Ada - he/they - 28/07/07

His pen stills instantly at your question, the tip leaving the paper to not blot the ink as he drags his tired eyes from the monitors onto your frame.

His irritation from working so long cracks under your sweet appearance, it’s obvious you’ve been sleeping from the way your pyjamas slump drastically over your form, slipping down your shoulder when you slink towards him and slip your hand onto the back his chair.

“I won’t be long.”

“You said that 3 hours ago, amore.”

Your lips press tenderly against his jaw once as you lean onto him, watching the monitor on his desk when he settles back into your warmth with a light amused exhale. He knows you’re right. Even if he doesn't want you to be.

“Come to bed?”

It’s tempting. Agonisingly so.

He wants to shut off the power and follow you without a second thought, the desire to drag you to his chest and let you fall asleep in his arms is overwhelming.

A longing he chokes back with a slow exhale and a small rub of your knuckles where your hand rests on his other shoulder.

“As much as I want to, beloved. This needs to be done.”

“Can’t it wait til tomorrow?”

He debates it for a second, humming dismissively when he rests his head against yours with a small apology whispered towards you before starting to write again.

“Soon. There’s not much left.”

“Can I stay with you then?”

“It’s… 2:24am. You should be sleeping.”

There’s a small pause after his nudge to get you to leave, your muffled yawn making his heart beat faster in his chest with a lazy smile slipping onto his face at your exhaustion.

“You should be sleeping too…”

His hum bleeds from amused to contentment when your fingers curl into his hair, brushing through the long cascade softly before scratching against his scalp and dragging him into relaxation before he can scold you.

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“Stop working.”

The dramatic thud of the book against his desk makes you jump slightly, his fingers hesitating in the air when he reaches for the keyboard instead when you kiss his jaw again.

The second he starts typing he regrets ever putting the notebook down, his eyes catching yours with a dangerous warning lingering in his glare when you move his hands off the keys so you can move to settle onto his lap with a pleased hum when he tenses.

“I cannot work like this.”

“But I missed you…”

The ache in his heart is instant from how tired you sound, your head falling into the crook of his neck with a content sigh when his palm moves to rest against you.

Every small movement of his thumb against your waist drags you deeper into your exhaustion with a muffled question pressed into his throat.

“Will you come to bed yet?”

“Y/N.”

“Please?”

It’s pathetic.

The small plead slipping before you can care to stop it, your mind blurring through tiredness with every grounding breath you take pressed up against his comforting warmth. His cologne fills your senses deeply when you nuzzle your face further into his skin, lazily pressing kisses against his collarbone with a muffled laugh when he threatens you weakly.

It's almost endearing how much he tries to hold onto his subjugating aura, even when he's fighting falling to sleep where he sits.

“You’re annoying me, beloved. Move.”

“You’re just… Embarrassed, Dia.”

He almost pushes you off at your amused tease, his fingers tightening just a little against your waist before moving away from your warm skin and starting to type, his eyes focussed completely on the monitor.

Well, he pretends to be focused.

But the way he sinks further into the plush fabric of the seat with every lingering kiss you leave makes his distraction obvious.

“I will remove you.”

“Do it. I’ll just come back.”

The threats sound cold, irritation coiling around every word like he’s disgusted you ever thought about touching him. But his heart gives him away. 

It always has.

You can feel the rapid thud of every heartbeat in his chest as you fluster him further, leaving his face a deep pink and him struggling now to smile through his feigned anger.

His skin is deeply flushed under your lips as you trail your way up to his jaw with a hum when he exhales shakily, your teeth grazing over his throat lightly in a teasing nip when your fingers slip back into his hair.

“I should just let Doppio deal with you when you’re like this.”

“Mm, won’t make me stop. But I’ll miss you…”

His fingers stop against the smooth plastic of the keyboard with a sharp annoyed sigh, it’s ladened with a fake irritation that would make any other person halt in what they’re doing. But not you.

No, if anything it spurs you on further into your worship, your nails dragging against his scalp with a small tug of his hair, forcing his head back further to allow you to get better access to his skin.

He can’t stop the immediate groan at your light kisses against his jaw before shifting away to press your lips to his with a pleased hum when he melts fully against you. It’s fast and adoring all while his exhaustion catches up to him violently in his blissful comfort as you pull away.

Only for him to immediately chase your warmth and press his lips back to yours with a sweet fleeting peck.

“You're infuriating.”

“You love me.”

It’s barely more than a whisper with a giddy grin at the desperate little kisses he leaves against your lips through your gentle conversation.

“For the moment, get up.”

“Depends… Will you come to bed with me now?”

“Do I truly have an option?”

The mischievous glint in your eyes answers the question for you, your lips catching his again in a slow desperate kiss, leaving you both dazed and slightly breathless when you pull away with a saccharine smile down at him.

“You’re blushing.”

“Do you think goading me is a smart idea, my heart?”

“It’s a really fun idea…"

When you don’t move he sighs in pure exasperation, his grin splitting his face and making your eyes widen as you try to scramble out of his grip. But your fate was sealed the second you straddled him, he doesn’t let you pull away.

His hands drop quickly under your thighs to supports you when he stands, your legs curling around his waist instinctively with a shocked yelp while you grip onto his shoulders in a panic.

“Wait no! Put me down.”

“Thought it was a fun idea, my love?”

“Baby!”

He doesn’t listen to your giddy complaint when he reaches over to shut off his computer, slipping his hand back under you to make sure you don’t fall with an amused smirk when he carries you to the bedroom and drops you onto the bed with a fleeting threat.

“Stay.”

He knows better. You never do.

Your eyes follow him for a few seconds before you decide to move, chasing him quickly when he stalks back to the living room and dragging him back into the bedroom with a loud huff when he gives in and allows you to pull him into the soft covers.

“If you try to get up again, I will sit on you.”

His fingers entwine with yours with a deep sigh, his face pressing into your throat with a small laugh at your extremely tempting threat. His arm winds around your waist as he pulls you flush against his chest with a tired sarcastic whisper in your ear when the sleep claws too desperately at him to fight it.

“That would be such a shame.”

♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡

You were sitting on the edge of a supply crate, your hands trembling slightly in your lap. It wasn't just the sunset it was the way Gyro had hummed a mindless tune while brushing Valkyrie, the way the smell of woodsmoke was beginning to drift through the camp, and the sheer, overwhelming realization that you were here and alive, with these people.

Johnny, who was cleaning his nails with a small knife near the fire, felt the shift in the air. He didn't even have to look up to know. He heard that specific, shaky intake of breath the one that signaled the dam was about to break.

By the time the first sob escaped you, Johnny was already moving. He dragged himself over using his arms, his movements practiced and swift, until he was at your feet.

"Hey," he said. "Look at me"

You looked down, your vision swimming. "I-I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s just... it’s all so much. The colors, and you’re being so nice, and I just-" A fresh torrent of tears spilled over, splashing onto your dusty boots.

Johnny sighed, but it was colored with a deep, hidden affection. He reached up, his strong hands grasping your waist to pull you down from the crate and into the dirt beside him. He didn't care about the dust or the fact that his pants were getting stained. He guided you until you were tucked into the crook of his arm, your head resting on his shoulder.

"You've cried four times today," he noted, his voice low and rhythmic, meant to soothe. "The bird with the broken wing, the way the morning mist looked, because Gyro gave you his last piece of jerky, and now this."

"I know," you hiccuped into his shirt, clutching the fabric of his sleeve. "I'm exhausting. I'm sorry."

Johnny went quiet for a moment. He shifted, leaning his back against the crate so he could support your weight better. He took your hand, threading his fingers through yours and squeezing hard a firm, physical reminder that you were tethered to the earth.

"I spent a long time being numb," Johnny murmured, his eyes tracking the very sunset that had overwhelmed you. "After the accident... after everything with my father... I didn't feel 'too much' of anything. It was just a cold, empty hole. Everything was a calculation. A path. A way to get my legs back."

He turned his head, pressing his temple against yours.

"Then you show up, and you’re crying because the grass is a 'pretty shade of green.' At first, it drove me crazy. I thought you were weak." He let out a dry, short laugh. "But I was wrong. It takes a lot of guts to feel the world that deeply and keep walking through it. You're not exhausting."

He reached into his sleeve, pulling out the handkerchief he’d started carrying specifically for you. It was embroidered with a small, simple pattern something he’d picked up at the last town without telling you. He began to wipe your cheeks with a surprisingly delicate touch.

"If you're going to cry every day, then I'm just going to have to be the one who holds the map so you don't walk off a cliff while you're looking at a butterfly," he teased gently, his blue eyes finally meeting yours.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your tear-reddened nose.

"Stay right here with me. as long as I'm holding onto you, you aren't going anywhere."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨

Gyro Zeppeli.

The sun was high over the desert, and the heat was enough to make anyone irritable. But Gyro was in high spirits, having just spent the last twenty minutes trying to teach you a complex "comedy routine" involving a pebble and a piece of string.

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw your expression. You weren't laughing. You weren't even looking at the pebble. You were staring at the way Valkyrie had nudged your hand with her velvet nose, her giant, intelligent eyes blinking slowly at you.

Your lip wobbled. A stray tear escaped and carved a path through the dust on your cheek.

"Oh! Oh, here we go!" Gyro didn't sound annoyed; he sounded like a conductor starting a symphony. He hopped off his horse with a dramatic clatter of spurs and holsters, landing right in front of you.

"She's just... she's so gentle, Gyro," you sobbed, the overwhelm hitting you like a physical weight. "She knows we're tired and she's trying to be nice..."

"She’s a queen! Of course she knows!" Gyro laughed, but his hands were already moving. He reached out, not just to pat your shoulder, but to scoop you into a massive, theatrical hug. He smelled like leather, and the open road.

He didn't try to make you stop. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his gold teeth flashing in a grin. "Cry it out! Get those eyes sparkly! You’re like a high-pressure steam engine if you don't let the whistle blow, you’ll explode, and I need you in one piece for the next stage!"

He reached into his vest and pulled out a small, ornate tin he’d bought at the last trading post. Inside were expensive, gold-wrapped chocolates. He popped one into your mouth before you could even protest.

"Eat. Sugar for the soul," he commanded.

As you chewed, still hiccuping, he began to walk in a circle around you, his hands resting on his Steel Balls. He was scanning the horizon, but his focus was entirely on your energy. He knew that when you got like this, the world felt too loud, so he decided to be louder.

He stopped in front of you again, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, his thumb gently smoothing over your temple.

" since you’re busy being the heart of this operation," he murmured, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, "I’ll be the shield. If a sunset is too pretty, you look at me. If the wind is too sad, you listen to me talk. I’ve got enough ego to block out the rest of the world, haven't I?"

You let out a wet, shaky laugh, and he beamed, spinning on his heel.

"There she is! The smile returns!" He grabbed your hand and gave it a gallant kiss, his eyes twinkling.

He hoisted you back onto your horse, staying close enough that his stirrup brushed against yours. Every time he noticed your eyes widening at a view or your breath hitching at a cute prairie dog, he’d immediately launch into a ridiculous story or a bad joke, expertly weaving a safety net of nonsense around you until your heart felt steady again.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨

Diego Brando.

The camp was quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of the horses. Diego was leaning against a rock, sharpening a knife, his eyes scanning the perimeter with their usual reptilian intensity. He noticed the change in you before you even realized it yourself. You were staring at the campfire at the way the embers danced and crackled, creating tiny, fleeting galaxies of sparks.

Your breathing hitched. Your eyes glazed over with that familiar, shimmering moisture.

Diego didn't make a scene. He simply stood up, his movements fluid and silent, and stalked over to you. He didn't ask "what's wrong," because he knew by now that nothing was "wrong" the world was just being "too much" for his human again.

"Lower your head," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

He didn't wait for you to comply. He sat behind you, pulling you back against his chest. His body was always slightly warmer than a normal human's, and his presence was heavy and undeniable. He wrapped his arms around you, his gloved hands resting firmly over yours, pinning you to his frame.

"I-It’s just... the fire, Diego," you whispered, a tear finally falling. "It’s so bright against the dark. It feels like... like hope."

Diego let out a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl. "Hope is a dangerous thing to cry over. It’s a waste of energy."

Despite his cynical words, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. He could feel your pulse racing under his skin, frantic and overwhelmed. He shifted his weight, shielding your vision from the flickering fire by tucking your face into the shadow of his shoulder.

"The world is a cacophony," he murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through your collarbone. "People are loud, the light is harsh, and everything wants something from you. But right here, in this circle? Nothing reaches you. I don't permit it."

He liked it when you were like this vulnerable and anchored only to him. It appealed to his most primal instincts. If you were overwhelmed, you had to rely on him to navigate. He became your eyes, your ears, and your skin.

He felt you shiver, another sob bubbling up because he was being "unexpectedly sweet," and he tightened his grip until it was almost a physical restraint. It was his way of saying I have you.

"If the world is too much, then stop looking at it," he hissed softly, though there was a hidden thread of tenderness there. "Look at me. Listen to my heart. It’s steady, isn't it? Focus on that."

He stayed like that for hours if he had to a golden, dangerous wall between you and everything else. He would glare at anyone (especially Gyro) who dared to make a noise that might startle you. To Diego, your tears were a private matter, a sign of your "softness" that only he was allowed to see and protect.

He eventually reached up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw to wipe away the last of the dampness. "Better?"

You nodded against his chest, feeling safe in the middle of a predator's hold.

"Good," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Now sleep. I'll stay awake. Nothing beautiful or 'miraculous' is going to bother you while I’m on watch."

"you're beautiful" you replied being cheeky

His response was shoving you deeper into his chest

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨

Hot pants.

The two of you were taking a rare moment of respite near a shallow creek. It was a "perfect" moment the air was cool, the water was clear, and for once, no one was trying to kill you. You were watching a pair of birds building a nest in a low-hanging branch, and Hot Pants was busy cleaning her gear.

Then, she heard it. The tell-tale, shaky breath.

She looked over to see your eyes already swimming. "They're just... they're making a home," you whispered, your voice cracking. "They're working so hard for each other."

Internally, Hot Pants is shouting It’s just biological instinct! They are winged lizards with feathers! Why are we crying?! She feels a wave of genuine panic she can handle a gunshot wound or a Stand attack, but a partner weeping over avian architecture leaves her feeling utterly powerless.

But she doesn't let it show. She can't. She’s your protector.

"Deep breaths," she said, her voice firm and level, the one she used when giving orders. She stood up and walked over, sitting beside you with a rigid, upright posture.

She didn't immediately hug you she wasn't naturally "touchy" but she reached out and took your hand. Her skin was cool and smelled faintly of the chemicals from her Stand. She began to rub her thumb over your knuckles in a slow, rhythmic circle.

"The world is full of creation and destruction," she murmured, trying to find a "logical" way to comfort you.

She shifted closer, finally allowing you to lean your head against her shoulder. She felt your tears soak into the heavy fabric of her pink tunic, and she had to suppress a shudder of pure, awkward anxiety. She felt like she was holding a bird with a broken wing; if she squeezed too hard, she’d hurt you, but if she let go, you’d fall.

"You have a heart of glass," she whispered, her voice softening as she finally accepted that you weren't going to "stop" being like this. "I spend so much time making sure no one breaks it... I forget that sometimes it just overflows on its own."

She pulled a small, clean cloth from her belt blessed or not, it was soft and began to dry your face with clinical precision. She was so careful, so thorough, as if she were performing a sacred rite.

It starts with small things. Slow Dancer letting you pet her nose without the usual period of assessment she gives everyone. turning her head toward you when you're talking even when the conversation isn't about her. Johnny notices these things and files them under fine, whatever, horses are social animals.

Then you start bringing her things. An apple here, some sugar there, talking to her in this soft voice you apparently have specifically for horses, and Slow Dancer his horse, his starts looking for you when you're not around. Turning toward your voice. Getting noticeably more settled when you're nearby.

Johnny tells himself it doesn't bother him.

It bothers him.

The breaking point is a morning when he comes to get Slow Dancer ready and she is standing with her nose pressed into your shoulder while you talk to her about something and she has the most content expression Johnny has ever seen on her face. More content than she ever looks with him. He stops walking and just looks at this scene for a moment with an expression that is complicated.

"She likes me," you say brightly when you notice him, not reading the room even slightly.

Johnny looks at Slow Dancer. Slow Dancer does not look back at him. Slow Dancer is still looking at you.

"I like you more," Johnny says.

It comes out completely flat and simple and he turns and walks away immediately because he said it before his brain caught up with his mouth and now he has to go be somewhere that isn't here. He gets approximately fifteen feet and then stops and stares at the middle distance with his jaw tight because he just said that. Out loud. In the open air.

Behind him you're doing something he can't see but Slow Dancer makes a pleased sound.

Even his horse is rooting for you. He has no allies left.

For the rest of the day he rides with the specific energy of someone pretending a thing didn't happen while being completely unable to stop thinking about it. You ride up beside him around noon and he keeps his eyes forward.

"Johnny."

"What."

"Did you mean it?"

A long pause. The landscape goes by

"...Ask Slow Dancer," he says finally, which is not a no, which you both know.

You look at Slow Dancer. She turns her big eyes to you immediately and makes a soft sound.

"She says yes," you report.

"She's a traitor," Johnny says, and something in his voice is losing a battle with something warmer, and he rides ahead before you can see his face do the thing it's doing

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨

Gyro Zeppeli.

Gyro has a complicated relationship with the fact that Valkyrie likes you.

On one hand his hand, Valkyrie is extremely selective. She tolerates most people and actively likes very few of them and has bitten at least two people who got too comfortable around her too fast. The fact that she warmed up to you is objectively a mark in your favor and Gyro knows this.

On the other hand Valkyrie has started doing things for you that she has never done for him in years of partnership and that is simply not something he can let go of without comment.

It starts when Valkyrie lets you braid something into her mane. She stands completely still for it, patient and cooperative, while you work and talk to her softly. Gyro watches this from nearby with his arms crossed.

"She never lets me do that," he says.

"Maybe you should ask nicer," you say.

"I do ask nice—" he stops because he doesn't actually ask, he just does it, but that is beside the point. "She's MY horse."

Valkyrie flicks an ear toward him that reads as dismissive.

He lets it go.

Then Valkyrie starts coming to find you when she gets loose. Not staying near Gyro's things the way she usually would actively walking over to wherever you are and standing near you like you're a point of reference. Gyro has to come collect her from your vicinity three separate times and each time he clicks his tongue and says something to her in Italian and each time she goes with him at her own pace

The real incident is when they stop for the night and Gyro goes to check on Valkyrie and finds her with her head in your lap while you're sitting against a log. She has physically put her enormous horse head in your lap. You are scratching behind her ear. She looks like she has reached a state of peace that Gyro has never provided her.

He stands there looking at this.

"Gyro," you say happily, "look—"

"I see it."

"She came and found me-"

"I see it."

He crouches down in front of Valkyrie and looks at her very seriously. She looks back at him with large unbothered eyes.

"traditrice," he tells her, very quietly.

She moves her nose fractionally closer to you.

He makes a betrayed sound and sits down on the ground nearby and starts muttering in Italian and English in a way that's hard to follow but the gist of it is that he raised her, he has fed her for years, he has treated her well, and this is the thanks he gets, and so on.

"Are you jealous of a horse?" you ask.

"I am jealous of the ATTENTION—" he catches himself. "I'm not jealous."

"You're jealous."

"I want what I want," he says, which is such a Gyro way to accidentally admit something that you almost miss it.

You look at him.

He looks back and then looks away and then says, to Valkyrie, pointedly

"Tell them I want what I want."

Valkyrie does not translate this. She stays in your lap.

"I think she told me already," you say.

Gyro looks at you for a moment and then tips his hat down over his face and lies back against the ground and says "I'm going to sleep" at the sky.

He stays exactly where he is, within arm's reach, for the rest of the evening

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨

Diego Brando.

Diego's relationship with Silver bullet is one of the most genuine things about him.and that has always been the whole of it a loyalty that doesn't require performance, that just exists, which for Diego who performs almost everything is quietly essential.

So when Silver bullet starts showing a marked preference for your company he experiences it as a personal betrayal of the highest order.

He doesn't say this. He would rather fall off Silver bullet at full gallop than say this. But the way his eyes track you when you're near him, the way his jaw sets when he turns toward your voice, the way he calls silver bullet back to him with slightly more edge than necessary it's all there for anyone paying attention.

You're paying attention.

You also find the whole thing genuinely funny which is something Diego finds deeply irritating.

"he followed me again," you tell him one evening, without any attempt to hide your delight. Silver bullet is standing near you.

"he does that," Diego says dismissively. "He's curious. It doesn't mean anything."

"he left your side to follow me."

"he wanders."

"Diego he walked through a stream to get to me."

He looks at Silver bullet. His horse looks at you.

"Silver bullet," he says. His voice has a very particular quality.

He flicks his tail.

He says his name again louder this time

He moves approximately one step toward him. Then stops. Then looks back at you.

Diego pinches the bridge of his nose.

He gets through the evening without saying anything about it, which takes more effort than it should. But the next morning when you come over to say good morning to Silver Bullet which you do now, apparently, this is a thing you do now he's already there and he watches you with him and something in his face does something complicated before he shuts it down.

"he has good taste" You say proudly.

"he has sentimental taste..." Coming from diego it seemed like a highly achieved compliment

You look at him. "Is that your version of saying he knows a good thing when he sees it?"

He looks back at you for a long moment.

"he's a horse," he says. "He doesn't reason that far."

"Hm," you say.

Silver bullet pushes his nose into your hand.

Diego watches this happen. Something in his expression does the complicated thing again and this time he doesn't fully shut it down before you see it.

"he's not wrong," he says quietly, like it costs something, and walks away before you can respond, and the fact that he doesn't look back is doing a lot of work in a Diego Brando way.

Silver Blaze watches him go and then looks at you.

"Yeah," you tell him. "Me too."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨

Hot Pants.

Hot Pants' horse is steady and reliable and professional about everything, which is fitting because Hot Pants is steady and reliable and professional about everything and they suit each other. She has never been an expressive horse not standoffish, Going where she's supposed to go and doing what she's supposed to do.

So when her horse starts being expressive around you it takes Hot Pants a moment to even recognize what she's seeing.

It's a nudge at first. Her horse putting her nose against your arm while you're standing nearby unprompted, You go still with surprise and then smile and reach up to pet her and say something soft to her and her horse leans into it.

Hot Pants watches this from a short distance away with an unreadable expression.

She processes it practically. Her horse likes you. That's useful information about you animals read people accurately. She files it and moves on.

Except her horse keeps doing it. Finds you across camp. Stays near you when she's not being directed otherwise. Makes sounds she doesn't usually make small, content ones when you're talking nearby. Hot Pants notices all of this and keeps filing it and the file is getting very full.

The moment that gets her is when she comes back from scouting and her horse is standing with you and you're talking to the horse in a way you do like she understands, like the conversation matters and her horse looks more relaxed than Hot Pants has seen her horse look in the entire race.

She stands there for a second.

"your horse really likes me," you say when you notice her, nodding at the horse.

"I can see that," Hot Pants says. Her voice is neutral.

"Does that bother you?"

A pause. Hot Pants looks at her horse. Her horse looks at you.

"No," she says.

Which is true. It doesn't bother her. What bothers her is the thing underneath it the fact that her horse, who has her trust completely, has extended that trust to you, and Hot Pants doesn't know what to do with the information that maybe her horse knows something she's been deliberately not letting herself know.

She takes the reins and her horse comes with her, and as she's walking away her horse turns her head back toward you once.

Hot Pants keeps walking.

"it'll get over it," she says, which is directed at her horse and possibly also herself.

She doesn't get over it. The next morning she's standing with you both and her horse is between you

Then she looks at you.

"it doesn't do this with anyone," she says quietly.

You understand what it means.

"I know," you say, just as quietly.

Her horse presses her nose between you both like she's trying to close whatever distance is left.

𝑩 = 𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥’𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝑪 = 𝑪𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 (𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵.

𝑫 = 𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 (𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴… 𝘏𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳.

𝑬 = 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑰𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺, 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝑭 = 𝑭𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆(𝒆) (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅?)

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰. 𝘓𝘢 𝘚𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘥𝘳𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘸… 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝑮 = 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴: “𝘖𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.” 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝑯 = 𝑯𝒖𝒈𝒔 (𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒔? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯, 𝘏𝘌 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘈𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳… 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸.

𝑰 = 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑳-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 “𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶”, “𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶”, “𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯”… 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 “𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶” 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝑱 = 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒆𝒕? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘏𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧. 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩.

𝑿 = 𝑿𝒕𝒓𝒂 (𝑨 𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎.)

𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦… 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦'𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵… 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵.

It happens just as much to him that he starts trying to actually avoid you out of fear that you’ll think he’s stalking you, he somehow always ends up running into you around the town, his eyes always finding yours across a room. 

And then it happens, a playful remark about that he must be following you.

And he panics, soft apologies and a deep red blush on his face as he desperately tries to explain he wasn’t and that it just keeps happening. 

He doesn’t stop speaking til you stop him, laughing sweetly as you tell him it was just teasing and you don’t think he’s actually following you.

The sigh he lets out is exhausted, a gentle smile on his lips as he continues the conversation with you without that stress.

He quickly becomes someone you seek out almost daily, you're a welcome company for him too, his eyes watching you intently as you both speak to each other about anything that's on your minds.

And it isn’t long before you start to fall for each other, hard.

He’s not subtle about it. He’s consistently a blushing mess whenever you’re around each other, if you tease him sweetly over it? 

Yeah he has to actually stop speaking too because he’s stammering trying to keep his composure, it doesn’t go well.

It gets easier the longer his crush lasts but it never goes away.

Eventually he just comes up to you and tells you how much he likes you, he doesn’t even realise that you like him just as much because he’s been so worried that you would hate him if he told you.

But he’s so glad he did.

Quickly settling from a deep friendship to a relationship with ease, it feels basically no different than just how you acted as friends, just touchier.

His hand in yours almost always, his jacket whenever you’re cold, occasionally a flustered peck on the lips that he ALWAYS apologises for with a blush.

It takes him a very long time to get used to kissing you, especially anything longer than a second, but he tries oh so hard.

He just gets so caught up in how much he wants to keep kissing you that he loses himself in it and is so worried that he’s going to push you too far.

So he keeps his affection down to small pecks as often as you let him.

He is by your side most of the time, he truly adores being around you in any capacity.

Yes, if you want your own space he won’t mind in the slightest, he won’t make you feel bad for wanting to do something by yourself or just be alone in the house for a while.

He is a little sad but he doesn’t think it’s because you don’t love him or don’t want to be around him but it still makes him just a bit sad because he loves to spend time with you.

He does like his own time just as much though, it just isn’t as big of a deal to him if he’s doing something alone or with you as long as he still gets it done. Sometimes he doesn’t talk for a while but he enjoys being in your presence.

Oh this sweetheart, he is not good at cooking but after the mansion burnt down he tries really hard to get better just so he can cook for you as much as you cook for him.

If you like to bake or cook he will ask so sweetly for you to teach him or just for him to be involved in any way, even if you just make him cut things for you.

He will do it with a massive grin on his face and a peck to your cheek.

He LOVES literally any way of getting to hold you, if you let him he will happily hold you for hours, just resting and reading or just talking and cuddling up with one another.

It makes him so relaxed to rest his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

He genuinely could not care what you wear, he thinks you look perfect in anything…

We saw what he was wearing… He does NOT have the fashion sense to know what looks good and what doesn’t, all he knows is that you do.

All the time, and he will tell you with a light pink blush on his cheeks and a grin.

NSFW -

Idk why people always think that he is too innocent to even have impure thoughts about his S/O…

Yes this man may be gentlemanly but his thoughts are not... At all, he will be incredibly flustered anytime it happens though because to him it feels like he’s desecrating your image and it makes him feel guilty.

But he thinks about you so much, his eyes unconsciously dragging down your body as his mind races with thoughts on how you look under them.

He won’t jerk off the majority of the time unless he REALLY needs to because he once again feels so guilty because his thoughts always slip back to you... How you looked this morning, how good you felt sitting on his lap, how good your lips would feel around his…

Yeah he doesn’t last long, he actually debates apologising to you after but he gets so embarrassed over it that he can’t bring it up.

He does always take you out on a date the day afterwards though to make up for it.

Yes… He was absolutely doing this before dating you too, it made him spiral so hard. It was rare he would, his thoughts always dragging back to you unintentionally, but it felt too good to stop.

Eventually you’re going to catch him in a moment where he’s hard and he gets flustered, it happens a lot but he just hopes you never bring it up.

Until you do.

And you have to reassure him that it’s okay and that he can actually think about you in that way, that he can touch himself thinking about you. That you can touch him. 

He refuses for the first few times you ever bring it up, in his eyes he can’t because he wants to be so gentlemanly and wants to make sure he doesn’t make you feel pressured or that you need to help him with his problems… At that point just tell him you do it too.

It will literally blow his mind. Yes he isn’t this completely innocent man, he thinks about you in that way a lot, but the thought you do too is shocking to him.

Eventually he will gently broach the subject, asking you if you meant what you said… That you can touch each other, he asks to touch you. To make you feel good.

Not sex. 

But an overwhelming want in the way his fingers drag across your body, the adoration in his eyes when he drops to his knees because he needs to taste you.

And it’s so desperate… Completely, he needs guidance but he is so eager to make you feel good. 

He won’t ask you to touch him, hell he will absolutely deny it for a long while. But when he lets you wrap your hand around him? He doesn’t last long.

He cums fast with broken moaned apologies. Especially if you use your mouth, or clean him with your tongue after.

He has NEVER blushed harder, he looks like he’s seconds from passing out because he is so blissed out but so shocked and panicked that you would do that.

He is absolutely old fashioned and wants to wait until marriage to have sex, it makes him feel like he’s almost cursing you, like you might want to not want to be with him and then you’d be stuck with him forever.

He needs to know that you love him as much as he does.

But oh god.

The second you’re married? You better hope that you have STAMINA.

He may be a virgin but this man is not stopping until you can’t go anymore. He is so drunk on how good that you feel that he does NOT care about how loud he is being, he is a whimpering mess while he tries not to finish.

He can’t even form a full sentence other than just panted “I love you.” Over and over while he barely even rocks his hips because if he goes any faster he’s going to finish.

He physically has to cover your mouth at times to keep you quiet and stop moving before he loses control, eyes closed, deep grounding breaths as he tries to pull out before he cums so he can calm down before continuing.

Tell him he can finish.

He will…

But it is NOT stopping there, especially if you haven’t finished, he refuses to just leave you needing more.

He absolutely will give you head, you don’t even need to ask or get the chance to say that he doesn’t need to, the second he comes down from his high he’s already moving.

He needs to make you feel good, he needs to taste you. He doesn’t care how long it takes, nor that he just came inside you. He will make you cum.

He is very vanilla, not only is he too kind to manhandle you in case he hurts you, but the time period isn’t the kinkiest either. It’s not very common to talk about kinks nor buy anything kinky really.

But that does not mean that he won’t try things that you want to, as long as you both are consenting and trust each other then he wants to try, but he won’t ever hurt you.

Ever.

He is absolutely into overstimulation, for the both of you… Not even really intentionally, you just feel so good he can't help but keep dragging you both through it for as long as he can, he doesn't do quickies. Every time he wants to make sure you're completely satisfied...

What he won't admit is that he can't get enough of how perfect you look limp and whimpering underneath him, it does make him feel guilty when he makes you cry... But knowing he makes you feel so good you're sobbing, yeah it turns him on like CRAZY.

And if you have any type of praise kink?

Good luck..

Because this man is NOT going to stop praising you over and over, it is all that is coming out of his mouth other than moans and gasps. 

He won’t ever degrade you, it just isn’t him, he never wants to say something cruel to you even if you really want him to.

He will attempt maybe once or twice but it makes him so violently uncomfortable that he just says outright he doesn't like it...

In the same bracket of things he doesn't like, he hates if you're being a brat. Lightly teasing? It's cute.

But he does not want to deal with you acting out instead of just asking for what you want.

The sex is intimate and loving, but it is NOT gentle.

I refuse to believe this 6"5, insanely muscled, doesn’t know his own strength man is not being rough accidentally.

And never in the way that would actually hurt you, but every single thrust is devastating, tearing the breath out of you levels of brutal.

All while he is sweetly praising you about how good you feel, how well you take him, how pretty you sound when you cry out his name.

If you tell him he’s being too rough he will feel TERRIBLE, he really does not know his strength… But if you still want to keep going?

Yeah, he’s just going to ask you to ride him instead.

And that’s 100% how realises how much he likes it, getting to watch you get yourself off on him while he watches his length sink into you?

Perfection.

He can’t keep his hands off of you for even a second while you ride him, it’s not even intentional.

He just needs to feel you… And drag your hips back against him when you try to tease, or slow when you’re close.

He doesn’t like to edge you often, he can’t resist making you cum when you keep begging so sweetly, but he is such a sucker for you edging him.

He loves fully giving you complete control over him, you’d think this absolute behemoth of a man would just take it back when he can’t handle the way you keep denying him over and over.

But he doesn’t. He keeps his hands to himself.

He begs so sweetly, he asks for it, it’s gentle and desperate and he needs to finish so badly. And then when you let him cum? He is sobbing out sweet little “I love you.” and thanking you for making him feel good…

It’s pathetic and so… So hot.