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brw · 4 years

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rating random outfits from the vision because i am very bored

outfit one - classic look

[image id: two cropped panels of the vision from marvel comics. they are both wearing the same outfit, of a green bodysuit that covers every part of their body aside from the front of their face. with it, they wear yellow gloves, yellow boots and a knee-length cape which has a large flared collar. their torso is covered by yellow fabric which wraps around them like a corset. it ends at the top of their thighs. in the first image, they are faced to the left, with one leg raised and their cape floating around their shoulders. in the second image, they have she-hulk, thor & monica rambeau as captain marvel grouped behind them. they are facing forwards and gesturing towards the viewer with their hand. end id/]

- cape goes woosh

- literally the only thing showing is their face everything else is covered

- the collar is very dramatic and gay which i appreciate

- kinda wearing a corset thing? which is cool

- idk what's up with the diamond thing between their tits :/

- colour combo is atrocious but that's a staple of their style it seems lmao

- very out there, very dramatic

- you could probably wear something similar to a pride parade tbh just change the colours and you're good to go

- i like the gloves they look like the yellow ones you use to wash dishes in the sink with the scrubber thingy

final score - 7/10 bonus points for nostalgia & cape, its a very nice very classic look but also very modest :/ show some skin pls ur wife is basically wearing a swimsuit with gloves show a little solidarity :/

outfit two - boob window

[image id: a cropped comic cover of the vision from marvel comics. they are reaching upwards with one arm extended in an attempt to escape several grey hands reaching up to their hip trying to drag them down. their costume is one piece broken into three sections. the bottom half is green and goes slightly above their hips creating a large v-shape. the middle half is yellow and v-shaped as well. the top part reaches to their shoulders and the bottom part is to the middle of their chest, and extends all the way to their fingers. the base of the v is also the bottom of a diamond cut out revealing some of their skin in the pectoral area. the top of the diamond leads to the third and final part of the costume which is the same shade of green as the bottom. This part is a large collar, a head covering that wraps around all around their head but leaves the face uncovered, as well as a cape that is shredded at the bottom. end id/]

- very similar outfit with inverted colours and instead of adding a diamond they cut one out :)

- another wooshy cape :)

- still has their face covered all around except for the front tho :( like idk wouldn't that annoy you? what if it gets too tight or you get hot?

- i have no idea how their cape works with the diamond cleavage window thingy like?? did they just use superglue? please explain

- gloves are gone 😔

- and no more boots 😔😔😔

- corset gone why did they remove all the sexy parts the tiddy does not compensate 😔😔😔😔😔

final score - 3/10 it's basically just an inverted version of the last one except they took the Cool Sexy Bits away which makes everything boring :/ bonus points for the boob window thing though, shows the beginning of their Bimboification :)

outfit three - detective

[image id: a cropped comic cover of the vision from marvel comics. they are standing with one leg resting on something that is not in view. they are partially shadowed, and wear an intense, thoughtful expression. there is a cigarette hanging out of the side of their mouth. they look similar to a 1940s film noir character. they are wearing a white shirt that appears to be a button up, though the thickness of their tie that reaches down to their trousers obstructs any buttons. their sleeves are rolled up to around their elbows. their tie is somewhat loosened around their neck, and is white with black stripes in varying thickness. they wear a pair of thick white suspenders that connect to their trousers, which seem to be grey or a dull brown. they have one of their hands in their trouser pocket. under the same arm is a gun, though this is hard to make out in the darkness. they are also wearing a broad-rimmed fedora, which casts half their face in shadow with only their pupilless bright yellow eyes showing through. end id/]

- this ABSOLUTELY fucks

- unirionically sexy

- noir detective look very nice very cash money

- the loosened tie really just puts the whole thing together

- their face is free! no more awkward green pieces of plastic or whatever!

- calls pretty people "dames" for sure

- rolled up sleeves make me feel like a repressed victorian girl who's just begun to experiment with the Devil's Doorbell™

- smoking is bad for ur health but jesus if it isn't a vibe

- hat worn by reddit "nice guys" :/

final score - 9/10 this really is one hell of a look, very 1920s it absolutely slaps the suspenders are everything tbh if they were in a movie they'd probably be played by harrison ford idk why. anyway this ABSOLUTELY fucks and is one of my faves and is criminally underrated 🤗

outfit four - suit

[image id: two cropped panels of the vision from marvel comics. in both panels, they are wearing the same simple two-piece black suit, with a white shirt underneath their jacket. there are no buttons or pockets on their jacket, and everything seems to be perfectly ironed. their tie is long and thin, and is tight around their neck. their shoes are nondescript and black. in the first panel, vision is to the side, and is floating in the air. in the second panel, vision is standing and is facing the viewer, with their face slightly shadowed and their fists clenched at their sides. end id/]

- simple, cute, chic

- the thinness of the tie is a big change from the last one

- classic suit style, the most casual of formal wear

- office worker kind of thing but like. a FANCY office

- nondescript; no personality in it whatsoever :/

- makes them look like a conservative 😔

final score - 4/10 it's kinda boring tbh they look cute but :/ lame. shows them trying too hard to conform to humanity's standards and it is Not A Vibe. there's no Sauce & also appears in something written by t*m k*ng so the association is immediately off

outfit five - ultimates aka No Clothes Titty Out

[image id: a comic cover of the vision from marvel comics. this one is from the ultimates/1610-verse. this vision is more female-presenting then their 616 counterpart. they are not wearing any clothes. their body is golden and reflective and metallic. their body is comprised of different plates of metal, which are symmetric. just before their elbow, there is a gap in each arm between the metal plates so you can see the wires running through their arms underneath. there is a red diamond shape, still made of metal, in the area where a belly button would be on a human being. they have breasts that do not have any nipples, but have a large circle plating where the nipple would normally be. much like their 616 version they are bald with a yellow diamond in their forehead. their expression is difficult to read but they appear to be smiling slightly. their arms are raised around their head, not touching their skull but close to it. they are strutting towards the viewer with one hip jutted to the side. metal wires surround them, with none of them fully touching them aside from a thick one seemingly connected to the back of their neck. end id/]

- pussy out

- no clothes this bitch doesn't need them (but they do need titties for some reason??? bro????)

- red diamond thing to cover up the bellybutton? girl what are you hiding

- Gold And Shiny a nice change from our regularly scheduled red skin

- emulating aunt/sister/mother/whatever the fuck jocasta which is nice, it's about time vision got someone other then Fashion Disaster Wonder Man to help them out. i guess nudity is better then combining green and yellow all together with red skin jjshsheheh

- sexualised :/

- genuinely kinda hot tho i think i have succumbed to the Robot Tiddies 😔

- no idea how the physics of their hip/ass jutting out is supposed to work it looks like they dislocated something

final score - 6/10 it's cool but also why did u sexualised the android like i. also they are a robot and not a synthezoid which :( why. but u know i appreciate the pussy out kinda thing and ultimates verse vision dated sam wilson so they have good taste. points knocked off for being from the ultimates verse which is Bad™ imo

outfit six - This Fucking Thing What Is This I Hate It So Much

[image id: a cropped panel of the vision from marvel comics. they are facing the viewer with an angry expression. their fists are tightly clenched and are raised slightly. around their wrists are thick yellow spiked bracelets. their arms are uncovered. their shoulders are covered by yellow spiked shoulderpads. they are wearing a green bodysuit with a bright yellow collar around their neck and a plunged neckline that goes all the way down their chest and torso until it is obstructed by yellow underwear, which is held up by a very thick yellow ring, which is also covered in spikes. their green bodysuit continues all the way down their legs until their boots, which are go up half-way around their calves and are folded over. they have a yellow diamond stuck in the middle of their chest. they are also wearing a green helmet that is green and corinthian (greek) in style. it is also spiked. the spikes at either side of the faceplate are small and yellow. the one at the top of the helmet is the same shade of green as the helmet itself. end id/]

- why

- it's. it's so ugly

- what's with the fucking spikes

- the boots are horrendous

- helmet looks they bought it at a museum for £15 and its made out of cheap shitty poorly made and badly painted plastic

- why did they glue a yellow diamond to their chest what is the fucking point

- porcupine energy

- the shoulder pads why the fucking shoulder pads disco isn't coming back just accept it

- spike belt underwear????? why??????????? looks like they made one of those chokers huge and called it a day

- it's just. it's just so ugly. why would you think this was a good idea who is responsible

final score - 0/10 i do not want to see it

#brieuc.txt #the vision #clothing rating #comics #if i did the image id wrong please tell me i have never done them before hbsjshsjja #vision #ch: far superior to flesh and blood #long post

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florbelles · 4 years

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❄️🔪🍂 for Lyra! Had to go ahead and get the sad one out of the way first, because I've come to accept that it is simply part of the Lyra experience whenever I ask these things. (The date is June 17, 2020 and I still have not recovered from "yes, darling, I know he's dead, do you think that makes me love him less?")

thank you lovely 💕 when i said i’d answer this in five to six business days i was fully joking but i’m pretty sure it has now in fact been five to six business days. embarrassing

❄️ What makes your OC sad, so sad that they can’t help but cry all day? How do they cheer themself up? Does their sadness upset any of their loved ones too?

we’re gonna subvert expectations, no dead husbands shall appear in this answer! 💕

lyra would tell you it's cheap whiskey and gas station sushi and hope county street style, but honestly, she just desperately wants to be liked and loved and accepted, so rejection in any form -- from anyone, even those sinners and nonbelievers, even her sworn enemies -- wounds her. (she’s really out here at 3am like john? john are you up? because i don't think hurk sr likes me, he was extremely rude today while i was threatening him in his home)

(the rest is going under a cut because tolstoy has nothing on me. tw for references to lyra typical self-destructive behavior, drug, sex, alcohol, serial murder mentions)

having said that, it doesn't normally affect her -- she doesn't care or think enough of most people for it to have a lasting impact, and it just increases animosity and disdain where it already existed. when it is someone she cares about, though, or comes from someone who’s meant to care about her, it's emotionally devastating.

the most extreme instance came in the form of her parents disinheriting her when she was 16 years old. it was a formality more than anything else -- she was nearly 17, she’d run off the year before and cut off all contact -- and in many ways she’d expected or even attempted to deliberately provoke it, since it would force them to acknowledge what she’d always known, that they didn't see, know, or care about her. it was impossible for them to love her; her father was a narcissist who prized her insofar as he could project onto her as a version of himself, and her mother was so far gone on designer drugs she was apathetic to nearly everything else, her unwanted trophy daughter most of all.

still, receiving confirmation in the form of a notice that caught up to her while she was crashing at one of her favored ex girlfriends' family home -- that they went to that effort just to ensure she knew they no longer recognized her as their daughter -- gutted her. later she’d say that it was what she’d wanted, that they were already dead to her, and thank fucking christ she wasn't a member of that sick miserable family any longer. in actuality, she locked herself in the guest bedroom, curled into herself on the floor, and cried for three days straight.

and then she stopped.

she doesn't get cheered up, honestly, she just has to go through straight through it. if there's an action she can take or vengeance she can exact somehow, she’s eventually able to drag herself out of the comatose state she goes into when she’s grieving; lyra feels everything very deeply, so she’s physically crippled by emotional pain in a way that she never is by external injuries. (break her leg and she’ll drag it behind her, but if her heart’s broken, she won't walk for a week.) because of that, she absolutely tries to fight emotional pain with physical pain -- she doesn't self-harm in a direct way, but she does seek out risky or destructive behaviors (trysts in back alleys with strangers, binge drinking, drug use, getting in fights, reckless driving) until she finds somewhere else to channel that energy. god help anyone who's in her way when she does.

🔪 Has your OC ever killed someone? Ever had to defend themselves against violence? How did this make them feel? Or, alternatively, has your OC ever attacked someone? Seen someone die?

no, lyra has never killed anyone in her life, why???

she killed seven men before she came to hope county. the first was a known predator at the strip club where she worked when she was 18 -- she propositioned him and then stuck a knife in his throat.

she fully believed that she was acting in defense in all seven instances, albeit not necessarily her own. each of the men she killed were especially dangerous or vile predators/abusers/otherwise corrupt and exploitative who were considered untouchable -- to the law, maybe, but not to her. (she never killed the relatively harmless philanderers who made up most of her targets; she just seduced, robbed and humiliated them).

her last kill before she flees to montana -- the reason she flees to montana, in fact -- is the man in idaho, and it’s a huge fucking mistake, one that almost gets her caught. it’s messy and impulsive and she does it because she’s shaken up and triggered af from her recent vegas trip. she’s fully spiraling. like this can't be it, this can't be all there is, this can't be all i am, this can't be all that's left for me, and part of her Wants to get caught on a subliminal level; some part of her Wants to die just to have an end. she’s tired. she’s jaded. she was at that gas station where she found him in the first place buying two bottles of tequila, but then she could just Feel the way he watched her and kind of hovered over her and she just. left the bottles on the counter and followed him out the door and stalked him for deadass fifty miles until he finally pulled off at a truck stop.

that and her first kill mirror each other in that they weren't calculated and she did it in a Rage. she was purely driven by anger and hatred and adrenaline, she was shaking, her body just completely Flooded itself and so honestly? she’s a little hysterical about it -- both times she started to sob at first and then she just. laughed, she couldn't stop laughing, and that’s the only time she’s truly afraid of herself. usually she doesn't feel anything but relief and vindication when she kills; she’s doing it for a reason and she believes she’s justified so she doesn't feel any haunting guilt. she’s like this is what i am, this is what i can do, this is how i can be good even though everyone has always told me i was born bad -- maybe i was but maybe i can use that, maybe i can do what others can't

obviously in the holy war of 2018 she kills Hundreds of people, both heretics and defecting (or potentially defecting) peggies. she doesn't feel remorse about any of that tbh, she never will. she was protecting her family, it's not a question to her, it's not something she has to think about

🍂 What are their opinions on the different seasons? Which one do they hate and which one do they love and why?

lyra loves the summer best. she always has. as a girl, summers were when she was home and could at least pretend her family wanted her, and if nothing else, she could go run free and become a menace on the island. she first ran away in the summer, she found her home in hope county in the summer, she fell in love in the summer.

(also homegirl's wardrobe is like. entirely sheer dresses with high slits and bare arms and plunging necklines she floats through life in silk and tulle and lace and strappy stilettos and she’s happiest in the sun out lying in a meadow or wading through the river or leaning out the side of her car with the windows and/or top down do you really think this bitch thrives in the colder months)

she’s a daughter of spring, she was born mid-march, and she does love it -- she’s a flower hoe, she likes watching the world come back to life and the smell of blossoms in the breeze and the crisp air in the mornings

same with fall, she loves her bonfires and hot coffee and her furs and her cider. she got married in the fall, the best months of her life were in the fall. she lost her heart in the fall. she dies in the fall.

winter can go fuck itself

i jest she thinks the snow is pretty aesthetically and she likes holiday events & attire & traditions and mulled wine and chestnut praline lattes and her furs are lovely and expensive and she might as well break them out, but the cold is Not her friend and neither is the snow. like. does a bitch look like she shovels. do you think she owns snow boots, do you think she owns thermal clothing, no she does Not so overall winter gets like a 2/10

#answered #risenlucifer #oc: lyra fairbanks

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years

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Quick Thoughts on TRH Book 1 Chapter 4

• Hello guys! I’m trying to finish this early because I’m shifting house (not too far from where I’m already living, and closer to kiddo’s nursery! 😁). Fingers crossed I can finish it prior to us shifting.

• Before I begin, I feel I must apologize for neglecting to place a trigger warning for discussing infertility, considering I posted screenshots of Hana’s scene referencing that last chapter and spoke at length about it. The people who have discussed it on my posts have been unfailingly kind and sensitive in their approach to speaking about it, and I failed to display the same sensitivity. I will make sure I don’t repeat that mistake in the future.

Content Warning: The end of this QT will feature a discussion on last week’s Hana scene in the doctor’s office, so TW for discussions on infertility.

• Screenshot Credits:

@pixieferry for Hana + the Abhirio YouTube channel

@thefirstcourtesan + the BizzysChoices YouTube channel for Drake

@boneandfur + Abhirio YouTube channel for Maxwell

• I’m also halfway through a QT for Book 1 Chapter 5. Thought I’d revisit the original series while I was at it. What do you guys think?? If you’re interested do mention if you want to be tagged! You can check out my QTs for the first four chapters from my Masterlist, linked on my bio 😀

• Short chapter, this. I’m pretty sure all the deep digging into history etc will happen idk in Texas. Coz Texas is where Drake’s maternal home is and this entire series - TRR Book 2 onwards - has just been a massive Drake’s-ass-kissing exercise for the writers, let’s be honest. But at least right now, we will get a feel of what the rivals who want to corner us into an alliance look like, sound like, and want.

• Title: Courting Crowns

Does this chapter alone need an alternative title? Does it really?? You might as well rename the entire series no, since just one LI seems to matter. Call it The Grumpy Commoner’s Pub Trail instead (@callmetippytumbles came up with this phrase in an ask on Lily Spencer once).

• I know I sound bitter but how else do you expect me to sound when the writers are THIS blatant about their favouritism. And tbh they’ve been doing that Book 2 onwards.

• So the chapter begins where we left off - the MC meets up with all the LIs in the solarium. They confirm that the people responsible were the paparazzi, and the angle they’re trying to spin is that the Queen of Cordonia/Duchess of Valtoria is an irresponsible woman who is somehow magically pregnant (even in a Hana playthrough!) AND being careless. Thank you Cordonian paps, I’m sure you know my body better than I do.

• Madeleine speaks of doing “damage control” while Bertrand “gallavants away” to Texas as if we were never busy doing damage control for her during the Unity Tour.

• LMAO @ all the responses to “I’ll show them how serious I am about producing an heir”. Especially the Maxwell MC 😅

(Screenshots: @pixieferry for Hana, @boneandfur for Maxwell and BizzysChoices YouTube channel for Drake)

• Liam we know that shy retiring gentleman act is the biggest sham there is. I’ve read your diamond scene.

• Alright so now we prep for the Ball. MC will oversee party arrangements, Drake will check with Mara on security, Hana will help with decor, and Maxwell will make sure there is plenty of bubblyyyy, wiggly letters and all. No idea what Liam is doing. Mysterious King things, I suppose.

• It’s now the night of the Ball and Hana (thank God) is helping us get ready, having already gotten ready herself first. What’s interesting (and not in a good way) is WHAT she’s wearing:

To your left is a screenshot from my playthrough, where Hana is wearing her beloved handmade traditional outfit. To your right is a screenshot from a playthrough @thefirstcourtesan did, in which Hana wears the understated LBD she wore for the MC’s bachelorette in Vegas (whether she was the bride or not). The interesting bit is that I bought the scene where Hana got her outfit back, and @thefirstcourtesan didn’t do it for that particular playthrough.

What’s more, is that I noticed in the previous book…that while the outfit on the left was an option during her wedding, it definitely wasn’t an option for the final ball in Book 3 if you didn’t pay to secretly take it from Lorelei - Hana pretty much chooses her costume gala flower gown in that case.

Are you telling me that if I don’t buy to get her own handmade outfit back, you’ve basically taken it out of her hands???

I’ll get into why this could actually be so messed up later.

• Even if Hana doesn’t have this particular outfit, why does she have to go for something so toned-down?? This is something she last wore (by default) to a bachelorette party! Why couldn’t they choose to put her in her Costume Gala gown instead? That would have worked for such a huge formal ball. At the very least it would have worked better than her LBD.

•

Not gonna lie, this annoyed me a fair bit. One, could it really have been that hard to do some of the work for this, MC? Like I said in my previous QT, the MC still doesn’t seem to take much effort to read up or ask questions about what’s going on, however powerful a figure she is. Two, I am done, done, with how much work Hana has to be doing on the MC’s behalf without getting much credit in return. She’s been doing this since Book 1. In the first two books I could somewhat understand - the MC was new, she had no idea where to begin looking, Bertrand and Maxwell weren’t exactly the most efficient support system to integrating into Cordonian society, everything was unfamiliar. That’s now not the case. She is a powerful, influential figure who has all the resources possible to understand the situation if she really wanted to. But she is still waiting on people to spoonfeed the information to her, and a friend like Hana tends to get very, very little in return.

• When I first saw this scene on my Liam playthrough, I was wondering how the Hana equivalent would look. I mean, she was dealt with a pretty heavy emotional blow the previous day. Would it still weigh on her? Would the MC check in to find out how she was doing?

Nothing of the sort happened. It was the same scene, except perhaps for a reference to Hana being a duchess. So I thought, well, maybe since it’s a heavy conversation, they’ll probably integrate it into the diamond scene, right? After all, I’d just seen a Drake scene that dealt with his reasons for agreeing to Liam’s request. Surely Hana would be given a similar courtesy?

• Okay so Hana’s research yields these results regarding our guests:

- King Bradshaw and Queen Isabella of Auvernal: Bradshaw is the kind who likes to get his way, apparently, and Isabella likes people with a sense of humour.

- Queen Amalas of Monterisso: is mysterious. That is all.

- Other Leaders: from distant countries, basically just coming to the part to have a good time.

• I think this is interesting in terms of the sheer variety of people we’re needing to handle in one party alone. All of them with different personalities, aims and agendas. Unlike Cordonia, which operates on particular codes of conduct that we are now used to, we have to pick up the subtle cues Hana gives us to figure out what works for which royal. We’re definitely being kept on our toes this chapter, and I like when that happens.

•

Ooo blingy. Very nice. Green and gold is an amazing combination, the applique on the gown is beautiful, the illusion neckline is nice, and I like seeing small pearls weaved into such a fancy outfit! Honestly we should have had something similar to this in Fydelia last book, rather than being expected to waltz in that green minidress. The only downer is that Hana’s free outfit COULD have been just as opulent but they opted to dress her down instead. And that’s not the first time they force her to dress down for occasions where she could dress like a star.

• The guys are dressed up for the occasion too. Liam in his official outfit with the medals and sash, Drake in his grey suit, Maxwell in his formal black suit sans tie. Only if you’re with Hana, do you not see your LI in their full regalia at the stairs (since we already took a good look at her at the boutique). Whichever LI you are married to (if male), you will greet at the stairs, entering the hall with them.

• Following your entry, you and your LI split up to meet and talk to your guests separately. There’s not a lot we see of our LIs’ interactions, as this chapter is mostly focussed on the MC’s first impression of these royals.

•

So you have three characters established as the most powerful (Bradshaw and Isabella, and Amalas. I recognize the sprite for Amalas as being similar-ish to Vasquez’s girlfriend in The Senior, but with different hair and styling. I read somewhere that Bradshaw’s sprite is also from another character in another series?), one character that’s there as a nod to another series (Princess Marguerite from The Heist: Monaco, who I like to believe is living her best life and happily romancing Miranda), and the other ‘distant kingdom’ characters for which they used sprites from other books (Erin from HSS, Khaan from PM, and Scarlett from VoS).

• Rather than going chronologically, I’m going to first go from the royals that were added more for extra flavour and a party atmosphere, to the royals the narrative actually focuses on:

- King Eirik: Very easily to please. Just remember the guy’s name. I’m not exactly sure he’s used to that (or Khaan Mousavi is on the run from Eros again and wants to make sure the MC won’t suss out who he really is).

- Lerato and Lesidi: So you can choose to please either sister, because each of them have different opinions on what matters. (I’m guessing Scarlett decided to give her brother in Washington some tough competition. “You’re contesting for a Senate seat? Well sucks to be you because I’m going make myself a goddamn princess!!” At the very least I know she upgraded from Tanner). Lerato can’t stand Constantine (like normal people), and is appreciative of efforts that better the lives of Cordonians. Lesidi is younger (you’re supposed to be in school Erin!!) and really just loves a good party. So as long as you move away from the chest-beating “Cordonia’s strength” response, and opt for either a noble cause or just plain good fun, your royal reputation will be fine.

(Honestly the least PB can do is replace Scarlett’s S necklace with something else if she’s just going to be a convenient sprite. Or give all her doppelgangers S names, idk).

- Marguerite: She is an out-and-out romantic and that’s definitely the vibe they’re going for here. She’s also amazing and sweet with the MC, unconditionally offering friendship and advice. You don’t get reputation points with her since she’s lovely to you anyway, but you do get to ask her what her opinion is on either Bradshaw and Isabella, you and your LI as a couple, or the other royals. The answer to the first question seems the most important, hinting at a future role perhaps. She warns us to be careful around them.

- Bradshaw and Isabella: The approach for these two is interesting. I hated the characters (esp Bradshaw, which I’m sure was what the narrative wants me to be doing) and their acting like I’m PANTING to marry off my unborn child to one of their twins - but the overall scene with them I found interesting. Bradshaw seems to operate on extremes - either you grovel in front of him or you aggressively push back, he likes both approaches. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for diplomacy and would you fight with him rather than give him a neutral response. Isabella likes seeing a sense of humour in people, and seems to enjoy it if you tell her that “when no one’s trying to kill me, this place isn’t so bad”. In any case, the only way to keep up with both is to take turns choosing answers that will interest them. I found the guessing quite challenging and fun, not so much the insinuations that I would arrange my child’s marriage before they’re even conceived.

- Amalas: Perhaps the most intriguing, and that’s probably on purpose. They’re clearly highlighting her as the underdog in this court, the mysterious Queen no one knows about (although the Black Widow reference does hint at her at least being suspected of killing her husband? Since the female black widow spider is famous for eating the male after mating). She makes a persuasive case about how Monterisso and Cordonia are “cut from the same cloth”, are both small (how many climates and landscapes does Monterisso have) countries with amazing wealth, that Auvernal wants to push into an unequal alliance with the promise of their military prowess. Amalas’ suggestion is to join hands so they can find strength together and push back against the kind of intimidation Bradshaw is showing them.

• Queen Eleanor was from Auvernal? So Liam is half-Cordonian and half-Auvernese? That must be interesting. I wonder if we will possibly see more about these foreign relations during Constantine’s time and what it must have been like. Also why do I hear practically nothing about Constantine from this exchange? They mention Eleanor, but refer to only her - especially when they’re talking about her hospitality and treating them with respect. There’s nothing much to make out of it yet (though you have at least one other person openly expressing a negative view of him), but it’s an interesting point to note nonetheless.

• QUEEN ESTHER NOW HAS A NEW CORGI!!! Since the first was named Joy, I thought I’d name the lady corgi Hope xD

• I know the narrative is writing Amalas as this mysterious, seductive figure (it’s working on me, okay! 🙈) the underdog and the cool person that everyone wants to know and be friends with - but all said and done, she advocates these bizarre ideas to make kids have betrothals on their cribs too. She’s just a little more persuasive and a little less heavy-handed about it. So I have my doubts still.

• It’s also kind of interesting that there is no specified sex given for Amalas’ child? Is customization possible for both her child and ours?

•

(Screenshots: Abhirio’s YouTube channel for Hana and Maxwell, BizzysChoices YouTube channel for Drake)

Aww @ all the LIs’ reactions to the new corgi!

• So…the MC comes out of these interactions with multiple nobles and royals either exhausted, frustrated or worried, and the LI comforts her in whatever way they can, reassuring her that things will go well. She can either feel majorly annoyed about having to deal with so much royalty, be weirded out by the kind of attention the baby she hasn’t even (possibly) conceived yet is getting, or she’s afraid the alliances won’t happen. Either way, the LI is there to help her, and suggests they sneak out and spend a little time together before dealing with the guests again.

• The basic format for this scene is very, very similar for three LIs: Liam, Hana and Maxwell. The MC agrees to sneak out, the LI takes her to the bedroom (or in Liam’s case, they have an tiny extra scene where Princess Marguerite is passing them while they’re making out in the corridor). They begin a fun, sexy game of their choosing, which the MC enjoys and which eventually leads to them sleeping together. This is followed by a short conversation after which the LI and MC go back to the hall.

This is the breakdown for each LI:

- Liam: After almost being caught red-handed making out in the corridor by Princess Marguerite, Liam and his wife make it to the bedroom. Liam plays Twenty Questions with her, quizzing her on details about the rulers she met. For each answer she gets right, he gives her a kiss (well…he kisses her even otherwise because she is impossible to resist). Once they’ve slept together, the couple then briefly discuss both their honeymoon period and then the decision they will need to make regarding alliances. The last bit is spoken about in an extremely vague manner.

- Maxwell: Immediately after the MC accepts, the two enter their bedroom and begin to do a little roleplay. Maxwell pretends he came into the bar where the MC worked alone, and that she isn’t a waitress (the player gets to choose her role: a spy, a museum curator or a jewel thief). Once they’ve slept together, they chat a little before going back to the guests, and one of the things the MC can opt to mention is that Maxwell “will be a great dad” even if he’s a fun uncle type. Oh, like that conversation Maxwell and his MC never got to have back on their honeymoon? ��

- Hana: Immediately after the MC accepts, the two enter their bedroom and do what the MC calls “an ice-cream strip game”. Either one has to taste an ice cream and correctly guess the flavour, and if they don’t get it right, they have to shed an item of their clothing. This includes fun flavours like bubblegum, rum-and-raisin and lemon sorbet. Hana then heats things up by running a little ice cream down the MC’s neck instead of letting her taste. Once they’ve slept together, the couple chat for a bit, after which the MC thanks Hana for everything she’s been doing for her. Hana is sweet and humble and the MC can optionally tell her how incredible she is but somehow the events of the previous day never come up (again, more on this later).

(Screenshots: @pixieferry for Hana and @boneandfur for Maxwell)

• HOWEVER, not only is the format of Drake’s diamond scene different, but so is the location! Drake’s diamond scene begins with the couple wanting a moment alone - the MC even takes a bottle along and there is some light hearted teasing about how he isn’t the only person in the relationship who drinks. This is followed by a four minute long makeout scene somewhere in the foyer (to give you an idea of how much time that took - Liam’s corresponding makeout scene lasts barely a minute), and the MC - to get them real privacy - takes him to that HUGE kinda dilapidated area that we once took Hana to, in Book 3…presumably to ravish each other and then watch the sunset. Which is exactly what they do.

Shortly after this, Drake and the MC enjoy the sight of the sun setting, and then discuss their future and one important aspect of Drake’s past - his changing attitudes towards nobility. The MC at this point gets to ASK him why he agreed to Liam’s proposal. He has this to say:

(Screenshot from @thefirstcourtesan)

I mean…that moment wasn’t exactly OOC only for Drake. Hana and Maxwell pretty much would have had the same questions too, but there hardly are even given the space to ask those questions. Yet somehow the team had the time and the energy to delve into just one character?

Drake gets to expand on what seeing Savannah’s family makes him feel. Drake gets to speak about his loyalty to his friend and his changing attitude to the nobility. He is lauded by the public and the press for doing and saying the bare minimum. And now, he gets an LI scene that allows him to speak at length, while the other LIs are restricted to maybe a few lines.

• I really do feel conflicted about Drake’s big scene about his loyalty to his best friend,and his issues about nobility, happening in an undercroft where Hana was once supposed to have her own big scene about family and selfhood, last book - one that we never got. Because the writers didn’t care enough.

• We now return to the Ball, and after mingling for a while, the MC gets to see what almost everyone else is doing.

King Bradshaw is bemused by Maxwell’s love for dance offs and desire to be a court jester (I know Brad but that’s basically what the writers reduced him to).

Kiara LOVES Queen Amalas’ pantsuit because it is “elegant, yet bold” and a pleased Amalas tells Kiara she should try wearing one (I’d love to see how that looks honestly 😃).

Marguerite is talking to Drake and Hana. Drake isn’t very happy that someone besides him is monopolizing this conversation and Hana is LOVING IT (same, sis, saaaaame).

•

@ Drake: This is literally your life now. You knew you would have to deal with a press meet last chapter and you knew there would be a goddamned ball where you’d have to do networking this chapter. Be prepared from now on and stop complaining, Jesus.

@ Hana: I love it when Hana trolls people, and I feel it she doesn’t get to do it often enough. Remember her impressions of Drake in Fydelia during Unity Tour. They should let her do one for everyone in the group. Please let Hana troll people more. Let her troll all of Cordonia!!

• The night winds down, and we get to see who we have impressed and who we haven’t. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Isabella’s attitude towards you hinges on your sense of humour, Bradshaw on your ability to push back and fight for what you want. Amalas on your uniqueness and that je ne sais quoi feel that seems to set you apart from the others. The other royals on different aspects: either your ambition and desire to serve the people, or the ability to let loose and have a good time! We get to know all of this on their way to the door.

• I’m glad Olivia didn’t show up here. Can you imagine just how mad she’d get if she heard all this nonsense about having marriage alliances done before these children were even born?? She’d suffered in a situation very much like that, and I think she’d be damned to let what happened to her happen to another kid. You’d need to hold her back from using an axe against these people.

• Whatever the outcome is, the MC expresses her worries to the LI, the LI comforts her and then suggests they make a road trip to America since Savannah and Bertrand are getting married there (another trip…seriously??? Please for the love of God just stay in the country/duchy and properly RULE it for once!!).

• Next set of chapters is clearly going to be taken over by the Walker family, and we’ll talk and hear about nothing else for the next couple of weeks.

General Thoughts:

• …why is no one asking where the paparazzi came from? Our paps? Their paps? Which magazine was it. Why are you so intent on making your characters look so stupid PB. They’re so stupid. My head hurts.

• Why are they saying I was in a hot tub I never saw a hot tub in that villa.

• I know some questions should be unanswered for future plot…but…you don’t think a SINGLE person would be wondering who sent them in the first place? Considering the last time photos of us were taken without our consent it was pretty much from someone who had an agenda?

• So…over the weekend I tried to do a fail playthrough of my own for Book 1 (I was dying guys I was dying. So much secondhand embarrassment. How did I survive that 😭). And since I was doing this so soon after I finished this chapter, I kinda ended up making parallels between Queen Regina’s first meeting with the suitors in Chapter 5 there, and how especially the Bradshaw/Isabella/Amalas meetings went here.

I remember distinctively that displaying a “sense of humour” was actively discouraged (Regina even says “fools use laughter to cover up their own ignorance” in the same tea party), and how highly qualities like stoicism and diplomacy are held in esteem. Bradshaw and Isabella are the antithesis to that (Bradshaw also shows slight similarities with Regina in terms of liking a challenge. During the croquet game in Book 1, Regina makes it clear that she “detests those who don’t have the stomach to stand up to me”. Bradshaw, too, seems to have more respect for an MC who stands up to him…but in perhaps a more patronizing way)

Interestingly, if the press has labelled you “Mystery Woman” in Book 1, Regina points out that “no one can remain a mystery long when they’re a public servant and must attend to the people”. Yet it is almost impossible for Hana - whose research skills are clearly on another level - to find any information about Queen Amalas.

• Tbh I kinda love that shift. By branching out and navigating through the landscape not just in but around Cordonia, the MC gets a broader view of what politics is like around this area. She gets to read the other person’s cues and behaviour, compare it with the information she has been given, and make an informed decision on what would work right with them. I hated the overall presumptuousness from the main players, but I definitely enjoyed the dynamics.

• I wonder if we will see Regina again at some point! I'm doing my Book 1 playthrough and she's kinda growing on me this time.

• The diamond scene was good on its own…until I started checking the other routes. And that’s been the case more and more often with TRR. You start out thinking “great, a nice love scene with teasing and seduction and your LI showing you just how good they are in bed, with some tender moments afterwards”. Then you look at other playthroughs and realize (if you’re a Liam stan) that their scenes were shorter and there was less to talk about. THEN you look at a playthrough like Drake’s…and find a completely different backdrop, a completely different format and an issue that his fans were complaining about being addressed. In detail. I’m a Liam stan, there is at least a little more I know I’m going to get (besides my LI being happy and not making stupid decisions in a playthrough where he is single). Hana and Maxwell get practically nothing, the writers aren’t even pretending to scrape the bottom of the barrel to give them content.

• If they’d really bothered to even this out, they could have used the end of these scenes to answer important questions. Liam could maybe tell us exactly what his experience of dealing with these kings and queens have been like, since he has had more experience with them in terms of diplomatic relations. He could speak about how it feels to have these sort of powerful, invasive figures make constant demands on him, and how that would weigh on him. After all these are the kinds of people he might have had to work with ever since Leo abdicated. Or what about Maxwell? In the livestream the writers claimed that he “grew into fatherhood”…How? Where? Why was this journey not worth showing? This diamond scene could have focused on what his turning point into that growth was, especially since Drake got that space to talk about it.

• I got two very, very bitter reminders of that horrid scene they gave Hana in Book 3 Chapter 15, in this chapter itself. One was - as I told you - the fact that if you didn’t buy this scene (that wasn’t even worth TWO diamonds, much less the 15 you could spend on it), her handmade outfit disappears after the wedding. She doesn’t have it as an option for the ball in the finale, she can’t wear it this chapter and is instead made to dress herself in a very muted style (which honestly kind of reminds me of how she was constantly treated like the “wedding planner” or “bridesmaid” rather than the bride, at her own damn wedding).

I assumed, this entire time, that even if you didn’t get the outfit in Book 3…the improved relationship with Lorelei shortly after would mean she’d get her dress back (since the reason she had to take away Hana’s clothes from her didn’t even exist anymore). Why would a Hana who HAS this outfit (at least up until the wedding) be coded as no longer owning it or considering to wear it if you didn’t buy that scene? I see no reason why it would be around and she’d not want to wear it. Her love for that outfit wouldn’t lessen just because she wasn’t running all around Valtoria to retrieve it.

So what should I assume? That Hana and her parents maybe made peace with each other but Lorelei still took her most precious item of clothing anyway? And now Hana doesn’t even get to wear it now for special occasions to represent her other home? She has to opt for an outfit she wore for a bachelorette while her wife/friend is (optionally) dressed to the nines? Just so you can stroke your ego about how this shitty diamond scene from the last book will now be of some use?

I mean…just the fact that getting back together with her parents but not getting stuff that is HERS back…I don’t even know what to say.

• TW: I speak about Hana’s scene with the doctor from last chapter again here.

• The other reminder of what a trainwreck that scene was, was definitely Drake’s diamond scene, which takes place in the same secret spot. If you didn’t buy the scene, then this was a place the MC just discovered, and if you did, she mentions seeing this place with Hana. I recall, while buying this scene, waiting and waiting for Hana to say more about that grandmother who made her dress with her, or about how her views on her parents have changed…or literally anything. But nothing much actually happened rather than a very shallow conversation and a kiss if you were her fiancée. Now in the same spot, I see Drake get a special scene with special dialogues exploring facets of his journey (and by now I’ve completely lost count of the number of times I’ve seen this happen). In the meantime, Hana gets a scene where her MC does the barest minimum - saying ‘thank you’ for all the preparations Hana’s been making the last few days. Which brings me to my next point.

• You can’t expect me to believe that two women who love each other, and who are supposed to have supported each other through difficult situations (this is true for Hana, and for the MC on the few occasions the story allowed her to)…would simply return to normal? After receiving the kind of news Hana got in the previous chapter??? That the woman going through this painful experience wouldn’t struggle with it? That her partner would not bother to check on her? (and at no point does the MC do so in this chapter). One could always argue that perhaps they could leave such a discussion for future chapters…but, as I said in detail the previous QT, the writing team has had a track record of choosing to never address very serious issues related to Hana’s own story, to the point where they were on the verge of encouraging a possible romance with someone who harmed her in her single playthroughs. If they were able to make Drake’s scene so different, why couldn’t they do the same to Hana considering her own, self-confessed, emotional state last chapter in her playthrough? Instead in that particular scene, she thanks her for everything, even referencing the same doctor’s appointment where they got this news - and it sounds patronizing considering the fact that Hana’s pain is (again!!) seen as not important even to speak about. Why couldn’t the MC at least ask after her and see how she’s feeling, and comfort her in this scene?

And if that wasn’t going to happen - why force that situation on Hana at all??

• One thing we need to keep in mind is that even when one DOES NOT want children, being told that you don’t even have that choice, or option, can be painful and in many cases traumatizing as well. I had two incredible reblogs last chapter that spoke about this in detail, from people who experienced similar situations, and I feel that unless a writer is ready to commit to that storyline and route, unless they’re prepared to write it sensitively rather than brush it under the carpet, they should not place that character in that situation. This is extremely offensive given their track record.

• This is why, when they say bullshit like “oh we would have preferred to do separate books for each LI but ended up with no choice but one book” (I’m paraphrasing), I find it so hard to believe the team. No one was forcing them to create the issues for Hana that they did. Those were narrative choices they made…and when you make such choices it’s YOUR responsibility to resolve them properly, otherwise don’t go there! Don’t have Madeleine bully her - or Olivia still mock her after they’ve become friends - if you’re simply going to allow these white (let’s never forget this. The white women in this book get away with all kinds of bullshit) women to get away with it with little-to-no pushback from Hana herself. Don’t force her into an emotionally abusive parent-child relationship if your only resolution for that is they say sorry a couple times and still have the same toxic expectations of her. Don’t rob her of her choice to physically carry a child if in the next chapter you will force her to act like nothing happened. I doubt ANY of these writers would care enough to actually write separate routes/books for anyone other than the LI they’ve always been pandering to.

• Apparently 3 writers in the team claim they would date Hana. Mmhmm. Sure. I can so see that in the way you write her, team TRH, I can so see that.

• I…love some of the characters in this series, and they’re the reason I’m still sticking around and trying to make these write-ups. But I won’t lie that it is exhausting, and frustrating, to keep highlighting these issues and barely be heard - and if the series keeps this up…I might not be able tho sustain the energy to keep writing these. I hope that doesn’t happen…but it is a very real possibility and I think I should let you guys know in case things do go that way.

• Fingers crossed that doesn’t happen - but if it does, I’ll still be working on my Book 1 QTs (my failplay brought up some insights that I found interesting!) and there’s plenty of fanfic ideas that I’d love to get back into. Let’s see how things turn out!

#long post #the royal heir #anti the royal heir #trh quick thoughts #trh qts #infertility tw #bullying tw

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junetuesday · 5 years

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12 Days of Christmas - *4*

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader

Warnings: one f bomb, those pesky female-presenting nipples again, and that’s about it.

Word Count: 1830

A/N: Will I ever post before midnight? Probably not tbh. Anyway, Richmond Park is my favourite place on planet earth, and it brings me great joy to know Tom and Tessa love it too. There is absolutely no plot here, it’s just pure fluff. Hope it helps ease the pain of the Endgame trailer, let me know what you think please! (side note i hit 2.5k while writing this so uhhhh thank u!!!) also not to get political but I was watching love actually as I wrote this and 15 (fifteen!!) years later the opening monologue is still on point so 🤷🏼‍♀️

December 7th

“Fuck it’s cold.”

Your words hung in front of you in a thick cloud, the warmth of your breath reacting with the cold air. The ground crunched beneath your boots, each blade of grass coated in frost as you trudged across Richmond Park .

When you woke up and looked out the window to see a crisp, icy morning, taking Tess for a walk in your favourite place seemed like a wonderful idea - peaceful, relaxing, even. Tom had gone to have lunch with his grandparents, and you quite fancied doing something with your time alone. Now you were there, however, unable to feel your fingers and your face so numb you could hardly think, you were less keen on the idea.

Admittedly, it was beautiful. An almost eerie silence covered the park, hardly anyone else braving the cold save the odd dedicated cyclist. You watched Tessa sniffing intently around the edge of a stream, the water frozen solid. You called her name, anxious she might break the ice - going into the water after her was not on your agenda for the day. Ever obedient, she turned and trotted back to your side. She looked up at you expectantly, as if to say, ‘where to next?’

Rubbing your hands together in an effort to generate even a little warmth, you looked around you as you considered her silent question. Going left was not an option - you could see the deer from where you stood, huddled together for warmth amidst a cluster of trees whose bare branches were surely providing little shelter from the frigid wind. You could carry on to your right, up to Isabella Plantation with its winter rhododendrons in bloom, and maybe grab a hot drink from the cafe - the owner there always had treats for Tessa, after all. Or you could turn around and make your way back home, back to central heating and fluffy blankets...yeah, home sounded a lot more appealing - especially as big fat drops of rain started to fall.

By the time you got back, you were soaked through and well and truly frozen. Your hands shook as you fumbled with your keys, fingers numb and uncooperative. You swore under your breath when you tried and failed for the third time to slot your key into the lock, the bunch falling to the ground with a clatter. Tessa gave them a cursory sniff - anything that falls from human-height could well be food, after all - before returning her attention to scratching at the front door. You’d just bent down to retrieve your keys when the door swung open, Tessa darting past Tom’s legs into the flat.

“What are you doing?” he chuckled, looking down at you crouched on the front step, icy rain falling in sheets behind you.

“Dropped my keys,” you grumbled as you got to your feet. “Too cold - hands don’t work.”

Tom stepped back to let you in, shutting the door behind you as you made a beeline for the hall radiator. You pressed your thighs to the hot bars, throwing back your wet hood and holding your hands out over the heat. Your skin tingled at the sudden change in temperature, your teeth chattering as you shivered. Tom’s hands on your shoulders made you jump, the top of your head very nearly colliding with his nose.

“Come on,” he murmured in your ear, pulling your coat off your shoulders. “D’you want me to run you a bath to warm you up?”

You just nodded as you wriggled your arms out of the sleeves, too cold and miserable to talk. Tom tugged on your hand, leading you down the hall to the bathroom and sitting you down on the closed toilet seat. You tried to untie your boots, but your fingers were still too numb, so you sat in silence as he turned on the hot water and dropped in a bubble bar from the basket on the side, shoulders pulled up around your ears and arms crossed across your chest.

“Seriously?” Tom smirked at you, looking up at him through wet lashes and shuffling your feet. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You smiled back at him as he knelt down in front of you, tugging on your laces. He pulled off your boots, setting them neatly by the door. You wiggled your toes, reaching down to take off your wet socks and chucking them aside.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as Tom grabbed the hem of your jumper, signalling for you to raise your arms so he could pull it over your head. He chuckled softly to himself when the neckline caught under your chin, the material stuck over your face. The wet wool against your lips made you splutter, but you were glad your face was hidden from view as you grimaced. Your shoulders still ached from the unnatural position you had them in the morning before last, but you didn’t really want to admit that to Tom in case it put him off trying it again.

Your sodden jumper fell to the floor with a soft splat once Tom managed to yank it over your head, leaving you in your t shirt and leggings. Once white, your t shirt had turned almost completely see-through, clinging to your damp skin. Raising your arms once more, you let Tom peel the fabric from your body. Truth be told, you were more than capable of undressing yourself, but it felt nice to have him do it. Worlds away from the way he might have torn your clothes off as you stumbled towards the bedroom, lips on your neck and hands all over your body, this was softer, much more intimate somehow. There was nothing sexual about him unhooking your bra, easing the straps off your shoulders - that is, until he gave your breasts a quick squeeze, palms warm over your cold nipples.

“Sorry,” Tom mumbled against the crook of your neck, his hands moving over your sides as he wrapped his arms around you. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re forgiven,” you sighed, melting into his warm embrace. You closed your eyes, only holding him tighter when he tried to pull away. The heat of his body was finally starting to thaw you out, and you really didn’t want to let go, but as Tom pointed out, the bath was about to overflow, so you kind of had to.

Peeling off your leggings and underwear as he turned the taps off, you dipped a toe into the water to test the temperature. Satisfied, you sighed as you sank down into the bubbles, feeling warmth spread over your entire body. A lazy smile on your lips, you closed your eyes as you thanked Tom. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head in reply, making his way towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You whined, opening your eyes when you heard him walking away.

“Back in a sec,” he called from the bedroom, chuckling at your needy tone.

Letting your eyes drift shut again, you relaxed into the water. The bubble bar had tinted the water bright pink, clouds of pale pink bubbles covering your body. You had a few different Lush products stuffed into the basket you kept on the side, but this particular one was your favourite, mostly because of the smell. The scent of blackcurrants filled your senses, stirring up memories of the mugs of hot Ribena your mum used to make you on days like today. You preferred tea now, the blackcurrant cordial too sickly for you, but the memory made you smile all the same.

Hearing Tom’s footsteps getting closer, shifting from the dull thud of his slippers on the carpet to a harsher slap against the bathroom tiles, you opened your eyes. You watched him move around the small room, placing a towel on the rail before taking a seat on the lid of the toilet. You chatted aimlessly as you returned to normal body temperature, his laugh bouncing off the tiles as he told you about his lunch with his grandparents. Eventually, the water began to cool, the bubbles all but gone, and you reluctantly climbed out of the bath, thankful for the warm towel Tom wrapped around your body.

You shuffled from the bathroom into the bedroom, nodding sleepily when Tom asked if you wanted tea. You shuddered as you passed the window - the rain was coming down even heavier than before, the wind whistling around the panes. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you were moments away from curling up and falling asleep right there in your towel. The prospect of finding something to wear, let alone having to remove your towel and put it on, was exhausting. That was the thing about baths - they always sent you straight to sleep, especially ones with all those comforting bubbles after a long walk on a cold and wet December day. Which was why, when you spotted your softest, cuddliest pyjamas on the radiator, pants and socks too, you could have cried with happiness and appreciation for your boyfriend. Would that have been an extreme reaction? Yes, but sometimes toasty warm knickers will do that to a girl.

Dried and dressed, you padded into the living room. A steaming mug of tea sat on the coffee table, a matching mug in Tom’s hand as he sat on the sofa with your favourite blanket across his legs. Turning to you with a smile, he lifted the blanket to let you slide under it, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you snuggled into his side.

“Thank you,” you smiled, stretching to kiss him softly before resting your head on his shoulder. “Can we watch Love Actually?”

Your head bobbed as Tom laughed at your request, his shoulders bouncing with the movement. Still, he reached for the remote, pulling the movie up on the TV.

“Thanks,” you murmured, shuffling to lay your head in his lap. “Love you.”

As scenes of Heathrow played on the TV, Tom rested his hand on your head, playing with your hair gently. You sighed contentedly, the sound of rain hammering at the windows lulling you to sleep as Hugh Grant’s voice filled the living room.

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.

tags:@starksparker, @bi-writes , @snowflakespideys , @buckyparkerish , @thwippeter , @cutiehollands , @loserparker , @madmadmilk , @hollandlovely @spiderboytotherescue , @santahollands @dtftomholland @moonkissedtom @cabbagebag @iknowisoundcrazy , @spiderman-n, @luvnyuh , @parkerpuff @thwip-it-real-good @positiveparker @ap93mcu @popculture-parker @christmas-marvel @younglove16 @girlreaderr @pineapplwz @thequeensardine @idk-who-cares @hollandroos @mikalaka @thot--holland @awkwardfangirl2014 @booksaremylife602 @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @dacrekaydaddict

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #12 days of christmas fic #tom holland christmas fic #tom holland imagine

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get-a-new-lease-on-life · 5 years

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A New Lease on Life - #59

WELL. It's been about a donkey's age since I've been able to update this. Normally I'd apologize for the wait…but…well, honestly, I've been beating myself up enough as it is and it's not like it happened out of the blue. Kinda-brief update for anyone wondering: I've warned about an impending grief hiatus since my uncle Bob's cancer diagnosis, and the hiatus came to pass in December. Uncle Bob finally lost his fight to cancer after two years of treatment and fading. The end came on rather suddenly but after the deathwatch he went peacefully and without pain. His death really messed me up, especially since I was already suffering from depression. Our first Christmas without Bob was also our last Christmas with Granny Chance, his mother and my grandmother…she suffered a massive stroke in January and died soon afterward. In the space of a month, my family and I lost two members, one right after the other. In a word, the whole situation has been FUCKED and it's still not completely over. There are good days, and bad days…and, to quote a certain Del Toro film, "Then there are the really bad days." Between those, we're all slowly working our way through the fallout and healing process. This chapter is the first I've been able to finish since SEPTEMBER, largely because all of my stories are currently in plot-required angsty-dramatic phases and I CANNOT WRITE SAD SCENES when I'm depressed. It's entirely IMPOSSIBLE, they always come out farcical or they just don't flow. It SUCKS. TBH, I don't know for certain if I'm going to be able to catch up to my previous writing abilities or pace anytime soon but I'm certainly going to try. Also, quick note if you're reading this on Tumblr – they recently enacted a WORDBLOCK LIMIT on text posts of 100 blocks. Yeah. We're now limited to 100 paragraphs including the title. If the chapter's low dialogue and has no notes, that's fine, but if not? Well, we're just screwed because THIS ONE ran 86 ¶s WITHOUT the notes, glossary, and pre-story stuffs. I'm not sure yet how I'll be handling that limit for good, whether that means posting links to sites without the bullshit limits, posting long chapters in pieces, or linking to the separate posts with the notes and glossary, but I'll figure it out in time. For now, I’ll be including the NOTES at the end and you can find the GLOSSARY at FFnet or AO3. Check out Spotify for a playlist centered on this arc - features suggested listening for this chapter and the next few, and much, much more. Lastly, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for their patience and understanding, and give a shout-out to some wonderful people who've made this new chapter possible. This chapter is dedicated to Wolf, Newt, and Ihlni for their invaluable support and kind words – to my hubby Cold for letting me ugly-cry on him without complaint and never failing to remind me that life has to go on – to my ma-in-law for teasing me about earning a nasty hangover instead of acknowledging that I looked like death-on-the-rocks and was obviously crying before I answered the door – to my mother for being a bloody SAINT and to my father for intentionally being an asshole when someone to fight with was just what I needed – to Wanda Farmer on AO3 and vbt22220 on FFnet for their encouragement in reviews, the folks on Tumblr who offered kind words when I needed them most, and to all you wonderful people who've stuck by me, read my stories, and are still reading after all this time. Above all, though, this chapter is dedicated to the memory of Granny Chance and Uncle Bob – may they ever rest in peace.

Suggested Listening: Fuel "Hemorrhage [In My Hands]," Paramore "The Only Exception," Prince "Purple Rain," Survivor "I Never Stopped Loving You"

59: A Matter of Honor

The Lair, November 19th - around noon

Donatello wasn't known for being a fool; regardless, he felt rather foolish anytime the obvious failed to register until it was staring him in the face. This was just such a time. He didn't recall sequestering himself in the lab much less falling asleep at his workbench, but the proof was self-evident: a crick in his neck, a strand of insulated wire still stuck to his drool-sticky cheek, and sweat-smeared glasses half off his face. It took a moment of tired lip-smacking and searching to comprehend the facts—ah, right, he pulled an all-nighter to complete the vital signs monitor for Kimber's visit. From what he could see, the device was, indeed, completed. Too tired to consider the absurd picture he must make, he peeled the wire trimming off his cheek and set it aside.

What woke him? He searched his memory, found nothing, then turned to more closely examine his surroundings. A plate of now-cold PopTarts and a cup of coffee (helpfully covered with a cracked saucer) waited a safe distance from his elbow. Right - it was Saturday. This time last year he easily lost track of the days between all-nighters and the sleeping-binges that always followed them. Now he had a weekly reminder in the form of too-sweet coffee and half-burned pastries, courtesy of the confusing woman whose scent still clung to his skin. How blessed he felt in this moment…

The moment ended with a familiar sound—a sleep-slurred phrase he could recognize anywhere but never quite understood. Ya been away too long he got, and he recognized the terms sook, e'en, and nip though he wasn't fully certain of their context.* Beyond that the half-Celt tucked into the cot may as well have been speaking Greek for all he knew. The oft-repeated tease fell short in a particularly nasal snore. Donnie hoisted himself out of his chair with a chorus of protesting joints and slowly rounded the workbench. Silently, he regarded his sleeping woman, soaking in all the silly little details that caught his eyes—the freckles spattered across her skin, the flash of faded ink peeking up over her drooping neckline, the stubborn silver cowlicks sticking up at odd angles from her loosely bound hair—anything to remind himself she was still alive.

He shook his head in weary defeat. A full week after their desperate flight from Willsdale and every time he woke he still half-expected to find Amber cold to the touch, lifeless and painted in blood. Perhaps, he considered as he gathered her in his arms and made his way to their bedroom, this was one scar which would only be healed with time. Perhaps, he considered as he lay her across the neatly tucked quilt and curled up behind her, he could only conquer his fear of Amber's death by focusing on her life. Even as he tugged her flush against his plastron and groin and nuzzled into her neck, he couldn't erase the memory of her: bruised, bloody, and broken, and rapidly fading in his arms. He shuddered and sucked in a steadying breath of her scent.

She wasn't dead, she was alive now…it was enough…right?

Red Fern Florist, Noon

Normally, Red Fern Florist was a calm place – a quiet and classy establishment that just so happened to be run by people who didn't care about being quiet or classy. This, alas, was not a normal day, not even in the slightest.

Abilene Whitaker manned the register, eyes focused somewhere beyond the neon-streaked pages of her textbook and not registering a word. The backroom echoed with near-constant racket—crashes, curses, objects falling or being thrown… Abby sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and dragged herself off of the barstool to investigate. Sure enough, Mercy was stocking the shelves a tad too roughly…if by roughly one meant throwing the bags of supplies around like a spandex-clad steroid junkie at a WWE grudge-match smackdown.

"Alright, that's enough," Abby snapped at her blonde subordinate; Mercy froze, embarrassed grey-blue eyes meeting Abby's over a lean, hunched shoulder. "You've been stomping around and slamming things all afternoon. What on earth could be so horrible you've gotta torture the mulch?" Mercy cringed, fixing guilty eyes on the bag of mulch in her grip. Caught. "Well?" The blonde uttered a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, snorted, then slid the bag onto its shelf with more care than necessary.

"My man's ex is comin' by tonight," she admitted under her breath. "She's stayin' a few days."~

"WHAT?!" Abby squawked in protest. "He's bringing his ex over?! Aw, Hell naw! Girl, you drop that boy before I find him and punch him in the man-fritters!" Man-fritters?** Mercy couldn't help it – she sniggered at the visual – but her laughter faded into regret when she registered the rest of Abby's threat.

"No can do," she sighed, "it's kinda unavoidable." Abby crossed her arms, scrunched her lips into an almost exact replica of Leo's 'pissy leader pout,' and waited for an explanation. Mercy rolled her eyes, spearing her fingers into her hair and yanking. "Kimber…well, she's like me an' Amber," she explained under her breath. "Remember I told ya Amber…uh…went home for a few days? Well, she almost…um…didn't come back. Bitch-nipple's comin' over to see how long any of us can stay home without that happening. She invited herself, we voted, Raph lost, she won." Abby took a moment to let that sink in.

"Your guy tried to vote her off the island?" A grim nod from Mercy. "They broke up before she left, right?"

"…and she left before he an' I met," Mercy added even as she rolled her eyes.~ All the code-talk really got on her nerves but they had to be mindful of the security cameras. Abby leaned against the doorframe, lean shoulders at a sharp slant, and hazel eyes puzzled behind her fuchsia-streaked hair.

"You think she wants him back?" she asked quietly. "He won't…" She sucked in a nervous breath. "What if she tries to win him back?"

"You're kiddin', right?" Mercy scoffed. "He dumped her! He's been angsty as fuck over breakin' her heart, yeah, but I know'im—she could make all the moves she wants, he ain't gonna budge."~ Not to mention Kimber's still dead she added in her own head then shook it. After all, she was dead, too. The whole situation stank like a crappy soap opera. "I trust'im, Abbs," she added under her breath. "Raph chose me, not the Jersey-Devil-wannabe…jealousy's pointless when I already know the end result, an' that end result is he's with me."

Abby watched her a moment, scrutinizing and studying; just as suddenly as she issued the threat against Raph's genitals, she smiled. "You're a strong woman," the neon-haired clerk remarked lightly. "I ever heard one of Cherie's exes asking to stay, I'd bash the twat's teeth in. You need anything, you give me a call, alright?" Mercy nodded, halfway between a cringe and a grateful smile, and went back to the stocking. "So how are things going between you two, anyway?" Abby added taking up her share of the lifting. "You never bring him by, you never tell me much about him…how's he treating you?"

Mercy paused, brow furrowed, and scrambled for an answer that didn't make her sound like an absolute sap. She couldn't find one. "He makes me wanna listen to Faith Hill, watch him sleep, an' punch his ex in the teeth," she grumbled. The heat in her cheeks went nuclear at Abby's excited squeal.

"Oh-em-GEE!" the younger practically shrieked. "You love him!" Mercy shot her a sour glare.

"Woman," she groused, "shut yer ass – the bullshit's leakin' out."

The Lair, shortly after dusk - 00:00:00

Two weeks ago, Kimber Bryant faced down Leonardo and demanded the opportunity to make right the trouble she caused his family. Now she stood in the hallway, practically quaking in her mud-stained canvas sneakers, unsure how to proceed. It didn't exactly help that Leo was still glaring at her from behind and her other escort, Donatello, kept fiddling with the tablet strapped to his left forearm.

"Now remember, you've gotta keep the leads from getting tangled," the genius rambled without ever once looking at her. "A little perspiration shouldn't cause any unwanted interference—I insulated the outer casing well to deter any outside condensation or humidity finding its way into the monitor's internal components but there are limits." Kimber rolled her bottle green eyes over at Leo in hope of rescue from Donnie's babbling but received only a glare. "It's not fully water-tight," the genius continued with a shrug and 'meh' expression, still without even glancing her way, "so we'll need to cover it with a water-resistant dressing when it comes to bathing but other than that it—"

"Today, Donnie," Leo grumbled. The younger startled out of his thoughts, fingertips still poised on the holographic chart projected over his tech-tab. He blinked a few times in rapid succession as though refreshing his memory then turned to Kimber in question. From the looks of it, she seemed ready to chew her ankle off to escape the lecture. She really was so very different from Amber…how could they possibly be the same person underneath it all? Could a person's history and past choices really have that big an impact on their personality and attitude?

"Uh…right," he uttered with a wince. "Anyway, it's natural for your core temperature to fluctuate a certain amount over the day but if it drops too low, I'll get an alert. We may not have much time to get you back…so…" he trailed off in hopes she'd pick up the slack.

"Don't get comfy," she finished sourly. "Yeah, I got it. Git lawst."~ He crinkled his nose at her demand but said nothing; instead, he rolled his eyes in defeat and took off toward the lab.

"Remember our agreement," the eldest warned under his breath as he shouldered past her. "You have one chance, and you're to stay—"

"I got it, I got it," Kimber snapped in response. "Go dig t'at stick out'a ya ass before it gets stuck up t'ere."~ Other than a deep-chested growl of warning, Leonardo said nothing—he just stormed past her to some destination she didn't care to know. Rolling her eyes at his attitude, she made her way toward the light at the end of the hallway. The closer she came the more clearly she heard a familiar voice—a voice that still haunted her fondest dreams and worst nightmares.

Familiar laughter led her into the living area where two people were cuddled up on a lumpy sofa. The larger wore a familiar boyish grin that stole the breath right from her lungs. In her grip, the duffle-bag strap slid loose—sweaty palms, she realized. A fluttering, weightless sensation filled her veins—oh, no… 'Gawd dammit…why've I gotta still love'im?'~ She choked around the damned butterflies doing barrel-rolls in her gullet. Steeling her nerves, she shook off her mushy thoughts and turned the corner. 'It don't change nothin'—dead's dead, an' he never chose me anyway. It's better t'is way.'

Raphael…he looked so much the same and yet so different. His eyes shone with laughter where they once burned with distrust; his posture was relaxed where he always kept up a front before. Tucked into his side and 'narrating' the boxing match with absurd faked voice-overs was a tall, lean woman with short messy blonde hair. Kimber's lip ached to curl in a sneer as the blonde loosed a raucous laugh but she fought it back—Raph wasn't hers. If this…this woman in his arms was enough for him…well, she'd respect that. She only ever wanted to see him happy and by God, she'd do so, no matter how much it hurt.

One moment, everything in Mercy's world was perfect. There was a decent match on TV, Raph had 'bullied her' into not-cuddling with him, and for the moment they had no other obligations. As it always seemed to, though, everything fell apart in a single breath…a breath that carried a perfume of vanilla, sugar, and musk. The smell wasn't entirely unpleasant but it was strong enough to make her sinuses burn and her head hurt. Why must so many people marinate themselves in perfume and cologne?

As Mercy and Raphael turned to greet the newcomer in unison the arm around her waist slackened—bright golden hazel eyes widened—full, scarred lips fell slack in dismay. Those lips formed a single word—a name Mercy spent hours cursing that afternoon—but no sound came forth. Torn, she held her silence, eyes darting from Raphael to the stranger and back again almost desperately. She knew this moment would come, she just didn't realize how much she'd want to scream obscenities when it did.

The stranger broke the stare first, bottle-green eyes flustered behind their impeccable smoky eyeliner. She reached up to her modest neckline, grabbed at the pair of worn metal dog-tags at her chest, took a deep breath, then looked up again with a weak smile. "'ey, Raphie," she murmured in a voice still thick with smog. "Long time no see, huh?" The hulking mutant couldn't even get out a single word; he just nodded, his chin and lips unnaturally stiff. Even as he stared down Kimber Bryant he clenched his fingers even tighter to Mercy's waistband. Mercy glanced down at the sight of his three-fingered hand anchoring her in place by a belt-loop. Just that morning, she woke up with that hand tangled in the hem of her nightgown anchoring it at mid-thigh. She had nothing to fear.

She pried Raph's fingers loose, stretched an imaginary crick from her neck, and rolled off the sofa to her feet. "I'll catch up later," Mercy remarked with an entirely faked smile and made her way to the side door. "Compost prob'ly needs a turnin' 'bout now."~ On the way past, she silently took in what details she could, mentally comparing them. The other woman was her height but beyond thin and into skinny. Her hair was coarse—naturally red from the looks of it but with a texture similar to unraveled jute twine. A sharp glance told Mercy the other had practically no ass; no competition there. She rolled her eyes, punched in the security code to pass through, then let the door drift shut behind her.

Before she could get anywhere a pair of large, powerful hands snatched her by the shoulders, spun her about, and pinned her to the tunnel wall. "Why you leavin'?" Raph demanded sharply. His voice was barely below a shout but as so often before, Mercy saw underneath that posturing—she saw the suspicious shimmering in his eyes, the nervous tic in his jaw, the vulnerable hunching of his shoulders, and the lurching of his throat and plastron from frantic heaving breaths. Fear was the one thing he really had no reason to feel in this case but it was written all over him. She cupped his squared jaw, thumb tracing the scar splitting his lip.

"I ain't leavin', ya meathead," she corrected as he covered her hand with his in a frantic grip. "You were friends, right? Ya never got to say goodbye. I've seen how this's been tearin' you apart an' I'm sick of watchin' it."~ Her lips curled in a tease but it was entirely true—she was beyond sick of having another woman in their relationship, even a dead one. "Ya need closure, I get that—I'm backin' off so you can get it. Got it?" Raphael said nothing—he just stared back, visibly searching her words for subtext. When he finally spoke, what he asked made no sense.

"Why?" he demanded in a near-deadpan. Mercy wrinkled her nose but before she could speak, he continued. "Why're ya testin' me like dis? What've I done ta deserve dat?"~

"Testin' you?" Mercy shook her head and scoffed. "I'm not testin' ya, Red," she promised. "I know you and I trust you—you're not about to cheat on me with anyone, much less a dead chick, right?" He shook his head in agreement and his eyes softened; he belatedly released her hand, choosing instead to cup her cheek.

"I wouldn't do dat to ya," he confirmed gruffly. "I'd never…I promised not ta hurt ya an' I meant it…but…" He faltered, flustered and struggling to find the right words. "Dis ain't right…ya ought'a be pissed at me fer even lettin' 'er come here…heck, if dis happened to any other guy, he'd get slapped fer lettin' it happen!"

"You're not any other guy," Mercy reminded shortly, "an' I'm not any other gal. Jealousy won't help anything, it ain't healthy, and you weren't too keen on her comin' over, to begin with. I've got no reason to be mad at'cha, an' especially no reason to hit ya."~ Her eyes drifted back toward the side door, now closed, and she sighed. "I don't like it," she admitted as her hand drifted down to his thick neck, "but I know you need closure an' I trust you enough to not interfere."

Raphael said nothing—what could he possibly say?—instead, he took a step back, eyes wide. This wasn't the first time she professed her trust in him, nor would it be the last, but this utterance seemed the most improbable of all. Wait…no, there was one other moment even more unexpected—a recent moment, the moment he first witnessed Mercy Ross fall apart at the seams, right there in his arms.#

Tousled blonde hair spilled across his pillow like scattered straw. Unpainted lips, swollen from friction, panted around gasping breaths. Work-roughened fingertips clawed at the equally tough skin of his bare scalp and shoulders as he unleashed all his pent-up frustration on her finally bared skin.

"I trust you," she'd promised only moments before. "When are ya gonna start trustin' yourself?"

"Ya shouldn't trust me," he'd blustered, but despite his denials, he caved to her temptation. He knew from the first breath it would take weeks to clear her pheromones from his lungs; he'd never forget the taste of her or her keening cries of completion. When the madness left her eyes and the fire dulled in his blood, Raphael knew he'd never be able to see his Mercy the same, nor would he ever cease to be humbled by her seemingly unshakable faith in him—trust he couldn't recall doing a damn thing to earn.

That July, Raphael took a chance on happiness in the middle of an open rooftop—a single kiss followed by countless more, all sound-tracked with heavy metal. Ever since then, anytime he fell to the temptation of Mercy's lips, he lost himself completely. He wanted her—he needed her—he craved her—she was the air he breathed, vital to his very survival and responsible for every beat of his heart. Far below the filthy streets, in a dark passage forgotten by the world in general, he stole her lips and breathed her in reverence.

He loved her—loved her beyond the limits of his fears and follies—and that was why she knew he wouldn't let her down.

"So you two, huh?" Raphael ducked his head to avoid Kimber's eyes, hoping she couldn't see the traces of stickiness at his lips or the tenting of his patched trousers. She said nothing, choosing instead to examine the worn red tweed of the sofa arm she perched on.

"What of it?" he retorted slumping onto the seat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Looks like ya found a good one, 'at's all," she shrugged. He studied her silently a moment, searching for signs of deceit. In his heart, he knew this stranger was Kimber—his Kimber, the friend he threw away over his insecurities and fears—but her appearance was largely unfamiliar. Kimber was always on the chunky side of curvaceous but with an undeniable sex appeal. This new body was built like a scarecrow - all long limbs and frizzy hair - but underneath he could see the same sensual confidence Kimber had before she died. That sensuality was all Kimber - Amber lacked it completely, always coming across somewhere between odd and awkward. This woman, though visually unfamiliar, was definitely Kimber. Something in her eyes spoke of mischief…and regret. "Fer Gawd's sake," she swore under her breath and turned an acidic glare on him. He refused to meet it, locking his eyes on one padded and splayed knee. "I know t'a drill—I'm dead, not stoopid."

"Ya were never stupid, Kim, jus' stubborn an' naive," he protested but she waved him off.

"T'en quit lookin' at me like t'at." After a moment of resistance, he finally bit the bullet—he met her eyes. "Yeah, like t'at," the redhead grumbled, "like I'm gonna jump ya if ya take yer eyes off'a me or somethin'. I may be livin' in a homewrecker but t'at don't make me a homewrecker." This time, she was the one to hide her eyes.

A long, tense silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional sound from the Lab or utility room. In this unexpected but overdue moment, despite the drastically different appearance, Raphael saw Kimber as she was when they first met—not the over-confident temptress with the venomous smile and devil-may-care attitude but the lost, lonely, frightened runaway searching for her place in the world. Her new body was thirty-five if it was a year old, but she'd never looked more like a child to him than she did now. The night she turned Lefty and Northpaw over to the police and fell apart, Raph let the wrong head do the thinking and her heart suffered for it. So much heartache came from that one bad call—Kimber's death, too, was a result—how could he ever make it right?

"Rah-fay-el." The quiet – almost reverent – utterance of his name startled him from his brooding. Kimber faced the far wall but her eyes were locked on his askance. "Tell me t'a truth…did ya ever love me?" He blanched; she scoffed and picked at the faded red tweed covering the sofa. "I know we was close," she clarified in a soft tone void of accusation, "friends to be sure, but did ya ever love me like I loved you?"

He didn't answer—he couldn't answer, not around the painful lump in his throat. For so long, he wondered the very same. Loving Kimber, after all, would have made his betrayal a crime of passion rather than a bad move made in paranoid self-defense. Despite all his brooding introspection, though, he always came up with the same answer: he could have loved her, but he didn't…if he'd kept his head, maybe, someday, he could have loved her, but he didn't. "Exactly." Kimber's near-whisper broke his train of thought. "I knew ya didn't love me," she admitted even as her shoulders drew tight and her painted lips stretched in a sort of sneer. "I always knew it, I just t'ought…eh, no matter. I'm not gonna fuck up yer life again."

"I think ya got dat backwards," Raph pointed out dryly. "I fucked up yer life—I'm why yer…" He faltered, his throat clenching around the word as though to prevent him from voicing it. "Ya know," he settled for with a weak half-shrug, "like dis." Kimber watched him silently, eyes sharp enough to cut away his protective façade.

"Say it," she challenged. He flinched; she slid off the armrest and stalked over to face him, arms crossed in defiance. "Say it, Raph," she ordered, "ya know what I am—ya know t'a word, so use it. I'm…" She trailed off, one eyebrow cocked in expectance.

Raphael cringed. Of all the times he wished it was possible to completely withdraw into his shell, this was one of the worst so far. Weary hazel eyes drifted from Kimber's dirty canvas sneakers up her faded jeans and cotton blouse, up to her unimpressed eyes. "Yer…dead," he whispered as if confessing some great sin.

"Exactly," Kimber harrumphed and jabbed him between the eyes with one clear-lacquered fingernail. "Dead folks an' live folks jus' don't mix, ya muck-brained mawron.~ It wouldn't work an' I ain't about to waste my time tryin' ta make it work. Capiche?" He nodded, glaring up at her retreating back.

"Den why'd ya come back?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his knee. "Dere had to be anutha way to test Don's theory, so why'd ya volunteer?"~ Kimber stilled in her pacing, carefully arranging her words before they could all spill out without concern for her feelings.

"I never got ta say goodbye," she admitted in a near-whisper, "not ta you, not ta Daron or Lefty, not ta anyone who mattered…but I've neva been t'at big on goodbyes anyhow, ya know?" Her voice cracked on the last words and she took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, she turned to the side as though watching him over her shoulder but her eyes remained hidden. "I made a lotta mistakes, Red—a lotta stoopid decisions t'at hurt a lotta people—an' much as I wanted to just stay dead, I lived ta regret every one'a t'ose decisions. T'at's why I came back…t'a fix t'a shit I broke an' atone for my sins. If t'at means stayin' here fer t'ree days while you an' Blondie play suck-face, so be it."

"Ya know you're puttin' yer life at risk, right?" Raph reminded, ignoring the suck-face comment. "Donnie ain't sure about da timing on dis thing, ya know. He an' the braided nutcase passed five days in her world but they weren't gone a whole three days, here. Who's to say ya'll have a full three days here? Who's ta say ya won't drop dead in an hour, or three hours, or even a minute from now?" He shuddered at the thought, his mind helpfully supplying several months' worth of nightmares to choose from, most of which ended with Kimber dying in his arms. "Ya froze, Kim, an' dat ain't an easy way to go; are ya really willing to risk goin' through it all over again?"

"It's my choice," she reminded with a stern expression reminiscent of an unimpressed schoolmarm. "No one asked me ta make t'at choice. Besides, see t'is?" She tugged her neckline aside to show him the small plastic device hung from her neck and the line of wire trailing down to her armpit. "T'is lil' t'ing's monitoring my core temp—we've got t'is covered. Trust me?"

Raph considered the plea a moment—for it was, indeed, a plea in every sense of the word—then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "I don't like it," he admitted in a throaty rumble, "but it ain't my job ta like it." There was much more to say, but for the moment, he hadn't words.

"Nope," Kimber agreed with a sly grin. "It's yer job ta help me give Daron a heart attack. What say we give'im a visit from t'a Livin' Dead Girl?" It was just a tease—just another excuse to ignore the elephant in the room—but for the moment, Kimber didn't care. She had more important tasks to focus on—messes to clean up, mistakes to correct, sins to atone for, and honor to regain. For now, the rest could wait.

The Lair - 00:35:00 and counting

Time stops for no man, people often said, and the same could be said for women. Never mind that Amber's cantankerous counterpart was staying in the Lair for the weekend…lurking around every corner…stinking up the place with her perfume…just waiting for a chance to bitch-slap Amber back into her place at the bottom of the food chain…

Amber shuddered at the thought and firmly shoved it into the back of her mind. Kimber Bryant made Amber all kinds of nervous but her presence didn't excuse Amber from her chores. There was too much to do—laundry to put away, studying to do, dinner to prepare— Something soft and furry brushed against her calf, startling her from her thoughts. "Right," she muttered as Kirk bypassed the laundry basket at her feet and hopped up onto Donnie's bed. "Gotta clean the litterboxes an' feed Kirkland too." After a mrrruhl of warning and a superfluous butt-wiggle said feline launched himself right into a pile of folded undergarments and began viciously mauling a sock big enough to double as an oven mitt. As he lay on his side, wrapped around the sock and kicking like a homicidal kangaroo, Amber sighed and shook her head in whimsical defeat. After how much she'd missed him she couldn't really be upset with the little murder-machine; cats, after all, would be cats, and socks could be darned.

"It's inevitable, Kirk," she teased as she hung a pair of patched canvas trousers in the frame-and-fabric 'closet.' "You're just gonna have to get used to sharing me with Donnie. I know I'm Mom but he's mine - you can't resent him forever." With an adorable cotton-muffled urrrr, Kirk glared at her over a mouthful of beige knit as if to say watch me. Ah, the jealousy of spoiled cats.

"Honestly, I'm lucky to have Donnie," she added to herself, doubts and worries filling her thoughts between wire hangers. Back before the dream connection was confirmed—before Donatello confronted her with his old Tonfa and confessed the name of her dead classmate—Amber could fool herself he wasn't the same Donnie she grew up with. She could tell herself that he didn't know all her dirty little secrets. He didn't watch her fall apart over the last few years of her life, partly from illness and her and partly from depression and apathy. He never heard how her poor choices in college may have led to the death of a classmate. He never knew she routinely slaked her carnal needs in impersonal encounters so her time with him in dreams could be focused on more important things than her hormones. If this Donnie wasn't her Donnie, then the mistakes of her past were only a secret to keep.

The problem was…now she knew this was her Donnie…and by the sounds of it, he remembered everything. Amber paused, fondling a strip of worn purple fabric. Even after countless washings, every one of those masks smelled strongly of his oddly comforting blend of coffee, machinery, musky exertion, and spice. "How can he even look at me, Kirk?" Amber murmured into the sweet-smelling fabric. "I screwed up with him so many times…I gave up on him, I – I gave myself up to other guys…how doesn't he hate me by now?"

This last question seemed the most perplexing. Sure, the purpose of those impersonal booty-calls was to shut up her hormones so her scant time with Donnie could be put to better use, but she always regretted them afterward. Regret, though, didn't count if a person intentionally committed the same crime over and over again, and she was guilty—guilty of closing her eyes, mentally replacing the other men with Donnie, and crying herself to sleep after they left. Regret was a weak word, really; what she felt wasn't weak. After all the time she spent hating herself for the infidelity, the idea that Donnie didn't hate her for it made no sense.

The dead silence tore her from her ruminations; odd, considering Kirk had a habit of 'answering' her every time she spoke.## After a quick glance at the bed, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. The little furball was out cold, wrapped around her favorite bra and snoring into one generous cup. The battered sock sprawled on the floor half under the bed—the enemy was vanquished. Chuckling at the absurdity, Amber crouched to retrieve the sock but paused when she noticed something wedged between the mattress and box spring. A warped silver wire binding, traces of green beyond the rings…surely she was mistaken, but it wouldn't hurt to check…right?

Amber tugged the notebook loose and promptly cringed in recognition. It was her journal, the one she hadn't written in for months then misplaced. Why was it jammed under the mattress like a nudie magazine? Curiosity drove her to investigate and she quickly discovered the litany of notes scribbled upside-down in the back. She quickly lost herself in the writing—questions and memories, hopes and fears Donatello couldn't bring himself to share with her, all centered around their years apart. Though she didn't dig too deeply, there wasn't a single word of blame or judgment anywhere—nothing that indicated resentment or disgust. Amber almost missed the sheet of loose-leaf that slipped out and fluttered to the floor—almost. The pencil-scribbled contents might have made her stumble if she hadn't already seated herself before. "I met my lover in a dream," she whispered in recognition.^ "That poem…I thought I lost it...I guess Donnie found it?" Soon enough, she hit the final lines:

Mibbe someday he will see – Someday the truth I'll tell. For now, I've only memories, And dreams I shot tae Hell.

Or, rather, those should have been the final lines—they were the last she wrote. Someone, however, clearly thought the poem wasn't finished and added their own verse…in pen…neatly printed by a familiar hand straddling the border between calculating and persnickety. "No way," Amber muttered thickly as she scanned the added verse, wide-eyed and breathless. "Naw fookin' way!"~ No matter how she protested, the words remained clear, impossible yet obvious. Still marveling at their presence—and at the subtext—she never heard the soft ticking of a distant clock, or the even softer inhale accompanying.

Dreams can sometimes fall apart, And memories can fade. The truth you shared can't change my heart… Your lover-friend I've stayed…

I'll see you in our dreams.

There was no stopping it, no holding back: Amber crushed the paper to her pounding heart in elation. He remembered. He understood. He loved. Perhaps, even…he forgave?

Sometimes emotions are too powerful for words; fortunately for Amber, squealing unintelligibly required none.

UP NEXT: (Currently in-progress)

Chapter List

- The vital signs monitor – At first I wasn't quite sure if such a device was on the public market, at least aside from 'smart' devices like FitBit and such, so I did what I do best: I researched the fuck out of it for funzies. Turns out there are more varieties out there than I expected, each monitoring different signs in different fashions and to different accuracy levels. Since Donnie's never been the sort to simply COPY others' ideas, we can safely assume he's combined the best of several devices. The result is a small electronic monitor [about the size of a 9-volt battery] hung from the neck by a lanyard, which measures core body temp by way of leads attached to an adhesive-backed electrode stuck in the armpit. We can also assume fitting the device on Kimber was incredibly awkward because she intentionally MADE IT awkward.

* Full statement including what Amber's snoring cut off: "Ya be'n 'way too long 'gain, ya sook—nae be'n by fer a nip'er a bosie. Wha's a lass ta think?" – This little bit of Scotchness is a routine in-dream tease from Amber. You've been gone [from our dreams] too long again, you old softy—you haven't even come by for a kiss or cuddle. What's a woman to think?

** Man-Fritters – Alas, I cannot claim authorship of this little snigger-inducing euphemism. That honor belongs to author Mimi Jean Pampfiloff in her Accidentally Yours series. While the first two books were pretty recipe [if you know what I mean] they were HILARIOUS recipes. I'm not ashamed to admit that the scene in the first one where the heroine belts out 80's pop hits to keep sane made me laugh so hard I spewed my tea, CHOKED ON IT, then spent the rest of the day CROAKING. It was WORTH IT. (That said, the author also used a lovely little nonsense-word coined by my IRL friend Autumn back when we were in high school but didn't notate it. I'd encourage Autumn to stop starting word trends without first seeking a copyright but that'd mean I'd have to pay her every time I stole her stuff, heh.)

Also: Abby has no accent. She's intentionally warping the Oh, Hell no! in hopes of showing Mercy just how upset the news makes her.

# Implied smut – The encounter referenced here didn't make it to in-story occurrence BUT it took place during the Absolutes arc, which took up too much time-and-space for the intended back-and-forth between worlds. It's written up and included in the "Gallery of Memories" as The Blonde and the Beefcake and it can be found HERE.) It's almost entirely lemon, BTW. ;P

## Kirk tends to 'answer' Amber every time she talks to him – I am SO not basing this on our cat Heiferlump. Nope, not at all! …fine. Yes. Heifer responds to EVERYTHING she hears, no matter who says it, and it's rare to find someone she can't bait into answering back. She's particularly adept at getting my father to argue with her and routinely tries to argue with the microwave beeper. O_o It's awesome.

^ The Poem, "Dream Lovers" – I've not posted the entirety of the poem in any chapters or even the GoM installment of the same name. NOW, however, you can find the entire poem in comic format HERE, on this story's Here on Tumblr, OR on DeviantArt. The comic includes Donnie's additions and a small blurb of backstory leading to this scene, and the Tumblr/AO3 posts include a glossary for the many odd words used in the poem. For convenience's sake, I've included the translation of the included verse below.

Again, since Tumblr’s decided to be an ass about wordblock limits, see FFnet or AO3 for the glossary if anything throws you off.

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