#I’m declaring it and I won’t be hearing any arguments

[littlecrow4]

I’m now declaring “The Square Root of Two” by The Two Man Gentlemen Band as a Fiddlestan theme song

Meeting adjourned

[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Eater

SUMMARY: Moving on proves its challenges. Not everyone has the ability to accept that what happened, happened - and what was, was. So as you try to lead a new life, single and trying to heal, the journey proves to be far from easy. It’s worse than difficult and more painful than what you could’ve imagined. The only comforting source is that what will be, will be. And there’s no changing that.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of breakups, exes, angst, arguments, swearing, smut, slices of life here and there, alcohol (Jisung is drunk but there isn’t much detail on it), confrontation.

WC: 6K+

TAGLIST: @emikisses @linos-kitten @chansbabygirlsstuff @lixiespick @frogieeheart @/fuckthinking @nimx9 @/shishou1687 @inniescandy-01 @konstanceee @/rose13255 @queenmea604

Venom Biter (Part 1) | MASTERLIST

A/N: the long-awaited part 2 to Venom Biter! This was originally meant to be longer but I decided that I wanted to flesh out the plot a little bit more so things will get worse and or better who knows…

There’s never a grey area about what people do after a terrible breakup. It’s always black and white. Whether someone cuts their hair, dyes it, alters their aesthetic, or goes on holiday to escape the reality. 

The gym can make for the perfect best friend to subtly take revenge on someone a person once had.

But your new best friend was Tinder. A platform of opportunities to explore and select at your perusal. Providing you with gorgeous men who were looking to fuck and nothing more than that. If Tinder wasn’t the buzz for you that night, it would be going out with friends - friends that didn’t include ones that you made through Minho. 

These ones’ you would only see about once every three months then band together again as if nothing has changed in the space between. It’s not awkward when you’re around them and so far, it has taken your mind off the past two months. Since then, your connection with Minho has been one of which where-

“God fuck I’m cumming!”

Minho knows he is too when his eyes screwed shut, laying back as he lets you use his cock, “shit, so am I,” he breathes out, watching you roll your hips in a frantic craze to get yourself over the edge. You miss this. 

The way that you squeeze around him is the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Minho swears towards the ceiling, back arching as his dick glides in deeper. Within a couple of seconds, his vision flashes just as white as your insides that he fills. 

The top half of your body flops forward onto his chest, spent from the past fifteen minutes that you’ve been riding him non-stop. Now it’s almost possible to hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat that violently bashes from within. Not wanting to stay in that position for any longer, you peel yourself back, hopping off his body. 

“I need you out by seven,” you declare, picking up his sweatpants and t-shirt from the floor and then throwing them right at him. 

Minho grumbles but doesn’t flinch, “seven? Fucking hell.”

“Well, I have to go to work so you’re not staying.” 

“I figured that,” he fusses before sitting up. “At least let me use your gym here.” 

You pause for a second to look at him, wondering where he gets his audacity from sometimes, “fine.” 

“Thank you,” he replies then starts donning his clothes as you make your way to the bathroom for a hot shower. 

This is what it’s been like for a while now - a pernicious seesaw effect of meeting up with Minho, sleeping with him (usually in the mornings), and going about your day as if he wasn’t in your guts twenty minutes ago. 

It’s always a good feeling in the moment but after, there’s a lingering icky weight that you’re tirelessly towing along with you wherever you go. You’re not sure if Minho feels the same because even though you’ve talked to him a few times, there’s no talk of each other's feelings anymore. It’s not that neither of you are ready for that looming and tender conversation. It’s just as if there’s no point. 

By the time you were out of the shower, Minho was still on the edge of your bed, fully clothed and ready to leave. 

“I’m not making you breakfast,” you say to him, wrapping the towel around your body a little tighter. 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to,” he responds. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until the end of the day, because I need to get ready for work.”

He groans, getting fed up, “surely you can get ready and listen at the same time.” 

You rustle through your drawers for a pair of underwear and bra, “to other people maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you want to use the gym, go now,” you instruct sternly, hoping that he’ll just disappear. 

When he detects that he can’t get through to you right now, he gives up. It’s too early to argue, so places his hand on the door handle, opening it for himself to leave and head down to the first floor, leaving you to prepare for another day’s work in peace.

After a quick breakfast, getting dressed and decent, you grab your bags and depart. On your way out, you spot Minho using the weights while you dart past the foyer, briefly thinking about how the time to cut him off is fast approaching. 

You can’t keep doing this. There’s no way to move on if you’re both still latched onto each other's ankles like how kids are with their parents. That need for one another is still present. 

“Who even am I when I’m not with you?” Minho asked you two weeks into sleeping with him again after breaking up. His comment sums up the reason of ‘why you decide to keep running back to each other’.

It’s not a hard statement to understand. You’ve been with Minho for a long time, you’re both still young and haven’t dated anyone else except between yourselves. It’s like being a dog that was never socialised as a puppy, unable to interact with others because it’s not sure how. 

Suppose it’s the fear and anxiety that comes with separating from your favourite person. 

The world and society have become scarier than it previously was and life is not as secure when you’re not with the person who can shield you from those things. There’s no comfort, only pure vulnerability, and what better way to feel protected than to return to a lover even when there’s nothing but a feeble spark that’s left over from what was once a blazing forest fire. 

Seungmin challenges that particular view of yours at dinner with Felix as well after a long day at work. He wanted to see where you were coming from but also because he’s there to force feed you the icy, sobering truth when you don’t want to hear it. 

“If there’s no romance, what’s the point of going back to each other?” he asks. 

“They were dating for years Seungmin, you don’t just get over someone that quickly,” Felix responds instead like he was the one being offended.

Dissimilar to Seungmin, Lix will let you down gently and is afraid to hurt you with the sharp use of words that can be sometimes. 

“Supposedly,” you mutter to yourself knowing full well how fast it was for Minho to just go ahead and fuck someone else after you had broken up. 

“Do you still love him?” Seungmin questions swiftly. 

“No,” you respond promptly. 

“If there was an opportunity to get back together with him, would you go for it?” 

“No,” you answer again. “I couldn’t.” 

Felix blinks, not expecting that answer, “well…then…”

“Then stop seeing him if you know what’s good for you,” Seungmin continues. “Those icky feelings that you get after sleeping with him - not good. That’s the regret you’re experiencing and it’ll never feel any better.”

There’s no crack or fault in his advice. Had you not dished out the truth about the details of your messy breakup before and after, you would’ve still been glued to the same spot. It’s important to have someone humble you, and there’s no better person to do that than Seungmin. 

“Just keep thinking about it, okay? On another note, Hyunjin’s coming back from France next week so we’re having a dinner and drinks,” Seungmin mentions. 

Your mind briefly departs from the subject of your ex, “is he? Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Felix replies, also surprised. “You’re coming right? We’re going to have a few drinks too, and catch up.”

“What time?” You ask.

“Around six,” Seungmin answers. “Does Minho know?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you shrug, the thought of him returning to your mind once again. “I don’t know if he’d have any interest in going since they’re not friends anymore.” 

Felix recalls that factor, “that’s right. But, if the rest of us are going to be there, we should invite him too, no? Unless it’s too difficult for y-”

“It won’t be difficult,” you reply, punctuating the rest of Felix’s sentence a little too quickly. “He and I can get along for about…ten minutes before things go sour. Plus, I don’t mind not going if he wants to. I can always catch up with Hyunjin another day.” 

“You’re our friend too, remember? Don’t let your asshole of an ex-boyfriend stop you from seeing us. You broke up with him, not us,” Seungmin sends you a powerful reminder. “I’ll have a chat with him so that you don’t have to.”

He has a full understanding that if you and Minho were to attempt another civil conversation, it’ll go haywire and lead to more regret that you don’t need to be feeling right now. It just goes to prove that he’s beyond correct to even assume that fact.

The minute you both try to convey how or what it is that you’re both feeling, tensions boil over. For some reason that tension is only resolved by being bent over the nearest surface and fucking it out together. 

It’s not healthy. 

You go to remind Minho of what he did to you which he hates hearing, not because he denies it but because he does truly feel guilty. His only saving grace to that argument was that you had both technically broken up, meaning there were no ties to one another afterwards. Still, he missed the point of the fact that he hurt you as a result of those actions. It was too fresh to have done that to you.

Even when he recognised that factor, it was hard for him to accept that he actually caused you some form of irreversible emotional harm

However, Seungmin was right in the fact that you broke up with Minho and not your friend which enabled you to leave that dinner feeling a bit better and with a clearer judgement about going forward with a decision to cut all ties with Minho. It wasn’t something to look forward to. 

But what was, is the dinner in the upcoming week. It’s the prime opportunity to see everyone again for the first time in over a month. 

Despite your collection of text messages and calls from the likes of Chan, Jisung, Changbin and others, it was hard to associate yourselves with them in fear that all they’ll do is unintentionally remind you of Minho. It was the same way he felt when he was clearing out his house - not wanting to be around anyone or anything that would refresh his memory of you. 

Now, all you want to do is move on. 

Work had a helping hand in that process. Having been so busy with things piling up, your mind was free from Minho during the day. You were able to focus on tasks instead of wallowing and thinking about whether or not to give him a second chance

If it weren’t for Seungmin texting you the details of the upcoming dinner, work-life would’ve swallowed you up whole and made you forget. 

From Minnie: 6 pm we’re meeting up, Also, just a heads up, Minho said he’s coming. Take it with a grain of salt though bc he might change his mind. 

To Minnie: Thank you :)

You inhale a breath of fresh air. Going to this dinner was necessary whether it was going to be difficult or not. The presence of Minho wasn’t going to stop you from seeing your friends, and with that, you decide to get ready and head straight to the venue. 

The restaurant has a separate open area for functions and tables people can book out. The dim golden lighting brings a warm and cosy vibe to the venue, coupled with a beautiful earthy aroma from reed diffusers distributed around the place and the smell of promised good food. It’s a relatively fancy setting, but not to a degree where you would be denied entry if you didn’t meet a dress code. 

As you walk further down, you can already see Chan and Jisung chatting up a storm in the corner while they wait for the others. It’s a relief that not many people have made it so far in order to keep as low of a profile as possible and to not draw attention to yourself. However, little by little, they will definitely notice you’re there. 

Jisung is the first to spot you, his jaw becomes unhinged as he drags himself out of the booth, speeds over with his face lit up, and throws his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. He nearly squeezes and shifts all of your organs out of place. 

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he exclaims loudly in your ear. 

Chan laughs in the distance at his best friend's behaviour, “let her breathe Jisung.” 

He releases your body for a rush of oxygen to surge back to your brain, “sorry, I just can’t help the fact that I haven’t seen you in a month!” 

“You Facetimed me Jisung,” reminding him of that one and only time you accepted him reaching out to you to see if you were okay. 

“That’s completely different, anyway sit down,” he offers. “I’ll get you a drink.” 

Without wanting to hear any protest from you, Jisung darts off to the bar nearby, ordering a beverage or two. Chan then waves out, ushering you to come and sit before you walk towards the booth. 

“If I had gone another week without seeing you, I’d probably start to forget what you look like,” Chan jokes, patting his hand down on the space of cushion beside him for you to sit. 

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you respond. 

The second you’re seated, you can already feel Chan’s mind trying to intrude yours. There’s no point in lying to him when he’s akin to one of those Occlumens from Harry Potter, an all knowing person who can hear every one of your thoughts at will. Regardless of the fact that he’s not, it’s his parental nature which exudes that. 

“Going okay?” He asks you. 

You take a deep breath in and sigh out, “I could be worse.”

“You’re still here though,” he responds wisely. “And so are we.” 

Chan never wanted to ask why you never told them or came to them when you first broke up with Minho. They all had to find out through one another then needed to text or ring you to confirm that it was actually real. However, they all knew that you must’ve had your reasons. Naturally, it would’ve been tough to accept let alone leaning on your close friends for support. 

“Thank you,” you respond. 

“Here we go,” Jisung calls out, carefully returning with two different types of cocktails. “They’re both strong as hell so don’t try to choose.” 

“Not that you’d have it any other way right?” you reply, helping him with the glasses as he sits down beside you. 

He pats your head as he goes to sit down and slings his arm around your shoulder, “you know me too well. Anyway, Changbin and Hyunjin are here. He just texted me before.” 

Chan sulks, “what? No! he was supposed to wait until everyone else was here.” 

“To be fair, they were meant to be here twenty minutes ago so Changbin is actually on time,” Jisung responds. “Anyway, how are you missy?” 

“Better now that I’m with you guys,” you answer, giving him a bit of a friendly nudge before leaning into him.

Jisung grins, genuinely relieved on the inside to hear that you are. Not that you have been able to notice, but they were all worried for you at one point. The lack of information regarding your whereabouts or even the state of your well-being was concerning. It was almost like you had dropped off the face of the earth at one point, right up until you finally made the decision to start accepting people trying to contact you. 

Unfortunately for your friends, they had to learn about what you were up to through Minho, and even today, you’re not sure if what he said to them was the truth. Nonetheless, they all knew at the end of the day, if they were ever unsure or suspicious of what he was feeding to them, they were mature enough to come to you to double check. If they were able to get through to you. 

“Good. Now come back and hang out with me because these guys are boring.” 

Chan goes to lift a finger and point across at Jisung to object his statement before Changbin rounds the corner with Hyunjin trailing at his side. 

The last you saw him was some five years ago, just before he went away to an arts’ school in France to study. Now he returns taller with much more cut and distinct features and a head of light brown hair that’s visibly eclipsed his natural jet-black colour. Despite that, he also seems softer or shy when he gives everyone at the table a half smile. 

“Who’d you say was boring?” Changbin prods into the conversation. 

Jisung points up with his beverage in hand, “you and Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows knit together with worry, “is he drunk already?” 

A bright smile fashions on Changbin’s face when he notices you, “Y//N! Now it’s two welcome home parties!” 

Hyunjin turns to look down at you in surprise, “have you been away as well?”

His question serves as a reminder that he has been relatively out of the loop since he’s been gone – not that you expected him to be fully aware of everything since he probably had better things to do. Hyunjin was still active in the group chat, but none of you prefer to communicate that way when hanging out is the better option. Whilst he’s missed out on a lot of stuff that’s happened, he hasn’t been so oblivious to other things. 

“Not exactly,” you respond awkwardly. “But welcome back by the way.”

He smiles softly, “thank you.”

The get-together officially kicked off when Jeongin, Seungmin, and Felix arrived just before the second round of drinks was ordered. Everyone was happy to have Hyunjin back. Even for you, it was nice to see him again after so long – it was nice to see everyone in general. The setting was reminiscent of old times when everyone banded together. Whether it was at karaoke, dinner, a bar, someone’s house, or at some event, it’s always a good feeling when you’re around them. 

It leads you to feel slightly upset that you haven’t seen them in so long. You’ve missed hearing their laughs, their jokes, and the safety that you feel too. But for a very painfully obvious reason, none of it seems to be the same without Minho. 

“Didn’t show up did he?” Seungmin, who had been chatting up a storm with someone at the bar, walks over and takes a seat opposite you at the cornered booth. Just about all of them were alternating from the table to the bar, and a space they’d found to stand up to talk, or in Jisung’s case, dance by himself. 

“Mm,” you mumble. “Which I’m sure is a good thing.” 

He shrugs carelessly but with a small grin, “for your benefit. Not that I’m an expert in relationship problems but I can speak from personal experience.” 

“That’s true,” you respond, remembering that he has in fact had his heart broken a few times by the same person. 

Luckily for him, he’s ceased the chase and gave an account the other day at dinner of how freeing it was to be his own individual. It’s something you can only hope to achieve at this point – to be liberated from that sticky dependency you have on Minho. 

It’s not love that you feel for him anymore, you’re sure of it. But it’s similar to a violent craving. His skin, voice – oh his voice. Everything about his body has you itching under the surface to have him by your side even though things end in a fiery argument, which is usually how it goes. 

It wasn’t love anymore. It was dependency. A type of separation anxiety that fills you up with this icy cold feeling that won’t go away until you specifically have Minho near you. Still, deep down, you knew you didn’t love him anymore. 

“Is Jisung okay?” Hyunjin ticks his head towards his friends’ direction. 

Judging by the fact that Chan was holding a barely conscious Jisung up was a clear indicator that he definitely wasn’t okay. Never has he been able to handle his alcohol well and it was evident by the lack of control over his own body. 

Seungmin looks over concernedly then looks down at his phone to check the time, “shit, I have to take him home too.” 

He abandons you briefly to help out Chan. Both of them collectively agree that Jisung needs to go home or at the very least be removed from the bar to sober up. They take him to an empty table nearby and ask the bartender for some water. Meanwhile, Hyunjin turns a blind eye to the chaos and talks to you instead.

“How have you been Y/N?” He asks. 

“Yeah, good. You? How was France?”

By the look on his face, it was as if your question brought back a whole heap of good memories to the forefront of his mind, “I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.” 

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. “So have you graduated already?” 

“Three months from now I will be,” he answers. “Why? You wanna come watch me walk across the stage over there?” 

You consider his offer, “what if I said ‘yes’ to that?” 

“Then I’d be over the moon,” Hyunjin emphasises then offers a brilliant suggestion that springs into his mind. “In turn, maybe I can show you around France and all the places I went to.”

“Is that a deal then?” 

“Sounds like a solid deal to me,” he responds and whether he was joking or not, either way, it seemed a pleasant idea. 

During the last hour of the dinner, you spent having an in-depth conversation with Hyunjin. From what he got up to in France, what he wants to do in the future, then covered what you’ve been doing as well

The topic of your ex-boyfriend was difficult to navigate, but you managed it well by diverting to another subject. The last thing you wanted to talk about was Minho for fear that the more you think about him, the more you’d want him. 

Then again, you’re reminded once more of the fact that Hyunjin and Minho aren’t friends. He may not have any interest in him whatsoever. But it’s not like they left each other on horrendous terms. Not like how you and Minho did. Plus, it’s hard to see this fresh shade of Hyunjin in front of you, hating anyone he doesn’t like or doesn’t know. 

The Hyunjin from five years ago would’ve held a grudge, but now you can see by his shift in personality, that he’s let it go. 

When it came down to having to leave, everyone seemed to have their own plans. Seungmin would have the misfortune of taking care of Jisung. Felix, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin decided to go bar hopping while they were still stable on their feet and even encouraged you to come with them. It took a lot of convincing to tell them ‘no’ after you were set on heading home to the comfort of your own space.  

Seungmin assured Chan that he was fine to handle Jisung, then thought it would be a polite gesture to accompany your side when you decided to walk home, regardless if it was only a minute's commute from the restaurant. 

“How are you holding up?” Chan addresses the elephant in the room. 

His question could be seen a mile away. It made you wonder if that was the reason he chose to walk you home since his place is in the opposite direction. Although he wasn’t confronting you, that’s exactly what it felt like. 

“Somewhat okay, I suppose,” you answer. 

“No, how are you really? We see Minho all the time. In fact, he won’t leave us alone. But we haven’t seen you,” he responds. “You can still hang out with us you know?” 

“I know that,” you almost whine, especially after offering your ear to Jisung just for him to repeat the same words for over two hours. “I’ve been busy.” 

“I guess being busy is a positive.”

“It’s when there’s nothing to do or I don’t feel good and I don’t have anyone around,” you respond and both come to a halt when you reach the entrance to your apartment building. “That’s the hardest.”

“That’s when you call us,” Chan says strictly. “I know you know this too, but all of us would drop whatever it is that we’re doing to come and help you. Not just Minho, even though I had some reservations about seeing him after what he did.” 

The last parts of his words surprised you. Chan actually thought about cutting Minho off too when he found out what happened…

“So he did tell you everything.”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Including everything that you’ve both been up to now. Like how you still see each other now and then – and not for the reasons I had hoped. So why do you keep seeing him when you want to move on?”

Your eyes narrow at him, “how do you even know that I want to move on?” 

“The fact that you still sleep with him but won’t pursue any sort of communication to get back with him romantically, says a lot Y/N. And I know that because he’s told me,” Chan answers bitterly, but not in a nasty way. “Your body might miss him, but I know your mind doesn’t.”

He’s bitten through the truth which you can’t seem to, his elderly brother-type personality forces you to see reason. You’d be offended if Minho tried to initiate a conversation about wanting to get back together, knowing that he’s not in any position to be making requests after what he did. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You ask tiredly. 

“I want what’s best for you,” he says. “Yes, Minho too in some way, but I told him he needed to figure out what he did on his own because I can’t help him with that. That’s his punishment.” 

You supress a laugh, “thank you.” 

Your short talk with Chan made you realise how empty your cup had been since you last saw him – since you last saw all of your friends under one roof. It was rewarding and it felt like home to be near them. However, his words weren’t there for you to just defer from. You had to listen to him. He was right in saying that your body misses Minho but your mind doesn’t because the next time he came around, you swore to yourself that it was going to be the last time you saw him.  

But it needed a conversation, one that you weren’t even sure if you were ready to have, too scared to rip that band aid off. 

As you don your bra back on and shimmy on your underwear that Minho almost tore off, you think of all the possible ways to approach this situation, bearing in mind that it does have the potential to blow up. 

“W-We need to talk,” you stammer, wondering if that’s a good way to start. It’s a start, that’s all that matters. 

Minho stares at you from the other side of your bed, halfway through putting on his t-shirt, “okay, what about?” 

Without any warning, you blurted out what needed to - what must be said, “we should stop seeing each other.”  

Heavy silence drapes over the room, except for the cogs working overtime in Minho’s brain, trying to decode your words could almost be heard. You can most definitely see it on his deadpan face. It illuminates the seriousness of the situation compared to what it was five minutes ago.

“Can you give me some more detail about that?” He requests. 

“I just don’t think it’s healthy that we continue to sleep with each other when we’re not going to get back together,” you inform him. 

“You don’t want to get back together?” Minho poses the long awaited question that hurts to even conjure an answer. 

“Be honest, we’d be together right now if you knew that I was serious about it,” you say truthfully. “I’ll never not love you, but I can’t love you in the way that I used to.” 

The sheer surprise of the conversation made Minho realise that he’s been consuming too much of a good thing. That he actually wasn’t prepared to talk to you about this. It’s been creeping around the back of his mind since you both started seeing each other casually but ignored it so as to spend as much time with you as he could even though you weren’t with him anymore. 

“Right.”

“Look, just…don’t go cold on me, because I do want to talk to you about these things,” you plead with him. 

“Such as?”

“Such as our friends,” you start off. “All of us hang out a lot, but I didn’t want our…breakup to stop either one of us from seeing them. They’re your friends and mine too. I’d hate for us to be driven away from them because we can’t coexist anymore.” 

“Fair enough.” 

You can sense that he’s already starting to shut down. An obvious coping mechanism that’s triggered by something he wasn’t prepared to hear. But while the final shreds of his rationality are still with you in the room, you make haste, and dish out the important points he needs to know.

“We might not ever be friends again even though that’s not what I’m hoping for-“

Minho stands up from the edge of your bed, cutting the rest of your sentence off in the process, “if you’re serious about everything that you just said, then I don’t want to see you text or call me first asking me to come over. This isn’t a one-sided deal that only applies to me, you have to stick to it as well.” 

“This isn’t even a deal Minho. I am telling you not to.” 

“What? Telling me ‘not to’ because you can’t control yourself around me? Fine. I don’t know if you realise this, but the majority of the texts between the both of us, are mainly sent from you - you asking for me, telling me how lonely you are, or how much you miss my body. So don’t start handing out instructions when you’re not going to adhere to them as well.”

There’s a viper-like sting to his words that keeps piercing your resolve. A truthful sting that seeps poison into your blood, making you feel sick and cold. He’s torn you off your high horse for a moment, bringing you back down to earth to realise that it’s not just him who needs to see reason as well.

He had a very strong argument.

Minho sighs and tails more information to his tangent, “look I will do whatever it is that you want me to do. But, if this is what you want, then you can’t deny that it will only work one way.” 

There’s an efflorescence of achiness in your chest. A familiar one that you felt in the early days after breaking up with Minho. It was the same one you would feel whenever you’d have to lock the door to the spare bedroom in his house whenever he bought someone else over. 

Heartbreak. 

It lingers when he finally leaves with the promise of never reaching out to you again, at least for sex because there was no way of avoiding him in the future. That fact was impossible to refute. But this is what breakups consist of. Not one hairline shy off of being messy. It could, though, be much worse. That’s as much you had to be grateful for when you have to start from square one all over again.

Changing things up was necessary. You had already moved out from Minho’s, which there was no choice behind, but that meant new scenery. Different places to peruse in your own time that you hadn’t yet ever since you had moved out

It opened up new opportunities to visit some local things, especially on your way back home from work as you decide to call into a small cafe.  

Soft bossa nova plays calmly in the background as you stand and deliberate on something sweet to take home with you for after dinner. If it weren’t for the many niche options to select from, you would’ve almost missed the voice talking from beside you. 

“I heard the matcha bread is nice here.”

Your surprise gets the better of you, almost forgetting how to speak for a split second when you see a familiar tall figure you met once more from the other week. 

“Hyunjin?”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Wanna sit down together?”

You end up ordering yourself a warm drink and a sweet pastry to go while Hyunjin found a small table right in the crook of the cafe. His sudden appearance was rather pleasant, allowing you to divert from your own thoughts for a bit. Plus, it’s always nice to sit and chat with a friend. 

“I thought you might’ve been here to meet up with one of the others,” you say to him. 

Hyunjin nods, putting his coffee down, “I just spent the last couple of hours helping Changbin buy clothes just down the road at one of the shopping centres, so that’s where I came from.”

You smile, “well he trusts you more than the others in that department.”

“As he should,” Hyunjin grins softly. “How are you?” 

“I’m well, I just finished work and was heading home,” you respond.

“I’m not keeping you from going am I?” He asks politely.

“No, not at all,” You quickly exclaim. “The longer I stay, the more of an excuse I have not to do the mountain of things I need to for work.” 

Hyunjin chuckles, “well, as long as it doesn’t get you into trouble with your colleagues.”

“I should be fine,” you hope. 

“You know, when I think about it, you and I never really spoke that much back then,” he points out. “I only just realised that from last week when I saw you again.” 

His comment makes you think back too

Hyunjin was definitely part of your friend group, but not one who you would hang out with individually or with another person. He was just there, almost like he was known to you by association. Aside from the fact that he’s well-mannered and kind, the only aspect of his personality that seemed to have changed is how boisterous he used to be.

Although, that’s to be expected when people mature and cross the bridge from adolescence to adulthood. 

“True enough,” you reply and start snickering when you remember something funny. “But I have good memories of you though. Like when you threw that bottle at Jisung.”

Hyunjin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, “I remember that. I could’ve killed him with that too.”

“Or when Chan had to pull you up from the train tracks because you fell off the platform and got stuck,” you add on.

“Most of those memories seem to have some type of mortal peril attached to it,” Hyunjin discovers. 

“You were young,” you remind him tenderly. “They make for the best memories anyway.” 

He agrees, staring into a space on the table as he reminisces, “true. So much has changed since I got back. I feel like I’ve missed out on growing up with you all even though we were just teenagers back then and adults now.” 

“Maybe, but we’re still young though and some have more growing up to do than others,” you hint very cryptically at one person who automatically springs to mind. “So don’t feel sad that you’ve missed out when there’s still a lot for us out there.” 

Hyunjin sits a bit more comfortably knowing that. As you both continue to talk, he realises how much you’ve changed yet somehow remained the same. You grew into your features, enhancing what was already there to a finer degree. Your looks were Hyunjin’s first impression of you when you first met as devious young teenagers. 

That was before he discovered that you are as kind and cool as you come across. But you were just distant friends back then. Now, Hyunjin detected a space for that to potentially change. He wanted to get to know the friend he hung out with here and there.

Even though time threatened to cut the starting opportunity short, it was still a start nonetheless, and Hyunjin was confident that there would be other times to arrive as well. So as the baristas begin cleaning up behind the counter and around the cafe, both you and Hyunjin took it as a sign that it was probably time to head off. You both take your belongings, thank the staff on your way out and head into the night. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says to you. “We should get coffee again sometime.” 

You nod, “I’d love that. I still have your number.” 

“So do I,” he replies. “What way are you heading?” 

“I’m just literally around the corner, not even a minute away,” you answer. 

“Okay, I’ll look forward to your text then,” he says. 

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

[fiannalover]

bweirdOCtober Day 9 - Relationships

Post-College Medeia - Thread

“You are lost.”

“Mayhaps. But the journey is what matters most, no?”

“It is. Though less so when your destination has a strict time window.”

Once upon a time, there was a witch. Although, that wasn’t the profession she’d use to describe herself. Her long black hair, color that combined with her conversation partner’s attire, was slightly messed up by the wind passing by.

Hearing his answer, she frowned and returned to alternating between staring at her map and her cellphone that held the bare minimum of data, in hopes they made any sense whatsoever. In fact, all her travels carried a time limit, which, thematically, was very appropriate.

“I don’t suppose you could give me some hint regarding where I should go? It is your cult, after all.” She argued.

“I could. But this is your lead and your hunt, Medeia. And in my defense, it was more of a cult to dethrone me than to assist me.” The man accompanying her answered, floating a short answer behind her while wearing a tailor-made suit adorned by punctual, but valuable, rings, watch and jewels. “Of course, you have other tools that you can use at any moment.”

The suggestion was received and immediately thrown away. At the same moment, the spark of realization came to her face, showing she found the desired thread. “No problems, I located myself. Onwards!”

“Right behind you.”

Once upon a time, there was a girl, the kind you'd find anywhere. And her travel companion, Death.

A little village in the middle of nowhere.

Medeia had stopped by many of them on her odyssey,

“Your people really like this kind of place, don’t they?” She asked, while typing away in her notebook, the soundtrack of a tween musical playing softly as she worked.

“They are death cults. You do not think most of them would try to hide away in the midst of the biggest metropolis, do you?” He answered, filing his nails.

“Wouldn’t be impossible. Both of us have already lived in one of the biggest cities of the country. We know very well it’s super easy to hide stuff there.” She ceased typing for a second, pondering over some possibilities. “There likely are a bunch of rich guys plotting stuff right under our noses on some capital. I should go to one after exhausting my current clues.“

“Who knows. I but request you to remember, all business I realized in the world of the living was completely legal and according to the law. Including precious jewels that, officially, I found by pure luck. You cannot blame my own golden touch.“

“Don’t worry, Pluto, I know. You’re my favorite capitalist.“ She said, using the name few mortals were aware belonged to him. Closing her notebook and getting up from the chair, she declared. “Alright, let’s see what we’ll find here.“

-----

“You know, you probably would find the right path more easily if you used magic.“ He suggested, making use of his incorporeality to randomly go through the ruins’ walls.

Writing down all she saw on a notepad, she replied. “I remain only a potion maker and journalist. I clearly have no sanity and am addicted to adrenaline, but I won’t use free magic to make this worse.”

She kept patting around the walls and furniture of the place, eventually making an unnoticed mirror fall to the floor and shatter in a thousand pieces. Welp, just another relic of incalculable historical value.

One of the shards made a small cut on her leg, though, creating a thin thread of blood that would go all the way to her heel. Annoying, but no big problem. Still, she made a mental note to exchange her shoes for bigger boots.

“You know, I don’t think this partnership of ours is very equal.” She said, repeating an argument they made every other week, almost a little inside joke.

“Because it isn’t. I can destroy these magical artifacts and cults at any moment. But I grant you the opportunity to do so yourself, to further your own goals.”

“And for that not quite bare minimum, I’m eternally ungrateful.” After that jest, she finally found a place that looked slightly weird. Taking a small vial from her pockets, she spilled its liquid on the floor, making a stairway show itself. Great. At last, progress.

-----

A salvo of shotguns ringed through the air above the strategically located waist high half-wall Medea was protecting herself with.

“You REALLY can’t help me right now?” She shouted, her cover vibrating from the impact of the guns.

“In your age’s terms, nope. Work your magic, alchemist.” He replied, noticeable only to her.

She needed no magic. All that mattered was resources, ingenuity…

And many wiles!

At a spot, the noise surrounding her faded ever so slightly. Realizing her assailants were reloading, she quickly grabbed a potion bottle and threw it towards them as strongly as possible. With the cracking sound of impact and their surprised noises, she knew she hit her target.

Alright. Let's face the music!

-----

"Food poisoning. All considered, you suffer from that very rarely, for someone who is always traveling." Death pointed out.

"Hahaha. Very… urgh." Medeia remained on her knees, holding back nausea while facing the lunch she just finished throwing on the side of the road. "Very funny, Plu-"

The girl couldn't finish the sentence, instead returning to throwing out her own stomach. Truly, a lesson to never trust divine-looking beef.

Throughout the entire experience, her travel companion used one of his hands to hold her long black hair, keeping it from dirtying itself, while the other hand calmly pet her head or back, soft, calm words comforting her all the while.

It was a parental care she long didn't feel.

-----

In an almost desert, with no visible reference points, Medeia evaluated her maps and information. She could keep riding down the road with her bike, no problems, but having some idea of how long it would be before she got anywhere would be handy.

She somewhat asked herself how it would be like to be made of the same material as clouds or have the same wings birds use to fly. And in doing so, she noticed she was really, really bored.

"Why do you follow me?" She asked.

"We have known each other for a very long time. Old friends, practically." He answered.

"You can say that to a lot of people, not just me. Even within the occult means, I'm sure I'm not the only one."

"You are not. But you're also dedicated to solving terrible incidents being built with me in mind, be it in homage or against me."

"I am. But you're Death. You don't need my help to fix these."

"No, I do not. However, your motives are unique enough for me to consider them worthy of my support." He explained, putting an end to their little back-and-forth with a more in-depth explanation. "Mages are creatures of extremes. Many, as you know within your own blood, aim to deny me, destroying the natural order of our world. Others still seek to wreak great destruction, thus ignoring the equilibrium of life. You, not being a mage, are a very sensible person, Medeia. And your reasons for seeking passageways to my kingdom are approved."

And so, he vanished, leaving her with her own thoughts for a while. But she knew he was close by, as always. He was many things, but not a hunter unbeknownst to his prey.

Looking at her map again, she noticed she should go east. As she prepared to put it all back inside her bag, she found a piece of obsidian, which would easily finance her next hotel.

"Thank you, Pluto." Closing her baggage, she kept on going.

-----

Entering the new set of ruins, defeating the local cult with a sleep potion, a wool scarf and a high jump kick from really sturdy boots and finding the relevant magical artifact was, all considered, rather easy, with the maze she traversed to get there having unraveled in front of her experienced gaze.

Incense and liquids she brought now adorned an altar surrounding a curious mirror that, soonly, would cease having a connection to a world beyond.

"Alright, I think I neutralized the portal enough. How long can I make use of it?" She asked.

"Roughly ten minutes. Unfortunately, I cannot allow it to remain open any longer than that." Death informed her.

"Less than I got last time. Welp, it's enough. The cops are getting in eighteen or so to pick them up anyway." She reasoned. Picking up a brush and a hand mirror from her pockets, she looked at her own appearance for a bit, before deciding she was satisfied. "Let's do this."

The potion maker put down a feather and a golden coin in front of her, then lightly cut her own hand, letting blood fall on the proper place. Then, holding on to the mirror, she let her magic activate its restrained power.

Her reflection quickly vanished as the portal activated. In its place, were plains in eternal spring and, within them, a girl with the purest tranquility in her face.

It couldn't be traversed. It was but a camera, microphone and audio system, traversing the greatest of distances between two people.

Noticing the portal, the girl turned around and greeted the person standing on the other side with the greatest possible smile on her face.

From the deathly catacombs where she found herself at, Medeia theatrically bowed and proclaimed. "Fair maiden! Many dangers and journeys I faced to see thy lovely face once again!" With the overkill court provoking the desired laughter, she stood up straight and affirmed. "You're as beautiful as ever, Ariadne."

Carrying that special smile, from within her peaceful eternal rest, she answered. "And you're as courageous and smart as the last time we saw one another, my Medeia."

At the end of day, there is only one that truly makes life worth living.

And so, each and every day, she would search for her love's thread.

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Sixteen - (Original Song) Trouty Mouth!

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Against what you considered your teams better judgement, the New Directions were convinced to write original songs for the upcoming competition, that could seal your hopes and dreams of -temporarily- getting out of the small town you called home. If only drama didnt follow the club like a plague.

Word Count: 5,352

WARNINGS: Maths, argument, yearning, that’s mostly it

-----

"Guys, I've got some bad news."

"Oh, just what I want to hear on a morning," you sassed from your seat beside Artie, the boy helping you finish your calculus homework last minute.

"No one does, Y/N," Mr Schue drawled, "You know how we decided on 'Sing' by My Chemical Romance for Regionals? Well, I hold in my hand a cease and desist letter from the band. We can't do it."

Puckerman scoffed from the back of the choir room, "It was the perfect anthem."

At the Spanish teacher's statement, you pulled your attention where you were scribbling a -probably wrong- equation onto the paper in your lap, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"That really doesn't sound like something the band would do."

"How much do you wanna bet Coach Sylvester has something to do with this?" Mercedes asked, shaking her head.

"One step ahead of you."

"So, what are we gonna do now?" she continued.

Before Mr Schue could begin to offer up some words of confidence, whilst he secretly worried inside, Rachel voiced her opinion.

"I think we should write original songs for Regionals."

"Oh, nope. That's still a bad idea." You shook your head, turning back to your homework.

You hate to admit it because you loved your sister dearly, but your hand was one of the firsts that rose into the air after Santana's declaration.

"All those in favour of voting Rachel down a second time?"

However, what came next shocked you to your very core.

"No, I think Rachel is right."

With horrified eyes, you turned to look over your shoulder at the blonde sitting behind you.

"Who are you, and what the hell have you done with Quinn Fabray?"

The girl rolled her eyes at you.

"This team works best when we push ourselves and do something a little different."

At Quinn's defence for your sister, everyone with their hands raised slowly started to lower them, listening to her reasonings intently.

"That's true, but if the all the other teams are doing amazing songs, we're not gonna be so good."

"You're right. We're not gonna be as good. We're gonna be better," Quinn countered Mercedes, "We won't be using other people's words or music. It'll be our own. Our own heart, soul, not just our voices. We have a really talented songwriter in our midst. Rachel, I was thinking maybe you and I could write a song together."

Okay, now something was definitely up.

Not only was Quinn Fabray volunteering to spend time with your sister, working on a project, when you knew full well that she could barely stand the shorter diva Berry.

But she also called her a "talented songwriter", when if she was forced to hear any of the drafts you had been, you knew she would not be saying that. Nor would she be jumping -creating- the opportunity to work with her.

"I'm with Quinn and Rachel," Finn spoke, looking between the two teenagers he had dated, making you roll your eyes at him, "I mean, if these two can agree on something, it's probably an idea worth considering."

"Well, I still think it's a bad one."

"Wait a minute. So suddenly, you two are writing music for Regionals?" Santana asked, almost affronted, "No way. I think that everyone should get a chance to write a song."

Sam was quick to agree with his girlfriend.

"Santana's right. We can do this."

"What do you think, Mr Schue?" Mercedes asked the man standing in the centre of the room, cease and desist letter still within his grasp.

The curly-haired man shrugged, giving a tight-lipped but pleased smile.

"I think we're doing original songs for Regionals."

After the short applause, both young Berrys turned to gander at the blonde behind them.

Rachel with a thankful smile.

And yourself, with a snappy comment.

"Seriously, who are you?"

---

Early the next day, before your first class, you meandered the halls, looking for one of your friends to chat with for the short time before the bell rang.

And that's exactly what you found.

Only, they didn't look how you expected.

"Oh, what the hell happened to you two?" you asked the two ex-cheerleaders, whose clothes were caked in soil, mouths also coated in the stuff, looking as if they had been eating it.

"Sue put dirt in our lockers," Santana explained as Brittany spat the stuff from her mouth, trying to pluck it away with her just-as-covered fingers. Her statement made your eyes drag behind them to where their lockers sat, filled with dirt.

"That's insane. Why'd she do it?"

"She's still pissed at us for not going to the Cheerios Nationals and the fact that she's not a cheer coach anymore."

"She is the prettiest person I have ever met, and I live with my sister." Gesturing them towards you, you said, "Okay, let's uh... let's get you two a change of clothes. Unless you wanna look like you just dug yourselves out of shallow graves."

Hours later, you had escorted the -now changed- girls into the choir room, dispersing throughout. A lot of club members with open notepads on their laps and pens in hand, just waiting for the director to enter the room so that they could start their lesson.

With a tall stack of yellow books in his arms, the man said, "All right, guys, let's hear it for our first songwriting seminar."

You still thought it was a bad idea, but you had decided to go with it nonetheless. It's better for you to try and fail than to not try at all.

"While Quinn and Rachel are hard at work, we're gonna try to write an anthem of our own," Mr Schue told, as he handed out the thick books, "Now, these are rhyming dictionaries for all of you."

"Mr Schue, Tina, and I have been uh already working on a song that I wrote," Santana offered.

"Really? That's amazing. Well, can we hear it?"

The Latina gave a small nod before moving to stand in the centre of the room, Tina making her way to the heys of the piano.

"This is a song that I wrote for Am. It's called 'Trouty Mouth'."

The blonde boy's sweet smile fell at that.

"Wait. What's it called?"

Only for Mike to lean over and whisper, "'Trouty Mouth'."

You didn't know a song could make you this happy.

Every one of Santana's lyrics was better than the last.

That was until Sam had to go and ruin it for you.

"Okay, can we stop?" he asked, outraged, as he jumped to his feet, "Stop with the mouth jokes."

"No, no, no!" you whined, aghast, once the music was abruptly cut off.

"Sit down. I'm not finished."

"Yes, you are." The boy then turned to the seated teacher, "Mr Schue, we're not doing a song at Regionals called 'Trouty Mouth'."

The man stuttered, rising from his own seat as he gestured to the blonde, "You know what? I have to agree with Sam on this one."

"Oh, I disagree." You shook your head with a bright smile tugging at your lips. "'Trouty Mouth' has got to be an iconic anthem. Really a song for generations."

"Y/N," Mr Schuester scolded you before turning back to Santana, "But such a good first effort. I just don't think it's got the epic feel we need for Regionals."

"I do." Your hand shot into the air, playfully being shoved by Sam as he manoeuvred back to his seat.

It seems Santana wasn't the only eager participant in the room, as Puckerman soon voiced his own involvement with a raise of his hand.

"Mr Schue, I wrote a song too. I wrote it for Lauren." The girl looked away awkwardly at that, spurring the boy into manoeuvering further into her line of sight. "I know that when I sang 'Fat Bottomed Girls', it might have hurt your feelings a little bit, but... I think this makes up for it." The delinquent continued down to replace a disgruntled Santana. It's got a bit of a rockabilly feel, so it could give us an edge this weekend."

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," you admitted as your teacher nodded the boy on.

"All right. Show us what you've got."

You couldn't help but laugh as Santana walked by Mr Schue, muttering to the man, "Don't touch me. Don't touch me."

"It's called 'Big Ass... Heart'."

"Why was that good?" you asked once the boy's short performance was over, "Stop making things that I like."

Mr Schuester, it seems, didn't share your same opinions, 'cause as soon as he could, he popped up out of his seat, hoping to get the boy off of the floor.

"All right, guys, let's make Puck's song a contender, but I don't totally think we're there yet. Everyone look at your rhyming dictionaries, and let's work on banging out some songs that rock."

---

"I have to talk with you."

With a short yell, you startled back, slamming your locker door in reaction. Snapping your head to the side, you spotted your sister, an almost conspiring look upon her features.

"Hey. Why do you always have to scare me? How was your songwriting session with blondie?" you asked, beginning to make your way down the hall, forcing a trailing Rachel to jog to catch up, to be by your side.

"It was fine. Quinn lacks my vision and years of studying lyrics and the meaning behind songs, but with some more work, I'm sure she could help me."

You rolled your eyes in reaction to her grandiose words while she quickly shook her head. "But that's not what I want to talk to you about."

"Aha. And what's on your mind?"

"I think Finn is dating Quinn again."

A familiar weight sunk in your chest. Cold and heavy. Something close to hopeless despair.

But you couldn't let your sister know that.

And you couldn't tell her that you knew they had been fooling around, even with no proof of that fact, considering she had flat-out believed Quinn's lie in the last celibacy club session you had attended. It would destroy her, and even though you knew you should tell her the truth, it would be the right thing to do, but you just didn't want to see her hurt.

"What makes you say that?"

"They were talking, and they were really close."

You gasped sarcastically, "I'll call the Pope!"

"Y/N, would you take this seriously?"

"And why the hell should I do that?" you asked, talking with a hand whilst the other held onto the strap of your backpack, "They were just taking, Rach. They can do that."

"Yeah, but it seemed... different."

"'Different' how?"

"Like they were talking about their relationship."

"And how does that look?" you almost laughed, "Look, Rach, at the end of the day, it's none of our business what they were talking about, no matter if he's your ex or not- If anything, you have less of a right to know."

Before she could reply, you were literally saved by the bell ringing overhead, signalling the start of your next class.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb. "I have to go get a 'C+' on my calculus homework... with any luck," you finished to yourself as you walked away from her,

Thoughts of Quinn and Finn swam through your mind as that sinking feeling continued to grow.

---

It was a relief when Mercedes pulled you away from the rhyming dictionary before you with the incredible song she wrote and performed for everyone in the choir room.

"Yeah. Mercedes," Mr Schuester applauded with the club, speaking over everyone's cheers, "Really, really good."

"Thank you." The girl beamed.

"But, um..."

Mercedes' smile dropped at that.

"'But' my butt, Mr Schue. That song was amazing." She pointed a finger in the man's face as to get her point across.

"No, I agree. I'm just not sure that it's Regionals material."

The girl sighed softly, making her way over to the seats.

"Mr Schue, I wrote another verse of 'Trouty Mouth'," Santana voiced, bringing the attention to her, spurring Sam to raise the sign he had scribbled onto his notepad in support of Mercedes' song, reading 'hell no'.

Nodding along with the Latina from your seat beside her at the piano, you said, "I helped."

"No, no, no. Guys- Guys, just think about it. What's your favourite song of all time?"

"'My Headband'," Brittany spoke instantly.

"I'll let Rachel know that one person likes the song she's been torturing me with for weeks now."

"Allina Morissette's 'You Oughta Know'," Santana offered next.

Puckerman was Next. "'What's going on', Marvin Gaye."

"Puckerman, you're on a roll." Zizes complimented from where she stood, leaning against the side of the piano closest to you.

Taking the time to think on it while Santana and Puck had offered their favourite songs, you wracked your brain to find one of the songs that you loved.

"'Piano Man' by Billy Joel." You nodded, playing with the pen between your fingers.

"Okay, and what are all those songs about?" the teacher questioned.

"Headbands?" Brittany shrugged behind him.

Deciding to ignore the dirty blonde's answer, the man continued, "All these songs come from a place of pain. Look, the greatest songs are about hurt. And that's the side of yourself I want you to get in touch with."

"That should be easy," Artie stated, "Coach Sylvester tortures us for no reason and tries to get the entire school to hate us."

"Not that they didn't already." You shrugged. "At this point, it's just beating a dead horse with a stick."

"Yesterday, she filled Britt's and my lockers with dirt."

Mr Schuester rushed up to the whiteboard to begin listing Sue Sylvester's verbal abuse to the club.

"Okay, okay. Slow down."

"Literally no one else was talking," you uttered.

Mercedes voiced her own complaint about the blonde coach next, "Well, she literally throws sticks at me."

"Okay, what else? What else?"

"She called the Ohio Secretary of State saying she was me and that I wanna legally change my name to Tina Cohen-Loser."

You couldn't help but snort at that as everyone looked on in shock.

"She...?"

"Mean. Mean."

"I'm sorry," you told the girl, "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Okay, and how does that make you feel?"

"That she shouldn't be around children."

Fin had something else to say, however.

"Well... at first it hurts, but... then it mostly makes you wanna win."

"Guys..." the teacher smiled. "I think you may have just found your song."

"And that song is 'Trouty Mouth'." You pointed.

"No!" Mr Schue and Sam called out at the same time. Disappointing both you and the Latina who created the song.

"Now let's get to writing," the curly-haired man psyched everyone up as the title 'Loser Like Me' sat on the board behind him.

With a deep, grunted sigh, you dropped your head onto Santana's shoulder, preparing yourself for the only lesson to go.

By the end of the Glee Club meeting, your brain was fried by the number of words that ran through it. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to string together a sentence if your life depended on it.

To come to your sister's aid, however? That was a whole other thing entirely.

It was the end of the school day, and you knew Rachel would be working overtime on her songwriting, dragging Quinn along with her.

And considering you would rather not have a murdered sister, you were on your way to the auditorium, fully intent on dragging her kicking and screaming from the school if you had to. 'Cause, there was no way in hell that you were coming back to pick her up.

Only, you didn't have to do anything of the sort.

You were stunned in place just before you could reach the backstage door of the auditorium when your sister strode out, tears spilling from her eyes, trying to keep her sobs at bay.

"I'll be waiting in the car," she whimpered, rushing past you, trying to get out of the school as quick as possible but knowing that you weren't about to let her state slide.

So, as you watched her leave down the hall, your face grew hard, anger boiling up within you, face turning into a snarl as you span on your heel, slammed the door open, and strode over to where the blonde was sitting at the piano on the stage.

"Hey, what the hell did you say to her?!" you asked, pointing behind you.

Quinn sniffed, blinking back the wetness building up in her red eyes.

Maybe if you weren't so angry at her, you would have noticed apparent distress of her own.

"I just gave her a dose of reality," she said primly, straightening out the papers scattered along the grand piano.

"Reality that makes her cry?"

"Life sucks, sometimes, Y/N," she snapped, "She needs to get used to it- The rest of us have."

You scoffed at that, shaking your head in reaction.

"You know, though last year you were pregnant and had all of those demon hormones, so that if I said, "Hey, I don't like this flavour of gum," you would go into an eternal rage. But at least you weren't such a heinous bitch all the time!"

The blonde was gobsmacked by your sudden snapped reaction, gasping and pointing to her chest as she repeated your words, in offence, "You think I'm a heinous bitch?"

"Oh no, I know you are!"

"And what?" she challenged, "You want me to go back to being that sad, pregnant girl? Just so that you will like me?"

"No." You shook your head, obviously. "I want you to go back to that girl who cared about people other than herself."

"You think I don't care?"

"Do you call this caring?!" you argued, gesturing to the space around you wildly, "Really? So, what was this "dose of reality" you gave her that you consider caring?" you asked, utilising air quotes as you did.

"I told her that she didn't belong here, in this town. She was going to get out of here, and I was just sending her on her way." She almost sneered, confusing you, as you thought she had insulted your sister and not told her exactly what she wanted to hear. "That I was going to get married to Finn and start a family, he was going to get Burt's tire shop, and I would become a successful real estate agent, and she-" Quinn had to take in a sharp breath to gear herself up for what she was about to say. "She knows that she's going to get everything she has ever dreamed of... just not the boy she loved in high school."

The blonde had a hard time reading you as you stood there, silently evaluating her.

"Is that really what you think of yourself?" you asked finally, confusing her.

"What?"

"You think you're gonna be stuck here for the rest of your life?"

"That's my dose of reality. I've gotten used to it."

Suddenly, your dwindling anger spurred back to life.

"After- After everything I told you, you still believe that?"

"What do you mean?"

"How many times have I told you you can do anything, Quinn Fabray?" you stepped up to her now, unknowingly mirroring her and Rachel's positions from only minutes ago, only flipped in your favour.

But still, the girl was stubborn. Looking up at you with a hard pour, not backing down.

"You're amazing, and you don't fucking see it. You once told me that you wanted to help change the word, make it a better place-"

"That was just a silly dream!" She yelled, flinging her arms out by her sides.

"No, it's not! It's not silly, and it's less a dream and more of a plan. Being a real estate agent is all well and good, but you are destined for far better things- Greater things."

It was only then that you noticed the hopeless look in her eyes, the way they shone with tears, reddened and burning as she fought them off tooth and nail.

"Quinn," you breathed, "Is... is this about-?"

"Don't." She sneered. "Just... just don't, Y/N. I don't want to hear this right now."

She turned, trying to walk away before you could confront her truth when it was too hard for her to do so herself.

"You don't need to hide yourself like this."

"What do you know?!" she yelled, spinning back to face you, tears fully built up in her eyes, but still, none fell, as she stormed back over to you, "You've never had to do it! You've never had to be someone you're not. You're lucky enough to have a family that accepted you the second you were born. Not only that, but your parents relate to you on that!"

"Yeah, you're right." You nodded after a few moments of silence. "I don't understand exactly what you're going through. But I do know that you don't have to throw yourself into a life you truly don't want just because you're too scared to be you. Look, I'm not telling you to come out or lead the fucking pride parade. That's up to you. It's your choice. You can still live the life you want without doing all that. Don't throw your dreams away because you're scared of how other people will perceive you."

And with that, you left the blonde alone to her thoughts, heading off to comfort your crying sister as best you could.

You couldn't get anything out of her during the whole car ride back home, which was abnormal for her when she was in a state such as ones like this.

Even when you arrived home, Rachel rushed straight up to her pastel yellow room, leaving you to watch from her doorway as she cried and scribbled lyrics onto her notepad, surrounded by multiple drafts crumpled up around her.

With a deep sigh and a droop of your shoulders, you knew there was nothing you could do to help her at that moment. She didn't want any help nor did she want comfort, so there was no likelihood that she would accept it.

Stepping foot into your own room, your eyes travelled to where your own pad of paper sat at your desk, infesting your brain with thoughts of writing your own song.

Shaking your head, you quickly decided, "absolutely not." Instead, you pulled out your textbook to work on your homework, your brain was broken enough from songwriting today, and you needed to finish your history for tomorrow. Even if you wanted to lay down and nap for the next four hours.

---

The next few days passed in a blur and yet dwindled along slowly, at the same time, mainly when you and your sister had to be around the blonde and her boyfriend.

But the day had finally arrived.

Regionals.

You had to admit that you weren't that hopeful, with your songs being original and all that, but you were still gonna give it your all. If not for yourself or your team, but for your sister.

As usual, your club was late arriving at the competition, so as the announcer introduced the first competitors over the PA, you scooted your way through the rows to your designated seats.

"-Let's have a warm welcome for Aural Intensity!"

"Still sounds like a stupid term for going down on someone," you mumbled over to Mike, who had to stifle his laugh into his shoulder.

The expression you wore was one of disgusted astonishment, watching Sue's clear attempt at pandering to the judges, which only further grew with the cheering crowd.

You just hoped that Kurt and the Warbler's performance was far better than what you were just forced to sit through.

That hope was quickly proved true, as to your utter surprise, your friend began the setlist for his Glee Club, which made you beam out of pure happiness for this chance for him to shine in front of an audience.

Both Berry's in the crowd found their eyes trailing over to the couple that was Quinn and Finn, noticing the way that their hands were linked. Rachel and yourself yearning for opposite people in said couple. How two people could captivate a pair of siblings and be together like it was nothing, effortlessly crushing both Berry's hearts, was beyond you. It just seemed like a sick joke the world was playing.

Tearing your eyes away from them, you focused back on your friend and his boyfriend.

You suppose that is why he didn't let you know that he would be singing front and centre for this competition. He was far too excited to gush about the boy he had been harbouring feelings for, for months now, who had become his boyfriend. And not only that, he had had his first real kiss, that wasn't with Brittany. Or, unknowingly to you, taking from him by Karofsky.

After their duet and Blane's rendition of 'Raise Your Glass', that got the whole crowd jumping on their feet, it was the New Direction's turn to perform.

Walking through the backstage area with Santana by your side, you overheard Finn talking to your sister.

"I really like your song."

"It sure is better than 'My Headband'." You threw over your shoulder, gaining a soft glare from Rachel before she swiftly turned back to talk to her ex-boyfriend.

"I still think I should have sung 'Trouty Mouth' as the solo."

Breathing out a laugh, you threw your arm over the girl's shoulder. "Oh, I agree with you there."

From across the way, almost as if his ears had been attuned to the two words so that he would be able to hear them strung together within a five-mile radius, Sam yelled, "Stop talking about 'Trouty Mouth'!" Harbouring laughs from the club in reaction.

"And now, from William McKinley High in Lima, Ohio, the New Directions!"

You were by Finn's side during the entirety of your sister's performance, arms folded across your chest, all the while he listened to the lyrics intently, with an awestruck look on his face.

"She was crying while she wrote this."

"Why?" he breathed back as if speaking any louder would disrupt the performance. Unable to take his eyes off of his singing ex.

You could have told him about her and Quinn's argument, but you thought it best to give him the whole, blaring, obvious truth.

"Because she's still in the love with you."

His breath shortened then, while you glanced behind him, spotting his girlfriend, who had obviously heard your statement, staring into your soul with a look you couldn't quite decipher. She was frustrated and annoyed you could tell that much, even though she hid it well. But there was also a hopelessness and longing emitted from her.

But there wasn't long for you to dwell on it, as a few moments later, she and the rest of the girls were marching out. Followed by the boys and yourself after Rachel had introduced your team. Which quickly lead into your next and final song for the competition.

You were glad that it wasn't another slow number, where you had to be careful and intricate with your dance moves, but instead was one where you could end it off by dousing the audience with shiny red confetti, masquerading in slushie cups along with a cart. A reference, which only people who knew about and attended your school would know of.

After the judges had taken a short amount of time in their deliberation, the three Glee Clubs and their directors were gathered on stage to hear the results of the competition.

"And now, to announce our winner, Lieutenant Governor Stevens' wife, Carla Turlington Stevens."

"Who are these random-ass people they get for these things?" you whispered, once again to Mike, as you joined everyone else to applaud for the woman.

"Do you think they would be able to get anyone else to do it?" he countered.

"Touché, I supposed not."

Once the woman took the stage, she felt that to be the ideal time to get her troubles off of her chest.

"My husband is verbally abusive, and I have been drinking since noon." Feedback from the microphone was the only thing that filled the awkward silence her confession had garnered. "I'm bored. Let's just see who won, huh?" Suspense filled the three hopeful teams as the drunk woman opened the first-place envelope. "The New Directions, you're going to Nationals in New York."

The celebrations with your team were cut short, thanks to Sue Sylvester's outburst, where she strode up to the Governor's wife and knocked her out cold.

Talk about being a sore loser.

---

You were sat beside your sister when Mr Schuester walked into the choir room, carrying a small trophy, busy talking on the phone.

"I'll show you the video when you get home. Have fun at the sweat lodge." You cringed at the next words he cooed down the line, trying -and failing- to hide it from his students. "Namaste to you too. Okay, bye."

Leaning closer to Rachel you muttered, "She could do so much better than him." Knowing that he and Holly Holliday had been seeing each other since she came in to teach everyone about sex, because they were so bad at hiding it.

Only she wasn't the only person who had heard your comment.

Quinn Fabray, who was seated in front of your sister, peered at you from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a smile shadowing her lips. Sending a hopeful rush through you, even though your mind was screaming at you that it was worthless to even feel.

"Miss Holliday sends her best," he turned to tell the team, "And can't wait to congratulate you all in person when she gets back from her meditation retreat. Now, we all know that winning Regionals was a team effort, and Nationals isn't going to be any different. But... like in sports, every winning team has a player that rises above to help carry their teammates to victory. The M.V.P.." He pointed before bringing the gold star trophy into view. "And I would like to start a tradition of honouring that player after every one of our competitions. So, per a unanimous vote by all of you... our Regionals M.V.P. is... Miss Rachel Berry."

The club applauded for your sister as the director waved her down to accept her award.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." She beamed. "If I could just say a few words?"

"Sure."

"And here she goes, making me regret voting for her," Santana said dryly.

"Same." You nodded, smiling down at Rachel playfully. Please don't start singing."

She rolled her brown eyes at you.

"Well, first of all, I just wanna say how amazing the song you guys wrote was. I-I was so inspired. You know, it's funny. I've won a lot of trophies before for singing competitions, and dancing competitions but... I've always felt like the girl who never gets the brass ring... and maybe I never will." She shrugged. "But today a-and at Regionals... the way you guys believed in me and... took a chance with me... all I've ever wanted was to feel special... and to feel chosen. And... I just, um... I wanted to thank you guys so much for giving me that. So, that's all."

After your sister's tearful speech, you lead the charge in giving her a hug, a proud look on your face, at her -not arrogant- speech.

So maybe doing original songs wasn't the worst idea ever.

You still thought it was pretty dumb, though.

However, there was no way you were gonna let Rachel know that anytime soon.

After all, you were far too excited for one thing and one thing alone.

New York City.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday hauntedcllhouse!

@hauntedcllhouse As per your request, here's Victoria and your OC daughter Lily hanging out in the ocean together, discussing stockings and the wearing thereof. :p Hope you enjoy!

--

“I’m just saying, Mamma, if I don’t have to wear stockings, I don’t see why you do.”

“Because it’s what’s done,” Victoria said simply, shaking her head at her daughter as they floated together, bobbing in the gentle swell of the ocean tides. “A polite woman in society makes sure she is properly dressed for all occasions. And that includes a proper set of stockings.”

“Yes, but – Mamma, are we actually in society?” Lily pressed, spinning herself around with one hand to look Victoria in the eye. “You and Daddy never attend any of the parties that Grandmother Van Dort sends you invitations to, despite all her complaining. And you barely keep up any correspondence with the people Grandmother Everglot has introduced you to, despite all of her complaining. We spend most of our time at home in the village, keeping to ourselves and not entertaining anyone. Even on this trip, we’re not going to any balls or dances or dinners – we’re walking the promenade and going to museums and swimming.” She sent a little playful wave of water at her mother. “There’s no one to impress with your stockings!”

“I – we’ve attended a few luncheons,” Victoria said, though even she knew that wasn’t much of an argument. “Played a round of croquet with Lord and Lady Kingsleigh. And we have visitors at home from time to time. We’re not total shut-ins.”

“Still! We’re hardly hobnobbers,” Lily said, kicking her feet idly. A faintly-wicked grin crossed her face. “And besides, Mamma, all your dresses reach the floor. No one could possibly see if you decided not to wear stockings. Why, you could get away with not even wearing shoes!”

“I most certainly could not,” Victoria declared, laughing. “Everyone would be able to tell in a moment just from my footprints in the carpet!”

“Oh, let them see your footprints,” Lily said, tossing her head as she spun away from her again. “Feet aren’t evil, you know.” She wiggled her toes in Victoria’s general direction. “Just occasionally funny-looking.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t think anyone coming to tea at our house would appreciate knowing that I’d served them barefooted. It seems at least somewhat unhygienic.”

“Why? Are you making the tea with your feet?”

Victoria snorted, then shook her head and used her arm to paddle a little closer to her daughter. “Lily, I know you think some of the rules of society are silly,” she said gently. “And that you hate the idea of anybody being forced to do something they don’t wish to. But when it comes to wearing stockings, nobody is forcing me to do anything. I like wearing stockings. I don’t feel properly dressed without them on – depending on circumstances,” she added, looking down at her bathing suit. “And I don’t think I’d feel comfortable wandering about without them, even if nobody could actually see.” She pulled tugged her daughter close to plant a salty kiss on her forehead. “I promise I won’t ever make you wear them if you don’t want. But when it comes to me – well, I do want.”

Lily squinted at her a moment – then sighed. “All right, Mamma,” she said. “I won’t throw them all away in the middle of the night. But I still think it’s silly.”

“Well, you’re allowed to think that.” Victoria gave her a little smile. “But also think this – what do you think your Grandmother Everglot would do to me if she ever knew that I was improperly dressed for an occasion?”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “She shouldn’t do anything – you’re your own person,” she snapped, then deflated. “But you’re right. I wouldn’t want to hear her carry on either.”

“Exactly – and neither does your father,” Victoria said, releasing her and going back to drifting. “Or your other mother, even if she can much more easily get away. So I think I’ll keep my stockings on.”

“Fine.” Lily tilted her head as a breeze passed over them, as if listening to some unseen whisper. “But – perhaps you could at least get some prettier ones than just plain white? Grandmother Everglot couldn’t object to patterns if they match your dress.”

Victoria flashed her a grin. “Now that I think I could take under advisement.”

[apomaro-mellow]

Bye Bye Baby

Link to the song

In the early days of fame, Steve went with Eddie everywhere the band went. As the years went on though, Steve got more busy with his job and wasn’t always able to come along on tour.

“I can’t just skip school, Eddie.”

“Why not? We did it all the time.”

“We weren’t the teacher!”

“Yeah, but if you skip, think of all the kids you’ll inspire to become skippers.”

Obviously, Eddie lost that argument. But whenever Eddie did have to go one the road without him, they had a little routine to remind themselves of what was waiting when he got back.

Eddie’s suitcase and guitar were standing by the door and he was ready to go. Well, not ready to go. He and Steve were wrapped around each other, lightly swaying by the door. One of the things Eddie realized was that when he left that made Steve susceptible to any Tom, Dick, and, Harry that might look his way.

He kissed Steve twice before beginning to sing in a low voice.

“Bye bye baby. Remember you’re baby when they give you the eye~”

Steve looked away, like he couldn’t believe anyone would be eyeing him like in their school days but Eddie wouldn’t hear it. He grabbed his chin and made him look back up.

“Although I know that you care, won’t you write and declare? That though on the loose, you are still on the square?” His hand moved back to Steve’s hip, mirroring the other one. “I’ll be gloomy. But send that rainbow to me, then my shadows will fly. Though I’ll be gone for a while, I know that I’ll be smilin’ with my baby by and by~”

Steve was looking at him with stars in his eyes and Eddie was finding it harder to go. Why was he leaving again? Steve’s arms had been around his neck but now one hand was cradling the back of his head and the other was playing with his curls.

“I’ll be in my room alone~ Every post meridian~”

With Steve singing in that husky tone of his, Eddie couldn’t help it. He kissed Steve again, just as deep as before. His own little Marilyn. Steve smiled against his lips, pulling back lazily to continue singing the slower, more intimate reprise.

“Bye bye ba~by~ Remember you’re my baby, when they give you the eye.” Steve had seen plenty, men and women throwing their underwear on stage at his boyfriend. “And just to show that I care, I will write and declare that I~m on the loose but I’ll stay on the square. I’ll be lonely, but even though I’m lonely, there’ll be no other guy~ Though you’ll be gone for a while, I know that I’ll be smilin’-”

A car honked outside. Jeff had arrived to pick up Eddie and head to the airport.

“Bye baby”, Eddie said, kissing him again, letting his hands lower even more to cup both cheeks. With great effort, he pulled away and grabbed his luggage. Steve kissed his cheek on his way out and pinched his ass, making him jump a little.

They’d both be counting the minutes.

[aaaaaaaaagenloser]

(Tw: kinda transphobia? Use of it/its for a character who hasn’t declared what their pronouns are yet. Arguments over whether a character is a person or not; that ties into the pronoun thing here. Bonus points for descriptions of canon-typical gore yipeeee)

An update from after writing this: oh this. Got. This one got away from me?? I think I started this at 4 minutes past the hour. It is now 43 minutes past the hour. shitt.

Update; it is now 17 minutes after the NEXT hour. 26 minutes after th last update. I have seen god in the past hour and she shook in fear of both my power and audacity. I have lunch with my family scheduled in like 6 hours and I have not yet slept. This wasn’t meant to be as long as it is but I was possessed and this is the result. I may edit it and make it smoother later but I’ll make that a separate post, I want this sleep-deprived chunk of words to be here as like a monument to the fact that I could have been playing stardew valley during this time but I chose to do this instead

TLDR: long ass story ahead written by a sleep-deprived and hyperfixation-driven author. Who is now going the fuck to BED

“We can’t just keep it! What if it has a tracking device? It won’t let us fucking touch it so there’s no way of knowing it has one unless it leads them right to us!”

“Ok, I hear you but think. That hasn’t happened yet. It’s been about what, three days? and that hasn’t happened, and they haven’t been violent towards any of us at all. They haven’t tried to go back either, so there’s no risk of them telling or leading Showfall where we are.”

“Why do you keep calling it ‘they’?”

“Well they can’t be an “it” now can it? …wait.”

“Ok can we figure out the gender of the thing in the other room after we figure out if it’s a threat to us or not. It’s not even a fucking person, you remember what those things did to you back there, don’t you?”

“Those people were not themselves, they were just doing what he wanted them to do—“

“They’re not fucking people! Those things are all part of Showfall, just like Hetch was! It’s just waiting for the right time to turn us in, or pull some shit on one of us like they did before.”

“They weren’t… they weren’t in control.”

“Yeah like fuck they weren’t, I saw it fucking happen!”

“You can’t just… Ok. Sneeg. Stop. You don’t speak for me, the one who, oh I don’t know, was the one that shit happened to? They were being controlled just like us—“

“No, no, not like us. We were wandering around and not knowing what the fuck was happening. None of us knew what was happening. We just went along blindly. Those things—on purpose—dragged you to that stupid wall and sewed wires into your hands—“

“Shut up, Sneeg—“

“No you shut up! You didn’t see it fucking happen! I saw them and Bitchface literally hold you down until you passed out! They were fucking choking you, they fucking—they nearly fucking killed you with just their hands, that’s not a little suggestion in the back of your brain, that’s on purpose! That is fucking deliberate, that is a thing those machines chose to do! You don’t remember, you weren’t conscious when they fucking stapled you to the wall and strapped your head in—“

Sneeg glanced at Ranboo for a moment in-between pacing as he ranted, and the far away look in their sibling’s eyes shut them up immediately. Ranboo was still present, thank fuck, but they were looking at their brother like he was holding up a knife to their throat.

“Fuck, Ran, okay, okay—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… shit. Do you need Charlie?”

“You don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

“…okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Do you need me to get Charlie?”

“No, I’m fucking fine.” It did not sound like he meant that at all. His voice was less steady than before. “I don’t want him to worry about our… hitchhiker. He’s worrying enough about… well, everything.”

“The fact that it’s here, so close to us is the reason I’m trying to get you to see, Ran. What if it turns on him? What if it does that shit to him when we aren’t there?”

“We will be there.”

“And when it tries anything, we can kill it?”

“Sneeg!”

“You wouldn’t kill it, even if it hurt our fucking brother?”

“Of course we wouldn’t keep them around if they did that, could we at least just… just leave it behind? …wait, no, they couldn’t take care of themselves. If we had to leave it behind, maybe we should…”

Silence lingered for a bit too long.

“We should what, Ran?”

“…Sneeg, I was about to say that killing it would be a mercy.” The Hero laughed. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

The Taken didn’t reply.

“We have to help them. I don’t… I don’t want to be on the other end of a mercy killing. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

“Okay. I’m—are you okay?”

“…m fine. It’s fine. Just. Can you stop acting like they’re any different from us? Please.”

“What do you want me to think then?” His voice was softer than it had been a few minutes before.

“Just assume that they… that they were someone. Just like we were before. And they didn’t… they didn’t do anything on their own, it was all Showfall.”

“Okay. Fine. Let’s assume they were controlled, they didn’t mean to, so on and so forth. Why haven’t they talked yet.”

“I don’t think any of the drones even could talk. Wait, should we really be calling them a drone—“

“Shut the fuck up, Ranboo, we have got to figure out what to do with it. It probably doesn’t even know what is happening, what the fuck does it matter what we call it.”

“It matters to me! Do you want me to call you by your title? Do you want to call me by mine? …No? Then why are we treating them like all they are is what Showfall made them? We had lives before, we were someone, so they must have been too. They might not realize it, or… or act like it, but they used to be someone. They are a whole person, Sneeg. We have to help them, we can’t just leave them behind because that would mean we are giving up on someone just like us, and we cannot give up on each other. They… they would have hurt us by now if they were going to. And Showfall hasn’t found us since… you know, which means there aren’t any more trackers.

…okay, Sneeg?”

“…okay. If it,” he sighed at the look Ran gave them, “if they try anything, we have to leave them behind. I’m not letting a dumbass puppet be the reason we get taken back.”

“If they—ok, whatever, you’re not understanding. You can’t say one of us somehow wanted to be controlled, and they’re a ‘puppet’ but those rules don’t apply to the rest of us—“

“There is not an ‘us,’ Ran! That thing isn’t like us!”

“Guys?”

A sleepy voice shut the two of them up instantly. They had a split-second conversation with their eyes before looking to their brother. ‘We aren’t done talking about this’ ‘You’e absolutely right, so later?’ ‘Later.’ ‘We’re telling Charlie nothing happened?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Ok good plan.’

“Why are you two fighting? I’m tired, can we please go back to sleep?”

“We weren’t fighting, we were…”

“…talking about plans for tomorrow. And you can go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to be by myself.” Charlie looked at Sneeg pointedly, who sighed to Ranboo with a playfully annoyed expression.

“Well I guess I gotta go be a teddy bear again.”

“Have fun”

“Absolutely not.”

Charlie punched Sneeg in the shoulder lightly for that, who just giggled in response and led his little brother back to their room.

Which left Ran by themselves.

Some nights, he would join them, but some nights Charlie couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Ran, and the three of them had made a silent mutual agreement that Charlie trusted Sneeg more than he did Ranboo.

…Ranboo was okay with this. He wasn’t hurt by it. He didn’t cry on the nights he slept by himself.

He didn’t wish he could be the one Sneeg comforted sometimes. They were just fine.

They were fine, which is why they went to the living room where their… well. Their hitchhiker? They weren’t exactly a brother, or a sibling, more like a fourth wheel on a tricycle. Or a flyaway hair. Okay, maybe Ranboo needed to get tbr fuck to sleep, alone or not.

But he found himself in the living room, where their hitchhiker slept. Or, didn’t sleep, as they seemed to not need to. They would sit on the couch and stare idly at the tv. That was what had started the whole conversation with Sneeg in the first place; Ran wanted to leave some kind of entertainment for the fourth person so they wouldn’t be made to sit in the dark for hours. Sneeg took this remark as a perfect opportunity to explain all the reasons why the former drone should be abandoned, but Ranboo would have fucking none of it. Maybe the couch potato (shit, he really needed to come up with a name for them—) didn’t seem to sleep, barely ate, and stayed still unless actually verbally told to move, but they were still a person. Ranboo was sure of it.

Their hand wandered up to the fresh scabs where their mask had been. The fourth person had a mask, one that hadn’t been touched. Despite usually staying still, the person—(Ranboo thinks they might just call this person Couch for now. Maybe it’s not accurate, and they’re tired, but it’s something. C, for short.)

C would back away any time the others would try to get near them. And they did in fact try, but despite how creative or sneaky they got, C always ducked away. It reminded Ranboo of the drone who had followed them with a camera, always one step away and never letting the Hero get too close.

The mask turned to Ranboo, who stared back quietly. C hadn’t talked at all, so Ranboo didn’t expect them to suddenly start now. He wasn’t even sure if they understood what was said to them, but Ranboo wanted to try anyways. Better to be polite.

“Do you like the show that’s on? I think it’s called Lucy, or something. I don’t know, Sneeg said it was funny. And it didn’t seem, uh- scary or anything.”

The mask didn’t speak.

“If you want to change it, the remote’s right there, um, I showed you how to use it before. And there’s like, instructions drawn on there. You can thank Charlie for that one.”

…

“I think I’m going to head to bed.”

…

“Fuck it, can I stay here?”

The mask still didn’t speak, but the head hidden behind it tilted a bit at the sudden change in tone. Ranboo took this as an absolute win.

“So I just. I don’t want to be by myself. And I don’t think you sleep, I mean if you just sleep when everyone else is asleep that’s cool, but also if so how do you even? function? on that much sleep? It really isn’t that much but to be fair you don’t do much so maybe you don’t need it. …do you sleep sitting up? And just somehow wake up when we get close? I know, um. Sorry about that, again, we were just worried your mask had a tracker like mine used to.”

Ran laughed nervously. “I think I did convince them that it doesn’t, so that should stop now. If um. If we make you uncomfortable you still don’t have to be touched, it’s, it’s fine.”

Other than the head tilt before, there wasn’t a reply.

“Okay, since. You can’t talk, I’m just gonna… I’ll sit down beside you. On the couch. And if you don’t want me to be that close you can uh- you can leave. Or like, get up, and then I’ll leave. This is the only room with a tv, so I’ll let you stay here, but I can’t tell if you want me to be here or not, so. Okay, sorry, I’m rambling. Just… move if you want me to leave, okay?”

Ranboo waited for a response that didn’t come, then sighed. “Okay.” He kept his hands up and open while sitting down, waiting for a few moments before tucking his feet under himself to get more comfortable. “I’m just gonna stay here, okay? Like I said, just move if you want me to leave.”

The mask had tracked them to where they sat now, but the person—C—didn’t make a move to leave. Ranboo turned their attention to the tv, keeping an eye on their couch partner in their peripheral vision. During a moment of audience laughter in the show—I Love Lucy, they remembered—C turned their head back to the television as they had been before Ranboo walked in.

Seeing as how C (they needed a better name than that—) didn’t speak, this was the closest Ranboo could get to being told “you can stay here.” So they did. A few episodes later, his head was on the arm of the couch and his eyes were closed.

Five turned its attention to the Hero, who was now asleep. He had said it was a person, which was almost hilarious. And the Taken and the Hero seemed to think it couldn’t talk? They had to know it needed to be given permission first: any handler of a Drone or Prop knew that basic rule. It would wait until permission was given: it knew how to obey. It wasn’t meant to speak to a superior unless it was told it was allowed. It would wait.

…in the meantime, it studied its handler, the Hero. The other Actors, their two other handlers, called him ‘Ranboo’ but Five knew that wasn’t his actual label. The Hero was his character in the last show, and so that is who he was. Five didn’t know if Actors had a number, but he had been called the Hero in the script, and so the Hero he will be until the script changes.

It hoped to get new instructions, a new script for itself, something, soon. It was tired of simply watching the Actors go about their incredibly off-script show. It was sometimes told to participate, and since no other superiors were nearby, it had to obey its current handlers. But it was told to participate, to stir eggs, to help clean the kitchen, to attack small webs in corners with a stick with soft spikes on the end. Those sorts of things weren’t it’s usual directive, and so it found itself…

It didn’t resent its handlers. They were doing their best, and they at least knew that they were meant to give it orders. It simply wished they were familiar orders. It wished the Hero had told it to play dead, or play chase, or play camera, or caught, or prop. It would even listen if it was told to power down until needed. At least then it wouldn’t have to be conscious in this boring and unfamiliar set.

.

Y EA I know they probably don’t like tvs. Shhhhhh. I didn’t think about that until like. I had already written the tv part. At this moment it is 55 minutes past th hour and I want these characters to go the fuck to sleep so I can go thr fuck to sleep /lh

And yeah Five only uses “he” for glran. That is intentional. It’ll be talked about and shit later. Something about being put into a role, something about showfall being transphobic, something something I want to go to bed

Powering down = “sleeping” for a drone. Different but similar. I’ll explain how it works later?, anyway The others hav e told Five to “sleep” but it doesn’t understand because it is only ever told to “power down” so it’s like error.sleep_not_found and it stares at them like “bitch you said the wrong. Thing. You’re supposed to know how to control me so you don’t want me to power down I fucking guess” and it’s gonna be really funny after that miscommunication is taken care of.

If you remember the Five Gets A Cold And Wants To Throw Hands With Everyone post, this is wayyy before that. These motherfuckers are fresh out of showfall. Don’t ask how they got a house. I’ll figure it out

I am! Tired! I’m not proofreading this!! Goodnight please give me your thoughts if you have them. I need to know I didn’t sacrifice tbis much sleep in vain /nf /lh (I appreciate words but you are Not required to give them. Love you have a good nigt/p)

[shiningwonderland]

Ai Mikaze (All Star)

Translator: Nadie (Twitter: nmoniag)

Proofreader: Raz (Twitter: agnadance)

Editors: Whitney (Twitter: whitormiss), Terry (Twitter: turtlemudge)

Chapter Three — Snowflake Memories

The season has changed and it became December. Today’s shoot is in a park close to the sea.

It’s already been a week since Mikaze-senpai first came to my room to nurse me.

Mikaze-senpai seems to be somewhat worried about my health.

He has begun assisting me when I’m unable to do my work, even though he complains.

I’ve also continued my role as an acting coach (for Mikaze-senpai only), which I was appointed to last month.

Director: Cut! Wasn’t that quite good?

He thanks Mikaze-senpai with a smile. The shooting progresses really smoothly.

But an incident follows right after that.

Ai Mikaze: As I said... if you have any complaints, wouldn’t it be better to use your own talent against me?

I hear Senpai’s voice from behind the park and it sounds as if he’s interrogating someone. Concerned, I rush over.

Mikaze-senpai is facing off against someone.

That person looks familiar. If I remember correctly, he was also with us during the previous shooting...

Ai Mikaze: Hiding my clothes, giving me the wrong schedule... even for harassment, that is way too immature.

If you’re going to harass me, why not hand me an original script rewritten by yourself? Why not show me that you can go that far?

Though if you had the intellect to do something like that, then you wouldn’t be doing this...

Talent A: Even though you’re a shitty brat, you’re all about smooth talk, huh? Do you always sweet talk your way into getting your roles like this?

Ai Mikaze: Sigh... I am speechless... I wonder which one of us is the shitty brat here.

As if in a state of shock, all the staff members are looking at these two from a distance.

Haruka Nanami: Um... this is...

Staff A: This is just a rumor, but that man was most likely originally supposed to be the protagonist.

Haruka Nanami: ... Is that so!?

Staff A: Something changed and suddenly Mikaze-kun became the protagonist, which is why he doesn’t think highly of him.

The shooting was continuing smoothly since last month and Mikaze-senpai’s acting was also gradually improving.

They’re from the same agency, Senpai gets along with Kotobuki-senpai, and his reputation at the shooting site is also good but...

His popularity seems to have backfired and ended up provoking this person instead.

If what Mikaze-senpai said is true, then that person is in the wrong. However, if this keeps going on it might turn into a big argument.

I have to do something to stop this.

Select the phrase!

止めてください  Please stop. (+0 Love)

I rush over with determination.

Haruka Nanami: You two! Please stop it already!

Ai Mikaze: Don’t interrupt. This is a problem between him and me.

Mikaze-senpai says calmly.

謝ってください   Please apologize. (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Er... please apologize! And please do not make such a fuss again! I am begging you.

I say and lower my head.

Talent A: What? What are you even saying, butting in like this?!

The actor glares at me.

Ai Mikaze: You are talking to me, right? Do not... lay a hand on her.

Mikaze-senpai says this, and gives him a harsh glare.

落ち着いてください  Please calm down. (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, please calm down.

Ai Mikaze: I am calm. The one who isn’t calm is over there.

The actor glares at Mikaze-senpai with a piercing look.

Ai Mikaze: If you don’t like me, that’s fine. You can hate me all you want. I won’t even question the reason.

However, nothing good comes out of you ruining the mood on set for such a petty reason.

This goes for anybody, no matter what the age. We’re both working towards the same goal on the same set, so we should be civil with each other.

If you can’t even do basic things like that, you’ll only be disposed of in this already strict industry.

Mikaze-senpai declares indifferently to the trembling actor.

Talent A: Ugh—!! How dare you!

The actor raises the paper cup he has in his hand.

Haruka Nanami: Please stop—!

Thinking he’ll throw it at Mikaze-senpai, I jump in front of him.

I get covered in spilled coffee.

Ai Mikaze: ... Wha—! Haruka!?

As Senpai’s eyes widen, the director rushes to where we are.

Director: Hey—!? What are you guys doing!

The other actor turns on his heel and runs off the shooting location.

The coffee that spilled on my chest has cooled down now. Only my clothes and scarf were stained...

... Regardless of that, it seems like I caused everyone here to fret.

The news starts spreading from the director to the supervisor and even reaches the heroine’s actress.

Ai Mikaze: Actually, he wasn’t throwing it with the intent to hit me. He was just venting his frustration. You could clearly tell by looking at his motion and the trajectory​ of the throw.

Haruka Nanami: I see...

Senpai splashes water as he washes my scarf under the water faucet in the park.

The white scarf I was wearing around my neck was stained the most by the coffee.

Ai Mikaze: That’s what happens when you don’t think of the consequences before rushing in... Aah, this thing is already looking like a panda.

He sighs as he holds the scarf with a stain that looks distinctively like the face of a panda.

I feel terribly sorry for doing something unnecessary and making the problem worse.

Staff A: Mikaze-san! It’s been decided that today’s shooting will be postponed.

Ai Mikaze: I... see... I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble I caused.

Senpai says while lowering his head at the staff member who called from afar.

Staff A: No, it was unfortunate for you too, right? He has been getting less jobs lately which might have caused him to panic.

But now he might reflect on what he’s done, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do it again in the future. You should be careful.

We lower our heads.

Staff A: We’ll contact you again with details on the date of the rescheduled shooting and who will fill in the missing role. For now, we’re packing up.

After thanking us for our hard work, the staff member goes his way.

Ai Mikaze: Sigh... In the end it got postponed, huh? I thought if he would admonish me, he would at least do so when nobody’s around. This isn’t working out very well.

His shoulders sink as he hands me my scarf.

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry. Back then I thought that it might turn into a fight... so I... ended up stepping in.

Ai Mikaze: Perhaps I was also being too frank. As expected, emotions really are complicated.

He stands up with a bitter smile.

Haruka Nanami: Uhm, Senpai! You were truly amazing!

Ai Mikaze: What?

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, you were able to scold him so calmly. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do so in that situation. As expected, Senpai is strong and amazing.

Ai Mikaze: You think so? But weren’t you amazing as well? ... Thank you for covering me.

When it was time to head home, the day had fully come to its end.

This park, located close to the sea, is a popular destination and there are still many people walking around.

Surrounded by an aquarium and the big park, there is a giant Ferris wheel, sparkling with bright lights.

Haruka Nanami: Wow, there are already Christmas lights up!

Ai Mikaze: Each year when this time comes around, there’s a big fuss because of Christmas. What’s everyone so excited about?

Senpai asks me while idly looking up at the lights.

Haruka Nanami: You’re right. We have deviated quite far from the original meaning of Christmas, but... maybe they’re just simply enjoying the atmosphere?

He replies with a simple “Hm” and doesn't seem to care.

Haruka Nanami: In Japan, it’s a day you spend with people important to you. Be it with your family or going on a date as a couple.

I look up and before me stands the Ferris wheel.

I guess if I were on a date, I would take a ride on that and view the night scenery...

Ai Mikaze: You want to take a ride?

Haruka Nanami: Huh!?

Turning around, I see Mikaze-senpai peering into my face.

Ai Mikaze: The Ferris wheel. You keep looking at it in a daze.

Haruka Nanami: T-that is...

Select the phrase!

乗りたいです  I want to ride it. (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I want to take a ride. If we look from up there, we might be able to have a grand view of the surrounding neighborhood.

Mikaze-senpai lifts his face as well and looks up at the Ferris wheel.

Ai Mikaze: True, I am interested in the scenery from up there. It sure is high. About 150 meters in diameter?

Haruka Nanami: You sure know it well.

Ai Mikaze: I’m just eyeballing it. Since we already came here, let’s ride it and make sure of the view together.

He says and suddenly pulls me by my arm.

いいえ……  No... (+0 Love)

After what happened earlier, it really might not be the time to ride a Ferris wheel.

After I mumble, Mikaze-senpai beside me also looks up at the Ferris wheel.

先輩は？  What about Senpai? (+10 Love)

Ai Mikaze: Me? I... I kind of want to give it a ride.

He only mutters these few words.

Ai Mikaze: Hmm, we don’t have much time but we might be able to ride it once. The Ferris wheel’s hours of operation goes on till 9 PM. It just turned 8 PM...

This Ferris wheel is 150 meters in diameter. It’s rotation speed is 0.30 meters per second, which means that one turn takes about thirty minutes. Well, we should manage.

Haruka Nanami: R-right... You calculate really fast.

Ai Mikaze: So? Want to give it a ride?

I’m about to agree to Senpai’s question, when—

Child A: Ai-chan!

Haruka Nanami: Eh!?

Looking down, a child around kindergarten age is pointing a finger straight at Mikaze-senpai.

By the time I’ve noticed, it is already too late.

Man A: Hey, isn’t that Ai Mikaze? Whoa, so rare!

Woman A: The actual one!? Such a beauty... What is this, a photo shoot?

That’s right. Mikaze-senpai is an active and popular idol.

Child A: Mama! Ai-chan is here! Ai-chan! Ai-chan!

The child jumps up and down in joy, which leads to everybody in the area becoming noisy.

Mikaze-senpai is so amazing that even small children know of him, but now is not the time to be admiring him for that.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, sorry. Today, Ai-chan is...

In the meanwhile, the information that Ai Mikaze is here is spreading among people and the fuss is gradually becoming bigger.

Man B: Is he taking his girlfriend out? Should we take a picture?

Without mercy, cameras are facing us.

Ai Mikaze: Haa... I was careless... Let’s run and retreat over there, where there are less people.

Pointing at the path that follows the edge of the park, he pushes my back with a pat.

Haruka Nanami: O-okay!

Then Senpai bends down and slightly waves at the child.

Ai Mikaze: See you, bye-bye. Next time, we’ll meet on TV.

Child A: Bye-byeee!

We run as fast as we can. We run and slip through the crowd.

When I look up, the Ferris wheel is right in front of us.

We jump upon the ferris wheel without the attendant noticing.

I hear the click of the lock closing as our passenger car gently floats into the air.

The gondola is slowly rising up to the sky.

Haruka Nanami: So we got to ride it after all.

Looking out from the gondola, not only can you see the illuminations of the park but also the lights of the city on the other side of the sea.

No one would chase after us in such a high place.

We’re sitting next to each other, facing out of the window.

Haruka Nanami: Beyond that mountain is where our agency is, and over there is where we were just a moment ago.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, interesting. It’s like looking at a map. We can see the path we took to escape. Ah, what’s that building?

Haruka Nanami: That’s an aquarium.

Senpai makes a face as if he doesn’t understand.

Haruka Nanami: It’s a place full of fish and creatures from the sea! If we had the time, we could’ve gone to see it...

I look to the side. Mikaze-senpai’s pupils are glittering and bright as he watches the night scenery.

Ai Mikaze: Even though the sea is right there? What a weird place.

What an odd person...

Knowing everything like an adult and knowing nothing like a child. Such duality.

Long eyelashes, shiny skin... such well-ordered and androgynous features.

Ai Mikaze: Why are you peering so closely at someone else’s face?

Mikaze-senpai, who notices my glance, asks suspiciously.

Haruka Nanami: Uh... well...

Select the phrase!

お肌がきれいだなって  You have beautiful skin. (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s so glossy. It makes me want to get your advice on daily skincare.

Ai Mikaze: Glossy... I never paid attention. That aside, that’s a rather bold observation, isn’t it?

He pokes his cheek with his index finger.

I’m about to gush over his adorable gesture when Senpai makes a sullen face...

He pokes my cheek with his index finger.

I... I’m being played with!

面白いなって   I just thought it was interesting. (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I just thought it’s interesting how your expression when you’re on the Ferris wheel is different from when you’re working.

Ai Mikaze: Your facial expression changes far more than mine does. I think that is much more interesting.

He answers, gazing at me through the window's reflection.

Haruka Nanami: Is that so? Thank you... very much...

Feeling startled, I look down, to which Senpai murmurs “See?”

楽しそうだなって  You look like you are having fun. (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: You looked like you were having fun while looking outside.

Ai Mikaze: Having fun? I just thought the difference between the scenery we see up here and the one from the ground is quite interesting... Does that mean I’m having fun?

Hm? It seems like he’s pondering about something complicated...

Ai Mikaze: Are you having fun? Is it not boring to ride the Ferris wheel with me?

Haruka Nanami: That’s totally out of the question! It’s fun!

Senpai looks relieved after he hears my response.

Haruka Nanami: Uwaah!?

With a loud noise, the Ferris wheel abruptly halts and the lights of the passenger car shut off.

I fall forward from the momentum, but Senpai supports my body.

Haruka Nanami: A blackout...?

Ai Mikaze: No, it’s park closing time.

Mikaze-senpai mumbles as he looks at his wristwatch.

Ai Mikaze: We lost fifteen minutes due to running away, which means...

It takes thirty minutes for a Ferris wheel that’s 150 meters in diameter to turn once, and we lost fifteen minutes. In other words...

Ai Mikaze: We are now 150 meters above the ground. So that means exactly at the top.

As Mikaze-senpai says this, he looks down through the window at the ground.

We jumped on behind the attendants’ back, so no one will know we’re here.

My cell phone shows no signal.

There is an emergency bell in the passenger car which is connected to an operating room, but nobody responds.

Haruka Nanami: What should we do...?

Ai Mikaze: There’s nothing we can do. Once it becomes morning someone should come. We can only take it easy here until then, right?

Senpai has a good stretch and looks outside once again.

A strong wind blows and the Ferris wheel shakes.

The electricity vanished which means that the heating also stopped. The temperature in the passenger car starts to gradually cool down.

Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes... As time passes, the cold becomes more present.

Will we be able to get out of here if we wait one night like Senpai says?

I try to calm down, but my body starts shivering and shaking because of the cold.

Seeing me like that, Mikaze-senpai stands up and takes the seat next to me.

Ai Mikaze: Are you cold?

I nod.

Ai Mikaze: That’s troubling, a miscalculation. There are no problems for me at all, but you are weak to the cold.

I hear his voice close to my ear and before I know it, I am being hugged by Mikaze-senpai from behind.

Haruka Nanami: ... Senpai!? Wh-what are you doing...?

Ai Mikaze: I mean, this is the only way, right? ... Is it warm?

Warmth reaches me.

Right now the feeling of relief from the warmth is greater than my embarrassment.

Haruka Nanami: Yes... I am... fine...

I relax my body and entrust myself to his warmth.

Ai Mikaze: It’s snow.

He lifts one hand to the sky while his other arm holds me.

His hand makes a slight thud on the window.

When I look up, I see soft white snowflakes falling from the sky one after another.

Haruka Nanami: Beautiful...

Snow silently falls from the wide sky onto this world with only the two of us.

Ai Mikaze: Yep, it’s beautiful.

We watch the sky together.

The snow continues and the edges of the windows of the Ferris wheel become slightly white.

Suddenly, I feel weight​ on top of my shoulder.

Ai Mikaze: I wonder. When I am with you, I feel uneasy... It becomes a weird feeling.

He speaks close to my ear.

Ai Mikaze: My body becomes hot and my head becomes blank. I wonder... what this is...

Senpai hugs me tight.

Mikaze-senpai’s body temperature rises gradually.

Haruka Nanami: ... Senpai?

Something is weird. I shift my attention to my shoulder.

Ai Mikaze: Hah... hah... nh... sorry...

The amount of heat that is emitting from his body is rapidly rising.

Ai Mikaze: ... Hah, I see... Trying to understand emotions is overloading me...

Senpai’s arms slip and drop down.

Haruka Nanami: Senpai!?

Senpai is breathing roughly and collapses on the spot.

Is he ill? Is it a seizure? I fall into panic.

Haruka Nanami: Senpai! Senpai!! I have to call someone for help or...

Ai Mikaze: Haa... ha... It’s fine. I’d predicted this. I should have processed it slower... but it happened so rapidly...

Haruka Nanami: Rapidly? Senpai, just what are you saying...?

Ai Mikaze: At this point even if I tried to hide it, it would only have been a question of time. Actually... I didn’t want you to find out but...

Mikaze-senpai puts his hand on his neck. With a snap it makes the sound of a spark.

When he removes his hand, at his nape I see metal fixtures​ and lots of cords.

Haruka Nanami: ...!!

Ai Mikaze: I’m not human. I’m a robot.

Haruka Nanami: A robot...?

Ai Mikaze: Official name is “SongRobo.” A being created by an experiment for Shining who wanted to see if an artificial idol could be made.

Haruka Nanami: What...?

Ai Mikaze: You’ve never heard of it before, right? This is also a top-secret topic in the agency. Including you, there are only three people who know of it.

Right now, I have set studying emotions as my goal. But... this was too sudden...

I couldn’t catch up with the processing and now I’ve ended up overheating. It’s nothing like an illness so I’m fine.

Actually... it might be more convenient like this. Because when there is an abnormal performance in me, an automatic notification will be sent out instantly.

Senpai hugs me once again.

Ai Mikaze: I’m sorry for surprising you. I’m sorry for hiding it the whole time. But please... don’t be afraid of me...

Haruka Nanami: I don’t... understand... what you mean by “robot”...

As I tremble, Senpai hugs me tightly once again.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll protect you.

His soft and soothing voice hums next to my ear.

Ai Mikaze: ... You are... a being much weaker than me. I have to protect you. I can’t... collapse again...

Mikaze-senpai’s words are weakly breaking off. But still, he hugs my body tightly.

Ai Mikaze: Even if I break, I can get fixed again...

Senpai’s words become distant.

I tightly hold on to Senpai’s back.

Maybe because of fatigue and mental strain, my consciousness becomes distant and I fall into a deep slumber...

As I open my eyes, I see a white ceiling.

This place is...

The moment I lift my upper body, I hear the door open.

The Professor: Yo, are you awake?

A man wearing white clothes and glasses greets me with a smile.

The Professor:

Haruka Nanami: -san. You are a composer from the Shining Agency, right? I heard from Ai.

Haruka Nanami: ... And you are?

The Professor: I’m... something like Ai’s guardian. I’m an instructor at Saotome Academy’s affiliated university. Please feel free to just call me “Professor”.

The professor offers his right hand.

When I timidly return his grasp, he starts his explanation.

The Professor: I’ll say it straight. I’m the person who created Ai. You already heard that he’s a robot, right?

So it wasn’t a dream after all...

I remain quiet and nod.

The Professor: This knowledge is top secret so make sure to never talk about it, ‘kay?

If you do, they’ll make you serve shaved ice to polar bears for all your life at Shining Agency’s arctic branch—I’m just joking but...

... if it does come to it, you’ll have to take the penalty, so be prepared.

Haruka Nanami: Erm... What do you mean Mikaze-senpai is a robot...?

The Professor: You see, as a hobby I once did research regarding the human heart. But that reached its limit because of financing.

But Shiny heard of that research and got interested in it. So he wondered if it was possible to make a SongRobo.

Haruka Nanami: Song... Robo...?

The Professor: It seems like Shiny wondered if it was possible to create an idol artificially. But idols need hearts. That’s when he reached out to me.

I thought it was interesting, so I used my nephew as a model and created a robot.

That was Ai’s prototype. After that, we went through ups and downs until he became mostly like a human...

As a test, we had him make songs and sold them online, but they did better than expected... Afterwards, it continued as you know.

Haruka Nanami: Um... I got it.

The Professor: It sounds really absurd, so getting confused is only natural. Nevertheless this is the unmistakable truth.

The professor says and smiles bitterly.

From there on, the professor explains more about Mikaze-senpai in detail.

Mikaze-senpai’s real form is a supercomputer in the basement of the lab. Mikaze-senpai himself manages the computer terminal.

Equipped with artificial intelligence, he is capable of the human-like ability of categorizing things as “neither black nor white.”

If there’s an error in his system, the lab gets a notice immediately.

Whenever he’s discovered to be a robot, the system strains itself in an attempt to maintain his secret.

That’s the biggest reason why he tries to keep the fact that he’s a robot hidden.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Mikaze-senpai!

Ai Mikaze: Did you finally wake up? Just how long did you intend to sleep?

Haruka Nanami: Ah! I’m sorry...

The Professor: Ahaha! Don’t be bashful. This is the woman that you risked your body to save, right?

Ai Mikaze: Don’t phrase it weirdly like that. It’s no big deal if I get damaged... I just have to get repaired...

Haruka Nanami: You... saved me?

The Professor: Even though it was in the city area, it’s still December. A night in midwinter. In addition, snow was even falling. Try staying in a place like that and see what happens.

Until we reached the emergency signal’s spot, Ai was holding you while keeping a state of high temperature.

Haruka Nanami: After what happened, for the entire time?

Ai Mikaze: Otherwise the temperature would have fallen...

For a short while, I turned off my interior body cooling system and raised the temperature to its limit. Once it fell... I repeated the process and raised it again.

The Professor: He doesn’t make it sound that serious but he got fried here and there. Just a bit more and his memory would have been lost.

The professor says and gives a bitter smile.

Mikaze-senpai went that far to save me.

Haruka Nanami: So... that happened... Senpai, thank you very much.

Ai Mikaze: Not really... It’s just natural.

I lower my head and Senpai suddenly averts his gaze.

Haruka Nanami: Uhm, this is?

The Professor: A laboratory, aka my lab. I mostly do Ai’s maintenance here. Sorry for the mess.

Scattered around me are documents, books and a lot of other things.

Ai Mikaze: It’ll soon be noon. Shouldn’t you go back to the dormitory?

Haruka Nanami: Yes, and I’m sorry. I seemed to have caused you a lot of trouble...

I try to stand up from the bed but I’m still a bit dizzy after all.

Ai Mikaze: Geez, are you okay?

Mikaze-senpai instantly offers me his hand and supports me.

As I am standing up, the professor eyes Mikaze-senpai with a very interested look.

Haruka Nanami: Excuse me... is something wrong...?

The Professor: No, I just thought that it’s really rare for you to help someone like that, Ai...

He looks at Mikaze-senpai, who then averts his eyes with displeasure.

The Professor: You did improve greatly through the Master Course. After all, you are a robot who didn’t hold any emotions in the beginning.

That’s why it was basically impossible for you to worry about someone or act for someone without being ordered to.

Thinking about it that way, the fact that you tried to save her yesterday—even if it would have broken you—is an extremely irregular situation.

During his explanation, Senpai kept averting his gaze uncomfortably.

The Professor: Not that I think that this was the reason you overheated in the first place.

Ai Mikaze: Hah... Professor, it’s time to zip it. You are noisy.

The Professor: ... As you can see, he won’t even talk with me. That’s not good. Is this his rebellious phase?

They really seem like parent and child.

The Professor: I’ve one wish though. Can you stay as Ai’s partner from now on?

The professor slaps Mikaze-senpai’s shoulder as he says that.

Select the phrase!

そうするつもりでいましたが……  That was my intention but... (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Why are you asking me again? Of course I intend to stay Mikaze-senpai’s partner from now on as well, but...

Ai Mikaze: But that way, I’ll become a detriment to you.

Mikaze-senpai mumbles quietly.

もちろんです！　Of course! (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Of course! I never thought about pairing up with another person to begin with!

I reply louder than expected but Mikaze-senpai smiles.

Ai Mikaze: Thank you. But... I think it would be better if you paired up with someone else.

美風先輩さえよければ……  If Mikaze-senpai doesn’t mind... (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: If it’s fine with you, Mikaze-senpai, then of course I will...

Ai Mikaze: I too want to pair up with you. But...

Mikaze-senpai is biting his lip broken-heartedly as he says that.

Ai Mikaze: You... praise my voice highly and I’m very grateful for that.

But singing is an expression of emotions. As a robot who doesn’t have emotions, I will become a liability.

In that sense, my singing will forever be imperfect. If you partner up with me, you will end up having to carry this burden with me.

An incomplete self won’t be adequate as your partner. Don’t you think so?

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, was that... why you refused to partner up with me from the beginning...?

Ai Mikaze: It was I who wasn’t suitable for you to begin with. But since you showed no sign of listening to me, I partnered up with you.

But now... if I stay as your partner, I’ll only hold you back from being able to debut.

Things keep piling up one after another, and the inside of my head feels like chaos.

Mikaze-senpai is a robot and originally someone who never held any emotions.

An incomplete being.

For that reason, he says it would be better to cancel our partnership.

Select the phrase!

嫌です  I don’t want that. (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I don’t want that.

I say clearly.

解消した方がいいのかも  It might be better to cancel it. (+0 Love)

It’s like Senpai said. It would be better to cancel our partnership but...

“Incomplete...” That word is stuck in my heart.

不完全なんかじゃない  You are not incomplete. (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Incomplete...? That's not true!

I shout at Senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Even if you’re a robot and different from a human, you still have kindness. And I can feel that clearly.

Ai Mikaze: You can’t be sure if the actions you thought were kind were caused by actual emotions of kindness.

I shake my head.

Haruka Nanami: ... You probably just didn’t notice.

Thinking about the time when he nursed me during my cold or when he kept protecting me on the Ferris wheel filled me with pleasant feelings about Senpai's kindness.

The Professor: Well, well, this has gotten complicated. Look, if you overthink it too much you’ll get fried again.

Ai Mikaze: Hold on! ... We’re having a serious conversation here right now!

Without a care, the professor starts talking.

The Professor: Ai has been studying emotions since he started the Master Course, but the speed accelerated after he met you.

Maybe it could be possible for him to actually achieve free emotions.

Haruka Nanami: Free...?

The Professor: That is a gamble for me, for you and for Ai but... I wanna try betting on this possibility.

Afterwards, I bid the professor farewell and leave the lab behind.

As I am leaving, the professor hands me Mikaze-senpai’s massive manual.

It says things like that he’s waterproof but doesn’t like water.

As a robot, meals are not necessary. Rather, when he eats solids, energy is needed to decompose them.

There are also details written about Mikaze-senpai’s functions. A lot makes sense now.

The last thing written in the manual is the professor’s contact information in case something happens.

Haruka Nanami: Haah...

Looking at this really makes me realize that Mikaze-senpai is in fact a robot.

But when I speak to Mikaze-senpai normally, I can’t think of him as anything other than a human.

I have absolutely no intention of breaking off our partnership because of him being a robot.

As I said so while leaving, Mikaze-senpai told me that he needed to think about it a bit.

He said that I should take the unit song with me to the studio in four days so he can check it. He then returned to the lab.

He told me that the places that short-circuited while protecting me were not fixed yet.

I don’t know what will happen after the Christmas Live, but for now, I should clear the mark right in front of me.

My goal is to complete the unit song in four days, so I become absorbed in composing.

Four days later.

As Mikaze-senpai told me, I bring the unit’s song audio and visit the agency.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey, what the hell’s the meaning of this?

Huh? Before I enter the room... I feel like I hear their voices...

Ai Mikaze: They’re lyrics, obviously.

Camus: What do you take me for, you idiot! I would never say such authoritative things!

I have a bad feeling about this.

I quickly enter the room.

Haruka Nanami: Pardon... Is something the matter? I could hear you even in the corridor...

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah, Kohai-chan! Look at this!!

Kotobuki-senpai waves the musical score that was just on the table.

I see that the full lyrics are on the musical score.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, could it be that you all added the lyrics to it?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: That’s not it. That guy just wrote all of the lyrics on his own!

Kurosaki-senpai looks annoyed as he points to Mikaze-senpai.

Camus: On top of that, didn’t he also say something about how he went ahead and wrote things that we would most likely say?

He wrote the lyrics before everybody else? Why did he do that?

Haruka Nanami: Uhm... May I take a look?

I receive the score from Kotobuki-senpai. Some words catch my eye.

“A rocking brilliant. Surely, I want you baby.”

Haruka Nanami: I see.

Select the phrase!

特徴を掴んでます　 It captured the characteristics. (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Indeed those are things you all would say... at least that’s how it feels. It has the right characteristics.

Ai Mikaze: Right? That’s because everyone is simple. Once you can read the pattern it’s easy.

Reiji Kotobuki: Simple you say?? That’s harsh, Ai-Ai! Only Ranran is!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey, don’t drag me into this!

Together, they glare at Mikaze-senpai.

みなさんのご意見も訊いてみては？　 May I inquire about everyone’s opinion? (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Uhm, just in case, I think it would be better to inquire about everyone’s opinion regarding the lyrics... You are a unit after all.

Kotobuki-senpai nods in agreement.

Ai Mikaze: You might be right... I made them based on everyone’s past lyrics’ tendencies, so I thought I did a comparatively​ good replication.

Maybe my selected data was old?

Mikaze-senpai looks at the score and tilts his head.

素敵です　 It’s wonderful. (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much, Mikaze-senpai! These are indeed song lyrics. They are wonderful.

Ai Mikaze: Really? Well, it’s not a big deal for me.

Camus: “Wonderful...?” This foolishness!!

Reiji Kotobuki: I got it! Kohai-chan is surely the type that nurtures others through praise! Hey, that’s how it is, right!?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Argh! This woman... This is pointless.

The other senpai don’t seem convinced...

We have to discuss this at once.

Afterwards the four start talking right away.

“I won’t sing this.”, “There is nothing wrong with the lyrics thus there is no problem.”, “There’s not enough charm.” etc, etc...

Ah... how should I put it, it’s as always.

It seems like all the things we established merely four days ago were a lie.

Mikaze-senpai hits the table with a thud.

Ai Mikaze: I got it. Just rewrite it to your liking! That way it’ll be sufficient, right?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yer snapping back now?! Geez, what a pain.

Haruka Nanami: P-please wait!

They look like they’ll start a fight so I quickly step in.

Haruka Nanami: So, it was really nice of you to write the lyrics for them, but why did you do it all by yourself?

Ai Mikaze: By analyzing past lyrics, I categorized the vocabularies and patterns and wrote lyrics that they would probably write themselves.

Isn’t that equivalent to them writing it themselves?

Mikaze-senpai declares sternly.

Haruka Nanami: Uhm... I wonder if you accomplished that...

In the conference room, which has fallen still, the senpai are looking at the score.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Or rather, just because ya pile up some words like that it doesn’t mean it’s good. Somehow... I can’t feel any soul in it!

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh, well said~ Since all four of us will sing this, let’s put our souls into the lyrics as well!

Ai Mikaze: ... Soul?

Reiji Kotobuki: But I’m happy that Ai-Ai tried to understand us in his own way. Now that we’re doing it, let’s work together!

Ai Mikaze: I wasn’t really trying to understand you... It’s more like optimization​...

Reiji Kotobuki: Leave it up to your reliable team members! First let’s assign everyone’s parts!

Kotobuki-senpai takes the initiative and starts to unify the group.

Haruka Nanami: Ah! I have a copy of the score!

After Mikaze-senpai watches them for a while, he mutters a single thing.

Ai Mikaze: ... It... would be good to have cool lyrics...

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Ah? Duh, that’s obvious. Otherwise I wouldn’t sing it. Since we’re doing this, we won’t do it half-heartedly. Got it?

Ai Mikaze: ... Got it. Let’s fix it. The previous lyrics are deleted! This time let’s rewrite it together!

Mikaze-senpai declares.

From then on, everyone has been thinking about the lyrics.

Ai Mikaze: If you are stuck, I can write it for you.

Mikaze-senpai’s hand reaches out next to Camus-senpai who is lost in thought and takes the liberty to add some lyrics.

Camus-senpai’s expression hardens.

Camus: How can this be? How are you seeing through my behavioral pattern!?

Ai Mikaze: I already mentioned that I studied you thoroughly. You were especially difficult, Camus. Out of you three, you’re the most educated.

Camus-senpai goes silent with a “Mh...”

Ai Mikaze: Listen, about this part where we all sing together, I think English would be good. What do you think?

Mikaze-senpai points at the unison part.

After a moment of consideration, Camus-senpai takes hold of the pen again.

Camus: ... Fine, I’ll do it...

Quickly and swiftly, he writes a few phrases and hands them to Mikaze-senpai.

Mikaze-senpai... Could it be that he’s also acknowledging Camus-senpai in some way?

Ai Mikaze: Well then, I should write as well.

Haruka Nanami: Then I’ll brew some coffee for you all.

Mikaze-senpai leaves it to me with a hand wave.

At first I was worried about what would happen, but now they’ve become so serious while writing the lyrics.

I’m delighted.

Some hours later.

Haruka Nanami: Good work, everyone!

Reiji Kotobuki: Yea~h, sexy plus dangerous! We really made some great lyrics!

Ai Mikaze: Let’s try singing it. Can you play the song?

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

After Mikaze-senpai calls out to me, we immediately head to the booth with the other senpai.

Now that I think about it, this is the first time these four will sing together. A bit nervous, I play the song.

Ai Mikaze: Heh~ Not bad. We all did well... I think.

Mikaze-senpai says so and nods.

Seems like he is pleased by it!

The expressions of the senpai are bright as they come out of the booth.

Ai Mikaze: So how is the song?

Camus: I don’t have a problem with singing this.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well, guess it’s okay. Let’s be careful and not slack off towards the end.

Reiji Kotobuki: Everyone’s in a good mood! That’s what I call a success, no mistake! Peace!

Everyone talks after returning from the booth.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, thank you very much!

I’m glad... I got approved by the senpai!

With that, the song is almost done and it even has lyrics!

We’ll be able to participate in the Christmas Live!

Haruka Nanami: Uhm... Mikaze-senpai, about the lyrics, thank you very much. And for gathering the others.

Ai Mikaze: It was nothing much. I just worried that you might not make it in time because you were taking things at such a leisurely pace.

Haruka Nanami: I-I am sorry...

Ai Mikaze: We’re singing as a unit so I thought it’d be better to confirm things with the others. My lyrics ended up being rewritten, though.

... Mikaze-senpai also fully realizes that it’s about the unit this time.

Haruka Nanami: Yes. Thank you very much!

Ai Mikaze: It should’ve become better from the work we’ve done. Well then, shall I do the final checks on the song?

And about the partnership thing...

Your experience and technique is incomplete and I’m incomplete as a human. As I thought, you can’t call that an ideal partner relationship.

Still, I want to stay this way as your partner; that’s how I feel. No matter how often I think about it, I can’t find a reason why I think this way.

I want to put my soul into this! I’ll use the feelings and what I’ve researched to sing to the best of my ability at the next live concert!

And you use all of your current strength to create the best song. Let’s smash our souls together on stage!

As Mikaze-senpai says so, he looks straight at me.

Mikaze-senpai...

Haruka Nanami: Understood! I’ll do my best!!

I nod with all my might.

Mikaze-senpai smiles with a grin and rolls up his sleeves.

Ai Mikaze: Now I’ll give you my feedback. Listen carefully.

Haruka Nanami: I will!!

Since that day, we’ve continued to adjust the composition and do song lessons repeatedly as we aim for the live show.

The other senpai have also made good use of the spare moments​ in their busy schedules and participated in the lessons.

Before long, the date of the Christmas Live arrives.

It’s the day of the Christmas Live. After the rehearsal, I am waiting in the dressing room for the show to start.

Today’s Christmas Live is a concert in which only talented people from the Shining Agency will perform.

And furthermore, the unit song will be sung as its opening.

The senpai are calm, but I, on the other hand, am filled with nervousness and anxiety.

Haruka Nanami: Uuh... my stomach hurts...

Syo Kurusu: Yo, Nanami! How are you?

Natsuki Shinomiya: We came to cheer you on~!

As the door opens, there stands Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun with smiling faces.

Haruka Nanami: Syo-kun! Shinomiya-san! Thank you for coming all this way!!

Syo Kurusu: Of course. We’re interested in your song and also Ai’s performance.

Syo-kun says and smiles broadly.

Natsuki Shinomiya: That’s right. Also because the other senpai and a lot of talented people are here, I thought we would be able to learn from them so we came to take a look.

Haruka Nanami: That’s true. I’m happy! Please, come inside!

I invite the two of them into the dressing room.

Haruka Nanami: Here you are.

I brew tea and place it in front of the seated duo.

Syo Kurusu: Ah, thank you! Sorry for coming at a busy time, right before the performance.

Haruka Nanami: Not at all. My nervousness disappeared, you were right on time.

I say as I take a seat.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Thank you for the tea.

And then we sip our tea...

After the momentary silence, Syo-kun opens his mouth.

Syo Kurusu: Listen... Did you hear about his situation? That... thing about Ai being a robot.

Regardless of being inside the dressing room, Syo-kun still says that with a lowered voice.

Shinomiya-san’s appearance also doesn’t show any sign of surprise. He’s sipping his tea with a smiling face.

I look at the two of them, surprised.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—why do you know that!?

Syo Kurusu: The professor called us. He said it would be easier to keep Ai’s secret by sharing information between the people who already know.

Haruka Nanami: Is that so... Uhm, did you two know about Mikaze-senpai all this time?

Syo Kurusu: Yeah. To tell the truth, a lot happened during the Master Course. We also found out accidentally.

Shinomiya-san nods along with Syo-kun’s words.

Haruka Nanami: And when you heard that I paired up with Mikaze-senpai, it gave you all kinds of worries, right?

Natsuki Shinomiya: Right. We wanted to tell you, but the professor told us that we must keep it a secret...

Seemingly out of guilt, Shinomiya-san averts his eyes.

Syo Kurusu: Even though I thought that you might feel a bit more at ease with that personality and the way he talks if you’d known he was a robot.

Ai Mikaze: Hmm, my bad for this personality and the way I talk...

Haruka Nanami: M-Mikaze-senpai!!

As I hastily turn around, there is Mikaze-senpai looking fixedly at us.

Syo Kurusu: Ai!! At least knock, will you!?

Natsuki Shinomiya: Ah, Ai-chan!! Good morning. We came to cheer you on today!!

Next to me and Syo-kun, who are both in a panic, Shinomiya-san is greeting Mikaze-senpai with a smile.

Ai Mikaze: How about locking the door properly if you are bothered by being heard? And the door wasn’t even closed to begin with.

Maybe I didn’t close the door properly because I hurriedly invited those two inside.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry...

Ai Mikaze: I’m really worried about my future since the three of you already found out about my secret.

Mikaze-senpai lets out a big sigh and surveys us.

Syo Kurusu: I-it’s alright. We’ll definitely keep your secret! Right??

Natsuki Shinomiya: Y-yes! We won’t tell anyone!!

I nod my agreement next to them.

Ai Mikaze: ... Really, I am begging you. Don’t burden my system more than this.

Mikaze-senpai heaves a deep sigh.

Ai Mikaze: Well, anyway, I wanted to check something about the song real quick.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, of course!

I quickly grab the music sheet as Senpai starts to talk about the state of the rehearsal.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, the third stanza, right? I was also curious about that, so I changed it into a synthesizer melody.

And I also wanted to make it more brilliant as a whole, so I raised the guitar​’s volume.

Ai Mikaze: It’s better that way. Okay. Good work. Then, Natsuki and Syo too, thanks for coming today. Have fun.

As he says so, Mikaze-senpai leaves the dressing room.

The moment the door shuts, Shinomiya-san faces me with a bright smile.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Nanami-san! Fufu, you were really cool!

Haruka Nanami: Eh...? You think so?

Syo Kurusu: That Ai said “thank you”... A bad omen​ maybe...?

Syo-kun says and turns around to face me.

Syo Kurusu: You’re amazing to be able to talk back to him.

Haruka Nanami: Senpai was very strict when it came to the arrangement, so I got wary of a lot of things.

Syo Kurusu: Oh well, maybe we shouldn’t have been worried after all. You and Ai look like great partners!

Haruka Nanami: Is that so...? He still gets mad at me very often, you know...

Syo Kurusu: No way, Ai doesn’t give his okay that easily. Hehe, this might be good then.

Syo-kun smiles for some reason.

Natsuki Shinomiya: My~ I thought so from the beginning! That Ai-chan and you will make up for each other’s shortcomings and become good partners!

Shinomiya-san says and laughs lightly.

Haruka Nanami: If that’s the case then... I’m happy. Thank you very much!

I’m so happy at their words that I quickly bow my head.

Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun head for the guest seats while I head to the wing of the stage to see the senpai off.

As I stand there, I hear the guests buzzing.

I totally forgot while I was talking to those two, but hearing the voices of the audience reminds me that I’m nervous after all!

Ai Mikaze: Ah, you came... What’s up with that face?

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Mikaze-senpai... and the others too. I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m a bit nervous.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Nervous? Why the hell would ya be? It’s not like you’re gonna be singing.

Haruka Nanami: That’s true, but...

Camus: Hah! Cowardly lass! To begin with, why are you even worried when I already said I am going to sing?

Reiji Kotobuki: Myu-chan, that’s some amazing self-confidence~ That being said, it’s only natural to become nervous when the song you composed gets sung on such a big stage~

Ai Mikaze: ... It’s natural?

Mikaze-senpai asks curiously.

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh that’s right, Ai-Ai is always so composed. Are you never nervous?

Ai Mikaze: I understand the meaning of the word “nervousness.” However, I’ve never felt it.

Reiji Kotobuki: But when it comes to the showdown of a match, your beat skips a heart—I mean your heart skips a beat...

Ai Mikaze: Nervousness... The symptoms are a dry throat or sweating because of muscular contraction... You can see the rise of the pulse rate...

Mikaze-senpai mumbles while looking into the air.

Haruka Nanami: What is wrong?

Mikaze-senpai suddenly chops at Kotobuki-senpai with his hand.

Reiji Kotobuki: Wai—that’s dangerous!!

Kotobuki-senpai tries to avoid the hand that comes flying at him.

Ai Mikaze: Don’t move!

Reiji Kotobuki: Ehh!?

Mikaze-senpai’s hand stops exactly at Kotobuki-senpai’s neck.

Ai Mikaze: Ah, it’s true. Your pulse rate is high.

Reiji Kotobuki: ... You’re right. NO WAIT! What were you doing so suddenly! Gosh~ I thought you were aiming for the seat of the leader there for a second!

Camus: Kotobuki. Just when did you become our leader?

Ai Mikaze: It was simply some sample collecting. I see, so that is the pulse rate at times of nervousness.

Reiji Kotobuki: No, I got really surprised right now! My pulse just raised momentarily, alright!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Ahh! You’re so freaking loud before the performance! What’re ya, some brats before a field trip??

Kurosaki-senpai grabs Mikaze-senpai and Kotobuki-senpai by their necks and goes back to the stage.

Ai Mikaze: Wha—Ranmaru! What are you doing! The outfit will wrinkle! Stop this hooliganism!

Reiji Kotobuki: M-my neck... is getting strangled...!

Haruka Nanami: Um, er, everyone! It will soon be your turn so don’t push yourselves too hard!

Before I know it, my nervousness relaxes as I watch their exchange.

The time has come for the curtains to rise.

Haruka Nanami: Um, please do your best! Mikaze-senpai too.

I run up to Mikaze-senpai.

Ai Mikaze: Sure. I’ll be going. Umm... At times like these...

Mikaze-senpai is looking into the air once again.

Ai Mikaze: Alright... Well then everyone, let’s go! Shining Spirit! FIGHT! OHH!

As he says so, he raises his fist over his head.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: O-Ooh!?

Camus: A-all of a sudden?? Ooh!

Reiji Kotobuki: Ahaha! Nice! Oooh yay!!

The others who are getting caught up in​ the moment raise their firsts as well. With that momentum, they head for the stage.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll be on my way. I’ll be listening for your cheering!

Senpai runs off lightly towards the stage.

The stage slowly lights up.

And then, as the senpai enter the stage, the cheers erupt and resonate.

As expected, the senpai are truly popular after all...

The live begins, with heart-racing excitement already filling the air.

Kurosaki-senpai and Camus-senpai are singing at the center when Kotobuki-senpai suddenly barges in between them with a backflip.

During that interval, Mikaze-senpai shows off an ad-libbed solo dance. The stage’s excitement reaches its climax.

They are all, without a doubt, pros. They’re able to make decisions in a snap.

The combination of all four singing together, including the choreography, is flawless.

He said that he’d put his spirit into it, so Mikaze-senpai sings in a way where he is aware of all the emotions in the song.

Sometimes gentle, other times sensual...

Seeing those facial expressions of his for the first time makes my heart beat fast from beginning to end.

The Christmas Live finishes up as a big success and the curtain falls on the stage.

After the performance ended, I am helping out with cleaning up the wing when—

Shining Saotome: Oh! Miss Nanami. I found YO!

Ringo Tsukimiya: Haru-chan, good work!

The two of them enter the wing.

I wonder what the president’s judgement will be. I stare at the president’s face and my heart is racing.

Shining Saotome: Since YOU entered the Agency one and a half years ago, you didn’t manage to debut. Frankly, ME wanted to discharge YOU already!

BUT, I believed YOU still had the enthusiasm and willpower from your graduation audition even though you were alone!

ME wanted to check if YOU still have those feelings within you or not!

Haruka Nanami: President...

Shining Saotome: And now, YOU have made a pair with the strict Mister Mikaze and created a song acknowledged by all four unit members within three months.

And finally, from today’s stage, one could feel YOUR enthusiasm and sincerity as well as your LOVE for music!

Haruka Nanami: L-love?

In surprise, I lift my face.

Shining Saotome: BUT, in order to survive in this world, you must still overcome some difficult trials!!

What’s more, YOU must leave the Song Festival victorious or you can’t even stand on the startline!

BUT, if your love for music is there, YOU can overcome any difficulty!! Give it ya besht!!

Haruka Nanami: In other words...

Shining Saotome: Yes! YOU cleared the very first stage! YOU passed!

The president forms a big circle with his hands.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Isn’t that great, Haru-chan~ That was a really good song! I am expecting the same for the Song Festival!

Haruka Nanami: Yes! Thank you very much!

Natsuki Shinomiya: Wow! Congratulations! This is another step forward!

Syo Kurusu: The audience was also extremely fired up!! That wasn’t half bad!!

Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun, who are returning from the audience seats, rush over to me.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much!

And at last, the senpai, who are done changing clothes, also come over.

Reiji Kotobuki: We’re back~ And? Did you see it? My big jump!

Camus: Kurosaki! You’re making your hair stick up too much! My face probably got cut out!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Right back at ya! That troublesome hair of yours is only getting in the way! When you move, it gets into my field of vision! It’s distracting! One day, I’ll definitely shave it off!

Camus: Hah! That goes for you too! I shall blow off that fuzzy dandelion head of yours, so you’d best be prepared!

Ai Mikaze: Really, how long are you going to continue this? So childish...

It seems like a lot happened...

Haruka Nanami: Um... thank you very much, everyone!

The president, who gave me a chance. Ringo-sensei, who watched over me. Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun, who came to cheer me on.

The staff members of the live performance. The audience that got fired up. The senpai, and finally... Mikaze-senpai.

Filled with gratitude for them all, I lower my head.

Ai Mikaze: Right, it was a good performance. Well done.

As Mikaze-senpai says so, smiles spread over everyone’s faces.

We clean up and once the backstage closing party finishes, each of the senpai says that they have business to attend to and go back.

Mikaze-senpai and I also leave.

It’s Christmas and the roads are filled with couples and families coming and going.

They’re all linking their arms or joining hands. Even though it’s cold, they look warm...

Amidst them, I’m chasing after Mikaze-senpai’s back as he walks quickly in front of me.

Since coming out of the meeting place, we have been walking for around fifteen minutes.

Even though I came to join him because he invited me...

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, where will we be going?

Ai Mikaze: Hm...? I didn’t really plan on going anywhere specific...

He makes a blank face.

Haruka Nanami: Eh!? We’ve been walking around without a goal!? I was sure you wanted to go somewhere...

Ai Mikaze: You only told me that Christmas is a day that you spend with an important person... You didn’t say what else to do aside from that.

I’m really feeling the difficulty​ of teaching things properly.

I wonder if he intends to accomplish his “Spending the Day Together Mission” like this until the date changes...

Ai Mikaze: Then at least let’s do this to fit in with our surroundings...

He gently grasps my hand.

Haruka Nanami: Eh!? But... Um, if someone sees us again...

Ai Mikaze: There is no problem. Because no one seems to be paying attention to other people today.

He casually swings our gripped hands, taking light steps.

Ai Mikaze: Ah, this is somewhat “fun.”

Rather than like a couple, the way we’re holding hands is more like taking a child along or like how siblings hold hands.

Haruka Nanami: W-well, I feel embarrassed!

Senpai smiles slightly at my red face.

Ai Mikaze: Speaking of “fun,” while singing on stage earlier, I felt “fun” for the first time!

Haruka Nanami: On stage? You mean the Christmas Live?

Ai Mikaze: Yes... Your existence and your song taught that to me.

I want to teach you. I want to learn more from you. I’ll teach you music, and you’ll teach me about emotions.

If we complement each other that way, then staying as partners wouldn’t be bad at all. That’s what I think... How about it?

The pace slows down. I can’t see Mikaze-senpai’s facial expression as he speaks because his head is slightly tilted down, but...

... the strength in the grip of his hand as he says those words tells me his feelings.

Haruka Nanami: I also had fun! Moreover, your singing made me happy, too.

Ai Mikaze: Thank you. Can you stay as my partner from now on as well?

Haruka Nanami: Yes, of course!

As I lower my head, I feel something soft and warm around my neck.

Haruka Nanami: Mikaze-senpai’s scarf?

When I lift my head in surprise, Mikaze-senpai turns his face away in a shy manner.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll give you this.

Haruka Nanami: T... Thank you very much! Is this a Christmas present? Ah, but... I did not prepare any—

As I am about to say something, I feel something cold on my cheek.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, it’s snowing again...

When we look up, white crystals fall from the cold night sky.

Mikaze-senpai extends his hand and one of them lands gently on his palm.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll make this your present to me.

Eventually the snow in his palm melts away, but the white crystals are falling and piling up one after another.

For some reason, the image of Mikaze-senpai looking up at the sky feels incredibly ephemeral.

Ai Mikaze: We should return soon. If you were to catch a cold, I’d end up in the plight of making udon for you again.

He says and firmly pulls my hand.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much, Senpai!

Ai Mikaze: It’s nothing... I just got it on my way home. Don’t be so absent-minded, let’s go!

Haruka Nanami: Alright!

In the midst of the pure white snow, we begin walking, hands joined, and head to the next stage.

(Chapter End)

[injestedsoap]

Graves Likes Soap

Chapter four is up on ao3!

Swim

The river had a big sign that declared it was unsafe to swim in due to sewage run off and high pollutants. Soap had heard multiple Shadows call it Shit River. How on god’s green earth he got lucky enough to dive face first into it to avoid enemy fire he had no idea. 

Soap threw himself off of the bridge and started swimming, foul warm water splashing into his eyes and nose and mouth. He dove under as bullets hailed around him and moved through the water as quick as his tact vest, gun, and heavy boots would allow. He pulled up under a hollow log and took a quick gulp of fetid air before diving back down and swimming to the RV point. 

He dragged himself up out of the water to peals of laughter, “Have a good swim, Scottie?” one of the shadows asked. They all looked dry. He pushed himself up wet everything weighing him down as he steadied himself. 

“Johnny,” He looked up, Ghost was cutting through the pack to get to him, “Alright, Johnny?” 

Soap didn’t trust himself to open his mouth, his stomach was churning. 

“Did you swallow shit water, Johnny?” 

Soap punched him as hard as his shaking arm would allow, his stomach cramping violently. 

“MacTavish!” 

Not now, please god not now. 

“You know what I always say,” Graves didn’t get close enough to him to slap his back which was a small mercy, “Nothing like a cold beer after a swim.” He held out a can of beer and for some reason that was all the prompting Soap’s body needed. He grabbed a hold of Ghost to steady himself and threw up all over Graves’ boots. 

“Shit, man,” Graves laughed as Soap dug his fingers into Ghost’s arm, sweat dripping down his face as he heaved everything up in his body. “Yeah that’s probably a good idea, you wanna come back to the Shadow base, wash the shit off ya?” 

“No!” Soap choked out, not even caring how that sounded as he took the moment’s reprieve to stagger over to a less crowded spot and continue emptying his stomach. 

“Yeah , Johnny’s right,” he heard Ghost say, “He needs a change of clothes and all.” 

“We can get him some Shadow fatigues, I’m sure we have some in his size lying around.” 

“Johnny, do you want to wear Shadow fatigues? Throw up once for no.” 

Soap gripped the side of the SUV he was leaning against and threw up so hard he started coughing. 

“Right, see,” 

Soap could hear the scowl in Graves voice, “You know, Ghost , MacTavish is a grown man and he doesn’t need you deciding where he goes and what he does.” 

“I’m not,” Ghost’s voice was low in his throat, “Man said ‘no’, you just won’t fucking shove off.” 

Soap throwing up so violently he choked and banged his head against the side of the vehicle seemed to break up the argument and Ghost strode over. “Swallow it, Johnny boy, let’s get you back.” 

Soap nodded, blinking away tears and sweat, he was shaking, trying to avoid leaning against Ghost so as not to get him wet and dirty. Ghost just wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him in to steady as they walked. Ghost did not take them back to the Jeep, instead steering them to a truck, dropping the bed, and gently pushing Soap toward it. “Go on, lay down, don’t want to get your seat in the Jeep wet.” 

It was a good thing Soap was still at risk of throwing up because otherwise he’d be kissing Ghost right now. 

“Don’t hit bumps.” He managed, collapsing into the truck bed. 

“Spoil sport.” Ghost replied, closing the bed and hopping into the driver’s seat. 

The moment they arrived back at their small base Soap stripped outside the officer’s quarters he shared with Ghost, leaving his clothes in a heap next to the door. He kicked off his underwear as well. Any other time he’d be very aware of the fact that he was naked in front of Ghost but right now he just wanted to get out of his vomit and sewage covered clothes. He staggered into the building, made a beeline for the bathroom, and shut the door, laying his cheek on the blessedly clean toilet seat. He had just a moment to take a steadying breath before his stomach rebelled again and he was throwing up whatever else he had inside of him which, at this point, was just pink bile.

After about a half hour he coughed, finally feeling empty, and pushed himself to his feet. He leaned heavily against the sink, looking at his tear streaked face in the mirror and wondered if he was deluded enough to convince himself that Ghost hadn’t heard everything. 

Probably not. 

Soap took a slow breath and brushed his teeth before slouching into the shower. He turned it as hot as it would go and let himself be scalded as he scrubbed himself near raw trying to get himself as clean as possible. He stood under the shower head, letting the hot water burn his already red skin as he breathed. 

At last Soap slowly stepped out of the shower, reaching for the scratchy standard issue towel and drying himself in slow careful motions. He wrapped it around his waist and opened the door. 

The whole building felt chilled. 

Soap made for his bag, ready to dig through it for a change of clothes when he saw a small pile sitting in the middle of his bunk. There was a pack of black boot socks, a bottle of Calpol, a toothbrush and paste, a box of saltine crackers, and a set of white fuzzy socks with ducks on them. Soap picked up the duck socks and noticed a note; in small, cramped handwriting it said ‘sports drink and ginger ale in the fridge’ 

“You look like a newborn, did you scrub all your skin off?” 

Soap looked up from the note at Ghost, “You got me socks.” 

“‘Wet socks,’” Ghost said in an over the top Scottish accent, “‘Nothin’ I hate more than wet socks in boots, I’m gonna have bloody blisters’’.” Soap knew what he was talking about instantly, a time they had been made to tromp three miles through a marsh and he had, indeed, gotten angry red blisters from it. 

“You think ducky socks will help?” 

Soap was too tired, his smile too open and earnest, Ghost just heaved a loud sigh and began walking toward him. For one insane moment Soap thought Ghost was going to yank his towel away and ravish him. Instead Ghost walked past him, heading for the small kitchen area, “You want the Gatorade or the ginger ale?” Ghost asked, “Old lady at the store said that’s what you are supposed to get for upset stomachs, told her the Calpol should be enough, but she insisted.” 

“Um,” Soap’s head was starting to swim a bit, from standing and blood flow distribution “Ginger ale,” 

“Alright,” Ghost looked back at him through the doorway, “Well go get changed, I’m not giving you nothing if you’re going to stand around naked.” 

Soap nodded and grabbed a change of clothes, he wavered for a moment before also grabbing the duck socks and heading back to the bathroom. 

Ghost was sat on his bed waiting when Soap returned, warmer in his bed clothes and socks. Ghost was mostly dressed down, the blackout paint around his eyes as scrubbed off as it ever was, and the mask… Soap did his best not to smile or stare too much. It wasn’t often he saw Ghost without his typical skull hood and the balaclava he was wearing looked… well it looked right cozy, not that he’d ever say that.  

“It’s rude to stare, come here and sit,” 

Soap did as he was told, sitting on the bed while Ghost opened the bottle of ginger ale and handed it across to him. Soap was too charmed to complain, settling back into his pillow to sip the drink. Ghost waited for him to finish before offering him a cracker which Soap accepted. He did need to get something back on his stomach. 

“Better?” Ghost asked, his hand resting on Soap’s ankle, thumb rubbing along the top of the fuzzy sock. 

Soap looked at him, his cozy balaclava, his blue eyes, soft with a concern Soap knew no one but him saw. He took another sip of the ginger ale and wiggled his toes in the soft socks, “Better.” 

[p-isforpoetry]

Read by the poet: "Death Of The Hired Man" by Robert Frost

Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step, She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage To meet him in the doorway with the news And put him on his guard. ‘Silas is back.’ She pushed him outward with her through the door And shut it after her. ‘Be kind,’ she said. She took the market things from Warren’s arms And set them on the porch, then drew him down To sit beside her on the wooden steps.

‘When was I ever anything but kind to him? But I’ll not have the fellow back,’ he said. ‘I told him so last haying, didn’t I? If he left then, I said, that ended it. What good is he? Who else will harbor him At his age for the little he can do? What help he is there’s no depending on. Off he goes always when I need him most. He thinks he ought to earn a little pay, Enough at least to buy tobacco with, So he won’t have to beg and be beholden. “All right,” I say, “I can’t afford to pay Any fixed wages, though I wish I could.” “Someone else can.” “Then someone else will have to.” I shouldn’t mind his bettering himself If that was what it was. You can be certain, When he begins like that, there’s someone at him Trying to coax him off with pocket-money,— In haying time, when any help is scarce. In winter he comes back to us. I’m done.’

‘Sh! not so loud: he’ll hear you,’ Mary said.

‘I want him to: he’ll have to soon or late.’

‘He’s worn out. He’s asleep beside the stove. When I came up from Rowe’s I found him here, Huddled against the barn-door fast asleep, A miserable sight, and frightening, too— You needn’t smile—I didn’t recognize him— I wasn’t looking for him—and he’s changed. Wait till you see.’ ‘Where did you say he’d been?’

‘He didn’t say. I dragged him to the house, And gave him tea and tried to make him smoke. I tried to make him talk about his travels. Nothing would do: he just kept nodding off.’

‘What did he say? Did he say anything?’

‘But little.’ ‘Anything? Mary, confess

He said he’d come to ditch the meadow for me.’

‘Warren!’ ‘But did he? I just want to know.’

‘Of course he did. What would you have him say? Surely you wouldn’t grudge the poor old man Some humble way to save his self-respect. He added, if you really care to know, He meant to clear the upper pasture, too. That sounds like something you have heard before? Warren, I wish you could have heard the way He jumbled everything. I stopped to look Two or three times—he made me feel so queer— To see if he was talking in his sleep. He ran on Harold Wilson—you remember— The boy you had in haying four years since. He’s finished school, and teaching in his college. Silas declares you’ll have to get him back. He says they two will make a team for work: Between them they will lay this farm as smooth! The way he mixed that in with other things. He thinks young Wilson a likely lad, though daft On education—you know how they fought All through July under the blazing sun, Silas up on the cart to build the load, Harold along beside to pitch it on.’

‘Yes, I took care to keep well out of earshot.’

‘Well, those days trouble Silas like a dream. You wouldn’t think they would. How some things linger! Harold’s young college boy’s assurance piqued him. After so many years he still keeps finding Good arguments he sees he might have used. I sympathize. I know just how it feels To think of the right thing to say too late. Harold’s associated in his mind with Latin. He asked me what I thought of Harold’s saying He studied Latin like the violin Because he liked it—that an argument! He said he couldn’t make the boy believe He could find water with a hazel prong— Which showed how much good school had ever done him. He wanted to go over that. But most of all He thinks if he could have another chance To teach him how to build a load of hay—’

‘I know, that’s Silas’ one accomplishment. He bundles every forkful in its place, And tags and numbers it for future reference, So he can find and easily dislodge it In the unloading. Silas does that well. He takes it out in bunches like big birds’ nests. You never see him standing on the hay He’s trying to lift, straining to lift himself.’ …

Full poem

Source: Robert Frost reading his own poems, 1951

[bastardfae]

“oh, that’s genius. yeah! yeah, we should. nobody’s gotta know our business but us, right? ‘m sure they’ve got books in the library about historical codes an’ stuff. we’ll take inspiration from the past. i mean, how hard can it be to make up a code?” there was no doubt in arnon’s mind that it would actually be more than a little challenging to piece together what would effectively be an entirely new language between the two of them but with a little motivation and determination, the halfling was confident that they’d be able to come with something. it took arnon by surprise to be offered the small pleasure of asserting a boundary. since being forced into servitude under tiernan’s command, arnon had practically forgotten that boundaries were even a thing. he blinked a couple of times as he processed gibson’s kindness before offering a brief nod. “oh– yeah. yeah, ‘course. if it’s ever a problem, i’ll let you know. but you’re not a dick about it, so i don’t think it’s gonna be an issue. ‘s nice to have the option for once, though. thanks for… letting me have a say in stuff, i guess. kinda forgot what that felt like.”

the question caught him by surprise for a moment but arnon wasted no time in reassuring the celestial as best he could. “are you kidding? of course you can. i’m not even smart, i jus’ lack a filter and get too passionate about stuff. give it a little time, yeah? once we’ve gone through a few study sessions or whatever, you’ll retain stuff faster than you realise. ‘s kinda like muscle memory, y’know? the more you go over stuff, the more it sticks in your head. some things you won’t ever forget. fuck knows what, but there’s bound to be a few things that’ll stay in that head of yours.” arnon never would have considered himself qualified enough to be any kind of tutor but considering the subject matter they’d primarily be focusing upon, the halfling doubted there would be anyone better suited for it than himself. it wasn’t as if abbàn would be pitching in – the old bastard hadn’t even bothered to properly visit him yet, after all. “give it a little time. we’ll get there. soon enough, you’ll have more information stored away than you’ll know what to do with. trust me.” 

gibson’s praise of the fae brought a bright grin to arnon’s face instantly – such kindness was in desperately short supply around the castle, unsurprisingly, but that only made it all the more flattering to hear. “exactly. the declaration of war only came about ‘cause they didn’t agree with vampiric domination across the board. i mean, yeah, there’s the whole argument that the faeries wanted to usurp one totalitarian regime for another, but i don’t think they would’ve ruled anywhere near as cruelly as the leeches up top do now. not if it was a seelie majority in charge, anyway.” arnon’s grin remained in place as he listened, nodding enthusiastically as gibson spoke. “uh huh. that’s right. according to my sources, this place was used as a fortress for the fae during the second war. kept ‘em safe for a while. was an excellent vantage point, too. it also functioned as a place to hold any prisoners of war which is… less great, but that’s jus’ a side effect of war, isn’t it? ‘s never pleasant.” it was oddly comforting to think of all the times he’d accidentally retraced his father’s footsteps without realising it whilst exploring the castle – even if they were forced to be apart from one another for now, knowing that minuscule traces of abbàn still remained took some of the edge off of being held captive within the castle. 

“you say strong, everyone else i know says stupid, guess ‘s perpetually up for debate.” arnon gave a halfhearted shrug as he contemplated gibson’s words. “i don’t think it’s really got anything to do with being strong, necessarily– it’s jus’... wanting what’s best for everyone, y’know? none of us deserve to be stuck here. each and every one of us deserves to have our freedom reinstated. there’s no justifiable reason to adhere to the rules an’ regulations put in place by those freaks up above,” arnon’s grin quickly dissolved into a sneer as his gaze flickered up to the ceiling, scowling at the realisation that various members of the council were idly going about their day without a single care or concern for those forced into submission by their rule. “i mean, really, what’s the point? we’ve gotta do what they say jus’ because they’ve said so? yeah, no. that’s not a good enough reason. anyone can make up a few rules. doesn’t mean any of us need to abide by ‘em. they’ve gotten away with shit for too long. ‘s time to start undoing their mess an’ to carve out a future that actually means somethin’ for the rest of us.” forcing himself to take a breath, arnon heaved a heavy sigh and turned his attention back to gibson with an apologetic smile. “sorry. didn’t mean to rant at you. ‘s annoying, that’s all.”

"We should code them so they seem like stupid riddles that mean nothing if someone who isn't us sees them. And then if we like people we can tell them out to decode it. But if we get caught it'll just me silly little scribbles. I think the masters think I'm kind of an air head anyway because I space out a lot." The idea of a secret between the two of them made Gibson excited. Something just the two of them would share unless they wanted to loop in other people. Gibson practically beamed in joy when he was told that he was a special exception of physical affection with Arnon, Gibson loved contact and affection. Being locked up in a cage for so long he was touch starved, and it was nice to connect with people again- and more so he found himself already fond of Arnon. With a little laugh he hugged Arnon a bit tighter and rested his head on the top of the half fae's head. "That makes me feel special. If you ever don't want me to touch you just tell me." he said making sure that Arnon would know that his comfort was more important to him than hugs. Even if Gibson loved hugs.

"You think I can be smart like you? I've read lots of books but I don't think I'm smart. It's like all the stuff I know is floating around in my head- sometimes it comes to me and sometimes it doesn't." he said with a little laugh giving his head a playful little wrap with his knuckles. "Sometimes it's like my head is empty. And then pop. Ideas. Or thoughts just come in." Gibson listened to Arnon talk about fate, and destiny. Both things that made sense to him. He had always felt the same way- while he had never met any sort of creator or God. He felt like there had to be some guiding force in all of this. "Faeries make a lot of sense. I can see why they were in charge of the war effort. That and like they had a military and stuff. Someone told me this castle was a faerie castle. But it seems kinda scary now...not like how you'd like a faerie castle would be like in stories."

Gibson was really in awe of Arnon, his courage. Sure Gibson could bring himself to commit small acts of rebellion. A lost paper, dragging his feet when being told what to do- the absent air headed smile he had when asked questions by masters sometimes. But Arnon was really out there challenging them on their shit daily. Though that did make the angel worried and scared for him. "You're so strong. Like crazy strong."

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 19: "The Outside"

"So, how can I ever try to be better? Nobody ever lets me in..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

“Sam, come on!” you insist again, following Sam right on his heels.

“I already told you no,” he calls over his shoulder, picking up his pace to escape your relentlessness.

This was a conversation that you'd been desperate to have and he desperate to avoid. Using a gust of wind, you slam the door shut, cutting off his only exit and leaving Sam with no choice but to stop and talk to you.

“But why not? Steve and Tony think I’m ready!”

"I really hate when you do that," he mutters, staring at the door that was just closed in his face.

"Well if you'd stop and talk to me, I wouldn't have to. Now why not? Everyone else thinks I'm ready," you repeat.

“Well I don’t!” he exclaims, finally turning around to look at you.

“Why can’t you just trust me?” you quietly ask, the hurt clear on your face and voice.

You'd been living at the Compound for just over two months, you were getting along with everyone great. You were going on missions frequently, some even without Sam - a big step considering you were almost always by his side.

Everything was going great, and Steve told you he thought you were ready for a small solo mission, you eagerly agreed. There was only one small problem, you weren't capable of making that decision for yourself.

You were still an asset, and Sam had to be the one to sign off on it. You brought it up once, and Sam told you he'd think about it. And then he proceeded to avoid you, to use any and all means to keep this conversation from happening.

“I do trust you. I just think you’re rushing into it.”

“I’m not! I’m ready. And I want to go!”

“You asked and I gave you my answer: no.”

“You’re not even listening to me. You’re treating me like a baby,” you argue, feeling like you were back in the original days of your trio where Sam and Bucky's overprotectiveness kept you firmly placed on the sidelines.

“I’m not treating you like a baby. I’m treating you like a person who is not ready for this kind of mission,” he states, now getting visibly frustrated. He couldn't stop thinking about it, missions with Steve were different - he could trust Steve to keep you safe. But all alone, no one watching your back, it wasn't something he was prepared to put you through. 

“But you won’t even let me try. Come on, I’ve gone on plenty of missions with you and James. I’ve even gone with Steve before-”

“I already said no. That’s my answer, and it’s not going to change by you standing here talking my ear off.”

“But why not?!” you beg, desperately trying to prove yourself to him and everyone else on the Compound. 

“Because I said so!”

You angrily exhale. “You can’t just ‘because I said so’ me, Sam. That’s not fair!”

“Well I just did,” he angrily remarks. 

“Well then… I’m mad at you!” you declare, tightly clenching your fists.

“You’re going to be mad because I won’t let you go?” he questions.

“Yes,” you fume. “It’s official, I’m mad at you!”

“Fine then, be mad. It’s not going to change my mind.”

“Then I’m going to be mad somewhere else. I’m going outside,” you huff, turning on your heels in anger.

“How long are you going to need?” he calls, watching as you storm away from him. 

“15 minutes!” you shout over your shoulder. 

“15 minutes, not as bad as I thought,” Sam quietly mutters to himself as he sets a timer on his phone. 

“You guys set timers on your arguments?” Steve teasingly questions, opening the door you slammed after hearing your argument from the next room.

“She’s not very good at staying mad. We usually call a truce before our timer’s up,” Sam casually explains, almost forgetting that he's upset with Steve for approaching you with this stupid mission before talking to him about it.

“You two are strange,” Steve playfully comments, grabbing a water from the fridge. 

“I think you mean we have healthy boundaries and effective communication skills,” Sam corrects, then he crosses his arms, huffing angrily, “Speaking of which, why did you tell her that she’s ready for a solo mission?”

Steve shrugs, taking a swig from his water. “Because I think she is.”

“And you don’t think you should’ve talked to me about that first?”

“I didn’t think you’d get this worked up about it, to be honest.”

“Well, I am. You should’ve talked to me about this because now she’s upset that I won’t let her go.”

“And why won’t you let her go?”

“Do the words solo mission mean nothing to you?”

“Sam, come on, someone’s always watching out or at the very least on comms.”

“And what’s your point? She’s not ready,” Sam angrily emphasizes again. 

“And I think you’re wrong," Steve says calmly. "I think you’re worried about something happening to her, which I do understand-”

“No, you don’t! She’s not like the rest of us, she’s not ready!” he states, this time bordering on yelling at Steve. 

Steve sighs, torn between what he knew and what his friend was willing to accept. “Don’t you think you’re keeping too short of a leash? Eventually you’re going to have to learn to loosen the reins a little bit.”

“I’m not. I’m doing my job and keeping her safe.”

“And I think you’re doing a great job, but you’re suffocating her.”

“Now, I’m suffocating her?” Sam exhales, throwing up his hands in frustration.

“Yes, you are. You have to remember that she’s an adult too. She needs some room to breathe, Sam.”

“I give her plenty of space, but I’ve told you all time and time again that I’m not going to throw her into the deep end.”

“But you’re not even letting her try, Sam.”

“Because I don’t think she’s ready!” Sam snaps. 

“You know what, Sam?" Steve interrupts, seeing that he's clearly not going to get through to Sam like this. "You’re a reasonable guy, and if you think there’s a reason that she’s not ready then I’ll default to your judgment.”

“Don’t try to reverse psychology me, Steve. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve smiles, clapping a hand over Sam’s shoulder and walking away. 

“I’m not falling for it!” Sam calls after him.

But for the entire duration of your timer, Sam does think about it. And suddenly he’s questioning if maybe he is holding you too close to his chest. Steve’s right, you are an adult, you’re smart, and getting more and more capable of standing on your own two feet. 

“Damn it,” Sam curses under his breath. And he decides that he’s the one that needs to apologize, especially after it’s been 15 minutes and you’ve yet to seek him out. He goes to your room, and you’re not there. He remembers that you said you were going outside. 

He sighs and walks over to the door that’s closest to the little makeshift garden you started after moving. 

“Okay, it’s been 20 minutes, you really aren’t going to say anything?” Sam calls from around the doorway.

And it's absolutely silent out there.

No response.

And he knows that even when you're mad at him, you're not one to give the silent treatment. 

He walks through the doorway, rounding the corner and you’re not there. There's no sign of you at all. In fact, the only trace that you were there at all is your journal strewn aside on the ground. You’re just gone. And he gets a really sick feeling about the whole thing.

“We’ve got a problem!” Sam shouts, running through the hallway to find anyone that can help him. 

10 minutes earlier...

Without turning around, you see a shadow loom over your flowers. “Sam, I’m not done being mad yet.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you huff, “I mean it, Sam. I’m still upset-”

Then you feel a sharp jab in your neck. Your vision starts to blur as you turn around and see a vague unfamiliar silhouette standing over you.

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[esther-dot]

I’m not sure there is anything more heartbreaking than AGOT Sansa’s genuine belief that goodness, innocence, will be rewarded. Listen to her try to save Lady:

"That was when Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. "He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" She saw the truth on his face. "No," she said. "No, not Lady, Lady didn't bite anybody, she's good …" (AGOT, Eddard III)

"Stop them," Sansa pleaded, "don't let them do it, please, please, it wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can't, it wasn't Lady, don't let them hurt Lady, I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise…" She started to cry. (AGOT, Eddard III)

which is the same method she uses to try to convince her father not to punish her:

"I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen." (AGOT, Sansa III)

Which is the same argument she uses with Cersei:

"I'm good, ask Septa Mordane, she'll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey's loyal and loving wife." (AGOT, Sansa IV)

Sansa backed away from them. "I did as the queen asked, I wrote the letters, I wrote what she told me. You promised you'd be merciful. Please, let me go home. I won't do any treason, I'll be good, I swear it, I don't have traitor's blood, I don't. I only want to go home." (AGOT, Sansa VI)

I know people who don’t like her look at these instances of declaring her innocence with disdain, and point to anything they can to argue that she was guilty of numerous sins, but Sansa’s belief that her world has some semblance of justice, that innocence means something, isn’t a pretense to excuse herself. It’s a belief so ingrained, it's even what she calls out in her nightmares:

She woke murmuring, "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll be good, please don't," but there was no one to hear. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

The author established how the direwolves are representative early on. The tidbit about how Nymeria won't let Arya brush her coat when we know how Arya's hair is so often tangled (unbrushed) is too cute, and the way Nymeria won’t cooperate with Arya reminds me of  how Arya refuses to for her mother, Septa, and Sansa. Just as the Stark girls are contrasted, so are their direwolves. Lady is perfectly behaved, like Sansa. And no, Lady's death isn't about foreshadowing Sansa's death, it is about the beginning of the death of her innocence. The end of her beliefs as they were, herself as she was. In American Literature, it’s a literary trope for a childhood pet to be killed to mark the passage to adulthood (Where the Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller, The Yearling, etc), because until then, there is a golden sheen on life, that harsh reality, death, destroys.

Sansa begs for Lady as she begs for herself, but it is futile.

These words:

“She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting” (AGOT, Eddard III)

may just as easily have been written about Sansa. Lady calmly looks up at Ned never expecting that he would kill her, and Sansa believed Joffrey’s promise to spare Ned. Both Lady and Sansa’s trust was used against them:

“Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.” (ACOK, Sansa I)

Ned looked into Lady’s eyes and killed her, Joffrey looked into Sansa’s eyes and took Ned’s head. Is the point that Lady was stupid for trusting Ned, or that Ned was wrong to take an innocent life, to participate in an unjust act? That Robert was wrong for commanding it? Is the point that Sansa is stupid? Or that Joffrey and Cersei wronged her?

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

There’s asoiaf artwork of Lady looking up at Ned right before he executes her (link) that has crossed my dash several times, and predictably, the notes/tags are full of people talking about how sad it is. But, all I could think was, that’s how we’re meant to see Sansa in AGOT: innocent, trusting, betrayed.

Lady was good. Sansa was good. What happened to them wasn’t right, it wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t just. That’s the point.

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

Okay SO

I kinda have two main supporting points to make 1) the mean kangaroo lady’s reactions (and the subsequent reactions of the Who chairpeople but that’s like point one subsection A yknow) and 2) the Whos and their actions at the end of the movie

POINT ONE, the fact that the argument is over a “speck” is unimportant, it’s the kangaroo lady’s reaction to the speck that is important. The speck was a thing she Did Not Like and as the “self proclaimed ruler” of the jungle (important detail there) she cast judgement on it, and how did she get people on her side? With inflammatory language and weaponising children without any care for them; it is demonstrated throughout the movie that she is incredibly harsh on her own child, let alone others, so when she bases her argument in “protecting the children” we as the viewers know it’s a crock of shit, furthermore at the end of the movie she moves very quickly from her apparent enthusiasm over protecting the children into proclaiming that the speck will “put their authority into question” (paraphrasing rn) which will “lead to anarchy”. Also, very significantly, she proclaims kinda vaguely how the speck will “challenge [their] way of life” without any detail to the how or the why or what actual damage may be caused - are we recognising any of this rhetoric right now?

We also somewhat see this reflected in Whoville but in a slightly different way. Whilst in the jungle the aggression toward the speck is overt and nasty, the challenges that the Mayor faces in Whoville are slightly more quiet and insidious. The chairmen won’t allow for change or for things perceived as negative (at their own discretion, not taking input from anyone else) to effect the town, they hide these details from the public and quash any attempt from the Mayor about speaking up about the genuine danger they’re in/his own mistreatment - it’s treated as trivial and unimportant and, essentially, nonexistent (again, are we recognising these tactics yet)

POINT TWO, this one is a slightly more positive point as I’d like to discuss the representation of queer joy in Horton hears a who. Jojo is your average outcast character so you can really slap any kinda metaphor onto him and it’ll work, so in the context of the point I’m making he in of himself is the representation for the average queer teen (misunderstood by his parents, not sure where to go in life, stuck in a world he doesn’t quite belong in) so at the end of the movie when we see his creations and it’s loud and beautiful and an expression of himself???? That’s total queer joy right there. On top of that there’s the last hurrah of the Whos - they know their community is on the brink of destruction by those who don’t and refuse to understand them (seriously guys the allegory is right there) but they don’t let that stop their voices from being heard! They persist with their “we are here!” chant even when it looks like all hope has been lost, it could even be described as a form of protest which makes the whole scene a pride metaphor even. Even just the simplicity of the statement “we are here!” it’s not aggressive or angry, it’s literally a declaration of existence and peace and that’s fuckin cool I’d say

Important note for those who aren’t happy with my interpretation: it’s just that. . . An interpretation, that’s literally all it is, there could be thousands of other ways to read into and analyse the movie and this is mine, bigots leave this post alone

accidentally thought of Horton heard a who as a queer allegory and now I’m sobbing

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! Thank you for your work so far! How about the comedic antics of Adeuce and Grim getting lost in a maze and Yuu is the Only Sane Man in the group? - 🐤 anon

Curiouser and Curiouser...

You, Ace, Deuce, and Grim decided you’d team up to try and conquer Heartslabyul’s Halloween corn rose maze. The issue is, you underestimated just how hard the third years had made the challenge, and now you’re super lost.

Whenever you come to a fork in the road, Ace and Deuce argue about which way to take—left or right? They ask you and Grim to be the tiebreaker... but you two usually disagree on the way to go, too!

Grim is the first to suggest an easy way to clear the maze: set the entire thing on fire! You have to slap a hand over his mouth before he starts breathing fire on the flowers—you know Riddle would be furious if anything were to happen to the roses.

Grim tries offering another solution: he’ll climb to the top of the rose bushes to scout out where you should go next! ... Then he actually tries to climb the rose bushes and keeps slipping and falling into the thorns.

You and Deuce spend the next several minutes helping to pick the thorns and leaves out of Grim’s fur. Ace, meanwhile, laughs it up and tells him to lay off on the tuna cans.

Deuce says you should punch the rose bushes to clear the way. It usually works when the TV or a vending machine is broken, so he figures it will work on plants as well!

You need to let Deuce down by explaining that no, punching plants won’t fix your problem. He apologizes for not being able to come up with something better, but ultimately can’t brainstorm any other clever ideas.

Ace comes up with the most reasonable idea: using his wind magic to lift someone up so they can view the maze from up above and give the others directions on where to go next. Grim volunteers since he’s the lightest, and the plan is set into motion.

... But as soon as Grim’s up in the air, you hear a loud whistle going off, and Cater (or a clone of Cater?) pops his head out from a nearby rose bush to remind Ace that cheating is a big no-no! Then Cater disappears—and Ace takes off after him!!

You shout after Ace to ask what he’s doing, and all he shouts back is, “Cater-senpai probably knows the way out, dumbass! I’ll tailing him if it’s the last thing I do!!”

Without many options left, you yank Deuce and Grim with you as you follow Ace. Deeper and deeper into the rose maze you go, coming to a halt only when you hear Ace cursed loudly—he has lost track of Cater.

You continue to wander the maze until the sun sets. At that point, Grim becomes so tired that he resorts to riding on your shoulder instead of walking. He dramatically declares that he’s starving and that he’ll pass out soon if he doesn’t get food (which earns an eye roll from Ace).

Deuce takes Grim seriously and, concerned for his health, shouts out that he gives up on the maze. “We should prioritize getting Grim to safety and making sure he gets fed.” (“Are you serious, Deuce?! He’s just being dramatic! There’s NO way I’m giving up on this now, not when we’ve spent so much time on this dumb maze!”)

Ace and Deuce launch into another argument, leaving you to call for Cater to come help you out. A few moments later, your savior comes to escort you to the end of the maze (but not before pausing to take a group selfie to commemorate the moment). Hehe, outsmarted my cute kouhai ;9 is the caption to that pic.

Trey’s waiting for you at the end of the maze with a few small bags of candy prepared. “Consolation prizes for trying out the maze,” he explains, depositing one in each of your hands.

“F-Food... Fooooood!!” Grim sobs happily as he dives for the candy. Similarly, Ace and Deuce seem somewhat relieved to be rewarded for their troubles.

“Oi, lemme see what you have,” Ace demands, leaning over to peer at your bag. “I wanna see if you have anything I like. You’ll trade with me if you do, right?”

“Hey, Ace...! Don’t be so demanding,” Deuce protests. “There’s plenty of candy to go around. We can always sit somewhere and take our time sharing.”

Their bickering floats up into the darkening sky, and carried upon a crisp autumn breeze. No matter how bitter or bleak the night gets, you’ll always have the sweet taste of friendship lighting your way home.