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diana-bookfairchild · 1 year

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Falling (for you) Through The Snow

My fic for @jilychallenge2023 Winter in June Challenge. Partner: @wearingaberetinparis Prompt: You’re a snow artist and I think you just made a snowman(woman) that looks exactly like me… do you have anything to confess?

Lily Evans loathed the winter season.

She hated having to wear unwieldy scarves and large sweaters. She hated shivering and sneezing all the time. She hated the biting chill of the air. She hated the crunching of snow under her feet and having to shovel it out of the way. She hated even the merry carolers and especially the mistletoe she was allergic to.

It was honestly kind of ironic, because the man she was in love with was a snow artist and ice sculptor, which meant he basically personified All The Cold Things. Even imagining watching him make his intricate ice sculptures and snow craft made her smile.

She was that far gone.

Except that scenario was not at all plausible, firstly because she did not know the name of the man she was in love with, and secondly, he did not return her feelings. He was fixated on the The Unattainable Angel, or as Lily liked to call her, The One Who Had No Idea How Lucky She Was.

The name needed some work, but it conveyed her sentiment well enough.

She disliked disliking or competing with a fellow female but. . . Well, emotion did tend to disregard rational judgement and decision-making.

The love of her life thought ‘Effermont’ was a good pen-name, and she’d still fallen for him, so, well, love very clearly was one of those emotions.

It was her turn to write him, wasn’t it? It’d been nearly two days since she’d picked his letter up from Albus Dumbledore’s lovely little café Godric’s Hollow. If she left it much longer, he might think she’d abandoned him.

Or, more likely, that she’d died, seeing as he was rather full of himself on the exterior and would never believe anyone would deny themselves the opportunity to ‘bask in his reflected glory’ (his own words).

She’d grumble about the season to him. That always got him very cutely riled up.

Dear Eff,

Or should I say toff? I can’t believe you have a ski lodge! Are you going to it these hols? And what about your best friend/very annoying brother? Will he be going with you or is his wicked family going to trap him into one of their horror movie family reunions?

I can’t believe it’s winter again. I hate this season so much!

I can just see your face (I mean, I would I if I knew what it looked like) looking so annoyed. I know you like the winter, Eff. It’s the only flaw in your oh-so-perfect self.

I mean, winter is just plain annoying. With literally none of the good things other seasons bring! What comes in the winter? Slipping on the ice? Strawberries?

In other news, my sister and her husband came to visit home and my mum ordered me back, so I spent this weekend in my house in dodgy old Cokeworth. You haven’t heard of it. It’d be a no-name except I just wrote its name, so.

My nephew is a sweet baby, the cutest and chubbiest one on the planet. My sister on the other hand. . . Well, I’ll leave it at ‘we could get along better’. But you already know that. You probably know more of my sister and my relationship than anyone except my old best friend, but talking about him really brings down my mood so I’m not going to do that.

Not that much needs to happen for that. Winter is coming, after all. Winter is already here and that is such a pity.

She bought me this really ugly pink sweater. I’m sure it’s not lost on her that I’m a redhead and therefore ANY pink looks absolutely terrible on me, much less this garish monstrosity that makes me want to poke my eyes out when I look in the mirror while wearing it.

Redheads look terrible in pink. And basically any colour on the red spectrum. It’s a fact of life, and one she knows VERY well.

And she had the nerve to say it suited my personality? I’m sorry, what?

Honestly, sometimes I just want to kill her. And not in the good way – like how you say it about your very annoying best friend/brother.

How goes the life-ending heart rending love for The Unattainable Angel? You didn’t talk about that in your last letter, which is odd. Your letters are usually full of romantic woes. No judgement, mine were too, back when I actually had a romantic life to speak of.

How are your friends? Got into any ridiculous shenangians lately? Have you talked to your mother since your last letter? It sounds like you argued pretty badly and I know she’s very important to you, Mama’s boy.

In all seriousness, don’t let the bitterness fester. It does so too easily, and honestly, I’m a prime example. Don’t let one argument ruin such a wonderful relationship, Eff.

Onto lighter topics. I tried the flavour you recommended at Godric’s. It was good. Just the right amount of bitterness to offset the sweetness. Finally, we can say we both like a coffee flavour! It looked impossible for a while there.

And no, Katniss and Gale would definitely not make a good couple! The sheer amount of sweets you like to have is rotting your brain, Eff. Everlark all the way, thank you very much.

How are your studies going? Mine are going pretty well. At least you don’t need to take a Sociology class which requires you to send letters out to complete strangers in the hopes they’ll reply. I can’t regret picking this social experiment, though, because it got me you, and that made it pretty much worth it.

Pretty much. Weighing it out.

No letter hassle v. No Eff. Hmmm. Hard to say.

Kidding.

Continuing the getting to know you game: I hate, hate, HATE answering this but the embarrassing story about me my mum and dad just adore telling people is the time I went around the house narrating everything that was happening just in case we had cameras recording us for a reality show. Or the time I was flower-girl at my aunt’s wedding and I threw all the flowers on her new husband’s really annoying father’s head. Or the time I tried to cut my hair with safety scissors and had to get a bob cut to rectify the mess. Or the leash story. God, the leash story. You don’t want to know it. It’s even more mortifying as an adult.

If I could holiday anywhere, it’d be Italy. Venice and Rome especially! The thought of going along on a little gondola is just really fun, and Rome has all the history I love. History’s been my favourite subject since I was a kid. Not that I could ever tell dad. Maths has obviously been my sister’s and my favourite since we were kids and still is.

He still isn’t over me studying law.

So, for you! If you could have any name other than your given one (obviously, I don’t know what it is, so please don’t trick me by just using that!) what would it be? If you could have any pet, which animal and why?

And write something for me. You’re a psychology student, psychoanalyze me and write me something I’d like. I know, I know, your artistic talents tend towards visual – being a snow artist and all – rather than literature, I’m the literature swot between us, but I recorded that song on the piano and sent it to you, didn’t I?

I hope the walls of your house didn’t collapse from how bad that was.

Lots of love,

Flower.

Her pining didn’t show through that, Lily thought, pleased. Nor did her bitterness at asking about The Unattainable Angel. Lily despised the thought of seeing the other girl as a competitor – and she didn’t – but she didn’t need to drive a stake through her heart by repeatedly hearing about her.

But she had long decided the only way to get over a hopeless crush was to power through it while making her heart bleed over and over. Hence the asking.

She folded the letter and slid it into the envelope.

“Lily!” Mary called from the hall. “Are you done getting ready?”

Lily froze guiltily. She’d completely forgotten about the party in favour of venting her frustrations at Eff. He was very good at taking that. He was quite possibly the best pen pal in the universe, except she had no objective way of measuring that.

Subjectively, he absolutely was.

But back to the moment.

“Er, not yet,” she yelled back to her roommate. “Give me a minute!”

She quickly put on the dress Eliza had gotten out for her earlier – much to her protestations then and now relief that she didn’t have to select one herself – and did her makeup. It wasn’t anywhere near what she would have typically done for a party.

“Your minute means an hour,” Mary was exaggeratedly complaining as she slipped out of her room. She frowned at her. “Why do you look like you threw that together in thirty seconds?”

Probably because she had.

“Never mind that,” Eliza said like the godsend she was. “Mare, do her hair while I get the mascara.”

“I don’t get why you guys treat me like a baby,” Lily grumbled, even as grateful as she was.

Eliza pinched her cheek. “Oh poor jelly-baby,” she cooed her very demeaning nickname for Lily.

“Quit acting like one then,” Mary suggested rudely, parting her hair.

“We’re stopping by Godric’s on the way.” Lily announced as she started driving on the icy roads, finally entirely ready. She looked in the rearview mirror for a moment. She looked amazing. Mary and Eliza were miracle workers.

Mary groaned. “Oh, come on. Do you do anything other than write to your beloved Effermont?”

Mary was very disapproving of the whole letter-writing thing: both the concept of writing to a stranger and the reopening of her very tender wounds of heartbreak every time.

“Plenty,” she replied drily. “Listen to your opinions regarding it, for one.”

“I’m just worried about you, Lils!” She called after her as she left the car. They’d reached Godric’s Hollow café.

Fair enough.

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as brightly as ever as he took her letter outside his café. “Your Effermont is in there right now,” he said amusedly. She flushed at the ‘your’ before actually registering the sentence.

“Oh my God,” she said, feeling a thrill run up her. This was the first time they’d ever been this close to each other – that Lily knew of, anyway. “I should go then. Don’t want him discovering my identity.”

“Of course. Is this the actual letter or simply the directions? For I fear he’s in somewhat of a hurry,” Albus said.

Lily grinned. Eff had made her drink his coffee recommendation – good and not ridiculously sweet for once – before she could get his last letter. She’d once made him climb a tree. He’d once given her a series of riddles to solve before Albus gave her his letter. It was fun, but also not something you could do quickly, and Lily’s grumble fest had been pretty quick. Their letters typically reached seven or eight pages.

“The letter itself,” she assured him, shaking his hand before striding back to the car. Mary frowned disapprovingly, and Eliza gave her a thumbs up.

Mary lectured her about the letters all through the drive, making her very relieved to come up the driveway of the house where Benjy Fenwick was hosting the party.

“That is one big ass house,” she said under her breath as she leaned against her car after parking. Mary and Eliza were already inside.

“Isn’t it just?” Remus Lupin smiled at her, looking as tired as always. “Fenwick has a really huge inheritance.”

She bit back the instinctive ‘how are you’ – she was sure a chronically sick person like him was sick of that (pun unintended) – and instead asked, “Where are your mates?”

He waved vaguely at the house. “Sirius and Peter are in there, causing trouble no doubt, but James got. . . Delayed.” There was a wry twist to the last word that suggested disapproval or amusement. Lily couldn’t tell. “I’m waiting for him now, in fact.”

Alarm reared in her head. The last thing she wanted was to run into James Potter. She didn’t loathe him anymore the way she had in high school, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see him.

Too bad for her.

“Hey, Moony! I’ve got a new—” James Potter stopped short at the sight of her, blinking. He was casually handsome in a polo shirt and jacket and trousers, hair tousled, his spectacles lopsided on his angular face. “Evans.”

“Potter,” she said briskly. “I’ll see you in class, Remus.” She moved towards the house, when Potter grabbed her arm. It was gentle, not restricting or pulling, but it felt like a jolt of electricity ran up her arm. “Don’t touch me!”

She turned to glare at him. He backed up in alarm, holding his hands up. “Sorry, Evans. Just had a question.”

She breathed through her irritation. “What is it?”

“Can I use you as a model?”

“A model for what?” She stared at him.

Potter faltered, “I – uh, I’m an artist of sorts. And I was just wondering, for this commission—”

“You can,” she said brusquely, moving again. She modelled for art classes for extra money. She was used to being a muse for people. She didn’t know why Potter had asked in the first place but. . . It was considerate of him.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad.

On second thought, nah. She remembered the utter fiasco he’d created last week in the mess hall.

Potter was, for some reason, the person she disliked most among the self-proclaimed Marauders. Perhaps it was his brief obsession with asking her out back in high school, or the fact that he’d been the main perpetrator in Sev being bullied. But she immensely disliked talking to or being around him either way, so it didn’t really matter.

She rejoined Eliza – Mary was off somewhere with her toy of the night, this time Hestia Jones – and thankfully managed to avoid all the Marauders for the rest of the party.

She even managed to enjoy herself, drinking a fair bit, dancing, playing a couple games and giving her number to a cute guy who might actually help her get over Eff.

All in all not a half bad night. She’d gone to worse parties.

She found herself back in Godric’s Hollow the two evenings later, listening to Marshmello on her headphones, sipping a Frappuccino (bitter, obviously) and finishing editing her assignment in Trade Relations.

“Lily,” Albus called. She looked up enquiringly, slipping her headphones down her neck. “A note from your Effermont.”

The whole world lit up from its previously dull colours. She eagerly took the folded paper from the barista, reading the scrawled message. Eff had a weird handwriting: it was like he’d been taught calligraphy, but didn’t have the time or the bother to either use it properly or disregard it completely.

It was charming. She loved it.

You will find your letter at the following place: 1. Dog Walkers for Hire 2. Home Repair 3. Symphony Orchestra

Lily closed her laptop and packed her things hurriedly, eagerness swimming through her. She’d figured out the place easily, and rushed to the intersection, grabbing the letter (with a laugh at the fact that a Congrats! Sticker was stamped on the envelope) and walked back to the flat, pulling her shawl tighter around herself.

God, she hated the cold.

Eff was as irascibly cheerful as ever.

To the Prettiest Flower in Existence, started the letter, making Lily blush delightedly.

It is I, your beloved Eff! I hope you haven’t missed me too much. It took a while to set up the hunt and write down everything I wanted to do. My mum goes crazy for Christmas. She’s hired all these decorators for the manor, and I can just hear you say ‘toff’! (If I knew what your voice sounded like, of course). So my very annoying best friend/brother and I had to clear off for a bit, and then my other friend had this episode with his illness and. . .

Well, anyway, I was busy. And things are all fine now. Mum isn’t going any less crazy, sadly, but the rest of it’s sorted.

To answer your questions: Honestly, I’m not sure what name I’d like. My dad and mum have these really ridiculous names, you’d laugh if you ever heard them. Seriously. And my best friends too. So I think I’d either want some stupidly fancy thing to match them (not likely) – like Theodore, or Romulus, or Perseus, or Octavius or Septimus. More likely some nice, common name like mine. So. . . Tom maybe. Tom sounds nice. Or Alastair. That’s a cool name too. Daniel. Sam. Alex. Noah. Henry, like my granddad. And I would love to be a Finnick, obviously. After my favourite character, even if it would invite jokes about being too finicky.

Honestly, it’s impossible to choose! Just like you to give these weird philosophical questions, Flower. I had to ask my parents why they chose the name James and all that, so points for giving me a chance to learn some family history plus some terrible details of their sex life I never wanted to know.

As for the second one, an owl. Hands down. I don’t need a dog, because my best friend/brother is practically one, minus the obedience part. An owl just sounds really amazing. Nocturnal animal, for one. It could keep me company on my night study sessions. Did you know they can rotate their necks upto 270 degrees?? And that they have asymmetrical ears? Plus they could be like carrier pigeons! Delivery owls! I’d train them. In fact, I want to be an owl trainer when I grow up. Forget my Psychology and Philosophy degree.

You’ve probably gathered from some of the other comments that I made up with mum. You were right. Naturally. You’re probably always right, and just incredible like that. I was a bit hesitant about making the first apology (my pride yada yada, psychoanalyzing and all) but your letter convinced me, so. . . Thanks for that, Flower. You’re the best.

I have heard of Cokeworth, actually. It’s where The Unattainable Angel is from, which is such a coincidence! Do you think you might know one another? You’re both about the same age – mine – and I gather it’s a fairly small town so you must, yeah?

I am extremely offended at your disparaging winter, Flower. My favourite season! I’m sorry, we’re over. I can’t write to someone who hates something so meaningful to me. I’m a snow artist! It’s a bit weird, isn’t it, that we’re writing to one another? Months after your first generic letter for your project? You dislike sweet stuff, I love it. You hate winter, and the winter is literally my livelihood. You ship Everlark, I ship Everthorne. BTW, you’re wrong about that. Like, so wrong. Attached is a list of reasons Everthorne would work. I love Katniss and Gale together!

Attached is also a story I wrote for you. Feel honoured, Flower. I don’t do this for just anybody. Also, don’t come at me when you find that it’s absolutely awful. I know. Like you said, I’m not a writer. I’m an artist. A SNOW artist, so deal with it. Winter’s the best. Winter is already here, and that is AMAZING.

Speaking as an artist, I can assure you, pink does not look terrible on all redheads. The Unattainable Angel is a redhead, and she would look pretty in a garbage bag, so I refute your assertion. I bet you look good in pink too.

In order to prove that, I, the stunning snow artist that I am, will be making a sculpture of The Unattainable Angel in pink! It’s a commission I got last week, for this business party in a garden in the suburbs. It’s some fundraiser, sort of, plus networking – don’t ask me. My dad does this kind of stuff for his business, and it all goes way over my head. Who holds something like this in a garden though? And wants an ice sculpture for it? Especially one of a girl? I contemplated not doing it, especially because I don’t want her stared at by perverts, but she agreed, and she’s a model, so she’s probably used to it. . .

She’s so great. And so incredibly gorgeous. I can’t wait to get sculpting! It’ll turn out beautiful, I’m sure. Anything would, with her as model.

Ouch about your sister, though. I can’t believe she said that. I’m sorry your relationship has soured so much. My best friend/adopted brother is the worst and most annoying person on the planet, but I can’t imagine my life or myself without him. I’m sorry you’ve lost that closeness. I’m sure it must be hard.

The Unattainable Angel is as, well, unattainable as ever. She really, really hates me. So nothing new on that front, except I actually managed words to ask her if she can be my model for the sculpture, to prove something to you and for the commission – the first more than the second ;)

Trust me, you don’t want to know about my friends. Really. Like I said, my chronically ill friend had an episode, but he’s fine now. But really. My brother and our other friend did this so stupid thing yesterday. . . It involved flag poles. And jumping off buildings. They may have been a tad drunk.

They must have been – either that, or clinically insane. And my mum still didn’t scold him! She’s definitely playing favourites. And I am not pouting about it. Also, I am so not a Mama’s boy, Flower! You take that back!

My studies are going well. I got an A on that test I wrote to you about being nervous about, so that’s a relief. It’s so weird to think we’re already well into our second year. It feels like I’m still at high school sometimes. The general stupidity of the population doesn’t change no matter where you are, I’m sure you would say. But still.

Yeeees, soon we’ll bring you onto the dark side Flower! Soon you’ll be consuming the sugariest and sweetest stuff known to mankind and loving it! In all seriousness, glad you liked the rec! I’m going to suggest white chocolate peppermint tea now. It’s a Godric’s special. It’s pretty sweet, but I think you’ll like it. Or maybe not. Try it and tell me!

I absolutely want to know the leash story! Tell me, tell me, tell me! Pretty please with a cherry on top? I’m sending you puppy eyes right now. I wish you could see. My mum tells me my puppy dog begging eyes are absolutely lethal. I bet you’d cave in an instant. I wish we could meet in person. I know you don’t want to – just an idle wish.

Also, wow. Those stories are hilarious. Not as stupidly embarrassing as ones my mum insists on telling though. She brings out the baby album every. time. somebody visits. It’s so stupid! And my brother is no help, he just keeps laughing, especially because there aren’t any baby photos of him.

I bet you looked cute with your bob cut, though. How old were you then? The thought that people might be watching us in some reality show is pretty scary. Thanks for the nightmares, Flower.

Continuing the game: Tell me your favourite traditions for a holiday. Any holiday. And if you could have any three books survive the apocalypse with you, which would they be?

I want you to write down five things you even slightly like about the winter. As a snow artist, I demand that my pen pal/closest female friend like at least something about it. If you could send me that piano recording (which wasn’t that bad by the way) you can do this. For me? With puppy dog eyes again.

Lots of love,

Effermont.

Lily was smiling instinctively as she read through the letter, already composing a reply inside her head. She couldn’t help it. Eff was so effortlessly cheerfully charming. God, she was so hopelessly in love with him. Even as he pined after The Unattainable Angel. Who sounded like a bitch who had no idea what she had.

Lily sighed and tried to let go of that misplaced anger. She just wished she could have Eff like her. He did seem like he was flirting sometimes. It got her hopes up when they oughtn’t.

Maybe Mary was right. Maybe this was bad for her.

But at the same time – she couldn’t stomach the thought of this stopping. Of never receiving a letter from him again. Of never laughing at his random thoughts and smiley faces. Of never feeling that despairing love again.

There was no good choice.

She let her chin drop onto her palm as she scanned the letter again idly, stopping at the places where he complimented her, blushing and feeling nerves stir in her stomach. Stopping where he described his latest commission, she frowned.

That sounded familiar. Lily thought about it, putting the letter and the attached papers away for later reading and replying. A networking event. Garden. In the suburbs. Ice. . . Then it clicked.

Marlene’s mum’s company was having a gala in the garden just outside her house. A semi-informal one. Marley had talked to her about the ice statue of a girl they’d ordered for it. Someone in the family had been commissioned.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat. Someone in Marley’s family could be Eff. The thought was almost dangerous. She’d met her friend’s immediate family a couple times. Her mind was immediately racing: she had two brothers. And multiple male cousins. One of them. . .

But would knowing be a good thing? Did she want to know who Eff really was?

Yes, her traitorous heart replied. Of course she wanted to know whom she was in love with.

But the more sensible part of her protested. She already liked him enough. Knowing his true identity, seeing him around the Hogwarts campus – that might literally shatter her. She didn’t know if she could handle it.

But Lily was impulsive, reckless. It was somethine Tuney and Sev had derided her for multiple times. It was part of who she was. She took out her phone and shot a message to Marlene, asking if she could come to her mum’s party, on account of being a law student and networking.

It wasn’t a lie. Meeting influential people would be useful.

But she knew her main reason for asking. And it was purely personal.

The party was nice – a much classier affair than the high school and college parties she’d been to, thankfully. She chatted with several people, made nice and got business cards, all the while looking for an ice sculpture of a girl, heart thumping.

“Lily!” Marlene called. “Hey, crazy coincidence you’re here.”

“Why is that?” She asked, putting her glass of wine down and making her way to her friend.

Marley pointed vaguely in the direction behind her. “This ice statue— it’s of a girl, and—”

Lily didn’t bother listening further, turning and making her way in that direction. Then she saw the statue, and came to a standstill.

It was her. It was her, in pink clothes, just as Eff had promised. It was her right down to the curves of her hair and the green in her eyes and the smile on her face.

Eff had used her as the model for his commission.

She was The Unattainable Angel.

Her mind went blank. Her whole body felt numb, and not from the cold. Her hands were trembling.

Eff was in love with her. He was every bit in love with her as she was with him, judging by his letters.

She had to—she had to find him. She had to tell him. She had to move. She had to do something.

But what?

Dear Eff,

I saw the statue you made for the McKinnon Offices’ Business Party. I know her. I want to meet. I think I can help you finally attain The Unattainable Angel.

Love,

Flower

To the Flower of Utter Amazingness,

You want to meet??! Like, seriously?? Tell me this isn’t a joke, Flower. I’ve wanted this for ages.

I can’t believe you saw the statue.

So you do know Evans, huh. Small world.

Godric’s Hollow? The table where you left your first letter? 5 pm on Monday?

Lots and lots of love,

Effermont

Dear Eff,

Smaller than you might think, actually.

I’ll see you there.

Lots of love,

Flower

Lily was dying of anticipation.

She wasn’t one to tend to hyperbole like that – but this was an extraordinary situation. She was about to meet the man she was head-over-heels in love with. She felt that deserved some exaggeration.

It was four fifty-five on Monday. Lily had her book bag swung over her shoulder, too wrecked with nerves to go back to her apartment post classes.

She was going to meet Eff!

She. Was. Going. To. Meet. Her. Pen-Pal.

It still wouldn’t quite sink in.

She sat on a bench across the road from the café, with the table they were supposed to meet at well within view. She wasn’t willing to be seen as – well, desperate, and reach first, and she wanted to have a chance to assess after she was blindsided by information.

Lily liked to be in control of things.

It was why she found herself so extremely annoyed when James Potter of all people sat in at the table, moments after she’d taken her own seat. Why did he have to pick now to come to Godric’s? And that particular seat?

Eff would come soon and ask him to move away, she thought hopefully. She kept a keen eye out for anyone approaching that particular table, but no one did.

Bitterness welled deep in her twenty minutes into the wait. She couldn’t believe Eff had stood her up like this. It was ridiculous. He’d seemed so excited in his letter. Even Albus had chuckled to her about it. Had something gone wrong on his side? Was he perhaps waiting, not wanting to eject someone from their seat?

Nah. He was too arrogant for that.

Impulsively, she stood and made her way to that table. Maybe there was a note? Another letter?

“Evans!” Potter – squeaked, flailing about undignifiedly. He was always so odd around her. She despised him, but he seemed to waver between awkward and sleazy around her. Which was a pity. He wasn’t bad looking and Mary kept insisting he’d grown up since high school.

Lily didn’t really see how bullies grew up.

“Potter.” she said shortly.

“Did you, uh, want the table?” Potter stood up quickly, hands in his pockets. She could understand that. Lily hated sitting when someone was looming over her. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep the table when: “I was just waiting for someone—”

Dread encapsulated her. Dots which she really didn’t need at that moment connected. “Who?” She asked urgently.

He blinked at her. “Who?” She asked again, impatient and nervous and scared and excited and disgusted and anxious and apprehensive all at once.

“Just a, er, friend— we’ve never met before so this was the meeting place we decided – but she’s late—”

“A pen-pal?” She asked quietly. “Eff?”

Wonder took over his face. He smiled blindingly, hand lifting as though to touch her face before he put it down. “Flower?” He said quietly.

They stared at one another for a moment.

“I can’t believe it’s you—” He laughed lightly.

James Potter. James Potter. The one who’d tugged on her pigtails and dumped paint all over her and teased her about her drawing and told her she was beautiful and amazing and relentlessly persecuted Sev and partnered with her for a Science Project and won the lacrosse championship for their school.

James Potter.

Was Eff. Effermont. Who was always cheerful, had ready jokes, was arrogantly charming, a shoulder for her to cry on, and was the one person she trusted and relied on most.

Whom she was in love with.

Feeling suffocated and trapped all of a sudden, she turned. “I can’t either,” she snapped curtly, walking briskly outside.

“Hey, Evans? What – where are you – Flower!”

Ignoring the urge to stop at the final call, she jogged back home, burying the need to cry deep inside.

“I. . . Don’t get it, Lils.” Mary said, frowning. “So the pen-pal you were head-over-heels for turns out to be a guy with a great bod and an even better brain? What’s to whine about?”

Lily stared at her best friend disbelievingly. “You don’t get it? Mare! It’s James Potter! I’m in love with James Potter!”

“Yeah. So?”

“It’s. . .” Lily couldn’t help it; she got up and began to pace. “It’s so. . . Confusing, I guess. I mean. I didn’t like Potter. I still don’t like him, frankly.”

“Oh, not this again,” Mary groaned. “Come on, Lily. Haven’t you been dragging this high school feud long enough?”

“He was an asshole!” Lily raged. “He bullied Sev!”

“Who gave back every bit he got,” she pointed out. “Look, I’m not saying Potter was right to do it, ganging up on Snape and doing all those awful things to him. It was terrible. It was wrong. But. . . It was years ago. You got to know Potter in a completely new, objective way. And you fell in love with him. Doesn’t that say something?”

Lily scowled, turning away from her friend. It did. It said several things.

It wasn’t as though she’d only hated Potter, even back then in high school. He’d asked her out repetitively during that one phase. He’d managed to cheer her up with his dumb jokes more than one time. He’d been an excellent partner for that one project they’d been paired up for. He’d been the only one who could keep up with her in the Debate Team – they’d used to argue until they were breathless, chests heaving.

Knowing Potter had been exhilarating even then. He was a constantly tempestuous ride, and she’d never known which side she was about to get – awkward Potter who couldn’t string together a sentence around her, the coolly confident one who teased and argued with her, the passionate jock she’d cheer on in the field, the bullying toerag who got off on the misery of others.

He was a dichotomy. Always.

But she’d never once gotten that vibe from Eff. Could he be arrogant, condescending, disregarding of others’ feelings occasionally and accidentally? Sure. But he was a good man at heart. Lily wouldn’t have set up a meeting if she didn’t believe that.

But Eff being James Potter. . .

And she was The Unattainable Angel. She, Lily Evans! She couldn’t believe it. And she couldn’t deny that thought made her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in years.

Her mind made the decision quickly. “Okay. Yes. You’re right.” Her heart was pounding.

“I cannot believe you said that!” Mary cheered. “The Best To-Be Lawyer and Judge in the world said I’m right! Woohoo! Where’s my phone, I need to record this.”

“Shut up.” Lily rolled her eyes, ducking her head at the compliments. “But. . . I don’t have his number. What do I do? What if he hates me? What if—”

“Lil. Chill. That guy isn’t capable of hating you,” Mary said reassuringly. “And you have his best mate’s number. Call Lupin. Ask him to . . . I don’t know, connect you with Potter.”

“Okay,” Lily breathed, rubbing at her chest. “Okay. Thanks, Mare. You’re the best.”

“I know.” Her friend smiled smugly. “Go get him, girl!”

Hey, she texted Remus.

Hey, came a text back, only five minutes later. What’s up?

Can you send me Potter’s number? She asked without preamble.

There were the three dots, indicating he was typing. Then they disappeared. And reappeared.

You really hurt him, Lily, was the final message.

She stared at it. Tapped on the screen while she figured out her reply.

I know. I want to make up for it.

There. She thought that conveyed the sentiment, even though the phrasing was awkward and not her best. She just. . . Really couldn’t think about anything. Love had that effect.

There was no reply in words – just a number. Heart pounding, she sent him a thank you before saving Potter’s number in her mobile and starting to message him.

She went through several drafts in her head before she decided he would appreciate casualness the best.

Hi, Eff, she sent. I’m so sorry about today. Do over?

As Her Floweriness commands, was the reply, setting her at ease the way only he could do. The main fountain on the school campus okay with you, Evans? Tomorrow evening, 7:00?

Absolutely. See you then, Potter.

No running away this time?

Definitely not.

And it was done. Lily rolled over in her bed, grabbing her pen and journal, an idea striking her.

There was no better way.

She sat on the fountain, watching the water spring from the funnel, tired and excited and scared. Snow fell around her, landing softly. It was only fair, Lily supposed, that she be the one to wait this time. Still. It wasn’t easy.

“Evans,” someone breathed, and Lily spun around hastily, nearly tripping into the water. He caught her, one hand around her waist and the other grabbing hers. “Easy there.”

She froze, tingling sensations spreading from the place his hands touched. She wanted to stay there forever. She wanted to rip herself away. She turned to him slowly. “Potter.”

He let go of her, stuffing his hands in his pockets, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She felt oddly bereft.

“I, um—”

“Maybe we should—”

They paused, having started speaking at the same time. Lily cleared her throat. “I. Wrote this for you.” She thrust her letter at him.

He blinked at it. “Wow.” Why didn’t he take it? Did he hate her? Did he not want it? Did he have some other idea of how this was going to go? Was he— “That’s weird. I wrote a letter for you too.” He took something out of his pocket: an envelope.

They stared at one another. She couldn’t believe they’d had the same idea. It was ridiculous. Connecting. Soulmating, if she believed in those crap romance novels Eliza liked to read. Hand trembling, she reached out to take his. They exchanged envelopes.

Lily tore her eyes from his face to the letter in her hands.

Lily-Flower,

Thanks for running away, Evans. I really needed that. Real nice of you—

Sorry about that. Just. . . Got a bit angry.

Hey, Flower. I can’t believe you’re Lily Evans. The girl I’ve been pining over like an idiot since high school. Yes, you can gasp in shock and recoil in disgust. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got a massive crush on you.

No. That doesn’t sum it up.

I am absolutely, utterly, horrendously in love with you.

I don’t have the way with words you do. So. . . I’m not sure how. . . I guess I was halfway there even with my friend and pen-pal Flower. Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail always used to get these looks on their faces whenever I told them about the letters. But I was too hung up on you, Evans. You were. Well. You were The Unattainable Angel after all.

First and foremost, you’re my friend. And you don’t have to be. If you never want to see me again, call quits on the letters, that’s fine. I just hope you read this. One last letter from Effermont to Flower, eh?

I guess I can tell you why I picked that name now. My mum’s name is Euphemia. And you know my dad’s name is Fleamont. It was a kind of combination of their names. Plus, it sounds a bit like effeminate – which, I know is sometimes used as a slur, but you thought I was a girl when we first began writing. It was a joke.

A mean one. I know. I thought a lot about why you ran away like that. I was angry. Hurt. Still am, honestly. But I guess I can understand. I know you, Flower. I know you pretty well. So I can understand you running away to deal with your emotions.

I just hope you don’t mind this contact.

I haven’t. . . Always been the best person. I know that. And I don’t think I would have liked the person I would have turned out to be if I had continued like that. It’s. Hard. I was always arrogant, entitled, and jealous and bullying. . . And. It’s hard to describe.

And I know you hated me back then in high school, especially when I asked you out – which was all serious, by the way. I know you thought that me making a production of it was because it was a joke. It wasn’t.

Your hating me’s your prerogative, obviously.

I suppose I understand reconciling your friend with someone you loathe is hard.

Anyway. I’m just writing this to say. . . It’s okay. Whatever you want to do.

And I am still as in love with you as ever, Lily Evans. I didn’t need you to sing in the assembly like Peeta did (I hope you appreciate me making an Everlark reference). I just am. Have been for ages. Seems, at this point, like I always will be.

Yours,

Eff James Potter

Lily swallowed. She lowered the letter, looking at Potter. His face was intent, hopeful, wary. He was obviously done with her letter, folding it over and over in his hands.

“Since high school?” She whispered. “All those times. . . You were serious?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, Lily. I really, really was.”

He was calling her Lily now, she noticed vaguely. “You said whatever I want to do, you’re okay with it,” she said.

A flash of uncertainty. “Yeah. ‘Course. I meant that. Still do.” he assured her.

“And you don’t understand from my letter what that would be?” She asked, tone slightly teasing.

“Weeeeeell. . .” He dragged out the word, smirking a lopsided grin that made him very attractive. “You could stand to be a bit clearer.”

“Okay,” she said softly, walking closer to him. She could see the way snow fell on his head, the way the droplets clung to his lashes. The way his eyes, the golden flecks in the hazel, softened when they landed on her. “I am ardently, steadfastly, horrendously in love with you, Eff. James Potter.”

And she leaned up and kissed him.

He gasped, still for a moment, before kissing back. The pressure was electric. It was comforting. It was warmth, in the snowy winter around them. His arm came up against her back, lightly pressing, supporting. Her hands trailed up to his shoulders.

They parted, saying nothing for a long moment, staring at one another softly. James cleared his throat. “You’ve – got some snow here,” he patted it off her shoulder gently, letting his hand linger, his thumb brushing her collarbone.

She shivered, not entirely due to the cold. “Ugh. I hate snow.” She complained, still lightheaded from the kissing. “I loathe the winter.”

He smiled, a small quirk of his lips. “Yeah, I know.” He took her hand bringing it up to his lips. “Not only bad things happen in winter, though.”

She felt her own face light up in response, curling her hand with his, interlocking their fingers. “I suppose not.” Lily replied. “You still can’t say anything good about the snow though.”

“She says to the snow artist. . .”

And they bickered, walking hand-in-hand through the snow.

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girljeremystrong · 7 months

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hi cat!! i have a favor to ask - would you be able to tell me some of your favorite places/cities/anything in italy? my cousins & i are planning a trip & are a bit overwhelmed with choices haha

YES but first i have to warn you that i have barely scratched the surface of the beauty that's in this country and most importantly i have barely been in the south and on the islands except for i went to naples a decade ago so i can't really recommend anything there which is a shame because the south of italy is INCREDIBLE. for instance my dream is to take a road trip through sicily and wander around for like a month. again i can't really speak on it because i've never been but i think it must be one of the most splendid places in the world and it's full of ancient greek architecture and the sea is wonderful and the cities are full of beautiful art and i can't wait to go and see it all with my own eyes.

of course i live in tuscany and specifically near florence and i think florence is the best of the best in the whole world and i think you should definitely go and see it. but also it's a small-ish city and while exploring it fully would take a lifetime i think if your goal is to visit a few places and cities in the same holiday you can probably get away with spending like four days in florence and then go somewhere else! places that i think you should definitely visit while in florence are: the uffizi galleries of course, orsanmichele (i got chocked up the first time i visited because it's so beautiful and the views of the city are stunning), the cathedral of santa maria del fiore where you can decide if you want to climb up the bell tower or the dome (or both if you're very fit!) and i particularly love the medici chapels and the museum galleria palatina in palazzo pitti. and everything is in the city center so it's easy to walk everywhere and walking everywhere you'll be able to see the piazza della signoria with our most beautiful palazzo vecchio and the ponte vecchio!

while you're in florence you might want to go to a few nearby places like you could take an hour train to pisa where you honestly just need a couple hours to bask in the glory of the piazza dei miracoli (which houses the famous crooked tower but also a gorgeous cathedral and baptistery). very near florence (like a short bus ride away) is fiesole which is a cutie little mini town where you can get one beautiful view over florence and also see etruscan/roman excavations and ruins including a beautiful roman theater! also near florence but slightly harder to reach is certaldo where one of the fathers of italian literature was born and which is famous nowadays for being gorgeous and old and having a beautiful beautiful palazzo pretorio. siena is almost a must see in my opinion and it's a train ride away from florence and it is just a beauty. so incredible. further south we have two absolutely stunning little gems called san gimignano and volterra which you might know from twilight SHDJDKJF but no seriously they are so beautiful and you eat so well there and both are so worth seeing.

liguria is just north of tuscany and i know it a little. i think of course that cinque terre are incredible and so italian and great but i will add that a little seaside town called portovenere should absolutely be added to the itinerary if you're gonna be close because it's beautiful and it houses one of the best things i have ever seen in my life which is byron grotto (yes like the poet! apparently he would swim out of there to go reach shelley?) which is soooo gorgeous.

so like. i don't know because i am biased and i was born and raised here but i think tuscany (and that corner of liguria) is the most beautiful gorgeous and perfect little triangle of land in the whole world and if you're coming to italy from everywhere else i think that's the first place you should visit.

of course milan and rome and turin and naples and venice are all incredible and worth of a (long) visit and i have found such beauty and met incredible people and been left speechless by what i've seen in each of those cities but maybe that's for another post and also i definitely do not know them nearly as well as i know florence but i think you would love to visit them.

IN CONCLUSION. i don't know that this will have clared your head in any way at all. it's a bit all over the place. i love florence and i love tuscany but italy is beautiful in every corner in every way!

#honestly i don't think that this is helpful at all LMAO #sorry but please do send another ask if you want to know anything about anything i would love to help you!#ask #anonymous

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talesofmetalandmagic · 2 years

Text

A cup of hope for Azir

After a few weeks at camp, recovering and re-learning to live as a... well, as a person (bird) at this point, Azir calls his retinue to him and sits them in a circle. He's wearing what has become his typical outfit, a soft dressing gown embroidered in Taliyah's people's style, and he's going to miss it a lot once he puts on his new armor, half-elm – he can't take a full helm, not after... we know what – and cape for his imperial tour.

-From the next day forward, we're going to depart to the confines of Shurima, so I may reclaim my throne and put an end to the conflicts that have befallen it after my... my dreadful Ascension.-

There he goes again, Taliyah thinks. Me, me, my empire, my glory, I'm so cool, great Azir marvelous he and so forth.

-I've been blessed with a second chance to start anew, and as such feel as if it's in my and everyone's best interests to do things... differently this time around. This is why I have you here: to compensate for any blind spot and widen my point of view, so I may always do better. Six eyes, six minds... one heart.-

Even Sivir has stopped looking at her nails, which she'd often do when Azir calls his retainers around him, and it takes one elbow jab from Akshan for her to close his mouth. Did Azir hit his head?

And everyone's surprise rises when Azir shifts to the side the train of his dressing gown and reveals a flask and a bejeweled cup. He pours the flask into the cup, filling it with rich red wine, and shows it around with the ceremonial gestures he knows so well.

-From the moment we drink from this cup... this will make us one. We'll share our troubles and trials, bask in the same light... and I swear on my ancestral home, no voice will be left unheard.-

He takes a hefty sip of wine, then passes the cup to Nasus, who passes it on to Taliyah, and Samira, and Akshan, and when Sivir gives it back to him, it's empty. She touches his hands for a moment, stroking them with the tip of her fingers, and even though he's dizzy for the wine – he hasn't drunk for more than a year – he can see a glimpse of a smile in her eyes.

Taliyah, who doesn't like wine and just took a small lick, also can't stop staring at Azir. Whatever he's endured in the clutches of Xerath, it's rubbed away all his pride. And as it pains her to think it – she doesn't condone torture, even if it's against imperialistic tyrants, and Xerath's torture was less about making Azir pay for his tyranny and more a personal revenge for someone he hates – but she likes the new Azir much, much better.

Oh, well... she cannot turn back time to make so it didn't happen. But she can help him, and heal him, and maybe show him that not being an ABSOLUTE GOD-EMPEROR WITH ABSOLUTE POWER is cool actually.

As for Azir himself... well, he's never felt stronger.

#lol #league of legends #emperor azir #azir #omah azir #nasus #sivir #akshan #samira #taliyah #Azir's retinue (including himself) is six people #the seventh could either be K'Sante or Renekton #either way there MUST be a seventh #seven is the perfect number #azir's new groove

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thomascarterpd · 3 months

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10 (more) SEO Ranking Factors for Copywriters

Hey there, brilliant Brisbane copywriters and SEO-savvy wordsmiths! Remember that blog we dropped not too long ago, spilling the beans on the juiciest SEO ranking factors you need to know?

You know, the one that got everyone talking, sharing, and nodding in agreement? Oh, it was epic! But hold onto your keyboards because we’re back with a follow-up that’s going to blow your mind and take your SEO game to a whole new level! You better buckle up because “ 10 (more) SEO Ranking Factors for Copywriters “ is here, and it’s going to rock your writing world!

So, if you thought you were already a wizard at crafting top-notch content that leaves Google weak in the virtual knees, get ready to level up! We’ve got the insider scoop on even more SEO ranking factors that’ll make your copy ✨sparkle✨ and your pages soar to the top of the search charts. Oh, yes, you heard that right. It’s time to put the pedal to the metal and dive into the digital depths of SEO greatness!

But before we venture into this exhilarating SEO journey, let’s take a moment to bask in the glory of the original blog that shook the Brisbane copywriting scene. It was like a burst of creativity, a symphony of keywords, and a dance of algorithm mastery all rolled into one. Our readers couldn’t get enough of it, and the response was simply explosive. The world of SEO copywriting was never the same again!

In-depth Content

Research has shown a clear correlation between articles that cover topics in-depth and where they rank in Google. This ties in with the ranking factor of ‘content length’ but builds off it a bit more to specify that the content is covering a topic in depth, and leaving no stone unturned.

You may also see this ranking factor being referred to as ‘topical authority’. It is basically the idea that you have created a really solid body of content on a particular topic. Rather than focusing on a broad range of subject matter, the more niche your content is, the more likely it is going to rank for relevant keywords.

Magnitude of Content Updates

In my previous article, I ended my list with ‘content recency’. The magnitude of content updates can also affect your ranking as well. Adding new pages — like blogs, portfolio pages, case studies etc — each month acts as a freshness signal to Google, who favours new/updated content.

Similarly, removing whole pages or sections of your website can result in a decrease in your rankings. Therefore, it is better to update outdated content, or archive it if it is completely redundant. Avoid deleting the content outright.

Frequency of Updates

Ok, we’re getting into the minor details here, but Google keeps a running log of how frequently pages on your website are updated.

The more frequently you’re updating, the better it is for your Google performance. We have a little trick at BeKonstructive: every time we write a new educational blog article (we aim for one every week), we add a new FAQ to the bottom of one of our key landing pages (our services pages) that links through to that new blog article. Three birds with one stone — we are adding new content to our site, regularly updating key landing pages, AND improving the internal linking within our website.

Keyword Prominence

Building off of our keyword frequency and density criteria in our previous article, using the keyword in the first 100 words of your content page is correlated to performing higher in Google for that keyword or phrase. So starting each new page with an introductory paragraph or summary that outlines the key points you’re going to be talking about, is a great way to get a few keywords into that first 100 words.

Read the full article to know more about 10 (more) SEO Ranking Factors for Copywriters

#BeKonstructive #Brisbanecopywriters #Brisbanecopywriting #SEOservicesBrisbane

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shiyorin · 1 year

Text

Some sneak peek from req fics for my friends recently. I won't post full all the fics in here.

All of my friends are primarch/space marine fucker :v

(Their oc's name has been changed)

You stretched languidly against Fulgrim's chest, purring softly as slender fingers traced idly over pale skin. Such pleasures as these were fleeting, but for now the Phoenician was content to simply bask, as was their way.

"You continue to surprise, little plaything," Fulgrim mused, voice a rumble of dark velvet. His gaze traced the lines of your form with possessive pride. They had created such sublime works of art together, and would again.

"And you know I live only to surprise, my lord." You purred in reply, twisting to pepper soft kisses along Fulgrim's jaw. "To push each limit, as only I am able. Our amusements have only just begun."

Fulgrim huffed a slight laugh, curling up a lock of your hair around winding fingers. "Ever the coquette, as befitting one who moves as shadow. But know this, my dark muse, none shall claim your hand but I." His grip tightened warningly, as if to remind this amoral creature who held dominion over their perverse revels.

You merely nuzzled into the hold, grinning with feline cheer. Fulgrim's possessiveness was pleasing in its own way. And so their decadent idyll continued, careless of stellar fate or the Turning of the Great Wheel. In these stolen moments, they knew only sensual delight and sinister mirth. The games were never ending.

_________________

You curled against Perturabo's side, tracing scars on the traitor's chest. His skin bore the scars of infinite wars and conspiracies, a map of cynicism calcified into bitter flesh.

Perturabo's hand came to rest on your hip, clutching with a grim familiarity. Holding on as if to something that had once brought solace but now only reminded of all that had been lost to cruelty or indifference.

They were well-matched in their anguish. Two souls who had long since abandoned hope or purpose beyond proving, again and again, how much joy and meaning had fled this world. What once brought crusades and glory now only fetid carnage and rot.

You nuzzled against Perturabo, finding a hollow cheer in the scratch of old scars against new marks left by nails and teeth. A memento to hold when no longer sate, and all that remained was plunging into bleaker depths.

Perturabo said nothing, as was his habit. Words were the tools of fools, full of lies and false hope. Only in the rapture of flesh could meaning be glimpsed, however fleeting. And in its passing, anguish reclaimed what was always its own.

As were your way, you knows that Perturabo would remain, as he always had.

_________________

Mephiston grit his teeth, unable to look away from your sinuous movements. Each slender limb sliding free of silk and lace seemed to unveil further corruption latticed into flesh.

You sighed, dusky skin and shadows alike rippling as he slowly turned. His throat arched, Adam's apple bobbing, and Mephiston swallowed hard against a surge of yearning. Memories threatening to overtake him, of lips tracing that vulnerable curve and teeth sinking in, marking possession.

He shook himself, knuckles cracking, and gripped the arm of his throne until the pain centered his wandering thoughts. This was a torture, not seduction. There would be no pleasure to be found in your decadence, only a sin at the anguish of noble souls.

You stop. Your gaze was a languid caress, tracing the lines of Mephiston's form as a connoisseur might appraise some rare beauty. Lips twitching in a smile devoid of joy or warmth.

Mephiston trembled, rage and longing curdling within. This corruption had no right to such pulchritudinous grace. No right to make sin seem so sinfully Sweet.

You shrugged, delicate shoulders rising and falling in a sigh. "Your resolve seems weakened. Shall I continue?"

Mephiston hissed, gripping the arms of his throne until the carved stone groaned under his fingers. "Stop now!"

Your smile widened. "My dear Mephiston? Whatever for?"

You slid into a sinuous bow, gloved hands tracing the contours of his thighs in a macabre parody of modesty. "My anguished friend…."

_______________

The sight of you moving with that peculiar grace through the halls of the Fortress-Monastery stirred thoughts in Dorn that had no place dwelling within. As Primarch of the Imperial Fists, duty and discipline were his oaths to uphold, but whenever you were near, other hungers seemed to awaken.

Your presence was a balm, yet also torment. your calm, shadowed beauty a reminder of all he could never have. His devotion was to the Imperium, and to his legion, yet in private moments his thoughts drifted to more lustfull.

Dorn found himself contemplating how that grace and power might manifest in other place. How your composure might shatter under the right touches and tongues. What other sounds might escape those lips, so oft silent, if permitted utterance.

There were nights he woke sweating, arousal pulsing, remembering the feel of your gaze tracing his skin. Nights he thought he heard, in memory, the gasps and sighs of your pleasure mixing with his own.

Guilt would invariably follow such fantasies, yet still he seemed unable to forswear them. His devotion to duty wars with this new, corrupt hunger that knew no restraint.

He found himself wanting to claim you, not for honor or purpose, but for the sake of claiming. To make this shadow, this weapon, his, if only for a night. To know you as something more than a grim tool or a balm for loneliness. Flesh, not fate, binding them.

There were whispers here of corruption, yet still Dorn walks his path. A Primarch beset by dual hungers, in endless conflict. Honor and sin, duty and decadence, at war within his soul. All for the sake of a assassin who'd never know his heart, were it laid bare.

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chezzywezzy · 2 years

Text

Yandere Billy & Stu pt. 2 (1/4)

Word count ; 4.0k

*Edited.

I twisted the faucet off, taking one final glance around the shop. No more cars would be rolling in during lunch since it was lunch break. It was always a pleasant time around the shop; not because I was lazy, but because my boss, Ralph, and I got along well. We were good friends. We always had lunch together and bantered and watched television. It was a nice, normal part of my day.

I went over to the small side office and invited myself right in. Ralph was already there, bald head and dad bod basking in its glory. He was already munching on a home-packed lunch his husband always made in the morning. He gave me a hearty, mouth-full grunt as I entered.

I sat myself in the seat across from him. A small smile stretched across my face as I reached for the bag my mom always packed for me. The television had yet to be turned on. Ralph was always polite and waited for me to join him. Ralph was nice.

“‘Afternoon, Ralph,” I greeted.

Ralph sent me a grin - I failed to point out the food stuck in his teeth - and replied, ”’Sup. You know, my kiddo’s picked up this new slang term. Sup or what’s up. She said there’s a difference and tried explaining it to me and everything, but it flew right over my head, you know?”

“Well, she didn’t explain it right,” I chuckled. “What’s up is a question. ‘Sup is a greeting.”

He pursed his lips. “Darn. This old brain of mine’s gonna forget that by three.”

He reached for the remote and turned it on. We both fell silent, waiting for the other to show interest. A crab documentary; the weather station; a live concert; a basketball match. I was about to pipe up and mention that the basketball match might be interesting, but Ralph automatically paused on the a news station with a ‘Breaking News’ transition rolling across the screen.

I noisily unwrapped my sandwich, eyes glued to the television. A man and a woman came on screen. Both tensely clutched a pile of papers in their hands. The woman started, ”Early this morning at five-thirty-three, there was a mass prison riot and breakout in one of California’s largest detention centers.”

The man continued, ”The police have yet to discover who was the man strategist, however, it was clear that almost half the prison was in on it.” Some images flashed on screen of the said prison. “Many dangerous criminals managed to escape.”

“Some of them included,” the woman listed, ”Scott Watson, Malcolm Rewa, Mark Lundy, and Peter Tyson. The police have inferred that many of them have either taken refuge in national parks or stole nearby cars.”

“If you have any information on these criminals–“ A long, scrolling list of names appeared on screen–”please tell your local police department immediately. The recapture of these criminals and the safety of the public is dire.”

My brain finally started connecting the dots. A California prison filled with dangerous criminals. Could Bi - they have been a part of the escapees?

Just the thought made my entire body grow numb. The sandwich fell out of my fingers and onto the table. I hardly noticed Ralph changing the channel.

“ -/n. You alright, kiddo?”

I jumped in my seat, breaking out of my trance. Unsurely, I replied, ”Uh, yeah.”

He flashed me another grin. “Hey, don’t worry about that, kiddo. W’re all the way up here in Nevada. It’s not like there’s a reason you’d be targeted, eh?”

“…Right. No, yeah, right.” I picked up my sandwich again.

“Not much on right now. Basketball‘ll have to do,” he conceded, switching the channel back.

A comfortable silence fell over us. I managed to finish the sandwich and was about to reach for my apple when the phone suddenly rang. Ralph reached over and picked it up.

“‘Ello?”

A few seconds later, he handed the phone to me. “It’s yer mom,” he said.

Worriedly, I took the phone. She never called me during work. With furrowed brows, I greeted, ”Hey, mom, what’s up?”

“Well, I. - I was just watching the news!” she cried, the distress in her voice obvious. “A California prison break! Those bastards were in some California prison. For all we knew, they could be out there now, aching to —“

“Mom! Mom, it’s okay,” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice steady. Although I had the exact same concerns, I had to keep level-headed. Mom hadn’t been doing well since the accident; she had to quit her job because of injuries and her mental health plummeted. She became even more paranoid and was a total shut-in now. That was fine and I understood, but it served as a permanent reminder of what happened back in Woodsboro. I wanted nothing more than to sweep the memories of that hell under a rug and pretend it never happened. “Listen, if it’ll calm your nerves, I’ll stop by the police after lunch and ask which prison they were detained in. Even if… they somehow escaped… there’s no way they could find us. Alright?”

By this point, Ralph looked incredibly concerned. He’d halted his eating and was listening to the conversation intently.

“Please, be safe, Y/n. I couldn’t live without you. Promise me - if they escaped, we have to move.”

“That’s a bit drastic —“

“Promise. Me.”

I bit my lip, sending Ralph an unsure glance. “Listen, we can talk about it when I get home. We might be totally overreacting, alright? You should relax, mom. Watch some Golden Girls reruns to let out some steam, okay?”

“…Fine. I love you, honey. Be safe.”

“I love you too, mom.”

I reached across the table and returned the phone to the receiver. All of my worries had been doubled. I know my mom wasn’t the most mentally stable, but she was also just as intelligent and ingenious.

I didn’t have time to think as Ralph spoke up, ”Is everything ‘right? I know your mom’s not doing too well right now, but… is there someone who escaped from that prison?”

I bit my lip and cast my gaze away. “Well… possibly. They’re the reason we moved in the first place and the reason why mom can’t work and all that shazam…”

Ralph frowned. “Listen, it’s a Wednesday afternoon. Nobody with a work life comes in for a repair on a Wednesday afternoon. How about you take it off and go check on your mom and everything? Don’t worry, it’ll be a paid absence. The shop’s doing well.”

My heart absolutely melted. “Are you sure? I’m more than happy to stay the rest of my shift, though.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Nah. Your mom and your health ‘s important. Think nothing of it, kiddo.”

I smiled. “Thank you so much, Ralph. This means the world to me. I promise this’ll be taken care of by tomorrow.” I packed up my lunch remains and trash and grabbed my other bag that was slung across the back of the seat. My actions were rushed, betraying my anxiety.

Ralph and I bid our good-byes and I rushed out of the car mechanics shop.

~~~

“Well, Miss L/n, you’re in luck,” the officer answered. “Our system takes a while to update, but it says here that they’re located in another California prison. The only way they could have been a part of the escape riot was if they were transferred in the last week. The system updates every week. If there’s any noticeable changes in their profile in a few days, I’ll give you a call.”

I let out a sigh of relief as my entire body filtered out the tenseness. I set the phone back on the receiver. Mom finally gave me some distance, as she had been hovering behind me the entire phone call. Her distress had shrank by multitudes, but I could sense that she was still worried.

“They - they must’ve been transferred in the last week, honey. We have to go —“

I grabbed her before she could rush away to another part of the tiny home. “Mom. I know the possibilities are scary. But they haven’t escaped,” I croaked. I was on the verge of tears not because of fear, but because I couldn’t help but mourn for the woman my mother used to be - strong, moving, and my protector. “Things are okay now. We have to let go and move on. Everything’s good now. You’re allowed to breathe.”

She jerked her hand away, scowling. Her hands gripped at her thin hair and she buckled over completely. She let out a mangled scream, shaking. “That’s not true. Please, Y/n, listen to me. The system hasn’t updated —“

“Mom,” I pleaded, grabbing her from behind and pulling her into a hug. “We’re okay. We’re fine.”

She turned and began sobbing into my shoulder. My heart ached, but I pulled her over to the small couch, sitting us both down. Her sobs were muffled in my sweatshirt. I let her drown in her sorrows, her nails digging into my back desperately. Oh, how my heart ached for the woman she once was. The woman who could climb Mount Everest without fear. The woman who could be attacked at work but survive the trauma.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she cried. “I should have spent more time with you. I should have protected you from those devils. I wish I could now. I’m nothing but a burden to you.”

“That’s not true, mom,” I sighed. “I love you. I know how you feel and why you feel this way. It’s scary. When you were in the hospital, and I was scared shitless —“

“Language.”

I let out a sudden laugh. “S - sorry, sorry… I just don’t want to lose you. And I won’t. We’re safe now. We’re not victims. They’re in prison and we’re free. We shouldn’t waste time worrying, or they’d just be smug about it.”

“I know you’re right. I just have a bad feeling about it all. I can’t shake it off…”

“It’s stress. It’s PTSD. But it’s not them. They’re locked away in a prison cell seething. Let them rot. But don’t let yourself rot.”

“But - your poor, poor friends. Sidney, that other girl, that boy… All of your classmates, dead,” she heaved. “It could’ve been you next.”

“But it wasn’t. And it won’t be. Mom, we’re alright now. I love you so, so much.”

“I - I love you too, honey.”

She pulled away, wiping her tears with trembling hands. “I… I should get started on dinner. You must be tired. How about you put on Jeopardy?”

“Yeah, no problem.” I squeezed her hand reassuringly one more time, letting her disappear into the small kitchen. I turned on the television and began flipping through the channels. Jeopardy was on.

~~~

I slung my purse over my shoulder just as knocking sounded from my front door. Mom was in the bathroom and I already told her I was going out with Sally and Purdue. I know that she never approved of them, saying they were shallow and uncouth, but… well, I agreed. We met at the local bar, which said enough about our friendship as it was. To say the least, it was the only place we hung out.

I pulled on my shoes and swung the door open. As expected, Sally was driving her expensive sports car that I’d actually worked on a few times. She was very irresponsible and very rich. Purdue had taken the passenger seat, the window rolled down. She was waving at me with her neatly pedicured hands.

I checked my purse for everything one more time before joining them. I slid into the back seat, slinging my arms around the front where Purdue was. She clasped my hands.

“I can’t believe that crazy mom of yours lets you go anywhere,” Sally complained. “My parents are even worse. No idea why. What is it with this generation’s parents being total clingy psychos?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re the reason this car has a permanent dent on its hood,” Purdue sneered.

“It was only a few times! Not my fault I was a little drunk.”

“It’s directly your fault your fault that you were a lot drunk,” I added. “I fear for my life every time I get in the car with you.”

“Ditto.”

Sally pouted and began driving. The local bar wasn’t too far away; it was only a few blocks’ drive, which is why after a night of drinking, I preferred to walk home, especially with Sally at the wheel. Purdue was at least a smidge more responsible than her.

When we entered the bar, we wasted no time warming up with shots. We spared no small talk; it hurt, but we all knew that we didn’t care enough to drawl to one another about our personal lives. ‘How was work?’ or ‘Have you gone on any dates recently?’ were questions that had not once passed any of our lips. It was alright, though; our mutual friendship served one purpose and one purpose only. We were drinking buddies.

“You know, that guy over there keeps looking at you.”

Sally and I peered over our shoulders. A few seats down the bar was a young man with straight black hair and tan skin. The way he held his glass displayed class and soberness, but his clothes were casual and made him blend in with the crowd of rednecks.

He was making eye contact with us - more so, with Sally. I looked back to my glass of bourbon, paying the man no heed. Sally, though, was seemingly entranced with the handsome stranger.

“Don’t tell me you thought he was looking at you for a second, did you, Y/n?” Purdue giggled, swatting my hand playfully from a seat away. Sally was sitting between us, but Purdue’s long arms and two inch nails scratched my skin.

Sally bit her lip, downing the rest of her beer. “God, and here I was, thinking that you two ugly bitches made me look so bad guys stopped being interested,” she giggled.

I rolled my eyes at her drunken arrogance. “Well, from one ugly bitch to another, why don’t you go talk to him?” I recommended, waving at her dismissively.

Purdue nudged her shoulder. “Yeah, bitch. Go get yourself a man, why don’t you? The plastic surgery’s clearly done you some good.”

Sally gasped, feigning offense, but hopped out of her seat. Purdue and I watched eagerly as she strolled toward the mystery man. I ordered another round of drinks while we waited for the pair to stop flirting and join us again - if they would, that is. I noticed that every time I glanced over at them, though, the man’s glance shifted to me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. I could only hope Sally wasn’t making a fool of herself over there.

“Hey,” Purdue spoke up. “You’re quieter than usual.”

I shrugged. “Just home stress. Even alcohol can’t stop me from worrying about my mom.”

She tilted her head, scooting to sit next to me. “I mean… if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here. If you don’t mind me asking… What exactly is she so mental about? It’s like she’s completely looney. Doesn’t even work.”

I had to withhold myself from rolling my eyes. “She’s not looney. Just traumatized. Being stabbed in the abdomen and her only remaining family, aka me, almost dying to gore-obsessed psychos has left her scarred. We keep going in circles. Every week it’s like she’s brand new and recovered, and then all it takes is one thing - a glance at a knife, an open window, the ringing of our phone - to send her spiraling back into despair.”

I was surprised by Purdue’s affection as she squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be alright.”

I strained a smile. “Yeah. I know it is. It’s just hard to make her know it, too.”

The conversation dimmed once more. Our stares returned to the man and Sally. She confidently had her arm around his shoulders. I could tell by her mannerisms that she was attempting to pull him over to us. How thrilling, another stranger to join our midst.

The man rose to his feet while Sally eagerly clutched his arm and pulled him our direction. His gaze was glued to me as they approached. I sent him a glare, going back to my drink instead.

“Girls-s-s, this is Daniel,” Sally cheered. Purdue scooted closer to me as the pair sat down beside us. I yawned in reply while Purdue sent a cunning, seductive smile, placing her hand on Sally’s shoulder.

“Lovely to meet you, Daniel. A shame I didn’t beat her too it —“

“Shut the fuck up, girl. You’re the one who told me to get his ass over here,” Sally slurred. She was always the first one to get drunk. It baffled me how she could get all that after a couple of drinks.

Daniel grinned at us. “Hello. Daniel Johnson. You ladies having a fun night?”

“Woo-o-o, damn right we are, hottie —“

“Sorry about her,” Purdue interrupted, knocking Sally upside the head. “She’s a light drinker. I’m Purdue.”

“No, but I might need a ride home after this.”

Purdue and Daniel shook hands. I could feel Daniel's stare burning into the side of my head. I couldn’t help but down my drink.

“And who’s this pretty lady?”

Purdue smacked my arm, shaking me out of my thoughts. “Y/n, I know you’re a moody bitch but be nice. Sally’s one-night-stand’s trying to make small talk.”

I quirked a brow. “Well, you already know my name thanks to Purdue. Nice to meet you, Daniel. Well, not really, since your business isn’t with me.”

Purdue’s glare was burning my flesh, but I remained cool and composed. Sally, as though sensing the tenseness through her drunken state, suddenly slapped Daniel’s back. “Hey, be my one-night-stand. Let’s ditch these lo-o-osers.”

Daniel laughed, clutching her hand. “I barely know you, Sally. Besides, your friends seem nice. Y/n… Haven’t I heard that name from somewhere before?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can take my name and shove it up your ass —“

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Sally shouted, gaining the attention of some surrounding visitors. I cringed. Whenever we played truth or dare, it always went to hell. But two drunk girls are more stubborn than one half-sober one - and now, a creepy stranger -, so there’d be no reason to argue with them.

Purdue clasped her hands together. “Oh really? Fine then you hoe, you’re goin’ first. Truth or dare?”

“Only if you go next, girl. Dare, obviously,” Sally answered. “Give me, like, a hot one. I want to make out with this sexy guy.”

“You flatter me.”

There was something off about him. Maybe it was his composure, or maybe it was my mood. But he was at a bar, and he wasn’t flirty, light-hearted, or dead drunk. Who the hell came to a bar just to just be hot and mysterious anyways?

Purdue snickered. “Fine, fine. I’ll make your wish come true. Sorry, Danny, but this ugly toad’s going to make out with you now.”

Sally wasted no time, swinging her arms around Daniel’s neck and pulling him into a passionate, slobbery make-out session. He was exuding discomfort, and for a moment, I thought ‘same.’ Even Purdue and I exchanged knowing glances. Her conniving, toxic smiles weren’t directed at me anymore.

Daniel finally push Sally away. He had lipstick smears all over his face and he was quick to snatch a napkin and wipe his face. Sally had an irreplaceable grin. “Purdue, you’re doing a dare. I don’t even care. How about - how about…” She paused for a moment. “I don’t know. Y/n, bestie, help me out here!”

I hummed, placing my head in the palm of my hand. “Well, that dare was boring as fuck, and I know Purdue ain’t no pussy, so… Hey, how about you call that previous fling you had? Jordan, wasn’t it? Sound all depressed and sad and tell him that you miss him. The guy absolutely worshipped the ground you walked on.”

Purdue grinned. “You were supposed to give me a dare. Nothing would pleasure me more.”

She searched through her purse, eventually pulling out her clunky cell phone. She scanned her contacts before clicking on ‘creepy stalker sexy guy.’ She turns it speaker so that we could hear it ringing, even over the yelling drunkards surrounding us at the bar.

The thing was… I kind of wanted to wipe the memory out of my head. By the end of the phone call that went on way too long, I just ended up feeling bad for the guy. Purdue broke the man’s heart by leading up with fake flattering compliments and ‘I miss you’s just to laugh in his face and tell him he was only worth his dick.

Man, I was friends with assholes.

Purdue hung up, a sadistic and satisfied smile on her face. She turned to me again. “How fun. I always love it when I make a man cry.”

Daniel didn’t emote in the slightest while Sally was roaring with laughter clinging onto the man for dear life. I thought it was strange that even though us girls kept ordering drinks, he didn’t even touch one of ours, keeping completely sober.

Good on him… But that’s pretty shady.

“W - wait, it’s Y/n’s turn to go now! After that, there’s no way you wouldn’t do a dare, right girl? As long as you don’t make out with my man,” Sally encouraged, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Daniel’s nose scrunched. “I wouldn’t mind a kiss from a pretty girl.”

Both mine and Purdue’s jaws dropped while Sally was losing it in the way that drunk girls do. Limply beating his chest, she cursed at him before finally pushing away. She stumbled into Purdue’s arms instead, sobbing incoherently about how ‘u-ly bi-thes aw-ays tee her man.’ Now that was rather amusing.

“Well, Y/n, truth or dare?” Purdue sighed, Sally having passed out on her shoulder, even though she was still standing.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Daniel, you made her faint. I’m fucking tired, so… I’ll just go with a tru - truth.”

I regretted it instantly when Purdue, the sick bitch she was, developed a smirk. She suddenly pushed Sally over her and forced Daniel to catch her before she tumbled to the ground completely. Daniel was becoming obviously annoyed with every passing second, but we both knew he couldn’t abandon his night duty of keeping a drunk flirt from breaking a leg.

“Well, you know, I’ve always wondered… I’ve seen those two guys’ faces on the news. They’re both pretty cute.”

My stomach began to churn. She couldn’t mean… She wouldn’t go that far, would she?

“A simple question, really. Out of what’s-their-faces, Billy and Stu… who’s more fuckable? Like, I know they were murderers and everything, but they were your friends. No way in hell you didn’t have a wet dream about one of them before the whole almost-killing-you thing.”

I clenched my fist. My mind went blank. Daniel was staring at me, too, as though he’d finally recognized me. This was karma for setting that poor guy, Jordan, up, wasn’t it? But this humiliation was far, far worse. You’d think the woman, as cunning and clever as she was, would know when she was going too far.

“…Are you seriously asking me that?”

She waved her hand dismissively before pushing an entire bottle of beer toward me. “Answer or drink. You know the rules. Or are you too much of a pussy to be honest with your best friend?”

I chuckled dryly. “I guess I am. Bottle’s up.” I snatched the bottle, toasting. I went to drink, and Purdue looked oh-so disappointed.

Before the lid could meet my mouth, with one swish of the arm, I began pouring the bottle all over her. She let out a scream of fury, but I relished watching the alcohol stream down her caked face and staining her white cry top.

Calm and collected, not paying anyone else any heed and ignoring Purdue’s screaming in my ear, I grabbed my purse and walked away.

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emeraldties · 2 years

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A puppet and it’s master: Barnaby and Maverick

Look at me, I’m here again psychoanalyzing Tiger and Bunny and their subsequent Daddy Issues and Hero worshipping problems. Sorry. Not really. But sorry. Strap in cause this is a long one.

There is something really interesting about their relationship and the way Maverick just... throws Barnaby away in the last episodes of season 1, and the way Barnaby (in season 2) still keeps a photo of himself and Maverick.

In season 1, Barnaby, to Maverick, is a well-conditioned pet.

When you have the power to change the very essence of a human being, pick out the parts that are unnecessary and add things that are, they all become dolls after a while. That's why he was able to let go of Barnaby so quickly. He never saw him as human, just another puppet.

Maverick relies on subtlety. Barnaby already had a vague framework of a loving household, so to go against that outwardly would put his conditioning in jeopardy. He uses his powers as a last resort. And he's conditioned Barnaby well enough for him to move out, go to the Hero Academy, and talk to other people. To live a semi-regular adult life (other than the fact that his penthouse is a gift from Maverick and his paycheck is also Maverick’s to give). Because he still has that emotional collar fastened around Barnaby's neck. He doesn't need to choke him with it, all he needs to do is tug on the leash, and Barnaby comes running.

He's given Barnaby just enough autonomy to believe that he, himself is somehow defective and broken, not Maverick's methods. It keeps him compliant and distracted, and leaves Barnaby trusting the reality Maverick had inflicted upon him at a young age.

Regarding Barnaby's relationship with Maverick. It definitely falls more under the lines of emotional abuse. In regards to season 1, I think there is a part of Barnaby that wants to move on, to live normally, but his need for revenge overweighs every other want or need.

He's been taught that love, at least with Maverick, is conditional. It's about what he can do for him, how he can repay him, how to make him proud, and how he can make Maverick's show look good. Then, and only then, will he receive a modicum of affection back. This is exemplified in the way that after Jake is dead, and Barnaby thinks that he’s gotten his revenge does he pivot to another goal; making Maverick proud.

I know some people have theorized that this was another bout of brain-washing, but I don’t think it is. I think Maverick’s choices and Barnaby’s have blurred to the point where there is no need for obtrusive brain-washing when Barnaby is already conditioned enough to act out Maverick’s desired response with nothing but a couple of kind words. That makes their relationship even more insidious because now, us, as the viewer, call into question Barnaby’s free will. How much of this was his own decision? What is a puppet without its strings? What happens next?

He's grown up with that mindset since he was 3, and his relationships with other people reinforce that preconceived notion of love. That as long as he's charming, well-spoken and good-looking people will love him. As long as he exemplifies perfection there is nothing he can’t do except the things he wants to do the most; kill his parents’ murderers. He was the Hero Academy’s star, the King of Heroes, and overall a squeaky clean and charming image, and it has gotten him far in life. I wouldn't say that he consciously understands that that is what he's doing, and he doesn't necessarily obsess over public opinion (although he does bask in the glory lol). It's just something that has been a constant in his life other than revenge.

Also... how Barnaby keeps a picture of him and Maverick of the say he debuted as a hero on his table. I hope we get to see more of Barnaby’s internal struggle in the second part of season 2. I won’t speak on that yet because there’s not a lot of evidence to make a full post out of it, but the implications are WILD.

#tiger & bunny #Barnaby Brooks Jr #tiger and bunny #tiger and bunny meta #Mr. Maverick slander is encouraged #Much less rambling and more psychoanalyzing a fictional pretty boy #meta #tnb #i just think he's neat #meta is just another word for daddy issues

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queen-yalo · 2 years

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Naruto | The Legend of Blue Moon [#1: The Old Man's Story] | Madara Uchiha x fem!reader

A/N: This has been sitting in the back of my head for ages. Time to get it out. Hope you enjoy! ♥

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x fem!reader (Reader has a a given name, but no physical description!)

Genre: No-Jutsu AU (is that a thing?)

Warnings: -

Words: 0.9k

Chapters: #1 |

Tags: @katzekage

•

“Can you tell me a story, grandfather?”

Madara opened his eyes slowly, squinting from the sudden brightness. He had retreated into his quarters earlier, sitting in his armchair right by the window, basking in the warmth of the morning sunlight. He needed to think in silence and solitude. Of course, his grandson would have none of it. Obito was far too curious and active to cherish quiet times. Madara had heard the pitter patter of the child’s small feet long before the boy actually opened the door.

“I have already told you three stories today.” He answered quietly, shifting to sit up a little straighter in his seat. “The sun is shining, and the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. Go outside and play with your siblings, Obito.”

The young boy pouted up at his grandfather. “But I want to hear another story…” He mumbled, tugging on Madara’s sleeve gently. “Please…”

Madara sighed deeply. “Alright.” He answered, letting Obito climb into his lap. “You’re annoying, you know that?” He grumbled, leaning back in his chair again. “That’s why I’m your favorite, grandpa!” Obito answered proudly, a huge grin plastered on his small, chubby face.

The old man smiled. “Well, you’re not wrong…” He whispered, ruffling the boy’s hair gently. Obito’s cheeks turned pink as he beamed up at his grandfather. He was the youngest of Madara’s grandchildren, and indeed the one he held the dearest.

“What kind of story would you like?” He asked, waiting for Obito to settle into a comfortable position. As usual, the boy let himself fall against Madara’s chest, expecting his grandfather full well to cover them both with the woolen blanket that had been Madara’s for decades already. Of course, Madara complied.

“Tell me a story of old times.” The boy mumbled, looking up at his grandfather.

Old times. It still felt unreal.

Madara was incredibly fit for his age. He was not the typical 89-year-old man. He was still in possession of a healthy body and mind; he was still sparring and sword-fighting occasionally – just for fun. Still, the boy was right. His glory days were old times. His youth was long gone.

“I have told you all the stories I know, Obito.” Madara said quietly, closing his eyes again. “That’s not true, grandpa…” The young one answered, sitting up slowly. “You have never told me the story of your katana. You know, the one you never use…”

Madara tensed up and snapped his eyes open. Obito was staring at the wall behind them, and the old man too, turned around to look up at the katana. Between two shelves and over the picture of Madara’s father, was the object in question. A beautifully crafted katana. Black blade, white handle, and a red tassel dangling from the sheath that was decorated with golden ornaments. “Truly a unique weapon…” Madara whispered, settling back into the chair.

“Tell me, grandfather!” Obito urged, his fingers digging into Madara’s kimono.

Madara had never talked about it. Too severe was the pain, too deep the wound that resulted in him gaining possession over the sword. It was a story from his glory days, the age of war and conflict. The age of samurai and assassins.

“They called her… Aoitsuki. The Blue Moon.”

The words were heavy on Madara’s lips. It had been almost six decades since he last said her name. But the memories of her were still vivid, haunting him every single day.

“She was beautiful.”

Obito giggled and let himself fall against Madara’s chest again. “Were you in looooove, grandpa?”

Madara hummed, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll tell you the story, Obito.” He whispered, pulling the blanket over Obito’s shoulders again.

“It all started on a winter night. I was still a young man back then, not even 30 years old. The war was over and Konoha was blooming, marking the beginning of an era of peace. My father and brother decided to indulge in yet another round of shogi…”

Madara had never liked that game much. He could be persuaded to participate in a game of go. But shogi? He sighed and closed the book he was reading, putting it back into the shelf where it belonged. It had started snowing again, and it would likely continue to do so all night. It was late already, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. Thick, heavy clouds covered the pitch-black night sky; the glass from the windows unable to keep out the cold. Madara had rarely seen such a cruel and persistent winter.

“Don’t you want to join us, oniisan?” Izuna grinned, knowing full well about Madara’s dislike for the game they were playing. “No.” Madara answered nonchalantly. “I’m going for a walk.”

The cold air was biting your skin as you made your way through the snow. One with the forest, you made your way to the village where your next target lived. It was quiet, not a single soul, man or animal, around at this time of the day. The snow crunched underneath your feet, the pendants and tassels hanging from your straw hat rattled and chimed rhythmically – it was strangely peaceful.

Your hand found the scroll attached to your obi. Your contract, with the name and description of your target. S-Rank-Mission. That is why the client chose you specifically. You were the best in what you did.

It was dawn when you reached the village in the Land of Fire. Konohagakure. It seemed peaceful, hidden between the forests and mountains. “What a shame…” You mumbled as you made your way to the gates. You would have loved to stay there longer, but you had a job to do, a contract to fulfill.

Tajima Uchiha must die.

#madara uchiha #madara uchiha x reader #madara x reader #madara uchiha story #naruto story #x reader #naruto shippuuden #naruto #uchiha x reader #uchiha story #uchiha

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zukuist · 3 years

Text

first selfie [hcs]

“you send them a full faced selfie for the first time in your relationship, after skating around the idea”

fandom/s: 僕のヘロアカデミア // boku no hero academia [bnha]

PART ONE (CURRENT) • PART TWO

includes: e. kirishima, k. bakugō, s. todoroki

your name is shortened to y/n, gender neutral

side note: yeah <3 my drafts are building up sooo.. i should probably upload all of those finished drafts (soon, anyway)

kirishima eijirō

let’s be real, he’s always wanted a pretty little selfie of you even if it’s just one.. or a dozen of them.

he’d be grateful of anything you sent him

it first started off simple with a mirror selfie, one of you leaning on your desk, with your phone covering your face

much to eijirō’s dismay

and from that point on, you’ve been sending him pictures of yourself consistently

though for the first few times, you’ve been showing him only a peek of your face, not allowing him to bask in your glory

fully, anyway

until one day, he was well.. attempting to study. he normally can’t be productive in studying, if he’s by himself

but you were out of town for a few days, due to a family meeting. he remembers you saying it was ‘super important and i can’t skip it out’

and the angry blond was out training angrily, and though he’d normally be fearless, he knows well not to bother him too much anyway

really, he was this 🤏 close to falling asleep. notebook on his lap, and the cozy atmosphere failing on giving his body some motivation to stay awake

until he hears a few ‘ping!’s coming from his phone, and eijirō jolts awake, immediately checking who it was

it was you, of course it was you, but the contents of your text message did catch him by surprise and the good kind of surprise

the picture you sent was a beautiful, beautiful selfie of your face in full view. the lighting may not be perfect but.. you sure are.

he’s ecstatic. eijirō rubs the lingering sleepiness away from his eyes, wondering if he’s just hallucinating that you’ve just sent him a full faced selfie

plot twist, he’s not

he jumps up from the position he’s in, switches on a proper light, and starts walking vigorously in circles

he jumps, absolutely elated, his heart’s racing at such speed ‘today’s my lucky day, wow!’ he repeats the last word frequently, like a mantra.

“the fuck are you doing?”

it doesn’t seem like it’s been a while. and a voice interrupts the gleeful moment, without much hesitation. it was just that easy

he stops in his tracks, and he sees his best friend at the door, staring at.. whatever he was doing

“how long have you been there?”

“i don’ know, five minutes?” the angry blond squints his eyes in similar bakugō fashion “you begged for me to help you study your ass off, remember?”

“oh, i did.”

“now snap out of it, you simp. the picture ain’t going anywhere.” bakugō stares at his phone

and the faux red head’s cheeks flush red

bakugō katsuki

he’s pretty.. indifferent about them. it’s not something he needs to have for survival.

i mean, if it was anyone else sending him unsolicited selfies of themselves, he’d block them without hesitation 😃

but i suppose.. one picture from you wouldn’t hurt. though he’d never actually admit that out loud

besides, if he’s going to have a picture of you, let it be a selfie that you’ve sent to him

because if someone were to catch him staring at a picture that was from your instagram..

he’d never live that down, because he says that he’s not following you anywhere. oh, and that person’s gonna get blown away

the first time he received a picture of you, it had him thinking. do you know what calm bakugō looks like?

that was his reaction

the first time was again, quite similarly to kirishima, a mirror selfie, with your phone covering your face

the first thing he thought when he saw the picture was why is your phone blocking out your face?

and second, are you teasing him or something? sending him a picture, only for the most important part to be blocked out.

he finally replies after 15 minutes, “stop sending me this shit” yet, he doesn’t block you, nor does he seem to mean what he said.

he forces himself to sleep, in furious katsuki fashion.

and you’d only continue to send him weekly updates from then on, despite his harsh words stating that you should ‘quit sending pictures of your shitty face’

your boyfriend still makes an effort to check them out everyday. he’s just.. letting you be, even though his eyes narrow into slits when he sees that the picture doesn’t include your face.

it’s around 6pm on a thursday, when he receives a text message during his training, the loud buzz interrupting him.

the blond grumbles, wondering out loud on “who the hell could be texting me right now?”

initially, he was going to ignore it, until he sees that it’s you. if there was anyone that knew about his training the most, it would be you.

a picture is attached to your text message, and he rolls his eyes. “don’t tell me, it’s another picture of themselves..”

but he’s taken by surprise, his expression faltering when he sees your face in full view.

“what the hell..”

those absolutely beautiful eyes of yours stare into the camera, and you’re dressed in your cozy pajamas.

‘i know you’re training right now, but i wanted to send this, so you could have something to look at when you’re done!!’

he’s left staring in silence, his eyes run over the picture a few more times, wanting to memorize every single thing about the selfie.

katsuki saves the picture, importing it to the secret camera app that has 2 passcodes, and he quickly gathers his things, wanting to get to your room as fast as he could.

‘i’m coming over, now.’

todoroki shōto

the importance of having a significant other’s picture didn’t really.. cross his mind?

i mean, the two of you have pictures together but that’s all it is. most of them being class photos, and pictures of the two of you with your friends

but those don’t really count, do they?

as the relationship hit the one month mark, he found himself subconsciously searching for pictures of you, whenever he was missing your presence.

only to find that he didn’t have much to work with. lacking what he really needed to see, which was your face

yeah sure, he could just.. ask? but how is he supposed to word ‘hey, i want you to send pictures of yourself’ into well.. more fitting words?

and purely by chance, his phone snapped him out of his contemplation.

you’ve sent him a picture of yourself, the plushie he bought for you covering everything but your eyes, with the context of

‘just felt like updating you :)) i hope today goes well for you <3’

did they know that he wanted a picture of you?

he replies back in an instant, with a simple ‘thank you. <3’ as it sounds cryptic, it’s really not.

from that point, shōto assumed that the regular updates from you, would be enough for him. he’d take anything, as long as you’re in them

but he’s wrong, super wrong. shōto must’ve underestimated his neediness.

the fire and ice quirk user initially thought that you were just skating around the idea of sending a full faced selfie

however, you’ve went from sending faceless selfies, to just sending pictures with just half of your face in them.

so.. maybe not?

shōto eventually drew to the conclusion that he just.. needed to ask, out loud.

“love, can i ask you something?” he asks, right before you were about to doze off in his hold

“sure, go ahead,” you partially slur, trying your best to stay awake

“can’t you just.. send me a picture of yourself?—.”

“oh but.. don’t i already do that?” your eyes twinkle at him, when you reply

“no like.. i want a picture, of your entire face.”

you sigh in relief, and you hum triumphantly, hearing exactly what you’ve wanted. “if that’s what you want, i’ll definitely consider it”

a week passes, and shōto’s sitting in his room by himself. when you’ll send him another update, he doesn’t know.

and then, a ding cuts through the silence of his room, and he quickly moves to check who it’s from.

“oh?”

your heterochromatic boyfriend stares at his phone’s screen, eyes softly fluttering, as he looks at the picture you’ve sent him.

it’s.. a selfie. now, he can clearly see almost everything he ever wanted to see. from each mark on your face, to the intricate details of your eyes.

‘do you like it? :))’ ‘i definitely should’ve done this a while back, pretty boy <3’

he texts back, ‘i love it.’

it is what he wanted. in fact, as soon as he saves the picture into his camera roll, shōto moves to make copies of it.

and the next time you visit his room, he’ll have a framed picture of that selfie, sitting on his desk delicately.

“shōto, you printed out my simple selfie?”

“but.. it’s your selfie. of course i’m going to print it out :]”

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bakubabes-tatakae · 3 years

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Request by @clovertitan: Congratulations Harlie 💖 May I request for the 2K event prompt no. 4 from Choice 1 and Prompt no. 32 from Choice 3 for Enji Todoroki please? 😊

I’m sorry this took me so long to get out to you lovey. 🥺 But I hope you like it. It’s my first ever Endeavor piece so I’m hoping that I got his character down for you. 😬🙃

The Flames Of Passion || {NSFW} Endeavor x fem!Reader

AO3 Link

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, dirty talk, language, choking, hotel sex, spicy endeavor

Word Count: 1.7k

You watched as the flames of the man that you had fallen in love with burned bright into the night around him. You had never seen him show more expression than when he stood on that stage and was announced as the new number one hero.

You smiled and raised your champagne glass as it was announced and watched the smug grin spread. It might not have looked like much to the people around him, but you knew that he was beaming with pride.

Enji hadn’t liked the way he had won the spot of number one hero, but he was determined to make All Might proud of him, he was determined to make his sacrifice worth it.

Your eyes locked for a quick moment and you shared in the glory together.

As the ceremony came to and end you saw the large, bulky figure of the hero approaching your table. It was time to bask in the glory as the two of you left together. You knew how Enji felt about showing you off to the world, despite how nervous it made you at times. Enji wanted everyone to know that you belonged to none other than the Pro Hero Endeavor. No one would mess with you that way.

You slowly stood as Enji reached his hand out toward you, grasping it gently in your own as you stared into the eyes of the man that had become the most important thing in your life. But when you met his eyes you noticed something coming from them that you hadn’t seen in a while.

That fire.

The fire the burned in him when the two of you had very first met. The fire that had given you one of the best weekends of you life when you had agreed to take that trip with him. The fire that had subsided as you both settled into a civilian life together.

So when you started to walk out together and felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to his side your heart started to beat out of your chest. He walked slower as he turned his face and spoke ever so softly into your ear, careful not to let anyone else hear him. “I can’t wait to get to our room and show you just what the number one hero is capable of, darling.” A chuckle left him as he continued, loving the fact that you were turning to a puddle. “I’ll make you feel better than I’ve ever made you feel before.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you looked over at him, trying to keep yourself calm. You swallowed hard and put on the best grin that you could manage.

Enji loosened his grip on you and you walked a little faster, heading for the exit of the arena, wanting nothing more than to get back to your hotel room. He noticed the change in your demeanor and smirked at you. “You’re blushing.”

Your face grew even warmer as he pointed out that small fact, but the door of the limousine in front of you opened and Enji moved you toward it. You slowly climbed in and watched as camera flashes triggered around you. Enji turned to the crowd and waved with a smile before climbing in to join you.

As he settled in and the door closed behind him his hands wandered your body, not even waiting for the limousine to start moving. His hand reached over for the small button that closed the window between the driver and the back seat, leaving the man with only three words. “Driver, hotel please.”

* * * * * *

The empty hallways of your hotel surprised you, you had half expected for the halls to be filled with people leaving the arena to get some rest for the night. But with the way that Enji’s hands still wandered your body as he reached the hallway you knew that he had to have planned it this way.

And like he was reading your thoughts, he spoke. “Don’t worry, my love.” His lips lightly touched the side of your neck as your walk slowed, you knees growing weaker by the moment. “Nobody else from the arena is staying here, at least not anybody that really matters. Our hotel is too out of the way for most heroes.”

And that’s when it hit you. The ride to it had been much longer than you had expected it to be. Enji Todoroki... always thinking about these things when you hadn’t even thought about them yourself.

You saw your room number appearing in your vision and noticed Enji grabbing the card key, wasting no time. As you reached the door his strong arms wrapped around you from behind, slowly pushing himself up against you as he flashed the card in front of the door handle. The green light told the two of you that the room was ready for use. You were so close.

Enji lifted you from the floor and walked through the entryway, using his foot to close the door behind you. But he didn’t set you back down there. You felt your dress pull up, exposing the lace panties that you dawned underneath. As you felt yourself being lowered you realized that you were heading straight for the dresser.

Enji placed you down and his hand wandered between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. “Forget this chit chat. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Large fingers found their way to your panting, slowly sliding over the fabric, soaked with your arousal already. A small whine escaped your lips and your head dropped behind you. “F-fuck.”

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a writhing mess.” The confidence behind his smile as you opened your eyes slightly drove you crazy. “Just the way I like you.”

His fingers pushed your panties to the side and slowly slid into you, giving you a second to adjust to his size. Pleasure began to course through you as his fingers moved swiftly in and out of you. Your walls slowly began to close around his fingers, causing his movements to slow some as he brought you to your high.

And as you cunt clenched around them and your slick coated him, a grin spread across his face. Enji’s eyes met your own as he lifted his hand so that you could see your slick coating his fingers. “Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” He chuckled as he watched you open for him, knowing that’s exactly what he wanted you to do. “I think my needy little girl wants just that.”

As he pulled his fingers from your mouth his eyes looked even more devious. You reached forward for him, wanting to grab him and pin him to the bed, but you felt yourself being lifted from the dresser.

Enji sauntered toward the windows that completely made up the side of your hotel room that faced the city. As he placed you down your hands touched the glass and you felt your dress being pulled up again. The sound of a belt buckle behind you told you that he was ready for you.

His body pressed against you, pushing you against the glass as a small kiss was placed on the back of your neck. “I want the entire city of Musutafu to see what Endeavor is capable of. Let them see just how much it pays off to be mine.”

Enji’s knee pushed between your legs and pushed them apart, the feeling of his cock rubbing against your folds as he searched for your entrance making you even weaker at the knees.

Enji held you up as he thrust himself into you, all your senses loosing control as you tried to keep your cool. The lights of the city before you left a glow in the dark room behind you. Every roll of his hips leaving you speechless, the need to call out his name growing with every passing second.

His grunts mixed with your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small hotel room. A large part of you hoped that nobody on the ground below could see you, but there was a small part of you that hoped that they did.

You could feel your second orgasm of the night approaching you faster than you wanted it to. And you knew that he wasn’t far behind you by the pace he pounded into you. His hips slowed and his hand reached around you, grasping at your throat, pulling you as close to him as he could.

The world shattered around you as your orgasm took over all your senses, your vision turning white. You had tried to hard to hold it back, but every movement hit just the right spots as his girth filled you. Just the feeling of your slick coating his cock made him lose himself as well. A strangled sound came from the back of his throat as he emptied himself inside your cunt.

Enji slowly pulled himself away, his hand running down your back as he knelt down behind you, watching the mixture of your arousal and his cum drip down your inner thigh. His thumb slowly slid up your leg, wiping it away before standing back up. His grasp met your arm as he spun you around to face him. “You’re dripping, stuffed so full of me. But I don’t think that’s enough, do you?”

You were unsure what to say. Enji was usually a one and done kind of guy, but something was different about him tonight.

His grasp on your arm spun you toward the bed, pushing you back against it, balling your dress up into his hands and lifting it over you head. “We’re not done until I’m satisfied that you can’t hold anymore of me.”

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @ellechanwrites @bonnisimpparker @impinthecloset @nikiniki743 @taliyahvermillion @maat-the-prescriptive

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mintugiyuu · 3 years

Text

> here’s the final part of your request @kyojoroo ! I’m so sorry it’s in two different parts, but I learned for the first time that these text boxes have a limit lmao, again I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! <3

༄ we have to stop meeting like this - continued

sfw one-shot

➥ pairing || rengoku kyojurou x reader

➥ au || modern day; college

➥ warnings || cheesy, tooth-rotting fluff with extra cheese

➥ synopsis || the reader keeps bumping into the one and only rengoku kyojurou; only instead of just casually seeing him over and over again, they quite literally bump into him in the most inconvenient ways possible. (cont.)

➥ part one || click here!

༄ the mediterranean sea collection - masterlist

Today had to be one of the worst days in your life. Freezing, drenched, and newly homeless, you tucked yourself onto the bus stop bench. Lucky you, this one didn't even have an awning to protect you from the elements.

The rain had no pity for your predicament as it pelted your body, the light clothing doing close to nothing for you. Summer had just come, yet the night rainfall seemed to have brought an unexpected chill.

Not to mention the suitcase and duffle bag you had with you were now also getting soaked.

You could only hope nothing was too waterlogged.

Your hand did little to protect your dying phone from getting wet as you tried to search for the nearest place to stay. Motel, hotel, air B'N'B; anything in range to get you off the streets for the night.

You had a feeling this would happen, and boy were kicking yourself for not seeing the red flags and preparing sooner.

Not having enough savings for a dorm, you had signed a contract with the residents of an apartment to rent out one of the rooms for cheap.

The agreement only lasted for two semesters, but they had promised that you'd be able to renew it once summer rolled around.

"Promise my ass." You grumbled, remembering how the original owner had gotten a partner. In return, they refused to let you sign another contract so they would have space for the "love of their life".

You saw the signs; you saw how their stuff slowly moved into the apartment and all the time they were spending there.

You just didn't think they'd be shitty enough people to kick you out the moment your contract ended.

A gust of icy wind rolled through, causing another shudder to rack your body. The closest place wasn't in walking distance, and it was far to late for the buses to be running. Sighing, you shut off your phone and closed your eyes.

You had resigned yourself to walk the several blocks to the nearest 24/7 fast food place to at least get out of the rain.

That was until the rain fall suddenly stopped beating down on you. The rain couldn't have stopped though, you could still hear it. You blinked your eyes open and looked up, surprised to what - or more accurately, who - you saw.

"...Kyojurou?"

Standing there in all his warmth and glory, Kyojurou looked down at you with concern, holding a bright red umbrella over your soaked form.

He couldn't seem to help the small smile that graced his lips at the sound of his first name.

"I'd be happier that you finally used my name if you didn't look so sad and drenched."

A humorless snort escaped your lips as you hugged yourself, shivering slightly. "Timing always has my side doesn't it? I'm just about to head to the closest food place to get out of the rain, so don't worry about it."

"Why?"

"I got kicked out," you shrugged, looking to the ground.

"This late at night?"

"It surprised me too. They found a new roommate and wouldn't let me renew my contract for the next school year, and it just so happens it ended tonight." There was a hint of bitterness in your tone, one that was completely understandable.

Kyojurou's brows furrowed. "They didn't give you a heads up? A two week notice?"

"I'm just lucky they let me pack all of my stuff before I had to leave." You continued to look down at the ground, not seeing the way Kyojurou's face contorted ever so slightly.

He didn't get mad often, but whoever your old roommates are were now on his shit list

"Well that's a shitty thing to do," he stated bluntly, causing you to sputter and blink dumbly at him.

It's been almost a year since you've met the blonde, and in all that time you never once heard him say a single bad word.

"Did you just curse??"

He pretended not to hear, pulling out his own phone to see the time as you mulled over the fact that this sweet ray of sunshine just called someone shitty.

Expression neutralizing as he schemed, he turned back to you. "You don't have to stay in a fast food place for the night."

"Huh?? Are you suggesting I sleep in a box?"

The man smiled, resting a reassuring hand on top of your shoulder, frustration forgotten for now. "You can stay with me!"

"What now?"

Chuckling, he passed the umbrella off to you to hold, beginning to slip his arms out of the jacket he wore. "You can stay with me for the time being until you get back on your feet! Well, us. If you wanted to of course! Sanemi just moved out, so we're looking for a new one regardless."

Baffled at the sudden offer, you started to shake your head, forming the words to decline him. It was too big of a favor, how could you accept that?

He was one step ahead of you, as he always is.

"Before you say anything, no, it would not be any trouble, you're a joy to have around! We can settle the nitty gritty later, let's just get you out of the cold."

"Wait, Kyojurou," you were silenced by a heavy warmth that suddenly engulfed your upper body, including your sight. Moving the fabric from your eyes, you realized it was his jacket.

His once dry clothes was slowly becoming just as soaked as you were as he took back the umbrella, insistently keeping it solely above you.

The gentle way he smiled in combination with the light post that shined behind his head had you convinced he was your guardian angel in disguise.

You hesitantly pulled the jacket closer to your body, not being able to deny how relieving the warmth felt. "But, won't you be cold?"

"My insides are practically pocket heaters, it takes a lot for me to be cold. A little wind and rain won't do anything to me, I promise! Now come on, before you get sick," he insisted as he grabbed your bag, throwing them over his shoulder.

"Little" was an understatement, but you didn't have the energy to argue. It was the middle of the night and you could feel your eyes starting to droop.

Grabbing your luggage to role behind, you let the other wrap his free arm around your form, hand resting on your arm. "Thank you, truly I don't know where to start showing how grateful I am. I owe you big time."

"Never refer to me as Rengoku-san again and I'll call it even!"

A wobbly smile tugged at your lips as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you down the route to his apartment. "You have a deal then, Kyojurou."

The weather broadcasters warned everyone about heavy snowfall, but you couldn’t help but think they could’ve prepared everyone a bit more as you stared out your window and could only see the shadow of snow.

Thank the gods above it was winter break or they’d have to cancel classes, which would just be tuition money flushed down the shitter.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door of the bedroom you were in, which was odd because the door was open.

Low and behold, it was your sweetheart of a boyfriend, holding two mugs and using his foot to knock. “I brought hot coco!”

"You don't have to knock, this is your room you dork."

"Our room technically, my dear." He responded smoothly, shutting the door with his foot behind him as he made his way to you.

"Careful not to spill it," he winked, laughing slightly as he handed you your mug.

"Just for that I should," you scoffed playfully, sticking your tongue out at him as you took the drink. The smile on his face was nothing but adoring, finding you to be adorable. You had to look away to dismiss the butterflies that swarmed in your tummy. “Looks like we’re snowed in for a bit. The snow is above the windows.”

Kyojurou hummed in agreement. “I still don’t understand how tiny snowflakes can become so damaging so fast!”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, taking a sip of the hot beverage. Kyojurou always made the best hot chocolate.

“... UME! I’m glad I can be amusing!” You couldn't hold down the snort at the realization that he wasn't joking, swallowing and shaking your head. You granted him mercy and switched the subject.

“What are the others up to?”

Kyojurou leaned against the sill next to you, shoulder bumping yours affectionately. “Tengen is in the living room playing video games with his girlfriends, Mitsuri is watching a movie in her room and Obanai is watching with her. I think she's also painting his nails from the conversation I overheard while passing by."

“I see.”

The both of you were leaning against the window sill, basking in the comfortable silence. It wasn't common in an apartment full of unique roommates.

Even now you both could hear the loud victory cheer of Suma as Tengen groaned in defeat.

Taking another sip of your drink, you hummed, lifting your head to face Kyojurou. You were going to say something, but that was forgotten as you covered your mouth with your fingers as to not laugh suddenly.

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Your poor oblivious lover had a whipped cream mustache. He tilted his head at you - not unlike an owl - seemingly confused to your sudden shift in expression. You swallowed your laughter down as you placed your drink onto the sill, stepping closer to the blonde.

"No, nothing's wrong. You just have a little something rigghtt..." you reached out to grip his chin gently, swiping your thumb across his top lip to collect the whipped cream. "-there, all gone!"

A pretty, bright red color spread across Kyojurou’s face, wide eyes blinking owlishly at you with his mouth slightly agape. Laughing quietly at his reaction, you licked the cream off your thumb, patting the side of his cheek teasingly.

"You'll catch flies, hun." A click of teeth could be heard as he closed his mouth.

"RIGHT!" He stopped himself to clear his throat, turning to face the window as his usual smile reappeared, though a bit wobbly. "Thank you!"

All you did was hum, a slight mischievous smirk settling onto your face. You were set to happily go back to your drink when you shivered, the chill of the room finally reaching you through your clothes.

Kyojurou caught it from the corner of his eye, turning back to you. “Are you cold?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, you'll just get another sweatshirt.

“I’ll be ok. The hot coco will warm me up in- WOAH!” That plan was thrown out the window when he suddenly scooped you up into his broad arms, smiling determinedly.

"You're not allowed to just continue on being cold, not if I can help it!" The firey man plopped you down onto your shared bed, quickly gathering the collection of fluffy blankets you have accumulated over time.

In the blink of an eye, you were neatly swaddled in said blankets and being held gently to your boyfriend's warm chest. He settled underneath the main blanket, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

“Is that better?” He beamed at you, looking oh so proud of himself.

What did you do to deserve him?

"Much," you all but groaned, snuggling your face into the warmth of his chest. It was like cuddling a big warm marshmallow. “I still can’t understand how you’re so warm.”

“I’m a living-breathing heater, my dear. I’ve explained this before, I’m sure of it.”

You snorted, leaning into his hand as he began to run his fingers through your hair. “I’m not complaining, you’re good to keep around for whenever my hands freeze.”

“I wouldn’t mind one bit," his voice came out softly, planting a warm kiss to onto your forehead. This in turn caused you to melt even further into him, burying your face into his shirt.

Kyojurou laughed with amusement as he turned on the television, looking for something for the two of you to watch for the rest of the evening. You eventually peaked your head out to look at him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Hey, Kyojurou?”

“Yes?”

All of his attention was on you. Even in these small moments he looks at you as though you're the most precious human being in the world. And to him, you were.

You hummed, placing a kiss onto his chin. “I’m happy I spilled my drink all over you.”

The small peck had similar effects from the whipped cream incident earlier, though he seemed to snap out of it quicker this time. He smiled brighter, cupping your cheek with his large, warm hand.

“That's an odd way of saying I love you."

This made you pause, the 'L-word' not being used between the two of you yet. “Wait, what?"

He gave you no time to question further as he placed a kiss onto your lips in return, his other hand finding the small of your back to pull you closer.

The initial shock of being kissed faded quickly, your arms finding their way around his neck as you pulled yourself closer. The kiss was short and sweet, yet the passion that Kyojurou lived by was always present.

The kiss came to a pause with you laying on top of his chest, remote forgotten and blankets wrapped around you as you steadied your breathing.

Kyojurou's eyes crinkled slightly with his smile, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek.

"I love you too."

#🎣.requests #sfw #one shot #kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny reader insert #demon slayer reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba reader insert #kny one shot #demon slayer one shot #kimetsu no yaiba one shot #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojurou x reader

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whentheynameyoujoy · 4 years

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Yup, Sure Was a Finale

I had an epiphany. The reason why I never re-watched the final two parts of Sozin’s Comet even though I’ve popped in episodes at random many times over the years isn’t that I can’t bear the sadness of seeing one of the best, most engaging narratives out there come to an end.

It’s simply that the finale isn’t all that good.

Some honorable mentions of what was enjoyable.

(+) This

Just this.

(+) The Church of Zutara has another convert

“Are you sure they don’t get together?” Hubster, 2020

(+) The tragedy of Azula

And the fact that it’s acknowledged as such. I hope Zuko will do his best to get her help and have a relationship with her…

(+) Sokka being a big bro

And the whole airship sequence in general. It’s wonderfully paced and plotted, with moments of humor, real stakes, Toph being both badass and a scared crying kid, Sokka strategizing and protecting, Suki saving the day, and non-benders being instrumental in thwarting the bad guy firebender’s plans. Would be shame if Bryke never portrayed them this capable ever again…

And now for the main course.

(-) Blink and its over

The wrap-up feels too quick (hashtag Needs More ROtK-style False Endings). A part of this is due to how fast the story goes from the thick of the action to hastily tying up a bunch of loose ends, but the larger issue is how Book 3’s uneven pacing comes home to roost. After spending half a season on filler episodes that at best subtly flesh out established characters while dancing around a huge lionturtle-shaped hole, and at worst contradict the theme of “no one is born bad” with “you’re a hot mess because your great-grandfathers didn’t get along too well”, the frantic “go go go” rush of the second half screeches to a halt with “they won and everyone was happy because now the right people have power and it will be all good from now on yup nothing more to deal with baiiiii”.

Yes, I know, it’s a kids’ show. But goddamn, this particular kids’ show has proven so many times it can do better than the expected tropiness. Showing the characters in their roles as builders of a new world was the least that could have been done.

Oh well!

(-) Ursa

We’ll never know. There will never be a story that delves into this. Yup. Shall forever remain but an intriguing mystery. Is good, though. Mystery is better than a story where Ursa shares her son’s penchant for forgetfulness. Imagine how embarrassing that would be. Speaking of which…

(-) What does Mai see in this jerkbender?

Look, I like to harp a lot on the mess of inconsistent writing that’s Mai but let’s unpack this scene from her perspective, shall we?

Zuko forgot about her! It totally slipped his mind that the one person who prioritized the safety of his dumb ass was rotting in the worst prison in the Fire Nation—because of him! And she was rotting there long enough after the final Agni Kai for the news of Zuko’s upcoming coronation to spread and her uncle to feel sufficiently secure to release her. But then the coronation scene is attended by every single member of Gaang & Friends that was imprisoned?

So what this tells me is that either a) the invasion force had the ability to break themselves out the whole time and for some reason decided not to exercise it until after the war was over, b) Zuko forgot about them as well and no one thought to remind him there were prisons full of POWs until Mai arrived, or, and that’s even better, c) Zuko took care to free every single resistance fighter while making sure Mai would be the one to stay behind bars.

Never thought I’d say this but Mai? Honey? You deserve so much better.

(-) “What does Katara want?”

Asked no one in the writers’ room ever, apparently.

This is not so much anti Cataang as anti romance stories that pay attention to the needs, opinions, and wants of only one partner in general. Over the previous 60 episodes, Katara actively expressed romantic interest in Aang exactly, wait for it,

Once.

And it got retconned out of relevance by the following two interactions where the possibility of a romantic relationship came up, making the Headband dance pretty easy to reclassify as just one of those examples where Aang “teaches” Katara to have fun (as if one of the main obstacles to her having fun wasn’t him constantly fooling around and offloading his duties). And because the writers not only didn’t succeed in portraying Katara’s internal state of mind, but also failed to root her reluctance to pursue a relationship in outside circumstances that could change, her sudden state of unconfused once Aang steps into the spotlight has a single canonical explanation that as much as approaches coherency.

The fact is, though, that trying to interpret canon Cataang from a Watsonian perspective is an exercise in foolishness. Because there is no Watsonian justification for the ship and never has been. Bryke simply conceived of Katara as nothing but a tropey prize for Aang, never saw her as anything beyond that, and were perfectly happy to go on and immortalize her as a passive broodmare for the rest of her life.

And I fully intend to die mad about it.

(-) Iroh dips

OK, it’s been long apparent that the show doesn’t intend to do anything about Iroh’s complicity in AzulOzai’s regime in any meaningful way, and that his sole motivation for doing anything whatsoever is Zuko whom he views as a replacement son which is supposed to be good for some reason. But the finale has him abandon even that, and instead turns him full-on YOLO, idgaf anymore. It really throws Iroh’s supposed love for Zuko into doubt when his last act in the entire show is to take a half-educated 16-year old with no political savvy or an heir to secure a dynastic continuity and plomp him on the throne of a war-mongering imperialist regime where the entirety of the militarist and ruling class is guaranteed to fight him tooth and nail for power.

(I sure hope Mai’s ready to start popping out babies by tea-time otherwise the whole country is fukd in about a week)

Christ, how hard would it be to have Iroh keep the throne warm for a few years while Zuko is getting ready to succeed him? Not only would it make the whole FN reformation bit quite likelier to occur, it would require Iroh’s hedonistic ass to actually sacrifice something for once. And not having Zuko ascend to power, instead spending some time bettering and educating himself first, would be a wonderful message that no matter what you endured and overcame, you never stop growing. A kids’ show, remember?

(-) The conquering of Ba Sing Se

Gee, I feel so blessed to have my attention diverted from battlefields which actually matter to an old dude vanity project I would have been perfectly happy to assume resolved itself off-screen.

The White Lotus in general just bugs me. I was fine with the individual characters and their overall passivity when they were portrayed as lone dissenters living under circumstances where it wasn’t really possible for any single person to mount a meaningful resistance. But as members of a far-reaching shadowy organization that’s left the real fight to a bunch of kids for 59 episodes straight and didn’t turn up until a perfect opportunity presented itself to take control of the largest city in the world and bask in the spotlight?

Yeah, no.

Similarly to the lionturtle-ex-machina, the White Lotus represents a huge missed opportunity for a season-long storytelling. Here’s just a brief list of what they could have been doing throughout Book 3:

orchestrating a Fire Nation uprising;

gathering those directly persecuted by AzulOzai’s regime to help Zuko keep his hold on power once he’s crowned;

establishing themselves as a viable alternative to Ozai;

sabotaging Fire Nation’s war efforts from the inside;

countering Fire Nation propaganda (Asha Greyjoy’s pinecones, anyone?);

running a supply network to alleviate the suffering of Earth Kingdom citizens.

Instead, they sit on their asses until the time comes to claim personal glory.

You know what, good on Bryke for making me conclude that in comparison, the Freedom Fighters were perfectly unproblematic, actually.

(-) Fire Lord Dead-by-Dawn

Yes, a kids’ show, I know! But ffs, this is the same kids’ show that came up with Long Feng and portrayed courtly intrigue, kingly puppets, secret police, spy networks, and information wars. Was it really too much of me to expect something other than “enlightened despot solves everything”? Especially if said enlightened despot has persisting anger issues, no personal support system, no base of followers, and no political experience whatsoever?

If Zuko’s actually serious about regaining the Fire Nation’s honor (i.e. by dismantling the country’s military machine, decolonizing the Earth Kingdom, paying reparations to everyone and their lemur, and funding any and all cultural restoration projects Aang and the SWT come up with), then there is no way, no way in the universe that he doesn’t face a civil war, deposing, and execution within a month.

One reason why his future as a Fire Lord seems rather bleak is that little’s been shown about the actual subjects of AzulOzai’s regime. While we get a vague reassurance that “no Toph, they’re not born bad” (le shockings), they largely remain a voiceless uniform mass of brainwashed clapping seals. What is their view on the Fire Nation’s crimes? Do they associate their condition with their country’s war-mongering? How will they react when Zuko starts dismantling the country piece by piece to rebuild it, bringing it to economic ruin? What will they do when noble Ozai loyalists come out of the woodwork and begin rounding them up under the banner of “Make the Fire Nation Great Again?”

I have no idea, and Zuko doesn’t either because he’s unironically more qualified to rule the Earth Kingdom than his own people.

You know what would have been better? Fire Lord Iroh, White Lotus pulling the strings to maintain the regime, and Crown Prince/People’s Champion Zuko travelling the Fire Nation with Aang and an army of tutors to promote the new boss, only to realize that absolute monarchy is kinda crap for the people he’s one day supposed to rule and gaining their support by ceding some power to them.

I’d laser holes into my TV due to how much I’d enjoy watching that.

(-) All hail Avatar Rock

Literally and metaphorically. Aang doesn’t sacrifice anything, gets everything, and the clever solution of going about getting said everything is handed to him on a silver platter, requiring no active participation on his part whatsoever.

He doesn’t work to unblock his chakras, spiritually or physically.

He only speaks to his past lives to get a pat on the back and a bow-tied solution he could mindlessly follow.

Energy-bending doesn’t require any sacrifice from him, leaves no lasting marks, and only serves for the narrative to praise him as the rare individual that’s unbendable and thus so very very special.

The most infuriating thing is, however, that Aang is clearly shown as being able to beat Ozai without either the Avatar state, or energy-bending.

And he chooses not to. From this moment on, Aang no longer fights to save the world. He fights to preserve his beliefs, going directly against the instructions of his past lives and effectively reneging on his duties as the Avatar.

Again.

It’s not like you can’t portray Aang’s faithfulness to his spiritual beliefs as the key to beating Ozai and saving the world. But that’s not what the show did. There is no link between Aang sparing Ozai and securing a better future, quite to the contrary—Ozai’s survival ends up being a massive problem for the continuation of Zuko’s rule, and consequently a threat to the world at large. His survival benefits Aang and no one else.

Aang’s spiritual purity and his status as a savior of the world are allowed to coexist only due to a deliberate stroke of a writer’s pen.

And I hate it.

Welp, nothing to do about it now except to bury myself up to my tits in fix-it fics I guess.

#atla #atla rewatch #meta #zutara #anti bryke #anti-kataang #anti-aang #anti-maiko

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