#to commemorate the passing of right stuf

[dagmartoons]

[littlecarnet]

Like the Dawn - Chapter 7

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When the got to the fairgrounds, everything was in full swing.

Booths offering all sorts of foods from magicarp shaped pastries stuffed with all sorts of fillings, sizzling grilled vegetable pancakes, sticky sweet dumplings, and tossed fried noodles in a variety of sauces and spices, as well as lots of savory and sweet treats for pokemon. The smells were exotic to Giratina, nothing like the foods he knew long ago, but they did look appealing, the humans and pokemon eating them seemed to really enjoy them.

As promised, Cynthia got him Pinapberry ice cream while her's was a strawberry milk flavor with a drizzle of chocolate on top. They enjoyed these sweet treats as they watched the parade exhibiting giant paper mache lanterns depicting scenes from various myths. Cynthia was quick to point out one depicting him.

At first Giratina was expecting the typical depiction. One of being a violent creature and then being banished by his parent. But was surprised to see him looking ferociously at a human figure that resembled Cyrus. The banner above the cart read ' Distortion's Ruler Stops Apocalypse'. He watched it pass by absolutely stunned. Cynthia who smiled at his reaction.

" You were involved with that, weren't you?" He asked.

She shook her head. " Not entirely. The class I taught in Sinnoh History were inspired by my account of what happened on Spear Pillar and what you did to stop Cyrus, so they built the lantern to commemorate the event."

He was touched. So that action hadn't been forgotten. It was being displayed for everyone here tonight as well as a brand new generation, who will now know him not as a monster but a hero. His hand wrapped around her's. Could he love her even more?

" Thank you."

The evening that followed was a wonderful set of events. Giratina watched Cynthia roll up her sleeves to fish for toys floating in a water basin and then throwing darts, proving to spectators that she was more than just amazing in battle but formidable in games of skill too. She came back to him with a haul of items such as a cute Goldeen plush, a few fans depicting Ho-Oh and Lugia, and two water yoyos decorated like an Ultra ball and Dusk ball. She gave the later to Giratina, and with a bit of guidance, he learned how to use it.

Not wanting to leave him out of the fun she showed him a simple game of strength, he was hesitant at first, not sure if he kept his abilities, but was surprised to ring that bell. He picked out a Haunter mask out of the prizes. She teased him. Of course he'd pick a ghost type.

Cynthia hadn't had this much fun in a long time, and she had to admit this felt like a date. Well, they were a couple now, right? This could be their first date. She was sure others were watching them. There would definitely be rumors tomorrow. Not because the town had any press or media, but that small towns often talked. That was fine. Better some little old lady teasing her about the strange young man linked arm in arm with her, than international gossip on Giratina's identity and trying to harass him. She was no stranger to that. She even had to deal with rumors that she was dating Steven Stone. Despite the fact he was gay and already had a lover. But tabloids never got the facts right. Steven thought it was hilarious. Cynthia was less than amused.

She was however a bit concerned about how long this would last. Today would be Giratina's second day as a human, tomorrow, his last. They wouldn't be able to do all the things she wanted to in public with him. To modern society it would be met with a lot of criticism, scandal... the Sinnoh Champion in love with a creature like him? Were humans not good enough for her? Oh she could imagine the news.

In this town, it wouldn't be any better. The fact he was a pokemon deity would likely have the elders disapprove of their relationship. The Celestica believed pokemon like him were above humans, to want an intimate relationship with one was taboo. She was surprised her grandmother hadn't said anything about it, but then again, she was much more open-minded. Or prehaps Giratina charmed her enough that she felt he was a good match? Whatever the reason for her acceptance, she was glad her grandmother treated him so nicely.

No, the only way they could be together once he transforms back, would be the Distortion World. Which was already what they were doing prior to all this, but her stays would be extended. Giratina could easily create a livable environment for her, house-like structures already existed, and it would be a completely new world to explore. She was sure he'd love her visits. Heck, maybe she could move there. She'd likely be the first human to do so.

Cynthia didn't want to dwell on this though. She needed to make his last day tomorrow count. Give him as much of a good experience as possible. She tugged him toward a ring toss game, and with some guidance, they got two bags of kettle corn and some bottles of lemonade. She'd been hoping for the latter especially. The clinking of the glass marbles was nostalgic for her because her grandfather would always buy a few of them as souvenirs from Johto. They were rare or next to impossible to find outside of that region.

Giratina surprisingly had lost himself in the atmosphere of the festival. The best part was that no one knew who he was. People were so nice to him, he got some unexpected freebies from booths, got to participate in a dance, and while he missed up a lot, the whole experience made him feel like he was one of them. Even though he knew this wouldn't last, he'd still take it all in. Preserve it in his mind as a beautiful memory forever.

His felt a gentle squeeze of his hand from Cynthia. She was tugging him up from his seat.

" Come on! The fireworks are starting, and I know the perfect place to view them away from the crowd."

She led them up a small set of steps away from the fairgrounds, toward a forgotten shrine, one of many in this part of the region. She sat down on a stone bench, motioning Giratina to sit next to her. He took a seat just as the first loud boom and crackle lit up the sky in a dazzling shimmer of light. He'd seen fireworks from his vantage point in the Distortion World, but the colors and sounds were much more dull and muffled. But here? These were incredible. The sound, the colors, even the smell. It was nothing like that poor imitation inside his portals. Even better that he was here with Cynthia, leaning on his shoulder. The colors and lights dancing in her eyes. She looked up at him, smiled.

It was here he realized that being transformed like this wasn't so bad. Yes, he missed his true form, his abilities, his home, but that now seemed a worthwhile cost for this chance to spend time with her like this, to know what its like to be part of a community. At least until he had to go back to how he was. What would happen then? He knew she'd still love him, but they could never express it openly like they were now. They'd have to hide how they felt about each other around others.

The fireworks now felt like a reflection of his feelings about these past days.

Maybe they were on the wavelength and that sense of urgency to make this night count flowed through because before he knew it, her lips were on his. Soft, yet eager, and tasting like cotton candy. He broke the kiss, surprised by her forward gesture, and then returned it just as eager. Surprising them both.There was an intense desire flaring up, like some barrier had been broken, and now nothing stood between them. In this moment in time, they were the same, no incapable forms, no hidden feelings, just two beings so desperately, utterly, hopelessly in love.

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They stumbled into the house fumbling with each other. A few escaped laughs and shushing, though Cynthia assured him her grandmother wasn't home. She wouldn't be for awhile. She was helping her friends with the festival raffle.

Between kisses, Cynthia fiddled with the house keys, getting the door open, and then tumbled into the living room, her bedroom, then the bed.

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Author's notes:

Okay stopping here because of Tumblr's guidelines, but I'll get the rest out on a03 sometime next week, if nothing else goes wrong over there. I'm still a bit hesitant with that site. Once bitten, twice shy as they say.

[reeneysa]

A SIMPLE ACT OF KINDNESS

Where do I even begin? Today wasn’t particularly special, but something sparked a memory from last Tuesday when we commemorated our grandfather’s birthday (he was in heaven right now). My cousin Thea and I together with her and my parents opted to head to SM Uptown Northwing for dinner to honor him. After indulging in a feast at a seafood restaurant, we felt stuffed and decided to take a leisurely stroll to ease the fullness. Eventually, we found ourselves drawn to an empty bench, where we parked ourselves and engaged in casual conversation about anything and everything. As we relaxed, a stranger passed by, peddling balloons with tiny fairy lights inside. It reminded me of a similar sight we encountered at Malaybalay Kaamulan Grounds, where I had to purchase some but didn’t due to our car being laden with other belongings. Seeing the opportunity, Thea and I decided to buy the three remaining balloons from the passerby. I called out to her and inquired about the price of the balloon with fairy lights. She quoted 200 pesos for each, and without hesitation, I decided to purchase them. As I rose from my seat, I instructed her to wait while I fetched the money. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly. I offered her reassurance and promised to return promptly; you see, I forgot to bring a wallet with me, but I’m determined to retrieve the cash and give her the peace of mind she needed. So, there I was, eyeing those balloons I mentioned earlier. They were priced at 200 each, which I knew was a bit steep, but hey, I had the cash, so why not? As I approached the seller – a woman, probably in her 30s or 40s – I couldn’t help but notice her worn-out expression. After some back and forth, like what I have said earlier she started crying. At first, I was taken aback, wondering if something was wrong, but then she explained through her tears that with the money I’d just given her, she could now afford to feed her four children dinner. In that moment, I felt a rush of happiness knowing I’d made a difference, even in a small way. Brad later remarked that I was like an angel sent by God to help her. It made me reflect on how sometimes, the simplest acts of kindness can have the biggest impact. Thea, who witnessed the whole exchange, was also moved. She realized that even 200 pesos could bring immense joy and relief to someone in need. I took the opportunity to remind her that we should always be grateful for what we have, no matter how big or small. Blessings come in many forms – from family, friends, or even strangers. It’s important to stay humble and appreciate every bit of goodness that comes our way.

[ledenews]

Wheeling Nailers Run Winning Streak to Eight, Home Again This Afternoon

The Wheeling Nailers have shown their resiliency during the past few weeks, and on Saturday night, they were down, but not out against the Orlando Solar Bears. Wheeling trailed 3-1 in the second period before Justin Addamo and Matt Koopman scored to force overtime. Addamo was the hero in the extra session, as he slipped in a power play goal to deliver the 4-3 triumph for the Nailers. The win was Wheeling's eighth in a row, which is good for the third-longest winning streak in team history. Both teams got on the scoreboard in the first period, while the Nailers held an 11-7 advantage in shots. Orlando picked up the opening tally at the 8:20 mark. Avery Winslow took a hit to move the puck ahead to Tanner Schachle for a rush into the offensive zone. Schachle slipped a pass through to Brayden Low, who faked to his backhand to shovel in the goal. Wheeling answered 3:24 later. Matthew Quercia hustled in off of the rush, then dropped a pass off to Jordan Martel in the left circle. Martel stepped in and wired a bullet of a wrist shot into the top-right corner of the cage. The early part of the second period was controlled by the Solar Bears, who potted a pair of markers to go ahead by two. At the 5:47 mark, Zachary Massicotte tossed a shot into the pile, which bounced off of Darik Angeli and to over to Aaron Luchuk, who deposited the puck into the open right side of the twine. Two seconds after a power play had expired, Low collected his second of the night from just outside of the crease, as he redirected an initial attempt by Ryan Cox. The Nailers got some good energy to end the frame, as they pulled within one. Justin Addamo forced a turnover in the center circle, then finished the play with a wrist shot in the slot, following passes by Tanner Laderoute and Cédric Desruisseaux. The energy carried into the third period, and with 8:56 to go, Wheeling tied the game. Laderoute swept the puck around to Matt Koopman, who curled into the left circle, then banged a wrist shot off of the right post and in. The Nailers had to do some extra work to ensure themselves of at least one point, but they succeeded in killing a penalty with 5:57 left on the clock, and ultimately forced overtime. The extra session got decided in Wheeling's favor, starting with Lukas Svejkovsky drawing a penalty with a dazzling move to the goal. The Nailers called a timeout, and needed just ten seconds of power play time to end the match. Svejkovsky laid a pass to Justin Addamo, who dragged the puck to his forehand and stuffed home the winner, as Wheeling was victorious, 4-3. Jaxon Castor earned his fifth straight win for the Nailers, as he thwarted 22 of the 25 shots he faced. Evan Fitzpatrick took the overtime loss for Orlando, as he made 29 saves on 33 shots. The Nailers and Solar Bears will wrap up their weekend series in Wheeling on Sunday at 4:10. That game will be a Screen Time Sunday, in which one lucky fan will win a free TV courtesy of Walmart. Additionally, odd-numbered players will be skating with fans after the game, and $2 ice cream sundaes will be available at Flurry's. The next Big Six Promotional Game is Pittsburgh Penguins Night on February 10th, starring two-time Stanley Cup Champion Trevor Daley. There will also be specialty jerseys, a commemorative puck giveaway, a full team post game autograph session, and more. The Wheeling Nailers, considered one of the top things to do in Wheeling, West Virginia, provide affordable family entertainment for fans throughout the Ohio Valley. Read the full article

[hargrove-mayfields]

Everyone who knew Billy Hargrove had thought that even though he had only been in town for a short time, he wouldn’t be leaving without making his mark on Hawkins High when he graduated. He was their new top dog, their poster boy in all things social, athletic, and academic, so it only made sense he’d choose to go out with a bang.

Graduation is held outside on the football field, a first for the school because the senior class of ‘85 is made of up of too many kids to hold it in the gym like usual, which would theoretically give him the perfect opportunity to screw around and ruin the formal ceremony.

What nobody had expected though, was for him to be sitting up straight and attentive at graduation, his hair pulled up in a bun under his cap and his earring left at home, wearing a pair of dress shoes he couldn’t afford, with all kinds of pins and cords and even a valedictorians medal adorning his robes.

And nobody expected him to wait at the head of the stage as his full name, William Reuben Hargrove, was called, walking across in perfect time and doing every polite handshake, smiling at the teachers and administrators and getting his photo with his diploma in hand and a respectable smile on his face.

Because he was one of four valedictorians above two salutatorians, he wasn’t given the opportunity to read his own speech, but rather was chosen to read the graduates address. His reputation preceded him, and it was clear from the tension sparking the air that everyone, including the parents, expected him to pull something when called to the stage and given the microphone.

But he didn’t, he stood proud and read it off loud and clear, or at least recited it from memory that way, Max had to read it to him for weeks in practice because he couldn’t power through and read it, the text small and too close on the page it all jumbled together, stepping down from the stage when he was done instead adding any words of his own,

It’s like a collective sigh is let out when he sits back down, Nancy taking her turn up on the stage to read the closing remarks and turn the tassels, and just like that the ceremony passes by without a hitch.

Because even though all knew who they thought Billy was, they didn’t know about the man he had to be in front of Neil Hargrove, watching from the bleachers.

Instead, what his peers had all wanted was for Billy to walk to his own tune, slouching in his seat and picking at his nails when he wasn’t supposed to be paying attention, fumbling the fancy walk and keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as a big F-U to the school and all it stood for, and they definitely expected him to show up in a crumpled suit and scuffed old shoes, his hair a mess under the cap, looking like his true ragamuffin self.

Only, Steve Harrington was the one to do all that.

The rumor mill would have it that Stevie boy got wasted the night before graduation and was barely powering through it on a hangover. Truth would argue however, that he had woken up that morning alone, so depressed that no one, including himself, gave a damn about the accomplishment he had fought so very hard for, that he didn’t care about doing this stupid ceremony nobody would see anyways the right way, the Harrington way.

So he didn’t show up to senior assembly or to any of practices, he didn’t earn any scholarships or awards anyways, and he felt he hardly deserved the passing grades he was most likely given by sympathetic teachers who knew him all too well from retaking failed classes for years. He didn’t really feel like there was anything to commemorate, so he showed up, but only for the piece of paper, and maybe a little bit to prove his father who said he’d never be able to do it wrong.

After the ceremony was finished, they turned the field over to families to take pictures with their graduates, and graduates to take pictures with each other. Billy got a handful taken of him and his family by the school's photographer and Susan’s camera too, and a decent couple of Polaroids with the real friends he’d actually made, Tommy and Carol and Heather.

There were no pictures taken of Steve on his big day. He’d gone straight to the auditorium and gotten his diploma for the folder they handed him on stage, then drove himself home before anybody could stop him and ask for one.

~~~~~~~~~

It happens again in June when grad party season hits.

Among the most anticipated invites was the one to Billy Hargrove’s graduation party. Everyone was sure he’d have a big house party for the seniors, he always brought the life to the party like Hawkins had never seen it, it only made sense he’d have his own.

But again, his peers are mistaken, because nobody gets an invite other than that same handful of friends, and they all get theirs, along with a tiny print of Billy's unrecognizably serious senior photos, in the mail just like the rest of the Hargroves’ extended family.

Because his party is a family affair, an open house from eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon at an outdoor pavilion in the state park, where he’s supposed to dress nice and greet every member of the family with the same practiced smile, regardless of if he even knew who they were, or if they could tell the difference between him and his cousins.

None of it felt like real family to him though, when not even his mother could be bothered to come despite the effort he went through to get her an invite, and him and Max both playing the role of perfect children so well they almost forgot the other was there.

So him and his friends just sit at a table in the corner between making his appearances with great aunts who he didn’t even know, acting like ordinary kids under the watchful eye of Neil Hargrove until it’s over and they get to pack up the green and yellow decorations bought to be recycled for Max’s party again in four years and count all the money he’d gotten in cards, which he was supposed to be saving for college.

Steve again is the one to meet those expectations they held for Billy, the fallen keg king maybe not as undeserving of the title as they had thought.

As it turns out, his parents hadn’t been paying enough attention to realize it was time already to celebrate him, and it was far too late to send out invites if he wanted to have it before it was socially unacceptable but their standards at least, too much of his family living in Italy anyways, so he just had his own party.

The sort of party where kids came for the liquor, uncaring about the host of the state of their house after they're done getting their kicks, as long as they have something to do and a chemical codependency to form.

A couple of kids do actually bring him generic cards as congratulations, without money in them of course because they knew who he was and where he live, but not that his parents were planning on cutting him off as soon as they could, but most everyone else just came to get hammered, basically celebrating their own graduation with Steve’s money.

He’s miserable. He gets just as drunk as anyone else and passes out halfway through the party, waking up to a trashed house and a few stragglers on his lawn. Definitely not the type of celebration one has for their child they’re so proud of, or even actually gives two shits about.

~~~~~~~

Another expectation shattered, was the rivalry between Billy and Steve. They were supposed to be bitter enemies, the ex king shown up and beaten by the one who’d go on to steal his spotlight, but while they were different, from their personas and from each other botg, they were very much the same, and they recognized that in each other.

After they had thanksgiving break to let the tension between them cool off, things moved quickly from making friends at a house party neither of them wanted to be at to making out in the back seats of the Camaro.

By June they’ve been going steady for a couple of months already, but even though they’re officially at boyfriends status, Billy doesn’t go to Steve’s party. It was the night before his own and he’s pretty sure Neil would’ve killed him if he had stumbled home wasted just a couple of hours before he was supposed to look nice and represent the family well. Steve told him he didn’t expect him to come to something like that anyways, knew the party scene was for the side of Billy everybody but Steve liked to see, so he doesn’t go.

Steve does end up showing at Billy’s though, not able to stay long because Billy was sure Neil would see them for what they were, even if another of the assumptions about him was that he and Heather were dating. So he just drops by with a card and his well wishes, pretending he was only there as a courtesy, being members of the same sports teams and all.

He slips the card in the box and gives Billy and Tommy a little, too cool for this, definitely ditching as soon as he can, wave, and that’s the end of it.

But what nobody knows, or could presume about them, is that Billy came back to his house that night, and they had their own little celebration, for the both of them. No parents who couldn’t be bothered or who controlled every last minor detail, no people there in the name of just family or just to have a good time.

Just Billy and Steve, the real them that nobody knew like one another did.

[prentissinred]

Life in Pink

Rated T (mild suggestive content) Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2.5k AO3

Hi friends! Guess what? This past weekend marked one year since I posted my first story! How crazy is that?!

I’m so utterly grateful to this community for being such a bright spot in a difficult year. To everyone who’s taken the time to read something I’ve written, thank you for being so kind and supportive. It means more to me than I can express in words. To the brilliant, lovely, talented people I now get to call my friends, I love you all so very much.

To commemorate the occasion, I wrote a little something. This is set in the world of The Wonder of You, which was the first story I’ve ever written – but you don't need to have read that to understand this :)

I hope you like it <3

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“I mean it, JJ. Whatever happens, do not call us.”

“Yes, Emily. For the hundredth time, I promise not to call you.”

Aaron slipped his free hand into his wife’s and squeezed. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fine. Strauss knows we’re away, and our backlog is miraculously clear. We’ll be okay.”

He returned to packing up his things on his desk while Emily huffed and quietly muttered something unflattering about their superior under her breath. JJ chuckled and embraced her friend. “Go. Have a fabulous time and make us all incredibly jealous. We’ll see you in a week.”

After another round of goodbyes and poorly-veiled suggestive comments from Morgan and Dave, Aaron and Emily were in their car and on their way to Dulles, suitcases already packed and in the trunk.

It had been her idea. A holiday in Greece to commemorate their first wedding anniversary. There hadn’t been time to plan a honeymoon, their wedding in Dave’s backyard coming together with relative expediency. They had spent the weekend after the ceremony in a hotel, indulging in champagne and room service for 48 hours before returning to work the following Monday.

Neither of them thought much of it after that, swept up in both work and newlywed life. They moved into a new home, a classic Colonial in Arlington with extra bedrooms and a white wrap-around porch, and adopted a dog at Jack’s insistence.

And before either of them had realized it, it had been a year. Aaron had remembered the upcoming date over Saturday breakfast as he cut bacon into little pieces for Jack, which were then promptly fed to Boo who waited patiently under the table next to Jack’s chair. Emily and Aaron shared a look of bemused surprise as they came to the realization that neither of them had planned anything to celebrate the occasion.

“We could take a trip,” Emily suggested casually. “We haven’t been away before, just the two of us.”

He’d been doubtful at first, unsure if they could really manage to get the time away with such short notice. But it was clear how enthused Emily was by the prospect, though she hid it well under masked nonchalance. Though she always insisted she was more than happy to spend her time at home, appreciative of the roots they had cultivated after all the travel and displacement of her past, Aaron knew there was still a part of her that missed that heady thrill of exploring an unfamiliar place for the first time. And truthfully, he could think of little else that he would enjoy more than having his wife all to himself for a few days.

So they settled on Greece, a place new to them both, and, with some luck, managed to clear a full week on both of their calendars.

They had nearly reached the parking lot at Dulles — having already checked in with Jessica, Jack and Boo over the phone — when Emily’s phone pinged with a text message from JJ, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Before Aaron could question her, his phone rang, Chief Strauss’s number on the front screen. Panic flashed across both their faces before he reluctantly answered. Emily could hear brief snippets of the conversation as the pit in her stomach steadily widened.

“...apologize...New York...fourth suicide bomber in three weeks...escalating...need everyone…”

Once he hung up the phone, Aaron took the next exit off the highway, pulling up to the curb once it was safe to do so. They both sat in silence for an extended minute, disappointment heavy in the air. Finally, Emily attempted to break the tension, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get the refundable tickets?”

Aaron let out a weak, sad chuckle and leaned over the center console to kiss her, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” before starting the car up again to head to the airstrip.

When they walked onto the plane, the team was uncharacteristically silent, looking on at their boss and colleague with poorly concealed apology, as though they were personally at fault for this unfortunate turn of events.

It took five days for the case to come to an end, the team finding the next bomber with minutes to spare, leading them to the ringleader of the group orchestrating the attacks. The date of their anniversary came and went, with nothing to mark the day except a quickie in the shower before they left their shared room. Objectively, both Aaron and Emily knew they had made the right decision, compulsory or not. Lives were saved, and the team functioned at their best when they were a complete set.

Still, while Aaron wrapped things up at the precinct after sending Emily back to the hotel, he couldn’t help but feel sorry that the first year of his marriage had passed in such a benign manner. As he drove back to the hotel, watching people shuffle and hustle about their weekend, an inkling of a plan formed and he picked up the phone to call JJ.

He found Emily in their room, her back turned to him as she hunched over the bed in the final stages of packing. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to admire her before asking, "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

She jumped a little, the close of the door too quiet for her to hear him walk in, then raised a brow at him. "Packing? Don't we have to be at the airport in an hour?"

"Change of plans." Aaron sauntered up to his wife, pulling her in by the waist so he could kiss her. "We're leaving tomorrow."

“Since when?”

"Since I decided that you and I deserve a night to ourselves." He chuckled softly at her confused expression, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry we couldn't get our time away. I thought we could spend the night out here instead. Celebrate the best year of my life with my beautiful wife."

She softened in his arms, molding herself to him as she pushed up on her toes and threaded her hands in his hair, kissing him breathless. “What about everyone else?” she asked, mouthing along his jaw, nosing the length of his neck.

The blood promptly rushed south from his head, a familiar occurrence anytime Emily’s hands ran over him as they were doing now. He swallowed, breathing in deeply to ensure he retained some semblance of control. "I told them to leave tonight; we could fly on our own tomorrow. But they offered to stay the night.”

She laughed against his throat, hot and ticklish on his skin, feeling almost giddy by this unforeseen development, “Okay then.” The hands on her hips tightened as she began kissing down to his chest, and she grinned up at him, lightly palming the front of his black slacks. “Are you sure you want to go out? We could just lock ourselves in here for the night.”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully pinching her cheek, “Cheeky, Mrs. Hotchner. But I have a plan and, tempting as you are, you will not sway me from it.” Knowing her go-bag always contained a nicer dress in case their work called for it, he added, “Now, get dressed,” swatting her ass lightly for good measure.

“Aaron, it’s Saturday night in New York City. You realize we’re not getting in anywhere halfway decent,” Emily pointed out while she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Ye of little faith, my dear wife. I told you, I have a plan.” Aaron also rid himself of his jacket and tie, replacing his shirt with a fresh white button-down and rolling up the sleeves. He went to clean himself up in the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his magnificent wife attempting to zip up a one-shoulder red dress. The same dress he’d slid off her shoulders in his bedroom after dinner on their first date. “Is that…”

"Would you believe I didn't plan this?" she grinned, turning her back to him. "Help me?"

Instead of doing as she asked, Aaron nudged the zipper, skating a knuckle up the length of her bare back and planting a kiss at the top of her spine.

“Aaron..." she breathed, tilting her head back against his, "if you don't cut that out, we're not leaving this room." He groaned into her neck, reluctantly admitting she was right, finally zipping her up and smoothing her hair back over her shoulder.

When they emerged outside their hotel ten minutes later onto the bustling streets of Midtown Manhattan, they walked the few blocks to Grand Central Station, just barely catching the subway headed downtown. Despite her initial doubts, Emily’s smile hadn’t left her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Aaron led her by hand out of the subway when they reached their destination, climbing the stairs onto the southwest corner of Washington Square Park. The air was hot and muggy, New York in August, even as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. Music filtered through from the park, mixing with the din of the crowds enjoying the first stage of their evening.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing now?”

“Not yet. Come on, this way.”

They crossed the street, turned the corner, and Aaron finally stopped outside a red awning.

“Pizza?” Emily looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise as she took in the pizzeria.

“Or hot dogs, or Indian, or Greek, Italian, Vietnamese...We can go anywhere you want in the world in the next 10 blocks.”

She beamed up at him, catching onto his plan, and her grin was infectious. “Can we do them all?”

He laughed, “Lead the way.”

They started with pizza at Joe’s — a pepperoni slice for him and a Sicilian slice for her. Then a stuffed pita filled to the brim with fresh falafel, tomatoes, and hummus. A chicken tikka kati roll. And finally a shared plate of chicken and rice drizzled in white sauce from the halal food cart next to the park.

Their hands never strayed far from the other, the blissful anonymity of the city prompting more affectionate displays from both of them. Aaron stood behind her, hands on her hips or around her waist, as they waited in line. Emily ran her fingers through his hair as they sat on barstools, so smushed together from the crowd that she was practically sitting in his lap. They stood on the sidewalk waiting for their food to be prepared, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips moving together in languid kisses as if they had all the time in the world. To any stranger who could be bothered to look their way, they looked like any other couple smitten and blissfully in love, hiding every scar, hurdle, and hardship they had overcome to reach this point. Two figures floating amongst a sea of millions.

“I’m so full,” Emily moaned, clutching her stomach dramatically as they wandered hand-in-hand down Houston St. “I think you’ve killed me.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. We haven’t gotten to dessert.”

Two spoons and one cup of salted chocolate ice cream later, they made it back to the park, still lively as if the night had only just started. The marble archway was lit up, the Empire State Building in the distance peeking through the gap. People sat around the edge of the fountain, dipping their feet into the cool water.

Aaron and Emily walked through the students and artists and skateboarders and tourists, dipping intermittently into their shared dessert absorbing the infectious energy. They reached the other end of the park, stopping for a moment to watch a street performer, and turned down a new street, neither of them wanting the evening to come to an end.

The unmistakable sound of a piano floated out of a bar as two patrons exited, catching Emily by surprise as they walked past. She jerked to a stop, captivated, then tugged Aaron's hand to the door. He followed her lead, descending down a narrow flight of stairs that led into a darkened lounge. Tufted couches and armchairs in jewel-toned velvets lined the walls, dimly lit by rounded art deco sconces. Two bartenders seamlessly crafted elegant cocktails behind a lavish bar that took up the back wall. And in the center, a jazz quartet illuminated by a spotlight as couples swayed around them on a dance floor. Even in the dark, Aaron could see the way Emily's eyes lit up, entranced by this unexpected discovery, and he discreetly asked a waitress if they could be seated.

They nestled into the corner of an empty couch, Aaron's hand resting on Emily's knee as they both sipped their respective cocktails. Truthfully, he spent very little time watching the band, his eyes trained on his wife. He took in every secret smile, every small part of her lips when the melody soared to a peak. She was breathtaking, and she was his, and not for the first time in his life did he wonder how he had ever gotten quite so lucky.

The song shifted into something he recognized, a string of notes from the saxophone eliciting an audible gasp from Emily. He grasped her hand and tugged her up from the chair, smiling at the delight on her face. He pulled her in close, one hand low on her back, his cheek resting against hers, as they began to gently shift amongst the other couples.

After a minute, Emily’s voice came in whispers in his ear, her tongue curling beautifully over the French he couldn’t understand.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie

She pulled back in his arms, her gaze locking on his. A droplet tipped over her lash and onto her cheek. Her love for the man who held her — her husband, hers — bubbled and popped and diffused in her chest, filling her until she felt like she was floating. Aaron brought his hand up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb wiping away the errant drop on her skin with enough tenderness and adoration to warrant a fresh bout of tears.

Emily shakily rose to press her lips to his, tightening her hold of him, just as the song trailed to its conclusion. Applause erupted, but at that moment, the world around them didn’t exist.

“I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I love you.”

--

Song: La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Translation (thank you Google):

When he holds me in his arms He speaks to me softly I see life through rose-colored glasses

He speaks words of love to me Everyday words And that does something to me

He has entered into my heart A piece of happiness The cause of which I know It’s only him for me, and me for him, for life He said that to me, swore it forever

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue [teaser]

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: ~20k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

❀ coming 1/19 at 7 P.M. PST;

❀ a/n: yes, i posted a teaser half a year ago but here’s a little snippet that i finally got around to writing!

POSTED AS OF 1/19

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush texture of his lips. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would think you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifetime commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

[uwmspeccoll]

Milestone Monday

After the death of his paternal grandfather Maximilian I, on this date, July 28 in 1519, Charles V was elected Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, thus beginning his consequential 37-year reign. His official coronation, however, would not take place until ten years later on February 22, 1530 when he was crowned by Pope Clement VII in Bologna, the last emperor to receive a papal coronation.

To commemorate the milestone of his election, we look  to his later coronation with these images from a facsimile edition of commemorative engravings of the coronation procession of Charles V originally produced in 1535 by Nicolaas Hogenberg, and published in this later edition by Henricus Hondius at the Hague sometime between 1620 and 1619. The facsimile, which includes 40 plates, was presented by the Junta Nacional del Centenario in memory the 400th anniversary of Charles V’s death, published in Madrid by Joyas Bibliográficas in 1958.

The plates depict the triumphal procession of Charles V and Pope Clement VII and all the princes and dukes of the Spanish empire. The Pope and the newly-crowned Emperor can be seen beneath a canopy in the fourth image shown here, but our favorites are the last three plates displaying the Emperor’s largesse to the public. 

The first depicts a temporary structure of two columns topped by the double-headed eagle and two lions, from whose mouths pour white wine that is eagerly taken up by the people below, sometimes in excess as can be seen by the woman vomiting in the lower left and two citizens completely passed out on top of each other in the lower right. The last two plates show a public roasting of an entire cow stuffed with other animals and loaves of bread being distributed to the public (which looks more like a public stoning).

View another Milestone Monday post.

[hes-writer]

If I Could Fly

Summary: y/n wants harry to come home

Warnings: angst and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 3522 words

Based on: Harry being really busy all of the time, like hardly coming home or spending time with the reader and one night the reader is at home listening to ‘If I Could Fly’ and she’s just wishing the words he sang in the song were true 

____

“I can’t believe you’re leaving before you even get here,” Y/N remarked, a hint of dismay enveloping her voice at Harry’s statement. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly, almost as if the device was the only connection between her and Harry.

He was miles and miles away from her, somewhere where the sun rose while the moon adamantly plastered itself on the night sky where she was. She wished countless times that maybe one day he would surprise her by coming home unexpectedly, his arms in an open gesture, bags laying heavy on his feet beside his worn Vans with the brightest smile on his face. His clothes would reek of the airport and travelling and his tired face drooping where the eyebags lay underneath his lashes. Harry would release a quiet breath of relief when his girlfriend trudged down the stairs with the same loving arms that he comes home to every time he returns, legs peeking out from an oversized hoodie that he left for her and an equally happy yet worn-out face that would glimmer once she saw him. 

But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and it hasn’t happened in months.

“I just need some time alone, Y/N,” He replied with a soft tone, fatigue was taking over his every limb and was seeping his throat. The thought of passing out in a dreamless sleep in his plush hotel bed was too tempting. “Please understand,”

“I do understand that you need time alone. But I don’t get how you can go so long without seeing me,” She dug her fingertips into her bare thighs, limbs folded beneath their shared bed. The lamp on her bedside table was switched on to dimly cover the room in an orange-yellow hue. She eyed the shadows on the wall with a sad stare, chest slowly deflating at the thought that maybe he didn’t miss her at all. 

Harry sighed through the speakers, his lashes weighing heavy on his lids as another wave of tiredness washed over him. “I do miss you and I do want to see you,”

“Then why don’t you?”

Harry’s first world tour was a global success. Millions of his fans saw him from all around the world and it made Y/N very proud of him. The endless joy and happiness he brought to peoples’ faces made her admire his caring nature more and more each day. Sometimes she felt as though their relationship was in the back burner of his mind, but he proved time and time again that that wasn’t the case. Until now, that is. 

His tour had ended in September. Usually, he would be on the first plane back home to celebrate his achievements with Y/N, but work commitments smothered him and he never got the chance to visit her. And she did try her best to take time off work, but her studies didn’t agree with what she wanted. School was becoming increasingly difficult with the upper-division requirements being thrown at her, to be finished in the four-year timeframe it took to finish her degree. Y/N just couldn’t find the time to drop everything and spend a few days in a rented hotel just to see him--no matter how much she wanted to. 

Y/N thought to herself that she could handle a few more weeks without Harry, choosing to focus on essays and research papers that needed to be read and written. However, a few weeks turned into months, and soon the holidays passed by without as much as a glimpse of his face showering her. She didn’t want to throw him under the bus, but it was clear that Harry didn’t bear the same weight as she did. His excuses built every time they shared a call, the disconnection between them was obvious in the sense that their calls lasted only a few minutes--nothing like the hours they shared, drunk on wine, talking about anything and everything. 

The couple didn’t spend the holidays together as Harry was stuck, unable to find a flight back home and Y/N forgave him because it wasn't like he promised to spend it with her. It was okay until she caught the pictures swirling on social media. A massive grin plastered on his face as he partied on a yacht with Kendall--- a slap to the face, a shot of reality. Whatever it was, it broke Y/N down on Christmas day where she walked down the living room alone. The Christmas decorations mocking her lonely festivity, the tree decored with red and green ornaments and presents stuffed at the base. All invitations to spend the day were rejected in favour of spending it with Harry, hopelessly hoping that he would open the door with an apologetic face and a present in his hand. She was stupid to even let her fantasies take over reality. 

“Y/N,” Harry’s gruff remark of her name brought her back to the present. “I’m heading to bed now,”

“O-okay,” She stuttered out a response, not having much in her to argue more about why* they needed to see each other. “I love you,”

“Love ya’too,” The ringer clicked shut, signifying that he had hung up. The receiver emitted a dull tone as Y/N took the time to press the end button on her screen. 

______

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to play a playlist full of sad songs but Y/N was way past questioning her decisions when she was drunk on white wine and sadness. The dejection that floated in her lungs made it difficult to breathe--or maybe it was the heaving sobs she was about to release when the first few piano keys of If I Could Fly reverberated in the cold bedroom. The vinyl player that Y/N bought Harry added a sense of nostalgia to the record spinning continuously. A symbolism that Y/N couldn’t move on from ever-changing times and wavering discomfort that the world threw at her. She wasn’t able to adapt to his needs of having time for himself. At the same time, she wondered if he understood her apprehension--if her sense of abandonment was discernible in the way she practically begged him to come home. 

If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you I think I might give up everything, just ask me to

It hurt more to recall that Harry had written this song for her as a way to commemorate the same despondency he felt while he was away. The relentless urgency to drop everything and come home to her used to be something that laid all cards on the table and left no questions to be asked. Their actions were enough to show much they truly loved each other.  

Pay attention, I hope that you listen 'cause I let my guard down

Right now I'm completely defenceless

And when they were smothered with each other scents, legs tangling underneath the sheets as his strong arms wrapped around her waist like a taut bowtie did they see each other at their most vulnerable. It seemed as though Harry was drained from everything, having given his all to the fans, his everything to the ever-prying lenses of the media. His whole being to be extracted by questions and criticisms yet nothing could refill the void in his chest like Y/N did. Her love was powerful enough to have him addicted to the feeling. 

For your eyes only, I'll show you my heart

For when you're lonely and forget who you are

She reminisced their conversation on the blank wall in front of her, the flute of wine held by her unsteady fingers as she gulped another swallow of the burning liquid. The feeling of Harry’s soft palms draped over the expanse of her eyes, covering her sight even more so than her closed lids. His excited giggles tickling her ears as he directed her body in front of his, encouraging her to walk wherever he needed her to be. 

I'm missing half of me when we're apart

Now you know me, for your eyes only

Y/N could remember his words clearly; how he confessed his deepest desires for a love that only she could give, how he uttered the three words she longed to hear ever since she watched him flip a pancake on the pan, chin jutting over his shoulder when he heard a soft giggle after seeing the pancake fold on itself in a failed execution. He didn’t know who he was without her by his side, a piece of him seemingly swimming in a sea of the unknown when he failed to hear her voice on the daily. 

I've got scars even though they can't always be seen

And pain gets hard, but now you're here and I don't feel a thing

And when he opened up to her for the first time; about his past and the pain, he endured with previous relationships that left him with nothing but a reminder that most people only liked him because he was Harry Styles. Handsome, rich and a branch of connections; a mere business transaction to be stepped on to move up in the industry. 

I can feel your heart inside of mine, I feel it

I've been going out of my mind, I feel it

His hand grabbed her dainty wrists, lips puckering to press a gentle kiss at the crown of her head. Their chests faced against each other, his head ducking down to meet her eyes as he continued to place the flat of her hand against where hist heart lay. The hammering of his heart felt as though it would beat right out of his chest and Harry wondered if she could feel it through his thick skin, the layers of vulnerability being peeled back in a moment of openness and complete trust between the two of them. Y/N looked up at him with a confused face, brows quirking in a silent question until she felt it--the dull throb of his heart against her palm. 

You’ve got my heart in the palm of your hand, he admitted. 

Know that I'm just wasting time

And I hope that you don't run from me

The music drifted to silent background noise, Harry’s voice coming stronger with more emphasis on the words that meant the most to him. Y/N’s heart clenched; how could she run away when all she thought about was him? When all she needed was his figure beside her, warming her up when the morning breeze developed goosebumps on her skin? She thought about the times she relied heavily on him that her happiness didn’t exist without him; what a sad conclusion to her dumpster day. She didn’t want to flounder her brain with doubts, not when she could call Harry and get a direct answer from the source. 

Y/N shakily dialled his number, thumb drifting past the screen to see his profile pop up right before the keypad signalled that it was ringing.

And it rang until she got sent to voicemail. She tried again, hoping that he was too far away to hear the ringing of his phone and that he would answer soon before she deteriorated in on herself from overwhelming emotions of missing him and ruminating what this meant for their relationship. 

The dial tone screeched her ears, making Y/N want to throw the device across the room in frustration. Beep.

_____

Harry rested in his bed for the next few weeks, dizziness dissolving into thin air once his bum hit the soft mattress, instantly relaxing his tense muscles from the activities of the day. His face mask lay folded on the nightstand, his pink beanie crumpled from being stuffed in his coat pocket. He sighed softly as he was met with silence; the city was sleeping, the roads were empty with an odd couple of cars. The only thing running was his mind taking him to his last conversation with Y/N--the irritation they held for each other coupled with fatigue surely wasn’t the way he preferred to have ended the call before he left for Japan.

He wanted complete isolation from the outside world--as outside as it gets. No phones, no social media, no paparazzi following him to and fro his dinner to a restaurant. Living as a normal person even if it was only temporary. 

Still, he couldn’t help but eye his phone planted screen-down on the table. The lifeless device seeming odd when it wasn’t buzzing incessantly. 

“Fuck it,” Harry muttered, reaching over to press the power button for a few seconds, watching a bitten apple appear on the dark screen. “Come on,”

His breath got caught in his throat when his lock screen popped up; a picture of Y/N and him in their backyard. His face was scrunched in a smile while her pink lips pressed a chaste kiss on his skin, her hands squishing his cheeks as he jokingly tried to getaway. His arm was outstretched in a selfie pose, ending in teasing jokes about Harry’s inability to take such photos on his own. The phone buzzed in his hand, the tag of missed calls making Harry sit up straighter on the bed, followed by a line of “Voicemail(s)”.

Harry used his fingerprint to unlock the device, clicking on the green phone app to check out his messages. He rolled his eyes slightly at the automated machine instructing him to press whatever buttons until the keypad appeared and a message from Y/N started playing. 

“Why won’t you come home?” She wailed through the receiver, stuttered breaths muffling her words but still discernible. “Why won’t you come home to me, Harry?”

He clicked on the volume button, increasing the painful cries that Y/N released. The shakiness of her voice caused a chill to crawl up his spine; he couldn’t believe that she even thought of saying that to him. Of course, he wanted to come to see her. 

But not right now. 

“Don’t you want to come home anymore?” 

She sniffled a bit, ceasing her dry sobs as she tried to control her breaths. In the background, he could hear the piano chords of a special song that made the ache in his chest much more prominent. 

“I understand. I get it,” Her quiet confession caused him to strain his ears further, almost too quiet to hear. “But I miss you and it hurts,’

“It hurts too much and I’m not sure if I can take much more,” The pain in her voice was too much to bear for Harry, “I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s all my fault,”

Harry shook his head, curls catching his temples as he desperately tried to deny her words as if it would do anything. “No, no it’s not, Y/N”

“I should’ve flown out to see you. I should’ve tried harder to understand. I should’ve been more prepa--,” Beep.

He hurriedly tapped on the next message, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He had barely unpacked his items, his toiletries scattered in the bathroom but everything else was otherwise intact. 

“Remember this song?” 

He nodded, hearing the melody in the background. 

“Do you s-still feel the same?”

Harry nodded once again, cradling the phone between his neck and shoulder. His large hand shoved his electric toothbrush and toothpaste in his toiletries bag. He sheathed his head in the pink beanie, face mask elastically going around his head. He slipped on some socks and his black Vans. He made a quick conversation with his friend who had generously let him stay in his home, for the time being, informing him that he would be leaving earlier than planned. 

The ride from the house to the airport seemed like the slowest time he had ever experienced, his body itching to hold Y/N’s frail and pliant body in his arms. The taxicab made great headway for him to book the next flight home, his small amount of baggage making it easier to go through security and the checkpoint. He felt a couple of stares on him as he sat near the boarding gate, but the people kept a respectful distance from him, giving him shy smiles and timid waves to which he returned despite the turmoil in his heart building with each passing second that he spent away from Y/N, 

The next announcement informed him that his flight would be boarding soon, making him stand up and stretch his limbs, passport and boarding pass on hand for a breezy exchange. He walked the tunnel with a heavy heart, his duffel bag feeling denser on his shoulder. Harry greeted the flight attendant with a small smile before plopping on his designated seat. He sighed heavily watching the runway blink with various lights. 

His mind was dizzy with words to say to Y/N when he came home but he knew that there was only one thing that Y/N wanted; honesty. 

_____

His driver welcomed him with a polite nod and tired smile, the early hours of the morning paired with the unforeseen circumstance causing a pang of slight guilt on Harry’s part but he couldn’t quite focus on that when he was practically the closest he had ever been to Y/N for the first time in months. His jaw twitched as he refrained from clenching it at the thought. 

The car slowed down to a stop, his thoughts distracting him from the drive to the airport and to his home. “Thank you, James,”

The man nodded in appreciation, “Welcome home, sir. Been a long time, huh?”

Harry felt his eyes gloss over at the emphasis, “Yeah,”

He exited the vehicle, breathing in deeply as he took in the sight of his home where Y/N would be. His feet couldn’t take him to the door fast enough, tripping over the gravel a few times before eventually reaching the front door. 

The house was eerily silent, a blanket of coldness lapping at him when it would usually scorch him with comforting warmth and the scent of vanilla cookies. He toed off his sneakers, curling his toes from being confined for hours. He ascended their staircase where their bedroom was, noting the way the Christmas tree was still up, yet the presents remained unopened.

“Y/N?” He whispered, his timbre hesitant yet excited with building anticipation of seeing his love for the first time in quite some time. He found her curled up in their bed, dressed in his frequently worn ‘donuts’ hoodie, her feet clad in his black Nike socks. Y/N even had one of his basketball shorts draped over her waist, his red patterned bandana clutched between her small hands. 

Her cheeks were pink with dry tears staining the skin, lashes curled with exhaustion. Harry mirrored the frown on her lips, the crease between her brows deepening until her mouth choked on a sob. She was crying in her sleep. 

He dropped his bag softly on the ground, slippery socks causing him to fall by her side, barely catching his weight before it crushed her and jerked her awake. Tears cascaded from her closed lids, silently muttering his name.

“Shhh, I’m here,” He caressed her hair, pressing kisses on her temple. He laid against the headboard, pulling her pliant body closer until her head met his chest. “Don’t cry. ‘M home,”

Her chest rattled with a breath, lurching her body awake. She awoke with a gasp, frantically looking around to take in her surroundings, realizing that she was still where she drifted off last night. 

“Hey,” Harry quipped, watching Y/N with glazed eyes, catching salty liquid on his waterline.

Her head snapped upwards, seeing Harry’s face staring down at her. Y/N opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped. She fought against his grip, almost melting at his arms wrapped around her body. Her knees straddled his waist, burying her face against the junction of his neck and shoulder, smearing the skin with wet tears. Her hands enclosed his thin waist into a compact hug, pulling him as close as he could go to hers. She was afraid that he might disappear if she let go.

“You’re here,” Y/N sobbed, hauling back to press her palms against his wet cheeks, green eyes gazing back at her. “You’re home. With me,”

She leaned in for a heated kiss, whimpering at the touch of his soft lips on hers. Their mouths moulding in a searing act of love that relieved both of their chests in silent agreement that they were okay. 

Harry pulled away, knocking his head gently against the towering headboard, his breathing heavily from the passionate kiss, “I’m here. I’m home. With you,” 

________

Permanent Taglist: @fangirl-moment-x @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @harrysstyleseyes @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @particularnarry @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart @myfangirlworld @haroldssfedora @winchesterwife27 @w0wfxck @arypesanchez @harriemelonsugar @someinsanefangirl @derangedcupcake @bobo-bush @peachesaquari @shawnsnovel @ivegotparticulartaste @adore-you-hs2 @combativehood @simonsbluee @hockeyschmockey​ @belovedcherry​ @harrysahottie @adore-you-hs2 @splendidsunsetsx @turtoix @la-cey

[somethingimworkingon]

Zanele Muholi, Tate Modern

Walking into the Zanele Muholi exhibition at Tate Modern is like discovering another country.

In 2017 Muholi’s ongoing self-portrait series, Somnyama Ngonyama/Hail the Dark Lioness, was exhibited in London’s Autograph Gallery. In press reviews and posters on the tube that autumn, the images were unmissable and unmistakeable: stark black and white photographs of an impassive face crowned with Brillo pads or clothes pegs, festooned with vacuum cleaner hoses. At the time, Autograph wrote, the artist: “uses her body as a canvas to confront the politics of race and representation… Gazing defiantly at the camera, Muholi challenges the viewer’s perceptions while firmly asserting her cultural identity on her own terms: black, female, queer, African.”

Fast forward to 2020, and Tate Modern’s major Zanele Muholi exhibition. Visiting hours at the museum flicker in and out of existence as we navigate COVID lockdowns – now you can come! No, wait, sorry, you can’t. Try rebooking for a month’s time.

When I finally squeaked in, in early December, I expected more Dark Lionesses. I had a vague idea that Zanele Muholi was a bit like a South African Cindy Sherman.

I was wrong.

This exhibition shows the breadth of Muholi’s practice, of which the self-portraits are just one strand. The range and energy of the work is astounding. Especially given that in 2012 their studio was burgled and five years of work on hard drives was stolen.

Another mental adjustment: Muholi’s pronouns are they/them/theirs.

Born in Umlazi, South Africa, in 1972, at the height of Apartheid, Zanele’s father died when they were a baby and their mother, Bester, a domestic worker, had to leave her eight children for employment in a white household. Zanele was brought up by extended family. They started working as a hairdresser, then studied photography at Market Photo Workshop in Johannesburg, graduating in 2003, and going on to be awarded their MFA in Documentary Media from Ryerson University in Toronto in 2009.

On returning to South Africa they started to document the lives of the LGBTQI+ community.

Aftermath (2004)

The exhibition opens with a group of deceptively gentle images. In the first, Aftermath (2004), a torso is cropped from waist to knees, hands modestly clasped in front of Jockey shorts, a huge scar running down the person’s right leg almost like a piece of body art. In another, Ordeal (2003), hands wring out a cloth in an enamel basin of water placed on a floor. A third image shows a cropped, seated figure, again waist to thighs, hands folded in their lap, plastic hospital ties around their wrists. These pictures have a softness and beauty which completely belies the fact that their subjects are all survivors of sexual violence and “corrective rape”.

As the caption to the last picture, Hate crime survivor I, Case number (2004) explains, “Corrective rape is a term used to describe a hate crime in which a person is raped because of their perceived sexual orientation or gender identity. The intended consequence of such acts is to enforce heterosexuality and gender conformity.” This horrific practice is by no means unique to South Africa, but the term seems to have originated there – feminist activist Bernedette Muthien used it during an interview with Human Rights Watch in 2001 – and its effects on the community resonate throughout this exhibition.

Ordeal (2003)

They don’t, however, dominate. While the exhibition starts by showing the evils of intolerance of gender nonconformity, Muholi goes on to reclaim, elevate and celebrate that same nonconformity.

With Being (2006 – ongoing) we move on to photographs of naked bodies entwined – again tightly cropped, again soft black and white, but now without outside interference. They are sensual, personal, and owned. A series of portraits of two female lovers, Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta (2007) switches to colour and full figures. The couple sit entwined, laughing: they kiss, and bathe side by side standing in an enamel basin, in a warm, defiant echo of the scene in Ordeal (2003) across the room.

Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta, Ext.2, Lakeside, Johannesburg (2007)

The series Brave Beauties, started in 2014, is “a series of portraits of trans women, gender non-conforming and non-binary people. Many of them are also beauty pageant contestants.” The queer beauty pageant is many things: a celebration – and redefinition – of beauty, a declaration of independence by contestants, a challenge to “heteronormative and white supremacist cultures,” and an attempt, as Muholi puts it, “to change mind-sets in the communities [the contestants] live in, the same communities where they are most likely to be harassed or worse.”

Melissa Mbambo, Durban, South Beach (2017). Melissa Mbambo is a trans woman and beauty queen, Miss Gay South Africa 2017

Roxy Msizi Dlamini, Parktown, Johannesburg (2018)

Akeelah Gwala, Durban (2020)

These portraits are made collaboratively, Muholi and the subjects choosing clothing, location and poses together. Some of them, like the picture of Roxy Msizi Dlamini (2018) have the quality of a classic glamorous studio shot. Others, like Akeeleh Gwala, Durban (2020), posing in a bikini against a scruffy brick wall in what seems to be a deserted brick alleyway, are a reminder of the vulnerability of the subject. Akeelah Gwala’s “Testimony” in the exhibition catalogue says: “I am 24 years old. I am a transgender woman. Growing up was very difficult because your parents think this is a boy… I was raped when I was 16 years old…” The rapist, a well-known pastor, threatened Akeelah’s family, forcing them out of their home. Akeelah refers to Muholi as “Sir Muholi” and says, “I have taken part in several beauty pageants. I perform because as a Brave Beauty, it is important to be visible and make others know about us and respect us as human beings.”

Miss Lesbian I-VII, Amsterdam (2009)

The theme of beauty pageants also features in the series of self-portraits Miss Lesbian I-VII, Amsterdam (2009), where Muholi casts themself as a beauty queen, an early identification with the wider community prefiguring Brave Beauties. The 2009 series brings together several of Muholi’s themes: the beauty pageant and the fashion/fashion magazine world; who gets to perform and who gets to watch; who gets to choose what beauty means? And, as an aside that may sound trivial but isn’t, kitchen utensils as headgear.

As the exhibition unfolds, we discover other projects. Muholi describes themselves as a visual activist, and they have a large network of collaborators, including the collective Inkanyiso (“Light” or “Illuminate” in isiZulu), a non-profit organisation focused on queer visual activism. We see images documenting marches and protests, weddings and funerals, and “After Tears” – gatherings held after burials to celebrate the life of the lost loved one.

Nathi Dlamini at the After Tears of Muntu Masombuka’s funeral, KwaThema, Springs, Johannesburg (2014)

Death is a constant presence in Muholi’s community and work. The largest space in this exhibition is given to Faces and Phases (2006 – ongoing), a collection of portraits – 500, and counting. The images “celebrate, commemorate and archive the lives of Black lesbians, transgender and gender non-conforming individuals.” People appear more than once. Some spots on the walls are empty, marking a portrait yet to be taken or a participant no longer there. One wall is dedicated to those who have passed away.

Not only is this a powerful and moving project, it’s an extraordinarily beautiful set of pictures. As are the last works in the show, the series that started in 2012: Somnyama Ngonyama, Hail the Dark Lioness.

In this work, Muholi has darkened their skin and whitened their eyes, and composed the picture in the manner of a classical, perfectly-lit studio portrait, posing with found objects as “costume” – a footstool as a helmet, say. There is so much to unpick in these images – references to colonialism, Apartheid, to the politics of race and representation, to femininity and “women’s work”.  Muholi presents us with a kaleidoscope of views of injustice, equal parts beautiful and brutal. The photographs were created in different parts of the world, at different times, combining what could almost be witty accessorising with intense cultural and political commentary.

Quinso, The Sails, Durban (2019)

The intellectual focus of every picture is slightly different. Zamile, KwaThema (2016) shows Muholi draped in a striped blanket, as used in South African prisons during Apartheid. In Quinso, The Sails, Durban (2019) Muholi’s hair is adorned with silvery Afro combs, a symbol of African and African diaspora cultural pride. In Nolwazi II, Nuoro, Italy (2015) their hair is stuffed with pens – a reference to the “pencil test” whereby, under Apartheid, if a pencil pushed into a person’s hair fell out they were “classified as white”.

Nolwazi II, Nuoro, Italy (2015)

As mentioned above, Muholi calls themselves a visual activist rather than an artist – though galleries, like Tate Modern, might beg to disagree. Walking through this exhibition, I came away with the impression that their work is on the intersection of art and documentary photography – but also that everything is documentary: everything is story telling, and bearing witness, and the place where “documenting the community” and “expressing oneself as an artist” is continually blurred.

Maybe it’s not just like discovering a new country: maybe Zanele Muholi is showing us a whole new world.

Zanele Muholi is at Tate Modern until May 31, 2021

[devildom-tyrant]

Maybe some valentine HC of the brothers getting a present from MC? What would they really want from them?

Lucifer

He’s someone that doesn’t have much of a gift preference, as long as there’s thought behind it.  He wants it to be selected specifically for him.  He doesn’t want a generic gift.

So, you get Lucifer a decanter for his Demonus shaped like a skull – and a box of poisoned chocolates that are also in the same shape.  You’d heard him mention the need for a new decanter in passing, and it had been a little detail you’d kept in mind.  

“I figured it would go with the rest of the skeletons in your rooms,” you joke, grinning over at him while he chuckles.

“At least I no longer have skeletons in my closet… or attic.”  He stands, moving to the bottle of Demonus.  “Shall we have a drink to commemorate the evening?”

He’s offering you some of his incredibly rare, vintage Demonus?  “It might be wasted on me,” you hedge, tempted as you are.  “I drank with Asmo, but it didn’t really affect me.  Maybe I have a high tolerance?”

His gaze is mirthful.  “Then perhaps you won’t mind trying a drinking contest with me?”

…..

……… He wins.

Mammon

He’d want something personalized; if it can’t just be bought in stores, it’s worth more!  Plus he really wants to know you were thinking about him it’s cooler than a store-bought gift.  

You give him a custom wallet, with “First Man” engraved in the leather.  

“… Ya got me this?  I…”  His voice starts to hitch a little, so he clears his throat and slings an arm around you, pulling you against him for a hug.  “Damn right, I’m first.  Better not forget it!”

He wears his sunglasses during the movie you pick out, but that’s because he doesn’t want you to see him cry.  Periodically, he’ll pull out the wallet, opening and closing it, and just looking at it, even though it has practically no Grimm in it.

You also get him chocolate, but Beel eats most of it while Mammon’s screaming at him about how he’s already got his own and these are his special chocolates!

Levi

He wants something otaku-related.  Ruri-chan figures, the latest game, something TSL limited edition, a doujinshi from his fav artist… You’ve got a huge pool of interests to pick from.

In the end, you stood in line and bought chances to win a limited edition figure of Ruri holding a box of chocolates out with a flustered look on her face.  It looks like she’s confessing her feelings to someone.  You didn’t win it, but you were able to buy it from Mammon (who has crazy luck and didn’t even realize he was entering – again) for double its value.  When you give it to Levi, he’s speechless… and then, his excitement ramps up, and his hands begin to shake.  “I… I can’t… I can’t believe it!!  You ACTUALLY got the limited edition figure?!  I wanted to be there so bad, but it was the same day as the concert, and I felt like I was betraying Ruri-chan, but you– you had my back!”

Levi hugs you tight and spins you around.  It’s rare that you get to see him look so happy.  “You’re the best!  For real!  Like, you must be some sort of angel!”

You also get him bath bombs with figurines from Mononoke Land in them.  When he looks confused, you grin and tell him, “For your bed.”

Yeah, it doesn’t get old teasing him about his bathtub bed. 

Satan

He’s an easy one; you give him a present, and he can tell it’s a book.  It’s exactly what he wanted, and he’s hoping it’s one from the human world.  Maybe he’ll get a glimpse of one of your favorites?  He’s interested to see what kind of book you specifically picked out for him, but when he opens it, he finds a book with lined pages… that are all handwritten.  

You’ve made him a book, some of the pages poems, some of them little stories (with a devilishly handsome blond protagonist), some of them just positive affirmations you feel he needs to hear.  He stares at it for so long that you begin to feel self-conscious, your face heating up.

“I, uh, got you a box of chocolates, too.  Here –”  You move to get the chocolate, but he grabs your wrist, and stares at you with that same intensity, as if trying to figure something out.  

“Why would you go through this much trouble for a gift?”

You swallow, trying to play it off with a lop-sided smile and a half-shrug.  “Because it’s you.”

He pulls you in for what you think is going to be a hug – but it’s actually a deep kiss.  

Asmo

When it comes to Asmo, he wants anything that’s centered on keeping him beautiful -- usually.  But Valentine’s is all about love!  What he really wants is something Valentine’s-specific... but from you.

You get him a giant stuffed dog with a single spot on its eye, holding a heart in its mouth that says “You’ve got a spot in my heart”, and a coupon book for things like “1 free massage” and “1 free cuddle.”  

He loves both of them immediately.  

“Aww, this is so sweet!  I mean, I get things like this all the time from admirers -- my room would be full of roses and chocolate if I kept all of them here! -- but when I get something like this from you...”

His boasting fades, and the tone in his voice becomes more serious.  He’s staring into your eyes, but it isn’t like the times he’s tried to use his power on you.  No, it’s like he’s trying to figure something out.

“... Well, it’s different.  It makes my heart skip a beat, when the others... don’t.”  He shakes his head, hugging the dog, and then moving to wrap his arms around you, pulling you in close.  “You’re special to me, you know.  And...”  His tone turns mischievous, and he pulls back to grab the coupon book.  “I’m using this coupon for a free massage right now!  I have a new lotion I want to try out, and if you want your gift... I’ll give you a massage after that will leave your entire body weak.”  

He winks, but who are you kidding?  You’re already weak just thinking about it.  

Beel

He definitely wants food, and you don’t disappoint.  You enlist Luke’s help to learn how to bake a cake and some chocolates using ingredients from the Celestial Realm.  You have to do it at Purgatory Hall so Beel won’t notice and eat it all before they’re done.  

Beel is touched that you made them for him, though he’s skeptical at first.  After all, your cooking at the retreat wasn’t... edible, even for him.  The icing on your cake is lop-sided, but heart you drew in the middle isn’t bad.

 “.... You made this?”

“I got some help, but yeah.  Try it out.”

“I almost don’t want to ruin it, though.”  His stomach growls.  “Well, almost.”   He cuts off a rather large piece, trying not to destroy the heart, and after one bite... his face lights up.  “This...!  This is really good!  Thank you!”  He pulls you against his chest in a hug, but doesn’t stop eating while his arms are around you.  

He’s absolutely beaming.

Belphie 

Valentine’s Day isn’t super important to Belphie; he hasn’t thought about it in centuries.  However, the moment you hand him a gift bag with a smile, he realizes what kind of gift he wants:

Anything given to him by you.

You’ve gotten him a cow-print, electric heated blanket and a heart-shaped pillow to go with the V-day theme.  His brows raise, and he grins, laughing.  “This is too perfect.  It goes with my usual pillow.”  He immediately plugs the blanket up and turns it on.  “I got you something, too.”

Suddenly, he lies back on his bed and lifts up the corner of his new blanket.  “A nice nap with a warm blanket, just us, no interruptions.”  His smile suddenly shifts to a smirk.  “After all... you got me a blanket that’s big enough for two.  I bet we could even fit Beel in here and make a cuddle sandwich.”

Yeah, you’re game for that.  

[curedeity]

Aquila's Gift

Summary: Yu’s room is full of stuffed animals, brought for him by a man that only cares for his loyalty. 

    The hallways of the Dark Nebula building were always long and empty. Lit by harsh fluorescent lights, they looked so sterile that you couldn’t tell at least 20 people lived here. Tsubasa took great joy in not wiping his feet at the doorway and tracking mud into them. He was sure if Doji was going to fire him for any reason, other than him discovering Tsubasa’s true intentions, it would be for that.

    Especially because Yu had copied him and tracked even more dirt than Tsubasa did into the building.

    It was quite weird, Yu definitely hated Tsubasa, helped along by Tsubasa’s consistent needling, but he seemed to copy his behaviors just as much as he did for Ryuga and Doji.

    Speaking of Yu…

    Tsubasa really wished Doji would stop assigning them missions together, at least with anyone else he wouldn’t feel bad about tricking or spying on them, but Yu was so strange and young, it felt a bit wrong to lie to him. Not that it would change anything right now, or the mission they had just been assigned.

    With a sigh, Tsubasa finally reached Yu’s room, and knocked thrice on it.

    It wasn’t hard to tell what room was Yu’s, despite the fact Tsubasa hadn’t yet been on this floor yet. There was the nameplate with Yu’s name on it, of course, but beyond that Yu had taken the liberty of covering his entire door in stickers. 

    “Who is it--Oh hey, Tsubasa,” Yu answered as he opened the door, looking at Tsubasa with a mix of obvious confusion and probably some distaste. 

    “Doji has a new mission for us, we leave for another tournament in 20 minutes,” Tsubasa informed him. Doji seemed to take some glee in sending Yu and him off together, perhaps he was hoping they’d murder each other one of these days.

    “Mr. Doji is way too uptight about these tournaments, there are never any good bladers, all I want is a good challenge,” Yu complained, as always.

    It was at this moment Tsubasa glanced into Yu’s room, and he couldn’t help but let out a “hmm” of surprise.

    The room was practically overflowing with stuffed animals.

    “Why can’t Battle Bladers just start already, I want to fight already--Hey Tsubasa, what are you looking at?” Yu finally cut off his whining for long enough to note Tsubasa’s surprise. He followed his gaze, and noticeably brightened the minute he realized what Tsubasa had been looking at were the plushies.

    “Do you like my stuffed animals!” Yu practically shouted this as he tugged Tsubasa into the room, picking up the nearest plushie (a fox) and shoving it into Tsubasa’s hands. The fox was very soft, and the inside seemed to be beads. Yu was rocking back and forth on his heels as he smiled up at Tsubasa, picking up a stuffed animal to hold himself.

    “Mr. Doji got them all for me! I get to order them online, and they come in the mail really quickly,” Yu rambled, “these are the first presents I’ve gotten and they’re so cool! Look, they’re all so soft!” Yu shoved another plushie (a cat) into Tsubasa’s already full arms.

    Tsubasa stood there in… What should he say? This. This was not the interaction he was expecting to have when he came to get Yu for the mission. But really, when had any interaction with this kid ever gone the way he expected? Yu seemed to love being chaotic and creating all the problems he could.

    ...And had he said that these were the first presents he’d ever received? That explained quite a lot of Tsubasa’s questions over what a young child was doing in the Dark Nebula, and opened up a whole host of new ones.

    But he wasn’t here to analyze this child, he had a job to do: discovering the true intentions of Doji and what L-Drago could do. 

    “They are all very nice, you really like plushies, huh?” Tsubasa handed the two plushies back to Yu and leaned against the doorway.

    “Yeah! They’re just so soft, and who doesn’t like animals! But Mr. Doji says we can’t get a cat or dog or a lizard in the Dark Nebula, and he’s too busy sending me off to tournaments for me to go to the zoo,” Yu waved a hand in the air as he placed the plushies back in their respective spots. Then he flew out the door, calling back to Tsubasa “Come on, let’s go before the helicopter leaves without us!”

    Tsubasa sighed, and closed the door of the room filled with stuffed animals behind him, following the excited kid to their next tournament that they would sweep. He almost managed to put the thought of all those stuffed animals out of his mind, all those stuffed animals given to Yu by a person who was clearly trying to buy his loyalty.

    It was a week later, at a different tournament, that Tsubasa spotted it. Yu was competing this time, he was hanging back after looking at the roster. No one strong seemed to be competing in this tournament, certainly not Gingka or any of his friends. Yu could handle it by himself.

    Yu could actually handle quite a lot of bladers by himself. No matter what Tsubasa could say about the Dark Nebula, and their other bladers, Yu and Ryuga were both actually good bladers. He would have to be careful if ever made to battle either of them seriously. Yu shouldn’t be that much of a problem, but he wouldn’t put it past the kid to try something unexpected.

    But Ryuga…

    Tsubasa still hadn’t even seen the other blader that much, it would be foolish for him to try to make strategies with so little information, but that didn’t stop him from pondering it as he wandered towards the stadium doors to go get some lunch.

    As he passed the shop, he glanced inside, and paused for a moment.

    The shops at stadiums mostly sold simple things, like some commemorative t-shirts and water bottles. They also sold some more specific bey gear, like angle compasses. Tsubasa had used to love buying the gear at these shops when he was a kid. 

    This shop had something more than usual though. Towards the back, a single shelf stood, overflowing with a collection of stuffed animals.

    Tsubasa reached out his hand and touched them, somehow he had already walked over to them. They were very soft, filled with some sort of soft fiber. They were slightly more realistic than most of the plushies Tsubasa had seen over his life, and he found himself appreciating them, matching each of them to his knowledge of wild animals.

    A lizard, a dog, a frog, and then…

    Tsubasa stared at one of the plushies for possibly a full minute. Then he grabbed it off the shelf and brought it to the front counter.

    Yu won of course. No one in this tournament could really challenge him. Tsubasa waited outside for Yu to finish receiving his prize points and trophy. The helicopter that had been sent to pick them up loomed in the background, a reminder that soon he’d be back at the bleak Dark Nebula base.

    He couldn’t wait for this job to be over and to be able to camp out again.

    Yu skipped out of the building, and made a beeline for Tsubasa. As soon as Yu got close enough for Tsubasa to hear him, he immediately began complaining. “That was soooooooooo boring! I can’t believe we have to wait for all these tourneys to be over for Battle Bladers. I mean, come on, I just want a good fight already! Why don’t-”

    “Hey kid,” Tsubasa interrupted him as Yu stopped right in front of him. Yu must’ve been so surprised that Tsubasa did that, that he actually shut up for a minute. Tsubasa took a minute to appreciate flabbergasting the kid, before he pushed the bag into Yu’s hands.

    “Nice job in the tournament,” he called as he walked over towards the helicopter, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way Yu beamed for the whole ride, a large eagle plushie sitting comfortably in his arms.

[legolaslovely]

One Love

A/N: The long awaited Kili Ones story! (For me anyway, I have had this idea in my head for WEEKS and it’s finally here!) This story is an AU that revolves around all dwarves being paired One to One, which as @dreams-of-wander has taught me, is not canon. Thank you so much to @dreams-of-wander​ , @nerdbirdsworld​​ and @patchworkideas​ for helping me immensely with this story. <3

Pairing: Kili x Human!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,770

Warnings: Post Battle of the Five Armies, Everybody Lives AU, One to One AU (see author’s note above), drinking/alcohol, comfort, love confessions, angst that ends in fluff DUH

Summary: (Y/N) and Kili met during the quest for Erebor. Long after the mountain is reclaimed, they are brought together again and Kili learns some things are not as easy as fate seems to make them. 

This is by far my favorite picture of him look at his EARS <3

Blessed years had passed since Erebor was reclaimed by its rightful king. The realm was painstakingly restored to its former glory and the carnage and destruction forgotten by all who had seen it. Each loss was remembered and celebrated, but none were commemorated like those of Thorin Oakenshield’s company- saviors and warriors of the Lonely Mountain. They were believed to be the most courageous and wise champions in all Arda. However, some nights, they were simple and brash beings who indulged in far too much food, ale, and amusement.

The Grand Hall had often held scores of bodies, but never as much noise as that which came from thirteen dwarves and one rather quiet human. Deep and shrill voices like dragon fire, twisted and flew out the closed doors and down the corridors as one almost unbearable wave of sound. Guards at their post sometimes confused strange guffaws with shrieks of pain, popping their heads into the Hall to check on their King. But all inside were always safe, despite the tall tales that led to arguments with corrections, and imaginary details that led to more bellowing laughter and table slamming.

By the time the sun had set, five fresh casks had been dripped dry by the rosy cheeked companions. Dwalin respectfully drank the share of those missing: one small but hungry hobbit and one very large and thirsty wizard. It was his voice presently booming and slapping the ears of those around him.

“I was the first one. Me! First in the house, waiting hours fer another one of ye bastards to show up!”

“That’s not true, brother,” Balin said. “I was the first one. I remember dear ol’ Bilbo showed me ‘is shelves a cheese-”

“’Twas me!” Dwalin yelled. “It was hours before any a ye arrived.” His hand swung as he spoke, sending his empty mug falling and rolling across the table. 

Kíli stood, reaching for the mug, but (Y/N) pushed him down. She had been sitting next to him, snickering by his side at the crude jokes and untrue details of the many stories that had been shared. She stood, slipping around Kíli’s chair and taking Dwalin’s empty mug.

“Thank ye, lass. Yer too good, too good. I was the first! I swear on me Ma’s beard.”

“Don’t ye swear on my Ma’s beard when yer lyin’!” Balin said, hurrying to swallow his sip of ale. 

(Y/N)’s eyes could have rolled out of her head. The pair were two of the most intelligent dwarves she’d met. However, if either got a lick of ale, this is the argument they’d bring back to life, though all around wished they’d leave it dead in the ground. The worst of it was that only Bilbo had the answer, but the hobbit was hundreds of leagues away in the Shire, safe in his armchair or at his desk with his book. 

That thought warmed (Y/N) more than the ale did, but she continued filling Dwalin’s mug at the cask. She filled another for Balin just in case, not wanting to be the center of yet another teasing quarrel between the brothers. 

Their mother’s beard was still the topic of conversation when she set the mugs down on the table. She sidestepped quickly, missing Balin’s flailing arm, but she wasn’t quick enough to escape Dwalin. 

“(Y/N), do ye know what a ‘One’ is, lass?” he asked, gripping her hand.

“Sort of,” she said.

“Well, me dear,” he said, stumbling to stand. His chair fell to the ground with a crack as he dropped to a knee. “Yer mine.”

A chorus of laughs and slaps sounded but Kíli’s “What?” practically echoed in the hall. 

Dwalin continued. “Yer the one human I haven’t wanted to throttle as soon as ye opened yer mouth!” He patted her hand and gave her a soft shove back to her seat. 

“I’m honored,” she said, taking a long draft from her own mug. She gave Kíli a look with wide eyes rolling, and shrunk into her seat at the new attention she was being paid by the table. “So, who was it that arrived first?” she asked, sending a wink to her side.

“Me!”

“I was!”

Kíli remembered the night in the Shire fairly well. He couldn’t tell anyone who had arrived first or last, or what kind of cheese Bilbo had stuffed in his shelves. However, he could very clearly recall the first time he’d seen the surprise human Gandalf had brought. She was tall and quiet, but not at all nervous of the dwarves who glared at her and spat questions. Peculiarly beautiful. Kíli could paint her exact appearance from memory.  

Though her personality had bloomed in front of him since that night, (Y/N) was still obviously entertained by the dwarves. Kíli watched her hide chuckles behind her mug of ale, rarely taking a sip that would leave her lips shining. She sent him sideways smirks and smiles when the company stumbled across their inside jokes or fondest memories. Equally as often, she turned to Fíli, patting his arm or laughing at his quiet eye rolls and head shakes. 

Then she left him. She flew across the room, quick and steady as an arrow shot from a bow, to save Ori from being flattened by racks of cheap ale.

“Wait, Ori,” she said, “let me do that.” She took the cumbersome, empty cask from him and set it back on the stillage with a grunt.

“I wannanother drink,” he said with a scowl. 

A chuckle escaped her. “We need a new cask first. Sit down and I’ll bring you a mug, hm?”

“Jus’ one more,” he said. His puss was starting to lift, turning to a blush at a woman’s attention. 

She set a hand on his shoulder. “All right.”

The thunk of wood on wood sounded behind them. Kíli had easily replaced the empty cask with a new one. “Go sit, Ori. We’ll bring it to ya.”

Ori turned to (Y/N), chin falling, swearing a silent oath. Then he turned and waddled back to his seat, accepting a hand from Bofur instead of falling and hurdling to the ground. (Y/N) slapped Kíli’s arm as he snickered and screwed the spigot into the cask.

“Should we really give him another?” she asked.

Kíli shrugged. “Dwalin’ll walk him to his chambers later. Let him have his fun.” While her head was turned and he was allowed to look, Kíli admired the curve of her cheek as she smiled, her slim fingers around the mug handle. She’d almost caught him staring. “What do you know about Ones?” he asked.

“A One is like a soulmate, if I’ve eavesdropped correctly,” she said with a wink. She moved Kíli’s distracted hand and slapped the spigot with the heel of her palm, catching the flow of ale with Ori’s mug. “You dwarves only love once and everybody has a ‘One.’ Is that right?”

Kíli hummed.

She leaned against the stillage, hip out with one foot crossed over the other. If she’d learned anything from the dwarves, it was the easy posture she was exhibiting. She was stiff and tall as a board when they’d first met.

“It must be a comfort to know someone is out there especially for you,” she said. “Us humans, we just wander around blind, lucky if we ever run into anyone good.” 

“You don’t believe in Ones?” he asked.

Her face scrunched like she’d been caught rummaging through a farmer’s fields. “I believe you when you say you have a One. But I don’t think I have a soulmate. I guess humans just have to do it the hard way. Meet the right person and let something grow. Takes a long time.”

“You and I have known each other a long time.”

Ori gave out a slurred call for his ale that shattered any hold Kíli may have thought he had on her. He took her hand as she turned, trying to preserve the moment.

“Come take a walk with me,” he said.

She delivered Ori’s drink, waved at Fíli, ignoring his scowl of abandonment, and followed Kíli out of the Grand Hall. By the time she’d closed the heavy doors behind her, the guards were already disappearing around the corner to leave her and Kíli alone in the cool corridor. 

“Sick of the old stories?” she asked.

“No,” he laughed. “They remind me of the night we met.”

She stuck up a hand. “Please, spare me! Tell me any story but that one. Dwalin loves to tell me what you all thought of ‘Gandalf’s human spy.’”

Kíli crossed the corridor to stand next to her- closer- and leaned back on the rough stone. “Not everyone thought that.”

“I know. I remember you were the first one to smile at me that night.”

“Because I knew you were special.”

She breathed out a laugh, a little hum, and Kíli enjoyed the grin that spread across her face. “Is that what you dragged me out here to say?”

“Yes and no.”

She turned to him and he wished he would have drank some ale tonight. Something for the courage to ignore her burning beauty, her quick laugh, the intelligence radiating from her and sharp wit telling her that he was stalling.

“This conversation is long overdue,” he said. “But it’s something rather difficult to just bring up, though apparently, Dwalin has no problem with the subject.”

“Which subject is that?”

“Ones.”

“Oh-”

“You’re mine,” he said. “You’re my One.” He could have broken the news better, he could see that clear in her astonished expression. 

“Me? But that’s... not possible. How do you know?”

He took her hand, encasing it between both of his, treasuring her closeness. “Trust me. I know. I have never felt this kind of attachment, this pull to anyone.”

She smiled, but her head was shaking. No. “What you’re feeling is camaraderie. This closeness between humans and dwarves is not common, so it’s no wonder we all feel differently when we’re together.”

“That’s not it,” he said. “I have been waiting for this feeling my entire life and I’ve found it only in you. I know it’s hard for you to understand-”

“That our creators- Aulë and-and- that they made us for each other?” She slid her hand from his grasp. “How could that be? We come from such different worlds. If Gandalf and I had never met, I wouldn’t have come on the quest and you and I? Our paths would never have crossed! How cruel would the fates be then? Is this some big joke to-to whoever it is who makes these rules?”

His temper- agony and desperation both- rumbled and rolled and he watched her cower at the raging fire behind his eyes. “How could you say that? This is not a joke! You know how important this is. You know exactly what this means to a dwarf, what it means to me!”

“Of course. I didn’t mean it like that-”

“How could you ever think I would joke about something like this? Do you really think me that insensitive?”

“No!” She grabbed at him and he permitted her hold, but she shrank from his shadowed face. “Kíli, I’m sorry. Please, I just- there’s so much of this I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I love you! More than I have ever loved anyone.  Can you tell me that you feel the same way?”

She said nothing.

“I see.” He jerked from her grasp and vanished down the winding corridors.

***

Even as she stood completely alone, she could feel Kíli’s presence beside her- his frantic yet passionate persuasion trying to breach impenetrable fear. He’d left her there in the corridors to listen to his words repeating in her head- how she should have understood, how she made him feel alone. His words, however harsh, were honest, and his gaze so intense, they permeated her temperate thoughts and left them broken like ice shards. She hadn’t managed a sole word when he needed it most. And those she had spoken tore their relationship like precious silk.

She had single handedly sucked the joy from the brightest creature she’d ever known.

The doors of the Grand Hall creaked open, letting a breeze of hearty laughter and ale breath wisp through the corridor. A blond head peeked out and it didn’t take long for Fíli to slide through the doors and then down the wall to sit next to (Y/N). His hand squeezed her knee. 

“You know his temper,” Fíli said. “He’ll return when he’s calm.”

She hummed. The company witnessed all of Kíli’s explosive arguments with his uncle during those long months on the quest of Erebor. He’d defend the group’s human or the kingdom’s heir and that low, smooth voice of his would grow sharp and tortured. But no matter what opinions were thrown and no matter how quickly he stormed off, Kíli would always return with a cool head. (Y/N) often wished the first part could be skipped. 

 “Every ounce of patience in the Durin line was designated to you, it seems.”

He chuckled. “When you meet our mother, you’ll see how true that statement really is.”

She smiled. The movement pushed a tear to slide down her cheek that was immediately wiped away. She’d heard countless stories about Dis. A strong dam to be surrounded by detonating, angry dwarrows all her life. One was born with that kind of strength, it wasn’t something learned. 

“There’s so much I don’t understand,” she said. “The only reason I know barely anything about Ones is because Bofur likes to chat when he drinks. Now Kíli’s off who knows where because I didn’t know how to react. I really hurt him.”

Fíli’s stubby fingers wrapped around hers to stop their mindless wringing. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I did the worst thing I could have ever done. I hurt him, Fíli. You should have seen the way he looked at me before he left.” Words, air, tears- they all stuck in her throat for a moment. She squeezed Fíli’s hand and whispered. “I said something I shouldn’t have. I don’t know how we’ll move on from this.”

“He’ll forgive you.” Fíli ignored her as she shook her head again. “He will. And if anyone deserves Kíli’s forgiveness, it’s you. No one can blame you for feeling shocked.”

“Couldn’t he be wrong? How do you know someone is your One?”

She watched him think. Thick hair, round eyes, wide nose, neat braids. Dwarves weren’t very different from humans, she thought. Or maybe she’d spent so much time with the company that she didn’t notice most of the physical distinctions anymore. Their heart and passion, however, those things never escaped her attention. Especially Kíli’s.

“I haven’t met my One, so I don’t know what it feels like,” Fíli said. “They say it’s like trying to describe the sun’s warmth on a chill day. It’s just something a dwarf inherently knows.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said. She listened for footsteps but she and Fíli were alone in the corridor. “Has Kíli said anything about it?”

Fíli could barely hear her ask the question. “He said it was overwhelming- that you were almost too much to bear. We were starting this journey, leaving home and sprinting straight into a dragon’s mouth. All he focused on until that night was controlling his fear and anxieties, on keeping himself and me safe for Ma. Then he saw you and everything around him and inside him went from raging, stabbing fire to soothing waves of peace. You were his ‘calm and comfort and safety,’ he said. Everything was right when you walked into the room.”

“He said that? When?”

Fíli shifted on the floor. “The night we met in the Shire.”

“He knew immediately? Is that common? Is that a dwarf thing?”

“No,” he grinned. “It’s a Kíli thing.”

They sat knee to knee on the cold floor and Fíli answered all of her questions, starting with her prominent “Couldn’t he have picked someone easier?”

“He doesn’t pick, (Y/N). Ones are created as halves of the other. You were made for each other.”

Fíli found fun in explaining the innermost concepts of Ones, enjoying her wide eyes, embittered sighs, and impatient questions. Kíli was the same way when their mother told them both about her and their father and Fíli silently reveled in that knowledge.

The two close friends bonded impossibly further over their shared interest: Kíli. They both laughed- tension, jitters and tears bouncing off the stone around them and echoing throughout the corridors. She listened eagerly to the particulars of dwarvish traditions and customs, often asking for more details. She eventually let her feelings slip. 

“His One should be a dwarf. He shouldn’t have to explain rituals and customs and soulmates, he should just enjoy them.”

“He would appreciate sharing these things with you, teaching you about them,” Fíli said.

She hummed. “But he deserves something better. Something easier.”

“You speak like you don’t mind your part in this,” Fíli said.

Roaring and table slapping sounded from the Great Hall as if the very proposition was so preposterous. The company was continuing their celebration while its three youngest members debated the rest of their lives. 

She sighed, the breath shaking and Fíli knew any hope of jest was gone. “Fíli, if I’m lucky, I might live another-”

“Don’t.”

She took his hands and squeezed. “I could live another forty years. He will live another hundred and forty. It would leave him alone for so long... It can’t be me.”

Fíli took her face in his hands, catching the streaming tears that poured down her cheeks like silent rain. Thumbs like boats swept them away, but they kept coming. He tried to look at her as if that exact thought hadn’t been plaguing his mind since Kíli told him the truth. “Don’t think of that.”

“It can’t be me.”

“Look at me.” He waited for her to open her eyes- devastated and dripping, but calm. “Kíli would not want two hundred years with someone else. He’d take a single day if he could call you his for those hours. He loves you.”

***

By the time Kíli’s scraping boots sounded in the corridor, all three heads were calm. As Kíli’s slumped shoulders made their way to them, Fíli squeezed (Y/N)’s hand and slid back into the Grand Hall where the raucous never ceased. 

Kíli fell to his knees before (Y/N) could stand. Dark brows hid even darker eyes, things that were usually bright, beautiful and warm. He took her hand and apologized. “I should have never treated you so harshly and it was cruel of me to storm off like that and leave you here alone.”

“No, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know.”

Her gaze fell to her lap. Two large hands were wrapped around hers again as if in their rightful place. “Kíli,” she said. “I know that I hurt you and for that I am truly sorry.”

“(Y/N).” He lifted her chin. Every angled feature had gone soft before her. “There is nothing for you to apologize for.”

She nodded. “I just needed some time to understand what this all means.”

“And I should have given it to you. You can have all the time you need. And if you want to go back to Gondor, continue living there, I understand-”

“No.” She shifted, rising to her knees and inching closer. She held his face. “Kíli, I will not abandon you. I won’t leave you without... a piece of you.” She looped his waving hair behind his ear- big and pointed- and grinned.

“Now is not the time to be making fun of my ears again, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He hummed, a warning. Then his features lifted as thick fingers wrapped around her wrist, bringing her hand into his again. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted us to have a calm, positive, and I hoped even romantic moment and I completely failed.”

“Not completely.” The way he was looking at her, taking her in, couldn’t be classified as anything but romantic. “All that matters is that you told me. But are you sure I’m-”

“You’re it for me, (Y/N). There’s no question.”

She would have dragged her hand away, created space between them, but she could still see the pain her previous distance had caused. “Just tell me, am I taking you away from someone else? Isn’t there another woman- dam- out there who is waiting for you? You’re her One?”

“No,” he said, vigorous head shaking freeing his messy locks. The smallest smile. “No. It doesn’t work that way. Dwarves are paired. Since you’re my One, that means there is no other dwarf for me. Only you.”

Her soft, “Oh,” made him panic.

He inched backwards on his knees. “No, I didn’t mean to- I should have worded that better.” He sighed, ridding himself of his incessant, jittery thoughts. “(Y/N), I know you don’t feel for me as I do for you-”

“That’s not true. Kíli, I love you very much, it’s just-”

His strong fingers strangled her hand. “You do?”

Every bit of her restraint left her with her chuckle. “Of course I do. How could anyone not love you?”

He didn’t give her time to admire the bright smile her confession caused. He immediately brought her into a dwarf’s embrace, resting his forehead against hers, sharing the same air, the same content hums, the same moment in time.

“But Kíli,” she said. He heard the nerves there. “This isn’t going to be easy. You’ll have to teach me so much and-”

“We’ll learn together.” He kissed her- a kiss he could live on forever- and pulled her into his arms right there on the floor. He immensely enjoyed this human way of embracing as well, he thought.

He held her close, arms tightly wrapped, fingers twirling hair, comfortable in the silence until she laughed so loud it startled him.

“What is it?”

“You didn’t hear that?” She asked, turning to him. “They’re still going on about who arrived at Bag End first!”

“I guess I was too distracted,” he said. 

She grinned, took his face in her hands and kissed him. Then they both agreed not to go back into the Grand Hall until one of the pestering brothers left for the night.

“Fíli’s smart enough to save himself.”

***

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[newstfionline]

Monday, September 20, 2021

Biden’s Entire Presidential Agenda Rests on Expansive Spending Bill (NYT) Biden’s entire presidential agenda is riding on the reconciliation bill being crafted in Congress right now. No president has ever packed as much of his agenda, domestic and foreign, into a single piece of legislation as President Biden has with the $3.5 trillion spending plan that Democrats are trying to wrangle through Congress over the next six weeks,” Tankersley writes. “It is almost as if President Franklin D. Roosevelt had stuffed his entire New Deal into one piece of legislation, or if President Lyndon B. Johnson had done the same with his Great Society, instead of pushing through individual components over several years. If he succeeds, Biden’s far-reaching attempt could result in a presidency-defining victory that delivers on a decades-long campaign by Democrats to expand the federal government to combat social problems and spread the gains of a growing economy to workers. If he fails, he could end up with nothing. As Democrats are increasingly seeing, the sheer weight of Mr. Biden’s progressive push could cause it to collapse, leaving the party empty-handed, with the president’s top priorities going unfulfilled. … If Mr. Biden’s party cannot find consensus on those issues and the bill dies, the president will have little immediate recourse to advance almost any of those priorities.

Child care in the US is a ‘broken market,’ Treasury report finds (Yahoo Money) A Treasury Department report this week characterized the U.S. child care system as “unworkable” as Democrats push reform that experts say is an “overdue and critical investment.” The average American family with at least one child under age 5 uses 13% of their income to pay for child care, according to the report, nearly double the 7% that the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services considers affordable. Additionally, less than 20% of the children eligible for the Child Care and Development Fund—a federal assistance program for low-income families—are getting that funding. “Child care is a textbook example of a broken market, and one reason is that when you pay for it, the price does not account for all the positive things it confers on our society,” Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said in a statement on Wednesday. “When we underinvest in child care, we forgo that; we give up a happier, healthier, more prosperous labor force in the future.”

Inspiration4 Astronauts Beam After Return From 3-Day Journey to Orbit (NYT) After three days in orbit, a physician assistant, a community college professor, a data engineer and the billionaire who financed their trip arrived back on Earth, heralding a new era of space travel with a dramatic and successful Saturday evening landing in the Atlantic Ocean. The mission, which is known as Inspiration4, splashed down off the Florida coast at 7:06 p.m. on Saturday. Each step of the return unfolded on schedule, without problems. Within an hour, all four crew members walked out of the spacecraft, one at a time, each beaming with excitement as recovery crews assisted them.

Haitians on Texas border undeterred by US plan to expel them (AP) Haitian migrants seeking to escape poverty, hunger and a feeling of hopelessness in their home country said they will not be deterred by U.S. plans to speedily send them back, as thousands of people remained encamped on the Texas border Saturday after crossing from Mexico. Scores of people waded back and forth across the Rio Grande on Saturday afternoon, re-entering Mexico to purchase water, food and diapers in Ciudad Acuña before returning to the Texas encampment under and near a bridge in the border city of Del Rio. Junior Jean, a 32-year-old man from Haiti, watched as people cautiously carried cases of water or bags of food through the knee-high river water. Jean said he lived on the streets in Chile the past four years, resigned to searching for food in garbage cans. “We are all looking for a better life,” he said.

Three Weeks After Hurricane Ida, Parts of Southeast Louisiana Are Still Dark (NYT) For Tiffany Brown, the drive home from New Orleans begins as usual: She can see the lights on in the city’s central business district and people gathering in bars and restaurants. But as she drives west along Interstate 10, signs of Hurricane Ida’s destruction emerge. Trees with missing limbs fill the swamp on either side of the highway. With each passing mile, more blue tarps appear on rooftops, and more electric poles lay fallen by the road, some snapped in half. By the time Ms. Brown gets to her exit in Destrehan 30 minutes later, the lights illuminating the highway have disappeared, and another night of total darkness has fallen on her suburban subdivision. For Ms. Brown, who works as an office manager at a pediatric clinic, life at work can feel nearly normal. But at home, with no electricity, it is anything but. “I keep hoping every day that I’m going to go home and it’ll be on,” she said. Three weeks have passed since Hurricane Ida knocked down electric wires, poles and transmission towers serving more than one million people in southeast Louisiana. In New Orleans, power was almost entirely restored by Sept. 10, and businesses and schools have reopened. But outside the city, more than 100,000 customers were without lights through Sept. 13. As of Friday evening there were still about 38,000 customers without power, and many people remained displaced from damaged homes.

Favela centennial shows Brazil communities’ endurance (AP) Dozens of children lined up at a community center in Sao Paulo for a slice of creamy, blue cake. None was celebrating a birthday; their poor neighborhood, the favela of Paraisopolis, was commemorating 100 years of existence. “People started coming (to the city) for construction jobs and settled in,” community leader Gilson Rodrigues said. “There was no planning, not even streets. People started growing crops. It was all disorganized. Authorities didn’t do much, so we learned to organize ourselves.” The favela’s centennial, which was marked on Thursday, underscores the permanence of its roots and of other communities like it, even as Brazilians in wealthier parts of town often view them as temporary and precarious. Favelas struggle to shed that stigma as they defy simple definition, not least because they evolved over decades. Paraisopolis is Sao Paulo’s second-biggest favela, home to 43,000 people, according to the most-recent census, in 2010. Recent, unofficial counts put its population around 100,000.

The barbecue king: British royals praise Philip’s deft touch (AP) When Prince Philip died nearly six months ago at 99, the tributes poured in from far and wide, praising him for his supportive role at the side of Queen Elizabeth II over her near 70-year reign. Now, it has emerged that Philip had another crucial role within the royal family. He was the family’s barbecue king—perhaps testament to his Greek heritage. “He adored barbecuing and he turned that into an interesting art form,” his oldest son Prince Charles said in a BBC tribute program that will be broadcast on Wednesday. “And if I ever tried to do it he ... I could never get the fire to light or something ghastly, so (he’d say): ‘Go away!’” In excerpts of ‘Prince Philip: The Royal Family Remembers’ released late Saturday, members of the royal family spoke admiringly of the late Duke of Edinburgh’s barbecuing skills. “Every barbecue that I’ve ever been on, the Duke of Edinburgh has been there cooking,” said Prince William, Philip’s oldest grandson. “He’s definitely a dab hand at the barbecue ... I can safely say there’s never been a case of food poisoning in the family that’s attributed to the Duke of Edinburgh.” The program, which was filmed before and after Philip’s death on April 9, was originally conceived to mark his 100th birthday in June.

Relations between France and the U.S. have sunk to their lowest level in decades. (NYT) The U.S. and Australia went to extraordinary lengths to keep Paris in the dark as they secretly negotiated a plan to build nuclear submarines, scuttling a defense contract worth at least $60 billion. President Emmanuel Macron of France was so enraged that he recalled the country’s ambassadors to both nations. Australia approached the new administration soon after President Biden’s inauguration. The conventionally powered French subs, the Australians feared, would be obsolete by the time they were delivered. The Biden administration, bent on containing China, saw the deal as a way to cement ties with a Pacific ally. But the unlikely winner is Britain, who played an early role in brokering the alliance. For its prime minister, Boris Johnson, who will meet this coming week with Biden at the White House and speak at the U.N., it is his first tangible victory in a campaign to make post-Brexit Britain a player on the global stage.

Hong Kong’s first ‘patriots-only’ election kicks off (Reuters) Fewer than 5,000 Hong Kong people from mostly pro-establishment circles began voting on Sunday for candidates to an election committee, vetted as loyal to Beijing, who will pick the city’s next China-backed leader and some of its legislature. Pro-democracy candidates are nearly absent from Hong Kong’s first election since Beijing overhauled the city’s electoral system to ensure that “only patriots” rule China’s freest city. The election committee will select 40 seats in the revamped Legislative Council in December, and choose a chief executive in March. Changes to the political system are the latest in a string of moves—including a national security law that punishes anything Beijing deems as subversion, secession, terrorism or collusion with foreign forces—that have placed the international financial hub on an authoritarian path. Most prominent democratic activists and politicians are now in jail or have fled abroad.

The Remote-Control Killing Machine (Politico/NYT) For 14 years, Israel wanted to kill Iran’s top nuclear scientist. Then they came up with a way to do it while using a trained sniper who was more than 1,000 miles away—and fired remotely. It was also the debut test of a high-tech, computerized sharpshooter kitted out with artificial intelligence and multiple-camera eyes, operated via satellite and capable of firing 600 rounds a minute. The souped-up, remote-controlled machine gun now joins the combat drone in the arsenal of high-tech weapons for remote targeted killing. But unlike a drone, the robotic machine gun draws no attention in the sky, where a drone could be shot down, and can be situated anywhere, qualities likely to reshape the worlds of security and espionage.

Israeli army arrests last 2 of 6 Palestinian prison escapees (AP) Israeli forces on Sunday arrested the last two of six Palestinian prisoners who escaped a maximum-security Israeli prison two weeks ago, closing an intense, embarrassing episode that exposed deep security flaws in Israel and turned the fugitives into Palestinian heroes. The Israeli military said the two men surrendered in Jenin, their hometown in the occupied West Bank, after they were surrounded at a hideout that had been located with the help of “accurate intelligence.” The prisoners all managed to tunnel out of a maximum-security prison in northern Israel on Sept. 6. The bold escape dominated newscasts for days and sparked heavy criticism of Israel’s prison service. According to various reports, the men dug a hole in the floor of their shared cell undetected over several months and managed to slip past a sleeping prison guard after emerging through a hole outside the facility. Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip have celebrated the escape and held demonstrations in support of the prisoners. Taking part in attacks against the Israeli military or even civilians is a source of pride for many Palestinians, who view it as legitimate resistance to military occupation.

Jaw-dropping moments in WSJ's bombshell Facebook investigation (CNN Business) This week the Wall Street Journal released a series of scathing articles about Facebook, citing leaked internal documents that detail in remarkably frank terms how the company is not only well aware of its platforms’ negative effects on users but also how it has repeatedly failed to address them. Here are some of the more jaw-dropping moments from the Journal’s series. In the Journal’s report on Instagram’s impact on teens, it cites Facebook’s own researchers’ slide deck, stating the app harms mental health. “We make body image issues worse for one in three teen girls,” said one slide from 2019, according to the WSJ. Another reads: “Teens blame Instagram for increases in the rate of anxiety and depression ... This reaction was unprompted and consistent across all groups.” In 2018, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg said a change in Facebook’s algorithm was intended to improve interactions among friends and family and reduce the amount of professionally produced content in their feeds. But according to the documents published by the Journal, staffers warned the change was having the opposite effect: Facebook was becoming an angrier place. A team of data scientists put it bluntly: “Misinformation, toxicity and violent content are inordinately prevalent among reshares,” they said, according to the Journal’s report.

[poohteddybear]

Why Owning a Steiff Teddy Bear Is a Must for a Serious Collector

The Steiff toy employer began in 1877 in Giengen, Germany and made their first smooth endure in 1902. Amazingly this changed into the same yr in which the primary cuddly toy undergo seemed in the USA whilst Rose Michtom made Teddy's Bear. It was nearly as if it changed into windfall that two nations, worlds aside, came up with the identical new concept on the same time. This makes Steiff the oldest organization inside the global to supply bears of this type. The fact that the organisation remains in lifestyles these days, producing finely crafted toy bears attests to the satisfactory in their merchandise. A undergo sporting the Steiff Button trademark has usually been, and stays a valued asset to a group.

Any excellent quality antique filled toy bears (relationship earlier than 1940) are fairly well-known, and really valuable. But the maximum treasured of all are those produced by means of Steiff. Five prized examples are listed right here:

Alonzo, made around 1908, belonged to Princess Xenia, sister of Czar Nicolaus II of Russia. Alonzo followed her when she changed into forced to flee to England on the eve of the Russian Revolution.

Happy, made in 1926, was sold with the aid of Christie's in 1989 for £55 000.

Eliott, a blue stuffed endure, produced in 1908 as a test model, fetched £forty nine 500 in 1993.

Teddy Girl, a small cinnamon endure, made in 1905, become offered at Christie's in 1994 for £one hundred ten 000!

A black mourning undergo, produced in 1912 to commemorate the sinking of the Titanic, was auctioned in 2000 through Christie's for £91 750.

It's no longer most effective the antique Steiffs that are valued in a collection of teddy bears, however. More latest collectibles are made as restrained versions. When fewer than a thousand are made they may be right away extra treasured due to the fact there are extra shoppers than there are prominent bears. These bears are normally now not bought as toys, in order that they remain in mint condition, within the container collectively with any certificates and tags. Any non-public records connected to the undergo provides extra cost - that is called provenance. As time passes these gadgets grow in fee - modern-day teddy undergo is tomorrow's funding.

So how about the restrained edition set, Elefantle and Teddy Bear, produced for the 125th anniversary of Steiff? Only 125 of each have been home made with mohair, silk, gold ivory, diamonds, sapphires and onyx, displayed in an stylish lighted show off. Also covered is an anniversary ebook telling the tale behind the elephant and his undergo partner in addition to a 24 carat gold anniversary medallion. The selling rate (in 2005) was $32 500.

Maureen and Andre are Authors of the ebook A Teddy Bear Sampler which gives an interesting kind of statistics and sports approximately teddy bears.

[botan-shirabuki]

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Waterlogged

Pairing: SLBP Fujibayashi Genya x MC (OC)

Theme: Day 9 - Stranded on a Boat Together

Summary: Genya being the king of diffusing stressful situations vol. 42069

Rating: NC-17/Explicit (for fingering, cuntylingus, and verrrry dirty talk)

Word Count: 5k

Notes: My 3rd entry in @voltage-vixen ‘s Summer of Smut challenge. I know...I know....this is SO late. but a series of consecutive events of life happening left me with barely any time to write, but I HAD to finish this because I love these two so much! I also thought the idea of a fic taking place in an amusement park, especially after the battle event. This one ended up being even longer than the first two so I hope it was worth the wait (if you were waiting...heh)!

Ao3: here

"Why do I have to carry her?"

"You're the one who wanted it so bad."

"Yeah, but you're the one who won her..."

Fuchi pouted and mumbled to herself as she adjusted the giant stuffed animal so that it was on her back and she held the arms crossed over her shoulders. Nothing in her life up to that point could have prepared her to think of the logistics of winning a stuffed animal at an amusement park. Earlier, she and Genya had been walking through a dazzling colorful alleyway full of various games with the prizes lined up against the walls and on the ceilings of each booth. Gen didn't put much thought into how exciting it must have all been for her until she started tugging at his arm while she excitedly squeaked and pointed at a giant stuffed dog that looked like Oboro. Fuchi insisted that they needed to get her, that it was the least they could do to commemorate her since they weren't allowed to bring her to the park themselves. Genya didn't really see the point in spending 500 yen to play, but at the same time, he couldn't help but find her enthusiasm for every single thing she came across wholly endearing. He got it in one easy game of ring toss, but the real prize was the look of joy on her face followed by that look melting into the realization that she would be carrying it for the rest of the night.

Now, they were walking towards the back of the park while Fuchi decided to keep her sulking to herself. Until then, they had gone on every ride they could that day. To Genya's surprise, she was quite the daredevil. Though, considering she had previously been overworking for a week straight, maybe that was her way of letting her hair down. According to the map of KoiLand he kept in his pocket, there were three more rides back there: two flat and one coaster. Unfortunately, the flat rides were kid specific so it looked like they would have to skip those. Genya squinted at the paper, trying to see it beneath the colorful flashing lights of surrounding attractions when Fuchi caught his attention again.

"Hey, Gen, what's that?" she nudged his thigh with her knee. When he looked up, he saw her gesturing towards a group of teenagers walking out of a ride's exit laughing while soaking wet. They walked towards a large booth with the words "DRYING STATION" above the door.

"Huh, what is that?" he drawled, looking back at the map. Apparently, his thumb had been covering this ride while he was looking at it earlier: The Raging River. And judging from the looks of it, it seemed like some sort of ride involving water. He told her what he was thinking and her face instantly lit back up as if she forgot that holding the stuffed dog ever bothered her.

"Can we go on?! I wanna see where the water comes from!" she was practically jogging in place with excitement, like she was ready to sprint towards the entrance with his say so. He couldn't not tease her.

He gave her a slow once over, "Keep bouncing like that and we can go wherever you want, gorgeous."

She stopped then, looking fake angry, though her blush gave her away, "Hey! I was being serious." He couldn't help but crack up at her expression, which made her face scrunch up even more. "What's so funny about--"

Her sentence got cut off by him tweaking her nose with his finger. "And I was being serious too. Come on, let's get a locker for our stuff." He grabbed her by the arm and led her towards the nearby storage STATION while she continued to vibrate with excitement.

....

Fuchi crossed her arms as she waited in the line. She had left her jacket in the locker along with her bag and Oboro-boro-ro-boro, and the queue had some pretty strong fans going even though the worst of the day's summer heat had passed. She found herself running her fingers over her goosebumps and shifting her weight from leg to leg. She could see some of the structure of the ride; it looked to be contained in a large half tube that snaked its way by the left side of the station, but she couldn't hear any train wheels. What were they about to get on?

"Hey," Fuchi jumped at the sound of Genya's voice right close to her ear from behind. His chin was planted on her shoulder. "You good? You look cold."

Before she could even answer, his hands were rubbing her bare arms. "I'm good now, thanks," her voice sounded so mousy just then. She often found herself baffled by how openly affectionate he was with her. Of course, she was proud to be with him, and she was more than willing to be equally affectionate. It just threw her off when he snuck up on her like that. And to top it off, he knew what it did to her when he spoke into her ear like that. She hoped he would get the hint that she didn't want that kind of action when they were waiting in a line with her simple reply.

As if he knew that and chose to ignore it, his hands slowed down until they stopped completely at her shoulders. His thumbs circled near the straps of her top. "You know, I was thinking of a form of payment."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "Payment? Payment for what?"

Mischief and mirth twinkled in his eyes, "For me winning you that prize."

"What, was me carrying her around not enough 'payment?'"

"Mm-mm," he hummed right in her ear, making her clench her arms that were still folded. "That was just common sense."

"How is that common--? What? I'm genuinely confused...and what are you doing now?" she looked down, noticing that his hands had slid off of her arms and were now trailing down the sides of her waist.

"Aah, my hands are so tired," he sighed, holding her close, "Think I need somewhere for them to rest."

Though Fuchi still had her questions, they managed to move with the line just like that. "And what exactly are your hands tired from?"

"Y'know," his hands slipped lower so his fingers were now dipping into the pockets of her jean shorts, "Winning you toys, carrying your food...helping you get out of your seatbelt when you thought it was stuck...."

"That was one time!" she knew he was laughing at the inflection of her voice. "And are you really tired from all of that?"

"Not me, just my hands. And yeah, they're soooo tired," he accentuated the word by squeezing her hips. "Can I rest them here, please?" His voice was so low it was barely above a whisper. "If you want me to, I'll just leave them right here. How's that?"

Fuchi closed her eyes, taking a pause before she answered, "Come on, Gen, play fair..."

"Whaddya mean by that?" he teased, keeping her close as they moved with the line again. "That a yes or no?"

It would have been torture to say no to him anyway, "Of course it's a yes."

They stayed like that until they made it to the ride station, save for Gen putting his hands on her upper arms to warm her up every once in a while.  By the time they could see the actual trains, Fuchi's eyes lit back up with that same childlike excitement. The trains weren't any kind of typical cars; they were giant fake logs with the seats carved out in the middle, and the track was actually submerged in water.

"Oh this is so cool!" she tried her best to see where the track led by leaning over the rails. "Where does it go? What does it do?"

"That's for us to find out," he patted her back, "Come on, we're up next. They're all together."

Once the group in front of them started loading in, Fuchi walked towards the gate to watch them. She was quite shocked to see the four of them sit in a line straddled over one bench in the center of the car.

"Uhh, Gen? Why aren't there separate seats?"

"Just how these kinda rides are built," he shrugged as another group of soaked riders came into the station further back to get off the ride.

One of the ride operators turned to them, "Are you two going alone?"

"Sure are," Genya replied. Fuchi's mouth opened like she wanted to say something before she looked behind her to see another group of four casually watching them. In that moment, she realized they had probably been behind them this whole time and the harrowing reality of being seen hit her like a slap in the face.

"Um...we are?" she looked to Gen, her voice now much quieter.

"You wanna wait for another group of two?"

The automated gate opened before she could answer and her curiosity and excitement won over her modesty, as usual. She waved the concern away with a hand before they walked onto the loading dock. Genya stepped into the boat towards the back and reached out to take Fuchi's hand so she could follow. She initially sat at the front, excited to see everything, but she found herself being pulled back by her hips until she felt denim against her thighs.

"Gen! Hello?!" she exclaimed, looking back over her shoulder to see him smirking at her.

"Don't get all blushy on me, you're supposed to sit towards the back of these." His tone was so casual, but the force he used to pull her against him suggested amorous intent.

"Alright, you're cleared to go. Enjoy your ride!"

With the ride op's word, the log started to move out of the station. They bobbed along with the flow of the water until they reached the conveyor belt lift hill. It was alongside an elaborate prop cabin with a moving water mill among the trees. Fuchi ooh-d with excitement and started to bounce her legs when she noticed that his hands were splayed across her bare thighs. That realization made her vividly aware of how the angle of the lift hill had her back pressed into him.

"Hey...your hands look mighty comfortable there," she spoke over the clicks of the lift.

"They're still tired, remember?" he answered, squeezing her thighs and patting them to assure her that he didn't plan on moving them.

"Hmm, right, they're tired," her eyes narrowed, but she decided she'd play along. She squirmed against him until his hands stilled on her.

"Hey, you tryna start something on the ride? I'm pretty sure that's against the rules," his hands started kneading into her skin. She should have expected as much, but it did make her feel a little frisky.

"I'm not starting anything, I'm only finishing-- Aah!" she squealed when the lift ended and they were dropped off into the flume track with a decent splash that hit both of them. They both took a moment to laugh in surprise, moving half-soaked locks of hair out of their faces as the log made its way down the winding course through the trees. 

The ride itself was quite long. While there hadn't been anything particularly thrilling other than the fun of watching the scenery and the view of the rest of the park lit up against the setting sun, Fuchi still found her heart racing. Genya's hands on her thighs had started to wander around her, one sliding up to hold her waist while the other crept up her leg to hold on to her hip. She felt his lips casually brush the nape of her neck and she knew right then without a doubt that he was making some kind of move.

"Mm, you know there's other people on this ride, right?" she protested, knowing her argument was weak right when it left her mouth. She could feel her heartbeat quicken as his hand on her waist moved to squeeze at her ribcage just beneath the wire of her bra.

"Yup, and they'd all kill to have their hands on you, gorgeous," he murmured in her ear, just like before in the line; except this time, there was no mistaking how turned on he had her.

"You don't know that..." her voice trailed off when she noticed his hand was now between her parted legs, rubbing over the central seam of her shorts. She let out a small whine, "Come on, Gen, why now?"

"There isn't a better time than the present. Especially when I've got you all to myself." As they sailed through a small helix, Genya grazed her earlobe with his teeth, "Say, after we get off of this, why don't I give you something else to ride?" He punctuated his suggestion by groping her hip again.

Before she could answer him, apart from a notably enthusiastic moan, a passing seemingly innocent waterfall suddenly blasted them with a spray of water, even stronger than the first. Fuchi shrieked in surprise, but Genya didn't miss a beat.

"Heyy, see? You're already wet now," he teased her again, now licking at the droplets of water that trailed down the column of her neck. "So whaddya say, hm?"

Fuchi pushed her wet hair out of her face and started to rock back into him, "Honestly, keep that up and you can have whatever you want."

"Whatever I want..." he growled, confirming her words before planting shameless open-mouth kisses beneath her ear. She responded by reaching back to hold his head there, her fingers tangling into his darkened locks. His hands both held her hips against him as she rocked them between him and the seat, seeking any kind of relief from the teasing arousal building up inside her. The track doubled down into a long, dark tunnel. The two small pops of airtime followed by a dark tunnel only further turned up the heat. One of Genya's hands shamelessly grabbed one of her breasts, groping it through her top. In response, Fuchi turned her head towards him to capture his mouth in a kiss. While the angle was a little awkward, their tongues brushed together to confirm what they intended to do once the ride was done. Her free hand reached back to grip his thigh in return and her hips continued their search for any kind of friction as their faces became visible again once they neared the end of the tunnel.

Fuchi smiled at him, her eyes hazy in the dim light, "I never thought I'd be so excited to get off one of these things."

"The feeling's mutual, gorgeous." The look in his eyes made her swoon. He looked at her like she was his whole universe, but at the same time, he was clearly sizing her up like he was thinking about how exactly he wanted her later. She turned her head back forward as he started to pepper her neck and shoulder with kisses again, when she realized where they were.

The log had come to a stop right close to the exit of the tunnel which led to the lift hill for the final drop. There was a section of water that seemed like it was to push the log up onto the lift, but they had stopped a few meters short of it. They waited there for a few minutes, still kissing and caressing until Fuchi finally spoke up.

"Hey, how long have we been sitting here?"

His lips left her neck with a slight pop, "What's that?"

"I swear we've been sitting here for awhile now."

Looking ahead for himself, Genya noticed that indeed, they weren't going anywhere even despite the water flowing around them. On top of that, the lift hill wasn't moving at all either. He looked behind them and saw a tiny blip of another log outside the other end of the tunnel, which didn't seem to move any closer to them. "Looks like everything's stopped."

"Attention riders," an awkwardly uncertain voice rang from a nearby loudspeaker, "The ride has been stopped, but please remain seated until further instructions are given.

Fuchi's mouth dropped open in shock. "What? Come on!" She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Of course this would happen to us right now."

"Well damn," Genya sighed as she sat up to keep ranting. He felt noticeably more cold and wet once she scooted off of him.

"Yeah damn! We were so close to the end, I know it!" She got up on her knees at the front of the vehicle and tried to look up to see what was in the lift hill. There was one group of riders almost at the top from the looks of it.

"Heh, maybe that's not so bad," he drawled behind her, a teasing nature in his voice.

She turned back to narrow her eyes at him. "Why the sudden switch? You just said you couldn't wait to get off of this."

"I did," he said, calm as ever as he scooted up so he was directly behind her again. "But look on the bright side, gorgeous. I already have you all alone right now."

"Oh?" her voice dropped as she felt his hands gliding up her legs again. 

"Oh yeah," his voice was gravelly by the time he reached the fraying material of her shorts. "In fact, I think you ought to take these off. I know how much you don't like wearing wet clothes."

"You're joking," Fuchi retorted, but her voice sounded just as heady as his.

"Fuchi when have I ever joked with you?" the grin on his face betrayed him as he gripped the cusps of her ass cheeks, pulling them even further out of the cutoffs.

A giggle bubbled out from her mouth. "I think that right there counts."

He answered with a small chuckle of his own before he hooked his fingers in her belt loops. "May I?"

She readjusted her knees on the seat, "Only if you say please."

With the belt loops, he pulled her hips closer to him, "Please, Fuchi? Pretty please?" he groaned, nuzzling his cheek into the damp denim before planting a kiss against her skin. "Please let me taste it."

She already had them unbuttoned before he finished. "Damn. Well since you asked so nicely," she helped him pull them down over her hips. "You sounded a little desperate though, not gonna lie."

"There's no shame in begging for some-- Goddamn, that sight never gets old," Genya breathed once her shorts dropped to her knees. She giggled as he gathered the back of her panties and tugged them gently upward until he could see the outline of her lips in the dim light. "Hmm, just as I figured. You're soaked all the way through," he noted, rubbing her clit through the thin cotton until he heard her muffling a moan behind her hand. "No need to be shy y'know," he chided her, abruptly slapping her ass so she would gasp aloud.

"Hey!" She hissed, hitting his shoulder with her sneaker. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're in a tunnel. That's gonna echo!"

"Damn, what's a guy gotta do to get you to relax?" Genya mumbled, still holding her in place.

"Relax? We're doing this while stuck on a-- fuck!" Fuchi gasped again when he pulled her panties aside and sucked her clit into his mouth. He worked her expertly with his tongue until her mouth was hanging open.

"I won't fuck you unless you relax," he purred once he pulled away from her so he could pull her panties down to pool at her knees along with her shorts. "When you get all uppity, you start closing up on me, y'know." He started rubbing her again with one hand while the other spread her lips open so he could view the progression of her arousal. "And you're already so damn tight to begin with...makes it an impossible fit."

Fuchi felt her face heating up at his dirty talk, "You're gonna fuck me on here?" She had tried her best to retaliate, but her voice was so breathy she gave up on it.

He was too busy licking at her all up and down to initially answer. "Probably, if they leave us here long enough," he said as he pulled away again to look at her now glistening folds. "Nothin' in this world could keep me from this pussy for that long." He dipped his tongue into her entrance and moaned at the taste before sucking her back into his mouth until he heard her audibly panting, still trying to wrangle her sounds of pleasure in her throat.

"C'mon, gorgeous, l can barely hear you over all this water," he teased her as he slipped one finger into her. "Really wanna hear how me fucking you on my fingers makes you feel, babe..."

"Hahh...oh...it feels good..." she managed to whimper, looking back to see his eyes drinking up all of her form as his digit pumped in and out of her. "Add another one?"

She felt him leaving her and watched him lick his index finger before generously wetting the middle as well. "No problem," he smirked before slowly sinking the two fingers in together. He fucked her like that for a good moment, until she started rocking back and forth in sync with him. "Attagirl, that's more like it. See? I can feel you opening up around me..." He playfully bit her on the right ass cheek while he started to pump deeper. 

"Yes, Gen....yesssss it feels so good..." she was slowly getting braver with her vocals. Either that, or the way he curved his fingers just how she liked made her forget to keep quiet. "Yes! Ahh, add another finger!"

"Say please." His hand in her froze; his voice was suddenly serious and steely, with a sharp edge like a blade.

"Aaah, fuck off!" she whined once he stopped moving.

"Not so fun when the tables turn on ya, huh?" Genya smirked before spanking her harshly on both cheeks, "Now say please like you mean it."

Fuchi made meaningful eye contact with him, "Gen, please put another finger inside of me," she pleaded, trying to fuck herself slowly, tantalizingly, on his still fingers. "How else am I supposed to prepare myself for your massive dick?"

"Ooh, she took the logical route," he chuckled before giving her the satisfaction of his ring finger sliding in. "You're still a brat though."

"I did what you asked!" she cried out in the middle of a long-winded moan. She felt him stand up behind her and smack her ass one last time before he was pressed all the way up against her back. A solid mass of body heat beneath damp clothes punctuated by his dick straining against her ass through his pants.

"All that talking again. Just hush up and let me make you cum, 'kay?" He was back in her ear, sending a pleasant shiver through her when he gently blew a breeze on her wet neck. "You're so fucking sexy just like this. I really could just fuck you right in here." 

"Oh yeah?" she raised an eyebrow before spitting on her fingers so she could properly touch herself long with him. "Do it then...fuck me..." Her voice had that edge to it that she often got when she knew she was close to cumming. The sounds of their hands working had begun to compete with the sound of the water around them.

"I dunno..." His voice grew grittier as his fingers worked into her faster, "where would I be able to cum?"

"I'd take it! Fuck! You know I'd take it all!" she panted, her hand doing its best to keep up with the pace of his.

"Mmm, I know you would. Just wanted to hear you say it. Because I know how crazy thinking about that makes you." His free hand let go of her hip to plunge down into the front of her top, grabbing at her bare tit and rolling the nipple between his fingers. "Come on, gorgeous, I wanna hear you cum. You're so close, let me hear how bad you want it..."

"Gen! I want it I want it I want it....ahh!" her orgasm was much closer than she realized. It came to her quickly, making her jump slightly and lean over the front of the log to seek purchase in the grooves of the fake bark. She surprised herself with how loud she cried out at the end. She let him fuck her through it until his fingers left her, rubbing slick over her clit until she was shaking again.

"That's it, babe...Fuck, you got so tight around my fingers just then," Genya groaned before he enveloped the aforementioned fingers in mouth. Fuchi watched him suck his fingers clean until he dropped back into the seat, taking his hand from her shirt along with him. He wrapped his arm around her hips and crashed his face into the swell of her ass cheek so he could kiss and suckle at it until he left a nice dark mark. All while he used his opposing hand to begin unbuttoning his pants and palming at his erection. "Tell me where you want this dick," He murmured into her skin, though she managed to hear it.

"I want that beautiful dick right here and right now on this boat," she said earnestly, still raring to go after her orgasm.

Genya chuckled, peppering her hickey with kisses, "Not necessarily what I was asking but I love that energy."

Fuchi tilted her head and ran her hand through his hair to push his head back up off of her, catching his full attention. "Well then where do you want it?" she asked, taking her hand out of his hair to casually pat both of her holes. Gen stared at her with his eyebrows raised in shocked silence. The pause broke when Fuchi broke out in laughter, which made him laugh again, in turn. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly they could flip the script on each other.

"Tease," he laughed, standing back up to kiss her on her shoulder. She caught him by the chin and kissed him on the lips, holding him there until she felt something hot, hard, slick, and all too familiar rubbing against her sex. "I think I know what I want," he breathed against her lips. She bit his lower lip, urging him on. He had just lined up with her when they heard from the speakers above.

"Attention riders, good news! The ride is totally fine and ready to go. There had been a loose article detected by the ride's censors and it has been fished out and now the ride is cleared. We do apologize for the inconvenience and are offering free meal vouchers after the ride is done. Thank you all for waiting, the ride will start back up in a few minutes."

"Come on," Genya muttered, looking up at the speaker. "Right when we were gonna--"

"What a MOTHERFUCKER!" Fuchi slammed her hands against the vehicle. "First you make us stop here, then once we're about to get serious, it's time to go again? This ride hates me, bro, I swear!"

Her bout of rage softened the sting of being interrupted, bringing a smile to his face. He couldn't help but tease her again, "Thought this was what you wanted in the first place?"

Fuchi stammered, so frustrated, her words clogged in her mouth. "Maybe if they had waited like, five more minutes. Actually, you know what? Get back here, let's do it while we have a chance."

"'m afraid I'll have to turn that offer down," he shrugged, having just finished fitting his still raging boner back into his pants. "You and I both know there's no stopping once we get started."

"True..." she deflated a little, letting him pull her underwear and shorts back on for her before buttoning them up herself and sitting back down properly in the seat. "I'm still mad though. Fuming, even. So much so that I just might have to take it out on you."

"I'm looking forward to it, gorgeous," he said, pulling her back by her waist so she was snug against him again. He happened to smack her thighs in perfect timing with the hiss of the brakes letting them free and propelling them out of the tunnel and onto the lift hill. "And if we get stuck again, I'm fucking you right here!" he proclaimed over the loud clacking of the chain lift.

The actual final drop of the ride ended up being pretty anticlimactic, though they did get thoroughly soaked thanks to a giant splashdown at the end of it. They were still laughing and pushing dripping wet locks out of their faces as they got off the ride and left the station. They were just outside the nearby gift shop when Fuchi turned around.

"Maybe we should dry off and go get-- Oh, hello..." she was sidetracked by the sight of Genya, his hair and clothes still drenched. The collar of his shirt was low enough that she could see nearby lights glistening on his wet skin. The material of it was thin enough that it clung flawlessly to each ripple of muscle on his torso. He flexed his chest when her hand instinctively ran across his diamond hard nipples that poked through.

"I could have sworn you said you were angry bout something earlier," his voice was low and full of promise.

"I think I just remembered what it was. Now I'm mad again," she said, completely hypnotized by the blue and pink lights dancing across the smooth planes of his dripping wet pecs. "Maybe help me express my anger once we get back to the car?"

"There's actually a quiet little construction area behind the ride. If you're mad enough for that."

"I am," she nodded, holding her hand out for him to take so he could lead her there. "And good on it for being quiet. I'm pretty aggy, don't want anyone else seeing that."

Genya smirked as he led the way. "I know you don't."