Low level/continuous pain tips for writing

Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:

General

Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)

Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc

Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)

Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around

Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal

Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement

Itching in the case of healing wounds

Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)

Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)

Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better

May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases

Limb pain

Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain

Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting

Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)

Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation

Holding arm closer to body/moving it less

Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)

Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort

Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)

May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea

Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever

Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention

Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control

If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)

Lovesick - Chpt.1&2

Summary: The last thing Micah Bell ever expected to happen in his storm of a life is for him to get soft on a woman, but that's exactly what's happened. And now, Micah has to figure out if he wants to keep suppressing those feelings or finally act on them.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader 

Word Count: 4414

Rating: SFW

Tags: Pining, Secret admirer, Feelings denial/realisation, Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Mental breakdowns, Crying, Slow burn, Friends to lovers, Falling in love, Mostly Micahs POV.

Notes: I really really really really really enjoy the idea of Micah getting super-duper soft on someone and struggling with those mushy feelings, so why not write a multi-chapter fic about it?? This was heavily inspired by the song 'Whiskey - Tejon Street Corner Thieves'. I can totally picture Micah being the kinda guy to suppress his mushy feeling with alcohol. I was gonna make this a short fic where a very drunk Micah confronts the reader like "ahh I'm drunk and i hate you because you make me feel like this," and then I got carried away because I'm a sucker for super slow burn >:)

He hates you. He despises you. Even just the thought of you makes him sick to his stomach, sick to the point where he can barely stand up straight. And whenever he sees you? Whenever you come over to him with that soft smile on your face and talk to him as if he's a normal human being? God. That makes him so much worse. He hates the way you make him feel, the way no woman should make him feel. He'll happily point and laugh at any man that allows a woman to tell him what to do, to make a man soft and worship the ground she walks on. But Micah's found himself in the last predicament that he thought he'd ever end up in; he was expecting to finally have a noose stay around his neck and steal him from this world, but instead, he finds himself here. Micah looks up from his knife, sharpening it over and over whilst he leans against a tree on the outskirts of camp. It's gentle out here, calming, with a pretty view of the red sand that welcomes the lake as the waves rock back and forth. But no picturesque setting can at least settle the flames that burn inside of him. Micah's always been a loose cannon, a devil walking amongst the earth. He never really questions his actions, he just does them, especially when the bastards on the other end of his gun deserve it. But that fire inside of him is slowly turning into a sickness, a dizzy and sweaty sickness that makes him question his actions simply because he worries about what you'd think. 

He was so disappointed in himself the first time it happened. He'd trailed across to Valentine saloon with yourself and a few other camp members, only because you'd invited him. The other men didn't pay much attention to him, but you did. You stuck beside him all night, practically pouring liquor down his throat as he tried to calm that feeling he gets whenever he's within ten meters of you. A stranger had tried to grab you on your way back over to the table, and Micah was straight to his feet, storming over and landing a punch perfectly on that poor fuckers nose. At first, you were glad that Micah had your back. But the more punches Micah landed, the more that stranger's face turned blue. You only had to bark Micah's name once to catch his attention; his head perked up, the stranger's blood splattered across his face, but his wild eyes had calmed the second he locked onto you. He dropped that man to the floor and left him to the elements, following you out the Saloon and apologizing over and over for getting so carried away. "He shouldn't have touched you," Micah had told you. "I know, and I appreciate you sticking up for me, but you got so carried away. He's probably gonna die from those injuries. You've gotta stop being so bloodthirsty," you told him as he helped you up onto your mount, climbing on top of Baylock shortly after. "Bloodthirsty?" Micah questioned. The word echoed throughout his brain, settling in his stomach as his nerves were turned to a different kind of mush. He felt cold and isolated, like he had disappointed you and ruined any chance of you ever falling for him, not that there probably was a chance to begin with. "Yeah, bloodthirsty," you repeated, nodding at the same time. He apologized to you again and told you he'd sort himself out, that he'd stop acting on impulse and anger. You tried to laugh it off with him; "Of course you will, and I'll grow wings and fly." Micah laughed along with you but the fact that you doubted him so much kept him awake for days, not that he sleeps much anyway. How dare you. How dare you have such power over him, despite not even being his, or being aware of it. Sure, you're kind and polite to him, but you have no ties to him. You've barely flirted with him, and surprisingly, he hasn't tried flirting with you either. Whenever you're around he can't put on that cheesy act, he can't throw a few pick up lines your way and hope for the best. Micah finds himself actually wanting to impress you, to show you his best side in hopes of winning you over. It's sickening. Micah scowls and sharpens his blade a little harsher. He's not frustrated at you, not one bit, but he definitely is frustrated at himself. He can't believe he's fallen for a woman; he's not just fallen, he's tripped over and fell face-first into a ten feet deep grave, and he wouldn't be surprised if you decided to leave him down there, or bury him alive. Amos once used a specific word when he first started feeling like this when he met his wife - lovesick. Micah hates that word, he despises it, but only because he can feel it right now. It fits so perfectly, so snug. To be in love with someone so much that they physically make you sick. It's amazing how one person can do that to another and not even be aware of it. Micah's surprisingly acted like his usual self when he's around you, though the odd stutter has slipped out, along with his hands that are now almost always clammy. He hopes you haven't noticed it, especially when he put a wad of cash in your hands after a robbery you'd assisted him with. He has slipped up once though, and he knows he slipped up because you approached him the next day to check if he was alright, to which he excused himself again and ran off. It was hard not to notice the mess Micahs knuckles were in the day after that saloon fight; they were swollen, an array of purple and red blotches, some parts of his skin had even torn. "That looks nasty," you said as you caught Micah's attention. He brushed it off, saying it was nothing, but you continued to push at it. "I've got something that might help, let me go fetch it," you said. Before Micah could protest, you'd already ran off. He took a seat at the campfire with you and on command, held his hand out. Micah watched you as you dabbed the ointment onto a cloth and then oh god, you're holding his hand. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Your fingertips are pressed against his palm, your skin against his, as your other hand holds the damp cloth onto his knuckles. Was this it? Was this the day that Micah was going to embarrass himself in front of you? Was he going to throw up? Maybe pass out? You're being so kind and gentle, helping heal his wounds, something that nobody has ever done before. "She's just a friend, she's just being kind to you," Micah tells himself over and over, trying to remind himself that you'd never fall for a devil like him. "How longs this gonna take?" Micah asks, trying to mentally prepare himself for however long he's going to feel sick for. "Oh? You got places to be, Micah?" you ask with a laugh, eyes briefly meeting his before focusing on his hand again. "I'm a busy man, sweetheart. Someones gotta bring in the money," he tells you. Oops. The pet name didn't mean to slip out, but you don't cast a scowl or begin to hurdle abuse at him, you seem to barely notice it. "Of course you are, Micah. The busiest man in the camp, always sharpening his knife or cleaning his guns," you say with a laugh. "I mean it. I've got a robbery that needs attending to," Micah lies, though you seem to be falling for it. "Fine, fine," you sigh, moving your hands off Micahs. You look up at Micah, expecting him to thank you and leave, but he sits there blankly. "Well? Ain't you gotta go rob some folk?" you ask. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you around, thanks again," Micah quickly mutters before jumping to his feet and running off. He managed to rob a few folk on his ride around the area, the ride that was meant to settle his nerves and clear his mind. It worked, and Micah felt like his normal self once he began robbing folk, but all his progress crashed and burned when he trailed back into camp that night and accidentally locked eyes with you. What a fool this man is. The sound of your laughter catches Micahs attention. He's been stood leaning against this tree for god knows how long, thinking about you, not that his mind isn't always occupied with thoughts of you. But that's a different kind of laugh you're letting out, one that Micah's only heard when it surprisingly been directed at him. He peers over his shoulder and gazes into camp to find you talking to Arthur. He's babbling away about whatever, talking to a few of the girls though you're sat amongst them. They're all laughing along with him, and Micah isn't sure if you're laughing louder than the others, or if he's just more focused on you. But either way, it hurts. Micah hates feeling jealous, just as much as he hates feeling lovesick. But Arthur? Why does Arthur have to be the one to make you laugh like that? Why can't he just fuck off and leave at least one of the women available? He's a big, dumb idiot, but he knows how to make the women swoon, especially all the camp ones. Micah holsters his knife and throws the whetstone to the floor in anger. As the stone hits the ground, he instantly regrets his outburst, knowing that if you saw that, you'd be disappointed in him for acting out in anger. He checks over his shoulder but you've thankfully not noticed, still fixated on that big dummy. Micah rubs his face, trying to brush away that feeling inside of him but it's no use. He hears your laughter again and begins walking away. He needs to get away from that situation. He doesn't want to hear nor see other men flirting with you, not only because he gets jealous, but because it reminds him that you'd never go for a man like him. Maybe Micah should avoid you for a while? Maybe he should give himself some space in hopes of killing off all those feelings he has for you? ------- Micah's not been seen around camp for a week now. He left in the night without telling anybody where he's going, not even Dutch. He's occupied his time well, doing all his favourite things and visiting two close friends of his. His thoughts of you become less and less, and eventually, he feels settled enough to return to camp, ready to suppress those feelings and push you away. He returns during the evening, trotting back into Clemens Point to overhear Pearson shouting that dinner was ready. Baylock is hitched and his saddle is removed, swung over the hitching post so his mount can relax. Micah spends the evening lounging about, speaking to a few camp members, half-eating his food, the usual stuff, but there's been no sign of you. Good. He doesn't need to see you right now. The night is spent drinking with Bill before he goes off on guard duty, leaving Micah to have another glass of whiskey on his own. Nature eventually calls, and Micah forces himself to his feet so he can wander off into the forest and empty his bladder. He hums to himself as he does so, his feet stumbling ever so slightly but he only considers himself tipsy. If a stranger were to waltz into camp with their guns blazing, Micah knows he's somewhat sober enough to take them on, and that's the only reason why he doesn't consider himself to be drunk. He takes his time wandering back into camp but a noise in the distance perks his ears up. Micah stands still, his feet coming to the halt so he can focus on the sound rather than the crunching earth beneath his feet. It's a whimper, as if a baby deer has been left by itself nearby, no momma to be found. Micah follows the sound, curious to know what's crying out nearby. He'd normally ignore it, but his gut is telling him to follow, even though he told himself that he'd stop listening to his gut so much as it always got him caught up in some kind of trouble, usually feelings related. Micah wanders well into the outskirts of camp, trailing down along the shoreline and coming to a halt when he finds the source of the sound. It's you, your knees up to your chin with your arms wrapped around them. You're sobbing into your lap, your knees muffling most of your cries though some had seemed to slip out. Micah finds himself in a predicament and curses whoever is in the sky for pulling him into this one. Should he sneak away and let the guilt of knowing he left you alone to cry settle on his shoulders for however long it chooses to stay? Or should he go over and comfort you, knowing that sickness inside of him will spark up again? Although, it's already begun to return. He sighs as he rests his hands on his hips. There's no getting rid of these feelings, is there? This isn't a somewhat simple matter where he can pull his revolvers out and shoot at the thing that's eating him up. This is something new, something that he can't just run away from, though this isn't the first time he's run away from his feelings. Micah knows that if the situations were reversed, that you'd come running over to let him cry into your arms. And as much as he wants to, he doesn't want those feeling to begin controlling him again. Before Micah can make a decision, his feet are already pacing over to you. It seems he was set on his decision the second he saw you like this, and he was only stalling to try and prepare himself for those feelings to return. Micah clears his throat, catching your attention. "You alright?" he asks with that drawl, though he knows what your answer is. A pair of glossy eyes look up to meet his, and Micah feels his heart beginning to melt at the sight. "Sweetheart," Micah sighs without realising, settling down beside you. "I'm fine, Micah. Really," you tell him as you wipe your eyes, letting your legs settle and no longer be bunched up against your chest. "Now, I know that ain't true," he shakes his head. "What's a matter?" he asks. You give your eyes another rub as you clear your throat. "Y-you ever think you're alone in this world? Like, I know I ain't technically alone, but I sure do feel it," you tell him without hesitation, knowing that Micah is the kind of person who can relate. The other camp members would begin to tell you how many people are here for you, trying to reassure you, and although that's a kind gesture, it's not the one you're looking for. Micah, on the other hand, knows what true loneliness is like - to have nobody but yourself, and to be like that for years on end. Maybe you were two sides of the same coin. His ears perk up at your words, surprised that you felt such a way. It tugs on his heartstrings, an organ that everybody doubts Micah has, but you're the only person who seems to remind him that he does have a heart after all. "I know what that feels like," Micah says with a laugh. "I'm surprised you feel like that, 'specially with being the camp's favourite," he continues, his eyes flicking out at the water before returning back to you. "I wouldn't call myself that, I'm no Arthur. I know I fit in just fine, but there's only so much a group of friends can do, you know?" "Oh, I don't exactly know how that feels, sweetheart. But I understand what you're feeling. You're lonely-lonely, ain'tcha?" Micah asks, and doesn't seem surprised when you nod in agreement. "Mhmm," he hums, "I know how that feels." "Ain't you ever had someone be sweet on you before, Micah?" you ask him. Micah can't help but laugh a little at your question, assuring himself that you know what his answers going to be. "Course not," he replies somewhat confidently, though he doesn't seem proud with his reply. "I'm surprised," you tell him. Micahs eyes flick over to you like a spooked owl, uncertain if he heard exactly what he thought you said. "You're what?" Micah questions, his face relaxing as he tries not to look a wide range of negative emotions, ones that he'd rather not show. "I'm surprised. I know the camp doesn't exactly like you, but you've always been so kind to me. You've helped me out on more than one occasion without me asking for it, you'll carry my ass during a gunfight, and you always seem to give to me but never take. Hell, you're here comforting me now when I'm certain some folk would have pretended not to notice me," you tell him. Micah has to dip his head a little as you speak, covering his eyes with the brim of his hat. You can tell that nobody has ever said such words to him, though he's doing a good job of suppressing that sickness inside of him, preventing it from coming up to the surface to show you just how soft he is on you. He's meant to be a rugged outlaw, a man that kills and robs for fun, when really he feels like a child at Christmas whenever he's near you. "Guess that's what friends are for, huh?" Micah replies, trying to keep his gaze hidden and his eyes forward. "Yeah," you nod, moving your eyes over to the scenery. You can't help that a lone tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, a leftover from earlier, but Micah looks at you from under the brim of his hat at just the right time to see it escape. You've done a good job at suppressing the loneliness inside of you for so long, but every now and again, your emotions get the better of you and you just need to let it all out. "Hey," Micah says as he sits upright, reaching out to wipe the lone tear from your cheek without thinking about it. "You still got some left inside of ya?" he questions, to which you nod in agreement. "You need a shoulder to cry on?" Micah asks, his stomach turning at the thought of you finding comfort in him. He's expecting you to brush it off, to say you're fine, but instead, you're nodding again and shuffling closer to him. At first, you simply lean against his shoulder, your cheek and temple pressed against his red shirt. You cling onto his arm like a nervous child, letting your tears flow once again. Micah's trying his best not to feel sick; he's never had somebody find comfort in him before, even though you're only clinging onto his arm, but it's enough to soften his heart and cloud his mind. A choked sob escapes your lips and Micah finally snaps at the sound of you in pain. Without thinking, he scoops you up, pulling you onto his lap and holding you tightly against his chest. There's a brief pause from you and Micah's certain that he's finally done it - he's finally stuck his foot into a door that should be closed, but his mind eases out as your arms wrap around him and your head buries deeper into his chest. The feeling of your tears against his skin makes Micah hold his breath, eventually letting it out slowly as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He's not quite sure what to do with his hands; one rests on your waist, whilst the other begins to trail up and down your back, comforting you in an uncertain way as he's never done this before, but he seems to be a natural as you find peace in this storm of a man. Micah hears you let out another choked sob and he holds onto you a little tighter. "Let it all out," he coos in a voice so soft that it could send a lamb to sleep. He's taken aback, not knowing he had such softness inside of him. Micah has to hear that tone again, to remind himself that he has that ability to be so gentle. "I'm here for ya," he says, the words slipping out of his mouth. The faint sound of a "thank you," from your lips finally melts Micahs ice-cold heart. And to think, this time yesterday he was pacing around his camp, telling himself over and over that he wasn't going to let 'any damn woman' turn him into such a mess. Maybe he could make an exception? Well, he knows he can because he already has. You take your time, letting out all the tears you have left. It feels nice to have somebody comforting you, especially as it's someone you weren't expecting. Everybody needs to cry sometimes, and you're sure Micah knows that far too well. Within time, you feel yourself calming down. Your lungs and muscles begin to relax, your breaths becoming longer and deeper, and your eyes are no longer glossy. You continue to take comfort in the man wrapped around you, holding onto him a little tighter as you move your head from his loosely buttoned shirt, up to the curve of his neck. His beard brushes over your forehead, but his cheek eventually rests against it as his body relaxes. This is a feeling that Micah could definitely get used to - the feeling of you snuggled up to him, your body fitting perfectly against his like a two-piece puzzle, even though he's struggled to put the pieces together for so long. That sickly feeling in his stomach is slowly settling, moving up his body and burning in his chest, though he prefers the burning over the sickness. "How're you feelin'?" Micah asks you, giving your back another gentle rub. "I'm getting there," you tell him. "Got a headache now though," you say with a slight laugh. "Must be dehydrated, though it's good you let them tears out," he replies. "You want me to go fetch you a drink?" Micah offers. He'd rather sit here with you in his arms, but he'd put your needs over his wants any day. "You've done enough for me, lettin' me cry all over you and soak your shirt," you say with a laugh. "I should probably get to bed anyway," you sigh, not wanting to move though you assume Micah is sick of you crying all over him by now. You're definitely mistaken. "C'mon then. Let's get you to bed," he says, his voice still as soft as earlier. That softness is intoxicating, a gentleness that you've never seen before; it urges you to hold onto him and never let go, but you force yourself off him, shuffling away so Micah can slowly get up onto his feet. You give your eyes another rub and as you open them, Micahs hand is out waiting for you. He helps you up and almost seems reluctant to move his hand away, but he forces himself to, not wanting to cross any boundaries. He walks you back to camp. It's silent for once, surprisingly peaceful as nobody is up drinking, singing, telling stories around the campfire. Micah urges you to get to bed whilst he fetches you a drink and you do so, scooting into your enclosed tent. "Here," Micah says as he crouches down in the entrance and hands you a cup of water. You gulp it down before thanking him, filling your body with the water you'd lost during your breakdown. "Now get some sleep. You must be exhausted," Micah coos. He's about to stand up and leave you to it, but you call out his name. Micah turns his attention back to you, a pair of sad eyes in the darkness of your tent. All he wants is to crawl in and settle down beside you, sleeping peacefully for once, but only because he doesn't feel like he needs to keep his guard up around you. "Thank you," you tell him again, a lot clearer than your sobbed manners from earlier. "S'alright, darlin'," Micah replies with a small nod. He flashes you a smile before finally getting up and leaving, letting you enjoy a well-needed rest. Micah trails over to his usual spot by the campfire. That feeling of whiskey in his blood is long gone by now; the shock of seeing you in such a state must have sobered him up, and he doesn't feel the need to pick up another bottle and begin wrestling those emotions again. He's somewhat content, though he fears that this was just a chance encounter, that tomorrow you'll be back to being the camp's favourite member to flirt with, and he'll have to stand on the sidelines and watch but be too scared to take any action. However, Micah feels calm enough to get some rest, even if it is just letting his head dip and having a snooze on this uncomfortable chair. It's better than nothing, and he knows he'll be awake before anybody else, preventing them from seeing him in his most vulnerable state. If only you had asked him to stay. Micahs mind becomes clouded with the thought of curling up beside you. He'd rest however you want, cuddling or not; he'd even be happy if you turned away from him or just used his body for some extra warmth. Micah wants to tell himself off, to slap himself around the face for being so desperate for your affection, but he'll allow himself to dream about such things just for tonight. The thought of settling down beside you sends him to sleep, with his hands resting on his stomach and one ankle crossed over the other.

By the River (din djarin x reader)

Rating: If I’m going off of AO3 shit then this is t, but there is a tiny lil paragraph of imagined sexiness.

Word Count: 4.3k!

Excerpt:  “Maybe. But I must admit I’m worried. I care about you, is all.” You watch the water rather than watch him. His helmet reflects back at you from the surface of the water and you realize that you are doubly removed from him, by the helmet and through reflection. The thought is dizzying, but his touch is more so. Slowly, as if he’s afraid you’ll reject his touch, Mando leans toward you and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. It forces you to look at him rather than the water. Your breath catches. Somewhere your brain supplies the thought that, if he were any other man, without a Beskar helmet covering his face, this would be the point that you close your eyes and allow him to kiss you. You do close your eyes, then; a relaxed smile falling over your lips. You can’t kiss him, but you can imagine it.

Other works in this series: a mandalorian hello and soft hands.

A/N: Idk if I need to preface my work with this warning anymore but uh........the screencap is a nightmare. sorry about that folks. Also, if you’ve been following this series (i.e. read the first two installments) this one takes place before part 2. Consider this... part 1.5. I couldn’t stop thinking about what episode 4 would be like with the reader character so... here we go. This also contains a very small portion of borrow dialogue from episode 4, and I’ve changed the way some things went down for the purpose of AU fiction. Enjoy!

Sorgan: no star port, no industrial centers, no population density. The perfect triad for a hiding spot for you, Mando, and the Child. At least, according to Mando it is. You aren’t much versed in the art of hiding and bounty hunting, but you know he is, so you trust his instincts. So: Sorgan.

           “I’m gonna go out there and I’m gonna look around,” the Mandalorian says, pulling his gloves over his hands. “do you want to come with me?”

           The question throws you and you’re quiet for so long that Mando turns to face you, lifting your chin with the tip of a gloved finger.

           “Is that…okay?” You ask, leaving your lips parted in confusion. Mando never asks you to explore a planet with him unless he’s been there before.  He’s very particular, usually rattling off some version of Stay with the kid until I know it’s safe, then disappearing for a few hours before returning with news of a room and food. But now…now he’s asking.

           “You’ll be with me,” he says simply, letting go of your chin and turning away to open the hatch. You follow mutely until you feel a tug on your dress and see the Child beneath you, one little green hand fisted in your dress, the other reaching up for you.

           “Can we bring him?” You ask, knowing he’ll probably say no. I can’t watch the both of you, you imagine him saying, or if something happens to us we can put him on lockdown. But he does nothing of the sort. He pauses, hands on his hips and head cocked slightly to the left, staring at the both of you. Then he says Okay so quiet that you aren’t sure you’ve heard it or if you’re imagining things. But he turns and begins walking away so you assume you’re meant to follow, picking the Child up and following him out the door.

Trouble finds you immediately, because it’s Mando, but you figure that, if anything, an ex-shock-trooper was a good person to get into trouble with. Better than Imperial, you rationalize. Cara Dune is dangerous and stunning in the way that Mando is: she radiates power, but she looks like she’s kind where it matters. It’s hard to be scared of her when she smirks and jokes and swings an arm over your shoulder at the village. You hadn’t realized how much you missed female company until you had it, and though Cara isn’t similar to the women you kept friendships with on your home planet, she still has a feminine energy that you’d sorely missed.

“So, Mando…” Cara says, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “He your bodyguard or something?” Your washing clothes in the river, Cara kneeling beside you. You’ve been in the village for a few days, Mando and Cara deciding how best to go about taking down an AT-ST. You turn to look behind you and find him leaning against a tree, arms and ankles crossed, staring in your direction. You raise a hand and wave at him. He waves back.

“Why do you think that?” you ask with a small smile. Cara huffs.

“He hovers. And stares. Guys don’t do that unless they’re watching for something.”

“He’s just protective,” you say, which doesn’t really answer Cara’s question of what you are to each other. “I’m his… babysitter.” The sound that comes from Cara’s mouth can only be described as a laugh and a choke.

“Whatever you say,” says the ex-shock-trooper, lifting herself up from her sitting position and brushing her knees. “Ah Mando, you can have my seat.” Then she disappears.

Mando takes the spot next to you, albeit closer than Cara was sitting. You pause in your work to look at him. He’s watching you, body leaning toward you. You have his full attention.

“Babysitter, huh?” He says, moving his arms so they rest on his knees, “Is that how you’d… describe us?” His voice comes out a bit muffled, sharp. He’s speaking through a smirk, you can tell. The knowledge of that makes you smile broadly. He’s teasing you.

“I don’t really know how I would describe us,” you say sincerely, setting your washing aside and turning your body to face his. “Babysitter isn’t wrong, necessarily.” He hums in response, low in his throat. You turn from him to look at the water, watch the ripples dance. It’s peaceful, birds chirping loudly from the branches of tall trees, a light breeze drifting by. It gathers enough force to lift your hair, causing a lock to fall from behind your ear into your face. “I’m worried. About the AT-ST,” you say, and you know you’ve caught him off guard when he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’ve handled worse,” he says but you know in your heart this isn’t true. Mando wouldn’t suggest the village pick up and move for no good reason. If the original plan was to run, then that’s because it’s the smartest choice. Thinking about him going up against something that’s been known to kill hundreds of soldiers at once is terrifying. You know he’s strong, the strongest man you’ve ever known, but you worry.

“Maybe. But I must admit I’m worried. I care about you, is all.” You watch the water rather than watch him. His helmet reflects back at you from the surface of the water and you realize that you are doubly removed from him, by the helmet and through reflection. The thought is dizzying, but his touch is more so. Slowly, as if he’s afraid you’ll reject his touch, Mando leans toward you and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. It forces you to look at him rather than the water. Your breath catches. Somewhere your brain supplies the thought that, if he were any other man, without a Beskar helmet covering his face, this would be the point that you close your eyes and allow him to kiss you. You do close your eyes, then; a relaxed smile falling over your lips. You can’t kiss him, but you can imagine it. With closed eyes, Mando’s shoulder touching yours, you can imagine him leaning into you, hand on your waist, lips on your –

You are, quite literally, splashed out of your thoughts with cold water. Your eyes shoot open as water drips from your hair into your eyes. Mando shakes his glove, which is soaked and dripping, over the river. You squeal.

Mando chuckles, which snaps you out of your daze and gives you the courage to give him a taste of his own medicine. Something sinister must pass over your eyes because Mando begins to rise, struggling to stand after sitting for so long.

“Oh no you don’t,” you say, sticking your entire forearm in the river and practically tossing water at him. You mostly get his legs as he stumbles backward, losing his balance and landing on his ass. That makes you laugh. You’re struggling to hold your giggles in, crawling over to the dazed Mandalorian. “Are you okay?” you ask, voice filled with mirth. He doesn’t respond, which makes you crawl closer, afraid he’s hit his head. “Mando?”

He reacts faster than you could have predicted, launching himself up, grabbing ahold of your waist, and lurching you into his arms. “What are you –“ as he makes his way to the water, you know his intention. “Wait, Mando, no! I’m sorry, okay!” Though you plead and beg your voice is full of humor, of longing. It would be very inconvenient to be soaking wet right now, but there are worse things. And you don’t mind being held by him. He carries you right to the edge, practically holding you over the water while you cling to him for dear life.

“Put me down, Mando!” You shout on the tail end of a laugh.

“Down? You sure?” He loosens his grip on you a bit, bringing you close to the water. The bottom of your dress touches the water. Your arms tighten around his neck. You burry your face there, too.

“If I go, you’re coming with me,” you threaten, squeezing his neck for good measure.

“I like those odds,” he assures you. Your eyes widen at that. Would he seriously jump in this river just to get you wet?

You don’t get to find out. Cara returns at that moment, blaster in hand. She startles when she sees the state the two of you are in, dripping water and giggling. You blush.

“The villagers are ready to learn to shoot. You gonna join us?”

“Yes,” he replies statically, immediately dropping you to your feet on the riverbank. He’s all business now, rolling his shoulders and turning to you, nodding at the clothes you’d been washing. “Leave that here. I want you to practice, too.” When he talks to you like that, all authoritarian like, what choice do you have?

You beat the AT-ST. And the rival village. You’d won at a cost but won all the same. It took a few days to clean up the mess but after a week it looked as though nothing violent or exciting had ever happened. Just a regular village on a small planet in the Outer Rim.

Weeks passed. The Child fell in love with the other children, the attention. You can tell in the widening of his eyes and the perk in his ears. He was happy here. So were you. But most importantly, so was Mando. You expected Cara to bolt after taking down the AT-ST but, to your astonishment, she stays. Her presence is an added bonus in your life, not just for yourself but for Mando, too. The two get along well together; there’s a bond between them that you figure comes with being a soldier and you relish in that fact; glad he’s found someone besides you that he’s comfortable sharing with.

           “So what’s with the flower?” Cara’s sitting back in a rocking chair on Omera’s porch, hands folded haphazardly over her chest. The Mandalorian stands, arms and ankles crossed, watching you play with the children.

           Mando doesn’t answer, head tilting down and toward her slightly as if he were confused by the meaning of her words. Cara rolls her eyes and waves her hand in your direction.

           “The girl. I get the kid, but… why the girl?” He returns to watching you, contemplating her words. You’re sitting on the ground, two children in your lap and a third next to you, playing with your hair. The Child wanders in aimless circles around you as you speak quietly to the children, a look of secrecy on your face. All at once the children’s eyes leap to the Mandalorian and giggle, immediately turning their faces into your shoulders when Mando catches them looking. You smile and laugh to yourself, looking up at the Mandalorian and smiling at him, wiggling your fingers. He doesn’t return the gesture, but he does nod his head to let you know he’s watching. “Are you two screwing or something?”

           Mando jumps a little and curses, whipping his head to face Cara.

           “No.” He says the words with an edge of finality, leaving no room open to pry. Cara does so anyway.

           “You’re telling me you don’t want to get to know that beautiful woman in more than one way?” Cara asks, eyebrows creeping into her hairline. “Because if it were me –”

           “Cara,” he says, and that makes her stop. His tone is… not warning, but it’s close. But when Cara turns to look at him, he isn’t looking back at her. He’s looking at you, and Cara can only guess the expression on his face under the Beskar helmet but she imagines that it’s longing.

           “Oh,” she says, nodding her head and taking a sip of spotchka so she doesn’t have to speak, “that’s – wow, okay.”

           “You can’t –” he starts to say, but Cara is already shaking her head and waving her hand at him.

           “I won’t,” she promises, and the conviction in her voice holds truth. Mando figures it’s a soldier thing, falling for someone in your platoon and keeping it a secret, for the good of the rebellion. He imagines Cara’s kept a lot of secrets like his in her lifetime and knows with certainty that she won’t repeat it. “But why can’t you?” The Mandalorian sighs, slow and deep, the sound tinny when filtered through the modulator.

           “My creed,” says the Mandalorian, and though it is a sufficient answer for him it is not for Cara Dune.

           “What do you mean?” she asks, brows furrowed. “What happens if you take that thing off? They come after you and kill you?”

           “No. You just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara flounders, looking at the Mandalorian with a mixture of pity and awe.

           “That’s it? So you can slip off the helmet, settle down with a woman you obviously care about, and raise your kid here, sipping spotchka? Why the hell not?”

           The Mandalorian is silent for so long that Cara figures he isn’t going to respond, figures she’s pushed too hard and upset him. In reality, Mando plays her words over and over in his head, trying to find an answer. He watches you with the children, smiling and nodding and spinning. Your long dress sways with every movement, makes you look shorter. He knows the emotion desire, has felt it in his lifetime when looking at a dangerous woman with a blaster. When he sees you, though, he doesn’t want to fuck you, helmet digging into your shoulder, dress bunched up high on your thighs. He wants to lay you down gently on his cot, helmet long forgotten, and place gentle kisses on your collarbones. He wants to whisper naughty things in your ear, only after he’s told you how beautiful you look. He wants you to whimper and sigh and call him Din. He wants to make love to you, gently, slowly. He wants to love you. Why the hell not?

           “I… wouldn’t know how,” is his response, several minutes later. It’s not the response that Cara was expecting.

           “You have time,” she says, nodding at you and the Child. “You stay here, you’ve got all the time in the world. Your whole life, really.” Cara’s smile is playful, but when she turns to the Mandalorian his posture has gone stiff and his arms are crossed over his chest.

“I’m leaving,” he says quietly, so quiet that Cara almost misses it. “I don’t belong here. They do. Traveling with me, that’s not a life. That’s a sentence.” You’re standing now, wrangling the kids who are shouting Swimmy! Swimmy! As they strip their clothes and run toward the riverbank in their underwear. A male member of the village approaches you in small swim shorts, speaking quickly and excitedly. You nod and point your thumb back at the Mandalorian, which makes his shoulders and chest tighten impulsively. Cara’s eyes widen and her jaw drops slightly, but before she can comment you’re making your way over to the two of them, a spring in your step. You pull yourself up onto the porch and grab one of Mando’s hands.

           “Hey,” you say sweetly, voice dripping with honey. “Come swim with me.” Refusing is one of the hardest things he’s ever done, he imagines, but he soldiers through. He shakes his head once and taps his index finger against his helmet, deflating your spirit a bit, but you don’t let go of his hand.

           “Enjoy yourself,” he says softly, nods at the Child as well, “don’t let me slow you down.”

           “Never,” you reply, brushing your thumb over his gloved knuckles, “I’m sure you could outswim me, even with all that metal.”

           “Where you go, I’ll catch you,” he says and then recognizes the significance of his words but doesn’t take them back. He thinks how, this time tomorrow, he’ll be gone from this planet and you’ll be here with the kid, alone. He supposes he’s making himself into a liar, but even knowing that he’s leaving, he still finds the statement to be true.

           Your breath catches in your throat and you blush, cheeks and ears turning a ruddy pink. You figure if you’d touch them, your face would be warmer than the heat off the Sorgan sun. Needing a distraction from Mando’s heavy gaze, you turn to Cara.

           “What about you Cara? Interested in a swim?” Cara’s mouth is still ajar but once you give her your attention she snaps it closed.

           “I…” she says, elongating the sound “think I’ll sit this one out. But thanks.” Her smile is tight and forced but her care for you is genuine. You smile and nod, making to step down from the porch before you make a noise of remembrance in the back of your throat.

           “Mando,” you say sweetly, turning your back on him. You wrap your hair around your fist and pull it over your shoulder to expose your back. “Can you untie me, please?”

           Mando turns beat red under his helmet, stares at your back for much longer than is appropriate. Cara lets out a strangled sound in the back of her throat that he’s sure is a stifled laugh. Taking a deep breath, the Mandalorian reaches shaking hands up to the ties of your dress, slowly pulling apart the knots he’d made that morning. He remembers your bare shoulders and clavicles on display, hands holding up your dress just enough to cover your breasts, shrouded as they were in your undergarments. I thought I could tie it up myself, you’d said, giggling, would you help me?

           Now, you slip the fabric down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. You step out of the garment, flinging it over your shoulder. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be,” you say, flashing the two of them a smile before picking up the Child and following the villagers the short distance to the river. Mando watches you unabashedly, knowing you can’t tell, follows the line of your legs as they take you away from him. He catches Cara doing the same.

           “You’re gonna break her heart,” Cara says, shaking her head. “Maybe your own, too.”

 He eventually comes looking for you. It’s been hours, and most of the villagers have come back from the river with smiles and loose shoulders. Not you, though. Even the Child is here, playing with the other children under the watchful eye of Omera. He asks her about you and she smiles, points in the direction of the river. Where you go, I’ll catch you, he thinks as he makes his way through the forest. Then he sees you.

           You’re in your underthings, like before, but now they’re wet and cling to your figure like a second skin. He can see your nipples through the fabric. Your hair is wet and slicked back due to the water. He watches you do a lap from bank to bank, completely unaware of his presence until you see him and smile.

           “Mando!” you say happily, disbelief in your voice. “Come to join me?”

           “Come to check on you,” he says, making his way to the bank. He sits right on the edge, legs stretched out, leans back on his haunches, “you let the kid go off alone.”

           “He’s with Omera,” you say gently, “pretty safe to me. Unless you… disagree?” You’re sure his tone was calm but an apology sits on your tongue all the same. He shakes his head.

           “I don’t.”

           You nod at him, rest your chin on your arms, folded over the riverbank. You allow your eyes to close, exhausted from hours spent in the sun. It’s Mando’s company, really, that allows you to relax so easily, lulled into a trance by the energy his presence carries. It’s so… peaceful here; so different from what you’re used to. Your life with Mando wasn’t violent per say, but the affect Sorgan had on Mando was astonishing. His shoulders loosened more every day, he spoke to strangers more, he… put down roots. And you were setting yours, too.

           “Mando?” He doesn’t respond, but his head perking up lets you know he’s listening. “I really like it here.”

           “I know,” he says, and for some reason he sounds sad.

           “The Child likes it here. You do too, don’t you?”

           “I do.”

           “Could we…” you trail off, afraid that if you vocalize your desires they’ll slip through your grasp. You want so badly for him to set aside the life of a bounty hunter, to have the life you know he deserves. Bounty hunting might be the only life he knows, but maybe you can teach him something new. You reach your right hand up to grasp his forearm. “Could we stay here, do you think? You, me, the kid. You could start over, raise him. It would be… a good life. Wouldn’t it?” You’re staring into the slit of his helmet, like you always do when speaking to him, but in this moment it feels as though you can sense his eyes.

           “It would,” he says, voice full of longing. He shifts his hand so that he can grasp your arm, too, both of your holding onto the other’s forearm like a promise. He wants so desperately to tell you that you can, he will. He’s wanted this for so long that the possibility of it makes him stop. He doesn’t deserve this. But you do.

           And then comes the gunshot. It pierces through the air sharply, lodging itself into the water inches from your body. You yelp in surprise, not recognizing it for danger. Mando does.

           He doesn’t have his blaster. It’s the first thought that runs through his mind. In the weeks of peace he’s become soft, unaccustomed to danger. He’d left it behind with Cara, not thinking he’d need it. He doesn’t think much about his course of action, the only thoughts running through his head being no weapon. He has no way to fight off the attacker. So he does the only thing that makes sense: he jumps into the river, grabs the back of your head in one hand and your hip in the other, and plunges you both into the water. You have just enough time to suck in a lungful of air before he drags you both down.

           Two more bullets whiz into the water while the two of you hide, holding your breath. He’s got your body tucked into his, chests plastered together, your head under his chin. His grip is so tight it hurts, sure you’ll have finger-shaped bruises on your hip. Your lungs are burning in protest and you aren’t sure how much longer you can stay under for when Mando drags you both up for air again. His head snaps back and forth, looking for your assailant.

           “Hold your breath,” he says quickly, pulling you even tighter against him as he prepares to plunge you both back into the water when Cara Dune’s voice echoes across the forest.

           “Got him!” she cries. She sounds close and after a few seconds you can hear her running footsteps. “Mando? Where are you two?”

           “Here!” You call and cough, lungs sore. Mando immediately looks to you sharply.

           “Are you okay?” he asks, putting you at arm’s length so he can inspect you. You nod but the sensation makes you woozy. He helps lift you back into the bank but you don’t move, lying on your stomach instead. Mando lifts himself out of the water just as Cara makes her way to you.

           “You guys okay?” she asks once she’s close enough. You lift yourself up on your arms and nod, still struggling a bit for breath. Mando leans down to grab your arms, helping to hoist you to your feet. You’re mostly okay, but the movement makes you woozy. You lean against him, one hand on his shoulder for support.

           “Yes.” He says.

           “I found this,” she says, holding up a tracking fob. The sight of it has your heart sinking. “Who’s he tracking?”

           “The kid,” you say, sorrow in your voice.

           “Then they know he’s here.”

           “Yes,” Mando says.

           That’s that, really.

             The goodbyes are painful. You know you shouldn’t have, but you’d started to build a life here, on Sorgan. As you pack away your things you think of how, this time yesterday, everything was perfect. To think this hurts your heart, though, so you focus instead on the packing.

           “Are you sure you don’t want an escort?” Cara asks, all smiles and gentle teasing. You know what your answer would be, but it’s up to Mando.

           “I appreciate the offer,” he says, “but we’re gonna bypass the town and head right to the Razor Crest.” Cara nods.

           “Well then, until our paths cross,” she says, offering him her hand.

           “Until our paths cross,” he repeats, taking her hand in his. Now, Cara turns to you.

           “Look out for the bucket head,” she says with a smirk, “he seems a little in over his head.”

           “I will,” you say, voice so genuine that it catches you off guard. You surprise yourself even further when you grab a hold of the woman and bring her in for a hug. It’s a little rough with all her armor but soothes you all the same. “Take care of yourself, Cara.” She smiles and nods, looking a bit awkward, but pleased. Mando helps you onto the little carriage and then follows suit, sitting next to you. As it takes off and the villagers begin to wave in unison, a feeling of immense sadness begins to overtake you. You swallow thickly as your eyes begin to mist. Mando shifts and you feel his hand grab a hold of yours. You blink up at him, giving him a forced, wet smile. He squeezes your hand.

Another Page

Summary: Belle doesn’t go looking for love, but that doesn’t stop love from finding her. A 5B Divergence ‘verse snippet. Rated G. ~3.7K. Also on AO3. 

~~~~~

A/N: I’m back! Remember when I threatened to pair Belle up with someone plucked from literature? This is that fic. I just really want her to get a happy ending, okay? 

Super thanks to @snidgetsafan for helping me come up with this and plot it, and then beta-ing last minute. Seriously, she’s the best. 

Tagging the interested parties/those I’ve been whining to: @thejollyroger-writer, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @profdanglaisstuff, @optomisticgirl, @ohmightydevviepuu, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @scientificapricot, @aerica13, @welllpthisishappening, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @teamhook, @winterbaby89, @katie-dub. I’ve probably missed folks, but I don’t even remember my own tag list anymore. 

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

The unfortunate truth is that it was probably always going to come to this - Rumple waging war on Storybrooke. Today, Belle and her unborn son are just an excuse.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel guilty that other people have been dragged into it.

She barely even knows the man who has been asked to guard her inside the library as David and Robin hold down the proverbial fort outside and Killian, Emma, and Regina face Rumple elsewhere. Well, at least she barely knows him personally; his literary reputation, small as it is, has preceded him. 

Colonel James Fitzwilliam, commonly called Fitz. Young, courteous, and handsome (or so she’d say if she were looking, and didn’t have a million other concerns on her mind). She knows he arrived with the rest of the inhabitants of the Land of Untold Stories almost 2 months ago now, doing his best to keep all his compatriots organized and calm amongst the chaos of their arrival (Rumple’s doing, of course, and Belle should have seen it earlier as the distraction tactic it had been). All he’d offered as his reason for stranding himself in the Land of Untold Stories was a desire to escape all the expectations his family had placed upon him; Belle supposes she can understand that. Whatever the case, he seems… honorable. Level-headed. Capable of endearing himself even to Emma and David, enough for them to recruit him into their fledgling sheriff’s department and assign him to watch over Belle as her ex-husband does his best to tear the world apart outside to try and seize her back into his grasp and control. 

“I really am sorry,” Belle says softly, and not for the first time. 

“I can’t imagine why,” Fitz says mildly as he peers out the front windows. Things are blessedly quiet here for now, but that will undoubtedly change at any moment. 

“This is all my fault.”

Fitz turns back to face Belle. “Perhaps I’m mistaken - I was under the impression that the Dark One was responsible for this current…  tension, shall we say.” It’s kind of him not to say attack, even if that’s a more accurate word; she could do without that particular reminder. “Are you actually the rampaging maniac I’ve been warned about? Because if so - I must say, madam, that your rampaging needs work.”

He says it lightly, as a joke, but Belle has trouble finding the humor in it. “The maniac wouldn’t be, as you say, rampaging if it weren’t for me. He’s doing this because he thinks he can steal me back.”

“That may be so,” Fitz shrugs, “but from everything I’ve heard, he would have found another reason to strike. The only difference would have been your compromised safety, and I can’t believe that you believe you deserve that. Let alone your child.”

“But maybe if I hadn’t been so willfully blind - if I hadn’t been so quick to trust that he’d changed — ”

“There’s no use fixating on such things,” he tells her firmly. “Maybe things would have been different; maybe they wouldn’t have. But you wouldn’t have your child if things didn’t happen the way they did, and I have to believe that your son or daughter will be a bright spot to come from all of this.”

“Son.” Fitz’s brow wrinkles in confusion at Belle’s declaration, and she abruptly remembers that he’s still so new to the Land Without Magic that he doesn’t know yet of all its new technological capabilities. “There are machines now that can tell before the baby is even born. It’s a boy.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiles. “This realm will never cease to amaze me, I’m sure of it.”

“It is wonderful.” Inside her belly, the baby moves and kicks, as if he knows they’re discussing him. 

Fitz gentles his tone for a moment. “You deserve that, Ms. French. Every bit of happiness that little boy will bring to your life. I know this is all a mess, but he came from it too, and no one blames you for a moment. You shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

Belle blinks back tears at his kindness, choosing to focus on the easiest bit of it. “You know, after all this, I think you should call me Belle.”

“Belle, then,” he smiles. “Well, Belle, I think this will all be over soon, and you’ll have so many good things ahead of you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

——— 

All things considered, it’s a very good day. 

Sure, bits of her body she didn’t know were capable of pain are sore, and no one has ever claimed that hospital beds are comfortable, but Belle has a son now. And he’s perfect. 

Her greatest fear in all of this has been the prospect of having to do it all alone, but if the last hours are any indication, that’s not something she has to worry about. The people of Storybrooke had seemed determined to collect her and her son into the fold, starting with Emma and Ruby holding her hands throughout and a parade of friends (who just might be family now) coming to check on Belle and meet little Gideon. 

(It’s a little fanciful, she knows, to name the baby after one of her favorite books, but Belle has room for a little fanciful in her life. Besides, she’s determined that her son be all the “handsome hero” that she needs.)

Of all the people she expected to drop by, however, James Fitzwilliam isn’t one of them. He looks very out of place in the hospital - this tall, solid man, who shuffles his feet as if he’s not sure how to act in this setting. 

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he hazards, but Belle waves him off with a cautious smile.

“You’re not intruding at all,” she assures him. “There’s been several visitors today. It’s rather nice, actually.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiles back, before thrusting a bouquet towards her. “These are for you.”

Belle thumbs at the soft yellow petals, delicately. “Daisies,” she murmurs.

“Sheriff Swan’s son seemed determined that roses would be a bad idea. These looked… cheerful.”

“They are, thank you.” Bless Henry for his advice; roses are still tainted for her, at least for the moment.

“I take it this is the little one?” Fitz asks, nodding towards the cradle at the side of her bed. Her son lies inside, happily asleep, lips making little sucking motions in slumber.

“Yeah, that’s him. Gideon.” Belle can hear the soft awe in her own voice, but finds no reason to temper it. 

Fitz bends over the cradle for a closer look. “He’s a handsome lad,” he decrees with a wide smile. “I see a lot of you in his features. You must be very proud.”

“I am. Thank you.” Truthfully, she sees a lot more of Rumple in her son, but they’re comforting words to hear all the same. Gideon will grow to look like his own person in time, anyways. 

“I know you must be tired,” Fitz says, “but I wanted to drop by, just for a brief moment, to congratulate you. Especially after our little adventure holed up in the library,” he winks. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?” 

Belle nods, and Fitz nods back, almost like a nervous tic.

“Good. Well then, I’ll be…” he jerks his head towards the door. 

“Thank you for stopping by,” Belle offers. This has been a bit of an odd visit, but cheering, somehow. 

“Of course.” Fitz is nearly out the door before he turns back around to say one last thing. “I’m happy for you, Belle. No one deserves this more than you do.”

And then he’s gone.

(The flowers don’t last forever, of course, but Belle takes care to press one between the pages of a book to preserve it just a little bit longer.)

———

Belle has never been much for "going out", whether by circumstance, inclination, or lack of invitation. It seems like she's been rushing, rushing, rushing, ever since she first stepped out of the asylum beneath Storybrooke Hospital and into the town proper. There's been monsters and demons and death and criss-crossing the realms and a baby, of all things, but little to no going out. Belle could probably count the instances on one hand.

But there's high reason to celebrate this time. Emma is finally getting married, after all, and Ruby has arranged a bachelorette party. Belle is a little wary about any Ruby-planned event, but at the same time, she's excited. It'll be nice to have a little break, to experience the concept of a "girl's night" for herself.

It's less clear how she ends up asking Fitz to babysit. Truthfully, it would have made more sense to leave Gideon with Killian and Charlie, or David and the rest of the Charming brood, or even with Granny. Gideon is so very fond of the colonel-turned-deputy sheriff, however, which is probably why Belle finds herself asking the favor without any prior thought.

(She's rather fond of him herself, she must admit. In the past few years, their acquaintance has strengthened into a strong friendship, built upon morning breakfasts at Granny's and his easy willingness to assist at the library whenever she needs and quiet movie nights in her apartment below the clock tower when she just needs some low-key adult company. Fitz is always there, with his easy going smile and his gentle sense of humor, happy to help and never asking more of her than she can give.)

(More and more lately, she's found a new kind of excitement and nerves brewing whenever Fitz is around, but Belle is doing her best to ignore those feelings.)

"I'm sure you must be busy on a Saturday night, and I know it's a lot to ask - it's perfectly fine if you say no -" she'd rambled, but Fitz had cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm and a warm smile.

"It's really not a problem," he'd assured her. "I'd be happy to watch the boy."

Sure enough, Gideon had squealed with glee and rushed across the room with all the boundless energy a boy just shy of two years old can possess as Fitz had appeared in the doorway. His giggles had filled the room and warmed Belle's heart as Fitz had swept her son up into the air and upside down. 

"Go have fun," he'd said. "We'll be fine here."

And she does have fun. There's dancing, and drinking - so much drinking - and plenty of laughter. Belle just might like this going out business; she's certainly not opposed to a repeat sometime, if they can arrange it with all of their wild schedules. There'd been passing concerns throughout the night about how Gideon is doing, but she trusts Fitz with her son. She's sure they're having a lovely time, and Gideon is long since sound asleep. 

She expects a quiet home after climbing the stairs to the little flat above the library - which is more treacherous than usual with her balance compromised by the combination of a variety of brightly colored drinks with ridiculous names and high heels - and she's not surprised to find it. What's more surprising is to see both Fitz and Gideon curled up on the couch with the tv playing softly in the background, her son plastered to the older man's side. 

It's such a simple, domestic little thing, to see how comfortable Gideon is with Fitz; it shouldn't affect her the way it does. Gideon is a trusting child, anyways, by some miracle of fate, immediately everyone's best friend. What really melts her heart is to see the protective arm Fitz has slung around his waist and the soft smile he wears, even in sleep. He's happy to be here, just existing with her son in the heart of their domain. It's jarring in the best way, near revolutionary. 

She loves him, she realizes in that moment - loves the way he's always there in his unobtrusive matter, that he fits into the little family unit that she and Gideon comprise. The problem is that a friend can do those things too, and even if Belle knows her own feelings, she can't speak for his, and her heart is still too fragile to try.

She tries to pry Gideon out of Fitz's arms as gently as she can to properly put him to bed, but Fitz wakes up anyways as his arm falls away.

"Sorry, darling, we got a little caught up in a movie," he whispers with a sheepish smile. Belle tries to ignore the way her pulse picks up at the little endearment, though she can’t help but sway - a combination of her drunkenness and a sudden surge of emotion. Fitz’s hand quickly flies out to brace and steady her, pulling himself to a sitting position as he does so. "Do you need any help?"

"That's alright, I've got him." By some miracle, her whisper doesn't shake as it trickles out. "Thanks for doing this."

"It was my pleasure, truly," he assures her, prying himself off the couch. 

They stand for a quiet moment, just staring at each other. Can he feel this same tension, these same feelings? She's not nearly bold enough to ask; maybe he can just see it in her eyes.

But no such luck. "I'll let you get to bed then," he says to break the silence. "I'll see you tomorrow? A late breakfast, perhaps?"

"Tomorrow," she agrees. "Goodnight, Fitz."

"Goodnight, Belle."

Even if he doesn't live here, the apartment feels emptier without him in it. 

——— 

Fitz comes by every morning to help Belle with the outdoor book drop, rain or shine, 8:30 AM, unless he’s ill or caught up with some kind of inescapable deputy business. He’d started after Gideon was born, when it seemed like half the town had taken a turn helping her out at the library when she was exhausted with her newborn and still couldn’t lift any weight. Nearly four years later now, it’s their routine, and if pressed, Belle will admit that she treasures these minutes they share each morning, retrieving books, checking them back in, and sorting them back out at the circulation desk. If he has time, Fitz often even stays to help shelve them.

(There’s something especially touching about the way he so carefully handles each volume every step of the way, especially knowing that he’s not much of a reader.)

Belle needs his help more when the weather is accommodating, but she loves watching him on sunny days like this, where the early sun shines in his hair like burnished gold. He’d cut his hair a couple of years back, and as fitting as the short ponytail at the nape of his neck had seemed, he’s impossibly handsome with his hair cropped short at the sides and just long enough to bounce and swoop at the top. 

(She’s got it bad, truly, and none of the bravery required to act on it.)

Maybe the sun on his hair hypnotized her. Or she finally just burst with feelings in a display of foolishness. Whatever the case, even as Belle feels like she’s watching a car crash in slow motion, she can’t stop her mouth from blurting out words like some terrible word vomit.

“Ruby thinks I should start dating,” she declares suddenly. Like that was even remotely a thing she planned on saying.

(It is the truth, at least; Ruby does think she should start dating. The fact that Ruby thinks she should start dating Fitz is the real crux of the issue at hand.)

Maybe anyone else would miss the way that Fitz stutters for a moment, his entire body freezing up before he continues unloading books. Then again, Belle isn’t most people, and she’s almost painfully aware of his every breath and movement after nearly five years spent dancing around one another.  It gives her a bit of hope, that maybe she isn’t quite so alone in this pining. “And what do you want, Belle?”

She shrugs casually before reaching in beside him, their arms brushing along the way. “I’m not really sure, truthfully. Gideon and I have always been fine by ourselves.”

“But?” 

“It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To have someone to care for me like that,” she replies wistfully. “It’s easy to feel a little lonely, when everyone else around here seems to have found their true love, their person.” Are you my person? Would you ever want to be?

“You’re not alone, you know.” Fitz’s voice is almost too casual, like he’s trying to conceal something else. 

“I know.” She lines the books up neatly on the cart as an excuse not to meet Fitz’s eyes, spines facing upwards. “I’ve never really done it before, though. Dating. Or even really proper courting like we might have done in the other realms. There was nothing really ordinary about what happened between Rumplestiltskin and I. There was a little in between when Rumple was banished beyond the borders, and I tried to move on, but… Will was never properly much for dating. A quick drink and kissing behind the bar? Yes. Courtship? No. Maybe it’s foolish, but I’d like to at least try. Be taken to dinner and pampered a little. I think I deserve that.”

“You do,” Fitz tells her gently, prying her hands away from where they’ve been nervously alphabetizing. “And it’s not foolish.”

“I don’t know that anything will come of it,” she says, blushing in the face of his compliments. “I’m a bookish single mother with enough baggage for a world tour. That may be too much for many men.”

“But you do want this? Dating? That’s a step you’re ready to take?”

Belle inhales, gathering her courage in a great breath before nodding. “I do.”

Fitz visibly swallows, as if he’s got his own nerves. Still, he squeezes her hands where they’re still clasped in his. “Then I’d like to be the first to take you to dinner. If you like.”

Belle can feel a smile start to spread across her face, her eyes crinkling as her mouth catches up. “You’d want that? Truly? Not just to be kind?”

“Truly,” he nods. “And very much. I’ve been terribly smitten with you for a long time, Belle, but I never wanted to overstep my bounds. I didn’t want to be some pushy bastard so soon after everything he did.”

He doesn’t need speaking. It’s terribly considerate of Fitz, and maybe even necessary. After all, it brought them here.

“Would it be horribly forward of me to kiss you?” Belle murmurs, stepping further into his space as happy, anticipatory butterflies take flight in her stomach. 

“Maybe,” he smiles back. “But I say we make our own rules.” 

“Then I’d very much like to kiss you.”

(And reader - she does.)

———

“Darling, could you spare a minute?” Fitz calls from the bedroom. “This tie is giving me trouble.”

It’s such a simple domestic request, but it still sends little flutters of happiness through Belle’s veins. Even after three years together, and four years before that as friends, Fitz is still ever inch the gentleman in every way. Loving him is warm, and gentle, and comforting. Loving him is home, in a way she hadn’t realized was possible.

Home these days, at least in the physical sense, is no longer the little apartment above the library, but a cheery yellow bungalow on a quiet street lined with lush trees. It’s a good place for Gideon to grow up, with a peaceful backyard and kids just next door right around his age, but it’s a perfect space for the three of them to grow, too - her, Gideon and Fitz. There’s space for a small study lined with bookshelves, and a spacious bedroom for a young boy to make his own, and a bright kitchen for family meals - not to mention, a master bedroom far enough removed from young ears at the top of the house in a converted attic space.

Climbing those stairs now, she finds Fitz fiddling with his necktie in the full length mirror they keep along one wall. It doesn’t look like he’s struggling that much with the garment, but it is lovely to see the way he practically lights up when she walks to him. 

“Now I know you’ve had to deal with much more complicated neckties than this,” she scolds lightly, reaching for the silk ends. “You just wanted to see me.” 

“Guilty as charged,” he admits with a smile. “But can you blame a man for wanting to see his wife, especially when she looks so beautiful?”

(That’s a welcome change, too - a ring and a white dress and so many other promises that she’s confident, finally, will be honored as a personal gospel.)

“Kiss-up.” Still, she blushes. 

“Just honest.” He leans in to softly kiss her forehead, perfectly in reach with Belle lifted up on high heels. 

“Nervous?” she asks, pulling the last loop of fabric through and down.

Fitz shrugs. “Not particularly. It’s just a formality, really. Why, do you think I should be?”

“Not at all,” she smiles back, tweaking his lapels for good measure.

And he shouldn’t be. Because this really is a formality; just a piece of paper. Fitz has been Gideon’s dad for years, happily, and both her boys had been ecstatic when she suggested they make it official. Today is just the day that a judge makes it official, with a small party with their friends to follow. 

“I love you,” Belle murmurs. It’s still wonderful even to say the words - a warmth and a peace that suffuses her entire soul.

“And I love you,” Fitz echoes back, leaning down for a brief kiss. It’s not anything particularly involved, but that’s nice in it’s own way - comforting, a promise that there will always be time for more and later and anything they want. 

It has to be short, too, because Belle can already hear feet pounding up the stairs. “Are you ready yet?” Gideon demands. His soft brown hair has somehow been tamed into submission, and she’d wrestled him into a nice shirt just before Fitz had called her upstairs. 

“We’ll be down in just a moment, bud,” Fitz tells their son. “Go ahead and wait by the door, we’re right behind you.”

As the footsteps rush back down the stairs, he offers her a chivalrous arm. “Shall we, darling?” 

“We shall.”

The rest of their life is waiting, after all. 

Tephra 02

Hello! Here’s the next thrilling instalment, hope you enjoy the banter as much as I do! :)

POV: YN Warnings: None this chapter, mostly intro stuff Word Count: 2.2K Rating: PG

Master List

Tephra 02

When Imogen told you Prince Namjoon of Atlas had been searching for you in the mage courses by name, you nearly spit out your drink. It's not like you had forgotten about him or anything. Who could forget dimples like that? I mean, really. It was more like you didn't typically associate with people from any of the four kingdoms outside the Min family. 

"What do you think he wants?" Imogen asked you over dinner. 

"Who knows, it's not like I'm anything special." You grumbled, finishing off the food on your plate. 

"You're kidding, right? Did you forget you're the youngest addition to the Academy's guard ever?" Imogen scoffed. 

"You should stop bringing that up. The last formal training I had was when I was ten. The fact that anyone thinks I'm qualified is embarrassing." You rolled your eyes.

"So what is all my night time training to you? Chopped liver?" Imogen smiled as she spoke, spinning her fork around in the air. "Besides, who's embarrassed?"

"All of the old cranky ass guards who worked for years to hone their magical skills to defend the Academy from the invisible powers that threaten us all." You said in a mocking spooky tone. 

"You're not wrong. Did you see General Karp's face when Lady Cecilia offered to promote you to Captain of the Evening Forces?" Imogen let out a roaring laugh at her memory. 

"I'm still saying it had to be a prank. The Headmistress is an air mage by nature. Seriously, we're always out on night rounds. Just because I've caught a few shady individuals lurking around the gate doesn't mean I need to be in charge of my own task force." You poked your fork at your tablemate as you tried to make a point. 

"I don't think she was kidding. You're a great mage, YN, and you lead your peers with this weird calm I've only ever seen in TV dramas. Your skills were obvious last month."

"Are you talking about that landslide again?" You asked, exasperated, deciding not to pick fun at her terrible choice in behavioral reference. "For the last time, we didn't do anything special. The royal family of Atlas and friends already had over half the trench built by the time we got there."

"You're right, but there's no way they would have been able to hold that line alone. They also didn't think to make it deeper while it was filling up, did they? That was all you and Tessa." Imogen stated, looking snarky as she sipped on her tea.

"See, the key there is Tessa. You really think I could have blown that much earth around without focusing on projectile boulders if she and the others hadn't been there." You argued back.

"I do. Even then, you proved my point. Teamwork, you got the stuff of leaders, kid." Then she paused. "Wait, YN."

"What?" You looked up at Imogen, concerned with her tone.

"Prince Namjoon mentioned in his report of the situation that he had narrowly escaped a flying boulder!"

"Yea, and?" You pressed her, trying to find out what Imogen was so excited about.

"Was that you or Tessa?" She asked, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"So what if it was me?" 

"YN! He's been out looking for you for over a month! What if he feels indebted to you and wants to make you an offer?!" Imogen leaped up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the table. "Something to repay that debt, the people of Atlas hate debt!"

"Don't most people hate debt?" You deadpanned. "Would you stop with the wild fantasies? You're supposed to be my guardian."

"Exactly, I'm your guardian. I told your parents I'd take care of you, and if that means marrying you off to a prince of Atlas, then so be it!" Imogen's voice grew in enthusiasm as she pressed on. 

"There are so many reasons why that's not going to work, and you know it. Did my folks know you were clinically insane before they put me in your care? Does the Academy know one of their professors is straight out of the looney bin?" You asked, trying to hide the amusement in your voice. 

"Nope, nobody knows I've escaped." Imogen winked. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?"

"Not until I've graduated, I still need that free tuition." You replied, holding in a laugh.

"Is that all I am to you? A ticket to free education!" Imogen put a hand to her chest and feigned hurt as she flopped back in her chair.

"That and my pseudo-mom."

"You're not allowed to get sentimental with me after being rude." Imogen snapped at the comment, a gentle smile on her face. 

"Whatever you say." You rolled your eyes and collected your empty plates from the table. 

"So, what do you want me to do about the prince?" Imogen asked. "I can only deflect his questions for so long before he sends someone more powerful digging around."

"I don't know." You tipped your head as you put the dishes in the sink. "Find out what he wants first, I guess."

"That I can do," Imogen exclaimed. 

---

The school had a strict curfew. It was how they ensured nobody knew about your class and the inner workings of the Academy. Technically, Spiros was a refugee city, despite it's long, illustrious history. 

As the story goes, Neith the Great Mother descended from the heavens adapting to the life of human's already present on Sias. Those born of her newfound flesh and blood were known as The Children, and together they shared their knowledge and godlike powers with humanity. As time went on, The Children grew in strength and popularity, each now a god in their own right. With power came struggle, and when they fought, so did the humans who followed them. 

The conflict immediately led to a hundred-year war, resulting in the fracturing of the continent and its people. To keep the peace, Neith separated those with magic into four territories and left her home open to all seeking refuge from her children and those who sought to harm them for their perceived powerlessness. 

In the years of peace that followed, the Academy was built to educate those who resided in Spiros safely. They brought in people from all walks of life and the different territories to balance out the curriculum. This angered one of The Children, the daughter Opis who with the help o hr followers sought revenge. During the ensuing battle, Neith perished, the four kingdoms established themselves as they are now, and Spiros was taken and divided into sections to be jointly ruled and controlled. 

One could say that for the past four hundred years since the end of the original conflict, all the four Kingdoms had fought for was a place to dump the underprivileged, unwanted, and their country's political adversaries. As such, over the years Spiros had developed into an eclectic city, one that you'd always really enjoyed visiting so it wasn’t so bad living here. It was a place heavy in multiple cultures, lifestyles, and most importantly the food. 

Your parents had been sure to teach you all about the world when you were little. Spiros, in particular, had always made your dad smile. He had explained to you that nearly eighty years ago, the Adyan Empire was trusted with the duty to appoint a new Headmistress for the Academy. Fortunately, the Royal Min family chose a bishop from The Church of Shango. She was a kind and thoughtful woman who prioritized her students' wellbeing and growth before all else. Not only that, but because of the Adyan Empire's ongoing situation, the Academy's top brass bent the rules to accommodate the common folk of Spiros. 

As stated in the peace treaty, refugees and those exiled were not to participate in the use and learning of magic of any kind. You had been told by Imogen years back that the Academy read the laws and decided it didn't mean the children of those who had been exiled, since they were technically born as people of Spiros, instead of refugees of another country. For that reason, the Headmistress decided to educate the commonwealth, leaving magic training until the students of Spiros could be protected by the cover of darkness and away from prying eyes.  

When the time came to appoint a new Head, the Arabeillan Alliance chose Lady Cecilia. Not only had she figured out what the previous Headmistress had started all on her own, she found it so delightfully tricky that learning was allowed to continue uninhibited. She also did her best to make sure Spiros students were as trained in magic and combat arts as those from the four nations.

The air mages had always freaked you out. On top of never being able to see their attacks coming, they were capable of a host of inhumane magic that you had to trust they didn't use out of sheer benevolence. For that reason alone, you had joined the guard when Lady Cecilia told you to. Aside from Cecilia's wickedly psychic abilities and her probably having a reason for instating you, you didn't want the air ripped out of your lungs anytime soon, which is precisely how you found yourself here this evening. Staring at the gate, wondering why being on guard duty was so sought after. 

Seriously, you could be in class learning, but no; According to Lady Cecilia, there wasn't anything more for you to learn in the courses here. Since you couldn't get her to explain what she meant by that, you did as you were told and stood there. Technically it could be worse; the job could be exciting, which just meant it was unnecessarily dangerous, and you didn't need that, not when there were still things you needed to do.

With curfew having started only a moment ago, you waited in silence, watching the sunset. It was that perfect time of the year where you got a show of sherbet skies just as your shift started. It was excellent and made up for the monotony of your guard duties. Though maybe you shouldn't have been so concentrated on the sky since the door was now slowly creaking open, and you were not ready. 

"Halt!" You projected, "Who goes there?"

"Who goes there? What is this? A bad period movie?" You recognize that voice.

"Yoongi, seriously, what are you doing using the main door? There are much better ways to find me, yanno?" You sighed as your friend stepped towards you.

"Oh, I know, but he doesn't." Yoongi gestured to the man now standing behind him. "This the one you're looking for?"

Even though there wasn't a verbal answer, you'd recognize those dimples anywhere. "Long time no see Namjoon." 

"Interesting," Yoogi remarked.

"What, he didn't like 'Your Princeliness.'" You shrugged as you relaxed back into your position. "I'm just following orders."

"If you say so." Yoongi snickered as he turned to the second prince of Atlus. "Welp, she's all yours. I'm off."

"You're not going to stay?" Najoon asked.

"No, why? Do I need to?" Yoongi quirked an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

"No! I just- how am I supposed to get back without getting caught?" Namjoon continued his questioning.

"That's my job now, dear. Unless you've got a problem with that?" You wondered aloud.

"No! Gods, why are you both so infuriating. You're clearly capable. I was just curious." Namjoon sighed as he rubbed the wrinkles out of his forehead. 

You stifled a laugh as you watched Namjoon work through his frustration. Once it was clear Yoongi had left, you turned your attention away from the door and out towards the town. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I uh, I wanted to say thank you." Namjoon bowed politely to you.

"You've been looking for me for this long just to say thank you?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"You knew I was looking for you?" Namjoon questioned back.

"Not really, just a hunch." You shrugged, trying not to give yourself away. "Yoongi did bring you here, which means you had to be visibly struggling for quite a while."

"That's a fair observation." Namjoon straightened himself out. "How do you know Yoongi, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We're related." You responded.

"That's a terrible joke." Namjoon sighed. "I should not have asked."

"So now that you've asked your more formal question, what do you really want?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm honestly not sure?" Namjoon responded, relaxing against the looming stone wall behind him.

"That's a terrible reason to break curfew and seek out a stranger." You chuckled.

"It is, isn't it?" Namjoon laughed alongside you. "I think I wanted to be friends?"

"You think?" You raised your eyebrows, intrigued. "I'll have you know I'm a great friend. There's not much to think about."

"You shouldn't wink. It's creepy." Namjoon's lips twitched up in amusement.

"Oh? What's this now?" You leaned forward, meeting Namjoon's gaze. "I know nobody in the capital taught you to talk like that."

"You'll find that I'm very well-read." Namjoon puffed out his chest as he boasted.

"Oh my gods, you do need friends." You laughed out loud, not hiding the smile on your face. "Answer me this, though, why me."

"Why not you?" at that, you stuck out your hand.

"Touché"

Erase the Shadow: 12

Summary: Despite sharing dreams with Teris for as long as he can remember, Aizawa Shouta never believed in soulmates.  That was until he met Teris in the real world on his first day at UA.  Trouble is, Teris doesn’t know anything about their shared dreams.  And the one time Shouta tried to tell her, he nearly lost her completely.

Five years after graduating from UA, Shouta still believes Teris is his soulmate. But things have only gotten worse.  Teris moved to another town shortly after graduation.  And now she’s dating his best friend Yamada Hizashi.

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027552/chapters/55261261

If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know. Since I post for free, think of it as nice way of leaving a tip.  And since comments are the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting, it’s also a benefit for you.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a VERY special thank you to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They REALLY mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 for their encouragement and friendship.  Also for them helping plot bunny this story out and reading through a piece of this chapter before its posting.  This fic was my personal guilty pleasure, and without them never be getting posted.

12.1

“Babe! Do you really have to go on patrol tonight?” Hizashi was getting ready to go to a party the radio station was putting on and was still trying to convince Teris to accompany him. “You’ve been livin’ here for almost a year and still haven’t met anyone.  Everyone at the station is startin’ to think you don’t exist.”

“I’m an underground hero, Zashi.  It’s better if people don’t know I exist.”  Teris replied from the en suite bathroom.

“But you wouldn’t be going as a hero, Babe!  You’d be going as my girlfriend.”

Teris pulled up the other bra strap and sighed at her image in the mirror.  She could hear the hurt hidden beneath her boyfriend’s cajoling whine.

Damn it.  Was she really that bad a girlfriend?  Why was it that she couldn’t go a single day without proving to herself and Hizashi just how terrible and unworthy she was of him?  It was a wonder he had stuck with her this long.  It wasn’t as if she were anything special.

As much as she didn’t want to meet a large group of loud, extroverted people, Hizashi was right.  She had been living with him in Musutafu for nearly a year and one of his greatest excitements, other than living and working together, had been that she would meet his friends and colleagues at the radio station.

Grabbing the dark grey shirt of her hero costume, she exited the bathroom.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

“Does that mean you’ll come?”

Teris gave a scoffing chuckle at Hizashi's theatrical pouting expression.

“Please, Ris Wren.  It’ll be fun.  I promise.  And if you hate them we can leave early and have the rest of Saturday night to ourselves.”

“I can’t, my Love.  I’m scheduled to do patrol.”

“So call in.”

“Eraser’s counting on me.”

Hizashi ducked and turned his head, hiding his frown.  “Eraser will be fine.”

“I have no doubt he’ll be fine without me. But he was gonna introduce me to this CI that’s apparently a wealth of information.”

Hizashi lifted his head, green eyes fixing on hers. “You’ve been working every other weekend with him for how long and you still haven’t met all his contacts?  Sounds like he’s holdin’ out on you.”

Probably so he can claim that there’s still a reason for you to do these stupid joint patrols with him, he thought sullenly.  He really should've pushed Teris harder on cutting down her patrol hours before Nemuri had the chance to suggest Teris and Shouta team up.

Teris stepped closer to him, explaining. “The underground doesn’t work the same as regular heroing.” Her hands trailed up his chest.  “People in that life are skittish. It takes time for someone new to prove themselves and gain their trust.  Honestly, I’m surprised Shouta got this woman to agree to meet me so quickly.”

Hizashi perked up at that.  “Woman?”

Teris rolled her eyes.  “Oh.  Now he’s interested.”  She gripped his shirt and tugged him closer. “You’re taken.  By me.  Remember?”

“I remember that greatest top hit every millisecond of the day, Ris.” His arms snaked around her waist, knees bending to better line up their hips.  “But, Eraser? Working with a woman?”

Teris tired to ignore the tiny swell of jealousy at the thought of Eraserhead working with another woman.

She fiddled with his shirt collar.  “I wouldn’t call it working. She’s a CI.  It’s not like she does jobs with him.”

“Still...” He kissed a trail from her cheek to her neck, rubbing his semi-hard cock against her. “Don’t CI’s usually require payment for their information? And not always in cash.”  He nipped at her neck.  “I wonder how he pays her.”

12.2

Hizashi's words stayed with Teris as she walked with Eraserhead down a narrow pass through between buildings.

“We usually don’t meet at her place of work, but I think she wanted the extra protection the bouncers bring when meeting you.”  Shouta gave a small, sideways smirk expecting Shadow to scoff at the thought of her being a threat to a possible informant.

When she didn’t, his lips thinned.  It wasn’t that Shadow was distracted.  He would have called her out on that. But she had been distant since the first moment they had greeted at their usual meeting spot.

“What do you pay her in?”  Teris asked, softly.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, focusing on him out of her periphery. She didn’t want him thinking she was bothered.

Why did she even care how Shouta paid the dancer, come call girl?  He was a grown man and could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t as if he were her boyfriend.  No, she told herself.  But if the woman’s to become my CI, it’s something I should know.

That’s right, she reason.  She wasn’t asking because she was worried and jealous.  She was asking because the woman would likely expect the same sort of payment from her and she needed to know if she could, or was willing to deliver.

“Various things depending on the level of information and her mood.”  Shouta answered.

She wouldn’t even glance at him.  Had he done something wrong? He reminded himself that he was introducing her to a new CI.  One that had helped him with many a case, and could do the same for her.  It was logical that Shadow would be focused and not in the mood for friendly banter.  He shouldn’t read too much into it.

Teris’ thumb rubbed against the dull obsidian point at the end of one of the metal knuckles bars.  She carried two of them.  Each of the slender ‘u’ shaped weapons had one long end slipped in the front pocket of her black jeans.  The other long silver line merely appearing an adornment to the average eye.

Eraserhead’s words looped in her mind.  Various things depending on… her mood.

Would someone who was paid for sex want sex as payment?  She glanced at Eraser and swallowed.  She was with Hizashi.  She really shouldn’t care how Eraser paid his CI’s. She needed to focus, not wonder if this woman sought sex from Eraserhead as payment.

Would Eraser even agree to such a form payment if asked?  He didn’t have a girlfriend...

Stop it!  She silently scolded herself.

Shouta stopped in front of a door with no handle.  “We’re here.”

He looked at her, gauging her readiness.  Why did she look distracted now of all times?

“You ready?”  He questioned, lowly.

Teris tried to ignore his deep rumbling voice and inhaled deeply, staring at the metal door.

“Yeah.” She exhaled.

Shouta saw her focus return.  He waited a beat, making sure.  Finally he took a fortifying breath of his own and knocked the short coded beat into the door.

They were shown to a rather spacious dressing room.

For a moment Teris wondered about privacy, thinking the room was for all the dancers.  But she quickly took in the single vanity and comfortable lounge seating, and realized this was all for one person.

“Big Boy’s gonna stay by the door if that’s alright with you, Eraser.” Said a feminine voice from behind a dressing screen.

“Whatever makes you comfortable.”  Shouta said, his deep rumbling voice a stark contrast to the high sweet one that had just spoken.

Even her voice was lovely.  Teris quickly shooed away the troublesome thought.

She noticed the name above the vanity mirror.  “Your name is Delphin?”

“Eraser didn’t even tell you that much?”  The melodious voice questioned. “Why am I not surprised.  The handsome devil doesn’t easily give out information.  He only seeks it.  Yes.  I’m known as Delphin.  I took the name based off the pretty but deadly little flower cluster Delphinium.  And you are known as Shadow. Correct?”

“And I thought you said Eraser wasn’t good at giving info.”  Teris’ smirk cut short when a lacy bra was flung over the shielding screen.

She stole a glance at Eraserhead, upset at her own gladness when she saw his head tilted and lowered, black hair curtaining off any hope of a view.

“Oh, Eraser didn’t tell me.”  Delphin said, pulling a silk robe from the screen.  “You were clocked the moment you moved into town. Well, at least the moment you started patrolling here. Your darkness quirk had quite a few folk worried.”  She stepped out into view.  “They thought you were working for this Void that some are whispering about.”

Teris blinked at the woman.  She was… beautiful.  Hell.  If Delphin asked her for sex as payment she, at the very least, would be tempted to consider it.

Delphin glanced at Shouta, red lips turning up into a smile.  “But when you started working with Eraser here.  Most peoples concerns were put to rest.”

Shouta lifted his head.  “Most?”

“Come now, Eraser.  You know people aren’t won over so easily.  New opinions take time to form.  Trust must be earned.” Delphin caught the slight pinch of worry in the Erasure Hero’s brow.  “You can’t make everyone fall in love with Shadow.  No matter how cute she is.”

The furrow between Shouta’s eyebrows deepened a fraction, but a fraction was all Delphin needed.  This would be fun.

“Come. Sit.  Let me and your partner get acquainted.  Delphin looked the female pro hero over as they all made their way to the small sitting area.

She was a pretty thing, even in dark grey and black with no make-up. Delphin could tell her clothes weren’t picked for the purpose of flattering.  But since they fit properly, unlike Eraserhead’s baggy garb, the hugging jeans and cotton, scoop necked tee definitely did flatter her heroes body.

“So this is who you’ve been ignoring me for, Eraser.”  Delphin saw the barest tightening in Shadow’s shoulders.

Oh. This was definitely going to be fun, she thought.

Shouta opened his mouth to reply that Delphin hadn’t left any messages on his work voice mail saying she had information worthy of a meeting. But before he could make a sound she went on.

“Not that I blame you.  Pretty, new hero comes to town.  No doubt you’ve been showing her everything Musutafu has to offer.  Tell me.  How just how well do you two know each other?  How deep does the partnership go?”

Teris stared. Was this woman capable of making every sentence she spoke have a sexual connotation?  She’d hate for Delphin and Hizashi to meet.  The two would no doubt have a blast trying to out do each other.

“That’s not your concern.”  Shouta told.

“Protective, are we?”  Delphin played, her laugh as clear and beautiful as a crystal.

Teris had never felt so dull and ugly in her life; and given all the reprimands she received as a child about her habits and state of dress, that was saying something.

“You know I don’t tolerate personal questions.”  Shouta stated, without emotion.

“Oh! So your dealings together are personal are they?  Should I be jealous?”

“I don’t see why.  Our contact is work based and both party’s can end the deal at any time.”  Shouta said of his and Delphin’s agreement.

Delphin’s sparkling eyes raked hungerly over him.  “But one can derive so much pleasure from work, Sugar.  Wouldn’t you say?”

“I find fulfillment in my work.”  Shouta admitted.

“Do you find fulfillment working with me?”  She asked, voice as smooth as silk.

“You provide good information.”  Shouta replied, oblivious to Teris’ rising ire.

It wasn’t that he didn’t catch Delphin’s suggestive teasing.  He wasn’t an idiot.  But he was use to her ways and, tiresome as all of it was, at least Delphin wasn’t as blatant or forward as Ms. Joke.

“Only after sufficient, satisfactory payment, Handsome.”  She turned her shimmering eyes to Teris.  “Has he ever drilled you for information?  He can be rather ruthless.  Can’t he.  Then again I like at man who knows what he wants and is willing to work long and hard for it.”

“Are we gonna get to the point of this meeting anytime soon?”  Teris questioned, shortly.

Surprised by her sharpness, Shouta looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t like being ignored, Sweetness?”  Delphin asked.  “Then again I know all about Eraser and the point of tonight is to get a feel for you.  To decide if I like you enough to let you use me too.”

Shouta swallowed.  A flash of an image shot through his mind before he could stop it.  It made his blood pump with desire and possessiveness.

Shit. He knew how Delphin talked and teased.  Why hadn’t he thought that she would do the same with Shadow?  Not that being prepared would have made him feel any better about the woman talking to his Love that way.  Still, that didn’t explain Shadow’s annoyance with Delphin.

“It took me a long time to let Eraser tie me down and pump me for information.”  Delphin continued.

Teris gritted her teeth.  The woman was trying to toy with her.  No. She was toying with her.  Because you’re stupid enough to let her, she thought.  Some hero your are.  Letting a possible CI get to you like this.

If Delphin had been talking about any other hero Teris wouldn’t have cared. But Eraserhead was different.  Eraserhead was Shouta.  And Shouta was-- Not yours, she reminded herself harshly.

How is it that you don’t like it when Hizashi uses terms of ownership, but are sitting here wanting to claim a man that you have no right to try and claim?  Shouta's not your boyfriend.  He’s your boyfriend’s best friend.  You’re such a hypocrite.  You’re an idiot hero, and terrible girlfriend.

What kind of person desires their boyfriend’s best friend?  You don’t deserve anyone.  But you certainly don’t deserve someone as sweet and caring as Hizashi.  He was either blind or kind enough to date you in the first place, and here you are nearly three years in your relationship with him wanting Shouta.

Do you really think Hizashi would stay with you if he had any idea how you felt about his best friend? You sick, disgusting fuck.  No wonder your family didn’t want you. They might've said they disowned you because you wanted to become a hero; but let’s face it, they were looking for an excuse.  You were a disgrace of daughter.  Just like you’re a disgrace and despicable girlfriend.  You lost your name and your family to be a hero, and here you sit being a discredit to that as well.

“So tell me, Shadow.  What kind of hero are you?  You must be something special to get the normally lone Eraserhead to team with and vouch for you.”

Short as the meeting was, Shouta was glad when it was over.  He didn’t think himself a jealous person.  He had managed to tolerate Hizashi hanging all over Teris without hitting him yet. But Hizashi was his best friend.  And Delphin’s constant subtle sexual turn of phrase set his teeth on edge.

Shouta and Teris got to their feet.

Big Boy, who had silently stood at the rooms entrance, opened the door.

“Eraser. Stay a moment more if you would.” Delphin smiled, coyly.  “I have something special for you that you’ve been wanting.  Something that you’ll pay me real good for.”

Shouta glanced at Shadow, inciting Delphin to tell Teris.

“Oh, you can wait out in the hall or go get a drink at the bar, Sweet One. Big Boy will make sure they know it’s on me.”

The way Shadow paused and looked at him out of the corner of her eye told Shouta that she wasn’t keen on leaving him alone with Delphin.  But Shouta trusted Delphin well enough to be comfortable. He had been getting intel from the woman for a couple years.  He knew she wouldn't try anything.

He gave Shadow single nod.

Teris reluctantly followed the large Bouncer out of the dressing room.

As soon as the door closed Shouta questioned.  “What do you have?”

Delphin noted how he didn’t step back to the sitting area.  He probably didn’t want to leave Shadow alone out there for too long. A smart, all be it protective, move on the hero’s part.

She rose to her feet.  “You asked me to keep an ear out for this Void people are whispering about.”

Shouta’s eyes met hers as she stepped to him.

Despite his studied efforts, Delphin was able to see the hungry hope he felt for any sliver of information.  It wasn’t his fault.  Eraserhead was rather good at hiding his emotions.  He was excellent at it in fact.  It was one of the main reasons she continued their agreement.  He was a challenge that kept her people reading skills sharp.

“What have you learned?”  Shouta asked, not liking how she entered his space.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what this information will cost?  You usually do.”

“What do you want?”

“Since you brought me that cute hero to play with, and this is clearly something important to you.  Why don’t we call it even.”

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  “Even the smallest information costs with you.”

“Fine then.  Since you insist.  How about forgiveness?”

“Forgiveness?”

Before he could wonder what she wanted forgiveness for, Delphin kissed his stubbled cheek.

It was closed mouth and quick, but purposefully messy.

Shouta jerked his head back, scowling.

He didn’t step back or push her away; but the tension in his body told her that she had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.”  Delphin lied.

Far from pacified by her apology, Shouta frowned at her.

She stepped back out of his space. “It won’t ever happen again.  I promise.”

“If it does, our arrangement is over.” He told flatly.

Delphin swallowed.

Okay, maybe she had misjudged Eraserhead this time.  Yes, she had expected him to be upset; but she hadn’t thought that he would threaten to end their bargain.  He must’ve liked Shadow far more than she thought.

“I swear, Eraser.  I’ll be good.”  Delphin ducked her head and pouted, a contrite look that always worked on lesser men.

Shouta sighed roughly, well aware that she wasn’t truly sorry.  But so long as she didn’t do it again he would let it slide. Forgiveness was an easy price to pay for any information on the Void.

“What do you have?”

“Turns out that this Void has someone with a sleep or dream quirk working for them.”  Delphin told.

Shouta felt stupid that he had never considered such a thing.  If the Void had someone with a somnambulist type quirk working for him it would explain how he was able to enter his and Teris’ shared dreams.  He would have to look at the quirk registry and see how the various somnambulist quirks worked.  Maybe even met and ask Nemuri.  Though he would have to be careful if he did.  He didn’t want to chance Nemuri learning about and getting involved with the Void.

“I really am sorry, Eraser.  I know I overstepped.  I swear I meant nothing by it.”

Shouta’s neck stiffened at the memory of the pecking kiss.  “No need to mention it again.”

“If I get anything else I’ll call and leave you a message.”  Delphin promised, wanting to make amends.

Eraserhead was more than a fun visitor that kept her people reading skills well honed.  He was one of the few people she saw that didn’t want her for sex.  She doubted the man had ever looked her over with anything more than an initial appraising glance to make sure she was well and not a threat.

Shouta opened the door just as Teris got slapped across the face.

He rushed over to her, while another man pulled the attacking woman back.

“Fucking Slut!  He’s mine!  Bitch!  Get your own man and stay away from mine!”  The woman raged.

“You best leave.”  The Bouncer told, already crowding them in effort to usher them out the back door they had entered through.

Shouta wrapped a steadying arm around Shadow’s waist and led her down the hall.

Once outside, he stopped.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” In truth Teris was still dazed by what happened, but that wasn’t what Eraserhead was asking.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She lifted her hand to her stinging cheek.

Shouta grabbed her hand before she could touch and smear the blood.  He moved her to a small, low crate beside the door.

“Sit down.”  He helped her sit and squatted in front on her.  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’ve been hit harder, Eraser.”  Teris said, more embarrassed than hurt.

Shouta's heart squeezed.

He knew she had taken harder hits.  Much to his distaste, he had seen it happen during their patrols.  It was something that stayed with him.  Though he was able to lock the images and guilt that came with those instances away.

She looked down at his still holding hand. His skin was warm.  Fingers calloused.  Touch gentle but firm.  Just as she had imagined.

“Looks like the bleeding stopped.”  He commented, worried eyes focused on her cut cheek.

Her fingers began to close around his.  No!  This was wrong.  She pulled her hand out of his and tried to stand, but Shouta stopped her.

He had been about to apologize when she pulled her hand away, but then she started to get up.  “Stay.”

His hands hovered over her, afraid to touch her and cause further offense.

Teris’ eyebrows furrowed in question.

“We need to disinfect that.”  He explained.

“It’s a scratch, Eraser.”

“It still needs treating, Shadow.”

They stared at each other.

It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t backing down, so Teris gave in.

She relaxed and Shouta opened a pouch on his utility belt.  “Stubborn.”

The word was mumbled so softly that she questioned.  “What?”

“What happened?”  He asked, pulling supplies out.

She eyed him pretty sure that wasn’t what he said.  “Some guy started hitting on me.”

Shouta needlessly busied himself with the alcohol and antibiotic packets. “What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?  I politely told him I wasn’t interested.  And when he kept on, I told him to get lost.”

She normally would’ve said she had a boyfriend; but since she was on patrol, details like that were guarded.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“I can handle myself, Eraser.”

Shouta smirked at that.  He lifted a hand, tucking her hair behind an ear, better exposing the scratch on her cheek. “Sure looks that way.”

Teris rolled her eyes.

His hand remained.  Her hair was so soft.  Focus, he scolded himself.

His fingers trailed the line of her jaw.

Her eyes fluttered closed.  Try as she might to hold still, her head slightly tilted into his touch.

Not wanting to pull away, Shouta, used his teeth to tear open the alcohol swabs foil lined packet.  With his other hand, he pulled the swab free.

He caught her chin between his fingers and gently guided her face closer.  “You alright?”

She opened her eyes.  How and when did he get so close?  That’s right. He had moved her.  And like putty in his hands she had went easily. Too easily.

“Yeah.” She breathed.

Shouta's thumb lightly brushed beneath her lip.  “This might sting a bit.”

It was silly warning to give. Small as the scratch was its cleaning likely wouldn’t cause her any discomfort.  But he was doing everything he could to extend this moment.

She was so close.  He could feel her breath on his face.  It was the most glorious feeling in the world, to breath the same air.

“I’ll be fine.”  She whispered, eyes locked on his.

“Will you?”

Would either of them be fine without the other?  Everyday was more difficult than the last.  Try as he might to hide his feelings he couldn’t help but think he was failing miserably.

He had told himself that he would wait. That he would let Hizashi ruin things with her and then take his chance. But nearly three years later, Hizashi and Teris were still together.  He didn’t want to betray and risk losing his best friend, but…

A breeze ruffled Shouta's hair.

Something on his cheek, hidden by his dark, wavy locks, caught her eye.  A flash of color that shouldn’t be there.

Teris’ hand lifted, tucking back his hair.  For a moment her heart squeezed, thinking he had been hurt.  But the red was too bright.  Realization dawned.  Her heart clenched for a completely different reason.

At Teris’ contact, a soft groan sounded from the back of Shouta's throat.

It was one thing for him to touch her, but this…  That single touch felt so much better than he ever could’ve imagine.

Too soon, her hand pulled away.

She rose to her feet and stepped to the side.

“Shadow?” Shouta stood and stepped after her. “I’m sor--”

“You got lipstick.”  She muttered, unable to look at him.

Why did her heart ache so much?  She was with Hizashi.  She shouldn’t care.

Shouta heard the crack in her voice.  His hand raised to his cheek.  Delphin, he thought.  Her lipstick must’ve transferred when she--

“She kissed me.”  He tried to explain.

“Whatever you do with your CI’s is your own business, Eraser.”

“Shadow. No. It’s not like that--”

Her phone rang.

“I gotta take this.”  She said without looking at the screen.

Shouta watched her step further away.  He wanted to explain.  Wanted to tell her that he hadn’t expected the kiss.  That he hadn’t wanted it.

It turned out the call had been important.  One of her former students needed her help.

Teris quickly explained that the student would have graduated last year if it weren’t for the Hero Commissions order and that the young man said he was injured.  Lucky for them, he had moved to Musutafu soon after the Hero Commissions order and wasn’t far away.

Teris had tried to talk Eraser out of going with her, but Shouta insisted on accompanying.

He didn’t like the idea of her meeting anyone, even an ex-student, alone.  More than that, something about this wasn’t right.  Why wouldn’t the young man simply go to a clinic?

He had a feeling that Shadow wondered that same which was why she had fought so hard against him going.  But Shouta could be just as stubborn as Teris, and in the end the two were walking to the given address.

The walk gave Shouta time to think, and he came to a realization that excited him with gladness despite the circumstances.

“This is the address.”  Teris said, turning into a small run down apartment block.

The unlatched apartment door swung open at her knock.

“Sensei?” A voice called cautiously from within.

“Kiro?”

Teris entered, Shouta at her heels.

“Sensei! I—I’m sorry.  I heard you accepted a position at UA and didn’t know who else to call. I was wounded but can’t go to a clinic.  They’d ask too many questions.  I’m sorry, Sensei. Please.  Help.”

While the young man talked, Shouta gave the place a cursory check.  He peeked over the bar style counter-top into the kitchen, and then in the bedroom before closing apartment door and locking it.

“It’s clear.”  He told Shadow, who was already looking over the young mans injuries.

“Sensei. Wh—who’s that?”

“A colleague.”  Teris answered simply, urging the young man to sit. “It’s fine, Kiro.  What happened?  Why can’t you go to a clinic?”

“You’ve turned vigilante.”  Shouta stated, dark eyes on the young man.

Kiro stared at the man’s unfriendly expression.

Teris paused in her assessment.  “Kiro?”

“I—I—I’m sorry, Sensei.”

Shouta moved by her kneeling frame.  “Shadow. We need to leave.”

Teris turned and looked up at him. “What?”

“A former student of yours turned vigilante.  You can’t be here. You could lose both your hero and teaching license if they found out.”

“We can’t leave him.  He’s injured.”

Though he felt for her and the young man, Shouta's expression remained dispassionate. “Are his injuries life threatening?”

Teris’ sense of failure and concern for her student mixed with her earlier jealously at the lipstick on Shouta’s cheek.

“Are we heroes or not?”  She snapped.

She took a steadying breath.  This wasn’t Shouta's problem.  He could get in trouble just the same as she. He shouldn’t be here.

She turned back to Kiro, dismissing him. “You should go, Eraser.  I don’t want you getting in trouble over this. Leave. Please.”

Shouta ground his teeth, exhaling through the nose.  He had said she could get in trouble. He wasn’t concerned about himself.

“Help him.” Shouta told her, fighting a growl.  “You,” he pinned the young man with a brooding glared, “don’t say a word.  Unless you want to see your Sensei in trouble, don’t tell us what you were doing or how you got those wounds.”

Teris worked quickly.  As much as she wanted to ask Kiro questions, she didn’t.  Eraser was right.  The less they knew about what happened the better.

Soon she had popped Kiro’s dislocated shoulder back in place, cleaned and steri striped two deep, sizable puncture wounds, and wrapped an ugly looking burn after applying ointment from the small first aid kit she carried on her belt.

The moment she was done, Shouta had a hand on her arm, tugging her to her feet.  Once she was standing, he moved to the door unlocking and opening it.

“Thank you, Sensei.  I’m sorry.”

Teris looked away from the young man’s watery eyes and exited without a word.

She didn’t know why he had apologized to her.  She was the one who should’ve apologized.  She wondered how many other students of hers, effected by the Hero Commissions ruling, had turned to vigilantism. Had she failed all of them?

Shouta paused just outside the door.  “I’ll be right back.  Gotta use the bathroom.  Stay here.”

He left Shadow outside and stepped back into the apartment, closing the door.

Before Kiro could fully rise to his feet, Shouta was pushing him back down with a heavy hand.  He didn’t know what the young man’s quirk was, and doubted that he would use it, but his hair rose, eyes burning red as he activated his own quirk.

“You’re going to listen.  And listen well.”  Shouta rumbled, the barest hinting of the anger inside him edging into his voice.

Kiro nodded, fearfully.

“Lose her number.  Shadow’s not your Sensei any more. And when you find yourself in trouble again, don’t you dare think about calling her for help. Lacerations and dislocations will be the least of your worries if you do.  Understand me?”

Kiro nodded again.

“Answer properly.”  Shouta's hand tightened on the young man’s tender shoulder.

Kiro squirmed in pain, his hand futilely trying to pull Shouta's off.

“I’d answer fast.  Your shoulder’s about to dislocate again.  If it does, who won’t you be calling?”

“Teris Sensei!”

Shouta blinked, deactivating his quirk.  “I told you she’s no longer your Sensei.  Don’t make me repeat myself.  I don’t like it.”

He released his grip and patted Kiro’s throbbing shoulder.

“It wasn’t suppose to be like this.”  Kiro called after the retreating hero.  “I was suppose to be a pro hero.  The Hero Commission took that away from me.  Made me waste three years of my life.  I would’ve done whatever stupid test they wanted to prove myself so I could graduate and become a pro. Instead they said we all had to start over again.  As if private heroics teachers weren’t previously seen as qualified, and trusted to teach us. It isn’t fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” Shouta said, thinking that if it were Teris would remember their shared dreams and they would have been happy together since their days at UA. “Heroing is dangerous enough when you have support and back-up you can call on.  Being a vigilante might seem the answer.  But it’s not.  You have three options.  Find something else to do with your life.  Retake the hero course.  Or continue down this path and find yourself dead or in jail within the three years it would’ve taken you to redo the hero course.  The choice is yours.”

12.3

Their patrol time was almost over so Shouta decided to simply call it an end.

Teris didn’t put up much of an argument, proving just how upset she was. Though Shouta couldn't say if it was solely from learning that a previous student of hers had turned vigilante, or if it also had something to do with what he had recently figured out.

She liked him, romantically.  It was the only logical reason for her earlier jealousy.  And she had been jealous.  He would’ve been able to reason what he saw away if it had simply been Delphin’s word play.  He had done so before with various looks and touches Teris had given him.  But when she had seen the lipstick on his cheek…

Displeased as he was by Delphin’s pecking kiss, he was grateful for what it had brought about.  The sure realization that his Love loved him in return.

Sadly, the knowledge didn’t allow him the freedom to do anything about it. She was still with Hizashi.  But the fact that Teris wanted and cared for him gave Shouta hope that she and Hizashi might not be together much longer.

He told himself that he would have to tread slowly after the two broke up. He had suffered through the near three years of Teris and Hizashi's relationship because he respected both of them.  He didn’t want to lose his best friend.  He told himself that when he and Teris got together, he would mindful.  He didn’t want to rub his relationship with her it in Hizashi's face the way Hizashi had unknowingly done with him.

There was a subtle smile on his lips as he walked beside her.  Teris had told him he didn’t have to walk her home, but he had insisted. Even though their patrol had ended early, he didn’t want their time together to end.

“Do you think it’s my fault?”  Teris asked, voice cutting into his thoughtful planning.

Shouta’s eyes turned to her.

He took in her lowered head and slumped shoulders, and immediately scolded himself.  How could he be so selfish?  While he had been pleased and excited during their walk to her and Hizashi's apartment, Teris had clearly been blaming herself for the turn one of her former students had taken.

“No. Not in the least.”  He said, firmly.

Teris sighed.

She wasn’t sure what she had wanted him to say but that wasn’t it. One thing was certain.  If the ‘tell it like it is’ Aizawa Shouta was sparing her feelings, then Hizashi and Nemuri wouldn’t give it to her straight either. Not that she would readily tell them that a former student of hers had turned vigilante.

“Hey. Listen to me.”  Shouta reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping them in front of the apartment complex.

“Shouta. I just--”

He stood facing her, hands on her shoulders.  “People make their own decisions.  You can’t control them.”

No, she thought.  But I could have taught him better.  If she were half the hero ethics instructor Shouta was, than maybe--

“It’s not your fault Teris.  You didn’t buy and persuade the Hero Commission into making that decision.  You didn’t encourage Kiro to turn vigilante.”

No. But I could have done more than try to keep tabs from afar.  I could have called.  Checked in on him.  On all of them.  I just felt so guilty that I--

“Do you really think he would have told what he was doing?”  Shouta asked.

He knew her well enough to know exactly where her mind would go.  He knew that her favored private pastime was beating herself up.

Shouta's hand cupped her face.  “Look at me.”

He gently turned and lifted her head, waiting for her eyes to follow.

“How long have you known me?”  Shouta asked, when her gaze finally met his.

Silently he wished that she would say, for as long as she could remember; but he knew it was a silly hope.

“Near twelve years.”

“And in all that time have you once known be to lie to spare someones feelings?”

She shook her head.

But this was different, she thought.  Shouta had--

“Ignore that inner argument in your head and answer me, Teris.”

“No.” She swallowed.

“No what?”

“You’ve never lied to spare someones feelings.”

“Then, special as you are, why do you think I’d start now?”

“Special?”

If he hadn’t so recently realized her feelings for him, Shouta likely would have lamely flustered his way around the telling slip. Instead, this newfound knowledge gave him a surety with her that he had only ever shown in their shared dreams.

“You have no idea how special you are.”  He told, thumb caressing her cheek.

He wanted to go on.  To tell her just how amazing and special she was. How treasured and precious she was to him.  But he didn’t.  He had patiently waited this long for friendships sake.  He could hold out a little while longer till she was no longer with Hizashi.

At least that’s what he thought.

His mouth, on the other hand, had other ideas.  “You’re amazing, Teris.  Kind. Tenacious.  Generous.  Smart.  You bring people up.  Make them better.  You make me better.”  His cradling hand moved, tucking her hair behind an ear.  “I hate that you think so little of yourself.  That you can’t see how wonderful you truly are.”  His knuckles smooth down her cheek.  “You’re beautiful, Ris.”

He glanced down at her lips, and found her staring at his when his eyes lifted.

As if by some silent accord they both inched closer.

The tips of Teris’ fingers brushed the top of his hero costume.

Moving a bit more sure than her, Shouta's other hand slid down her arm.

Teris’ gaze met his.

Shouta tilted his head.

Her eyes fell closed, lips parting softly.

Shouta felt the first whispering touch of her lips.

Teris’ phone rang.

Her eyes snapped open.

She pulled back, cursing under her breath.

“Ter--” Shouta tired.

“It’s Hizashi.”  She said, taking another step back.

What had she done?  No.  She hadn’t done anything.  They hadn’t done anything.  But you would have, she thought.  If Hizashi hadn’t called.  You would have let him kiss you.  No.  She had been moving in just the same as Shouta.  It would have been a shared, mutual kiss.

Fuck! She was such a horrible girlfriend.  Shouta was wrong.  She was a terrible person.

“Teris. I’m sorry.  I didn’t...”  Shouta fell silent.

There wasn’t much he could say.  He couldn't tell her he didn’t mean it.  That would be lying, and he wouldn't lie to her.

Teris stared into Shouta's eyes.  Eyes that were filled with want and concern.  Eyes that likely mirrored hers.

She hesitated, wanting nothing more than to step back to him and bridge the gap between them.

The sound of Hizashi's ring tone stopped, his call going to voicemail.

“Shit.” She muttered, stuffing her hand into her pocket and taking out her phone.

She took another step back.  She needed to get away before she did something that couldn’t be undone.

“I--I gotta go.”  She said, turning away.

“Teris!” Shouta called after her.

He could’ve easily caught up with her hurried steps, but he didn’t give chase.

12.4

Hizashi wasn’t drunk but he had had enough drink at the stations party to feel good.  That good feeling evaporated the instant he turned the corner and saw Shouta holding Teris by the shoulders. Her head was down and at first he thought she was hurt or upset.

He had taken a step intent on comforting his girl but then Shouta cupped her face and…

Hizashi had watched in breathless heartache. Waiting. Hoping.  That Teris would slap Shouta's hand away.  That she would back away from him and leave.  But she didn’t.

Hizashi took another step, intent on pulling his girl to his side and challenging Shouta.  He wanted to yell at his  best friend. To hit him.  Teris was his girl.  And Shouta was his friend.  His best friend.  But his whirling mind thought better of it.

Teris was accepting of Shouta's touch.  Her sweet, beautiful face was moving closer to Shouta's at the same rate as Shouta's was moving toward hers.  She wanted Shouta to kiss her.  More than that, she wanted to kiss Shouta.

I think I’m losing her. The words he told Nemuri a couple months back floated through his mind.

Would this be how he lost her?  What if he went over there and blew up at Shouta for making moves on his girl and Teris pulled away from his side and moved to Shouta's?  What if him going over there and confronting this was what caused her to break up with him?  He couldn’t have that.  He couldn’t lose her.  He would come up with a way to keep her.  But first he had to stop this.

He quickly pulled the phone from his pocket and blindly called her.

He heard his ring tone echo across the quiet street as it played from her phone.

Teris pulled back.  It looked like Shouta was apologizing.  She turned and rushed away.

Hizashi was able to breath again.

He watched a left alone Shouta.  It looked like his friend was upset and berating himself.

Good. Hizashi thought.  Shouta should be mad at himself.

It was bad enough that Shouta had entered Teris’ dreams and had been caught watching his girl countless times.  But this…  To try to kiss her.

He wondered if it had happened before.

No. He told himself.  Teris would've said something.  She would’ve stopped patrolling with Shouta.  Her constant self deprecation and sense of unworth wouldn’t have allowed her to look him in the eye if she were seeing Shouta on the side.

Still, Hizashi couldn’t help but imagine the two of them hanging out, snuggled up together at some cat cafe instead of patrolling. Would they lay in each others arms in Shouta's apartment on Friday nights and listen to his radio show, laughing and making love to the music he played?

Hizashi shook his head trying to expel the image from it.  But it didn’t go away.  Instead it kept on playing.

Nemuri's advice echoed in his mind.   You should share her.

Could he share her?  If it meant keeping Teris he could.  He would do anything to keep her.  Shouta was likely desperate enough to go along with it.  But would Teris agree?

Damn it!  He didn’t want to share her.  Teris was his.

Then another thought came to mind, brought on by a different memory.

Teris had been having a sex dream and practically said Shouta's name.  Once awake, she had claimed she hadn’t remembered her dream.  Well I guess it couldn't have been that good. He had replied.

What if Shouta really wasn’t that good in real life? Hizashi had never seen Shouta so much as flirt with someone.  Shouta certainly had never had a girlfriend.  Considering how little the man went out and that Shouta had never hinted at any escapades, it was highly likely he was still a virgin.

Hizashi knew that he was a great lover even without his vibrating tongue. If he could show Teris that Shouta was a clumsy virgin fool…

A plan began to form.  And while far from pleased, Hizashi did feel better as he entered his shared apartment with Teris.

How Your Company Can Build Up More Twitter Followers

It's uncommon to consult with a company owner who utilizes Twitter but that does not desire more followers. Some might say that the numbers are not significant and they're just worried about"quality followers." But, it is generally the individuals who just have a few followers that make this debate.

As a company owner why do you want to have more Twitter followers? Here are 3 great reasons:

1. More followers deliver societal authority. The same as any other standing method, the greater your audience count, the longer individuals (your clients ) presume you're an expert-or at someone popular and interesting. It might not be legitimate, but it is how it functions in a universe where there's a rated list for all.

2. More followers expand the influence. Twitter is the best instrument for distributing ideas to a larger audience. When you have thoughts worth discussing, why would not you wish to disperse them as many individuals as you can? Twitter makes it incredibly simple to get this done. The bigger your follower depend, the quicker your thoughts will be shared and spread.

3. More followers contributes to additional sales. You are probably on Twitter for one of 3 reasons: To be amused, to community with other people, or even to offer your stuff. When it is a brand, a product, an agency, or perhaps a reason, more followers supply the chance to generate more prospects and much more conversions. It's a great marketing tool for most small companies.

Before I talk about you a few tips about the best way best to raise the amount of your Twitter followers, then I think it's essential that I need to let you know how to not take action.

Do not attempt to cheat the machine and attempt to get immediately draw in tens of thousands of followers instantly. If something seems too good to be true, then it likely is. Unless you happen to be a celebrity that has built a huge audience in a few other media station, bringing followers will take some time and effort however, the investment is well worth it.

What about purchasing followers? In the end, there are plenty of individuals promoting this type of service.

The very first reason you would not wish to do so is as it goes contrary to the Twitter rules. But worse than this is the simple fact that these so-called followers have zero affinity, link or interest in you or your company. It'd be just like your organization sending out a direct mailing for a un-targeted, generic listing. The listing could be unworthy.

Rather than employing these allegedly fast-track methods for building your own follower count, I wish to talk to you a few of my favorite proven means by which that you may receive more faithful twitter followers.

Engage and Inform

Twitter is about participation. It's a hectic and fast moving stage, and that means you have to make content that educates, advises, entertains or arouses your followers. This is sometimes carried out by sharing a fantastic mixture of articles, either your own and other individuals. Before long you'll construct a massive following of folks that wish to hang out together and accompany because they enjoy what you are saying or discussing.

Proudly show your Twitter button Hyperlink

If you'd like traffic to your site to accompany you around Twitter then be certain they can view your Twitter button connection. You need to help it become clear for them. Do not irritate the Twitter button in the base of your site or site page. Allow it to be notable and ask your customers to accompany along with you. If they're in your site they're definitely interested in knowing more about you and everything you need to say.

Place"Follow Me on Twitter" on your email signature.

On your email signature, then add a URL to a Twitter accounts. (An email signature is little bit of information which gets attached to the conclusion of the email address. Folks typically place their name and contact information from the email signaturenonetheless, you're free to place whatever you enjoy.) Make after you on Twitter simple. Again, do not make them search for you.

Add your Twitter ID on your business cards and letterheads.

Though this will not build you a massive following really quickly it's a great habit to get into and can be equally as crucial as incorporating your own physical address, phone number and email address.

Avoid excessive advertising.

It's true, you can market your blog articles, goods, etc. . Twitter but be cautious. There is an invisible line that you shouldn't cross. If you do, you resemble a spammer-or just clueless. Not only can you NOT get extra followers, you'll wear out your present followers and several will just dazzle you.

Actively follow different folks on Twitter.

Start your media efforts by becoming a follower of those people that you respect in your business. Read on their tweets to acquire a feeling of who they are and what their aims are about Twitter. It's a great idea to follow along because many folks in your business or business as you can. As soon as you've discovered people and began to follow themit is going to provide them the chance to find both your great content along with your internet presence. They are more inclined to reciprocate and accompany you again, as are most of the followers who may even prove to be prospective clients.

Place your Twitter title in bulk media campaigns

If you put ads in magazines, or on radio or television, you have to be certain your twitter title is not there for everybody to watch and listen. Just include the Number (hashtag emblem ) followed with your business's title or advertising and individuals will accompany you.

Keep your articles short sufficient to retweet.

Retweets are the sole method to get seen by men and women who do not follow you, but you have to create your articles easy for other people to retweet. Keep your tweets brief enough for folks to have the ability to bring the RT emblem and your own username ("RT @yourcompanyname"). So for instance, let us say your title is 14 characters you will also have to incorporate the distance. That implies, so as to become more retweetable, your own tweet may be no more than 126 characters (140-14=126).

Have your Twitter connection on Facebook

Virtually everybody uses Facebook, therefore ensure it is simple for them to jump over to a Twitter accounts whenever they see the Facebook profile. The perfect place is at the"About" section.

Tweet frequently

Picture Twitter as a continuous, fast flowing stream. Tweets flow beyond and are usually never found again. Consequently, you have to keep your own Tweets flowing so you aren't forgotten. Be clear. Stand out from the crowd and you'll find far more followers.

Link to Twitter out of LinkedIn.

Possessing a Twitter connection in your LinkedIn accounts is ideal. You are allowed three hyperlinks onto LinkedIn profile, so be certain one of these is the Twitter accounts. It'll be excellent for media, particularly with the movers and shakers in your business.

Reply to other people openly.

I was able to respond to individuals through Direct Message, believing what I needed to say was immaterial to all my followers. Since I was not responding in people, this left me seem unsociable. So today, I answer almost exclusively in people, and actually, the only men and women who see these messages are individuals who follow me and the man I am responding to that's just a tiny subset of my own followers. By doing this, my tweets are social but not bothersome.

Be generous when connecting to, and others.

Twitter encourages a culture of sharing. The longer you connect to other people, the more folks will encounter, and that is exactly what should occur for you to raise your follower depend. You want other people to present you to their own followers. But don't request a retweet too frequently. Once in a while is fine but in the event that you merely post content value retweeting, folks will happily do it to you without needing to ask!

These hints will truly help boost your own follower amounts and we expect they give you a bit of inspiration. Having said this, you will need to consider: If you're at the commencement of your Twitter trip, no one is actually going to be paying much attention for your own.

Initially your articles will probably be lost in a sea of different messages which are competing for attention, but on the other hand there aren't likely to be too many men and women that will see your own messages before you develop a sizable following, therefore this is the best time to create a few errors.

Recall: Twitter takes a whole lot of work, has a small steep learning curve and could be a fairly scary place to be on one. You will find a lot of these confusing symbols and characters, odd shortened connections, stress to accompany men and women that you do not understand and numerous chilling acronyms and buzz phrases, and of course that the hashtag.

lonely and craving feedback

below is a rough draft section from my original novel, North of the End of the World (wip title), and i just.... wanna see what people think of it’s tone so far? i’m gonna come back and smooth shit out later, but for the most part this is the basics of what i want it to be like.

all below the cut. it’s a dystopian setting, with adult characters, so while nothing too pg happens in this tidbit i still wanna remind yall to be careful with yourselves.

------------------

Colorado City. It’s the biggest one in the province, the rest of them scattered towns, clinging to other ruins. Colorado City is tangled, dirty, and overly full, even with it’s large size. It’s not even in ‘Colorado’, wherever that is. It got built on some other city, up in the northern of what was Alberta, Canada.

Colette doesn’t really care if the name is all wrong; it’s a city, it’s where she lives, that’s the end of things. She doesn’t need to know more than that to get by.

Colorado isn’t anyone’s home, far as she’s concerned. It’s just a place they’ve all gathered to clamber over one another; clawing out lives for themselves in a toxic environment, with nowhere else to go. Wasteland towns pop up and get swallowed up in the same month, sometimes. The only consistency anyone can find is here, or another big city. For whatever reason, the biggest of the ruins stay where they are; persevering through the fallout and standing tall.

They’ve even remained sturdy enough that new structures could be built around them, and under them. There are so few places left for humans, where they can defend themselves from the world. They’ve had no choice but to remain in cities like this, forcing it to accommodate them. Multiple levels, suspended between buildings, created to provide more room in their crowded metropolis. The same treatment done downwards; just as equally tangled and packed in.

Colette likes her burrow on the below ground levels. She likes it because the lights in the area are always malfunctioning, because skittering creatures make home in the shadows, because everyone else hates it and she enjoys being contrary.

She also likes it because finding work is easy. Someone who knows the underground like her is valuable, good for odd jobs. Colette has a near flawless success rate in whatever errands she’s given- be it locating an item, delivering something, just about anything, really.

And, unlike most other folks, Colette isn’t scared of the dark, or what hides in it. She’d walk through a pitch-black tunnel no problem; she wouldn’t even flinch. Nothing there is of any real threat, honestly; nothing to be afraid of. It’s what’s inside of people that scares her.

Still, she needs to eat. So, whenever she wakes up each day or night, Colette rolls herself out of bed to get dressed and head out. She knows the hotspots for the sorts of jobs she wants; quick and short, but decent enough pay. The people who frequent those hotspots know her well enough to refer interested parties.

Tonight, Colette wants something she can get done in a few hours. She’s still sore in her left leg from where someone got a lucky kick in. Serves her right, underestimating the thief she’d been sent to steal from. Stupid kid couldn’t have been older than fifteen, but he fought like hell to keep the package he stole.

Colette had kicked the shit out of him in exchange, and pried the package out of his singed hands. The consequences of his theft far outweighed the gain from it, in Colette’s opinion. All the kid had to show for it were burnt fingers and an introduction to the heel of her boot.

She kind of feels sorry for the nameless thief, because that’d been her at some point. But, she learned. She got smarter and tougher. If the thief is lucky, he’ll live long enough to do that, too.

The bar she’s visiting tonight is closer to a giant hole in the wall than a proper establishment. The painted sign on the concrete ceiling says High Street’s End, but the tunnels have no real streets, so most people just call it Jerry’s. Colette calls it a shithole, personally.

She’s woken up in the afternoon today, so the dinner rush hasn’t started yet. There’s plenty of after work drinkers, though, scattered in numbers large enough Colette knows she’ll get to eat tonight.

She lifts her scarf a little higher, over her chin. The strung-up lights of the bar wash out her already sun deprived skin, bleaching her long, tangled blonde hair to near white. Colette has two layers on, a thick sweater and long coat. It hides how lean she is, bulks up her small stature. Doesn’t help the fact that her feet dangle when she sits down on the metal bar stool. A glass of water is set in front of her on the counter, clean and clear.

Colette takes it and drinks it in just a few gulps. Good water is hard to come by; many sources are tainted. Jerry’s bar is special because of that. He can purify it, no matter how filthy.

He’s also older than nearly anyone else around here, making it to the point where his hair is almost pure white and grey. Colette doesn’t much like people, but she has something like fondness for Jerry. He’s a stout set man with a trim beard, paired with a sense of humor that’s as endearing as it is annoying.

“Evening, Russian Colette,” Jerry says with a cheeky grin, leaning on the counter. “You on any particular errand right now? ‘cause I’d rather you didn’t break my furniture again with a brawl.”

Colette shakes her head no. She digs a coin out of her pocket and flashes it in front of Jerry, the five-dollar digits imprinted on it making her point clear.

“Ah, job hunting,” Jerry says, nodding. He takes the coin and digs into his own pockets, producing a notebook. He flips through it, the arthritic swell of his fingers stiffening the action by the slightest margin. “Well, let’s see here… got a few requests for runners up to the topside, two for finding missing persons, an advertisement about a prophet geared educational group…”

I hate being upstairs, Colette signs, though it’s mostly for her own benefit, and those missing people are dead or shipped off already. The group thing is a scam. Probably another con to catch any young magicians without anyone watching them.

“What’s that?” Jerry is bemusedly confused by her hand signs, like always. “You know I only recognize my name in all that hand waving, right? Use a paper, woman.”

Colette raises one hand and lifts a single finger. Jerry guffaws.

“Now that I know the meaning of,” he says, chortling still. “Sorry, but that’s all I’ve gotten today. And you already refused everything else I have.”

Colette snorts. The other jobs Jerry has on offer are as shitty as the newest ones. She passed on all of them because they either paid like shit for an enormous amount of effort, or because she knew she wouldn’t be able to complete it and so wouldn’t be paid.

She taps her glass pointedly. Jerry obliges her a refill of water, right from the tap alongside his beer options. As he hands it to her, he says, “Think on it a little more before you leave, alright? Your good business is good my business, and you haven’t taken a job from here in a few weeks.”

Colette shrugs. She’ll think about it, sure. She’ll think about how stupid the jobs are, and then she’ll leave to find better ones.

Jerry moves on, going to greet other customers coming in. Colette sips slowly at her water, enjoying its sweet freshness. As much as she’d like to buy another five waters, and a hot meal on the side, Colette is counting her coins and not liking the numbers. Jerry’s right; she’s been skimming without serious jobs for a while. Any longer and she might have some trouble.

And speaking of trouble; Colette turns on her stool, hearing a chair be knocked over and rancorous laughter. She raises an eyebrow at the poor guy who’s the butt of the joke. He’s big, bigger than almost anyone Colette’s known. Tall and well fed. He’s also got clothes that lack the level of wear and tear hers has, that everyone’s around here has. Nice deep green coat and a shiny leather satchel; boots that could be new, all the buttons on his shirt still.

He doesn’t look like someone who’s a member of the Families in the city, though. Those sorts never come down here anyway. The guy looks about her age, maybe younger. Early twenties, likely. He’s got a soft cheeked face, with equally soft dark curls framing it. Colette looks at his skin and thinks of the grove of acorn trees she once saw; nuts light as sun to dark as earth. He’s between that, the sort of brown that lets you know it’s not too early or too late to eat the nut.

Colette pushes away the memory of that warm fall, from somewhere far in her past. The guy picking himself up off the ground may look as strong as an oak tree, but he’s clearly no better than a dried twig. Colette can give him a single glance and know he’s easy prey, a target for anyone to take advantage of.

Not her scene. Colette does some pretty terrible things to make ends meet, but she doesn’t cross the line like that. Kicking a thief around is one thing; robbing someone of everything they have is quite another.

Colette grimaces, watching the out-of-towner huff and scold the group of men he’s sitting with. Now she feels all melancholic about how awful everyone here is. She finishes her drink of water, annoyed that her evening has barely begun and it’s already been spoiled.

Colette whistles at Jerry to get his attention, rubbing her fingers together to show she wants one of the jobs. Her mood is quickly sliding into prickly grumpiness; she might as well ruin it further.

When Jerry asks which job she wants, Colette jerks a thumb across her throat.

tbc

Instructions to Live a Luxurious Life on a Not-So-Luxury Budget

Like Coco Chanel, I cherish extravagance. My heart does palpitations when I stroll by the boutiques in Paris. A three-star Michelin café brings out groans and moans. Also, a spectacular tote and an inn staff that is always saying "My pleasure" at my every solicitation makes me grin.

I even built up an extravagance brains program where I have the pleasure of coaching an astonishing gathering of ladies while we travel to probably the richest places on the planet, for example, Aspen and Monaco. I believe it's significant that ladies figure out how to inject their organizations, lives, and spirits with extravagance. (Coincidentally, that pic is of us at our sleep party with a private cook at the Ritz.)

Call me vain, materialistic or whatever word you have for individuals like me. I couldn't care less. Actually, I get it. I use to feel the equivalent about individuals carrying on with "easy street," and, guess what? It wasn't on the grounds that I thought they were terrible individuals. Where it counts, I was simply envious, in light of the fact that I needed it as well.

This is what may not think about me. I haven't generally lived such a sumptuous way of life. Truth be told, I've been dead destitute. I'm talking about eating Ramen noodles, living in a twofold wide, pursuing down the K-bazaar blue light unique and putting 25 pennies worth of gas in my vehicle broke.

I'm likewise not a cash mentor, which means I don't show you how to get more cash-flow. I show you how to take advantage of your wants, make wellbeing, pursue your interests and live full out. Cash just appears to pursue such a lady.

What I've found is that you should initially figure out how to be a sumptuous individual to draw in a lavish life, which is the thing that "French Kissing Life" is about - filling every day with joie de vivre, energy and want - which can all be accomplished with minimal expenditure in the bank. Indeed, this strategy, not some cash the executives' framework, is actually how I pulled in the richest life.

I need to tell you the best way to do likewise, on the grounds that I realize where it counts, you'd most likely appreciate a decent container of wine or a night at the Ritz Carlton. What's more, there's nothing at all amiss with you for needing it. Actually, I state, "Pull out all the stops sista!"

Making it Obtainable

Not very many individuals are blessed enough to turn out to be medium-term tycoons, however, in the event that you need to carry on with a lavish life, you should adjust your vitality to extravagance. Anyway, what is a young lady to do?

All things considered, you may need to reclassify extravagance to make it realistic now, in such a case that your present definition is fine yachts and you drive a Pinto, prepare to have your mind blown. You're in a bad way.

Along these lines, we should consider extravagance this: quality individuals, encounters and things.

At the point when I chose numerous years back that I was tired of the poop in my life, I began looking for quality. I was finished with the low-quality nourishments, crying individuals and plastics made in China. I needed more for myself, yet I couldn't bear the cost of Chanel at the time (and in spite of the fact that I expound on her like we're closest companions now, despite everything I don't claim a piece.) I needed to begin indicating appreciation for the extravagances I needed to draw in a greater amount of it into my life, and trust me, in case you're understanding this, you have a PC. That is an extravagance.

Extravagance is about quality and in some cases the most quality encounters are free. I can't consider much else sumptuous than spending time with my girl on the couch viewing a great motion picture or my morning mug of espresso on my back deck.

Rather than me giving you some charm law of fascination direct on vitality arrangement to pull in more cash, I am going to share my genuine instances of how I started to encounter extravagance sometime before my first Ritz-Carlton remains (BTW, j'adore the Ritz). At the point when I began accomplishing the accompanying things, the universe of extravagance opened its enormous arms and grasped me:

1. I quit spending time with griping individuals who were continually discussing how broke they were. Significant extravagance repellent.

2. I searched out quality associations with individuals who were no aliens to extravagance. I needed to figure out how to think like them.

3. I invested more energy in nature. There's nothing as extravagant as strolling shoeless in the grass on a mid-year evening or a decent climb in the forested areas.

4. Extravagance despises scramble, so I backed off and delighted in cups of espressos discussions with companions.

5. I quit spending my cash on the poo 2 for $20 shirts and set aside to purchase the pleasant $100 one. Extravagance isn't about amount; the quality issues.

6. I hung out in the anterooms of fine lodgings and simply encountered the universe of extravagance. They don't charge you for anteroom space.

7. I drove a garbage vehicle so I could spend lavishly on great nourishment. Despite everything I drive a not exactly sumptuous vehicle, however, my life has not endured one piece.

8. I pursued my energy and went to sommelier school. The $500 starting speculation opened me up to an entire diverse degree of extravagance where I had the option to taste a $1000 jug of wine and state something extravagant like, "Hhhmm...I think it needs to breathe for some time." Major extravagance minute. (Coincidentally, by following my craving to study the universe of wine, I was approached to compose café surveys for a provincial magazine and make a wine program at a nation club, which prompted increasingly lavish encounters that paid me. How cool is that?)

9. I dressed and strolled like a lady of extravagance, which means I didn't leave my home in loose pants and a T-shirt with my shoulders drooped.

10. I turned into an understudy of extravagance, perusing quality writing, watching exemplary movies and understanding Town and Country and Vogue.

11. I quit tuning in to my musings that made statements like, "Young lady, you experienced childhood in a trailer. Who do you think you are?" It's simply unnecessary prattle.

12. I began completely captivating with my reality and the individuals in it, posing inquiries, looking for answers and always putting myself out there.

13. I put new blossoms in my home.

14. I visited my folks more. They generally make me feel like a Princess, in any event, when we lived in a twofold wide.

15. I searched out quality discussions that talked about the significant stuff, similar to death, life, religion, style and nourishment and wine. All things considered, at any rate, those things are imperative to me.

16. I went to extravagant occasions, for example, a direction for ladies at Duke's School of Business. Remember, I was filling in as full-time nurture and had never been doing business. These occasions likewise didn't cost me a dime other than the gas to arrive.

17. I began strolling through Saks as though I had a place, dislike some oddity whose eyes were going to fly out of my attachments when I saw the cost of a Louis sack. No, only a shoulder shrug like it wasn't the sack for me.

18. I ended up aware of what I put into my body and how I traveled through the world. Indeed, this implies eating well and working out.

19. I cleaned (and keep on cleaning) my universe of low-quality individuals, things and encounters. Extravagance doesn't coincide with mayhem, show, and mess.

20. I trusted I merited a lavish life. This is the most significant of all. Numerous ladies are strolling around feeling regretful on the off chance that they put $20 dollars in themselves. On the off chance that that is you, hear me out. You are not doing yourself or the universe of support by preventing yourself from claiming a lavish life. The most giving individuals I know enjoy a quality lifestyle, which is the manner by which they can help such a significant number of others. You must tidy this idea up to give extravagance access.

Reward: I recollected this one after I completed the article, so allows simply to consider it a reward. Something I began doing was favoring the individuals who carried on with an extravagant way of life, rather than judging and covertly loathing them. By saying, "You go young lady" each time I saw a lady shaking out her Prada dress, leaving the back rub parlor or sashaying into the Four Seasons, I was opening my heart to the Universe and saying, "Expedite it. I'm prepared!"

Tonya Leigh Williams is a mentor, speaker, and essayist. She is devoted to enabling ladies to make astounding lives and bodies without slimming down, hardship and show. Her enthusiasm is helping ladies discover opportunities from self-perception, weight, and nourishment issues. Tonya shows the insider facts of normally thin individuals, mentors ladies on ordinary eating without hardship, and tells ladies the best way to at the same time change their bodies while additionally living settled inside them. She has helped ladies get thinner, gain clearness and reason, and venture into another life free of battle. On the off chance that you are keen on getting familiar with training with Tonya Leigh.

LOT/CC fic: Date Night (Ch. 1 of 5)

Len and Sara finally get that date. But nothing ever goes smoothly with the Legends. (Sequel to Second Chances. I recommend you read that one first to meet this Len Snart.)

Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta! Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

This will be four chapters and an epilogue. And I'll actually be sticking to that for once, because the complete story is already done! Rated T mainly for language.

Truth be told, Sara had nearly forgotten about Len's offer/request that night in the brig.

Or perhaps it was more appropriate to say that she'd simply didn't think it would happen. They're busy on the Waverider after all. Down time is not something that happens very often. And since they've fallen into the same card-playing, often-flirting, occasionally drinking routine she'd had with the original Leonard Snart, well, perhaps she'd thought that was all he ever intended to pursue.

She'd been wrong.

"All right, folks," she says with a sigh, rising from the captain's chair once the Waverider's parked safely in Central City 2017 and the shielding illusion is up. "You have 36 hours. Use it wisely. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Mick snorts at that, stretching as he rises and causing an audible "crick" from his spine that makes Amaya, next to him, wince. "Seriously? You wanna tell this lot that?"

"OK. Don't do anything you don't want to have to explain to me later. Is that better?" With a smile, she turns away from his rejoinder (and the sound of the others comparing notes on the things they're going to do, family they're going to see, and non-replicator meals they're going to eat) and toward the corridor toward quarters, planning to spend this "shore leave" at the ship so the rest of the team can relax.

She semi-expects/hopes Len will stay too. But she doesn’t want to single him out and make him feel obligated, not when all the others are free to leave. If he stays, she wants him to want to.

And she’s probably making it more complicated than it needs to be.

Sara heads to her room; he’ll follow or he won’t. And she’s not going to stand there waiting for him. Any longer than a minute, anyway.

But that moment or two comes and goes, and she shakes her head, moving to her bed and stretching out, telling herself that she’s not disappointed, not at all, it’s going to be nice to have time to herself, she’s going to watch every stupid rom-com Gideon has on file and eat ice cream and …

There’s a rap at the door.

Len is there when she opens it, but he’s not wearing either his white, blue and black uniform or his habitual gray T and jeans, the equally habitual bottle of something in his hand. Instead, he’s looking dapper as hell, black dress pants and a sapphire blue button-down shirt, a look on his face that seems oddly tentative, hands shoved in his pockets and somehow still not spoiling the look.

Sara blinks at him, feeling like she’s missed something. “Yes?” she manages.

That gets her a Snart shrug and one corner of his mouth ticks up. “I think,” he says, in a tone that attempts to be smooth and doesn’t quite manage it—his ice isn’t anywhere near as thick as Earth-1 Leonard’s had been, and damn, that sounds kinda dirty, “we talked, once, about a date? For dinner?”

“Now?” Sara thinks back, startled.

He clears his throat. “Well. All that was mentioned was ‘sometime when we have some time.’ And a firm ‘we’ll see.’ But I was…hoping…”

The optimism in his eyes is rather charming, actually. Sara lets a smile cross her face, but there’s regret as well. “I would love to…but I promised to stay here so the others could go out…”

Now there’s a spark. “Way ahead of you, Captain,” he drawls, sounding like his doppelganger. “Mick agreed to stay tonight. For me. And you.” He considers. “Well. Maybe I bribed him. But that’s rather beside the point. So?”

She shouldn’t. “Just let me get dressed.”

Mick lets out a low rumble of laughter as Sara shows up on the bridge not long later, wearing something she hopes says “semi-casual first date with a former thief from another world”—and, boy, has her life gotten even stranger than expected. The noise manages to be both teasing and oddly affectionate, and Sara grins at him, moving over to bump his shoulder with her own.

“You have my number,” she tells her friend and unofficial second in command, who’s sitting in the captain’s chair with his legs stretched out ahead of him and a book in his hand. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but sometime tonight. Then you can…”

But Mick’s rumbling again at her words, a knowing chuckle, and Sara folds her arms and glares at him good-naturedly. Len’s not on the bridge at the moment, so she doesn’t hesitate to puncture Mick’s apparently somewhat-misplaced expectations. (Best not to think about why she might have paused if Len had been there.)

“I’m not falling into bed with him after one date,” she hisses at him quietly. “Dinner. Maybe…I dunno…a walk or something. I’ll be back.”

Mick eyes her, grinning. “Not one date,” he corrects, sitting his book down on the arm of the chair. “Few weeks of card-playin’ and serious flirtin’ by this point. And if you count even of a fraction of what went down with our Snart…”

“Don’t.”

They both pause at the note of warning in her voice—a note Sara hadn’t intended to be quite so angry...or distressed. She starts to apologize almost immediately, but Mick holds up a hand, shaking his head.

“I get it,” he mutters, looking away, then back, meeting her eyes. “It ain’t him. Sara…” He almost never uses her given name. “…no one here knows better ‘n me that it’s not.”

“I know…” Sara sighs. “Mick. Maybe…maybe there’s something there. I mean, I like Len. A lot. I’ve enjoyed spending time with him. I’m…I’m attracted to him.” The other man grunts a little as he eyes her, and Sara shrugs. It’s not the kind of thing they usually talk about, but he brought it up. “But nothing…serious…is going to happen until I can look at him and see him. Not Leonard.”

After a moment, Mick sighs too. “Might be waiting a long time, then,” he mutters, but then leans back in the chair and shrugs. “Ain’t him. But this one, he’s a decent dude in his own right. Keep that in mind too. OK?”

What can she do but agree?

The look in Len’s eyes, when he arrives on the bridge to meet her, is gratifyingly rapt. Mick barks out another laugh as the other man stops dead in his tracks, trying very hard not to stare.

“You,” Len says smoothly after a moment, though, approaching, “look gorgeous.”

It’s just a pair of nice slacks and a golden silk top. Sara, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, reaches up to toy with the pendant of carved amber that’s hanging around her throat, just under Laurel’s necklace. “Not too fancy? You didn’t say…”

“Not at all.” His lopsided smile is utterly unlike anything she’s seen on that face before—no matter what owner it’d had. It’s an almost boyish expression. And while she knows he watches her a lot—any version of Leonard she’s ever seen has, frankly—it’s still a surprise when she catches him watching with that look in his eyes. The one that mingles fondness, respect, appreciation and, yes, desire, all in those blue eyes and…

Mick laughs again, and Sara realizes she and Len have been standing there staring at each other. She glares at Mick good-naturedly, but Len chuckles, stepping forward and offering Sara his arm.

After a moment, she takes it.

Len Snart is a realist. Really, he is.

OK, so that seems sort of weird, given how his recent life has gone. He’s a superhero now, or so he’s told. (He still prefers antihero, but whatever.) He’s acquired ice powers, which happened when his cold gun went critical during a fight. He’s gone drinking with aliens, snarked at the Dark Knight of his world’s Gotham City, and flirted wildly with an actual Amazon of Themyscira. Hell, he’s even on a bona fide different Earth right now, ever since the bad guy of the moment had opened that portal during a League mission.

Still, as weird as it’s all been, it’s a little more believable to him than that he’d be…here. Strolling down a street in Central City—not quite his Central City, but still—with one of the most remarkable women he’s ever met on his arm. For a date. An actual date. An actual date to an actual nice restaurant to which they have actual reservations. (This Earth’s Barry Allen, while aware there was an alternate Snart running around with the Legends, had been somewhat flummoxed when that Snart had called him up for dining recommendations.)

And this remarkable woman truly seems to like him. Well…she’d liked the him from this Earth, but by now, maybe him-him too? He thinks. Enough to do this crazy impromptu date thing, anyway.

He glances toward her as they walk. Sara, feeling the gaze, turns her head to return it. She smirks at him a little, but it seems to be an affectionate smirk.

His doppelganger here, he’s long since decided, was an idiot. Well, that’s not quite fair. From everything Mick’s said, and a crumb here and there from Sara, that man had been a lot more damaged. Lewis had survived a lot longer, for one thing, continuing to fuck up his children’s lives in new and more creative ways, and there’d been someone or something called “Alexa.”

Really, especially given all that, Len can only thank Earth-1 Leonard for being someone who’d managed to intrigue Sara Lance enough that she’d give him a shot.

“So, where are we going?” the amazing woman in question asks, and frankly he’s a little surprised she’d waited this long.

“Place called The Red Pepper.” He gives her a tentative look. “You said you liked Thai food. I was looking for a really good fusion place I remember from, ah, where I’m from, but it apparently doesn’t exist here. I’m told this one seems pretty similar, got a great review…”

“I love good Thai.” Sara’s voice is fervent. “And it’s something Gideon just does not manage well. Sounds fabulous.”

“Excellent.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, I’d have, ah, called a cab or something if it wasn’t a nice evening. But I thought the walk might be good.”

“You mean you would have hot-wired a car.”

Len starts to deny it, then eyes her as she laughs. “Well. Maybe….”

Could he have? Sure. Would he have? Honestly, it’s not so much his style when there’s an easier and less attention-getting way of accomplishing the same thing. Apparently his other self wouldn’t have…and hadn’t, in the past…hesitated.

He’s competing with a goddamned ghost.

But he swallows the sigh, and smirks at Sara instead. “Well,” he drawls a little, “it is a nice evening. So it doesn’t matter much.”

There’s a flicker in her eyes, and he curses himself for giving something away. Hell, he doesn’t want to remind her of the other him. But it seems there’s really no way he can avoid it, and he blunders again and again.

Best, perhaps, to just carry on and try to be himself, corny as that sounds.

Len casts about for a topic. They’ve talked a lot, the past few weeks, and they know a bit each other’s background. She doesn’t exist, on his Earth, so far as he knows. He knows a Black Canary, a Dinah Laurel Lance—hell, he’s fought with her, flirted with her a bit. But not much, because of her husband, the Green Arrow, his Earth’s Oliver Queen.

He hasn’t told Sara about that. And he probably won’t.

But Dinah doesn’t have a sister. He knows because he’d asked once. Mostly to irritate Ollie.

He sincerely likes Dinah; she’s badass and gorgeous and she’s got a sense of humor, but he likes Sara far more. There are more shadows to her, more edges, but a sense of something grounded, too, a basic practicality he doesn’t see often in the heroes in whose company he’s been finding himself. (Or the villains too, really. There’s often nothing less practical than the sort of person who, confronted with a costumed hero, decides to level up instead of getting the hell outta Dodge. Which might be a little pot-meet-kettle, really.)

“So,” he continues, studying the buildings of center city around them, the businesspeople headed home, the tourists scattered about, taking pictures of architecture and public art and each other. (Ah, that’s where the Flash Museum is located, on his Earth. The one here apparently hasn’t gotten quite that level of adulation yet.) “What do people on this Earth talk about, in normal first-date-kinda situations? Not that we’re either quite normal by most standards. And I know we’ve already talked quite a bit, last few weeks. But…well, what do you like to do, when you’re not being all badass captain of a time ship?”

Sara’s lips twitch. “Well, what you do when you’re not being all crook-turned-hero-on-another-Earth?” she returns. “Regular…stuff.”

“Like?” When she pauses to think about it, Len offers up something of his own. “I like cheesy sci-fi movies. Books. Most books.” He smirks. “Museums.”

“Uh huh.” Sara’s voice is dry. “Relieving museums of certain things…”

“I don’t do that anymore.” He tries to sound innocent and doesn’t quite manage it.

“Uh huh.” She laughs a little, glancing at him. “I like movies. Hmmm…hanging out with friends. I like to dance.”

“Aaahhh. So next time, I should take you dancing?”

His tone is teasing as he watches her, but then his gut twists as a shadow crosses Sara’s expression, her face falling a little. There’s no doubt at all why, at least in general terms. The ghost is there between them again.

“Never mind,” he backtracks immediately. “Never mind. I didn’t realize…that was one of your things. I didn’t think…”

He stops again. There’s really nothing he can say, is there?

It’s just going to happen again.

So many traps to stumble into. So many pitfalls to remind her of the Leonard she’d first known.

But Len is looking away, his easy gait now a bit stilted, tension in the arm where her hand is resting. She knows him well enough now to know that he’s bothered, and for a long moment, she wonders if this whole thing was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t even have agreed to this at all until she could get past more of the ghosts that hover there between them.

“No, it’s…” Sara sighs. “The first place we stopped, on the ship. St. Roch, 1972. Leonard, Mick and I, we left the ship and found a bar. Got some dollar beers; Mick put on the jukebox.” She smiles a little despite herself. “I asked Leonard to dance.”

“You did?” Len sounds intrigued despite himself. “All I’ve heard, he didn’t seem like, ah, the sort.”

“He wasn’t. Didn’t know him well at the time.” Her lips twitch a little. “He declined. Said he’d watch.”

She watches Len try to figure out how to respond to that without innuendo…and eventually simply give up. “Can’t say I blame him,” he drawls, eyeing her. “I rather like to watch.”

“Do you now.” It’s not a question. They smirk at each other a moment, awkwardness passed for now, and then Sara decides she needs to ask the obvious question.

“Do you dance?”

“Mmmm.” He looks though his lashes at her. “With the right partner.”

“Good to know.” She hesitates. “So…you’d take me dancing?”

“Captain Lance, I would love to.” Len smiles at her, one of those genuine smiles that are his alone, and Sara grins back, and maybe this will work out after all.

Of course, that’s when they hear the screams.

The Valley

Summary: Arthur and his mustang enjoy their day hunting, followed by a calm evening by the fire.

Word Count: 1483

Rating: SFW

Tags: Inktober, Prompts, Hunting, Big Valley, Nature, Thoughts, Feelings.

Notes: I wanted to practice my descriptive text, and write something about the Arthur I played as and my boah, Spirit. 

Big Valley is one of the most beautiful places in the East, and Arthur always finds himself roaming these parts for very few reasons. Sure, he'll hunt and fish here, maybe spend some time chatting to the trapper as he orders some new equipment, but apart from that, there isn't too much to do. And that's exactly why Arthur likes it. He pitches his tent and gets a small fire going, cooking a few leftover pieces of meat he had. After eating a light meal and getting his equipment ready, Arthur heads down into the valley, trotting along on the back of his mustang. This was where the two of them met. Arthur had taken his time to calm and tame the beast, breaking him in and riding him over to Strawberry so he could saddle him up and give him a cute name. The boy was full of spirit, and Arthur could see that wild and free glint to his eyes every time he looked at him. In some ways, the two of them were the same, being adventurous and carefree, and maybe that explains why Arthur bonded with the mount so quickly. 

So that's what he named him, Spirit. The two take their time to hunt, Arthur has the bow ready in his hand, fingers holding the arrow in place as his other hand loosely holds Spirits reigns. He's a little overdressed to be hunting, with his pearly white shirt, red waistcoat, and emerald green puff tie, but the length of his 'stache that curls at the end shows just how long this man has been on the road, somehow managing to keep his clothes clean. Arthur was always dressed impeccably, and his horse was just the same. Arthur had finally gotten used to the number of compliments he would receive about his mount. Spirits' coat was always clean, his hooves were always free of dirt, and the way his fur glistened in the rain would send a chill down any man's spine. Handsome was the perfect word to describe this mustang, but his personality was not as formal as his looks. He was boisterous and full of fire, just like his rider. Arthur reaches the heart of the valley. Hanging Dog Ranch is in view, but Arthur knows not to venture over there. He's cleared that hideout many times, but it seems there's far too many O'Driscolls as the gang always reappears every time Arthur rides by. So to save his time and bullets, he avoids the place. He's sure he'll clear it out for good one day, maybe Sadie will ride alongside him and the two of them will wipe the place out in memory of Jakey, but only time will tell. Arthur can already see the shots waiting to be taken. There's more than enough pronghorns waiting in the fields, grazing amongst the bluebells. A pack of coyotes can be seen drinking from the river, and Arthur notices a herd of wild horses running in the distance. The pronghorns will do. There's more than enough meat on one to keep Arthur fed, and Arthur will probably hunt another one tomorrow so he can take it back to camp. Normally, Arthur takes a stealthy approach, creeping amongst the grass after dousing himself in cover scent lotion. But Arthur wants to run free today, so with a light tap of his spurs and a click of his tongue, he asks Spirit to ride as fast as he wants, the sound of his hooves echoing off the mountains that surround the valley. His bow is at the ready, and the pronghorns begin to run. Spirit, being the stallion that he is, is far faster than the little deer, and catches up to them within seconds. Arthur is an excellent hunter, especially after the lessons Charles gave him back in Colter, and manages to get a clean shot as he rides past one of the does. Arthur always hopes his kills are quick and clean, not just because the pelt will be good quality, but because the animal will die on impact, meaning no pain and suffering. There's nothing worse than a sloppy kill where the animal lies there for minutes, crying in pain until they finally bleed to death. The thought of that alone makes Arthur feel sick. And to think, some men who call themselves 'hunters' take pride in those final few minutes, watching their kill bleed to death rather than pulling a bullet between their eyes. Arthur had once met a man exactly like that, overhearing him gloat at a Saloon about a lousy kill he'd done earlier that day. He went on and on about how he had to let the animal bleed to death else another shot would ruin the pelt, but the hunters own pelt was ruined when Arthur took him out back and beat him down into the mud. Arthur may be an outlaw, but he still has morals, and a lot of respect for folk, animals, and women. He dismounts Spirit, asking him to stay still so he can pick the corpse up and stow it over Spirits back, tieing it to his saddle. After giving Spirit a treat and telling him what a good boy he is, Arthur mounts him and rides back to his little camp up in the trees. He doesn't bother hitching Spirit, knowing that if he does wonder, he won't go far. The pronghorn and his saddle are removed, and Spirit seems even more relieved when his reigns are removed and the bar is taken out of his mouth. Arthur hears Spirit chewing on it all the time, and despite knowing that horses don't mind the piece of metal in their mouths, Arthur still wishes there was a nicer way to equipt them. Spirit wonders off to graze whilst Arthur begins skinning his kill, stowing the pelt on a nearby branch whilst he focuses on cutting up the meat. By the time he's done, the sun has already gone down, and Arthur spends the evening cooking his provisions and stuffing his satchel and stomach full of them. Arthur does what he always does when he feels this peaceful, softly singing to himself whilst he sits by the fire, switching between cooking the meat on his knife and taking a swig of whiskey from the bottle he keeps beside him. Spirit has returned from his graze and seems in a rather lazy mood as for once as he sits down beside the fire. He slowly nods off to sleep, enjoying Arthur's quiet singing and the sound of crickets chirping around him. Arthur eventually does the same, tucking himself into his bedroll as he uses Spirits saddle for a pillow. His mood is ecstatic, something that the civilized man will never truly feel. There's nothing better than truly being free. Things like land and money mean little to Arthur, and his mood shines even brighter when he has the sun and the moon watching over him every single day. He never blocks them from his view, because a life with a roof above his head just isn't the life for him. Arthur knows he's the last of his kind, and the more man builds railways and motorized vehicles, the more his kind dies out. In some ways, Arthur can relate to the Indians, being forced out of their own homes for the oil underneath them. Arthur knows what it's like to have his world die around him, and slowly watch as this newer 'better' world rises up in its place. Though it does benefit most of civilization, he'll never understand why anyone would want to replace this life. He knows one day that this valley will be gone, the trees will be chopped down and the animals will be killed. He's seen how grey the sky is around those places, and always feels ill and uneasy whenever he goes near them. But Arthur will enjoy it whilst it lasts, and whilst he lasts. He's certain he'll be gone before this valley is, and he'll probably be gone before the gang ever considers going back west. Those days, unfortunately, are behind him, and Arthurs finally come to terms with that. The life he once knew is long gone, but he'll see it again one day. Arthurs not a religious man, but if there is a heaven, then it'll be a vast open plain with wild horses and buffalo running free. All Arthur needs is his little tent overlooking the land below, with Spirit by his side and food cooking on the open fire. That's heaven, and that's the heaven that's waiting for Arthur when his time comes. For now, he'll enjoy whatever amount of time is left. It's hard not to enjoy his time when nature surrounds him. Arthur will be fine, he has the open road and that's all he needs.

360 video booth rental: What No One Is Talking About

 Exactly how to Plan the most ideal Event in 10 Hassle-free Steps

 Wondering just how to plan an event? Sure, thinking about it can feel a bit like trying to examine alchemy. You start with simply an eyesight and a spending plan, at that point you transform it into an event full of attendees as well as relocating components.

Depending upon the sort of event, lots of information are actually mosting likely to differ. However whatever, there are actually normally 10 measures you can count on in the experience coming from tip to function.

Listed here our company've rounded up those actions, in addition to lots of made an effort and accurate suggestions for planning an event. Best of luck! 

Line up on the event function with stakeholders.

Planning a prosperous event begins through realizing that attendees are actually searching for greater than an event-- they are actually seeking an experience. As well as to make an adventure, every little item of the event requires to map back to the purpose, from the venue to the food.

Determining that purpose begins through teaming up with crucial stakeholders to determine why the event needs to have to take place. Our experts presume Marriott's "Appointments Pictured" platform does a terrific job of steaming this idea up to seven potential reasons:

    Celebrate-- Commemorating a success or even milestone (Instance: One millionth client occasion)

    Choose-- Detailing strategies or even a road forward in some manner (Example: Quarterly panel meeting)

    Enlighten-- For the reasons of qualified or even educational advancement (Instance: SaaS customer meeting)

    Ideate-- Collaborating to make brand new methods or even tips (Example: Inner style sprint)

    System-- Make chances for folks who may discuss typical rate of interests to connect (Example: Tradeshow)

    Generate-- Attendees cooperate in the direction of a certain objective (Instance: Volunteer event)

    Advertise-- Corresponding brand-new offerings or suggestions to generate wish amongst a new reader (Instance: Item launch celebration)

Just how will you measure excellence?

Some of one of the most necessary pieces of working along with stakeholders is actually to straighten on how you'll establish the results of the event based on the objective. While appearance is actually a mark of success despite the appointment purpose, effectiveness generally possesses various layers.

As an example, if the reason of the event is actually to ensure a brand new item, the procedure of results is probably heading to be the variety of tops created for your purchases staff.  While for an event where the objective is actually to inform, a crucial procedure of effectiveness will likely be actually just how properly content translates into attendee interaction.

Your effectiveness as the event planner relies upon your capability to not merely produce a prosperous event, but additionally your capability to interact that effectiveness to stakeholders based on mutual performance clues that show event ROI.

Lock in your event budget plan.

You event depends on the reason coming from a speculative point of view, but when it concerns execution, the facts of what you may perform come down to your event spending plan. That amount is actually likely originating from your stakeholders, and also there's certainly not consistently visiting be actually squirm area. But that is actually not to state you can not negotiate.

Tips for bargaining a much bigger event finances

When it comes to haggling an event finances, the language stakeholders communicate very most with complete confidence is actually data. Unfortunately, if you don't have previous events under your waistband, you perhaps don't possess any sort of records accessible to make your scenario.

To acquire the budget plan you want, you are actually going to need to put a little bit of extra effort in up front. Draw up every part of your event (our experts'll get to this in the following section!) that demands invest, and consist of an enlightened prediction on just how much it is actually mosting likely to cost to lug it out properly. At that point comes the absolute most fundamental part. Talk to!

While you might not have the capacity to bargain good enough of an increase to shut the gap almost everywhere, you may be capable to satisfy in the middle with a little additional budget the parts you appreciate most.

How to plan an event budget

For a normal event, the majority of your loan is actually mosting likely to go toward the venue leasing, meals as well as beverage prices, and A/V necessities. However there are plenty more where those arised from! Merely look into the infographic listed below that our company produce using special survey information gathered through Social Tables.

When you're planning your event budget plan, ensure that you are actually consisting of each of these pieces in your quotes to stay away from going over budget.

Pro Suggestion: Speaking of monetary problems, there are covert costs to keep an eye out for, like late print projects, or extra audio/visual information. Quote anywhere from 3-10% of your overall expenses and include within your finances to guard you, in the event that you get any type of wonderful ideas, or even enhancements that might happen after your initial finances.

Determine who your prospective attendees are actually.

Once you know "why" you're planning the event, it's opportunity to determine "that" needs ahead. That is actually typically a question of 1) that's heading to profit from the function of the event or 2) that requires to become existing to work towards a target.

For little events where you understand your viewers, coming up with and getting to an attendee checklist may be basic. But for larger events like a seminar or even a community-wide event, the attendee swimming pool is most likely to be a great deal much more vibrant.

The energy of attendee people

If you are actually planning a large event, your prospective guests likely possess various tastes, desires, discovering styles, and Click for more info so on. Thus using the exact same formula all at any type of stage of the event direct would certainly indicate thinning just how efficiently you are actually taking on any kind of given person.

The much larger as well as more complex the target market, the extra useful it can be to bucket potential guests into personas based on commonalities. Using these people to produce targeted approaches essentially causes additional personalized experiences that have stronger entice the people that you're making an effort to reach.

A real-life instance of just how to plan around personalities

The event adventure business Experient makes use of a portfolio of twenty+ event personalities to aid event planners obtain a better know of guest inspirations. At a recent meeting organized due to the company, planners placed a few of these identities to utilize in their very own planning to make one-of-a-kind knowledge for every.

One of these identities was the "be-wellster," the form of attendee that is actually quite focused on wellness as well as alternative wellbeing. For this person, the Experient group planned runs, doing yoga treatments, healthier meals, and also breakout time for in-session mind-calming exercise.

Certain, your event may not be as advanced as Experient's, however every event can easily profit from some customization. The "who" teaser regularly possesses much more than one response when you hope to the following coating.

Discover a place that matches your event objective (and also budget plan!).

A great location choice may enhance appearance by as long as 80% according to a current research study! But that is actually simply one small item of why it's a big deal. It additionally possesses large effects for the effectiveness of the content shipment as well as total attendee interaction.

A simple means to think about opting for a venue is actually establishing the stage for a play. You can not possess a terrific enjoy with the inappropriate stage set up, thus what is actually the optimal backdrop for your specific purpose? And also just like significantly, is it heading to accommodate your finances?

    "It resembles developing the stage. What type of feel perform you prefer show business to have when your guests come out? It has a direct influence on their adventure."

Christine "Shimo" Shimasaki, CDME, CMP, Head Of State 2Synergize, Inc.

. The good news is, the net has brought in the search a whole lot less complicated, particularly with the increase of location internet search engine. Coordinators can easily compare locations, filter results based on event specifics, and also provide eRFPs (electronic request for plan).

For much larger events, there is actually additionally the added choice of partnering with the CVB (conventions & & guests bureau) of a hold city. Primary areas utilize income tax loan to make these non-profits, which assist hook up events with venues at no cost to organizers.

Think of rates, days, and also area.

Wondering just how to pick an event venue that's actually heading to function? Normally, a you may discover a great suitable for your event by thinking about it in terms of "fees, days, and area."

Begin along with rates.

Your location alternatives are confined through your financial truths (we don't must inform you that!), so the hunt begins here. Do a little research and get a feeling of the types of locations that match your finances. While you will not understand the particular quote for your event however, you ought to have the ability to learn good enough to determine if it's a probability.

Beginning producing a list of these venues without too much scrutiny apart from ensuring they have a space big (or small!) sufficient to suit your needs. The various other aspects our company deal with are actually going to help you slender things below listed here.

Shorten through considering room.

When you were actually assembling your first list, you looked at ability, yet it is crucial to deal with how the space will accommodate the a lot more details demands of your event beyond just headcount.

Are you heading to require breakout spaces to operate treatments together?

If individuals are actually stemming from away from town, will they have the ability to travel there effortlessly enough?

Do you really want the potential to use an outdoors food caterer?

You won't very possess the specifics you need to have to pick between finalists, but it is actually these kinds of concerns relating to "space" that are visiting help you get to that factor.

Time to speak times.

At this moment, you have a small checklist of venues that you assume can probably function properly for your event. The last filter that is actually mosting likely to help you narrow it to the finalists is actually whether or not there is space accessible for your times.

If you have a certain time,  you may be a little bit of limited. But if you're date is actually pliable, that's something you may leverage to pull down your quote when the moment comes. To acquire you to relocate from a busier day, places will commonly offer to pencil you in elsewhere on the calendar for a reduced price.

Submit your RFPs & & prepare yourself to negotiate.

When you have your listing of finalists in hand you'll need to provide a request for proposal to many of all of them (especially accommodations!) to acquire a quote about what your event may set you back. If the resort or place views sufficient potential value in your RFP, you'll get a proposition describing their quote in addition to the specifics of the companies included because rate aspect.

For the most part, the particulars of the plan aren't uncompromising. Along with some savvy skills as well as an edge of self-confidence, bargaining a location arrangement can easily bring about a last contract that's a lot more desirable than what resided in the preliminary proposal. Just remember: When possible, always request for an in-person website assessment before you sign on the dotted line.

Establish the event crew.

Unless your event is really little, you are actually heading to require a palm. Well actually, you are actually visiting need a couple of collections of all of them. Since while you might have the vision for the final product, you are actually going to be actually stretched a little bit of thin if you are actually anticipated to focus on every thing when planning an event. Plus, one thing like say, electronic advertising and marketing could not exactly be your forté.

As the visionary, your part is director. It's up to you to certainly not just construct your crew, but likewise to be sure that the many steering wheels are actually all turning in the right instructions.

Relying on the dimension of your event, listed below are actually a couple of team members that may aid you take care of all the moving components. You'll also be actually working with venue reps and also your decent portion of suppliers, however this is who you can consider your "inner" staff.

Marketing expert(s)

Our team'll mention every thing that goes into a great advertising and marketing plan a little later on in this post, but count on us when we say you may want an expert to assist you market your event. Marketer can easily aid you assembled a cohesive strategy stretching over a mix of channels, thus you can easily extend your grasp and entice folks to your event. (And take advantage of your advertising and marketing budget while you're at it!)

Course Administrators

When it comes to the success of your event, content is actually crucial-- particularly if the objective is actually to educate or promote. Your program supervisor(s) will help you create as well as carry out an engaging plan that always keeps guest interaction high for the entirety of your event.

Accountant/Treasurer

Events must both go by the book as well as keep whatever on the books. For larger events, that could be a bit a lot more complex. A treasurer or even financial advisor will certainly assist keep your finances so as and be sure you're remaining within your spending plan. (If you are actually putting on a fundraising event, you're absolutely heading to require one!)

Imaginative

What's your event logo design? What are your shades? Just how are you visiting deliver the character (e.g. brand & & vocal) to lifestyle? Each of these are inquiries for imaginative specialists like visuals developers and copy writers. These employee function carefully with your advertising team and also system supervisors to see to it all interactions and security embody your company.

Generate a compelling & & active event schedule.

The times of back to back sound speakers in a ballroom are over! In today times, event organizers and staffs need to flex their creative chops to always keep participants engaged. The best successful technique to offer guests a wonderful take in is actually by letting them place the program in their personal gives. (Remember your personas!) That suggests property alternatives right into both the event room and also the schedule.

It additionally indicates generating creative event concepts that make material shipment an active knowledge. Given that at the end of the time, participants desire a chance to include in the chat and also associate with one another around the web content provided.

A suggestion for customization

Only have one room in the place? It's still feasible to make one spot think that many and also give your guests the wide array they yearn for. Along with some portable walls, a bit of creative imagination, as well as some decoration variety, you can make several rooms within one room. These spaces may at that point be utilized as escapement areas, spaces for attendees to "disconnect," making contacts areas, and even more.

An idea for making more communication

Do not let your visitors get also pleasant in their seats! Some coordinators are performing this, especially at networking events, through delivering less chairs than there are actually actual attendees. When individuals are standing and moving, it propels spontaneous interactions and also promotes guests to motor around and meet brand new folks.

Once you understand just how to plan an event ...

It's time to take the assemble and also make an excellent event adventure. Planning an event takes a while, loan, and creativity. Combine those three points with these 10 measures, and you'll be actually well on your means.

To find out more Please

check out web site

Re:CREATORS Original Soundtrack — Review

Yeah, I’m doing this. I started this like 2 weeks ago but didn’t have that much time to listen through the whole thing. Regardless, I have heard every song that Sawano has made for this series and I plan to watch the anime sometime in summer.

Now, to make clear what exactly I will be sharing my opinions on, I have listened to both discs of the OST, the Rearrange CD and the gravityWall/shØut album for Re:CREATORS.

The way I’ll do this is, I will post the notes I took when I listened to each of the songs for the first time and give my overall rating (1-10) at the end. Also, if you haven’t heard the OST but want to experience it fresh, this post may be full of music spoilers (NOT spoilers from the anime, obviously) for you. Whatever works best for you, of course.

Let’s do this.

Disc 1

01. God of Ink

First song! Without a doubt, kicks off very strong and slowly becomes more and more epic. Glad to get a new solo mpi song. I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve heard one of those. 

Anyway, the instruments used are great, though it gets slightly but very subtly repetitive around the 2nd chorus. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the song but I expected it to be a little more… uplifting? 

I expect the instrumental at the end will give me a better grasp of the feel. But the lyrics are great! Probably my favorite element of the song.

Rating: 8.5/10

02. rE:CRe@T0RS

Classic Sawano. It’s not a Sawano score if one of the tracks isn’t named after the series it’s used in. Well, apart from that, once again very intense start. 

This initially gave me the vibe of a surprise battle that happens in the middle of the city. (Don’t tell me if I’m right about this by the way). 

Overall, nicely put together in terms of sections. The middle kind of dulled out on me but the beginning and end.. just right.

Rating: 9.5/10

03. Re:3$penS

Okay so. First of all.. that bass. I’m assuming with some of these songs, the way I would enjoy them more would be to see the scene in the anime. I’m looking forward to this one specifically, as it imposes a feeling of danger and mystery. 

Very nice! The drums and guitar stand out the most, but it’s honestly so good overall.

Rating: 9/10

04. 4GL4yu8RE:E

Now this is what I’m talking about. Fast-paced theme which would fit any action scene! I love it. The orchestra stands out the most but the percussion… give me. I love the overall upbeat sound of it.

Now, the second half gave me chills. That piano was amazing and the drop… man, I don’t know what to say. Amazing song.

Rating: 9.5/10

05. Hey39-udn

Well, nothing too impressive about the first half. The second part, however, is the definition of lit. I love the synth honestly.. like, very upbeat. 

This is the first song on this OST I’ve heard so far that hypes you this much. (Barricades is the last song that gave me this vibe).

Rating: 8/10

06. RE:3343

Before Listening

I’ve seen memes about this song and its name. And memes are good. Expectations are high, but let’s see if they sail high on the high winds. 

After Listening

Okay, well.. this was not what I expected lmao. It sounds like it’s on the Grenzlinie borderline of being either a “standard” track or an atmospheric/ambience track.

I like it, though! Gives off this weird feeling of hollowness but also.. hope? Not the best way to describe, it I know. But the subtle sounds in the background are very nice.

Rating: 9/10

07. HERE I AM

Am I listening to Sawano or is this vocaloid?

I’m just joking. I love this song.

Though... this sounds like it’s supposed to be an ED rather than an actual theme but considering how different it is than gravityWall, I’m just gonna guess that I’m wrong about that one. 

I can only imagine what kind of character or scene this is used in. Honestly though, it made me laugh. It’s quite cheerful and upbeat and the lyrics are gold. I’m not kidding. Actually.. screw it. This one gets the perfect rating from me. GG Sawano.

Rating: 10/10

08. 2109-a8Ru件

Yo. YO. I’m going around giving perfect ratings as if it was free… well.. that’s what it feels like at least. 

BOI. I can jam to this. 

This is nice. This is very good. 

The Daily Life from the snk soundtrack is a great chill song but this outclasses it in every way. I love the percussion and the folk-ish sound at the beginning. Honestly like this is perfect in every way. One of the best tracks so far, no doubt!

Rating: 10/10

09. AL:Lu

Before Listening

Okay, this one…. Let’s see… how should I put this. I’ve seen thoughts about this song, mainly people saying it’s the best one. I have high expectations and I’m bracing myself for a slow, sad vocal song. 

If I’m wrong then you’re probably laughing while reading this. Here we go. 

After Listening 

…Okay. Well. I. Uhm. Uhhhhhhhhh. LMAO Okay so. AHAHAHAHAHAH. GODDAMN IS THIS HYPE. 

For the record, this is the first Eliana song I’ve heard. Apparently she was in Kabaneri as well? I don’t remember, but this is is new. AND IT’S AWESOME. GODDAMN SON! 

The lyrics are amazing, the song gets you hyped and… yeah Eliana is awesome. I am definitely going back to listen to this later. 

Note while writing this post

I’ve probably listened to this song like 40 times already and I have exactly zero regrets.

Rating: 10/10

10. 高度8b6n

Wow. This song is just pure hype. The badass guitar.. and that bass. Toshino Tanabe my boi, how did I not know who you were earlier so I could praise you. 

Honestly though, this one is great in terms of pacing, speed and intensity, so to say. I imagine the scene this is used in (if it’s already been used) is memorable. So far so good! I love it!

Rating: 9.5/10

11. 8sawOGRE6

This sounds like one of those tracks made for a purposely attractive female villain. 

Oh well. I like it, but it doesn’t stand out that much. Well, the middle does. I love the drums and the “hype” but apart from that, nothing too much. Still an amazing feel, though.

Rating: 8/10

12. Layers

Before Listening 

First a song that has “OGRE” in the title and then a song named “Layers”? What? Did Sawano browse Shrek memes for 5 hours before naming these songs? Well… I hope so because that would be dank. 

Anyway, I’ve also seen this one get a lot of praise and impatience when people were waiting for it. Let’s take a look and see what we get.

After Listening

Okay this was interesting! The lyrics definitely raise some questions though I already have an idea of what the concept of the series is. It’s good! 

I haven’t heard an Aimee Blackschleger song in a long time, the last time being Release My Soul MOD and DOA. 

Some parts are pure hype while others are just headbang material. I can’t quite say which one it leans to or.. if it’s the same or not, though lol. But I like it!

Also, it’s 4:20 minutes long. Dank af boi.

Rating: 420/69 9.5/10

13. re:pianohi1tars

This, my friends, is a piano masterpiece. It gives off so many emotions at once it’s hard to keep track of it. Like, the fast pacing and the “epicness” behind it is just mind-blowing. 

It’s a balanced track that doesn’t go in too many directions but it delivers the feeling it’s trying to convey JUST right. Nice one! 

Rating: 9/10

14. ∞GodMachine

Note Before Listening

This sounds like it’s going to be an all out grand and heavy orchestra. I’ve seen SOME talks about this one, so I’m bracing myself. 

After Listening

Well. I’m not TOO impressed by the second half, but the first one is great! I love the part before the transition to the second part.. if that makes sense. 

The percussion and synth is very pleasant to listen to, though it isn’t nearly as “hype” if you may… not counting the first half. Great song overall but not too many highlights for me… but still great dontgetmewrong. 

Rating: 8.5/10

15. ABYSSwaltz

The song title is cool. Everything else… not so cool. 

Seriously, Gemie’s German pronunciations shorten my lifespan with each millisecond. The song itself doesn’t sound TOO bad but it’s not really something I can enjoy that much or.. interpret, I guess. 

The lyrics kind of work, but.. well… yeah... not really much of a highlight.

Rating: 6.5/10

16. Pf:Creators

I laughed at the last 3 seconds. This is gold. Did I mention how much I love chill songs I can just jam to? I love it, honestly. 

Kind of repetitive at parts but I can kind of visualize the scene it’s used in. Good stuff indeed.

Rating: 9/10

17. 音:9RE:eita-zu

This one was long. Or, I guess you can say… zu long. It’s nice, though! 

I am especially fond of the last minute and a half, though the rest of the orchestra throughout the track doesn’t stand out to me as much. 

It’s enjoyable to listen to but not too many highlights. The instruments used are mind-blowing, however and have all of my yes.

Rating: 9/10

18. BRAVE THE OCEAN

Yep. Eliana is definitely on her way to being my favorite female vocalist. Honestly... amazing and powerful voice which conveys a strong feeling. 

As for the song itself, I wouldn’t say it’s something I would listen to extensively. It’s upbeat and.. sounds like an ED song at the end of a cour or a really happy episode. Can’t quite put my finger on it. 

The lyrics are fine, though I guess it’s a tiny bit too upbeat for me. HERE I AM nailed that aspect though, to avoid contradicting myself.

Rating: 8.5/10

Disc 2

01. E:verydaytor1

This song has like… so many parts. I like the cheerful and uplifting tone of the last few minutes, but overall I feel like putting so many different tones in one track is a bit overkill, even for Sawano. 

Regardless, I really like the last 2 minutes but overall it’s a bit excessive and not enough highlights.

Rating: 7/10

02. Pf:CreatorsII

Before Listening

Oh, there’s a sequel to Pf:Creators. Okay. 

After Listening

Oh, it’s completely different than the first one. Lmao.

I love me some good piano. So relaxing and soothing… idk what else to say about it but it pulls your heartstrings. I imagine the scene this is used in at.

Rating: 9/10

03. E:verydaytor2

Before Listening

Uhh… okay. Sequel again? Is there some kind of pattern here that I am missing?

After Listening

Okay, I get it. I see the remaining tracks below and it seems like these are the atmospheric tracks with consecutive naming patterns… familiar and typicial of Sawano. It’s like Disc 2 of Snk S2 all over again lmao. 

Anyways I like how cheerful this is but it really didn’t stick out to me that much. It’s an average track so to say.

Rating: 7/10

04. Pf:CreatorsIII

A TRILOGY! 

Now this I can get behind! Creepy, kind of sad and kind of… foreshadowing something to happen. Hard to describe but it’s that good feeling of creepiness.

Rating: 9.5/10

05. SawElephant4

Before Listening

TFW Sawano breaks his own naming combo. YouSawBIGGELEPHA/N:T??? 

After Listening

Damn. Bury me under all of those creepy strings. I love it honesty. Near-flawless choice of instruments and composition and very interesting to listen to. 

Very fond of the entire song and not just certain sections. I can get behind this, honestly.

Rating: 9.5/10

06. Pf:CreatorsIV

Before Listening

Not a trilogy anymore... nevermind.

After Listening

Ah, here we go. The first song I’ve heard on this OST that almost made me cry. Seriously... the piano songs are always the sneaky ones. Damn ninjas cutting onions. Amazing piece.

Rating: 10/10

07. E:verydaytor3

…This song is just funny. Lmao. 

The percussion and perfectly placed sound effects are the catchiest thing I’ve heard in a long time. I want to watch the anime just to see where this is used in, to be honest.

Rating: 9.5/10

08. Pf:CreatorsV

What beautiful piano. It’s a really soothing and catching song that messes with your feelings. I love it.

It doesn’t have too many highlights for me to point out but it’s a nice song. Somewhat average but quite nice nonetheless.

Rating: 8/10

09. God-ground2SAY310

I feel like this is one of those songs where I need to listen to it multiple times to actually appreciate it enough. 

It has an interest instrument choice, but for an “atmospheric” track, I’d say it’s slightly weak. It’s not necessarily a bad song but I guess it conveys what it’s trying to convey.

Rating: 6.5/10

10. Pf:CreatorsVI

Creepy atmospheric piano track FTW.

To be completely honest, it’s average. But because of my personal enjoyment and love for creepy, slow, ominous music, I think I can dig it. A lot.

Rating: 9/10

11. E:verydaytor4

Have I mentioned how much I love upbeat folk jams? Because I do. 

This one gets it. I’m kind of curious about the second half as it sounds like it would play in the last few seconds of the series finale… not that I would know. 

Either way, this one gets the one and only perfect rating because of that first half. Amazing.

Rating: 10/10

12. DA-world2HEN90

Woah, this one was short. 

Anyway, nice soothing guitar! I love me some of that. I wish I could say more about this one to be honest but that’s really it. 

Nice guitarist you got there, Sawano.

Rating: 9/10

13. God of ink (Instrumental)

I love it. It’s a very good standalone song and works just as fine as it does without mpi’s vocals. 

Don’t get be wrong, I love both versions but with this one I can appreciate the guitar more!

Also, I’m a sucker for slides. lmao

Rating: 9/10

14. HERE I AM (Instrumental)

I’m.. not even gonna say anything.

This song just makes you happy. That’s it.

Both with and without the vocals, it’s catchy af just makes you smile and laugh. I love them both.

Rating: 10/10

15. Layers (Instrumental)

Oh... OH.

Holy fuck.

That guitar and those drums… sorry Aimee, this version is a lot better. 

I dare say this is the best song on the entire OST.. if not, I’m putting it in the same league as AL:Lu. A ridiculously good Sawano piece and one that I will definitely come back to. I didn’t expect it to be this good since I wasn’t TOO impressed with vocals for Layers (I mean I love it but it isn’t really a highlight for me) but… 

Yeah. 

This is perfection and pure badass.

Rating: 10/10

16. BRAVE THE OCEAN (Instrumental)

Aaaaand yeah. This is ALSO better than the vocals, as much as I like Eliana after AL:Lu. 

Goddamn it. This is really nice to listen to, especially after the second half when the guitar kicks in. I thought the song was slightly too upbeat for my taste but this I can get behind. Quite chilling and nice to listen to!

Rating: 10/10

Rearrange CD

01. God of ink <MODv>

Okay. I prefer this more than the original version. Those drums are lovely and so is the extra piano. I’m glad they kept the original riff, but like.. the drums. 

Too good. Out of the three versions that this song has, I still like the instrumental of the original the most, though this one is the better vocal version in my opinion.

Rating: 10/10

02. Layers <MODv>

HOLY SHIT THAT GUITAR RIFF!! CHILL SAWANO OH MY GOD I WAS NOT READY. 

Okay the strings are kind of… not sure. I like the drums. If this one had an instrumental I guess I would appreciate it more but to be honest this is great! 

Putting it on equal terms with the original as they both have their own unique things about them. This one makes heavier use of instruments but the original is more upbeat and intense. When it all comes down to, I prefer the instrumental of the original here as well, obviously.

Rating: 9.5/10

03. BRAVE THE OCEAN <MODv>

Okay, this one works a lot better. I can actually listen to the lyrics a lot easier with a lighter use of techno-ish drums. I love them a lot, especially after the first chorus. 

Overall, this is definitely better than the original BRAVE THE OCEAN and conveys a much brighter feeling, at least from my perspective.

Rating: 10/10

gravityWall/shØut

Note: For the record, this is not really a “Blind” listen because I already heard all of these songs yesterday when they came out (I couldn’t contain myself). The same goes for gravityWall, which I’ve heard a while ago, but regardless, I will share my thoughts on all of them per procedure, and one of these holds the title of Best Song.

01. gravityWall

The first OP! I have to admit, I kind of skimmed through it when the TV-Size version came out with the anime. I don’t know why. 

But when the full version came out, I listened the fuck out of it. I love it, honestly. Gemie and Tielle make an amazing combination. I could complain about Tielle’s lyric-writing skills during the English parts, but it still works, I guess. Amazing song.

Rating: 9.5/10

02. gravityWall (Instrumental)

This song works better with vocals. It’s nice to listen to, but I don’t think it’s good enough to be its own song. Like I said, Gemie and Tielle make the best combo and it worked perfectly with the vocals. But without them... eh, not really.

Rating: 7.5/10

03. shØut

Here it is. The one and only. After having listened to every single song Sawano has made for Re:CREATORS, this one takes the cake for my number 1 favorite. Only HAIRS ahead of Layers (Instrumental). and the next song you will see below. I love it.

Funny thing. Originally my favorite was AL:Lu, but I really loved gravityWall. Then again, gravityWall is an OP so it obviously needs to have a different and better sound than the soundtrack pieces.

Well, with this song, it’s not a problem. Because shØut is AL:Lu made into an OP. Like.. WHAT?! Fucking perfect. It’s so satisfying to actually acknowledge this song’s existence yet alone listen to it. Sawano delievered. Perfect. Did I mention Gemie and Tielle do the combo again? Just... No words.

Rating: 10/10

04. shØut (Instrumental)

HAHA. Even without the Tiellie Combo™ (that’s what I’m calling it now, deal with it), this sound still kicks your ass either way. 

I just feel bad putting it and its vocal version to compete, but I can listen to both depending on what mood I am in. 

Although I said shØut was my favorite, in reality I love both of these equally. None is better. I put the vocal version on there but I don’t like one more than the other. Just kill me if I need to choose one. The chorus without vocals especially is too badass for it.

Rating: 10/10

05. oldToday

From what I have gathered, this is a standalone song that is neither part of the OST, nor is it used anywhere. 

It should be. It’s.. just so beautiful. I don’t dig the beginning too much the second half is just amazing. Bury me with it because it’s so beautiful... just.. perfection. If you want to cry of happiness, this is of you.

Rating: 10/10

Results (Average Rating)

Disc 1: 8.94

Disc 2: 8.31

Rearrange CD: 9.83

gravityWall/shØut: 9.40

Final Rating: 9.12

Conclusion

Overall, I would say this OST is simply amazing. To be perfectly honest, there are only a handful of songs I would actually go back and listen to, but the ones I would are just simply amazing. Sawano definitely showed some greatness here, but I wouldn’t say this is his highlight score of any kind. There’s definitely a lot of tracks, but in my opinion, Guilty Crown, Crisis and OST have an insanely large count of memorable songs.

Maybe that’s just my opinion. Maybe it’s because I haven’t actually seen the anime and got to experience the songs the way they are supposed to be experienced. Don’t worry. I plan to watch it in summer. My knowledge of it isn’t too positive from what I’ve heard, but I do plan to give it a try, regardless of that. The music is simply amazing

Should you give it a try? Oh, absolutely. It has a wide variety of tracks which all convey different feelings. I’m sure there’s at least 2 or 3 in there that will appeal to you in one way or another. Until next time!

Overall Favorite Track:  shØut

Final Rating (Again): 9,12

Mar 15 Blurr’s Horror Stream - A Monster Calls

Prowl continued to lack a verbal filter.

Welcome to the 'speedxstealer' room. The chat room has been cleared by the moderator. B l u r r: / he is present. Dragging himself in with a thermal over him. / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave trudges in and makes himself comfortable on his couch, lights dimming a bit as he exercises his right to slightly improper posture.* Shockbox: *He's here, he's queer, and ready for human fear.* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((PFFFFF)) Shockbox: *In other words, he arrives on time as usual and heads to his seat.* B l u r r: (( omfg )) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Plays a waving animation on his screen. Hello to those already here and just walking in.* B l u r r: / burrows on his couch with his thermal. Is a lump of thermal / B l u r r: / with maybe a helm fin sticking out / Shockbox: *He nods back on his way to his seat. Upon observation of the others, it seems all of them are a little worse for wear.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *He sees someone drowning in warmth. Probably Blurr. That's as it should be. Warmth for everyone. Defy the cold ship air.* B l u r r: / sticks claw out to wave to everyone / FakeProwl: *GUESS WHO'S STILL INJURED. it's this guy.* FakeProwl: *at least he's in the right avatar this week.* Whirl: *trots in and clambers into his hammock, as is customary* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Pings Prowl hello and repeats the waving animation for Whirl.* B l u r r: / tugs thermal down so he can see his screen better / boomtank: -is here now- Drift: *for the first time in like... ten years. he arrives.* B l u r r: / not that he's reading it. Hes more or less just staring at it. / FakeProwl: Hello. *sits with Soundwave* Whirl: *bob his head to Soundwave, and then to Blurr* B l u r r: / flicks left finial. Give him a delayed thirty seconds / B l u r r: ... / waves at whirl / Shockbox: *Ah, a shame, the predacon skin was more interesting, in Shockwave's opinion.* B l u r r: / another delayed thirty seconds. Wiggles claws a little sloppily at Drift / ItsyBitsySpyers: *More pings and lazy screen waves to all. A big crowd tonight. He'll have to make sure none of them run Prowl onto unwelcome topics.* Drift: Hey! *flops down next to Blurr and wraps an arm around him.* Drift: What've I missed. B l u r r: .... / opens mouth and just closes it. Just has a very 8I face / Drift: ... A lot, huh. B l u r r: ... Mm. Drift: I'm sorry I haven't been around. We've been registering new crewmates and preparing to take off again. B l u r r: Mm... /shakes helm / B l u r r: / holds up a digit and pulls himself under his thermal. He's rummaging around for something / B l u r r: / tugs thermal off his helm and hands Drift the equivalent of a dictionary, but it's a popup book / boomtank: -sits somewhere he can- Drift: *what is this* B l u r r: / it's the history of the last like month / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Amused.* B l u r r: [[ LS, not today. ]] Drift: *how many words are in this holy slag* B l u r r: / there aren't many words. Just pop ups / B l u r r: / hums and settles again/ That should about cover it. B l u r r: [[ lemme know when yall are ready ]] Drift: *okay then, he's gonna read* Whirl: ((I am ready!) B l u r r: / spoiler alert, the fight is the first thing ur gonna reaD / ItsyBitsySpyers: ((ready)) Shockbox: (( Quite ready.)) Drift: *WHICH fight* Drift: ((ready!)) B l u r r: / the JT one / B l u r r: [[ okiiie. We start ! ]] Drift: *does it say why he had the fight* B l u r r: / Not high key. Maybe low key. / B l u r r: / low key as in : I did something wrong says Blurr. / B l u r r: / not u / Drift: ... What. Drift: *skips forward like fifty pages* B l u r r: [[ omfg DRIFT ]] boomtank: ready)) B l u r r: [[ U CANT SKIP PAGES ]] Drift: *HE NEEDS TO KNOW BLURR'S GONNA BE OKAY* ItsyBitsySpyers: *...BLURR'S RIGHT THERE* Whirl: I can give you a super-abridhed Whirl Perspective on what's been goin on with Teach. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[If Drift doesn't want it, he does.]] Drift: I'll take it! B l u r r: / I AM ALIVE / Drift: *he'll read the details after he gets the summary* Whirl: Ahem, B l u r r: / makes a face / Whirl: Blurr met a very dashing Wrecker from another universe, did some pretty damn heroic stuff, like, we're talking BIG HERO STUFF, on Earth--and I know 'cause I was there, saw it with my own eye. Whirl: We had a good time blowing stuff up, Blurr rescued some guys, and, if I'm not mistaken, hit it off with that aforementioned charming Wrecker of his. Shockbox: *Well. This is an eventful start.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Not wasting any time, this movie.* Whirl: And then he did... something, killed some pirates? And got that THING you see on his back. *gestures to the upgrade* And then went into a sort of almost-coma and wouldn't wake up for weeks. Whirl: But he's better now. I still say he should get rid of the thing, though. B l u r r: I was not in a coma. Whirl: It was practically a coma. B l u r r: It was not a /coma/ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ohhhh, what a voice.* B l u r r: / looks at drift/ I was not in a coma. B l u r r: I just don't remember three weeks out of the month. Drift: YOU WERE IN A COMA?! B l u r r: It was not a COMA FakeProwl: Don't shout. It's painful. Drift: Why were you in a coma?! B l u r r: I wasn't- /vents/ my processor didn't want to... function. B l u r r: here. B l u r r: In the... present. Drift: You were in a depression coma?! Why were you in a depression coma! B l u r r: ... you skipped half the book. B l u r r: Why are you asking me questions that are answered in the book- oh for pit sake. B l u r r: I got into a fight. Whirl: Yeah, when your processor stops working, what do we call that? A COMA. Drift: *goes back to the beginning* Whirl: And nobody will LISTEN to me, but I'm pretty sure it's cos of that mod he's got. Overburderdening his processor. B l u r r: Yes, but a coma... oh , fine. Call it a coma. Whirl: ...*overburdening Whirl: ((good job me)) FakeProwl: Either a coma or brain death. FakeProwl: It depends on the extent. B l u r r: It was near brain death, according to Axis. Drift: Why did your brain nearly die!! Drift: Is it fixed? Is it going to happen again? B l u r r: / rubs temples / I don't... know. B l u r r: No, it's not fixed... it can't be fixed. Whirl: *points! Emphatically! At the speed booster!!!* Whirl: THAT. B l u r r: As for it happening again, I don't know. Drift: Why can't it be fixed?! Just take the thing off! B l u r r: It's not the mod! Shockbox: *Could the boy have not bitten the bully's hand?* Drift: How do you know?! B l u r r: Because it was happening before it! Whirl: Well... I'm sure the mod isn't helping. But also, this is the first I'VE heard of that. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh, early human movie devices. He sits up a little.* B l u r r: / chin claws and looks at the screen / FakeProwl: ... I've just realized I'm not paying attention to the movie. FakeProwl: I should start paying attention to the movie. Whirl: That's generally the best way to enjoy a movie. Audencies and critic alike agree. B l u r r: / rolls optic / ItsyBitsySpyers: (txt): Summary needed? FakeProwl: Yes, I think it's the best way to enjoy a movie too. B l u r r: / monster!! / FakeProwl: ... Oh. That was probably sarcasm. Whirl: I mean... not REALLY. I'm telling the truth. Whirl: Think of it more as "wry commentary tempered with amusement." Shockbox: *Very intrigued by this monster.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *HAS to show this to Wheeljack.* Shockbox: */His/ turn to sit up straighter.* FakeProwl: I did not catch the wryness or the amusement. FakeProwl: Thank you for the description of your tone. B l u r r: / tugs thermal down more so he can see better / Whirl: *shrugs* I've gotten PRETTY good at modulating, but sometimes I guess the ol' vocalizer goes flat. FakeProwl: I don't know. I just can't hear tone well. Whirl: Lord, between my sub-par vocalizer and youre crappy hearing, it's a wonder we get ANYTHING done. Shockbox: *The creature rates a 6.5/10 on his personal monster scale.* FakeProwl: Do we get anything done? Whirl: I mean as far as understanding each other. FakeProwl: Do we understand each other? Whirl: You tend to make yourself pretty clear, most of the time. *swivels his helm around to fix Prowl with a deadpan, half-lidded optic* So I think I understand you. Whirl: I'm sure you think you understand me, like most folks. B l u r r: Anyway /half mumbling/ If you have any other questions... /nudges Drift / Let me know. B l u r r: Though, I made the book fairly simple. Drift: *what was that? he's reading in terror right now* B l u r r: / oh my god. / FakeProwl: Oh. Good. I'm usually not sure people understand me. Especially when it's people like you who tend to ignore whatever I'm saying. FakeProwl: It's hard to tell whether I'm being ignored or being misunderstood. Whirl: Probably mostly ignored. FakeProwl: That's disheartening. And depressing. If I'm being misunderstood I have the hope of correcting the misconception. There's little that can be done about being ignored. Whirl: Don't take it personal, mech, I ignore a lot of people. B l u r r: [[ lemme know if it drops a lot btw ]] Whirl: *Whirl's gotta agree with Soundwave on the voice, really* FakeProwl: I know you do. And a lot of people ignore me. The fact that it isn't meant personally doesn't mean it doesn't have a personal impact on me. Whirl: If it makes you feel any better, it's not likely to personally affect you, since we're not exactly part of the same chain of command anymore. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Should he interrupt this conversation? ... Maybe it's something others should hear. He's not sure. Will keep an audial on it.* FakeProwl: Every time I try to communicate with somebody and they flat out ignore what I'm trying to communicate, it has a personal effect on me. FakeProwl: *he probably would have liked to be interrupted about fifteen minutes ago* FakeProwl: *he would still like to be interrupted* Whirl: That only counts if you actually care about the other person in the transaction. Whirl: And we both know that's not the case here. *snort* FakeProwl: That isn't true. FakeProwl: I would not attempt communication with a person if it did not matter to me that they hear what I'm saying. ItsyBitsySpyers: *...Maybe he should. This could change his reputation. Does Prowl want that reputation? No, no. Wrong question. Does he need that reputation? Probably.* Whirl: So, what exactly is it, then, that you think is so important for me to hear? What could you have to say to me that would really matter, Prowl? ItsyBitsySpyers: (txt): Prowl has heard this tale before? FakeProwl: Right now? Nothing. I don't think I've said anything I actually meant to say since I got a pipe in my head. Whirl: You should get that looked at. FakeProwl: *focuses on Soundwave* No. It's unfamiliar. Why? Whirl: @P: Because, you see, mech, the only things you've been saying to me laately are how stupid and useless I am--so forgive me if I ignore 'em. ItsyBitsySpyers: (txt): Then perhaps Prowl should focus, listen. Vital to film story. B l u r r: /paying close attention to the story tbh / FakeProwl: I'm trying to. It's hard. I'm being talked to. ItsyBitsySpyers: @P: (txt): Prowl cannot filter audio input? B l u r r: ... /wow this shiit is deep / Whirl: That was a long and fancy way of saying, "life's unfair." B l u r r: Some people need long and fancy to get it through their thick heads. FakeProwl: It's hard right now. Drift: WHAT?!?! Drift: *he finished the book* B l u r r: / flicks finial. Geez that was right next to him / FakeProwl: ... And people keep shouting. B l u r r: / reaches over. Pats Drift / Drift: Are you okay?! ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Please contain your voices.]] Whirl: I'd think most of us would've learned it when life was kicking us in the teeth. Whirl: *now looks to Drift curiously* B l u r r: / tilts helm. Thinking / Drift: *attempts to contain.* Are you joining Optimus? Are you dating Roadbuster? Are you moving to that universe?? B l u r r: / makes a face / What- slow down. Pits. B l u r r: No, I'm not... I don't know about Optimus Prime of Tyran. He's ideal, but he's not... No, I'm not his type of Autobot. Whirl: He is totally dating Roadbuster. I can confirm this. B l u r r: I'm not moving anywhere, I live on The Emperor. Shockbox: (( Sounds pretty gay.)) FakeProwl: I dislike shouting. Why were we given the option to shout? Whirl: It's fun. FakeProwl: It's not fun, it's painful. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[So that others may hear us over other nosies in emergencies.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: noises not nosies omg)) FakeProwl: Wait. You enjoy enducing pain. FakeProwl: We could use comms for that. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[And if they are damaged?]] Whirl: It's not always painful. Does it--*now looks back to Prowl, curious again* You audials ARE really messed up. B l u r r: / makes a slight face/ And Roadbuster and I are... sort of... working on. Something. B l u r r: / they're 100% dating tbh / FakeProwl: It's not my audials. FakeProwl: ... I am going to focus on Soundwave's comment before you ask follow up questions. ItsyBitsySpyers: *A wise idea.* Whirl: Knock yourself out, mech. FakeProwl: If they are damaged, louder volume is a viable option. Whirl: *shrugs and returns to the movie* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Then that is one good reason why we have it.]] Whirl: *for the record Whirl is still totally unclear on what Prowl's exact deal is; he just knows he's being weird* Whirl: *and that he has a pipe in his head* ItsyBitsySpyers: *...This is a dream, isn't it.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *It's too happy for this setting.* FakeProwl: It shouldn't be used outside of emergencies, then. FakeProwl: I don't use my sirens outside of emergencies. B l u r r: [ is it dropping? ]] FakeProwl: ((fine here)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((nope)) Whirl: ((runnin fione!)) B l u r r: anyway... /vents/ I'm fine. / the usual response / Drift: In all the time I've known you, you've never been fine once. B l u r r: / sheepish shrug / Whirl: *SNORTS* Whirl: He speaks the truth, Teach. Drift: *pets Blurr's head* But, you're... not as bad as you've been. B l u r r: / makes a face /What's what mean? Drift: Well, you're not in a coma right now. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave considers this claim a moment. The answer's going to be public. He has to word this carefully.* Drift: And you're not actively dying, as far as I know. Whirl: That IS a big improvement over the usual. B l u r r: Not at the moment, no. Whirl: ...is this kid gonna throw a tantrum and break that clock. B l u r r: Most of my wounds from Thundertron are healed up. Drift: ... I'm—sorry, that I missed all that. That I wasn't here, when you were... B l u r r: And the damage from ... well. the first fight is done. FakeProwl: He is probably going to destroy the clock. FakeProwl: The clock is innocent. He shouldn't. Whirl: That little piece of sh it. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Some enjoy hearing berth partner voice raised in satisfaction. That, second reason. B l u r r: / looks at drift. Shakes helm / You said you were busy. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ahh, another story. He splits a little more focus toward the movie again.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He believes this qualifies as breaking the 'touching something' rule.]] FakeProwl: If people have loud voices for emergency situations, then they can use those voices in the berth for partners who enjoy hearing it. That's no reason to shout in public. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You didn't specify public. You simply asked why we have the option.]] Whirl: I still maintain that shouting can be fun. FakeProwl: ... I did. Fair. FakeProwl: Why? Does Windchill like hearing it? Whirl: Hm. I dunno, we rarely yell at each other. Usually we sing at each other. Whirl: It's just enjoyable to yell. B l u r r: ...Well, he's right. It's satisfying. B l u r r: Very much so... B l u r r: / oh god its all so satisfying / Whirl: I hate him. Drift: *likes the moral of this story. it's... vindicating.* B l u r r: That's what my room looks like. /snort / B l u r r: / it's not funny but it's funny / Whirl: So we're, what, supposed to feel sorry for this kid? After he destroyed her house? B l u r r: who cares about her house? Whirl: It's not like she's going through the trauma of watching her DAUGHTER die, or anything. FakeProwl: Why do you hate him? He's destroying things in a senseless rage. Isn't that right up your alley? Whirl: Hey, all of my rages are entirely sensible. FakeProwl: So is his, from his perspective. B l u r r: Sometimes you can't control where your anger goes. /mumbling/ FakeProwl: Why do you hate him? Whirl: Well first of all, he destroyed a clock. That's practically a crime. Whirl: Second of all, he's useless and pathetic. B l u r r: Why's that? FakeProwl: ... Destroying someone else's property IS a crime. Whirl: I dunno, it'd be different, maybe, if he was even the least bit likeable. But he's a sniveling little wimp. FakeProwl: You're... protective of clocks? I didn't know that. Whirl: Won't even hit back when someone picks on him. B l u r r: / shrugs / Whirl: There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Prowl. FakeProwl: I know. B l u r r: sometimes it's harder to do that. Whirl: The only time it's hard is when you can't get to them, really. I mean, if they get away or something. B l u r r: / crosses arms and shifts / Or you can't beat them. Whirl: Pfft. Wouldn't know what THAT feels like. *preens* B l u r r: Sometimes it hurts so bad, you just take it out on the first thing you find. Like a room full of mostly junkish things... B l u r r: Or a cargo ship... B l u r r: / spacing out/ Or a pirate fleet... Whirl: *or a corpse. ...he's not saying that out loud* B l u r r: / staring off into the sky / FakeProwl: I don't take it out on the first thing I find. I save it to take it out on something that won't feel or inflict pain. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Listening to all of this and thinking to himself.* B l u r r: That takes too long. Whirl: *he's not even gonna comment, lest he say something incriminating* B l u r r: / flickering optic. Right, he has company / It's better to get rid of it fast. Whirl: Also, that's a dumb moral. Whirl: Believing doesn't get you anything. FakeProwl: No it's not. Getting rid of it fast hurts people that don't deserve the hurt. B l u r r: They can't hurt if they're dead. FakeProwl: Death is a near-infinite hurt. B l u r r: /shrugs shoulder / B l u r r: There are all types of infinite hurt. FakeProwl: There are. Death is one. B l u r r: Not always. FakeProwl: Always. B l u r r: If you let them go, yes. FakeProwl: ... Whose hurt are you talking about? I'm talking about the hurt of the person who dies. B l u r r: If they're dead, how do they hurt? B l u r r: Is their ghost going to come tell me how much it hurt? FakeProwl: It's the negation of every opportunity they could ever have in the future to be content or happy. B l u r r: You don't need to die to lose that in a future. FakeProwl: I never said you do. FakeProwl: Just that death is one way. B l u r r: / shrugs / Maybe where you're from. B l u r r: Where I'm from, once you die, you die. You get taken apart and they make someone different. FakeProwl: Are you suggesting that where your from, dying DOESN'T rob you of all future opportunities to be content or happy? FakeProwl: Are you claiming that you are capable of being content or happy after your death? B l u r r: You can't be- you're DEAD. FakeProwl: Exactly. Therefore, it's the same wehre you are. B l u r r: Once you die where I'm from, you cease existing at all. FakeProwl: Exactly. B l u r r: So how are you supposed to feel remorse when you're DEAD and CAN'T? FakeProwl: Who said anything about remorse? B l u r r: Oh for pit sake. FakeProwl: I don't know where remorse came from. B l u r r: You can't feel something if you're dead. B l u r r: nothing. Not a single thing. Not even pain. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Life is always in the eyes. Not the first time he's heard that. It makes him glad he covers his.* B l u r r: You can feel pain while /dying/. FakeProwl: I never said you could. B l u r r: I've been there plenty of times. B l u r r: then how is death near-infinite pain if you can't feel pain when you're dead? Whirl: *that is a phrase Whirl believes in, too* FakeProwl: I never said pain. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[It is near-infinite pain for those who knew them.]] B l u r r: / scoffs/ FakeProwl: Hurt. Hurt is not necessarily the presence of a negative. As I am using it, it is the absolute absence of any positive. B l u r r: Yes, hurt and I are practically attached at the hip. B l u r r: I know what hurt is. Whirl: Well, that depends, Soundwave. FakeProwl: Then why are you arguing? Whirl: Some people would celebrate if I killed, say, Tarn. Whirl: I can't imagine anyone would mourn HIM. FakeProwl: The DJD would mourn him. B l u r r: I'm saying that the cargo ship I slaughtered  helped ease my hurt more than it caused theirs. B l u r r: Nothing else was helping. THAT helped. FakeProwl: I don't mind if the DJD mourns. Whirl: That's based on the assumption that they actually CARE about one another. Whirl: Which is a pretty big leap. FakeProwl: They do. Whirl: Why? You got the inside scoop or something? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Negative, negative, abort.* B l u r r: / hums / Kill him, kid. FakeProwl: Yes. Spies work for me. Whirl: Oh. Well. ...asked and answered. Whirl: Either way, then, I just consider their distress a bonus. Whirl: My only regret will be that I won't be able to watch them mourn. B l u r r: There you go. Whirl: FINALLY. Whirl: He's finally done something to make him almost likeable. FakeProwl: ... He wants to be punished. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Of course he does.]] FakeProwl: If he isn't punished, he doesn't matter. He doesn't exist. FakeProwl: Not being punished tells him that he makes no impact upon the world. Whirl: Hm. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[There is a sense of failure as well.]] B l u r r: / ugh his buried feelings hurt / ItsyBitsySpyers: *They do indeed.* B l u r r: / flex claws. / B l u r r: / hhhh she reminds him of someone/ B l u r r: / yanks thermal over his helm / FakeProwl: This is a bad moral. Whirl: Agreed. FakeProwl: Don't break things that belong to other people. FakeProwl: Only break your own things. Whirl: It's just dumb. FakeProwl: ... Unless the other people deserve to have broken things. But those are rare cases. Whirl: *shakes his head; the film is not reachig him emotionally* FakeProwl: The DJD deserves to have broken things. If their things are broken, they can't kill as many people. Whirl: I'd rather break THEM. FakeProwl: Yes. Even better. Shockbox: *Not a fan of all this yelling, to be earnest.* Drift: *okay maybe it didn't touch whirl, but drift is feeling touched* Drift: *slowly clings to blurr* B l u r r: / tugs thermal down. Okay. He's good./ B l u r r: / pats Drift / Drift: *clings tighter* Whirl: Lord, just. Whirl: END THE SCENE. B l u r r: / is being clinged to / Whirl: Finally, sheesh. B l u r r: / pats Drift / Shockbox: *He and Whirl agree on something, for once.* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((NO IT DROPPED)) Whirl: ((whop.... it gone)) Drift: ((IT'S BLACK)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((AAAAAAH)) B l u r r: [[ i already paused it ]] B l u r r: [[lemme know when it's back. it reset ]] Drift: ((offline right now)) B l u r r: [[ well it WAS back. ]] B l u r r: [[ anyway it's paused, so. we can wait til LS gets its shiit together ]] Whirl: *steeetches in his hammock* B l u r r: / scrubs faceplate / Whirl: What were we even talking about? B l u r r: Pits, I don't know. B l u r r: I spaced out again. Whirl: *eyes him dubiously* You spaced out or you SPACED out? FakeProwl: This is the danger of giving people the ability to raise their volume so that they can use it during emergencies. B l u r r: What's the difference? FakeProwl: This was obviously an emergency but his shouting was useless. FakeProwl: And painful. Whirl: Like, normal spacing out or "your broken brain is messing up" spacing out? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[We do not know that it was useless. We have not seen the end.]] B l u r r: ... Dodge and Velocity were taking my attention over for the moment. Whirl: Oh, gotcha. Normal spacing out. FakeProwl: He did not summon help or give her necessary instructions to save herself. B l u r r: I spent all day with them yesterday, I don't know why they're being so demanding. Whirl: And, Prowl--sometimes, when you're feeling a lot of emotion, you just yell. Drift: Tell Velocity to shut up. Whirl: When your exhilarated, for instance. Whirl: *you're B l u r r: ... Ah. /twitches finials and looks at Drift / FakeProwl: That's why yelling is a bad skill to have. Whirl: It just bursts out. FakeProwl: It's too easy to abuse. B l u r r: I forgot to mention... /shrugs / Velocity is prominent right now. Whirl: It's not a skill, it's a reaction. B l u r r: He and Dodge both catch my attention much easier since I woke up. FakeProwl: If people have to have it in case of emergency, it should be something that can only manually be turned on. Whirl: Like flinching, or how you people sneeze, and stuff. B l u r r: Axis says it's an effect of my semi-long term catatonic state. B l u r r: [[ is it back ?? ]] Whirl: ((not yet)) Drift: ((nop)) Drift: Comas give you Velocity? Drift: Blurr, you're never allowed to have a coma again. B l u r r: No... Whirl: I'm glad *mine* didn't. B l u r r: The situation before all of that. B l u r r: That gave me Velocity. Drift: What's the new Optimus's number? I'm going to comm him and tell him to order you to never have a coma again. Whirl: I'd have to rip my brain module out of my head. B l u r r: [[ I reset it. So, idk if it's working ]] Whirl: ((THERE WE GO)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((aha!)) B l u r r: ... Don't. He's not my boss. Drift: Would it work? Drift: ((there it go)) Whirl: ...*sly look* Drift. B l u r r: ... I don't know. Drift: Yeah? Whirl: You should him Blurr needs a good stepping-on. B l u r r: [[ okay is it back for everyone ?? ]] Drift: ... *sly grin* B l u r r: ... / scrubs faceplate / FakeProwl: I think Blurr should be stepped on. Whirl: *snickers* FakeProwl: In a fatal way. B l u r r: Me too. Whirl: Well, I don't. FakeProwl: He believes that curing his own pain is more important than other people's lives. That's terrible. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Was going to protest that being said out loud, but Blurr just agreed, so...* B l u r r: ... /snort / B l u r r: I never said I was a good person. B l u r r: [[ soo... can we go now? ]] Drift: ((ye)) Whirl: ((yes)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((yep)) Drift: Maybe not, Blurr. But you are... a hero. B l u r r: ... Stop. B l u r r: / crosses arms/ I did a few people a few favors. B l u r r: That's it. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You are entitled to think these things about shouting. Mind that you do not say them to Frenzy.]] Whirl: You saved a lot of Autobots' lives. FakeProwl: Frenzy can't help himself. Whirl: Hero. *points* B l u r r: Not a hero. /huffs / Whirl: Yep. B l u r r: The point is, I don't work for that Prime. B l u r r: / yet. / Drift: ... Would you if he stepped on you? B l u r r: I'd be ecstatic if he stepped on me. Whirl: *snickers* B l u r r: But, I don't work for him, or with him. We don't even talk. FakeProwl: That is a good moral. FakeProwl: Thoughts and beliefs do not matter. Only actions. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Small nod.* Whirl: *considers this* Whirl: *yeah he'd have to agree. But he' Whirl: s not going to say it out loud* FakeProwl: *rude. prowl's been baring his soul over here tonight and whirl won't even agree with him when he's right.* FakeProwl: *admittedly, prowl hasn't been WILLINGLY baring his soul, but.* Whirl: *it absolutely IS rude, but Whirl dislikes Prowl for the moment* B l u r r: ... / oh for pit sake his insides hurt / B l u r r: / makes a noise / FakeProwl: *"for the moment"* Whirl: *anything is possible* Whirl: *he's still carrying a grudge from that last meeting* B l u r r: / hhhhh. his insides are hurting more / FakeProwl: This is sad. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave's spark has joined Blurr's insides in aching. This is ridiculous. He should not be affected or reminded of these things by organics. They barely live a blink.* FakeProwl: He should say "I love you." Whirl: To be honest, I figured that would be the "simplest truth" the monster was talking about. FakeProwl: That's what most people regret not saying to someone who's going to die that they love. He hasn't said that. B l u r r: / oh shiit it hurts / FakeProwl: I figured that too. B l u r r: / tugs thermal over his helm / B l u r r: / he doesn't like stories about letting go / FakeProwl: Good. I'm not the only one that figured that. B l u r r: / ohhh no no no he's buried under here / FakeProwl: Maybe the hug was a symbolic "I love you"? Drift: *SQUEEZES* Whirl: *shrugs* The answer to cheesy lines like that is usually "love." Whirl: Movies love to do that. B l u r r: / muffled noise / Whirl: ...heh. B l u r r: / is squeezed / FakeProwl: It's not a bad thing to say to someone who is dying. Whirl: I guess not. FakeProwl: ... I mean, unless the person who is dying isn't somebody you love, of course. But provided that they are. B l u r r: / this mass of thermal is moving closer to Drift / Drift: *good. easier to squeeze.* B l u r r: / his processor is running too many miles a minute / Shockbox: ((Ahem. I left to shower right after the stream broke. What happened?)) FakeProwl: ((the kid confessed that on some level he actually wanted his mom to die so he could stop waiting for it to happen)) FakeProwl: ((even though he'd miss her.)) FakeProwl: ((then grandma came and took him to the hospital and he and grandma and the monster watched mom die.)) FakeProwl: ((they had a hug and he told mom he didn't want her to go.)) B l u r r: / noiSEs / Shockbox: ((Sounds legit.)) Whirl: Passable, not nothing remarkable. Whirl: *waves a claw at the screen* Shockbox: Did you intend to make a double negative? Whirl: ...nope. Whirl: I meant to say but. Whirl: *someone made a typing error oops* Shockbox: Ah. Whirl: I mean, to be perfectly honest, though, I don't care much about grammar, so I might as well have said it. B l u r r: / yanks thermal down off his helm/ Wait, does that mean the monster was a decent monster? Whirl: It definitely wasn't the villain. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He suspects whether or not it is remarkable to someone depends on what they have experienced.]] Drift: Yeah. He helped the kid work through his emotional issues. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[It seems like the kind of tale that would.]] Drift: The monster was... a hero. B l u r r: Oh for pit sake... B l u r r: I'm not a hero. Drift: I'm just talking about the monster, Blurr. He was definitely a hero. Don't you think so, Whirl? B l u r r: / rolls optic and scrubs faceplate / Whirl: I guess the movie would connect with you more if you could... get on it slevel, yeah. *shrugs* But I didn't think it was very well put together. Whirl: *to Drift* Oh, yes. Of course. Whirl: ((SLEVEL. WOW MY TYPING IS SO GOOD)) Shockbox: *Welp. That was all the time he had for interacting. He takes leave* B l u r r: Well... at least /he/ got to say goodbye in his own way. /grumbling to vacant air / Shockbox: ((G'night.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *A farewell nod to Shockwave* B l u r r: (( ni ni ! )) ItsyBitsySpyers: [[To each their own.]] FakeProwl: I'm not going to judge the movie structure because I don't know anything about art. B l u r r: / shifts and looks over at Drift / Well, either way. Heroic monsters aren't so bad. Less violent. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You do not need to know. You experienced it. You are allowed to have a feeling about your experience.]] FakeProwl: I'm not qualified to have an opinion about experiences I'm ill-equipped to understand. Drift: He was pretty violent. B l u r r: I guess so. Drift: Knocked down a guy's house for no real reason. B l u r r: He had a reason. Whirl: Oh, of course. *waves a claw* I mean, one person's word isn't the say-all, be-all about just about any art. Drift: Was kind of a vague on. B l u r r: In any case, it makes my insides hurt. Drift: ... No taking out parts of yourself. B l u r r: ... Well, we're a little late on that. Whirl: Though there are SOME arts that I will say are more objective than subjective--film isn't really one of em. Drift: Dammit, Blurr. B l u r r: I didn't do it right now. Drift: No taking out MORE parts. Show me your hands. B l u r r: I'm missing a lot of parts. B l u r r: / holds out claws. Empty / Drift: *takes them.* B l u r r: / wiggles digits / Drift: *wiggles fingers* B l u r r: See? Nothing. B l u r r: But, when I fought Thundertron, I was missing a lot of parts. Drift: Good. I'm keeping it that way. *hand is hold.* B l u r r: That was... a little after the whole thing with JT. B l u r r: / oh. Hold hands is nice / Whirl: *watches Blurr and Drift for a moment. Deep down, it still makes Whirl a little bit jealous, but for once, he's going to be happy for someone else; nobody makes Blurr perk up like Drift does* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Not sure how to respond to that. Surely Prowl has the right to say what the movie made him feel? Unless he doesn't know how he feels. Maybe that's the pipe talking.* Whirl: *the rare moment of almost-but-not-quite selflessness passes as quickly as a shooting star; if you blink, you'll miss it* B l u r r: In other news, I gained a fleet. An entire fleet. All with my flag on their airships. Drift: ... *squeezes hands tighter.* B l u r r: Though, I don't... remember the three weeks after I got them. /snort / Drift: *is like... 85% sure that BLURR wasn't the one who caused the fight with JT* B l u r r: / he waS / B l u r r: / flexes claws / Drift: Yeah? A fleet's cool. Drift: How many ships? B l u r r: er... I haven't counted. Drift: Gimme an estimate. B l u r r: ... /wrinkles nasal ridge / Fifty? B l u r r: / he's probably very wrong / Whirl: Damn, Teach, movin on up. B l u r r: / hums / Think so? B l u r r: / shifts/ You know... /nods at Whirl/ it's thanks to you I woke up at all, says Axis. So. If you ever want anything- well, I would have given it before. B l u r r: But, you know. Thanks. /flicks finials/ Dodge says so, too. Whirl: *tilts his head, then nods* If there's anything I know I'm good at, it's disturbing someone else's peaceful rest. Anytime, Teach. Drift: Wow, that's not bad. Most ships I've ever commanded at one time was ten. B l u r r: / snort/ ... / looks back at Drift / It's very hard. Drift: ... You helped him out, Whirl? B l u r r: Apparently Whirl manhandled Dart and NOS to get to me. /snort / Whirl: Because I couldn't trust those chumps to LEVEL with me. Whirl: They hid the whole "coma" thing for me for a whole night. Made an idiout out of me. They're lucky I didn't do something WORSE. B l u r r: It wasn't a coma. /vents / Drift: I guess that makes you... a hero. B l u r r: ..... Whirl: *LAUGHS* Whirl: *AND KEEPS ON LAUGHING* B l u r r: / snort / Whirl: *LAUGHS SO HARD HIS CRAPPY VOCALIZER STARTS GLITCHING OUT AND MAKING WEIRD DIAL-UP NOISES* Drift: Don't hurt yourself. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Startled back to the present. What is -- oh, Whirl. All right.* B l u r r: Yes, that wouldn't be ideal. Whirl: *wheezes* FakeProwl: ... That's painful too. FakeProwl: Are there more painful noises than usual or am I more sensitive than usual? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Both.]] Whirl: *with a modulated trill and a pop, his vocalizer resets* I get where you're going with that one, Drift, but I'm way too far in the red for that. Drift: Nobody's too far in the red for an act of heroism. B l u r r: I mean, look at me. B l u r r: You mechs keep calling ME a hero. Whirl: You're a lot younger than me. Whirl: I've had way more time to rack up terrible, terrible acts. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Has little else to say about the film in public, but may have something to say afterward. He is undecided.* Whirl: And, well, sorry Prowl, but that was involuntary. B l u r r: I don't know. I'm pretty fast on my pedes. I'm sure I've got a long record. ItsyBitsySpyers: *For now, he pings Prowl to alert him to incoming contact and traps his hand in a silent request for him to stay behind longer than the others - if possible. Health comes first.* Whirl: No helping you with that. You just gotta be sure never to make me laugh. ...which shouldn't be hard. B l u r r: In any case, that almost made me laugh. /snort / FakeProwl: My comment was involuntary too. B l u r r: / he doesn't laugh too often anymore at the moment / FakeProwl: Everything I've said for the past two movie nights has been completely involuntary. Whirl: *swivels his helm to stare at Prowl* FakeProwl: Except for any instances of "please," "thank you," "excuse me," "I'm sorry," or any other such etiquete phrases. Whirl: WHAT kinda DRUGS do they have you on? I thought you were acting kind of weird. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[The kinds of drugs you would expect for a mech with such an injury.]] FakeProwl: I told you, I'm not on anything. I turned off my pain receptors, I don't need anything. FakeProwl: I just have a pipe in my head. It is literally pushing my brain module. FakeProwl: Well. Not literally. It is literally pushing against my right optic, which is pushing my brain module. Whirl: I don't know what those kinds of drugs are. Do I look like a medic? *or someone who would be responsible enough to let a medic get their hands on him after an injury?* B l u r r: It's probably going to cause a few different changes. Depends on what it's pushing. Whirl: Oh. Whirl: ...wait. So, you're--like. This is brain damage talking? Right now? B l u r r: / taps his helm / If it's the frontal part or the left or right temporal areas. /vents/ Though , your processors are probably different. FakeProwl: Yes. Whirl: That. Explains a lot. FakeProwl: Did you think I was talking about my weaknesses and insecurities in a mixed crowd willingly? Whirl: I didn't know what your deal was, Prowl. FakeProwl: We founded a club together. You should at least notice when I'm acting blatantly and wildly out of character. Whirl: Maybe you're reinventing yourself. How'm I supposed to know? FakeProwl: ... Then again, nobody noticed when I had a Decepticon in my head, so why am I surprised. Whirl: I don't psychoanalyze everyone I meet. I'm not YOU. FakeProwl: The past few years have taught me that I'm far more mysterious then I've spent the past five million years of my life thinking I am. FakeProwl: I suppose that's a good thing, except for the fact that I learned this in the most depressing ways possible. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Had a--* Whirl: Well. ...hard lesson: learned, then, right? B l u r r: A lesson learned is a lesson learned all the same. FakeProwl: Yes. Hard lesson learned. Whirl: But if you don't wanna walk around compulsively just... telling the truth, all the time, maybe ask them to knock you out. Whirl: That's what I'd do, probably. FakeProwl: I can't do that. I have a pipe in my head. It might make the damage worse. B l u r r: What's so bad about telling the truth, anyway? B l u r r: I tell the truth all the time. FakeProwl: I have a lot of secrets. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[There are some things that should not be spoken aloud.]] B l u r r: So do I. Whirl: Maybe pump the brakes there, Prowl. B l u r r: I have a few skeletons in my closet . So what? Whirl: Before you go into that subject. *snorts* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Which is why he suggests moving on to other subjects.]] B l u r r: / hahaaa see what he did there? FakeProwl: Long Haul has started sitting next to my berth and putting a hand over my mouth before I say things he thinks I don't want to say. But he's not here. B l u r r: So pretend he is. FakeProwl: Blurr, we know about the skeletons in your closet. You threw a birthday party for one. They're not secrets. Whirl: ...would putting a hand on your mouth even stop a holoform from talking? B l u r r: Who said I only had one? FakeProwl: I said skeletons plural. B l u r r: And Dodge deserved that party. B l u r r: He's been a great support. Whirl: And, ey, you do you, Teach. If you wanna share your whole... deal with the world, have at it. B l u r r: /I/ don't tell people /anything/ anymore. Whirl: I, personally, just wanna save myself some embarrssment. No big secrets here. *WHAT A WHOPPER* B l u r r: Which is why I am in the situation I'm in. Whirl: *BUT ONE DELIVERED with an utterly straight face. ...well, "face."* FakeProwl: You have secrets. B l u r r: Everyone has secrets. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Everyone does.]] B l u r r: / finger guns at soundwave / B l u r r: / that's his form of a wink tbh / Whirl: I said "big" secrets. Whirl: I mean, yeah, I've got stuff I like to keep personal, of course I do. B l u r r: Look, everyone has one big secret they don't tell anyone. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Just one?]] B l u r r: / shrugs/ I have a lt. B l u r r: *lot. Whirl: Despite what you might have been told, *dryly* I am slightly more complicated that "a pair of guns attached to some legs." ItsyBitsySpyers: [[In his experience, most people have many more than that.]] Whirl: Nope. My sins have been laid bare. Mostly. FakeProwl: We're talking about everyone's one big secrets. This is dangerous because I'm going to start thinking about mine and then I'm going to say it. I'm leaving. Goodbye. FakeProwl: *he leaves. goodbye.* Whirl: ...oops. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh DAMN it. He should have known better. That's -- all right.* Whirl: That one wasn't my fault, for the record. B l u r r: /shrugs / B l u r r: The subject was brought up? FakeProwl: *AND FOR THE FIRST TIME. HE MANAGED TO SELF-CENSOR. BY REMOVING HIMSELF ENTIRELY.* Whirl: *YOU DID IT PROWL* B l u r r: / good job prowl! / B l u r r: / vents and shifts and stands to stretch. SAY HELLO TO SCARS AND NEW MODS / ItsyBitsySpyers: *He'll ping Prowl a 'well done'. And then an apology. Because he didn't quite think about that new subject.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Records those scars and mods, if they're visible.* Whirl: *watches Blurr for a bit and then pings Drift* @D: Hey. You know how Blurr is. Look after him, yeah? You're the only person he really trusts. B l u r r: / most of them are / Whirl: @D: And I'm not convinced that whatever took him down isn't over. B l u r r: / his mod is on his back so. here it is. Everyone check out the speed disc / Drift: @W «Sounds like you've been doing a pretty good job of looking after him lately.» B l u r r: / go speED RACER / Drift: @W «I mean—of course I'm going to look after him too, but... I'm trying to say thanks, basically.» Whirl: @D: As much as he'll let me, but there's a limit to that. Like it or not, you're responsible for this hot mess. Drift: Hey. *lightly smacks new mod.* So this is the big treasure, huh? B l u r r: / turns helm and spins around / Yep. B l u r r: Increases my speed ten fold. Whirl: *he doesn't look startled, or suspicious; he simply inclines his head in Drift's direction* @D: No sweat. Drift: Nice. How much damage does it do, though? Did Axis say it was safe? B l u r r: [[ everytime you @ Drift, I see a worried D: face and im like OH NO ]] Whirl: ((PFFT)) B l u r r: Axis already cleared me for using it. B l u r r: It wasn't the mod that broke my processor. Whirl: ((Drift's actual face when he finds out something bad happened to Blurr)) B l u r r: It didn't help, but... it wasn't that. FakeProwl: *prowl doesn't answer soundwave's ping because now he IS thinking about his secrets and talking about them to the constructicons.* FakeProwl: *so. yknow. better not call anyone else.* Drift: Even if it isn't, I wanna make sure it isn't gonna hurt anything else, you know? B l u r r: It won't. I think. B l u r r: All of this started with Tyran. I meddled... and I became friends with mechs I shouldn't have. B l u r r: And then HE came over and started spewing nonsense and /I/ was worried. Drift: More friends is always good. B l u r r: More friends, yes, sure. Maybe. B l u r r: But I don't think Roadbuster wants to be friends. Whirl: *streetches* All right,losers. I'm out. See you guys. B l u r r: In fact, I know he doesn't. B l u r r: ... /waves at Whirl / B l u r r: thanks... again. Whirl: *bobs his head at Blurr and Drift and Soundwave* Whirl: *...so, everyone left really* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nods.* Drift: *waves* Drift: *and then rECLAIMS BLURR'S HANDS* B l u r r: / omg / B l u r r: / flickers optic / ... Hi. Whirl: Anytime, Teach! *and he is gone* Drift: Hi. :) B l u r r: ... /tilts helm / You're worrying about nothing, you know. Everything is fine. Drift: That's never true with you, Blurr. B l u r r: ... /long vent / All right, I'm not fine. But... I mean, I'm not dead? Drift: That's good. Stay that way. B l u r r: ... I can try. B l u r r: I made you the book because I didn't know how to explain... all of that. Drift: ... I think hanging out with the other Autobots might be good for you. Even if it's not your own Optimus. B l u r r: /makes a face / It's hard to do that... Drift: Yeah. Thanks. It helped. B l u r r: But, Roadbuster and Topspin visit sometimes. And Optimus seems to talk to me on a level that's more... the same level. B l u r r: Some human likes me. Drift: That's good. They're visiting you, they're talking to you... B l u r r: When they can. I guess they're busy with their whole... problem. Drift: ... You could go help them. B l u r r: .. no. B l u r r: I can't... that's how I got into this whole mess. Drift: I don't think it's a mess. You've met people who like hanging out with you.

Missed some.

B l u r r: ….. Whirl: *LAUGHS* Whirl: *AND KEEPS ON LAUGHING* B l u r r: / snort / Whirl: *LAUGHS SO HARD HIS CRAPPY VOCALIZER STARTS GLITCHING OUT AND MAKING WEIRD DIAL-UP NOISES* Drift: Don’t hurt yourself. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Startled back to the present. What is – oh, Whirl. All right.* B l u r r: Yes, that wouldn’t be ideal. Whirl: *wheezes* FakeProwl: … That’s painful too. FakeProwl: Are there more painful noises than usual or am I more sensitive than usual? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Both.]] Whirl: *with a modulated trill and a pop, his vocalizer resets* I get where you’re going with that one, Drift, but I’m way too far in the red for that. Drift: Nobody’s too far in the red for an act of heroism. B l u r r: I mean, look at me. B l u r r: You mechs keep calling ME a hero. Whirl: You’re a lot younger than me. Whirl: I’ve had way more time to rack up terrible, terrible acts. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Has little else to say about the film in public, but may have something to say afterward. He is undecided.* Whirl: And, well, sorry Prowl, but that was involuntary. B l u r r: I don’t know. I’m pretty fast on my pedes. I’m sure I’ve got a long record. ItsyBitsySpyers: *For now, he pings Prowl to alert him to incoming contact and traps his hand in a silent request for him to stay behind longer than the others - if possible. Health comes first.* Whirl: No helping you with that. You just gotta be sure never to make me laugh. …which shouldn’t be hard. B l u r r: In any case, that almost made me laugh. /snort / FakeProwl: My comment was involuntary too. B l u r r: / he doesn’t laugh too often anymore at the moment / FakeProwl: Everything I’ve said for the past two movie nights has been completely involuntary. Whirl: *swivels his helm to stare at Prowl* FakeProwl: Except for any instances of “please,” “thank you,” “excuse me,” “I’m sorry,” or any other such etiquete phrases. Whirl: WHAT kinda DRUGS do they have you on? I thought you were acting kind of weird. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[The kinds of drugs you would expect for a mech with such an injury.]] FakeProwl: I told you, I’m not on anything. I turned off my pain receptors, I don’t need anything. FakeProwl: I just have a pipe in my head. It is literally pushing my brain module. FakeProwl: Well. Not literally. It is literally pushing against my right optic, which is pushing my brain module. Whirl: I don’t know what those kinds of drugs are. Do I look like a medic? *or someone who would be responsible enough to let a medic get their hands on him after an injury?* B l u r r: It’s probably going to cause a few different changes. Depends on what it’s pushing. Whirl: Oh. Whirl: …wait. So, you’re–like. This is brain damage talking? Right now? B l u r r: / taps his helm / If it’s the frontal part or the left or right temporal areas. /vents/ Though , your processors are probably different. FakeProwl: Yes. Whirl: That. Explains a lot. FakeProwl: Did you think I was talking about my weaknesses and insecurities in a mixed crowd willingly? Whirl: I didn’t know what your deal was, Prowl. FakeProwl: We founded a club together. You should at least notice when I’m acting blatantly and wildly out of character. Whirl: Maybe you’re reinventing yourself. How’m I supposed to know? FakeProwl: … Then again, nobody noticed when I had a Decepticon in my head, so why am I surprised. Whirl: I don’t psychoanalyze everyone I meet. I’m not YOU. FakeProwl: The past few years have taught me that I’m far more mysterious then I’ve spent the past five million years of my life thinking I am. FakeProwl: I suppose that’s a good thing, except for the fact that I learned this in the most depressing ways possible. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Had a–* Whirl: Well. …hard lesson: learned, then, right? B l u r r: A lesson learned is a lesson learned all the same. FakeProwl: Yes. Hard lesson learned. Whirl: But if you don’t wanna walk around compulsively just… telling the truth, all the time, maybe ask them to knock you out. Whirl: That’s what I’d do, probably. FakeProwl: I can’t do that. I have a pipe in my head. It might make the damage worse. B l u r r: What’s so bad about telling the truth, anyway? B l u r r: I tell the truth all the time. FakeProwl: I have a lot of secrets. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[There are some things that should not be spoken aloud.]] B l u r r: So do I. Whirl: Maybe pump the brakes there, Prowl. B l u r r: I have a few skeletons in my closet . So what? Whirl: Before you go into that subject. *snorts* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Which is why he suggests moving on to other subjects.]] B l u r r: / hahaaa see what he did there? FakeProwl: Long Haul has started sitting next to my berth and putting a hand over my mouth before I say things he thinks I don’t want to say. But he’s not here. B l u r r: So pretend he is. FakeProwl: Blurr, we know about the skeletons in your closet. You threw a birthday party for one. They’re not secrets. Whirl: …would putting a hand on your mouth even stop a holoform from talking? B l u r r: Who said I only had one? FakeProwl: I said skeletons plural. B l u r r: And Dodge deserved that party. B l u r r: He’s been a great support. Whirl: And, ey, you do you, Teach. If you wanna share your whole… deal with the world, have at it. B l u r r: /I/ don’t tell people /anything/ anymore. Whirl: I, personally, just wanna save myself some embarrssment. No big secrets here. *WHAT A WHOPPER* B l u r r: Which is why I am in the situation I’m in. Whirl: *BUT ONE DELIVERED with an utterly straight face. …well, “face.”* FakeProwl: You have secrets. B l u r r: Everyone has secrets. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Everyone does.]] B l u r r: / finger guns at soundwave / B l u r r: / that’s his form of a wink tbh / Whirl: I said “big” secrets. Whirl: I mean, yeah, I’ve got stuff I like to keep personal, of course I do. B l u r r: Look, everyone has one big secret they don’t tell anyone. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Just one?]] B l u r r: / shrugs/ I have a lt. B l u r r: *lot. Whirl: Despite what you might have been told, *dryly* I am slightly more complicated that “a pair of guns attached to some legs.” ItsyBitsySpyers: [[In his experience, most people have many more than that.]] Whirl: Nope. My sins have been laid bare. Mostly. FakeProwl: We’re talking about everyone’s one big secrets. This is dangerous because I’m going to start thinking about mine and then I’m going to say it. I’m leaving. Goodbye. FakeProwl: *he leaves. goodbye.* Whirl: …oops. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh DAMN it. He should have known better. That’s – all right.* Whirl: That one wasn’t my fault, for the record. B l u r r: /shrugs / B l u r r: The subject was brought up? FakeProwl: *AND FOR THE FIRST TIME. HE MANAGED TO SELF-CENSOR. BY REMOVING HIMSELF ENTIRELY.* Whirl: *YOU DID IT PROWL* B l u r r: / good job prowl! / B l u r r: / vents and shifts and stands to stretch. SAY HELLO TO SCARS AND NEW MODS / ItsyBitsySpyers: *He’ll ping Prowl a ‘well done’. And then an apology. Because he didn’t quite think about that new subject.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Records those scars and mods, if they’re visible.* Whirl: *watches Blurr for a bit and then pings Drift* @D: Hey. You know how Blurr is. Look after him, yeah? You’re the only person he really trusts. B l u r r: / most of them are / Whirl: @D: And I’m not convinced that whatever took him down isn’t over. B l u r r: / his mod is on his back so. here it is. Everyone check out the speed disc / Drift: @W «Sounds like you’ve been doing a pretty good job of looking after him lately.» B l u r r: / go speED RACER / Drift: @W «I mean—of course I’m going to look after him too, but… I’m trying to say thanks, basically.» Whirl: @D: As much as he’ll let me, but there’s a limit to that. Like it or not, you’re responsible for this hot mess. Drift: Hey. *lightly smacks new mod.* So this is the big treasure, huh? B l u r r: / turns helm and spins around / Yep. B l u r r: Increases my speed ten fold. Whirl: *he doesn’t look startled, or suspicious; he simply inclines his head in Drift’s direction* @D: No sweat. Drift: Nice. How much damage does it do, though? Did Axis say it was safe? B l u r r: [[ everytime you @ Drift, I see a worried D: face and im like OH NO ]] Whirl: ((PFFT)) B l u r r: Axis already cleared me for using it. B l u r r: It wasn’t the mod that broke my processor. Whirl: ((Drift’s actual face when he finds out something bad happened to Blurr)) B l u r r: It didn’t help, but… it wasn’t that. FakeProwl: *prowl doesn’t answer soundwave’s ping because now he IS thinking about his secrets and talking about them to the constructicons.* FakeProwl: *so. yknow. better not call anyone else.* Drift: Even if it isn’t, I wanna make sure it isn’t gonna hurt anything else, you know? B l u r r: It won’t. I think. B l u r r: All of this started with Tyran. I meddled… and I became friends with mechs I shouldn’t have. B l u r r: And then HE came over and started spewing nonsense and /I/ was worried. Drift: More friends is always good. B l u r r: More friends, yes, sure. Maybe. B l u r r: But I don’t think Roadbuster wants to be friends. Whirl: *streetches* All right,losers. I’m out. See you guys. B l u r r: In fact, I know he doesn’t. B l u r r: … /waves at Whirl / B l u r r: thanks… again. Whirl: *bobs his head at Blurr and Drift and Soundwave* Whirl: *…so, everyone left really* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nods.* Drift: *waves* Drift: *and then rECLAIMS BLURR’S HANDS* B l u r r: / omg / B l u r r: / flickers optic / … Hi. Whirl: Anytime, Teach! *and he is gone* Drift: Hi. :) B l u r r: … /tilts helm / You’re worrying about nothing, you know. Everything is fine. Drift: That’s never true with you, Blurr. B l u r r: … /long vent / All right, I’m not fine. But… I mean, I’m not dead? Drift: That’s good. Stay that way. B l u r r: … I can try. B l u r r: I made you the book because I didn’t know how to explain… all of that. Drift: … I think hanging out with the other Autobots might be good for you. Even if it’s not your own Optimus. B l u r r: /makes a face / It’s hard to do that… Drift: Yeah. Thanks. It helped. B l u r r: But, Roadbuster and Topspin visit sometimes. And Optimus seems to talk to me on a level that’s more… the same level. B l u r r: Some human likes me. Drift: That’s good. They’re visiting you, they’re talking to you… B l u r r: When they can. I guess they’re busy with their whole… problem. Drift: … You could go help them. B l u r r: .. no. B l u r r: I can’t… that’s how I got into this whole mess. Drift: I don’t think it’s a mess. You’ve met people who like hanging out with you. B l u r r: That’s not the mess, Drift. Drift: What’s the mess, then? B l u r r: / makes a face/ Roadbuster… he and I weren’t supposed to… Drift: … I don’t think that’s a mess, either. B l u r r: What if I’m just attaching onto him because I miss mine? B l u r r: Without knowing it. Drift: So what if you are? Drift: He’s got the same traits you liked in the first one. B l u r r: I don’t replace people. Everyone is unique. B l u r r: What if I’m with him for the wrong reasons ? Drift: What’s wrong with being with him because you’re attracted to him for the same reasons you were attracted to his alternate? B l u r r: … Because I don’t want to forget my Wrecker. B l u r r: And then there’s JT… B l u r r: / makes a slight noise. Something between a gag and a whine. It’s odd. / Drift: You’ll never forget your Wrecker. I promise. Drift: *yeah. JT. grimaces.* Drift: … I’m sorry. B l u r r: …What for? /flicks finials/ B l u r r: Don’t. It was my fault. Drift: *vague shrug. can’t say for messing that up because Blurr hasn’t admitted it was Drift’s fault.* B l u r r: [[ IT WAS BOTH OUR FAULTS ]] Drift: Just—sorry. That’s all. B l u r r: … Well. There in lies the problem. B l u r r: He came back. Drift: … He did? Drift: Wait. So, does he wanna—? B l u r r: / vents/ When I left… he chased me off his ship. B l u r r: Said he never wanted to see me again. B l u r r: So, imagine my surprise when he’s knocking on my door… B l u r r: A month later. Drift: … That’s a good sign. B l u r r: A month after being stuck with Velocity. B l u r r: Does a lot of damage, honestly. B l u r r: But, from the beginning, I didn’t say anything to anybody. After that whole fight with JT, I figured it was over. B l u r r: / shrugs shoulders/ What can I say? I lost it.

Help Wanted

Part 1 of a series of short fics for @reylofanfictionanthology‘s Reydar month! This hits first time, arranged marriage, glasses, real talk with real folks, where’s my muffin, and employee of the month on the bingo board. Enjoy!

Rating: G Words: 1420 Summary: Rey is supposed to be helping Kylo (or 'Matt') integrate into a normal life - and job. He does not make that easy.

-

“That’s the problem with society these days,” the older man across the counter continues, picking up right from where he left off before Rey interrupted him to get his order. She nods with a forced smile as she writes down his exceedingly precise order on the cup, then hands it to Kylo, who takes it with an eye roll and a glare. No different than usual.

She’s not sure if the customer is talking to her, the person behind him in line, or the room at large, but he forges on. “Kids just marry whoever they want; they have no respect for the institution.”

“That’ll be 7.89,” she informs him pleasantly.

(cont under cut)

He counts out a precise amount of bills and change, and hands it to her, still talking. She looks down at the counter to see 13.15. She sighs and opens the register. “Back in my day, we did things the right way. We didn’t just run about fooling around like wild animals. You dated a girl, and you got her parent’s permission. And she wouldn’t do a thing without it!” Rey hands the man his change and ducks into the case for his bagel. “Parents these days need to put their foot down, reign these young folk in, put them on the right path with the right person. Start setting up arranged marriages, that would sort this all out.” Rey gives him his bagel and he looks at her expectantly.

“Yes sir,” she replies.

He scowls at her, like he suspects she isn’t being entirely sincere, but evidently can’t find enough reason to fault her, as he moves on down the counter. Kylo is still working on his drink (and knowing Kylo, probably getting the measurements just slightly off out of spite), so he settles against the railing, likely preparing another rant on the laziness of today’s youth.

Fortunately, most of the morning customers are too coffee and sleep deprived to be as talkative, so the early rush passes easily enough. The line shifts to mostly college students in the late morning, who range from shuffling zombies to those who haven’t come down off their last caffeine high. Rey stays at the register while Kylo and Teedo pour the drinks. They’ve both been encouraged to minimize their interactions with customers, Kylo especially. Rey suspects that the only reason the manager keeps them around is because he’s run through the rest of the students on campus willing to work for him. Kylo, of course, has less choice than most people.

Not that he’s even going by Kylo here. (Or Ben, or whatever the hell his name actually is.) No, instead he decided to adopt the persona of ‘Matt’, who is apparently blonde and needs glasses. With his choice of flannel and the dark glare that seems to be an inherent part of his personality, the overall effect is some bizarre mix of modern hipster and eighties nerd. She’s not sure if he keeps up the disguise for the benefit of anyone who might possibly recognize him from the coverage of his trial or, even more unlikely, from his well publicized childhood as the son of senator and the Organa and Skywalker families. Whatever his motivation, she’s fairly sure that the ridiculous wig draws much more attention that another moody emo barista.

The regular brunch crowd begins to intermix with the college students, most with hair to match Kylo’s, all chattering loudly. Rey groans inwardly but plasters on her brightest smile, just short of being disturbingly happy. The first group passes through the line and settle at their typical corner table with their complicated drinks. The next group is laughing and chatting too noisily to pay much attention to Rey, which she appreciates. She idly wipes off the display in the front while waiting for the door to chime again.

Instead, a blonde woman with a severe haircut and dark highlight marches angrily up to the counter, holding her coffee.

“Is there something wrong, ma’am?” Rey asks politely, hoping to stave off at least some of the impending tirade against their service. She hears Kylo turn and take interest from behind her, and she mentally orders him to stay put.

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me,” the woman snaps, and Rey sighs internally. It’s going to be one of those then. ��You know perfectly well what’s wrong. You’re all trying to cheat me,” she announces to the store at large, flinging her arms wide performatively and pointing an accusing finger at Rey. “I ordered a muffin and paid for it. Where the hell is my muffin?”

Rey is absolutely sure that the woman neither order nor paid for a muffin, and that the receipt she’s waving around like a battle flag would prove that, but she knows exactly how any conversation to that effect would go. She reaches into the pastry case with a polite and not at all irritated smile. “Here you go, sorry for the inconvenience,” she says, wrapping the muffin in paper. She’s about to hand it across the counter to the insufferably smug woman, when a hand appears from behind, blocking her.

“Actually, on second thought, why don’t we see that receipt first,” Kylo says with a cold smile, as if they’re talking about something much more valuable than a slightly stale muffin. The woman’s jaw drops in outrage. Kylo could have smacked her across the face for the same effect, and while Rey wouldn’t have minded seeing that, it’s not in the best interest of them keeping their jobs. Even worse, Kylo continues: “After all, we can’t just give out free food to whoever yells loudly enough.”

“How dare you? I am a loyal customer, and I will not be treated like this!” she screeches.

“Miss, please,” Rey attempts placatingly. “Here-” Kylo reaches around her and snatches the muffin away before the woman can grab it.

“We all know you didn’t actually pay for this,” he snaps. “So instead of us paying for your meal, why don’t you kindly go fuck-”

He cuts off with a grunt of pain as Rey wrenches his arm behind his back. “I apologize for my coworker,” she grinds out, smiling almost manically. He struggles in her grip. “Kylo-” she says warningly.

“Kylo?” the woman repeats, her eyes wide. “As in Kylo Ren? You’re -” Kylo grins at her, and Rey rolls her eyes. The woman gapes at them, then screeches, “Manager! I want to see the manager!”

From the back of the store, Rey hears a slammed door followed by heavy footsteps as Plutt emerges from his office. She grits her teeth and gives Kylo’s arm an additional vengeful twist. Today is not her day. Kylo hisses and kicks her ankle, just as Plutt burst through the swinging door.

“What the hell is going on here?”

-

“I can’t believe this!” Rey says for nearly the hundredth time, striding furiously down the sidewalk. Kylo keeps pace with her easily, glaring with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Fired! How could I get fired? I’ve never been fired in my life. I went from employee of the month to this, and it’s all your fault,” she says, also not for the first time, jabbing a finger in Kylo’s chest.

“You’re the one who assaulted me,” he says grumpily. “My arm still hurts.” She turns and punches it for good measure. “Ow!”

“You’re the one who couldn’t keep from pissing off a customer. What the fuck Kylo? It’s not like we don’t have enough stupid muffins to give out to every bitchy soccer mom who wants one for shouting.”

“It’s demeaning,” Kylo growls. “They’re taking advantage of us.”

She rolls her eyes. “They’re taking advantage of Plutt,” she corrects. “We still get paid a buck above minimum wage as long as the customers keep coming. Or we did, until you had to go picking fights with them!”

“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he grumbles. “My mother’s still paying you to babysit me either way.”

“That’s not the point,” Rey snaps. 

“What, are you going to miss out on all the real talk with the real folk?” he sneers in return.

She ignores that. “I’m supposed to be helping get a job like a normal, functioning human being. Not watching you get kicked out of some crappy coffee shop! Who even does that?”

“We do, apparently.”

She punches him again. He rubs his arm and glares at her. “You better not mess up the next one,” she threatens. He just rolls his eyes.

Where To Get Takeout And Delivery For Your Birthday In NYC (1) added to Google Docs

Where To Get Takeout And Delivery For Your Birthday In NYC (1)

Here’s something you’re already painfully aware of: your birthday isn’t panning out the way you’d hoped it would this year. There will be no big group dinner, no Sound-Of-Music-meets-Allison-Roman picnic scenario in Prospect Park, and certainly no possibility of ending up in an elevated dance cage at House Of Yes at 3am (maybe for the best).

But just because you can’t celebrate using traditional birthday methods, that doesn’t mean your special day has to suck. Your guest list now includes Andrew Cuomo (televised), your coat rack who has been looking especially cute lately, and Andrew Cuomo’s probable nipple piercings (televised). You won’t have to worry about making a reservation or splitting a giant check with twelve people. Instead, order from this list of restaurants, bars, and bakeries who can deliver something great to your apartment. From carafes of dill-infused vodka to discounted sushi omakase sets, and a chocolate “dirt cup” with gummy dinosaurs from a fancy tasting menu restaurant, here are 22 ideas for how to have a birthday party at home, even if you’re the only attendee.

All restaurants featured on The Infatuation are selected by our editorial team. The NYC Birthday Takeout And Delivery Guide is presented by Uber Eats. In the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, supporting our local restaurant community has never been more important. Uber Eats is offering $0 Delivery Fee for delivery orders from independent restaurants directly in the app. Order now to support. See app for details.

the spots Joyface $ $ $ $ East Village $$$$ 104 Avenue C

Due to birthday and non-birthday reasons, you’re itching to have a dance party. And, unfortunately, your nice-but-ultimately-awkward Zoom celebration isn’t going to scratch that itch. Instead, order a Joyface “disco kit” that comes with to-go cocktails, snacks, Joyface-branded rolling papers, and a battery-operated disco ball, and turn your apartment into the dance club your heart knows it wants.

 Noah Devereaux Minetta Tavern $ $ $ $ American ,  Burgers ,  Steaks  in  Greenwich Village $$$$ 113 MacDougal St. 8.7 /10

Under typical birthday circumstances, Minetta Tavern is the kind of place anyone would be lucky to celebrate. To recreate this occasion, we suggest lighting a candle, imagining your couch is a booth in Greenwich Village, and encouraging your roommate or spouse to put on an apron and serve you a black label burger using a French accent. This is not a French restaurant, but French accents sound nice right now.

 Pies 'n' Thighs Pies 'n' Thighs $ $ $ $ American ,  Southern  in  Brooklyn ,  Williamsburg $$$$ 166 S 4th St. 8.0 /10

Between the heaps of biscuits, fried chicken, and pies, this Williamsburg spot serves food that will trick your brain into thinking it’s your birthday any time you eat it. And since you’re already home, you can take advantage of the fact that you won’t have to stand up after you eat a fried chicken sandwich and a slice of cherry pie.

 Emily Schindler Adda $ $ $ $ Indian  in  Long Island City ,  Queens $$$$ 31-31 Thomson Ave 8.4 /10

If you just feel like watching a movie surrounded by several containers of curry, know that this Long Island City Indian restaurant has delivery and takeout available online or by calling 718-433-3888. Get the creamy butter chicken or spicy goat that falls off the bone, and some cheese-stuffed naan and call it a birthday cake.

 Order delivery  Blue Hill at Stone Barns $ $ $ $ American  in  Westchester $$$$ 630 Bedford Rd. 9.7 /10

While you wait for that weighted blanket and those cow-print clogs to arrive in the mail, consider gifting yourself a box from Blue Hill at Stone Barns or Blue Hill in the city. They have different kits full of wine, bread and pastries, or meat available for pickup. Schedule your birthday box on their website here, and check out their donation program that sends a box to hospital workers while you’re at it.

Sugar Sweet Sunshine $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery ,  Dessert  in  Lower East Side $$$$ 126 Rivington St Not

Rated

Yet

There is no way you’re baking a f*cking cake for your own birthday, so it’s possible you’re reading this in search of dessert ideas. Both locations of Sugar Sweet Sunshine on the LES are delivering cakes and other pastries all over lower Manhattan. You can place your order for cupcakes, puddings (their banana one is excellent), and whole cakes online.

 Order delivery  Orwasher's Bakery $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery  in  Upper West Side $$$$ 308 E 78th St Not

Rated

Yet

If you’re uptown and looking for something sweet that doesn’t require pre-heating your oven, Orwashers is open on the UES and UWS. They serve cakes, Jewish pastries, some great almond croissants, and black and white cookies that will make you briefly think you’ve reached cookie enlightenment.

 Teddy Wolff Claro $ $ $ $ Mexican  in  Brooklyn ,  Gowanus $$$$ 284 3rd Ave 8.3 /10

We can’t explain the metaphysics, but there is real birthday magic that takes place when you sit in Claro’s Gowanus backyard on a warm evening eating a memela with pork rib. While you can’t currently enjoy their glorious backyard, you can still order their Oaxacan food to your apartment. Check out their menu online, and try to find a fire escape, roof, or stoop as a backyard substitute.

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INFATUATION NEWSLETTER Get our newest guides & reviews first,

plus more restaurant intel you won't find anywhere else. TRVL ATL ATX BOS CHI LDN LA MIA NYC PHL SF SEA DC Subscribe Smart move. Excellent information will arrive in your inbox soon. Do you have friends and family who also eat food? Enter their emails below and we’ll make sure they’re eating well. (Don’t worry, we won’t subscribe them to our newsletter - they can do that themselves.) Help Your Friends No Thanks Well done. You’re a good person. All good. We still like you. Want to quickly find restaurants on the go? Download The Infatuation app.    Noah Devereaux Sushi Ishikawa $ $ $ $ Japanese ,  Sushi  in  Upper East Side $$$$ 419 E 74th St 7.8 /10

You’ve been fantasizing about ordering a full sushi omakase experience for your birthday. Normally, Sushi Ishikawa’s omakase menus cost somewhere between $125 or $155, but right now they’re offering a nine-piece omakase meal for $59 (including soup and salad) and maki sets for $39. Consider it a birthday present from the lovely folks at Sushi Ishikawa and their medium-fatty tuna co-conspirators.

 Contra Contra $ $ $ $ American  in  Lower East Side $$$$ 138 Orchard St. 8.6 /10

Remember those special chocolate “dirt cups” with gummy worms you used to gorge on during playdates? Well Contra and Wildair have them available for takeout and delivery (along with other things like birria and jerk chicken). Instead of gummy worms they’re using little colorful dinosaurs and cherries. If that doesn’t count as celebratory, then we’re not sure what does.

 Noah Devereaux Al Di La $ $ $ $ Italian  in  Brooklyn ,  Park Slope $$$$ 248 5th Ave. 9.0 /10

You don’t like to admit this, but staying home and eating pasta in sweatpants is ideally how you’d spend any birthday. Now is your socially-acceptable moment. Order takeout from Al Di La in Park Slope - their mascarpone-filled ravioli and tagliatelle al ragu make all of our bad days better.

Atoboy $ $ $ $ Korean  in  Flatiron $$$$ 43 E 28th St 7.6 /10

Dim the lights, put on some Marvin Gaye, and eat Atoboy’s food with the confidence and leisure of someone who doesn’t have to do the dishes. This Korean spot in Flatiron has a special delivery and takeout menu with entrees like galbi, gochujang chicken, and sunchokes wiith oyster mushrooms. Almost everything comes with banchan, kimchi, and white rice, and they also have a wine list with bottles exclusively in the $30 range. You can check their Instagram for more details and place your order online.

 Peter Pan Donuts Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery ,  Dessert  in  Greenpoint $$$$ 727 Manhattan Ave Not

Rated

Yet

If you’re in Greenpoint or Williamsburg and you want something sweet and celebratory (or, if you’re reading this on behalf of someone else and want to make their day), Peter Pan is open or pick-up orders, starting at 4:30am.

 Teddy Wolff The Fly $ $ $ $ American  in  Bedford-Stuyvesant $$$$ 549 Classon Ave 8.4 /10

If we could move into The Fly and spend the foreseeable future consuming roast chicken, fries, and natural wine, we would. Unfortunately, that’s not an option at this time. But you should try it for a night, and turn your apartment into a makeshift version of The Fly. They have new wine and food options every week listed on their website, and everything is available for pick-up on Wednesdays between 11am and 4pm.

 Noah Devereaux Melba's $ $ $ $ Southern  in  Harlem $$$$ 300 W 114th St 8.3 /10

By this point, you’re starting to do some weird stuff at home. But we want you to know there is nothing odd about sticking a candle into a bowl of Melba’s creamy mac and cheese and another one in a plate of their wine-braised short ribs. For the first time ever, this Harlem spot has made their menu of Soul food available for takeout and delivery. You’ve never been one for birthday cakes, anyway.

 Order delivery   Thai Diner Thai Diner $ $ $ $ Diner ,  Thai  in  Nolita $$$$ 186 Mott St Not

Rated

Yet

Thai Diner opened just a few months ago, and it’s possible you never got to try it because there were lines out the door every weekend. Or, maybe you did try it, decided you couldn’t stop thinking about it (us too), and have been waiting for the chance to reunite with their roti breakfast sandwich and their phat see ew. A selection of their menu is online for pick-up and delivery, and it’ll taste better than whatever birthday breakfast in bed you had planned.

 Noah Devereaux Cote $ $ $ $ Korean  in  Flatiron $$$$ 16 W 22nd St 8.2 /10

Cote can fulfill any and all birthday meat ambitions. This Korean BBQ spot is selling takeout and delivery care packages with raw steaks, as well as a takeout menu of already-cooked food. If you want something affordable, there’s a $22 butcher’s bowl, as well as a bunch of other Korean barbecue specials available for takeout and delivery. Also - 3% of all their sales go to City Harvest.

Pink Nori $ $ $ $ Sushi  in  Astoria $$$$ 36-06 30th Ave Not

Rated

Yet

Ah, birthday sushi. A great pastime. If you’re in the Astoria area and you don’t want to splurge, Pink Nori has a bunch of sub-$25 combos that you can order pick-up or delivery online.

 Order delivery   Noah Devereaux Mari Vanna $ $ $ $ Russian  in  Flatiron $$$$ 41 E 20th St 8.0 /10

This Russian restaurant in Gramercy has flights of infused vodka to go, along with things like veal pelmeni and blinis with caviar. Can you make dill-infused vodka at home? Sure. But it’s your birthday, and you should have a drunken Russian feast prepared especially for you.

Avant Garden $ $ $ $ Vegetarian  in  East Village $$$$ 130 E 7th St 8.4 /10

As much as you’ve relied on chickpeas in recent memory, you can’t eat another can for your birthday dinner. For something completely vegan, get takeout from Avant Garden (and check out the rest of our guide to vegan and vegetarian delivery here). Everything at this East Village is 20% off if you call the restaurant directly to place your order.

Tokyo Record Bar $ $ $ $ Japanese  in  Greenwich Village $$$$ 127 Macdougal St 8.3 /10

Tokyo Record Bar and Niche Niche have a thing called Wine Roulette available right now where you can tell them your ideal price range and style, and they’ll choose the bottles for you. They also have snacks available and 25% off their entire wine list, and they’ll deliver all over the city. Check their Instagram here for details.

 Kate Previte Llama San $ $ $ $ Japanese ,  Peruvian  in  West Village $$$$ 359 Avenue of the Americas 8.5 /10

Maybe your one birthday wish is to eat something you can’t possibly cook in your apartment, like the lobster and beef heart over rice from Llama San. You can call this Peruvian-Japanese place at 646-590-4422 or email [email protected] - and know that they have half-priced bottles of wine available too.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/new-york/guides/birthday-takeout-delivery-nyc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created April 11, 2020 at 03:13AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF