern, since she was always so busy taking care of him and everyone else, she never took proper care of herself. None of them ever seemed to catch his longing stares and, thankfully, no one ever caught him in the dead of night, when his mind was consumed with the fantasies the sight of Mikasa provoked, and he convinced himself it was her hand or her tongue stroking his aching length.

Eren had taken over watch duties with Armin while she fell asleep next to the fire they had built, her need to be close to him overwhelming even her desire for a comfortable resting place. When she didn’t follow Sasha to the cabin and instead shut her eyes right where she was sitting, she had said she wanted to stay because she was cold and didn’t want to leave the heat of the flames. Of course, she never said it was because she wanted to stay with him, because she knew that he would inevitably argue with her, but Eren knew and decided to stay silent. He was so painfully aware that he would not have many more opportunities to see her look peaceful as he snuck glances at her sleeping form while Armin babbled on about something Onyankopon had told him about his home country’s landscape – he didn’t register a word his best friend was saying, and he felt bad, because he was sure it was as interesting and smart as anything Armin has ever said. However, all he could think about was how Mikasa’s sleeping position looked uncomfortable, so he bundled up his coat and made a makeshift bed on the ground for her. She squirmed and her eyes fluttered open for a second when he tried to lay her down gently, but she quickly fell back asleep, with a small smile on her face.

And no one knew just how much his heart ached at the sight, wishing he could give her everything she had always dreamed of, could always give her comfort, and peace and stability and, most importantly, all the love that was threatening to make his heart burst out of his chest. No one knew that he never openly and decisively rejected her, not because he really didn’t believe that she loved him like that, as he always argued when confronted, but because he could not bear the thought of her looking at another man the way she looked at him. He could not, for the life of him, reconcile with the idea that Mikasa, his Mikasa, would shed the mask and be soft and loving and devoted to someone else.

Well, when he turned to look back at Armin, his best friend gave him a smug smile, and maybe one person did know. But still, Armin had no idea how right he had been about Eren being unkind and undeserving… and yet, he couldn’t find it within himself to forgo his selfish desires completely. Not yet.

It's been a long, long night Say you're mine, say you're mine Can I keep you tonight?

He had no idea what had gotten into him. He had never planned on doing this – well, to be fair, he had definitely thought about it, or more like fantasized about how she would tell him that she wanted him, how he would crash his lips against hers, what they would taste like, what she would feel like in his arms, pressed against him…

But he had never planned on the words actually leaving his lips, hoping for an answer that would allow him to cross that line and leave everything behind once and for all. He was so, so tired already, and the fight hadn’t even started yet. And then Mikasa had come to him with her ice cream cone, her eyes shining like they used to when they would play-pretend being Armin’s mom and dad when they were children, and he had tasted the sweet treat that had just been in her mouth, and she had looked so lovely and soft and relaxed for once and… he knew, he could not leave her behind without exploring the possibility, without making completely sure whether his fantasies could actually become reality or not. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he would have the resolve to do what needed to be done with no regrets.

So when she came to find him, crying at the knowledge of what he had to do as he stared at the low light emitting from the refugee camp, knowledge that had been plaguing him for three years, feeling weak and exhausted beyond words, he couldn’t stop the awkward question from tumbling from his lips.

“What am I to you?”

As she blushed and her grey eyes started to shimmer despite the lack of light, he wondered if his own betrayed how much he wanted her to say he was… her everything, her most beloved, wanted her to ask him to follow her to the ends of the world, just the two of them. That she was his, and his alone. And in turn, he would take her hand and lead her away, away from all the war and death and show her that he had always been hers.

We dance around just like constellations You keep my body warm And we dance around just like constellations You're keeping me awake at night You make my body warm

Eren had known earlier that, had they not been interrupted, Mikasa might have elaborated on her answer. She might even have corrected herself, retracted the dreaded f-word that had left her lips, might have told him what he wanted to hear. Maybe she would have added that by “family”, she meant the type of family that husbands and wives made up. Or maybe he would have found the guts and the selfishness to fess up in spite of her answer. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be, and it seemed the path he was on was truly the only one available to him.

He would take what he could get before he began the hardest and last journey of his life, though. He indulged in one last night of fun with his friends and the refugees… The kindest strangers he had ever met, willingly sharing their limited supplies with them, and he knew he would crush them under his feet in just a few months. Thankfully, the liquor they were served helped a great deal in repressing that knowledge, at least for tonight.

And when his teal eyes blinked open sluggishly as he awoke from his drunken slumber, he indulged in the warm feeling of Mikasa pressed close to him. Her alcohol-addled breath came out in hot and steady puffs as it fanned across his cheek. When he turned his face to look at her, her lips were so close to his, and he had to close his eyes and swallow hard at the pain that the sight instilled in his racing heart. He clenched his fists against the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes once again, and an unbidden hiccup spilled from his lips, startling the black-haired beauty beside him awake. Silently, he cursed the lightness of her sleep before he twisted his head away from her.

“Eren…?” she murmured, her hand leaving his lapel to rub at her sleep-crusted eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the middle of the night. Go back to sleep, Mikasa…” he murmured, surprised and perturbed at how hoarse his voice sounded.

“We should go back to our beds. This isn’t good for your back.”

Her warmth from beside him disappeared as she gracefully stood up. He took a deep breath, willing the tears away, and took her outstretched hand to help him to his feet. The moment their hands touched, he felt something like an electric current pass through him, and by the quiet gasp she emitted, he was sure she must have felt it too. He looked down at her face, his eyes boring into hers, feeling and conveying an intensity of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in since that fateful medal ceremony. Mikasa simply stared back, the silence between them growing heavier, until he broke it with a soft, “c’mon, then,” and led her outside, never letting go of her hand.

And I fall for her, like snow from the sky Gracefully I land in her arms

They arrived in front of the room Kiyomi had organized for Mikasa. They all had plush, comfortable beds, but when she opened the door and turned on the electric lights, he saw the woman had decided to splurge on Mikasa specifically. Her bed was twice as big as his, and the décor looked both cozy and pricey, not almost bare like his room.

“Eren… would you come in for a second?” She looked down at the floor when she asked the question, shuffling her feet nervously. They still hadn’t let go of each other. Ignoring his, once again, racing heartbeat, he nodded and pulled her inside with him. They both sat on the bed and finally disentangled their hands.

“Eren, I’ve noticed, uhm…” She was nervous, and Eren really couldn’t blame her. He had never been the most pleasant person to have serious conversations with, and judging by her behavior, this was definitely going to be a serious conversation. He mentally steeled himself for all the lies he would probably have to tell her.

“What, Mikasa?” His tone was supposed to be harsh, but it came out soft, almost alluring, and seemed to encourage her to continue.

“I’ve noticed how… depressed you’ve been all day. And then, you asked me those questions and… are you sure you’re okay?”

Inhale slowly. Exhale even more slowly. Dig your nails into your palms until you bleed. Hurt yourself, just don’t hurt her, he reminded himself, because really, all he wanted to do was curl up in her lap and cry about how much he just wanted to stop existing, to find a way to escape all the pressure. He wanted to wail and scream about how unfair everything was. Instead, what he said was, “Of course I’m okay, Mikasa.”

He had never been good at repressing his emotions, but over the last three years, he had learned a lot.

“Why did you ask me those questions, though? It was so… unlike you.” She had started fiddling with her fingers, and he could see her cheeks had turned red again. He didn’t answer as he studied her delicate features, because he had no good one; he thought – hoped, really – the interruption would have been it, and she would pretend it never happened.

Suddenly, she turned her head to look him straight in the eyes, and despite the blush still staining her face, determination shone in those onyx irises. “Were you hoping for a different answer? Because I think you know –“

He hushed her with his lips before she could say anything else. He had no idea what came over him, but with the electric current running down his spine once more, with the gasp she emitted, the way she grasped at his shoulders and with how his hands automatically found the sides of her face, tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, taste her sweetness even more intensely, he couldn’t regret it or overthink it.

Just one more piece of heaven before he had to throw himself into hell. Was that too much to ask?

Mikasa suddenly pulled away, her lips swollen and eyes glazed over. “Eren, what – why – I…”

He put a finger to her mouth. “Just for tonight… can’t we just… be?” His eyes were the clearest green, with specks of blue intermingling, a glimmer of hope he thought he had lost forever reflected in them. Mikasa herself studied him with that special look reserved just for him, making his chest swell, and nodded.

So when he leaned in to kiss her once more, they silently decided talking could wait for the next day. Her hands wandered to his hair, longer than she had ever seen it, and pulled a little. A gasp escaped Eren’s lips and she took the opportunity to slide their tongues together, both of them moaning at the sensation. His fingers flew down to her waist to pull her closer as heat began to pool in his abdomen.

Their tongues danced as they fought for dominance, Mikasa’s intoxicating taste overwhelming Eren’s senses. Her hands wandered down from where they were still entangled in his hair to grapple at the buttons of his jacket, pulling it off his shoulders and throwing it… somewhere, neither of them cared. She caressed up and down his back, feeling the muscle ripple below the fabric of his thin shirt. Eren pulled Mikasa’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it lightly, and when a moan wandered from her mouth into his, another spark ran down his spine. He felt himself growing stiffer by the second, and without even thinking about it, he started playing with the buttons on Mikasa’s soft pink shirt, slowly working his way up as he opened them to reveal more of her skin.

“Eren…” she whispered against his mouth, causing him to pull back. Please don’t reject me now, he prayed silently, I need you so much, although what came out of his mouth was, “sorry, I never – is this okay? We can stop anytime…”

Her grey eyes were hooded, and she was almost on top of him, with how much closer he had pulled her, and she was a beautiful sight to behold, her upper body only clad in the pink shirt that had caught at her elbows and her bra, her chest heaving and her skin already flushed. She shook her head. “No, I…”

Suddenly, she was straddling his waist and pushed him down on the bed, shrugging out of her shirt and letting it fall to the floor behind them. “I’ve been wanting this for so long…” She took his hand, which he only now noticed was trembling, and ran it up her defined abs to her covered breast. Her voice was breathy, but her tone determined, when she continued. “Take me.”

Something inside of Eren snapped. With a growl, he pulled her down on top of him and, arms wrapped tightly around her, flipped them over so he was pressing her into the mattress with his entire weight. Their mouths clashed together, all initial insecurity replaced with hunger as they bit and sucked at each other’s lips, licked into each other’s mouths, exploring every millimeter they could reach. Eren’s clothed hips rutted against hers, and the only coherent thought in his mind was more, he needed more.His lips traveled to her neck, and he bit down experimentally, relishing in the moan Mikasa gifted him with.

“Do that again,” she whined, and he was happy to oblige, suckling and biting and eliciting the same response a few more times. He was painfully hard by now, and he moved on instinct when he made his way down her torso, continuing his ministrations. He pulled one of her breasts out of the confines of her bra, and licked over the pebbled, pink nipple.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her back lifting at the new sensation.

“Oh, you like that?” Eren grinned against her sternum as he made his way over to the other side, but her hand against his head stopped him.

“Wait-“ She forced him back on his knees as she sat up and reached behind her back. Eren was confused for a moment, until she pulled her arms free of the bra straps and let the garment join her shirt and his jacket. He was so busy staring at her beautiful chest, wondering if he should resist or succumb to the urge to bury his face in it, he barely registered when she murmured, “You too,” copying his movements from earlier as she unbuttoned his shirt, although she was doing it considerably faster than him. She stared at his newly exposed skin just as unabashedly as he had been looking at her, an expression of pure want etched onto her face.

The sight made Eren unfreeze from his position, pushing Mikasa to lay back down and letting his fingers graze over the soft mounds, not wasting a lot of time before he let his mouth join in. He squeezed and licked and sucked, alternating between each tit and catching the hard nubs between his teeth. He did his best to ignore the way his cock was throbbing, to ignore how badly he just wanted to bury and lose himself inside the gorgeous woman beneath him, how much he wanted to know which sounds of pleasure he could coax from her beautiful, moaning mouth when she was filled with him. Because more than that, he wanted her to enjoy herself. He couldn’t help feeling that, if he could just watch and listen to her come undone, he wouldn’t mind if he never found his own release.

With that thought, he trekked further south, the tip of his tongue tracing the dip in her abs until he reached the waistband of her skirt. He looked up at her for any sign she was uncomfortable after all, but all she did was smile and nod once more. “I said take me, and I meant it,” she panted, and without further ado, Eren pulled down both her skirt and underwear in one swift motion. He kept his eyes on her face, lest he lose all composure, as he rid himself of his own pants and boxers so there would be no more interruptions, no more barriers to overcome. Only then did he allow his eyes to wander.

The sight of strong, collected Mikasa laid bare in front of him did something to him. It wasn’t even just the way she took in his own naked body with so much desire, pupils dilating when they reached his throbbing length like she was starving for him – the knowledge that he was the only one who had ever seen her this vulnerable, the only one she trusted so much she would give herself over to him without a second thought, made him feel like he was on top of the world. It made his eyes sting, and his own appetite reached new heights. He found himself salivating as he pulled her legs over his shoulders and his head dived down to bury his face in the crease of her inner thigh. He peppered kisses up and down and back up before he became overwhelmed with holding back and let the flat of his tongue run up her slit. Her thighs tensed and she cried out, hands flying into his hair much like earlier, and that was all the encouragement he needed to keep going. He licked back down, to where she was dripping, and hardened the tip of his tongue to thrust it inside, pushing and licking in and out of her, relishing in her taste. Mikasa pulled on his hair as another whine left her lips, and he couldn’t hold back the groan escaping his own throat. His cock was literally aching for some friction, but he was sure he wouldn’t last once he was inside her if he touched himself now, so he ignored the urge to stroke himself. Instead, he moved his lips and tongue up a little to lick and suck on the little bundle of nerves above her entrance and let his fingers join in, circling her before he pushed one in slowly. It slipped in easily, her wet heat wrapped around the digit, and his length twitched between his legs, begging to replace it.

“Eren…!” she gasped, her hips starting to move in time with his finger and tongue. “More, please…”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” he teased breathlessly and added another finger, thrusting them in and out of her while he continued to lick and periodically suck on her clit. Her sweet smell and taste and the way she moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders, her legs clenching around him, was slowly chipping away at any semblance of self-control he was hoping to maintain.

“I’m – ah – not – Eren! Oh my God, Eren, I –“ She cried out, her hips lifting and her grip on his shoulders and around his fingers tightening as all the muscles in her body tensed. Eren continued to lick and finger her through her release, until she slumped back down, and her breathing started to slow. He pulled his fingers out of her and locked eyes with her as he lapped them clean off her juices, watching her flush deepen at the lewd action. He moved his body back up, caging her between his elbows and trapping her beneath him once more, and pushed his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself.

“I assume that was good?” he asked in between kisses.

“Unbelievable, but… I still want more,” she confessed, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. Her calloused hand reached down between them and found his cock, giving it a couple of experimental pumps.

“Don’t,” Eren gasped into her mouth. “I won’t last…”

“That’s okay…” Mikasa started, but Eren didn’t let her finish, ripping her hand off himself and slamming it into the mattress beside her head. He did the same thing with her other hand that sought to replace the touch, and held them there, interlacing their fingers.

“No, it’s not,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. He pressed his forehead against hers, and, with a softer voice, continued, “I want this to be perfect for you.” Their lips locked once again as he rubbed his length over her folds until it caught on her entrance, and he finally pushed inside of her. Green eyes clenched shut at the feeling of Mikasa’s silky warmth enveloping the head of his cock, and her fingers squeezed his hands at the intrusion. She broke their kiss with a drawn-out moan of Eren’s name.

With every ounce of self-restraint that he had left, Eren forced himself to slow down instead of just sinking into her completely in one hard motion, like he so desperately wanted to. He felt the way she sucked him in, inch by inch, to his bones, making him shudder and bury his face in her neck to muffle the pathetic whine he couldn’t hold back. His hips stilled when he finally bottomed out.

“Feels so good,” he choked out. “God, Mika, you’re so tight…”

Mikasa placed a kiss behind his ear and wrapped her legs around his waist. Next thing he knew, she thrust her hips up, making his cock move in her, and making Eren gasp again.

“Fuck me,” she breathed against the shell. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

Something feral awakened in Eren at her words, and much like earlier, he found himself growling as he pulled almost all the way out and thrust himself back in hard. Mikasa cried out and Eren felt her head turn away from him to the other side. “Like that?” he hissed, repeating the motion again and again and pushing her hands and forearms harder into the mattress. He pulled his head up to look at her and their eyes met, hers almost black with desire.

“Yes – yes – make me yours,” she sobbed. He swooped down to catch her lips in a kiss and began fucking into her fast and hard, letting his animalistic side take over. Her soft breasts were crushed against his chest, and he felt her hardened nipples brush against his as he moved inside her wet, silky heat, her walls embracing him like she never wanted to let him go. With every push inside, Mikasa cried out against his open, panting mouth, and he used the sounds he ripped from her throat as fuel to hold on just a little longer, to keep that coil in his abdomen from bursting, knowing that after tonight, he might never get the chance to bring her pleasure ever again. If there had ever been a time to show he had perseverance, he thought, it was now.

Her legs fell from his waist, and Eren took the opportunity to take a hold of the left one and hook it over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what compelled him, but when he was suddenly even deeper inside Mikasa and the woman positively screamed beneath him at the new angle, he knew it had been a good idea. He hooked her other leg over his other shoulder and let his strokes become long and deep, putting as much force behind them as he could.

“Oh God, Eren, yes! Right there, just like that, yes!”

Mikasa was writhing under him, eyes screwed shut and throwing her head from side to side as a string of her sobs and screams tumbled from her lips, echoing through the room. Her breasts were jiggling with every one of Eren’s thrusts, and her hands flew to his chest, nails digging in and scratching down his torso. Tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes as she forced them open to lock with his. Eren was bathed in sweat by this point, both from the exertion of the act and holding back. Just a tiny bit longer, he told himself, even as the heat in his lower body threatened to burn him up from the inside. He let go of one of her legs and let his thumb rub over the bundle of nerves, slick with the same desire that was coating his length.

“Oh, fuck… Eren – Eren!” Mikasa chanted and suddenly, she became even tighter, her walls clenching around him as she wailed his name over and over, sucking him in even deeper, and the dam inside him burst. He shuddered and his skin broke out in goosebumps. Letting his body fall on top of hers, his hips twitched once, twice as he released himself and painted her insides white with his cum, her name like a prayer on his lips.

Mikasa reached up with a trembling hand to stroke his hair. He turned to face her fully and caught her lips with his own. When they broke apart for air, a smile blossomed on her beautiful face. The brightness of it put the rays of sunshine beginning to permeate through the curtains to shame, and he couldn’t help but return it with his own.

They didn’t exchange any words as they reveled in the aftermath of their lovemaking, nor when they got up to get cleaned up. They remained silent, afraid to break the spell, as they climbed back into bed, Eren wrapping Mikasa up in his arms and drawing random patterns into whatever part of her skin he could reach. Eventually, her breathing slowed down, and Eren thought she had succumbed to the exhaustion, until he heard her whisper “I love you” into his skin so quietly, he wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear. And as much as he ached to return the sentiment…

It was easier to pretend he hadn’t.

But I melted away like snow into the ground I told her I've gotta go, I've gotta go

Eren had no idea how he would find the strength to go through with leaving Mikasa behind after last night. She had fallen into a peaceful slumber after their… activities, a flush still on her face and continuing down all the way to her cleavage. Eren, on the other hand, remained restless. He went over everything again in his head – how she had blinked at him lazily, a blissful smile he had never seen from her before curving her mouth upwards, the same mouth that had been singing him praises in the shape of sweet sighs and wanton moans just minutes before, the same mouth from which his name had spilled over and over again in soft cries and literal screams as she came undone beneath him. He pulled her closer, his chest against her back, and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, trying to commit her scent and the feel of her skin against his to his jumbled memory, just in case, but… He couldn’t go.

So now, Eren was hoping against hope that the conference today would go differently from what he had seen. He would not steal away after what Mikasa and he had just shared; how was he supposed to break her heart like that? How would he find the strength to deny both her and himself? How could he accept that he would never have her like this again? Not just her body, but her heart and soul laid bare for him? How could he leave and accept that one day, she might show the same vulnerability to another man? Might gift her heart to someone else? As he stroked over her bare arm, Eren was aware his thoughts were in the very least unfair and selfish, bordering on possessive, and in some ways even sexist, and he would never voice them out loud, but he couldn’t help feeling this way in his weak moments, when his guard was down. Armin was like a brother to him, and he could not stomach the thought of losing him. It was Armin’s dream that inspired him to venture outside the walls in the first place. But Mikasa – no matter what life threw at him, he knew that as long as she was with him, he could survive anything. She was the reason he continued to move forward.

If you want to save Mikasa, and Armin… and everyone else… you have to complete your mission.

The words rang clearly in his ears, like Kruger had just said them to him instead of his father decades ago. It was an unpleasant reminder, and Eren had to restrain himself from yelling back at no one, why me? I just want to be with her. Let me be with her!

Mikasa stirred in his grip and groaned quietly. She jumped slightly at the sight of a tan arm wrapped around her waist, but quickly regained her composure when she remembered what happened last night, and another one of those blissful smiles stretched her cheeks as she turned around in Eren’s strong hold and looked up at him lovingly.

“Good morning,” she whispered and pecked the corner of his mouth. Eren couldn’t hold back the grin blooming on his own face.

“A very good morning indeed.” His hand reached up to stroke over the scar on her cheek, like he could remove the mark if he poured enough love into his touch. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.

“Do you think the others are back yet?” Her fingers traced random patterns against his chest and abdomen. Eren couldn’t suppress the shiver her touch elicited.

“It’s still early, and they were really drunk…” He pushed her on her back and rolled on top of her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as if on autopilot, and her eyes were heavy-lidded not with sleep, but lust. For him, and only him. The thought went both to his head and his hardening length, and he grinded against her. His mouth found her neck, tracing soft kisses up the sensitive area until it reached her ear. “We have time…” he murmured. One of his hands wandered down the expanse of her torso, stopping shortly to squeeze her soft breast and rub at the hardened nub before continuing his trek down south. This time, it was him who coaxed a shiver and a moan from her.

“Eren… Please…” she whined, and the sound sent a pang to his gut. Eren’s long, slender fingers found her folds, already slick with her desire, and he groaned.

“So wet already… Is that what I do to you, princess?” His voice was deep and gravelly. Two of his fingers easily slipped into her, looking for the spot from last night while he rubbed against the swollen nub above her entrance with his palm. Mikasa gasped and started moving her hips in rhythm with his movements. He took in the expression on her face, her furrowed brow, her luscious pink lips slightly open as she panted softly; her cute nose, and the blush spreading over her milky skin; her beautiful eyes, silver with unshed tears…

“More, please…” She begged. “Want you inside me again, please…” Eren’s quip about how he was technically inside her died on his tongue at the desperate look in those glittering irises. It was almost like she knew, he thought as he pulled his fingers out. He felt the same desperation take a hold of him, a different kind of desperation than the hunger they’d already succumbed to. This was about making every second they could steal together count. Just in case, his mind repeated, just in case this was the last time.

His mouth captured hers and he licked at the seam of her lips, begging for entrance, morning breath be damned. Mikasa seemed to think the same thing, tangling her tongue with his in a passionate dance and rutting her hips up against his pelvis in an attempt to get some friction. Never breaking their embrace, she rolled them to their sides, her legs still wrapped around him. Her hand took a hold of his cock and, bringing her hips closer to his, she guided it to her entrance and thrust down until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

They moaned against each other’s mouths, breaking the kiss. Their lips remained touching as they opened their eyes. Eren’s emerald irises locked with Mikasa’s silver ones, and he began to move, thrusting languidly and watching even the tiniest twitch in her facial muscles as a symphony of her moans broke through the silence of the room, accompanied by his own heavy breathing.

Remembering the effect from last night, Eren moved his hand down to the leg he could reach, and hiked it up a little. It seemed to do the trick as Mikasa’s lids screwed shut and she threw her head back with a cry. He took in the way her long, thick eyelashes rested against her cheeks, and his arm wrapped around her back to bring her even closer, crushing her against him. He could feel the goosebumps on her skin, every knob on her spine as he caressed it, her wetness spreading over his pelvis as she rubbed against it with every push. Despite the desperation they both felt, they were unhurried, taking their time to savor each touch. And he committed all to his memory, certain that even after he died, the memories and the feeling of it wouldn’t.

When she came in his arms, it wasn’t with the same screams as last night – this time, she cried out his name softly, her face buried in his neck as she tensed up, her walls milking his own release from him once again, making him groan and shudder in turn before they gradually relaxed in each other’s hold. She leaned in for a short, sweet kiss before they continued to just stare at each other, drinking each other in. His hand came up to stroke her cheek, and she nuzzled into it, giving it a peck, eliciting an adoring smile from the green-eyed man.

Suddenly, they heard voices pass by Mikasa’s room and a knock on her door.

“Mikasa? Are you in there?” It was Hange. Eren hid his face in Mikasa’s neck and groaned quietly, this time out of frustration. Then, he had an idea, and with a smirk, he began to give the skin little kitten licks, making the girl squirm and giggle.

“Yes, Hange,” she called back, trying to sound normal, “but please don’t come in right now, I just got out of the shower and I’m not decent.”

The doorhandle was halfway down already, the door almost creaking open, but at Mikasa’s request, Hange let go and left it closed.

“Alright, just… meet us in the kitchen in 15 minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” Mikasa called back.

“You too, Eren!” With that, they heard Hange’s footsteps retreat.

The pair looked at each other with wide eyes. Maybe 15 minutes would have been enough to enjoy each other’s closeness some more, maybe even go for another round, but with the knowledge that Hange somehow knew, they scrambled up to clean themselves up and get dressed as quickly as possible. Mikasa left a couple of minutes ahead of Eren, so as not to make anyone else suspicious, and when Eren joined the squad a few minutes later, no one seemed to give them any strange looks or made any comments. It seemed like, thankfully, Hange hadn’t told anyone, and they made sure to keep some distance between them so as not to rouse any suspicions. Mikasa sat next to a groaning Sasha for breakfast, who was grabbing her head but still shoving copious amounts food into her mouth, and he sat with Levi and Armin as they went over his security for today’s outing.

When they arrived at the lecture hall later, they still left a couple of spaces between them. As Eren listened to a man’s impassioned speech about Eldian rights, which explicitly excluded him and his “island devil” friends, he was both glad for the distance and felt hollow at the same time.

But somehow, he had always known that the kind of life he wanted for Mikasa and himself, the life she had been dreaming about since they were naïve children, was never meant to be. Maybe that was why he had been dragging his feet and had never confessed to her how he felt. Maybe he wasn’t even supposed to have last night or this morning. But he could use it to strengthen his resolve – because, his strongest and perhaps most selfish desire, was for Mikasa to live a long and happy life, regardless of what role he got to play in it.

And so, he fought the magnetic pull begging him to stay by her side, and quietly left to fulfill the mission he had been given long before he was even born.

It's been a long, long night You said you were mine I felt so bad but I had to go No she never wanted me to leave her behind No she never wanted me to leave her

“I want to share your burden.”

Mikasa’s voice echoed in his head. Even after telling her she was a slave and that he had hated her forever, beating up Armin, not to mention the people he killed in Liberio, Sasha… And now, he was literally trying to kill every living being in the world besides the residents of Paradise.

He thought that maybe, at least that night they had shared, and his subsequent disappearance, might have stirred up some resentment in her. The war wasn’t personal, so he could see how she might be able to justify his actions, but that… had been deeply personal. He had basically taken her heart and stomped on it until it was dust, just like the titans under his control were flattening the earth. He tried to make her believe he had only used her body, and that the only passion he had for her was anger and disgust, his own heart threatening to pound out of its cage with how loudly it was screaming at him for the obvious lie. But her devotion to him… her love for him knew no bounds. It transcended time and space and circumstance. It was the only constant he had left, the only thing that still made sense to his muddled mind. It was as certain as the rise of the moon and the sun and the stars, as the ebb and flow of the sea.

Just as certain as his untimely demise.

Here she was, still offering her unwavering support. She acknowledged all the worst parts of him, all the cruelty and the stench of death, and still loved him. After everything, still, still, all she dreamed of was a quiet, peaceful life by his side, and if she couldn’t get the quiet and peaceful part, she would settle for him simply being there. And although every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he wanted the same, it was too late, and he had to let her go. He had to make her let him go.

But would it be so bad to make her happy one last time before he did? This was literally his last chance to be honest with her. And was it so bad that he wanted to defy his cruel fate and feel happy, be free at least one more time, before he succumbed to it?

Eren looked to the side at the small blonde girl, and she nodded, allowing him to use her powers to give into his selfishness before his final moments.

Suddenly, he was transported back to that night, to their conversation in the dim lights of the refugee camp, and he let them live in the reality of what might have been had her answer been slightly different, had there been no interruptions, had he finally taken her hand and just given in and followed her into her dream.

So long, so long, And we dance around just like constellations We dance around just like constellations We dance around, we dance around, You make my body warm, You make my body warm.

[t4tharuspex]

house of mirrors

2.5k word mlp fanfic. dont judge me >.>

summary: rarity and twilights visit to the crystal empire is more eventful then either had hoped. somethings wrong with the castle, and more importantly, somethings wrong with shining armor...

content warnings: fear of transphobia (no actual rtansphobia bc this is the colorful horses show)

Rarity held back a whinny of delight as she trotted off the train and into the crystal empire station. Everywhere she looked she was dazzled by gleaming crystals of every color refracting rainbows on every surface while somehow remaining the farthest thing from gaudy. Starting to feel faint from excitement, she leaned on twilight's shoulder as her eyes fluttered.

“Rarity come on!” The alicorn laughed as she helped her friend upright. “We’ve hardly been in the empire for a minute! Save your fainting for the ceremony.”

The white horse perked up immediately at the reminder of what she had come here for: she was to assist Cadence and Shining Armor in the preparations for the newborn princesses presentation to the public! She cantered in place with excitement, lifting twilight's luggage with her magic and running off to their suite in the castle with twilight hot on her heels.

The suite was spacious with generous decor in simple light colors. the main focal point of the suite was the giant bay windows which cast giant swathes of warm light across the room. upon closer inspection rarity was amazed to discover that the windows were made entirely of cut crystal rather than glass. the faint color of the gemstone created a slight cast on the light coming in, giving a view of the city below that was ever so slightly tinted. this realization recontextualized the furnishing in rarities mind: it wasn't dull and plain, but simply a blank canvas for whatever the crystal windows brought in. a strange method of decor indeed. or was it a response to the material conditions of living in a house of crystal?

When the two had almost settled into their apartment, they were startled from their rest by a brisk knock at the door.

“A summons for princess twilight sparkle,” a booming voice called from behind the door. “You are needed urgently by princess mi amore cadenza for matters concerning his highness the prince.”

Worry flooded the purple alicorns features. “Urgent? Then I guess I had better go now.” She magically gathered a few items into her saddlebag and gave a parting smile to her friend as she was rushed away by royal guards.

Shocked by the suddenness of it all, rarity let out a chuff and sat squarely on her quarters. Was shining armor alright? she wanted to put her anxieties to rest, but it was plainly obvious that she hadn't been invited. would the entire trip to the empire consist of her sitting alone in her room while twilight attended to all matters of actual importance?

Trying to shake the thought from her head, rarity got up and left her room to explore the castle. It truly was extravagant, with pillars of crystal stretching to the high vaulted ceilings spreading refractions of glittering iridescence that made the whole space seem somehow both extraordinary glamorous and warm and homey. Inspiration flooded her mind as she trotted the decadently decorated halls. She just couldn’t wait to get back to her studio and put this inspiration to good use.

She was halted in her exploration when her ears picked up familiar voices talking from behind an ajar door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help but listen in...

"-i don't know what to do twilight, he hadn't seemed this off for years, and now flurry is here and hes completely absent!"

"i don't know cadence, he hasn't said anything in his letters-"

“- all I’m saying is maybe you could get through to him! He won’t talk to me, or anypony else here. you're my last hope. maybe hell listen to his best friend”

“i've never been able to help him in one of these episodes before. if he’s not ready to talk then confronting him will only make him more defensive.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take. I’m worried for my husband twilight.” Rarity leaned on the door to hear better as the princesses voice dropped, “please, if not for shining armor, or for me, then for flurry heart. She deserves to have a father who can dedicate himself to her, not one who’s so preoccupied that he can hardly look after her.”

There was a sigh, then rarity heard twilight speak “very well. I’ll do this for her. Maybe that will get through to my brother.”

Sudden approaching hoofsteps started rarity out of her reverie. She stumbled backwards just in time to miss the swinging door as twilight entered the hall. “Rarity? I thought you were still in the room? Oh well, I need your help anyway." She looked over her shoulder as if to make sure they were alone. "I think somethings wrong with my brother. It's possible that one of the unreformed changelings has taken his place to try too take advantage of the upcoming love boom from flurry hearts royal presentation."

Rarity was taken aback by her friends leap of logic. "Doesn't that seem like an extreme suspicion? Having a baby is stressful enough for normal ponies, I cant imagine what kind of pressure would be on a royal prince."

"I don't know rarity, after what happened at the wedding we can't be too careful. I hope its just nerves and parental stress, but we have to expect the worse if we want to be prepared to handle it."

rarity nodded. "alright, then let's find your brother."

The two ponies galloped down the halls in search of the princes chambers. the crystal walls seemed to burn with energy, the warm cast of light from earlier having turned harsh and almost too bright. rarity wondered absently if this was a product of the changing time of day or a trick of the mind. could the walls of a castle really know how somepony felt, and shine it back at them like a diamond mirror?

a distant commotion pricked the two mares ears. "this way!" twilight called as she rounded a corner, dashing after the sound with rarity at her side.

the two skidded to a stop when they reached an open doorway from which the sound seemed to emit. with a flick of her ear twilight motioned for rarity to follow her and the two cautiously made their way into the room. twilight emitted a small light from her horn, then lit the rooms lamp once she could find it on the wall. with the room lit rarity immediately got an impression of drabness and depression, the tightly draped windows letting in no light and the gemstone walls shining the same dim echo back and forth across the space, almost seeming to beg for the light to go out again.

twilight gestured with her chin to the curtained bed at the center of the room, grabbing one edge of the curtain with her magic and indicating for rarity to take hold of the other. once the unicorn had secured the curtain, twilight gave a sharp nod and both ponies tugged their curtain aside, revealing a stallion-sized lump that spectacularly failed to live up to either mares fearful imagination.

the blue-maned unicorn sat up at once, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. he seemed to calm down slightly when he recognized his sister, but he remained guarded. "twily? rarity? what are you two doing in my private chambers?"

"well to be fair," rarity gestured back at the entrance, "you did leave your door open."

"cadence must have done that when she left." shining armor gruffed. "that doesn't answer my question though: what are you doing here?"

twilight stepped forward with a cautious expression, ready to fight if this really was a changeling. "were just here to check up on you, see how youre handling the upcoming princess presentation" it was clear that twilight was being reserved with her supposed brother.

then, shining armors eyes met hers, and her suspicion evaporated. that peculiar sadness that had haunted her brother in her young filliehood, then she had thought he'd escaped when he found happiness in cadences arms, was burning hot tears from shining armors eyes. she had never seen a pain like that before or since. if there was anything twilight was certain of, it was that this pony was the same one she had known her whole life. but the question still lingered, was he the real shining?

completely without her permission, tears began to well in twilight's eyes. "oh shinning, whats happened to you?"

her brother choked on a sob. "I'm sorry twily, you were never supposed to see me like this. no one was. i should be able to hold it together for you... for cadence... for my daughter..."

"shining nopony wants you to hide any part of you! we want to know when you're hurting so we can help. i had thought you'd healed from whatever's causing this pain but it seems to be back and i wont let you hide it from me this time!" the purple alicorn sniffled as tears streaked down her muzzle. "please shining, tell me whats wrong."

The stallion nervously rubbed his hooves together and cast his gaze to the ground. "i don't even know where to start."

"the beginning," twilight proposed. "i want to know everything. you cant heal until you let your wounds be seen."

shining nodded and took a deep breath, "its just that, when you were a fillie, everyone expected me to be the perfect big brother, and i never measured up to that expectation. it was like being thrown into the ocean with no idea how to swim, and everypony kept insisting that i was a fish and i should know how, but i didn't. then in the royal guard it didn't matter how i felt as long as i followed orders and played the role, so that's what i did. i don't know if it actually quieted the pain or just forced me to ignore it, but for a few years i thought maybe i could live with it. cadence was the only pony i've ever met who could make that noise in my brain silent; with her it didn't matter if I wasn't brother enough fro you or stallion enough for the military. i was always enough for her, no questions asked. i was so happy when we got married that i could almost forget about that feeling, telling myself it was a phase i'd outgrown. but now with flurry heart, all that anxiety is back. its like no matter what i do ill never be able to be a good father for her. i love her more than anything, id do anything for her, but it isn't enough. i'm not enough." the white unicorns neck gave way as he succumbed to quiet sobs, his once proud chin quivering and brushing his chest.

"shining... i..." twilight was speechless. what could be said? her brothers pain went far beyond anything she knew how to mend. at that moment being the princess of friendship meant nothing; she couldn't even move herself to speak in the face of her first best friends deep sorrow.

"i hope im not overstepping here," a timid voice chimed in, startling both siblings as rarity cleared her throat. "but i think i may have an idea as to the source and solution of your distress."

"rarity?" shining choked, "how could you possibly know how i feel?"

the mare nervously flicked her mane with an idle hoof. "there's a lot you don't know about me." turning to twilight, she asked "would it be alright if the prince and i could have a moment alone?"

Twilight nodded and bowed out of the room, and the two remaining ponies listened to her hoofbeats echo down and again further down the labyrinthine crystal hallway, which now seemed to glitter coldly like a sterile knife where it once had gleamed so warmly. rarity shivered at the thought of living in a place like this, which could transform before your eyes depending only on ones own emotion. that was, she mused, the property of crystal. it created nothing, only reflecting what was cast onto it. in a dimly lit cave the finest diamond was often mistaken by novices for a common quartz, but at the heart of a kingdom built on a foundation of admiration it gleamed on every surface like the morning dew on a freshly budded rose. this castle wasn't a cold cage or a warm embrace, it was an endless hall of mirrors, each perfectly angled to show you the deepest darkest crevice of your heart.

"i understand why it tortures you to live here." rarity whispered. "each surface gleams to a pristine chrome finish, yet the face it reflects is fundamentally and inconceivably wrong."

shining armor appeared startled, "that's exactly how it feels. how do you know? is it that obvious how miserable i am?

the mare shook her head, "only to those who have felt the same misery. shining armor, i once lived the same life as you, albeit in a much more drab estate. I felt that at every turn i failed at the very task of existing as myself, my relationships suffered because it pained me to view myself as a part of them. mirrors became my enemy because i couldn't face the pony looking back at me. the stallion looking back at me."

a small gasp escaped the taller unicorns lips "what-"

"think about it shining," rarity pleaded shakily, " everything you cant stand to be: brother, father, soldier, prince. they all have one thing in common." tears welled in her eyes and choked her throat "you cant run from it shining. it never stops. you only make yourself more and more miserable. you can cover as many mirrors as you like but eventually you're going to look around and realize that you're still the same pony you hated, standing alone in complete darkness."

something clicked behind the other ponys eyes. "no, it cant be... what about cadence? flurry? twilight? i cant throw all of them away because i have some twisted dream of living as a-"

"-you're not sick shining. maybe a bit different, but there's nothing wrong with you. you'll find that the friends worth keeping don't care at all. they're suffering by watching you suffer; freeing yourself will only free them too."

"i have no idea where to even start though. aren't i a bit too old for this?" shinings eyes were wide and scared.

"i would love to personally see to all the aesthetic changes you wish for, if you'll have me. you really couldn't ask for a more qualified personal stylist. and as for the social shift, you've got the princesses of love and friendship in your corner."

"but that's just it: they're not in my corner. they may as well be on the other side of equestria, or a gaping cavern. how can i even know that they'll still see me as me?"

"i know how scary it is, especially in the early days, but i can personally account for twilights acceptance. and as for cadence, i'm pretty sure they don't go around giving titles like the princess of love to ponies who cant accept others for something so harmless as gender." her smile faded and her face grew a bit serious "i can be there with you if you want. like i said, i know how scary it is." she placed a hoof on top of the other mares own.

She smiled. "I think id like that."

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Monsters in the Closet

Title: Monsters in the Closet

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

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

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

Word-Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Brotherly Prinixety

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not a horse,” Virgil says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman smiles, “Your wish is my command.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 18

Shuichi finally confronts Kokichi.

ao3

Finding Ouma proved to be much harder than expected, Saihara’s few moments of hesitation seeming to be all that the other boy needed to get a headstart. After he dashed up the stairs, Saihara was left with an empty corridor. The rest of the boys must have made their way back to their rooms already, as there was no one in sight.

The apartment complex wasn’t necessarily that big, leaving only a few places that Ouma could’ve gone. That is, if he was even in the apartment complex to begin with. Allowing himself to make the assumption that Ouma hadn’t gone far, Saihara set off to check the common room and the dorms, as well as asking the others if they had seen the other boy.

The more time that passed, the more frantic Saihara became. The puzzle pieces slowly started to click in his mind, cementing the fact that Ouma was indeed being genuine with his confession. And of course, Saihara had to accuse him of lying, only aiding in making the situation more of a mess. Nonetheless, there was nothing he could do now but pray that he would find Ouma soon so he could apologize to him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma had discovered this place not too long after moving into the apartment complex, his natural inclination to explore the place taking over. Right at the end of the hall where the dorms were located there was a closet, similar to the one in the hospital. Anyone else would’ve just ignored this, but Ouma, being naturally curious, felt compelled to investigate it. His suspicions as to where this door led were confirmed when he was met with a staircase, presumably leading up to the roof. He filed this information in the back of his head, storing it there for later use.

Right now was the perfect time to use that information, he thought to himself as he sat cross-legged near the edge of the roof. It wasn’t nearly as high up as the roof of the hospital was, and he wasn’t as scarily close to the edge as he was when he sat there, but it fulfilled its purpose of giving him a place to be alone with his thoughts.

Belatedly, he recalled the time when Saihara found him up on the roof and reassured him that he wasn’t alone. Ouma found himself missing the warmth of Saihara’s hand by his face, lingering there after gently tucking his hair behind his ear.

But now all that he felt was cold.

In a way, he supposed that he deserved this. Being alone had always been his default state of being, and he was a fool for believing that he could live otherwise. It was his fault for allowing himself to fall prey to the delusion that he could be loved by someone else, be wanted by someone else. Especially when that someone else was Saihara.

The truth was that Saihara deserved better than him. He deserved someone who didn’t come with so much baggage and so many layers of distrust, someone who was capable of loving him like he should be loved. Ouma could never be that person for Saihara.

Maybe it was better this way. Having Ouma’s impulsive and heartfelt confession be dismissed as a lie was logically the best thing that could happen, as the two of them could continue their lives being just friends and nothing more.

...So why did it hurt so much?

Smothering his feelings and lying to Saihara about his feelings was the best course of action, so why did it hurt so much?

Maybe he was tired of lying, parading around and disguising himself as someone that he wasn’t. But lying was all that he knew how to do. When he wasn’t lying he was running away from his problems, ignoring the pang in his chest when Saihara called out his name and chased after him.

Suppressing his emotions, running away, ignoring the pain- it was a vicious cycle of suffering for Ouma. But if bearing this pain meant that others could be happy he would willingly do so, subjecting himself to this torment until the day he dies. As long as Saihara was happy everything would be okay.

The plan was simple: Ouma would act as if nothing happened between him and Saihara, dodging any of the other boy’s attempts to bring up his confession. As far as Ouma was concerned, the whole exchange had never even happened in the first place. The purpose of this was to make sure Saihara was blissfully unaware of Ouma’s feelings, allowing him to live in peace while Ouma suffered internally. Everything would be fine that way.

But of course, the universe had other plans for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Saihara had been pacing throughout the apartment, having failed in locating Ouma. He knew that the other boy would have to return there eventually, so he waited.

And boy did Ouma keep him waiting.

It was long after Momota had gone to bed, the night stretching on uncomfortably. Saihara couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to, worry gnawing at his heart with every passing second. Had he really hurt Ouma so much that he didn’t even want to face him? Or was he just overthinking things and Ouma was completely fine?

No, there’s no way he isn’t upset… I’m almost certain that his confession was genuine.

As the implications of that statement became more apparent, the logical part of Saihara’s brain came to a screeching halt.

Wait a second… Ouma-kun has feelings for me?!

Eyes wide and face flushed, Saihara had to fight off his internal sense of doubt as he tried to calm himself down.

His brain immediately fired a plethora of responses to the conclusion he had just drawn, trying to convince him that he was wrong. But each and every one of these excuses was shot down with the logical facts of the situation.

If Ouma-kun was lying, why would he have run away like that? It just doesn’t make sense…

All feelings of drowsiness left his body as he was now alert, nervously chewing at his bottom lip as his brain frantically fired one thought after another.

But Ouma-kun having feelings for me doesn’t make sense either! Why would he even see me that way?! I’m so boring and awkward, and he’s so entertaining and smart… and cute… 

Saihara was so engrossed with his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Ouma strategically opening the door as quietly as possible, slipping into the apartment without being detected.

Ouma had almost made it to the bedroom when the wooden floor beneath him creaked, signaling his presence. Saihara gave a surprised yelp, having been startled out of his thoughts of utter disbelief. He turned towards the source of the disturbance only to spot Ouma, who was standing there as nonchalantly as possible.

“Well if it isn’t my beloved Saihara-chan! I totally didn’t even see you there!” The sarcasm in his voice was evident, making it clear that he didn’t want to talk.

“Um… Ouma-kun? Can I-”

Ouma gave a theatrical yawn, cutting Saihara off mid-sentence.

“Wow, would you look at that! I’m beat!” He made his way to the bedroom, swinging open the door. “I better get to bed now! Good night, Saihara-chan!”

“W-Wait! About before-” Saihara desperately tried to gain Ouma’s attention, but it was no use.

“Oh, by the way!” Ouma drummed his fingers along the edge of the door, not even bothering to turn and face Saihara. “I’ll be sleeping in your bed again! Alone.”

The door to the bedroom was slammed shut, Ouma having no concern for the sleeping Momota. Meanwhile, Saihara stood there dumbfounded at how easily he was shut out.

With a sigh, he made himself comfortable on the couch, resigning himself to sleeping there as he was too cowardly to face Ouma once more.

This is gonna be harder than I thought…

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were filled with similar encounters, in which Saihara attempted to bring up their conversation in the game room and Ouma came up with increasingly creative solutions as to why he couldn’t talk at the time.

When Saihara wasn’t trying to bring up what occurred between them, Ouma would act completely normal. But as soon as he tried changing the subject, Ouma would hit the abort button and immediately leave to go somewhere else. It didn’t help that Ouma was exceptionally observant, being able to detect whenever Saihara was about to bring up what happened. The ex-detective was never particularly good at hiding his emotions, after all.

The amount of times that Saihara failed to confront Ouma was starting to get ridiculous, making him almost consider dropping the subject completely. Almost.

But Saihara had a few ideas of his own, having figured out Ouma’s pattern by now. Every time he would even come close to having a serious talk with him, Ouma would bolt out of the room with some extravagant excuse after dismissing Saihara’s statements completely. If he was able to corner Ouma and leave him no means of escape, then Saihara could successfully spring the dreaded discussion upon him.

Although trapping him somewhere and forcing him to talk about something he clearly didn’t want to talk about seemed a bit cruel, it was inevitable as Ouma had left him no other choice. While he couldn’t guarantee that Ouma would cooperate once they were alone, the fact that they would be talking in the first place would be progress, even if it was only Saihara speaking.

Ignoring what had happened was simply not an option. Not when guilt overloaded Saihara’s brain every time he spoke with Ouma, wishing that he had handled the situation differently. He was going to fix this, and he was going to do it now.

Saihara glanced at the clock, taking note of the time. It was almost noon, and Ouma was usually awake by now. Normally, Saihara would also be waking up around now, but he hadn’t been sleeping as well the past few days after what happened. After excusing himself from the living room where he and Momota were, Saihara made his way to the bedroom to confront Ouma.

He could practically feel his heart thrumming against his ribcage as he slowly opened the door to the bedroom, the prospect of talking with Ouma about this sending flutters down his stomach. While it was true that Saihara had tried speaking with him about this many times, the reality that it was actually about to happen made him even more nervous than before. Nonetheless, he forced himself to continue, stepping into the bedroom gingerly.

“Ouma-kun?” Saihara spoke barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle the other boy. “Are you awake?”

Entering the room, Saihara saw Ouma sitting up in his bed, staring back at him tiredly. After a few beats of silence Ouma perked up, plastering a fake smile onto his face.

“Gooood morning, Saihara-chan!” he drawled cheerfully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Man, what time is it? I don’t know about you but I slept like a baby last night!” He stretched his arms out in front of him, yawning theatrically.

“Good morning.” Ignoring his shaking hands, Saihara closed the door behind him, standing in front of it and blocking off Ouma’s escape route. The other boy immediately recognized his intentions, eyes widening and body tensing noticeably. “Listen, Ouma-kun…” With a sigh, Saihara continued. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while but you kept avoiding me, so-”

“Hmm? I have nooo idea what you’re talking about!” Ouma sprung out of bed, approaching Saihara with a glare. “Maybe Saihara-chan needs to go back to bed since he keeps imagining things!”

Although he was smiling, his eyes betrayed feelings of anger and resentment as he stared daggers at Saihara, silently telling him to drop the subject and move out of the way. But Saihara was surprisingly stubborn, having been fed up with Ouma’s constant avoidance and running away. He crossed his arms, unmoving.

“I’m not imagining anything. I know exactly what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” Saihara refuted Ouma’s words, the other boy narrowing his eyes bitterly. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.” Saihara allowed his gaze to soften, attempting to put Ouma at ease. “I understand that this must be hard for you but I can’t let you keep running away from your feelings. Not when…”

Saihara clenched his fists, staring down at the ground. A flurry of emotions had overwhelmed him, clouding his mind. Meanwhile, Ouma was silent, giving Saihara time to collect his thoughts and put them into words.

After having adequate time to piece his thoughts together, Saihara looked back towards Ouma. “I-I care about you a lot, Ouma-kun. I like you a lot, too. And I’m sorry for not believing you the other day. I just…” Saihara gulped, fighting the urge to cry. “I find it so hard to believe that someone like you has feelings for someone like me. I’m so boring and awkward and I just don’t understand why-”

“Shh, it’s okay Saihara-chan.” Ouma was suddenly by his side, wiping away his tears. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here.”

Saihara gave a weak nod, leaning into the touch. Ouma wasn’t used to comforting others besides the standard affirmations, so he stood in silence as Saihara composed himself.

“Thank you, Ouma-kun.” Saihara sniffled, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have accused you of lying when you said that you liked me. I just couldn’t believe it, you know?” He gave a small smile, a hint of sadness still behind it. “But I should’ve known better… You’ve grown so much since the killing game, you wouldn’t lie about something like that. And then you ran away and I just felt awful… So I’m sorry. Again.”

Ouma stared at him blankly, hesitantly speaking.

“Geez, Saihara-chan… You don’t need to keep apologizing like that…”

He was silent for a moment before continuing, his expression shifting into something more serious.

“I’m sorry too. For avoiding you.” Ouma sighed, looking over his shoulder, “I guess I could’ve handled this a lot better… But where’s the fun in that?” He gave a sly smile, breathing a sigh of relief when Saihara smiled back, shaking his head.

“But seriously…” Ouma’s smile vanished, his serious expression returning. “I do really like you, Saihara-chan. And that’s not a lie.”

“I like you too, Ouma-kun. I think it’s cute how you always cling to me, and I really appreciate you being vulnerable with me… So if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to pursue a deeper relationship with you… O-Oh, but only if you want to, of course!” Saihara stammered.

When he looked back at Ouma he noticed that his face was flushed, accompanied by a small pout. Saihara was worried that he said something wrong, but then Ouma smiled ever so slightly, staring at the ground.

“Of course I would like that, you dummy…” he mumbled, almost going unheard by Saihara.

“R-Really?!” Saihara nearly shouted, giving a sheepish smile.

“Uh-huh!” Ouma affirmed proudly, “But only if Saihara-chan promises to buy me all the Panta in the world!”

Saihara chuckled, “Anything to make you happy.”

“Great!” Ouma skipped over to Saihara, suddenly embracing him. Saihara froze momentarily before wrapping his arms around Ouma, holding him even closer.

Ouma pulled away much too quickly for Saihara’s liking, leaving him craving more contact with the boy.

“Well don’t just stand there! We’ve got to get ready, right?” Ouma announced excitedly.

“Uhh, sure…” Saihara agreed confusedly. “Wait, what are we getting ready for exactly?”

“Our first date, of course!” Ouma frowned, his bottom lip quivering as crocodile tears threatened to stream down his face. “D-Don’t tell me… Saihara-chan doesn’t love me anymore?!”

Saihara chuckled at the other boy’s theatrics, shaking his head. “A first date sounds great. What do you want to do?”

“Hmm…” Ouma thought for a moment before settling on the easiest and quickest option, taking Saihara’s hand in his. “Close your eyes and come with me!”

Barely having time to protest against the sudden action or voice his confusion, Saihara was suddenly being dragged out of the apartment by an overly excited Ouma, their destination unknown. Wherever they were going was fine with Saihara, as he was content going anywhere as long as it was with Ouma.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Open your eyes!”

Saihara did as he was told, opening his eyes and allowing himself to take in their surroundings. His eyes landed on a bench in the distance, surrounded by a plethora of green grasses as well as a walking path and even a fountain.

“The park?” Saihara wondered aloud, looking towards Ouma for confirmation.

“Yep!” Ouma chirped, “There’s a walking path that’ll take us through the whole park, so we can talk while we explore!”

“That’s right… We’ve come here for training so many times but we’ve never really explored the place.” Saihara added thoughtfully.

“Exactly! Now come on, let’s get going!” Ouma led Saihara towards the direction of the walking path, bouncing up and down eagerly.

Their hands still entwined with one another, they set about walking along the path. Every now and then they would pass some other couples or individuals walking down the path, who fortunately paid no attention to the two boys. The scenery of the park wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy, but it was a nice change of pace from being inside the apartment all of the time. There were bushes, trees, and various structures such as benches and small statues, the sun shining brightly and the breeze blowing ever so lightly.

As expected, Ouma carried most of the conversation, ranting to Saihara about anything and everything that came to mind, the other boy enjoying his company greatly. While the thought of being seen holding hands with someone in public made him quite nervous, the sight of Ouma’s brightly smiling face was more than enough to put his nerves at ease.

Being seen holding hands with Ouma wasn’t his only worry, however. Saihara couldn’t tell if it was due to his habit of overthinking or if it was due to his exceptional skills of observation, but he couldn’t help but worry about the other boy. Just yesterday he was avoiding Saihara at all costs, bottling up his feelings and avoiding confrontation. Although he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself right now, Saihara wondered if he was still holding back some of his true emotions. But now wasn’t the time to bring that, he supposed. They were having a great time together and Saihara didn’t intend on ruining the mood.

Eventually, the path they were walking on looped around and brought them back to their destination. The sun was just about to set, the breeze picking up as clouds gathered together in the sky. A few droplets of rain fell from the sky, interrupting Saihara and Ouma’s conversation.

Ouma stopped walking and stuck his hands out experimentally, not being surprised when more droplets of water landed on him. Meanwhile, Saihara gazed up at the clouds, taking note of how the sky darkened.

“We should hurry back… It looks like a storm is heading in.” Saihara observed.

Ouma nodded, quickening his pace as he and Saihara headed back to the apartment complex.

They had only been walking for a few moments when it started to downright pour, effectively soaking the both of them. Freezing in place due to sheer shock at the suddenness of it all, the two boys simply looked at each other, resigning themselves to their fate.

Then Ouma giggled.

“Are you…” Saihara blinked, trying to get water droplets out of his eyes so he could see clearly. “Are you laughing?”

“Nishishi, maybe I am!” Ouma stole Saihara’s jacket from him, running off with it. “But I think you have bigger problems right now!”

“Ugh, Ouma-kun, seriously?” Saihara gave chase, carefully avoiding the puddles that Ouma haphazardly stepped in. “Give that back! We need to get back to the apartment, now!”

Thankfully for Saihara, Ouma stopped running and held his jacket in front of him. Just as Saihara caught up to him he realized that he was holding it over a giant puddle that had formed, snickering deviously.

“Is something wrong, Saihara-chan?” he taunted, fully aware of what he was doing.

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara’s expression darkened.

“Yes?”

“Give it back.”

“Make me!”

Saihara lunged for his jacket, but he was too slow. His jacket fell into the puddle, and Saihara felt at least lucky that he had nothing in his pockets.

Rather than scolding Ouma for his childish behavior, Saihara smirked, feeling more playful now than ever. Ouma noticed this, feeling taken aback for a short moment before composing himself.

“You’re so gonna get it now.” Saihara pulled his jacket out of the puddle, slowly and ominously walking up to Ouma.

“Oh? What’re you gonna do, huh?” Ouma asked cockily.

His question was answered when Saihara quickly and swiftly wrapped the wet jacket around Ouma’s head, the jacket falling onto his shoulders and swallowing his small figure. Saihara laughed as Ouma peeled the jacket off of his head, tossing it back towards Saihara.

“Blegh! What was that for?!” Ouma complained, rubbing at his wet face.

“You wanted my jacket so badly I decided to give it to you.” Saihara commented slyly, causing Ouma to stick out his tongue at him.

“Fine, fine… You win!” Ouma pouted, “Just take me back to the apartment already, I’m starting to get cold!” He accentuated his words with a shiver, making Saihara feel a twinge of guilt for what he did.

“Sure… And I’m sorry for wrapping your head with my soaking wet jacket.” Despite his words, Saihara couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Only someone like Ouma could bring out this side of him.

“You better be! Now let’s go!” Ouma took Saihara’s hand once more, the two of them making their way back to the apartment complex.

It may have been cold, rainy and dark out, but neither of them regretted coming to the park that day.

[scoundrels-in-love]

While I slip away (with you), There's nothing that I'd rather do

As Brienne settles in her wedded life on Tarth, one of her favorite discoveries is Jaime's new habit of what she deems cat naps. Together, they continue exploring what a life with quiet, warm moments lived just for sake of living and loving can be.

Also on AO3.

Part of Jaime x Brienne Week 2020 (Day 4 - Sloth | Diligence) Part of Tomorrow (with you) series. Gratuitous cat propaganda part 1.

 It had been nine moons since Brienne had bade Lady Sansa one final farewell as her swornsword and almost five since she and her husband had been welcomed back to Tarth, to stay. Now that the initial commotion on the island and inside her heart had died down, she could see the details of her life with clarity and appreciate them for what they truly were.

 For Brienne, one of the most exciting discoveries was Jaime's new habit of what she deemed cat naps. It was not exhilarating in the way facing a new opponent was, it was more like the quiet and content joy of finding what kind of sunset today will exhale in its goodbye.

 (That, too, was a thing she had started to learn, now that the future in which she could watch them seemed both infinite and yet so very contained, compared to how she had seen it as a child.)

 She liked trying to guess where she'll discover him napping next - so far it had been several places in the meadows and the Evenfall's gardens, on the bench by the training yard last week, a few times on the beach after swimming and sun had taken its toll on him, now and then by the lighthouse that he was so fond of (she was, too, more than ever since that bright midday they’d promised themselves to each other and he’d ignited a light in her, making her almost feel like the lighthouse he had compared her to), and once in the library even.

 He had been sitting in the chair by the window, sunlight pouring the gold that years had taken back into his hair, a book on Tarth's  taxations  open in his lap - he must've been reading it to help her make sense of salted salmon import tax after she had complained about it the day before, even though she knew letters often danced for him. It hadn’t surprised her, exactly - back in Winterfell, he had always been restless and in need, eager even to do something, as small as it may be, and she thought he was learning to be at rest just as much as she was.

 Her heart had swelled heavy and warm in her chest at these thoughts and she had stood there, drinking in the sight and the possibility of it like he seemed to drink in the sun every time he found a sunny spot to nap in - or the nap and sunshine found him, she was not sure.

 Eventually, her shifting to lean against the desk had dragged Jaime back to the surface of consciousness, but watching him open his eyes slowly and smile at her instead of straightening with a start had been a special kind of pleasure on its own. "Ser Brienne," he had grinned at her, lazy and sharp like a glimpse of a cat's claws when it stretches, "it seems your island has tamed this lion."

 Brienne had come forward to run hand down his bearded cheek then, biting back a smile. "I see no lion here, only a self  -satisfied   house cat." His eyes had flashed then and oh, she had known in an instant he'd not let this slide. The book had landed on the corner of the desk with a soft thump and a moment later, his arm wound around her waist.

 "I may be old," Jaime had said, making her frown at him. There was less than a decade between them, but after so (too) many wars fought on battlefields and remnants of hearts, she couldn't help but think of men who had faded well before their time in the quiet aftermaths, every time he spoke of his age. He didn't let the thought settle cool between her shoulder blades, though, carrying on. "But not enough to not take offense."

 And then he had pulled her into his lap (and later lifted her on the desk), proving his assertions with notable dedication and energy.

 So, truly, finding Jaime's napping places was all sorts of exciting.

 Today's spot seemed to be her lap. They were sitting in a large oak tree's shade, sunlight dancing dappled light across Jaime's relaxed features as she ran her fingers through his hair again and again. She could tell by his breathing that he wasn't quite asleep yet, but would be soon. He never slept as deeply or as calmly as in these naps - even in their bed, there was often tension in him as if he was ready to wake and grab his sword. (She knew, because she felt it, too.)

 They soothed it away the best they could, with touches that were for comfort or for pleasure, and quiet conversations. There was so much they've never told anyone, because they thought it unneeded or because they had no one to tell it to, but the relief that came as these words melted along with shadows into the sunrise, said otherwise

 Sometimes it was not enough and she rose with tension, wading through the feeling like she still needed to prove something to everyone, the servants and the fishermen and her father, to whom the War of Dawn was far and mythical and more a figment of imagination than something tangible, to whom her knighthood meant far less than her skill to secure enough food and goods to last through a harsh winter. It stung and drove her to pour over books and ledgers, and sit in meetings and ride from village to village, like the spurs of a determined rider chasing a horse onward. But time helped, as did having routine to her days, which was already worn to round corners through the months.

 These gilded, warm days, finding Jaime's nap spots was part of it. It had started by accident, at first seeking him out to have lunch together when she had the mind to have some, only to find him fast asleep, face relaxed in a way that made her breath catch. Now, it was a well-known secret and servants would often tell her which direction Ser Jaime had went in when she passes them in the corridors, and even her father would inquire if it isn't time to see what sunny spot her husband has hunted down today, seemingly glad to have an excuse to give her a break.

 Some quiet days like today, she ended up joining him to let an hour or two slip by buoyant and joyful like a paper boat on a sunlight's river.

 Her Septa would call this laziness, deem her slothful, ungrateful child, just as she had when Brienne had run away to nap beneath this very tree, or clamber over rocks and chase the waves. But she was learning that taking time to be, to rest was a sort of diligence too, a kind of responsibility she held toward herself. If she drove herself to exhaustion beyond sense like she did the first months here, which made her sharp where she needed to listen and dull where she needed to be clever, how could she learn and how could she lead? There would be times for that, too, if a crisis struck. When she became the Evenstar. Brienne misliked to think of it.

 In truth, she recalled her Septa's spiteful words less and less these days, enough that when they did echo with malice it took her by surprise. But her shield, crafted by soft whispers of love and quiet moments like these and the approving smile of her father, held strong and the ghosts of words beat themselves into exhaustion against it, retreating until another time. There were bruises on her hands, from holding onto it so strongly, but it was nothing compared to the wounds she used to bear after these confrontations. Jaime always seemed to sense these days and was quick to soothe them with his kisses and or to tease till her fond annoyance made her forget about the sting.

 "Brienne," he interrupted her thoughts and she made a little, inquiring 'hm?' sound as she brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. He had cut it some, months ago, but now it was growing long again and she couldn't quite get enough excuses to feel soft strands trickling through her fingers.

 "If I am a cat, then a stray that is finally learning the little pleasures of having a home."

 It still took her by surprise, sometimes, the way he paid attention to her and thought of the things she said, for days. It used to bring unease to her, because she had always felt clumsy with her words and he never hesitated to peel and tear all that she said (and didn't) apart to dig teeth and claw in the exposed flesh beneath. Nowadays, Brienne marveled that he would look still, for no reason other than keeping it safe and gentle in his hands.

 "You had a home before, Jaime," she told him, not chastising, but reminding that she had not been the start and end of him or the good that he's had, or has been.

 He turned his head, nuzzling into her hand that was cupping his cheek: "I had houses and places I lived, before." Jaime looked up at her then and the silence sang the before you softer, yet more all-encompassing than the wind rustling leaves above. There were no words she knew the shape of to say in return, so she leaned down and pressed a soft and lingering kiss to his lips, then forehead.

 After all, what is a home or a lighthouse without its cat, if not a building that doesn't quite know its soul?

 With that thought, Brienne leaned against the bark and let the oak's solidity and Jaime's weight in her lap anchor her deeper in peace and then, into sleep.

[uservillanelle]

Killing Eve ― 3x06 (Review)

The time has finally come for yet another review. I can’t believe we only have two more episodes and it will be the end of season 3. Seriously, Killing Eve should AT LEAST have 10 solid episodes per season as most of other shows do. It would be just enough content (more than we get now) and without having to stretch things out. Now, theres A LOT to talk about, so I’ll try my best to touch upon as many things and details as I can! So sit back, grab your tea/coffee and let’s get started!

Title cards

I covered this topic back in 3x04 review, but they did it again, and this time the title card game is somewhat different. It’s really apparent that they are experimenting with editing and trying new things and that’s good, because we know that not only they want characters to develop, but to improve and change the editing and production of the show itself.

It was a bit unusual when they swapped from location titles to character names back in 3x04, but this time it was actually fun. I mean “PISS OFF FOREVER?!” This cracked me up sooo bad, I had to rewatch it several times lmao!! And don’t even try to tell me that they left Niko alive for THIS. It’s not the first time he rejects Eve and wants to get away from her, so what is the point of that scene with him? We didn’t get any new information or knowledge. So... I’ll call that waste of precious screen time which, in this case, should be dedicated for Eve’s personal character story because hell, she’s the one who deserves it the most.

Then they did it again with CUBA/NOT CUBA and honestly it cracked me up, AGAIN! I actually loved they did something like this, even though it kind of gave this comedy type of feel knowing how dark and complicated this show actually is. And of course the “THIS IS BULLSHIT” was exactly what Oksana said at the meeting with Helene not so long ago, so them reflecting on that and showing the phrase as a title is so relatable and at the same time kind of expresses how Oksana feels and what she thinks. 

So far they haven’t really decided as to what kind of editing style they are going for, but I do hope that at the end of this season they realize how they will carry the show onwards starting with season 4, because them keeping this up and changing things constantly is not a good thing. Many people find it annoying and really, they aren’t used to any of that, so I hope season 4 will have a more consistent style when it comes to editing and carrying the main storylines, ect!

Niko (ft. Eve)

There isn’t really much to talk about here, other than... Niko being alive makes NO sense, whatsoever. I personally wasn’t expecting to see him being killed off or anything similar to that, but since they basically PITCHFORKED him, just let him die, okay? There is NO way he could’ve possibly survived something like this and that means they have to have a VERY big reason that would, you know, justify him surviving so fans can “ignore” the fact that it doesn’t make sense to begin with. So far, they didn’t provide any reason for that. Niko didn’t say anything useful to Eve... nor did Eve. She was just rejected again and had a confrontation with Niko’s uncle, I believe. Wow, someone of his family members don’t like Eve. What a shocker, right? 

One of the very few options that I could see happening and making sense is for Niko to be alive and for Eve to make a decision and choose Villanelle over him. Not because she lost everybody and she’s the only one she has left, but to be able to choose her because she WANTS to. Instead, what did we see? We saw a very desperate and determined Eve who’s willing to go that extra mile to find whoever hurt Niko. Despite everything, a part of her still has hope for them even now so maaybe, after those fancy “PISS OFF FOREVER” words, Eve will finally come to her senses? Even though most of following scenes had her feeling the same way. So I really have no idea what else to expect and why Niko is still there. 

There’s also a theory going around about how Eve should pull the plug and kill her husband lol. I mean, that way, their conversation from the very first episode about how Eve could kill Niko and that storyline could come full circle, but given what we saw of Eve and her values and mental state.. yeah I don’t see her doing that anytime soon, or ever, in fact. She’s still clinging to Niko somewhat and she must go REALLY wild and dark in order to do something like this. Though, I must admit... I kind of would love to see it as well! At the end of the day we all want dark!Eve to rise... and she is getting there, believe me!

Villanelle & Helene

I’m very conflicted about this duo. Especially after watching the promo/preview of upcoming episode. Yeah... I’m just going to throw it out there. I think Villanelle will end up killing Helene. The meeting wasn’t exactly successful, as Dasha of course lied to Villanelle about having all the control or probably, the description of a Keeper is quite different to Helene and Dasha than what Villanelle already knew about it thanks to Konstantin. So.. could it be that back in 1x07 Konstantin lied to her? Or that Dasha told Helene something different to get Villanelle in line and believing she is actually “moving up” in the world? Honestly, still much to think about.

I LOVED Villanelle’s, or should I say, Oksana’s outfit during the meeting and especially how big of a mess her hair was. I mean the hair perfectly reflects her inner state and yeah, she IS  a mess and she has every reason to be. Someone previously mentioned how Villanelle was the one who went to Russia, but it was Oksana who left it and now I’m starting to really see and feel just how true it is. I mean this episode was almost all Oksana, except a couple of moments where she tried her best to keep her defenses up, for instance being sarcastic with Helene. “Are you trying to seduce me?” I mean... I wouldn’t mind them getting some.. buut, it’s not going to happen. Still, those lines were hilarious as much as they were iconic and yeah, in that moment she was trying to play her main character, which is Villanelle but as soon as she spotted the post card it was over. Oksana took over and she freaked out. The bad thing about this is that she is very emotional and very vulnerable right now, her mind and emotions are all over the place and that could be why she didn’t really think about Dasha being the one who lied to her? Or maybe she did think about it but we aren’t aware of it yet? This can’t mean anything good and I am honestly concerned for her. 

What else I noticed from that scene is that Helene was quite open in terms of deciding to speak to her daughter I’m guessing, in front of Villanelle while not really you know, feeling like she could be in danger? Despite the fact that she is literally standing in front of a killer. I guess she is really used to that and her job is meeting a lot of assassins and other dangerous people? And then there is Villanelle who keeps asking her all kinds of questions, silly or not, she did ask whether Helene was her real name and yet she didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t answer any of Villanelle’s questions and that is again, concerning. So maybe Helene isn’t her name, but that’s kind of ironic, knowing that Villanelle isn’t really her name either. So yeah, seeing Helene be so...cool around Villanelle especially while she was freaking the fuck out should say something and that probably means she knows exactly how to handle such people and situations like this. I’ll definitely keep my eyes on her from now on. 

Eve

Our precious Eve is finally getting some quality screen time. Not enough, but at least she’s getting some. What I absolutely LOVED about her in this episode is just how confident and sure she is about Villanelle not being the one who hurt Niko. Yeah, let’s remember that the last time she and Villanelle saw each other was on the damn bus where they had a major fight and a kiss. That was Villanelle and she was such a smug asshole there and everything and thinking about this now, it’s completely different person from who Oksana is and it’s mindblowing actually. So to think that Eve didn’t consider Villanelle being the one who hurt Niko, despite there not being ANY evidence that state that is just... their connection is simply incredible. No matter how many times Villanelle and Eve end up hurting each other, they STILL have this hidden trust within each other that I find extremely fascinating and then Eve gets the photos of Bertha Kruger and of course, that’s what Villanelle was doing while Eve was in Poland coming to visit Niko. I’m glad that there is this alibi in Villanelle’s defense to show that she was doing something else, KILLING someone else at the time and the fact that Eve thought that it was Villanelle who killed her, even if she did it in a “nice” way... is beyond me. There is really no one else who knows and understands Villanelle/Oksana better than Eve. Period. 

Another important aspect that is worth mentioning is the fact that the writers are kind of robbing Eve of screen time and character development. We haven’t seen her much this season and especially during the previous couple of episodes and even in this one it seems like Carolyn got more screen time than she did and Villanelle as well, who JUST had her solo episode, which is kind of unfair. However, I do think Villanelle deserved to have her own episode now since her character is going through such a huge change, meanwhile Eve is going through her thing, but it doesn’t feel like it’s as huge and as extreme as it is for Villanelle. At least that’s what they’re showing us. But yeah, I think season 2 was way more about exploring Eve’s inner darkness than this season, which is more about acceptance of her dark self and her feelings for Villanelle. Let’s just trust the writers and see how they will handle Eve’s character during the next remaining episodes and only then we can actually judge the crew and the lack of screen time Eve received, because really, what I noticed this season is that Suzanne really wanted to show EVERY character and so far she has been sucessful in that for the most part, with one flaw, that is the screen time management and yeah, we shall see how that aspect is handled in the next episodes!

Villanelle & Konstantin

So we got the hockey game scene. I’m glad to know that Konstantin didn’t set Oksana up by sending her to some strangers. One of the highlights of their conversation was Konstantin’s comment about Oksana’s mother who he thought was INSANE rather than evil and was hoping for Oksana to awknowledge it instead of killing her. Guess she didn’t really consider it as an option? But does that mean then that Oksana as just as insane and isn’t aware of it just like Tatiana wasn’t? At the same time we know that Oksana KNOWS there is something wrong with her, at least that’s what everybody else keeps telling her, so I wouldn’t call her insane. At the same time seeing that Konstantin wanted to give this chance for Oksana to get some kind of closure by being with her family and especially her mother does show just how much he cares about her. Until... their conversation shifts. Again.

So apparently Oksana knows about Konstantin’s plan to “get out” and she is suddenly interested in joining him. Now this part of the conversation PAINFULLY reminds me of their last interaction of season 2 finale. Especially the part where Konstantin chooses his family instead of Villanelle, who is ALSO his family, whether he admits it or not. They might not be related by blood, but he IS her father and seeing not only her own mother reject her but her father as well will do things to you. So again, Konstantin leaning towards choosing to leave with Irina and leaving Oksana behind only to promise her that he will come and get her is not enough. He betrayed her several times... he left her at the prison in season 1 even though he “tried” to get her out of it. He betrayed her at the end of season 2 by choosing his family over her, and now... now it feels like ANOTHER betrayal is coming and to be completely honest I don’t think Oksana can handle so much rejection at the moment. Of course, Konstantin can’t just pick Oksana over his own daughter, but it’s wrong to play with her like that. She killed her own mother and left her blood family in order to get back to her REAL family who is Konstantin and Irina and neither of them show enough of determination to bring her along which really saddens me. I mean Oksana went through enough as it is... I’m not sure how she will get through this if Konstantin will leave her again... and I won’t have it either. They better not do it again.

Villanelle & Irina (ft. Konstantin) 

I just love, love, LOOVE these two together. I mean 1x08 is one of the most iconic Killing Eve episodes and they are the biggest reason why. I’ve been waiting for them to get together again and those a couple of scenes they got to spend together didn’t disappoint. I LIVE for their interactions. I mean what can be better than two sisters bonding? Especially when it’s Vasiliev sisters. Them fighting like true siblings do, having fun while both of them having this insanely chaotic driving session and at the same time touching upon going to CUBA as well as finding out Irina’s feelings towards her own mom and her boyfriend, who Villanelle doesn’t see any reason NOT to encourage her to kill him lmao! I mean, first Irina sarcastically calls Villanelle a “real role model” and 15 seconds later she is literally driving over her step-father LOL! I mean... I am SO proud of her. She really did take her sisters advice on this without much of thinking and at the same time I am kind of concerned about her. We all saw Konstantin’s reaction to her driving over the guy and well... that’s not exactly the best thing to do.

In Oksana’s defense, I do think she was trying to be helpful in giving Irina this advice, since we all know that’s how she normally chooses to solve problems. By killing. Plus, I don’t think she actually expected Irina to take her advice either way. Let’s take Tatianas case for example. Yes, it’s a lot different because she was mentally abusing Oksana for years and there was lack of affection and all that, so Tatiana definitely deserved it. In Irina’s case... she’s just “disgusted” of seeing her mom with her boyfriend all the damn time and I don’t think she should’ve killed anyone for that. Besides, she was already preparing to leave with Konstantin so what’s the point? She wouldn’t have to put up with them anymore, yet she did it anyways. And what stands out for me about this is that we see Oksana not wanting to do any of that anymore, no more killing, just wanting to get out of this assassin thing meanwhile Irina just had her first kill. Kind of beautiful in a way, of having one of them ready to quit this way of life while having one of them indirectly influence and push the other into the beginning of such dangerous path. And from the looks of it, Irina didn’t seem to feel bad for driving over her step-father, like AT ALL. So I wouldn’t blame Oksana for the whole thing. Yes, she planted the idea in Irina’s head but it was her who actually did it and didn’t feel bad about it.

This whole dynamic just makes me want to remember the lunch scene in 1x08 where Villanelle asks Irina “Are you a bad person?” “I don’t know yet” well, guess now we are starting to see the person she is becoming and yeah I don’t think any of us saw this coming, that their previous conversation could be a foreshadowing in this way!. I’m VERY glad they decided to bring Yuli back this season since she is one of fan favorites and like I said, the dynamic between Villanelle and Irina is just great!

Konstantin, on the other hand... guy is in serious DEEP shit this season and now having to witness his actual daughter kill someone... yeah, I think having to handle Oksana is complicated enough and she alone manages to drive him mad so now the idea of having TWO mentally unstable daughters... yup, it’s time to do something about this. At the same time I kind of see the parallel between Oksana and Irina and how they could be reflecting one another. Tatiana wasn’t there for Oksana most of the time and didn’t show her any affection, ect. Konstantin is of course not as bad as Tatiana was, but the fact is, is that he is not really there for Irina. She’s not really getting as much of his attention and love as Oksana gets from him since she’s so demanding. So it makes sense for Irina to become more like Oksana, having them both be neglected by their parents in a way.

ALSO!!! Is it just me or is Konstantin the FATHER of the entire show lol?! A lot of people thought that he might be the one who killed Kenny. Now, all out of sudden he might actually be his father?! Yes, the thought did cross my mind but I never expected them to address it in that way. So... based on Carolyn’s forried look and silence that followed afterwards... this is the confirmation? Konstantin is Kenny’s dad then? Or maybe Carolyn isn’t sure of that either? Life is SO much more complicated in Killing Eve, I swear lol! Then there’s the thing with Geraldine... not sure where they are getting with this yet. Feels like we don’t really know anything about Geraldine just yet and really.. so far it just seems like she has daddy issues which could explain her amazing bond with her father and him not being there anymore. (I assume he died). Funny enough, we see Oksana having mommy issues. Yes. It is a thing now. And I’m not very excited to see where Konstantin/Geraldine thing is going... 

Carolyn (ft. Geraldine)

We finally get to see Carolyn uncovering more information about Kenny’s case and actually it brings more questions than answers if you think about it. Kenny calling Konstantin, him possibly being his father, Geraldine kissing Konstantin and so on. This is suuch a mess. 

The long awaited conversation with Geraldine gave us more insight as to why Carolyn is so cold towards her daughter and I get it. Really. What I don’t realy get is the fact that Geraldine decided to not mention Konstantin coming to visit her while insisting her mother to talk about Kenny. If she wants them to be truly open about things and just have a honest conversation, she has to open up about other things as well. That includes Konstantin. And gosh, she better tell the truth in the next episode because I’ve had enough with all the lies. Plus the season is almost over and we hardly know anything about her. Please, Suzanne, don’t let us down on this!

Eve & Dasha

I just love how easily Eve teleported to Barcelona lol! I’ve been also waiting for their face off and it happened. I was expecting something a lot more... crazier, physical, but all they did was basically annoy each other by fighting over VILLANELLE and their importance in her life while having this bowling match. The fact that Eve has NEVER done it before makes the whole winning aspect sooo much more delicious and come on, Eve just HAD to notice how Dasha missed one of her strikes as soon as she mentioned that Niko was still alive. Makes me wonder if its THAT easy for someone to throw Dasha off her game, yet she’s soo narcissistic and so ahead of herself. 

Eve’s trust in Villanelle continues to AMAZE me, like no matter what Dasha told her she STILL denied all of her bullshit as if it was nothing and that is coming from someone who had only met Villanelle a handful of times. This is such a nice parallel to season 2 finale where Carolyn told Eve that Villanelle wouldn’t do the same for her. Not only did Eve figure out who Dasha was and that Villanelle was working for her, but she actually went to Barcelona to confront Dasha like that and call her out without much of hesitation. Again, Dasha mentioned “killing” Eve and that is concerning. There is a reason Carolyn told Eve that Dasha ended up killing one of her own... and that, I feel, is huge foreshadowing for upcoming episodes. Dasha IS the problem and she will cause even more. Honestly, I’m afraid she might do something to Villanelle or Konstantin for that matter. After all, she DID kill one of her own to save her own ass and I bet she can and will try to do it again.

Villanelle/Oksana (ft. Dasha)

To put it lightly, Oksana is a mess. She is going through a LOT. We’ve never seen her this vulnerable and emotional before and she has EVERY reason to feel this way. Now, it is sad that people seem to be struggling to separate Villanelle from Oksana. Like I’ve mentioned in my previous post, this episode was almost 95% Oksana and the rest 5% of her trying her best to look somewhat like her old self mostly at the meeting with Helene and during her next kill. After killing her own mother, she doesn’t see or feel the same way about killing. At least not right now. It’s a lot more difficult for her to turn her emotions off now that they are so intense and she can’t focus clearly. She is becoming sloppy at her job and she doesn’t want to do any of it anymore. Now that I’m thinking about it, we’ve seen more of Villanelle so far than we have of Oksana. The previous two seasons we saw only this confident persona that Oksana has created with several occasions where her real self comes to surface. And this season it’s all about peeling those layers, of slowly peeling away Villanelle and getting to meet Oksana. So, we are sooo used to seeing Villanelle in action, her interact with people that we can’t see her being emotional, let alone crying. It’s not like her. Because it’s NOT her. It’s Oksana and don’t know her enough to know what she is like and what is in character for her. Truth is, she is vulnerable, hurt and in pain. She is going through the death of her mother, the loss of her family, the loss of control and being manipulated (again)  by others in doing something for them. It all was building up and now she can’t escape those feelings anymore and she wants to quit. 

I feel like this time she REALLY means it. She really wants to quit and she is willing to give away EVERYTHING. The apartment, the clothes.. and EVE. The first time I’ve watched the scene I got really concerned and scared... because that means Villanelle is willing to leave Eve like that. At the same time I started to realize that this is sooo much bigger than Eve or them being together. This is Oksana wanting to have a new life... and she wants it so bad, she is willing to leave Eve behind. This, right here.. it called CHARACTER GROWTH and I am soo proud of her for reaching this point, of wanting this life, wanting something for HERSELF even if it means giving away everything she loves. That’s when you know she is being serious about it. So maybe this will turn out to be a good thing... maybe when Eve will notice and find out about this... she will be even more willing to accept her feelings for Oksana and they might end up just running away together because they can and because both of them want for this bullshit to end.

Now, Konstantin told Villanelle to NOT tell anyone about their escape plan. She promised not to do it but then she had a breakdown and ended up telling it to Dasha.Such a BAD move. I mean.. Dasha is the last person she was supposed to tell this to... and I’m sure it will cause major problems. Dasha will get someone killed and I don’t blame Oksana. She’s not in the right state of mind and really, if she haven’t told it to Dasha, we probably wouldn’t have as much action and drama happening in the next remaining episodes. So will see. But I really do hope Dasha will fail at whatever she will try to do.

I’ve probably said it plenty of times but Jodie Comer’s acting STRIKES AGAIN! So many powerful performances delivered each single episode, I am speechless and I really don’t know what else to say. Just see it for yourselves. She deserves another Emmy and more! 

Villaneve screen time

This is not really a part of a specific episode review, but more like me wanting to point something out. It’s been 6 episodes already and we only got ONE Villaneve scene. The bus scene. The kiss scene. Yeah, it was mindblowing and amazing but that’s not enough. And something tells me they might not even meet in next episode.. only see each other at the very end of the episode and that’s on it’s own upsetting... I mean I dare to say, even season 1 had more Villaneve screen time than season 3 has. I’m not even talking about season 2, where literally they spend together half of a season together occasionally meeeting up. This show IS about them and their dynamic and how can we have it if they are not interacting together? I get that this season is more focused on character development and them evolving separatelly, but Villaneve still has to be a thing... and they better give us the entire finale filled with Villaneve quality content or else... after all, they ARE the main plot of the show for me and there’s that. 

Overall Thoughts

Another solid Killing Eve episode. Since they have only 8 episodes, they can allow themselves to make such rich, intense and filled with information/action type of episodes and it shows. There were a couple of weaker episodes, but overall this season is getting stronger with each episode and I am very nervous as I am scared and excited for the remaining two! 

As always guys, if you have any theories or thoughts about this episode, Killing Eve in general or anything else, feel free to jump in my ask box or message me directly, I’d love to chat!!

[jonthethinker]

I’ve been thinking about what I would find to be the perfect ending for Critical Role Campaign 2, and I realize how far my ideal ending may be from where we will probably end up, and why that is.

This isn’t to denigrate our fine storytellers, but there’s some strong ideological differences between what I would find most beautiful and interesting and where they are likely to end up.

To the cast, I sense it seems this is a story of recovery and discovery of identity. Seven broken people find each other, perhaps by chance or, as Matt’s opening lines of the campaign suggest, Destiny. Regardless, they come together, and in that coming together, they help each other heal. This takes time, and comes with many conflicts and false starts and set backs, but slowly, they do indeed begin the process of healing.

As they heal, these lost souls begin to explore their identities safely in each others’ company. Each member of the Mighty Nein gets a chance to feel out who it is they are and want to be, all the while knowing that if they stumble and trip along the way, they have their dear friends to catch them. Eventually, they will have a firmer grasp on who it is they really are, deep down, and with that, be able to tackle the rest of what life has to throw at them head on. So far, if I am right and this is indeed what the cast believes, I completely agree with them. But things do begin to diverge on where they seem to want to take it, and where I wish it would be.

This divergence begins in the fallout of this healing and recovery. What happens next? Place and Purpose, of course. Once they know who they are, they are ready to find their homes; ready to find where they really belong. For now, that place is the Mighty Nein, but for some reason, this type of story never seems to be satisfied with that answer. There must be a new chapter, one in which the Mighty Nein, while remaining loyal and committed to one another as friends, each go their own way. They will have done what they set out to do with the group, and now they must build something new on their own.

You see this clearly in the two characters most aware of what kind of story they stumbled into, unsurprisingly played into by the two players least bothered by the fourth wall; Sam Riegel’s Nott The Brave/Veth Brenatto and Marisha Ray’s Beauregard Lionett. Both of these characters have been dreading the eventual closing of this chapter on healing and recovery, because of how comfortable they’ve become in their place within it, and how unprepared they feel for what surely must follow.

Nott was afraid of getting her body back because it would mean she may have to leave behind the first thing she’s ever felt good at, and grappled with how that must make her a terrible wife and mother to have those sorts of feelings. Once she does regain her body, Veth still grapples with these very feelings, even when she could have everything she thought she was fighting for all along, because the adventures of the Mighty Nein have so filled her with excitement and purpose and meaning like she’s never had before. She’s still waiting for that other shoe to drop, and the day her travels must end, because that’s the only way she feels she can satisfy the contradictions.

Beauregard was in her mind a loner, and only with the Mighty Nein has she ever started to question that self-diagnosis. In the Nein, for the very first time, she’s found a place for herself, and a group of people who can actually dull all her sharp edges. She has clear meaning and purpose in working with the Mighty Nein to overcome their personal obstacles, and maybe in doing so, leaving the world a little better than she found it. Before the Nein, those sorts of things weren’t even possibilities. She even felt she was assured a young death and thus no future to begin with. But when she realizes she could have a future, she wants it to be with the Nein... But as her ability to empathize begins to bloom, she realizes this may not be what everyone else has in mind. That some day, the rest of the Nein hope to put the Adventuring life behind them, and in that moment, Beau will have a future to decide for herself and herself alone, and that is terrifying. Because the main thing the Nein has taught Beau is how desperately she doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

As I said, I agree that this is a story about recovery and identity, but it is also much more that. For me, as just a humble member of the audience, the story of the Mighty Nein, above all, is a story about the consequences and possible solutions to isolation, loneliness, powerlessness, and above all, alienation. All seven of our great heroes have been forced through their particular backstories and their mutual adventures to battle with these very feelings over and over, and to me at least the solution to these problems is, well, the community, solidarity, and comfort of each other.

For me, it’s not so obvious that the Mighty Nein has to, well, end.

Sometimes it feels like the cast agrees with me, but usually only in their moments of greatest spontaneity, dealing with the struggles and heartbreaks right in front of them as they happen. I think of Fjord casting his falchion into the lava only to be pulled in closer by his friends. I think of Beau facing her parents, and then later with the fallout of her potential bargain with the Hag. I think of Jester preparing to confront her father, and the subsequent results of his apparent rejection. I think of Caduceus saving his family and his home, and deciding to stay with the Nein anyway. I think of Caleb confronted by Trent in Castle Ungebroch as a shield of his friends form around him. I think of all the Nein reassuring Veth they would accept and love her no matter if she was staying with them or not, but how much they’d miss her if she went. I think of how easily they accepted Yasha into the fold whenever she came back from her wanderings, and how hard they fought to get her back when she was taken from them.

The reason I come to the conclusion that the cast see’s the Nein as eventually having to end is the end for Vox Machina. You had seven people who helped each other heal and grow in ways they never thought they were destined for, experiencing a sense of belonging and purpose the world had never afforded them before the merry band formed. But as a would-be-God was locked away and a dear friend, lover, and brother faded from their grasps, they all drifted in their own directions. They all had a place to fill in the grand scheme of things, and it was time for them to grow up.

And its this notion of growing up that grates me. That these moments of camaraderie and companionship must be as ephemeral as our adolescence. The adventuring days and the bonds we form within them are only meant for our youth, and the meaning and purpose and place we find inside of them is only meant to help us through the confusing days of young adulthood, before we begin our real days as adults, which may only be tackled alone or with a lover. I simply don’t see it this way.

Adulthood should not be this singularly alienating experience that it has become. For most of the existence of humanity, it has not been. We are not meant for self-sufficiency and independence to the degree our society insists upon. Societies would not have formed in the first place without faith that a person can depend on others to provide for them. If the blacksmith also had to sow and patch their own clothes, she would never have time to blacksmith, just as a tailor can’t focus on sowing when she has to build and maintain her own tools. Poverty and deprivation can lead us to have to be more independent than we ought to, but in a world with equitably managed resources, we can afford to have faith the farmer will provide our food, the treatment plant will make our water safe to drink, and the carpenter will keep the rain off our head.

Think of how miserable most adults are today, and then think about how alone and alienated they all are. They are either spending each day working themselves numb only to go home and distract themselves with various entertainments, or if they have “community,” it’s so narrowly defined and judgmental that the gains made from your place within it are completely offset by how much you must cut yourself into shape to fit in. The greatest moments of our lives are often within our youth, because while you’re young you get to grow and stretch and stumble in the company of other people doing the same, and there is no expectation in doing anything else. But we’ve decided on some arbitrary point in which this time of personal exploration and safe company must end. If you’re old and want to expand your horizons, I hope you’re rich, because if not, it ain’t happening.

So for me, to imagine a world in which the members of the Mighty Nein might go a week, nonetheless months without seeing each other is beyond cruel. Think of the feeling of security and belonging the Nein have provided for one another, and tell me there has to be some arbitrary cut off date for their continued company. Think about Fjord breaking the habit of filing down his tusks because of the support of Jester and the Nein, a habit he performed into his early thirties, and tell me that one day, he needs to go out on his own because of reasons. They can take the lessons they’ve learned from the Nein, and still have the Nein, and not be unprepared to take whatever challenges life has to offer them, and in fact, may be better at tackling them all together with their family at their side every step of the way.

People prosper most when they decide they are better off working together than they are alone. To me, it’s abundantly clear this is true for the Mighty Nein. And I hope and pray when the time comes the cast will see it the same way. And I’ll accept and almost certainly enjoy whatever ending they end up having, in this strange form of improvised entertainment. None of this is to hate on the cast or me trying to tell them how to run their game or tell their story, I just have a lot of feelings on the matter. I am almost certainly overthinking something that may very well be a long way off from even happening. but after spending literally hundreds of hours with these fictional characters, I can’t help but want the best for them. And so far, the best for them is... well, each other. And no possible future they could have will be as good as one in which even in their golden years, they can look over and know, no matter what, they have the Mighty Nein.

[wirewitchviolet]

How not to Write a Campaign

I have been playing RPGs for a very long time. Back in the day, I avoided any and all pre-written adventures of any sort because my limited experience with them was... just frankly terrible. Weird inconsistencies in tone, unfair encounter setups, too many assumptions about PCs’ motives and actions, etc. Then much later I discovered a group of writers who actually got it, wrote things perfectly in line with how my friends like a game to go, and we’ve been all in on those for a decade and change. But I just finished running a ROUGH one, and I want something good to come of it.

I don’t want to make this a specific review, because... I’m in the industry, I know the people who wrote this campaign, I can guess at some of the problems involved, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or reputation, so let me just refer to the offending prewritten campaign here as the Amnesia Campaign. It’s for a big fantasy RPG, it riffs of a particular author’s work, you can probably guess what it is from that, but, I’m trying.

The first problem I need to bring up with the Amnesia Campaign is that it just commits the cardinal sin of long term RPG campaign writing- The mustache-twirling villain who always manages to escape from the PCs at the last minute. I cannot convey just how important it is that you never, ever do this. The worst sort of example is when you plan around the PCs actually confronting your villain multiple times, and failing to kill them, which is a terrible idea because there really is no way to ever stack the deck and account for every contingency to make an unwinnable fight, or even one where escape is always possible, and especially if you’re publishing adventures, some number of groups will kill the villain too early, either shorting things out or forcing a handwave to keep an ineffectual villain in play and pretend they’re still a threat.

The Amnesia Campaign doesn’t quite go there. Having an actual chance to go toe to toe with the villain is reserved for the very end, but it does use another variant, where no matter what happens, the PCs arrive just after the villain they’re chasing has left. Now... there’s a way you can make that work. If you have a villain who cannot be reached in practical fashion, and can launch attacks anywhere within a huge region, you can build a whole campaign out of characters reacting to the aftermath of evil actions they could not be expected to even learn about until the villain has left the scene. Here, meanwhile, we have a villain with a big elaborate plot that requires traveling all over the world gathering things, based on research he does at the very start which the PCs can, and indeed are expected to do, quickly pick up on these research notes, and basically know everything the villain plans to do from nearly the start of a very long campaign. And... frankly, the villain has no real edge to keep him believably one step ahead. He is a mildly wealthy man hiring goons, mundane forms of transportation, and having to negotiate and fight his way through to various sub-objectives needed for his plan, and it is at least strongly implied that he doesn’t have a lot of lead time. When presented with a scenario about someone needing to be chased down and stopped, PCs can pretty reliably be counted on to constantly be rushing forward, coming up with clever ways to accomplish what they need to in less time, and cut down if not completely nullify their travel time. But, like with battles the villain somehow keeps escaping from, I am forced to continuously state to my players in running this that no, somehow even after avoiding this whole side quest by reading the mind of the person with important information, and directly teleporting to where the villain left for by riverboat, he somehow beat them there, and once again, just left. It’s frustrating, and implausible. We end up with a villain who seems overwhelmingly outmatched, but keeps succeeding because... well, he has plot armor so we’re railroading this.

Admittedly, having a good villain when writing a full campaign in advance can be tricky. The safe and tested formula is generally to start off with minions of your main villain, starting with some who don’t even know who they’re ultimately working for, gradually build up to who’s calling the shots and to what end, have a big side trip to prepare for the final confrontation not directly involving the villains, than cap it with a big showdown. If the PCs know who the main villain is from the very start and where to find them, it becomes hard to rationalize anything between. Sometimes you can pull it off if they’re leading an army or ruling a country, but even then, you want to work up a food chain to them.

A similar problem, which crops up a bit towards the end of the Amnesia Campaign, is making too many assumptions about how the PCs react, and who they befriend. In RPG writing, you need to make as few assumptions as possible about the specifics of what the PCs will do in any situation. You can count on the real broad strokes. The party will investigate the situation described in the adventure, they’ll explore the area, find the villains, fight them, win, learn something to keep the larger plot growing, but that’s it. You can’t assume they’re going to team up with this NPC, enter this room from that direction, or otherwise reenact what you’d imagine you’d do in their place, or what happened in your test play of your adventure. This is particularly important when you include a little sidequest unconnected to their primary goal, or you’re presenting an open-ended investigation.

Ideally, you just have a sensible location, have some villains in it with clear goals and personalities laid out, and you scatter around some things to enable various clever tricks if players think to try them, without mandating any of them. Mention where windows are, and chandeliers, and holes just too small for the average human to fit through, but don’t, as part of the Amnesia Campaign does, invest heavily in the assumption that the PCs will start investigating a sewer system when investigating how a cult gets around a city and go sparse on other possible clues. Also don’t waste adventure background note space on thousands of years of history at the expense of what the actual current problem in the area is and who or what is behind it.

The next problem is one that, were I the average consumer just buying this book would bother me a hell of a lot more than it does as someone who knows how the sausage gets made. Put mildly... you do not want to play a rogue in the Amnesia Campaign. Nor do you want to play a swashbuckler, a critical-hit focused character of any stripe, really any class out of the... roughly 25% of all classes who rely on knowledge of where to make a hit count the most to do the full amount of damage with their attacks, because practically everything is immune.

Now, again. I partly understand how this happens. We have several different authors writing different chapters of the campaign, simultaneously, in pretty unforgiving crunchy conditions, with just a rough outline to go off. Nobody really has a chance to confirm notes and say “hey, did your chapter totally invalidate one of the foundational character archetypes, because I was thinking of doing that and having two of those back to back would be a bit much.” And while the publisher of the Amnesia Campaign does throw out little booklets of tips for players on what sort of character concepts will/won’t work, they’re not written last, so this sort of tip is missing there too. On the other hand, it’s a huge problem within nearly any given chapter just on its own. If you’re making the call on what all monsters to include in a multi-level stretch of a campaign, you should generally avoid choosing nothing but monsters immune to one of the most common bread and butter class features. And honestly, given how the subject matter naturally lends to the deployment of a particular monster type, erring on the side of assuming everyone else is heavily deploying them wouldn’t be a bad assumption for any author to make.

This though, unlike the rest of my gripes, is ultimately a high level problem that needs a high level solution. When you’re publishing a whole campaign, and you’re doing it in a game where several foundational character concepts kinda live or die based on things like whether things are properly harmed by particular flavors of damage, or whether a decent percentage of enemies fall under a certain classification, that really shouldn’t be a double-blind. Coordinating to get all authors to use a decent spread, or include outline notes like “it’d make sense for about half the enemies in this chapter to be fire elemental themed in various ways, but keep a good variety otherwise,” and/or trying to get a rough handle on emergent themes to adjust for/warn about in player-facing pitch material. Even the best-written campaigns are prone to rude awakenings or hilarious reductions in challenge as turns out, say, going all in on cold damage does indeed pay off for the one with Fire in the title.

Meanwhile, on the other side of that coin, more or less, huge swaths of the Amnesia Campaign really just completely break down by failing to account for some basic standard issue capabilities of a typical party. Particularly the fact that past a certain point, you need to account for the fact that the PCs are almost certainly capable of flight. It’s a thing that happens. If you are really keen on writing adventures where local warlords are chilling out on the open-air rooftop patios of their otherwise heavily fortified fortresses, or melee-oriented monsters plan an ambush in a canyon in a vast wasteland, or a dangerous leapfrog between a series of elevated platforms over something dangerous, you want to make those low-level adventures, or else a typical party, possibly even accidentally, will just completely circumvent the whole thing. There is a whole lot of that in the back of the Amnesia Campaign. My group... literally skipped giant swaths. Heck, there was a whole side quest in the last book where the PCs are rewarded with the location of a giant obelisk which I had to cut because... it was in the middle of a big open outdoor space, and they flew over the city on the way in. They definitely had a view over those hedges.

This sort of dovetails into the next issue, consistently escalating threats. The whole fantasy RPG gimmick is that at level 1, you’re a helpless peasant barely capable of doing anything remarkable, and by level 20 you’re literally punching gods in the face and have more money in your pocket than everyone else in your home country combined (with the obvious exception of the other people in your party). Now, mechanically, balancing around that is a very easy math problem. Characters of level X are meant to deal with threats of level Y, either pull a Y level monster out of the book, or slap levels on something lower to bring it to that point, or spread that out over more enemies, then they drop Z amount of fancy loot. Easiest thing in the world. But you also need things to fit together thematically. You can absolutely throw fighter levels onto the local chicken-stealing goblins to make them mechanically as threatening as a demigod bursting through from another plane of reality, but when a group of characters is at a level where they can be expected to handle the former, it’s just plain weird for them to end up dealing with the latter. Like, yes, these particular goblins have 200 HP instead of the usual 4, so the local town guard can’t handle them, but that should never be true of chicken-stealing goblins. You don’t get that tough stealing chickens, and once you’ve gotten that tough, you should have your sights set a good deal higher than that. At least be stealing rocs or something.

The 4th chapter of the Amnesia Campaign is a particularly blatant example of not getting this, featuring a large number of “please be aware the party can fly at this level” moments mentioned above, and also just demanding the PCs deal with problems that really are beneath them at that point. Seeking out local guides, impressing petty local warlords, getting challenged by giants they must impress to rest safely when crossing a huge desert. These are... not appropriate speed bumps at a point in the narrative where the party is traveling to a location where they are going to literally fight a god, weakened or otherwise. The whole setup would be wonderful as the first chapter of a campaign, but that far in, it just doesn’t work. Particularly when the actual opening of the Amnesia Campaign sets the tension very high right off the bat, with extradimensional threats, shapeshifters, an evil cult, things that typically come later as things start to escalate.

This isn’t to say you can’t mix things up a little. Dealing with threats well below a party’s capabilities can be really nice as a chance to just sort of flex, and get some perspective on how much more capable they’ve grown over time, but you have to do it in a low-tension point of the narrative, and a little self-awareness about it doesn’t hurt.

Finally, while I really kinda hate modern wealth-by-level assumptions, they are baked into the design of the game, so if you’re running with it, you really need to make sure you’re really giving the players something they can use. The Amnesia Campaign really leans heavy on treasure being weird oddities that may be of value to a collector... while also being set, generally, in places so totally removed from civilization that shopping trips aren’t really practical. Much less those needing the party to really find the right sort of buyer.

Really, you want to give out entirely practical loot (really hard to do without knowing the party makeup, but variety can work), big piles of cash/sellables along with sufficiently large cities along the way for viable shopping, or raw materials suitable for crafting plus ample time to really do something with them.

Anyway, hopefully this has come across more as practical constructive advice for anyone writing a campaign, either as a printed product or just for your home game, not just me tearing into the Amnesia Campaign at length.

[youngbloodlisk]

Moonlight Boy // Merman Kevin AU

Part 2: Discovery & Confrontation

series masterlist

Kevin wakes up with a big stretch, right as Jacob leaves the bathroom.

Jacob, with a towel wrapped around his waist, rubs his hair with a smaller towel and notices his friend waking up.

"Hey, how was yesterday's exploring?"

Kevin can think of many words to describe it.

Insane, weird, terrifying, beautiful...

"Interesting." Kevin mumbles out with a deep morning voice.

"And tiring, apparently. I assumed you'd wake me up to tell me all about it and show me what you found."

"Not this time. I could barely keep my eyes open once I hit the bed. I didn't even change. I'm still in yesterday's clothes."

"Well, you better get up and hit the shower, since you didn't last night."

"You're right. You just got out?"

"Yeah, bathroom's all yours."

Kevin throws a thumbs up into the air and rubs his face to assist the process of waking up.

His body feels sore. It reminds him of growing pains from when he went through puberty...

The kind of pain you feel when your body is going through a change that it isn't used to.

He assumes he's just sore...

Eventually, after far too long, Kevin drags himself out of bed and trudges to the bathroom.

Mostly because he really needs to relieve himself, so that comes first. He then turns on the bathtub faucet and pulls the tab to make the shower turn on.

He takes off his clothes, which absolutely reek for some reason. The strange, almost crunchy feeling makes sense. They were soaked in salt water and then air dried. But why do the clothes have to smell so bad?

That island gets weirder and weirder by the minute.

Fully naked and feeling thoroughly dirty and disgusting, Kevin steps into the shower. The water flows down his body and he sighs at the comfortable feeling of the warm water. He closes his eyes, deciding to just stand there for a moment, enjoying the water.

Around ten seconds, however, and Kevin starts to sway back and forth.

Not by his own will, mind you. This is happening without him doing anything.

He feels an insane rush through his entire body, feeling as if the breath has been knocked out of him.

Before he can process anything that's happening, he sees a blue flash in front of his face and he's tumbling over. Kevin grabs onto the shower curtain, which only drags it down with him, before he hits the floor hard and the curtain rod gives a loud crash.

Kevin groans and tries to move his legs to stand up, but he can't.

In fact, he realizes, he can't even feel his legs at all.

The look on Kevin's face is absolutely priceless when he turns and looks behind him.

Where his legs should be, all he sees is a long, blue tail.

Such a thing like you only see in movies and those fake "Mermaids Are Real!!!" videos online.

(Although, Kevin is suddenly questioning just how fake those online videos actually are...)

"Kevin! Are you okay?" Jacob's voice snatches Kevin's attention away from the strange new development. "Did you fall? Are you hurt? Do you need help?"

"I'm fine, Cob. I fell over, I'm okay. I just... might be a while..."

"Might be a while? What does that mean...? Do you need help? I'm coming in, okay?" Kevin instantly realizes in hindsight that even though "it's just Jacob", he definitely should have locked the door. His heart drops as the door handle turns.

"No! Don't come in!" Kevin yells with urgency, which only worries his friend more.

"Why not? I've seen you naked before, Kevin. Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt, just leave me alone! I'm fine!"

Jacob is absolutely not buying it, but he decides against an argument.

"If you say so. If you need help, just yell for me!"

Kevin sighs with relief.

He has to gather his thoughts before he can deal with anyone else's.

First question: how the hell is he supposed to get rid of this thing?

Is he stuck like this?

Newsflash, it's pretty hard to dance their choreography onstage without legs.

Water activated it. Maybe no water will make it go away. He just needs to get dry.

Easier said than done when half of the tail is still under the running water and he can't reach the faucet to turn it off.

He props himself up onto his elbows and starts to crawl, in an effort to at least get into a position where he might eventually dry off.

Kevin flips himself over and finally gets a better look.

What the hell...

He's a fish...

He's... a fish...

What the HELL...

Deal with the how and the why later. Just get rid of it.

Kevin looks around for a towel... and, of course, they're all on the other side of the bathroom.

He does, however, spot the hairdryer. It's sitting on the counter, plugged up, and the cord is hanging low enough that he's able to pull it down.

It hits him pretty hard in the chest when it falls off the counter, but he really doesn't care.

He cranks it up to the highest setting and starts trying to evaporate the water.

Jacob is getting far more suspicious now.

First the crash, the water is still running, he heard Kevin grunting, and now the hairdryer is on?

"Kevin? What are you doing?"

"Nothing! I'll be out in a few minutes!"

It takes a lot longer than a few minutes, but eventually the hairdryer has done it's job.

Another flash of blue covers Kevin's vision, and his body feels a quick tingling rush again.

"Oh thank goodness." Kevin clutches his chest when he sees his legs reappear.

Finally, something normal and familiar.

He notices that he feels as if he's just taken a full shower. Smelling himself, he smells clean.

Thoughts fill his mind...

Why did this happen?

Why him?

What does this mean? Every time he touches water, he becomes a fish boy?

How did this happen?

How is this even possible?

He's read about mermaids and mermen in fairytales but seeing that stuff in person... it's terrifying.

Should he tell anyone?

Should he tell Jacob?

Kevin knows he can trust Jacob with anything, and Jacob will be willing to help him try to figure this out.

Telling Jacob seems like an okay idea.

Kevin stands up and grabs a towel to wrap around his waist.

He doesn't even pick up his clothes before he leaves the bathroom.

He gets dressed while he tries to work out a way to tell his best friend that he's a... merman...

Wow, that's such a weird word when it's you...

As Kevin plays through different scenarios in his mind, he can't decide on one that seems like it would 100% go over well.

Not yet, at least...

He starts to think that maybe he needs to figure this out on his own before he tries to tell anybody.

"Kevin? You okay?" Jacob snaps Kevin out of the spaced out trance he didn't even realize he was in.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm good. Time to go?"

"Yeah, everyone's waiting downstairs."

The day consists of final rehearsals for the concert taking place that night.

Stage placements, equipment checking, full run through, first soundcheck, the like.

Kevin leans against an equipment container after they've gone through their setlist for the second time.

Sweat is practically dripping off of him and his breathing is heavy.

"Kevin!" Eric calls out, tossing a cold water bottle at the boy when he looks up.

Kevin thoughtlessly catches it, but the moment he feels it covered in water from the cooler, he drops it and grabs the towel nearby (which was meant to be used to wipe off sweat).

He doesn't know if anything will happen, but he's certainly not in the mood to take a chance. He dries his hands off as fast as possible.

Kevin definitely doesn't miss the strange look his youngest member is giving him, having watched the whole thing happen.

"Okay, guys!" The Boyz's manager claps his hands loudly to catch all 11 members' attention. "Lighting and graphics need some time to work on last minute stuff, so your break time is gonna start earlier than expected. The car will take you wherever you want, just make sure you have a way to get back to the venue by 3pm. Go."

Kevin picks up the water bottle with that same towel and, once checking that it's still sealed, returns it to the cooler. Very carefully, of course, making sure to keep his hands from touching any ice or water.

Everyone piles into the car, far too small to actually fit all eleven boys plus staff members... but they squeeze in nonetheless.

Kevin isn't quite sure where he's going, but he knows he's gonna join Jacob wherever Jacob decided to go.

Which ends up being a juice bar, to which Changmin decides to tag along.

"What can I get you guys?" A blonde girl with a straight ponytail, a pastel patterned shirt, and a notepad walks up their table.

"Umm... I'll get a cola. Q, what do you want?" Changmin points to the extremely over-complicated smoothie title on the menu for Jacob to read aloud for him, not feeling quite confident enough to attempt it himself. To be fair, Jacob isn't totally sure he said it right either.

"Alright, and for you?" The waitress turns towards Kevin, and Kevin notices that she tenses slightly when he looks up at her.

"I'll have a Banana Beatbox."

"Good choice, that's my favorite. I'll have those right out for you."

Jacob kindly thanks her as she turns and leaves.

The three boys make small talk of their own type, and the waitress soon returns with the drinks. Kevin looks to her name tag and finds out her name.

Emma.

"You three aren't from around here, are you?" She asks, setting down the drinks.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sure the accent gave it away." Kevin smiles. "We're actually from South Korea."

"Wow! I've heard people say they're visiting from America, England, Canada, and Spain before, but I've never heard South Korea. How long will you guys be in town?"

Kevin can't get past the strange look she has on her face. She keeps glancing at him...

Once Emma's question is answered, she wishes them well on their trip and tells them to enjoy their drinks before leaving again.

What Kevin doesn't know is the conversation taking place only a couple tables away, between three girls and a boy. One of those girls being Emma.

"What are we supposed to do? We know it's him, we know he isn't gonna be here long, but we don't know if anything... actually happened to him."

"Of course something happened." The curly blonde girl shakes her head in response to the brunette girl. "We left the moon pool right before the moon started rising, and there was no shoe at the bottom of the pool then. We went back right after the moon was gone and suddenly there's a shoe in the pool and a driver's license with his face on it near the land entrance. He has to have powers."

"Fine, Rikki, if you're so sure..." Emma chimes in. "You talk to him."

"She can't just walk up to him and say she needs to talk to- oh, okay, maybe she can."

Rikki takes long strides, walking right up to the table.

"You." She stares Kevin straight in the face.

"Me?"

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"That's what I need to find out." She takes his drink out of his hand and puts it on the table, taking his hand and pulling him out of his seat.

"Rikki, I was joking." The boy says.

"Lewis, I wasn't."

Kevin is thoroughly confused as he's dragged into the back room by this Rikki girl, being followed by her friends.

Once they're all inside with the door closed and being held shut by one of the girls, Rikki says nothing. She simply takes a drink out of the hand of one of her friends and pours it on Kevin's arm.

"Rikki!"

The exclamatory nature of the scolding from Rikki's friends perfectly match Kevin's internal panic as he tries desperately to find something around him that he can dry his arm with (to no avail).

"Well, what did you expect me to do?"

"Maybe start with a simple... did you go to Mako Island last night?"

"That's not how I work. He easily could have lied! He can't lie about this!"

"You better catch him then."

"Then I'll be on the floor too, do you want that?"

Kevin feels that same rush he felt that morning. The still unfamiliar tingling feeling, and the blue flash in front of his face. He feels himself wobbling and falling.

The suspicions of these four strangers are confirmed with the loud smack of Kevin's body hitting the floor.

"Okay... what do you want from me? How did you know that was gonna happen?" Kevin's panic only grows, realizing that now four people know about this, but they somehow knew about it already.

"Are you Kevin Moon?"

"What's it to you?" Kevin is thinking the less information he gives these strange people, the better.

"Do you wanna dry off or not? Answer the question." It's clear that Rikki is quite a hothead.

"Rikki, he might be able to dry himself." The brunette comments.

"If he could, he would have. Or... if he knew he could... what's your power, Kevin?" Rikki directs yet another question to him.

"Power? What the hell are you talking about?" Kevin is desperate for answers and a normal body, hoping these people can give him at least one of the two. Preferably both.

"Dry the poor guy." The brunette says with a sympathetic tone, almost seeming to pity Kevin.

"Cleo, we're trying to get answers here-"

"So is he." Cleo gives Rikki a look, and Rikki sighs.

She extends her hand out, slowly curling her fingers. Kevin lets out a started noise when he feels his body begin to heat up.

Fast.

It's only a matter of seconds before he feels a rush and is able to stand up.

He backs up as far away from these people as possible.

"What do you want from me?"

"We wanna help you." Cleo holds a genuine look and tone.

"How would you be able to help me?"

"We can answer questions, give you insight as to what's happened to you." Emma takes a step forward.

Kevin simply gives them a totally confused look, and Rikki rolls her eyes.

"Us three are mermaids, you're a merman, it's not rocket science."

Kevin takes a minute to let it sink in.

He's a merman. An actual, real life merman...

"You mentioned Mako... this is because of that weird pool isn't it?"

They nod in response and Lewis pipes up with a very good point.

"We should go somewhere we can really talk. It won't be long before people get suspicious about us being in here."

[inforapound]

Emboîté - Epilogue

A/N - Posting this feels a little trivial with what is going on out there in the world but I hope a few of you enjoy it. It's terribly fluffy and indulgent with a splash of angst. This series is dedicated to my friend @youbloodymadgenius​

Pairing – Ivar and Sarah  (Aethelswith)    Words – 5,600 approx

“Are you ready?”

“We don’t know that they are here for me,” I replied over my shoulder from where I sat at the end of the bed.

“Why else would the poachers of the Paris Ballet be sitting in on rehearsal?”

“They are not poacher,” I smacked my lips. “They attended the performance last night, so the company invited them as a courtesy.”

“Did they sit in on Giovanna’s practice?”

There was a lift to his voice. The same rise in tone he had whenever asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Clearing my throat, I threw a t-shirt on over my head, pushing my arms through the holes.

“Yes...”

“Hmm.”

Swiveling I looked at him. God, he could be smug….and sexy, lying in bed, propped up on pillows. The cover was tossed across his lower body shielding only part of his nakedness. For a man who worked out maybe three times a week, his body was a freaking work of art.

“What?” I asked as he caught me ogling his toned flesh, with a fat smirk on his face.

“I think you should just quit the ballet and... sit on my face professionally.”

“Oh yeah?” I flashed him a smile. “You, Ivar Lothbrok, couldn’t afford it.”

“Come here,” he smiled sitting up, motioning like he was going to reach for me.

Grimacing, I looked away, “I’m still feeling crummy.”

“Shutting me down twice in a row?” he groaned pretending to be defeated.

Glancing back, I shot him a look which turned his smile downright bratty. Standing, I headed to the dresser and opened the drawer, grabbing my dance gear for the day.

“Sarah?”

The pensiveness in his voice made me stop and turn back to him.  

“If you get an offer, how long before you leave?”

The muscles in my stomach knotted. Of course, I had been thinking about it as well, as much as I tried not to. Inhaling quietly, I noticed him working to keep his expression neutral, but I knew he was panicking inside. It was so endearing; it made my heart ache.

The past seven months of living together had been amazing… and accepting a dream offer, if one came, would be bittersweet. Spending Christmas, our birthdays, quiet evenings together, it just kept getting better and better. Yes, there had been hiccups and situations where we had to figure shit out but he had given me the space he promised. It was hard on him, the long practices, nonexistent weekends, rarely eating supper together, however, moving in and letting my apartment go, without question, was the right choice. Knowing I would always come home to him gave him a sense of relief and he relaxed with that feeling of security.

Watching him now, his eyes drifting from me, scanning the bedroom, biting his tongue at the state of his formally pristine apartment. My clothes and shoes were exploding out his walk-in closest, my makeup spread out over the top of the dresser, two, no three, half-empty glasses of water in this very room, my already swollen heart was about to rupture. How he opened his world to me made me cling to him even more, my level of sucky affection finally matching his. We were smitten, grotesquely in love, and living together felt so easy.

But now..... this... Paris...the possibility of it being real was confronting. Standing across the room, I could hear the gears in his head turn. God, I loved him.

“If I get an offer, I’m assuming I would need to be there in a few weeks.

Nodding he acknowledged what I said but remained quiet. His throat dipping noticeably with his swallow.

Looking down, I ran my toe over the callus on the inside of my other foot. “Would you come?” I glanced back up.

“Come?” He sat up from the pillows, his forehead scrunched in question.

“With your work and everything here, would you be able to move with me? To Paris? I know it’s asking a lot.”

“Really?” His smile broke, stretching across his bright face. “You want me to come?”

I nodded, my own smile mirroring his. “I didn't know if you’d be able to with work and... brotherly dynamics.”

“Fuck them,” he scoffed. “I work from home mostly and when I do go in, I feel like I want to murder everyone.”

“That’s normal,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“I could work remotely and just fly back once or twice a month. God, I’ve been stressing about this for months,” he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “How little we’d be able to see each other.”

As run down as I felt, I needed him. His support and sweetness reeling me in. Sparkling with excitement, his eyes landed on mine again and by the look on his face, his brain was racing through the logistics.

Stepping forward, I crawled onto the bed, climbing on hands and knees up his body as he flopped back into his pillows with a grin. Opening his arms, he beckoned me close and I lowered down onto his front, his arms folding around me, my face hovering over his. The elation and relief radiated off him like a fever and it only fuelled the warmth spreading through my body.  

My eyes roamed his perfect skin and refined features, vivid eyes, and smooth lips. Gah, over a year together and his handsomeness still made my stomach flip-flop. Reaching up, he swept the hair hanging against my cheek back, tucking it behind me ear, his hand lingering in place. Shutting my eyes, I leaned into it, my entire body beginning to wake. How? How could this man create such yearning? Satisfy me so intensely, every time.

Stroking his fingers across my jaw, he slid his palm under my chin, gently squeezing my throat before wrapping his large hand around the back of my neck.

“Baby,” his eyes flitted down to my parted lips. “Nothing can part us,” his words and breath danced across my mouth.

The muscles in my jaw and shoulders, back, and thighs relaxed, taking solace in his words. He must have felt my strain release, as his hold around me tightened, pulling me even closer, my face dropping down beside his head into the pillow. The long hours rehearsing six days a week and performing Thursday to Sunday had taken its toll. I was worn out and feeling vulnerable.

“You are working yourself too hard,” he spoke softly, the sound of his voice humming through his cheek into mine. “I can tell you need rest.”

“Just two more days and I can take all of Monday off. Maybe we can go somewhere.”

“Or... we can pretend we’re sick and camp out on the couch. Order food and play video games all day.”

Snorting I lifted my head, looking at him, “You mean, you will play video games and I‘ll sleep on the couch beside you.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds amazing,” he grinned again, showing his straight, white teeth.

“Hey,” my tone steadied, sounding serious and I watched his smile fade, his eyes searching mine. “I love you, Ivar.”

Tilting up, he kissed me. His warm mouth as soft and welcoming as always. His tongue skimmed across my lips, retreating and calling me to deepen the kiss. How easily his tender lips could sweep me away.

“Hmm,” a sound escaped me as I shifted the position of my head, my lips taking the lead. Having not made love in nearly two days, I felt starved for him to be inside me.

Breaking away, I lowered my face under his chin and gently sucked and kissed the skin of his throat. Dropping his hands to my ribs, his fingers dragged down my sides, his fingers exploring my panty-less skin. Moaning from the feel of my mouth on his collar bone, he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and started tugging.  

“This can go,” he said as I straightened letting him lift my shirt up over my head and arms, tossing it onto the floor.

His blue eyes scanned down my front, clearly adoring the features of my body. God, I needed him. Every part of him. He made me feel so beautiful.

Not waiting any longer, I dropped forward, pressing my breasts against his smooth broad chest, the sensation making me squirm. His mouth was hungry and when I brought my lips back to his, he held the sides of my face, devouring me, kissing with an edge of arousal that only stoked the fire between us.

Rolling my hips, I rubbed my tingling core along the length of his hardness causing him to hiss against my lips. Rocking upwards, he growled, the vibration rumbling up into my chest. Without breaking our mouths apart, I lifted and reached down between us grabbing the base of his cock and lined the tip up with my slick entrance. Gradually lowering down, his thickness and length spread my walls, pushing up to the back of my womb. Christ, it felt right, and we moaned into each other’s mouths.

As if sensing what he needed, I lifted, allowing him to rock up into me, slowly, languidly, driving his cock in and out. Breaking his mouth from mine, he closed his eyes, seeming to savour the feel of his steady strokes.

“Fuck,” I breathed, tipping my face up, my chin resting on his cheek.

Bending his legs, he dug his heels into the mattress and continued slowly pumping, every inch of his gorgeous cock, grating my sensitive insides. There was no roughness, no race, just slow rhythmic movements.

“My love,” I murmured, tilting my mouth toward his ear. “Just like that.”

“I know what you need,” he whispered sweetly, his hands running up and down my back.

“You do,” I closed my eyes knowing there was no truer an answer.

Over the months of living together, his touch and love-making had changed. There was an ease to it now. A contentment. His kisses were softer, more appreciating. Gone was the frenzied claiming and possessive handling from before. He loved with this new sense of trust, knowing that he truly held my heart.

His movements picked up speed, his hands sliding down to the cheeks of my ass. Gripping, he pulled me harder against him, spreading my bottom apart, the cool air hitting the back of my wetness as his shaft slid in and out. Squeezing harder, his hips began to snap against me, forcing me to curl my hips digging my front into the bone above his cock.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with shaky breath as he pressed his face into my throat, his breath hot on my skin.

“God,” I whined, feeling my stomach begin to tighten, my clit itching for more friction, my insides aching for the next thrusts. “I’ve got to move,” I cried as I straightened upright, plunging down hard onto him, driving him deep inside.

Leaning my hands on his chest, I rutted fast, my eyes squeezing shut, knowing I was seconds away from breaking.

“Do it, baby,” he urged, tilting his pelvis up, clutching my hips hard, guiding me back and forth. Reaching up he cupped and kneaded my breasts, my nipples sharp and sensitive, the skin on my chest and back rising in goosebumps.  “Yeah, do it. Ride me,” he urged in a growl, “Cum, baby. I want your sweetness all over me. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Small whimpers escaped us both as our bodies' need for the other took over. Rutting, fingers clawing, he tilted forward licking and sucking my nipples and every part of my flesh he could reach. The sensations were intoxicating, charged with devotion and need.

“Ivar,” I cried, my head dropping back. “Ivar!” I whined again as my orgasm hit, my walls clamping around him as I compulsively ground down, grinding my clit, the head of his cock stroking back and forth inside. My pussy thrummed, tightening on his shaft, my thighs trembled, and my upper body began to shake.

Grabbing me by the arms, he yanked me down to his chest and began pounding up from below. Our lips connected roughly, and we panted against each others’ mouths. His hands bracing my body as his hips relentlessly drove up into me feeling intense and electric. My orgasm rolled on, throbbing and quaking around him, his rocking pressing perfectly on my front. My breath was ragged as he grunted wildly with each thrust.

“I’m gonna fill your pussy baby. RIGHT. NOW.” Gritting his teeth, he drove up one last time, growling louder than I had ever heard and emptied his seed inside. Pumping slowly a few more times, he shivered before slowing his movements to a stop

Slumping, his head flopped back to the pillow, his legs flattened to the mattress as he sighed with sweet exhaustion. Resting my face against the side of his neck, I gripped his body like a sloth, nearly giggling at the feeling of our juices working their way out.

“My love,” I whispered feeling grateful for everything we had endured to reach this very moment, believing there wasn’t a thing that could ever tear us apart.

“Me sweet,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to my temple, nuzzling his face into my hair. I had never felt so loved or so excited about the future.

----

*Ringing*

Rushing back to my bag on the wooden table, I picked up my phone not checking the ID, assuming it was Ivar calling to wish me luck. Bringing it to my ear, I glanced back at the directors sitting on the far side of the room, chatting with the visiting man and woman. Both were impeccably dressed and looked like they fed on bowls of talent for breakfast. God, Paris must be fierce.  

“Hello.”

“Ms. Pearson?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Ida from The Oslo Medical Clinic.”

“Yes?” I tried to not sound impatient.  

“The doctor has asked that you make an appointment to come in, as soon as can. Not to panic you but something has come up with the results of your pap screen.”

“Oh! That’s okay, don’t worry.” Turning back, I again checked the chatting guests sitting to the side of the dance floor. “All the women in my family have funny tissue. It often comes back as suspicious but it’s always fine.”

“Sarah, the doctor would like to see you. Can you come today?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I just don’t have time this week. I’ll call after the weekend and maybe set something up.”

“Ms. Pearson, your pregnancy test came back positive.”

“Ah, there’s been an error. I didn’t take a pregnancy test.” The pianist entered, catching my eye, heading for the piano. “Sorry, I really need to go.”

“Sarah, we dipped your urine. It’s part of the standard check-up. You are pregnant. I dislike discussing this over the phone. Can you please come in after work?”

“What?”

What! I screamed in my head. This can’t be real.

“Sarah? Ms. Pearson?”

“I can come at 5. Will anyone be there at 5?”

“Yes dear, see you then.”

How did this happen, I asked myself, tossing my phone back into my bag? I had only ever had spotting while with Ivar. God! Pins and needles began to spread across the skin of my face and I instantly felt cold. I couldn’t think about this now. I had to dance. I had to dance for Paris.

——

Unlocking the door that night, I walked in with a white paper bag in hand given to me by the doctor at the clinic. Inside, were details on nutrition, a list of OBGYN’s in the city, a sample bottle of prenatal vitamins and a dark purple pamphlet titled, Unexpected Pregnancy - Now What?

Literally, like a fool, I had sat in front of the doctor and at age twenty-seven, cried, asking how this happened. The poor woman, no wonder she included the pamphlet.  

Now, frozen like a statue in the front entrance, I listened to Ivar’s cane clicking toward me from the kitchen.

“So?”

Bobbing around the corner, I could tell by his pinched face that under his excitement he was annoyed I hadn’t returned any of his texts.

“I got an offer,” I said in a voice completely void of emotion. “Paris. Starting in four weeks. Decent money. Everything.” I sounded like a fucking robot.

“That’s great!” Smiling, he straightened, but his brows furrowed as he looked at me.  Scratching behind his ear with his thumb, he dropped his head to one side. “Isn’t it?” 

“And... I’m pregnant.”

I have never seen a person’s eyes grow that large in my life. His head shot back like he’d been punched in the face. Dropping his gaze, he first looked down in the direction of my non-existent stomach, hidden by my oversized coat, then glanced over to the white bag in my hand.

“Is it for sure or…” he stopped, staring, frozen like I felt.

“The doctor’s office apparently checks as part of a regular screening and they called me today. I went there on my way home and... I definitely am.

“But I thought…”

“I guess… I don’t know anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, my eyes lowering to look at the rug on the entrance tile floor.

“Are you...okay?” His voice was quiet. Unreadable.

I could only shrug. I didn’t know. I felt so disconnected.

“Let’s sit down.” Without waiting, he turned and moved in the direction of the living room, glancing back to see that I was coming.

Side by side we sat, me in my coat, the white bag still in my hand, neither of us saying a thing. He was silent. I was silent and it was starting to get dark. We must be broken, I thought, screwed up by our families. This isn’t how normal people react. Glancing over at him, I quickly looked away, staring at the fireplace and vase of silk peonies on the mantle.  

“Paris…. I can’t dance pregnant,” I exhaled, my breath sounding shaky.  

It wouldn’t wait. How long until I could return after having a baby? How much time would I be out? Oh right! You fucking idiot, I blasted myself. I wouldn’t just be pregnant and then return to my life after giving birth. There would be a whole human at the end of it. What would I do with a human? I was potentially going to be a mom at twenty-seven and I still felt like a child! Yes, I knew tons of people younger than me with kids but…. that was them. Paris. It was my dream. My life’s passion. I was so close. Not even close, I was there. I would be trying to get back into prime condition, training eight hours a day with a baby and still likely never be given another shot. My mother! My poor mother. Is this what she was faced with? Would I too resent my own child?

Jolted from my thoughts, Ivar straightened his cane with his hand and pushed himself up from the couch. Without a word or a second look, he walked toward the kitchen.

“Ivar?”

“I can’t be here right now.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What! We haven’t even talked. What are you doing?”

“Sarah,” he spun around, his eyes strange. “I can’t...” shaking his head as if baffled, he squinted at me. “You don’t fucking get it. I can’t be around you right now.”

My mouth dropped. I was gobsmacked. Grabbing his phone from the bar, he walked straight out the front door, closing it behind. Gone. Just left me alone, upset and..... pregnant.

---

9 pm came and went. 11 pm, midnight, nothing. No call, no response to my texts or voice mails. My emotions ranged from angry and confused to hurt but mostly worried. Where was my Ivar and what was going on in that head of his? Is this what I had put him through all those maniacal weeks leading up to the start of the season? Christ.

The room was too quiet, and I felt like I had been in a car wreck. Exhausted, sore and strangely crampy but perhaps that was in my head.

At 1:30 am, I had to sleep. I didn’t know where he was or what was going on, but I had to stop my mind from spiraling. All the possibilities filtering through. Wondering if he was afraid that his condition might pass on. Was he upset that I may have misled him about my period? I believed in my heart that he loved me but perhaps he just didn’t want a child with me.

Having to be at the theatre for 7:30 am, I turned off the light. Obviously, he wasn’t going to respond. Closing my eyes, the first tear slipped out from under my lids. I must have been too confused or in shock earlier but now I couldn’t stop crying. Were we over? Was he done?

In seven months, I had not once slept a night without him and here I was, a single knocked up ballerina, just as my mother had been. Perhaps, given everything… maybe my mom had done her best.

It felt like five minutes later but glancing at the clock as I reached for my ringing phone, I saw that it was just after 5 am. The room was still shaded, and it appeared I hadn’t moved an inch in my sleep.

“Hello.”

“Sarah”

It wasn’t him. Why wasn’t it him?

“Yes.”

“Its Ubbe.”

“Hi.”

“Look, Ivar’s fucked up.”

“We both are but I didn’t walk out.” My venom shot out before I could stop it.  

“Yeah, I get it. Well, you know what I mean, but listen, he’s in bad shape. He’s finally fallen asleep upstairs.”

“I don’t know what to say Ubbe. This is really messed up.”

“Sarah! Fuck, you’ve got to give him a chance to explain everything. When Ivar turns to his big brother, you know its serious. Please, just come and talk to him. Let him sleep a few hours but he needs you.”

“I have to be at work this morning. Umm... tell him, I’ll be home for 5 pm.

“Work?”

“Yes,” I answered defensively.

“Okay,” he sighed.

What did Ubbe know about my life?

“I’ll make sure he’s home at your place for 5.”

“Okay.”

----

Ubbe was right. Rounding the dining room table to take a chair adjacent to Ivar, it hit me in the guts how aweful he looked. Pale, sweaty, dark circles around his eyes with an expression like he’d been staring at a fuzzy tv screen for a week.

“Hi,” I whispered sitting down, awkwardly pushing the chair out to give myself more room. This was all so strange.

“Hi,” he nodded, his eyes jumping down to his hands fiddling with a pen on the table.

Had he been writing me a note? There was no paper there. Home early, had I surprised him halfway through a goodbye letter?

“You’re off early.” Clearing his throat, he attempted to…. I don't know, make small talk. This was uncomfortable.

“I called in sick today.”

“Are you sick?” His eye flashing back to mine.

“No. Well, I’m tired.”

“Where have been? I got home a couple of hours ago.”

“I don’t know. No where. Everywhere. I rode the bus for a couple of hours.”

Frowning, he continued to look at me.

“Ate a falafel on a bench in a park. Watched seagulls. I don’t know,” I shook my head.

Nodding, he looked down into his lap and I knew he had been on his own journey the past however many hours.

Lifting a small black velvet box, he placed it on the table between us. There was no doubt in my mind as to what was inside. I wanted to cry. My sweetheart looked so broken.

“You don’t need to purpose to me because of this?” I said in my most gentle voice.

“Nope.” Shaking his head, his eyes stared at the box. “This has nothing to do with that.”

“Did you go out and buy it today?” I wanted to reach over and grab his hand or sit in his lap and hug him. Ease whatever was going on in his head but the look of determination on his face stopped me. “Ivar, I think you are upset and…”

“No, Sarah,” tipping his head forward, he silently asked me to listen. “I,” he cleared his throat and I could see his emotions building. He looked down at the box. “I bought this ring three weeks after I met you. Just after we got together.” Looking up, his tears spilled down his cheeks and my eyes instantly began to water. Swallowing, he cleared his throat, quickly brushing his eyes dry with the back of his hand.

“I… fuck,” he swore under his breath, clearing his throat again. “I have always known I wanted to be with you. No matter what. You’re it for me and I know you aren’t traditional and don’t believe in marriage or whatever, but I am giving this ring to you. You can wear it on your finger, or a necklace, even throw it in a drawer, that’s up to you. What I want you to know is that I’m all in. Whatever you decide.” Clearing his throat, he nearly choked, more tears spilling over the rim of his eyes, “And…that I love you.”

And I loved him. I had loved him since the start, but I had never loved him more than I did at this moment. Beneath the table, my hands gripped together, my nail dug into the inside of my thumb as I struggle not to reach for him. My touch would have burst him wide open.

“I couldn’t be around you last night,” he continued. “No matter what I would have said, I would have fucked everything up.”

Dropping my head to the side, I scrunched my forehead, not understanding.

“I couldn’t show you how happy I was because I was terrified that this baby, our baby, meant that you would have to walk away from your dreams. From Paris. The whole thing and I nearly lost you over that before. I want a baby with you so badly, I could,” he shook his head, “scream. But I know that I can’t ask you to give up your life....” his voice cracked and he stopped and took a deep breath. “And I couldn’t,” he closed his eyes and I could see the agony in his face. “I could not stay here if there was a possibility that you were going to tell me that you weren’t....going through with the pregnancy.”

That was it. My tears fell. Thick and hot like lava down my face.

Reaching forward, I pulled the black box, sliding it closer to me. Popping it open, I wasn’t surprised in the least. It was perfect. Gorgeous. The quintessential engagement ring. A massive diamond, prong-set, brilliant cut, with a simple white gold band. It was stunning.

I took a deep breath. “I walked around all day today by myself. Before you, I had always been on my own. So, I had this picture, this clear picture in my mind of who I was and what I wanted for myself. I want to dance, Ivar. I am a dancer.”

Glancing up, I saw his eyes were closed, his jaw tight.

“Ivar,” he opened his eyes and looked at me. The guarded look of the man I first met was back, his body tight, his shoulders tense. “I am a dancer and I will not, cannot, give that up and so I won't.” Leaving the ring box, I finally reached out and grabbed his hand. “But I won’t give you or this baby up either. Not a chance.”

Blowing air out his mouth, his eyes flashed wide.

“Yeah,” I nodded, knowing he needed more assurance.

“We are doing this?” he leaned toward me, his eyes large and hopeful.

“Yes, Ivar. We are doing this,” I smiled, the tears blurring my sight, “and I’m not going to marry you, but I will wear your beautiful ring. Proudly.”

“Sarah, I fucking love you.”

Both pushing back our chairs, we rose at the same time, rushing into an embrace. His large, strong arms wrapped around me; my face pressed into his chest where it belonged.

“I love you so much, Ivar.”

Tipping my head up, he kissed me and kissed me, pulling his hands back to reach up and cup my face.  

“Come,” he took my hand pulling me from the dining room. “Lie with me, okay? I need to feel you beside me after last night... and I barely slept. I want to make love to you and then sleep.” Stopping he glanced back, his expression looking worried. “Carefully. We’ll do it carefully.”

Snorting, I laughed at his earnest face. “Ivar, I can have sex.”

“No more on top though. That can’t be safe. I read half the goddamn internet on pregnancy last night. I can’t remember what it said about sex on top.”

Here is comes, I thought, he’s going to manage and research every detail during this entire pregnancy.

Turning back again, he drew his eyebrows together. “No more sushi or coffee.”

“Please!” I scoffed.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “No soft cheeses or long hot baths either. Nothing that could harm the baby. That’s my child inside of you Sarah. Shit,” he stopped, scanning the walls of the hall, “Maybe we should buy a house...,” he seemed to be talking more to himself.

Smiling, with my heart full of love, my mind swirling with questions about the future, I followed him to our bed.

---

Had I given up on my dream? Possibility. I think my dream changed though. I realized it that day sitting watching families in the park, playing, kids racing back to their moms or dads with a daisy, calling to be watched going down the slide. Yes, dancing in Paris would have been amazing, but what could possibly be more fulfilling than that. Us. A family together. I had sacrificed so much for ballet, but I would not sacrifice them.

After Alice was born, I stayed home and when she turned a year, I took a chorus position dancing again with the company.  I was never away from her longer than four hours at a time and it was only three days a week. Not that Ivar ever put her down long enough for me to get my hands on her. I was even worried she’d be late to walk because of how much he carried her. I would joke that since her arrival, I was purely the maid.  

He was a good dad. A great one. Hands-on, doing it all. Buying far too many pairs of shoes. She was two years old now, fierce and sharp as tac with more pairs of shoes than I had owned in my entire life. That was the problem with leaving her with her father while I was dancing. She got anything she wanted. He’d say, “But she wanted them. How can I deny her? And their patten, Sarah. Red patten.”

Sure, I had moments where I felt the loss of what could have been watching Nicole dancing lead. But nothing, absolutely nothing beat walking in after a performance to a dark apartment, stepping over various toys and books and finding Ivar and Alice cuddled up in bed, a wall of pillows built along the side where I would slip in. Yeah, nothing beat that. This was my dream. This life. The three of us together.

“Hi,” he whispered, lifting his head, as I settled into the eight inches of room left in the bed.

“Hi.”

“How did it go?”

“Good.”

His eyes held mine for a moment. “Just good?”

I laughed.

“Shhh,” he hushed. “Don’t you dare wake up my daughter.”

Rolling my eyes, I smiled back settling into the pillow, Ivar’s face just visible above Alice’s wild blonde hair.

I shrugged, “I might be ready to leave the theatre.”

Surprised, he lifted his brows but waited for me to continue.

“They’ve been great these last months but...I think it’s time. I had to go back for a while to see what it was like but, I’m missing out on so much here. I hate not having supper with you guys on show nights and not kissing her goodnight.

“I know babe, but we do okay.”

“I know you do but I’ve been thinking about teaching again. Making my own schedule.”

“Didn’t that little place close?”

“It did but what do you think about the sound of The Pearson School of Dance?”

“Oh!” he smiled, “you have been thinking about this.”

“Yeah, here and there. She won’t be little forever and what if we have a second?”

“True,” he grinned, his eyes gleaming.

“So, what do you think?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah,” I lifted up, resting on my elbow.

“I like the sound of The Lothbrok School of Dance better?”

Glancing down, I looked at Alice. Her sweet cherub face and her puffy upper lip swooping out from under her little nose. God, she looked peaceful when she slept.

Smiling, I looked back up. “Okay.”

“Okay? Yeah?”

“Let’s do it.”

“The school?”

“All of it. I want to be a Lothbrok too.”

Lifting his head off the pillow, he squinted his eyes. “You’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, he reached his hand out and I grabbed on, awkwardly holding it above our sprawled out toddler.

“Want to meet me on the couch and talk about it?” He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with his smile.

Laughing lightly, I squeezed his hand. “You mean, meet on the couch and start on baby number two?”

“Fuck yeah, sounds amazing.”

  @youbloodymadgenius​ @naaladareia​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @redama​ @mdredwine​ @didiintheblog​ @yourpurplequeen​ @londongal2810​ @fields-and-fields-of-poppies​ @hexqueensupreme​ @littlecarolina94​ @oddsnendsfanfics​  @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz​ @waiting4inspiration​  @zuxiezendler​ @heavenly1927​  @jzr201​ @hecohansen31​

[lordofthestrix]

( STARE ) (olga)

The unnatural guest and his instrument began silently galivanting the halls of the Alexander Palace around that outlandish stretch that still belongs entirely to darkness and yet somehow foretells the arrival of the morning.

He briefly considered knocking on his sister's door but quickly dismissed the possibility. A creature of the night divorced from his current insomnia would surely be sheltered under the cover of their dreams by now.

The opportunity to explore the scenery outside was just as easily dismissed once he understood that sudden impulse that guided him to take the violin with him at the last moment. The palace was haunted. He was seeking a confrontation.

The palace wasn't haunted by any ordinary specter but by an echo that wasn't part of its history. The resonance keeping him awake was neither bitter nor sweet. Only ambiguously inviting. After Tristan chose the space near the large window of the empty room, specially selected by merit of being distant enough from the sleeping hearts as to avoid perturbing their slumber, the bow challenged the associating whisper back. Tristan began playing.

He played of palaces turning castles and castles turning palaces. Of the enchantment of the beckoning that summoned him there, the strange nostalgia of places he didn't miss and the alluring present dancing around its daring abysm. Of recognition beyond difference, the endless waltz and the impending fall foretelling itself in the air. Of inexplicable beauty and shining, tragic splendor.

The violin played until the first light of morning opened the eyes of its master. Only soon after he realized he was no longer alone in the room.

He mildly turned to the entrance of the room to find the stare of the Tsar's eldest daughter. He stared back, no less curious than before.

A palace haunted by foreign echoes and angels. What a unique place indeed.

“Grande Duchesse” The title was painted with modern French, Perchance a result of the capricious branches of time he had been exploring and soon howled to extend to this encounter as he returned to his original position without further greeting.

Variable, melodic and poetically complex. The first time he improvised the movement that he would one day internally name Olga's Stare, he was intending to resurrect their first encounter, no more than a couple of days ago.

Her stare lingered just a moment after his lips abandoned her hand. His stare lingered in return. Notes recreated to the morning in latent fulgor by following the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her stare finds him, just the briefest moment, yesterday in the hall. His stare finds her back.

The movement is left unfinished and unperfected. The teasing disposition of taunting provocation that one can't ever be sure to be the result of the art or the artist.  

“Am I claiming a place in your world?” Tristan consulted with a subtle shade of amicable mischief after his last experiment.

“This marks my second evening under your kind hospice and the first time I see you without the company of your sisters. I'm either portraying the insolent guest, perturbing a moment of hunted solitude or my restlessness and wanderlust have managed to cruelly pull you away from your sleep a bit too early.”

@noblehcart

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 25

It's my birthday today and today's the first no stress day all week! So I decided to put out my chapter early! 😊

A/N: the bathtub scene. It's here. Smut, abuse also a sleezy club

Neil's POV

"Bryce Torrance," I repeated, flipping quickly through the telephone book, "you sure?"

"Yes," Katrina answered, the memories flashing through our head again.

A young girl, naked and afraid in a strangers bed. His anger when she confronted him, the sneer on his face when he got away with what he'd done.

It set my teeth on edge, what this fucker got away with. I scribbled down addresses and went to the door, stopping quickly to look at our reflection. I'd raided the man's closet after throwing Katrina's clothes in the wash, finding an oversized flannel and jeans that would work for now. Lifted up the shirt to inspect an angry red scab on our ribs.

Old habits.

I couldn't feel it and neither did Katrina, but I'd have to stop and get some medication and bandages so it doesn't reopen or get infected. Can't have her getting sick.

--

We found him on the third try. Grown up now, with a white picket fence and a lovely little wife bouncing a child on her hip.

"Fuck," Katrina growled, "we can't do this."

I looked in the rear view mirror of the man's car from the cabin, made eye contact with Katrina.

"Cold feet?"

"He has a family, he's probably forgotten, made himself a better person."

"Does that atone for his past, him being a father? Does what he did not matter because he's married?" My heart twinged, thinking of what Olivia had said to me.

I knew Katrina was remembering what Olivia had told me too. I could feel the sadness mirrored in her heart.

"No," she whispered.

"I'll follow him."

--

I followed him for three days, from home to work and then to this building until late at night. A dark building, with no signs advertising what was inside. I got out of the car and walked up to the door, keeping my head low until I got inside.

A thick arm stuck out in front of me, barring my entrance.

"You lost little girl?"

I looked up to see a large bald man in front of me, dressed in an all black suit.

"I...I'm looking for a friend," I smiled tightly.

He grabbed my chin in his meaty hand, angling my face to look at our eyes, "interesting."

I scowled and pulled myself out of his hand.

"The boss will like those eyes," he smirked, "he'll be your friend. Give you a job too."

I tried to object but he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me through the club.

Inside was all black, with multi colored lights shining over stages and plush booths. A dead eyed girl twirled on a pole, extending herself out to grab a wad of cash from an older man. The song ended and she walked off the stage, slow like one would walk to their execution, and followed the man out of the room, behind a curtain.

Bryce has to be here somewhere, behind one of the many curtains. I just need to lose the bouncer. He led me to the back of the club, into a room with a huge leather couch and a dark wooden table.

"Boss'll be a couple minutes," he grunted, leaving me alone in the room.

I could feel our heart starting to race.

"I don't like this," Katrina whispered, "we shouldn't be here."

"Relax. I can handle this."

I only had a moment to look around the office before a man walked in.

Bryce.

"Evening, sweetheart," his voice was syrupy sweet, "word is you're looking for a job?"

"That's him," Katrina urged.

I nodded, "yes."

He walked over to the desk, dropped down into the chair and studied me.

"Well, no offense sweetheart, but you look like someone who's been sleeping in an alley, not exactly what we're going for here. We like our girls to look...irresistible, decadent...sinful."

I grit my teeth before answering, "I just moved, all my clothes aren't here yet. I stumbled in here on accident."

He leaned back, "well, which is it? Looking for a job or stumbled in here on accident?"

"Both. I need a job, but I didn't come looking for this place."

He laughed, "that sounds like fate to me. Tell you what, since you've got nice eyes," he pulled a handful of cash from a drawer and handed it to me, "buy yourself something pretty for me and come back tomorrow. We'll have...an interview."

Katrina was screaming for me to kill him and run. To not come back.

I extended a hand to him and smiled, "see you tomorrow."

"What the fuck?" Katrina yelled, "you had him!"

I glanced up at the rear view mirror, "and I'll have him again tomorrow, but I'll be better prepared. Have to have a plan, pet."

I felt her anger die down to a simmer when she grumbled, "fine."

"Now, direct me to your house. We need some things."

We slipped in and out Katrina's apartment without anyone noticing us. Retreated back down the staircase with a bag of clothes and things that Katrina had asked me to grab and bring back to the cabin. Slid back into our car and hunkered down when a blue car rumbled up and parked near the building.

--

Katrina's POV

The room with the giant pink tub was back. The spaces between the plants and around the tub were now filled with candles, casting a warm glow. Neil stood in front of me, a hand resting gently on my hip. The other came up to my face, his knuckles dragging softly across my cheek before cupping my face.

"Take some time to relax. We need to be prepared for tomorrow," he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, into the hard plane of his chest under my hand and the feeling of his fingers sliding up under my shirt. I could feel his chest rising as he breathed, could feel our heart beating faster in our chest.

If I let myself, I could easily forget my real life in exchange for this one. Stay here in a dream with Neil and not turn back.

Neil gentled my pants down my legs, waiting for me to step out of them before slowly standing back up, trailing his nose along my skin. A hand wrapped into my hair, the other settling on my naked hip and holding me close. He paused, his face a mere breath from my own and looked into my eyes. Paused there like he expected me to turn away and kissed me when I didn't.

Velvet lips pressed against mine, moved slowly and gentled my lips open. A sigh shared between lungs when our tongues met. I melted into him and felt his fingers tighten on my hip.

"Olivia," he breathed against my lips.

He froze instantly and pulled away, "I..shit, I should leave..."

I clutched at his shirt, "no, stay...please."

My hands twisted in his shirt, holding tight as I pleaded with him to stay.

His face softened a little before pulling me into his chest. Strong arms wrapped around my back, holding me to him as he tucked his face against my head. He let out a sigh and nuzzled into my hair, shoulders slumping as he relaxed into the embrace. Stayed like that for a minute before he started to pull away.

"Come on," he murmured, leading me towards the tub.

Neil held my arm as I climbed into the tub, sinking down into the steamy water. Turned to leave once more but was stopped by me clinging tight to his arm.

"Please, stay," I pleaded again.

He looked at me softly and smiled, leaning down to kiss me again. I pulled at him, wanting to be as close as possible. Slipped one hand down to grab the hem of his jeans. He pulled away, just enough to look into my eyes.

"Are you sure?"

I smiled, breathless, "yes..I want you."

He climbed into the bath with me, soaking his clothes and sending water splashing out over the side. Kissed me harder this time, exploring my mouth with his tongue. Captured my lip between his teeth and tugged, pulling a whine from my throat.

"Neil," I panted, fingers curling under his shirt.

He pulled back to remove the shirt and curled over me again, hesitating inches from my face.

"Do you think I'm a bad man?" He asked, eyes darting away from me.

I slid my hands up his sides, feeling the raised scars on top of hard muscle. His face dropped, shameful.

"No," I whispered.

He turned back to me, lip pulled tight to stop it from shaking.

I lifted one hand to his cheek, watched him close him eyes and press into it.

"I know you're not all bad. I know you're hurting," I soothed.

I pulled to close the space between us, bringing his lips back to mine and threading my hand into his hair with a sigh.

He kissed down my neck, nipping gently when I arched up into him. His hand smoothed over my hip to hitch my leg up to his waist before dipping lower to toy between my folds. A low hum against my throat when he slowly pressed a finger in. I moaned, writhing from his teasing, lifting my hips to meet his hand, begging for more.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased, smirking when he lifted his head to look at me.

I whined, stretching to try and recapture his lips. He leaned back, watching my gasps when he added a second and third finger. His hand moved slowly, just enough to keep me whining and needy. My hands shook as I fumbled to try and undo his pants.

"Look at you," he cooed, coming forward to kiss down my jaw, "I've only just started and you're shaking."

"Please," I begged, "I need you."

He wasted no more time and pulled away to tug his pants off before curling back over me and flipping us so I could straddle his hips. Water sloshed with the movement of my hips, grinding against him.

A coy smile when he grabbed my jaw in one hand, bringing me close for a kiss. Teeth sunk into my lip when he lined up and pulled me down. A breathless moan shared between us. My hand braced on his shoulder so I could ride him, rocking slowly. Neil's head tipped back against the tub, watching as I bounced.

Fingers moved from my chin, up and past my lips. I stopped bouncing and closed my lips around his fingers, sucking and swirling my tongue. Coating him in my saliva and gagging when he pushed them deeper. He pulled his fingers away and slapped me with them, smearing spit across my cheek.

I gasped and stared at him, shocked.

"Did I say you could stop?" He growled, rutting his hips up sharply.

"I'm sorry," I whined, starting to rock into him again.

We chased our release. Pulling hair, scratching and clashing teeth like we were fighting to the death. I was careening towards my orgasm when a strong hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight. I wrapped a hand around his wrist, my eyes brimming with tears as I started to get light headed. His eyes took on a cruel glint the harder he squeezed, like he could easily suffocate me without a care in the world. My head was swimming, darkness creeping around the edges of my vision. I was barely aware of Neil licking tears from my cheeks as I struggled to pull his hand away. My body went taut when I came, a silent cry dying on my lips as I blacked out.

I opened my eyes groggily to find myself leaning back against Neil's chest. Nuzzled into his wet skin with a sleepy moan.

"Good morning, pet," he murmured, kissing my head gently, "how do you feel?"

I hummed, sinking down into him, "good."

He lifted a soapy hand, letting the bubbles drip off. I smiled and blew them off before grabbing his hand in mine. A breathy laugh when he buried his face into my shoulder.

"Should we go to bed?"

--

I woke up in the afternoon in full control of my body for the first time since being stabbed. No voice in my head, no feeling of Neil in the background. I got up and started exploring the cabin. It had been scrubbed and put back together after our last time here. No sign of what had happened. Unless you knew to look. Then you would find the stained wood floor under the new rug in the living room and the now mismatched lamps in the hall. You would see a long scratch across the living room window. All evidence of the horrible night we spent here.

I searched the kitchen, pulling soup from the cupboard and putting it on the stove to heat up. Sprinkled hot chocolate powder into a mug and turned the kettle on.

Took my bowl and mug and went out to the deck to eat. Sat there and enjoyed the fresh air while the afternoon tick by.

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama