#(especially since I draw the back spike real weird sometimes)

[mewkwota]

Scribbly lil'sitting pose that I thought looked really cute. (They're supposed to be in the Net, but I'm not sure how clear that is.)

[fallen-in-dreams]

Mon Amant

Also on AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary: She wasn't a fantasy to him. She wasn't a wet dream. She was the real thing. For KakaSaku Month 2021. Post-war. *Mon Amant - my lover* Prompt: (Week 2, Day 4: May 13) The Heart Wants What It Wants. Rated: Mature Words: 7,346. Status: Complete.

Author note: Lots of angst and post-war life evaluation and some smut.

Thank-you so much @kakasaku-haven for hosting this. It’s already the 13th where I live so I hope it’s okay to post this now. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

. She bit her bottom lip in both nervousness and consternation. All these warm bodies gyrating, and she was beginning to think this party was just an excuse to hook up. But the funds raised were going to a good cause, so there was no point in complaining. Everyone wore their masquerade masks well, especially the man currently holding his hand out to her, silently asking for a dance. She smiled and accepted his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. He had a henge on and so she couldn’t tell if his mask covered his upper or lower face, which was frustrating. But he held her delicately, danced like he owned the stage, and looked at her like she was the world, and she was quickly and easily enamoured. And when they slipped out the back to fuck, everything just came naturally. There was groping that came with one-night stands in alleyways. There was murmuring but very little kissing, as one would expect from clandestine trysts. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning at the wonderful feeling of him filling her, there was no pretending she didn’t like it rough. He was still a mystery to her, then. There was no way that he didn’t know exactly who she was, but his mask stayed on his face the entire time. .

Images of her wrapped around him, biting her bottom lip, clawing his back and scrunching her eyes as he came inside of her...they tormented him. Not because his lusting after his former student was some wet dream fixation he couldn't get out of his head. Not because he couldn't have her, and imagining her breasts bouncing as he fucked her against some random wall was a major factor of his night-time fantasies. She tormented him because he couldn't get enough of her.

The first time they had sex was in the back room of a bar during the first annual allied shinobi celebrations – a masked function that was so successful that the powers that be decided to keep the theme for every event. It was supposed to maintain the appearance of cooperation and friendship between the nations while giving people the freedom and confidence to mingle without previous prejudice. During the seven days leading up to it there were competitions and friendly tournaments but on that final (and only masquerade) night, the lines between their countrymen blurred and the drink flowed as heavily as the reduced inhibitions did.

Relations between nations had never been so good.

The original plan was to hold the masquerade in neutral areas until Naruto suggested they rotate the host between each nation. That meant that it would take five whole years for every village to have their turn, and five whole years of people hooking up with a foreign shinobi; the allure of the mystery and no-strings-attached sex brought in hordes of ninja. Not to mention the village pride that spiked during the friendly matches leading up to it. They had to have multiple festivities and new buildings set up to cater to everyone. Which was also seen as a competition between the Kage on who could hold the best event. And who could help out war victims more. And who had the best booze. The list of things they competed over were endless.

If it meant peace would reign, it was worth it. But Kakashi’s problems were more important.

Every year and new festival brought him closer to Sakura. Each time he’d don his henge and backwards mask he’d take her to a secluded area and do things to her that he’d never imagined she would love to have done to her.

Every inch of her skin was his to worship.

But the months between their trysts were the hardest. Lonely nights remembering how she felt wrapped around him were driving him mad. She would never accept him in the light of day, so he was resigned to taking those annual moments when Sakura Haruno let loose enough to fuck a complete stranger.

And he was an impatient man as much as he was a self-hating masochist.

His heart wouldn’t be able to take it forever.

.:.

As she came down from her high Sakura gripped his butt with both hands and squeezed, giggling when he jerked slightly. It wasn’t a teasing, flirtatious smile that adorned her face when he looked down at her, surprised. Was she making fun of him? She’d never done that before. Sakura giggled again, and she pressed herself further into him. She let herself relax. He was still inside her and softening but she liked it. The slow circles she traced over his back were born from laziness and contentment. It felt like she was attempting to haphazardly cover him in ninja symbols but due to the drag of her movement, he couldn’t tell which ones. “Are you drawing jutsu on me?” Sakura pulled back and looked up at him. His voice was deeper than usual. She smiled. “Are you pretending to be a shinobi?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I am.” “Hm. And I’m pretending to be Cinderella. Fuck me until midnight, but I’m the one that turns back into a pumpkin.” That was a weird thing to say to someone you thought was a stranger. He frowned. “Who does that make me?” “The Prince-who-isn’t-actually-Charming.” “Huh.” He smiled at that. “That sounds like me.” She just hummed, wiggling her butt as it started to numb, pressed against the brick-and-mortar wall behind her. Her fingers grasped at his chin, feeling bare skin and her question on what type of mask he was wearing behind that henge was answered. Kakashi’s hand flew up to grasp her quickly and she gasped at his speed and the intensity of it. He didn’t want to show her. He’d flee if she pushed him. She released her hold and he reciprocated. But Sakura wasn’t finished yet. She would push him in other ways. “Why the disguise?” .

And fucking her was the only thing keeping him sane.

That was a bad thing. He should be able to handle this post-war funk he'd found himself in without banging his former student. He was a sick, sick old man. And to top it off, she didn't even know it had been him. Every. Single. Time. They. Fucked.

Made love...they made love.

Kakashi shook his head, trying to dispel the thought from his head. It wasn't making love; they'd only ever fucked in crowded pubs and clubs or the back alley of said establishments. The end of the war saw a rise in celebrations, and everyone knew that Kakashi Hatake didn't do celebrations. He always made his excuses on that masquerade night and disappeared until dawn. He didn’t do big crowds and frolicking, so no-one questioned him.

I just do Sakura.

Bad thoughts...he covered his eyes with his right hand, fingering the flask of sake in his left hand, and groaned out loud. Sakura didn't know her mysterious lover was him. But he knew full well it was her. He was taking advantage of her. He had been since she turned eighteen, and he hated himself for it. Their first time had happened because Sasuke had rejected her and refused to let her on the list of approved guests during his stay at the new allied prison – and then when he got out, he treated her like she was a stranger; the only times he acknowledges her was in team missions, outings and spars. She had been suffering that night, which was why she’d gone to the masquerade, and Kakashi had known it.

“Kakashi?”

He didn’t turn to acknowledge Yamato; the other man had made it his mission to get Kakashi out of his funk, but it wasn’t working. Sometimes Kakashi day-dreamed about strangling the wood style user with his own jutsu. Wrapping vines around his throat while pretending he couldn’t hear his cries for mercy calmed him enough to not try it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Just thought you should know that the council is trying to make you Hokage again.”

Kakashi groaned loudly; it was the only reaction Yamato was going to get from him, so the wood style user quietly shuffled away.

Maybe he’s finally learning to just leave me alone.

Or maybe it was just his only reason for hunting him down this time. It didn’t matter. His turbulent thoughts weren’t large enough to house concerns over Yamato’s interruptions as well. Kakashi set aside time to wallow in self-pity – over the years he’d perfected that art – and didn’t like being interrupted while doing so. But after the war that self-pity had turned into anger which eventually morphed into fear (of the future) and finally settled into what he supposed was a mix between wistfulness and regret. Add Sakura to the pile of things he did to hurt himself and something was going to burst soon.

How had his life come to this?

Kakashi frowned down at the broken memorial that once held Obito’s name. How could a rogue ninja have screwed him over so thoroughly, twice, that the only time he felt whole and complete was when he was fucking his former student? Obito’s pain had turned him into something twisted and blind but Kakashi had promised himself never to take that path. He’d fight that lingering darkness even if it meant taking something he didn’t deserve.

He groaned. That was enough whining for the day.

“You got off easy,” he told the epitaph before teleporting away.

.:.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk.” She frowned as he ran a hand down her side; letting out a sigh of anticipation. What kind of line was that? Did that really work on other women? But oh gods, when he rubbed her clit just like THAT she couldn’t complain. He hit her hard and fast, moving those talented fingers right over the spots he’d learned were her weakness. Fuck it, she needed him. But they always did it against a wall and she was beginning to think he believed it was the only way he could take her. What about a bed? What about letting her on top? But those rebellious thoughts quickly lost cohesion as he drove into her. All she was now, was a puddle of wet, slap happy moans and quivering pleas to an unknown deity. She was definitely going to have trouble walking after this. When she did finally come down from the white-hot bliss that Kakashi never failed to provide for her, Sakura decided she’d bug him about changing things up next time. But twelve months was a long time to wait for what she desperately wanted from him. .

The war had left many orphans, shinobi or not, and the homeless outnumbered the dead – most of which were civilian. This count included all nations, as it was public knowledge that the world's shinobi force had been cut by the thousands. So, in light of this, the great nations set up a number of fundraisers, the funds would go to rebuilding homes and replacing personnel. Even the Feudal Lords were getting in on it, donating money to make themselves look good – it was a political move, given that they hadn't had anything to do with the success of the war. But it was still welcomed. And needed.

And nobody deserved that praise more than people like Kurenai. She was determined to find love again, one day, after Asuma, but for now her attention was on all the children also caught by the ravages of war. She had her daughter as inspiration and Yamato’s help to set up a new complex on the outskirts of Konoha – the existing orphanages were too overrun to take them all.

It became her raison d'etre.

Kakashi knew all this because he’d volunteered his dogs as a weekly entertainment for the little brats. After the first few months he let himself be dragged into babysitting a few, nostalgic for the good old Team Seven days when someone was both surprised and in awe over his charming wit. Kurenai must’ve been doing something right because these kids were far more well-behaved than his old team had ever been.

Sakura.

Unbidden thoughts were best shoved to the back of his brain.

Kurenai’s Home for the Homeless also took over a portion of Kakashi’s life. After his role in the creating of the war he needed to give back something. The ninja nations would quickly recover their old strength, but the civilians would be slower to mend. So, he focused his efforts there.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of helping us this time,” Pakkun warned him.

Kakashi gave him his best smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Pakkun huffed at him but said nothing more as he dived into the group of kids who were waiting for him. Their laughter and squealing made Kakashi’s eye twitch, but he kept the smile plastered to his face. And even with his mask on – which the kids had already repeatedly tried and failed to remove – they could tell it was a genuine smile, nonetheless.

This was his seclusion away from his ninja life. So, when Sakura came into the home one late Monday afternoon, Kakashi had a moment of panic – he’d gone out of his way to either avoid her or schedule their unavoidable interactions and he never would’ve believed that homeless shelter was a place she’d willingly visit. Sakura had her own demons regarding the war; her failed attempt at a relationship with Sasuke was the least of her concerns it seemed. She frequently woke from nightmares. And he’d heard she’d had some bad news regarding her fertility.

I’m such a stalker.

So, the reminder of innocence – the children who bore the brunt of the fallout of a war that should never have touched them – should be too much to bear, right?

She looked over at him and smiled her tired smile. He found himself instinctively smiling back. A tugging sensation began at his navel and twisted and heated up as it quickly travelled south.

Not now.

But then Kurenai caught her attention and that coil snapped.

Kurenai.

Kakashi contemplated mimicking Kurenai and trying to move on from his pathetic mindset. He could ask her out, or someone out, and forget all about the calming warmth and somehow simultaneous ferociousness that Sakura invoked in him. But he knew from experience that he would just mope. He would just use it as an excuse to internally ramble about his life mistakes and hate himself. He was still going to Obito’s so-called grave, after all. The man had murdered innocents and started a war but Kakashi still mourned him.

He wasn’t ready to move on, though. Not yet. And certainly not with anyone but Sakura. Or with her.

Kakashi sighed, rubbing his eye where the Sharingan used to be. And he was still moping.

.:.

The fundraiser was in full swing again; the familiar sight of shinobi from all nations done up in masquerade and dancing and drinking warmed even the most aloof and stubborn hearts among them. The Raikage had outdone himself with floating baubles and lanterns with music that played off the masked theme. He’d imported some band from across the Northern Sea to play until midnight. Like it was some Cinderella ball and the Raikage was looking for his own prince. Sakura smiled at that as she made her way through the streets of the village hidden in the cloud. It was her first actual visit to this part of the land of lightning and she was buzzed from the excitement of it all. Ino was off doing her thing – or doing some cloud ninja, who knew – and Sakura was content to lazily explore the village while keeping her eye out for her ex-sensei. He always made excuses to not directly participate in the festivities, but he was Hokage now. He needed to at least be here. She pitied the ninja who had to remain in their home village as a part of their skeleton crew during these festivities. They were mostly just lower levelled shinobi (and those who either didn’t want to travel or couldn’t) anyway. Ones that didn’t participate in the war were usually shafted to that position too. These festivities were mostly for the survivors. It sounded elitist, but Sakura wasn’t too worried about that. They deserved this. It took her an hour to realise she was being followed – she blamed the alcohol now swarming in her system. But like she couldn’t tell who he was, the baka. He never did fully appreciate her natural talents with genjutsu. She led him on a bit of a merry chase and allowed him to catch her near the temporary accommodations for foreign ninja but the moment his hands found her waist he manoeuvred her toward the nearest alley way. What was with him? Sakura could do little other than moan as he pressed her against the stone wall, face first. He worked on her clit as he grabbed her tits, seemingly not wanting to be tender, again. When he did let his guard down and be gentle with her, they headed into territory that neither was ready for. Okay. She could go with this. Sakura pushed her arse into him, rewarding him for his attentiveness to her body. “Yes, fuck, like that! Please!” He quickly dispensed of any more formalities and Kakashi undid his pants in record time before driving into her, squeezing his eyes shut to the hypocritical mantra in his head. He didn’t want this but so desperately did at the same time. Sakura didn’t bother keeping quiet, ignoring the occasional passer-by of the alleyway who was momentarily drawn by the sound of her cries. When they realised it wasn’t someone being attacked, they quickly scuttled off. She didn’t even care if any of them recognised her as the former Hokage's protégé. Sakura came hard at that thought and trembled as Kakashi rode out the last few strokes whispering naughty things in her ear. She didn’t want this to end here. It wasn’t her orgasm making her tremble as the thought occurred to her. She wanted to see ALL of him. She pushed him to pull out of her and then shakily spun around on the spot. Sakura sucked in a deep breath for courage and forced herself to sound calm as she asked, “my place or yours, next?” Her fingers were like fire as they caressed his arm. Kakashi could only pant in response, struggling to hold himself up as she put bad thoughts in his head. She waited patiently, clearly expecting a response. Did he dare to hope? Maybe she was just basking in her own afterglow and didn’t mean it. Because she had no idea who he was. But when he finally recovered enough to pull back and stare into those unfathomably beautiful, emerald eyes of hers he realised she was serious. She wanted to know who he was. There was no doubt he was the same man she’d been fucking annually, this whole time. And she was ready to really know him… maybe? Kakashi felt shame and fear rush through him. And fled .

He was such a coward. It was so easy to love and leave her. Much easier than admitting how he felt. And infinitely easier than removing his henge and accepting whatever recriminations she had for him.

“You still sulking?”

Gai couldn’t come and annoy him as often as he used to so Yamato had taken up that mantle. But at least he didn’t wax poetic about youth and all that crap. Not that Kakashi wasn’t feeling like he didn’t need a pick-me-up, but Yamato’s style was decidedly less annoying. When sober.

He decided to humour him, since masochism was the least he deserved after that last run-in with Sakura.

“Just about the naughty fun I had in Kumo last week.”

Yamato scoffed. “I don’t drink nearly enough to be hearing that.”

“You drink enough for the both of us.”

He wasn’t going to pull the I-missed-out-on-the-war-so-I-get-to-complain-more-than-you card. Yamato may have been captured but he didn’t watch his comrades die in front of him. Not this time, anyway. Kakashi had no idea how much of the experimentation Kabuto did on him that he remembered. Did it change his chakra? Did it leave him with nightmares? Did he have to buy new sheets for his bed every week because of how much he tore them up when he could actually get some semblance of sleep?

Did he remember nothing at all?

Kakashi would’ve liked to have slept through the war, if it was still a guarantee they’d have won. That Infinite Tsukuyomi might have been beyond stupid, but the lure of peace was enticing. Still, he bore his pain. Even if he did run from it from time to time.

From Sakura, you mean, old man.

He chuckled, surprising Yamato.

“Did you hit your head, Kakashi-senpai?”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore.”

He was Hokage now, after all.

“Some habits are worth not breaking.”

“Hm. If they annoy me, you mean.”

“That’s the spirit. Laugh at my expense, like you always do.”

Kakashi looked over at him and felt himself relax at the teasing look on the other man’s face. It was a welcomed respite that he knew he didn’t deserve. “Right.”

“By the way, Sakura’s looking for you. Might want to head on over to her place later to find out what about or risk the almighty wrath. See you later.”

Yamato left him to his thoughts then, not knowing how dark they’d turn in his absence.

As far as he could tell she wasn’t dating anyone, though he didn’t stalk her enough to know if she occasionally scratched the same itch that he scratched every year. He didn’t want to know if some other guy had been inside her.

Kakashi was well aware that the best way to combat this would be to confess to her and hope she didn’t pound him into the ground, but like he said: he was a coward. He was too used to seeing her as his student. Too used to the self-flagellation of only getting to hold her once every twelve months. He was too comfortable with the barely-see-each-other routine they had going that didn’t make his heart race. He didn’t even know how to begin that conversation with her.

And the Hokage shouldn’t be dallying with a former student.

Kakashi sighed again, running a hand along the graffiti on Obito’s memorial.

As the years droned on so did his monotonous excuses.

.:.

This time he let her pin him to the wall. Because she liked it. And because she could. He groaned into her mouth as she worked her hand over the bulge in his pants, her knees on either side of his left leg. Dry humping seemed to make him even harder, so she kept at him, working him into a tizzy. It was going to be even harder for her this time, if she didn’t slow down. But Sakura was the one in control, so she used her strength to keep him from flipping their positions and taking charge, kissing her way up his bare neck as she did so. When she bit his earlobe, he bucked against her and Sakura slid her hand back down to his pants. But this freed him up somewhat and the disguised Hokage grasped her hips and pressed so hard she knew come morning there’d be a bruise. “Let me show you how much you deserve to be fucked.” Old words that never failed to turn her on, regardless. The fucking part of this interlude was over and before she knew it, her back was against the wall again. So he’d only let her take over for the foreplay? Arsehole. Sakura was feeling petty as Kakashi lifted her left leg over his hip and pushed into her with no more preamble. She gripped his butt harder than necessary, scratched down his back knowing it was going to scar if she didn’t heal it soon, and bit his lip when he leant into kiss her so hard, she tasted blood. “Fuck.” And he liked it. “Fuck,” She echoed his sentiments and cried into his mouth as he took her in the familiar position. She focused on hurting him wherever she could and was rewarded with his groans and fast approaching orgasm. There was no way Sakura was letting this become a once-a-year thing anymore. She wanted this forever. She needed him. “Kakashi…” Did she just…? It didn’t matter, his orgasm was ripping through his body and he was helpless to focus on anything else. Her sudden need to cause him physical distress didn’t bother him – he already had too many scars, anyway. It was a form of masochism and he wondered, as he spilled into her and screamed his release, if she would be up to donning the master title if they ever took this to the bedroom. He could be a very good slave. Fantasies drifted away from him as reality sunk in and he pressed the full length of his body against hers, his face in the crook of her neck as he breathed in her unique scent. It never failed to do him in. But this, whatever it was, needed to either stop or become something more. Sakura was the first to move and adjust her clothing. He stood there, his dick hanging out and unabashed about it, and watched her tuck her knickers back into place. “I won’t wait much longer,” she said enigmatically before turning away from him. Did she realise she’d called out his name? Sakura sashayed away from him. He watched her hips as she went. And narrowed his eyes at her. Yes. She knew. .

Sakura pressed a hand to Bull’s head as the dog stared at her blankly. Kakashi’s ninken was warm to the touch, unlike the man in question. He’d been so cold with her, except for those nights. The annual celebrations had become her ritual too, not just his. One night to forget who she really was, who she was supposed to be. To put her troubles aside and just feel again.

But her time of mourning was over. Even if she did occasionally flit between this fact and her self-pitying thoughts in her head.

Kurenai watched her quietly. As the only person Sakura had confided in, regarding her feelings for Kakashi, she was also a very good listener. The older woman didn’t know they fucked once a year, but she knew more than anyone else.

Sakura removed her hand from Bull and returned it to the brush she’d been using.

“You should ask him out.”

“He deserves better.”

“Maybe you are that better,” Kurenai said, smiling at Sakura’s snort of derision. “Just because Sasuke didn’t have the good taste to like you back doesn’t mean you’re not good enough for anyone else.”

Sakura stilled, the hand brushing Bull now shaking slightly. Sasuke had done more than just not like her back, but Kurenai didn’t know that so she forced herself to keep brushing. The repetitive motion was cathartic, and she took a deep breath, finding herself calming as she inhaled the lingering scent of Kakashi that all his ninken had.

“This isn’t about Sasuke,” she said.

Kurenai sighed. “No, I suppose not.” She stood up. “Need anything, kiddo? I’m heading to the cafeteria.”

“No.”

“Mummy!”

Sakura watched as Mirai came running in and jumped at her mother. She paused in brushing Bull to smile and take in the wholesome moment of the two talking animatedly as they slowly made their way out of the room. She knew that she and Kakashi deserved their shot. She was just so used to waiting a whole year that Sakura sometimes forgot that he was waiting for her, too.

She smiled and returned to her chore. The dogs got weekly baths from Kakashi – one of the few things he wasn’t lazy about was his ninken – so they didn’t need the pinkette to fuss over them. But they seemed to enjoy it so she kept at it. It had been a whole year since she’d first walked into this place. She’d done it to have an excuse to spend more time near Kakashi. Even though the man in question wasn’t here right now, she still did it.

Avoiding this place for her own personal reasons were no longer necessary. She could move on.

“Next?” She asked, when done with Bull. He reluctantly moved away and Guruko bounded up to her, his tail wagging in anticipation.

It was over an hour before Kurenai returned, glowing with happiness while apologetic for how long she took. Sakura simply waved her concerns away. She’d finished the grooming herself and was content to sit back and watch as the kids played with Kakashi’s ninken. The dogs were so sweet to let them pull on their ears and snuggle, the way they did. The kids adored them.

Shiba started telling them a story about how he saved Kakashi from an evil ninja by biting his bum. It had the kids in giggle fits and the other ninken rolling their eyes. Sakura knew, because she’d been there, just how embellished this story was – though Shiba had indeed bitten a rogue ninja who was about to skewer Kakashi, it hadn’t been on his arse.

“Reminds me of the good old days,” Kurenai said, interrupting her thoughts and giving Sakura a cheeky smile. “Asuma and Kakashi would argue over who had the best stories and both of them always embellished.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, they were such polar opposites in so many ways.” Kurenai lost her smile and stared off into one of the adjoining rooms, where Sakura assumed Mirai was playing with the art supplies (she always did that instead of joining the time with the dogs, like she was trying to hog them; it was cute).

The older woman sighed. “One related to a Hokage and rejecting that connection, the other Hokage material who’d take the role readily, even though it never appealed to him.”

Sakura fingered the hem of her skirt absentmindedly. “He’s still griping at Tsunade for being named the sixth Hokage.”

“Who was it that really put him forth for Hokage?” Kurenai asked, teasingly. Tsunade liked making fun of the now-Hokage for not liking his position but it was clear to everyone (except Kakashi, it seemed) that the blonde had had nothing to do with it.

Sakura looked away from her, her face tinging pink. It hadn’t been until his inauguration that she found out he hadn’t actually wanted the position. Why must he hide his feelings so much? “I did.”

.:.

He left her a message to meet him at his favourite drinking spot. It was a place with a similar look to it as Ichiraku, except it sold alcohol – to shinobi only. Her shishou also knew about it and Tsunade raved about the place – it was apparently a new stall set up in the last few months. It was called Shochu, or something like that. Sakura glanced up at the sign before ducking under the flap, half expecting to see Teuchi and Ayame; it was that similar to Ichiraku.

“Welcome!” The owner beamed at her; his eyes squinted closed as a genuine smile graced his battered face. “What’ll you have?”

She glanced at the menu. They also sold Onigiri sandwiches and Renkon chips which made her mouth water just looking at. Sakura decided to splurge, since she’d arrived on time and Kakashi was bound to be late, even to this.

She swallowed nervously. Whatever this was.

“A bowl of Renkon chips and Amazu sauce,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “No drinks, please.”

“Coming right up! Oh…”

Sakura frowned at him as the man’s eyes opened and widened. He grinned. “It’s on the house.”

“Uh…”

“The name’s Kohaku.” If possible, his grin only widened. “And you’re Sakura Haruno. The beautiful pink haired kunoichi with a dazzling smile.”

“Uh…” She felt her face warm.

“Lunch has been paid for,” he continued. “By a secret admirer.” He handed her a note. “He also said to open this only when you’re done eating. Oh, and I’m adding a sparkly to your order. You’ll need it.”

He winked at her and she palmed her face, embarrassed. Did Kakashi set this up? And why?

As Kohaku got started on her order, Sakura fingered the note, feeling Kakashi’s chakra embedded into it. Her heart was fluttering, and she squirmed in her seat. She hadn’t realised he had a romantic side. But why lunch here? And why alone?

“Sakura?”

Her head snapped around at the other patron, not realising until now that she wasn’t alone.

It was Yamato.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating.”

He grinned, holding up a beer. “Drinking.”

“Damn you, Kakashi,” she whispered.

Yamato frowned. “Yes, he said he was joining me for lunch this time. Even told me to tell you it’s his treat for all those times you paid.”

He burped loudly and Sakura realised he was already drunk.

Yamato seemed kind of bummed out, too. She also just noticed he had a few glasses of sake next to him, too; the beer had run out. Downing another glass before turning back to Sakura, he side-eyed her, like she was the one responsible for all his problems. “Are you just going to sit there sulking all day or is there something you need of me, senpai?”

“Senpai?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his vision clearly becoming impaired. He thought she was Kakashi, maybe? The wood style user was beyond drunk, it seemed. And in the middle of the day! She bit her bottom lip, wondering if he’d been like this since the war and she’d just not noticed. Shame filled her and she made a mental note to get the hospital psychiatrist to track him down.

Just to talk.

Or strap him down then talk, as he’s likely to be stubborn about it.

Yamato shook his head. “Oh, it’s not him. It’s you.” He patted the stool next to him. “Sit, I don’t bite my teammates.”

Sakura wasn’t convinced.

He sighed. “Lady Tsunade told me to kep… I mean keep an eye on Kakashi. He was supposed to be here drinking but in-instead I got you.” He patted the stool again. “Sit, blossom tree. Sit.”

He had to be harmless when drunk. Sighing, Sakura got off her stool and instead sat down next to him, grudgingly. “She mentions he’s over drinking.”

“No, he hasn’t. But I have.”

She sighed again. “That’s what I meant.”

Yamato just shrugged and loudly ordered a bottle of sake and another glass.

“I’m not drinking with you.”

Yamato swayed and shook his glass in her face. “Who said it was for you?”

She didn’t need this. “I’m going.”

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no! I’ll behave!”

Sakura was half-way off her stool when Yamato grabbed her hands and pouted at her. She sat back down to avoid making things worse and he brightened up, humming and grinning when the sake bottle and glass arrived. He slid the glass to her and, unsurprised, she accepted as he poured her shishou’s favourite drink into it. But she didn’t drink.

They waited in silence and Sakura eagerly accepted her food when Kohaku handed it over, complete with a smile and twinkle of his very white teeth. Maybe he was related to Gai sensei?

Yamato watched her closely as she ate, then darted his eyes away when she glared at him. He kept throwing her weird looks but waited until she was done and had the bottle of bubbly in her hand before asking, “so, what’s got you looking f-for drinksies?”

“I was looking for…”

Him.

They’d been shagging on the alliance celebrations for five years now and she knew very well that he knew very well who she was the entire time. Talking with Kurenai about moving on and finally being able to put Sasuke behind her, she felt different. Like she was coming out of a black haze of morosity that had been engulfing her and Sakura was finally waking up. Giving into Kakashi every year and spending the rest of the twelve months pretending nothing happened had broken her more than she realised.

And now.

Now she wanted her life back. Kakashi was a loose end that needed to either be severed or restitched. She knew which one she would choose, so the resolution to this weird tryst would depend on what he wanted from her.

Why does my love life always have to be in the hands of others?

Yamato made a grumbling noise, breaking her thoughts and mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch.

"What?"

He slammed the drink down on the counter and eyed her suspiciously. "I s-saaaaid, he has a fuck bu-buddy."

Sakura sighed, nursing her drink and wishing she didn’t have to deal with this; she didn’t really want to hear about how Kakashi had found himself a new piece of arse and how his friends were so happy for him. She knew very well that she was the piece of arse and didn’t want to know all the lewd things her sensei had told his friends.

And then it hit her.

She was just another fuck.

She was usable.

She was recyclable and replaceable.

She was disposable.

Sakura had never pictured Kakashi having a sex life – the man was so reserved; she’d begun to think his only lover was those Icha Icha books of Jiraiya’s. It was why she’d been surprised the aloof man had instigated their trysts. How often did he sleep around? She felt her stomach twist at that thought.

Am I just another toy? Is that why he’s been so reluctant to reveal himself? Is he ashamed?

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears. This was ridiculous. A drunken comment from her former taichou didn’t determine her worth to Kakashi.

“Some of the guys thought he was gay or asexual for a long time,” Yamato went on, and the pinkette found herself frozen on the spot; her body rigid and the drink getting warm in her hand. “Not that there’d be anything wrong with th-that, you… you judgy… uh, thing.” He gave her the stink eye.

The wood style user balked for a moment, as though he was about to vomit in front of her, but then seemed to get a hold of himself, throwing back another shot and coughing loudly. “Uh… that smarts.” He wiped his mouth. “Where was I… oh yeah, turns out Kakashi-senpai has a fuck buddy.”

Yamato spun around on his stool and stopped after the second spin, peering closely at Sakura. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Hm.” She found her voice only to clamp her mouth shut.

“Well anyway,” Yamato went on, indicating to Kohaku.

But the older man shook his head. “You’ve tapped out.”

“Whaaa?!” Yamato grabbed his bottle and Kohaku swiped it out of his hand.

“No,” he said fiercely. “No more for you. I told you only three bottles.”

Yamato pouted but it got him nowhere. He turned on the stool, looking like he was going to stumble away, but he didn’t budge.

“Sakura?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why does Kakashi-senpai get to find someone special and I d-don’t?”

“Special?”

He nodded. “Wants to spend his life with her. ‘Fraid he won’t be able to.” He sighed and smacked his lips together. “I want that someone t-too.”

He groaned, turning back to the bar and flopping his head down on it. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

Sakura wasn’t paying attention to him now, sliding off her stool. "I have to go. Sorry!"

Yamato groaned; pushing his glass toward the bemused barkeep, he tapped it, silently demanding more even though Kohaku had just told him no. "Fine!" He yelled, waving his other hand at Sakura's retreating back. "Stick me with the bill like you always do, Kakashi-senpai!"

.:.

The note had very little to say, but it was his chakra that led her on. Sakura ran like the wind. This was a jutsu she’d never heard of and he was so teaching it to her later.

But right now, she needed answers from this adorably annoying man.

It didn’t take her long to realise it was leading her to his apartment.

“My place or yours, next?”

Her desire to get him into a bed had started so long ago. Was he finally relenting? She wanted more than the sex though, so if that was all he was really after…

Stop obsessing.

She slowed down as his apartment loomed in front of her and walked a natural pace up the stairs and to his door. She gasped as he opened the door and Sakura focused on the man in front of her; he looked tired by happy.

Did he really want this?

He smiled but said nothing, clearly waiting for her to start talking.

But Kakashi was averse to blunt confessions. And if she learnt anything from Sasuke she knew that emotionally stunted men – even if they were as emotionally needy as Kakashi – needed a lighter touch. Like a startled animal in the wild she needed to approach with caution.

Play it cool.

“So,” she drawled. “Shochu huh? Couldn’t afford a fancy restaurant?”

He huffed and stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”

“I don’t know, I’ve already eaten.” He raised an eyebrow and she ignored it, continuing. “What other reason could I have to enter your apartment at this time of day?”

He chuckled suddenly, startling her. “You’re not subtle, Sakura.”

She groaned and stormed in. He closed the door and turned to face her, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You sent me the note, Kakashi. The ball’s in your court.”

“Is it?”

She swallowed heavily. How could he look so calm about this? Okay, no more preamble bullshit. She wasn’t going to try (and clearly fail) to be subtle about this anymore. She stepped over to him, palming his chest and smirking as she felt his heart race under her fingertips.

“Sakura?”

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

“I have no idea.”

He smiled under his mask and didn’t pull away when she touched it gently.

“But I’d like to see where it takes us.”

Kakashi tugged on the edge of his mask without pulling it down. “I don’t know. You might not like what you see.”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Then you won’t see all the good things, Sakura-chan.”

“Drop the chan.” Sakura inhaled deeply; the look on his face, from what she could see, was amusement. “And drop the mask.”

They’d danced around each other enough. She could feel the tension in his body as she pressed against him. He was as worried as she was, just hiding it better.

Indeed, Kakashi felt very little other than trepidation as Sakura demanded he let it go. For five years he’d hidden behind a masquerade to take what he wanted not knowing if it was what he needed. So, he talked a big game, but could he let go of the angst and self-loathing he was so well-known for?

He trembled as her grip became mildly painful. She was determined but scared, her eyes widening slightly as she stubbornly held his gaze. This was so much harder than whispering dirty words in her ear and fucking her warm, writhing body into a non-descript wall. This required courage.

But he needed to do this.

One step at a time.

And the first step was dropping his mask and kissing the woman he loved. Without shaking like some teenage virgin.

But once his face was bare, she took over.

Her mouth was on his and an instant later all the tension left his body. They pulled each other in, gently and lovingly caressing; there had been enough rough fucks, this wasn’t about that. This time they could take it slowly. And do more than just stand against walls. He steered her toward his bed as she started exploring his mouth and finally, he leant into the kiss with no self-pity or angst. Only with hope for the future.

…

[nightingiall]

head in the clouds: part vii

{story page} // {read on wattpad} // {characters}

Rory thinks she’s forgotten how to function like a normal human being. 

She feels stuck in a dream-like daze, mind replaying the events of the other night on loop. It seems as though every time she thinks about it, she remembers more. Remembers fingertips skimming along her jawline only to tangle in her hair, a hand planted to the small of her back holding her close, being pressed against a warm body and feeling as though this was the only thing that was right in the world. 

She’s so consumed by these thoughts that she keeps forgetting that she has to visit real-life sometimes. This morning, she over-poured her coffee, not realizing until it was spilling over and burning her fingers. She put butter onto her bagel instead of cream cheese, texted Gigi instead of her mom, and nearly put salt instead of sugar into Gigi’s tea. 

It goes without saying that her roommate is not impressed. 

“Girl, what is up with you lately?” Gigi huffs at her latest transgression: she’d handed her the wrong set of keys this morning which led to her being locked out until Rory could get back and let her in. 

Gigi kicks off her shoes at the door and heads straight to the kitchen to wash her hands and grab a glass of water. Meanwhile, Rory lingers, taking her time in actually stepping inside because she knows what is about to happen next and she’s not sure how to explain it all to her best friend. 

Gigi notices because of course she does, watching her warily as she steps in and hangs her bag. “What happened?” she asks simply, presumably unable to take the silence anymore. 

Rory averts her eyes, already trying to plan an escape to her room. But deep down she knows that she’s not getting out of this conversation, so the current game plan is to buy enough time until she can figure out what to say. “Nothing.” 

Gigi clears her throat, quickly stepping in front of her to give her a serious look. “Don’t play with me, Rory. What happened?”

She responds with a shrug, still not making eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Her attempt to get around her friend turns out to be futile, Gigi effectively blocking her off and sending her a glare this time. “Rory, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me now then I’ll get it out of you somehow and you know my methods aren’t always pretty.” 

Rory knows better than to mess with her. Gigi is persuasive when she wants to be but she’s known for getting to the bottom of things in unconventional ways and Rory did not want to take her up on that offer. So she sighs, trudging towards the couch and plopping down into it, wishing distantly that it would just swallow her whole. 

“It’s Niall, isn’t it.” That is not a question, and Gigi makes it clear when she stands in front of her, hands on her hips, glass of water still clutched in one of them. “What did he do?”

Rory realizes that she doesn’t know how to explain because she has no idea what actually happened. They were drunk, Rory said some dumb things, Niall kissed her, and then everything after that is a mess. She’s spent every waking moment attempting to unravel the tangled strands of memory that are jumbled up in her mind but still can’t wrap her head around what exactly went wrong. She doesn’t know why he abruptly left afterwards or why he won’t respond to her texts. As usual, everything was great until it wasn’t, and now nothing makes sense. 

“Rory, jeez, can you get out of your head for five minutes and talk to me?” Gigi is eyeing her with concern now, sitting on the couch next to her, and Rory sighs, wishing once again that she could just evaporate into thin air and not have to deal with her nosy friend at the moment. 

“He kissed me.” It feels strangely rousing to say it out loud, like it really happened and wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. 

Gigi gasps, clearly shocked and confused because she slides her glass onto the coffee table to give Rory her full attention. “Seriously?” she asks, and Rory nods, a sigh filtering through her lips once again. “Then why on earth are you so upset? Isn’t that what you wanted.” 

And it is what she’s wanted. For as long as she’s realized how attracted she is to him, all she’s wanted was to kiss him. But Niall’s reaction afterwards is still playing on loop in her head, like a broken tape. “Yeah, but,” she huffs, feeling too many things at once and unable to articulate any of them, “now I feel like everything is weird because after it happened he like...left so fast and...now he won’t answer my texts and…” She groans exasperatedly, sinking deeper into the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest. “I don’t know.” 

Gigi is silent, taking in her words, and it’s a long moment before she speaks again. “Have you tried going over to his place?” 

Rory shakes her head, but the idea did occur to her, especially since they didn’t share lifeguard shifts today. “Should I?” 

At that, Gigi gives her a small smile, placing a reassuring hand over hers. “You like him, right?” 

Rory’s cheeks fill with warmth. She likes him so much she forgets how to breathe around him. “Yeah,” she whispers, hugging the pillow closer. 

“Then go and tell him.” Gigi gives her hand a squeeze. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Rory scoffs, pouting. “He can reject me and say that he regrets everything that happened.” 

Gigi’s smile softens as she shakes her head. “You know, I have a feeling that there’s an extremely low chance of that happening.” 

It only takes a few more moments of cajoling for Rory to huff in agreement, and she heads to her room to get out of her lifeguard clothes and take a quick shower. She washes the chlorine from her skin and gets changed into a comfortable but nice outfit, meticulously applying her favorite lip gloss for good measure. As she’s emptying her bag for her phone, she finds her sketchbook. 

A tired sigh works its way through her at the sight of it. She has yet to find inspiration to draw something good, and is beginning to think that she’s maybe lost her touch. She used to be able to draw all day. No one could ever pry her sketchbook from her hands. And now, she feels as though she hasn’t created anything special or unique in a long time, simply mindlessly dragging her pencil across the pages on some days. 

Or so she thought. 

Because when she opens the book now, she finds that she has been inadvertently creating something meaningful after all. Spilled across page after page is a summary of her entire summer. At first glance, it may not be as obvious, but she sees it with each flip through the book. Niall’s hands curled into Spike’s fur as the cat curls into his lap; Niall’s fingers caught mid-movement drumming a tune onto his water bottle; Niall emerging through the water of the pool, water stretched like jelly over him as he hasn’t yet broken the surface; Niall in the middle of a laugh, blurred fairy lights hanging over him like stars. 

Niall.

He’s everywhere, scattered across the pages of her sketchbook, and despite the fact that many of the drawings don’t include his face or identifiable features, it’s all of him. Rory came back to Hightstown because it’s tradition, because she wanted to move past last summer, because she wanted to find inspiration for her drawings, the artist in her clawing at her chest, waiting for release through her fingers. And she realizes now that her inspiration has been right in front of her the whole time.

Rory remembers wondering whether it was possible for her to be able to just draw her feelings, that perhaps that would be easier than trying to put them into words. And now she sees that she has. All summer she’s been drawing her feelings, been pouring her heart out throughout the pages of her book, without even recognizing it. 

And suddenly, she knows what she has to do.

***

Rory shoves her sketchbook into her bag and walks out of her place with a fire in her eyes. She’s a woman on a mission and she’s going to set everything right tonight. 

There are 19 days left of summer and it’s time to tell Niall how she feels.

***

Rory is fuming.

It’s still insufferably hot out at the pool today, but it doesn’t compare to the hot ball of anger simmering within her, a slow, boiling roll that is threatening to burst and spill over. The feeling only grows the longer she looks at Niall, sitting in the lifeguard chair across from her on the other side of the pool. 

At least he has the gall to look nervous at the way she’s glaring at him through her sunglasses, a scarlet flush spreading down his neck to his chest. His fingers are not rhythmically drumming against his water bottle today. Instead, he haphazardly taps against it, a messy staccato that is clearly not set against a song or tune.

Rory bitterly thinks that it’s good that he’s nervous. Because she could scream at him she’s so angry. Because he kissed her and now he’s ignoring her and she hasn’t been able to get ahold of him long enough to ask why. 

She’d gone over to his place last night, armed with her sketchbook and all of her unspoken feelings, ready to tell him that she’s spent the whole summer falling for him and that she couldn’t stop. A nervous lump had formed in her throat, growing larger with each step she took towards his place, and by the time she had made it to his door, she felt like she could pass out with how much she couldn’t breathe. 

But the nerves quickly evaporated, being replaced with concern and then frustration, because no matter how long she knocked, he would not open the door. She checked through his windows and even called out his name only to receive no response. And because she didn’t want to cause a scene or draw attention to his place because of Spike, she then had no choice but to return to her place with her tail between her legs, humiliation stinging at her. 

Still, she was more concerned than upset, wondering if he was okay, wondering if perhaps it wasn’t his intention to ignore her but something else was going on. She wouldn’t know until she saw him though, because her texts and calls were going unanswered as well. 

It wasn’t until she arrived at the pool for her shift in the morning that the multitude of emotions swirling within her threatened to erupt into a full blown rage. He’d completely avoided her when she’d tried to get his attention and he isn’t behind her in the rotation and Rory is so annoyed that she could scream. 

Because...what did it all mean? Did he regret everything? Did he wish he could take back that moment that he kissed her and suddenly it was as though all the stars aligned and everything was so right? He had to have felt it too, the way everything seemed to click into place, the way nothing else could ever compare. He had to. 

And Rory couldn’t lie to herself and deny that the anger was a mask for the drop of discouragement she felt in her stomach whenever he averted his eyes from her gaze. She couldn’t ignore the way she could feel her heart beating in her throat every time she envisioned confronting him only to be rejected. She couldn’t--she wouldn’t be able to handle it. If he told her that he regretted kissing her then she knew her heart would break into a million pieces. 

As the day goes on, she feels her anger simmering away into dread, into apprehension, and suddenly she’s afraid to even confront him at all. Her mind is telling her that perhaps it is better if he doesn’t have to reject her, that perhaps it is better if she just takes the hint and moves on. And they don’t have to talk about it. And they can just pretend this whole summer never happened. 

But then she thinks of her sketchbook, laying on her bed back at her place, where she left it after flipping through it again this morning, and she realizes that the memory of this summer, even if they left it like it is right now, would never leave her. It would haunt her, in her dreams, in her sketchbook. Those drawings would always remind her of what could have been. And she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want an almost. She wants something real. 

This thing with Niall...it’s the most real thing she’s ever experienced. Whenever she’s with him she feels like she does when she’s drawing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like she’s alive. Whenever she’s with Niall, everything feels right. 

She frowns when she looks at him now, sulking into her lifeguard chair. All she wants is to talk to him and she doesn’t know what to do. 

The hours of their shift seem to stretch on for an eternity. With each passing moment Rory feels more and more restless. She’s never hated having to stay in one spot for such a long period of time more until right now, as every single emotion under the sun courses through her. From dejection to annoyance to confusion to uneasiness, Rory feels like she’s lived an entire lifetime in the hours she’s spent sitting there staring at Niall. 

Someone blows the whistle to signal for adult swim and they rotate again. It’s the last rotation of their shift and it just so happens to be Rory’s break. Normally, when this happens, she simply gathers her things to get ready to head out. But today, she waits. If the way Niall had been wriggling in his chair every time he made eye contact with her was any indication, she knows she’ll have to try and get to him before he can slip away. 

So she waits in the secluded entryway of the locker rooms, left alone with her thoughts and tangled web of feelings coursing through her. She wonders now what she should say, how she should act, what her most prevalent emotion is. She tries to only think about all of the things she wants to say to him instead of what he might say back. If she continues to conjure up every single worst case scenario in her mind then she’ll only psych herself out and never approach him at all. 

“Rory,” someone hisses, and when she snaps out of her thoughts she finds that it’s Alejandra speed-walking towards her. She’s wearing an expression that looks like a mixture of concern and bewilderment. “What is happening? Did you and Niall break up before you even got together?”

Rory sighs, frowning to herself. Of course she noticed. “It’s complicated,” is all she can think to say, because she doesn’t know how else to explain. Then, she brightens slightly, an idea coming to her. “Can you help with distracting everyone else while I grab him? He always walks to the Shacks with Zafar and Shane and I really need to talk to him.” 

Alejandra grins at her, eyes lighting up. “Of course.” Then, a sort of wistful look falls over her features as she clasps her hands over her chest. “Anything for young love.”

And so, they wait. Alejandra and Gigi are similar in the sense that they have this uncanny ability to just pull information out of a person, so Rory ends up divulging bits and pieces to her as they keep lookout for Niall. Alejandra calls her an idiot for not running after him the same night he kissed her and Rory pitifully huffs that she was drunk and too stunned to function. 

They bicker back and forth for a few more moments until they spot him, freezing and glancing at each other, conviction written all over their faces, and it’s barely a moment until they’re both rushing out of the locker room. Rory doesn’t have time to second guess herself. She hasn’t even yet planned what she’s going to say because it’s seconds before Alejandra is intercepting the boys, distracting them with a conversation about someone needing help procuring a keg for a party, buying Rory enough time for her to grab Niall’s hand and tug him away. 

“What--” he stumbles out, tripping slightly over his feet with how abruptly she pulls him, but allows her to lead him anyway when he realizes what’s happening. “Rory--oh--”

“Shhh,” she gets out. She has no idea where she’s taking him until she sees the pool supply shed nearby and tugs him towards it. “Just follow me.” 

Her voice escapes her more curtly than she intends and she can feel Niall’s steps hesitate behind her as a result. “Rory I’m really sorry,” he blurts out just as she’s getting the shed door open. She gives him a look only to find his eyes widened as he watches her nervously, following her inside like a wounded puppy, and she’s barely closing the door behind her before he starts babbling. “I didn’t mean to like, avoid you or anything but I was so nervous that you were going to be upset and--” He pauses to acknowledge whatever expression she throws him, holding his hands out cautiously. “Okay you are upset and that is completely valid because I’ve been a prick--”

“Niall,” Rory huffs, belatedly realizing that perhaps she didn’t need to stress over what to say to him since he seems to have thought of everything for her.

“--and I swear it was never my intention to come across as a jerk because I’m really not like a stereotypical ‘Shack guy’ who has no regard for other people’s feelings--”

“Niall, I know--”

“--it’s just that I really wanted to kiss you all summer and I was drunk and I don’t really know what came over me and I’m so fucking sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way I swear I’m not the kind of guy to try and take advantage of you or anything and I was really nervous that you’d think poorly of me and never want to see me again because I was impulsive and stupid and--”

“Niall, seriously, just--” Rory is overwhelmed with all the words he’s throwing at her and she wonders if he’s going to stop and breathe anytime soon because she’s been holding her breath throughout this entire exchange and she can really use some oxygen to her brain right now, but he just keeps going. 

“--I was only avoiding you because I didn’t know how to face you after everything and I didn’t know if I’d ruined our friendship and I know you’ve already been through a lot and I didn’t want to be another dumbass that fucked with your feelings but then I realized today that that’s exactly what I’ve done and I’m so sorry, I really--”

“Jesus Niall, shut up!” Rory finally takes a breath to clear the thoughts running wild in her mind, scrubbing her hands over her flushed cheeks to try and cool them down, eyes clenched shut as she tries to regain her focus. She doesn’t even know where to begin after everything he’s just said, all of her emotions tangled in a knot within her, but when she opens her eyes to look at him, taking in his wide eyes and heaving chest and a scarlet red blush that traveled the length of his neck only to disappear into the collar of his long-sleeved white tee, she realizes that for once, she should stop thinking about everything so much. She should just listen to the strong and sure sound of her heart, tugging her in the direction of this boy who has turned her whole world around in the matter of a season. Taking a singular step towards him, bridging only a fraction of what feels like an expansive gap between them, she breathes, “I’m not upset with you.” 

Niall watches her like she’s just told him she can pluck the sun out of the sky, those bright blue eyes swirling with a storm of emotions much like the way she’s feeling, and he, too, takes a deep breath. “You’re not?” he whispers, as though the wooden walls surrounding them are not allowed to hear. 

Rory shakes her head. She feels alight with energy, a warm sensation flowing through her, a fuse ready to blow at any moment. “Well...I was. But not because you kissed me. For what happened after.” 

Niall is looking at her like she has the ability to break him, vulnerability coursing through him, and she doesn’t know what to do with that, the power he’s given her by placing his heart in her hands. Because if he hadn’t kissed her, they wouldn’t have been here now. Rory might have never broached the subject and they might still be tiptoeing around their feelings for each other. 

“I just--” She, once again, has no idea what to say, wishing that she remembered to bring her sketchbook so she could just show it to him and he can see her heart laid bare across the pages. “I can’t stop--” The words are all lodged in her throat, desperation and longing and want thrumming through her veins, her whole body shaking with it, goosebumps rippling over her skin the longer she looks at him. Niall, for his part, watches her hesitantly, hopefully, and, like always, she’s consumed by him.

All she can think about is kissing him, the last memory of his lips on hers activating a desire within her that’s unlike any she’s ever experienced. She wants so bad that she can’t even remember how to breathe anymore, all of the emotions that have been at war inside her for the past few days welling up until she’s nearly moved to tears. And she can’t take it anymore. It’s clawing at her, the way she feels for him, ripping at her chest in desperate need of release. So she’s not even thinking when she closes the gap between them to wrap her arms behind his neck to pull him into her, crashing her lips to his. 

She kisses him so hard it knocks the wind out of her, and she’s gasping for breath as he moans softly into her mouth, his own arms wrapping around her to hold her closer, tilting his head to kiss her deeply. She feels like she can’t be close enough, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt along his shoulders, tugging him towards her as she pours her entire soul into this kiss. 

It’s more frenzied than the first time, more desperate, like they have something to prove, like this could be the last kiss they ever have. Niall holds her like she’s made of glass, hands smoothing up the ridges of her spine, delicate touches of warmth that seep into her skin and tumble around in her chest. His lips trail down her jawline, leaving a searing hot trail towards the hinge where he rolls the skin there gently between his teeth, a shuddery sigh working its way out of her throat. He retraces the path of the sound, pressing feather light kisses down her neck and over her collarbones and back up again until he’s hovering over her lips. 

“Rory,” he breathes, but she can’t help the way she pulls him into a long, languid kiss again, her fingers tangled into the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. She thinks perhaps that he’s like a better version of coffee or alcohol, highly addictive and a habit she would not mind forming. And she’d keep kissing him if he didn’t have something he just has to say to her, pulling away from her lips again. “Rors.” His voice is hushed and raspy around the edges, and when she peels her eyes open she finds that his are blown out into a darker, duskier blue. He’s watching her like he did after the first time this happened again, like he’s somehow terrified and elated at the same time. 

The look he gives her has something flaring up high into her chest and all she knows is that she cannot lose him now that she has him. “What?” she asks, the word escaping her in a ragged whisper. Her hands move to hold his face, fingertips skimming across his warm, flushed skin as she searches his eyes to find whatever it is that has him hesitating. “Tell me, please.” She’s begging but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t want him to slip through her fingers. This is the only thing in a long time that has her feeling like the whole universe has somehow clicked into place for her, and she can’t let him be an almost. “I can’t do this back and forth,” she says, shaking her head desperately, “so tell me what’s on your mind.” 

She can see the way he gulps by how his throat moves. He leans into her touch, a hand coming up to close around her wrist, holding her to him. “I like you, Rory,” he murmurs, gaze locked to hers, and a surge of euphoric butterflies flutter within her at his words. “So much. And, I don’t know if this makes me selfish...” he averts his eyes for a moment and she pulls him back to her, holding onto his every word with bated breath, his eyes a blazing, electric blue now, a magnetic current keeping them tangled within each other. “And I know that summer is ending...but, I don’t want to be just one night, or one summer to you.” He brings his other hand up to her wrist too, pulling her hands down to hold them against his chest. “I don’t want ‘just friends’ with you. I want--”

“Rory!” There’s a commotion happening outside the storage shed, the voice calling out her name muffled from the barriers between them. “Niall! Where are you guys!?” Rory sends Niall a puzzled sort of look because the voice sounds a lot like Gigi’s, but then she gets distracted by the gorgeous pink flush of his skin and ruby red of his lips that her brain momentarily stops working. “Rory,” the voice calls out again, and she begrudgingly untangles herself from Niall and heads towards the door. 

If it is indeed one of her friends then she’ll probably throw something at them because now is not the time nor the moment to be interrupting. She pulls the door open, stepping out slightly as she searches for who is causing all the ruckus only for her eyes to land on her roommate. Gigi sees her too, immediately running over, and Rory doesn't have time to lament at her terrible timing before she’s relaying the worst possible news. 

“They’re doing room checks!” Gigi is huffing as though she’s just marathoned there, her hands pressed to her knees as she attempts to catch her breath. “Leslie called me to tell me. She was trying to reach you.” She then looks towards Niall who has somehow appeared by her side, and Rory glances at him only to spot the disheveled look of him. If Gigi notices the state of the two of them then she doesn’t mention it. “They’re heading over to the Shacks first. I think they’re looking for the cat.” 

“Shit,” Niall and Rory mutter at the same time, and just like that, they’re off, the moment they shared a few minutes ago being filed to the back of their minds as this new issue takes precedence. “What do we do?” Niall asks Gigi as they follow her up the path that leads to the Shacks, panic coloring his voice. 

Gigi brushes a stray strand of her hair back into her head band, huffing exasperatedly. “I have no idea. But apparently Leslie has a plan.” 

Rory wastes no time in fishing her phone out of her waterproof bag and thumbing through her recent calls for Leslie’s number, calling her immediately. She can feel Niall’s nervous energy radiating in waves off of him and it makes her infinitely more on edge. Leslie answers and Rory blurts out, “What are we going to do?”

Leslie must hear how stressed she is because she calmly says, “Okay, just relax. I’ve got a plan. Who’s with you right now.” 

Rory glances at her friends, who are watching her anxiously. They’ve all stopped walking at this point. “Just Gigi and Niall.” 

“Good.” There’s a commotion on Leslie’s end and it almost sounds like she dropped her phone. Rory can make out Harry’s voice on the other end as well as a few expletives paired with the words hurry and heavy, or something along those lines. “Right,” comes Leslie’s voice again, and she sounds a bit out of breath. Rory puts her phone on speaker, with the lowest volume possible, and they all huddle around it. “I’m with Harry. We’ve got Spike and all of his stuff and are heading over to yours and Gigi’s place. Tell Niall to go to the Shacks so they can check his apartment right now and you guys head to your place.” 

Both Rory and Gigi look up at Niall, whose skin is now flushed for an entirely different reason, and he widens his eyes at them. “You promise Spike will be safe right?” he asks into the phone. 

“Yes, I promise,” Leslie says reassuringly, and Rory doesn't know how she can stay so calm when they’re currently in a very stressful situation. 

If the managers find Spike then not only will they all get in heaps of trouble, but they’ll return him to Mrs. Dreyfuss, and who knows what she’ll do to them and Spike. She says none of this out loud, though, instead sending Niall the most comforting smile she can muster as she encourages him that Leslie knows what she’s doing and that he shouldn’t worry. “It’ll be fine,” she says softly, giving his fingers a squeeze, frowning to herself at the way his responding smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll text you to keep you in the loop.”   

She and Gigi watch him nod and hesitantly continue down the path that will lead to his place before they sigh to each other and turn to head in the opposite direction. 

“Are you gonna explain this plan or what?” Gigi asks into the phone, rather impatiently, but Rory is too busy trying to bat away all the worst case scenarios that spark in her mind. 

Leslie explains that after the managers check the Shacks, they’ll head over to the Residences, and since Gigi and Rory’s place are near the entrance and will be among the first to be checked, Harry and Leslie will hide out until that happens and then give them Spike once the managers move on. Then they’ll head over to their places to meet up with the managers for their own room checks. 

It all sounds very straight-forward. And if all goes to plan, then they will have nothing to worry about and Niall will get to keep Spike. But Rory can’t help how nervous she is at it all. It’s one thing to keep a cat, which Niall stole--or saved depending on how one looked at it--hidden from everyone, but it’s a completely different game to do whatever it is they’re doing now. 

Rory and Gigi quickly get to their place and wait. This turns out to be the worst part, the waiting, even though they both know Niall will be fine and that Spike is with Harry and Leslie. They pass time by making tea and alternating between watching TV and scrolling through social media. 

Rory tries not to obsessively check her texts but she can’t help it. She thinks back to the beginning of the summer when she told Niall she would not help him hide his stupid stolen cat, and now she’s here, doing that exact thing. She’s grateful, in this moment, that Gigi, Harry, and Leslie were able to step in and help out as well, because she doesn’t know what they would have done if it was just her and Niall keeping this secret. 

Finally, her phone buzzes with a text. Niall’s name flashes across her screen with a message that reads: All clear. Rory lets out a sigh of relief, even though this is far from over. 

Harry sends her a text a few moments later: Heads up, they’re heading up to your place.

Sure enough, it’s not long until there’s a knock at their door, and Gigi sends her a nervous look before she goes to answer it. Someone from HR walks in and explains that they’re conducting a random room search. They both invite them in and watch as they look around, the HR rep explaining that this is all procedural and they’re not looking for anything in particular. At that, Rory and Gigi glance knowingly at one another, because in the years they’ve been working summers at Hightstown, they’ve never had a room search before. 

After a few moments, the rep seems satisfied with the state of their suite and takes their leave. Rory and Gigi politely see him and his entourage out before hurriedly shutting the door and running for Rory’s phone on the coffee table, which is already ringing by the time she gets to it. 

It’s Harry: “We’re at your back window!” he gets out quickly, and Gigi rushes towards the window in her room, Rory not far behind her. She’s grateful that they have a ground floor suite because this would have been a problem otherwise. 

After a brief struggle, Gigi gets the window open, and Leslie gingerly hands her the half-open duffel, Spike’s head poking out the slightest bit. Even from the tiny gap Rory can see him frowning at them. “Careful,” Leslie grunts as the bag clears the window, “he’s a heavy one.” 

Rory helps with sliding the bag into the room before facing Leslie and Harry, both of them sporting red cheeks and huffing for breath slightly. “Thanks guys,” she says, smiling. “No one suspects anything, right?”

Harry shakes his head, smiling back. “Nah. The only thing they found at some places were people’s weed stashes, but other than that, I think we’re in the clear.” 

Leslie nods, sending Rory a reassuring grin. “Take care, alright? We better get going. When everything cools down we can help with getting him back to Niall’s.” 

Rory waves at them and, just like that, they’re off, running over to their own places before the HR rep shows up. When she closes the window and draws the curtains, she turns around only to find that Gigi has managed to get Spike out of the bag, the cat meowing in what sounds like annoyance at the both of them, perpetual frown intact. Rory looks at Gigi, both of them still jittery from the rush of adrenaline caused by this whole thing, and they can’t help but laugh at how bizarre this all is. 

“You’re a whole load of trouble, aren’t you,” Gigi says to Spike, crouching down to run her fingers across his fur, earning a purr from him. “But you’re cute so I guess you’re worth it.” 

Rory laughs again and they both lure Spike to the living room where they all curl up on the couch, heaving a huge sigh of relief. While the day is not yet over, they’re in the clear now, and that’s all that matters at the moment. She reaches for her phone to shoot a text to Niall letting him know that everything went to plan. 

Spike doesn’t seem to be in the mood for cuddling, instead nuzzling into a corner of the couch and promptly falling asleep, probably tired from the day’s adventures, so Rory and Gigi busy themselves with warming leftovers for dinner. They laugh to themselves for a while, and Gigi remarks that this is perhaps the most eventful summer she’s ever had at Hightstown. Rory readily agrees, glancing over to the couch where this large, frowny, but impossibly cute cat is peacefully slumbering. 

Now that the whole Spike situation has been dealt with, Gigi quickly segues into talking about the elephant in the room, waggling her brows at her roommate as she teases her. “So,” she starts, twirling her fork around a lump of spaghetti, “what were you and Niall doing in the pool shed.”

Rory huffs at her, rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless. Her heart flutters in her chest as she recalls Niall’s words from earlier, that he likes her, that he’s wanted to kiss her the whole summer, that he wants more with her. “Nothing,” she mutters into her plate.

Gigi simply laughs, loud and hearty, and Rory blushes at the sound of it. “You are so whipped for him.” 

Rory rolls her eyes again, but this conversation reminds her of one they had at the beginning of the summer, sitting at this very table, of Gigi teasing and Rory glaring and it’s interesting how the summer has developed since that moment. She endures a round of good-natured joking from her roommate as they finish up dinner and tidy the kitchen. She can’t even retort like she always does because she’s still processing the day’s events and Gigi isn’t even wrong about anything anyway. 

They talk for a few more moments--sans teasing this time--before Gigi heads to her room to grab her clothes, announcing that she’ll be taking a bath. She always spends forever in the bathroom so Rory decides to make herself comfortable on the couch, switching on a movie before getting distracted with a knock on her door. 

She freezes, glancing apprehensively in the direction which Gigi disappeared to only to hear the shower turn on. When it’s clear that she is the one that will have to deal with this, she sighs to herself, slowly making her way towards the door. As her fingers close around the knob, she gulps nervously, hoping that it’s someone she knows and not the HR rep again. 

She hesitantly cracks it open, peering out through the small gap only to find that she needn’t have worried at all, her favorite serene blue eyes blinking back at her, and just like that, her heart slows to a calm beat. “Hey,” she breathes, opening the door fully for him. 

Niall smiles in that soft, bashful way of his and it makes her heart skip a beat. “Hey.” He steps in and she closes the door behind him, turning around only to find that he’s standing incredibly close, the warmth of his skin radiating towards her, and she’s suddenly reminded of how it felt to be all wrapped up in him, how his lips were on hers not even a few hours ago, how much she craves him still. 

“Spike’s in the living room,” is what comes out of her mouth, even though she really wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into her again. 

He nods, sweet smile intact as he lets her lead the way. Once he spots Spike on the couch, he quickly makes his way towards him, hands nuzzling against the cat’s face as he murmurs, “My Spikey boy. You’re safe now.” Spike purrs happily against Niall’s touch, closing his eyes almost blissfully as he stretches against Niall’s lap, and Rory can’t help the way she smiles fondly at the sight. 

Watching Niall laugh softly with the cat, his demeanor gentle and pleasant, she’s reminded of how much she likes him, of how just the sight of him can have a wave of comfort wash over her. She remembers now how he spilled his own feelings to her earlier, wide and honest eyes watching her hopefully, and she hasn’t yet gotten the chance to tell him her truth. 

This changes tonight. She knows that she can’t let him leave without coming clean, without letting him know that she cannot, for the life of her, get him out of her head. Not after she now knows how it feels to be held by him like he’s afraid to break her, not after she now knows how it feels to be truly consumed by him, his lips on hers, his hands brushing across her skin. 

She hurries to her bedroom to grab the sketchbook that’s still resting on her covers, her heart beating a million miles a minute. Anticipation thrums through her skin as she makes her way back to the living room, mind running wild at the thought that this is finally happening, that she’s finally doing this, and there’s no way she’s backing down now. 

She finds him where she left him, perched on the couch with Spike, and when he sees her approaching, he smiles at her, standing up with his hands shoved nervously into his pockets. She’s not sure what look she’s wearing but when she gets closer, his eyes soften a bit, smile faltering only slightly. “Everything okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle in the silence of the living room. 

Rory takes a deep breath, nodding nervously. She doesn’t know what to say so she just unceremoniously hands him her sketchbook. Niall looks at her quizzically before he takes it, his hands brushing against hers as he does. “Open it,” she says, voice nearly a whisper. Her heart is beating as though she’s just run a marathon. 

He wordlessly flips it open, mindlessly going through the pages, eyes lingering on every single one. She sees the exact moment realization dawns on him, his features softening as he takes in a breath. He trails his fingers across the one of him and Spike, one she drew the night she agreed to help him with his whole stolen cat situation, and he looks up at her, blue eyes brightened up like the twinkling stars in the night sky. 

And then, the words just flow out of her. “I like you, too,” she says quietly, twisting her fingers together. “I think I always kinda knew, but I didn’t really think much about it. Our friendship made me so happy that I guess I was too afraid of potentially ruining it.” Niall places the book down on the couch, Spike having long wandered off somewhere, and steps into her space, eyes never leaving hers. “But now…” she breathes, voice catching slightly in her throat as he presses a hand to her lower back. “I realize that I don’t want just friends with you either.” 

Niall’s smile grows impossibly wide at that, his fingers reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear before he gently caresses her face. And this time, when he leans in to kiss her, it’s soft and tender and perfect. It’s not a frenzied, desperate kiss, but one that feels like a promise, like a beginning, like everything Rory has ever wanted. 

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

***

This is how it starts, this new chapter of their lives, this new era in their relationship.

This is how it starts and there are only 18 days of summer left. 

--

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--

tell me what you think!

[senorarelojes]

Fic: Happiest Girl (Part 10)

Alan makes a bet that Dave would not be able to pass off as a woman in ladies’ clothing. Dave decides to prove him wrong. (This is set sometime during the Black Celebration era.)

Pairing: Dave/Alan Rating: Explicit Notes: Thank you @pinksyndication, @what-could-have-been and @im-knocking-on-deaths-door for generally being wonderful! Also, @what-could-have-been outdid themselves with this fantastic artwork of Alan shaving Dave’s legs from Part 4. It’s so hot, I can’t get over blushing Alan!

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here.

By unspoken agreement, they’d gone back to Alan’s room. Everything was exactly where they’d left it, various tubes of lipstick and eyeshadow palettes strewn all over Alan’s dressing table, the shaving implements still left abandoned beside the tub. It was a testament to how distracted Alan must have been earlier; Dave knew he normally would have cleared everything away neatly before leaving.

Then again, Dave couldn’t quite blame him. It’d been a really strange but illuminating evening.

Alan helped him with the wig first, sliding out the hairpins before taking it off Dave’s head. Dave couldn’t help the sigh of relief. It had been fun, having long hair, but it was starting to get a bit hot and itchy as well. Alan also unzipped the dress for him, and they dropped it into the bag designated for hotel laundry. Once Dave was just in his briefs, he hooked an arm around Alan’s neck and dragged him closer, kissing him with a low sigh. Alan hummed in approval, a hand slipping into Dave’s underwear to squeeze his bum. Dave could probably get hard again in a while or so, but Alan obviously wasn’t having a problem with that now.

Dave broke off the kiss, much to Alan’s obvious displeasure which made him chuckle. “Lie down on the bed,” he told Alan. 

“Why?” 

“I’d like to get my mouth on you, if you don’t mind,” Dave said with a grin. He laughed outright when Alan immediately started shedding his clothes, leaving them in a neat pile before bouncing on top of the mattress, naked and smiling devilishly at Dave.

It was impossible to resist the siren call of a naked Alan in bed. Dave immediately climbed on top of Alan, kissing him deeply like he’d wanted to the whole night - and for a really long time now, if he were being honest with himself. Making out with Alan was completely unlike being with a woman; Alan’s body was firm and unmistakably masculine, from the scattering of hair on his chest down to the strong, muscled legs tangling with Dave’s own. And fuck, the way Alan kissed him, sure and possessive, like he was trying to shove that clever tongue right down Dave’s throat. 

And the biggest reminder that Alan was a man was pressing pointedly against Dave’s hip, leaving a sticky trail of pre-come all over his skin. Alan was already so wet, and he sighed when Dave reached down and brushed his thumb over the head of Alan’s cock, smearing the wetness gathered there. “Fuck, Dave.”

Dave held his gaze as he raised his hand to his mouth, licking Alan off his thumb and watching Alan’s pupils dilate. “You taste good,” Dave whispered, before leaning down and slipping his tongue into Alan’s slack mouth.

When they broke apart for breath, Alan was panting now, high spots of colour in his cheeks. Not so indifferent now, are you? Dave thought smugly, nipping at Alan’s lips. “I want to suck your cock,” Dave told him with a grin, as Alan’s nostrils flared. “But be nice, it’s my first go.”

“I’m always nice,” Alan deadpanned, before they shared a wry glance and dissolved into laughter together. Dave pretended to cuff him on the ear before licking the shell, making Alan shiver as Dave travelled down his body, taking in Alan’s scent of sweat and faded cologne.

However, he had no idea what to do or how to react now that he was finally face to face with Alan’s erection. Alan was slightly longer than him, although Dave was thicker, and the head of his cock had a nice shape. Dave experimentally licked off the fluid on the tip of it, which made Alan almost kick him off the bed. “What the fuck, Al?” Dave demanded, steadying himself on the mattress.

“Sorry, sorry.” Alan seemed torn between watching Dave and flinging his arm over his eyes. “Er, proceed.”

All right, it seemed that Alan was especially sensitive there. Dave made a mental note of it, kissing the tip of Alan’s penis before experimentally wrapping his lips around the head.

Alan was moaning like he’d been drugged, fingers clawed in the bedsheets. Dave was getting a huge thrill of seeing Alan - always so restrained, always so cool - lose his mind like this in bed. And Dave hadn’t even tried to take him in fully yet. Eyeing Alan’s length and gauging it with his hand, he didn’t think he’d be able to fit all of Alan in his mouth. But he could damn well try his best.

Trying to remember all the times he’d gotten blowjobs from various women, Dave loosened his jaw and slid his mouth down a few inches, praying Alan wouldn’t buck him off the bed. He had no idea what he was doing, but Alan was groaning with such approval, eyes shut in utter bliss. Encouraged by Alan’s extremely appreciative reactions, Dave tried to bob his head up and down a bit, supporting himself by planting a hand on Alan’s thigh while the other curled around the shaft a little uncertainly to cover where Dave’s mouth couldn’t quite reach.  

Alan was still leaking pre-come like crazy, enough that Dave had to wipe his mouth with the back of a hand. “Wow, Al.” Dave was a little in awe; he’d imagined all sorts of lurid fantasies with Alan, but no amount of fantasizing on the tour bus could have prepared him for the reality of having Alan laid out in front of him like this, his taste a little salty and bitter on Dave’s tongue.

“Come here,” Alan himself sounded wrecked. Dave quickly crawled up his body, their mouths meeting again in an urgent clash of lips and tongues. They were rutting together messily now, Dave’s almost fully hard erection rubbing against Alan’s stomach while Alan’s cock was bumping against Dave’s hip. Suddenly Alan came with a silent cry as Dave nipped at his jaw, and it took Dave just a few more thrusts in the slickness created by Alan’s semen before he buried his face in Alan’s neck, both of them panting as though they’d just run a race.

Dave was normally really relaxed and a little sleepy after a good orgasm. Fuck, he’d had two now, almost in a row. So he didn’t know why his mind was racing, his heart still hammering in his chest. He was trying to decide whether to risk a glance at Alan's face or not, afraid of what he would find there. What if Alan regretted this? What if this really was just a silly bet they’d taken too far because of alcohol and God knows what else?

“Ooof.” Alan sounded normal enough as he rolled over, nudging Dave in the ribs. “I don’t know about you, but-- I desperately need a shower.”

“Oh.” Dave didn’t know what to say. Was Alan trying to get rid of him? “Should I go back to my room, then?”

“What?” Alan gave him a look that could only be described as the non-verbal equivalent of ‘puh-lease’. “Don’t be silly, there’s plenty of hot water here.” His mouth crooked up in amusement again. “Unless you want the hotel staff to catch you sneaking back in your briefs? Or worse, Mart and Fletch?”

“God, no.” Dave happily got up and followed Alan to the bathroom, deciding not to mention that he had clothes stashed in Alan’s wardrobe. After all, there was no point looking a gift horse in the mouth.

***

Dave woke up before Alan did. They’d forgotten to draw the curtains before passing out in bed last night, and it was already starting to get light outside. Alan had his head buried under the pillow, his towel dried hair sticking up in spikes from underneath. His t-shirt was rucked up so his belly was exposed, and Dave watched the soft rise and fall of his stomach for a while.

The very real panic he’d felt in the alley outside the club came back with a vengeance. Alan was his friend, his male best friend, his bandmate and colleague. It was true, he’d been attracted to Alan for quite a while now, but he’d always resigned himself to letting it simmer below the surface, unwilling to recognise it and give it a name. Then this stupid bet had come along and blown everything out of the water, setting things in motion that Dave didn’t know how to handle. 

He rolled over in bed, adjusting his shorts thoughtfully. Even now, after the wig and the dress and the make-up were gone, he still wanted Alan with a longing that both thrilled and depressed him.

Sitting up, Dave quietly got out and wrote a quick note on the hotel writing pad, letting Alan know he’d gone back to his room first to pack since they were leaving Hamburg right after the gig tonight. It was a valid enough excuse. Whenever one of them had crashed in the other’s room after a drunken night of partying, it wasn’t abnormal to wake up and find the other one gone. Dave had done it to Alan plenty of times before, and vice versa. It was what mates did.

So he didn’t know why he still felt riddled with guilt as he snuck out of Alan’s room and back to his own.

***

Martin and Fletch were already at the hotel restaurant, helping themselves to the breakfast buffet and looking as hungover as Dave felt. Martin was peering at a German newspaper and nibbling on a pastry, while Fletch was diving into some combination of potatoes and sausages with gusto. They nodded when they saw Dave. “How was last night with the record people?” he asked them, taking a seat opposite Fletch.

“Brilliant,” Fletch told him with his mouth full, which made Martin wrinkle his nose. “You and Al missed out.”

“We saw him with some bird, though,” Martin said, failing to notice Dave’s blush as he nudged Fletch with a frown. “It was at-- um, what was that club again?”

“Something with a weird name. Ballsack or wotsit,” Fletch suggested, making Martin let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Baalsaal, yeah.” An amused Martin turned back to Dave. “Where were you? We didn’t see you.”

Dave was thankful for the timely hotel staff who served him a double espresso, so that he could hide his face behind the cup. “Dunno, probably dancing.”

“Al’s date last night was pretty,” Fletch commented, shoving more food into his mouth. 

Martin flipped over to the next page of the newspaper. “Thought you said you couldn’t see her face.”

“Saw a bit. It was her arse that stole the show, though.” Fletch sighed, as Dave almost spat out his espresso. “How does Slick get all the pretty ones?”

“Speaking of whom--” Martin gestured with his chin, the three of them turning to watch Alan crossing the lobby, his video-camera bag hoisted on his shoulder. Dave took advantage of the diversion to clear his throat, downing a glass of water as Alan joined them at the table. He didn’t look at Dave.

“Got lucky last night, did you?” Fletch grinned at him with a wink. “You’re welcome, by the way, for us making ourselves scarce.”

Alan simply seemed amused. “Why are we talking about this?” 

“It’s better than Andy talking about your date’s beautiful arse,” a bored Martin said, flipping to the comics. 

Alan’s lips twitched up slyly. “She did have a fantastic bum.” Now Alan turned to Dave, evil pouring off him in waves. “What did you think, Dave? You met her.”

Dave felt like his face was on fire; he didn’t know whether he wanted to wipe the smirk off Alan’s face with a punch or a kiss. “I think you lot are all cracked,” he said, as the rest chuckled.

“You two had a great night too, then?” Alan said to Mart and Fletch, and Dave really had to admire the smooth way Alan gracefully changed the subject. The other two were now engrossed in telling them about their night out, Alan nodding along as he sipped his cup of tea while Dave poked at a piece of toast. The animated conversation died with the arrival of a cheery Daryl, armed with their hectic schedule for the day. Radio interviews, then a few telly appearances before a rushed soundcheck and a meet-and-greet with some VIPs. Then there was the big show, of course, after which they had to board the bus for West Berlin. Dave already felt tired.

Gobbling up the last of their breakfast and tea, Dave stopped to sign an autograph for the starry-eyed waiter as the rest made their way to the waiting tour bus. It was only when he looked up that he realised Alan was waiting for him at the doorway, a little smile playing about his lips. “Did you hear about my date last night with the great arse?” he said, as Dave caught up with him.

“Wait until you hear about my date, who is a great arse,” Dave muttered, although he admittedly felt relieved as Alan laughed. Maybe things would be normal between them again. (Note: I might stop posting Happiest Girl on Tumblr once it goes up on AO3.)

[hag-lad]

Digging Deeper

Thank you to my radiant wonderful friend @alienfuckeronmain for sending me EXACTLY the type of self indulgent wind-down activity I wanted on this otherwise depressing weekend! If anyone else wants to answer FORTY-NINE QUESTIONS about themselves, I’m super nosy and will read it all! @fight-the-seether @ptolemyofchaos @butchwizard @metalbutch @nyndelion @comrade-ziltoid @leatherdear @kristalknobb Enjoy, friends!

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? I prefer black, but I always feel like I write neater in blue??

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? The city, but only if it has breathable air, green infrastructure, and decent public transit. So like... definitely no city in America lmao

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? The ability to quickly become fluent in another language! I’ve been struggling with Spanish for literal YEARS and it’s honestly pathetic. My brain is so stuck on English.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Look pal. If I wanna drink sugar, I’m gonna have a soda, not herb water or bean juice.

5. What was your favorite book as a child? I was OBSESSED with The Wish List, by Eoin Colfer (of Artemis Fowl fame). I remember being so fascinated by how dark it was?? It’s an afterlife adventure, where the main character has to escape purgatory by atoning for her crimes of robbery and fraud and whatever. I had a crush on her, so basically this book made me want to pursue a life of crime, even though it explicitly condemns crime and depicts Hell as a very real and horrible place. I was in like fourth grade and was super morbidly curious about Hell and the possibility of going there! Lol

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Baths... but only when I’m not actually dirty going in. A bath is leisure, not hygiene.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? 100% fae! I would build my dwelling within a sidhe mound, steal shiny things in the middle of the night, make bastardly little contracts for no reason, and cause harmless mayhem and mischief because mortals really are fools (go off, robin goodfellow!) Also I love mushroom circles and dancing in the moonlight.

8. Paper or electronic books? Paper all the way! I read much more content electronically, but it’s usually in the short story or article format. Books are much better in print, I think.

9. What is your favorite item of clothing? Probably my rust-brown overalls.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I’ve always hated my name but no alternative has ever stuck, unfortunately. My name is Amy, and I don’t think it fits at all. If I knew I’d never have to correct anyone on it, I’d probably just change it to Amelia?

11. Who is a mentor to you? My little brother! He’s this genius musician, and he has taught me so much about song structure, polyrhythms, guitar technique, production tricks, all kinds of trivia that really deepen my appreciation for music and the LABOR that goes into it.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? No, never, not for anything. I cherish my anonimity so much, I don’t even put searchable tags on this blog cuz I get an adrenaline spike from anxiety if too many people interact with me. I also just think fame is a fucking hideous construct. I don’t think it’s even slightly cool or desirable.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? No, I’m a fucking log. I can easily sleep for 12 hours straight. Thanks, depression!

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? No, actually. I’m very much in love, and it brings me lots of joy to do nice things with and for my partner! But romance feels very difficult for me to connect with. I’m super domestic, like, I love the idea of marriage but not necessarily a wedding, or a moonstruck romance or whatever. Those dramatic gestures feel very awkward for me.

15. Which element best represents you? EARTH. Specifically, like... dirt, or soil.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? I want to be geographically closer to my family. We’re thick as thieves, but we all live like 50 miles apart from each other. I miss my brothers and my parents so much, I feel so incomplete and depressed without them to hang out with, especially since quarantine.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? See above! Lol

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. When my little brother was a baby, he had this grey car seat with a folding mechanism which held his legs in place. It made a very satisfying clicking sound when the mechanism moved, AND when it was fully unfolded, it looked a lot like a Klingon battle cruiser. (Or so my five year old brain thought.) So! My older brother and I would take this seat out of the car CONSTANTLY so that we could unfold it and “sing” the Klingon theme music from Star Trek: The Motion Picture while we scooched our car seat battle cruiser across the living room floor, pretending to shoot phasers into the TV or the dining table or whatever else got in our way.

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? Gifilte fish, maybe?

20. What are you most thankful for? My family, including my wonderful partner and all the cats in our lives!

21. Do you like spicy food? Yes! But my tolerance for extreme spice decreases every year, unfortunately. So I can’t handle as much heat as I used to, but I do enjoy a good kick.

22. Have you ever met someone famous? Lmaooo I made the regretful decision to PAY FOR a meet&greet with Fall Out Boy in like 2006, which was so fucking awkward and painful, I vowed to never approach that level of lame again.

23. Do you keep a diary or a journal? TONS! I’m an obsessive record keeper. Some years I journal more than others, and I’ve found that it is super difficult to keep up with it while working full time. But it’s absolutely one of my favorite hobbies.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or pencil? Pen for writing. Pencil for drawing, and math.

25. What is your star sign? Virgo sun, Aquarius moon, Scorpio rising 🙃

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Crunchy! A shallow bath in that milk is key.

27. What would you want your legacy to be? My artwork. I go through these aesthetic phases every year that I become super obsessed with/ focused on, and I’ve always meant to catalogue them in annual art journals, but I’ve NEVER FINISHED ONE! They always get pushed aside by the need to work, and I hate that so much. If I could just take a year off work and backfill all of my missed concepts into completed books, I would be so happy. But I literally have NO WAY to pay for that, absolutely none. I fucking hate capitalism.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love to read, but finishing a whole book has been A STRUGGLE lately! Right now I’m chipping away at Tending Brigid’s Flame, which is a quaint lil devotional for the Celtic fire goddess. Very new agey, like cheesy Wiccan vibes. I love that shit!

29. How do you show someone you love them? Quality time!

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Only if I have a straw. Ice touching my teeth kinda makes me wince.

31. What are you afraid of? Incompetance, doing a bad job, letting someone down, taking up too much space, being a nussiance, etc

32. What is your favourite scent? Incense! Especially cinnamon, dragon’s blood, and amber.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? I always call people, regardless of age, by the name they ask me to use. Sometimes it’s a surname or title, usually it’s a first name. I’ll ask their preference if I’m unsure. But I definitely don’t default toward a surname, that’s weird.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? COMPLETELY DIFFERENTLY!!!!!! The need for money rules literally every single hour of my entire life, and I hate it so much. I’m naturally nocturnal, but my job requires me to get up super early and sit in a car for 11 hours a day. I wake up at 5am, come home front work at 5pm, spend an hour or two trying to unwind, then go to bed and do it all over again. I hate my life! Really! I never see the stars, I never exercise, I am completely exhausted and burnt out all the time, and I barely get any quality time with my partner. If money were no object, I would sleep til noon or 1, make art and hike all day, ride my bike and stargaze all night, stay up til 4am reading and playing with my cats, and sleep like a baby. My partner and I would cook dinner for each other and watch Star Trek and collaborate on art projects and I would be so happy.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Here’s my hierarchy: Private pool > ocean > public pool

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? I’d look around to see if anyone obviously dropped it and try to give it back. If I couldn’t find anyone, I’d exchange it for dollars and deposit that shit into my account!

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Of course!! Hundreds!

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? America is evil and needs to be destroyed.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? Lmao this is so cute. If you HAD TO HAVE a tattoo! I really wanna finish my damn sleeves, they’re literally 9 years in the making and barely half finished. But I’d also love more art on my legs! I DESPERATELY want Ziltoid in a lacy valentine heart on my thigh.

40. What can you hear now? Our fish tank water bubbling and my fan on full blast.

41. Where do you feel the safest? Home alone, doors locked, windows covered, lights low. I absolutely LOVE to not be seen or perceived in any way.

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My fear of discomfort

43. If you could time travel to another era, which one would you choose? I feel like I’d want to be a teen in the 80’s and an adult in the 90’s. Does time travel work that way?

44. What is your most used emoji? 😭 or 😎

45. Describe yourself using one word. Defeated

46. What do you regret the most? Convincing myself that math was too hard or boring (or something?) when I was in middle school. I feel like I’m actually a pretty intelligent person who could’ve totally overcome that difficulty and gone on to understand all kinds of patterns and concepts which have eluded me to this day! It’s so frustrating to try and fight that formative self-concept, which now comes naturally but ultimately sabotages me. 💀

47. Last movie you saw? I made my partner watch Troop Beverly Hills, one of my childhood faves. It’s so fun! I love chick flicks so much.

48. Last tv show you watched? Deep Space Nine. Getting through the first season has been harder than expected. It’s actually my favorite Star Trek show?? (Orrrr maybe that’s TNG, ahh! It’s so hard to choose!) But season one is so baffling and awful! Why is there so much space capitalism??! And racism? And war? And drinking alcoholic beverages? #notmystartrek

49. Invent a word and its meaning. I used to call a single strand of curly hair a “curly quink” when I was a child. Therefore, a “quink” is a section of hair, usually a particularly cute or iconic one.

[girlwiththegreenhat]

For the soft headcanons meme... Perceptor! (or if you want to write, Bumblebee?)

considering i love each of them dearly WHY NOT BOTHS

also considering robots don’t wear clothes or drink human drinks for the sake of fun i will pretend they do

PERCEPTOR 🔬   what they smell like: various chemicals (it changes day to day) and kinda smoky sometimes since things in the science lab have a tendency to,,, not quite work the way they were supposed to. actually no, occasionally an explosion is the desired effect. either way, things explode or catch fire there and the “fried electronics” smell sticks to you after long enough. beware.    what their favorite smells in the world are: the unique smell of antiques, like that of old documents or artifacts. someone got him a candle once that smelled like old books and he adored it. now he’s always got one burning in his room.    what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in: he strikes me as the type who would just wear whatever he wore that day to bed honestly. mood    my favorite friendship and a cute hc about them: only mostly sure i picked this up from another continuity, but perceptor and wheeljack are such a brotp. wheeljack’s a nutjob and perceptor’s sane, they contrast each other nicely and their very different ways of thinking let them come up with some great stuff. they joke that between both of them they know literally everything, and i mean as two of cybertron’s greatest minds they probably do.    a song that reminds me of them: this is actually the last question i answered on this entire meme because i was drawing blanks, but then i was tune surfing on youtube and i actually really think he’d like video killed the radio star. there’s a weird charm to it i think he’d appreciate. my music taste is really weird its hard for me to find songs for characters xD    what animal i think they would be if they were an animal: deer 🦌    what position they sleep in: on his back, he has a hard time sleeping any other way. especially not his alt mode though, god that’s uncomfortable    their favorite drink: sweet tea    a gift i would give them if i could: probs a sick-ass visor like his TFA counterpart, he’s universally second on the list of “bots that absolutely rock eye wear”. that or a paper fan, but like giant-robot sized, because he lowkey seemed to enjoy his so much in that ‘face of nijika’ episode and it was really cute

BUMBLEBEE 🐝    what they smell like: really earthy with some mild ‘vintage (but very loved and cared for) car’ thrown in. he’s a ‘79 beetle which isn’t even old by 1980s standards but the scent persists. that’s just how it bee.    what their favorite smells in the world are:🌻🌺🌼 flowers, fresh air, and the rocky, familiar atmosphere of the ark that still vaguely carries the distinct scent of home after all these years    what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in: the real fuzzy fleece kind, probably in some soft cozy color and complete with really dorky (but cute) fuzzy animal slippers.    my favorite friendship and a cute hc about them: i love spike & bee’s lifelong friendship, like its been twenty+ years between the start and end of the show and they’re still bros. i have mixed feelings about the timeskip that came with the movie and S3 but that’s one of the things that came with it im so glad we got to see. anyway as for a cute headcanon, despite not even being the same species or from the same planet they think of each other as brothers. (amusingly, they each think of the other as the little brother)    a song that reminds me of them: im sorry in advance but. this. always. mostly only the chorus and the happy upbeat tone of the song, though. the association has been there for twelve years and its still the first song i think of when i think “bumblebee” (of any iteration) and “song”.    what animal i think they would be if they were an animal: i know actual bumblebees are insects not animals but i cant not see him as just the fuzziest lil round bee there ever was.    what position they sleep in: either curled up on his side or just straight up in vehicle mode. if he somehow falls asleep not curled up he will, eventually, end up that way. is comfeee. comfee bee.    their favorite drink: rootbeer or vanilla dr. pepper, can’t pick    a gift i would give them if i could: this. not only because its a bee as cute as he is, but also its really big and thus good for a robit his size

[soft headcanons meme]

[nexttrickanvils]

Inked Souls

Written for Day 4 of Ryukita Week: AU

Characters: Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa, mentions of others

Notes: Soulmate AU where there are different types of soulmate markings/connections but in particular focusing on the idea of “Whatever your soulmate writes/draws on their skin appears on yours.”

---------

To be perfectly honest…

Ryuji had mixed feelings about soulmates.

Considering how his mother’s supposed soulmate constantly beat her and him… it was easy to be soured on the whole idea. Guess fate or destiny or whatever didn’t consider a lost job, anger issues, and a lot of booze a problem.

Lucky for ma that she had the kind of Soulmate Mark that was easy to hide (the first words he said to her were wrapped around her wrist like a tattoo.) Ryuji hoped that his would be just as easy to deal with or that he might be one of those who didn’t have a soulmate and thus no mark.

Unfortunately, it looked like the universe wasn’t done laughing at Ryuji Sakamoto. He was in his third year of middle school when he woke up one morning and found himself covered in colored splotches that didn’t wash off.

He remembers panicking and thinking he got some weird disease. Even though his mom assured him that he was fine, she was still willing to take him to the doctor. It was there that Ryuji was told that this was his Soulmate Mark.

Well not so much a mark as some kinda weird connection type of thing. Apparently if he put something like ink or paint on his skin, it would show up on his soulmate’s and vice versa.

So as far as he was aware of, his soulmate painted and they were apparently a slob.

Great.

This changed nothing. This was gonna be harder to hide and ignore than Ryuji expected but he still had no interest in this soulmate stuff.

---------

That lasted for about a month.

It’s not like he completely changed his mind or had some big revelation. He just got tired of constantly seeing paint splotches on himself. Ryuji grabbed the nearest marker and wrote on his arm.

“CLEAN YOURSELF UP!”

Ryuji was just annoyed and all the colors were distracting him from his homework… he wasn’t expecting a response.

“Who are you?”

He stared at the neat handwriting under his own sloppy writing. Are they serious? Ryuji remembers the doctor saying that this form of soul mark didn’t pop up often but most folks knew about it ‘cept Ryuji himself apparently .

So they should know who he is… unless they’re asking for his name? No way was Ryuji giving this paint covered weirdo his name. So he ignored it.

That is until more writing appeared on his arm.

“Did I do something to offend?”

Did they… really not know? Ryuji still didn’t feel comfortable giving this person his name but it wouldn’t hurt to respond right?

“I’m your soulmate, dummy. Now wash off the paint, I can’t do my homework with my arm looking like a rainbow.”

There wasn’t another response but it wasn’t long before the paint and writings came off. Ryuji quickly went to the bathroom to wash off his writing.

Months went by.

After their little “chat” Ryuji found himself getting curious about the person he was connected to. He still wasn’t ready to share everything (and for all he knew they were never gonna meet in person) but a message here and there wasn’t gonna hurt right?

It was mostly small little things like reminding them to wash off the paint or asking how their day was.

Sometimes there was a response and it was very formal (Ryuji wondered why destiny seemed to think he’d be good with someone who sounded like a grandpa) and sometimes there was no response.

Sometimes instead of paint splotches, there were doodles. Well maybe “doodles” wasn’t the right word. The pictures that would appear on Ryuji’s skin were elegant and full of detail. He didn’t know much about art but he knew pretty when he saw it.

Which was more than he could say for the dragon he decided to draw one day. He’s not entirely sure what he was thinking when he grabbed his usual marker and started drawing on his arm.

It was… it was bad. The thing looked like it had googly eyes, there were weird random spikes, he’s not entirely sure what happened with the claws, and so many other problems.

Ryuji couldn’t help but find an ink free spot on his arm and wrote: “Sorry this sucks.”

After a couple minutes with no response, Ryuji scrubbed off the drawing and message. But as he finished, new dark lines started to appear. He sat down and watched as the lines twisted and turned and connected.

Before long, they started to take shape and Ryuji’s eyes widened as he realized it was a dragon. But not just any dragon: his dragon. He recognized the random spikes though here they came off a lot more natural.

When it was finished, Ryuji was amazed. It looked awesome, he could almost see it as a badass tattoo. He almost didn’t notice the writing appearing on his other arm.

“Even though you felt disappointed with it, I rather enjoyed your art. I thank you for sharing it with me and hope you do not mind my own take on it.”

Ryuji read the message over and over… maybe… maybe having a soulmate wouldn’t be so bad… maybe they could make it work.

But after that… the messages and art came less and less. One day he was watching a drawing on his arm but then it stopped and the ink or paint or whatever they used became smeared until it was washed off. The drawings stopped after that.

Then came Ryuji’s first year at Shujin, Kamoshida, and the worst day of Ryuji’s life.

He thought of “talking” to his soulmate as he recovered in the hospital. But no. Besides, they hadn’t “talked” to him in a while, maybe they realized what a screw up he was. He certainly wouldn’t have blamed them.

---------

By the time his second year started, Ryuji pushed any thoughts about his soulmate out of his head. He had more important things to deal with.

Like meeting Akira, stumbling into the Metaverse, finding MonaMona the weird cat thing, and everything else.

With all of that going on; the only time Ryuji thought of his soulmate was when he, Akira, and Ann compared their “marks” during the group’s victory celebration. He couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing and if they were okay.

He didn’t expect that he’d get an answer very soon.

---------

Ryuji glared at the blue haired boy standing in front of Ann. She did not need this shit, especially so soon after dealing with Kamoshida.

“You’re the woman I’ve been searching for all this time! Please won’t you-”

“Wait a minute, I-”

“-Be the model for my next art piece!?”

The other boy dramatically raised his arm and that was when Ryuji noticed something. Peeking out from his sleeve was writing on his wrist. It was hard to see all of what was written but it looked familiar. Then Ryuji caught a mention of rice and miso and he suddenly remembered the shopping reminder he wrote on his own wrist this morning.

No way… there was no way… but it made sense… this guy was apparently an artist and there was the way he talked…

So what was the right way to say “Hey I know you’re obsessing over my friend right now but I think we might be soulmates?”

Obviously not that.

Before Ryuji could think of anything else, the other boy (he said his name was Yusuke right?) gave Ann tickets to an art show and went back into the black car with the old man.

Ain’t that just Ryuji’s typical luck? He finds his soulmate and they’re more interested in one of his friends. No… Ryuji wasn’t jealous. He’s just… just…

---------

The following days were not easy. Ryuji found himself having those old angry feelings about the idea of soulmates. Yusuke didn’t seem so bad when they wrote and doodled on each others’ arms… but on the other hand, “Dear Ol’ Dad” didn’t start out a constantly drunk piece of shit.

But on the other other hand, Ryuji couldn’t help but see a bit of himself and his mom in Yusuke. Making excuses for Madarame; assuring people that everything was perfectly fine and there was no abuse here, no siree.

Late one night, Ryuji grabbed a pen (the marker he usually used had long since dried up and been thrown away) and wrote on his arm.

“You don’t have to hide. You can trust me.”

Ryuji looked the message and scratched out the “me” and replaced it with “us.”

There was no response before Ryuji had to wash off the message.

---------

A couple days later, the team launched their plan to change Madarame’s cognition and get that big ass door open in the palace.

Ryuji isn’t sure how long it took and he couldn’t help but worry about Ann (and yeah sure Mona too) but the door did open and he and Akira were able to shut off the security shit. Now all they had to do was wait for Ann and Mon…

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

He and Akira looked up and were greeted with the sight of Ann, Mona, and... YUSUKE!?

Okay Yusuke was here… wasn’t the first time they had someone with no persona powers along for the ride. They just gotta get out. They can deal with this…

Then Madarame’s Shadow showed up.

Everything went by so quickly. Madarame’s taunting, Yusuke realizing everything he knew was a lie, his awakening, the fight, and the five of them sitting down and talking.

As Yusuke talked about how he ignored the truth because Madarame was like a father to him, Ryuji… couldn’t help but feel that maybe Destiny or the Universe or whatever was actually onto something here.

But he still didn’t feel comfortable telling Yusuke. They’d only just now started to get along after all, it would be too much.

So for now, Yusuke, or rather, Fox just was the newest member of the Phantom Thieves.

---------

Yusuke was… weird. There were times where he’d get super emotional about something that wasn’t a big deal and the reverse where he’d take weird shit in stride (his lack of a reaction to Mona talking comes to mind.)

But… at the same time… maybe it’s because Ryuji’s seen so much bitterness in his life but there was something to the joy and excitement Yusuke showed when he was interested in something.

Sure he had like NO filter but considering what they’ve all seen of Madarame both in the real world and the Metaverse; Ryuji doesn’t blame Yusuke for not really knowing how to talk to people.

Yusuke was weird yeah but… Ryuji still wanted to know him better.

---------

It took about a week (Ryuji never wanted to see the Sayuri painting ever again) but the group finally reached the treasure and all that was left was getting the Calling Card ready.

Ryuji volunteered to write it again and have Yusuke punch it up a bit. The two decided on work on it in the diner. Maybe not the best idea to do it in public but they went to different schools, definitely couldn’t do it at the shack, and even though ma would be at work tonight, it would feel awkward to bring Yusuke to his apartment. So this was the best option (plus it got Yusuke fed.)

It took them about an hour and half between Yusuke drawing a new logo (“Yours is… done well enough though perhaps not suited for our purposes”,) the two figuring out what to write (“When I did the one for Kamoshida, I called him the “Utter Bastard of Lust.”” “Hm… if we continue the theme of the Seven Deadly Sins, I feel Madarame would be more “a sinner of vanity””,) and actually getting something to eat.

Ryuji was pretty damn proud of what they made.

But… there was still one more thing he needed to do…

After fighting side by side with the guy, Ryuji figured that he can trust him.

“Hey Yusuke...”

“Hm?”

Come on Ryuji. Now or never. How’d that phrase go? Don’t think, feel.

“There’s something ya need to see.”

Ryuji shrugged off his school jacket and pulled out a new marker from his pant pocket.

“Ryuji what are you...”

Before Yusuke could finish asking or before Ryuji decided to change his mind, he started to draw on his arm. It had been a long while and it ain’t like his art skills actually improved but he had a decent memory, hopefully Yusuke’s is a lot better.

Yusuke watched as Ryuji continued his drawing (he couldn’t help but wonder if he watched with the same intensity the first time.) Before long, Ryuji started to add in the details and that was when he noticed Yusuke’s eyes widen. The blue haired artist quickly pushing his sleeve up.

Just as expected, the dragon was on his arm and the details appeared as Ryuji continued.

Honestly Ryuji could stop right there but he felt that he needed to finish. The two sat in silence until Ryuji finally capped the marker and looked at Yusuke.

“...How long had you known that we were connected…?”

“Since we first met. I saw my handwriting on your wrist when you were being all dramatic and swinging your arm around. You didn’t really… I mean… I guess it didn’t really feel like the right time ya know?”

“I will admit that my behavior toward you all in the beginning was less than acceptable. Nevertheless...”

Yusuke smiles as he traces the copy of the dragon drawing on his arm.

“...I rather missed this...”

“Yeah… me too… Maybe… maybe after we change Madarame’s heart...”

Ryuji took a deep breath as his face turned red.

“M-maybe we could uh… just… hang out, get to know each other better. Ya know, do something other than writing and doodling on our arms.”

“...I would like that.”

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep4: How to Go on a Date Without Actually Going on a Date

Ah, summertime! Love is in the air, can’t you feel it?

Well uh...thunderclouds. I guess. It’s ominously pouring rain. It’s as if the show has turned in it’s squeaky swivel chair said to us “look, we’re giving you a date episode...but don’t you be gettin’ any ideas!” and then swiveled right back around to face a blank wall.

I’m sure that they will put in some sort of cute backdrop...eventually.

While mopping the gross purple floor and talking about Joey’s nuts soap opera family.

Y’all did they get reference for this shot? I sure hope so. I sure hope that in some animation studio in Japan, two dudes fumbled together to assemble this particular formation, and then a third dude was like “Perrrrfect, now can you hold that for five minutes for me so I can draw it out?”

(read more under the cut)

So here and now, suddenly inspired by the very romantic tableau of threatening rain and thunder, Yugi sees an opportunity to fill out that bucket list, as it is the end of the world and all. So, he cracks his knuckles, remembers the advice from his Grandfather, wisely decides to forget that advice, and stumbles through the absolute weirdest way to officially ask out the girl you’ve been unofficially dating since you were like 10:

...

Start over.

So...he goes up to Tea...starts asking her out--but then makes it into a blind date with the ghost in his body? Because he’s...concerned about Pharaoh?

OK kid.

It’s just very Muto in that not only does he ask this girl out in the pouring rain, probably hoping for a lightning cue that thankfully never came, but this date can only be done through the medium of a very sad dead guy.

And even Tea wonders “I talk to Pharaoh kind of a lot, what the hell are you going on about?”

But what do you do, girl? Looks like you got stuck on a date trap with a dead dude! At least he has the better butt!

Now, you might say “Rach, he didn’t use the word “date” so this isn’t a date.” but y’all must’ve had a very different high school experience than I, because, unless forced to go to a socially obligatory dance, High Schoolers generally never say “lets go on a date,” they make sneaky date traps.

This is universal, the classic “I REALLY need your help with something I can easily accomplish myself. Meet me at the mall, although we could do this probably right now at school. Don’t bring Joey.”

So, Yugi either has a lot of trust in Pharaoh, or he’s seeing this as a clever way to avoid the actual dating part of dating Tea.

Dude...he’s on to something here. This is an ascended level of friend-zoning. Here I was thinking Yugi was pretty worthless with that puzzle, and then he just BAM unlocks it’s actual, true potential with the ultimate dating dodge. Like, Tea can’t even be mad. He’s on the date even. But also--*not on the date*--gets to enjoy the fun stupid stuff-- *doesn’t have to do any boring stuff*--Goes on a date--*but can’t call it a relationship if it wasn’t hypothetically with yourself* like this actually a pretty great set up and at first I was like wow, what an idiot, and now I’m like 5 paragraphs later and low key jealous I can’t do this Schrödinger's Date nonsense myself.

Anyway, despite how awkward he made it, Yugi is SUPER excited about this date. It’s ALMOST as if he’s going on it himself--which again, he is not. He’s just fretting in a mirror going all “Pharaoh’s gonna freakin love this. I love setting up my friends! Especially when they share the same body as me! Hahaha don’t think about it!”

But apparently Pharaoh was totally sleeping when Yugi was talking to Tea (and probably is whenever Tea shows up, lets be real) because he has no idea that Yugi has done this.

First off--Yugi’s art on the wall.

Ok, glad we all saw it together.

Second off, I love the motif of “kid is going on a date, so he throws everything he owns onto his bed and throws on the other half his closet to make the most ridiculous joke combo” because here it means Pharaoh has to wear the same weird ass outfit.

Y’all I cannot believe this anime is doing this three-way I just cannot. It’s been like a full season building up to it but it still feels VERY sudden.

And, as you know, I have a superpower that makes me immune to shipping, I dunno...maybe it’s because I grew up with the nuts Harry Potter era of ships (freakin Snape/Lily)? Or maybe that I come from the era of Kingdom Hearts-style romance twists (whooo will he eat ice cream with)? I feel like I can’t throw too many rocks at this ship because I know when my house is glass. Especially since I enjoy shows that are bonkers, I’ve seen some weird ass dating stuff that didn’t make me bat an eyelash. I watched Season 2 of Seaquest where at least 2 people accidentally ask out their own Mother. I would double check, but it was so awful Netflix pulled it (or trust me I’d be recapping that show, too)

Personally, I have never wanted to date a ghost but I guarantee other people have thought about it. And, youknow, if it’ll make the 2002-era tweens that were super excited about this ship happy, lets get these kids on a date and get this over with. With the Pharaoh that died at hell knows what age, was reborn so hypothetically you could also argue he’s only like a couple years old, and was mind wiping up until basically a couple weeks ago. Whatever, it’s a new season, he’s a new boy, just, don’t think about it, sit back and enjoy it for what it -- HOLY CRAP

What fake-goth funeral date are you going to here!? Wow. This is...This is a bad choice of clothes! It’s the middle of the day! Other people are in shorts. He is wearing so many chains from his neck, to his bracelets...also he still has that massive bike lock chain on - the one that went through a FIRE.

And does his shoes have freakin studs?

At least neck belt is still here.

I’d say he doubles as a stage tech but with those 7 bangles he’s got on, he would make too much noise. He’d sound like a freakin wind chime.

Anyways, Yugi switches places and Pharaoh freaks the Hell out like he’s been pranked. I wish it were a prank, y’all, I wish it were. But this is actually happening on this television show where the only other legit romance we saw was Pegasus macking a ghost.

MAN ghosts gets a lot of action in this show.

Now, this anime gets a lot of flack, but it does do one thing, and that’s make me appreciate something I forget a lot of the time when I see character designs in pictures rather than in motion. And it’s that that character design’s aesthetic includes physics. Sometimes--like very often in Yugioh--the aesthetic is mostly about those physics and what all these separate pieces do when they move.

In Yugioh, the designs are a hot mess. I can’t say they aren’t. But, there is a reason why he has all those moving bangles--it’s because he holds cards a lot and that’s where is camera is. I guarantee, when jacket comes back it’ll be flowing in the wind 100% of the time. Every single one of Yugi’s weird bangs can sway around like a weather vane.

So, while this looks not great from the get go, by the time you’ve watched Yugioh for a while, it all comes back together somehow. That’s the thing--that’s what Yugioh proves, it’s that no matter how freakin weird and abstract your design is, if it has the right physics, you’ll have a good time, and that’s an aesthetic all in itself that can’t be described in photo caps.

BUT

but

but, it’s still hella fun to roast Yugi for it because like--look what he’s wearing.

First stop on their date: a diner of lies that gave us no anime food. Just some nondescript milkshake. Every time we see a diner and I don’t get to see anime food my heart shrivels a little smaller like the Grinch.

Yo I assumed the neck belt was attached to the belt-shirt before--but I guess not. Oh man was belt shirt a turtleneck the whole time??? A belt TURTLENECK?

Tea decides to pull out her idea. The idea that Yugi asked her to give Pharaoh--that she could have just...given...straight to Yugi...but here it is. Here’s the big Tea idea.

Tea suggests “Listen, you don’t know who you’re going to be, but that’s true of everyone” which kind of ignores destiny and prophecies and the end of the world, but she’s gonna be a dancer, OK? And because Pharaoh hasn’t seen very much of the world, and is as impressionable as a newborn lamb, he just soaks it right up.

And so they decide not to go to the Museum because Pharaoh’s not feeling it. Probably also has a sixth sense that the museum is currently staffed by the most boring Millennium Item.

FYI this is exactly what my local Dave & Busters looks like floor to ceiling. It’s a real disappointment. It has only 1 DDR machine and one off brand DDR machine, unlike this place.

Yugioh has more diversity than most Anime I’ve seen, but it’s still a work in progress. Also, it’s hard to spot but keep an eye out for this guy’s fringe moccasins.

...Someone brought their briefcase to the arcade? Wh...why?

This whole episode is a whole lot of why.

WHAT?

Everyone just kinda watched this go down?

Again, I’ve never actually played DDR at an arcade because it’s always taken by two sweaty high schoolers who are sweating like ALL OVER the handlebars, and I’m just like...I could ask them to move or...I could not touch their sweat? So, long story short, if DDR involves elbowing each other in the face, this is news to me, and I have been missing out.

Long story short, she wins. We actually get to see Tea use her one and only useful skill--dance fighting. We’ll probably never see it again. Glad they gave us a very long narcissistic Tea dancing montage while they were there. Wish it was done to ska, but you can’t have everything.

And right when this settles into a romantic sunset I start to worry because we’re getting VERY close to a non-vague situation. The show senses this too and just, out of no where, pulls any distraction to get them away from said sunset.

Y’all how do you even manage to draw a spike mullet with dreads?

And here we all thought we’d get through this episode without cards!

JK, you were absolutely right for thinking that.

In her defense, he did try to elbow jab her in the head.

Anyways, after seeing Tea tear through Johnny Steps, Pharaoh feels like maybe he can handle whatever crazy thing happened to him 5000 years ago. He decides “Lets go recklessly open that Pandora’s box!”

I just noticed his second belt has a fanny pack on the butt for his cards.

Well, that was...still vague somehow. Good. Got me worried there for a second.

Next week, on Yugioh:

Bets on how long it takes for the show to never mention this date again and immediately forget these two were an item, I’m betting at the very beginning of the next episode? Are we going to get the same exposition but for the second time--will I even have anything to recap? In the dark is Yugi just a pair of swinging arms?

[merigreenleaf]

AU Tuesday - “Stuck With You” Part 9

(For AU Tuesday I’m writing a multi-part story about all five of my main characters using the prompt: “A [platonic] soulmate AU where you have a black stain where your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time and it turns to millions of colors once they do.” The events are all [or mostly] canon to the series; the only real change are the soul-marks. These can really be read in any order because each part pretty much stands on its own. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 10.)

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

Sol shoved the pile of half-finished toothpick sculptures aside until there was a big, empty space on his worktable perfect for his Plan. It was a great plan. He fixed performers’ props all the time and there was no way he could mess this up. There was only one problem: he didn’t have the prop yet. It wouldn’t be a secret anymore if he went and got it because everyone would wonder what he was doing in Blythe’s house. Well, Blythe’s and Dray’s and Adair’s house, since they both lived in her wagon now, too. Every day Sol asked Adair to move in with him because that would be like a sleepover all the time, but Adair kept saying no, saying that Blythe’s wagon had a bigger pantry and space for the easel she’d bought him. It wasn’t fair, Sol should rank above food and art supplies. Maybe if he built a really smarfy thing that was part bed, part studio, part kitchen, Adair would move in.

Adair! That was the perfect way to get the prop! Adair could pretend to grab his paint or something, then sneak out with it when he left. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he lived over there.

“Hey, buddy? Do you know where Dray keeps their props? Can you get me their staff?”

A few feet away Adair was doing his best oversized magpie impression in the very well-enforced nest that was Sol’s bed. Much like Sol had done to the desk, Adair had pushed Sol’s collection of metallic odds and ends and broken pieces of appliances to the side. Sol craned his neck to see what he was drawing in his sketchbook, but Adair closed it and set it on top of the nest-pile before he could get a good look. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

Sol tugged the sculpture of Adair’s cat free from his arm and put the lid on the glue jar before grinning at Adair. “I’m gonna fix it up for them. Dray’s gonna love it!”

Adair shrugged and headed out the door while Sol went into planning mode. The staff had looked a little dingy and scratched up when Dray danced with it last night. That would have been almost acceptable for a tinkerer like Sol-- until he saw the struggle Dray had separating the pieces to take it apart. It was then that Sol had his brilliant Plan. He’d take Dray’s beat up old staff and fix it up so that it was like new. Better than new! He wasn’t the carnival troupe’s resident inventor for nothing!

Plus Dray seemed so gloomy and sad that Sol wanted to do something to cheer them up. He’d wanted to meet Blythe’s sibling ever since he learned she had one because Sol’s own sibling was great so that must mean that Blythe’s was, too. And then he met Dray. Maybe Dray was great, somewhere under all the cynicism and frowns, but they kept to themself and didn’t really talk to Sol or anyone. Okay, Etri was like that, too, but that was just because he was shy and Blythe had never said anything about Dray being shy. What Dray needed was something to make them feel welcome and Sol knew he was the one who could do it, especially with Adair here to help.

How had he gotten by before Adair sleepwalked into the carnival? Adair didn’t mind holding down things Sol was hammering or grabbing stuff Sol forgot to have ready or taking emergency midnight trips into the city with him to dive through dumpsters. Sometimes his drawings even gave Sol ideas. And since Adair wasn’t here to use it right now, now would be the perfect time to go through his sketchbook! Sol flopped onto the bed and grabbed the book. For a moment the nest teetered, but when only a few pieces of scrap metal clattered to the floor, Sol made himself comfortable and started flipping through the pages. A sketch of a bullfrog, this one probably won’t be helpful… detailed study of a paintbrush tip, no, not this one either… a rough drawing of Dray dancing? Maybe this one would be…

A red sequined bag dropped into his lap. “Is this the right one? Dray’s got a ton of prop bags and they all look the same.”

Maybe if he combined this drawing of a bullfrog with that old cuckoo clock he found, he could make something that croaked the hour. “Huh?”

Adair took the sketchbook from his hands and replaced it with the strap of the bag. “Remember? You asked me to get the staff so you could fix it. Is this the right one?”

“That’s right! Dray’s surprise!” Sol jumped off the bed too fast and stumbled as he slung the strap over his shoulder. The bag swung around and smacked Adair in the head. No wonder Blythe always said he needed to slow down before he hurt himself. Hurting Adair was worse than hurting himself! Adair was his important. He felt for a bump on Adair’s head and didn’t feel anything. Was that a good sign? Would there be a bump already? Sol hurt himself on a daily basis but he wasn’t really sure how Blythe figured out when he needed to be healed and when he needed to be shooed out the door. “Sorry! Does it hurt? Do you need to go to Blade? She always tells me to watch where I’m going and she’s probably right-”

Adair ducked down and out of his reach. “I’m fine. But are you sure you should do this without asking?”

Sol blinked at him. “Hit you in the head?”

“No. I mean, yeah, don’t do that, but I meant fix Dray’s prop without asking. Dray’s really… enthusiastic about their props. I swear they were baby talking to their fire swords this morning. It was kind of weird.”

Sol peeked inside the bag. Adair had picked right despite his constant confusion about props. He called pretty much everything vaguely rod-shaped a baton. In Adair’s defense, all of his paintbrushes looked the same to Sol, and he had yet to hand Adair the right one he asked for. Maybe if he used Adair’s paint to color-code them all… Right, Adair had said something about carnies being weird. “Weird? Oh, with props. All carnies are like that. Etri’s favorite knife is named Pokey. Well, when I say it’s named, I mean I call it that, he doesn’t, but I bet if I do it long enough he’ll pick up on it. It worked with Blythe’s boots Kicky and Kicko.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay to fix it without asking?”

Adair trailed after him and sat on the step stool while Sol took the three pieces of the staff out of the bag. The stool was there so Adair could reach the table built for Sol’s height, but Adair was iffy about using it. Sometimes it was fine, sometimes his fear of heights was too much and Sol had to work on the floor with him instead. That was okay. Having a friend to help was worth way more than a table that was usually covered in last week’s Big Plan anyway.

“I’m not gonna hurt it, just make it better. Like Blade does when we get hurt.”

“But that’s different.”

Sol eyed the staff before connecting and unconnecting two of the parts. They did drag each time instead of sliding silently together and the catch was funny. It was a wonder Dray had put up with this because Sol would have gotten it fixed a long time ago. If he sanded it down and then soldered on a different connector, it should come together much smoother. “It’s not different. She’s a healer to broken people, I’m a healer to broken things. We both fix things. The difference is, she can’t make broken people shoot spikes or ignite with the push of a button, and I can! I mean things, not people. I can’t make people shoot spikes. But things like this staff – Ooh! Maybe I can make the staff ignite! And shoot spikes! And then ignite the spikes! And then-”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense. You go do that and I’ll… umm… be over here.” Adair retreated to his nest, which Sol thought was a little silly because it wasn’t like he’d added the spikes yet. Maybe if Adair sat there long enough, though, one of Sol’s piles of scrap would hatch into a little trash vulture or something. Sol could train it to pick through junk heaps, and perch on his shoulder, and say important words like “hello” and “smarfy” and “look out, Blythe’s coming.” 

But first the staff. No sooner had Sol pushed the third piece into place when a voice that wasn’t Adair’s rang across the wagon, “You thief!”

The staff dropped to the table with a clatter. Sol glanced over his shoulder and, not seeing anyone there, lifted his arm to see in the blind spot caused by his biceps. There Dray stood with their hands on their hips, wearing a scowl so much like Blythe’s that Sol wanted to hide despite Dray being half his size. “Wh-where?”

Unlike Blythe, Dray’s furious expression and hands-on-hips didn’t turn into foot-tapping or counting. Sol hated when Blythe counted at him. It make him lose track of his thoughts every time and that meant never knowing what it was she wanted him to stop doing. Dray glared up from the level of Sol’s elbow. “I’m looking at him. You took it.”

Dray wasn’t all that scary, really, not after knowing Blythe for so long. If all they were going to do was stand there and accuse Sol of… something… without even throwing numbers at him, Sol was going to get back to work. He picked up the staff again and ran his thumb over the second connector. “I took what?”

“That! That right there!”

“This?” Sol looked at the staff, then back at Dray. It turned out he didn’t need counting to lose track of what they were arguing about. Huh, you learn something new every day. “What about this?”

“That!” Dray took their hands from their hips so that they could gesture at the staff. “You took that!”

“I took this?”

“Yes! You took my staff!”

Oh! Now Sol remembered why Dray was here. It was Dray’s staff that he was going to make shoot flaming spikes. He grinned at Dray and nodded. “Yeah! Yeah, I took your staff.”

There was a brief pause between them, then Dray cleared their throat. “Well? Can I have it back now?”

“You mean the staff?” Sol pointed at the staff with the hand that wasn’t holding it. He wanted to be clear that Dray wasn’t talking about something else.

“Of course I mean the staff!” Dray gestured wildly toward the ceiling now. “What else have I been asking about since I came in here?”

“But I’m not done with it yet. I have to be a healer to it because it’s a broken thing and I fix broken things.”

“There’s nothing broken about my staff.”

Dray lunged for it and Sol reflexively lifted it up above his head. His knuckles scraped the ceiling and it hurt a little, but he knew Dray wouldn’t be able to reach it. If Dray would stop yelling, Sol could have had this done five minutes ago. Maybe not the spikes yet, that might take a while, but the fixing part would be finished. “Yes there is! I have to sand it down and solder on a new catch so it slides together better--”

“Give. Me. My. Staff.”

“--And it doesn’t shoot spikes or light them on fire yet--”

“It’s not supposed to do that, you goon!” Dray hopped onto the step stool and reached for the staff, their fingertips falling short yet close enough that Sol feared they'd be able to grab it if they jumped.

Sol needed to make Dray understand. It was a present to make them happy and now they were just about the opposite of happy. Or was sad the opposite of happy? Dray wasn't sad anymore, and that was what Sol had been going for, but angry wasn't what he wanted either. “But it was going to! It was going to be a surprise and now I told you and it’s not a surprise anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘surprise’?” Dray planted their foot on Sol’s shin and grabbed onto one of his shoulders. Within seconds they had clambered up Sol’s torso.

“I’m fixing your staff. …Surprise!” Despite Dray’s display of human parkour, Sol was having fun. Hey, maybe Dray would want to start an acrobatic act with him. Now that Etri was going to be Adair’s sentinel, he probably wouldn’t be performing much and Sol was going to need a new partner.

“It. Doesn’t. Need. Fixed.” Dray hoisted their way up past his shoulders until they sat astride the back of his neck. Sol waved the staff around, wondering how well Dray could keep their balance. He was pretty sure they were holding on entirely with their knees.

The door to the wagon swung open followed by a voice Sol knew all too well. “Freeze, you two!”

Sol spun so that both of them were facing the shadows standing in the doorway and he was pleased when Dray didn’t even totter. Maybe this could work! He’d have to ask Etri about his future plans and if he’d mind Sol taking on a new partner. He’d have to ask Dray, too, of course, but maybe they--

That was when he realized Blythe was still addressing them in what Sol thought of her “stop-screwing-around” voice. He had no choice but to hand Dray the staff, which they snatched with a gleeful cackle, so he could pluck them from his shoulders and set them on the floor. Adair stood next to Blythe and it took Sol a worried minute to realize he was turning red because he was trying not to laugh. What was so funny?

“Well, I’d say that’s unexpected, but I should have seen it coming when I heard you two bickering. Dray, do you always activate marks by getting into fights?”

What was she talking about? Sol glanced down at Dray to see if they had any idea. Dray must have taken his attention the wrong way because they glared and swung the staff behind their back to put it out of reach.

Adair had returned to his normal shade of brown when he nudged Blythe’s arm. “Can I tell them both? Please? Pretty please?”

Blythe sighed and covered her eyes with her hand. “This is going to be a bad pun again, isn’t it? Every time you ask, it’s always a bad pun.”

“There’s no such thing as a bad pun.” Adair gestured with both hands at Sol and Dray. “I guess this means they’re sole-mates.”

“I knew it. That’s the same dumb pun you’ve been making since you met Sol.”

“No, it’s not! The other was about Sol. This one’s completely different. I mean, it does make them sole-mate Sol-mate soulmates, but it’s a completely different joke.”

“Oh no,” Dray muttered under their breath.

Sol just stared at Adair. If he waited long enough, maybe Adair would stop saying his name and explain what was going on. To his relief Adair came over and poked him in the side, but his words weren’t any more helpful. “You two must have got off on the wrong foot, huh?”

Blythe and Dray groaned in tandem. Why was Adair talking so much about feet?

“You’re going to be together through thick and shin now, I’ll bet.”

Huh?

Dray held out a hand as though to keep Adair at a distance. “Enough is enough. Sol, he means look at your leg, you doof.”

Finally someone was making sense. Sol did as he was told. The long black soulmark on the front of his leg had changed into the same rainbow of the other marks on his body. He’d always thought the mark looked a little like a footprint and… that was why Adair kept making all the feet comments! Dray’s matching mark to his must be on the bottom of their foot, like Etri and Blythe’s were on their hands and Adair’s was on his back. Maybe Dray would want to share an act with him because they were destined to be important to each other. He let out a whoop and picked Dray up in a bear hug to spin them around. This was great! Now he knew who all of his importants were!

Dray’s only reaction to this was to sigh when Sol put them back on the ground and to tug the wrinkles from their shirt. “I guess it could be worse. Pun-boy over there could be one of my soulmates.”

Adair stuck his tongue out, which Dray ignored.

“Now that I know I’m stuck with you and you weren’t going to steal it, I suppose I can let you have this.” Dray held out the staff only to snatch it back when Sol went to take it. “Under one condition. You only fix it up so it works better. No spikes and absolutely no flaming spikes.”

“Can I at least make the wicks self-ignite when you push the button? I really want to make it have a button that does something smarfy.”

Dray hesitated, but handed it over. “I’m going to regret this. I know I’m going to regret this. Just be careful with it.”

There was no doubt about it. Sol had the best importants! He met Adair’s eyes and didn’t have to say a word. Adair knew exactly what he wanted. “I’ll go move the rest of the toothpicks off the table.”

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

(My husband gets co-writer credit this week because he helped me out with writing that argument and then acted it out for me. He’s a goofball! Anyway, I have two chapters left in this story and next week it’s a Dray POV. :)  As always, if you want to be taken off the list of people I tag when I share stories, let me know. If you want to be added to the list, also let me know. And please definitely do tag me when you share stories and excerpts and things, too! @ageekyreader  @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @firewritten @joshuaorrizonte @writtenhastily @writerlydays @ava-burton-writing @josephmxa @megan-cutler @dragonscanbeplantstoo @alittle-writer @perringwrites @an-author-in-progress @aceduchessdragoness @madmooninc @thatwriternamedvolk @elliot-orion @wchwriter @lady-redshield-writes @shadow-maker @zachdoesawriting @blogherosix @reeseweston @bluemartlet @pen-for-sword  @writer-on-time )

[rottenappleheart]

mm liveblog part 2

majora’s mask, unfiltered notes for the entire first 3-day cycle until you get the ocarina back and are no longer a slave to the passage of time

DAWN OF

THE FIRST DAY

72 HOURS REMAIN

tatl's thesis - that we should ask the great fairy for help, because the skull kid is no match for the great fairy - is deeply flawed. i have met great fairies. do you know what they don't do? help much.

that said i now like the idea of the skull kid being periodically taken to task by various great fairies

"sit down and tell me what you did this time"

"i made  you a sandwich"

"are you sorry"

i know it's meant to be irritating but i love that the guards will stop both deku link and normal link (until they see he's armed, and also looks like he hasn't slept in seven years) from exiting. becasue they are doing their job and keeping the population safe. and that means not letting children wander around alone.

I LOVE CLOCK TOWN OKAY

I TALK TO EVERYONE ABOUT THEIR LIVES AND I READ ALL THE POSTERS FOR THE LOCAL BANDS AND THE GUARD RECRUITMENTS AND I WATCH THAT ODD MASKED PERSON PICK UP THEIR MAIL AND I TRY TO BEFRIEND THE LOCAL STRAY DOGS AND IT IS JUST SO GOOD

the grown deku scrub who promised his wife a moon's tear, i just have to ask: is that a thing that normally happens? does the moon always just... cry onto the surface of the planet? what???

i love their banners and streamers and their happy music and their busy bustling lives and it's so good

what the fuck kind of ink does the banker use that remains indelible even as time itself unwinds

yikes i want to stop and just look at everything but the first sunset is already closing in and i haven't done anything

I FORGOT HOW NERVE-WRACKING THIS GAME IS BEFORE YOU CAN SLOW TIME DOWN

i... just found a lottery shop in clock town. i literally never knew this was here. how have i missed it all these years.

NIGHT OF

THE FIRST DAY

60 HOURS REMAIN

how is time passing so fast aaaaaaa

clocktown is such a nice place, they have a whole section of town set aside for a public park with a playground and gardens and everything ;___;

okay so the  great fairies though

remember what i was saying about how this game is actually very heavily voiced for being an ostensibly unvoiced game? everyone sighs, grunts, yells, hmms? and so on. and sometimes you'll catch almost a word.

except for the great fairy, it just sounds like she's squeaking "PLEASE ME" which is. an uncomfortable request. at the best of times.

but especially when i am in the form of a young potted plant.

idk what that was supposed to sound like but the midi-ified file is NOT GREAT, nintendo.

members-only late night milk bar... aw yeah please spike my milkshake, that is a great idea and i love it

(i'm not joking i love spiked milkshakes)

(also i love the milk bar and all the scenes that take place in there, especially on the last night, when you can just have very quiet calm conversations with people doing their best to be calm in the face of their unavoidable deaths)

DAWN OF

THE SECOND DAY

48 HOURS REMAIN

oh no oh no oh no WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING IN THE FIRST GO-ROUND

oh right i have literally two tasks

phew

i forgot to go into the stock pot inn on the first day, and i missed seeing kafei at the mailbox, so i am THIRSTY for EVERYONE'S FAVORITE CANONICAL FIANCEES

seriously, another weird but lovely choice on the part of the developers when they were ganking oot character models for this game. "who's a potential spooky villain? how about that one merchant guy? sure! and for an attractive bride-type character, what are our options? hmmm... how about the cuccoo lady with all the allergies? it's perfect"

i love not just anju and kafei but everything involved in their storyline - how kafei's friendship with the curiosity shop manager saved him, how anju's best friend is cremia on the ranch and they talk about their lives and how cremia will save her life (if she can), how you can spend actual in-game hours just sitting with anju's ancient senile grandmother hearing her stories as she thinks she is telling them to her long-dead son, how anju's mom will quietly not like kafei and kafei's mom will love and worry about him on a serious level very unlike her public persona... it's all so very real and human and i love it so

also heck the whole cast of characters staying in the inn

AH THERE SHE IS

THE BRIDE

anju i'm going to fix this ;___;

hello guardsmen if you are concerned about the state of today's youth maybe you should talk to THE BOMBER GANG i'm just saying

people who have played the more recent loz games, is the trend of "horrible underaged gangs of roving thugs" still a thing? or are mm and ww the only two games where they inflicted that on the player?

NIGHT OF

THE SECOND DAY

36 HOURS REMAIN

i'm sweating, i am just trying to find the bomber gang so i can get into the observatory so i can get the moon's tear so i can get the flower launch pad so i can get to the top of the clock tower and not die in a fiery inferno as gravitational forces rip the world apart

is that so much to ask

THERE'S THE LITTLE RUGRAT

COME HERE SO I CAN PUMMEL YOU

i refuse to feel bad about spin-kicking this child in the face because 1) i am technically also a child, in any body they put me in and 2) they are super racist if you talk to them while you are still a deku scrub! VERY RUDE

heck they let fergus over there man the door and he is still in diapers

gonna fill their hideout with encouraging tracts and stuff helping them grow into better people

so, fun fact

i remember many things about this game

but not that there is a skulltula in the waterway leading to the observatory

that was an unpleasant surprise

you probably could have heard me yell from three states away

(also, nothing has attacked you yet in the game (that actually does damage, and is not part of the story) so it's a little wake-up call: hey, don't forget to use Tatl to scout ahead, don't forget that you have a shield

also just

don't

be a moron

anyway

i was about to ask who the dickens put balloons with majora's mask on them all over the place - it's a weird choice, since no one... knows... what's going on? but technically, so far, all of the balloons are being interacted with by the bombers, or in places where the bombers go, and skull kid was, however briefly, a member of the bombers' secret society for justice (AND ALSO RACISM) so actually it makes more sense than i expected

when you first walk into the basement of the observatory and... the music changes... and there's a chicken??? it is what i assume being high is like.

DAWN OF

THE FINAL DAY

24 HOURS REMAIN

plays just as i lunge for the moon's tear

okay i've got this, i can stop fretting, the while last day can just be me looking around at stuff and being sad because i can't help anybody

yet

DON'T WORRY PEOPLE I WILL SAVE YOU

EVENTUALLY

IN A DIFFERENT LIFE

YOU'RE DEFINITELY BONED IN THIS ONE

SORRY ABOUT THAT

BUT I'M A STUMP THAT CHEWS BUBBLE GUM RIGHT NOW AND I DON'T THINK YOU CAN ASK VERY MUCH OF ME

I CAN'T EVEN REACH THE DOORKNOBS OF THIS TOWN SO TBH I WASN'T GOING TO BE MUCH GOOD AGAINST AN INTERSTELLAR BODY CRASHING INTO THE PLANET

a more srs thought: it was an interesting choice of curse skull kid lays on link at the start, making him into a deku scrub, and i think we can unpack some stuff there: he's drawing on his woodland roots (which link shares), he's making link into something small and largely helpless (like skull kid is, without the mask), he's... actually giving link a very similar kind of body to  his own?

i don't know what  the exact taxonomical differentiation is between deku scrubs and skull kids, but they are both wooden-bodied, whether grown or carved, they both have radiantly glowing eyes unlike most other things in the world, they both clothe themselves in bright layers of leaves... i imagine that if you sandblasted all the drama off a skull kid, you'd find something pretty similar to the lankier deku scrubs.

in that case, what he did is... he really kinda turned link into himself. but his helpless, powerless, abandoned, friendless, pre-mask self. to taunt him with all those awful feelings that skull kid himself experienced.

(mythological distinction for skull kids: they are people who got lost in the woods, and became cursed. if i'm not mistaken.)

(link is literally becoming a skull kid.)

(good times y'all!)

oh gosh the music is so frantic on the third day, and it's such a good bit of development on the design team's side: every day, clock town's music gets a little faster, a little shriller, as their time runs out

if you talk to the guards who block you in on the third day, instead of their usual "hey kiddo it's dangerous outside" they'll start saying "hey, are you alone, where is your family, are you okay, someone is probably worrying about you, please find them and get out of town as soon as you can"

fun fact: one of the things that consistently Wrecks me about this game is how the guards stand at their posts, jaws clenched, holding their fists to their hearts, as they watch their world be destroyed... because they will not abandon their duty.

seriously, every time i die.

and the cow figurines all over town that, if you hadn't noticed before, have bobbleheads, because as the earth starts shaking they do too, and it's another tiny detail that makes it all The Worst.

awkward council meeting eavesdropped on

("nothing is wrong!" is a lot less believable when the ground is literally shaking from the gravitational stresses being exerted by the falling moon, but hey, 2018)

the carpenters shouting back and forth "hey dudes i'm sorry but i'm gonna jet" "are you kidding if i stay i get a promotion"

;_______;

SO MANY RACISTS IN CLOCK TOWN, the merchant's hipster assistant will literally refuse to talk to you if you're "just" a deku scrub

meanwhile the bomb shop guy's grandmother (the one who gets robbed, if you're not paying attention, like i wasn't) is just "oh goodness you are a very small customer, please be careful in our shop of very dangerous things"

NIGHT OF

THE FINAL DAY

12 HOURS REMAIN

eeeeeeeeeeep

finally got into the milk bar (everyone's a member when the world is ending!) and madame aroma, the scary and powerful socialite, starts with a very gentle "are you okay with not fleeing? it looks like we are all going to die here in town. is anyone looking for you?"

if i had all my masks and instruments i would love to invoke that scene right now and be the band on the titanic and give her and the other customers a few minutes of... life, if not joy, and beauty, if not quite comfort.

snuck into the now-abandoned stock pot inn, as well, and... okay, i'm going to say it, i don't know wtf is going on with anju's wedding dress. is her midriff made out of ivy? why is her romantic wedding-day mask (which is a neat concept btw!) a grinning rictus? what are we saying about love in this moment???)

(also, if you have ever made the mistake of helping kafei but forgetting to tell anju to wait for him, or telling anju to wait and then not helping kafei deal with sakon... it's a shitshow, it's bad for you, it darkens your heart forever)

during the last 12 hours the guards will say "i want to help you get out of her asap, run find your folks and i will let you out, please hurry"

nooooooo ;_______;

the postman sobbing because "flee for your life" is not written on the schedule

he wrote himself a letter saying that he is doing a good job and he requests that he himself flee ;__________________; but he can't do it ;__________________________;

oh no here we go

here it comes

the clocktower

the fireworks

the moon

the six hours remaining music

HEART CLUTCH

soft wailing

ngl that sad and weary music is the best part of the entire narrative experience to me

and then skull kid's impotent fury against all that immense power

tatl to skull kid: "what if we... didn't???"

also a good and valid point: friends don't hit friends

JUST LOOK ABOVE YOU

IF IT'S SOMETHING THAT CAN BE STOPPED

JUST TRY AND STOP IT

(his voice is still so horribly thin and shrill, like a child)

but one well-placed gum bubble to the face and we are BACK IN BUSINESS

the BUSINESS

of RUNNING FOR OUR LIVES

from THINGS WE CANNOT FIGHT

i like that the one time zelda appears in the game, it is such a gentle and tender scene, reminding you of the bond she MUST have had with Link, for him to have done so much, and how much trust he puts in her

(... ask me again about the Song of Endings)

("even though it was only a short time, i feel like i've known you forever")

("i believe in my heart that a day will come when i shall meet you again")

(--> all my worst most wretched tp emotions about the wolf and the shrouded lady in the tower)

the song that reminds her of herself and link is the song of time, not anything else... the song about cycles and memory and history and second chances and legends

;_________________;

WELL FUCK I GUESS I'M HAVING PRINCESS ZELDA FEELS IN THE MIDDLE OF  THE GAME IN WHICH SHE DOES NOT PLAY A ROLE

i have to play the songs in the right time, i can't just half-ass it by speeding through the buttons, idk why

("the goddess of time is watching over you" --> old old questions about who the goddess of time is, and which sage zelda was, etc)

the PLOT TWIST when you equip the ocarina and it turns into A GOSHDARN BRASS QUINTET STRAPPED TO YOUR BACK i love it

(each little snail yeah knows how to wail yeah)

tatl saying [as midna will, centuries later]: um dude i mean sir WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU, HAVE I MISJUDGED, SUDDENLY I AM WORRIED ABOUT MY MANNERS

and we are... not victorious, but reprieved!!!

i'll do better this time everyone i promise

DAWN OF

THE FIRST DAY

AGAIN...!!!

[ayuochancosplay]

Sesshomaru cosplay

Hello guys! i’ll be making a series of blog posts of my Sesshomaru cosplay progress  containing both the planning and the making process. I always wanted to do that so I hope it will help you guys out! 

Planning process:

on this part we will be focusing on three main things:

planning your cosplay

buying materials

research 

Each of these parts come before you actually start working on your cosplay, how do you choose the right wig? the right fabric color? with what materials are you going to make the props?

Finding refrences is fairly easy thanks to google pictures yet sometimes there are parts that gets hidden behind layers or weird shots, so I sugget before starting a new cosplay to find as much refrences as you can, game models, offical art, concept art and etc, but I had many times when the character didn’t have much refrences or there simply wasn’t enough, in such situations I often try to go over the scenes the character appears in and take as much screenshots as I can, sometimes you can find your character had a drawing on their back and you’d notice it only after looking over an action scene! also anime openings often show a very ditailed drawing of you charcter, which really helped me with understanding Sesshomaru’s sword handles! 

With every cosplay first comes the planning process, consisting of collecting refrences, counting your budget, sketches and material research. The easiest method for me for planning my cosplay is to break everything down to pieces, many costumes and armor pieces contain several layers and breaking them down really helps. For example before I even make a shopping list I like to sketch down several cosplay pieces for them all to make sense in the project later, I don’t like being confused over certain parts and I try to make it as simple as possible. When you’re drawing your cosplay small details are a lot harder to miss and it is your opputunity to think through how a 2D element might work out in real life. Since Sesshomaru wears several layers consisting of a breast plate, a kimono and an an undershirt, sketching each part individualy really helped me see the whole picture  plan through how it might all look like when i’m actually making the costume. 

For example here’s my sketches for Sesshomaru:

But if sketching the cosplay is not your cup of tea yet you still want to keep your cosplan organized, I suggest you make a to-do list! write down all the cosplay parts you have to make and possible materials you have to buy!

Even though I like to make countless lists of possible sketches and materials sometimes when you’re out there buying fabrics you realise you forgot what you wanted to get, so a very useful app for that is an app called “Cosplanner” (which most of you have probably heard of) but it’s really nice to keep watch on your tasks, so I typed down the things I had to buy\ make for Sesshomaru. keeping a “to buy” list really prevents a huge mess and you could easily keep track of what you’re missing to progress on your cosplay, also because this app uses percents you can always see how much you’ve progressed on your cosplay!

Here you can see my “to buy” list which really helped me arrange my tasks and goals.

After I arranged my buying lists, I started buying materials little by little, starting with buying a fabric for my kimono, I wanted to use a more natural fabric since the show itself is taking place in Japan’s Sengoku period where I assumed they mostly used natural fabrics, in addition to that I knew that Israel is a hot country and  wearing a three layer costume will be super difficult I had to use a breathing fabric. so I bought five meters of white cotton together with  iDye Poly fabric paint and a “so soft” acrylic paint with a matching color (I chose the shade crimson). I also tried not to buy everything at one go in order so save money and look up different options.(do check that the fabric paint you choose will suit the type of fabric that you’re buying my paint suits natural fabrics, it’s usually written on the package.) it is also important for me to pick a color that won’t bleed when i’m painting on facric therefore a so soft acrylic is perfect for me since you can apply it without using too much water plus the color is meant for fabric making it  elastic and preventing possible cracks the a regular acrylic paint might cause. I intend to paint the patterns on Sesshomaru’s kimono by hand and I want it to be as clean as possible, especially when drawn on white fabric.

 I know some people measure themselves out before buying their fabrics but I’m just picking it by eye,concidering that i had to make both the top (which has long sleeves) and the pants i assumed 5 meters will be enough. I had also bought 3 EVA foam blocks for my swords, i’m planning on cutting them up in half in order to carve the swords out, we will see how this turns out. I also plan on buying EVA foam for the armor pieces,even though I own worbla I thought EVA foam would be more suitable for Sesshomaru’s breast plate, while worbla is an amazing material, i thought a thick EVA foam would look more aesthetically pleasing and cheaper for me to afford, i intented to carve out the “spikes” on his outfit out of foam anyway so i’d rather be consistant with my materials.

Making a cosplay always involves a lot of planning and thought,and sometimes the thing you planned to do in the beggining doesn’t work in the end and that’s okay! I like thinking every step through before I start working even when I buy my materials just to keep me calm and make sure I don’t forget anything.

An important part of every cosplay is research, I always look up other talented cosplayers to see how they did their work since most of the time we’re cosplaying a 2D characters and fabircs\ materials sometimes get very confusing, but looking up people who already done this costume might actually help you learn new tactics and gather up brilliant ideas, one of the ways to do it is to look up some Youtube tutorials! with most of them made by cosplayers it creates a great platform to learn and try new things, for examle I never made a piece of armor in my lfe, so I had to look up a couple of tutorials that will tutor me how to use EVA foam and how to make swords ( honestly how the heck do you do this) 

 here’s a list of Youtube tutorials I found useful:

A tutorial explaining how to make 3 types of con friendly swords

EVA foam priming

EVA foam basics

foam spikes     

After I had something to start with, my only worry was ordering a suitable wig for the character, I always try to do this ahead of time in order for the wig to arrive eary before the con (because when you wig arrives late it sucks) usualy I order my wigs from eBay since I don’t want something too expensive nor too fancy, but this time around Sesshomaru has very long and thick hair, so I wanted a wig i knew had a lot of fibers and was long enough for my liking. Therefore I decided to order my wig from Arda wigs, with the help of my friends I went over countless  wigs trying to understand what length or color I should go for, and in the end settled down on a 152 cm silver wig! I didn’t take a completely white wig since I thought a silver one would look better in real life, I also chose a silky wig because of it’s soft fibers, even though my wig won’t be completely tangle free, it made me feel a tad safer. The wig I chose is a  DELILAH SILKY( one of Arda’s classic long wigs) and it arrived super quickly! I really love it and i’m happy with my choice :3

*When you choose a wig for your cosplay, always concider how you need to style it, if you need to straighten a wig always make sure it’s heat resistant! 

Now that I planned everything through and have enough materials to start, I shall begin working on my cosplay!

[jesscopeland]

DADS ARE THE WORST ...peter & jess.

Peter had a rough few weeks, to say the least. Since the fiasco at the ball, it had seemed like he just couldn't win. He had barely spoken to his daughter-- scratch that, he hadn't spoken to his daughter. The whole point of her coming to live with him was that he could watch over and guide her, and after the election had gone awry, he was either too busy scolding her for her wiley behavior or trying to avoid her with work & alcohol. Today, though, he finally shambled out of his room for the first time, although still in his pajamas, settling in on their couch and turning on the television. He needed the sunlight. Upon seeing Jessica enter the room, he immediately felt the guilt and anxiety rush into his throat. "Jess, hey, haven't seen you in a while." He gave her a tight lipped smile. "Why don't you, uh, come sit, pumpkin?" he patted the seat next to him awkwardly.

It didn't matter where Jess tried to hide these days, assignments were out to kick her ass. Whether it be a collection of short essays on anyone between Beethoven The Great and David Helfgott The Unheard Of — when she wasn't bored out of her mind reading their memoirs, she was thinking about Ophelia and how Jess was going to get a mind reader to trust her, or Thiago and how crappy he must feel these days being Capital D-Dead. It was safe to say that much like her dad, she'd been preoccupied lately, not to mention that Jess still held a bit of a grudge against her father for not telling her about Adriel. Having come home well after midnight the night before and leaving bright and early to go see Sylvia about one of her college assignments, it was safe to say that Jess looked like shit. Tired, moody and kind of short even with herself at the moment, she tried to creep up the stairs only to be spotted in the doorway. Twisting on her heel slowly, she eyed her dad, puffy faced and in his PJs. Must have been nice. "Yeah. That kinda happens when you get into a serious relationship with your bed." She was being snide, and looking at her dad she knew in her gut that he didn't deserve it. So taking a beat, she sighed and folded her arms, but didn't sit. "Guess even those protected by the angels get the flu sometimes..."

Oh, she was going to go this route, eh? He couldn't say he was surprised, and at her remarks, simply gave her a disappointed frown and let out a sigh through his nose. "Jess." However, he was at least happy to see that she corrected herself, even somewhat slightly. It was hard to look at her these days, especially when it seemed as if she could barely look back at him either. All he could remember were their times together-- trips to the movies, camping, waterparks, father and daughter vacations, birthday parties -- it all flashed before his eyes, blending into her now dismayed expression. When she refused to sit with him, he picked his spiked coffee back up, taking a sip before then leaning forward. "That's what this is about?" he huffed, "I really don't know what you think Adriel meant by those comments, but they're really just a helpful ally around town. Your friend--Nolan is it? Was being a bit confrontational."

The sound he made when he used her name was as familiar to her as her own body, and yet each time she felt a shiver run through her, as if warning her of uncharted waters. It took everything in her not to say 'Dad' back in the same tone. "Nolan's a cop it's his job to be confrontational." She defended quickly, perhaps too quickly. So instead, she made a face and lifted a hand out incredulously. "Anyway, what do you mean that's what this is about? Dad, you knew. You knew this whole time that something weird was going on and yet every time I ever mentioned anything about supernatural people in West Hollow you acted as if I'd lost a hunk of brain cells." She accused, not happy about that. "Every time I tried to make you listen to me you looked at me like I was crazy."

Where did he draw the line between protecting his daughter and helping her? Seeing her speaking with Catherine, and then her veiled threat when she had walked off from it had sent chills down his spine. Just when he had thought he had control back at the ball, it had been ripped from him yet again. For a moment, her tone made him reconsider his stance on telling her about it all. If he should confess the blackmailing, show her the scars, tell her who to avoid and who to go to for help. It only took a second for him to go back on it, though, as he realized her ideas about the whole thing were twofold. The way she spit at Adriel's existence meant even angels, literal angels from heaven, weren't even safe from her little club's wrath. Peter's eyebrows furrowed at her, his lips drawing into a line of frustration. "Jessica, I wanted to just sit and talk with you and now you're back on this--this...conspiracy nonsense." Peter then sat up slowly, walking over to be closer to her. "I'm not saying you're crazy, but pumpkin, do you honestly believe that Adriel is an angel? Just because she answered your off duty friend's aggressive questioning? I mean, jeez, when we brought you to Sunday school they weren't being literal, honey."

"It's not nonsense, Dad!" She whined like a child, resisting the urge to stamp her foot in protest. It wasn't nonsense. It was real and it was every day and they weren't the only ones aware of it, she was sure of that but she wasn't new to this conversation either. This was how it always went with her dad. The Mayor of Naiveville. "We were all there — at the ball. We saw what happened, there was something major going on and I know you know something about it. Why won't you just admit it?" She looked at him square-shouldered and determined. "What did you and Catherine fight about?"

Peter let out another frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes upwards towards the ceiling as his body turned away from her. God, would she ever shut the fuck about this? For a moment, he had to ground himself in the reality that Jessica was his daughter, and not some constituent he could wave away with an empty promise. "Jessica, please," Finally, looking back at her, he shrugged in the face of her passion, as if the whole thing was nonchalant. "Catherine, as you may have figured out, is a very passionate woman. She was upset about some of the awards, and then about some of the food. She owns a 5 star restuarant, honey, her standards can be a little high even for myself." The frustration inked into the lines of his face, wearing him down as he looked at her once more and tried to convince himself that this was all alright. Somehow. "I got a little cocky after having a few glasses of wine and she pushed me in frustration. You're reading into things as if you're in one of those literature classes, Jessica, when really there's nothing there. This is what being in that group does to you. Everything is a conspiracy, and when you get evidence otherwise, it's just another part of it. Honestly, this is why we can't talk anymore-- you're obsessed."

Everything he said rattled Jess's nerves right down to the embers in her core, rare to make a real flame but every so often, yes, there was a spark. Her dad was one of the easiest to ignite it and for a moment, she felt like her mom, a raging argument brewing in her belly and not even knowing where to begin. "No, Dad, we can't talk anymore because you're either too busy lost in a bottle or you're pretending I don't exist. Usually both." She snapped, wanting to yell in his face about Thiago possessing Camila's body and Holt lifting up couches but her stubbornness had Jess in a quiet fit of rage. If her dad didn't want to share what he knew, then fine. Neither did she. Twisting to storm to her room like some prepubescent kid, Jess paused to quickly add. "And for the record, maybe I am obsessed. But at least that group isn't afraid to talk to me. And sooner or later, we're going to find out what you're up to whether you like it or not."

Her words hit a cord in him he did not know even existed. How was it that children were able to frustrate one so much? Peter wasn't sure, but right at this very moment he could feel his blood boiling. She had only gotten worse as time had gone on being here, and he wasn't sure how to address it. As she mentioned his drinking though, that was it, and he scoffed, "Jessica, we talked about that. I'm an adult who can make my--" before he could even continue, she was on yet again, interrupting him. Peter's arms crossed over his chest, watching as she went with an aggrivated expression. "Afraid to talk to you..." he repeated her words with a grumble, shaking his head. He then followed as she walked up the steps, calling after her, "You and your friends can do whatever you want, but at the end of the day I'm still going to be your dad--your family, and that's what matters! If you don't like it, though, I'm sure your mother wouldn't have any problem taking you back!"

As her father's voice elevated behind her, Jess swore her feet got heavier with every stomp left behind. "Oohhh, and you'd just love that! Whenever anything gets too hard for you, just dump it in mom's lap, she'll take care of it! You know — she's not your actual secretary." Jess twisted around halfway up the stairs, hating those stairs, they always felt endless. Sighing, she tipped her head back. All she was doing lately was fighting with people and that wasn't like Jess. First Nolan, now her dad... who knew, maybe Jace would turn up and say the wrong thing next and she'd be completely out of friends. "Why does it always have to be like this? Why don't you trust me? If there's something going on, if you need help... Mystery Inc. can help you. That's what we're trying to do." She gestured out with her hands. "We're not just dumb kids in someone's basement anymore, Dad. We've got leads, we have real information... We have proof..."

At the accusation about Jackie, he felt the cord pulled once again. He scoffed loudly, angrily, "I do not think of Jackie as-- you know what? My relatonship with your mother is non of your business, Jessica!" Peter yelled back at her. As fired up as he was, he was upset inside, feeling the tension eating away at his own heart with every yell. As she stormed upstairs, he shook his head, letting out a depressed sigh at both his relationship with his own daughter and his actions. Just as he shuffled back to get his coffee, he heard her call to him yet again, halting his movements as he looked back to her. At her words about being in trouble, his mind swirled yet again with the guilt, weighting his feet down into the hardwood itself, as if he could somehow indent it just by standing there. As much as he wanted to tell her, it would only make her more of a target. But when? When would she stop asking? What if she never did? What if they went after her anyways? Peter let out a long breath through his nose, looking to the floor as he stil felt the anger from her words now mixing with the conflicting disappointment in himself. "Pumpkin, I....whatever you think you have," he finally looked back up at her, "you need to stay away from. This town is dangerous and not in the way you understand. That doesn't mean that there are angels or devils flying around, but once you go accusing someone of things like that, who knows how they'll react."

Jess felt her eyes turn glassy, blaming the salty feeling in the back of her throat on being so frustrated with being treated like a child. He didn't get it — she was capable. And hell, if she wasn't, then other people were in the group. Tougher people. Like Harper and Nolan, they'd be fine no matter what, Jess believed it. She just wanted her dad to believe it too. "Whatever, I'm tired." She surrendered with a disappointed wave of her hands, wanting nothing more than to go upstairs and call Jace or Nolan to complain about the whole thing. "If you see Catherine this week, tell her she can shove her 5-Star food," Jess called out, going to take the rest of the stairs to her room.

At her metaphorical waving of the white flag, he felt his whole body hunch over in not only guilt, but disappointment. The whole situation had gotten so out of hand, he couldn't even believe how fast it had happened. His one chance he tried to reach out and blew it, and yet again, he was left to regret her actions. Damned if he did, damned if he didnt. "Jess, pumpkin--" he called up to her, putting one foot on the first step only to hear the bedroom door slam and lock.

[asrafarel]

Galra analysis - part 2 - general anatomy

N.B: I use “human” as a comparison unit in terms of anatomy. Also, I drew Haxus and he’s beautiful. *flutters eyelashes* (second “drawing” under the cut)

(I promise, I have an explanation. Check under the cut. TT)

Galran distinctive features

 The built

We’ve seen Galras are pretty different from each other and understanding the full spectrum of the race is going to be pretty difficult. Fortunately, there is one constant that can help us distinguish them from any other alien specie we met until now: it’s their lanky long built.

This is actually the sole common point for all sub-groups.

In term of human anatomy, when you’re standing properly (back straight with your arms resting on your sides), elbows reach around the last ribs and your fingers reach around mid-tights. Galra’s elbows are reaching to their waist and the fingers to the knees, which makes it notably longer than either humans’ or Alteans’ (who have nearly the same features anyway).

I double checked and all Galras seen until now are the same. Yes, even Morvok. Only Sal and Varkon, who are drawn with lots of inconsistencies, sometimes have their arms human sized but it’s pretty safe to assume they are the same as other Galras. Some Galras are looking more elongated than others due an optical illusion accentuated by their skinny silhouette (yes, you Throk). Also, the armors designs can be very tricky on the eyes.

 The crest

Another recurring feature in most sub-groups is the crest: 50% of the Galra cast has it. Varkon, Haxus, Throk, Thace, Prorok and Sendak all have the same crest. It the most common and seems to be some kind of bony outgrowth covered in skin; much like the Punched Warden’s head but more protruding. Not 100% sure, but it doesn’t seem to be hair.

The commander from Olkarion is a difficult one. All lizard-type2 have hair, so it’s nearly impossible to tell if it’s a haircut or a regular crest. I honestly have no answer. Kolivan and Commander Sideburns have the same spiky crest: it’s a succession of tiny spikes on middle-top of the skull supporting the theory regarding bony outgrowths.

The commander from Kerberos has the most unique: it’s literally a horned mohawk.

Ulaz has no crest but a splendid mohawk. Maybe there is a crest under the hair, but it’s very unlikely since even Sendak (who’s covered in fur) has a regular hairless crest.

I’m not sure whether Zarkon’s shell-like skin should be considered a crest or not and I don’t think we’ll ever know what’s under Sal’s wild bangs.

The eyes

This is an interesting point because Galra yellow eyes might very well be unnatural. At this point in the serie, only 2 Galras have normal eyes : Commander Kerberos and Sal. Commander Kerberos’ still have a faint yellowish tone but it’s clearly not the same as others (more like the white of his eyes is yellow). Sal’s is completely white.   Also, note that they don’t have the dark lining around their eyes like their yellow-eyed fellows do. 

We learned from the Beta-Traz episode that having purple eyes is the result of doping from refined quintessence, so basically it means that Zarkon is doing drug. :I Zarkon’s eyes were yellow in the past and thanks to the Astral plane flashes, we also know that yellow-eyed Galra still have pupils.

If I have to reach to a conclusion, I’d say that yellow eyes are the result of raw quintessence consumption. This.is.but.a.theory.

Sub-groups

I’m going to develop on the main sub-groups here. Characters belonging to their own sub (like Antok, Sendak, Zarkon, etc..) will get their own post in another part.

Lizard-type 1 & 2

This sub-group is very interesting because it shares a lot of common points with Zarkon. Most notable are the ears, the bi-colored skin and facial outgrowths. They’re all blue-skinned and have hair and beards (or at least the galra equivalent), but no eyebrows. Outgrowths are scaly spots on their face or horned/spiky crests so far. Variants of those are likely to exist. Hair are trimmed and/or shaved.The Beta-Traz Warden is displaying facial markings; it’s unclear whether this is a skin peculiarity or simple paint/tatoo. At first, I thought it was the second option because he’s the only one having some and his design screams 80’s cyber-punk fashion so, if that’s the real inspiration, paint is mandatory. BUT, and I nearly missed it, Commander Olkarion’s body is red! Meaning he has a body marking! So those patches of colors may very well be just like Kolivan’s: “plain” colored skin.  

Ears: 2 parts 1b. Check the change: he ended with “fin” ears

Outgrowths: scales et spikes

Hair(s): still don’t know about Commander Olkarion

Patches of colored skin: turns out they both have 2 different colors

Manta-Ray type

Why manta-ray? Because of Haxus’ head: it looks like a swimming Manta-ray. :l Don’t believe me? Check this.

This type has a smooth, hairless complexion. Morvok and Throk are displaying some kind of bangs and ponytails, it hardly seems to be hair but some kind of weird equivalent. Could very well be the same as their ears, if those are really ears and not hair actually (we have no clue and this is pretty tricky). Throk is displaying facial markings unlike the others, no clue if it’s paint or a racial feature (it’s the same color as his skin though). 3 on 4 of them have a crest, but only Haxus has eyebrows and Morvok’s ears are really curly.

Ears: floppy and, in Morvok’s case, curly

Crest: only Morvok is lacking one

Skin: Face is another color from the body.  3bis. Haxus and Throk have a third darker shade for their hand, Morvok’s hands are the same color as his face and Varkon’s are the same as his ears.

Hair?: whatever this is only Throk and Morvok have those and since Varkon shares traits with lizard-type, he’s got a beard

Hairy-Type

It’s still unclear to me whether they should be linked to the manta-ray type or not, they got a lot in common and -as said earlier- basically the manta-ray type could just be them but hairless.

Eyebrows can be fused with hair, but it’s not mandatory. Their faces varies a lot more than other sub-groups: Thace is very human-like, Prorok got orc-like features and Sal is kind of a furry-but-no. Other sub-groups members are closer in terms of design.

They’re obviously linked to the furry type, especially Prorok who has traits a lil bit alike Sendak’s (connection of ears and skull and somewhat defined ears) and Sal who is fluffy as hell with same defined ears.

Ears: covered in hair (or hairy in Sal’s case), various attach to the skull

Beard: I have no clue if Prorok shave or if this is, in fact, facial marking

Hair: well, those are definitely hair, they all stop around mid-neck (Prorok too)

Eyebrows: either well defined (Thace) or merged in hair (Sal) or over hair (Prorok)

And this closes part 2. Any review and feedback welcomed! Next part focuses on the BoM. <3 @candyfoxdraws glad you like it!

[gottacatchghosts]

Dannymay Day 3

April Showers Bring May Flowers Dannymay 2017

Prompt: Day 3: Animals/Fangs

Word count: 1183

Characters: Phantom, Sam, Tucker

Warnings: none

Extra notes: This is an AU where Danny dies in the ghost portal. His ghost half forms before he dies so he looks like a combination of Fenton and Phantom and he doesn’t remember anything from when he was alive. The timeline is a little modified but his first interaction with the human world was the events of Control Freaks, where he met Sam and Tucker. His closest companion is Spooky the owl. That should be enough of a recap to not be confused. :0

Let me know if you have any questions!!

[writing tag] | [Dannymay tag] | [Dannymay 2017 tag] | [My fills] | [fic index]

Phantom likes that he looks human enough to blend in with humans. He likes to hang out with his human friends a lot and that means doing human things and going to human places. He’s not sure how people don’t notice he’s a ghost, but as long as he doesn’t actively use his powers, no one gives him a second glance.

It’s kind of awesome.

He doesn’t need to eat, not really, but it’s quickly becoming one of his favorite past times. Sam yelled at Tucker for twenty minutes the first time the techno-geek brought him to the Nasty Burger but either she gave up or quit because she’s never mentioned the topic again.

He likes milkshakes the best. He likes the coldness and the sweetness of them and he likes that they’re easy to consume, something that’s very useful to his underworked jaw. He especially likes mixing the flavors and always thanks Sam and the workers behind the counter profusely when he orders shakes that have two different flavors mixed together—Sam for paying for it, and he workers for agreeing to make them, despite ordering off menu.

It’s not that he hasn’t eaten solid foods before, oh no. He just likes shakes a lot more.

It takes several months of knowing the two humans before Sam notices something new about Phantom.

“Do… Do you have fangs?” she asks out of the blue. Phantom looks up, half a burger stuffed in his mouth, and nods, taking a huge bite. “Since when?” Her voice is incredulous.

Tucker looks away from his own meal, a feat in itself, and watches the ghost, mouth falling open. “You have fangs?”

Phantom chews as quickly as he can. “Uh huh,” he grunts, nodding. He bares his teeth and pulls his lips away with his fingers. “See?”

“That’s so cool!” Tucker breathes out, staring at the pointed teeth in awe.

Sam is similarly entranced and Phantom smiles around his fingers briefly before letting go. “Not all ghosts have fangs.” He gives a toothy smile that shows off his incisors now that his human friends know what to look for. “Some of the others I’ve talked to like to make fun of mine though. They say they’re too small. But I don’t mind. At least they fit in my mouth.”

“Are they hard to talk around?” Sam asks, eyes trained on his teeth.

Phantom bares them a bit more visibly for a second, amused. “Nah. They’re easy to forget about, honestly.” He picks his burger back up and rips into it, conversation over. Sam’s nose wrinkles and she finally goes back to poking at her salad. Tucker snorts and continues eating his own burger.

The topic doesn’t come up again for the rest of the day.

Several days later, settled comfortably in Sam’s basement theater, while they’re watching some cheesy vampire movie, Tucker suddenly laughs out loud, startling his two friends. “Dude!” he gasps out, arms wrapped around his middle. “You’re like a vampire!”

Phantom scoffs and glares, offended. “I am not! I’m a ghost! Ghosts are much better than vampires!”

Sam snickers on his other side, sitting up in her reclined chair to glance at him. “I dunno, ghosts are so mainstream now!” Her eyes cut to Tucker. “They’re like cellphones!”

Phantom and Tucker both cry out in indignation. “Don’t be mean, Sam!” Phantom whines, tugging his hood over his head, hiding his face. He crosses his arms and listens to Tucker grumble and sigh as Sam laughs. “Ghosts are much cooler. At least we’re real!”

“Are you trying to tell me vampire ghosts don’t exist?”

Phantom hesitates and hums, raising one hand to his chin, arms still folded. “You know, now that you mention it, I’ve heard these rumors.”

Tucker pulls his hood down and stares him in the eye, leaning on the arms of the plush chairs. “Go on.”

Phantom cracks a grin, looking between his two friends. “The Ghost Zone loves its gossip, you know,” he tells them, voice dropping conspiratorially, “and a lot of rumors involve ghosts that are weird or different.” He doesn’t tell them that he’s the topic of a fair few of said rumors. They don’t need to know. “Rumors lead me to Spooky, so they can be pretty accurate sometimes.”

Tucker looks up, trying to locate the ghost owl. “Where is she, by the way?”

Phantom closes his eyes and focuses on his core, stretching his ghost sense out as far as it can reach—which is a long further in the human realm than the Ghost Zone. Coming back with nothing, he opens his eyes and shrugs. “I dunno. I haven’t seen Cujo in a few days either so maybe they’re together. You know how Spooky gets.”

Tucker nods and Sam waves her hand. “Anyway, the vampire ghost rumors?”

“Right, right. So. I’ve never heard any of this directly, it’s always been in passing, but they say there’s this demi-ghost and he has a small fraction of the Ghost Zone in his pocket.” Phantom holds on a hand and closes his other around it, trying to visually demonstrate control.

“What?” Tucker asks, drawing out the word. He leans back, brow furrowed. “Demi-ghost?”

“Yeah, like a half-ghost or something. Like I said, I don’t have all the details. But rumor has it, he’s really powerful and he’s been around for, like, twenty years or so, and he’s got a reputation. Ghosts from here to the Far Frozen are terrified of him and apparently he’s got a small gathering of minions.”

“What’s this have to do with vampires?” Sam asks, bringing them back on track. “While this is really interesting, it seems off topic.”

“But it’s not! Most ghosts assume the other half of the guy is human, but a lot of them assume he’s half-ghost-half-vampire!” Phantom throws his arms in the arm theatrically and Tucker snickers. “He’s probably not a vampire,” he assures his friends, “but he looks enough like one. Or so they say. I’ve never seen the guy. Black hair spiked up to look like horns, blue skin, solid red eyes, some kinda white suit and a cape; it all screams Dracula to me.”

“Whoa.” Sam and Tucker murmur together, sitting back in their chairs, possibly trying to picture this ghost.

Phantom nods, tucking his arms together again. “The rumors say he’s virtually unapproachable unless you like having your limbs torn off.” He shivers and pulls his knees closer as well. “He sounds scary.”

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere near that guy,” Sam agrees, turning back to their movie. It’s still playing, though Sam had put it on mute once Tucker dissolved into hysterics.

“Yeah,” Phantom sighs, tugging his hood back up. He doesn’t tell his friends how this demi-ghost, known simply as Plasmius, or “the halfa” by ruder ghosts, only comes to the Ghost Zone when he wants something. He only traverses the Infinite Realms in search of something, and, more often than not, it’s power. He doesn’t tell them the rumors that say Plasmius is looking for him. He doesn’t want them to worry.

“Me neither.”

[ezzydean]

tanadai for "33. things you said from across the room" please?

so this has been sitting half finished in my scriv for like…. 7 months?  oops?  also it kind of ran away and wound up being IwaTanaDai and the prompt got lost a little.

enjoy anyway?  :D

If Daichi had his phone at least he could pretend to be occupied by it.  He wouldn’t have anyone to call to rescue him since his roommate and his best friend were two of the three jerks who had locked them all in here and his second best friend is no match for his first best friend in terms of threat. But unfortunately Suga had snatched his phone mere seconds before shoving him into the bathroom with Tanaka right behind him - having had his phone confiscated by Ennoshita - and before Daichi could even consider a reaction the door leading to Oikawa’s room had opened and then Iwaizumi had been shoved into the bathroom from that side.

Daichi had rattled his door and heard Iwaizumi on the other side doing the same.

“Don’t bother, Dai,” Suga had called out.  “Oikawa and I ordered a couple of those door jammer braces. You aren’t getting out until we let you out.”

Tanaka, who had been silently watching the other two struggle with the doors called out.

“Ennoshita.  If something bad happens to me in here be warned: Noya will avenge me.  It’s in our best friend pact.”

“Believe me, Tanaka,” Ennoshita calmly replied, “Nishinoya coming after me in the dark of night with gnawed down popsicle sticks doesn’t exactly send a shiver of fear through me.”

“Now you three be good and have yourselves a little chat.”  Oikawa knocked on his door.  “And we’ll let you out later.”

Iwaizumi looked around the small bathroom before dropping into the tub with a growled “Don’t even think about turning the water on” and was now sitting in the small bathtub, fully clothed, with his knees hooked over the edge and his sneakered feet tapping the side of the tub.  Tanaka had hopped onto the counter top and was pawing his way through every drawer and basket and cup he could reach.  Daichi was sitting on the toilet - lid down thank you very much he had only made that drunken mistake once and would never again if he could help it - and wondering where exactly in his life he went wrong to be here: locked in his own bathroom in his university dorm suite with the two guys he had the most ridiculously huge crushes on.  

Logically he knew exactly where he went wrong.  He went wrong when he realized that he had a crush on not one person, but two.  Two kind, funny, attractive, athletic, sassy, amazing people that he was pretty sure he probably never even had a chance with since he knew that they both had a crush of sorts on each other.  (He went doubly wrong a few minutes later when Suga caught him during their Skype call staring at the way Iwaizumi was talking to Oikawa about running into Tanaka at the youth volleyball camp that he had picked Oikawa’s nephew up from earlier that week and Suga had given Daichi a knowing look because of course Suga knew about how Daichi felt about Tanaka already and then there was Iwaizumi being all adorable and disheveled from playing with Oikawa’s nephew all afternoon and Daichi knew somewhere in his mind he was done for.)

The worst part was that it wasn’t even like he could blame Iwaizumi for anything.  It wasn’t like Iwaizumi had swooped in on Tanaka and plucked him out of Daichi’s hands.  Daichi hadn’t even realized his feelings for Tanaka had bubbled up into a crush until the moment he heard Iwaizumi talking about Tanaka and a blade of jealousy had knifed through him.  Then approximately five minutes later Suga had let out a bark of laughter and Daichi wanted to curl up in a ball and never face the world again.

That led to months of pining and wistful yet sultry looks shared between the three of them - Suga’s words not Daichi’s - which somehow led to Suga calling him that morning and saying he and Tanaka and Ennoshita were coming over because they needed to talk to him and now he’s locked in his own bathroom.  While he tries not to cringe at Tanaka digging through everything he can reach because this is Daichi’s bathroom too and some of that stuff is his and other than Asahi and Suga and now Oikawa no one else knew how much effort Daichi actually puts into his personal hygiene.

“What even is this?”  Tanaka’s voice pulled Daichi from his musings of running away to a new country to avoid his so called best friend for the rest of his life.  Daichi’s face flushed and then went pale when he saw the tube in Tanaka’s hand.  He really wished that the most embarrassing thing Tanaka could find in here would be a bottle of lube.  Sadly Tanaka was nowhere near that drawer at the moment.  “What exactly is ‘Beautiful Skin Melting Gel’ and why does Oikawa have it?”

Iwaizumi coughed against the back of his hand and raised his eyebrows knowingly.  Daichi glared at him.  Tanaka laughed and kept muttering about Oikawa’s bizarre beauty products - “‘purifying charcoal cleansing gel’ what the fuck?” - and comparing them to stuff his sister had in her bathroom while Daichi simultaneously threatened Iwaizumi silently to just keep his mouth shut and tried not to die.  At least he wouldn’t have to worry about liking both Tanaka and Iwaizumi both because he’ll either be on the run from the cops or in jail for the murders of Oikawa Tooru and Sugawara Koushi.  He’ll just maim Ennoshita a little.  He was probably just a minor co-conspirator after all.  The spike of panic and fear shooting down his spine as Tanaka pulls open the next drawer is all Oikawa and Suga’s fault.

Daichi looked away from Iwaizumi’s smirk to see Tanaka pull out a small basket and rattle it around.

“Why the hell does a bathroom shared by two guys have so many chapsticks and lip balms and is that one shaped like an egg?”

“Kissable lips are a must, obviously,” Iwaizumi said.  His face turned pink when the other two looked at him.  “Oikawa says weird shit sometimes okay?  I can’t help it if some of it sticks.”  Daichi snorted softly at the uncomfortable way Iwaizumi shifted at the attention and then froze when Iwaizumi grinned.  “Though I can’t remember ever seeing him use or talk about that brand.  Pretty sure he hates it, to be honest.  The flavors aren’t right or something.”

Nope.  Daichi was never going to be on the run.  He was going to be in jail for two murders.  Oikawa fucking Tooru and his goddamn best friend Iwaizumi fucking Hajime.  He did he best to convey this to Iwaizumi with glares and subtle facial movements and hand gestures.  Iwaizumi didn’t seem to be very concerned by this.

Daichi looked back in time to watch Tanaka slowly drag his gaze up from the lip balm in his hand to Daichi, eyes lingering for just a moment on Daichi’s lips.

“Tanaka I swear if you-”  Tanaka held the tube out and grinned at him.  “No.”

“Daichi?”

“No,” Daichi bit out.

“Please?”

And at that moment Daichi knew, knew without a shadow of a doubt, that he was irrevocably wrapped around Tanaka’s finger and would be the rest of his life.  Tanaka was giving him that stupid adorable face with the expectant eyes and tiny pout and asking him politely and, really, how was he supposed to say no to that again?

Daichi stood and plucked the tube from Tanaka’s hand.  He had to stand practically between Tanaka’s legs and lean to the side so he could use the mirror to apply the lip balm and when he used the pad of his thumb to swipe just under his lip to clear the little bit of excess there he was surprised to see the slight tremor of excitement run through his hand.  The balm is one he didn’t use often.  It’s too glittery and pink and shiny to wear anywhere but out to a club and he and Oikawa, to some people’s surprise, don’t actually go out that often.

The urge to lick his lips is strong, especially when he pulled back from the mirror and met Tanaka’s gaze.

“Holy fuck,” Tanaka whispered, breath ghosting across Daichi’s cheek.  “I think I need to kiss you.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Daichi replied.  He barely got the words out before Tanaka’s hands were cupping his cheeks and drawing him in the last few inches.

It wasn’t necessarily better than his dreams - he never imagined his first kiss with Tanaka would be while they were locked in his bathroom after all - but holy fuck it was real and that was the important thing.  It was real and Tanaka’s fingers were trembling against his skin and Tanaka’s shirt was rough under Daichi’s fingers and Iwaizumi made an interested noise from the bathtub and Daichi had to pull away because he had forgotten about Iwaizumi for a moment.  He was torn as he pulled away.  He wanted to keep kissing Tanaka, keep losing himself in that warmth.  But he also wanted Iwaizumi in on it too.

He leaned to the side and glanced over his shoulder to meet Iwaizumi’s eyes as he scrambled out of the tub.

“You two can’t just do that and look that good together and look at me like that,” Iwaizumi warned.

“Oh yeah?”  Daichi couldn’t help but ask and he turned around and felt Tanaka’s arms wrap around his waist.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”  Tanaka challenged and hooked his chin over Daichi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi’s kiss, Daichi soon found out, was just as wonderful and just as real as Tanaka’s had been and the only regret he had was that it took so long to find out.  And the fact he forgot how loudly Oikawa could screech when he was victorious about something but that was mostly because he almost bit Tanaka’s tongue and Iwaizumi did bite his neck hard enough to break the skin at the panicked seagull level of screech Oikawa let out.  Other than that he had to admit, at least to himself, that getting locked in his own bathroom turned out much better than he ever expected it to.

[the-crystal-muse]

Cause why not, I’m gonna liveblog my thoughts on the episode as I watch it! Should be fun, especially given the episode’s subject material.

Everything will be tagged and placed under a readmore.

So, Twilight’s going to be helping foals at a hospital? Huh. Sounds like a fun thing to do.

“I’ll bring snacks, a book to read to them, and gifts!” “Food and presents always cheer me up.” If anybody ever wondered why Spike acted so full of himself in earlier seasons, there you go. Twily spoiled the poor thing rotten.

“...We have three hours to buy presents, pick up books from the schoolhouse, and pick up treats.” I think we should leave the presents to Twi. Knowing her she’ll buy them more books. A lot more books. She could probably restock the school’s library. Heaven knows the old one isn’t getting any use.

...Yes, I too mourn Golden Oaks. To this day I weep over it’s tragic death.

“Yeah, knock on wood.” Gotta love that joke there. Simple but pretty funny.

Oh hey! Cadance! Nice to see you. I’m sure it’ll be nice to see you leave in the next two minutes too. #WheresMyCadanceEpisode

Shining's my headcanon voice for Flurry. It’s so spot on.

Ah, Voice of Reason Spike is back at it again. We haven’t seen since What About Discord.

Aw! She already knows how to walk! She’s pretty cut-

TWILIGHT. THAT’S A LOT OF TOYS. STOP YOU’RE GOING TO SPOIL HER WORSE THAN SPIKE

“Best Aunt Ever” is going to be That Line for this episode, isn’t it?

Also, Flurry pretending to be a bear is adorable. Not as cute as Twilight’s bear circus though.

So, Flurry, you can uh...levitate things. That’s cool. Not like it took Sweetie four seasons to learn levitation...

So her Whammy calms her down? Well I know what’ll be lost/destroyed by the end of this episode.

“You know my friend Spearhead?” “Honestly, all of your friends’ names are very similar.” Ha! I’m glad we got another pony names joke. Those are always fun.

“We could really use a night out.” “You mean day?” “That’s what I said, isn’t that what I said?” Confused Cadance was adorable and sad in her own way. Just the way she glanced around like she had no idea where she was made me want to hug her. Stay safe, love horse.

Also, is Shining Armor growing a beard? He always had stubble when stressed. By season’s end I predict he’ll have a full goatee.

!!! They’re playing bear! That’s so sweet!

ALSO FLURRY CAN FLY LIKE A PRO TOO WHAT IS THIS CHILD PRODIGY

AND FORCE FIELDS. TWILIGHT COULDN’T EVEN CAST A BASIC SPELL UNTIL SHE WAS 8 TO 12.

I’M GONNA ASSUME IT’S “NEWBORN FOAL MAGIC” LIKE WITH THE CAKES BEFORE THIS STARTS TO HURT MY HEAD

“Sorry bug” Did...Did you just call your niece ‘bug’? Is that her nickname now? Cause that’s twelve kinds of adorable right there. This episode’s becoming really sweet.

I’m also only five minutes in. Wow.

Flurry is acting like a dog and this is wonderful to see. So is her difficulty with winking.

Is...Is this going to be an episode about responsibility vs fun? Didn’t we get that already with Baby Cakes? Plus, wouldn’t an episode like that be more along the lines of Pinkie or Rainbow anyway?

Wait, why are we cutting back to Cadance and Shining Armor...? That’s not right. They should be gone for the rest of the season. #YesImStillSalty

“Is this art or a mistake?” I ask myself that question every time I browse FIMfiction with the mature content filter off.

...Seriously, smut writers come up with some weird stuff sometimes and honestly they scare me.

Also, CADANCE ICONS GALORE

This Spearhead pony is dressed like Trenderhoof 2.0 like talks like he plays football.

Cadance looks so concerned throughout this scene. I feel for her.

Ouch, how does one even clean a ten-twenty-whatever foot tall crystal wall?

TWILIGHT NOW YOU’RE SPOILING THE PONYVILLE FOALS.

The Princess of Friendship is playing racecarts in a store. Is Best Princess still a thing? Cause I found it.

“I don’t think foals would be interested in the ‘Unabridged History in Amulets in Pony Latin’. Are you kidding, I’d totally read that.

...Also, Pony Latin? Alright, I won’t judge. I read Homestuck, this is normal for me. But you couldn’t come up with a horse pun for that?

“Alien Alicorns vs Space Pirates”. Alien alicorns sounds hilarious and I wanna see it.

So Flurry has the ability to hold chalk in her magic well enough for crude drawing? ...Huh. Magical savant here.

Then again, Pumpkin Cake was about to phase through solid objects. Can’t judge here.

So Twilight calls herself the Best Aunt Ever, or “BAE”? Alrighty then. This girl really loves acronyms.

TWILIGHT DONT LET HER STAY WITH THE CAKES THIS IS A HORRIBLE IDEA

...Actually, has anybody wrote fics or anything about Flurry and the Cakes being friends as they grow up? Cause that is a wonderful idea.

“Brb” Text-speak is canon to Equestria, that...is totally inconsequential.

“Hold on, sweetie, we’ll play in a second.” That’s not Sweetie, that’s Flurry!

THE CAKES ARE ON THE WARPATH, THIS IS NOT HOW I EXPECTED THIS TO GO

Pinkie having an apology stamp implies ponies regularly come in asking for an apology cake. I get the feeling that gets a lot of use in this town.

Huh, she’s doing fairly well so far. I’m expecting this to go badly.

FLURRY DONT TELEPORT THIS HURTS ME

As the seasons go on, the Ponyville hospital is suffering more and more abuse.

Woah, she got mad at the baby. I’m...honestly amazed by that. But I’m glad she tempered her anger with an apology and kind words, although I wouldn’t pin the blame on Twilight for ignoring Flurry. Her real crime was taking on too many responsibilities at once, and not knowing which one to give importance.

Also, glad to know the citizens of Ponyville see Twilight as ordinary enough to call her out for her mistakes. No princess preference here.

Well, Cadance just got more scenes in this episode than she has in a long time. Wonder if we’ll see her again soon?

And Spike got another fun scene to himself at the end. Nice.

All in all, this was a fun episode to me! I’m definitely going to have to watch it again (for the icons definitely-), and I loved seeing Straight Man Spike take center stage, and BAE Twilight was too adorable with Flurry. I liked it. Now hopefully I’ll actually wake up in time for next week’s episode...