#I think a couple mutuals work with clay?

[charlataninred]

I’ve come to the realization that, theoretically, my mutual circle could act as a semi functional village

[inkblackorchid]

I know the 4kids dub is terrible, but what do you think of each main cast English voices in general do you think they fit for who they are?

Just for you, I went back and got a quick refresher on the English voices, because it has actually been so long since I saw any significant portion of the dub that I genuinely forgot how some of them sounded. For reasons of the dub episode listing being a mess due to cut episodes, meaning that I have no idea where to reliably hear which character talk and thus had to pick a couple episodes at random, I'll just go over the signers if that's okay.

So, first off, Yusei. Honestly, purely from a voice acting standpoint, I think Greg Abbey is perfectly fine. The fact that his dub Yusei voice is one of the voices that stuck with me is a testament to that fact, I think. I'm not too hot on how they changed Yusei's personality in the dub, but that's on the writing, not on Greg's performance. And for what it's worth, I think he does a decent, more sarcastic Yusei. That said, in emotional scenes, I do think he lacks some of the oomph that I adore Yuya Miyashita for in the sub. That guy has a pair of lungs on him, whew. But Greg gets a solid 8/10 from me.

Then, we have Jack. Jack, to me, has arguably the best dub voice. Not only does the over-the-top accent Ted Lewis does make him sound suitably arrogant and haughty, there's also a really cool headcanon I've seen floating around again recently that I think goes perfectly with it—namely, that Jack has a Cockney accent (commonly regarded as a lower-class British accent) which he picked up because he wanted to sound posh, whilst not realising that what he's speaking still outs him as a former lower-class citizen. (If somebody could point me to the op of that headcanon again I'd be grateful, tumblr search is being as useless as ever.) The only criticism I could offer is that I do think Takanori Hoshino's even deeper voice in the sub fits Jack just a smidgen better than Ted's. But for these two, honestly both work for me. 10/10 for the posh accent, cheers.

Next up, Aki. I don't necessarily think Erica Schroeder does a terrible Aki voice, but tbh, between her and Ayumi Kinoshita, I prefer the latter by far. It's mostly because of the vocal range, though, which in fact recently came up with a tumblr mutual of mine. Ayumi simply manages to reach deeper registers, which works especially well towards the first half of the show, when Aki's still occasionally making threats as the Black Rose Witch. Erica's performance by comparison isn't terrible, but it's on the whole a little more higher-pitched and soft, almost, whereas I feel like Ayumi gives Aki more depth with her performance, because especially during the Fortune Cup and Dark Signers arc, Aki isn't just the girly female lead, so it fits that she wouldn't sound like it, either. Also, I feel like it was a bit of a missed opportunity that they didn't give her a slightly more posh accent in the dub, too, given that she comes from a very well-off family. So 4/10 for Erica.

As for Crow. With him, I have the opposite problem. The performances Clay Adams and Tom Wayland give are fine character-wise, but their voices honestly sound a little too deep to fit the character well for me. Shintaro Asanuma, by comparison, sometimes breaks out into these higher-pitched squawks in moments of outrage, which I think fit Crow perfectly. It also contrasts his voice better with those of Yusei and Jack. That said, I find it funny how all three of them seemed to share the idea that Crow would have a slightly scratchy voice, as befits his namesake. Also somewhere around 4, maybe 5/10.

Then we've got Ruka/Luna. She's probably the one I have the weakest opinion about. Cassandra Morris and Eileen Stevens both do a decent job with her, though I have to admit I have a bit of a weakness for the specific softness Yuka Terasaki gives her in the sub. But both (or rather, all three) work decently here, I think. 7/10, not bad, not stand-out.

And finally, Rua/Leo. I'll admit, I don't like the performances Morris and Stevens give here (again) nearly as much as Ai Horanai's Rua. I think it's because Horanai's Rua sounds like a much more believable, excited young boy to me. She captures his exuberance and occasional embarrassment in a way that feels less performative than the two English VAs do to me. That said, Leo's personality still tracks perfectly, so 6/10 for the English VAs.

(Let me tell you one thing, though: It was weird hearing the dub voices again after I've stuck to sub watching for so long now. Both in a good way (they're so funny) and a bad way (Crow, are you hoarse?).)

[pinkrifle]

Can you do some Headcanons of Reader comforting Clay when he's in a bad mood?

— 🥃 comforting Clay Puppington when he’s in a bad mood ! 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

i noticed there has been a grave shortage of clay puppington fics !!1!1

TWs . . . cussing, drinking

“Jesus, as if they couldn’t give me ENOUGH paperwork and have me answer ENOUGH calls! it’s like they fucking want me to quit. . . I need a drink.” your darling boyfriend uttered as a greeting, stumbling through the door a tidbit late from his job. Being the mayor, nothing was or ever would be easy, but you wanted to lessen the blow for your sweetheart.

“Before you take that drink!—” you whisper-shouted, trying to sound as normal and calm as possible. Clay, with his glass raised mid air and a bottle of jack in his other hand, sighed at you. “Whaaa…..”

Embracing Clay in a hug, he flinched. It caught him off guard, greatly, even though you two were well dating. He sighed once again but let himself sink into your arms, resting his head back, it seemed like all he could do was sigh.

You both slowly sunk down into his study chair, Clay still grumbled and upset. No signs of Clay feeling any better yet, but that didn’t discourage you from peppering soft little kisses on his cheeks, going down to his neck (which tickled and made him chuckle a little bit, but he’s stubborn, so his face quickly went back to its grumpy frame.)

A smile spread across your face, blush spreading across both of your faces. Both for different reasons, you loved how Clay reacted with the smallest of actions and touches, and Clay, although he would never say it, loved how your soft lips fell on different parts of him.

“This uh . . . This is better than just a drink between the two of us?. .Not—Not that i don’t like your kisses, but wouldn’t it be muuuch better to just laugh over some jack?” He looked up at you, pleading. Your only response was a shake of your head and a half-disappointed look on your face, he sighed and his head bowed back down.

You knew that wasn’t him speaking, rather his stress that’s been piling on his shoulders. That’s all he knew. Drink, complain, cry, drink, complain, cry. But you didn’t think that was right, you wanted to show Clay something could be different. That he didn’t have to swim in his tears and musky alcohol that sat in his cup day to day, leaving a stench on him that put a frown on the inside of you, but you knew it didn’t have to be that way. Small steps.

Still is old grumpy self, you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to rub, Clay let himself relax for once, still a little grumpy he couldn’t have his afternoon drink, especially on such a terrible day. But he let himself feel good for once.

Your hands worked its way through the knots in all the spots of Clay’s back you could reach, a couple of moans and groans escaped him as he simply melted under your touch.

A couple extra kisses here and there, with the fire crackling in the background and the sun’s rays melting through the curtains, you both felt at peace for a little. It was so relaxing, the feeling being mutual despite sharing two different roles in this position.

Clay looked up at the dim light that shone above his study, then darted his eyes to the fire. He was too relaxed and frozen in place to really turn his head and look at you, but all he had to do was close his eyes some more and imagine your beautiful face, that—that is what calmed him the most.

Your face lightened and your gaze softened some more, watching a pink blush spread across Clay’s cheeks no amount of makeup could ever fake.

“See? Isn’t this . . . great?” You struggled to find words, but you knew exactly what you wanted to say, and he understood as well. “I know you think alcohol is your only partner, your only outlet, but i’m confident that you could confide in other things to make you feel.. at least the tiniest bit better. You don’t even have to do this in front of people.. just us, here, cozy and warm.” you whispered, hoping your words could touch Clay the way you wanted them to. (Clay didn’t understand shit you said LMAOOO)

“But alcohol gives me the same warm and cozy feeling, and we could both share it, no?” Clay muttered, probably half joking.

“Is the feeling of appreciating empty, bitter tasting liquor that costs too much and lasts too little better than simply just. . . being appreciated by someone that could actually appreciate you back?” You didn’t hesitate with any of your words, you didn’t sound pitiful, or sad, you sounded genuine. And he needed that.

“Oh…” was all Clay could utter, closing his eyes and letting the stress of his day melt away. As long as he was with you, simply basking in your presence, he had to admit all his worries went away in those moments. But not out loud, never.

A/N . . . OMFG. I AM SO SORRY GUYS 😭 i had MASSIVE writers block for .. a YEAR . A WHOLE YEAR. gosh i am so fkn sorry ahh 💔 i’m only just getting back into moral orel and stuff, requests will be slow but WILL be done by the end of the moonthhh ~ thank you for waiting! <3 xoxo, pauline

i LOOOOEVEVEVEVd writing this, even though Clay was a little OOC (i’m sorry ahhh!!! <\3) i hope you enjoyed, thank you so much <3

[missanne]

The great war-

author's notes:This chapter was kind of hard to write, I had a relapse and the panic attack was inspired by one I had, I'm better. I'm giving you the freedom to fill my DM with chapter requests, stay hydrated!

The floor was full of facial masks and judging by the expression of doubt on Satoro's face, he wouldn't know how to choose so easily; Yn was making clay masks and faced the same dilemma: indecision about which clay to use; both in similar situations shared, in addition to the same feeling of doubt, the same decision, to focus on repair and reconstruction. The boy, with white hair, chose the strawberry mask and the chosen clay was the white one, when they both met they laughed mutually:

_ So you think I need to rebuild, huh?

_ Take it easy Yn, I don't even know what all these agents and acids are for, but you're going to explain it to me and only use half.

_ Half! For it to work, you have to use it all!

_ Sad, this mask will have to work with only half. Between laughs, the young people got ready for the night, they chose Hello Kitty pajamas, and lively music for the background, sitting in front of the bed while Yn calmly applied the mask to her face, as soon as she finished it was Satoro's turn to apply it to her, in an attempt to get to know the girl in front of him better, he carefully asks:

_ Yn?

_ Hi

_ Why did you decide to do an exchange in Japan?

_ Because the question is, nowadays, many young people are interested in Japan...

_ It's just that you seemed a little lost on the first day, before... you know...

_ being kidnapped.

_ Yeah, and you were also very calm about all of this...

_ I wasn't calm, I know how to lie well and hide my pain even better, I've been kidnapped a couple of times before this, so I kind of already knew what was going to happen, but why did you apply to watch over and take care of a foreigner who barely speaks Japanese properly? _ My father told me to, he said it was my duty…

_ In other words, you were forced?

_ No! I'm here because I like you… I mean, you're a great friend, and you're very interesting…

_ Oh yes….

_ But what about your parents, have they called you yet? Or have you told them what happened?

_ My parents don't care about me, well of course as long as I don't die here without having a reserve of money to take my body to our family's grave. But anyway, I haven't told anyone yet, I just sent a message to Mrs. Smith, who is almost like a mother to me, saying that I'm adapting.

_ Do you need help?

Yn's eyes, which until then had been tired, took on a tone of unfocus, something similar to the thousand-yard stare, and with a monotonous voice she says:

_ No, I'm fine mentally, thank you for your concern. _ if that's what you say…

The silence was awkward, but after a few seconds, yn says:

_ Sorry, I ruined the mood…

POV: yn

He looks at me confused, even with the pain that cuts through my chest, I can't stop looking at him, it's like there's a magnet connecting us.

_ There's no need to apologize, yn, because I was the one who started it...

Useless

I try to ignore what my inner voice says, and once again I try to focus on the mask that's on his face, it's time to take it off, I think.

_ I-it's time to take it off-

The air in my lungs disappears, I start to shake, and it seems like my blood pressure has dropped, because I feel ice rising in my legs, I see his face, the concern and panic are evident, but the pain in my chest prevents me from thinking straight, I don't want to get sick here, what would he think? That I'm weak...

You shouldn't have been born!

Get out of here!

You can have my last name and enjoy all its benefits, but know that you are not one of us.

You are unbearable, I can't stand hearing your voice anymore, I can't stand seeing you anymore, get out of my sight once and for all!!

All my thoughts are in disarray, I remember things that should be buried, I don't know who said them to me, but I feel the pain they caused me, it feels like my lungs are being crushed and my brain refuses to shut down, I try to stop thinking about it, and I try to remember all the good things that have ever happened to me, but they all seem to have been infected with my past and mixed together.

I need to stop, I need to turn it off…

_yn, breathe…

satoro gojo… he’s in front of me telling me to breathe…

POV: satoro gojo

she was shaking and scared, her uneven breathing was accompanied by tears and this completely undid her mask. If I hadn’t brought up the subject, she would probably be smiling because of some stupid joke, but here we are; when she started crying, I remembered Geto’s words to the guys before we went to find her and I felt a knot in my stomach. Maybe that wasn’t right, but what could I do? It was already done. With each passing second, she curled up more and put her hands on her head and breathed deeper and deeper. It was the first time that this had happened to me. Usually in my life, I was the one who had the crises and he comforted me. I remembered what he typically did on those days and tried to replicate it with her. I put my hand on her shoulder and softly said:

_yn, breathe — for a moment, I realized that I was heard, so I continued

_ breathe... 1... 2... 3 now let it out slowly.... That's it, now let's go again... 1... 2... 3....

_ thank you Satoro — she said in a weak voice

_ Do you want to talk?

_ no, please, let's watch a movie or sleep

_ do you have a movie in mind?

_ it can be grown-ups, as long as it's a comedy movie, I don't mind.

I needed to make her a little disconnected from herself, and focused on something else, so I put on Sailor Moon, who knows she might relax; because until now her body was tense, as if I was going to assault her at any moment.

End of Satoro Gojo's point of view.

When the film was halfway through, the white-haired boy noticed that she was too focused on the film, he picked up the phone and sent a short and self-explanatory message to the pinned group:

_ I need to find a psychologist, as soon as possible, then I'll explain in more detail.

tag:@lunaekalenda

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

im trying to imagine if batman the animated series characters had social media- but specifically pertaining to the question: who would post thirst traps on insta or get caught being horny on main or smthn like that. i could sincerely see bruce wayne having a patrick bateman-like social media presence, but i feel like two face would too? for some reason? i feel like he would love the attention.

Oh Bruce and Harvey definitely have similar posts but Harv has those moments where he’s like - “kicking your grandma down the stairs, whatchu doin?” Posts where he then posts a picture of a box of raisins spilled on the floor. Random shit like that.

I feel like joker would post horny shit about Batman that everyone thinks is a gimmick until he says something majorly eyebrow raising and he has to pull out the, “you thought it was a joke???” He also posts those bad dad jokes and one really poor taste joke that no one actually thinks is funny.

Jervis would have a blog that everyone thinks is a misogynist page until they realize it’s just a kink side page and his main is an account of theatre posts and animals, reposts of like- baking channels and tea pages.

Harley, and Ivy have a couples page and their own page where they post about common signs of health, mental health issues, plant maintenance and where they’re going to see their favourite bands. But Ivy does chaotic story times with a straight face.

Clay face doesn’t have much of a social media prescience but when he does he says weird stuff or posts about the good old days of cinema, and pushes out like- three guys he thinks were stupid hot when they worked in silent films. Constantly has to post about allegations that he’s dating his manager and say they’re not true when they are

Scarface probably has a Facebook page where he posts very obvious mob activity, but people think it’s a joke until they find he’s been arrested.

I struggle with Mr. Freeze, but I imagine he makes really bittersweet posts about the time with Nora, followed by a bunch of reposts of motivational advice and baby care stuff. Then the occasional science video.

Crane makes very controversial science opinions and lives to troll several safety boards. He’s been blocked by half of them and has been warned against on several of their pages. Those that friend him are mailed a crow feather so he knows where they live so he has very few mutuals. Has a tumble account dedicated to pseudoscience and the frequent Elvira rant. Really sweet and offers actual advice to people who reach out in private to ask for help with their psychology work or diagnosis.

I know this is supposed to be a thirst trap thing but I feel like it’s devolved so I’ll just put in these next two

Penguin posts pictures of him and his wife on excellent dates, and is generally perveived well until someone (read: Edward) decides to insult one or call out his blatant abuse of power where he’s then met with several threads of how he’s so awful for abusing an old man… followed by an accidental admission to crime.

Edward mostly fact checks posts, and videos, offers help on game production and offers critique and beta testing. He runs at least two side blogs, one for how to protect your financial assets from big businesses (aided by Harvey) and one on the riddle of the day. When people get mad they harp on him and the then puts their approximate location in their inbox. He’s gone on one rant, ONCE in front of people about how Batman is stupid and got grilled but later was defended and brought back into popular public opinion. People frequently thirst over pictures of him when he was involved in projects or when he was in community theatre but he never indulges them, because he likes to keep them waiting. He’s made a couple of suggestive remarks his very small set of fangirls squeak over but only to stroke his own ego. Very short very blurred images of himself because he doesn’t know how to angle the camera and is almost always walking somewhere in his house to get a snack before walking around and talking with his hands.

His tumblr has multiple image boards of horror movies like reanimator or other science themes even though hes an engineering major. Which he reminds people of when they ask him about movie logic.

@virginstoner666

[impossiblesuitcase]

Mutually Moronic Marriage - part 3.

Cinder found Kai amongst the frenzy of confused guests. They stood in a hallway, waiting to be ushered into the safety tunnels west beneath the palace. Kai spotted her as he waved them along. “Cinder!”

Her call went unheard over the blaring evacuation alarms. She preserved her oxygen until she was by his side. 

“What happened?” Kai asked, no lack of gratitude on his face that she had come back in one piece.

“I had to give up his mind. I couldn’t have kept him distracted for much longer. He’ll come after us any second now.” Something warm latched onto her shoulder. 

“I’m back!” Tressa gasped, steadying herself on Cinder. “What do you need me to do? Fight? Distract?”

Cinder considered asking for a shirt and cargo pants so she wouldn’t be so encumbered in her ballgown. If only she had a moment to change.

Kai beat her to the punch. “Tressa! Just the person I need.”

She balled her fists. “Of course, Your Majesty. Anything, I’m here to—”

He lifted his crown with much more ease than Cinder and handed it to Tressa. “Put this somewhere safe, please.”

Tressa accepted it with a deadpan. As she walked away, Cinder could hear her mumbling, “Sure Tressa, you’re so valuable that I’ll make you a courier. Not stay and help or anything like that.”

“Did it work?” Thorne shouted as he and Cress ran to them.

“He believed the whole thing.” Cinder was still a little shocked the plan had worked. There were no guarantees, but once Dolion was under her control, Kai and the guards began evacuating all the guests. “He must not be as good with his glamour as he makes out to be.”

“I’ve got eyes on him,” Cress reported, monitoring the CCTV screens on her port. “He’s in the central hallway.”

Cinder frowned. “Why aren’t the security protocols working? The doors should shut down.” Kai didn’t answer, so Cinder didn’t push. “Doesn’t matter. Cress—lock every door he comes across that heads to the west. Push him towards the entrance to the rooftop in the east. I want to lure him away from the tunnels.”

“Make sure you unlock them again to let guards and staff escape,” Kai added.

“On it.” Cress began furiously tapping the screen.

An older couple sauntered up to Kai without any particular urgency. “Your Majesty, our hotel is not expecting us to arrive so early. You must let us return to the ball.”

Kai wore a placid agreeableness on his face which meant screaming on the inside. “My apologies, but the ball is now cancelled. If you could please follow security procedures and exit this way.”

The couple left rather unhappily, judging by their audible complaining, “ever since that cyborg stole the crown…”

Cinder was too vexed to argue. Her attention stretched like rubber in a million different directions and the countless bodies around her seemed to crush out any space to think. Her breaths shallowed as she ushered the last guests forward, dismissing their queries with a lot less tact than Kai. 

They headed for the tunnels until Cinder saw the intersection leading up to the roof. 

“Get everyone to safety. I’ll go deal with him.”

Kai wheeled around. “Not on your own.”

For so long, Cinder had had to rely on others just to survive. Now she didn’t have to, and she wouldn’t endanger anyone any more than necessary. “He wants me,” she enunciated. “It’s the only way we can keep him away from the people.”

“Take guards with you.”

“I can handle this.”

Just as Kai was about to launch into a lecture about her recklessness, Garrison Clay and his guards, including Liam Kinney, approached them. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Seeing Garrison, her mentor and friend, was a breath of fresh air for Cinder. “Garrison, thank the stars.”

“Garrison,” Kai interrupted. “Can you lend Cinder some of your guards?”

He nodded. “Of course—” 

“No,” she demanded. “Garrison, the thaumaturge armed some of the guests with weapons. Could you locate and disarm them?”

Garrison appeared conflicted, and yet his loyalties won out as he bowed to Cinder. “Certainly, Your Majesty.”

Satisfaction filled her sternum. “I’m going,” she announced. Kai’s indignation flared up again, but she set a hand on his chest. “Trust me.”

From over her shoulder, Garrison’s meaningful nod at Kai was unseen. When she turned back he was whispering something aside to Kinney.

Kai huffed slowly, kissed her, and began chasing after Torin at the end of the fleeing crowd. Garrison and his guards followed.

Watching from the sidelines, Thorne raised an eyebrow. “He’s right. You can’t do this alone. I know you want to, Cinder, but we’re not letting that happen.”

She glowered. Thorne, after years of knowing her, was immune to that kind of venom. Even Cress peered up from her port with warning.

Begrudgingly, Cinder recalculated her plan. “Fine. Thorne, you can play dumb, right? What am I saying—of course you can. Come with me.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Thorne yelled after her, but she was already running. 

He discarded his suit coat and was set to sprint when a warm hand clenched his forearm. 

“Here,” said Cress, pulling out her hair tie and thrusting it into his hand. “For Cinder.”

He stashed it in his pocket with a kiss farewell—some recognition of the fear he saw in her frown—and sprinted up the hall.

———

“Happy to be of service,” Thorne panted breathlessly, “but could you enlighten me as to what exactly that service will entail?”

Thorne had wasted no time in catching up to Cinder. Each door they passed through locked as Cress monitored their progress.

“I remember from his trial that he was a third-tier thaumaturge,” Cinder explained, “but I was able to manipulate him in the ballroom easily. So you distract him enough to lower his guard, and I’ll glamour him.”

Thorne pulled out his port and began searching. He nearly slammed into a wall until Cinder snatched him back by the elbow.

“Watch it!” she berated.

“Cress sent me the CCTV feeds. He’s heading up to the rooftop right now.”

“Good, we’ll go through the east entrance.”

Thorne wrinkled his nose. “The rooftop gives him a lot of room to evade us.”

“It’s too dangerous inside, the rooftop’s the only place where he won’t be able to hurt anyone.” 

Her point was proven by the dozens of maids still rushing past as the intercom called out evacuation procedures. Dolion had shown himself willing to take down bystanders, and Cinder wouldn’t take any chances. But she knew Thorne held his own in a fight, and the two could work together on instinct.

Cinder threw open the stairwell door and began scampering up. Her lungs constricted but she refused to slow her pace.

“By the way, will we have a high chance of dying? ‘Cause I booked tickets to take Cress wakeboarding next week, but if I’m going to die”—a wheeze—“I’ll get a refund now.” 

She shot him a look. “Stop blabbering and save your breath!” 

Her head was free of her exquisite but heavy crown, yet now loose hair impeded her vision—equally annoying her. It made her slow to register which doorway was their exit. Cinder shuffled through petticoats to prepare to kick down the door, but faithfully Cress had left it unlocked.

Thorne returned to the feed. “He’s on the roof.”

Her fingers flicked him closer. “Okay, he can’t manipulate you, but he has a gun. Do you have a tranquiliser?”

He tapped his pocket. “Borrowed it from one of your guards. Well, took it without asking, but same difference.”

“I’m going to attempt the non-violent route, but if he isn’t cooperating, don’t hesitate to use it.”

He nodded. 

Cinder rose and faced the door with arms set in defence. She stepped forward.

“Cin! Wait!” 

Cinder spun, eyes wild. “What? Something on the cameras?”

“Cress gave me this for you.” He tossed her the hair tie. “She knew you’d need it.”

Cinder caught it mid-air and blessedly cleared away her discordant hair. “Oh, I love that woman.”

He grinned. “Me too.”

———

Tepid summer air met them as they marched onto the rooftop. It was illuminated only by Luna’s light and the dim overhead lamps. The rays reflected from the gems in Cinder’s sparkling dress, making her, essentially, a human disco ball. 

Of all the gowns Tressa could’ve chosen…

Thorne threw her a thumbs up. “Subtle.”

“Well the goal is to find him…”

A shrill laugh stabbed Cinder’s ears. Goosebumps rose on her skin.

“And found me you have.” 

Behind the entry was a shroud of murky darkness. Dolion emerged like a lion, prowling about with beady eyes and metallic hunger. His prey was exact; he wasted no time in stalking up to them. Gone was his past composure, his pretend clemency.

“So, this is the dude you were talking about,” Thorne said, “gotta say, I’m disappointed.”

Cinder had no choice but to walk backwards as Dolion closed in. “Why’s that, Captain?”

“Here I thought all thaumaturges were supposed to be good-looking and well”—he gestured to Dolion—“the evidence just speaks for itself here.” 

Dolion didn’t react, though Cinder thought there was an eye twitch. Perhaps she was imagining it. She wasn’t imagining how he was cornering them. There was enough space to run, but just as the rooftop lights emphasised the beading in her gown, the silver of his gun was unmistakable. 

Thorne offered a mocking grin. “Now, I can’t say that I completely relate to you, given the massive disparity of attractiveness between us, but I do understand what prison is like. Maybe if you surrender now, I’ll ask the Grand Minister to send some skincare products to your cell—my treat.” 

Cinder’s back hit a ledge, where one missed step could send you hurtling to the balconies below. The only other safe spot was the alcove behind the entrance, a few paces away.

Better at nonchalance, Thorne stepped into Dolion’s space and loosened his tie. “I said maybe though, so unless you’re compliant with us right now, don’t expect anything from me.”

Now Dolion was definitely twitching as he shoved Thorne away. “You seem to believe that this is the final instalment of my attack. You have no idea what else I have prepared.”

Cinder buried a smirk as a message flicked across her retina. Garrison has retrieved all the guns from the guests, was the latest comm from Cress. 

Dolion was bluffing. 

“If you will make no amends to my disenfranchisement, I will no longer show courtesy.” He turned to Thorne. “You may want to leave for this part.”

Thorne touched his heart. “You know, that is so kind of you to offer. I’m amazed that you’ve made up a moral code that allows you to kill people but spare their friends from watching. Wow.”

Dolion sneered. This was perfect. Thorne was distracting him just as she hoped, and now he seemed agitated enough that she could lock onto his—

Wait. No.

When she sought out his gift she faced an impenetrable wall of bioelectrical power. 

She scowled. Of course now he would be guarding it. His mind had been too easy to infiltrate in the ballroom. Almost as if he—

“Why did you let me manipulate you?” she demanded.

A pause. 

“To give you time to evacuate everyone, of course. It’s the polite thing to do.”

A trillion ideas raced through Cinder’s mind. She gripped the ledge. “The tunnels? But…they’re a secret. How did you know?”

Surprise crossed his mouth. “Oh. So you have tunnels. I must confess, I didn’t know. I just had faith that wherever you tried to lure me would be the opposite of where you’d put your people.”

She tensed. Hold on. His threat was that he would control defenceless guests to fire on the crowd. But he had chosen to come here, on the opposite side of where the guests would be. If he had known she was trying to trick him, why would he abandon his main source of attack?

He wouldn’t. 

Garrison has retrieved all the guns from the guests. 

“Bombs?” she choked.

Thorne startled at her random proclamation.

Dolion’s smile was sly. Neither a confirmation nor denial of her conjecture.

Her thoughts scrambled for her commlink with Cress. Where are the guns now? 

Still in the tunnels with us, why? Cress replied.

I think they’re bombs. Get them out now.

Her guess must have registered to Thorne by the way his eyes widened in horror. He snatched his tranquiliser gun and aimed it at Dolion too late. 

Bang!

“Thorne!” Cinder screamed.

The tranquiliser clattered to the ground. Thorne groaned, pressing his shoulder to staunch the bleeding, but he turned back to her with confidence. “I’m”—he grimaced—“I’m okay.”

Dolion twirled his gun. “You can’t say I didn’t offer, Captain.” 

Thorne laughed—turned cough halfway through. “Dude, I’ve been bitten in the arm by a wolf-cosplaying-man. You’re gonna have to do better than a gunshot.”

When Cinder came forward to shield Thorne, Dolion sent a warning shot before their feet. “Ah-ah-ah, Selene.” He clucked his tongue. “I am not interested in killing you.”

“But wasn’t that your goal?” she accused, backing up behind Thorne. “To get justice for what I did to you?”

“What would I gain from your death?” he replied lightly. “See, you wouldn’t feel bad about dying for others. Always so noble. But imagine, I kill your friend. I kill your guests. But I preserve you alive.” His smile darkened. “Then how would you feel?”

She gripped Thorne’s shirt to steel herself. Also to make sure he didn’t keel over from pain. “Everyone will know it was you.”

“Eh. What matters is that if you had stayed with everyone else, you might have actually ruined my plan. Quite the mechanic, I hear? But I believe it is you who left your people’s side to go play hero.”

She couldn’t let the sting of his words take root, and yet didn’t have any strength to respond. 

“Majesty!”

The sound of pounding feet spilled from the stairs. Tressa and Kinney burst from the exit.

“What are you doing here?!” Cinder cried.

“Grand Minister Clay sent me,” Kinney exclaimed. “And Tressa, she insisted—”

“I’m here to help!” yelled Tressa, her tone just as much an order as it was support.

Cinder shook her head. “It’s not safe, you have to—” Her thoughts stopped churning with plans. A moment too late, she found Kinney and Tressa’s vacant faces staring at her.

“Indeed, you will be helpful.”

Dolion handed Tressa the gun. Thaumaturges always controlled others to do their dirty work.

Cinder reached for the shell of Thorne’s ear. “We have to warn everyone.”

He widened his stance. Looked back at her and mouthed, “We can’t get away.”

There was always a way out, expect Tressa’s body was positioning the gun for Thorne’s head.

There was always a way out, except no commlink with Kai, or Torin, or anyone of the military officials would connect. The rooftop was a blocked net point so that no devices could interfere with the departing and arriving ships. Only Cress’s link was open, she having hacked into the network.

Cress hadn’t responded.

With the tranquiliser too far away, Thorne offered no resistance as Kinney captured his hands. Still, his voice betrayed his unease. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before Kinney, but I’ve always liked you better than Jacin. This is definitely not a plea to keep you from killing me, I just thought it was time you knew.”

Kinney, under Dolion’s control, snarled. Cinder’s fingers itched to wrench him away. 

Dolion cackled. “I watched you for a long time from prison, Selene. Always ready to run in first, to be killed for others. Your so-called selflessness. But that isn’t true. You only want to protect those you love, and the rest? You spit on and kick and smear with the blood of your crimes.” He glanced at the portwatch on his wrist, an old, beaten-up model he must’ve stolen after he escaped. “I hoped that you’d see reason and surrender, but I doubted it. And yet, now that I’ve used the alternative, I can’t help but feel this end will be much more gratifying.”

He watched the time with morbid glee. Inclined his ear closer to the west, where the people were secured in the tunnels.

Cinder wondered if it would be a big enough explosion that they could hear from the roof. Or was it so far underground that they wouldn’t know until they uncovered rubble and mangled remains.

Either way, no sound reached them.

“What?” Dolion muttered.

Cinder’s despair jolted. 

As he thumped his watch and cursed, she heard something wrong. It had been there at the ball as well. 

There. His inflection wavered. 

His pronunciation was wrong for his accent, and then Cinder remembered that this man wasn’t really from Artemisia. He’d been born in an outer sector and managed to become a thaumaturge with his strong gift. He must fake the accent that Winter had and Jacin had and Cinder probably had as a child.

This was a man who had spent his life trying to push up his station. This was why he wasn’t beautiful like the others—he couldn’t afford the surgery. Why insults aggravated him so much—an attack on the image he’d spent so long perfecting. 

Beneath all that, he was a mere third-tier thaumaturge. And Cinder was Princess bloody Selene. There wasn’t a reputation about her gift for nothing.

There was always a way out. 

Cinder realised that Thorne was inching his foot to the tranquiliser, imperceptibly pulling it back to him. She stopped him with a tug of his shirt. 

“Don’t fight. Play dumb,” she cautioned with weighty undertone. “You still want to take Cress wakeboarding, right?”

He tilted his head. Mute communication passed between them. He opened his mouth, but she held out her hand in a wait.

Now, for her part.

She fought her own instincts and possible regret for what she was about to do. Cinder peeled back her own mental safeguards, leaving her bioelectricity exposed.

In the ballroom, Dolion had fired at her, despite now claiming he didn’t want to kill her. He knew the crowd was fake, but he couldn’t know if she was too. But he’d had the upper hand, and he became cocky.

He believed he had the upper hand now.

“You won’t win,” she hissed into the air.

Thorne glanced back. Her hand out again. Wait.

Dolion crept into her mind slowly, cautiously, taking it in gradual pieces. She plastered her face with terror. 

He had buried under her skin. Targeted her insecurities. Of course her defence would splinter. 

Satisfied that she hadn’t noticed, he maintained his expression. “Yes, I’m sure you think that.” He was soon distracted back to his main concern, assaulting his watch with clicks and codes.

Cinder remained baffled. Desperate. Afraid.

His mind was weighed down now, torn between herself and Tressa and Kinney and his growing anxiety. It was evident from Tressa’s quivering lips, trying to speak to no avail. Kinney’s face falling out of neutrality into alarm and then back again.

Click, click.

“WHY AREN’T THEY WORKING?!”

The thunderous voice was rough, incensed. Not Artemisian.

She jammed her fingers into Thorne’s back. Now.

A heartbeat. Then, “Ahem.”

The cursing stalled.

“Listen, pal,” Thorne offered in the most obnoxious voice she had ever heard from him. “Maybe terrorism just isn’t the right career for you. It does require some innate skill, you know.”

Dolion whipped around.

“I mean: no back-up plan for your back-up plan? All those years plotting in prison and it never crossed your mind? Seriously?”

That twitching eye bloomed into something unbridled. Cinder had hoped Dolion would be cocky. But he was manic. 

“All I’m saying is there’s no shame in admitting that you’re just not nearly good enough to achieve anything. How about you and I have a chat about it over coffee, after your inevitable defeat and arrest, of course.” 

She felt for his power, so firmly lodged into her own. She had practically invited him into her mind. But she never let guests make themselves at home there. 

His power faltered. Briefly, minisculely. But it was enough. Right in her own arena, she sunk her claws into his gift, twisting what she could of it towards her.

It wasn’t all of it. But in the part she held was a burning, incoming impulsiveness to—

Cinder reeled back.

Fury twisted Dolion’s face. “If you don’t shut your—”

Thorne scoffed. “Buddy, I’m doing you a service here. If you just—”

In one swift act Dolion commanded Tressa to fire. All of her but for her hands broke free of the glamour. She screamed, and Kinney—free too—scrambled after her.

No sound of impact could be heard over her sobbing, or Dolion’s inhuman laughter. 

“Tressa!” Kinney howled, trying in vain to rip the gun away.

Her sobs hiccupped as she gasped and fell to the ground. Staring up at Cinder’s bejewelled empress crown, she uttered, “What? But I…took it away.”

Thorne’s body crumpled into Cinder; his shirt matted with blood, his eyes empty. But not from the pain of a gunshot. No, Cinder too stared vacantly into the distance. 

Those empty looks were not of shock, but of illusion. The wounded man and cowardly woman dissolved into nothing. 

Something strangled escaped Dolion. Tressa dropped the gun.

Shell shocked, he did not notice Kinney lurch for the gun until it was aimed at his head, and before he could reclaim anyone’s mind, Cinder’s voice rang out.

“Excellent cooperation, Captain.”

Dolion staggered back, searching the empty rooftop for them. Every piece of his gift lay bare, and in that millisecond of uncertainty, Cinder struck.

With horror and brutality, she did not show mercy. He jerked forward, writhing and squirming and gripping his head in agony. Deranged shrieks reverberated over the concrete as he slammed into the ground.

The flesh-and-blood-and-metal Cinder finally emerged from the hidden alcove, Thorne beside her. 

“The guns!” she gasped. “They could still detonate at any time, Kinney—you keep him here!”

Cinder kept a tight hold on Dolion as she raced to the door, but Thorne followed and hauled her back with his good arm. 

“Wait!”

“No, we have to—”

Thorne shoved his port under her nose. “Watch. They’re all still alive.”

On the screen was footage from the tunnels, broken up into four views. The guests were barricaded to the largest room, with Torin at the centre to attend to their flitting and fretting. From another view, a team of military soldiers—higher ranking than the palace guards—were hunkered over a pile of guns. The shells of the weapons were hollow, with crude but likely effective detonation mechanisms inside. 

On the third screen, Kai was talking to Huy Deshal, the Chairman of National Security, with Cress to his left. She was typing on her port just as Cinder received a message. The guns have been disabled. Kai guessed it was a trick as well. The military is running a full-scale check on the palace but they haven’t found any other threats yet.

Thorne steadied Cinder. “It’s okay. It’s over.” 

She wanted to collapse. Thought she might, too, until she remembered Thorne was in a much worser state and propped him up with her arms.

Kinney helped his sister to her feet. “I can be a courier,” Tressa decided shakily, turning back and forth to where the mirage of Cinder and Thorne had been. “A very noble job. Yes, can I stick with that next time, please?”

Only Thorne chuckled, pityingly.

Cinder dared to release her hold on the thaumaturge. “I underestimated him. I overestimated myself.” She slumped. “I put you all in danger.” 

“It’s my duty,” said Kinney, although she was no longer queen of Luna, so there wasn’t any.

Thorne snorted. “It’s pretty much the territory of being your friend.”

Tressa squared up her shoulders and enveloped Cinder in an embrace, catching Thorne in it too. Her teeth chattered. “We’re here to help you because we love you! But please, just make me a courier next time.”

Cinder laughed despite herself and hugged her back. “Then don’t come along next time. I can’t let anyone else get shot for me.”

Dolion, laying limp on the ground, gazed at Luna and smiled.

———

The guards arrived to drag Dolion away shortly thereafter. He was so void of emotion he could have been comatose if not for his moving feet, but Cinder trailed close behind out of caution.

“Thorne,” said Tressa, still beset with trembling, “you do know that you were asking to get shot with all those insults, right?”

Cinder massaged the ache at the base of her neck. “That was the point. Dolion needed to be aggravated enough to become complacent. Exposing the glamour was the last thing I needed to get his whole mind.”

“It’s lucky he didn’t realise. I realised almost immediately.”

Cinder’s thoughts back-pedalled. When she entered Dolion’s gift it was the part controlling Tressa and Kinney’s minds, but not their bodies. In sending the glamour it had been subconsciously transmitted to them as well. “You knew? How?” 

Tressa pointed at Cinder’s head. “Nice crown.”

Cinder reached up, feeling for her ponytail. “I don’t—”

“Glamour-Cinder did.”

She cringed. “Stars. I didn’t have a second to think before I was yanking Thorne away.”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d just kept the hairstyle I did for you,” Tressa grumbled.

“It makes sense that it was fake,” Kinney grunted, directing them through the hallways. With his ever-professional decorum he could’ve blended in with the Earthen guards—if not for his uniform. “I knew Thorne couldn’t come up with insults that creative.”

“Hey!” Thorne objected. “It was me. The glamour was only the last-second. And really man? To think I complimented you.” 

Kinney showed a rare grin. Iko had been rubbing off on him.

Once they reached the palace courtyard, Thorne stretched out his stiff muscles with a groan. He winced at his bad shoulder. “I came here for a fun night, and I got an adrenaline-charged secret mission. You can take me off the guest list next year.”

“I’m so sick of this happening,” Cinder whimpered.

As Dolion was hauled over to a line of fifty military soldiers, Thorne rested his bad arm on her shoulder. “Maybe you should stop making the ball open to the public.”

Notes - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Yes I gave Dolion the most NPC villain dialogue ever. All villains are legally required to monologue.

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[061801]

im a mess omg

Okay firstly I was anxious to write this post because I'm like where do I even start? Then I looked at this blog and damn I'm a mess here too. I swear I have like blog OCD. I want 1 billion blogs for each aesthetic or colour and emotion its ridiculous. ANYWAY...

Today I want to work on myself. I feel like everyday I get distracted from what I should really be doing. I feel lucky though because there's an energy pulling me towards what I am supposed to be doing... I think. It's making me feel uncomfortable in positions I don't need to be in anymore. Drinking and partying used to be my personality. Like I started to look back and ask myself if I would even hangout with any of the friends I have if it weren't for our mutual addictions? Most of them, no. That doesn't make them bad people but they're just not the people I really wanna be around without alcohol.

So now I'm starting to ask myself... who am I without alcohol? Who do I want to surround myself around? What do I like doing? I think about my interests and hobbies when I was a kid. Gymnastics, playing piano, and photography and videography. I used to like drawing and painting and making clay sculptures. I like singing and dancing too. I actually had a crazy amount of hobbies. I feel like I had so many I never got really good at one. I used to be pretty good at art but I don't know what it is, when I try now I can't think of what to draw or paint to save the life of me. It really sucks. Gymnastics is still really intriguing to me but REALLY hard, and extremely dangerous and also really expensive. So when I can convince myself to get out of bed, I try my best to paint or do photography. I like doing portrait photography but I only have one friend who I hangout with and it gets boring shooting the same person. I've shot a couple of my friends but they don't end up liking the photos so they don't let me post 95% of them and right now the pictures I take are specifically to draw attention to my work so I can start charging. So if I'm not making any money or have any content to post, there's really no point. Yes I have fun doing it for the hell of it but I would like to do something with my photos. Maybe I should take photos of products or cars soon.

On the topic of being distracted though, I never have much money because I only work part time. Therefore any money I decide to spend I feel so guilty about it because I really don't have it, its just... I really want SOMETHING to make me happy. Whether it's alcohol, weed, clothes, food or talking to guys tbh. I've gotten used to giving in to whatever I want as long as I have the capability to do it. So I feel like in brief moments where I can't get myself what I want right away, I feel sad or bored. I want to actually work towards something I want in life but I just can't figure out what it is. I want to go back to school but I'm having a really hard time with what I want to actually pursue. I wanted to do hairstyling really badly but they only have fast track and I'm confused why they don't have a regular one. I'm not really in a position to be able to move to go to a regular course either so if they don't have it I'm going to have to pick something else. I really want to work on my G2 which I have to hangout with my mom in order to do, but i'm always stoned or when I go hangout with her I get drunk. (it is my fault that I give in, she doesn't make me do anything I don't want to. I just know its there and I get tempted very easily which I need to work on and have gotten better at.) But I just texted her asking when we should practice next because I just want to get that going. I applied to a few jobs. I feel at least a little better than before. I should call shoppers to get a refill on my prescription which I will... then I gotta text my manager and ask her when I work next and if I can pick up my cheque some time. Okay. I'm getting really distracted and ADHD and I can't focus on this anymore lol. Now all I'm thinking about is what I want to do all day to distract myself from how bored I am. First of all shower, and shave. I could do my hair, my makeup, my nails. Clean my house, take out the garbage and recycling, put dresser in my room for now, practice piano, workout, yoga. Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)

[gnanaweb]

Story of happiness

 Young couple

      It was a pleasant morning with a gentle breeze which took me a long walk with my friend Raju, we both recollect our sweet memories.Raju, he not only my friend he is my well wisher, he guided my life in many circumstances… Now, we both are successful entrepreneurs because of his guidance. It was my college 2nd year semester examinations time, that time there was no internet facilities like today, we should go to library and search for books, i went to the library and looking for the book written by my professor. I found that book it was in last shelves, when i went to get that book i saw my friend preparing for the exam, so i thought don’t want to disturb him. Finally, went to that book and when i took the book, realised that someone holding at the other corner of the book. At first, I looked out the fingers they were in pearl white and with mehandi which adds more beautiful. Then, i looked her eyes, they were browny with a stroke of kajal. It's Divya my classmate, she is a innocent girl sitting in the second bench, never mingle with the boys.. She left the book and went out from the library. I took that book and register till the examination, so that i don’t want to miss and then i searched for her. I know the importance about book, it will help her to get more marks in exam, she is sitting sadly under the neem tree. I went to her and asked “you really need this book” . She replied “yaa, i need to prepare for exam”. I asked “Shall we share this book, so that we will mutually benefited, and we can easily complete the topics” . She think for a while and said okay.. Her acceptance brings a huge U turn in both of our lives… We become so close, she shares not only my book also my happiness and sad….. Semesters begins we concentrate in studies, we both made group studies for other subjects. I cleared the exams easily because of her. I spend the my semester holidays with her. It gives me a new feeling, we both went many places and spended the holidays.. A year runs like a Hussain bolt. Final year exams got over and result camed. We both scored good marks and got our degree. We planned to continue our PG in same College. This time i planned for many places to spend time with her….. At some circumstances, we both fell in love with each others, life moves on…. I discussed with Raju about our love…he gives me advice about our responsibilities, he told me to do discussion about our future, and to start savings which will help our future… As per his advices, we made discussions this made us to feel our responsibilities and our families situations, our backgrounds are not so wealthy. We planned to work part-time jobs,after our college hours and make a savings.. Raju gave me an idea of investing in mutual funds, this will help us in future. From his advice, i met a Financial Advisor. He helped me to make investment in Mutual Funds We Started investing in MF as SIP (Systematic Investment Plan). First we find out our needs for periods of within a year, short term and long term.. And we both invested as per our needs, this made our lives more lovely and feels matured… After a period we got jobs, and increased our savings. Then we got married with the permission of both the families.. Then Me and Raju planned for our passive income. So, that it could give us the extra income. We planned to open a mansion for working men's.Income comes from the mansion are invested in Mutual Funds. It gives tax benefits and good returns. Life moves on, now me and Raju become a Successful entrepreneurs. We created our life, we created our wealth….. Our life is in our hand.We Should create our life.. Life is like a Clay, first plan, design and then execute….

[fraener]

1/22/23

i dove into my solitude the last few days..well, solitude with hans here and there. my body is remembering the comfort of having just one person to entertain. I started a large piece on a jacket, big mess of radishes. i made another whistle and today in the studio made two big bowls, finished shaping/joining the pitcher, and started a tea pot. i practiced some more with the recycled clay. it just doesn’t have the elasticity i want so its really hard to pull up quickly. i dont have the muscle control right now to pull up slowly. ive been having a hard time sensory-isolating enough in the studio to listen to the clay so i havent been throwing as well as i want to be. i noticed myself becoming dysregulated as i walked from the bus toward the studio because i didnt want her to be in there. sure enough she was, and she was rude to me. she still hast said a word to me but is really managing well in the department of being cruel despite that. miranda doesnt talk to me anymore. id like to pretend there isnt active hostility happening, but its hard to ignore. im doing my best. everyone else in class is nice to me so thats pleasant. today i was thinking a bit about how a lot of people have a hard time with the way i approach friendship. i think im a pretty hard person to get close to because im not very focused on pleasing other people unless theyre in really close proximity to me or they punish me really severely if i dont. i think i am becoming more grounded and discerning again. i felt such a huge relief in this last death of relationship. i dont really like doing things that arent pleasing to me, a lot of the time new people want me to spend time with them in specific ways that just arent enjoyable to me. hans has noticed that im really averse to spending time with most new people and that i have a hard time making friends too. i dont really know what types of people i want to spend time with right now. mostly no one, at least today. or not no one- myself. i wanted to spend time with just myself. it was sunny this morning. i think i should allot a time each week to spend with a friend like i used to have in high school. maybe fridays will be my friend day again. it was nice to only have to really spend time with friends once a week for a few hours. its also harder for me to spend time with people if we arent participating mutually in an activity. i feel a lot better when i listen to my boundaries of stimulus. i really wish i had some cookies right now. not sure ill go to the studio tomorrow but we only have a couple more days to get most of our sculpting done so i dont know if i have a choice...part of me under the stress feels satisfied and exhausted. ill make the time tomorrow to tend to my anxious parts a little. but i want to say i do feel a lot better for having made a lot of art the past few days. i wish i didnt need permission to do things like that for myself. need to work on that too

[river-bottom-nightmare]

i love thinking about how wally’s definition of a hero changed and evolved over time.

every kid thinks their parents are heroes, at least at first. for a couple, that hero-worship lasts well into adulthood. for others, it fizzles away in mutual laughs when they sit behind a wheel for the first time and shush their parents’ backseat driving, or when they take successfully take control of the kitchen for a night. and for some, it slips away much earlier. because rudy talked loudly at dinner about the trust his boss was placing in him at work, smiling smugly at wally as though telling him to take notes. but wally noticed him yelling at his mother when coming home from work, his steps stumbling, his posture menacing over the smaller but no less angry form. and wally had to bite back protests when rudy sneered about aunt iris, spitting the fact that she was adopted in her face, nevermind that she seemed to care for the west family more than anyone else in it. (saying this aloud would only end with a backhand to the face or a belt to the back, though, so wally kept quiet.) and, anyway, when wally grew up and helped the green lanterns slam the doors of a prison cell shut on his fathers face, wearing a manhunter uniform and looking for all the world like the traitor to humanity he was, wally was grateful his hero worship had drizzled down the drain early.

aunt iris was brilliant, aunt iris was kind, aunt iris was beautiful, but aunt iris was human. she stuck bandaids over wally’s scraped knees with gentle fingers and danced in the kitchen of a little apartment while she made wally’s favourite version of mac and cheese. she was real and present and there, but she wasn’t really a hero. because the world seemed to have a new definition of “hero”. there was a man with a cape and a symbol of hope flying unattainably high over metropolis, there were arrows sticking out of steel walls in star city, there were hushed whispers of a leather-clad demon and a beam of brutal light fluttering around him in gotham. but central city? wally’s home? had someone who could run faster than the speed of sound with lightning crackling in his wake, had someone who exuded sheer power, had someone who laughed in two-second television appearances, had someone who made jokes with kids he was saving to calm them down, had someone who cared about the city so goddamn much. he was everything wally had ever seen in a hero, and when aunt iris and her new boyfriend barry (wally kind of liked the guy so far) took him to the flash museum, wally stood in the center of it. he made a slow turn, taking in everything he could see and hear and feel. “s” could mean hope and a bat could mean vengeance, but that red and yellow bolt of lightning meant power to wally, benevolent and uplifting power that made the lives of everyone it touched brighter. 

it took a christmas when wally was in 5th grade for him to realize that the flash was a hero of the people. central city loved him, and the flash loved them right back. but when wally was zapped with lighting, feeling unimaginable pain coursing through every single nerve in his body, barely even registering the chemicals that had gotten into his mouth, it was his uncle barry’s face looking down at him. it was uncle barry that never let go of his hand in the hospital, it was uncle barry that held him up every step of the way when his new powers (his new powers!) left him a stumbling, newborn foal. it was uncle barry that explained every single part of what happened to him, then at wally’s shy insistence, happily showed him around his lab. it was uncle barry that scoffed at his homework and wrote up some much more engaging problems for wally to do for fun. and it was uncle barry that presented him with his very own suit for christmas during that memorable 5th grade, and lifted him up easy as breathing when wally barreled into him for a hug. the flash was the hero of the people, but barry was wally’s hero.

of course, with his new name and new identity and new powers, he was exposed to a network of more super-people. superman was kind, if a bit bumbling. wonder woman’s biceps were bigger than wally’s entire head, but her laugh was as kind as aunt iris’ when wally told her that, and her grip was strong yet gentle when she scooped wally up and let him ride on her shoulders. uncle barry, no, the flash pouted theatrically when wally told him green lantern was funnier than him, but he cheered up when wally gave him a hug. batman was...well, first of all, real. wally honestly hadn’t believed he existed, and stepping cautiously into the batcave for the first time, wally couldn’t reconcile the near-invisible black mass moving silently around an outrageously high-tech cave with a human being. the reason for batman’s invitation became clear soon, though, because if the darkness was real, that meant the light had to be, too. robin was everything wally had ever imagined and more. he one-upped wally’s jokes with puns of his own and broke a man’s nose with a backflip and balanced on top of a telephone wire like he was walking on concrete and ordered curly fries exactly the way wally liked them. wally couldn’t do anything but marvel. 

over the years, he realized a couple things about his best friend. first, dick grayson, from the very beginning, had cast aside the notion of being “batman’s sidekick.” robin wasn’t a continuation of batman. robin was different, in everything from costume to demeanor to fighting style. dick wasn’t following batman’s legacy, he was creating his own. second, no matter how many times dick’s world burned down, he would always rebuild it. nightwing was a fitting name, a sort of poetic justice to it that wally himself never would have considered had dick not pointed it out. when robin was taken away from him, and the two of them lay huddled together, seething and devastated on clark kent’s couch, he built himself up again as nightwing. when jason todd was murdered, the robin suit cast aside as if caught up in a curse, dick wept at his mistakes, then did everything possible to correct them, gently but insistently shaping tim drake into a damn near perfect vigilante, an artist turning soft clay into an unbreakable vase. when dick’s memory was ripped away from him, with time he clawed his way back; when his father was killed, he built up batman again and honoured him the only way he knew how; when the feeling of touch and sensation and love that he used to adore was brutalized into the opposite by a spider, he broke apart in the presence of the titans, placing his trust in their capable hands, then with their help, stood taller than he ever had before. the amount of strength that took was awe-inspiring to wally. finally, third, dick never lost his light. the warmth that draws everyone to him, the kindness that healed their wounds, the mischievousness that broke their chains of despair and buoyed them upward in laughter. he never once lost it. he didn’t let many people see his breakdowns or his temper, but no matter the witness, he chose light over succumbing to the damning, over and over and over again.

a hero is someone you idolize, someone you aspire to be. wally had been trying to embody what dick stood for almost the entire time he knew him. from the way dick hugged him, the way the titans supported him unconditionally, the way the justice league respected him, the way central city loved the flash fiercely, and he loved them right back, wally liked to think he’d been successful.

that post about central city having a flash museum was the inspo for this. it did,,,,,get away from me a little at the end, and i got swept up in birdflash feels, but oh well. you get what i mean.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bonkybearjpeg @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge

[sehunniepotwrites]

sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre—  would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time! 

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions. 

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks. 

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly. 

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip. 

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later. 

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder. 

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue. 

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary. 

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see. 

He really was an artistic genius. 

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?” 

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type. 

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it. 

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on. 

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel. 

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you. 

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted. 

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch. 

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major. 

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more. 

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference. 

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered. 

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue. 

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person. 

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?” 

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried. 

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest. 

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave. 

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you. 

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall. 

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees. 

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him. 

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering? 

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings. 

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art. 

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her. 

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.” 

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.” 

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued. 

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away.  You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit. 

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown. 

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe. 

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils. 

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work. 

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.” 

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook. 

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register. 

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose. 

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.” 

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease. 

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down. 

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear. 

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak. 

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone. 

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water. 

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?” 

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.” 

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.” 

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely. 

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?” 

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair. 

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.” 

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was. 

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works? 

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm. 

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued. 

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers. 

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips. 

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him. 

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body. 

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears.  It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat. 

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t. 

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand. 

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway. 

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

 With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s. 

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side. 

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense. 

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that. 

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug. 

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.” 

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her. 

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming. 

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back. 

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile. 

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her  sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look. 

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings. 

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking. 

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him. 

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him. 

Putting two and two together, you figured it out. 

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.” 

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now. 

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall. 

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief. 

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain. 

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated. 

“I— I don’t know what to say.” 

Everything was extremely overwhelming. 

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.” 

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock. 

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you. 

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for. 

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm. 

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him. 

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears. 

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies. 

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too. 

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst. 

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again. 

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold. 

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same. 

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath. 

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all. 

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful. 

It was the start of something new. 

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu  i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk​ @hyunjins--laugh​ @littleflowercrown13​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @radiorenjun​ @ncteaxhoe​ @chancrispy​

[rebelwrites]

Just One Night

Jason Hayes x Reader

Requested By @paintlavillered || hey👋🏽 hope all is well! i would like to request number 8(we haven’t seen each other in years but reunite at a mutual friend’s wedding, things ended badly between us and we both know it’s better to avoid each other but of course we’re seated at the same table, opposite each other ) with jason hayes.

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Jason Hayes Masterlist

This Months Writing

You knew that he would be here, there was no doubt about that you didn’t know why you thought he wouldn’t be. This was Jason Hayes, the best friend of your sister's boyfriend and your ex fiancé.

For the ceremony you managed to avoid him for the day so far, if you bumped into him you would be civil at the end of the day this was your sister’s wedding but you knew she would end up playing matchmaker again.

“Well I never,” Clay beamed engulfing you in the tightest hug. “Thought you fell off the face of the earth,”

“I might as well have,” you laughed, hugging him back, “how have you been blondie?”

“Well apart from getting blown up I’m good,” he shrugged.

“Yeah I heard about that, sorry man,” you said softly, “glad to see you are in one piece though.”

“Yeah me too, now you gonna speak to him at all tonight?”

“After how we left things I’m gonna try and avoid it if I can,” you sighed, deep down you knew you would always love Jase and always would but you couldn’t cope with him shutting down after every deployment. “Well I best go find out what table I’m on,”

Part of you knew that Jase would be avoiding you for the exact same reason, the argument that you both had the day you left was bad and one that still hung over you. No one ever compared to Jason and you don’t think they ever would but you both knew that until he stopped shutting down after deployments it wouldn’t work between you.

Rolling your eyes as you looked at the seating table, of course your sister had placed you and Jason on the same table and opposite each other. She was always your biggest fan and always said that you were soulmates and soulmates always find their way back together.

The moment you sat down at the table you felt Jason’s gaze on you, looking up at him you flashed him a half smile. This was the first time you would have seen each other in a couple of months, since you met up for coffee to talk things over like adults but things were still awkward.

You didn’t know what to say to him, you knew that if you started you would end up telling him that you still loved him but you had both decided you were better off apart. But what you didn’t know was that since you had met up for coffee Jase had been seeing a therapist twice a week.

He still loved you and wanted to do anything and everything to get you back, you were meant to be his wife and he fucked things up, like he always did.

The hours had passed and neither of you had said a word to each other, it was like there was this unspoken rule that it was in place, well that was until you both had a few drinks in you.

You were currently on the dance floor, howling with laughter at Eric’s dancing, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. You didn’t need to know who it was, the feeling of your skin tingling told you just who it was, it was also an automatic reaction to lean back into him.

“I missed you,” he hummed in your ear before spinning you around in his arms, “you look amazing, but you always did no matter what you wear,”

“You don’t look too bad yourself Master Chief,” you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.

“Can we just pretend that for one night we are still together and the past is the past,” Jason whispered, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, “just one night, and then we can figure out where we go from here,”

“Just one night Hayes,” you whispered, getting lost in his eyes.

“Just one thing I want you to know, i've started seeing a therapist twice a week now,” Jason whispered, “after we met for coffee I started, because I realised just what I lost and I’m working on trying to get it back.”

“Jase,” you whispered, closing the gap between the two of you and your lips were inches apart. “Just shut up and kiss me, we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he hummed, pulling you closer to him before pressing his lips against yours, the moment your lips connected the room erupted in whistles and cheers from the team as you both got lost in the moment.

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @thelovelyleo23 @innerpaperexpertcloud @jomariekirby @i-love-scott-mccall @heathermann200 @pascal-reyes

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Season 5 Retrospective

Finished season 5 rewatch a few days ago. Season 5 was an eventful year for the show, on and off the screen. Off screen the show got cancelled on Fox, had a huge public outcry over the cancellation which included several celebrities, and then got picked up by NBC all in 48 hours. It was an exhilarating time as a B99 fan. Lot of stuff happened on screen as well, Jake and Rosa were in prison, team got them out, Jake and Amy got engaged, Rosa came out as bisexual to the precinct and her parents, Holt was in the running to be NYPD Commissioner, Amy became a Sergeant, and then Jake and Amy got married. Eventful season to say the least. Its also my favorite season of the show.

Honestly, this season is about as close to perfection I felt with a season. In other seasons there are at least an episode or two which I felt were meh or problematic. Season 5 is near flawless. I think Return to Skyfire is the weakest of the episodes but its still pretty fun. There are several episodes of season 5 that all rank in the top 10 B99 episodes in my opinion. The show also takes some risks with a couple of experimental episodes. There are episodes with a lot of heart, there are episodes that absolutely hilarious, there are ensemble episodes, there are two hander episode. some excellent new guest stars, and many great recurring stars.

I think the two prison episodes are pretty interesting. Tim Meadows as Caleb is absolutely amazing. He is so likable and low key hilarious that the fact that he's a cannibal who eats children always feels like a dark surprise. He and Andy Samberg make for a fun duo. The first of the two episodes is particularly fun. The show doesn't hesitate to show the danger of Jake being in the prison, especially the situation he finds himself by the end of the premiere. The show does connect one story to the next pretty seamlessly with the end of the Melanie Hawkins story connecting the the Seamus Murphy story which then connected to the Holt commissioner story. There are also a couple of really good experiments in experiments and story with The Box and Show Me Going. The Box is B99 at its most confident. Apart from Gina very briefly at the beginning and Boyle very briefly at the end, the entire episode really hinges on only three characters. Jake, Holt, and Sterling K. Brown's Dr. Davidson. Its a brilliant showcase for all three actors and all three characters. I believe Brown got a Guest Actor Emmy nomination for his performance and he's brilliant as the smarmy Dentist who really is in control for majority of the episode. Braugher and Samberg were old pros with their dynamic at this point and this is fantastic Jake and Holt episode because you completely get why Jake wants so badly to prove that he's right in front of Holt why being cast as the screw up and the idiot in the interrogation frustrates him so much because we know how much Holt's approval means to him. We also see why Terry call Jake his best detective back in season 1 because of how he riles up Davidson to get the confession at the end and getting the approval of Holt that he wanted. Its an incredibly satisfying episode and one of the show's best imo. Then there is also 'Show me Going' which is a surprisingly tense episode in which nothing tense actually happens on screen. The episode does a great job working with the fact that the only knowledge the squad has is that Rosa is on the scene of an active shooter situation. Basically we are in the same situation as the characters. Since all the characters are on edge, so are we. The show does a nice job balancing humor and recognize the danger of the situation.

The season has probably my favorite B99 episode and definitely by fav B99 Halloween episode with HalloVeen. Whereas the last three Halloween episodes were predictable or spoiled from the promos, this one actually threw a genuine surprise. I knew Jake and Amy would get engaged some point in the season, but I expected it to be on the much hyped 99th episode. Instead it can much earlier with HallowVeen and its a delight from start to finish. Its great to rewatch the episode because you pick up little signs that Jake was a bit more desperate to win than usual. First when he says that planning for the heist is what got him through prison time, and then when he says to Boyle that he has to win this time and this heist is way too important. On first watch, these details just slip by as regular overzealous Jake but they have additional poignancy on repeat. The actual proposal moment is handled beautifully in a very peraltiago way where it is both funny and romantic, with Charles' reaction being the cherry on top. There are quite a few strong related episodes that follow. The Venue being a fun return with the Vulture, Two Turkeys being a TWW reunion with Smits and Whitford returning as Amy and Jake's fathers. Its a better Thanksgiving episode than the previous season Smits appearance. Bachelor/ette party is another glorious episode with wild, fun shenanigans with Reginald VelJohnson appearing as himself. Jake & Amy is a very typical wedding episode where everything goes wrong but its perfect in all the right ways. Its heartwarming and sweet. You get more examples of how Jake and Amy are perfect for each other with Jake knowing the inside and outs of how Amy stresses out, and then ending on a wonderful B99 wedding with Fred Armisen returning to make a cameo appearance as Mlep(clay)nos. The episode was designed to work as a series finale since the potential for cancellation was there and while it leaves the season on a cliffhanger about Holt's job, its the sort of cliffhanger that we could have interpreted positively if the show hadn't gotten picked up by NBC.

The 99th and 100th episode of the show were also memorable. The creators chose to acknowledge the 99th episode in a way that most shows acknowledge the 100th episode, in true 99 style. Its a full ensemble episode barring the absence of Chelsea who would return on the 100th episode. Its a typical road trip episode which kickstarts the Holt commissioner storyline. It also is the episode where Rosa comes out as Bi to Charles. This was obviously a big story for Stephanie since she is bi as well and she championed this story. It gets explored in further depth next episode, but Stephanie Beatriz gets to do some of her best work in these two episodes, showing her vulnerability without losing her toughness. Game Night honestly feels very true to not just coming out as Bi to your parents but true to any child who has to confess something that would be against their conservatives parents' values. I think Game Night is a fantastically bittersweet episode and Danny Trejo is brilliantly cast as Rosa's father. The episode positions him as the parent whose reaction Rosa is most worried about and I love how they show that while its difficult for him to grasp the concept bisexuality, he comes around to accepting it and accepting Rosa. But the episode is still bittersweet with Rosa's mom not having come to terms with it. Its also an excellent Rosa and Jake episode where we see Jake endure incredibly uncomfortable situations to help Rosa. Its a characteristic that helps make Jake so endearing that he's willing to cross all limits for his friends.

There are lots of fun and hilarious episodes in between. Craig Robinson shows up as Doug Judy in The Negotiations which is another fun ep. Kevin and Jake get a great episode dealing with their dynamic in Safe House. Rosa and Amy have some fun in White Whale as the Sleuth Sisters. Pimento returns in Gray Star Mutual for some more crazy shenanigans. Gray Star Mutual also has my favorite cold open of all time with Jake leading a suspect lineup in a rendition of 'I got it that way', totally forgetting the crime that he's got the lineup for. Its pitch perfect and I've lost count of how many times I've seen that cold open on youtube. It basically has its own fanbase and introduced so many people to B99. We also get to see Naseem Pedrad as Jake's sister Katie and the end up having a cute dynamic. David Fumero shows up in The Puzzle Master. There are also pretty funny episodes dealing with some serious subject matter such Jake dealing with his own doubts in his ability to do his job after Prison in Kicks and Holt dealing with gambling addiction in Bad Beat. All handled very sensitively.

All in all, this was a fantastic season for the show. I had a blast rewatching it and it ended the Fox era in spectacular note. A 9.5/10. Now on to season 6.

'

[bxllafanficc]

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part one)

part two part three part four part five. Find the rest on; Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

"Remind me once again why we're going to Japan? It's clear you'd never take us there just because you miss Victor and I know by experience that it's not because of his apprentice."

First class flight like usual. The view out the airplane window of the sparkling city at nighttime below them would stun anybody but at this point, Yuri has traveled so many times it's only become regular sights and the lights of the streets are only plain colored spots in a dark void to him these days. One thing he will never feel comfortable with though is staying in the same seat for hours on end until the airplane arrives at its destination. His legs are itching from wanting to move around. He'll just have to jog it off back on the ground like every other trip in the past.

"You'll be spending some time with Yuuri Katsuki and Victor the following weeks to gain your fighting spirit back. You need to get back in touch with your emotions, remember?" Yakov slightly turned his posture towards the Russian skater beside him, folding his newspaper in half and putting it in his lap.

He only nodded with a slight hum. He could see Yakov's reasoning, some parts of it at least. He HAD been lacking in emotional performance ever since the new year began and it was time to get back into the mindset of winning yet another Grand Prix gold medal like last year. No, not last year. Last year's competition was cancelled after a minor pandemic spread through Russia and the nearby regions. In fear of the virus spreading, all competitions cancelled and larger crowded areas were forbidden to take place. Therefore Yuri's only been able to practice by himself and keeping himself fit for a possible competition next year. But a year of doing nothing can really change your spirit and afraid to admitting it to his coach, he's been missing several opportunities to hit the rink and stayed home watching anime or scrolled through social media instead.

But one thing he doesn't get is how Victor and Yuuri are gonna make him get his mindset in the right track again. He already won his first gold medal at his senior debut and he doubt that the Japanese skater will be in any better condition than Yuri's currently in right now. Pig-man must've been in a much worse state considering his boo Victor had to stay in Russia during the pandemic, unable to keep an eye on Yuuri's routines.

"Besides, there's a little surprise waiting for you where you'll be staying with the two of them. It better work out fine or else I'm out of ideas."

That caught his attention to say the least.

"Well if it's supposed to save me from the deep end then why be so secretive and hushy with it? Spill the news, Yakov."

The old man only grunted and picked up his newspaper once again and hid his face behind it. Well now he really wanted to know what it was. Clearly he would have to make some effort. Soon the article about a Russian charity event taking place this weekend got replaced with a clenched fist going straight through the back of the paper. Yuri expected some kind of reaction but Yakov only sighed and leaned back in his seat without even a flinch.

"It's no surprise if I tell you. I promised Victor to keep it a secret."

"Tell me."

"No."

Yuri groaned and folded his arms with a sour glare. The display in the ceiling told the traveler's that it was 10 minutes until landing so he gave up his attempts and let his eyes rest for a while. At least he would find out tomorrow, he assumed. It was 2am and he would be staying at a hotel close to the airport since it was too late to make rest of the trip in one day.

Yuri was out with the speed of a lightning bolt the second the plane doors opened. He sped past everyone before him and he didn't stop when he finally got outside. His feet carried him to run circles around the plane meanwhile he was waiting for Yakov to get out the normal way. It's a silly habit of his and he knows he looks stupid doing it but his coach has given him strict orders to not run away at one random direction like used to do at first. It would take like half an hour for him to be found once he took off, but only if he got lost.

"Yuri! Get over here!"

Well, there's his cue to get ready and head to the hotel. Finally he's able to get some sleep before he's forced to wake up early at dawn to head to Hot Springs and meet the two most annoying people in Japan.

...

He didn't even have time to eat breakfast. He overslept and got rushed to the cab with an angry Yakov behind him, newspaper folded tightly in his fist. The trip through the beautiful Japan would've been pleasant if Yuri hadn't dozed off every 10 seconds. He didn't get much sleep after all. He spent at least three hours thinking about the special surprise and raiding the free mini bar before he finally got to rest. At 8am he was woken up with banging on the door and now, at 10am, he was standing at the entrance of Hot Springs waiting for Yuuri's mom to announce their arrival. She hurried away somewhere with her usual bubbly happy self that Yuri had no idea how a person could be so... not moody all day long.

The place was as crowded with customers as last time and the two Russians were told to step inside to the more private parts of the building where the family lived along with Victor at the moment.

"Victor! How come my brand new lotion is used? You smelled a suspicious amount of peaches and wild berries at breakfast and there's no point denying it!" A fairly soft and modulated voice was heard from somewhere to the left where the private shower stalls were located. A couple seconds later a giggly Victor and Yuuri came through the direction of the living room and greeted Yuri with happy cheers. The slender white haired Russian caught Yakov in a bear hug, much to the old man's surprise. Yuuri extended his hand towards Yuri but Yuri didn't give any effort in taking it.

"Food. I'm starving."

Yuuri dropped his hand with a light blush but Victor pouted and let go of his former coach. Strong and clingy arms were suddenly wrapped around his chest and he couldn't breathe.

"So unpolite... Yuriooo we've missed you! Haven't you missed us?"

Yuri thrashed like a fish caught in a net and tried to hit the arms of the bastard trapping him. Yuuri joined in, only to get a kick in the hip. His stomach growled angrily and the endless void in his body didn't lighten up the experience a bit.

"Let go you old man! You too piglet!"

"I hoped you'd say it out loud but I know that deep down you've been missing us, Yuriii." Victor went to whisper in his ear with pouty lips but was swatted away by a backhand in his face. That finally caused him to let go and Yuri jumped out of reach for the two males.

"Hm... Or not." The expression he got from Victor was sad and pouty and the man earned a hand on his shoulder, put there by Yuuri. Yuri could only sigh and shake his head.

"Victor! Did you steal my shampoo too?! I will- Oh? What now?" Yuri turned around abruptly by the unfamiliar yet familiar voice behind him. His eyes widened.

The girl was standing to the left of the hall, seemingly coming from the shower. A curious hand rested against the wall beside her and her face was covered in a grey clay face mask, a toothbrush lazily hanging from the corner of her lips. Her (h/c) eyes glistened with mild shock along with her mouth hanging slightly open.

"You are early... Victor, you told me they would arrive at 1pm1!" She pointed a strict finger at the tall man who scratched the back of his head with a hesitant laugh. Her eyes narrowed and she grabbed her toothbrush. Because even if she was standing unprepared in front of two strangers, she would at least not forget to brush her teeth in the process, as you do.

Yuri might've considered it normal if it wasn't for that she was almost naked. Two towels were the only fabric hiding her, one wrapped around her dripping figure and the other tied up in her hair.

"Yeah, about that! I kind of mixed up the time of their arrival and your meeting with the press, that's, by the way now when I think of it, not actually cancelled but later today. Silly of me to forget, right?"

She eyed him as though her bullshit meter was ticking in the red zone and let out a huff. Yuri had to advert his gaze when it suddenly felt intruding to eye her the way he did. He also turned away because a light tint of pink was creeping up his cheeks.

"Right. Thanks for the early update. I appreciate it, really. I'll be with you again in 30 minutes. Don't wait up for me." And with that, she was gone. The silence of the men maintained for a few moments until Yuuri coughed with an awkward smile, his red cheeks still visible even after the girl had disappeared. 'It's a little weird to blush at your almost naked sister' he thought.

"So food, right? Mom is preparing pork cutlet bowls for you, Yurio, since she remembered how much you liked them last time-" He didn't have to say it twice. Yuri was off to the dining area before the man even finished saying 'pork cutlet bowl'.

[omniscientwreck]

Day 6: Time & Transformation // Temptation

Day 6 of @shadowgastweek (I’m very late I know I’m sorry!) 

Please enjoy this little glimpse into the future I hope the wizards will get one day, please let me know what you think! 

“Caleb?”

“Ja?” The wizard looks over, silver hairs peeking through the copper and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose looking over from the loveseat where his papers and books were sprawled across the dark upholstery.

A familiar, grin spreads freely across his features.

“Can I tempt you away from your studies for a moment?”

Eyebrows raise and a mischievous glint, “Well you know, this is some important work I’m doing. I’m not sure if you can compete.”

Gliding over, Essek leans down over the human’s form, sporting his own devilish grin. The wizard’s eyes raked over him with a hunger. That could wait. They have time. “Oh I assure you I can be quite compelling.” And he leans in to kiss Caleb. Kissing him is so comfortable, safe, it fills him with a warmth he’d never previously known. It’s been years and it still excites him when their lips connect. Caleb’s short stubble scrapes a bit before they part, Essek righting himself and offering Caleb a hand.

“I have to say Thelyss, you make a good case. What is it?”

“I just wanted to talk with you, about tomorrow.”

As Caleb stands he smiles reassuringly, “Mein Engel, you are still nervous?” He grabs for Essek’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Caleb’s hands are strong and his fingers are wider than Essek’s. It’s easy to feel reassured in his grasp, familiar callouses rough as Caleb’s thumb rubs circles into his hand. “The spell has been performed many times without issue, we’ve got it figured out. I’m certainly excited to see what happens.”

Essek nods, “Of course I am excited too, but well. The other times it was you and now it’s me and transmutation certainly isn’t my specialty.”

A gentle laugh falls from Caleb’s lips and he squeezes Essek’s hand, “You know you really don’t give yourself enough credit. You quite nearly pioneered an entire school of magic. You’ve been it’s foremost scholar and teacher for some time. I understand nerves but I promise you I trust your ability. You’ll have the rest of the Nein there, Veth has had it done to her and the rest were there with us the first time. I will be okay. Besides, won’t you be happy for me to be rid of some of these age markers?”

He winks at Essek, teasing, already knowing the answer. “You grow more beautiful every day Caleb, I have never once regretted the aging of your body. You know very well it’s not about looks, it’s about time.” Caleb stops their walking and wraps his arms around him, pulling Essek in and kissing him gently, chastely. “Regardless of how old you look or what happens tomorrow I intend to stay by your side until death. But we only have one life so we may as well lengthen our time.”

Caleb kisses the tip of his nose and they continue outside of their home. The dark of the night engulfs them and the glow of the stars is vibrant as always, Essek looks at his husband and tries to quell the nerves, the anticipation, when a voice fills his mind, “Hey Essek it’s Jester! I couldn’t wait to see you and Caleb until tomorrow, it’s been so long and I’ve missed you so much. I’m-” the spell cuts off and he waits a few moments to see if she plans to recast.

When he hears nothing he responds, out loud so Caleb can hear, “Hello Jester. It is good to hear from you. We’re home and I believe you know our address. You’re welcome at any time.”

Caleb’s crows feet crinkle around his still piercing blue eyes, “Well, if Jester’s here then so is Fjord and I can’t imagine the others are far behind. We should prepare the guest beds.”

They float inside to welcome their friends and briefly Essek’s anxiety is pushed to the back of his mind.

-----

Long ago he’d finally stopped referring to the Nein as ‘Caleb’s friends’ and accepted his role in their lives and allowed them to step into their roles in his properly. Agents of change, bestowers of affection, it’s been about a year since they last saw everyone together.

Ten years ago when they defeated Lucien the group took a break. Jester and Fjord split off to Nicodranas with Veth, Caduceus went home, Yasha and Beau had posted up mainly in Zadash, and Essek and Caleb spent a great deal of time travelling and exploring. Whenever one of the Nein called they all answered, whether it was something as simple as providing fire power when Beau had an investigation or something as momentous as tying up loose ends from their past, they remained steadfast to one another.

Jester, Fjord, and Veth and her family are the first to arrive and Essek opens a well aged wine. Luc is a teenager at this point and he’s becoming a bit of a menace at the amusement of his uncles. Caleb had previously taught him message and he’s been getting a lot of mileage out of it. Jester and Fjord have stories from having come back from a few months at sea, helping with some errands for merchant ships for old times’ sake.

Their home feels full and alive, and the next moring when Beau and Yasha arrive, and then Caduceus it feels like the family is whole again.

They begin digging clay out of the back yard just as they had the first time and as everyone assumes their positions, laughing and joking, filling the backyard with cacophonous uproar, Essek is hit with nostalgia.

He misses travelling with them, having them by his side and standing at theirs throughout some of the worst confrontations in history. He misses the jokes they lob his way with ease, Fjord and Veth hurling insults back and forth, all of it. It seems like so much time has passed since they had last upturned his yard to help a friend into a new form, but in his comparatively long life it’s hardly any time at all.

They assemble the clay, sprinkling in diamond dust and Essek is basically useless with nerves, they’ve created the trough, incorporated the diamond dust. All that’s left is him. They pause to eat, Caduceus’ cooking a welcome break from the day’s preparations.

Dinner is delicious, and loud, full of stories Luc and Yeza have heard dozens of times but still delightful all the same. As they finish eating and prepare to cast the rest clean up as Essek floats outside to check their arrangement one last time. He feels a punch land on the back of his shoulder, where he was once marked by the Nonagon and Beau surveys alongside him, the day’s work. “Hey man, you okay?”

He should be used to her check-ins but she still puts him on edge despite their ‘beef’ as she put it having been ‘squashed’ years ago. “I am alright. This is a big deal and well, I just want to perform well.”

“You will.” She rubs his shoulders a bit and continues, “You know, I didn’t think you deserved him. Even after we figured our shit out and you like became cool. I didn’t think you were good enough for him. Thanks for proving me wrong, you’re good people and I know you’ll take care of him. You’re nervous because you care and that shows me a lot about you. You’ve always been that way but. Well, I see the way you look at him, it’s just real fucking nice.”

All he can do in response is nod and swallow hard, he doesn’t have words to explain what the reassurance means. He kneels down to ensure the dimensions are right for the fiftieth time and the others come out breaking the silence.

“Ah- before we begin can I steal him quickly?” Caleb asks his friends as if they have somewhere else to be or any reason to deny the couple a few words. He takes Essek a good distance away so they can talk without being overheard. “Schatz, are you ready?”

“It feels like I should be asking you that. You know the form you would like to assume?”

Caleb nods, “Just as we discussed, we’ll put us on a more even playing field.”

Essek tucks a stray strand of copper hair behind a rounded ear and looks at his husband’s face one last time, “I can’t say I won’t miss this view Widogast, you are a most striking man.”

Caleb just laughs and kisses him gently, “Well you have much to look forward to.”

They stay like that for a moment, hands clasped, pulling their bodies close, eye to eye. Determination and a stoic resilience fall over Essek and he nods to Caleb, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

All told the casting is uneventful. The Nein are knelt in a circle around Caleb with Essek at the head, kissing him one last time before beginning the incantation. As the wind picks up and arcane lines and symbols light up, Essek’s concentration is stone cold. The clay begins slowly building over Caleb, covering his face entirely and as the view of his partner is taken from him he seems to connect on a deeper level to Caleb’s psyche. They think together of the chosen form, and he can feel a reassuring wave come off of Caleb as he continues reciting the incantation. The runes light and as he continues casting and putting everything he has into ensuring their mutual happiness. His voice gradually rises and arcane power swirls around them, hair freely whipping around the faces of his friends, watching with confidence, Yasha smiling knowingly at him across the vessel. He can feel the heat radiating as his hands pass over Caleb and at the hour the clay bursts, the ensuing wave of arcane energy pushes him back a foot or so, even in his kneeling position. The light from the spell is snuffed instantly and the night is dark again. Before them is Caleb anew.

He brushes clay away from his face with slender fingers, gently sitting up as Jester helps him. Essek floats over, kneeling beside him where he sits.

Caleb turns to look at him, he has the same copper hair and bright blue eyes, but the skin is smooth and free of stubble, his ears narrow to a point, and his features are just a little finer.

They did it.

Caleb looks at Essek for a moment, not dissimilar from the look they’d shared as they met at the altar the day they were wed, “So this is what you look like in the dark.”

He cups Essek’s face with a smooth hand and laughs lightly as the Nein begin chattering around them, Essek doesn’t hear what they say as Caleb brings his new lips to Essek’s and they’re locked in their second first kiss. Pulling back slightly, Essek’s laughter rings out and they press their foreheads together. He feels someone wrap their arms around the two of them and eventually the rest of the Nein join. In the middle of the large group hug two wizards hold each other and time stretches before Essek as the full gravity of the what they’ve done makes his heart soar. Time will catch up eventually, it always does, but for now they have plenty.

[poirott]

This is the 2nd part of the "Riddle of the Spinx" interview with Death on the Nile cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos for British Cinematographer November 2020 issue (part 1 transcribed here). The full interview has now been released on the British Cinematographer website. I've included some of the text below!

In Part 2 Zambarloukos talks about shooting with the cast on location in Egypt and doing a particularly complex single shot of them on set, how they did the opening b&w sequence of young Poirot as a soldier, and built sets of Abu Simbel and the pyramids, the use of realtime footage projected on LED screens to make the studio sets look more realistic, what part of the Murder on the Orient Express set they recycled for Nile, etc.

Q: This was shot like Murder on the Orient Express at Longcross Studios with plates filmed on location in Egypt. Was it ever a possibility to shoot entirely on location?

Haris Zambarloukos: The issue is that 1934 Egypt barely exists today. For example, in the 1960s they moved the Abu Simbel temple 300 metres away so that the Aswan Dam wouldn't flood it. So, we built the entire four-storey high Abu Simbel at Longcross, complete with banks of water. The same with Giza and the Sphinx. In the 1930s the Nile went up to the feet of the Sphinx. Now all you see is the concrete expanse of Cairo.

Secondly, it's difficult to shoot complex shoots on a river while floating, taking all the cast down there and scheduling them, on top of ensuring everyone's safety on such a high-profile project.

Our whole design and research went into creating a set. We wanted to build a life-size boat inside and out; not to break it down into small sets but to shoot it as if we were on a boat. That’s a huge undertaking. Jim Clay built an amazing set to scale for the Karnak. It was so big we needed to build a temporary sound stage around it. We also wanted to use some real daylight when we got great sunlight in Longcross and use a little bit of water to basically film the boats carrying guests to the Karnak.

We recycled the railway from Orient and built the boat on that so we could wheel it in from outdoors to indoors. We built a very elaborate lighting rig that you could pull back and see the entire boat in one shot. You could step onto the boat and walk through all the rooms which were all lit for an analogue film f-stop. It was complicated and took most of our planning but I personally don't think you can tell the difference when we cut - even from a shot filmed outside in real sunlight juxtaposed with one in apparent sunlight on our sound stage. It's seamless because we took such great care and a detailed approach to our rig and construction.

In Orient you created some stylish direct overheads of the train carriage. You've told us of the Steadicam dance sequence in Nile. Were there other stylistic flourishes?

Inside the sound stage we went twice round the Karnak with the entire cast all choreographed for this one great reveal of a murder. It was really hard work to do. I understand why it was cut in the edit although they have kept a lot of other single long takes and there are lots of places where you see the whole cast in a single shot.

However difficult you might think setting up a long single is in terms of lighting and operating, it is equally, if not more difficult, to block a scene with multiple actors, keep the audience engaged and choreograph it in a way that is exciting and at the same time reveals things gradually. There's a lot of pressure on a lot of people in shots like that. Everyone's got to be on top of their game. Because we're all so interdependent, it's a domino effect in that the further you go in the take, the bigger the responsibility is for not getting it wrong whether that's the operator, focus puller, the actor saying the final line, the gaffer lighting a corner at just the right time. We always get excited about those shots but also very nervous.

You augmented the studio work with plates photographed on location in Egypt. Tell us about that.

We filmed on the Nile from a boat with a 14 8K Red camera array. We had a 360-degree bubble on top of the boat and two three-camera arrays pointing forwards and backwards as we travelled up and down. We specifically chose areas where modernity wasn’t present (or where it was, we removed it in post) and we also shot plates from the point of view of passengers onboard the Karnak.

VFX supervisor George Murphy edited the footage and stitched the plates together into an essentially very, very advanced virtual reality rig in which I could pan my camera. We did that before principal photography, so we never had to guess a month or so later what to put there. That’s a big help. Most shoots do their plate photography afterwards. It meant I could pretty much place the camera on any deck of the Karnak for any scene and know what the background would be.

As with Orient, did you play back footage realtime on LED screens outside the boat set?

I'd love to have done it live but on Orient we were only dealing with one wagon's windows at a time. It was still the biggest LED set-up ever done to that point, but the Karnak set is 20 time bigger than that. There aren't enough LED screens available – plus it would have been prohibitively expensive.

Instead, I went for a much larger version of a technique I'd used on Mamma Mia which was to hang back projection screens all around the boat – 200m in circumference, 15m high. We used Arri SkyPanels at a distance to create a sky or a part of the background. It could also be converted into a blue screen when we needed to. It meant that if I had a shot looking above the horizon line into the sky then it could be done in camera.

How confident were you of retaining colour and contrast from set to post?

I took stills on the recce and we used those to the create colours with this back projection for our skies. I take prints (not digital stills) so there is no misinterpretation. A still is a piece of paper that you can see. Once something is emailed across and seen by someone watching on another screen the information can get lost.

At the same time there were a lot more checks and balances put in place. We had a projector at Longcross and I watched dailies with (dailies colourist) Sam Spurgeon every lunchtime. With Kodak and Digital Orchard we have a very quick process to convert analogue filmmaking into digital by the next morning. Film is processed at night, they scan at 4am and by mid-morning those digital images are transferred to our dailies suite at Longcross. At lunch we’d watch it digitally projected, having been processed, scanned and graded at 2K.

I check that first and give notes to Sam and those get transferred onto our dailies which is what Ken, the editorial team, VFX and studio team sees. That's a major check. It's me with someone in a room, rather than me talking over the phone which is a big difference. I have a very good relationship with Goldcrest and (DI colourist) Rob Pizzey who also sees things along the way. I supervise the grade at the end. So, there's no need for anyone to interpret anything. It’s a collaboration in which we all look at the same images.

Did you shoot black and white for the opening scene or convert?

We shot colour for a couple of reasons. Although Kodak could manufacture BW 65, there is no lab in the world to processes it. Plus, there’s a certain skill to grading BW using colour negative and the added benefits are that that you can place a grey tone to a colour. For example, you could take red and decide it will look a very dark grey or a light grey, so you get very detailed tones. Ultimately, I get much more control in the DI this way. They were very monochromatic battlefield sets and costumes so it was quite limited in this case. The Germans wore grey and the Belgians wore dark blue and it’s a dark sooty gas-filled battlefield but you could manipulate the blue in the sky a little bit more and certainly manipulate the intensity of people’s eyes - especially if they had blue eyes (which Branagh does).

How did you handle sound sync?

To do sound sync work on Orient we used sound cameras that are twice as heavy as high-speed cameras, so I wanted to develop soundproof housing (blimp) for our camera on Nile. I took the problem to Stuart Heath at BGI Supplies at Longcross. They've made all sorts of props for us before, from Cinderella’s carriage to the furniture on Nile. I told him that I needed it really quickly. All my other attempts had failed. Stuart suggested using a material that they soundproof the interior of helicopters with. He brought a draper in who basically measured the camera as if making a dinner suit for it and quickly made a couple of versions for us. It was very effective and really opened up the Steadicam possibility for us. All from just wandering onto a workshop on the lot and asking a friend if he had any ideas about how to achieve something. In the old days that’s what everyone did – the answer was somewhere on the lot.

Finally, after six films and 14 years working with Ken Branagh, could you tell us what makes your relationship tick?

It is a fantastic friendship. To begin with you must be able to maintain a professional friendship with any cast and crew which is all about doing your very best and understanding where you have common aesthetics and shared thoughts about humanity. Ask what kind of world you want this to be, because that will come through in your filmmaking.

As you say, I've spent years working in close proximity to Ken and we have a mutual affection and admiration for each other otherwise we wouldn't be doing it for so long. He is relentless in pursuit of perfection and in his advancement of storytelling and is inspiring to work with. It means you have to be as relentless in your area of craft.

I think we both like making the same kinds of films. I'm a Greek Cypriot who grew up with Greek myth and tragedy. Ken's love of Shakespeare is legendary. You can easily see the lineage between Aeschylus (the ancient Greek creator of tragedy) that goes all the way to Shakespeare. Perhaps that appreciation for the human condition in its best and worst forms is the tie that binds.

Photo credit: Rob Youngson

Source: britishcinematographer.co.uk - February 4 2021