#and in other voice lines like i said he sounds like mika which is also so disappointing

[4giorno]

okay naris heh cant see? line sounds AMAZING. its a line that you rlly have to say confidently so thats probably why but still!!!

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

one.

the beginning of everything

then...

The place was new, that much was clear.

The buildings, houses were comparably bigger than the ones you’re used to.

And it was a lot less cold, since you weren't in Miyagi anymore.

It had been a long drive to Hyougo.

"Nee-san," you poked at your older sister's shoulder, she lazily stirred. On your other side was your younger brother, who dozed off as well. And then there was you, awake. For 12 hours. Not a wink of sleep. For some reason, you couldn't sleep during trips. Your uncle had said maybe because you were an anxious traveler, your mom would like to think that your mind was too active and liked to take things in.

You didn't know.

Hey, you were only 9.

A long way from home and into your new home in Kobe, Hyogo.

The whole trip - process, included, had been a blur. You could make out holding your sister and brother’s hands, hugging your crying kind neighbors and playmates, but feeling like a robot throughout the process.

And now, with your feet planted on the ground, (e/c) eyes just taking everything in - it was a lot to take in.

As was the house, the house you visited a few times – maybe once or twice. It was bigger, much bigger than your old one – wider, a two-story building, but enough to house four more guests.

On the way, you caught your uncle and mother’s conversation about how the suburb they’re living in is one of the best in Hyogo, boasting a view of the Sakuras which the youngins (you included) will definitely enjoy in time for spring, and was close to the station and the few minutes’ drive away from his work, where she’ll be joining soon.

You stand in front of your new home, examining the streets, noting the abundance of trees – sakuras, especially, like your uncle said. Leaning to your side, lifting your one leg away, you found a park just five blocks away, your brother would surely love that.

Planting your feet back, you gaze back into your house. Taking a deep breath, as though to have a feel of the area, a voice suddenly called out.

"Hey, who're you?"

Blinking, you turned. 

"Oi, don't be rude, Atsumu." another voice says next to him.

You blink again.

Twins.

Twin boys.

They looked to be about your age, standing a few feet away from your home, peering curiously at your uncle's truck, the boxes, and you.

"But hey, who're you?" one of them asks.

"Are you new here?" says the other.

Their accents were rather thick even for their age, rising with every syllable and somewhat airy compared to the standard Tohoku dialect you were used to.

"Yes." You reply simply.

Before another word was said, your uncle appears from behind you, a gentle hand on your head. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Miya boys - Atsumu and Osamu!"

"Uncle!" the twins says in unison, rather energetically.

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around you as he stood next to you. “What’re you boys up to, eh? Trouble?”

“No way!” says one, pitch rising. His twin beside him murmurs, “Maybe.”

“Oi, Osamu, way to keep a secret.”

Amused by the twins, you let out a chortle then a smile. It lasted for a quick second, but the two caught on it.

"Aha, so you can smile!" one of the twins pointed at you, his stubby finger just inches from your face.

"Atsumu, don't point!" his twin slaps his finger away. "s'rude, and ya might poke her eyes out!"

Beside you, your uncle chuckles at the two, seemingly used to their antics.

You just stare at the twins - at their identical features down to the littlest details. And then it came to you.

"You're Atsumu," you looked at the boy to your left, who jumped at your voice. "And you're Osamu." you say to the boy to your right, who blinks twice at you. "Right?"

The twins blinked at you, eyes wide like saucers, then looked at each other in silence, then to you. It was almost comical how the twins reacted to something like this, and just how in sync they were.

Beside you, your uncle throws his head back and lets out a guffaw. "That's my (Y/N)! Such a smart cookie!"

Feeling his large hand ruffle your head, you ducked your tiny head and smiled a little, feeling warm and proud all at once.

"How did you know!?" Atsumu yelled, demanded, stepping in front of you.

"Atsumu," Osamu said in warning, pulling him back harshly. "sorry 'bout this one."

You smile at Osamu in understanding, already liking his calm demeanor as opposed to his twins.

You shook your head at the two, leaning against your uncle as you continued to stare the twins down. Man, they sure were full of energy and perfectly balance each other out. Without even knowing, the corners of your lips quirk into a smile.

now...

A blur of blue, yellow, and red slowly lands on the ground, just inches away from the line, as players desperately try to save it. But it was for not. The ball lands with a smack.

The referee raises a flag, an in.

The whistle blows.

And then the stadium bursts with joy.

Inarizaki has won the first set.

“Hey, manager-?!”

“Service ace is in favor of Atsumu.” Just as he threw his fist in the air to celebrate, you added. “More than half were fails, by the way." At that, the teen flinches. "You got way too excited for the rest.” The team snickers, Osamu gloating in the background.

“The fact that she actually kept score is amazing.” Ginjima said in awe.

“Nothing escapes her, what a reliable manager!” Kosaku praises with a smile.

"There's nothing noteworthy about that," Kita adds, arms folded over his chest, the two players quickly silenced and felt a shiver run down their spine. "but if it helps boost morale and keep the peace, then it's fine."

“Kita-san and Manager are always in sync, that's just creepy,” Suna thought aloud as he took a sip.

Someone’s hand lands on your head as you check your notes one last time, it was the captain’s. “Well, when you have a reliable manager, all is well!”

Thinning a smile, you nod at everyone. “Come on now, we should head to the other court.”

Although he was not a regular player, Kita was there beside you to act as an assistant manager. He’d also be there to give tips and give the team a much needed scolding that their lax captain couldn’t give. It was both coaches and the vice-captain’s idea. It also helped that you were there, too. Ever the hard-working, illustrious and known for the moniker – ‘Inarizaki’s Fox Keeper’.

Just as you turn, you felt arms wrapped around your shoulder. “Let’s win this shit!”

“’Tsumu, get off (Y/N), you’re tainting her with your stupidity,” says Osamu, appearing beside you.

“Ha!? Shut up, ya scrub!”

“Why don’t you say that to my face!”

“I am in your face, you asshole!”

The twins’ yelling sounded off, their noise adding to the excitement of the tournament. Practically all eyes were on you, because of the twins.

Used to this, you decide to speak your mind. “Guys, I am in between this childish tomfoolery.”  To which the twins flinch at, comically look at you in unison.

“Oi, that’s foul play, (Y/N)-chan.” Atsumu says, pulling you close.

“Yeah, you know we’re both too stupid to understand complex words.” Osamu seconds, pinching at strands of your hair.

“Yeah- HUH!? WHO’RE YA CALLIN’ STUPID?”

Reaching the other side of the court, you were stuck between the twins as they fought for the nth time as the rest of the team watches.

And then there was you, a faint smile on your lips.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wriggling out of your uncle’s arms, you announced that you were heading inside, barely sparing the twins another look.

Suddenly, out came your sister from the car, rubbing at her eyes as she walks towards you. "(Y/N)!!!!! Why didn't you tell me we were here already?"

“You looked like you needed the extra sleep,” you told her, taking your still sleeping brother from her arms. “Seriously, he sleeps like a log.” You comment on your baby brother, tucking his head on your shoulder.

Looking behind you, your sister asks, “Who’s uncle talking to?”

“The neighbors.”

She perks at that, ever the social butterfly that she was. “Oh! Let’s go say ‘hi’ then!”

“You do that, I’ll get inside, get Kaoru into a bed or something, then help mom out.”

Pouting, your big sister grabs the back of your shirt. “Geh, come on!!!! You’re no fun, (Y/N)!”

“Oya, Mika-chan, you’re awake! Come, come, say hi!”

Smiling at your uncle’s words, your big sister practically skips to his side, grinning toothily as she introduces herself. “Hi! I’m (L/N) Mika!”

“Nice ‘ta meetcha!” Atsumu grins back, swiping the underside of his nose. “The name’s Atsumu.”

“Osamu,” his twin says with a small smile.

As one, the twins look behind your sister, meeting your gaze, almost expectantly. Not long after, so does your big sister.

With a sigh, you hoist your little brother in your arms, walking towards them. “(Y/N),” you mutter. Your big sister bumps her hips to yours, you cry in pain softly. “Hi, I’m (Y/N).” She bumps again, with a slight frown on her face, you paid no mind. “And this sleeping lump is Kaoru.”

“Ain’t this adorable, the youngins catching up!” your uncle exclaims, happily.

Mika grins widely at the two boys, who grin back at the you all in turn.

From that moment on, you knew these twins would be a part of your lives, yours, especially, for better or for worst.

masterlist • two

[logistic-worms]

I take a crack at guessing the next shuffle units

(E for Eternal/Everlasting? Easter? Eight? Episode?)

Point 5* Yuzuru, Gacha 5* Tomoya, Point 4*s Nagisa & Kohaku, Gacha 4* Tatsumi. 

I don’t know why, but I have a strong feeling that Yuzuru and Tomoya will be in a shuffle together…

Set Up:

Eternal/Everlasting: This is just an out-there concept idea that I liked. Plus it would sound nice in marketing i.e the song title, unit name, or event title.

Easter: With this being the next shuffle unit I can’t see  it being in April as that may be too far into the next year, but it’s not a reach they’ll do an Easter event with a shuffle, it might just not be ‘E’. But I would like these specific characters to be in the Easter unit; The Ra*bits leader as well as the practicing christian, just makes sense. Nagisa and Kohaku are mostly just in there for aesthetics (they would look good in pastels, which is what I envision the unit outfits’ color-scheme to be).

Eight: I honestly don’t know why I wrote ‘eight’ down. I forget number symbolism… But the last unit, Ring.A.Bell, had a ‘23’ hidden in the logo which referenced diamond carats, so I can see numbers being used again.

Episode: This is mostly thinking of the advertising set up in-story. Maybe Anzu is tasked with forming a unit to sing a song that will be used in an episode of a drama or a song to promote an episode of said drama.

(F for Festival)

Point 5* Madara, Gacha 5* Kuro, Point 4*s Hinata & Koga, Gacha 4* Subaru. 

Just kind of obvious.

Set Up:

Eichi tasks Anzu to form a unit to perform at a festival that ES is holding or something along those lines.

I like the idea of Mama overhearing this and practically begging Anzu to make him the unit’s leader.

But it’d also be cute if Anzu knows just how much Madara enjoys festivals and understands that he would make the best leader for such a unit, recruiting him herself.

Maybe an emphasis on taiko and fireworks/firecrackers?

Koga’s kind of an outlier but I put him in there to contrast Hinata’s voice. Hopefully he likes this sort of thing, he certainly has the energy for it.

(G for Gift? Greetings?)

Point 5* Hokuto, Gacha 5* Tsukasa, Point 4*s Shu & Rinne, Gacha 4* Ibara.

They’re gonna do two Christmas units. I just know it.

Set Up:

Another holiday shuffle, but more "mature" this time.

No, I don’t know why Rinne’s here. No, it’s not because RinneShu is the Best-Worst dynamic in all of Ensemble Stars. Definitely not because of that.

This is just kind of made up of leftovers…

Ibara seems like a Scrooge-type let’s explore that.

(H for Heart)

Point 5* Arashi, Gacha 5* Hiiro, Point 4*s Tetora & Jun, Gacha 4* Rei.

I know it's pretty out there, just listen.

Set Up:

I’m not sure if I want this to be a Valentine’s event or not but it could work either way.

I’ve thought about the unit members in this shuffle a bit more than others and I know that shuffles are more random than anything but here:

Arashi: Love and acceptance for one’s self. Hiiro: Love for one’s family. Found family & Blood-related. Rei: Sensuality, idk just read Bloody Moon Vampire lyrics. Tetora: Love and respect for others. Jun: Making one’s own love, kind of found family. Whatever he and Hiyori have going on. Maybe the inexperienced lover that complements everyone else in the unit.

As for the task they’ve been given perhaps a magazine shoot, or an ad for something that has to do with self-care. Or an event is being held for couples/families to attend that just sounds really lovey-dovey.

I absent-mindedly put Karate Club together, whoops.

(I for Instinct/Intuition? Illuminate? Ignite?)

Point 5* Tsumugi, Gacha 5* Mika, Point 4*s Adonis & Shinobu, Gacha 4* Wataru.

This just kind of makes sense to me? IDK!!

Set Up:

Ah yes, two wizards, a doll, a ninja, and your run-of-the-mill guy’s guy. Such an interesting set of folks. They all look really good together, color palette wise.

I would want this shuffle to be magic/sorcery themed. Not necessarily wizardry, but the unit outfits should be flowy and light/delicate. Kind of like the Switch Pleiades MV outfit colors/materials wise.

Story set up would maybe be like an advertisement for performance wear or gear like microphones and what not. It’s just random. I didn’t really put a lot of thought into what Anzu’s tasked to do with this shuffle.

(J for Jester? Jewel?)

Point 5* Mayoi, Gacha 5* Hiyori, Point 4*s Kanata & Yuuta, Gacha 4* Ritsu

Set Up:

Leftovers... but I think their voices would sound nice together.

Yes ! ! Put Mayoi and a Sakuma together. I want lore please please please.

I think either theme, Jester/Jewel, would be interesting and would result in gorgeous MV/Homescreen outfits.

They could each symbolize a gemstone? Hmm...

I have an idea song wise for this shuffle... It’d be jazz-y, that’s it, that’s the song idea.

Let me know how cringe or based my takes were. Sorry this is so long.

[goodguydotmp3]

two questions: why don’t you like harry and do you really think harry villanized the weed video or do you think that was the people attempting to court him (azoffs)

Whew, this is a long one folx!

Why don’t you like Harry [Styles]?

Let me preface this response by saying that I’m a pretty new “fan” if one can still call me that. I got into the One Direction fandom in the summer of last year, and much of my opinions of the boys where shaped by fan reactions. After gathering more and more information however, I realized that the fandom and I were wrong about some things, and over hyping others. 

Still, it wasn’t until this year that I actually broke out of the Harry-centric bubble to realize that the shady goings on where much worse than I originally thought. Add to this my realization that Harry’s music really doesn’t withstand the test of time, and that his persona is pretty Stagnant, and I’ve come to feel rather bamboozled.

Of course I know that the entire point of his PR team is to sway public opinion of him one way, and if I ate it up that was part of the plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. It also doesn’t mean I feel any less hurt about it. It also doesn’t mean that I like when other people fawn over him, as quite a lot of what I’m going to say has been public knowledge, and some of it before I was even a fan.

A. Music

 Actually getting to a big part of the problem here, his music isn’t good. Well, not long term like I said in the preface. He doesn’t really have much of a vocal range despite being a singer for more than ten years. He does not care and acts like he does, often leading to him sounding like he’s screaming instead of singing. He’s lyrics are boring and flat, and his melodies are fine, they just don’t make up for his unmemorable lyrics. I personally think that the cause is him more heavily relying on song writers to fill in more in more, but that’s mostly because I don’t want to believe that the same person who wrote Happily and Olivia also wrote At the Dining Table and Treat People With Kindness, because that would just mean he’s getting worse or putting forth less effort. 

Of course one could argue that I’m not a professional, I don’t have the necessary Jargon to correctly critique, and I’m no longer a singer so I can’t even do what he does. But to that I say fuck off. I know what sounds good! I know what I like! 

Even more than that though, If you bought a product (non food), and you could only use that product for the first two weeks you bought it, you’d say it was a shit product! You’d scream from the rooftops that no one should ever buy this product because it’s crap! Well guess what? I pre-ordered Fine Line just to listen for two weeks and never pick it up again except for golden, she’s a funky tune every couple months. 

Besides the test of time, there is still the subject of actual talent/listenability if you will. I feel there’s four main categories when I listen to music that makes it worth listening to

1.Amazing voice

2.Awesome lyrics

3.Funky/ cool ass melody/Beat

4.Catchy as hell

Now, a song doesn’t need to be all four, however the more they have the more likely I am to like the song. Also, I’ve said “main categories” because I’ve definitely had songs were I just through the beat drop was cool, or maybe the bridge was sick as hell, or maybe I just liked the pacing or the way the singer/singers stressed a note. Alternatively there is a sweet spot for me of super depressing lyrics but a melody/ that makes you want to dance. See: most of After Laughter by Paramore, Lola By Mika. But in general, those four usually make me love a song long term.

If it’s an album, it usually Just has to sound like it belongs on the same album/ tell a story. Like I really don’t like albums that sound like it’s just a playlist of songs personally. I should be able to listen to a song and go “oh yeah, that’s off --- album” or I didn’t like the album as a whole. An album is a bit like an outfit to me. It’s not going to be all tops, nor does it need to be monochromatic, but it does need to go together

For Example, I love Four as an album. I thought it was amazing. I still hate Spaces and Illusion. I hate both of their melodies, I don’t like the Illusion intro, I’m not to keen on those lyrics, and they’re definitely not catchy, I skip every time. 

So taking that logic to Harry’s music, I think HS1 works very well as an album, almost all of the songs sound like they’re supposed to be there. And I hate every song but Kiwi. The lyrics are boring/don’t make a ton of sense, the melodies definitely don’t make up for that, he doesn’t have the range, and none of them are catchy! And then you get to Kiwi and she’s got that vibe you know? She’s a pop punk bop and I cannot fucking believe that Harry has one pop punk bop among unmemorable pop rock album.

Going to Fine line, It’s not as great as an album. There are some songs that don’t really feel like they fit? Like just going through the album, cherry doesn’t have any business being there? Like the lyrics fit sure, but what is that weird intro and outro? It probably would have been fine If the song didn’t have those two, but having them there upset the pace a bit I felt. And then there was Treat People With Kindness, which was really Jarring and doesn’t feel like it belongs on the album at all? It  actually feels like it’s trying to be Kiwi - it’s loud and garish, and the lyrics are trying to be carefree, but! It just doesn’t work! TPWK sounds like Hippie music! Kiwi sounds like Brendon Urie could sing it and people would be like “good ol Panic!”. And then the album goes back down into Fine line the song, which again is Jarring because you’ve had this TPWK monstrosity right before it.

Then, looking at the overarching theme of his music, It’s whiny piss baby music He hates to take responsibility for his actions! It’s all in his lyrics! And don’t get me wrong, I love Honest lyrics, but not if the person is an asshole! LIke I fucking hate confessions by Usher specifically becasue he’s talking about how much he’s a piece of shit in the most whiny and piss baby way, making it all about him and no the people he hurt. I also really hate that one song that Zayn did with Usher and Chris Brown, because you have these awful men completely misunderstanding what it means to write a love song, and then you have Zayn at the very end all like “actually I really am in love tho…” Esp Chris browns verse! It boils down to “Hey I know I was a asshole seven billion times but I miss you tho :(“ GIRL BYE! 

Harry sounds the exact same though, Except he can’t even blame himself for his own mistakes, and just wades through self pity about how the object of his affection won’t love him even though he didn’t even do anything except it wasn’t his fault and why are you still mad it wasn’t even his fault and he was young and reckless and drunk and horny. Like??? WRITE A NEW SONG TAYLOR SWIFT 2.0! There’s only so much you can repackage the same narrative before it becomes stale no Cinderella does not count keep that shit coming. And It really jumps out in his writing, even through 1d, although I will say there were some catchy beats, and awesome lines to keep him afloat back then. Although wtf was Walking in the Wind??? Choke!

Then there are the melodies I’m talking post wondee here which often give this 70’s pop rock vibe. Which fine I guess, it’s his brand, but that doesn’t make it interesting. Or new. Or fresh. Or an interesting take. 

Now I completely understand relying on nostalgia to boost people’s opinion, but you could at leas have the decency to actually have good music. For Example, Miss you by Louis Tomlinson has a very distinctive pop rock feel, but it’s also an amazing song. Great lyrics, amazing voice, catchy liddle diddy that happens to be reminiscent of that 2005- 2010 punk pop/emo pop feel. Sour diesel has that like,,,basey 90s pop feel, and it fucking works with the lyrics, and of course his voice is beautiful. When Walls dropped and Lou put out that playlist of songs that were an inspiration, you can hear the influences when you listen to the album, but they’re also really good songs in their own right, with amazing lyrics, and Louis’ distinctive voice. Comparing that to Harry, it seems like he’s mostly relying on people’s nostalgia rather than actually good music.

Okay so this last point I’m making on music is a little petty but it’s been like a week and I’m still pissed about it so I’m saying it now. Someone said that Harry Styles is the best pop rock artist right now???? Just admit that you don’t listen to pop rock tf. Louis Tomlinson is right there. Brendon Urie is right there. Mika is right there. Haley Williams is right there. Janell Monae is right there. I don’t listen to a lot of pop rock lol but i feel my point has been made

B. Public Persona

He get’s so much clout! SO MUCH CLOUT! For doing the bare minimum (this is not specifically about the fandom, that’s for later)! People will write all these glowing reviews of him for him??? Being polite??? Like okay and? Just because a person is polite doesn’t mean they’re fucking Jesus??? There’s a million and one stories so i’m not fucking looking them up but there’s the pizza story and the fish story and the plane story and the snl story and the Stormzy story and the WS story on and on and on! Stop giving this man brownie points for basic human decency. “I didn’t expect him to be like that!” okay is that because of their perception of what a rock star is supposed to be like? Because in that case we need to start holding people accountable for being assholes. Or is it because he seems like an asshole. Cause valid.

I also don’t like him leaning so heavily on the queer image thing. Like! If that’s how he likes to express himself, Fine, But so much of it is just...so manufactured! And I Know I’ve heard people say oh well he wore the one rainbow on his lapel that one time or he wore the shirt or he wore the Keith Harring.

1. That Rainbow pin is sus as hell I don’t care what ya’ll say It absolutely screams set up, if he wanted to not be seen he would have not been seen 

2. That goes for literally every other time. I can’t believe it’s not a set up to push a queer image. (that he profits from!)

3. If he actually did his homework on Keith Harring he’d know that the man was a predator, and he wouldn’t have worn those shirts. It seems so performative! To add to that, does he know now? If so, why isn’t he using his platform to correct his mistake? Why didn’t he come out and let people know not to buy Harring’s stuff??? He knows the pull he has! He absolutely could have been like “I’ve made a mistake, if you are looking for queer artists to support, here’s some” But he fucking doesn’t

4. To add on to that last part, It is actually sus that he gets to profit off of this queer image, and yet the only queer voices that he’s propping up are white gays. And then not even directly? Not a “queer artists, esp queer artists of color are important and need their voices boosted because they are the back bone of society” but this wink nod type of deal, where again, he mainly boosts white gays.like??? One queer black woman that doesn’t work for the Azoffs, and then a bunch of white gays. Like?? That’s not racist to anyone else???????Just me? okay.

Now from a professional point of view, it’s even worse. I’m not saying that artists can’t be campy or blurr gender lines, or imply that they ‘re queer subtly. But I think it’s fucking disrespectful to play both ends. Like, he profits off of using the queer image, all while Dancing around the subject, but then on the back end he never says that Homophobes/Transphobes aren’t allowed in his fandom. He gives this empty ass tpwk and then washes his hands of it. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am always upset when people who have lots of queerphobes in their fandom bullying and harassing the actual queer people never say anything to let queerphobes know they’re unwelcome (clearly money is better than morals) but for me it’s an extra kick to the gut for it to literally profit Harry to seem queer. Look at that time that  gay company sold out shirts in less than an hour,because harry was wearing it and tell me people aren’t throwing money at him because they feel he’s queer. 

C. Fashion

This one is a really rough one for me because this is partially what drew me into Harry in the first place. But he’s really not all that in terms of fashion. He’s expensive certainly, but sometimes, the things that are more expensive are worse. Even When He’s not looking like a grandparent out on the town, his style is very dated, and yet he gets paraded around like he’s the freshest new thing?? Like who is his team paying of for him to get that many articles about how he’s fashion’s biggest star. And the thing is, his style is even dated for the mainstream. There’s already a post about how he copies prominent pop/pop rock stars of the 70s, which means that his style is 50 years old for the mainstream. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s totally fine if you’re addicted to seventies wear. I don’t think he should be heralded as this huge fashion star if his wardrobe is this dated

Even more than that. Gucci???? The Gucci with a history of Racism?? The Gucci with the child labor??? The Gucci with the 14 hour days Gucci??? Ugly ass Gucci????? Soulja Boy don’t even fuck with Gucci no more and he fuck with Gucci since like 2007. (although that was because of the racism, not cause it’s ugly)

I think that bothers me the most though. Like it’s not enough to exploit people, you also have to be tacky ugly and expensive???? For what??? @Gucci cease to exist please.

If Harry wants to be tacky ugly and expensive, that’s of course his rights to do so! But don’t act like he’s at the very pinnacle of fashion every time he does. 

I’m actually always very conflicted about that. I personally prefer a style that’s very loud and campy and avant garde but like,,,,that ain’t it. Maybe it’s something you got it or ya don’t??? Like for example Billy Porter could wear a trashbag and make it work. The expensive sweaters and the slacks? The suits? Not a good look on one Harry Styles. Maybe it’s because they’re expensive sweaters and slacks and expensive suits. What are you, Ted from accounting??? Grow up.

D. Treat People With Kindness

Ugh this is the thing that pisses me off like the second to most. This phrase is so fucking empty. You could not have made up a more corporate mandated phrase if you fucking tried. It stands for nothing! Just like him!

Let’s break it down. “Treat people with kindness” is, at face value, a call to action. It’s asking you to do something. But it doesn’t actually tell you what to do!! So it’s pretty inoffensive! You don’t actually have to change your behavior in anyway for two main reasons:

1. What the hell is Kindness??? This phrase never actually says what it is??? It’s just this short little punchy thing that assumes you know what kindness is! What if you didn’t actually know? What if you have differing ideals of what is considered kindness? I mean to my mother, Misgendering me is kindness, but I don’t think that’s kindness. To my father, not letting his children have autonomy is kindness, but I don’t find that kind. And yet they could both use that phrase and feel confident that they go around treating people with kindness. After all they cooked dinner didn’t they? They smiled at Janice from public relations didn’t they? That’s kindness right?

2. It also assumes you know what “people” are. Queer people are people. Queerphobes don’t consider queer people, people. Racists aren’t going to consider some people, people. So they can continue their harassment and dehumanization of them and still be treating people with kindness, because they never harmed actual people (to them)

E. Harry bots

Bitch?? Corporate spies?? Tf ??? That’s not weird to ya’ll ?? I think the thing that shocked me more than someone from Colombia records admitting that he manufactures the hype around people signed to Colombia, is the fact that the Fandom been knew!!!! Ya’ll been knew and ya’ll wasn’t gon tell me???????? I just found out last week wtf????????

Another thing I don’t like about them Harry bots, is it’s one thing to hype up Harry, but why tf do they need to shit on the other boys??? Is it because they’re more talented, good looking, and charming??? How about you get good!!!! I esp hate that it’s usually Louis. What is Corporate’s obsession with putting Louis down like? What a bunch of fucking weirdos?? It’s not enough to be a Harry fan and live up his ass, I gotta hate Louis too?? You lost yo damn mind. If you reading this and you a spy? Die.

F. Capitalism

Honestly that should be the end of it but here the fuck we go I guess. Now I get that there is going to be some capitalism involved when you get music, especially mainstream music, there are tones of articles out there with people who used to be in the industry telling you about how fucking awful it is, all in the pursuit of money. (Which isn’t fucking real by the way! We made it up! People out here getting traumatized! Belittled! Bullied! Married off! So some corporation can make all the money! The Imaginary Credits! That we made up! I hate it here!) 

But it’s another fucking thing to participate in a capitalist system? He invested into that one sleep app, even going to do one of the voice sessions (So you could have Harry Styles themed sleep paralysis) and you pay for that! He makes money off that! It’s not enough that you buy his mediocre music or his ugly ass merch, you also have to give him money through the sleep paralysis app. 

Then there was that Google Camp for Rich People Only! I don’t even want to fucking hear that it was on Climate Change oh wow all the rich people took helicopters and Yachts to a resort with manicured lawns??? To talk about how they treat the environment? That’s not at all Counter intuitive! Not at all for show! Fucking disgusting.

Oh and the Covid Shirt! Really bitch??? You need to Profit off a deadly pandemic? Are you profiting off of AIDS next you fucking bastard. And he can of course get a tax write of for his “ charitable donation” fuck off.

G. Racism

This! This is the thing that gets me the most! YA’LL CAN EXCUSE RACISM???

No, I’m not talking about the Native American Headdress thing, that was plenty despicable on it’s own, No I’m talking about the on going racism. The whole, using black people for clout and then dropping them and never returning the favor when they sing his praises thing. Specifically I’m thinking of Sis the activist, Stormzy, and Lizzo. 

The Lizzo thing pisses me off the most actually. I think it’s very fucking convenient that Harry started taking interest in Lizzo after there was uproar from black fans noting his hypocrisy of performing for Pepsi (Notoriously racist) and Having BLM sticker on his guitar. So he shows up at one of her concerts dressed like a senior citizen that got lost on the way to the retirement home bathroom. She looked fucking amazing and he couldn’t put forth the effort to at least not look senile. Then there was the covering of her songs, and then there was the cuddling up with her at the awards show. Funny how I haven’t seen any interaction after the fact! And Of course everyone forgot about the Pepsi concert! Fuck all the way off!!

Also! Are we just never going to talk about the fact that he didn’t comment on the blm protests earlier this year until his team could gauge whether or not it would be profitable to do so by DATA MINING HIS FAN BASE???? And then when he actually did he got the most praise for it, truly fucking hate it here. Also when he marched with those protesters he made sure we knew it was him. There were posts flouting around everywhere on how to best cover up to make yourself completely unrecognizable should you wind up on camera or fucking worse, get attacked by the police. Funny how Close Sprouse could follow the advice and not Harry? Also supper funny how he got the hell out of dodge before things got super bad and I have not heard anything on the matter since. Guess what Harry??? We’re still out here fighting for the rights to exist! Still wanna have a photo op while our own government tries to squash us with force????? This is like that Jenner Pepsi ad but with sunglasses and a pandemic.

H. Fandom

I think I would hate him less if I didn’t have to hear about him every hour of everyday. Stop Hyping this man so much. Even after unfollowing and blocking a bunch of Harries and Larries he’s all across my dash. And twitter. And insta. KURTIS CONNER FUCKING LIKES HIM I JUST WANTED CRACK CONTENT AND NOW LOOK. 

I. Conclusion.

After writing all this I think the running theme is that Harry Styles isn’t even a person, he’s a brand. I do not like or trust brands! And I definitely don’t like being advertised to! Just like It’s fake as fuck when Absolut is all about queer rights, it’s fake as fuck when Harry does it too. Just like I know Target doesn’t actually care about Black lives, I know Harry doesn’t either. People are always like “oh he’s so nice!” no! He’s polite! There’s a difference. Zayn Is a truly kind person. Liam is a truly kind person. Louis is a truly kind person. It shines though so brightly all the time, and yet people are really out here worshiping the Brand Harry Styles. 

Do I think It was Harry or The Azoffs throwing Zouis under the bus. 

Truly doesn’t matter! Whichever one did it, Harry was totally fine with it! Which tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’ll go along with anything as long as it gets him to the top, and that’s fucked up on one million and one levels

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (10/ ?)

word count: 6k

AO3

part 1   / part 2 / part 3  / part 4  / part 5 / part 6  / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 11

Slowly, the snow began to thaw as winter melted into spring.

Dandy had only asked him to stay for the cold months. There had never been any talk of Geralt staying any longer than that.

He did it anyway. No one mentioned it and maybe it was just Geralt’s imagination, but when the first flowers bloomed and Geralt was still with the troupe, the smiles they gave him were warmer and when Nadine hugged him one morning, before he went away for a bit for an easy contract, it felt like a hug that welcomed him to the family.

It took a while to convince Dandy that the contracts Geralt took while the others performed, were nowhere near as dangerous as his fight with the skullwarg. It took even longer until Dandy’s worry for him turned into giddy curiosity.

Dandy kept insisting that Geralt had to give him all the details of his hunts, so that he could stop worrying about him. Geralt gladly obliged.

There was a fluttering in Geralt’s chest like a bird’s wings, when Dandy first announced that he was going to write another play, this one about monsters and witchers.

Watching him work was like watching the sky change colours when the sun rose. Breathtaking, no matter how often he got to witness it.

Sometimes, Dandy dictated the lines his mind created to Geralt or one of the other players. Other times, he wrote them down himself, in a scrip that Geralt had never seen before. The rest of the troupe knew how to read it though, for Nadine read over Dandy’s scripts with a critical eye and gave suggestions where she saw fit.

More and more often, Dandy also asked Geralt for his opinion on what he was writing. His mouth formed a surprised “Oh” when Geralt reminded him that he didn’t know how to read what Dandy wrote.

From then on, Geralt spent most of their evenings after the performances or the fight scene rehearsals with Dandy, who taught him patiently how to read the way he did.

“Here,” Dandy said, when he was satisfied with Geralt’s progress on recognising individual letters. Out of a pocket in his coat, he produced a single sheet of paper and handed it to Geralt. “This was the first thing I ever wrote.”

Geralt hesitated, before unfolding the paper carefully. “You always carry this with you?”

Dandy hummed in affirmation. “I almost left it for my parents to keep. They were so proud when I finally learned to write and read. My mother actually cried and my father hugged me so tightly I thought he was going to break my back.”

A soft smile spread across Dandy’s lips and his fingers gently ran over the paper, tracing the word he had written there decades ago.

It did something strange to Geralt’s chest. “Why did you keep it then?”

“As a reminder. Of my parents.”

Geralt’s hands clenched and unclenched, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, placing one hand over Dandy’s. “I know you never mention them, but…if you want to talk about it…”

Dandy’s sudden laughter startled Geralt.

“Oh, no no, they aren’t dead or anything like that.” Dandy turned his hand to guide Geralt’s fingers to the thing he had written there. “Here, read that.”

Geralt did as he was told. “Leon Nowak, Baron of Whitecoast?” Geralt looked up at Dandy to see if he had read it correctly. Dandy beamed and pressed a kiss against Geralt’s cheek. It was a fleeting little peck, nothing more, but Geralt wished it would linger, wished he could just lean down and steal a real kiss from Dandy.

Instead he ran his fingers over the name again.

“Who is that?” Geralt asked.

“Oh.” Dandy waved his hand around, accidentally – or perhaps not so accidentally – swatting Geralt’s chest in the process. “That’s me.”

Geralt’s brows shot up. “You’re a baron? I thought you said you weren’t rich?”

“Well, it’s true. I’m not. My parents are.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched. “They didn’t disinherit you, did they? Because you’re…”

“No. Gods, no they would never do that.” Dandy looked affronted by the very notion. “If I wrote them a letter asking for money, they wouldn’t hesitate to send me a small fortune They even offered the troupe their patronage, should we ever be in need of it.” He let out a small, content sigh. “But I don’t want that. Don’t get me wrong, having money is nice and I love visiting them and not sleeping in a wagon or an inn for once. But I like earning my own coin. Even if it’s not nearly as much as they could give me.”

Geralt gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re good at acting. You seem happy when you’re on stage.”

“I am.” Pride tinged his voice that made Geralt’s heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. “It’s really important to me being able to do that.” He let out a short laugh. “I can’t say my parents weren’t worried when I announced that I wanted to travel, but they have supported me every step along the way until I could support myself.”

Geralt ran his fingers over the bumps and dots that were Dandy’s name once more. “They taught you how to write.”

“Eh, not exactly. They had no idea that this kind of script even existed. But they have wealth and influence and they love me enough to use it to get me the best tutor they could find. A sorceress, if you can believe it.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. “What? Sorceresses don’t just become tutors. They are at court or work for the lodge or –“

“Yeah, believe me, I have no idea why Philippa agreed to teach me.”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat and his blood turning cold. “Philippa Eilhart?”

Dandy drew back in surprise. “You have heard of her?”

“I know her.” I asked her if reincarnation could be possible. I asked her if you could still be alive.

A strange expression flickered over Dandy’s face. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. She talked about you a lot. I always wondered by she kept insisting that should I meet a witcher I should go with him.”

Geralt’s mind was racing, unable to grasp what Dandy was saying.

“She said…that’s why you reacted like that when you found out I was a witcher.” The realisation hit Geralt like a punch, leaving him breathless. “When I told you who I was, you said you needed to think, but you didn’t hesitate to ask me to come back.”

Dandy scooted closer again. “I did. But, Geralt, believe me, I didn’t just ask you to come back because Philippa had told me to. I mean, that was a part of it, sure, but I also wanted to get to know you. And I’m glad I did.”

“I-yeah. I’m glad too.” His thumb caressed Dandy’s knuckles, a soft, soothing motion that was more for Geralt’s benefit than Dandy’s. There was too much to think about, too much he didn’t understand. How long had Philippa known that Geralt’s theory of the reincarnation had been true? And why had she agreed to tutor Dandy without telling anyone who he was?

Knowing that the sorceress had a hand in Dandy’s life, perhaps even orchestrating the way his life would go, left Geralt with a sense of unease. Especially since it was Philippa. The sorceress had never done him any intentional harm, but not once in the long time they have known each other, had she been open about her goals, always playing a different game than anybody else.

“Geralt?” Dandy asked tentatively, when Geralt had been quiet for too long.

Geralt forced himself to snap out of his crushing thoughts and put as much teasing as he could in his voice as he said, “I just have one more question. Why Dandy? Out of all the new names you could have chosen for yourself, why this?”

Dandy let out a bark of laughter, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder. “I know. It’s a terrible name. In my defence, I didn’t exactly come up with it myself. Technically.”

Geralt chuckled. “It’s not a terrible name. I think it suits you.”

Dandy poked a finger in Geralt’s side with a little growl. “Don’t let Mika hear you say that or I’ll never get to hear the end of it.”

Geralt gave a questioning grunt to which Dandy replied with an overly dramatic sigh.

“You see, when I joined the troupe, I wanted to give myself a stage name.”

“Naturally.”

“Exactly! Good to know we’re on the same page.” Dandy stopped poking Geralt, instead sprawling his fingers across Geralt’s side. “I wanted to call myself Dandelion. You know, sort of as a little wink to my given name. Dande-Leon, as it were.”

Geralt didn’t even try to supress the snort. “That’s a terrible pun.”

“Ah the others agree with you there. No one appreciates my remarkable wit and humour.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “They kept teasing me about being all posh and a dandy when I first joined and somehow that name stuck. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how indignant I was when they started calling me Dandy, but…it was also nice. I’ve never really had friends that would tease me before. Maybe it was because no one wanted to piss off a baron or maybe they thought they needed to be extra careful with me because I’m blind. But the way the troupe talks to me and teases me…it makes me feel like I really, truly belonge.” He nuzzled closer into Geralt and Geralt wasn’t sure if he imagined the stifled sniffle. “And to be fair, Dandelion probably wouldn’t have been the best name.”

“I think it would be a fitting name,” Geralt said softly, stroking Dandy’s hair soothingly. “It’s always the yellow flowers with you, isn’t it?”

The words escaped him without thinking. Dandy’s brows furrowed in confusion, but then he snorted.

“I wouldn’t know about that, now, would I?” He tightened his hold on Geralt.

Geralt hummed in contemplation. “It still fits. My friend always used to wish on Dandelions. Just small things that would come true anyway. ‘I wish for the next performance to go well.’ Or ‘I wish that Roach will start recognising me as a friend and stop trying to bite my fingers.’”

Dandy’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Those sound like great wishes. Did they come true?”

“Hmm. He always said they did. But I am pretty sure he just snuck Roach treats behind my back until she started liking him.”

“Sounds like a wise man. If Roach didn’t already love me, I might have tried the same thing. But why would Dandelion be fitting for me then?”

“Because being here with you is everything I could have wished for.”

“You did it!” Dandy beamed with pride. “You read your first play!”

Geralt grunted, but Dandy’s joy was contagious. “With a lot of corrections and help from you. And it was a short play.”

“So?” Dandy nudged Geralt with his shoulder. “You still did it. I can’t believe you really learned to read like that for me.”

“It’s important to you.”

“It is,” Dandy agreed softly, before a sly grin spread over his face. “Now that you’re able to read my scripts, you will be able to learn the lines for your first role.” Mirth brightening his voice and he twirled his cane in excitement.

Geralt made a noise not unlike a startled horse. “My role? I don’t think so.”

“Ah, but my dearest Geralt,” Dandy drawled his name and leaned forward with a shit eating grin. “You promised me you’d play with me if I joined your lessons.” That cheeky bastard.

“I meant the lute.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I don’t have a lute.” He nudged Geralt playfully. “Now come on. I’d love to see you act.”

Geralt put up some more token resistance, but he still joined one mock-rehearsal the players put on, all of them cheering for Geralt to join them and read the lines of the witcher-character.

He felt ridiculous, trying to mimic the actors’ dramatic gestures and way of speaking. It hadn’t taken long until everyone agreed to never have Geralt act on an actual stage, but between his laughter, Dandy assured Geralt, that that was the funniest performance Dandy had ever had the pleasure to listen to.

From then on, the only times that Geralt read lines and tried his hand at acting, was when he helped Dandy practice his own lines by reading the other parts.

Geralt closed his eyes and hummed softly, as Dandy played with his hair.

It was a peaceful moment. Had anyone told Geralt a couple of months ago that he would get to have such moments again, he would have laughed in their face.

And yet, here he was, with Dandy, the man he fell in love with more with each day they spent together. Every morning when he woke up holding Dandy close, his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Every time, Dandy laughed at Geralt reading his lines, Geralt wanted to taste that laugh with a kiss. Every time Geralt practiced reading the script Dandy had taught him and Dandy squeezed his shoulder with pride, the words ‘I love you’ burned on Geralt’s lips, begging to be spoken. He thought maybe, Dandy already knew.

It was moments like these, that Geralt was sure that he knew Dandy felt the same way, telling him with each touch he gifted Geralt and each word spoken softly between them.

It felt simultaneously strange, so familiar and right, lying with his head in Dandy’s lap, as if he belonged there.

The soft tug on his hair was soothing and nearly enough to lull him to sleep, but Geralt fought his heavy eyelids, unwilling to let this moment be taken away from him by sleep.

Softly, Dandy hummed the melody of the lullaby Geralt had taught him. It was a little off, since Geralt himself hadn’t been able to sing it right, but the melody was just as tender and tearing at his heart as it always had been.

Eventually, the song faded.

“What’s on your mind?” Dandy asked quietly, his fingers never stopping.

Geralt hummed quietly. “Who says that something’s on my mind?”

“There always is.” Dandy’s voice was full of fondness.

“Thinking about you.”

“A very good thing to think about,” Dandy teased and he tugged lightly on Geralt’s hair for emphasis.

Geralt didn’t know if it was the comforting feeling of Dandy touching him or the tone of his voice that loosened Geralt’s tongue and make him ask the question that had been burning at the back of his mind for months.

“Where did you get the inspiration for that play? The one about the pirate?”

Dandy’s hands stilled.

Months ago, Geralt would have begged him silently, please, remember me. Please remember that you loved me.

Now though, that voice inside his head was quiet. Geralt awaited Dandy’s answer with mere curiosity and not that desperation from before. Dandy didn’t need to remember his former feelings for him. It was enough that he was trusting Geralt and holding him dear enough to lie with him as they did now. Even if it turned out that it wasn’t what it had been before, it wouldn’t be any less perfect for it.

“I don’t know,” Dandy said finally. “It just came to me. Sometimes you just start writing and have no control over what comes out and it just felt right, writing that.”

Strangely, Geralt’s heart didn’t sink at that admission. Instead, he gave an acknowledging hum.

“Inspiration is a strange thing,” Geralt repeated what he had said once before, decades ago, when Jaskier had tried to explain to him why exactly it was so inspiring about watching Geralt fight.

Dandy let out a quiet laugh and resumed his ministrations.

“It sure is. And lately, I’ve found that I am chockfull of inspiration.”

Celebrating Belleteyn with the troupe was even more opulent than the festivities Jaskier had always dragged him too. And yet, it was nothing compared to the celebration that came about a week later.

The players pulled all the stops to make Dandy’s birthday truly unforgettable. With food, music and wine to spare, it would have been hard to believe that they were not-so-humble actors instead of nobles, if it weren’t for their total disregard of manners as they celebrated.

Dandy was blossoming in the attention like a flower in the sun. He was filled with so much palpable happiness that Geralt didn’t have the heart to refuse when Dandy grabbed his hand and asked him for a dance. It wasn’t one of those complicated danced with far too many steps to remember, that Jaskier had loved so much. It was but two people swaying in place, holding each other close. Geralt wasn’t sure if Dandy had chosen this dance because learning the steps to any of the elaborate dances was exhausting work for him, or because he liked holding Geralt close just as much as Geralt loved being near him.

That feeling in his chest was warm and fuzzy while they swayed and when Dandy rested his head against Geralt’s chest, he was sure he must hear his heart fluttering. Dandy’s hands on Geralt’s shoulders wandered a bit, playing with his hair and Geralt’s hands on his waist twitched in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

They slowed until they were barely moving anymore. Geralt couldn’t tell which one of them brought the dance to a halt first. All he could focus on was Dandy’s closeness.

Ever so slowly, Dandy lifted his head off Geralt’s chest, one of the hands leaving their place on Geralt’s shoulders and wandering up to cup Geralt’s cheeks.

Geralt leaned into the touch, like a drowning man leaning onto a piece of wood to keep him afloat. In this moment, he knew Dandy’s touch was the only thing keeping him from drifting away, from drowning in the miserable life he had led before Dandy.

“Geralt,” On Dandy’s lips, his name sounded almost like a plea, like a whisper of awe. “Thank you. For being here with me.”

“No place I’d rather be.” He had never meant anything more in his life. A soft smile spread across his lips. “My Dandelion.”

A small gasp escaped Dandy. His hand slowly trailed down until his thumb brushed against the corner of Geralt’s lips.

It wasn’t enough. Geralt wanted more, more, everything. He wanted Dandy. He wanted him to know that he was everything to Geralt.

Had their faces always been that close or had one of them moved closer?

Geralt’s heart sped up when Dandy tilted his head up a little. He was so close. All Geralt had to do was lean forward and capture Dandy’s lips in his.

“Geralt.” This time there was no mistaking that it was a plea.

They were so close that their breaths mingled. Geralt leaned forward and –

He froze, just before their lips could touch. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not like this, with Dandy trusting him so openly to not even have his cane with him, just Geralt to guide him. But he couldn’t trust Geralt. Not when he lied and kept secrets and pretended that they were nothing more than two men who had found each other out of pure chance when there was something so much bigger and more terrible going on.

He pulled back and pretended that his heart didn’t shatter when Dandy’s face fell.

“I think we should join the others again,” Geralt said, his voice rough. “I’m sure Kara is sick of playing that slow song by now.”

“Oh,” Dandy said, his lips pressed into a thin smile that couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Yeah. You’re right. Still got a birthday to celebrate.”

Geralt led Dandy the few steps back from the makeshift dancefloor to the other players.

It shouldn’t have hurt when Dandy let go of Geralt and grabbed his cane again. The ache in Geralt’s chest dulled to a numb throb as Mika whisked Dandy away and brought back the smile that Geralt had stolen from Dandy.

Seeing Dandy happy again – singing and joking with his friends, letting them show him how much he meant to them – was beautiful, but Geralt couldn’t keep dark thoughts from creeping up at him.

He did his best not to let them show, to put cheer into his voice or not speak at all when it became too much, but Dandy noticed anyway. Of course he did.

Dandy didn’t mention it in front of the others, but he did take Geralt’s hand in his, holding it tightly and running his thumb over Geralt’s knuckles in a comforting gesture that soothed Geralt’s whirling thoughts, even though it wasn’t enough to fully keep them at bay.

“Do you want to get away for a while?” Dandy whispered, while Mika and Kara challenged each other to a drinking contest under the shouts and hollers of the others. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just don’t want you to feel bad.”

Geralt’s throat grew tight. “I don’t want to ruin this for you. This celebration is yours, you should enjoy it.”

“I’d enjoy it much more if I knew you were comfortable too.” Dandy squeezed his hand. “It’s fine if this is all a bit too much for you. I don’t mind going somewhere quieter. You know I love being alone with you just as much as I do being the centre of attention.”

“It’s not- it’s not that. It being too loud and too much. I-“ His voice broke off. He couldn’t say it. Not here, not while his friends were cheerful and happy.

Dandy let him take his time but Geralt could read the burning question on Dandy’s face. If it’s not too loud and too much, am I the reason why you’re miserable?

When Geralt didn’t continue, he tugged lightly at his hand. Geralt followed without any resistance, as he always would.

They didn’t walk far, simply putting some distance between the celebrating actors and themselves. They were still close enough to hear the cheering and singing, but it became background noise, same as the wind in the trees or the birds flying up above.

They sat down in the grass, Dandy laying his cane across his lap and pulling Geralt close, until his head leaned against Dandy’s shoulder.

A tremble went through Geralt’s body, as Dandy put an arm around his waist and held him tightly. So often, it was Geralt holding Dandy protectively, whether it was in his sleep or when sitting next to each other while talking. So rarely did Geralt get to feel like he was the protected one, like he didn’t need to carry the weight of the world on his own shoulder. But here Dandy was, offering to share the weight or at least have Geralt tell him just how heavy it was.

And so he did. The words came haltingly, as if a rope around his neck grew tighter with every attempt to speak. Dandy waited patiently for him to gather the courage to share his burden.

When he finally did, it felt both like he could breathe again freely for the first time that day, and as if the words were cutting into his own flesh.

“Today is the anniversary of a…friend’s death.”

Dandy stilled, his only movement came from his free hand plucking out grass nervously.

“Jaskier?” He asked, hesitating.

Geralt blanched. “How do you know that name?”

Dandy’s hand on his waist twitched. “It’s the name you said when you were hurt.” His voice was tight, but soft. “I don’t know if you recognised anything around you, but that’s the name you called out then.” He hesitated. “You say his name in your sleep too sometimes. Did you know that?”

Geralt’s mouth went dry. “I…what?”

A strange smile appeared on Dandy’s lips, too small to be a real one. “Just before you fall asleep. And sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, because you pulled me closer. You always ask me not to leave. And you always call me Jaskier.” The smile was still on his face, but now the stinging scent of salt pierced the air. “He must have been really important to you.”

“He was,” Geralt said quietly. “So are you.”

“But not like him.” Dandy let out a strained laugh that held no humour. “I don’t… I shouldn’t say that. Especially not today. I’m sorry. I should be comforting you. I didn’t mean to…to make it about me.”

“It’s always been about you.” Geralt only realised how his carelessly spoken words must have sounded, when Dandy winced and his hand retreated. Geralt’s hand shot out to stop him from pulling away. “Not like that. It…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Geralt’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not Jaskier who died that day. Not exactly.”

Different expressions flickered over Dandy’s face, as if he couldn’t decide which reaction to settle on. Finally, the uncertainty and confusion won out.

“What do you mean?”

An iron fist enclosed Geralt’s heart, squeezed until he thought he would burst. He couldn’t tell Dandy. He couldn’t put that knowledge, that burden, that pressure on him.

But with every second that Geralt hesitated, something crumbled in Dandy’s expression more and more. Geralt couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on in Dandy’s head, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything good.

Jaskier had sometimes cried in Geralt’s arms, thinking he wasn’t good enough, he was too loud, too much, too annoying for anyone to like him enough to stay with him for more than a night.

Yarrow had sounded so broken when he had asked Geralt to be his friend and then he had died alone.

Dandy was his own person, with his own struggles. And with his own doubts and the doubts of all the lives before pressing down on him. Geralt ruining his birthday, the day that should be a celebration of Dandy and nothing else, must have only made things worse.

The only thing Geralt could do to try and make this right, was tell him the truth and hope he didn’t destroy Dandy’s life with it.

He took a shaky breath.

“There was someone else. His name was Yarrow. He was…” Jaskier. You. “someone I met on Belleteyn.”

“Oh.” Dandy’s brows drew together. “You met during the feast of lovers. Is that what he was to you then?”

“No. I think he could have been. Or maybe we could have just been friends. Anything would have been better than what really happened.” When Geralt broke off, trying to find the right words, Dandy remained quiet, giving him all the time he needed. Time. The one thing Geralt hadn’t had with Yarrow. “We met in prison. I- We were both alone. He asked me to be his friend. I gave him some light and – I said we weren’t friends.”

Dandy’s breath hitched.

“Geralt,” he said slowly, a palpable tension in his voice. His body was rigid, not daring to move a single muscle. “You asked me about my first play. Geralt, why did you ask me about that play?”

Geralt closed his eyes, focussing all of his attention on Dandy’s hand in his, praying it wouldn’t be the last time that he would get to hold it, knowing that there was little chance Dandy wouldn’t tear it away when he knew what Geralt had hidden from him all this time.

“Because Yarrow and I were friends. In a different life.” His smile turned bitter as he quoted the final line of the play. “Long before I ever met Yarrow – lifetimes before – I was friends with Jaskier.”

“Friends?”

Geralt winced. “First and foremost friends. But also so much more.” His voice broke and he was sure Dandy could feel the tremor of his hand. “And when he died… I couldn’t let go of him. Somehow he came back to me, only the gods know why. He wasn’t the same, but he was. Yarrow wasn’t a bard. He was an artist. But he was Jaskier.”

When he opened his eyes again and glanced at Dandy, afraid what he would find, he saw Dandy’s lips tremble. “Geralt. Why did you call out Jaskier’s name when you were hurt? It was… it wasn’t just you being delirious, was it.”

“No.” Geralt’s throat grew tight, the noose around his neck becoming tighter with every word and yet, he kept going. “When I woke up, I thought I saw him. It was you, of course, but…”

“But it was also him.” Dandy’s voice was completely void of emotion. “Geralt, you don’t think that I’m Jaskier, do you?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered.

This was it. This was when Dandy would pull away his hand as if burned and tell Geralt to leave.

Instead, Dandy’s hand tightened its hold on Geralt, clutching him almost hard enough to hurt.

“What are you sorry for?” Dandy asked carefully.

Geralt looked away, unable to watch Dandy’s face twist in anger.

“I’m sorry because I couldn’t save them. Jaskier, Yarrow, all the other ones. They…they all died. I could have prevented it, I could have done something, but I didn’t even know who they were and then I saw you and –  I couldn’t let you die. Not again.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated. The hand not held in Geralt grasped his cane so tightly that Geralt could see the white of his knuckles.

“Geralt, please answer this honestly. Why did you agree to stay with me?” He blinked furiously, but the salt smell only got stronger. “Is it just because I look like him? Because a play I wrote was similar to something that happened to you? Because while you’re with me you can imagine that I’m someone else, someone more important to you?”

“Dandy.” The name tasted like a storm on his tongue, waiting to get unleashed. “You are important to me.”

“Then why? If you think I’m Jaskier and you loved him – if I am important to you, why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Because I love you.”

There was no storm. Only the frightening calm, the fear of what was to come, the terror of having already destroyed all there was.

Geralt’s breath came ragged, while Dandy stilled completely.

“I love you,” Geralt repeated, his voice breaking on the last word. “Which is why I can’t kiss you and lie to you.”

“Because... you only love me because I am him?” Dandy looked so small, so helpless.

Geralt closed his eyes, letting his face fall. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of. That you would think that.”

“It’s not the truth then? You didn’t love Jaskier?”

“I did,” Geralt said sincerely. “I always will. I would have loved him in any lifetime. But I also love you. For being you.”

Geralt shifted so that he was no longer sitting next to Dandy, but facing him.

“I love watching you go on stage and silence an audience with your performance. I love listening to you sing with your friends, as if music was more beautiful to you when shared. I love that you still hum that lullaby for me all on your own, even if you still get the melody wrong.” His voice became thick with emotion, but he couldn’t let himself stop. Not before Dandy knew it all. If he still decided to leave then, at least he would know what Geralt saw when he looked at him. “I love that you fiddle with your cane when you’re nervous or content. I love that you wear ridiculous hats and curl your hair. Jaskier did none of those things. And I love them still, because they are a part of who you are, my Dandelion.”

He prayed Dandy would still be his after this. His friend, if nothing else. Because no matter what, Geralt would always be Dandy’s.

Hesitantly, his free hand came up to Dandy’s face, hovering just above it, close enough that Dandy would be able to feel its heat. For a terrifying moment, Geralt thought Dandy would jerk away, but then he leaned into the touch, turning his head just enough to press a kiss against Geralt’s palm.

“Dandelion…” The name was naught but a breath on Geralt’s lips. A breath like the one a drowning man sucked in when he realised that he was saved.

“Are you sure?” Dandy asked softly.

“That I love you? I have never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“That I’m Jaskier. I- please, Geralt, I need to know that you are absolutely certain.”

“I am. I’m sorry.” Even while he said it, he could see Dandy think of every interaction they ever had, viewing it all in a new light. Dandy’s lips parted and Geralt could practically see the pieces of Dandy’s life slot into place, creating the same picture Geralt had seen since he had met him.

Philippa telling Jaskier to go with Geralt, should he ever meet him. The inexplicable burst of inspiration that had driven him to write his first play. The nearly immediate trust he had put in Geralt. The rhythm he sometimes tapped out and that Geralt just so happened to recognise.

Perhaps there were more puzzle pieces that Geralt had never seen. Strange memories that Dandy had never shared with him but that made more sense now than they ever had.

Whatever details of his life Dandy was thinking about, Geralt could see the moment the uncertainty changed into total conviction. For some reason Geralt couldn’t dare explain, Dandy didn’t draw back, didn’t yell at him, didn’t push him away. Instead, something soft and warm spread across his face; the sun breaking through the stormclouds.

“And you love me.”

“With all my heart.”

“And when I die, I will come back to you again?”

Geralt’s insides went cold. “Dandy, don’t- I’m not going to let you die.“

Dandy’s quiet laugh interrupted him. “That’s sweet, but I’m afraid it’s inevitable. Just, tell me. Will I come back?”

A muscle twitched in Geralt’s jaw. “I think so. I’m sorry, I don’t know why or how, but somehow we are bound to each other. You always come back and sooner or later I find you.”

“That’s good. I would hate for the man I love to be alone again.”

“Dandy –“

He never got to finish what he was going to say, for Dandy let go of the cane, finding the back of Geralt’s neck again and bringing him closer to him.

Their first kiss was little more than a tentative brush of lips against each other, Dandy searching him and Geralt not quite believing what was happening, not yet understanding that he could have this.

Dandy pulled back again, just enough to be able to speak. “Geralt? Just to make this clear, I love you too. I love that you saw me at my most vulnerable but you still don’t think that I need help in everything I do. I love that you are a terrible storyteller and an even worse actor. I love that you tell me of your contracts and help me with rehearsals even so. I love the way your scars feel beneath my fingers and I love the way you don’t let me go in the mornings, even when you wake up first.” He drew in a breath and pressed their foreheads together. “I love that you can love me for me.”

Geralt let out a wet laugh, unable to blink back the burning in his eyes or fight down the tightness in his chest.

“You just had to make a better declaration of love than I did,” he said, too full of emotion to even attempt a teasing tone.

“Of course.” Dandy darted forward, stealing another kiss that felt more like a gift. “You know I can’t let a chance to be dramatic pass by.”

Geralt hummed, his hands tracing Dandy’s face, his thumb caressing his bottom lip.

“And that’s another thing I love about you.”

“Careful,” Dandy said teasingly, pressing a kiss against Geralt’s thumb. “If you keep making such dramatic declarations yourself, I might consider putting you on stage again in the role of a lover.”

“The point of theatre is that it isn’t real,” Geralt repeated Dandy’s favourite opinion. “This is real.”

Dandy surged forward, pressing a sweet kiss against Geralt’s lips.

“It’s better than any play I could ever write.”

[adarlingsnightmare]

Mikaela Hyakuya Yandere Alphabet

Anonymous said:

Can I ask for Yandere Alphabet for Mika?

I have more hcs for Mika that I might write, such as ones going along the lines of the main ons storyline so lmk if you wanna see those. 

A- Attribute: What brought on this side of them? What made them suddenly click?

Losing his family made Mika realise how easily everything could be taken from him, so when he started to develop feelings for you, his paranoia spiked more and more until he couldn't resist taking extreme measures to "protect" you.

B- Blood- If they're extreme how messy are they willing to get?

Anyone who Mika believes is a risk to your safety will be killed instantly, he doesn't care how messy it is as long as they're no longer a threat. Although, if someone were to actually hurt you (or even flirt because Mika sees that as a threat) they would be guaranteed a slow, brutal death.

C- Cope - Do they try to deal with this jealousy sooner so they don't lash out?

Mika tries to keep to just sending death glares for your sake, he really does, but that paranoid voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him that you're going to leave him and get stolen away.

D-Death, Do they feel any sorrow for their victims at all?

Of course not, those disgusting people were going to hurt his precious darling, in Mika's eyes they deserve their fate.

E- Earnest, Are they intense?

Mika's pretty calm as long as you stay near him and follow his safety rules, though he does have a rather intense stare. You'll often feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

F-Fight, How would they feel if you fought back against them?

Mika would be distraught. All he's trying to do is protect you, but you're fighting against him? You want to be in danger? Do you hate him?

G- Game: How much do they enjoy watching you run and have a fearful expression?

He doesn't like it at all. All he wants is for you to be happy and safe, so seeing you afraid would make him upset.

H- Hell: What would be your worst experience with them?

Honestly, Mika's actually pretty tame towards you, so the worst thing would be the complete isolation from friends and family.

I- Iron: How emotionally stable would you be throughout the events that unfold?

Depends on you as a person, but unlike some other yanderes, Mika isn't as mentally damaging to be with. That's not to say being shut off from society and loved ones wouldn't take a toll on your mental state.

J- Jet- How fast would it happen for them to go yandere?

Honestly, the second he realises he has feelings for you, his paranoid and protective tendencies will be triggered.

K- Kill- Would they hurt anyone to get to you?

Of course! If Mika even caught a hint that someone could take you away or hurt you, they'd be dead in seconds.

L-Lonely, How much loneliness would they feel if you two were apart?

Mika would be depressed, but also extremely worried about how you were doing. He would be desperate to see you and make the anxieties plaguing him calm down by ensuring you were safe.

M- Might: How aggressive would they be towards you?

He may sometimes call you an idiot if you do something stupid and get annoyed at you, but that's the most he will do in terms of getting aggressive. He wants to protect you, not hurt you.

N- Next: Would they ever move on after you?

Potentially. He would be absolutely shattered beyond repair if you died, so if someone miraculously managed to get past his walls and befriend him, he'd be even worse than he was with you. They wouldn't leave his sight and would most likely be trapped inside a single room. There is also a potential for him to become delusional and believe this new darling is you, calling them by your name and dressing them up in your clothes, regardless of gender. Count yourself lucky you're his first darling.

O- Oppression- How many rights would they take away from you?

Mainly the freedom of being allowed to be alone and do whatever you want more than anything. Mika is paranoid you'll get hurt so he's alway restricting what you can and can't do. However, he's not the worst to get stuck with, he may sound overbearing but as long as you stay by his side and don't touch any sharp objects, he's pretty laid back.

P- Prize: Would they consider this a game?

Game? Not at all. Mika is just protecting the person he loves which he certainly doesn't consider a game, more of a duty.

Q- Quality: Would they to be secretive or be flashy about what they do?

Mika pretty much hates everyone except for you so... you won't really be seen by others anyway. It's also important to remember that Mika doesn't know he's a yandere, he just thinks he's being a good boyfriend and protecting his s/o from the horrible outside world.

R- Rain: Would they keep you trapped inside forever?

No, if you wanted to go for a walk somewhere or see something, Mika would take you out, but you generally spend your time inside (it's not like you have any friends to talk to anyway).

S- Stalker: Would they stalk you? How intense would it go?

Oh, he'd definitely stalk you. Especially if you were hanging around with friends, he has to make sure they aren't going to harm you. Don't worry though, it won't be long until Mika straight up kidnaps you, so the stalking won't last long.

T-Turmoil, Would they force you to team up with them?

No, Mika doesn't want you to be hurt so he would never try and make you team up with him.

U-Usage, Would they use you to get what they desire?

Absolutely not! Mika loves you entirely and would never even consider using you for anything.

V- Version: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Hmm, not really? Even if he doesn't kidnap you (i.e you two were in a relationship beforehand) he will still keep you isolated from the world.

W-Wild Card, a random yandere headcannon.

Mika is rather delusional and in denial, so even if you were a really nasty person, he would still see you as a precious angel. He is also somewhat easy to manipulate, mainly because he'll freak out and do anything to stop you hurting yourself, so self-harm and suicide threats are the easiest way to get him to do something (since he doesn't require your love as long as you're safe).

X- Xenophobia: How much would they get angry from their jealousy?

He'd be more worried than angry, but he doesn't trust other people, so he is prone to getting irritated if anyone is talking to you.

Y- Yander: How many crimes would they commit?

However many it takes to keep you safe.

[be-dazzled]

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive language and content 

You got that thing that I been looking for Been running around for so long Now I caught you, I won't let you go Just say you feel the way that I feel I'm feeling…

–       Sexual, Neiked

The sun was already so up high when Gray woke from his deep slumber. He stretched his arms out and cracked his neck side to side. A yawn stretched his mouth and his eyes still needed some opening. Gray felt like he went for swimming lapses last night. And then more. Who knew pouring your heart out could be that exhausting? Emotions are too overwhelming but Gray had no regrets. A satisfied smile played on his lips, forcing him to get out of bed and seek that beautiful blue-haired he suddenly missed.

Gray dragged his feet to his closet, found himself a dark grey tee and shoved his arms into the sleeve holes. Hoopster knocked on Juvia’s door first, careful not to wake the woman up in case she was still sleeping in. When no one answered, he tried the doorknob, twisting the polished nob to open. It seemed like Juvia wasn’t one to lock her door, which was okay, since she was staying at the safety of the Mine Mansion. Gray slowly pushed the door open, calling her name in case she wasn’t decent, which he also wouldn’t mind to be honest. Unfortunately, the bed was already made and there was no ‘still dressing’ Juvia inside. Gray hurried to the dining where he heard the utensils clattering. It turned out to be a disappointment, and he didn’t even try to hide it, only seeing his mother and a few of the helps arranging the table.

“Hey mom,” Gray walked into the dining room, reduced into hugging the back of the tall chair when all he wanted was his bluenette within his arms. “Has Juvia come down yet?” He looked around, a pout audible from his voice, but still no blue-haired beauty.

“Wow, not even a good morning, huh?” Mika remarked, not taking her eyes off the spoons and forks she was arranging, to address her son.

“Sorry.”

Mika Mine waited for a few louder impatient breaths from her ill-mannered son, just to test his patience and to teach him a lesson. Mika placed the toasted garlic bread she bought from the market on the table. Only raised her gaze to finally look at her son after thanking one of the helpers.

“I heard she’s at your fath–at the basketball court.”

Gray, realizing his first mistake, threw his arms around his mother and planted a quick peck on her cheek. “Thank you.” Then, he disappeared from his mother’s sight.

Gray hurriedly made his way to the old basketball court, not even stopping to just see and smell the roses. He skidded to a stop at the end of the pathway and quickly spot Juvia’s figure a few feet away from the ring tower. Looking closer, Gray was surprised, but definitely not disappointed, at the ballerina who was dribbling a ball between two hands before attempting a shot.

“Morning exercise?”

Juvia was just coming to pick up the ball that bounced off the ground. She whipped her head at his direction, her long ponytail flying out behind.

“Oh, Gray!” She acknowledged. “Good morning.”

Her bright smile was so contagious that Gray found himself smiling back at her. As soon as he was inside the rectangle, seeing his girlfriend closer, that responsive smile quickly dropped. His thick brows met in a frown, nose crinkling in slight dismay.

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, this? Your mother got it for me.” Juvia answered, resting the ball at the side of her hip and returning to the free-throw line. “She invited me to go to the central market.”

“That’s good. You guys are bonding.” Gray walked up to her, hands planted on his waist, dark eyes narrowing at that long wicking polyester fabric hanging on his girlfriend’s shoulders. “But what are you wearing?”

“A jersey.” Juvia answered, tone implying that it should have been obvious. “Fiore Knights Jersey, to be exact.” She attempted a second shot and the ball went in perfectly. Juvia was about to run after the bouncing ball but Gray beat her to it.

“I can see that...” Gray sounded like he was about to say something more, purposely leaving his statement hanging. He dribbled the ball thrice before executing a right lay-up.

“I look good in it, don’t I? The girl from the stall said it’s an ‘Isvan Must-Have’.”

Juvia spun around to present herself to Gray. The boyfriend had to admit, there was something about his girlfriend wearing that basketball uniform, which he loved and greatly respected, that made those butterflies in his stomach flutter. Even if the jersey was too big for Juvia’s slender figure. Gray rested the ball against his hip and walked up to Juvia, who was enjoying her Fiore Knights uniform and that long ponytail at the back of her head.

“It’s cute.”

Gray stopped in front of Juvia, staring her up and down. Juvia could feel his dark eyes undressing her of that jersey.

“But you got the wrong number, sweetie.”

Juvia bit her lip in no surprise. It seemed like she knew exactly whose jersey number it was. Yet, she still wore the same. With a stubborn smile she told him, “It’s all they have.” Juvia snatched the ball from him and pushed past Gray, who still had one brow cocked up. “Apparently, yours sell like hotcakes.” Her ball hit the rim and ricocheted.

“Well, missy. I don’t like it when my girlfriend is wearing someone else’s number.” Gray followed the ballerina to the left side of the ring, catching her by surprise as she tried her luck shooting the ball on the side. “Take it off.”

“What?!”

Gray played with the hem where the sleeve was supposed to be, tugging on it. “I said take it off.”

Juvia just stared at him like he was crazy, which she sure Gray was apparently, demanding from her to take the jersey off. “Here?”

“Yes.” Gray answered in a tone that said it should have been obvious.

“I’m not gonna take my shirt in the middle of this court, Gray.” She rolled her eyes at him. Really? They may have been in the comfort of the Mine’s private compound but that didn’t mean Juvia would just freely flaunt herself in that open space. Who knew if someone was watching them through a telescope? Or drone? Or something?

“Wanna play for it?” Gray wasn’t going to drop the subject that easily.

Juvia faced her absolutely shameless boyfriend, her jaw dropping at his audacity. He wasn’t being serious, was he? Because that would be totally absurd. But she asked again, just in case.

“What?”

“If you beat me, you get to keep that stupid jersey. But if I win, you need to take it off.” Juvia would have cracked up, ROFLed, you know, rolled on the floor laughing, if not for that seriousness in Gray’s expression. And to prove he meant business, one corner of his mouth lifted in a challenging grin. “Here.”

Totally. Absurd. She wasn’t really considering it, was she?

“That would be really unfair for me. You’re a professional player–”

“–Basketball god, some would say.” Gray cocked a brow, as he snatched the ball in Juvia’s hands, to prove a point. “No rules. First to reach ten points win.” He tried to sell it but Juvia still looked skeptical. She was at the losing end going up against a three-time MVP. “I’ll even let you have a head-start.” Gray returned the ball to Juvia. While the ballerina accepted it, her guarded eyes remained skeptical about Gray’s terms, eyeing the man as if anytime he’d attack her. She considered the slight possibility that Gray might let her win, if his ego would allow. When she walked a little distance away from him and near the net, Gray just crossed his arms against his chest and watched her score two points. He didn’t move even after that and just waited for Juvia’s other shot.

“That’s four points all in all. I guess that’s enough head-start.”

Like a predator stalking his prey, Gray slowly approached Juvia while the noticeably nervous ballerina still held the ball in her hands. The Team Captain of one of Fiore’s best basketball teams and three-time MVP feigned offense, pretending to suddenly approach her and steal the ball. Juvia jerked back with the ball in hand.

“Quick reflexes, Lockser.”

Gray quickly cornered Juvia, raising his arms on the side guarding the ballerina, who dribbled the ball in front of her but had her back on Gray. She’d hit her back against Gray’s front when he tried to dig.

“Not today, Fullbuster.”

Juvia faked a right turn and eventually shook him away. Gray didn’t take offense from that little trick. He was too amused and proud of that unexpected bluff that won Juvia another two points.

Juvia threw her hands in the air and did a little dance before shoving the ball to Gray. “Keep up, Captain.” It sounded more like a snide name-calling rather than the respectable title it was supposed to be.

“Don’t be so cocky.”

And before Juvia could even react, Gray was already near the ring with his first two points under his belt. Of course, he didn’t let the victory slide. Juvia was again in possession of the ball but she lost it in her hands before she could even blink. Gray shot the stolen ball from outside the three-point line, reminding Juvia why he was the best pointer of last season.

“You are taking this too seriously.”

“Well, I seriously hate that shirt.”

When Gray was rearing towards the net and had Juvia shuffling along with him as she had her hands in defense, the sly ballerina had the greatest idea of kissing him on the cheek, startling Gray and rooting him on the spot.

“That’s eight points in total.”

“So that’s how you want to play the game, huh?”

“Hey,” Juvia threw him the ball and resumed her position as his guard, “you’re the one who said there are no rules.”

“Alright.” He said. Gray wasn’t mad about it or anything. He bounced the ball twice and taunted the ballerina by holding the ball at arm’s length. When Juvia tried to snatch it, Gray jerked his arm away quickly. The couple stayed on the three-point line as Juvia grabbed for the ball that Gray kept above his head, out of her reach. His height played a good part while Juvia was the one who had to tiptoe, sometimes leaning on Gray for support. Hoopster seized the opportunity and stole a kiss from Juvia before throwing in his second three-point shot.

“I guess that’s a tie.”

The game ended with a rare dunk shot from Gray and a score of 8 vs 10, in favor of the boyfriend.

“Not bad, Lockser.” Gray leaned on the ring tower, planting his palm flatly against the side of the pole, taking a shade from the morning sun. He wiped the sweat that wet his forehead with the back of his arm. “Now, time for your punishment.”

“No. It’s not.” Juvia rested one hand on her hips in a defiant manner. She didn’t sound as firm as she was when Gray first suggested the punishment.

“Be a sport, Juvia. Now, take off that jersey.”

Juvia gave him a look, contemplating her options. “Fine.” She dropped her hand on the side and tugged at the hem of her large jersey. “Like this?”

Gray couldn’t believe that Juvia was actually going through with it. Yes, he said he’d be firm with her when he was to demand his reward/her punishment but now that it came to this… he wasn’t complaining but as the bottom of the cloth lifted upwards, his heart was racing – and not because of that brief one-on-one basketball they just had – but because of that teasing twinkle in her eyes that got Gray a little nervous and honestly, turned on.

“Higher.” Gray heard himself order, which was a miracle considering it was a struggle to breathe.

Juvia suddenly became very obedient. She lifted the edge of the shirt higher, revealing white, smooth skin beneath as her knuckles brushed past the band of her shorts and against her stomach.

And Gray… well, his hand mysteriously slipped off the shaft he was leaning on for support and almost fell on the ground, face first. The triumphant smile slowly dropped and he could feel his blood rushing to that one part of his body as he continued to watch the fabric slide past her belly button and further up her slim ribs.

“Higher?”

The only response he could muster was a breathy ‘yeah’ or a low groan. Juvia wasn’t sure, neither was Gray. But the ballerina got the point, just staring at his expression: eyes wide open and lips slightly apart.

The band of her pink lace bra made a peek.

He held his breath as the shirt pulled up a few inches above the band, teasing the lace that cupped the bottoms of her breasts. Just a little more, he thought. Just a little more…

“There you are!”

Juvia pulled her shirt down swiftly.

NOOOOO!

His mother’s voice sounded like nails against a chalkboard – freakishly annoying and hellishly frustrating.

Mika didn’t bother to come down the court and stayed at the pathway. “C’mon! Breakfast is ready.” She started back to the house and turned around again to remind them, “You two change first. Gray, put on a fresh shirt.”

“I know!” Gray was obviously irritated.

“Come here. I’ll wipe your face with this towel–”

“–Mom!” Hoopster whined, throwing his mother a deadly look. If she didn’t get the hint then he just had to shoo her away, “We’ll be right behind you.” And he was glad she didn’t insist on that face-wipe because: one, he wasn’t a child; and two, he would have died right there and then if Mika Mine found out what his girlfriend’s strip tease did to her son’s body.

And Juvia… she just gave him that guilty look. They laughed it off like a bad joke but Gray almost died in suspense.

---

Gray knew that the stay at the mansion wasn’t going to last long. Later this afternoon, they had to drive back to the city and deal with the daily grind on Monday. Back to regular programming. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy breakfast with his family, his team and his girlfriend. Gray glanced at Juvia who was seated beside him. He didn’t notice he was already glaring at her cute tight t-shirt until Loke flagrantly pointed it out. He was then forced to spend the rest of the morning trying not to think about that strip tease his girlfriend did for him, which proved to be a real struggle because he spent the rest of breakfast thinking when she could get to finish the show.

Man, Gray didn’t even know she had it in her.

After breakfast, Mika pulled him by the corner asking about his plans for his birthday. Gray could sense she wanted to ask for another day to stay and celebrate it together. He reasoned he had commitments in the city. She didn’t push it but Gray sure did feel guilty. Mothers – always playing the guilt card. And he was sure it was that which prompted him to agree to come back next weekend. After that talk and a few reminders, he wandered around the mansion to look for his girl in that pink statement shirt – Girl Power – and found her leaning against the railing at the veranda. He was about to join her when Gray realized she wasn’t alone. It didn’t sit with him right, having a certain pink-haired Natsu standing in his place. They looked deep in conversation. Of course, there was no reason to be jealous about it. Fiore Knight Members didn’t steal a brother’s girl. That rule was set in stone. But he couldn’t help that bitter taste stirring in the pit of his stomach. The mental image of Juvia in that jersey with Natsu’s number on didn’t help too.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing important.” Natsu quickly answered before he peeled himself off the railing, excused himself from Juvia and walked back into the house.

Gray could tell he was trying to act like it was nothing. But it was too casual to be nothing. He threw him a side glance when his Vice Captain passed him by with that forced, toothy smile. The sound of heels tapping on the marble floor pulled his attention back to the woman coming to meet him. Gray abandoned the thought for a moment. He’ll get to the bottom of that later. For now, having Juvia alone in the veranda kicked that mystery off of the priority list.

Gray met Juvia halfway. His hands automatically wrapped themselves around her waist while the ballerina snaked one arm around his neck. The other poked a finger where his furrowed brows met.

“What’s with that frown?”

Gray didn’t answer. He obviously wasn’t going to admit to anything.

“Oh, I get it.” Juvia pulled him closer, if that was even possible, and brushed the tip of her nose against his. “Is my boyfriend jealous?”

Gray snorted. “No.” He tightened his arms around her body and stole a peck on the lips. “Just a little disappointed I didn’t get to see the rest of your strip show.”

“Oh, that.”

A small flame caused by the memory powdered Juvia’s cheeks rosy.

“When will you get to finish it?”

“Not anytime soon. That’s for sure.” answered Juvia before pressing an innocent kiss on Gray’s lips.

Gray mumbled something. Then, getting tired of all that ‘child kiss’, he didn’t let Juvia speak another word, saddled up and kissed his girlfriend like a real man – with tongue.

---

Gray placed their bags at the backseat of his Lamborghini. He still cocked a brow at that sequined leopard duffle. But that was just a distraction. In all honesty, Hoopster was still very much bothered by Natsu and Juvia’s sudden closeness. He wasn’t a jealous type. Not to anyone and especially not with any of his teammates, let alone his best friend. Although, he would never admit that out loud – Natsu being his best friend. They were brothers and they all subscribe to the unwritten Bro Code. Besides, he was happy that the guys liked Juvia – really, really liked her. He didn’t mind them interacting with his girlfriend, encouraged it even. So, why all the mysterious whispers and acting like nothing?

Gray heard his mother’s voice. She was saying something to Juvia, which earned small laughs and giggles from the ballerina. He opted to watch in a safe distance as his parents embraced Juvia and bade goodbye. He, the son, got a wave from afar. He preferred that. Gray wasn’t in the mood to get another hug and pat at the back from the President. Too much unnecessary skinship.

Juvia walked down to Gray’s car, an ear-to-ear smile still plastered on her face.

“Looks like they really like you, huh?”

“Well, I live to please.” She quipped, stopping at the passenger seat’s door.

“Speaking of pleasing, I–”

“–except for that.”

Juvia already knew what he was driving at and no, Juvia would not engage him. His parents were still at the door waving them goodbye for goodness’ sake. And even if the whole thing really did look ridiculous now that she thought back to when Gray’s mother walked in on Juvia stripping… They laughed it off. Still, what would the woman think of her if she actually finished pulling off that jersey? Que horror.

Gray pouted. “No more strip shows?”

Juvia just glared at him. The ballerina swore she wasn’t going to ever do that again – well, at least not in public.

When Gray was about to climb into his car, Juvia raised her open palm at him, asking for the keys to the car instead.

“You want to drive?”

“I know you’re tired so I’m offering.”

Gray shut his door close and leaned over it, mulling over how he was going to play this situation without him receiving the cold-shoulder treatment thereafter. He had been a part of this conversation far too many times not to know it rarely ended well. He never really let anyone drive the Ghini. It’s his baby!

“This is a really expensive car, Juvia.” He said slowly, careful not to strike a chord or else… Female logic was the hardest to read.

“You don’t trust your girlfriend?”

See? In what universe did ‘not letting her drive your car’ read as ‘not trusting her’? The complicated universe of the female brain.

“Juvia…” Gray talked with caution, not wanting to be misinterpreted and to start a fight that early in the relationship.

“Gray…” She kept her hand held out to him, insisting on the keys and taking the same tone he had with her.

Gray steered around his car to walk up next to Juvia, only to whisper his answer so no nosy mother come snooping. Juvia saw his purposeful smile before he leaned in to whisper into her ears, “Only if you finish that strip show, girlfriend.”

But like Gray, Juvia had some trick up her sleeves too. Sensing an upcoming victory, the ballerina played the same naughtiness on her lips. “Really? While your parents are watching?” She challenged. She didn’t even have to wait to get that ugly reaction wrinkling his smug face. Juvia watched him threw a glance behind her; one she was sure was directed at the older man. Because Juvia didn’t spend the week without learning a thing or two.

“Keys?”

Gray withdrew his attention from the old geezer and looked down at the woman who dared… oh, dating smart-asses was such a pain. But he still had one last card to play. He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss on her lips and put up a wide, playing an innocent grin, which earned a serious look from the woman.

“What? I thought you said kiss.” But the glare wasn’t budging. “Although, I have a dictionary in my phone that disagrees with that definition.” Gray seemed to have failed to notice, or rather, chose to ignore the serious look.

But he knew he couldn’t keep up with that show anymore, he got himself a stubborn one. Gray dangled the keys in front of Juvia, which the woman quickly snatched from his hand. He realized then, he just lost and he would keep on losing where this woman was concerned. If he got to steal a few kisses – and a few more real ones too, those which abide by the definition – then he didn’t mind caving in.

And that’s a big commitment coming from the very competitive ‘basketball god’.

---

Gray kept telling her where to go or how to drive, even how slow or slow-er she should go and honestly, he was starting to get on Juvia’s nerves.

“Babe, if you could just sit tight while I drive,” She told him off without taking her eyes away from the road. “that would be really awesome.” Her voice had finality and she didn’t have to throw a glare at him for Gray to know she was serious.

In the end, Gray gave up. If he was in Juvia’s shoes, he’d lash out at that person bossing him around. He settled comfortably in his seat, leaving Ghini’s fate into his girlfriend’s hands. What’s the worst that could happen?

He fell asleep.

Gray was violently woken up by the fact that: one, someone else was driving his Ghini, although that someone was Juvia and he trusted her whole-heartedly, or maybe three-fourth of his heart trusted her, the other one-fourth feeling guilty about betraying the Ghini for letting someone else – who wasn’t him – drive his baby; and two, he shouldn’t be sleeping so peacefully why someone else was driving it! He should have at least kept an eye on that.

“Where are we?!” Gray asked over the loud noise of impatient cars in Magnolia’s heavy traffic.

“Relax. We’re near your place.” She smiled at him, a smile Gray was sure was all about gloating and not the friendly kind.

The Ghini crawled into a neutral and the ballerina on the wheel finally looked at him, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“No.” He answered, inwardly scolding himself for letting Ghini down. Gray sure knew how Julian Lockser felt when his daughter took the Ferrari out for a spin. He’d apologize to his baby later. For now, he’d laid back and get more sleep. “Where are we going anyway?” He absently asked, tired eyes already shut close.

“Home.” Juvia flatly answered.

It forced one shut lid to open, “Yours or mine?” Gray insinuated, the possibility of maybe getting some alone time with Juvia painted a knowing smile on his pulled lips.

“Yours, silly.”

Dark eyes grew wide in shock. Juvia? In his bachelor pad? That could only mean one thing, right? Was he finally getting lai–lucky? From then on, Gray couldn’t seem to keep his eyes closed and his heartbeat steady.

---

Writer’s Corner: Of course I’m not gonna leave you hanging on that drama, right? I gotchu boo! Also, Juvia stripping? Hell yeah! 

tags:  @ship-ambrosia @juviaafullbuster @sasskiiia @anaken101 @mika-milano @icelyn20 @gruviafanficsyo @nay-ssi @shampooneko @hiccstridhumour @shounenmangaotphell @ftmains @sobatsu​ @freeezingrain​ @gruvia-galaxy​ @tinyvoidtrash​ @juvialockseroff​ @jetblackrevival​ @cobblepottantrum @pinkbtr @freedom--seeker @cosmonira @janeto13lover 

[rivalsforlife]

one more ahaha but the cherry blossom scene at the end of catch up game ch 3 because i'm still thinking nonstop about it all the time 👀👉👈

ABSOLUTELY I CAN also for anyone reading this go look at Mika’s art which inspired this scene. It’s the tumblr version so you can reblog it too, which you should do, even if you don’t read my long rambling,

okay once again rambling below...

Traditionally, Larry Butz arrived at any social gathering anywhere from half an hour to three hours later than the time he was told, so all things considered, he was actually early. Phoenix wasted no time informing him of the latest betrayal among their small elementary school friend group.

this is a direct callout to one of my friends from high school, where we started seriously considering telling her that any social event we were planning started an hour earlier than it actually did so that she’d make it there on time. We never did in case this turned out to be the time she actually made it on time, but still.

“Larry, remember that one time we were trying to make that gigantic hopscotch game, and we ran out of chalk?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Edgeworth, who sighed. “It turns out, Edgeworth hid it all along!”

Larry blinked, then shrugged. “Oh yeah, right, that. Well, I kind of had an idea…”

“Wh — You hid this from me too?! D-Death! The death penalty for the both of you!”

“Why does this all sound so familiar,” Edgeworth commented under his breath.

I think this part is mostly there so Larry actually does something because I couldn’t find any real way to fit him into this fic...? Anyways the dialogue there with Phoenix threatening the death penalty on Miles and Larry is pretty much directly lifted from the end of Turnabout Goodbyes, which is why Miles comments on it sounding familiar. 

They continued on in that vein for some time, dredging up old elementary school memories. Phoenix proclaimed to be the only innocent member of that group, before Edgeworth brought up a set of very nice gel pens Phoenix reportedly stole from him. Phoenix and Edgeworth got caught up in their argument, and barely even noticed when Larry wandered away, joining Maggey and Gumshoe at the fishing pond while Franziska critiqued them.

This sort of familiar banter was normal. As Edgeworth teased in that same way he had ever since Phoenix first faced him in court, he had to wonder if he’d just imagined the way Edgeworth had been looking at him during the party. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

Not pictured: Phoenix and Miles leaning in closer to each other as they argue. too close. Larry tries to comment but neither of them hear him. Eventually he just walks away because he’s sick of third-wheeling with these two. It’s my firm belief that if there weren’t the court benches in the way that they need to slam, these two would slowly walk closer and closer to each other as they argue because they. uh. want to “intimidate” each other. that’s why they’re nose to nose like that. the whole courtroom is suddenly very uncomfortable.

Haha anyways also I think these two would pick the dumbest things to argue about all the time? Never seriously arguing, the just like bickering because they don’t know how to hold conversations about their feelings.

“You still haven’t explained exactly what happened to my gel pen set,” Edgeworth accused, as they circled around the argument for the third time.

Phoenix threw his hands up in the air. “I just forgot to return it! I didn’t know you were so bothered by it. You should have brought it up!”

“Back then? You were so sensitive. If I brought up that you might have upset me in the least, you would have burst into tears.”

“I wasn’t that sensitive.”

Edgeworth sighed. “Wright, you cried when I got a question wrong on a spelling test, because you thought I would be sad about it.”

“And you were!” Phoenix retorted. “You cried for like an hour!”

“Because when you started crying, I thought it was something I had to be ashamed of!”

More bickering, pretty much! Also I do think Phoenix cried A Lot and was super sensitive up until the whole Dahlia trial which traumatized him pretty badly... 

Anyways the REAL story behind this incident which I am making up just now is probably that Miles was on the verge of crying because of Getting Something Wrong -- which I totally get, I absolutely almost cried over spelling tests as a baby -- and Phoenix picked up on this and realized his best friend was sad and started crying, which made Miles start to fully cry, and it just became a mess.

Meanwhile Larry with the 3/10 on his spelling test was just like “I don’t get what you guys are so upset about a 9/10 is great” which just makes them cry even more.

(Then Gregory probably found out about this incident and sat Miles down and gave him a speech about “everyone makes mistakes and it’s okay to not be perfect all the time, this is a learning opportunity and it shows you what you need to work on!”

:)

That sentiment didn’t last very long.)

Wow I’m getting off topic, moving on --

Phoenix crossed his arms. “I remember this whole thing very differently than you do. You cried first.”

“I never cried in fourth grade.”

Phoenix leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Origami.”

“Do not bring that up!” Edgeworth hissed as Phoenix reared back, laughing.

I don’t know if you need to lean in super close and whisper that in his ear though Phoenix, that might be a bit unnecessary. Miles got lucky here in that his Eternal Shame over not being able to fold an origami crane in fourth grade overrode whatever reaction he undoubtedly would have had about Phoenix’s face being very close to his face.

Anyways this banter is here in the fic mostly because I really wanted to show them being all comfortable and happy with each other. That was a major thing I wanted to push as much as possible in these earlier chapters, that they do care about each other a lot even before we enter the more outright romantic territory.

“Regardless, I am certain you took my gel pen set, so don’t try to blame faulty memory on that one. I bet you carelessly used them all up, didn’t you?”

“Hardly! I wouldn’t even touch it after you left. It reminded me of you.”

Some of the fight left Edgeworth’s stance. “Really?”

“Well… yeah.” He wasn’t sure why the admission suddenly felt like a confession of an entirely different sort.

aw man Phoenix you brought feelings into your banter NOW what are you going to do.

I’m preeetty sure I have books that I lent to my friends in fourth grade that they never gave back so it’s of course not an inherently romantic thing, they probably just forgot it was mine and obviously aren’t going to bring it back now ten years later, but for Phoenix in this case it was probably more like “I borrowed these gel pens from Miles and then keep forgetting to give them back but was going to after winter break, and then he left, so I need to hold onto them until he comes back”. Miles was taken from his life so suddenly it probably had a huge effect on him, especially since he had few friends at the time and Miles made such a big impact on him.

The two of them sat underneath the tree in a sudden, serene quiet. They’d both discarded their suit jackets at some point, down to their dress shirts and waistcoats. Phoenix pretended not to notice the way Edgeworth’s eyes darted across the line of his shoulders and lingered longer than they should have.

I don’t ever really pay much attention to what people are wearing or what they look like at any particular time when I’m writing, but in this case I took extra care to make sure they were in the same outfits as in the art that inspired this!

Maybe I’ll ramble a bit more about that! Pretty much the “theme” of narumitsu week this year was “cherry blossoms”, so I wanted to find some way to incorporate them into this fic somewhere somehow. I decided to have that as a focus on Free Day because I enjoy having structure and wasn’t sure what to have for the day.

Some of this scene, mainly the picnic, is inspired by that one official art here. The first iteration of this chapter had everyone in it (with the obvious exceptions of Diego and Mia) but then I took out Maya and Pearl for reasons I explained when I was talking about the scene in chapter 6 where I decided to cut a lot of Maya’s scenes out of this fic... even though I love her a lot.

And of course when I thought about cherry blossoms and narumitsu I thought about Mika’s art, yes I am linking it again, which I believe she posted about a month or so before I started planning and I was Thinking About It Constantly. It’s gorgeous and since there was the perfect opportunity to use it here I just couldn’t resist and here we are.

Back to the paragraph: Miles attempted to subtly check Phoenix out. It was not subtle.

“Do you still have those gel pens?” Edgeworth asked, softer. “I think you owe me them, after everything.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Phoenix, but it was difficult to have a heated argument right now, for some unknown reason. “If I still have them, they’re in a box somewhere. Plus, they ought to have dried up by now.”

“I doubt it.” A faint smile was beginning to crawl on Edgeworth’s face. “Those gel pens were state of the art.”

“Sure they were,” Phoenix dismissed. “And, what, you’re going to use them? Sign your fancy prosecutor documents in bright pink?”

“What makes you think I don’t do that already?”

“You wouldn’t — oh, wait, of course you’d have customized ink in the same colour as your entire wardrobe, who am I even talking to…”

“Mhm.” Edgeworth brushed his bangs from his eyes, a motion that Phoenix’s brain decided to fixate on for some reason. “But really, you went to all the trouble of keeping the set, and you never used any of them?”

(Miles voice) “oh so you kept something as trivial as that for so long because they reminded you of me? Tell me more. Why do you want a reminder of me. What exactly do you think of me, Wright,”

hm pretty much as soon as Phoenix brought Feelings into this conversation the atmosphere kind of changed and you can now imagine Miles staring with the most adoring expression at Phoenix while Phoenix is ignoring this with such intensity that it doesn’t even show up in his narration. But he also watches the way Miles brushes his bangs from his eyes, so he’s not much better.

And thinking about it now this scene really went on for too long about gel pens hahaha... 

“Objection!” Phoenix declared. “I used the blue one to write you letters at first.”

“Ah, of course you did. I never got any of those… How many did you send?”

“I don’t even want to know…”

Edgeworth hummed and looked off into the distance, where Gumshoe was demonstrating how to cast a line. “Your level of dedication is something else,” he said, as if to himself.

“Well, yeah. You were my only non-Larry friend. You were…” Phoenix swallowed. “You were important to me, you know? You saved me.”

“You keep bringing that up. You’ve more than returned the favor, you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

I don’t have a consistent headcanon about whether Miles got or read the letters, in this fic presumably von Karma intercepted them and got rid of them... and then presumably Miles ignored any that were sent to him as an adult.

Also these two are going to have ridiculous arguments about who saved who until they’re on their deathbeds, I’m sure.

Edgeworth turned back towards him as if to retort, but stopped halfway, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Phoenix.

“... Something on my face?” Phoenix asked, trying to quell the feeling of some sort of anxiety that bubbled up when Edgeworth stared at him like that.

insert mikacherryblossomart.png

Miles turns away for one second and then suddenly oh no he’s even more gorgeous now

Edgeworth was silent for some time. Then, very softly, he said, “You have cherry blossom petals in your hair.”

“What? Do I?” He reached a hand up to brush them out, but Edgeworth stopped him by grabbing his wrist, freezing Phoenix.

“With your hair, you’ll never get them out like that.” With his spare hand, Edgeworth began to pick each individual petal from his hair. “You look so — silly, Wright.”

Partially a callback to the beginning of chapter 3, when they were kids:

“Y-Your hair,” Miles managed to say through stifled laughter. “One of the flowers fell into it.”

Phoenix hands shot up into his hair. “Really?”

“You look so silly, Phoenix.” When Phoenix failed to find the flower, Miles reached out. “Here, let me.” 

 Phoenix remained still as Miles reached up to the top of his head and picked the flower out of his hair. “Your hair’s really soft,” Miles said quietly, before handing it over to Phoenix. “Here you go.”

because Miles apparently remembered that it was difficult for Phoenix to get the petals from his hair the first time, and also, wanted an excuse to touch Phoenix’s hair again.

But also the dialogue and interactions are ONCE AGAIN INSPIRED BY MIKA based on this reply to my reply to the art on twitter. look at that you can go and retweet the art on twitter too!

Overall this gives us an accurate Thoughts to Speech translator for Miles:

Miles: You have cherry blossom petals in your hair and it is going to kill me.

Phoenix: What? Do I?

Miles: No, wait, don’t brush them out, I want to touch your hair because it is soft and this is the perfect excuse. You look so captivating.

if Miles had said that out loud though it would probably have killed both of them.

Phoenix let out an awkward, low laugh, starting somewhere deep within his chest. “R-Really.”

“Mhm.”

Edgeworth’s eyes locked with Phoenix’s, and time seemed to freeze. There was a sudden thrum of tension in the air, as if Phoenix were in a play and he’d suddenly forgotten his lines, forgotten he was supposed to be in a play at all.

(chanting) “kiss kiss kiSS KISS KISS --”

But before either of them could break the sudden spell over them, a fishing hook whirred through the air, and —

“Ack, I — I think I got it stuck!”

but of course that needs to be interrupted at the worst possible time because this is fanfiction and this is how things work!

“In the tree?! How did you even manage to get it that far?”

“Don’t worry about it, Maggey, I can climb up the tree and get it unstuck, just hang on —”

“No, no, if I just give it a big yank—”

“Maggey—!”

I broke the first rule of writing dialogue because I can’t really remember who’s supposed to be saying what. I think that Maya had a few lines here and then I didn’t change them since there were no dialogue tags...

Pretty much -- Maggey with her eternal luck tried to fish but released the line too early as she was swinging back so the line went back and got caught in the tree branches directly above Phoenix and Miles.

I think the dialogue progression goes Maggey -> Originally Maya but now either Larry or Franziska -> Gumshoe -> Maggey -> everyone going MAGGEY NO!!!

I remember going fishing with my grandpa once a long time ago and either I or my brother did get the fishing line stuck in a tree. would not recommend.

The branch above Phoenix and Edgeworth jostled, and pink petals burst all around them, fluttering down and catching in their hair and on their clothes. One petal even fell behind Edgeworth’s glasses.

They stared at each other for a moment, stunned, Edgeworth’s hand still loosely wrapped around Phoenix’s wrist, as Maggey shouted apologies from the distance.

There are no cherry blossom trees where I live so I have no idea if we’re even in the right season for this or if cherry blossom trees even behave this way - but I’m basing it off of... you know when it’s that point in fall where if you shake a tree branch leaves will just scatter everywhere? That. 

Also RIP to the other four who were just having a grand old time fishing and then turn around seeing these two sitting really close to each other almost holding hands about two seconds away from a kiss... which they’d just interrupted...

And then — the most incredible thing happened, and Edgeworth began to laugh.

Phoenix could have catalogued all the laughs he heard from Edgeworth: the usual, short laughs often mistaken for a scoff by those who didn’t know him as well as Phoenix did; the triumphant, smug, courtroom laughs when he thought he had Phoenix cornered; to the quiet, restrained ones in private that were more of a hum than anything else. This laugh was new.

This was a full-on fit of laughter bubbling deep in his chest and spilling from his mouth, which Edgeworth quickly covered with his free hand, with the additional bonus of covering his reddening face. It wasn’t something hidden or faked or triumphant, it was genuine, and open, and Phoenix could swear it was one of the most beautiful sounds he ever heard.

Miles here is going through an emotional rollercoaster having been two seconds away from finally kissing the love of his life only to be interrupted at the worst possible time, which is just so on brand for the two of them that he can’t help but start laughing hysterically. Plus Phoenix probably looks absolutely shocked suddenly covered in petals, which doesn’t help.

Then the next two paragraphs are brought on by Phoenix Pining and also me wanting Miles Edgeworth to laugh more... 

From my notes for this scene:

They stare at each other for a moment and laugh, and Miles’ laugh just utterly captivates Phoenix and makes him fall so completely in love immediately and oh no he is screwed he is utterly screwed.

So pretty much I had to encapsulate the “falling so completely in love immediately” part which I decided to do by focusing on Miles laughing. I wanted to draw a lot of attention to that which is why there are so many paragraphs dedicated to Miles laughing and Phoenix thinking about Miles laughing.

Trucy’s laughter always made the world feel a little brighter, and made Phoenix feel stronger. Edgeworth’s laugh did the opposite; it dislodged something inside of him, it weakened him, it made the whole world go soft and fuzzy around him. Instead of illuminating all the good in the world, it turned Phoenix’s world into one person.

More focus on Miles’ laughter but also... kind of drawing attention to Phoenix’s reaction to this being different from his reaction to other people he cares about laughing? Because feeling warm and happy when seeing someone you care about non-romantically laugh is normal, but then I wanted to make it clear that this is a different sort of feeling for Phoenix. 

Also Phoenix has to realize this is a different sort of feeling for him because otherwise he could brush it off like he’s probably dismissed all of his romantic feelings throughout the years as “oh I’m just glad my friend is happy, and I rarely ever hear Edgeworth laugh so him being relaxed enough to laugh like that makes me feel happy too,” but it’s not what he’d expect if he just sees Miles as a friend. And it’s described as weakening in the paragraph because right now the subject of his romantic feelings for Miles isn’t something that Phoenix can fully or easily accept right now (as chapter 5 would indicate).

Edgeworth’s fit of laughter subsided, and he shifted his hand so he could look at Phoenix again, the hints of a shy grin peeking out between his fingers, his hair and his shirt and his face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink. It was like looking at an entirely different person — or, no, the same person, but with all armor off, all guards lowered.

Miles is very embarrassed right now but kind of... in a good way...? Like again, almost kissed the love of his life then rudely interrupted at the last possible moment, plus Phoenix’s whole reaction to the thing gave Miles the impression that Phoenix wanted to kiss him as well, so he’s feeling a little giddy. Plus he was just laughing a lot when he normally doesn’t do that. Overall he’s not used to expressing his emotions so he’s embarrassed and a little shy about it...

The part about Miles’ “hair and shirt and face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink” refers to both the cherry blossom petals (in his hair and clinging to his shirt and a bit on his face) and also him blushing quite a bit.

It all feels a little out of character honestly haha because Miles isn’t really the type to be blushing hardcore like this and be a little shy, buuut in this case I let myself get away with it because he’s dealing with romantic feelings he hasn’t ever dealt with at this level before, and it’s also out of character just enough to really strike Phoenix in the heart. You can just imagine him staring at Miles with the most lovestruck expression on his face because he hasn’t seen this side of Miles before and he loves it.

Phoenix’s heart stuttered in his chest, and may have stopped entirely.

He was screwed.

He was completely and utterly screwed.

And even Phoenix can’t deny that he’s super in love at this point. 

I think I wrote this part, changed the words “screwed” to “doomed” right before posting, and then switched it back again for no particular reason. The Vibe just felt a little off but oh well.

Then the next chapter skips over the rest of this picnic but honestly Phoenix’s brain skipped over the rest of this picnic as well. Imagine the two of them just kind of standing around in a lovestruck daze for a while. I think Franziska had to physically drag Miles out of there. no one knows how Phoenix got home, not even Phoenix and least of all me!

But thank you Mika for requesting this!! And for drawing such incredible art for me to base the chapter around haha!!!

[moonlightreal]

Fate Episode One

At long last, it’s tiiiiiime!

First: whitewashing bad.  Fact acknowledged.  Everybody else has said everything on the subject (ad nauseum...) so no reason to say it all again!

I’m diving in with questions.  The main one is “Will there be a good reason for Musa to be a mind fairy rather than a music fairy?” Dunno why that’s what I’m wondering the most, but it is.  There’s also “Is Fate!Stella truly an unholy union of Stella and Diaspro?” and “so what makes them fairies not witches/psychics/mutants?” and “So what’s up with Beatrix?  We know nothing about her, and as an Umineko fan I’m favorably disposed towards witches named Beatrice!” and also “They’re not really having sex are they?!”

I’m going to try and approach Fate just like I do every season of the cartoon, ready to celebrate the good, snark at the bad, enjoy many headcanons, reference random stuff, and have a good time.  Pretending I haven’t had my fannish heart nigh to broken by the state of the fandom and that I’m worried I’ll get hate for even posting this.  I’m’a try to start from zero to find my own answer the really big question… “Good, bad, or totally irredeemable?”

So… In which we discover a new world.

We start with… a night scene.  Not promising when “too dark can’t see” is one of my pet peeves!  An old fella comes out to check on his cute Irish sheep.  He passes through the barrier, into the dangerous forest beyond to look for a missing sheep.  Yup, he’s gonna be guest victim in the first five minutes.

Oh no!  Something has disemboweled a sheep and left it hanging in a tree!  Clearly there are leopards in the magical realm!

There is a great roar and an unseen but very large-sounding beast chases our poor shepherd!  The guy trips and falls just as he’s about to get through the barrier and is set upon and devoured by the unseen beast!  Blood spatters the rocks!

Opening! It’s the wings we’ve sen and some really beautiful music.  One point for the music.

Then a gorgeous flying shot of the outside of the barrier and Alfea. Whatever the plot turns out to be, the outdoor setting is beautiful. Music that seems to be both pop and edgy plays as we zoom in on the logo on the gate, and there’s Bloom coming in the gate.

And there’s Terra with her father and a tray full of plants.

And there’s Aisha walking by with her dreads

And there’s Stella taking a selfie with other students.

And there’s Musa leaning on her suitcase, headphones on, looking at her phone.  Another girl says something to Musa and she turns and replies and smiles.

And there’s one of the guys twirling a knife.  I’ve heard Sky starts out in a pink shirt so this must be Riven.  The camera comes back to Bloom as she gives him a doubtful look.  In the novelization she’s mentally labeling him an edgelord, and that kinda fits.  Any dude showing off his willingness to twirl weapons at a high school probably is best avoided—except the dudes here are training to fight so the weapons rules must be different.  I wonder if Bloom knows yet that dudes with swords are normal here.

Bloom gets a text to meet Stella at the gate.  She waits.

Camera pan to Sky talking to another guy.  Sky looks… Sky-ish. ��Chris Evans style handsome, blond.  I’d’ve made him grow his hair to mimic cartoon Sky’s silly shaggy haircut, but points for making Sky look like Sky!  Minus points for not dying Riven maroon.  They could’ve made it work!

Sky is indeed wearing a pink shirt.  In the novelization Bloom thinks he’s wearing it “because gender roles were for the weak” which is a line I think is funny and intend to use in a story somewhere. There is no obvious hint in the show that Sky thinks gender roles are for the weak

Bloom’s tired of waiting.  She heads off.  Sky ditches his buddy to go meet her.  “Wow, you are so lost.  I’m impressed with your confidence in the face of complete ignorance.  Issue is, you’re overcomitted. You’re essentially running.  And now that I’m here you can’t possibly give me the satisfaction of turning around.”  he says, all in one go.  

I can’t decide if that’s jerkish or charming.  Maybe Bloom shares my weakness for men with accents because she decides on charming.

Bloom says she’s a fairy, giggles because that’s something she never thought she’d say, they’re standing in the courtyard of a college for fairies, Bloom’s from California, not the Otherworld.  So we get all that established.  Sky is kinda charming here and points out the specialists’ hall and fairy hall.

Sky: “I’d be happy to-”

Bloom: “Mansplain it?”  

So the writing team does know some modern issues!  Bloom says Sky seems like a mansplainer, which seems like quite a leap since she is new and he is helping her, in a friendly-sarcastic kind of way.  She’s giggling, clearly charmed.

Then Riven comes up, and he’s like a foot shorter than Sky, and Bloom escapes for some reason so maybe she wasn’t enjoying the conversation as much as it looked? Or maybe it was just the plot needs to move along.  Riven glomp-hugs Sky.  He’s got a great accent too.

Bloom must’ve left because she saw Stella, they say hello.  Bloom says she got impatient waiting and Stella says, “How very American of you”  So American stereotypes are known in magical worlds also?    

So, Stella!  Blonde, tall, zero Stella vibe.  Accent. Long pale coat and a satiny top with big chunky pendant.  She gets to her ring quick, “Portal ring, the only thing that keeps me sane in this place is the ability to leave it.  Your world may not always be thrilling but it beats this one.  There are seven realms in the Otherworld, each a different kind of boring.”  All spoken in a jaded monotone.  Ugh, what have they done to our Stella!

The girls walk inside while Stella speaks, the school is pale stone and arches and plants.  Other students are arriving, hauling suitcases, hugging.  At least some of them seem happy to be here!

Cut to the globe!  and it’s a magical globe, the water moves and there are lil sailing ships!  But the lands are totally blank, so it’s a cheap magic globe Dowling didn’t pay enough for the one with tiny forests too.  Alfea is in the realm of Solaria.

Maybe they shouldn’t have made Ireland = Solaria.  I’ve only been to England but we did not see the sun the whole trip!  Bloom’s in Dowling’s really cool office.  She spins the globe but the camera pans away before we see the names of the other realms.  Bloom’s talking nervously about seeing people updating their insta stories, expecting Tinkerbells, and the lack of wings.

Dowling: “We had wings in the past.  As we’ve evolved, transformation magic has been lost.  Tink was an air fairy, you’re a fire fairy.”

Dowling says classes tomorrow, learn to use magic slowly but safely… we establish Bloom is here to learn to control her magic so she can go home and not keen on ‘slow.’  Dowling says, ‘trust the process’ which immediately makes me mistrust her.

Then she gives a great lil speech: “Alfea’s graduates have ruled realms and led armies.  They have forged powerful relics and rediscovered long lost relics.  They shape the otherworld.”

But Bloom just wants to get done and go home.  She says, ‘I'm here because you promised you’d teach me control.” and Dowling says, ‘no, you’re here because you knew you have no other choice.” and Bloom looks betrayed.

Yeah Dowling’s sus.  

Next scene: Bloom showing her dorm to her parents over video call!  How does that work between dimensions?  Her folks look nothing like Mika and Vanessa, dad’s got a beard and silver temples, mom’s got big blonde curls.  Neither of them have burn injuries or the sort of freaked out vibe I’d expect from folks whose house was just on fire.

Roommate pan-around!  Terra puts potted plants everywhere!  Stella preens at the vanity! Musa headphones-and-laptop but smiles at Terra.  Aisha comes in with her laundry bag.

Bloom’s parents get suspicious about the timezone thing, they think Bloom’s in the Alps, and Aisha comes and covers for her saying it’s time for lights out.

Aisha intro!  She is wearing a pink and brown checkered dress that’s not super fashionable or flattering.  I like her blue braids though. Aisha does not seem to have the accent that many Alfeans have.

Bloom explains the “human parents, fairy daughter, I must be a throwback to an ancestor” thing.  Aisha looks dubious.  Then they mention Harry Potter!

Bloom; ‘Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin.’

Aisha; ‘Explains the lies then.  Gryffindor.’

Bloom: ‘Explains the judgment.’

Congrats, you both were jerks in three short lines. 9_9  But they’re smiling so I guess it’s friendly sniping.  

Bloom goes to see Stella, who’s holding up sparkly tops to herself. She’s also got this weird rainbow skirt that looks like gymnastics clothes not real clothes.  Stella’s changing for the party because people have already seen her in her clothes.  Bloom asks confused, ‘People expect you to wear multiple outfits?’ and Stella comes back with, ‘people expect me to care how I look.” In the same jaded monotone.

Before Bloom can WTF outta there like a sensible person Stella snaps her fingers and creates a ball of light.  Bloom gapes, but not nearly as much as I feel like she should.  The magic is beautiful, it’s all rainbowy and sparkly.  Bloom just hesitantly asks, ‘Can I ask, how exactly you..?” and Stella shuts her down with an almost kind, “I’m a mentor, not a tutor.”

But she does give a little infodump.  “Fairy magic is tied to emotion. God thoughts, bad, hatred, fear, the stronger the emotion the stronger the magic.”

And Bloom says, ‘Do you hate me or fear me?  You were looking at me when you did that.  And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me.” Smart cookie, Bloom!  Points to you!  We know it’s because Bloom was talking to sky, and that gives Stellla some emotions.

And points to Stella, she thaws out her voice and talks like a real person, ‘I don’t know you.  I’m sure once I do I’ll find something to love.”  She sounds rather doubtful about the last bit but yay actual emotion!

Then Stella goes over to Terra for her intro scene and I cringe because the novelization did Terra dirty and I’m not keen to see it on screen.  But it works ok.  Stella gently calls Terra on the number of houseplants and says the secret garden was better kept secret, Terra responds that wasn’t really the message of the book, Stella looks at her with amused patience and leaves Musa and Terra to continue the scene.  And I decide if there’s no infodump about how earth and the Otherworld relate to each other in this show I shall be cross.

Then Terra chatters on about her family and how she grew up at Alfea since her dad works here (she’s holding a 100% fake plant) and drops that Stella is a second year.  Musa asks why a second-year is in a first-year suite and Terra says it’s some administrative thing probably best not to mention.  But Terra totally knows the secret.

Musa’s eyes glow purple.  Magic!  But we don’t hear what she hears.  She starts putting her headphones on.  Terra goes on to say they should all not mention it to Stella, then interrupts another headphones-attempt to offer Musa a succulent, “They’re low maintainence, perfect for you, not that I really know you...’

Musa: ‘If I take it will you stop talking?”

Terra visibly deflates and Musa apologizes and grabs the succulent before finally getting to escape into music.

Aisha leans in to ask Terra if Alfea has a pool.  It has a river and Aisha’s been swimming—twice a day every day!  Terra says no pool, just the pond where the specialists train but nobody swims there, at least not on purpose.

And we immediately cut out to the pond, which looks pretty mucky, I wouldn’t want to swim there either!  Two specialists, a boy and a girl, are whacking away at each other with wooden swords on the shore.  They’re all dressed in black pants and tank tops, very Divergent movie poster except with the Alfea logo on the front. There’s a bunch of specialists training all around the pond and one does indeed knock their opponent in with a splash!  But we home in on Sky and Riven and I cannot get over how short and skinny Riven is compared to Sky!  And the fact that I’ve just been rewatching Lord of the Rings and Riven doesn’t look 100% not like Dominic Monaghan… sorry Riven’s actor, I’m sure in future episodes I’ll stop thinking you’re a hobbit!

Anyway, Riven’s teasing Sky about his crush on Bloom, says Sky always goes for the crazy ones and all redheads are crazy.  Sky puts Riven on the mat and Riven says he was getting high all summer and not practicing. Before Sky can give him a “big brother speech” on that riven skedaddled because here comes the teacher with a different speech!

This show’s Codatorta, whose name is Silva and who looks very irish and I like him, does a little speech about how y’all gotta train, singles out a black guy I think is Dane and says, ‘even you will be able to fight like him.” and attacks Sky, who fights back.  They spar for a minute.

Infodump: “Sky’s father was Andreas of Eraklyon, that makes him a legacy.” Also, some of these kids are from families of specialists and some were selected by Silva based on their talent for combat and weaponry. “This place will seem like hell until actual hell comes.  We are the first line of defense, a certainty when the future is uncertain!’

Then Dane snickers about the whole ‘school full of kids with swords’ and Silva says it must be nice to be so ‘soft’ he can make fun. And Dane drops that the barrier exists ‘to protect the school from Burned Ones.”

As he says it, we cut to Sky going out through the barrier to smoke.  

Burned ones are gone.  But Silva saw one when he was a kid.  His father shot it but was killed by the Burned One’s poison.  Burned Ones are inhumanly strong and fast, and have a terrible poison, or disease that kills people who get away.

Sky looks over and sees the shepherd’s body.  Yikes!

Cut to the staff arriving to look at the remains.  Just three: Dowling, Codatorta, and Terra’s dad.  Is that the whole staff?  Who teaches? Could’ve been a wolf or a bear… Terra’s dad collects some gunk from the body and I think calls it “char residue.”

Dowling says, “She killed all the Burned Ones.”

She? This world’s Marion/Daphne, likely.

But the adults clean it up so the kids can party!  Our girls are gathered around the food, and they’re better dressed!  Aisha’s got her hair up and a blue hoodie, Musa’s got a little red coat.  Terra has not been blessed by the fashion fairy, she’s in some overalls it looks like, not flattering.  Terra is saying hopefully that maybe the shepherd died of old age and Musa’s ‘Yeah, that old age decapitation” is gentle ribbing not cruel.  

Aisha’s loading up a stack of cookies, says how much she eats and, ‘If I didn’t swim I’d be massive.” it’s not aimed at Terra , but Terra flinches.  Aisha heads off and Terra says something that boils down to, ‘Musa, you’re tuning out me in particular.” which, Terra you’ve known Musa for what, six hours?  Way too short a time to take it personal.  Musa says, ‘It’s a me thing, it’s not you.” and Terra just flusters and heads away.  Musa looks troubled but not sure what to do and puts her headphones on.

This is SO much better than in the book.  Not perfect, all the interactions between the girls have been very weird as if they’ve been given a script full of cruel catty lines and instructed to say them in a kind way, but at least they’ve tried for the vibe of “trying to be nice to people we don’t know yet and flubbing it” rather than “we are all terrible people” like I feared.

Terra meets her dad and tries to go to the greenhouse with him but he makes her stay to enjoy the party.

Cut to some grownup dude—Dowling’s secretary? Apparently searching for something in a desk that I presume is outside the headmistress’ office.

Beatrix… or possibly a gothed-up Bloom… comes to see Dowling and when told the headmistress isn’t in says, ‘I’ll just take a water, room temp, thanks love.’ and then when the door opens Beatrix greets Dowling with a simpering ‘I'm your biggest fan, I’m obsessed with Alfea...” and cascading apologies for swearing, with more swearing. Dowling and her secretary are as confused by this as I am but Dowling says Beatrix can study the history of Alfea in the library if she wants to.  I assume this is evil Beatrix slyly getting permission to hit the books.  Is Beatrix even a student at Alfea?

Cut to Bloom’s notebook, she’s already started taking notes about powers being linked to emotions, love hate and fear.  Great initiative Bloom, but are there no textbooks you could be reading ahead in?  

We get dumped back to a flashback: Bloom’s mom wants her to go out on a Saturday night, to a party or a movie or whatever teen thing.  All Bloom wants to do is go to antique sales apparently.  Bloom doesn’t want to be a “basic bitch” like her mom and her mom doesn’t want her daughter to be a “weird loner.”

Pause while I urban dictionary “basic bitch.”  Huh.  Not a term I ever heard in my circle of nerds.  

Bloom and her mom are awful to each other.  Back in the present Bloom’s eyes flame up as she remembers.  She decides it’s time to go experiment!  Right now!  Before even one day of magic class or one page of a textbook!  The idiot ball has entered play.

Night has fallen because of course it has.  Bloom runs into Sky at the party.  But she’s not looking to party, she’s looking for a place to be alone outside.  Sky directs her to beyond the barrier, because we’re about to have Plot.  If it weren’t for Plot I‘m sure Sky could’ve suggested a specialist workout area inside the barrier. Sky says there might be wolves or bears or “maybe something much scarier” and Bloom catches the idiot ball and says, ‘But no people?  Perfect!”

Sky offers to go with her but Bloom says no thanks in a “I think you may be flirting and I may be down for that in the future just not right now.” kind of a way.  Good character interaction!  Except Stella grabs Sky for a chat once Bloom heads out to meet the Plot.

Sky and Stella have an opaque exchange that really just establishes they have a past of some sort that everyone knows about because everyone stares—or at least Stella thinks everyone is staring.  I’m starting to feel weirdly sorry for this Stella who has none of her namesake’s sparkle and confidence.  Why does she think all the realms are boring?  Is she ever enthusiastic?

...wait, it’s still day!  Why was it night inside??  This show is weird about lighting.  Gosh Ireland is beautiful!  Where’s this castle they got to be Alfea?  Can I go there?  This FOREST!  It is a fully magical forest.  Aisha is swimming in the river, with goggles and a cap but Bloom heads into the amazing forest.  Good music here too!  Forests and magic and music, come on Fate you CAN be a good show, I believe in you!  Just put down the idiot ball and step away...  Bloom goes through the barrier and outside it sees a swirl of orange and white sparkles in the air.  She watches it and laughs and then hikes through a little more forest.

Finding a clearing Bloom calls her fire.  At first she can’t, then she looks through the pictures on her phone looking for emotion. “Pictures of my sad teenage years are not happy thoughts.  Noted.” She says with an angsty little smile.  Then there’s a photo of the burned out house.  She zooms in and stares at it taking in all the details.  And we get flashbacks to the line of fire racing towards her parents’ bed.

Fire! Bloom turns her handful of fire this way and that, delighted, then tries for two hands.  This is the scene from the trailer, playing with fire.  Good music here.  And good that Bloom thought the magic was neat… uuuuntil she realizes she doesn’t know how to put it out.  She freaks out and waves her hands around trying to blow out the flames.

Aisha comes to the rescue and says dumb things like, “You’re losing control.” and “If you get angry at me...” and Bloom does get angry and throws lines of fire right at Aisha.  Who looks terrified. Sensibly, but also has she never seen fire magic before?  She grew up in a magic realm, does she know nothing about how to help someone get control?  Is control taught to magical babies so teenagers rarely see someone wigging out?  But if magic is emotion then everyone will lose control sometime since we all get upset.  How does an emotion=magic society function?

Anyway. aisha pulls water up from the ground and puts out the flames.

Inside Aisha gives Bloom what for about losing control.  Including, “Is that American for sorry I almost set you on fire?”  Srsly, this show is Irish people and Italians stealth throwing shade at Americans!  *Laughs in January 2021* Bloom retorts that she went away from people to experiment for just that reason, and tells Aisha about not having had fairy parents or any magical experience.

Aisha responds with the story of flooding her school including the toilets and having to wade through poo.  (I also tend to call it poo, after watching Mike Rowe.  I wonder if they watch Dirty Jobs in the Otherworld.)

And Bloom tells her story.  Bloom isn’t a cheerleader, she likes antiques and staying home by herself, so she and her mom don’t get along.  Her parents removed her door, which is awful!  And Bloom got flamey eyes and sent fire straight at her parents while they slept. While Bloom sat on her bed in a rage trance.  Understandable level of fury after that fight.  And Bloom feels awful, also understandable. And she snuck out to sleep in a creepy warehouse to protect her parents.  Her folks didn’t know it was her of course, they don’t know about magic.

Aisha says that beats her flood story, but Aisha is also wondering about something.  “You drew on a good deal of magic without even trying. it’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline.  Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Bloom laughs.  Then says she heard the story of her birth a million times, she was a miracle baby diagnosed with a heart defect but then after birth her heart was fine.

Aisha: “Oh god, you’re a changeling!” … ‘It’s barbaric and it barely ever happens anymore….”

Bloom has had enough and just says, “why would you even tell me that?” and leaves.  Musa comes over and asks Aisha what she said.  Aisha: “The truth.  Because someone’s been lying to her.”

Cut to Dowling, lookin’ sus!

This changeling thing had better be fully explained later.  Why was it done in the past?  Why is it considered barbaric?  What happened to the parents’ real kid?  I assume she died of the heart condition, but that’s a bigole dangling bit of Plot.  In the unlikely event that Fate goes for many seasons that baby will turn up with magic too or as a specialist or something. 

Dowling pours tea.  Then she telekinetically locks her office door and opens a secret passage!  Dowling is sus.

Back at the party, where it again seems to be night.  Dane is leaning on a column hangin out when here comes Riven with a flask!  He offers, Dane says no thanks, Riven says, ‘There are two types of first-years: pussies and aspiring former pussies.” and pours the entire flask’s worth of booze into Dane’s cup anyway.

Dane says something about, “It feels like less a binary choice and more like a spectrum.”  And points for the actor delivering this line like it’s a sarcastic comment on social juscice-ness rather than the large sign saying “Dane is not straight!’ that the writers intended.  Dane drinks, makes a face, and Riven bullies him into drinking the rest, tipping the glass so Dane chokes.

Terra rides to the rescue, “Bullying the first-years?  Can you be more basic?” and Riven says Dane was into it which he wasn’t.

Terra: “Thinks he’s some badass but you should’ve seen him last year he was just a tragic nerd in disguise.”

Riven: “And she’s just three people in disguise.”

Dane does call Riven out on that bit of nastiness but Terra just does a great lil speech and strangles Riven with vines.  Thought I’d hate that but I kinda liked it.  Go Terra.  Then she introduces herself to Dane, says that wasn’t a great first impression but Dane says he’s about to make an impression by throwing up after a single drink, and Terra hurries him away presumably to the nurse.  

Bloom google-imaged changelings!  Lotsa woodcuts, someone’s fanart entitled “horror of fairy babies.’  There’s more nuance to it than that…  Bloom looks at a family photograph.

There’s Stella, coming to be sympathetic?  Nope, she’s coming to conivingly advance the plot!  “You know there’s no shame in that, wanting a normal life, wanting to be home...”

When the girls get back Bloom is nowhere to be found.  Musa mind-reads that Stella is wracked with guilt,  They put it together, Bloom was talking to Sky and now she’s gone.  Apparently Stella did something nasty to the last girl who talked to Sky.  Terra is kinda straight up badass.  Stella confesses, she kindly loaned Bloom the portal ring so she could go back to “the first world” but to use it Bloom has to go deep into the forest outside the barrier to a door in a graveyard.

Portal’s super low special effects, Bloom pushes open a door in a cemetary, the ring glows, and Bloom walks into what must be the warehouse she hid out in.

It’s very dark inside both buildings but away from the cemetary it seems to still be day so we can see a Burned One’s shadow coming towards the portal.  Day and night seem to depend on location in this show, and anywhere you need a monster it’s gonna be dark!  Bloom seems to leave the magic portal open and we see her step out on the warehouse into a weirdly well-lit night on earth.

Real actual nighttime on earth.  Bloom walks to her parents’ house and calls them from outside.  Her dad’s surprised she called twice in one day.  This call her folks seem just worried and nice, not awful like they were in the flashback.  Bloom cries.  She can’t ask her parents about the changeling thing.  Her mom says very kind, ‘Your path isn’t like mine or your father’s but I can’t wait to see who you become.”  Bloom hangs up and cries and watches her parents in their house, then walks back to the warehouse to return to Alfea.

But first we get to see where she was camping!  In a little office in the warehouse. She brought a lot of stuff, bedding and pictures for the walls and everything.  She opens a notebook and we see that she was experimenting already, discovered she was fireproof, wondered if she had superpowers.  Then she senses something and looks out through an interior window into the rest of the warehouse.

Yikes! it’s a Burned One!

Bloom staggers back, trips, and drops Stella’s ring down a grate in the floor.

Bloom’s never heard of Burned Ones at this point but she knows a monster when she sees one.  She cowers, back to the wall. The Burned One breaks through the window and tries to grab her!

Bloom escapes into some kind of tunnel, I guess she opened the grate that the ring fell through?  It’s not totally clear.  There’s the ring, on the other side of a different grate or screen, Bloom can’t reach it, there’s lots of roaring, Bloom runs like hell!

And there’s Dowling!  She says, ‘don’t stop now.’ and gestures Bloom through the door back to the cemetery.  The door closes behind her.  Terra, Musa and Aisha are waiting to make sure Bloom’s ok. Bloom says the Burned One got the ring.

Stella, meanwhile, is on Sky’s bed when he comes out of the shower! Dressed, at least.

Sky is not interested.  “You can’t be here, Stell.  If Silva finds out-’   Sky goes for his trousers but Stella comes over and snuggles up to his bare back.  Sky is still not keen.  Seems Stella dumped him then went silent all summer and now she’s jumping in since he talked to Bloom.  Stella… comes out and says, “I got jealous. I did something really stupid.”  and she says, “I can’t sleep in a room where everybody hates me.”   For sending Bloom into danger to get home when that’s what Bloom wanted?  Not great, Stella, but hateworthy?  Did the girls all tell her they hate her or does Stella just think she’s an awful person?  And is Stella actually desperately unhappy or is she just trying to get in Sky’s pants?  Not sure what to take away from this.  Sky hugs Stella and tells her she’s better than she thinks she is.  

The others get back to the dorm and Aisha reassures Bloom that Dowling can take care of the Burned One.

Cut to Beatrix leaving her raid on the library with armfuls of books. She passed Riven, who’s smoking.  They say flirty things and Beatrix says she’s been “snorting the midnight adderall” to show that she’s a bad girl.  Riven offers her a puff but her hands are full of books so they do this almost-kiss so Riven can blow smoke into her mouth.  Erotic, also gross.  Is that a real thing people do? Riven asks Beatrix if she’s a first-year and she says “I’m lots of things” and walks off leaving Riven and the room he’s in, which has the most gorgeous arched windows with trees in them.  Is this place real?  It’s the same place the party was but now it’s night and these windows are glowing green with tree outlines in them. This has gotta be something the filmmakers added.

Pajama scene in the girls’ suite, Terra waters plants, Musa hops in bed with headphones on.  Terra does a needy little wave.  Musa reluctantly un-headphones.  Terra offers a speaker she borrowed from her brother so Musa can have her music without shutting other people out.

And I cringe so hard because just let people tune you out if they want! Communicate by whiteboard!  People not wanting to share doesn’t mean they hate you, it means they have their own thoughts they’re busy with!  Come on Terra, be better than your novelization self!

Musa calls Terra out on her fake-happy bullshit.  Musa can feel all of Terra’s insecurities and anger.  Seems like maybe empaths shouldn’t have to share a room!  What’s the range on mind reading?  How did Musa hit 16 without learning to tune stuff out or going mad?  But Musa says, ‘but if you want to know how I really feel...” and switches her music to a speaker, it’s guitar-y and nice.

Up in Dowling’s office, Silva says she should’ve killed the Burned One not left it chained up and knocked out in a shack outside the barrier.  Dowling needs to investigate this Burned One, see if there are more of them.  Then Dowling spills that Bloom is a changeling, from the time the last Burned One disappeared.  And she says, “Rosalind kept so much from us.  I’m worried about the students. The Alfea they know is very different from the one we attended.”  There’s something very “there was a war before” about the two of them.  Dowling may not be sus after all, though that may make her a terrible headmistress depending on how the next episodes go.

Montage of sleeping students.  Terra and Dane are texting.  Dane accidentally likes one of Riven’s sexy photos.  Riven’s pleased.  Sky and Stella are sharing a bed but after the last scene I can’t imagine they actually did anything.  Sky seemed pretty unseduceable.  

And outside a Mysterious Cloaked Figure passes through the barricade, finds the Burned One in the hut, and zaps it awake with lightning. It pushed back its hood… Beatrix!  So if she undid her too-tight braids she’d be Stormy?  So is Beatrix the villain?  I mean obviously she’s a villain but the threat of the Burned Ones feels... bigger than one teenager in Bratz clothes who has not got the presence of even one Trix much less all three wrapped up together.  But anyway she’ gets to be a doomful cloaked figure at the end of episode one.

Very pretty ending credits music. Listened to it several times.  I can’t understand the lyrics which is probably just as well.  Is it in irish or is it just sung in a way to not have clear lyrics?  C’mon fate, Irishness is a big thing you’ve got going for you, please milk it for all its worth!

I… I LIKED it!  Now my friends say future episodes get worse so I can’t get my hopes too high but this wasn’t awful.  None of the girls really had any vibe of their characters, only Bloom and Sky really look like Bloom and Sky.  The worldbuilding is lacking, I’m left with more questions than answers.

And oh god one episode was ten pages and about five hours.  I… I meant to do this with every episode but I’m not sure I can.  There’s so much to comment on it takes forever.  Maybe I’ll do each one in parts.  Or maybe I’ll abandon the writing and just watch the show like a normal person.  It’s a lot of fun to fine-toothed comb each scene but I’m’a be here forever!

[thenextchapter22]

Obey Me Snippet

Helllooo! I am new and wanted to say hii and show my love with a small piece of a fic from my latest obsession Shall We Date?: Obey Me! This is something I am currently working on and it’s been a process but I want to share some of it with everyone! :D

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Author’s note: I plan on posting this to my ao3 eventually (not sure when). Please like and comment and let me know what you think! (PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORKS)

Major Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Eating Disorders

The premise: Mika (my ofc who is plus sized) couldn’t fit into her uniform skirt after some unexpected weight gain and was very upset so she texted Lucifer that she couldn’t go to RAD because she was sick. This is what follows. ENJOY~~

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There was a knock on her door. “Mika, may I come in?”

“Um… just a second,” she called out.

Frantic, Mika grabbed a pair of pants from the floor and threw them on. She would just have to fake it and hope.

Lucifer eyed her as soon as she opened her door. He did not look impressed, arms crossed in his RAD uniform. “You don’t look ill. What’s wrong?”

Shit. “I…”

“Yes?” he raised his brows, his lips pursing just so. Her mouth opened and nothing came out. He sighed. “Don’t waste my time. I have piles of paperwork to sign off on today.”

And that, right there, was all it took. She could not do it. She would not lie to him. She had done so once, with Belphie, and it turned out to be the worst choice she had ever made and it nearly ended up with her dead.

She sighed. “I can’t lie to you.”

He uncrossed his arms, and titled his head down at her. “Well, it seems you already did.”

She winced. “I know.” She invited him inside to talk, an inevitable really if she had thought more into it and just not sent the stupid text, and he sat on her bed. Mika sat beside him, silent for a few seconds. Hands in her lap, barely thinking of anything, simply gathering courage to speak her mind.

Before she could speak, Lucifer cupped her cheek, turning her head just so, and wiped his gloved thumb under her eye gently. The tense atmosphere he gave off was gone and in replace of that was concern, especially in his eyes which were almost always telling to her what he was feeling. “You were crying recently. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She sniffled. His hand was warm, and comforting. “It’s hard to say…”

He frowned. “Please understand that I will always be here for you, Mika. Whatever you need me to be for you I can, whether that’s a lover, or just somebody to talk with. You must know that. So tell me. Why can you not come to classes today? The sick excuse is something Mammon even rarely uses any longer.”

She just spit it out. “I’m…disgusting.”

“Mika!” He held her face tighter, and stared into her eyes with great intensity. It was like she could feel his eyes burning into her own, an invisible beam cutting into her deepest insecurity. Lucifer looked at her like she disappointed him and it ached.

“Do not ever speak of yourself that way again. I won’t tolerate lies.”

Mika’s emotions were going haywire. She was angry at him, angry at herself. “It’s not a lie, Lucifer.” She stood up, practically wrenching her face from his grip, and stormed over to her closet. She grabbed a RAD skirt and threw it onto the floor, and did it with several others, making a pile of discarded clothes as she ranted. “I’m fat as fuck right now! I can’t fit into any of my skirts for school and a button literally popped off of it. You know how long it took me to even cope with this overweight body I have?! Honestly I really don’t think I ever did! I’ve always been ugly. And I always will be ugly!”

He was at her side in seconds, holding her close, hushing her, pressing her face into his chest with his large hand. She sobbed into his arms, clutching the back of his jacket, albeit rubbing her wet snotty face into his nice uniform.

“My love, you are so, so beautiful. Your soul shines brighter than any other I have met. There is nothing I would not do to protect you from harm, even from your own foolish words.” She gasped as he said this, but he went on. “I don’t know what else I could say to make you love yourself like I do.” His fingers found her chin from where it was buried in his shirt, and he pulled her face to look up at him. There was something akin to pity, she assumed, lingering there in his expression. “You know I can and should punish you for this, correct? I have said many times I will not allow lies in this house.”

Her throat was tight, she could barely swallow. She nodded as best she could in her position. “Yes,” she murmured. It was what she dreaded. He did always comfort her, made her feel treasured, but in the moment she would feel ultimately continuously guilty for whatever she had done to deserve the reprimand.

“Good, as you well should. But,” he continued, “I believe you have punished yourself enough. I think I should show you just how much you mean to me instead. Show you just how absolutely stunning I think you are.” He went from punisher, to seducer in an instant.

“Wha—Lucifer!” She gasped as she was grabbed around her waist and tossed onto her bed, bouncing on the mattress. “What are you…”

He looked determined, and a bit mischievous which was one of her favorite Lucifer’s (up there with domineering). Those subtle shifts in his lips, and his brows, it took her some time to figure out just what each expression meant. “I adore you, Mika. Let me show you.”

She gulped, and nodded slowly. “Okay, show me.” She spoke quietly. If he wanted to touch her, let him. Maybe it would help her. She wouldn’t know until he tried.

Lucifer got to work on removing her clothing. First her shirt, which he gently unbuttoned and pulled over her head. She shook out the frizz that came with that and he smiled at her.

This moment felt so intimate, more than any of the last few times they had sex. The last time it was in celebration of an exam she got a near perfect score on and he praised her over and over again.

No, this moment felt almost virginal. She was in a bad place, and vulnerable to every word he would say. She realized this was almost like their first time, when he was gentle and slow with her despite her saying she had been with men before. But he didn’t care, because demons were not the same as human men.

She had been very shy then, but still a spitfire when told off. It was how she had always been. She was introverted at times, afraid to speak her mind in fear of rejection or failure, but then she was also adamant and spoke louder than any other on certain days and for certain things.

And with him, she could be innocent. She could be fierce. She could be anything she desired to be. He let her take control and let her be controlled whenever she wanted. Because she was a human and he was a demon; it was why he gave her a pact with him. To show ‘ultimate love’, Asmo once said to her. A pact from a demon was a bond not unlike love. It was, in fact, the greatest way to show it.

“Darling, pay attention now.”

Lucifer’s teasing voice had Mika startled, coming back from her thoughts. “Y-yes. Sorry.” She blushed.

He chuckled. “It’s quite all right, it’s positively endearing when your eyes glaze over as you think.”

His adept hands found her bra, hands stroking over her back and causing goosebumps before un-clasping, letting it fall and tossing it away. Her room wasn’t cold, Devildom never was really, but she felt her nipples harden instantly.

He stared at her for a moment, admiring the beauty of her pale voluptuous body, before he pushed her back onto the bed.

She went easily. Head cushioned by her pillows, she watched him lick his lips. His presence was calming, but had her nerves prickling in wonder at what he was going to do next. His uniform brushed against her nude upper half as he lowered his body over hers to kiss her mouth. The taste of him always made her feel lightheaded.

Her hands itched to touch him, but she kept them at her side, obedient. He always would tell her when she could touch, he had drilled that into her from day one, and she realized he probably wasn’t going to allow it today because he wanted to show her how much he “adored” her. She really knew him too well but that wasn’t something she would say aloud to him.

Lucifer was an amazing kisser, so much so that her thoughts were nonexistent as he licked against her lips before delving into her mouth. She focused on his vibrating hums tickling her lips, and listened to their soft moans melding together. He wasn’t overly gentle, but she had to press up against his mouth to feel a bit more of him, smell and taste him.

His hands found her breasts while he expertly used his tongue to brush against her own. He pinched her nipples, tugging the pert buds while cupping her tits with his bare hands—and when did that happen, fuck skin to skin contact was the best— causing her to exhale harshly into his own mouth as he bounced them a bit.

He leaned away for a second to say, “Ah, so soft in my hands.”

She squirmed. She was softer, and that meant fatter. “I know…” she said sorrowfully.

He pinched her nipple harshly then in reprimand, and she groaned, pushing her chest upward into the pressure. “No, darling. No.” He growled. “I love your body. Every single inch. And I meant I love how smooth your skin feels against my own.”

The hot mouth traveled down her neck, suckling more as it went, not enough to leave marks but enough to leave her breathless. He licked a line down from her neck which she happily bared for him. One hand left her breast to stroke over her waist, and in place of pinching fingers was his tongue and teeth. Tugging with fervor, suckling and getting her wet with his mouth. He blew against it, and she sucked in air, desperate sounding moans escaping her throat.

He moaned over her breast, his other hand squeezing her and flicking his thumb over her nipple repetitively. She felt it down to her toes and in her core, the tightness in her muscles from the attention. “This body is incredible, and mine to play with. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Mika whispered, head tossed back. “It’s yours.”

“And I do not lie, Mika. Correct?”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed.

“Then listen to me. You are beautiful. You are sexy. I want you to know that you deserve to feel loved, by me, and by your own self.” She cried as he abruptly went to her neck to bite nearly enough to make her bleed.

Sliding down her body from her breasts, he kissed and bit softly at her flesh, tugging here and there with his blunt teeth. Above her belly button he suckled a bit, and then slipped down more. His elegant fingers found her pants zipper to pull it down, and then he was having her lift her lower half to slip her pants off until she was only wearing her underwear, which were boxer style to help suck in her stomach. The band rested just above her belly button.

When he moved to pull down her underwear, Mika reached a hand down to stop him instantly. “Please… I…” She bit her lip, unsure. She felt amazing, truly he was making her feel so good, but this was… this was hard to do.

His eyes shone with nothing but kindness, and he spoke with a tender tone. “My love, I want to worship this body. Let me?” He kissed above her waistband, lips hovering and breathe hot against her skin. The sensation had her eyes fluttering.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want it. Because who would turn down Lucifer Morningstar? No one with at least one brain cell. Having his hands and mouth and tongue and dick anywhere on or in her was nothing short of a miracle, and that was where the problem lay. Her insecurities took hold of her tight, and started to push away any of the desire she felt like burning hot coals inside.

His dark red irises gazed up at her as he spoke, “I want to devour you.”

She shivered and moaned. He was so sexy. Her core was leaking with each second he kept position over her lower half, and he could no doubt smell its wetness. But would he find her gross to look at? She wasn’t as pretty anymore with her pudge and fat belly.

He stayed where he was, fingers lightly scratching over her body, up and down on her thick thighs. She had no problem with big thighs, the more to pull others in close when fucking she thought. But bellies shouldn’t be so pudgy, and hips shouldn’t be so squishy. Especially when you were already a bigger sized human.

“Mika. I’ll ask again.” He spoke in a husky tone, and his tongue dipped against her for a quick second like a cat lapping up a droplet of milk. He grinned devilishly. “Can I eat your pussy?” he asked, and pressed his palm right against her core, rubbing it up and down over her underwear.

“L-lucifer!” she cried out. Fuck this, she couldn’t deny anymore her neediness. Her wants for him. Her insecurities would have to wait a fucking minute for her to have a great orgasm from the Prideful Avatar’s mouth. “Yes!”

“Hm, good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

Her underwear was tore into bits in milliseconds, Lucifer’s demon claws being used of course. She had no time to react, as his mouth was on her and he was eating her like she was his last meal.

“Lu-lucifer, yes, so—Fuck!”

He lapped at her folds, and made lewd noises as he did so. He kept her open with one hand on her upper thigh, but realized soon that he did not need to and that hand went to play with her clit, index finger rubbing in circles, pressing down against it hard. Her legs had never spread so wide before as Mika gave him full access to all of her private area.

Mika’s hips buckled upwards, head rushing and static ringing sounds in her ears. The kisses to her mouth were nothing like what he was doing to her lower body. He licked over her in an oval pattern, tongue flat and then sharp and flickering like a snake. It danced over her clit for a moment and Mika bit her lip, but he soon focused on her entrance. He pursed his lips over it, humming and dipping the tip of his tongue into her just enough to open her up and make her gush into his awaiting mouth.

Lucifer’s mouth left you, and he suddenly pressed his fingers into her, Mika’s eyes watered and she cried out from the shocking pressure that was totally filing and fantastic. She clenched around him as he worked his two fingers in and out of her for a few quick bursts, then his tongue was pushing between the digits to open her more. His fingers and tongue worked together to get her ultimately wet and open, and he hummed some more, the vibrations of his sounds causing body spasms. The single finger on her clitoris rubbed back and forth demonically fast. She was stretched open so far.

“Ah! ‘S good!” She sobbed, limbs twitching, core tightening. She would come soon, but she held off, waiting. She was obedient for him, only for him. Permission was needed. She was in a totally different headspace, one she saved for these moments alone.

The finger on her clit turned into a thumb and forefinger pinching and rubbing together. His hand fondled one of her boobs, and she could smell herself from how close it was to her face. The musk made her wetter, if even possible. His tongue left her pussy and he licked over her labia while he squeezed her sticky tit, wet from her own fluids. She glanced down at him while she could, and saw his glimmering eyes and perfect mouth against her. His teeth found her clit then, and he licked and nibbled it, never picking just one sensation. She opened her mouth and let out soft puffs of air and shook her head back and forth from overstimulation.

She needed release. She wanted it so badly.

As if he read her mind, or maybe her body, he raised his head to say in a deep dark tone, “Mika, you may come,” before biting her clit and sucking wetly with fervor as fingers pumped in and out of her.

She convulsed on his mouth, legs pushed together enough to press him into her further. She moaned loudly as her orgasm spread over her entire body, sending shockwaves of pleasure.

Once she came down from the high, Lucifer moved away from her leaking pussy. He sat back on his knees between her spread legs, uniform looking perfect still. He licked his lips and smirked wickedly, fingers dancing over his plump mouth to suckle them. “My sweet tastes so sweet.”

She groaned. “Please no.” She threw her arm over her eyes. But admittedly, that was a hot image she would forever remember.

[whindsor]

gbbo au, part 1

i’ve been thinking about this for a whole year and now the au idea got even better so you know what, i’m just gonna do it, cause i miss mika and bucky A Whole Lot. this is completely self indulgent and unedited and just for fun. So here we go!

note: i’m not gonna add like, the real contestants on this season. cause like, they’re real people. and that’s a lil weird. 

another note: i have no idea how the competition is run, how the baking bubble works, or really what’s going on. i’m winging it and having a great time.

week one: cake week

This was, no doubt, the longest two weeks of her life.

Mika wasn’t sure how she, an expat from a little town in Romania, had gotten chosen for The Great British Bake Off. Or Bake Off, as everyone called it. Apparently, being in the UK implied the Great British part. 

Thanks to the stupid plague running rampant around the world, the contestants were invited to actually live at the Bake Off this year - at least, until they were removed from the competition. She hadn’t actually got to meet any of the contestants yet, since they were stuck quarantining in their little flats. They’d tested her when she’d first gotten there of course - negative, thank God - and every couple days since. She’d seen a few people leave under the cover of night, a car taking them away from the Baking Bubble. She wondered how many people were in the building, and if one day they would come in and tell her that sorry, you’re still negative for coronavirus, but you actually placed thirteenth in the ranking so you need to leave now. 

But then, she got an email. A wonderful, glorious email. 

Congratulations, Mika! You are a final contestant on The Great British Bake Off!

She wasn’t quite sure what it said after that - something about logistics and contacts and services and what not - all she knew was that she had to get to work. Now.

The next few days were a flurry of flour and frantic phone calls and internet searches, and as slow as the quarantine period had been, those few days flew by fast. She began to see inklings of other people then; one man got up and went for a run about the time she was sipping on her first cup of coffee. The woman next door practiced yoga on the balcony. At one point, a distinct burning smell emanated from the floors below her. They were all here, and all ready to bake.

She chose her outfit carefully. She needed to feel confident, but also comfortable. So she slid on jeans and boots, and eventually decided on a printed top her sister had given her, hoping it would remind her to just have fun. After all, Nicoletta was the one who signed her up for this in the first place, and was also the inspiration for her first Signature Challenge. 

Interviews were first. It was chilly outside, and just a little breezy, so she slid on a leather jacket. Her mother would hate that she wore it, but it was her favorite, and made her feel much cooler and more hard core than she actually was. Down the lawn, Morning Jogger was also in his interview. He looked rather calm and collected, with his flannel and man bun and hand tucked into his pocket. Lucky duck. She turned her attention back in front of her. The interviewer asked a few introductory questions to get her acclimated to the camera in her face; it helped if she just talked to him, rather than to the lens. He assured her that was just fine. 

“So, how are you feeling about starting the Bake Off?” he asked, finally getting into the nitty-gritty.

“Terrified.” she said immediately, giggling nervously after that. God, she hoped she came across as endearing rather than annoying. That road was a dangerous one to go down, so she took a sharp left. “But I’m so excited to finally get in there and see if I’m any good, or if my friends and family have been lying this whole time.”

That would be the nugget they used for her introduction. As expected, her mother wouldn’t care for it. But her sister thought she was cute and that her hair looked extra glossy, which was always a plus. 

She finally got to go into the tent, glad she’d chosen to wear sturdy shoes instead of heels because her legs felt like they were made of jelly. And not even the good jelly like she made - the jelly her friend Elena made, which usually ended up being more of a soak for toast. Morning Jogger was also there, stationed at the back right bench, tapping the fingers of his right hand against the butcher block surface. 

His left arm, however, was suspiciously missing.

Mika caught herself staring, her eyes flicking up to his before dropping with her chagrin. Get a grip, girl. It’s not like he was the first amputee she’d ever seen! Just the first on the Bake Off. She kept her eyes down as she went to her bench, which of course was right next to his. Dammit.

“Back of the class kids, huh?” he said. When she gave him a hesitant smile, he added, “It’s okay, I know it’s a shock.” His voice was quiet, but somehow still confident. She instantly knew that he was way tougher than she would ever be. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” she said, looking at him again and owning up to her mistake. He shrugged.

“It happens.” he said. He didn’t sound sad, or angry. It was just matter-of-fact.

“I’m Mika,” she said, changing the topic. “What’s your name?”

“Technically, James Barnes.” he said, then added, “But my friends call me Bucky.”

“Are we friends, James Bucky Barnes?” she asked with a perked eyebrow, amazed that she was able to flirt with someone at a time like this. Arm or no arm, he was very handsome. He smirked, apparently happy with her response.

“Perhaps not yet.” he said. “I guess we’re enemies for now.”

“Then are you ready to battle?” she said, trying to be extra dramatic in an effort to make his smile bigger. It worked. 

“I think I’m ready, but I feel like I’m forgetting something.” he said, glancing down at the place where he used to have another hand. She snorted in laughter once before covering her mouth with her hand.

“I feel like I’m not supposed to laugh at that.” she said, her voice muffled. 

“Please laugh, otherwise I’ll be too embarrassed to bake.” he said, his expression making her give in to the humor. Nerves also helped that, but she would never admit it. He gave her a conspiratory smile that she returned; now she understood how the contestants all seemed like allies. 

The other contestants trickled in, and Mika felt a weird sense of protectiveness every time people spotted his arm, or lack thereof. He took it all in stride; she wondered how many times a day he got looks like that. Of course, she didn’t have time to ask, because before she knew it, the judges and hosts stood in a line at the front of the tent, welcoming them all to the competition. She hadn’t realized that there would be a new host this year, and she was grateful that the hosts managed to break some of the tension in the room. Then, it was time for their first challenge.

Battenberg cakes.

Mika was not ashamed to admit that she had to Google what a Battenberg cake was. At first glance, it didn’t seem that difficult, but then she remembered that she was baking for two of the most respected chefs in the UK, and that she had literally no margin for error. That made it a little more difficult. 

They told her to bake, so she baked. She started whipping her butter and sugars, then added her eggs and flour and flavorings. She could see the judges and hosts making their way down the line, talking to the contestants and asking about their bakes. She tried to stay calm and collected, like Bucky next to her. His easy tone when talking to them helped to soothe her, especially when they brought up his obvious disability. There was no way their conversations would be the same, so she didn’t have to worry about comparisons.

“Hello there, Mika.” the female judge said with a grin. Mika gave the best smile she could manage, reminding herself to stay calm and somewhat focused. 

“Alo, how are you?” she said. Her accent was extra thick with her nerves. Dammit. 

“What have you got for us today?” the male judge asked after exchanging pleasantries. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to stumble over her words. She glanced over to Bucky, who gave her an encouraging smile. 

“Well, my sister has been my biggest champion, so this is for her.” she explained, dumping ground up freeze dried strawberries into half of her batter. “She loves strawberries and cream, so that’s what I’m making today.”

“Simple.” the male judge said, a little bit of surprise in his voice. Her stomach dropped to approximately her knees. It must have shown on her face, because the female judge patted her hand in a comforting manner. 

“As long as it’s done perfectly, it doesn’t matter how simple it is.” she said, winking behind her thick, bright blue glasses. Mika managed a hesitant smile.

“Right. Just perfection.” she said nervously, making them laugh. They bid her good luck and moved on to the next bench, the taller of the two hosts putting an arm around her shoulders and leaving an encouraging word before moving on. Okay, so all she had to achieve was perfection. That was fine. She shut out all the other distractions, barely hearing the time calls as they came. She focused on getting her cake in the oven, getting her marzipan nice and pink marbled, and making her filling. The cakes looked good when she pulled them out of the oven, and thank God they were done. Everything seemed to be going to according to plan.

“Twenty minutes left!” one of the hosts called. Shit! 

She quickly pulled her cakes from the tin; they were still warm, but they would have to do. She pulled her secret weapon - dental floss - out, and tried not to sweat as she cut the squares. She put them on the marzipan, put in her filling, and started the careful process of rolling it. When she managed to get the marzipan just right, she finally let out a sigh of relief. She glanced over at Bucky, curious as to how he was getting on. His movements were carefully coordinated and meticulous, and she noticed he used every square millimeter of his hand (and a little bit of his torso, which had a distinct line of flour and food coloring) to get things to move the way he wanted. Impressive. She turned back to her own work, whipping and piping some cream and artfully fanning out strawberries. With a minute to spare, she finished. 

Now for the judging. 

It was so stressful to watch the judges go from table to table, sampling the cakes and giving critique. Most of the contestants got glowing reviews, and only a couple had negative feedback. She held her breath when they got to her buddy in the back of the room, amazed that he could look so calm.

“Rosemary and lemon,” the male judge announced, nodding towards the cake. It was covered in a simple yellow marzipan, a few rosemary sprigs tied with a gold ribbon and placed on top. 

“An unusual flavor combination for a cake.” the female judge added, watching as the first judge cut a large square from the cake. The colors were a distinct white and yellow checkerboard, which was one of the requirements. Bucky shrugged.

“I wanted to try something different.” he said. 

“Bit simplistic on the decoration.” the female judge said, pushing the rosemary sprigs. Mika had thought it looked elegant, but she supposed that’s why she wasn’t one of the judges. 

“Decoration isn’t my strong suit.” he said, his grin widening at the vague look of discomfort they gave him. “I’m not particularly artistic. All left brain, I’m afraid.” That seemed to assuage their fears a bit, and they turned to the plates in front of them while Mika tried not to giggle at his jokes. They took a bite from the cake, both of their eyebrows raising as the flavors hit them.

“Wow. That is...surprising.” the female judge said. The male judge nodded. “The texture is just a touch tough, but for me the flavor makes it worth it.”

“Rosemary is very floral and usually does well with more savory applications, but it works really well with the lemon here. Well done.” the male judge added. They bid farewells, and Mika was so distracted by Bucky actually displaying an emotion (relief) that she forgot for a moment that they were coming for her. 

“Alright, Mika, your turn.” the female judge said. She had a very kind smile, despite her position.

“Remind us what we have here.” the male judge said. His gaze was very intense, and much more intimidating that when they spoke earlier. She cleared her throat, holding her hands together so they couldn’t see them shaking.

“Strawberries and cream, for my sister.” she said, keeping her answer short in case her English failed her. The female judge gestured to the bushels of strawberries and whipped cream all over the cake.

“This is a bit much.” she said. “I would have done the marbled marzipan or the strawberries, but to have both is a little...over the top.”

Mika’s stomach turned to stone. Now that she looked at it, it did seem a bit garish. She forced a smile and nodded. “Okay, yes, I see that now.”

“I like it. I enjoy extra snacks with my cake.” the host said, reaching out and pulling one of the strawberries off, making sure to take a large dollop of whipped cream with it before popping the whole thing - green and all - into his mouth. She was grateful for the humor, and for the bit of validation.

“Right. Let’s get to the cake then.” the male judge said, cutting a slice. Thank goodness the pink and white squares were perfect and distinct. First box ticked. She held her breath as they ate it, her vision starting to swim slightly when they finally looked at her.

“That is beautifully soft.” the female judge said, adding, “and the flavors aren’t overdone at all.”

“It’s very difficult to add freeze dried strawberries to a recipe and avoid a granulated texture in it.” the male judge said. “But you’ve managed to pull it off. I like this a lot.”

“I think I’ll have another bit before we go.” the female judge said, taking another forkful. Mika visibly sank in relief, her smile genuine this time.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” she said, slouching as soon as their backs turned. She glanced over at Bucky, who gave her a thumbs up. The gesture made her cheeks warm, and she returned the gesture before settling back on to the stool. Once everyone was judged, they were instructed to take a two hour break. Mika couldn’t help but hop over to the bench next to hers, a slice of cake on a plate.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” she said with a grin, making Bucky choke on a laugh. He cut her a slice as well, handing it over.

“I actually don’t really care for sweets. But I do want to hear what you think of this.” he said with a self deprecating smile. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t care for sweets? How did you make it then?” she asked, taking a large bite of his cake. Dammit, it was really good.

“I have a few reliable critics. What do you think of the cake?”

“It’s terrible. You should drop out.” she said, mouth full of another bite. “I’m definitely not terrified of you.”

He laughed again, and Mika thought that he had a very nice smile. She would have commented on it, but figured that would probably be weird after meeting just a couple hours before. So she just let herself be ushered out of the tent and into an open area, with lunch plates all waiting for them.

All of them were carefully spaced around an empty fire pit. Some of the other contestants had grouped up a little, but Bucky was sitting on his own, his plate carefully positioned on his lap and a book perched precariously on his knee. Mika chose the seat next to him, giving him a warm smile when he looked up before turning to her own lunch. She was sure the other contestants were nice, but she was drained after the morning, and the thought of having to smile and socialize was not particularly enticing. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through recent news and reading the articles that interested her. Bucky continued with his book, though she realized it had been a long moment since he’d turned a page. She glanced over to catch him looking at her, his eyes dropping quickly once she caught him. She couldn’t help but grin...and also make sure that there was nothing on her face.

All too soon, they returned to the tent for the technical challenge. This was what Mika was most excited about; she could follow vague directions (one of the few helpful skills her mother developed), and had decently good instincts. Usually. The judges and hosts lined up, and when she looked over at Bucky before they spoke, she made sure to throw another smile his way. He grinned back, which was a better confidence boost than the well wishes from the judges and hosts.

Pineapple upside down cake? She’d seen it once, on an episode long ago. She remember thinking it sounded delicious - and then promptly forgot everything about it. She could figure it out, right?...Right? She glanced to Bucky out of the corner of her eye, and the man was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Dammit, that was the look of someone who’d made this before. 

Whatever. She was smart! She had a degree! And she watched a lot of television! She could do this!

She started on the sponge, the easy part. It was the caramel she was worried about. The cameras stopped on her, the interviewer asking, “Are you familiar with this technical challenge?”

“I’ve heard of it, yes.” she said, giving them a nervous grin. It was still awkward to talk to the camera, so she instead focused on the man asking the question. “Have I made it? No. Have I eaten it? Also no. But it sounds good.” 

They gave her sympathetic smiles, moving on to talk to Bucky. She let out a breath of relief, knowing that now she could focus on the caramel. All she had to do was watch it. And pull it off at the right moment. And not let it crystalize.

Which is exactly what it did.

“Fuck a duck.” she muttered in Romanian, glad that she both hid in her native language and that the cameras were far away. 

“Watch your tongue.” Bucky said, also in perfect Romanian. She nearly dropped the pan of crystalized caramel, looking at him in shock. The cameramen noticed the movement, and carefully slid back to them.

“You speak Romanian?” she asked, shock evident in her face.

“Yes, I do.” he replied, and just hearing the language helped calm her in a weird way. The piece of home was exactly what she needed. He nodded toward her bench. “Fix your caramel.”

“Dammit!” Mika said, back in English now. She weighed out the sugar and water, putting it back on the stove. The cameras were still there, and the interviewer asked, 

“What was that about?” 

“He speaks Romanian! It’s very exciting.” she said, this time giving them a genuine smile. They quickly panned over to Bucky.

“How do you know Romanian?” they asked. He had a long knife in his hand, carefully resting the pineapple on the bench and managing to slowly, but expertly, cut it. 

“I’ve done a lot of traveling. I actually speak eight languages.” he replied casually. “Well, conversationally at least.” he added. He flipped the knife, laying it aside a safe distance away from them. The camera man gulped, and decided not to ask any more questions. Mika, realizing she should probably get back to her bake and not worry about Bucky’s life story, quickly turned to find, thank God, her caramel looked good. Pale, maybe, but good. It would darken in the oven for sure.

She carefully placed the pineapple and the cherry in the bottom of the greased tins, using a spoon to add in the still hot caramel. She had a fair bit left over, but she didn’t want to risk drowning the cake. So, she followed her gut and ladled in the sponge mix, putting them in the oven before she could think too much about it. Bucky, of course, was already pulling his out. Damn him. 

“Thirty minutes remain!” one of the hosts called, balancing a rolling pin on his head. She appreciated the humor, she really did, but she was very stressed right now and seeing a rolling pin in such a precarious position was not exactly helpful. She checked her oven; the cakes were probably halfway finished. There was no way they would be cool in time for her to put the cream...but she’d have to try. 

The last few minutes the cakes were in the oven, she whipped up the cream. If she was honest, she nearly overwhipped it into butter, but caught it just in time. As soon as the timer went off she got the tray from the oven, nearly sliding the tins off the edge. She gasped, nearly choking on her heart in her throat as she caught it just in time, placing the tray on the counter before putting her hand over her heart. 

“Slow down, Mika.” she said to herself, shaking her head for a second. Of course the cameras caught the moment - she could feel them pointed towards her - but she refused to look up at them. Her stress was through the roof, and if she was honest, she was trying very hard not to cry.

She started fanning the little tins, trying to get them to cool down enough to remove the cakes. “Fifteen minutes!” the host called, and she actually, verbally eeked and grabbed the closest cake. The cup was still ferociously hot, but she didn’t have time to think about burning off her fingerprints. Instead, she focused on getting the cakes out and onto the platter. The caramel didn’t darken like she hoped, but she didn’t have time to care. She was back to furiously fanning, trying to get it cool enough for the cream. She made the mistake of glancing over to Bucky - he was already putting little rosettes of cream on his, cool as a cucumber. Dammit!

“One minute left!” the host called. It was the moment of truth. She prayed her cream wouldn’t melt, swiftly piping it onto the little cakes. They smelled delicious for sure...would they be allowed to try one afterwards?

“Time’s up!” the call felt like a knife through her gut. They all had cream on them, but it was very hasty work, and definitely not her best. She let out a frustrated sigh, the little hairs that escaped her braid floating around her face. There was nothing she could do now, except wait to get judged. This time, the judges would not know who made which one...which could make their feedback all the more honest. 

“Well, well,” the male judge said, clapping his hands together. His eyes ran over the plates in front of him, his face already giving away his feelings. The female judge’s eyebrows rose over her thick glasses, as if she were surprised. Whether it was a good or bad surprise remained to be seen. “Right. Let’s get started.”

Mika watched in abject horror as they ripped apart every plate in front of them. The good ones were good, and the bad ones - luckily hers didn’t quite fit in there - were, well, bad. Bucky, of course, got glowing reviews. When they stopped at Mika’s, she held her breath.

“Caramel is too light.” the female judge said, poking at it with her fork. The male judge cut it in half, and even from a few feet away Mika could see that the cake was held together only by her dreams.

“It’s baked. Barely.” he said shortly, chuckling to himself. They took a bite, mulling it over for a moment until he added, “Not bad. If the caramel was a little more done on the stove and the cakes in the oven a couple more minutes, it would have been pretty good.”

Not bad. She could work with “not bad”. Hopefully. 

Out of the twelve bakers, she ended up placing seventh. Almost top half! Though she would have much preferred to place first (which was where Bucky placed), she really deserved to be much lower than her rank. At that point she seemed to be sitting in the middle of the pack, which was just as well with her. She just needed to get past the nerves of this first week. As long as she wasn’t the first one to go, she could do better. At least, she hoped so. Really, her goal was to make it to bread week. If she made it there, she would consider this adventure a success, and could go home happy.

The dismissal was such a relief that she forgot about the Showstopper challenge the following day. The bakers gathered their things, returning to the big house and heading for their apartments. Mika looked forward to a shower, some comfier pants, and one single stiff drink. She hanged back a little, waiting for Bucky to catch up to her. 

“Do you know where they keep the key to the liquor cabinet?” she asked, making him raise his brows.

“No, but I can pick a lock pretty well. And if that doesn’t work, I do have some whiskey in my rooms.” he said. He stepped back slightly, holding his hand out in a placating gesture. “Not that I - I mean, we can meet at a neutral place to share a glass, if you would like.”

Mika, not expecting him to get flustered that easily, busted out laughing. “You can relax. A drink would be nice, then maybe I can sleep a little before tomorrow.”

“I’ve got just the thing for that.” he said with a grin. He nodded towards the fire pit, where a groundskeeper was building a fire. “There, after supper?”

“Sounds good.” she said. A friend! She had an ally! She smiled, going to her rooms and rinsing off the day, cooking up a good enough microwave meal to keep her from dying and making sure any last minute preparations she needed for tomorrow were finished. Once she felt she’d waited an appropriate amount of time, she pulled on a jacket and went back downstairs. 

Bucky was already waiting at the fire pit, as were a couple other bakers. They were busy talking about the next day, and gave her a warm welcome when she arrived. Bucky looked up from his book, trying to hide his relief that she actually came to this little meet up. When she sat down in the chair next to him, he reached down and got a glass, handing it to her. He then retrieved his own glass and set it on the arm of the chair before getting the all important bottle of whiskey. She thought to offer to open it, but he wedged it between his legs and removed the cap with practiced ease. Clearly his injury was not new.

“Four years ago. War accident.” he said in Romanian, answering her unspoken question. Her eyebrows shot up and her cheeks warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the fire, but he didn’t seem to be bothered. He just reached out, filling the glass that she dumbly held out. 

“I’m sorry.” she said, not knowing what else to say. He shrugged, filling his own glass before recapping the drink and setting the bottle down.

“It’s fine. I’ve adapted.” he said, taking a sip. She did as well, if only to have something to do with her hands. “I’ve also learned over the years to just address it, rather than wait for people to be brave enough to ask.”

“Do a lot of people get brave enough to ask?” she said, genuinely surprised. Thanks to his easy going demeanor, she was able to relax into the conversation as well.

“Nope. But I do play this fun game with myself where I count how many times they glance at my shoulder during a conversation.” he said. With that admission, she had a strong desire to glance down at said shoulder, but stifled it. Luckily, the way his blue eyes danced in the firelight was distracting enough.

“Who’s the highest scorer?” 

“The guy at the local coffee place. Every time he looks up from the order it’s not at my face. It’s pretty impressive.” he said. “Kids are the best though. They notice and just screech about it.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh, yes. The parents are...” he paused, swishing his glass around and taking another sip for dramatic effect. “...so embarrassed.”

The whiskey, while not making her tipsy yet, certainly made her feel a little warmer inside, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m short a limb, I have to have fun with it otherwise I’ll lose my mind.” he said, smiling even though his statement was completely true.

“Well clearly you’ve got a handle on it, so I think you’ll be okay.” she said, gesturing to the tent. A second later, she realized that he might think her choice of words intentional, and her own hand flew to cover her mouth. “I didn’t - that wasn’t -”

Thank goodness Bucky thought her reaction was funny. “Don’t worry about it. It happens so much more often than you would think.” he said. He settled back into the chair, and decided to change the topic before they got too in depth about his lack of an arm. “So what made you apply for this?”

“My sister. She actually sent the preliminary stuff in for me - without telling me.” she replied. After a few years living in the UK, it was nice to talk to someone besides her mother in her native language. “You?”

“Best friend. He did the same thing.” he said. Mika scoffed appreciatively.

“They’re made for each other, the meddling assholes.” she said, making him laugh again. 

“You said it, not me.”

“I guess I shouldn’t assume your friend is an asshole.”

“Oh no, it’s completely fair to assume he’s an asshole.”

“Then what does that say about us?”

Bucky paused at her question, then shook his head. “Dammit. I guess we’re assholes too.”

His tone was so dry that Mika couldn’t help but bust out laughing. Of course, the whiskey also helped with that. She was a little over halfway through her glass - not enough to be tipsy, but still feeling it - and knew that she would have to stop after the one. Bucky was almost finished with his, but he held on to the last few drops, if only for an excuse to stay and talk with her. 

“But we’re assholes who can bake.” Mika said, toasting him with her glass. He tapped his near-empty glass against hers, taking just the smallest sip so he still had some left.

“Allegedly. We may find out tomorrow that we can’t.”

“You’ve already beaten me in both challenges. How in the hell did you make such good pineapple upside down cake?” she asked, putting just the right amount of incredulity in her tone so he would think she was kidding.

“I dated a girl from the South once, in America. You’d be surprised the crazy things they can cook up.” he said. Mika leaned onto the arm of her chair, resting her chin on her hand.

“Oh, that sounds like a story.” she probed. He shook his head.

“Nah, we had a good run and then it ended amicably. We were just in different places in life.” he said. “But way to pry about my love life on the first day.”

“It’s a gift, what can I say.” she replied, though she could feel her chagrin creeping up the back of her neck. 

“So how did your last relationship end?” he countered, noticing too late that he’d accidentally finished his drink. But that didn’t mean he had to leave. Mika let out a bark of a laugh, followed by taking a gulp of her drink.

“Terribly.” she admitted. His face dropped, and then it was his turn to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Don’t apologize, it’s all good now.” she said, just a touch too easily. “Cheating bastard is off in...Greece I think now, after being dumped by the other woman. And I’m participating in the biggest baking competition in the world, so I think I’m winning the break up.”

“That you are.” Bucky agreed. He eyed his own empty glass, as well as Mika’s. Were this any other time, he would offer another one. As if Mika read his mind, she gave her empty glass back to him.

“Speaking of which, we should probably sleep well before said competition, right?” she said. She didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to stay out here and chat with her back row buddy. But they did technically have a competition to worry about.

“It’s not a bad idea.” he agreed, taking the glass from her. He made sure the cap was tight on the bottle before pressing it and his book under his arm, holding the two glasses in one hand. Mika thought she should offer to help, but again he did everything with such ease that she figured he would not see the offer as help, but pity. And perhaps, at this point, it was. 

“Not my worst by far.” she said, standing up with him. They bid goodnight to the other bakers still out there, then went back inside, splitting off to their separate rooms. Now that she was alone, all she could think about was the next day. She should have just stayed out there, she probably would have been better rested than the meager sleep she got that night.

The Showstopper challenge was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Art was not her strong suit, so creating a bust of her favorite celebrity hero was something of a nightmare. The preparation required many trials, many failures, and many crying FaceTime calls to her actual artist sister, asking for help. 

But now she was in the tent, with no access to her cell phone and halfway through a challenge that might be her undoing. She’d claimed that she was making the likeness of Lady Gaga, and she’d chosen her both for the wonderful message she sang and for the good she was trying to do in the world. And also because the woman loved to dress differently and abstractly, which would maybe give her a bit of artistic license. Maybe. Hopefully. 

The cake part was easy enough. It was her favorite chocolate mocha cake recipe, with mint buttercream frosting. It was something she’d made a hundred times before, and since it went smoothly, it lulled her into a false sense of security. But now it was the time to decorate, which was no doubt the very worst part of all of this. She didn’t know how anyone else in the tent was doing; at this point, she was doing her best not to break down and cry. 

“How’s it going?” one of the hosts said, coming over and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, it could be worse,” she said, her voice wavering and her accent thick. ��But it also could be a lot better.”

“Mix the optimism with the reality, I dig it.” he said. “So far, it does look like...a human.”

“That’s a good start.” she agreed, laughing slightly.

“Which human is it supposed to be?” he asked lightly.

“Lady Gaga?” 

“Ah yes, I totally see it.” 

“No you don’t.”

“Well it doesn’t matter if I see it.”

“But if you can’t see it, how will the judges see it?”

“Stop being smarter than me and work on your cake.” he said. They stared at each other for a second before she gave in and giggled, shaking her head.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s the spirit.” he said, giving her a brotherly punch on the shoulder before wandering off. Okay, maybe she could do this.

“Half an hour left!”

There was no way she could do this.

But she was sure as hell gonna try.

She tried to remember everything her sister told her, and while she could definitely see the difference between what she was making and what it looked like in her mind’s eye, it was kind of, almost, slightly reminiscent of the pop star. When they called the time, she wasn’t completely happy with her cake, but she had to admit it went better than she thought it would. Of course, all that optimism went right out the window when she was called to bring her cake up to the judges. The silence as they took it all in threatened to smother her, and she took a deep breath to try and hold herself together.

“Well, I can see the Lady Gaga.” the female judge said, though she didn’t quite sound like she believed the statement.

“Or someone like it.” the male judge had to say, taking what little was left of Mika’s confidence and throwing it right out the window.

“She’s very eclectic, so I tried to emulate that.” she said, gesturing with her hands until she realized they were shaking, then clasping them in front of her so they wouldn’t notice. They laughed appreciatively, admitting that she wasn’t wrong. “I promise it tastes infinitely better than it looks.”

“Infinitely, eh?” the male judge said, piercing her with her eyes before piercing her cake with a knife. “And this is mint chocolate mocha, correct?”

“Yes.” she said, taking in another sharp breath before she passed out. It seemed to take them a thousand years to eat it, both of them raising their eyebrows in surprise.

“I expected it to taste like coffee and toothpaste, but it’s very pleasant.” the female judge said, taking another bite for good measure. The male judge nodded in agreement.

“It’s not something I would normally expect in a cake, but you’ve managed to pull it off spectacularly. The cake is tender, and the buttercream isn’t overly flavored. Very well done.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” she said, honestly lightheaded after the whole thing. She collected her cake, going back to the back of the room. Only then did she look up at Bucky, who gave her an encouraging smile and nodded towards her cake. She sent back an exaggerated relieved face, though she still wasn’t sure if she would make it past the first week.

Bucky was next, and though she didn’t know the person he’d chosen, she had to admit that his artistry was much better than hers. She supposed she should feel bad that he had clearly beat her in that category, but after their moment of friendship the night before, she found herself rooting for him. 

“This is impressive.” the male judge said, with an unspoken even despite your disability. She was glad they left that bit off. 

“Thank you.” Bucky said softly. He still exuded his quiet confidence, but she could see his thumb picking at a thread on his shirt. 

“And this is fondant?” the female judge asked.

“Marshmallow fondant. It’s a little more forgiving.” he said with a wry grin. They seemed to appreciate the joke, but not for long before cutting into the cake. It was a spice cake, he said. With cream cheese frosting. Since he didn’t care for sweets, Mika wasn’t surprised that he went for something like that. She also really wanted to try it whenever they got finished.

“Hm. I’m getting too much of...something.” the male judge said.

“Allspice.” the female judge agreed. Bucky’s shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, though his face hid any emotions. 

“The texture though is spot on, and the icing goes very well with it. Decoration was great. Just watch your spices.” the male judge said. Bucky nodded, picking up his sculpture and bringing it to the back of the room. 

“You’re fine.” she whispered, waving him off like of course he was. Then again, they liked his signature and he won the technical, so he really was fine. He gave her a twitch of a smile, settling back onto his stool to watch the rest of the judgements. They thought they might chill out when the judges went off to deliberate, but everyone just seemed more tense.

“Relax.” Bucky muttered, watching Mika pace up and down the back of the tent.

“Relax? How can I relax?” she asked. “My cake was decent, but I can’t decorate for shit and my technical was terrible!”

“You’re fine.” Bucky reiterated. “I’m not losing my back of the room buddy. I paid them off to pass you through.”

“Asshole.” she said, making him laugh. She paused. “Did you really?”

“I can’t afford that, I’m sorry.” he said, making her groan.

“I’m gone. I know it.” she said. She wanted to think that she was the middle of the pack, that she could make it, but she was also deathly afraid that she missed something.

“Well, let’s find out.” he surprised her, drawing her attention to where the producers were lining up their stools. Mika gulped audibly, following Bucky on numb legs and sitting down. She crossed her legs, pressing her hands in between them to hold them still. Next to her, Bucky positioned his leg so his knee was gently touching her thigh - a bit of comfort as they awaited judgement.

In the end, she was neither Star Baker, nor sent home. Relief immediately washed over her, her shoulders sagging as exhaustion from the past two days piled onto her. “Holy fuck.” she muttered, covering her face with her hands. 

“And we’ve got to do it again next week.” Bucky said. She dropped her hands, looking him dead in the eye.

“What in the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

[welllpthisishappening]

Mom’s Trip

The trade deadline is stressing me out. That’s it. That’s the reason for this. i have no idea how long it is or why it is or, really, what it is except using Rangers-provided content as fic inspiration. Special shoutout to @shireness-says​ and @eleveneitherway​ for both being like, “yes, make it Regina” when I was talking about this. Also, guys, please acknowledge that I turned the six on Mrs. Skjei’s jersey to a zero. 

Or: Ryan Strome’s mom told Artemi Panarin to get her kid the puck and my brain was like THAT’S A BLUE LINE THING. And then Mika’s mom wanted to hug her kid and my brain was like, SERIOUSLY, BLUE LINE. 

----

“Dad! Dad! Mom! Ma—c’mon are you actually here and just ignoring me?”

Emma glanced up from the computer in front of her, a paper-covered desk and plans for an event she was only marginally interested in. She heard the footsteps coming down the hall — more like a brisk jog, really, and that couldn’t have been good for his right thigh.

He’d blocked a shot the night before.

“Hey,” Matt said, almost out of breath when he skidded to a stop in the open doorway to Emma’s office. “Did you not hear me?”

“People across the entire island of Manhattan heard you.”

“Oh, wow. Scathing from the get, huh?”

“How’s your leg?”

Matt shrugged, a quiet noise in the back of his throat that only made Emma’s eyebrows pinch. “Ah, don’t do that, it’s—I’m fine…I mean, we won, right?”

“Sometimes it genuinely concerns me how much you are like your father.”

“Scathing to insulting in four seconds flat.”

“Were you not yelling for him too?” Emma asked, and she was ninety-six percent positive Matt hadn’t knocked. Not like he had to. In this house. The one he grew up in. With enough empty rooms now that Emma could have an office.

Matt let his head loll to the side — a far too knowing expression that Emma did not appreciate at all. She was the mom. She was the adult.

She was—

Her computer dinged.

“Whatcha watching?”

“What did you say?” Emma countered. “Don’t do that? Don’t do that.”

“We’re going in circles here,” Matt muttered, crossing his feet at the ankles. Like he was trying to hit a BINGO card of all the things that made Emma feel vaguely maternal-type emotions. Her computer wouldn’t stop playing the video.

Or she wouldn’t stop playing the video.

Whatever, semantics.

“How many times have you watched it?” Matt pressed. He took a step into the room, arms crossed now and one eyebrow arched impossibly high. “Just—you know, like ballpark it for me.”

“What are you doing here, Mattie?”

“That’s not an answer. Also, this is my house.”

“You do not live here, Matthew David.”

He stopped walking. And the other eyebrow joined the first. Maybe Emma would just slide out of her chair and lay on the floor.

That would hurt her back, probably.

Getting old was stupid.

Being jealous of Regina was stupid.

“Ballpark,” Matt repeated.

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” Emma said again, slower that time like it would make her sound more responsible. Or, at least less insane. She felt a little insane.

She’d watched the video so many times already.

Elsa had sent her ten text messages about it.

Ruby had written a small novel.

Mostly exclamation points.

Matt’s lips twitched, rocking back on his heels with wide eyes and genetically enhanced eyebrows. He didn’t get anything from her eyebrows.

“Yuh huh,” he drawled. “I’m going to guess somewhere in the twenty range, but that’s only because I can still hear it on auto-play and—“

“—The Flyers website is not as good as ours,” Emma interrupted. “It just keeps looping. So my viewing numbers are probably all skewed.”

“You know you can hit pause, right?”

“In theory.”

Matt laughed, crossing the rest of the space and perching on the edge of Emma’s desk. The video started again.

And, really, most of her reaction to the stupid thing was based almost entirely on surprise.

Because it wasn’t the first time Regina had gone on the mom’s trip with the Flyers.

Emma had gone with the Rangers — decked in head to toe blue and Matt’s jersey and Regina didn’t look great in orange, but no one really looked great in orange.

It was a thing.

A hockey tradition, even.

Except now the tradition included viral videos, apparently, pinned to the top of every Philadelphia Flyers social media page — Regina standing in the middle of the visitor’s locker room in Columbus with Mills-Locksley emblazoned across her back and the Flyers lineup in her hand.

She called out every name, all enthusiasm and a smile on her face as soon as she glanced Roland’s direction.

And when she turned towards the Flyers’ starting center.

Demanding he get Roland the puck.

Emma’s eyes flickered back towards her computer. The best part of the whole video might have been Roland’s noticeably pink cheeks.

Or, the way his head dropped to his gloves.

That was Ariel’s favorite part.

So half a dozen text messages Emma hadn’t answered yet proclaimed.

“I didn’t know Gina had it in her, honestly, Matt said. “The sweet is—“

“—Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Please don’t. I need my endorsements.”

Emma wasn’t sure what noise she made at that, but she resolutely refused to take responsibility for it, reaching out to rest a hand on her kid’s leg. He grinned.

“You might have some competition for those endorsements,” Emma said. “I bet in between scoring demands and—“

“—Rol did score. The group chat was very quick to point that out while he was whining about getting interviewed because of his mom.”

“What a rough life you children lead.”

“It does get a little aggressive, though,” Matt continued, “Get him the puck! Get him the puck! She’s got a lot of thoughts about Rol’s scoring potential, don’t you think?”

“Eh. She’s got reason to be confident. Legacy and all that.”

“You honestly think she’s working endorsement deals for Flyers guys?” Matt asked. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Any moment without trying to make connections is a moment wasted as far as Regina Mills-Locklsey is concerned.”

“Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that! Then she won’t have time to be annoyed by all the gifs I keep sending Rol.”

Emma clicked her tongue. “Stop teasing him.”

“I’m not teasing, I’m mercilessly making fun. Get him the puck! Get him the puck!”

“Got to shoot to score.”

“Top-tier cliche.”

“Mmhm. That’s definitely my MO.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed, mouth twisting slightly when his hand landed on Emma’s. “Why do you keep watching it?”

“Rubes has watched it more than me.”

“That’s because she wants to analyze the hits and the long-term reach of one thirty second video clip. Is Dad even home right now?”

“No,” Emma shook her head. “Did he tell you to come here?”

“Yuh huh. Why would you think that is? Exactly.”

She couldn’t keep clicking her tongue. She was going to sprain it.

Matt practically beamed.

“Maybe I’ll challenge him to a shoot-off or something,” he mumbled. “Interfering like this. Got to put the old man back in his place.”

“You’re really throwing out insults, aren’t you?”

“He planned this.”

“What did he tell you to get you here?”

“That he had film I needed to watch. Which is just—I’m sure he’s very pleased with his lie and ploy and—“

“—Good word,” Emma grumbled.

“I also think it’s nice you think it’s nice that Gina demanded one of Rol’s teammate set him up. And, I uh—“ Matt shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at the end of his mouth. “You don’t need to go all retweet to get me to come over here, you know. Or tell me shoot. On the mom’s trip or otherwise.”

“Good to know. And your dad and I are going to talk about not-so-subtle plans later. Taking advantage of my mom-type feelings and—“

There were more footsteps.

Emma rolled her eyes, Matt’s laugh bouncing off the walls of her office and making it difficult to hear Regina’s voice coming out of the shitty computer speakers.

Killian tossed his feet at the ankles when he leaned against the open doorway.

“Hey, Matt,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Matt groaned. “You’re not funny.”

“No other people on the ice during our shootout?”

“Do you not remember how shootouts work?”

“Grounded,” Emma said at the same time Killian did. Matt’s head fell to his shoulder.

“I was already reminded I don’t live here,” he argued. “And Dad should probably get in trouble before me, anyway. Lack of tact or a good plan or—“

“—I told you I had video you needed to watch,” Killian interrupted. “Where was the lie in that?”

“You think you’re very smart, don’t you?”

“Let your mom read the lineup on the next trip.”

“Is that my call?”

“Make it your call.”

“Please don’t mention that to Ruby,” Emma grumbled. “It will consume her every thought if she even starts thinking about the impressions.”

“Good word,” Matt echoed.

She flicked his side.

His eyebrows jumped.

And Killian looked very proud of himself.

“Something to think about, at least,” he said, across the office in a few, quicks steps and Emma tilted her head up on instinct so he could press his lips to hers.

Matt sighed. “Awesome, awesome, awesome. Is there food here?”

“You and your brother have got to learn how to feed yourself,” Emma muttered, but she was already standing up and Matt was already jogging back down the hallway and there was far too much food in the kitchen.

And she never did get around to telling Killian where he could stick his plans or his interference, clicking off the Flyers’ website eventually because there was a trip to get ready for three weeks later.

They didn’t reach viral status — a fact Ruby would probably never let Emma live down — because she didn’t actually read the starters, but she did—

“Matt,” another mom grinned after finishing the lineup. “Your mom wants to give you a hug.”

He laughed.

The locker room laughed.

Emma…kind of ran.

The arms that wrapped around her were a little tighter than she expected, but that only made the space around her heart clench a little bit, her chin hooking over Matt’s shoulder pads when he kissed her on the cheek.

“Try and score, huh?” she asked.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He did. Twice.

Which Emma made sure to mention in the slightly more adult, if even less mature group chat. Several times. Possibly a dozen times.

That night.

[thatsaweirdwaytospellundead]

Just a post about how I translate, a mini “making-of” post. If you want to know what goes through my head and why I make some decisions, I use one of my (in my mind) best lines to show this.

Hi so if you guys are familiar with my Zahra Travelogue story, there is a line that Mika says in Part 8. 

このような、まだまだ未塾な私ですが、もっと成長して誰に文句をいわれないくら派手な従者になってみせます。

1. Consider the set up: Scene, character voice, context.

Scene: In this event, the main plot is Mika feels incompetent as a servant. It seems the other people in the royal palace do not think he is worthy to be by Tangerine’s side. Mika decides to just run away without telling anyone. It is not until Guy talks with him, that Mika returns to apologise to Tangerine for worrying him.

Character voice: Mika speaks incredibly formally. Even amongst close friends, his tone is always formal, even if he does not use full keigo.

Context: Mika is apologising to Tangerine, his master. His words are from his heart, however he still keeps a formal speaking pattern. This is the climax of this story, so this scene is filled with emotions.

Overall: Mika’s tone is very formal and sincere, he is speaking from his heart. His words should make the reader want to cry because this is the first time we have ever seen Mika let himself be vulnerable. The words must flow like a river, Mika is very well spoken after all.

2. Translate the words as they are.

このような、まだまだ未塾な私ですが、もっと成長して誰に文句をいわれないくら派手な従者になってみせます。

With my previous actions, I am still very very inexperienced, but I will work harder and show you that I will become a servant so showy that no one will complain about me.

Things to look for: This is just a giant run-on sentence, which does not read well. I also look for words that sound awkward or do not carry the same meaning when directly translated. “いわれないくらい (to the point where people do not say), “派手 (showy)”, and “まだまだ (still still)”.

Also, Mika is very well spoken, so I need to make sure the translation sounds formal, proper, and most of all, contains no colloquialisms or casual phrases (aka. read like a formal decree or announcement). 

3. Change the words to flow better in English.

This is probably the hardest part. So I have already decided I am going to break up the sentence and because of Mika’s speaking pattern I think it would be alright if I reworded the whole thing as long as the overall meaning stays the same.

Mika’s main points are: 

> I ran away because of my own incompetence

> I will work hard

> I will become a servant so good, others around me won’t criticize me

> If you forgive me, you will not regret it. I will earn my keep.

With these points in mind, I pretend I am Mika and speak as if I am performing in a play. I guess it helps to have roleplaying experience, but if you have ever watched movies or tv shows, there are many monologues with this type of feeling.

What I got just from “roleplaying” Mika in this moment (this is what I said to myself out loud):

"I understand that my actions have only shown my inexperience. On my honour, I will work harder with more enthusiasm to become a proud servant by your side. A servant so grand that not a single person will question my worthiness in my position.”

4. Put everything together, read it outloud. Ask for a second opinion!

Since this line is like... climactic in the story, I actually consulted my fiance for his opinion. He does speak Japanese, but he reads a lot more books than me. Of course I don’t do this with every line, but this is the key line of the story so I wanted to make sure I got it right.

My tip! -> If I am stuck on a line or a scene just doesn’t “sound” right, I like to talk to someone else about it. Also, I will sometimes read the story in Chinese or talk about it in Chinese to get a new perspective. 

I understand that my actions have only shown my inexperience. Upon my honour, I will do my utmost to be able to serve you with pride and enthusiasm and become a retainer so capable that no one will ever be able to question my place at your side.

And that is how I do it! I go through each of these steps for every line I translate. The process seems long when I type it out like this, but in reality it is usually pretty fast. I spent a LOT of time on this line, so I wanted to share it with you guys. Thanks for reading till the end of this long post.

[geralehane]

A Faeverse Story: The Forest Queens

(faeverse is my new series of interconnected short stories about fae and their girlfriends interactions with humans.)

Fae hate iron. Fate love bargains. Fae want your name.

I was about twelve when I met my first fae. 

I ran away from home and into the Forgotten Forest – a bad decision to make, if you ask me. But I simply couldn’t stand my mother’s silent fuming any longer, and I just wanted to -- get away. To forget and be forgotten. That’s what the forest is for, isn’t it? In a way, I was a willing spirit for fae to abduct.

I wandered off deep into the forest and spend an hour aimlessly browsing through the trees. The forest is beautiful. Sun was shining through the leaves, illuminating them a shining brilliant green, and particles of dust swirling in the streams of light looked enchanting. That’s exactly the word.

I sat down on a tree stump, and I cried. I cried, because my mother didn’t love me, and I don’t think I loved her, either. I cried because there were no friends I could talk to about this, and even if there were, twelve year olds aren’t exactly equipped enough to deal with this kind of emotional turmoil. I cried, because I knew that I would end up going back to my broken home with its tense silence and my mother angrily washing dishes at me. I cried, because there seemed to be no escaped.

That’s when she crept out of the woods, her steps light, inaudible. She walked the way only fae could – almost levitating. And mesmerizing. Fae are, despite all of the danger and alleged people eating, magnificent creatures.

“Hey.” Her voice was light, too. Like wind, and sunshine, and the stream of a spring. All lovely clichés rolled together in one slender blonde-haired bundle standing before me.

I sprung to my feet and ran. Or wanted to run, really. Except I only ended up stumbling over a branch that wasn’t here before and scraping my knee as I fell down.

“Am I that scary?” Fae cocked her head to the right, studying me with her amused eyes. Emerald green. Just like the leaves with the sun shining through them.

I kept silent. Talking with fae, if you’re inexperienced at it, could end badly. On the other hand, what did I have to lose, really? My name? My life? None of it particularly mattered to me. None of it made me happy. So I stood up, dusted myself off, and looked at her.

She appeared to be the same age as me, but you never knew with fae, the immortal creatures they were. She could be a thousand years old and I wouldn’t know till she told me. She was a little shorted than me, and much, much prettier. Which isn’t that hard to be when the eternal magick of the Forgotten Forest and the spirits of wanderers lost feed your youth and beauty.

“So?” She got impatient with me rather quickly. Not surprising. “Am I that scary?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Not really. But I’m still scared.”

She stood, then, contemplating something as she studied me. Then, she sighed. “I won’t ask for your name. Don’t worry.”

“I can give it to you,” I said. For a second, I was enveloped by my fear; imagining The Feast of Fae, with a table full of every food I loved, beckoning me to eat something, anything, and never be able to return to the mortal world again. Imagining the endless dance. Imagining fading away into the sunlight, and the fae in front of me breathing my soul in.

I wasn’t sure that that was exactly how it went, but my twelve-year-old imagination pictured everything so vividly and beautifully that I didn’t want to know the truth. Perhaps, fae would simply gnaw on my flesh and bones instead while I danced away in a magically induced haze. Perhaps, they – or even her, in front of me - would wear my skin and come back to my mother.

“Careful.” Her quiet voice interrupted my train of thought that was about to take a rather gory turn. “It’s not something you want to say in this forest. Come on.” She gave me another long stare. “Follow me.”

I had already made peace with the fact that I was staying in the Forgotten Forest forever, so I simply did as I was told. To my surprise, instead of a sunny meadow and a dinner table, she led me back to the town border.

“Go. Don’t come back.” Her expression was serious, and it looked completely out of place on her young, ethereal face. “I can’t cross over the border, or I’d walk you home. But hey,” a tiny smirk appeared on her lips, then. “If you managed to survive an hour in the Forgotten Forest, I’m sure you’ll find your way back home.”

The words escaped my mouth before I even had a chance to thought them over. “What if I don’t want to go back home? What if I wanna stay here?”

“No mortal wants to stay here,” she cut me off, rather coldly. “Go before I change my mind.”

That was when my self-preservation instinct kicked in, and I ran. Mother didn’t even notice my absence, and I never told anymore about my run-in with fae. No one would believe I escaped her, anyway.

For a week after that, I waited. And researched. I read everything I could on fae, but the books didn’t offer much – only that they were trouble and you should never talk to them, or attempt to bargain. There were things I already knew ��� that they hated salt and iron and you could use that to protect yourself, should a stray fae wander up to your house. In the Forgotten Forest, though, that was virtually useless. It was their territory. The land itself gave them power. Or so dusty old books told me. I wasn’t that dumb of a kid to go to the forest again, but I also had enough anxiety that told me the border might not stop a fae that realized she let her prey go.

So I stocked up on salt and waited seven long, sleepless nights for her to come take me back. Yet she never appeared. I waited for confusing, luring dreams, but they never happened. I waited, and waited, and it was almost in vain.

Until the eight night, when I awoke to a silver moon and an annoyed familiar face staring at me through the window. Naturally, I screamed. Or attempted to, really, but fae waved her hand at me, and no sound came out. I could only watch, wide-eyed and terrified, as she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

Her next words, however, made me more baffled than scared. “What do you want?” She hissed, thoroughly irritated.

I blinked and gestured at my throat.

“You scream and I tear you apart,” she warned. I nodded. Huffing again, she snapped her fingers. “Now. What do you want?”

“N-nothing,” I stammered. “I don’t want anything.”

She glanced down at the window sill. “Salt? Seriously? I finally answer to your call, and you make it so I can’t get in?”

“My call?”

At my question, she narrowed her eyes, and studied me for a long moment. Her gaze ran over me, searching for something. And, clearly, she found what she was looking for, and she didn’t particularly like it. “If you don’t know about the call, how did you do it?”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, you don’t know.” She shook her head, incredulous. Her hair shined silver in the moonlight, and her eyes looked dark. “Don’t think about me. Forget you ever met me. If I cross the border again, it’s to kill you and burn your town to the ground. Do you understand?”

Oh, I understood. I frantically nodded, wishing for this all to be over so I could go back to my uninterrupted, boring small-town life. As soon as I thought of it, her face relaxed, and her expression became that of a relief.

“Good,” she told me, curtly. “Hope to never see you again.” With that, she stepped away from my window and ran. I didn’t watch her retreat. I jumped from the bed, closed the curtains, and poured another salt circle around my bed before climbing back in and hiding under the blanket.

I was wildly successful in not thinking of fae at all for several years. If I were more willing to start therapy, I would’ve been probably told that I blocked a traumatic experience as a defense mechanism. And I, once again, successfully avoided even talking about fae unless it came to studies, and I was the only one in my class to opt out of the Defense Against Fae class, which didn’t exactly help with my social standing as that quiet freak.

It was only at my graduation night that I was forced to think of her again.

Our class gathered at the house of our valedictorian, as was the long-running tradition. It certainly helped that our valedictorian came from an extremely long and equally powerful line of witches. Makes sense, really; children of ancient witch families were taught the craft earlier than they learned to walk. I, like many of other simple witches, only got to start on the witchcraft at the age of fourteen. Anything earlier was deemed potentially harmful. But old bloodlines didn’t care. And maybe they were onto something, too.

The fact that our valedictorian was from one of these families meant not only proficiency in magic, but wealth, too. Wealth meant owning a house that was more of a mansion, which meant a party for the ages. I had no idea how I ended up going there. The invitation stretched for everyone in the class, though, and I wasn’t all that looking forward to spending another lonely night in my room with my mother silently watching TV. I guess I just wanted to celebrate at least somehow. Do something to remember one of the most important days in my life.

It turned out to be both the worst and the best decision I’ve ever made.

When it was late and half the class had passed out in various places not really meant to passing out around the house and the other half got tired of excessive dancing and drinking, we all spilled out into the backyard to gather around the fire. Another tradition. I stood a little behind, silently sipping on my wine and watching everyone joke around and exchange promises they likely won’t keep. Until it got quieter, and the main fae expert of our class, Sam, noticed me.

“Hey,” he addressed me, with a tiny bit of slur in his words. “Hey – Mika, right?” His pupils, dilated and sparkling, told me he’d been sipping on potions that night. That didn’t help me at all. I wondered if I should translocate to my house. That would be too dangerous for a novice like me. I could always just run, though.

“Yeah, Mika,” he nodded and beckoned me to come closer and sit on one of the logs that served as chairs around the crackling bonfire. “I always wanted to ask you. Why are you so afraid of fae?”

“Why aren’t you?” I replied quietly. Every pair of eyes watched me as I slowly sat down.

He shrugged. “Why would I be?” The on-going question ping-pong did nothing good for my anxiety. I took a deep breath and shrugged back at him, clearly indicating I wasn’t interested in continuing with this conversation. But he wasn’t done. And not just him. Reana Griffin, the valedictorian, watched the exchange with unhealthy interest.

“No, seriously,” Sam continued coking his head to the right. Just like – no. I gulped the remaining wine down, shutting the thought down. “You didn’t take the Defense class. You never talk about them.”

“I never talk about anything to any of you,” I reasoned.

Reana smirked. “Then why are you here?”

I didn’t have an answer to that, and I was all out of wine to gulp.

“Come on, tell us,” Sam said loudly. He spilled some wine on his tailored pants, and didn’t notice. “Something happened, didn’t it? Did they kill your father?”

“Sam,” one of his friends, a guy I didn’t remember the name of, shushed him disapprovingly. “Too far, man.”

“No one killed my father,” I said, clearing my throat. “He was just... never there. I don’t really…” Why was I even sharing any of these with those people? I glanced at my empty glass. Right.

Everyone kept staring at me. Witch unions were supposed to last forever – literally, in some cases. Divorce was unheard of. One of the many reasons I didn’t really have friends. Everyone speculated that my mother got rid of my father, or that I caused him to leave, somehow.

“So you don’t know your dad?”

“Wait, I wanna know what’s up with her and fae first,” Sam interrupted.

“Nothing,” I said. Nothing was up with me and fae. I was afraid of them. I couldn’t think of them. It inevitably lead to thinking about her, and what happened that night, and what did she even mean by my call? And why did she save me – and did she even save me at all, or did I make it all up in my lonely mind of a lonely child to escape the reality of being utterly, truly alone?

I blinked and felt something wet drip down my cheek. Great. Now I was crying in front of these brilliant, wealthy, confident morons. Truly a way to end the night. I blinked faster, and the tears kept coming faster, too. I couldn’t bear to watch their faces twist with pity, so I pointedly looked past them, far eat. In the direction of the Forest.

It probably shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see her standing there. She grew up, too, as I did. Her hair was longer, and it still shone silver under the moonlight. She stood mere feet away from where we were all sitting, and her smirk was as warm as it was annoyed. At first, I thought she was just a result of my desperation and blurry vision. But, when I wiped the tears away, she remained.

“I’m surprised it took you this long,” she told me. Everyone turned around, and then scrambled to their feet, cries of surprise and fear filling the air. I didn’t move. I simply watched her as she walked to me, her bare feet barely touching the ground.

“So am I.” There was something different about meeting her this time. There was no fear. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not anymore.” She outstretched her hand. “Come.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me and burn this town to the ground?” I asked, then, allowing myself a small smile as I stood and took her hand. Warm. And soft. It promised forever. So I accepted.

And she led me away; away from my gawking classmates and my small town and my dim future; away from my previous life that seemed so dull in comparison with the bright green of The Forgotten Forest. We crossed the clearing that separated the town and the woods, and I didn’t ask why The Forest was suddenly illuminated by sunshine, just like the way it was when we first met. I just watched, and breathed the warm summer air in, and smiled.

“It’s yours now,” she told me, quietly, as we stood before the unseen border. “All of it.”

I looked at her. “Do you need my name?”

“No. No,” she shook her head, and let out a small, melodic laugh. “But you don’t need it, either. You can find a new one. I can give you a new one, if you want. Or you can go without any name at all.”

I thought of it, and the last option seemed the best. Later, perhaps, we’ll come up with something together. Now, I just wanted to be.

And so I smiled wider, and grasped her hand, and led her over the border, into the emerald depth of our forest. patreon

[angstars]

Let’s add Valkyrie + Leo and Akiomi (if you’re comfortable and the reader is an adult (maybe another teacher or his spouse?)) to the suggestive train!

oof omg this train is getting famous!! its on such high demand, i got so many suggestive positions to fill up too!! might make a special section for it in the master list! thanks for making the request and i hope you enjoyed reading this!

And remember, get calcium!♠

Shu

An upcoming shoot for Valkyrie was set and Shu was cooping himself up in the club room, sewing and making clothes that’re perfect for the theme. He said he didn’t want his creativity to be interrupted, and so you barely had the chance to see him or talk to him, constantly kicking out whoever came by the door.

You found your courage again in one of the evenings, to seek him out for some fresh air and sunlight, and most importantly, his presence.

You knocked on the club rooms’ door, and sighed when you received no reply. As usual, too involved in his own world to notice his surroundings. You excuse yourself into the room, opening the door and closing it behind you to find Shu hunched forward his work desk, doing some final touch ups to what seemed to be a dress.

You found that to be odd, as you thought it was strictly Valkyrie photoshoot; and clearly mademoiselle is not that huge.

You slowly approached him, and thanks to the carpeted floor, he didn’t hear your footsteps all that well either, and flinched in surprise when you tapped his shoulder. He glared at you, unamused by the small unintentional ambush.

“How many times have I told you not to come in and disturb me as I work? You also frightened me there, what if I was doing any sewing work? I could’ve damaged the garments!” He huffed, throwing his usual tantrum about his clothes and efforts, though you guessed in this situation it was warranted, given that working on outfits wasn’t easy, and ruining it now would’ve been rather deadly considering the photoshoot is tomorrow.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly mumbled, bringing your hands forward and intertwining them together nervously.

He stared at you for a solid minute before sighing, standing on his feet. “Actually, it’s good that you’re here, I need to test this uniform.”

He picks it up from where it was laid down and wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards a secluded corner that you can use to change. As you two walked he talked on and on about the efforts and designs he implemented in the dress; describing it’s artistic merits and so forth.

To be honest, all that was white noise, for you simply stared on at the shadows under his eyes, deeply filled with concern at his lack of sleep, sun light exposure and - what frightened you most - his meals.

“Are you even listening?” He snapped. His harsh tone broke you from your thoughts as he glared down at you, “what I’m saying is important.”

“Shu…sorry, I know you’re into this… all of this,” you gestured around the room with your hands then sighed, shaking your head slightly as you faced him again, “but…look at you. Passion isn’t supposed to be ruining your health like this!”

He didn’t see your little outburst coming, but he simply huffed, handing you the dress to change. While he waited for you, arms crossed as he brooded on his chair, he wondered why your scolding earlier bothered him so much. Perhaps there was something underlying under that fit, something that was on your mind that was rendering you ticked.

You emerged from your hiding spot to allow him to appraise the dress in a better light. He walked around you, paying attention to the small details, and you’ve never felt so small. You blushed as he held you close, pulling you by the hand to press you against, and you heard a small chuckle resound from him.

“Aren’t you like a doll? Frail, gentle, pure…exactly like one.” He smiles to himself, proud of his own work, “the dress suits you. I’ve done a good job,”

You only realised it now, but he was dressed in his attire as well, and you couldn’t help but notice how well you two matched.

“Thank you…you look wonderful as well.” You smile shyly, “you look like an orchestra conductor.”

He grins at that compliment, his cheeks undeniably turning a bit rosy. He gripped your hand tighter and began to walk backwards, pulling you along slowly. You’ve basically stroked his ego, who knew if that was a good thing.

He sits down on a chair that he was aiming to sit on from the start, and you tugged on your arm, making you sit on his lap. Your breath hitched in your throat as he practically made you inappropriately straddle him, your heart pumping painfully in your chest at the close proximity. You’ve been so detached from him, you forgot how it feels to be held by him, to be this close to him.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, cupping your cheek and turning your head to make you look at him, as he whisked some hair strands away from your face.

“Oh Shu…you don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” you matched his hushed tone, hands trailing up his chest, “kiss me.”

He smiled coyly, bringing you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed, then snapped open at the sound of the door lock opening. You gasped, turning your head around to gaze at the intruder.

“Aoba.” Shu greeted, though his voice was dangerously low, almost growling. Was he upset at the interruption?

“I-I’m sorry,” the boy faltered, swallowing visibly, “I’m sorry Shu, I just - I wanted to see if you’ve completed the costumes for a test photoshoot.”

“I have,” Shu motions to stand up, and you get off his lap, fixing your dress awkwardly as you avoided eye-contact with the boy who probably heard too much, simply finding interest in staring at your shiny shoes.

As Shu was brought back to work mode, he guided you out of the room to follow Tsumugi to the photoshoot room. You stared at his broad back as you followed, wondering perhaps if he was agitated in the slightest to be seen in that position.

You also forgot to ask him why he made you a dress in the first place…

Mika

“This one, or this one?”

You waved the pink teddy bear in one hand, and the blue teddy bunny in the other, showing them to Mika to see which he preferred. You decided to help Mika with his exercises when it came to designing clothes, starting with bringing in different themed objects with different colours and letting him decide on a certain outfit that matches said object.

Today, you decided to help him in the aspect of creating ‘cute clothes’, using fluffy teddy bears as the medium.

“Nnhh...nnhh..” Mika scrunched his face in thought, eyeing both the plushies in your hand with deep contemplation.

“You don’t have to make weird noises when you think,” You snorted, watching him as he patted his chin with his index finger, still pondering about the choices, and ignoring you completely as he continued to make weird noises.

“Nn! I just can’t decide!” He huffed, rubbing his head with his right hand, and sighed, “I’ll take both!”

“Huh? No! Only one!” You pouted, “you can do the other next time!”

“I just can’t decide on one right now, let me have both!” He argued, reaching for the two toys in your hands and you leaned back to avoid him grabbing them.

“Nuh-uh, it’ll be a mess! Just pick one theme at a time!”

Then it occurred to you than maybe this will be going nowhere, so without warning, you quickly placed the pink teddy bear in front of him on the table.

“Here, you’re working on this one first!”

“Huh? Hey,” Mika whined, pointing at the blue bunny, “what if I decided on that one?”

“Hardly! You wanted both so I just went ahead and put for you the teddy bear, you can use the bunny on the next exercise.” You explained, smiling confidently.

Mika wouldn’t have it however, calling that nonsense and jumping up to grab the blue bunny. He was stubbornly determined to get both of them and work on two designs, he unfortunately just had a hard time conveying what he wanted into proper words, which just caused misunderstandings.

You simply thought he wanted the two teddies for one costume.

You sprung up from your seat when he tried to grab it again, hugging the plush tightly. “Come on, we wasted enough time thinking over which teddy to choose! Just use that one,”

He immediately gets up from his chair, walks around the table and tries to grab the teddy from around you. The two of you continue to be stubborn, as you hug it away from his prying hands and he tries to catch it while standing behind you and leaning forward, trying to grab it from right or left.

He was just so determined to get both!

Pressed against you from behind, leaning slightly forward, you were a giggling fit and wiggling about to release yourself from his grip as he tried to grab your arms and loosen them from the teddy.

You were going to try and duck down under his left arm to run, when he wrapped it around your waist, grinning and laughing softly, feeling rather thrilled from this little childish game. “Gotcha! Nowhere to run!”

“Hey let me go, you’re tickling me!” You protested, trying to reach for his hand to rip it off your stomach.

“Aha!” Mika acts quickly and grabs the teddy from the right, trying to pull it in one go, but it still won’t be released from your iron grip. “Hey, you’ll tear it, just let it go!”

“Go easy then!” You huffed.

Oh how the conversation sounded so wrong out of context. Yuzuru stepped into the room to investigate what was the cause of all the commotion, to freeze at the door when he sees Mika pressed against your curved back.

You two turned to eye him with mortification, turning like statues as you just stood there, not knowing what to say. From his angle, did he even see the teddy bear?

Mika stuttered, and came to speak, when Yuzuru just simply walked backwards, closing the door as he stepped out, not uttering a single word.

Mika groaned, slamming his head on your back, and you were silent, just pressing your lips together in a thin line and nod faintly. Well, that definitely did a dent on your reputation.

Leo

Your boyfriend was humming and scribbling about through his notes, probably going through the composing process of a new song.

You watched him, sitting on one of the desks and swinging your feed as Leo laid down on the floor, papers messily sprawled around him as he wrote his ideas down using colourful crayons. You didn’t really get it much, but it did the job right? Besides, he wouldn’t really be Leo if he wasn’t his eccentric self.

He promised that after he finished, he’d take you out for ice cream. You were anxiously awaiting the moment he was done to get going, and silently prayed that he doesn’t invite his sister or any of his friends along, hoping for some privacy.

Out of no where, Leo jumped up from the floor in a cheer, screaming that “it’s finally complete! I did it! It’s finally ready! Yahoo!”

You laughed at the sudden upbeat behaviour, but you shouldn’t be as surprised, yet it did take you off guard and scared you like a jumpscare. Leo kept jumping, and reached for your hands, pulling you up from your seating position to your feet.

“I did it! I got the perfect song down!” He exclaimed.

You laughed at the cute purity of that statement, “you did it Leo!” You jumped along with him, cheering and laughing together. From an outsiders view, you two must’ve looked like a bunch who lost their mind.

But to him, this moment alone together meant the whole world to him as you two revelled together in sheer joy over something he made from scratch.

You stopped to catch your breathe fast, “so- does that mean we can go get ice cream now?” You grinned, hoping to hear the response you’ve been waiting for.

To your pleasure, he nods his head, “Mhm! As promised, let me just clean up!”

“I’ll help you, it’s faster that way!”

You two began picking up the scattered papers, then stacked them into one pile in your arms. You aligned them well together by tapping them over the table on each side then turned to Leo, handing him the papers.

“All done!” You grinned, placing both your hands on your hips proudly, tilting your head slightly, “ice cream?”

“Ice cream!” He cheered, leaping forward towards you in joy. He must’ve miscalculated the strength he used to launch himself at you, as he knocked you backwards, and you weren’t able to quickly catch your balance due to a chair being in the way, hitting the back of your knees and sending you flying down.

Leo toppled over you, legs hanging on the chair as his weight crushed you down on the floor, impact rendering you both choked up from all words. You shrieked as Leo’s face fell on your chest for a brief moment before he sprung up, lifting his upper half with this arms as his face burnt red.

“I-I’m so sorry!” He apologised louder than necessary, almost screaming the words out as his mind probably exploded on the inside into haywire.

For some reasons beyond you, you burst into a fit of laughter, finding this way too bizarre of a moment, and the sensation that bubbled inside your stomach at chest tickled as he lay atop you.

The moment didn’t last much however unfortunately, as someone was bound to hear the yelling and screaming from outside, Izumi stepped into the room in a rush.

“What’s going on- Ou-sama?!” Izumi screamed, his expression reading sheer horror and disgust, “what on Earth are you doing?! Please tell me this isn’t how you get your inspiration from!”

“No no! I’m innocent!! Gaahh!! I already finished the song!! Sena wait!” Leo tried to scramble up quickly, but couldn’t due to the awkward position of being stuck between your legs thanks to the chair.

You really weren’t a big help in the situation when you were just laughing and squealing when he tried to move.

Akiomi (s/o is an adult + his spouse)

Your husband often times had to rush things and forgot important stuff you’ve packed for him, like his lunch today.

You decided to drop by to quickly give him what he left behind at home before heading to your own errands. Stepping into the large facility of a school always dumbstruck you; the building was far too huge for its own good that you were constantly afraid of getting lost.

Walking through the hallways, you came across some bright and lively students who delightfully answered your questions. “Kunugi-sensei is in the teachers room!”

You headed towards the directions the students gave you and opened the door to see your husband seated at his desk, going through his bag, seemingly searching for something. To your relief, the room was also empty, with just him occupying it.

You stepped in and closed the door, and the noise caught his attention as he gazed up. His eyes widened, shocked with your presence being in here; he even blinked twice to see if he was dreaming.

“Honey, what’re you doing here?” He stood up, about to approach you when you closed the gap between you both first.

“Sweetheart, relax, I just got you lunch, you forgot it at the table.” You explained, placing a hand on his shoulder to ease him while placing the bag on his desk. His tense muscles loosened, expression softening as he smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, I was just looking for it actually.” He took his seat again, losing all the alert that he was on a few moments ago. You giggled at that.

“You really should stop assuming bad things have happened whenever you see me randomly show up,” You playfully berated. He hummed, taking out the contents from the plastic bag.

“Eat with me,” He offered, turning to face you.

“Huh? What? No - I must get going anyway,” You blushed, taken aback by the sudden request, he was never one to command such an act in public at all. You came to make your leave when he grabbed your wrist quickly. You wouldn’t know that what inspired this behaviour was an earlier conversation he’s had with another teacher.

Not showing affection as often, will make your partner think you don’t love them.

He wasn’t going to risk such a thing.

“Come on, it’s just lunch and you’ll be off.” He insisted, looking up at you with an expression that played with your heart strings. You sighed, conceding, and elation sparkled in his eyes.

You didn’t expect his next move as he pulled you to sit on his outstretched leg, the other under the desk. He wrapped his arm around you, before you can even protest.

“A-Akiomi, what’re you doing?!” You squealed, “we’re not at home! We’re in a teachers lounge, not the living room!”

“I’m aware.” Was all he said, as he picked up the sushi with his chopsticks and positioned it in front of your lips to eat.

You were disconcerted with the uncharacteristic public display of affection he was showing you, and hesitantly opened your mouth to allow him to put the sushi in your mouth. He watched you chew on it slowly with intense eyes, this was all too awkward.

You smiled shyly, “uhm...thank you, but this is your lunch, you should eat too.”

You snatched the pair of chopsticks from his hand and grabbed another piece, offering it in front of him and he takes it. This was new, but you weren’t going to object against it, it was nice.

For a few minutes, it proceeded with you two feeding each other. There were a few pieces that Akiomi dipped in sauce and gave you to eat, smearing some of it on your lips. Blushing, you reached for the tissue box that was in the corner of his desk when he acted quicker than you, wiping it off with his thumb and bringing it up to his lips, sucking it with a look of suggestive eyes.

You must’ve squeaked, just staring at him with wide eyes at what just happened. He’s never done this, what’s gotten into him. He shifted his leg upwards, making you fall forward.

You quickly caught yourself and stopped the fall by gripping onto his shoulders, and stared at him in disbelief as he smirked down at you. He must’ve wanted to go further, if it weren’t for the door loudly sliding open with a bang.

“Kunugi-sensei! I got you the homework you asked for!” Madara laughed uproariously as usual, waving the stack of papers about over his head. He seemed to catch on the moment you two were on as he froze on the spot and grinned, though you weren’t sure if it was nervously or teasingly, “oh sorry! I must’ve been so very rude, interrupting a husband and wife like this in a heated moment! Just ignore me!”

“Mikejima, you-”

You didn’t let Akiomi finish berating him as you abruptly stood up, mumbling an excuse and reaching for your bag, quickly storming out of that room and avoided looking at anyone’s face.

You’ll have a talk with your husband later.

[ahomeganeyatsu]

Because I needed to write something after I saw that couch in the common room.

— Rn

Title: Another Wednesday

Pairing: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant

Word Count: 1, 534

Lucas steps into the common room with a bit of trepidation. The curtains are drawn, bathing the room in a state of dimness. He spots the white sheet covering the floor near the wall where the god awful mural still remained. The cans of paint, still unopened, sit where he had left them last time. It’s been a week since Daphné had told the headmaster they were repainting the mural and the lack of progress isn’t sitting well with her. She finally put her foot down last Tuesday and pestered Lucas about the damned thing. He didn’t understand why he ended up being the target of her ire. Eliott should be at the receiving end of those disapproving eyes as much as he was. He was the one that offered to repaint the mural. Lucas was only the smitten fool that wanted to spend time with him.

It’s probably because she has a crush on him, he thinks with a little frown. He can’t exactly blame her. Eliott’s a handsome guy—drop dead gorgeous really. He’s the kind that never failed to catch anyone’s attention. His beauty bordered on surreal and with the accompanying gentle and friendly disposition, he’s bound to gather the interests of girls and boys alike. Lucas still couldn’t believe he had actually kissed him. Had Eliott sleeping on his bed, had held and been held by him, and knew how his touch, his lips, his skin, tasted and felt against his own. He feels the skin just at the base of his nape tingle. The memory making way for a blush to steal itself on his cheeks. He remembers the looks that Mika and Manon had exchanged and couldn’t help the groan slipping past his lips. The blush intensifies and the desire to hide his face and never show it again rears its head.

Lucas knows that they know now. I mean, when you see a guy comes out from one of your roommates’ bedroom and said roommate walks around with a large bruise sucked on his neck a few hours later, insists that they were good friends and becomes defensive without any prompting, there’s only one logical inference you would make. Honestly, he should have checked first if Eliott had left any marks before braving the outside world. He wouldn’t have ended up looking like an idiot then. The only silver lining he had was the fact that Manon and Mika hadn’t mentioned anything. Which, really, is more than Lucas could ask for.

And with Eliott’s continuing absence, Lucas just isn’t ready to talk about it.

He’s not sure why he hasn’t messaged Eliott. He has his number. He could just open up his Telegram and send him a quick message. Ask how he was doing, see if he was free to hangout, tell him how he much he misses him and wants to see him badly.

But he hasn’t. He couldn’t seem to make his fingers tap out a simple message.

Ever since he woke up that Saturday afternoon, all he did was lie in bed, listen to music and stare at the opened conversation with Eliott on his phone. He waits. And waits. And waits. But the screen doesn’t change.

No new message appears.

Eliott remains absent.

The glowing warmth inside his chest dims and slowly ceases to exist. He feels numb all over. The hours he had spent with Eliott feels more like a dream more than anything. He aches but all he could do is stare sightlessly at his ceiling. When night came, he gave the room back to Manon. He wasn’t that bothered when they stayed late in the living room watching TV. He has long recognized the sign of a sleepless night.

It’s been four days and sleep still proves itself elusive. So far, the only rest he got was a couple stolen minutes in between classes and the small hours in the early morning. It was finally getting to him, the exhaustion settling deep in his bones and accompanying him the rest of the way. He doesn’t want to stay in school for much longer. In fact, he wanted to at least grab a few hours on his bed. Manon had insisted he use it and Lucas was too damn tired to argue. Unfortunately, Daphné had other ideas.

Which is how he found himself standing in the middle of the common room on a Wednesday afternoon. Daphné wanted the mural repainted and she wasn’t taking any of Lucas’ excuses anymore. He would have admitted by then that he had lied and had no fucking idea how to paint—unless you counted the several articles he had read on mural painting and the point-by-point wikiHow article on repainting a wall (He has them bookmarked but no one needs to know that). But by some chance, or divine orchestration if he were to believe in such a thing, his phone pinged of a message received that Tuesday. And lo and behold, it was from Eliott.

Are you free Wednesday at 13h?

Daphné wants us to start on repainting the mural, preferably this week.

Lucas had no idea how to feel. He had stared at his phone for several minutes. Just reading and re-reading the message. He remembered the first time they scheduled meeting up in school. Remembered sitting there and waiting for more than an hour, only for Eliott not to show up. The disappointment weighed heavily in his stomach, the anger at himself biting and burning and the hurt pierced his heart like a million tiny needles. But he also remembered the sight of Eliott with dark bruises under his eyes. The sound of his raspy voice. The state of his hair from messily styled to a clear representation of his anxious hands. He could vividly see Eliott’s subdued self, along with the sincerity in his eyes and the little smile on his face as he asked Lucas for forgiveness. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Eliott, but Lucas knew he at least deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt.

There was also one thing he was indubitably certain of: He wanted to see Eliott, badly.

So, with shaking thumbs, he typed out, “Yeah, I’ll see you then,” and sent it. Eliott replied with a picture of a raccoon, looking happy and sending out a flying kiss. Lucas couldn’t stop the smile from etching itself on his lips.

Like that Wednesday, Lucas arrived half an hour earlier than the stated time. He was hoping that Eliott was already there but sadly, he wasn’t.

It’s been five minutes since and the exhaustion from his lack of sleep is making itself known. Lucas knows he’s fighting a losing battle with his eyelids. His mouth cracks open with a yawn and tears slide down from the corner of his eyes.

“Fifteen minutes,” he mutters to himself. That should be enough for a power nap. He makes his way to the couch. He’s thankful that Daphné made the effort of cleaning it and providing clean sheets. She may have been a little annoying, but she’s a blessing. He drops his bag on one the other chairs. Daphné would probably be overjoyed that he’s using this the way she intended it to. He flops onto it and curls up; he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

....

In the darkness that surrounded him, a gentle hand on his nape is what grounded him. Long fingers make their way to the short hairs at the base, softly scratching and running through them. The touch rouses Lucas from his dreamless sleep and his eyes slowly flutter open to stare unseeingly. The hand continues to caress his sleep-rumpled tresses and he tries to blink away the last remnants of Hypnos’ hold on his consciousness but it persistently clings. Lucas turns his face where he feels the dip of the added weight. He sees a thigh clad in a familiar pair of dark jeans. His nose is tickled by a familiar scent and he breathes it in. He presses his face to that thigh, closed his eyes once more and lets himself drown in the comfort and safety the touch has begun to instill in him.

“Lucas?” Eliott’s soft melodious voice asks him.

He hums and his hand reaches out to grab Eliott, arm hooking around the taller boy’s middle.

“Lucas come on, wake up for me. This couch can’t be good for your back, let me take you home.” He hears him say but Lucas’ mind has begun to sink into unconsciousness again. The warmth and familiar feel of Eliott’s body bringing him back to that Saturday morning and how easy it was to fall asleep. “Lu?”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Five?”

Lucas grunts. “Five, then we’ll repaint the stupid ugly mural.” He buries his face closer to Eliott’s thigh.

Eliott’s light laughter echoes in the empty room. His long fingers card through Lucas’ hair gently and the younger brunette sighs contently. “Okay,” Eliott acquiesces. “Five more minutes.” Warm breaths ruffles the hair on his forehead before a pair of lips brush against the skin there.

Lucas smiles and for the second time that day, he falls asleep.