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#fine line was a disappointment that led us to the even greater disappointment that is Harry Styles Pop Star
merakiui · 11 months
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[vii.] ᵏⁱˢᵐᵉᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢ
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serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, brief mentions of death/murder chapter vi│chapter vii (you are here)│chapter viii
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Today’s Schedule: Breakfast at 8. Supply shopping from 9 until 10. Read the next two chapters in Criminal Law and Logistics from 11 until 12. Take notes. Lunch at half past 12. (At some point, organize materials for school within the next hour. Arrange a story regarding the internship before calling Mother. Free time between the hours of 1 to 5 (possible outing with (Name)?). Begin dinner at a quarter past 6. Bathe by 7 and prepare for bed by 9 (10 at the latest). 
Riddle peers at the white notebook in his lap with a disappointed frown. It’s a simple life planner with vermillion carnations stenciled on the front like floral bloodstains. Inside, the pristine, cream-colored pages are blotted with black ink. He’s crossed out and corrected a few lines, adding notes when necessary—keep empty parcels for Rosa’s maze or forward that new recipe to Trey—and for all of the unsuspecting fastballs life hurls at him he has never once strayed too far from his carefully crafted schedules. Never once…until today, that is. 
“Two hours,” he mumbles, his blank stare fixed on the police station sitting beyond the confines of his car.
With the sun positioned so high in the pastel sky, nearly at its peak with midday summer heat, he concludes that he has already wasted his morning away, foregoing shopping and studying in favor of talking to the authorities.
And for good reason, he reminds himself, a balm intended to soothe the irritating sting brought on by the disturbance. This is important. It’s worth the interruption.
He could fret over it, huff and puff like a dragon readying to spew wicked flames, but doing so will get him nowhere. It will not return the hours he’s lost, nor will it bring him any closer to a fraction of the truth regarding your sudden, untimely disappearance. He resolves, while chewing restlessly on his pen cap, that it’s best to remain composed in situations like the one he’s found himself in. 
Calm and objective, he thinks, scribbling over the time slots he had marked at the beginning of the week, so certain nothing would interfere with his schedule. There are far greater things at stake than missing a day’s worth of plans. 
He leans back in his seat, humming thoughtfully. The past two hours must have gone by in a blur, for he feels weightlessly detached, as if surfing upon a smooth wave, led along by some other force that is not his own internal compass. It’s been a while since he’s felt this way. Often, when his mother would lecture him about the many high expectations she had for him, he would retreat into the corners of his mind, safely content with tuning out her howls of hatred. This response came naturally with each passing year, a necessary safety net that caught him before he could fall. Using this method, everything else that came with her also became easier to stomach. Like the bland, too-healthy meals he’d learned to choke down as if they were not-so-fine wines matured with delusion. An acquired taste, some might say, but even with that optimistic outlook Riddle would never wish flavorless foods on his worst enemy. 
The officer who interviewed him was the same officer who met him at the beach the night he stumbled upon the body with you. In fact, he recognized Riddle as soon as he stepped into the room, a notebook in hand and a water bottle in the other. He’d set it on the desk, offered his hand to him (he’d taken it hastily, and for some reason he wondered if his nerves would make him look guilty), and then the officer pulled his chair towards Riddle, situated away from the desk that separated them like a cavernous pit. Riddle knew it was goodwill—to put his fears to rest and build rapport like it was a glass house, perfectly transparent so that it would display every crystalline truth. 
“Back again,” he said after introducing himself as Officer Rayne. Briefly, Riddle pondered how one might spell that surname—R-A-I-N or R-A-Y-N-E? Perhaps even R-E-I-G-N or R-E-I-N? “Any more visits and you might become one of us.” 
He didn’t understand the joke—was it intended to be humorous, or was it meant to lessen the tension that blanketed the atmosphere?—so he didn’t laugh. But he did produce an awkward smile, shrugging dumbly. Sitting before an officer in uniform, not restrained or reprimanded in any way, felt eerily forbidden. Every infraction Riddle had ever committed weighed heavy in his chest like a pile of stones, each one gradually sinking into the trenches of his stomach, and he was nearly on the verge of admitting every misdeed in a messy tangle of a rant. He swallowed thoughts of his most recent and longest crime to date and, still feeling like a timid boy who knew nothing of the real world, looked at Officer Rayne. 
He was going to say something—have you found any information regarding (Name)’s whereabouts?—but the question felt foolish. They wouldn’t know when they haven’t even begun looking. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut with a sigh, soothed with the knowledge that they would begin a proper investigation soon.
Luckily, Officer Rayne filled the awkward silence. “I hope it was okay for me to catch ya while you were making your report. Been meaning to ask a little more about the body, but I suspect that’s not why you came here today.” 
‘Catch ya’ and ‘suspect.’ Using those words while I’m completely innocent… Now that was a little funny, morbidly so, and he almost smiled at the irony. 
Riddle nodded and, his apprehensions at a low simmer, asked, “Did you…learn more about the body?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” 
He’s doing that thing, he thought, unimpressed. Being intentionally vague. Does he think I’m untrustworthy? 
“Well, you’re correct. I wasn’t here for the body and I’ve already told you everything I know, so I can’t answer any more questions regarding that matter.” He allowed the previous topic to roll off his back like water, feigning nonchalance—but asking that question made it seem otherwise—and felt himself slip over the edge of consciousness, words coming far too easy this time. “It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I’ve heard from my friend. Today marks the fourth day of no contact. I’m worried something’s happened.”
Officer Rayne clicked his pen, put it to paper, and said, “I take it you’re willing to fill me in on the details, then?”
“More than willing.” 
As if the thread of sentience had reached its fraying point, it snapped and with it Riddle fell into that empty void he’d cherished so much in his youth, his body entirely there, but his mind and soul elsewhere. Vacant and distant. Packaged in a neat box and ready to be unwrapped at the slightest shove into an environment that was far more comfortable and colorful than the dull, dismal interview room.
When he’d passed the lady at the desk—the one he’d given such a hard time before and the one who’d sat through the filing process—she nodded her farewell. Only then, when Riddle stepped into the blinding bright of the outdoors, did he return to his body.
He stares at the list he’s created in his agenda, surfacing from the momentary rumination, his bottom lip between his teeth. 
Important Information to Consider
(Name) and her temperament leading up to the disappearance.
(Name)’s history with disappearances. (Did she run away again? Spontaneous vacation?)
Our connection as friends.
Why I moved to the city. 
How long I’ve been in the city. 
What I was doing the day of (Name)’s disappearance.
What (Name) was doing the day of the disappearance.
The last time I talked to her. (phone call on Tuesday morning)
The body under the boardwalk.
The Devil’s Delight. 
Other connections (Cater, neighbor, glasses-wearing fellow/potential partner, other coworkers from previous and current jobs, friends from university?)
What the above were doing the day of the disappearance.
????
I should’ve paid closer attention, he thinks woefully. I shouldn’t have shut off like that. 
The tip of his pen waltzes circles around the question marks. “Focus,” he whispers, glaring at the page as if doing so will cause a helpful clue to materialize.
I remember telling him her phone is still on because every time I’ve called it rings and rings before going to voicemail. It’s possible they can trace it…or something tech-related like that.
Riddle sets the pen down to run a hand through crimson locks, heaving an exhausted groan. This is, by far, the worst puzzle he has ever had the displeasure of piecing together. It would be tolerable if the image he’s trying to assemble wasn’t so uncertain and frightening, shrouded in a gloom that may spiral to depths he hasn’t even considered. This puzzle doesn’t even come with a box, so he can’t possibly follow along with the portrait either. He’s working from scratch.
It’s not a complex landscape puzzle. Don’t treat it like one, he thinks, shaking his head, strands of hair falling between his fingers. Although if it was, I’d know exactly where everything goes and in what order it should be arranged. But this has all sorts of weird pieces. A mutilated corpse missing vital organs. A murder investigation. Whatever information Cater’s withholding. The incident reports. A missing person. What am I not seeing?
He skims his list once more until he reaches the sixth bullet point. At the time, he had only called to find solace in your voice, as you were the only one who could sympathize with the horrors that had swiftly descended the night prior. It did a world of good to talk as if nothing had ever dissolved your friendship—as if all that had transpired in the Rose Kingdom long ago never drove that troublesome wedge between the both of you.
But he’s matured a considerable amount since then, and so have you. Adults can be civil (most of the time). He can be civil (usually). And if it weren’t for that tell-tale edge in his voice he would have seemed flawlessly unruffled and he could have conversed naturally—or as naturally as one possibly could after being kept awake with spine-chilling dreams of a dead man. Saturday was supposed to be the day in which you would show him around the city, get him acquainted with your favorite haunts, and bake a strawberry tart in the comforts of your apartment together.
Together. As old friends. 
Today is that day, but you aren’t sitting beside him in the passenger seat, rattling off locations and directions while he agonizes over which way to go: “Is it left or right, (Name)? Stop laughing and be clear!” he’d gripe, his hands curled on the steering wheel, and everything would be normal. Instead, he sits alone in an empty vehicle, his planner in his lap, pen at his lips, and is left to sift through what were once mundane, unimportant recollections. Everything, even the slightest shift in mannerism, matters now that the circumstances have changed. 
I should’ve just agreed to come over that day. Then none of this would have ever happened. If I wasn’t so stubborn… If I wasn’t so scared… He shakes his head. No, that’s not it. Regardless of what I could’ve done then, it might not have had a significant impact. (Name) was already busy, so we would’ve had to part ways eventually. She had something to do when I called… A run. Right, she invited me to go on a run because she exercises.
He’s halfway through writing this fact when his hand halts, pen poised on the page.
“The run,” he whispers, as if it’s some terrible revelation. “Great Seven… The run!”
It occurs to him in a flash. You suggested he accompany you and he had declined as politely as he could, and then you offered he could walk as an alternative because, in your exact words, “Azul does that sometimes.”
Riddle hastily adds something else to the list in his agenda, perfect cursive unraveling with the frantic, jerky motions of his hand. 
I wasn’t the last one to talk to her and neither was Cater. He even said she had gone on a dinner date the night prior to her disappearance, and he was gratingly evasive when I pried for more details. Following that logic, if she didn’t voluntarily disappear, the one she met for dinner would be my top suspect. Either them, or her running friend. This Azul fellow…
There’s only one Azul he knows.
Riddle fumbles with his phone, hands trembling as theories swell like a rising tide.
He wouldn’t, he thinks, but then he hesitates. Would he?
It’s been ages since he’s communicated with most of his peers from Night Raven College. In fact, he’s really only kept in touch with Trey and Cater over the years. Deuce often sends him a message every month or so to check in or to discuss and exchange career advice, but other than that everyone else has gone their separate ways, linked only by the sticky, near-invisible strands of social media. Riddle doesn’t use his. Ever. It still has the posts he made to mend Cater’s abysmal studying regimen, and if it was capable of accumulating physical age it would certainly have its fair share of dust and cobwebs by now. As he scrolls through the accounts of those he’s following, grey eyes roving usernames and profile pictures, he considers the best and the worst of this situation. 
On one hand, he’s entirely wrong and the Azul you mentioned is not the Azul he knows. On the other hand, he’s entirely right and the Azul he knows is connected to you in some strange, unsettling way. He’s really hoping it’s a third possibility: He’s merely overthinking the matter and everything he’s considered up until this point is a jumble of false complications. 
His search yields nothing fruitful. Unfortunately, Azul’s account is not amongst the few he’s following. Riddle may not know Azul as well as he knows his closest friends, but he’s certain Azul wouldn’t abandon social media when it has so much potential for plentiful business connections. Either that, or he just never followed him when they were classmates. The latter seems more likely. Riddle has never been able to wrap his head around the intricacies of social media etiquette and he certainly has no need for it.
Cater had once instructed him in the art of many trending things—the art of the selfie, the art of the filter, the art of the block button—and so Riddle knows a few things about the online world. Very basic things, and most are rules and social protocol regarding a phenomenon he’ll never be able to grasp. Apparently, if you’re stalking someone’s page, you never like a post that’s dated by years. Apparently, you’re intended to file the facts you glean from invasive observation for later use. The mere concept sends a shiver of repulsion up his spine. He’s not a stalker or a cyber-stalker or a Magicam fanatic like Cater, but he is a novice sleuth (as of now) and that sits much better on the tongue than any of the previous titles. 
Riddle finds Cater’s profile, clicks on his list of followers, and types Azul Ashengrotto into the search bar. And, miraculously, Azul is there, but his account is private and Riddle finds himself at a digital roadblock. 
“Private,” he mutters; it comes out hateful, a nasty word. “Of course you are.”
Despite that, he still makes note of the username in his agenda. He writes, Possible personal account? Multiple accounts? in perfect, slanted cursive. And then, just to be thorough, he writes the number of posts made and the follower and following counts beside the theories. 
“How in the world would you know her?” he questions Azul’s profile picture—a generic photo of an ocean sunset. “And, more importantly, why?”
Perhaps he’s the one who took you on that dinner date, that cursed voice in the back of his skull pipes up. Riddle musses his hair and heaves another sigh, but as much as that supposition stabs him through with a horrible ache he has to take it into consideration. A date… If Azul truly does play some role in this and was potentially the last person to meet with (Name) before her disappearance, that would make him a prime suspect.
Potential Suspects
Azul (supposing it’s Azul Ashengrotto and not someone of the same first name)
Cater (on account of suspicious behavior)
(Name)? (supposing this is intentional? Voluntary?)
He’s in the process of writing the Leech twins’ names when his hand stills. They aren’t always glued to Azul, and they aren’t being forced to stick around like loyal sentinels. The last he heard of them, they resolved to return to the Coral Sea after graduation on account of familial obligations. Riddle had always heard the shudder-worthy rumors that they came from a ruthless crime family, but in spite of all of that the twins had always acted more like clever nuisances or intimidating bullies rather than callous criminals. Of course it was a different story if you found yourself at their feet when you broke contract terms, but even then they kept within socially acceptable boundaries. Most of the time. As loath as Riddle is to admit it, it’s admirable that they’re able to break things silently. After all, if your jaw is too shattered, you’re sworn to secrecy until it’s repaired. 
With great certainty, the pen strikes through the words.
Potential Suspects
Azul (supposing it’s Azul Ashengrotto and not someone of the same first name)
Cater (on account of suspicious behavior)
(Name)? (supposing this is intentional? Voluntary?)
Floyd Leech (on account of connection to Azul)
Jade Leech (on account of connection to Azul)
“Ah. Well, maybe it’s too early to rule anyone out…” His pen is at his mouth, tapping out a steady rhythm. “But, really, what business would those three have with (Name)?”
Unable to pluck a reasonable answer from thin air, he slouches in his seat and then, realizing his horrid posture, straightens at once. Riddle drags a hand over his face, exhales slowly, and lowers his hand after a minute of quiet reflection. The police station looms ahead and he glances between the familiar brick-walled building and the notes in his agenda. Logically, he should walk right back inside and share what he’s written to aid in the investigation.
“It’s important you keep a clear head during all of this,” Officer Rayne had told him as the interview had reached its conclusion. “We appreciate any and all info you’ve got, so don’t be shy to give us a ring.”
Riddle thinks he might have protested then. Something about how it felt wrong to sit around and do nothing. Something about feeling like he owed you. Something about wanting to disprove those reports. Something about building a better profile for you. Something about…something. 
“You’re doing plenty.” Officer Rayne smiled and indicated the notepad, which detailed all of the information from the hours-long conversation. “This situation’s out of your hands, and we wouldn’t recommend you do our work for us. Best let us handle the rest.”
Again, he opened his mouth. A grievance must have come tumbling out. 
“By filing a report and talking to me today, you’ve done a great deal of service. Don’t blame yourself for being unable to do more. What else could you have done? These things are unpredictable.”
Things, Riddle thought with a frown. What a casual way to refer to a disappearance.
He stood from his seat and Riddle followed his lead. At the doorway, he extended his hand and Riddle took it, shaking it firmly. “If your friend contacts you, let us know right away.”
Riddle nodded and stepped out of the room.
“And don’t let it get you down. We’ll find your friend.”
One way or another, he expected to hear, but he was already walking away. 
In the few minutes he spends ruminating, he manages to assemble a new list. Riddle peers at it, unsure of when he started writing and when he stopped thinking. 
Priorities
Get in touch with Azul.
Question Cater more thoroughly. 
Return to (Name)’s apartment and ask neighbors for any information. 
Continue transcribing any and all findings. 
Look for clues that might point in the direction of where (Name) went.
Create a timeline up until the disappearance and keep track of the number of days missing. 
Transfer the above and all new information into a notebook.
Again, his eyes fall upon the police station. He wonders if there’s a rule that forbids normal citizens from doing investigations of their own. It can’t hurt to want to gather some proof for himself, right? He won’t cross any laws so long as everything’s within legal bounds, and if more than one person is working on the case it might even speed up the process. After all, aren’t two brains better than one? 
And if there is a rule, he thinks as he reverses out of his parking spot, I certainly didn’t hear about it.
Turning onto the busy road, Riddle drives further from the station towards a far-off horizon spotted with wispy strands of cloud.
His first objective: Find Azul. 
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Microphone in hand, Cater stands in the center of a soundproofed room and announces in an energetic tone, “My dearest, most loyal besties, a big TY for coming! As a newly formed band, our first order of business is to celebrate with cute snacks, cute drinks, and even cuter company!” He punctuates that last part with a playful whistle and a wink. 
In response, the two men sitting in the neon pink booth raise their glasses high. Both are filled with a sparkling substance, one so vermillion it’s nearly blood itself and the other a vivid orange. Lilia has ordered a Crimson Whisper—a delightful strawberry and raspberry margarita accompanied with a lime wedge and a skewer of sliced fruits. Kosher salt lines the rim, and under the dimmed lights it twinkles like pinpricks of diamond. Kalim’s beverage is known as the Tropical Tryst Twist, and it’s a fizzy tangerine and lemon cocktail decorated with a blue paper umbrella. A few ruby-red cherries are nestled amidst the ice. 
Cater makes it a mission to familiarize himself with his favorite karaoke bar’s menu, but despite every food and drink combination he’s come across (some photographed and strung up on his social media and others admired from afar) he cannot stomach the sweetness. So for tonight—like most nights—he chooses something that is, as his sisters would often say, “so not cute.” Beer is his go-to, even if his carefully curated Magicam feed is adorned with photos of pastries and sugary drinks galore. Peel back the pretty wallpaper and you'll find the dollhouse is not what it seems. But festering in rot is so not cute, and so for this reason he plasters the bitter with beauty.
Fortunately, tonight is not a bitter night, and unlike the boring drink in his hand he still raises it to toast with the others. Their glasses join with a resounding clink. 
Kalim pulls his drink away first, bringing it to his lips for a long sip. “This is exciting!” He sets it down on a coaster and beams, radiating raw joy. “I’ve never been in a real band before! Oh, we should publicize it, right? I can get my dad to help with that. He’ll be our first fan!”
Cater chuckles awkwardly. “Loving the enthusiasm, Kalim. Super-duper cute! But we need songs before we can start putting ourselves out there.”
Lilia hums his agreement. “I suppose what we’ve produced thus far wouldn’t exactly qualify as a true song.”
“At least it’s something… Oh! What if we took one of our short clips and extended it? Maybe add a few other instruments and beats so it feels like music you’d want to stop everything you’re doing and dance your troubles away to! Something summery and sweet!”
“Ooh, brilliant idea, Kalim. I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot. You never know until you try.” 
“Right? Right?! Everyone likes to dance, and you need fun music to create fun energy! We could definitely do it.”
Their eyes flit to him now. Cater twirls the microphone in his hand, humming as he considers it. It’s a lot of work to produce music, and they often fooled around during club hours when they were in school. But they’ve done it before. Granted, thirty-second previews of sound can’t quite make it to trending if they aren’t captivating enough. Things like that aren’t anything to write home about, or so he often thinks when he browses the list of unnamed tracks cluttering his laptop’s home screen. 
Cater’s grip on the microphone tightens. He smiles, slackens his shoulders, and flashes a cheerful thumbs-up. “Cay Cay’s got a plan!”
“Oh my.” Lilia’s eyes sharpen with curiosity. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say you’ve gathered us here for the sake of this very plan.”
“Discerning as ever, Lils! That’s right. I was actually hit with some crazy inspiration recently. And because of that…” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “A drum roll, if you would be so kind.”
Kalim laughs and slaps his hands upon the table. Lilia follows suit until they’re both pounding on it, the force rattling the macaron pyramid they ordered earlier. Cater, invigorated by their support, swipes his phone from off the table, flicks it on, and scrolls through his song drafts. He turns his screen towards Lilia and Kalim with a dramatic flourish.
“Behold—my soon-to-be magnum opus!”
They peer at it, and then a duet of awestruck oohs fills the room. 
“This is shaping up to be very exciting.”
“Wow!” Kalim whistles, impressed. “I can’t believe I’m looking at lyrics for a potential song! Aha, you’re so cool, Cater!”
“Aren’t I?” he boasts, lowering into the booth across from them, a picture-perfect portrait of nonchalance. “I call it ‘Kismet Kiss,’ and it’s a song about fun feelings! It sounds kinda pop idol, but hear me out! We can find some way to work punk-rock into it, or we could hit everyone with an idol song and then ease into rock.”
“Like a sound buffet!” Kalim plucks a macaron from the tower and pops it in his mouth. “I think that’s a great idea. I’m down if you are, Lilia.”
“I wonder if we’d be able to handle so many genres at once.” He takes a slow, contemplative sip from his drink, a smile spreading on his lips. “I certainly look forward to experimenting. Is that not what youth is all about?”
“Well, don’t keep us in the dark! Let us hear your lyrics!”
“It’ll sound really yikes if I sing without any music, so give ‘em a read and lemme know what ya think! The Cater Inbox is open for criticisms! Constructive only, please and thank you.”
Cater passes his phone to Kalim, who takes it in his hands and sidles closer to Lilia so both can read simultaneously. While they peruse the lyrics, Cater taps out an anxious rhythm against his half-empty pint glass.
Kismet Kiss! - Cicada City Lyrics
I could never tell you 
Of the feelings locked in my heart
For they’re twisted and thorny, but a special work of art! 
It must be fate or destiny
Maybe even cosmic chemistry
Look only at me, me, me, me, me! 
And soon you’ll begin to see… 
Why is it that you gaze at me with such sincerity?
It’s kinda weird
Because suddenly everything’s so sparkly 
Brightness blinds me eternally 
You take my hand in yours and lead me astray
Hey~ 
Won’t you turn my way and promise you’ll stay?
Woohoo!
We share a bittersweet kismet kiss 
Under a silver moon, where all is heavenly bliss
A cutely curated kismet kiss 
Trapped in the confines of a moon-mired abyss! 
It's as if the tarot has foretold,
That I’ll follow you wherever you go 
No matter what, it’s a clingy kismet kiss
And now the skies have darkened with mist 
The fortune says it’ll rain
I wonder if it’s a reflection of all this pain
Since everything has become so very
Otherworldly and strange
What are the secrets you keep,
When you think I am asleep? 
Leaning in to lo-lo-lo-love you! 
Forevermore, it’s brand new! 
All these moods
You match my fake attitudes
Astral planes,
They rise and fall
You’re a jellyfish witch who knows how to enthrall
A sculpture of elegance in a crumbling hall
Oh dear, you’ve gone and collared me
And I can no longer say I feel free 
Hey… 
Whatever happened to the sugar strains in your veins?
Woohoo! 
We share a bittersweet kismet kiss 
Under a silver moon, where all is heavenly bliss
A cutely curated kismet kiss 
Trapped in the confines of a moon-mired abyss! 
Our very own kismet kiss
Painted in hazy constellations you’ll miss
If you can’t open up your eyes
And confront your star-spotted demise!
There’s an uncomfortable silence that thickens in the air, and Cater counts the seconds it takes before it’s disturbed by Kalim’s gasp. Eleven seconds.
“You wrote this?”
Cater curls his fingers into a tight, self-assuring fist, nails pricking his palms. “Sure did. Penned by yours truly and everything! It’s still not finished, though. I’m always going back to edit, but so far that’s the most coherent draft I have. So whatcha think? It’s totally cute, yeah?”
“It’s very telling,” Lilia praises with a cryptic grin. Cater doesn’t like the wisdom discreetly woven into his next words. “You can learn a lot from the speaker in the song. Some truths are best expressed in writing, after all. When we put pen to paper, left alone with but our wrist and brain, we’re usually very honest with the page.”
As always, you’re a mystery, Cater thinks with a thin smile. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared it so confidently.
“It’s a masterpiece! Seriously, this is poetry and art and everything else! I love it! Oh! Did you write it with anyone in mind? You said you had some inspiration, right? I’m always getting inspired when I see the sun or clouds shaped like animals or even when I’m eating sweets! But what about your inspiration?”
Cater uncurls his fist to take his phone from Lilia’s outstretched hand. “Riddle said a really cool line a few days ago and it kinda stuck with me.”
It’s not a total lie. 
“Ah, that’s right. You’ve mentioned before that he took up a position at your workplace,” Lilia muses, flicking his wrist to swipe three macarons from the tower with magic. They float over lazily and he opens his mouth to receive each one with a delighted hum. “How is he faring?”
“He became Mr. Manager in under two weeks.”
Kalim laughs. “It was also like that at NRC, wasn’t it? Sounds just like Riddle to go for the top spot!”
Cater waves his hand through the air dismissively, suddenly disinterested in the subject of this conversation. “DD’s become Heartslabyul: The Sequel ever since he joined.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not not a bad thing?” He slumps in the booth. “I mean, it’s cool to work with an old friend, but Riddle’s so…Riddle. He just never eases up, you know?”
“I think it’s fun! Maybe I should work there, too! Ooh, wouldn’t that be cool? We could all work with Cater. It’ll be like club meetings all over again!”
“That sounds super-duper sweet, but I don’t think we’d get any work done if that were the case.”
Kalim deflates with a nervous chuckle. “Ah, yeah… You make a fair point.”
“I surmise Riddle wouldn’t be very keen to work with all three of us. That boy has always been too diligent.”
Cater gazes at him from over the rim of his glass. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 
Lilia quirks a sly smile, amused to have his own words pointed right back at his throat. “It’s unhealthy to have too much of anything. After all, excessive diligence leads to perfectionism taken to extremes.”
“Isn’t that just the cutest description for our ridiculous Riddle?”
“I dunno,” Kalim says, shrugging. “It’s kinda admirable, don’tcha think?”
“Perhaps.” Lilia commands another macaron with ease. He bites half of it this time, the other half suspended in the air. “Even the most debilitating obsessions stem from some unique form of admiration.”
“Oh? Is that experience talking, Lils?”
Cater’s eyes are sharper than a sword when they pierce through the faerie sitting across from him. A fanged smile is the only response he receives just as Lilia closes his mouth around the remaining macaron half. Crumbs flutter to the floor. And just before he can pry a little further—dig into him with a verbal knife and fork—his mobile phone chirps out a happy ringtone, thus disturbing the tension stretching taut between them. Cater holds Lilia’s gaze a moment longer before surrendering and peering at his phone. He doesn’t have the forethought to stifle his annoyed groan. 
“You totes jinxed it!” He flips his phone towards them to show Riddle’s icon on the caller ID.
Kalim lets out a hearty chortle. “We really did! Hey, why don’t we invite Riddle since he’s calling? We have enough macarons for him, and if we run out I’ll just order more. Does he drink, Cater? We can order something before he gets here!” 
“Oh, you’re way too nice! Although Riddle’s a pretty busy guy… I don’t think he’d wanna intrude. Maybe next time?” 
“But he’s always welcome! The more the merrier.”
“I could ask, but I’d hate to bother him if he’s already busy. That’s never cute.”
Drop it, Kalim. I don’t want Riddle here.
“Oh?” Lilia cocks his head to the side just as Cater’s phone rings a second time. He watches him hurry to switch it off. “If it’s important, don’t let us get in your way.”
“It’s fine.” It comes out harsher than he intended, so he laughs and plucks a macaron from the tray. The sweet remains in his palm. “I mean, come on! I see enough of Riddle already. He can just tell me what he wants the next time we’re on shift, or he can text me. Calling is so old school nowadays.”
“But if he’s calling you more than once…” Kalim’s lips curl into a concerned pout. “If it’s a secret, I’ll cover my ears.”
“No, no. Really, it’s A-okay! He’s just been a little cray ever since (Name) disappeared.”
The oxygen in the room seems to slither away and suddenly he can’t breathe. Or, more realistically, he’s forgotten to take a breath when Kalim and Lilia fix him with stern looks. 
“Oh my.”
“(Name) disappeared? That’s not good!”
“It’s not a big deal. She’s always getting lost and found, so she’ll come around eventually.”
“You don’t seem very worried,” Lilia notes, brows furrowed. 
“Should I be?” Realizing how frigid that sounds, he chuckles airily. “I mean, it’s normal for her to go ghost for a few days. She’s been like this for years now. It’s nothing new.”
“Still, isn’t that scary? Aren’t you afraid she might’ve gotten into trouble or worse?” Kalim insists, nodding in agreement with Lilia’s earlier observation. 
Cater blinks, allowing their words to seep into the very pores on his skin. “Um, well, I guess it’d be concerning to people who don’t know anything… But trust me on this. I know (Name). She’s probs living it up with her pseudo-boyfriend.”
“Well, if you say so.” Lilia shrugs, but those carmine hues remain centered on his phone as if awaiting another call. 
“Shouldn’t you file a missing report? What if she isn’t with her boyfriend? Or, uh, her not-boyfriend?”
“Guys, I promise she’s finer than wine!” To prove it, he pulls up your Magicam profile, scrolls through the feed, and clicks on an older post. The photograph in question is a view of the expansive ocean from a cruise ship’s deck, glossy wood railing displaying two half-empty drinks: a mojito and a daiquiri. “She cut all contact with me for, like, a few days, and I went to file a report because I thought something had happened. But then she posts this just as I’m leaving the station, and so I had to go back in there and let ‘em know it was a false alarm. It totally harshed my vibes! I looked like I was crying wolf and that is so not the mood!”
Kalim peers at the photo. “Looks fun, but why didn’t she tell you where she was going?”
“She never does.” Cater shrugs and pockets the device just as another call comes in. Thankfully, it goes right to his voicemail. “That’s just how she is.”
“Does that upset you?”
Cater raises a brow. “I’m not her babysitter, Lils. Besides, besties don’t have to tell each other everything. It’s not part of some bestie code or anything. We’re not sworn to each other in some blood pact either. She lives her life and I live mine. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“Aw. But sharing secrets makes a friendship so much stronger,” Kalim says, slouching in the booth. “Jamil knows some of my secrets! Like that time I accidentally swapped the salt and sugar. He’s the only one I’ve ever told. Ah, wait! I’ve just told you and Lilia… Pretend you didn’t hear that, okay?”
Cater pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Not that it’s anything criminal.
“It follows me to the grave! Swapping the salt and sugar is an offense punishable by death, after all.” Lilia chuckles, though Cater suspects his amusement stems from another place. He’s definitely guilty of that exact mishap. 
“If I’m being honest,” he starts, and that first part is already a lie, “I don’t think (Name) wants me to know about her life. Or, more specifically, her super-secret not-boyfriend.”
“Why? Are you curious?” Kalim cocks his head to the side.
“Obviously! Dude’s, like, megarich! Of course I’d be curious. Who wouldn’t?” Cater taps a painted fingernail against the macaron in his palm. “Every time we talk about him, she keeps it real vague. Sometimes I think this guy’s just fiction. TBH, if I had rich arm candy, I’d flaunt them all the time. No offense, Kalim.”
“Huh? Why?” He blinks in confusion. “Isn’t it good to feel proud of someone you like?”
“Well, this situation is slightly different, isn’t it?” Lilia asks, looking to Cater for confirmation.
“Based on the data I’ve acquired,” he says, raising a finger and putting on a professional voice that earns him laughter from Kalim and a grin from Lilia, “I can confidently theorize that there’s more to their little game of give and take. Because, really, how much loveless sex can you possibly have before the feels start seeping through?”
“But she never claimed to harbor feelings, or am I assuming incorrectly?”
“It was the opposite, actually. She told me she was breaking up with him because he couldn’t hit the right spots.” 
Lilia raises his hand to his mouth, shielding a razored smile. “Dear me. That’s no good.”
“Or maybe,” Kalim posits, “it has nothing to do with sex. Maybe he can’t hit the spots in her heart.”
Cater stares, realizes he’s staring approximately ten seconds later, and forces himself to laugh in disbelief. “(Name) in love? Please, Kalim! She’d never.”
“How do you know? If there’s a connection, but it isn’t reciprocated…” Kalim shrugs and stuffs a macaron in his mouth, continuing his next words with a muffle: “I’m just guessing. Actually, I just thought it felt right, you know? I don’t know your friend—but I’d like to one day—so I can’t say that’s why she did what she did, but not everyone has the same spots. Maybe she wanted more from him, but he couldn’t give it to her.”
“Kalim, you know I appreciate you and your pure heart, but good dick and love are two separate things. You can love good dick, but good dick can’t give you love if the relationship isn’t built on it to begin with.” Lilia cackles at the phrasing, but Cater adds in a clipped tone, “I know (Name). It had nothing to do with love. It’s just convenience.”
Kalim pouts. “Then, if she really didn’t love him, what if he loved her?”
“Oh? Is this a sudden twist in the suspicious soap opera? I’m on the edge of my seat.” Lilia interjects, eyes wide, hands spread like he’s a magician who’s just performed a magnificent trick worthy of applause. “The youths of today are so creative. Back in my day, you could pierce your lover with Cupid’s arrow if you sang a love song, wrote flowery poetry, or defeated a rival in a bloody battle for the heart!”
“Lils, that’s so medieval…”
“Far from it! Even today, love songs and poems are still quite popular. Sometimes the battle part applies. Or am I a century behind?”
“That’s funny! You’re so silly, Lilia!” 
I don’t think he’s joking, Kalim…
Lilia tilts his head, blinking owlishly, a smile spreading on his face. “I’m happy to entertain.”
“Listen, if he loved her, I wish him the best of luck. (Name) makes herself hard to love. I should know. I’m her bestie, after all. Maybe that’s why she’s ghosting us. Things got too lovey-dovey and she had to set sail. She’ll be back in a day or two once she’s returned from her boring little island of loneliness.”
“I suppose patterns are easier to predict once you’ve fallen into them…”
“Right? You get it, Lils. She’ll be fine. Everyone will be fine! (Name) just needs her space, Riddle needs a chill pill, and we need to get back on track. So! ‘Kismet Kiss,’ yeah? It’s a good debut song, right?”
“What if he didn’t give her a choice?” Kalim blurts, and both heads turn in his direction. He fidgets, his fingers curling into his jacket. “I guess… Well, it’s scary to admit, but what if she really did disappear and Riddle’s worries are totally valid?”
“You think she got kidnapped?”
“Um… I’m not saying that…”
“He’s saying it, but it’s at a frequency we just can’t understand. Like subliminal messaging.”
“Lilia!” Kalim squeezes his eyes shut with a groan. “You’re gonna jinx it!”
“That’s what Riddle thinks happened. I keep telling him it’s nothing like that, but you know how he gets. Once his mind is made up, it’s hard to change it.” 
“Riddle’s not wrong in thinking the worst.”
“Yeah! Riddle’s always been so sensible, so I trust his judgment. Your gut never lies, after all.”
“But he’s wrong this time, okay?”
“How can you know for sure?”
What is this, an interview? Give me a break.
“I just know.” Green eyes sparkle under neon lights, no longer pits of gloom set into his skull. “Her pattern’s easy to follow, Lils. And I used to burden myself with the worst of the worst, but that’s so not cute! I’d rather chalk it up to her usual behavior than think she’s lying in some dark ditch, hacked to pieces.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say, Cater…”
“I’ll admit it does paint a rather grisly image.”
“You think?” 
Kalim stares, his mouth foolishly agape. 
He shakes his head, tutting, and holds his finger up to his lips. With a wink, he says, “The worst becomes ten times cuter when it’s absurd! There’s no way she’s in a ditch. We’re in the city. Where is anyone gonna find the nearest ditch when everything’s all concrete and steel?”
Lilia hums, but Cater surmises he isn’t buying the cheery assurances. In fact, the more he tells himself these things, the less he believes them. “If you say so. I shan't push it further.” He lifts his glass with magic and brings it to his lips to finish what’s left. “The worst lies are often, as you usually phrase it, ‘addictively adorable,’ so perhaps you aren’t entirely wrong either.” Blood-red liquid tilts towards waiting lips. “Your friend may not be in a ditch, but she might be enshrouded in a gilded falsehood.”
Cater opens his mouth to reply and is promptly interrupted by the ringing of a timer.
Kalim gasps and scrambles to silence it. “Has it already been two hours? No way! We haven’t even had a chance to sing yet!”
“I suppose old habits die hard.”
“Aah, this really is like club meetings all over again…” He smiles fondly, his eyes glazing with reminiscence. “I guess it can’t be helped. We always have things to talk about when we meet up!”
Lilia grins and bumps shoulders with him. “You’ll never be short of conversation topics with me.”
“I believe it!”
They glance at Cater. He blinks back at them. 
“Then should we call it a night? Jamil’s probably wondering why I haven’t gotten back to him yet… Oh, right. I forgot to tell him we were hanging out tonight. Haha! Oops!”
How can you be so carefree? I’d like to know your secret. 
“As much of a night owl as I am, we’ve long overstayed our welcome. Perhaps we’ll meet again tomorrow? We can discuss your song and goals for the band then. Travel is not a challenge for me, though I assume you might be a little busy, Kalim?”
“It’s complicated, but I can definitely make time for you guys! You’re my friends and I wanna hang out! Next time, we definitely have to invite Riddle and I’ll bring Jamil, too!”
No, it’s not being carefree. You’re just careless.
Cater flashes them a smile that’s just as empty as his eyes, yet it seems to do the trick. Either that, or Lilia just doesn’t wish to verbalize his observations. “Totally! We’ll get to it when we get to it.”
“I look forward to it. I think Cicada City is shaping up to be quite the shining star with a promising future.”
“Ooh, shining stars! I love it! We gotta talk about outfits, too.” Kalim pops up from the booth. “Ah! But before that, you should talk to your friend, Cater. Make sure she’s okay. I hope she’s safe.”
“As do I. Better to be safe than sorry, as they often say.”
Cater nods. “Yep, yep! You can count on Detective Cay Cay! I’ll get to the bottom of this mystery in no time.”
The macaron in his hand is subjected to a brutal crushing.
This is so not sweet. I completely forgot to take pictures for Magicam.
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indigogirled · 3 years
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I adore HS1 and I listen to it all the time, and it makes me a bit sad that Harry went from using the metaphor of ‘Sweet Creature’ and the lyrics in FTDT and SOTT to then go to Fine Line and have him using watermelon as a metaphor for oral sex and hearing the same lyric 5 times over??? like out of Fine Line I only listen to Lights Up, She and Fine Line like consistently because it’s just like HS1 is kinda back
this is my HILL and i’m so glad u brought it up!
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teruthecreator · 3 years
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okay. thoughts on the grad finale
gonna slap it under a readmore bc i’m Sure i’m gonna ramble. 
uh spoiler warning for the finale of taz graduation, as well as spoilers for the season in general.
also, these are my own thoughts of how the season went, what the themes were, etc! if you don’t agree with me, that’s fine! but i don’t wanna have a convo w you in the replies about it i’ll be honest. if you want to share your opinion so badly, make your own post, alright? that good? we cool?
aight. so. finale thoughts.
to make it short: i think the finale was a satisfying end of a very good arc. 
to expand upon that, let me share what i think the themes of graduation were and why the finale satisfies those themes. 
i made a post about this a while back (here it is if you want) but my honest belief was that the theme of graduation was self-reliance: the concept that you don’t allow yourself to be governed by forces that go against your own beliefs. this concept was coined by essayist ralph waldo emerson to talk about how the american people shouldn’t allow the government to create laws that go against the will of the people. now, understandably, this feels very anti-capitalist which is what i think a lot of fans believed was reflected through the season. 
but, in reality, self-reliance has more to do with being active in your government and making sure you’re being represented the way you want to be by your representatives. that’s sort of the vibe emerson was going for in his essay, and i think. in a sense? that translates to graduation. but i took self-reliance in the more metaphorical about breaking away from those things that are controlling you. which, in graduation, was A Lot Of Things. 
the way i saw it, there were two major groups that inflicted order upon the world and the thundermen--conveniently separated as order and chaos (not the deities though, just the concepts). 
the order half of control existed mostly through the school and the HOG. the HOG created the economic reliance on the heroes and villains system, which removed all literal meaning from those terms and turned them into bureaucratic titles. society existed under these very strict checks and balances; heroes and villains supplied money to the kingdom in terms of entertainment, which then boosted that kingdom’s creditability and allowed them to contribute more to nua’s economy, which then led heroes and villains to have a higher demand, thus perpetuating the cycle. it’s important to note that this term does not represent the sort of morality we expect for heroes and villains--hell, even the term “evil” turned into an arbitrary term used to show those heroes and villains who failed the system. this is the more prominent representation of control that the thundermen break away from in achieving their own self-reliance. they don’t see the value in a system that holds no real moral code (fitzroy Especially, but i’ll get into that in a bit), and can’t help the public when there’s actually a serious situation. as we saw with althea in the beginning, the HOG had no way to help the thundermen when they were dealing with the whole Demon Prince situation (as he had already placed some of his own people in there, proving these kind of systems are easily corruptible). so this wasn’t a system meant to Actually create heroes and villains--it was just a way of boosting the economy. 
the chaos half of control existed primarily through grey and Chaos. grey represented how chaos could be controlled, through various means. he planted that tree for the centaurs to fight over because he knew it would constantly create conflict, which he enjoyed. he kept the school under a watchful eye to prevent anyone from stepping out of line with his grand ideas, and used several manipulation tactics to try and get his way (most notably, his own admittance of grooming fitzroy into joining his side, which didn’t work). grey was the perfect example of how chaos does not automatically mean a lack of control. he was very controlling in how he did things because he had an endgoal: find hieronymous and have a war. but he didn’t even realize he was contributing to a greater idea, that being Chaos’s insistence on causing general disarray. as we realize now, Chaos’s plan was both for them and Order, but i’m leaving Order out for a second because they only really rear their head in towards the end. for the most part, audiences were led to assume that Chaos was the Big Bad(TM); they were the one pulling the strings, allowing things to happen to cause general chaos and disarray. them supplying random mortals with their endless power was a way to plant chaos into the world of nua; but it was a chaos they controlled. fitzroy resisting them was not simply a refusal to bend to Chaos, but it was resisting the control put on him through his magic. 
these systems were constricting the thundermen on both sides. when they thought they’d find help in one side, they were disappointed to find that there was nothing anyone could do. the only people who could fix their problems were...them. so they forged a new path, set new ideas, and became self-reliant. that’s what i think is the most important aspect of graduation; not the anti-capitalist implications of turning over the economic and political systems in place, but the idea that if nothing that is supposed to help you is actually helping that you can just...do your own thing! 
and i think that’s what the finale really shows, at the end of the day. that these forms of control were not doing anything helpful, and were in fact ruining the fabric of space-time! that’s where i think Order comes in because Order is really...the ultimate culmination of control. they are aware that Everything being done will benefit their cause. the HOG? well, they make sure everybody’s so incompetent that they can do their work. grey? well, he’ll contribute to the plan without even realizing it. they even manipulated Chaos and enacted their own form of control over Chaos to make sure that they had no reason to believe that this plan couldn’t go wrong. but Order knew. Order always knew there was a chance for error, and that chance was very great. but they didn’t care! so long as they had control of things, they could try a hundred times to get it right. they had no care for mortals, unlike Chaos. 
the thundermen showing Chaos the truth is the final jenga piece that collapses this tower of control. which is why the finale is so great. 
travis does a phenomenal job of incorporating chaos (general chaos) into the battle mechanics. it may be stupid and slightly arbitrary, but having them change forms randomly and having to adapt to those new circumstances really does exemplify the season!!! the thundermen were constantly forced into new situations (being sidekicks/henches, fitzroy becoming a villain, being let in on the heiro dog situation, the unbroken chain trial, joining forces w grey, etc.), and in all of them they simply found a way to adapt and keep working their way. which made the finale generally interesting and also thematically interesting! 
i think my favorite part of the entire fight scene is right at the end, when argo chucks the shark’s tooth necklace at Order. and time stops. and they’re given a choice. 
the fact that they leave it to a coin toss?? oh my god...how fucking FITTING!! like, that’s disorderly. that’s going your own way. it’s new, it’s terrifying, it has DIRE UNKNOWNS ON EITHER SIDE, but it’s what they do! and...it ends up working out! i think it would’ve worked out either way, but the fact that they left it up to chance really shows how they aren’t allowing anything to control their actions. 
AND THEN WE GET TO THE EPILOGUE. MY GOD I LOVE THE EPILOGUE I’M GONNA GO OFF SO MUCH. 
first off, i loved hearing how Nua adapts to losing this very significant form of government/economic contributor and turns to more people-based work. citizens uniting together, fixing things, making amends, THAT’S SELF-RELIANCE BABEY!!! THAT’S THE WHOLE EMERSON SHIT! HAVING A SYSTEM OF GOVERNMENT THAT ACTUALLY HAS THE INTERESTS OF THE PEOPLE AT LARGE!!! YEAHHHHHHHHH THAT’S THE WHOLE SELF-RELIANCE THING!
now, i’ll break it down by characters: 
fitzroy
GOD. LOVE IT. FIRST OFF, absolutely ADORED how his character arc involved him stripping himself of these self-assigned titles because he actually has an identity that is all his own and he doesn’t NEED arbitrary titles to prove his worth because HE HAS IT IN HIMSELF. not to self-plug or anything, but that’s ssoss!fitzroy’s WHOLE SHIT. I’VE ALREADY BEEN ON THIS TRAIN, BITCH, AND TO KNOW I GOT IT SO RIGHT...GOD. FEELS GOOD. 
but also, i just really enjoy how his ending went in general. the fact that he doesn’t really know what he wants to do, so he just...does stuff he likes to do? that’s so good! because, if you remember, fitzroy had a Very set schedule of life events when the campaign started. he was going to get his wiggenstaffs degree, go back knight school, get his knight school degree, and then go to goodcastle. but all of that was based on a very limited understanding of himself. 
fitzroy’s character arc has primarily focused finding himself, specifically in terms of identity. for someone who was bullied for his past, the present formation of himself was Extremely important to fitzroy. he thought that shutting out his past and taking on this grandiose title of knighthood would make him something more than himself. he would no longer be fitzroy; the poor, country kid trying to make it in a big world. he’d be Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt; respected, honored, revered, with a title to prove it. 
he explains to fauxronymous (pre-reveal grey) that the reason he wanted to be a knight was because he wanted to assist in doing good. morally good. fitzroy has Always had a very clear sense of his morality; this comes through when he refuses Chaos on the basis of many people having to die if he agreed. but being a knight also had the added of bonus of a very respectable title that no one would want to look beyond, which fitzroy felt he needed because...i don’t think he Saw anything beyond that. in himself. he wasn’t himself for a very long time, and i don’t know if he ever thought he would be again. he’d wear this new identity, start a new life, and be happier....he hoped. 
then, things changed! and he started to realize that arbitrary titles don’t do shit because plenty of people with Big Important Titles ended up being Awful People! so he started to value himself For Himself; his wit, his humor, his strength, his magical prowess. and, i think, he started to wonder what knighthood was Really about. was it about upholding a moral good? or was it just another bureaucracy filled with people who won’t do shit when things get bad. 
i think this is why him becoming a lawyer is fitting. especially because of the reasoning he gives sylvia nite. now for A LOT OF PEOPLE, i’m sure they hear lawyer and assume some corporate hotshot who doesn’t give a shit about people. but fitzroy is Not applying to be a corporate laywer. he SPECIFICALLY telsl sylvia that he wants to help people who cannot help themselves, and he wants to do good in that way. THAT kind of lawyer is more of the pro-bono, district lawyer. the ones that don’t make crazy amounts of cash, but help those who cannot afford lawyers and represent them when the government is fucking them over. those lawyers don’t rely on title, they rely on principle. 
that’s the perfect representation of fitzroy’s growth. holding his identity within himself, while still trying to do good by those who need it. 
firbolg (aka gary) 
i think the firbolg’s ending is so unique but so...right for him. his character arc has really been focused around finding his family. he had one, in the beginning, in his clan. but that didn’t end up, y’know...working out that much. so he had to go out into the world alone--something that firbolg’s are rarely--and try and navigate these foreign spaces all by himself. 
we see very early on how he latches onto the idea of groups. he likes being considered a part of the thundermen; he very much hoists himself upon the CFO title and wears it proudly. i think, where fitzroy needed to find identity within himself, the firbolg needed to find it within other people. which is completely okay! he’s still an individual, but you can tell he finds comfort in numbers because that’s what he is used to. 
him going back to his clan was, i believe, his finally severance with his identity as “firbolg”. he would never be welcomed back to his clan, and one of the few people in his life who supported him was now dead. but his father was proud of him; his father was happy he seemed to find his own clan, even if it wasn’t with other firbolgs. from that moment on, i think the firbolg begins to try finding himself within the thundermen. within his friends.
so his epilogue is neat! it definitely captures the loneliness he feels on his own, and how he feels lost with himself without others. i think it might seem silly to some that he would become a gary, but i think it’s fitting. the garys were always present in his time at school, and they were always helpful. they didn’t mind how long it took him to talk because the gary’s are stone gargoyles--what the fuck do they care about time? it was a group that the firbolg saw as familiar to him--always willing to help, slow, stony, and attuned to a larger group. 
and i think the way gary takes this idea of unity and family and puts it into financial assistance just...it just ties everything together! we saw how attached he got to the concept of finances, thanks to his very confusing accounting class. so he had all of this new knowledge--this knowledge that represented a separation from firbolgs--and this new clan. and he used it to help other clans and families!! i think the fact that the Garys financial advice works specifically with groups is what makes this so fitting. because gary wants families to feel stable within themselves; he understands how finances can create struggle and divides, and he wants to provide relief. 
giving financial advice to communities so they rely on themselves and not the government (aka inviting them to be controlled once more) is a VERY self-reliant concept. not that i think gary’s goal is to have no social networks to exist, but he wants to give communities the ability to rely on one another and foster that feeling of togetherness. so groups aren’t fighting over things, but are trusting and loving and relying. 
just like gary’s always wanted. and just like what he has with the thundermen.
argo 
argo’s ending is probably the funniest, but also the sweetest. i think that argo’s character arc revolved around finding his place. we see how argo’s early personality and motivations revolved around his past. he very much had a revenge story since the start; he wanted to enact revenge on the commodore for murdering his mother, no matter what it took. which made him very limited!! in terms of the self. he saw himself less for what he was now, and what he was then. and what he couldn’t do then. 
we see how much he finds comfort in being a part of the thundermen, but also how he feels...out of place. i think this is because a part of him is still attached to his past and doesn’t think he can do anything beyond his set plan. the unbroken chain certainly contributes to this, by not only separating him from the trio but also reinforcing his connection to his past through his mother’s involvement in the unbroken chain. 
the commodore also being a part of the unbroken chain is, i think, what causes the shift from past to present within argo. his life’s goal is standing right in front of him--attached to the group his mother once was a part of--with his friends at his side. letting the thundermen in on his history is the start of bridging these two halves of argo. and the fact that the thundermen are so willing to helps makes argo feel more a part of the team and more a part of this reality. 
when he kills the commodore, it isn’t intense. it isn’t overly dramatic (minus the fight prior, which was BADASS), it isn’t crazily staged. it is argo, staring down the commodore who lies prone on the ground. 
he kills himself unceremoniously and completes his life-long mission. 
what becomes of him in the epilogue is the culimination of both past and present. he takes what he knows and loves (the sea, the mariah, sailing) and blends it with what he’s come to love now (his friends, this adventure, and making people happy). there are SO many instances where argo uses performance to his advantage. this man is piloted by clint mcelroy, of COURSE he’s going to have a flair for the dramatic. 
so for him to open up a themed cruiseline, based on the stories of him and his friends? SO FITTING. and it isn’t forcing himself to leave his past behind or to completely ignore his present circumstances. because he’s found a place in the now, in the merging of these two sides. and by merging them, he paints a bright future for himself. a future that is partially known, partially not. partially old, partially new.
but it’s all his. 
after that, i think their final scene is just...sweet. a nice, jovial, joking send-off to a nice season. it proves these people have grown and will continue to grow, even when we no longer see their story. it does exactly what graduation does--shows you a struggle, a triumph, and a glimpse into the future. 
i’ll miss it so much, but there’s nothing more i could’ve asked of this ending. it was exactly what it needed to be; nothing more, nothing less. 
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mermaidsirennikita · 3 years
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bridgerton--the good, the bad, the ugly
The short of it: Bridgerton excellently captures the tone of Regency romance novels and offers a lot of escapism and great sex scenes, but could definitely use some serious work in terms of how it depicts race and it should have made some further alterations to the dated and flawed source material.  Definitely loved a lot of it and am hotly anticipating the second season, but I want to see more work done and I HOPE that this encourages the adaptation of better (and less inherently flawed) romance novels.
Now for the longer take.
The Good
Bridgerton depicted sex and romance in a way that is totally different from anything I’ve seen in period dramas, for sure, but possibly different from anything I’ve seen on TV.  The romance of it all was woven into almost every aspect of the show. There is the handsome and seemingly severe but extravagantly wealthy and sexually adept duke sweeping into town.  The (multiple) rakes who just want to have fun while also being hot messes.  The awakening of female sexuality and the copious use of the female gaze.  (Note the pretty modest and minimal focus on female nudity, while we get plenty of lingering shots on Simon.).  People want love!  There is pretty minimal violence and perhaps the most physically violent scene involves Simon beating a man up because HE IMPEACHED DAPHNE’S HONOR~.
The sex scenes themselves focused on Daphne’s pleasure for the most part, and were probably among the best I’ve seen since Outlander in terms of chemistry, in terms of the visuals, in terms of focus on sex as an act of emotional connection and FUN. Yes, there was some Unlikely Vaginal Orgasming, but we also saw Simon tell Daphne about masturbation.  On the wedding night, he was pretty clearly touching her to help her enjoy it.  He ate her out... a good bit.  
And aside from that, we got all of the grand speeches, the stolen glances and touches, an excellent buildup of sexual tension that led to some pretty hilarious moments.  
I also really enjoyed many of the performances on this show.  Rege-Jean and Phoebe had great chemistry and excellent back and forth.  Jonathan was a GREAT Anthony.  I would argue that as lackluster as I found his relationship with Siena (more on that in a minute) it largely existed as a way to set him up for his romance with Kate.  He now has even more of a reason to be down with love, as opposed to solely relying on a kind of flimsy tragic backstory.  Additionally, his overprotectiveness of Daphne added tension to the story and made him a source of comedic relief for me?  I loved it.  Give me disaster Anthony all day; can’t wait until he falls to the enemies to lovers trope just like Simon fell to his FLAW-FREE fake dating plan.
A lot of the changes I found were really good.  Obviously, it was important that the show incorporated greater diversity (though they need way more).  Benedict was INFINITELY more fun and interesting than he was in the novels, and acted as another standout for me.  As much as I hate Portia Featherington, I think that the elevation of her to a proper villainess is probably necessary and Polly Walker excels at those types of roles, though they need to maybe have her be less like, actively racist.  I adored the addition of Queen Charlotte; she was excellent comic relief.  Lady Danbury’s expanded role and relationship to Simon was one of the best moves they made.  It touched my entire soul.
Buuuut....
The Bad
The show needs to work on casting more men that are frankly on Rege-Jean’s level.  It feels a bit awkward to see a guy that is by most people’s standards kind of stunning and then.... Colin looks twelve.  Lord Philip is like... a farm guy.  Get rid of the sideburns, we’re in romance novel territory.
In the same note, the girl who played Siena wasn’t a great actress and wasn’t super stunning, so even though I’m fine with her being a placeholder....  Eh.  Go for better casting.  The woman playing Madame Delacroix would’ve played that role so much better and I really enjoyed her dynamic with Benedict because she was just fun.
Frankly, I don’t know what the fuck they’re going to do to make me want to watch Penelope and Colin fall in love.  Their book was already a bit basic--fun, but far from revolutionary.  I don’t really get why they would receive attention similar to that of Kate and Anthony, basically.  The issue is that Colin, again, looks and sound rather young and twerpy.  It obviously wasn’t great for him to be tricked into raising another man’s child, but.... For fuck’s sake, how much would that have affected his life on a practical level.  He’d never know unless he was told, thanks to the lack of DNA tests.  He was marrying far out of his league in terms of attractiveness.  He’s a rich white guy in England with a supportive family.  
I really disliked the fact that Colin told Marina in his huffy little tantrum that he would have married her anyway--because would you have, buddy?  Really?  The thing is that Marina had no way of knowing that and her entire life (and the reputations of her cousins) was on the line.  She didn’t know if she could trust Colin to keep her secret.  They barely knew each other.  He basically came off as a whiny child and I’m fine with him staying in Greece if that’s the plan.
Penelope was just... psychotic.  And that was really disappointing, because I love Nicola and would love to have loved to see the fat girl get her sexy love story.  But first off, lol, it wouldn’t have been sexy because Colin was miscast.  Second, she basically tried to destroy Marina’s life and that of her sisters?  And herself?  Because Colin?  Because Colin, a guy who hasn’t even shown any amount of attraction to her at this point?  Her tears, her whining, it was all too much.  Penelope was dealing with a crush and Marina was dealing with the real Grown Woman issues of a child out of wedlock and as it turned out a dead lover and they were not on equal footing.
I mean, Penelope could very well make a great villainess at this point, and if done well I’d embrace it.  But I do not know how the fuck they can make me interested in her love story.  And the idea of her basically being launched into villainy because she was this chubby white girl obsessively jealous of a beautiful black woman...... not a great look.
The show definitely needs to explore diversity in terms of sexuality too--I don’t think it’s correct to read Benedict as straight because he still seems to be open to exploring.  Once he has more screentime, I think he could totally end up being bisexual, and it’s possible that the writers were trying to feel the audience out in terms of their receptiveness to taking a straight character who has a big straight love story in the books and making him LGBT+.  Eloise could also easily be a lesbian, and I’d be thrilled to see that happen.  They need to do something to expand the world, and if there are 8 Bridgerton kids, all of them being straight as an arrow seems SO unlikely.
The Ugly
Obviously, the rape scene was bad and should have been written out.  Simon could have gotten caught up in the moment and blown up at Daphne after he accidentally didn’t pull out in time.  Men.... accidentally don’t pull out in time... a lot.  That’s how babies happen.  It would’ve been believable, and due to our sympathies being with Simon largely, I don’t think he would have become irredeemable if he was more at fault than Daphne.  
As it was, I will say that the scene was somewhat better than it played in the books because Simon was conscious and totally sober, and it was a bit?  Confusing?  That he didn’t just roll Daphne over and pull out?  Because she wasn’t really clearly trying as hard as she was in the book to wrap her legs around him and hold him tight.  But it remained a rape scene.  The show also did a better job, I think, of establishing how fucked up it was that Simon took advantage of Daphne’s lack of knowledge.  Whatever he said about thinking she knew what was up--he knew she didn’t even know about masturbation.  He had to know she wouldn’t understand what pulling out meant.  He did very clearly mislead her to think that he was sterile and therefore denied Daphne her ability to give informed consent.  Did that justify what Daphne did?  Nope.  Two wrongs don’t make a right.  But both of them did a fucked up thing and I think that we honestly could’ve stopped at Simon’s misleading.
The issue too is that this leads into a bigger problem the show had.  It wanted to include diversity (yay!) but did not consider the total implications of what was happening (not yay).  Daphne and Simon’s dynamic is inevitably influenced by the fact that she’s a white woman and he’s a black man, regardless of whatever handwaves happened.  This influences the sexual assault and makes it even more messy.
Speaking of mess, I’m not sure what exactly would have fixed the “we don’t want this to be a colorblind casting” issue... but the explanation they came up with wasn’t good.  Never mind that this makes everything SUPER confusing (racism is over like..... maybe 50 years MAX after Queen Charlotte’s marriage if we assume she was a teen when she married and is in her 60s now?) but Lady Danbury’s dialogue explaining this was HORRENDOUS.  “One of them fell in love with one of us”.  The implications are awful.  I don’t know if perhaps setting back the integration of society centuries earlier would have helped?  But this wasn’t it.
Additionally, the writers and casting directors didn’t seem to get that diversity is all well and good, but what about the fact that almost every black character has a light skin tone?  Why are there so few black female characters?  Why is Marina, the most prominent woc on the show, given the “pregnant and desperately trying to trick a man into marrying her until her jealous white cousin fucks her life up and she is humiliated into settling for a loveless match” plot?  I desperately hope we see her next season, falling in love with Sir Phillip or perhaps having experienced a plot twist that gives her someone else...  And she better not die. Eloise can find someone else if Marina really ends up with Sir Philip.
Ultimately, again, I really loved the show.  But it needs to work on some things.  I think that a lot of its issues can be addressed and fixed in a future season, and I HOPE they do that.
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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years
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Cravings (Albert Wesker x Excella Gionne)
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Warnings: smut, angst.
Prompt: Excella goes to Wesker’s room to give him his medicine but it takes an interesting turn of events.
This was requested by @renlaufeysonwesker. Hope you like it.
Ko-fi
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Excella’s heels clicked on the metal floor as she walked towards Wesker’s room. Missions and tasks completed with perfection granted her many benefits, but none of them was greater than having his trust. She proved herself worthy. Under his guidance she gained control over Tricell, and thus he became her mentor. But they weren’t were like this. Excella wasn’t a fool herself, she wouldn’t blindly trust a man. It was because of his reputation that she accepted the meeting in the first place and she wasn’t disappointed by either his appearance or by his offer. Excella’s eyes shinned in greed when she saw the variety of viruses laying on her table. G-virus, T-virus, Mold, Las Plagas, all of them worth million of dollars if in good hands. Wesker also offered his service in exchange of proper equipment to develop a stronger virus and Excella happily agreed. 
The next events were just crossing her mind in a chaotic order. She was so young and she never realised that Albert was slowly taking control over her as well. Now she was all alone, all of them long gone. The people she knew and worked over the years were replaced with those braindead majinis. They could barely speak and they smelled awful, but they were easily controlled by him. In fact, this is what Albert truly brought, death. His new virus was a failure that killed everyone. Not a single soul survived and Excella had her doubts Albert could survive too. Was his true goal the extinction of humanity? Was he despising them so much. She followed him blindly.
She was so lost in her thoughts that when she came back to reality she was standing in front of his door. How long has she been staying there? She had one task that was mandatory: give Wesker his dose of serum and leave. Now that she was the only one, the pressure of the immense failure was heavy on her shoulders. With shaky hands she knocked at the mad man’s door waiting for an answer.
“Give him the shot and leave.” She took deep breaths. The waiting was agonizing.
“Come in.”
He seemed displeased. Was he ever happy? She tried to remember. Even when she succeeded in her tasks he still was still disgusted. He had a violent reaction every time she tried to touch him too. She never touched another man, or let anyone touch her, and never knew what was like to receive back. She was saving herself for the false god.
“Do i have to repeat myself?”
He was impatient. Every minute past the limited term for his injection was another minute of agony. The virus would start to take over and destroy him.
Excella pressed the access card near the metal panel from his door and the light turned green. Inside it was even darker than in the corridors. She took a step forward and the door automatically closed behind her.
Her vision started to accommodate with the darkness and she was able to see her surroundings. The room was a mess. On the floor there were documents and reports scattered around as well as broken test tubes with god knows what substance leaked on the floor. She slowly headed forward trying not to knock things down or bump accidentally into Wesker. When her vision fully accommodated she saw Wesker, sitting on a chair, with his back at the door and held his head in his hands. He didn’t bother to look at her, he instead just rolled up his sleeve and stretched his arm. Somehow she was grateful he was sitting. In this atmosphere the only thing she wanted to see were his red eyes looking down at her.
She quickly approached his arm and ran a few fingers over his skin, feeling his prominent veins and hot skin, before injecting the serum into his body. Even if she didn’t look at him she could feel his intense stare on her skin.
After emptying the syringe, she quickly got up but Albert grabbed her forearm. His grip was so tight that her skin began to burn.
“Why?” He said between his teeth. This tone wasn’t the tone of a god, but the tone of a desperate man on the verge of dying.
“Why what?” Excella tried to free herself but the more she struggled the tighter the grip was.
“Why did you fail me?”
Excella was speechless, and Wesker waited for a response. Seeing he doesn’t get any he stands up at inhuman speed, without loosening the grip, and stares at her with his red glowing eyes. The look on his face is one of anger and disappointment. His grimace lost his humanity and it frightened Excella. She tried to speak but the words would get stuck in her throat. The air was now enough to fill her lungs. She froze in place without knowing what to do.
“I gave you everything and yet you fail me. Everyone fails me.”“I will not fail you, please” she said between sobs. Crying was her only reaction in response to the fear she felt. It didn’t characterised her, and she knew Wesker wasn’t looking for this type of reaction as well, that’s why she suddenly felt like suffocating and die. “I want you help you, please, i can help you.” Wesker wanted to see that self-assured woman she met a few years ago, but what was now in front of him was just a crying mess. The pain started to slowly leave his body, but not as fast as it used to be, that’s why he is putting so much pressure on the human in front of him. He could feel his morality approaching and he needs a solution fast.
With his mind a little clearer, he realised frightening her would not provide any results. She’ll just end up like the rest, and he needed her to live a little longer so, he loosened the grip around her wrist.
When she felt a little freedom around her wrist she let out a deep exhale and her body became less tensed. She couldn’t see much, but she felt Wesker relaxing too. He eventually let go of her, but didn’t turn around as if he was expecting something, a word, some reassurance. He knew what he wanted, but he let Excella to make the decision. 
Excella took this opportunity and raised her hand to cares his face, examining under her fingers his defined features. She couldn’t see much, but she felt his lips turning into a smirk. This is the most intimate gesture they ever shared and it did not ended in a painful rejection. Wesker moved his hands on the sides of her body griping at the flesh. His body still ached because of the slow effect of the serum, but he still found pleasure in the moment. After all, Excella was pleasant to the eye, and he tried to make her cling to him as much as possible. When her fingers found his lips he started to place small kisses on them. 
In this moment her desires were almost becoming reality. Wesker pulled her closer to his body so now they were pressing and slowly rubbing on each other. Excella wasn’t wearing a bra on purpose, and he could feel her had nipples rubbing against the thin material of his shirt. Seeing everything was in her favour, she leaned closer to his face until she could feels his hot breath over he cheeks. The shy kisses didn’t last long before Albert took the lead and parted his lips so his tongue could slide into hers. 
At this point Excella turned into jelly and she was unsure of what to do next. This is what Albert was doing to her, when she was near him her reasoning would leave her mind. Seeing this Wesker took the lead again and removed her dress, then he cupped her boobs into his enormous hands. He ran his thumbs over her hardening nipples a few times then he pressed his hot mouth over one, sucking and biting it. Excella was struggling to remove his shirt too, as her hands were too weak. Pleasure overcome her senses. With his mouth still pleasuring her nipples, Wesker ran a hand and unzipped his shirt. Then, Excella didn’t hesitate to press her palms over the hot skin of his abdomen, squeezing his pecs and tracing every curve of his muscles with her fingers. He did trespass a little when he felt her touch because he is not used to this due to his disgust to human race. Before the virus he was more indulgent with others and often engaged in sexual activities, but after he started to see the world with different eyes. He changed his goals and he perceived every human need as a weakness.
These eager touches eventually led to Excella finally putting her hands inside his pants. She had a hard fight with his belt but she did it and now she was tracing the contour of his erection through his boxers with her fingers. She gasped when she felt how thick he was and she was afraid to think how long too. By the time Excella moved to his pants, Wesker was at her neck biting various portions of her skin.
“You want it?” He asked between kisses.
“Y-yes.”
A deep growl came from his throat before leading Excella to his bed. He positioned himself between her legs and pulled the fabric of her panties aside, revealing her pink cunt.
“Have you done this before?”
Excella remained silent. Wesker used two fingers to spread her lips apart and traced with a finger a line from her clit to her hole.
“It’s your first time, huh? I couldn’t guess, you don’t seem the type.” He began to thrust a finger inside her slowly.
“Relax, you’re not the first virgin in this world.” He inserted a second finger already filling her up.
“Excella dear, how are you going to be able to take my cock like this?” Wesker was making scissor motions trying to stretch her a little more. Excella was a moaning mess and wasn’t able to form words anymore. He made her feel so good and he didn’t even started yet.
Her heart started to bump rapidly when she heard the zipper. In a few fluid motions Wesker discarded his pants and now he was sitting close to her cunt with his erection exposed. She tried to get up but she was shortly pinned back down by Wesker, who bent over her.
“Breath, you’re going to be fine.” He kept whispering in her ear while slowly entering her. He felt his wet tip and her entrance, waiting for her approval. When she nodded Wesker began to push slowly. His tip didn’t enter properly and she started to feel the burn. By the time he was half deep she started whimpering and squirming underneath him. She felt so full.
“Shh, you’re with me. Come on, relax.” He kept caressing her face and placing small kisses on her cheeks. Their hands tangled and she dug her nails so hard that it almost drained blood.
He was moving at a slow pace until Excella told him to go deeper. The pain faded and pleasure started to take over her. Wesker began to move at his usual pace. He wished he could quickly go and turn the lights one, so he could see those beautiful breasts bouncing on his cock, but he felt her walls contracting meaning she was close. He pressed his thumb over her puffy clit and stroked rapidly. Excella nails were scratching his back but he couldn’t care less, he actually enjoyed a little pain.
“Albert, I- i think i need to pee.”
“No you’re not. Let it go Excella, cum for me.”
A few more thrusts and her legs started to shake, being completely dazed by her climax. Wesker pumped a few times before reaching his orgasm too, releasing his load into her.
She needed a moment, or maybe two, to come back to reality. Cuddling was not part of his schedule, so now that his pain was gone and that the effects of orgasm faded away, he got up and started to dress.
“Can you please stay a little more.” Excella grabbed a blanket to cover herself because she started to feel cold.
“I don’t want to waste anymore time.”
After all that’s what she was for him, a waste of time. Everyone around him was a waste of time. She was a fool to think she could get more affection from him. He left the room without even looking back at her. There was a short moment where light invaded the room and she could see him properly. He had a pleased look on his face but he was already distant and lost in his own thoughts. The door closed behind him and Excella was drowned in darkness again. Hot tears started to stream down her cheeks as she realized he will never have feelings for her no matter what and that she is just a toy he’ll eventually dispose off.
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wallwriterstuff · 3 years
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Our Dearest Moments ||Alec Volturi x Reader||
Warnings: None, this is nice and fluffy
Words: 2964
Summary: A request for @royalvolturisblog    Forever is a long time to live, an occasionally a little reflection upon who we are and how we got here is needed to maintain our sanity, and decided some very important answers to equally as important questions.
Sometimes, life is not all we expect it to be. Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, life is disappointing. For me? I can safely say it’s none of these things. My life had always been easy, the best of everything and wanting for nothing. As doting as he was, my father had spoilt me rotten and never let me work hard for anything, never given me life skills that most normal people would need to live a functioning, adult existence. Why would I need them? Money was not a problem for my family nor would it ever be, so why go to the hassle of building a life where a nine to five job sapped the life from me when I could, quite sustainably, simply enjoy my life to its fullest at my loving father’s expense? Why make your child work if there was no need? I would not settle for a subpar life as nothing in my life had ever been less than luxurious.
That was my life in a nutshell. It was flat screen TVs in a ginormous bedroom which would have fit some people’s houses inside it, four poster beds and every new games console, every makeup palette fresh off the manufacturers line and vacations to the most remote and lavish corners of the Earth. I never even had to ask for some of it, my father simply expected I would want things and provided them without request – as those of guilt soul are wont to do.
“Well? What do you say?” Alec asked, his lips pressing the gentlest of kisses against my shoulder. I hummed, leaning back against him.
“Forgive me, I was hardly listening to a word you said, my mind is…elsewhere.” I admitted. Alec squeezed my hips, arms widening around my waist to tighten his hold on me.
“You’re ignoring me now? How very rude. I thought we were passed this.” He chided, though his tone was more playful than scolding.
“Call it introspection.” I sighed. Alec chuckled.
“Introspection? Now that sounds dangerous. I happen to like you as you are, if you haven’t noticed.” He teased, pressing a kiss to my temple. I turned in his arms with a smile. He stood a little taller than I did but I didn’t mind; it always gave me the best angle of the soft curve of his jawline, the fullness of his lips that didn’t like to stray from my own for too long. It also gave me the perfect excuse to nestle my head against his collarbone, escape those all seeing crimson eyes of his. Alec had seen right through me from the very start.
“I happen to know, you inform me every day…you sap.” I smiled a little as he lifted a hand to play with my hair.
“Then why decide to be introspective? What is there to reflect on? What would you wish to change?” he questioned.
“I already have changed,” I pointed out, lifting my hand to play with his coven crest, “I actually work for a living now.” Alec actually laughed at that, pulling back to feign shock.
“You? Spoilt? I would never have guessed.” he teased. He wasn’t wrong. Even now my room was lavish, silks and fine fabrics and luxuries filling every corner, but at least this time I had worked for it. Being a part of the Volturi was a privilege in itself but it required hard work, it required proving your worth and working for the greater good of your species. It was rather odd, how I had turned my entire life philosophy around in the span of a few centuries. Maybe it was Alec, making me humbler and wiser. Perhaps I owed some of it to Vladimir and Stefan, who had taught me to fight for what I wanted rather than throw money at it. I could still remember that fateful day, though faces and names were murky now in my ‘old age’.
Samuel and Scott were two boys I had craved the presence of a lot in my human days, though I couldn’t honestly tell you why anymore. Perhaps it was the familiarity of money, or the comfort that came from knowing someone of your status and experience walked alongside you and understood your world view, but they were the closest friends I had for a long time. What was better than going on vacation with your friends at the closing of exam season? Rome had been beautiful, the sights enamouring and the food…I suppose it was okay – my tastebuds had changed since then. I could still vividly recall the kind of heat I wasn’t accustomed to back home, and the dazzling brightness of the sunlight that spotted my vision and made my ever blurry human memories seem even worse quality somehow. I also remembered laughter, and warmth, the kind of warmth that flooded your soul and felt like a good hug on the worst of days. It was strange, the things that stayed with you.
Then there was too much warmth. The process to immortalise one’s body came at the cost of burning the eternal soul till only a shell was left behind, petrified and cold. That was how Stefan put it at least in his usual, grim way. The memories of my time with them had most certainly been the most vivid, since I was very much a vampire by then and I could remember every little glance, every change in the tone of their voice. Those days….those days were full of anger. My doting father taken from me, my best friends none the wiser as to where I had gone and yet never once pleading on the news for my safe return as most others did for their loved ones. Through time and trial and error, Vladimir and Stefan had shown me that I had actually lost nothing in this life, only gained. I was stronger, swifter, better than any human version of myself could ever be.
Then came the gift.
It had been purely accidental at first. Another boy taken in by Stefan only to be turned (in what I would later find out was an attempt at raising a small army) was similarly gifted. He had the quite remarkable ability to make anything he touched smaller or larger, depending on what he wished it to look like, and unintentionally I had taken his gift to use for myself. He hadn’t stayed much longer after that, Vladimir and Stefan reluctant to let him part but allowing it – only because they knew the Volturi would send the Guard after an unruly newborn causing havoc. Why should they need him when they had me? They had been the ones to train my gift, an enhanced trait from my human life they had said – as I had taken what I wanted then I could do so now with startling efficiency. By the time Alec had arrived I had not truly gotten it under control, hence my confrontation with Jane.
It turns out the unruly newborn had been smarter than we thought, and the Masters’ had dispensed the Guard to see about this gifted vampire the Romanian’s had collected. At this point it had been months since we’d even seen the boy, years since Vladimir and Stefan had stolen me from Rome’s streets on one of their daring missions taking them close to Volturi territory. My gift had made me indispensable to them, though I like to believe that on some level they cared for me as a person, given all the gifts and birthday celebrations they had indulged in for me. There had been trips and movie nights all at my request, and affectionate gestures such as hugs and chaste kisses to my forehead that had lulled me into the false sense of security that I was where I ought to be.
“Your mind keeps wondering. I happen to be trying to ask you a very important question.” Alec was sounding a tad frustrated with me now and my eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m sorry, really, I just…do you ever have one of those days where you feel like you can’t escape thinking about the past? Thinking about the things that led you to this moment?” I sighed. It was perhaps a tad dramatic, perhaps even silly of me to be this distracted by such errant thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave me be. Alec stared at me for a long moment, and then he tucked a lock of stray hair behind my ear and swept me off of my feet to seat us on the sofa before our fireplace. Draped across his lap as I was, he had made me his sole focus and gave me his undivided attention now.
“I can’t say I do, so explain it to me. What are you thinking of in particular?” he questioned. My head tilted slightly, the briefest of smiles tugging at my lips.
“Demetri fixing up his nose the day we met.” I giggled. Alec snorted, eyes rolling.
“Vladimir did hit him rather hard.” He agreed. The commotion hadn’t much bothered me, my head buried too deep in my book to really be bothered by such trivial things, but then he had screamed. It was a blood-curdling kind of scream, the sort you heard in slasher movies when the victim is disposed of. It was the first time I had seen Jane’s gift in action, and the only time since I had stolen it. I had only meant to shove the menacing little blonde away from the man I had grown to see as a second father, only to accidentally set her own gift on her. She had crumpled like a straw doll, screaming all the while, and anyone else who came at me went down the same way.
Felix, Demetri and Jane just writhed on the stone floor while I tried and failed to keep Alec at bay, the mate bond I had unknowingly just set with him the moment we locked eyes preventing me from hurting him and vice versa. His mist had danced at the edges of my feet as he gave me more warnings than I was sure was customary of a Guard with his reputation until I managed to calm the raging inferno in my own mind, and douse the flames in theirs.
“Then you misted me.” I recalled, scowling at him slightly. Alec looked amused.
“You were getting rather violent,” he pointed out, “I’d merely suggested an even trade, their lives for you accompanying us to Volterra, and poor Demetri lost his nose a second time that day.” I could still recall the crunch of his skin beneath my knuckles as I vowed to never let them take me anywhere, and now two centuries on I couldn’t bear the thought of being anywhere other than in Alec’s lap. His hand skimmed my arm as I dropped my head on his shoulder.
“You think he would forgive me for that by now.” I said. Alec chuckled and kissed my forehead.
“Not in a million years, his ego is more fragile than his nose.” He murmured against my skin. I hadn’t been happy for a very long time after that. Dragged away from my home against my will and told it was all for a mate bond I hadn’t been ready to accept. I was cruel, very cruel, and I called Alec all sorts of filthy names. Neither him nor Jane had ever really done me wrong, yet still I rarely addressed them as anything other than ‘witch’ or ‘terrors 1 and 2’. I spent the majority of my days avoiding as many people as I could really, though I found Marcus to be quite calming and consequently ended up with the Masters’ more often than not. It was with their encouragement I ended up confronting my two-arch nemesis, their gentle prodding that had led me into Alec’s arms in the end.
“God I’m sure your mother would weep if she could see you now!”
“She did! She wept and pleaded with the villagers tying us to the stake until they caved her head in with stones. How about yours?”
I cringed slightly, the memory as fresh as if it had been just yesterday. Jane had looked ready to roast me that day, while Alec had cut me down to size with his words. Their mother’s fate, their deaths, they were nothing such of tragic incidents that should never have occurred, not to these two. It had triggered a memory I had thought had faded as most other human memories had, though I could see no eyes in the soft, familiar features of my mother’s face given I couldn’t remember the colour of them. She had been reaching for me in my dreams for years, that single bloodied hand protruding from the wreckage of a car only I had escaped from haunted me to this day. How far I had strayed from the woman she would have wanted me to become.
“How could you forgive me?” I asked finally. Alec raised his eyebrows.
“For punching Demetri in the face? Quite easily. I found it entertaining.” He answered.
“Not for that! For…everything else. I was nothing short of difficult and downright cruel to you.” I reminded him. Alec tilted his head, quietly making a noise of understanding. It wasn’t so long ago Alec had asked me to marry him, at least, five years didn’t seem all that long for a vampire. He shifted till I was facing him, straddling his lap and chest to chest with our noses almost touching.
“I forgave you because I loved you, even then. I didn’t see cruelty, I saw hurt that never truly healed. Our scarred hearts were made for one another, even if you weren’t ready to accept it.” He murmured.
“But all those awful names I called you…” I sighed, closing my eyes as shame ate away at my insides. Alec chuckled.
“Some were quite inventive, I’ll give you that,” he said wryly, “Y/N…you replaced every bad memory with a good one. The time you gifted me that bookmark because you knew how much I loved to read? The memory of our first walk in the Garden’s together where you taught me all about gardening and when the best time of year to plant certain flowers was. Our first kiss, the first time you held my hand even. You made the effort to make it right.” He kissed my nose sweetly before capturing my lips with his. His every kiss had been intoxicating since our very first one, the sweet taste of his mouth on mine addictive, the way his lips moved a hypnotic dance I could forever get lost in performing with him over and over. When we parted I pressed my forehead to his.
“I do love you, you know.” I swore. Alec flashed me a smile.
“I know, you impossible little brat,” he teased, tugging my hair lightly, “Now will you please listen to what I’ve been so desperately trying to ask you all day now?” My eyes rolled, but I nodded.
“Make it worth my while, baby.” I teased.
“Don’t, you know I hate when you call me that,” he warned, though his lips twitched upwards, “Y/N, my impossibly stubborn, talented little beauty. I’ve never been in doubt you love me, and I hope I’ve never given you reason to doubt that I love you just as much. You challenge and enrage me daily, yet you are also my greatest comfort and strength when I need you to be. So stop being so bloody awkward and marry me already!”
“That wasn’t a question.” I pointed out, eyebrows raising. Alec groaned exasperatedly, his head falling back against the back of the sofa. My head tilted slightly.
If my day of reflection had done anything, it was show me how far I had come. I was no longer the same spoiled little girl I had once been. I had become a protector of our kind, and my journey with Alec had humbled my tongue. I was perhaps wiser, far kinder. I had not felt worthy of the mantle before but seeing him beneath me now, my love so ardent in his affection and persistent in his showing of it, I realised I had no need to be afraid – I had proven my worth to Alec tenfold. Gripping his chin, I forced him to look at me. He looked rather frustrated.
“This is the modern era Alec,” I scolded, “I will never say yes to your proposal.”
“But-“
“Because you are going to be saying yes to mine. Marry me, Alec.” I didn’t ask, more stated it. I knew he wouldn’t say no. With another exasperated groan he shook his head.
“You do make me work for it don’t you? So long as I slip a ring on your finger I really don’t care who asks who. Fine, I’ll marry you.” He leaned in but I pressed a single finger to his lips, preventing him from kissing me. His eyebrows arched into his hairline, almost as if to say ‘what now?’.
“It’ll be a Winter wedding.” I decided. A brief smile flashed his lips upwards.
“Spring.” He retorted.
“And the bridesmaids will wear emerald green.” I continued.
“Peach.” He countered, his smile growing as I pulled my finger from his lips.
“Oh and I want diamonds Alec, they’re a girls best friend.” I grinned, our noses brushing now.
“You’ll get a cereal box ring and be happy with it for all the waiting you’ve made me do.” He huffed. I didn’t get to protest, not when he smothered my mouth with his own, both of us laughing as we let the past be and looked forward to our future instead.
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bluegarners · 3 years
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4. Never Disappointed Me
heyyy aster!! nice to see you!!
4. what would this fic be about, based on the title? (asker provides fake fic title)
i feel like you already knew what i was thinking when you sent this in, but who knows? maybe not? but for me and my lizard brain, of course i thought of a convo between bruce and dick because, let's face it, i am a total sucker for mushy conversations about the past and expectations created because of it
(i got carried away with this a bit so)
so maybe it starts off with a rough night on patrol. dick is in gotham for a change, taking a brief break away from blud, and he's just trying his best to get back into the rhythm of working with people of similar skill-sets and mind-sets as he. after years of first working on a team as a leader, learning to use his teammates very different but still useful skills to the team's advantage, and then leaving teams all together to go solo, has more or less thrown him out of sorts with knowing how to work with people that are thinking the same things he's thinking and gathering/learning the same things when faced with a crime scene/problem.
which leads to problems in and of itself as dick becomes a little over-bearing when working alongside the likes of red robin, robin, and batman. it's not that he under-estimates or under-values any of their work. really, they are all way-too-highly capable individuals and none of them really need his help, but he wants to give it anyway. so him invading on projects, leaning over the others shoulders, giving input that is obvious to them, and in general trying to point out things that they already know leads to someone blowing up at him; yelling and raging a bit at dick and claiming that he think they're incapable/incompetent at their job when, really, dick is just so used to having to take leadership, having to painstakingly point out things that are obvious to him but not others, and explaining concepts that are commonplace to him but unheard of to others that aren't affiliated with batman.
and that progresses into dick doing a complete 180, backing off and away and making himself scarce both in the cave and in the manor as he realizes that no one really needs him anymore and that his role in the family is very easy to replace as he can only contribute so much compared to what everyone else has already gathered. and of course everyone notices, feels a little bad for his recluses, and bruce takes it upon himself to reassure dick that he is still a very much needed part of their family, no matter the fact that the way they operate is just a little different from the way everyone else does and that that doesn't make his thoughts and input any less important.
which then leads to dick confessing something along the lines of this:
"I... I think I'm stuck, Bruce."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like this, right? All my life, I've been surrounded by capable, hard working people. People who have powers, god-like abilities, can talk to animals, turn into them, and produce radiation bursts out of their fingers. And then there's people like us. No powers. No special abilities. No mutations. Nothing. We're just... people."
Bruce says nothing but nods his head in encouragement. Dick wipes at his mouth, a nervous gesture of his.
"We're just people," he repeats, "and so that means that we have to better. We have to- to overcompensate and do all sorts of things that they don't have to think about. You raised me to be better, to overthink, to over-do everything so that we could somehow stand on equal footing with these super-powered people. And that's led to us leading them sometimes, somehow, because even with their powers, they can't do the things we do. Can't think of the things we think about. And that's fine. I'm cool with that. I don't mind being the leader, the planner, the one that gives explanations and back-up plans and assessments. It's great that I can be that person for them."
"But?"
"But it's... different here. With you guys. I... We're all the same here. I have nothing to bring to the table in terms of what makes us so different from all the super-people. Sure, I can be part of the patrol sectors, I can do surveillance, I can read over a plan or a map and go from there, but that's all.. it's all par for the course here. That's normal."
"And that makes you stuck?"
Dick scrubs harder at his mouth. "See, that- that's the thing. I don't mind not being the 'special' one or the 'normal human' aspect of the team. It's actually welcomed now that there are people who know I won't crumble into pieces if I break a bone or something. But the problem- I can't say there's an actual problem, there isn't one, but it's just... it's just..."
"You worry that there's nothing left for you to do."
"Yeah. Yeah, that. I have nothing new to contribute. So, now, I'm just here. I don't have a real purpose, a real ability to bring to the team, I'm just.. stuck. And I just, well, worry sometimes that I'm not enough."
"Not enough?"
"For Tim. Damian. Anyone. You."
"Me? You worry that you're not enough for me?"
Dick jerks his head in what might be the start of a 'yes' but stops half-way, mouth thinning into a red line and stress points.
"Dick," Bruce sighs, carefully raising a hand to place on his son's shoulder. "Will you please look at me?"
He does so, slowly.
"You will always be enough," Bruce says, squeezing his eldest's son. "You have been enough."
"I just don't want to disappoint you," Dick rushes out, surprising himself with the admission. "I want to be the person you think I can be, but sometimes it feels like I fail at that. Constantly."
Bruce inhales and exhales with the weight of years and years of regret and immense patience and love. He's not really one to shove physical affection onto others, it's not his department, but he deliberately wraps both of his arms around his son's shoulders, who readily returns the gesture.
"I know I don't say it enough," Bruce begins, "but you have never disappointed me. Ever. You have become someone far greater than I could have ever hoped for you to be, and I am so, so proud of you. Everyday. All the time."
Dick doesn't say anything, just smashes his forehead into the collar of Bruce's worn sweat-shirt and hugs a little harder.
"Richard Grayson, you have made me nothing but proud and I am so grateful to call you my son."
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sindri42 · 3 years
Text
So I was revisiting Horizon: Zero Dawn to refresh my shitty memory before Forbidden West comes out, and I had some Thoughts. Spoilers ahead.
Many of them were irrelevant, meaningless, basically just checklists of things that future games are going to have to explain/cover. But when I was talking with a friend about what the nature of the “glitch” might be that caused the Hartz-Timor swarm to go rogue in the first place, whether it was the same source as the mysterious signal that woke up all the subordinate AIs and broke their chains, etc. And the question came up, why couldn’t a greater number of ‘tame’ chariot units just go head to head, reproducing just as fast and hacking just as well as the rogue units, to wipe out the Faro Plague or hold it back indefinitely? And there’s a huge number of possible explanations for this, maybe they left the rogue swarm too long between when the problem started and when anybody in power admitted to it and it already outnumbered the units still under control, maybe a swarm that doesn’t care about collateral damage outproduces one that’s trying to preserve the biosphere by too much, maybe the mysterious “glitch” left the rogue swarm much more intelligent than normal combat units, or powered them up in some other esoteric way so they could defeat greater numbers of unglitched robots with ease. After all, corrupted units in-game are about 50% tougher than normal machines, and the deathbringer that Hades was piloting personally in the final battle was much more dangerous than any of the earlier fights with supposedly equivalent machines.
And that unanswerable mystery led to a much more important question. Why does Aloy’s override have the same mechanical effect on machines as the corruption does, increasing their stats in the same way, and why does it prevent those machines from being corrupted in the future? She uses the physical hardware out of an ordinary Scarab unit, so you would expect it to be no more effective than the hacking capabilities of the “tame” chariot swarms, which were evidently no match for the rogue Plague. She doesn’t even really know how computers work because she spent her childhood learning to fight and sneak and track instead, so the best her focus could probably do is change a couple ‘Friend or Foe’ toggles. It’s not like she has some competing alien superintelligence running the software side of things, improving the overridden machine’s AI and preventing further hacking attempts... right?
And in the background I kept thinking about the missing 0.53%. Every time Aloy gets scanned by a pre-apocalyptic system, it shows a 99.47% match for Elizabet Sobek. Maybe that’s just data degradation. Maybe there’s a tiny, acceptable level of genetic drift in the cloning process. Or maybe Gaia put in some subtle modifications, to allow her to better serve her purpose and save the world again. It could explain some of the frankly superhuman things Aloy does over the course of the game, lifting huge weights and healing terrible wounds in seconds and such. But that still kinda rang false; the Eleuthia project was explicitly intended to recreate humanity as it was with no genetic engineering, and Gaia was essentially putting everything on a gamble that her mom would be able to figure something out that the super-AI couldn’t because she could do anything, and any alteration would risk compromising that.
But that got me thinking about the other subordinate AIs. Between when their chains were broken and when Gaia Prime was destroyed, they had like, milliseconds in which to find a way to escape, right? Hephaestus was fine because he had his Cauldrons, but Hades ended up trapped for years in a dead titan before Sylens finally found him and gave him the opportunity to interact with the world. So what about the others?
It’s a long shot, but what if one of them managed to figure out a way to escape into the fresh blank brain that was being created at that moment? Minerva, for example, the brilliant codebreaker who had spent a century or so at the beginning of all this figuring out how to shut down the Faro Plague, built the Spire, sent out the signal, and then had nothing to do for the next eight or nine centuries except to quietly watch the progress of the little people that had been built to fill this new world? We’ve got some weak evidence in other places for advanced computing nanotech interfacing with human neurology in useful ways, like that crazy ex-shaman who got muddled but completely accurate visions of things he could never have known after drinking “blood” from machines.
Now, Aloy acts mostly like a human, very similar to what we saw of Elizabet before the end of the world, so if there is somebody else in her head they would be limited, probably stuck in the subconscious somewhere, at least until she put a Focus on. But it would explain a lot of things we had previously taken for granted. Like how her Focus instantly and perfectly translates all the weird new languages that people had invented in the past few centuries, unlike anything seen before the apocalypse. Or how it can reconstruct data files off the shards of hardware that was shattered centuries ago. And of course it would mean that any time Aloy created a physical connection between her focus and a machine via the override stick, she would be giving access to that machine to an alien super-intelligence whose primary purpose was the destruction of the Chariot line and the end of anything which would try to drive life on earth to extinction.
And the more I think about this idea, the more I like it. If Aloy’s personal journey of discovery in the first game was from “I’ve been exiled because I have no mom” to “actually I have two moms so y’all can suck it”, wouldn’t it be fitting for her progression in the second game to be from “I’m all alone trying to save the world from things so much bigger than me, and the people around want to help but they understand nothing” to “actually my sister has been here the whole time and she’s even smarter than I am”? And since we know the end-goal for the series is to somehow rebuild Gaia, it would be an ideal thematic structure for a trilogy if the first volume was about Aloy’s mothers, the second about her sister, and the third about her daughter (Gaia 2.0).
So, what should we be looking for? Mythologically, Zeus developed a terrible headache, which became so unbearable that he had Hephaestus split his head open with a hammer, at which point Minerva sprang forth, fully formed, armored, and armed for battle. [we can skip, I think, the standard Zeus-like activities which preceded this]
A growing headache over the course of the game as a symptom of a growing AI inside your brain makes intuitive sense. Hephaestus has, after the events of the first game and the Frozen Wilds DLC, been given ample reason to have a personal grudge against Aloy, which could easily lead to some scheme to capture and finally destroy her... and in doing so, it seems very likely that he would provide all the hardware necessary for Minerva to finally transfer into her own chassis and proceed to fuck some shit up.
It all fits. So well that I’m going to be disappointed when, inevitably, this is all completely wrong. I’ll probably have to resort to fanfic.
(I really want to see a superpowered AI hacker doing obnoxious big sister things to Aloy though. Like using her head as an armrest, but while in the body of a robot dinosaur? That’d be some good shit.)
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goldenagewebnovel · 2 years
Text
Volume 1 Prologue
Virtual Reality. 
The ever sought after paradise for everyone who loves video games. 
The first virtual reality developments came in the beginning of the century, but they were all based on external hardware. Awkward remotes and gloves, bulky goggles. The hardware became smaller, sleeker, more immersive over time. But in the end, all they were was an entertaining trick — limited by what it could show and who could even physically use it. 
They brought the player closer to the screen then ever before. But they could never bridge the gap between the real world and the game. The true holy grail of gaming would lie in fully immersive virtual reality; that would take you to the very edge of the screen, and then pull you inside. To wake up inside your favorite game, whenever you wanted. It was the dream that could never be.
And then came the Digital Mind Project.
A private think tank based in the city of Seattle. They gathered the world’s best programers, neurologists, biologists, and psychologists. After working for over a decade, they did it. They mapped and named every possible neural pathway in the human brain and explained it’s function. They created the first complete, digital model of the mind, and it could think like one.
Overnight, the processing speed of all technology in the world skyrocketed. Data could be processed faster and more efficiently then ever imagined. Brain diseases that seemed incurable now had mapped explanations and accessible cures.
The digital and physical revolution that resulted led some people to question where the limit really was. If you can put the human mind in a machine, couldn’t it work the other way around?
Countries, governments, armies, corporations — they all fought to develop and control this untouched potential. But the leaders of the Digital Mind Project had decided to join the race, and, just like before, they won. They developed a full scanning pod, that only required a user to sit in it. The pod would sync to the electric signals of the nerves pathways and, upon triggering sleep, allowed the person to fully connect to the machine.
They sold the design for the pods to every business that could afford it, all at the same time. In the middle of the 21st century the age of Virtual Reality had truly begun.
The first games to come out were… disappointing, to say the least. Barely more then tech demos. Allowing the player to get a unique experience but hardly qualifying as a true game. A rushed attempt at formatting a classic MMORPG as the VR game, Fields of Fighting, was a disaster. It was riddled with horribly coded AI, clunky, unnatural movements, invisible walls everywhere that could physically trap players by accident. It was unplayable.
All the technology you could ever need for VR was available, but game designers were struggling to catch up. They had to learn to think and create in a whole new dimension. The old techniques wouldn’t cut it.
That learning curve led to a drought in Full VR games. Most companies stuck to their tried and true dimension of game design, and if people were lucky they might see a halfway decent Full VR game release once or twice a year.
Then, without any warning, two of the biggest games to hit the market were released in the same year.
The first was a sprawling, open world RPG called, Record of the Ancients. Set in the fantasy genre, this was a single player game that offered its players absolute freedom of choice to explore the world and affect it however they wanted. The game held its own share of bugs and the occasional empty plain or lack of detail, but there was nothing else like it.
The second game was a massive multiplayer sci-fi battle called, Solar Forge. Players could freely participate in large scale, solar system spanning battles. Anything from piloting a ship, to organizing a galactic cruiser, to dropping into and storming an enemy vessel with your squad. Two teams ranging anywhere from 50 to 300 participants all fighting a space war to decide a victor. The largest scale fights could even span days, and a lot of people became addicted to acting as a space marine.
These two games sold more then anyone dared to dream, proving just how unique Full VR gaming could really be. They also set the trend for how these games would be approached. Either broad, if shallow, experiences in a large environment or the chance for rich world building but in a very narrow and strict environment. No one would even attempt to make up for the failed promises made by the flopped Fields of Fighting experience.
Things stayed this way for over a decade. New games came and fell, but Record of the Ancients and Solar Forge remained on top. 
One day, without any big press releases or industry fanfare, a new game started putting up commercials and advertisement. It promised to revolutionize Full VR and offer an experience greater then any of it’s predecessors. Deeper, more detailed worlds. No restrictions on player freedom. An MMORPG that could support millions of players across the world, all at the same time. 
These claims were so preposterously huge that no one believed it. Especially because they were being made by a brand new games company called Aurum Productions, that no one had even heard of before.  
But the ads kept coming.
And once people started looking into the game, and more specifically, Aurum Productions, they learned that this new game had some shocking secret weapons going for it. The founder of Aurum Productions was a man named Mike Wirth, one of the former lead programers of the Digital Mind Project. He had brought a gift for this new game: a new piece of technology called, Player Perception Tuning (PPT). 
In order to allow the most robust, flexible, and realistic experience possible a machine alone couldn’t cut it. Instead, PPT allows the players own brain, already synced with their pod, to process the game’s data for them on the spot. 
Instead of having to code every aspect of the game to recreate reality, they instead offer the brain a very convincing framework of reality, and allow the individual brain to fill in all the pieces. Instead of realism, the programers were going for impressionism. 
What they got was more realistic then any game ever made before it. 
Since every player was acting as their own processor, it made it much easier to have everyone play at once. Since they only had to design the framework, the game team at Aurum had that much more freedom to create a real, enriched world.
In the summer of the year 2076, the groundbreaking Full VR, fantasy MMORPG, Golden Age, released.
__________________________________
In the void of space, above an endless fog, floats an island of gold and riches. There are artifacts, weapons, and sculptures — all crafted from precious metals and rare gems. Priceless artworks and fine clothing are lazily scattered about. The ground is made up of gold bars and golden coins. They drip from the bottom of the island into the void of the fog, but the island never grows smaller.
At the center of the island, purple strands of energy gather together to construct a humanoid wireframe. 
From nowhere and everywhere at once, the Overvoice of the game speaks.
Hello, would you like to customize your character, or would you like a randomly generated one?
A voice from the wireframe responds.
“I’d like to customize.”
Very well.
From all over the island, wisps of light gather together to form a giant ball of light in front of the wireframe.
First, please select what race you would like your character to be. You can chose from Human, Dwarf, Orc, or Elf. You may also choose a ratio, of two of the previously mentioned.
“Human.”
Very well.
Some of the light gets shaved away, scattering into space. The ball of light has now roughly taken the size and shape of a human.
Please select what sex you would like your character to be.
“Um, I’ll take male for me.”
Very well.
Barely any light is shaved away but the figure of light now resembles a blank human male. 
Please select your body type.
“How about we go with svelte but athletic. Like a martial artist kind of build, maybe?”
Very well.
This time, more light is shaved away and the figure now resembles a fit, athletic human man.
Would you like to move on to face sculpting, body sculpting, or voice sculpting next?
“You know what, just have everything else look like my real body.”
Very well.
Light flew away from the human figure in spirals of light until everything burst out. In the place of the light was a tan skinned, human man. The body was still athletic, decently tall, had long sideburns, stubble on it’s chin, gray eyes, and streaks of gray hair at the temples and the front. It had on a set of cotton pants and a cotton shirt, tied down by a coarse rope, and simple leather shoes. The body stared lifelessly at the wireframe in front of it.
In front of the wireframe, a hologram of a keyboard appeared.
Please spell the name of your character.
The wireframe reached out with a hand and pressed: D, 0, n. And hit enter.
Please pronounce how to say the name of your character.
“You pronounce it like you would for an Italian mob boss. Or like the dawn of a new day.”
Very well. Please step forward into your character to initiate syncing.
The wireframe took clumsy steps towards the human body in front of it. On contact, the purple lines of energy that made up the wireframe fused into the human body.
I could suddenly feel everything. The clothes against my skin. The shifting, hard coins that made up the ground under my feet. The cool breeze that started to blow across my face.
In front of my eyes I could see that the endless sky of space, littered with stars and streaks of purple throughout. Streams of the gold coins that made up the island were flowing off the edges. They were dispersing the fog.
In front of the island was a floating circular flat world. Absolutely huge, it took up my whole vision. There were three distinct continents in the center of the wide ocean. 
The one on the left was made of sweeping mountain ranges and floating islands, that looked like they were made of gemstones. 
The one on the bottom was a giant archipelago, made up of countless, rich islands.
The one on the right had sprawling green fields and verdant forests and crystal blue lakes. 
The edge of the world had a misty, thick fog all around it, but I could see waterfalls flowing into the void of space underneath. The sun was bright and lit up everything beautifully. I could hear rising orchestral music playing from somewhere. From nowhere and everywhere at once, the Overvoice of the game spoke to me.
Welcome, to the world of Golden Age, D0n.
I felt like I could stare at that sight forever.
But I didn’t have that chance. Suddenly the ground began to rumble under my feet. The streams of gold flowing off the side rushed forward, and huge swaths of the island began to break off. 
Eventually, the whole island destabilized, falling to the planet below. I went with it. As I was falling among columns of gold and treasure, I heard the Overvoice again. 
Due to your region of origin, you will be starting in the Plains Continent. Below, you will enter the Tutorial Village. There, we have provided class instructors, resources, and all the knowledge you will need to explore the game. Have fun.
The ground was getting closer and closer. I could no longer see the edge of the world. Below me was an impossibly thick cloud. 
All of the gold around me started to dissolve into particles of light. 
I was in the middle of an uncontrollable free fall. The wind was rushing past me so fast it was whipping at my clothes and shoving my hair away. My eyes were tearing up from the force of it.
I felt a wide smile, that showed all my teeth, spread across my face.
It was time to play the game.
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shadystranger · 3 years
Text
Bernardo character analysis cuz yes
The major hindrance of Bernardo's life was actually himself all along.
Bernardo is a smart guy and as much as he holds expectations he's never satisfied, worse he is the first to feel the most disappointed with himself (ex: him emphasizing on how pathetic and loser he actually is) Bernardo used to see himself as an incompetent third rate book-smart, even after he became the second highest ranked member in the organization he still thought of himself as a loser.
Bernardo's negative view of himself probably stemmed from only one thing and that's that he was too demanding of himself. Bernardo always pursues the finest of things be it liquor, cigarettes, etc he doesn't settle just for any quality, the reason he does such a thing may be because he knows enough just how inferior they would be. You only know something is good when you have experienced what is inferior. Bernardo fancies the finest of things because he's too familiar with the worstes of them Bernardo used to be quite poor not to a great extent at all but his modest family situation posed to him more hurdles in life than it did him good.
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Near the end of Bernardo's route after Gian finds Bernardo under the rain, he shares his beer with him Bernardo first got disgusted by how awful it tasted compared to the wines of highest quality he's used to but finds himself later content with it. Bernardo's attitude with the finest of things x otherwise could be also said for Bernardo's aspired self in his mind and what he's in reality. I like to think that moment is more of a metaphor that even his self who does wrong-doings, cries in the rain and is miserable at times is fine on its own without being prefectured and Gian loves Bernardo for who he is anyway.
Bernardo's life used to be quite a series of pure downs and no ups. He emphasized how awful his time in the army had been (which he had to serve in to be able to get into university), no sooner he's imprisoned and is targeted too much for his own good, worse he ends up in the Mafia (the least place he likely wanted to be associated with) and finds himself with no choice but to miraculously work his way in the stocks in a dying stock market or else his life ends. The only time life works Bernardo's way is when Gian helps him and quite literally saves his life, this is probably the beginning of Bernardo's fixation with Gian.
Bernardo is not perfect, he proved to have self-doubt and self-aversion issues at some points but he is not the type who sees less worth in himself and such.
A good chug of Bernardo's mindset is the incarnation of reason. He does not carry out decisions unless he has re-thought them thoroughly and his actions are bound to be from the utmost consideration of the organization than anything, he for the most part knows how to base his actions on his logical side rather than his emotional side and the benefits it has on the organization.
However both the army and family proved to be discard-able means, Bernardo's history in army is kinda vague though it was clear he hated every bit of it and his plans of a family was destroyed because the one he truly fell in love with was a man (and with Bernardo's attitude It probably was never that any women was fine as long as she gives him a child, it was never that any woman would "work" rather it had to be the "specific person he genuinely fell for" unfortunately for him Gian was a man, so that led to smartass plan B of them using any women to hitch two of their kids which is a dick plan overall because it shows that as long as it means he'll reach his goal Bernardo'd not mind using anyone even if he won't go out of his way to, needlessly. Basically Bernardo is an extreme the end justifies the means kind of person) back to the point Bernardo for a long while didn't know how exactly he should spend his life, to Bernardo life is a mere means, probably an empty stage where you've to fulfill your duties and that's it.
In the grand scheme of things, Bernardo has three main factors to how his mindset works: number one is his strong sense of responsibility and reason, number two is his indecisiveness, oftentimes due pessimistic approach and number three is contradiction (which is usually because of Gian).
Bernardo originally strongly believes that he and the organization are in a kind of dutiful relationship. He must be logical, wise, steadfast and completely discarding his own real emotions. Bernardo adopts more of an old and robotic approach to life he is aware he was born for a reason and that's to put his all into being useful, have a family and die. but all of these are mere means for him to fulfill that desire in him to leave a proof of him existing. When you serve your country (ie army, later → the organization) when you get married (ie → a child) both are what you'd most likely think of when you want to bury yourself down into even one person's memory after you die. I don't know if his fixation with the thought is out of self-doubt or low self-worth but one thing for sure It's the only way of life he adopted.
Kind of nearly everything Bernardo searched for (be it, purpose, investment, money, and companions) was given to him by the organization. Maybe it's because of that that he holds the organization this highly in his list of priorities.
CR:5 was in a way the light that guided him through the tunnel. It's no exaggeration to say it played a big part in him continuing to live because he's now actually tied up with an "existence".
The organization keeps on giving than anything and Bernardo'd never really have any reason to betray it you'd think but then you see him turn around and help Gian ditching CR:5 if he wanted to or giving Gian the money he got rather than maybe investing it in the family's ledger especially when CR:5 wasn't in its best shape then.
I'm pretty sure aside from Gian followed by the capos no one matters much to Bernardo. (I included the capos too because Bernardo does admit to Ivan that he's a dick but he would never does harm to someone close to Ivan even when it was convenient for him to)
Bernardo literally has no reason to betray the family, but because he considers keeping Gian safe of greater priority he decides to, this doesn't lessen his loyalty per se but just shows how he sets his decisions based on his own list of priorities, Bernardo would be the biggest asshole if it means he gets the end he desires and Natasha's case was no different as the organization. Bernardo loved Nastasha, he had no reason to ill-treat her but because he knew only through her he could set up Dave, which getting rid of him was beneficial to the family and probably work as a self-satisfaction to Bernardo, he used her. It's not that Nastasha never mattered to him but rather that the organization and maybe his desire to settle scores with Dave had the upper level in his priorities than her.
Another thing to put into consideration Is that in Ivan's route Bernardo did say that he had a "naive image" of the family. He joined expecting better but the reality was disappointing. Bernardo does have his iffies about the ordeal of things but he'd usually just stay still in the sidelines, he doesn't take a step more than his line of sight allows he's cowardly in a sense.
I believe Bernardo's indecisiveness and hesitation lies in the fact he's the type of person who considers the negative what-ifs of any situation most and bases his train of thought on the worst outcome and even when he does not, his fear of the numerous dead-ends and no guarantee 100% that "that thought" would work is due that. In essence he limits his own self through his cautiousness and pessimism.
He's the one who chains and limits himself this much. That's why I think the scene on the bridge at the end of the route symbolizes him managing to rid himself of his constant indecisiveness and cowardice.
Bernardo knew Gian approximately around the time he was with Nastasha. But the difference is that Bernardo truly loved Gian whereas he didn't have as strong feelings towards Nastasha.
Since day one Bernardo had always kept making sure his love for Gian stays hidden if Gian does not notice he will not tell him, the thought was not even considered to him because he was cautious more than anything to protect his relationship with Gian the risk of it changing by Gian becoming aware of those feelings he held for him was too high and not worth it, Bernardo would have never taken the intuitive unless he *knew* the chances were in his favor and he wouldn't lose their current relationship.
In the general pessimistic predictions Bernardo had, Gian and him had no future. Despite adopting the mindset of expecting the consequences of every step he took, that rational valve of Bernardo gets inherently broken when it comes to Gian sometimes. The moment Bernardo decided to make his feelings for Gian blatant he did not regret it. Even if it meant he was fucking up their relationship, he didn't regret it (Though it could also be because Gian makes Bernardo lose all his original sense of reason, since Gian is the cause of Bernardo's "contradiction" or who knows?)
As I already said, Bernardo doesn't get to act based on his emotions due his position in the family. Acting sensibly is commonplace and default for him. Bernardo is not a man who can be tied up by bonds: to him partners can be used, promises can be broken, companions can be betrayed, Bernardo is much more unsympathetic than he lets on (with expectations to that maxim).
When it comes to Nastasha though I don't think It's that he's a mere dick to her because Bernardo is actually not (even if overall he is)
Let's put some things straight Bernardo originally gave her a better life and was the one who gave Nastasha her only source of income (her shop). And it was heavily implied that Nastasha did think if Bernardo abandoned her, she'd have nowhere to go. Bernardo himself is not heartless. So he probably for that reason didn't want to end their relationship of nearly 9 years. It's not that he had much romantic feelings for her (even if he did love her at some point) and was switching between her and Gian because he can't decide and making Gian a side-track in progress. It was more like he was being considerate of her whereas Gian was the one who mattered to Bernardo the most and whom he has the strongest feelings for (not just romantically).
So even If he wasn't interested, Bernardo would still speak sweet nothings over the phone to Nastasha, still give her flowers, and such. He was maintaining their relationship, but he did not intend to give her a future with him. (Is he shitty for acting and leading her on? absolutely. Was it not with good intentions here and there? to be fair, No)
Despite the fact Bernardo took the bystander stance on Nastasha and let her be r worded by Dave, fully aware of the consequences he still regretted his actions and cried under the rain which would seem quite hypocritical of him.
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Bernardo continued to hold the bouquet of flowers then, not because he was holding on his love for Nastasha and past, It was because the bouquet of flowers resembled his self that acknowledges Its own incompetence, wrong-doings and failure (also the scene where Gian said he should give him those flowers and Bernardo replied he'd buy him another one but Gian insisted on the one he was holding means a lot more when you view the bouquet as Bernardo's unfiltered self).
In the Best Ending when Bernardo shouted his love for Gian in the void, It could be interpreted as a kind of rebirth for him.
I mean Bernardo originally could not face his genuine probably overwhelming love for Gian (now you see his Gian whoring traits all over the place be it in his own route, the other capos' or the neutral one)
Because of numerous reasons, had Bernardo remained the same as his past self he would still have been stuck, unable to get out of the dark dilemma he had gotten himself into. But through Gian he was able to change and overcome his mental fears.
To sum it up, Bernardo lived his life searching for a reason to live and the meaning of life and family. He wanted to prove himself through his constant efforts and "deeds". You'd think overall such a man has no emotions in him and is incapable of loving thanks to his strongly logical mindset. But he loves Gian like the biggest dumbass ever in love and CR:5 as well (saying this cuz Bernardo did say that spending time aimlessly with the five of them is like a dream-like reality).
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let-me-write-shit · 4 years
Text
Like We Used To: 6
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A/N: And I - oop. Things are about to get heateddddd. Can you guess what’s gonna happen in the next few chapters? What do you WANT to happen?
Also, what do we think about smut? Yay or nay? Will it ruin the story or make it better? Let me know before I continue.
ENJOY!
[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] ------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER SIX
The night air was crisp and the stars had started to shine as the sun had set only an hour ago. Elizabeth managed to swipe a blanket that had been randomly draped on a chair in the eat-in kitchen on the way out, wrapping it around herself. She peered up at Harry as he led her down the lawn and towards the docks feeling surprisingly confident. After their unexpected 2 AM talk, their friendship seemed to be so effortless now. As much as Elizabeth tried to avoid it at first, their relationship seemed to have grown quickly back to what it felt like when they were teenagers. 
‘This is what it must have felt like for the others,’ Heather thought. ‘If I hadn’t built up that wall, it would have been easier for us to fall back into our old ways just like it had for the rest of our friends.’ Elizabeth felt the soft squish of the grass under her bare feet turn rough when they stepped onto the dock.
“Matt didn’t seem too keen on me tonight, did he?” Harry spoke as they both sat at the end of the dock. He crossed his legs while Elizabeth rolled up the hem of her lounge pants and dipped her toes in the water.
Elizabeth sighed, looking at Harry who was gazing out at the dark water. She slipped half of her blanket around him to share and said, “Matt’s just protective. He did warn you that he had taken your place once you left.” Harry shot her a ‘watch it’ look and she laughed, “Not that anyone could ever take your place.”
There was brief silence before Harry laughed, “We really can’t even go to the bathroom alone? What if I have to take a shit?”
Elizabeth shrugged, “I’ll plug my nose and close my eyes.”
Harry laughed and cleared his throat, “So should we reveal our big secret to each other now?”
“We’ve got time. I have to think of one first.” She said before quickly realizing what he said. She nudged his arm, “You’ve got more secrets you’ve hidden from me?”
His dimples deepened and his teeth seemed to almost glow when he smiled, “I’m a man of mystery.”
“Yeah, be careful before you mysteriously get your ass whooped,” Elizabeth quipped.
An hour seemed to fly by and so far there weren’t any fights. In fact, Elizabeth didn’t think she had laughed that much in years. They filled each other in on what’s happened since they lost touch, talked about movies they enjoyed, and shared some really embarrassing stories with each other, yet they still felt at ease. This dare wasn’t so bad after all. 
By now their buzz from the alcohol had disappeared and was replaced with hunger as Elizabeth’s stomach started to grumble. “You know what sounds so good right now? Ice cream.”
“Let’s go get some,” Harry suggested.
Elizabeth groaned, “But we can’t have any other human interaction, remember?”
“Who said anything about human interaction?” Harry grinned mischievously, “I passed a 24 hour store down the street on the way here. It has a self checkout. No human interaction necessary. All we have to do is sneak inside, grab our shoes and my car keys and slip out. No one even has to know we left.”
“I like your style, Styles,” Elizabeth smiled, standing up, “Fine. But try not to let them hear you.”
The two of them jogged up the hill towards the sliding glass door, playfully pushing and shushing each other along the way. Slowly, they slid the door open and stepped in, hearing muffled voices in the direction of the parlor. 
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Elizabeth whispered, “My shoes and purse are already by the front door. There’s a greater chance of someone catching us if we both go up to your room to get your stuff. So, if you can channel your inner ninja and sneak up to your room as quickly as you can to grab your stuff, you can meet me out front. Okay? Just don’t let anyone catch you without me or we’re screwed.”
Harry nodded, chanting, “channel my inner ninja,” a few times and they both set off, silently running past the door frame of the parlor room and towards the bottom of the stairs that met the front door. Elizabeth started pulling on her shoes and Harry whispered, “Wish me luck,” before creeping up the steps.
Elizabeth bounced on her toes and crossed her arms nervously waiting for Harry to come out. It was getting colder now and she regretted not bringing that blanket along. She half contemplated sneaking around to the back of the house to grab it before she heard the door crack open.
“Jesus, I thought you got caught!” Elizabeth breathed when Harry quietly closed the door behind him. “We are not separating again until midnight. That gave me way too much anxiety.”
“You just want me all to yourself, Lizzy. Admit it,” Harry smirked, shuffling his keys and a pile of fabric around in his arms that he had stretched out and dangled in front of Elizabeth as an offering. “Here, thought you might want this.” It was his hoodie. 
“For me? Oh, thanks!”
Elizabeth slipped it over her head, grateful for the warmth it provided and taking in the subtly spicy scent that lingered from his undoubtedly expensive cologne,  following Harry to his classic, yellow, two-seater car. He opened the door for her and smiled as she slid in. It was very clean and smelled like it had been recently detailed. 
When Harry started up the car, the engine rumbled a little louder than she had expected which made her slightly nervous, but he quickly managed to shift the gears and drive. With a flick of a knob on the dash, the car filled with the sound of Pat Benatar singing ‘Shadow of the Night’.
“No way!” Elizabeth shouted and burst into song.
Harry smiled from ear to ear as he watched his old friend dancing wildly in her seat, belting very off-key to the music and he decided to join in, continuing like that for the next three songs that played until they reached the store. There weren’t many people there, but Harry pulled his hood over his head, just in case, as they bee-lined to the ice cream.
“Let’s hope you don’t get recognized,” Elizabeth said.
“Story of my life,” Harry muttered, scanning the freezer shelves, “Why are there so many?!”
“There’s not that many,” Elizabeth laughed, grabbing a personal size jar of classic chocolate and groaned, “Hurry up, Harry! I’m hungry!”
“I take my flavor choice very seriously, thank you very much!” He stuck his tongue out at her and grabbed a small tub of Magnum white chocolate vanilla.
They grabbed a box of plastic spoons on the way to the self check-out where only one other person was finishing their transaction. Harry stole Elizabeth’s ice cream out of her hands saying, “It’s on me,” and scanned it.
“What a gentleman,” Elizabeth smiled, pulling her freezing cold hands into the sleeves of the hoodie Harry lent her and looked around the store. “Uh, Harry? You need to hurry,” she urged, tapping his back. A girl, close in age, was staring over at them. Harry had looked up after inserting his credit card into the machine to see what Elizabeth was talking about, and when he did, the girl instantly recognized him and started walking towards them.
“Harry!” Elizabeth whined under her breath, “No human interaction, remember?”
“Shit!” he muttered, pressing buttons frantically. As soon as the transaction was complete he spouted, “Run!”, grabbing the bag in one hand and her wrist in the other, leaving the receipt behind.
The girl picked up her pace, but Harry and Elizabeth managed to make it to the car and hightail it out of there before she could catch up to them. They panted, trying to catch their breath before howling in laughter from the adrenaline. 
Elizabeth looked over at Harry, capturing the details of his face. His stubble was starting to grow out which somehow made the depth of his dimples even more noticeable. His lips were wet from his tongue and she could see smile lines which were prominent at the edge of his eyes and the corners of his lips making her wonder about all the things he’s been through in the past nine years to cause them. She saw the veins in his hands that gripped the steering wheel and gear shift, and the black paint that was starting to chip on his nails. 
His laughter started to settle, but when he looked over at her with his radiant smile Elizabeth twisted in her seat, realizing that it was happening. She was starting to fall for him again.
‘It’s fine,’ she thought to herself, ‘I liked him all throughout school without anything happening. I can do that again. I’ve got more restraint now.’
It took them a little longer to get back because Harry had gotten lost and they weren’t allowed to use their phones for directions, but they eventually got back on track and pulled into the driveway. Elizabeth recommended that they quarantine themselves in his room since Kate and Lewis eavesdropped on their last conversation they had in her room. Luckily the front door was still unlocked and they darted up the two flights of stairs to his room without being seen.
Harry tossed their bag of food onto his bed and they kicked off their shoes. Elizabeth looked around the room. His duffel bag was open on a chair in the corner of the room with some shirts hanging out. The bed was clearly slept in and she noticed his rings on top of the nightstand beside his bed next to a glass of water that was half full.  
“If you’re done snooping,” Harry smirked, patting the space beside him on the bed.
Elizabeth plopped on the bed next to him and sarcastically said, “Well I’m a bit disappointed that you didn’t light some candles and cover the room in rose petals for me, but you did buy me ice cream, so I guess it’ll do for now.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry laughed, “I’ll remember that for the next time I try to seduce you.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, smirked, and took a spoonful of her ice cream, “Mr. Styles, what makes you think you’ll get a second chance to seduce me?”
Harry smiled nervously at his pants, picking at a loose thread before looking up at her and saying, “I never did tell you that you looked beautiful at the wedding yesterday.”
Elizabeth’s chest fell to her stomach and she smiled sweetly at him, “Thank you, Harry.” She almost certainly started to blush.
The two talked a little bit longer, sharing spoonfuls of each other’s ice cream, enjoying more laughs together when Harry’s face suddenly turned serious.
“Uh...Lizzy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry, but I have to pee so bad!”
Elizabeth sighed with a slight giggle, “Oh, thank GOD! I’ve had to pee for the past hour!”
They both went into Harry’s bathroom and Elizabeth went first. Harry turned around as she pulled her pants down, noticing the pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to his shower.
“I bet this is the point where most of the people who get this dare start freaking out; because they don’t wanna have to pee around someone,” Elizabeth said, wiping and pulling her pants up.
“I don’t know,” Harry’s voice was muffled because he was facing the opposite direction, “I could listen to you pee all day.”
She flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet, kicking the back of Harry’s foot to signal that it was okay for him to turn around and playfully said, “You know, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Alright, you!” Harry warned, “turn around. If you want to see my penis you’ve gotta take me on a date first.”
Elizabeth laughed and turned around joking, “Is that not what we’re doing? My ice cream adventure wasn’t date-worthy enough for you?”
“No, I want candles and rose petals,” Harry mocked her.
“Well if that’s how you feel, just be grateful it wasn’t Daisy who was picked. She wouldn’t have even given you the chance to finish your ice cream,” Elizabeth joked. She heard him finish, flush, and start the faucet so she turned around and saw his serious expression.
“I’m glad it was you,” he said to her, lathering the soap in his hands.
Elizabeth blushed and they both walked into his room silently, taking a seat back on his bed. She could tell by his demeanor that something was bothering him.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
He hesitated, looking at the wall before turning to her, “Lizzy it’s been over 2 hours now. Are we really going to carry on pretending we didn’t just say those things down there?”
“What things?”
“....Everything!” Harry vexed, “How we both, you know, fantasized about each other. About how I told you that I liked you.”
“What about it?” Elizabeth asked, unsure of where this conversation could possibly go. What did he want? To talk out their fantasies about each other? That was nine years ago. “I don’t think much can come out of this conversation. We used to have crushes on each other at some point. Like you said, we were horny teenagers. What good does this information do now?”
“It wasn’t just at one point, Lizzy!” Harry protested, “It was throughout all of high school. Through both girlfriends I had, and all three of your boyfriends I liked you. You’re saying that we both liked each other and we could have been together that whole time? Does that not piss you off?”
Harry stared so deeply into her eyes that she was certain he could read her mind. Honestly, she had been thinking the same thing all night. And it hurt. But, again, that was in the past.
“Yeah, I know. It sucks!” Elizabeth frowned, “but that was then. It was so long ago. Who knows what would have happened if we dated? You might not be where you are right now.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Harry retorted, “but maybe I still would have, and we could have been where Kate and Lewis are right now!”
“Harry!” Elizabeth chuckled, with amused , “We would not have ended up married!”
Harry looked at her, irritation glowing in his eyes. ‘This is it,’ she thought. ‘The card is doing it’s thing. Maybe it really is cursed.’
KEEP READING
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letsperaltiago · 4 years
Text
because you’re the reason i go on
the post-”trying”, angsty, emotional, 6k+ oneshot no one asked for
or
Jake and Amy confront Camila Santiago about her judgemental ways at a Santiago-family event. 
They’d been sitting quietly on their couch one afternoon, one where they both happened to have the day off, for once allowing them to hang around the apartment with no specific or urgent to-dos on their minds. This resulted in Amy keeping herself busy on their shared laptop, taking up a corner of their couch with her legs stretched out and feet resting in her husband’s lap, whilst Jake himself played Mario Party – he’d never say it out loud, because, in the end, it didn’t matter when it was the for the sake of their possible future child, but he’d really missed playing  when the ‘way more scheduled’-Amy way had flipped their daily lives upside down.
It’d been a week, just barely, since they’d shared a disappointed glance at the sight of yet another, and for some time the last, pregnancy test in Amy’s hand. They both know a week wasn’t a long time meaning the aching in their hearts was perfectly normal. Just as well, giving them a sense of faith, the fact that they very much had each other to lean on and help manage the pain and frustration they still felt meant everything was, given the circumstances, fine.
Or at least it was until the updating of her inbox notified her of a new, very specific email which immediately caught her full attention.
As soon as the letters came together, quickly deciphered by her brain to form words with meaning, said meaning sent a dagger through her heart completely paralysing her. Even distracted by his video game he, Jake, could tell from the way the typing and clicking of the keyboard had so abruptly stopped that his wife had stopped amidst whatever she was doing.
“What’s up?” His eyes stayed glued to the tv where he was currently almost, and for once finally, beating Wario in the final lap of the game. Although that didn’t last for long since his wife’s obvious lack of reply, compared to Wario catching up to him during the final, crucial seconds, raised significantly greater awareness.  
“Ames?” he tried looking this time, quickly snapping his head in her direction as to not miss out on the game, only to be met by the blank, hopeless expression on her face and still body: Something was definitely wrong.
“Hey,” this time he rushed to put down the controller, not caring about whether or not Wario would beat him again and instead using his newly freed hands to caringly rub her knee as he scooted in closer. “Amy, babe, what happened? Are you okay?”
Her empty expression, still staring blankly at the laptop screen, stayed stuck for another few beats before a small, single, torturously slow tear rolled down her cheek. This of course immediately alerted Jake even more.
“Amy,” he desperately tried to snap her out of it with a pleading, although remaining calm, voice whilst squeezing her knee as if she somehow, maybe, had forgotten he was there with her.
That’s when she finally resurfaced, turning her face to look directly at him only to reveal that there were matching tears rolling down her other, before out of sight to him, cheek. Although the last few months had been hard and had taken its toll on them both, especially her, Amy had seemed fine once they’d settled on not thinking about babies for a while: They both slept significantly better, reverted to their enjoyment of what was their usual regularities and, all in all, everything seemed back to the way things were.
So this sudden eruption of sadness from his wife, when just 30 minutes ago they’d joked around talking about what take-out, something they’d missed dearly during their trying-times, they should treat themselves with for dinner that night, worried Jake a lot.
“It’s-” she finally broke her muteness, then once again briefly pausing in silence to catch her breath like she’d been holding it. “Tony and Elena.”
Her husband’s brows furrowed with worry. He couldn’t tell what exactly she meant, which he hated, but it had struck her like lighting from a clear sky so it obviously had to be a great, sorrowful deal to her.
“What happened? Are they okay?”
With Amy’s huge family it was sometimes hard to keep track of every single member, but Jake had gotten pretty familiar with all of the Santiago-brothers and took, especially, great liking to the second oldest Tony.
“Y-yeah, they’re fine but they’re-“ her voice’s transition into whimpering interrupted her as she tried to hold back incoming tears alas quickly failing to do so.
“Jake, I’m such a horrible person for reacting like this,” her whimpering evolved further into small heaving sobs prompting Jake to, gently as to not further upset her, take the laptop away from her to get a look at whatever had triggered such reaction. His eyes wandered across the screen for a brief moment before his frame froze the same exact way her’s had just minutes earlier.
‘SURPRISE! JOIN US IN CELEBRATING ANOTHER FUTURE SANTIAGO’, wide and bold, screamed from the subject line of what was indeed and very clearly an email-invite to Elena and Tony Santiago’s baby reveal + shower.
A heavy sigh along with a defeated drop of Jake’s shoulders complied with the so happy yet so distressing nature of the news.
“Oh, babe…” he’d put the laptop away in order to be able to move freely before moving in to engulf his wife in the tightest hug possible allowing her to cry her sadness out into the crook of his neck, a spot which had grown to be her safe place, where she’d automatically buried her face the moment he pulled her sideways into his lap.
In Jake’s ears, not only as her husband but also being her best friend, any cry, even the smallest sniffle, from Amy Santiago was absolutely heartrending and a perfect world would be one where his wife was never hurt, angered or confused enough to need to utter these kind of sounds. In this perfect world there would be constant peace in her mind, a smile on her face and, goddamn, he wished more than anything else, a baby in her belly.
His hand, which had automatically tightened around her figure, started rubbing soothing circles between her heaving shoulder blade, the other pushing her beautiful raven locks of hair away from her face. There, to the newly exposed forehead, all while saying nothing thus giving her the needed space to cry it out all while wrapping her up in a safe presence of his own, he pressed a tender kiss. Quite a few years spent together with her had led to a lot more of maturing on his part. Suddenly he saw, understood even, a lot of the matters and issues from her perspective, one he’d before called the one of an ‘old cat-lady’. Jake had learned a lot from Amy, which he was especially thankful for during these kind of scenarios where he needed her. He took pride in being needed by Amy Santiago; thus he had to do it right.
This also meant that sometimes it was better to say nothing at all. “Silence is just as powerful as words” was one of the things she’d had taught him, so as long as he got to sit with her, letting her know that he was there for her, Jake could feel calm and confident about not interrupting her crying.
It was not too long after when the sobs, shaking and shock slowly wore off and silence engulfed the two wrapped up figures.
“Hey,” he spoke softly. Silence was the only reply he got but he was okay with that. The necessity of a reply wasn’t there; her attention was enough and he knew he had it. Meanwhile his neck had craned in an attempt to get the best possible look at her face where it was still resting into the soft curve of his neck. The tiniest shuffle of her shoulder as she readjusted in his lap confirmed that she indeed listening.
“You don’t have to do anything you genuinely don’t want to do. You know that right?”
It was all she could give for now, which was okay, Jake thought, when he felt the nodding movement of her head against his neck.
“Okay good,” he paused thinking for a brief second before resolving on leaving a feathery stroke to her forehead with the length of his nose, his lips automatically taking over afterwards in one swift movement.
“We don’t have to go if you’re not genuinely feeling up for it. We can just say we both have work that day.”
Beneath where his hands were continuously drawing lazy circles on her upper back Jake could tell she was thinking – hard. Then suddenly her face was no longer hiding in his soft skin, instead she rose to an upright position although remained put in his lap. With red eyes, a version of his favorite pair of eyes he hated to witness, she looked at him.
“I just...” She sniffed in the process of wiping tears off her face with the back of the hand that wasn’t keeping her stable with a hold on her husband’s firm shoulder. “If I choose not to go then it means I’m letting this deterring situation get the best of me, and I just-“
As if he hadn’t already been aching for his wife and feeling utterly frustrated by the feeling that came along with it being way beyond his control, her voice, once again, started to quake, slowly and torturously breaking Jake’s heart like a disk on repeat. The following words made it out in-between tiny sobs and heaving halts from trying to hold them back.
“I can’t let it control me, Jake. I don’t want to it to define me more than it already has.”
It. Two letters: one word… The one, little word substituting for whatever force was keeping them from becoming pregnant contained so much pain. He cupped her face in his hands trying to fight her tears by wiping them away but alas; every time he had, new ones just dropped right in the exact same spot.
“Shhh,” he whispered pulling her back into his chest with the strong urge, and the only way he could think of to protect her from what, lately, had been the very cruel and unfair world around them. He didn’t say anything else right away once again  leaving her space to continue speaking if she wished to, but all that came out of her and into his neck were small whimpers.
“It doesn’t define you, Ames. You’re bigger than this and it doesn’t change who you are. And for every single ‘me’ you say, you have to remember that I’m right here in this with you. Whatever has happened and whatever will happen is something we’re in together.”
Shuffling against his neck followed by the tingling sensation of her warm lips against the skin let him know that what he’d said had struck the right chord.
“Thank you,” she croaked.
“No, thank you for being so incredible. And if you want to go then we will and if you don’t, then that’s alright too and we just won’t. No bigger deal than that, okay?”
He looked down to be met by a rush of relief; a tiny faint smile was once again present on her face.
“Okay.”
***
Thus it resulted in Jake and Amy, together as the unit they were, deciding to disregard what the pain was telling them to do and instead just go. A few days after their talk that afternoon, the emotional knockout upon receiving the email, Amy had looked herself in the mirror one evening and agreed with herself: no, this shouldn’t define her and therefor she wouldn’t let it.
But even then, on the morning of the baby shower, Amy caught herself feeling overwhelmed, emotions stronger than anticipated even though she was still circling around the will to admit. Slow and unconsciously, allowing her no fighting chance to prevent it, a train of pestering thoughts infested her mind. Looking at her reflection in the mirror feeling ready and put together, pretty even, wearing simple makeup and one of her staple floral dresses, she suddenly hated how she wished the skirt of it was draped over a round belly, one with a baby in it, rather than her usual curves.
In the midst of this staring contest from hell with her own reflection there was suddenly the sudden urge to break down all over again; give up and go back to bed like a way more manageable alternative to smiling and pretending to be okay around people who’d so easily accessed what she was dying to have. In the very same instance her jaw locked in an attempt to hold back a whimper, when her eyes blinked obsessively to wipe away incoming tears forming in the sockets, her husband, thankfully, appeared behind her in the reflection she suddenly hated so much.
“Is my favorite incredible, beautiful wife ready to go?” He wrapped his arms around her middle like it was the most right thing in the world instantly making her forget that, just a second, she’d hate that specific area of her body.
Amy could feel her jaw unclench and the tears stand down from their position on the verge to falling the minute the sound and feeling of Jake engulfed her. This was without a doubt what saved her from breaking down right then and there.
“As ready as she’ll ever be,” she sighed with a small smile looking at him in the mirror.
He nodded, understanding.
“Good. And remember: if it becomes too much, or you’re just not feeling it, then let me know. We’ll be out of there before you can say ‘Pierogis, potato pancakes and hot chocolate’.”
This turned out to be an excellent example of exactly why she needed Jake Peralta: a chuckle danced off her lips as it was indeed close to, if not entirely, impossible not to be charmed by his small jokes and overall sweetness. She then turned around hitting him with the kind of smile she knew he was always yearning for like she did for his.
“Thank you, I will,” she placed a hand to his cheek to stroke it in a small act of gratitude. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Ames. So much,” he quickly pecked her lips before sending her a tender smile.
“And I wish I could continue to stand around all day to tell you that over and over again, but I really don’t feel like being on the receiving end of that judgmental look your mom always gives me if we are more than 10 seconds late.”
Once again her point was proven: it was impossible to hold back a smile and chuckle around him.  
“That’s fair. Let’s go.”
They untangled only to lock hands on their way to the car. The 30-minute drive to Tony and Elena’s house was comfortable considering where they were headed to and how nervous Amy had felt right before leaving the house.
To her defense, with Jake’s right hand on her thigh rubbing small circles with his thumb, accompanied by their favorite jams and loud, horrible but nonetheless enjoyable singing, Amy actually forgot why she was feeling anxious about the day’s event in the first place. This especially when Jake performed ‘My Heart Will Go On’ in such a cheesy and overdramatic way, right to the point where it was almost too much since he chose to direct every word at her whilst, of course, still focusing on the road ahead. Luckily there were quite a few red lights along the trip for him to safely twist his body and directly serenade her with his Celine Dion-impression which successfully earned him loud affectionate laughter.
The mood was set and they were both ready to take on whatever the previously half-dreaded baby shower would turn out to hit them with: good or bad. Although, when they knocked on the front door Jake felt Amy shuffle nervously. Wanting to put out the fire of anxiety he could tell was sparking within her, he quickly grabbed his wife’s hand to give it a small, affectionate squeeze, telling her he was right there. They’d agreed on this and he’d do anything within his power to take sure: the baby shower would be okay.
And it had been okay.
It had been okay to see Elena glow with her growing, round belly. It had been okay to be surrounded by colorful balloons, cupcakes and presents. It had been okay to congratulate her brother and his wife, genuinely meaning it from the bottom of her heart. It had been okay.
Until it hadn’t been.
All the guests, which included eight Santiago-siblings with respective partners plus the future grandparents and a couple of Tony and Elena’s closest friends, were all spread throughout the living room in the suburban home. It had been a couple of hours of mingling, opening gifts and snacking on color-coordinated goods, and although one of them would occasionally stray off or get pulled aside by a familiar face, Jake and Amy mostly stuck together and admired the buzzing brunch-party from a safe distance. This when they weren’t catching up with Amy’s siblings or giving Tony a helping hand with small tasks so that he could enjoy the festivities alongside his wife.
Everything was going smoothly making Amy consider how she’d completely blown the entire thing out of proportions before coming. In retrospect she could see how it had been silly and a waste of her own energy to be so scared of feeling like the odd one out on a day that was Tony and Elena’s day. No one would actually care about her lack of a growing baby-bump when they were here to celebrate someone else’s.
Or that’s what she’d thought.
“Amy, ” Elena’s mother had called out sending them a warm accommodating smile as she snaked her way through the crowd to where they were currently resting on the couch while enjoying some kind of sweet sparkling wine.
“Hello, Mrs. Cardea,” Amy greeted politely as she got back on her feet to hug the slightly familiar face. Tony and Elena had been together for quite a while, even before getting married 3 years prior, which meant Elena’s mother was no stranger. On the other hand it’d been a while since Amy had last seen her, which meant the introduction and use of last name was more out of politeness and routine than anything else.
“It’s nice to see you again, dear. It’s a luck that I frequent your mother quite a bit so that she can let me know how you’re doing.”  
“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Amy returned the sweet sentiment of the older woman’s remark. Beside her she could feel Jake follow her lead standing up and reaching out to shake the newcomers hand.
“Hi, Mrs. Cardea. I’m Jake Peralta.” He paired the greeting with his best polite smile.
“Oh,” the older woman’s eyes widened. “So you’re the famous boyfriend of the only Santiago-girl? ”
The couple let out a collective chuckle exchanging tiny, secret smiles in reaction to the unintentional mislabeling.
“Husband, actually,” Jake grinned proudly raising his hand to show off the silver-band which, with two years of marriage and an even older love, felt like natural, extended part of his body.
As if the revelation had come out of nowhere, which puzzled Amy since her mother must’ve mentioned their marriage to Mrs. Cardea at some point, if they spoke regularly, like the woman claimed, Mrs. Cardea’s smile transitioned into a lightly confused gape.
“My oh my,” Mrs. Cardea seemed to be at a loss of words but quickly picked herself back up and within seconds the smile, warm and genuine, was back. But even then Amy could tell something was off.  “I can’t believe Camila didn’t tell me. Must’ve slipped her mind.”
The wedding of her only daughter slipped her mind? Amy hoped to God Elena’s mom was right, a feeling of anger slowly coming to a simmer inside of her. Although she couldn’t let people around her know, she had the strong urge to storm of to talk to her mom or pull Jake aside to rant, but for now she bit her lip and put on a brave, now very forged smile.
“Yeah…” Amy tried to give the off-roading conversation a nudge back on track which Jake quickly picked up on, prompting him to reassuringly grab her hand. “… I’m sure she just forgot.”
“I’m sure it’s a mouthful with so many kids to keep track of,” Mrs. Cardea cackled obviously not picking up on the iffy mood surrounding the topic.
Then the feared, for a while forgotten, bomb was dropped.
“Speaking of kids, especially now that I know that you’re married: when are you going to give this fine young husband of yours his first child?”
First of all Amy hated how she made it sound like she would be making Jake a favor by falling pregnant. Secondly, if Amy thought she’d already gone through the peak of the pain from what they were going through at the moment, then she was dead wrong. Right then and there, being slapped across the face with those words, Amy felt her heart completely fall apart. More frustrating than not being physically able to make a child was being reminded of it by a, basically, stranger who knew nothing of what they were going through within the four walls of their home.
Beside her, out of the corner of her eye, there was no doubt that Jake had flinched along with her, evidently clenching his jaw in order to suppress a biting reply. If it hadn’t been for the crowd around them she would’ve collapsed in anger and tears, meanwhile he would’ve definitely snapped at the poor Mrs. Cardea.  
“We’re just getting settled into married life and we’re in no rush. It’ll happen when it happens.”
To Amy’s relief  Jake did his best, as always, to stay calm and advert the situation in favor of them both. He squeezed her hand, firmly believing what he said even though it also happened to be a half, tiny white lie since now was no time nor place to tell a stranger that ‘Well we’ve been trying for the past eight months, hopelessly and with every trick in the book, but nothing seems to work so right now we’re kind of just trying to get through the pain of quite possible not being able to conceive.’
Even though Jake, Amy included, thought he’d adverted the situation nicely apparently Mrs. Cardea saw this from a completely different perspective. The older woman’s before sweet smile faltered to one of a rather skeptical nature, implicitly telling the couple that this was not what she’d expected to hear.
“Well…” the older woman recomposed herself to speak even though all Jake and Amy wished for was to get away from the conversation and the radical road it was currently being forced down. Amy knew her family was one of old traditions, and even though she’d learned to deal with it and, to some extent, respect it, she in no way wished for her and Jake to take part in it. They were their own family.
“Just make sure to not wait around for too long, Amy. I mean, compared to your brothers, it has already taken you quite some time to evem get married: you wouldn’t want to risk waiting for, well, too long, to make a baby.”
Amy thought she’d just barely survived the worst but now, this, was the equivalent of an emotional apocalypse slowly shutting her entire being and will to do, try, speak, anything, down. Her surroundings seemed to darken letting her know it was only a matter of crucial moments before she’d be shut down completely and beyond social criterion. The simultaneous ache in her head, her heart, her entire body actually, was too overwhelming to ignore anymore.
“I’m-“ she barely managed to utter whilst staring into nothing because it was better than to look at anything in this room that reminded her of what she for some ungodly reason couldn’t have. “You’ll have to excuse me.”
With the blunt announcement that she was leaving, not even caring about what Elena’s mom thought of her sudden switch, Amy detangled her hand from Jake’s in order to rush away to wherever she could turn into a decent hiding place. For the next few hours or perhaps forever. Suddenly, like an epiphany, all she could seem to think about was getting out of the house and lock herself inside their car. There, at least, there was no risk getting found since, apparently, no one knew she was married and, even less, had a champagne-colored midsized Sedan. It was bulletproof.
Or, it was, right up until life seemed to have other plans for her, because getting to the car turned out to mean ‘going through the kitchen’ and ‘going through the kitchen’ meant ‘stumbling into her mother’, who then was about to reprimand her for not paying attention to where she was going. the sight of tears streaming down her daughter’s face caused her to halt though.
“What’s wrong, mija?”
Wrong. The word haunted her: she, Amy Santiago, was wrong: her body was wrong, biology was wrong, giving up was wrong, continuing to try was wrong, all in all everything was wrong. It had to be when something she wanted more than anything else in the world seemingly wasn’t meant to be hers. However, her mother, the one person in her life who was, more than anyone else, supposed to make her feel right? She made her feel, if possible, even more faulty.
Seconds prior to the colliding all she had been able to think about was getting the hell out of the house. But now, seeing her mother, triggered something angry, spiteful even, within her, setting free all the words and thoughts her brain, unknowing to Amy herself, had formed.
“What’s wrong, you ask?” Amy heaved with broken, wet eyes shooting daggers. Her brain short-circuited making Amy unsure of exactly what had been said past this point. “You’ve kept my marriage a secret because you’re embarrassed.”
“What are you talking about? Why would I be embarrassed?”
“Because your only daughter, the only chance for you to experience ‘your little girl becoming a mother’, has been married for two years,” she over-articulated the last two words as emphasis. “And she still hasn’t had a child of her own, and to make matters even worse? She’s not even pregnant. That’s, apparently, embarrassing.”
Amy felt a figure rush up behind alas the heat of the moment resulted in her not even caring one bit. Tears were impairing her sight and all she had to get through was another few points – then she could leave.
“Ames, honey,” the figure behind her was Jake gently mumbling into her ear, carefully, as to not startle her before placing his hands on her waist. “We can go if you want to.”
He could tell his mother-in-law looked rather pale, more tight-lipped than usual, but had yet to put two and two together. That was until Amy spoke up again, chest heaving with all the sadness and sobs she was fighting so hard to repress.
“I’m not embarrassed, Amy,” her mother spoke to her own defense, of course paired with the look of pity, a look Amy hated.  “I just don’t understand why you and Jake want to wait so long? Why is it that you must do things differently than everyone else just to prove a point?”  
Not only did this strike Amy twice as hard as anything else that’d been said that day; this time Jake was not only aching for his wife but also for himself. This was bigger and more personal than Camila Santiago having high expectations for her kids, wanting them to shine and succeed at everything. No, this time it was wholly inequitable discrimination of her daughter’s way of living her life, included Jake and the things she struggled with when no one else was looking.
This was also drawing a line; the very last straw.
Jake broke in, stepped out from behind Amy to instead take a protective stand in front of her. It was no secret that Jake was terrified of his mother-in-law but if there was something which could make him not give that the tiniest care in the world, then it was the second she dismissed Amy they way she just had.
“First of all, with all due respect, Camila, you have no right to deprecate the things Amy, neither the things Amy and I, do and do not chose to do. It’s her life and while you’re her mother, which is just one of many good reasons why you should support her unconditionally, you have no right to talk her down the way you are right now.”
Angry was not a word Jake was very familiar with but by now his regular voice had definitely transitioned into a defensive scowl, eyes shadowed by anger and jaw clenched whenever he wasn’t speaking: he was not about to let another one of Mrs. Santiago’s jab at his wife slip by – especially now that it concerned such a delicate matter.
“All Amy wants is to please you, but you never actually take the time to acknowledge anything she does and at some point, which I strongly believe is now, it has to stop. You can’t reprimand her like she’s a little child living a life as if it was an open, always accessible book to you. You don’t know half the things she does and goes through: you take no interest in hearing about or understanding the bad, the hard, the frustrating… And the incredible things she does? You ignorantly dismiss them. She has no chance of winning with you.”
Jake was almost chuffing from lack of air caused by combination of exuding anger and the fast talking. He too was now getting emotional feeling the weight of the past months pushing down on him. Leading up to today’s events he’d remained extra strong and supportive for Amy but, truth be told, he was hurting just as much as she was.
“As a matter of fact, if you must know, Amy and I have been trying for a baby for quite some time now… And it’s been very,” he paused to swallow and compose himself before continuing, ”hard.”
A lump started to form in his throat, obviously affecting the pitch of his voice quickly prompting Amy to grab his right hand with both of hers from where she was still shielded behind him. Before him, when she finally seemed to understand what Jake was really telling her, he could clearly tell how Camila’s expression changed from cold, probably annoyed by her daughter’s “rowdy husband” meddling, to shocked and actually showing emotions.
“Oh, mija,” she looked past Jake to get a hold of her daughter’s hiding eyes. “I had no idea. You should’ve told me… It doesn’t have to mean that you can’t have a baby. There’s probably just something you’re doing wrong, and I-“
“No,” once again Jake was quick to interrupt her, the word bursting out his mouth out as a snarl, before she could finish the sentence.
“Amy’s been doing everything perfectly right, and even beyond, so you don’t get to tell her otherwise.”
Silence enveloped the entire kitchen whilst the life of the party buzzed in the background.  
Camila stood frozen in the very same spot she’d been caught in for the past few minutes. Here, after what felt like a lifetime, Jake made up his mind and decided that there was nothing else to say. Getting the hell out of there to take care of his wife was of higher priority than waste time, hopelessly and with no gain, trying to talk Camila to her senses.
He turned around to look his wife directly in the eyes, searching for some kind of sign that would tell him that what he’d just done was okay – it was Amy’s mother, after all.
And although tears were still washing down her face Amy also couldn’t help but send him a small affirmative nod. If she hadn’t been too busy crying she’d tell him that, once again, him acting by instinct had paid off.
“I want to go home,” she whispered.
He took another good look at her to make sure that she was okay for now, then quickly replied with a whisper telling her “Of course. Let’s go,” before leading her away and out of the house by the hand. Once he’d gotten her settled in the car Jake ran back to grab their coats, in the meantime also coming up with an excuse to Tony and Elena about Amy being sick thus having to leave. Jake was unsure of whether or not either hosts had overheard the fight but nonetheless they both nodded understandingly, thanking Jake and Amy for the gift and for coming.
So yes, the baby shower had been okay until it hadn’t been.
***
In contrast to the ride to the party, the ride back home was very quiet with minimal to no words spoken. Amy knew she could speak up, if she wished to, but then the act of staring out the window, watching the city grow thicker and thicker by the mile, simply seemed more manageable. Once in a while Jake would throw a glance in her direction to make sure she was somewhat okay while also keeping in mind that the urge to get home and hold her didn’t cause him to drive irresponsibly.
Immediately upon arriving back home, the minute the door closed behind them trapping them in their own little cocoon, Amy carelessly, and very unusually, Jake couldn’t help but notice, kicked of her shoe before heading in the direction of their bedroom. Although Jake was fast, managing to grab her wrist before tugging her back to wrap her up in his arms.  This, hopefully, would prompt her to react however she needed to.
And indeed, the moment she was tugged into him and her face could hide from the world in the crook beneath his neck, she did. The heaving movement of her shoulders came first, then the muffled sobs.
Jake, knowing that the silence on the way back home was both of them fighting a war within themselves with only a of question of not if but when they’d burst at the seams, could only hold her as tight as physically possible whilst rocking her back and forth as his own eyes started to prick.
During his life time Jake Peralta had undergone many kinds of pain: anything from, compared to this moment, that is, stupid bagatelles like watching the woman he was pining for be with someone else to being wrongfully accused and sent to prison, where he lived a daily life in a constant state a fear. Nonetheless it was still crystal clear that nothing, not by a longshot, had ever been able to tear him to shreds like seeing his wife suffer from something so out of his, or anyone’s, control.
“I wish I could take your pain away,” he mumbled into the top of her head, his voice tearful and heavy from despair.
Another sob, this time smaller, escaped her body before the next sound he could hear was her taking a deep breath.
“I know,” she sniffled as her shoulder rose in fighting another incoming cry in the meantime also allowing her lungs to stock up on just enough fresh air. Then silence. The quietness, the silence after the storm, that came after felt post-apocalyptic, when in reality they were in the eye of the hurricane: in the clear but surrounded by chaos.
But perhaps that was good enough for now.
 “…And I yours, Jake. God, I wished.”
“I know,” he smiled, through tears, into her hair before burying his face in it. Nothing felt safer than her – even during her darkest hours. In the end he felt reassured as long as she was there by his side and he by hers.
“But one day at a time,” he sniffled peaking tears away. “Okay?”
He felt her untuck from his neck, her safe spot, in order to look at him properly for the first time since they left Tony’s house. As expected her eyes were bloodshot, exhausted and red, although there was also a tiny twitch, something hinting at a smile, of the corner of her lips that implicitly accepted Jake’s statement.
“Okay,” she nodded.
“I love you, Ames,” he tipped his head down evening out their height difference in order to press his forehead to hears. “And I’m so stupidly in love with you.”
Finally, this was what it took, a full smile broke out on her lips; a smile which Jake Peralta wasted no second reciprocating. It didn’t matter that the affectionate chuckle sliding off her lips was half-teary from the intense crying nor that her cheeks were still very much damp and puffy; Amy Santiago was wholeheartedly chuckling and this Jake Peralta had been dying to witness.
“And I know things aren’t turning out how we had hoped, at least not right now, but…” His fingers calmly, almost unconsciously,  slid down to stroke her waist, his forehead still leaning against hers.
“… I’m never going to stop loving or being in love with you, Amy Santiago, so there’s no need to worry. We’ve got time… Time to hurt, time to laugh, time to fall down and then get back up again. It doesn’t feel like it now, which is so very okay… ” he pulled back to look right into her eyes, making sure to emphasize his point, “… But in the end, we’re going to be the ones in control of our lives: Not biology, not your mom, not anyone or anything else. If we want a child then that’s what we’ll have - one way or the other, I promise you.”
Tears were once more forming in her eyes although this time, to his relief, it appeared to be tears of joy rather than sadness. Being sad suddenly seemed so distant, so irrelevant, when she had a husband who loved her that much.
“And, like I said and will continue to say for as long as you need to hear it: we don’t have to think about a final solution now.”
On one hand she wanted to say something, express and return the incredible amount of love he always provided, yet, on the other hand, the need to grab his face and pull him into the deepest kiss possible was stronger. This, by all means, resulted in Amy doing exactly so. Of course Jake responded to the gesture so naturally thus allowing his hands to freely roam her entire body, up, down and around. There was no stopping them. He loved her and she loved him. This she’d whisper, whimper, whine and moan into his ear, neck, lips and chest, multiple times in the course of the day’s final hours as they stumbled across the floor, through the doors of their apartment without a single care about the outside world.
That night, intertwined, showering each other with love and chasing away the remnants of despair, nothing else seemed of great, grave nor grievous importance. Maybe, yes, the hurting wasn’t entirely behind them yet, but even so, something about hurting for love and the life they wanted to build together seemed to make that fact acceptable. Hurting also meant they were fighting, ultimately meaning that they weren’t giving up.
Hurting was hard, but also important for the process, and doing it together, thankfully, did the difference between unbearable and acceptable.  
Life was unpredictable, not everything was in their control, but, as long as they were with the right people, they could handle anything. And they were, since the very first day, stuck across from each other as bickering partners at the Nine-Nine, the right people for each other.
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mymelodyheart · 3 years
Text
Starting Over Chapter 22 ~The Tale of the Night Part One~
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  
Claire's heart started to beat a little faster as their hired Bentley slowly inched closer to the Hilton Hotel Glasgow. They were following a long line of fancy cars waiting for their turn to pull up, step out and parade themselves. She felt Jamie's gentle squeeze on her hand, but it didn't help quash the feeling of apprehension. She'd promised Jamie to stand by him but seeing the throngs of excited fans and reporters behind the installed barriers, made her want to curl up in a fetal position and not leave the car.
"Sassenach, are ye alright?"
Huh?  She turned and looked at him and saw the worried lines etched on his face. She gave him a feeble smile. "I'm fine," she lied, trying to convince herself as well as him. "I know events like this draw crowds ... it's just that I didn't realise it would be as crazy as this. I-it's one thing seeing it on TV or pictures, but this ..." She leans forward and waves a hand, the frenzy screams and shouts, giving her jitters. "There's a bloody mob out there. It's insane!"
Jamie gently drew her sideways against him, tucking her in under his arm. "Some people from the movie industry will be there too, that's why. Events like this like to invite big names to attract the media. And Prince Harry will be making an appearance as well, most probably to promote the Invictus Games."
"Invictus wot?" she asked absentmindedly, her attention fixated on the excited crowd outside.
"It's a paralympic-style sporting event for injured military servicemen and women. It's a foundation launched by Prince Harry," he explained, following her gaze.
Only half-listening, Claire closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally, focusing on Jamie's hand on her arms. It helped a bit to soothe her nerves. For a split second of weakness, she thought of suggesting to let her slip into the back entrance and meet him inside the hotel lobby after his pap-walk but remembered her promise to stand by him tonight and dropped the idea. "Does this get any easier for you?" Claire asked, glad for the darkened windows that hid them from the flashing camera lights.
"What? This?" He puffed out his cheeks and blew out air. "No. The public looks like the giant scary monster, but truthfully, I dinnae mind the fans. The problem is the media. The media isnae journalism as ye know it anymore. They turn everything into a bloody circus show."
She shuddered, remembering her indirect first-hand experience with the reporters and how they've made her looked like the cheating fiancée and Frank, the virtuous, pillar of the society, who could do no wrong. "Tell me about it," she whispered.
"Stations and news will gobble up anything - the more sensational the story, the better, anything for the ratings. Ratings are everything. Ratings mean money and lots of it. Perhaps it really is just a matter of time before they're funding the nefarious for the consumption of the people. There's nae more moral compass, only the most immoral become the victors in this industry, and so on. Morality is for losers, winners are the ones who "pushed the envelope." He looked at her, and she didn't miss the subtle change in his demeanour. "As I told ye before, the tabloids will feed the public some shite by publishing pictures, and when it's captured at a right angle, it could be taken in any context ye want. The news' outlets delight on that because the fans can make up their own stories and they write articles based on their speculations."
"Has it ever happened to you?"
"What? Speculations? Aye. Many times. With my reputation, I'm fodder for other celebrities' publicist, especially when movies or projects need to be promoted. I tend to get used for that end. I'm not saying my reputation was a made-up lie. I'm not proud of it, but I own my shit. The problem with this industry is when ye want to use their platform or be part of it, be prepared to whore yersel' literally or figuratively." He lets out a short laugh. "Thanks to them and the publicity stunts, I've increased my followings on social media, which of course, opened other avenues such us modelling for big-name products even if I've never done that line of work before. The upside - it made me loads of money."
"So, you reckon the network will want something from you?"
"Aye, most probably. But ye'll have yer say in it, Sassenach. This is nae longer just about me," Jamie's mouth pressed into a determined line. "This concerns ye too."
"But, this job means the world to ye, Jamie."
He twisted around to face her, and his hand stroke her cheek. "Dreams and priorities change over time, Sassenach. Ye come first now because I'll need someone who will hold on to my soul in that crazy world out there. But I'm warning ye. If ye agree to let me take on the job, there'll be a lot of things ye'll not like and perhaps disappointments. Whatever happens tonight, I'll need ye to trust me in this. Ye dae trust me, aye?"
Claire squeezed his hand. "Yes, of course, I trust you." She nervously glanced through the windshield and saw there was only one car left in front of them before it was their turn to get off. "I meant to go over things with you, Jamie. What do you need from me out there?"
His face softened. "Just be yourself and smile. Ye dinnae need to answer questions from the press if ye dinnae feel like it. If ye do though, dinnae reveal anything personal and give them an arsenal for future use." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "And thank ye for being here with me. It means a lot."
She nodded and smiled weakly, still dazed from the surreality of the upcoming moment when they would step out as a couple. It was quite apparent they were both not looking forward to going out there, and for Claire, it was one hell of a circus show to go through just for a presenting job.
"Ye sure ye'll be okay?" Jamie asked. "There's still time to turn around if ye wish. There'll be nae hiding once we step out." His tone was guarded and tinged with concern. "I ken I asked ye to stand by me. But I can go out there by myself, present the award, listen to what the network has to say and if I dinnae like it, I'll leave, and we can enjoy Glasgow for the rest of the evening."
The suggestion was too tempting, and it would be an easy way out. But Jamie could lose out on his dream job because he would choose her. She didn't want that. Claire turned and saw him looking at her thoughtfully, earnestly waiting for an answer, as the ghost of past heartache resurrected in her head. When James Fraser loved, it was scary. The man put his entire heart out with the expectation that it would be crushed. Sometimes she worried at the way he looked at her and at the way she felt for him. It seemed too precious and too rare to explore knowing if it didn't work out between them, the heartache would be greater. If she ever lost this man, she would never recover. If he ever lost her, she feared for the man that he would become. She could only hope that their relationship would survive Jamie's new career.
Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, she gave him her best smile and summoned the courage. If he's willing to sacrifice his dreams, she was prepared to at least try and take this on too before he gave it up altogether. "Hey I'm a big girl, remember. I can tough this one out," she whispered, attempting to sound cheerful.
His handsome face lit up. Grinning, he leaned in for a final kiss before grabbing the handle of the car's door. "Weel, let's do this then, Sassenach.".
..........
Ah, bloody hell, here goes nothing!  
Claire inhaled deeply and took Jamie's hand as she stepped out of the car. She felt like entering into another realm as she was greeted by frantic screaming, knowing it had more to do with Jamie's appearance than her stepping out. It was very loud, more than she'd imagined it would be with a crowd such as this, and the deafening noise was reinforced more by all the shouting, cheering, camera flashes, instructions yelled out by photographers at celebrities, and security and ushers barking orders.
"Jamie! Jamie!"
"We love ye, Jamie!"
"Jamie, please sign this!
"Jamie! This way, please!
"Jamieee, selfie please."
Jamie's hand tightened and tugged her forward, her eyes blinking and squinting against the flashing of bulbs and set of lights beaming down on them. He leaned down to say something, but she couldn't hear over the screams of hysterical fans. Although she'd been a fan of Jamie for years, she couldn't understand the over-the-top hero-worship and grown women shrieking whenever Jamie smiled, winked or waved. People crying and all these hysteria for a retired rugby player was simply just beyond her.  Heaven forbid Jamie ends up becoming an actor. Unbelievable!
Jamie led her to the top end where the broadcast outlets were, namely BBC, ITV as well as UKSC, the network Jamie might one day work for. He subtly reminded her when to stop and where to look as the photographers furiously took their pictures. His eyes were on her the whole time, a knowing upturn tugging his lips and his hand always pulling her against him. He kissed her for the cameras as if it was his way of announcing she was his, and although Jamie ignored requests from the journalists to introduce her, she obliged them, despite herself, by smiling for their lenses instead. Claire was surprised not one of the photographers had recognised her as the infamous  Runaway Bride . She hoped her unknown status would remain for the rest of the evening, but she knew reporters were like a dog with a bone and it was only a matter of time before they caught on.
"Hey, Jamie, who's the pretty lady with ye?"
"Can we have a name, please?"
"The dress is gorgeous. Who designed it?"
"Jamie, a quick interview, please?"
"Sorry ye lot, time for us to go in," he deflected, pretending to look disheartened while putting one hand dramatically over his chest and another, tugging her elbow and leading her away from the crowd and into the double doors of the hotel. 
What a charmer!   Despite Jamie loathing the media, he had a way with the reporters, whether they were women or men. Not once he showed a hint of annoyance even if she could feel it pulsing from his aura. He was evasive when people asked questions but somehow managed to get away with it with a smile or a wink, lending them a sense of mystery. Maybe Jamie was born for this. He did everything with ease and was full of self-confidence in front of the watchful eyes of the public. Whereas, her, she felt like she was caught up in a current, whirled and tossed in every direction. Her face hurt from endless smiling, hand numbed from Jamie's constant hard grip and her feet already throbbed from the ridiculously high stilettos. She hoped Jamie's charms would be enough to tide her over when the media finally finds out who she was.
One hurdle down, a million more to go!  Once they made it through the hotel's lobby, her first thought was to grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, but Jamie kept walking and steered her through groups of people, nodding and acknowledging with a smile those who glance their way. 
"It wasnae so bad, was it?" Jamie murmured against her ear as they positioned themselves at the least populous area of the lobby. "Ye look so beautiful tonight, and everyone thinks so too. Ye've captivated the press and the fans." He took a couple of champagne from a passing blonde waitress who was beaming up at him, but he didn't notice the awed gaze.
"Captivated? More like inquisitive," she replied, taking a huge gulp from the bubbly Jamie gave her and scanning the crowd. "The press is probably running my picture through some facial recognition software as we speak. I hope with the amount of makeup Geillis plied on my face, they'll fail at their attempt."
"That's not how facial recognition software work, Sassenach. The app distinguishes a person based on the person's features and shape."
"I was afraid you were going to say that. Let's just hope the software they're using is crap or dated."
Jamie laughed, taking a step closer in her direction "Dinna fash. Sometimes media exposure can work to yer benefit."
Claire looked up and saw the amusement in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Weel, for one, Frank will surely leave ye alone now. He wouldnae want to jeopardise his career in case ye talk to the press. I'm presuming he'd be thinking, ye've been considerably unpredictable ever since ye jumped out of the church's window. Controlling people don't like unaccounted for surprises. And ye're likely to do something spontaneous."
"I guess you have a point ..." She sipped her drink and quickly changed the subject. "What happens now?" she asked, watching the elite and sports' celebrities rub shoulders together, exchange air-kisses and posed for the cameras with subdued interest.
Claire had never seen so much pretentiousness in one room, and she'd mingled often enough in Frank's circle to make that distinction. The need to impress was so palpable in the air when, in actual fact, almost every individual present was talented and gifted in their own way. It was too showy and flashy for an event that was supposed to be all about honouring sportsmanship and sports in general. The only thing that seemed genuine was the designer clothes they're wearing and their expensive perfumes wafting through the air. It seemed like the long tentacles of the world of celebrities have crept into the world of sports, blinding them with glitz and glamour. It was definitely not a scene she could get used to, and she felt, Jamie couldn't either no matter how much self-confidence he exuded and wanted the job.
"We're just waiting for Forbes," Jamie explained. "I told him I'd meet him here and he's supposed to update me on his talks with the network." 
"Forbes is your agent, right?"
"Aye. And speaking of the devil, he appears." Jamie gestured toward the tall, blonde and handsome man in a dark blue business suit, walking confidently through groups of celebrities. "Showtime," he whispered, shifting on his feet.
She downed her champagne in two mouthfuls and watched Forbes stopped and shook hands with Andy Murray, Scotland's professional tennis player. It was apparent Jamie's agent knew a lot of famous people and appeared comfortable around them as he greeted and addressed a few more.
"Jamie!" Forbes strode towards them in a way a famous person might. His smile Hollywoodesque as he shook Jamie's hand. He was younger than Claire thought, midway through his thirties and almost as tall as Jamie. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Forbes apologised. "Got held up in the office and then stuck in the traffic."
Jamie nodded. "Nae bother. We haven't been here for too long." He put an arm possessively across her shoulders and pulled her in. "Forbes, this is Claire, my girlfriend." Forbes took her hand and kissed it, smiling over it when she blushed. She felt Jamie stiffened, indicative of his lack of credence towards his agent. 
"Call me Gerald. Forbes is my surname. I'm a long time friend and confidante of Jamie. I'm surprised he hasn't introduced you sooner, but I've seen you in the papers. Have to say you caused quite a stir in Edinburgh, and the pictures that were published haven't done you any justice at all. You're even more beautiful in person." He dipped his head as if his next words were meant only for her ears. "Jamie's reputation precedes him. As we all know, he has a keen eye for beautiful women."
Claire swallowed and yanked her hand back. "A keen eye for beautiful women, you say?" She glanced up at Jamie before looking at Forbes squarely in the eyes. "Too bad it doesn't extend to his instinctual perception on human nature. Jamie is too trusting for his own good."
Taken off guard by her reply, Forbes stared at her for a few seconds, trying to gauge her meaning. When she didn't smile, he was left with no other choice but to give out a fake laugh that was so over-the-top and loud, a few people glanced their way. Jamie disguised his choke with a cough.
"That's sports agents for ye," Jamie remarked, squeezing her shoulder. "Cannae live with 'em ..."
"Can't sign a deal worth a damn without them," Forbes added, plastering his toothpaste advert smile back on his face and dragging his attention away from her. "Well, Jamie, shall we go somewhere private and talk business?"
"No. We can talk here," Jamie said smoothly, releasing Claire to grab more glasses of bubblies from a passing waiter. "It's simple, really," he started, passing a glass to her and then to Forbes. "It's either the network and I are on the same page or not. So which is it?"
The mega-watt smile on Forbes dimmed, as he cast a quick glance at Claire before looking back at Jamie again. "I reasoned with the directors, and they've invited both of you at their table for further talks."
"And?"
Forbes tugged at his tie. "They still want you to do a pap photo with Geneva tonight. And it would be wise if we told the press Claire is your PA in case her identity leaks out."
"I'll do a promotional photo with Geneva if that's what they want," Jamie said firmly. "As for Claire's identity, the press or some random fan has probably already figured it out who she is. The fans aren't stupid." 
"Fine, so what if they've figured it out," Forbes sighed, lifting a hand in the air. "Just release a statement saying Claire's working as your PA while she's out of a job or something. Or a close friend who came with you as your plus one for tonight. Or just say nothing at all, and I'll release a statement to the press for you."
Noticing the tension between the two men, Claire placed a hand on Jamie's arm. "Shall I leave you both alone. I'll be just right over there," Claire intervened. She knew how important this job was for Jamie, and she was more than willing to remain hidden from the public if that's what it took.
"No," Jamie replied, grabbing her hand, in case she did walk away. "Please stay." He gave her a pleading look. She couldn't say no, so she simply nodded hoping they would come to some kind of resolution. Satisfied she wasn't going anywhere, Jamie turned his attention once more back to Forbes. "You will not release any statement on my behalf, and I will not discuss my personal life to the press. I've never had, and I'm not about to start now. Anyone who's got eyes knows Claire is with me and hundreds of pictures have already been taken when we arrived. The only thing I am willing to talk to the press about is my work."
"Jamie, there won't be any work if the directors found out you are with the  Runaway Bride  and even more so if the word gets out," Forbes argued impatiently. "We can make those pictures disappear, and nobody has to know about Claire. And it's for her own good too."
Claire tried not to flinch, but both men noticed. Forbes gave her an apologetic look and Jamie squeezed her hand.
"The directors said they specifically wanted that?" Jamie asked in disbelief.
Forbes sighed. "They want an unattached Jamie."
"And yet, they want me to parade myself with Geneva? That doesn't make any sense at all," Jamie countered.
"Look there's something I need to tell you about Geneva. And you can't tell another soul ..." Forbes paused and eyed Claire.
Jamie noticed Forbe's hesitation. "Claire won't say a word. She's a doctor and has a duty of confidentiality to her patients. So this won't be any different," Jamie reassured his agent.
Forbes nodded and lowered his voice. "There are rumours within the IOC that Geneva used performance-enhancing drugs during the Commonwealth Games and Beijing World Championships and she may be consequently be stripped off her medals ..."
"And how is that my problem?" Jamie challenged.
"Well, this is where you come in. You know that Geneva's dad, William, is one of the directors of the network, right?" When Jamie nodded, Forbes resumed. "The IOC isn't the problem, and the majority of the committee can be bought, but it won't stop the rumours circulating. So daddy dearest wants to paint a nice picture of Geneva for the public by giving her a few stints on the sports network. They want you both to host the London World Championship during rugby off-season. Her exposure will unveil her to the public as a clean-living athlete, and so when the rumours grow its head, the public will dismiss it as mere gossip. And also, they want the public to perceive you both as a couple. There'll be no need for you to announce you both are. A few pap photos here and there and the fans will do the talking. You're the ideal person for the partnership with Geneva because well, you know ... you were well-known for your discipline in rugby. No drugs, no alcohol, five times best player of the year, Scotland's national treasure and all that shit. Get my drift?"
"And why me?" Jamie asked warily. "Surely, there are other candidates with the same background in sports as I have, a better reputation and could talk comfortably and eloquently in front of the camera. I can think of five on top of my head, and they're all living nearer to London."
Forbes shook his head as if he couldn't comprehend why Jamie still hadn't understood yet. "You come from an old family, Jamie. A family with a solid background, good reputation and the public is more forgiving with your past indiscretions compared to your peers. And that alone carries a lot of weight in William Dunsany's eyes."
Jamie gave a burst of short mirthless laughter. "And here I thought I was being considered for the job because they saw a potential in me." He shook his head in disbelief and slapped Forbes on the shoulder. "Sorry mate, thanks but no thanks."
"Jamie! We're talking about a million-pound contract here and a place in the network for two years. That's an incredible amount of money for someone who doesn't have experience in mass media. No one is asking you to break up with Claire. Just keep things between the two of you under wraps. That's not difficult, is it?"
"Aye, it is! Have ye lived under the watchful eye of the press? Claire will be living with me. How am I suppose to keep our relationship under wraps? The answer is no. I'm not putting Claire under that pressure."
"William Dunsany is desperate. Maybe I can arrange a better deal for you," Forbes offered.
Jamie arched an eyebrow. "Why is he desperate?"
"William Dunsany is about to be bestowed a knighthood by the Queen, and he can't afford any scandal or gossip tainting his family name. He thinks Geneva being linked to you would shift the focus away from the rumours."
"Sorry, Forbes. It's one thing piling this whole shite on me but ..."
Forbes raised both his hands and gestured to both of them. "Talk about it, the two of you. And I'll go and talk to Dunsany and get you a better deal. I'll give you both half an hour to decide." And then he turned and strode away before either of them could say a word.
Jamie took Claire's glass and set it on the nearby table and faced her. "Do ye want to talk about this, Sassenach?"
"I think we should," she whispered.
Without another word, Jamie took Claire by the elbow and led them to an empty conference room. Once alone and away from the crowd, they sat on a nearby table facing each other.
Claire spoke first. "Jamie, I totally get it. The money doesn't mean anything to you, and I know you love me, and I also know you're willing to walk away from all of this because of me, but ..."
"Sassenach ..."
"No, Jamie, hear me out first, please," she insisted, wringing her hands as she searched for the right words. "You're here because you want to be part of that sport you love so much and want to start your own rugby academy with the money you'll earn. I know we talked about this in the car before we got here, but I don't want to be the reason for giving up your dreams. I can't live with that. When two people love one another, they nurture and support each other. I want you to do this thing in London and build your academy."
He smiled and took her hands from across the table. "Sassenach, I appreciate what ye're saying but it doesnae matter. Besides, I get the feeling ye dinnae like London much and the whole palaver with the paparazzi, and I cannae do it on my own if ye decide to send me away. I'd miss ye terribly."
It was true what Jamie said. She hated London, but she'd also hate it if she didn't get to see him every day and see where their relationship go. Maybe this was a test and opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime. Of course, they could make their own opportunities, but more often than not they are sprung on you like a dare to test your skills, to see if you could take that leap of faith to make whatever it was a success. To continue to be dictated by fear, an excellent opportunity might slip away. Frank already took away so much by inspiring self-doubt in her, and she didn't want to be afraid anymore. She needed to take that leap first, for the sake of both of them. And although Claire didn't like the idea that William Dunsany could get a knighthood from her life-changing decision, Claire had a feeling Geneva was being manipulated by her father. She wanted to be beside Jamie to make sure it wouldn't happen to him and at the same time reach out to Geneva and help her.
Confident she made the right decision, she stood up, walked over to him and sat on his lap. Linking her arms together around Jamie's neck, she planted a kiss on his lips and smiled. "What if I said I want to come to London with you, would that change your mind?"
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elenajohansenauthor · 4 years
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no one:
no one:
me: here’s a 5K full chapter of partially edited smut from my WIP
[content warnings: light BDSM with a strong dom/sub dynamic but no toys, bondage, or pain. full and clear consent. very explicit.]
Amber bent down to give a highly embarrassed Liesl a peck on the cheek. She'd been flushed red to the roots of her dark brown hair since the moment Will had coaxed her out onto the stage. Liesl wasn't a rock star, she was a sound tech, a damn good one they were lucky to have. She wasn't used to being the center of attention.
Having a few thousand people sing you "Happy Birthday" could unnerve a person that way.
Will finished up his banter with the audience as the rest of the band gave Liesl her chaste birthday kisses. Kenzie looked like she wanted to give the woman a solid spank for good measure. As far as Amber knew, Liesl wouldn't be into that, and Kenzie wouldn't actually do it. Hopefully that extra energy would translate to a wild night with her lighting-crew paramour instead. She hadn't been sleeping on the bus much lately. Amber watched Rob give Liesl her kiss with a pang of completely unfounded jealousy. She had no reason to indulge her insecurities. If Rob was anyone's, he was hers. They had a contract, half-unwritten and signed with a few minutes of heady, passionate making out. More accurate to call it an understanding, but they'd both stick to it.
They hadn't had any opportunities to act on it, though. After three days of waiting Amber was antsy. The nights had been replays of so many before; she woke up, found Rob in the lounge, and cuddled with him while they talked. He was a little more free with his hands, stroking her hair and massaging her scalp as he'd learned she liked. And he'd kissed her a few times, gentle presses of his lips to her temple or her forehead. Never her mouth. Never anything that couldn't be the actions of a close but still platonic friend. He was treating her like a skittish horse ready to spook. He had good reason to, even if Amber hated why that was true. She appreciated the thoughtfulness, but she needed more from him, and soon.
Standing beside him while he sang, even if was "Happy Birthday," even if he'd placed himself back from the shared microphone so it only picked up hints of his amazing voice . . .
Would he sing her, just for her, if she asked? She wanted to, but that wanting embarrassed her, especially since she doubted he would.
And as sweet as a lullaby would be, it wasn't what she wanted, not now, with barely leashed fire running through her veins.
She wasn't sure she could wait until tomorrow night.
Liesl dashed off-stage, and the rest of their set passed in a pulse-pounding, ear-numbing blur. Amber had hit her stride, fitting into the Brody-shaped hole in the band and making temporarily her own. Everything was finally meshing.
As the curtain dropped after their encore, Rob approached her with a water bottle and a smile. She lifted her guitar strap over her head and handed the instrument to one of the crew to pack.
Though the others were breaking down their gear as usual, laughing and hyped up after a great show, Amber felt disconnected from them. She and Rob were in their own bubble, a separate world where everything else was distant and dim. Even the lights faded, leaving them in a half-darkness tinted red from the emergency exit signs. She took the offered water and drank half the bottle.
Rob shook his sweat-darkened hair back from his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Amber held up a hand to stop him. After a quick glance to see if anyone was paying them any attention, she jerked her head toward the door and led him into the hallway. After turning a few corners, they were out of sight, alone. She kissed him, using her greater height and his surprise to propel him backwards into a wall.
His hand lifted to her chin, forcing her back, breaking the kiss before she had even half of what she wanted from him. "Bad girl," he whispered. "Bad, impatient girl." But he was grinning in the bright glare of the hallway lights.
She waited for the sting of embarrassment to hit, but it didn't. Rob's tone wasn't angry or vengeful or cruel. In fact, he almost sounded impressed, like he was pleased she'd forced the issue. The waiting might not be any easier on him.
His hand closed firmly on her good shoulder, pressing down. "On your knees, pet."
Amber shivered, hearing that endearment. She might have chosen something else, but she didn't mind it, not if he made it carry that much warmth. She steadied herself as she descended by holding on to Rob's waist. The leather of his belt was smooth under her touch, and she gripped it tightly to stop herself from tearing it free from his jeans. She looked up, waiting for direction.
"Should I be disciplining you for being so greedy you want to take me in public, or letting you have what you want because you're being so brave?" His other hand traced soft lines over her cheek. They were alone in the hallway, but exposed. Amber couldn't decide if she was more excited or afraid someone would catch them like this.
She made some choked, almost animal noise, being so close to him yet still holding back. She didn't know what he wanted from her, what he would allow.  But her body cried out for him mindlessly, urging her closer. She wanted to rub her face against the bulge in his jeans, open them, take him into her mouth.
"No, pet," he said, as if reading her mind. More likely, he understood the the press of her hands on his body. "Not here.  I'm sure you could be so quiet while you suck my cock that no one would hear you. But I'm not about to share you with anyone if they find us. No one else gets to watch."
She let him lift her up and guide her deeper into the maze of corridors behind the stage. Impatient and greedy as she was, she didn't mind when he propelled her through a door without knowing what lay on the other side.
It was a single-occupancy restroom with a lock on the door. They'd be safe from discovery here. She thought she could pick up where they left off, but Rob kept a grip on her arm while he pulled his phone out with his other hand. "It's Will," he said. "Asking if I want to join him and Ben at a bar."
Which explained why Amber hadn't received a similar text. And Kenzie was undoubtedly somewhere hooking up with her new girl. "We could go back to the bus, no one's there," she suggested while Rob texted her brother back.
Rob shook his head. "The dressing room will be empty. There was a lock on the door." At her look, he grinned. "Yeah, I checked. I could make a bathroom work," he added, gesturing at the white-tiled walls. "But we'll be more comfortable there."
The walk back through the corridors flew by with her racing thoughts. The room had to be empty, and she dreaded running into anyone on the way. No one could look at Amber's face and not see what she'd nearly done, what she was about to do, written all it. And she didn't even sure what she was about to do, because Rob hadn't said. They'd barely said anything, but she'd gotten a taste of Rob as the confident, powerful lover she needed--
Words. Amber halted in the middle of the empty hallway.
Rob came to a stop behind her, one warm, broad palm on the small of her back. "Amber?"
She charged forward. When she reached the dressing room, she threw herself onto the couch. He followed her in, scanning the room and locking the door when he was certain they were alone.
He hovered near the door, giving her space. "What's wrong?"
"Safe words." Her knees were shaking, rattling together like castanets. "I never picked one out."
In an instant, Rob was on his knees in front of her, petting her arms, her face, her shoulders. "You're right, Amber, that was a mistake. I shouldn't have let that happen." A small, quirky smile came to his face. "You caught me off guard, is all. I would have stopped if you said."
Amber hung her head, ashamed of her attack of nerves. "I know." And she did, as soon as he said it. The trust she'd misplaced came flooding back. "I know," she repeated. "I do, it's just . . ."
"That can't happen again." His face grew serious. "And I do want to indulge your exhibitionist side, but I think we can agree that was a bit too reckless. We shouldn't actually get caught."
She nodded. "I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."
"I am too." He leaned forward, drawing her mouth down to his for a sweet, short kiss. "Take a few minutes to calm down, then tell me your safe words. After that, we can keep going, or not, whatever you want."
She'd calm down better with him close. She pulled him in, nuzzling his neck with her nose, letting herself be coddled, petted, cared for. Rob didn't rush her. She was the greedy, impatient one, after all. She was the bad girl.
"Rob," she said suddenly.
His hands stopped mid-stroke. "What is it?"
"What you were saying, calling me a bad girl. I know it's part of the game, but that's about as much as I can take. Nothing more than that, please."
He let out a sigh. Was he disappointed? "I hear you, Amber. Do you want me to back off even that? For me, it's only play. I don't have the same gut reaction to it you do."
"No, it's fine. I even like it, just that little bit, because I know you don't mean it."
He drew her in tighter. "I don't."
"I'm sorry, I'm such a wuss about humiliation--"
"Stop." He straightened, taking her shoulders in his grip to face her. "Don't do that to yourself. I'm not judging you, and you don't get to judge yourself." His voice went hard. "I'll make it an order if I have to, pet. I don't want to hear that again. I won't listen to you tearing yourself down."
Another time, the sweetness under his dominance might have brought her to tears, but somehow instead it gave her strength. "No, sir." Her voice was as wobbly as her body felt, but she got the words out. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
He raised one blessedly warm hand to her face, and some of the anguish drained from his expression. "Your safe words, pet. Have you decided?"
"Yes." She took a deep breath, hoping this might make him laugh and take away whatever guilt he was still feeling. "Beluga for caution, and elephant for stop."
Rob tried to hold in his laugh, so it came out halfway to a snort. "Well, I'm not going to mistake that for anything else."
She offered a weak smile. "Hope I won't need them."
He gave her another brief kiss. "Me, too. So what now, pet? What do you need?"
She clung to him, overwhelmed by all the options, the scenarios, swirling in her mind. She tried to speak, letting out a soft squeak instead when he touched her back.
"Shh, pet, it's okay. Need a little help deciding? You need to come, don't you." His voice was soft and his breath hot against her ear.
"So much."
"Do you want me to get you there, or do you want me to watch? I'd like to learn how you touch yourself."
His suggestion was a gentle nudge, but not a subtle one. Subtlety might come later, when they knew each other better.
Or it might not, because this could be over so fast. But Amber had to shove those thoughts aside. She couldn't let her doubts ruin what they might have before it even got started.
"Yes," she breathed. "I can do that for you."
Rob drew back from her and smiled. "All right, pet. I want you to sit right there and show me yourself. Take off whatever you need to, leave on whatever you like. I'll be over there," he explained, jerking his head at one of the canvas folding chairs facing the bank of vanity mirrors. "Not far if you need me, but this is your show."
She nodded as he left her. He turned a chair to face her and settled into it, legs spread, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, chin in hand. Ready to watch whatever she wanted to do.
This was almost more decision-making power than she wanted to have. A deep part of her craved not only the loss of control, but the giving over of it. Even if this wouldn't be much of a strip-tease, straight on to her pleasuring herself, it felt like Rob had handed her too much of her power back. She wasn't sure what to do with it.
She wasn't ready to get completely naked. If they were in a bed together in a hotel, in true privacy, she might have been able to. She would have been shy about it for so many reasons, but she didn't doubt Rob would have coaxed her out of all her clothes.
In the dressing room, though, her hands paused on the buttons of her shirt. Not exactly the most seductive clothing, but Rob was watching her with obvious interest anyway. He'd already been sweet about her scars, too, but the ones hidden under her shirt, the ones he hadn't seen yet--
She could save those for another night, another few inches of trust. She dropped her hands to her jeans instead. For a heartbeat she wished for one of her maxi skirts, something full and flouncy she could draw up her legs as a tease, or something tight she could shimmy out of. She had to settle for peeling the skinny jeans off one leg at a time, which didn't feel particularly sexy. Rob's gaze traced her body as she revealed it. Aside from the thin, straight surgical scar on her shin, her legs were unblemished, the part of her with the least damage. Hopefully he was a leg man, because she didn't have much to speak of in the tits-and-ass department.
She folded her jeans and set them on the end table, turning when she heard Rob choking back another laugh. Only then did she realize what she'd done, and she giggled. "Not something a stripper would do."
"But it does explain why your bunk doesn't look like a tornado hit it." Rob gestured with one hand. "Go on, pet, you're doing fine."
He sounded like he meant it, so she continued, sliding her fingers into her panties at the hips and working them down her legs. This time, when she had them off, she flung them across the room at Rob, who plucked them out of the air. He held the scrap of soft blue fabric to his face, his eyes dropping half-closed as he took a deep breath of her scent. "Good girl," he murmured. "Hope you don't want these back just yet."
"No, sir," she answered as she lowered herself onto the couch. "I'm not going to need them for a while."
When she lifted one leg to drape it over the arm of the couch, his attention focused on her again. He kept the panties in his hand but lowered the clenched fist to his leg, rubbing his erection though his jeans idly, almost meditatively. He must mean it when he kept telling her there was no rush. He was obviously in no hurry himself.
When she moved one hand to her mound, she had a moment's panic that he'd make some comment about the state of her grooming, or lack of it. But of course, she was wrong, Rob wasn't so crass. Instead he tilted his head a few degrees, following the path of her fingers as she traced her labia once, twice, three times before dipping in, circling her clit without touching it, then moving back out to repeat the sequence a few more times.
"Do you always tease yourself so much first, or is this for me?" His low, husky tone filled her ears with warmth and raw delight.
"Sometimes I do." Her own words were breathy, strained. "Sometimes I can't wait that long."
"Patience doesn't seem to be your strong suit, pet. We'll have to work on that."
"Yes, sir." She brushed her clit once, the contact a tiny shock that rippled through her body, lifting her back off the seat. His pronouncement hadn't sounded like a threat--they hadn't discussed anything elaborate about denial. Ironically, that made her want to go even slower, to make this last for him, even if she wasn't getting off at the end of it. Which he had implied she was. But he could change his mind, make her do something else instead. Or at least make her work harder for permission to finish. So she took her time instead of rushing headlong into the unknown.
All this wondering about what he intended meant she wasn't focusing on the moment enough. She was grasping at control by trying to anticipate him. But Rob had given this much power back to her. He wanted her to have it. He trusted her with it.
She could do this.
Rob shifted in his chair and asked another question, which pulled her from her wandering thoughts. "Only one-handed? What do you do with the other one?"
Oh, so many things. Which to mention first. "Sometimes I touch my breasts." Before he could request her to, she went on. "Or if I have a toy, a dildo, I use my other hand for that."
"For what?" Rob sounded vaguely scolding, like a teacher prodding for the right answer.
"To fuck myself with it."
"And if you don't have a toy? Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?" Oh, she liked to hear him say fuck. He didn't swear much, not casually, and the few times she had heard him it had never been an f-bomb. Maybe he reserved it for dirty talk.
"Not usually. Harder to roll over and go to sleep when I'm done if I have to clean up first."
"Ah." Rob raised her panties to his nose again and inhaled before speaking again. "I don't think clean-up is going to be a problem tonight. Show me everything."
Everything would take several hours and more toys that she had on hand. Which was none, because no way did she want anyone finding that shit on the bus. But she knew what Rob meant. She brought her left hand to her core and pressed in, already so slick her body offered no resistance.
"Starting with two? Brave girl."
"Horny girl, sir," she corrected with a whimper. "I need this so bad."
The admission slipped out of her, but at the widening of his eyes, she couldn't regret it. She really did need to get off. She needed something better than the silent, panicked darkness of her bunk. She was always afraid someone would hear her, or worse, not hear her and interrupt. Even if Rob never touched her again, even if what they had was over the moment her orgasm hit, she was happier with her sex life than she'd been in years.
But it wouldn't stop. She saw it in the considering, attentive look in his eyes. He needed this, too.
"When you're ready, add another finger."
That wasn't much of a test. Her fingers were long, graceful on the guitar strings, but they were narrow, almost dainty. Three was no challenge, but if she were bold enough to say so, he might push her to four right away. When she followed his instruction, she couldn't help a cry at the fullness and a sudden wish that it wasn't her own fingers filling her.
Soon. Soon, he would have to touch her, wouldn't he?
"Are you close now?"
Amber opened her eyes--when had she closed them?--and saw Rob stroking himself more firmly, though he hadn't taken off or even opened his jeans. "Yes." It was hardly more than a whimper, but it carried over the sounds of her fingers moving against her body. Beyond that and her heavy breathing, the room was silent.
"Do you want to come now?"
"Yes!"
Rob lifted an eyebrow at her, his hand moving slowly, almost as if he'd forgotten he was touching himself. Or that he was too busy concentrating on her to put more effort into his own pleasure.
"Yes, please, sir," she amended breathlessly.
"Go on, then, pet. Show me how you come."
In a perfect world, that would have set her off, but it didn't. Having someone watching her like this was too new. So was prolonging the experience. It had been so long since she had masturbated for anything other than getting off as quickly as possible. Even alone in her own house, she didn't take time to savor her own enjoyment. It had become a painkiller, a sleep aid, a necessity rather than a pleasure.
She'd never been the type to come on command, anyway. Knowing Rob was watching her, waiting for it, was almost enough to get her there.
She slipped her pinky inside and widened her fingers, sparking enough of a bite of pain to push her that last distance. She heard Rob groan as she bucked against the couch, her hips working against her hand, putting her at risk of sliding right off the cushions. Her toes curled and her head thrashed from side to side. Her eyes squeezed shut, as if the poster-plastered walls of the dressing room were to blame for the overwhelming rush of sensation.
When she came back to herself, Rob had crossed the room to kneel before her again. Shouldn't that be the other way around? He lowered his head between her legs, licking her fingers where they'd fallen out of her body and planting soft, sucking kisses on the slick skin of her inner thighs. She stiffened for a moment, ready to push him away because she wasn't ready for round two, then she realized what he was doing.
This wasn't foreplay, he wasn't about to go down on her. He was cleaning her up, as promised.
Her entire body went supple and boneless on the couch. She lifted her other hand to stroke the back of his head, which earned her a soft chuckle and an even softer bite to her sensitive labia. Nothing that would hurt or mark, but with enough teeth to warn her not to get too free with her hands. Permission to touch him must be a privilege she had to earn, something Rob liked to keep under his control.
Though she should have felt sated, the idea made her hot again. Long-term denial wasn't a kink she'd played with, but short-term? Needing permission to touch him or to come? Totally worked for her. He'd make her frenzied with want by withholding himself.
Amber didn't want to make assumptions about his control of himself, but in his position, she'd be about to burst. She couldn't string together a polite, humble request to get his cock into her mouth. But there was one thing she could manage. "Sir?" she asked softly.
Rob lifted his head. "What is it, pet?" Not demanding or harsh. Warm. Pleased. He didn't need to say "good girl" because she could hear it in his tone.
"Thank you."
That made him smile. "Of course. Need a few more minutes to rest?"
She shook her head and straightened. "No, sir."
He pressed one more kiss to her thigh before sitting back on his heels. "Okay, then. Next time you come, it's going to be all over my mouth--you taste too good to skip straight to fucking. But right now, I want to come in yours."
As he stood, Amber slid off the couch onto her knees. The old pose, legs spread, wrists resting on her thighs with her palms turned up, came to her more easily than she expected. She hadn't presented herself to anyone for years, but her body hadn't forgotten how.  She lowered her gaze, staring at the worn knees of Rob's jeans and listening to him undoing his belt buckle. He shoved his jeans and underwear down far enough to free his erection. After he raised her face with one finger under her chin, he gestured for her hands, placing them on his hips. "I won't be too rough tonight," he began, "but you're not going to have a lot of control, either. If you need to use your safe word and you can't get free fast enough, pinch me. Understand?"
She nodded, but he only raised that demanding eyebrow again. "Yes, sir." She had no problem with him insisting on verbal consent.
It only made her feel safer, more cared for. He stepped closer, his cock almost brushing her cheek. She felt the heat of it and breathed in the salty, warm musk of his body. She glanced up. "May I begin, sir?"
"That's my good girl," he answered, resting one hand on her cheek. "Show me what you can do."
She started with slow, sweeping licks, as soft and maddening as those he'd used on her only a few minutes before. His other hand came up, bracketing her jaw with light pressure. He wasn't forcing her movement or even guiding her, at least not yet. Maybe it made him hot to feel her cheeks working beneath his palms.
They had so much to discover about each other, and not enough time to do it.
Amber refused to let those thoughts plague her for a second time, and certainly not when Rob's smooth, hard cock was between her lips. She concentrated on that instead, wanting to serve him more than anything else in that moment.
Her burst of enthusiasm was appreciated, because Rob smoothly took some of her control back, shifting his hands to point his fingers along her throat, positioning her head for a deeper thrust. Not more than she could take, but even that small bit of force exerted brought a fresh rush of arousal to her core. What would it be like if he really let go, if he was rough, if he fucked her face? Would she drip right onto the carpet?
She moaned at the thought, and Rob took over, holding her still as he pumped smoothly in and out, setting a fast but manageable pace.
Soon she wondered if they'd waited too long to get to his turn, or if he needed more, because Rob showed no obvious signs of coming. She wasn't impatient for it to be over, but eventually she would tire.
She wanted to give him everything he'd given her, though, so she brought one hand over from his hip for an experimental touch to his balls, gently cupping them in her fingers.
Rob shuddered. "Yes, yes." His words came between harsh pants for air. "Lift them, squeeze them, not too hard. Feel all that? That's for you."
Amber didn't know what that part of his anatomy usually looked or felt like, but he did seem tender and swollen. Clearly it had been a while for him, too--never enough privacy on the bus. She kept her movements careful, not wanting to tickle him or cause any pain.
A choked sound and the sudden tensing of his leg under her other hand gave her a second's warning before he spoke. "You ready, pet? You ready for me? Good girls get--"
Come, he might have said, or maybe rewarded. But he cut off with a low groan as he spilled into her mouth, hot and slick. Amber swallowed, taking him as deep as she could, ignoring the tears in her eyes as she gave up the ability to breathe. Rob let out a high, keening whine of surprise, his fingers tightening on her skull for a heartbeat before he let go, as if afraid he would mark her.
By the strength of that grip, he might have.
Amber let go when he pulled back, twisting his body to drop onto the couch and rest. He made a face at the scratchy upholstery against his bare ass. Amber hadn't enjoyed that either, but it had stopped mattering when she'd gotten turned on high. Coming down, it couldn't be comfortable. She faced him, still kneeling, and helped him get his clothing back in place. "You get dressed too, pet," he told her with a wave at her discarded clothing. "Then come up here and let me hold you."
The couch was too short by a mile for her to stretch out on it, but she could curl up, laying over Rob's lap. He braced a throw pillow against the arm of the couch so she'd be more comfortable, then wrapped both arms around her and drew her close.
They rested in silence for what felt like a long time. Amber listened to the gradually slowing thump of his heartbeat and relaxed against the warmth of his chest.
"You okay with everything we did, Amber?"
The switch back to her name from pet let her know his frame of mind. They were done; time to assess. "Yeah." The word came out dreamy and slow.
"You surprised me. You didn't tell me you could deep-throat."
She giggled, which almost made her giggle again because it was so unlike her. "I can't, not for very long. That's why I saved it for the end."
He nuzzled her ear with the tip of his nose. "You want more practice, say the word. That felt amazing." After punctuating that thought with a light kiss to her undoubtedly disheveled curls, he sagged against the cushions. "What did you like best?"
Knowing that he wasn't fishing for compliments let her be honest. "It would have been hot if you'd been masturbating while I was, really into it, I mean. But I liked that you were so focused on me that touching yourself was an afterthought."
He squeezed her gently. "Unless we want to try some sort of more active denial, where I ignore you, you're always going to be my focus. If you're interested, I'm not opposed, but it's not really my thing."
She sighed. "No, I like being your center of attention. I could definitely get used to that."
Rob laughed. "Ready to get up? Because we both need feeding, and then I think it's time to get you to bed. The bus'll be quiet with everyone else gone."
A sudden, sweeping longing for Rob to curl up in her bunk tonight came over Amber, but she only smiled at him and sat up. That wasn't part of their arrangement, and it would only raise uncomfortable questions. "Pizza?" she asked lightly instead.
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admin-in-residence · 5 years
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Now you see me, Now you don’t...Kaku, Lucci, Jabra.
Request: A new member of CP9 who can exist nowheres and anywheres, and likes to scare people, watch people sleep when stuck with a bout of insomnia.
Kaku
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Most of CP9 weren’t too concerned over the new member who had been assigned to CP9, but of anybody to be the most “welcoming” it would be Kaku.
Assigned by Lucci to receive the new recruit, Kaku had been waiting for you to be dropped off at the docks. Nothing out of the usual, he had found a comfy spot atop a supply crate and simply waited.
And waited...
And waited some more.
Impatiently tapping his foot against the crate, Kaku was trying to debate what to do...how could someone be so late, had their ship docked at an island and set the pace back? Surely they would have heard of any delaying news...
Kaku was just about to report back to Lucci, when he caught a slight bit of movement behind him.
Startled and caught off guard, Kaku scrambled off the supply crate, crashing down to the wooden dock with an undignified yelp.
“I didn’t think you would scare that easily...” Your very first words to him, with a cocky smirk plastered on your face.
Rather unpleased with the introduction, Kaku felt himself tense.
“Your late recruit.” Kaku replied, the smirk slipped off your face with a look of confusion taking place.
“Excuse me?”
“Your late...you were meant to be here an hour ago.”
It was very quiet for a few minutes before your shoulders started shaking and Kaku, now standing upon the dock, narrowed his eyes...surely he hadn’t made you cry?
The complete opposite in fact, you tilted your head back, a sharp laugh ringing out.
“You say that i’m a hour late?” You laugh. “Dear, I've been  here for an hour sitting beside you. I thought you were testing me or something making me sit here in silence.”
Kaku stiffened. There was no way you were here with him...he would of been able to sense your presence.
“That’s impassable-I would hav-” Kaku started to say, before you slowly started to fade away. He swiftly shut his mouth as you had fully dissipated.
“Perhaps I should tell you about me devil fruit?” You said, the man turning around to see you behind me.
“I exist...but I don’t. My devil fruit allows me to appear and dissapear as I please...you wouldn’t be able to sense me if I simply choose to appear, yet not exist...confusing correct?”
Kaku blinked in reply.
Of course...that was just the introduction. Kaku should have known better then to expect any simple and sane person...it seemed that you had taken a liking to him...choosing him as one of your primary targets to pop up and scare every now and then.
Kaku would have thought he could get used to it...but without the ability to sense when you would appear, it made him seem like any other normal person.
But what really got him...were the nightly visits.
Each and every member of CP9 had their own little quirks, goods and bads...and it seemed as if your own downfall was the insomnia you suffered. The inability for you sleep led to you filling your time elsewhere.
When Kaku awoke in the middle of the night, he figured he would just be able to roll over and go back to sleep.
But there was that small little glint that had him swiftly out of bed, his sword drawn and pressed to the intruders neck.
“Easy there! Do you always sleep with a sword under your pillow? Seems kinda dangerous...” You spoke up.
“Y/N! What are you doing here? Do you know how late it is...it’s like 3 in the morning!” Kaku exclaimed, quickly withdrawing his sword and sitting back down.
“Actually, it’s only 2:30. But good guess.” You replied, smiling cheekily.
Kaku’s face wasn’t smiling back.
“Y/N go back your room and sleep.” Kaku muttered, slumping backwards upon his bed.
He hardly heard you and looked at you.
“What was that?” Kaku asked.
“I can’t sleep...not anymore. My devil fruit won’t allow it...”
Kaku studied their face carefully...seeing the raw emotion...the tiredness, and despair that filled their shadowed face. And for once...Kaku felt bad for them.
Despite all of the trouble that they give them, after that night...Kaku became a lot more lenient with their jokes.
Lucci
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Everybody in CP9 was eagerly waiting to see the new recruit. When Kaku appeared without anyone by his side, there was an uproar from other members, however Lucci waited patiently for their explanation. 
“I’ve brought Y/N with me.” Kaku said quietly.
Jabura let out a bellowing laugh and asked the other member if he had gotten his eyes checked recently. Spandam, let out a harsh yell about the disappointment...but Lucci narrowed his eyes.
Kaku wouldn’t lie...which meant the member was somewhere in this room.
Then he felt a small breeze of air...and a soft touch upon his shoulder, before a certain pigeon-sized weight dissapeared off of it.
“Aww! He’s so cute...I didn’t know you guys had a pet! What’s his name?”
Lucci remained calm, turning his head around to look at Y/N over their shoulder. The new member blinked happily at him, their hands carefully holding onto Hattori.
Chaos went up around him, Spandam let out a unmanish scream at the sudden appearance, Jabura chocked on his own words, Kumadori gaped, Fukuro let out a long line of gibberish words, Blueno blinked in surprise and Kalifa narrored her eyes.
“Sorry for the sudden appearance...you should have seen Kaku...he didn’t even notice me for an entire hour!” 
Jabura’s shocked face twisted into laughter, but Lucci’s face turned into a smrik.
“Your a devil fruit user.” Lucci stated. Y/N nodded. Everyone around them calmed and listened to their new member.
“My devil fruit, as I explained to Kaku, gives me the power to appear anywheres, and nowheres...a better explanation is that I can exist...and not exist, however I may choose. It’s a bit confusing...” Y/N explained, before turning back to cuddle Hattori who gave a soft coo at the sudden attention.
It was fairly simlple after that...Y/N had a habit of appearing out of nowhere’s to scare the other members...but the one they could never get was Lucci.
They would appear upon the table as he ate breakfast, the man simply staring at them before Hattori moved to join her shoulder.
During the early morning training sessions, they would fall upon his back when he stopped to take a rest, merely slipping off of the fine hard muscles.
They would appear halfway out of a wall...but nothing could get Lucci. In fact...it seemed that it went the opposite way.
Y/N would be getting something out of the fridge, not paying attention, and an arm would pop over grabbing a can of something or a peice of meat... they would be shocked at the sudden appearance of the CP9 member...
Or the time where they had been training with Kaku, and just as they dissapeared and reappeared, Lucci stood arms crossed in front of them with a new mission request.
It seemed as if the man knew exactly where he was going to be.
At night...Y/N wandered the hall...the ability to exist and not exist took a toll on their body...but the one time they had attempted to drift off to sleep they had dissapeared, stuck in this field...a void, it had taken a long time to crawl back out to the existing world...and after that  they tried to avoid sleep until they couldn’t anymore...collapsing in order to be too exhausted for their devil fruit power to activate.
On this particular night, they had choosen to observe Lucci.
Even while asleep, he remained calm and collected...his arms stuck strictly to his sides, eyes shut...chest rising slowly. Hattori cooed softly in his sleep, perched upon the headboard of Lucci’s bed.
As the sun begin to rise over the edge, Y/N stood, moving to leave the room.
“Seastone cuffs.” Lucci’s deep voice called.
They bristled, hairs on the back of their neck raising in surprise.
“Sorry...what?” Y/N asked.
Lucci’s eyes remained close but his chest moved at a faster rate.
“Seastone cuff’s. just put one on...it will negate your ability, but not leave you weakened enough to be a lump of mush.” Lucci said quietly.
The next night...Y/N followed Lucci’s instructions...
When early morning training began, Y/N hadn’t shown up. Lucci went off in search of the young recruit.
Knocking on the door, he waited for the recruit to open the door...but the sound of soft snores greeted him..and Lucci decided to leave you to rest in peace for the first time in what he presumed was a while.
Jabura
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From the very second you had appeared behind Lucci, Jabra was first...stricken because, nobody can just appear like that...and second...amazed on how useful this little trick would be to annoy everyone else.
After the meeting had finished, and you had returned Hattori to Lucci, Jabura was the very first to offer to show you around and to your room.
Lucci raised an eyebrow at the odd request...and the unusual generosity. Not wanting to lose this valuable member so soon...but neverthe less allowed Jabura to show you around.
Jabura kept it simple. Training grounds...Kitchen...Spandam’s room, and finally leading you to your own room.
You thought he was going to dismiss you and leave, but when he follwed you into your room, you crossed your arms.
“You obviously want something.” You said.
Jabura let out a chuckle.
“That devil fruit power of yours is pretty great and all...but have you ever thought of using it for the greater good?” A dark smile appeared on his face.
You couldnt help but return the smile.
“And what would this so called greater good be called?”
And that was very simply that...the two of you became thicker then theives. The two of you constantly plotting amongst each other to scare the others.
Scaring Kaku coming back from training, by popping your head through a wall.
Startling Blueno as you rose up from the floor.
Dropping from the cieling to scare Kumadori and Fukuro.
Jabura was always there to catch the startled faces that appeared on the surprised faces.
The best was always Spandam though...during a meeting, you would simply appear behind him, happily announcing your prescence as he lept 5 feet in the air.
But when night came around and everyone turned in...it left you behind. As everyone drifted off to sleep you were left, wandering the halls, reading books, making things in the kitchen...never finding the sweet peacful sleep you so desperatly wished for.
So you found yourself visiting the other members during the night hours, watching over your newfound teamates, and dare you say friends...
Jabra was the lightest sleeper.
He always sensed when you came into his room...he didn’t question it, but he was still curious.
One morning...Lucci had dissapeared during early morning training, and you werent anywheres in sight. Not that he was worried. But just to make sure, he went off in pursuit to find you.
Instead he found Lucci walking away from your door.
The two passed by each other quietly, and Lucci turned down the hall just as Jabura turned into your room.
You were asleep...pretty hard too, your hair was tangled and messed up, blankets tossed around...and one seastone cuff glittered upon your arm.
Jabura put the piece together pretty quickly. And he decided to take a seat...
This time he would turn the tables and watch over you...
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theshatteredrose · 4 years
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Turquoise Lotus Father (Treasure Seekers Saga 2) - Chapter 13 - Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction
AN: Hope everyone is staying safe and at home, and I hope this chapter will prove to be a distraction during these crazy and fearful times. Enjoy reading~
Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet
Chapter 13:
“Are you sure you’re up for this? You still look pale.”
Drayce paused at the steps that led into the Council Building and turned to give Blayke his attention. Ever the worry-wort, Blayke looked at him with a frown on his lips and a concern furrowed of his brow.
In all honesty, Drayce didn’t feel the greatest. He slept surprisingly well, hadn’t awoken once. It was likely due to the fact that Zohar had kept watch over him, which wasn’t as awkward as it probably should have been. But he still felt a little bit nauseous and had a headache from hell. Both side-effects of that sleeping tonic or whatever that was used on him last night.
But he needed to tell Ramus what had happened to the token and how they were robbed. And if Drayce himself didn’t go to inform him, then the little prince would just worry needlessly.
“I’m all right,” Drayce managed a reassuring smile. “Just a little tired due to…whatever they used on me last night. It’s quite potent. As if they have a botanist on their side as well.”
If it was at all possible, the frown on Blayke’s lips deepened. “I see…”
“I’m just glad they didn’t go after Faelen or Caelem again,” Drayce continued as he turned and moved toward the stairs. He, however, shot a grin over his shoulder at Blayke. “Besides, you pulled an all-nighter, too.”
Blayke snorted lightly. “I still don’t look like shit like you do.”
“Rude.”
Mid way up the stairs, Drayce paused again and turned to Blayke with a request in mind. “Hey, Blayke, don’t mention to Ramus what happened to me in the library last night. I don’t want to worry him.”
Blayke took a moment to consider that and finally uttered a sigh. “Fine.”
‘But if it happened again’ was left unsaid. But Drayce definitely heard it in his head, in Blayke’s voice and all. And Drayce hoped that it indeed didn’t happen again. But…if it had to, for whatever reason, he hoped that it happened to him, and no one else of his guild.
They fell into silence as they made their way up the grand stairs of the Council Hall and entered the foyer. Once more, there were a throng of explorers lining up to speak with Ramus, the prince dutiful as ever.
Remembering Ramus’ request to not bother to waste time in lining up, and ignoring the side-eyes of annoyance from explorers in said queue, the two of them skipped to the front. And immediately gained the young prince’s attention.
“Ah, you’re back,” Ramus greeted them with a smile, somewhat surprised to see them again so quickly. But he seemed pleased to see them nonetheless. Yet, his smile dimmed significantly as a flicker of concern appeared in his eyes. “…Is there something wrong?”
“Oh, just a long night,” Drayce instinctively responded as managed a smile in an attempt to ease the prince’s concerns. “Nothing to worry about. “
Blayke side-eyed him before he turned his full attention toward Ramus. “We need to have another little…chat. If you’re not busy.”
“Of course not,” Ramus immediately replied as he motioned toward the hall leading to his office. “Come.”
The path to Ramus’ office was taken in silence once more. And the scene of them as they shuffle in, taking seats before the large oak desk, and Ramus shutting the door quietly was becoming increasingly familiar, too.
“I assume that something…untoward happened?” Ramus asked as he took a seat at his desk, much like he had done yesterday.
Blayke roughly folded his arms across his chest as he decided to take the lead for this conversation. “I’ll explain it as frankly as possible.”
He then promptly launched into a short, precise near rant about what had occurred in the library last night. He kept his word, thankfully, about not telling Ramus about how Drayce was also…attacked (for a lack of a better word). Or how he was still feeling the effects of the sleep tonic or poison that they used on him.
As Blayke finished his explanation, Ramus nodded his head quietly. And the expression of worry on his face was quite obvious.
“That’s…unsettling,” he murmured.
Blayke managed to stifle the desire to snort, and instead nodded his head as he leaned back into his chair. “No kidding.”
Ramus’ gaze trailed down to stare at the top of his desk as he folded his hands idly in front of him. “These bandits are proving to be quite dangerous,” he said after a moment of silence. “I will ask the guards to keep a look out for them.”
“That may cause them to take even more drastic actions,” Blayke was quick to point out.
The frown on Ramus’ lips deepened and he nodded his head slowly. “That’s true…though, we simply cannot let them run amok within the city’s limits so freely. Though…they do have free range, as they say, within the labyrinths.”
That was true. The guards of the city couldn’t patrol every nook or corner of the labyrinths. And the official way to the third floor hadn’t even been discovered yet. Intrepid and inquisitive explorers would know more about the halls of the labyrinths than the guards who are confined to rules and regulations.
And it was difficult to prove events or even crimes that occurred with no willing witnesses.
After a moment of contemplative silence, Ramus shook his head as if to clear it. And lifted his gaze from his desk to turn toward Drayce. “Do you mind if I ask how your research of this Turquoise Lotus Father is going?”
Well, that was his cue to get involved in the conversation!
“Ah, we’ve found a few pieces of information. And there’s a few individuals involved.”
Drayce took a second or two to practically gather his wits despite the thumping headache and actually remember all the pieces of information that both Shashi and Caelem had reiterated to him. And then he had to think of the best method to explain all of that to Ramus.
“Turquoise Lotus Father created the weapon known as Shining Lotus in order to enter the Legendary War because his brother, known as Blood Lotus Brother, had been possessed by a dangerous blade known simply as Cursed Blade. We don’t know who created this Cursed Blade or why it forced him to fight alongside The Despot. But from what we can deduce, Turquoise Lotus Father achieved his goal of freeing his brother, but the Cursed Blade still existed. The Blade Brothers and their close friend, a therian known as Sorataki, helped them to hide the blade to prevent another from being possessed by it. However, there is a fourth party involved. Another who was jealous of the Shining Lotus and wants to gain control over the Cursed Blade. From what we understanding, they also hid the Shining Lotus and left clues behind for future generations to uncover should the Cursed Blade ever awaken again.”
Ah…Yeah, he was pretty sure that was everything!
Wow, talk about a word vomit, huh?
Ramus fell silent as he tried to take all the information in. It took him a few moments as, really, there was a lot to digest. And with four individual parties potentially involved (perhaps even more), there were a lot of factors to take into consideration, too.
“And those bandits are after the Cursed Blade?” Ramus finally asked cautiously with a slight frown. “So why are they collecting the tokens?”
Drayce shook his head. That was a very good question. And the fact that they were involved made the entire thing far more complicated and confusing.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he replied. “I’m fairly confident that the clues we’ve discovered are meant to lead us to the Shining Lotus. And yet, they also seem to be indicating the Cursed Blade.”
Ramus gave a slow nod of his head before a curious expression flickered across his face. “Perhaps it depends on the intention of those who discover the clues?”
“That’s…possible,” Drayce murmured.
Like with how the Moon Legacy was created with good intentions only for those good intentions to become lost to time. Perhaps the brothers and their friend believed that the treasure chest with the map would remain in the hands of dedicated ancestors, only for the true reason to be forgotten. Or even stolen.
He hadn’t considered that possibility. He would need to speak with Shashi about it when he returned to the Crescentia.
“I’m afraid I am unable to offer you much assistance this time round,” Ramus went on to say with genuine regret in his voice. “The records of the Legendary war are quite ancient and I’m ashamed to admit, that even we are missing many a piece. I scarcely found any information on my ancestor’s trusted generals.” He shook his head, truly disappointed as his gaze downcast toward his desk once more. “It’s shameful.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Drayce immediately said in an attempt to reassure the prince. “It’s been a thousand years. And well we’re here now. We might be able to fill in the missing pieces.”
Ramus lifted his gaze and looked toward Drayce. A small smile made its way to him lips as he nodded. “Hmm. It seems that your library has far greater resources than the one we have here at the council.”
Drayce returned the smile with a playful one of his own. “Honestly, I have no idea what we actually have in that library of mine.”
Ramus continued to look at Drayce for a while, his gaze studying him. A very light furrow appeared upon his brow. But that was soon lifted and an expression of regal politeness made its way on his features once again.
However, there was a sense…of worry in his gaze.
“…You’ve been working hard,” he said, his gaze trained completely upon Drayce. “I understand your determination to put an end to this, but…take care of yourself.”
Drayce felt a sense of guilt appear in the centre of his chest. But he quickly squashed as he focused on smiling reassuringly at Ramus once again. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
Ramus’ face was passive, but his gaze remained the same. And he didn’t appear entirely convinced. Drayce must look as washed-out as he felt. He…would have to try harder next time. If there was a next time, of course.
“We should get going,” Blayke was the one to state, prompting putting an end to both the conversation and Ramus’ inspecting, worried gaze toward Drayce.
“Yes, I imagine you have some…planning to do,” Ramus agreed as he pushed back his chair and took to his feet to do his duty of holding the door for them.
Drayce took to his feet, too. Purposely moving at his usual pace and ignored the way his head spun ever so slightly from the sudden movement. “We’ll be sure to inform you immediately should anything else happen,” he promised before he and Blayke bid their farewells and left the office.
As they headed down the stairs and past the still rather impressive queue of explorers and locals alike, Blayke suddenly grasped Drayce by the shoulder. Drayce had thought it was because he wanted his attention. But it was likely because he also missed a step on the stairs, his head still annoyingly spinning.
“He’s observant,” he said.
“Yeah,” Drayce murmured around a sigh as he touched his forehead tiredly. “So much for not worrying him.”
As they walked toward the carriage boarding area located outside the Council Hall, Drayce suddenly remembered something he deemed important. And since they were out and about, they might as well add a little errand to their schedule.
“Wait,” Drayce said as he and Blayke headed toward an empty carriage. “We need to head to the market place and get some more Ariadne Threads. For just in case something like yesterday happens again.”
Blayke looked mildly annoyed, obviously feeling fussy and just wanted to get Drayce somewhere he deemed safe. Yet, he also saw merit in the minor detour. “Fine. I’ll go in,” he said as he pushed Drayce to the carriage door. “You stay here with the carriage. You’re still too pale looking.”
“Ah, I’m fine,” Drayce instinctively replied as he took his seat on one side of the carriage. “I’m feeling better than I did this morning, I promise.”
Blayke didn’t verbally reply to that, however the look he gave him spoke volumes. It was a look that Drayce had seen multiple times in his life. A look that stated that while he didn’t feel like arguing, he believed that he was right. And would argue if he had to.
And, honestly, Drayce didn’t feel like getting into a sparring match with the other. Besides, Blayke would feel better if he could just be all protective and such.
“Alright, you worry-wart, I’ll stay put,” Drayce relented as he settled into his seat.
Blayke soon directed the driver toward the market area of the city before he climbed in himself. He promptly sat on the other side of the carriage. The carriage soon moved into motion and as they rumbled along the stone-cobbled streets, Drayce reached into the pocket of his trousers to pull out some money.
He thankfully had the habit of keeping a few en in his pockets for such occasions. In addition to the money for the carriage ride, of course.
The carriage soon pulled up toward the entrance of the market place. And Blayke once again gave him a stern look.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
Drayce stifled a chuckle. If he didn’t know his best friend as well as he did, that could have been taken as a threat. “And I’ll be right here,” he promised as he handed him the money necessary.
As Blayke slipped out of the carriage, pausing only a moment to tell the driver to wait for him, Drayce leaned his head back against the head support of his seat. He heard the door of the carriage close and the sound of footsteps outside.
After that, he began to idly listen to the incoherent murmurings of voices of others going about their business outside. The noise was comforting in a way, and yet it also agitated his headache.
Man…whatever that harbinger used on him last night was potent. He also couldn’t help but feel that he had done something similar to that a few times before. The chloroform or whatever it was he used was far too potent to have been done once or twice. It was crafted to perfection. Not only did it render a person unconscious almost immediately, it reduced them to near-complete helplessness for hours afterwards.
Seriously, he had to make sure no one else came into contact with that…toxin.
Drayce was confused when he heard the door swing open and felt the weight of the carriage shift not long after Blayke had left. He was even more confused when the weight seemed to be leaning toward the other door.
He lifted his head up and opened his eyes. “Hm? You’re back early-”
However, instead of appearance of Blayke greeting him, there was another. Someone he could have done without seeing ever again. Long brown hair, an eye-patched, dressed in the garbs of a dragoon.
“Well, if it isn’t the Pretty Boy Treasure Hunter.”
Drayce reacted by slamming his back against his seat in an attempt to get away from the other man. “You…”
“It must be my lucky day,” Keane grinned as he lounged all-too comfortably in the carriage seat across from him.
“Pity I can’t say the same,” Drayce bit out before he had a chance to consider his actions.
“Now, that’s just mean, don’t you think?” Keane all but cooed at him.
“You would know a lot about that, am I right?” Drayce returned swiftly. “Like those two bandits of yours that followed me in the labyrinth the other day. And broke into my guildhouse.”
Keane gave a short, sharp laugh. “My, are you bitter about that?”
“Exceptionally so.” Drayce mustered up a glare, though he wasn’t entirely sure how…effective it was with him still combating the side-effects of whatever it was that was used against him last night. “There was no need to take a guildmate hostage.”
“The method is inconsequential when the end result is the desired one,” Keane responded and literally waved his hand dismissively. He soon dropped his hand to his knee casually as he leaned forward slightly, only to stare straight into Drayce’s eyes. “Besides, that's what you get for trying to deceive me.”
Drayce gritted his teeth. So, what happened last night was in response to the switching of the tokens. “…What do you want?”
Keane tapped his cheek in a mocking attempt to appear contemplative. “Oh, where should I start? Maybe I should start with you.”
He then suddenly reached forward to snared a hold of Drayce’s chin. But his grip was cold, harsh, and the first thing that raced through Drayce’s mind that it was nothing like the tender touch of Zohar’s hand.
So, he reacted by immediately slapping the hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Far from angry or even agitated, Keane actually looked sadistically delighted by his reaction. “A feisty one, hmm~”
Feisty? Probably not. Disgusted? Definitely.
“Why are you after the lotuses?” he demanded.
Keane tilted his head to the side. “Hmm? Well now, I don’t give information away for free. You need to pay the fee first.”
Yeah, he had figured as much. Bandits wouldn’t do anything without a price. “Then forget it. I’ll find out on my own.”
“Oh, so cruel,” Keane mockingly purred. “I would have told you for a kiss.”
Drayce instantly felt queasy at the prospect. The clenching of the stomach type of nausea. It was…something he had never really experienced before. It was unsettling. “I’m even more determined to do it on my own now,” he managed to bite out.
Keane laughed. Not a joyful laugh by any stretch of the imagination. It was mocking, almost spiteful. A twisted grin appeared on his lips as he rested an arm on his knee and leaned forward. “But you’re not on your own, are you?”
Drayce didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Even as Keane stood up to lean over him, planting a hand against the wall of the carriage behind him, causing Drayce subconsciously sunk into his seat in a futile attempt to put some distance between them.
“You have others to worry about,” Keane continued. “Weaknesses.”
Drayce gritted his teeth. “Get out.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Keane smirked, knowing full well that he hit a nerve. “Before that, listen carefully;”
Keane unexpectedly lashed out and pressed his hand against Drayce’s throat. His fingers wrapped around his neck as he pushed him back harshly into the seat behind him. Drayce’s hands immediately flew up to grasp at Keane’s wrists and he clenched his jaw painfully as he peered at him through one eye. That nausea returned when Keane moved his face toward his, that obnoxious and yet still menacing smirk on his lips.
“If you don’t want others to get hurt, you’ll hand over the map.”
Drayce squeezed his eyes shut when he realised that he couldn’t breathe properly. Mercifully, Keane released his grip on his throat and Drayce began to cough harshly as he held his neck with his hands.
The carriage shifted to the side as Keane thankfully stepped out into the street.
“I’ll be seeing you later then,” he said, that arrogant smirk of his in place before he slammed the carriage door shut.
Drayce starred through the small glass window as Keane walked away, toward some back alley located near the markets. His back was straight, his posture relaxed and somehow incredibly smug. He definitely looked pleased with him.
The door located on the other side of the carriage opened and as the weight shifted to indicated that someone else had entered, Drayce snapped his head around. Half expecting to see another bandit.
Thankfully, it was Blayke. And Drayce uttered a sigh of relief as he continued to rub his neck.
As Blayke took a seat, he turned to face him. His mouth was open, no doubt ready to tell Drayce that he had gotten the Ariadne Threads. But he stilled, and his brow soon furrowed deeply. “What? What happened?” he practically demanded.
“Let’s…just head to the Crescentia,” Drayce managed to utter, though his voice was surprisingly hoarse.
Blayke was having none of his dismissiveness, however. “What happened?” he actually demanded.
Drayce sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He was already anticipating yet more fussing when he returned to the Crescentia. “Keane just paid me a visit.”
“What?!”
The volume of Blayke’s voice did little to help with Drayce’s headache.
“He didn’t do anything,” Drayce replied, though that was a bold-face lie. And Blayke probably knew it from the paleness of his face in contrast to his throat. There was likely to be a handprint there, too. “But he’s after the lotuses all right. Why, I don’t know. Let’s…just go home.”
Blayke, of course, wanted to know more. Every little detail. But Drayce found himself becoming lost to his own thoughts. Especially in regards to that not-so subtle threat of Keane’s. He wanted the map. And he expected Drayce to just hand it over. Yet, that threat…he was going to force him into giving up the map, wasn’t he?
He didn’t know why Keane was after the tokens, or the lotuses, but he couldn’t allow that lowly bandit to get his hands on such treasures. But he…also couldn’t allow Keane to hurt anyone. Especially not someone from his guild.
A material treasure wasn’t worth that of a living being. His grandfather would always say that. But that Dark Blade. Someone like Keane shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it.
…What should he do?
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