#I see a lot of people (myself included) have his eyes be blue when originally I think they were more green

[slothcapsule]

Kaeya's design pt.2 (updated until 5.1 because yes, more stuff gets added with updates, his design is that thought ahead)

or maybe im delusional and looking into things way too much! heyy, Me again!! this is gonna be a master post of all the things ive noticed about kaeya's design, ive made one like it before but since then there's been a bunch of new stuff so i decided to make a new post that has everything i have to note. this is complied of things i myself have noticed and things that others have. this post will not include anything about his skin other than noting a couple of significant differences since the outfit wasn't made specifically for him in the scope of the story, but i might cover it in a separate post

kaeya's design mostly consists of "two sides" in a way, his "mondstat" side and his "khaenri'ah" side.

his mondstadt side includes his vision, the full side of his cape in the back, the earring he wears and his rat tail, all this represents the freedom he has in mondstat and the person he grew to be there, a vision bearing knight of favonius.

the khaenri'ah side includes his eyepatch, the wisp of lighter hair in his bang, a clipped cape ("wing") and the majority of the fur coating. i believe this goes to represent that he's still tied to khaenri'ah despite all the time he's spent in mondstadt, and that he's quite aware of it. Also, the glove on that side has a kind of buckle that kind of reminds me of a shackle or a handcuff, as well as this thing with a bunch of eight pointed stars that are not apparent on the mondstadt

all across his design (the boots, corset belt, gloves, little things on the ends of the cape thing he has, his left sleeve) there are bunch of "eight pointed" stars we see associated with khaenri'ah, one being in his pupil which was a confirmed trait to khaenri'ahn people ever since we saw dainsleif.

id like to note that kaeya's eyepatch is stressed on a lot in game. its constantly referred back to most of the time when kaeya is brought up. he has a voiceline about it (that has been changed once in the english version to to a mistranslation i believe, ill include both versions) the first is the current version.

traveler has a voiceline about it where paimon makes fun of it but i think its notable there's a voiceline specifically about it at all.

its mentioned right when we start the world quest "Bough Keeper" where we meet dainsleif. he doesn't even have an eyepatch half of his face is just black it was a stretch in the first place.

kaeya himself dismisses it as nothing unusual.

in his story quest he says he inherited it from his grandfather, which is solid proof that they're related by blood. (his story quest has some crazy foreshadowing btw that predicted that him and the abyss twin are possibly related in some way or another by extensions but i wont get into it here)

there isnt really a solid idea attached to any of this, other than the fact that kaeya's eyepatch is stressed on as a point of intrigue, its pretty implied to be related to his origin of khaenri'ah, and we often see khaenri'hn people with their right eye covered in some way. and to those of you that think that he wears the eyepatch because diluc injured his eye during his fight, no he isnt. it might've been scarred by him yes but he isnt blind in that eye, and in the webcomic it shows kaeya wearing an eyepatch on the day crepus died, before the fight with diluc.

while we're on the subject of his eyes, he's somewhat of an abnormality amongst Khaenri'ahn people. every other khaenri'ahn person we know have teal eyes with their pupil being a bold black star outline, kaeya's on the other hand are a darker blue with a more faded filled in star. i wont include the eyes of every single character to prove my point but trust me i looked at them all. the only exception seems to be pierro but since he doesnt have an in-game model yet and he wasnt shown super clearly in the trailer im unsure what to make of it for now so i wont include it.

one of the first things generally noticed about kaeya's design once you look into it a little is that he somewhat resembles cryo abyss mages, most notably the fur coat he keeps thrown over his shoulder, the "bunny ears" in his hair (ahoge?) but most of the resemblance comes from playstyle.

in playstyle he's similar in the sense that he teleports on his fifth attack, his ult is similar to the icicles they produce after their shield is broken, he produces his own shield at c4 etc.

(EDIT: i somehow forgot including abyss heralds here, which is insane of me considering that i was always under the impression that if kaeya does turn out to be an abyss monster its definitely more likely to be a herald/lector. i dont necessarily think that he is but there are similarities!)

As for abyss heralds, he does also have a similar design element with the Frost Fall one! Despite being a minor similarity i think its worth pointing out , but they do have kind of similar lapel things, the herald has those wing like things both in the front and back , similar to kaeya's "clipped" wings, that appear under the full wing and in the front of his outfit as well

(fun fact, when i found out they're going to release a cryo abyss herald i was so excited and kept prolonging the fight with it in the quest so i can see if it has similar attack patterns to kaeya) (it does, he does a couple slash attacks that look like kaeya's normal attacks)

one crazy thing also is his cape looks a lot like the top part of the celestial nails and the bottom part of the statues of the seven, and weirdly enough parts of paimons outfits.

a lot of people theorize the log in screen is the enterance to celestia, and that the nails in dragonspine and the chasm are fallen pillars from there. for someone from a godless nation its sort of weird that he seems to have that connection to something celestial huh? this part of the design is also included in his special dish in the skewer itself. (he also marks the mushroom with an eight pointed star as opposed to the x on the regular one)

other than celestian, mondstadtian, khaenri'ahn themes in his outfit, he also has fatui ones! on the front side of the cape we can see that it attaches to a fur thing that covers kaeya's lapels. i have no idea how this attaches or if its just thrown on top, but this design choice is distinctly fatui, weirdly enough. specifically in the style of the attire of the fatui harbingers coats or official ware when they're gathered. i related it distinctly to pierro before but after getting a good look at capitano's model its more fatui, though there's some things that are similar distinctly between kaeya and pierro.

most distinctly, the fur and the lapels being in a very similar shape which is the part that's distinctly fatui, the mask/eyepatch over the right eye as well a strikingly differently colored strand of hair being distinct to pierro and kaeya.

there's a kind of gap in the middle of pierro's chest part of the outfit that somewhat resembles the one kaeya has as well. i saw someone point this out on reddit but i cant find the post because it was a while ago but regardless, they brought up the point of it being exactly in the place and shape of where abyss heralds/black serprent knights have an eight-pointed star, which could be a subtle nudge at khaenri'ah as well.

now, i have two ideas of what those similarities could be hinting at.

kaeya is actually a fatui member (which i believe has some sort of merit because of the recent appearances of capitano and some similarties between them in attire and playstyle weirdly enough, as well as a theory ive been getting behind that states that capitano could be/is related to anfortas alberich)

the fatui harbinger design choices are actually inspired by khaenri'ah, which isnt a stretch given that pierro is the founder and director of the fatui harbingers. thus making them look similar to kaeya rather than vice versa.

panning back up a little bit, regarding the silver hair in kaeya, it seems to be expanding to the rest of his hair, in his skin it goes down the length of his braid.

in the webcomic where we flash back to the past a bit, we see kaeya actually doesnt have the little strand of silver over his left ear, as well as when we return to the normal time setting of the comic, its also not included in his icy featherflight splash art (this 100% could be a stretch on my part they could've just forgot about it its a small strand) (while we're talking about stretches, my biggest one is that childe has a similar streak in his hair lol but that might be going toooo far)

last but not least, his vision, one of the most interesting things about his whole characters. a person from a nation that actively defied the gods recieving a sign of their recognition seems like kind of a threat doesnt it? and its all the more ominous that his vision casing is different from every other mondstadt casing!

this is the back of kaeya's vision next to the back of diluc's vision for comparison, the only notable things are the lack of a third wing probably signifying he's sort of out of place, and the swirl? wave? whatever you wanna call it is on the wrong side. every other character with a double sided vision has the swirl on the other side like jean, diluc, mona, eula, lisa (etc..? i havent seen anyone else with a double sided vision which is also interesting, at least from mond)

however!! weirdly enough, in the 3.8 summer event where kaeya gets his skin, his vision actually gets a different casing, as you can see he gets his full three wings, as well as an extra spike! but not really an extra spike because the vision is just on top of another thing that makes it look like it has a third spike, but the wing is actually there. the genshin fashion archive isnt updated with kaeya's skin so i cant check if there's a swirl, even though the vision isnt even double sided in the skin which is also really weird to me.

im pretty sure ive covered most things, if anyone has any additions please let me know! id love to look into them.

i think kaeya is a really interesting character who's incredibly centered around foreshadowing in the way he carries himself and his backstory, so to think that they managed to extend the foreshadowing bit into even his design is a little bit insane imo.

[painting-warhammer]

C’Tan Shard of the Deceiver in the style of Sonichu (CWC)

I lied. This is my favorite figure. Commentary under cut.

#1: Rule Number One Is That You Gotta Have Fun

The other two figures I painted had ups and downs--days genuinely ruined and many frustrated moments where I just hated everything about this hobby and everything I was making. I'm sure this is no strange feeling to any artist, but since I kinda gave up on art over a decade ago only to pick this up after that decade, it really felt like that heartbreaking moment of making something that you know was bad and not improving fast enough.

I never had that for one second while painting Sonichu. I honestly giggled to myself a lot when I worked on him. When something fucked up (note how I didn't make as good of a glowing effect on the eyes) I just took that as "Well, that's just me being accurate to the original art." When something went well, I learned something that I would be able to apply in the future. If you look closely at the quills and the chest, you'll see that this was the first time I tried edge highlighting to get more of a good lighting effect. On top of that, I just used Baharroth Blue without a base paint, but rather as a base paint that I later darkened with a Tyran Blue shade wash for the creases in the sash. I did the same for the skin near on his abs and arms. (I should have made them blue. Damn.)

I also didn't get so bogged down in being accurate to the inspiration, or became better at knowing what to pick and choose. For example: Sonichu doesn't have a sash, of course. Instead, I decided to go with the color of the banner in Issue #0.

There was a point I briefly considered learning how to actually make a decal, then taking the title to be plastered on the front of the model, but I decided against it. I even considered some yellow streaks to give him a bit of a glow, but if you look at the base you'll see some of the experimental wetblending I tried (and would hypothetically cover later) and it just didn't look good.

Also the feet. Sonichu does have a distinct color for his shoes, but I just shrugged and figured it was more correct to just keep it in line with his hands on the model. I made the hands in the hideous style of the Bad Trailer Sonic, and figured the feet would probably follow the same principle. Besides, the sash had enough blue as it is.

#2: Rule Number Two - Just Don't Get Attached, Too

I said I had fun at all stages painting Sonic'hu, and I meant that. The painting part, that is. Gluing was a disaster.

If you're new to the hobby, understand this: Older models, things from the 90's or earlier, are produced using a plastic resin. It's very light gray (left) while the newer stuff has a dark gray tint and is made with a different kind of plastic.

Now Citadel sells ONE (1) glue, pictured to the left. It's a very good glue for the DARK GRAY plastic. It looks like this. Some people use the one on the right, but the listing on Amazon is apparently sketchy as hell and comes empty because they can scam you out of your money since you can't return or refund liquids. So I never fw it; if I encounter it in a hardware store or hobby shop, I'll pick it up and give it a shot.

This is all to ultimately say that in spite of Citadel selling only ONE KIND OF GLUE, that ONE GLUE cannot hold light gray resin figures together AT ALL.

I don't have pictures, but God was it frustrating. Sonic'hu would CONSTANTLY fall apart while drying. I would be holding his arm in place; the head would fall off. His spines would fall off. He'd flop over on his base. Even after priming him, his arm fell off again, and you can see his face is a mess of when my fingers were just covered and glue and I was just holding him in place frustratedly. I tried like three different glues (not including Tamiya, but Krazy Glue was one) and I don't remember which one worked.

However, whether Tamiya works or not, I actually did have to go back to resin on a different figure recently. I went through my old man's drawer and found this.

It's unreal how good this is. Put this on resin, and the plastic itself comes apart easier than the glue does. It also works okay on the dark gray figures, but I've had the odd part come undone and I went back to the Citadel Glue.

Fair warning though--I'm praising this version of Loctite specifically. There are a few varieties, and I can't say much as far as their quality, but I read online that the ones with an extra long cap tend to dry out and be unopenable later. This Gel Control version doesn't give me any problems like that, though.

#3: Rule Number Three - Wear Your Heart On Your Cheek

My only regret is not going harder with this.

There were some gemstones at the bottom of this model and I literally don't remember what happened to them. I was going to paint them like Chaos Emeralds, originally. Then I saw a paint job of the model that had stones encircling the C'tan Shard like he was making them rise up Dragonball style, and the thought came to mind to get little Chaos Emerald replicas to look as though they were orbiting him. (Unfortunately, Etsy pretty much only had them in a set size, and though Sonic'hu was the largest figure I'd worked on, he was too small to have those orbiting around him.)

I also wanted to learn how to model with Green Stuff using this model; there was a point where I considered making the actual sneakers, but more importantly the Pikachu ears and the one additional spine to bring it up to six total. I didn't not want to do that when I bought it, actually, but after the glue had settled after so much effort I was utterly sick of the prep phase and just went straight to painting.

There's also a little Necron that is at the base of the C'Tan that I also haven't painted, but the reason for that is that I am considering how to do the CWC's "The Classic" shirt on his rib cage. I keep waiting for the inspiration to strike.

So that's Sonic'hu. Honestly, having a shitpost figure was something that helped me be a little less afraid of failure and take chances, make mistakes, and get messy. I would resume tryharding by the next figure, and ultimately paint, in my opinion, my best figure yet.

[suzy-queued]

DVD Commentary: These Foolish Games

@stocious asked if I could share behind-the-scenes commentary from These Foolish Games. @shamelessdvdcommentary

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) I wrote it from March through November of 2022. It's a 15-chapter fic, 96,884 words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I love the "Shop around the Corner" scenario where people fall in love via text but hate each other in person. I've only seen versions of that trope where the love portion happens via letters but they remain enemies in real life. I wanted to see what would happen if they were chasing each other in a huge love square. Picture me giggling and saying, "All we want out of Gallavich stories is to see them fall in love over and over again. What if every major character in this story is either Ian or Mickey in alternate forms?!"

What was your favorite scene to write? Hands down, it was chapter 4, when they watched the training video. This Mickey is based on a friend I had in high school named Jason. He and I had health class together, and we'd chat and joke around during class. But two strange things happened: (1) when we were OUT of class, he wouldn't even make eye contact with me. It was like I didn't exist. (2) when we watched videos IN class and the lights would go down, it was like we were dating. He'd hold my hand and lock our feet together and trace shapes on each other's arms. I never knew anyone who could Jekyll and Hyde so quickly between three different dynamics. Were we friends, strangers, or crushes? That history with him churns in my brain, and I wanted to capture how that felt in this story.

How did you come up with the title? I took the title from Jewel's song.

Other working titles included: This Bitter Chase Addicted to that Rush Shock + Awe Rules of Engagement Cock it and Pull it Locked and Loaded Brace for Impact A Shot in the Dark Caught in the Crossfire Come Out and Play Mark and Misfire

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? That every chapter (except one) had a two-word title. I like coming up with chapter titles, and I thought that was fun.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? I painted myself into a corner with the criminal aspect. My notes said something like, "Hector is doing something related to theft in the facility. This theft leads to unsafe circumstances. These unsafe circumstances are serious enough for his franchise to be threatened." I know nothing about trampoline engineering. I know very little about underground markets and precious metals. You don't hear a lot of media coverage of trampoline parks as mob fronts. I visited soooo many sketchy websites and researched what could possibly net Hector a decent enough chunk of change. I read documents about safety liability and franchise law. The takeaway is, anything can be solved with the right amount of research.

You know what was really fun to research? Videos of people doing wall runs.

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? I started with a more dramatic rivalry between the laser tag staff and the bounce center. It was a blood feud, and if you crossed those lines, you'd be dead. It was a life-threatening and tense dynamic, which we as the readers would see as parody but the characters would take 100% seriously. Total noir, Quentin Tarantino vibes. The more I wrote, I couldn't sustain that intensity with a straight face.

Jett was originally "Finn," but I didn't want "NotFinn" to have the same initials as "Noel Fisher." Chara was originally "Samantha."

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this? I never put so much texting into a story! Whew! It was cool to figure out how to do AO3 skins for this story. I set it up so that Ian's texts were always orange and Mickey's texts were always blue. That was done with a skin, so I didn't have to code it fresh for every chapter.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterization, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) I'm most proud of keeping the identities straight. It was … a lot. With all the Shakespearean name swapping, the reader could still follow who was who (I hope).

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line? I can share a little about the process of keeping a long story straight. I made a dossier of all the characters, locations, and scenes as I was going. That way, I could glance at the notes instead of having to re-read entire chapters to find details.

As with all my stories, I hand-wrote this one. I filled three notebooks.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? One trope is that I create art for each chapter. I also like to create logos for each story I make. Here is the full TigerZone logo:

I also create Spotify playlists for all my stories. Here is the one for These Foolish Games.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity? This is my most commented-on and kudoed fic, which makes me so happy. I think it's well-deserved.

Were you nervous or excited to post this story? Yes. The nerves never go away, no matter how much you've written.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story? Here are a few images that show the inspiration as well as what was happening in my life as I wrote it.

Our family (pre-covid) enjoyed laser tagging and trampolining.

We had a tornado and major power outage in 2022, which didn't stop me from writing. We took a trip to Chicago, and I was poking my head into every laser tag arena we saw.

That summer, as I was writing, Noel was in Brooklyn filming The Calling. I also went to Brooklyn, a few weeks later.

After the story was complete, my husband gifted me a printed copy. 😭❤️

This is open to all writers! Pick your favorite story you’ve written or your most popular or the one you think deserves some more love! Or ask your followers to suggest their favorite fic of yours!

Thank you for the ask! This is so much fun. I can't believe how many wonderful friends I made from this fic.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

OC Interview

Slowly but surely, I'm getting through my tags! To spice things up, I'm gonna use my new dnd character for this :)

Were you named after anyone?

"No siree, I'm the only Lady 3250 on this here Rock of Bral. I picked the first part because when I used to serve at an art gallery, before I became sentient, all the finest dressed people signed in as Lady. When I gained awareness, I knew I wanted to be like those people, those walking works of art, so that's the name I picked. It was only later that I realized lady was a title and not a name, but by that time, it'd stuck. 3250 was my old designation. I keep it as a reminder."

When was the last time you cried?

"What a silly question, dahling - can't you see these eyes are made of glass?"

Do you have any kids?

"You just really aren't getting this whole warforged thing, are you? I do not have kids. I suppose I could adopt eventually, but for now, I'm not quite ready to settle down."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Only when I'm in suitable company. Politeness is important, but so is humor in the right crowds."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

"The level of care they put into themselves. A man with clean armor can be expected to be thorough on the battlefield. A mage with an organized spellbook is a mage more likely to not miss anything when investigating an old scroll. I try to surround myself with careful people, though I can't say I always succeed."

What is your eye color?

"A sort of glowing yellow. Like lamplight."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"I feel that horror films can produce a wider array of reactions in the audience if constructed correctly. The moments of fear highlight the times of peace and vice versa, making them both seem all the more potent. It's like a splash of orange paint in a sea of blue."

Any special talents?

"I'm quite the artist. My original medium was sculpture, however of late, I've been experimenting more with spray paint. There's something so intoxicating about art where it shouldn't be. I guess I could say I've also been gaining a talent in talking my way into places I don't belong for that very reason."

Where were you born?

"I was constructed as a non-sentient B2 guard unit on the Rock of Bral, a city floating within the Astral Sea. A merchant by the name of Silvanus Renn bought me to watch over his art gallery, where I spontaneously gained sentience after two years of service. Not that I'm not grateful, but I'm rather curious as to why that happened."

Do you have any pets?

"No, but I've heard tell of spells that grant the caster a familiar companion. I think that would be quite an interesting thing to have at my side."

What sort of sports do you play?

"I... don't?"

How tall are you?

"Seven feet exactly, but I usually wear heels. I might have changed occupation and rewired some of my brute strength towards nimbleness, however, I am still built as a fighter."

What was your favorite subject in school?

"I never went to school. When I gained sentience, I found I suddenly understood much of what I had perceived when I was mindless - including literacy and mathematics. Books filled in the gaps. I imagine if I has gone though, I would've enjoyed learning history. It's the world's greatest story, after all."

What is your dream job?

"I always thought it was working for the Bral Artists' Union, but then the guild leader turned out to be a P.O.S. who kicked me out when I left a rather artful, if anatomically exaggerated, marble statue of him outside the guild in retaliation for his changing of my contract without my knowledge. After I've found what I'm looking for out on the starry seas, I imagine I'd like to come back and start my own guild."

I'll tag @the-golden-comet @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @cowboybrunch and anyone else who wants to play!

Blanks under the cut

Were you named after anyone?When was the last time you cried?Do you have any kids?Do you use sarcasm a lot?What is the first thing you notice about people?What is your eye color?Scary movies or happy endings?Any special talents?Where were you born?Do you have any pets?What sort of sports do you play?How tall are you?What was your favorite subject in school?What is your dream job?

[darling-in-wonderland]

Kill Your Darlings (Redux)

(in collaboration with @twistedchatterbox ‘s event, Spooky Chattering 2023)

AN: If you were one of the five people that read the original Kill Your Darlings, then strap in because this is a reimagining that is way more cracked than it’s archived original counterpart. And if you weren't, well, you're not missing much. This version is leagues above the og and way more fun. Reader is my yuusona, Darling (she/her), who is very in love with Idia (but feel free to live vicariously through her like I do). Other characters in this little (*cough* 7k word) fic include Azul, Ortho, and Grim (with a little bonus scene at the end with Crowley) Vil is mentioned quite a lot, but makes no appearance.

CW: more of a dark comedy than anything, but there are still points of tension, anxiety mention (in response to the tension), feelings of being stalked/hunted, minor injuries/blood, and one (1) fbomb, meaning that it could safely be rated pg-13.

AN2: Also i am super new/unaware of fanfic etiquette so if there's anything i've missed/should label differently/etc, please let me know! now, without further adieu…

It was a day like any other, really. Foggy, but hey, I like overcast weather so I’m not complaining.

“I guess I never realized that the fog here is different from the fog back home,” I muse to Grim while we walk to class.

“Myah? Whaddya mean by that?”

“The fog back home didn’t stick around this much, I don’t think.”

“The fog here isn’t really that sticky, Darling.”

“Whatever you say, Grim.” I give him some pets as we walk. “Also, before I forget, I have Board Game Club after classes today. Remember the plan?”

“How could I forget?” he grins. “You offered me five whole cans of tuna to help you with this scheme!”

After the events of that phantom bride- oh how I hate her still!- I can’t afford myself the luxury of pretending that Idia doesn’t know that I like him anymore. With the lengths (and songs) I went to without hesitation, there’s no way he doesn’t know; but it’s polite to tell him point blank in no uncertain terms. I mean, that’s what you do when you like someone, right?

The plan is that Grim is going to distract Azul somehow to make him late to the club meeting. Hopefully this will mean that Idia and I will be alone, allowing me to tell him how I feel in person without anyone else there to watch.

Before I left the dorm, I made sure to spritz a bit of perfume on me, just something that makes me smell a bit like candy. I’m only thinking of this because I left the bottle on the stairs since I was running late to class, but I’m always running late to these early morning classes. Anyways, I need to remember to put it back in the bathroom when I get home. 

After classes with Grim, we diverge on our separate paths; Grim to distract Azul with some random fetch quest and I to the Board Game Club to confess my love to Idia, though hopefully not in song while holding a heavy flamer this time.

I show up early to the club meeting, jittery and anxious. When I was out there white knighting and wedding crashing, I was so hopped up on anger, adrenaline, and the anxiety that my Sister of Battle armor would run out of battery too soon that I didn’t even notice that I kept singing the lyrics to “A Grave Mistake” wrong. When you meet the girl whose love you stole… Cringe, but I feel more on edge now than then. Why does this of all things make me anxious?

Time refuses to march on to my best nightmare, so I stay frozen in place as I pace the floor.

And then I hear the door creak open, forcefully shaking me from my thoughts and making my heart pound harder. I see the blue flames of his hair before I see him. I sit down and start nervously shuffling a deck of cards to keep from spontaneously combusting.

He eventually notices me and takes off his headphones. He too avoids eye contact. We haven’t spoken much since that phantom bride left. 

“Magic?” I ask him, holding up the cards.

“Uh... sure,” he responds flatly, pulling out a deck of his own.

My brain is on fire, screaming at me to say something. Now is my chance! But I go to speak and find that my lips are welded shut as I draw my hand, only just now realizing that the deck I’m playing is my Ezuri, Stalker of Spheres deck. I feel bad, until I see that he brought his Juri deck and decide that it’s time to destroy him with toxic and proliferate keywords.

He notices my commander and smirks. “Feeling competitive today?”

“I have some things I want to win.”

Our eyes meet briefly and I feel my heart stop. I bury my face in my opening hand, but out of the corner of my eye I see his hair swiftly turning pink.

“Your hair looks purple today,” he stammers out.

“It’s purple everyday.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

The game continues on as normal.

I manage to ask him, “So, what’s your Halloween costume going to be?”

“Haven’t thought much about it yet.”

“Halloween is in four days, Idia,” I remind him. When I say his name, the tips of his hair turn pink. He’s so cute. I still can’t believe he’s single.

“What about you, Darling?”

Hearing him say my name makes my brain short circuit.

“Oh!” I snap out of my daze. “I was thinking Springtrap or Ennard or something like that since the ‘Five Nights at Freddy’s’ movie comes out today.”

“That’s today?” his eyes light up with excitement. Now’s my chance now’s my chance now’s my-

“Yeah,” I smile. “I’ve already made plans to go see it. After this club meeting its gonna be one hour at Pomefiore to cover my arms with nose and scar wax.”

“With Vil?”

“Who else? He’s gonna help with the scars I have to put on the back of my neck.”

“Oh,” he retreats back to his normal energy levels. “That makes sense.”

And there goes my chance.

We finish the game without talking (aside from reading the cards to explain the cards). He won, obviously.

“Get rekt,” he grins. I can feel my cheeks get hot.

“I took a bad opening hand,” I justify my loss to him. I really want him to think I’m good at this game (even though I am painfully mid).

“Yeah, I saw that mana drought.”

“I had Oko, Thief of Crowns, in fairness.”

“Ohhhh,” he remarks sarcastically, “that makes it totally worth it.”

“If it had paid off I would’ve destroyed you,” I threaten him toothlessly.

“Sure you would’ve.” As he fidgets with his life counter, he says, “I, uh... you mentioned that you wish you had more hands to hold things as you cut out patterns the other day.”

“Especially with Halloween coming up,” I lament, realizing too late that he’s probably dropping hints for something. 

He sets the counter down. “Wait here then.”

He glides out of the room as quietly as he entered. I crumple up in my chair. What a wasted opportunity.

When I was younger, I used to spend my free time outside catching butterflies. There was a slight degree of skill that went into it. If you ran up too quickly, the butterfly would get scared and fly away, but if you went too slow, you would lose your surprise and it would fly away then too.

It’s five minutes past. Where is he? My heart is beating out of my chest. What if something happened to him? I should go find him. My anxiety is fueling my paranoia, springboarding me to the worst possible conclusions. Maybe he died, or worse, I already scared him away for good.

It’s been too long. I’ll go find him. I set down my cards and start making my way down to Ignihyde. The halls of the main building are eerily empty. There must be a logical explanation for all of this. I’m bad at time and I haven’t checked my phone in a while, not that it would matter now because I don’t know how long our game of Magic lasted. He’s probably fine. He’s probably fine.

Despite all my logic, I still can’t seem to shake this paranoia. I hear screams of terror wafting down the halls. Film Club must be watching a horror movie for the spooky season. I hope so, at least. Against all good judgment, I push on. I wish literally anyone was here, some big guy who could do the fighting for me if things got tough, like Jade or Floyd. 

Amidst my thoughts, someone grabs my hand and yanks me around a corner.

I shriek and cover my mouth before I realize that it’s just Ortho.

I almost let my body relax, but then I see the fear in his mechanical eyes.

“Ortho?” Panic rises in my voice like bile. “What's wrong?”

“It’s Idia. He’s sick.”

“Oh, is that all it is?” The tension in my shoulders releases, but only a little. “From the sounds of the screams, I thought that gladiatorial games were back in fashion. Where is he? I can help take care of him.”

“Sick isn’t the right word,” his voice is hard and serious as he flits through words in his databank. What has this kid seen?

“What movie is Film Club watching today?” I ask him as some more screams bounce off the walls of main hall.

Ortho looks me dead in the eyes. “Film Club didn’t meet today.”

I hear Idia cackle off in the distance, this time sending chills up my spine rather than releasing butterflies in my stomach.

“Ortho?” I ask, that old fear bubbling up once more.

“Yes, Darling?”

“Do you know what Idia was going to show me?”

“He never told me,” Ortho remarks. “But I did find a word that I think fits better than sick.”

Everything feels prickly and bad. The blood vacates my face as I hear another one of Idia’s cackles in the distance. Of all my worst case scenarios, none were like anything of what Ortho said next.

“Well, what word is it?” I ask him, panic leaching into my voice.

“Possessed. I don’t know what could’ve caused it, but...” His voice trails off, as if he’s having trouble coming up with a proper hypothesis. At least, that’s what I was hoping.

His eyes grow wide, his mechanical whirring hushing. The hand around my wrist clamps harder. The tips of my fingers are starting to turn a bluish purple.

“Ortho?” I whisper. “My wrist-”

I hear the soft tap tap tap of some boots prowling down the adjacent hallway. I can feel the temperature rise with each tap.

“Darling…” I hear Idia’s voice rasp, a mechanical grinding amidst his organic vocals, “I know you’re hiding here…”

My eyes are watering. I can’t turn around. I can’t even blink. My breath catches in my throat. Has he turned the corner? I can’t tell.

By the shadow on Ortho’s face, he must be looming right above me.

Ortho’s tugging on my ever-numbing wrist, a silent plea for me to run, but my body refuses to move from its position. This is my worst nightmare, and I can’t even wake up.

“Seems I’ve found you,” I feel hot breathing on the back of my neck. “And with Ortho, no less.”

I feel his hand land on my shoulder. I can’t even find the voice to scream as Idia’s grip gets tighter on my shoulder.

Ortho yells something I don’t make out and finally yanks me from my spot, flinging me onto his metal back. I cry out in pain as I’m ripped from Idia’s grasp. I feel something cold and metallic and sharp scratch up against my cheek. I hear him howl in frustration as we make our getaway. 

Ortho and I end up hiding out in the empty classroom on the first floor where the Board Game Club meets.

“That’s a lot of blood, Darling,” Ortho remarks.

I reach up and touch my cheek and find that my face is slick with blood. My fingers are covered in the viscous red liquid.

“It’s just a scratch,” I inform him. “It’s not that bad.”

“Are you sure?” Ortho asks me, searching around for something to clean up the blood.

I laugh nervously. “I have more blood than this sitting on my bathroom counter.”

“Isn’t that blood fake, Darling?”

“And peppermint flavored, but that’s besides the point,” I awkwardly wave the question away. “You’re programmed with medical stuffs, right? Do you have a bandaid?” 

“My lab body is back in Ignihyde,” he informs me, “so I don’t have any of my medical supplies.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” I see the Magic cards left abandoned on the table. The panic starts creeping back into my brian. We won’t stay hidden forever. Idia was originally coming back here. “I should’ve told Idia how I felt while I still had the chance.” “What was that, Darling?”

“Nothing, Ortho,” I try to smile. “Nothing.” 

I close my eyes to try and think of a better place to hide, but I keep thinking of what I could’ve said to Idia before he got possessed by... whatever it was that possessed him.

“That’s quite a bit of trouble you’ve got yourself into,” a familiar voice cuts through my thoughts as its owner gently places a bandaid in my hand. “I can help, for a price.”

I open my eyes and see Azul staring back at me. I beam, my eyes starting to well up as he hands me a tissue. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s time for Board Game Club,” he answers, an edge lacing his voice. “Or are you asking about why I was late. I think you know why.”

From the satchel I didn’t notice before now, he holds up a very angry Grim.

“I kept him stalled for as long as I could, myah!” Grim responds, not thrilled about being held by the scruff of his neck.

“Uh, guys?” Ortho asks, but none of us hear him.

“For the band aid stuck to your face and the tissue now covered in your blood,” Azul continues, “all you have to do is tell me why Grim showed up to the Monstro Lounge and started pulling the table cloths off the tables and swinging from the chandeliers once my employees caught on to what was happening.”

“Grim!” I take the mischievous cat weasel thing from Azul to scold him. “I told you to distract him, not trash the Lounge!”

“Guys?” Ortho pipes up, but Azul pays no mind.

The school’s resident mob boss continues, “So, why did you send Grim to trash the Lounge?”

“My plan was to get Idia alone to tell him that I have a crush on him,” I confess to Azul.

“A crush on him?” Azul teases me. “Greaaaat taste there, Darling.”

And then Grim asks me, “Did the plan work?”

I laugh nervously. “Not exactly...”

“Guys!” Ortho yells at us from the open window. “Idia will be here any second! At least according to my tracking.”

“What?” Azul asks, almost offended at the fact that we didn’t tell him something sooner. 

“Idia’s possessed,” I summarize for Ortho.

Grim hops back in Azul’s satchel and asks from there, “Possessed by what? One of the ghosts?”

“We don’t know,” I respond, the panic creeping back into my voice as I remember the problem at hand. 

Ortho pipes up, “Yet!”

I nod hastily, “Yet, yet is good.”

“Guys…” Panic creeps into Azul’s voice like mold. “I don’t think we’re alone anymore.”

That’s when my ear zeros in on the sound of boots on linoleum and something metal scraping against the walls. I didn’t get a good look at whatever he was wearing when I last saw him. Maybe with his new personality he got a new wardrobe, too. I don’t know.

Looks like we’re about to find out as he starts throwing his body against the door Ortho barricaded from the sound of it. The first thud makes me jump, with each subsequent hit causing my adrenaline levels to rise.

“Good time to jump out of the window,” Azul remarks between thuds, “unless we all wanna end up sleeping with the fishes.”

I can’t bring myself to move. The barricades loosen and once again I am frozen. I have to see what he’s wearing. I have to see if anything about his design changed. I have to know what possessed him.

“Henchman!” I hear Grim yell above Ortho and Azul’s pleas, “I command you to follow us.”

The door breaks open.

I catch just enough of a glimpse of Idia, only a mere silhouette surrounded by fiery red with a bloody crimson light from the center of his head piercing through my being; a horrible, horrible glimpse, but enough of a glimpse to will my legs to work again and jump out of the window.

“We should run while we still have something resembling a lead,” I anxiously quip as Azul groans.

“Azul,” Ortho rolls his eyes. “Your only other option is dying.”

Grim pokes his head out. “Can I ride with Ortho?”

“Fine.” Azul hands Ortho the satchel. “It’ll make running easier.”

“Don’t worry,” I clasp a hand on his shoulder, “I know a shortcut.”

We share a smile, but the moment is shattered by a mechanized roar from Idia. “Oh you sussy baka!” Robotic tendrils shoot out from the window, just barely missing us. “Where did you vent off to?!”

I don’t acknowledge what he says, rather grabbing Azul’s hand on instinct as a signal to get him and Ortho to start following me. 

I’m not the best at running, but at least my theatre kid energy makes me better at it than Idia.

“So where are we running to?” Azul wheezes after a few minutes of nothing but woods.

“By the looks of it, Ramshackle,” Grim responds, chilling oh so smugly in his little satchel.

“Narrishackke,” I correct Grim.

“Is now really the time to try and make Narrishackke happen, henchman?”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Azul manages to get out before collapsing against a tree. 

I stop running and ask Ortho, “How far away is Idia?”

He calculates for a second before responding, “Idia will catch up to us in roughly ten minutes.”

“Okay,” I squat down to conserve energy, “so we have some time. We can formulate a proper plan.”

Grim hops out of the satchel and starts pacing. “We have to figure out what’s turned him into such a bloodthirsty monster!”

“Ghosts?” Azul muses.

I shake my head. “Unlikely. He still talks like himself.”

“There were those mechanical tentacles,” Ortho recalls. “And he was wearing some sort of hat.”

Grim rolls his eyes. “So he wanted to be dapper? Big deal!”

I dig deep in my memory for a detail that’s nagging at me. “Ortho, was the hat glowing?”

“There was some sort of red camera lens attached to it,” he replies.

“Like a headlamp?” Azul asks.

“No,” I continue trying to think, “More like-”

I’m cut off by the sound of falling trees and cracking wood.

“I thought you said we had ten minutes!” Azul hisses at Ortho.

Grim climbs back into the satchel and hides.

Ortho looks concerned as he rechecks his math. “I didn’t think he could move that fast.”

“A side effect of this possession?” Azul thinks out loud.

Another roar from Idia shakes the birds from the trees.

“Guys, we’re so dead if we don’t get out of here soon,” I snap them out of their conversation and start running again. Ortho nods and follows close behind me. 

Azul takes too long to get up off the forest floor. At the speed of light one of those tentacles we saw earlier wraps its metallic phalanges around Azul’s wrist. 

“Guys! It’s got me!” he cries, fear lacing his voice like bleach.

I turn to Ortho and tell him, “Take Grim back to Ramshackle. He knows the shortcut.”

“Be careful, Darling!” Ortho chirps before zipping away.

I rush over to Azul who’s still wrestling with the mechanical hand around his arm. 

“You should’ve gotten away while you still had the chance!” he weeps, voice catching in his throat.

“And leave one of my best friends behind?” I remark as I start my attempt to break the tentacle’s grasp. “Fat chance!”

“Do you even have a plan?!”

I continue to stomp on the tentacle, using my foot to create the tension necessary to try and get this thing to snap. “Not at all!”

I survey the scene as it stands. The noises from the forest are getting louder. If I don’t get Azul out of here fast, I can almost guarantee that more tentacles will come for us.

I start trying to pry the fingers of the metal claw off of Azul’s wrist.

“If it breaks, it breaks,” I mutter under my breath.

“I’d rather you didn’t break my wrist,” Azul gripes through the pain. He then takes the cue and helps me pry with his free hand. 

A red glow is coming from the foliage. 

“We’re running out of time!” he cries out. 

“Oh for the love of- Just yank your wrist out!” I scream, my panic getting the better of me.

Azul clenches his teeth and does so. He shrieks in pain as the claws scrape his wrist so hard that royal blue blood starts dotting the ground below. I pull him away from the tentacle and run before it can grab anything else. I lead Azul off the trail, hoping that Idia won’t be able to find us amidst all the trees.

Once the sounds of his jaunt through the woods fade to near inaudibility, I stop running to examine Azul’s injury. His face is pale as tears continue to pour down his cheeks. 

“Good news,” I tell him as I wrap the sleeve of my blazer around the wound, “it looks to only be surface level. Keep some pressure on it and then I can get it bandaged up once we get to Narrishackke.”

“Ramshackle,” he corrects me with a touch of laughter in his tone.

I smile. “I said what I said.”

We move carefully through the woods, only by the Seven’s protection or some unrelated miracle that we make it to Narrishackke before Idia. Ortho and Grim look overjoyed to see us.

“Glad to see my henchman is still in one piece, myah!”

I tell Ortho to take Grim upstairs to keep watch and to bandage up Azul’s wrist.

“But Darling,” Ortho gently takes my cold hand in his, “what will you be doing?”

“Keeping watch downstairs,” I respond solemnly. “We still don’t know exactly what’s caused this.”

“Be careful with him, then,” Ortho cautions me.

I nod and start my vigil. “Nothing would hurt me more than making him suffer.”

Ortho takes Grim and Azul upstairs and I double check all of the downstairs locks. The ghosts seem to be keeping their distance today. I guess whatever this is is too much for even them. I could use their comfort now though.

Why is it that the one day I want something to go right everything goes catastrophically wrong? I can’t even cry properly right now, lest I drain what little moral is upstairs with the sounds of my sobs.

What if we can’t fix him? What if all of this is permanent? What if I can’t put him back together? After all the phantom bride stuff, things were starting to look up. I should’ve just left when he did to start getting ready to go to the movie. I have two tickets. I could’ve invited Vil.

Through my sobs, I start to sing quietly in a futile attempt to ground myself or summon the ghosts to my side, or even just to right this upside down world.

“Is it a crime to kill,” the melody of the song passing through my halfhearted sobs in a heart wrenching staccato. “if we’re only sinking deeper and love can’t stop the fever?”

A knock on the door startles me from my thoughts. I frantically look for something sharp and pointy.

“You open that door and I’ll kill you!” I threaten the person on the other end. I don’t care if it’s Crowley himself, I'll stab if he opens the door.

All I find is a pencil. I’m doomed.

“I finally leave my room,” my best nightmare’s voice scrapes against my ears, “and this is how you react? RUDE.”

He slams the door open, confirming my worst fears.

“Darling!” I hear Ortho call from upstairs. “What’s wrong?”

I can’t even open my mouth to scream as I stand in the shadow of the Prefect of the Underworld standing in my doorway, his halo of fiery red hair devilishly backlighting his face, making him look like a fallen angel. I just start crying again as I shakily hold my pencil out in front of me.

I don’t want to hurt him. He’s not himself. But he’ll hurt me if I don’t do something. But I don’t want to hurt him.

He slowly walks towards me, his boots making a heavy thud with each footfall. I slowly back up towards the stairs. My hands tremble, still holding the pencil pathetically between him and I.

“It’s game over for you, Darling,” he bares his fangs in a twisted grin.

In this moment I understand why moths fly towards candles and burn up in their fiery light, for I too am now a moth staring down a candle, every part of my mothy being crying out to be enveloped by the warm, inviting light. Oh how I’d love to grant my cells their wish and let them collapse in the melted candle wax; but, unlike a moth, I have a job to do. I can’t give up now!

The lens attached to his bowler hat glows brighter, as if a light could be filled with rage. If I try to run now, he’ll just grab me and rip my throat out with his teeth.

“I thought you felt differently about me, Darling,” he continues, “but my eyes have been opened. There’s only one thing that could love me as much as you claim to.”

He continues to advance on me, pushing me up the stairs with his presence.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I ask out of the blue, as if I’ve seen this scene before.

I see a pink plastic cylinder on one of the steps through my tears. A candy scented body spray, within arms reach.

“Oh, I’m not going to hurt you, Darling,” the robotic sheen on his voice makes him sound like a vocaloid. 

I never moved that bottle of perfume back up to the bathroom, and I’d say my life is at least worth the seventeen thaurmarks the bottle cost.

Idia continues, “I’m just going to bash YOUR FUCKING BRAINS IN!”

He lunges at me, but that Shining reference telegraphed his moves so much even I was able to dodge him and  spray what feels like half the bottle of body spray in his face, causing him to recoil and retch. I pump a few more sprays for good measure and bolt upstairs to Ortho, Grim, and Azul.

“I’ve got more info!” I inform them as I lock the door and wedge a chair under the knob.

I was in the middle of redecorating my guest room, which means furniture is rather scarce. Aside from the chair I just wedged under the door knob, the only place to sit is the floor. Thankfully, there’s still places to hide. 

“Well, spit it out!” Grim commands.

“It’s gotta be the hat! Think about it,” I postulate, “first, he tells me he’s got something for me. Ortho, when you found me in the hallway, was Idia wearing a bowler hat?”

Ortho thinks for a second before his eyes widen and his apertures dilate. “Yes, he was!”

“And then something scratched my face as we fled,” I continue. “After that, we started seeing the tentacles.”

“The same ones that scratched up my arm!” Azul exclaims.

“But how is this proof that the hat possessed him and not something else?” Grim asks.

I take time to remember Idia’s exact wording, but Idia beats me to the punch, yelling from down the hall, “Fine! I never needed you, Darling! I’ll just keep this gift for myself!”

“Yeah, that works as evidence,” I remark as he cackles.

“So we have to rip that hat off,” Ortho states. “At least to prove or disprove our hypothesis.”

“I have a plan to get that hat off his head,” Azul announces. “Darling, you’re going to hide and get the jump on him. Us three will distract him so that you can knock his hat off.”

“Any idea what I can knock it off with without braining him?”

Just then, there’s a loud thud against the door.

“No time,” Azul responds. “You’re smart. You’ll think of something.”

I nod and move the chair back to where I decide to hide just as Idia kicks the door off its hinges.

He starts to growl, “There you are, Azul! And Ortho, too. How wonderful.”

“H-hi, Idia,” Azul stutters, eyes wide.

“You don’t appear to be at the club meeting today,” Idia rasps menacingly. “That’s not very poggers of you.”

“I had some,” he shoots a glare at Grim, “things to deal with at the Lounge.” 

“A shame, really,” he sighs maliciously, “because based on that look you gave Darling earlier, I would’ve assumed that you would’ve wanted to hang out with her.”

“What are you going on about?” Azul asks, genuinely confused.

“Don’t play dumb!” Idia shrieks, moving closer to him, and therefore me. “I saw the way she looked at you through Doris. I know what I saw!”

Grim pokes his head out from behind Azul. “Myah? Who’s Doris?”

He grins and gestures to the bowler hat enveloping his face. “She’s Doris. I found her in some storage room around campus. She promised she would help me and she opened my eyes.”

Just walk a little bit closer. Just walk a little bit closer and I can knock that evil thing off of your head.

And then Ortho asks him, “But what does this have to do with Darling?”

Idia whips his head around and focuses on Ortho with laser-like intensity. 

“Darling,” Idia runs over each syllable in his mouth like a flavorless wad of gum, “is a tease. She may act like she likes me, but Doris and I know better. There’s any number of guys she likes more than me. Like Vil,” he turns his attention back towards Azul, “or you.”

Azul sighs, “I’ll have to pay her back for this, but I have photographic evidence that Darling likes you.”

Idia scoffs, “Like I would believe you over Doris! Get pwned!”

I tighten my grip on the chair I’m hiding behind to keep from screaming. You’ll have to pay me back in a lot more than Monstro Lounge drinks if you leak those DM’s, Azul!

At this point, Idia is looming above the still seated Azul. Once Idia’s distracted again, I’ll strike. Now is not the time to miss my chance overthinking everything. 

Azul grins mischievously. I’m almost more terrified of whatever he’ll say next than this “Doris.”

“Okay, so what if Darling likes me then?” Azul asks. “Are you just that terrified of me liking her back? Of the possibility of me treating her better than a loser like you ever could? I mean, if Vil couldn’t keep her happy, then what chance do you have?”

He’s a good liar, I’ll give Azul that. I know he’s lying and I’m still a little pissed. 

Of course, Idia doesn’t take any of this well, letting out a mechanized screech as he lunges towards Azul. 

“Well, Azul!” A new rage alight in the red lens on the hat, “looks like it’s time for you to show the audience your flashback sequence!”

Now! Now’s my chance!

Time feels like a thick jelly as I spring up from behind the chair to knock that hat off of Idia’s head. The sound grabs his attention as he turns to me.

“Found you,” he growls, a devilish smile painted across his face.

Using nothing but momentum and lucky timing, I manage to tackle the unsuspecting gamer and rip the hat off of his head. Before we hit the ground, I fling it into the wall. I can hear it spark and sputter in the background. 

I gently brush his now blue hair out of his face. The tension in his face melts away when he’s asleep. Based on what Ortho’s told me before, this is a rare site to see. His face is so damp. It looks like he’s been crying for an hour or so. Poor guy... 

Ortho taps my shoulder. “Darling?”

“Yeah?” I respond, continuing to brush Idia’s pretty blue fire hair out of his face, gently cupping his face in my hand, running my thumb over his cheek. He’s so... beautiful.

“I need you to get off of him so that I can perform a medical examination,” Ortho continues. “Just to make sure that the hat was indeed the culprit.”

“Oh, right,” I snap back to reality and get up to sit by Grim and Azul.

I don’t talk much. Azul walks me through the recent changes he made to his Urza deck, but it all goes over my head. I hold Grim in my lap and give him pets. I can’t seem to find where I threw that bowler hat.

Idia eventually comes to, given a clean enough bill of health by Ortho. Azul immediately rushes to Idia’s side to apologize for baiting him by calling him a loser earlier, while also telling Idia that he will not be giving him any emotional compensation for it.

I see the way Idia looks at Azul, and I can only wonder if a quiet guy like him could ever want to be with a high octane girl like me. He smiles, and laughs, and takes Azul’s hand. I must just scare Idia. He’s never that calm with me.

It all comes back to butterflies. My heart feels like a butterfly crushed underneath a hunter’s boot.

“You alright, henchman?” Grim asks me.

“I will be,” I respond, dejected.

I get up to go get Idia a glass of water. Seven knows he needs it.

I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it up with tap water from one of the good sinks in the dorm. I should get him a snack, too. So, I set the glass of water down on the counter and rummage around for a bag of chips or something.

I feel a low rumble, like a car driving by, only shorter. Not to mention cars don’t drive out this way. My heartbeat picks up the pace. I drop what I’m holding and look at the glass of water on the counter. There are faint ripples on what should be a still surface. There’s no way... 

As the rumbles become more pronounced, the ripples do too. I start to pray that I’m wrong and that this sound of thunder is only attached to a storm, but there’s no way. There’s no way!

I race back upstairs to the others and blurt out, “There’s a t-rex coming.”

“What are you talking about, Darling?” Azul pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Do you not feel the rumbling?”

“It’s probably just a storm,” he continues.

Ortho pipes up, “According to the local weather report, it’s clear skies for the rest of the day.”

“Well,” Azul tries to save face, “there’s got to be a logical explanation for this that isn’t t-rex.”

And then a mechanized roar like something out of Transformers rocks the dorm. I look out the window.

And I see it. I see the terrible lizard king himself. I see the beast trampling through my forest. And I see it heading straight for us.

“Dammit, Doris,” I hear Idia mumble. “I just needed you to hold sewing patterns in place, not this!”

“Doris?” Grim asks, “What does that cursed hat have to do with this t-rex?”

“She told me that she had a plan if things went wrong,” he continues. “And I guess getting slammed up against a wall counts. I have no idea how she could’ve gotten a t-rex but it doesn’t surprise me that she did. I should’ve known that hat was sus.”

“You didn’t build it?” I ask him.

“I found her in one of the storage rooms. She was broken, and soaking wet, so I fixed her up.”

The t-rex has gotten closer and at this point I can now see the tiny little bowler hat on its massive reptilian head.

It roars again; an earth shattering, mechanical scream as it starts to bull rush the dorm.

I sprint across the hall, too panicked to tell the others to do the same. Thankfully, they all had the same idea I did.

From across the hall, we watch the t-rex smash a hole in the side of my guest room. Note to self: twist Crowley’s arm to make sure he repairs that.

The boys ready themselves to fight this fierce beast. As always, it’s my job to keep them on track.

Grim looks up at me, crackling with excitement. “What’s the plan, henchman?”

“Try not to kill it,” I say, “but if you must, make it instant!”

They ready their pens and start slinging as many spells necessary to take the beast down. 

I was doing my part by singing “Walk the Dinosaur,” since it’s the only dinosaur song I can think of, not to mention a bop.

It was a ferocious battle, with Idia’s defense being the only thing between them and a fate similar to that of the lawyer from Jurassic Park. Azul manages to sharpshoot the bowler hat dead in its lens with a jet of water so pressurized you could powerwash the grime off of Narrishackke with it. The thing eventually roars its last as it is soon felled by my team; falling to the earth with a thunderous crash. We go out to investigate, but the hat is nowhere to be found. 

I examine what I thought was a corpse of a t-rex, only to find that it’s somehow only been knocked unconscious.

Azul sees the gleam and my eyes and asks me, “Do you want me to shrink the t-rex down for you so that you can keep it as a pet?”

I nod rapidly. “I’m gonna name him Nathaniel.”

“Of course you are,” Azul sighs. “This won’t be cheap, you know.”

“I figured,” I say as I text him an IOU. “Next time I have my wallet, come talk to me.”

He nods and starts getting to work. Grim and Ortho wander off to continue looking for the hat, but I have something more important to do.

“So... Idia,” I slide up next to him, wringing my hands anxiously, “ I know you said earlier that-”

“When I had the hat on?” he cuts me off, voice pinched. “Darling, whatever I said about you when I was possessed by Doris, just, pretend I never did.”

Now’s my chance now’s my chance now’s my-

“Then, would you like to come see the ‘Five Nights at Freddy’s’ movie with me?” I ask him. “I originally bought two tickets, and you’re the only person I know that cares about this series as much as me.”

His hair turns bright pink tip to root. I can practically see the 404 error screen plastered on the walls of his mind right now. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude!” he finally exclaims. “You probably bought that ticket for someone else!”

“I did,” I confess. “For Grim. Because I was going to drag him along if you said no.”

“But you said you were going to get all dressed up for this.”

“Plans can change, and if we leave now we’ll arrive just in time.” I smile, extending my hand for him to take. “And I’d rather have you there than some nose and scar wax.”

He grins; nervously, excitedly, dreamily. He smells like candy. He gently takes my hand, as if I’m a Warhammer model he’s afraid of breaking or an unsleeved Black Lotus card. His hand is so soft, and warm, and wonderful. I’m holding his hand! I could cry if I wasn’t already so giddy.

I see a moth flying away in the distance towards some unknown light. I smile. The dust from the t-rex is still settling, making everything look hazy and dreamlike. And yet, I’m so lucky. Eat your heart out, Eliza! Eat your heart out, Doris! Eat your paradoxical heart out, Eckles!

The next day, Azul and I meet up to talk to Crowley about what is to be done about Narrishackke.

“Oh! So that’s what happened yesterday afternoon,” Crowley laments. “Has the press caught wind of this?”

“Not yet,” I respond, still worn out after the events of yesterday.

“We’ll leak it if you don’t answer some questions first,” Azul applies some pressure.

“Ortho did record everything,” I state.

“Fine, fine,” Crowley reclines in his office seat. “What is it you would like to ask?”

“First, where the hell were you?” I ask, doing my best to censor my language.

“Oh, well I was in my office. I initiated lockdown mode when it notified me that there was a prehistoric creature roaming the woods.” He smiles. I can feel my blood pressure spiking.

“How nice for you,” I respond, pissed.

“Next question,” Azul takes the floor. “What was that hat Idia found?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know,” he sighs. “I would check the library or ask one of the ghosts if you really care.”

“Okay, final question,” I ready my statement, “what are you going to do about the damage Nathaniel caused to House Narrishackke?”

“Narrishackke?”

“She means the ramshackle dorm building she and Grim are living in,” Azul pipes up. 

“And I named the t-rex Nathaniel,” I state proudly. 

“I’ll just give you a blank check,” he says quickly, exasperated. “Aren’t I just so generous?”

I take the blank check from him, “Yeah, generous works.”

After we leave the office, Azul asks me, “So what else are you gonna charge Crowley’s card with?”

“Whatever it takes to deck out a room for Nathanial,” I beam. “And an Emrakul, the Promised End.”

“Why?” he asks me, baffled. 

I smirk. “I still have to beat Idia in a game of Magic.”

[beastsovrevelation]

I said I have 4 storylines of Good Omens fanfiction (including the Crossover with Legion). Had I said that today, I would've lied. There's five.

["Diary entry" under the cut, so there's no litany on an unwilling scroller's feed]

NOTE: I haven't seen S2 of GO, not do I intendt to, so beware of canon divergence

Well... The 5th one is less a coherent storyline, more a concept. I was playing Gardenscapes, and suddenly thought "What if F!Crowley were my Antichrist's mother?"

You know, maybe Crowley owed Satan a new Antichrist, or something. I guess, she'd have screwed up this one, too... Well, she'll gladly take over the world, she just won't destroy it.

The conversation (between myself and myself) went about like this:

Me: ...

Also me: what if?..

Me: for fuck's sake, not again

Also me: Lady Crowley...

Me: please stop

Also me: Was Maxine's mother?

Me: whyever would she be her mother?

Also me: because she owed Satan for the ruined Apocalypse, and had to carry the next Antichrist

Me: Maxine doesn't want the Apocalypse, she's a sane politician

Also me: works for Crowley

Me: she also has black hair and blue eyes

Also me: Satan has black hair and blue eyes, Benedict's not his faceclaim, anyway

Me: fine, why would her last name be Frost?

Also me: Satan goes by Lucian Frost on Earth

Me: why would he ever go by the surname Frost?

Also me: a not to Dante's Inferno

Me: I hate you

Also me: 🤪

Me: you're killing me

Also me: with pleasure 😊

[End dialogue.]

Now, like I always do with any new idea, I of course collapsed down into the daydreaming pit, which often turns fanfiction, and original stories alike, into Tolkien-level complex universes you'd need a lifetime to fully explore.

I thought, it could be funny. When Max meets Anathema and Newt's daughter Agnes in Oxford, they can bond over their unhinged families.

"You'll probably think my parents are weird as fuck, they have a pet raccoon they dye black, and pretend is a cat."

"Honey, no, I get you. My mother mentally abuses her house plants, and wears sunglasses at midnight."

Rich people things, I guess. I mean, they're both nepo babies, who would ask questions about why their families are weird. Who would ask questions about why a rising star politician's mother mentally abuses her house plants.

There's a lot of potential for comedy. Crowley's issues with her sister-in-law, for example. Satan and Michael... They have a strange dynamic. The last time they spoke to each other is mentioned in the Book of Jude. But, they both have the familia ante omnia, blood is everything mentality. They support each other's political aim. They would kill for each other. And, Michael feels very protective (possessive, even) over her niece (the family mediator, why do you think she's a perfect diplomat). It would annoy the Hell (Heaven?) out of Crowley. Still, in the end, she and Michael would probably kill for each other, also.

I'd imagine Satan forbidding any contact with his disowned son... I don't know. In my fanfictions (where he is a thing), Maxine and Adam usually do have eventual contact, and consider themselves siblings (do keep in mind, though, Max would always choose her father over her brother). Satan doesn't mind her not wanting the Apocalypse, as long as she's loyal to him. He sees good points in her arguments against. He never really cared for it, anyway, it was mostly the armies.

Also... Maxine rides horses, ever since she was a child. Crowley doesn't get along with animals, everyone knows that. But. She's the nightmare equestrian mom (think soccer mom, only worse - much worse). How does she get along with Max's animals?.. Well, Titan (the hellhound) actually likes her. Ulysses (the horse) tolerates her. Horus (the falcon - yes, Max's so posh she's in the falconry hobby)... I have no idea. He'd probably sit on her shoulder, sometimes. But, Crowley's anxious around him, since snakes aren't usually friends with raptors.

At first, I thought about conflict between Crowley and Maxine. For example, her refusing to ride in the Bentley, because she (every author must place pieces of them in their characters) despises Queen. But... I don't like writing that. I like writing loving, healthy relationships between mothers and daughters. So, it's more "What do you mean you're bad at being a demon? You caused the Fall of Humankind. None of them can compare to you", and"You'll be the perfect Secretary-General of the United Nations, honey". We love mothers and daughters supporting each other here. ❤

I even thought of cute scenarios, like Crowley coiling in Max's crib, because she's anxious, and wants to protect her baby.

Max is fiercely protective of Crowley. That's why she'd be in conflict with Beelzebub - funny enough, for a similar season to the other stories (Beelzebub causes the death of her adoptive mother, after she realizes she's raising the Antichrist). Beelzebub hates Crowley, and the Beast of Rev. will show her very sharp teeth, should someone threaten her mom. Satan's on his family's side, don't worry.

Actually... You know why this story is cool? Horrific things happen to Crowley in my other fics. Not this one. Actually, she's doing great. She's the Queen of Hell. Damn... She'd outrank Beelzebub. She could terrorize... Her? Like I said, I haven't seen S2, Ι don't know the pronouns, and I don't care, you can get them right if it matters to you (I just know in S2 an actress from Bridgerton played her (?)).

As for Satan/Crowley... As long at Crowley's female, I don't mind it. I like it. Good for you, you little serpent tempter. Because, you know I always romanticise the Devil.

Have I any ideas for smut? You bet I do. I even have crack ideas... You know that picture of a female wolf protecting a male wolf's throat? Think that, but Crowley's coiled around Satan in her snake form, and snaps at anyone who wanders close.

So, I let this out into the web. Now I'll have to actually do it. Wish me luck. 😑

[google-searchhistory-official]

why are you a furry /nj

Ahem. tldr; Pokemon made me a furry

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Blue Rescue Team introduced me to the idea of pretending to be a different species after I did the personality quiz plus it gave me a fondness for absol. I consumed more pokemon media including online webcomics. Most notable of which was stupid short eevee comics which had a tumblr askblog linked. And I wanted more content from the comic so of course I made a tumblr. I drew myself as an umbreon which ended up becoming his own character of my main blog @storm-eye-the-umbreon

I wanted to do my own pokemon story so I changed my main into one but almost immediately lost motivation to draw for it. But because of that decision I felt uncomfortable reblogging unrelated items to that blog and made a sideblog @interabsol and drew my current pokesona of Inter. A permanent megasol with little variation at first. That blog handled much of the mass reblogging I currently do on this one and introduced me to a few new blogs.

The itch to roleplay began so I did under my pokeblogs. Then... It began. Just a simple editing battle between a person pretending to be Reece's and one pretending to be Kitkat. Thus the Candy Wars started and mass roleplay with lots of cool people began. I could not choose a candy so instead I made a pepsi drink rp blog. Others did similar things with other brands and spawned the brandom.

I had been aware of furries prior to this but they started to take up more of my dash than pokeblogs and I figured I would eventually make a proper fursona. I had no direction to go in so I continued roleplaying and building lore for my characters, adding furry elements in here and there despite the brandom's incessant need to follow Supernatural type worldbuilding. I originally was leaning towards fox until the brandom's decline. Less and less roleplay was happening but RoosterTeeth had just release season 1 of camp camp and I noticed a few roleplay blogs popped up for it.

A lot of those campcamp blogs were titled character(s)-search-history. And thus this blog was born. Using a brand name with the official title in url plus searchhistory. The reason my description says "not actually official" is because Reeses or Kitkat got sniped by the actual company for false impersonation and every brandom/candy war blog put something similar to continue roleplaying without legal threat. Anyways I roleplayed as the actual google search engine for a bit but as it was with my pepsi blog, I filled this blog with reblogs at first related, then not at all. Some reblogs were from the mods of brandom adjacent blogs who followed me here.

This blog becomes a reblog blog interspersed with personal posts and random musings. One such musing after I had a good chunk of followers was, 'can someone make me a fursona' and one of my followers did. Google cat who you see in my icon and header was designed by @/doeskies here on tumblr and I have loved him since. But... He always felt as a mascot to this blog and not a proper fursona.

So I mused again and asked, 'what species should my new fursona be' and someone said lucario. @/Strinisaur on the same post replied bunny. I futzed around with creating a hybrid of the two and made Rya

But whatever my initial idea for her was, I'm glad it became what she is now. Her design was further solidified by the drawing Strini made of her that is currently my pinned post and this one below drawn by @/exculis

The drawing i made of her was with my own cutesy style that i could draw fast in. But I wanted more to her and so I drew this next and the fanart in response helped ground everything I wanted her to look like.

Of course in that first image you can tell what I was playing and listening to when I created her. Power metal and DOOM ETERNAL. So of course I wanted my jackalope sona to be a jackedalope, which the above image tried to convey. And it did!

Exculis drew a wonderful pinup of her that I won't show here but it helped me know how I wanted her to look. And so I drew a suggestive picture trying to get close to the bodytype I had seen, also not showing here. But the back and forth on art solidified Rya as my fursona outside of this blog and my pokeblogs.

I mean, just look at her!

drawn by @/exculis

That red outline one was actually inspired by my own drawing of Rya in Jessica Rabbit's outfit

So, yeah. Pokemon got the ball rolling for me to become a furry and all my sonas were sort of a collaborative experience except inter. Inter came about because I became aware of my anxiety and absol seemed the best 'mon to represent myself.

[witchthewriter]

Hey darling! May I request a ship from Stranger Things & The Maze Runner? I honestly don't know how many posts I reblogged from your account but ig level 2/3 ship is good?

My pronouns are she/her. I’m 20 and bisexual.

Let's start with looks; I'm 5'4, average built, with pale skin, greenish blue eyes, and copper curly hair styled in a shag. My general vibe is vintage/retro femme fatale. High heels and alt looks are my trademark. I've been told I look mean and scary when you first meet me.

Now for personality; I'm confident, flirty, chaotic, short-tempered (might or might not have anger issues), protective, self aware, creative, prideful and reckless. It takes a lot for me to trust people, so I keep my circles small. I got big mom vibes. I'm very well spoken (in four languages, mind you) but I cuss a lot. I'm a literal clown, and the kind of person who will give you good advice but will go dumb when it comes to myself. I can't take things seriously, like, EVER. The levity with which I tackle serious topics gets my friends on their nerves. Ig it's worth mentioning that I'm spiritual and prone to prophetic dreams about catastrophes and deaths?

I'm a Slytherdor, ENTP 8w9, and a Sag Sun, Sag Moon, Scorpio Rising. Can come off as Chaotic Neutral but my true alignment is Chaotic Good.

Hobbies include anything art-related (drawing, makeup, sculpting, etc) dancing, writing, reading, listening to music and baking. I HATE slow walkers, bullies, and condescending people.

Idk if this is too much or too little 💀 jesus christ, ok, That's it. I hope you're having a great day! Thanks in advance♥️

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

Thank you so much! And thank you for your patience xx Your information was absolutely PERFECT, it made it so easy to ship you. I literally didn’t have to think that hard either-

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒏:

✧ Sarcastic ✧ Witty ✧ Self-assured  ✧ Confident 

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬  

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Steve Harrington! I think you would hate him at first; his reputation as a popular jock was rampant around town. You hated anyone popular, and hey - it was the 80s. That’s practically where all the stereotypes originated from. So how were you to know that he was any different?

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Bumping his shoulder into yours and you do it back harder 

・ You may think you’re the mum friend but Steve will out-mum you EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. 

・Picking you up and dropping you off - alWAYS. His gf will never EVER use public transport if he can help it

・Basically being Dustin’s parents ... and Eddie is like the cool Uncle that takes him off your hands when it’s date night 

・ Relationship Tropes:

✧ “The fuck did you do this time??!” (Steve) x “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING” (You)

✧ Chaotic Dumbass (You, and this isn’t an insult - just a trope!) x Chaotic Dumbass Enabler (Steve)

✧ Idiot Badass x Angry and Impressed By It

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Minho!!! You would have such a flirtatious, sarcastic, and banter-ish relationship. Everyone would see through this hate-love thing you first had on; where you would insult each other relentlessly but it was only to hide your true feelings. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・His pet names for you are, ‘twinkle toes,’ ‘trouble,’ ‘babe.’

・Your chaotic and short-tempered nature would keep Minho on his toes. He loves how passionate you are, and couldn’t see himself with anyone else. 

・Being able to stand up for yourself but Minho beats you to it. It’s like he’s always keeping an eye out for you...

・Randomly biting him and he’s gotten so used to it that he reacts with, “love you too babe.”

・ Relationship Tropes: 

  ✧ Rivals > Forced Acquaintances > Reluctant Friends > Good Friends > Lovers

  ✧ Benedick and Beatrice (from the Shakespeare play, ‘Much Ado About Nothing) please, please look it up. It is my favourite movie and the relationship dynamics are perfect for you and Minho.

  ✧ Epitome of ‘Shut Up x Make Me’

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[miraculouswolf99]

Grand Festival Showdown

The Miraculous gang as Pokemon trainers. All of them are the same, but their dreams have all been modified to include pokemon. Kagami, Kim, Alix, and Ivan are all battlers. Marinette, Adrien, Luka, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Lila all do contests. Juleka, Rose, and Mylene all do showcases. This all takes place in the Sinnoh Region.

Includes my favorite Lila Salt as well as Alya Salt.

My original characters are included in this story as well. Lyon being a champion grand coordinator, Vallia being a pokemon nurse in training, Apollo is a contest contestant, Mason being a gym leader, and Lena is a friend to the twins.

This is a long one, about 6000 words, so buckle up people.

*****

If there was one thing that Adrien loved, it was competing in pokemon contests. Since his father usually forced him to model for his fashion company, he appreciated the beauty that he saw in the pokemon that his father made matching outfits of for the photoshoots. And from watching the Pokemon League on television, he definitely also knew that they had power. So contests were the perfect blend of how he saw pokemon as the beautiful and powerful creatures that they were.

Not that his father even knew that he participated in them. Gabriel Agreste wanted his son to be a proper heir to Gabriel Pokemon Fashion. And that did not include anything involving contests, battles, or even showcases. He forced him to do all kinds of photoshoots, had him model with humans and pokemon alike, not to mention the fact that he would not have gotten his starter pokemon had he not sneaked out of the house. But he did it anyway, and his adorable Turtwig had managed to evolve into a Torterra.

But if there was one mistake that Gabriel made, it was letting him have lots of privacy. There may be cameras outside his bedroom door, but none inside of his room. That certainly helped when he had to sneak out to meet his friends, capture more pokemon, train his pokemon, or compete in a contest that was nearby. Plus, he also was able to sneak away to contests that were in the same town as a photoshoot that he was doing. He just had to lie and say that he was staying in his hotel room for a few hours. His life may have been mostly controlled, but that did not mean he was not sneaky when he was getting what he wanted.

Since contests were televised, he did have to keep his father from finding out. So he donned a disguise. He became Cat Noir, a mysterious pokemon contest prodigy that no one knew the real name of.

Only three people knew about his second life as Cat Noir. His best friend Kagami, who shared the same type of sheltered life as he did but she preferred battles to contests, and his other two friends Lyon and Marinette. Lyon is one half of a set of twins, his sister currently working under a Nurse Joy in order to become a pokemon doctor, and he was already a top coordinator back in his home region of Kalos. Marinette is a coordinator like him and also came from the Kalos region like Lyon, but she is usually shy and also has desires to become a pokemon fashion designer.

He had met Kagami during one of the social events they were both forced to attend by their parents. They got along great and both had the same desire to be free. If they were in the same town, which happened more often than one would think, they would often use each other as an excuse to sneak away for a gym battle, contest, or training with their pokemon. He met Lyon by chance when he had been training and his Turtwig almost hit the Top Coordinator with a razor leaf gone wild. Lucky for him that Lyon was a lot more down-to-earth than one would expect from a person with as much success as him while he was so young. Marinette, being a fellow coordinator, had been at a contest which she had lost to him. She had seen him take off his Cat Noir mask and recognized him from his father's magazines. She had been a great friend to him and understood why he used the mask.

There were few things that could actually make him smile so carefree other than contests. His constant photoshoots, dealing with stuck-up models, and his seemingly careless father did not make him smile that way. He hated modeling and even though he loved being all the pokemon that he modeled with, he wanted to see pokemon just as free as he wanted to be. He wanted to be famous for working hard like legendary trainers Ash Ketchum, Gary Oak, and Steven Stone. Or coordinators like Fantina, Wallace, and Zoey.

But he was now was at the top pokemon contest of the Sinnoh region. The Grand Festival. He had earned his ribbons and now Cat Noir was at his first Grand Festival. What he looked forward to most of all was that he knew that Kagami was going to be in the audience, Lyon was a special guest, and that Marinette was also competing.

He did not like the idea that he might have to battle his friend at some point, but these things do tend to happen. Especially since he was also aware that other friends of his had also made it to the Grand Festival. They had all attended the same pokemon school before it was time for their journeys to begin. He knew his friends Luka, Nathaniel, and his childhood friend Chloe were also all competing.

So, he was just getting ready backstage before all of them would have their qualifying performances before the battle rounds started. He was in his Grand Festival outfit of a black suit with green details, a black and green coat with a cape-like back, shiny green dress shoes, "cat claw" gloves, his signature cat-eye mask, and fake black cat ears on his head.

"My, my, don't you look fancy," Adrien heard near him.

The model almost jumped out of his skin but calmed down when he saw that it was just Lyon. And from looking at him, he definitely saw why people called him the White Wolf.

Lyon was in an icy outfit that almost gave him the illusion of having his own ice powers. He had on a fancy white vest over a blue short-sleeve silk shirt. It matched the white pants that he wore with his shin-high blue boots. He also wore a white hooded cloak with snowflake designs all over it. On his lower arms were silver arm-band bracelets with snowflake and wolf designs on them. His midnight-black hair also had fake wolf ears in it.

"Oh, Lyon," Adrien let himself breathe again. "For a second, I thought my identity had been discovered."

"Well, you may need to get a little better at hiding when you change," Lyon chuckled. "If you win and become Top Coordinator, the press will be even more ruthless with trying to find out your identity."

"I deal with the press on a regular basis already, Lyon," Adrien reminded him.

"Yeah, but I can tell you from experience that when it comes to being a Top Coordinator, people pay more attention to us," Lyon said.

"Well, I can see why that would happen with you," Adrien not-so-subtly flirted with him.

"Careful, kitty," Lyon teased him. "Wouldn't want the wolf to eat the cat before his big performance."

Adrien chuckled, always having liked how they could always joke around with their chosen performer names of cat and wolf. There were so few people that he could act like himself around and he certainly enjoyed Lyon's company.

"So, you here as just a special guest or also as a surprise judge," Adrien asked him.

"My dear Cat Noir, now that would be telling," Lyon smirked as he teased the teen coordinator.

"Oh, thank Arceus that I found you," they both heard a female voice.

They both turned and saw Marinette running toward them. Lyon recognized her from pictures that Adrien had sent him and of course, Adrien would recognize his best friend even if she was decked out in her Grand Festival dress. Probably a dress of her own design as well.

She was in a beautiful dress that was in a ladybug design with a little pink mixed in. It was a knee-length dress that was mostly red with black spots all over it. Under it was a crinoline that was colored pink that helped her dress by more poofy. The sleeves of her dress were elegant bell sleeves that ended at her elbows and lower arms instead of her wrists. Her hair was also extended and placed into a long ponytail coming from the top of the back of her head with roses tied where the ponytail started. On her feet were red wedge-heel boots that went up to her knees.

"How you can run in those heels is beyond me," Lyon said.

"Especially given that one of the first things that you told me about yourself was that you are extremely clumsy," Adrien added.

"Well, I was running with a purpose," Marinette said.

"That purpose being to find one of us if what you had said means anything," Lyon says.

"It's about Adrien, or rather Cat Noir really," Marinette said.

"Oh, great," Adrien sighed, having expected the fame of his mysterious identity to cause some type of drama at the Grand Festival.

"Do you remember when I was telling you about that liar, Adrien," Marinette asked him.

"Yeah," Adrien nodded. "Lila is what you told me her name was. The girl that lies with every breath she takes and has an ego bigger than a Wailord."

"Well, she somehow got her five ribbons and is going around telling people that she knows who you are," Marinette tells her friend.

"What," Adrien's eyes widen.

"Not just that," Marinette continued. "She is also saying that she is dating you and you're apparently head over heels for her."

Adrien could not help but facepalm when he heard that.

"Here comes the headache that I did not know was going to happen," he groaned.

"Here's some aspirin," Marinette gave Adrien the medicine. "I thought that if the liar managed to get here, I would need some myself. I've already had three headaches because of her. And that is just today."

"Am I missing something," Lyon asked.

"Yes," Adrien said before popping the medicine into his mouth.

Marinette rolled her eyes as she took the liberty of explaining.

"Lila Rossi is a pathological liar that I ran into after I won my first two contests," she says. "At first, I had believed her tall tales until she said that she knew the designer for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale."

"MDC," Lyon raised an eyebrow. "As such a private designer, I highly doubt that a random girl would know her. Especially if she is bragging about it to anyone that will listen to her."

Marinette nodded. "Exactly. So I then immediately knew that Lila was nothing but a liar. Especially since she said that MDC is a boy when anyone with common sense, and access to the internet, know that MDC's only given clue to who she is that she is a she."

"Yet, people actually believe her," Lyon put a hand on his hip.

"As I said, she is a pathological liar," Marinette says. "One that uses people's knowledge to make her lies sound realistic. Like how my friend Rose is friends with Prince Ali, and my boyfriend Luka is Jagged Stone's son, and even how Adrien is Cat Noir. Lila uses people's own experiences to give her lies credibility. Like a situation of 'if I can know celebrities then so can she."

"Weirdly enough, I can see how that makes sense," Adrien said.

"What can we do about her," Lyon asked. "Can we just have Adrien call her out as Cat Noir?"

"Since Adrien has to keep his identity a secret, she could just pull out another lie about him protecting her or that they got into a fight," Marinette said. "It's how she explained when MDC posted on social media that she had never met Lila before."

"This is gonna be a disaster, isn't it," Adrien guessed. "There is no way someone like how you describe Lila would go down without a fight."

"She may be lying, but won't she lie herself into a corner," Lyon asked. "Especially if 'Cat Noir' actually does enter a relationship."

"The problem is the damage that she can cause along the way," Marinette said.

"Trust me, I was on your train of thought as well until Marinette explained things more to me," Adrien said. "Lila is not just lying about herself, she is also lying about what she can do for others. Saying that she can put a good word in for people to get certain jobs, internships, or futures in careers that they want. When it actually comes time for them to her to fulfill those promises, a lot of people will be met with disappointment. Plus, with her promising these things, they will not apply to other jobs, colleges, or internships on their own. It would take a long time for them to recover from her lies."

"I see," Lyon understood what they meant. "Guess this just gives me more reasons to not come out in public more if I have to deal with people like her."

"She hasn't happened to make any lies about Lyon, has she," Adrien asked Marinette.

"Well, she apparently was trained in the art of contests by Lyon and was supposedly the muse that inspired him to chose his 'White Wolf' look," Marinette said.

"And... now I have a headache," Lyon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Here you go," Marinette handed the top coordinator some aspirin.

"Thank you," he took it immediately.

Adrien had known Lyon for quite a while now. Lyon had come from a rich family just like he did. But while he had been almost forced to model, Lyon's parents let him choose his own path. He was known for being the youngest ever grand coordinator out there. But since he had met him, Adrien also knew that Lyon generally was very humble and kind, but was basically an ice prince to anyone that tries to use him for their own gain.

So if Lila was not in trouble before, she sure was going to be now that Lyon knew about her lying about him. And that was troubling enough without Lyon's twin sister, Vallia, hearing about this. She might have the nickname of the Flower Princess and might be trying to become a Pokemon doctor, but that did not mean she was not dangerous on the battlefield.

"If she is still telling lies, I am guessing that she still has her regular audience," Adrien looks at Marinette again.

She nodded sadly. "Alya is still her most loyal sheep and there are also a lot of other friends of ours that are under her spell as well."

Lyon looked at the two with a raised eyebrow, silently asking for more details.

"There are times where I can escape photoshoots even if I do not have a contest to sneak off to," Adrien explained. "I would meet up with Marinette as much as I could and she introduced me to a lot of her friends. I have especially gotten along well with Nino, Kim, Juleka, and Marinette's boyfriend Luka."

"And before Lila came along, my friend Alya was my best friend," Marinette said. "I went to our town pokémon school with them before we all started our journeys. But when Lila showed up with all of her tall tales and false promises, they follow her like sheep following their shepherd. Most of my old class is under her spell. Only Adrien, myself, Luka, Kim, Juleka, and our other friends Nathaniel, Marc, and Kagami know that she is nothing but a liar."

"Alya used to be a reporter hopeful," Adrien tells Lyon. "She ran a very popular blog about up-and-coming battlers and coordinators. But then Lila came along with her tales and now most of Alya's blog is about her. She basically takes Lila's words as gospel and attacks anyone that so much as even hints that they think that Lila is anything less than a perfect angel."

"Wow," Lyon gasped. "This girl sounds worse than an angry Darkrai, and you never want to run into one of those."

"Yeah, Lila is a piece of work," Adrien sighed. "She really needs to be silenced before her tales get someone into trouble."

"Yeah," Marinette said. "She has been saying how Jagged Stone wrote a song about her and that Clara Nightingale stole dance moves from her. Those types of lies can ruin their careers."

"Well, I have no secret identity," Lyon says. "She won't be able to lie her way out of me saying that I have no idea who she is."

"Just be careful how you explain how you heard about her lies," Adrien warned him. "Lila has been trying to turn people against Marinette because she knows about her lies. At a few past contests that I had won, I heard a few other coordinators insulting her all because of lies that Lila told about her."

Lyon looked disgusted by the behavior. Coordinators and battlers were both very large families. Yes, there were some bad seeds in each family, but this girl was something way beyond a bad seed. How can one person just be such a selfish liar that she is willing to ruin another person's life just because they did not believe their lies?

But before they could continue their conversation, an announcement was made over the backstage speakers. It was for the coordinators that were competing to get ready since the first round was going to be starting soon.

"Just do your best, you two," Lyon tells them. "And if that liar gives you any trouble, she won't be much of an issue for much longer."

With a "Whoosh" of his cloak, Lyon left to go down the hallway. He had his own business at the Grand Festival that he needed to take care of before he would be able to help his friends.

"He always did like to make dramatic exits," Adrien chuckled.

"I just hope we actually won't have to deal with Lila for much longer," Marinette says.

The two of them went the opposite way down the hall, to the locker room where the contestants have to stay when they are not on stage. Adrien went to the side and leaned against the wall to keep up his appearance of the mysterious and quiet Cat Noir. Looking around the room, he noticed some familiar faces. Like Marinette had gone to stand next to her boyfriend, and fellow coordinator, Luka. There was also her friend Nathaniel and his boyfriend Marc along with her former friend Nino, Alya's boyfriend. Adrien also noticed his childhood friend Chloe as well and, unfortunately, Lila.

Soon, on the screens, appeared Marian, the usual contest announcer for Sinnoh. And from the audience that was seen in the background, Adrien could make out Kagami in the crowd as well as Alya. He was surprised to see Kagami there, but it was a very welcome surprise.

"Welcome, everyone to the beautiful waterside town of Lake Valor for this year's Grand Festival," she announced into her mic, making the crowd cheer. "Sixty talented coordinators from all over the Sinnoh region have joined us here to perform and battle their way into becoming the newest Top Coordinator!"

"And that will be me," was muttered all around the locker room, from confident and cocky contestants.

"Over the next few days, these talents coordinators will perform and battle their way into being named the next Top Coordinator," Marian continued. "The first stage is the Performance Stage, where our contestants will show off the beauty of their pokémon and their moves in double performances. After this stage, we will boil down our contestants to the lucky thirty-two for the Battle Stage where they will fight in double battles to win the chance to be named Top Coordinator."

"We got this, Torterra," Adrien whispered to the Pokeball in his hand.

"And to help us, let me introduce our judges," Marian continued again. "First is the Chief of the Pokémon Activities Committee, our head judge, Mr.Contesta."

"I look forward to watching all these coordinators doing their very best," the judge said as the spotlight shined down on him.

"Next is the President of the Pokémon Fan Club, Mr.Sukiza," Marian introduced.

"Remarkable," the next judge used his catchphrase.

"And, of course, Nurse Joy," Marian announced. "She is a very special guest all the way from the Kanto region."

The spotlight shined down on the pokemon nurse.

"It's an honor to be here and to help judge these amazing contestants, I called my sisters from Pewter City and Cerulean City."

Two more Nurse Joy seemed to materialize from behind her.

"We're very happy to be here," they all said at once.

"And last, but definitely not the least, our guest judge," Marian announces, making the crowd and contestants curious as to who it might be. "He is the youngest ever Top Coordinator of three regions and has graced us with his presence from all the way in Kalos. He's known as the White Wolf, it's Lyon Garden!"

A fourth spotlight shined down and Lyon was presented, making the crowd erupt into cheers.

Adrien was both shocked and not shocked at the same time. He figured that Lyon was here for a reason, but he suspected that it was for a guest performance, not as a judge. But he did smirk as he saw Lila pale a little at the sight of one of the people that she lied about.

"Ladies and gentlemen, coordinators of all ages," Lyon says. "I hope to see plenty of creativity, skill, passion, and most of all, I want to see good sportsmanship. I wish you all the luck in the world, but I will still tell you the cold hard truth about everything you and your pokemon do."

Adrien chuckled under his breath. Lyon would always be Lyon, and that meant that the Ice Prince, which all of their friends called him, would come out every now and again.

"The performance stage will be divided into three separate stages," Marian announced as all three male judges went to a separate stage with one of the Nurse Joy's. "Blue, green, and red. And the performances will be happening simultaneously. Let's get this first round started!"

The crowd cheered. In the locker room, the three first contestants were called out for each of the stages.

Adrien certainly got the meaning of the three stages. It was an extra challenge to be able to do a proper performance when there were two others happening at the same time. It was all about being able to focus on what you were doing and not get overwhelmed.

As the performances started and coordinators showed off their skills, Adrien definitely saw a few that would be his main competition. Such as when Luka took his turn on the blue stage, he did a very enchanting performance with his Sunflora and ghost-type Oricoro. As Marinette has told him, Luka loves music and almost always includes sound in his performances. And as he heard the sound and saw the glowing musical notes of Luka's performance, he knew that boy was going to be a challenging opponent.

There was also Nathaniel and Marc. They worked on a pokemon comic book together, so both of their creative and artistic skills showed in their performances. And it was also an amazing sight to see how Nathaniel had a rare Phione that he paired with his Piplup for his performance was stunning aquatic moves. And Marc was definitely no slouch as he gave an incredible display of nature with his Meganium and Cherubi.

But that was to say that there were not some fails as well.

Sadly, this list of fails included Nino. Adrien might have once called him a friend, but that certainly stopped when the guy started believing Lila's lies about Marinette. And by how badly he failed his performance, Adrien had to guess that Nino had probably taken some of Lila's "advice" about what he should do. It certainly was not a good look to the green stage judges when his Buizel went flying back from a Will-O-Wisp from his Drifblim was too powerful for the combo he was trying to do.

When Marinette got her turn on the red stage, Adrien was proven right when he had guessed that she would do a flawless performance. It was an amazing combination of her icy Amaura with her beautiful Vivillon. Especially when she had beautiful glowing snowflakes falling all over the stage with a combination of icy wind and silver wind followed by a morning sun.

Plus, it was certainly nice to see Lila so angry over Marinette having done nothing wrong in her performance one bit.

But even Adrien had to admit that even though he hated Lila as a person, she did pretty well during her own performance. Sure, her combo moves were a little predictable with the pokemon that she chose, but they still worked out in the end for her. But Adrien had a feeling that like the liar that she was, she was probably just using combo moves that she has seen in the past and using them herself but with different pokemon so that it is not obvious that she is just a copycat.

Then, Cat Noir was called for the blue stage. Adrien took a deep breath as he went out toward the stage. He passed Marinette on his way and she gave him an encouraging hug. He knew that Lyon was the judge for the blue stage along with the main Nurse Joy guest judge from Kanto. But he knew that Lyon would not judge him any easier just because they were friends. If anything, he'd be judged harder since Lyon knows how hard he had trained for this.

"And next on the blue stage is the talk of the Grand Festival," he heard Marian announce. "A masked coordinator that has been taking the contest world by storm. The pokemon contest prodigy himself, Cat Noir."

There was loud cheering as he ran out there and pulled out his pokeballs.

"Torterra, Togekiss, claws out," he threw their pokeballs into the air with his signature catchphrase.

With the star sticker on both the pokeballs, both of the pokemon came out in a swirl of stars. Most would doubt using a pokemon as big and tough-looking as Torterra for the Performance Stage, but Adrien was not most people.

Togekiss lands gracefully on the tree of Torterra's shell. There was a reason why Togekiss were known as some of the most graceful pokemon in the world.

"Togekiss, sky attack. Torterra, leaf storm," Adrien commanded.

Togekiss shined with a white aura as it slowly floated into the air. But at the same time, Torterra's tree let out its storm of leaves and green wind. Since Togekiss was right on the tree, as it flew into the air, the storm swirled around it and followed it. The leaves and window giving off an incredible light that was a result of the combo of the light of the sky attack with the flow of the leaf storm. Togekiss then flew higher into the air.

"Safeguard," Adrien commanded.

Togekiss then unleashed the blue and sea green force field that the protection move grants. It caused the sky attack and the leaf storm to disperse in a gorgeous flash of light.

Lyon and Nurse Joy both looked impressed by how he so effortlessly made a beautiful start to his performance.

"Torterra, sunny day. Togekiss, aerial ace," Adrien commanded.

Torterra's tree glowed with sunlight as it then threw a ball of light into the air. It headed right toward Togekiss as it was surrounded by streams of white energy as it flew around to use its move. The sunny day move was hit by Togekiss, resulting in a bright flash of light.

And the crowd and judges and fellow contestants gasped as Togekiss emerged from the light. The aerial ace and sunny day had merged together and had created a stunning rainbow trail that followed it as it flew around the stage. It was one of the most stunning things ever seen in a contest in ages.

Togekiss then did an aerial twirl before landing right back on Torterra's tree and causing the rainbow trail to burst into rainbow-colored sparkles that fell all over the stage.

Adrien took a bow as his performance ended. The crowd and judges were all on their feet as they gave him a giant round of applause. Lyon caught his eye and gave him a look filled with pride and congratulations.

"I don't think I have ever seen a performance like that," Lyon says, doing his judging. "A true mastery of both the power of a Torterra and the elegance of a Togekiss. Truly the best performance I have seen in a long time."

"It was indeed incredible," Nurse Joy added her judging. "To combine two pokemon so different from each other and making them work in such harmony really is a breathtaking piece of art."

Adrien could not be prouder of himself as he returned Torterra and Togekiss to their pokeballs and then started to walk back to the locker room. He was about halfway there when Marinette basically tackled him with a hug.

"I have never seen anything like that," she practically yelled in excitement. "You're Torterra was so well-trained and Togekiss was beautiful. I will never know where you get your time to train performances like that, but that was so awesome."

Adrien chuckled at the enthusiasm of his friend.

"Thanks, Marinette," he said. "I loved your performance as well. Those snowflakes were such works of art and they were almost like fairies floating around the stage."

Marinette blushed at the compliment.

"Thanks," she smiled. "I knew that ice moves and flying-type moves are usually a good mix, so when you add in the light from the silver wind, it creates the snowflakes."

"I just know that I will see you in the finals," Adrien grinned at her. "I may not want to beat you, but I'm going to."

"In your dreams, kitty," Marinette giggled as she knew that it would be one hell of a showdown.

"Get your hands off of Lila's man, Mari-brat," a female voice was heard.

"And, here we go again," Marinette groaned.

Marinette turned around as Adrien looked at who was yelling. It seems that Alya was as much of Lila's attack Growlith now as she always seems to be since the liar showed up in their lives. And it looked like Lila was fake crying behind her while Nino was trying to comfort her.

"Uh... who are you," Adrien asked.

Now, Adrien had done some voice acting for a few movies that his dad wanted him to do. So, he was a pretty good actor. Adrien might know who Alya is, but Cat Noir has never met her before.

Alya looked at Adrien, smiling at him. But he could still see the rage in her eyes over something that Lila probably lied about. This was probably about the lies about him dating Lila with the liar probably also throwing in some other lies to make Marinette look even worse.

"Oh, I guess Lila never mentioned me," Alya said. "I'm Alya, your girlfriend's best friend."

"Uh... And who is..." Adrien tried to reveal Lila as a liar.

"Oh, don't worry about lying to protect her," Alya interrupted him, proving that they were right about how Lila would lie her way out of Cat Noir saying that he did not know her. "But I should warn you that this girl that you're talking to is nothing but a giant bully."

"Excuse me," Adrien had to stop himself from snapping at Marinette's former best friend.

"She is nothing but a bully, liar, and cheat," Alya glared at Marinette. "She is always bullying Lila and trying to steal her pokemon. She always calls Lila a liar when she is no such thing. Plus, she drugs all her pokemon to make sure her performances are good. Plus, she steals Lila's contest ideas. So, get your hands off of Lila's boyfriend, Mari-brat."

"You know, Luka used to tell me that you're heart song screamed that you were a bad friend," Marinette crossed her arms. "I did not believe him, but I will never doubt him ever again since you have ditched me for a liar."

"SEE," Alya yelled as she looked at Adrien and pointed at Marinette as if she had just been proven right. "She just called Lila a liar. She is a total bully."

"Well, she obviously is..." Adrien was interrupted again but by a different person this time.

"Hello, kitty," Lyon says as he approached the group.

"Wolfie," Adrien was immediately back in a good mood as he saw his friend.

"I have a reward for you for such an incredible performance," Lyon said.

Before Adrien could ask, he was suddenly kissed by Lyon. But the shock soon wore off as he melted into the kiss.

Marinette looked ready to burst in excitement as her ship has finally sailed. But she did now owe Luka a batch of his favorite caramel and chocolate scones since he had bet her that the two would get together at the Grand Festival while she thought it would happen after it. But she did not care.

Alya looked ready to burst in anger. Lila looked like she wanted to either cry more fake tears or just throw a monster tantrum. Nino just stood there with his mouth hanging open.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ARCEUS ARE YOU DOING," Alya screamed.

That made them break apart from the kiss. But Lyon just put his arm around Adrien's waist.

"I believe that I was kissing my boyfriend," Lyon said. "We've had to keep it secret because of the media, but we've been together a few months."

Adrien and Marinette both knew that he was lying, but they did not care. Besides, this was to both expose Lila and have an excuse to start dating.

"You've been cheating on your girlfriend for that long," Alya continued to scream.

Lila then chose to speak up, also choosing to fake cry.

"How could you do this to be, Noir," she cried to fake tears.

"Oh, so this is the girl that you were warning me about, Marinette," Adrien decided to join Lyon in his act. "The one that was going around and saying that I was dating her?"

"Yep, that's her," Marinette played along as well.

"Well, then," Adrien started, facing Alya. "As I was about to tell you, I do not have a girlfriend. I never have and I never will. As you can plainly see, I am gay and I have a wonderful boyfriend."

"Lila is not a liar," Alya continued to scream. "You're just a cheater that is trying to make her look bad."

"Wow, this girl is a piece of work," Lyon rolled his eyes.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Alya yelled at Lyon. "She was the one that gave you the inspiration to be the White Wolf and you trained her to be a coordinator. How could you betray her like this?!?"

"Her? Inspire me? As if," Lyon gave Alya an icy glare. "This is the first day that I have ever met this girl. I became the White Wolf because my sister used to call me a wolf because of how loyal I am to my friends and family. They also all call me the Ice Prince, so White Wolf was born out of my two childhood nicknames."

"You need better friends since Marinette is most definitely is right," Adrien said. "This Lila girl is, most definitely, nothing but a liar."

"Let's go before our IQ gets any lower from being around a liar and her loyal sheep," Lyon held Adrien's hand as the three of them left. "And if someone is accusing you of drugging your pokemon, Marinette, I will lend you my family lawyers to sue that liar for slander."

Marinette wanted to laugh so hard as she saw the look of horror on Lila's face as they passed. She did start laughing once they were out of earshot.

"This is turning into the best day of my life," Marinette looked so happy.

"You're welcome," Lyon smirked.

"Won't you now get accused of favoritism when Lila will probably spread that you two are 'together' as revenge," Marinette asked Lyon.

"Everyone saw Adrien's performance, so I doubt that will happen," Lyon was confident.

"Okay," Marinette accepted that. "Also, it is about time you two got together. Adrien's had a crush on you forever."

"MARINETTE," Adrien yelled as he blushed.

All Marinette did in response was smirk and giggle.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Advice Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains spoilers for a date, 讨教之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Outside the window, the wing of the plane slowly glides past layers of clouds, and glaring daylight illuminates the clear skies above the clouds.

Retracting my gaze, I look at Victor as he sits beside me. He’s wearing a formal suit, and is currently flipping through LFG’s annual report.

A week ago, both Victor and I received invitations to attend the annual media meeting in a neighbouring city today.

Among the list participants, there are a number of big shots in the business, as well as rising stars in the media industry. Victor and I are included. 

While I’m heading there with the goal of exchanging pointers with those in the same industry, Victor is making an appearance in the capacity of an investor.

Watching how attentively Victor is examining the report, I quietly turn off the video.

Just a while ago, the company produced a program which created lively discussion on the internet.

Even though a majority of the audience and those in the industry found the theme of the program original and with interesting content, a senior from the industry left feedback to the contrary.

In an “Aspects of the Film and Television Industry” interview , Producer Xia mercilessly criticised the sizeable number of issues in the industry.

While I originally agreed with whatever he said, I didn’t expect that in the next second, I’d appear in the list of examples given by this senior...

He commented that my program was sensationalised, purposefully created controversy, and that producers have completely lost their personal integrity and their "original aspirations” when making programs.

There were people who stood by me, mocking Producer Xia for simply resting on his laurels, and not following the times and being creative.

Yet, his words caused my heart to feel heavy.

At this thought, I release a sigh.

MC: Maybe I’ll be able to get some advice and experience from people in the same industry at the annual media meeting later...

Victor: Why aren’t you resting a little more on the plane?

Without warning, Victor’s voice sounds at my ear. Even before I have the chance to turn the video off, his line of sight has already landed on my screen.

MC: Cough. I’m learning from a senior in the industry, and also thinking about how to seek advice from those in the same industry during the annual meeting.

Hearing this, Victor lightly shuts the report in his hands.

Victor: Did you know that this producer would also be participating in tonight’s annual media meeting?

MC: !?

Victor: You could learn from him in person.

Outside the window of the plane are pleasant weather and blue skies. At this moment, however, there’s lightning, thunder, and torrential rain in my heart.

MC: ...Victor, could I stay in the hotel and re-conceptualise the variety show proposal you shot down last week?

Victor: No.

Before I can fleece all the possible excuses from my brain, Victor reaches out, pulling my knitted hat over my nose.

Victor: If it’s a problem you can’t resolve, don’t waste time on it. Who was the one who boldly said she’d gather her energy to get advice from those in the same industry?

MC: ...it was me.

Victor: In that case, set aside the program, and think about what you want to ask him later.

With this, Victor closes his eyes, minding his own business.

But he pushes the arm handle in between us, and reaches out to lean my head on his shoulder.

MC: Victor, you...

Victor: Close your eyes and think.

-

Mentally preparing myself to make conversation with people from the same industry, I step off the plane worriedly.

The private car arranged by the organiser of the annual meeting sends us directly to the venue, not giving me the slightest chance to struggle.

Stepping into the venue, the staff hurriedly rush over and speak to Victor in hushed whispers.

Victor nods at them slightly.

Victor: I’ll head over there with them, and will look for you later.

MC: All right. I’ll meet those in the same industry myself, and hope I can have the “luck” to interact with Producer Xia...

After Victor leaves, I stroll around the venue aimlessly.

I meet quite a number of familiar seniors in the venue. During our conversations, I obtain a lot of practical and useful suggestions.

Talking about the conceptualisation of works, and their experience preparing a program from start to finish... I learn quite a lot.

But the conversation topics inevitably end up with that dispute weighing on my mind.

Producer A: Producer Xia is just too inflexible. That’s just the style of current times. It’s not as though one’s “original aspirations” can rake in money.

MC: Actually, what Producer Xia said is correct. I’m still very green when it comes to going in-depth for programs...

It’s just that the reason why I’m brooding over this is because I don’t wish for the senior I respect to misunderstand that I’m a producer who has lost my original aspirations.

Producer B: Young Lady, being able to accomplish so much at this age, and being able to grab the attention of the audience is already considered a success.  

Faced with the kind consolation from everyone, I can only wave my hands in front of me awkwardly.

After bidding farewell to a few people from the same industry, I plan to make another round, but I feel vibrations in my pocket. Taking out my phone, I realise that Victor is calling me.

Victor: Why are you hovering around?

MC: Huh?

I instinctively turn my head to look around, but can’t see a trace of Victor.

Victor: Stop looking around. Lift your head.

After my eyes roam the venue, they finally halt on the French window of the private room on the second floor. I can’t help but wave in small motions towards Victor, who is standing behind the glass.

MC: I can see you now. But what do you mean by “hovering around”... I’m clearly learning very diligently, okay?

Victor: So, how’s your learning?

MC: It’s not bad. I just met a number of really incredible producers. They shared lots of tips when it comes to preparing and conceptualising a program!

Victor: Why don’t you talk to that producer you admire most?

Hesitating for a moment, I express my dispute with Producer Xia in a roundabout manner.

MC: Actually, I had some divergence in opinions regarding the production of programs with this senior a while ago... It wouldn’t be that good to go over so abruptly.

Victor: So, you feel nervous in such situations. Why don’t you think about how it wouldn’t be that good when you’re being fearless and bold in front of me?

MC: That’s not the same thing!

I retort him without hesitation, and a soft “hmph” can be heard at my ear.

Victor: Does he look even scarier? Or is he more worthy of you trying to figure him out carefully, and pondering and worrying about being too abrupt? 

MC: ...of course not! Just you wait - I’m going over there right now!

Taking a deep breath, I’m just about to hang up when a staff’s voice drifts from the other end of the line. 

Staff: Mr Victor, you’ll have to be on stage in about ten minutes.

Astonished, I lift my head in Victor’s direction.

MC: You’ll be on stage in a while? Why didn’t you mention it?

Victor: The organiser invited me at short notice. I just have to share my experience simply.

MC: Short notice??

Behind the glass, I see him lowering his hand to look at his watch, as though preparing to be on stage.

Victor: All right, it’s time for you to return to your seat.

-

When Victor heads to the stage, it dawns on me that I haven’t looked for my seat ever since entering the venue.

I hurriedly open the invitation card, looking around according to the seat number stated on it. Surprised, I realise that I’m actually sitting next to Producer Xia!

MC: It can’t be that coincidental, right?

Eyes widening, I once again verify the seat number. Even if I don’t wish to admit it, the person seated on my right is Producer Xia, whose words have troubled my heart.

But logically speaking, my seat should be a little further behind...

Watching as the guests take their seats in succession, me standing here is even more conspicuous.

I have no choice but to summon my courage and walk towards the seat, pondering on this unexpected “surprise”.

??: Is that the producer from [MC’s Company Name]? Tch tch, the one next to her is Producer Xia with the big temper.

Maintaining a smile, I greet the seniors at the table, pulling the chair outwards incredibly softly.

But hearing my movements, Producer Xia turns his head. The eyes that pause on my face put an end to my chance of feigning ignorance.

MC: Hello, Producer Xia. I’m MC, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you...

Just as the rumours have said, his temperament is odd, and this senior simply nods. 

The atmosphere reaches an impasse. Slightly sullen, I recall what Victor said earlier-

“What’s so scary about you?”

That’s right. I’ve already signed a five hundred million dollar contract with Victor, so what else is there to be afraid of!

Perhaps the little Victor in my head gives me a buff, and I steel my heart, speaking bluntly.

MC: Senior Xia, to be honest, a large part of the reason why I attended this annual meeting was to obtain your advice. Of course, what I hope even more is to dispel the misunderstanding you have about me.

Producer Xia doesn’t say anything, and I’m unable to read his emotions on his face. But saying these things makes me much more light-hearted.

MC: You criticised my program before, saying that I’m too fickle, wanting to chase after trendy topics, and have lost the “original aspiration” of what it means to make programs. 

Producer Xia: So, what are you trying to say?

MC: There are indeed many flaws in my programs. This is an issue arising from my own inabilities. But “deliberately creating sensational topics”, “chasing after views”... These aren’t my intentions, nor my motivation for entering this industry.

Mustering my courage, I tell him about the very first conceptualisation of the program he criticised, and the difficulties faced in the implementation process.

After a very long time, he sighs.

Producer Xia: Is the old-fashioned opinion of someone like me very important to you? 

I’m stunned for a moment, not understanding the meaning in his words. However, judging from his tone and expression, he doesn’t seem enraged by my abruptness.

MC: That’s right. Because you’re a senior I respect very much, and I grew up watching your programs. As compared to those programs which are trendy for a while, your works are classics which have withstood the test of time.

Even before I finish speaking, the stage is suddenly illuminated. The surroundings quieten down, and everyone turns their gazes to the middle of the stage.

Under the eyes of the audience, Victor walks onto the stage. 

He’s attending the meeting in the capacity of an investor, and his speech represents the choice of the market, and also represents the hopes of the audience.

Victor’s voice is neither too fast nor too slow, and is steady with strength. 

Victor: ...they key to a successful program lies in being able to continuously release a different voice in this diverse world.

Victor: Innovation will bring friction, but when interacting with all sorts of perspectives, it could create space and opportunities for thought within the industry.

Victor: Always accommodating to the market and following trends could erode a program and make it lose its initial style, rendering it into yet another industrial product with no originality.

Perhaps talking about the current situation in the industry, a few seniors from the older generation who weren’t paying attention at the start have their attentions piqued.

Victor: But to strike a balance between following trends and maintaining valuable opinions...

Victor: This is a difficult aspiration that every producer has to face and be unwilling to give up on.

Victor pauses for a moment. In a trace, I even have the misperception that he’s looking straight at me. 

I instinctively start clapping, but the surroundings are completely quiet.

It’s only at this point that I realise the speech isn’t over yet. According to the plan, an expression of gratitude and concluding remarks follow after this...

But I didn’t expect that Producer Xia would follow me in applauding, very quickly dispelling my awkwardness.

With this senior leading the pack, the applause offstage very quickly turns enthusiastic.

On the stage, Victor politely expresses his gratitude. When the applause fizzles out, he ends with the concluding remarks. 

At this moment, Producer Xia, who has been silent all this while, speaks.

Producer Xia: A while ago, I heard that after a young junior heard my criticisms, she quietly went around interviewing all the related audiences and guests again. I initially didn’t believe it, but I can see that it’s true now. My views were too one-sided.

My face flushes.

MC: ...just as you said, my works don’t relate enough to real life, and lack insight. After calming down and pondering over it for a very long time, I could only think of this stupid method.

Producer Xia: Perhaps just as that young man said earlier, I should change the way I think.

-

The afternoon sunlight is leisurely, and the fragrance of coffee ferments in the air, leaving me in a daze.

After the annual media meeting, Victor and I have come to a nearby cafe. 

MC: I heard that the speech on stage was requested by the organiser at short notice. If it were me, I’d definitely be unbelievably nervous. As expected of you, Victor!

Victor: I could see it very clearly when you were making small talk offstage.

MC: ...those were just normal greetings between me and those from the industry. Producer Xia even said that you’re very accomplished. 

Victor: Didn’t you say that his temper was as equally large as his popularity?

MC: Those were all just misunderstandings. Senior Xia even answered many questions that I didn’t get an answer to even after cracking my head over them.

In our seats in the cafe, I’m engrossed in sharing what I heard earlier, and Victor lets out a resigned sigh.

Victor: ...you said you were going to treat someone to coffee, so why are you only sharing your own experiences?

His reminder brings me back my senses, and my gaze once again lands on the menu.

MC: But...

Victor reaches out to take the menu from my hands.

Victor: It’s just ordering coffee. Why do you look like you’re in misery?

But when he sees the words on the menu, he purses his lips.

Victor: ...

MC: Do you know why I looked like I was in misery now?

Victor: Are you sure these are names of coffee?

MC: Of course!

Picturing Victor reading out the names of the coffee with a dead serious expression, I await for that image to turn into reality with much anticipation.

So, I deliberately clear my throat, leaning closer to him.

MC: So, Mister, may I know if you’d like “Sweet Sweet Milk Coffee”, or “Puckery Pure Coffee”?

[Note] In Chinese, the names of the coffee are meant to be sound cutesy - “甜甜嗲嗲奶咖” (“tian tian dia dia nai ka”) and “涩涩呼呼纯咖啡” (“se se hu hu chun ka”)

Victor: ...

Victor’s brows furrow indistinctly, then he shuts the menu.

Victor: The second.

As expected, he doesn’t fall for the trap. I can only let my enthusiasm wane, and I order two cups of coffee.

-

Completing the day’s itinerary, Victor and I return to the hotel early.

After washing up, I’m just about to blow my hair when I realise that there’s an issue with the hair dryer in my room, and no one at the reception counter is picking up my call.

After a moment of hesitation, I drape on my jacket, and knock on Victor’s room next door.

Victor opens the door quickly. He has already changed into casual homewear, and the room is in a state of complete darkness, as though he’s already preparing to sleep.

Victor: What’s wrong?

MC: I’m here to borrow the hair dryer. The one in my room can’t be used.

Victor turns his body to the side, letting me in. When I step into the room, I sneeze.

MC: Achoo! Why’s it so cold here? Didn’t you turn on the heater?

Victor: I just had a bath. I found it a little warm so I turned it off.

While he speaks, I turn the heater and lights on in the room. Borrowing the bright lights, I notice the grey circles underneath his eyes. 

The end of the year is LFG’s busiest period. He definitely didn’t get proper rest over this duration.

With this thought, I pick up the hair dryer on the coffee table, planning to blow my hair dry in my own room. But when I turn around, I bump into his chest.

MC: Why are you standing behind me so quietly?

Victor: Who’s the quiet one?

Probably finding my stunned expression humorous, the corners of Victor’s lips curl upwards.

Victor: You’re borrowing a hair dryer, so why are you acting so suspiciously?

MC: ...I’m worried that I’m disturbing your rest! So I plan to dry my hair in my room.

Without a word, he takes my hand, pulling me to sit on the sofa next to the coffee table. Then, he sits behind me.

Not understanding what’s going on, I twist my head to look at him.

Victor: Be good and sit.

He takes the hair dryer in my hand, lifting the ends of my hair out from my jacket, then stops.

Victor: Take off your jacket.

MC: ??

Victor sighs in resignation, then pulls gently at a corner of the sleeve of my jacket.

MC: ?! 

Victor: Your jacket’s drenched from your hair. If you don’t want to catch a cold, take it off.

MC: [blushes] I see...

Victor: Don’t let your imagination run wild.

MC: I did not!

Face flushed, I remove my jacket. Suddenly, I feel a cold shiver, and realise that I'm only wearing a spaghetti strap top.

I can feel the blood on my face rushing to the top of my head.

MC: [blushing] I... I should keep it on! Or I’ll feel very cold...

Before I even finish speaking, I feel a warm, broad chest pressing against me.

Victor: Are you still cold like this?

MC: [blushing] ...nope.

Victor switches the hair dryer on, gently fiddling with my hair. 

My back rubs against his cotton t-shirt, at the area close to his heart. It seems as though I can vaguely feel his heartbeat. For a moment, I can’t differentiate if it’s my heartbeat or his.

He holds up the ends of my hair tenderly, his fingers occasionally touching my scalp gently. 

My hair dances in the air in a disorderly manner, following the direction of the hair dryer, and they fall on my cheeks and neck.

A ticklish sensation surfaces from behind and in front of me. I bite my lip, but finally chuckle, unable to hold myself back.

MC: Hahahaha -- it’s so ticklish!

Victor’s actions pause slightly. Then, he bends his forefinger and taps the top of my head softly.

Victor: Even if it’s ticklish, bear with it.

I tense myself up, sitting in Victor’s arms, trying my best to level my breathing.

Victor: Relax. Why are you so nervous?

MC: ...It’s not like I can relax just because you tell me to relax. Oh yes, Victor, did you assign someone to handle today’s seating arrangements?

Victor: Mm. Didn’t you find it a pleasant surprise that you could interact with the producer you admire?

Recalling the nervousness and awkwardness of conversing with Producer Xia, I can’t help but mutter softly.

MC: Yes yes yes, I’m grateful for the serious scare you prepared for me...

Victor: Looks like the both of you had a joyful interaction, and that you’re no longer preoccupied by the matter that troubled you.

Hearing his teasing remark, I lift up my head, the back of my head almost bumping into Victor’s chin.

MC: How did you know that? Did you watch the “Aspects of the Film and Television Industry” interview?

The hair dryer hums at my ear, but I can still capture the soft “hmph” he leaves in the air.

Victor: Whenever that senior was mentioned, your expression would turn very nervous. When other people brought up their opinions on your program, you’d start tweaking your ears and scratching your cheeks in anxiousness, deliberately evading the topic. The program proposals you’ve been giving me have fewer errors. But at the same time, your ideas have become increasingly conservative.

Victor speaks unhurriedly and with reason. When I hear this, I break into cold sweat, and shirk my neck in guilt. 

MC: So you could already tell since early on.

Victor: At first, I thought such changes would be beneficial to your growth. But when I saw a certain dummy becoming more and more roundabout, and having a more negative attitude, I thought she needed someone to give her a push.

MC: ...aren’t you worried that with such a violent push, I’d fall?

Victor: If that producer insisted on being at odds with you, what would you have done?

Victor’s counterquestion sounds above my head. For a moment, I’m left in a daze, and I give it serious thought. 

Actually, I’ve long since known the answer to this question. After all, from a very long time ago, Victor already told me that the opinions of others aren’t that important.

It’s just that when applying it to myself, I realise how difficult it is to follow through with such words. 

MC: It just means that I ought to work even harder, and use my subsequent works as proof... no, as a counterattack!

Victor: Being able to think this way means you aren’t beyond cause.

He taps the top of my head gently again.

MC: In that interview episode, Producer Xia said that the most important thing in making programs is to maintain that “original aspiration”. I think what that meant was - as producers, we not only have to maintain professionalism, but have to persevere in our own steps. The production of programs has always been an open-ended question. If I were to cater to the opinions of others, it would be going against my own “original aspiration”. So what I’m thinking is that perhaps from the very beginning, the question I should pondering on is how to better express and convey things.

Out of habit, I lift my head to meet his eyes, wanting to seek Victor’s affirmation.

Victor lets out a breath, gently tidying my hair. The friction from his finger pads brings with it an almost indistinct tenderness and patience. 

Victor: All right, your hair’s dry, and you’ve thought through the problem. You should go back.

MC: Huh?

Victor grabs a blanket from the side, covering my exposed shoulders tightly.

Victor: Or do you want to laze here for an entire night?

Tugging the blanket over myself to cover my scorching cheeks, I speak boldly.

MC: But the notebook on your desk is still lit. Are you planning to continue working? I want to advance together with CEO Victor, and re-conceptualise that proposal you find too conservative. After all, if Producer MC makes an excellent program, it’d be a good thing for its investment partner LFG, right?

I speak earnestly and sincerely, but Victor is tickled by my dead serious tone.

Victor: Lacking great wisdom and knowledge, but clever in trivial matters.

From the reflection in the glass of the French window, I can vaguely see a small smile on Victor’s lips. 

Victor: Since you said you want to “advance together”, you aren’t allowed to be timid. Being bold in front of me - isn’t that what you’ve always been good at?

-

Moments and Texts: here

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[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - t w o

Temptation vs Freedom

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

I don't like memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. Its a constant battle . A war between remembering and forgetting.

Back in her darkened bedroom, Tallulah still couldn't wrap her head around her current situation. The rest of the night consisted of her being introduced to people who seemed to know more about her then she had wanted, clearly word spreads fast around La Push. Josie had introduced her to some of her friends that had arrived later, after the tribal stories. Clearly only there for the party. They seemed nice, but they were definitely not the type of people she would choose to be friends with herself.

Lenna had made herself scarce throughout the entire, to which her twin stated was typical behaviour. But Tallulah figured it had more to do with her presence than anything else. Tally couldn't help but look for the tan boy she had locked eyes with, something about him was so alluring. It was almost frustrating, Tallulah Forester doesn't get captivated by anyone, not ever. She was the captivating one, at least that's what Xander had always said. “You're like a tornado, with pretty eyes and a heartbeat. Luring in bystanders until you’ve ruined their lives..That's what I enjoy so much about you”, that was the last thing he had said to her before she had left his house party the night she had been caught. Their relationship was a mess, both of them struggling for control, even if it meant hurting each other in the process. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but it was all she ever had. She craved it in an almost masochist way.

Tallulah's phone had been off all night, not in the mood to deal with the onslaught of messages she was sure to get, now that she had a moment to breath by herself she figured she may as well read them, 1 5 messages from Lina and 3 missed calls, her best friend, was more than likely freaking out, consumed by guilt over the fact that their lies to their parents had been crossed. 7 messages from Kit, who she figured was already trying to plan how to spin this to make herself the victim, as Kit does, and 1 lone message from Xander, the only one she read before she shut off her phone to go to sleep.

That sucks :(

Was all that it said.

-

After a lot of tossing and turning in the bed that was almost too soft, mixed with the pillows that weren’t soft enough, Tallulah drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of the boy who had taken her by storm, his smile seemed brighter than the sun and the way he laughed was like music to her ears. They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, she could see that he was talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying, she watched as he stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, looking as though he was about to jump, she stood up in a panic--

Tallulah startled awake to Kira shaking her shoulder gently, a soft smile graced her face. It was raining, but Tallulah could tell it was early morning.

“Tally, sweetie, you’re dad and I would like to speak with you before he goes to a meeting” she said quietly, “Get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes,” she spoke, the smile never leaving her lips. Tallulah groaned, not one to be a morning person in the slightest, she swung her legs out of bed, toes touching the cool hardwood floors. She could hear low murmurs outside her door as she heaved herself out of bed, still not used to her surroundings she walked to her two duffle bags and sifted through the clothes before settling on an oversized, green long sleeve to cover the stick and poke tattoos that littered her arms, with ripped, loose, blue jeans. One disappointment at a time, she thought to herself as she got dressed. She grabbed her hairbrush from her bag and ran it through her hair, leaving it to lay in its natural waves down her back before quietly heading downstairs to whatever talk she was awaiting.

She was met with Kira and her father sitting at the kitchen table next to each other, and as they beckoned her over to sit, she noticed the thin, blue rectangle laying in the middle of the table. The same blue rectangle she had so carefully hid in her room back in Seattle, or so she thought. She could feel anger begin to bubble in her belly as realization dawned on her, her mother had been through her room.

She sat expectantly, waiting for her dad to chastise her for using drugs, or even alcohol, as a minor and how that could affect her future, but he looked to Kira to begin. The gentle smile that was near permanent on her stepmom was almost comforting in the moment, almost. “Tally”, She starts, “We are aware of your.. pastimes, in Seattle, however, we will not be encouraging that same behaviour here.” she sounds like a damn counselor, Tallulah thought to herself. She’d honestly prefer being yelled at. “We have a few ground rules that we expect you to follow, as we do Lenna and Josette.” Kira continued, “Under no circumstances, will we allow drugs under our roof, including nicotine,” she says referring to the vape sitting in between them, “Or alcohol that does not belong to your father and I. If you are to partake in these activities and are caught you will have consequences.” She looks at Joseph, as if they had rehearsed their own parts, looking towards her dad expectantly, “Secondly,” He speaks up, “As we expect with the twins, any boy, or girl, that you are,, having relations with, we expect to meet, no sneaking them through bedroom windows.” Tallulah cringes internally, it was one time, she wanted to yell. “Curfew will be 11:00 pm on school nights and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, no exceptions.. Understood?” he asked, looking at his eldest daughter. She wants to argue with them, tell them that policing her life won’t make her change, not the way that they wanted her to at least. That was something her mother learned the hard way. She had taken the door off her bedroom when she had found out she was sneaking out in the night, which only caused Tallulah to start sneaking out the front door instead, right in front of her.

“You done?” she asks, yawning, this wasn’t new to her at all, and she really didn’t care to be frank. The two adults look at each other, Kira nodding her head in Tallulah's direction, Joseph sighed before tossing a key chain on the table next to her vape. A small house key was connected to what looked like a car key. “Choose one.”

Temptation or Freedom?

Tallulah spent the rest of the day running errands with Josie, who had offered to show her around the reservation. They had stopped at Monets, the local cafe, run by the Littleseas, its the go to hangout spot, according to Josie. Who happens to be friends with Colin Littlesea, the eldest son of the owners.

Tallulah picked at the half eaten muffin sitting in front of her as she waited for Josie to return with a refill of both of their coffees. They were so different from each other, Tallulah drinking hers black, while Josies consisted of mainly cream and sugar, just like their personalities, but for some odd reason they clicked.

The car her father and Kira gave her was originally supposed to go to Josie, so that the twins no longer would have to share their current one. Finding out that alone made her reconsider her choice, at least a nicotine addiction only really affected her, but with a lot of reassurance from Josie, and the simple ask that Tallulah help run her errands eased her guilt. She didn't want to upend the twins' life, it wasn’t their fault her parents decided to force her to move to La Push. While Josie seemed to enjoy her presence, Lenna did not, and it's clear now she was avoiding her.

Tallulah gazed around the quaint yet homey cafe, its hand painted walls consisted of the same trees that surrounded the reservation, it was peaceful. She looked towards the door as it chimed, alerting the staff of new customers entering, a group of extremely tall, good looking men walked through the door, causing the calm energy to shift with their booming laughs, everyone seemed to be used to this behaviour, considering she was the only one to look in their direction.

Her eyes followed the group of boys, taking each one in, by the time she reached the last, he was already looking at her. Paul Lahote. The largest of them all, in height and muscle, she thought to herself as her eyes raked his body.

Josie setting her coffee down in front of her broke her concentration on the boy, her attention fully shifted to her half-sister. “What do they feed the men here? They are all so tall” Tallulah asked jokingly, to which Josie laughed, shaking her head. “Not all of them. Just the ones who hang around Sam Uley. Some people say he's giving them steroids but dad swears against it. So does mom.” She watched Josie grimace, and cut her off before she could correct herself, “--I’ve seen boys roided, they look nothing like them.” she spoke before taking a sip of her coffee. Josie nodded, an almost fascinated look on her young face, “So it's true then..” At this, Tallulah raises her eyebrows, “ what's true?”

“Your mom sent you here because you got mixed up with some guys who did drugs or whatever. At least that's what Lenna said she heard dad say”

Of course she did, so much for a fresh start, she thought.

Tallulah rolled her eyes, “Sort of, I guess --”

Now she was being interrupted, a large looming figure was now standing at the edge of their table, greeting Josie, she watched as the younger girl blushed in response, before saying “Hey, Ethan. Uh, this is my older sister, Tally or um, Tallulah,” Josie fumbled over her words as she introduced her. Tallulah looked up at the towering boy with a half smile, nodding her head as a way to say ‘hey’ , Ethan nodded back before asking, “I didn’t realize you guys were sisters. Do you go to school off the rez?”

Tallulah shook her head, “I did but I just moved here from Seattle. I start at the rez school tomorrow.”

He nods before engaging with Josie in conversation about some project they were working on and she can’t help but look over at the boisterous table in the far corner, she can see Paul and another boy glance at her as they talk, she excuses herself from Josie and Ethan, the coffee in her mug no longer appetizing and itching for her little blue rectangle in that moment.

Tallulah makes her way up to the bar-like counter, the waitress coming to take her order almost immediately. She orders a sweet tea, hoping to wash some of the lingering bitterness from her mouth, hoping it would help curve her cravings. She can feel someone come up next to her but doesn't bother to look who it is as she fiddles with a napkin, the waitress comes to take their order and their voice sounds like velvet in her ears despite the hint of gruffness to it.

“You're Joseph Forester's daughter, right?” She hears him ask, she looks in his direction to see he's already looking at her, a small cocky, smirk toying on his lips. He already knows the answer clearly. She wants to roll her eyes and tell him to fuck off, but she can’t bring herself to do so. So, she nods and softly says, “Yeah, Tallulah.” This causes him to actually smile, like he's thankful she didn’t just blow him off. That hot, cocky persona is nearly untraceable now,

“I’m Paul Lahote.”

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Happily Ever After - 5

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1601

Warnings:  Pregnancy

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children.  Yet things aren’t perfect.  Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 5: Farewell to Our Old Life

It was kind of strange how little there was to organize for us regarding our move.  There was packing, but we couldn’t exactly hire a moving truck so it needed to fit in bags that we could carry or it had to stay behind.  That was difficult.  We had had a long time to collect a lot of things we considered precious to us.  The glass artwork that Thor and I had inadvertently made on our honeymoon was the thing I wished we could bring the most.  It would stay in the fountain in the entry and hopefully, we’d come back sometimes and see it.

Thankfully, most of our things were fairly portable.  We also wouldn’t need a lot of clothes because Asgard would provide things more fitting for the palace, and it’s not like we would need any furniture.  Mostly it was just personal effects and tech that Tony wanted to use there.

Other than that it was just letting the doctors know I was leaving, pulling Marya out of school, and organizing the party.

It was still leaning on the stressful side though - especially considering we were still waiting to hear what the rest of the kids were going to do.

Even though Rose and Paul had appeared closest to deciding to come, it was Billy and Teddy who came back to us first with a yes.  They had also said they wanted to do a bonding ceremony when we were there, which added another level of excitement and another level of stress.

Rose and Paul came next.  They said that they would try it out and see.  The concern about their children’s lifespan was a big issue for them, but Paul also said he’d be crazy to give up at least trying to live on Asgard as actual royalty.

As expected it was Eddie who took the longest to decide.  He really did love his job, and I think even with his talk about having children, he, Lyra, and Rory were still right into the rich, young party lifestyle.  He was worried about what they’d lose going to Asgard, rather than focusing on the things he might gain. 

No one pressured him though.  Any questions the three had were answered as honestly as we could and if we didn’t know we’d send word back to Asgard and Loki would come and give the answers they were looking for if at all possible.  Eventually, he decided that he’d give it six months for us to settle and make sure things with Stark Industries and the Avengers was transitioning smoothly given our sudden departure, and then he and his family would join us there to try it out.  He mentioned maybe doing six months on each planet or returning to Earth for a month or two every year, but we were all just glad he was willing to try it out, and his delayed departure from Earth was a good idea.  He even promised to come and visit when his new siblings were born.

When our goodbye party began, the whole family was excited for this new chapter in our lives and sad to say goodbye to the last.

Many of our friends were elderly or had passed on, so the party was going to be a mixture of different people.  Clarke was still around, though Jax had passed a few years ago.  We’d lost Rhodey and Fury, though Hill was still running the day-to-day operations of the Avengers, even in her old age, and Coulson had retired after years as successfully being director of SHIELD.  Vision was the same as ever, and people often came to him for direction when it came to the Avengers.  Carol also hadn’t changed though she still spent more time in space than on Earth.  A lot of the people we had met that had seemed so young when we met them, were all not officially middle-aged.  Even Peter Parker who was only fifteen when I met him was now pushing fifty and had a wife and daughter of his own.

They would all be at the party, including a lot of the new Avengers lineup.  Most of whom were much heavier hitters than any of us, even when we were wielding Mjolnir.  It was definitely going to be sad to say goodbye.

“It’s going to be okay, you know?”  Wanda said, snapping me out of my mini-trance as she ran a brush methodically through my hair.

“No, I know,” I said, tilting my head back.

“Then tell your brain that,” she teased.

I giggled and leaned up and pecked her lips.  “I’m sorry.  I would if I could.  Just hormones I guess.  Feeling stressed.”

“Well, stop it,” she scolded playfully.  “It’s bad for the babies.”

She began to braid my hair and I hummed as her fingertips grazed over my scalp.  “Imagine it though, Elly,” Wanda said.  “All the kids nearby - the new babies.”

“You’re a baby-oholic,” I said, laughing softly.

“It’s true,” she says.  “I am.”

She ran a hand around my side and pressed it on my stomach.  “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said.  “They already have such busy thoughts.”

I looked up at her and I’m not sure whether it was the look of pure and complete love in her eyes or the way the light caught in her hair, but I was struck by how beautiful she was and how much I loved her.  She smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead.  “I love you too,” she said and picked up a strand of silver wire with black opal and threaded it into my hair.  “All done.”

I stood carefully and straightened out the skirts on my blue lace cocktail dress.  “How do I look?” I asked.

“Perfect as always,” she said.  “Let's go say goodbye to our friends.”

We made our way down to the party deck where the party was only just starting up.  Bruce, Steve, and Clint were all already there, but there was no sign of Tony, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Thor, or Bucky.

Some of our kids were there and their kids all played out in the garden atrium that was built on the protruding wing of the tower and the party deck opened out into.  I greeted everyone and as I made my way around the room more people arrived.

Clarke came over and tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned and smiled, hugging her tightly.  She had aged well, not as well as I had obviously, but while her face was lined and she was a little frailer looking, she had kept in good shape and she continued to color her hair.  It would be easy to think she was in her early fifties rather than her mid-seventies.  Her eyes were what gave it away.  What had once been vivid violet had faded to pale lavender and were slightly cloudy.  They were heavily lined at the corners, the years having carved deep crevices to mark each time she was happy or sad or angry or worried.  It was still my Clarke though and I was going to miss her.

“I can’t believe you’re not going to be here when these two are born,” she said, indicating to my stomach as we pulled apart.  She was one of the select group of people I would be totally fine with touching my stomach unasked - but she never assumed.  “Where am I going to get my baby kisses from?”

I laughed and shook my head.  “I guess you’ll have to visit me on Asgard.”

“You can do that?”  She asked.

“I mean… I’m the Queen.  I think I can pull some strings,” I teased.

She laughed.  “God, thinking of you as a Queen is such a trip.”

“Hey Auntie Clarke,” Billy said, appearing behind us.  “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Clarke hugged him and looked around.  “It’s been too long.  Where are those kids of yours.”

“Come on, I’ll take you to them,” he looked over at me and narrowed his eyes.  “You go sit down, mom.  You know you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” I argued, holding up my hands.  “I’m just standing here.”

“Go on,” he said.  “Don’t make me page Dad Tony.”

“Heaven forbid,” I laughed and he wrinkled his nose at me and led Clarke out to the atrium.  I got myself a little plate of appetizers and a glass of punch and went and took a seat.

It wasn’t long until the whole room was teeming with people.  The Avengers had gotten to be a rather large collection of people since the original six had been reluctantly dragged together all those years ago.  Having so many of the people who meant so much to all of us here at the same time couldn’t help but make me think about how I’d first joined this group that would one day be my family.

All those years ago I had been a traumatized woman in her mid-twenties, just trying to get by.  I didn’t have many good friends, because it took a lot for me to trust people.  It took a superhero to get through and with her, so many other people flooded in after.  I was so grateful to them, and so in love with each of them to this day.  It would be hard letting this life of ours go, but it was inevitable.  I still had my 9 chosen people though, and I always would.  I was glad to be taking this next step with them at my side.

// NEXT

[winterscaptain]

buffer.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: takes place after constellations and before through and through. this is just a fun little piece before i continue my descent into Ouchtown, USA with the ajf 100 arc. i am really excited to include more of these early-series ‘home scenes’ with the hotchners and reader!

an ajf fic that requires no context!

words: 2.6k warnings: language

summary: happy 3rd birthday, jack! it’s a family affair, in more ways than one. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“So, how do you know the Hotchners?” A handsome man, probably just a little younger than Aaron (but significantly shorter), asks, filling his plate beside you.

“I work with Hotch - Aaron - Jack’s Dad - at the DoJ.” You keep your tone neutral, polite. There’s something off about him - he’s a little overeager, a little too comfortable in the Hotchner house. 

“Ah,” he says. “A profiler.” 

With a little laugh in your voice, you ask, “Are you familiar with the field?”

“Haley’s told me a little bit, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert, no.”

“I see. Do you know Haley well?”

“Yeah, my son is in Jack’s preschool class.” There’s still something he’s not telling you, but nevertheless, he sticks his hand out and you shuffle your plate to take it. “I’m Joseph. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Joseph. Not Joe. 

What happens if you call him Joe? 

Pin that for later. 

You introduce yourself and continue to make small talk for another few minutes, noting that he’s filled a second plate - you can only assume it’s for someone else. 

Let’s keep an eye on this one...

+++

“I’m so happy you all could make it.” 

You jolt back into your body after zoning out for a couple of minutes, finding yourself alone at one of the patio tables with Haley. A smile breaks across your face. “Me too.”

She snacks on a chip, delicately covering her mouth as she asks, “Is there anything exciting you’re all working on right now?”

Since when is Haley interested in cases? 

“Kind of. I head out to Colorado with Emily and Spencer tomorrow to go visit a religious cult on a compound in the mountains.” She laughs, and you follow suit. “So, it’s the little things, I guess.” 

“Very few things have changed, then?”

You nod, a knowing smile on your face. “Exactly.” 

There’s quiet for a moment and your eyes wander across the yard out of habit, taking stock of all the preschoolers running around, their parents at the perimeter. 

“Oh!” She sits forward, pulling her knee to her chest and propping her heel on the edge of her chair. 

You look back at her expectantly. 

“Did you like the book? Catch-22 is one of Aaron’s favorites. I think I wrote that in the note, but…” She gestures vaguely. “I thought it would be helpful.” 

Smacking your hand to your forehead, you laugh a little. “Oh, it was! I completely forgot to send a thank-you note, Haley, I’m sorry.” You lean forward conspiratorially. “I loved it. It was such a thoughtful birthday present. Thank you” 

Her nose scrunches up as she smiles. It’s adorable. “Good. I’m so glad.” 

+++

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Dave sidles up to you, eating a piece of cake. 

You follow his gaze, where Haley, Joseph, and their boys are kicking a soccer ball around. Haley’s full of laughter and unnecessary touches, but that’s not a new observation. 

You’ve had Joseph-not-Joe’s number since he first spoke with you. He seemed far too interested in getting to know the people close to Haley to be without ulterior motive. 

“I’m seeing something. I’m not sure what it is, yet.” You take a sip of your drink, letting your eyes wander. 

“Not for nothing,” Dave says, “and, of course, this stays between us -” 

“Of course.” 

“- But Aaron thought Haley was seeing someone before they got divorced, in the spring before you joined the team.” 

You hum. “Interesting. Do you think this is the guy?”

This is definitely the guy. 

“Well, there’s more to their relationship than ‘our kids go to preschool together,’ don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your eyes wander to Aaron, who’s chatting with a couple of the parents, Emily at his side. He’s distracted, also focused on Haley and Joseph with the boys on the other side of the yard. “Give me a second, would you, Dave?” You absently hand him your drink as you cross over to the small cluster. 

“Hey, Hotch,” you put a hand on his shoulder with an apologetic smile to the mom you just interrupted. “I think we have a little bit of a crisis in the kitchen. Can I steal you for a minute?”

With a grateful look only you and Emily pick up on, he says, “Sure.” With a rueful smile and wave to the other parents, he leaves Emily to her own devices. Much to her (and your) relief, JJ and Will are on their way, ready to save her from the inane conversation. 

“What’s up?” Aaron asks, his brow just a little furrowed. 

Triple checking that the house is empty, you lead him into the kitchen and lean against the counter, crossing your arms. “What’s going on with you?” 

His eyes flicker around the room before settling back on you and his jaw is tight. Somehow, he’s still trying to avoid you when you’ve made it impossible. “What do you mean?” 

You level him with a Really? look. “Tell me.” 

“Fine.” He leans back and mirrors you, crossing his arms. With only a little bit of reluctance, he shares, “This is the first big event...thing since the divorce and I -” He huffs. “I don’t know how to be a divorced parent when I’m...in front of people? I don’t know.” 

You cross the kitchen and lean against the counter beside him, the heels of your hands resting on the marble. “You’re not alone. We’re here with you and nobody expects you to be perfect.” You laugh lightly. “There are at least seven divorced couples out in your yard right now. Weirdly, it’s normal.” 

He shrugs. “I guess.” His eyes wander to the window, where Haley and Joseph are still visible with some of the other parents, seated around one of the patio tables. Joseph’s arm rests casually on the back of Haley’s chair. 

That’s it. 

“What’s going on with those two?” You pointedly match his focus and Aaron sighs. 

“Did I ever tell you I thought Haley was seeing someone before we were divorced?” 

You shake your head, only a little thrilled he’s choosing to share this with you so soon after Dave read you into the secret. 

“I think that’s the guy.” 

“I was wondering about him, myself. He seemed a little…eager,” you say with a laugh. 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “He thinks he’s subtle, but I’d also imagine it’s rough to be the mistress when the ex is an FBI profiler.” 

You snort. “True.” 

Aaron’s hand covers yours and you look down, the contact shooting a spark through your arm and down your spine. 

Isn’t that the biggest cliche on the planet? 

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for being here.”

You look up again, meeting his eyes. “You’re welcome.” With a smile, you add, “I’ll always be here to save you from suburban moms and your ex-wife’s boyfriends.” 

The smile you get in return warms you from your scalp to your toes. 

+++

A couple of hours have passed, and Aaron settles into his role as the birthday boy’s dad. He’s been particularly demonstrative with Jack, but it’s all genuine. He chased him around the yard, threw him over his shoulder, covered him in kisses, and just generally lavished him in all the love of which he’s bereft while away on cases. 

It’s simultaneously weird and very normal to see him with that face-splitting grin. It looks at home there, and you wish you had the pleasure of seeing it more often. 

Watching father and son together is something special. The resemblance is often uncanny, even more so now as Aaron has Jack propped on his hip, chatting away, almost nose-to-nose. You’re only aware of the soft smile on your face when Jessica, Haley’s sister, plops down beside you. 

“Those two are something else, aren’t they?” She says with a little smile. 

You nod. “Two peas in a pod, for sure.” 

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching Haley jog up to the two of them, her cheeks flushed in the autumn chill. She lays a hand on Aaron’s arm as she speaks, her other hand rising to Jack’s face to rub some frosting off his cheek. 

“How’s it been on his end? Being apart?” 

You look over at Jess. “It’s been alright. He stays even later in the office, if you can believe it -”

“Is that even possible?”

“You’d be surprised,” you laugh. “I’ve been thinking about getting him a shock collar or something so I can train him to be home by eleven.” 

She snorts. “That would be a sight, wouldn’t it?”

The two of you share a raucous bout of laughter, drawing the attention of both Aaron and Haley. Their confused looks only make you laugh harder, and pretty soon you and Jess are clutching each other for dear life. 

You don’t know her well, but you imagine you’ll jump that hurdle. You’re already halfway there. 

In fact, the original thought isn’t even that funny anymore - you’re just laughing for the sake of it. It feels good.

+++

You find yourself next to Haley as the cleanup proceedings begin. She’s got a little smile on her face, and you take a moment to admire just how lovely she is. 

Haley, you think, is a bit like the sun. She’s bright, but will burn the shit out of you if you’re not careful. 

She glances up at you, blue eyes warm in the waning October sunshine. “Thank you.”

You hold up handfuls of wrapping paper and shrug. “No problem. Happy to help.”

“No,” she laughs. “I mean thank you for looking out for Aaron.” She lowers her voice and leans in toward you. “I know he’s not always cooperative.” 

You suppress a rueful smile. “Haley, I don’t -”

She lays a hand on your arm. “I know. Just…” Her eyes wander across the yard, where Aaron’s passing (a very pregnant) JJ a glass of water. “Thank you.” 

“I wish I could say it was my pleasure but...” you pull a yikes face and it makes her laugh again. 

+++

You end up spending much of your time together as she thanks guests and people start to go home. There’s a kind of camaraderie that develops between you and it feels like you’ve known each other for years. 

Her temperament tells you a lot about Aaron. They way they must have functioned together through the years. They’re so different, complementary, but you can see how things could get heated fast between them (good or bad).

She’s surprisingly affectionate by nature, her fingers glancing over your shoulder to direct you to tasks you’ve offered to help with, pressing a kiss to her sister’s temple as she passed her on the porch, holding onto Aaron’s forearm when she’s talking to him, and most notably, embracing Joseph by his car as he leaves, lingering only a little longer than she should. 

Nevertheless, you’re almost impressed by their restraint. You haven’t caught them on anything major, and it’s been close to eight hours since he arrived. You’re sure you haven’t seen the last of Joseph-not-Joe. 

Haley wears her emotions on her face. She can’t hide a thing. It’s refreshing. 

+++

You lean on the porch railing, enjoying the crispness of the early autumn evening. Dave stands beside you for a while in silence. When he’s had his fill of your tacit company, he kisses you on the cheek and bugs out with Spencer. 

Will takes JJ home a few minutes later. There’s a little smile on your face as you watch her take his arm down the front path, leaning on him. 

They’ll do well together. 

Soon, everyone else is gone, and you’re only a little concerned you’ve overstayed your welcome. Jess tells you you’re being ridiculous as you rearrange the fridge for leftovers. 

“When has my sister ever kicked anyone out of her house while they’re still of use?”

You take a moment, fighting a smile. “Thanks, Jess.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, the BAU is part of my extended family.” She bumps your shoulder. “And family is always welcome in a Brooks house.” 

+++

Even when it’s time for you to go home, it isn’t. 

Jack almost breaks down in tears when you kneel to hug him goodbye, so you’re trapped. It’s not like you can leave him, right? Not when he holds you hostage with those big brown eyes. 

Identical to Aaron’s. 

Funny enough, you can’t deny him anything either. 

Oh, that’s enough. 

Haley catches you by the forearm as Jack runs back to his dad, who gently launches him onto the couch. “You can sneak out, if you want to go home. I’ll distract Jack.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “And leave you without your buffer? Not a chance.” 

You’re rewarded with another laugh and she lets you go, shaking her head. She can’t say you’re wrong. As much as she and Aaron can fitfully coexist on their own, it’s much more comfortable with you around. 

Haley might love him, but she doesn’t always like him. You, for some reason, make it easier to like him.

She resolves to think a little more about that, for future reference. 

About twenty minutes later, you assume your role as the buffer and land between Haley and Aaron on the couch, with Jessica on her other side. Jack’s stretched out across all of you, his head in his mom’s lap and his little arm hanging off the edge. You managed to find a movie he actually wanted to watch, but you suspect he’ll be long asleep by the time it’s over.  

Aaron’s phone buzzes and he maneuvers it out of his pocket. Being nosy, you peer over him without disturbing Jack. 

Strauss.  

He answers it, quietly. “Hotchner.”

You can feel Haley’s disappointment and residual resentment without even looking at her. 

He continues to speak in hushed tones, drawing little patterns on the back of Jack’s calves as he does so. “Ma’am, I’ll take care of that when I’m back in the office...No ma’am, I’m with my family at the moment...Yes...Thank you, ma’am...You too.” Aaron takes a second and silences his phone, stretching a little to set it on the end table. 

You’re sure the rest of you are wearing matching expressions of shock. 

“It can wait.” He shrugs like it’s nothing and turns his attention back to the screen.

Turning to look at Haley, you find her staring at Aaron with a kind of soft surprise and pride in her eyes. You feel a little like an intruder, so you drop your eyes to the back of Jack’s t-shirt under your fingertips. 

In the rapidly-approaching darkness, Haley reaches for your hand and you take it, your hands landing on Jack’s little shoulder blade. You drop your head onto Aaron’s shoulder, leaning into the casual familiarity of the moment.

It’s nice to feel like family. 

“Thank you,” he says. It’s hardly a breath, let alone speech. 

You nod once. Anytime. 

If either one of them asked, you’d keep them from tearing their heads off forever. It’s not a far reach from your everyday responsibilities, you already do it for Aaron and Derek. Trading out one temper for another is almost easy. 

Aaron looks down the line when the credits start to roll, finding Jess and Haley with their eyes closed, leaning against each other. You’ve been out for a little while, now tucked under his arm where it’s stretched across the back of the couch. One of your hands still loosely holds Haley’s while the other rests on the middle of Jack’s back. His lips twitch up into a smile as he rests his head against the back of the couch. 

Maybe it will be alright.

+++

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