#''only in the black skies can you see a firework's beauty''

[minnaci]

spent the last half an hourish translating the lyrics for isha's song and im DEVASTATED i got the gist after listening a few times but my diaspo mando by ear wasn't enough for me to really feel all the heartbreak... and now i get it. Now I Get It.

[helenflaneur]

Mediterranean, 

Shmediterreanan,

Dead-iterranean

22nd June to 30th July

1. Port Saint Louis du Rhone to 2. VilleFranche and back again

In the words of Julius Cesaer, a well known Mediterran-ophile 

‘Devenimus, voluti, discessimus’ 

(We arrived, we rolled, we left)

Our first sight of the Med outside Port Saint Louis du Rhone. Those masts are not where they should be………….

Whilst in Toulon Mark worked happily on installing the black water tank (the pooh tank) we’ve carted around in the engine room since 2018.  

As strong winds were predicted I went to noice Nice to see the Matisse museum and the Chagall museum. 

Flemmo friends Mick and Megan came to play and stay on board from Toulon to Villefranche-sur-mer.

Man, it was hot, hot, hot. We were in the grip of an extreme heat wave with no temps under 23 at night and a hot and humid 33 (minimum) every day. Luckily we were at anchor most of the time so a cooling swim helped. 

The anchorage at Île de Porquerolles was very calm and beautiful. The island is a holiday destination and is covered in eucalypts making us quite homesick. 

On July 14 all of France collaborated to celebrate Mark’s birthday. We were anchored off the coast of Cannes at the Lérin Islands between Ile Sainte-Marguerite (where the Man in the Iron Mask languished) and Ile Saint-Honorat with about 20,000 of our closest boating friends. Slight exaggeration…..as you can see there is plenty of room for more boats to slot in.

As part of celebration central you could choose a visit from the pizza boat, the champagne and wine boat or the mojito boat.

Megan chose the very popular mojito boat.

The lovely young man tied alongside to create four extra large mojitos, yum, yum. 

And he even gave us extra ice. 

(Strangely there’s not an ice making machine on the shelves in France to be seen.)

Of course there were fireworks for Mark’s birthday. 

And again the next night. 

To get away from the incessant rolling in the Med mostly caused by way too many speed boats, motor boats, enormous tenders and super yachts we spent a couple of nights in the lovely port of Golfe Juan. It was super hot but the port had a/c in the bathrooms, unlimited water in the shower and free (for plaisanciers) chilled sparkling or flat water. OMG! Heaven on a stick, or, in a bottle.

5 minutes up the hill is the ceramic town of Vallauris in which Picasso lived for 7 years. Vallauris has been a ceramics town for 2000 years and its ceramic experts enabled Picasso to create over 4000 clay objects.

You can say what you like about Picasso but he was nothing if not prolific and his clay artworks in the Museum of Ceramics were wonderful, irrepressible and delightful.

We anchored off Antibes, very much the holiday town, and were surrounded by all these little ducklings.

Mick and Megan left us in the Lorne of Nice: Villefranche-sur-mer to return to wintery Melbourne.

We turned out bows west to leave behind the hedonistic fleshpots of the Mediterranean in summer.

Pausing only to take advantage of the pizza boat (a mighty YUM!) between those islands out of Cannes. Resisted the mojitos this time.

There was so much watery wealth on display. So much of it ugly and tasteless. Often complete with a 20m tender and a helipad, sometimes two. 

This is a beautiful boat.

And so is this…..

This modern super yacht (110m) has nice enough lines.

Elegant? I think not.

World Explorer is 77m of pure fugly. And don’t get me started on the festering scab of jet skis.

Baie des Canebiers is a glorious bay just out of Saint Tropez. It’s an excellent anchorage for both big and little boats.  It’s very rolly in the morning as everyone speeds out to wherever they’re going, settles a little for lunch, and rolls around like crazy as they all come back in at the end of the day. Just as the sea settles and the sun sets and you don’t have to hang onto your glass of wine for fear of it ending up overboard and all is peaceful the music starts.

At one point ‘doof doof doofy’ music was belching from three separate locations: a catamaran anchored too close to us and two houses at either end of the bay. 

Seriously….

Seriously selfish as one of the party locations played their ‘music’ until 7.30am.

And we were stuck in this ‘playground of the rich and beautiful’ for four nights because the westerly headwinds would not change direction.

We motor sailed to Toulon where real people have boats and onto Port Miou, a calanque just outside Cassis. It is a glorious place where you tie the stern to the cliff and pick up a mooring ball and watch the young men jump 10m, 20m or even 30m into the harbour. 

Another reason for abandoning the hot, salty, overcrowded and selfish Mediterranean is poor old ‘Le Flâneur’ needs some serious love and attention. She already is showing too much rust on various deck parts and a salty environment is only going to make it worse. 

Her hull and topsides need new paint. The best place to do these major renovations is La Pays Bas, The Netherlands, Holland. 

Or maybe Poland.

So north we go. 

Flaneuring all the way.

[earthboundvalkyrie]

Under Purple Clouds

New Post has been published on https://www.ebvs.blog/2023/03/09/under-purple-clouds/

Under Purple Clouds

Chapter One of “Walking Through the Past”

One of the sites I write at, Vocal.media, is running a contest in which you write the first chapter of a hypothetical magical realism book, starting with an assigned sentence. Below is my entry. It’s not a long read, maybe 5 minutes.

I’m not expecting to win the contest or anything as this is my first real try at writing fiction, but I would appreciate any comments or guidance in case I decide to try writing more.

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It was a stunning sight, on par with seeing the Aurora Borealis in person, and evey month, hundreds of people came to Elk Grove just to witness it. Initially, some townspeople wanted it fixed, but no one could figure out how. Then many started to find the display quite beautiful, and when it became a tourist attraction, everyone agreed to leave it alone.

There was an old high school tradition that each year, students would create some kind of a sky-show to celebrate graduation. Most classes went for animated writing, virtual fireworks or something to that effect – a display that could be seen from the ground – but one year, the students decided to try transforming the sky itself. The effect was only supposed to last for one hour that night, but it returned again the next night, and the next, and so on for the last 10 years.

Still, it generally made Janessa smile. The colours were beautifully harmonized, and the movement of the clouds was fluid and graceful. Tonight, however, she was finding it hard to smile. She snuffed out her cigarette in an old flower pot, pulled her cardigan a bit tighter around her and went back inside to a waiting N’Davi.

“Honey,” he started, quietly, “I know its hard on you, but we’re just not getting anywhere on this case.” His soft blue eyes pleaded with her. “Since we lost Brett, we haven’t…”

“I know,” she interrupted. “You haven’t been able to find another past reader.” She sighed and sat down next to him on the couch, it’s burgundy leather creaking with the movement. N’Davi put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“We even brought in a spirit speaker, hon, but the spirit couldn’t help us. He hadn’t seen his killer, so he couldn’t give us any clues.”

Janessa took out another cigarette, created a small flame in her hand to light it and took a long drag. “You know I’ll do it,” she sighed. “I’m not going to let a killer get off just because it’s hard to watch a murder. I just would like…” she paused to take another puff. D’Navi nodded to her, encouraging her to finish her thought. “I’d just like to feel like I had the option of saying ‘no’… that… I don’t know, I just…”

“You just wish it wasn’t always you, right?” he asked, pulling her over closer and kissing her gently on the temple. He brushed her long blonde hair back from her face.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Look, it’s late now, can we do it in the morning?” Janessa looked at her husband. You’d never know he was a cop, she thought. His blue eyes were kind, his broad smile gentle. Even his hair had a soft look to it, numerous black strands creating a frame around his face, the rest somehow managing to look casually windblown and perfectly sculpted at the same time.

“Of course we can. I’ll just call the boss and let him know we’ll be there in the morning, ok?”

She squeezed his hand as he stood up, then pulled him toward her for a quick kiss. “Yeah, ok.”

She wandered into the bedroom and snuggled down into their large soft bed. A few minutes later, she felt her husband join her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close as the skies faded back to black.

It felt too early for the alarm to be ringing when Janessa woke the next morning, but it was the usual 7:00 am. She nudged N’Davi a couple of times before he began to stir. How he could sleep through the alarm she had no idea, but he managed to do it regularly. Wrapping her robe around her she headed out to the kitchen for a quick breakfast of Greek yogurt and orange juice. She chuckled as N’Davi stumbled out from the bedroom, his robe inside out and his hair pointing in every direction. She quickly poured him a cup of coffee, touselled his hair a bit, and headed back to the master bathroom for a shower before getting dressed.

She adjusted the temperature on the shower just the way she liked it, then paused for a moment. She was rewarded with a sharp cry and several curse words from her husband as he discovered yet again that fresh brewed coffee was hot. Knowing he wouldn’t fall back asleep now, she quickly ran her hand through the water adding a light jasmine fragerance to it, then stepped inside. The scent would linger on her skin for several hours, and she hoped it would help keep her calm as she prepared for the past reading she’d be doing that morning.

They finished dressing and headed out to their car. The drive to the Elk Grove police station was peaceful as they drove down the tree-lined streets of their post-WWII subdivision with it’s little, boxy houses before reaching the towns main thoroughfare. The station quickly came into view and they pulled into the parking lot. Entering the station, Janessa was overwhelmed by the sight of all the bodies in blue hustling from desks to file cabinets to computers and back, and the smell of stale coffee and the sweat of hard work. Elk Grove was a mid-sized, middle-class suburb, so there wasn’t a lot of serious crime, but the work of vandals, petty burglars, overheated rednecks brawling at the bars and reckless joyriders still added up.

“Chief!” N’Davi called out, waving his boss over.

“What’s up, Richards” the keys at his waist jangled as his shoes tapped out a staccato rhythm. He turned to Janessa “Good morning, Ma’am!”

She smiled as N’Davi answered “I brought Janessa along to see if she can help us get any more information from the crime scene on the Taylor murder.”

“Ah! Good idea!” the chief replied “Let me know what you find… ” his eye caught a motion from the back of the room and he held up his index finger to let someone know he’d be a moment. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve been needing to speak to Garfield.” He nodded to both N’Davi and Janessa, then took off.

N’Davi turned to his wife “Well, dear, shall we get this over with?”

She nodded. N’Davi made his way over to the key holder, grabbed the key for his patrol car and led her back outside. They got in the car and headed for the exit, As N’Davi checked to make sure the road was clear before pulling into the street. As he began his turn, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Cresting the top of the hill near the driveway was a black SUV that had been blocked from view, and it was coming at them extrordinarily fast. N’Davi tried to pull back into the parking lot, but he was too late. He and Janessa barely had time to hear, more than feel, the initial crunch as the SUV plowed into their side, before everything went black.

[doingthedirtydishes]

Trading in the rocky shoreline of Maine for the granite faces of New Hampshire; Live Free or Die!: My adventure to the White Mountains and Lakes Region.

As it was appearing my stay in Maine would be extended into autumn, due to the ever-continued international Covid-19 health and economic crisis, remaining here for yet another season, and possibly winter too, it was time to venture out-and-about further into the region to see what New England had to offer. Fall in New England, as the expression goes, is spectacular – an explosive vivid symphony of lucid supernatural wonder and beauty on display, nature’s finest fireworks.

A few months prior, while on the patio at my hotel, I met a nice Polish lady from upstate New York, Zuza. She is an interior designer for Hilton corporate brand. She also is an artist who creates the most stunning mosaics. At first, she thought I was a bit strange; not uncommon for people to think such at first. But after some time she and I became able friends. A few weeks later she rang me on my mobile to ask me if I would join her on a trip to New Hampshire.

It only took but a few seconds to figure a decision. “A trip to the Live Free or Die state, I am an emphatic yes,” I told her, as a massive smile grew on my face – my eyes swiftly welling with excitement. The time to get out of dodge had arrived, and with my new friend from New York, we were planning our White Mountains adventure.  She told me, “Steven, it will be a fun quest. We are both in need of some stress relief.” “Oh,” she said, as she was hanging up the call, “I hope you don’t mind my pup joining us.” “No, I love dogs – the more the merrier,” I stated.

Perhaps I should have taken some pause before responding in agreement. As it turns out, her “pup” is more like a small Siberian bear than a dog. Rowan is his name – a 140lb Leonberger show dog, a one-year-old puppy. She tells me, “He is well behaved and loves road trips. He is a rock-star everywhere I take him. You will see.” “Sure Zuza, it sounds as if soon Rowan and I will become good friends.” It was with frightful anticipation I expected meeting the “pup.”

As a few weeks remained before our trip, it was time to plan our mountain exploration. We planned to visit two regions of New Hampshire: Lakes Region in central and White Mountains in the north. As we would also be visiting an old classmate from my school days at BGU in Israel, Matthew, presently the owner of an outdoor style clothing company founded in NH, Lake Life Brand, for a photo shoot in the Lakes Region, our time and schedule were quickly filling up. As stated in my book, Unbreakable Mind: Life is meant to be lived, so go live it – Teeth to the wind!

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.”

— Mark Twain

Itinerary set, Zuza was to arrive on the following Wednesday, at my hotel in Portland, Maine, to commence our trip with Rowan. About noon, with clear blue azure skies, wispy clouds abound, a black extended Jeep wrangler pulled up in front of the hotel. Hanging out of the window was this over-sized hirsute ball of irascible beauty and beastly allure. He might be the size of a small bear but he has the heart of one too – it was obvious, “Ro” is a big love-bug-bear. Kisses all-round.

In a matter of minutes, bags packed into the back of the Jeep, wheelchair neatly stored away, and Rowan’s spot (substantial, I might add) clearly demarcated – we were finally off on our road trip. “Where shall we go, Steven?” Zuza, like me, loves getting into the car and just driving, driving with no destination in mind. “Ok, sounds fine to me. But please first tell me where we are sleeping tonight so I can plan our day.” Zuza reserved the same Hilton hotel Vernon, my hotel manager, recommended we stay, a sister Giri property where we would be well taken care of.

“Not all those who wander are lost.” 

— J.R.R. Tolkien

It was a bit out of the way but we decided to cross over into New Hampshire from Maine further north and immediately drive the famous Kancamagus Scenic Byway. But first we decided to stop off for lunch at the 302 West Smokehouse & Tavern in Fryeburg, with wondrous scenic views of nearby rolling farm pastures and vistas of the White Mountains far off in the background. After two hours in the sun, a few local delish IPAs consumed, it was time to venture to the mountains.

Once we passed over the line into the state of NH, it was only a short fifteen minute drive to the entrance of “The Kanc” – a 55 km scenic drive, climbing almost 1000 meters in elevation, along New Hampshire’s Rout 112, a carved path that winds itself through the White Mountain National Forest, with endless hairpin turns alongside the Swift River, with breathtaking views of the Sabbaday Falls, Lower Falls and Rocky Gorge. NH fall foliage was absolutely brilliant.

At one point on the drive we could see that the top twenty percent of Mount Washington was snow-covered. The cold arctic winds that blow in from Canada were already making their presence felt, if only atop high peaks. But it was still fall, with all its innocent aesthetic beauty at play in God’s cathedral. At the end of the drive we came into a small town with only two choices to eat. We chose to eat Mexican. Afterward, we both agreed to never again eat tacos in NH.

Late into the evening we had a long cold drive to our hotel in the Lakes Region of NH, two hours further south than us. With fall foliage in New England in full bloom, and Covid-19 travel and social distancing measures in place, there were more than the usual amounts of day or weekend trippers in that area. The next morning we were going to meet Matthew and Stacy for a photo shoot for his clothing company at a few local lakes: Silver, Winnisquam and Winnipesaukee.

The morning of my debut as a sexy wheelchair model was one of overcast skies with rain in the forecast – great muted colors for a successful photo shoot, and start to my GQ career. Stacy was a consummate professional; Matt a consummate goofball. It was splendid fun for all involved. Zuza and Rowan even got swept up into the fall photography shoot extravaganza, posing by the lake. Photos of NH and other travels can be seen on my website, Doing The Dirty Dishes.

With the photo shoot behind us, my fifteen minutes of fame fading fast, no longer puparazzi in tow, it was time to explore the Lakes Region. For the next three hours we drove aimlessly and endlessly down any roadway, paved or dirt, that we could enter with a 4×4 Jeep. We ended up in a small, quaint charming town, Meredith. We decided to stop for lunch at Twin Barns Brewing Company. There we would meet three retired professionals from Baston, MA. Never was more fun and laughter had on a brisk Saturday evening in fall than with Sheehan, McGuirk and GG. 

Craig AKA GG is a retired dentist with a penchant for being a considerate guy. He and his close friends all bought mountain homes in nearby Meredith – which has more of a village ambiance than small city. It is the entrance town for tourists wishing to enter the Lakes Region of NH. The town has an intimate and restful feel to it, the perfect place some R&R, especially during a pandemic. On our way of town we stopped at Kellerhaus for some German chocolate decadence.  

“Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in the world. “

— Gustave Flaubert

After three days of epic excitement in the lakes and mountains regions it was time to migrate more toward the ocean, where New Hampshire owns an immense sliver of beachfront real estate. The Atlantic Ocean coastline of NH is a whopping 28.9 km, the shortest of any state. We were not so interested in the over-stimulating rocky seacoast beaches as much as the port city on the Piscataqua River, Portsmouth. It is a historic seaport and popular summer tourist destination.

Portsmouth, with it noted 17th and 18th–century colorfully painted homes, delicious local seafood restaurants, astounding art and architecture, winding town roads and ways replete with a plethora of parks and outdoor recreation areas, is a romantic town surely worthy of a weekend trip. Since “Chowda” is a staple of New England, each state having their own version (clam, seafood or fish), it was time to sample some local fare. Sanders Fish Market has the best chowder soup and lobster roll in NH. Though the lobster roll was incredibly delicious, Maine still wins the award.    

When Zuza said that Rowan was a rock-star, she was not kidding. Literally everywhere we went with him people stopped to ask about, pet and photograph him. If we were in the car, even at a red light, it made no difference – the “Ro-Bear” was a dog in high demand –people everywhere flocked to him like a reincarnated neon Elvis in Memphis. After my first and only model photo shoot and ethereal fifteen minutes of fame, I was more than willing to give up my throne to my new Ursidae Canis lupis familiaris friend. Thank you Zuza and Rowan for a memorable trip! 

Photo credit: Stacy Cusack Photography

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher. 

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.  

Thank you for your love and support.

[bokutosworld]

no place like home | hq boys with their kids! 

characters: schweiden adlers boys with their kids - kageyama, ushijima, hoshiumi! 

wc: 1.2k words, pure fluff!

summary: part two of home sweet home where we now take a look at how the three men from schweiden adlers spend time with their little ones.  

a/n: a second part that no one asked but i wanted to do cos i’ve been feeling soft and having baby fever again lmfao hehe oh and i hope everyone’s enjoying a happy holidays! 

KAGEYAMA TOBIO Unlike most parents, Kageyama's job as a professional volleyball player didn't allow him the luxury of doing what most moms and dads do with their kids. It's not as if he's neglected his parental responsibilities, he's the type to spoil his four-year-old Kaito with gifts and toys, he was just unfortunate to not have enough time to spend with him.

But on a particular day off, the stars seemed to have aligned when you asked him to pick up Kaito from daycare. Kageyama looked forward to this opportunity and he had planned an afternoon for a long overdue father-and-son bonding. However, due to his celebrity athlete status, Kageyama was mindful of being swarmed by fans so he took it to mind to wear his best disguise (see: black cap, black shades, white shirt and jeans, finished with a denim jacket).

As soon as he's parked across the daycare center, Kageyama immediately earned the attention of the moms who were also waiting for their children. It didn't help that when he stepped out of the car, they all swooned over him and recognized that he was the star setter from Schweiden Adlers. And when the bell rang and footsteps came running from the building, all the kids also stood in awe as they noticed the familiar tall person who they looked up to and only watched in the TVs. But to Kageyama, the one attention that only mattered was that of his son's.

"Kaito, over here!" He waved over the little boy, and seeing his father's presence in the crowd, Kaito sped off to where Kageyama was. He welcomed the young boy with open arms, peppering his cute face with kisses and lifting him up from the ground. The audience that have gathered were starstruck to see the usual stoic player break his facade and become a doting father to his adorable mini-me.

"You made it, Papa! I thought Mama was joking when she said you will fetch me after school," the child said through his fits of giggles.

Kageyama pressed his forehead to his son's and whispered, "I never break my promises." He put Kaito down and held his hand as they began walking to their car, saying goodbye to his classmates. "Now, let's go get some ice cream!"

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI   It was the first summer festival that you wouldn't be attending  with your family, and your five-year-old daughter, Isuzu, was extremely heartbroken. What she didn't know was that you've made Ushijima promise that he would still bring her to the festival and catch the fireworks show.

So there they were standing at the entrance to the festival, your husband and daughter are clad in matching yukatas that you prepared. Ushijima was wearing a midnight blue yukata that was adorned with white stripes and strapped to his waist with a white sash. Meanwhile, your little girl was donning a pink yukata with blooming flower patterns. For her finishing touch, Ushijima tied her hair up in a bun and used a beautiful kanzashi that he gifted to you to tie it up. Before they left home, he sent you a photo and bragged about his hair tying skills.

The father-and-daughter duo leisurely strolled around the venue, checking out booths and trying different food stalls. The people around them gushed over how Ushijima was wrapped around his daughter's fingers, complying to her requests and winning her stuffed toys from games. And when the announcement about the fireworks show blared through the speakers, they joined the crowd to the viewing area.

Ushijma noticed how Isuzu was jittery from the spectators that have gathered in the viewing deck. He bent down and wiped the tears that were forming on her eyes, "Princess, don't cry. I'm here." Isuzu only clung tighter to her father, and it was then that he decided to offer his back to her.

"Come, wrap your arms around me and hop on. I'll lift you closer to the skies." The young girl stopped her crying and smiled a little, moving to his back and encircling her arms around her father's strong shoulders. Ushijima helped her adjust and secured her on his shoulders, making Isuzu gasp as she was now safe and towering over the crowd.

Her eyes flitted above as she heard the sounds of fireworks and enjoyed the colorful sparks that were painting the evening skies. Ushijima reveled in how his daughter was looking at the clouds in awe, clapping and laughing along with each bright explosion. But what he would treasure the most was how his precious Isuzu was glowing under the fireworks light.

HOSHIUMI KORAI The Hoshiumi household was a lively and loud one. Chaos often ensued with the twins, Mako and Kohei, and the youngest girl Nanami, as they were currently at that age where they always seemed to be full of energy and liked to run around the house. And Korai was the type of dad who would join in on the fun and play with his beloved children.

Moments of peace and quiet would be found at night when the kids are tucked in bed and getting ready to drift off to dreamland. However, they wouldn't be able to have a proper good night sleep without their father reading them a bedtime story.

It was another night when you returned home late and opened the door to dark, silent house. A sliver of light can be seen coming from the kids' door upstairs and you assume that it was bedtime for them. You tiptoed carefully and was nearing their room when you heard the gentle voice of Hoshiumi reading a passage from The Little Red Riding Hood. You leaned on the door and watched your boys and little girl enjoying a classic tale.

When Hoshiumi finished reading, he turned to the kids and saw the twins passed out and snoring. But his princess seemed to be wide awake, and terrified at the thought of the wolf eating Little Red Riding Hood. "Papa, will a wolf come and eat you and Mama?" She asked with her trembling voice.

You and Hoshiumi chuckled at her question, but your husband put the book down and scooted closer to Nanami. He hugged her, patting her head so slowly as he assured, "If you become a good girl and listen to Mama and Papa's warnings, then no wolf will come to eat us." He kissed the top of her head, "Now, go sleep. I'll be here, I'll never leave your side."

The little girl seemed to relax in his hold and Hoshiumi turned towards you at the door. He sent you a sweet smile, "I'm sorry, love. You'll have to sleep alone in bed tonight." You shaked your head but sent him a flying kiss as you closed the door to the kids' room, smiling at the thought that Hoshiumi always seemed to be the perfect father to your kids.

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SIX

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: a high probability for swearing

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

     "LEONARDO, MICHELANGELO!" An eleven year old Y/N Robins called from her porch door, impatiently tapping a food bowl against the wooden frame she leant against. Behind her, the sun was setting and painted the sky a gorgeous array of pinks and oranges, sweeping together like watercolours. She looked out on the street impatiently, finding its sleeping state both calming and unnerving. Elm Street was never noisy, but after three years of living there, the girl had realised it wasn't a place of silence either.

And she was completely right. A distant, yet soft, meow grew ever closer, finally appearing around the side of a bush. Y/N grinned, affectionately calling out for the birman to go find his dinner, "C'mere Angelo, that's it boy!"

He trotted past her up into the house where his found his dinner waiting.

"Leo!" Her small voice called out as loud as it could into the cool evening air. He had wandered off earlier that same day to enjoy the Riverdale summer heat elsewhere, and the Robins family didn't think anything of it. Just as her mouth opened to call out the name again, Vegas came barrelling out from the door of the Andrews household, across the street to her side with Mary and Archie following.

The Andrews matriarch noticed the empty food bowl, "Is everything alright, Y/N/N?" She asked in her usual professional voice, but the girl knew from experience how much love and warmth it really held. Elodie told her about Leonardo's disappearance and how it wasn't uncommon in this kind of weather, but he could be getting a bit hungry.

Mary handed the dog leash to her son and sent him a secret wink, "Why don't you two walk Vegas together and see if you can find him?"

Excitement had been bubbling through the small town of Riverdale for weeks now anticipating the big Fourth of July celebrations ahead of them. Y/N Robins had planned on keeping up with her old tradition of sleeping in until late afternoon, then rolling out of bed in time to catch the fireworks with her friends. But with with the drunkenly asking Archie to be her boyfriend, which was not something she remembered a few hours later, her plans for this year were flipped on their head. So she found herself getting dressed to go talk things out with her supposedly best friend in a quiet spot next to sweet water river.

With her hair half tied up, and a black denim jacket over her shoulders, Y/N left through the door in her bedroom, and waited on the edge of the pavement until she heard a door across the street open and quietly shut. Any butterflies fluttering in her stomach all but disappeared as Archie turned around and smiled into the early morning sun towards her. It had been three days since they had last seen each other, since the girl confessed she didn't really know what she wanted in the space between them.

He jogged over road, asphalt kicking up under his new Nike trainers, and immediately engulfed Y/N's small frame into his own. The two teenagers walked all the way to the edge of Sweetwater River in the silvery silence of early birds and rustling leaves, their hands every now and again grazing each other and lacing together.

"So," The Andrews boy sighed as he lay against the warm grass, watching as she sat next to him and propped her head up on his chest, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Leo!" Y/N's melodic voice rang out across the long stretch of stream. Crystal clear water you could see the smoothness of the rocks which lay underneath if you peaked your head over the bank enough. For some unknown reason, the young cat would always find his way towards some kind of water, even back in Phoenix.

"Hello?" Archie bopped the girl on the tip of her nose as she returned back to reality, evidently not hearing what he'd just asked by the puzzled look her face adorned.

She hummed and gave him her full attention, allowing him to rephrase his previous words. In the back of her mind, Y/N knew exactly what she wanted- to leave high school and go on endless adventures with the boy her head lay upon. She wanted an easy life, away from the eerie little town she called home- to decorate her own house with pictures of smiles and candid memories. But most of all, in that perfect moment, she wanted herself to let go and fall in love with her childhood best friend.

After finding Prince Charming and finding out he was really the one from Shrek and not Cinderella, her faith in true love was shaken at the age of sixteen.

"I'm scared of you hurting me, or doing anything that could possibly hurt you, Arch." Y/N's voice faltered at her blunt honesty, "I meant everything I said, but I don't think I'm over what happened with Chuck last year."

"Tiger," Archie interrupted her thoughts, sitting up slightly leaning back on one hand and using the other to cup her face, "I can't promise we won't ever hurt each other even just a little bit, but whatever happens, we'll learn and grown from it together. I don't think I'll ever fully understand how much that bastard hurt you. But, nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, life is scary and I'll go through all of the shitty parts twenty three hours a day, if it means I get just one with you smiling up at me."

Half an hour of roaming up and down the river bank had passed before a twisting, nauseous feeling took over the pit of Y/N's stomach. She and her family adored their two fluffy boys, her dad would never admit it but they all heard the little 'goodnights' he'd whisper as he made his way up to bed finally. Though with her parents still working, and Y/S/N desperately needing to finish an assignment due tomorrow, the youngest Robins was the only one able to attend this search and rescue mission.

"What if he's -"

Vegas rubbed his nose against her shin in comfort.

"Y/N/N," A twelve year old Archie cut her off in his usual caring voice, "don't even let your mind go there. He's a little ninja cat he's probably off catching frogs or something."

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort and heading towards an unexplored area of the forest line. Truth be told, he was meant to be doing English homework with Betty Cooper right about now, but that had slipped his mind as soon as Y/N Robins adorably wonky smile found him across the road.

"Leo!" Y/N's sweet voice called out.

"Leonardo?" Archie followed with Vegas by his side.

"That's the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard." The girl admitted shyly, hiding her rose dusted cheeks by bringing Archie into a tight hug, her head resting in the crook of his neck while her long y/h/c hair tickled his face. It smelt of strawberries and mint in the morning breeze.

"Y/N/N, can I ask you something?" His voice sounded nervous, but as she looked up and nodded, his face held a smirk, "Will you stay my girlfriend?"

She answered with a small kiss, staring into his eyes innocently as her fingers traced his back under his thin t-shirt, about to lift the material from his body. But life had a funny way of throwing challenges their way, making them run before they could walk.

"I think I see him!" Archie handed the leash to his best friend, seeing a patch of grey in between the auburn autumn leaves. Vegas barked and tried to follow after his human, but Y/N managed to stop the Labrador from bounding away by distracting him with ear rubs. Wild growls and hisses could be heard as Archie wrestled the feisty long haired cat into his hoodie clad arms. Then Leonardo hissed so madly, the young boy almost dropped him, "Yep, definitely Leo."

Y/N ran over as fast as she could, dropping the lead as soon as she saw his pumpkin eyes and bare teeth, clearly not a fan of Archie. She grinned widely with glee and got to her tippy toes to kiss Archie's cheek. "You're a life saver!"

As soon as the fluffy animal felt Y/N's little hands rubbing his chin as she took him from the boy's arms, he switched into a completely different cat and started purring.

A gunshot sounded through the open clearing, and before a high pitched scream could escape from Y/N's mouth, Archie saw the terror in her eyes and pulled the petite girl behind him. He scaled the area, unable to see anything but birds fleeing from the unusual noise.

"We need to get out of here." The boy's gravely voice whispered with urgency, picking her up without hesitation and running until his lungs burnt and his trainers once again hit the comfort of tarmac.

"What the fuck was that?" Y/N screeched, her inquisitiveness telling to turn back, but thankfully common sense won that battle. She and Archie found themselves back on the pavement of Elm Street before they knew it.

"Y/N, we didn't see anything, it could've been a car backfiring a street away for all we know." Archie tried to rationalise, but in all honesty he was stuck to his core with dread.

"Right, or someone was just murdered and we could've been next on some psychopaths hit list." Y/N's dark mind shone through as she blurted out her inner monologue. The boy didn't have any words of wisdom, instead he lead her to his front door and brought her into his body. They stayed in their own little world for what could have been hours, thankful they had each other and not allowing themselves to think about what secrets Riverdale was really hiding under it's pretty exterior.

Nothing ever happened in the town with 'pep'.

Betty Cooper awoke early that Saturday morning, ready to get any assignments out of the way to enjoy the weekend ahead. She opened her curtains and tied her hair up into a ponytail, but as she looked out of her window at the beautiful blue skies, she watched in shock at the surprising scene unfolding in front of her. Y/N Robins up on her tippy toes, with Archie Andrews' hands wrapped around her waist as they kissed intensely in what the two thought was privacy.

PART SEVEN

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

[harrysweasleys]

the silence of the night // f.w

summary: for @wand3ringr0s3’s writing event!

prompts: “i knew it was too good to be true” x “i trusted you.”

warnings: angst, language, heartbreak, brief mentions of sex

word count: 3k

a/n: i am sorry for this. that is all. :) enjoy! xx

—

There’s a saying, an expression, that states that all things feel a thousand times worse in the silence of the night. 

That once the sun goes down, your problems feel amplified, as well as your emotions. That you could spend the night crying yourself to sleep, feeling like you’re at your lower possible point, but the next morning you could be feeling fine. Puffy eyed and exhausted, but your worries and stresses would feel like they had less of a grasp on your life.

The point is, things were worse at night.

And you felt it completely.

Your home was eerily silent, not a single noise being echoed or carried throughout the rooms. The only sign that there was a person in here was that the telly was on. Muted, but on. The bright, smiling face of the newscaster lit up the room that you were sitting in, huddled on the couch with a blanket secured around your shivering body. 

If this were seven months ago, you’d have Fred’s body next to yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you as the two of you laughed at a stupid film — which would usually result in the two of you falling asleep on the couch with your limbs tangled, if you were being honest. 

If this were five months ago, Fred would have told you he didn’t mind what film the two of you watched, as long as the two of you got to spend the evening together. You’d finish the film and head off to bed, no cuddling and zoning out on the couch, but wrapped comfortably in your shared bed with comfortable silence.

If this were two months ago, you’d be sitting on the couch flipping through channels aimlessly, Fred working on paperwork next to you, eyebrows furrowed and muttering a quick ‘hm’ each time you’d point out something comedic to him on the screen. You two would go to sleep at different times, each bidding the other good night with a quick peck and facing opposite ways, an invisible barrier between you two, dividing the space that used to be shared. 

If this were a month ago, you would be fast asleep on the couch, waiting up for Fred to come in through the front door. You’d wake up a few hours later, noticing his shoes and coat by the front door, and you’d walk into your room to sleep on the bed, Fred already rolled over and cocooned in his own blankets. You’d sigh, slightly defeated, and take your usual spot, the coldness of the sheets being a forceful reminder that things were different now.

But tonight, things were even worse. Like most days, Fred didn’t even come home. He’d stay at the flat above the shop so that when the morning came around and he needed to get back to work, he was already there. He used to send you a message, let you know that he wouldn’t be coming home that night and that you shouldn’t stay up and exhaust yourself over his arrival. But now, those messages had stopped.

There was a list of small things that had changed at first — how Fred would stop kissing your forehead during the night, how he stopped bringing home products for the two of you to goof around with — but those small things turned to major things. 

For example, the last time he told you he loved you was a week ago. And even then, it was a half-assed ‘love you’ that he muttered before scurrying off to bed without his usual good night kiss. 

Things like this swirled through your mind in the silence of the night. In the dark, empty rooms of a house once so filled with love, you swore it would burst. 

But now, it was just that. Silent.

And it hurt more than you’d care to admit.

So, for the ninth night in a row, you trudged off to bed by yourself; no warmth, no company, no light. Just silence.

——

Mentally, there is no proper way to prepare for saying the six words that no one ever wants to say in a relationship.

‘I think we should break up.’

How does one come across at saying it without it being mean? Without it being accusatory, as if you know the other person is in the wrong and you want to cut them off? That wasn’t the case at all — you loved Fred more than you thought you could handle. You often wondered if it was even possible to love someone this much?

He was your soulmate. If you believed in that sort of thing, of course. You always thought he’d be the person you’d spend your life with, the person you’d end up growing old with as the two of you laughed about fond memories from when you were kids.

—

“You ever think about what life’ll be like when we’re old?” you asked, a strand of hair twirled between your fingers as you sat comfortably under the shade of a large tree, the soothing water from the Black Lake lapping gently at your bare ankles as you sat comfortably in the grass.

“I do,” Fred grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I reckon we’ll grow to be very old. Together, of course, and we’ll have a big house in the country where we can experiment with fireworks.”

You giggled, leaning back to peer up at him, “As long as you don’t blow up the house, then I don’t see a problem.”

He let out a laugh, “Course not. I am very well educated on how to handle fireworks, darling. Besides, we’ll have the kids helping out too so I really don’t see a problem.”

“Kids?” you spluttered, sitting up so fast your vision went dark for a good moment, “You think we’ll have kids?”

His smile faltered for just a second before he regained his composure, “Unless you don’t want any, I’d like one. Or three.”

“Three?” you raised your eyebrows, “You really have high expectations for everything, don’t you?”

He beamed, leaning back against the chipping bark of the tree with his hands behind his head, “Always have and always will, love. It’s why we work out so well. Because you really do exceed all expectations.”

—

The rain was heavy, so there were less people bustling about in Diagon Alley than usual. You were partially thankful for it since it meant you could just barge right into Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and do what you had to do, no delays and no detours. But it also meant that there was no chance you’d run into an old friend and spark up a conversation, delaying the one that you dreaded doing more so than anything in the world.

The bright purple and orange shop came into view, cutting the breath directly out of your lungs and causing the tips of your fingers to shake. The lights inside were bright, contrasted to the dark evening skies that were clouded above you. You knew they were shutting down for the day, the large ‘closed’ sign on the door being the dead giveaway.

You approached it as quickly as you could, your coat dripping heavily on the front steps as you knocked loudly on the glass door. You hoped it would be loud enough for them to hear over the downpour, but your worries went away quickly as George’s grinning face appeared at the door.

“Y/N? Blimey, it’s horrid out there, come on in,” George unlocked the door and ushered you inside, not even beginning to complain about how you were dripping all over the wooden floors. You knew he’d be able to clean it up with magic, but you expected a bit of protest anyway.

“Hi, George,” you sighed, removing the hood off of your head and taking your jacket off, hanging it up on the tiny hook by the door. It wasn’t a coat hook, but at the moment, you’d use it as one. George didn’t oppose.

“Where’s Fred?” you asked, voice laced with a hint of urgency. You felt it shake as you spoke, worry and unease spreading through your body at lightning speed. Now that you were here, you couldn’t back out. Nor did you want to.

“Uh,” George scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “He went out for drinks with a few of the other employees. He left about an hour ago so he shouldn’t be long now.”

You grit your teeth, heart hammering wildly in your chest, “Mind if I sit here and wait for him?”

“Be my guest,” George muttered, his body standing there as he was if unsure of what to do. You couldn’t blame him. You knew you were coming off quite odd and uncertain, but you wished that George would just leave you be as you sad there pondering about how to bring up the conversation. 

He gave you a crooked smile, “I sense you want space so I’ll leave you be. G'night.”

“Thank you,” you gave him the best smile you could muster, “Good night, Georgie.”

He took off up the stairs, turning off a few lights on the way. You sat on the chair behind the counter, placing your hands in your lap and letting your eyes dart around the store, trying to find anything that could possibly distract you from the raging wave of emotions you were currently feeling. The store was dead silent, only a few lights that were left on and giving you the ability to see.

Here you were, once again. In the silent of the night — alone, waiting, and heartbroken. 

Though that solemn silence didn’t last long as the familiar ginger head appeared at the door, unlocking it as quietly as possible before he rushed inside, running a hand through his wet hair to keep it out of his face.

You didn’t alert him of your presence, choosing to sit back quietly and let him notice your presence by himself. It didn’t take long for him to do so, turning around and stopping in his step completely as his eyes locked on yours.

The eyes that you had fallen so desperately in love with, the eyes that you had gotten lost in more times than you care to admit.

—

“You have gold in your eyes, y’know?” you grinned, running your hand along his face down to his neck, “They’re really beautiful.”

He grinned at you, placing his hand over yours and kissing the back of your knuckles lightly, moving his body closer to yours under the comfortably warm blankets, his bare skin pressed against yours as he continued scooting as close to you as he could, “As are you.”

“You flatter me, Fred Weasley,” you put your head against his chest to hide your blush, “But there’s no way you can deny that you have the best eyes.”

He chuckled, lifting one of his hands to run through your slightly messy hair, “Well, if I have the best eyes, you have the best everything else.”

“Oh, come on, it doesn’t work that way,” you pulled away from him, your voice shaky due to laughter, “You have the best lips, for sure.”

“Nuh uh,” Fred protested, shifting his body so he was now hovering slightly above you, both of his hands on either side of your face as he held himself up, “You’re definitely the winner in that category, darling. And I know just how to prove it.”

He leaned down, connecting his impossibly soft lips to yours, rendering your mind blank as you reached up to run your hands down his bare back, muscles tight under your touch as he deepened the kiss. Shivers spread throughout your body and you began to lose yourself in him completely.

—

You shook your head, clearing your mind of the memory, and stood up, “Hi, Fred.”

“Y/N,” he said lowly, walking quickly across the shop to the point where he reached you in under three seconds, “What are you doing here?”

You could see the confusion laced in his face and it stung more than you’d ever admit. The fact that he didn’t know why his girlfriend was here to see him after nearly two days burned a hole right through your heart. It stung more than the fact that after forty eight hours apart, all he could do was ask why you were here. 

“We need to talk," you sighed, looking down at the ground and collecting your thoughts as best as you could before you faced him once more, “I think this—” you motioned between the two of you, “—I think that — wait, sorry, I knew that this was too good to be true.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

Fighting back a scoff, you waved your arms, “You can’t possibly tell me that you think this is going well, Fred. This is a train wreck. What happened?”

He took a deep breath, “I’m busy, Y/N. I’ve got work, I’ve got friends. I’ve got people other than you that require my attention too, you know?”

You ignored the burning feeling in your chest, “And I understand that. I know you have other things going on, I really do. But I am so sick of the distance. Of the fact that I wait up for hours, not even knowing if you’re coming home. That you don’t even bother letting me know if you’ll be in or not. That there’s this invisible wall between us that’s preventing us from going back to normal.”

The stinging sensation in the back of your throat and your eyes told you that tears had started to flow. You knew they would, but you hated the fact that they made you look so vulnerable.

“You’re seriously doing this?” Fred’s voice was small. Faint. More lost than you had ever heard it. In nearly six years of being together, you had barely ever fought or disagreed — the two of you were practically perfect. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever heard his voice sound like that.

“Fred, we can’t keep doing this to ourselves,” you breathed out, stepping closer to him, “You know, when we were young, we said we’d be together forever. And I really wanted that, believe me. You told me you’d love me forever and I trusted you because I felt the same. I thought you were it for me. But this isn’t what being in love is supposed to be like.”

His eyes met yours and you swore your lungs caved in on themselves. His eyes were watery and every inch of his face looked lost. His expression broke your heart all over again and you had to look away to prevent yourself from turning around and comforting him instead.

“I loved you more than anything, you know,” he said softly, coughing slightly to clear his throat, “Didn’t know why you picked a moronic git like me to go out with but I never complained. Always felt like the luckiest bloke at school.”

You stopped sniffling to listen to him as he continued.

“I genuinely thought you were my one. And I am so sorry that I haven’t been there. You’re right, this isn’t what love is supposed to be like. I didn’t want this to happen to us. I wanted us to stay, y’know, us.”

“I know,” you let out a small laugh, pulling a tissue out of your pocket to wipe at your eyes as you continued sniffing, “I wanted us to stay us too.”

You were nearly knocked off of your feet as Fred’s arms wrapped around you. His hug wasn’t like it usually was; bone crushing and tight. This time, it was soft and delicate — he knew it was the last time he’d be able to do this and the last thing he wanted was to break you more than you already were. Your heart connected to his, you could feel it pounding heavily under his sweater and you were nearly certain he could feel yours too. There’s no way he wouldn’t, considering how it was pounding so hard it was ripping itself to shreds. 

You pulled away after a good moment, trying your best to remember how it felt to be embraced by him, how he smelled, and what being in love with him felt like. Because you were still very much in love with Fred Weasley, and no matter what happens, you know that’ll never change.

“I guess I’ll be by tomorrow to get my stuff,” he muttered, his voice coarse but he didn’t bother clearing it this time, “You know I’ll always love you.”

You gave him a weak smile, your cheeks glistening under the dim lights due to the tears still freely coming, “And I’ll always love you too. I’m sorry.”

He was silent, not able to bring himself to say much else. You took one last look at him, his freckled cheeks, his messy hair, and the baggy sweater on his body that you remembered wearing countless times. Not able to continue reminiscing, you walked towards the door of the shop, grabbing your coat and putting it on as slowly as possible, wishing that you could run back to him, into his arms, and take off together.

But that wasn’t happening. Not today. 

“Goodbye, Freddie,” you said as you opened the door, not being able to look back at him. Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself as you took a deep gulp of fresh air, letting the door close loudly behind you. For fresh air, it was awfully suffocating. The air in the store was calling out to you, making you debate whether you should head back in.

But you shook your head and walked off of the front step.

The rain had stopped and the alley was dark. No bodies were running around and no lights were on. Though dark and quiet, nothing could match the hollow feeling that was etched into your chest. For your own sake, you wished that feeling was temporary, but at the moment it felt as if it would be permanent.

Because, after all, all things felt a thousand times worse in the silence of the night.

—

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[thenextchapter22]

Angel of the Three Realms

PART 7!!

Description: You were an Angel who went to the human world to escape punishment for loving Lucifer only to be brought back into his life, this time in the Devildom where you pretend to be human.

In this chapter: Everything is perfect, even with your love still a secret, and being home with everyone and flying is all you could ask for...

Tags: Unrequited Love, Fluff, Angst, WIP

Pairing(s): Lucifer/Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: Guys, this is the second to last chapter :( Thank you to all those who kept reading, I’m really happy you liked this work. Please enjoy~

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

_+_

You had the most magical time just simply being with the brothers. Not doing anything special, only talking in your room, tossing popcorn at each other and snuggling. They were always so warm, and you’d never turn away a hug.

But eventually they had to go to their own thing, so that left you some time alone. Mostly with your thoughts, which strayed here and there as you stretched on your bed. Thankfully they had put it back to the way it was before the spell to make it larger.

School was on temporary break per Lord Diavolo’s orders (and although he didn’t say it directly, you knew it was because of you, and he wanted you to have some time off).

There was a knock on the door again. But this time, someone else spoke out on the other side.

“May I come in?” Lucifer called out.

You stood up quick and straightened out your clothes, fixing your hair. It had a slight curl to it from Asmo’s braiding. Lucifer at your door was a rare thing indeed, plus you wanted to look presentable after having popcorn thrown at you.

Letting him inside, he glanced around at the slight mess that still remained. Stray blankets, the TV was still moved from its spot, and some chairs had been pushed away to make room for the larger bed that had been there.

He turned back to you, and said, “I had stopped by earlier, but heard you all having so much fun I didn’t want to ruin it all.”

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, you could have joined us, you know.”

He waved his gloved hand dismissively. “No, you needed time with them. They needed time with you.”

Biting your lip, you had to ask. “Did you… hear anything we said?”

His lips quirked a bit but he didn’t not smile. “If you’re referring to you speaking about Michael, then, yes, I happened to hear it.”

So you eavesdropped, you wanted to say, but instead you pushed that away. It probably wasn’t on purpose.

“I hope its okay I told them about Michael… I don’t want to keep any more secrets.”

“Of course, dove, I had planned on telling them myself.”

You shivered at the nickname that flew so easily from his lips, and nodded, your hair bouncing. “Good, I’m glad.”

You watched his gaze flicker to your shoulders before he sighed. “I don’t want to upset you but I feel like we should talk about everything that’s happened.”

“Oh! Uh, okay. Do you want to sit then?” you gestured to the table. “I can make us some tea really fast.”

He did sit, but shook his head. “The tea isn’t needed. Let’s just talk.”

Talking wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. But you did sit opposite him at the little brown wooden table, and crossed your ankles and folded your hands under your chin. “All right, shoot.”

He smirked. “So eloquent.”

You winked. “Always.”

Really, you just wanted to ease the tension in the room. It was too stuffy and a bit suffocating. You were nervous for his questioning, like he was a detective asking you, a criminal, if you had done the murder.

Lucifer didn’t look at you for a moment, instead stared at the table, tapping his fingers on the edge. Then he stopped, and looked up at you with intensity in those gorgeous eyes. “I can’t apologize enough for how stupid I was to not see you when you first came here. Despite the spell, even so.”

You frowned. “Oh, Luci—”

He kept going. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. I need to know. Why did you leave? What happened to make you leave?”

You knew the question would come. Still you were not prepared for it. “I just… it’s hard to say why. There were lots of reason.” Lies. Only one: him.

He always saw right through you. Narrowing eyes spoke of that. “You’re not being truthful with me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He paused. His tone seemed lighter next he spoke, “Did you at least have a happy life?”

That was just like the brothers’ question. “I did…mostly.”

“Hm. Tell me more. I want to hear about your life, what I missed.”

“You do?” you whispered.

“Of course. Unless you don’t want to tell me. You’ve changed so much since I last saw you.”

“In a good way, or bad?”

He chuckled. “A bit of both, I think.”

You smiled. “Okay.” You thought about everything you’d been through, and decided to start off with a high note. “There was a stretch of years where I lived in a small town by the sea. Everyone knew everyone, and there was kindness all around. My favorite thing to do was fly over the water in the moonlight. The ocean breeze and the smell of salt air was amazing.” You inhaled like you were there, and he gently reached out and brushed his fingers over your cheek. You held in a whimper. “I had to leave at one point, when the kids started to become adults and I stayed the same as I was.”

“That must’ve been difficult to do over and over. Establish relationships and then leave.”

You nodded, and sighed. “It had to be done…”

“I do have to wonder… why you didn’t become Human once your arrival on the surface world. You have no Halo but you do have wings, and celestial magic… It’s against all that Heaven stood for.”

You had wondered it yourself many times. But then you had other things to worry about, like your pretend human life. Evolving with them, learning and teaching, building relationship and ending them many times over. It was fun and fantastic and everything you never had dreamed of when you first left. So, only for a few short moments did you ponder that question Lucifer asked, and replied back.

“I did wonder but… I wouldn’t be able to find any answers. I had too much to do.”

Lucifer smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart clenched. “You—you are?”

“I am. You’ve done amazing things in your life. I couldn’t have wished for anything better. Losing all these years with you…” He frowned. “I will admit thinking about how much time I’ve spent here, with my memories of you gone… That I didn’t have the strength to break free.”

“You couldn’t have known,”

“While that’s true, I still hate it.”

“And so, now that I have you here with me, I will make the best of it. We will together.”

Together. Just not the way you wanted.

Perhaps, in time, maybe some years in the future, you would be brave enough to finally speak up. But right now wasn’t the best time. Or you could just be a true coward to your own feelings. You had a stray thought of ‘what it this was hurting Lucifer more than telling him would be?’

“I promise you, my dear, if I were to ever see Michael again…” And Lucifer’s forehead glowed where his black triangle usually lay, dark clouds forming the shape but not fully changing him. “…I’ll kill him.”

_+_

Life was back to normal. Only, it was better. Truth was out, and a freedom of the soul with it. You were truly able to be you, at least in the way you looked. Sure, your wings were still tucked away but you knew they weren’t a secret to be hidden away anymore.

The first day you were told you could fly again, you shot out of bed that very morning and, after breakfast, ran to the courtyard. It was a beautiful Devildom day, no clouds, not too hot or cold, and the winds were just right.

“She’s gonna fly! Everyone, come and see her wings!” Mammon shouted.

There was the sound of a stampede and before you knew it, the entirety of the House of Lamentation was there, and Purgatory Hall even somehow ended up.

You were very nervous. It had been months since you’d flown. But you knew it was going to be as easy as getting back on a bicycle as the humans say.

“Go on, dearie, we know you’re going to be beautiful. Spread your wings and fly~” Asmo shouted.

You grinned at him, and heard everyone else shout out words of encouragement. It was honestly really sweet. Luke was jumping up and down, waving his arms. He hadn’t gotten wings yet so he was super excited.

Satan didn’t have wings so he wasn’t as cheery, but he still gave you a soft smile and told you to go for it.

Then, lastly, you heard Lucifer speak. He wasn’t shouting like the others, but your focused hearing caught his words. “Fly, just as you used to: with passion.”

So with that, you changed, wings sprouting out like fireworks of white bursting open, and like a rocket you shot up into the sky. There was cheering and screaming, but as you went higher, soaring around the clear skies, you could only hear the wind rushing in your ears, and your heart pounding. The pure delight in flying never would leave you.

The sky wasn’t just yours for long. You looked to your left and saw Asmodeus’ bat wings flapping as he twirled in circles. He looked majestic, and you saw he had his hair pinned back with clips. He winked and flew a bit lower, and you laughed.

Mammon flew past you in a burst of speed, the back winds hitting you hard but you steadied yourself. “Hey, slow down!” you teased.

He stuck out his tongue from in front of you, and circled you once. “No way, you’re so slow,” he shouted with a stupid grin before speeding ahead.

You laughed at them. This was so much fun. You shut your eyes for a moment, feeling the wind in your face, rustling your hair. Your wings ached gloriously. The tickling of it against your feathers. It was pure magic.

“Always with your head in the clouds.”

You saw Lucifer then, full form, four wings dark and incredible behind him. His hair looked perfect in the wind, and he eased up next to your right and kept pace.

“I know,” you said with a smile. “I do my best thinking here.”

“Well, then, next time a test comes up, please go flying first.”

You laughed. “All right, but only if you come with me?”

He smiled. “Of course, dove.”

You hummed. You moved away a bit, and twirled once, giggling, and found his gaze softened. “Why did you call me that? You used to when I was younger, and you also did when I first came here. I don’t know why, when you were under that spell…”

He slowed his speed a bit until he stopped, and you had to circle back to meet him. The two of you thousands of feet above the Devildom ground, floating in the air.

“It’s quite the conundrum isn’t it?” He paused. “Memories don’t just vanish. These spells can’t remove a memory, only cloak it, and hide it away. So it’s always there, somewhere in your mind, waiting to resurface again.”

You frowned. He was sort of right. It was like when you worked as a temp nurse in a hospital, and the coma patients eventually got their memory back with time and patience.

Suddenly, Lucifer smiled at you, like a Morningstar of darkness. “I suppose a part of me just… couldn’t forget you.”

What? Your wings fumbled a bit in astonishment, and he reached out to grab at your upper arms. There was a large frown on his face and his brow was furrowed. “Steady. You’re stronger now but I think it’s time to head back down.”

You said nothing, only let him lead you both to the ground. Everyone gathered around and you were brought out of your head to them patting your arms and saying how amazing you were.

A part of you was still stuck on what just was said, but you pulled yourself together. “Thanks everyone! I want to fly with all of you soon.”

You looked at Satan, who was frowning. He sighed. So you walked to him and took his hand. He blushed. “The two of us can do something else, or if you want I can take you flying?”

He shook his head. “No thank you. I’m not a fan of… heights…” He smiled. “But I appreciate it.”

Belphie made a soft noise. “I want extra naps on your lap as compensation.”

You chuckled. “Easily done, Belphie.”

Levi frowned from beside Satan. “What about me?”

You took his hand next, to which he panicked externally and internally, and said the same thing to him.

Levi stuttered a bit, “W-w-well we can go swimming instead. I know a lake that’s perfect this time of year where you can rent tube floats nearby and there’s a really cool waterfall that makes rainbows.”

You nodded. “Sounds perfect. Speaking of water, I’m thirsty so I’m going to grab a drink.”

Leaving them behind, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, downed it, and exhaled. You placed your hands on the marble countertop and scrunched your nose while you thought.

‘a part of me just… couldn’t forget you.’

Did Lucifer love you? As more than a… friend? Was it possible? Those words seemed to have an underlying meaning to them, you were almost positive. Because if he did love you, he would say so, right? He was Pride, but wouldn’t love overcome that tenfold?

You laughed aloud, and shook your head. “I’m an idiot. Of course he doesn’t.”

Still, those words echoed in your head all day and night, even appearing in your dreams. Haunting or teasing, you were not sure.

But when you woke up to a new family, you shoved that part away. You had to put the past where it belonged: the past. You were home, Michael could not get you here, and you were safe to live your life as you chose. And you chose to live it to the fullest.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

The Splendor of These Exploding Skies (Yet All I See Is You)

Chuck Grant x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, drug use to combat PTSD (also y’all’re in California and weed just happens sometimes I’m sorry but it’s very true), light angst, light jealousy, fluff bc I’M FEELING LONELY AND COULD USE SOME CUDDLES, fireworks (both literal and metaphorical).

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Even after knowing and loving you for almost half a decade at this point, Chuck Grant still found himself in awe of how beautiful you were.

Despite the fact that for the first year at Toccoa the two of you hadn’t been able to stand being in each other’s presence for more than five minutes at a time- he still was able to acknowledge how attractive he found you. If anything, that awareness only added to his resentment of you and anything to do with you. 

You were too easy on the eyes to be as annoying as he found you. It just wasn’t fair.

In hindsight, he’d made a complete ass of himself during your first interaction- he’d been too drunk and too confident in his abilities to sweet talk women and too hyped up from his friend’s encouragement when he’d decided to make a move on you. Chuck couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said, but what he did remember was putting his hand on your ass and being slapped so hard his ears were left ringing for the next few days.

And, because he was young and cocky, he’d immediately labeled you as a prude and made it his mission to hate your guts. Even though he knew that he was in the wrong. Because that’s just how he was back then.

Had anyone asked Chuck then if he’d one day willingly share a home with you, let alone a bed, he probably would’ve punched them in the mouth. He imagined your response would’ve been similar.

My, how far the two of you had come.

Chuck leaned against the doorframe at the mouth of your bedroom, crossing his arms across his chest and smiling at the sight before him. As much as he knew that you got embarrassed by his open admiration, he still couldn’t find it within himself to curb this bad habit.

The vision of you at ease was a sight to behold- especially after seeing you on edge for years on end.

Right now, you were sprawled on top of the bed the two of you had bought a month ago, dressed in one of your old stretched-out t-shirts and thick-knit socks and a pair of black underpants that showed the cute divet where your buttcheek met your thigh (a part of you that you also scolded him for paying so much attention to). The window towards the foot of the bed was open and the cool air from the ocean delicately tossed the finer strands of your hair around your head, the lights of the city at night making each hair glow like some radiant halo.

All of the lights in the bedroom were off, the skyline illuminating the room in a warm blue cast that never failed to make him feel at ease. Your head was propped up on your hand as you gracefully brought your joint to your lips and took a deep drag, tapping the train of ash onto the clay plate you’d made at a pottery class sometime before the war. Purple grey smoke slipped through your parted lips attractively, and Cuck felt his chest ache at the knowledge that only he got to see you like this.

“Are you going to stand there like a creep all night, silly boy?”

When Chuck refocuses, he realizes that you can see his silhouette reflected in the window’s glass, and he can hear the teasing smile in your voice. Stubbing out the smoldering joint onto the plate, he watches you press yourself up onto your elbow and turn to look over your shoulder at him.

He bites back a smile of his own as he hits the light switch in the hallway so the room is entirely dark, closing the door softly behind him as he starts to toe off his shoes.

“Sorry, Dollface,” he says in faux seriousness, using the terrible pet name he’d called you the first night he’d met you. “Got distracted by the view…”

You snort a laugh at that, turning back to look out the window and shaking your head.

“Careful, buddy- my boyfriend’s got a mean right hook.”

He rolls his eyes despite the fact that he knows you can’t see it, stripping down to his shirt and boxers and coming to join you.

“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “I’ve heard you’ve got a nasty backhand as well.”

Using his hands to map out where your legs are, he carefully fits himself behind you like a familiar and comforting puzzle piece. While the side effects of his head injury were relatively minor compared to the severity of the wound, he still wasn’t always able to trust his eyes when it came to their depth perception. You didn’t seem to mind his way of accommodating this certain handicap. 

You weren’t shy to admit how much you liked his hands on you.

With the sort of ease that only comes from years of routine, you turn your head at just the right time for him to pluck a kiss from your lips, the taste of chocolate and cannabis on your lips. Chuck lets his legs tangle with yours as he rests on his elbow beside you, bringing his other hand up to cup the back of your head and keep your lips on his for a few moments longer. When you hum happily, he can’t help but smile.

He knows that today is difficult for you- the noise and the bright light and the cool bay breeze bringing back memories of foxholes and biting frost and heartbreaking exhaustion. You didn’t smoke weed often, even less now that you’d been out of the military for a few years, so he knew that when you did that you just wanted to not remember for a little while.

You wanted to forget the bad and go back to the days when these festivities brought you joy and wonder. Chuck got that. The desire to shut it all off and just live was too familiar to him.

And if you were willing to be there for him, he’d be damned if he didn’t do the same for you.

Pulling back, he lightly presses his fingers to the base of your skull, chuckling warmly when you nearly moan in relief.

“Hey there.”

You slowly open your eyes at his greeting, gaze open and slightly lethargic.

“Hey yourself,” you say with a sigh. “I missed you today.”

Chuck knew what you meant. After living together day in and day out for so long, coming home and establishing lives and routines of your own had initially been difficult. He’d felt bad about leaving you this morning, knowing how difficult this day in particular was for you.

“Such a sap.”

Your easy expression twists into a comical scowl, your eyes rolling as you turn back to the window and make a sound of annoyance.

“Of all the idiots who propositioned me, I had to go and pick the most obnoxious—”

Chuck freezes at that, furrowing his brow in surprise and using the hand on the back of your head to gently fist a handful of your hair and turn you back to face him. 

‘I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

Your eyes scan his face before a slow smile breaks across your lips, clicking your tongue admonishingly at whatever it was that you saw.

“Charles Grant, as I live and breathe,” your voice has taken on a wicked quality, one that he both loves and hates at the same time. “Is that jealousy I detect?”

He frowns at that, hating how well you can read him- even in your slightly intoxicated state.

When he doesn’t reply right away, you purposefully lift your backside and press it against his stirring cock. God, you knew how to irritate him- you could be such a brat sometimes.

Luckily, he had learned long ago the most effective way of curbing your obnoxious provocations. 

Tightening his grip on your hair infinitesimally, you let him crane your head back and hiss quietly at the sweet sting of it.

“Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were trying to make me jealous.”

You smirk, wetting your lips before rolling your hips against him once again.

“Me? I’m just being honest- you can’t truly think you were the only one to make a move….shoot your shot, if you will….”

Chuck feels heat curl in his stomach, shaking his head at your insinuation. When he angles your head to bite at the lobe of your ear, you tremble beneath him with excitement- your antagonizing behavior had become a strange turn on somewhere between Alderborne and Normandy.

“Who?” 

You said nothing, your breath hitching in your throat as you feel the press of him against your backside. You knew how much he hated when you did that- knew how frustrated your silence made him. It’d been your silence that had led him to kiss you for the first time- the arrogant way you’d held your tongue to his baiting teases driving him so crazy he was willing to risk your wrath just to get a response from you.

With an angry sigh, he fixes you with a glare.

 “Fine. Don’t tell me. I know how to get what I want out of that pretty mouth.”

Chuck swears he sees a self-satisfied glint in your eye, but before you can revel in your mirth he pulls away from you and makes you whine.

“Chuck, don’t go—oh!”

The feeling of his hands gripping your ass tears a gasp from your throat, your head bowing into the mattress as he grips your hips and pulls them up so he can reach beneath you and squeeze your sex possessively. As expected, you’re wet and warm for him- a confirmation of your desire for more.

His name sounds sweet on your tongue, your voice muffled in the soft down of the comforter as you arch into his touch. Chuck’s mouth waters at the sight of your shirt’s hem sliding up your spine and revealing the bare skin of your back to him, and he doesn’t hesitate to press hot kisses to the newly revealed skin by your hip bones.

“How about this, Sweetheart?” he asks innocently, using the hand not rubbing at your sex to yank your underwear down your thighs. “I’ll give you a name, and you tell me if they were stupid enough to try something with you, hm?”

 Your groan is unintelligible and unclear but when he looks down the slope of your back he sees you nodding vehemently.

God, you were perfect. 

Using his index and ring finger, he holds open the petals of your sex and begins to play with your clit.

“Luz?”

Even with your face in the blanket, he can make out your scoff of ‘no’. Good. he hadn’t thought so, but it still made him glad to hear it.

“Shifty?”

One of your hands swats at his thigh, and you turn your face so you can make your words clear.

“Charles, you were there when Shifty accidentally saw me changing- what do you think?”

Chuck chuckles at the memory of that- the poor kid had been so embarrassed that he’d nearly run into a wall in his attempt to escape the ‘improper sight’.

When you open your mouth to say something else, CHuck smacks your ass and your words are lost in a yelp of surprise.

“Chuck—”

“Bull?”

“No. Obviously no, geez…”

He goes through the roster of Easy Company, getting the obvious ‘no’s out of the way: Buck, Winters, Sink, Strayer, Sobel, Blithe, Lipton, Speirs, Welsh. With each negative response, he lets you roll yourself against his hand- the sight of you so desperate for him working him up so high that he knew he was going to have to get inside of you soon.

The first ‘yes’ you gave was for Talbert, which earned you a bite on the curve of your buttcheek despite the fact that Chuck had already figured as much. Same went for Christenson- which he’d known already because he and Pat had first bonded over the fact that you’d rejected both of their advances.

Then came the first surprise- Nixon.

“What?! Are you serious? Lewis Nixon?”

“Does that piss you off, Silly Boy?”

Your tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in your voice that catches him off guard.

It did, actually- piss him off, that is. Chuck didn’t want to think too hard about why.

Not when this little game of yours just started to get interesting.

With another resounding smack to your backside, Chuck grips himself in his fest and coats his cock with the slick from your sex that had soaked his fingers. The idea of you with someone like Nix simultaneously inspired rage and pride in his chest- anger at the concept of a married man, your SO, looking at you in a way that was less than professional and pride at the fact that you’d still chosen him despite Nix’s advances.

“Chuck,”

When he looks back at you, he sees that you’re looking over your shoulder at him with desperation, your face flushed with arousal and subsequent denial.

“I want you, please don’t make me wait anymore…”

Well, he never had been very good at making you wait. 

The sound you make when he slips inside of you almost has him bursting right then and there- the sound so broken and full of want and lewd promise that it almost hurts him to hold himself back. Your hand has reached up and behind your head to grip his hair, pulling him down and over you in a haunting pantomime of how he’d covered you from enemy fire in the hellish woods outside of Foy.

You’re chanting his name like a prayer, babbling as you slip into a state of carnal bliss. When he kisses you it’s desperate and messy but you are still craning your head back at an angle that must be painful in order to continue it.

All jealousy takes a back seat to the feeling of this- your skin under his hands and your breath on his lips and the squeeze of you around him. It doesn’t matter, none of those other men and their understandable attraction to you matters because you are undeniably his. 

You chose him- you chose him when he was the picture of health and when he was nearly dead on an operating table. You’d held his hand as he healed and you’d taken him as your husband in a shelled out Austrian church with a priest and Ron Speirs and God as your witnesses. 

You were his, and that was all because you wanted to be.

His throat feels tight with emotion as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades as you cry for more- taking each rough rut of his hips into yours with a beautiful moan and a challenge for another.

Sex with you was more than a physical release, it’s a renewal of unspoken vows of devotion and dedication despite the knowledge that neither of you had escaped your war unscathed. His promise that he’d be yours each and every night when the horrors of memory plagued your dreams, and your reassurance that you saw him for more than his experiences, his trauma.

It was more than he ever could have hoped for in this life. Pre and post war.

Your chest vibrates beneath his, and when he is finally able to refocus he realizes that you’ve been trying to talk to him.

“Look!”

The fireworks show has begun, the bursts of light looking magical and surreal over the glass surface of the bay. It’s beautiful, and he knows that despite your fear of the sound of explosives you cannot help but find yourself entranced by its splendor as well.

Chuck turns his face so he can see the reflection of your face in the mirror, the fireworks making the drawn pleasure on your face clear and coloring you in its brilliance.

When he makes you come apart beneath him, you’re awash in purple light and infinitely more glorious than the celebration outside. The bite of your nails into the meat of his thigh sends him tumbling into pleasure right behind you, and when he squeezes his eyes shut he feels like a firework himself- hot and infinite and sparkling in the cold air coming through the open window.

Your body is quaking beneath him, the electricity of your orgasm still dancing through you and making you clench around him painfully every so often.

Blind from his own pleasure, Chuck moves his hands up your sides to get a feel for where you are, repositioning his weight so he isn’t crushing you with his boneless body. The boom of the next firework shakes through his chest, and as he feels you coming down he smooths your hair from your face clumsily.

“You married me.” his voice sounds far away, his mind just as lost as he reminds himself of the most important part of his life. “You married me and you make me happier than I can say.”

The feeling of your lips kissing his palm has him opening his hazy eyes to take in your state of disarray. You were looking at him with more love than he had ever thought to wish for, and when you nod it brings tears to his eyes.

“Happy Fourth of July, Chuck Grant.”

Lifting his gaze, he looks back out of the window, where the firework show is coming to an end and soon the two of you will be left with the warm blue light once more.

You were right. This was a happy Fourth of July.

~ ~ ~

THIS IS JUST OKAY AND I UNDERSTAND THAT BUT THANK YOU FOR READING IT ANYWAY! 

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @teenmagazines​ @liebgotttme​

[chiefladylightyay]

Frostbyte Week 2021 Day 7: Atlas Ball

It is August first here, which means it's @frostbyte-week day 7! Yaaay! Which also means I am legally allowed to post my single solitary contribution! Yay?

The Atlas Ball, the most prestigious event amongst the Atlo-Mantelian nobility, had been held every summer (barring the fourteen year gap of the Great War and the Reconstruction) for the past nine hundred and eight years.

This year, it would be the eight hundred and ninety-fourth such Ball, and Weiss von Schnee’s last Ball before she were to leave for Beacon Academy in the Republic of Vale. Wearing a slim, shimmering silver dress with a long slit up one thigh, she cut a striking and alluring figure. She could have had almost any partner that night, but Weiss only intended to dance with a single person for the entire night: Her secret (to everyone who was not family of either party) girlfriend, Penny Polendina.

The cute redheaded daughter of Doctor Pietro Polendina had captured Weiss’s heart from the moment they met seven years ago immediately after Weiss’s very first performance as a singer.

Which begged the question: where exactly was the cute little dolt? Scanning the crowd for what felt like the fifth time that evening, she could see neither the good doctor nor her girlfriend... Were they not coming this year? No, someone would have told her if they were not coming. She just had to be patient, Penny would show. And then they would dance and it would all be perfect.

“Penny not here yet?” the voice of her younger brother Whitley brought Weiss out of her idle fretting. Taking a sip of her champagne she shook her head. “No, and at this rate I am starting to worry just a little...” again she scanned the crowd, noting with amusement Winter barely holding back May Marigold, seems someone had made a derogatory comment in her presence. Again.

Giving Weiss a hug Whitley said “She’ll be here, if this had been a regular Ball she might have skipped, but this is your final Ball before you leave for Beacon. She knows you’ll want tonight to be special.” Weiss smiled gratefully and returned the hug. “You’re right, again. What would I ever do without you, Whitley?”

Whitley smirked in response, taking a sip of his own (non-alcoholic) champagne Whitley responded “Oh, dearest sister, you would be an absolute mess without me, and we both know it. Oh, look, here comes mother! Perhaps she has seen your Penny?” gesturing with his glass towards their approaching mother Whitley stepped back with a smile. “She is her Own Penny!” Weiss snarked in response before turning towards Willow.

The matriarch of the von Schnee family smiled at her two youngest children, gently stroking Whitley’s cheek before letting him continue mingling. “Weiss dear, what has you so down in the dumps, as they say? Is it Penny?” Willow asked with a smile, which Weiss returned. “Yes, mother... Penny isn’t here yet. Do you know anything?” she asked hesitantly, a touch of worry seeping into her voice.

“Yes, Klein informed me they’ll be a little late, vehicle trouble, I think he said.” Willow responded, gently stroking Weiss’s cheek. “Another ten minutes, I’d think. Then you can have your perfect night.” Weiss smiled gratefully, leaning into Willow’s touch she said “Thank you, mother, for informing me.”

The touching family moment was cut tragically short when Willow was called away by some other noble, whose name completely escaped Weiss. Sipping her champagne in annoyance at the loss of her mothers warm hands she resumed her vigil, politely but firmly turning down requests for a dance. Honestly, Henri Marigold XXIII should know better by now, she’d turned him down every year!

“One day, Schnee! One day you will agree to one single solitary dance with me!” He exclaimed quite loudly, shaking his fist in mock anger.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. And even if it were true, it is not this day!” Weiss said with a smirk in response, already turning away to scan the crowd.

There! That’s Doctor Polendina! Now where is- “Salutations, Weiss!” The voice of her most beloved person sounded behind her and when she whirled around there she was, Penny Polendina. Weiss’s shining light in the darkness.

Dressed in a smart, dark green suit and matching tie that did dangerous things to Weiss, her hair done up in an elegant waterfall braid, makeup reserved but tasteful and on point, Penny Polendina truly was the most beautiful girl of all that lovely evening. If you asked Weiss, that is. And you really should.

“Good evening, Penny. You- You look very lovely, quite dashing one might say.” Weiss said, shyly tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, as she smiled at her girlfriend “Would you d-” “Weiss, would you honor me with a dance tonight?” Penny asked, completely bowling over Weiss’s awkwardness.

“Why, yes, Penny. I would love to dance with you tonight. In fact, I have saved myself just for you.” Weiss said with a smile, holding out her hand for Penny to lead her to the dance floor, weaving between the other pairs.

If Weiss had bothered to look, she could have seen any number of noteworthy pairs dancing around them. But as it stood, she had eyes for Penny and Penny alone.

“Are you ready, Weiss?” Penny asked, taking hold of Weiss’s hand “Yes, Penny. I am as you would say, Dance Ready.” Weiss responded with a smile, a smile which Penny mirrored though Weiss thought Penny’s smile was even brighter than her own. Penny, of course would refute that statement. Casually, Weiss whispered “Next time we dance, you will be the one wearing a dress.” laughing gently at the luminescent blush adorning Penny’s cheeks.

Then the music for the next dance started up, a simple waltz, and nothing else mattered. As far as the two of them were concerned, they were the only people in the entire world, the other dancers fading away into the background.

One dance became two, became three, became four, but neither Penny nor Weiss noticed. They were in their own little world of love. But all good things must come to an end, even so a perfect evening of dancing.

“Weiss? Would you accompany me out onto the balcony, please? I have something to ask you.” Penny said, gently squeezing Weiss’s hand in her own. “Ah? Oh! Yes, certainly Penny.” Weiss blinked away her dozy contentment, squeezing Penny back, following her out onto the balcony. But not before drive-by swiping another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and thanking said waiter. It never hurts to be polite to your staff.

The air outside was cool, the stars bright and the shattered moon... Well, shattered.

Gently sipping her champagne Weiss looked at the twinkling starts, wondering idly what Penny could be wanting to ask her.

“It is beautiful, is it not? Just like you, Weiss.” Penny said, also looking up at the stars

“Well, not as beautiful as you. Truly, we’re all blessed by Skie tonight. You most of all.” Weiss said in response, smirking slightly when she saw Penny blush once more.

A companionable silence descended over the lovely pair, Weiss observing the night sky, Penny idly fumbling with something in her pocket...

“Weiss?” Penny’s voice brought her out of her idle musing about the stars and back to the present “Yes, Penny?” Turning slightly to the side she saw Penny down on one knee, tiny black velvet box opened to reveal a ring in her hand. With a gasp, Weiss dropped her champagne glass, her hands flying up to her mouth “Weiss von Schnee, would you do me the honors of-” Furiously nodding, tears of happiness in her eyes, Weiss said “Yes, a thousand- a million times yes! Of course I will marry you! Oh, Penny, you make me so happy.”

And so, under the starlit skies of Solitas, when the very first of the fireworks started, Penny Polendina slipped the ring onto Weiss von Schnee’s finger and the loving couple shared a kiss beneath the shattered moon the likes of which the world had not seen in... Quite a while.

THE END!

[passivenovember]

@liglitterbug asked: 

Has anyone asked for 53? (crawling through your window to go get ice cream) yet? Because that screams Harringrove to me and I would LOVE to see your take on it, please! (if you have time/inspiration) <3

a Friend for the End of the World.

Billy’s, like. Halfway through Little Women when Max knocks on his door, and. Okay. It’s not like he slammed his way through the house with a fire itching under his skin and believed for even a second, that.

The world could be his. Just for while. 

He settles roughly, at first, into the Alcott novel. Like a brick hitting the bottom of the sea--slowly, heavy and thick with the inertia of words that ignite something that feels.

Pink.

Inside his belly. Billy doesn’t have the wherewithal to make sense of it so he, just. Clamps his eyebrows around the liquid sunshine in his veins and loses himself in the story. 

After Starcourt the world ends, but. 

It doesn’t sound like the poems said it would. The bang and the whimper and the conclusion that, after things catch on fire and smoke rises with the sun, silence will fall over the Earth. 

Billy remembers waiting for Hawkins to sleep.

Watching Max and Mrs. Byers and. Steve. Landslide all around them to fix what had been swept away by a misjudgment in the Earth’s ability to keep itself from cracking open.

And Billy, he feels like an exposed wire. The center of the universe molding itself around the breath before the curtain falls and the audience leaves, and.

He waits for night to fall.

It never does. The overture is played out of tune, again and again, and the world turns faster than before, the sounds leak from everywhere. All at once, and.

Billy feels. Doesn’t know how to... 

It’s never as simple as asking for silence. For peace. When his mind makes too much noise, or. When he can’t get the sound of Neil coughing up smoke to stop bouncing off the walls. 

The ambiance that comes with. Sharing space, sharing your life with someone, used to be Billy’s favorite in all the world. Back when the incandescence of his mother folding laundry could be heard through the crack in his door while pirate ships bled past the boundary of the page and took him somewhere new. 

Billy likes to think of his life as intermissions between lovers. Before Starcourt he was asleep and now. He’s never waking up again.

Max reading to El, or.

Susan making dinner.

Even Neil flipping through the channels, it. Reminds him of burning cities.

Billy wears earmuffs. Everywhere. The ones that block out the sounds of the earth crying, but. Do nothing at all for the reprise burying itself in his bones. 

Steve brought them to the hospital when Billy wouldn’t stop asking about the end of the world.

So Max knocks on the door. 

And Billy thought he made himself clear. With the nonverbal shit, like. Slamming the front door open and brushing past the dinner table and slamming his door shut.

Locking himself in. He thought it was crystal clear, that. You can’t keep shoveling dirt into the grave without stopping to pray for rain. She pounds on the door again but it’s too loud. Always too much.

“What, Max?” And his voice is softer, these days. To balance out the symphony playing all around him.

“Steve’s here.” She says, and.

The earmuffs don’t actually block anything out. Billy can hear the battery die in the car down the street, and. He can hear Max shuffling on the other side of the door one-two-three, one-two-one, like a waltz. A tiny dancer. 

She has the most. Distinct footprints in the sand. Billy held onto that when he was bleeding on the floor. 

He pads over to the door and tugs it open, wincing at the sharp sting of. 

Soundsoundsound

Hammering against the walls in his head. Billy squints, shielding his eyes. To block the noise as if it were rain. 

“Tell him I’m not home.”

“Your car’s in the driveway, dumb dumb.”

“Well, tell him I’m busy.” Billy moves to close the door, but. Max sticks her foot in the jam. 

Folds her arms and gives him this look, like. He’s supposed to have a big realization about something. About the way he’s acting. Hiding in his room all the time with the blinds pulled taught against the sun. 

You’re acting weird.

He knows. He thinks it’s okay.

Billy shrugs like. Spit it the fuck out. And Max rolls her eyes. Billy can hear the shift of muscle, he can--

“Too busy to see Steve?” She says.

And okay. 

Billy picks up on why that might be weird. He shrugs again--there’s a throbbing, like. The beat of a drum. Just outside, on the lawn, or right at the back of his skull. 

Billy can’t tell and he doesn’t want to know, so.

The door falls shut once more. 

--

Being with Steve is like getting the instruments to play a song instead of just. Wailing out of tune for the audience to throw tomatoes.

He makes everything quiet. Just by running his fingers through Billy’s hair the world is made new. Starts over with a whimper instead of the rest, but. 

Sometimes Billy can’t breathe. 

Or his eyes will close when they’re wide open, and he can’t see anything but snow twirling against a gray sky, or like.

Veins turning black and smoky with rot. Disease and Ice. Barren fields the end-- 

Steve says the Earth has healed itself once more. That the cracks have been mended, and the ground isn’t coming apart under their feet.

So it’s summer.

That’s what Steve says. “It’s summer, baby.” let’s go to the lake. 

Billy looks up from his book. Fifty pages left in Little Women--at least an entire afternoon, once he picks up the second, and. “You want to go to the lake?”

Steve sort of. Rolls onto his side, next to Billy on the quilt Mrs. Harrington made when he was in the hospital. He looks up to the sky, the clouds and the sun. 

Steve has a daisy between his fingers. Billy doesn’t know where it came from, but then Steve is smiling. All soft, like. A stretch of grass just before sunset. He sticks the daisy between the pages of Billy’s book, and. Closes it., takes it away. He sits criss-cross-applesauce until his knees are pressed against Billy’s leg. 

Steve tugs the headphones off, so. 

The sun hits Billy. Burns every part of him. 

“You seem like you need water.” Steve says.

And he is the only person who makes the Earth contract, So Billy tucks his hair behind his ears with shaky fingers. Keeps his hands there, holding his own face until things quiet down. 

He breathes in, sharp and then slow, when the tears start to fall. When Steve reminds him to be gentle with yourself, baby. That’s it.

It takes five minutes for Billy to figure it out.

He needs water, like. A flower whose roots have gone frail. Or a boy who longs for home. Billy opens his eyes to Steve watching him, counting breaths on the watch he had made special.

For Billy, and his.

Bullshit. The panic attacks and the sensory bullshit, and. It’s summer. Billy feels the air get choked from his lungs when Steve takes his pulse, because.

“You go.” He whispers. 

Steve looks up from the watch and then back down again. “You still have ten more breaths, come on.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ten more big ones, okay. Just to be safe.”

“Steve, I’m fine.” Billy smacks the watch down. Away, so. He can. Think. Billy scrubs at his face just the wrong side of too hard. Too abrasive, and there’s a drum beating somewhere down the hill when Steve tries to grab his wrist. 

Again, to. Play nurse Maid. Steve kisses his palm once--twice, and.

“It’s summer.” Billy says. 

Steve winks. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

It. Is, Billy thinks. With the smell of Lilac and Honeysuckle. Afternoons that give way to skies full of fireflies and Steve’s hair turning blonde in the afternoon light, it looks. Like a work art, like. A page from a book. 

His favorite in all the world. Billy tugs his hand away from Steve’s lips, tucks his hair behind his ears again, and. Steve looks worried.

Always worried, like. He’s waiting Billy will snap in two. 

“I want you to go to the lake.” He says. Because he’s tired of seeing that look.

Steve blinks wide, owlish eyes at him. “I want us to go, Bills, that’s why--”

Billy shakes his head. Suddenly the drum falls. Silent. Steve sits frozen, suspended in time and space while the symphonies play out of tune. 

“You aren’t my doctor.” Billy says.

“I know--”

“And you aren’t my therapist.”

He expects Steve to. Say something, or stop looking like the ground is splitting open between them, when Billy charges on.

“Or my housekeeper, or any of that shit, Steve. You’re. A twenty year old boy, you should be. Out with your friends for the fourth of July not taking care of your invalid partner who can’t make it through the day without breaking down in tears.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else.” Steve says, and.

It means now. And it means always.

Billy stands to grab his book. 

--

He leaves his earmuffs on the blanket in the grass. 

Thinks about calling and. Begging Steve to bring them over, drop them off because his head is spiraling rock formations and earthquakes let loose in the heartland. 

After dinner it hurts.

When the fireworks start to explode. Bright light and heat burning a wound into his chest, or a breaking his bones to crumbling dust. Each explosion is like child birth and pulled teeth and gunshot wounds playing a libretto behind his right eyebrow. He tries to read but the snow falls all around him--

“Hey dipshit, we’re going to watch the--” 

Billy doesn’t try to hide the tears, and.

Max doesn’t bring them up. She presses an ice pack to his forehead and wonders if. She should call Steve. Call him home.

Billy wants to say yes.

Wants to call Steve himself, but. “Go have fun, kid.” 

And the wound only grows.

--

He has four pillows on his head when the window slides open. That’s why he doesn’t hear the scattered footfall until there’s a weight on his bed, and a pair of hands rubbing his back.

One hot, one cold. 

He frowns. “Hands are cold as dick.”

Steve chuckles, fingers digging into the muscle of Billy’s neck in a way that has him soft. Huffing against the sheets. “Sorry, I brought Ice cream.”

Billy peeks out from under his fortress to Steve peppering kisses along the base of his skull.

“What time is it?” He grumbles. 

“8:30. Go to sleep.” Steve muffles against Billy’s hair, and.

“How come you’re here?” 

Steve holds out the earmuffs, cherub face scruffy and apologetic and so, so beautiful. “Sorry it took so long, I wanted to give you space, you seemed like. You needed space.” 

He pulls the blanket up around Billy’s shoulders, even as he worms around to sit up. Get a better look, and. Apologize. 

“Look, Stevie--”

“You shouldn’t be sitting with a migraine like that,” He says firmly. “Doc says three glasses of water, two Tylenol, and--”

“Rest, yeah, I.” Billy feels like smiling. For the first time in days, he. Wants to smile. “Thank you.”

Steve nods. Like he’s disappointed. Eyebrows wrinkling as he fiddles with the cracked leather headband. 

Billy looks at the pint of cherry crunch leaking a puddle onto the mattress. “So you brought ice cream, huh?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. What else do you bring after a break up?”

And.

Billy feels like shit. “Steve I didn’t mean that--”

“I know.” He says. Soft, like a confession. “I’ll always dream of you, you know that?” Billy’s heart kicks into overdrive when Steve leans forward, slipping the earmuffs against his head, and.

Putting the world to sleep.

[madmadmilk]

One After The One PART 1 | Tom Holland x Reader

Tinder BIO | soft TEASER | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | >>

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: What does one in a million even mean? Does it mean you’re the first of many or the fucking last? Does it mean that you’re somewhere in the middle? And what happens to the poor baby who ends up being the 999,999th one? Or worse, the one after The One? There ought to be some kind of prize for second to last, and second runner up. Especially when being #2 is your specific talent.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6.7K swipes left

Special Shoutout: Thank you @hypnotized-so-mesmerized for being a BETA for this chapter and for you lovely input!

-

“I can’t fucking believe you’ve got me fifth wheeling for this….” you sigh, as you blow strands of your hair away from your face. You walk briskly atop of the shifting sand behind your leggy friend.

All 5 foot 10 inches of her shakes with laughter as she watches you trip over yourself. She shrugs, “The more the merrier?”

You roll your eyes, resigning to a smile as she waves back for your hand to hold. You reach out and accept her offer loosely, allowing yourself to be pulled along.

“Come on, the boys are waiting.”

Right.

You watch the festival lights cast a warm glow at the edges of her silhouette. She smiles at you, bronzed, beautiful–– taken.

Over the past year, all your best friends started fucking dating each other.

Leaving you single, alone, and second best.

It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t unnatural–– but it quite literally happened over night. “This” is just your “new normal.”

You all still hung out, together, mismatched or separately. Nothing has stopped them from asking you to hang out, but there are times where you feel… The Line.

It was Common Sense tingling and telling you that certain occasions were more of a ���date-night” rather than friendly get together. And the last thing you wanted to be was a cockblock to your own goddamn friends.

Like tonight, you were tagging along to the late-night-end-of-the-summer beach bar hop bash, with your two pairs of your closest friends. Sam and Ry, short for Ryan. And Liza and K, short for Erik.

Then there’s you, of course.

The three boys were waiting with drinks in hand, while you and Liza took your sweet time climbing the sandy stairs. This was the usual ritual, but you stood alone when you reached the guys. They paired off, easily, naturally, sweetly.

The vibrating radio-centric music drowned out the sounds of the lapping ocean, the conversation you walked into was near unintelligible, and the crowd was excited about something.

God, I wish that were me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with going to this year’s beach bash, as you go to it as a group every year–– it’s just that this time they were holding hands and you were holding a drink. It’s more sour than you’d like.

You were fine coming out “alone,” but who wants to be alone?

You greet one another with warm hugs and Liza immediately dives into a rant about officially moving in with K, and about how he doesn’t wanna mix his laundry with hers–– all those new domestic nuances. 

Sam rolls his eyes and exclaims, “Ry is the same fucking way–– like, it’s just cloth, babe.”

“Easy for you to say when all you wear is black––“ Ry retorts, pushing his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

Everyone starts with a snickering laugh, clinking beer bottles and recanting similar experiences.

Tonight you just don’t feel like it.

Living alone and sleeping alone is one of your specific talents. It’s been nice to have your own fucking bed, your own fucking room, your own fucking space–– all of it to just BE your own fucking self, by your fucking self. You’ve been this way for twenty-odd years now (kind of, you know what i mean). Love and friends are welcome to hang out, but at the end of the day, the place is all yours. And yours alone. That’s what home means to you.

“–– But living together hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be,” Liza smacks her lips, looking down in short embarrassment. She leans back against K, “There are good things too.”

Sam is quick to point out their PDA, and you take another sip of your drink. You would have spoken up to contribute about your own experiences, once upon a time. But that’s a sore topic you’re not willing to relive on this breezy night.

Instead, you laugh along, crossing your arms while propping your elbow on the bar. You’ll let tonight be as rosy as it can be with no time to dwell. Your drink is near empty, consumed faster than you remember. Someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You blink dryly, resurfacing. “Hm?”

K is rubbing the side of your arm, those hazel eyes darkened in the low light. His dark brows were raised high, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” you answer easily. You hold up your drink, making a smug face and down it to his bemusement. You shake the empty bottle, setting it back on the table. “Always good.”

He nods slowly, looking over at the other three still gossiping amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you can only imagining Sam and Liza were poking at each other by the way that Ry was smiling.

K swings his head back to you, “Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

And you follow him, aware that, no, he didn’t want to dance. He wanted to talk.

You walk away with him, unnoticed by the others and tracing your finger across a brick wall. He stops, leaning against it and you do too. Looking over him, neat clothes and nervous face, you raise a brow.

“Sorry––“ he starts slowly, scratching the back of his neck.

“For what?” You laugh, scrunching your brows as you nod your head to the muffled music.

“This. It’s weird, right? Us. All of us, dating. That last year we were the ones single and you were––“ he sighs, pulling his lip to the side, “Last year was totally different. And now we’re all here, still together. Together-together.”

“Mhm, it was going to happen sooner or later,” you muse. K has loved Liza since Day One. And you and him have both known it, and what it means to him now. His dreams become reality every second that passes.

“Shut up,” he swats at your arm. You see the curl of his smile behind the embarrassment, “Nah. No. But this must be awkward for you, huh?”

You shrug. “Little bit. I’ll get over it, you guys are still my friends.”

His eyes search yours for the real truth. They were all so worried that them coupling up would ruin something, between themselves and with you. Ha. You told they they were stupid for thinking that. You believe in seizing the opportunities, in taking leaps and following your partner around the world–– in theory, at least.

They confided in you individually and you told them all the same thing. Tailored to their personalities, but in the same conceptual vein. 

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then at least you tried and you don't have to spend another day wondering ‘what if..?’”

And they bought it. Now, that being said, you already knew that they all fucking liked each other so–– push her and push him and push him and him, and things will fall into place.

It’s just that… the new thing is that you’re the one out out of the loop. You used to be the first to know but now you’re last to find out. And that is strange.

You’re not their number 1 anymore. And there’s nothing you can say about it.

“You’re still my best friend, got it?” K leans his shoulder on yours and you rest yourself against him too. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Today, but not tomorrow.

It’s hard not to be bitter, and it’s horrible that there’s no remedy for it. FOMO is a new-age disease, after all. No science to sort it out yet, no justification to satiate it.

“So…. You talkin’ to anyone? Looking?” He asks too casually for a question he knew you hated. He bumps elbows with you and shake along with it.

“Nope,” your mouth pops at the “p.” 

He raises his brows again, and argh you hate that. There was always someone you were talking to, or someone you’ve been with. But not these days. These days you felt too tired to be someone’s ideal anything. 

“There are some cute guys around, looking at you,” his eyes twinkle a little too brightly for a straight guy with horrible taste. (Facts backed up by Sam, Ry, Liza, AND personal experience) “Plenty of fish, yeah?”

You shake your head, not interested. Sex could come and go, infatuation could come and go–– but you’re kinda tired of the short stuff.  But not exactly ready for a whole-ass relationship either. You don’t need to explain yourself–– you just know you wouldn’t last the night.

“Not in the mood,” you huff.

“Tonight,” he says suggestively, wiggling his shoulders.

You both laugh, you a little bit dryly. You try to direct his attention back to Liza and their budding romance, as the trio finds you guys again. At first they didn’t immediately stand coupled, Ry handing you a drink and Sam going to talk to K. Liza smoothed out her clothes and you all talked about some new plans. It was an honest good time. Ry spilled his drink on Sam, and complained about the laundry again–– Liza got waaaay too drunk and you and K were holding her in your arms while she staggered like Bambi.

It was nice and warm, and a lot like old times. 

I missed that.

You felt yourself smile and let loose–– not thinking of old ex’s or new flings. Just about the friends before you and how safe they made you feel, and how happy you are to see them happy. That’s love, right?

“Oh my god, look!” someone exclaimed, pointing a finger at the sky. You hear a loud clap.

As the night faded and grew colder, fireworks erupted into the sky with a loud crackle. You guys squealed and ran to the top of a sand dune, tripping and tumbling to see the dying summer sights. The fizzing calmed your calls. It’s funny how loud fiery skies filled you with the same awe every time. How it quieted you and made you feel small.

The couples soon held each other, soft embraces with their necks craned upwards. Their eyes twinkled from bursts of lights, smiling at the sharp crackles of sound.

Tonight was the one of many nights they would be able to spend in each other’s arms, so far away and close to you all at once.

This was the line you were cautious about–– you couldn’t talk to them when they were like this, out of courtesy. Out of honoring their moment.

You stood back, watching their excited faces instead of the bursting sky. You felt it. Not jealousy or bitterness, but the awful choke of curiousity and selfishness. The “what if that were me?”

It’s been a while since you’ve had arms wrap over your shoulders and kissed your hair. Enough time has passed for you to forget what that felt like. Too long? What was that like again?

The finale of fireworks struck across the inky, dark sky. You inhaled the smell of chalky smoke, tasting the salt in the air.  Lights and colors fill your eyes, unblinking.

You suck in your cheeks as it quiets and you can hear the ocean again. 

And you let yourself think, I want that again.

So with a new pulse, you went home and did the only logical thing in finding the next Love of Your Life.

You downloaded Tinder.

-

You avoided “serious” dating and being a “serious” anything to anyone, but seeing that “seriousness” in your friends made you wonder if you could be anything like them. If you were ready to open your heart to the possibility of loving and being loved.

Seriously. Sincerely. No bullshit.

This time.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you messed around setting up a profile on Tinder. Regretfully spending way too long shuffling through old selfies that were engaging and enticing. You sigh as you pick through the lot, frustrated at the mind games that have already started.

It’s tiring.

And that’s probably why you end up cracking a few days later and end up telling Sam and Ryan. It was a short two word text, “Tinder. Help?” And you got a speedy reply from both of them (even when you knew they were most likely sat right next to each other). They were at your place in less than an hour.

Sam applauds your efforts, but is only there for moral support more or less. He’s an ace at the dating game, but has no patience to explain his ways. 

“Typical,” You and Ry hum, as Sam rifles through your pantry instead.

Ryan, quiet as he is, sat with you and looked through the photos you choose. He broke down the psychology of it all; about the aloofness and whatever–– which you understood. You need to try hard, but not look like you are. Effortlessness, funny, chic, digestible, likeable–– 

“Performative.” He says flatly, “But this is fast and simple.”

And you have to agree, looking at your phone in his hands.

You blink as you reflect.

This is so much easier in fiction, in those movies where people go on a million dates in one week and match with the hottest fucking dudes ever. Where the protagonist has the perfect amount of self-confidence to keep her moving forward, endless chances to mess up and and still get the guy… God, it’s so easy on paper. There’s no dignity to lose. But here? In the “real” world, even on an app you could delete at anytime–– to put yourself out there? Mortifying.

But, at least you’re bored enough to try.

So, what the fuck, right?

“Did you tell Liza and K yet?” 

“No, they would definitely try to set me up with someone real,” you laugh, leaning back on the couch. You wriggle your toes and tilt your head away.

Ry leans back with you with a brow raised, “Isn’t that… the point?”

Yeah, like, true. They have lots of friends they’re always trying to peddle your way, which is cool and all but… it’s a lot harder to pick and choose and ghost someone when you have mutual contacts.

He read the look on your face and nodded slowly, “Got it, got it.” He laughed to himself, perceptive and cautious. He extends his thoughts, “But you gotta tell us if you actually go and meet anyone. K would kill us if you didn’t say anything.”

“I won’t get into any trouble,” you squint, looking away from him mischievously.

“Uh-huh,” Ry affirms plainly as he swipes right on a few cute boys. 

-

Your experience with dating apps was limited–– you made a joke account a while ago and never really did much with it. Then you had a more “real” account that you never tried sincerely with. You had real people you dated at the time–– uhm. But now, now that you’re actually on here looking… it is bleak.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re winding down with a glass of wine swiping through your options. People you actually knew showed up, and you swiped that shit away so fast you almost chucked your phone with it. You flipped through people who looked fake for real, some older dudes, and plenty of people with vibes you didn’t like–– the pool is so wide you almost didn’t know where to start. And you could afford to be picky, sure. It’s just, who knew that “too many options” would actually be a problem.

You spend the next few days idling checking and chatting, not getting any viable catches. You felt like you were just peering into small windows, head in and head out. Nothing caught your attention long enough for you to want to look in further.

You even start poking at things you never wanted to acknowledge as real, like the impact of cheesy bios, and deciphering who was who in group pics, and the thrilling amount of dudes holding up fish.

Pretty wack.

You felt yourself grow tired of it again. The adrenaline was waning, burnt to the stump. Good thing you didn’t try too hard. Pfft.

You sleepily swipe away on your phone, too late into the night. You blink hard as you snuggle into your covers, muttering, 

“Just one more.”

Ah.

>>  check out the whole bio here <<

“T, 23. Friendly, neighborhood romantic,” you whisper to yourself. You crack a small smile.

After countless swipes left, and (1) accidental swipe right, you match with a blurry boy–– super sus, I know. You don’t know how it happened tbh–– there’s nothing to “look” at, but your eyes fell on this one. Maybe because you just watched “Far From Home,” and enjoyed this spidey reference. Or you’re just innately drawn to the word “romantic.” Could be either, easily.

“It’s a match!”

Shit. You mumble, your profile photos floating together. You take a second to look through his meager collection. They were all obscure and blurry and not exactly in the artsy way.

You couldn’t decipher much, only that he had fair skin (?), with dark hair and dark eyes, but even that was questionable. 

You’re pretty sure you matched with a bot or some old dude, or worse, a kid. You can hardly see his face in the pictures, blurry or cropped or covered.

Okay...

Is that his real name? Probably not. Is he actually 23? Doubt it. Is this going to go anywhere? Let’s hope not.

But whatever, it’s the first “match” that has seemed interesting in the past few days, solely on your pickiness. And this random bastards only gets you out of dumb luck.

You rub your eyes, and set down your phone, resigning to your stupidity.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Good night.

And the gears were set in motion as you slept.

You had a new message on tinder waiting for you, but you didn’t check the app until much later. You go through your Sunday morning routine, only opening your phone after a light breakfast and stretch. 

“Oh god,” you blink as you catch the red notification. You look around the room, preparing yourself for what could be anything. You take a deep breath and open the chat.

T: Hey

Oh. You stare at it, so bare with no personality to pick at. You wonder if you should even reply, but by the grips of boredom, you do.

You: Hey!

You set your phone down, trying to swallow the short thrill. You walk away for a moment. A reply comes within minutes.

And it’s a goddamn mess.

T: Sorry, i’ve never done this before.

Strike one. You suck in your cheeks. While you’re fairly new at this too, you… don’t know how much time you want to invest it in. Here again, you debate replying back–– but he beats you to it.

T: I’m trying to get over my ex

UHM? Strike two, you almost have to laugh. This is just testing your patience. Your jaw wriggles as you see he has more to say…

T: And you look a lot like her.

Damn. Strike three, he’s out. He’s got to know that would put anyone off, right? Why would you even admit that straight out? T? Come on, man.

You: i’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.

T: it’s an apology now, i didn’t know what to say

You: you could have complimented my killer smile or the pic of me with a dog. Anything but that

T: Right, right. I’m such a dickhead. Sorry, it’s nice to meet you though.

You hold your phone away, debating whether or not you should just delete the entire goddamn thing because this was just too stupid–– but it’s Sunday morning and what do you have left to lose. 

You chew on the side of your lip, deciding to entertain “T,” but don’t spare him any soft words. You’d rather get straight to the point.

You: So… you go by “T?” And don’t have any real pics of your face? Are you even real???

T: Yeah, just private

You: kinda defeats the purpose of putting yourself out there though, right? Lol

T: It’s too easy if i put my face out there

You: oh, ha ha ha. So you’re saying you’re too hot to show your face? Love the confidence dude

And this is where you start actually laughing out loud. You wipe away tears at the side of your eyes, cackling at this display of internet confidence. It’s a tiny piece of amusement from a stranger you have 0 feelings for, and you’re not going to be mean to him… but you’ll definitely poke fun to see how far you can get.

Besides, he’s still replying back right? That’s almost hilarious in itself.

T: Hey, confidence is sexy, right?

You: yeah, more in person than online! 😂 (Laughing emoji)

You take a second to scroll back through his photos, and check to see if he has a link to instagram, twitter, anything. But he doesn’t. You try to pull up any evidence you can–– and at the very least, these blurry pics all look like they’re taken of the same person.

Slight build with dark curled hair–– rippable from any ambiguous online “hot boy” mood board though. 

You’re wary.

You spot a picture with his smile, crinkled eye and lifted lip. You could swear he looked familiar… but maybe that’s because you’ve seen that same white boy/model on Pinterest.

Maybe.

T: wanna meet up and see for yourself?

You: maybe if you show me your face first

T: can’t do that quite yet, but I’d love to keep talking to you

You furrow your brows as you read his words. He would be down to meeting up with you upfront, but hesitates to send you a picture beforehand? That’s definitely a red flag, right? Right?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

You pull yourself back and let out a deep sigh. You’re probably the only person he’s talking to, especially with those purposeful (?) blurry pics and cryptic everything. Ugh.

It’s not playing yourself if you know it’s fake right? You can step out of this at anytime.

You: as long as you can hold my attention :) 

T: I’ll try my very best ✌🏼 (peace sign emoji)

–– and with some very, very loose banter…. you end up exchanging numbers. You’ve put the whole Tinder thing on pause for now–– all four days of it. All for one stranger with no tact.

Unknown Number: hey, this is t (smiley face)

You: pfffft, I’m going to call you Blurry Boy. Since your name obviously isn’t T

BB: that’s fine with me :) mind if i call you darling?

You: ew

BB: o come on. It’s cute

You: please tell me you’re actually 23 or i swear to god I’m going to fucking lose it

BB: I swear 🤞🏼 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: ok. Prove it. Send me a pic of you–– you face or whatever

Ok. That’s a leap. He could rip a picture from anywhere but let’s see how fast he could do it. If it takes too long, then he probably did just rip it from the internet.

And if he makes a mistake and actually sends you a clear pic of himself? Well, that could only be seen as a win.

BB: 

But you are ruthless.

You: ok. Send me another one.

And he could stop if he wanted to.

Only, he doesn’t. In a short moment, he sends another picture.

BB:

Same room, same face, same glasses. I guess you could believe him… for now. No matter how shitty the photos have end up....

But he could also be one of those people with folders full of stock photos… you never know.

But putting paranoia aside, you decide to turn off the heat a lil. You grab your coffee and sit on your couch, sliding into a comfy position. You turn on some YouTube videos on your laptop, watching the first few seconds as you lean your cheek against the couch cushions.

Phew.

You: thanks…. sorry I’m so paranoid. But you truly have the worst pictures of yourself put up there. Potato quality.

BB: nah, i know. I get it. Haha it’s alright, a pretty girl like you needs to protect herself

You: oh BOY that doesn’t make me feel any better 😂(laughing emoji)

BB: fuck, sorry. Ugh that is fuckin creepy. Shit. I’m terrible at texting

You: no, no. It’s alright. Actually, great job with taking those photos so fast. Most people would have taken sooooo much longer. You get a few points for not holding back

BB: babe, i told you. I’m gorgeous. I don’t gotta worry about it 😂😂💕 (laughing emojis)

You: right, right blurry boy. Great job with all those fuzzy ass photos.  🙄 (Eye roll emoji) haha are you really looking for someone out here or…?

BB: sort of. I’m testing out the waters and… you’re really pretty

You have to blink back and roll your eye, you’re unable to digest this conversation as real. They’re flowery words given to you, for sure, but your suspicion is much stronger. Your guard will not let down or be appeased by some blurry ass dude calling you “pretty.”

He replies before you have the chance.

BB: i dont wanna get into the messy details but yeah. Company sounds great right about now

You: yeah, i feel that

It’s a real and valid reply, but it’s a terrible one. It’s so hard for someone to reply back to that–– but you’re testing his perseverance. If he finds something to say back, it might just prove one more thing to you. That he might actually be interested, and someone worth talking to.

BB: sorry i lead with my baggage, I’m a fucking mess

You: *a confident fucking mess

BB: thank you 😇 (angel emoji)

You: don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse

 You laugh darkly to yourself. I’ve been worse.

BB: hahahaha thanks. Ok. But all that aside… real talk now. Can I ask you about the dog in your photo now?

You hate to admit that your lips curled into a smile, as you hastily type back. 

Your coffee was half drank and cold by now. The YouTube video you were supposed to be watching has moved onto part two. 

You eyes are still scanning your text screen, waiting to see those three bouncing dots at the bottom left hand corner. 

He’s not the worst–– and at most, even if this turns out to be fake, this is just your Sunday morning entertainment. Nothing more and nothing less. These are just insignificant texts that will probably lead to a few lost days, or mediocre sex at best.

So, whatever, right?

-

MONDAY MORNING

BB: good morning! ☀️ (sun emoji)

You: well you sure get up early. Good morning 

BB: Haha, I like to start the week as soon as i can. Do you drink coffee or tea in the morning?

You: coffee most days. You?

BB: i drink tea, darling

You: yeah that’s probably better for you haha. Less expensive too.

BB: mhm, definitely cheaper if you come over and i make you a cup

You: wow, the flirting starts the second the sun is up, huh?

BB: what, still too early? 

You: never too early

BB: do you brew the coffee yourself?

You: some mornings. I usually pop into XX Cafe midday if i can.

BB: catch you there? 😂 (laughing emoji) nah, i’ll have to check the place out. I don’t know this area too well.

You: i guess if you can find me! I’m usually in and out pretty fast. Got places to be you know? Hm, did you just move here?

BB: yeah, i got settled in about a week ago

You: staying long?

BB: long enough

You: oh ha ha. Seriously not suspicious at all

BB: yeah I’m in town for a month or two. I’m getting away from work and stress for a minute

You: and you chose here?

BB: quiet enough for me. 😌 (smiley face) and you’re here so that’s a plus

You: relentless

BB: and nothing less.

-

MONDAY EVENING

BB: you haven’t seen that series? You’re crazy

You: whaaat! It’s not my thing. AND i don’t have time for it

BB: it’s a masterpiece, come on! Who doesn’t like laughing? It’s funny! You’ll like it

You: you’re gonna owe me a drink if don’t like it

BB: I’ll gladly buy you one right now if that’s what it takes to get you to watch it

You: ugh, i guess if you recommend it i can tryyyy…

BB: you won’t regret it!

You: ugh you are so annoying. What are you up to right now?

BB: reading emails and talking to you

You: haha what’s so important that you’re reading an email at like 11. Gotta turn on that “do not disturb” dude

BB: I can’t mute the work stuff, unfortunately

You: so if i called you over tonight you wouldn’t be able to? “Because of work?”

BB: you serious? I’m only taking serious offers right now

You: No! It’s monday. Can’t indulge you that early in the week

BB:  what a shame. I’d drop it in a heartbeat for you

You: Nice to know 

BB: I’ve got a feeling that I shouldn’t have told you that (laughing emoji)

You:  😈 (devil emoji)

-

TUESDAY MORNING

BB: good morning!

You: hey! I remembered I had some tea back at my apartment so… just wanted to let you know you had an impact on my day 🙄😊 (eye roll emoji and smiley face emoji)

BB: I could still make a better cup for you 😘 (kissy face emoji)

You: right. What do you have planned today?

BB: hmm, I’m heading out to the gym. Then I might explore the city a bit. Bump into me?

You: well, I don’t know if I could recognize you even if i wanted to

BB: you’ll recognize me

You: haha, okay? Wait, do I know you? –– if this is a prank… 

BB: it’s not! 

You: .. that wouldn’t be cool.

BB: it’s not a prank! There’s just a lot of things I can’t tell you just yet. It’d be a lot easier if we were able to meet up in person.

You: why?

BB: I’m pretty private. It’s really hard for me to just… share certain things with you. But I want to! SO badly! I just can’t send you a whole picture of my face. It’s complicated.

You: Sorry? I don’t get it.

BB: Ahhhh. This is going to sound so bad. I trust you, like as a person. But also I can’t trust you. If you meet me–– you’ll understand why. I’m sorry. 

You: Okay…? And you have to understand that this sounds absolutely batshit to me, right? Like it’s pretty hard to trust you like this. 

BB: yeah I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. But honestly, it’s nice to be able to talk to you like this and I hope we can continue to chat. I really do like you.

You: … That is really unfair.

BB: I know! I’m sorry. Give me another day or two–– i have a few things to figure out but, I SWEAR i’m not lying to you. I promise it’ll make sense soon

You: well, if you promise you’re not a creep….

BB: I’m not!

You: and that you’re not using me as a replacement for your ex

BB: I won’t!

You: you are SO lucky i’m patient

BB: and kind. And beautiful. And amazing.

You: you’re pushing it, blurry boy. I just need you to realize how unfair this is.

BB: I do. And I know. I’m sorry.

You: what are you looking for here? With me or with anyone you would have met from the app?

BB: a home away from home

You: yeah i read that in your bio. What does that mean?

BB: I’m looking for someone I can spend time with and trust with my whole heart

You: ha ha

BB: I’m serious. It’s hard to find.

You: you’re a real romantic, that’s for sure

-

TUESDAY EVENING

You: you have a DOG and you didn’t tell me?

BB: what, you’re not interested in the fact that I have younger twin brothers and another 8 years younger than me? ‘Always about Tessa

You: obviously! Send a pic!

BB: 

You: is this from right now?

BB: nah, something I took ages ago. I had to leave her back home with my family.

You: aww, that’s too bad.

BB:  would you come over if she were here?

You: Duh! And I guess you’d have to make me a cup.

BB: sounds lovely. Let’s make it a date

You: ha ha. You miss home?

BB: More than you know. I travel A LOT

You: well, call back often! They would be happy to know you miss them! Loneliness is not a great feeling.

BB: I do, all the time! And definitely not a good feeling. So, it’s really nice to talk to you. Thank you.

You: Sorry, I’m not a very great conversational partner. But still happy to hear that

BB: You are. You’re still here

You: You are too.

BB: You already mean a lot to me

You: Have you been in many relationships? (Or hookups idk)

BB: No, and not really. I’ve only been in a handful of long-term relationships

You: Interesting

BB: What?

You: Just wondering if you are really catching feelings for me

BB: Guilty. You?

You: I don’t think I know enough about you to catch anything. No offense 😬😅(cringe emoji, laughing emoji)

BB: Ha, no. I meant if you’ve been in many relationships?

You: Oh! Sorry. A few of either. Did long-term once. Didn’t work out, obviously–– so here I am. That’s that.

BB: Guess we both have a past to bury

You: Please don’t say anything about “burying yourself into my pussy to feel better”

BB: WHAT. I wasn’t even thinking about that. That’s all you 👀

You: Hey, you’ve been pretty quick all the other times, bud.

BB: If I tell you I want more than just sex, does that make you feel better?

You: It makes me think about the fact that you still want to have sex with me

BB: And I can’t deny that 😊 (smiley blushy face emoji)

-

WEDNESDAY MORNING:

BB: Good morning!

You: Morning! Little later than usual–– sleeping in?

BB: Yeah, since I can afford to. You replied quicker than usual. Were you waiting for me? 😉 (wink emoji)

You: Haha, you wish. I was already on my phone, stud.

BB: Right, right. I can tell you like to play hard to get

You: No I don’t!

BB: 😂 (laughing emoji)

You: I don’t!

BB: Wow, feels great to finally have something to hold over you 

You: I hate you 🙄 (eye roll emoji)

BB: Have a nice day, love 😊🌈(smiley face, rainbow emoji)

-

PING! 

“BB? Who is bb?” Liza asks you on Wednesday evening after seeing a notification pop up on your phone. She grabs it off the sticky cafe table and looks at you with her pretty head tilted.

Oh––

You wiggle your jaw, and raise your brows,

 “No one important.” 

You take your phone back and open the message discreetly. It’s nothing special, you’re sure, but you have to look.

BB: so have you seen the last episode yet????? Hello??

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!” She pleads, putting down the drink in her hands. You were at the mall, idly walking and taking a short break. She looks at you pointedly, eyes darting around your face for any spot of weakness, as she quietly whines, “You didn’t tell us anything about this…”

“It’s because I’m not––”  You offer, nodding. You flip your phone upside down as the message lights up again. “–– seeing anyone.”

She gives you a squinted look of total disbelief.

You’ve been messaging “Blurry Boy” nonstop for the past few days. First you talked about nothing, and now you’re asking each other about how your day was going and what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing later. 

You always find something. Your phone is constantly by your side, sound on.

And there’s a layer of real time now, now that you’ve gotten to know him and his schedule better.

You learn that he has his own cute dog name Tessa and that his family fosters dogs back home, and that he’s the oldest, with twin brothers and a younger one he’s been trying desperately to relate to. You find out that his favorite color is black and that he’s in deep shit for stealing his best friend’s fav hoodie. All of this makes him feel like someone you know, someone you could call a friend.

He feels like more than just some guy you’ve talked to waaaay too long from Tinder.

And what’s worse, is that he knows certain things about you too. He knows that you don’t like sleeping in the dark and that you’re borderline addicted to iced coffee. That you like rewatching old romcoms and classic spooky movies… That your back hurts from work and that you have a fucking dentist appointment on Thursday. 

You know a lot more about each other than less. And that’s kinda really fucking weird.

“You’re always smiling at your phone,” Liza says flatly, picking her drink back up to take a long and loud sip. Major side-eye. “‘Fess up.”

“No, I’m not!” You say through your teeth, trying to not smile. But under her stare you melt and crack under pressure.

You keep telling yourself that you’ll stop replying–– that he’s super sus and this isn’t going anywhere. But… you just keep texting him back.

“It’s nothing, seriously.”

“Let me see,” she pouts. “Pleeeease.” She flaps her hands at you, wriggling her fingers.

“No!”

Even though you know that it’s a losing game with her, you try to put up a fight, turning away and holding your phone tightly. You have onlookers now from the squealing, kicking and creaking chairs.

You give in after a minute.

You hand your phone in defeat as you readjust yourselves. You clear your throat.

“Okay, okay. But this is like, not serious at all, okay.” You rationalize as you show her the pictures you had screenshot and saved from him. “I barely know him.”

Barely! You’ve chanted that in your head over and over. Not enough to know if you want to get to know him, or what to drop him. That’s the purgatory you’ve been living in.

Liza is uncharacteristically quiet as she scrolls up and down the chats and flips through the pictures. Her hair covers whatever expression she’s making.

That makes you nervous, and you start babbling.

“Yeah, I mean. I don’t think he’s real or anything–– It’s just for fun and it’s whatever. I don’t even care.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

She freezes on a picture of him. The one where you can see a part of his smile and a crinkled eye. She zooms in and pauses again.

?

“Babe?” Her voice is cautious and slow. God. You don’t want to hear what she has to say next with this tone of voice…

“Hm?” You attempt to perk up, hiding the fact that you just gulped with nerves. It feels like you’re holding something sour in your mouth.

I don’t like this...

“So, he seems like a super nice guy and all but…” She speaks gingerly and wide eyed.

“But what?” You feel yourself recoil. 

As much as you talk a big game… it would still hurt to have this illusion shattered. This self-inflicted fantasy. You don’t want her to keep going. 

But you can guess what’s coming next.

...

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland.”

…

…

…

Wait…...

What?!

-

A.N: WAH! she’s back!! well, as much as she can be. haha i know i have a million things always running at the same time but... i really will just ride the wave of inspiration as it comes.... that’s all i can do. anyway, hope you like this series! it’s going to be an exploration of starting new relationships in your young adulthood–– and how to handle be “The one” after “The One.” it’ll be a good time.

Thank you guys for reading! Please like, comment and reblog :) You’re all amazing. 

Much Love,

Madmadmilk 💫

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks! 

[omigiry]

“𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬”

warnings: gunshots.

POV: Third person (she/her)

ry’s notes: I really love writing angst. So it gets sad at the ending.

“What do you think of this one?” (name) showed Kuroo. She was holding a flower hairpin that she picked out from the vendor selling it.

“It looks good on you.” Kuroo says sincerely as he grabs the hairpin from her and puts it on her hair then pays the vendor.

“You know, I could have paid for that.”

“I enjoy buying things for you.” He smiled sweetly. He likes to think that whenever she look at the things he has brought for her, planned or not, it would remind her of him.

It was a night of festivities, and people were roaming around the night market and also the food stalls that were set up, everyone was waiting for the firework show later. Kuroo’s and (name)’s family decided to celebrate together and have already rented tables in the sighting area for the firework show, which was on top of a hill.

The sun had finally set and the alleys were lit up with dazzling lights hanging from the posts. The booths were also lit up so that they could attract customers. Children and teens were the ones who were enjoying the booths as they tried the mini games that were set up hoping to win a prize. Food stalls were busy preparing and taking orders as people lined up to grab something to eat for dinner. The humid air that formed because of the crowd and the smoke from the food stalls, were making sweat a little.

Kuroo grabs the fan from (name)’s hand and fanned her nape so that she could cool off a little. She would get distracted by what other vendors were selling that she forgets to fan herself, and he knows that she gets easily hot.

“Thanks, Tetsuro.” Those little gestures he made would make her heart flutter and would feel reassured that Kuroo is there for her.

They both knew each other since high school, then college came and they lost contact with each other. Eventually they met again at a bookstore. Kuroo was buying a book that their professor required and (name) was working part time at that bookstore. They have rekindled their old friendship and Kuroo frequently visited the bookstore to study there just to wait for her to finish her shift. After for some months, Kuroo wouldn’t let his opportunity slip again and ask her on a date. He was extremely happy when she said yes, and from there on they built a strong relationship together.

He was really thankful for that chance to meet her again and now everything felt complete for once, he never asked for anything more.

“(name)?” Kuroo said and gently squeezed her hand. (name) turned to him and hummed in response. “I love you.”

She smiled at him and returned his I love you. “You say it at most random times.”

“Well, I always want you to hear it, and know that it will never change.”

“I know, Tetsuro. I also feel the same way.” She lets go of his hand just for her to entwine her arms around his before holding onto his hand again. “I really don’t like doing this kind of thing at this temperature. But I’ll endure it for you.”

Kuroo chuckled at her act but it was true, whenever he would ask for a hug or just to be close to her in a hot and humid weather she would push him away because it feels sticky on the skin when sweat forms from the contact.

They have returned to where their family was waiting with the food that they had ordered. Everyone was passing on paper plates, spoons and forks, and setting up the table for dinner. The firework show begins in an hour so they decided to eat first to fully enjoy the show.

During dinner the families asked what their plans were after college and would tease them about the wedding date. It would get (name) all flustered at the mention of weddings, she wanted it as well, but it was still early to talk about it. Kuroo, on the other hand, was confidently saying all his plans he had with her on it.

Kuroo is serious about his relationship with her. When he was sure that he wanted to spend every waking moment with her, he immediately told her that he would introduce her to his family. (Name) was having a nervous breakdown an hour before the meeting, but Kuroo assured her that it is going to be alright. When she finally got to meet his family, the first thing his mom said was how he talked about her a lot and how he was excited for him to introduce her to them. The family welcomed her and she realized that Kuroo is taking this relationship seriously. After a month, she introduced Kuroo to her family this time. Eventually, both families became close through birthday celebrations and also during special holidays.

Everyone was happy and content. What could possibly go wrong?

After dinner, they were clearing up the table. All the paper plates were thrown in the black garbage bag that they have brought. They have also brought out some snacks and drinks as they watch the firework show.

Only a few minutes left. Kuroo wanted to stay like this forever as he watched his family interacting with her family, he really felt as if everything was perfect already. He felt her leaned closer to him and squeezed his hands.

“You’re thinking how everything is perfect right?” She said.

“Yes. I am really thankful that your family welcomed me.”

“Me too.”

“If not, I would do everything for them to love me.” He declared.

“We’re not living in a romance drama, Kuroo.” She commented and laughed at his declaration.

“If we are, we will be the best couple ever.”

“You’re really whipped huh.”

“Only for you.” He said and leaned closer to her face.

“Gross. Stop being cheesy.” She laughed again and pushed his face away. He was about to lean in more when the first firework colored the sky and followed by a series of it. The booming noises from the fireworks drowned every chatter from the area. Everyone stopped what they were doing to admire the fireworks.

It was really beautiful.

As Kuroo was looking up at the skies he felt that her grip on his hands were suddenly loosening. “Kuroo.” She whispered, Kuroo wasn’t able to hear it because of the noises but because of the weak grip she has on him it made his head turn in her direction.

He saw how her eyes were unfocused and her breathes were labored.

“(Name)? Are you alright?”

She felt pain from the back of her head. She touched the area where it hurts the most and felt something wet. When she looked at her hands she saw blood. Seeing this, Kuroo felt his world crumble and was shouting at his family to call an ambulance. When their family saw what was happening they took action. They were shaken but they needed to focus on calling for help. Everyone around them who noticed the commotion started panicking as well.

Chatters about whether there's a serial killer around, or a person carrying a gun around here. Due to the loud noises of the fireworks it was really hard to hear if someone fired a gun, and people weren’t aware of their surroundings as they just enjoyed the view.

(Name) was getting weaker and couldn’t stand up on her own anymore. She let her body fall in Kuroo’s embrace. Even though that the fireworks were loud in the background, his ears were ringing in silence. Every sound was blocked from him, and everything around him seems to blur. 

Kuroo was frantically telling her to stay awake and not to close her eyes. He ripped of a cloth from his shirt and put pressure on the wound.

“Please, stay with me.” He said as he caressed her cheek. Tears forming in his eyes as he chokes on every word.

“Kuroo.” She weakly says and smiles.

“Ssshhh. Don’t say anything. Don’t waste your energy, just focus on breathing.”

“I love you.” She said as her eyes slowly closed.

“No, no, no.” By now, tears were streaming in his eyes. “Is the ambulance coming?!” He turned to his family.

“They will be here in 5 minutes.”

“Can they get here any faster?!” Kuroo was breaking to pieces. No, I can’t lose you. You have to fight (name). You need to live.

The paramedics finally came and did what they needed to do, as they took her away her dad came along to ride the ambulance and the rest of them quickly ran to their cars and drove to the hospital where they will be treating her.

During the whole car ride, Kuroo was praying for her to be alive. Everything in him was going numb and he can’t think straight. He wanted to hold her hand and squeeze it tight. He didn’t want her to be out of his sight. Please, be alright. Please let her live.

[nightwingvixen23]

Pairing : DamiJon fanfic in their later teens

Little Vixen Side Note : Wrote this piece a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep and came across the dark version of Cant Help Falling In Love; which is what I wrote it to

Cheeecckkk ittttt ouuutttt

A speeding bullet of black, yellow and green. He blew ahead of me in a chase throughout the thick of winter. Skeletal remains of my heart began to drop, all signs of epic violence tittering around us in pursuance of the two malefactors we had just minutes prior unmasked who's carnage stained hands were laying hell into the legs of a screaming woman, in attempts at victimizing her to a two-sided brutality. And though be as it may, with her browbeaten crying, this ambushed petite woman of golden curls had torn like a vicious feline to free herself from the drooling lock jaws of famished wolves refusing to die in this wasted city. Then she'd stopped. She'd turned her head towards us. And it was with that act of final defeat, the deadlock of her blue eyes onto Damians, that had been a tethering of empathetic steel.

In that moment, I'd witnessed the city burn within his eyes. A revival of Pompeii, humans choking on ash; and it was by his hand that carried out was this biblical apocalypse. I mean, you can only stand to see so many weeds in your garden before getting tired of yanking them out by hand and simply just mowing over it all to start fresh.

I'd numbly watched Robin free the woman who'd scurried down the dark street (purse and shoe forgotten like a broken Cinderella) and analyzed where the rules of these unbidden streets lingered any longer ? A wasted land left starved of God's Love long ago, and so us as his children are outcasts in regards to just how mortality works. This is The Devils playground now where we've adapted into calling out Love, not by the blossoming virtue of a budding rose, but by the cut of it's petalless thorns; where the only splash of red comes at the blooming of our own blood. 

What else to do with pain than to make it our art form, our very own self worth. To turn it into a purpose and to make that purpose something beautiful.

⏳...⌛

A park.

Swings creaking with a glacial slow breeze as ghost children play games on the teeter totter. White fluff born from clouds shroud lost personal belongings from humans long past through, and will overnight, do it's best, to shroud the two bodies lay dead 'mid this park's jogging trail.

He stands between them; The Sympathizer, a crimson splattered god in which no Olympian can put a name to crowned in injustices and liberalizing duties.

Crows form a murder beneath these dark skies, dancing and entangling above our heads. Something cruel. Something elegant. Something in harmony with what I behold here and now; because somewhere off in Gotham City this man, that I've fallen in a surprise trust fall for, remarkably kept a young woman home-free tonight. Not from duty. But from instinct.

"Robin.."

He turns to me.

He sheaths his sword; and he smiles.

He smiles at me through tears.

He smiles at me through red blood.

He smiles at me through falling snow.

He smiles at me through the antagonism; and that has to be the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen.

Regardless; i still wonder what chamber door, dusted with years of abandonment, had finally been gifted a hand to open it's rusted impasse come with what we'd witnessed tonight. What poisonous blend leaks out this door to flood his veins and pour fever into his eyes; clouding his vision against a better form of judgment on justice that has two miserable assed men, twice his size, laying slaughtered like pigs with him standing noble between them both ?

Even though the winter wonderland park is dead quiet, I've never in all my existence heard so much noise. So much all at once while staring at Damian, just now realizing that he'd removed his mask long ago: now raven's stare with deadly ink eyes in jealous passion at the too black fullness of that jet hair filled up in a shaven bun. Cat's whine in envy at the feline-like features of this clandestine face. Jade gems rust in sad defeat before such green eyes. He's the pristine vision of Talia al Ghul (nothing about him is Bruce anymore aside from the cut of his jaw) housing 9 lives amidst 100 secrets.

"I love you," like the many times I've voiced it before, it gushes from me all soft and rushed.

"You love me? You love me?? Don`t," and there is coldness in his stare. Floating all the while amongst the arctic, I've struck the iceberg. Sinking under. Cracked in two. And I've got to say, the embrace is haunting.

"Why."

"It is true that the lion coddled the lamb beneath its purring chin, bustling with a protective big paw. Be as it may, unbeknownst to the onlookers, once turned away; the lion gorged on the lamb. Feasted upon its frail body only to lick at its bloodied carcass and keep it close by. Not in memory, but as a trophy; for the lion`s former coddling of the lamb was nothing more than animalistic curiosity.

"Do you not realize Jon that we are all animals, you and I ? Instinct drives us, some however are more lethal, some run in packs, some run alone, and others...just….run." green devours me. Green tears through my flesh. Green swallows me whole. Perhaps I am but being gorged upon by the starving lion.

His lips curl into a sadistic sneer despite the tear tracks on his face and I'm all but floored by the fabric skin of this demon that everyone's tried to give a halo, "I will rip you apart, little lamb."

"Then by all means," I grab his hand to wrap it around my throat, it's cold but his grip is tight and his lips on mine are hot, "take my neck to slaughter."

Five fingers tremble in innocence against my throat; a golden token of humanity, honesty and clemeity. Making my wonder

just who really here is the lion and who is the lamb? Then he bares his teeth, rabid and wild. I bare my teeth back, standing ground in the middle of our Eden turned Jungle. Then our lips meet again. Our teeth clash. We fight to force the other into submission though neither backs down.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe, he is but a lamb that learned to evolve amongst the lions. And could it be that I am but a lion having learned to secret himself amongst sheep? Maybe that's why him and I fight more than find common ground, for the foolish costumes we were taught to wear in order to cover up what rightful creatures God bore us as.

We are different and the same whether it be his purity or my hidden away corruption.

The volcanic eruption of his anger and soothing temperament of my ocean meet. 

They form an isle.

A match to an ignition causes an inevitable explosion. But, sometimes, that match plus ignition can give birth to fireworks rather than a bomb; we've just gotta be patient and count to 3. I count to 2 before seeing the spark. And right at 3 comes the crackle then pop, a raining shower of diabolical color transcending the stark black sky.

Who ever would of known that 4th of July in the middle of December would  look so much like Heaven waging war with Hell.

                                               ⌛...⏳

No one is home execpt for me to answer the chipper knock at the front door on the next sun smothered day, and the florist that greets me is happy to do so.

In my hands I'd received my gift of a crimson rose bouquet;

and while up in my room i'd read the card written on with an elegant gothic flourish:

                     My Little Lamb.

These three words made the wool wearing prey in me seek sanctuary, and yet, caused the dagger toothed predator in me to roar.

 *END

[yeojaa]

SUGAR HIGH, chapter iv. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary.  You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing.  jeon jungkook.  mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags.  angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional bagge, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~2100

chapter 4.  How’m I Doing

They say all that ever matters is timing.  You think they must be right - because no matter how good you've always been together, the timing is just never right.

He's awake before you and for once, he doesn't mind how his internal clock has him stirring before the sun has risen. It gives him time to linger here, where he belongs.

It feels oddly domestic, his arm hooked around the pillow and the other barely breaching the divide between you.  Tips of fingers ghost over where you'd be if you only shifted an inch, trailing through the heat radiating off your frame.  He exhales a sound like frustration but there's only warmth in his mouth, peeking past his teeth like rays of sunlight.  

Like this, Jungkook allows himself to daydream.  To imagine endless summer skies and you weight of your hand in his, laughter curling out of your mouth like smoke and filling the space until he's drunk on the sound.  He drifts between your cotton candy smile, so saccharine sweet it gives him toothaches, and the feel of your hip nudging his through choreography he'd love nothing more than to practice with you.  (You'd hate it - two left feet, you'd argue - but he'd insist.  You'd always say yes.)

He closes his eyes and it's you at his side, keeping him anchored to this reality he's so often surprised by.  It's you laughing with Hoseok, bursting into an impromptu slide and disappearing behind fingers when he's focused his lens on you.  It's the two of you in the kitchen, adjusting to each other with practiced ease and cowering when Seokjin reminds you both of the burning banana pancakes.  It's you swiping the rain from his eyes, pulling him beneath a shared umbrella while the sky opens above you, so heavy it sinks into your bones.

He imagines being swept away during the holidays, Christmas shopping in between trying on silly costumes, elf-hats pulled low over your ears.  He kisses you at midnight on New Years and he nearly forget about the fireworks going off above your heads - there are enough of those between you.  He finds your face in a sea of thousands, serenades you like there's nothing else in the world.  

He daydreams about all the things he's never had.  

(Whoever said daydreams hurt had never dealt with a reality like this.)

 You're studying his face like a woman possessed, as if maybe, just maybe, you could burn this image into your mind for the rest of your days.  That it could be your saving grace when he's halfway across the world and you're reminded that you're alone again.  

You memorize the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the little freckle smack dab in the centre draws your attention without even trying.  You examine the way his lashes flutter with each breath, the way his forehead tenses here and there, brows drawn together by something you wish you could smooth away.

You want to give him the world. 

Instead, you're gingerly reaching out, puppeteered by your quick-beating heart.  

It feels like electricity shooting through your veins, igniting your bloodstream as the tips of fingers graze his temple.  You touch him like he's precious, crystal, about to shatter into a million pieces.  Within your brassy broken cage of bones, your heart skips a beat.  You withdraw--

"Don't stop."  He's caught your wrist in the same moment you've pulled away.  He's pleading, hopeful and sweet.

When you card through his powder puff of hair, a smile spreads like butter, too big for his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.  A hum of contentment parts his lips and he's leaning into your touch, seeking warmth like a sunbathing cat.  You gladly oblige him, alternating between stroking the swell of his cheek, doodling nonsense into the margins of his skin, and sweeping his mop of brunette behind his ears.  

You stay like this for minutes that stretch on in silence - only broken by a vibration of his phone.

"You have to go," you speak the words faintly, muffling the sound against your pillow.  You know how you sound - disappointed and just a little petulant.  You don't mean to.  

He hums, as he always does, and catches your fingers in his own.  His large palm engulfs yours but your fingers, long and thin from years of piano practice, easily combat his.  You giggle once, soft and low, as he twines them together, gently knocking yours - his? - knuckles against your chin.

"I do."  It's like a nail in a coffin, the finality of it.  "Why don't you come by later?  Everyone will want to see you."

The thought makes you smile despite yourself.  You'd missed them, too.  "Okay."

Your acquiescence seems good enough for him and he's bright-eyed and bunny smiled, mouth splitting wide.  He's still got your hand in his, refusing to let go as he rises up, holding himself comfortably upon one elbow.  There's emotion in the way he looks at you, takes in the way your bangs drift hazy over your vision and your teeth worry your bottom lip with self-conscious abandon. 

"You'll be okay, you know."  His reassurance is stronger than the sun's rays, more concrete than the ground beneath your feet.  It's equal parts a statement and a promise.  He'll make sure you're okay - he always has.

Because he's the person who dives without thought, swimming among the shipwrecks in your eyes.  He's the one who has always brought the light to those cracked hulls and broken boughs.  He's ignored the swirling void and gnashing teeth, refusing to leave behind the buried treasure he knows sits beneath the trench.  He'll pull you to the surface, even if it means drowning in your ocean. 

"I know - I have you."  

 Once he's called for a car and you've both brushed your teeth, you wait outside the front door together.  You're sipping at coffee - or trying to - and he's leaning on the railing, light bathing his handsome face in a way that makes your heart stop.

He was your best friend but you'd be lying if you said he wasn't breathtaking.

"We've got meetings until about 3 PM.  I'm not sure what's going on after that but you can probably just come by then."  Jungkook is studying his phone, scrolling through unread messages and deftly ticking back responses.  He's got his bag hiked over his shoulder, lighter now that he's unloaded your souvenirs, and seems perfectly at ease.  Without glancing up, he's holding out a hand for your mug of coffee.  You pass it to him without a word, watching the way the steam curves  around powdery skin and drifts into the early morning.

He takes a sip, nose wrinkling in that distinctly Jungkook way, and hands it back to you.  "Too hot."

"I could've told you that,"  you murmur around a mouth of beguiling laughter, happily returning both cold palms to the ceramic.  Heat warms you to your core as you drag your lips through scalding liquid once more, staring at him unabashedly.

"What?"  He notices - of course he does - and levels you with what's meant to be a demanding stare.  Perhaps it would be, if not for the way his expression splits in half, suspicious facade giving way to a smile that could only be described as beautiful.  "Soomi-ah, you know it's rude to stare."  And there's that bunny quality, two front teeth standing center stage.

"I'm just glad you're home." 

He scoffs to hide the sudden rouge that colours his cheeks, tinges the tops of his ears.  He's immediately pulling you against his side, careful not to dislodge the cup from your hands.  It's silly, the bashfulness that rises in his chest and settles like an unfamiliar weight on his shoulders. 

Jeon Jungkook was many things but shy wasn't one of them - not really. 

He'd grown into his long limbs and wicked smile, frighteningly aware of the effect he had on most people.  He'd learnt to command it, switch it on and off so quickly it'd cause whiplash.  Gone was the timid fifteen year-old, replaced by a larger than life idol with a pouty mouth and a body that could make you cry.

But that was only out there - to them, the people who loved him and his hyungs unconditionally. 

Here, with you, he was just Kookie. Even if you rarely used the nickname now. 

(You said it didn't belong to just you two anymore, and he supposed that was true.  He wasn't just yours anymore.)

"I'm always just a phone call away," he murmurs into the top of your head.  He's said it once and he'll say it again, even if you don't believe him.  He knows it's just your stubborn nature that keeps you rooted in place, refusing to take up any more space in his life.  He also knows you'd call if you really needed him.  You always did.

You nod, the only indication you've heard him.  You know, you know. 

"Your car's here."  

It's like the ending to a bittersweet fairytale - the strike of a clock at midnight. 

He squeezes you a little tighter and you allow yourself to loop an arm around his impossibly small waist, gently squeezing his hip.  Then he's gone, taking the steps two at a time as he bounds down to meet the sleek black sedan.  You're not sure who's in the driver's seat - whether it's one of the boys or a manager or someone else entirely - but you catch the way a hand pops out of the window.  A quick wave.  Someone you know, then. 

Right before Jungkook steps into the passenger seat, he's waving as well, wrist flailing like he's boneless.  "I'll see you later!"  He calls, disappearing inside and behind the shadow of a tinted glass.  You wonder if he even hears you when you call out.

"Bye, Bunny."

 "She's back home."  There's surprise lacing the rich baritone, turning the statement into a question as soon as Jungkook has slid across supple leather.

The younger man hums, slotting his backpack between his knees.  "Yeah, recently."  He doesn't offer anything more as he cards a hand through his hair and shifts to recline fully into the seat.  He's ready to head back to the complex and take a long hot shower and prepare for the day.  Hopefully there'll be something to eat, considering how early it is.  He's sure Seokjin will have whipped something up.

"We weren't sure where you ran off to so quickly but Yoongi-hyung had an idea."  

"Why would Yoongi-hyung think I was there?"  Jungkook doesn't have time to catch himself before the his words are rolling off his tongue, seemingly held by a string that furrows his brow.  He ignores the way Taehyung's own raise, disappearing into his carefully styled fringe.  

"They talk, you know."  Whatever sixth sense the elder has seems to drive him to continue his first though, molasses heavy on his tongue in an effort to smooth whatever feathers he's ruffled.  "We all do.  She's our friend, too."  A moment of silence as he rolls to a stop, nodding politely at the halmoni that is helped across the street by what he assumes is her grandson.  "Yoongi-hyung said she'd been sad lately, so he figured you'd want to see her as soon as we got back."

Jungkook isn't sure what the emotion clawing up his throat is or why it feels like bile and envy, licking acid over his vocal chords.  He doesn't even realize he's holding tension in a vice grip until he's loosening his hand, little crescent moons dug into the soft flesh of his palm.

He shouldn't be jealous.  He doesn't really even think he is jealous.

Hurt, maybe.  That makes more sense.

"Oh."  He wonders if it comes off poorly.  By the way Taehyung shifts in his periphery, he's sure it does.  

So he clears his throat and offers a contrite smile.  These are his hyungs, his best friends, his brothers.  He knows better.  He thinks you'd reprimand him if you caught him like this.  You'd tell him they were your friends, too, and that you could never have enough people who loved you.  You'd make a point about ARMY, about the people who've raised thousands of dollars in his name and wrote you letters thoughtful enough to make you breakdown.  He'd have to agree.

An abundance of love was the best problem to have.

"She's coming by later,"  Jungkook relents, lolling his head to the side as he speaks.

Taehyung beams, boyishly handsome and relieved by the melting tension.  Long fingers tap the stirring wheel as gears turn in his head.  He hasn't seen you in forever - ages longer than his maknae - and he can't help but imagine the ease with which you'll slot back into their lives.  Even if only for a little while.

"Great.  Let's keep it a surprise."

notes.   i realized i haven't been proofreading anything so i apologize for any mistakes littered through past chapters. i'm going to start planning out future ones so hopefully there will be more rhyme and reason moving forward. @-@ 

this chapter was heavily inspired by eric nam's "how'm i doing". https://youtu.be/D46_enlxfP8

[twisted-nox-sidus]

Hello there, I’ve just read your headcannon of Strix trolling the Octavinelle trio. LOL. Thank you for the laughs. Since April fool’s day is coming. If you have the time, can you do a scenario where Strix trolls the other dorms with the help of her dream eaters. If you can include Malleus, it’s okay. If not, I understand. Thank you and stay safe.

Anon continued: Hi there, during my previous post, I was asking whether or not Malleus would join Strix’s trolling in trolling the other dorms since April Fools is coming. Oh! I almost forgot, can Grim and Lilia join with Strix in trolling. Thank you and have a good day or night.

Oof, doing six other dorms is a lot in one post, so I’ll keep things condensed, hence the headcanon format (sorry if you really wanted a scenario version!). I see Malleus and Lilia as types to watch for entertainment than directly take part in it. Strix left Grim out of her plans since he himself is chaotic already. It was time for her to assume the lead and let it out, at least for the day.

It’s come to my attention that I like doing headcanons of Strix and her dream eaters, so I plan on doing more headcanons/scenarios involving the pesky but cute spirits. They don’t stop here so look forward to it! Happy April Fool’s~

Heartslabyul

Heartslabyul could handle strange things more so than any other dorms. Just not anything against the crimson tyrant’s 810 rules.

“WHO PAINTED THE ROSE MAZE BLUE?!!!”

Riddle’s face fumes as red as his hair. Not a single trace of red is found! There was only blue as far as the eye can see.

Deuce, Trey, and Cater were rendered speechless by the sight. Just...wow. They’re not even dreading the culprit’s fate at Riddle’s mercy; instead they’re impressed with the feat. Such commitment!

Meanwhile Ace was resisting from bursting in a fit of laughter. That madwoman actually did it! She even casually remarked about doing such a feat but no one had paid her words seriously. Bravo! Bra-freaking-vo!

Ah, speaking of...

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face, Strix! You must be begging for your head to roll! This is defying the Queen of Hearts herself! Repaint every single rose -by yourself- until all is red!”

“Sheesh, let’s not get a rage stroke. You’re still so young...” Strix nonchalantly yawns. “I wanted to surprise you so I spent the whole night painting every rose blue. Of course, I had a helping hand with me.”

She vaguely gestured to the dream spirit hiding behind her leg. Me Me Bunny’s ears act as another pair of hands, and this cutie is quite dextrous; it also knows “bun fu”.

“Oh you surprised me all right. [Surprise] is only an understatement!”

A sigh. “You don’t get it, Riddle. Think of it this way. Blue makes the red stand out. Then the only red rose we’ll see...is you, my queen.”

She leans forward to slip a strand of Riddle’s velvet red locks between her fingers and graze her lips on them. Her half-lidded bright blue eyes gaze into his steel gray pair. Perhaps she was still under the drowsy spell to comprehend what she was doing, though a part of her was knowingly teasing.

Riddle stared wide-eyed. His cheeks flushed in a different meaning this time.

She pulls back to give space and turns the other way.

“Plus, contrary to your words, I think you actually like my surprise. It’s certainly not boring. And it’ll only be for today.”

Strix flashed a lazy grin his way.

“Happy April Fool’s~”

Savanaclaw

Strix’s dream eaters are quirky, adorable, and colorful spirits. Jack often questions their capabilities. What can little prey do to the brawny hotheads of Savanaclaw?

A lot.

One day Strix was on patrol. Jack had been keeping an eye as she works part-time as the “cleaner” of Savanaclaw. Just how much power can she draw from these familiars? It was a test for Strix to see if she can meet the standards of a respectable magician in this academy.

Meanwhile Ruggie anticipates something interesting will happen. Strix’s dream eaters are an enigmatic force to reckon with. He himself certainly doesn’t plan on confronting them since that’s not what he signed up for as vice dorm leader.

The hyena snickered his trademark laugh. What mayhem will the prefect student do?

Strix had to break up a fight for the nth time this week. Things happened, and one of the students said something that forced Strix to deal her hand.

Instead of commanding her eagle and hawk to attack, she summoned a single chubby cat/dog hybrid with stubby legs. It doesn’t look like a clever beast.

Aww, look at it roll around and paw at air for affection while its pink tongue stuck out. They’re going to die of cuteness.

Strix blankly stared ahead. “Meow Wow... Balloon.”

Said spirit stood on all four legs and stopped wagging. Every onlooker watched as it inflated in size. It continued to grow and grow until no one could see the light of day. It was then everyone thought it’d be wise to run from immediate vicinity.

However it was too late when Meow Wow deflated in puffy smoke and sparkles, drowning its victims along with the plume of clouds.

Jack and Ruggie watched from a platform above where they could see the area in action.

“Magic familiar tamers have unique strengths...” Was what Jack concluded. A hawk and eagle’s cries pierce the sky.

Ruggie rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s be real; in this world, birds are a real hassle. As long as you don’t make an enemy of them...”

Strix was already gone by the time Meow Wow inflated. Her eagle dream spirit now willingly massive in size acted as her glider and transporter. Strix’s body dangled as she clung tightly to her Eaglider’s talons until it settled her on the balcony of a dorm room. Eaglider flew to patrol elsewhere alongside Halbird, the hawk dream eater.

Sitting on a chair was Leona playing with a chess piece in his hand. A chessboard was already set up on the table, the black side facing him.

“Enjoying your job, aren’t you.”

Strix allowed a sheepish smirk. She’s not exactly proud to engage in cleaning up people’s messes, but there’s the thrill she finds in it. “To be honest, yeah. I think I might be a sadist at this point...” She mumbled under her breath and continued, “Sorry for the wait. Let’s start.”

Scarabia

“Jamil, a rainbow fish is swimming through the skies!”

“Nonsense. There are no aquatic animals in Scarabia. You probably just saw a magic carpet.”

“Then how come no one told me magic carpets can shoot lasers??”

Before Jamil can decipher whatever the hell Kalim meant by that, the sapphire blue skies turned murky. No, that wasn’t the work of clouds.

To everyone’s bewilderment, they bared witness to a school of colorful fish roaming freely through the air and above the whole dormitory aimlessly.

Lasers shoot from their mouths and make contact with the other to cause sparks to erupt in colorful fireworks. So that’s the laser part...

Kalim’s eyes sparkled. “It’s like the aquariums at Octavinelle, but airborne! *gasp* I just got a great idea for the next party!”

“For the nth time Kalim no more parties this month!”

*whistle* “Fin Fatale’s actually enjoying this. Who’d knew?”

The two boys turn to see Strix approaching them causally.

Strix grinned. “Bet you don’t see this in Scarabia often.”

Pomefiore

Pomefiore students have a tendency to look into a mirror at almost any given opportunity. They recognize every detail of their their highly bestowed beauty, lest they would fail to maintain perfection.

Imagine their surprise when a carbon copy of themselves suddenly replaces their reflection, except in a horrendous eye-burning color palette that screams “clown”

Turns out the copy really is a clown creature with a large tongue. Jestabocky simply loves to prank people at the expense of their reactions, and it took a liking to Pomefiore students.

Strix giggled in amusement, much to Vil’s chagrin. Standing next to the man was a Vil duplicate, except in that hideous orange carrot and lemon yellow palette that made his eyes want to bleed. Of course no one could ever compare to the original, especially a circus mimic at that.

Rook was examining his blood red and ice blue carbon copy. What a refreshing change of pace! “Your dream eaters never cease to amaze, little owl.” “Don’t hunt them for sport though!”

Epel was staring at his clone awkwardly. Cotton candy hair and yellow eyes are an odd combination. And would it stop grinning uncharacteristically like that? It’s freaky.

Strix looks beside her. Teal green hair, violet eyes, and an orange to yellow uniform color scheme. It’s horrendous, but that’s where the fun lies. Her dream eaters don’t know the meaning of color coordination.

Ignihyde

Strix thinks a surprise here and there in the shut-in dorm leader’s life ought to keep him on his toes. She knows how much Ortho wants him to come out his room, and so she’ll deliver just that.

Idia recieved an alert message as he was browsing the net. A window pops up displaying the security camera footage across the entire Ignihyde dorm.

To his horror, rainbows invaded the cameras everywhere he looked. In each one there was a massive bipedal colorful panda doing something to the students behind the screen. One was lifting a student to the air, another swinging and cradling, and others generally giving bear hugs to any soul -dead or living- that enter their vision.

Though the pandas are harmless and students are unharmed (some seem to enjoy it while others are bewildered in shock), Idia was quaking in his chair. If he walks out the room he’ll be crushed by the pandas’ mercy! (And by rainbows and cuteness!)

He zoomed in one of the footages. A Kooma Panda held a sign directly to the camera.

[YOU’RE NEXT]

This is nightmare fuel! Nightmares, he tells you!

Just as he spun around to hide and cower in the safety of his blankets, he had failed to notice the looming shadow over his flaming head prior to this very moment.

There was the same panda. In his bedroom. Staring right into his soul.

It smiled. (I reread this part and lowkey I realized I was writing a FNaF fanfic for a moment wut)

Idia wheezed. How did it get here?! Was it capable of teleporting?!

The shut-in had never ran for the door to the outside world with such eagerness in his life up to now. He slammed the door open and was about to hit the breeze when suddenly he recognized Strix standing right in front of him.

He practically tackled the poor girl (oof). Just when he dreads the contact with the floor, he felt something bouncy push them off. And then the same bouncing source came from behind. Now he’s squeezed between something.

The world spun in his eyes. Light-hearted laughter snapped him out of his trance. His soul actually came close to leaving him the moment Strix’s face registered in his vision. So close!

Two Kooma Pandas were hugging and nuzzling the two in a human-dream eater sandwich. Awww.

From the sidelines, Ortho watched in awe. That’s one way to bring his big bro out of the room. He eagerly joins in the hug fest with Strix and an all-too drained Idia.

Strix giggled and wrapped her arms around Idia and the panda behind him. She was clearly enjoying this. “Happy April Fools~”

Diasomnia

First things first: Strix can’t fool two all mighty and powerful faeries. Instead, she’ll entertain them like she and her dream eaters have always done. After all, boredom is their kind’s biggest enemy.

One day, Diasomnia students were walking down the halls when they notice a colorful bat creature hanging upside down from the ceiling, innocently watching people pass by.

There was one Komory Bat. The next door over there are two. The door after that door appeared three. In front of the dorm gate there may or may not be a bat perched to greet students in and out.

In the library, students are surprised when they’re greeted by the librarian aid...who was working upside down and levitating with gravity magic.

Strix casually acts as though it was natural. When she had to move away from the counter she continued walking upside down on the ceiling. If the ceiling was too high she’d float over just above people’s heads, and address when needed.

Strix likes to mess with Sebek by doing a “handstand” on his broad shoulders while talking to Silver. Sebek would shoo her off and when he does, Strix still pesters him by floating with a mocking haughtiness behind the way she rocks back and forth while grinning mischievously. The sight is hilarious, much to Sebek’s chagrin.

She can see why Lilia likes doing this. By the end of the day though, that’s enough walking on ceilings for the year.

Strix greets Malleus at eye level. “How’d you like it? Not boring, right?”

The horned fae chuckled. The glimmer of accomplishment in her stunning blue eyes amuses him the most. Like a child who proudly boasts their little achievements to appeal to their parents. It was adorable. “Certainly.”