#So I ignored her and stayed winning. Writing was very much the same journey)

[nonsensefromtheabyss]

I wanted to ask you, do you have any writing tips? I love the way you write descriptions. Do you write them however it feels right or do you take inspiration?

Omg!!! Describing is my favourite <3 I can’t promise to be helpful because, for all I love writing, I’ve never really worked out a formal structure for how to do it; I just have at it and have fun! … Actually, that’s the only tip I can offer with full confidence; have fun, don’t be nervous to experiment with styles, prioritise enjoyment over perfection. I’ll say some other stuff as well because I’m incapable of shutting up, but that’s the takeaway I’d like anyone to have.

I'm very good at visualising things, so I like to just mentally sit in an environment or run through a scene as many times as it takes to get familiar with what I 'see', and then go from there. Sometimes I write a setting or scene multiple times. Then, I either choose the version I like the best or edit the good bits together into a final copy. If I do the latter, it does mean I have to be careful to avoid repeating things, cutting important things out, the scene feeling completely incoherent and disjointed, etc, but that’s just a matter of proofreading. Both methods take away the imagined pressure of having to get it ‘right’ first try, which is something I struggle with.

Unless I'm looking to be absolutely accurate for some reason, I tend not to worry too much about precisely what a place would actually be like—beyond broad strokes I'm more interested in conveying something thematic or atmospheric. Big fan of metaphors! And juxtapositions! And similes! And anything that lets me skirt around the difficult bits of language. One thing I really enjoy doing is using two unrelated concepts to describe a very specific idea; those either come to me in the moment and are perfect or I spend forever trying to decide what’s most apt, no in between, I’ve either got it or I ain’t. “Diz drove the way a man having a seizure paints—badly.” That’s one I distinctly remember being fond of.

Sometimes, if I’m stuck on how to convey a vibe in a section, I read a few passages from a book which has the tone I’m looking to embody. Some of my more ornate descriptions are inspired by Edgar Allen Poe, for example. The works of Frances Hardinge are a big reason for my love of weird metaphors. Hell, some of the more colloquial bits of prose are literally just how I speak when I’m doing a bit. I wanted the section to be mildly amusing and just… did it as a bit. Did it work, you maybe ask? Well, I amused myself, so it counts for something!

I think, technique-wise, I might advise writing dialogue separately (I tend to do it first) and then work on other things; otherwise I feel like I lose my flow. I do dialogue and tone markers, positioning and action, then description around it where it's needed and where it fits. But I don't know if that's a universally good method or if it's just what works for me; I know some people who can write it all out at once in one go—never got it down myself.

The best writing advice I’ve been given is to avoid deleting things! Maybe something didn't fit in the project you initially wrote it for; it might be absolutely perfect for something else later. Or it might not; keep it anyway, and you get to see how far you’ve come. I have whole documents like that. And notebooks full of concepts and half-sentences—unironically, those are the best for flicking through if I’m feeling uninspired. No commitment to any one concept! No pressure to be meaningful! Just vague musings about pigeons! Miscellaneous pigeons always turn out more useful than initially expected.

[cannoli-reader]

Haddon Mirk?  Do you mean Far Madding?  Otherwise, I was thinking of things like, going to Rhuidean, using a portal stone to do it, staying in the fight in Cairhien, going after Rahvin, going after Sammael right after coming out of a coma, attempting the Cleansing, even, to a certain extent, going to visit the rebel camp where he got stabbed by Fain.  Next to most of that, you can see why he might start ignoring well-meaning cautions as he does in pressing the campaign against the Seanchan, and then stubbornly refusing to give up the sunk cost of the Far Madding gambit.   He takes the wrong lesson away from that because he’s in a bad head space, and misses the point that with the help of Cadsuane & co, one of the two problems he mentions to Min when they sent out on their journey in the Prologue is actually solved for him, while his efforts to solve the other problem in Far Madding were futile. 

As for Elayne, eh... the tightrope walking has the possibility of death, but so does horseback riding, and she practiced.  It’s dangerous but manageable.  She cheated with the Power until she had it down,  If the Aes Sedai are just going to huck their students into ter’angreal they don’t understand and assume they are fit for the job if they come out and that’s an acceptable risk for the Daughter-Heir, so is a little tightrope walking. Regarding the battlefields, Sanderson is a shit writer, knows nothing about combat or politics, and seems to be writing to validate his own fan perspectives in a few cases. With Jordan, the only battlefield she was on was the flank attack on Arymilla’s force assaulting the gate, and in that case, her presence was kind of necessary for moral reasons.  Note the the people who wanted to haul her back to the Palace and safety had all the same information she did, but she was the only one who could put together all the facts to see that this was her chance to win the war by catching Arymilla.  She had previously told Mistress Harfor that the location of Arymilla was the most important datum she wanted, back when she sent her spy into the camp.  

And, too, there is the point that Min’s viewing does mean she will survive.  Elayne knows this and knows what it means.  Jordan is subverting the trope whereby prophecies are always misunderstood, and people who rely on them have it blow up in their face.  Elayne, in contrast to her worrywart entourage, is well aware of the limitations, and grasps them better than most others.  She is very aware that the viewing does not cover her or the babies after they are born, and knowns that SIDS is a thing. When Aviendha activates the ter’angreal in her presence, Elayne first warns Aviendha of the danger of doing that, and when Aviendha translates danger as “threat to our babies” and freaks out, Elayne reassures her, citing the viewing.  What she thinks, but does not say out loud, is that the viewing does not cover being burned out, which is a known possible consequence of ter’angreal experimentation. 

As for the Black Ajah house, I will die on the hill that Elayne Did Nothing Wrong, because I have never yet seen a good argument for a better course of action.  These people were picking off Kinswomen one at a time via Careane.  “Mellar” is known to be a murderer several times over who has not ceased his predations.  Elayne, as a claimant to the throne, and an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah, has a solemn duty to protect the people of Caemlyn from crime and violence, and to protect people in general from Shadow-sworn channelers.  If the moral aspects are not enough, there is the point that Elayne is relying on the Kinswomen for critical logistical support that has been the sine qua non of her success against a much larger army. She also is aware of massive amounts of money in the hands of her enemies, providing them the means to bribe her mercenaries, and giving an incentive to turn their creditors against Elayne, which in turn means a serious assault is in the offing and she has no idea what the Darkfriends in the city will do when it comes. Elayne was in a ticking clock scenario, and if all her enemies moved against her at the same time, she had no guarantee of being able to counter them all.  When she got the news of the location of the Black sisters, it was incumbent on her to strike, and fast, while she had the opportunity to give that matter her full attention and before they managed to make her situation worse. 

Elayne did as much as possible to manage the risks.  She had “Mellar” arrested so he could not interfere nor warn his allies.  She arranged so that both sisters she was not sure of had no ability to act on their own, being linked with her and Vandene whom she did trust. She brought guards as far as would be practical.  Bringing the warders into the house with them would not have changed the outcome one bit, since the other Black cell had the stun/death ray ter’angreal. Which was wielded by a sister who understands the Warder bond.  She would have been smart enough to stun the warders on overwatch, to prevent them alerting their Aes Sedai - note that Birgitte & the other warders could not tell when their Aes Sedai were stunned - and just killed the rest of them that much more easily, plus there is Chesmal with her anti-Healing weaves.  She could have marched an army through the house and ended up with only corpses of her team.  The only person who was going to go in to that house and leave alive, was Elayne herself. If she just sent everyone else in and waited outside, they would all be dead, and she would have no way of knowing what happened, and not be any closer to solving the problem of Black sisters weakening her from within. Elayne did not rush in all foolhardy to the house on Full Moon Street. She took every possible precaution against every reasonable danger.  The notion that there might be a second cell of Black sisters out there is the sort of hypothetical that if you followed it to its logical conclusion, would leave you paralyzed and unable to act, for fear of wildly improbable possibilities.  

Remember Pedron NIall’s rules for information, which included, “Never believe you know everything. And never wait to know everything.  The man who waited to know everything was still sitting in his tent when the enemy burned it over his head.”  Niall died because he failed to balance those rules.  Elayne won, because she did not.  This is a situation where because the readers know something else is out there, want her to keep looking.  But several men have died trying to follow "Mellar,” and it took a man of extraordinary stealth talents to succeed.  Trying to follow and spy on Aes Sedai who have heightened senses with the Power and can weave wards or cast eavesdropping spells is ridiculous, and Birgitte flatly refused to do so when Nynaeve asked her in Salidar. So what was Elayne to do on the recon/intel front?  Just keep having people patrol the streets in case they have secret reinforcements they don’t mention when talking between themselves?  Spying on the house they found would not have revealed the existence of Temaile, Asne et al, because Shiaine and her crew had no idea they were out there.  And that group of Aes Sedai managed to get into the house without Birgitte, the other warders or the soldiers spotting them.  We, the readers, also know the Marillin Gemalphin managed to evade the Aiel and Saldaeans who searched the city for her, specifically, while Rand held Caemlyn.  Elayne had good reasons to move at once and no way of knowing the reason why it might have been a good idea to wait and keeping looking, and even the readers who do know, should also realize how unlikely it would be for her people to actually find anything useful. 

As with Rand, though, more often than not, Elayne finds herself in a situation where she realizes what must be done, but other people reject the idea emotionally, and can’t or won’t see the need, or are not as fast to pick up on it, so to them it looks like Elayne is rushing off, when the reality is that she has already thought it through, weighed the risks versus reward and made her decision rationally. Such as when confronting the Borderlanders, going after Shiaine’s crew, going into the Tel’Aran’Rhiod nightmare to rescue Sheriam and the other sisters, or unraveling the gateway between the Kin farm and Andor.  In each case, Elayne took a calculated risk, and saw the pros and cons better or faster than her companions and acted on it. 

Rand or Elayne: Look! It's a bear trap! I can step in it without springing it because I'm Invincible™️. Wanna see?

The rest of the cast, shaking their heads in horror: This is a really bad idea. Don't you think it would be better to use a stick instead of your foot? Or maybe walk around it?

Rand or Elayne: No, no, I'm good! See?

(the trap closes over the foot)

The rest of the cast: goes and rescues the fool.

Rand or Elayne: I was 100% correct. Everything worked out fine. Let's do this again sometime!

The rest of the cast: sighs in exasperated horror

[let-them-read-fics]

Saranghae

Requested by Anon: “Can i make a request for Blackpink RoséXFem!reader one shot/imagine where y/n always thought she was the one that said I love you first but she realizes rosé said it in korean when y/n was first learning it the first few months they were dating. like rosé says it and y/n is like wait what does that mean? and rosé teases her and doesn't say anything (holy crap this is long, sorry. i hope that makes sense. I asked someone else if they can write it but I dont think they're going to) thank you very much if you do🥺❤️”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 2,300

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: To the anon who requested this: Thank you! This is actually a really sweet ask, so hopefully I did it justice. I stuck with the gist of the prompt, but I added a little twist to it. I hope you enjoy; let me know what you think. Happy reading, everyone!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

~~~ Flashback: A Few Months Into Your Relationship ~~~

“Baby, come grab the door, please!” You request, your hands busy holding the two steaming cups of hot cocoa you prepared for Rosé and yourself. At the sound of your voice, she sets down the notebook that she had been writing in, and makes her way to you. She appears in the doorway with a wide smile, her face lighting up when she spots the drinks. 

“How’d you know I wanted some?” She takes her mug from you, being careful not to move too quickly and spill it, and lays a kiss on your cheek -- her way of thanking you.

With a nonchalant shrug, you make your way across the room, saying over your shoulder, “It’s my superpower, duh. We’re just in sync like that.” The giggle that leaves her lips makes your heart flutter, and you can’t help but smile back.

Now armed with your beverages, the two of you sit back down on the floor next to each other, getting prepared for your mini lesson. The fluffy material of the carpet comforts you, and you settle in.

~~~~~~~

Rosé repeats the phrase one more time, slowing it down for you, enunciating the words as clearly as she can. Your gaze is set on her lips, taking note of how they purse and pout with the different syllables. You try again, albeit incredibly slow and choppy, but eventually the words manage to come out intelligible. She celebrates the win, quickly standing and pulling you up along with her for a victory dance; after all, it was a pretty tricky phrase for someone just starting out. She knows how competent you are though, and she wanted to give you a challenge. 

As the two of you stand there, doing a little dorky jig together, she takes a second to think. She is totally smitten with you: these past few months have been some of the happiest times of her life, and she owes a lot of that to you. There’s no one she’d rather have by her side like this, staying up well into the night to teach Korean to. She loves that you’re eager to learn more, and she’s ecstatic to be the one that gets to help you on that journey. It really is a special thing to her, and she doesn’t take it for granted. Time spent with you is heaven, regardless of what the two of you are doing. 

Rosé is pulled from her thoughts by the quiet sound of you yawning. Her heart nearly melts at the sight of your face all scrunched up, paired with the little wiggle that you do. She pulls you in, smiling as you nuzzle your face into her neck sleepily. “Rosé, I’d love to keep practicing, but I’m about to pass out.” Her hand comes up to run through your hair, the other one wrapped around your body to keep you close. “We should be going to bed anyway, babe. We can pick back up tomorrow, if you’d like.” She kisses your forehead tenderly as you just simply nod, your body too tired and brain too fried to do much of anything else. 

Once she’s tucked you in, making sure you’re comfortable and warm, she crouches down next to the bed. The lights are dimmed now, the only source of illumination being the moonlight that glitters in through the blinds, kissing your skin just right. Sitting there, face to face with you, she realizes that you’re her person. The one that she wants to wake up next to every morning and fall asleep wrapped around every night; the one to go on late night drives through the city with, stopping wherever your hearts desire; the one to hold through the bad times and comfort through the sad. You mean the world to her, and she can’t help but declare it.  

“사랑해, Y/N.” 

Despite only being half conscious, you’d never ignore the sound of her voice. “Mmm?” You mumble groggily, the noise making her laugh. She makes a mental note to add that to her list of favorite sounds. “Nothing, angel. Rest now.” With that, she goes to stand, but you catch her wrist before she can go. “No, tell me. Pleaaase?” Your eyes are open now, but just enough for her to see that beautiful sparkle in them. “Tomorrow. Now shhhh.” She leans down, placing a hand on your cheek to caress it, as she presses her lips to yours in an attempt to silence you. Her plan works, and she gives you a few more pecks before going to pick up and organize the books that were still strewn about on the floor. Not even a minute later, the sounds of your soft snores carry over to her ears, and she just shakes her head in amusement. 

~~~ The Next Day ~~~

“Alright, ready baby?”

“Do your worst.”

“Next up is… 사랑해.” Her eyes hold a hint of mischief, and you furrow your brow as you try to place where you’ve heard that. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Have you said this one before? It sounds familiar…” Now, deeply confused, you rack your brain. She plays innocent, though, having no intention of bringing up what happened the night before. With you being none the wiser, she’s content with teasing you for now. 

“Oh, that’s gonna drive me insane. Roseanne! What does it mean?” She chuckles at your frustration and use of her full name, but she doesn’t give in. Clearly, she gets a kick out of this. 

“Just start guessing, babe.”

~~~ Present Day, At The Blackpink Dorm ~~~

“Guys, I have the perfect game for tonight! Somebody was talking about it at the studio today: it’s called the Newlywed Game. I wanna see how well the lovebirds can do.” Lisa informs as she walks through the front door of the dorm, making her way into the living room where you and the girls are sitting. 

“Oh you’re on, Manoban. I know Rosé like the back of my own hand.” A smug expression takes over your features as you smirk at Lisa, standing up and playfully challenging her. 

“Oh yeah? Jennie and I are so gonna beat you.” She matches your energy, coming eye to eye with you, and she struggles to mask her grin. With the way she’s moving her lips to hide it, she kinda looks like a fish. 

Jisoo is next to speak as she goes to stand between the two of you, pretending to hold you back. “Hey, hey, break it up. Save it for the game.” Lisa sticks her tongue out at you, which prompts you to brush past Jisoo and tackle her onto the sofa. Jennie shouts, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” And soon, all of you are piled together in a heap of fake punches and throws, laughing loudly. 

{....} The Game {....}

“It’s neck and neck as our couples head into the final round; whoever wins this, wins the game.” Jisoo announces to no one, gesturing and looking to imaginary cameras around the room. “Contestants, are you ready?” Everyone nods in affirmation, and you give Rosé’s hand a loving squeeze. 

“Who was the first to say, ‘I love you’?”

At the question, you look to Rosé with a cocky expression on your face, absolutely convinced that you’ve got it in the bag. She scribbles her answer down on the white board -- yes, surprisingly, the girls had a few of them laying around the dorm -- and looks up at you with a smile. 

“Reveal your answers in 3...2...1…” Jisoo calls out in her best host voice, successfully creating suspense as she holds onto the numbers, dragging the count down out. 

“Now!”

Everyone flips their board around, and it seems as though time stops for a moment. Lisa and Jennie have the same answer, and you look to see what Rosé put -- despite being confident that you already know. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor as you read her name on the board.

“WHAT??” You exclaim, utter disbelief coursing through you: your whole life is a lie, it’s official. The other team is cackling by now, and you send them a mocking smile. 

Eyes now focused back on your partner, you say, “I totally said it first. Remember, that night after dinner with your parents back in Melbourne?” You hope something will click at that, her memory magically being jogged. Alas, that never happens. Everyone gets comfortable on the couches in preparation for the story she’s about to tell.  

“We hadn’t been dating super long, but it was when I was teaching you Korean back at your place. We cut the lesson short because you got sleepy, so I put you to bed. I couldn’t help myself though; you just looked so cute all cuddled up like that. I hadn’t expected for you to actually hear me, since I thought you had already passed out, but you asked me to tell you what it meant. I was stubborn and didn’t, of course,” You narrow your eyes at her, ready to stick up for your past self, but your heart secretly soars at how precious that story is.

“I love you, a lot, Rosé; but I hardly think that that counts, considering I was practically unconscious,” you say, putting emphasis on the word. The inner gamer in you is on full display, and you’re not ready to admit defeat yet. 

“Nope, we won, fair and square.” Lisa declares, exaggeratedly tossing her hair over her shoulder. You look to Jisoo, hands clasped together, eyes pleading, but she hands the victory to the other team. 

With a roll of your eyes, you tut at the loss; in no time, though, the feeling of Rosé’s arms snaking around you has you abandoning your little pity party, opting instead to smile at her. You pull her in for a kiss -- there’s no one you’d rather lose with, after all. Her lips turn up in a smile, and you can taste the cherry gloss on them. Eventually, the two of you decide to spare the others from your love-fest, and pull away. You keep an arm around her, your other hand busy being held by hers, and she lays her head on your shoulder. 

The playful atmosphere still stands, and Jennie goes to rub it in. “How’s it feel to lose, Y/N?” 

Dramatically, you look off into the distance, pretending to be in deep thought, before looking down at Rosé, and say, “With you, I can never lose; you’re the greatest prize I could ever ask for, Rosé.” The other girls let out a chorus of boos at your cheesy line, and Rosé lets out a little squeal as she scrambles to hide her blushing cheeks. With each laugh that she lets out, her body shakes against you, and you laugh right along with her. 

“Have I told you how adorable you are?” She asks, gazing up at you through her lashes. 

You purse your lips at her own cheesiness, and say, “Once or twice, I think. But tell me again.” 

Over the course of the night, she does just that -- multiple times, might I add -- and the 5 of you revel in each other’s company. Given their busy schedules, the opportunity to spend multiple hours with each other can be pretty rare; so, all of you thoroughly take advantage of the night. Karaoke sessions, Netflix binges, dance battles, food breaks, tickle fights -- anything you can think of, you guys probably did it. 

As things wind down, everyone is nodding off, and you take that as your cue to go. You remove your arms from their position around Rosé, the action drawing a whine from her, and you lay her back against the couch so that you can bid the girls goodnight.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” Jisoo says, voice laced with exhaustion, as she flips the small pillow in front of her over to the cool side. 

“Night, loser.” Lisa’s grin can be heard through her words, and you lightly smack her as you go by.

“Sleep well, Y/N. We love you.” Jennie is the most awake of any of them, and she reaches up to give you a hug. 

“Goodnight guys, we’ll see you in the morning.” Arms are thrown up into the air as a sign of acknowledgement to your statement, and you make your way back to Rosé.

She’s curled up against the side of the sofa, her hair falling gracefully over the armrest. Not having the heart to wake her up, you opt to scoop her up into your arms, smiling as she drapes hers around your neck. Her skin is warm against your own, and you take comfort in the feeling. Somehow she always manages to be so, so perfect, without even trying. As you make the journey back to her room, you’re careful to not bump into anything. She shifts a bit in your arms, and your heart nearly stops when she lazily mumbles your name in her sleep, a cute smirk on her lips. Nothing feels better than this.

Now in her bedroom, you slowly lean against the door until it shuts, and the soft sound of it latching behind you echoes across the silent space. You lay her down and pull the sheets up on her -- just as she had done that day, all those months ago -- and press a kiss to her cheek. “사랑해, Rosé.” As you climb into bed next to her, she rolls over to face you. A small smile plays on her beautiful lips as she says, “I heard that; I love you, too, baby.” A content sigh leaves your lips as you beam at her and pull her into your embrace. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for reading!!!

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

what about....... 💻 for thomastair, with the plot "there's only one bed"? thank u 🥺

i know we're all going off about ariadne & alastair right now but I wanted to get this posted!! thomastair fluff with a little angst. i hope you like this, it was a lot of fun to write! pls check the end for disclaimers, i also cross-posted to AO3. only content warnings are discussion of grief and brief mention of racism.

prompt: “there’s only one bed”

“You’re in luck!” the innkeeper declared. “There are four rooms left.” 

“Thank you, sir,” James responded without question. Four rooms, eight people. “We’ll take them.” James paid the gentlemen and turned to his friends. 

Lucie pouted. “I suppose that means Daisy and I can’t share a room.” 

It was a trying journey, dragging a group of eight along into rural England, but they needed to find the portal that continued to allow Belial a connection to this realm, and their only leads were here. It was the sole way to stop Belial for good. It began as just the Merry Thieves, of course, but then Lucie and Cordelia caught wind of it, and they couldn’t refuse. From there, it was Alastair, who refused to allow his sister to go without him, despite the animosity that still sat between him and the other boys, and Jesse, who insisted that this was the only way to save Grace and free her from Belial’s - and their mother’s - control. As such, the eight of them departed. It might not be ideal to travel with so many people, but it did allow them to split into smaller groups relatively easily - unless, of course, those groups were sharing a room with each other. 

Without Alastair and Jesse, it would be simple: Lucie with Cordelia, James with Matthew, and Thomas with Christopher. However, no one really knew Jesse all that well apart from Lucie, and they certainly didn’t trust Alastair enough to leave Jesse with him for a night. Most logically, the girls would stay with their brothers, but Lucie had been excited about the idea of a ‘sleepover’ with Cordelia all day. The weather was beginning to become treacherous, as it sometimes did during English winters, and they knew they would need to retreat to an inn that evening. 

“Nonsense, Lucie,” Thomas said a little more quickly than seemed logical. “I can stay with Alastair, and I’m sure one of you doesn't mind staying with Jesse.” He eyed his friends. “You two should enjoy yourselves; it’s been a difficult couple of days.” 

Lucie’s eyes lit up eagerly. “Oh, Thomas, are you sure?” 

Matthew’s eyes had darkened and he repeated, “Yeah, Tom, are you sure?” 

Alastair rolled his eyes and ignored the fact that they were solely debating who would have the displeasure of spending the night in the same room as him. 

“I said so, didn’t I?” was Thomas’ reply. 

“I’ll stay with Jesse,” James offered before the discussion could continue into more hurtful territory. 

The innkeeper led them to their rooms, and they settled for the night. 

Alastair gritted his teeth when he saw that instead of two single beds, there was one double. He sighed. “I can go ask for extra blankets; I’ve slept in worse places.”

Thomas paused for a second in confusion. “Don’t be daft, Carstairs, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us.” He turned his head sideways. “Though it might be a bit short…” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I said, don’t be silly. We’re here to rest, that’s all.” 

Alastair grunted but didn’t push it further. They continued in relative silence as they took turns changing behind the folding screen and freshening up at the wash bin. Finally comfortable, Alastair settled into the armchair beside the bed with the book he’d brought along and tried to consume himself enough in the reading that he could ignore that just a few feet away from him was the very tall, very muscular, very attractive man who hated him.

It wasn’t working. 

“What are you reading?” 

Alastair bit his lip. He hated when people interrupted him while he was reading, but he supposed he wasn’t really reading at all, just pretending to. The cover of the book was plain, a deep red leather with no writing. Whenever he was around folks who were not his family, he was careful to position himself in a way that no one would be able to see the writing inside - writing that did not use the Roman alphabet. He always felt more comfortable with Thomas, though, for some odd reason. He sighed. “Divan-e Shams.” He tilted the book towards Thomas so he could see a bit of the Farsi poetry written inside. 

“Would you read some to me? I’ve forgotten my reading material.” 

Alastair flashed him an incredulous look. “What an important thing to forget.” 

“Yes,” Thomas sighed. “I have realized. So…?” 

Alastair rolled his eyes and did his best to translate. “My desert is without end, my soul, my heart must tear. The world here-” 

“No, no,” Thomas interrupted. “In Persian.” 

Alastair pushed away some of his shock. After all, Cordelia had said that Thomas had been studying the language with Lucie. “Right,” he amended before beginning again. Around the same spot, though, he cut himself off. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“It’s just… it’s meant to be sung. It feels strange saying it.” 

“Sing it, then.” 

Alastair stared at him for a moment. Was this some sort of trick? Was he going to run off to his schoolboy friends the moment he was finished to laugh about what he had done? Was he doing it to get revenge? He pondered all of the possibilities, but his mind rested on just one thought: that perhaps it would be worth it, to play into some cruel trick, if it meant he could say that he’d sung to Thomas Lightwood, even just once. 

“I mean… You don’t have to, but you can. If you wanted,” Thomas said quickly, realizing that he might have made Alastair uncomfortable. 

Alastair cleared his throat and began to sing. He made sure to keep his voice soft and low as he made his way through the ghazal, careful to not allow anyone to hear through the walls. Cordelia would never let him live it down if she heard. He finally looked up at Thomas, who was staring at him intensely. 

“That was beautiful.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you understand any of it?” 

Thomas grinned. “Not a word.” 

Alastair chuckled. “That’s alright. Mevlevi - I believe you folks call him Rumi - was a genius. He crafted phrases in a way… Well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything else quite like it. He gives new meanings to old words and uses quite a bit of wordplay, speaking of love and loss and longing… I used to think it was a tragedy, truly, that English speakers could not understand, but now… it’s nice. Like a secret only I, and, well, Persia, have access too.” He bit back a smile as he rambled. While the books he had were from his mother, she never had much of an interest in it all, nor Cordelia, so he’d never had anyone to muse about the poet with before.

“I can see why you enjoy it so much. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard something so beautiful before. I didn’t even know you could sing.” 

Alastair felt his brain sputter a bit. He’d become so entranced with the language before him that he’d forgotten that he had just sung it to Thomas. He felt his face flush, and he was grateful that it is difficult to see against his dark complexion. “Oh… It was nothing. I mean, I don’t, really. It’s just something my mum taught me.” 

“It’s incredible,” Thomas said in awe, his face glowing a faint pink. “I, uh, I write songs, you know. I mean, I’ve never told anyone, least of all you, so, you wouldn’t know, but now you do. Just in my head, I mean. Well, sometimes I write them down. I’m not very musically inclined.” His face was growing redder by the second. 

Alastair was careful not to grin too widely. “Sing one, then.” 

“What?” Thomas squeaked. 

“Well, you don’t have to, but you can, if you want to.” 

Thomas threw him a quick glare for repeating his words and then took a deep breath. He was silent for a bit, but then he began to sing, careful not to look towards Alastair. “I woke up thinking you were still here, my hands shaking with regret. I've held this dream for such a long, long time, and now I want to wake up to the rhythm of a wild heart that beats, that beats like a drum. 

“Your light, it follows me in darkness. I'm trying hard, but I can't win, and I've played the victim for a long, long time, and I wanna grow up from the rhythm of a younger heart, it leads, just like a river runs.” 

Alastair stood from the armchair and moved to where Thomas was sitting on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “That’s beautiful, Thomas,” he said softly. “I didn’t… I know I didn’t know her, but I’m sure she’d love it.” 

Thomas turned away from him sharply, his lip trembling and tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. 

Alastair took the other boy’s hand, cupping it firmly between his own, as if just to say, I’m here with you. “It’s alright.” 

“No, it’s not,” Thomas said, trying futilely to wipe away his tears. “We were having a moment, and then I ruined it.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he replied gently. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Thomas. You shouldn’t just push them away.”

Thomas scoffed. “What do you suggest I do then? Mask my pain with cruel, horrible lies about those who have done nothing to deserve them like you do?” 

Alastair dropped his hand and stood up, backing away from Thomas. He was silent for a moment. “You’re right. You are. But I’m trying, Thomas, I really am. I don’t want to…” I don’t want to be my father, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. “I don’t want to be the kind of person who takes my hurt out on others anymore, and I’m trying. I swear it.” 

“I know,” Thomas said softly. He was silent for a moment. “I understand why you did it.” 

Alastair’s jaw tightened reflexively. 

“Matthew said some awful things about… about the way you look, and your father, and… the incident. You were in a bad way already.” 

Alastair was speechless. He’d forgotten that Thomas was present for that. He hadn’t shared any of it with Thomas, not his insecurities about his heritage, nor his father, and certainly not the horrible, world-altering guilt over Clive’s death that still sat in the depths of his soul years later. 

“That doesn’t make what you said okay.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“You weren’t trying to hurt me.” 

“I was not.” 

“You were trying to hurt Matthew.” 

He sighed. “I was.” 

“And you did.” 

“I did.” 

“And perhaps he deserved some of it.” 

“Not what I did, though.” 

“No, not what you did.” 

“I took it too far.” 

“You did.” 

“I know. I’ve known since the moment I said it. I’ve regretted it since the moment I said it.” 

“I know.”

“I don’t think that it’s something that can be fixed, though.” 

“With Matthew? Maybe not.” 

“What about with you?” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Alastair.”

“I thought you hated me.” 

“I wanted to hate you because you hurt Matthew. But… I think the world is just a little more complicated than I’d like it to be.” 

Alastair sat back down on the bed, though farther from Thomas this time.

“Is that… Is that why you dyed your hair? Because of the things he said?”

Alastair attempted to hide the way he physically flinched. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” 

“Do you think he’s the only one?” he interrupted. “Do you think I haven’t been laughed at or ridiculed or worse, suspected to be dangerous or a thief, my entire life just because of how dark my hair and eyes and skin are?”  

“I’m sorry,” was all Thomas could find to say. “Matthew still shouldn’t’ve said those things. I’m sorry I never stopped him.” 

He’d left Alastair speechless yet again. The thought had never crossed his mind before, or perhaps it had, that Thomas could have ever spoken to Matthew about the kinds of comments he made on Alastair’s appearance. Though, the longer he pondered the idea, the more he wondered if he had held some sort of small resentment because of it, and never realized. “That wasn’t your responsibility.” 

“Perhaps not, but I could have tried.” 

He stared at him for a moment. Never in his life had felt so seen, so understood. In fact, he had many carefully built walls to protect against just that. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“How do you… just know everything?” 

Thomas half-rolled his eyes. “I don’t know everything. I just watch, and I observe, and I try, somehow, to understand. You’re not as complicated as you wish you were, you know.” 

He had a startling thought as he wondered whether anyone had ever watched him as closely as Thomas had. “Cordelia would disagree with you.” 

“Hm, I just might have to share with her the secret to you, then.” 

Alastair glared at him, but he was grinning now. “Don’t you dare.” 

“For the record, you know… I prefer dark features. Personally, I mean.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m sure there were many striking dark-haired women back in Madrid.” 

“Hm,” Thomas pondered in an exaggerated way. “I don’t know… Though, there was certainly an attractive dark-haired someone that I met when I visited Paris.” 

“Well, I would hope so,” Alastair deadpanned. “Because according to you, we just shared a moment.”

Thomas cringed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten I’d said that.” 

“Me? Never.” 

“Does this… Does this mean we’re okay now?” Thomas was slow and cautious as he spoke. 

“Yes, I think it does.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I could help you, you know, with your songs, if you wanted, once we return to London. With that one, or others. I can play the piano.” 

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “You can play the piano?” 

Alastair shrugged. “Well, I used to, but I haven’t in a while.” 

“Why did you stop?” 

He bit his cheek as he thought. This was where he should say he grew bored of it, that it simply no longer interested him, or perhaps suggest that they should go to sleep, as they were both dreadfully tired, or even whip out a line cutting and cruel. He had meant what he’d said to Thomas, though, that he no longer wanted to be so heartless and closed off. “I don’t know… I used to play a lot with my mother when I was young. Then, life got too busy… I’d still play, but usually when my parents were fighting or when something was happening that I didn’t want Cordelia to overhear. I could just… start playing and everything else would just melt away. After a while, though, it was just hard to play without thinking about all of the bad memories.” 

There was more he wished to say, about how when he returned from the Academy he believed himself to be too corrupted and too broken to deserve to create anything beautiful, but this was a start. 

“I wouldn’t wish to remind you of any bad memories.” 

“Perhaps we could create some good memories, then.” 

“I… I’d like that.” 

“We should… we should probably sleep. It’s gotten late, and we’re sure to be running around all day tomorrow.” 

Thomas nodded, and they both climbed into opposite sides of a bed that once seemed far too small, but now, too wide. 

The exhaustion of the day finally creeping up on him, Alastair fell asleep almost instantly. 

When he woke, he found himself face first into Thomas’ night shirt. 

His head rested against Thomas’ chest, Thomas’ arm around his torso, their legs intertwined. He stared for a moment into the white of Thomas’ shirt, not daring to move. Should he? They’d flirted a bit the night before, but they were hardly even friends at this point. Was this too much, too far? The other boy seemed to be sleeping soundly, though, and from the sound of Thomas’ song and the circles he’d noticed under his eyes the past few months, he suspected that sound sleep might not be coming so easily to him nowadays. Therefore, the best thing would be not to move and risk startling Thomas from his rest. Besides, the room was quite chilly, and they could use each other’s warmth. 

Content with his decision to not move away from Thomas’ embrace, he allowed himself to fall back into a light, peaceful slumber, however long it would last. 

It lasted, he would learn, until his little sister began banging on their door. 

“Booooys,” she called. “Are you decent?” 

Alastair shot out of Thomas’ arms and fell onto the floor. He quickly straightened himself and hurried over to open it. “What do you want, Cordelia?” 

She grinned. “I just came to tell you that Lucie and I are eating breakfast downstairs. You should get ready.” 

“You could have said that through the door.” 

“I know,” she smirked. 

She started down the hall, and he closed the door, silently groaning. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked. 

“She’s up to something,” he answered. “We never should have left her and Lucie alone together. They probably spent all night scheming.” 

“Perhaps so,” he laughed. “Only one way to find out, though.” 

Alastair sighed. “You’re right. Okay, I’ll get ready quickly and go down, and then in five, maybe ten minutes, you can follow.” 

Thomas gave him an odd look, but didn’t fight it. “Alright.” 

A few minutes later, he joined Lucie and Cordelia downstairs. Unsurprisingly, Lucie had her notebook and was scribbling away while Cordelia nursed a cup of tea. A cup of black coffee sat in front of the seat he was meant to sit in. He loathed English tea, compared to Persian tea it was nothing more than hot water. None of the other boys had come down yet. 

“Alastair!” Lucie exclaimed when she noticed him. “Did you enjoy your night with Thomas?” 

Cordelia giggled. 

“I… We slept, if that’s what you are asking. That is what we were meant to do here, at an inn, wasn’t it?” 

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Well, it was most peculiar, when I went to request an extra blanket last night, well, it certainly was not sleeping I heard from the hallway…” 

“Cordelia, you didn’t-” 

“I did.” 

“You heard Alastair singing-” 

“He was. In Persian.” 

“In Persian,” Lucie said the words succinctly with no expression on her face, as if she was laying out a fact during a murder trial. 

Once again, Alastair was grateful that no one could see him blush. “Did you two actually get any rest last night or did you just spend it gossiping about me?” 

“Not just you,” Lucie replied. “You and Thomas.” 

“Why do you keep saying his name like that?” 

“You’re welcome, you know,” Cordelia declared smugly. 

Alastair let out an exasperated sigh. “What?” 

“It was all part of the plan, Alastair,” Lucie answered. 

“It was quite brilliant, actually,” Cordelia supplied. “It was all Lucie’s idea. She knew that if we were to stay at an inn, Thomas would jump at the chance to spend a night with you.” 

“And he did, as expected, without hesitation,” Lucie confirmed. 

“The only issue, of course, being me, because we’d be far too obvious a pair for him to try to argue against.” Lucie nodded along to Cordelia’s explanation. “So, Lucie spent all day musing about how much she’d love to spend the night with me, just in case the opportunity arose.” 

“And it did!” Lucie squealed. 

“She’s been planning this since the engagement party,” Cordelia finished. 

“The engagement party?” he responded incredulously. “That was ages ago!” 

“And it has finally come to fruition, has it not?” Lucie babbled excitedly. 

He didn’t give her the dignity of replying. “I only have one question, though - how did you know there would only be one bed?” 

Lucie’s eyes widened. “There was only one bed!” she squealed as she began furiously scribbling into her notebook once again.

DISCLAIMERS: I don’t speak Farsi and the translation that Alastair makes is actually from this document. It’s the poem on page 9 and 10 if you want to check it out! Also, the song that Thomas sings isn’t mine, it’s adapted from “Like A River Runs” by the Bleachers. I tried to write something, but I’ve never experienced what Thomas has, and it’s a very beautiful song written about the loss of Jack Antonoff’s sister. You should listen to it! Though, I imagine Thomas’ version to be a bit less upbeat.

[aliveanddrunkonsunlight]

food

Jaime x Brienne + alternate love languages

For @naomignome

Author’s Note: The previous ficlets, I was writing from their POV for each love language and how they receive that from the other person. Example: how Brienne hears/receives words of affirmation from Jaime. This is flipped, where I’m writing it from the POV of the person who is communicating the love (if that makes sense.)

*

They are both, somehow, alive. The sun peeks over the distant horizon. Carnage and ashes surround them, the stench of battle filling their noses. 

Her chambers. Armor coming off with shaky hands, dirt and sweat stained bodies sagging as they fall into merciful sleep. 

Jaime wakes, not in cold darkness as he expects, but with the quiet rustle of flames in the hearth. The floor is no longer littered with armor. It sits across the table and chairs, his and hers, polished so carefully, the firelight dancing in its sheen. 

Before his feet hit the floor, he knows where he will find her. She is in the moonlit yard, helping the other men build the pyres. He coaxes her back to bed, somehow, but the next morning, he wakes to find her side of the bed already empty. 

The circles under her eyes darken and grow deeper. The crease in her brow remains constant. It is on the third day when he touches her hand in passing, feels the cold clamminess of it, and worries she is turning into one of the creatures they fought. “Bed. Now.” he orders.

She objects, even as he steers her towards their room. She has to help rebuild. It is not your home, my lady. Unless you plan to stay. She has to protect Sansa. You are not Lady Sansa’s sworn sword. She has her guard. What will Pod think? The boy would not wish to see you ill.  

He brings her broth and the freshest bread (for the latter, he might have bribed the kitchen maid to set it aside for him, but Brienne does not need to know) and she swirls the spoon like a petulant child until he threatens to feed her himself. “You’ll end up with broth slung all over the bed sheets,” he teases her, gesturing with his stump. 

In the evening, Pod arrives with more hearty fare and another man carrying a pile of furs. “Before you object that we are stealing these from some unsuspecting soul who needs them when we have plenty,” he tells her after they leave. “Lady Sansa said she was happy to loan them.” He spends far too long arranging the furs and pillows on the hard stone floor in front of the fireplace before he approaches the bed and takes her hand. From the look on her face, she is too shocked to speak.

He arranges the furs carefully around her, Brienne leaning back against him, and he reclines against the legs of a chair. The somewhat uncomfortable seat is worth it for the little sigh she exhales when he wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on her shoulder, the two of them watching the fire. 

She dozes against him and his heart quickens, listening to her steady breath, noticing the way her fingers curl against his thigh. I love you. 

He has said it so rarely since they confessed their feelings to each other, afraid saying it too often would lessen its meaning.  

The next morning, when they wake together, he asks her about Tarth. “Do you mean to return?” 

A shadow passes over her face and her eyes shift away from his. “I should go and see my father.” It sounds like duty more than longing, and he is not sure what to make of that, so instead he kisses her and tells he loves her. It earns him a soft smile, and it is all so easy.

*

On the boat to Tarth, she is excited to show him her home. Her face is open and bright as she tucks her long body against his on the deck. They watch the island grow closer, Brienne pointing out things, her voice soft in his ear, making him shiver. 

When they step off the ship, there is a cavalcade of men awaiting them. Brienne embraces one of them before stepping back and taking his arm, introducing Jaime to her cousin Endrew. “Where is my father?” There is the shadow passing over her face again and an inkling of understanding begins to form. 

“He is waiting to greet you at Evenfall,” her cousin replies.  

Except he is not waiting, he is still meeting with whatever Tarth farmer needs counsel rather than his own daughter, returned from war. 

Finally, a man with broad shoulders and a portly belly appears in the doorway. He has the same broad face as Brienne, only his is half covered by a neatly trimmed white beard. He smiles and opens his arms for a hug, his gray eyes shimmering in the bright white marble of the entrance hall. 

Jaime does not expect her father to be thrilled that she has brought the Kingslayer himself home, but there is skepticism and disappointment on Selwyn’s face which he cannot hide. Brienne asks if he wants to accompany them on a walk before the evening meal, but he brushes her aside, saying he has meetings and duties and and. 

Brienne is oddly quiet as she shows him Evenfall. They take their walk through the grounds, just the two of them, but Jaime notices how she walks a few steps ahead of him, lost in her own thoughts. 

Selwyn is polite, but not warm. At dinner, he asks about their journey, fills Brienne in on trivial matters around the island, but after the small talk is dispensed with, he has little else to say. No questions about Brienne’s experiences on the mainland, none about the man she brought with her. 

There is an absence. An absence in him, an absence which echoes in the halls of this castle. Echoes of her brother, her mother, her siblings. How much grief Brienne has known, true grief, not the false feelings he felt at the news that his eldest son was dead, the mask he wore at his father’s vigil. The dutiful son, the dutiful soldier. 

No, Brienne still carried the memories of her loved ones within, a part of her so deep and recessed, even he did not have access. The longer they sit at her father’s table, the more Jaime realizes she never wished him to see it. Brienne did not want him to see how her father’s ignorance, his neglect, cast such a long shadow over his remaining child. But Jaime does see. The steel core of her begins to melt away. He watches those strong shoulders slump under the weight of childhood hurt. All those half-healed scars.

Brienne has never needed him to protect her. Not when they got taken by the Bloody Mummers, not even at the bear pit, not any moment since, but he wants to stretch his good arm down the length of the table, take up the Evenstar by his collar and shake him. Make him listen, tell him all the ways he should be on his knees thanking his daughter.

Jaime’s hand shakes, thinking of all the words he might use to explain what Brienne has done for him, much less half the kingdom. 

She told me to live. 

She allows him to simply be the man he always wished to be, because she knows he is capable. She does not discredit him for his faults, just as he does not discredit her for hers. It sounds emotionally distant to say they love one another justly, but it’s true. It is equanimity. Any space they are together is one where he can breathe, after decades of what felt like drowning.

He loves her more than he thinks he will ever be able to express, but he does not let it stop him from trying. Words and deeds and touch and the very air in his lungs.

I am so, so sorry, my darling, he tells her that night. She likely does not know what he means, it could easily be an apology for his reputation, the deed which cast the die for his life for so long. He means it as an apology, one which she will never get from her father.  

The next morning, Brienne has gone down to breakfast before he wakes. Standing outside the great hall, he hears their voices echoing inside. “Will you live at the Rock then?” 

“I--I always planned to serve in your stead, but I know that is not what you wished of me.” 

“Nonsense, I only wished you to be happy.” 

“I am.” After a moment, so quietly he has to lean towards the door to hear. “We chose each other.” 

Upon hearing that, Jaime walks outside, needing fresh air. She finds him in the gardens, hand clutched around the seat of a stone bench. He tugs her down into his lap. “I am very proud of you.” 

“Proud of me?” Her forehead wrinkles into that familiar frown. “Why?” 

“Do I need a reason?” he asks in the moment before his mouth covers hers.

*

Their wedding party is tiny and Brienne refuses to have the ceremony in the sept, so they wed on the cliffs overlooking the sea. It is near sunset and light spills across the water in an orangey glow, shimmering in the gold trimmings on her wedding cloak. 

At the small feast afterwards, her father reminds him that Brienne once swore she would only ever wed if the man could beat her in the yard. “She has already done that, my lord, I assure you,” Jaime replies in a voice which makes her whole body flush.

“That is when you were in shackles,” Brienne says, once they are alone in her chambers. 

He laughs. “Well, it is too late now, my love. We are wed.” 

Her blue eyes glitter at him from the other side of the room. “You mean you will not spar with me on our wedding night? I never knew you to be so dull.” 

Jaime chases her around the bed, making her shriek with laughter, and when he catches her, they wrestle against each other on the mattress, both of them grinning like fools. “I happen to know you are quite good at the other type of sparring.”

“Jaime,” she chides him, but a soft laugh falls from her lips as she bends down to kiss him. 

It is well past midnight when she drags him out to the yard. “You cannot let me win,” she warns him at one point as their tourney swords clash. 

He chuckles between his gritted teeth until Brienne breaks the hold they are in. “You forget I am much older than you.”

“No excuses, old man,” she winks at him. 

Jaime knows it is worthless to protest about his left hand. They both fought the dead. Only he likes when Brienne--his wife--can easily best him and it is difficult to summon up his usual competitiveness when she executes a particularly thrilling move. 

He ends up in a rather vulnerable position, on his knees in the dirt, her sword pointed at his throat, only to revel in the slow realization dawning in her eyes. She’s won. That is until he bats her wooden tourney sword away with his left hand and tackles her to the ground. “You cheated.” she accuses, once they both get their breath back. 

He smirks at her, slipping his hand underneath her tunic, delicate fingertips against her skin. “We’ll call it even.”

*

When her father passes, Brienne throws herself into all the things which need to be done. He is the one who coaxes her back to bed. She has to allow herself to rest. She has to allow herself to mourn. She’ll do no one any good running herself ragged. 

This time, he does not have to bribe the kitchen maids. They make Brienne’s favorite dishes and willingly wake in the middle of the night to show Jaime how to warm milk for her, served with a dash of honey, to help her go back to sleep. 

“We were very much alike,” she says to him a few days later, when they are walking in the gardens. “Headstrong. That is why we fought so often.” Jaime is tempted to tell her all the ways they were different, but it would not help anything. Right now, the most important thing he can provide is solace, not unwanted advice. “He tried so hard to understand me. He only wanted something to go right. To see me happily wed, except that was something he wanted. It was not what I wanted. So then,” she takes a shaky breath. “He finally let me go, even though I know he was mocked, chastised that he could not control his own daughter.”

“You represented him honorably. No one could accuse you otherwise.” He presses a gentle kiss to her temple. “And if they try, you can face them in the yard.” 

She has not laughed since her father died, but she smiles then and squeezes his hand. “Thank you.” 

*

Their fifth year of marriage, he arranges for their friends to travel to Tarth. It is an unrealistic request for most, he realizes, but everyone comes. Lady Sansa, his brother, Pod and Peck and Gendry, all of the people who know Brienne’s selflessness and his luck. There is cake and fruit and all manner of sweet things Brienne says she does not like, but which he knows she secretly enjoys. Meat pies and cheese and warm, fresh-baked bread. There is laughter and stories spun over a long meal and good wine. In some ways, it is a happier day than their wedding. 

She laces her fingers through his and they lean against each other, listening to the others late into the night. 

*

For her name day, he and the children bake a cake. Alex’s whole outfit is covered with flour and Alys’ hair is dusted with it. They insist on him writing the script in icing, even with his shaky left hand. When they present it to her that evening, she laughs in delight and kisses all of them, tears shimmering in her eyes. She presses an extra kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, darling.” 

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Hot take: Bakugou's character wouldn't survive if not for the one he kept abusing all his life. 90% of his character revolves around his victim and yet the fandom paints him as this super developed, fleshed out character when in reality he'd never be anything bigger than a side character if not for Deku.

Also the concequences he supposedly received are just him being teased or not getting the win he wanted, no being kidnapped doesn't count, he literally got away with his shit while even been treated like a victim and the privilege to know something about Deku that isn't any of his business. And now because he sacrificed himself that one time the fandom acts like Izuku owes his ass anything. It's disgusting.

I have given up on him actually being half the decent character ppl make him out to be and the fandom reaction to him makes me hate him even more.

He's not complex, he's just a pretty boy, asshole archetype who gets nicer and has some more cooperative and ppl love to eat that shit up while making up stuff for him. He changes but he's doesn't change for what matters and definitely pales in comparison to other characters who are better written than him.

(holy shit, did they remove the character limit on asks?? omg a GODSEND)

Well yeah, if it weren’t for Izuku and how he treats Izuku he wouldn’t have anything to improve from; people only think he’s developed because he no longer outright bullies him and “””worries””” (I say in heavy quotes) about him, and “reflects” on how he treated him even though he.......... comes to the absolute wrongest, most idiotic conclusions imaginable, that put the brunt of the excuses on Izuku instead of himself, but Toshinori validates him because Horikoshi has made Toshi into Bakugou’s uwu stan and stan of the two boys’ “friendship” (completely ignoring the fact that THIS KID FOR TEN YEARS BULLIED HIS SON). He’s basically already been devolved to acting like a side character for a long time now, with his funny anger quirk pun partly intended that’s just treated like a joke at this point, just like everyone else’s character quirks, even though it would be far more interesting for him to, you know. actually get some therapy and learn to calm himself and become an actual pleasant person to be around. But that’s not what makes him “funny”, that’s not him, according to most people, so he’s always going to stay like this, a boring angry pomeranian who flies off the handle at everything for no reason, who has done the absolute bare minimum of “changing”, which makes him a perfect character in everyone’s eyes.

“He changes but doesn’t change for what matters” pretty much sums up the problem with him in a nutshell, and is the exact reason he frustrates me so much, that I’ve ranted about plenty before. Bakugou has never been viewed through the lens of a bully, an abuser, he was never set up to be that, at least not realistically, and so his development hasn’t happened in accordance with that setup either, and people don’t have a problem with it and actively praise it because the manga actively downplay(ed)s the severity of that origin story. People can ignore the reality of how seriously traumatic being bullied for ten years of your childhood, verbally and physically would be, and how seriously and with such sensitivity such a relationship and character arc must be handled, because aside from the very first chapter when Izuku and Bakugou are still in middle school, really, with the “take a swan dive off the roof” comment and others, it’s never focused on in that way ever again; ever since, it’s just been treated as a typical anime “rivalry”, that both of them need to better themselves to overcome. The story and teachers say “the two of them are so alike but they just keep missing each other; if they just made up for each others’ weaknesses and understood that they both want the same thing, they’d be stronger together!”, and Izuku HIMSELF tries so hard to reach through to Bakugou, always still considering him his friend, always feeling like he’s the one equally at fault for their relationship being as rocky as it is, when BAKUGOU!!! FUCKING!!! BULLIED HIM!!! FOR TEN YEARS. bullied a DISABLED CHILD, which again, as a disabled person who relates to Izuku and how he felt about his quirklessness, feelings that continue to affect him even long after he gets a quirk because of how he was treated when he was younger, is DEEPLY unsettling to me. You CANNOT read/watch MHA without the metaphor of quirklessness = disabled being very apparent, and so that makes Bakugou’s bullying and how it is so utterly glossed over and purposefully forgotten a hundred times more disturbing and aggravating than it already is! If this were any other shounen rivalry then yes, it could be resolved with effort from both parties, because both parties have their own personal reasons for why they have trouble getting along with the other, and the fun is watching to see how they will overcome those, but Izuku and Bakugou were never on an equal playing field to begin with; this is a bullying story, with its victim trying desperately to win over and befriend his abuser, when he owes him absolutely NOTHING and has a BOATLOAD of unresolved issues thanks to said bullying, with no outside help from adults for either of them because none of them are acknowledging it as fucking bullying. I guarantee you that if the manga went into much more painful, bleak detail and showed many more flashbacks of how Izuku was treated by Bakugou in the past, and then still continued with the “development” he’s had since, people would be unable to ignore it like they can now, and it would make all of them extremely uncomfortable like it does those of us now who already dislike him. Hori himself has said he doesn’t understand why Bakugou is so popular, but he’s able to just continue as he does with him because no one is complaining, and because he said he regrets making him so awful in the beginning, as if that magically makes it disappear as much as it already has in 90% of the fandom’s collective mind. You wanna know an actual good manga that also deals with a bully of a disabled child growing and improving himself and forming a close relationship with his former victim? A Silent Voice. Such a journey is long, and hard, and it is painful, with many ups and downs and many nasty, hateful, guilt-filled, depression-filled feelings from both sides, along with from other characters who either also partook in the bullying, were bystanders to it who did nothing, or were indirect victims as well. The bully is bullied himself after what he does, and then grows up nearly suicidal, closing himself off and struggling to be social and make new friends because he doesn’t know how and doesn’t entirely feel like he deserves it (and the story notably doesn’t go the route of “he was abused too at home and so that’s why he bullied”), and tries and fails many times to make amends with the person he hurt before he finally is at peace with himself and everyone; the victim, meanwhile, drowns in continued guilt and suicidal feelings over feeling like she’s a burden to others, both from her disability and from watching all the infighting and victim blaming and finger pointing that ensues between her old classmates when all of the nasty emotions are brought back to the surface, along with dealing with budding romantic feelings for her past bully when he genuinely starts being kind towards her and making an effort to connect with her. ASV is entirely about this complex narrative, it’s able to dedicate everything it has to telling this story tactfully and with all the time and attention it needs. MHA, meanwhile, is a shounen battle manga, and so it was never going to do this narrative and Bakugou’s arc justice, even though I honestly think it could have if Hori really wanted to, because Izuku and Toshinori’s relationship has such masterfully subtle and touching emotions and care, at least early on; Horikoshi knows how to write good, subtle character arcs. I’m not asking for something ASV level, of course not, when the series has so many other things it has to juggle. I just wanted Bakugou to be treated as exactly what he is: a former bully, who can be taught, and learn, and reflect, and change, and become a better, more humble, more interesting person, and actually become someone worthy of all the praise and love he gets, not only for Izuku’s sake, but for his own, as well. They don’t excuse his actions in the slightest, but it’s still undeniable that Bakugou himself is a victim of how the adults in his life have treated him and raised his own expectations of himself, giving him the crippling insecurity issues he has, and that they continue to harm him (and Izuku) by simply letting him continue to go on angrily the way he does, instead of getting him help and some therapy in order for him to change and heal from things like being kidnapped by villains (which is no small thing to go through!! on top of his guilt over Toshinori’s final battle!) and becoming a better person to the one he hurt in the past, and it all just makes me so sad, not because I’m all “uwu poor Bakugou”, but just cause his character deserves better, as a person he deserves better, just like Izuku deserves better than everything he’s gone through because of him. This is all just a very long-winded way of agreeing with you OP that yes, none of Bakugou’s “punishments” for his behavior mean anything because he’s punished as a rival student who needs to humble himself in order to get along with his friend he doesn’t like, not as a former(??) bully who needs to be separated from his victim. The bar is set so low, was never set where it should be, and so absolutely no progress to “better himself” Bakugou makes either will mean anything, as long as it’s never acknowledged that he needs to make amends as a bully and abuser.

[real-american]

Supernatural: A dedication to its memory and how the show changed my life

Fifteen Years. 15 years and over 300 episodes of the greatest show on TV. 15 years of joy, heartache, tears, fun and inspiration; and for me, 15 years, two marriages one divorce, two tattoos and a show that brought me the love of my life. Supernatural has impacted us all on so many levels. I could easily write a 15 page academic paper on the seasons, the meanings behind each season and all the little things that made the show so great. Things such as the music, the brothers Winchester, the family dynamic, and the beautiful 1967 Chevy Impala (my dream car should I win the lottery. Black four door version of course). I could go on about each major and minor character, how they impacted the show and what each of them meant to me and the fans but this is not what this is about. This post is about how Supernatural changed my life and how it impacted me.

First a few housekeeping things to address regarding the final season and the series finale. I thought the pre finale show was excellent but definitely could have been longer and included more. However I do understand they only had 42 minutes or so to cram 15 years of memories and characters in so I understand they had to only hit the highlights. They should do a longer version for the Blue Ray 15 season collectors set which I'm sure they will make and that I am definitely getting. Regarding the final season, I thought it was excellent. My wife, who is also a big fan of the show (more on her later) didn't think it was as good as other seasons but enjoyed it none the less. The ending was good sort of expected with the two boys ending up in heaven together, but I was surprised they killed Dean in the sort of nonchalant way they did. Sort of anti climactic for the greatest hunter in the world. The final speech to Sam was heartbreaking and heartfelt and I loved it! I also loved the symmetry of how Sam's son Dean also gave him permission to leave this world as Sam gave (original) Dean all those years later. I'm glad they didn't show who Sam's wife was and she was just left as a mysterious place holder. Originally I thought maybe they should have had him with Eileen but in retrospect the way they did it was better and honestly I'm not sure if she (or the other AU folk) were even brought back with the rest of the world. Maybe someone can clear this point up for me. I was really surprised they didn't do the "carry on my wayward son" beginning but I soon figured out before it even happened they were going to do it in the end of the episode which turned out to be much better. All in all I give the last season an A- and the finale and how it ended an A+ Again there is a lot to say about the final season, the final episode, and all the seasons but I will leave that analysis to other people. This is about what the show meant to me specifically about how it helped me through my darkest days and ushered in my brightest of days which I am living now. This is that story.

I wasn't with Supernatural from the very beginning. The show premiered in 2005 and I honestly hadn't heard anything about it or did I know anything about it for a few years. I came off active duty from the Marine Corps in June of 2005 and after fighting my beloved country's wars for a few years I was out of the loop on many things. I first came across Supernatural on TNT catching a re run here and there but with no real interest and only getting bits and pieces of the story. In 2010 I met my first wife and was a casual fan at this point seeing enough re runs on TNT to get a general idea of the storyline for the first few seasons but again only as a casual fan. At this point of my life I was also falling down a dark hole. My alcoholism which is a result of my PTSD from my combat service started to get really bad. I was drinking more than most people could handle but as my father was, highly functional. This led to me staying with and eventually marrying my first wife which was a bad idea. She cheated on me constantly and probably didn't even really love me. We were also polar political opposites (you can figure out my political viewpoints from the rest of my blog) and not compatible really in the least. Why I ever stayed with her and married her is beyond me at this point in my life. So there I was drinking my life away in a bad relationship and trying to figure out how to manage my life. Then Supernatural came on Netflix and I decided to give it a real shot. This decision changed my life.

I quickly caught up on the first six seasons and started watching the show live starting with season 7. I was hooked. I loved everything about it. Dean and Sam, Cass the car, the brotherly love, the monsters, the angels, everything but I still didn't know how this show would impact me in the end. I continued to drink myself to death getting unhealthier fatter and no longer resembling the fit Marine I once was. I was in a constant haze drinking an entire bottle of whiskey every night to drink away the pain of my bad marriage and the pain of not being loved and cheated on by my wife. Supernatural was the one bright spot in my life.

In 2014 I finally divorced my wife but this was only the first step. I continued to drink and destroy my life causing me to get fired from my job. Fortunately I was hired on back into government work making much better money and with having no wife and no kids was finally able to live a little better financially but I was lonely and alone except for the alcohol. I continued to find refuge in the bottle but also in Supernatural. I watched every episode as it came on, re watched all the old episodes, blogged and facebooked about it to the point that I am sure I was annoying the one or two friends that I had. The rest of my life was a blur. Get up, stumble into work drunk or hungover, go home sick and jonesing for my next drink, bottle of whiskey till one in the morning, a few hours of sleep and starting the whole cycle back over. I was fat, ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside, and a bad human being. My drinking got so bad I destroyed my liver and was medically discharged from my job but was given retirement for all my years of service to the federal government. So now I was 33 retired with a pension and VA disability and really nothing to do but sit at home drink whiskey and watch TV. I had no love in my life, one or two close friends who didn't like being around me anymore because of my drinking, and my family was worried but couldn't get through to me. Even after my father died of alcohol abuse in 2015 I still continued down my destructive path. Finally in February of 2017 I was hospitalized and was told I would be dead in less than a year. I truly believe I was touched by God at this point because I went home dumped out three bottles of alcohol and never touched the stuff again to this day.

Now I had to learn to relive my life all over without alcohol. I started to exercise and lose weight (90 pounds in 5 months) I went back to church, and I started to try and find love again and of course needing distraction and something to occupy my mind I dove deep into Supernatural. I re watched and re watched again all the old episodes, I poured myself into analysis of the plot lines and characters, I got tattoos on my arms (the demon trap and the anti possession symbol), I obsessed with everything Supernatural. It helped me stay sober. When I wanted a drink I would watch an episode, when I was feeling lonely I would go hang out with Sam and Dean. When I wanted to give up I took refuge in the Impala. I became a super fan. So far Supernatural got me through my divorce, was my bright spot in my alcoholic haze, and helped me stay sober when I first gave up my demons. I cheered harder during the happy moments of the show and cried harder in the sad ones. I was an emotional wreck and my feelings only seemed to come out while watching the show. Although I had quit drinking, got rid of my toxic ex wife and started to improve my life, I was still not happy. I was alone and lonely but Supernatural came to my rescue once again.

Throughout 2017 and the first part of 2018 I managed to be in two relationships. I poured myself into them grasping at them as if they were my reward for turning my life around and ignoring all the signs that they were not good relationships. I was still learning to relive my life as a sober person. I never integrated back into society after I left the Corps in 2005 and finally I was doing so but it was a hard journey. Inevitably those relationships failed and I was utterly heartbroken each time, but Supernatural was always there through the good times and the bad. When my heart was broken I would go find refuge in my favorite show forgetting about my problems and trying to help Sam and Dean solve theirs. Finally in May of 2018 I decided to try and find love again. This time it would be different and this time it was Supernatural that helped me get there.

As part of my recovery and daily routine I started to eat at my local diner everyday. Everyday from about July 2017 to the present time in this story I would go in, order 2 eggs over easy, hash browns, sausage, and toast. Everyday I would sit in the same spot at the counter (counter 6 was the name of the spot) order the same thing and even had my own special coffee mug. I knew everyone who worked there by name and they all knew me by name. They knew my order and had it ready for me when I came in. It felt like a magical place, a place that would forever change my life. There was one waitress/cook that I didn't see very often. She mostly worked the night shift but occasionally I would see her if I was there later in the day than usual or if she occasionally worked a morning shift. I was drawn to this woman. About the middle of May in 2018 I decided to maybe try and work up the courage to ask her out. I would always look for her when I went in hoping she was working that day hoping she wasn't too busy so that I could exchange a few words with her and hoping she would even notice me. Then one day in July I went in and she was there. I said hello and ate my breakfast but we didn't talk much. When I was paying for my meal the other gal working there asked  what my plans were for the day and I said oh nothing much just gonna go home and watch Supernatural. Then she turned around. The woman I had been trying to talk to, the one I wanted to ask out, Michelle was her name. She said, "I love that show I'm watching season 13 on DVD right now". I perked up a smile came across my face. Nervously I said, "oh cool yeah its my favorite show" Michelle nodded and turned back to work, I went to my car got in and smiled. I knew how I was gonna break the ice now next time. A few days later on my daily visit to the diner I went in a little later than usual. It was about 3 in the afternoon. It was dark and gloomy, raining, and cold. It felt like a Supernatural episode. It felt like a 67 Impala should have been in the parking lot and two good looking hunters should be in the corner on a laptop researching their current case. It felt like a magical moment. Turns out I was the only customer in the whole place. It was just me the waitress and Michelle who was cooking that day. They took my order without asking as the usually did and I could already see Michelle had already started cooking it. She finished and brought it to me herself. We exchanged a look and a feeling of confidence I have never had in my life overcame me and I said to her, "So are you enjoying season 13?" That is how it all began we started talking about the show. How we started watching it who our favorite characters were, how much we loved this season or that one. The conversation was seamless. We got into other get to know you topics around our conversation about Supernatural and it was like we were old friends talking about a show we loved. Eventually I got up and went to pay the waitress and she turned to go back to the kitchen in the back. Feeling an opportunity slip away I said "hey Michelle, maybe we should go get some dinner some time and watch some Supernatural together". I held my breath. She would surely smile and politely say no. She probably gets asked out all the time by the customers, beautiful woman that she is. Then she smiled and said "sure that would be great" I must have smiled so big and my heart skipped 10 beats! I got her number which she wrote on a order ticket and the rest they say is history. Ten months later I wrote ,"will you marry me" on the back of that order ticket and gave it to her at counter 6 at the diner where we met, where we first started talking about Supernatural, where my life finally changed for the better forever, and she said yes! We were married two months later on our one year anniversary and we just watched the final episode together yesterday. We both had tears, we both smiled when Sam and Dean, soulmates, were finally together at the end because we both know how it feels to be with each others soulmate. We held each others hand and said goodbye together.

Supernatural has forever changed me. It has been with me through every major event in my life over the last 15 years. Through the dark times, through the hard times, and finally through the current happy times. I guess it is ok that Supernatural is over now. I no longer need it. I have my wife, my Michelle, my soulmate. I am finally happy. I have Sam and Dean's permission to move on and they have mine. Good bye Winchesters. Good bye and thank you. You have taught me to carry on and find my peace when I'm done, and to cry no more. This is but one man's story, one of so many. How many lives has this show changed? How many people have found comfort in the adventures of Sam and Dean? I'm not sure the answer. Too many to count I would wager. 15 years and 300 episodes of the greatest show ever on TV. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.  

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 6

okay so I wasn’t originally going to include the entire scene in Lessa’s office but, once again, my words ran away from me. now you get this beast of a chapter. it’s the longest one yet, coming in at a whopping 4,383 words so think of it as an apology for letting my other fic take over for a sec and also taking like a million years to post this.

I started working on Luke’s POV because I am nothing if not a fan of jumping the gun, and his writing style is so different and living in his head is such an adorable journey of Julie Molina obsession. really excited for you to see some of the stuff that’s been going on for our sweet lil soft boy. also, if you notice the dialogue style changing a little bit in this/future chapters it’s so I can have the same scenes without a ton of repeated dialogue in Luke’s POV.

writer’s block anecdote of the day: I keep flipping Luke and Alex’s name in Luke’s POV because one of the main OCs in my novel is actually named Alex and has been since I started working on this novel a literal decade ago. oh and there is also an OC named Owen. someday I’ll learn to give my characters unique names, but not today!

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist​​

Once they were close enough to risk running into other students, Julie dropped Luke’s hand. She made a point of ignoring the frown he gave her, using her now free hand to reach up and adjust her hat. Only, her hat wasn’t there. Her hands landed on loose, untamed curls instead and she immediately turned to Luke with a small amount of panic already building in her chest. He gave her a funny look, and then seemed to notice her hair and somehow understood completely. His hands reached up to lower hers. He let his grasp linger for just a moment before letting go, leaving her hands to dangle limply at her sides. Only his gaze held her in place.

“I never really liked that hat. Your hair is too pretty to cover up like that.”

He said it like a fact. The sky is blue, the sun is hot, your hair is too pretty to cover up. Julie felt a swell of emotions rise again, threatening to overwhelm her. But then he was off towards the front of the school throwing a very casual, “You coming?” over his shoulder at her. She raced to catch up, emotions beaten back for the time being.

They joined the surge of bodies filtering through the front doors. Alex and Reggie stood off to the side inside the entryway of the school. It was impossible to miss the tall blonde in his light pink sweatshirt standing next to the shorter boy in leather. Luke didn’t hesitate to weave his way over to them, but Julie hung back. She wasn’t really sure what was going on between them, wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable enough to just tag along behind him. She caught sight of Flynn’s hot pink beanie bouncing in the distance and let out a sigh of relief. She could separate from Luke here, talk to Flynn, get some perspective on this whole situation.

Luke glanced back at her then. She saw the question in his eyes, felt her heart race when he gave a little side nod like he was inviting her to join him. She swallowed and gave him a half-hearted smile before jerking her thumb over her shoulder in Flynn’s direction. He frowned, but she was already turning away. She pretended she didn’t hear him call her name, slipping into the crowd of students, letting it swallow her up so she could disappear from his sight. Eyes locked on Flynn’s back she moved farther away from the Sunset Curve boys. Flynn only jumped a little when Julie snuck up behind her.

“Jesus, Jules! You scared the shit out of me!”

Her best friend’s familiar voice washed over her like a comforting blanket. All at once, Julie was word vomiting the entire night.

“Flynn, oh my God. He had Mom’s song and he saved it for like, a whole year, and then he gave it to me yesterday, and holy shit I forgot how beautiful it is. And you’re not gonna believe this but I played, like I actually played the piano and sang, and it was like homecoming, it was like the biggest rush, like my mom was right there in the studio with me. And then, oh my god, now you’re really not gonna believe this, but oh my god, then Luke freaking Patterson showed up out of nowhere and he uh might have stayed on the pull-out couch, and then he uhm he made me breakfast this morning? And we walked here together?? He was like...doing this thing where his eyes were going all starry and soft and he was saying really sweet things and it was...a lot and I really don’t know what’s going on with that but uhm I’m kinda freaking out. Also, hey good morning, how are you?”

If Flynn’s mouth opened any wider Julie thought she might unhinge her jaw. In a sea of bustling students, it felt like they were in a bubble all their own. She anxiously fiddled with the bracelets on her wrists as she watched the gears turn behind her best friend’s eyes. After a full two minutes of silence, Flynn’s hand flew out to latch onto Julie’s bicep. Without a word she dragged her down the hallway and into an empty practice room. Flynn released her grip, Julie rubbing at her arm, jeez Flynn was strong!, while the other girl closed the door and flipped on the light that indicated the room was in use. She whirled around, her eyes drilling into Julie’s.

“You’re gonna start at the beginning of that whole mess of truth bombs and spill every last detail about exactly what happened with Luke ‘freaking’ Patterson. Right now. Starting with the bit about your mom’s song.”

Julie took a deep breath and slowly walked Flynn through the events of the last few days, from the moment she had run into Luke after her meeting with Ms. Harrison to when she ran away from him this morning as he was calling her name. Distantly, she was aware of the bell ringing, but it was only homeroom anyway. What did that matter when she was having an existential crisis? Flynn’s mouth only hung open a little bit by the time she was finished telling the story again. Julie felt her shoulders slump. What an emotional rollercoaster. Flynn was quiet for a long moment. Then, she smirked at Julie with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Hmph. Looks like my girl’s got a crush, and his name is Luke. I cannot believe you’ve been holding out on me like this!”

She was teasing, her tone light with a little bit of a mocking sing-song quality to it. But Julie could hear the undercurrent of worry running through her words. She had become quite adept at detecting that particular vocal quality in the last year. She sighed.

“Whatever. Can we focus on the more important revelation that I played the piano and sang again?”

Flynn, best friend that she was, gracefully allowed the subject change.

“Jules, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you! How did you feel? Alive again?”

Julie laughed, the sound feeling easy and light as it left her chest.

“Yeah, actually, that’s exactly how I felt. It was...honestly, it felt magical. It really did feel like my mom was there with me. There was this sense of peace that just felt...”

She shivered, remembering the sensation of ghostly arms around her shoulders.

“I can’t really describe it. But it was like something just clicked, and I realized that the best way to remember my mom and honor her is through music. The music we made together and the music I’ll make in the future. Rose Molina’s musical legacy will live on in me, and that feels pretty special.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face or the happiness from her voice. Peace really had been found out in that studio last night. Julie felt more ready than ever to move out of the darkness she’d kept wrapped around her like a shield for the last year.

“That’s beautiful.”

Flynn pulled Julie into her arms, the two girls sharing a long hug. The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom, before either girl could say anything more. They left the practice room together, splitting up when they reached their respective classroom doors. Julie swallowed thickly as she settled herself in the back of her Calc class. This was one of the classes she shared with Luke, although she had conveniently forgotten that fact until the moment she sat down at her desk. He appeared in the doorway within seconds, giving her no chance to properly prepare herself. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he started to make a beeline for the desk next to hers before their teacher caught him.

“Patterson! You know the deal.”

Not even Luke’s best pout could win over Ms. May. She simply raised a brow and pointed at the seat he had been assigned at the front of the classroom. Julie let out a small sigh of relief. It was hard not to smile at Luke’s dramatics as he slumped over and slowly shuffled his way to his desk. He dropped into his seat with a loud huff, glancing over his shoulder at Julie with forlorn expression. She rolled her eyes, smothering her smirk behind her hand. The bell rang again, and he turned his attention to the front of the room as Ms. May called the class to order.

He didn’t stop sneaking looks back at her the entire class period though. It made her want to squirm in her seat every time she dared peek at him and caught him watching her in return. He would always give her one of those soft, sweet smiles and then turn back to his work. It was unsettling, especially when she thought of how he hadn’t paid much attention to her in this particular class before today. Although, now that she really thought about it, maybe he had. Julie had basically been living in a fog of grief for the last year. The school could have caught on fire and she probably wouldn’t have noticed it until her clothes were burning.

She was almost grateful when one of the front desk aides appeared in the door to their classroom. Kayla made direct eye contact with her before knocking on the door frame to get Ms. May’s attention.

“Julie Molina is needed in the office.”

A tense silence fell over the classroom. Every single student remembered the last time Julie had been called down to the office in the middle of a class. Even Ms. May’s eyes flickered with pity for a moment before she gave Julie a gentle smile and nod. Julie stood slowly, forcing herself to keep her breath even as she gathered her books and papers into her backpack. 22 pairs of eyes watched her slowly make her way to the front of the room. One pair burned hotter than the others. Julie met Luke’s eyes for the smallest fraction of a second. Just long enough to see the concern rise up in them. Then she was out the door, walking the uncomfortably familiar path to the front office.

“It’s Lessa. And I think your dad.”

Kayla’s quiet voice startled her. She looked to her left, surprised to find the other girl keeping pace with her. Julie had thought she would walk ahead or peel off to deliver other messages. Instead, she got a small but genuine smile.

“Look, I know things are weird because of the Carrie thing, but I just didn’t want you to freak out too much. Frankly, I think Lessa’s kinda a bitch to pull you out of class like that. She’s an idiot if she doesn’t remember...well anyway. It’s something school related, not like a family thing.”

Kayla briefly squeezed her bicep, almost like she wished she could give Julie a hug. Then she was off down a separate hallway, waving the stack of messages in her hand at Julie as a goodbye. Julie watched her go for a second, feeling off balance and surprisingly emotional. Kayla was a Dirty Candy girl. In the battle lines that had been drawn between Julie and Carrie, Kayla’s position was as obvious as Flynn’s. For all intents and purposes, she shouldn’t be looking out for Julie, and yet, she was anyway. Julie wondered how many small protective moments she had missed from her classmates in the last year. Maybe she hadn’t been quite as alone as she had always felt. She took a deep breath and finished the walk to the front office, a little more ready to face what was on the other side.

Knowing it was school related and that her dad had been called down sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine for a different reason. It had to be something about the music program. Not for the first time, Julie regretted keeping it from her dad for this long. She was out of time now. At least she could thank the universe for small favors. If it had been her Tía in this meeting, Julie’s life would be over. Her dad was more understanding. They would be able to get through this. Julie forced herself to square her shoulders and enter the office with more confidence than she felt. Her mom’s words echoed in her mind you can do it. It was all the strength she needed.

At least until the door to Principal Lessa’s office was closing behind her, and she was face-to-face with her heartbroken father.

“Julie. Take a seat, please.”

Lessa’s voice lacked its usual bite. She just sounded tired. Julie felt that down to her bones. She slipped into the seat next to her dad without a word.

“I’m going to get right to the point. Two of us,” her eyes narrowed slightly on Julie who shifted in her seat in response, “knew this meeting was coming. The other one of us has now been informed as to why it was called.”

The weight of her father’s stare was crushing her. Julie didn’t have to look to see the disappointment there. It was rolling off of him in tsunami sized waves. Lessa continued talking despite the uncomfortable tension growing in the air.

“Now. We have several options. As you both know, Los Feliz is at its core an arts academy. We ask that our students participate in at least one of the arts programs. Participate being the key word there. Julie, it’s clear that participation in our music department isn’t something you’re able to do right now. While we were able to offer you a grace period, we have other students applying for the position you aren’t using. It’s only fair to allow them the chance to participate if you won’t.”

Julie was not going to cry. Not here in front of Principal Lessa and her dad, trapped on school grounds where everyone would see her when she left. She bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could, letting Lessa’s soft but firm voice wash over her without absorbing anything she was saying.  She caught bits and pieces: Lessa offering her a spot in the less desirable subset of illustration in the fine arts department with a chance to reapply for the music department the following semester, her dad requesting information about the new program as well as copies of her transcripts in case they decided to move schools, Lessa’s voice softening as she apologized, her dad’s growing even softer as he thanked her for everything the school had done so far. Then the meeting was wrapping up, and her dad was shaking Lessa’s hand, and Julie was focusing on her backpack so she could get the hell out of there. She barely caught the sad smile Lessa gave her as she said, “Good luck, Julie” in that same goodbye tone Ms. Harrison had used on Monday. Julie had never been so desperate for her old hat to hide behind as she was in that moment.

She shuffled along behind her dad. It was obvious the school day was over for Julie. He was quiet as they made their way out of the office and into the empty hallway. Class had been dismissed while they were with Lessa. Julie was thankful there weren’t any other students around to witness her downfall. Her dad almost made it out of the building before rounding on her. Almost.

“I cannot believe you tried to hide this from me! I thought I raised you better than that, mija. You’re lucky your Aunt had a work meeting she couldn’t miss. Why didn’t you come to me?”

It was the overwhelming disappointment in her dad’s tone that did Julie in. She had never been able to stomach letting her parents down. If Ray’s voice was any indication, she may have reached the rock bottom of let downs.

“I’m sorry.”

She was. She truly was. She didn’t know why she had kept it from her dad except that if she had told him then she would have had to admit it was real. She hadn’t wanted to face that reality just yet.

“I just don’t understand, Julie. You still like music, right? Is it the school? We can find a different music program. You don’t have to stay here just because your mom loved it so much.”

Julie opened her mouth to argue that actually that was exactly why she had to stay here, but a different voice cut her off. An annoyingly familiar voice that had her heart racing and her palms sweating.

“Julie!”

She nearly groaned aloud. Never before in her life had Julie wished to disappear as much as she did right now. Just open a hole in the floor and jump right into it. The absolute last thing she needed right now was Lucas freaking Patterson getting in the middle of this dressing down. Hell, she didn’t even want him witnessing it let alone trying to get involved. She clenched her jaw, ignored her dad’s pointedly raised eyebrow, and turned on her heel to meet the teenage boy that suddenly seemed to be haunting her every step.

“Luke. Hi.”

She kept her voice flat, the go away clear in her tone. His steps faltered for a second, but she could tell by the way his shoulders bounced that he wasn’t going to be so easily deterred. She had run away from him this morning and been saved multiple times in Calc. He wasn’t going to let her avoid him anymore. He approached her and her dad with all the cool confidence a 17-year-old boy in a band could muster. Her mouth almost fell open when he bypassed her completely to stick his hand out towards Ray.

“Luke Patterson. You must be Mr. Molina. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

His smile was genuine and charming, his lyrical voice all too polite. Julie wanted to scream as she watched her dad fall for it. Could she not have one single embarrassing moment to herself anymore? Was she doomed to play out the moments she came off looking the worst in front of this cute boy for the rest of her life? Her dad’s eyes lit up as he shook Luke’s hand. Julie wished she could bash her head against something.

“Patterson? Mitch and Emily’s boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Only Julie caught the way his smile tightened and his shoulders raised defensively at the mention of his parents.

“Wow, you’ve grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you! Good people, your parents.”

Julie rolled her eyes at the dad-ness of it all.

“I forgot you were in the music program with Julie...”

She couldn’t help but cringe as her dad’s words trailed off. That statement had been enough to remind him why he was here in the first place. He turned away from Luke to give her another heartbroken look. She hung her head to escape the censure behind his eyes.

“I am. Actually, that’s why I was trying to find Julie! She was late for rehearsal.”

Julie whipped her head up to glare at the boy still bobbing in front of them. He was trying to cover for her not knowing Lessa had blown that opportunity sky high not even 5 minutes ago. It was sweet in a misguided way, but it was also a painful reminder of all the things Luke had that she didn’t.

“He knows I got kicked out. You don’t have to lie for me.”

Her voice was sharp, and she was fully prepared for the kicked puppy look she was sure he would give her, but instead his smile only grew. His bouncing became impossibly springier, like gravity just didn’t apply to him. And then he winked, actually winked, at her.

“Awh, c’mon, Jules!”

His whine was just the right amount of playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Her heart did a weird flip in her chest.

“I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but the poor man is clearly suffering! We should let him in on our little secret.”

Julie’s glare intensified as she ignored the way the words our little secret hit the softest part of her heart. What the hell was he playing at? He winked again, something that should be outlawed given the way it made her stomach drop and knees weaken. Then he held up his hands in a half-hearted I give up gesture.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to tell him about the plan to get you back into the music program if you don’t want to.”

If this were a cartoon, Julie was sure her eyes would have popped out of her skull completely at those words. As it were, she settled on doing everything she could to keep her jaw from dropping. She had absolutely no clue what he was going on about, but he clearly had some sort of agenda. There was a script to this encounter, she just hadn’t been given her lines. She saw her father shift out of the corner of her eye, arms raising to fold across his chest as he took in the scene unfolding between the two teenagers. Luke was still talking, apparently deciding to capitalize on Julie’s stunned silence.

“I just think it would be helpful if he knew about it. Then we wouldn’t have to sneak around so much. I know you wanted to have it be a big reveal, but we can still surprise your aunt!”

Her dad turned to her with a raised brow, confusion and the smallest seeds of hope growing behind his gaze.

“¿Mija?”

Julie wanted to punch a locker and also vomit. What the actual hell was Luke Patterson doing? She had no frame of reference for whatever game he was playing. No way of knowing if it was serious or some sort of prank. She looked away from her dad to meet Luke’s eyes. He gave her a small, pleading smile, silently begging her to trust him. His eyes became impossibly gentle and she saw that same boy from the studio last night and the kitchen this morning peeking out at her. Ultimately, it was that intimate reminder of his softer side that made her cave.

“It’s nothing, Papí. Just some hair-brained scheme Luke came up with.”

She raised her brow in a challenge, communicating with that one twitch that she wanted to see his endgame here. His face lit up like the 4th of July. She was sure if they had been alone he would have let out a victory whoop. He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, biceps flexing in his best cool kid impersonation.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Molina. We’re getting just as much out of this as you are.”

She didn’t have time to snap back that she wasn’t sure she was getting anything out of whatever ‘this’ was before he was plowing ahead.

“See, my band and I lost our fourth member earlier this year, and we have our Junior Showcase coming up, but man, it’s been a serious struggle to find our sound without Bobby, and we really gotta nail this Showcase. It’s like the one where managers scout out who they really wanna pay attention to as a senior, so we gotta be the best.”

Julie saw where he was going with this before he actually got there, but it was too late to stop him. That was what she got for playing along with his stupid game in the first place.

“And see, I finally figured out that what we really need is someone like Julie to elevate us to that level. Your daughter is a freaking wrecking ball of talent, Mr. Molina. It took a lot of begging, but she finally agreed to play with us. There’s no way Lessa won’t put her back in the music program after we play together.”

His grin was a mile wide, pride shining from his pores. He was 100% sure of this plan, she could see it in the way he looked at her. Absolute blind faith in her. It was as flattering as it was terrifying.

“I see.”

Her dad’s voice was shockingly contemplative. Like he was actually considering supporting this crazy idea. He looked at Luke thoughtfully.

“Do Principal Lessa and Ms. Harrison know about this plan?”

Luke’s hand raised for one quick nervous scratch at the back of his neck. He gave her dad his most charming smile.

“Sometimes you’ve gotta go into ambush mode. Swing that wrecking ball of talent and smash some rules, eh?”

If it were any other parent, that line would have probably been the worst possible thing to say. But this was Ray Molina, whose first date with Rose had involved a small amount of breaking and entering as well as a large amount of running from cop cars and stealing kisses while hiding in alleyways. Rose had never met a rule worth following, and it was part of the reason Ray had fallen in love with her in the first place. Luke had sealed the deal without even really trying. Julie was doomed.

“I like it.”

Ray’s smile was almost as large as Luke’s. It was scary how similar they looked right now, enthusiasm shining in their eyes with an intensity that was borderline maniacal. There would be no getting out of this now.

“Why don’t you boys come over to the house after school? You can practice in our studio.”

Julie didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before Luke was agreeing. She watched him shake her dad’s hand once again, some weird kind of bonding look passing between the two of them. Her dad wrapped a tight arm around her shoulder, and then turned them both towards the front doors again. Julie cast one final look at Luke over her shoulder, heart skipping a beat as he bit his lip and gave her yet another wink.

“See ya later, boss!”

Had her dad not been holding her up, Julie would have melted right into a puddle of mush. Yup, she was totally and completely doomed.

[pinkhairedlily]

In Retrospect

Chapter 6 of The Spring He Came Back | 6 of 12

Hitsugaya had a plan – become the youngest tenured faculty in the academy and have countless watermelon contests with Baba and Momo. Graduation and tenure meant freedom to come home, to live out the rest of his days with the only family he knew. What he did not take into consideration was the prospect of marriage.

“That’s your plan?” Rangiku asked incredulously. Hidden between those words, he knew, was mockery. “You really are going through puberty.”

“Shut up, Rangiku. What do you know?”

“As a lady soon to reach the prime age of 18, I know a lot more than you. Raging hormones, pulls of attraction, intense infatuation-“

Hitsugaya had to cut her off before she ventured into more delicate matters, Rangiku-style. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t intend to marry.”

“Unless you see yourself marrying Hinamori, then you’re set for life. Otherwise, it’s an overly simplistic plan dead set on failing.”

“I don’t think of her like that. She’s just…my friend or like a sister.”

Rangiku didn’t say anything back then, but she brought it up again during their trip to Karakura. “Hey Hitsugaya. If you see Momo as your sister, why do you go through the extra mile for her? Sneaking out to meet her? Studying how to preserve daffodils? Renting out the custodian room? With family, you assume they’ll always be there, but you act as if you always need to do something for her to stay.”

He pretended to doze off right at that moment to avoid answering her question, simply because he was also confused. Momo is home, that he knew for sure. When the academy opened its gates for general admission, he half-expected Momo to apply. She was curious of the world and has a way with nature and plants. She would be interested in a formal education, at the very least. When she got accepted, he was beyond happy despite the black and white rules of classism and made-up hierarchy. When she told him she would like to be considered as a Soul core member, he wondered if that was her personal dream. Regardless, he rooted for her success. He always believed in her capabilities, and he never saw her lagging behind. She has her own pace and her own road to pave while he has his. In his mind, they were two separate journeys hoping to merge at the end of their respective successful conclusions.

So when did the realization set in that their paths have indefinite forks, forever parallel in their progress? Was it when he heard the uncertainty in her voice when their friends told her about the repercussions of her eventual Soul membership? Was it the twinkle in her eyes when she first told him she volunteered to assist Aizen in his studies? Was it the delivery of the news from Unohana that Aizen did not advocate for her membership to Soul, stating that Momo herself denied the offer? Or was it the tacit recklessness of her fieldwork which left Baba alone in the process?

“Where the fuck did you go, Momo?”

Tired eyes stared back at him and she mustered an apologetic smile. “I was in a fieldwork, Shirou. I’ll make it up to Baba, I promise.” Before she could take any step further, she suddenly collapsed on the ground. He ran towards her in a flurry, his heartbeat pounding wildly on his chest. He brought her inside, his feet knowing where her room was, and his mouth calling for Baba. Momo was running a high fever, possibly from fatigue and extended exposure to foreign elements.

“Do I need to call a doctor?” Baba was breathless as she entered the room. She placed her palm on her grandchild’s forehead and released a breath in relief. “We don’t have to. I’ll brew a medicinal tea. Help me gather the herbs Hitsugaya.”

The sun was setting when he got back, but Momo was still unconscious. He sat next to her futon and replaced the towel on her forehead. Somehow the temperature lowered down. It was so unlike Momo to leave Baba alone for two weeks, and especially during her birthday. He couldn’t help but feel angry towards Aizen. It was clear he was overworking her with no regards to her physical health. He didn’t even bother to check if his assistant was in good condition when they wrapped up the on the field. Then again, Momo was not the type to complain and openly state her well-being.

Books, notes, and papers were strewn around her once immaculate room. Too busy and overworked to clean, he thought. A folder with the label ‘References’ caught his attention. Curious if it contained the literature she was studying, he opened it. Contrary to his expectation, it was full of Aizen’s university records – from his student days to his faculty experience. The professor should have been tenured by now, considering his qualifications, publications, and pedigree, but he kept bouncing from one university to another. Maybe he just doesn’t want to settle down?

It dawned on him that Momo’s admiration for Aizen ran deep. She deferred the membership because that would take her away from the professor’s side. She didn’t need the academy or the prestige of being identified as a Soul. She only needed Aizen’s referral to apply in the same universities he studied in. Unfamiliar emotions rose to the surface. She chose a dream away from his side but closer to the professor’s. The fork in their roads was a deliberate, conscious decision, and he felt slighted at the implication.

Beside the folder was a photocopy of a list of equations and diagrams. Scrawled at the bottom were notes in a handwriting very familiar to him. Why was the work of his internship mentor, Urahara Kisuke, in Aizen’s studies?

Hitsugaya was broken out of his reverie when Momo stirred from her sleep. He hovered above her, checking again her temperature and called for Baba. She stared at him through her hooded eyes. “You stayed, Shirou?”

“Of course, silly. No one can drag your heavy body from the ground but me.”

“Did you win?”

“It was a draw. Ishida was too good for us and could have won with a landslide, but thank God Ichigo messed up his presentation.” He assisted Baba in helping Momo drink the herbal medicine. The old woman was near tears when Momo apologized for missing out on her birthday.

“My dear, just rest and recuperate. We’ll never leave your side. Let’s celebrate on another day, okay?” Baba placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Momo nodded weakly.

Baba shuffled out the room, a weight lifted off from her shoulders. “I’ll be preparing dinner, Hitsugaya. Are you going to stay the night?”

Momo was out of the woods, and Baba has all the ingredients for medicine. He was worried, but ultimately, he knew he wasn’t needed here. “I should go.”

A hand reached out under the blanket and wrapped itself loosely around his wrist, the fingers cold and clammy. “Shirou.” She didn’t need to say anything more. It was the silent plea in her voice and his uncontrollable urge to care for her. He swayed to her words as if he was programmed to do so the day he set foot in this world,

“On second thought, I might sleep here, Baba.” The old woman smiled at her two charges, happy to see them reunited despite the circumstances. She hummed a tune on her way back to the kitchen.

Hitsugaya also smiled, wanting time to revert to days of tranquility and blissful ignorance. He plied her fingers off his wrist, wanting to place it back under the comfort of her blanket, but he found himself wounding his own fingers through hers. He glanced at her face at any sign of objection and discomfort. “Is this okay?”

“Hmm.” She tightened her clasp on his hand and fell back to her deep slumber a moment after. He wished to have this privilege repeated when she regains her clarity, but he knew they’d be a fumbling mess of embarrassed individuals. It’s okay to stay like this.

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

They were granted two weeks of vacation after the Karakura event, the remaining of which Hitsugaya spent with Momo and Baba. With two people keeping her in close observation throughout her full recovery, Momo had to temporarily stop writing research drafts. She was on bed rest in the next two days with Hitsugaya beside her. The following day, she was granted permission by Baba to walk around the compound, and on the next day, Hitsugaya and her slipped out to the meadow, still brimming with daffodils but some parts have wilted to signal the start of winter.

“We should buy a cake for Baba. Do you think there’s a watermelon-flavored one?” Momo busied her fingers, making crown out of the flowers. They never got around to talk about her denied confirmation to Soul yet.

“Your saturation point must be too high. We have been devouring that fruit since your bed rest.” But he didn’t want to be the person to bring it up first. “Let’s stick with vanilla and caramel. I’ll find one in the town central tomorrow. Can’t believe it’s gonna be another the start of another semester again.”

“Shirou?”

“Hmm?”

Her fingers stopped working on the flower crown, but she did not raise her eyes to him. “I won’t apologize for the Soul offer. I don’t want it at the moment.”

That hurt him in more ways than one. “Okay.”

“What?” She whipped her head back at him, wondering why he wasn’t angry.

Well, he didn’t have any right to be angry, after all. It wasn’t her plan. He wasn’t on her plan, and no matter how much he wanted her to accept the membership and stay closer to him, it still stood that he won’t be part of her plan. He has no right to take that choice away from her because….he was just a friend. “Just promise me you won’t overwork yourself.”

He was thankful that she smiled, having been relieved of the burden to articulate the why’s behind her decision. Frankly, he also didn’t want to hear them directly from her mouth.

“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll try!”

“For all that it’s worth, I hope he compensates you enough. Or put your name as his co-author.”

“Huh?”

Questioning eyes prodded more explanation from him. “Compensation. You know, salary that professors give to their RAs? Funding usually covers those fees. It’s also standard academe ethic to acknowledge them in their papers or have them as their co-authors.”

Momo’s face was a blank slate.

That can’t be right. Aizen did those, didn’t he? Hitsugaya opened his mouth again to pry the specifics of their contract, but Momo put on her jovial self, her defense mechanism. He decided not to push her, given that she just recovered.

“This would look good on you.” She nimbly placed the flower crown on his head, her smile breaking into laughter at the shock and embarrassment on his face.

“Get this off Momo before someone sees us!”

“Oh come on, just five minutes please.”

He relented, only to prolong her laughter in his presence. “I can’t say no to you.”

She scooted closer to him and arranged the flowers on his head, touching the tendrils of his silver hair. In a non-Momo fashion, she scooped up his cheeks in her hands. “You look like a cute dumpling!”

Warmth flooded his cheeks. “You’re too close Momo,” he tried to say through his scrunched mouth. He took hold of her wrists, trying to pry her hands away from his face, and it was a situation stupidly similar to that night they held hands. “I like you.”

He just blurted it out like that, her wrists in his hands, her daffodil flower crown on his head, and her smile still on her face. It wasn’t a declaration based on impulse, it was a domino effect of all the little things, all the little feelings, and all the little encounters. One by one, they have filled up his entirety like how a small daffodil can fill up a meadow. At that very moment, he understood what Rangiku meant.

“I like you too, Shirou.” It was an empty echo borne out of a friendship reflex. She knew that he knew they didn’t hold the same weight as his, but it was enough for now.

He pulled her in for a hug in the middle of that yellow meadow, a witness to their growth and the last happy memory they would have together.

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

He wouldn’t say Momo avoided him for that semester, but her appearance suddenly became scarce. Up until the middle of the semester, she still went to their secret room and profusely apologized to the three Rs for denying the membership offer. She made it up to them, bringing bento boxes, buying new sets of tea and coffee. Hitsugaya noticed she didn’t mention their conversation and hug again, and he considered they were already past it. Then, she just stopped coming.

Irked and superbly irritated, he tried going to their side of the building. Almost conveniently, Aizen ran into him and asked what he wanted from his classes. Not wanting to stir up the pot, Hitsugaya made an excuse about getting lost and returned to the core building side. Something is fishy. If I cannot see her in the academy, there’s one place to go to.

He sneaked out one weekend to the compound to know how she was. To his surprise, the area was largely unkempt and most windows were closed. It was highly unusual because Baba will never slack out on her chores. He heard chronic coughing behind the door, a loud boom, and a string of things crashing one after another.

“Baba!” He found her lying on the floor, blood dripping from her mouth, her hands scratched with broken shards of glass.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his small figure tried to lift her up on his back. It was a miracle that he was able to reach the hospital just in time before she crashed. He wasn’t family, but the doctors needed consent for an immediate surgery. He gave the go-signal. He couldn’t wait for Momo.

She appeared at midnight, well past the time Baba had her surgery. Pale-faced and shivering from fear, she turned to Hitsugaya, willing him to tell her what happened, but he wasn’t looking at her.

A doctor appeared at his side, saving him from a lengthy conversation he didn’t have the energy to make.

“Your grandmother had chronic coughing in the past few weeks, it seemed, and she developed pneumonia. The infection scarred her lungs and caved them in, and that made her cough up blood. We had to take some portion of it out in surgery. She’s in the ICU and recovering, but you need to wait for a while because she is still susceptible to infections.”

Momo mouthed her thank you before dropping against the wall beside Hitsugaya.

“Where were you, Momo?”

“I was working with Dr. Aizen in some of his experiments. The workload was too much I had to sleep in school. I didn’t come home for two weeks. Only two weeks.”

“In those two weeks you left her alone, sick, and bedridden with no one to care for her.” Hitsugaya can’t stop the spite in his voice. “If I didn’t come to your house, you would not have found her alive.”

“I needed this. Baba understood me when I told her I’d be gone.”

“Baba always understands because she wants the best for you! She’ll never deny you that. Why are you so enamored with that professor that you can’t see through everyone else?”

“You’re overstepping a line here.”

“Why are you trying so hard to please him to the point that you’d risk Baba’s life for his work?”

“His work is my work too.”

“Exactly, Momo. You’re just a piece of his work. You’re a pawn that he liked to play around. He never compensated you nor credited you. I’ve read all of his articles and not one mentioned your name so don’t tell me that you’re busy working for your dreams when you’re wasting your time with him and killing off people you love.”

A resounding slap echoed in the hospital hallway. Tears were flowing from Momo’s eyes, and it pained him that he was the cause.

“Dr. Aizen is a respectable man, and I will not allow you to slander him further. You are just a peasant, an orphan we took from the street out of pity, and now you want to act like you have our best interests at heart when you entered the academy but in actuality, it was for your own selfish desire. You want to lecture me about hard work? I may always be his assistant, but you, with all your Soul perks and hierarchy, will never be on the same level as him. You’ll come far and achieve much more, but at the end of the day, you’ll always be a peasant. So get out of my sight and never come back until you become like him.”

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

The next day, the supervisors and senior faculty represented by Byakuya and Unohana entered Aizen’s class. Trailing behind them in close distance was Urahara Kisuke, a renowned ecologist in Karakura who went on a sabbatical leave ten years ago.

“What an A-team. What do you need, madame and sirs?” Aizen cheerfully asked.

“Aizen Sousuke and Hinamori Momo, please follow us to the academy tribunal. You are wanted for plagiarism, fraud, and embezzlement.”

NEXT CHAPTER | 7 OF 12 | JUDGMENT NEEDED, NOT JUDGMENT DESERVED

[shijiujun]

thirst follow au for chuyao? (i dunno if you still take prompt requests for chuyao but i just discovered the prompt list you posted and if you do still take prompts i'd love read your version for chuyao of this!!)

new celebrity lu yao + ceo of the company lu yao is signed under qiao chusheng

---

The first thing that Lu Yao does once he’s alone these days is open his Weibo app and scroll to a particular account to look for updates. It doesn’t matter if he’s just started break after his filming sequence, or when he gets home after a day of long activities, before he does anything, Lu Yao is on his phone and checking through @/乔楚生mmc.

“Yao Yao, are you checking through Qiao-zong’s Weibo again?” his manager sighs as she enters the waiting room that has been allocated to Lu Yao for the duration of this period drama shoot.

“... Jie,” Lu Yao grins suddenly, showing her his phone, “Look at him at the ELLE Fashion event, he’s not wearing an inside shirt! It’s just a blazer over, I saw his fans yelling about this earlier but I didn’t have time to check, he just-”

Man Man-jie, his manager, tries not to be exasperated with him, but it has honestly been two months since Lu Yao discovered Qiao Chusheng, the CEO of Qing Long Ying Shi, the largest entertainment and media company in the country, after he visited one of Lu Yao’s shoots. 

Not for Lu Yao of course, but for the world-renowned director that Lu Yao and every other crew and cast member in this production is working with - suffice to say, Lu Yao laid eyes on their company’s CEO for the first time since he signed on a year ago, and he hasn’t been able to keep away from him since. 

It makes him wonder why Qiao Chusheng did not become a star himself, but Man Man said that the man has always had a knack for business development, and the company has only grown stronger after Boss Bai, the man who founded it and who is also Qiao Chusheng’s adoptive father, relinquished the position to him.

“How did you not know Qiao Chusheng is the CEO of this company?! Your paychecks are getting signed by him!”

“Aiya.... Jie, it’s not like I come across him at all... And I thought our CEO was some old man...”

Lu Yao immediately followed Qiao-zong on all his social media accounts because the man is certified exceptional in looks and body. He won’t admit it, but the best thing he likes about Qiao Chusheng aside from his arms, his muscles, his chiseled jaw, those sharp eyes, that hot body, is definitely the man’s smile.

It’s too embarrassing to say though, so Lu Yao stalks him online instead, on his private account that no one knows about. And because it’s a private and almost empty account, Lu Yao dares to leave emoji responses and some comments from time to time.

Today, Lu Yao replied Qiao Chusheng’s post with five thumbs-ups and five fire emojis. On second thought, he adds:

“哥哥帅爆了! 哥哥看我一下~”*

Man Man looks over his shoulder to glance at the comment and rolls her eyes so hard that she almost pulls something in her neck. 

“You know, one of these days, if anyone finds out, you’re dead,” she shakes her head. “When that time comes, you’re on your own. Don’t expect me to clean up on your behalf. Also, Qiao-zong is only a year older than you are, and you’re calling him gege?”

“Hey!” Lu Yao exclaims, indignant, “I have to present myself as one of his young girl fans right? If anyone ever finds out about my account, i can at least roll my eyes and ask if I would ever sound this disgusting, and then people will think twice.”

“Okay, if not that, then could you please change your Weibo name? You’re embarrassing me!”

Lu Yao frowns, confused. He thinks @/三土葱油饼 is a great handle for a social media account.

The best thing is, Qiao-zong has been oddly responsive to social media post comments recently, and he banters hilariously with fans when he has the time. Lu Yao hasn’t gotten that privilege yet, but Qiao-zong seems to be liking a lot of his fans’ posts as well, at least for those who post in the first hour of his new post, and those get likes.

Recently, it has also been Lu Yao’s personal mission to leave a comment and get a like by his Qiao-zong.

“Yao Yao, you’re so stupid, you know that? Not every single fangirl has the opportunity that you do. You literally have an excuse to go see him, you actually have access to him, his office floor? Company events? What game are you playing, stalking him on Weibo?”

Lu Yao tunes her out a little. It’s pretty fun to him, to be able to openly appreciate all these hot and amazing photos of Qiao-zong. Here, he can stare to his heart’s content, and he doesn’t have to hold back when he makes his comments. If he met Qiao Chusheng in person...

Well, of course he wants that too, but would he be more disappointed if Qiao Chusheng barely looks at him, or ignores him? Lu Yao isn’t a small artiste by any measure, and he did win the newcomer award two years ago, but there are so many experienced and legendary colleagues in his company too. 

It is, after all, the country’s media and entertainment industry behemoth, and Lu Yao doesn’t have a complex - he knows what he’s worth right now, and it ain’t a whole damn lot.

When he comes out of the shower two hours later at home, he sees a notification on Weibo, and it says that @/乔楚生mmc has liked his comment! 

His day made, Lu Yao flops back onto his bed and conks out for the next 24 hours.

===

Lu Yao can only thank his lucky stars because someone up there must really be looking out for him. If not, how can anyone explain Qiao Chusheng turning up at his shoot so frequently the week after?

Before this, Lu Yao had literally never seen the man even once aside from that very first meeting that began this whole thirst journey for him, and this week, Qiao-zong has visited every single day.

Of course, it’s not like he’s here for Lu Yao. According to some of his cast mates, Qiao Chusheng’s younger sister Bai Youning wrote the script for the last stage of their filming before the production wraps up, and asked her brother to stay on set to watch every scene being filmed.

The scriptwriter is usually on set for the parts she writes, but this particular segment of filming happened to clash with her honeymoon period with her new husband, but did that stop her from being involved? Not at all, and so busy Qiao Chusheng has to sit his ass down, note down what’s happening, and report back to his adopted sister at the end of each day.

Sadly, this segment will only take five days or less to complete, which means Lu Yao won’t be able to stare at Qiao-zong for much longer.

When will he shine brightly enough to catch Qiao-zong’s attention?

At the thought, Lu Yao slaps his own cheeks.

He only thinks of Qiao Chusheng as eye candy. He’s after a visual feast whenever he logs onto Weibo to catch the man’s updates. Qiao Chusheng is a pillar of strength for him mentally.

Lu Yao has no other untoward fantasy or goals when it comes to Qiao Chusheng.

None at all.

===

Somehow, Lu Yao ends up all drunk and boneless in Qiao-zong’s laps at the end of the week. As they expected, filming wrapped up officially earlier in the evening after Lu Yao filmed his very last scene, and since the CEO was present, there was no reason not to treat everyone on the production to a good meal.

Man Man temporarily left ten minutes ago to take on a call for another possible role for Lu Yao, and the room was cleared when Qiao Chusheng offered to book three huge karaoke rooms upstairs for the crew and cast to continue their party at after their dinner.

Lu Yao has had a bit too much to drink, and Man Man isn’t around to direct him elsewhere, so when the room has emptied, he is still seated, staring at his empty glass of wine. 

Suddenly, he thinks of something, and immediately pats at his pockets for his phone. 

“... Lu-xiansheng,” a voice sounds, “You’re not going to join them upstairs?”

“Mmm,” Lu Yao nods, trying to focus on his phone screen. “Going home.”

A nice-sounding chuckle echoes through the room then, “Can you get home like this?”

“I’m going on Weibo. Man-jie will send me home,” Lu Yao responds, almost sulking a little as he tries to find his favourite Weibo account.

There’s a bit of silence after that, and before Lu Yao can even scroll through today’s updates, a hand closes over the screen.

“You’re drunk, Lu Yao,” the same person says again. “You really shouldn’t be on Weibo. What if you post something by accident?”

Lu Yao pauses, and then he shakes his head, “I’m not posting anything.”

He turns and shows his ‘friend’ his phone screen, “See? It’s a private account, and... and... and I’m just... going to check on my favourite account.”

“Even then,” the man says again, exceedingly gentle and patient, “You should only look at Weibo when you’re sober.”

“No!” Lu Yao protests. “I have to check. I check this account everyday. See? See?”

There’s a long, long moment of silence as Lu Yao scrolls his way down the account, detailing which are his favourite photos. The man lets him go on, and because he’s cold, Lu Yao inches even closer to him.

The last thing he remembers is his new friend taking his phone from him.

===

It’s painfully bright when he wakes up, the light triggering a headache even before he opens his eyes. When he does, however, Lu Yao has to take a long, long moment to figure out just where the fuck he is. 

He’s trying to massage the headache away with his fingers, seated up in bed but having zero energy to get out of it just yet, so when Qiao Chusheng walks through the door with a smile, Lu Yao just stares.

“You’re awake. Great, I got you some fried buns for breakfast, you okay with that? Man Man didn’t say you were on any sort of diet,” the man says casually, as if they are friends.

Lu Yao looks down at himself, and nearly jolts when he realizes he’s in nothing else but a bathrobe.

Before he can panic, Qiao Chusheng adds, “I thought you looked a little uncomfortable sleeping in your jeans and shirt yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao rasps, trying to wrap his head around why Qiao Chusheng is here, why they’re in a hotel room, and why the fuck the man is even speaking to him in the first place-

He must have inconvenienced the man last night while he was drunk, and instead of throwing him to Man Man, Qiao Chusheng decided to take care of him instead. Maybe Qiao Chusheng could have left him on the streets or something, but he is after all an artist under his company, and if anything strange happened because Lu Yao was drunk, it would be bad for the reputation and image of the company if word got out.

Yes, that’s the only explanation for this.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Qiao-zong,” Lu Yao says, inching his way out of bed. 

“No trouble at all,” Qiao Chusheng replies. “Come and sit, have some breakfast before you go. I called Man Man, she should be here in a bit to pick you up.”

With that said, it isn’t good for Lu Yao to reject him and just run off no matter how much he wants to right now. He sits down opposite the man at the table, and then picks up the buns.

After he’s literally swallowed three whole buns, Qiao Chusheng comments idly, “I thought it was random when you chose your Weibo account handle, but it seems that you really like cong you bings?”

“Mnn,” Lu Yao nods, wolfing the buns down because he’s hungry as hell, and so he doesn’t’ really register the first part of the man’s sentence, not until he’s on the last bite of his bun.

And then he chokes.

“How did you-?!”

At that, Qiao Chusheng raises an eyebrow, “You showed me your phone yesterday, and introduced to me your favourite account.”

Lu Yao blanches, because he knows which account that is, and then Qiao Chusheng continues, amused, “You were telling me how nice his smile looks. How pretty his eyes are. How strong his arms probably are hidden under that suit. And that you guessed right, he actually does have six-pack-”

“Please stop,” Lu Yao croaks, mortified. “I...”

The man takes pity on him and stops as requested. Lu Yao is frozen in his seat, like a deer caught in headlights, wondering what he should say next.

Qiao Chusheng nods, “Would you like to have lunch with me later?”

“Are you firing me?”

“It’s just lunch,” he answers. “I’m technically your boss, so I understand if you’re uncomfortable with the idea but... we could do lunch, and see how it goes from there.”

And then Qiao Chusheng looks away a little, “And.. I may have been visiting the set not to supervise the interpretation of Youning’s script.”

Once again, it takes him a few solid seconds to connect the dots, and when it does, Lu Yao flushes completely red.

“... we could do lunch,” Lu Yao agrees finally. “But I have to go home and change first.”

When he looks up again, it’s that smile he sees.

===

Weeks later, Chusheng makes Lu Yao repeat every single message he’s left on his posts, all the embarrassing ones, refusing to move if he doesn’t. Lu Yao’s hands balls into fists in the sheets, and says no.

He left a lot of messages! How is he supposed to remember every single one of them?!

Chusheng makes a a convincing argument though, towering over him and not giving into Lu Yao’s requests to fuck him properly until Lu Yao says them. It ends with Lu Yao trying to concentrate enough to speak, word after word.

He’s going to unfollow his boyfriend on Weibo after this!

---

Notes:

1. Qiao Chusheng’s Weibo account name is @/乔楚生mmc = Qiao Chusheng MMC, and this is taken directly from Zhang Yunlong’s own Weibo handle, which is 张云龙mmc. MMC, as I recently found out from Hanyi, stands for mao mao chong = caterpillar/worm? HAHAHAHA

2. Lu Yao’s handle is @/三土葱油饼 = San Tu Cong You BIng, which is a combination of the name San Tu and his favourite fried buns HAHAHA that’s how QCS was inspired to buy fried buns for Lu Yao the morning after

3. The comment that Lu Yao left in Chinese above is: “哥哥帅爆了! 哥哥看我一下~” = Gege you’re handsome af, take a look at me please! Something like that, he was definitely kind of joking when he posted that, but you can imagine Lu Yao being a little troublemaker by posting those comments and once QCS realized it was him, it was payback time? Of course, QCS likes to hear his baobei Lu Yao say anything <3

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Completely Enamoured

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x reader

Request: hi!! can I please request a Charlie x reader where he gets jealous when another team's seeker starts cozying up to the reader. Charlie tries to get himself in between her and the guy at all costs - saying that you are his best friend afterall and you, oblivious, agrees with him. Charlie's final trick is involving the twins, and he instructs them to sit on either of you and the guy during lunch until he leaves. Charlie confesses afterwards, after much teasing from the twins 😁

A/N: Thank you Anon!! I l o v e Charlie Weasley and I hope I did your request justice (sorry I deviated a little)!! Also, I really do want to do a part two to this, where they tell his family about them (maybe as they graduate), let me know if you’d like that!! Edit: Part Two Here!

Wordcount: 1.6k

Requests are still open!

…

Charlie laughed at a joke she had made, admiring the way she smiled proudly, hair blowing around her face in the wind as it grew stronger. He tried to ignore it, to remind himself that they were just friends, but every time she looked at him, or said his name, his heart went into overdrive and he thought he would die if he didn’t kiss her. But he knew that she wouldn’t feel the same, and he didn’t want to sacrifice their friendship over feelings that he was sure he could put away, eventually, even if he hadn’t been able to in the seven years they had known each other.

Bill had known Charlie’s secret – he said it was obvious, that he was near enough tripping over his own feet to be close to her, always sitting a little too close or laughing a little too long. He had tried to convince Charlie to tell y/n how he felt, he said he was sure that she felt the same way too, but Charlie wasn’t sure that could be true. Alas, Bill had left Hogwarts with the pair still not together, with Charlie still pining after her painfully, unable to help anymore.

Which was why, when the Hufflepuff seeker sat next to her when they were studying in the library together, trying to flirt with her after his house’s spectacular win in the Quidditch match, he knew he couldn’t let it happen, even if he knew it was wrong he couldn’t control the jealousy that told him to interfere, to protect y/n. And so, he turned to the trouble-makers that were his twins for help.

“Listen, I just don’t think he has good intentions and I don’t want her to get hurt.” Charlie explained to the twins as their young faces looked back at him with scepticism written all over their faces.

“Yeah, he has the intention of stealing your girl.” George smirked, and Fred laughed loudly at the look on Charlie’s face. He stuttered, trying to deter his younger brothers from this subject, but they were as persistent as Bill had been.

“Don’t worry Charlie, Bill told us everything.” Fred spoke up. “You and y/n would be cute together, we’ll help.”

“Plus, when have we ever turned down an opportunity for mayhem?” George grinned. Charlie sighed in relief, patting them both on the shoulder in thanks as he began to lay out the plan to them.

…

y/n was walking through the corridors with John, the Hufflepuff seeker who had turned his attentions on to her a few days prior. They were having a polite conversation between the two of them, interesting enough, but nowhere near as engaging and entertaining as the conversations she always had with Charlie, she thought as they walked towards the greenhouses.

While she was looking away across the grounds he reached his hand out, intending to grab hers in it, when a foul smell filled the air, causing him to cough and for y/n to turn around. She spotted the two redheads running away and laughed, cursing them loudly. She started her journey to the greenhouses again, noticing that John seemed a little put-out.

“Aw come on, we were just the victims of a prank.” She laughed, glad that they were out of the vicinity of the dungbomb now. John’s smile, however, had still not returned.

“I just think it’s childish.” He said, and she rolled her eyes.

“They are children, they’re twelve.” She chastised, and he shrugged, not arguing any further but clearly not agreeing. After a few minutes of silence, he struck up another conversation, the same polite tone as before.

Charlie watched from behind, unable to help the smile on his face as he noticed that y/n made sure to leave a little more distance between the two than there was before, and how both of their hands stayed firmly at their sides.

…

The weather had broken into a nice spell, for what the students knew would only be a few days, and y/n and John were sat next to the lake, enjoying the sunshine as she had a book out in front of her which she seemed to be talking about animatedly, and John seemed to be listening along with a very limited interest.

Charlie was watching, jealousy simmering inside of him. He pushed down the waves as they came, pretending to be writing something on the parchment in front of him, until he heard her laugh carry over to him. The melodic sound of it carried through the air, and for a second he couldn’t help but have his spirits lifted, until he realised why she was laughing and who had caused it.

Unable to take it anymore, he stuffed his parchment and quill back into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he made his way across the grass, to where they were sat and she was still giggling to herself quietly.

“Hey, Charlie!” She beamed up at him, his heart faltering for a second at her dazzling smile.

“Hagrid has asked for our help with some of the creatures.” He lied on the spot, hoping that Hagrid would pick up on the cues and not tell her that he hadn’t, in fact, asked for any help. “Care to join?”

“Of course!” Within a second she had hopped up to join him, taking the hand that he offered to pull her up. “Bye John.” She waved, barely giving him another glance as they walked together, glad to be back in Charlie’s company. “You’ll never believe it, Charlie, I was reading Fantastic Beasts and telling John about Nifflers, he asked if they were dangerous.” She laughed loudly again, and Charlie couldn’t help but join her at the idea of an unfriendly Niffler. It lifted his heart when he thought that she had been spending her time with him still talking about the creatures that they both loved so much.

…

John had cornered her once again, asking to go and study together in the library, which she had reluctantly accepted, not seeing the harm if they would be sat there in silence. He didn’t seem to have the same idea, however, and kept starting conversations, pulling her away from the essay she was trying to finish.

“So I was in training the other day, and I managed to find the snitch in twenty minutes.” He started again, and she sighed inwardly. He spoke about Quidditch almost as much as Charlie spoke about dragons, but at least she cared about dragons.

“Oh, that’s impressive.” She smiled kindly, dipping her quill back into her ink. “I think I watched Charlie catch one in ten minutes before.” His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond two people had sat on either side of them, wearing identical smiles on their identical faces.

“Hi y/n” The twins said in unison, and she smiled at the both of them warmly.

“How can I help you?” she asked, putting her essay away, knowing that between the three of them, she would never have it finished.

“Well, remember when we were on the platform before our first year, and you offered to help us if we were ever struggling?” George started, and she nodded, remembering how pleased Molly had been at her offer.

“The time has come. We need your help in potions, if you’re willing.” Fred chimed in. She happily agreed, asking for a copy of their textbook as she started to explain the concepts they said they were struggling with. After five minutes, John looked extremely angry, and gathered his things in his arms promptly.

“I’ll catch up with you some other time I guess.” He huffed, storming out of the library in a way that made y/n have to stifle a giggle.

They stayed in the library for another hour or so, before she shepherded the twins back to the common room. Once they had entered, she saw a head turn towards her, a welcoming expression, and saying goodbye to Fred and George headed to join him.

“Charles, why have you had Fred and George tailing me for the last fortnight?” She asked, her voice light and teasing despite her accusation. He froze, heart pounding as panic flooded him at the thought that she had caught on to what he was doing.

“You know?” he asked.

“Of course I know!” There it was again, that laugh. The one which was a drug to him, one he wanted to hear forever. “Every time John gets close to me they’re there, and I know they don’t need help in potions.”

Despite his racing mind, he couldn’t find an excuse, a lie as to why he had, indeed, asked his brothers to keep the boy away from her. And so, in his own messy way, the truth came out.

“Well, I didn’t like that guy hanging around you. I don’t think he’s good for you. Actually, I don’t think any guy is good for you, except one. I, um, I happen to think that I am good for you, or I want to be, if you want that too.” He stumbled over his words, wishing this could have gone more smoothly for him. He was surprised, then, when she leapt forwards to press her lips to his, a kiss which short-circuited his brain and made him completely lost in her.

“Who would have thought, Charlie Weasley being interested in more than just dragons.” She teased when she pulled away, earning a laugh from him and a teasing pinch on her shoulder. She fell into his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck, feeling like she was at home already. “Oh, I can’t wait until we tell Molly. Do you think she’ll cry? I think we can make her cry.”

[rawrroarart]

Dreamer of Stars

[Little Witch Academia, Diakko, Slight Astronomy/Moon&Stars, Slight Mythology]

Diana wishes to be found.

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

Well, tumblr deleted my last post of this so I guess I’m just gonna keep posting it until it stays put.

Hi everyone, this took so long to write but I’m really happy with how it turned out despite my days of agonizing pain. Please read it so that I’ll be motivated to write more because I really like this one and hope other people will too. (I really wish I was around when LWA popularity was at its peak lol but it is what it is)

Read it on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13506038/1/Dreamer-of-Stars

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734732

Inspired by: Sleeping At Last (Venus), lots of fanart (mainly tonton), Diana (who makes me cry), and my girlfriend (who taught me the stars)

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

The first time it happened, it felt natural. While it did catch her by surprise, the moment alone and euphoria that accompanied it didn’t allow any discomfort and questioning to break through. She wasn’t hesitant, nor did she think twice upon what was happening, but this moment alone was the key culprit to her restless agitation that would consume her in the many months to come.

As they gazed up at the stars, the dreamer buried deep inside her heart believed that if she were to reach out her arm, she would be able to take ahold of them, as if the stars and perhaps even the moon was for her to control. Their elevation into the atmosphere ruled over her imagination, and she knew mapping out each point of light pathed the way to the rest of the universe. It was breathtaking, and strangely felt personal, as if it was only a sight for them and them alone, and nobody for the rest of time would be able to recreate it.

The ground seemed so far away from where they stood. And with the return of the Shiny Rod into the night sky, the Big Dipper shone an even brighter light, enveloping them in its glow as if they were destined to be the bridge between space and earth.

The Shooting Star wobbled from its once stagnant position, and it was then that her fantasy of astronomy came to a halt. “Akko, be carefu-'' She didn’t get to finish her concern before the slender arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her in, and the chestnut haired girl buried her face into her shoulder.

Feeling a slight dampness of her clothes where the eyes of the other witch would be and the small sniffles against her ear, Diana only sighed, but smiled as she rested her head atop Akko’s, and her arms moved on their own to hold her back.

“Guess what?” The unnaturally soft voice muffled through her collar, and she couldn’t help but shiver from the sound. Was Akko always this capable of a gentle tone? And if so, why now?

“Hm?”

Akko removed herself from her shoulder, grinning wide through her tear-stained face as they stood so close that should she move any closer their noses would touch. Tears continued to fall from her brilliantly crimson eyes, enhancing her natural sparkle that Diana was sure another universe existed in her eyes alone. The contrast of red against the deep blue of the sky stole away her breath, and she waited for the dazzling smile to speak the words that she could not seem to find.

“We did it.”

It was three words, but Diana understood completely. Processing the events that had transpired until that very point took a little longer than expected, but who could blame them? Partaking in a battle that had nearly cost them their lives and the entire fate of the world and then winning was almost too much to believe. Perhaps where they stood was actually the afterlife? The two of them set to watch over from the heavens for the rest of eternity. Was that why everything felt surreal and dreamlike?

She could only nod in response, offering a smile in return from the relief and ecstasy that she could not describe. And they pressed their foreheads together, reveling in their victory and unmoving from each other’s hold as the Shooting Star began its careful and slow journey to return them to the ground.

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

There had always been an unspoken barrier between her and the rest of the world, and she knew it. From the moment she was born, the expectation and weight of her heritage had been thrust upon her, and her fate had already been sealed to become what everyone destined her to be. That isn’t to say she resented her birth, far from it even. She was proud of her home and ancestors and aspired to continue to follow in what they believed, even aiming to become the greatest witch to excel where they had fallen.

This ambition and privilege of birthplace forced her into solitude, not in the literal sense of physicality, but rather many came to resent her, and those that didn’t kept a respectable distance away whether they meant to or not. Over time she came to learn that this was just the way it was and grew accustomed to think nothing of it. Only her mother had ever really touched her in form of affection, holding her close and kissing her head. But that was a long time ago, and perhaps her mother was just an abnormality.

When the Shooting Star had landed safely onto the floor, Akko was immediately tackled down by a giggling group of teenage witches that congratulated her on her achievement. Diana watched as Amanda locked Akko’s head into her arm, playfully ruffling her hair as Lotte and Sucy both clung onto Akko’s body. Jasminka picked them all up off the floor in a bear hug, and Constanze held on where she could as her short legs dangled in the air.

A ping of emotion wanted her to join, but she knew the moment wasn’t for her. Akko was the hero after all, and it wasn’t right to intrude where she didn’t belong. Instead she received a dutiful “Good work!” from Professor Ursula and Professor Croix who returned from whence they came, as the three of them stood and took in the excitement that radiated from the bubbling crowd before them.

That’s just the way things were.

If only Akko hadn’t done what she did in the sky, she could have moved on with her life the same way she had before, knowing no one would dare approach where they weren’t permitted. Curiously enough, she didn’t remember if she had ever prohibited anyone from approaching her in the first place. But now a faint ghost of where Akko had hugged her lingered on her body, and if she tried to erase it, it would only grow stronger. Memories of her mother appeared one after the other, and it was almost painful to remember a time she felt wanted, not for her status or abilities, but just for who she was.

When they all had returned to Luna Nova, her closest friends immediately ran up to her, tearful and blubbering in their words of praise and admiration. She waited and listened, thanking them for their compliments as modestly as she could. It was overwhelming how high of a pedestal they put her on, and her mind wandered to a timeline where they wouldn’t hesitate to tackle her down in a hug the same way Akko’s friends had tackled Akko down. With Akko’s hug still in her thoughts, a small part of her wanted to ask them for a hug, but perhaps that was betraying a boundary that they had set for their own comfort. Instead she stood there with a soft smile on her face, glancing as they instead excitedly clutched onto each other with each applause.

It was the same for anyone else she passed. Her classmates congratulated her in awe, staring as if she weren’t a student the same as them. Her professors respectfully nodded, singing praises of her being the ‘star of Luna Nova’ and of course she would be victorious because she was a Cavendish after all.

On the other hand, Akko was somehow being scolded for being reckless, but all in good nature as they congratulated her too. Many approached her, offering handshakes and hugs in thanks one after another. Even Professor Finnelan, Akko’s least favorite person and vice versa, very briefly patted her on the shoulder for a job well done.

Why didn’t anyone pat her on the shoulder?

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

A few months had passed when it happened again. Everyone had finally settled down after the Noir Missile and class was back to the way it was before. She was on top of any class she took, as per usual, and everything was at peace as if the Noir Missile had never happened at all. This familiarity made it easy for her mind to return to the period where she had never yearned for touch, and all was as well as it should be.

“Diana!” Akko came rushing into their morning class of the day, clutching a now wrinkled piece of paper in her fist as she scanned for where Diana was sitting. It didn’t take her long as Diana always sat in the same seat anyway, but the moment she spotted her a bright smile appeared and she began her dash up the stairs.

Diana felt a slight increase of heart rate being the subject of Akko’s joy, and she watched the odd girl nearly trip over Barbara seated in her path. Offering a weak apology with uninterest, Akko ignored Barbara’s complaints as she shoved the paper into Diana’s face. Her finger pressed onto the corner of the paper where a red ink marking lay, the grade ‘B+’ written in bold.

Before she had the chance to speak, Akko instead spoke first in a rather loud voice, “You’re the best tutor ever!” and then immediately squeezed her into a hug so hard that it almost hurt. “Thank you!” And the hug was gone as quick as it came, as Akko bounced away to her own seat in high spirits yelling something about ‘seven p.m. again, okay?’ that she woozily nodded to.

Hannah and Barbara expressed the shock on their faces that she hid, and they turned around to start arguing with Akko about something she wasn’t listening to.

She just stared at her desk and the notebook she was writing on before Akko had interrupted her, unsure what language it was in as her ability to read disappeared. Her body felt like it was burning, and she knew the only way to make it stop was to be held again. But was there a way to naturally achieve that goal without forcing the other party into discomfort?

…

…Would Akko hug her again if she helped her pass another test…?

…

At seven pm she arrived with extra notes.

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

Akko was weird.

There was no other way to describe it. She thought that the hugs were just Akko’s way of showing thanks, but it seemed Akko had no regard for social cues and her personal boundaries at all anymore. It wasn’t like Akko was too dumb to notice she was so close, but rather she just didn’t care in the first place. Perhaps Akko had come from an environment where it was normal to be close to everyone you know, then she really had no room to judge. But to her it was weird, and she couldn’t help but feel tense and awkward as Akko sat next to her.

It was dinner time and she was reading a book as normal days go, occasionally tuning in to Hannah and Barbara’s conversation as they sat across from her. Lazily feeding herself a small parfait offered for dessert, she felt relaxed in the ideal situation of her friend’s voices, a good book, and a sweet dessert. Perhaps this was her most favorite time of the day, and she zoned out into the story as her spoon hung down against her lips.

She was aware when Hannah and Barbara had abruptly stopped talking, but her tranquil mood kept her from switching into alert, and she continued reading without regard to the world outside her mind. Once the foreign lunch tray was placed directly next to her did she suddenly jump in surprise at the sound and tray in her field of vision, and her head turned to Akko simply digging into her dinner as if she belonged.

Her, Hannah, and Barbara just stared at their intruder who paid them no mind.

“Um. What are you doing here?” Hannah had spoken up first.

Akko blinked at her, confused, as she chewed her food. “What do you mean?”

Hannah and Barbara immediately twitched their eyebrows in annoyance at Akko playing dumb. “Go away.”

“Eh? You don’t own this table! I can sit wherever I want!”

“Well we don’t want you here! Go away!”

Akko completely ignored their orders, turning to Diana with a cute smile, “Whatcha reading?���

Diana looked up towards the table that Akko normally sat at with her friends in hope to receive some answers. Lotte caught her glance and pointed at Sucy, who in turn shrugged yet failed to hide a mysterious potion resting atop their table which contents burned through Akko’s seat like acid. Perhaps Akko was tired of the experiments for the day and decided to leave, and she turned back to Akko waiting for an answer and sighed as she removed the spoon from her mouth to speak, “It’s a collection of Roman mythology.”

“What?! No way! I thought you’d be reading something boring!” Piquing her interest, Akko leaned closer to read too, pressing her body against Diana’s arm as she ate.

“Akko. Go. Away.” Hannah and Barbara threatened, fire in their eyes as she continued to ignore them.

“Ehhh? But I’m hanging out with Diana…”

They all turned to Diana for approval, but she herself wasn’t sure what should be approved. Her body was tense, and she was in a mental battle against herself of whether she liked Akko touching her or not. As much as she desired the physical contact, would it not be better to ‘rip off the band-aid’ now than get used to the feeling and later mourn the loss again?

In preparation to shoo Akko away, she made the mistake of looking into the bright hopeful pools of crimson that threw her memories back to their intimacy in space, and she found her mouth unknowingly saying the words, “It’s fine.”

Thankfully, Hannah and Barbara respected her odd decision, shrugging amongst themselves as they eventually returned to their conversation from before.

In a panic for the rest of dinner, she and Akko read some more stories together without Akko ever moving from her arm. This was the longest anyone has ever touched her in years, and she held back a disappointed cry when the end of dinner was announced.

At least since then, very occasionally Akko would return to read whatever she was reading, and sometimes she hoped for days Sucy would play a prank that drove Akko to sit with her.

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

“…and thus, due to the sun’s gravitational pull and its close proximity to Venus and Mercury, both of these planets show an instability in obtaining a moon of their own.”

Finished with her long speech of the moons of the solar system without so much of a sweat, she didn’t move from where she stood, knowing what to expect as her eyes stayed shut with her arms elegantly crossed behind her back. Her back was perfectly straight, and altogether she radiated the book definition of poise, intelligence, and grace. She listened to the applause that erupted in the rest of her classroom, aware that she had done well in her assignment after days of preparation. When she received her unsurprising grade from Professor Ursula, Diana respectfully curtseyed and headed back towards her seat where her proud friends awaited her.

They spoke in admiration of her words, going over what parts resonated with them the most. She could always count on the two for their feedback, and she gratefully thanked them for the analysis as she squeezed between the rows and took her seat. It was another day, another grade. It wasn’t so hard to continue her reputation in these times, and she was glad that nothing ever seemed to change. This was her life, and she had to get used to it.

Patiently waiting for Professor Ursula to look over a list of names to call the next person up to the board to speak, her mind wandered to a universe where her friends would take her by the hands and playfully tell her what went wrong with her speech, but they would all laugh at the statements that held no weight. And she would be able to hold their hands throughout the rest of class, smiling as the three of them listened to the essays to come.

“Psspsspsspsspss!”

Her ears twitched at the sound behind her that seemed to be calling for her attention as if she were a stray cat, wary of strangers and wishing to go on her way in the normal cat life she lived. As cats do to unfamiliar noises and surroundings, she turned around to the source with curiosity, seeing Akko awkwardly leaned halfway against the desk with an outstretched hand and her palm raised as if in motion to ‘stop.’

Diana raised an eyebrow at the hand, uncomfortable with the eager look Akko gave her as if expecting her to reciprocate something she didn’t know.

Akko gave a defeated sigh, motioning with her other hand to offer her wrist.

Diana complied with the command, interested in what Akko had planned as she carefully placed her wrist on Akko’s fingers. Akko quickly morphed her hand to take the same ‘stop’ command that she had and held it up for her as Akko slapped the now open palm with a grin.

“High five! You did good!”

Diana winced at the stinging pain in her hand that didn’t actually hurt but caught her by surprise and confused her. She was aware of the concept of ‘high-five’s’ and what events typically lead to such actions, but it wasn’t like she had ever done it herself. Blankly staring at her still raised hand, she snapped out of the trance while the lingering sense of touch stayed against her fingertips as Akko unexpectedly jumped at the sound of her name being called.

“Ah! Sorry, give me a second!” Akko rummaged through her bag, filing through a noisy mess of crumpled papers in agony. “It was here somewhere…!”

It was humorous how different they were. Akko was everything but the definition of poise, intelligence, and grace. Yet that’s what made her so endearing, and so… herself.

Diana smiled as Akko pulled out a small stack of papers stapled together at the corners, watching as Akko scurried out of her seat and apologized again for the delay at the center stage of the classroom.

Akko took a deep breath as she held her paper to her chest, almost as if it were an essay dear to her heart and unmeant to be heard by the masses of ears that awaited. But she gave a signature confident grin, not bothering to read from her assignment as she boldly proclaimed the words, “Today I’m going to tell you about the goddess of the Moon, Diana!”

And Diana knew Akko was truly talking about the actual mythological story of the Roman goddess Diana and then later the origin and stories of the names of the moons themselves, but the way Akko had started her speech and looked directly at her with her big crimson eyes full of wonder and excitement made her want to believe that perhaps the speech was dedicated specifically for her alone.

And she wondered when Akko had stolen her book on Roman mythology.

When Akko returned to her seat, an itch on her mind wanted to turn around and return the favor of a high-five for a job well done. But when she had moved an inch to offer, Akko was already being high fived by her peers and laughing at all the errors in her presentation in a loud friendly bubble that she would never be a part of.

Diana instead gently praised her with a few words, and that was the end of it.

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

Unbeknownst to many people, Diana was a night owl.

She was aware of the normal sleeping hours she was supposed to partake in, but something about the nighttime was so alluring and drew her in. It was always quiet, and no one expected anything of her (other than to sleep), and she could enjoy her time alone by reading a book, drinking tea, analyzing the stars, or even studying to get ahead where she didn’t need to. It was easy for her to fall into an educational hole where new discoveries excited her and kept her awake, and she was free to be herself without any obligations.

This was not one of those nights.

A pillow rested atop her face, acting as a makeshift sleeping mask to block out the deep blue of the moon gently lighting up her vast dorm room. The night sky never bothered her before, but she was desperate to fall asleep and took out her frustrations on as many reasons as she could come up with. She could hear the same soft snores from her roommates that she had been listening to for hours, and she almost wanted to be annoyed at them for sleeping while she couldn’t. But that was silly, and she knew the fault was in herself.

Or perhaps it was Akko’s fault?

Silly, again. It was wrong to blame others for reasons they did not control. She groaned, moving the pillow to her chest to hold it, wishing that her beloved teddy bear was there with her to confide in.

Diana was homesick. But not in the traditional sense where she wished to sleep in her room at her manor. (Though, her bear was there, so perhaps that was what she wanted as well). Instead what she missed was being a child. Overjoyed by the thought of Shiny Chariot and ranting to her mother who was alive to listen and encourage her to chase her dreams. And her bear, who was her best friend, that, too, quietly listened to what she had to say and followed her wherever she needed to go. She missed her mother patting her head and tucking her hair behind her ears. She missed her mother gently kissing her forehead and carrying her despite the weak and sickly body she dealt with. She missed her mother embracing her and telling her that she loved her. She missed being loved.

To return to a place where she felt loved was her home. And as it turned out, for many years now, she did not have a home.

And it was Akko that continuously reminded her of this.

She desperately wished to be held again, and her mind and body ached from the selfish desire. It wasn’t like she was trying to hold anyone else, so why should they act where she could not? Her mind bounced back to Akko who did not have a care in the world, and she was sure that if she just opened her arms in invitation, Akko would not hesitate to jump in. But was it wrong to take advantage of Akko’s kindness? To use her for selfish gain?

Shaking her head at the despicable thoughts of using another person, Diana restlessly got up off her bed and put on a pair of slippers, shuffling her feet towards the exit of her room without so much of a squeak. What she needed was a glass of water to clear her mind, and hopefully by then she would be able to fall asleep.

Careful not to wake her roommates, Diana slipped out of the room into the hallways illuminated by the moon’s light beaming through the large windows of the school. She adored large windows that stood high overhead and made the plan to bask in the moonlight after she obtained her water.

Filling up a small glass in the kitchen, Diana silently made her way back to her room, taking careful sips as her eyes studied the night sky through the windows. Lately the stars had meant much more to her than they had before, and she found herself studying more astronomy than she expected. Astronomy specifically wasn’t in their curriculum, but it wasn’t difficult to be able to mix it in during the astrology class that she already dominated in. Nearing the turn towards her dorm, Diana stopped walking to stare up at the sky wondering if she should invest in a high-quality telescope.

No one could relate, but she severely missed being so close to space on a single broomstick, up high where nobody else could reach as if it were just her and Akko against the world. Only then had she ever felt so natural, like it was meant for the two of them to be one with the stars forevermore.

Gazing back down to remove herself from the fantastical dream, she held back the emotion that attempted to thrash its way out of her practiced hold, feeling the pain in her heart that she pressured to be still and disappear. Though, it wasn’t working as well as it had before with her desires only growing stronger with each passing day.

Caught up in her will to be calm, it was then that she had come to realize she hadn’t been alone. Outside in the balcony not too far in front of her was the familiar brown of the chestnut-haired witch who seemed to constantly be running through her mind however long she was awake. Akko stared up into space alongside her, a serious and thoughtful gaze on her face that Diana was sure that nobody else had seen before.

She could pretend she had never spotted her, but Diana felt drawn from the curiosity of what Akko could be thinking this late at night. Her aspirations to always learn more, even when it involved other people, moved her forward, and she found herself opening the doors that led out, wincing at the brisk cold of the air that stung against her once warm skin.

Akko had yet to notice her arrival, and from their closer proximity, Diana could capture the troubled and melancholy eyes that wavered as they tracked the stars. It wasn’t until a tear perfectly fell down Akko’s pale cheek that her worries kicked into overdrive, and she announced her presence with a stern “Akko.”

“D-Diana?!” Akko screamed from the surprise, jumping about a foot in the air as she furiously rubbed away her tears. Her awkward instinctual smile took over, and she rapidly sputtered out the words “I didn’t steal anything, I swear!” She emptied her pockets as if to prove her point, smiling meekly in hopes that Diana would believe her and let her off the hook.

Diana rolled her eyes as she walked closer, “If you had stolen something, then it would have been a dessert. And if it was a dessert, then you would have eaten it by now.”

Akko gulped at her expert deduction abilities, holding her hands up as if she were a criminal caught red handed. She was surprised to find that instead of a scolding, Diana instead handed her the glass of water and motioned her to drink.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked, in a much softer tone than she had been using.

Akko took a moment to think, drinking sips of the water before frowning into the reflection of her and the moon above. She hadn’t expected the voice of concern from Diana, and she awkwardly shuffled her feet as her mind picked through the words in her head.

Diana gave her time to answer, walking to the edge of the balcony and looking back up. The stars were somehow brighter now that she was outside, and she wasn’t sure why she had never thought of it before to be outside when she needed to think.

“I’m just…” Akko started, anxiously rubbing her fingers against the smooth glass of the cup. She furrowed her eyebrows as she continued to stare at herself in the water, a thousand thoughts passing through her head and Diana unable to imagine any of them. “…lonely.”

“Lonely?” Diana tilted her head in confusion, hoping for clarification of what that meant. Akko was surrounded by many doting friends and professors, so she wasn’t sure in what way Akko could be lonely. It reminded her of the reason for her own restless night, and she resisted the urge to selfishly bring out what she wanted in response. It was Akko that needed comfort right now, not her.

Akko was visibly uncomfortable by the questioning, and Diana knew it was time to drop the subject. Though, Akko did apparently have the ability to talk just as she was about to, and Akko continued the conversation with, “Sometimes I feel like I’m not enough.”

“It’s not your fault. You’re only gaining your magic back after all-“

“It’s not that.” Akko was unwillingly crying again, doing her best to hold back her tears without a sound.

They fell, one after another, and Diana stayed silent. Her fingers twitched to move, wishing to test her theory and hold out her arms for an embrace, but that was extremely inappropriate in their situation, and she was still. Correctly understanding emotions was a subject she continued to have trouble in. There was no formula or correct answer that would solve everything, and she thought too hard on her actions and ended up missing the chances that would have been ‘correct’.

“I’m sorry.” Akko mumbled, and Diana wasn’t exactly sure why she was apologizing.

“It’s fine.”

But Akko was trembling, biting her tongue to avoid an explosion. She seemed to want to say something, to cry out or lash out, but Akko was seemingly trained in the art of masks as well, and she held it in.

Diana’s mind commanded herself to do something about it, but she resorted to the safest bet she could with her words and said, “You’re doing fine.”

But somehow, those were the wrong choice of words as a river of tears gushed out of Akko’s eyes in a steady stream, and Akko’s frustration seemed directed at her and only her. Rapid thoughts buzzed through her mind to try to make sense of what was happening, but all she knew was that she was the cause of this outburst and had to fix it.

Panicking as time passed, Diana’s anxiety soared high, and she only just wanted to hold her and be held as this was all too much to handle so late at night. She wanted to lay down now and be done with it. No more tears or miscommunication or confusion or fear of resentment.

Grabbing Akko’s hand, Diana marched back into the school towards her own dorm. Before opening the door, she shushed Akko to be quiet and snuck the both of them in, grateful that the snores of her teammates were the same as before, and brought them around her dividing bookcase towards her bed. She took the cup of water from Akko’s hand and placed it on her bedside table, motioning Akko to sit down despite the very confused look she was receiving.

Honestly, she didn’t know what she was doing. She just wanted to sleep and for Akko to stop being sad, and it was already too late to turn back anyway as Akko laid down despite not being told to. There was nothing wrong in comforting a friend in need, and she, too, needed comforting that this was the most viable answer.

Akko rested on her side, eyes closed and her tears slowing down to a stop. She almost seemed asleep, and Diana laid at the other side of the bed facing her, curiously watching her but closing her eyes as well. They laid an arm’s length away on Diana’s large bed, quietly resting and listening to each other’s soft breaths.

This was enough. She could imagine what it would be like to be held asleep from this point on and deal with it. And tomorrow would come as all days go, and that’s all there would be to it. Part of her imagined Akko as a cuddly person, and she inconsiderately wished it to come to reality. But that just wasn’t her life, and she knew it wouldn’t happen.

If only Akko agreed to the same terms and conditions.

Her eyes opened feeling the weight against her chest, Akko snuggled in close and clung onto her nightgown with tears still stained on her swollen eyes. But Akko was already fast asleep, calmly breathing and in the most peace Diana had ever seen her in. Perhaps Akko was just like this with everyone, and Diana let her be, closing her eyes and finding sleep to arrive much easier than it had before.

For the first time, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

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

“Say cheese!”

“Cheese.”

“I don’t get it!”

“Get what?”

“How are you not smiling while saying cheese? Say something funny then. Like ‘booty’.”

“No.”

Akko was glaring at her with her hands on her hips. They were in an open courtyard during a small gap between classes, and Akko had dragged her along into some scheme after noticing she ‘never smiled.’ For some reason, Akko started laughing at the word ‘booty’ that she had said herself. And during her fits of laughter, Akko stepped closer and reached out towards the corners of Diana’s mouth, weirdly massaging in circles, “You needa exercise those smile muscles!”

Diana raised an eyebrow as Akko messed with her face, internally enjoying the touch despite Akko pulling at her cheeks. “Smole mosclos?” She attempted, not realizing her mistake as Akko squished her face when she had tried to speak.

“Pff!” Akko held back her laugh.

Seeing the puffed-up cheeks on Akko’s face, Diana couldn’t help but crack a smile back.

And together they laughed, maybe not for the same reasons or in the same volume, but it felt as if it were them alone in the world and time had stopped to accommodate. Akko had thrown her arms around her neck, and they stood close as they continued giggling.

Akko’s laugh was a sound that she wished to be able to save for as long as she would live, and Diana hoped to continue being a part of Akko’s happiness. She knew she wasn’t as funny or relatable as any of their other classmates, but Akko kept coming back to her anyway to share the immense amount of joy that she held within her.

As Akko continued laughing, Diana took notice of the flush on Akko’s face, similar in color to the crimson of her eyes. Her heart raced at the sight, and she took advantage of the only person left in the world who did not hesitate to touch her and held her close. It was the first time she had done so on her own accord, and she wasn’t sure what had prompted her to do it, but both were frozen in surprise.

Before she could let go and apologize, Akko held her back, burying herself into the wavy locks of her blonde hair with a smile on her face.

And she continued smiling too.

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

Perhaps Akko was spoiling her with all the affection she was receiving.

As time moved on, Akko seemingly grew more accustomed to making physical contact whenever she saw her. It wasn’t abnormal to be randomly tackled during the day into a hug no matter how far Akko spotted her anymore, and a small part of her expected it and waited just for that moment to come. Sometimes she’d even pretend to need to walk by one of Akko’s classrooms during passing period so that Akko could easily find her, and she could see the soft resting face instantly turn ecstatic once they made eye contact.

While it wasn’t every day that they hung out, and sometimes she was forced to agonize as day after day passed, many of their usual activities kept her spirits high enough until the next opportunity. They read books together, studied together, stargazed in the dead of night, braided and played with each other’s hair, high-fived (she was getting good at it!), fist…bumped? (this was a new one), hugged, laughed, cuddled, slept.

She was so used to these forms of intimacy now that her typical life plans made room for them, as if it was normal and just the way things were and always have been. It involved expecting Akko to fulfill the hole in her heart that craved to be touched.

And that’s precisely why it needed to stop.

Diana lay in her bed, staring blankly at the night sky with a long, exasperated sigh. It was another restless night, but one filled with thoughts she knew she needed to sort out for the near future. Her arm was outstretched against the rather empty mattress, not moved from its position for the last hour or so.

There would come the day that Akko could no longer keep up with her demands. The day Akko would leave her or realize her friends needed as much attention as she did. And then what? She could not get so used to the fleeting moments of affection like this, as it would only become her downfall once it disappeared for good.

Diana had tried to imagine hugging or holding hands with her own friends that same way she did with Akko, but unlike long before, it instead made her uncomfortable and she didn’t want it. She no longer cared to be touched by anyone that wasn’t Akko, and that was exactly the problem. Akko had unknowingly spoiled her!

Like a true villain, she had been using Akko for selfish gain when she knew it was wrong. And Akko, from the kindness of her heart, never thought once to wonder about her motives, smiling brightly as she always did.

How evil for her to take advantage of the sweet and innocent.

Yet she could not seem to stop. In fact, her egocentric mind only wanted more, and no matter what effort she made to refuse it, she could not stop. The selfish piece of her head was angered that Akko would dare leave her, yet she knew for a fact that Akko was never hers to keep.

Earning a migraine from the mental battle between good versus evil, Diana held onto her head with anguish, wishing to cry out in pain at how much she despised herself that night. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and there was a ringing in her ear that sounded louder with each second.

She could feel the small lump slither around in her blanket, but paid it no mind with the suffering that was too much to bear. When the small twitchy snout of a mouse poked out from under the covers, the beady red eyes followed and paused with anticipation and concern. On normal(?) days, Diana would make room on the bed when the mouse had visited her in the night, but this night she ignored it and partially hoped it would go away and leave her alone.

Transforming back into a human, Akko laid next to her in worry, carefully reaching towards the part of Diana’s forehead that pained her the most. And Diana let her, moving her own hands aside for Akko to gently caress the spot in hopes to soothe the troubles away.

Akko really was too kind to her, and Diana furrowed her eyebrows at how weak she was to temptation. Her eyes were still shut, and she could feel her breathing haphazardly increase in random intervals as her mind spiked in alarm and self-hatred.

But before the panic attack could reach any peak, Akko stretched upward, planting her lips between the furrowed eyebrows that promptly lost all tension they held in response.

Diana’s eyes were wide open then, but she could not see anything as Akko quickly moved up to hold her head against her chest. Listening to the heartbeat against her ear, Diana relaxed, and the pain was no more. She buried her face into the scent of the shirt she had grown familiar with, and could feel herself falling into sleep from the beat that matched her own.

Just one more night wouldn’t hurt.

But Akko needed to know the truth. And it was time to let her go.

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

“Akko, I need to speak with you.”

“Okay, sure!”

She briskly made her way to the exit of the cafeteria, waiting at its doorway as Akko waved to her group of friends and bounced after her. The radiating, carefree smile never left Akko’s face, and with each step closer that she walked, Diana could feel the heavy burden against her heart. She nearly called off the meeting with an escaping ‘never mind,’ but successfully fought the screaming urge as she led Akko into the quietness of the hallway.

Out of coincidence, she had chosen a spot where the entirety of the full moon was visible from the window. Its light shining down exactly where they stood to face each other, as if it were a spotlight and they were the actors in a play.

Akko watched her with interest, staying silent as if to give her time to observe the stars, and she followed her gaze up. The difference between them was that while Akko’s smile grew bigger at the sight of the moon, Diana instead frowned as if the moon’s light was there to curse them, mocking them in its brilliance and edging her to speak.

Diana Cavendish. Serious. Composed. Intelligent. Quick-witted with a sharp tongue. All feared to cross in her path. She could turn down those who opposed her without an ounce of hesitance in the ice of her voice. With careful calculation, any conversation would turn in her favor.

Diana Cavendish. Cold. Distant. Reserved. Life was easy when her emotions were stagnant. She never had to think twice of whether her actions came from the head or from the heart. Logic and reasoning would always be her answer.

Then why now couldn’t she speak?

She could feel herself trembling. As they locked eyes, no words wished to exit her thoughts, and they just stood there. Why did Akko have to smile at her like that? Akko, who treated her with kindness and affection without regard for her title. Akko, whose smile would light up her day and enter her dreams for a brighter morning. Akko, who could easily get her to laugh even when there was nothing to laugh at. Akko, who wasn’t afraid to hold her, and be with her, and care for her. Akko, who reminded her of the stars and their glittering intensity throughout the night, and how she yearned to be in space again where she was at her happiest.

Akko, who would come to despise her should she learn the truth.

She had to let her go. She had to let her go. She had to let her go.

“Diana?”

And Diana felt a burn against her eyes that she hadn’t known its time of origin. She gingerly swiped against her cheek, staring in awe at the foreign tear that had escaped without her knowledge. But it didn’t end there. One after another the tears fell, and, as much as she tried, she could not control it. When had she started crying?

Akko was no longer smiling. Instead, Akko firmly took her hand and dragged her along through the maze of the corridors in a direction she did not know.

She couldn’t remember the last time she cried to this extent. This was ridiculous. To be nearly at the age of adulthood and be childishly crying over her own faults and inadequacies. And in front of Akko, of all people! Akko surely thought less of her after this mess, and her picture of perfection and elegance was now ruined. But did it matter? Akko was going to dislike her anyway, so what was the point?

Before she knew it, Akko had brought them outside of the school where her wet paths of tears now stung against the cold. But she was grateful for it, as her eyes dried from the air and no more tears fell. She stared at the floor as they walked, unsure where Akko was leading her, but uncaring as the outcome would only be the same.

They entered a field she was unfamiliar with, but her eyes stayed glued to the ground as if her shoes were somehow the most interesting thing in the world. She really was like a kid then, and she had to laugh at how silly it felt.

When the first flower appeared in her vision, she couldn’t help but marvel in its luminosity. It was a bright blue in color, and quite literally glowed from its magical roots that reminded her of the moonlight reflecting off the surface of water. Then another one appeared. And another. And another. Until she could no longer see her shoes as the flowers covered them with their abundance.

Eventually Akko had stopped, patiently waiting for her to look up. And when she did, she could only describe what she saw as otherworldly. As if Akko had somehow removed them from Earth and landed on a planet that was coated in every inch of its surface with the peculiar flowers. They stood in the middle of the field and were bathed in the blue hues of the mystical plants that the only other color in the night was the deep red of Akko’s eyes.

As much as she refused to admit it, she was a dreamer. And perhaps where they stood was instead the sky where they guided the world from above in their ethereal realm of flowers.

Akko sat her down in the field, plucking one of the flowers off the ground, and lightly blowing against its exposed head of seeds that easily broke way from the force to release the glowing bits of fluff into the nighttime breeze. They watched them dance and twirl in the air and fly away under the guidance of nature that took them high up until they were visible no more.

If where they stood was the sky, then perhaps these were the stars.

It felt like everything she wanted. To be in space where she believed she could control the stars with Akko by her side. This was a dream.

Spending their time taking turns blowing the magical dandelions, they sat in silence, never once uttering a single word. Akko waited for her to gather her thoughts, just enjoying the presence and having fun with the abundance of flowers that hardly dented in number despite however many they had picked.

When Diana released another cloud into the wind, she could only feel remorse. Like the fluffs that were now free from her actions, Akko must also be able to spread her wings and fly, and she knew what must be done. Loss was something she was all too familiar with. To give up something, whether people or dreams, was just the way her life had always been. Selfishly desiring never achieved anything, and she waited for the seeds to disappear in the air to declare, “I have a confession to make.”

And Akko stiffened in her seat, sitting straight with a red flush across her face as if she were ready. “You do?” She was listening rather intently, Diana could tell, so there was no backing down now.

Diana took a deep breath, trembling again as the thoughts of Akko’s hatred spilled back into her mind. But she knew it had to be done, and Akko was waiting. And she looked her fiercely in the eyes to put an end to the thoughts of escape.

“I have been using you.”

Akko froze, staring blankly from the words that she hadn’t expected to hear at all. Her confusion turned into disappointment and she actually looked offended.

This was it. Diana could not immediately speak with Akko looking at her that way, and she felt all her emotions bubble out at once like a weakened dam that had finally burst.

“Using… me?”

“Yes.” Her mind was melting down, and she wasn’t even sure what came out of her mouth anymore. “Ever since the Noir Missile, I found myself desperately lacking in human affection. Selfishly, I placed the burden on you to fulfill what I desired and continued to use you for my own satisfaction.” Akko would hate her. Akko would hate her. Akko would hate her. “Truthfully, I never planned for it to get this far, but now it seems I entirely depend on only you for this matter and cannot seem to stop.”

Akko was still staring at her, at least instead quizzically as opposed to frustration.

Diana ignored the buzzing in her mind, continuing her explanation in hope that Akko would understand. “As you may tell, this is an issue for when the day arrives that we must part. Unfortunately, there is an evil in my mind that wishes to keep you for myself until the end of time, and I often dream of being with you in space where the stars and the moon are within our grasps and nobody else can reach us. But with as big as a heart as yours, I’m aware that this is an exceedingly selfish request, and so I wish to release you from everything you have given me. Though, I do thank you for providing what may be the happiest days of my life, and I apologize for forcing you for so long to comply with my hopeless needs.” And she was finished and able to breathe.

Akko stared now as if she were an alien, or a fish out of water who had yet to understand anything about the world they lived in.

They sat there in a momentary silence, and Diana felt at ease now that it was over.

“Well that’s stupid.”

She glared at the unexpected insult to her speech. Akko didn’t understand her at all! And the audacity to name her concerns ‘stupid.’

Akko crossed her arms with an exasperated sigh, “Is there a record for ‘Worst Confessions Ever in the History of Ever?’ Because this one would definitely be up there in the top ten -no five.”

She couldn’t understand what Akko was saying. Was her confession not sound in its arguments and points to be understood? Did she not explicitly state the problem and provide a valid answer to fix it?

“Diana?” And Akko was smiling at her, her white teeth shining brightly in contrast to the blue of their setting.

She didn’t know how Akko could smile like that, but again her heart beat faster in response, and when Akko took her hands she knew that Akko hadn’t understood a single word she said. Yet she did not recoil at the touch, even when Akko scooted closer to be near. Did she have to explain again? Moving her mouth to speak, Akko instead used the ability to speak before her.

“It’s really okay! I won’t disappear.”

How odd, she hadn’t said anything about Akko disappearing. But she shut down any prospect of what Akko really meant, as she had done for the past few months. “Did you not hear what I said? I’m using you.”

“Diana.” Akko again ignored what she said with the smile ever growing bigger. “I also have a confession to make.”

And Akko pushed her down into the bed of flowers, still holding onto her hands as she laid on top. The dandelions exploded into the air upon impact, sprinkling the sky with the masses of glowing fluff that hovered where they stopped before beginning their slow descent down. Akko was crying through her smile, almost laughing even as if all of her worries were forever gone.

Diana was fascinated. With the makeshift stars that decorated Akko’s head, and large moon directly above to cast its light down onto them, it was like they were back on the Shooting Star high above the clouds where only they existed. How Akko was able to recreate her idolized scenario, she didn’t know, but she could feel the tears escaping her eyes again as for the first time her dream had become a reality.

And Akko delicately whispered the words, “I want to be with you.”

She was sure Akko could feel the rapid beat of her heart, and the red of their faces matched in color. Trying to find a way to reject what Akko meant, she didn’t get the chance to when Akko continued.

“You don’t have to deny it. Don’t be afraid that I’ll leave you, okay?” Akko pressed their foreheads together, snuggling close as proof she meant what she said.

Deny what? That she feared to be alone, left to fend for herself for years without affection? That once she was given the chance of happiness, she twisted it to avoid attachment in fear that history would repeat, and she would find herself back in solitary? That everything she ever came to love in her life had to be surrendered, no matter how much she desired to keep it?

That, perhaps, maybe, she had potentially fallen in love, and feared that for that reason alone she would lose everything, and with how broken she was already, she’d never be able to pick herself back up again?

That’s silly.

And yet she could not stop crying. In a battle between happiness and fear, she was unsure if Akko would truly keep her word. How long would Akko stay with her? What if Akko grew tired of tending to her needs? Did Akko even realize how much she loved her?

…Did Akko love her back?

As if Akko could read her mind, she leaned forward, gently pressing their lips together in a moment that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

And somehow, that was the answer to her problems, and Diana melted at the touch as a wave of bliss washed away her anxieties.

She almost let out a gasp when the kiss was over as quick as it came, glaring at the crimson-eyed witch for breaking off her peace and elation so suddenly.

"You know, Diana? You're – and you know this means a lot coming from me – a bit of an idiot."

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

You’re late. She thought, glaring hard at the rodent apologetically clasping its hands together in plea. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Diana moved aside on the bed to make room, still pouting when said rodent transformed back to normal.

Akko sheepishly smiled at the harsh look, opening her arms and wiggling her fingers in invitation.

Taking the bait, Diana buried herself into Akko’s chest, relaxing as Akko ran her fingers through her hair and all was forgiven.

She never thought that this would become her normal life. How almost a year ago she believed that she had everything sorted out until the day she would eventually die, and she would be proud if only to have served her purpose in the world. How she didn’t have time to dawdle in these so called ‘emotions,’ as they did nothing but burden her goals and ambitions, forcing her to dream and desire the unrealistic that taunted her from the distance that she could never reach.

But as she listened to the steady drum against her ear, she had to wonder if maybe at least one of her dreams really did come true. That, after all these years, she deserved to be selfish and take what she wanted. That she deserved to be happy as herself, as Akko didn’t expect anything of her other than to return the love she held in her heart.

Attempting to bury her face deeper into the scent of the shirt, she listened with joy as Akko giggled at the ticklish action, and peeked up to meet the big, round eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever they made contact. No matter however many times they looked at each other, she could feel the fluttering inside her chest that wished to stare forever. How the crimson depths of Akko’s eyes told many stories and held a universe of their own, and how she dearly wished to live in the cosmos of that existence for eternity.

Oh, how quick red was to shoot up in her most favorite of colors.

Diana, as she was beginning to admit, was a dreamer. She was an astronomer and Akko was the constellation she had spent her life researching to find, only to realize Akko was instead the universe she was helpless in. Or perhaps it had been her who was a billion tiny pieces, finally pulled together into focus as if astronomy in reverse.

And it was Akko who had discovered her.

And when they pressed their foreheads together once more, she was no longer afraid to admit that she had found her home.

[drunk-onsunlight]

Day #8 of Promptmas

Chapter 8:   How lucky that you dropped in (So nice and warm)

Summary:

Morgan knows Peter likes MJ and she is 67% sure MJ likes Peter too so she is trying to help them to get together for real and plans a snowball fight that ends up in them laughing a lot and holding hands

Read on Ao3

Notes:

This chapter was the hardest to write. I wanted Morgan to show her own little world and what she experienced with the Starks and the Parkers and it ended up hell hard to make! But at the end it was very satisfying to me Also, while I'm psting this I'm writing the last chapter of this fanfic and I have so many mixed emotions. Happy because I managed to end a project and sad because I loved the journey with Peter and MJ so much. Hope you all have a great Christmas week and stay safe!

Concept: Outsider POV & Snowball fight & Board games Shenanigans

Dialogue: “Do not throw that snowball” & “It’s hand holding season”

December 23rd

Morgan’s POV

I know Peter likes MJ, it’s obvious. Everybody can see it, except the two of them. And I think MJ likes Peter, well, I’m not entirely sure but 67% at least. I have known Michelle since she moved in with Peter and at first she was a little quiet and she didn’t speak too much but that changed when we took the time to speak to each other. I saw everything that Peter said MJ is, beautiful inside out, intelligent, passionate and many other awesome things. And Peter is an amazing person too, that’s why he is my big brother.

A few weeks ago I heard my dad talking with my mom about how much Peter had changed. He was dating Gwen and everyone loved her, even MJ, but things went wrong on a fight and she died. After that, Peter had a bad time, May was really worried about him so my dad convinced him to start a new life, rent and apartment, find a roommate, keep working with the Avengers projects and get that master degree he always dreamed about. Then MJ needed a roommate and their new life started.

Peter was happy now, he spoke about MJ non-stop and another bit about Ned, Betty and May. He developed new suits and web shooters and his college was going great. Mom said that MJ seemed like a nice girl and that was good that Pete was better after what happened with Gwen.

Suddenly my dad told my mom he thought Peter and MJ were dating because it was impossible that they weren’t with all the things Peter told him about. For him, lots of things sounded like dates and a normal couple life, so maybe I confirmed that their plans seemed like dates and the way they looked at each other was more than platonic.

I never said they were dating but my dad decided to make a last minute holiday party and invite them as a couple, then, they could confirm or deny if they were dating or no. For my surprise, they say yes. Now I know it’s a fake relationship but their reason to do it was actually really weak. And that’s why they need to see they like each other! So here we are, all of us sleeping next to a beautiful bonfire.

Pete and MJ are cuddling under a blanket. Pete is hugging MJ from the back, his hand is covering MJ’s, their legs are intertwined and MJ’s curls are all over Pete’s face. I’m dying to see what happens when they wake up and find themselves in each other arms. This is gonna be fun.

----

Update: yes! It was very funny! Peter woke up first and tried to take MJ’s curls out of his face so she woke up and when they saw their legs and how close they were, they both jumped like they were touching fire. I couldn’t hold the laugh

“You guys need to work on those details if you want to play like a normal couple”

“Good morning to you too Morgan” Peter said and MJ just made some unintelligible words

“Morning, Pete. Coffee MJ?” I know she is not a full person until her morning coffee. Peter told me that

“Ujum”

“I will take that as a yes. Help me, Pete?”

“Let’s go” we rise from the sand and moved inside the house to find May on the kitchen with my mom

“Hi, mom! Hey, May!” I hugged my mom and then then May while Peter greeted them

“Do we have coffee? MJ needs some caffeine or she will look like the Grinch” Peter was quietly hugging May

“We do. Peter, bring her some coffee and go find something warm. According to the news we will have snow in a few hours and we don’t want anyone getting sick” May told him and he moved away from her, served the hot coffee on a mug and went out again

“May, I’m really happy for Peter. Michelle is a really nice girl and they look really happy together. It’s really good to see Peter so bubbly and himself again” My mom told May and I could see she was speaking sincerely, we were all really worried about him after Gwen died. While they speak I search for something to eat when they talk caught my attention again

“I have known MJ since forever. She is my best friend’s niece. They even were our neighbors for a few years. Michelle has always been a lovely girl but her mom is not so nice I’m afraid. She was always judging Michelle for her life choices. That she was reading too much, that she wasn’t being girly enough, that she never had a boyfriend, so MJ kind of closed herself to everyone, except Ned and Peter” Wow, with May saying all of that I realized how lucky I am that my mom and dad always encourage me to be myself and not some made up version of what people want me to be. They know the weight of being a young Stark, heir of a massive company and part of a group of super heroes. People has expectations, some of them unrealistic

“I’m going to see if they want to play some board games with me. You can join if you want” I wanted to spend more time with Peter’s friends. I know how important they are for him

“Ok little one. Have fun. Maybe we will join later” I went out of the kitchen leaving my mom and May talking about lunch. I haven’t notice the hour but we definitely miss breakfast.

“Let’s play some board games!!!” I went out of the house and screamed my bright idea to Peter and MJ that were looking at the sea. They were snowflakes falling already

“No monopoly. That thing gets savage every time we play it” Peter had played with the Starks and let’s say maybe some houses were thrown at some point in the game. My dad is very competitive

“What about Uno? I like that one” MJ rose from the sand and cleaned her clothes before starting to walk with Peter to the house

“I love it! Set the table on the living room while I invite Ned and Betty”

“I’ll go to the kitchen. We missed breakfast. You need food, fruit, all of that, peanut!” Peter was an amazing brother, seriously.

I went to Ned and Betty’s room, knocked a few times and invite them to play. The door opened immediately

“Of course we would like to play, Morgan! We’ll be there in a minute” Betty looked amazing on a lovely red and white dress. She was all Christmas outfit. I took the opportunity and changed last night clothes before getting back to the living room with Peter, MJ, Ned and Betty.

“You can go take a quick shower and change while we set everything to play” Ned looked hype to be playing board games. MJ was right, they were huge nerds

“Thanks! I have sand all over my hair and it’s getting cold” MJ started to walk but I could tell she wasn’t sure about where to go

“Ned, can you show Peter your bathroom? I will show MJ the bathroom on the other room so we can play” I took MJ’s hand and lead her to the second floor where all the rooms were. Ned and Peter were following us. We parted ways but Ned had to take Peter’s bag so he could change his clothes.

Fifteen minutes later we were all together around the coffee table on the ground, ready to play. They all were speaking about how cold the day was but how beautiful everything looked. I could hear my mom with May in the kitchen laughing while my dad and Uncle Happy tried to cook something for everyone. A little secret it’s that actually Uncle Happy is very good at cooking and my dad learned a few things from him.

“Ok. Let’s start!” Ned was mixing the cards

“How many cards for each one?” Betty took the cards from Ned’s hands and started counting them waiting for an answer

“Seven” Peter and MJ spoke at the same time and the three of us just looked at them. I think Ned and Betty really believed the fake relationship thing, or maybe they are playing along too. Betty counted the cards and started to place them face down on the table in front of everyone

“Rules? Real ones or normal ones?” I had to ask them. People love to play by their own rules and totally ignore the real ones

“Wait, what?” Peter looked really confused

“Yeah. This game actually has point system. The first one to get 500 points wins” I explained to them and I could see everyone trying to make sense of the system points

“What about the Uno scream thing? Do you have to shout too the number of points you get? This doesn’t make any sense” MJ was examining her cards next to Peter

“You know what? Let’s forget about the points and play like everybody does” The points are actually quite weird and that’s why everybody ignores them

“Deal” The four of them answered at the same time. They are so weird

“Peanut? Would you like to go first?”

“Yeap. No problem” I chose my first card to be a yellow 8. Next to me was Betty and she went for a Red 8, it was Ned’s turn and he dropped a Red 4. It was Peter’s turn, he quickly picked a Red 9, put it on the pile and looked at MJ. She analyzed her cards and then the little pile, after a few seconds she decided to drop a Blue 9. It was quite an eventless round and it was like that for a maybe fifteen minutes. After that, things started to change. It was Peter’s turn and he dropped a +4 card.

“Are you kidding me, Peter?” MJ placed her two cards face down on the table and looked at Peter with amusement

“Oooohhh. This is finally getting spicy” Ned told Betty and me. I wanted to see what could happen

“I’m not letting you win, Em. Sorry” Peter looked everything but sorry

“I can see that! You are a terrible boyfriend” MJ looked indignant taking the 4 cards

“Now it’s getting personal” Betty spoke softly to us

“I’m a terrible boyfriend?! We are competing against each other, no couple rules apply”

“Peter that’s low” Ned was trying not to laugh at their exchange

“That’s no low, that’s clever” Peter was trying to defend himself and it was my turn to play so I helped MJ a little. I dropped a Reverse card and it was MJ’s turn again. She looked at me and I gave her a wink, I may have seen a few of her cards while she did her little tantrum at Peter. She took her card and before placing it on the pile turned to look at Peter. A Skip card was now at the top of the cards and Peter’s face showed his indignation. He had two cards on his hand, he was ready to scream Uno and he couldn’t

“Morgan!” Peter looked at me with even more indignation

“What did I do?”

“You traitor! You knew MJ had that card! You two are plotting against me! What is this? My little sister and my girlfriend ruining my game!” He was such a drama queen

“You just said it, loser. No couple rules in this game” We couldn’t help it, we started laughing at them. The round kept going with some change in colors and Betty giving me a +2 card. We kept playing and MJ took revenge on Peter several times and they made a little drama over who was the bad one and kept playing until Betty won.

“I hate this game” Peter dropped his two cards on the table for everyone to see them

“You sore loser!” MJ dropped her two cards and congratulated Betty

“You are a terrible player” Peter was actually very competitive and hated to lose

“Then let’s solve this tie” I had an amazing idea when I looked at the outside

“What tie? Betty won” Ned wasn’t seeing what I saw. They both have two cards, they played against each other, not with all of us and they were tie

“Yes. But they have two cards each. To know who’s a better player then I DECLARE A SNOWBALL FIGHT!” I started running to the door that leads us to the outside. Grab some snow and waited for the four of them to go out to kick Peter on the head with the ball I had in my hands

“Oh. It’s on, little one! You are going down! But first go find some gloves or you are going to freeze” He was extremely protective and totally right. So I ran back to the house, my gloves were on my room so I had to run the three stairs up, open the drawer on the nightstand and ran back to the beach.

When I walked outside the scene I found was adorable to say the least. Ned and Betty were throwing snowballs at each other while laughing and a little further Peter was on his back on the floor laughing while MJ prepared a huge snowball on her hands. She got ready to throw the ball but Peter got up off the ground

“Do not throw that snowball” Peter wanted to sound serious but his face was glowing with happiness and fondness

“No? What you gonna do to stop it? Loser” MJ’s voice demanded a challenge and Peter loves a challenge.

“Try me, Cat” New nickname I guess. But that changed MJ’s attitude, not a bad change, her back straightened and her feet started to move like she was floating in the snow. She balanced her snowball on both hands and threw it at Peter. He did a back flip and landed perfectly on his legs, a very Spider-Man move. If he was still trying to hide he was Spidey from MJ, he was doing a terrible job, but MJ didn’t look surprised either. I will have to talk to Peter later about that.

“Snowball fight!!!” My dad screamed and started running to make some snowballs and he threw one at me so I joined the fight with all of them. Soon, all of us were throwing snowballs at each other and laughing. After what seamed two seconds and not half an hour, more snow started to fall. My gloves were wet from the snow and everyone looked frozen but happy. I really love this season, it brings so much happiness to lots of people it’s amazing.

“Ok everyone!!! Let’s go inside! We need to eat something and change clothes” my dad shouted and everyone started to drop the snowballs they had in their hands, except MJ. She threw her snowball at Peter who had his back to her. He turned around and made a small snowball at threw it back at MJ but she moved away and he missed his shot. MJ was laughing so hard she was bent with her hands on her knees, suddenly she dropped to the ground and kept laughing

“Peter? Why is she laughing so much?” I had to ask. I was kinda worried. I have never seen MJ laugh so much

“She is mocking me, but don’t know why specifically” Peter was looking at her fondly

“Your hair is a mess!” MJ was calmer but some giggles escaped her mouth. She was right, Peter’s hair was all curls. He looked like he just got out of the shower and tried (and failed) to make his hair presentable

“Come on MJ. You are delusional, you need some food and warm clothes” He offered his hand to help MJ get up. When she was back on her feet they let go of their hands “You seriously need some warm clothes and something to drink, your hands are freezing”

“Well, the good thing is that it’s hand holding season and my brother can be a good boyfriend and hold your hand to help you warm up. Right Ned?” Ned turned around and I beckoned him to say yes

“After that weird exchange I’m worried about MJ’s health so please Peter, help my dear best friend to not lose her mind because she is freezing” God, I love Ned with all my heart

A little reluctant Peter offered his hand to MJ and with some visible doubt she took it. They seriously need to act more normal around each other when interacting as a couple if they wanted everyone to believe it. Actually, everyone thinks they are together but they needed to make the effort to keep everyone believing that.

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

Thanks to @spiderman-homecomeme for Promptmas

[mistersshelby]

the woman assassin | part eight

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT

here it is my friends!!! the final part of the woman assassin. thank you for following me on this journey and i’m sorry it took so long. i hope this lives up to all of your expectations. i can’t thank u enough!!! have fun and pls remember to send me any final thoughts you may have, i love hearing them (:

questions, comments, concerns

masterlist

Blinking takes effort as she pulls herself back into consciousness. Everything feels heavy, even breathing is a difficult task. When everything comes into focus, she sees Tommy sitting in the corner, head in his hands and looking at the floor. Clara tries to say his name, but even that is much harder than she remembers, and so only a small groan leaves her throat.

Tommy’s head shoots up and when he sees she’s awake, he calls out to the nurses who come in to check her. Clara wishes he would tell her what’s going on, why is she in the hospital, she wracked her brain for her last memory. A tiny kernel seems to come loose and her cousin’s face appears at the forefront of her mind.

The nurses leave and Clara drifts off again as Tommy squeezes her hand, “You’re gonna be just fine, love.” She must’ve imagined the endearment.

The next time she wakes, it feels much easier, before she felt like she was fighting to pull out of the ocean in the middle of a storm, but today the waters are calm and breaking the surface is almost reflexive. “Tommy.” She tries. Her voice is gravelly, her throat scratches along the syllables.

He looks up at her and smiles and she knows she must’ve been nearly dead if he’s happy to see her, “What happened?”

His smile falters and he looks away from her, “Alfie betrayed us.”

She lets the words fall over her, slowly sinking into her as her mind tries to recall all that had happened, and then she gets it in flashes. Alfie’s face, smirking at her. The cousin she had tortured before killing. His brother who had shot her.

“Two of my cousins… they got away.” She tries to sit up and grimaces, “We can’t stay here, they’ll find us--”

“I took care of them.” Tommy says, he still won’t look at her.

She carefully leans back into her pillows, “What aren’t you telling me?”

He leans over his knees and rubs his forehead, seemingly about to explain to her, when Michael stormed into the room. Clara frowns as his face crumples when he sees she’s awake and he collapses on top of her. “I thought you wouldn’t ever wake up,” He sobs and she hesitantly pats Michael on the back in an attempt to console him. “I tried to tell him,” He says vehemently, glaring at Tommy, “That you wouldn’t want him here.”

Clara narrows her eyes at Michael, “And what would make you think that? What would make you think that I would want you here?”

Michael gapes at her, “Clara… You nearly died. Because of him.”

Tommy is sitting quietly, eyes of murder on Michael. “Even if that were true, Michael, you and I aren’t exactly… friends. I mean, after everything--”

He abruptly stands, eyes colder than she’d ever seen them, “So it’s true then, you’re just a whore for Tommy Shelby, you’ll do anything he asks even if it kills you? You’re just like every other stupid girl who’s laid eyes on him.” Despite herself, her eyes watered at his cruel words.

Tommy stood threateningly and Michael shrunk away in a way that told her this wasn’t the first time Tommy had threatened him, “That’s enough.” He said lowly, “Leave.”

Michael shook his head, but left all the same, muttering to himself the whole way.

“Tommy,” Clara swallowed to compose herself, “Why does Michael think it’s your fault I got shot?”

“I knew you would tell the men I sent for you to stay outside, in fact, I counted on it.” He turned from where he stared after Michael and sat down again, “And I knew Alfie was going to betray us.” 

Clara blinked at him, “...What d’you mean?”

“I mean that I knew he was going to betray us, I came up with another plan, and didn’t tell you about it.”

Clara blinks a few times, her mind slow to process what he’s saying. Alfie had betrayed them, sure, that was to be expected. But Tommy had betrayed her? She felt dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden and brought a hand to her mouth. Tommy was there in an instant, lifting a bucket to Clara’s mouth the second the contents of her stomach spewed out. The noise the vomit made as it splattered against the bucket only made her feel more sick. The edges of her vision were graying and she heard Tommy call for a nurse, but he sounded very far away.

And then she blacked out again.

The next time Clara woke, Tommy was pacing back and forth in front of her bed. “Don’t… move so fast…” She managed to mumble and Tommy immediately stopped at the sound of her voice.

“Christ,” Tommy sighed, his shoulders drooping as you blinked up at him.

“Can I go home now?”

He shook his head, “They said maybe tomorrow, if you can stay awake for most of the day.”

“Then can you leave, please?” She tried to add as much bitterness to the sentence as possible, but she was much too weak and it just sounded pathetic.

“Clara, I’m sorry--”

“You’re not sorry, Tommy. You’re never sorry.” Her eyes watered as she spoke and she couldn’t look at him, “The worst part is I was finally starting to trust you. I thought we understood each other. Maybe Michael was right.”

Tommy stares at her for a few moments, the hard mask slipping back over his face as always. Maybe Clara had never noticed that he’d been taking it off for her. It was too late now. Tommy clears his throat, “Alright then, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She says resolutely, ignoring the way the tears continue to well in her eyes, staring at her hands in the hopes of hiding them from him.

There’s silence for another few seconds and she doesn’t look up, though he waits for her to, just wanting to see her face before he goes. But she doesn’t, and she listens to the sound of his footsteps leave the room.

***

Clara recovers fairly quickly after that and gets right back to work. When Tommy wants her to do a job, he slips an envelope under her door with instructions. When he gets notified of the job being finished, he slips another envelope under her door with cash. This is the only contact they have after everything. 

Sometimes, Clara shows up to family meetings and Polly watches the agonized way Tommy stares at her and nearly rolls her eyes.

“You could try talking to her, you know.” Polly says from behind him as he watches the door swing shut behind Clara.

“Talking to who?” Tommy says, turning back to Polly.

“You’re still going to pretend you’re not in love with her?”

Tommy sighs and sits, “It doesn’t matter if anybody loves anybody if she hates my guts, Pol, so can we move on? Need you to come with me to meet someone.”

Polly hesitantly drops it as Tommy explains to her the meeting they’ll be going to and she doesn’t bring it up again.

***

Clara doesn’t think about much anymore, there’s only killing and money. She makes enough money to move out of her shit apartment and into a house, but every time she goes to tour one, she never contacts the seller again. She doesn’t see the point of moving from one empty shell of loneliness to a bigger empty shell of loneliness, so she stays put.

And then one night, there’s a knock at her door. No one came to visit her since she got shot, so frowning, she takes the gun from under her pillow and cocks it, slowly walking to the door. There’s another knock, so she swings it open and points the gun to the person standing there.

Michael Gray. “Christ, Clara, could you drop the gun?” 

They may be her employers, but she doesn’t trust any of the Blinders anymore so she keeps her gun raised, “What d’you want?”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

She stares at him for a moment longer before lowering the gun and allowing him to come inside. “Is this a message from Tommy because I quite liked when he would just slip something under my door and leave.”

Michael shakes his head, “It’s a business proposition from me.”

Clara scoffs and places the gun, still cocked and loaded, on her coffee table which they sit across from each other at, “Michael, you have no power or standing in the Shelby empire, what could you possibly have to offer me?”

“I’m going to take everything from Tommy.” He says calmly.

Clara stares at him, waiting for the punchline, but when his face remains neutral she bursts out laughing, “You? Take everything from Tommy? Come on, Michael, I know you’re not that dense--”

“I have a plan.”

Clara sighs, “And what d’you want from me?”

“I want you to kill Tommy.”

The world seems to slow for a moment and all Clara can do is blink emptily at him. Finally, she recovers and finds her words, “And what would I get out of it?”

“For one, revenge for him betraying you. Two, I would give you 15% of everything Tommy has which would be more than enough for you to stop working here and never have to see another Shelby face again.”

Clara takes a moment to process this and then shakes her head, “I don’t understand, if Tommy dies, wouldn’t everything he has go to Lizzie and the kids?”

Michael smirks, “Tommy’s lawyers trust me. I’ve already handled rewriting his will. The kids will still get more than enough,” He says quickly, reading the look on her face, “And they’ll continue to be provided for when the company continues under my name. You’ll disappear as soon as you’ve done it, but leave enough evidence to point to you, I’ll help you get settled elsewhere and wire you money under a new name. No one will ever know I was involved and you would get a fresh start. Everyone wins.”

Revenge. No more Shelbys. A fresh start. She looks down in her lap as she ponders everything Michael’s said. “I want it in writing.” She says finally, “I want to be sure you won’t betray me when this is over.”

“Thought you might say that,” He opens a briefcase he brought and pulls out a paper, “Already had a contract drawn up by a lawyer. Read it over, let me know if you need anything changed.”

She takes it from him and carefully reads it over, not allowing herself to think it over before she signs, “When do you want it done by?”

Michael is smirking as he takes the contract back from her, “The end of next week.”

“And you’ll have a safe place for me to flee to set up by then?”

He nods and rises, “I’ll let you know the details the day before. Be packed and ready to go by then.”

She walks him to the door, “Pleasure doing business with you Michael, I hope this finally brings your ego peace.”

He rolls his eyes, “Just do your job, Clara.”

Clara closes the door instead of bidding him farewell and leans against the closed door. When she looks down, she notices that her hands are trembling. She presses them against her belly to still them, closes her eyes, and takes a deep, steadying breath.

She was going to kill Tommy Shelby in a week’s time.

***

The rain pounded against the windows late that night as Tommy sat in his study, drinking a whiskey. He couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t a novelty. The kids had gone to bed hours ago and Tommy had sent his servants away only an hour after that. So now he was alone with only his thoughts, something he tried to avoid as much as possible.

Clara’s face, devastated when he admitted his betrayal to her, the betrayal that very nearly got her killed, is all he sees when he closes his eyes. So when the doorbell rings and he opens the door and sees Clara, wet hair stuck to her face, he thinks he must truly have gone mad.

They both stand there, neither saying anything as a few moments pass. “May I come in?” Clara asks finally.

Tommy blinks at her, “It’s late.”

“Yes.” She says, both of them still stand there as another moment passes, “May I come in?” She repeats.

After yet another moment of hesitation, Tommy steps aside to let her in. He motions for her to wait at the door while he runs to get her a towel. When he returns, she murmurs her thanks and wraps it around her shoulders as he ushers her into his study.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?”

She’s looking at her hands and Tommy can’t read the expression on her face, “I’m deciding whether or not I want to go through with this.”

A chill goes down his spine, “Go through with what?” He tries to subtly open the drawer of his desk where he keeps his gun, but she notices.

“Don’t bother,” She says, still refusing to look at him, “I broke in days ago and disposed of every bullet in this house. You only have empty revolvers and machine guns now.”

He checks just in case, but she’s not bluffing, “So you’re here to kill me, eh?”

Finally, she stands, discarding the towel and pulling out her own revolver, “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with betraying me like that, did you?” Tommy doesn’t answer, but eyes the poker at the fire, the bottle of whiskey, anything he could use as a weapon. She cocks her gun and lifts it, “Don’t do anything stupid, Tommy, we both know how good a shot I am, you’ll be dead before you can reach me.”

Suddenly, he feels calm, “Go ahead then, Clara. Shoot me.” He leans back in his chair, “I built this empire and for what? Got my wife killed. My children are terrified of me. My family all think I’m a selfish prick.” He shrugs, “This was going to happen one day anyhow. I’m glad it’ll be you. The last thing I’ll ever see is the face of the woman I love.”

Clara hates the way her heart jumps, the way the tears prick at her eyes, “You don’t know how to love anyone.”

He nodded, “I thought that too, before Grace. Thought I was broken. And then after Grace, I knew I would never love anyone again.” Tommy doesn’t think Clara notices the way she keeps stepping closer to him, “And then you came along and I convinced myself it was nothing more than infatuation. But you asked me to leave the hospital that day and you broke my heart.” She’s so close now he could reach out and touch her.

“And you broke mine.” Her face betrays nothing, but her voice breaks.

She’s straddling his knees now, all threats forgotten. Her face so close to his she can count his freckles. “I guess we’re even then.” He rasps out, and against his better judgement, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to him.

Her mouth is soft on his and he can feel her body trembling against him. “No,” She whispers, pulling away slightly and then there’s a popping sound, “Now we’re even.”

Tommy feels nothing but shock, at first, and then the blinding pain in his shoulder. He grimaces as she steps away from him, “You fuckin’ shot me.” He says in awe and then curses himself for letting her get so close to him.

“Yeah, you’re lucky.” She opens the revolver and dumps the remaining bullets on the ground, “I could’ve killed you like Michael asked. I almost did.”

He presses the wound as he watches her walk around the room, gathering things to clean and stitch him shut, “Michael?” He says incredulously.

“Yes, he wants you dead,” She pours vodka on the wound, unphased by Tommy’s groaning, “Did you mean what you said before or was it just a ruse to get me to not kill you?”

He stares at her, trying to process all the words she’s saying through the pain of the bullet wound, “I love you, Clara. In a world where I thought there was nothing left for me I want nothing else but to hear you say you love me back. I have nothing if you don’t love me.”

She pauses her work on his shoulder and looks up at him, “I’m pregnant.” She says softly, “It’s yours.”

Joy floods through him at her words and Tommy closes his eyes, “You’re sure?”

Clara nods and goes back to work on the bullet, “Yes. And I love you, Tommy. Have for a long time.”

“But you still shot me.”

“Yes, well, you’re a cunt.”

And despite himself, he chuckles which quickly turns to a grimace as she yanks the bullet out of his shoulder. “So Michael hired you to kill me, eh?”

She begins stitching up the bullet hole as Tommy winces, “Yes. He wants to take the company from you--Would you hold still?--Went to your lawyers and changed your will without your knowledge. He’ll be looking for me soon.”

Tommy nods, “And what did he promise you that made you consider murdering the father of your child?”

She doesn’t seem phased by the accusation, “Enough money to disappear and never look at another Shelby again.”

“Is that what you want?”

She ties off the last stitch and ties a towel around his arm to cover the wound, “I thought it was. And then I looked at you, really looked at you for the first time in months, and I knew I couldn’t do it. I saw you tossing our baby in the air and laughing, teaching them how to ride a horse, showing them how to shoot a gun and I couldn’t…” A few tears slide down her cheeks, “I love you far more than I could ever hate you, Tommy.”

He caresses her cheek with his hand before gently pulling her to him, “I won’t keep things from you anymore, I promise. We’re a team, for real this time.”

Clara presses her lips to his, reaching up a hand to the back of his neck, “Will we get married then?”

He nods, “Yes,” Tommy smiles at the thought, “You’ll be Mrs. Shelby.”

His blue eyes shine even in the dark, “How can I be sure this isn’t a trick?” Her voice breaks and he feels his heart splinter at the mistrust.

“You can’t,” He says past the lump in his throat, “But if you don’t believe me you can reload your gun and shoot me in the head, I won’t stop you.”

She eyes him carefully for another few moments before nodding, “Okay. First we need to take care of Michael.” The doorbell rang and they sprang apart. “What do we do?”

“Listen to me carefully.”

***

When Tommy swings the door open, Michael looks like he’s seen a ghost, “Surprised to see me alive, Michael?”

“Where’s Clara?”

“Oh, are you worried about her? Come with me, cousin.” Tommy swings an arm around Michael’s shoulders and brings him to his study where Clara is tied to a chair, sobbing.

“Clara?” Michael says and then turns on Tommy, “What did you do to her?”

“Do to her? She tried to kill me, Michael! On your orders!”

“No, no no no no no,” Michael’s shaking his head, “That’s not, that’s not what happened.”

“Oh no?” Tommy walks behind Clara and holds a gun to her head and she whimpers, “Then why are you here?”

“Michael, please.” Clara begs, “Please, just tell him.”

“No, I, she told me she was going to kill you, I came here to stop her!” He lies.

Tommy tsks, “Michael, Michael, Michael,” Tommy points the gun at him, “I’m really not in the mood to be deceived as I was almost killed tonight.”

“Tommy, I swear it!” Michael says, “She told me she wanted revenge, I-- I told her not to!”

Clara sobs, “Michael, please, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

Michael stumbles back as if she’s struck him, “Wha--? How do you know it’s mine?”

“I haven’t bled for five months,” She cries, “The last time we were together was--”

“Five months ago.” Michael says blankly.

“Please tell him the truth, Michael, please.”

“Alright, alright.” Michael concedes, finally, “Tommy, you have to put the gun down, promise me you won’t shoot either of us.”

“I’ll put the gun down, but I won’t make that promise.” He places it on the desk.

“I wanted to take the company from you,” Michael confesses finally, “I have the documents in my briefcase, I’m going to take them out now.” Tommy watches him, arms crossed, as he takes out documents, “I went to your lawyers and had your will changed so that everything would fall to me. I planned on giving Clara enough money to be free of all of us, change her name, have a fresh start without any of us.” He hands over the documents to Tommy who reads them over.

“Are these the only copies?”

Michael nods, “Those are the official documents from the lawyers. Only they have the other copies. The back paper, that’s Clara’s contract. The only copy I have.”

Tommy takes his lighter from his pocket, flicks it open and lights up the corner of the pages, watching them burn for a few seconds before dropping them in the waste bin. “Good work, Clara. You were very convincing.” Tommy says, and it’s only then that Michael notices that she’s stopped crying.

Michael frowns, “Wha--? What just happened?”

Tommy unties Clara and Michael watches the way she looks at him. As if he’s the Sun. “I’m sorry, Michael.” She flexes her wrists as the rope falls away, “I am pregnant, but it’s Tommy’s. I haven’t bled for three months, not five.”

Michael’s confusion quickly turns to outrage, “You signed a contract!”

“It’s a shame Tommy burned up the only copy, eh?”

“I’ll be headed to my lawyers first thing tomorrow morning to remove you as a trustee from my will, from here on out you will have no power in the company and no job. The only reason I don’t kill you where you stand is because of Polly. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

Michael looks from Clara to Tommy and back again, “...Clara… I--”

“You heard him, Michael. Go.”

Finally, shaking his head, Michael backs out of the study and they hear the front door close behind him. Clara looses a breath, “Do you think he’ll try again?”

Tommy sighs and sits, “Michael is smart, he won’t do anything that doesn’t benefit him in some way. Killing me now would serve no purpose to him. He won’t get anything in return except being exiled from the family.”

Clara walks over to Tommy and climbs into his lap, it feels surreal to her that this is her new normal. “I’m sorry, Tommy.” She whispers.

He squeezes her, “For what, my love?”

“For shooting you.”

Tommy chuckles and presses a kiss to her cheek, “I deserved it, I’m a cunt, remember?”

She laughs and nuzzles closer to him. Clara falls asleep like that and eventually Tommy carries her up to bed, watching her carefully, as if she might disappear at any moment. This was his future wife, the future mother of his child. He wouldn’t screw this one up. He would protect her with everything he had.

He leaned over and lightly kissed her abdomen and then her forehead before climbing into bed beside her, sleeping peacefully for the first time since Grace had died.

**Epilogue**

Tommy’s smiling as he pulls sandwiches out of the picnic basket, handing one to Clara and ripping the other into tiny pieces for their son, James. “Here ya go, buddy.” He said and Clara smiled, watching the two of them.

“What?” Tommy asked when he saw her watching them.

She shrugged, “Never thought it was possible to be this happy.”

His smile widened, “Me neither.” He leaned in and kissed her, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, the metal of her wedding band cold against his skin. 

Clara still worked as an assassin, but was also Tommy’s most trusted confidant, right next to Polly. They still had to do the dirty side of the business sometimes, but neither of them faulted the other for it and they never brought it back home to James. Clara got what she always wanted, to be well respected at the top of her game as well as a family that loved her. Tommy got what he always wanted, someone who loved him unconditionally and someone to leave the business too when all was said and done.

It was true, Tommy and Clara would never live a quiet life, but they liked it that way and they were happy they never had to pretend otherwise.

tag list:

@mariamermaid @gingertaurus @tommy-scum @lil-black-heart @wildmavs @unrulyhealy @shadow-of-wonder @trash-can-beebo @alyciaswhore @godsaverosemary @parochialism @zazasblogxx @randommostlypotter @julietswildchild @sunsetsandbooks @thetrappednerd @deliciouspsycho @l0tsofpennies @lucy-xxxo @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @annabethgranger123​ @shannonmcc212​ @urbansaint​ @soulslaststand​ @lw-03xox @smcc212​

[dishearteningmediocrity]

I haven't seen anyone post this interview with Colin Clive before, and it's quite a good one. So anyway, here's an article from the Birmingham News-Age-Herald on March 4, 1934, written by Gladys Baker. The text might be kind of hard to read, so here's a transcript. (I didn't transcribe the other article about May Robson, so apologies to all you May Robson fanatics out there; let me know and I will do it):

“Gotham’s Matinee Idol: Colin Clive” By Gladys Baker, Special Correspondent to The Birmingham News-Age-Herald

New York--Today when no man is a hero either in fiction or the theater unless he has robbed a bank or murdered his grandmother it is a welcome relief to find a man who is a “gentleman” in all that the word implies.

I am speaking of Colin Clive. His personality and very fine work as the leading man in “The Lake,” the Katharine Hepburn play, made me insinuate my way back stage to his dressing room to find out if he (like the very careful Camille) were two different persons “off stage and on.”

I found a charming, ingenuous young man who looks as if there were so much more he could say--if he would.

My job was to make him say it!

Clive is tall. His eyes are very deep blue and very alive. Hard eyes to fathom. His manner rather shy, but delightful. After offering cigarets and a highball (Englishmen I’ve noticed have a sense of Southern hospitality!) we started talking about the theater.

The inevitable question: “Why did you go on the stage?”

“Why does anybody do anything? My family were all army people--members of the Bengal Lancers--and I was in the army until a smashed knee wrote finis to that.” (and now I knew the reason of that limp which has been described by some as a romantic pose).

“Then I landed in London job hunting. That is the obvious reason, but of course, knee or no knee, I would eventually have come to it. That inner urge that makes a man paint, write, or go in for sculpturing, was unconsciously driving me in that direction.”

He smiled--no, laughed. “Lord, but I was pretty awful in the beginning. Only, 10 years of repertory cured me of that--I mean my worse faults.”

“You believe in repertory, then?”

“It is the only thing. It is necessary, it is absolutely essential if a person wants to become a first-rate actor. Without repertory background I would never have dared attempt ‘Journey’s End’!”

It was Mr. Clive’s interpretation of the leading character in “Journey’s End” which established him in London’s inner circle known as “Artists of the Theater.”

He belongs to the thinkers of the stage. He can stay perfectly quiet during a scene and makes his audience think with him. He plays always with a fine restraint and a sympathy which communicates itself definitely. He is one of those rare persons who can play an entire scene with his back to the footlights and still dominate the stage.

Actresses have told me of his great generosity--speaking in the vernacular of stage folks--he does not try to steal the show.

*****

He is modest, almost to a fault, and is embarrassed at praise. I spoke of his excellent work in the movies. He said: “Sheer luck. I really don’t know anything about movie technique--the theater, perhaps--but I’ve been doing that for 16 years.”

Nevertheless he has made such a name for himself in the cinema that in the last six weeks three of the major companies have been bidding for his services. Warner Brothers won. He leaves Sunday morning for Hollywood and the Warner lot.

“Monday, I start the ‘Key,’ with Edna Best and beyond the first scene I’m entirely ignorant of the play. What a marvelous country you are!” He laughed and then grew serious again. “That is all right for me, for I’m a hardened sinner, but for beginners who suddenly find themselves facing big parts with no experience to help them, it is not an easy task. Those who have the real stuff win but they are the exception. The screen like the stage is beginning to demand experience from its actors.”

“Acting is a whole time job. There is more to it than the casual observer would think. The layman doesn’t realize for instance that the well modulated voice that he hears from the stage or the screen is the result of many tedious hours spent in coaching under voice culturists. The rhythm, grace of movement is not just a gift from the gods but is gained from well trained muscles--the outcome of daily sports or calisthenics.”

“Don’t you ever feel the need of relaxation?” I asked.

“Yes,” he smiled, “actors are only human after all. I find mine mostly in reading.”

This hobby was not surprising for I had been told that whenever a friend of his becomes ill that instead of the usual boxes from confectioners and florists he sends books by his favorite authors: Victor Hugo, Anatole France and Voltaire.

Noting a bottle of brandy on his dressing table, I asked him if he found liquor necessary as a stimulant for his work.

“No, the actor who must get his inspiration from a bottle of liquor finds himself in the same place that a business man of the same habits would find himself in. For acting is a business and dependability one of the chief assets. However, that doesn’ t mean that I’m a teetotler--drink has a good place in life.”

***

Among his best friends are Edna Best, Herbert Marshall, and Noel Coward--all of whom are his near neighbors in Kent, where he has a country place. He’s really a gregarious person. He refuses even to have breakfast alone. Found in that position he postpones the breaking of his fast until a congenial companion is annexed.

Another sport he enjoys is prizefighting. In fact, his first choice for the film-of-the-year would be “The Prizefighter and the Lady” (which showed in Birmingham as “The Conquering Sex”). It is testimony to his acting adaptability that he came straight from parts in musical comedy (“Rose Marie” and “Show Boat”) and created the dramatic role of Capt. Stanhope in “Journey’s End.” After which he played in “Overture,” a play written by one of his closest friends--the late William Bolitho.

This adaptability extends likewise to his geographical adjustment. “For the last six years I’ve practically commuted between London, New York and Hollywood. If it’s possible, I always go by plane.” He is one of the few movie celebrities on the coast who refuses to sign a long-term contract. One picture is all any company can be sure of his services. Tactfully he admitted that he disliked playing in the cinema. “One never gets the same reaction from the screen as you do from having an audience right close up.”

I ventured to ask about the “leading lady”--not of the stage or cinema--but of his own life.

“She’s not easy to describe,” he said earnestly. “I suppose you would call her a brunette, for her hair is dark, very dark and slightly bobbed except about the ears; she has deep, understanding eyes…”

“Oh” excitedly, “an Italian beauty?”

He threw back his head and laughed, really in a most un-British gesture. “No, to tell the truth this lady who rules my life is from Scotland--”

“Oh!”

Another merry laugh: “You see I’m speaking of my little Scotch terrier, ‘Brenda,’ who really makes a slave of me.”

Having had his joke he told me about his wife. She is a charming French woman who prefers life in Europe to “commuting” about the world with her celebrated husband. It is not as unusual as it sounds that Clive should have chosen a wife with Gallic ancestry since his own early life was passed entirely among French people. In fact, until he was 6 years old his vocabulary included not a single word of English.

[ayatosmlktea]

I’m trying something new because I’m in a funk and I just really want to write a Mikasa x fem!Reader fic because she deserves love. Also cause I’m like 4000% gay for her so there’s that. Also I was listening to I love you - Billie Eilish slowed down so if you really want to experience the right feelings listen to it! 

𝑰 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 ❤️

For as long as Y/N could remember she had taken an interest in the raven haired girl. It was well known that Mikasa’s skills were a force to be reckoned with, Y/N was well aware of how powerful her friend was. But that wasn’t the reason she had come to find herself so infatuated with the girl. What had caught her attention was how caring she was towards Eren and Armin. And all their friends for the matter. Y/N had convinced herself that her presence was nonexistent to Mikasa but their first real interaction had proved her wrong. Y/N found herself falling behind the others during training, her blades never striking the correct depth making her have the lowest kill count among their squad. Not to mention she was struggling during combat training. If she kept up the way she was training she would probably fall to the bottom of their class. Mikasa had been her sparring partner that evening, Y/N grunted in pain as her back came into contact with the ground yet again.

“You have good technique, you’re just lacking confidence. You hesitate too much.” The raven haired girl comments holding out her hand as a truce. Y/N could vividly remember the way the orange glow of the sunset cast an angelic halo around her frame. She had been too dumbfounded admiring how pretty Mikasa was to reply.

♡    ♡    ♡ 

From that day on, Y/N had convinced herself that the feelings she felt towards Mikasa were simply those of a caring friend. Of course she admired her affinity for acing anything Shadis threw at them, Y/N wanted to be as strong as Mikasa so why wouldn’t she watch her every move closely. So what if she had a weird feeling in her stomach any time their hands brushed together.

Their beds were next to each other giving Y/N the perfect opportunity to memorize her perfect features in her sleep. Which was a normal thing to do because all girls did that. Except, when it was Mikasa there was always something more bubbling under her skin. Sure she knew Krista and Sasha were pretty but she definitely didn’t lay awake daydreaming about kissing them.

After they had graduated, Y/N was only a little ashamed to admit that she had joined the scouts because of her. She wasn’t unskilled an solider and had managed to graduate ranking twelfth out of their class (with Mikasa’s help) but she had never thought about joining the scouting legion until that night. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make, she would have gladly died to keep Mikasa safe. Not that the girl really needed her to, on more than one occasion she’d witnessed firsthand how capable Mikasa was at defending herself.

♡    ♡    ♡ 

The night before their first journey outside the walls Y/N had been strangely quiet. Stirring her food around but not really eating anything as she listened to Jean try and fail to gain Mikasa’s attention. Jean’s incessant flirting never sat right with her, it always reminded her that she would probably never have the chance to win Mikasa’s heart.

“Why do you look so upset?” She asked later that night after everyone else had gone to sleep, Y/N’s eyes had been trained on the ceiling for who knows how long. It was a telltale sign that something was bothering her.

“It’s nothing” Y/N replies cooly.

“You’re a terrible liar Y/N” Scooting over to sit on the edge of her bed Mikasa stares down at her, trying her best not to squirm under the intense gaze Y/N forces herself to focus on the wall behind her friend’s head and not at her perfectly sculpted lips.

“Just nervous about tomorrow I guess” She finally sighs, sitting up and pushing herself backwards to lean against the headboard. Mikasa nods, everyone was nervous about their first expedition since joining the scouts. They had seen their fair share of titans after Trost but that wasn’t what had Y/N’s stomach knotting all day. Their reality weighing on her shoulders like a ton of bricks had her head swimming with doubt. There was a very real possibility that she might not come back alive tomorrow and Y/N didn’t know if she could die without at least trying to tell her friend how she felt.

The hand placed on her arm innocently had sparks shooting up her upper body.

“It’s going to be okay Y/N, you’re a capable soldier as long as you follow the commander’s orders you’ll be fine.” Mikasa wasn’t helping her internal dilemma by looking at her with those beautiful eyes that she dreamed about almost every night.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re kind of sweating a lot” Y/N’s eyes squeeze shut as Mikasa’s hand gently lays against her forehead. At this point Mikasa was close enough for her to smell the soap lingering from her shower.

“Y/N?” Her eyes flutter open to find Mikasa inches away from her face, curiosity and impulsivity overtaking any coherent thought she can muster as she leans in to close the gap between their lips. It was an awkward kiss, their noses bumping together but it was everything Y/N had dreamed of and more. Mikasa’s hands cup her face angling her face to deepen the kiss. She was convinced she had died and gone to heaven until Mikasa abruptly pulled back.

“This was a mistake” she whispers, her expression unreadable making Y/N want to shrink into the floor out of embarrassment. Wordless she moves back to her own bed, facing away from Y/N. Pulling the blankets over her head she groans silently, cursing herself for ruining their friendship over a stupid crush.

♡    ♡    ♡ 

The next morning had been uncomfortably awkward, Mikasa had woken up before Y/N leaving her to walk to the mess hall alone, something they usually did together. On one hand she was grateful for not having to face the consequences of her actions first thing in the morning but at the same time she knew that Mikasa was purposely avoiding her. Y/N couldn’t even bring herself to look in her general direction, a permanent pink tint staining her cheeks.

“You okay Y/N?” Armin questions, not trusting her voice she merely nods her head furiously focusing instead on the feeling of anticipation as they leave the walls.

She tried her best to survive, she really had but the expedition had taken a turn for the worse. The last thing she could remember was a titan jumping in front of her horse and grabbing it. Y/N couldn’t feel much after her body slammed into the ground, she was fairly sure she was already dead. Her consciousness drifting in and out sporadically. Screams flowing in one ear and out the other, her lids begin to droop slowly.

“Y/N!” A voice she could recognize anywhere screams, the sound of wires whizzing through the air vaguely registering in her brain. Mikasa’s body drops down next to hers, cradling her head in her lap.

“Don’t go to sleep Y/N!  Keep your eyes open, please!” Mikasa’s unusual panicked tone makes her eyes shift upwards to meet teary grey orbs. Figuring this was how she was going to die, Y/N musters all the strength she has left to confess the feelings she’d been harboring for almost four years.

“I’m s-sorry about la-st night” She pants, Mikasa furiously shakes her head in response.

“I jus-just - I need you t-to know...I lo-ve you” Her breathing becomes more laboured, every time she inhaled it felt like her lungs were on fire.

“Shut up! Stop talking like you’re going to die!”Mikasa cries, tears freely falling from her face some of them dripping onto Y/N’s cheeks.

“Y/N! Wake up!” She really wants to stay awake but with each passing second her body gets heavier, the blood pooling around her body making her limbs feel comfortably warm. The last thing Y/N feels is a familiar pair of lips against her own before everything fades to black.

♡    ♡    ♡ 

Upon waking up Y/N was convinced that she was dead, the scene before her almost too perfect to be real. Warm evening sunlight cascading through the windows filling the room with a familiar orange glow . Mikasa’s head was leaning on the edge of her bed, one hand loosely gripped around hers.

‘If this is heaven I can’t complain’ she thought, weakly tightening her fingers around Mikasa’s warm hand. The movement immediately makes her head jerk up. Red rimmed grey eyes widening with relief as she lunges forward to entrap her body in a hug.

“I thought I was going to lose you” she whispers hoarsely. Ignoring the dull throbbing of pain throughout her entire body Y/N brings her hand up to comb her fingers through soft black locks.

“Not yet” she smiles. The silence between them is comfortable, peaceful.

“Did you kiss me?” Y/N asks abruptly, the images of her last conscious moments suddenly coming back in pieces. Mikasa leans back against the bed her cheeks flushed red, a look that was uncharacteristic of the stoic girl.

“Maybe” She mumbles feeling strangely shy under Y/N’s amused expression.

“Why?” Rolling her eyes in exasperation Mikasa leans forward to place a longer kiss against her chapped lips.

“Because I love you too”

Masterlist