#and said he just wanted to audition to challenge himself

[makoheadrush]

Quietly bragging that my kid was accepted to the Berklee college of music

Quietly sobbing because it is heartbreakingly unaffordable

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — BEHIND THE SCENES !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ a recollection of moments from when you and drew filmed your first movie together.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ probably inaccurate acting scenes, slight angst.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i’ve spent more time conjuring up ideas about the fictional movie (knowing greek mythology paid off) than actually writing this. again, zendaya is just a face claim for the social media parts but the reader can be imagined as anything or anyone you want! this is also the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done so i really hope it was worth the wait 🫶

word count : 6,6k

There was something undeniably thrilling about starting a new movie project. It wasn’t just the act of filming that exhilarated you, no, it was the entire experience: stepping into a fresh role, meeting new colleagues, and immersing yourself in the intricacies of a new story. Each character brought a unique set of challenges and emotions, making acting as intoxicating as it was fulfilling.

When your agent first mentioned Damien Chazelle’s latest project, it felt like the stars had aligned. A psychological thriller, a role so complex and sought after—it was the kind of opportunity actors dream about. After various auditions and callbacks, you finally got the call: you’d landed the part. But nothing could have prepared you for the shock of learning that Drew Starkey would also be starring in the film.

You’d first met Drew during Variety’s Actors on Actors interview series. The chemistry between you two had been immediate, magnetic, and brimming with potential. The interview itself was lighthearted, but fans couldn’t stop buzzing about the dynamic between you afterward. Social media was flooded with calls for you both to star in a film together. Little did they know that dream would soon become reality.

Your first day on set felt surreal. Despite all your preparation, a flicker of nervous energy pulsed in your chest. It wasn’t just about embodying Isabella, a role that demanded every ounce of emotional depth you had; it was about reuniting with Drew after the whirlwind of speculation and excitement that followed your previous encounter.

Then, as if on cue, you spotted him. He stood across the bustling set, deep in conversation with Damien Chazelle. Already in costume—tailored slacks, an impeccably pressed shirt, and a hint of disheveled hair that somehow enhanced his charm—he looked every bit the enigmatic and manipulative art dealer, Theo. It was almost unsettling how effortlessly he slipped into character.

A pang of nervous energy tightened in your chest, but you masked it quickly. You were no stranger to working alongside talented actors, but something about Drew made you want to push yourself even harder—to impress him, match his intensity, or simply hold your own against the charisma that seemed to radiate from him.

As Drew turned and caught sight of you, his expression shifted. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, followed by a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He excused himself from his conversation with Damien and strode toward you, his step casual yet deliberate.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, his tone teasing but undeniably warm. “The artist herself.”

“Drew,” you replied, matching his energy with a smirk. “Or should I say, Theo?”

“Touché,” he shot back, his grin widening as he stopped in front of you. “Guess we’re both stepping into some big shoes this time.”

The air between you hummed with unspoken energy, the hum of the crew around you fading into the background.

“So,” he began, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. “How are you feeling about all this? Ready to dive into the chaos?”

You chuckled softly, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And you?”

His gaze softened, the playful edge giving way to something earnest. “Same. But if there’s anyone who can bring Isabella to life, it’s you. You’ve got this.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, bolstering your confidence. “Thanks, Drew,” you said, your voice touched with gratitude. “That means a lot.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Just don’t forget to save some of that intensity for the scenes. I hear Theo and Isabella have… interesting dynamics.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curving your lips. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Just try to keep up, Starkey.”

His laughter was genuine, the kind that made your chest feel lighter. “Challenge accepted.”

The set had an almost electric feel today. The tension in the air mirrored the intensity of the scene you were about to film, a confrontation that pushed Isabella to her limits. Drew had just finished his scenes as Theo, but instead of retreating to his trailer for a break, he chose to stay behind the cameras, watching you as you prepared for your big moment.

He leaned against a quiet corner of the set, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. You were already in character, your body language shifting as you transformed into Isabella. Drew had seen it all; the way you could disappear into your role, the way you made every moment feel alive, even the smallest of gestures. It was magnetic, captivating, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You were standing across from a male crew member, discussing the next scene. Drew noticed how naturally you interacted with him, the ease with which you joked around, the warm laughter that escaped you as you shared a quiet moment between takes. There was nothing flirtatious about it, nothing intentional. It was just your charm, your ability to connect with anyone, to make them feel like they were the only person in the room.

But as Drew watched, a pang of something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. The crew member—an assistant director, he knew—was praising you. “You’ve really outdone yourself today,” the man said with a grin, clapping you on the back. “Isabella’s depth? Incredible. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone pull that off quite like you.”

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with the kind of humility that made Drew’s heart ache. “Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” you said, clearly grateful for the acknowledgment but never one to boast.

Drew’s grip on the railing tightened, a strange feeling settling in his gut as he watched you laugh and engage so effortlessly. He had always admired your talent—hell, he had always been in awe of it—but today, for some reason, it felt different. The warmth in the crew member’s praise, the way he seemed to linger a little longer, a little too long, sent a sharp twinge of jealousy through Drew. He hated the way it felt, hated how quickly it consumed him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be appreciated—he did. You deserved all the recognition in the world. But the knowledge that someone else was seeing the very qualities he had admired in you from the start, that someone else could see what made you so unique... it made something inside him stir.

And it wasn’t just admiration he felt for you—it was something deeper, something he had tried to ignore ever since that first interview. He could remember the spark between you both, the effortless connection that had only grown stronger since then. Every moment with you, every conversation, had somehow led him here. To this feeling, this painful realization that he wasn’t just drawn to you as a friend or a co-star—he was falling for you.

But he wasn’t sure if you saw him the same way. Or if you ever would.

He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, gnawing at him as the scene began. Drew watched from the shadows as you took your position, your posture shifting with the weight of Isabella’s inner turmoil. The camera rolled, and the world seemed to disappear. He wasn’t thinking about the crew member anymore, or the way you had smiled at him.

No, Drew was too focused on the way you delivered your lines. Every word you spoke seemed to come from a place of real pain, real desperation. It was like watching a storm roll in, one that consumed everything in its path.

When Damien called cut, the set fell silent for a beat. Drew’s breath caught in his throat. You were brilliant. He’d known it for a long time, but watching you right here, right now, brought it all to the forefront—how far you had come, how much of yourself you put into every scene.

He watched you stand tall, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes still distant from the intensity of the scene you’d just played. And as you looked around, Drew’s gaze softened. You were remarkable.

The crew member who had been praising you earlier walked up to you again, and Drew couldn’t help but feel that same uncomfortable stir in his chest. He had to admit, it wasn’t just the praise that bothered him—it was the way this guy kept looking at you. Drew quickly averted his eyes, his jaw tightening as he turned his attention back to the crew.

But as you turned toward Drew, your eyes meeting his for just a second, something passed between you, something unspoken. You offered him a small, genuine smile, the kind that only he seemed to get. And in that brief moment, everything else faded away.

He took a breath, forcing the jealousy back down. The weight of it, the sting, wasn’t going to cloud this moment. He knew what he felt. It was real, it was undeniable, and maybe, just maybe, there was still time to figure it all out. But for now, all he could do was admire you from afar, watch as you brought your character to life, and hope that one day, you’d see him the way he saw you.

And with that thought, Drew finally stepped forward, his resolve firming, ready to give you the space and respect you deserved while also knowing that there was so much more he wanted to say.

The scene you were filming was a culmination of everything Isabella had been building toward—raw, vulnerable, and utterly shattering. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a reckoning, the moment when all her carefully buried pain and longing erupted to the surface. Every word you spoke felt like tearing open a wound, every gesture a desperate plea for salvation. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel the weight of every eye on set, holding their breath, waiting to see if you could pull it off.

Drew, as Theo, stood before you, towering in every sense of the word. His presence wasn’t just physical; it consumed the space, dominating the scene like a storm about to break. His voice, low and cutting, delivered lines that felt like knives slicing through the air, leaving no room to hide. When his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity was unbearable, like he could see right into you—not just Isabella, but you.

The camera captured the moment your composure shattered, tears spilling as your voice cracked under the weight of the scene. You weren’t sure where Isabella ended and you began anymore. The pain felt too real, too sharp, and when Damien finally called “cut,” the word sliced through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was deafening, a stark contrast to the storm you’d just weathered.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the rawness of the moment clinging to you like a second skin. Your chest heaved as you struggled to come back to yourself, but the emotions wouldn’t let go. Your hands trembled at your sides, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought you might break apart completely.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice cut through the haze, soft but insistent. His hand was on your arm before you even realized he’d crossed the room. His touch was grounding, his presence a lifeline. “Look at me,” he said, his tone low, coaxing.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes, and the concern there undid you. Your breath hitched, and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it. “I… I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” you whispered, the words tumbling out, raw and unfiltered. “It’s too much. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Drew didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hand sliding from your arm to your shoulder, then to the small of your back, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. You froze for a moment, caught between the instinct to hold it together and the overwhelming need to let go. His arms wrapped around you, warm and steady, and the dam broke.

“I can’t,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “I feel like I left everything out there, and there’s nothing left of me. Nothing.”

His grip tightened, his hand cradling the back of your head as his fingers threaded gently through your hair. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not empty. You’re just wide open right now, and that’s what makes this real. That’s what makes you extraordinary.”

You clung to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked your body. He didn’t rush you, didn’t try to fix it or make it better. He just held you, his own breathing steady and calm, like he was anchoring you to the world.

“I saw you out there,” he whispered after a moment, his lips brushing against your temple. “You weren’t just acting. You were her. Every ounce of pain, every flicker of hope—you brought it to life. You made them feel it. You made me feel it.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-streaked face tilted up to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, his own emotions barely restrained, and the vulnerability between you was electric. “But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice breaking.

“It is,” he said firmly, his hand cupping your face now, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “It’s more than enough. You’re enough.” His voice cracked on the last word, the raw sincerity in it making your chest tighten.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sounds of the crew preparing for the next take fading into the background. All you could see, all you could feel, was Drew. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his hand steadying your shoulder.“You’ve got this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laced with unwavering conviction. “And I’ve got you. Always.”

The day had been long—endless takes, precision, and the kind of emotional exhaustion that made every muscle in your body ache. Filming had wrapped for the day, but the atmosphere on set hadn’t fully shifted. The quiet hum of equipment and the occasional voices from the crew still echoed around you, but you felt the weight of the day lift as you retreated to the solitude of your trailer.

You were halfway through removing your costume when a soft knock at the door caught your attention. It was a gentle knock, familiar in its rhythm, and you immediately recognized it.

“Come in,” you called, already knowing who it was.

The door creaked open, and there stood Drew, leaning against the frame with a lazy smile that instantly made the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, and there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes, but it was tempered with something warmer, something more tender.

“Understatement,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though your smile betrayed the exhaustion you were trying to hide.

He nodded and pushed the door open a little more, stepping inside. The space felt smaller with him in it, but somehow it didn’t feel crowded. It felt… comfortable. Safe.

Drew’s gaze drifted over to the small sofa beside the window, and without a word, he took a seat, kicking his shoes off and stretching his legs out. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he seemed to move, like he was made to fit into this small space as if he belonged here, with you.

You finished removing the last of the costume and dropped it into the nearby hamper, but instead of diving into your usual post-filming routine of unwinding, you found yourself walking over to him, drawn to the quiet energy between you. He looked up at you, his gaze softening as you neared.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, as if the very sound of it could pull you closer.

You didn’t hesitat to sit down beside him. There was a comfortable silence between you two, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. You leaned back against the cushions, the heat from his body radiating beside you.

Drew turned his head slightly, catching your eye. His expression was different from how he’d been on set—this wasn’t the charismatic, calculated Theo. This was Drew, the man you had come to know off-camera. His gaze was tender, almost searching, as if he was asking permission for something more.

Without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours before lacing them together. The small contact sent a flutter through you, the simple act of his touch carrying an intimacy that felt far more profound than it had any right to be.

“Can I just…” he began, his voice trailing off for a moment before he squeezed your hand gently. “Can I just be here with you for a while? No cameras, no lines, just us?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’d like that.”

His thumb began to trace soft circles over the back of your hand, and you leaned into him, the quiet between you two settling into something even deeper than physical proximity. His body was warm, and his scent—fresh and slightly woody—wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting in its familiarity.

“You were incredible today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words held no pretense, just raw sincerity. “Every time I see you step into a scene, it’s like you bring something new to the table. I don’t know how you do it.”

You could feel your heart flutter at his praise, but instead of letting it sink in fully, you shifted your focus back to him, tilting your head slightly to catch his eyes. “What about you? You’re kind of a force to be reckoned with, Starkey.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine, and you felt him shift closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I’m just trying to keep up with you,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his voice. He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he moved his hand from yours, slowly resting it on your cheek, his touch soft but possessive. The weight of his gaze locked onto yours, and you could feel the air shift between you—charged, magnetic, undeniable.

“I’ve wanted this moment for a while,” he admitted quietly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

Your pulse quickened, your breath hitching as his hand slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You didn’t fight it; you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with the kind of quiet longing that had built between you for weeks now.

The kiss deepened, and everything outside of the small trailer seemed to fade away. There was no set, no crew, no expectations—just the two of you, wrapped up in the space you had created together. It wasn’t hurried or urgent. It was soft, a tender promise without words, like something neither of you had realized you needed until it was happening.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found yourself leaning your forehead against his, sharing the same air between you. He smiled, his eyes glimmering with something that went beyond attraction.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

You closed your eyes, savoring the quiet after the storm of emotions on set, the gentle sound of his heartbeat in your ear, and the warmth of his embrace. “Me too,” you whispered back, letting the moment stretch on, knowing it was one you’d carry with you long after the lights went down and the cameras stopped rolling.

The morning after your quiet, intimate moment in the trailer felt different. There was a strange kind of weight in the air between you and Drew that neither of you could ignore. The atmosphere on set was charged with an unspoken energy, the kind that hung between two people who had shared something personal but weren’t quite sure how to navigate it in the daylight.

As the crew began setting up for the first scene of the day, you found yourself standing off to the side, absentmindedly checking your script, but every now and then, your eyes would flicker toward Drew. He was standing with Damien, talking animatedly about something, but there was a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. He had always exuded confidence, but now, there was a subtle hesitance to his movements—like he was still figuring out where you stood with each other after the kiss.

You could feel it too. The usual camaraderie between you two was laced with something different now. The chemistry was still there, but it felt like a live wire; dangerous and unpredictable. The playful banter that had flowed so easily between you the day before seemed distant, replaced by awkward silences whenever you found yourselves in the same vicinity.

You tried to shake it off. This was your job. You were here to work, to give your best performance, and that had to come first. But no matter how much you told yourself to focus, the tension was inescapable.

The first scene you were filming together was a pivotal one—Isabella’s first real confrontation with Theo, a moment where everything changes between them. Your character was supposed to be cool and collected, but deep down, she was unraveling at the seams. You had to bring all that turmoil, all that internal chaos to the surface in a matter of moments.

When Damien called “Action,” the professional masks slipped on almost instinctively, and you both fell into character.

Drew’s performance was colder today, more distant, his usual charm replaced by a simmering, quiet intensity. His eyes, once warm and full of teasing, now held a cold calculation as they met yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, and though it was just acting, the memory of the night before lingered, making the scene feel even more charged than it should have been.

“You think you have control of this, Isabella?” Theo’s voice was sharp, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

You shot back, the defiance in Isabella’s eyes glaring through your own. “Your entire scheme depends on me, Theo. Without me, it crumbles to dust. If that’s not control, I don’t know what is.”

The words came easily, but every time you locked eyes with Drew, there was a brief flicker of something behind his gaze—a flicker of the intimacy you’d shared, a memory that was suddenly alive in the space between you. It was hard to shake, and you could tell it was affecting his performance too. His lines weren’t as crisp as usual, his timing slightly off, as though he was distracted.

The tension was palpable, hanging over the scene like a cloud, and the moment you wrapped the scene, the silence that followed felt deafening.

Damien looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Let’s take a break,” he said after a moment, clearly sensing the shift in energy. “Maybe a few minutes to reset?”

You nodded quickly, eager for the space, for the chance to breathe outside of the tight bubble of tension. Drew, on the other hand, didn’t say anything. He simply nodded curtly, giving you a quick glance that made your stomach flip before turning away to walk toward the corner of the set.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Should you approach him? Pretend nothing had changed? Or should you give him space, let the awkwardness settle, and let the scene breathe?

You didn’t get the chance to think too long. A hand gently touched your shoulder, and you turned to find Cailee Spaney, your co-star, standing beside you, a concerned look on her face.

“You two okay?” she asked, her tone light, but there was a genuine curiosity behind it. She knew you both well enough to sense the shift.

You hesitated. “I think so. Just… a weird energy today, you know?”

Cailee’s eyes flickered over to where Drew stood, chatting with the crew but still glancing in your direction. “It’s pretty obvious to everyone. You’ve got to clear the air, or it’s going to keep hanging over both of you.”

You knew she was right. The unspoken tension between you and Drew wasn’t just something that could be ignored—it would affect the work, the connection between your characters, and maybe even the rest of the team’s comfort. But you weren’t sure how to fix it. How do you go from that intimate moment behind closed doors to this, to being back in the public eye with cameras rolling, no room for vulnerability?

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, Drew’s voice broke through, calling your name.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward you, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes uncertain but earnest. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, stepping a little closer to him. There was an intensity in his gaze now, but it wasn’t the cold, calculating Theo you’d seen on set. This was Drew, the one you knew—the one who had kissed you, the one who was just as affected by everything as you were.

“Look,” he started, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not… I don’t want this to be weird. I don’t want it to mess with the work, with the scenes. I just—”

“Yeah,” you interrupted softly, “me neither. It’s just… it’s hard to go back to pretending nothing happened.”

He smiled weakly, and you could see the tension in his face ease a little. “You’re right. But we’ve got this. We’ll figure it out. Just need to get through today, right?”

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Right.”

And for the first time since you’d kissed him, you both shared a moment of quiet understanding—no more words needed. You still didn’t know how this would all play out, but for now, you had a scene to finish, a role to play, and a bond that had quietly shifted in ways neither of you could ignore.

The last day on set arrived like a blur—one moment, you were just starting the project, and now, you were standing in the middle of the set for the final scene, everything winding down. It felt surreal, almost like you were moving through a dream. The camaraderie you’d built with the cast and crew, the long hours, the inside jokes, and the late-night rehearsals were all coming to a close. And yet, there was a weight in the air—one that had little to do with the wrap-up of the film.

You and Drew had navigated the tension between you both for weeks now, silently acknowledging it but never fully addressing it. Both of you had poured your energy into the project, the work taking center stage, but there had always been that quiet pull between you. Now, as you watched the final scene being set up, there was no denying it: this wasn’t just about wrapping the film. There was something unspoken that you knew needed to be said.

Drew was already on set, his costume as Theo impeccably sharp, his eyes distracted as he ran through lines under his breath. He looked different today—softer, like the walls he’d built around himself throughout the project were crumbling.

The last scene between Isabella and Theo was intense, charged with everything they’d been through together. It was a pivotal moment, where they both stood at a crossroads, neither sure of where the future would take them. The connection between you two felt more real than ever, and you knew this was the moment where it all had to come to a head—both on screen and off.

As the crew prepared for the final take, you caught Drew’s eye from across the set. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of hesitation, like he wanted to say something, but the moment wasn’t quite right. You couldn’t let it go.

You moved toward him, your footsteps echoing in the quiet before the chaos of the scene began. As you approached, Drew straightened up, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides.

"Hey," you said, offering him a small smile. “Ready to wrap this up?”

He returned the smile, but there was an unreadable look in his eyes. “Yeah, but... I’ve been thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sense of curiosity stirring in your chest. “About?”

He shifted slightly, the weight of his words hanging between you two. “About us. About... everything.” He swallowed, his usual confident demeanor faltering. “You know, the way things have been between us. We’ve never really talked about it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air between you felt thick, charged. It was as if the words had been waiting to spill out for weeks, and now, in the stillness of the final day, they couldn’t be contained any longer.

“Drew…” you started, your voice barely a whisper, unsure of what to say.

He stepped closer, the space between you narrowing until it felt like no one else existed. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now,” he continued, his voice a little rougher than usual, the weight of his feelings making every word feel like it carried more meaning than it ever had before. “I can’t pretend anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after how I feel about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade into the background. The noise of the set, the crew bustling about, even the upcoming scene—it all vanished as Drew’s words sank in.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice softer now, the intensity of his confession undeniable. “More than I’ve let on. More than I probably should. But I can’t ignore it anymore, and I don’t want to walk away from this without telling you.”

You stood there, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. It felt like a moment frozen in time—one that had been building for weeks, but now that it was finally here, you didn’t know how to respond.

For a beat, you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, trying to process the rush of emotions his words had triggered. But then, a smile began to tug at the corners of your lips. You took a step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m glad you said that,” you whispered, your voice steady, but your emotions running wild beneath the surface. “I’ve been feeling the same way, Drew. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

He gave a small, relieved laugh, his eyes brightening with that familiar warmth. “I’ve been trying to convince myself to wait until the film wrapped, until everything calmed down. But every time I looked at you... it just felt like I was lying to myself.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you easing, replaced by something deeper, something real. “I think we’ve both been lying to ourselves,” you said, your hand unconsciously reaching out for his.

Drew’s fingers curled around yours, and for the first time in weeks, there was no awkwardness, no uncertainty—just the simple connection between you both, like a thread that had always been there, waiting to be pulled.

As the crew called for the final take, you both stood there for a moment longer, simply taking in the quiet of the moment before the storm of filming began again.

“Let’s finish this,” Drew said with a grin, his fingers still tightly holding yours.

You nodded, the anticipation in your chest matching the excitement in his eyes. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The scene was about to begin, but for once, you weren’t worried about the cameras, the crew, or the pressure. For the first time in a long while, you were just here—with him. And that was enough.

As you both walked back onto set, side by side, you knew this moment, this day, was one that would stay with you long after the credits rolled. Drew had confessed his feelings, and the truth between you was no longer hidden. You had one more scene to film, but in that moment, it felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

The post-wrap party was everything you’d imagined it would be—laughter, music, and the celebratory sound ofclinking of glasses. The set was a distant memory now, the whirlwind of the past few months slowly fading into the background as you found yourself in the midst of the crew and cast, celebrating the end of a long, intense journey. The atmosphere was warm, filled with a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie.

Lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the gathering. The chatter was a mix of congratulatory remarks and funny anecdotes from behind the scenes. You could hear snippets of conversations as people relived the chaos of filming, the challenges, and the triumphs, but amidst it all, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to Drew.

He was leaning against the bar, chatting with a few of the crew members. Even from across the room, you could feel the pull between you—the magnetic energy that had only intensified since that first kiss. The way he’d laughed with you on set, the way he’d confessed his feelings on that last day—it all felt like a beautiful dream, yet it was real. You couldn’t shake the quiet contentment that had settled in your chest, a feeling that only seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute.

Your heart warmed as you watched him, the soft light from the party highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the playfulness in his eyes. Drew looked at home here, yet he had a way of making everything feel more meaningful just by being present. He was grounded and alive in a way that made you feel safe, as if you’d found a place in this world where you truly belonged.

Finally, your legs moved on their own, carrying you through the crowd. Each step brought you closer to him, closer to something that felt inevitable. And when he turned toward you, as if he’d sensed your approach, his eyes lit up with the warmth that had become familiar. There was no awkwardness now, no uncertainty—only the comfort of knowing that you and Drew were no longer tiptoeing around each other. What had started as something tentative had grown into something real, something undeniable.

“Hey,” Drew said with that soft smile of his, his voice like home. “I was wondering when you’d come over.”

You smiled back, moving closer to him, feeling the way his presence filled the space between you. “Couldn’t resist. The party’s fun, but... I’d rather be here with you,” you replied, your voice low and sincere.

Drew’s smile deepened, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his eyes full of something that went beyond simple affection. He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the film, to the work, and to... us, I guess,” he said, a little shy but so genuine that it made your chest ache.

You lifted your own glass to meet his, the soft clink of the glasses an almost imperceptible note in the music that surrounded you. “To us,” you echoed, the words settling deep within you, filling the empty spaces you didn’t even realize existed. It was real now, the connection, the undeniable bond that had been growing between you since the moment you first locked eyes on set.

The music played softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like everything was quieter—more intimate. You were standing there together, both of you caught in the soft embrace of a night that felt endless, where time stood still. Drew’s presence was a comfort you hadn’t known you needed, and as you stood beside him, a peace settled over you that you hadn’t expected.

“Are you happy with how everything turned out?” Drew asked, his voice sincere, his eyes searching yours for something only you could give him.

You thought for a moment, your heart beating steadily in your chest. The long hours, the late-night rehearsals, the emotional scenes—it had all been a whirlwind. But standing there with Drew, feeling the warmth of his hand resting just above your waist, everything felt clearer. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “I’m proud of everything we did. Proud of how far we’ve come.”

Drew nodded, his gaze softening, and his lips curved into a smile that made your heart flutter. “Same here. You were incredible. You brought Isabella to life in a way I never thought possible.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Well, you weren’t so bad yourself, Starkey. Theo was... captivating, to say the least.” The words were teasing, but your smile spoke of something deeper—a sense of admiration and respect for everything he’d brought to the character.

His laugh was soft, a sound that sent warmth through your veins, and he moved a little closer, the space between you disappearing. “Thanks. But I think you’re the one who made everything come together. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” His words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten in the most wonderful way.

The connection between you deepened in that moment, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. Drew’s gaze softened, and his voice dropped to a quiet whisper. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, taking a step closer, his hand slipping into yours. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I know it’s crazy, but... I don’t want this to be just a set thing. What we have, I mean. I don’t want it to end when the film does.”

Your heart raced, and without a second thought, you took a small step toward him, the space between you now nonexistent. “Me neither,” you whispered, your hand gently cupping his face as you looked into his eyes. “I think this is just the beginning, Drew.”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. Without another word, Drew leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss—a kiss that held everything unspoken. It was slow, a gentle exploration, as though both of you were savoring the moment, the sweetness of everything that had led you here.

When you pulled away, the world around you seemed to fade. The music, the laughter, the chatter—it all felt distant, as if the only thing that mattered was Drew, and the feeling of his arms around you, his lips on yours. “Then let’s see where it goes,” he said softly, his breath warm against your cheek.

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. The world felt right in a way it hadn’t before. The film was over, but the connection you shared with Drew was just beginning to blossom, and you were content, certain that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

The night continued around you, but for the two of you, it was just the beginning.

[theyluvlyss]

hi! i was wondering if you could write dating hc's for duncan and courtney (separate) please?

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 !

but unfortunately, I do not currently write for courtney :(. although, I hope you like what I do have written and that it doesn't discourage you from requesting in the future :).

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

you went on this stupid, island, reality show to win $100,000, which could've most definitely changed your life for the better. but instead, you got a delinquent meat-head who had... somehow, earned your heart faster than the cash. "how" and "why" is beyond you. but at least you could come up with a list of some semi-convincing reasons as to such...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x duncan - she/her/hers pronouns

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

season one (total drama island)

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

harsh language/cursing - dangerous elements/themes mentioned - duncan being himself lmao (possibly a little ooc? I apologize if so) - established romantic relationship - casual dominance (cuz ik that can irk some people) - possessive terms (my, his, etc).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

When you applied/auditioned to be on the show, you didn't actually think they'd pick you. It was a stupid dare amongst friends back home! No way would they pick some random girl with no experience or even a resume from (home/town/city).

And then, they did😃.

Next thing you know, you're being flown out to Canada and then dropped off from a yacht on some random, deserted island. Just your luck to apply for a scammy and sketchy reality show rather than what you were promised...

And, to top it all off, your host might as well have been a sociopath, your chef, a psychopath, and you were now forced to spend your time with twenty-two other lunatic teenagers for eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. To be fully and completely clear, you did not want to be here.

How could this get any worse?

Duncan. That's how.

He irked you at first. No, you didn't hate him. He actually had his moments where you found him quite funny with a sarcastic quip he had said or entertaining with some random stunt he pulled.

But other than that...

"I'm not jumping. I miss the safe zone and get eaten alive by sharks, and then what?"

"Oh'ho, you're jumping, sweetheart. I'll be damned if you lose this challenge for us because you're not a strong swimmer."

"That's not what I said. And what're you gonna do? Make me?"

...you were firm on your dislike for him.

Not that the feelings weren't reciprocated, of course. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to eying any pretty girls he happened to come across, he didn't intend to date. He came to win $100,000, just like the rest of them. And though he had grown used to the way your attitude struck any and everyone who tried to manipulate you into doing something you didn't want to do, at least you weren't Courtney, stick shoved up your butt.

Onto the more headcanon-y portion of this list...

I feel like Duncan actually wouldn't be opposed to random hookups or anything like that. But, once he has specific eyes for someone, he treats things as if he's already bagged them (manifesting king😻✨️). And in this case, them is you. He didn't get the hots right away, but after a couple of weeks or so of spending basically all of his time around you (being on the same team and all), he wasn't too surprised upon coming to terms with those feelings.

Not that you could exactly tell, with him running around calling you "sweetheart" and "angel-face" and whatever other petnames he could come up with on the fly. You figured it was just him being...well... Duncan! Not to mention, you weren't exactly all that fond of him.

Did he know that? Yes. Did he care? Ehh. You'd warm up. He'd actually make sure of it because even if the show didn't end with him either winning the money or getting you as a girlfriend, the least he'd accomplish is wooing you.

He's not gonna sacrifice his reputation for that, so he'd have to play it cool. And during the seventh challenge, an opportunity came to light; he'd help you concor your fear! Not only would it win your team the challenge, but it'd be a huge step into winning over your heart. With peering eyes (and cameras around), he was there to be your tough-love.

"Get over it, toots, it's just (your/fear)!!"

"Do not mess this up for us, or I'll guarantee you go home tonight."

"I've been in juvie with worse than this...!"

But, without any evidence to prove it besides your word and a blushing face, he was totally sweet on you.

"C'mere, sweetheart, it ain't that bad. You just need a little warming up to the idea, that's all~."

"The worst that could happen is you'll be called a chicken. It's not like you'll get voted off. Not while I'm here."

"Babe, you are entirely too cool to be skeezed out by (your/fear). We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?"

Him sling-shotting you through such emotions and behavior was intense. But not as much as the way it kept you hooked. And every time you would start to grow fed up, want nothing to do with him, even cuss him out...

Life (Chris McLean) would manage to thrust you two back together. Until, eventually, you got together. I mean, no official labels or anything yet, but god forbid another guy on either team just breathed sultry in your direction (coughCodyprobablycough). Or if you got hurt during a challenge. Or whenever anyone (butmostlikelyHeather) had it out for you.

And in those moments, I think Duncan wouldn't be as good as hiding his infatuation with you. Not that anyone actually had the gall to tease him for it. Besides, he had managed to make his admiration for you look cool. Always muttering a slick, "She wants me." to his guy friends, or smirking at any intimate reaction you'd give him in front of your peers.

All in all, he's a cocky shit. But he made it work in a charming way that you couldn't quite place, and made you wonder why you were even attracted to it/him at all.

And, surprisingly, he could be quite the gentlemen. Rough around the edges, sure, but see if you ever have to hold a door open for yourself or climb down from something without his hand being offered to you ever again.

He even makes sure to censor himself around you! Er- well, tries. If he deems a curse word too heavy for you to hear come flying out of his mouth, it goes a little something like this:

" ...So I rush 'im, right? And then can you believe the motherfucker-...! Sorry, babe. Can you believe this idiot actually tries to shank me?! Wild stuff, man..."

As if he's not already sitting around the campfire telling the most gorey juvie/jail story ever. But nope, the extra heavy cuss words are the stuff that's impolite for your ears🙄✋🏽.

#it'sthethoughtthatcounts♡.

OH!! And casual dominance? Definitely a thing in the relationship. Mainly from him, with a simple, "C'mere, doll." or a motion of the hand/finger over towards him. But let's not lie and say this dude isn't a sucker for the moments you boss him around...

"Duncan, go grab that for me, please?"

"I'm busy-"

"Now."

. . .

No further protest, your item retrieved and dropped into your hands with swiftness, and a light red dust on his face badly hidden under a scowl.

Things would get serious/official if one of you two got voted off of the island, though. If you got voted off, he'd be sure to give you the most profound goodbye he can in the very limited amount of time he has to actually say it. Make it very clear you're his girl, "...for anyone thinkin' about trying to make a move while I'm not around." And, he promises that if he wins, he's coming for you, and you'll run off together with the money. Cliche, but how could you say no?

If he gets voted off, he sticks on a brave face and basically threatens you to win lmao😭. Think of it as very intense encouragement coming from a deep down place of love.

"Babe, you better win this whole shit, 'cuz I'm gonna be rooting for you back home. Need these losers to see that my girl is the shit."

I could probably go on forever, but I don't want to make this too long :')...

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 !!

this is my first post (as in writing/content) ever, so yay me :D ! and for the person that requested, again, I hope you enjoyed this 'cuz it was fun to write ! although I really don't like the title, but I couldn't think of anything better😭...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

none :(

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :

anon <3

𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

[bluu-m0on]

Demigod!Brant (Hercules!AU) I’d like to thank @let-the-stars-guide for this idea, suggestions, and her feedback in making this fic come to life!

Synopsis: The city of Thebes has never been a place where peace was an option until a warrior: The Flaming Returned, rose up to the challenge and restored it himself. Amidst the praise and the reputation he garnered for himself, he always finds his way back to a humble tavern you work at.

Word count: ~2.3k

Author's notes and disclaimers: - I let this fic marinate in my drafts for a good while. I wanted to try something a little different with this one since I rewrote the setting to be a mix of ancient Greece and Solaris (right after the Mortefi fic too no less). I also used some terminology that might be unfamiliar. I've left the footnotes for the terminology at the end of this piece. - I don't speak or write much in English, even if I'm fluent in the language. Please be aware that my grammar and/or vocabulary might be faulty in some parts. I've revised this with @let-the-stars-guide a few times, but I'm confident that I didn't manage to correct every single mistake. - yes. I am ***horribly*** down bad for this man. Jesus Christ. The gist of the fic's setting is that: - The sentinels are about the same in-game, just seen as similarly as Greek gods. - Resonators are more or less seen as demigods. Where if someone managed to get a forte, it is said that the sentinel has "blessed" them in a way. I really didn't want to elaborate this much more in the fic since that's not the main focus, but I did use it for some context in writing. The setting is almost the same as the one in Disney's version with some rewrites: - "A hero comes to a crime-ridden town to improve the lives of the people in it to prove his worth." I kept this one in. - 'Meg' (as the reader), was rewritten differently compared to the source material so that this version of the character ('(name)') made sense in the setting. So no, this isn't a Meg!Reader fic. Not to my knowledge anyway.

*"I will face the world fearless, proud, and strong 'til I find my hero's welcome right where I belong."

God knows what you expected when you first met Brant. He was, to say the least, theatric, with how he carried himself around the *polis and among the people of Thebes, always with a confident gait and a smile that never seemed to leave his lips as the masses sang their praises of him as a hero: The Flaming Returned.

Surprisingly, you met him in one of the *apotheca, right by the *amphora where the town’s wine was being audited. He didn’t look like much then— a lot leaner and unkempt; truth be told, he looked more like one of the carry-boys for the old merchant who ran the inn right down the block. Yet, despite his frame and incompetence, he managed to save you from being dragged away and mugged by the thugs in broad daylight. He had no sword on him, but he fought them anyway. One punch after the other, he picked them off one at a time.

How a carry-boy like him managed to beat the crap out of a bunch of thugs like it was nothing is beyond you. Better to believe that it was the blessing of a god, nothing short of a miracle.

He offers you a hand— calloused, firm, but kind. “Are you alright?” He asks kindly as you pick yourself up and dust off the dirt on your clothes. “I’m alright.” You reply, just as concerned about him for any injuries. Seriously, how the hell did he manage to get out on top and unscathed?!

“Do you know those people by chance?”

“Not a clue. Thank you— by the way, for saving me.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I had my eye on those guys for a while. They’ve been hanging around here to steal what they can, I’m guessing.”

“Then you best be on your guard, then. Thebes is not exactly friendly— Or kind, for that matter.”

“Then you’re lucky enough to have met me then. The name’s Brant.”

“(Name).”

And thus, followed a camaraderie between the two that blossomed through chance encounters and unplanned run-ins at the *kapaleia, where you’d find out his penchant for wine, that you’d swear he would be a close companion of the god of wine himself.

Where you'd usually be behind the counter serving food and drinks, you find yourself resigned to keep him company for an hour, right in the middle of your shift no less.

It wasn't like the passed-out drunkards could order another cup. Right?

The tavern was lively with the bustle of drunks and patrons after a long day of work, as orders piled up quickly as the night wore on, with money to spend, and mead to drink; Yet you found yourself keeping Brant company across the bar top among the rest of the men and women who gaily lost their sense of time to the hands of lady liquor herself, inebriating even the strongest over a few kisses with just a few cups.

Not like he's immune to her temptation either, but thankfully his tolerance to alcohol is a little better.

No *amphora full of wine is safe around him. Not when he has coins to spend generously. You note one evening, right across him while he downs another cup eagerly.

Unlike the others, he’s got an ego but not enough to be a complete narcissist. He’s charming— charismatic enough to have any woman swoon over him at barely a glance, yet he never used it to his advantage— always carrying this air of honor around him.

One particular night was when you caught a glimpse of his humility.

"Why do you try even bringing peace to this place?" You ask, taking one mug cup after another off the tables to be washed before you clock off out of work. You think it was the liquid courage doing all the talking about heroism, chivalry, and honor, but you were only met with a far-off gaze cast down towards his drink and a wry smile as he swirls the amber liquid in his cup.

"... Because I have something to live for." The words fall from his lips in a soft mutter, half laced with wine and the other half... frustration? yearning? determination?

He's quiet for a moment before he chugs the liquid gold with an audible gulp, making his throat bob and somewhat easing his mind after downing the cup.

You don’t catch what he mutters under his breath right after.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand; and before you can apologize for bringing the topic up, he puts on a practiced smile once more to steel himself, yet his eyes never looked more lonelier until now.

A coin or two for his thoughts, bless him. It might be best to ask him more when he's sober.

With a renewed resolve, He pays for the drink and thanks you for your company, before getting up and leaving the tavern wordlessly; whistling a farmer’s tune into the night. You clocked off work not too long after.

Unbeknownst to you, he would face the Lernean Hydra the next day. the thing had been wreaking havoc in the countryside for a while now, rumored to have taken the children captive with no one to save them.

Who else was more fit for the job really? He thought.

A screech of a beast echoed across the grassfields before it went completely quiet. A man stands alone with a relentless fire in his hands amidst the several snake-like skulls rolling about around him, right before the monster's necks where each base had been cauterized.

The smell was foul, but meant that the fight was over.

Upon the last fall of the Hydra's head with a searing cut, the people let out a deafening cheer. His sword's embers are still somehow unflickering in the shade of the monster's cadaver right by the base of a hill, marking the first of many victories to come.

Brant had come out as the victor that fateful afternoon. Alone, but alive despite it all. The Flaming Returned had come to burn the strife with his own hands.

It's nothing short of a miracle that the city of Thebes finally has someone restoring order and peace once more among its people and managed to live to tell the tale. Finally, an unlikely hero.

The bells ring from a distance, and the captive children are freed.

Finally, peace. Finally, safety.

Lately, the criminal activity has gone down significantly ever since Brant stepped in to resolve most of it that ran rampant down the streets and in the corners of the darkest of alleyways, never the one to leave stones unturned and crannies unchecked; like flames that burned through the strife and the dust on the marble walls of the city, passing through the cracks, leaving no area unlit.

Rumors of a righteous warrior in Thebes spread like wildfire, lighting the darkest of Thebes as if he were a torchbearer, illuminating the way for those who found themselves in trouble to guide them back to safety, all the while keeping the city safe from the discord that loomed over the city outskirt’s horizon.

No doubt this was the same man who had saved you months ago— the same Byzantium eyes with a head crowned with cyan, and his sandalled feet strutting down the street with his head held high and a sheathed sword on his right, while his left hand swung with every confident step he took, donning that mile-wide grin that came so naturally to him, like wildflowers that bloomed wherever they pleased under a cloudless sky.

Unashamed, unshackled, unperturbed. He seems a lot more glorified these days.

Popular as he may seem, you don’t doubt his honor as a hero, nor do you doubt his kindness— not after the few rendezvous you've had with him, though these days it's been a hassle keeping it on the down-low with his reputation and infamy.

Despite the glory and adulation he gets from the crowd, he still returns to that bar seat across the counter where you work.

From running into him months back by chance, he's found a friend in you amidst the newfound infamy, always lending a hand and fending off the thieves from ransacking the mead before you can get them inside. You learn he was raised in the countryside - not too different from the one he freed from the Hydra's havoc, and was found by an elderly couple right by their hut. He was adopted and raised to be a good man, albeit blessed with a little more strength and power than the average man— much like those fabled resonators you’ve heard stories about growing up, heroes who received the blessing of the sentinel.

As for his real parents... he doesn’t say much, and you don’t bother to ask or pry him about it.

He's still the same guy that saved you months ago, just with a huge following, and maybe a prospect or two on his trail trying to get his attention; yet somehow, he still looks out and asks for you after everything. Compared to him, you’re stuck in a familiar routine over the few years you’ve worked behind the tavern counter, much like the trade winds against the ship’s sails. Barely changing, but comfortable enough to know where things are headed. God knows why he still comes around when you’re a server in the bar he frequents, stuck inside listening to tales of him from frequenters and drunks as if he was a Greek regalia.

"You're still working behind the counter? Come now (name), surely you've got something better to do with your time!”

“Brant, it's only been a few months since you took down that monster. It's not as if I've got any place to get a job. Besides, where else would you actually find me for drinks, hm?"

"Serving drinks and lending both your ears to woes that are worth three! All behind a counter no less! Had I known better, you're an unsung hero to many!”

He lifts his cup to toast to you, and your eyes meet his.

“For your quiet service, and to the truest camaraderie you’ve given to people like me.”

Your cheeks warm up over his sincerity as he chuckles boyishly, shining a toothy grin from across the bar top, head propped up on his hand and leaning slightly forward. You cough awkwardly, trying to offset the growing joy in your heart.

“Thank you.”

You glance down and eye the floor. Have the tiles always been this dull? You polish the cup a little firmer.

“Don’t mention it. Another of the house specialty please!”

And there it is again, that bright, mile-wide grin rivaling the sun itself. You roll your eyes and chuff.

His cheek hasn't changed at all.

“�� There’s the guy I know.”

You start working on his order exchanging a few jokes and jabs while you busy yourself; missing the way his cheeks flush as you get back to fixing his order like clockwork. A Nectar of the Gods for the hero who sat patiently on the other side of the bar top— "Nectarwine", as he liked to call it personally, watching the amber flow down the new cup in your hands, already smelling the sugar-sweet concoction wafting in the air once you put the rest of the mead back with the rest of the batch on the shelf.

Amidst the glory and praise, he admittedly found comfort in this little routine with you, sharing his day with you at least once a week after a hard day defending the city from tacet discords and criminals.

No matter what had happened to him, he'd always find you preparing drinks with practiced ease, ready to lend an ear and let him tell his daily tales after he orders another cup.

All behind a counter… He thinks to himself.

A kind smile on your face, a chortle here and there from his jokes, and a gentle reminder from you to watch his intake right after you give him his cup. He can't help but respond in kind, softly:

"You know me too well already. I can handle it, don't worry."

It’s no stranger to you that he always orders multiple times as per usual, with the claim that you've given him a cup from a better batch. Another one for the road, and another just to maybe keep you around for a little longer. Maybe.

He looks up from his cup, drunk on the sugar and liquor, while he lays his head on the bar counter, thanking the sentinel that you're too busy to notice him looking at your back. The color of the mead you gave him never looked prettier against your skin as you poured it into a cup every time, and he swore you'd look good in gold, though he wouldn't admit it now.

Was it really the Nectarwine that tasted sweet? or was it the company you provided him without hesitation? No, he's not blushing; he's only red because of the mead.

It’s his turn to cough, yet he can't help the stuttering beat on his chest. Have you always looked this stunning under the oil lamp's firelight? or has the liquor gone to his head already?

“Say (name)?”

He can't help but feel bold. it's now or never. You turn around and face him, setting down a clean cup back on the shelf.

“Yes?”

“How about we meet up some place else after your shift?”

“Oh? What for?”

"You look like you could use a break. Making and serving drinks on a daily must be awfully boring. What do you say?"

He grins, almost sheepishly. Brant, shy? That's new. You smile his way, chuckling over his sudden concern for your well-being. You cross your arms loosely and scoff lightly. For a moment, he's nervous.

Were you fond of him? He wonders. It's his eyes turn to flick up to yours, only to find that you're kinder than he thought.

"If there's anyone who needs a break, I think that would be you, Brant."

Terminology + Citations:

*"I will go the Distance (reprise)" - (sung by) Robert Bart, Hercules 1997.

Polis — greek city

Amphora | Amphorae — two-handled jar or vase, typically with a large oval body and a narrow cylindrical neck, used for storage and transport of liquids and solids like wine, oil, and grain.

Kapaleia — bars and taverns of ancient Greece.

Apotheca — storeroom for wine, herbs, and spices.

so uhh... part 2? Reblogs and hearts are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! ©bluu-mo0n. All rights reserved 2025.

[13en-i]

(06/16/2025)

Vera posting! I fear the last time I spoke about her textually came off as negative? "Manipulative" is the word I used to describe her, which, not sure. But I think a more fitting word would be "Persuasive"? "Confrontational"? "Assertive"?

Hmmm. Anyhow, I linked a whole ton of Vera hc's and lore below. Reblogs are appreciated! :]

She lives with her mom (working nurse) and her maternal grandma

She and Damien are childhood best friends! Their moms are friends too

She works at a Guyanese bakery early before or late after school, perpetually smells like pastries

She also helps a lot with the advertising/marketing of said bakery, it's one of those small cozy family friend owned places

Misses a lot of extracurriculars + hangouts between work, homework, taking care of her grandma, and burnout

She never misses Multi-cultural night at their school though. Trust she carries her booth every time, mind there's barely visits except Curtis (who's already working on his booth) and Damien (who's usually busy with Track & Field that time of year, but tries to stop by)

She stress-bakes entire batches of pine tarts. Doesn't really know what to do with them after

Has seasonal allergies. Pollen allergies. She loves the aesthetic of spring but hates acc stepping out

Her comfort movie is Penguins of Madagascar. Her pfp on almost every social is a terribly cropped Skipper meme

And some more introspective HCs!

She has to make all the decisions because she needs to. Her mom works long hours and is dazed/withdrawn when she's off duty, her grandma's memory is deteriorating and she needs extra care, and Damien and Curtis are both too conflict-adverse and indecisive. Somebody has to take the lead.

Was desensitized to pain/violence because of unregulated internet/TV. She'd soak up those late night Trash TV shows that profited off that sort of stuff

(That's how she found out about Total Drama!)

She was a true crime girl. Something about just wanting to be safe and in control and doing her "due diligence". Even for things that aren't her fault

She still has a very real and very scary fear of death. She has vivid nightmares about death

She sometimes sleeps at Damien's apartment because it's closer to her work than her actual home (+ TTC closures yass)

She's not actually that close to Curtis. They both bond over like, prank videos and Love Island or whatever gimmicky Reality TV thing is trending. But they never even exchanged numbers. lol

She likes flowers, but her allergies make it hard for her to enjoy them

She is literally this song

If she cares so much about the people she loves, Why would she set Damien up for Total Drama?

Well, for starters, it was genuinely a silly dare. Think about it, there are hundreds if not thousands of auditions and Damien's audition was arguably "bad", so she didn't think they would've actually picked him. Even when the news came out and he got accepted, would it not make sense that she thought he could handle himself?

Narrative-wise (in this AU's timeline) it's that point where Vera has been busy with her own stuff but she has a history with Damien, she knows his strengths. She knows that he's charismatic and would easily be a social threat, she knows that he does relay and would be physically fit enough to not cost a challenge, and she knows he's driven, reliable and resourceful. We see the naive and cowardly Damien which I'm sure was still present pre-game, but there's that nuanced side that people closer to him would see that we wouldn't.

Like not letting him know about obvious danger, obviously sucks. I just like sprinkling a bit of nuance bc I dunno. They're all dumb kids and I wanna feel sympathetic towards these two silent BG characters (the gravity of Damien's situation and how it affects him WILL be explored!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

[goreunia]

Nude Portrait

Satoru laid himself dramatically across the chaise lounge in their bedroom, limbs posed like he was auditioning for a Renaissance painting. A towel was loosely draped over his hips, though he had insisted on going "full artistic expression" for Seiren’s sketching session.

“Are you ready for the world’s greatest muse?” he asked with a grin, folding his hands behind his head. “Behold… the majestic form of Satoru Gojo.”

Seiren didn’t even look up from her sketchbook. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Liar. You asked me to pose. I’m just giving you Michelangelo-level gold here.”

With a deep sigh and flushed cheeks, Seiren finally looked up. “Okay, no moving. I’m going for classical anatomy study here. Not chaos.”

Satoru nodded solemnly. “Classical. Understood. I’m a statue.”

A moment passed. Then another. Seiren’s pencil began its gentle strokes across the page, capturing his collarbone, the slope of his ribs, his long legs—

And then a sudden twitch.

Seiren froze mid-line.

“Are you—? Satoru…”

“Hm?” he hummed innocently, eyes closed.

She squinted. “You’re twitching.”

“I am a living statue. Adds authenticity.”

“Satoru.”

“What?” he cracked one eye open, smirking. “I can’t help it! You’re staring at me with that intense, hot artist gaze. And you’re sitting cross-legged right there in a tank top like some seductive art school fantasy. My body’s reacting.”

She groaned, throwing a cushion at him. “You are impossible! I just wanted to draw your anatomy like a professional. Now you’re turning into a full anatomical challenge.”

Satoru laughed, catching the pillow and placing it over his lap. “It’s a compliment, really. Your art moves me.”

“That’s not your heart that’s moved, Satoru!”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Draw it anyway. Might as well document the full glory.”

“No thank you!” she said, face hot with laughter as she tried to sketch around the problem. “This was supposed to be for my portfolio, not a hentai doujin!”

He tilted his head. “What if it becomes your portfolio? We go viral. The Gojo Collection."

She threw her sketchpad at him.

He caught it, glanced at the drawing, and beamed. “I look good. You even got my mole right.”

“Give me back my sketchpad before I erase that mole and add a comically large fig leaf.”

They both dissolved into laughter, Satoru now shamelessly rolling off the couch and crawling toward her on all fours like a ridiculous cat.

“You still love me though.”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, catching his face in her hands and kissing his forehead. “But next time, I’m drawing you in sweatpants.”

[livestock-and-bibles]

Things I've Noticed During My Several Rewatches of The Doomstar Requiem

(Lock in, this is gonna be long)

Murderface is the only one out of the group to have a completely obscured face, possession foreshadowing perhaps? Also he lacks the golden streaks on the halo-esque circles behind them. Inch resting... (Not gonna talk too much abt when the scene goes red and the beam behind Murderface is dripping blood because I believe it's already been talked about before by others, and I don't want to include anything in this post that's already been discussed) Also I love how all of their weapons match their instruments

The way Toki doesn't even flinch when he gets alcohol poured on his wound is heartbreaking, likely either because the torture his parents put him through as a kid has given him a wicked pain tolerance or because he's so dissociated, similarly to how he behaves in Dethfam when his parents are around or Dethzazz when he's mentally in the punishment hole (I do believe this sort of catatonic state he's in is what's causing him to seem so much worse off than Abigail—though his untreated diabetes + Magnus targeting him more because of his relation to Dethklok probably also adds to it—he's likely not really eating or taking care of himself)

At first I thought that Magnus was feeding them dog food, but on closer inspection I actually believe it to be human remains. Yeesh. You can see it really looks like muscle fibers, and there's bones, as well as skin that still has hair on it. Magnus Hammersmith they could never make me like you

On the table is the Klokateer from Tracking/Ishnifus and The Challenge!!

I think it's interesting how much Nathan's fantasies look like Toki's! I just think it's neat! They're more similar than they seem :)

This is the most expressive we've ever seen Charles and it makes my heart hurt AUUGHH

The way Nathan licks his lips/teeth after the "How can I be a hero when my dick's as big as a shoe" line. DISGUSTING /affectionate

Does this fan look familiar? He should, because it's Dethklok's son, Fatty Ding Dong!! Good to see he's doing well lol, and his real name is Rick, we can also assume that at LEAST four years have passed since season 1, since in season 1 episode 10, he's said to be 14. Since he has a roommate now, he is likely to be around 18 years old

(Apologies for the low quality screencap I had to nab this from Youtube) I kind of wish that the animators didn't change this original animation for the end of The Fans Are Chatting. I just feel like Nathan pushing away the Klokateers is more symbolically relevant. Nathan is quite literally pushing away the safety and security his avoidance has given him, the hologram disappearing and the fans leaving is a metaphor for the fact that he can no longer keep himself deluded into thinking that everything is fine, he can't hide from the truth anymore

Almost all of the Rock A Roonie Fantasy Camp counsellors came to the Dethklok audition, there's even the depressed blues guy in the background. There's also Sammy Candynose from Snakes 'n Barrels, so I like to think that Pickles told him about the auditions

There's also the guitarist from Get Thee Hence

Toki's shadow!!! The wings!!!

The animals they take the form of match two of the guitars Brendon Small created with Gibson, The Thunderhorse and the Snow Falcon :D

It's super tiny but their smiles :'))!!! Also the way their parts play on different sides when you listen with headphones but then combine at this part makes me so crazy. Not only does Toki challenge Skwisgaar and inspire him to get better, but they're also having fun! Which I can imagine never really happened when he played with Magnus

Probably just an animation error but Skwisgaar is animated as his present day self here. Idk, just thought that was interesting

I think the order of the rest of the band joining in on the background vocals is really interesting, it goes: Skwisgaar, Pickles, Nathan, Murderface. Personally I choose to interpret it as a representation of how long it took each member to warm up to Toki as their rhythm guitarist, Skwisgaar was super fast since he was the one to choose him, Pickles was the one wanting a new guitarist in the first place, Nathan and Magnus seemed to be close, so it would definitely take more time for him to accept Toki as the whole Magnus situation would still feel a little raw, and Murderface is a professional hater so of course it took him the longest

I really love just how soft and content Murderface looks in Toki's fantasy. We all know he has a softer side and I think that either Toki perceives it, or possibly Murderface shows it towards him (Which I can believe because they're often together and they get along pretty well, Toki is probably the person Murderface gets along with the best actually)

I also want to mention that at this part of I Believe, Toki is no longer singing along with the other's background vocals, and is harmonizing with himself, which gets really sad when you realize that it's because this was just Toki remembering this to keep himself sane and he's actually kidnapped, hurt, and alone. Ouch :(

The drunk driver who crashed into the Jomfru brothers is the same guy who crashed into Nathan's second grade class in Dethgov. I guess there's only one drunk driver that exists in the Metalocalypse universe lol

I think we as a fandom need to appreciate Eric Jomfru more. He's such a real one. The way they make you care about him after he's already gone is so evil lol /affectionate

The way the Klokateers join in on this song makes me wonder if perhaps they view each other as brothers, or if there's just like a strong sense of brotherhood between them

The groupie on the left can actually be seen in Fatherklok at the beginning of the episode, as one of the women Skwisgaar has been with, so y'know what? She has valid reasons to be mad honestly

Murderface's pose up top always sends me, sir please calm down, keep it together king

Murderface holding his wrist :(

If you look closely, you can actually see that the Revengeancers are eating Ishnifus. Which is just,, utterly horrifying

In between the shots of the band and the assassin, there's so many inconsistencies in the placement of the characters. For the last two images, I just like to rationalize it as Pickles immediately attempting to run away, then noticing that the rest of the band is still there and being like "Oh shit we're squaring up? Ok I guess". I know it's just so Nathan can be in the center when they use the Dethlights but I just think it's funny

Also in the second to last picture, the way Murderface, typically the most cowardly of the band, isn't looking at the assassin, but instead, is looking worriedly at Toki, makes my heart hurt. I adore their relationship

Murderface is actually sleeping in Nathan's bed here. If you compare different shots of their bedrooms and beds, it's clear that this is Nathan's, you can tell from the striped pillowcase. I'm not gonna talk too much about this, mostly because I want to make a separate post talking about how Murderface is seen more than once sleeping in Nathan's bed when he's hurt/unwell. It's very sweet lol

ANYWAY! Thanks for reading these rambles, I love The Doomstar Requiem so much! I might make a post like this for Army of the Doomstar as well, and also just some analysis posts if I get the confidence lol. Big thanks to @ratskal for watching this a dozen times with me and pointing out things too. (I actually reached the max limit of pictures allowed in a post which is a little funny, I am so normal about this show /lying)

[finalfantasyx]

Yue Yao (because I need to scream about her awesomeness and the dangers of retconning), Yue Qing, and How NOT to Write Women - A Rant(TM) about Dashing Youth & The Blood of Youth

Spoilers ahead for Dashing Youth and The Blood of Youth if you have not seen either live action drama, since we haven't gotten there in the donghua yet. You have been duly warned. Now come scream with me. I've been wanting to scream about this for a while.

Okay, what the hell??? Prefacing this again with the fact that I watched Dashing Youth before TBOY and I'm just...floored? Yue Yao was so interesting. She was up against some major political issues where the repercussions of her choices and the choices made by the people around her would impact and probably, most likely, cause the deaths of thousands. She was dealing with a missing father who, for all they knew, could have been dead, a clingy sister-turned-annoying-character-trope, the fate of her people, and also the fate of all of Beili and Beique (I mean, seriously, you want to talk about Yi Wenjun being at fault for instigating the three-way war between Nanjue, Tianwaitian, and Beili, AND SHE WASN'T ACTUALLY AT FAULT ASIDE FROM NOT COMMUNICATING WITH HER HUSBAND BEFORE MAKING A HUGE DECISION THAT WOULD IMPACT THEM ALL and leaving her infant son in the house BY HIMSELF, PLEASE Yue Yao would have been directly responsible for all the deaths resulting from any move she made), all the while trying to find a way to do what was best for everyone AND getting to know the prodigy and dumbass with a heart that was Baili Dongjun, whose grandfather Baili Luochen helped Beili in the war with Beique that resulted in her people being killed and displaced to the unforgiving north.

/breathe

And oh, does she ever find a way. Baby girl decides to just DIY this whole shebang when she finds the natural-born martial arts prodigies with the special meridians or whatever the hell the drama said it was that set Baili Dongjun and Ye Dingzhi apart from alllll the other martial arts practitioners and just takes her sworn sister's identity, gets a makeover, and BAM joins the Jixia Academy...audition.

Not only that, but we see that she is more than her pretty clothes and her miss-fairy-in-a-carriage persona that we've seen up until this point in the drama. SHE CAN FIGHT! SHE CAN BEAT SOMEONE'S ASS! SHE CAN CHEAT AND GAMBLE! SHE STRAIGHT UP APPROACHES BAILI DONGJUN AND CHALLENGES HIM. SHE. APPROACHES. HIM. FIRST. Also it's really freakin' cute.

SHE STANDS UP FOR HERSELF AND HER TEAMMATES AND PROTECTS THEM. SHE SAVES BAILI DONGJUN'S TAIL. SHE'S GOT HER OWN WAY OF THINKING AND SHE'S FUNNY AS HELL. SHE SLAPS HIM CLEAN ACROSS THE FACE FOR GOING TO A BROTHEL.

We see her enter Jixia Academy, we see her train under Liu Yue (which I am still salty about because we could have used a lot more scenes of her and Liu Yue training and just being master/apprentice, see her having a hard time with really just using Liu Yue to stay near Baili Dongjun for her own/Beique's ends, especially with Liu Yue declaring that he doesn't care about her true identity, just that she is now his apprentice and that means that he's always on her side please Liu Yue was the best and he got fking nuked at the end, even if he got to retire from jianghu with Mo Xiaohei lol), WE SEE HER STRUGGLE. This entire time, Yue Yao is absolutely torn between a) doing what is best for her people, b) doing what is best for everyone and not causing the deaths of thousands, and c) not falling for the guy whose grandfather is a war hero because he killed her people.

Also the fact that this dumbass she is falling in love with has been pining after her miss-fairy-in-a-carriage persona for so long he has no clue she's right in front of him. Good job, Dongjun /pat pat

Let's play this out.

If Yue Yao a) does what is best for her people, which everyone thinks is reclaiming Beili, a warmer and far more fertile land, and creating better lives for themselves, that would incite another war and cause many, many deaths. Also, there's a very, very high possibility that Beique might lose anyway!

If Yue Yao b) does what is best for everyone and not cause another war and the deaths of thousands, she is condemning her own people to a harsh life in the cold, icy, desolate north.

If Yue Yao c) falls for the guy whose grandfather is a war hero because he killed her people, she will be seen as a traitor and will be turned on because they'll think she turned on them first, especially since she is basically their princess.

What's a girl to do.

SHE FREAKIN' OWNS UP TO IT AND COMES CLEAN with Baili Dongjun and her followers, Mo Qixuan and Zi Yuji. She does not lie to them and is up front about her vision and what she wants to do for her people and for herself, because they don't have to be mutually exclusive things. She follows her heart; she knows that while she wants a better life for her people, it cannot be found in a new war with Beili to settle old grudges and claim old land. She wants to find a new home for them.

Yue 👏 Yao 👏 is 👏 so 👏 great.

...Only for all of that buildup in the first half of the drama to go absolutely nowhere as her vision is never recognized. She returns to Tianwaitian only to be locked up for betraying Beique with zero timeline as to how long she was locked up for and how she actually got out of the cage. There were no repercussions for her escaping or leaving. In fact, as soon as she leaves Tianwaitian, Yue Yao's character basically stops caring for Beique, and she literally did not matter to the plot going forward. Her people in Tianwaitian never find a better home for themselves. They never get to leave the far north, never reclaim their old kingdom, and never get to rebuild, even before Ye Dingzhi establishes the Demon Sect. Ergo, even if we disregard the events of TBOY, Yue Yao still doesn't get to help her people and all of that development was useless.

Instead, after all that talk about wanting to find a better home and do better by her people, after all the character development and establishment, after all the scenes where we get to see that Yue Yao has a backbone and the fighting skills to prove it, she ends up as arm candy for Baili Dongjun for the next like seven years while the two of them remained unmarried. Um??????????

Why build up all that character and her skills and her relationships with Liu Yue, Baili Dongjun, her freakin' sister, and Mo Qixuan/Zi Yuji only for all of them to basically go kaput? Even with Baili Dongjun, most of the time, she's...just there. Just...looking pretty. Not doing anything.

No one waits seven years to get married, especially when they're in such close quarters like Yue Yao and Baili Dongjun were pre-war and during the war. This makes zero sense, and honestly just cheapens their already-sad relationship even more because it shows a lack of respect on his part. There's no denying that he does love her, but the respect, which is based off of the values of the people in their time, is not there, whether for her honor, virtue, or just the progression of their relationship. Seven years is a long time, especially in period Chinese dramas (and reality, back in those times) when two people are hanging out in an established relationship.

Yue Yao is displeased.

And then we come to the problem of her sister, Yue Qing, who has decided to play a self-insert victim and villain, somehow both at the same time by not actually being relevant to the plot and generally not actually being good at anything at all.

Her motivation: Yue Yao is her older sister, the one she has always looked up to, and she sucks at being the eldest princess and has essentially abandoned them to chase after the sweet, sweet tail that is Neo Hou in a period drama. Ergo, Yue Qing needs to leave Beique to find the other special person martial arts prodigy, Ye Dingzhi, and homegirl does her best to manipulate the hell out of this poor, traumatized kid in order to get him back to Beique and free her father so that they can march on Beili and reclaim their kingdom. He sees right through her though, and because there is no way in the eighteen levels of hell she can beat him in a fight, and she tries, she goes back to his doorway like a kicked puppy every time he throws her out because it's clear she has no idea what on earth she's doing except that she thinks she's all that and has every reason to condemn thousands of people to their deaths so that she can incite a new war for a better life for the people of Tianwaitian.

In the same way that Yue Yao was SO great in the first half of Dashing Youth, we do not give two shakes about Yue Qing and how she is barely even relevant to the plot, because if you stuck Mo Qixuan or Zi Yuji in there to manipulate this poor bastard, the result would have ended up the same way and she does not impact the story whatsoever.

And then Ye Dingzhi saves Yue Qing's life, and all of a sudden, she understands why her sister decided to go with Baili Dongjun instead of staying in Beique, according to the story lore. It also doesn't hurt that he's pretty and he's feeding her medicine and didn't just...let her die.

PFFFFFFFFFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Yue Qing, the bar is on the floor. Also girl, you manipulated him and used him and he does not care for or about you. In fact, the only reason he saved your life was because he lashed out at you and almost killed you and felt guilty for it before he proceeded to throw you out again.

Because Ye Dingzhi is untouchable at this point, Yue Qing proceeds to then manipulate his wife, Yi Wenjun (which is another convoluted story point because she's already married and is a secondary consort to Xiao Ruojin who is an absolute monster in the actual worst way, which is why I did not feel a lick of empathy or sympathy for him in TBOY--I mean, he put her under using some drugs and it was HEAVILY IMPLIED that he gr@ped her while she was completely unconscious and everyone just kind of breezes over this plot point in the dramas), and sends her back to Tianqi by spreading false news of Xiao Yu being really, really sick (causing problems even at a young age, I see). Because of this, Ye Dingzhi is then manipulated into going to Beique to free Yue Qing and Yue Yao's father so that he can be number one in the world and take his wife back, blahhhh blah blah.

AND THEN THEIR FATHER DIES after a confrontation between him, Baili Dongjun, and Ye Dingzhi, and it's almost like Yue Qing and Yue Yao are pitting their respective special martial arts person against each other because they're both natural-born wumai which is NOT actually a thing, and I don't even understand what it is and do not care to actually translate this; IT'S SUPER DUMB.

And because the official leader of Beique, Yue Yao and Yue Qing's father, dies, Ye Dingzhi goes full demon mode and takes over the people of Tianwaitian and establishes the Demon Sect by uniting all 30-something sects in the outer regions of Beili, which was supposedly impossible until this point. He then begins the infamous three-way war between Beili, Nanjue, and Tianwaitian which Yi Wenjun then gets blamed for instigating.

UMMMM??? DOES THIS NOT SOUND FAMILIAR??? DO WE NOT ALSO KNOW OF A WOMAN WHO WAS SAID TO BE SO BEAUTIFUL THAT MEN WENT TO WAR FOR HER AND LAID SIEGE TO AN ENTIRE FREAKIN' CITY WHICH IS NOW A FAMOUS TRAGEDY? DID THE DIRECTORS OF THIS DRAMA WANT A CDRAMA VERSION?

(in case anyone is lost, the answer is Troy. It's Helen of Troy.)

Also, RUDE that her "instigating" this war is what she is known for, even in The Blood of Youth. Yi Wenjun gets blamed for this massive, awful historical event when the only thing she did was be manipulated by Yue Qing using her child. Like, what on earth /eye roll

It was also never talked about how she was coerced into this marriage by her father in TBOY (which we find out in DY) and that this was never something she wanted anyway. Also the gr@pe because that was completely unnecessary and again, breezed over by every single character in Dashing Youth, which, also, WHY did it have to happen that way? Xiao Yu's existence in TBOY could literally be explained by "marital duties" or "wedding night" or something even if the spouses hated each other, did y'all really have to sink to gr@pe????? Especially since I watch dramas for escapism and fantasy and not historical accuracy because of course this has happened probably many times over the course of history. I am angry.

We find out later that Yue Qing is locked up by Ye Dingzhi and then just dies via suicide in prison at the end of the three-way war while Yue Yao rides off into the sunset with Baili Dongjun in her fairy carriage, intent on marrying her at last after SEVEN AND A HALF YEARS TOGETHER, YES I DID THE FREAKING MATH (let me know if anyone needs an approximate timeline).

Following this trainwreck and what Dashing Youth has established, we get to the canon in The Blood of Youth, which takes place twelve years after the prequel. Now that the twelve-year pact between Tianwaitian and Beili where Ye Anshi, the son of Ye Dingzhi and Yi Wenjun, is a hostage in Beili is over, the story picks up where we see our heroes in the following places:

Baili Dongjun: Master of Xueyue City and a depressed drunk after (we learn later) mistakenly killing his wife because he was manipulated into doing so, making this the biggest regret of his life

Yue Yao: dead. Was dead before Tang Lian stepped foot into Xueyue City, and was dead because someone manipulated Baili Dongjun into thinking Yue Yao was Yue Qing and he kills her.

...wait what? But...but I thought Yue Qing died in the prison even before Baili Dongjun and Yue Yao got married in canon? I think we're told in TBOY that Yue Yao blocked an attack for her sister or died for her sister or something via her husband attacking her thinking she was her sister or I DON'T KNOW it's not really clear. The point is, the events of both dramas can't both be true or canon at the same time.

Aaaaaand we've hit one of the biggest retcon snags between the two dramas. Shifting the focus over to the problem with retcons, my first question is this: DY directors and producers, you guys had the perfect template and formula since The Blood of Youth exists and had such incredible ratings. Y'all already have a world and a story and storyline and characters to work with and are able to entirely and completely plan ahead. How did y'all come up with this dumpster fire???? And it's not even a good dumpster fire?? How could Yue Qing cause Yue Yao's death, which we are told is what happens in Baili Dongjun's dream in TBOY, if she's dead??

Other honorable problematic retcon mentions:

There's a specific voiceover at the end of DY telling us what happened to the main characters at the end of the war, and though in TBOY the story said that Lei Mengsha died fighting against Nanjue, we are shown that he and Xiao Ruofeng are both fine and victorious. WHAT???

In TBOY, we are told by Li Suwang of the Sword Heart Tomb that his daughter, Li Xinyue first met Lei Mengsha at the Sword Heart Tomb when he and his buddy his pal Baili Dongjun stopped by and convinced her to duel and then roam jianghu with them. We see that at the beginning of Dashing Youth, Lei Mengsha actually meets Baili Dongjun a LOT later in the narrative, and by then, Li Hanyi is already about five years old and Lei Mengsha and Li Xinyue have been married for A While.

Yin Luoxia and Yue Yao are shown to be sworn sisters who met and became extremely close even before the events of DY, even closer than Yue Qing and Yue Yao at their absolute tightest. Luoxia lives in Xueyue City in TBOY. She knows Baili Dongjun personally. THEY DID NOT INTERACT. SHE DIDN'T EVEN TALK ABOUT YUE YAO ONCE IN ALL THE SCREENTIME THAT SHE HAD.

Sikong Changfeng says in TBOY that Li Hanyi is four years younger than him, but started studying under their master first and this is also why she is the Second City Master and he is the Third. This is only half true; while Li Changsheng took Li Hanyi in as an apprentice, she was literally like five or six at the time. Nangong Chunshui then proceeded to take on Sikong Changfeng not long after, but Sikong Changfeng by then was already a teenager headed into his adult years. Like, he's at least eighteen when Dashing Youth starts.

Speaking of Sikong Changfeng, TBOY says that the healer Hua Jin is his shimei, his younger martial sister from their master, the number one healer in the world, Xin Baicao. DY shows us that they met the one time where Xin Baicao was told by Baili Dongjun's uncle (who was a top poison user and the two of them got into competitions all the time wink wink cough cough) to save Sikong Changfeng's life. Sikong Changfeng stayed in the Medicine Valley for something like six months, all the while studiously not learning medicine from Xin Baicao and instead focuses on his spearwork and fighting skills. Also, Hua Jin isn't in DY at all.

This one is less of a retcon issue and more of a gripe, Baili Dongjun was literal childhood friends and best buds with Ye Dingzhi. Wuxin/Ye Anshi would literally be the equivalent of his nephew/godson. Do we get to see them interact at all aside from like 5 seconds in DY???? No. We do not. WE WERE CHEATED.

Another gripe, Sikong Changfeng and Baili Dongjun were bros in Dashing Youth, and have been for many years (according to my math, it's 21 years between the beginning of Dashing Youth and The Blood of Youth) and did we get to see them actually interact in TBOY??? NO.

Oh, with all this talk of Sikong Changfeng, another gripe about HOW TO NOT WRITE WOMEN--Feng Qiuyu (who is she, you may ask???).

She is, my friends, the mother of Sikong Qianluo.

BUT DO WE REALLY KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER? No. WE BARELY REMEMBER HER NAME. SHE WAS LITERALLY WRITTEN INTO DASHING YOUTH SO THAT SIKONG CHANGFENG COULD MEET HER AND SIKONG QIANLUO COULD BE BORN. SHE WAS ON SCREEN FOR A MAX OF 5 MINUTES DURING THE DRAMA AND WAS NEVER REALLY SEEN OR TALKED ABOUT AGAIN EXCEPT FOR LIKE A MINUTE AT THE END. WE DON'T EVEN HAVE THE COURTESY OF KNOWING SHE DIED BEFORE TBOY; WE HAVE TO PUT IT TOGETHER USING CONTEXT CLUES.

I AM YELLING.

Man, I started this rant really just wanting to talk about how best girl Yue Yao was done super dirty by the producers/writers of DY, but the more I thought about it and analyzed and wrote it all down, the more I got to the underlying issue of just the less-than-lackluster way this already-awfully-written drama treated their women, the angrier I got.

All this to say, Dashing Youth does not write or treat their women very well and that, my dears, is bullshit.

[the-ace-with-spades]

Fic idea I'll probably never write:

Actor Bradley + still naval aviator Jake AU

Bradley was a theater kid and he was a really good theatre kid - his last high school won a national award for a musical he had the main male role and a play he's the main character and his theater club teacher encouraged him to send audition tape for acting schools. He does, just to get her off his back and he gets further auditions for Juilliard and Tisch, somehow.

Mav, who is trying very hard to change Bradley's plans to join the Navy by encouraging him to apply to as many colleges as he can, tells him to go, just in case he likes it. He gets a spot in Juilliard around the same time he finds out Mav pulled his papers from USNA. It's supposed to be just something to fill the time until he can join NOCS when he gets his degree, he doesn't actually think he'll be an actor full time, he just wants to be as far away from Mav and Ice as he can.

Things happen fast - he has his first Broadway role before he graduates. Within the next few years, he stars in an extremely popular TV show in one of the main male roles, he's got a side role in a box office breaking movie, and then he gets cast as the main character for a series of action movies (ala MI or FaF). He's one of those actors that does dangerous stunts himself and who is called a madman by most of his co-stars and gets a reputation as the crazy but absolutely the funniest and kindest guy ever who stars in way too many productions every year. Fans know him as the guy who engages in charity work, donates and promotes charities for orphans, veterans and minorities and as the guy that goes to random bars and sings musical numbers on untuned pianos. His main revenue are the popular action movies but he stars in more traditionally demanding roles for the challenge (dramas, tragedies, thrillers) and romantic comedies and musicals for funnsies and in indie movies way under his budget for the sake of artistic creation.

(Mav and Ice watched every single production he had been in, a few unavailable Broadway productions aside. Most of them, they have on DVDs.)

He had a lot of luck because his breaking side role was directed by one guy and that guy loved him and pushed him into many of his movies later and then the same happened with another two directors.

His career hits a tough point when his sexuality comes out (unwillingly). There are rumors and a lot of people who were fans of his action movies come around and talk shit about him and he decides to take a break from acting for a bit.

He's a year into the break when his friendly director calls and says he's got a military action movie for him. A movie about naval aviators, about fighter pilots. To be filmed raw, in real planes, in real flight, with real pilots.

Bradley says no straight away. But then his friend is like, I know you've got a pilot licence already and you fly planes for fun, don't you want to share the fun with the rest of the cast, don't you want to fly a fighter jet?

Bradley has always wanted to fly a fighter jet, that's what hurts most about it all, so he agrees.

He hasn't talked to Mav or Ice for over fifteen years when he finds out that the Dagger Squadron the cast got their assigned pilots from is led by Pete Maverick Mitchell and said Pete Maverick Mitchell is going to be performing the most demanding jet stunts needed for the movie.

Bradley's assigned pilot for the rest of the film is a very reluctant Jake Hangman Seresin.

Hangman doesn't watch movies and definitely not action movies. He's a romantic comedy kinda guy because his life is an action movie with ad breaks for paper work and training. So he doesn't know Bradley and like hell he's going to be flying for some hollier than thou actor - he's going to put him in his place and make him puke as many times as possible the minute he sits in his backseat.

It doesn't work. Bradshaw doesn't puke once. He's almost impressed.

He's definitely impressed when Bradshaw stops by the Hard Deck, looking absolutely not like someone who earns millions every year, wearing an old Hawaiian shirt, an old pair of jeans, sunglasses and a worn out Casio watch, and Nikes that have seen better days and sits down at the piano with Jake's squad and bursts out songs after songs, sounding like a freaking angel. He has to leave when people start asking about autographs from left and right.

Maybe Bradshaw is hot, whatever. He still doesn't think he's a big deal, he's probably a mediocre actor at best, some pretty boy with rich parents that could send him to acting school and who probably grew up with money that could buy him a career.

They have problems working together, obviously, and Bradley is like, fuck that, and tells him the address of a private airport and tells him to show up at four.

Jake thinks he's going to make him fly a small private plane for the sake of bonding but instead Bradshaw packs into the passenger seat of a new piston sport plane and starts it off. Doesn't explain anything, just takes Jake up in the sky, ignores his chatter until they're in the air space where he can do some funny bits and maneuvers.

At some point, the plane tells him Bradshaw is pulling 6 Gs.

In the end, Bradshaw tells him, "I don't care what you think of me, I just want you to fly the goddamn plane like I'd."

And okay, maybe Hangman starts finding him a bit hot.

He googles him. And watches some of his movies. And his rom coms and his musicals and he reads and reads and maybe Bradshaw isn't that bad.

They start to talk between film takes and then he takes Bradshaw to relax to a taco stand where he won't be recognised. Then to an ice cream place, and bowling, and surfing, and then again and again, until finally, Bradley lands at Jake's house.

In Jake's bed.

Everything would be absolutely fine but not even a few days later not only tabloids find out all about Bradshaw's gay navy romance - his sexual orientation being a topic Bradley's been avoiding as much as he could in the past year - but also about all the things he's told Jake during their dates, like about Goose and about his (unnamed) Navy gay parents and about how tough it was for him in college and then how tough it was being in the closet while in the industry.

Obviously, Bradley thinks the worst about Jake and how all that info surfaced.

(this gets somehow resolved but I didn't think that far - they get together and Bradley reconciles with Mav and Ice and they have an awkward meet the parents moment when Hangman finds out)

[winnielewoo]

o captain, my captain

my friend ophelia / @crybabysunflower gave me a fic req for this one shot about zen being casted as neil in a dead poets society play. this is. incredibly niche and probably only for a very specific audience, but i love mysme, i love zensung, and dps is one of my favorite films of all time. so i'm posting it here for said specific audience. enjoy! small note: this one shot references another fic of mine (also written from ophelia's idea, tonight i promise you -- long story short, it's a yoosung character study slash angst fic where yoosung attempts suicide. he navigates his grief and how to pick himself back up from his attempt from the support of the RFA. i have not gotten around to continuing it because me? consistency? #LOL but one day for sure) ao3 link to this fic

ao3 link to tonight, i promise you CW: mentions of suicide word count: 3,800

Zen has always accepted a multitude of roles. The more seasoned he becomes in his career, the more selective he is. Rather than blind acceptance, he's started to pick roles that would go beyond what he’s typically used to playing. Roles that would challenge him. Roles that he felt he could confidently bring to life from the pages of a well-bound script. 

When he heard Dead Poets Society was getting a Korean stage adaptation, he immediately rushed to audition as Todd. Todd seemed to relate to his desire of playing a variety of characters, and though Todd’s meekness contrasted his own natural elusiveness to the spotlight, he wanted to try his hand at playing someone like him. Someone that reminded him a bit of Yoosung, at least on-script.

So when Zen receives the final cast list on his phone, alerting him of having been casted with the email attachment displayed in bold, his heart fills with joy. It only immediately  drops when he sees who he’s casted as.

Not Todd Anderson, the boy with a beaming heart, the boy who struggled bursting himself free from a cage that he locked himself in. Timid, awkward. A true challenge. 

But Neil Perry. The golden boy. The tragedy. 

Zen looks at the cast list again, reads his name next to the character’s several times. He’s unsure of what to think, or how to even feel. He knows the story, the script. And he knows a character like Neil Perry – a bold, courageous student with dreams to be an actor – seemed right up his alley. But in fact, it’s so right up his alley that the idea of playing a character nearly identical to him scares him. Especially with Neil’s fate. Especially after…

He decides to call his manager, putting a temporary pause to his thoughts. Yoosung is still at the clinic, and will probably be home in the next hour. So their apartment is eerily quiet as he hears the faint ring on his phone, waiting for his manager to pick up.

“Zen! Assume you got the cast list already? Congrats–”

“I can’t do it,” Zen cut in, voice rising. “I auditioned for Todd, not Neil.”

“But isn’t Neil a much better role for you? He’s one of the more important characters in the play. The one who haunts the narrative. Don’t you usually love roles like that?”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Yes and no. I was specifically aiming for Todd because – well – I thought he could be a challenge. But Neil is…” A heavy pause. Zen wasn’t sure how to explain this to his manager without saying more than he’s supposed to. How he’s going to word this in a way that makes sense.

“I just can’t,” Zen finally ends up saying. “It’s just a personal preference. Can’t we talk about this with the director again?”

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up over this,” his manager sighs. “This is the first time I’m seeing you worked up over getting casted as essentially the main character. And don’t tell me you don’t think you’re capable of a character like Neil.”

“But–”

“You played a genius detective with eyebags bigger than craters. You played a doctor in fishnets. And now you’re telling me you can’t play a student who wants to be an actor?” His manager, bless his heart, really tries his best. “Doesn’t that drive you all the way home? Come on, Zen. Think about how important this is.”

“I am. But I’m asking you to consider how comfortable I feel playing a character I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for.”

“Well, prepare for it. You’ve got two months in rehearsals. I think that’s more than enough time. Listen.” His manager stops for a moment, draws a breath. “I know the subject matter of the play is something difficult for you to tackle. But you’re Zen. Think of it as coming to terms with something you’ve struggled to accept – some kind of way for you to look at things differently.”

Zen stares up at his ceiling, leaning against his kitchen’s counter. He knows what his manager is trying to say – but it’s easier said than done.  He’s tried before, and failed, to reconcile with his past. With what happened to Yoosung. What is playing a deeply personal role going to do but rub more salt in the wound?

But… he’s right. Feelings aside, this play would be one of his very few non-singing roles. This opportunity is a learning experience, a way to further his craft and his name in the starlight. Zen could be professional, couldn’t he? He’s an actor, for God’s sake. He’s only playing a character. 

What would Yoosung think?

“I’ll call you back,” Zen finally says, searching his pockets for his cigarettes. “I need to think about it.”

“Well you better think relatively quickly. The director will be asking for us as soon as tomorrow.”

“Aight, aight, got it. Thanks.” He fists his cigarette box and takes one out, now eyeballing his lighter. Yoosung hated the smell of nicotine in the apartment, so he often went upstairs to smoke once Yoosung had moved in.

Finally, he finds his lighter and ascends to the rooftop. It’s cool out now, with the early freckles of winter already settling into Seoul. He lights the cigarette and lets his body warm itself to the smoke. 

Yoosung didn’t die, he reminds himself. I didn’t die. I ran away. I took my chances. I lived. Why the hell should I play a character that didn’t get to do any of those things?

A part of him imagines Yoosung, once he gets home, and what he would say if he tells him all of this. Yoosung, ever since he graduated, is more tender and quiet. He’s more careful than he used to be when they met – though he’s always known how to comfort others, he carries himself in a way that feels lived-in now, more loved. It makes Zen pale in comparison.

He imagines Yoosung’s scarred hands, stitched up from animals he’s cared for in the past (and from himself, too). He pictures the way those hands would cup his face, running his thumbs against his skin. 

“Maybe that’s why you should play him, Zenny,” he could hear Yoosung say, echoing warmly in the confines of his chest. “Because you understand him so well. Because you’ve been him. Because maybe I’ve been him, too.” 

Zen, not even finished with his cigarette, tosses it on the ground. He stomps on the remaining ashes to put out the flame. He exhales, smoke gushing out from his teeth, and takes out his phone. If he misses his boyfriend so much, he might as well text him to tell him what happened.

His first rehearsal is in a black box theatre – raw, only the bare skeleton of a set, with harsh lighting. He steps in to see what would be Neil and Todd’s bedroom. There are two single beds with shelled books arranged messily on a desk. 

After reading the script twice over on the way here, he could feel his lungs constrict themselves further and further. Now, in this set, he is 15 years old again. He’s sitting on the foot of his bed, head hung low, as his father tells him that pursuing music is pointless. That going into acting did the opposite of promising stability. That being in theatre is no profession for well bred men. That beauty is a vanity and ambition is a sin. 

He remembers the way he clenched his jaw, tightened his fists, taking the weight of his father’s words and thrashing it on the floor. He remembers the way he would stare at the mirror in his room, deep red eyes staring back at him, making a promise to live his life no matter the cost.

Neil would never grow old enough to prove his own father wrong. 

But Zen had. 

Zen eventually gets to meet the other cast members – the Dead Poets, the brazen mentor that would change the course of their lives forever. Neil’s parents. He’s worked with who would be his show-father in the past, and the familiarity comforts him. Mr. Han – Eungil Han, not Jumin Han – is an older stage veteran, with silver in his hair and tenderness in his eyes, who’s played more roles than Zen count on both his fingers and toes. For someone cast as a tyrant father, Eungil always seems to have a gentleness to him, a perpetual humbleness that follows him wherever he goes. 

During the first reading, Zen and Mr. Han approach the father-son scene with a tenseness that immediately shakes Zen’s nerves. He adapts himself over the table to become one with Neil – to the point where his feelings become more brutal and raw with every word that leaps off his mouth.

“We are trying very hard,” Mr. Han – as Thomas Perry – carefully says. His words seethe with carefully constrained anger, pacing around the room, script still in his hand. Zen sits with a frightening stillness as his show-mother furrows her eyebrows in concern. “I don’t understand why it is that you insist on defying us.” 

Zen stares off into the distance, numbing himself. He supposes this would be how Neil feels, too. 

“Whatever the reason,” he continues, more composed, “We’re not gonna let you ruin your life.” 

Zen braces for the words to come next – which he knows from the script. His jaw clenches when his show-father says “Tomorrow I’ll be withdrawing you from Welton, and enrolling you right into military school” and his emotions bubble into blind rage.

“You’re going to Harvard,” he says, with the kind of finality that feels almost identical to Zen’s own father, all those years ago. “And you’re going to be a doctor.” 

Zen, as Neil, flickers his eyes in disbelief, in anger, in rebellion. But he suppresses the last thing – he chooses to be more subdued, more helpless, to represent Neil’s confusion. 

“But that’s ten more years!” Zen exclaims, in confusion. “Father, that’s a lifetime–”

“Oh, stop it!” Mr. Han cuts him, his words set like a blade against Zen’s skin. “Don’t be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term.”

Zen leaps from his seat, his heart in his throat. But it is, he wants to improv, but couldn’t. Instead he moves to the side of what would be the stage, to show the audience his anguish. 

“You don’t understand, Neil!” The scene begins to rise, to take intensity. This is one of Zen’s favorite parts of rehearsal – but why does this hurt him so much? 

“You have opportunities that I have never even dreamt of,” his father says, each word more painful than the last. The guilt sizzles into his bones, the anger of feeling guilty follows. “And I am not going to let you waste–”

“But I’ve gotta tell you what I feel,” Zen explodes, exasperated, heart searing in his throat. He paces back to Mr. Han, moving his hands to pound against his chest to represent what his heart wants, not his mind. To confound against logic, against stability and survival – but for passion, for love, for ambition. 

His show-mother opens her mouth to speak, to get in a few words, but unlike the script, she is cut short. Zen supposes it’s the pain of being a mother – of watching everything unfold but feeling like you are unable to take a side. He wonders if his mother ever felt that way with him – but realizes she probably didn’t. 

“Then tell me what you feel, Neil,” Mr. Han eventually interjects. The script is wrapped in his hand, almost a weapon. 

Tell me what you feel. 

Zen looks at Mr. Han. All he sees is his father. Stonewalled anger, apathy, a lack of understanding. A lack of connection. He had less wrinkles back then, and the silver did not quite reach his widow’s peak. He’d always worn suits, and Zen seldom saw him without one. 

His father is a caricature in his mind, but he lingers. Tell me what you feel. The words are not comforting, they’re taunting. They’re daring him to come out with the truth if he were bold enough to say it aloud. If he dared to challenge them. 

What is it?

Zen’s anger overtakes his father’s. It surges through his bones, a relentlessness that shakes his very being. The silence is deadly. Zen, even at 15, knew how to clench his fists. 

I want to live. I want to be free. I know what my dream is. I was born to do it. 

“Is it more of this– this acting business?” His father, Mr. Han, whoever, laughs. Mocking Neil. Mocking Zen. 

“Because you’re going to forget that.”

“I’m not,” Zen says, under his breath. His eyes are wild, like an animal’s. A ghost seems to come alive inside of him as the words leave his mouth.

“What?” His show-father whispers, eyes piercing into him, beckoning him to come out and fight. Zen has to suppress the urge to speak back, to grow louder, to become a beast that ravages. Because that’s not Neil.

Neil and Zen would’ve both died to pursue their dreams. The only difference is that Neil did. 

He imagines what he would do if he had not run away. How he would have reacted. His mind stills, and he watches the ghost go back and sit. He follows – he is faint, like all life drains itself from his skin. 

“Nothing,” Zen – or Neil – eventually breathes. His eyes are wide, a state of shock.  “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” Mr. Han echoes, unsure of himself. Eungil encapsulates the character perfectly. He is stern, but he struggles at the edges of his being. He watches him for a few more moments as Zen assumes nothingness, like he’s floating. “Alright, then. Let’s go to bed.”

There’s a brief pause. “Then I exit the stage,” Eungil adds, out of character, looking back at the script. It partially brings Zen back to earth, back to the present. He feels less dizzy, less on the verge of tears. 

He looks out to what would be the audience, his expression unreadable. His show-mother moves to lean over him, a hand outreached to try and console him. But she can’t. Zen stares upwards, as if watching life pass by him in mere seconds. The idea of even trying to capture this sort of reprieve makes him want to vomit. 

“I was good,” he smiles, defeated. An ache swells in his chest as he watches his 15 year old self play guitar in public for the first time, singing for the onlookers, the cheers still ringing in his ears.  “I was really good.”

A few rehearsals swim past, and eventually, it gets easier for Zen to settle into the role. He creates a personhood with Neil, a version of himself that succumbed to weakness. A raw, cracked version of himself that he swore to never reveal to anyone. Zen acts with ferocity, bringing a more tough side to the character than expected. 

So when the curtains fall, and Neil meets his bitter end, his choice is emphasized. Neil did not give up. He made a statement.

This is how Neil felt. This is what he wants to express to the world, to his friends, his parents. 

He’s practicing lines with Eungil, Neil’s lines almost plagiarized from Zen’s ribs. “I’m gonna act! I’m gonna be an actor, for Chrissakes – an actor.” The line still hits him like a bullet. It’s hard not to linger on a memory of when he said those exact words and meant it with his entire soul. 

He remembers his parents’ reaction afterwards. The sharp slap on his face, the mark it left behind. Then the blur of what happened afterwards – how he found himself with a duffel bag on the streets with nothing but determination and fear and the resolve that he had to do this.

Zen doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Eungil places a hand on his shoulder. He offers a light pink thermos that’s always placed near him – “Camomile tea,” Eungil says, popping it open. “It’s good for your throat.” Zen silently accepts it and takes a sip, letting the warmth soothe his chest.

Eungil watches him for a moment, wordlessly. Zen wonders if Eungil ever felt like this when playing a role in the past. He must have, or else he wouldn’t have been an actor.

“Sorry,” Zen eventually chuckles, dryly. “Neil’s kind of hard for me to crack into. He’s… uh, well, personal. You can understand, right?” 

Eungil’s smile brightens with the folds in his wrinkles. He leans back on his chair, nodding. “Of course. Of course I do. I’m sure almost everyone here can relate to Neil, in some way.” 

“His story–” He’s unsure as to why he’s even saying this aloud, to a colleague, to someone who has no business knowing “ – it’s just. It’s just really personal. And it’s shitty that I can’t put my feelings aside while playing him, y’know?” 

Eungil pauses, rubbing his chin. Zen takes another sip of the tea, blowing on it before it burns his tongue. They only had a handful of rehearsals left before opening night – he needed to find a way to make this work. But he just didn’t know how. 

“Don’t break for him,” Eungil eventually says, gesturing at the script. “Break through him. If he represents you, or what it means to be an actor, show the world your ambition through Neil. Use him as a tool to bring your desire to life, not as a catalyst to show what you couldn’t have done.” 

During one of the first dress rehearsals, Yoosung found the time to start following along whenever he was allowed to. Zen often protests against it – he’s so busy already, having his own clinic and managing it –  but Yoosung always insists.

“I love watching you,” Yoosung would say, tucking his arm underneath Zen’s. “I get boyfriend privileges of seeing you rehearse before opening night, don’t I?” 

He does.

Yoosung stays for rehearsals two to three times a week. He buys lunch for the cast, makes a special bento for Zen, and often slips in between appointments at the clinic just to catch a quick glimpse of him. 

He always watches him wordlessly, in awe. But he never says anything afterwards – no compliments, no notes on his performance, like he usually does. Instead, Yoosung holds Zen’s hand a little tighter after every rehearsal, squeezing his fingers. As if he knows that there are parts of Zen being torn apart and stitched anew with every time he practices his lines, with every time he gives Neil his bittersweet end. 

Even at home, Zen practices his monologues to himself. He catches Yoosung watching him still, silently, assuredly. Their eyes meet for a moment – Zen smiles, half-assed, awkwardly. He’s gotten used to being this way around Yoosung. 

Yoosung leans over and kisses Zen’s forehead – gentle, butterfly-soft. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Yoosung breathes, leaning his chin against Zen’s temples. “You really were born to be an actor.” 

“I am?” Zen smirks, pulling Yoosung closer by his waist. He’s wearing one of Zen’s old hoodies, fresh out of the shower. He smells like baby powder and shampoo. “What else?”

Yoosung pulls away, squinting at him. “Are you fishing for compliments right now?”

“Of course.”

“Hmph.” Yoosung moves back in, hugging him so that Zen’s senses are filled with his boyfriend’s scent. It’s an odd comfort, but one that is and always will be undoubtedly his. 

“I’m glad you became one,” Yoosung adds, quietly. “An actor. I couldn’t have pictured you doing anything otherwise.”

A beat passes between the two of them. Zen’s heart aches, yet it doesn’t sting. He holds Yoosung closer, feeling his heartbeat thump against his ears. 

“Me too.”

Opening night is powdered in snowfall.

December frost spins and trickles all over the city, snowflakes and ice clinging to sidewalks and window panes. It creates a pale coat that feels almost characteristic to the play – yet the theatre is warm, casting a golden glow over the stage. The RFA members sit near the front row, courtesy of Zen. Jaehee is beaming, a birthday treat well spent. Jumin is straight-faced next to her, fingers rubbing his bottom lip in intrigue. Saeyoung is wearing a stupid t-shirt with Zen’s face on it, the words “CARPE DIEM” lazily plastered in pink glittery font, reacting to everything so visibly that Zen couldn’t help but laugh internally.

And Yoosung. Yoosung sits next to Saeyoung, a look of recognition in his eyes – yet still, he watches like it’s the first time. 

The beginning act has Zen’s pulse beating in the back of his eyes, like every opening night he’s ever had. But the play settles into his lungs, and he gets into the groove of things – of being Neil. Of being bold and loud and courageous, of singing carpe diem until his body gives out. And meaning it, with every fibre of his being. 

One of his final scenes approaches, and perhaps one of the most important in the play. Backstage, Zen quickly changes into his intricate crown of flowers and branches, the bracelets rustling as he moves. 

Neil appears on the stage. The spotlight is blinding, but the light casts a glow that becomes a silent blessing. He says his monologue, each word heavier than the last. 

“If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended…”

Once again, Zen is a teenager. He’s auditioning in every play he can imagine, acting in community shows for free. He’s doing everything he can to make ends meet. He makes deals he can’t look back on, he does things he will always regret.

But all of those choices led to this. To be standing on a stage, almost a decade into his career as an actor. He’s been in dramas, musicals, plays. He has a fan base, people who believe in him. He has friends, people that love and support him, and his colleagues, who understand him in a level he never thought possible.

He has Yoosung, who he catches a glance of, meeting his gaze intently. 

When Zen looks at him like this, so far away from him in the audience, he remembers the hospital room, all those years ago. The wires. The way Zen found him in his star-wallpaper plastered room. How he carried him in his arms, and ran like Zen had never ran before. How Zen did not believe in any God, but still prayed sleeplessly. How they both picked themselves up from the ground, and together, chose something even harder than dying. 

How neither of them were Neil.

How both of them lived. 

[blues-valentine]

let’s talk about how gina compliments ricky’s love language so much and he was able to be himself in this relationship as opposed to nini

You know, I appreciate how much this season made emphasis on how both Nini and Gina react differently to Ricky's love gestures. Nini felt suffocated by him. Gina wanted him to fight for her and do those big gestures. And both reactions are valid. I made a post last season about how Ricky and Gina’s love languages complement each other and I love how the show proves me correct on how I interpret this characters. This is going to be a lengthy post.

Ricky is pretty much a huge gestures type of guy. He is unabashedly romantic when he wants to be. He is also incredible clingy and someone that needs reassurance and affirmations. He gives love by big gestures and likes to receive love by words of affirmation.

His relationship with Nini ever since the start of the series showed how incompatible they’ve become for each other. To start off, I think Nini was unable to understand Ricky’s family situation because hers is very different so it might have been because of this that she didn’t understand his reaction towards a public declaration of love (his parents probably didn’t do that anymore). She was unable to identify what he needed from her and he failed to communicate why he felt that way. It goes both ways. He needed to say the words when he felt he was ready to say it. And that's very imporant.

But also, the first thing we learn about their relationship is that Nini feels like she was able to shine over the summer and it’s hoping for new opportunities that she feels Ricky holds her back from. Ricky is resistant to this and tries out for the musical to get her back, an idea Nini is not happy about because she feels he is invading her space. During his audition, he performs a song for Nini to try and tell her he loves her. He thinks is a declaration of love but for Nini is not. But Gina is actually impressed by this. And so, even with the first episode, the show lists many reasons why they don’t seem to be compatible anymore. Nini doesn’t like Ricky’s easy going approach to things. And is absolutely fair. I think she needs someone that pushes her to be more ambitious and that shares the same desire for challenges.

Ricky confessing his love for Nini in an outburst at the end of Season 1 felt like he forced it out because he knew that’s what she needed to hear from him to get back together. He was afraid to lose that sense of familiarity. It’s what makes his love confession to Gina so different because it was intentional. He was so sure and so confident and he wanted to tell her that despite not knowing what the future holds.

Early on Season 2, it's made clear they have completely different ideas on what the other is willing to do for each other. Ricky relied too much on her to have some sense of stability because everything at his home keeps falling apart. Nini just wants to spread her wings and it’s willing to go far to pursue her dreams (“I resolve to follow my dreams however far away they take me”) which is why she felt so trapped and suffocated by him. Ricky’s abandonment issues made him clingier than usual. I also think she was a bit rude at times and had a hard time trying to understand him. Like, when he said he was told he had not profitable qualities on the aptitude test and she brush it off and told him she didn’t come back for him. It was pretty harsh. I don't think neither of them knew what the other needed emotionally anymore. It was a bit of a mess and Ricky didn’t even know what he was supposed to do. Ricky’s love language for her was quality time and gestures but I don’t think that was Nini’s vibe. It got to a point she wasn’t receptive of his attempts at fixing their relationship. And as I said, Ricky needs to feel that his attempts are at least appreciated. And Nini never really did a good job at lifting him up.

A lot of Ricky's issues with how it went down with Nini is that he was dealing with his mom abandonment issues and Nini wasn't putting the same efforts into staying with Ricky (long distance or otherwise) and she's valid for this. But seeing it from Ricky's perspective too is like another person is also choosing to leave him.

Now, Gina is someone that wants to feel wanted. She wants people to fight for her. This is probably due to her family and how they didn’t put her as a priority growing up. How her mom barely even validates what’s important for her. This is why she liked EJ at first, because he gave her the attention she needed at that time. And it’s fair to say Gina gives love by words of affirmation and gifts. And likes to receive love by gestures and quality time. Same as Ricky.

She was impressed by Ricky singing to Nini at auditions on the pilot. She told Ricky to sing the song to Nini by the phone on Valentine’s Day because “every girl [her] likes a sweet gesture”. She threw a big surprise party for Carlos when they weren't even that close yet. She likes huge gestures. And I don’t think it was a coincidence when Ricky asked her back in Season 2 *if they were dating* and he went behind her back but for a good reason (and the whole thing about asking Miss Jenn if she can add Nini to the show last minute) if she’d like it. Gina answers that she would be flattered. Ricky took Gina's words without considering that this is not something Nini would want. For Ricky, it’s so they can spent more time together (and Gina sees it that way too) but Nini does not. She sees it as an added pressure. And you see how much Ricky's midset has been altered by his relationship with Nini that on Season 4 he thinks Gina would be relieved by Dani taking her place as Gabriella because she's been too busy with the movie despite him wanting them to spend time together. And Gina isn’t happy. For her, the the show is also a thing for them.

The season actually makes a lot of parallels to this. It also parallels this especifit moment from Season 2 when Ricky wants to send a *dumb* text to Nini that says something about "he is happy she's following her dreams but also he wishes he was her dream. And wants her to turn aroud and come back here. I believe the word he used was forever." And we know Nini would've felt pressured by that text. And that’s understandable. But the writers are so funny because on 408 during Gina's confessional she says she hasn't made a decision about the movie yet and wishes Ricky would fight for her a little more. And in Ricky's confessional he says he once told a girl (Nini) to stay home and it didn’t end too well so he doesn't want to make the same mistake. But Gina wants for Ricky to be Ricky and go all and beyond. But he has grown too much to be selfish. But he does end up doing what Gina wants by singing to her about forever fully expecting her to follow her dreams away from him without even knowing Gina had already decided to follow her dreams and be with him too. We truly love a full circle.

Moving to Season 3, it’s clear Gina likes the feeling of sharing things with a partner, and she saw how EJ was unable to give her that or even make space for her to be a priority but I do think there’s a lot of growth on Gina about understating the needs of her partner too. For example, Gina was able to give Ricky space after the whole Halloween situation. Ricky called her asking her for space and she allowed. It wasn't a break up, just mutual understanding that everyone needs a minute to take it all in and it's not because they don’t want to face it.

On Season 4, right off the bat, it shows us Gina embraces Ricky’s dorky and clingy side a lot. She likes his unexpected visits and ideas. She likes when Ricky plans stuffs and sneaks into her trailer. She likes when Ricky texts her a lot. Gina wants to feel that love because she lacked a lot of that growing up. Unlike Nini, who wanted to be free and get new experiences. Gina likes the stability Ricky provides her. And another thing Sofia said on a interview is that Gina likes how Ricky is very easy going because Gina is already too perfectionist. But mostly, I think you can appreciate how Gina encourages Ricky to be a little more ambitious while Ricky encourages Gina to be more relaxed. To be more giddy and bring down her walls. Nini felt like she coulnd't be truly herself around Ricky while Gina is the total opposite, she feels seen and understood with him because he is able to give her that with the way he is. And Gina does it to Ricky in return by making him feel wanted and appreciated for who he is. I do hope Nini finds someone (preferentially a girl) that makes her feel that way too. Seen and understood.

And also, let's point out how both Ricky and Gina's love language is also physical touch because they are unable to stop touching each other even if by friendly little shoulder touches. They’re unable to stop kissing each other. Gina can’t stop cupping Ricky’s cheeks. Or holding hands. In conclusion, Ricky and Gina are perfect and love each other so much. And their love story is so well written and for the books.

[wanderinginksplot-writes]

Gar Cyare Chapter Sixteen

The lockdown ends. Alpha has a serious discussion with the ARCs-in-training.

Word Count: 3,600

Warnings: References to past threats, teasing, mentions of physical training, serious conversation, discussions of war.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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Jorhaa'ir (Talk)

After a total of four days on lockdown, the Kaminoans finished a full audit of their systems. The information that had been sliced and duplicated was largely limited to what General Ti had discovered before beginning the original investigation. 

The threat level was still considered to be high, but the Kaminoans started to fortify the areas that were deemed to be the most at-risk. The additional troopers were dismissed back to their previous assignments. You had been just as sad to see Neyo leave a second time, but you and Alpha had spent quite a bit of time with him in the few days he was on Kamino. 

The Null troopers were some of the last to leave, but they came to say goodbye personally. 

You hadn’t been thrilled when they came through the door of your office, but Alpha had clearly been holding himself back, simply asking, “What.” 

“Just came to get her decision about our deal,” A’den told him with a smile. 

“I’ll help you,” you told him, eyes on the datapad you were working on. There was a victorious sort of noise from one of the six men and you looked at them sharply. “With the understanding, of course, that I’m doing this of my own free will. I’m not working for you or doing anything outside of finding Ko Sai’s journals. Even then, if I need to stop, I will.” 

“You’re a bold little civvie,” Kom’rk said. “I don’t see a problem with those terms.”

“I do,” Ordo countered. “If we leave, it’ll be harder to get back on Kamino. We can’t just hope she isn’t going to change her mind.”

“Have you broken the code for the journals’ location yet?” you asked. 

Ordo gave you a hard look. “No.”

“Then unless you’re going to hide on Kamino and hope no one finds you before you can get to the journals, accepting my offer might be your only choice.” 

“We don’t have a better option,” Jaing said lowly. “It’s either this or try to find a way back on-planet later. There’s nothing to lose.” 

“We accept your offer,” Prudii told you, wearing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“We’ll be in touch when we find out something about the location of the journals,” Mereel said, tapping the comlink on his vambrace. Your comlink chimed and you glanced down at it. “That’s the code we’ll reach out from. If you see anything from another code, don’t answer it.” 

“Got it,” you said, saving the code into the comlink’s directory and linking it to your datapad in case something happened to your comlink. “I’ve gotten a few more parts of the coded message translated if you want them. It looks like a rotational cipher of some kind, but it’s hard without a key.” 

Ordo gave a derisive snort, but Kom’rk stepped forward. “Let me see it. I want to see how you’ve done so far.” 

You held out the cipher, marked with theories and final decisions on what different letters were. Kom’rk studied the flimsi for a moment, nodding slowly. “We’ve got a lot of the same letters done. It looks like your work is right.” 

“Do you want me to comm you when I get the rest done?” you asked. 

“It’s not safe,” Ordo cut in. “The more transmissions that pass between us, the more likely it is that someone will notice. And since long-distance transmissions from Kamino are monitored, it’s better if you just wait for us to contact you.” 

“Have you thought about how we’ll do a data transfer, then?” Alpha made it sound like a challenge. “The kaminii are gonna notice if we start transmitting secret data.” 

“I’m glad you’re so confident, Captain,” Prudii said with a smile. “But let’s focus on one thing at a time. We’ll find a way to get the data from you when there’s data to transfer.” 

“The transport is getting ready to leave,” Mereel reported. “Let’s go.” 

“We’ll be in touch,” A’den told you, just before he left, closing the door behind him. 

You sighed. “They’re exhausting.” 

Alpha snorted. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say about them. I have to wonder how Skirata managed to get all six of ‘em on Kamino at once. The kaminii never liked the Nulls, and they especially hated Skirata.” 

“Maybe the Nulls were the compromise,” you suggested. “If they weren’t allowed to come, Skirata would come instead.” 

A surprised laugh burst from Alpha as he looked down at you. “Maybe so, little one.” 

“Why don’t they like him?” you asked after a moment, curious despite yourself. 

“Asks too many questions,” Alpha answered immediately. “They don’t like anyone who does that. Reminds me of you that way. He thinks the clones are the greatest thing since the hyperdrive. Wants to protect all of ‘em, give us lives.” 

You hummed. That didn’t sound like a bad thing, but there was something in the way Alpha said Skirata’s name that told you he didn’t care for the man. “Sounds like we would get along.” 

Alpha grumbled in Mando’a for a second. “You’d either menace the entire galaxy or try to kill each other. Or both, depending on the minute. It’d be hell.”

“Flatterer,” you accused, smiling. 

He worked very hard at being grumpy for another few seconds, but an answering smile spread slowly across Alpha’s face. “You would take that as a compliment.” 

“Of course,” you agreed. “I’m sure you weren’t trying to insult me.” 

Alpha opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the chiming of his comlink. “Hold that thought, mesh’la. I have to take this.” 

You watched him step a polite distance away to answer the comlink, still smiling to yourself. The tension had eased slowly from Kamino since Tipoca City was released from lockdown. There were still more guards that usual around the laboratories, and the process of getting information for your report had grown even longer, but the departure of the troopers had been a signal that things were getting back on track. 

Alpha ended the short conversation, turning back to you with an expression of resignation. “I have to get back to the ARCs. Since Kamino’s security is going back to normal levels, training needs to pick back up. You coming?” 

“Definitely,” you decided, catching up with him easily before he left your office. 

The training for that day was relatively simple - exercises to make sure that fitness levels for the ARCs-in-training hadn’t dropped in their brief time away from training, then a group exercise meant to challenge them at all of their weak points. 

You watched Salvo defer leadership to let one of the other troopers take over, then saw Aftermath stop for one of the others who had fallen. “They’re coming along, aren’t they?” 

“Yeah, they’ll turn out okay,” Alpha agreed absently, making notes on a datapad. “They were always going to.” 

“Really?” you asked, skeptical. Alpha quirked a brow, his silent question clear even as his gaze stayed focused on his datapad. “You seemed worried earlier in their training. Something about them lacking the motivation to be ARCs.” 

Alpha finally let the datapad drop away from his face, narrowing his eyes at you. “That’s all training talk, neverd’ika. I haven’t failed a group yet. This was never going to be the ones to change that. They just needed some… motivation.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t realize there was psychological warfare happening at the same time as the physical training.” 

“Yes you did,” Alpha argued. “I told you that at the beginning of this.” 

“You did,” you conceded after taking a moment to think about it. “I guess I didn’t think you had the patience to follow through on it.” 

“I always have patience for the important things.” Alpha glanced at the field, mouth flattening into a harsh line. “Like… Maw! Put the karkin’ datapad away or I will make you repeat this exercise as a solo mission!”

By the time you had settled your heart rate, Alpha had already turned back to you with an expectant look on his face. You shook your head slowly. “I forget how loud you are, sometimes.” 

“Thank you.” 

“How much longer does this group have?” you asked, deciding that it wasn’t worth it to follow up on the ‘compliment’ you had given him. “They’re a few weeks in, aren’t they?” 

“They’ve been here for a month, so they only have two weeks left.” Alpha’s tone had gone distant once more as he focused on the ARCs-in-training. 

“I know the last group wasn’t typical, but that seems like a really short time,” you noted, frowning. “You’re a great trainer, but it doesn’t feel like they’re going to have time to learn everything they need to.” 

“They won’t,” Alpha agreed, meeting your dismay with an understanding look of his own. “Have you wondered why the kaminii don’t just train all their troopers like ARCs? It’s because it takes a different way of thinking. ARCs have to be individuals, able to think on their feet and alter the orders they were given to achieve an objective. They already have the skills - I’m just teaching them how to think like an ARC trooper.” 

Alpha’s explanation forged a connection inside your brain. “That’s… isn’t that… That seems like the opposite of what the Kaminoans were trying to do when they altered the Fett gene.” 

“Go on.” 

You took a deep breath, hoping you weren’t about to offend him. “I don’t remember everything I read in Ko Sai’s notes, but she seemed very proud of the way they altered the troopers’ genes so they would be more loyal and group-minded.”

“Exactly,” Alpha confirmed with a nod. “That’s why they can’t train everyone to be an ARC. Individual ARC troopers and commando squads are a useful precision tool, but you need armies to fight a war. Personally, I think that the ARC candidates are the troopers whose genes are a little closer to Jango’s.” 

“I wouldn’t think that the Kaminoans would be happy enough about that to give ARCs special training and designations,” you noted, changing your stance entirely about the subject. “I would expect them to try to hide any differences in genes.” 

“Then it would look like an accident,” Alpha countered. “By separating ARC troopers as uniquely capable of difficult missions, the kaminii can act like this was all part of their plan.” 

You shook your head in amazement. “That makes a lot of sense. I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t see it myself.” 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” You felt the warmth of Alpha’s smile, though he was still facing the training field. “Endex, men. On me.”

The platform where you had been observing the ARCs-in-training started to lower toward the floor and you stepped toward where the door would be. “Need me to leave?” 

“No, I think you’ll like this part,” Alpha told you. “Since they only have a few weeks left, we have a meeting to discuss more personal matters. It’s a… motivational conversation.” 

You were instantly delighted, beaming at him and the troopers who were just coming into view. Alpha looked at you long enough for you to catch the warmth in his eyes, then he shook his head as if despairing your lack of a sabacc face.

“Men,” Alpha greeted, stepping off of the platform. You trailed behind him, trying to school your face into a neutral expression. It wasn’t easy, but you managed. “Let’s talk.” 

A pall fell over the group instantly, and you realized that they expected to be berated for something. You watched them shuffle after Alpha, forming a loose semi-circle around him and standing at attention. 

Alpha - cruel man that he was - let them dangle for a moment before saying, “At ease.” 

The ARCs-in-training glanced at each other as they complied, but the tension didn’t ease. 

“Tell me about your battalions.” 

That was clearly not what they had expected Alpha to say. The men hesitated as a group, as if they weren’t sure how to answer… or, more likely, because they were looking for a trap in Alpha’s invitation. 

Salvo spoke first. He had gotten better at letting the other men take the lead and caring less about his place in the chain of command, but he was older than all of the other men and they clearly looked to him for certain things. 

“I’m part of the 22nd Air Combat Wing,” Salvo explained. “Led by Jedi General Roan Shryne.”

“I know that,” Alpha explained patiently. Well, maybe he wasn’t patient, but he wasn’t actively impatient, which was nearly the same thing for him. “I have access to your assignment files. Tell me about the 22nd. Tell me about your General.” 

“The 22nd is an air combat wing,” Salvo repeated slowly, clearly trying to gather his thoughts as Alpha watched him steadily. “We’re mostly pilots, but there are plenty of support roles. Because we’re a smaller group, a lot of our support is natties who were assigned to help out. My best pilot is a trooper named Rally. He’s almost as old as I am.” 

“And your general?” Alpha prompted. 

“General Shryne is… different from most Jedi,” Salvo said carefully. “He doesn’t use the Force very often. He carries a blaster and a lightsaber, but he’s more likely to use the blaster. Wears plenty of armor, too.” 

“Good man,” Alpha said approvingly. “More jetii could stand to learn that no one is invincible on a battlefield. Who’s next?”

As if encouraged by the lack of negative reaction to Salvo’s answer, Maw began to speak. “I’m with the 104th, serving under General Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe.”

“What do you think about serving with a Jedi?” Alpha asked Maw. “Must slow you down out there, especially with a commander like Wolffe.”

“You must know the commander, then,” Maw said with a slight smile.

“Well enough,” Alpha agreed. “Enough to know how impatient he can be.” 

You struggled to keep from laughing aloud at the idea of Alpha calling someone impatient. From the looks on some of the troopers’ faces, they were thinking the same thing. 

“I’m one of the younger troopers in the Wolfpack,” Maw explained. “They brought me on because I had access to some of the updated tech modules in flash-training, plus some experience with my original battalion. They needed someone who could slice into terminals on their missions and I was looking for a change of scenery.” 

“Where were you before?” Alpha asked. 

“Parable Outpost.” Maw shrugged. “It wasn’t the worst place to be, especially for a shiny just off of Kamino, but it was quiet. I got to thinking that I could do more for the war effort, so I requested a transfer.”

“And?” Maw blinked uncomprehendingly, and Alpha expanded, “Do you feel like you’ve done more for the war effort?” 

You expected Maw to shrug off the question, to say something about how life was more exciting away from Parable Outpost or that he got to see more of the galaxy. But a sincerity seemed to have filled the air between the troopers. 

“Yeah,” Maw said with a nod. “I do.” 

Alpha gave him an understanding sort of look and turned to Fives and Echo. “The two of you can go together or separately, up to you.” 

“We’re with the 501st Battalion,” Fives said. “General Anakin Skywalker.” 

“How do you like it?” 

“The general is a little… unorthodox,” Echo said slowly, and you watched the others try not to smile too obviously. Clearly, ‘unorthodox’ meant something specific to the troopers, and it must not be entirely a good thing. “But his plans usually end up working. And he’s always front and center, so he can help fix the ones that go sideways.” 

Alpha gave a short hum. “And the other men in the 501st?” 

“Crazy, all of ‘em,” Fives said with a broad, fond grin. “But you have to be, otherwise you transfer out.” 

Echo looked a little more thoughtful. “Good men, though. No 501st man has ever left before completing the objective or getting the call to retreat. And we’ve never left a man behind, not if there’s any chance that he’s still alive.” 

The warmth and pride that had shone from both of the men when they spoke about their general only intensified when they talked about their brothers. 

“That leaves you, Aftermath,” Alpha prompted. 

“327th,” Aftermath said reflexively. “Led by Jedi General Aayla Secura.”

“And Commander Bly.” Alpha gave a rare nod of approval. “He’s a good soldier. A good brother.” 

“Good commander, too,” Aftermath agreed. “Everyone in the 327th knows he’s got our backs. Never met a battle he’d back down from.”

“He’s always been that way,” Alpha revealed, “even when he was training as an ARC. No one can fight every battle all the time. But rangir! If there was ever someone I’d believe could do it anyway, it was Bly. Not that I’d tell him.” 

“That’d be dangerous.” Aftermath looked thoughtful. “The other men are good, too. Loyal. We’ve only had one transfer out in the past two months.” 

“Impressive.”

Aftermath nodded. “Bad news is that it was our medic. But they needed him at one of the med stations.” 

“He must have been solid,” Alpha remarked. “Med station medics have to be the best at what they do.” 

“He was.” 

Alpha took a step back, centering himself in front of the group. “I want you men to think about what you just said. What each other said. Not every man has what it takes to be an ARC trooper. Odds are, most of the men you left behind will never be able to perform at the level you do. But they don’t have to.” 

“We’re troopers,” he continued. “We’re stronger together. Us ARCs take on the specialty missions, the ones that require independence and higher skill levels so the other troopers can wear down the enemy with sheer numbers. We’re a sniper rifle; they’re a battering ram. Both have their place on the battlefield, and you need both to win a war. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” 

Nods appeared around the group - some more hesitant than others. 

“Remember your brothers,” Alpha commanded them. “Remember where you came from. But you also have to remember that your skills are important for everyone’s brothers. As an ARC, you’ll occasionally work with your brothers from your original battalion. But you could be sent anywhere. When you’re working with unfamiliar troopers, they’re brothers, too. Not only because they’re troopers, but because they’re someone else’s brothers. Another ARC stood here thinking about them, speaking about their importance in his life. We watch each other’s backs, because every trooper is important to someone.”

Alpha tucked his hands behind his back. The angle was too sharp for you to see his face, but the way he leaned forward made you think that he was giving the men a look. “You’ve already made ‘em proud. Now keep ‘em safe. Dismissed.” 

“Sir,” Echo said hesitantly. Alpha paused mid-step. “Could I- could we - keep using the practice room? I have some maneuvers I need to work on.” 

“Granted,” Alpha said with a nod. “Anyone else?” 

The rest of the ARCs-in-training made noises of agreement, each one listing something they wanted to work on. 

“It’ll be unsupervised practice,” Alpha warned. “But I expect to see some improvements tomorrow. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

You couldn’t tell if that agreement had come from all of them or only a few, but all of them saluted. 

Alpha’s hand at the small of your back ushered you out of the training area. You led the way back to your office, not looking at him so you wouldn’t break. 

The cost of that, of course, was that you rounded on him the moment you were safely tucked away in your office. Alpha caught your mood instantly, a put-upon expression crossing his face the moment he saw your broad grin. 

“What?” 

“You’re so good at that!” You shrugged, still smiling. “You’re a wonderful trainer.” 

Alpha shook his head despairingly, turning to check that the door was secure behind him. That gave you the perfect vantage point to watch the back of his neck grow ruddy. Your grin only spread further. 

When he finally spoke, it was only to disagree. “Seeing as how you’ve never met another ARC trainer, I can’t get too carried away with that compliment.” 

“Exactly,” you told him. “If you weren’t doing an excellent job, the Kaminoans would have replaced you a long time ago. Or at least added another trainer. You are the best trainer anyone could imagine for the ARCs, Alpha. I’m sure of it. And your speech was wonderful.” 

“Speech,” Alpha muttered. “I just asked them a few questions.” 

“And reminded them how important their training is, even as they start wrapping it up.” You gave a satisfied sigh. “I could kiss you right now.” 

For a large man, Alpha moved unbelievably quickly. In no more time than it took you to blink, he was by your side, leaning down with his hands planted on the armrests on either side of you. 

“Well, neverd’ika?” he pressed, gaze roaming between your eyes and your lips. “That’s an offer I’ll gladly accept.” 

Alpha could hardly finish what he was saying before you pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his lips. You were both smiling, which made it taste all the sweeter.

---

Author's Note - Reminder that Salvo is a canon clone trooper (or was, in Legends). If you don't know anything about Jedi General Shryne, he's an... interesting character.

Anyway, thanks for reading! As always, comments and reblogs help share my work and make the long, frustrating, sleep-stealing hours I spend writing this story worth it!

See you soon!

[lemonhemlock]

it's amusing to me how ppl will try to criticise alicent's "where is duty, where is scarifice" by saying it's just her demanding why rhaenyra doesn't "submit to men", "scarifice her happiness", "give up her bodily autonomy" blah blah blah.

there is such a smugness and it's made worse by their security in them thinking this defense of rhaenyra is flawless."

submit to men". im not even going to deign to respond by pointing out all the ways which shows this simply isn't true or at least challengeable for alicent, but in the context of rhaenyra....its questionable because who made rhaenyra his heir in the first place? quickly. her father. rhaenyra "submits" to viserys' will by accepting his decision to name her princess of dragonstone. obviously she's only 14 then but it's a decision she continues to, using their language, "submit" to well into her adult life. of course, you could say that rhaenyra wants the throne anyway and that's fair but rhaenyra's own wants/needs are still ultimately irrelevant. they just happen to align with viserys' own wishes that stem from his powerful guilt over aemma and his conviction that he misread his "prophecy" wrong. it's because of these factors that one can find it really questionable that viserys would have listened to rhaenyra if she asked him to change the succession. what's more important, his daughter's happiness, or his need to redeem himself through her? im comfortable saying this because viserys at his core seems allergic doing right by his kids.another way it's questionable because again who is the final "authority" on rhaenyra's sons? quickly. her dad. rhaenyra's word by itself isn't good enough, she still has to submit to viserys' will through getting his protection.

"scarifice her happiness". mind you rhaenyra calls her own life a "droll tragedy". how great could that "happiness" (harwin) have been then? it's also very clear that harwin was never going to be enough for rhaenyra.

"bodily autonomy" I mean, I wish they kept this energy for alicent. but they don't. alicent's line to viserys "to have one child like that is a mistake" is also really interesting to me concerning this whole subject because it suggests that alicent would have been sympathetic to rhaenyra if she had been honest from the very start with jace's birth. but she doesn't and she ends up lying again and again. obviously rhaenyra lying about such a matter is going to be a huge trigger for someone like alicent whose father was removed from his position partly because of rhaenyra lying or not being wholly truthful.

sorry for the long post!

Hi there! I think there's a lot of naff defence of Rhaenyra and hypocrisy towards Alicent in TB's discourse, but, by now, there are a wealth of critical posts available that highlight these discrepancies and, if they don't pose any interest to them, we kind of, at some point, have to let bygones and be bygones and leave them to their little bubble. They can educate themselves from many sources now; it's not like when the show first aired and the meta was dominated by TB content. But if they don't want to engage in good faith arguing, then there's not much point in getting worked up about it. IMO a lot of these posters skew on the younger side, have a rather primitive view of feminism and rely heavily on anachronism, so girlboss pew pew is appealing to them. Maybe they'll grow out of it, maybe not, but we can't be educators for everybody.

That being said, onto the points you highlighted. I think I agree the most with "sacrifice her happiness", because Rhaenyra had all the options in the world for a husband, but she didn't take any of it seriously and exhausted everyone's goodwill after a ton of resources were wasted on her marriage audition tour for nothing,* until Viserys got tired of her tomfoolery and forced her to marry a closeted gay man. This is where a point about bodily autonomy can also be made, because Rhaenyra could have very well married Harwin (who was in her social sphere), had she taken any of this seriously.

*think of the cost of transporting her and hosting so many suitors under one roof - some of the bill being footed by the lords who were hosting her. Perhaps Lord Baratheon had better use of his time and money than organizing Rhaenyra's engagement contest. And you can bet she didn't just leech off of him, she must have visited other castles as well, since she is said to have been gone for several weeks (? can't remember). And all for what? It's very disrespectful.

I do have some sympathy for her because it's a lot to ask a 15(?)-year-old to start seriously considering marriage proposals, when that's probably the last thing she is interested in. And it is normal for teenagers to be immature. But there's got to be some give-and-take here. Rhaenyra can't both be the nominal heir and future queen, entrusted with more power than anyone else in the kingdom, and not heed any of her responsibilities. It is a position that comes with sacrifices and responsibilities; it's part of the job description. Making a politically-advantageous marriage is one of those compromises. Acknowledging that is not anti-feminist lol. God forbid kings and queens can't just do whatever the hell they want all the time.

And Rhaenyra is presented with choices: at no point does she refuse Viserys' offer to name her heir. He straight-up tells her at one point: choose a husband or I will name Aegon instead. She could have very well said "You know what, I didn't really think about what this would entail when you nominated me in the first place and now I kind of realise this is not for me. I don't really want to get married and I'm not particularly inclined towards politics either, so can we find some kind of alternative arrangement here?" Does she? No!

She doesn't want to run away with Criston and eat oranges either. Fair enough, but then you kind of have to move your butt and work towards securing your position as heir to the throne. Does she do that instead? No, lol. She's the definition of eating one's cake and having it too. In ep. 7 she bemoans to Viserys "I thought I wanted it" (i.e. the throne). So she does want it!

As far as her just going along with whatever Viserys wants, I am going to be generous again and say that I get she doesn't really want to disappoint her father and appear diminished in front of him, cool, but at some point you have to start taking responsibility for yourself and not just explain everything away resorting to your shitty childhood and relationship with your parents. And Rhaenyra never does. Especially when the stakes are this high. We're talking about the possibility of civil war here. It's very laissez-faire to the point of irresponsibility to just "go along" with this, in spite of succession laws, when you know people are going to be opposing your shaky claim, if you don't really want the throne deep down and are just half-arsing it.

And Rhaenyra can't blame it all on the follies of youth either. Because there is a time when she is a mature woman with three illegitimate children under her belt, not really putting in the work to diplomatically advance herself, being rude to people at court and just interested in her love affair and doing whatever she wants. But, by that time, Alicent had already produced 4 children, so Rhaenyra could have just noped out of this situation, if she considered it so shitty, and conceded to Aegon. Viserys by then was old and weak, he wouldn't have really put much of a fight if that's what she truly wanted. She could have lived her life as a very rich, privileged lady, but instead she chose to escalate and marry Daemon. And, no, the greens would not have killed Rhaenyra and her bastard children, not because of the kindness of their hearts, but because Rhaenyra's claim is comically weak and would not be taken seriously by any medieval historian, let alone by a person actually living in those times.

So this is where I wrap it up with the "submitting to men" argument. I don't think it's necessarily accurate to categorise Rhaenyra accepting Viserys' decision to name her heir as going against her will, because she is known to want the throne. What I think is more relevant here is to consider that Alicent is in a much more powerless position than Rhaenyra and doesn't really have much of a choice when it comes to defying men. Alicent is the daughter of a second son and she doesn't have a dragon soul-bonded to her who can roast people who annoy her. I think it quite trite to be "angry" with her (lol she's not real) that she has the (normal) coping mechanisms that she has and is not magically transformed into a rebel Lagertha figure who does whatever she wants and takes no shit from anyone.

However, I don't see the solution as Rhaenyra "submitting to men" either. I think that's a misrepresentation of the green stance (although I'm sure there certainly are green-aligned posters that skew more towards the Kinder-Kuche-Kirchen disposition). On my part, I don't see Rhaenyra respecting the basic law of the land as her submitting to men. Kings have to follow succession laws to acquire the throne, too, and then produce legitimate children to succeed them. Of course the law is meant to favour men, but not once does Rhaenyra do anything to further the cause of women in Westeros, only to further herself. She wants to be Queen, but it has to be served on a platter to her and she is not interested in putting any work in. She's not interested in the plight of bastards in Westeros, as long as her own bastards get comfy seats. At one point you have at least concede that she's mainly on a one-woman mission for her selfishness. And anyone is welcome to like her exactly as she is! She doesn't have to be morally pure to have fans.

But there comes a time when, after appraising the inequalities of the world, you also have to adjust your own behaviour so that you won't end up causing more harm in your quest to advance your own interests. You have to find a balance between your desire for absolute freedom and reforms that are achievable, because some progress is always better than no progress.

Some of this stuff is really complicated, like how can you integrate bastards in the inheritance process when most of the wealth is acquired via land and you live in a society in which people of means turn marriages into economic alliances, with vested interests in passing down that wealth to children related to both parents? The short answer is that you have to diversify the sources of wealth, but, for that, you need technological advancement, the rise of the middle class and, ultimately, to dismantle feudalism. Could Rhaenyra have accomplished this during her reign? No. Could anyone? Absolutely not. These are historical developments that happen gradually, over a great span of time, so the best any decision-maker could do is introduce incremental reforms that can help speed up this process, increase literacy rates* (you cannot become free if you cannot read) and, yes, tumblr is going to hate this, but engage in harm reduction - basically don't become part of the problem or an active vector of destabilisation.

That is wisdom that Rhaenyra never comes to possess. And, to cut her some slack again, this is truly visionary stuff, like very few people would be able to be so politically avant-garde. But, at the very least, Rhaenyra could have engaged in harm-reduction. And it's pretty insincere or misguided of TB to reduce this resolution to just "submitting to men".

*But can you even? You'd need to invent the printing press for this. See my mentioning the need to technological advancement.

[cliperry]

#Harry Styles#Harry Styles Era#Dunkirk Era#Magazine Scans#Solo Harry#USA Magazines#HS1 Era#shots from readlyVogue Culture Edited by Ston Tantraporn

Film Styles presents

The sweet-faced boy (from the boy band One Direction) has slowly begun to shed his idol image. Now, Harry Styles steps into the world of film, marking a new chapter by proving himself as a true artist—on screen and in life.

Many young stars have tried transitioning from music to film with mixed results. Remember David Bowie in Labyrinth, Britney Spears in Crossroads, and the Spice Girls in Spice World? Some were cult classics, others not so much. But it’s been over two years since Harry Styles surprised the world with his first major movie role in Dunkirk, directed by the acclaimed Christopher Nolan. The film, which tells the gripping story of the evacuation of 300,000 Allied soldiers from the beaches of Dunkirk during World War II, is considered one of the most visually stunning war films of the decade. And Styles wasn’t just thrown in for his name—he earned praise from critics and audiences alike for his performance.

Styles landed the role after impressing Nolan during a series of auditions. Nolan later revealed he didn’t even know Styles was famous when casting him. This added an unexpected authenticity to his role, far removed from his pop idol image. Unlike musicians-turned-actors who fall flat, Styles made a strong impression, even among a cast that included acting heavyweights like Tom Hardy, Cillian Murphy, and Mark Rylance. His performance proved that he wasn’t just dabbling in film—he was serious about acting.

“I try to look at everything from three perspectives: the audience’s, the director’s, and my own,” Styles said in an interview. “I want to challenge myself and explore things that scare me a bit.”

Since Dunkirk, Styles has been selective about his roles, waiting for the right scripts. He’s more interested in building a diverse, meaningful filmography than jumping at every opportunity. Industry insiders compare his thoughtful choices to actors like Matthew McConaughey, Jessica Chastain, Cillian Murphy, Anne Hathaway, and Michael Caine, all of whom made unexpected moves early in their careers.

Styles has cited influences from classic 1970s cinema and directors like Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather), Annie Hall, Midnight Cowboy, Tootsie, and Taxi Driver. He says he’s fascinated by characters who are flawed, real, and complex.

In the world of film, it’s often the actors who take risks that carve out the longest-lasting careers. Styles might be following in that path. From boy band fame to serious cinema, he’s carving a new identity—one movie at a time.

Cast Your Vote: Have you ever changed your mind about an actor after seeing them in a new light? Send your comments (and your casting dreams!) to: MusicKilledtheMovieStars@yahoo.com

Note: No spoilers, please!

[trashbag-baby666]

Willow-Webgott

Hello, @educationalporpoises !!! I’m your secret Santa!! I had a lot of fun writing this!! A lot of fun!! So I really hope you like it!!! I had to split it into two parts because I really bit off a lot with the plot! But please enjoy!!!

Summary: David got his dream part in the art schools production of The Nutcracker. Now he just has to face the taunting of his mother and his dance rival Stephanie Sobel. But Joes there to support him and get him through it all.

WC: 4,017

C/W: topics of eating disorders and body dysmorphia. Some NSFW jokes.

BofB Masterlist!

All dances mentioned can be found on this YouTube playlist I made!

"I got the part!" Web ran over to Lieb as he came out of his last ballet class of the day where Lieb always came and watched the end of practice because he had a study hall.

"Oh Liebling!" Web jumped into his boyfriend's arms hugging him tight.

Web had been working so hard since he started ballet as a kid. Then he moved to the Toccoa art school and found out about their art school.

The ballet program had been good to him and accommodated him wanting to audition for a technical ‘girls’ part.

"I'm gonna be the Sugar Plum Fairy!" Web smiled, holding his boyfriend's hands tight as he smiled. He had always wanted to be the Sugar Plum Fairy. But he didn't know if they would cast him because he was a boy, but they did!

Web originally had auditioned for the Nutcracker himself but the Sugar Plum Fairy was the most challenging and biggest part and he had got it.

"Congrats!" George smiled as he walked over, also getting out of class, "I'm the Rat King."

"But you're going to be the best one you earned it" Web congratulated him.

"Hey guys," Daisy came out of her contemporary dance class. She jogged over to the group seeing the excitement, "Did you guys get the Nutcracker parts?"

"I'm gonna be the Sugar Plum Fairy!" Web smiled even bigger.

"Congratulations!" Daisy hugged Web. She knew how hard Web had worked for this part, especially after the dance board at the school said Web could do a 'girls' part.

"George, is going to be the rat king." Web smirked, he was excited.

Every year around the beginning of fall whatever studio he was dancing at always had auditions for The Nutcracker show.

He had heard all the hype surrounding the school's Nutcracker show when he had moved there in the spring.

“Really!?” Daisy looked at her twin and hugged him, “You’re going to do great, both of you. But who got the parts of Clara?”

“Renee,” George hummed, “She deserves it.”

Web thought that there was nothing that could ruin his day after finding out that he had gotten his dream part.

But David’s parents surely knew how to ruin a good moment. He had texted his parents during lunch that he’d be home late since he had a private after school with his ballet teacher.

So, of course when Web came home it was terrible.

Web sifted through the mail toeing off his shoes at the door. “I’m home,” Web trailed off at the end. His parents sat at the table waiting for him to get back.

“David Kenyon, where have you been?” His mother scolded him.

“I texted you guys earlier that I had a private.” Web set the mail on the kitchen table.

“This is unacceptable, we didn't get it. We're having the Smiths over for dinner so go and clean up; Although, you should be watching your figure with the Nutcracker coming up.” His mother crossed her arms looking up and down at him.

Web looked down and just nodded. Web took in a sharp breath as he walked up the steps then went into his room. Slugging his backpack and his dance bag off next to his desk. He opened his closet door looking in the mirror tugging off his hoodie then his shirt. David stood in the mirror looking at his body. Joe said he was too skinny, His mom said differently.

He sighed as he looked in the mirror observing his stomach. His mother made sure that David would never feel comfortable in his body.

Since when his mother first signed him up for ballet he had been skipping meals and counting calories. The dance world was a toxic place, truly David loved what he did but he didn’t know how much longer he could take the constant body critique.

He remembers the first time Joe saw him naked so vividly.

Web was straddled over Joe's lap as he took off his shirt and felt Joe's eyes on him instantly.

He was toned nonetheless from years of intense dance training but you could also see his ribs.

He knew his body was boney and always wondered why Joe was trying to get in his pants.

“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?” Joe sat up as he saw Web's figure and his eyes began to well up with hot tears.

“I’m sorry.” Web got off of the bed and went into his bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“No, no. Liebling.” Joe got up and came to the other side of the bathroom door, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…I just really care about you and I think you’re beautiful.”

Joe had known Web for maybe a month but he saw how his mom would berate him for the tiniest of mistakes. How hard she pushed him to be the best and to have the most elegant body.

But instead Web wouldn’t eat, if he did he’d count his calories or he’d have his fingers down his throat trying to make himself throw it up.

Web stood in his bathroom crying as he looked at himself in the mirror. He thought he was so ugly and couldn’t blame Joe for being so repulsed by him. “It’s okay if you wanna leave.” David stared at the closed door waiting for Joe to say something.

“I don’t wanna leave, Web.” Joe stood by the door, he could hear Webs muffled crying, “Why don’t you come out and we can talk about it? We don’t gotta talk about it too, I just wanna know you’re okay.”

Web sighed and grabbed a shirt from the hamper in the bathroom and pulled it on over his bare chest. He unlocked the door and opened it, not meeting Joe’s gaze.

“I think you’re beautiful and I mean it David.” Joe said softly.

“I don’t feel it,” Web sniffed, wiping his tears away and hugged him.

“Then let me convince you,” Joe wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

Web stood in the dance studio at the barre as the ballet class went on.

“You are the Primas of this school, there should be nothing sloppy about your extensions.” Ms. Mai, the ballet teacher droned on.

“Just look at Mr. Webster, for example. Everyone stop and look at him.” She instructed. Web felt himself suck in subconsciously as everyone's eyes were on him.

There was no secret in the studio that Web was obviously the best ballerina at the school. Some of the girls envied him, especially Stephanie Sobel.

She had made sure Web was miserable every chance she got. She at one point had taken David’s pointe shoes out of his bag so that he couldn’t dance.

“Go ahead and run the combination,” Ms. Mai nodded as Web took in a sharp breath as he ran the warm up combo hitting all of the checkpoints for his legs and his feet pointed to perfection. The class clapped for him as he stood there awkwardly. He could feel Stephanie's eyes burning into him. She had been pissed that Web had gotten the Sugar Plum Fairy part. She was then casted as his understudy.

“I’m scared she's going to axe me in the back everytime I’m in class.” Web shook his head. Web sat at the Speirs family kitchen island as Daisy made a snack and George was working on his homework.

“She’s so scary, everytime I look at her it looks like she’s snarling at me.” George looked up from his laptop. David was grateful that George was also in his ballet classes. He then had someone to stand next to and rely on as an ally in the ongoing war of ballet at Toccoa High.

“I just don’t understand why she takes it so seriously,” Daisy shrugged leaning against the island, “Like yeah it’s a good leg up if she wants to go into the professional world. But her getting the part in a fucking High School production of The Nutcracker isn’t going to make or break her career.”

“Well, you should go tell her that. Then she’ll put a knife in your back instead of mine.” Web rolled his eyes playfully.

“I’d love too then I can kick her ass and maybe she can shut her big fucking mouth.” Daisy grabbed out a juice box and aggressively set it on the counter.

“Maybe you can beat up Herbert too while you’re at it. Two siblings with one stone.” George had been getting harassed by him since they moved here a year ago. The Sobel twins were twins from hell where George and Daisy were the good ones.

“I second that, you and Joe both can arrange a time to fight them and do that.” Web chuckled as he looked back down at the paper he had been trying to write for the last week.

“I can’t get it on,” Web was in one of the bathroom stalls as they were trying on their costumes after they were altered.

“What do you mean you can’t get it on you just tried it on last week?” George stood in the stall next to him trying on the mouse king costume.

“George I can’t get it on,” Web repeated. He was panicking as he was trying to get it pulled up further then his hips.

“Here let me come help,” George came out of the stall and Web opened the stall door. Web turned to see George in the mouse costume and tried his hardest not to laugh at him, “You’re laughing now but when I have to put the mouse head on you’re going to pay for it.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Web tried his best to sound serious as he tried to hide the growing smile on his face. Completely forgetting the dilemma on hand of the leotard not fitting.

“Then why’re you smiling?” George raised an eyebrow before grabbing part of Web's costume and trying to help him get it on.

“It’s fine I’ll just go tell Ms. Mai that I need it altered again.” Web sighed looking at George. The shorter boy with dark brown hair looked back at him. George ran his teeth over his lip nervously.

“I wish I could help you more, I’m sorry.” George sighed.

“It’s fine, just don’t let Stephanie see.” Web rolled his eyes as he shut the stall door and changed back into his clothes.

Web came out of the bathroom holding the garment bag that the leotard and tutu were in. “Mrs Mai!” Web rushed over seeing his teacher.

“Oh yes Mr. Webster I’ve been looking for you. You and Ms. Sobels' costumes got switched.” Ms Mai smiled, taking the garment bag from him and waving for him to follow. She walked over to where Stephanie and her friends were standing, “Here’s the right one now.”

“Thank you,” Web took the bag from Ms. Mai.

“Yeah this one was huge on me, you probably couldn’t fit into mine.” Stephanie smirked looking at Web. He felt the words go straight to his head like a white hot blade being twisted and stabbed into him.

He just turned on his heels and hurried back into the men’s bathroom before the tears could start falling.

Joe had no idea what he had walked into when he came upstairs. from plating some food for the two after his dad’s were done making dinner.

Web was standing in Joe's room shirtless looking at himself.

“Woah? Do you wanna eat first or is it fine if it gets a little cold while we go a few rounds?” Joe smirked only half joking. Then David looked at him and could see he was tearing up.

“Do you think I’m ugly?” David turned to look at the other boy. He had felt ugly and uncomfortable all day.

“What? No. David, who said that to you?” Lieb set the two plates of food down on his desk.

“No one,” Web sniffed, rubbing his eyes free of the ever growing tears. Joe knew he was lying, but now wasn’t the time to press.

Joe came over and wrapped him in his tight embrace. Web rested his head on his shoulder as he let out a broken sob.

“Let’s sit down, yeah?” Joe led Web over to his bed sitting them down. Web curled into Joe as he couldn’t stop the tears.

He just wished he felt normal.

He had had an eating disorder since he hit puberty.

He hated doing ballet.

He wanted to quit.

“Can I tell you something? But please don't get mad at me.” David tried wiping his tears away but they were never ending.

“I wouldn’t ever be mad at you,” Joe rested his hand on Webs thigh.

“I want to quit ballet.”

Web found himself in class again going over his dance again and again, Stephanie behind him practicing.

“Mr. Webster, don’t make me remind you again.” Ms. Mai narrowed her gaze at him as Web knew he had missed a step. He Had felt off since he and Joe had the conversation of him quitting.

“Here, why don’t you watch Ms. Sobel, do it once.” Ms. Mai motioned for him to come stand next to her. The few steps from where he was dancing to standing next to her. Felt like a walk of shame. He could feel the smirk on Stephanie's face and could hear all her snide remarks going off in his head.

Ms. Mai motioned to the other student to play the music as Stephanie performed the dance perfectly. Just the way that David would’ve a week ago before he even spoke his thoughts of quitting.

When she was finished Web clapped for her just because he felt forced to by the teacher.

“I think if you give me another chance I could perform it just as well.” David spoke up.

“Okay,” Ms. Mai had Stephanie and David switch places. Stephanie was sure enough to give him a dirty look as they switched.

Web took a deep breath and took the opening position of the dance. As the music began to play, Web could feel the eyes of the other ballet classes watching him. As they got dismissed from their classes.

He could feel the next eight counts coming, the one he kept forgetting.

He could feel his heart beating in his ears as the music played and he could feel the counts coming. But he didn’t miss it. He smiled to himself as he knew he had done it and finished the dance. He took his ending pose and smiled as the other students began clapping.

“Very good, Mr. Webster.” Ms. Mai smiled, clapping for him.

It was opening night, Web had fought tooth and nail. Blood, sweat, and tears. And mostly Stephanie to get here.

“Are you excited?” George buzzed as he came over to where Web was doing his makeup.

David truly didn’t know if he was excited. One hand he was excited to finally perform what he had been fighting for since September. The other hand he knew if he messed up not only Stephanie would taunt and bully him. But his mother would too.

“A little bit,” Web looked up from his eyeshadow pallet. The entire friend group was here too including Joe. So that meant he had to perform his best.

“Well Ma and Pa will be cheering for you. Pa probably will anyway while you’re dancing. 20 some years in the military and going on 15 years of me and Daisy dancing. Man still doesn’t know ballet etiquette." George giggled showing off his crooked teeth, “he will be leaning over to the poor soul sitting next to him and go. ‘That’s my son and daughter's best friend.”

Web smiled a bit, George always knew how to make anyone feel better. During their showcase last year when David was nervous to do his solo. George stood in the wings with him before he went on. Doing the best impressions of all their friends he could do. Without the two of them disrupting the whole show with their laughter.

“You’re going to do great, I just know it. You’ve been working way harder than anyone else. You deserve this and you earned it.” George gave him a hug.

“Thank you, you’re going to kill it out there as the mouse king.” Web snickered, motioning to the mouse costume head sitting in the chair next to his.

“Don’t talk about Jaq like that!” George covered the ears of the head.

“You named him?” Web stopped applying the eyeshadow and turned to look at the other boy.

“Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of time with him this semester.” George winked, “Don’t tell Joe.”

“You’re gross,” Web laughed, throwing his mascara tube at him jokingly.

“Yeah, next time you and Joe come over don’t leave your used condom in the bathroom.” George snickered.

“Oh? Did Joe not suck your dick on my kitchen island?” Web gasped jokingly.

“Mr. Speirs we’re starting soon and I need everyone in act one to come to the wings.” Ms. Mai poked her head in the dressing room where George and Web were still in there, “Mr. Webster when you’re done you should go run your dance in the hallway.”

“See you later, I’ll come find you when I’m done.” George grabbed the mouse head and followed Ms. Mai out the door.

Web finished his makeup and put on his pointe shoes then grabbed his phone and water bottle.

He hadn’t been running his dance for very long when he saw Sobel walking down the hallway. George paused the music and awkwardly stood by the wall picking up his phone and water bottle. He awkwardly started checking his texts hoping Sobel would just leave him alone and he was going to the bathroom.

He wasn’t sure which came first…he suddenly felt himself being pushed into the wall and Sobel stomping down onto his ankle. Then he heard the snapping as he collapsed onto the hard floor. He heard himself let out a shriek as he grabbed his ankle.

“This is kinda weird,” Joe whispered to Daisy as the dance of Clara and The Nutcracker went on.

“I know, every year I get to watch this weird ballet. I was in it when I was younger actually.” Daisy snickered quietly.

“Really?” Joe smirked as the two bowed their heads to talk to each other.

“Yup, I played one of the kids at the christmas party then one of the mice in the battle.” Daisy nodded.

“Wow,” Lieb joked, elbowing her lightly. Then he felt his phone vibrate, he turned it over and saw a text from Web.

Web<3: Come out into the hall. Please.

Joe showed Daisy the text and Lieb shrugged, getting up out of the end row seat and going out into the hallway and around the corner. Then he saw the scene, David crying, sitting against the wall, and holding his left ankle.

“Jesus, fuck.” Lieb said as he got down on his knees, “What happened, meine liebe?”

“Fucking, Sobel.” Web yelped out as Lieb gently removed Web's grasp.

“I’m going to text Daisy to get Gene, but why don't we take off your shoes and tights. Yeah?” Lieb asked as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and texted her.

David adjusted against the wall as Joe gently took Webs ankle untying and unwrapping the ribbons.

“Ow, ow.” Web sniffed as Joe gently took off the pointe shoe.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Web. We’re almost done.” Joe gently rubbed Web's thigh supportingly to try and distract him from where he had to reposition his ankle.

“I gotta cut open your tights.” Lieb sighed and grabbed the pocket knife he most certainly shouldn’t have had.

“I know,” Web sniffed. Joe gently cut the seam on the toe and helped him slide it up.

Both cringed as the dark bruised, swollen ankle became apparent.

“Fuck,” Joe muttered and looked up to see Gene and Daisy running down the hall.

“What happened?” Daisy asked as Gene bent down and began inspecting Webs ankle.

“Sobel fuckin’ happened,” Lieb looked at Daisy and he saw the red heads eyes turn red metaphorically as she balled her fist.

“Daisy, I need you to go to the back of the theater where there are paramedics. But also get his parents.” Gene instructed her.

“I’m gonna kill that mother fucker.” Lieb snarled.

“No, stay here.” Web grabbed Joe's hand as Gene held it on his lap to elevate his ankle.

Web was embarrassed as he rode him in the passenger seat of Joe's beat up, old car. His ankle was broken and he had no idea how to respond.

When his doctor told him he wouldn’t be dancing for at least two months the panic set in. His mother just narrowed her eyes and glared at him.

“I’m sorry this happened to you…you don’t deserve that at all. I promise you I’m gonna make sure he fucking knows who he’s fucking with.” Joe said increasingly more aggressively. Before his steering wheel in anger.

“It’s okay, I don’t want you getting in trouble.” Web shook his head.

Stephanie would now take over his part in the Nutcracker for the following weeks till Christmas.

“He deserves to be expelled.” Joe brewed as he drove them back to the Webster house.

Joe carried Web up the steps and down to his bedroom. Setting the other boy down on his bed. “What clothes do you want?” Lieb asked as he set down Webs backpack down.

“Just a shirt and some boxers.” Web sighed and shrugged. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He wouldn’t be allowed to dance for two months. Then he’d have to re-build up the muscles in his feet to dance on pointe.

But at the same time he was almost glad that he couldn’t dance for two months.

He was excited to get to take some time off. He was questioning whether he wanted to stay in ballet and now he had time to make the right choice.

“I’ll go get you some ice when we’re done.” Joe came over and kissed Webs cheek, “Ich liebe dich.”

“Ich liebe dich auch.” David tried to ignore the pain as Joe helped him change out of his joggers and took his boot off him.

He was feeling lucky when Joe came back with an ice pack wrapped in a towel.

“Okay,” Joe checked the pillows that his ankle was propped on and then gently set the ice on his ankle.

“Thank you,” David blushed a deep red. He watched as Joe changed then climbed in next to him.

“I love you, I’m sure you would’ve done an amazing job. I know you would have. You’re the only person I really like to watch Dance. Don’t tell Daisy.” Lieb chuckled. Web smirked and giggled a bit.

“I know I would’ve done it better than Stephanie performed it” Joe took off his shirt and grabbed his phone. He checked her

Instagram page and showed the video to David. She missed some steps and her foot was sickled.

“I love you,” Web gently turned off Liebs phone and kissed his cheek.

“Can’t believe this,” David’s mom shook her head, pacing in the kitchen. Since Joe left and Web was just trying to have breakfast she started nagging him.

“You should’ve stood up for yourself, now look.” She motioned to the boot on David’s ankle.

“I know,” Web sat at the table awkwardly spinning his cereal around in the pool.

“You better be watching what you’re eating if you’re going to not be active for awhile.” She pointed her spoon at the cereal he was eating, “Have some yogurt tomorrow instead.”

“What does it matter?” Web mumbled staring down into the cereal bowl.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me, David?” His mother snapped at him.

“I said I’m quitting ballet.” David snapped, slapping the table.

Pt Two coming soon…

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Yuu can do it!

Part 81

First - Previous - Masterlist - Next

“I can’t believe that Trein gave me extra homework,” Ace groaned.

“All you did was sleep in his class, he’s so unfair,” Ito said, wryly.

Ace nodded along despite the obvious sarcasm. “Right?! I mean, you pay enough attention for all of us, so I don’t see what his problem is!”

“I swear, the guy’s lectures are just sleep spells in disguise,” said Grim.

“Do those exist?” asked Enma. His excitement made the arm around Kuroki’s shoulder squeeze him just a little tighter.

“Well… no, but maybe that’s his UM!”

Kuroki had his doubts. Not that he’d ever voice them.

He didn’t get the chance to, anyway.

Something in his hindbrain was screaming at him that there was someone looking at him. He couldn’t pinpoint where the eyes were, the corridor they were walking down was mostly empty. This was exactly why they had chosen it – it meant they could all walk and talk without worrying about slowing down traffic.

He shifted closer to Enma, all but merging with his side.

And, apparently, that was for the best. Because something whizzed past his ear, embedding itself in the nearby wall.

Kuroki stared at the arrow that had just nailed where his head had been only a second prior.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. Enma dragged him into his chest. Ito whirled around to yell at whoever had attempted to assassinate him.

But the danger was gone.

“Can’t – can’t go a day without something happening when you guys are around…” Ace said, clearly trying to seem casual and failing spectacularly.

“Remind me who signed a contract with Azul?” Kuroki said.

“You,” said Enma.

Man, he was never going to let that go, was he?

Grim latched himself onto the front of Kuroki’s shirt and refused to move.

“There’s a note tied to the arrow,” said Deuce.

“Oh, great, they literally wanted to send a message with my corpse, how cool,” said Kuroki, feeling a little faint.

“Maybe it’s a challenge to a fight,” said Deuce.

“I don’t think assassins are looking for fair fights,” said Ito.

Deuce unfurled the piece of paper, seemingly intent on proving them wrong.

And then his eyebrows knit.

“‘Thank you for taking part in the Song & Video Championship auditions. The following students have passed our rigorous screening process: Kuroki Yuuya, Ace Trappola, and Deuce Spade. Please report to the Pomefiore ballroom after school today.’”

...wait, what?

“We passed?” said Ace.

NO!

“How?!” Kuroki said, instead, because he had enough of a brain-to-mouth filter to not Give The Game Away.

“Why didn’t I pass?” complained Grim.

“Wait, I thought there were only two slots open,” said Deuce. “Why did all three of us pass?”

“Maybe it’s a prank?” offered Kuroki. Because he couldn’t have passed. There was no way in hell.

“An invite to a fight,” Deuce said, again, as if he was trying to manifest it.

Enma grinned. “We might as well check it out, right? If it is real, you’d be giving up quite a lot…”

“And we get to see what Pomefiore is like,” said Ito.

“Exactly,” said Enma, his eyes bright. “What do you think it’ll look like?”

“What’s the point in theorizing? We’re going there later, apparently,” said Ace.

“So I can laugh at anyone who gets it wrong,” said Enma.

“What if you get it wrong?” said Deuce.

“I’m just not going to say my theories out loud. Therefore, you can never prove I was anything but 100% right.”

Kuroki pressed his face into Enma’s chest. “I’m going to assume you were completely wrong unless proven otherwise.”

“Can’t believe you would foil my plans like that,” Enma said, mildly, his hand coming up to rest over his head.

They proceeded to skip the rest of their classes.

(Ace remarked, at one point, that Kuroki should get shot at more often. And then had to fend off the many miscellaneous objects Enma threw at his head.)

~

Pomefiore was… a pretty dorm. But, from the looks of it, form was far more important than function.

The mirror to get in was halfway blocked by the tail of a silver peacock, which Kuroki took careful note of, because it would be just his luck to brain himself on the thing on his way out.

All thoughts was about that were dashed from his head the second he stepped through, though, because Pomefiore was fucking cold. Snow fluttered picturesquely to the ground, to join the layer of thick snow at their feet.

It would have been nice if Epel had warned them that they’d need snowshoes. But he had not, and it was too late to turn back now (because walking all the way to Sam’s and then coming back was not an enticing idea), so they took a step forward as one, prepared to brave the elements –.

Everyone immediately slipped on a hidden patch of ice and ate shit.

“I have hate in my heart,” said Ito.

Deuce sniffled, rubbing an already bright red nose. “It’s not that bad.”

“Hey, Rudolph, do you see the castle in the distance?” Kuroki asked, sullenly.

“Yeah. It’s pretty!”

“We have to walk all the way there.”

“… fuck.”

And so began the longest hour of their lives.

It was, probably, only meant to be a quarter-hour walk (which, let Kuroki say, should still be classified as torture), but their small group of first years had decided to hold onto each other for… well, they said it was for balance, in reality it was just so they could all drag each other down with them when they fell.

Not to mention the time a Pomefiore student passing by threw a snowball their way. Enma jerked to the side to avoid it, which, of course, made him slip. Which made everyone else in their conga line of losers fall, too.

“Strike!” cheered the Pomefiore student.

“Should have taken the snowball to the face,” Ace said.

Enma retaliated by shoving snow down the back of Ace’s shirt.

By the time they stepped through the doors, and the barest traces of warmth washed over their faces, they all looked like they had walked through a blizzard. Wild hair that had frozen itself in awkward positions, so much snow stuck to their clothes that the actual cloth was almost invisible, faces flushed mottled shades of red and noses dripping…

The beautiful, deep purple rug with golden accents, which no doubt cost more than their entire dorm, was not happy to see them, Kuroki was sure.

But that wasn’t what they focused on.

Epel stood in the doorway, grinning. “Have fun out there?”

“You could have warned us,” said Kuroki.

“Nah,” said Epel.

“… I’m going to tell your Housewarden that you cursed yesterday,” Ace said.

“Do you want me dead?”

“Right now? Kinda.”

“Awwww… I was gonna give you some advice, but now I don’t wanna.”

They squinted at Epel. Reasonably suspicious. Mildly pissed off that the dorm, quite possibly, was going to throw even more shit their way.

But, even if Epel had wanted to explain it to them, he wouldn’t have had the time:

“No outsider gets to simply waltz into our dorm,” a student said. He was perched on a surprisingly sturdy light fixture. Why was he on the light fixtures? Did he just hang out there like a very stuck guard dog?

Kuroki looked at him. “We were invited.”

(Some of them were invited, anyway. And if you invite Kuroki anywhere, you’re basically inviting Enma, Ito, and Grim, too. Everyone knows this.)

A wet glove slapped against the tile. Why was it wet? Kuroki had no idea.

“The road to true beauty is fraught with peril!”

“That wasn’t at all related to what I just said,” Kuroki said.

“Does he have prerecorded voice lines?” Ace asked.

“The — the road to beauty is fraught with peril!” the stranger said, again.

“I think the record is scratched. Someone smack the machine and see if that fixes it,” said Enma.

“… I think he’s stuck up there,” said Deuce.

“No I’m — I’m not,” the poor student said, subtly shifting back and forth, trying desperately to get his fur coat unstuck.

“Your outfit is cute,” said Ito. “Those jade earrings are to die for. They match your eyes so well.”

His face flushed bright red and he hid his face in his hands. “Thanks…”

“Ito, please stop adding guys to your fan club,” Kuroki groaned.

“It’s not my fault straight guys are desperate,” they huffed.

“The guy’s in a purple fur coat,” said Kuroki. “And I’m pretty sure that shirt beneath it is covered in sparkles.”

“No, they're right, I’m straight…”

“Don’t stereotype,” Enma said, swatting Kuroki over the back of the head.

“Wait,” said Epel. “Is he straight if he falls for you? I thought you were…?”

“Like I said: desperate.”

“Let’s just… go…” said Epel, looking painfully embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

The dorm’s honor was saved by what Kuroki could only describe as the two most aggressively British men to ever exist. The caps? The sweaters and cardigans? The accents? Kuroki could practically hear the colonization coming.

“The guy at the front gate was just a warm-up,” said the tall one.

“We literally didn’t even fight him,” said Ace.

“Now, you face us,” said the chubby one, blatantly ignoring him.

“They’re not makin’ any sense,” Grim complained.

And then they turned tail and ran.

“Cowards!” said Epel as he raced to catch up with them.

“Smart cowards,” Kuroki ‘corrected’ him, grinning.

And they were smart, because, for all that the two stooges had claimed that they were going to cream the first years who were really just having a terrible day… they seemed reluctant to throw spells at moving targets.

Enma picked up a random candelabra and then threw it over his shoulder.

The tall one scrambled to catch it before it could hit the floor.

If you looked carefully, you could see the wide grins that spread across the first years’ faces at the confirmation.

They rushed to grab things as they ran. A Faberge egg, a doily, a random vase… nothing was safe.

(They, of course, made sure to telegraph things before they threw them, and only ever used underhand, giving the two ample time to catch and carefully replace everything before even considering throwing something new. They didn’t actually want to break anything. There was a reason why Enma had grabbed a candelabra for his test – the things were pretty sturdy, it would survive hitting the ground… they were avoiding a fight, but they weren’t dicks.)

“Wait, Felmier, don’t take them that way!” the tall one yelled, suddenly, nearly making Kuroki drop what he was pretty sure was a random pearl necklace someone had forgotten about.

“But it’s a shortcu –!”

Epel froze, falling behind, as some kind of horrible realization hit him.

This, of course, only served to make them curious about whatever had made their pursuers slow and start pleading for them to stop and turn around.

Enma reached the door first. He flung it open.

The castle beyond the door was torn to shreds. Frilly drapery hung off of askew curtain rods; tables were overturned; the walls were painted with what seemed to be failed potions.

The group of students skidded to a stop.

“What the fuck,” said Kuroki.

Did they only clean the parts people would see?! What?! Kuroki understood kicking things under the fridge from time to time, he was a huge fan of ‘out of sight, out of mind’, but this is just…

“Jas, Vil-san’s gonna kill us,” the tall one whispered.

“Then we fall on the battlefield as brothers in arms,” said the chubby one. “I’m proud to have fought alongside you to the bitter end, Horace.”

“You know, if you let us get past you without trying to kill us — again — we won’t tell Schoenheit-san that we saw… whatever this is,” Deuce bargained.

”… okay,” said Horace.

The walk to the meeting room was without incident.

Jas and Horace were, apparently, rather nice when they weren’t trying to kill you. And chatty. Kuroki wasn’t sure what to do with the information that they were, apparently, Crewel’s adoptive sons. That did not fit his view of the man. Kuroki needed to sit down.

“How’s it feel to have a DILF for a dad?” Ito asked, seemingly just to watch them cringe.

“See, Horace, this is why we gotta stop telling people he’s our dad,” said Jas, endlessly exhausted.

Horace merely sent Ito a raised eyebrow. “Isn’t the Headmaster basically your dad? Shouldn’t you already know?”

The Crowley Hate Club was going to be contacting Horace’s lawyers.

Ito opened and closed their mouth a couple of times. “He is not. Crowley’s – like – a weird uncle, at best.”

“Disgusting,” said Grim.

“The Stockholm Syndrome is setting in,” Enma said, horrified.

“Ito, snap out of it. He’s your boss. And a shitty one, too,” said Ace.

Even Deuce looked like he wanted to grab Ito and start shaking them by the shoulders.

Kuroki fell to his knees in despair.

“NOOOOOO.”

~

“You three can probably stay outside,” said Jas.

“If you try to make us leave Kuroki we’re just gonna sneak in through the vents,” Ito informed him, as their friends were still catatonic with grief.

“... there’s something wrong with you,” said Horace.

Epel gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah. There is.”

~

“I see none of you have dropped out,” said Vil, the moment they strode inside. “You pass, for now –... why do you all look devastated?”

“It’s unrelated, senpai,” said Ito, flashing a thumbs up.

“What’d you do?” Jamil asked.

Ito shrugged.

Kalim jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. “They got in?! Oh wow – congrats!”

Ouch. He didn’t need to seem so earnestly surprised.

But Kuroki had to admit… he, too, was extremely confused as to how he got in. “I… thought I bombed the audition.”

“You did,” said Vil.

Kuroki wasn’t sure he could take any more devastating blows today.

“However, I happened to witness your Mostro Lounge performance last week,” Vil continued. “Where you proceeded to carry out your routine perfectly, several times.”

Fucking Azul. No wonder he’d randomly forced Kuroki to perform – he was trying to pawn him off onto Vil!

Which, okay, maybe Kuroki had given off the impression that he’d wanted to get in, but he had been utilizing a little-known tool called lying!

Because! He! Hadn’t! Thought! He’d! Get! In!

“As for the audition… I tend to give a bit of leeway to nonhumans. I’m aware Rook can be somewhat… unsettling.”

Nonhumans.

Kuroki crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m human, thanks.”

“I disagree,” said Rook.

“That’s called ‘being wrong’,” said Enma. “It’s not a crime, but it’s a little annoying.”

Kalim raised his hand. “Um, okay, Vil. I get why you let Kuroki in – maybe – but what about the other two?”

“They weren’t half-bad dancers,” said Vil. “And… teamwork and camaraderie are important in things such as this. Trappola and Spade are on good terms with you, Viper-san, and Epel.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kuroki saw Ito’s lips twitch into the barest trace of a smirk before they schooled their expression back into polite interest.

Kuroki fought the urge to facepalm. Of course. They would all be staying in the same dorm for bonding purposes, so it should have been obvious that Vil would prefer people who got along before the competition had even started, so they could prioritize learning the routine sooner.

And Kuroki strongly suspected that Jamil and Kalim being chosen to help Ace and Deuce was no coincidence.

Kuroki had never had a plan backfire so spectacularly. Everyone was working against him, and they didn’t even know it. Oh, this one stung.

“Now that all of the questions are out of the way…” said Vil. He cleared his throat. “Listen up, everyone: Viper-san, Kalim, Trappola-san, Spade-san, and Yuuya-san. You are the five finalists.”

“... finalists?” repeated Enma, slowly. “The competition isn’t over?”

“People grow the most when they are competing with each other,” Vil said. “As such, only four of you finalists will be able to perform alongside Rook, Epel, and myself at the VDC.”

Many eyes went wide.

“My my, Roi du Poison. I see you're taking off at full tilt right out of the gate. You're so bright and dazzling that everyone else is stunned into inaction,” said Rook.

Terrible assessment of the situation, Rook!

Kuroki raised his hand. “Does the person who ‘loses’ still get a cut of the prize money?”

“... no,” said Vil.

“Fuck,” said Kuroki.

“Who – who’s most in danger of losing right now?” Ace asked.

“Honestly? The three of you are so unpolished that it’s anyone’s game,” said Vil.

“Hey, hold up! You left me out of that whole speech!” Grim complained.

“... I didn’t ask for you to come,” said Vil, his eyebrows knitting.

Grim’s mouth dropped open in offense.

But everyone was distracted by a dull thud. As one, everyone’s gaze turned to the window, where they watched their esteemed Headmage slowly slide out of sight.

Vil looked kinda upset that his grand moment was getting overshadowed by Shenanigans. He was not going to like the next month.

Ito walked over to the window and opened it so Crowley could get inside. “Don’t know how you didn’t see the fucking colored glass –.”

Crowley threw himself at them, wrapping them in a hug.

“Ito-chan, you see me as family!” he crowed.

(He valiantly ignored the many first years glaring at him.)

“I said you were a weird uncle at best!” Ito snapped.

“We’ll work on it!”

“You will not,” said Kuroki.

Crowley seemed to deflate a little. “Hello, Yuuya-san.”

“What is going on,” said Epel.

“We hate the Headmaster,” Ace said. “Catch up.”

Epel looked even more confused, now.

The Headmaster stood up straighter – he did not release Ito, they were now hanging a meter off the ground with the most regretful expression ever seen on a human being – and cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, actually. Shoenheit-kun, this is Ito-chan, they will be your ‘manager’ for the next four weeks.”

Kuroki’s mouth dropped open.

Kuroki’s fake plan actually worked?!

Ito groaned. “I don’t wannaaaaaaa…”

“Should our team win first place, Roi du Poison and I will donate our shares of the prize to you as thanks for helping us,” Rook said.

Kuroki’s fake plan worked a million times better than expected?!

“Two shares?” said Grim, his eyes wide. “Henchman, you have to do it!”

“... did Grim just pimp me out?” Ito asked.

“Think about it, Henchman! Between your two shares, and the share the other henchman will get, we’ll be rich!”

The light in Crowley’s eyes dimmed.

“What?”

Kuroki’s fake plan was literally perfect, no notes. He was giving it a metaphorical promotion.

“Did you not hear, Headmage? I’m one of the five finalists.”

Crowley, finally, set Ito down. So he could lean against them and sob dramatically into their shoulder.

~

Kuroki may have won far more than he’d ever expected, but that didn’t mean Azul was off the hook.

He pulled the Yuus’ communal phone out of Enma’s pocket and sent a quick text message to ‘Octopussy gang’:

Keep yourself safe :)

All he got in response was a gif of an octopus laughing at him. Which is a very specific gif to have on hand. And an extremely unprofessional thing to send your employee. But okay.

Azul can laugh, for now. He will not be laughing later.

~

(When they stepped through the mirror to head back to their dorms, Ace collided head-first with the peacock decoration just beyond the mirror and stumbled right back into Pomefiore. They were never going to let him live this down.)