#there is a time and place for excited half-informed monologues.

[hexjulia]

so hard not to become the most annoying person on earth if you're a little excitable and just learned a little about a topic literally no one around you has any interest in

[achrams]

𝐑𝐪-𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: On your nightly walk you run into a stranger, who befriending seems a lot more beneficial that previously thought.

𝐂𝐰: Vampires, blood, biting and obviously some good dry humping.

Being a huge fan of all things mythical had always been a part of your life. The idea of living in a world full of creatures that were better and stronger, probably more attractive too, though that just might be your humble opinion, it all filled you with excitement. That fascination had transferred over to your later stages in life, given how often you had hoped to catch one of those creatures of the night. Any would do, you just wanted proof that you were right. That this world had more to offer than plain grey days mashed into one dull blob.

Though despite your biggest efforts nothing seemed to work, nothing  at all. You’ve practically tried everything you know! If you look past the fact that all the information you held had come from reddit of all places, but that's beside the point. What mattered is you didn’t give up. Not an ounce of determination was left unused. Every single day the routine progressed until you didn’t even realise it had become a part of your life.

---

The days had turned to months and those into years. The hope was not lost but it was faltering ever so gradually, the countless tries had formed smaller and smaller acts. If before you went out of your way to really create contraptions or play chemist in your kitchen, then now you murmured a few sentences from a ‘spellbook’ before bed. It wasn’t much but it was something, because you still had some hope. Even if it was little and fragile.

On a fortunate evening, you had decided to take a stroll around the park that surrounded your lousy flat. A sanctuary between the tall rubbled buildings. You didn’t know what urge had pulled you into the crisp nightly air but you decided not to worry your head over it, no need to start overthinking. ‘My body just needs some fresh air..’ That's good enough of a reason for you.

Taking the first step outside was nice and relaxing after having to escape the rotten to the core hallways and clunky elevators of your building. It was a nice reminder that even in a place like this, there was a chance at some peace. A deep breath in, you closed your eyes for a moment. Savouring the gentle breeze and fresh air that rejuvenated your tired body.

The stars looked back at you when you opened your eyes despite liking the use of your other senses. “This is nice… every night should glow like this..” The words had left your lips without any further thought. Seems your heart let the love you held for the night out without seeking permission from your brain. It was a pretty sight were it not covered by clouds or light pollution most of the time.

A crack was heard and you snapped your head behind you. Eyes squinted from the darkness but also to show the concern that threatened to paint the canvas of your face. ‘There's no one here. Calm down.’ You thought to yourself as you took small steps backwards, keeping your eyes in the direction of the suspicious sound. ‘Just in case.’ That’s what you told yourself as the silence you once found peaceful now turned into something more of a lingering tension.

“Ookay, one step at a time..we are good..we are okay. I am totally not being creeped out-!” Your inner thoughts had turned to a monologue, between yourself and this ‘totally not there’ being in a bush, somewhere in the middle of your descending steps. Another step backwards and a plethora of emotions filled your core. Fear, surprise and then relief on top. All because a cat decided to jump out of the bush you had your eyes locked onto.

“Oh thank god..” The words breathed out into the chilly night as you rested your hand on your heart for a moment. You knew for certain that you weren’t insane now, it had just been a cat! Nothing to worry about. Stretching yourself up straight from this odd half hunched position, you turned around to actually go on this walk of yours, instead of fighting with cats that probably wouldn’t even bat an eye in your direction.

As soon as you turned around you got a face full of something hard. “Ow!” Rubbing your hand against your forehead from the impact. A few groans left you before you managed to apologise to whoever you had turned into.

“Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going.” You spoke as you finally opened your eyes to be met with a guy. Not just any guy, a guy whom you have never seen before in your building or anywhere near this outhouse of an area. It was surprising to say the least. Meeting up with a complete stranger in the middle of the night. Totally not suspicious.

“Ah, it's alright. You seemed distracted enough, I should have said something.” You shrugged back at the apology being granted to you. A little sheepishly, letting go of your head to try and get a better look at this mystery man in this low lighting. ‘An accent. Interesting.’

“Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before.” The words were friendly enough despite the eerie way everything had been playing out thus far.

A moment of silence filled the air, sadly the awkward kind. ‘Nevermind..probably not the best idea to try and make friends at midnight-’ Your inner debate about continuing this conversation was interrupted. “Julien. Nice to meet you.”

Taking his held out hand, you shake it as a sign of respect while Julien continues speaking. “I’m visiting family here. Never seen this area before..quite uncanny of a place.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the description. It fits this place a little too well.

“Yeahh, this is what happens when you work just to get by.” A shrug left you as you sigh, stepping by him as you bury your hands into your jacket. “Hope you find this place at least somewhat pleasing.”

One or two steps past Julien and the guy had seemed to scramble from his spot to walk next to you, awfully happy as he kept looking around and sniffing the air a little. To make the walk a little less awkward you coughed and asked, “Sooo, special day?” to which Julien looked at you confused.

“I mean, you said you were here for family and you look happy…?” A noise of understanding left Julien as he nodded and vibrantly began explaining how some family lived nearby and they were planning to get a whole party set up for a feast of sorts. ‘Foreigner things probably.’ You weren’t one to judge so you nodded and listened.

---

The walk went relatively well, it was honestly quite odd how well the two of you got along and so fast too. Almost like this was fate, if you believed in such a thing. Soon enough you considered Julien a friend, going on midnight walks one too many times to count while he was in the area, but it’s not like you minded. It was nice, Julien was nice.

He had a nice smile that always seemed to shine with every joke you did and his hair, oh his hair, the way it moved when he nodded along when you spoke. Last but not least of all his eyes, they seemed to speak more than Julien himself. So playful and warm with the way he looked at you, making you feel less alone in this city you had to call home. 

Though there always seemed to be a hidden glint in his eyes. When you spoke, seemingly distracted with making the stories more interesting with dramatic hand movements, Julien looked at you. No, he didn’t look, he admired. Took in every detail of your being from top to bottom. You noticed it. Julien wasn’t as slick with his hungry glances and licks of his lips than he thought. You felt his eyes on you more than you’d seen him look at the pathway you two were walking on.

One night, however. you had a lot of fun and out of the blue turned to him after having gained the courage to ask, “Do you want to come over?” Julien looked back at you for a good moment before smiling back at you with one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen. “I thought you’d never ask!” That was all you needed to hear to know that Julien wasn’t some stranger who’d leave you behind after his time here.

No clue where the need and courage came from, especially after registering in your mind that Julien seemed to be eating you up with his eyes every time you two were together. Perhaps you had the urge to hopefully prolong this friendship. It was nice to have a friend when all you knew were creepy elders that probably saw things that weren’t there.

---

With a smile you opened your front door and stepped in, holding the door open with a simple, “Come on in, make yourself at home.” The slight anticipation and worry on Julien’s face faded and he walked in. Muttering a small ‘thank you’ as he walked past you and now that you saw him in actual light, he looked even more ethereal than before.

Guiding him in you showed hospitality by offering drinks, foods, snacks, anything to welcome him but his eyes seemed to be glued onto the odd contraptions around your house. Refusing everything you offered with a smile. Your house gave off a rather interesting and floral vibe, but it seemed out of place for this dry block of a city. Embarrassment flushed your face as you stood before Julien, preventing him from eyeing everything so attentively, then looking down at him so he wouldn’t be inclined to stand up from the couch to take a closer look.

“Uhm, those are nothing, don't mind them!” You chuckled awkwardly, yet he seemed to tilt his head to the side to keep taking glances before Julien mumbled through a hearty laugh. “Are you trying to lure something into your home?” His face held an odd smile, like he knew something. You seemed to be too caught up in your embarrassment to notice that Julien seemed proud.

You averted your gaze to save yourself from the embarrassment of having to explain that from a young age you’ve been into mythicals and have been trying to catch one. With a sigh you sat down next to Julien on your couch and started speaking. Hoping to get this out the way so it wouldn't be brought up again. “You know those childhood stories of werewolves and vampires?” One look in Julien’s way and he was already nodding his head along with a small knowing smile. “So, basically I am convinced they’re actually real…and I might have been trying to see one. By…trying to catch one..”

The sigh you let out was deafening and so was the silence that followed, lingering and looming over the room. A chuckle brought your gaze back up to meet with Julien’s, effectively having broken your insecurity filled thoughts. “No luck then?” You had to laugh along at the absurdity of this confession. “No luck.” You let out an airy chuckle while shaking your head. “ Honestly I’m starting to doubt they were real in the first place.”

Julien seems to hum for a moment, his eyes lingering on you for a bit too long. Turning to properly face him, you give a slight brow raise and Julien smiles. “What if I tell you they are real?” His smirk widens and he seems more and more proud. Smug about something you can’t wrap your head around.

Instead of your confusion subsiding it actually increases. A lot. “You don’t have to lie to me to make childhood me happy.” Dismissing what you had heard. You didn’t need pity for something you had decided to not believe in as of 3 minutes ago.

“I’m not lying.” Julien pushes on and moves closer to you on the couch, trying to see when you would catch on. “They are real.” The scoff that left your lips couldn’t be helped. Looking away with a grumble, you had missed the frown that have made it’s way onto Julien’s face.

“Trust me..” Julien whispers oddly close to you now. You hadn’t even noticed the moment he had leaned over to practically kiss all the way up your neck. With a shiver you turn your head to try and look at Julien. Confused why he’s so adamant on having you believe this fantasy.

Within seconds you feel his lips on your neck, pushing you to lie down on the couch while he straddles you. “You see, I am one of these creatures.” Julien continues, his thighs holding you down on the couch while his hot breath fans your skin. “And my god do you smell divine. You probably taste godly too..”

No time was left for you to voice your scepticism and confusion about how you had ended up in this position. Pinned under Julien.  Because as soon as you wanted to say something, to ease the doubt behind your eyes, Julien had pressed his sharp fangs against your skin. Piercing through it with a satisfying rip only you could hear. ‘They are real. What the fuck!?’ That was your initial reaction before it began morphing.

‘Fuuck..’ your second thought was accompanied a sharp breath in, very well, so well in fact that it gave off the idea you had liked it. Which you, surprise surprise, did like. You had never expected to meet a guy, have him be a vampire, become friends, invite him over and then have him feast on you. Pressing your eyes shut as you came to terms with the tingly and slightly burning sensations that came along with being a blood bag for a vampire. 

To Julien’s surprise you didn’t push him off at all, just lying below him. Taking this. All pinned for him. He could hear your heavy breaths and the way your hands had moved to hold his shoulders. Hands tightening around his shoulders when it had become slightly painful, drawing out a low breath of pure delight. A groan if you will.

With slight hesitancy Julien pulled his teeth out from your skin, lapping the treasured bite clean to both save precious blood and to ensure you didn’t stain anything. Then he looked down at your flushed face with a twinge of amusement. His eyes travelled down to where he was straddling you. Your eyes still pressed shut as you’re more concerned with calming your erratic breathing even though you could feel Julien’s eyes travel down your heaving body.

Julien licked his fangs clean and shifted in his place, drawing out another groan from you. “Someone seems to have liked being fed on.” His words smug as he looks down at you, letting his fingers leave feather-like touches against your neck. The bite he had left there. It sent a thrilling sensation through his body. Seeing how you withered and shivered below him. A perfect guy to snack on.

“You’re mighty hard against me.” The words are more teasing than the last, purposefully grinding his hips against your hard on to prove a point. With a whimper you finally opened your eyes, staring at him with mild embarrassment. “Shut up-”

Your bratty protest was easily silenced by a meticulously constructed grind against you. “Shit- mmh..okay fine it..sort of felt good when you did that.” A fang bearing smile made its way onto Julien’s face. He ran his hand up your torso to play with his bite mark again. “That's rather cute. Getting all hard for me from a bite.” 

Julien leaned down to look into your eyes, holding onto your chin to keep you looking at him. The blush and slightly pouty look on you tugged at Julien’s heartstrings. “How bout this..” he proposed, his words sly and clearly in his favour. “You let me drink some more and as a reward I'll help you out with your problem.”

It didn’t take more than a second of consideration from you, because as soon as the words ahad left Julien's mouth you were already nodding. Begging with your actions to keep this going. You didn’t know why, but it felt so good. So good to have Julien feed off you. Not only did you have proof that these creatures were real. You had one right here on top of you. Only an idiot would let such a perfect opportunity go to waste. Aand you happened to be a self proclaimed genius.

A lick up the other side of your neck earned a shiver alongside a small groan. You could feel how Julien smiled against your skin. It was clear that he was enjoying this a lot more than he let on. You were certainly going to put that information to good use. Feeling how his fangs grazed along the delicate skin of a human, you let your hands sneak their way to Julien’s sides while he was distracted.

With a smirk you held him down against you and bucked your hips up. The sudden action made Julien’s fangs enter your system with a small yelp from him. Having Julien connected to you, sucking out your delicious blood, gave you a perfect recipe for satisfaction. 

Keeping him down atop you, you grind your hips up against him. Feeling the way both friction from your movements and the pressure from your jeans add to your straining dick, it was enough to draw out some breaths and shudders here and there. Though the star of the show was Julien and his fangs that were lodged right into you.

Julien in return had pressed his head against you harder, trying to get as much blood from you as he could. Hands holding your shoulders while he sucked on your neck. As a bonus it seems like your grinding had started to affect him and with small pants against your neck Julien began grinding his hips down against your dick. A perfect melody of pleasure and pain. It was wonderful.

Feeling how both of your straining hard ons pressed against one another. The friction from thrusts into nothing and pressure from trying to stimulate your erections made both of you needy. Feeling how your dick twitched in the limiting confines of your pants urged you to keep going. To satisfy yourself like promised by Julien.

Your already breathy and whiny mouth let out a louder whine from the loss of fangs in your neck. Julien was becoming sloppy, too pleasured out of his mind to continue feeding on you. Truth be told he didn’t need to anymore but you just tasted heavenly to him, so an extra snack later on wouldn’t hurt, yeah?

The sight of your neck stained red with iron, flushed face and parted lips added to Julien’s need for release. He pressed himself down harder and faster, desperately grinding against you with renowned determination. You followed along with just as eager moves against Julien as he moved against you. Hands gripping onto Julien’s hips as you murmur, “Pleasepleaseplease- Mmh!”

Feeling the pit in your stomach tighten, grow warm with every mutual thrust against one another. Pants and frantic bucks driving home the pleasure that threatened to consume. Julien moved down to finally lick your dripping neck clean, the sensation of his wet tongue adding to the immense pleasure of a nearing orgasm.

To your surprise however, it seemed that the licked up blood didn’t make it to Julien’s system, but instead was consumed by you. His lips pressing against yours as he forced you to taste yourself. The metallic liquid coating both of your mouths. It was a sudden chance and one that gave the final push.

With a groan into the kiss and a relatively more forceful thrust against Julien, you came with a shudder, feeling how Julien had done the exact same. Shuddering and panting against each other. Body convulsing against the couch as you come down from your high. Julien sat up straight, letting go of the kiss in a sensual way with his lips begging to stay connected to yours. To have your taste a little longer.

Julien breathed heavily on top of you, enjoying the sight of a satisfied human and being a satisfied vampire himself. Both of you letting out heavy whines and pants as blotches of sticky and wet residue slowly seep through both of your pants. It was a little pathetic. At least both of you came, right?

“You taste godly, and I bet you would feel even more exquisite.” Julien panted the words out as he watched you shudder when he touched your softening dick. “Unfortunately, I'm more than full for now.” 

Feeling how your chin was made to face Julien, you forced your eyes open and he smiled back at you. That same damned sweet smile. “I'll be back for a taste soon enough, make sure you rejuvenate yourself.” A quick cheeky kiss was pressed against your lips before Julien got off you. Swiftly moving to the closest exit, which happened to be a window, and leaving through that.

Your unfocused eyes only caught a glimpse of his figure turning to shadows as he disappeared into the night after murmuring something of a ‘Good vampire summoner’.

You were too hazed out of your mind to properly make sense of everything. Panting and overwhelmed, still coming down from your climax. ‘How the fuck did I get myself into this mess?’ You murmur to yourself as you finally let the activities of your day and now vampire filled night take over. Closing your eyes to get some rest and then maybe…hopefully think about this with a clear head tomorrow.

‘...shit.’ You couldn’t fall asleep at all. All you could think about was how it felt to have Julien sink his teeth into you and lap up your blood. Yeah…you better go and take care of your needy erection before you accidently manage to summon an incubus.

[icarustypicalfall]

Hi! I have a silly request but since we are both Rudy lovers (i am also radiant cod) can you please write a short little react on „I want uns to move in together“ especially Alejandro, Rudy, soap and ghost. Oc is female and ask that question 😭🥰

Hello fellow Rudy lover :3

Of course!! this is such a cute thing request awwh :')

DRABBLES!!

Cod Men's Response to reader asking them to move in together!!

Including: rudy, alejandro, ghost, soap Warnings: sfw, pure fluff, fem!reader Note: I can do a p2 with the rest of the characters if y'all are interested :D

«Moon, tell me if I could

Send up my heart to you?»

Rodolfo Rudy Parra

From the moment you met Rudy, you knew he was the right man. Not only because of his sweet demeanor, but also because of his charming personality and kind nature that made you fall hard for him. You and Rudy have been dating for almost a year and a half, and he has always treated you like a precious and delicate creature. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

While you lived in the southern side of Las Almas with your family, Rudy resided in the bustling center of town. Getting to meet him was always a significant journey, especially with the increasing cartel crimes that made it unsafe to roam the city. However, the allure of spending nights in your lover's apartment was irresistible.

You were ready to take the next step in your relationship and couldn't wait to tell him. One late night, after spending the day together at his flat, making pizzas and dancing, you cuddled on the couch, sipping the Champurrado he had made. Rudy chuckled and gently wiped the chocolate mustache stain from your face before speaking lovingly.

"I haven't had this much fun in a while, mi amor," he murmured, brushing the strands of hair away from your face. "You seem distracted, amor. What's wrong?"

You sighed, placing your mug down, knowing it was the perfect moment to ask him. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you gathered your courage.

"Promise me you won't get mad?" you said, looking into his eyes.

"You didn't like my abuelita's recipe?" he replied, giving you a disappointed look, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"No, it's... I just miss you, Rudy. I feel like we're wasting time living apart. I wish we could... you know... live together. And it's..."

"You want to move in with me?" he interrupted, cupping your face and looking both serious and surprised.

You slowly nodded, furrowing your eyebrows, wondering if it was indeed a good idea. But Rudy's expression turned into a wide grin, as if to make sure you weren't joking. He pulled you into a warm embrace and showered kisses all over your face. Then, with a surge of excitement, he babbled in quick Spanish giving you a whole monologue, though you couldn't quite make out the words.

You assumed he was just thrilled, as he jumped up and rushed to grab his phone, yelling, "TE QUIERO TANTO MI AMOR!" before locking himself in the bathroom to happily inform Alejandro.

translation (i love you so much my love!)

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

After the betrayal of Phillip Graves and witnessing your lover wounded but still fighting with all his might, you were certain of two things. Alejandro Vargas was a loyal man through and through, and he was the man you wanted to be by your side until the end.

It was quite amusing how you had never considered moving in with him sooner, given that you both worked on the same frontlines, fighting against the same enemies, and spent countless nights together guarding your beloved country. The time had come to embark on a new chapter together, though you were unsure if he would agree. However, the thought of losing him that day shattered any trace of doubt or fear, leaving you with an overwhelming desire to hold him in your arms.

After a delightful dinner, you joined Alejandro on the rooftop of the base, a cherished ritual the two of you shared. Sitting in his arms, gazing at the stars, was the highlight of your day, especially since Alejandro was always busy with his duties. He motioned for you to come closer, opening his arms to welcome you as you rested your head on his thigh, relishing in the sensation of his fingers running through your hair. You inhaled his musky scent, your eyes fixed on the dark expanse above. Alejandro's smile brightened as he planted a tender kiss on your forehead, then whispered softly.

"My love, is everything alright? I haven't seen you this pensive in quite some time," he chuckled as you rolled your eyes, prompting you to share what was on your mind.

You sighed, sitting up and locking eyes with him. "I just...miss you," you confessed.

Furrowing his brow, Alejandro nodded, encouraging you to continue. "Miss me?" he queried.

"It's just...I wish we could spend more time together. I thought a part of me died when they took you away. I thought I would never see you again. That day made me realize how much I love you, Alejandro."

His gaze softened as he uttered a heartfelt, "I love you too," nodding for you to proceed.

"Would you like to move in together?" you blurted out, looking in his eyes with a hopeful yet anxious gaze.

The grin on his face widened, and he looked away briefly, his cheeks flushing with excitement. He bit his lip, unable to contain his joy.

"I was actually about to ask you the same thing, mi cielo..."

SIMON GHOST RILEY

You and Ghost were like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together, despite both being reserved and chilly individuals. Behind closed doors, you shared a love that no one expected to blossom. You connected on a deeper level, communicating your feelings without the need for words. It was as if you could understand each other's thoughts. Just like Simon, he wasn't fond of people, and neither were you.

Silence was your sanctuary, and you relished in the tranquil moments, indulging in activities during the early dawn or late night when the world was at its calmest. Spending the night at Simon's small flat in the city, the most peaceful corner of the bustling nation, felt like being in a place where you truly belonged.

He allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, gradually revealing more of his true self, shedding his mask on certain days, and even letting you take care of his hair and face.

Those special days spent together created cherished memories. Deep down, you yearned for more, wishing he could be the last person you saw before bed and the first person you woke up to. You hoped he felt the same way. Simon believed that actions spoke louder than words, and he made sure to keep you happy, occasionally letting slip a heartfelt "luv you."

Once again, you rose early to a cold day, with the usual morning fog lingering until the sun's rays pierced through.

It had become a habit to take Simon's dog for a walk before breakfast, as the nearby coffee shops opened up. Side by side, you walked in silence, inhaling the stillness and watching the droplets of water on the road. Simon placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, drawing you close for warmth as he calmly asked, "You alright?"

You sighed and nodded, your hands fumbling to warm them up. He clasped your palm, tucking it into his pocket, grumbling, "You should have told me straight away. There's no point in venting to Gaz." You looked at him in shock, feeling your cheeks flush. He had overheard your conversation with Gaz about how much you wanted to move in with Simon.

Ignoring your embarrassed state, Simon muttered, "Next time, tell me. I never said you weren't welcome there. Didn't know you had a parrot's brain.. that place is your home too." You gulped, staring at him in astonishment. "You, you don't mind?" His response was simple, he looked away and you swear you saw his eyes twinkle for a moment, "Never said I did."

JOHHNY SOAP MACTAVISH

The holidays were approaching, and you knew that you wouldn't see Johnny for at least two weeks. It broke your heart to be so close yet still apart. The Scottish man resided in a different city, causing the pain of distance to gnaw at you. No matter how many nights you spent together, one of you always had to leave in the morning, leaving the other to bathe in the sorrow of separation.

You longed to gather the courage to ask Johnny to move in together, but fear held you back. He was a composed man who loved you more than his beloved mohawk.

As everyone packed their belongings for the holidays, preparing to return to their flats, family homes, or partners, you entered Johnny's room and set your sports bag aside before sitting on his bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as Johnny scowled, procrastinating on packing until the last minute and now struggling to fit numerous shirts into his bag. You folded a shirt, assisting him in the task before smiling.

"So, Johnny, what are you going to do when you go back?" you asked. He grinned, carelessly tossing the clothes into the bag despite your protests. "Well, bonnie, I'm going to visit my family, and then I'll come to your place andbkidbap you and make you spend the rest of the holiday with me." You laughed and shook your head. "Can I tell you something, Johnny?" He furrowed his eyebrows, mumbling as he focused on his packing. "You'll come to my house. My mom has been dying to meet you. No excuses."

You chuckled and replied, "Well, I mean... I'd love to meet her, of course. But what I was actually talking about... do you think it's time for us to take the next step?"

The look on his face was priceless, and you had to playfully slap his arm to prevent him from blurting out something scandalous. "Not that way, you idiot. I meant... I think we should move in together. It feels like the perfect timing."

His grin widened, and he swept you off your feet, twirling you in the air. "I can't believe you said that, bonnie.. We..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence as he slipped on one of the shirts scattered on the floor, causing you to fall on your rear while he ended up trapped in his bag.

"Bonnie, help me!" he exclaimed. You chuckled and teasingly remarked, "I"I think I might just reconsider this step..."

𓆩♡𓆪

MASTERPOST

kindly like and rebelog, it motivates us to continue :)

[thisworldisablackhole]

The Rise of Endymion, by Dan Simmons - 2.5/5

Finally wrapped up the Hyperion Cantos. It's a bitter sweet moment. This final book is hard for me to talk about. I could probably write a thousand words about it, but I'll try to keep it brief, because brevity is the soul of wit. Something Dan Simmons could have considered, perhaps.

The Rise of Endymion was a struggle to get through, to be honest. The prior book (simply; Endymion) was a fun, action packed interplanetary man hunt with relatively consistent pacing and enough turns and twists to keep things engaging. This one is hardly any of those things. The pacing in this book was straight up bad. Simmons' writing is at it's best when things are happening, but every time some form of action happened in this book, it was cornered by ten page descriptions of clouds and the colour of peoples clothes that frustratingly interrupted the flow. Hell, the entire section on T'ien Shan felt like a data dump with only brief sections of actual plot movement. The monologues were also so rough to sit through because it felt like Simmons was just using character speeches as another way to dump data, summarizing things we already know and tying up loose ends that honestly would have been better left as mysteries.

Aenea and Raul continue to be shallow characters as well, which is nothing new, but this time the good characters weren't utilized enough to make a difference. Raul displays some incredibly eye rolling and predictable behavior during the course of the book as Aenea turns into some flat, robotic guru figure. She's supposed to be the symbol of empathy, but her emotions were not convincing in the slightest (I guess she is part cybrid after all). Aenea and Raul's entire relationship just bordered on creepy and unbelievable. The only interesting development from Aenea was at the very very end where she shows an uncharacteristic burst of impulsivity and rage. Father De Soya still remains the best character, even though he was absent for large chunks of the story, and A. Bettik had hardly any presence at all. The Shrike still shows up but isn't even scary or interesting anymore because it's basically the good guy now. Most of the other side characters were forgettable, there were simply too many of them to keep track of in the first place.

I can count the actual exciting moments in this book on one hand. It's way longer than it needs to be, it's packed full of unnecessary information that disrupts the flow, it's cringe inducing and ridiculous at times. It's also very, very heavy on the romance and religious philosophy. Simmons is lucky that I mostly agree with and respect his feelings on religion, or I probably would have stopped reading it. Organized and corrupt religious institutions are the bad guy in Simmons' books, but he also preaches the beauty of faith and love and ability to choose what one believes in without judgement. It's all wonderful stuff, but sometimes it's so on the nose that it feels like a personal rant from the author.

Despite all of that, I still loved this book. Simmons really turned things around in the last 150 pages or so, and wrote the best possible ending that he could have, which was a total shock to me as the endings of all the previous books were pretty lackluster. It made the entire slog feel so worth it. It was riveting, tragic, beautiful, profound, it put me in tears, god damnit. I was weeping like a child. Not only because of how good it was, but also because it hurt to close the last page on a world and characters that I've spent the last four and a half months immersed in. Would I recommend it? Not really... but despite how utterly disappointing this book was at times, I still feel forever changed by the world and philosophy of the series, and I'm glad I stuck it out to the end.

[hotmessexpress2023]

The Short Story

A short story is a work of fiction comprised of several thousand words, but not more than 5,000. A novella is usually thought of as a longer short story or a short novel and can range from 5,000 to more than 40,000 words. The key word to understanding the short story format is "story" in just a few words the best short stories tell us a tale of sight, sound, thought, and action that helps us to understand and relate to a compelling moment. What we learn from what the characters say and do during that decisive moment gives us insight into the human condition and builds our humanity.

In their own way short stories and novels help us to understand ourselves and our universe, but they do so in markedly different ways. A novel might center on one central story and several side stories that can span and extended period of time, generally the action in a short story revolves around just one incident that happens during a brief period of time. Another difference between the short story and the novel is the number of characters. A short story will focus on only one or a few characters, whereas a novel may give us half a dozen or more.

Good fiction that contains no dialogue, only pure narration, does exist, but well-written, realistic dialogue can be a great addition to the telling of any story. A dialogue is a conversation and what better way to tell a story than by having the characters speak the words. Dialogues are particularly important to movies and play scripts. A dialogue serves two purposes in a short story is to deepen our understanding of the characters and their personalities and to further develop the plot. When characters speak, they give us an indirect line into their minds and their makeup. You can also us dialogue to illustrate the relationships between characters and show how those relationships change in moments of conflict or enlightenment and to reveal crucial information about plots or other characters. Interior monologues and dialogues can point out character's uncertainty, inner turmoil, feelings of self-worth or self-loathing, excitement, and anger the full range of emotions and thoughts. A viewpoint is another area in which short stories and longer fiction often differ. A novel may have several viewpoints a shorth story generally doesn't have the luxury of space in which to do this. Varying viewpoints can also disrupt the strong, immediate identification that readers need to feel with short-story characters. Short story writers need to jump right into their subject and keep right on going. the best short story endings resolve the conflicts that have been ongoing in a way that shows how the characters, or the situation, have changed. Effective endings satisfy readers and often surprise them. To sum up short stories generally have:

A simple subject, usually one that lets the story take place within a brief period of time.

Only a few characters, which are quickly developed.

Dialogue is an action that moves the story forward.

One point of view.

A fast-paced, reader grabbing beginning.

A middle that doesn't ramble but proceeds in a direct route to the end.

A strong ending that completes the story and provides understanding and satisfaction.

A plot and characters that give us insight into the human condition.

"A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it." - Edgar Allan Poe, Poet, Short-Story Writer, and Literary Critic.

[lilywily143]

The Jock Stereotype Reversal and The Voice of Reason

No one knows how much I love this drone. My view of him never shifted so fast either.

Look, the moment I saw this sports man, I instantly thought he would be a stereotypical jock.

And the whole thing where he complimented Uzi and she got all blushy, it made me think I would hate this drone.

Jock idiot crushes aren't a type I like.

But after his last scene in the episode, I got his personality a bit more. Revisiting his initial scene made me love him more.

One of his first things he says is actually being careful with what he says. He says, "I'd say everyone knows Khan's daughter, but then you might blow the other half of her face off."

He actually made sure to not make her mad about something he wanted to say.

He asks her about her new item and she gets excited and rambles about her plans for the day. And she does shove the gun in Thad's face, scaring him a bit, but he calms down a bit as he listens to her little speech.

He even makes a little nod as she speaks, which does indicate he is paying attention to her before he comments on what she says.

When her plan settles in Thad's mind and he realizes it sounds dangerous, he tries to let her know that it doesn't sound safe. But she doesn't take it lightly.

Also, I do like how Thad doesn't seem scared about a gun in his face a second time. He just instantly got used to Uzi's energy.

His next scene where the Murder Drones got into their safe place, he is the only drones willing to fight them in the group. Even though he is clearly hurt

And he even tries to get the "adult" drones to do their jobs and defend [well more be on the offense], but it doesn't work.

He is nearly killed by a drone before Uzi and N come back to save them and defeat the murder drones. And he's just so happy and compliments the two of them, even though he is nervous around the Murder Drone.

I feel like the stereotype of a jock would try to say he could have been fine without their help when they clearly needed it, but this guy is grateful for the duo saving him.

He's also the only one of the group here to say something nice to either of them, while everyone else is quiet; past the initial clapping. It lets you think he is more open to being nice [definitely more than Liz /lh].

In the next episode, he has an even bigger role with the main characters. He helps Uzi out by grabbing her gun from the safe spot last episode, despite being nervous to hold it.

But I do like how whenever she rambles, he just patiently waits for her to finish.

He also compliments the two of them again for saving him. Even though they are his saviors as he calls them, he talks to them like normal drones and has even given them nicknames. N is "N and M's" and Uzi is "Zi"

The big thing I noticed while watching this episode again, and it's that Thad almost acts like a voice of reason to Uzi.

Uzi self-banished herself from home to live on the outside and she even monologues about how she 'can never go back' which clearly shouldn't be what she should do.

Her being on the outside makes sure she has almost no drone interaction. And the only two are Murder Drones, one that keeps trying to scare Uzi away and the other Murder Drone that is only willing to go with whatever Uzi does and won't go against her ideas at this point.

Thad is the only worker drone that she interacts with before she 'un-banishes' herself, and he was the one to get her back.

He informs her about what is going on at home, how the drones seem to not be taking her banishment seriously. But he does go for the side of their home saying they are just "..more confused". Which is understandable, no drone ever seemed to try and banish themselves before.

The main that he says that convinces Uzi to get back home is talking about a topic she is involved with but scares him, the murder drones.

Thad talks about missing drones and the corpse of a drone 'crawling away' which encourages Uzi to come back.

Most of the following scenes have Thad following Uzi with her plan, which is interesting. He obviously is scared about things with the murder drones - besides the one that saved him -, but he comes along with her investigation around the killed murder drone.

Whether he does it so make sure she's safe, or keep her in 'check' like he has been, or because he feels like helping his saviors; he comes along.

Then he gets captured by the almost rebuilt corpse.

When the corpse tries to fool the two with a hologram of Thad, they don't fall for it for a second. So they definitely seem to know about Thad a lot like a friend.

They save him and he is instantly complimenting them, inviting them to a party of his. Seriously, he calls them his saviors and he just still treats them like friends and not superb heros.

I also thought it was fun he called them cool kids by insulting the corpse for not being invited since "Cool kids only" will come to his shin-dig.

I do hope we see him again a bit more, but he does seem stuck in the side character role these last two episodes that are out. n^n

[runnning-outof-time]

To Be Alone | Tommy Shelby x OC | Chapter 19

Masterlist

Next Chapter

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: It takes a traumatic experience for Lizzie to have a change of heart on her opinion of Celia, and luckily, Tommy’s there to stop Celia from spiraling as she comes to grips with what she’s done. A phone call gets in the way of her finding out what happened that night he didn’t return home.

Warnings: smoking, language, weapons, assault, murder, minor character death

Word Count: 3228

A/N: this one’s a bit intense. I tried to keep the descriptions of the actual act brief and focus more on the fallout of it. Enjoy!

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

———

"Are we all here now?" Tommy questioned as Arthur walked into the main room of the betting shop. He had called a family meeting to talk about the recent moves within the business.

Family meetings always stressed Celia out. Why? Well because at family meetings, there was always that chance that things would get out of hand. Even though she knew now that her parents were in a much better place being back in America and all, she still panicked when tensions between people rose to the point where they were flat out yelling in each other's faces. They were also tough for her because Lizzie was always in attendance. The two women were still not on nice terms with each other.

A chorus of 'yes's' gave Tommy the signal to keep talking. "Right, so Arthur, you will be going to meet with Alfie Solomons to discuss how things are going in Camden Town. Business should be alright, and the Black Country Boys are doing what they can, but Alfie has still requested to meet," he had just started off and already there was an objection.

"Why me, Tom?" Arthur questioned, more out of curiosity than anything.

"Because he and I are at a standstill, and I know you won't be pushed around," Tommy responded, making Arthur nod, his chest puffing out slightly from the confidence he had just gained. Celia didn't miss the furrowed brow expression that John gave to Tommy, and what made her chuckle was that Tommy also noticed it but said nothing to his younger brother. "We are going to have some of our lower level men be taken in and arrested by the cops so that they can get their numbers up, but also so that we will have people on the inside. It has been said that one of Sabini's men is currently behind bars. Having some of ours in there can elicit more information on the moves that he is going to make before he makes them," Tommy paused to listen for any objections before carrying on, "I have heard good things from May Carleton, that the horse is getting closer to being ready for the derby that is quickly approaching..."

Tommy continued talking but Celia wasn't listening after he mentioned May. She wasn't able to speak with him about how his night at her estate went down because in the week and a half since he had returned, they were like two ships in the night, barely having time for each other. This didn't help to quell Celia's thoughts, the words Lizzie told her that night filling her head almost constantly.

"Are there any questions on what I just said?" Celia turned back into his monologue just as he was ending it. No one spoke up, so he continued once more. "How are the earnings looking, Pol?" he asked his aunt then.

"They've been up," Polly answered with a smile and a nod.

"Good to hear. Esme, how have you been feeling?" he then asked the woman who was sitting next to her husband, her hands resting atop her baby bump that was starting to protrude now.

"Just fine, Tom," she smiled at him, just hearing this made Celia smile. At times she wondered if she was more excited for this baby than Esme was.

"Any other orders of business to be had?" Tommy asked once more, "Michael...Arthur...John...ladies?" he named off his brothers and cousin before looking at the women, all of them shaking their heads. "Right then, consider this meeting finished. I'll be in my office," Tommy stated, placing the cigarette he was smoking back in between his lips before he moved to where his office was located.

One by one the family members filed out of the betting shop, save for Polly and Celia, who decided that they would stick around to balance some of the books after today's bets. As they were working, they saw Lizzie walk out from the offices with the intent of leaving for the night. "Bye, Lizzie," Celia called after her, trying so hard to bury the hatchet, but Lizzie ignored her. Celia just sighed and continued with what she was doing.

"I have to show this transaction to Thomas. Something doesn't look right here," Polly stated then, standing from the chair she was sitting on before she grabbed the book and started to walk in the direction of Tommy's office.

Celia continued to work on the books, tapping the pencil she was using against her forehead as she tried hard to compute the numbers in front of her, her mind not wanting to cooperate with her. She was so focused that she almost didn't hear the screaming coming from a woman outside. Then she listened in and there was silence. Maybe it was nothing, she thought, going back to her work. But then she heard it again, and this woman sounded like she was in pain. This made Celia stand from her chair and go running into the street, hoping the woman would make a sound again and that she could find her. She didn't need that however, because when she looked to the left, she saw two figures engaged in a struggle, and they were moving in the direction of one of the many alleyways the city had. Damn Birmingham and its alleyways. The woman was now screaming for help, and as Celia approached the scuffle, she could see that the woman was actually Lizzie Stark, and a man was holding her against him, his arm wrapped around her throat.

"Let her go!" Celia screamed, not slowing her stride as she reached down into her stocking where she now carried a small blade with her at all times. Tommy had actually given it to her after the night the person tried to rob her, telling her that it would come in handy in keeping her safe when he wasn't with her. She would have laughed if someone told her that the first time she'd be using it would be to save Lizzie Stark, the person she probably despised the most in this city.

"Get the fuck..." was all the man was able to say before his voice cut out from Celia wielding the knife and plunging it into the first area of his body she was able to, which so happened to be his neck. The man went limp and Celia shrieked at the fact that she had just acted in such a way, but her attention quickly went to Lizzie, who had fallen down with the man and was now sobbing on top of his body.

"Come on, Lizzie," Celia stated softly, extending her arms in order to help her up. The woman on the ground took hold of her outstretched hands and allowed for Celia to pull her up, finally now putting their past tribulations behind her. "Let's get you somewhere safe," Celia told her, wrapping her arm around the woman's body in a protective manner. Lizzie was slumped over as she limped with Celia back to the betting shop. Her hands being full, she used her shoulder to open the door and when it hit the wall behind it, Polly jumped up out of surprise. "Get Tommy please, Pol. Lizzie's been attacked. She's hurt," Celia barely got out, trying to catch her breath as she brought Lizzie over to one of the chairs around the table. Lizzie slumped down once she was sitting. Her clothes were torn, there were small bruises covering her face, and her nose was bleeding. She was shaking, partially from the coldness of the outside, and partially from what she had just gone through.

Soon enough, Tommy burst through the doors onto the betting floor, a frantic look in his eyes, Polly following close behind him. "What's happened? Where did you find her? Are you alright, Lizzie?" he showered questions on the women who looked like they'd just gone to war. Celia, although she wasn't injured, still looked pretty disheveled from having to help Lizzie back to the shop.

"I heard her screaming so I went outside and saw her being pulled to an alleyway by a man," Celia explained, Lizzie then chiming in breathlessly to tell him she was alright. Polly had already begun assessing her injuries, concluding that she only had surface level bruising and that nothing else major was wrong with her. There was a collective sigh of relief at that.

"Ok. I'll get some men to go out and get the bastard that did this," Tommy stated through gritted teeth, obviously angry that a woman who worked for him had been assaulted, practically right outside his betting shop nonetheless. Celia managed to grab his forearm before he could get too far, making him turn around to look at her. "What?" he questioned, the word coming out a little bit harsher than he intended, but his emotions were running high now. Revenge was the only thing on his mind.

"You're not going to need to be sending anyone out, Tommy," Celia spoke, her voice low as she tried to keep herself calm.

"Why not?" Tommy asked, eyeing her carefully with furrowed eyebrows. He was confused as to why she didn't want this man to be hunted down and killed for what he had just done.

"Because I'm pretty sure he's already dead," Celia dropped the bomb, the entire room becoming so quiet that she probably could hear a pin drop. Her heart was beating so loud in her ears right now, and she hated it. "I...I used the knife you gave me, Tommy," she sputtered out then, coming to the realization of what she had actually done. She felt like breaking down, she had just killed a man, but she knew that now wasn't the time for her to try and command the full attention in the room. Lizzie was still sitting feet away from her, completely bruised up and broken from just being in an attempted kidnapping and possible murder for all she knew.

Tommy's eyes widened slightly as he put together her words, knowing that he also had to stay calm now. That him acting animatedly would probably scare her more. "Ok. Well.." he trailed off, clearing his throat as he tried to think up a gameplan on the fly, "I'll have some men retrieve the uh...the body and then dispose of it," he said then, choosing his words carefully so he didn't add more panic on to Celia's plate. He could already see how she was dealing with this. Celia nodded along with his words, trying to dissociate herself from the whole thing.

The room fell quite then as Polly finished up with putting some type of gel on the cut Lizzie had on her jaw. Then Lizzie decided to speak up, "thank you, Celia. You saved my life out there," she said, sincerity in each of her words.

Celia sent her a smile then, still internally trying to calm down and stop the panic attack that was trying to take her over. "You're welcome, Lizzie. I'm just happy I got there in time," she spoke as sincerely as the other woman did.

"What was between us is water under the bridge now. I know your intentions," Lizzie spoke then, shocking Celia slightly. She guessed that it took a near-death experience for Lizzie to come to grips that she didn't mean anyone any harm and that her presence didn't warrant any harsh feelings. That she was actually good for Tommy - Lizzie herself had begun seeing it in the smaller things he was doing. She just didn't want to admit it.

"Thank you," it was now Celia's turn to thank her, "it already was for me," she added then, no malice in her words. Tommy looked between the women as they spoke to each other, confusion on his face. He decided that it was better to let it be than to delve into what they had previously disagreed about. He had an inkling of what it possibly could have been, and he was happy that the air had been cleared between them now.

"Would you like me to take you home, Lizzie?" Polly offered then, looking at the dark haired woman who was sitting on the chair.

"Yes, thank you, Polly," Lizzie nodded, a small smile on her features. The older woman helped her up then, a comforting arm around her as she walked her to the door.

"I'll make sure that I get a new knife for you, Celia," Polly grinned in her direction then, and Celia remembered that she, too, kept one in her garters for these very problems. Celia tried to respond, but her mind wouldn't let her. Luckily, Polly's statement wasn't really one that warranted a response.

Just as they were going to say their goodbyes, Celia felt something shift inside of her. She knew then that the floodgates were about to open. "Excuse me for a moment," she barely got out before she was practically running past Tommy into his office and over to the table set against the wall, where she knew he kept his bottles of liquor. She poured herself a full glass and drank it down, cursing to herself when it didn't immediately stop her shaking hands. Of course it wouldn't kick in right away. She then poured another glass and was in the middle of tipping it back when she heard Tommy's footsteps approaching her. She willed herself to put the decanter back onto the glass tray as he entered his office, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes fell onto her.

"Are you ok, love?" he questioned, slowly moving closer to her in hopes that he wouldn't startle her because at the moment she looked very on edge.

"I just...I just killed a man, Tommy," she breathed out, setting the glass next to the decanter before she looked at her shaking hands.

Tommy took her shaky response as his ok to move even closer to her so that he was able to wrap her into his arms. "It's ok, love. You saved someone."

"But I killed him. I stabbed him...in the side of his neck. He choked...fell to the floor and went limp. I went to help Lizzie but he didn't make another sound and just...laid there," she stammered out, still shaking in his arms as she tried to recall what had just happened. That man was probably still laying there right now. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to picture it.

"You did the right thing," Tommy told her, pressing his lips to the side of her head. He held her tightly then, not speaking until she decided to, hoping that the quietness in the room would help to calm her down.

"There's still goodness in me, right, Tommy?" she asked then, her voice coming out in a broken whisper.

"Yes, Celia. There is so much goodness in you. You just saved a woman who was fearing for her life...a woman that you didn't necessarily like, might I add," he trailed off as she moved in his arms so that her head was now pressed against his chest.

"I still have goodness in me," Celia said, moreso to herself than Tommy, but Tommy nodded along with her.

"You're just coming off of the adrenaline, love," he assured her, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back. "You're gonna be ok."

"I just killed a man, Tommy," she breathed again, her tears soaking through the material of his shirt.

"I know," he said quietly. "I remember the first time I killed a man..." he trailed off after a few moments of silence. Celia kept her head in his chest, but she was listening now. "During the war. He was part of the company that was making a charge on ours. I shot him. Watched as he fell...the life left his eyes, and something in me changed. Like a piece of me had died with him," he paused, clearing his throat as Celia finally lifted her head to look at him, her eyes immediately meeting his. "It doesn't get easier. I still acknowledge the bodies that pile up, that have been piling up since that first man, but I've become numb to it now - numb to the act of it." Celia felt like an idiot now, blubbering about this to a man who has probably killed more people than he could remember, but hearing how he reacted to it at first made her feel better. "You still have goodness in you, Celia. Please don't let yourself think that you don't," he told her then, his hands now pressed against her cheeks as he searched her eyes.

"Thank you, Tommy," she breathed, closing her eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She then let him lead her out of the office and to his house, which was on the other side of the betting shop's doors. They sat on the couch in front of the fire, Celia placed her head on Tommy's shoulder while he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. For a moment, she contemplated asking him for one, but she didn't want to risk possibly falling into the habit of always needing one just because her nerves were frazzled this one time. "You said that things are at a standstill with business in Camden Town?" she attempted to make conversation after they had been sitting silently for a few minutes. She had felt like she was calm enough to finally hold a conversation with him now.

"Let's not talk about business tonight, love," Tommy waved her question off, his eyes focused on the fire as he spoke. Celia sighed and accepted the silence that fell between them once more as she tried to think of something else to say.

"How about that night you spent at May Carleton's? You haven't told me about that," she tried with a new topic, waiting intently to hear what his answer would be.

Just as he was about to speak, the phone in the office began ringing. Tommy sighed as he stood from the couch, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray before he moved to the doors that separated the home from the betting shop. "I need to get this call. It's probably Alfie," he told her, not giving her a chance to disagree before he opened the doors and disappeared into the betting shop. Celia sighed at the feeling of being alone once more. She was just about to have her worries quelled with him telling her how that night went. Now she didn't know when she would be able to bring that topic up again.

So Celia sat on the couch and stared at the fire until ten p.m. turned into midnight, when she finally decided that Tommy probably wasn't going to be done with the call any time soon. She could still hear him practically yelling orders into the phone as she stood from the couch and climbed the steps to Tommy's bedroom. There, she stripped from her clothing and grabbed a shirt from Tommy's wardrobe, slipping it over her shoulders and buttoning it up before she turned off the light and slipped under the covers, going to sleep for the night.

———

Tagged: @mootiemoose @theshelbyclan @alreadybroken-ts @cloudofdisney @stevie75 @honey-im-hotdog @kagome1414 @epicwaterlemon @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

Warning: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader relationship.

Summary: After freeing the widows from chemical subjugation and destroying the red room, you and Yelena finally settle down.

Part 1 & Part 2

The widows welcome you, the ones you trained with and the ones you didn’t. After Dreykov was gone and you had nothing but time. Melina and Alexei go to work on replicating the antidote. Creating enough to free all chemically subjugated agents.

It’ll take time. But the more you free the more are willing to help. Some of the widows just leave once they are given freedom. Ready to wash their hands of all of this and start living. You understand that more than anything. Eventually the operation is running on such a large scale they hardly need you at all.

Natasha hasn’t reached out since you separated after the red room. Probably off with the Avengers trying to save the world again. No one blames her, for her inability to be still. Not even Yelena.

“So,” you plop down on the couch beside Yelena. “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know.” She admits, staring up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far.”

“Yeah.” You tug at a loose strand of her dirty blonde hair. “That makes two of us.”

“We could pretend to be normal.” Yelena offers. “What would a normal person do?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “I’ve never been one.”

“Maybe...settle down.” Yelena’s eyes are far away.

“Would you have wanted to-“ You break off, trying to sort out the words. “I mean if you could…would you have a baby?”

She raises her brows, “I never thought about it.” A long pause. “I wouldn’t know how to be a mother.”

Neither would you. You’ll never be right. Whatever that is, was, or might have been. Always a little too guarded and rough around the edges. “You never waste time thinking about things you can’t have.” You sink farther into the cushions, her pinky skates over your own. Taking the invitation you twine your fingers together.

“I thought about you.” She lowers her eyes to the coffee table. “Everyday. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I-“

“The red room took that from me too.”

You shake your head at her. “They can never take anything from you or anyone else ever again,” you whisper. “And to be clear you can have me.”

A laugh rumbles out of her chest at the news. “I can?”

“I mean if you still want me.” You tease, “I know that the chase is half the fun for you. So I can keep on running. I’m one foot out the door-“

“I am tired of running.” Yelena murmurs, curling up against your side.

“Me too.” Your chin rests atop her head.

“Then stop doing it!” She scolds, slapping your arm playfully in retaliation.

“I will if you will.” You know why she runs. The same reason you do. Because you’re afraid. That maybe some parts of you are too broken to love.

She mulls it over for a moment. “Truce. I don’t run. You don’t run.”

“Deal.” You give her fingers a squeeze.

“Except into the face of danger.” She clarifies, only half kidding. “Then we run, straight ahead.” Yelena motions with her free hand. “But together.”

“Together.” You agree, with a soft smile.

“We could get a dog.” The tone of her voice tells you that she is invested in the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind a dog.” You prop your feet up on the coffee table.

Yelena hates anything but a straight answer. Still feeling the need to convince you, she presents the facts. “Dogs are really cool! They have special powers.”

You chuckle, “dogs do not have powers.”

“Yes!” Yelena argues, “they can predict natural disasters and judge character.”

“That’s a special power?” You quip, “I can do that too.”

She grumbles under her breath.

“I want one.” You sigh. Feeling all the tension leave her body.

“I knew you did.” She smiles, contently.

———————————————————————

Dogs might have powers, but the only thing your puppy currently seems to posses is the ability to chew up anything in her path.

“Yelena have you seen my-“ you pause, taking in the scene before you, “shoes.”

“Don’t be angry,” Yelena holds up a hand.

The tiny puppy beside her squeaks, not quite a bark yet. Your demolished sneaker tumbling to the ground.

“What happened?” You run both hands over your face.

She sweeps the dog into her arms. “I told Fanny we could go for a walk once you got out of the shower. She was excited, Y/N! She was trying to bring your shoes to you. But she got distracted, only a little.”

“A little?” You can’t help but smile.

“Look at this face,” Yelena waves Fanny’s paw at you. “You can’t be mad at this face. Tell her girl. Say, you can’t be mad at me Mom, I’m trying my best.” She brings the dog closer.

You raise a hand to pet Fanny lightly. Yelena’s right of course, there is no being mad at that face. “Let me find a pair of shoes that isn’t mangled. Then we’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll wait with Fanny.”

“Of course you will.” You retreat to your bedroom. Rummaging through the closet in search of some sort of footwear. You’d settle for slippers at this point. Fanny joins you after a moment. Nuzzling at your ankle as she whines.

It’s not everyday that she follows you, she is Yelena’s dog and never lets you forget it. “You’re really excited aren’t you?” More whining. You scoop Fanny up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You huff, finally locating a pair of sandals. Slipping them on quickly so you can return to Yelena and gloat about being Fanny’s favorite. “Hey baby, I don’t know what you did, but look.” You smile, gazing up as you present the dog…to an empty room. That’s odd. Maybe she’s waiting outside.

You grab the leash Yelena abandoned on the countertop, securing it to Fanny’s collar. “Come on girl. Let’s go find Mama. Where’s Mama?”

Fanny follows you out the door, onto the walkway.

“Yelena?”

Nothing.

You scan the area, no sign of her. “Ok…” Back into the house, you check the bathroom next.

“Yelena!” You shout, knowing you’ll feel stupid once she replies. But she doesn’t.

A buzzing from the cell phone in your back pocket draws your attention. You set Fanny down gently, accepting the call and moving the device up to your ear. “Alexei?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god!” His voice booms through the speaker.

“Are you ok?” You ask immediately. Leaning down to grab the television remote, turning to channel thirteen, still broadcasting it’s usual gameshow.

“I am alone.” He cries through the speaker. “Melina left me with her pigs.”

“What do you mean she left you?” Something is very wrong.

“She disappeared.” He says somberly, “didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” The dramatic monologue continues. “I give her back rub every night and then-“

“No,” you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Under no circumstance is he going to tell you what happens next.

“I have made mistakes, but this! This is cruel.” Alexei, clearly distraught begins cursing in Russian.

“Alexei, I know you’re upset but I need you to listen.”

“What?” He asks. “What is it?”

“Yelena is gone too.” You inform him. Your eyes flicker over the words at the bottom of your tv screen. “People disappeared all over the world.”

You fall back onto the couch, feeling all the air leave your lungs.

More hysteria on the other end of the line. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m gonna find Natasha. Maybe she knows something.” Assuming that Natasha is still here.

“What about me?”

“Come to Ohio. You can dog sit.” You offer, familiar numbness seeps into your limbs.

“I have nine pigs!” Alexei shouts back.

“We have a backyard, don’t worry.” You hang up before he has a chance to argue.

You return to the call screen. Scrolling to find a different contact. Pressing the dial button beside her name.

It rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello.”

“Natasha,” you let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What the hell happened?”

——————————————————————

The Avengers fortress isn’t exactly how you imagined. Not very homey.

You park your car in the lot. Removing your keys from the ignition and stowing them in your back pocket. The clear rectangular keychain with a picture of you and Yelena inside sticks out. Clinking when you round the vehicle to retrieve Fanny from the passenger seat. “Come on, Fanny.”

She wags her tail, waiting expectantly to be carried.

“You’re spoiled, you know.” You sigh, taking the puppy into your arms and closing the door behind you.

The front gate is open but Natasha takes a moment to locate. She cut her hair up to her shoulders, dyed it blonde. “Hello stranger.”

“You got a dog.” She says, in greeting.

“Yeah.” You reply, not in the mood for small talk. “It was Yelena’s idea.”

“I knew she’d sucker you into that.”

“It’s not like she could make me do anything I didn’t want to.” Your finger slides along the edge of the metal table Natasha’s seated behind.

She barks a laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Maybe so. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Still cool. I like the hair too,” you motion toward her blonde locks.

“That’s not really mine either, is it?” She remarks.

“Is anything ever really ours?”

“No.” She frowns. “I guess not.”

“What happened?” You ask again.

“It’s a long story,” Nat crosses both arms over her chest. “You might want to take a seat.”

You clear your throat, pulling out the chair beside her. Fanny curls up in your lap, curious eyes darting about every now and then. You tell yourself it’s because she’s in a new place, but part of you knows, she’s looking for Yelena.

Natasha stares down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of infinity stones?”

You shake your head. “Must be an avenger thing.”

“There were six of them, scattered all over the galaxy. If a person has all six they can use them in anyway they choose. Thanos, used them to eliminate half of all living creatures.”

“Are you the only one left?” You lean in.

“No.” She sniffs, blinking away tears. “There’s others.”

“So where are they?” The place looks abandoned. “Why aren’t you charging into battle?”

“Because we lost. Probably the worst we’ve ever lost.” Natasha clenches her jaw. “By the time we found Thanos again he already destroyed the stones.”

“We’ll try again.” You decide immediately. This isn’t over.

“Will we?” Natasha shakes her head with a smirk.

“If she was gone for good I would know it.” You tell her truthfully. “I would feel it, in my heart and I don’t.”

“You didn’t see it happen. I saw him snap his fingers and-“

You lay your hand over hers, squeezing tight.

“Did you see her go?” She asks, voice just above a whisper. “Yelena. Did you see her?”

“No.” You confess, “I didn’t see.”

Natasha closes her eyes. “That’s why you still have hope.”

“Look maybe you’re right.” You shrug, “even so, now seems like a really stupid time to give up.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Fanny.” You inform her.

“Come on.” She rolls her blue eyes. “You’re kidding right? Tell me you didn’t actually name a dog after one of those stupid aliases Rick made me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“I guess a dog’s better than a pig.” Natasha reasons. “Are they still here?”

“Not Melina.” You break the news quickly. Like tearing off a bandage. “But Alexei and all nine of her pigs are on their way to our house in Ohio.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Always room for one more.”

——————————————————————

You stay like that for a long time. Hopeful. Sure that this was all some nightmare that you could wake up from; fight your way out of.

And then five years passed.

Now you come to see Natasha twice a month, just to check in. Alexei and his pigs have taken up permanent residency in the home you bought with Yelena. As for you, you bounce around. Never staying in one place too long.

“Any news?” You wonder, leaning against the doorframe of Natasha’s meeting room.

“No.” She bites out. Kicking her foot up on the desk. “You should move on.”

“Is that what you call this?” You flick your wrist in her direction. “Crying into a peanut butter sandwich.”

“It’s therapeutic.” She waves the bread at you. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

“Nah.” You take a seat, reaching across to make a sandwich of your own. “It’s not the sandwich’s fault.”

“Am I interrupting the pity party?” Steve says, announcing his presence. Captain America is as self righteous as ever.

“Didn’t you grieve for a century over a girl you kissed one time?” You arch a brow at him, licking wayward peanut butter from the pad of your thumb. “Five years is just a drop in the bucket.”

Steve purses his lips, you have a point. “It wasn’t a century.”

“Close enough.” You mumble around a mouthful of your dinner.

“Want a bite?” Natasha offers half of her sandwich to him.

“No thanks.” He takes a step closer. “I’d offer to make you a real dinner, but already look pretty miserable. Where’s your dog?”

“Visiting her granddad.” Everyone and their mother loves that damn dog.

“Oh yeah, my great adversary.” How could he ever forget. “Is he still wearing that stupid suit?”

“I’m pretty sure the suits are stowed away. But it’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Your mind wanders to the vest. The one Natasha returned to you after Yelena was gone. The one you retired because it doesn’t smell like her anymore. Nothing does.

Most things remain untouched in the Ohio house. Your pictures. Your memories. Your plans. You can’t get rid of them. Can’t stomach being around them either.

Someone, a man, alerts the security cameras, pounding on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home? Hello! Can you hear me?”

���How old is this video?” Steve asks, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s the front gate.” Natasha breathes, enlarging the image.

“Do we know him?” You squint at the man in question.

“It’s me, Scott Lang, Antman. I met you guys at the airport in Germany a few years ago. I had a mask on, you probably wouldn’t recognize me.” He rambles on.

Natasha presses the access panel, opening the gate.

You straighten yourselves out, before he makes it down the long hallway into the common room.

Scott paces, a lot. Nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Scott.” Steve finally cut in. “Are you ok?”

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ok. Alright so, five years ago. Right before Thanos. I was in the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like it’s own little microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my uh-“ he trails off. “She was my…she was- she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“I’m sorry that must have been a long five years.” Natasha apologies.

“That’s the thing, for me it wasn’t.” Scott replies. “It was five hours.”

“What a trip.” You snort, absently toying with your belt loop.

“The rules of time are different there. See everything is unpredictable.” He explains, getting distracted by the food in your hand. “Are you gonna finish that?”

“I guess not.” You hold it out to him.

He accepts, gratefully stuffing the bread into his mouth.

“Scott! What are you talking about?” Steve demands.

“So what I’m saying is time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But if we did, if we could somehow control the chaos; to enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time and exit at another point in time…like,” Scott locks eyes with you then. “Like before Thanos.”

You nod.

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Steve sighs, running a hand over his tense forehead.

“No. No of course not. Not like a time machine but like a…yeah.” There’s no other word for it. “Like a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it! There gotta be some way.”

“Scott,” Natasha calls his attention. “I get emails from a raccoon. So nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“So who do we talk to about this?” His eyes flicker between the three of you.

“Don’t look at me.” You hold both hands up. “That’s way above my pay grade.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @3and30aresoultwins

[korasonata]

So, the original plan was to do these quotes until Joe and Cleo finished their models, which was half accomplished during this stream (yay Cleo!). Question is should I still continue these after Joe has finished his model, or have we had enough now? Favourite moments of Joe and Cleo model stream part 7! Link to the video is below and time stamps are above each set of quotes!

Link: https://m.twitch.tv/videos/1155955572

—

00:32:05

Joe: This is our weekly paper craft stream. I’m joined today by ZombieCleo, who you can find at—

Cleo: Hiiiiiiiiii!!!

Joe: — twitch.tv/zombiecleo. You don’t need to type the “hi” in the middle. Although it is adorable, and so I wouldn’t blame you.

—

00:56:25

Cleo (in response to someone saying they like Hershey’s chocolate): I mean you can like the chocolate. It’s ok to be wrong. It’s fine. You know, you can—

Joe: A certain amount of the other person being wrong is to be expected in any relationship.

Cleo: Yeah! Look at my relationship with you, Joe.

Joe: Yeah, I mean we’re— we’re off the charts for that.

—

01:01:15

Joe (changing into his chroma green tank top): We can’t have people seeing my torso.

Cleo: Oh you know, yeah you— you are a cryptid.

—

01:02:04

Joe (doing a face camera expansion): these chains I’ve forged in life are about to begin pulling me down to the deep below! Enter the Jhoooooooost!

Cleo: Can I just point out that “life” was very southern. At that point. (Heavy southern accent) Life.

Joe (heavy southern accent): Life.

Cleo: Laaaaaffe

Joe: Liiiiife *both laughing* These chains I’ve forged in—

Both: laaaaffe!!

Joe (heavy twang): Pullin’ me daaan to the deep behlooow!

—

01:07:16

Cleo (in response to Joe having a laughing fit): And that is one of the rare times where Joe has a complete, absolute giggle fit on stream

Joe (still laughing): Ok I’m sorry, but “puritans go home” is the best thing to put on anything worth— ok im gonna start making a— ok. (Serious) Im gonna start making an actual checklist cause, um, (actually writing down a checklist of things he’s taking to his parents for thanksgiving) ok thanks—giving twenty twenty—one. Ok so, salad cream.

Cleo: *wheezing*

Joe (reading list): “Puritans go Home” icing on pie…Um, you know let’s just throw iron brew in there. Why not! Irn-Bru and vodka!

Cleo (laughing): Sure! Why not!

Joe: Yeah. Well, so, my maternal grandmother was Scottish and—

Cleo: oh I’m sorry.

Joe: —so I think my mom would get a kick out of Irn-Bru. As like “oh! Here’s something from the old country!”

Cleo: *physically wheezing* from the old country!

—

01:29:43

Joe: Oh, it’s really fun. Did you know that a bunch of people on Tumblr care a lot about how tall each of us are?

Cleo: Yeah. Yeah.

Joe: Yeah, oh man I’ve been spreading information and taking weird height pictures with people at conventions for years. It’s like— *Cleo laughing* I’ll intentionally like stand on things or like, uh, or like stand in such a way that you can’t tell I’m crouching, so people are like “Ok, so Joe’s like taller than Bdubs but shorter than, uh, like— Stress or something. It’s like how does that happen?!” *trying not to laugh* Because I’m screwing with you.

—

01:31:11

Joe: See that’s the thing is— is sometimes people think things are about power. I think they’re just about being obnoxious.

Cleo: I mean, you think most things are about being obnoxious which is why it’s a power move for you. Cause being obnoxious is your power move. It’s where you’ve got the most power, Joe.

Joe: Hm, that makes sense.

Cleo: Sometimes I do. I try not to when I’m with you, because— it’s easier.

Joe: Yeah. You don’t wanna give me any actual like workab— or usable intelligence.

—

01:42:47

Joe (reading chat): I’ve been on Hermitcraft since season one— yeah. That was only like 10 years ago though.

Cleo: I’ve been on Hermitcraft since season 2.

Joe: Yay Cleo!

Cleo: Which was only because Joe asked me to come on, or pu— vouched for me.

Joe (genuine): Well I am glad you joined.

Cleo: I mean I was— I was at the point where I was just like “is this what I wanna do for the rest of my life? Should I just go full ham into teaching?” And, uh, then you made that offer and I thought “well, I’ll see how it goes”. And it did quite well for me. So…you know.

Joe (quietly): I am so glad

Cleo: You are the reason why I’m still doing Minecraft content.

—

01:44:19

Joe (reading chat): Attasked says “Only you can judge whether you’re hot” no plenty of people can tell I’m hot, Graved. It’s— pretty blatantly obvious. You don’t— you don’t have to be good at judging to be able to tell. Like, that’s not an only me thing.

—

02:00:54

Cleo: You ever have those moments where you’re just questioning your choices in life?

Joe: *having a breakdown* Moments!

Cleo: *cackling*

Joe (through tears): I’m sorry, you’re just the best Cleo.

Cleo: *laughing, but genuine* Awe, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to depress you today!

Joe: No it’s— *inaudible sobbing* Today—

Cleo: *dying*

Joe (quietly to himself): Is this is frame? Sorry, I was cutting this out of frame. My bad.

Cleo (still laughing): I like how everyone’s just sort of gone quiet and gone “…is Joe ok?”

Joe: nOO!!!

Cleo: We’ve established that Joe is not ok.

Joe: But I’m really good at it!

Cleo: *spitting out her drink*

—

01:49:52

Joe: Let’s go down the Mississippi, Cleo.

Cleo: I mean, that I think we could probably do. Let’s go down the Mississippi, Joe.

Joe: yay!

Cleo: On a flimsy raft.

Joe: Yeah, we can actually— there’s a lot nicer boats now though. Like—

Cleo: I mean— yeah, but do we— do— you know…it’s the Huckleberry Finn experience.

Joe: I mean, here’s the thing, is if you actually came here and I was like “Cleo, let’s go to the Mississippi River and go down the river a few miles”. I think you’d be more likely to actually say yes if I had an actual boat lined up than if I had a flimsy raft.

Cleo (excited): If it— if it— if it makes you feel better, I— I would do the flimsy raft. Like, hands down. It seems more fun.

Joe (realizing that she’s serious): I— you say that, but I don’t think you’ve seen the Mississippi River. Like, the problem is it’s full of these giant barges these days, the wakes of which would just throw your raft over.

Cleo (dead serious): I can swim.

Joe (attempting to compromise, completely lost as to how he has somehow managed to be the voice of reason): Ok…Alternatively we can go down a smaller river…In a raft…

—

02:04:43

Joe: Sorry, I’ll stop monologuing. Uh, but yeah sorry I was in the process of—

Cleo: I’LL STOP MONOLOGUING! Yeah, yeah that’s gonna happen.

Joe: yeah, I’ll- I’ll say I’m gonna stop monologuing and I’ll warn you that-

Cleo: And then he just continues

Joe: -that Cleo you should probably be ready to start talking sometime in the next 8-12 minutes.

—

02:15:26

Joe: Oh, I need to get a green screen suit jacket. Um, I realized. Cause I got the green screen, um, uh dress shirt. That I wear under existing suits, but I don’t have an actual like green screen suit.

Cleo: I— I am always amused by your definition of “need”

Joe: My definition of what?

Cleo: Need.

Joe: Need.

Cleo: I need a green suit.

Joe: Ok, I’m sorry Cleo, the people need me to get a green suit.

—

02:30:23

Cleo (reading chat): “Joe-Getters and Go-Getters” yeah, Joe’s not a Go-Getter, he’s a Joe-Getter. Which is infinitely worse.

Joe: You say being a Joe-Getter is infinitely worse, but you also frequently lament that you get me. So, maybe you’re a Joe-Getter. Have you considered that?

Cleo: I am a Joe-Getter. I do get you, Joe. Which is terrible. It’s— It’s a trauma, actually Joe, I’ll have you know.

Joe: Yeah, comprehend me and despair, Cleo.

Cleo: I looked too deep into the abyss. The Joe-byss, sorry.

Joe: Thank you, yeah we’ve got a brand. Always be branding.

Cleo: *giggling* A.B.B. - Always Be Branding.

Joe: That’s not an infinite void of despair. That’s an infinite void of—

Both: Joe’s despair.

—

02:34:31

Joe: Let’s just leave it at don’t push me off a roof. Like *laughing* I feel like anything I could add to that would undermine the overall theme of just encouraging people to not do that.

Cleo: Um, let me put it like this. I always had the capacity. Always. But! I never acted on it, Joe.

Joe: Mhm, yeah thank you.

Cleo: …yet…I’ll try not to.

Joe: Yeah. And— and also keep in mind Cleo, I mean, given, you know, how well we’ve managed to work together over the last decade. Even if you did push me or throw me off a roof. *grinning* What makes you think that you’re not coming with me?

Cleo (slightly proud): That felt like a threat. It felt like a threat. I’m not gonna lie.

Joe (through giggles): Yeah, that was the, like— I spent 90 seconds figuring out how to revise that so is it was not blatantly like a violent threat.

Cleo: I mean…yeah, I think— I think— I think between the tw— it— it’s a mutual aggression pact at this point.

—

02:51:53

Cleo (holding up seemingly two identical pictures of turret towers): Am I— am I going actually insane? Are they not…the same turret?

Joe (examining pages on screen): …y—you know there might be…subtle differences that, uh, a— you know, skilled crafts person would find unavoidably blatant. Um…I make no such claim Cleo.

Cleo: Good, because, you know…trauma…Yours, not mine.

Joe: *laughing* yeah I was gonna say. Trauma as a verb. I’m just gonna trauma you.

Cleo: *laughing* I’m gonna trauma you so hard right now.

Joe: Yeah, if you don’t calm down and agree with me.

Cleo: If you don’t agree with me, that’s— that’s your mistake.

—

03:38:48

Cleo (about authors): just be careful who you like and just recognize the faults in any media that you do like. Just don’t imagine that everything’s perfect, because it’s not. Just be open to the fact it’s not perfect.

Joe: The only perfect media is YouTube videos produced by ZombieCleo.

Cleo: Fact.

—

04:00:34

(Having finished her model)

Cleo (tiredly): No booshes. No booshes. I know it’s got places for booshes, but I don’t want to do booshes because…there’s a limit.

Joe (currently in the United States): Yeah. Well, now you can come over here and help me Cleo, is what chat’s saying.

Cleo: Ok.

Joe: Go help Joe hold this stuff he can’t glue.

Cleo (Currently in England): Hang on, hang on. *rummaging on desk* What do you need? I’ve got lots of things, what do you need?

[angryinternetduck]

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,” Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. “See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of changes

Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

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CW: Dissociation, mentions of rape, violence, unhealthy relationship, abuse of power.

Sometimes you find yourself asking what ifs. What if the Event never happened and you never received the vision? What if Ajax never developed his obsession with you? What if you treated him a little bit warmer? Would he be more tolerable? There are thousands of possible scenarios buzzing in your head, sometimes diverging just by words left unsaid or an outstretched hand being shaked. You know it’s a futile thing, thinking about the future and the present that you will never have, but you can’t stop, thoughts spiraling further and further.

This morning starts with the similar what if. What if I agreed to start again? The brief conversation from yesterday is still on your mind - you dread it’s another of the turning points in your relationship, just like the rejected handshake or the hospitalized recruit were. A moment after which there’ll be changes, changes that you won’t have time to prepare for. Speaking from the experience alone, Childe, like the rotten bastard he is, will act even worse from now on. It all started from teen Ajax following you and offering his friendship at every turn and somehow ended in him personally asking Tsaritsa to assign you to him, reducing you from a highly respectable Fatui agent skilled both in stealth and subterfuge to a glorified escort and a secretary.

One day he’ll just get tired from all of this and will forcefully bend me over in some dark murky corner, you darkly conclude, the remnants of the sleep leaving your body entirely at the grim thought. Or maybe he will break his promise not to cheat and will order me to do it.

Unwilling to think about the Ninth Wave of your unwanted relationships, you quickly stand up from the bed and start preparing for the day. Dressing and freshening up from the sleep you still mentally return to the darker place, cautious of what Tartaglia will pull out this time. Finally, you exit the door fully ready and lock the room, hiding the key under the clothes after, and make way to the fourth floor of the bank.

Here lies Childe’s working space and personal quarters , and if the former can be easily seen and entered just by walking up the stairs, the latter is hidden from view by the wall and massive door. There is a wide work desk and two armchairs placed too close for your comfort. You peek into the interior window, only to find it veiled by a thick curtain from the other side, so you decide to broaden the space between the chairs.

Satisfied with distance now, you sit at your place, taking a sheet out of the pile of documents, mostly consisting of reports of credits approved and money returned, unusually mundane yet highly classified information. Aside from accompanying Childe when he needs to beat and threaten the debts out of deadbeats, you also have to track the transactions the bank makes, a routine job consuming most of your daytime.

At the sixth or seventh fiscal account, you hear door opening and mentally brace for Ajax’s presence. Harbinger doesn’t smile, looking serious instead. You hope it has nothing to do with you, as it’s too early in the day for you to already deal with his usual mess.

“[First]”, you look up, staring at the bizarrely humorless Ajax looming over your sitting form. He clears his throat, as if he feels awkward right now, “Are you sure you won’t have one of your episodes?”

Your mind blanks for a second and then there’s a mix of shame and anger flooding your being and making you see red. Over the last months you spent working with him, he was the sole trigger of your affliction and now there are considerable gaps in your memory, in which you have absolutely no clue what happened to you. You had an inkling that Childe is aware that you are not always completely here, but a slap in the face with such casual mention is enough to render you wordless for a good minute.

“I... It happens only under certain circumstances”, you find your voice wavering and his face darkens, as he quickly catches unsaid ‘because of you’. Fortunately, he decides not to press it.

“There’s a problem at hands, one that needs your skills". These words make you do a double take - Ajax doesn't look like he's lying, speech lacking usual grandiose and bravado, yet you still can't believe he lets you return to your former work. You make a quick guess.

“Qixing?”

“Qixing” he nods,"their spies must have learned something about the sigils. It's a minor issue now, but if Tianquan or Yuheng will learn about it…"

"A diplomatic disaster and a permanent loss of Geo Archon's gnosis" you continue for him, “Fatui would be banned or seriously limited in Liyue and most of trade routes will be cut off, Ningguang can easily press sanctions against most of Snezhnayan import”. You frown at the thought, no matter what Fatui would do in such situations there's too much to lose and almost nothing to gain, even if you start destroying the investigation and replication of sigils right now, it will be a waste of possible weapons against Rex Lapis.

Then, there's one painless exit from the complicated mess: destruction of all meager material evidence and clues they somehow scraped together. Despite finally having a glimpse of a freedom, you don’t feel any excitement, but doubt instead - just a year ago, such operation would be another routine task for you, but now, having wasted months because of Childe's possessiveness, you can't help but feel incompetent.

You contemplate, glancing at him: on one hand, Tartaglia can easily send any other agents, but on the other hand, none of said agents possess a vision, a vision that you specifically molded to be a perfect tool for stealth and assassinations. He tilts his head, a hand impatiently drumming against the desk, waiting for your answer - you can infer his inner monologue - Tartaglia, just like you, is torn between his loyalty to Tsaritsa and his own feelings on the matter and this is what finally cements your decision.

You can almost see how much he itches to forbid you from taking the mission, but stops himself out of his sense of duty to Snezhnaya, and this knowledge fills you with darker type of satisfaction to the very brim: You lean back, pretending to still ponder over his words, enjoying the view of apprehensive Childe for once.

“I think, I can’t...” you start, your voice deliberately small and hesitant, watching how Ajax smiles again, convinced that you no longer have any confidence in your abilities, “let Snezhnaya be compromised in any way”.

He doesn’t let any of the anger and frustration show on his face, yet the drumming ceases, leaving you two in the silence, save for the sounds of the street coming out of the window.

You know you’re poking at the sleeping tiger, letting a childish impulses to guide your words, but the opportunity to upset Harbinger are much harder to come by these days: he took away your job, your delusion and your freedom, the least he can do to compensate is suffer in return.

“Alright”, he finally says and fails to hold back disappointed sigh “agent [Last]. Your delusion is in Ekaterina’s possession, just as the rest of the equipment. You will start tonight, information is in the upper left drawer. You have no right to fail, if you do I will write a complaint to Tsaritsa against you and personally oversee that you will be discharged”.

It’s a gambling game then, and terribly unfair at that - even if you win it won’t set you free or relocate under someone easier to handle and Tartaglia loses virtually nothing by allowing you to roam out of his sight for one night only, and by failing you will literally had your life into Childe’s eager hands.

You won’t let the bastard triumph.

***

After getting your gear and delusion back, you spend the rest of the day reading the data and mentally preparing for what is about to come. The qixing base you're to infiltrate is located awfully near the current place of sigil research, as if Ningguang or whoever planted it here already suspected Fatui from the start. The base itself is disguised as an ancient Liyuen ruin with a couple of deactivated ruin hunters placed nearby to scare off the adventurers who no doubt will try to explore it.

You are almost panting when you finally reach it - turns out that despite being easily visible from afar, the base is surrounded by the tall and steep cliffs from all sides, with the only passage bound to be guarded. Invoking to the power of your vision, you effortlessly become invisible to the eye, enter the building and almost rush back the same second - there’s a millelith passing nearby in whom you almost bumped in.

Heart racing you enter the building again, walking on half bent legs to minimize the sounds, and avoid milleliths on your way. They feel a sudden rush of frosty air, but seeing no one nearby, just write it off as a sudden midnight chill. You continue to make your way, peeking into each room, forcing yourself to remain in this form longer and longer, body aching and freezing from the overuse. Finally you see it - a stack of documents placed on the bamboo table near the oil lamp in a conveniently empty room.

Your hand is already extended to push the lamp and fake an accidental fire, when you decide to investigate the papers - it’s better to learn what qixing already knows. Your eyes quickly peruse a liyuen script, characters upon other characters - a report about suspicious activities, a detailed intelligence of Northland’s spendings and thankfully, not a word of sigils, except the note stating that Fatuis are buying a considerable amount of paper and ink.

Having memorized each of the documents, you throw the lamp now, a flame quickly spreading to the documents and soon consuming a whole table. Someone in the corridor screams about fire, four milleliths rushing in the room and you use this distraction to sneak out. Having escaped the borders of the faux ruin you quickly run, still maintaining invisibility, and only when you reach the cliffs again do you allow yourself to rest.

After climbing over the rocks, the rest of the trail is spent between jogging and walking, frost from the vision still residing inside. Bitter chill slows down your movements and you can’t help, but shiver from time to time, arms and legs aching and burning from it. You eye the pyro delusion and consider using it - unlike a cryo vision that you sculpted for secrecy and agility, the delusion is more battle-focused, able to produce quick bursts of fire in the rare occasions you get into a brawl.

Suddenly, a ball of flames explodes near you - a whopperflower bursts out of the ground, sensing you in proximity. You dodge another fireball, instinctively flinching at the sudden flash of light and send an ice blade it's way. It slightly grazes the creature's skin, yet a mimetic plant rushes back under the ground as you summon another icicle and swiftly stab it in the "head" the second it emerges again.

The plant dies in convulsion, it’s reddish walls contracting around the blade, a fast stream of boiling hot energy nectar shooting from the wound the moment you pull away the weapon. You curse, as some of the liquid hits you on the leg, burning a part of your pants and scorching the flesh underneath. Hissing and gritting teeth, you use your vision again, now to soothe a throbbing pain.

Well, at least I am not freezing anymore.

You return at the first rays of dawn, dull pain still lingering in the lower body, pulsating and echoing every step. Slightly drowsy Nadia at the entrance nods at you, her gaze at your wound obvious even with a mask on, and you nod back, a wordless exchange providing a slight reprieve, before you have to deal with Childe again.

“Hard day?”, she asks right before you enter, a pale shadow of concern in her voice. You frown, confused by the sudden disquiet.

“Something happened?”

“Uhm”, a small pause, “the boss. He was restless tonight, very restless”.

Ah, shit.

“Well, that is unpleasant” you deadpan, any remaining desire to go inside the bank vanishing the same second: “Thank you anyways” and then you step in.

Harbinger waits right there in an absolutely empty lobby - it seems that Ekaterina’s shift hasn't started yet. He’s leaning on the wall, head turning to you as you enter and immediately noticing the state of your leg. His expression grows darker, when you thought he would lighten up at your perceived failure instead.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, hints of steel appearing in his voice. You lift your eyebrows - no teasing, starters or bravado. Maybe he's so impatient to hear about your failure that he forgot to keep up the act?

You swat away his question, deciding to report on your mission instead - documents were destroyed by a set up accident, none of the qixing and milleliths saw you; he doesn’t seem to listen though, eyes still glued to the burn and then he repeats his question, voice taking the dangerous tone.

“No one, no one did it. It was an accident on the way back”, he isn’t convinced judging by the way he grabs your arm, his monstrous strength evident in the steel trap grip. “Damn” you cuss, trying to free your hand - if Tartaglia learns that you let the whopperflower of all things injure you, he won’t let you live it down and will weaponise it, to point out your so-called incompetence over and over again.

“Let me go” you tug harder, a vision coming back to life from the distress. You pull away your wrist from him again and again and then you hear it first and feel it second - a small cracking sound and a sharp pain, shooting up your arm - you broke a bone. It’s too sudden for you to realize what happened or even properly sense the shock of ache.

He lets go of you in the same second, eyes looking blankly at the injured hand. His lips thin and he exhales, in a long and strangely controlled manner - seeing Childe act and look so emotionless is sure bizarre. He hauls you up bridal carry style, ripping out a low hiss of pain as his clothes rub against the burn, and directs himself to the stairs. You're too busy gritting your teeth and trying not to cry in front of Childe to notice him climbing past the third floor and only when he opens the door to his room with a kick do you finally snap back to reality.

Despite working for him for months now, you enter his quarters for the first time. It's a spacious place, with a wide bed and writing desk located near the window. There are different weapons decorating the walls - swords, claymores, spears - all with the traces of use, and a small pile of trinkets and children's toys on the desk, placed right near the started letter, some of them already half wrapped - must be a gift for someone, then.

He sets you down on the bed and turns to the wall, taking a dagger from its place and some small container. A part of you gets scared all of the sudden - you remember your morning thoughts and all those instances when his eyes focused on your body for far too long to be innocent or comfortable. Is this it? Did he get so fed up with you that he decided to drop any pretense and abandon the cat-and-mouse game you two seemed to have?

Ignoring the pain in both limbs you jolt for the exit - there’s no meaning in fighting him, yet you can still flee, lock in your room and then plan what to do. “Stop it” he says, a warning clear in his voice, and to your frustration it’s enough to glue you in place. You look at him, heart booming in your chest, barely suppressing a flinch at every step he’s taking. He leads you back to the bed, as you feel the world warping around you again and the worst part is that you can’t stop it - It’s unfair, I can’t leave, not yet, I will hate myself for the rest of my life if it happens.

He kneels down, blade slicing through the pants as you forget how to breath. His figure deforms, a dark blue sea leaking out of the dead fish eyes and you see great leviathans lurking underneath the surface. Childe is the ocean, in a sense that he contains horrors beyond the human imagination. He is the great sleeping kraken that will swallow the world and you are his first victim.

His hand takes something out of the container and you expect it to burn and to hurt you, but instead there’s a muffled soothing feeling that comes, an unintentional “ah” coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t force himself and patches you up on the contrary.

You come back to yourself little by little, when he almost finishes with ministrations, leg and wrist looking like two casts. It feels bizarre to come back to your body halfway, to see Ajax kneeling in front of you, head hung low and it’s even weirder to hear his voice, hurt and utterly defeated: “So that’s what you think of me”.

He helps you come back to your room, as you still feel dazed. You pinch yourself a couple of times, still unable to believe that any of these happenings are real, they are.

A turning point, you conclude, there’s no way anything will stay the same after this.

You both dread and anticipate the changes.

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart (5)

warnings: blood, miscommunication, imprisonment, arguing

-

Logan met Virgil-- Anx’s eyes over Patton’s shoulder, and watched as his gaze went from bewildered to guarded in half a second.

In the next moment, Anx had shoved out sharply, pushing Patton away from him hard enough to make him stumble back a few steps-- just far enough to be outside the protective ward, Logan noted. 

As though to cover up the fact that he’d just stripped himself of a potential hostage, Anx stiffened up to his full height, fangs bared at them all.

“Careful!” Roman snapped in an eerie parody of Virgil’s normal catchphrase, rising to his feet as Patton narrowly avoided overbalancing.

“No, no,” Patton said, wiping at his eyes without any shame, “it’s my fault, I should have asked first. I always get kind of emotional after thralls break. My apawlegies, Anx.” He accented the words with a flap of his cat hoodie sleeve.

Logan had time to notice the way Anx’s face twisted-- a mix of confusion-amusement-wariness that was familiar from Virgil’s first weeks working with them-- before Roman cut in with a startled shout.

“The thrall is broken?!” he squawked, head whipping back and forth between Patton and Anx. “Since when?”

“None of your business,” snapped Anx.

“Pretty much as soon as I walked in!” cheered Patton, at the exact same time. He paused. “Whoops, sorry, Anx! Did you want that to be... confangdential?”

“Boo,” Roman called, instantly distracted by the bad wordplay, “That was a reach.”

Logan let his audible facepalm speak for itself. “Out of the way, please, Patton.”

Patton obligingly shuffled to the side, and with every step closer Logan took, Anx folded inwards like a snake rearing back to strike. Seeing Virgil’s body bracing for the worst at his approach made something in Logan’s chest pang oddly, but luckily he was well practiced at ignoring such things.

Once at the edge of the circle, he crouched and inspected the activation key. As expected, nothing was out of place. Logan doubted Anx had been awake long enough to even consider tampering with the circle, let alone attempt it.

Now that the ash had cooled, the spell would be vulnerable to outside influence. It wasn’t as big of a concern anymore, seeing as the thrall on Patton had been removed, but Logan wasn’t one to leave things half-done.

… Also, if left unattended, Patton would probably free the vampire without telling anyone even without being under thrall.

Logan set his palm on the activation key and nonverbally cast a warming spell, reactivating the part of the spell that singed any unauthorized fingers messing with his circle. He could add the warming charm into the circle’s layout later, when there wasn’t a twitchy vampire watching his every move.

Despite his efforts to make his spellcasting subtler than usual, Anx still seemed to go still and stiff like hunted prey when the change in the spell sent a mild warmth into the air around them. Those uncanny purple eyes flickered between all three of the hunters for a moment, and then seemed to settle for glaring at nothing.

“So, Draculame, what prompted the sudden change of heart?” Roman asked, arms crossed over his chest.

His tone wasn’t as accusatory as before, but Anx’s bristling only increased, likely at the nickname. It had taken a while for Virgil to realize Roman’s ruder habits weren’t mean-spirited. It seemed like Anx would have to relearn that.

Provided they got that far.

Shaking the rather grim thought away, Logan tilted his head at the vampire. “I’m admittedly curious as well.”

Anx hissed at them, which they probably should have expected. It probably said something about their friend that this had already been standard Virgil behavior before he’d been turned. It was almost nostalgic.

“Now, kiddos, let’s not vamptagonize him!” Patton cut in firmly, ignoring their groans. “It’s almost dawn, so how about we call it close enough to morning and have some breakfast? I’ll make pat-cakes!”

He swanned out of the room without waiting for an answer, nearly hip checking the doorframe as he went. For a moment, Logan half-expected to see Virgil fall in a half-step behind him, like a particularly emo shadow. The absence was jarring.

“He hasn’t slept tonight,” he finally said, capturing Roman’s attention. “Make sure he doesn’t use salt instead of sugar?”

“And meanwhile you will be…?” Roman prompted doubtfully. Logan rolled his eyes.

“Figuring out a way for Anx to safely move to the kitchen, as Patton no doubt wants him there,” he replied, raising a hand to forestall any protests. “I took precautions.”

Roman threw his hands up dramatically, shot Anx a warning glare, and then turned to leave.

“Ugh. There goes my appetite,” he grumbled as he stormed out the door.

Logan allowed himself a sigh and then turned to face Anx. The vampire was still staring at him oddly. “I will be placing a pair of enchanted cuffs on you. They have no chains and they will not hurt you, but if you move against any of us with malicious intent, they will freeze in place.”

“And what am I supposed to do if you move against me?” he challenged automatically, lip curling. “Stand there and take it?”

“The cuffs will not stop you from running or hiding,” Logan told him, “and you’ve proven yourself to be skilled at both of those things in the past 48 hours. None of us are planning on attacking you, but you will have options regardless.”

This wasn’t how he would have reassured Virgil, but this wasn’t the Virgil he knew, the one that trusted him. He couldn’t soothe Anx’s cognitive distortions, not when he was barely more than a stranger.

He retrieved the shiny black cuffs from a nearby cabinet. They hadn’t had a thrall aggressive enough to use them on in months. “If you’ll put your wrists forward, we can proceed. Otherwise, Patton will be bringing breakfast to you, and I’d prefer not to get syrup or blood all over this room.”

Anx eyed him warily for another few moments, but eventually Logan’s patience paid off, and he stuck his wrists out with a growl. Logan reached past the barrier without any trouble and clicked the first one into place. Before he could proceed with the second, Anx’s hand flipped around and grabbed onto Logan’s wrist tightly.

Logan’s head jerked up to meet Anx’s gaze, already shifting his weight to counter a pull, but the vampire didn’t move further, just stared at him intently. “I know what you are.”

He clearly expected some kind of dramatic reaction, but Logan wasn’t in the habit of those, particularly not for such vague accusations. “If you’ll specify?”

“You’re a witch,” Anx said. “I saw you tamper with the circle without any instruments. You have natural magic.”

Logan felt his stomach sink slightly. Logically, he knew that this wasn’t the Virgil he knew, but it still made something in him twist to think of any version of Virgil blackmailing him over his magical heritage. “And what of it?” he asked, as lightly as he could.

“You’re living in the same house as hunters. You’re doing magic right under their noses, you’re going to get yourself killed!” Anx scolded, sounding more like Virgil with every word. “Do you need help getting out?”

Logan wasn’t entirely sure what sort of face he made in response to this endearingly dense offer, but it was apparently enough to make Anx frown with uncertainty. He held a hand out for his other wrist and clicked the cuff on it without any problems, and then deactivated the circle with a simple gesture of his hand over the key.

Anx’s eyes flicked to the door, and Logan tried not to think about him darting out into the early morning sun. He turned and headed to the door.

“Follow me, and you’ll get your answer.”

While traversing the halls, Logan resisted the persistent urge to check behind him. Gone were the slight shuffled footsteps that had previously accompanied Virgil’s presence, replaced by Anx’s supernatural silence, as though he was gliding over the floor without even touching it.

He entered the kitchen, where Patton had evidently wrangled Roman into setting the table. Whether the four plates set out were out of habit or Roman reluctantly accepting Anx’s presence at the table, Logan wasn’t sure.

He cleared his throat, making both of them look up from attempting to draw funny faces with the pancake batter.

“Observe,” he instructed, and then drew a sigil in the air and lit a simple flame in his hand. Behind him, he could practically hear Anx go as stiff as a board.

“Are we showing off?” Roman asked, a bit excited but completely unsurprised. “Should I perform a monologue?”

“Great spell, Lo! No arson in the house, though,” Patton added in a bright chirp. “After all, I have enough ar-sons here already!”

Logan doused the flame by clenching a fist, giving Patton a Look that went blithely ignored. “You two are incorrigible. That was a simple demonstration.”

He turned to Anx, who looked a little shell shocked.

“As we’ve informed you, ‘hunter’ is a title that we use mostly for convenience and ease of access to jobs. We help magical beings just as often as average humans, if not more frequently.”

“We tried out ‘Protectors of the Innocent’ for a while, but it never really caught on for some reason,” Roman added, subtly sneaking a piece of bacon from the serving plate while Patton’s back was turned.

“Perhaps it would have worked better if someone hadn’t only put P.I. on all the business cards, resulting in us being mistaken for Private Investigators and all of our calls being about spousal infidelity for a solid two months,” Logan snarked back, moving past them to retrieve the orange juice from the fridge.

“The printing office charged by the letter!” Roman protested, and then recoiled from the countertop as his next attempt at sneaking ended with his fingers smacked mercilessly. “Augh! Forsaken by those dearest to me! What cruelty!”

“No sympathy for bacon thieves,” Patton chided, wielding his spatula like an instrument of mass destruction. “Go sit!”

Logan seated himself as well, and turned to Anx, who had been watching the banter play out from the doorway with a somewhat dazed expression. “You’re welcome to sit. Patton will likely insist on it, actually.”

“You people,” he enunciated slowly, “are crazy.”

“You get used to it,” Logan assured him with the certainty of someone who had heard this exact phrase from Virgil before. He checked his watch. “It has been some time since you last ate. I can retrieve some stored blood from our refrigerator.”

“Actually,” Patton set a plate stacked high with pancakes in the center of the table with a plonk, “I figured I could just be Anx’s donor for a while!”

Roman, who had just stolen a sip of Logan’s orange juice, did a movie-perfect spit take, and Patton slid the pancake stack swiftly out of range of the spray.

“It will be 55 days before you are viable for another blood donation,” Logan recited the fact automatically, but he was just as thrown off as Roman.

“Not if he drinks from me directly!” Patton retorted, a beacon of cheerful composure.

“What?” All three of them replied, at varying levels of screech.

Anx shot a wild-eyed look at the room at large and took a step back, as though physically distancing himself from the idea.

“Patton, you can’t be serious!” Roman pushed his chair back and stood, looking distraught. “Fangs For The Memories over here might look like Virgil, but he’s proven quite thoroughly that he’s not! We just got you un-thralled, clearly he can’t be trusted not to take advantage of you!”

Logan noticed Anx wince, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from the harsh assessment or Virgil’s name being spoken.

“Me not being thralled anymore is exactly why we can trust him not to hurt me,” Patton said, chin tilted up stubbornly. “He doesn’t know what he did wrong, but he fixed it anyway! That’s more than good enough in my book.”

“Well, maybe your book needs some copyediting!” Roman snapped back, exasperated. “So his unbeating heart isn’t as completely shriveled up as it originally seemed! So what? That doesn’t change the fact that he was the one who thralled you in the first place!”

Logan cut in, physically moving between them to break up the beginnings of a shouting match.

“I have to agree that this is a bad idea, for a multitude of reasons,” he started, raising a quelling hand before Patton could protest. “The matter of Anx’s trustworthiness aside, you shouldn’t be directly donating blood to any vampire. It is an unnecessary risk to your mental and emotional well being.”

“Thank you,” Roman said, apparently keen to seize allies where he could. He gestured expansively, looking at Patton with earnest eyes. “You’ve come so far, Pat. We don’t want to see any of your hard work undone. Virgil wouldn’t want that either; you know he’d fight this harder than any of us.”

Patton’s face had softened at their-- Roman’s sentimental worrying, but even bringing Virgil into it couldn’t sway his determined course.

“I know you guys just want me safe, but this is something I need to do. Even if it is a risk, I can’t be held down by this fear forever. And who better to help me than Anx!”

“Literally anyone who hasn’t threatened to kill everyone here in the last 48 hours,” Roman moaned, dragging his hands down his face.

“Besides,” Patton continued, undeterred, “this way we don’t have to worry about our emergency transfusion supply going low! It just makes sense.”

Logan had to begrudgingly agree. Between the hassle of trying to explain why they suddenly needed significantly more blood and the fact that a vampire drinking directly would replenish blood cells at a much higher rate than drawing blood, the best option really was to have a direct donor. He simply didn't want it to be Patton.

Unfortunately, his odds of actually being able to stop Patton were quite low.

“Nothing about any of this makes sense,” Anx grumbled, having retreated to the hall like a skittish feral cat.

The vampire seemed almost more unsettled by the idea than either of the other objecting parties, despite being the only one who directly benefited from the hypothetical arrangement. Nervous about their responses if he agreed, perhaps?

“We can at least give it a shot!” Patton insisted, coming a little closer to Anx and reaching out to gently pat his shoulder. It spoke volumes that the touch wasn't brushed off or rejected. “It could end up helping us both! And if it doesn’t, we’ll just find another way! You won’t be in trouble for messing up, okay?”

Anx blinked, slowly, still looking somewhat unconvinced that this was reality. Still, after a few moments of exposure to Patton’s encouraging smile, he dipped his head in a nod.

“Okay.”

[kazuhasbunny]

Giiiirl, imagine you are on Baal's side, you are a general and commanding an army against the rebels' own general, Gorou.

You are all cocky and confident, your years of experience just keeping you aware enough so you won't be consumed by your pride. But oh, your face, when after all of those carefully thought out strategies and intensive training, you end up losing to that mutt.

He is insufferable. Even though his face and body is caked in a mixture only war can give-- blood, sweat and dirt, his smile is the biggest, smuggest thing you have ever seen in your life as a warrior. It does not help that you are on your knees, back stretching forward as the grip he has on your jaw tugs you up with such a force you won't ever believe an archer, a long distance fighter, would posses. The bodies of both sides lay scattered on the defiled land, but the purple spots decorate the most, as his last men stand straight and proud behind him, just as yours do, but the lack the attentiveness. Their tired and bored countenance ticks you in a wrong way. Why they don't look happy by this result?

Does your failure was already predicted? As if this end was something that was already calculated. Taken in account.

The man holding your jaw in a bruising grip let go of you, a mere blink of respite as the next second your left cheek explodes in pain, your vision swaggers for a second as you fall on your right side from the streght of that blow. You shut your eyes and concentrate on your breathing; the fight left you completely drained, as much as your brain screamed at you to stand up and attack that man, your bones and muscles protested as you tensed in hopes of getting up, but ultimately you only made yourself look pitiful.

Gorou turns to were his men are, his gaze lingering for a second on your laughable attempt. His focus switches to the army as he starts to pace from one side to the other, the victory was already decided, but the energy from the feat itself brought a surge of emotions within him.

Another quick glance at you, and something on his mind switched. He was wondering what to do with you; killing you off felt as a meaningless action, as the Shogun won't care for someone as low as yourself. You only were deployed to fight against them to gain time for the real force, to prepare and learn how strong the rebels actually are. With how confident you looked hours ago, it seems that your benevolent Shogun forgot to grace you with such knowledge before sending you off with a bunch of newly trainees.

"First of all, congratulations, my friends, for this well earned victory" Gorou began. The group of men on front of him quickly acknowledge his words, paying attention to what he had to say.

"Even if the outcome resulted as to what we--" He turns around, your eyes opened when he began speaking. You both made eye contact, and Gorou's smirk transformed into a full smile. Was it okay for him to fill such giddiness at the sight of your equally wounded pride and body? After all, he was the one to bring you into that state, he was the one to put you in your rightful place with just one arrow, kneeling on the dirty battlefield as the geo power incased on the arrowhead did its job in petrify you.

The glint of defeat on, dare he say, those gorgeous eyes of yours really made them stand out. Actually, as he approaches your form, he's starting to see some other appealing features he couldn't notice from a longer distance. What was the Shogun thinking, in even allowing you a spot within her number when you clearly weren't made for war?

"--Expected" his pause brought your attention to what he was actually saying. So they had all of this calculated...

"But now, all that is left to do, is tend to the wounded and take care of the dead. Yours and their sacrifice will bring an end to this stupid decree in no time. We need to prepare for tougher, real..." He gives you a glance "...battles from now on. Don't let this win get in your head"

The crowd quietly cheers between them, some of them patting each other on the shoulder for a job well done. All of that camaraderie made your stomach hollow, as you recognise the same speech you have told to your former men after a battle well fought. Those piercing blue eyes of his made you painfully aware of the consecutive part of giving a victory speech, about what is waiting for the losing side, the pit in your stomach grew in size and you really wished that it could swallow you whole before the man in front of you does.

Gorou thrills in your despair. That pretty face of yours plunging into dark dephts, your mind weaving one horrifying destiny after other speaks a lot of your character, as only those who have layed a cruel end to those before them can conceive. He knows what kind of thoughts those are, but as much of a monster as you are viewing him now, he won't do such a thing. He was quite merciful while deciding what your fate will be, even if he didn't pondered a lot in the few minutes after your fall, you are but only a child with a weapon, sent to die by that horrible woman.

And something he prides himself of, is learning from mistakes. He won't throw away something that can fulfill very well other duties than warfare ones.

"Sir! If I may--" a voice spoke between the masses of helms and spears.

"I know, I know. The general" Gorou waves off his hand, his eyes never stranding away from your form for far too long.

A groan escapes your body as his foot steps on your ribcage, not too hard but your weak body sense as if he had nails attached to the sole, your skin felt cold and as if it was being prickled by a ton of needles. He pushes your your body with a gentleness unexpected from an enemy, until you were lying on your back. The new position put pressure in the arrow wound on your right/left shoulder, your dominant arm, and for a second you were grateful of the rigidness granted by the geo element yet covering half of your arm or else you are sure you would have cried in pain, the last thing you want now is to show more weakness that what you are displaying.

"What I am going to do with her... I didn't know myself when we first begun this battle" Gorou continued. He removed his shoe from your chest to your side on the floor, so you'll be cage between his legs while he looks down on you. His arms crossed across his chest and he tilted his head to the side, as in assessing you, taking on your face just as covered in grime as his but not diminish your beauty in the slightest. He really made a good decision in regard of your fate.

The soldiers stood still, the atmosphere felt heavy like the air on a hot summer afternoon that feels stuffy on your lungs as your breath in. Their general had an unseen aura surrounding him, his usual careless actitud makes everyone forget that there's an animal side to him, although they aren't sure they will presence it for the first time, their captain is definitely switching towards that side... they even feel a little bit of pity for the woman under him.

"But as I see her like this, beaten, it makes me remember something of old, that the victorous usually sow. Can you guys guess what it is?" He squats over you, sweetly combing a couple of strands of hair out of your face.

Whispers break among the army after the question. One of them raised his hand, no barely 18 years old as he was one of the shortest in comparison to his bigger and wider shouldered comrades. The young recruit promptly lowered his arm as the general wasn't looking at their direction but that didn't stopped him from answering, eyes shining with excitement:

"They take something as a token of their victory, sir!"

Gorou hummed in affirmation. "Yes, they did. A spoil of war, if you may"

Dread washed over you. He wasn't going to kill you, as a way to demonstrate their superiority? To be taken as a trophy, a possession... He surely won't mean that, right? They are going to torture you and extract every drop of information that you have, until the last thing left in you is blood to shed on their hands as your usefulness is cut short like your troath.

You needed to say something. Anything, as long as it would arise anger within the young male, anything as long as you aren't degrade far from what you have been.

Gorou raised his eyebrows as you coughed. He wasn't expecting a monologue from you but neither silence. Your sudden wish of speaking made the men jump into action, their spears pointing at you with such terrifying speed made you realise furthermore that this battle was destined to end like this, another stripe to the tiger just like a new blow to your pride.

"Just kill me already. I won't say anything, and if given the opportunity, I will end it myself" you spat. You tried to transmit all of your pain, hate and shame in one stare, you won't go happy until you make that man see what you feel, how big your abhorrence is to his being.

All the males stare in silence, until the general himself chuckled. Your cheeks burn with rage, your teeth clenched together as you tried yo surf this flare of emotions. How dare he laugh like that! He already won and you won't speak a thing about the Shogun, why acting like that? Isn't the rebels supposed to act with nobility and fairness?

Gorou took a breath in. He's happy he didn't went for the traditional route and killed you.

"Aw, now you just proved me correct, sweetheart. I'll enjoy making you into a proper wife"

All of that just to say "Imagine being taken as Gorou's prize and he makes you his whore wife" LMAO

(Also? In the part that reader coughs? I wanted to put that Gorou spits on your lips because you looked thirsty AODJFJDC)

THIS 🙏 yes i’d love to be gorou’s housewife he should really take me in and train me to obey him . please i’d do anything for him

AND pleasee omg ... if u actually put that in i’d die on my chair it’s too hot i can’t hjnhnggrh

[inkdemonapologist]

wait wait so to add on to the person earlier who asked about the sammy/susie & tom/allison comparison thing:

isn’t it....... suspiciously odd that Allison was the one to kill Susie, and Tom was the one to kill Sammy? It’s like Allison and Tom are their ‘perfect’ counterparts, it feels almost too right.

On another note, I genuinely believe Tom is good. I don’t trust Allison in the slightest though, not since we found out she started working for Nathan Arch after she left JDS, and it looks like he could very well be our new villain for BATDR. Plus everything you brought up about her being the only one to leave no tapes and supposedly have no memory....... it just gives me a bad feeling about her. mm Dont Like It

OHHHHHHH????? OH THAT’S FUN…��.. gosh dangit now I gotta aDD THAT TO THE PILE OF “WOW IT SURE IS WEIRD HOW WE KEEP DROPPING HINTS ABOUT SAMMY BEING A FAILED BORIS WHEN THAT IS APPARENTLY NOT ACTUALLY WHAT WE’RE GONNA SAY HAPPENED TO HIM”

LIKE,

idk, I have a genuinely great time losing my mind over why Sammy is such a unique monster and I love the ink-drinking thing, obviously, but also like… if Sammy WERE a failed Boris, it would be an easy way to explain the weird sheep obsession, it’d explain why he’s the ONLY non-Boris to have 4 fingers (lost ones and searchers and angels have 5!), and then there's these meta/narrative comparisons where Sammy and Boris have the same cower pose and there’s sheep songs posters specifically in a lot of sammy-branded areas, implying a tie between Boris and Music, and now this neat parallel, where it would mean the Alice and Boris who seem to have kept their minds intact kill the ones who didn’t…

AND LIKE……. Even in DCTL, there’d be room for this, because we don’t see Sammy transform: he’s human until the very very end, even when he’s downed a terrifying amount of ink, it doesn't seem to be changing him -- he’s still fully human and just acting strange. And then he disappears and shows up completely physically changed, sounding delighted with his new enlightenment and absolutely Done with Joey.

So if you had Joey take advantage of Sammy’s altered state or need for ink or whatever to lure him into the Machine as attempt number 2: Boris This Time after Susie came out in some kind of Wriggling Slug Form, then that’d be (a) why he looks like he’s sorta half-way to toon all of a sudden at the end, (b) why Sammy doesn’t blame his body on Bendy and can be excited about the transformation of his MIND but angry/ashamed about his body (he’s already wearing the mask, he’s clearly not thrilled abt his face), (c) why Joey’s excited to get a perfect Boris out of Buddy, as if he’d had attempts/failures before (and had a plan ready for what to do with his new Boris even though Buddy was SURELY a last-minute job), but doesn’t seem to fully expect what the situation will be vis a vis talking and Buddy’s mind still being in there, as if Buddy’s the first one to make it to Full Boris

IT JUST SEEMS LIKE IT COULD FIT???? And you could make the argument that this does not CONTRADICT canon……….. but it just seems like, if that’s what happened, Sammy would’ve mentioned it in his monologue SOMEWHERE, especially given how quick he is to complain to Henry about his messed up body, it jUST SEEMS LIKE,,,, some sentiment of “Joey may have ruined my body but my lord will set me free” would come up in there at SOME POINT, SO LIKE…… THIS IS PROBABLY NOT THE INTENDED EXPLANATION,

Oops i got distracted with sammy again,

Anyway a lot of my allison thoughts are Over Here, but in general I think they can be summed up with, I’m very fond of “genuinely well-meaning person who has ulterior motives,” and enjoy the idea of someone who is not being malicious, necessarily, but does not trust Henry and is hiding a lot of information from him, who is more ruthless and calculating than she lets on, despite having good goals. I don’t… actually expect BATDR to go this route, though, so I’m REAL curious if they’ll just play her straight as the Good Alice, or lean into all the places she doesn't quite add up and make more untrustworthy...!

[old-hyper-super-clover]

Christmas Market Event,

Day 2

Group one: Beel, Clover, Diavolo and Solomon

This little story belongs to my Christmas project, a series of stories leading up to Christmas Eve! Check my Event Masterlist for more information, and have fun!

My MCs Violet and Clover are featured in these stories, too, so check out their profiles if you want to know more about them!

As Diavolo opened the portal to the human world, he excitedly asked everyone to go through.

However, while most made their ways to find themselves in Austria a second later, Clover felt a certain unease inside her.

She was one of the last ones to step into the human world...

And just before Diavolo called her out to go, she turned around and searched for a certain pair of eyes.

"Solomon" she whispered. The sorcerer looked at her in surprise. "Solomon I... Have a favour to ask of you."

The group plopped into the human world in a dark side alley, so that no human being would wonder about that wavering, weird portal that just happened to puke out fourteen living beings right onto the street.

When everyone was there, Mama Lucifer called all of them together to establish a few more rules.

They agreed on a time where they would all meet right here again, and Lucifer talked another fifteen minutes about how he would torture his brothers if they caused any kind of ruckus whatsoever.

"Mylord" Barbatos called out after Lucifer finished his monologue. "Mylord, where would you like to go first? I will escort you there."

Diavolo kept quiet for a moment, then his eyes landed on a certain girl.

"I want to go with Clover!" he suddenly called out, leading the girl to let out a confused noise. "And she's human, so I will be fine with her around. No need for you to do that, Barbatos."

Barbatos eyes widened in surprise.

"B-but... Mylord" he almost whined.

As Beel was huddled together with Clover, Diavolo now looked at him as well. "Beelzebub, would you join us as well?"

"Sure."

"Mylord, I-" Barbatos stammered. "I don't have any doubt in Clover's capacity to guide you around, b-but"

A hand placed on Barbatos' shoulder.

"Relax, Barb!" Asmo chimed in. "You need a break from your master too, you know? Come, how about we have some fun together for a change~!"

And Asmo pulled the confused butler away.

Diavolo seemed a little irritated over his butler's behaviour, but Solomon was quick to ease that as well.

"He will be fine" the sorcerer hummed. "Now, if you allow, I would like to join the three of you."

"Sure" Clover smiled.

Solomon gave a pleased nod.

"Shall we get going, then?"

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

The four wanted to get an overview of the market, since none of them have been there before.

However, that proved quite difficult, as Diavolo was so interested in every single stand that the group progressed fairly slow.

The shopkeepers seemed very, very happy over such a polite and nice costumer, so every other second, they engaged in a rather long and passionate conversation about what they were selling.

The others were standing a little at the side, watching the scene.

"... They've been talking about knitted gloves for ten minutes now" Solomon sighed. "If we keep going like this, we won't even see half of the market until it's time to go again..."

Laughing and awkward laugh, Clover scratched her head. "Well, but it seems like Diavolo is having fun, so..."

Behind her, she heard an excited sniff.

"Something smells delicious" Beel pointed out, looking for the source of that sweet scent. "I think there's a food stall over there..."

He gave his girlfriend puppy eyes.

Smiling, Clover gave a sigh. "I know you wanna go, but Diavolo is still talking over here..."

"You two can go ahead" Solomon then said. "I'll watch so that the prince won't get too excited. We will catch up to you two later."

Surprised, but gladly taking the offer, the couple continued their tour.

They came across a stall that was selling churros.

"That's where to good smell is coming from" Beel's eyes sparkled in excitement. "Can we try them?"

"Sure", the human girl smiled and they went up to the shopkeeper. Beel started ordering...

"Hello! We'd like one bag of churros."

Clover eyed him.

One bag. Beel. Ordering. One. Only one. Bag.

They stepped aside, searching for a bench to sit down and try them.

Both humming overly pleased, Clover was happy to see that churros were still as amazing as she remembered them.

"That was delicious" Beel smiled.

"Yeah! Do you want some more?" she dared to ask.

Thinking for a moment, Beel then shook his head.

"I'm good for now. I want to leave room to try other things too, you know?"

And the girl's eyes widened, watching as Beel stood up, completely fine with having only half a portion of churros.

He didn't seem hungry at all.

She looked at him.

And smiled.

Good, looks like her plan was working out...

---------

They kept wandering around, having a good time while holding hands und chatting with each other.

Beel was looking for something little to gift his twin brother Belphie for Christmas, and also had been eyeing everything in case it would make for a good present for Clover, too.

He decided on a hand knitted scarf for Belphie, as both him and the human girl were in awe over how fluffy it was.

Every now and then, they came by a food stall.

At first, Beel had been asking to try the foods, since most of the dishes were new to him.

At some point, however, it seemed like Clover was the first one to initiate the food-buying.

"We had crêpes just ten minutes ago?" Beel pointed out in confusion as Clover begged him to go buy her some.

"Buuut..." the girl whined. "I'm kinda craving some, you know?"

So of course, Beel went and bought her one.

"O-only one?" Clover bursted out greedily before she could hold herself back. "I-I mean... Don't you want one, too?"

And as Beel thought about her words, he realised.

"No..." he mumbled. "I'm... not hungry. That's odd..."

The girl bit her lip. "But... That's great, isn't it?" she cheered, giving an odd smile. "You can concentrate on the Christmas market way better this way, don't you you think?"

Beel gave a slow nod, but remained bothered.

"Sure..."

-----------

The two continued.

At some point, they happened to pass Mammon and Levi. They also tried talking to them, but the two seemed in an utter panic. Although Clover's conscience said to go and look after that matter, they let them be and continued.

Because slowly, the girl felt out of energy, asking to sit down for a moment.

And as they were searching for a quiet place to sit down, she felt worse with every passing second.

Her legs were weak. She couldn't focus on anything.

And her stomach was aching like crazy.

Beelzebub was helping her walk when he noticed her state, overly worried but the girl kept shaking it off.

"Maybe my body isn't used to the human world anymore!" she joked.

However, as they reached a bench, Clover collapsed right onto it.

"Clover!" Beel called out, having caught her just in time to prevent her from hitting her head harshly. "What is wrong...?!"

But she seemed to have lost consciousness.

Holding her in his arms, Beel wasn't sure what to do.

"Clover...? Please, wake up..."

He was about to pick her up und go search for someone to help him, but then she opened her eyes again.

"Hngh... Beel...? What... Just happened..."

"You passed out" Beel whined. "Clover, please, what is going on...?!"

"Ah, don't... Don't worry... I'm just tired..."

But this time, Beel wasn't buying it.

"No" he said. "I now what's going on with you. Don't try to lie about it. I know this feeling way too well myself..."

He gently stroke over her cold cheek.

"You're starving" he mumbled.

The girl lowered her gaze in guilt.

"But why...?" The demon continued. "And why... Am I not? Clover, can you explain what's happening...?"

Fiddling with her hands, she had trouble speaking up. But it was no use anyways...

"I... Asked Solomon to put a spell on us" she admitted. "I feared that, if you keep being hungry, you won't enjoy the Christmas market at all. Also, I know you hate it when you loose control over yourself, and as I feared that around so much food, you might do so... I asked Solomon to switch our stomaches for the day..."

The avatar of Gluttony stared at her, irritated.

Then, he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Don't..." He whispered next to her ear. "Don't do that ever again... I couldn't bear loosing you... I don't want you to starve..."

The girl teared up.

"B-beel... I wouldn't have..."

"You nearly did!" He shouted, but his harsh tone was followed by a whine. "I'm used to this pain... But your body is not."

He wrapped an arm underneath her, picking her up from the park bench. "We'll go search for Solomon. He'll take care of it."

"But Beel...!" Clover pouted. "I want you to have fun...! I can-"

"No." Beel locked eyes with her.

"Clover. What I need to have fun is you at my side. So, will you stay with me for the rest of the day, or do you want to pass out and risk dying so you'll never ever be at my side again?"

She went silent, narrowed her gaze.

"... I'm sorry..." the girl mumbled. "I... wanted to help..."

"I know. And I thank you for wanting to make me happy. I appreciate that a lot..." He placed a kiss on her forehead. "But I wouldn't want to loose you for anything. And now, let's grab something to eat for you and then we'll find Solomon, okay?"

"Okay... Thank you."

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

Carrying his now dozing lady piggyback style, Beel wandered around the market, eventually hearing the excited loud voice of his prince.

Turning to search for Diavolo, Beel spotted him as well as a Solomon behind him, packed with countless shopping bags.

It also seemed like the prince was about to buy yet another handmade little thing from some shopkeeper that he just found so friendly that he had to buy their stuff.

Solomon had somehow got himself into playing his butler for the day, carrying everything that had already been bought.

Smiling, Beel headed towards them.

"Solomon!"

The sorcerer turned his head, and, seeing the girl, his expression showed that he feared Clover was eventually going to end up like this.

"I told her about the dangers" Solomon said. Having returned into a darker alley, he was preparing a spell to return her to normal. "But she wasn't going to change her mind. That's some dedication, isn't it?"

As he finished, the girl opened her eyes again.

"Truly" she heard Beel mumble, who was now giving her the warmest look.

"And I love her very dearly for that."

[space-girl-and-droids-art]

Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark- Book Review

“Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark” Is an anthology of stories narrating some of the arcs of the clone wars from the perspective of the characters. It gives more details and depth to some episodes, as well as giving us information that makes us have a different view of the events.

This is not exactly a review, but mostly my reactions to reading the book. I do recommend it, if you loved the clone wars and want another perspective on some of the arcs this will be a good read. That said, this does contain spoilers for the clone wars.

#1 “Sharing the same Face” -Jason Fry (from the episode “Ambush”)

Okay this was once one of the most light-hearted episodes of the series and now I ended up crying. I did not expect an order 66 reference here. Every time Yoda addresses Dooku is painful. Seeing how Yoda perceives the clones is really heart-warming, but knowing how it all turns out in the end is really sad and during the whole text you are really aware of that. In the show you kind of forget about what’s going to happen for a while, but this text just keeps you thinking about it constantly. It was a good read, I loved it. I found it really interesting knowing Yoda approaches the clones the same way he approached his students at the temple, and knowing what his opinions on the clone army it was a good detail. Loved this one.

Did I care that much about this episode before? No. But watching it right after reading this made me cry for half an hour. (I am a really emotional person, so take this with a grain of salt.)

#2 “Dooku Captured”- Lou Anders (From the episodes “Dooku Captured” and “Gungan General”.

This was a funny read, and the fact that the events are narrated by Dooku Himself made it even more hilarious. It’s supposedly a holorecording Dooku was doing for Sidious, and you can tell by his words that he was so done. Poor Dooku deserves a meditation day after it. You can tell how annoyed he was by the whole situation and his perception of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. They really are bothering for the count. I’m surprised he didn’t retire after this event, man’s gotta be really tired. Also, when they were tied together, they just shared a braincell and most of the time, Dooku was the one carrying it. The love he had for Qui-Gon does not extend to rest of the lineage, clearly.

At first it was really slow, but after they get captured by the pirates it just gets funnier. Good story to read after the sadness the previous text gave me.

Also, the fact that Dooku canonically records himself venting to Sidious is hilarious to me. Like, can you imagine being Palpatine and receiving daily vlogs from your apprentice ranting and complaining about Anakin and Obi-Wan? Dude was tired, of course he would let Anakin decapitate him in the end.

#3 “Hostage Crisis”- Preeti Chhibber (from the episode “Hostage Crisis”)

For an Anidala shipper this is a must read, because you will know exactly what Anakin thinks of his wife and how he views Padmé. This text was more Anakin centric (I believe the next one is Padmé centric) and it was a delight. I haven’t read much in canon about stuff that involves Anakin’s feelings so this was really good.

The scene from the beginning of the episode? Is hotter when you read it, trust me. For a clearly SFW text, this was intense. I’m pretty sure I can guess all of Anakin’s kink only by what was implied in his thoughts. Is also really sweet to see how much she cares, but also know why everything went downhill at the end. Good retelling.

#4 “Pursuit of Peace”- Anne Ursu (from the episodes “Heroes on both sides” and “Pursuit of Peace”)

I really love Padmé Amidala. My favorite senator. If you have seen my review of Queen’s Peril you KNOW How much I love her, and even when this text was written by another author, I still got the same feeling about her. Padmé is amazing. This arc is one of my favorite of the Clone wars because it’s the arc that let you see that it wasn’t a black and white kind of situation, both sides were being played. An none of them were really worrying about their people, they were in it for the money. I love reading Padmé’s thoughts on the whole situation. Also, the way this story is written makes what went down with Padmé and Anakin in the third episode make more sense and more in character. She is a strong, good, and smart politician. But she is also motivated to see the light in the dark and preserve the light, it gave me major Qui-Gon from “Master and Apprentice” vibes. It did make me tear up a little, because when I finished it, I realized everything she did was for nothing. She was too kind in a galaxy already so corrupted.

Also, Palpatine stop calling her “my child” you disgusting sith lord, I know you are responsible for her death and so do you, so shut the f up. Padmé was doing everything right and she hasn’t done anything wrong in her life whatsoever.

“Just because there’s darkness in something does not mean you do not love it. You show it love, you show it light, and you hope it chooses the light”.

She was talking about the senate but you just KNOW she isn’t really talking about the senate.

This story re-telling broke me, just as the first one. I am not ready for the next one. Do I have to? Man, I really don’t want to go through Umbara again.

#5 “The Shadow of Umbara” -Yoon Ha Lee (from the episodes "Darkness on Umbara," "The General," "Plan of Dissent," and "Carnage of Krell”)

I was, indeed, not ready for it. It doesn’t really add much to the story… except pain. Rex’s pain, to be precise. Let my man mourn Hardcase :C I just wanted to give him a hug, him and all of the clones to be honest. Fives was as good as always, but re-reading his lines knowing what happens to him made me sad. I hate Pong Krell, get you dirty hands off my babies. I don’t think this re- telling made me sadder, but that’s only because it was just as painful as the episodes.

Dogma my beloved, you deserve everything.

I love how this arc develops Rex character and his attitude towards the war in general.

#6 “Bane’s Story”- Tom Angleberger (from the episodes “Deception”, “Friends and Enemies”, “The Box” and “Crisis on Naboo”.)

Is Cad Bane the Regina George of the Bounty Hunters?

The answer is yes. Yes, he is.

I wasn’t really excited to read about Cad Bane at first, I felt that everything that had to be said about the guy had already been stated in the show. He was just a mean bounty hunter in space. But this was actually pretty funny to read, specially because it’s narrated in first person from Bane’s perspective on what happened with Kenobi. And it’s hilarious.

He is basically re telling the events to Boba and Bossk while he is in jail again. During his story you can learn a few things about him as well, specially what his thoughts are in relation to some important topics. You would think he is only concerned about the money and blasting people, and you would be right. But he also does have an opinion on what’s happening on the galaxy at large, on the jedi, on Palpatine and Dooku. But those opinions don’t affect how he gets the job done. It was really interesting seeing him internally judging Kenobi for being a liar, and knowing something is wrong with the jedi order if they pulled that off. He knows everyone is being deceived, but doesn’t know how. That’s why he doesn’t care, and doesn’t get involved on anything unless you offer to pay him. Money moves him, but not the people who has it.

It was a good story, and I also liked to see how Bane respects Boba and sees him as the one that’s going to take his place eventually.

We know from the deleted episodes that Cad Bane was supposed to be killed by Boba Fett, but we haven’t seen that in canon yet. I really hope they answer what happened to Cad Bane in the current canon, I would love to see that in a comic, or in a book.

#7 “The lost nightsister”- Zoraida Cordova (from the episode “Bounty”)

I love Asajj Ventress for a million reasons and this story just made me love her even more. It’s the same story from the episodes but with an insight of what Ventress is thinking about. Which is unsurprisingly very depressing but the story itself turns out to be pretty uplifting.

It’s about her thoughts on what happened after the massacre of her sisters, her family, and how she deals with everything she had already lost. How lonely and worthless she feels. But during the course of the story, we see her reconnecting with who she is, and learning her value. Learning she is a powerful person, master or not.

It was also really sad to see how she compared herself to others. She was really sad and angry that nobody cared about what happened to her people, no one that cared about her. She saw how people wanted the girl in the box back and thought about how nobody would ever do the same for her and it was sad.

I also find very depressing that she couldn’t mourn her family.

But then she said this:

“What made her so special? What made her worth—No. She couldn’t think that way. This girl’s worth didn’t diminish her own. “

And like, I’m 100% rooting for her here.

Also, I love that once she realized the girl from the box was being smuggled to be essentially a child bride, she didn’t hesitate to scam the old creep. She may be an assassin, but during the course of this story you learn that she is disgusted by men who take advantage of female beings. I also love her internal monologue after the guy was bothering her in the cantina and how she just knows that if she can defend herself, she will do it with no hesitation.

Lovely story, I love knowing more about Ventress. Beautifully written.

#8"Dark Vengeance”-Rebecca Roanhorse (from the episodes "Brothers" and "Revenge")

It’s so on brand for Darth Maul to have his entire story be about Kenobi. It’s narrated by him, but directed towards you, like he is telling the reader a story. That in some stories could be like an awkward thing, but here it was well done. I love Maul and like, I could picture us having that conversation, well, me listening to him monologuing.

I really liked that he started telling the story from the events that happened on Naboo. You get to really see what happened from his perspective and understand why his hatred of Kenobi only grows over time.

Also, Darth Maul was like “I can excuse murder, but I draw the line at being rude”. Which is so morally wrong, but very fitting to his character. He is really upset at Kenobi for not caring about what happened to him. From what I gathered of the info that he let us know, he would probably like it more if Kenobi killed him instead of having to spend all those years in the garbage. Nobody cared for him enough to go and check up on what happened to him. That doesn’t excuse murder though.

The interactions he had with Kenobi let us know that it was not very jedi like the way he treated Maul, ignoring his rage and letting it consume him. Obi-wan just kept adding fuel to the fire because he was also really angry at Maul for the murder of Qui-Gon, not realizing that that would only make Maul be even angrier. And we know how that ended up for Satine Kenobi.

Final thoughts: Savage, I love you.

#9 "Almost a Jedi"-Sarah Beth Durst (from the episode "A Necessary Bond")

I thought this story was going to be from Ahsoka’s point of view. It was not.

I’m not mad at it though.

The story itself does focus on Ahsoka but it’s narrated by Katooni. It’s basically about how much she adores Ahsoka and wants to be like her, but also doubts herself a lot. She thinks she is not good enough to be a jedi. But her experiences both with Ahsoka and with Hondo Ohnaka makes her change her mind.

I want to say that I love the fact that it’s canon that she drew a poster of Ahsoka for her room because she really admired her that much it's so wholesome. It’s cute, and also let us see the perception the younglings had of Ahsoka.

Also, the bond between Hondo and Katooni is really wholesome. This also made me realize that this encounter with a young jedi is the reason he is immediately friendly with Ezra in Rebels. Ezra and Katooni do share similar personality traits sometimes.

Deep diving in Wookiepedia after reading this I found out that Hondo’s ship in Galaxy’s Edge is called “The Katooni” and now I’m sad thinking he was probably devastated when he learnt about Order 66 and what Vader did to the younglings. Great now I’m angsty about a chaotic evil space pirate.

I think it was confirmed by Dave Filoni that those kids are dead now. May the force be with them, they were good enough jedis.

#10 "Kenobi's Shadow"-Greg van Eekhout (from the episode "The Lawless”)

This is the re-telling of one of the saddest clone wars episodes. The episode just lets you think that everything’s going to be alright, that they are going to survive together, lets you hope that they take off just in time… and then it doesn’t happen. I’m still not over Satine’s death. And this made it even sadder. There were so many points their story could’ve gone differently, but their story was already at an end.

This is in third person but heavily focusing on Kenobi’s thoughts along the way. He really was close to turn to the dark side, but his love for Satine and his grief made him not surrender to it. But he felt an anger, a justified one, but an anger that I have never seen in a jedi other than Anakin Skywalker. And we all know what happens to him.

It was a good but sad reading. I won’t be reading this one again. It’s too much. I knew what was going to happen and it still hit me hard. I wish things would’ve gone differently for the both of them. I wonder if we will get flashbacks to this in the Kenobi show.

Also, I really need an Obi-Wan Kenobi and Satine book of their time on the run.

#11 "Bug"-E. Anne Convery (inspired by the episode "Massacre”)

I can’t talk openly about this story because it’s not actually featured on the clone wars. It’s a really good story, specially if you want to expand on the lore regarding Dathomir and the Nightsister in the new canon. It’s perfectly executed, and even when the story isn’t about any of the main characters it hooked me from start to finish. Definitely one of my favorite stories of the book and If I had to pick one story from this anthology to read again it would be this one.

It has more gruesome details than the others and the atmosphere is dark, and I loved it. I would read a whole Dathomirian Nightsister novel written by this author if it was in this exact same style. I really liked it a lot.

In summary, I really enjoyed reading this Anthology. I would really recommend it to anyone who is fond of the Clone Wars or the prequels era. Adults, Kids, Teens, Young adults. I think I would’ve enjoyed this book as a kid as well, and I enjoyed it a lot now in my early twenties. It contains a little bit of everything and that makes it a really complete anthology.