#like invade a high security building all by her damn self

[gaal-dornick]

nile is as much of a one woman army as andomache andy old as balls the scythian is, from day one even. she’s just good like that.

[the-mirror-witch]

Violet Eyes

Maleficent could feel a headache coming on, pressure building in the front of her skull. Could anything else possibly go wrong? There had been four border disputes in the past month alone. More and more humans were becoming misguidedly brave enough to venture into the Valley of Thorns to seek the magic that was embedded into the very soil of the land. Nevermind the Treaty Maleficent herself had signed centuries prior after the last Dark War. Humans were such fickle creatures with poor memory.

Many of the fae in her court wanted to go to war. Had Maleficent been a few hundred years younger, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have cursed entire villages with a flick of her hand, making the sleeping curse she was most famous for look like a simple magic trick, running the risk of Overbloting easily as she once often did. However, Maleficent was older and wiser and, most importantly, tired of war. For centuries she fought a never-ending conflict. She had signed that infernal treaty that was certainly beneath her only so her battle-weary soldiers could finally return to their homes. Now, Maleficent had a fondness for peace. Now, not only was she a mother, but a grandmother. The thought of her young Malleus engaging in such brutality that is war was enough to give her pause.

“Tullius,” Maleficent called, knowing the bird-like fae wasn’t too far away. Even when she couldn’t see him, she knew he was near. The damned, darling bird was convinced that he was her shadow.

“Yes, my Queen?”

Sure enough, there he was, leaping down from the rafters where he had been perched. Maleficent leaned back against her throne, allowing her back to slouch. She rubbed her forehead. Tullius was by her side in an instant, his brow furrowed in concern. Of course, he knew what was ailing her. He had witnessed that circus of a court meeting that had just adjourned. She had even dismissed Malleus, a true sign that she was in a foul mood.

“Tell me what you desire my Queen, and I shall make it so,” Tullius said. Bless his feathered soul.

“I’m in need of a soothing melody,” Maleficent said. “Fetch Lilia for me. His lullabies never fail.”

Tullius nodded, “Of course. I shall fetch him from the border.”

Maleficent, who had closed her eyes, snapped them open, “The border? Is he on patrol tonight? I was under the impression that he was in the castle.”

“It is of no consequence, my Queen. If it is your will, he shall be here within the hour.”

Maleficent frowned. Was she so unfocused that she couldn’t remember the whereabouts of one of her most loyal knights and dearest friend? Was she that old?

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. With a swift, rhythmic knock on the thorn embroidered doors, Lilia himself pried them open.

“Greetings, your Malevolent-ness! I do hope you haven’t missed me too severely.”

Maleficent smiled tiredly. Ah, there was the cheeky little bat. He was lucky she was so fond of him. If she wasn’t, she surely would have locked him away centuries ago.

“On the contrary, I seem to have barely missed your absence.”

Lilia, true to form, gasped in the most overdramatic manner he knew. The back of his hand pressed against his forehead, he moaned, “Oh, how you wound me. My unbeating heart can’t stand it. I fear I may never recover.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Maleficent drawled, to which Lilia giggled.

Lilia floated into the room, his arm wrapped securely around…

“Lilia, what is that?” She asked.

In his arm was a bundle of baby blue blankets. Something akin to horror settled in her stomach. He didn’t.

“Oh, this little owl?” Lilia looked down at the bundle as if surprised.

Please be an owl, please be an actual owl or Guivre help her.

“It is my pleasure to announce the arrival of Silver,” Lilia declared as he revealed the sleeping face of a human baby in his arms.

Tullius fainted.

“LILIA VANROUGE!”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Tell me this is a jest,” Maleficent steamed, flames of green bursting to life behind her throne. Lilia appeared to be unconcerned. “This had better be a very poor jest. You better not tell me that you stole a human child when we are one disruption away from all-out war.”

Lilia tilted his head, “...Okay, I won’t tell you then.”

“LILIA! TELL ME RIGHT NOW!”

“All these conflicting orders are giving me whiplash,” Lilia sighed, that insolent little bat.

“Lilia, there are more proficient and less law-breaking ways to have a child than kidnapping one.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Maleficent had enough. She stood up, allowing her leathery wings to flare out behind her in a dreadful display. She was one poorly thought out sentence away from fully transforming into her draconic self, and that was a situation that would not end well for anyone.

Lilia seemed to have gotten the hint, “Your highness, I did not steal the child. He was with a band of foolish humans who slipped past the borders. Once the transgressors were dealt with, this little one was found sound asleep in a basket.”

Maleficent calmed down, folding her wings and allowing her flames to die out. Well, at least her people couldn’t be faulted if the human party had already crossed the border.

“Why would invading humans travel with an infant?” Tullius asked, having recovered enough to stand up, somewhat unsteadily.

An excellent question. One that would have to be set aside.

“Lilia, listen to me well,” She said. “The human cannot remain here. You shouldn’t have brought it in the first place.”

Lilia tilted his head, eyes cold, “...Should I have dealt with him with the same mercilessness shown to his companions?”

“Lilia, it will not survive here. Dispose of it quickly.”

It was a much kinder fate. Humans were not meant for the Valley of Thorns.

Then, Lilia did not fail to surprise her. He floated up to her, without an ounce of fear, and placed the babe in her startled hands. It squirmed in her arms.

“The insolence!” Tullius looked to be one transgression away from attacking Lilia.

“My Queen,” Lilia began. “I have done nothing but serve you loyally and without question for most of my immortal existence. I shall continue to serve your memory long after this world has been burnt to ashes. I have never asked anything of you in all my years of service, despite your many offerings. However, I’m afraid this is an order I must decline. I do not have it in my heart to slay this poor child after I have held him so close to me. If he must be snuffed out, then let it not be by my hand. If he must die, let it be from yours.”

“Lilia Vonrouge, you go too far,” Tullius yelled, the feathers around his face puffing out in indignation. “You presume too much, to make demands of the Queen.”

Maleficent was sure that he continued to lecture the little vampire, but Lilia paid him no mind. His dark red eyes were focused solely on her, waiting.

She looked down at the sleepy little creature. She almost huffed a laugh. Silver indeed. Lilia was very unoriginal if he could not think of a better way to name a child than after the color of their hair. Like woven moonlight, thin strands of silver hair covered the babe’s head. He was a few months old at the most, practically the life of an insect. It yawned, it’s eyes opening as if it pained the creature to awaken.

Violet eyes stared up at her. She knew those eyes. A memory from long ago crept upon her, unwanted for the pain it brought. A girl with similar eyes stared at her through the child, smiling a gentle smile that could bring the cruelest of creatures to salvation.

Hello, beasty, Maleficent thought sadly.

“My Queen, if it pleases you, I would be more than willing to dispose of the human,” Tullius offered.

Maleficent sighed, “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“But, my Queen-”

“Silence, Tullius.”

His mouth clamped shut audibly.

Slowly, Maleficent handed the child back to Lilia. Lilia happily took the child back, looking down at the child with such tenderness. Ah, what a powerful little human. Lilia had only held him for a few hours, and already he was at the child’s mercy.

“A human child is very different from a draconic one, Lilia,” Maleficent said. “It will not be the same as the times you cared for Malleus.”

“I am well aware, Lady Draconia,” Lilia said, his teasing smile returned in full force.

“He must be fed regularly,” Maleficent continued. “He will require constant attention.”

“He shall have mine, undividedly,” Lilia assured her.

Maleficent dismissed him. As he floated away, Lilia glanced back over his shoulder, “Oh, before I forget, how should I teach him to address you? Fairy Grandmother or Queen Granny?”

Oh, spare her.

“Watch his head,” Maleficent said in lieu of responding.

Lilia, curse him, laughed.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Incubus”

Incubus is a special type of metahuman that can enter people’s mind and the only one known to possess such abilities is Y/N. Captured by an underground agency and forced to obey orders, she has a new task today: to get inside The Joker’s head and find out where he stashed half a billion dollars after he pulled what everybody calls “the heist of the century”.

“Regression will begin shortly,” one of the doctors announces on the intercom. “Prepare for countdown.”

You lay on the cold metal table next to the Joker’s body: he’s medicated into a dreamless sleep, ready to have you purge his mind for the answer to the burning question: where did he stash half a billion dollars?

After being arrested two weeks ago, The King of Gotham refused to speak and disclose any information to the authorities; they tried everything: drugs, blackmail, best intimidation tactics and psychologists without success.

J didn’t crack.

Fed up with the puzzling mystery, CIA decided to use the top secret research facility operating under the grid where the infamous Incubus is held prisoner.

“A few reminders,” the flat voice echoes in the sealed laboratory. “Do not attempt to elude us, we have your little girl! If you aim to play us we’ll revoke visiting time.”

You blankly stare at the ceiling, upset they repeat the same rules when you’re forced to use your powers; the 15 minutes you’re allowed to spend with Mia on Saturdays is all you live for since they incarcerated both of you six months ago.

How you wish you could kill them but they found a solution to prevent you from rebelling.

“Please note that in case you plan to get inside our brains and compel us to stop breathing, your daughter will die. Confirm acknowledgement.”

“Confirm,” you bitterly reply because it hurts to have your child endangered; you could end them right this moment if it wasn’t for her.

Unfortunately, they found a way to subdue your terrific ability: the crew assigned to project Incubus carries portable heart monitoring devices 24/7; they resemble wrist watches and if just one individual’s pulse deactivates, it will set of the explosive in Mia’s collar. The 5 years old has no clue that what she believes to be a cute necklace is actually a device meant to eradicate her.

“Countdown to regression,” the clinician reports and the speakers carry his words around the room. “Five, four, three, two, one. Initiate!”

**************

You walk in the darkness, surprised you didn’t bump into memories yet: usually that’s the first thing you stumble upon when invading a person’s subconscious. He’s been under your spell for 10 minutes now and the void proves his twisted mind is probably worse than anyone thinks: The Clown is lost in the maze of his own insanity.

A couple more steps and you finally distinguish four doors ahead which means you’ll be able to analyze The Joker’s recollections.  

First Door

The little boy cries in the middle of the room and you slowly approach, wondering if you should interfere or just observe. But tears fall from those innocent blue eyes and the fact that he’s maybe your daughter’s age makes you decide.

“Why are you crying?” you kneel by the young Joker and he wipes his face with the sleeves of his raggedy shirt:

“My mommy died.”

“Did she? I’m sorry… Do you miss her?” you manipulate the conversation since warping his thoughts might lead to your quest: discovering where the money is.

“U-hum,” he nods and asks. “I don’t like it at the orphanage, I want to go home…”

“Perhaps I can help,” you pull him in your arms and he whispers:

“Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” Y/N sadly concludes because it doesn’t bring her joy to distort an already broken mind, nevertheless she‘s here bearing a clear purpose. “It’s ok,” you hold the child and soothe him. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

The little boy whimpers, clinging to the stranger showing him kindness then vanishes in thin air: you got rid of a painful memory and replaced it with a nicer one.

Now The Joker will remember that someone comforted him when in reality it never happened.

Second Door

The young man is standing in front of the burning cottage while the firefighters are struggling to put out the blaze. He’s covered in ashes and his lips are barely moving; you can hardly discern what he keeps on repeating:

“They’re still inside… they’re still inside…”

The 24 years old Joker is numb and all you can conclude he seemed so different back in the day.

“Who’s inside?” you inquire and he glimpses your way without realizes he’s in shock.

“My wife and son. I couldn’t save them… I didn’t make it to the second level, the flames were too strong…”

You bend over and grab the blanket resting at his feet, placing it around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry they’re gone, you did everything you could.”

He glares at the Incubus for a split moment before disappearing: you just lift the burden of a horrifying experience and now The Joker will remember that someone offered consolation when in reality it never happened.

Third Door

The man is sitting on the floor with his back against the padded wall, tightly confined inside his straight jacket. He keeps screaming, then maniacally laughing and sobbing in the same time while straining to escape the garment.

“Calm down,” you slide near him. “You’ll hurt yourself if you continue.”

The 27 years old tries to articulate a couple of coherent sounds before reprising his yelling.

“Stop squirming,” you cup his face and make him pay attention. “Look at me. Relax,” you caress his cheeks. “Deep breaths, ok?” you plead with the madman. “Sssttt, it’s fine…” Y/N stares in his eyes and the shouting gradually dies out. “There you go,” you brush your forehead on J’s prior to him fading away: you switched a terrible incident into better conclusion by mimicking sympathy when in reality it never happened.  

Fourth Door

You’re surprised to notice The Joker talking to shadows: a woman and a little girl judging by their silhouettes; he resembles the most wanted criminal lying 10 inches apart from you in the secured establishment pushing you to accomplish their instructions.

A recent memory? Does it mean he has another family?...

You want to come closer and the sight of the contours disappearing is intriguing; The Clown rubs his temples and you can tell he’s distressed.

“What’s going on?” you dig in his brain for responses.

“They took my Queen and my Princess!” he grinds his teeth with resentment.

“Do you know where they are?”

“Yes,” J grumbles and evaporates saying a baffling phrase: ”I have to find the perfect plan in order to reclaim what’s mine!”

So weird the memory dispersed before you misled the truth in your favor … What the heck is going on?!...

The Cell

No rooms left and you stroll in the murkiness again, angry your scheme didn’t lead towards a better result: oddly enough The King of Gotham failed to unveil extra hints that could have aid you in discovering where the fortune he snatched is.

“Hello sugar,” the raspy intonation halts you in your tracks.

Y/N detects the heavy bars forming this square shaped cell containing what she suspects to be a version of The Joker; it’s difficult to restrain her astonishment since she’s witnessing a rare phenomenon: nothing less than a mind prison.

Jackpot! If he buried something deep inside and locked it even from himself it could mean you reached your destination.

“It’s nice to have visitors,” the eerie apparition chuckles. “It gets lonely.”

“I bet,” you pout. “Why don’t you break free?”

He kicks the bars, enraged he has to explain:

“I’m sure a superior creature such as the lady joining me knows a mind prison can only be opened from the outside!”

He’s self-aware! This is absolutely unbelievable: humans are never conscious within the deepest layers of their psyche.

“You are correct: you can only open it from the outside,” you agree. “What’s your name?”

“Joker. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.”

“Duh, I know,” he snickers and lets his tattooed arms hang loose outside the bars. “You have a kid, right?”

He sees your doubt and his gratification builds up to new highs.

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“How do you know it’s a she?!” you counterattack with a quiz.

Damn, this whole charade is getting more and more fascinating by the second!

“I know soooooo many things,” the entity yawns. “For example I’m sure you wonder how I ended up in here.”

No sign you would deny his rambling thus he enlightens the riddle:

“Some are born with certain “gifts”, some develop them after a traumatic experience. I’m the lucky recipient of the latest, although I was locked in here from day one. If I had someone shatter the seal and by someone I mean you,” he points his finger at the smirking Y/N, “I could help you run from the place you hate. Tell me I’m wrong, but aren’t you trapped also?”

“You’re sneaky, I’ll give you that,” you laugh at his attempts to influence your actions.

“And you’re too powerful not to realize what’s going on! Snap out of it!!!” he hisses. “Are you single sugar?” the anger building up makes Y/N frown.

“None of your business!”

“Humor me, I beg,” he emphasizes the words.

“Yes,” you scoff and his demeanor doesn’t lower your guard.

“Are you 100% certain you’re not married?”

“What’s this nonsense?!” you sneer at the stupid conversation.

“Maybe you don’t remember because you created your own mind prison where you chained crucial data in order to protect the ones you love after you were captured. What’s your daughter’s name?” he sulks and you grumble.

“Mia.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am; do you think I don’t know my child’s name?”

“And you think I don’t recognize my own wife standing in front of me??!!!!” he snaps at your hesitation. “Set me free! Set me free and I’ll show you! I can get inside your mind and unlock your cage: you’ll remember everything!”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?!” you growl at the absurd sentences: like his devious tactic would work on you!

“I’m talking to the Incubus, am I not?”

Your mouth opens in amazement since there is no way in hell he could know that.

“Do I have your attention now?” the beast reprimands. “Good! Here’s what you deliberately forgot: nobody knows that we’re married, it’s better that way; yet a woman with your capabilities is bound to attract unwanted attention anyway. When we got together, we had a deal: you’ll never get inside my head and you consented. No? Doesn’t ring a bell?...” he cracks his joints. “After they took you and Emma from me…”

“Who’s Emma?” you interrupt, more and more convinced there’s something fishy happening inside The Joker’s subconscious.

“Our daughter, her name is not Mia, you just replaced it after you were both kidnapped in order to sever all connections with the past. Can’t blame you: it’s a great strategy given the circumstances: create a mind prison, hide everything connected to protect me and her. Last thing you needed was for them to find out we are actually acquainted in the most intimate way. That would have been a disaster! Do you know why I stole half a billion dollars and let them catch me? I knew that if I do that they’ll use everything possible under the sun to make me spill the beans. When all fails, won’t they flaunt the last ace in their sleeve? That’s how I got here sugar, it was the ultimate goal. I can’t function without my girls so I came to get them!”

“Listen here,” your menacing attitude takes over. “Who do you take me for?! Your fictional tale is starting to piss me off so I advise you to quit before I make your neurons crumble to pieces!”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it,” the feral beast sniffs the air. “You always kept your end of the bargain and never got in here before to poke the past. I respect that, sugar. Now I had no choice besides letting you in.”

“Stop it! Stop your lies!! You’re nothing more than a projection of The Joker’s mind!”

“Ahhhh,” the evil grin flourishes behind the silver teeth. “I am so much more than that. Do you want to get out of this facility? I suggest you set me free and I will prove I’m telling the truth!”

“Bullshit! What can you do anyway?! I can kill everyone and run, but my daughter will die!”

“Not if I help: you can make them stop breathing and I could keep the hearts beating until we get the key that unlocks Emma’s collar! It’s a dual team mission.”

“Her name is Mia! How do you know about the collar?!” the dumbfounded Y/N mumbles.

“Weren’t you listening? I know a lot of things!”

“Even if we assume you aren’t lying, how will you keep their hearts beating?!”

“Set me free and I’ll show you! SET. ME. FREE!!!!!! Or we are fucking doomed! Set me free!” he punches the bars. “Set me free and I’ll open your mind prison! You’ll realize each word I uttered is genuine! You’ll remember all of it! SET! ME! FREE!!! What do you have to lose, huh? Nothing! Do it!! Do it!!!!”

“How could you get inside my mind?! I’m a metahuman!”

“Goddamnit! SET ME FREE AND I’ll SHOW YOU!!!!! Do you want your daughter to perish in this place?! Do you???!!!”

You definitely are beyond skeptical; still… at least he’s correct about this: you have nothing to lose; you approach with caution and part the bars enough for the trapped entity to squeeze outside.

“Thank you honey,” he clumsily bows and before you can react he snatches in his arms and kisses you.

Y/N feels this electrifying sensation taking over, stupefied to understand what it means: she just unleashed another Incubus. And she always thought she was the only one!

You gasp for air and open your eyes, processing all the recovered memories rushing through your brain: your own mind prison was opened as promised.

You tilt your head to look at The Clown and he grabs your hand, panting:

“Are you ready sugar?”

**************

People keep falling to the ground, each step bringing you closer to your freedom. Emma’s face is buried in your neck as you jump over corpses on the way out of the underground laboratory:

“No peeking!” The Joker scolds and her little hands hold you tighter while obeying.

“Ok daddy.”

“Don’t be scared,” you kiss her cheek and continue the rampage towards the exit.

Screams intensify around the three detainees escaping their faith: the adults can’t afford any weakness or grant mercy to the ones that showed them none.

In the end, what is more terrifying than one Incubus that could plunge the world into complete darkness?

The answer is simple: two of them.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Bodyguard  -  Three

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky X Politician!Reader

Summary: As a young and controversial politician, you face some opposition. After a death threat is made and your security is at risk, you agree to get a bodyguard. You don’t expect him to be the most irritating and attractive man on the planet. With a history so deep and twisted you never thought you’d figure it out, a terrible corporation is determined to take you out of the political picture; using any means necessary. The only question is, how far is James willing to go to ensure your safety?

Warnings: Angst, Violence, threats, injuries, kidnapping, drugging, political talk (not a lot), terrorism (Wait for the plot twist tho guys), Smut, Fluff, PTSD, (More to Come)

Word Count: 3.5K

A/n: Part three. Oh fucking yeah it’s getting real. hang on to your grandmas cause we’re going for a ride.

BASED OFF OF THE NETFLIX ORIGINAL: BODYGUARD TAGLIST IS OPEN MASTERLIST Part one. Part Two. 

~*~

It’s four weeks after the tea incident that anything remotely related to terrorism happens again.

“Yesterday afternoon, a van loaded with all kinds of explosives, was barreling towards an elementary school downtown. Luckily it was intercepted by armed officials and disengaged. All terrorists involved are now being detained and held for questioning. Secretary of State, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) had this to say on the matter:

‘Yes, we can now confirm that we are a target for a larger scale act of terror. We are considering moving the security advisory from high to severe. We do need more information before anything can be done, though.’”

You exhale deeply and turn off the radio, not wanting to hear your own voice anymore.

“President Pierce recommends sending more American troops out to the Middle East. To… frighten them I suppose. I think that won’t work,” you whisper to Wanda, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“President Pierce wants more American men to give up their lives for a pointless war?” You nod your head yes and massage your temples.

“I think we should take a more diplomatic approach. I mean, we don’t even know if the Middle East has anything to do with it. For all we know, it could be a pissed off group of soccer moms.” You hear a snort and raise your eyes to the source, staring at your bodyguard.

“Is something funny, James?” He shakes his head, face stoic as ever. “No, ma’am.” You sigh and lean back in your chair. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I know sending more people over there won’t help. We need to find a way to actually interrogate these people. Fuck, why does nothing ever work?” You type away at your computer, trying to figure out any pattern between the attacks.

“Sergeant Barnes, who was the man outside my window again?” You ask, not looking up from your computer. 

“Jack Rollins.”

You type the name into a google search and furrow your brows, searching and searching for anything that could be useful.

After nearly a half hour, Wanda excuses herself, leaving you and James in a comfortable silence.

“You haven’t been sleeping much,” he suddenly says, seemingly interested in a magazine.

“No. I haven’t. I could say the same about you, James.” He looks up for a moment then shrugs. “Doing my duties, Ma’am.” You nod then get back to work, trying desperately to find anything that could be helpful.

When alas, you turn up with nothing but a few pictures and the description of a tattoo, you shut your laptop and rub your temples again.

“Fuck, what’s connecting all this? Why doesn’t it make any sense?” You’re talking to yourself, but you know James is listening.

“If I don’t figure out a way to prove that this doesn’t have anything to do with the Middle East, then so many people are going to die.” James scoffs and you look up at him.

“Something funny?” He shakes his head and purses his lips.

“James, I don’t know if you understand the gravity of the situation. Innocent people will die if I don’t figure this out.”

“With all due respect, Ma’am, I lost half my battalion fighting overseas. And my arm. I’m aware of the risks. I know what loss is. What it feels like. I lost friends, brothers, people who I looked at like family. Who treated me like a brother.” He gets progressively closer to you, his chest moving more rapidly now that he’s upset.

You think back to the few times you’ve seen his left arm, pieces of the puzzle clicking together now.

“I lost all these people while fighting a war I didn’t believe in. While fighting a war I didn’t start. That’s all you politicians do. You’re all the same. You start wars that you have no intention fighting in or taking part in, bow your heads during the national anthem to ‘pay respect’ to those who, in all truth, you killed, then do it all over again. You talk about wanting to help people but all you do is hurt and kill and send people to their deaths.”

You back up until you hit the wall, almost afraid of the man in front of you. Almost.

“You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat who gets what she wants by hurting other people. Sometimes, I can’t help but think you deserve this. Maybe I should quit this position. See how you like a taste of having to actually defend yourself for once,” he snarls.

You stare up at him, his words like a harsh slap across the face.

“James, I’m going to say this once and once only. I am not like other Politicians. I am not someone who is unaware of what war brings. I don’t believe in settling things using guns. You’d know that if you knew a damn thing about me. If you paid attention for a single minute.”

You take a few deep breaths then shake your head and scoff, ducking underneath his arm and storming out of your office.

He curses to himself then follows after you, jogging to keep up with your quick pace.

“Wait. I didn’t-” “No!” You spin on your heel and glare up at him.

“You don’t get to say another word! If you don’t care about Politics, fine, don’t. If you don’t agree with my job, fine, don’t. But one thing I refuse to let you do is pretend to know what I do or what I stand for. You clearly don’t keep up with anything political. You want off this job? Fine. You’re off it. I don’t need you. I’ve defended myself just fine for the past five years. I don’t need you and your self-righteous ass trying to tell me what to do.”

You spin back around and nod at the guard at the door, watching as your car pulls up.

“Wait. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. Just hold on a minute, okay?” You glare at him and shake your arm out of his grip.

Right as you take a step towards the doors of the building, everything explodes as a bomb blows up, right where you’re meant to be sitting.

~

You can’t hear.

That’s the first thing you notice.

There’s a high pitched ringing and you can’t hear anything else.

With a great amount of effort, you push yourself into a seated position, coughing as dust and dirt invade your lungs.

Everything rushes back to you, hearing included, and you gasp.

Bomb. The bomb was meant to kill you.

You become aware of someone yelling your name and look up to the source, finding none other than Sergeant Barnes towering over you.

“You’ve gotta get up. We need to get out of here now, before-” a gunshot cuts him off and you can’t help but scream as a receptionist falls dead two feet away from you.

“Fuck,” he curses, looking around. “Come with me, now.” He grabs onto your arm and hoists you to your feet, supporting most of your weight as he runs you through the main floor of the building. Bullets ricochet off of different surfaces, none of them finding your bodies.

“In here, quick,” he pushes you into a washroom and grabs his gun.

“Stay in here, don’t move. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” You nod, whimpering as he leaves the washroom and closes the door.

He stays right outside, firing at the people shooting. He hardly hits any of them before his team is coming to back him up.

Once he’s sure the situation is handled, he opens the bathroom door.

When the door opens you scream and scramble back into the wall, closing your eyes and holding your hands out in front of your face to offer some kind of protection.

“Hey, hey. It’s me. You’re okay. It’s just me.” James crouches down in front of you and wipes some dirt off of your cheek.

“You’re okay. I promise.”

You shake your head and reach for his hand, needing the comforting touch.

“I promise you’re okay. We’ve got those guys in cuffs and on their way down to the station. You’re safe.”

The door opens again and you let out a strangled scream, looking up at the person standing there.

“It’s just Agent Romanoff. Everything will be okay. We’re taking you out of here and to a secure location now. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The woman looks you up and down, her eyes zeroing in on a cut by your hairline.

“She’ll need stitches. The cars are all ready, maximum security. We want you in the back with her. Steve’s driving.” He wants to make a comment about Steve’s driving skills, but he knows now’s not the time.

“Alright. C’mon. We’re gonna go now.” He helps you to your feet and keeps one arm securely around your waist while walking you out of the building.

You can’t really process anything going on around you, only noticing you’re in a car when it starts moving.

“You’re okay. You’re doing great. Just a few more minutes then we’ll be fine. Okay?” You bob your head up and down, eyes unfocused.

“She’s in shock,” Natasha murmurs, watching the two of you in the rearview mirror

“Breathe with me, okay? Just take a few deep breaths with me. You’ll feel so much better. I promise.”

He takes your shaking hand and presses it to his chest, breathing deeply. You try to follow his breathing pattern but only manage a few breaths before coughing and hiccuping.

“Shh. It’s all okay now. I promise. We’re taking you somewhere safe and you’ll be stitched up and back to normal in no time. I swear.” You look to the front and the redhead nods her head in agreement.

“I promise you’re okay, Ma’am,” she says. You look back to the blue-eyed man beside you and take a deep breath.

Right as you feel yourself calming down, a bullet flies through the windows, the crunch of glass and the bang of the bullet doing fuck all to mask your scream of absolute terror.

“Shit! Get down!” The man driving yells.

James is suddenly on top of you, pushing you to the floor as three more bullets fly through the window.

“Stay down! The bullets can get through the window but they can’t pierce the armoured metal!” You grab his shoulders and cling to his body as bullets slam against the metal of the car door.

There are more gunshots, these ones coming from inside the car, and you scream again, holding onto the man above you tighter.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect. Steve back us up about twenty feet. Then I’ll have a clear shot.”

“Nat, our first priority should be getting her out of here. We need to move! Now!” You close your eyes tightly as a bullet flies through the back windshield and embeds in the back of the passenger seat.

“Hang on!” Natasha jumps over both you and James and aims her gun out the window, waiting a moment before shooting. 

When she does pull the trigger though, you know she hit the target. 

“Got him. Now drive! We have no idea if he’s alone or not.” Steve starts driving quickly, navigating through cars and traffic.

“We’ll switch cars with Sam and Clint outside of the city then circle back in to the safe house.” You close your eyes tightly and relax your head back against the floor of the car, trying to block this nightmare out of your mind.

~

You pace around the room, hands trembling beyond belief.

“Ma’am, I need you to sit down.” You glare at James.

“Sit down? You want me to sit down?! I was just shot at! There was a bomb planted in my car, and I was shot at! Don’t tell me to sit down!” He walks to you, his intimidating stature doing little to ease your anxiety.

“I understand that you’re anxious and afraid, but for your own safety and health, you need to sit down.” You shake your head, fingers raking through your hair as tears spill down your cheeks.

“I-I’m not trained to handle being shot at o-or anything like that. You are. Remember that. You trained in the military then in special forces. Y-you know what to do and all those mental exercises. Fuck, I’m just that kid who got pushed off the playground again.”

He sighs deeply and takes your hands in his, pulling them out of your hair and guiding you to sit down on the couch.

“You’re right. But your safety is my main concern. I’m trying very hard to keep a clear head for both of us.” You shake your head a few times, eyes getting glossy.

“Y-you said you wanted me to go through this. Why? Why would you wish such a thing upon a person?” He flinches slightly and sighs. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I know… I know how hard it is to go through shit like this and I was insensitive. And you’re right. I know… nothing about you so I shouldn't have made so many assumptions.

“But what matters now is that you’re safe. This is probably the safest place on earth. We have ‘round the clock supervision, each entrance has three different locks with different passwords, and the entire area is surrounded by undercover squad cars and armed police. Nothing bad will happen to you here.”

Your eyes find his and he’s almost disturbed by how distant they look.

“I was there. On November third. I saw it all. I was in the backseat of the car, on my way home from dance. It wasn’t documented. The police and special forces were quick to pull me from the scene.”

He stares at you in utter and complete shock.

“I remember it all. The blood, the gunshot, the face of the man on the roof. It’s not something you forget. I was screaming and screaming… but no one came to help until the police arrived. It was very important not to document my involvement in order to protect my safety. So from there, I was brought to a safe house for two years. Lived my life out of a closet.”

He feels like absolute shit for everything he’s said and done.

“I’ve… experienced this kind of protesting before. But never directed towards me. So forgive me for being scared.” He looks down, trying to clear his thoughts again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers. You look up in shock, not expecting to hear the raw vulnerable emotions in his voice.

“I’m sorry for everything. For what happened to your father, for what I said and did and assumed, and for everything you’ve had to go through in your life. I’m so fucking sorry for all of it.”

You shake your head and look into his blue blue eyes. “It’s not your fault. And there’s not much you could’ve done to prevent any of it anyway. I just… I feel lost now. And scared and so damn vulnerable. I’m not in control anymore. I’ve lost all my control and I hate it,” you confess, leaning your head against his shoulder against your better judgement.

Right now, all you need is comfort from someone. Anyone. Even your uptight pain-in-the-ass bodyguard.

He hesitates but eventually wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly to his muscular chest. You clutch handfuls of his shirt to your face, shoulders shaking with sobs that are finally breaking free after the long exhausting day you’ve had.

He sighs and presses a soft, almost undetectable kiss to the top of your head, bringing you a sense of peace.

“I’m here. And I promise as long as I’m right here with you, nothing bad will happen. I swear.”

You cry and cry and cry for what feels like hours, holding onto him as if he’s your lifeline; as if you’ll die without him.

And he holds you the entire time, rocking you back and forth and whispering comforting words in your ear.

“You’re okay. I promise you’re okay.” You slowly pull away and look up into his eyes, sniffling slightly.

“How do you know? How can you possibly know that I’ll be alright? What-what if he finds a way in here? O-or what if he’s working with you guys? I… I’m not safe. I’m not safe and people want me dead.”

He cups your cheeks and sighs softly.

“It’s a hard thing to promise, I’ll admit. But as long as I’m with you… I’ll die protecting you. I swear on my life I’ll do everything I possibly can to keep you safe. You… you don’t deserve this stuff. And I’ll do everything I can to help you. You are my number one priority.” You notice how he doesn't say ‘your safety’ and you can’t help but shiver.

“Cold?” You shrug, looking down to your lap.

“Here, let’s bring you to the bedroom. You’re probably exhausted.” You nod and let him help you to your feet, leaning into his touch as he ushers you through the safehouse and to the bedroom.

“The, uh, the bathroom’s through there if you want to shower. There are some clothes that probably won’t fit you in the dresser, and towels in the bathroom closet. Stark has a cleaning crew come every two weeks so everything should be clean and perfect.”

You head to the bathroom then hesitate at the door.

“I… I... “ He walks to you and takes your hand, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Anything you want, (Y/n).” You shiver as he uses your first name. “Can you stay in there with me, please? I know… it’ll be awkward and weird, but I’m just… I’m scared. And I don’t want to be alone.” His expression softens and he nods.

“Of course.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and walk into the bathroom after him.

He does a quick check of the room then nods at you.

“I’ll… I’ll face the door while you change and shower. But I swear I’ll stay here as long as you want me to.” You nod and watch as he turns around.

You turn the water on, then take off your dirty clothes. As you peel off the remainder of your clothes, James can’t help but glance at you in the mirror, his eyes roaming your figure for a moment.

You look like an angel.

You step into the water and sigh as its warmth heats your skin.

Your shower is long and comforting and everything you need at this moment. ANd you can’t help but be a little upset at having to get out. But the cold water is less than inviting.

“James?” You ask, peeking your head around the shower curtain and looking to where he stands, back facing you.

“Yes?” His eyes flash to yours in the mirror and you shiver at the intensity of his gaze.

“Could you grab me a towel please?” He nods, opens the closet door, and grabs a fluffy white towel. You turn the water off and glance back over to him, eyebrows raising in surprise as he holds to towel open for you.

Too tired and mentally drained to question it, you step out of the water and smile softly as he wraps the towel around your body. 

Did he steal another glance at your body? Absolutely. 

Do you really care? No. Not at all.

He helps you out of the bathroom and stands by the bedroom door, back to you as you get dressed into a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top.

“I really don’t want to overstep… but could you maybe stay with me tonight?” He spins on his heels, a fire in his eyes as he takes in your frame and how fragile you look right now.

He nods, watching as you climb onto the queen-sized bed and tuck yourself under the covers.

He climbs cautiously onto the bed with you, eyes focused on yours as he crawls underneath the blankets.

He’s so close you can feel the heat coming off of him. It’s comforting and grounding.

“Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes flutter closed, the sheer exhaustion of the day almost crippling you.

“Don’t thank me, (Y/n). I’d do anything for you.” Your heart flutters and you open your eyes for a moment, reaching over to him and resting your hand against his cheek for a moment before lowering your hand and holding his.

“Goodnight, James.” Your eyes close again and you sigh softly ready for sleep.

The last thing you hear, however, is a soft “goodnight, (Y/n). Sweet dreams.”

And then you drift off to sleep, nightmares never finding you.

~*~

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[tk-writer]

Ticklish, kitten? - Ace Attorney [Mia/Godot]

oh look a random fic where i self projected lksfjghksj dont look at me

WARNING: contains Ace Attorney spoiler for the trilogy!!

word count: 2199

~~~

Mia Fey flicked on the lights as soon as she entered her empty condo.

Home, at last. A sigh escaped her smudged red lips as she finally felt solace for the first time since 5 AM that morning. Her heels were off in a matter of milliseconds; she was thankful to have some relief after being on her feet for nearly sixteen hours. The court had shown no mercy that day, not even to a novice like her. Not that she had expected any differently.

However, the trial was the last thing on her mind.

She glanced around her dimly lit living room. The emptiness that echoed back was deafening, shoving a reminder of her constant solitude in her face. Normally she wouldn’t care of such trivial matters; she was a woman who enjoyed her privacy and independence, after all.

But things were different now. Now that she had met him.

She made her way to the bathroom, leaving her confining work clothes behind in absent-minded piles on the oak wood floors. I’ll pick them up later, I swear, she lied to herself. She stood in the hot water and let it roll over her weary skin, thankful to feel something after what felt like a lifetime of depravity. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed. She didn’t get out until her skin was flushed red and on the verge of blistering.

She slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a T shirt. Chuckling inwardly, she wondered what her colleagues would think if they saw her dressed in such a way. Mia didn’t step foot outside unless she was donned in designer wear, no matter if she was inside or outside the court. It was just who she was, or at least the image she had created for herself.

No one saw her after hours, when the lights were low and the darkness invaded. Nobody knew of her nightly routine, which consisted of hunching over a half-filled coffee mug and a thick file of court papers until the wee hours of the morning, an amalgamate of decaf medium roast and milk and tears.

Nobody ever did.

Until now.

An uproarious buzz jolted her out of her headspace and back to reality. She furrowed her brows, wondering who the hell would pay a visit at such a late hour. She stood up and walked to the front, punching the display button on her security screen a little too hard.

“Hey, kitten.”

An arrogant, pearly white smile gazed back at her from the outside camera. Mia’s entire body tensed. For a moment she stayed frozen, unsure of which action to take. She had never expected him to come, especially not this late. He was still dressed in his suit; he must have come directly from his office. That was so much like him to work this late, even on a weeknight.

“Mr. Armando? Sorry, but what the hell are you doing here exactly? Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course. I’m simply checking in on my protégé. Wanted to make sure my apprentice was doing alright after getting chewed up and spit out in court today.”

Irritation coursed through her veins, but she sighed when she realized he was right. No use getting angry at the truth.

“So, are you going to let me in?”

She said nothing at first, peering down at her frumpy pajamas and her bare feet. Without looking in the mirror she knew her eyes were red and strained from the past hour or so of crying. There was no way she wanted Diego Armando to witness her in such a state.

“Now’s not really a good time.”

He put his hands in his pockets and exhaled deeply. She knew he hated being rejected, but he wasn’t the aggressive type. At least not behind closed doors. At least not with her.

Perhaps that’s why she liked him so much.

“… Alright then. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?”

He turned around and almost disappeared as quickly as he had come. Mia immediately regretted being so short.

“Wait!”

He paused, looking back directly at the camera.

“Hmm?”

A few moments passed. Mia gingerly pressed the ‘unlock’ button without another word and waited patiently for her guest to arrive.

She didn’t have to wait long. He was at her door in a few short minutes, looming over the novice lawyer with that typical smug look on his face. He looked her up and down, obviously taken aback by her choice of sleepwear. A wave of insecurity washed over her, which didn’t help when she compared the difference between their current clothing.

Mia held back the urge to slug him.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

Diego blinked in confusion, his apparent ignorance causing more rage to build within her.

“It’s not that. You just look…”

“What? What do I look like, Mr. Armando?”

She crossed her arms and glared at him defensively, but was met with softness and pity. His eyes held a tinge of sadness to them that she had never seen before.

“You look… down.”

Mia turned away, embarrassed that her superior could read her so easily.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

He hesitantly took a step closer, careful not to cross any more boundaries than he already had. He gently took her face into his palm, smoothing his thumb across her wettened cheek.

“You’ve been crying.”

She responded by wiping her face with one palm ungracefully.

“Like I said. I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

Not wanting to meet his gaze, her eyes drifted to the floor in an uncharacteristic display of meekness.

“Come on now, kitten. This isn’t like you. Something’s on your mind and I gotta hunch it’s got nothin’ to do with the case.”

Damn. He read her like a book. Realizing there was no use denying it any longer, she gestured to her leather couch and barked an order.

“Sit.”

Without waiting to hear his response, Mia marched to the kitchen. He slipped off his loafers and plopped himself near the armrest. A variety of bumps and clangs could be heard as she rummaged through her cabinets in search of something. He detected running water. The clink of glass. Within a few minutes, an aroma of Italian press floated across the room and onto the couch where Diego sat. The darkest roast of all. She knew him so well.

Perhaps that’s why he liked her so much.

Mia returned promptly, coffee mug in hand and free of any additions Diego would consider abominable. She sat about a foot away, putting a noticeable amount of distance between them.

He clutched the mug in his hands and took a few large gulps before speaking.

“Talk to me, kitten. What’s going on?”

Mia sat cross-legged, her arms folded and resting in her lap. She made small circles with her ankle, back and forth as if stretching the tendons.

“Don’t you dare tell a soul or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Easy, easy. Put those claws away. You know me better than that.”

His subordinate sighed and bit her lower lip.

“It’s... I’m lonely, Diego.”

Not the answer he had expected to hear. Nor the name he was usually called. His mouth dropped open slightly in surprise, but he decided against addressing that fact… for now.

“Everyone gets lonely. Unfortunately it comes with the job.”

“I know.”

Nice going, asshole, He thought to himself. Better try again. He wasn’t the type to let a woman down, especially not Mia.

“Kitten. Come here.”

She stared at him in confusion, startled by his sudden request.

“… What?”

“Come. I want to hold you.”

His last statement hung in the air. Mia fell silent for a few seconds too long. Shit, maybe he messed up. Time to backtrack.

“If you don’t want to I understand,” He said reassuringly, careful to keep his tone even and smooth. “I’m not gonna force ya. I’ll leave and we don’t have to talk about this ever-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. She moved quickly and quietly and was in his arms sooner than he could have ever hoped. Her back pressed against his chest, slightly timid but with a hint of eagerness. She didn’t say a word; the silence allowed him to listen to her nervous, staggered breathing. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. Pulling her in closer. Burying his face in her freshly shampooed hair. It smelled like roses. Fitting for someone like Mia.

They laid there for some time as the night ticked on. He pulled her chestnut hair behind her ear and kissed it tenderly. His lips pursed as he gave her small pecks on the back of her head, at the base of her skull, moving towards her jawline. She twitched at the light caresses but didn’t protest. Soon, he found his hands moving up and down her sides, tracing random patterns through the fabric of her T shirt.

She squirmed a little. Muffled noises that sounded like weak coughs. He smirked, unbeknownst to her, adding a little more pressure to her stomach and sides. Her wiggling became a lot more pronounced, the noises a little more recognizable as giggles.

“Ticklish, kitten?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“No… not at a-haaa-ll!”

He pinched her lower ribs and relished when she squeaked, proving his claim true.

“Is that so?”

His tanned, calloused hands kept up their ministrations, his touches getting more purposeful and teasy. He softly clawed her midsection and focused on a patch of extra sensitive skin he had just discovered right below her belly button. Mia jerked her knees upward and clamped her hands on his, a weak attempt to fight off the tickling. The lack of touch in her life had made her more reactive than usual, and she was not happy about it.

“Diego! – ahahahaha! – WHYYYY!”

His response was more light clawing at her sides. She bucked and twisted left to right, laughing joyfully as if he’d told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. He clung onto her, never letting go no matter how violent her struggles got. His fingers drifted upward, settling in her crevices of her underarms and scritching away at them endlessly. Mia howled in a high-pitched tone and jolted her arms down, which only trapped his hands in place and made escape impossible.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA – oh nooooo! – Diego! – EEEEEEK!”

“The little kitten is so ticklish. How adorable.”

She could only giggle in response.

He kept it up for awhile longer, inwardly promising to stop if Mia asked, but surprisingly she never did. She thrashed and kicked and fought wildly, but never once did the word “stop” leave her lips. However, he had enough experience to know when a woman had had enough, and when her face was crimson red and her breathing shallow he let up and allowed his poor subordinate to collect herself. She took in large gulps of air and laid limp in his embrace.

“Haaa… haa… what was… that for…”

“My own amusement, mostly. Doesn’t hurt that you’ve got a killer laugh, too.”

Mia turned around with an exasperated (but affectionate) expression.

“You know, that was highly inappropriate.”

“So was inviting your colleague into your private abode after midnight.”

“You- you-!”

Rage spread across her face but melted into a smile as he clamped his hands around her ribcage, digging in a little more than before and reigniting her hysterical cackles. Too weak to fight, she succumbed to the tickles and buried her face in his chest until he once again showed her mercy.

“Quit hiding, kitten. Let me see that flustered face of yours one more time.”

He gently coaxed her out of hiding by placing a single finger under her chin and pulling upwards. Their eyes met, and for once Diego Armando was speechless. Seeing the stoic Mia Fey with such vulnerability and affection in her eyes was enough to turn him to putty. If he had the ability to speak, he would have been nothing but a babbling mess.

She leaned in closer, slow as honey that dripped from the comb, until their lips met in a cautious kiss.

Neither one knew how long they stayed like that. Mia draped over his chest. Diego’s hands rested on her lower back. When they finally pulled away, both felt warm and giddy.

“Mia…” he managed to croak out.

“Sorry.”

She seemed out of it. Not regretful, but definitely embarrassed. He half smiled in amusement.

“Don’t be.”

She shifted a little. A question sat on the edge of her mouth, and he waited patiently for it to fall. She rested her lips against his shirt and mumbled.

“Will you… st… ere… ight…?”

“Hmm? Speak up kitten, can’t hear ya.”

He heard her. But he wanted to hear it again. It took everything in him not to grin like an idiot, and everything in her not to smack him.

She lifted her head and scowled.

“Will you stay. Here. The night.”

He kissed her on the forehead and broke out in a victorious smile.

“Of course. Anything for you, kitten.”

[royal-writer]

Just say you won’t let go

I met you in the dark, you lit me up you made me feel as though I was enough

She couldn’t shake off the trepidation that told her they weren’t going to get out of this one. The smell of fear was burning in her lungs with each ragged breath she took. A sour acidic flavor churned in her stomach, rising up into her throat. There was no safe place to pause; no where to rest and ease the fire in her muscles that begged for rest as the sound of clanking footsteps followed.

Sprinting to the left and to the right, whirling past pedestrians and salesmen peddling their wares, she ran. There was no thrill in the adrenaline. Only panic, even as the shouts of anger from the near-impacts chased after her more than the fading echo of predators on her tail.

Essätha squeezed by the nearest stall and into an alleyway. She panted for air, gulping it down hungrily. The whirlwind tangle of her knotted hair stuck to the nervous sweat that dampened her forehead, obscuring her sight. She pushed the dark ringlets aside wearily. A flash of red fabric and a dark shadow blurred into focus and the Yuan-Ti reached out, snagging the lightweight cloak of the figure before they could pass her hiding spot. The medallion holding the garment in place strained, but didn’t unlatch. It choked the individual, who stumbled as she released them and nearly collapsed to their knees before leaning heavily to the nearby wall.

Her eyes moved tensely down the avenue as more phantom figures began to dash into hiding. A smog of wispy violet formed around her shaking fist like a sudden storm. Her jaw clenched, and began to relax as the curls of magic blooming up her arms began to evaporate from her rigid fingers.

“Take a breather, kid,” she puffed. Wobbly on shaky limbs, she advanced further into the darkness of the side street. Her eyes moved all around them, above them, to the front and back of the alley in search of danger that might yet be stalking them.

Ravamora wheezed, which sounded like the closest thing to an answer she was going to get. She leaned heavily into the brick building to their right, giving Essätha the room to pass her. The young elf girl looked exhausted, and she regarded the sentiment in equal measure. The volume of her afro had increased tenfold into one enormous mop of turbulent deep umber.

Using the cover of the wall for balance, Essie approached the newly arrived characters with a sigh. “Sulhadur, Adela, have you seen anyone else?”

Adela jumped. Her tail tucked nervously against her legs as she reached for the heavily armored Paladin, giving a short shake of her head. The lone earring she still had dangled and flashed in the light of the sun bouncing off the Dragonborn’s armor; the other nowhere in sight. She looked as though she’d just climbed out of bed. Hair tousled, wild eyes, missing jewelry and her shirt ruffled like she’d been restlessly tossing and turning.

“Penimra and Abe turned left from us, I lost sight of them.”

“Pri, Amon, and Aylin were behind us when we scattered,” Sulhadur rumbled, casting a glance behind himself. “I don’t know where they went to.

She frowned and squeezed around the bulky armored scaly lad as he spoke. He grunted, pressing a hand to Adela’s backside gently and the other to her shoulder. His claws dug into her flesh anxiously, ready to haul her back at a moment’s notice.

“Essätha.”

He wasn’t fast enough to clamp his fingers down and hold her firmly in place as she slipped out of the protection of the alley. She just wanted a better look.

A wall collided with her in a flurry of limbs and yelps. Thrown bodily to the ground, her butt immediately hurt more than her aching calves as she hit the stone walkway.

“Oh, Jubäta.”

Whimpering, her eyes moved up to the heavy furry animal standing over her. They let out a pitiful apologetic whine for knocking her over. Droopy jowls dangling before her eyes, and a slobbery tongue rolled out to lap with concern at the sticky perspiration on her forehead.

“Lord Caesar, no,” she groaned, pushing at the mastiff’s bulky head. He stepped over her, and her sense of smell was grateful for the aroma of the city over the dog breath that had been wafting over her face. Or the weight of the beast, which was doing nothing for her bruised tailbone and collapsing lungs.

Sul stepped out from the security of cover, grabbing carefully hold of the hound’s spiked collar. Caesar huffed like a dejected puppy, sulking after the Dragonborn as Aylin came bounding down the lane in their direction. Behind him, their golden cleric was running as fast as their short legs could carry.

Essätha flipped over to her palms to crawl a short distance and accept Adela’s offered hand of assistance. They gathered back into the shadows, with two more still compressing themselves to the narrow passage.

“M’lord Amon?” Essie wheezed. Her palms fiddled nervously together as she tried peering out at the road, expecting to see the older nobleman hurtling valiantly by.

“He went looking for Abe and Penimra,” the small Thri-Kreen rekmarked while trying to spring open their tightly coiled antenna and adjust their flowing maroon robes. “The traitorous guards were right behind them. I am sorry; I would have followed him, but he fled into the crowd too fast. This one saw which direction Aylin headed to follow Caesar, and choose to keep the more vulnerable party member safe.”

“The dog was the least likely one to lead us into danger,” Aylin stated matter-factually. “I knew he would follow his master’s orders to find Essätha. There was a chance that would connect us up with larger numbers, and I was right.”

She winced as the dragon placed a hand to her arm, distracting her from the masked-mans words. His touch was faint, but it startled her as dappled orbs of light and glow began to encircle her limb. It washed into her golden skin, illuminating her. The pain in her back eased as well as her bum from the collision with the dog, and with the ground.

He sent Caesar to come find her?

Her heartbeat jolted fearfully. She knew she should be touched at the consideration, but there was no room for the feeling in her chest.

What happened, if the trio got captured? What happened if they were killed? They weren’t together. She wasn’t there to protect them. This was a disaster, this was all a complete fucking mess.

Aylin squished himself to the side of the building to move past her numbed statue-like pose. The murmurs of the voices around her were muffled. In the back of her head she knew she should join their concerns. Checking on each other, reassuring that everything would be okay. Coming up with a plan as a group no less would be the most productive matter. But she couldn’t shake the terror of knowing they were out there, alone.

“We have to tell Queen Morwen about the guards; she’s not safe,” Essie mumbled, vaguely aware of the movement of her own lips.

“That’s a big duh, Essie,” Ravamora reported with a deadpan gaze.

“I knew there was something off about them,” Adela chipped in, rubbing her hands self-consciously up and down her arms. “I could feel it. They gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“You get these heebie-jeebies about everything,” Aylin purred. He grinned, the holes in his mask changing over from a blank slate gray to a harmonious sunny disposition of gold. Out of all of them, only the bard of course still looked stunning. His marble-like pale chest reflected with just enough sheen to look attractive, rather than dingy.

Clearing their throat politely, Pri’cha raised both arms on the left side of their body to wave them around for attention while chirping: “It is not a matter of who was right and who was wrong.  We know that the cult of the Raven Lord has invaded the palace, and that puts the Queen, the city, and the country in great danger. It is highly likely that the guards who following are going to be on high alert, and any spies they have in the capital will be searching for us as well, if they aren’t already.”

Taking a deep breath, Essätha nodded with understanding. “You’re absolutely right. We have to focus. We need to stay together. But we need to get access to Her Highness, before something terrible happens.”

In an eruption of voices, Sulhadur began to speak at the same time as Rava. They paused, tried to start again, and Adela jumped in to speak over them both. Aylin began to grow frustrated, and tried to barge in on the elf child’s defense so she could get a word in. Their priestess watched helplessly, trying to soothe them all with curt tugs on the sleeves and hems of their attire to bring them to order once more.

Essie rolled her eyes at the commotion, and they fell upon Caesar who was staring up at her. His big ears flopped low and wrinkles tugged down by gravity into a worrying frown. Patiently waiting and watching.

Debate later, action now.

“Caesar. Caesar my sweet boy,” she cooed, gesturing to the enormous pooch. He wagged his tail stiffly with worry as he approached her. Her fingertips grazed the top of his head while kneeling down low, looking into the beast’s beady dark eyes. He was smart; smarter than they gave him credit for. Perhaps...

“Lord Caesar, can you find daddy for me? Where’s daddy? Find Lord Amon. Find him.”

“Aroof,” he wisely answered, shaking his body from side to side so loose hairs floated off him. He turned to trot around her, forcing space between and around people’s legs.

Trotting after him, Essätha turned to glance back at the deliberating group to hiss: “Come on. We need to find the others.”

They exchanged glances, and swallowed their words. Only Adela offered her a look that seemed irate with being bossed around, but there was no objections. No one was willing to leave anyone behind to be captured, maimed, or eliminated. They’d made it too damn far, seen too much, became closer than the bonds of family in some cases.

Grouping together, the dread of the open streets yawned before them as they left the safety of the tight space. Hair’s on the back of Essie’s neck stood up with nervous awareness as she tiptoed cautiously out after the furry mammoth of a hunting companion.

There was no telling how many eyes of these strangers glancing their way were simple civilians. They didn’t have a clue how many people in the Queen’s court were safe to try gaining access to Her Majesty after the confrontation. They were in danger as much as the nobility, and the people in this city. Once misstep; one word spoken out of place, and they could be drawing targets on themselves and any kind soul who offered them sanctuary or a word of help. The die were not in their favor.

With the click of Caesar’s toenails on the road worn and smooth from years of use leading them, they followed in a huddled, tense group. Sul remained in the back; far behind  her and the canine leading them, and Rava and Pri’cha flanking the other two caster’s hidden among their ranks

Weaving in and out of the throngs of people going about their daily lives and business, Essie kept her weary eyes moving. She forced a smile to anyone who stared a moment too long in their direction, trying to formulate questions on such an odd group of individuals. Or maybe they were more concerned with their appearances; with large sacks and weapon hilts dangling beneath their cloaks and wrapped in their belts. Adventurers weren’t exactly unheard of, brazen crooks could just as easily manipulate the look to situate their needs.

They moved along avenues and streetcorners through more vacant areas of the city into more populace ones. Lifting his head, Caesar circled the same spot a few times, and turned to look up at her.

“Boof.”

“Which way, Caesar? Find m’lord Amon,” she pleaded.

The mastiff whimpered, placing his nose to the ground. He inhaled deeply a few times. Trotting left, then right, he snuffled the filthy pavement for clues. He’d head one way for a moment as if he was growing confident, then turn around and start again.

“I think he lost the scent,” Ravamora remarked in a hush. “There’s a lot of people around here.”

Doubt began to trickle in. As her shoulders visibly fell, Caesar froze in place. His tail erected in a serious disposition, and then began to lash like a violent whip. With renewed interest and vigor, he took off bolting down the lane with more grace and speed then one would expect of such a lumbering beast.

City residents parted the way for them with squawks and curses as they barreled through. Essätha tried to shout an apology where she could, running breathless in chase after the dog as he charged down the path. He hooked a hard left. Flying around mobs of people shopping, walking, carrying their goods, he carved the way through them. People scrambled to get out of the way.

Taking a right and another left, the mastiff lead them down a deserted lane. He bellowed a tremendous bark, cause a head popped up from beneath a set of discrete set of stairs that lead to a low-level shop.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Amon was the first to scramble out, barely missing knocking his head against a sign hanging a short distance from the stairwell’s entrance. It showed a very suggestive figure of a tiefling on it. Night club. A perfect time of day to utilize the area, with the sun hanging above, no one was going out to such a location anytime soon.

As Abe helped Penimra squeeze his corpulent frame up the narrow steeple, Caesar went hurtling to his master. He headbutted the nobleman’s leg full-charge, forcing him to stumble back. Amon kept from falling by grasping a hand into the dense coat of the dog’s dense fur to keep from hitting the ground. There was just enough time for him to recover his stance, plant his feet, and take the sudden impact of a second being to smack into him.

Essätha dug her fingers into his shoulderblades, and breathed a shaky rush of heavy air into his chest. The aroma of home awakened her senses. A quiet pine forest and dewy morning grass, with the faintest hint of rose oil. The friction of his kept beard nuzzled the top of her head as he squeezed her firmly in return, right over the thunder of his heartbeat. A billowing breath of relief fanned across her as he held her close.

“Oh thank the gods,” she breathed, leaning back. Her eyes moved over the pleasant bliss of his elated expression. Over the curve of his mouth tugged up in the corner, to his broad nose, the shine in his eyes that were like twilight where she found herself in a steady realm. The calm of the ocean’s depths; immersed in an inky black, where few came to see the fascinations at the bottom of the sea and feel the serene safety of bioluminescence life all around you, or the soft rippling sand beneath toes kicked up as you dove and swam the valleys of a mysterious world.

Relaxing her death-grip from Amon’s back, she turned to meet Abe’s friendly smile and extend a hand out towards him. He swallowed her fingers in his palms, patting her scaly patch gently. A twinkle glimmered in his eye and his ponytail had fallen apart. Cascades of white seafoam seemed to spill over the teal color of his skin.

“Thanks for nothing,” Pen grumbled irritably, finally turning to them while wheezing for breath. He places a hand to a critical hip, glancing down at the stairs as he continued, “I was hoping to wait for this place to open.”

“Penimra, that’s a uh, lady’s stripper club. You do know that, right?” Adela stated, pointing up at the club’s sign.

The warlock’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, inspecting the feminine shape of the figure. His big pointed ears drooped, and his shoulders sagged. He released his dignified posture, and in doing so he slouched and sank into his neck like a man turning to a withering husk.

“Oh. That’s disappointing.”

While Aylin gave the high-elf a sympathetic pat, Essie’s gaze panned over the group. Surveying them up close, no one appeared hurt. It allowed her to relax, feeling the rhythmic circles of a gentle hand moving along the slope of her spine. She turned her face up towards him, grateful for her beloved Lord’s thoughtfulness.

“We’ll have to think of another means inside,” Amon reported, his voice carrying with authority. “We’ll draw attention trying to go through the front gates again. It’s hard to know who we can trust to take us directly to Her Majesty Morwen. The first person we make contact with could be another worshiper of the Raven Lord’s cult.”

“I could try finding us a safe way in,” the smallest elf chimed in, rubbing her hands together like a goblin out to steal lunch.

“Rather than risk you being captured alone, maybe we should try something else?” Adela advised. “Look for an underground group of thieves and information traders; maybe see if there’s any gossip about any prisoners who got into the citadel before? We could narrow it down and try paying someone off to find access in.”

“I can’t believe the following for that maniac has infiltrated the capital,” Essie mumbled. If they were hiding in plain sight, right around Queen, posing as guards and devoted council, where else were they? Where weren’t that? What signal were they waiting for from the Raven Lord to act?

An ominous growl reverberated through the youngest Paladin. His watchful glare moving up and down the street pinpointed a group of men wearing the Queen’s banner colors moving down the road, heading briskly in their direction. Nothing written in their faces exactly said hostile, but neither did it say friendly. And judging by their pace alone, one could say that any which way, it wasn’t good news they were bringing.

Caesar raised his hackles, mimicking the threatening snarl in the back of his throat to Sul’s own. Fur rippled up to stand along his spine as he bared his teeth menacingly at the approaching group.

“Move now, talk later.”

Heeding Sul’s words, Essätha clenched her hand to Amon’s as the group made a dash down the street once again. This time, she was determined not to let anyone them fracture and split up.

The callused lines of Lord Amon’s hands she knew so intimately held to her with vice-like strength. It was a comfort as they took the winding roads and shot through the alleys, the number of guards seemed to increase with every turn. The more that seemed to materialize in doorways and around corners, the less they followed. Instead, their eyes were the trackers; their numbers closing in around them.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Pri’cha inquired, their mace bouncing at their hip despite their lower hands trying to keep it from jumping too much.

“Because they don’t want to start a scene,” Abe gruffed informatively. “We’ve still not been charged with anything; it would look suspicious for them to arrest fabled heroes in front of a crowd of people.”

A scene.

They didn’t want to make a scene.

“I know what we need to do!” Essie announced, panting heavily. Her eyes fixated on Amon, then looked nervously around the others as she stammered, “We need to head to the market street, where it’s the most busy and there’s lots of eyes.”

The nobleman nodded, escorting them to the left as he rasped, “It’s this way.”

“You gonna give us a heads up on this plan?” Pen snorted, trying to catch his breath.

As they cut through a vacant lane, Pri’cha let out a squeak as a bold woman dressed in civilian garb jumped for them. The bug’s feet staggered, reaching for their mace as they were knocked back by the impact. Before they could deliver a blow, however, the red dragon stampeded straight into the woman, leaving her laying sprawled out in a daze on the streets. Caesar snapped his jaws in her direction as they passed with an audible click as the spy scrambled backwards to avoid his teeth.

They were getting bolder, Essie realized with dismay. Before long there would be no where safe to run. They’d herd and carol them right where it benefited them the most, out of sight of prying eyes to take care of business.

As they headed for the heart of the city square, a mass of armored men stood watch before the market. They formed a human chain, blocking much of their view of the stalls and merchants. One guard gestured towards them as they thundered down the road, getting the entire band of false watchmen to turn their attention on to them.

Close enough.

Yanking Amon’s hand, Essätha turned to him abruptly. He faltered to a stop, mouth hanging open and gasping for air like the rest of them as they clumped up into a crash collision meters away from the human barricade.

This would have to do, and she prayed it worked and drew in the desired crowd.

“Propose to me!”

A deep maroon color deepened the flush already in the Illiad heir’s face from running. He balked at her, as a unified gasp murmured through the rest of the noisy bastards.

“What-?”

Digging her fingernails into his hands, she hissed with insistence, “Pretend to propose. Do it. It’ll draw attention, and where there’s a crowd, there’s chaos. We can use confusion to our advantage. They won’t be able to drag us willy nilly with onlookers surrounding us.”

His mouth worked, but Amon could only release a choking sound similar to that of a man laboring for a last breath. The clench in his jaw tightened with a reflexive memory as he turned to look at the troops now beginning to close in on their position, and around to the rest of their friends huddled close. Their faces fierce; many tense with hands poised and ready to grab the nearest weapon or in Abe’s case, to the mastiff’s collar.

Finally, his gaze circled back around to land on her.

Different emotions moved in the space between them like a twister. Fear, then anxiety, followed finally by acceptance. The nobleman’s throat jumped as he swallowed thickly, squaring off his shoulders in preparation. He breathed out raggedly, taking a step back to timidly lower himself to one knee.

It seemed to slap her stupid, how wildly insane this idea was. She hardly seemed to notice the shadows of their friends, taking a respectful step back as she became lost in the gentle lines of Lord Amon Thomas Illiad’s face, and the brimming light reflected from his adoring regard and up to her. It was sincere and honest, like the sun that you knew was always there, even when you couldn’t see it.

He smiled. It was genuine and tender, and tugged on her every heart string as she released a startled gasp. The sound was as real as his well manicured beard, the texture of his linens, the easy smile creasing around his cheeks, and the warm love in his face. More real were his eyes she found herself lost within for what seemed like the millionth time. They were real as time itself, and all things that would come after.

His hand was real, as it took one of hers. Each ridge worn rough from combat, but his strength was careful and delicate. He held to her hand with just enough pressure to keep her steady, least she float away into the clouds of seventh heaven from such dizziness.

She knew that even if this nut-brained failed, someway somehow, she would be okay. Everything would be okay.

“Oooohh my gossshhhh,” Adela cried aloud, cupping her face with her hands. “Isn’t that adorable?”

A faded rose color began to burn into Essätha’s face. She shyly glanced away, and back to Amon as people began to turn towards the squeals, awes, and quiet forced sobbing of their friends. At least, she thought it was forced. It was too muffled by the drum of her beating heart to be sure.

The Lord of the Emerald Expanse opened his mouth, and closed it. He swallowed, and captured her eyes in his own. Gaping at the light tawny butterscotch, his anxiety seemed to melt the remainder of its icy grasp away. He fished into his waist coat pocket, never removing his eyes from hers as he produced a small velvet box.

Essie no longer heard the shuffling feet of onlookers prying close, following the squeal of Adela’s voice. She no longer heard their friends. She only heard her heart as it leapt to her throat, and the gasps her lungs would allow her as she lost the ability to breathe.

He looked stunningly handsome. Slightly vulnerable, his hand shaking and eyes gentle and imploring as he tightened his grasp upon her. He fumbled for half a second with both hands to open the ring box, and reveal the impressive ring situated carefully inside.

She didn’t even look at the ring. The only thing that captured her attention from it was the glint it gave off from the sun’s rays, and nothing more. The real thing she wanted, that the very core of her soul reached for with feverish longing, was the look in his face. That otherworldly happiness, the fondness and want that couldn’t be replicated. He looked at her, and it changed his entire appearance. The rigid stiffness was lost, his face smoothed and relaxed, the tightness in his scrutinizing eyes faraway with thought became sharply attuned to her. As cool and dark as their color, they seemed to scorch her skin as he looked upon her, burning her face and down to her throat with a dark blush.

He didn’t need to say a word. His expression said it all, and she was mesmerized. Entranced; in awe with a hand to her chest and her fingers curled within a protective hand as his thumb glided and traced between her knuckles, and up over the scales on the back of her hand. Smooth and gliding, gentle as the breeze.

Maybe she shouldn’t have made him do this. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Suddenly the guards did not matter; their friends, the crowd. The moment mattered. He mattered.

And she wanted this in ways she never thought she could. In feelings she couldn’t even describe, that made her eyes well up as her breath hitched. It was too real. The way his eyes moved over like velvet strokes of his callused hands, the way his tongue nervously moved over his lips, the shake in his hands that only eased when their gazes met. She felt it all. His every breath was in her lungs; tasting of ambrosia hope and yearning dreams.

He opened his mouth, and it startled her before the first word even came out, how instant the answer was in the back of her mind. Picturing quiet nights by the hearth, the winding roads of Briarton, the endless supply of books and laughter. His laughter most of all, and the smile he’d wear every day that made her insides turn to goo.

“Miss Essätha Meduza,” Lord Amon whispered, his voice soft and silken. It was spoken only to her, only for her, with love and commitment. It came with the embrace of his hand holding hers a little tighter in a way that told her all that she already knew. That his words were honest and true. That what he said next, it would all be hers. That even with his heart lay bare before a crowd of strangers, his intentions were only made with honor and authenticity. Not for the people, this was all for her.

Yes. Yes a thousand times, she wanted to cry, gripping her fingers into his palm.

“From the day I met you, I knew you were an incredible woman with a merciful and patient heart,” he rasped thickly. “You’ve showed the world great kindness, even when it held a wall to you. Your devotion to caring for others has been one of the most admirable traits I’ve ever witnessed. You blind me and silence me all at once with awe, yet invite to reveal to me a side of the world I only ever saw in glimpses, now revealed to me through your guiding hand.”

“It is a place of light and of color, filled with selfless actions and understanding. You are the patron goddess of the kind of world I want to make. Filled with thoughtful actions; calm and careful, gentle and generous. You give and you give; showing the world the beauty of your heart and baring your soul with every good gesture you bestow.”

The nobleman soothed his fingertips against the back of her hand. A deep, massaging gesture pressed into the soft tissue in swirling circles that dragged the air out of her lungs.

Essie was at a loss for words. She had fallen too far into his eyes. It was no trap. It was shelter; safe and warm. And the people around them; distant as they were, couldn’t even see it. They had no idea to the pull, the power of his gaze and the places it took her to. Outsiders looking in, and all they saw was an aristocratic gentleman kneeling, and the scaly commoner woman he was proposing to. They didn’t see the beauty she saw in this man, or the light radiating from the very essence of who he was.

The nobleman brought her hand closer, his voice wavering as he continued: “You have given me so much. Joy beyond measure, conversations filled with intellect and wit, laughter worth more than all the riches of the world, second chances and courage. You have given me my ambition back, which burns brightest with your encouragement. I believe in the possibility of things, and feel free to be myself and to openly question even the most mundane thought without ridicule. You have given me your loyalty, your companionship, your trust even when you were afraid of how I would react, because the world had taught you not to trust.”

“I want to give back, to the inspiring woman I adore, every day,” Amon murmured. “I appreciate all that you are, Essätha. I see in you your charm, beauty, good intentions and will. I want to show the world how you make me better; and be the partner you deserve to have by your side. I want to stand by your side. I want to have your back. I want to be the one who is there, tucked in bed with you at night. I want to listen to your dreams, and help achieve them. I want to be there for you when it feels too heavy to carry to help brace the load, and to share your smile and chase happiness when there’s not a care in the world. You make me believe in everything. Anything. That all things are possible, if we try.”

“And I don’t want to just be Lord Amon Thomas Illiad, anymore,” he choked. The tears swimming in her eyes were no longer just in hers, anymore. They were reflected in her beloved Lord’s. Dense and wet, filling up the corners of his eyes.

“I want to be your m’lord Amon. I want to go on that next grand adventure, with you. I want you, Essätha Meduza, more than anything. I want you in my life, always. To have and to hold. To cherish and to love. To share my quiet mornings with, drowsy before my coffee. To share my afternoons with. Wherever we need go, we go together, hand in hand. To share my evenings with, enoying a meal for two and a lifetime of stories and merriment that leaves our faces hurting from all the smiles and laughter. To share my nights with, rolled up together, and knowing no matter what happens everything will work out; every day will be better than the last, because I have you.”

“We could walk that uncharted path, together. I could face it all, with you. I believe in you and I. It’s an open road, filled with twists and turns and we’ll never know what lies ahead, but I don’t fear the unknown. I have no second guesses; no what-ifs. My future is where you are; wherever you go, for you will always have my heart, and I will always be at your side. Always.”

“I ask you to be my friend, my lover, my partner and my dependable equal in all things; in this life and what lay beyond it,” he announced, a sound of vigorous strength returning to his tone that grated with the intensity of his emotion. “I ask you, Essätha Meduza, to be mine, as I am already yours. Will you do me the greatest honor and privilege, of being my wife? Will you marry me, my darling Essie?”

The future was not carved in stone. The world was never made with guarantees. At least, not for her.

But looking into his face, his features whispered to her promises and vows, only meant for her eyes. His words only meant to resonate the way that they did, in her ears. There were things said and unspoken even now, where no language could explain or come close to defining the way he looked at her now. Tremendous love and respect; it said he would hold her hand to that brilliant and shining future, and he would never let it go. Through the good and through the bad, he would be there.

With all of her being, she trusted him. His every word, his every breath. He pledged to her his heart, his acceptance, his life and all time, his commitment to her and her alone. All his flaws, all that he had. And he meant it. He would hold nothing back. He would be there for her through it all, forever hers.

The group of eavesdroppers had turned into a swarm. The court of the Raven Lord began to melt back into the shadows, grimacing at a missed opportunity. Too many eyes and ears on one spot. The marketplace itself was beginning to spill out into the side road to see the proposal. They couldn’t risk the reveal this early, when the king was close to checkmate.

Bashful from sweet words and humiliated by the stray tears on her cheeks, Essätha brought her hand from over her heart to wipe her face. The grin she wore was foolish and broad as she flexed her fingers to his gentle hand with conviction.

“Yes,” she crooned softly. In her chest, she was distinctly aware of the enlightened sensation of floating. She was untouchable; flying high, lost in the banks of clouds and an endless sun burning inside her. Every fiber of her being sang in a chorus; yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Amon’s boots slid across the pavement with enough zealous to nearly have his scrambling face-plant in the street. It was so real. It was all so real, the jubilee in the air, the ecstasy of his expression. It was easy to forget that it was not.

The world was drowning in cheers and shouting. Whooping and whistling. She couldn’t be sure he heard her as he reached for her, and although she expected the frenzied kiss of hysterical joy, his hands were light as he placed the ring box back into his pocket and came to her face. They were extraordinarily and incredibly soft; like he was handling a fine antique worth more than all the world’s gold. Careful not to shatter. Just enough to hold her cheeks with the barest touch, and wipe carefully around her eyes.

Faint as the beat of a butterfly’s wings, she whispered in a hush, only to him, “You already have all of me, m’lord. The answer is yes. Infinitely and always, yes.”

He leaned in with a breathless sigh. Relief. Want. Desire in his eyes, and the drawn out ‘aww’s and squeals of friends and strangers around them as he brushed a tender, soulful kiss of affection to her lips.  The kind that made her shiver; outlined to the shape of his mouth, leaning in to him, steady and reliable. The softness of his awaiting breath as her arms looped around his neck to encourage him eagerly closer, and inhale him. The gentleness of his lips, and she dissolved. He scorched her from the inside; etched in her bones, lighting her into a scalding inferno that burned hotter than the planet’s core but didn’t burn.

How strange it was, to care so deeply for another. To trust without a shred of doubt. And to want what once felt like a fantastic dream, knowing what she was. Her own people disgusted by her own ideals. The world rightfully weary of something folks hissed about in warning to children, explaining how if they weren’t good a Yuan-Ti might just gobble them up.

But Essätha wanted this. This moment could last eternally, and it would be enough. She believed in him. She trusted her Lord Amon with her life, her secrets, her insecurities. She trusted him with her heart; still learning, still growing. There was still so much learning for her to do, but every moment with him, she became more of herself. True and authentic. Unashamed, confident, powerful. She could be crazy and enthusiastic around him. Wild chaos, juvenile actions, silly comments and poor jokes, and he loved her. He honestly, openly, sincerely loved her for being her; just how she was and with the changes she may undergo with time.

It was everything she hungered for. It was the easiest yes of her life.

Even if it wasn’t real.

They smiled against each other, sharing soft pecks in front of a throng of eyes. But the ones she was staring into were the best and brightest of all, and the only ones she could give in to; weak-kneed and willing to boldly love and adore with all of herself.

Amon placed a hand to her waistline then as they turned to the crowd. She had great difficulty releasing her giddiness. Still turned into his side, a hand to his mid-back and the other to his chest while her eyes devoured his marvelous features. Such perfect structure in his face, and what a captivating eyes and wonderful smile that she still yet wanted to kiss over and over and over again.

“Congratulations!”

“Well done!”

“That was beautiful!”

Flush, she rested her head against Amon’s shoulder as the deafening applause continued. Her eyes skimmed through the many faces: from Abernathy’s dark blue face stained with tears, to Adela’s sage nod of approval, Rava’s stupified look and Pri’cha’s shocked mandibles spread wide and beyond.

Then she stiffened, watching Sul bare his teeth to a man that slipped past Penimra whom was sulking with his arms crossed, and straight in their direction. Aylin reached out for the stiff collar of their coat, but the Dragonborn was quick to snatch the Drow’s arm away before he could touch the cloaked figure. It was a gesture of warning, not wanting to cause any advances from the Queen’s facade guards waiting to pounce.

Her dearly beloved nobleman’s fingers hooked tighter against her side, dragging her nearer. His smile was as forced as her own now as the man respectfully bowed their head before them. When he spoke, it came out a whisper but deep; rumbling like thunder before a storm.

“Best wishes to the happy couple,” the dark-haired man uttered low. “That was very clever. I’m sure that we will be in touch. Every engagement deserves a surprise wedding gift. May your time together be… ceremonious, and worthwhile. While you have it.”

She was astonished how calm Amon’s expression remained before the spy. His steadfast placid nature was in his posture, but she could feel the weight of the threat in his arm. He pulled her closer still; the bite of his fingers firmly engraved in her side. Creases around his mouth became tighter, and the color of his lips lighter with tension through the bluff of peace he masked before the Raven Lord operative.

“You dare to threaten us?” Amon murmured beneath his breath, leaning towards the man with a sneer. “Tell your master to come offer his empty threats himself. His is invited and more than welcome to delivery his words of gratitude on his own behalf. We would be happy to see him.”

“And tell him I hope he kept the receipt for the gift,” Essie added in a sugary sweet tone, batting her eyelashes. “It’s going to be returned. With interest.”

The servant of the Whispering Shadows smirked at them with mocking, and bowed politely once more. He turned to pass through the herd once more, only to find seven sets of eyes piercing into him. The noisy bastards collected into a barrier encircling the man’s escape, their faces grim and menacing.

He waited with unnerving patience. Still grinning as finally, Sul stepped aside with a scoff to allow the villain to pass. They had not nearly enough evidence to start a quarry here, in front of all these civilians. It would start a panic. People would get hurt. The entirety of the Queen’s guard; both those secretly entwined with the Raven Lord and those committed to Her Majesty, would have every reason to lock them up for brawling in the street. Their accusations unheard, and before they could get a word of warning out or surround the Queen for protection, they would be tossed in the dungeons.

The city would be left more vulnerable than it already was. Effectively arrested, and no longer able to move the across the chess board. The defiant last line of defense between a madman and the way of life they knew, vanished.

As the miscreant passed, their friends moved close to embrace them as the edges of the crowd began to disperse and thin. Abe, closest to them, growled quietly: “We need to make a fast exit, while we still have cover from the crowd and the gossip of the city’s attention on our side.”

Essätha nodded, much with the rest of her comrades as they broke themselves free of the mass and squeeze past the onlookers. Even Amon, who dropped his arm from her side only to hesitantly take her hand.

She glanced to him. His expression fierce briefly, as he searched the crowd. Then distracted; like he was focused with great interest on something far, far away from here.

With a squeeze on his hand, she encouraged him along through the mob of congratulatory people slowly moving back down the streets once more. Her smile ever genuine, as Amon moved up to be near to her and accept the kind gestures with dignity and thankfulness. Eager greetings, and even more fervent replies. He passed her a sentimental smile here and there, moving to brush a romantic kiss to the back of her hand as they moved through the city. Eyes twinkling warm with devotion. A sign of benevolence to the grip holding her hand.

It was real. Him. What they shared. It was all so very, very real.

But she had to remind herself, and the small quivering disappointment in her fragile heart, that the engagement was not.

And the truth was a very hard pill to swallow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was dark out, but clear to see. The moon a waxing gibbous; her glow helping to light the warehouse outside the city they had taken refuge in for the night. The only other glow was the lantern dimmed low for just enough ghastly light to add a sense of security in the old building that creaked ominously in the night. The masses of their group huddled around close to its flames that provided no warmth, with their bedrolls unfurled like a sleepover in a circle all around it.

Essie waited as patiently as she could for Amon to return back to their shambling camp. He’d taken Caesar with him whilst mumbling something about patrolling the exterior of the building. Her mind was working too fast. Pondering away at the day’s events, and the things that made no sense within it. But it had been a long day, and maybe in her excitement, her mind was tricking her.

“I’m going to go check on Amon.”

No one looked up to her. Many of them sleeping, and those who were not going in a drowsy half-awake state. Weapons kept watchfully close to them as they meditated or ate their rations with growing dissatisfaction in their features.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Rava pointed out. “He brought Caesar with him.”

“But he’s been gone a while,” she trailed off. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she was being too curious, and butting into his space too much. It had been a very eventful day, and she’d really thrust the spotlight on him…

“Go to him.”

She raised her head, staring tiredly in Penimra’s direction. The flickering gloom of the dancing fire left shadows streaked across his bulky mask.

“Excuse m-”

“Go,” he gruffly stated, turning his face quickly away from her. “It’ll be quieter around here anyway if you’re not here to whine… and you’ll get the answers you want.”

Her smile lifted as she looked to the warlock. He was quick to turn his masked face away from her, and avoid the appreciative regard she gave him. It gave her the last little incentive push; more his wording than his tone. The high-elf seemed to understand her position for reasons she didn’t understand but had no urge to question. And with his encouragement, she dusted herself off and got off her bedroll to prowl into the awaiting darkness.

She walked through the large building, squeezing past boxes and barrels to make her way to the front. The double-doors had been left open a crack, letting in of the cooler night air. There was a hint of cedar and rose wafting in, and that of dog. It brought a smile to her lips as she laid a hand to one of the doors and eased it gradually open to see Amon’s silhouette standing outside while the hinges squeaked.

Caesar’s head jerked up and whirled towards her. He let out a greeting boof, wriggling his body as he went from sitting to standing beside his master. It alerted the nobleman to her presence, as he removed his hand from the top of the canine’s head to glance back towards her.

Essätha cleared her throat sheepishly. “Seen anything unusual out here?”

Amon smiled nervously. “No, unless you were to count seeing a heavenly being as unusual.”

“Uh-huh. That does sound rather unlikely, m’lord,” she laughed, slipping out of the stockroom.

“I thought so too, once,” he drawled quietly, offering out his hand to her with an endearing smile. She took it, her shoes kicking away gravel and squishing springy overgrown weeds to meet him at his side. It felt natural. A place she belonged.

“You did?”

He nodded. Avoiding the playful skepticism in her voice. He raised her hand to place a kiss to her knuckles, skimming his fingers over her digits against the side of her hand.

“It seemed impossible, but I see her every day. Though she still overwhelms me, I know that she is real. And as I hold her hand right now in mine, and stare into her eyes; I know that I am the most blessed man on the planet, for she has entrusted me with her heart. A remarkable gift and an honor to love and to hold, for she is the most extraordinary angelic woman I have had the privilege to meet.”

Wrinkling her nose, she stuck out her tongue in his direction and scoffed, “You are a terrible flatterer.”

“I can not help it. You are easy to admire, my dear.”

The Illiad heir wore his best smile for her. It sent a fluttering of wings beating in her tummy as she reached up, caressing her free hand against the his face. He was slow to reach up, pressing his other hand atop hers to keep her touch favoring against there. Her palm to his cheek, fingers circling against the curls of his sideburn whiskers.

“I love you, m’lord Amon,” Essie stated; her voice filled with confidence and predilection.

There was half a second of nothing and everything, all at once. The moon’s light curving over his features and engulfed in his eyes, which covered her in a sanctuary she came to call home.

The moment he inhaled; shocked, ready to give her his love vast and constant, she pressed close to steal his words, and seal his promises with a kiss. Warm and inviting; spilling heart from her fingertips down to her toes in tingling waves. Sweet and soft, where they followed each other in mirrored harmony.

Breathlessly sighing, she released him from the trance to blink innocently up into his stunned expression. His mouth, still slightly parted, worked up and down in a speechless pattern as he drank her in. Bathed in moonlight and flickering stars, the ebony hair on both of their heads washed with a faint gleam and skin luminescent.

Her eyebrows drew closer as he wordlessly continued to try forming a sentence. The nagging question was still in the back of her head, and she couldn’t shake it.

“M’lord, why did you just happen to have that in your pocket, anyway?”

Confusion flitted over him. At his side, the large canine gave a soft whine, nudging his head with encouragement to the nobleman’s leg.

It was then that the alarm rounded his eyes, and made his throat jump in a loud and nervous swallow.

“H-Have what,” he muttered, splotches of maroon beginning to form spontaneously on his face and neck.

“The ring?” Essie pressed, stroking her fingers from his cheek to his chin. He relaxed his hand from atop hers enough for her to drop it lower still, coasting it down his throat and feeling him tremble like a leaf beneath the whispered contact. Finally pausing, coming to a stop over where his heart beat the loudest beneath her touch on his chest.

The rhythm seemed to increase tempo the longer she kept her hand there. A reassuring pressure, listening to the hitch in every breath he now took.

Amon’s horror began to gradually melt away to reveal his nervousness as she waited with a persistent patience. He ran his tongue over his lips a few times, trying to open his mouth where only a squeaky wheeze would escape him. It happened almost half a dozen times in a handful of minutes as her smile grew sympathetic and a bit worried. The ring had some sort of importance, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall seeing it before; nor the box. The velvet container seemed to intimate to be a gift for Lady Josephine, and she had her doubts it was a memento for or from Miss Marie.

A deep and sudden rush of respiration gasped forth from him, and Amon tried to tear his eyes away from her. They immediately came right back to her imploring and curious expression; now engraved with worry. He squeezed a bit tighter to her hand, reaching up to ruffle his hair into a mused mess before dropping it to his side, and fishing into his jerkin pocket.

Wearing the most helpless, guilty expression as the man deflated, he held out the velvet box in her direction. The intensity of his eyes fixated on her caused her face to morph into a darkened rosy blush. She felt much like she did back by the city square when he proposed to her. It was the same look, that made her feel for just a small moment in time, like she had become the center of the universe.

“It’s for you.”

She met his gaze, dumbfounded. The gears in her head churned over the anxious rasp of his words, as her eyes were drawn to his hands. He let go of her to fumble with the top of the ring box, nearly dropping it twice as he cursed quietly, before opening it with quivering hands. They shook so badly, that he could not hold the ring box steady enough for her to get a good look at it, until she squinted and reached up to steady his hand with her own.

A heartfelt sigh escaped him. Visibly calmed beneath her touch, her eyes darted over the large set of diamonds arranged on the white gold band. The inside of the box was clean vibrant satin, and the edges of the dark velvet outside had worn marks like he’d spent much time rubbing it off in his fingers.

It looked expensive. The amount of detail alone in the craftsmanship of the band as it weaved around looked intricate and like a technique difficult to master, let alone the karats it had between the multiple smaller cuts and large center stone. There appeared to be script written inside the band, but it was impossible for her to make out the foreign tongue.

Essätha’s mouth began to open slowly, ignoring the quiet whining of the pooch at her side.

“It’s… stunning,” she breathed, hardly capable of words. It was more than stunning, it was a piece of art. Beautiful and bold. No one would be able to miss it; between the size and the sparkle it gave off in the moon, the diamonds had clearly been picked by a master who knew good quality and clarity.

But it looked like… The ring appeared to almost be a genuine…

“I was waiting for the right opportunity,” Amon wheezed, his voice cracking with emotional stress as he looked from her, to the ring, and then to the ground.

… was it a… no, it couldn’t be…

Frustrated, the nobleman let out a groan, his words cascading out like a waterfall: “I don’t know why I pulled it out like that, I just panicked in the moment. Most gentleman are prepared for those sort of things; I didn’t want to appear insincere. It wasn’t how I meant to propose to you, Essätha. I wanted the moment to be special; I wanted it to be perfect, just the two of us.”

Oh gods. Oh gods it had felt so real. It felt so real and that’s because… It was real.

“I was a fool,” Amon rushed, frustratingly snapping the lid shut to hold the box in a white-knuckle grip. “I wanted- I wanted the moment to be just right. The atmosphere and the romanticism we should have had. I’ve been trying to prepare a speech for weeks, trying to get it right; trying to figure out what to say. It wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. Pelor I- I wanted to sweep you off your feet. The gesture was supposed to be grand and intimate and perfect and I- I’m sorry Ess’. I want to do it the right way, not because of pressure and not before hundreds of people.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you and I blew it. The timing, the situation. I meant every word of what I said; every word, but I wasn’t prepared, I might have missed something I-… I want you to know how much you mean to me; how much I love you, what kind of world I envision when I’m around you and it’s perfect. I want to be your husband; I want you in my life, always, to have and to hold in sickness and in health, through the hard times and the best days of our lives. I- I just- I wanted-”

“M’lord,” she cut in. The strength of her own voice surprised her. It felt like the world had disappeared beneath her feet long ago, and she had skyrocketed up to the stratosphere. The conviction in her tone was enough to drop him into silence, staring at her with a mixture of twisted agonized fear and timid acceptance.

Dragging in a fresh breath of air into her lungs, it felt like the first breath she’d taken since she was a babe. Something about the world suddenly seemed newer; brighter, less intimidating. It reflected back to her what Amon had said, about the winding path. Life was a path where you could not see around the bend to the next outcome, but the people you cared about were always traversing along that very same path. They’d keep you safe, where they could.

Marriage opened up an entirely new path. One she would never walk alone. One that she could see when she closed her eyes. It smelled like Amon’s cologne, Briarton’s woods, and Caesar’s dirty fur in need of a bath. It looked like the eyes of the Illiad before her; fathomless, thoughtful, touching like the arms that secured her in a comforting embrace at night. It sounded like his voice; lulling, deep, rolling off thunder with an effortless humored tone. It tasted like his skin, his lips, his hair; the aroma of a hard day, the wine on his tongue and salt on his skin. It felt like home. It felt like belonging.

She raised their conjoined hands to hold them tight, and against his chest. His eyes which dared to search her, trying to pull something from her in his aching fear of the unknown. The truth of a future he dared to believe in, not knowing if it was about to be shattered.

Essie smiled, holding firm to his fingers as she murmured, “It was perfect. You could have asked me without the sweet nothings; dirty, wet, cold, in just five simple words, and it would have been perfect.”

“My answer will still be yes, when; or if, you’re ready to ask again. It will always be yes. You will always be my yes, Lord Amon Thomas Illiad.”

Amon stood mute. His mouth hung open like a fly-trap for a short period, until he finally snapped it closed and visibly allowed himself to swallow and breath, as though the function had been turned off. In his hands he opened like a flower blooming to reveal the ring box, with her hands cupped around his own.

He dropped to one knee before her, slowly. Caesar; though she did not notice him, took a few respectful steps back to sit neatly, and thump his tail into the dirt like a sign of knowing. Her beloved Lord’s eyes never leaving hers, as he turned open the top once more to show her the glimmer of the ring nested inside once more.

“You are the only one for me, my darling Essätha Meduza. You make life meaningful, beautiful, and expand the horizons into infinite possibilities. I want to be there for your every smile; to keep you safe and well, to support you and help you climb higher in your goals, as you have done for me. I will be your strength when you want to rest, and carry you through, as you have done for me. I want to cheer you on as your biggest supporter and be able to tell you I love you, every day, as many times as I can for the rest of our lives.”

“Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world, and allow me to take your hand as Mrs Essätha Meduza Illiad, my wife?” Amon whispered in a fluctuating tone of adoration. “Will you marry me, Essätha?”

Droplets welled up along her eyes, and overflowed the dam. She nodded wordlessly, holding to his hands as tightly as she could muster all while losing herself in the color of his eyes.

“Yes m’lord Amon. Forever and beyond; today and every day thereafter always, yes.”

As he turned over her left hand over in a delicate hold to slip the ring on her third finger, she barely managed to get out through clipped sobs, “It will be my greatest pleasure to stand by your side. You have made me proud to be myself and to love myself. Almost as proud and happy as I am to know you, to love you and to have you; and the pride I have to the wonderful, beautiful man you are. I promise I will be the best wife I can possibly be; I will never let you down-”

“You never do,” Amon assured her soothingly, resting the ring snugly against her knuckle. It was a perfect fit. It made her wonder on all the times she’d tried on jewelry in store or on Adela’s behalf, that he might have been calculating the right fit the entire time.

She hiccuped through her blubbered weeping, grinning so hard her face hurt from it. Her fingers flexed, feeling the strange new weight of the cool metal warming to her temperature. Like the vows of marriage itself, it was not a burden to carry,  but a sacred reminder. No matter how tough times got; no matter the disagreements, it was a symbol of their commitment, that they could get through it, together. They would work through the differences; show understanding, and remember their love and all the reasons they fell into it as they faced whatever the future had in store for them.

Her fiance moved to stand on his feet once more, and she clung to his fingers that encompassed her hands. Liquid would temporary blind her vision, before trickling down the tracks already made on her face.

“M’lord-”

He hushed her gently, reaching up to smear away the beads of tears rolling down her cheeks and beneath her eyes with a fond smile.

“If it would be alright with you, I would very much like to kiss my fiancé, now,” he mouthed; silken words breathed close to her face.

Tongue-tied and mouth agape, she nodded. There were no words left with no breath in her lungs.

There was little room for anticipation. It was not like the previous kisses of the day, where they stood in content limbo, lips barely apart. It was a thrill; a rush. His lips descended upon hers as soon as he released her hands and the box, which clattered gently to the ground. And he kissed her, and he kissed her, and he kissed her until she grew light-headed and the only thing keeping her from crashing was his arms around her waist and her pitiful loose grip desperately in his sleeve fabric. There was no room for air between them; a fusion of intimacy and passion.

Nudging his snout between them, Caesar gingerly retrieved the empty ring box in his drooly jowls, and took a respectful step back. His tail whipped excitedly in the air as he held his head up high, offering the retrieved item up to his master who was far too preoccupied to notice the canine’s good manners.

“I love you Essätha,” he gasped; mouthing against her as they devoured each other, her tongue skimming the seams of his lips.

Muffling a quiet mewl to his crushing lips; a skip in her pulse, she managed to affirm back with strength in her voice, “I love you too, m’lord Amon.”

And she would. Eternally and beyond that, for all time and when there was no such thing as time, she would love him.

So they stood there, snogging and running eager hands over clothes in a sensual embrace. Two small pieces in the world; little blips that felt the infinity of time in the shape of lips, the tangle of hands in hair, the hunger of warm bodies pressed close and the promise of things unsaid by the voice but communicated in the hum of their presences so close.

The future was theirs for the taking, however they wished to make of it, together. Love the key; the concrete stability that bloomed all things from understanding, mercy, kindness, sympathy, giving. It was love that connected the world and its people, and it was love that made even the worst of wounds heal over time. What they shared was pure and beautiful; it was truth and it was happiness, and it was all theirs. This moment, their lives, their choices, their love it was theirs.

She would make her Lord Amon proud. She would be the most considerate, open, loving woman and wife. Faithful only to him; loyal to his needs, guiding and following and being there, with him. They would see their way through the ideal future they wanted, hand in and hand. She would put her best self and her best foot forward, with no doubts. Only love, belief, and strength.

After all, she was Essätha Meduza soon-to-be Illiad. There was nothing she could not do; nothing she could not accomplish. Especially if she had him, her Lord Amon.

[2018weekinreview]

The Year In... Donald Trump

Trump’s year also began with the longest shutdown in American history. 35 days of 800,000 government workers going without pay and trash piling up in national parks. All for a border wall Trump repeatedly told everyone Mexico would pay for. And a wall he did nothing about until Republicans lost the House in the midterms. Trump also had that infamous Oval Office meeting with Chuck and Nancy, where he said he would take credit for the shutdown. Then he immediately blamed Democrats. Eventually, Trump caved without money for his border wall, and with everyone saying he got worked by Nancy Pelosi. So he declared a national emergency, while also telling everyone he didn’t need to do it. Which kinda undercut his own messaging. All so he could lie and say he was building a wall for his 2020 campaign. 

In March, Michael Cohen testified before Congress, calling Trump a racist, a con man and a cheat. He also laid out details of the illegal Stormy Daniels payment and the Trump Tower Moscow deal. And Cohen alleged that Trump had him threaten his former high school over the release of his grades and SAT scores. Which is hilarious. Republicans’ best defense in the whole thing was holding up a giant sign with a picture of Cohen saying, “Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!” That same month Paul Manafort also received his sentencing. And still nobody’s mind was changed by anything. 

An attack on a mosque in New Zealand, and the way that the attack was handled by Jacinda Ardern seemed in stark contrast to how Trump has responded to attacks in Pittsburgh and Charlottesville by white nationalists. It was eye-opening to see what it looked like when a nation’s leader didn’t thrive on the politics of fear, walls, Muslim bans, birtherism, Shithole countries, whataboutisms and conspiracy theories. 

By April, the number of migrant detentions at the southern border was at a 12-year high. Trump threatened to bus migrants to sanctuary cities. It’s hard to say if he has any real solutions or he just wants to sound tough and run on more racist scare tactics heading into 2020.

The Muller Report was released with no new indictments. Which in itself was probably a major win for Trump. Then William Barr misled the public over the findings of the report. And Trump claimed total exoneration. Which led the Mueller team to leak that the report was much more troubling than Barr led on. Trump decided to stonewall Congress on their investigations. And in June he’d tell George Stephonopolulos that he would accept dirt on his 2020 opponent from a foreign country and that he would not tell the FBI. Eventually, Mueller testified in public. And he spelled out how Trump welcomed Russian help in the 2016 election. And that Trump was not exonerated. And that he at least attempted to obstruct justice before he was stopped by his own staff. Pelosi still wasn’t budging on impeachment, but all of this would just be a dry run for what was to come.

The New York Times uncovered 10 years of Trump’s taxes and showed that he’d lost over a billion dollars, which is more money than any other tax payer over that same period. 

North Korea began testing missiles again, despite all of Trump’s photo ops. There were growing tensions with Iran, where Trump even called off a military strike at the last second. And it appeared that Trump’s entire foreign policy was governing by threat of tariffs or obliteration. Meanwhile, nobody was in charge of Defense or several of the other key cabinets. 

In September, Trump fired war monger, John Bolton, as his National Security Advisor. Bolton was probably furious when Trump threatened another attack on Iran shortly after his departure.  

The trade war with China especially spooked economists as well as Republicans who assume that Trump’s approval ratings have stayed consistent due to his economy. And this was all right around the time Trump floated the idea of buying Greenland.  

There was renewed outrage at the border, when reports showed how horribly overcrowded an unsanitary conditions were there. Trump responded by saying the facilities were clean and good and that if migrants didn’t like them, they didn’t have to come. Which was all just more tough talk for his racist base. But Trump’s rhetoric got more explicitly racist when he told Ilhan Omar to go back to where she came from. And crowds at his rallies began chanting, “Send Her Back.” And then Trump sent another racist Tweet about Elijah Cumming’s district in the black section of Baltimore. 

When two shootings happened within 24 hours of each other in Dayton and El Paso, pundits began openly questioning the type of racist rhetoric Trump had been spewing over the past month and whether it had contributed to the epidemic of mass shootings in the country. Trump, by the way, went to El Paso for a photo op before going ahead with planned ICE raids in Mississippi. And then he backed away from gun reform shortly after. 

Trump was accused of rape and responded by saying the woman wasn’t his type.  

Hurricane Dorian hit the Bahamas, so Trump cancelled a trip to Poland and went golfing instead. He also told people that the hurricane was going to hit Alabama, which is was not. So after the National Weather Service had to correct him, Trump produced a map of the hurricane path and then altered it with a Sharpie to include Alabama. Just when I thought Trump claiming windmills caused cancer would be the dumbest climate-change-related incident involving Trump this year. 

The 2020 Democratic primary kicked into high gear. And voters were repeatedly told by pundits they had to choose between purity and electability. And polling showed that Joe Biden could beat Trump. Pollng showed that Bernie Sanders could beat Trump too, but nobody was allowed to discuss that.  

In September, a whistleblower came forward and alleged that Trump withheld military aid to Ukraine until the country agreed to investigate the Bidens. So Trump undermined our national security and risked the integrity of our elections for personal gain. And then his White House officials were alarmed enough by the request to try to hide the transcript in a classified server. It was easier to understand than anything in the Mueller Report, so a formal impeachment inquiry was opened. Transcripts were then released. Trump said “No quid pro quo” a billion times. He publicly called on Ukraine and China to investigate the Bidens, as if he were trying to normalize what he did. Mick Mulvaney said that this sort of thing happened all the time. And a Fox News poll in October showed that 51% of voters wanted Trump impeached and removed from office. 

Possibly as a form of distraction, Trump pulled troops out of Syria so Turkey could invade the region. Which means an abandonment of the Kurds, who had been our allies. This got a massive backlash, even from Senate Republicans. And this was before ISIS prisoners began escaping. Trump kinda got out of that shortly after by announcing that a raid in Syria had killed ISIS leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. But he had to add that al-Baghdadi died crying like a dog and a coward, even though nobody knows how he would have that information. 

Trump tried to announce that the G7 would be at his Doral location in Miami. Since that is a blatant example of self-dealing and a violation of the emoluments clause, he had to reverse that decision shortly after.

After damning testimonies in the impeachment inquiry, Republicans were left with attacking the process. And storming into chamber rooms to pout. Trump maintained that it was a perfect phone call. Public hearings began soon after. And the main takeaway was that Yeah, he’s guilty. But do people care? During the testimony of Marie Yovanovitch, Trump talked shit about her on Twitter, which some have called witness intimidation. She got a standing ovation as she left. Gordon Sondland said everyone was in the loop of the secret backchannel in Ukraine. Fiona Hill pushed back against the Republicans using Russian conspiracy theories on election interference. 

In the middle of all of this, Trump campaigned for gubernatorial candidates in Kentucky and Louisiana, made both races about himself, and then both of his candidates lost. Trump is also losing the suburbs. It might just be anecdotal and specific to those races. Or Trump might not have the political capital he thinks he does.

The impeachment process transferred to the judiciary. Articles of impeachment were drawn up. Mitch McConnell has apparently blocked off January for a trial. But you know how he is. The numbers aren’t moving at all. The country is just too partisan to change their oppinions. We still have wildcards with potential testimonies from Don McGahn, John Bolton or others within Trump’s orbit. There’s also whatever Rudy Giuliani is doing with his side project in Ukraine. But as of now, it looks like Trump is going to be impeached and then saved by the Senate, who will inevitably say it’s an election year and they should let the voters decide. Because everything is hyper partisan. So Trump will either be damaged heading into the election or he’ll claim vindication. It should be a horrifying 2020. 

[5hfanfiction]

Galaxies (Chapter 1 The future)

Summary

Lauren is a successful Lawyer who had everything at the age of 28, but she had no one to share her success with. Until sudden turn of events led her to choose between the past and the present.

(I’m bad at summaries)

—————————-

A deep sigh escaped Lauren’s plump lips as she hurriedly escaped the confines of the exuberant room she had called her battleground. Pushing through the double oak doors, a blinding bright light greeted her causing her to flinch.

“Ms. Jauregui, how does it feel to win the biggest case of the year?” a man from the crowd asked, shoving a device near her mouth. Four security guards rushed towards Lauren and her team, helping them as they pushed through the crowded corridor of the courthouse.

Winning a $1.5 Billion lawsuit was exhilarating, after hearing the 5-4 decision from Judge Morrison, Lauren had to stop her inner childish self from running towards the misogynistic defense attorney and shoving her womanly victory in his worn out throat; but instead she sent him a snarky smirk causing a disheveled look on his face-Lauren’s Internal organs celebrated, that asshole saw it coming.

It took 3 years to close the intellectual property case, representing the plaintiff; Lauren’s client filed a lawsuit against their competing company which was causing them to lose millions of dollars. Her client claimed their Interface and API’s were deliberately copied and the competing tech company patterned their products from them.

It was brain wrecking; representing a tech company was a repeat of high school calculus, hearing technical jargons gave Lauren continuous migraines. Lauren was a product of Harvard law, it should be a walk in a park for her, and to no one’s surprise; it was —after a few weeks of thorough research. If she hadn’t passed Harvard law, she could have considered becoming a hacker, after all Mr. Robot got her hooked.

Exiting the courthouse, Lauren turned to her assistant who was walking alongside of her and instructed the petite girl to give a brief statement to the press. Lauren hurriedly brushed passed the crowd of reporters scattered outside the courthouse, leaving her team behind to handle the press; she walked down the wide and long staircase instantly seeing her driver waiting for her at the end with her black armored Lexus. Her driver held the door open waiting for her to get in.

Hearing the door shut, she released, yet gain, a deep sigh, it was a mix of exhaustion and relief; damn those reporters were persistent she thought to herself. “Take me back to my loft, Matt”, she instructed her driver as they pulled out of the courthouse.

—

The drive towards Lauren’s loft was silent, but after the legal banters and closing statements in the courtroom, not to mention the deafening chatters and shouts of the reporters, silence was the form of celebration she had needed. 

The car came to a complete stop in front of an old luxurious Italianate building situated in Tribeca. The ambiance reminded her of London; it was a quiet neighborhood, an ingredient to her sanity.

“Congratulations on winning your case, Ms. Jauregui”, the doorman greeted, as she entered the confines of the luxurious building. The old man, probably in his mid-50’s, had been holding the door for her since she’d moved in. He could have been doing the same job for years, but his genuine smile never faltered. Despite the simplicity of his work, Lauren could see the contentment on his eyes every single day he had greeted her, and it amazed her how people like him, who were living the simplest lives, can genuinely be happy. She might not know what his life was behind closed doors, but for what mask he was putting up, it was something she had always admired and envied.

“Thanks, Brent. Always a gentleman” Lauren nodded politely, as she quickly rushed towards the elevator at the end of the Venetian styled lobby.

The high security keyed elevator opened into her outstanding foyer area leading to the grand proportions of the main living space of her loft. Her eyes were met with the dramatic and light filled brick ceiling, a large skylight with steel beams beneath it and extra-tall bulletproof windows providing open views of Manhattan. It was her dream to live in a fancy penthouse, or every ones dream. But it wasn’t a home.

Being a high profile lawyer equates to having higher risk of getting herself killed. She horridly ate death treats for breakfast; but she was used to it. She made sure her family was secure, and having a police officer as a best friend, she was safe as she’ll ever be.

She had moved in three years ago, it came with the job at the biggest law firm in the country. It was a sure shot, having passed Harvard Law with flying colors and not to mention outstanding recommendations from her professors; she had the job before even getting her diploma.

She had everything becoming a partner at 26, a year after Harvard, and now the case which was considered one of the biggest cases in the corporate world. It gave her not just a free pass on her career, but given the state of her bank account, she can quit her job and still live through 300 years. At 28 she had it all—well, that’s what people thought. Unfortunately, she had no one to share it with, romantically, that is.

Plopping down her couch, her ears were invaded by a familiar tone; she fiddled through her purse to find the source playing a 1985 pop song. She held the device and a smile immediately crept in her face after seeing the name on the screen. “Don’t you Forget about me, Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t you Forget about me" She sang the chorus along with her phone, as she’d always done, before swiping to the right.

"Hey, Mani” She said with a hint of excitement in her voice. She removed her blazer causing her to press the phone between her ear and shoulder blade. “What’s up?”

“First off, you look stunning on TV, you are all over the news girl” Normani, Lauren’s older best friend, said excitedly, causing her to release a soft chuckle. It was times like this, Lauren was grateful that she had someone to check up on her from time to time.

“Oh shut up!” Lauren held the device with her right hand after freeing herself from the tight clothing. She positioned herself comfortably lifting both her feet off the ground, stretching it on her expensive couch. “Why’d you call?”

“I have great news” her best friend said playfully.

“What is it, oh my god! Is it what I think it is?!” Lauren asked squealing causing her best friend to chuckle on the other line.

“Yes, I finally got a Brazilian wax” Lauren’s jaw dropped and she choked on her saliva.

“What the fuck Normani?! You called me just to parade your hairless mush. You hot, Babe. But we talked about this, I aint into incest.” Both girls laughed. It was their usual playful banter, having been friends for years they’re practically sister’s from different wombs. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“You will not believe this, I found the girl!” Lauren’s face tightened from the wide grin that immediately crept on to her face, her bright mood was suddenly elated. She swung her legs off the couch, causing her to sit upright.

“Seriously, What, Where, When, How?!! Oh fuck, Normani! What’s her Name?! What should I wear?! She shouted losing all the maturity she had, she sounded like a teenage girl gushing towards her best friend over a boy crush, but well for her, it was a girl crush.

"Woah, Lo! We are not in a courthouse, now I know why they call you a shark” Her best friend joked, causing her to chuckle. Well her best friend was right, she was an outstanding lawyer, grilling people was her forte, and to be in the current state she was in was really something no one would actually believe. But it was her best friend, she was comfortable with the ebony skinned girl she had new all her life.

“Oh stop it, Mani! Just answer the question!” She said with a hint of urgency.

“Questionssss, that was too many. But I’d answer the where part, she’ll be at The Stream Tonight at 11. I’ll be at your house at 8, we’ll be there at 10, and you’re welcome”. Lauren jumped up off the couch from what she had heard out of excitement.

“You are the best,I fucking love you” She squealed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I have to go, I have a meeting in a few minutes”

“Okay, see you at 8 don’t be fucking late”

“And Lauren, her name is Lucy. Love you too. Bye!” Normani said hanging up the phone before the younger girl could respond. Lauren tossed the device on the couch and did a celebratory dance. She had never felt giddy for a long time.

“Lucy.” She mumbled to herself. Hearing the mystery girl’s name for the first time, she felt every hair on her body rise from the electric current driven by her pounding heart. It was a foreign feeling, after being single for 7 years; she had honestly given up hope on the dating department, until the specific night she laid eyes on the brown eyed girl. Lucy.

Lauren had never been thankful for her Friday night routines with her best friend. Since both of them were away from their families —and well, they were hella single; they both made sure to see each other every Friday to keep them both sane, it was tradition for both of them.

When Normani was transferred to work for the NYPD, the police officer had lived at Lauren’s penthouse for two years. Due to Normani’s promotion, causing her to work late hours, she decided to get her own apartment a few blocks from her precinct. After then, every Friday was a choice between going to the movies, staying in at Lauren’s penthouse for a classic Netflix and literally just chill, or a night out at Clark’s; and with all luck in the world, that specific Friday night three weeks ago, they’d chosen the latter.

It was open mic at Clark’s, when they encountered Lucy. Both girls sat on their usual corner booth; Lauren had taken the seat facing the stage.

Taking a sip of her scotch, Lauren listened intently on Normani’s ranting about a case the older girl was working on, when suddenly the most amazing sound blessed Lauren’s ear. Her eyes immediately searched for the source of the heavenly voice, landing one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever laid eyes on and when she thought the sight couldn’t be more beautiful, a set of brown eyes met her green ones.

She swore her heart stopped that instant, she was sure she was taken into a bright and cloudy atmosphere -heaven. Everything around her disappeared, except the girl with the angelic voice. The girl was art; her long wavy brown her perfectly dangling on her shoulders, the perfect lighting illuminated her brown dreamy eyes, and her perfect full lips were inviting, Lauren swore she wanted a taste of it.

Lauren’s heart pounded ferociously in her chest, causing her breath to hitch; damn the brown eyed girl was breath taking. But it ended soon as it started. A sudden vibration surged from Lauren’s pocket causing her body to undergo shock, as if someone used a defibrillator on her and set it up to the highest voltage; she was brought back to life.

It was her work phone, she had never felt so irritated in her life, seeing the name of the caller on the bright screen, she knew she had to take it; it was a call from her boss. Cursing all the heavens, Lauren’s boss demanded her to go back to the firm for an emergency meeting. She hurriedly grabbed her things and apologized to Normani.

They walked out the pub together since the older girl was also exhausted, and decided to call it a night. But before stepping out, Lauren took one last glance at the heavenly creature still on stage finishing the song, and to Lauren’s surprise, the girl’s majestic brown eyes were still intently on her -and in that moment, Lauren knew she had to see the mystery girl again.

The next day, Lauren returned to Clark’s hoping to get the name of the girl, but to her dismay, no one knew the brown eyed girl. She only had the girl’s initials, L.V, which was what was indicated on the list of performers the night before. Lauren dragged Normani, spending three consecutive Fridays at Clark’s hoping to get a glimpse of her dream girl, she felt her heart shatter every time she walked out of the pub with no sign of the girl. It was a lost cause -until a few seconds ago.

After hearing the exciting news from her best friend, Lauren ran towards her kitchen and fixed herself the usual vegan dinner. She settled in on a Aglio El Olio, without the parmesan cheese of course, pairing it with a bottle of white wine. She nestled down on her large dining table and she slowly devoured her masterpiece. The overpowering garlic blended with a kick of red pepper harmonized well with the aromatic fruity alcoholic drink. It was how she spent most of her nights in her big loft, alone.

Lauren stormed towards her room to prepare for the awaited event after cleaning up the kitchen. The excitement can’t seem to die down, her pulse rate equated to running 20 miles, but the dread was equally overwhelming. The strong desire of seeing the magical creature mixed with the pessimistic thoughts were consuming her mind, causing a head- banging confusion.

She wanted to see her, but she was beyond frightened of all the possibilities. “What if she’s straight? Or she’s in a relationship? Or even worse, married? Is it even possible to be afraid of losing her before even having her? These strong thoughts were consuming Lauren’s being. She had to take a quick cold shower before she goes completely crazy.

Headed toward her walk-in closet, Lauren saw a text message from her best friend informing her that the older girl was on her way. It was already 15 minutes past 7, signalling Lauren that she only had 45 minutes to prepare, causing her to panic.

After tossing clothes all over her closet, she opted on wearing a black motorcycle jacket covering her grey tank top, black skinny ripped jeans, black laced boots and a pair of sunglasses to finish off her bad ass look. She wore light make up that still extenuated her most powerful asset, her piercing green orbs.

She stood in front of her huge full body mirror, situated inside of her walk in cabinet, checking herself out before the buzz from the intercom startled her. She checked the tablet hanging on the side where she was standing, projecting the camera from the elevator. The sight of her best friend on the small screen made her rush towards the security panel situated in her bedroom just above the night stand and pressed a key with the security codes letting the elevator open.

"Bitch, let’s go” Lauren heard her best friend shout from her living room causing her to scramble down the spiral staircase.

“Woah, someone’s getting laid tonight” Normani said, causing Lauren to blush as the older girl gave her a once over “I’d tots tap that ass tonight, if Miss Lucy Loo wouldn’t”

“Oh shut up, big ass, you don’t look bad yourself” eyeing her best friend who was wearing a tight black dress that hugged the older girl’s intoxicating body.

-

The girls decided to take Lauren’s black armored Lexus LX 570. Matt drove both of them to a small pub situated in one of the quietest streets in Manhattan. Walking inside, both girls were met by a chilling vibe; the aesthetics of the place was food for the eyes — the blue dim lighting; candid black and white framed photographs hanged on the patterned bricks. Their nostrils were met by a less intoxicating smell compared to other places that sold alcoholic beverages mostly because smoking was not allowed inside the confines of the pub, and secondly there are less drunk people. It was the kind of place Lauren and Normani preferred.

With her heart almost bursting from her chest, Lauren sat with Normani on a table just in front of the stage, getting a better view of the reason they chose to drive halfway across the city. Lauren rubbed her sweaty palms continuously on her jeans, anxiously waiting for the brown eyed girl to appear on the stage.

In an instant her wild pumping heart stopped, skipping a beat, when her green eyes was met with a gaze, a gaze she had waited for what felt like eternity. There she is, the girl Lauren searched thoroughly for the past 3 weeks sitting in front of her with a guitar on the brown eyed girl’s lap.

As Lucy started to strum the guitar, Lauren recognized the tune and when she thought the feeling on her chest wouldn’t get anymore wilder; Lucy started singing while looking intently at her green eyes.

There are no words to paint a picture of you girl

Your eyes and those curves

“Did she just say girl?! Omg she’s gay” Normani said leaning in to Lauren across the table her eyes widened on what she had heard. “And girl she’s starring at you!”

“Shut up! I can’t hear her with your loud mouth!” Lauren said glaring at her best friend. She can feel the warmth instantly spreading across her face. Thankfully, the lights were too dim to see her face turn into tomato.

Lauren listened intently, taking all the of the song— the raspiness of the brown eyed girl’s voice, the way the brown eyed girl never left Lauren’s gaze, even giving the her girl a wink; if Lauren wasn’t too oblivious, she would have thought that Lucy was singing the song for her. But then Lauren was single for too long, she had forgotten how to flirt.

Sure she had gone on dates, but all of which ended up rather weirdly; no one had called her back after the first date. After the last girl she’d gone on a date with, which was 4 years ago when she was still finishing Law school, she promised herself to never go on a date again.

Lauren’s self-esteem went downhill, on the dating department, that is. She never figured out why all the girls she’d spend time with just plain talking and opening up, never had the audacity to reach out to her. Well she tried to ask some of them out again, but to no avail, she had never received a text back.

So after all the worthless efforts, Lauren promised herself that she’d never open up to people again; she became emotionally distant. But she never really became alone, she had become the queen on the sack, she’d hook up with random girls she’d pick up in a bar or from a cafe, but never had any emotional connection with them.

She’d never taken anyone home-it was there place or a cheap hotel and she never gave them her name; that was Lauren’s rule. After all she opened up her heart again when it was completely shattered by her first love; only to be rejected by those girls she had opened up to.

Lauren’s past was something she held on to; she had become more protected, but seeing the brown eyed girl might have melted her steel heart. On that very night Lauren wanted to give her heart another opportunity, and she had chosen the girl who was singing in front of her.

After playing five songs, Lucy had walked off the stage towards the back disappearing from Lauren’s sight. Lauren waited for Lucy to appear again as her best friend was constantly teasing her and forcing her to go backstage to see the girl.

Lauren was too scared, and she wasn’t ready. She hated herself for being too afraid; a completely opposite side of her from what she was on court —a shark that could put anyone on their knees. But tonight she was acting like a thirteen year old girl who was too shy to talk to her crush; she was hopeless.

The night went on without any trace of Lucy; Lauren internally cursed herself for being too weak to do the first move. Unfortunately Normani needed to go to the precinct because a lead from her big murder case had shown up. Deciding to also call it a night, Lauren dragged herself out with a heavy heart trailing behind Normani. Stepping outside the pub, Lauren was met with the cold wind of New York causing her to shiver—she forgot her jacket inside. She cursed herself internally for her stupidity, but when she was about to turn around, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder causing her to stiffen from the voice that came after.

“Hey, uhh I think you forgot this” it came from a voice that Lauren immediately recognized, if her singing voice was angelic, damn her speaking voice was sexy causing Lauren’s spine to shiver. Taking all the strength she can muster, Lauren turned around meeting Lucy’s gaze. Lauren was awestricken; Lucy was more beautiful up close. Lucy stretched out her arm with the hand that was holding Lauren’s jacket, offering the piece of material to the green eyed brunette.

Lauren stood there frozen; staring at Lucy with her jaw dropped. All her built in confidence was taken from her, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She was speechless and embarrassed, how can her body betray her now. Move damn it. Say something. And as if on cue, her best friend cleared her throat to awaken Lauren from her trance. She quickly averted her eyes from the brown eyed girls gaze and settled it on the pavement.

“Uh, I got it” Normani said, grabbing the jacket from Lucy’s grasp “Thank you for this; my friend seems to have a speech problem tonight, probably because of the alcohol she had taken in”

“No problem, I’d never seen you here before but you two look familiar” Lucy said chuckling, switching her gaze between Normani and Lauren.

“It’s our first time here, we actually saw you three weeks ago at Clark’s. We heard you had a gig here tonight so we figured we go, check it out. She’s actually a fan of yours.” Normani said as she tapped Lauren on the shoulder as a sign of gesture, causing the green eyed girl to blush at embarrassment. “Right, Lauren?”

Lauren stood in her place, still frozen on what she heard from her best friend’s mouth. She felt even more embarrassed, more heat settled on her face, and she just wanted to curse her best friend for putting her on the spot. But from the small ounce of alcohol in her system, she mustered all her courage and uttered the first few words since she had been in the presence of the girl in front of her. It was now or never; she had waited 7 years for this opportunity. Damn it Lauren, go for it.

“Uhh, yeah, quite a voice you have there..” removing gaze from the pavement and slowly meeting the brown eyes she was longing to see again. A small smile crept on her face “And thank you for returning my jacket, this is actually my favorite one”

“You’re welcome….” Lucy held out her hand in front of Lauren, still keeping and intense gaze on the green eyed girl

“Lauren” Lifting up her arm to shake the brown eyed girl’s hand, Lauren felt a bolt of electricity once the palm of her hand met Lucy’s. It was a soft handshake, Lauren’s pulse quicken from the innocent contact.

She started imagining how it felt to have Lucy’s soft hand intertwined into hers, she imagined the brown eyed girls long and slender fingers touch her places that could send her to another universe. With all her thoughts in her mind —she had zoned out; not realizing that she was still holding the brown eyed girls hand. Until she heard her name being called out awakening her from her (day)nightdream.

“ehem.. hello earth to Lauren” Normani said waving her hand in front of her best friend. The green eyed girl finally realized that she held Lucy’s hand longer than a hand shake, making her remove her hand frantically. Lucy chuckled in amusement on Lauren’s silly reaction. Wait is Lucy finding her adorable?

“I uhhhh, sorry I just got lost in your eyes ­—” Normani’s jaw dropped at what she had heard, Lauren froze again realizing what she had just said. But upon scanning the brown eyed girl’s face, she saw Lucy’s face redden and a sweet smile crept on the brown eyed girl’s face. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“You have pretty eyes too, Lauren.” Lucy said softly with a smile, causing the green eyed girl to shiver on the sweetness of the brown eyed girl’s voice. Damn, she was cute and sexy at the same time. “Too bad you’re already leaving; I guess I’ll see you guys around.”

Lucy gave Lauren a wink and nodded at Normani before turning on her heels to return the pub. The green eyed girl was speechless, she was in a state of shock, did Lucy just flirt with her and she even sent a wink. Was she dreaming? But before she zoned out again, Normani slapped her arm causing her to wince in pain.

“Oww! What the hell, Mani!” Lauren rubbed the affected area and sent a deathful glare at her best friend “What was that for? Have you forgotten how strong you are?! Fuck that hurt!”

“You are fucking stupid, go after her dumbass! This is your chance, I don’t’ want to see you moping around and doing googly eyes again. Now you can do something about it! You’ve waited 3 weeks to see her again, and you’re just standing there like a fucking mute! If you don’t go after her I swear I'll—”

“Fine! Fuck you don’t have to hit me, you go ahead. I’ll run after her, wish me luck.” Lauren sighed in defeat.

“I just want you to be happy again Lo. It’s been 7 years. You deserve to fall in love again. I have a good feeling about her Lo.” Normani said softly, grabbing Lauren’s hand, causing the green eyed girl to look at her best friend loving eyes. “Go get your girl”

Lauren nodded squeezing her best friend for assurance. She said her goodbye to her best friend and promised to give the older girl a call afterwards, but before leaving, her best friend threatened to give her a smack in the face if she chickened out. She turned on her heels after Normani’s cab sped up and slowly drifted from her line of sight. She released a deep sigh and swallowed deeply before walking inside the small pub.

Once she was inside, she instantly scanned the dim lit pub and her eyes landed on the familiar figure’s sexy side view. She saw the girl leaning at the bar counter across from her while intently watching the performer on stage. Lauren mustered all her remaining courage and sauntered towards the girl, lucky for her the brown eyed girl was pre-occupied, not noticing the green eyed girl was already behind her.

“Come here often?” Lauren said with a husky tone. Apparently the brown eyed girl did not budge and continued listening to the performance, ignoring the green eyed girl. She slowly leaned towards the girl, causing her lips to be inches away from Lucy’s ear. “I said, do you come here often?”

Lauren saw the Lucy’s body stiffened from the proximity, as if she was about to rip the flirt’s head off “Look pal, no answer means I’m not -” Lucy was cut off after turning around, her tense state suddenly softened after meeting the green eyed girls gaze. “Oh! I’m sorry. You scared me! I thought you were someone else. I thought you’d left already?” Lucy said with her hands on her chest.

“Yeah, I was about to. But I wanted to thank you for returning my Jacket, did I mention this was my favorite?” gesturing at her faux leather motorcycle jacket. “I want to treat you for Lunch of dinner sometime, you know as a thank you gift.” Lauren said with her famous smirk. Damn she’s smooth.

“Are you asking me on a date??” Lucy chuckled, causing the Lauren to blush and stiffen.

“I uh, no.. As I said, it’s for returning my Jacket, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Lauren mumbled.

“Oh, too bad. I was hoping it would be one.” Lucy said with a wink.

Lauren felt heat enveloped her body as she had just realized their close proximity; their faces were just inches apart. Her nostrils were invaded by a mix of cherry scent and what appears to be a hint of vodka. Her eyes landed on the brown eyed girl’s plumped lips, causing her to unconsciously bite her own. Her heart was pounding ferociously on her chest; she immediately took a step back before she could pounce on the girl in front of her.

“I uh, sorry” Lauren said shoving both her fidgeting hands on her back jean pocket. She took a deep breath and swallowed the remaining saliva on her mouth causing it to dry up. She repeated a chant on her head Lauren you can do this. This is it. She might be it, Lauren. “Yeah, uh, I want to take you out on a date if that’s okay with you.”

Lauren clenched the cloth on her back Jean pocket, preparing for the worst. She had all the possible scenarios played on her mind; all of which were heartbreaking. She was afraid of being rejected again. But in that moment, Lauren knew it was her only chance, so she just had to suck it up.

Both of them stood there, never leaving each other’s gaze. The eye contact was intense, Lucy had yet to respond, but Lauren’s heart was already anticipating another ache. But before Lauren could remove her gaze and run away from embarrassment, the brown eyed girl sent her a warm smile.

“I really want to go on a date with you but…” Lauren’s heart sank after hearing the “but” her eyes immediately left the brown eyed girl’s gaze landing on the floor, but before she was about to go on self-loathing she felt a warm hand on her shoulder and immediately lifted her eyes to meet the piercing brown orbs. “Hey, no. It’s not like that I swear. I just have to go somewhere for a month, I actually got signed last week and I’ll be recording my first EP in LA. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. That’s great! Congratulations, I guess I won’t see you around here after you become a big pop star” Lauren said feigning a smile, her heart broke on what she heard, but she was genuinely happy for the girl.

“Hey! No, you’ll see more of me after I get back from L.A” Lucy said playfully. “That is if you want to, but the night is still early. I’m free until tomorrow morning.” She said hinting on the green eyed girl.

As if on cue, Lauren stood up straight, an Idea popped up in her head. She cleared her throat playfully, and ran a hand through her hair “So uh, I know we just met but can I take you on a date tonight? Well, I can’t take you on a fancy date since it’s almost midnight but I know a diner just a few blocks from here. I’m uh.. vegan so most of their specialties are vegan foods but I think their fries are good and they have milkshakes even it’s kinda a vegan milk shake but uh we can go to a non vegan diner but I don’t think I can eat anything there but—”

Lauren was cut off when she felt a moist warmth feeling on her cheeks, Lucy’s lips. She felt her face heat up from the abrupt gesture. “You’re cute when you rumble, the vegan milk shake sounds good to me, and I need to cut down my carbs and fat intake anyway”

“Am I rambling? Sorry about that” Lauren chuckled, she slowly grabbed Lucy’s wrist “Let’s get out of here”

-

The night went as magical as Lauren had imagined. Both of them ended up talking for hours. Lucy opened up about her adventures as a struggling runaway teen artist who ended up in New York. Lauren learned that the older girl was 18 when she left home, immediately after graduating high school. Apparently Lucy’s parents weren’t fond of the idea of their only daughter going to Juilliard for a Music scholarship; she was given an ultimatum, either she accepts her Business scholarship at Yale or her parent’s would cut her off, apparently she had chosen the latter. Lucy had managed to pull off working 2 jobs to support her daily needs and due to her immense musical talent—advance piano, guitar and singing skill; she managed to get a full ride at Julliard. Lucy’s life story just made Lauren fall for her, faster than younger girl anticipated.

They decided to stay at the diner for hours, since Lauren was a regular, the owner really did not mind her staying for longer. It was past 3 in the morning when they decided to call it a night since Lucy had an early flight and the older girl still needed to pack a few things before heading to LA. Lauren insisted to drop Lucy off at her apartment in Queens, which across the city, but the green eyed girl every single available second they both have to spend in each other’s presence.

Matt picked them up from the diner. The ride to Lucy’s apartment was silent, but it was far from uncomfortable. Both girls were cuddled together at the back of Lauren’s car, Lucy’s head rested on Lauren’s shoulder, while the younger girl’s hand rested on Lucy’s thigh; it wasn’t sexual. It was the kind of state you’d share with someone you knew for a long time, someone you trust with all your deep secrets, someone you’d probably call at 3 in the morning- It was comfortable. Though both of them knew each other for a few hours, 3 hours was enough for them to realize, their bond was something special.

The car stopped at an old building, it was a typical New York bricked building, not as fancy as Lauren’s, but it was simple. Lauren decided to walk Lucy at her apartment door, to give her a proper end of the date gesture.

“I had fun” Lucy said stopping in front of a blue wooden door, which appears to be the door to her apartment. “Thank you for tonight, so this is me.” Gesturing the door behind her.

“Yeah, me too.” Lauren turned to face the girl that was alongside of her, now both their bodies facing each other. “It wasn’t the famous Jauregui date, but I promise to take you on one once you get back”

“Oh, famous Jauregui date huh” Lucy slowly placed both her hands on Lauren’s shoulder, causing the green eyed girl to move closer. “I’d like the sound of that”

Green and brown eyes lost in each other’s gaze. Lauren’s heart was close to bursting out of her chest, heat was radiating from her body, and her eyes flickered from the intensity of the moment. She unconsciously wet her chapped lips, when her eyes landed on the older girl’s lips. In that instant, Lauren slowly leaned in closing the gap between them. Lauren’s heart stopped at the initial contact, it was a delicate brush that made Lauren’s heart even more frantic.

She pulled back after what feels like a lifetime, but in reality it was a 2 second peck, but before she could lean back, Lucy’s hands found its way to Lauren’s neck, pulling her closer, this time it was for a fiery and passionate kiss. Lauren’s hand steadied on the older girl’s waist as both of them where lost in the each other’s mouth.

It was a hungry kiss, full of passion but it was not intended to be sexual. It was innocent yet passionate, and it made Lauren’s stomach feel happy churns. The kiss flooded Lauren’s mind and it reminded her of her first kiss with the girl who broke her heart 7 years ago. “This can’t be happening” Lauren thought to herself, she was kissing a wonderful girl and her thoughts were again flooded by her ex fiancé.

Lauren can’t seem to brush the thought out of her head, she pulled back to break the kiss as both of them gasped for air. Lauren felt a pang in her chest, every time she tried to be happy she would be reminded of the person who broke her. She needed to clear her head.

“I should go” Lauren mumbled taking a step back from the girl in front of her “Call me?”

“Yeah, I will” Lucy replied, looking intently on the green eyed girl’s eyes as if re-assuring her that she will indeed call her. “I’ll see you soon, thanks for tonight” Lucy planted a sweet kiss on Lauren’s cheek before entering her apartment.

“It started as a magical night, but ended yet again with the thought of her” Lauren thought to herself

-

The weekend had gone by and Lauren’s was back on her oversized office-It was the third largest in the firm, considering the Largest was the CEO’s followed by the VP’s. She was engrossed on tons of paper work from small corporate cases to big ones, which the easier cases can be handled by junior lawyers, but she wanted to scan every case they had just to make sure the firm was on the right track. She was meticulous, a trait that made her sling her way to the top. No one questioned her ability.

“Come in”. Lauren heard a knock on the glass door; she still had not averted her eyes from the paper in front of her indicating Wartmart case. She heard the door open.

“Ms. Jauregui, I know you don’t want to be disturbed but Mr. Carlson wants you in his office at 11” Rosie, her assistant, said nervously as the petite girl popped her head on Lauren’s glass door.

“What does he want?” She said with a hint of irritation.

“I don’t know Ms. Jauregui, I was just informed by his assistant”

“Damn it. I have a meeting with the Farson’s, tell Jim to handle them” Laren scoffed dropping the paper she was holding, sending a deathly glare at her assistant.

Her assistant nodded and frantically shut the door behind her. Lauren was intimidating when it comes to professional aspects of her career. She had to be, if she wanted to be taken seriously that is.

After 45 pages, Lauren prepared for the anticipated meeting with the CEO. Brent Carlson was a middle aged man who took over the firm after the previous CEO unexpectedly died from a heart attack. Brent was like a father to Lauren, but the green eyed girl was still nervous in the presence of the old man; if Lauren was scary, the man was terrifying.

The CEO’s office was located at the top floor of the building. Lauren’s pulse was rapid as she sauntered her way towards the receptionist after getting off the elevator. She was quickly met by a smiley woman who was probably on her mid-30’s’; Lauren knew immediately that the CEO had yet again replaced his old assistant. No one really can stand the old man’s ruthless attitude.

“Ms. Jauregui?” The woman greeted with a genuine smile. Lauren gave the blonde woman a nod in response. “He’s expecting you, you can go in” The woman said as she pointed towards the door behind them. The woman assisted the younger girl knocking on the wooden door before opening it “Ms. Jauregui is here to see you, sir”

“Let her in” Lauren heard the man’s voice causing her shiver from the familiar tone. The woman stepped aside still holding the door open gesturing the green eyed girl to go in.

Entering the familiar office, her sight was greeted by a man perched on his desk. When the man felt Lauren’s presence, he immediately laid the paper he was holding on his desk. He stood up to greet Lauren with a nod.

“Lauren, please take a sit” the old man said gesturing the one person leather couch on his office’s living space. He then went around his desk towards his minibar where his decanter set sat. “You want anything to drink, a scotch perhaps?” The old man offered, lifting a glass and pouring what appears to be an expensive scotch.

“No, I’m good, thank you” Lauren politely declined.

“So, first I want to congratulate you on your big win yesterday. The board is quite happy on the win. We are getting bigger cases because of that”. The man said, taking a seat on the leather couch across Lauren.

“Well, I’d learned from the best” Lauren complimented, smiling at the old man,

“You are very polite” So, I presume you are wondering why I had summoned you here on a short notice?“ Lauren nodded gesturing the man to continue "Well, I will just cut to the chase then. We want you to represent the firm for a tour Lauren.”

Lauren’s eyebrow furrowed in curiosity “A tour for what?”

“It’s actually a tour for a charity event, and it’s for 3 months” Lauren’s body stiffened after what she had heard “Before you decline and argue about the offer, the board wants you on this tour Lauren, they emphasized the benefit it has for the firm” he added, taking a sip of his scotch.

“So I guess I don’t have any say on this, do I?” Lauren sighed in defeat. “You can just say it, Mr. Carlson, I pretty much don’t have a choice” Lauren said standing up as she walked towards the old man’s mini bar to fix herself a glass, she needed one. “Can I at least know what this tour is about, and 3 months? I still have active cases on my table”

“We got that covered, Jerry would take your place while you’re gone” The man countered with apprehension, he knew Lauren was not fond of Jerry. He was an ass, but he was a decent Lawyer.

“What? Jerry’s just a junior attorney! He can’t handle the Watmart case.” Lauren’s knuckles turned pale from gripping the bottle of scotch, before she could break it, she lifted a glass and fixed herself a caramel colored drink.

“Well, the board decided we needed a new partner.” The man said, pausing for a few minutes befor continuing “And they also want a senior one.” He added, turning to the green eyed girl who was still standing near the minibar. “Once you get back from the trip, they want to promote you to senior partner.” Lauren’s jaw dropped in disbelief, almost dropping the glass she was holding.

“And about the trip, you’ll be doing talks in universities around the world; the board said you’d be perfect for it. You’ll represent all the lawyer’s in the U.S and will be joined by other young successful professionals. I asked my assistant to send it to Rosie. Just ask your assistant for the other details.” He said giving a small smile to the green eyed girl who was still in shock after hearing her new promotion.

“I’m sorry” Lauren downed the drink on her hand. “That was a lot to take in, Mr. Carlson” she confessed, causing the old man to chuckle.

“Please, Lauren. How many times have I asked you to call me Brent?” He reassured.

“Sorry Brent, I’ll go ahead then.” Lauren said before setting the empty glass down on the table near the minibar.

“And Lauren, you can take the day off. You’ll be flying to London tomorrow to start the tour” Lauren’s jaw dropped yet again, stopping halfway from her trip towards the door, meeting the old man’s amused gaze.

“What?!” She shouted. “I’m sorry” She immediately regretted after remembering he was still her boss.

“Yes, sorry did I forget to mention that?” Lauren nodded frantically “Then you should probably start packing” he chuckled.

-

Lauren walked towards the receptionist in the middle of the classy hotel lobby, it wasn’t as fancy as her building but it was good enough considering she was in for a charity event. She had her purse on hand and a backpack, her other luggage was taken care off by the bell hop who greeted her at the front of the hotel. After the long flight and not to mention the sudden events that transpired in the past few days, her body was beyond exhausted.

Normani dropped Lauren off at the airport, and Lauren had called Lucy to inform her situation. Lauren and Lucy kept in touch over the weekend, as Lucy had promised to call Lauren after the intimate night. They had been all over each other’s inbox’s, voice mails, and call logs over the past 3 day. It would be harder now considering Lauren was out of the country, but they promised to keep in touch.

Lauren checked in and got her room card. On her way to her room, she rode the elevator which was the across the Lobby, she passed by a group of people probably also in the process of checking in, they might be in the same charity event as her.

Pressing the lit up number 8 on the elevator panel, Lauren can’t stop thinking about her room partner. She was informed by the coordinator that they would be given a tour partner, who would also be staying in the same room with them for the rest of the tour. She wondered what profession her partner had, or if she was messy. She might be staying with a serial killer and she wouldn’t know until her body is thrown in the middle of an ocean somewhere across the globe.

Her grueling thoughts stopped when the elevator doors opened. She easily found her way towards room number “805”. Closing the door behind her, she saw a pair of sneakers already at the door. She slipped her shoes off before entering, she heard the shower running as she passed by the bathroom.

She was met by a small area with two queen sized beds. She wasn’t expecting anything fancy, due to the fact that it was for a charity event, but she wasn’t really that comfortable in sharing the same room with a complete stranger, they should have gotten a room with two separate bedrooms.

Lauren sighed in defeat; she saw her luggage neatly placed on her side, the side near the balcony. She internally cringed when she saw her roommate’s side of the room, she saw clothes thrown on the bed and luggage remain opened and scattered on the floor. It was like tornado hit the room, but only the side of the stranger’s bed. “This is going to be harder than I thought”. Lauren mumbled.

As if on cue, Lauren heard the bathroom door open, she put in the fakest smile she can muster, anticipating to see the disorganized inconsiderate person she’d be spending three months with. Might as well accept it, she hated conflict anyway.

But boy she was in for the ride of her life. Lauren froze with her jaw dropped along with her purse after seeing the familiar figure across from her. She knew that body from inside and out, she wasn’t mistaken.

The woman, who recently got out of the bathroom, was startled on the loud tump caused by Lauren’s fallen purse. Her brown eyes immediately landed on the green eyes staring at her in complete shock. She was also taken by surprise covering her mouth with both hands; it was like seeing a ghost, a ghost from the past. Lauren’s eyes grew wider; the woman dropped the towel after covering her mouth, exposing her naked body.

The person Lauren never thought she would see again, after destroying her seven years ago, was right in front of her, naked. What a perfect reunion.

“Camila?..”

A/N

Hi, this is actually my first fic and the first shit I’ve ever written in my life. Someone suggested that I should start with fan-fiction to enhance my writing skills. I’m actually preparing for law school and English is only my second language.

I’m not a camren shipper IRL, but I’m a lowkey fan of 5h and I’m hella gay so I chose to write an AU of them.

I’m too lazy to proof read so sorry for the errors and incorrect grammars. 

CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED. Thank you :)

I’m an annon writer and you can reach me @ my anon tumblr account -https://subatomicgalaxy.tumblr.com/ and I also posted this on whattpad: subatomicgalaxy thank you :D

[murkymuse]

Title: Having The Faith To Soar

Fandom: Yuri On Ice

Ships: Gen

AO3, Previous

Chapter Two - Practice, Practice, Practice

Hello! I’m Vera Kotova, a self-taught amateur skater. Through an unlikely twist of chance, THE Yuri Plisetsky saw me skating and was impressed enough to call his coach! Now I’ve been whisked away to St. Petersburg so I can train under one of Coach Feltsman’s associates. Meanwhile, the Grand Prix Series continues with the Cup of China! I can’t wait to see Yuri skate again! 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Vera groaned and rolled over to reach for her noisy phone on the nightstand. The screen glared with a notification: Ballet Practice. Vera practically rolled out of bed and turned the alarm off.

Ever since moving to St. Petersburg, she had a very strict schedule to keep. Six mornings a week she had alternating physical training and ballet practice. Of course, she had school after morning practice five days a week. Her favorite time of day was the afternoon when she was able to practice ice skating.

“You might have some potential but you currently lack a solid foundation to build on,” Coach Feltsman had told her, “If you want to seriously compete, training needs to become your life.”

What else did she have in life anyway? A dead father and a mother that barely paid attention to her. Vera would gladly throw her body and soul into the only thing she did have: ice skating.  

So, while her sore body longed to sleep another hour or two, Vera quickly got ready and left for the ballet studio. As she exited the apartment building, the sounds of the city – cars, people, seagulls – invaded her ears. The tall buildings and crowded streets were vastly different from the sparse town she’d lived in up until now. It was still a little overwhelming; she hadn’t yet felt comfortable wandering outside her bubble of apartment-gym-ballet studio-school-ice rink.

Maybe if she asked nicely when the season was over Yuri would go with her to explore the city? He did say he’d check in on her progress, even if he hadn’t been specific on when. But with the Cup of China quickly approaching and then the Grand Prix Finals after that… Then Nationals and then World’s… Vera wasn’t expecting to see Yuri Plisetsky again any time soon.

That was okay. She’d work really hard so that next time saw him, he wouldn’t regret giving her this chance.

Vera’s drifting thoughts cut off as she pushed the door open and entered the ballet studio.

The rink was strangely empty and quiet when Vera got there. She checked her phone and realized that she’d somehow managed to arrive a good fifteen minutes early. It was still unusual because this rink was typically open to the public right before the skating class. Maybe someone had booked it earlier?

Vera shrugged, not caring about the specifics, and went to put on her skates (that they were truly hers and not rentals still made her grin). She hadn’t gotten a chance to skate alone in weeks. There was no way she wasn’t going to take advantage of the empty rink.

As she skated out onto the ice, she put her earbuds in and stuffed her phone in her pocket.

Sic mea vita est temporaria, cupit ardenter caritatem aeternam

Vera hadn’t attempted skating Agape since moving to the city. Now she felt a difference in her skating. Her balance was even more stable; her motions were both more fluid and precise. She smiled softly before going into her first jump.

The sound and feel of blades against the ice as she made a perfect landing was beautiful and thrilling. Feeling even more confident, she continued to flow with the music.

Once she and the music came to a still, Vera blinked and realized that she’d gathered a small audience. Coach Lebedeva was standing rinkside with a bemused expression. A few of Vera’s rinkmates were there as well; their faces filled with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. One girl, who had her hair in a high ponytail, had her phone held up to take a video.

“Um…”

Vera’s cheeks felt a little warm; and, she wasn’t sure what to say. However, her rinkmates broke the silence for her.

“That was so cool!”

“I didn’t know you could land an axel!”

“How long did it take you to learn that?”

“Thanks. I first managed it about six months ago. And a few years,” she managed to answer.  

Before anyone could say more, Coach Lebedeva clapped her hands to get their attention. “Alright everyone, stretch and get your stakes on. And, Anya, don’t post that video online without Vera’s permission.”

Anya guiltily put her phone down, shooting an apologetic smile, and then went to get her skates on.

Once the rest of her rinkmates joined Vera on the ice, Anya skated up to her, “Some of us are watching the Cup of China at my house later. Do you want to come?”

Vera wanted to say that she’d go but the words got stuck in her throat.

“…I can’t. I have to finish a project for school,” she lied.

“Oh, maybe next time.”

“Yeah.”

The awkward pause was broken as Coach Lebedeva instructed them into edge drills. As it could be expected from a group of pre-teens, the class was an organized chaos. Students laughed and joked while skating in every direction; and, the coach would call out corrections or glide over to help when someone was struggling. Despite all that, practice always seemed to go by quickly to Vera. Soon enough her rinkmates were heading off the ice. When Vera didn’t follow them, the coach gave her a look but said nothing. Vera took that as permission to continue and stretched into the Biellmann position again.

As parents arrived to pick up her rinkmates, she tried not to pay them any attention. However, it was impossible to completely block out the drifting chatter.  

“Anya,” the voice was soft and sweet, “How many of your friends are coming?”

Anya listed off half the class. Excited giggles echoed across the room as Anya’s mother began ushering the group toward the door. Vera frowned as she switched the positions of her legs and went into a spin.

It was only after all her rinkmates had left that Coach Lebedeva’s called out, “That’s enough for today. If you practice much longer, you’ll miss the men’s short programs.”

Since the Cup of China didn’t start for another hour, Vera figured the coach was just saying that because she wanted to leave but couldn’t with a student still on the ice.

“I’m coming,” she replied as she skated off the rink.

That Seung-gil guy was about finished with his short program; the crowd cheering as the commentators exclaimed in excitement over the flawless combination he just landed. It was at that exact moment reality suddenly hit Yuri like a freight train.

“Yuri,” Yakov’s voice was distant, “Come on. You’re up next.”

He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. The ground seemed oddly distant and blurred as well.

“Yuri?” A hand lightly placed on his shoulder. Lilia. “What’s wrong?”

Wrong?

Grandpa had rarely been able to come to his competitions but he always watched them on tv. Now, for the first time since Yuri moved up to the Senior division, Grandpa wasn’t sitting at home with the tv on to watch him skate.

A sob was building in the back of his throat. Yuri bit it back as a kernel of molten anger settled in the pit of his stomach. He absolutely refused to breakdown here and now! He could get through this! He could get out there and give one hell of a performance!

He just needed to move.

“Yura.”

He glanced around until his eyes found Otabek. His friend’s expression was as stoic as ever but Yuri knew him well enough read between the lines. There was no pity found in Otabek’s gaze, just the certainty that no matter what Yuri would give it his all. That he would soldier through.

“Davai.”

Yuri took a deep breath and then gave Otabek a thumbs up.

“It’s time,” Yakov said.

Yuri nodded and began walking toward the rink. He had a medal to win.  

The next night found Yuri kicking the locker room wall and muttering insults under his breath. He honestly didn’t mind losing gold to Otabek but he lost silver to Seung-gil?! What the hell?!

“Between the gold from France and this bronze, your spot at the finals is secure,” Yakov stated from behind him, “You’ll do better there.”

Yuri glared at an invisible point. “I will.”

Hours later Yuri knocked on a hotel door. It took a minute for it to open and reveal Otabek. Seeing Yuri, he opened the door wider and shifted aside. Yuri walked right in and immediately sprawled on the couch.

“I’ve sat on more comfortable benches.”

Otabek simply nodded before nudging Yuri so that he’d make room. Yuri grumbled but complied. Then Otabek just waited for the rant he knew was coming.

“Yakov didn’t even lecture me! He always lectures me after I skate!”

“He’s trying to be sensitive.”

“Well, it’s weird! I don’t want him tip-toeing around me!”

Otabek hummed in response.

“It’s bad enough that Katsudon and Viktor keep calling to check on me,” he continued with a grimace, “Bleh! I swear if Lilia goes easy on me when we get back to St. Petersburg I’ll kick someone.”

Otabek’s mouth tugged up ever so slightly, unnoticeable to everyone but those that knew him best.

“Not Lilia,” he said.

Yuri gave him an incredulous look. “Hell no! I don’t have a death wish!”

There was a beat of quiet as his word choice sank in. Then Yuri rolled off the couch and ended up face down on the floor.

“The carpet is more comfortable than that stupid couch. Someone should complain to the hotel.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it,” Otabek replied, his voice so flat that it was impossible to tell if he were joking or not.

“Good.” Yuri pushed himself back up and leaned against the couch. “We’re still going to Beijing Zoo before the exhibition show tomorrow, right.”

Otabek nodded. “You’d disown me if I tried to back out.”

“Damn right I would.” His eyes suddenly went wide like he remembered something important. “Oh! Watch this.”    

Yuri then pulled out his phone and swiped until he found the video he wanted. Otabek leaned over Yuri’s shoulder as he started the video. It was of a young girl skating with familiar movements.

“The kid you mentioned?”

“Yeah. Yakov’s friend sent the video yesterday,” Yuri answered, “Would you believe she’s only been formally training for less than two months?”

Otabek watched to the end before replying, “Then she has overwhelming natural talent.”

“Right!”

The students were gathering their things and trailing out the door when Vera’s phone started playing Allegro Appassionato in B minor. The teacher gave her a disapproving look but couldn’t say anything since it was time to leave. Vera stuck her tongue out once the teacher glanced away. She then unlocked her phone to see a text:

Vera let out an excited noise that earned her a few odd looks from her classmates. She didn’t notice though as she quickly gathered her stuff and zipped up her coat. Then she was out the door.

The air outside was chill; and, the ground was damp from it drizzling earlier in the day. Vera’s breath turned to mist as she glanced around. It didn’t take long to spot Yuri. He was leaning against the fence with his hoodie pulled over his head and scrolling through his phone.

“Yuri!”

He looked up as she sprinted over to him.

“Didn’t you just get back from China? I watched your programs!”

“We got back a few days ago,” he replied, “Come on. Yakov will yell if we’re late.”

Yuri began walking down the sidewalk; and, Vera had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides. She filled the walk with questions about his trip. While Yuri was happy to answer general questions about China, his replies about the competition itself were short and sharp. Vera fell silent after a few minutes.

It didn’t take much longer for the building to come into sight; its sign had ‘Sports Champions Club’ spelled out around the flag. There were a few people milling outside the entrance but they weren’t dressed to skate or workout. Yuri suddenly stopped in his tracks. Vera stopped a step later and looked back at him questioningly.

“Da-” He glanced at Vera and made an annoyed sound. “Tch. Can’t the reporters let me train in peace.”

Since they had yet to notice him, Yuri grabbed Vera’s hand and started walking.

“We’ll sneak past them and go through the back.”

He led her around the side of the building to an ‘employees only’ door. Either someone had left it unlocked or it’d been purposely left that way for this situation. Whichever reason, they were able to get inside without any issues.

Once they’d passed through a storage area, they entered the main lobby. Vera blinked as she took everything in. It was large but not overly crowded; just a few employees going about their work and a group of men with hockey shirts talking to each other. An employee greeted Yuri and gave Vera a curious look but everyone else ignored them.

They entered the rink then. Only Mila (THE Mila Babicheva!) was on the ice, spinning and jumping as she practiced what Vera recognized as her short program for the season.

“Woah.”

“There you are!” Coach Feltsman shouted.

Yuri joined his coach by the ice, while Vera trailed behind him. He began stretching as he replied, “There are reporters out front again.”

“It’s because you refused interviews after the Cup of China.”

“They can stay out of it,” he replied darkly.

“You won’t be able to dodge them forever.”

Vera, feeling a little lost by their argument, went back to watching Mila skate. How cool was it that she would be sharing a rink with both Yuri Plisetsky AND Mila Babicheva, if only for a day?

Mila’s short program practice run soon ended. She glided over and grabbed a water bottle, listening while Coach Feltsman critiqued. However, she soon spotted Vera and leaned over the rink wall.

“So this is the little kitten you’ve adopted, Yuri,” she said with a wide grin.

Vera blinked. “Kitten?”

“Shut up, hag!”

“I can still lift you.”

Yuri groaned in annoyance. Mila turned back to Vera.

“What’s your name?”

“Vera Kotova.”

“Kotova, huh?” She laughed. “See, she is a kitten.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and went to put on his skates, grumbling all the while. Mila continued smiling after him.

“…Um,” Vera said as she tapped Mila’s arm to get her attention, “You’re my favorite female skater.”

Mila stared at her a moment before shouting, “Yuri! Yakov! We’re keeping her!”  

Yakov just shook his head at his students’ antics. “Mila, work on that step sequence again. Yuri, warm up.”

Mila returned to skating, while Yuri finished lacing his skates and went to the opposite side of the rink. Vera stood there not sure what she should do until Coach Feltsman snapped at her.

“What are you waiting for? Stretch and then get your skates on.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

It wasn’t long before she too was on the ice, working on basic drills before she moved on to practicing her jumps. Maybe it was because she had been watching Yuri and Mila practice out of the corner of her eye but a thought suddenly popped into her mind: What if she tried a double?

With that idea urging her on, Vera jumped higher and spun faster. A full rotation… 540 degrees… a full 720 degrees! Vera’s heart leapt in excitement for a split second. Then her blade landed wrong. She tried to counter-balance but it was too late. She hit the ice with a solid thump.

“Ow.”

The sound of blades gliding to a stop echoed in her ear. When Vera looked up, both Yuri and Mila were staring down at her in mild concern.

“I’m okay,” she said as she scrambled up.

“Vera!” Coach Feltsmen yelled from the side of the rink, “Have you been given permission to start practicing doubles yet?”

Vera glanced down guilty. “…No.”

The coach’s frown deepened, while Mila snickered.

“You fit right in.”

Vera blushed at the compliment.

“You botched the landing because your foot was angled sloppily,” Yuri commented.

She nodded and then glanced back over at Coach Feltsman with pleading eyes. “Can I try again?”

He stared at her a moment before answering, “We might as well see if you can manage a half decent double salchow before practice is over.”  

[casualarsonist]

Watch_Dogs 2 review (PC)

I do play other games, you know. 

I’m mid-way through a bunch of games, and finished others but just haven’t gotten my thoughts together about them. It’s just really easy for me to speak my mind about Ubisoft games, because there’s so damn many of them, I’ve played so damn many of them, and their features are all iterative, rather than innovative, so there’s always an established base for me to speak from. In saying that, my review of the first Watch Dogs was one of impressed incredulity - it’s a really decent game. If it was the only open-world game that Ubisoft had released, it would have been lauded. Its use of the digital hacker trope as a gameplay tool to manipulate the city’s infrastructure in real time, as well as to peer into the private lives of each citizen, and the lengths it went to construct a vast series of interpersonal interactions amongst the NPCs resulted in a believable and interesting gameworld, and some genuinely thrilling cat-and-mouse car chases through the city streets. Unfortunately it was at the tip of spear during an infamous period of graphical downgrading when Ubisoft would naively stir hype with technically unfeasible pre-release gameplay footage, and then inevitably get hit with backlash when the actual released version of the game was necessarily downgraded in terms of its looks in order. 

I say ‘downgraded’ rather than ‘it looked worse’, because Watch Dogs has never looked ‘bad’. It’s not as swanky as the pre-release footage, but it still looks great, and it boggles my fucking mind when I try to consider how enslaved to the shareholders the people making the marketing decisions must be, how out-of-touch they’d have to be to fail to predict the backlash, or how dishonest they are if the backlash is some kind of considered collateral as long as the pre-orders rack up. In any case, the announcement of Watch Dogs 2 received a not-undue amount of skepticism in return. Given how deceitful the marketing of the first game was, I was shocked that there was much interest at all. But Ubisoft smartly chose a bold new style to contrast the drab and morose look of the previous game, and this strange, quirky, fun-looking experience did the trick and sparked interest. Instead of the Windy City, we were treated to sun-kissed San Francisco. Instead of the gruff, grumbly ‘brown-haired white male protagonist #375’ (I can’t recall his name), we had a collective of young, crazy, wise-cracking hackers. The foundation of the original Watch Dogs was solid enough for this to be enough of a change, and so it was that Watch Dogs 2 was released to a reasonable amount of praise. 

For all intents and purposes, it’s much the same game, but it fits an era of Ubisoft releases I’m going to refer to as ‘Newbisoft’: that is, the era in which Ubi seemed to finally get that its output was repetitive shit, and started making the barest effort to disguise it. The collectibles have been scaled down and replaced with places of interest that one can photograph to accrue experience points. The ‘experience points’ have been replaced with ‘followers’ - ostensibly reflecting the rise of your hacker collective as you complete missions and tasks. Other busywork activities such as pointless races are still there, as are Assassin’s Creed’s loot chests in the form of money bags lying in protected areas patrolled by gang members or security forces, but in putting them within an area that one must sneak into, seeking them out feels more like a mission than it does mindless filler. The amount of cash needed to purchase the various weapons and vehicles is generally quite high, and this feeds a desire in the player to want to engage in this cash-grabbing - you’re not getting six useless reales at a time - so it’s less irritating in this way. But if you stop to think about it too long, it’s unmistakably the same old bag of tricks. 

As for the game itself? Well...it’s okay. As an open-world Ubisoft game, it’s fine. It’s far too long, and if you’re anything like me and put off the story missions for fear of finishing the game and missing loads of content, you’ll quickly find out that the side missions aren’t actually side missions, but rather a near-endless series of tasks that you’re required to repeat four or five times before each matter is resolved. This pads out the play time by a dozen hours at least, and by the time you’ve finished the majority of them you might feel rather sick of the experience as a whole. Gameplay-wise it’s again similar to the first, although there seems to be a greater focus on gunplay than on setting and activating traps. This undermines the few unique elements of the series as a whole, as it’s simply more enjoyable to walk into an area and shoot anything that moves than it is to try and knock people out one at a time, only to have them wake up a few minutes later and shoot you in the back. Also, I, for one, didn’t mind the general seriousness of the first game. It gave the narrative a sort of singular focus that I felt impelled me onwards. Was it melodramatic? Yeah. Did I have a clue what was happening? Not really. But it contextualised the player’s exploration of the gritty ghetto areas, and construction sights, and grimy backalleys of Chicago, and resulted in a very evocative experience. Meanwhile, Watch Dogs 2 is all sun-shine and rainbows. Everything is in technicolour. All the characters are upbeat and exaggerated, and while I won’t fault the acting (except for the main character, who, amongst a band colourful of misfits, proves time and time again to be the most annoying and bland member), it feels like there are no stakes and no genuine repercussions for their actions. Their foggy mission-statement of dismantling the establishment and ending the reign of privacy-invading corporations is vague, and directly contradicted by the player’s actions in game as you peek into the secret lives of every single NPC you come across, or steal from their bank accounts, or hijack their cars, or run them down as they chat with friends. The characters are, by and large, as virtuous as can be, but in the course of completing your missions, the collateral damage is enormous. Watch Dogs 2 is a game that has crafted a story and characters that are at odds with the central conceit of the gameplay. This was not a problem with the first game, whose tale of rage-fueled vigilante justice was not opposed by the player’s in-game actions. 

That’s not to say that it doesn’t get anything right, of course. As mentioned, the acting is generally great - the character of Josh, a brilliant hacker with Asperger’s, is particularly charming and well-performed. It also carries on the previous game’s commitment to crafting a believable world with hundreds of nuanced, varied, and entertaining interactions between the NPCs that populate the city. I’m going to go ahead and say that Ubisoft’s efforts with the Watch Dogs series are about on-par with Rockstar in terms of creating a believable world filled with interesting characters. Every single NPC has a story. Every single area of the world is filled with incredibly detailed locations. At one point I came across a group of people who were trying and failing to take a photo of themselves with a self-timing camera. I stood in front of them and aimed a selfie at all of us and they stopped what they were doing and started laughing - the woman who was so desperate to have their photo work threw her hands up and grumbled. These people weren’t planted anywhere particular - they were just standing in an innocuous place by the seaside. The moment stood out to me amongst the thousands of other people you see around, but I could’ve put a hundred hours into the game and missed them. Other people will swear at you for taking photos of them, or play up to the camera, but this one particular group lost in this massive city had this one specific reaction, and I’m still not sure where it was something uniquely programmed, or whether it was just a particularly smooth example of the established systems working together in surprising harmony. 

The ability to interact with the city’s infrastructure only adds to the feeling of immersion. There’s plenty of joy to be found standing on a street corner during a rain shower and triggering the traffic lights, or causing cars to come to sharp stops or careen off the road. I found myself relying far less on the Watch Dogs ways of escaping danger though - blowing steam vents used to fill me with delight, but I found myself just hiding in alleyways far more often this time. The enemy AI is much more intelligent, no doubt, but the low-rise buildings of San Francisco offer less places to hide from helicopters, who quickly become the bane of your existence, and force you into long getaway chases from one end of the map to the other. 

The online aspects of the game are back, and are still entertaining. Drop-in co-op modes are accessible, if a little underwhelming in terms of what they ask of you, and the Bounty Hunter mode that can sometimes trigger automatically if you or another human player has been wanted for long enough will send you fleeing from the law AND trying to outwit other players as they race around trying to blow the shit out of you. It’s an arseload of fun seeing what lengths other players will go to in order to escape - at one point I dove off a bridge after a player, plunging into the water below behind him, and as he slowly swam away I hijacked a fishing trawler and ran him down. The nature of the game’s systems allow for abject chaos, and this is never clearer than when indulging it with other players. However, this too suffers from feeling somewhat less satisfying than that of the previous game, particularly when it comes to the ‘hacking invasion’ mode. As with the car chases, the lack of verticality and relative sparsity of pedestrians mean that there are few places for a person to hide, so in a mode that requires you to blend in with your surroundings, the most effective tactic is often just to put as much space between you and the other player. Standing in groups of people rarely works because there are rarely groups of people to stand with. Finding a spot to crouch and using the cameras to spot the other person rarely works because there often isn’t a spot to crouch that isn’t exposed. Once again, the brighter, happier change of scenery has transformed the game for the worse. 

And I think that cuts to the core of the issues with the Watch Dogs 2 - the changes are predominantly tonal, but the issues with the first game weren’t. Ubisoft fucked up because they pulled a bait-and-switch on the public, and because they milked their formula dry and sold it to an exhausted audience, not because the game wasn’t silly enough. Newbisoft’s Watch Dogs 2 is only new in spirit, and the changes they’ve made are, as always, iterative rather than innovative. It’s also one of the most unnecessarily draining games I’ve ever played in terms of the computing power required to run it to any reasonable standard. I had to rebuild my entire computer just to get it to run higher than 40fps. There’s no need for that, especially not for a game that is, to some extent, a glorified Saints Row. It could be a case of some rose-tinted hindsight, but I'd personally recommend the first game over this one, in terms of raw mood and action. It’s not perfect at all, but it’s darker and grittier and I think that kind of tone is better served by the gameplay. However, that’s not to say that this isn’t worth a play. If you’ve never played a Watch Dogs game before, then maybe this is the better place to start? It’s fun...at least for the first dozen hours, before it gets tedious. But then, can’t you say the same for nearly everything Ubisoft has ever released?

7.5 civilians killed out of 10