#'caring person' I guess is *kind* of accurate but only toward a select handful of people

[dranza]

Tarot

Draco x Reader

Word count: 2232

Draco bumps into you in the slytherin common room, late at night. You both find yourself opening up to each other. I just think its cute man.

Warnings: Parent struggles. If there is anymore please let me know!

Glancing at the clock on the wall I realise it's now half past twelve in the morning. I had officially spent over four hours painting my tarot cards, procrastinating from doing my homework is officially one of my skills. Sighing, I slide the card I was working on over to the edge of the table to dry. I then reach for a mint leaf from my pocket and slide it into my mouth, the taste takes me back to being a child and playing in the manor gardens with my Nanny. I'm clearing up my paints as I hear footsteps coming into the hall that leads to the slytherin common room. Scrambling, I hide the paints under the table and pretend to fall asleep over the charms book I was meant to be reading. Recently, Pansy had been taking her prefect duties a little too seriously and had busted me for being out of my dorm room too many times now. I could easily wind her up and make her leave me alone but tonight I just didn't have the energy to hear her rattle on about how ‘we aren't meant to hang in the common room outside of curfew times’. The thing is, I’ve always been a night owl and not wanting to wake up the other girls in my room, I've made a habit of coming down to the common room to have some alone time. 

“Stop being so pathetic, I know you're not asleep y/n” Draco announces in a chuckle as he walks in front of the table I'm at. 

“Oh, what do you want Draco?” I lift my head to look at the white haired boy towering over me.

“Don’t worry, I'm not here to kick you out.” He pulls at a stool with his foot and sits opposite me, picking an apple from the bowl on the side table “I was just coming to pick up a snack. What are you doing awake at this hour anyway?” 

I lift a paintbrush from under the table in response. “I don't even know where to start on the charms essay so I thought I'd add to my collection instead.”

He places his elbows onto his knees and leans closer to the three cards I had set on the edge of the table. “These are pretty good, I didn't know you could paint.” 

“I didnt realise I had to inform you of everything I do.”

Draco huffs contempt, tilting his head a little “fair enough.”

“What are you doing awake?” I ask as I lift my wand and clean my paint brushes.

“Just finished the reading for potions class” he takes a bite from his apple and lifts the middle card.

A confused giggle escapes my mouth and I tease “I didn't know Draco Malfoy actually cared about his grades.”

Under his breath (more to himself than to me) he whispers “my parents would probably kill me if I didn’t.” Switching to a smirk, he echoes my words back to me “Well, I didn’t realise I had to inform you of everything I do.” He places the card back onto the table and drags the subject back to me “anyway, everything you need for the charms paper is in the fourth and fifth chapter.”

“Ah, thankyou.” I open up the charms book to the suggested chapters and place in a book mark. I stretch out my legs and lean back onto the sofa behind me, sitting on the floor for so long has made my legs go dead. “So, do you want me to do a reading?” 

Dracos body stiffens slightly, and he straightens his back. “I don't think so, it's not very accurate anyway is it?” His thin fingers pick at his loose black pajama bottoms for fluff that wasn't there. 

He clearly was one of the people who thought divination wasn’t actual magic. Back at Durmstrang, divination was such a popular subject that I was shocked when I came to England and saw so many columns popping up in The Daily Prophet about it just being a hoax. “Oh, for goodness sake Draco, it is accurate if it's done correctly. One card wont hurt you. Also, accurate or not, at least I'll get some practice.” I offer an encouraging smile.

“Please... my father says it's purely based on chance and calculated guessing. I don't imagine you'll be very good if you've had Trelawney teaching you anyway, the woman is out of her mind.” he says in a huff, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“One card?” I lift my eyes to meet his and pout in an exaggerated way.

He cocks a brow and flashes a look at the cards “one.”

I sit up instantly, leaning to the chair that I dumped my bag on earlier that night and pull out a full tarot deck. I clear the table, shuffle the cards and spread them upside down in a row. “What do you want to know?” 

“Errr,” he squeezes his eyes shut and sways his head trying to think of a question. “What do I need to focus more on right now?” he asks unsurely. 

I smile softly at him, surprised that he actually asked a decent question. “Perfect, now just really concentrate on that question and pick the card you're most drawn to.” He seems to hesitate a bit so I add “Don't think too deeply about it, just go with your instinct.”

He lets out a loud breath as he bows over the table to be closer to the cards. With a single finger he slides a card out slightly from the deck and then sits back, looking down at me tentatively.

Sitting on my knees, I take the card he selected and flip it over. 

“The magician? Really? What may this suggest y/n? Well, we're at school and maybe I need to focus on my magic skills.” he word vomits in such a patronizing manner I resist the urge to punch him.

“Will you just shut up Malfoy! Let me concentrate…” 

He lets out a sharp nose exhale but obeys.

“I think it suggests you have an opportunity to right a wrong, it's something you've been putting off but you finally have all the tools you need to be able to make it happen.” I look away from the card to him but his gaze is locked to his hands now. “This has really been weighing down on you, hasn't it? You just need to focus and manifest on the outcome. Is it… is it to do with your father?”

“What?” he lifts his head in a sharp movement at my final question. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I told you this is all a load of rubbish. I'm heading back to bed.” He throws his half eaten apple into the bin. “As should you, we have potions first thing tomorrow and I doubt Snape will let you nap in class.”

“I’m sorry Draco…” I break, realising I had touched a nerve. “You don't have to answer me. Don't just… you don't have to leave.”

He runs his fingers through his messy white hair. “I just… well, I’d just rather not focus on that right now.”

 Draco’s father (Lucius Malfoy) is meant to be having his final hearing, for conspiring with Voldemort, this weekend and whispers all about the Malfoy family have been wandering through every hall at Hogwarts. Last year Voldemort had tried to take over the wizarding world and Draco (much to his parents' alarm) had apparently joined Harry Potter in destroying the horcruxes. Still, everyone was questioning his intentions. He has been putting on a brave face but it's obvious he's been more reserved since the news broke out.

“That's ok.” I try a sympathising smile. “I get it, I’m not trying to pry.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one then.” he says with a sigh.

I look around to try and change the subject, “what's your favourite colour?” I blurt out. I sink inwardly, was this really the best I could come up with.

Draco smiles, raising a brow. “Black.” he states confidently. 

“Ha, dytto.” I pick at the dry paint on my hands. “It reminds me of ink... and wolves... and outer space.”  

 “Yes, that. Also,  you always look great when you wear black” Draco chuckles softly. “Well, I mean not you personally. Although… I'm sure you also do look great in black. But I mean generally, no one can ever… really go wrong if they’re dressed in black.” A blush creeps up his face as he stammers over his words.

A funny little giggle escapes me as I watch him, a similar pink tinting my face. “I know what you mean.” I nudge his arm slightly, noticing his all black pajamas. “I think there’s still a certain skill in pulling off a black outfit though.” 

Draco picks up one of my paint pots and twists it in his hand, trying to look at anything but me, his blush deepening. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“You know, I would have pinned you more as a bright pink kind of guy myself.” I kick myself for trying to be funny but it lifts his nervousness. 

“Not quite.” His laugh is deep and sensual, sending a warm fuzziness through my body. 

“Do you ever paint?” I ask, signally to the pot in his hand. 

“No. I’ve never done any intricate stuff like this anyway.” he gestures to my cards. “These really are quite amazing.”

“Thankyou.” I try not to stare at his face as he studies my work, but the candle light bouncing off his eyelashes and his soft, bottom lip kind of tucking under his teeth is making it very difficult. “To be honest, I don’t really like them.”

“What? Why?” he shoots at me.

“It’s not very neat around here…” I point at the first card, I’d spent half an hour trying to get the shading right on the bricks of the tower earlier tonight. “And her hair just looks like a wig.” My finger grazes the back of Draco’s hand as I point to the Empress card.

“No it doesn't, plus no one else would notice these things you’re bothering about” 

“My mother will.” Quietly correcting myself, I add “would.” I clear my throat lightly to continue “And she would definitely reveal a few more mistakes as well.” I take in a long breath and rub my eyes. “I know this sounds terrible but sometimes I think it's not so bad that she's gone.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry, I… I didn't know.” He stretches his arm across the table towards me but stops just before his hand touches. “Are you OK?” 

“Yeah, I was never really close to her anyway.” I sadly shrug. I realise I’ve never told anyone else any of this. I'm clearly over-tired. 

“And your father?”

“He died when I was 3, I don't remember him. It’s why I’ve had to move here after my mum passed, Uncle Filius is the only member of my family that would take me in.” 

Draco questions in surprise “So it’s true. You are Professor Flitwick's niece?”

“The one and only.” I give him a side smile. 

“Hmmh, well, I know this means nothing… but I don’t think it's all that terrible that you don't feel bad you mother is gone. Sometimes parents aren’t as perfect as they seem.” Draco clicks his fingers and continues, “As you probably know, I’m meant to be meeting my dad this weekend. I have no idea how to explain myself to him. The last time...” Draco stops abruptly at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Two 3rd year students walk in carrying a whole load of sweets whispering to each other in rapid conversation. Draco swiftly stands and informs them that they cannot be out of their dorms so late. They try to oppose but after a stern look from the tall, blonde-haired prefect they give in and return. He takes a second before turning back to me and saying “I think we both ought to go back to our beds as well, it has gotten quite late.”

I look up at him confused, “don't you want to finish what you were saying?”

He shakes his head while holding out a hand to me. “Maybe another time. I’m guessing this won't be the last time we bump into each other, here at this hour.”

I accept his tight grip and with a strong motion he lifts me from the ground. ���No, I hope not anyway. This was nice.” I squeeze his hand gently before letting it go and picking up my things. 

His hand combs through his thick hair as he smiles shyly “It was.” He waits as I pick up the last of my books and we walk out together. As we get to the end of the hallway he stops and looks down at me, “are you sure you don't need help taking that stuff up?” I shake my head and with that he yawns. “Well then… good night y/n.” 

“Goodnight Draco.” I glance back as I’m walking up to my room and catch his eyes looking back at me. He instantly pulls his gaze away and for some reason I feel a little disappointed. Goodness me, was I really forming a crush on the Draco Malfoy?

Im writing a few different one shots that can be read on their own or in order for a full story. Here’s the masterlist!

[harryhooksgazebos267]

Broken Trust~ Part Five

Paring: Bang Chan x reader; Mark Tuan x reader(arranged marriage)

Genre: Mafia au, angst, little bit of everything honestly

Warnings: Cursing, mafia life and shizzle

MASTERLIST

“Y/n.”

........

“Y/nnnnnnn”

.........

“Maybe she’s dead?”

“Jisung shut the fuck up, why are you even here?”

“Hey don’t talk to my Jisung like that!”

“You can shut the fuck up too hoe.”

“Changbin, Jisung, and Minho will the three of you stop acting like children? You guys shouldn’t even be here.”

“Ah Chan losen up a bit, we’re just messing around. Right guys,” Jisung said while pulling Changbin into a choke hold.

“What did I just say? Now leave!”

“But she could wake up any minute and we-“

“I said leave!”

With a sigh, all three boys left reluctantly. Muttering out smart remarks and little complaints. Chan sat down in a chair that was infront of yours. You currently were knocked out and tied to chair in Stray Kids basement.

“I swear, one of these days I’m gonna kill one of them,” he mumbled to himself while rubbing his head. He loved all of his main members but goddamn they got on his nerves sometimes. All of a sudden, you began to stir.

“Ah so the princess is finally waking up,” he thought to himself as he sat up straight in his chair, leaning forward a little.

Your head was beating heavily and your mind was foggy. You couldn’t quite remember what had happened before you woke up and your state of confusion was obvious. You see, Chan had set the chair up where he was in the dark so that you wouldn’t immediately see him. Was it extra? Yes but in his mind it was kind of badass.

“Where the fuck am I?” You whispered to yourself as you began to look around at the unfamiliar room.

“Isn’t it obvious where you’re at?” A voice suddenly boomed out which you recognized right away. Everything began to come back to you.

“Chan,” you hissed out as his figure stalked towards you.

“The one and only”, he mocked which caused you to roll your eyes.

“Why am I here?”

“Ah come on y/n, I know you’re a smart girl! You know why you’re here. Why don’t we talk about something else, something far more interesting.”

“Whatever, I don’t know why I’m here but pop off I guess.”

Chan’s jaw clenched at that.

“Moving on, I want to make a deal with you. I believe it’ll be beneficial to both parties.”

“I’m listening I guess.”

“You see, I have very good sources in JYP that have been extremely useful and helpful to my, no, Stray Kids plans. However, there are some missing pieces that I’m almost positive you have. If you were to cooperate 100% and the information you give us is accurate, I promise you I’ll-“

Chan’s speech was cut off by a hiccup.

“Yo that’s so damn embarrassing,” you laugh out as his cheeks turn a light shade of red.

“Hey it’s not *hiccup* funny.”

“Bro you cannot tell me that isn’t funny. “Oh I’m the king of serious and I’m getting down to business but oh no my long important speech that I’ve been planing for years gets cut off by a tiny little hiccup”. Seriously, you don’t find that a little funny?”

At this point you were in tears laughing so hard. Was it really that funny? No but in stressful, serious situations, everything is 100000% funnier.

“Stop laughing, it’s not even that funny,” he said while lowkey trying not to laugh at the situation. You were right, it was kind of funny. If he was in your shoes he would be laughing to.

“Okay, okay I’m done. Woo my stomach hurts. Anyway; carry on with your monologue.”

“As I was saying, if you can give me reliable information, I’ll let you go. No harm will come to you and everyone wins in the end.”

“You can’t be serious? Everyone wins in the end?”

“Yes, everyone does. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I’m not going to turn on my future father-in-laws mafia. That doesn’t even make sense Chan.”

He paused for a moment, deep in thought.

“When are you getting married?” He suddenly asked, catching you off guard.

“Well that was random.”

“Just answer the question, I don’t need your commentary.”

You let out a loud breath as you looked away from him.

“Does it even matter? I don’t get why you wanna know.”

Chan stayed silent at that.

“Well if really want to know, our fathers haven’t selected an exact date. They’re thinking sometime in early October.”

“Oh happy birthday to me,” he laughed out bitterly while shaking his head.

You didn’t really know what to say. If you had it your way, you wouldn’t even be marrying Mark.

“Do you love him?” Chan tried to ask nonchalantly but you could tell it bothered him to ask.

“I....I don’t know. I mean he’s not hard on the eyes and deep down I know he cares for me but sometimes he-“

“Cares for you? He doesn’t care for you! None of them do! They’re all selfish, greedy men who will do anything in their power to do what’s best for themselves. They would kill you in the blink of an eye if they thought it would get them further in life,” he yelled.

“Oh what and you’re any better? You’re just as bad as them!”

“I am nothing close to being like those assholes!”

“You’re apart of the mafia, what do you mean you’re not close to being like them? And are you just gonna ignore what you did to me? You left me. For two fucking years you left me. Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep, thinking the guy that I loved was dead? Then suddenly you just decide to come back like it’s no big fucking deal, kidnap me, then have the nerve to tell me that Mark doesn’t care for me when you haven’t been here. What would you even know? Just because he doesn’t always say it, doesn’t mean he’s a selfish prick who wouldn’t care if I lived or died. So don’t act like you know everything.”

“Why are you defending him when you don’t even love him?”

“I never said I don’t love him.”

“You just said you didn’t know!”

“But I never said I don’t!”

Chan and you were both breathing hard as your tempers began to rise.

“Did you ever even love me?” Chan asked with a look of disgust on his face.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I did! I was going to marry you, why the fuck would I agree to that if I didn’t love you?”

Chan began to pace back and forth while rubbing his face in his hands.

“I guess it was one sided though,” You muttered out causing him to stop dead in his tracks.

“What did you just say?” He questioned in a low voice.

“You heard me, why should I repeat myself?”

“You know what, maybe it was one sided but I sure as hell wasn’t the one who didn’t love the other one. I wasn’t the one who went and got engaged the second the other person was out of the picture.”

“What the hell are you talking about? First of all, you’re acting like it was my choice when it wasn’t. Second of all, we literally didn’t get engaged until this year. You couldn’t have expected me to stay single for the rest of my life Chan, I thought you were dead. And you know what, speaking of being dead, I wasn’t the one who faked their own damn death!”

“The only reason I faked my death was because of you!”

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. Why would he fake his death because of you?

“What?”

“Whatever, I don’t want to have this conversation anymore,” he huffed out while moving his chair from the dark into the dim lighting and sat right in front of you.

“You can’t just say that and not elaborate on what you mean!”

“Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that but today isn’t that day.”

“But-“

“Enough y/n, I’m not going to say what you want to hear so just drop it.”

You both sat in silence for a bit, the weight of the argument taking a toll on the both of you.

“Now, back to what we were discussing before. What I had in mind is, you could call Mark and tell him that we asked you to join Stray Kids. Just make up some story that I still love you and want to be with you blah blah, you get the point. So then you tell him that you agreed but in reality it’s just an act and you’re trying to get information out of us and you’ll report back to them with made up shit. I was thinking you could also talk to Red Velvet, Twice, GOT7, NCT, whoever you want and try to get information out of them but casually, you know? Like hey ummmm Sana, how’s it going? Oh, you plan on doing this super secret mission to get some super secret information? Oh cool, I will do nothing with this news and I sure won’t tell Stray Kids any of this teehee.”

“Teehee? Really?”

“That’s not the point. The point is you give them fake information, they give you real stuff in return, I don’t kill you, and everyone wins. I think it’s a great plan,” he stated with a shrug.

“Right yeah no I still don’t get how I win in this situation.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me leaving.”

“Wait are you serious?” You asked as you tried to lean forward, forgetting your arms were tied behind your back.

“Yeah I guess but I won’t answer them all at once and I don’t plan on exposing anything juicy just yet. Patient is a virtue,” he joked with a wink.

“You’re so damn weird. You were just breathing heavy like a bull who saw red and now you’re cracking jokes?”

Chan just gave you a little shrug.

“So, do we have a deal or not?”

TAG LIST (feel free to send me an ask if you would like to be added to the tag list or if you would like me to send a private message everytime I update <3): @elenaramos1​

Part six

MASTERLIST

[spaceskam]

i’m a free spirit, that means free from you

i wrote a fic awhile ago about Michael exploring his sexuality. Now that it’s day 6 of @alexmanesappreciation (lost decade/missing scenes), it felt fitting for it to be Alex’s turn!

Warning: internalized homophobia and unhealthy relationships

ao3

.First Kiss.

“Oh, c’mon Alex, she likes you.”

Alex tried to smile as Kyle pestered him after they snuck out of their cabin and started wading through the woods. Summer camp was fine and all, but the longer he stayed there the higher the chances were that he was going to get in trouble. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to get in trouble for. It was just this stupid thing in his head that told him to be good, act normal, stop that.

They got louder every single time one of the other boys got too close to him when they were in their swim trunks.

“Yeah, but Katie? She’s not my type,” Alex said, mimicking what he’d heard his brother Greg say about the nice girl that was in the band at the high school. She made him cookies, wore a lot of stuff with skulls on them, and introduced him to a cool band called Blink-182. She stopped coming around after Greg told her she wasn’t his type.

“Type?” Kyle laughed, “She’s a girl! She’s got boobs!”

Alex tried to remind himself that he was supposed to like that even though he didn’t quite understand why.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Alex said, nodding. 

They reached the riverbank where the rest of their friends‒or, really, Kyle’s friends‒had congregated, sneaking out after the counselors had gone to their own party for the night. It was ten of them in total, five from the boys side of camp and five from the girls. Alex didn’t even want to sneak out, really scared of what would happen if someone found out, but Kyle had grabbed his arm and begged him and he just said yes.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Katie said, making sure to look right at Alex as she said so. He instinctively looked to Kyle, hoping he would be on his side and say no.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Kyle said, agreeing like the rest of the guys and girls. Alex was the only one who didn’t want to, but he couldn’t be the only one who didn’t want to. That’s how you get people to make fun of you.

So they all sat down and the game just started. Everyone was being dumb, daring dumb things that Alex thought were stupid. He was the only one that kept saying truth and, even then, they weren’t anything fun and then he couldn’t come up with anything good and it just wasn’t fun. He kept looking to Kyle, kept trying to signal to him that this wasn’t fun, but it didn’t seem to click.

“Alex, truth or dare,” Katie said, eyes on him. She was pretty, she was. She had pretty hair and a pretty face and... boobs or something. But every time she looked at him, he got a little nervous. 

“Truth,” he said again. Everyone immediately started complaining.

“You can’t keep saying truth!” Wyatt told him, “It’s no fun, you’re ruining the game.”

“Yeah, Alex, just say dare,” Kyle pressed. Alex glared at him for a second before sighing and slumping his shoulder. What could one dare do? Kyle had already drank river water.

“Fine,” he agreed, “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me,” Katie said. Everyone around them ooh’d and Alex felt straight up terrified for a moment. He was a kid, he was way too young to be kissing anyone. Thirteen was way too young, didn’t they know that. 

“In front of everybody?” Alex asked, voice cracking. She rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“No, silly,” she said and he almost sighed in relief. Almost. “In the woods.”

Another round of ooh’s surrounding him and making him feel like he had literally no fucking choice in the matter. He knew that if he tried to tell them he didn’t want to, they’d make fun of him. He knew if he asked for a different dare, they’d make fun of him. And, at the end of the day, it was just a kiss. Why not get the first one over with anyway?

Alex did what he was told and stood up. He and Katie went into the woods, just out of the line of sight of the rest, and then they just stood there. She was a little taller than he was and way too close, smiling at him as wide as she could.

“So...”

“So,” she said, “Kiss me.”

“I-I don’t really know how to,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s easy, you just do this with your lips,” Katie told him, pursing her lips and closing her eyes. And then she waited. Alex just stared at her for a minute until she opened her eyes and looked at him expectantly. “Alex, you gotta do it too.”

“Oh,” he said. And he did. And he kissed her.

It was quick and weird and he understood the whole kissing thing a billion times less than before. But when they separated, she was smiling so big and her face was red. Clearly she’d enjoyed it which had him lost even more. Did something happen that he missed? It just felt weird.

“You’re my boyfriend now, right?” she said. He blinked in confusion.

“Uh...”

“Yay!” Katie said, grabbing his hand and leading him back towards the group.

He wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand and started planning ways to avoid that ever happening again.

.First Crush.

Alex bit down on his thumb nail as he looked around the room, making sure no one would look over his shoulder.

Of course they wouldn’t, he knew that, it was a public library and no one cared, but still. His eyes swept around a couple more times before he realized the more he did that, the more suspicious he looked, so he might as well just do what he came here for.

He gulped harshly and, with shaky hands, clicked the internet icon. Quickly, he typed in how do you know if you’re gay in the search bar. It loaded too slow and it made him look around again as if his dad was going to come out of nowhere. He knew that wasn’t it. He was fifteen now, his dad did let him go to the library by himself. 

He scrolled through all the web pages, skimming the little summary but none of them answered his question. He just needed an answer, he needed someone to tell him. The more people around him called him gay, the less he felt like he understood it. How was he the one being called gay when they were the ones who compared their dicks in the locker room and he didn’t want to be apart of it? How was he the one being gay when he was the only one who looked away during that gross puberty class? How did watching the I Write Sins Not Tragedies music video more than once make someone gay? More importantly, what was so gay about having friends that were girls?

They all threw that word and none of them seemed to make sense. They never called him gay when he accidentally stared too long the first time he got in the locker room with the seniors. They never called him gay when he forgot how to breathe every time Mr. Edwards bent over to pick up a pencil. They never called him gay when he was really interested in watching wrestling. How was he supposed to know when everything seemed so disjointed?

Alex scrolled a little more and saw a link to something labeled ‘Am I Gay? Quiz 100% Accurate’ and, well, he couldn’t help himself.

 Question #1: What do you consider yourself? Straight, Gay, Bisexual, Other

He stared at it with furrowed eyebrows, the cursor hovering over each option maybe a little longer than he should’ve. He eventually settled on straight. He had kissed girls and had girlfriends before even if it wasn’t great, it was still what he’d been doing. That was straight. 

Question #2: In the locker room, did you ever peek over at another guy? Yes seize the opportunity, Yes but out of curiosity, No gross, No but I wanted to

Alex swallowed hard, his stomach churning. The mouse hovered over the first option. But was it like that though? Yes, he had looked, but he wasn’t trying to be gross or anything. He didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. He quickly selected the second option instead.

Question #3: You’re in a relationship with a girl, but you discover that there is a guy who likes you. What do you do? Stay with the girl because you like her, stay with the girl because you feel like you should, never go out with a girl in the first place, break up with the girl for the guy

That one at least felt obvious. Of course he would stay with the girl. What kind of person just breaks up with someone because someone else likes them? That’s just mean. He chose the second option instead of the first and decided not to think too hard about why.

Question #4: Would you ever cheat on a girl with a... girl, guy, I wouldn’t cheat

He smiled at the second no-brainer in a row. He would never cheat. He wasn’t an asshole. 

Question #5: Why are you taking this quiz? I’m bored, I’m confused, I’m gay

Alex stared at it longer than he should’ve. Why was he taking this quiz? Shouldn’t he know these things? It shouldn’t be hard. He should know who he was sexually attracted to, right? He should know. But it wasn’t that fucking easy. He’d met girls who were pretty. Did he want to sleep with them? No, but he hadn’t really met any guys in person that he wanted to sleep with either. It was too much, too confusing.

So, he clicked that he was confusing.

The loading bar stayed on the screen for way too long, but, sure enough, a screen popped up that he was, in fact, straight just a little confused. Which was apparently normal. Alex leaned back, nodding to himself. He was normal.

Alex exited out of the browser and got up, pulling out his iPod from his pocket. He put his headphones over his ears and waved to the nice librarian as he left before pressing play. He felt good, normal, as he walked in time to the MCR song that flooded through his ears towards Bean Me Up. He’d taken a test and even it said he was fine. He’d be fine.

He ordered a coffee and walked to the other side of the counter to wait, leaning against the wall. A smile easily found his face as Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco started flooding into his ears. He found it impossible not to smile when he heard Brendon Urie’s voice. How was someone that fucking talented?

Then everything slowed down as someone appeared outside the window.

The seductive singing only seemed to set the stage as Marcus Lopez, current quarterback at Roswell High, slowed to a stop, breathing heavy and sweating with his workout gear clinging to his brown skin that literally was glowing under the sun. Alex couldn’t fucking breathe as he pulled his shirt up and over his head and used it to wipe his face dry, exposing his toned stomach and flexing his biceps. He pulled a water bottle out of nowhere and poured it into his mouth, some of the water missing and sliding over each crevice of his body. 

Oh.

Oh.

.First Boyfriend.

“What are you playing?”

Alex looked over to the doorway to see Elijah Thibodaux staring at him. He was the senior boy who got the lead in every school musical and every solo in choir. He was talented and every girl in theatre and choir was obsessed with him. Alex, however, kept his appreciation to himself.

“Oh, uh, I wrote it,” Alex admitted, shyly looking back to his guitar. He tried to keep playing so he’d come off as cool, but he was feeling a little flustered. Boys didn’t really talk to him if they could help it and this one boy was not only talking to him, but he was super cute. 

“Musetta’s Waltz.”

“Huh?” Alex asked. Elijah smiled at him and walked further into the music room, straddling the chair beside him.

“That’s Musetta’s Waltz,” Elijah told him, “Not an original.”

Alex stopped playing, embarrassment filling his system. Leave to him to fuck it up the minute he tried to be cool. Elijah just laughed it off though, scooting closer. Alex tried not to seize up as his hand touched his back. Why was a suave senior touching him? What the fuck was that supposed to be mean?

Elijah’s hand slid up to Alex’s shoulder and he looked over at him.

“Go on, play something for me,” Elijah told him, looking at him with those obscenely green eyes and batting those long eyelashes against his pale cheeks. Alex swallowed hard and nodded, looking back down to his guitar. Instinct took over and Alex slowly started strumming the chords to Wonderwall. Elijah moved his hand up to his jaw. “You’re really good.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, looking over at him and trying to remember how to breathe. His strumming got a little sloppy, but it didn’t seem to matter. Elijah just leaned in close, smiling and his eyes flickering down to his lips and back up again. Alex didn’t have time to even process it before he was being kissed.

Alex stared with wide eyes as Elijah pulled away, struggling to comprehend what the hell just happened. It didn’t make any sense. Elijah was gorgeous and desired and Alex was… What?

“You just kissed me,” Alex said blankly. Elijah grinned.

“Yeah.” And then he did it again.

Alex melted at the attention. It was the first time a boy had ever given him so much attention. He had no idea what to even do with it. 

After that, Alex slowly found himself at Elijah’s beck and call. They would make out behind the bleachers and late at night after sneaking out. Elijah flooded him with compliments and only persuaded him a little to send raunchy pictures or do things he wasn’t quite sure about. But it was fine because he was his boyfriend. That’s what you did with boyfriends.

They carried on like that for a few months, all of it secret. Alex wanted to tell Maria and Liz about him a few times, but Elijah said it was a bad idea and he knew it. He loved them but he wasn’t sure they’d be able to keep it a complete secret. And no one could find out about Elijah and him because of his dad.

But it was a couple nights before the spring choir concert when Alex started hearing things about Elijah having a girlfriend. That didn’t make sense to Alex and he was sure it wasn’t real. People must’ve gotten things confused. Elijah was close to a lot of girls, it was bound to happen. Elijah was Alex’s boyfriend. No one else’s. But, still, Alex found himself a little more willing to send more explicit pictures for a couple days just to make sure he still held his attention.

Which didn’t stop him from walking down the hall, hand in hand with a girl on the day of the spring choir concert.

Alex didn’t know how to deal with the pain that flooded his system at the sight. He got irrationally upset and wanted to confront him right there, but he decided to wait. He waited until lunch time and they met up at their usual spot behind the bleachers. That’s where they would kiss and talk and do boyfriend things.

“I saw you with that girl,” Alex said boldly as Elijah went to greet him with a kiss. He had the audacity to be confused and, when he realized Alex was serious, he rolled his eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal. I started talking to Cassie way before I even started talking to you,” Elijah told him. The way he said it made it sound like it made it less mean. It didn’t stop Alex’s heart from breaking. “It’s not the same.”

“What do you mean it’s not the same? You’re cheating on me!”

Elijah sighed, “Don’t be dramatic, it’s not cheating.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Alex, it doesn’t even count. I mean, you’re a guy.”

Alex blinked and swallowed harshly, trying to follow his train of thought. It counted for him. It really, really counted for him. That wasn’t fair.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Alex said softly. Elijah scoffed.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that.”

“No, ‘cause it counts for me. It’s cheating.”

Alex was proud of himself for being man enough to walk away.

Less proud of himself for taking all the way up until Elijah graduated two months later before he stopped answering every time he called.

.First Love.

“You trust me?”

“Um, yes.”

“Then c’mon.”

Alex bit down on his bottom lip as he caved and jumped into the passenger seat of Michael’s truck. They were newly graduated, fresh adults, and everyone was supposed to be going to graduation parties. Of course, Liz wasn’t around anymore and Alex was finding it hard to celebrate when Rosa was dead.

But he still told his dad he was going to one which meant he could sneak off with Michael.

Part of him felt a little guilty for allowing himself even a shred of happiness, but then all he had to do was look at Michael’s fucked hand and he realized nothing really mattered. Soon, he’d be off to basic and he’d have to leave Michael behind. He was going to steal all the happiness he could.

Michael draped his arm around Alex’s shoulders as he drove out to the middle of nowhere and Alex leaned into his side. His head hit his shoulder and his eyes closed, soaking up the closeness of, well, him. He smelled like motor oil since he drove straight from work to graduation. Alex didn’t mind. In fact, he was pretty sure he would miss that smell when he was gone.

Alex tilted his head back to press a kiss to his neck and, from the corner of his eye, saw Michael smile. He had such a gorgeous smile. He was just gorgeous in general with his big, expressive eyes and sunburnt cheeks. Beautiful, kind, caring, what more could someone ask for in a boyfriend?

The truck pulled to a stop in the middle of the desert, far away from where anyone could stumble upon them, much less find them on purpose. It was a comforting thought.

The two of them climbed into the bed of the truck and laid out his sleeping bags to give them some sort of cushion before they laid down. Alex laid directly in his arms and Michael responded with a sweet little hum as they got comfortable.

“So, what’s next?” Alex asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know. Fix up cars, work on ranches, save up money.”

“What happened to UNM?”

Michael was quiet for a moment before he exhaled heavily for a solid ten seconds. Alex tilted his head up to see that he very clearly hadn’t anticipated this conversation. Which was valid. But Alex knew they had limited time together. He wanted to make sure Michael was going to do something good with that big brain of his.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go,” Michael admitted, “Too big of a change all at once.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. “How? Everything’s gonna change already.”

“Yeah, but… At least staying here I have Max and Isobel,” Michael said. Alex lifted his head to meet his eyes. Michael was visibly sad, but he was trying to hide it. He sucked at hiding it. “I don’t know, I’m just not ready.”

“But you’re so smart. What happened to ag? You’ve been wanting to do that since I met you,” Alex pointed out. Michael forced a flirtatious little smile.

“Well, who’s gonna cheer me on when you’re gone?” he teased. But Alex didn’t find it funny.

“Guerin, don’t base your future around me. As much as I would love to be there with you every step of the way, you need to think about it for real. You could be something great, don’t bury yourself in me,” Alex told him, watching his smile fade. It was replaced by a sad bit of understanding.

“I know. I’m just gonna miss you,” he said.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Alex agreed. 

Michael stared at him for a moment before looking away and up towards the sky, no longer making eye contact as he steadied his breathing. Alex knew he didn’t like talking about the future or the fact that Alex was leaving or the idea of growing up. For someone who had no real sense of stability, he hated any type of change. It was confusing and Alex didn’t know how to make him understand that he just wanted what was best for him.

Then it dawned on him that maybe that’s what love really was.

“Hey,” Alex said, gently laying his palm on Michael’s cheek and guiding his sight back to him, “I know it’s going to be weird after I leave and I still want you to do something good with your brain,  but this isn’t forever. I’m coming home. I don’t know when or, or who I’ll be when I do, but I’m gonna come home to you. I promise.”

And that seemed to be good enough for Michael. At least for that night.

.First ‘I Love You’.

“Like it fuckin’ matters? No one in our crew is a queer anyways.”

Alex forced a laugh and focused on his food. As of this morning, DADT was finally gone. Part of him thought he’d feel safer once it was, but he didn’t. The threat was still there. Now he just didn’t have a whole law to keep his self esteem from eating away at itself.

He wanted to shout it from the rooftops that he was here, he was queer, and if anyone had a problem with it, he would show them up. But then people that he hung out with every day, his friends, said things that scared the shit out of him. He knew that, if he came out, they probably wouldn’t actually care and would only require a little bit of reform, but the word probably still kept him in his cage.

“Manes!” Alex lifted his head to Col. Monroe, the man looking slightly more irritated than usual. “Do I need to send you to go hunt down Lawrence or is he on his way? I need to have a talk with him.”

A talk. Alex’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he stood to his feet.

“I’ll go find him, Sir.”

“Good man.”

Alex discarded his tray quickly and headed to Jay’s place on base. His heart was thudding in his chest and slowly began to think this was probably on purpose. Jay Lawrence was a very reckless man and if almost pissing off someone high ranking was what it took to get Alex alone, well, he didn’t put it past him. 

Alex knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. Jay stood at attention just to be safe, his toned body barely restrained by his almost-too-small uniform when he flexed, but he gave a sneaky little smile once he saw Alex. Then he pulled him inside. Once the door was closed, Alex was being kissed so senseless that it took him a moment to forget why he even came in the first place. 

He grabbed Jay’s elbows, breathing him in as he reluctantly pulled away. When he opened his eyes, Jay was just staring at him like he was the best thing to grace the Earth and it was easy to feel flustered by that. Alex wasn’t stupid, he knew Jay liked him more than he liked Jay. But Alex admittedly liked the attention and he definitely liked not feeling so alone, so he said nothing.

“DADT is fucking gone, A,” he said, a weight very clearly thrown off his shoulders, “Like officially. No rumors of it being gone, no vague date, no waiting. It’s gone. We, we could be something for real.”

Alex rubbed his thumb over his forearm, smiling slightly. He was younger than Alex, not by much but by enough. He had a family who loved him, who he was out to and who didn’t mind. They all agreed to keep hush so he could serve his country though. He was so pure and kind. He was way too good for Alex.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Alex teased lightly, sliding his hand up to the side of his neck. He’d never been with a man who was so dark that it made him look so pale in comparison before, but, like always, he found it hard to stop staring. They looked good together, objectively, aesthetically. They could be so good. “People still don’t like it. They were bitching about it in the DFAC.”

“Fuck them, what are they gonna do?” Jay asked, stepping in close again to go for another kiss. Reluctantly, Alex dodged it.

“Monroe sent me to find you. Said he wants to talk to you,” Alex told him. His smile faded just a little.

“Okay, then I’ll go, but don’t change the subject,” Jay said, moving his hands to his hips, “C’mon, let’s talk about it. When can we make it public? Or, just, like stop trying so hard to hide?”

Alex stared at him, trying to find a way to say never. If it got back to his father that he was seeing someone in the Air Force, Jay would be so fucked. His career, his life, his entire self would never be the same if his father had a say. That was difficult to explain, especially to someone who had never met the man. But Alex heard it loud and clear when he first met the General and he said, “Manes? I served with your grandpa. Good man.”

He could never be safe and queer here.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Especially not here, not now,” Alex said softly. Jay’s smile dropped and Alex’s heart ached in its wake.

“A,” Jay said, shaking his head, “You said once DADT was gone, we could‒”

“The stigma is still there. We’ll still be targeted and I don’t want that for you, for either of us.”

“Fuck them!”

“That’s not how this works,” Alex said calmly, “These are people we have to fight beside, you can’t make them hate who you are and you can’t not care what they think.”

“I love you,” Jay said desperately, trying to get him to understand how much he didn’t care about anything else. Alex felt his mouth go dry and his eyes widened. “Look, if it’s that bad, let’s leave when our contract is up. I wanna be with you more than I want to be some fucking war hero.” 

“I…” Alex said, clearing his throat as he took a step back, “I’m not leaving the Air Force. I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.”

“Are you serious, right now?” Jay demanded. The hurt was clear on his face and Alex felt so fucking bad. But it wasn’t an option. “So what was all that shit you told me, huh? Just stuff to keep me around so your dick had something better than your hand?”

Alex didn’t know what to say, so instead he said nothing. Jay shook his head and sniffled and suggested that he leave. So Alex left.

The Colonel ended up telling Jay that his sister, a strong willed woman slowly climbing the ranks in the army, had committed suicide. He left after his term was up.

Alex thought about him more than he would ever admit. 

.First Pride.

 “Do you think I look too gay?”

“I am going to destroy that thought process one day. One day.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but Forrest grinned over his shoulder and dragged his hands over his hips and it was hard to be annoyed. Forrest was kind and supportive and brought a side of Alex out that he thought had been long buried. It made him feel a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Something was still missing, but he wasn’t scared anymore.

“But to answer your question, no, you don’t look ‘too gay’. Whatever that means,” Forrest said, “Even if you did, we’re literally going to a pride party so it doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t want your friends to think I’m weird.”

“Alex, all of my friends are queer. All of them. You will be the only straight-passing one there.”

“Straight-passing? That’s a thing?”

“You have so much to learn.”

Alex rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. Forrest just pressed a kiss to his neck before putting his hands on his shoulders, trying to massage out the tension. Alex didn’t think it would work. He was nervous to be so… out there. Sure, he kissed Forrest in the Wild Pony, but that was different. He was high on adrenaline. This was real and prolonged.

This was going to a gay bar with a man on his arm.

He spent a lot of time trying to decipher what exactly out was for him. Was it screaming from the rooftops or was it just being comfortable in his skin? He still wasn’t quite sure. For right now, though, he could try screaming from the rooftops. Forrest seemed to like it and, well, it was better than hiding.

As they made their way towards Planet 7, Alex felt himself get even more anxious. He was so fucking terrified that he was going to do something wrong, that he was going to embarrass himself. He still was trying to comprehend the difference between being too gay and not gay enoguh, where he fit on that scale, if it mattered. 

Forrest said it didn’t matter, but then he would start talking about shit Alex had never even heard of and he suddenly felt like he was bad at being queer. There were so many words he didn’t know, so much he had to learn about not only being a gay man, but the other people who were LGBT+ and the history behind it. It was almost overwhelming. Fascinating, though.

“Hey,” Forrest said as he walked up to a table. It was four of Forrest’s friends, all having colorful hair and having pride-themed makeup. Alex tried not to feel so out of place or envious. He had a feeling that if he met people like this back in high school, he would’ve become someone a lot different. It was hard being the only punk one in Roswell. 

“This must be the boyfriend,” one of Forrest’s friends said. Alex gave a smile and shrugged as Forrest led him to sit beside him at the table. “I’m Em, I use they/them pronouns.”

“I’m Casey, Em’s girlfriend, I use she/they.”

“Ryan, he/him.”

“And I’m Sophie and I use ‘em all.”

Alex hesitantly looked over Forrest for guidance. He just gave an encouraging smile and nodded towards them as if he didn’t feel out of place as it was. But he was willing to try.

“I’m Alex, I use he/him, I guess,” he said. He felt like he was back in basic, starting from scratch on how to interact with people. He didn’t wanna fuck up.

“I may have told them you needed a solid introduction of everyone,” Forrest laughed. Alex tried to laugh a little too and definitely did a lot better once he got some alcohol in his system.

For the next couple hours, Alex mainly listened to them talk, but he wasn’t bored. It was a nice change of pace. No aliens or government conspiracies. Instead, they spoke of politics and movies and books and people. They invited Alex to go with them the next weeked when they planned to give supplies to homeless people (something they did regularly) and tend to the community garden they’d started to supply people who needed it with free food. They didn’t seem to mind that he was learning the proper language or the way to act, they welcomed him with open arms because he was trying to learn. It made it so much easier to relax.

But then Isobel and Michael walked in.

They didn’t approach him, but they waved and he waved back. After a few too many minutes of wondering how the hell Isobel got Michael here, Alex offered to go buy the next round of drinks. He went to stand by them as he did so.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Isobel teased. Alex gave her a warm smile and then did the same to Michael. He looked a little tired, but he was able to smile back easily. 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Alex said before ordering the drinks, “Shocked you got Guerin all the way out here.”

“I’m trying something new,” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“I feel that. So am I.”

“How does it feel to be out? I’m loving it,” Isobel said. Alex snorted.

“I know you are,” he said, “But it looks good on you, all the confidence and ‘fuck you’ attitude. Suits you.”

“Speaking of, I’m going to go work on getting laid,” Isobel sighed happily, turning on her seat and heading to where people were congregating and celebrating most. And then there were two. 

“What about you?” Michael asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said all the being out looks good on Isobel. What about yourself?” Michael said, staring at him like he really wanted an answer. Alex licked his lips and thought about it, looking over to where Forrest and his friends were laughing.

“I don’t think I know yet,” Alex admitted, “I’m still trying to figure out what that even means to me, you know? Like Isobel and Forrest, they like that it’s known from the moment someone sees them. And it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just…”

“Invasive,” Michael noted. Alex nodded.

“Yeah. But it’s better than hiding, so I think it’s good for me.”

“I’m happy for you,” Michael told him and he sounded sincere even as he sipped his virgin daiquiri. Alex smiled.

“Thank you.”

Alex took the drinks back to the table and fit himself back into the conversation. Another couple hours went by before it was nearing its way towards midnight and they decided it was time to go home. They said their goodbyes and nice-to-meet-yous before going their separate ways.

“You were uncomfortable.”

“Huh?”

Alex turned to Forrest who had happily agreed to stay sober to drive while Alex drank to release the tension. The night sky was full of stars and the moon was full and Forrest was smiling, but it didn’t make sense with his words.

“Tonight. Being there made you uncomfortable. Was it the crowd? The rainbows? Just overwhelming in general? Talk to me,” Forrest pressed. Alex licked his lips and shifted in his seat.

“I-I think I’m more of a private person, I guess,” he tried, hoping his words didn’t come off as offensive, “It’s nice being out and proud, but… I guess I still don’t feel like me.”

“You know there’s a middle ground, right?” Forrest said. Alex gave him his full attention, eager to hear about what that might look like. “It’s your business, Alex. Not showing it always doesn’t mean you’re hiding.”

“I guess.”

“Some people that’s who they are, you know? It’s not a bad thing, it’s just who they are, it’s who I am. Our personalities are loud and that part of us shines through. You don’t have to force yourself to be bigger than you are to be queer enough. As long as you feel like yourself then it doesn’t fucking matter,” Forrest said. Alex gave him a confused smile.

“But I thought you said‒”

“Well, maybe I was wrong,” Forrest admitted. Alex relaxed more than he had in awhile. “That was before I got to know you and your past and before I understood that being private didn’t mean you were ashamed. I don’t want you forcing yourself to be someone you’re not for me. You can be Alex Manes, war hero who happens to be gay. You don’t have to be Alex Manes, gay war hero.”

Alex closed his eyes and smiled to himself, feeling better than he had in a long time.

Maybe he could just be him.

.Forever.

“Holy fuck, what did you take?”

“Um, antidepressants?”

A shocked laugh bubbled out of Michael and Alex smiled in response, propping his head up on his hand as he stared at the man he was going to spend his life with. He was all laid out after what honestly could’ve been two hours of fucking outside‒Alex wasn’t sure, he wasn’t really focused on the clock‒and he was in a blissful, sweaty daze. It was one of Alex’s many favorite sights.

After about a year of living in town together and talking about what they wanted to do, the two of them made the unanimous decision to fully renovate Jim Valenti’s hunting cabin and make that their permanent residence. Sure, the drive was a pain, but everything else made it worth it. They had all the privacy in the world to do things like fuck on the daybed Isobel insisted putting on their back porch the minute they mentioned building a pool.

“Aren’t antidepressants supposed to make you less sexually active or something?” Michael asked, slowly regaining his strength and using it to reach for Alex.

“I mean, it’s a common side effect, but I’ve only had that problem a couple times,” Alex admitted, sinking back into the daybed to press a kiss to his sweaty chest. Michael wrapped his arms around him and Alex found himself smiling even wider.

If someone had told him five years ago that he would be happily engaged to Michael Guerin, he would’ve laughed. He never saw himself being in a place where he felt comfortable enough to be in a loving, committed, serious relationship. Every other time, it was so easy to hide‒whether that be hiding in himself or from himself. Michael was the only one who seemed to be on the same wavelength.

It just took him awhile to get there.

“God, I fucking love you,” Michael groaned, squeezing him so tight that Alex couldn’t help but smile so wide it hurt his cheeks. He accepted the kisses that doused his face. 

“I love you too.”

Alex tilted his head up to meet him in a kiss, one leading to another until they were slipping into a lazy makeout session. They would eventually have to get up, clean off, get dress, act like useful members of society, but wasn’t it so much fun to do nothing but enjoy each other?

They were over 30. They’d wasted their 20s being confused and lost and sad and now they were grown ass men and they’d both refused to waste their lives being so miserable. A little bit of therapy and self-inspection had made it clear they just needed to work a bit harder to make that possible. Apparently, they had very similar hangups.

So they adjusted to make things work. Michael assured Alex that he was enough all the time, doting on him in a way that Alex craved and needed so he wouldn’t second guess himself. Alex made sure to always keep Michael in the loop even if it felt stupid, a small but difficult change to make sure Michael never felt like he was going to be left behind. They always let each other know where they were, who they were with, what they were doing. It wasn’t about control, it was about comfort. They’d gone too many years not knowing. It was so much easier to know.

“I was thinkin’ about our wedding,” Michael whispered, breaking the endless string of kisses. Alex smiled at the word. He never in a million year saw himself getting married. But, damn, might as well. “What if we did it in that big church in the middle of Roswell?”

“You wanna get married in a church?” Alex laughed. Michael ran his hand over his chest.

“I mean, not really, but I think it’d be super fucking funny. Besides, wouldn’t that make us the first queer couple to get married inside Roswell lines? That’d be fuckin’ hilarious.”

“Oh, you want our wedding to be funny?”

“I mean, yeah,” Michael admitted. Alex laughed softly and shook his head. “I know you don’t like big stuff like that, but c’mon. We could laugh about it with our grandchildren.”

Alex smiled even bigger and pushed himself up to give him another kiss. Wedding, grandchildren, fiance. He got to use those words all for himself. Wasn’t that wild?

“Okay, let’s do it. Our wedding pictures can have us flipping off everyone.”

“See?” Michael said, “You get it.”

A few more kisses later, they eventually decided to be grownups and they pulled themselves to their feet to go inside and clean up, make dinner, take care of themselves. Everything felt so easy. Sure, bad days came still and arguments still happened, but Alex was happy.

It turns out, while his goal had always been to just be able to relax, the real happy ending was freedom.

And, with Michael, he was free.

[svankmajerbaby]

5,8, 11,12,13, 23 & 25 ?? :P

thanks for the ask! sorry for taking so long to answer, i was on mobile :^(

5. character you were most surprised to end up writing? the toy story characters, to be quite honest. i have always loved the franchise but i never really thought i had much to write about it... i didn’t even question much the whole “who’s andy’s father??” thing i think a lot of people in the toy story fandom wonder a lot. but when toy story 4 came out i felt like there were a lot of stories i wanted to know. of course, i needed to know what had happened to bo peep, and how her relationship with woody would have changed after so long of being apart; that led me to reexamine their relationship based on who they were as characters, and go on a whole character analysis of both woody and bo as what they had probably gone through and which were their formative experiences... and after that i just needed to start writing down everything i had in my head. 8. favorite genre to write? i think i’m on the fence between family drama/romance and horror, with a bit of science fiction sprinkled in. the thing is, while family drama, romance and horror come easy more or less, i always get carried away with sci fi, needing to plan the new futuristic worlds, how it is different from tthe present, how characters interact with this world, etc. 11. what aspect of your writing do you think has improved the most since you started writing? definitely dialogues!! if there’s something i’m proud of (more or less) is how far i’ve come when writing dialogues. now i feel they’re a lot more natural and realistic, though just how good they are at communicating vital info is anyone’s guess really...

12. your weakness as an author fsghsdjhsdgdj i really don’t know, it’s going to be just my assessment of what i think i should improve on... i think i’m not too good at rhythm and flow, like i feel my stories aren’t very well organized and can feel boring at times or stilted, in a way. when i reread my finished stories/completed chapters i often find myself wanting to skip over scenes i feel are dull to get to the more fun stuff :^/ i do that with a lot of books tho, especially on the second or third read tho, so idk 13. your strengths as an author i think i’ve improved a lot on my dialogues?? i think. i used to hate it, because it always felt like such a chore while i enjoyed much more writing lush descriptions of environments and places and emotions and memories... but now i can spend pages and pages in a free flow of consciousness while inhabiting these characters and arguing from their points of view. this can become a weakness tho -im kind of feeling lately that i’m relying too much on dialogue instead of just... yknow, actions. which are hard to write too. 23. any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing? i don’t really know what “obscure life experiences” mean, but i’ve done things like trekking a mountain and walked through a forest and taken piano lessons and been in a car crash and seen an armed robbery and had regular anxiety attacks so i feel i can describe all of these more or less accurately... apart from that, there’s a lot of things i have to rely on other people’s experiences or accounts to write them properly, so i do a lot of research in general. im sorry im not sure what to answer fdsgfsgh i don’t really get this question 25. copy/paste a few sentences or a paragraph youre particularly proud of i’m still of the mind that The Best Thing I’ve Written So Far is a frankenstein/barbie fanfic that i feel is just... exactly what i wanted it to be, and tbh i don’t see any changes i would do to it, it’s both what i wanted to read and what i wanted other people to see. it’s a fanfic, so it’s not at all original, and i’ve borrowed quite a few words from the original (excellent) text, but i think i’ve added some ideas of my own... idk im just really really proud of it.

“It’s alive,” she whispered to Willard, or perhaps to herself.

But Vivianna was not overjoyed. She was not proud. And she was not happy at all. As soon as she could see what she had done, what she had brought to life, she recoiled in disgust and withdrew the light from it, as if, in darkness, it would disappear like a child’s nightmare.

Vivianna had attempted to make her creature in her image: she sought, as she was brought up, only the most delicate and striking beauty. She saw no reason as to give life to a being devoid of pleasant features, of perfectly shaped limbs, of the most perfect pieces she could manage to get her hands on. And so, Vivianna had fished her parts from very select places: the most cared-for, elite parts of the cemetery, where models and actresses were buried as they left too soon, too young; the dumpsters of shopping malls and large stores, where the broken mannequins were disposed of, but which could still be of use. She had washed everything so meticulously, taking the grime and the blood from nails, from crevices, better than the most professional mortician. Vivianna had used her sewing skills to attach the disparate limbs, to select and put together those fingers she found the nimblest, the lips she found the fullest, the feet she found the daintiest. When good parts were not available, that’s when the mannequins came of aid. She used heat to melt the plastic of the mannequin parts into the flesh, to attach everything neatly, cleanly, perfectly. Perfectly. Vivianna had never worked on anything as much, with as much attention to detail, with so much effort and hope. In her mind, the creature –her very own doll –would be perfect.

Perfect! Her own creation, perfect! As the heat of life animated the body, the seams became evident, the lines between skin and plastic. The scars of the stitching, that which Vivianna had done by hand, had not healed as well as she had expected; a newly beating heart pounded blood into the veins, and that blood leaked and dripped slowly through the badly sealed holes of the doll’s body. And beyond the skin… Vivianna felt sick to her stomach. She had attempted, in her pursuit of perfection, to copy herself –but even better, even more beautiful, with all those features Vivianna wished would be enhanced. But in her pursuit, the body’s proportions were extreme and deeply uncanny. It was all about small, off measurements: the bust, slightly too big for any human; the waist, just a bit too small, small enough to be wasp-like; the length of the legs, leaning toward the monstrous. And the features –the huge, blue, glassy eyes, surrounded by long, full lashes; the full, reddened, vein-crossed lips, which the doll could barely open in a forced pout; the tiny, thin nose, through which the doll tried its best to breathe; and the full head of blonde hair which, in the process had burned in places, or had become dirty and frizzy and greasy and stringy. Perhaps, Vivianna managed to think, it was what the magic of animation did to her creature: as a still figure, much like a mannequin, it could be slightly unsettling but, all things considered, a thing of beauty; but in the flesh, moving like –or how it imagined like –a person would move –something was so terribly off in how it moved, in how the body reacted to the movement, in how everything was placed and tried to place itself in the space.

[keichanz]

Move Your Body || pt. 1

Hi, friends. First off, I want to say that I really wanted to finish and post this before Sunday, but obviously that didn’t happen, so I decided to go ahead and post the first part of my new AU because...well. Just continue reading. :) 

Secondly, some of you may know this, some may not, but today, the 28th, is also my birthday. Yep, I turned the big 3-0 today, and lemme tell you I am not thrilled about it lmao. 

Some of you may also know that recently I created a Ko-fi and that I’ve been struggling a bit financially wise. 

This fic is a great, big, fat thank you to all of you who have supported me through Ko-fi and also for those of you who didn’t, but were there for me anyway with your encouragement, kind words, and emotional support. I can’t begin to tell how how much it meant to me that you guys didn’t hesitate to donate, and I am not lying when I say it literally brought me to tears. I cried from your generosity, and I cannot thank you enough for helping me out. This month has been a bit rougher than most, and I am eternally grateful to every single one of you. I wanted to give you something in return, and I thought, why not post this AU early. It’s small, and I know a lot of you are looking forward to the next chapter of You Rescued Me (it’s in the works!), but I hope this will suffice.

Having all of you as friends, as followers and readers, is the best birthday gift I could have ever asked for. I’m so damn blessed and grateful to have all of you in my life and i hope you all know that I appreciate and love you all from the very bottom of my heart.

So thank you again for being there for me. You can all bet your asses I’ll be the first one to jump on the chance in helping in any way that I can if ever one of you need support. Because you have mine, guaranteed. 

Note: I know fuck all about choreography or being a producer, so for the sake of this story, pretend everything in factual and accurate lmao.

Inuyasha was lounging in his office and puffing idly on a cigarette while poring over some of his old routines in hopes of sparking some inspiration when he heard the music.

Normally he wouldn’t care and would just ignore it, the probability that it was one of his instructors coming in for the midnight lessons his studio offered more than likely. Less likely it was one of their students wanting to get in some late night practice, but still possible. They needed express permission from himself in order to do that, and since neither Sango nor Miroku had run it by him to get that authorization, Inuyasha doubted any of his instructors’ students actually had the balls to sneak in without consent. So that ruled that out.

Inuyasha frowned and looked up from his desk, pinching the cig between two fingers and exhaling. He cocked his head, ears twitching as he tried to determine where exactly it was coming from, and when he did his eyebrows shot up in surprise. The music was not coming from the first or second floor, suggesting it was either one of his friends or a student, but instead the soft notes of a vaguely familiar hip-hop song were drifting up from directly below him.

The Taisho Studios building was made up of five floors, with the ground floor being the first. That one was Sango’s studio where she held her lessons, teaching those interested in how to dance in various styles and offering kick-boxing lessons as well. Miroku instructed his clientele on the second floor, where he offered various unique exercise regimes that was basically Zumba but with his own personal flare.

The third floor, however, was reserved for his use only, the top dog’s private studio where only a select few ever saw the inside, and those usually consisted of celebrities looking for the best of the best for their music videos. Inuyasha instructed those lessons himself and charged top dollar for his services. Everyone knew it was off limits and he kept the door locked. The fourth floor consisted of his spacious office and gym, also available to Miroku and Sango whenever they wanted since they weren’t just his instructors, but also his valued friends. It was conveniently located right below his top floor condo so whenever Inuyasha was working late, he could just drag his ass upstairs and bam, he was home.

Wondering who had the balls big enough to use his private studio without his permission, Inuyasha abandoned his work and strode to the door, cracking it open and sticking his head out into the hall. The music got louder and Inuyasha surmised whoever it was must have left the doors wide open so as far as he was concerned that was an open invitation to go see who it was and then kick them the hell out.

Glancing over his shoulder and eyeing the desk littered with paperwork and his open lap top, Inuyasha snorted, shrugged, and promptly decided he needed a break. His deadline wasn’t for another month and he wasn’t being very productive tonight anyway so Sesshomaru can just kiss his merrily dancing ass and deal with it.

Sticking his cig back between his lips, Inuyasha forwent using the elevator and instead wandered casually down the hall, going into the stairwell and then abruptly vaulting over the railing and dropping to the third floor. The entrance to his studio was right across from the elevators and staircase, so when he opened the door he found himself staring directly into it—and the person brave enough to utilize the spacious room without his knowledge.

For the second time that night Inuyasha’s eyebrows rose in surprise and without even being aware of it he padded across the hallway. His footsteps were masked by the music coming out of the Bluetooth speakers and they were facing away from them. Curious despite himself, Inuyasha leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, golden eyes silent observing as a little smirk quirked his lips.

Kagome released an undignified squawk as she stumbled forward for the nth time that night, the toe of her shoe catching on the hardwood floor and throwing off her balance. Windmilling her arms, she managed to catch herself before she face-planted onto the hard floor and resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a child and scream her vexation into the empty studio.

Dammit, why couldn’t she get this? Sango had made it look so easy when she’d shown her earlier, and after a couple of tries with her instructor’s guidance, Kagome had been able to more or less command her body to execute a smooth hip roll without looking like a twerking imbecile. Now for some reason she was unable to smoothly transition into the dance move she wanted without nearly falling over and needless to say she was getting frustrated.

Grumbling under her breath and wishing she had her friend’s tall and slender physique, Kagome stomped over to the table where her phone sat and paused the song in order to once more bring up the choreography. She hit play for the hundredth time, studied closely the two men and one woman flawlessly busting out move after move without fault and she promptly scowled before tossing her phone back on the table with a rough exhale.

Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, Kagome frowned and allowed her mind to wander, vaguely noting the faint smell of cigarette smoke that had been present earlier had suddenly gotten stronger. What was she even doing, anyway? She’d never been the most coordinated of people and was oftentimes called a klutz. She wasn’t graceful and she wasn’t even athletic, so really, this was a waste of time. She knew if she carried this out she would only end up making a fool of herself so why go through the trouble?

“Because,” Kagome answered herself with a deep sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I’m too damn stubborn and my stupid pride won’t let me quit.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

Kagome gasped and spun around, hand over her pounding heart and blue eyes wide with a combination of surprise and embarrassment. Her gaze landed on the lounging figure in the doorway, casually puffing away on a cigarette as he regarded her silently.

Well, that explains the odor of cigarette smoke, Kagome mused while aloud she said, “Jeez, you scared me. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” She paused and then frowned when his words registered. “What?”

The man said nothing and just continued to stare at her, cig tucked between his lips, expression unreadable. He was...damn, he was attractive, Kagome secretly admitted, feeling a blush creep up to color her cheeks a soft pink. Donned in loose fitting black jeans that rode low on his hips and a plain white t-shirt that contoured very nicely to a toned chest and stomach, a backwards ballcap was pulled on top of a head of short, shaggy silver hair. His eyes looked to be a stunning golden color and when he lifted a hand to pinch the cig between two fingers, Kagome noticed two things: the talons tipping each finger, instantly giving away what he was, and the black tattoo starting at his wrist that crawled up his arm to disappear into his shirt sleeve.

Kagome’s breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat. No wonder he’s so attractive, she thought dazedly, glimpsing a flash of fang as he parted his lips and tendrils of smoke drifted up toward the ceiling. He’s not human.

What was that saying? The most beautiful things in life are often the most dangerous, or something to that effect. Kagome was inclined to believe it, suddenly feeling very flushed and where was her water bottle?

“Tenacity and pride,” the man continued, studying the fag between his fingers with an air of boredom. “By themselves they don’t do much good and more often than not just get you into trouble, but put them together and success is pretty much guaranteed in the performing arts industry.

“So I guess you could say,” he said and took a drag of his cig, “they’re requirements in our world. Stipulations if you wanna get anywhere in life.”

Kagome shook her head. “Um, our world?” she repeated, utterly lost.

The look he gave her was deadpan. “Dancing, babydoll.”

Ocean eyes widened in understanding and her flush darkened as she sheepishly averted her gaze, fidgeting where she stood.

“Oh, I, um,” Kagome faltered, clearing her throat and for some reason suddenly feeling like a child in front of a grown up about to confess to being naughty. “I’m...not a dancer,” she finished lamely and winced, twisting the fabric of her shirt with her fingers in a nervous habit.

Inuyasha raised a dubious brow at that declaration. “Alright,” he allowed, nodding slowly. “So suppose you tell me what the hell you’re doing in my private studio then, playing music and dressed like that?”

Kagome blanched and jerked her head up to stare at him with wide-eyes. “P-private?” she squeaked and looked so terrified Inuyasha briefly regretted telling her that. “Oh god—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know! Er, my dance instructor Sango told me I could use her studio tonight to get some practice in, but when I got here it was locked and I...found this one and it was unlocked...”

Looking very uncomfortable with a red face and shifting nervously from foot to foot, Inuyasha felt his face soften slightly as he watched her and he released a quiet sigh around the cig in his mouth. It had been unlocked since he was in here an hour before trying out some moves for the new routine he was working on and he’d planned on locking back up before he went upstairs.

So ultimately it was his fault since he’d left the doors unlocked, and as such it wouldn’t exactly be fair to be angry at her. It also appeared she didn’t know who he was, which admittedly was a bit surprising. Everyone knew everything above the second floor was off limits unless given permission and it led him to believe she was a fairly new student of Sango’s.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again and gave an awkward half-bow, biting down on her lip as she finally met his eyes. “I’ll, um, leave if you want me to. I really didn’t know...”

Inuyasha considered her for a moment and then shook his head. What was the point if she was already here? “Nah, don’t worry about,” he muttered and took another drag on his cig, watching as she visibly relaxed and offered him a timid smile.

Cute little thing, ain’t she? he mused idly and racked his gaze down her lithe form. She says she’s not a dancer, but she certainly had the body to be one. That damn shirt hid most of his view, but from what he could see of her legs—

“Are you an instructor?” she asked him, tilting her head. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

Inuyasha fought against the urge to grin. She really didn’t have any idea who he was.

“You can say that,” he finally said at length, finding himself not wanting to give away his identity just yet. This could prove to be interesting, and who knows; maybe it would spark some inspiration and he’d finally be able to get some results so Sesshomaru would stop jumping down his damn throat with his demands and deadlines.

“Still waiting for an explanation, babydoll,” Inuyasha reminded her and took another drag. Technically there was no smoking allowed in his building, but he owned it and could do whatever the hell he damn well pleased, so whatever.

She blinked. “For what?”

He cocked a brow at her and carelessly flicked some ashes onto the floor; maintenance would clean it up tomorrow morning anyway. “Why you’re here. You said you ain’t a dancer, which is all fine and dandy, but you got me curious.” He shrugged and let the cig dangle from his lips as he crossed his arms again.

Kagome winced and then wrinkled her nose, her face warming up at the true reason for her being here.

“It’s stupid...” she mumbled, staring down at the floor and hunching her shoulders a little.

Inuyasha frowned. “I doubt that,” he told her and had an insane, unexplainable urge to cross the room and wrap her up in his arms. She just looked so small and fragile and he wanted to...protect her? What the—from what?

Kagome looked like she didn’t believe but she took a breath and told him anyway, figuring he had a right to know since this was his private studio. Or at least that’s what he told her, however Kagome figured he was telling the truth because why else would he be here?

“It really is stupid,” she repeated with a sigh and a fleeting grimace crossed her features. “My college was holding an event the other day out in the courtyard in front of the student activities building, and since my friends and I had nothing better to do, we decided to go and see what it was all about. Turns out it was a DDR competition and they were using a giant white board as a screen and extension cords to hook the game up. Anyone was welcome to play a round and enter some friendly competition, and even though I’ve never played before in my life, I gave it a try.”

She paused and crossed her arms, her nose scrunching slightly in a little pout that he found completely too adorable. “Of course I failed miserably at it, but I laughed it off because it was just for fun anyway. But then this extremely rude and universally not liked rich bitch laughed way too hard about it and snarked that I would never win any contest with those moves.”

Inuyasha cocked a brow at her, his tone disbelieving as he drawled, “You’re here because of a game of DDR?”

She scowled at him and had the good grace to blush. “No. If you let me continue, I was going to say the purpose of the entire event was to promote an actual dance competition where you have to come up with a new dance to a song of your choosing. It has to be at least one minute long, an entry can have up to four people, and all of the moves have to be completely original.”

“Sounds fair,” he commented.

Kagome nodded. “So after humiliating me in front of dozens of people, this bitch flips her hair, pops her chest out so everybody notices her fake boobs, and loudly declares that it’ll be a piece of cake winning the competition since ‘nobody worth while’ has entered. And oh my god, I got so heated, and just to spite the cocky bitch, I stared her right in the eye as I entered despite the fact that I cannot dance worth a good goddamn.

“And so now,” Kagome shrugged and held up her hands helplessly. “Here I am, sneaking into private studios at midnight and pretending like I know what the hell I’m doing.” She offered a wavering smile, her face still red but her blue eyes were bright.

Inuyasha nodded again and whistled low. “I see,” he murmured. “Good on you though, for not letting her cow you like that. I take it this isn’t the first time she’s given you grief.”

Kagome sighed and pinched her nose. “Since I started college three years ago. We’re in the same major.”

“Which is?”

“Nursing.”

He looked surprised. “So this bitch walking about like her shit don’t stink wants a career that dedicates all of her time taking care of and thinking about someone else other than herself? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I know,” Kagome said drolly, her expression one of dry exasperation. “Trust me, the irony is not lost on me.”

“Damn,” Inuyasha muttered in bewilderment, shaking his head.

Kagome grunted in agreement, wrinkling her nose.

He bit back a chuckle. “Alright. Now lemme ask you this, babydoll,” Inuyasha suddenly said, flicking more ashes onto the floor and when her inquisitive blue eyes met his, he continued. “You said earlier that your stubbornness and pride won’t let you back down. Is that still true?”

Kagome blinked in confusion, brow furrowing slightly. “What...?”

“Is it?”

Amber eyes bore into her own and Kagome shivered. “I...yes,” she answered, barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “One more thing.” Pinching the nearly gone cancer stick between two fingers and lowering it from his lips, Inuyasha looked directly into her eyes and exhaled smoothly.

“Do you want it?”

Kagome opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked adorably confused. “Do I...do I want what?”

Inuyasha was silent for a moment as he studied her, and then he answered roughly, “You have to want it, babydoll. Spite is a great motivator, but it’s not enough if you want real results. If you don’t want it bad enough, if this is all just a game to get back at some snotty bitch with fake tits, then you’re wasting your time and might as well leave right now. I don’t give my time to quitters.”

Kagome gasped and shook her head, her heart pounding at what he was implying. “What do you—”

“Do you want it?”

The intensity in which he’d asked that single question gave Kagome pause and suddenly she knew exactly what he was referring to, what he wanted to hear her say. And it was amazing because she did want it; she wanted it with a desperation that surprised her because when she’d changed into her workout clothes and left her apartment at 11:30 at night to practice dancing in an empty studio, she hadn’t truly thought that she would get anywhere and thought for sure she’d end up giving in and backing down.

But then suddenly this man appears out of nowhere, starts asking her questions about pride and tenacity, somehow wheedles out the real reason why she’s here and her ambition roars back to life. No, it wasn’t just spite that made her agree. True, she wanted to prove that bitch wrong, but she wanted to prove to herself even more that she could do this and do it so well she’d leave everyone wondering if she was the same clumsy Kagome that tripped over air and fell up the stairs.

“Yes,” Kagome answered honestly, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. Nodding, she repeated herself, her voice strong and ringing with resolve.

“Yes, I want it. I want it.”

Inuyasha’s eyes flashed and he nodded once. “Good.”

Then with that he started toward her, his strides purposeful and Kagome watched him as he approached the table behind her and stabbed out his cigarette in the ash tray she’d failed to notice before now.

Then he turned to her, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the table.

“Let’s see it.”

Kagome balked. “What?”

“Show me what you got, babydoll. Dance for me.”

Kagome blushed and swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry as her heart kick started in her chest.

“Why?” she whispered although she suspected she already knew why.

Instead of answering, Inuyasha grabbed her phone and woke up the screen, ignoring her protest. “What song?”

Kagome made a half-hearted swipe for her mobile and huffed in aggravation when he held it away from her. “Song?”

He cut his eyes to her with an annoyed frown. “What song are you going to be dancing to?”

She blinked. “Oh. Well, I was thinking maybe Girls like You by Maroon—”

“No.”

“...Excuse me?”

“No,” Inuyasha repeated and scrolled through the songs on her music app. “It’s not a bad choice, but it’s too...soft for what you need. If you wanna win this competition you’re gonna want something with a real shock factor, something totally unexpected that’ll knock their fucking socks off and have men and women alike panting and wanting a piece of that.”

Kagome made a face and muttered, “I don’t really care if I win this thing. I just want Kamlyn to eat her words and maybe get her to stop harassing me every goddamned day.”

Inuyasha shrugged. “Then consider it a bonus because when I’m through with you it’ll be guaranteed. Now,” he said and browsed her music again with a contemplative frown. “From what you’ve told me about this Kamlyn wench, it’s safe to assume her dance is not going to be kid friendly. That means you’re gonna hafta knock her performance outta the park with something sexier.”

Kagome blanched. Sexier? Oh god. She was anything but sexy and she really didn’t think she liked where he was going with this...

“You’re taste in music sucks,” he commented idly when still he saw nothing after a few more minutes of scrolling. She must have had over five hundred songs on the damn thing and yet none of the titles he glimpsed were appropriate for what he had in mind. He uselessly scrolled for another minute, gave up, and decided he’d have better luck with YouTube. They’d have to discuss what song she’ll use at a later time, but for now he’d just use a random bop with a suitable rhythm and he searched for the first one that came to mind.

“It does not,” Kagome fired back petulantly and crossed her arms again. “If you’re gonna insult my music then you can just—”

Inuyasha tapped the screen and seconds later the rest of her words were abruptly cut off by a steady, thrumming beat pumping from the speakers around them. The music ebbed and flowed, giving off a suggestive and sultry energy that can often be found in strip clubs. The lyrics followed shortly thereafter, soft, sexy, and alluring.

Kagome’s heart stopped and for the second time in as many minutes the color drained from her face. Oh no. Nooooo no no no no he couldn’t possibly want her to dance to…to something like that?

As the crooning lyrics abruptly turned into obscene moaning sounds, Inuyasha set her phone on the table and crossed his arms before nodding his head behind her, a wordless gesture to get on with it.

Oh good lord he did. Fervently Kagome shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to choose another song while inwardly cursing every perverted songwriter that decided it would be a good idea to create something like that. It was too embarrassing, too…too suggestive, something she wouldn’t even do in the privacy of her own room, let alone in front of a very attractive man!

Inuyasha frowned at her adamant refusal and explained, “I need to see what I’m working with here, babydoll, and in order for me to do that, you need to show me. This is just to give me an idea on where to start, so just pretend I’m not here and let the music take over. Close your eyes if you need to and let everything else just fade away.”

Blushing furiously, Kagome bit her lip and hesitated, dropping her gaze to stare down at the floor and clutched the hem of her shirt, wringing the fabric in an obviously nervous gesture. She knew without a doubt that even if she did close her eyes she would still be aware of his presence. Even now she could feel the weight of his gaze, staring at her unwaveringly and it made her stomach do not so unpleasant flip-flops as her heart accelerated in her chest.

Didn’t he realize what he was asking of her? Kagome had never considered herself sexy; hell, she wouldn’t even call herself pretty. She was average. She didn’t turn heads, never attracted attention, and she could count on one hand the number of times a guy had flirted with her. (Once, and it was her ex-boyfriend.) Kagome was awkward, clumsy; she knew she was no prize and her confidence level was drastically low.

Simply put, she wasn’t Kamlyn, who, despite being completely fake, was considered one of the hottest people on campus and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt what she had. How could he possibly ask her to dance to a song like this when she had nothing to flaunt?

When the song transitioned into the first chorus and all she did was continue to stand there looking very uncomfortable while avoiding his gaze, it became glaringly obvious that her hesitation went beyond mere shyness so with a sigh Inuyasha swiped up her phone and hit pause. Her shoulders hunched as the music was abruptly cut off and she peeked up at him, biting her lip and looking like she was about to be scolded.

His expression softened, however the confusion was evident on his face as he regarded her thoughtfully. Was this truly so difficult for her?

“Okay,” he murmured. “What’s the matter?” The patient softness of his voice surprised even him and judging by the look that crossed her face, it surprised her too.

She recovered quickly, though, and once more ducked her head, shifting her weight and feeling a flush of embarrassment color her face a soft pink. She really didn’t want to confide in a virtual stranger all of her self-image issues, even if he was trying to help her. Maybe if she gave him just a brief display of her awkwardness and incoordination he would see for himself that the song definitely wasn’t the best choice.

Dearly hoping she wouldn’t regret this, Kagome swallowed thickly and said just loud enough for him to hear, “Um, s-start the song over, please.”

Inuyasha frowned at her unexpected request and he eyed her for a moment, expression contemplative, before wordlessly reaching over to wake up the screen and did as he bade him. A single tap of a clawed finger and the song was starting over, the beginning notes echoing throughout the studio.

Steeling herself, unable to stop her nervous shaking, Kagome took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started moving.

Right off the bat Inuyasha knew with absolute certainty, or at the least very strongly suspected just why exactly she was so adamant about not using this particular song. It was heavy with sex appeal, the kind that made women grind and gyrate their hips as they sought to turn on every single man nearby, and this girl, this young woman had absolutely zero.

Her movements were stiff and awkward as she attempted to move her body to the music provided like she had no idea where to put her limbs. The look of intense concentration on her face suggested that might very well be the case and it was clear she’d never before used her hips or ass as a method of seduction. They didn’t roll so much as jerk and her knees weren’t at all relaxed but locked which accounted for all the stumbling she was doing. Of course with that damn shirt in the way it was hard to accurately guess, but altogether it was glaringly obvious how out of her element she was, her discomfort not only painted clear as day on her face, but in the stiff way she moved.

After another stumble that nearly sent her sprawling onto the floor, Inuyasha couldn’t take it anymore and he put a stop to her painful performance by pressing pause and he didn’t miss the unmistakable look of relief that crossed her features.  Then she righted herself, sighed, and looked positively defeated as she stared at him, as if she already knew he was going to declare her a lost cause and change his mind about helping her.

If only she knew that watching her sorely lacking performance had the complete opposite and only solidified his decision to help her.

And besides, he always liked a challenge. It was only a bonus that he could use her routine – with her permission, of course – as new material and Sesshomaru would stop hounding him about the damn deadline in a month.

Which reminded him… “What’s your name, babydoll?” he asked as he scrolled through her songs and selected one that would be good practice for what he had in mind.

Kagome frowned at the unexpected question but answered, “Kagome.”

“How long you got until the competition, Kagome?” Setting her phone back on the table, Inuyasha took off his hat and carelessly tossed it onto the table as well before promptly reaching behind him and yanking off his shirt.

Kagome sputtered as her face flamed, eyes going very wide to suddenly be faced with a very attractive, bare chested man. Good god, but this man was a silver-haired Adonis, all sculpted muscle, tanned skin, and those ears were too damn cute. What really grabbed her attention, however, was the wicked looking tribal tattoo wrapped around his left arm that she was finally able to see in its entirety. The intricate design extended all the way up to his shoulder and upon closer inspection it appeared to be a dragon with the head on his left pectoral. It was beautifully done and Kagome was slightly jealous. She’d always wanted a tattoo...

“I—I—uh, a little over a month?” she said, completely distracted by the complete magnificently tattooed male...yumminess that he presented.

Without her permission her eyes tracked the line of silver hair that disappeared into his low-slung jeans. Her heart beat a little faster as the blush on her face intensified and oh my god, he had another tattoo in the delectable V of his right hip bone, what looked to be jagged red claw marks half-concealed by his jeans.

Kagome thought she might faint.

Inuyasha snorted in amusement. This was too perfect. “Good. Take it off.”

That jolted her right out of her avid admiration of his solid abs and she blinked, darting her gaze this with a puzzled frown. “What?”

He withheld a smirk. Checking him out, was she? Then it was only fair he got to do the same.

“Shirt. Off. Now. Unless you’d like me to do it for you?” He cocked a brow at her and had to grin when she squeaked and took a step away from him. “C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

“But—what—” Kagome stuttered, utterly perplexed and she crossed her arms over her stomach as if that would be any defense to him divesting her of her shirt. “Why?” she finally managed.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes and explained, “Because it’ll only get in the way and I need to be able to see.”

She eyed him suspiciously and narrowed her eyes. “See what?”

He scowled then, getting impatient. “To see why you move like an eighty year old woman with Parkinson’s, now would you stop questioning me and just take the fucking thing off already? You’re wearing a bra anyway and it ain’t like I’m asking so I can ogle your tits or some shit. Christ,” he muttered and rubbed his forehead. She certainly wasn’t kidding when she said she was stubborn.

Kagome flushed. Truth was, she had assumed part of the reason he was asking was so he could stare at her chest but now she felt ridiculous for even suspecting it. She didn’t even think he was that type of man anyway, she was just...nervous. She liked her oversized shirts; they were her security blanket, a shield to protect herself from anyone looking too closely. If she took it off, despite having a sports bra on underneath, she would feel too vulnerable, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with lack of clothing.

Here he was, standing in all his beautiful half-naked glory, sculpted abs, a hard chest, and arms thick with muscle and strength. Meanwhile here she was, plain, frumpy Kagome, with her small chest, soft stomach, and general awkwardness. Standing next to him, she felt like the ugly duckling that got hit with every branch on her way down the ugly tree and he expected her to reveal all of her could-stand-to-lose-a-few-pounds body to him?

Hell no.

Once more avoiding his gaze and shifting from foot to foot, Kagome’s hands clutched the dark gray fabric of her shirt and she shook her head, biting down on her lip.

“Um—I, uh, c-can’t I continue wearing it? Please?”

Even she could hear how pathetic she sounded pleading about something so trivial but she couldn’t help it. She was already feeling out of sorts with the song he was using; keeping her shirt was her last defense. Didn’t he know that?

Scowling, Inuyasha opened his mouth to once again demand she remove it, but then she peeked up at him from under dark, sooty lashes and when his eyes connected with hers realization hit him so hard his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. Kagome winced and immediately ducked her face again, flushing darkly.

...Well, fuck. It made so much sense now. Granted, this whole endeavor just became ten times more challenging, but it was too late to back out now. Besides, he couldn’t in good conscience allow her to continue thinking about herself like that when it was so obviously untrue.

Muttering a curse under his breath that had Kagome daring another glimpse at him, Inuyasha promptly stepped in close to her and ignored her quiet gasp of surprise before knocking her arms out of the way and hooking a claw in the collar of her shirt. Too late Kagome realized what he was going to do and before she could utter any sort of protest Inuyasha swiftly drew his hand down and sliced the garment right down the middle. Stunned and blushing up a storm, Kagome could do nothing as he yanked the shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it carelessly behind him onto the table.

While Kagome stood there with her arms over her chest and berated him for ruining her shirt, Inuyasha finally got his first good look at her and damn did he like what he saw. She was fucking perfect with a flat, trim belly that tapered into shapely hips and sender thighs encased in tight spandex shorts. Her skin was smooth and creamy and his hands suddenly itched to roam over her figure but he kept them to himself; he figured ignoring her wishes and destroying her only cover was pushing it enough as it was and he needed her to trust him.

From what he could see of her chest behind her arms, her breasts were small but that didn’t matter; a push-up bra or corset could do fucking wonders and before his mind had the chance to travel in a decidedly less than pure direction, Inuyasha said four words that promptly drew Kagome’s tirade to a screeching halt.

“Kagome, you’re fucking perfect,” he told her sincerely and perhaps a tad bit impatiently but she refused to hear it, adamantly shaking her head and denying his claim. Frowning he grabbed her hands kept her from hiding herself, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away.

“No, listen to me, I’m serious. You have absolutely fucking nothing to be ashamed of, Kagome. You’re stunning with a fucking rocking body and I’ll say it every goddamn day if I have to until you believe me, but what I see before me is nothing short of beautiful.”

When still she wouldn’t look at him and kept shaking her head, Inuyasha growled and gently grasped her chin in his fingers, tilting her face up and her sharp gasp went ignored as he continued, “Confidence is a key factor in this sort of thing, babydoll. You move the way you do because you don’t have any; you think you’re not sexy and that’s sorta the whole point I’m going for here. If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to start believing you can and the first step is being confident and comfortable in your own skin.”

Inuyasha suddenly sighed and some of the vehemence left his tone as he said a bit more gently, “Look, you have the physical requirements for this; you’re fit and I’m willing to bet you’re flexible as hell. There’s really nothing stopping you but you and if you really do want this like you told me, then you need to stop this embarrassed shit and either tell me to fuck off and go home, or look me in the eye and fucking commit.  I don’t half-ass things, Kagome; I’m gonna work you into the fucking ground until I think you’re ready and if you think you can’t do this, tell me now. Like I told you before: I don’t give my time to quitters.”

Kagome flinched and he grit his teeth but didn’t take his words back. He wanted to help her, he truly did, but she needed to help him by trusting what he said and doing what was necessary. He may have been a bit too harsh, but he couldn’t help it. Most of the people he dealt with on a daily basis were pretentious celebrities that liked to throw around large amounts of cash just because they could and it was required of him to be a hardass to get through their self-absorbed bubble of fame in order to get to the nitty gritty of things. Most of the time it was received well, but occasionally he’d get the bored up and coming rock star that got too comfortable in their lifestyle and became nothing more than a spoiled brat and they ended up bowing out before any of the real work began. It was a giant pain in the ass and a huge waste of his valuable time, which was why he was so strict on who he decided to take on as a client.

He was one of the most respected, successful, and coveted producers in the whole fucking country. He was allowed to be choosy, goddammit.

Gently sweeping his thumb across her chin, Inuyasha waited to see what she would do, not afraid to admit to himself that he hoped she wouldn’t back out. He didn’t understand his strong desire to help her, not to mention his very strange urge to protect her at all costs, but he didn’t dwell on it. Kagome was different than any of the other woman he’d ever met; she was soft, innocent, untouched by the harsh realities of the world and despite having some evident self-image issues, he suspected that she was utterly breathtaking when she flourished and he wanted so badly to witness that. He wanted to be there when she shined, when she made that bitch Kam-whatever eat her words and that was when Inuyasha decided he was going to do something he’d never done before in any of his client’s routines. 

Of course he needed to get her to agree to it first, but he was confident he could wear her down even if she did disagree at first. She may be stubborn, but he was as bullheaded as they come and was oftentimes told he didn’t know when to give up. It was one of his best qualities that contributed to his popularity among producers and he wasn’t afraid to let anyone know.

Now if only Kagome had half that confidence...

Inuyasha was already cooking up a few ideas while he waited for her to make her decision when finally, finally, Kagome lifted her head, those beautiful ocean eyes locked with his, and the cautious hope in them was nearly his undoing. Without even realizing it his expression softened and he gave her that last push she needed to make her decision.

“Trust me, Kagome,” he murmured and daringly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, watching the flush spread across her cheeks and hearing her breath hitch in her throat. “Just trust me and I promise you won’t regret it. Alright?”

Kagome’s eyes widened and she studied him quietly, her eyes searching his face, his eyes for what he hadn’t a clue, but apparently after another moment she found it because the corners of her mouth lifted up into a small, timid smile, she sucked in a breath, and then she gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Okay,” she breathed and officially sealed her fate.

Inuyasha grinned. “That’s my girl,” he said and had the insane urge to kiss her forehead. “Now let’s get this show on the road; it’s late, I have a meeting at 9 am, and I want to at least go over the basics before we call it a night. Sound good?”

Hardly believing she was actually going through with this, Kagome closed her eyes and nodded again. She could trust him. She could trust...wait a minute, what even was his name?

“What’s your name?” she blurted out as he restarted their practice song and golden eyes cut her way at the question.

He gave her a crooked grin and his eyes flashed wickedly. “It’s Inuyasha, babydoll, but I’m more commonly known as Sha.” He cocked a brow at her and watched Kagome’s face go from blank as she attempted to place his name to instant recognition, eyes going wide and mouth dropping in astonishment.

“Y...you’re...” she breathed, apparently having trouble articulating her thoughts, and Inuyasha chuckled. Usually it annoyed him when someone was so starstruck they could barely speak, but strangely with Kagome he found it completely endearing.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, raising his brows. “I admit, I’m a little surprised you didn’t recognize me. The ears usually give it away.” He wiggled them for emphasis and he caught her quiet giggle.

Her smile was equal parts sheepish and apologetic. “I don’t really watch TV and I’m not really invested in the entertainment world, either.” She shrugged.

Inuyasha stared at her. God, she was so pure he felt as if just standing next to her would somehow taint or blemish her. He’d done some shady shit in his past, and he was by no means innocent now, and for the first time in his life he felt inadequate and quite suddenly wanted to take a shower, as if that would help wash off his sins and dirty deeds.

“Well,” he drawled and reached back to wake her phone’s screen. “After tonight, babydoll, consider yourself invested.”

He hit play and the first notes of their practice song drifted out of the speakers.

Instantly Kagome recognized it and she frowned. “I thought we weren’t using this song.”

The silver-haired choreography shrugged and grabbed her hand to tug her a little closer. “We’re not, but it’s got a good enough melody to use as a practice song. We’ll start with something slow first that you’re comfortable with and then work our way up to faster paced songs that are similar to what you’re gonna use for the competition. Sound good?”

Releasing a steadying breath, Kagome briefly closed her eyes and then nodded, resolute. “Let’s do this.”

He smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. And now, lesson one.”

Without warning Inuyasha spun her around so he back was facing his chest and used his foot to nudge her legs a little farther apart. He slid his hand around to splay across her lower stomach and he felt her immediately tense up. Expected, which was why this was a good place to start.

“When I was watching you dance earlier,” he began and placed his other hand on her hip. “I noticed you were thinking way too hard on how to move, where to put your feet and all that. You need to relax. Let your body think for you, let it move on its own. You kept stumbling and tripping earlier because you were so tense and you were so busy trying to command your body to move the way you wanted it to that you ended up looking like a robot.”

He leaned his face down so his mouth hovered next to her ear. “So breathe, Kagome,” he said and smiled when she released the breath he was sure she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding. “Dancing is supposed to be fun. It ain’t rocket science.”

Reminding herself that she had to trust him – he did this for a living, after all – Kagome did as she was instructed and took a few moments to just breathe, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind. She was highly aware of his hands on her hip and stomach but surprisingly enough the not so unpleasant sensation was easy to get used to. Her lips lifted into a slight smile as she slowly relaxed, listening to the music, allowing the smooth beat to ease the tension from her muscles.

“Thatta girl,” Inuyasha murmured behind her and squeezed her hip once in approval. “Alright, now listen to the beat...move with it...don’t think about it, Kagome, listen to the song and let it command you, not the other way around.”

“I am,” Kagome huffed, her brow furrowed slightly as she attempted to sync her hips with the beat of the music.

“No, you’re not,” Inuyasha insisted and closed the slight gap between them, stepping in close to press his chest flush against her back and yanking her ass into the cradle of his hips. She gasped, but he ignored it as he said, “You hear it, but you’re not listening.”

With his hands and his own body, Inuyasha moved her the way he wanted her to, guiding her hips from side to side as his own did the same, allowing her to feel and not merely hear what he was saying.

“See,” Inuyasha rumbled in her ear and Kagome shivered, willing her heartbeat to calm and the fierce blush on her face to recede as. “Don’t just listen with your ears, listen with your body. As cheesy as that sounds,” he added and smiled when she released a breathy laugh, gratified when she finally allowed herself to be taken by the beat and let the music command her.

With her eyes closed and so in tune with the melody wrapping around her body, letting it dictate her movements, Kagome was barely aware of Inuyasha stepping back, though he kept a light grip on her hips. She didn’t even understand how, but suddenly it was so easy to move with the rhythm of the beat and soon she lost herself to the notes of one of her favorite songs, smiling now as she danced without a care. It wasn’t a chore, it wasn’t something she felt she had to do at all costs, but a deep desire she hadn’t even been aware she’d harbored.

Standing a few feet away from her, arms crossed and a satisfied grin on his face, Inuyasha watched with half-lidded eyes as she danced like no one was watching, losing herself to the music and even singing along to the lyrics. It was obvious she’d forgotten he was even there, but that was okay. That’s what he’d wanted, for her to forget everything and just have fun, if only for a few minutes.

All right, so he could admit, this wasn’t really a lesson so much as a warm up. He’d caught a few brief glimpses of it earlier when he’d told her to show him what she had, but watching her now, taking in the graceful movements of her body and the smooth way she transitioned each step, it was obvious to him that Kagome was a natural. She knew what to do, or at least her body did; she just needed some fine-tuning, is all, an upgrade to an already seamlessly working piece of machinery. They still had a long way to go of course, but perhaps it wouldn’t be as challenging as he’d originally thought.

He was suddenly really looking forward to the next month or so.

The song ended a moment later and Kagome stood there, legs akimbo, chest popped and shoulders back and her face was beautifully flushed with a bright smile spread across her face. He was gratified to see she didn’t even seem to be that much out of breath either, a testament to her strength and agility, another thing that would make this easier for both of them.

The sound of clapping drew her attention and Kagome turned her head to find Inuyasha standing a little ways a way, a satisfied grin on his face as he clapped, obviously pleased with her performance. Suddenly giddy Kagome giggled and gave an exaggerated bow, sweeping her arms around behind her and she heard his amused chuckle.

“That was great, babydoll,” he praised and ambled toward her. “You’re a fucking natural and with a little guidance from yours truly, we’ll have both men and women drooling after you and you’re gonna show up that bitch Kam-what’s-her-face so good she won’t be able to show her face on campus for fucking weeks.”

With big blue eyes glinting with cautious hope, Kagome peered up at him with a hesitant smile as butterflies abruptly took flight in her belly.

“You really think so?” she asked, for the first time daring to believe that she could do something better than Kamlyn, daring to believe that she could be better, period.

Inuyasha stopped in front of her and smirked arrogantly.

“I know so. Alright, now I’m gonna show you a few basic moves and I want you to follow my lead...”

Part 2

[ldybluerse]

The Nice and Accurate Tale of Beauty and the Beast

Chapter One: Beauty and the Beast Good Omens AU 

“Oh hello again dear.” 

Aziraphale gave the young woman who had just burst into his shop a smile that, for the unobservant, would be welcoming and friendly; the truth was that smile was quite forced and strained. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, as she was respectful and kept mostly to herself.  It was simply the fact that he had no desire to sell (or loan) his books to a single person on this green Earth. Yet, no matter what he did to deter visitors, she would come back as soon as she finished one book, ready to borrow another.  Her tenacity was almost admirable, if only it hadn’t been directed towards the Knight who just wanted his little bookstore to be left alone by others so that he may enjoy his collection of books in peace.

Aziraphale did have to hand it to the girl: she took the utmost care of every book she borrowed and only ever returned one in poor shape.  She left that morning, completely happy to borrow a beloved book (for the third time, in fact), only to return moments later with the bottom of her blue dress and white apron covered in mud stains and her big brown eyes drowning in tears.  She was so very sorry for what had happened to the book, she said, and that she’d tried to clean it with her dress before rushing back to his shop.  Seeing her distress, Aziraphale almost wanted to forget his frustration with her. Almost. Sighing softly, he put his upset on hold to get the girl a calming cup of tea and then looked over the damages. It was only after she’d composed herself and finished her tea that he found out the truth: it hadn’t been the young woman’s fault at all, but the fault of a boisterous young man who (in Aziraphale’s opinion) caused far too much trouble and got away with too much of it. When she saw that the book had been completely cleaned up and that the shopkeeper wasn’t angry with her, she settled down fully and took her leave with the novel under her arm once more (along with a small blessing of protection on the way home). 

He huffed softly, looking over his poor, abused book. Someone really should put that boy in his place. Alas, the trouble he caused was not enough to warrant the Knight stepping in and risk blowing his own cover; the boy, after all, was not the monster he was seeking--though, frankly, he did have quite the monstrous personality, even for a young human male. It had taken a minor miracle to restore that book properly, which wouldn’t have been needed if the young man hadn’t purposefully thrown it into the mud when he realized the young woman was giving said book far more attention than his half-baked and vulgar attempts to impress her. There was little to redeem the boy in Aziraphale’s eyes, what with his poor fashion sense (entirely too much flesh showing) and the horrible personality that was only accentuated as he stomped about town and bullied people, especially that one friend who followed about like a whipped puppy. He was certain the young lady felt the same way, which was why she was constantly dodging his advances. Aziraphale had instantly been wary of the young man since he’d arrived, but that feeling grew to a strong dislike when the personal harassment and mockery began (usually over his own fashion standards and the fact that he ran a bookstore).  Nothing quite like a local land-owner’s son thinking he’s better than all those around him and grinding those “below” him beneath his boots to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Aziraphale did his best to ignore the young man when he was obliged to leave the shop, but sometimes it was unavoidable when the brute would try to use his large body to block his path and cause trouble. If he had to guess, he’d also say the young man targeted him because the young woman he fancied started spending so much time in his shop. (A ridiculous notion, honestly, as Aziraphale was just as annoyed by her frequent presence there as he was.)

A day or two later, the young woman appeared in his doorway once again. Tucking away a lock of brown hair that had freed itself from her ribbon, she smiled at Aziraphale as he approached from behind the counter. 

“Back already?” he said. It sounded friendly enough, it really did, for Aziraphale was not one to be rude.  He was ever the gentleman.

“Oh, yes, Monsieur Fell, I could hardly put it down,” she replied with great excitement. “Do you mind if I borrow another?”

Aziraphale was resigned to his fate of letting her borrow books, despite his own desire to keep them all locked away for his own enjoyment, as the girl did not take any polite form of “no” for an answer and he was not the sort to be impolite for no reason (and often when he did have reason, but that was neither here nor there). It was not that he disliked the girl entirely, as he did admire her love of reading and her impeccable manners when she visited his shop.  

“You know my rules, Mademoiselle. Feel free to see what piques your interest.”  

(His rules were actually “stop taking my books”, but that would be a funny rule to enforce when you’re running a bookshop and expecting it to stay open.)

She was a flighty young lady at times, but at least she was kind company during her blessedly short visits.  

“Had you heard about the Baker children?” she remarked as she browsed the shelves. “The youngest fell ill. Coughing something awful for days, the poor dear. The doctor even told her parents they shouldn’t expect her to recover.”

“How dreadful! Are they really so certain of it?” 

“That’s just the thing, Monsieur Fell! She’s nearly better now! Madam Baker’s been telling everyone that someone left this strange medicine pouch on their doorstep for the child. She told my father that they were going to lose their child anyway, so they were willing to try anything--and it worked!  She says it was a gift from above… which, if you ask me, must be the case because no one saw who delivered it and the doctor is completely baffled.”

“Well, I’m truly grateful the child was saved. A blessing indeed.” 

Aziraphale gave her a polite smile, but not one with such friendliness to invite more conversation. It seemed like an utterly foolish idea to give a sick child any kind of randomly-appearing medicine, but who was he to question desperate parents? Besides, if he did remark on his own thoughts, then the young woman might stay longer to gossip (and he very much wished for her to leave so he could get back to his reading).  Thankfully she didn’t seem to have much more to say, as she was distracted by looking over books; not long after, she had selected a new book and was out the door, her nose already between pages.

Once the shop was quiet again, he spared another thought on who the mysterious medicine benefactor could be, as it was definitely not himself. Perhaps another Favoured was in the area? Although that made little sense, as the powers-that-be weren’t exactly known for popping in to give a poor family some medicine and then leaving again, and surely if someone like that was visiting the town where Aziraphale was known to be stationed, they would at least stop in to introduce themselves. He shrugged to himself and settled behind the counter again, sipping his tea as he returned to his book--only for the bell over the door to jingle cheerily again! (Blast that  thing, and blast these customers!) He hardly ever had more than one visitor a day, and most days it was that young woman. Briefly, Aziraphale fretted that another book had met a muddy fate. The Knight stepped from behind the counter, and his mood soured even more when he saw something he wanted to see even less than a customer: his boss. Aziraphale put on his best professional smile and cheeriest voice as he greeted the two men at his door.

“Prince Gabriel, what an honor to see you! And the Knight Sandalphon as well, yes. Always a pleasure to have you.”  

It seemed the two Favoured were attempting to blend in, but doing a shoddy job of it. The prince’s crisp fabrics and pristine cool greys weren’t exactly attire that the average layman would wear in this area. The spotless white and tan outfit of Sandlephon stood out in equal measure; the fabric of one sock alone was worth enough to feed a family in this town for a month. 

“No, no, not ‘Prince’ or ‘Knight’, Aziraphale. We’re here undercover!” Gabriel announced, flashing a pearly-white smile that didn’t quite reach his amethyst eyes. (Sandlephon’s echoed smile was more a barely concealed snarl.) 

Aziraphale quickly nodded and then approached them cautiously. He wasn’t sure why his superiors were visiting him in person like this, but he would be the gracious host no matter what; he does have standards, even for unwelcome guests.  

“Is it safe to speak here?  Are we alone?”  The prince was still smiling as he looked about the shop, but it looked more fake than the gold in Sandalphon’s front teeth. Aziraphale could take lessons. 

“Of course, let me just lock up and adjust the sign,” the Knight replied. “So no one accidentally walks in on us.” 

He did just that, sliding the lock into place and feeling quite unnerved at having to turn his back on the two of them… which was just silly, he knew. They were Favored, the Good Guys. It shouldn’t be worrisome to have the good guys behind you, right?  Yet, just having them both in the same town (much less right there in his personal space) made Aziraphale very nervous indeed. He flipped the door sign to “Closed” and then turned back to his guests. 

“Now. How can I help you, gentlemen?”  

His voice was even, calm, keeping the nervousness he felt well hidden.

“We’re just stopping in to see how things are going with the Fallen monster lurking about. Any news?” 

Gabriel’s eyes seemed to flash with something that Aziraphale could not name, which tapped him further along the edge of unease.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, with regret. “Not even a shriek in the night. I’ve searched practically everywhere for its lair. Nothing in the usual places like cemeteries, bogs, or ditches… I even looked into one of the supposedly haunted homes at the edge of town. All I found there was some rats. Well, actually a lot of rats. None of them Fallen either, just normal rats.”

Ah--he was babbling. He shut himself up. 

“That is most troubling news, Aziraphale!” the prince exclaimed, looking disappointed. “You need to find this Fallen and find out what it’s been doing.  I mean, we all know it’s up to no good--it’s a Fallen!” 

Gabriel laughed at his own joke, if one could call it a joke.  Which, it really wasn’t.

Aziraphale gave a mild fake chuckle so as to not upset Gabriel. Sandalphon managed a sneer. 

“I assure you, I will find this Fallen and thwart its evil wiles. The good news is that I’ve settled in peacefully and no one here suspects a thing.  They all think I’m just a scholarly old bookseller.”

“Now, that is great news! You can sneak right up on that Fallen!” Gabriel gave his hands a soft clap before rubbing them together, looking pleased. “He won’t suspect a thing!”

“Exactly.”  

He had to remind himself to remain cordial. Keep smiling. Act friendly. Just some good old boys discussing murder. No trouble at all. They’d leave him alone soon enough, and Aziraphale could return to what he wanted to do, instead of what he ought to be doing.  Frankly, if the Fallen he was sent to “remove” wasn’t causing any trouble, then he didn’t feel the need to bother with it at all. But his superiors didn’t need to know that. 

“Well, we’ll just get going so you can get back to work finding that Fallen! The sooner it’s found, the sooner you can come on home,” the Prince told him, like he assumed Aziraphale was as sick of being here as he was. “And don’t you worry, we’ll continue to check in on you from time to time! Make sure everything is going according to plan, that kind of thing.”

“That’s most gracious of you, sir.” 

The last thing Aziraphale wanted was them popping in too often and finding out that he was not, in fact, doing his job as correctly as they thought he was. It wasn’t like he was completely ignoring his duties: he watched over the town and made sure everyone in it was safe (reasonably). There were plenty of times when a hungry family would find a basket of food on their doorstep, left there by an unknown benefactor.  Others would find a few extra coins in the dirt on the same day the rent was due that would be just enough to cover the amount they lacked. The homeless always seemed to have a soft blanket and a hot drink to keep them warm at night.  All of these little ‘coincidences’ were just a few kindnesses he’d done for the townsfolk since his arrival, small but positive changes that surely made a difference for the better. Finding a Fallen who hadn’t made itself known and wasn’t causing any trouble to speak of was not his top priority. The Prince and his Knight moved to leave, and Aziraphale remembered something he’d wanted to ask them.  

“Oh!  Am I to assume that you were the ones to deliver that special medicine to a sick child a few days ago? The parents are saying it was a blessing and are most thankful.”

Gabriel’s face took on an exaggerated frown as he thought for a moment.

“Nope, wasn’t us, not our department.” He looked to Sandalphon, who nodded in confirmation. “We just arrived this morning and have no interest in… local affairs.  That’s your area.”

That was a surprise, and yet not.

“Yes, I... I suppose it is.  Must’ve been another kind-hearted fellow who beat  me to it,” Aziraphale replied, with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

“It seems your positive influence is leaving its mark on others. Keep up the good work! I’m so pleased you’re able to vigorously hunt for that Fallen and still make time for good deeds.” 

Gabriel was beaming at Aziraphale as he and his Knight headed out, and Aziraphale wanted to feel pride in that praise but something behind that smile made Aziraphale want to jump right out of his skin. He waited until the door slammed shut and the shop was empty again to let out a long, slow breath of relief. 

There was a reason why Aziraphale accepted positions that took him away from the elevated castle that Her people preferred, a reason why he loved posing as a bookkeeper instead of playing his role as a Favoured Knight: those fake smiles and pleasant voices were never as friendly or happy as they seemed. There was always... something hidden just beneath them that gave Aziraphale pause. He was a Favoured, but didn’t truly belong amongst their numbers and he knew that. In his bones, he hated the cold edge in those looks, the disdain, the disgust, the warning. Stay where you are. Know your place. 

There was no reason to threaten him. He was here, and he was doing his job--he was just doing it at his own pace and enjoying what he could along the way.  The city had more warmth in strangers then he had ever found in the pristine pillars of the palace.

——————————————————

Just to note, I am posting the full story here and on AO3.  Also... still have no idea what I am doing.

HUGE THANK YOU TO @brstudios for her editing, ideas, ear to jabber on, and friendship.  She really wanted this AU too, so I hope I am doing her a happy.

[ivadeshin]

Careful Steps (Essik/Caleb) (4/4)

(catch up over on ao3)

It is ten minutes past seven, and Caleb Widogast was due at six for dinner and dunamancy. Until tonight, Caleb has never once been late.

Shadowhand Essik Theylas sits in his library and reflects upon his possible failure.

Ruanill has been an honest and dedicated servant for several years now. Essik has no doubt that Ruanill’s account is accurate and that his estimation of the firbolg’s intentions is, at the very least, worth considering. Essik has come to the conclusion that it is very possible that Caduceus Clay made, even after Ruanill’s positive declarations, that the match was a poor one for some reason. 

There would be no shame in this. A firbolg’s standards for what makes a fine person or finely selected partner are a complete mystery to Essik. Caduceus was a queer sort who was clearly bonded to the soil and not to any particular line drawn across it, and Essik felt sure that any amount of Empire research would leave him poorly prepared for understanding the firbolg’s values.

“Shadowhand?” Ruanill stands in the doorway with the dessert wine. Essik looks from the library hearth to his empty glass, sighs, and extends his hand for a second glass.

Ruanill looks ready to say something. Or for Essik to say something. Essik does not indulge this desire.

Ruanill turns first - his ears pricked up, looking toward the hall. Essik hears it next, notices Ruanill has forgotten his duties, and reaches his other hand out to tip the wine bottle back up before it spills over the rim.

“Someone approaches my door and you forget yourself,” Essik says evenly. “I’ve been said to be a solitary man, but you certainly put a fine point on it.”

“I apologize, Shadowhand.” Ruanill swallows and pulls the wine bottle back to his chest, moving back to the doorway. “Elamas and I have been discussing Mr. Widogast’s lateness, and were concerned that something may have happened to him.”

Did that seem to be so much more likely than the human simply choosing not to attend? Essik has no time to ask - Ruanill has bowed and exited, and quiet voices are coming from the hall. Elamas is speaking, and then - yes, Caleb, voice high and tense - and there are footsteps. Essik pushes his shoulders back, sets his glass down, and rises from the settee to receive his guest.

Caleb looks unusually rugged, wearing his original Kryn attire with scuffs across the charcoal boots and muted purple coat. His hair is somewhat out of place, and - his jawline and cheeks are obscured by the red-brown scruff of his beard coming back in. Something stirs in Essik’s chest that he cannot stifle.

“Good evening, Caleb Widogast.” Essik bows very shortly at the waist, allowing some of his concern to shine through. Caleb does not look injured, but Essik realizes now that he smells like... a cave. “Are you well?”

“I fucked up,” Caleb says curtly, and then freezes, puts his hand over his face, and takes a breath. “I - we were out of spells. I meant to ask Jester or Caduceus to send you a message, and by the time I remembered, we were all spent. I’m sorry.”

Essik drifts forward, receiving Caleb with a gentle nod and gesturing him toward the settee to get some warmth from the fire. He knows better than to ask for his coat - Elamas gave up after the second visit. “You are hardly an hour late. Is the rest of your group well? What exhausted you so?”

Caleb allows himself to be directed, although his head is still ducked apologetically. Even as weary as he is, he seems to feel the weight of his late arrival very heavily. “We’re fine, danke, we made it out fine... it was the last portal. Out in the Ghostlands. Our direct route there worked, downhill, but even with the moorbounders, we... had to take a roundabout way back. I expected us to return to the city early yesterday, not an hour ago.”

The last of those damned portals, finally out of the way. Essik takes a breath. “You have just returned from a long journey. You must be hungry.”

“No, no, I ate a bead on Jannik, I am fine.”

It takes a moment for Essik to remember that Caleb named his moorbounder. “I- ah.” Essik settles on the arm chair adjacent, giving Caleb a few feet of room. “Are you here to provide a report? I cannot imagine you want to practice, it sounds like all of you have exhausted yourselves to return.”

“Nein, I - we’ll go to the Bright Queen in the morning. Or I can write something down for you, if you like...” Caleb gestures in the air. “I knew you’d be waiting. And that Elamas would have cooked something. I came to apologize.”

This situation was unexpected, but Essik mostly feels relief that Caleb’s absence was not, in fact, a sign of being driven away by a companion’s suggestion, or by Essik himself. He raises a hand to wave it away. “I am very familiar with unusual work and unforeseen changes. It is just good to see that you are well.”

Caleb smiles in relief, shoulders loosening. The firelight flickers across his face, complementing his skin as if it were made to do so. “You don’t have to be so nice, you know.”

Essik is drawn from his reverie. “I beg your pardon?”

“Pretending I don’t make blunders all the time. Taking me out for these expensive dinners. Nein,” He holds up a hand, stopping Essik. “I know those aren’t comped by work, no matter how much of this is...” He gestures between them, ducking his head and looking to the side.

Something clicks in Essik’s mind. “You think our interactions have been... directed?” 

Caleb shrugs. “I have been a cog before. I am not asking you to tell me every detail of what you were asked to do, or what the greater plan is. I understand the Bright Queen wants to keep us as informants. I am comfortable with that alliance.”

“Caleb, I-” Essik pushes himself up from the chair, feeling an unusual moment of hesitance before moving closer and sitting across from Caleb on the setttee. From here, he can see Caleb’s mild surprise as he reads Essik’s serious expression. “I believe you have taken many proven facts and arranged them into an incorrect conclusion.”

Caleb swallows, the color of his cheeks and ears rising in what is now a familiar flush to Essik. “About... which part?”

“Informants are glorified messengers. They may do some spy work to gain new intel, but beyond that, their only value is in what they can tell us.” Essik knows this must be old news to Caleb, but he needs to emphasize a contrast: “Allies have agency. They are worth more than their intel; they have agency, they may even have desires or requests that we grant in order to keep a positive relationship. If they tell us something to help us meet our personal or our mutual goals, all the better. But it is not all they are.”

“So you’re pointing out that we can also fight, and that we’ve also been pressing the Bright Queen to consider less bloody alternatives.” Caleb tilts his head side to side. “That is fair.”

“And,” Essik adds, suppressing frustration that this has to be said explicitly. “allies are treated as equals. They are not pressed or manipulated for whatever information they may have.”

Caleb swallows. “So you are saying... you are not manipulating me.”

“I am not.”

“Then, the dinners? The compliments? The, the tutelage?”

Essik maintains composure as he chooses his words. “The tutelage is exactly as I have framed it. You wish to learn dunamancy to achieve goals that benefit both our sides. And you learn remarkably quickly, so it is hardly a deep investment of my time.”

A beat. “And the rest?” Caleb’s voice sounds very small now. His eyes are still elsewhere, so Essik tries to keep him at ease by keeping his own gaze on the fire.

“Those are in the efforts of my own goals, not the Dynasty’s.”

“I used to wonder...” Caleb gives a short laugh. “I said once that I thought you might be buttering me up for, for some kind of Kryn’s equivalent of the Scourgers... but nobody agreed with me.”

The other defectors? Essik feels his ears twitch up minutely, betraying his interest. “And what were there theories, pray tell?”

“That, um.” Caleb’s second laugh sounds more forced. “After the flowers for our yard, a few days ago, Caduceus said he believed Beau’s theory, that you were pursuing me.”

Essik sneaks a glance. Caleb’s expression has a tension to it, but if Essik is right, its mix of hesitance also has notes of hopefulness. “And what do you believe now?”

“It... would explain... the tone. Of the way you have been building our relationship.”

“Flowers,” Essik supplies helpfully, now fixing Caleb with a carefully arched brow. “Paying for meals. Ordering them for you on occasion.”

Caleb’s eyes widen and flutter a moment. “Th-those are all... Empire classics, ja.”

“Just as Kryn ‘classics’ include scheduling to meet again before departing. Sharing of wine from each other’s glasses.” Essik lets the moment stretch out a few seconds, watching Caleb blink more rapidly, before continuing. “I believe dining alone together and spending time in the late evening are common in both cultures.”

As Caleb swallows, his throat bobs. “So, it was never about my history with the Empire. Or what I can do.”

“The Academy, you mean.”

“You know?”

“It is an extremely educated guess, from a man very familiar with the sins of the Empire and what happens to gifted children with no prospects.” Essik waves his hand dismissively. “There is no ‘Kryn Scourge’ I wish you to join. And I have great interest in the Academy itself, I have far less for your specific knowledge. If I were to ask for it, you may fall under the impression that it was what I find interesting about you.” Essik sweeps an errant lock of hair back into place. “I wish you to remain an ally to help us fight the Empire, but our interactions have been unrelated to that wish. I trust that has been sufficiently forthright.”

Caleb doesn’t speak for a moment. “I want...” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “I want you to help me eradicate the Academy. And all the other cancer within my homeland.” A chill seems to run through the room. “Or I can help you do it. I don’t care who strikes the final blow, who gets fanfare, if anyone does at all. I just want it gone.” The conviction in his voice is unquestionable - Essik is too well trained to waste time doubting him. “And,” the human adds, “I have been trying not to make an absolute ass of myself the past few weeks because of how much I didn’t want my personal interest in you to jeopardize that mission.”

Essik’s feels his heart rate pick up, just a fraction. “That has been your struggle, during our meetings?”

“During our - during our d-” Caleb flusters on the word, face tinged pink as he straightens and looks past Essik, toward the glass of wine on the end table. “What was the wine tradition? I fucked it up, didn’t I?” He gestures almost absentmindedly, using mage hand to bring the glass in front of Essik. Startled, Essik takes it. “Here. I will do it properly, this time.”

Essik blinks for a moment. This is a dessert wine, part of him wants to say, but he does not want to ruin this moment of redemption for Caleb. “This is a sweet elderberry wine,” he says with a hint of formality, holding the glass up and then out for Caleb to take it. “The grove is to the west, and this particular vintage is well regarded. Would you like to try a taste?”

Caleb takes the glass, fingers brushing Essik’s and causing more nerves still. Caleb’s eyes flick to Essik’s, awaiting direction of what to say, but Essik remains silent. “Yes, thank you,” Caleb says unsteadily. Essik nods just a touch. Caleb takes a cautious sip of the wine, making a point to savor it.

Essik takes this opportunity to capture this moment in his mind. Caleb’s lashes are fanned across his cheeks, the color still risen on his skin where the firelight touches it. His long fingers, careful on the stem of the glass, are trembling ever so slightly.

“It is delicious,” Caleb breathes. He holds the glass out, then stops short. “Is that - now what?”

Essik can’t help but hold back a smile. “Now you would offer me a taste of whatever you were drinking,” he replies gently, a little apologetic; Caleb had seemed so dead set on righting this now, Essik didn’t have the heart to contradict him.

“Ah.” Caleb is, Essik can tell, thinking back to the several times they did this in restaurants, and Essik was left completely hanging by a ridiculously unobservant dining partner. “Ja, that, that would make sense.” He hands the glass back off to the mage hand, which places it back on the end table.

“It is behind us,” Essik says, too charmed now to think back on those events with anything but amusement. “I was too presumptuous about what would translate across borders.”

“We can improvise,” Caleb says, almost to himself, and then locks eyes with Essik, startling him with the amount of focus and intent. Slowly, deliberately, Caleb reaches a hand up, taking Essik’s cheek with just the barest amount of contact before leaning in and pressing their lips together, softly, still at first and then moving with purpose. Essik returns the kiss, feeling his body stir with a rare surge of desire as Caleb opens his mouth and offers his tongue, shyly, until Essik determines his meaning and allows him in. When Essik chases down the taste of the wine on Caleb’s tongue, the human moans and moves his hand to clutch at his shoulder.

Caleb pulls back for air first. Essik, caught up in the thrill of the moment, reaches out to mirror what Caleb had done, palm light on the human’s cheek. The beard is rough. Soft. Both.

“I think we’re communicating better,” Caleb jokes quietly in the silence of the room.

Essik permits himself to brush his thumb across Caleb’s jawline. Caleb’s eyelashes flutter. “One cannot argue with the improved results,” Essik agrees. Caleb’s cheeks rises in a grin. “Caleb.”

“Yes?”

“I would have you remain here tonight. And stay in my bed. I would please you, and take you, until we both had our fill.”

Caleb’s eyes widen and, in a reaction of shock now familiar to Essik, stares into the middle distance. “Well, that is certainly. Well communicated.”

“If you do not wish to do this tonight, or ever, you need only tell me.”

“Nein, I-” The human swallows again, and this time, Essik allows himself to watch his throat bob. Caleb notices the attention and flushes deeper. It is a marvelous color. “Tonight. Yes. Now?”

“If you wish.” He can feel a pleased smile developing at the corners of his mouth.

It deepens as Caleb rises to his feet swiftly, already moving to the door and reaching for Essik to follow.

[ko-fi]

[ao3]

[noona-clock]

Whatever You Want to Call it - Part 3

Genre: Office!AU

Pairing: Jackson x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

The whole Copy Room Disaster incident really made you stop and think. 

Yes, training Jackson had thrown a wrench in your job responsibilities, of which you now had more than usual since being assigned a project manager. Yes, Jackson was extremely chatty and the most Eager Beaver -- no, actually, the better way to describe him would be as an Eager Puppy. He definitely had a dog-like quality to him because he was hard-working and dedicated and super adorable.

You had never denied the fact Jackson was cute. More than cute, actually. He was downright gorgeous with a body to match. And he had a way of making himself look even cuter when he either was listening intently to you or felt he was in trouble for some reason. So calling him an Eager Puppy was probably the most accurate description in the world.

But anyway.

Yes, training Jackson had been inconvenient. But he was your co-worker, whether you liked it or not. He was a fellow employee, and more importantly, he was a fellow human being. (Although, with his good looks, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually an extraterrestrial being.)

It was really only right that you give him a fair chance. And your boss was right: what did it say about you if you couldn’t handle managing a project and training an employee? It said you valued your own career over someone else’s, and while that might be true, you did still care about your fellow man.

You were ambitious and career-driven not heartless.

So you had spent the past two weeks really and truly training Jackson.

You still found him slightly annoying, but you had to admit: you no longer disliked him. If anything, you were just indifferent. Which was a lot better than disliking him, wouldn’t you say?

I mean, it’s not like you looked forward to seeing him every day, but you didn’t necessarily dread it. And you could tell Jackson was a lot more comfortable, a lot happier. It was obvious you didn’t resent him anymore, so your dynamic was just a lot easier.

All in all, things were pretty okay. Not great but not horrible. And you really couldn’t ask for more at the moment.

Well, things were a bit more than okay now because it was Friday. You loved your job, and you kind of preferred going to work than not going to work, but you did still love the weekend. You enjoyed this small bit of time off even if you were always ready to head back to the office come Monday morning.

As you slung your bag over your shoulder after shutting down your computer, you let out a soft sigh and headed out of your cube toward the elevator. You almost ran into someone as soon as you stepped away from your desk, though, a breathy, startled cry escaping your lips.

“Oops!” Jackson chuckled, stopping suddenly as his hands darted out to steady you. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no worries,” you replied with a little smile.

“Heading out?”

You hummed positively, continuing on toward the elevator when Jackson held an arm out to usher you to go first.

“What are your plans for the weekend?” he asked as he fell into step next to you.

“Oh,” you began, a bit taken off guard by his question. You weren’t sure why but probably because the two of you hadn’t really had many personal conversations before. “Um... Nothing, really. Just relaxing, I guess.”

“Good, you deserve to relax.”

And before you could say anything or ask him why he thought you deserved to relax, he continued on.

“My sister is in town, so she’s bringing my niece over for some quality Uncle Jackson time,” he beamed. “I’ll be busy taking her everywhere and spoiling her and avoiding my sister’s scolding.”

“Sounds fun,” you said with a soft chuckle. But deep down you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt; he was scolded by his co-worker and his sister.

He was a grown man, though! He could handle it! Stop feeling sorry for him!

When you reached the elevators, Jackson continued on toward the stairwell, lifting up a hand and bidding you a nice weekend.

“You, too,” you replied with a nod, trying to tamp down the shame of taking the elevator. Not that he was judging you, but... I mean, maybe he was. On the inside.

Okay, what was your deal? First, you felt guilty for scolding him. Now, you felt ashamed for taking the elevator?!

Ugh. It was actually ridiculous.

Thankfully, by the time you arrived back at your townhouse about half an hour from the city, you’d completely forgotten about Jackson.

As was your Friday tradition, you placed an order for takeout (Chinese tonight), pulled up a cheesy romantic comedy on Netflix, selected a face mask to use, a new nail polish color, your comfiest pajamas...

You knew how to work hard, so you definitely knew how to relax hard.

But... the thing about relaxing hard... you couldn’t really do it for long. By Saturday afternoon, you were itching to be productive. 

You didn’t have any extra work you’d brought home, so that was out of the question. You definitively were not going into the office on a weekend. 

You’d hired a cleaning lady a few years back, so there was no vacuuming or dusting or scrubbing or anything to do around your place.

What else could you do?

Well, what else did you do when you were out of ideas? You called Jinyoung.

“What’s up?” Jinyoung answered after the second ring. You could always count on him to answer promptly, especially when you really needed to talk to him. It was like he was psychic or something...

“I’m bored, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how someone can get bored in this day and age. With all the technology we have?! Watch Netflix!”

“I already did last night!”

“What, you watched all of Netflix and can’t watch anything else?” he countered.

“Just talk to me and be a good friend,” you demanded with a roll of your eyes.

“Okay, fine. What’s new in the world of Y/N?”

“Well... not much...” Before you could stop yourself, you brought up your encounter with You Know Who yesterday. “Jackson asked me what my plans were this weekend as we were leaving work.”

“...Okay? So?”

“I mean, don’t you think that’s weird?”

“...No. I don’t think that’s weird, actually. I think it’s very normal.”

“Yeah, but why was he being so nice to me? It’s not like we’re friends.”

“Maybe he was being nice to you because he’s a nice guy. And...”

You paused, waiting for him to finish. But he didn’t.

“And what?” you asked.

“And I think he kinda likes you.”

“What?!” you cried with an astonished laugh. “He does not!”

“How would you know? You’re too busy ignoring him and hating him to notice anything these days.”

“I do not hate him!” you corrected, clearly offended. “I’m just indifferent to him now.”

“Whatever,” Jinyoung chuckled. “My point is, I don’t think he feels the same way.”

“Why did I call you again?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Because I’m a good friend, and you constantly need my help and advice --”

“I do not. I don’t need your help, I just like talking to you.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I forgot you have that weird thing about help.”

“...What weird thing?”

“Never mind. Listen, I’m at the movies with Emily. Can I call you later?”

“Jesus, Jinyoung! If you’re with your girlfriend, you don’t have to answer your phone when I call! Have fun, watch the movie, and don’t even think about Jackson’s feelings for me.”

“I won’t,” he assured you immediately. “And you think of something to keep you busy.”

After you heard the line disconnect, you let out a deep sigh as you set your phone on the kitchen counter. Well, great. That had done nothing but stir up thoughts of Jackson maybe having feelings for you.

Come on, there had to be something productive you could do.

You gazed around your kitchen, lips pursed in thought... when your running shoes sitting by the laundry room door caught your eye.

Aha!

A little exercise never hurt anyone, right?

Since you lived a bit farther out from the city, you weren’t limited to the bustling streets or a crowded gym; in fact, there was a pretty nice park nearby with sprawling lawns, sports fields, playgrounds, and miles of trails for walking and running. The weather was fairly nice outside, if not a bit chilly, so why not?

It only took about ten minutes for you to change into some more appropriate clothes (since pajamas definitely wouldn’t do the job), and then you were off to the park. 

While you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a frequent runner, you did enjoy the peace and quiet it granted you. It gave you time to think, something you rarely got at work - especially since you’d started training Jackson.

To be fair, though, Jackson was super helpful. And he was learning quickly, as he’d told you at the very beginning. Most likely, you wouldn’t have to train him for much longer. And then you could get back to your condominium project, focus all of your energy on that. Jackson would most likely be on your team, of course, since he now knew the ins and outs of the project from being at your side for the past few weeks, so it’s not like you would really get a break from him, but --

Wait, was that --

...Were you thinking too much about Jackson and were now suddenly seeing visions of him outside of work? Did Jinyoung bringing him up cause some kind of... weird curse or something?

Or...

“Y/N!”

Oh, no. That was definitely Jackson’s voice calling your name, and that was definitely Jackson jogging over toward you with a little girl clinging to his neck.

Seriously? Why would Jackson be at the park by your house with his -- he’d said his niece was coming to visit, right? Yeah, his niece. Definitely his niece.

You plucked one earbud out, plastering on a smile as you slowed to a halt on the running trail. “Jackson,” you greeted breathlessly once he’d arrived close enough. “Hey, small world.”

“I live around here. This park has the best playgrounds, so I wanted to bring Aimee. Oh, this is Aimee, by the way,” he said, smiling at the little girl he was holding and rubbing her back. “Aimee, this is Y/N. We work together.”

The little girl simply buried her face in Jackson’s neck, and he chuckled softly.

“She’s adorable,” you grinned. “You guys having fun?”

“Oh, absolutely. Aimee loves Uncle Jackson, right?” He poked his finger into her side, his eyes lighting up when she giggled. “Right? Who is the best uncle in the world, huh?”

Aimee squirmed away from his tickles, though she still squealed out his name with glee.

Oh, good lord she was cute. It had been a while since you’d been around kids, probably since last Christmas when you’d flown back home to see your family. You had nieces and nephews, too, but you certainly weren’t the Cool Aunt.

...What did that say about you? What did it say that your brother never came to visit you with his kids? That your nieces and nephews never clung to you like Aimee was clinging to Jackson?

“Sorry to bother you,” Jackson said, successfully interrupting your (verging on an existential crisis) thoughts. “Just thought I’d say ‘hello’ real quick, introduce you to my niece. You go on back to running.”

“O--oh, okay,” you stammered. You managed a half-smile before Jackson turned back around, setting Aimee down and immediately running after her, screaming that he was the Tickle Monster coming to get her.

You shook your head before resuming your own run, setting your earbud back in place and trying to let your music drown out your thoughts.

And while you did stop wondering why you weren’t close with your family... you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over at Jackson and Aimee (and a woman you presumed to be Jackson’s sister). You saw him pushing her on the swings, helping her down the slide, picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders. And then, when she fell and scraped her knee, you saw him carry her to a bench and coddle her.

It was too freaking cute and too freaking unfair.

Unfair because now you found you were barely thinking about anything else. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Jackson and how good he was with his niece and how adorable they were and how adorable he was and how naturally he took care of her and how --

Suddenly, your foot stepped on something - a small rock, it would seem - and it threw you off just enough to send you tumbling to the ground. You felt your ankle twist as you fell, a sharp pain shooting up your calf. You cried out as your arms flew out to break your fall, the cement digging into your palms and knees.

Oh, shit.

Had you really just tripped on a rock because you’d been too distracted thinking about Jackson?!

Part 4

[pkmn-fangamer]

Pokémon Solar Light & Lunar Dark Review

Intro:

The game starts in Soltree Town in the players room. The player is sitting in front of his/her TV and is watching a battle between two Pokémon trainers. Your mother comes in and tells you that your best friend, Rodney, is waiting for you downstairs to get your first Pokemon from Prof. Pinewood. You walk to the lab with Rodney and the Professor lets you choose one of three Pokemon. After choosing your starter, Rodney runs out of the lab. The Professor tells you about a young girl named Keira, who is getting the last Pokémon, but it seems that she has forgotten it. After finding Keira in Mossy Town her mother tells you to go back to your house, because your mother has a gift for you. Back in Soltree Town you receive the PokéCom and the Running Shoes from your parents.

From then on, the player will set off on adventures through the Rikoto region. Along the way, the player, Rodney, and Keira will battle eight Gym Leaders, while trying to complete the Pokédex. After managing to obtain all eight Badges, the player will head to the Pokémon League to battle the Elite Four and the Champion.

How to Play:

Download and extract this file to the folder of your choice. If you don’t have a program to unzip files, I recommend Peazip, which is safe and works well. Once extracted, double “Game.exe” to play.

Story:

The story progresses like a main series game’s plot. It’s notably most similar to RSE/ORAS, because there are two evil teams present: Team Solar and Team Lunar. They’re racing to find specific stones to revive and control their respective legendary of interest. Unfortunately, the climax of their role in the story is pretty disappointing to me, but I won’t say any further so not to spoil you. Aside from the villains, you have your usual tree-based professor, a few rivals, and your eight gym leaders. There’s also a mega evolution specialist, who battles in her castle, and is portrayed as unofficial gym leader. I especially liked this detail.

The characters are just okay, and dialogue can be a little jumbled at time. I like that you have three rivals rather than one, but they’re not very well fleshed out. Each has a gimmick, but not much personality past that. The gym leaders were also okay, but not overly memorable. The only honorable mention is Jax of the Elite Four, who I believe should have been the champion of the game.

There are some adult themes present in the story, but I don’t mean this in an explicit sort of way. Rather, the game addresses adult issues you’d find in the real world. For example, to use the taxi service in Rustbolt City, you need to battle their boss to convince him to pay his workers more, as they’re on strike at the time. You are also asked to steal for a robber at one point during a quest, which is pretty neat.

Overall, the plot and characters weren’t too impressive, but they weren’t terrible, either. There was a good foundation for both that was lost along the way, it seems. However, the story and characters are still serviceable and fulfill their overarching role.

Score: 7/10

Pokemon:

In this game, there are Fakemon instead of Pokemon, and this can be seen as either good or a bad. While the sprite work for the Fakemon grew on me, some are heavily based on already existing Pokemon. Also, some Pokemon don’t have the highest design quality. Lastly, many of the better Fakemon don’t evolve until they’re pretty high leveled, anywhere from the high 30s to the low 50s, kind of like in Gen 5. This can be seen either as a good or a bad thing, I suppose.

Luckily, there’s a lot of good things about the Fakemon too. First is the sheer amount of them: there are 358 Fakemon to choose from, which is more original Pokemon than have ever been put into a new game at once. This gives you a huge selection to choose from, so no two people will ever have the same team. The downside of this is it’s hard to keep track of them all. However, there are some great ones to choose from, whose movepools and abilities have been handpicked with care.

The original moves made for this game are also a nice touch. One that stood out to me is Thunder Strike, which is a nice middling electric move that’s more powerful than Thunder Shock, but less powerful than Thunderbolt.

I also absolutely love that your first party Pokemon walks with you. This is a feature that really should be brought back in main series games, and the fact that they took the time to draw all 358 original Fakemon (and each shiny form!) as walking companions is very impressive.

Score: 8/10

Gameplay:

In terms of difficulty, this game is very middling. It’s not too easy or hard. If you battle all the trainers and a good portion of wild Pokemon during your journey, gym leaders won’t be overly difficult. However, grinding in this game can be difficult without the presence of the speed button, so keep this in mind when you use a repel or skipping trainer battles.

One of my favorite attributes in a fan game is a lack of HMs, and I was pleasantly surprised that this game replaced HMs with key items. This opens up a fifth slot in your party; no HM slaves needed!

The gameplay in SLLD (Solar Light & Lunar Dark) is brought to life through its attention to detail in many areas. I’d say you can spend up to two hours in almost every town and its surrounding area, just doing quests, finding hidden items, and talking to NPCs without getting bored. There are so many places to explore, each with a completely different set of Pokemon.

My biggest grip in this area is the length of space between towns. The worst example of this is the journey between Waytide City and Coralite Town. In the space between them, there is Route 9, then Goopool Swamp, then Route 10A, then Rainbow Reef, then Route 10B, then finally Coralite Town. There is one single player to heal your Pokemon in this entire stretch, and if you don’t bring a ton of healing items and repels, there’s no way you’ll make it the whole way continuously. There’s also a ton of trainers on every route, too many in my opinion, and if you don’t battle them all, you’re destined to be underleveled for gym battles.

Score: 8.5/10

Art/Music:

The overworld art is well done, mostly in Gen 5 style. I haven’t seen art like this in another fan game yet, so props for that.

Original music can be found in about 80% of the game, and is generally well-composed. I rarely found myself listening to other music while playing the game. It’s very electronic, and comparable to Gen 5, but I actually like this soundtrack better than the Unova one. This brought me to wonder: why is such a common track, the wild battle music, from Sinnoh when almost all other music is original? This also goes for the Pokemon Center and a few other themes. My best guess is that composing those tracks would have taken a lot of time.

In terms of character art, most of it is solid. However, the female player character is obviously heavily inspired by Lyra from HGSS. The sprite isn’t bad per say, but it is very obvious. On the other hand, the male player character looks very original.

There are a few visual/sound errors that I would fix. First, the selection highlight isn’t apparent enough. This may seem minor, but this can be the difference between winning a battle or losing if you accidentally switch in the wrong Pokemon. Additionally, both the sound for stat rising and falling is the same- it always sounds like your stat is going up. There are also a couple of Pokemon missing their cries when sent into battle.

Score: 8.5/10

Misc:

The fan content for this game is pretty great. There’s a very active discord channel, and a pretty up-to-date, accurate wiki.

Overall:

One stand-out quality of this game is the sheer amount of content it contains. Before I mentioned the amount of Pokemon created, and this goes for the size of the map as well. There are more towns and areas of interest in this game than any individual region, and as a result you can get in a huge amount of playtime. I ended my run-through with almost 30 hours. However, the downside to inserting a massive amount of content into anything can make the issue of quality control. While the quality of most things in this game is above average, some things did suffer a bit. For example, there are so many routes and areas, it probably was impossible to compose music for all of them. As a result, the Surf and Bike theme are both the cheesy Pokemon Essentials themes.

On the topic of glitches: unfortunately, there are a handful of them. Most aren’t game breaking, but the one that stood out to me is the fishing contest one. When you are warped to the fishing contest, you’re trapped inside the building’s roof instead of in front of the building. As a result, you have to open your menu and quit the contest, automatically putting you in last place. Another is in the Subhail Icecaps towards the end of the game. The game can barely handle surfing in this area, and constantly stalls, almost crashing whenever you surf.

Overall, I would recommend this game to almost any Pokemon lover. I’d especially recommend this one for Unova lovers, as this game is a fresh new adventure quite reminiscent of that region. If you’re looking for a traditional Pokemon game with Fakemon in it, this game should be a winner for you.

Final Score: 8.5/10

[raywritesthings]

Dear Friend, 1/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Joanna de la Vega Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: When Felicity decides to get serious about Ray, she knows it won’t be a good idea for Oliver to be hanging around. So she turns to the world of online dating to keep him distracted. Unknown to the both of them, over the summer Joanna had set Laurel up with an online dating account in the hopes that her friend could move on from past failed relationships. There’s only one way this can end. *Can also be read on my AO3*

Not for the first time, Felicity wondered what she was going to do about Oliver.

After what had seemed an age, he had finally asked her out and they were going to give things a shot — only for him to back out thanks to a bomb going off in the restaurant. Definitely not her usual fantasy ending.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been hurt. He’d tried to tell her it wasn’t due to a lack of feelings on his part, but Felicity wasn’t really interested in what his excuse was. If he really loved her, he would want to be with her no matter what. She’d waited too long to settle for anything less.

And then things had changed.

Put off as she’d been by her new day job boss at first, Ray Palmer had quickly grown on her. Lifting her out of the secretarial pool had been a small mercy, for one thing. She would have rather stayed in her retail job than go back to that. And he was open with her about his past and the things he struggled with, more open than Oliver had been in three years. She felt like he saw her and as more than just a last resort.

Ray was...something. A something she sort of wanted to see what it might become. But that was never going to happen with Oliver and the specter of their nonstarter relationship hanging over her. She only had to look back two years to see how he’d single-handedly dismantled Laurel’s chances with Tommy to see where that would go.

Things would be best if Oliver’s attentions were directed elsewhere, that much was clear. But she doubted she could convince him to start a relationship with someone who didn’t even know his secrets if he wasn’t willing to date her and be the Arrow at the same time.

If she could just give him the illusion of pursuit to distract himself with, that might just be enough. He wasn’t any good at hanging onto relationships anyway, so it’d probably be more fun for him to not actually be in one, merely testing the waters of one — or perhaps several, if that was what it took.

Her chances of getting him to try speed-dating were slim to none, at least not in person. But there was a much more convenient alternative she thought far more likely.

“Technology saves the day again,” Felicity thought to herself. Now how to put this in a way he might actually be willing to consider.

She puzzled over that for the rest of the workday and on her drive to the Verdant. When she arrived, she found herself in luck; Oliver was the only one occupying the Cave. The salmon ladder, too. She was really lucky today.

As tended to happen, Felicity’s careful planning came out in a single blurt. “So, I was thinking about your problem.”

Oliver paused on the rung he was currently hanging from and looked down. “My problem?”

“Your dating problem.”

He grimaced and dropped down onto the mat. “Felicity—”

“I know, I’m the last person you want to talk to about this. But let us consider why we are in this situation in the first place.”

Oliver said nothing, but he wasn’t running away either. Not that he had anywhere to run when this was both his base and home. Felicity took this as a sign to continue.

“You don’t feel you can be close to another person while being the Arrow. But you would also like a relationship. So I thought of a way to achieve both of those things.” She reached over to the table where Oliver had placed his phone along with his water and wallet.

“What are you doing?” He was more puzzled than angry-sounding, and he made no move to stop her as she entered his password and went to the app store.

“I am downloading an online dating app and creating an account for you.”

“Online dating?” He echoed, incredulous. Oliver made a grab for the phone, but she pulled it in towards her chest, still typing away. Felicity knew he’d never force it out of her hands even though he could. “I don’t want that.”

“But you need it. You don’t stay single long, Oliver, and there is a long line of ex-girlfriends who can attest to that.”

He didn’t have an argument to deny that, and they both knew it.

Eventually he said, “I don’t think online dating is the best way for someone like me to date, Felicity. I have a reputation that would be hard for a stranger to see past.”

“That’s why it’s anonymous.”

“Anonymous?”

She nodded. “You get a username and a little bio description, and then you match with another person based off the answers you gave to various preference questions. Then after you have a certain number of conversations, you can choose to share your picture or name or whatever.”

“What if you don’t want to?”

“Then don’t,” she said with a shrug. She had to suppress a smile as well, as that was ultimately the goal here: keep Oliver busy with possible romances for as long as possible. She could never see him settling down with one, at any rate.

“So, your username. Any ideas?”

Oliver was silent. Still a reluctant participant, then.

“Hm. Well, what about…” Felicity snapped her fingers. “King of Survival. Get it? Cause surviving is kind of your thing, and the king part is a play on your name. Can’t really use Queen. That would definitely be giving off the wrong vibe,” Felicity said, her smile fading when he didn't laugh. Not that she would’ve expected it. She typed it in and hit the box for the next page. “Anyway, now there’s just the bio and answering some basic questions about preferences.”

She began typing out what she felt to be a fair and accurate description without getting into any incriminating detail. Oliver wandered over a little closer. He looked as though mentally he was starting and stopping several sentences.

“What sort of questions do they ask?”

“The basics. If you’re a neat freak or a slob, cats or dogs, favorite foods. You’re not big on sweets, right?”

“Actually, I — well, I don’t dislike them.”

Felicity looked up in surprise. She would never have guessed. “But you drink black coffee.”

“Sure, because it’s coffee. But I like, you know, ice cream. And Thea and I, every Christmas we used to — well, it doesn’t matter.”

Felicity was glad. She wasn’t particularly interested in Oliver’s Christmas traditions with his sister that had no doubt fallen by the wayside long ago. She held out the phone. “Maybe you should answer the questions.”

He took it and stared down at the screen. “There’s no chance you’re gonna let me just delete this thing, is there?”

“Nope.” Felicity reached out and touched his arm. “Just give it a try. For me?”

Oliver’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she said scarcely before he’d finished. “Okay, so answer the questions, and then you should be all set up and start seeing other profiles.”

Oliver’s deep frown remained throughout as he hit the button for this or that answer. But John and then Roy soon entered the base, meaning she couldn’t really ask. Oliver was going to need privacy if she wanted him to actually try, and something told her John would say this wasn’t a good idea.

As the boys all left the Cave, however, she decided a little peek wouldn’t hurt. Just to make sure he’d finished setting up the profile. To her relief, he had, and slowly more and more matches were being brought up for him to look at.

“That’s one distracted Oliver and me in the clear,” Felicity muttered to herself, locking Oliver’s phone and setting it aside again.

So far so good.

—-

It wasn’t until the next morning that Oliver got around to looking at his phone again, much less the newly-added app. Part of him thought to just ignore it altogether, but the device had been periodically beeping with notifications. Probably as it found new supposed matches for him. This was ridiculous.

Oliver couldn’t even believe he’d agreed to this. What interest did he have in online dating? He wished he could be with Felicity, but it was just too much of a risk. Was this just her way of trying to prove a point to him? He already knew that the life he’d chosen could only be a solitary one.

But he supposed he owed it to her to give it a try. She’d gone ahead and put the app into his phone, anyway, so it was useless to argue whether or not it was happening. And it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do during the daytimes. Even he knew training for the entire day only to fight through most of the night was more of a detriment to his health in the long run than anything. And he’d promised Felicity.

Oliver opened the app and began scrolling down a list displaying accounts that had been selected according to his own preferences. They each had their own username and a short bio attached, and his eyes caught on one in particular.

JusticeIsAWoman

Career-driven. Closer to thirty than I’d like. Slow to get to know, but passionate about the people close to me. Really just looking for a friend.

That could work. At the least, it didn’t really sound like an actual relationship would result — which he didn’t want in the first place, but he didn’t want to hurt some anonymous person’s feelings over it.

He could tell Felicity he’d tried even if it didn’t work out. At the least it wouldn’t be lying.

And something about the bio’s frank tone intrigued him. It felt more authentic, like someone he wouldn’t mind talking to, even if it only lasted a few minutes. And there was no denying the irony of a vigilante pursuing justice.

Nothing ventured…

He hit the icon that opened up a message box and began to type.

—-

Work was not exactly going well today. She was still tired and a bit sore from her workouts at the gym, not that she was about to give those up. It was the only time she really felt alive anymore, not like at the office where she had to pretend everything was fine and that she hadn’t watched her sister’s body fall off a rooftop only a few short weeks ago.

It wasn’t that she hated her job. It just wasn’t enough anymore, not when the city was regularly on the verge of crisis the past few years and the justice system couldn’t even try keeping up. Sitting on the sidelines and watching Oliver and the others do something about it just grew more and more frustrating with each passing day.

It wasn’t as if she could have much of her own life anymore. She was lying to her father about Sara, lying to anyone not on Oliver’s team about the Arrow, and lying to herself about why she kept turning down various invites to go out or be set up with a friend of a colleague. Why not do something worthwhile with the time she wasn’t using?

A vaguely familiar sounding ping came from her purse. Laurel dug around in it for her phone and blinked at the screen. Then she groaned.

“Speak of the devil.”

There was a notification from the dating app Joanna had made her download this past summer. It had been a while since she’d heard anything from it; truthfully Laurel had been pretty sure she’d fended off the majority of any potential suitors, which she realized was not what her friend had wanted at all.

“You need to get back out there,” Joanna had said. “Seriously, Laurel, you have gone through so much, and I don’t want to see you give up on a single part of your life. And that includes relationships.”

“Joanna, I appreciate that, I really do.” Laurel had tried for a smile, not wanting to make her friend feel bad. “But it’s not that I’m not dating because I’m still hung up on some guy.” Not the guy Joanna had probably been thinking of, anyway. “I just really don’t have the time to date around.”

“Who does anymore? That is why all the young professionals have gotten into this nifty thing called online dating.”

She’d suppressed a groan. “I think you mean old people.”

“Yeah, on eHarmony, sure. But there’s sites for busybodies hitting their thirties just like you and me.”

“I’m not sure it’s going to look that great for the ADA to be online dating,” Laurel had said, thinking it an easy-out.

“Then we’ll set you up with one of those anonymous sites,” Joanna had decided. “It’s more for the practice than anything. Just to boost your confidence so you can start dating in the real world again.”

Grudgingly, she’d handed her phone over and let Joanna search for and download an app that met the right specifications.

“Now, you’re gonna need a username. Something kind of mysterious and sexy—”

“I’m not trying to be sexy,” she’d reminded her friend.

“--but still you,” Joanna had continued as though Laurel hadn’t spoken. She’d bitten her lip in a long few minutes of thought, and just when Laurel had begun to hope they’d been stymied before this could really begin, Joanna’s eyes had lit up. “Oh, this one’s perfect!”

Laurel had leaned over the table to watch her friend’s typing. “Justice is a woman?”

“And that woman is you. Come on, it fits.”

She’d coached Laurel through writing a little bio section that didn’t give away any real personal details and a brief questionnaire that was meant to determine her preferences. Laurel had insisted on making it clear she wasn’t really in the market for a relationship; just a friend would do.

“You realize most guys are gonna take that as code for a one-night stand, right?”

Joanna had been right, which had meant a couple solid weeks of slogging through various offers and blocking anyone who sent her an attachment on sight. With a little bit of tweaking, the messages had slowed to a trickle — though most of those were requests to join some pre-existing couple’s threesome since she’d honestly listed her openness towards talking to either men or women once Joanna hadn’t been watching.

But she’d forgotten all about it especially in the wake of Sara’s murder. Laurel unlocked her phone with the full intention to just delete the app, but her eyes caught sight of the message that had been sent.

KingOfSurvival: is the looking for a friend part of your bio for real?

Something about it gave her pause. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell over the internet, but the question seemed genuine. Although she wasn’t sure what to make of that username. The likelihood was that she was reading way too much into it, however, so with that in mind she typed out a terse reply.

JusticeIsAWoman: is that the setup for some kind of ‘change your mind with a dick pic’ maneuver

The reply was almost immediate.

KingOfSurvival: no

KingOfSurvival: I just meant I could use a friend myself. I’m not really on here to see anyone or hookup or anything with pictures

KingOfSurvival: do people really do that?

JusticeIsAWoman: you wouldn’t believe how often

She sat back in her chair, considering the turn this had taken. He wasn’t interested in dating her or sex, but he’d messaged her anyway. And in the middle of the workday. That didn’t exactly speak well for him, but maybe he was on his lunch break. Laurel hadn’t been planning to take one, but there wasn’t anything pressing on her desk at the moment.

JusticeIsAWoman: if you’re not interested in dating, what are you doing on a dating site?

KingOfSurvival: couldn’t I ask you the same?

“Touché,” Laurel muttered under her breath. He’d already sent a second message before she could begin typing.

KingOfSurvival: truth is a friend signed me up for this

JusticeIsAWoman: same thing happened to me

KingOfSurvival: that might say something about the company we both keep

JusticeIsAWoman: is that why you’re looking for new friends

There was a longer wait for his answer, and Laurel chewed her bottom lip, wondering if that remark had been a bit too biting.

KingOfSurvival: I laughed more than I should have at that

KingOfSurvival: but really, I guess my personal life is a little complicated and having someone else to talk to would be nice

Complicated personal life. Well, she doubted it could be as complicated as hers. And really, what was she doing chatting with some random stranger on the internet while her whole world kept getting knocked out from under her?

But having someone else to talk to would be nice. Someone who didn’t see her as all her past mistakes, or as just another fellow alcoholic. Wasn’t that the whole point to this anonymity?

JusticeIsAWoman: well, I don’t know how good I’ll be at it, but I can try to be that someone

JusticeIsAWoman: but there’s no way your personal life is more complicated than mine

KingOfSurvival: we’ll have to agree to disagree on that

KingOfSurvival: but if you need someone to talk to, too, then this might work out for both of us

JusticeIsAWoman: looks like it

She happened to glance at the time at the top of her screen and gave a guilty start

JusticeIsAWoman: but maybe later. Kind of need to get back to work

KingOfSurvival: oh, right. My bad

JusticeIsAWoman: are you unemployed or something?

KingOfSurvival: or something

JusticeIsAWoman: hm

KingOfSurvival: don’t you need to get going?

A short laugh escaped her at that, which surprised her. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed. Probably with Sara on the roof…

What was she doing? Laurel shook her head.

JusticeIsAWoman: fine, you get off easy for now

She set her phone aside face down and resisted the urge to check when it chirped again with her new anonymous friend’s reply. She’d save it for after work. That was the responsible thing to do.

Was it wrong to feel like she had something to look forward to now?

[bffhreprise]

Entry 348

 Today’s job was for a man with a name I was enjoying through a large number of scenarios in my head.  Mr. Common wasn’t at all a common person, being wealthy and not quite human, though I wasn’t precisely sure what the other part was, though I was leaning toward some type of fey we didn’t have in the forest at home.

 He had asked me here today to install a new display for his large coin collection, and I was currently making a show of struggling a little to carefully remove one of the large cases from the hand truck I used to haul it inside.  Unbeknownst to him, I had simply ran the equipment here along with the truck after making sure there were no witnesses around.  The… strange… way I had of knowing things was getting stronger lately, allowing me to view distant areas with ease if I wasn’t careful.  Something about Best Friend For Hire was changing me, a scary thought, but… I was more okay with the change than I had been about anything involving my other half today, though I was still keeping the ability in check with an effort of will at the moment.

 If I grew too distracted spying on the ballroom at home, instead of just listening in on the conversations, I’d have a small chance that I’d make some small error in my work, which was completely unacceptable.  My scenarios always depicted James as not really minding small mistakes, but how accurate could they be, being purely speculative imagining on my part?  Besides, one should always complete quests as perfectly as possible, and every job for Best Friend For Hire was a quest to me!

 “If you don’t mind, I’m going to check on some things in the other room.” stated Mr. Common, who had been awkwardly rubbing his hands for the past couple of minutes after I assured him several times that I wouldn’t need help.

 I certainly couldn’t blame the slightly short man from worrying about a much shorter girl struggling with very solid display cases, but I had some gadgetry that could be used for lifting if he actually watched me too much.  Getting things done without him actively viewing me would be a blessing, these days only partially because I didn’t like being watched.

 After waiting what seemed to be a very human pause before responding, I carefully made words, saying, “P-Please do.  This r-really won’t… t-take long.”  I knew my speaking was still off slightly.  Despite talking much more frequently than I had for most of my life, I still hadn’t mastered forming words over the small eternities it took.  Someday, I might.  I wasn’t a monster.  I had friends.  Even Deyanira was back in my life again, friendlier than ever before.

 As I worked, slightly faster than a person probably could manage, I listened to the chanting back home.  Assuming the girls were following James’ instructions, Dani’s Luxa would be dancing around an altar in Ancient Tribes of Earth while Kayla and Iris’ characters did the chanting.  By the time they finished, I already had the display cases in place, stacking and tying the old ones on my hand truck.

 Llameths’ Keep?  The conversation between the girls repeated itself a few times in my head.  A new area had opened after finishing the ritual, apparently giving them a quest to find an underground keep.  I really wanted to see this.

 Instantly, I was seeing the girls seated in the ballroom with James standing behind them, looking on curiously.  Everything was visible to me at once.  Every scent reached me as clearly as if I was nearby.  I could hear their organs at work, but I couldn’t turn their characters to allow me to see into the game world better.  Blocking out the sensations, I decided to cheat a little extra on sorting the coins into their new homes.

 By the time Mr. Common was walking into the room, I was down to the very last row of the very last case, making an exaggerated show of the care I took in moving his precious coins.  Unlike him, I was very aware that a slight twitch of my fingers could turn the coin into slag.  Needing to treat everything as delicate, I had plenty of experience in caution.

 “Daddy, any ideas?” questioned Dani hopefully.  Her and the others had been discussing the clue they saw in the cave, but they apparently weren’t sure what to do yet.

 “I am… shocked.  You had assured me that this wouldn’t take long, but…” he started, taking a moment to carefully tug at one of the cases with his other hand prepared to catch it should it move.  The case didn’t even wiggle, of course.  “It’s solid!  And this is the bulletproof glass detailed on your website?” he asked, careful not to touch the “glass”.

 “T-Technically, not glass, b-but… yes.  B-Bulletproof.” I assured him with a nod, careful not to meet his eyes.  Figuring out how to be respectful without meeting someone’s eyes had taken practice when I was little, but Mom made me practice, knowing my eyes would scare people if they caught the color in light.

 Mr. Common was grinning, staring at how the new display light illuminated each coin.  He tried the touchpad, practically dancing when the coin he selected was lifted and flipped over inside of the case.  “And if anything goes wrong…?” he started asking.

 Nodding, I said, “F-Fully… covered.”

 I knew what was coming far before he reached me, hugging me impulsively.  With a much smaller effort of will than I once needed, I remained still, listening in on the conversation at home while ignoring the sensation.

 James had teased Dani about not being there with his character, refusing to help her, but Dani knew he was just messing with her.  Mila was transmitting everything to Alma, so she could watch her daughter’s game too.  As strange as Dani’s sudden appearance as their daughter was, James and Alma were very good parents.

 Finally releasing me, Mr. Common asked “Is there anything I… well… I guess you’re hired to be here, but…”  He couldn’t seem to decide on what to say, a feeling I understood very well.  There were always so many options, and making words took concentration, for me at least.

 Shaking my head, I asked “I-Is there anything… I-I… can d-do?”

 “Everything looks to be in perfect order.  Job very well done!” he exclaimed, grinning at me, unaware of the slight bit of cabbage in his tooth.  The cabbage smell still lingered in the kitchen.

 Nodding and smiling without meeting his eyes, I said, “I-I’ll… be off.”

 He followed me to the door, once again looking like he wanted to help me with what probably seemed an extreme load to him.  The moment I was certain no one was watching, I’d grab the company truck and return home.  Just a year ago, I never would have even considered hauling a vehicle with me, but the truck served as advertisement for the company and a disguise for how everything had arrived with me.  Sure, people might wonder how they missed the truck departing, but hardly anyone was likely to get stuck on the vehicle’s sudden absence.

 Back at home, Dani had asked for Alma’s help on deciphering something in the game, but Kayla had explained to her that a unicorn was depicted, and someone used the horn in crafting.  There was also a dragon’s tooth needed, which I already had at my forge in the game.  I could help them!

 “Is Raine home?  She's the guild crafter, right?” questioned Iris.  “She can probably make what we need.”

 They wanted me there!  I quickly searched every possible point which could view the company truck.

 “Dragons are so pretty.” commented Dani in a way that made me wonder what she was remembering them from.

 Finding no possible viewer, I loaded the truck and carefully hauled it home, walking around traffic and occasionally through the air… According to Aaliyah, there was some sort of transformation occurring when I did this, but I didn’t want the details… yet.  Wasn’t ready for that quest.  After delivering the truck and unloading it, I hurried to the ballroom to find Dani’s lips barely shutting from her comment.

 “Wh-where are y-you?” I asked, hoping she’d open the map to show me.  I hadn’t been paying too much attention when they were fighting goblins or dragons earlier, though I knew roughly where they probably were based off those two types of creatures being in relatively close proximity.  Being me, I simply didn’t forget.  Ever.

 “I thought you were on a job.” commented James with an amused look.

 “I-I finished.” I told him, not meeting his eyes.  More than anyone else in the room, he was sure to know I had cheated, but I didn’t think he’d comment on it, not with the number of times I had cheated a little already without comment.

 “She's also gotten another fantastic review.  Mr. Common is quite impressed with how quickly she reorganized his coin collection and thought the new displays are remarkable.” commented Mila.

 I mentally thanked her and added another treat for her in my mental room dedicated to her awesomeness.  She had already told me forty-three times that I didn’t need to thank her so often.  I did my best not to thank her more than once a day now.

 “Excellent.” replied James, his amused look becoming a full-blown smile  “How many coins were there?”

 “Three th-thousand seventy-f-four.” I told him, knowing a pointed question when I heard one.  No human could have installed the displays and sorted the coins that quickly even if they weren’t careful.  Oops.

 “So how long did that take you to plan out?  Half a second?” he teased rather than admonishing me.

 I shook my head, resisting the urge to dance in place at not upsetting him.  James very rarely got upset at anyone, but I didn’t want to be the one who managed to make him angry.  We all owed him so very much, and even if we didn’t, he was so very kind.

 “I actually had images from the collection’s previous displays and designed the new displays based off them with the improved security features.  She installed them and moved the coins.” explained Mila, thankfully saving me from having to use so many words at once.

 “Well, I'm glad he's happy.” insisted James, still smiling as he looked at me.

 “We found a cave!” exclaimed Kayla excitedly.  “Then Dani did this dance thing while Iris and I chanted, and it opened!  There was music and everything!”

 There was a brief moment’s consideration of telling her that I heard that part, but I decided against it.  Too much effort, and there was no need to point out the oddness in listening from miles away.  I was well aware that the soundwaves shouldn’t even reach there.  Like the others, I studied, just at a slightly faster pace.

 “But now we're stuck.” complained Iris.  “We need some sort of items as keys.”

 I nodded and started studying the diagrams on their screens, using my words to get them to change their views.  There was a great deal of unnecessary information, but the basic plans for the key was obvious enough.  Being a well-known crafter with a good reputation had brought many interesting recipes to my shop from hopeful adventurers.  Like the others, this quest was happily accepted.  “I-I’ll deliver.” I informed them, glad to see that Mila was already logging into my character for me.

 “Really?  It's quite a walk.” warned James, underestimating Nekopawpaw’s speed once again.

 Shrugging, I told him “I w-want to come.”  If he thought he was the only one desperately interested in this new find, he was sorely mistaken.  My scenarios argued that he was just trying to be kind again, attempting to dissuade me purely out of kindness.

 “You'll join us!?  Really!?” exclaimed Dani, hopping out of her seat to approach mine.  As I worked, she hugged me from behind and gently petted my head.  “You're the best!” she exclaimed before remembering that James was nearby.  I felt her turn toward him as she said, “Don't worry, Daddy.  You’re the best Daddy.”

 “Thank you.” he replied with a chuckle.

 With the abundantly stocked warehouse that Ashengarde afforded me, I had no problem getting all necessary materials together in short order.

“Did you just make a new anvil?” questioned James, obviously watching my screen.

 I nodded and explained “I'll n-need to make k-key molds there.”  Though I could technically detach my shop’s anvil and bring it along, I wanted to use an anvil from the exact materials described in the diagrams.  Mine probably would have worked perfectly, being forged with the strongest magic currently available in the game—through my potions—specifically for versatile crafting, but this new one definitely would.

 Dani invited me to the group, and Kayla shared their location with me.  Covering the distance only took two potions for a speed boost.  I took longer setting up my portable workshop and creating the keys than I did running to them.

 “How did you get a unicorn horn?” asked Kayla, clearly worried for the poor creature.  “You didn't… kill it… Did you?”

 “I… t-traded for it.” I assured her.  I didn’t go on to explain the small investigation I had done into the characters before accepting the material from them.  If they had killed the unicorn themselves rather than finding it on an orc raiding party, I wouldn’t have traded for it.

 “What about the dragon tooth?” asked Iris, who was showing much more interest in the game today than she had previously.

 “K-knocked it out.” I told her.  Knocking out teeth was actually really easy in the game if you knew what to do and how to time it, but many people struggled with the procedure.  Personally, I liked to find particularly malicious creatures for teeth harvesting.  Leaving them as easier prey didn’t bother me.

 Surprisingly, the questions kept coming as I worked, enough that I considered whether or not I should try teaching them about crafting within the game.  Any of them would probably do fairly well if they kept their focus, though I really did struggle to picture Kayla or Dani showing enough focus.  Iris gave me more hope.

 “You stopped replying in the game.” commented Alma after entering the room and taking a seat on her husband’s lap.

 “Sorry.  I find this distracting.” replied James as he motioned to the screens.

 “Remember what happened last time we fell into a cave?” asked Alma in a way that suggested they had gotten into trouble.  Was she referring to how they accidentally released the demon lords, starting a global event?  James didn’t comment on the matter.

 When I finished crafting the keys, Dani and Kayla each took one and inserted them nearly simultaneously on Iris’ count.

 “It's opening!” excitedly whispered Dani, practically bouncing in her seat.

 With the doors open, we were staring into a beautiful hallway that looked to be made completely of ice.  A set of scenarios set off in my mind to design different ice structures, and I carefully stored the various plans away in the newly created “ice palace” drawer of my mind’s crafting room.

 “Master, the applicant has arrived.” announced Mila.

 James sighed dramatically, depositing his wife on his seat before kissing her.  I forced myself not to stare, though I was still watching and enjoying the subtle play between the two of them.  Inside, I was squealing with delight at their affectionate displays.  I liked the new Alma much more than the old, though I still lacked any reasonable scenario for how the change came to be within two weeks.

 “Thank you, Mila.” replied James as he strolled toward the front doors.

 I could already see the new recruit outside, looking perfectly professional and only a little nervous.  She was fairly tall, much taller than me, though she’d look short next to James.  With long, dark brown hair and sparkling brown eyes, she was perfectly pretty.  She had the confidence in her stance of someone who was doing well in life.  Without a doubt, she’d still be thrown off by this place.  Part of me considered whether or not I should watch her interview.  Part of me was adamantly against using my strangeness to spy like this, but there was that very curious part, not wanting to miss a moment.  Was watching people from afar really worse than listening in situations like this?

[angeltriestoblog]

I’ve been thinking and writing and thinking about writing

This time last year, I spent my free time cooped up in my university’s study hall. There, I would drink from smuggled cups of vending machine coffee, in the hopes of converting my lethargy into caffeine, and the caffeine into words. My dream publication at the time had opened up internship applications, and though they set no deadline, I pressured myself to finish all the requirements as fast as I could. Every impulse decision I had was always coupled with this need to execute at the soonest possible time, like my brain knew if I took a second longer, my common sense would kick in and pull the brakes. I guess my failure to think everything through reflected in my cover letter template (lazy), resume (unremarkable), sample works (in retrospect, bland and uninspiring), and the absence of an acceptance letter in my inbox.

I have lost respect for said publication since then, though not because I harbored bitterness in my heart: their failure to compensate hardworking interns as well as the steep decline in the quality of their content should be enough reason. (Looks like I dodged a bullet back there.) Though it can’t be denied that at the time, I was heartbroken. The feeling lingered with me longer than I cared to admit. Despite getting featured on a national broadsheet and accepted into my school’s student paper less than a month later, I still couldn’t bring myself to be fully confident in my skill set because of that one specific, indirect rejection.

Which is why, being where I am now and having achieved as much as I have in a span of five short months feels like the highest form of vindication. Quarantine boredom compelled me to submit an article pitch to the then newly-launched Underdog, an online platform dedicated to the digital native’s latest preoccupation. It was a piece about the boybands I loved and lost (read: the dissolution of One Direction, and every other group I adored with the same degree of intensity), one I was actually planning to post on the blog. But in a span of a few weeks, my idea was accepted, refined, revised, and turned into a full-fledged essay that landed me my first ever paycheck.  

I was still on some euphoric high, emboldened beyond belief, when I chose to take it a notch higher and apply as a staff writer for one of my all-time favorite magazines. During the summer before college, I was paralyzed by a legitimate existential crisis that left me aimless and afraid. I turned to the Internet for solace, and in my search for a voice of reason, I found Lithium Magazine, and their collection of articles which viewed life in the authentic, critical, occasionally self-deprecating way only Gen Z teens know how. I was aware being turned down by them would easily mean a one-way ticket to retirement for me; thank God my inner critic was taking a power nap or else it would have talked me out of it for sure. The day after I submitted my accomplished application form and a far more impressive portfolio of sample articles (by my standards, at least), I woke up to an acceptance letter and just knew life was not going to be the same.

The past four months I’ve spent as a contributor for Lithium have been some of my most fulfilling as a writer. I am constantly being pushed to the limits of my imagination and creativity when it comes to the content I produce. I can’t find it in me to half-ass pitches or beat around the bush in paragraphs: I owe it to the effortlessly talented people I work with, and the impressive body of work they have managed to accumulate over the years. My first pieces for the month of July were about the effectivity of online therapy in a Filipino context, and the irony of being a low-maintenance friend during a time when the need for human connection is higher than ever. This was followed by my personal essay in defense of basic girls: my favorite one so far, and probably my boss’ too, considering that it’s an Editor’s Pick for the month of August. Though I am infinitely proud of them, as they are my first forays into the international publishing world, I know I can (and thus am determined to) do better.

Since then, I’ve churned out articles on an almost-daily basis for an array of online and print zines. I scout for inspiration in the morning and once struck by lightning, I type away until roosters start to crow once again. Most days, I only took a time out for the daily two-hour movie. It seemed like I was working a part-time job instead of nurturing a hobby. But it never felt like a chore to me. I simply love what I do and I feel like the fact that it shows is the reason why sites are kind enough to publish my work. 

You can view my portfolio if you want to see everything I’ve put out so far but here are five of my most recommended, in case you’re too lazy for that!

The story of my coming-of-age based on the usernames I had on social media platforms, for Uniquely Aligned;

An expose on all-girls Catholic high schools in the Philippines and their inaction towards sexual harassment cases, for Ashamed Magazine;

A part-review of Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay, part-rant on the evident lack in Western media that accurately portrays Filipino life, for Reclamation Magazine;

A piece on why talking about mental health should never be a one-way street, for Gen Rise Media;

A love letter to one of my favorite movies of all time, and its flawed eponymous protagonist, for Mid-Heaven Magazine

On a rather tangential note, I also started expanding my network on LinkedIn, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was hoping to get out of this exercise. I simply enjoyed the process of generating new variations of the same job descriptions. One day, I was sent an email by Riya, the Executive Director of The Young Writers Initiative, a nonprofit that provides resources for aspiring authors to improve their craft and advance their career. They wanted to recruit me to be a mentor for freelancing for their upcoming summer internship program. I had just woken up then and had to rub the sleep from my eyes to read it properly. Apparently, I was recommended by a connection (hi, Srilekha!) who took my sample works as an obvious display of my credibility in the field. Given that this sounded like an exciting opportunity, I immediately agreed. Everything happened at a pretty fast pace after that, as I got swept up in the process of selecting a mentee and figuring out what I could possibly teach them. I guess I didn’t find the time to process what exactly was going on, and what it meant for me as a writer.

It didn’t take long for the impostor syndrome to hit. And quite hard, if I may add. I was due for an interview with Madison, one of my fellow TYWI mentors and I had scanned the questions she sent me. Though I clearly knew what advice I would give to aspiring freelance writers, or had a routine in mind that allowed me to balance all my existing priorities, my hands felt like they were loaded with cement. I could barely type on the document before me. I must have had a staring contest with my taunting cursor for an hour.

I mean, maybe I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t have the right to say them. After all, whatever I knew, I borrowed from someone else - perhaps an actual authority in the field. Wasn’t I just some girl who got lucky during the quarantine? While the current state of the world forced everyone into stagnancy, I coped best with the help of the written word. Had everyone else been under the same circumstances, I wouldn’t be in my current situation. Needless to say, when the actual feature came out, I spiraled. 

I wish I could claim that I only had to do x and y for the storm cloud above my head to go away. But as controversial as it sounds, I maintain that no writer fully gets rid of impostor syndrome. In fact, let me widen the scope of my statement: no creative can do it. I have never known anybody with both an inclination toward the arts and a strong sense of confidence. It’s like our limitless imagination only raises the already impossibly high standards we hold ourselves against. We never really think highly of ourselves to begin with, so when we meet a goal, achieve something we’ve only ever dreamt of, we bring ourselves down. We invalidate our hard work and dismiss it as an act of charity by the karmic forces of the universe.

Thankfully, I have an amazing support system: my immediate family members and closest friends, always ready to offer reassurance when it’s scarce (hold on, I got these intense Economics war flashbacks GOD). I seriously don’t know where I’d be without them. Actually, I do know. Probably wallowing in pools of self-deprecation. I think I would’ve ended up chickening out of new opportunities on the sole basis of my self-imposed inexperience. My loved ones were the quickest to remind me that I was only a beginner in freelancing but I had been writing since I learned how to grip a pen in my hand. I have prepared for this all my life and I was finally reaping the fruits of my labor. Who was I to shy away from the blessings that were so generously being lavished upon me?

In fact, just a few hours ago, I bagged two very exciting contributor roles for organizations that I admire very deeply. I have several pitches in the pipeline as of now, which I absolutely cannot wait to bring to life and share with you guys. As far-fetched as this sounds, this is only the beginning for me. I am so grateful to everyone who has believed in me, read my work (or even a mere paragraph of it because I know how underappreciated the written word can be these days), and left encouraging comments. 

WIshing you nothing but love and light always, always, always,

Angel

[jessiyl]

The Smurg- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Africa was amazing. It was large and open, with so many different landscapes to see. The jungles and the savannah were her favorites. The people were colorful and kind, with cultures that were so different from everything she was used to. Magic was used in ways she never considered before. She could really see what the appeal of a world travel would be to a young powerful wizard. In a different world, perhaps it would have been something she would have done herself.

When they finally approached the village on foot after nearly a month of travel, Draco and Hermione were immensely excited albeit exhausted. They walked in the midst of their village and were immediately surrounded by warrior wizards. It was one of the possible scenarios they anticipated while on their journey. After she recounted Voldemort’s experience, they had leaned towards the village casting first and asking questions later. Both were happily surprised they weren’t killed on sight. Something that was also on their possibility of outcome list.

Hermione and Draco had agreed that their best chance of seeing The Smurg was by not occluding or acting suspicious or secretive in any way. With that in mind, they walked into the village, minds open and their wands safely tucked in their packs. Some would call that vulnerable or foolish, but Hermione needed to see the Smurg. If she couldn’t, was there really any point in living?

Immediately, they were brought to a crude hut that could only boast the barest of walls and a thatched roof. It was not her idea of comfort, but she guessed that was the point. At least they anticipated on letting the two of them leave alive. If staying in a bare hut for a while was the price to pay to be there and try to convince the villagers that they were worthy enough to speak with the Smurg, then who was she to disparage their accommodations?

Hermione sat on the edge of a straw pallet and pulled her small beaded bag onto her lap. Draco sat heavily next to her, watching as she drew out the long thin box that they had brought as a gift to bribe their way into the Smurg’s presence.

“When do you think would be a good time to give them the gift?” Hermione mused out loud. She couldn’t have asked a better person for gift giving advice as Draco had an extensive etiquette upbringing enforced by his mother, the socialite and once debutante.

"Now, before they kill us. A gift, it may be, but don't forget this is a bribe." He smirked, looking so much like the old Draco Malfoy that Hermione was thrown back to their third year to the moment where her fist landed on his smarmy face and couldn't help but smirk in return as she remembered the way he collapsed like a card house after being disturbed by a gust of wind. Hermione focused once more on what was in front of her and rolled her eyes, knowing that though he learned etiquette from his mother, his bribery experience was completely his father’s doing.

“I guess now is as good a time as any,” She muttered and stood, turning to look at Draco as he laid out on the straw cot and closed his eyes. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I think you can handle giving a gift all on your own,”

“They might kill me on sight just because of what it is.”

“You are right,” He said, sitting up and concern wrinkling his brow, “don’t forget to ward the door on your way out,” he laid back down, that infuriating smirk growing the longer she fumed silently, hovering over his seemingly relaxed body. He was damn lucky that she was working on learning restraint in hexing her allies. Namely him.  

Hermione pivoted on the balls of her feet and walked out of the hut. She had taken a mere three steps before she was immediately surrounded again.

“We have brought a gift for the Smurg,” She said, holding up the small wooden box. When no one moved, she removed the lid and showed them the innocent length of wood that sat inside on a bed of velvet. A sudden intake of breath from the elders was her only indication that they recognized the unbroken and unaligned Elder Wand.

A ripple of unease swept through the villagers as the elders moved as if one to box her in against the small hut.

“How do you know about the Smurg?” a man of dark skin and shockingly white kinky hair muttered dangerously, never taking his eyes off of the deadly wand that she offered them.

“My best friend defeated Tom Riddle and our losses were incredibly high. It was he who won the allegiance of the wand and died of his injuries shortly after, leaving the wand without a master.

After the battle, there were few wizards living and I know given the chance, I could make things better for everyone. I began my research into time travel. After days of scouring through books, I was desperate and ended up going through Tom Riddle’s personal items. He kept a journal of his travels as a young man and I read about his stop here. I was hoping the Smurg could help us.”

“She isn’t a fortune teller to fix your life. Her services are for the betterment of all.”

“Would you ask her if she would see us? Please?” Hermione ignored his previous comment and remained dogged

“I can promise no more than that. If she does not wish to meet you, you both will leave.”

“Alright.” Hermione agreed and went back into the hut where Draco was already spread out on his straw cot snoring. She snorted. He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on the hunt for Horcruxes.

She laid down to wait, hoping that the Smurg would agree to meet them. Hermione really didn’t know what she would do if they were turned away. And before she knew it, her lids weighed heavily and it was longer times between each time she blinked them open.

She was awoken by rough hands that shook her vigorously. She gasped as she reflexively reached for her wand and only hit a solid wall of muscle.

“She summons you.” A deep voice murmured.

They walked as a group towards the center hut. Hermione could feel the shimmer of spells gliding over her skin as she passed through the doorway and there the warriors stayed standing guard just inside the wards. They silently pushed her through the doorway and shut the door behind her.

Hermione was left alone in the dead of night, in a dark and warded hut, in the center of the village with no way to defend herself. Fear coiled in her stomach as she wondered if Voldemort’s journals were wrong. Perhaps the parasite needed new hosts to suck the life out of. Maybe it just told him something to make him go away. But the one thought that was niggling at the back of her mind was the date that the Smurg had given him as the date of his death was accurate.

“Come closer.” A high girlish voice beckoned.

“I don’t know the way. It’s too dark.” Hermione said.

A small ball of light appeared in the palm of the hand of a very young child. She was only five or six years old. Her long white hair hung loosely to her shoulder blades as her milky white eyes focused on Hermione’s approaching form.

Hermione was horrified, and her hand covered her mouth.

"Do not mourn for me. I may not be a normal child, but I have the lives of a thousand Smurgs in my head. I have never just been a child. I have always been the chosen. I am blessed.” The child said, voice devoid of emotion.

"I lost my childlike innocence early and I will always mourn the loss of the same in any other." Hermione stood in front of the girl who was seated on a throne made of a living tree that had been twisted as it grew into the shape of a grand and imposing living throne.

“I was told that you knew of me from a journal of Tom Riddle’s.”

“Yes.”

“He was a blight on the world but even blights are needed to strengthen future crops and the will of man. I know why you are here. I don’t think it would do any good to change this.”

“If I had the chance, I could change things for the better.”

“If you have the chance you may lose your hard-won victory.”

“This was no victory.”

“For the whole world, it was.”

“Not for my world.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t, but it could have been a lot worse. It almost was.”

“What does that mean?”

“If your blond companion had embraced his familial role, Voldemort would have triumphed.”

“Good thing he didn’t then.”

“The world is very fortunate.”

“Tom’s journal said that everyone leaves either with a curse or a blessing. What will I leave with?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“If I send you back, can you put all of your prejudice aside?”

Hermione was indignant. She was not the prejudiced one, but after a second of reflection, she thought about it. If she went back in time, those horrible things wouldn't have happened yet. Could she set all of that aside and treat her enemies as if she was meeting them for the first time? Could she give them all a second chance?

“I would try very hard.” Hermione finally said.

The Smurg smiled in approval.

“If you had said yes, you would have been unworthy because of your lie. If you would have said no, you would have been unworthy because of your inability to do the right thing. You are worthy of my blessing.”

The Smurg smiled and reached out a fist. Hermione held her hand flat, palm up as the little girl dropped three seeds into Hermione’s hand.

“Plant them in a magical garden and watch it grow. When the seedling glows blue, you must give it a blood sacrifice. If it accepts your offering, it will bear a single piece of fruit in three days. This first fruit will have the magic in it that you seek. The barren tree left behind will eventually produce a Smurg of its own. Once the tree has its blood sacrifice, it will not be able to be undone. Do you accept the price of your blessing?”

“The Smurg will select a host among the available women?”

"The Smurg will choose its host from the family that cares for the garden it resides in. A Smurg will always choose a child."

“What would happen if I don’t offer the tree a blood sacrifice?”

“It would become an ever-bearing pomegranate tree that would sprout fruit in even the harshest winters.”

“But it would never become a Smurg.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for your blessing. I hope you achieve great longevity.”

The little girl nodded her head with a smile and dropped the ball of light, a clear dismissal from the hut. Hermione turned and walked out blindly, heavily laden with moral conundrums. Would going back in time be a good enough reason to condemn a line of girls into hosting a powerful parasite? Hermione couldn't help thinking that it wasn't very much like a blessing at all.

Hermione gently wrapped the seeds in a silk scarf that she brought along and put it in her beaded bag. The warriors stood like sentinels around the hut only watching Hermione as she slowly made her way back to the hut that they village had given her and Draco. Once there, she crawled back onto the straw and fell asleep, hoping that her unconscious mind would give her an answer. On one hand, she could go back in time, on the other hand, she would be giving over the lives of countless girls to do it. If she went through with it, would she be any better than Voldemort?

When Hermione woke up the next morning, Draco was gone. She poked her head out of the hut and was greeted with bowls and dishes of various food, busy women and men going about their day, and children running about, freely playing together as good friends do.

Hermione joined the gathering with a smile and watched with interest, the employment of many of the people, noticing that they bowed their head and called her ‘Muumba’ as she passed. She smiled not knowing what it meant but taking social cues, she assumed it was something positive. She shrugged and moved on, hoping she would see Draco soon.

A little girl, the same age as the Smurg ran up to her and tugged on Hermione’s shirt.

“They are waiting for you, Muumba.”

“Who is?”

“Your companion and the Elders. Come.”

“What does Muumba mean?” Hermione asked curiously.

“The one in the beginning, the creator.”

Hermione sputtered in shock.

“Why are they calling me the creator?”

“You will create the new Smurg and ours will no longer be alone. They will be connected.”

“In what way?”

“The seeds are of the tree and the trees are special. Once, long ago, there were whole forests of trees and they were all connected. Not anymore. Ours is the last.” She said sadly.

“Then are all Smurg’s connected?”

“Yes. The more there are, the stronger they are, the more they can do for the world.”

“But one person has to give up her whole life for it. Why are the hosts always girls?”

“The chosen are gifted extremely long lives; the only sacrifice is their innocence. They grow knowing the best and worst of the world. Girls are the bearers of life, so are the Smurg’s.”

“Their only sacrifice…” Hermione spat. “Innocence should not be an acceptable sacrifice.”

“She gains much and only one of us is chosen. The rest of us are blessed to protect her. She lives a satisfying life.”

“But is she happy?”

“What is happiness? Happiness is not the same for everyone and is not the same thing throughout one's life. ”

“How did you become so wise in your young life?”

“We are taught the lessons of the tree. The Smurg sings the songs of a time where they were many. We learn from her.”

They reached the small enclosure that the little girl gestured to, bidding Hermione to enter.

“Aren’t you coming too?” Hermione asked the little girl.

“Only the blessed may enter here.”

“And you are not blessed?”

“Not everyone can be worthy.”

“But you protect her.”

“We are still human, and we have our own fears and vices. Very few are actually worthy. We celebrate because two have come to us. The Muumba and the Mlinzi.”

“What is the Mlinzi?”

“He is the protector.”

“The protector of the Smurg? Will he be forced to stay?”

“He will sire daughters who will host the new Smurg. His tribe will protect her. He will protect the tree. The Smurg has already seen it.”

“I don’t believe in prophecy.”

“Neither do we.”

“What does that even mean?” Hermione asked, frustrated.

The little girl walked away with an enigmatic little smile. Hermione frowned as she watched the dark-skinned child rejoin her playmates before turning around and walking into the hut. Draco was sitting in a circle with five other people. Their ages varied from ancient to child. Draco smirked, enjoying Hermione’s confusion. He patted the ground next to him in the same manner that she had that day in his library, his eyes danced with humor.

“Come in Granger, we were just about to begin.”

“Begin what?”

“Breakfast.”

“Right.”

The moment she sat down, two women joined the group carrying bowls and flasks filled with food and drink.

Their day went by fast, the whole village was welcoming and celebratory. It wasn’t often that they entertained guests and even less when those guests were blessed. It was a lovely day spent before they left in the morning.

Their trip back to Malfoy Manor was much quicker and easier. Since they had already visited several waypoints, they were able to apparate back to Wiltshire in four short bursts. Tanzania to Algeria, Algeria to Spain, Spain to France, and France to Wiltshire.

**HG**

Hermione and Draco were in the small sitting room off of the conservatory, each laying on a couch on opposite sides of each other.

“What did she tell you?” Hermione asked.

“She asked me if I had to do it all over again would I make the same decision to flee the Manor.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I wasn’t sure. I don't think my father would have been forced to kill me. The Dark Lord was fond of forcing his followers into doing things they didn't want to do to test their loyalty. Often they had to go through with whatever he came up with but sometimes, especially in the case involving pureblooded children, they did not. Although, my mother would have been killed and I couldn't have survived losing her that way."

"The Smurg likes indecisive people." She snorted.

“Mmm.” He agreed.

"She gave me seeds but if I use them to go back in time, it will create a new Smurg. I don't think I can condemn innocent children to that fate."

“Did she tell you why she looks the way she does and why she is blind?”

“It’s part of being the host for the Smurg, right?”

“No. She was born blind and the hair was an abnormality. She is actually the great niece of the previous Smurg. Did you know that the last Smurg wasn't born blind?  They claimed she was one of the happiest people they had ever met."

“What are you trying to tell me?”

"I'm trying to show you that you are as blind about the Smurg as you are about House-elves. You are pushing your thoughts and feelings onto them without considering what makes them happy. Your happiness is not the same as theirs."

Hermione stared at him in shock. That was basically what the little girl in the village had told her.

“So, you would be okay with having your daughter be the host of a new Smurg.”

“Sure, it’s a great honor.”

“Did she give you seeds?”

"No, she told me who my future wife would be and that she would give me five children, three of them, girls."

“What’s her name?”

“Ginevra Weasley.”

Hermione drew in a great breath and held it, desperately trying to hold back a sob. With an angry release, she narrowed her gaze.

“Ginny would never in a million years chose you over Harry,”

“If you go back, things will change, she will marry me. That is what the Smurg said.”

“If I go, Ginny lives to marry you?”

“Yes. I don’t know how or why but that is what was promised.”

“How did you take that, being told you would marry a Weasley?” Hermione snickered.

“Relieved and mildly intrigued.”

They chuckled for a moment. Draco rolled onto his side, a hand under his head as a pillow.

“If you stay, this is what the rest of our life will look like. You’re decent Granger but I would only marry you out of duress. We would be like siblings and would fight all the time. We would waste our lives searching for a way to go back in time without the severe consequences of the time turners. I don't think that is possible. So, tell me, is your life so great here with me that you can't let me go?"

“This is not about you, Malfoy. This is about your children and how they deserve a proper childhood.”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“But we cannot forget the man for the crowd.”

“I see we are at an impasse.” He said flopping on his back.

“I don’t even know if I can control the year. What if I end up in the founders’ era?”

“I think it will take you where you can do the most good.”

“You have a lot of faith in this. Why?”

“Do you know what the tree portion of the Smurg is called?”

She shook her head.

“It is an Ent. They used to be all over the world. My father used to tell me stories about the Ents when I was a kid. I don’t know how accurate they are, but I used to love them.”

“Don’t Ent’s walk?”

“The Smurg walks not the Ent. Ent’s are rooted to the ground. They are trees for goodness sake. Merlin, Granger!" He huffed as if he had to explain something obvious that a two-year-old would know. She stayed quiet, lips thinning in silent disapproval thinking of all the Tolkienesque dreams that were now shattered. "What I am trying to say is that this doesn't seem so out of the ordinary for me. I grew up in a world of magic. It’s all I’ve ever known, and magic is fluid and unpredictable. Not everything can be explained or reasoned out. Some things just are. Do you reason out the cause and effects of jumping into a lake? Your body oils could kill the ecosystem, but you go swimming anyway.”

“I can either choose to jump or to stand still.”

“Exactly.”

“What would you do?”

“Me? I would jump.”

**HGHG**

Hermione stood on a slight rise in the west gardens of Malfoy Manor. A unicorn watched from the field on the other side of the low hedge, a dazzling white among the sea of green. Hermione looked down at the silk cloth she clutched in her hand. It was time to make a decision. Was she going to sacrifice the lives of generations of Malfoy girls to come and go into the past, or was she going to plant a tree that will bear fruit year-round and stay to have Draco’s children?

She unfolded the material and stared at the seeds. Guilt twisted in her stomach, her decision was made days ago when she talked to Malfoy about it in the conservatory. The only problem was that she just wasn’t prepared to knowingly sacrifice someone else so that she could go back in time. She would gladly lay down her own life for her friends but for her to offer up another’s life? It was a hard pill to swallow.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione gently poked the seeds into the hole that Draco had dug for her and covered it before sitting on the ground to wait. Malfoy brought her a tray of sandwiches and a thermos of tea after the first hour.

“Thanks.” She murmured, digging into the first sandwich.

They sat silently chewing and watching in bemusement as the seeds sprouted at an accelerated pace. The tiny seedling grew fast. It wasn’t long before a sapling stood where before it was merely a covered hole.

It pulsed with a strong blue iridescence that shone from the very core of the tree. Hermione took a deep breath, this was it. She was going to do it.

“Diffindo," Hermione muttered, slicing her hand open before cupping the welling blood. The pulse seemed to feel her blood and small wispy tendrils reached out from its trunk. The delicate lines snaked around her wrist and writhed just above her exposed wound. It was as if it were waiting for her consent. Hermione rubbed the soft bark, coating it with her blood.

"I'm sorry, so sorry." She muttered. Not to the tree, to it, she was bestowing life, but to the hosts that haven't even been born yet.

Once the blue light faded she pulled her hand back and let the remaining drops of blood drip from her fingertips, splashing onto the grass.  

Malfoy grabbed her hand, healed and cleaned it, before letting it drop back to her side.

“All we have to do now is wait.” He said. She nodded. She had three days to get her shit together.

**HGHG**

The first thing that Malfoy insisted on was visiting Gringotts, but Hermione was understandably hesitant. She had stolen something from one of the vaults that they protected. She was expecting to be murdered the moment she crossed the threshold. He waved away her concerns with a ringing laugh.

"Look, Granger, I promise that they won't attack you."

In the end, he won, and Hermione was now standing in a back office of one of the head goblins, with Malfoy lounging arrogantly in one of the seats by the desk.

“We don’t know what time she will arrive in, but she needs to have access to funds.”

"Almost all of her assets were seized as a fine for her theft, as was quite a bit of the Potter wealth. Upon the death of Harry James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger acquired the remaining Potter and Black fortunes. The remaining totaling five million galleons, various jewels, and artifacts that are detailed in full on this list." The Goblin handed over a thick ream of paper.

Malfoy plucked it out of her hand and began studying her assets.

“What I am asking is, is it possible to make this available to her at any time? In any time?"

“Not these treasures in particular but we have ancient vaults with no living relatives to claim them. We would choose a familial vault that is worth the same as her current vault. We would only need to set the inclusion wards. Once that is done, it won’t matter when she comes, just that she does first thing. The Goblins of the time, will give you no trouble. We have policies in place."

"And the fee?"

"A Goblin-made artifact that would be signed over to me specifically." A greedy glint entered his eye.

“Only if everything is changed over first.”

“Alright.”

“I also wish to bequeath the contents of vault thirty-four to Miss Hermione Jean Granger.”

Surprise colored the faces of the other two.

“It is my wish to see Granger well taken care of in her endeavor.” Malfoy finished.

“Very well.”

With little more discussion, the paperwork was signed, and Hermione was the proud owner of Vault Seven. The vault of the lost house of Slytherin.

They rode the deathtrap that the goblins affectionately called the cart to the lowest and oldest section of Gringotts. The minecart flipped and rolled and spun, going fast and slow at different intervals making Hermione quite ill. By the time they reached vault seven, Hermione was seriously considering kissing the ground.

Her eyes went wide as she looked at the large red chimera guarding the entrance. The goblin rang a tiny high-pitched bell that made the chimera cringe away from the trio.

Using his gnarled finger, the goblin turned over the vault to Hermione, her blood and magical signature now marking it as hers. The door melted away as she stood staring at a great amassment of treasure.

"Everything has been cataloged and put on a new list that I will send to you." The goblin said looking at Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded before turning to look into the newly opened vault.

He looked just as entranced as Hermione did as they studied rare tomes, wands, jewels the size of eggs, mounds and mounds of galleons, and other oddities.

"You are a very wealthy witch," Draco mumbled, running his fingers over the neglected leather spines of the books.

Hermione scooped up some of the galleons and retreated. She had to keep reminding herself that she was able to access this at any time.

Once they were back up to the main lobby, the Goblin stopped them and pulled Hermione close enough so that the other goblins wouldn’t be able to hear what he said.

“You adopted the name Slytherin to get that vault. Do not forget that. It is a very powerful name with many advantages and consequences. Good luck Miss Slytherin and don’t break into any more vaults.”

Hermione stood in shock. It was a perverse kind of irony. Malfoy shook his head muttering unintelligibly under his breath.

“Well, you won’t have to convince anyone of your blood status.” He whispered to her as they stepped out onto the deserted street. Diagon Ally was a caricature of what it used to be. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stood abandoned, the bright purple paint starting to peel on the north face of the building.

Hermione spent the next day and a half packing, unpacking, and repacking everything she planned on taking with her. She exchanged the small beaded bag for a newer yet identical one that Malfoy found among his mother’s possessions. She perfected the undetectable extension charm and with Malfoy’s help, she turned the whole thing into organized chaos. By the time the small pomegranate from the tree was ready to be eaten, Hermione was overprepared.

[a879a4-blog]

1, 14, and 29! :D

42 character development questions | accepting

ooohh boy i had to put this under a read more because it got ridiculously long, i even had to shorten it ( if only i could write this much for threads and drabbles sigh )…….. Here We Go

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

When it comes to body language, Kovir is… usually pretty expressive, as you might have already guessed. They are known to walk with a slow, provocative strutting gait; sometimes even adding a bit of hips swaying here and there — you could basically call it a model walk… But that is to say, assuming they can get away with it; they are able to tell when something is going to be way too inappropriate / unprofessional to do in a determinate situation, and they wouldn’t dare to behave like this in front of, say, motherfucking Zarkon ( they’d likely tone it down a bit even when around someone like Sendak, I suppose; better safe than sorry ), but yeah… pompous would be an accurate word to describe them. Kovir is essentially a peacock ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Strutting aside, they also tend to gesticulate a lot and dramatically. ( i.e: opening their arms wide when making a speech in front of their soldiers, putting their hand(s) to their chest, not to mention all the poses they’d make with their weapon… ) When it comes to the amount of energy they put in their movements, that kind of depends on the mood: generally speaking they tend to move somewhat slowly, some might even say languidly, as if trying to conserve their energy for the right time; but Kovir is actually quite easy to excite depending on the circumstances ( hint: their axe. give them a reason to use their axe and fuel their bloodlust ) or the people they are around with, and in that case… oh boy. It would be like watching a bunny doing the blinkies, ESPECIALLY if under the effect of their medication, which is… most of the time anyway…

This might not be surprising, but I guess it’s worth mentioning that when Kovir is genuinely angry — and I don’t mean it in the “Oh I’m so outraged now!!! >:(” way, you wouldn’t see any of these traits because their demeanor would change drastically: it’d be an uncommon sight, but if they do get to that point you can bet they’d throw whatever elegance and drama out of the window, and even if they didn’t express their rage verbally their body language, scowl and grip on their fuming axe shaking would be more than enough to get the message across. Being in the same room with a livid Kovir would be the kind of atmosphere that’d make most subordinates that know better go completely silent.

14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed? 

As a Fleet Commander who has been part of the military since they could just barely be considered an adult, they do feel a certain loyalty towards the Empire… but it’s something more related to fear and resignation than like, genuine devotion. Had they complete freedom to do anything they wanted with their life, they would have likely pursued a dance career — that was one of their dreams when they were a teen — not join the army. Kovir has long since accepted their life as a soldier ( “ The Empire is absolute; how could you ever hope to make it out alive if you rebel against it? ” ), and in some way they are thankful that at least it has given them a purpose, a role in society. They know what their place is, even if it means they could die at any moment because of it.

…Now, things have gotten somewhat more complicated with the introduction of Commander Vetara. Before she stepped in, Kovir’s commitment was very simple: serve the Empire as best as you can and bear with it because that’s simply the kind of life that was given to you, something something Victory or Death™, make Lord Zarkon happy. But Vetara, in a few words, gave them the support and validation that they so desperately needed, and at the time the concept of showing genuine compassion to your low-ranked subordinates was entirely new to Kovir.

With the development of their relationship, Kovir’s loyalty for their superior became much, much greater than whatever allegiance they felt for the Empire ( which, again, was built on fear: it was either to be a follower or die ). All the effort they put in their work was and is ultimately because of her, not anybody else. She might have been missing for a long time by now, but she’s still a huge influence in Kovir’s life, to the point that they have selected bits and pieces of her character and philosophy, assimilated them and essentially turned them into part of their own identity. Granted, their research has gotten a bit more passive over the years due to their duties obviously not allowing them to dedicate their full time looking for her whereabouts, but they would spend their entire life looking for the truth — as long as they don’t die before then.

Over the course of their life, something Kovir has learned is that the weak are simply meant to be trampled over by the strong; stepping stones to be used to progress, nothing more, nothing less. The end justifies the means etc. etc. Kovir’s morality is pretty corrupted — there aren’t many things they wouldn’t do to fulfill an objective. But even then, they generally don’t feel any particular hate or animosity for whoever they deem as weak… annoyance at most, maybe, but mostly just disinterest. Which is why Kovir tends to be willing to engage in “friendly” conversations even with those who are supposed to be the enemies if they don’t have a reason to resort to violence right away, and has even spared innocent bystanders occasionally. The suffering of others, first of all, is a necessity for the sake of the “greater good”, although this doesn’t negate the fact that they do take pleasure in playing with their victims before killing them off sometimes; it’s just nothing personal ( usually ), as they would say.

Despite how messed up their morality is, there is one thing that they are definitely never going to do on their own volition, and that is to use lethal force on children. They’ll avoid harming kids as much as possible if they can help it, and they also don’t enjoy hurting pregnant people or new parents for personal reasons. The only case in which they would actually go through with something like killing a child would be if they got forced by a higher-up, and even then they would hesitate a lot in doing so… not to mention it would make them feel absolutely miserable afterwards.

tl;dr: kovir loves vetara and they might as well die after finding her, their philosophy is no hard feelings but if the weak are not to be exploited then what else do they exist for, get over it, killing children is BAD tho u piece of shit… also vetara is love, vetara is life 

( i was gonna elaborate the ‘how do they express all this shit’ part but i don’t wanna make this any longer omg… long story short: kovir’s axe alone essentially symbolizes their loyalty, their commitment, their passion and their calling all in one, pretty much )

29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative?

The main activities Kovir carries out throughout the day involve training / working out, reading / writing reports, and anything else pertaining work really ( though they genuinely enjoy exercising as a hobby )… but responsibilities aside, socializing with others. There’s nothing new about this: Kovir is a social butterfly and not at all shy about interacting with complete strangers, but unfortunately also happens to have the bad habit of getting a bit too overfamiliar, resulting in them invading others’ personal space without giving a shit ( they have their limits thankfully… the most aggravating thing they’d do to an ally would probably be to pick them up without their consent ) — but that’s another story lmao

Basically, drinking, partying, dancing… these are all things you might get to see them do outside of their job. They also really enjoy taking care of their appearance and looking good at all times — if their flaunting didn’t make it any more obvious — to the point of getting somewhat fussy ( they hate getting dirty and messy ). Sex is, admittedly, another important aspect in Kovir’s life and has been for a long time, even before creating the persona they are making use of today. Another hobby of theirs that doesn’t involve the company of people is taking care of flowers and collecting gemstones and other pretty objects ( bonus points if they also shine and sparkle ), something you would definitely see if you ever had the chance to walk into their personal quarters.

Kovir’s extremely social behavior is essentially a façade and a form of escapism to disguise and distract themselves from all their negative feelings, as well as a means of giving other people a reason to like them; Kovir wants to be noticed and validated, they want to be praised and trusted, they want to be relied on and they want people to depend on them, both for their exploitatory purposes and their own personal pleasure. Recreational substances like alcohol are other unhealthy coping methods of theirs that unfortunately do little more than provide temporary relief, but hey, what is Kovir without all their self-destructive mechanisms.  Nothigng .   absolutley nothi

thought machine broke

[clairekatswritingcorner]

By Your Side

ANS Self Insert One Shot

Word Count: 1,933

Summary: Zinnia is resigned to the medical wing after getting injured on the job. During her stay she receives an unexpected visitor.

*Author’s Note*: This is another idea I've been thinking about for a few days, to be honest I love it. I already ship these two so hard (I mean, Zinnia was kind of made for him wink wink) but I’m worried I keep portraying Izana how I see him instead of how he really is. I know he’s more of a subdued personality but when I hear that I just think “simmer/slow burn” kind of emotion and then I just make him really straightforward and intense. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sorry if this interpretation is too OOC but it's how I interpret him and I’m sticking to it, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

(Read on Ao3)

“Ugh, how much longer…?”

Zinnia flopped her arm over her face, heaving a sigh. The medical wing was hushed, it’s silence only disturbed by the whisper of the wind against the windows or the movement of a guard passing outside. Even with her face covered she swore she could feel the moonlight on her skin; perhaps her restlessness was just that overwhelming. It hadn’t even been a day since she’d been bedridden by the injury she received on her last outing. The image of that rogue’s arrow barreling towards the prince had burned into her brain; it made her blood boil, and she clenched her fists as the memory resurfaced in her mind. She pounded the mattress, gritting her teeth as tears started to well up. She was stronger than this, she should have been able to face that attack with ease, and yet…

She sat up, instantly regretting such a decision as a stabbing pain shot through her body. She clutched her side, groaning, afraid to look and see just how bloody the bandage had become. It couldn’t be too bad considering whose care she had been entrusted to. She also knew it wasn’t becoming of a soldier to be so queasy, and she had faced worse situations before. But something about her own injuries, her own pain, made it hard for her to detach herself from the severity of the situation. On the contrary, it seemed to make her more panicked. Maybe that’s what self preservation really meant.

She narrowed her eyes at the door, taking a deep breath before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Now it was the pain of her injury that brought tears to her eyes. She swiftly brushed them away, scooting towards the edge until her feet met the floor. Part of her knew this wasn’t wise, but she couldn’t stand lying here in the dark, suffocated by the wordless hum of the night and her own chaotic thoughts.

“I believe you’re violating doctor’s orders, Miss.”

His voice made her breath hitch, and as she tensed her muscles in surprise another bolt of pain struck her. She whined, trying to hide the noise in her hand, but her movement was restricted as another hand slipped into her own. His icy eyes mellowed her thoughts and even soothed the pain a bit, although she wasn’t sure if that was just a result of the relief she felt in seeing him. How pathetic, finding such solace in this person. He wasn't allowed to be there for her the way she knew she had to be for him…yet here he was. Her heart fluttered at the thought.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I startled you, please, lie back down.”

She cast her eyes to the bed, a blush of defiance and insecurity blooming across her cheeks. His hand hadn’t yet released hers, and she was at a loss for what to do. She knew the proper thing was to pull away, but such a rare touch was so precious to her. She didn’t want this moment to end, although she knew even that thought was misguided and selfish. His fingers tightened as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation.

“Zinnia, please.”

“I’m so…it’s stifling,” she replied, squeezing her eyelids tighter. “In here. Alone. I can hear everything and nothing all at once, because there’s nothing to listen to, so I notice every little thing!”

He squeezed her hand.  

“I don’t want to rest. There are things I need to do--” she protested.

“I believe I suspended all of your duties until you’ve adequately healed.”

“But you’re--”

Zinnia bit her lip. Izana narrowed his eyes. He caressed her cheek with his other hand, his fingers lightly brushing her hair aside. She turned to face him, cheeks still burning and eyes still wet. Izana was always so composed, so straightforward. His earnestness and sincerity were part of what drew her to him. She knew she was serving someone who lived his life with the utmost determination and conviction. He was serious and firm, but understanding. Despite his hard exterior, he was always on the lookout for the important hidden details in situations and people, the things most others overlooked. He had a soft side, a side that glistened in his eyes now as his hand cradled her cheek. It was a side of him that she adored, a side she knew she should pretend he didn't present to her. It would have made everything so much easier.

“You know I can’t disobey you.”

He chuckled. “Since when is that a rule you’ve stood by when it counted most? Or rather, when it comes to your own best interest?”

He gestured to her side. “Like right now.”

She dropped her gaze. “You’re the most important thing to me. Regardless of my physical state, if I’m able to protect you, that’s enough.”

Izana’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing pink. He cleared his throat, blinking a few times to subdue his expression. “You’re no good to me half healed, and you know it. Right now, you’re even worse than that. You can barely move without wincing.”

His eyes hardened. “Don’t try to deny it or feed me feeble excuses.”

The tears in her eyes swelled as Zinnia absorbed the Prince’s words. She chewed her lip harder, her hand unconsciously tightening where he still held it.

“You seem to misunderstand something vital, Zinnia, so I’m going to reiterate it for you,” Izana’s tone was serious, but not harsh. It communicated to Zinnia that she should heed his words while also taking comfort in them. “I want you by my side. Your presence is a relief, not a weight. When you’re missing, I feel like I’m missing a part of myself. And it’s not just missing a bodyguard, but a person that is precious and important to me in ways I still haven’t found the words to describe.”

Zinnia lifted her face, her tears fading as the depth of Izana’s words reached her.

“You need to heal, and take the time to do so properly. You need to understand why your wellbeing is so important. Yesterday, when that arrow struck you…I can’t accurately communicate how many thoughts and feelings engulfed me in that moment. Rage was probably the most prominent, easily combatted by panic and worry. Worry for you.”

Her eyes now firmly locked with his, Izana’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued, “It isn’t just about not having you with me. It’s about knowing that you’re suffering while you stand there, hiding your pain from me.”

His words seared into Zinnia’s head and heart. This closeness, this connection through shared sentiment, contact, and confession…it filled her to the brim with a heat she couldn’t quite describe.

“You need not hide anything from me, Zinnia,” he spoke, his eyes shining with a fire whose color she thought matched the sensation she felt. “Likewise, I will endeavor to be as open with you as circumstances permit. I suppose right now would be a fair example.”

“But being away from you…I don't think you realize just how painful that can be,” Zinnia replied, her free hand clutching the bed sheet. “Even if it hurts to stand, being able to stand by you is what eases that pain. I’m so used to being by your side, even now…I feel a little anxious when we’re forced to part.”

Izana leaned forward, lightly pressing his forehead to Zinnia’s. The space between their faces burned with the heat of their mutual blush. But neither of them wanted to break from this comforting connection. Together, alone, their only audience was the bright and distance moon. In this light, Zinnia could have sworn Izana was a prince from the moon; his pale face and hair were washed even lighter by the moonbeams shining on them. Zinnia wanted to return his favor, to stroke his face, or even dare to kiss his cheek. She knew there was no way her heart would hold out if she went through with such a display, quickly stuffing such childish and unsightly thoughts away. What was she doing, getting wrapped up in a moment like this? Such experiences were fleeting and meaningless; she couldn't allow herself to be persuaded otherwise, to leave room for any bud of misguided hope.

“I’ll stay with you tonight, if you’d like,” Izana murmured, his words caressing her almost as softly as his fingers. Zinnia’s heart skipped a beat as thoughts of elation and comfort clouded her mind. What could he mean by offering her such a luxury? She certainly didn't deserve it, but she felt that if she stated such a thought Izana would vehemently deny it.

“If my being by your side will help you heal, I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”

“I can't be a distraction to you, my Lord,” Zinnia replied. “I can't take your time and thoughts away from things that are much more important than my recovery--”

“You are my most important thing.”

He wasn't being rude, demeaning, or sarcastic. Prince Izana uttered such words with a strength and conviction that shook Zinnia to her core. She closed her eyes again, listening to the sound of their breath falling into sync. She couldn't find it in herself to feel anything but satisfied and safe despite knowing those were the last emotions she should be experiencing. Izana was a different person when they were alone like this, and part of Zinnia wondered if what she was seeing now was the real him. Of course, he was always himself when it came to other matters, but this was a side of him she guessed only an extremely select few were able to see. When he was like this, he reminded her of the boy she had fallen in love with. Just remembering the existence of such feelings made her dizzy and anxious.

“My Lord…Prince Izana, you have to be more careful about when and how you decide to say such frivolous things.”

“Frivolous? This is what my heart would say if it could speak. Such words echo in every beat. If you listen hard enough, I'm sure you could hear them.”

He really wasn't going easy on her tonight, and combined with the returning pain in her side, it was too much for Zinnia. She slumped forward, her face now on fire not from embarrassment, but fever. Izana carefully re-situated her in bed, grabbing a cool compress that had been left out for her should she need it for numbing purposes. He placed it on her forehead before pulling a chair to her bedside, resting his hand over the compress after making himself comfortable.

“M--My Prince, you need rest. You can't--”

“Do you dare to assert restrictions on what the First Prince of Clarines is or is not permitted to do?” He teased, although his voice also reflected the rigidity of his decision. No one was going to be able to remove him from her bedside, at least not until he decided it was necessary to depart. Zinnia knew she should trust his judgement; although his affection for her was evident, he was certainly not the type to selfishly put his feelings before his duties or his kingdom. She sighed, placing the hand from her uninjured side over his.

“Thank you, my Prince.”

Izana’s mouth curved into a small and fleeting smile, a smile that disguised just how much he cherished her praise.

“Rest now. I’m here. I won't leave your side.”

[uncheckedtomfoolery]

What about Aya? If you are not really inspired to say anything about the crow of the tempest, I would love to hear your thoughts about Yuuka.

Hello! Sorry it took me a bit to answer this. I was asleep, but I also put it off a bit because it’s going to be a long one. I have plenty to say about both (apologies in advance to anyone who’s read my thoughts on this before), so I’m going to break it up. First post goes to Aya. A few disclaimers first. One, I’m not 100% up to date and informed about canon things. You can probably dig up a snippet from SoPM or something from a printed work I’ve not read and shame me fairly readily. Fish in a barrel. Luckily, I am offering this only as my opinion, so I’m not aspiring to much more than hopefully being interesting. Two, I’m fairly neutral on Aya (an improvement over past years, even then) and like Yuuka (though I’m almost guaranteed to dislike the things people do with her). I’ll try not to let that bias me, though. Now then, bird time, below the cut.

There’s a line in MoF, typically glossed over, that I consider to be highly defining for Aya. She uses it, at the time, to defend fighting the protagonists on orders from above. “Belonging to a group means that sometimes, you don’t get to have your way.“ This kind of puts a dent in the whole careless free spirit thing, doesn’t it? Well, yes and no. Aya is not young; she’s been part of a rigid, hierarchical and protocol-based society for a long, long time. She knows how it works, and if she ever had a ‘down with the system’ phase, it’s over now. She plays along, understands the methods of her society, and works with its rules. She does as she’s told, like many tengu. She is also not your typical tengu. She’s carved out a niche for herself that’s the best and worst of both worlds at the same time. On one hand, she’s important enough to attract notice, scrutiny and responsibility, but not so much that no one can question her (see: Tenma). On the other hand, she’s faffing about with reporting rather than politics for the most part; she’s important enough to push herself into a less fancy position on the basis of ‘I feel like it’, as I see this, and it’s a less stifling one that regularly takes her away from the mountain. Does she hate and reset tengu society or something? Nope. But it’s limiting, and she’s not someone who’s a huge fan of limits, so she appreciates a role that lets her do what she wants, within reason. It’s hardly unimportant, given the role it plays in keeping Gensokyo both informed and selectively uninformed, too (FS has a lot more on this). Basically, you’ve got Aya the tengu, who falls in line and does as she’s told, and acknowledges that the rules are important. You’ve also got Aya the careless, chaotic reporter, her public face to non-tengu, who’s basically just messing around, or gives the appearance of such, and follows her own whims. She’s found a balance of sorts, but she’s a good bit more serious than most would guess. This is veering yet further into speculation, but I like to think she approves of any tengu who tries something else or dislikes her, like Momiji or Hatate. She’s been there too, and it’s important that they get a chance to do that sort of thing. Her attitude might come off as condescending, mind you, and maybe it is: “It’s okay, they’ll grow up, but I hope they don’t have to do it too soon.” I don’t see her as tired or beaten down or anything, though. She knows how her world works and has an attitude towards changing it that might be taken as resignation, but she’s still a very cheerful and energetic person, doing work that she considers important, not to mention it appears to be a hobby for her. Do what you love, and all that. Finally, her reporting. Aya’s got something of a… reputation. I’m not even talking about the whole fanon paparazzi routine, let’s not dignify that with a response. I mean that, yes, she gets a rap for inaccuracy and outright lies. This is true if you assume her goal is journalism, but it isn’t. It’s a small subsection of what she’s trying to accomplish. Another is propaganda and deliberate misinformation; FS shows us that manipulating human opinion is a hugely important part of her work. Besides that…I just realised this isn’t absurdly pretentious enough to be one of my Opinion Posts yet so let’s fix that with a comparison: Herodotus. Guy gets a bit of a tough reputation these days for his fanciful stories and inaccuracies. The thing is, history wasn’t a thing back then, as an academic field, so we can’t actually judge by those standards. Similarly… Exactly how much of a modern journalistic tradition do you think feudal Japan had? Zero. Therefore, there isn’t much of a perception of how the field ought to behave. No, she’s not all accurate, and yes this is a problem for some, but how many people actually care? Her paper circulates well enough, no? Basically, her relationship towards the truth becomes a lot less strange once you realise two things. One, this is part propaganda. Two, there’s no precedent to follow, and she’s about 50% telling stories. There’s a real chance that neither author nor audience sees a problem with making up a few things or diving into the fray to tell a more entertaining story. That’s about it. I’ll work on Yuuka in a bit!