#because even after they start having ~feelings~ they still haven't forgotten all the fighting they've done over the years

[multishipper-baby]

Wait before I go to bed I do have one ship I need to mention: Fox/Deuz. Because I've been thinking a lot about them lately.

[cebwrites]

scar headcanons (Hiraishin Pirates)

a/n: wanted to get these onto paper before I forgot because I haven't been inspired enough to write them into fic form, lol

oc crew word count: 0.8k

Kirin

A scar vertically across his left collarbone from getting in the middle of a fight between Daz Bones and Bon Clay when they were all still Baroque agents (Bon-chan didn't leave him unhurt either, their kick to Kirin's head gave him a hell of a concussion)

A spiky, horizontal scar (frantic, poor stitching) across his abdomen slightly under his navel from his desperate teenage dysphoria brain taking control and attempting something very very stupid that he still hears about to this day

A diagonal scar going into the inner thigh of his left leg, and stitching scars all across his right leg post-Marineford

A big, jagged scar that gets darker further in from his brother post-Dressrosa (he had a rough time getting around in the direct aftermath of receiving that wound, so hasn't healed that well); this scar tends to hurt on rainy days

And small nicks around his waist and lower back, almost as if they were made by the end of a hook

Aside from those, he has smaller scars here and there all over his body, Kirin's not as particularly fussed about protecting precious skin as his partners' are - ironically no other scars on his torso though, even as he struts around shirtless two thirds of the time with active goading to whoever tries to challenge that

Reiji

Miscellaneous (slashing) scars on his arms in no particular order, and some on his legs but not many, Reiji also has stitching scars on his right thumb + pinky and his left index + ring finger

His biggest scars are a big spiky one just above his heart that comes out through his back

[There are no other scars on his back or other parts of his body, some would say that's fitting for a swordsman but he'd rebuke it]

Rio

More than they care to count since they blur together after a while, especially on their back, the majority of them whipping and laceration marks

Rio doesn't go out of their way to avoid reflections of their back anymore - the tiger tattoo covering that accursed dragon claw on their skin - but they don't need to see it to know those scars would always remain; he feels them, constantly, whenever they move or shift even the slightest amounts

Rio has more scars on the back of their upper arms and legs but they've gotten used to those, barely feel em anymore

On the under side of their left arm, they have a long, jagged gash Post-Timeskip; when Rio stands with one hand over the other, sometimes they'll brush their fingers against it out of habit

Izzy

A mildly disturbing fact Izzy realized about himself after getting his devil fruit is that, after a while, his scars don't seem to last nearly as long as they should

Small nicks he'd expect, but at some point they began noticing what should be life-long mars on their skin start to fade, even if from a long time ago, almost like an old tattoo

It kind of instilled a deep-seeded fear that one day he too would fade like ink underneath someone's skin they didn't bother to touch up, gradually, helpless to stop it, and without anyone really noticing - a partial drive behind his dream to leave his literal mark on the world, by tattooing 10,000 people they'd never truly be forgotten and live on through their work

Tetsu

A lot less than some people would typically assume - Tetsu wants his body to be a canvas for his husband's art, so there's no way he could let that art get damaged, right?

He still has quite a few, though, namely on his torso and legs from direct stab wounds (his arms are surprisingly clean)

He has a circular bullet scar on his right shoulder after taking a shot that was initially for Bepo, now it's the center of a beautiful wave illustration from Izzy that he takes to brag about any chance he gets

Alto

Much like Izzy, most scars he gets are impermanent - but only on Alto's "puppet" body, and unlike them, as soon as Alto returns to his human form, they're no longer there

If they're injured in that fleshy form, though, that scar is forever, even transferring over to the next body they carve; this is possibly why no matter how many times Alto carves himself new wings, they never sit comfortably and eventually always have to be shed

The new wood he attaches to his head is unmarred, but mind and body (the human one) still retain the memory of his flight being ripped away by cold government hands

Migi

Stitch scars all around their right hand, slightly below the wrist, where they received their namesake from (the mission gone awry that marked them with this still a fresh, bitter memory before the timeskip)

They have a scar over their right eye as well, usually hidden by her scope; the damaged caused was bad enough that she needed a replacement, but luckily enough someone with the most gorgeous obsidian eyes was kind enough to give her theirs

Migi has few other scars aside from these two, their position as a sniper usually keeps them far from the toils of melee combat and even if there is trouble close up, one of their crewmates is quick to back them up

[iviarellereads]

The Neverending Story, Chapter 19 - The Traveling Companions

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Neverending Story, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which there's a whole Benjamin Button society.

Sunbeams(1) were fighting their way through the cloud cover as the travelers started out that morning.

The weather is clearing, bringing good spirits to the party, except for Bastian, who seems withdrawn. Atreyu and Falkor agree that maybe reminding Bastian he wanted to ride Falkor would cheer him up, so they make the offer. Bastian accepts eagerly.

After, Atreyu asks Bastian to tell them more about the human world. Bastian has forgotten that the children at his school made fun of him, and Atreyu points it out to him. Falkor asks Bastian not to use Auryn's power anymore, lest he lose his way home totally. Bastian admits he doesn't want to go home anymore. Atreyu says Bastian must go home, to help fix it so more humans come to Fantastica again. Falkor says it's no wonder they haven't made progress on finding the way home, if Bastian doesn't even really want it anymore.

Bastian accuses them of wanting to get rid of him, which leaves them all feeling guilty. They set aside the argument, because they are still and ever friends, and Bastian says he'll take their advice after all.(2)

That night, they reach a castle. The next morning, they journey away, but find they approach the same castle from another direction on a different path. They make camp there again anyway, and Bastian has to beg off telling stories of his home by saying he has a sore throat. The H-friends accept this readily, but Atreyu and Falkor suspect that's not the whole truth.

The next day, they leave, and find the same castle again. Yikka the mule suggests that perhaps they can't move forward because Bastian isn't wishing for anything anymore. Bastian is amazed at how observant she is, and asks if she knows which direction they've been heading. She does, indeed: they've been moving toward the Ivory Tower. She believes it means that Bastian wants to visit Moon Child again. Bastian agrees he would like to see her, and see if she can help him.

The next morning, Atreyu tells Bastian he thinks it's because of not-wishing as well, and he worries Bastian will have to give up more of his memories to get anywhere anyway. Bastian says it's fine, he has his next wish. He tells everyone he's going to go see the Childlike Empress again. Falkor says that's foolish, as no one can see her more than once. Bastian says she'll have to, she owes him.

They journey on, but Atreyu and Falkor consult in the air when they're alone.

'Falkor,' Atreyu asked, 'do you suppose the Childlike Empress cares what becomes of Bastian?' 'Maybe not,' Falkor broke in. 'She draws no distinctions.'(3) 'Then,' said Atreyu, 'she really is a . . .'(4) 'Don't say it,' Falkor broke in. 'I know what you mean, but don't say it.' For a while, Atreyu was silent. Then he said: 'But he's my friend, Falkor. We've got to help him. Even against the Childlike Empress's will, if we have to. But how?' 'With luck,' the dragon replied, and for the first time the bronze bell of his voice seemed to have sprung a crack.(5)

That evening, Atreyu tells everyone they're being followed, with more approaching from each direction. Bastian sleeps with his sword belt on, and his hand on the hilt, but the night is uninterrupted.

The next morning, the seven following them arrive, all princes of different races.(6) They say they know Bastian created the Night Forest and the Desrt of Colors, and ask him to create their stories, as he did for Amarganth, since none of their people have one. Bastian says he can't right now, he must go to the Ivory Tower, but if they join him, he will help them later. They, and those from each other direction, join the party happily.(7) Soon, over a hundred of them have come, and agreed to Bastian's conditions.

Toward evening they came to a waterfall. Leaving the plateau, they made their way down a winding mountain trail, at the end of which they found themselves in a forest of tree-sized orchids with enormous spotted blossoms. These blossoms looked so frightening that when the travelers stopped for the night, they decided to post sentries. Bastian and Atreyu gathered some of the deep, soft moss that lay all about and made themselves a comfortable bed. Falkor protected the two friends by lying down in a circle around them. The air was warm and heavy with the strange and none too pleasant scent of the orchids. That scent seemed fraught with evil.(8)

=====

(1) The seven princes all arrayed around the S, 5 of them on their different mounts. (2) So easy to make promises you won't remember to keep. (3) What do you think he means by this, exactly? She "draws no distinctions", in what way? Do they think she doesn't care about anything, really? (4) I'm legit dying of curiosity to know how this sentence would have finished because I can't quite grasp it from context. Is it just a way to fake in a cuss word? Or something more that I don't remember? (5) Is Falkor unsure of the truth of his statement, and the validity and chances of success of their quest? (6) One of those princes is the "born old, and grow younger, until they are tiny babies" Benjamin Button people. Just so everyone knows where my "in which" reference came from even if you're not reading with me. (7) I have no good way to work this into the summary, but "a stag with golden antlers who walked erect and wore a Prince Albert" can have two meanings and one is really hilariously inappropriate for a children's book. That one is, in fact, so common in usage that I can't find what the other meaning is to list it here. (8) Surely nothing to see or worry about here, nope.

[2ells2tees]

A year after the uprising, we have a responsibility to look at where things stand today, in terms of revolutionary counter-power on a national and local scale. In the immediate wake of the Uprising, there seemed to be endless possibilities- the steady march of capital, white supremacy, and the state seemed ruptured, and in the opening, we began to try to construct some alternative visions of life. The last year has seen an incredible counter-offensive by forces of repression and recuperation. Where have they succeeded in foreclosing on the horizon of possibilities that opened in the wake of the uprising? Where have they been pushed back?

In the wake of the Uprising, the City Council promised abolition of the MPD and its replacement with a department of public safety. It now seems evident that there is no serious impulse towards this, and that the debate is going to be between a community accountability board (which the MPD already has, but this one is modeled more like the one the CPD operates under), an amendment that would allow for the future defunding of the police, and a resurgent call for more policing in the wake of highly publicized violent crimes. The media has certainly done a blitz around violent crime in the Twin Cities, and a narrative has been - falsely- spun that it's because the MPD has been somehow defanged or defunded. In reality, the MPD is still lavishly funded, and very active and brutal. They just never had the ability or the interest in stopping violence in the poorest neighborhoods. Revolutionary movements have to find answers to this interpersonal violence and the roots causes behind it- not so much as a quest to take political legitimacy from the state, but because it is a pressing human need in our communities. This is part of a program of abolition from below- and these answers can only come from the communities most impacted by the violence.

The most important consideration after an uprising, is to ask- to what degree did oppressed and working class people come together and form new organization, new relationships and practices, and maintain these through the "trough" that follows the wave? Here we have a wealth of examples- new young Black revolutionary and progressive organizations, new community defense organizations like the Rock Steady Alliance or the resurgent Workers Defense Alliance, copwatch programs such as the one here in Whittier, and so on. Many of these hold a revolutionary or abolitionist perspective. There are also other groups which have been successfully recuperated, often because they were not built on a revolutionary perspective at all- such as "defense" or "de-escalation" organizations which have accepted government money to police protests. The usual way that governing systems try to digest social movements, is to recuperate whatever they can, and then leave the rest of the new formations isolated and feeling powerless until they either accept their own recuperation, get repressed, or disband from despair. It's crucial that we build mutually supporting ecologies of revolutionary organizations, and resist encirclement and isolation. One of these tasks of support is solidarity with the prisoners of the uprising- many of whom have been forgotten or been misrepresented in the media as "outside agitators" in a crackerjacketing counterinsurgency scheme.

What of the reactionary counter-offensive? The police and the state more broadly are feeling largely re-legitimized now that Trump is gone and Biden is in charge, bringing back that veneer of "normalcy". The city was forced to actually launch a competent prosecution of Chauvin as a concession to the people. His conviction assures liberals that justice within the system can be done, while firing up conservatives to view him as a martyr, "cancelled" (the greatest of Red atrocities) for life for practicing his God-given American freedom to murder. The conservatives themselves appear to be re-living some of their Obama year experiences- once again in the opposition, fearful that the Democrats are going to finally cancel America and install a regime of queer critical-race-studies Marxist-globalist Sharia. As they lick their wounds, the fascist fringe tries to reach out to them to re-grow, to bind to them more tightly, and to re-emerge in the next crisis having radicalized more of the Right. At the base and at the top, fascist inroads into the American right remain strong. Antifascist vigilance is still essential, but it's hard to keep them away from the mainstream with a levee built of shame and stigma when they've already burst that levee, left a lake in the conservative polder, and the Right has forgotten how to feel shame.

Meanwhile, the question of shop floor organizing and tenant organizing remains a weak point for revolutionaries here. Let's not claim an easy victory and pretend that a market dynamic driving up wages is a "de facto general strike". Let's not delve so deep into a fetish of spontaneity that we see worker collective action in the invisible hand of the market. The conditions are ripe for shop floor organizing, but so far our most militant offensives tend to be localized, and directed at smaller shops, or are rank and file driven actions within the larger workplaces and unions. The defeat in Bessemer is just one example among many of the failure of the union officialdom to be able to fight and win up and down the supply chains and industries of today's globalized firms. A similar story can be told in housing struggles- many small offensives, no coordinated breakthrough. We're a class struggling through an imposed amnesia, learning to walk before we can remember how to run.

One thing that we absolutely need to understand, is the difference between mobilizing and organizing. This last year started with an immense mobilization of people who wouldn't take it any more, and as the months wore on, the people mobilizing dwindled down to resemble more and more the "usual suspects"- including a new generation of usual suspects, but not generally reflecting the broader community even of those who had mobilized in the uprising. Many of the mobilizations in recent months were large marches or other demonstrations of outrage making demands on the state. These demands typically haven't been met, and won't be met through marches, because the people in power understand marches to be a spectacle, not an actual threat. If we want to build counter-power and hold it against offensives by the state, we need to build deep rooted relationships in our communities through day to day acts of resistance, building relationships and joint work around which we craft organization, and coordinating that work to escalate from small acts of resistance over our grievances to greater ones which challenge the causes of those grievances and strike at the foundations of power.

https://www.facebook.com/259251571496690/posts/969539153801258/?d=n

—-

It’s worth noticing that, while for white folks in the US it can feel like we’ve progressed, if you look at statistics, support (in all possible ways — from positive responses on opinion polls out to money and legislative action) from white Americans for Black lives and racial justice broadly is about HALF what it was last April.

Yes, really. It’s measurable. Many things have changed for the WORSE, and only a tiny fraction of the motion for change that has been announced in the past twelve months has materialized.

We need to learn to keep seeing it. It’s our white people homework: the minimum effort required to try not to be complicit in ongoing genocide.

[warnerbro]

can't keep my hands to myself.

Boo: [So Boo's walking. FINALLY. He feels like he can run. He can, but he's supposed to take it easy. RigHT. He's out and about. Buying groceries. Cleaning his parent's house, working on the plants outside. I guess it's summer? Cilla's apparently has been around, and I'm sure they've agreed to hang out, which is what they are doing??? She walks up. There is a grin. Because it never fades okay. And somehow they've never touched upon that last conversation at lunch right? right. But I'm sure like Celine Dion it all came back, and yeah, Boo's totally remember why, how and exactly when he fell in love Cilla all over again. And it's painful, because he knows he should stay away but fight him, he won't. So she's walked up, Boo gives her a ~Hey, and crossed his arms over his chest.]

Cilla: [Cilla's walking a veRY thin line right now, heading over to Boo's parents' place again and again, especially with her fiance not knowing that that's what she's doing, but now that it was the position she'd put herself in, she couldn't imagine wanting to change it. It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. They were just friends again, that was all. Donnie would freak out over just that, but that didn't make it wrong. Just friends. No big deal, right? None. So, she comes up to the house, and sees Boo, that big grin on his face as usual nowadays, and she gives a soft smile back.] ~Hey back.

Boo: So, i'm gonna need you to change your shoes. [he looks down at her feet.] No holes in my grass. Fresh new, nice grass. [There's a sigh and an ulterior motive. An idea in mind-- because member that one lake? they gOIN.]

Cilla: [She looked down in confusion, then right back up to Boo.] You say that like I bought an extra pair of shoes with me. [GOD THE LAKE I DIE.]

Boo: Well I'll just have to carry you then. [because when isn't he carrying Cilla at this point?]

Cilla: [And, as I'm sure it has multiple times in these past few months, her face heats up.] You're supposed to ~take it easy~, Boo.

Boo: [he shakes that big head of his,] Nope. Don't believe in that. Plus, I'm sure I could run a mile right now. But I did have some plans in mind. [ ... for us.......... to hang out.... only.... no other ideas... i swear. ]

Cilla: [She doesn't care, she still feels concern. Like, geez, dude. R E S T.] Plans, huh~? [There is a /hint/ of innuendo in her voice, but honestly, she doesn't mean for it to be that way.] Alright, then. Just don't hurt yourself.

Boo: [So he makes her cover her eyes the whole way fyi, though I'm sure she's been here reCENTLY WITH DONNIE IRPRIp, and I don't know how they get there. maybe cil just walks like a normal person, maybe boo carries her, maybe they take a car because i'm sure it's not actually walking distance but either way Cilla has a blindfold okay. And they arrive because fastFORWARD. ]

Cilla: [Her eyes are still covered I'm presuming, and she's getting this air of deja vu, because this has totally happened before, and she's being lead by Boo, I suppose. She has an idea of what this might be, because, okay, Boo. I see you. But not really, I'm blindfolded.] Can I take this off now?

Boo: HOld, on. Just a minute, Cil. [ so he hurrieS AND CIRCLES THE CAR, OPENS HER DOOR.] now. [REMOVES THE BLINDFOLD. AND LET'S SAY THERE IS A NICE SUNSET LAKE In FRONT OF HER GDI.]

Cilla: [The blindfold drops, and YUP, it's the lake. Good deja vu instincts. She gets this REALLy big smile on her face, because, no, she probably hasn't been here in awhile. Take that. Then she turns her smile from the pretty sunset, back to Boo.] You dweeb.

Boo: [car door slam.] Says the one who was just wearing a blindfold...............................

Cilla: [And she's just gonna INFORM HIM of the fact that it's been awhile.] I haven't been here in ages.

Boo: [So i'm gonna say they are walking towards now? he picks at some plants along the way sure.] Before I moved back home, I would have said the same thing. [ NEW YEARS EVE ] I had forgotten how great it is. How pretty the sky gets, when you're gone for so long you just lose a certain appreciation for some things [THINGS AND YA MAYBE HE MEAN SPEOPLE. OR ONE SPECIFIC ONE WHO IS RIGHT NEXT TO HIM MHM.]

Cilla: Yeah, it's gorgeous. [And she's nodding in agreement with him, and though Parrish sees that double meaning, Cilla does not.] It's like practically nothing's changed. Like, all this time, and it all feels-- looks the same.

Boo: [did i mention he's carrying a blanket, because he is. and they are gonna sit. okay. well he does at least. he leaves room for her. let's watch the sunset k. he nods at her words, though, I'm sure he disagrees to much of an extent. Things are completely changed. And somewhere along all of that time spent away from Cilla and the lake, it's almost too much of a memory that once was. It's something he definitely wants back, but he doesn't press.] It feels the same... [he agREES to tHA TFINE.]

Cilla: [Yup. And that's really all she meant. That it feels the same, but she backtracked on herself yikes. So, she takes a seat on the blanket, almost wearily, because, sitting on a blanket at sunset together? Yikes again. There she is, looking at the pretty sunset, contemplating what the hap is fuckening. She's gonna contemplate and enjoy the view. Sorry bro.]

Boo: [fine we can do silence. we can do painful silence. Because Boo can just sit on with her while contemplating ALL of his horrible life choices especially where they all started... which was ThanKSGIVING A LONG TIME AGO.]

Cilla: [Cilla is now growing tense under thIS WEIGHTY SILENCE, because silences... never good, man. Sometimes worse than screaming. Yup. She shifts a little uncomfortably, throwing a side-glance at Boo who doesn't really seem all that fazed by the fact that they are /just sitting there/. 12 years ago this would have been no problem; normal even. Now it spoke volumes more-- because was he in the middle of thinking too hard too? Geez. More silence growing on.]

Boo: [he feels said side glance, k, he chooses to ignore it for awhile, as his eyes are pressed on the sunset in front of him, but he's having his quiet time. Contemplation runs wild, because yes, he is thinking way too hard, as I'm sure he has been since he tore his god damned acl, and so finally addressing Cilla's side glace he speaks.] What..? [there's a half smile half laughter because stop being weird]

Cilla: [She's torn away from her hap fuckenings because of Boo's voice, and so she turns to him, shifting yet again so she's angled towards him fully.] I'm just-- thinking. I don't know.

Boo: Oh. [he sighs a little too contently because nothign can ruin this moment for him. okay. he's happy. watching the sunset with his old best friend.] Penny for your thoughts?

Cilla: [She sighs, not so contently, because she's SO LIKE, WTF TO EVERYTHING, AND SHE CAN'T GET OVER IT.] I... don't know, Boo. I don't know. I'm thinking about too much. I don't know.

Boo: So... stop thinking? [ya because life's so easy when you're boo warner.]

Cilla: [Nothing but a straight up look of 'are you joking'?]

Boo: [he laughs.] Fine. [retract because bad advise.] What are you thinking about?

Cilla: [She pauses. What exactly does she want to divulge about her thoughts? Geez.] I don't know. This. Right now. Everything. I don't know.

Boo: [it doesn't occur to him, any one of her thoughts. They do not occur to him, because all this time it was one sided. His resurfacing memories-- it was just his guilt, his regret all coming back.] I... [hopefully it was.] I feel it too. [ he picks at some grass at the edge of the blanket I'ms ure.]

Cilla: ... What do you feel? [that's what you get. just that.]

Boo: Just... Memories. [there's a shrug.] That's it. [downcast look. he goes quiet because that's what you get.]

Cilla: [She sighs, because she thought maybe she was getting somewhere as far as him explaining why she was suddenly someone he wanted to see after all of this time, but, of course. No dice. So, maybe she needed to be more straightforward?] Boo... It's not like it was. That's-- clear. What-- What changed? [she didn't even look at him asking this question. I'm sure the sun's down by this point. I guess, so like, harder to see facial expressions now.]

Boo: ["What's changed?"] Ha. [There's a chuckle, a silent one, and maybe only air comes out of his mouth, as that question completely baffles him.] I think that's the thing. [he stares off into the sunset, as I'm sure they are avoiding eye contact.] Nothing ever changed for me, Cilla.

Cilla: [She shakes her head at that, too quickly. Way too quickly, like she's trying to press the escape button on the metaphorical computer of life, yes.] No, don't... Don't say that. You--... [she paused, taking in a breath. and suddenly she became much more serious. more allie on a dock in the rain kind of serious.] Then why? Why didn't you try to fight for me? Why didn't you say something-- other than-- other than how much you couldn't stand me. I know I didn't make it easy, but--... but that didn't change anything for me either! [we are the epitome of allie rn.]

Boo: You didn't make it easy??? You didn't make it easy? Ha. You made it really god damn hard, Cilla! [gives her an ARE YOU SERIOUS look because?!?] You'd made up your mind about me based off of one stupid mistake. [hands in his hair old boo warner is coming because omg he's gonna puLL HIS HAIR OUT ALL OVER AGAIn.]

Cilla: You don't have to remind me of the things I did. I remember. And I know all the things I said, and I know all the things I did, Boo, but... Just because I said one thing, it didn't mean that it was over for me. And it wasn't. It wasn't over for me! And I waited for you for /so long/. But now it's-- [she glances down at her engagement ring and then back to Boo.] it's too late. [she shrugs, probably holding back patented Cilla tears.]

Boo: Well guess what, Princess, it wasn't over for me, either. [deADPAn.] If that wasn't completely obvious. No matter what you did, no matter how much I tried to... No matter which Rocket got in the way...[ his weight on his now shakey palms bcs hearing this is, let's be completely honest, is music to Boo's ears. Not her tears-- though, he sure was used to them by now, but GDI, that was all he needed to hear for what was to come next.] It's not too late. [ shaking his HEAD BCS NOPE, and just to show her that is completely undeniably not over, he's gonna grab that stupid pretty face of hers and kiss those god damn lips.]

Cilla: [The back of Cilla's mind was screaming, but there was an even louder screaming coming from the front of her mind, blocking the things in the back that were saying 'stop while you're ahead'. Because, honestly, all she'd wanted to hear all these years were those words coming from him. She was ready to respond, but before she could realize what was going on, Boo was kissing her. And as much as she wanted to tell herself that she should stop, she couldn't. She just pressed further into him, because it'd been 12 years too long, man.]

Boo: [HERE WE GO AGAIN. With his hands in Cilla's hair there is some much kissing going on. and on a blanket, in front of the lake and the sun is going down. She's pressed all to close, and his heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest, that the only way to silence it, was too pull her closer. Yes, he'd die happy, there, and then, rolling around on a blanket and kissing the love of his life RIP.]

Cilla: [THERE IS BLANKET ROLLING AND SO MANY KISSING, and yes, all thoughts except for the ones about book warmer are all gone from her mind, just like that. She's weak, swooning even. But, nope. We can't continue this here. Because book warmer needs to do some lifting in this situation. SO. She pulls back, almost a mirror from Christmas, minus the snow. But that same ~look~ is there.] Take me back to your house.

Boo: [and as much as Boo wants to go on, as much as he wanted to continue everything good that was going on there on that goddamn blanket. He doesn't. All he needed was that one kiss to prove Cilla was right, and he got it, right? And maybe that oNE just so happened to turn into more than a kiss, and maybe she WAS looking at him with those big beautiful eyes, so just like normal old Cilla Dodgeson always had-- she left him breathless, weak, and completely under her spell. Huffing for air, and trying to still his heart, he nodded. So he stopped. He shook his head, he pulled away, and let out an inaudible groan and himself sure. He stared at her. His lips on a raging fire because they had been deprived of something so great, but rose to his feet, and held out his hand for her. like come on let's go find a kitchen table instead.]

Cilla: [So, without another word, she grabbed his hand and stood from the blanket. Logic, at this point, is all but turned off for Cilla, as it tended to do when it came to *coughcough* physicality with Boo Warner. So, she waited for him to lead the way, breathin all heavy, and all excited for the kitchen table. Yup.]

Boo: [So he leads her to the car, holding her hand all the way there. He stop to open the car door for her, but I'm just gonna say before letting her step in he gives her one more kiss. just becAUSE HE CAN. So the car ride I'm sure is going to be painfully silent, and so they arrive back home. Boo pulls into the drive way, and ya he's going to sit there and stare at her again. Keys out of the ignition. He sighs and plants them eyes on her, and gives her a look, like are we doing this.]

Cilla: [She doesn't ALLOW herself to turn her thinking back on, even while she's just sitting in the car. That would be far too dangerous. But, when the car stops, and Boo just looks at her, she reads that unspoken question, and with the biggest sigh, she says nothing, but she just grabs him by the shirt and pulls him towards her, pressing lips together, and holding that kiss for at least twelve long, hard seconds. Then she pulls back, raising an eyebrow like, 'dOES THAT ANSWER YOUR QUESTION']

Boo: [Boo Warner had never felt so in over his head in his life, that was until Cilla kissed him once more. Just as a car ride was easy to calm him, there were her lips to remind him of everything he had missed out on. And as cruel that reminder happened in a car of all places, the look in her eyes sealed his fate. So she pulled away, and he pulled on the car door handle, and he was out in a matter of seconds, because there was no more waiting. they weren't kids anymore, there wasn't time to waste. He had a lady to kiss, even more, so when he circled back around the car to meet her, he pressed his lips so hard against hers, that sure she was raised up, and sure he was definitely lifting her up and it wasn't BEFORE LONG UNTIL makING OUT against the car got old, so there they go ACROSS THE ThreSHOLD OF HTE WARMER RESIDENCE, and torn acl? NOPE, against, the car, against the front doorway, and YEP.]

Cilla: [Again, everything seemed to be calling back to when they were teenagers. The car, the way she felt, the way she was being lifted up into Boo's arms, the fear that something was going to interrupt them. Everything was the same. She was no longer in control. Every action was a reaction to Boo, and yup, she was against a doorway. Was she now trying to get clothes off? You guessed it. Difficult, given she's pressed against a door. But she's trying with all of her might to get some form of clothing off. Oooooooh boy.]

Boo: [Where were his clothes? Mostly gone, yep. Her's? Surely, some were being ripped off now? And where were they? It was hard to keep track from all the bumping into furniture, and into hallways and out of them. There weren't words to express 1. how passionately, 2. how carefully, and 3. how intensely that boy-- or rather full grown man was handling that lady. There were too many emotions boiling over and he'd be cruel to stiffle any of it from that woman, so he didn't. With every kiss, with every touch, with every breath, he made sure that she was aware of how exactly he was feeling, felt, and would always feel. As there were so many emotions for her in the past- he'd admired her, he loved her, he hated her, but in every moment of his life, he'd always just wanted her. He was thankful that there on that kitchen table she was giving herself to him, or rather-- just her clothing, sh, in returen and surely if she wanted to she could take his heart and lock it away in that old locket of hers, seal it shut, and toss away the key. Just like their first time, just like every other time they had spent together with their bodies entwined it would never be enough to fully express how much that wonderful human being meant to him. So he placed careful nibbles at the nape of her neck as the wooden table served as a pillow to his head, I GUESS>]

Cilla: [Her head was swimming. With what? Too many things, and all of them about how she was feeling in this moment. Emotionally, that is. (Though...) She couldn't keep track of where they were, where various pieces of clothing had fallen, when the last time she took a breath in was... She was lost; one hundred percent, completely lost. And, really, it all felt too much like a dream. (One that she'd had-- too many time over the past 12 years.) But it had to be real. It had to. Because while it felt like a dream, it also felt too /real/ to not be reality. The dreams never felt like this; never had this much pure emotion. Because, suddenly, she was sixteen again, and every touch Boo gave felt like the first one all over again, and it was like she was floating. Because, everything made her remember just /how much/ it had never been over, or would ever be over. It made her realize that this was an inevitability. So, when his lips moved to her neck, giving her a chance to speak, though completely breathless, here we go--] I want to make you-- forget you've ever /ever/-- been with anybody else. It's just me.

Boo: [She spoke, and her words sent tingles up his spine. TINGLES. HELP. BUT Little did she know that it was already just her. Or it would be, from now until he was old and dead. Nail in the coffin, as he nodded, because, Princess, go on, and make me forget, k. so in between breaths his lips found their way back to hers, and his hands surely pinned hers against that stupid dumb kitchen table-- until finally he scooped her back up in his arms and they were moving again, and headiNG toWARDS THE BEDROOM. with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, help bye. ican't]

Cilla: [Ups-a-daisy she goes, wrapped up around him again in a lovely quick trip to the bedroom, with lots of kisses along the way. Then she's on a bed, and now that she's not pinned down somewhere, she's going to take this opportunity to roll herself on top, and this is where the forgetting starts, because boy howdy, she's not a little sixteen year old anymore, damn it. She is a GROWN-ASS WOMAN, and she knows what she's doing. So, her hands are going to his hair, and her lips are going to his neck. And forget chaste pecks, son. That's not happening here. Nope. The goal here is to leave Cilla marks. M a n y Cilla marks. This is her territory. Deal with it.]

Boo: [So, sure, there they went, crashing down into the soft mattress, or rather-- there went Boo. He was joined,of course, and in her natural state, Cilla Dodgeson was driving Boo Warner completely insane. Mark after each and every mark, he grew restless, and it probably showed as his fingers were completely tangled in her hair. So he dealt with it. Yeah, because he had to, but it wasn't for long, as he was determined to rip the remaining clothes off of that woman. And once they were, he kissed her once more. It was a peck of a kiss, and he pulled away to catch his breath, but somewhere in between, his eyes landed on hers, and even more so, it all came flooding back. The memories. That feeling inside of him, that juvenille, young feeling of complete happiness-- the one feeling he'd lost so long ago, when he lost her. It came back. So he stared for as long as patience allowed, until he finally kissed her, tenderly as he pressed her closer to him and definitely rolling them over and definitely bye]