#at the end it's..... well it's 1.7 but at least it's all three of them!!!!!

[invinciblerodent]

I am unleashed What would you say are each of your Rook's greatest insecurities on a professional; individual; personal and romantic levels? What are they most confident in for the same?

Oh, thank you for asking!! ❤️❤️ Sorry for the wait, I've been having.... a time, as of late, lol. Not been feeling super motivated.

I'll probably have this be more detailed for Ver than for the boys (I built her somewhat intentionally on this front lol), but god I hope it'll make sense in the end

Verbena Mercar

For Ver, it will always, always ultimately boil down to what it typically does to in Tevinter: class and status. And that informs everything about her: wealth (or lack thereof), influence (or lack thereof), education (or the piss poor one she got), etc.

To avoid starting this at basically the big bang and write down her entire backstory, I wanna just say that I've been very interested in Tevinter (and the whole "magocracy" and the whole mess of it) basically since DA2, and I was very excited to find out that we'd get to actually play a character I could use to kinda dissect it, so this issue of status (how ephemeral it is when it's there, how apparent its absence can be, how even a person who isn't very concerned with attaining high status might still feel its effects) is fairly central to who Ver is as a person.

Because she was pretty much built around the fact that she is one of the Soporati, one of the faceless masses, she is affected by that in every area of her life: her morality, her politics, her relationships with people, everything.

At her core, there is kind of a three-part statement: "If I were rich and powerful, nothing could hurt me or the ones I love" (this is one thing that features heavily in her backstory), "since I'm not rich a powerful, what I can do will never be enough", and "-but I have to try anyway". (And all together, this is what kind of informed her joining the Shadow Dragons as well.)

And that's very vague, I know, so one more concrete, practical way I like to think about it is specifically relating to education.

It's partly just my little headcanon that Tevene, in Tevinter, is the language of art and academia (afaik all that the canon says is that using more Tevene instead of Trade is a sign of status and education, kinda extrapolated from there lol), and that Ver, as someone who was adopted into a military Soporati family and went to a military school where history and combat were the fields of study with the most emphasis, really struggles with it: she uses some of the terms that have entered common parlance (the swearwords), but she has a difficult time doing things like reading Great Works of Literature(TM), or accessing Important Poetry(TM)- a lot of the cultural wealth of her country that it is so proud of is virtually inaccessible to a large portion of the population, and she is thought of as "less than" for it by both the higher-ups, and herself.

That's kind of why she gravitates to figures like Varric (an author, a storyteller, someone who is wise but accessible), why she wants so badly to be able to trust Solas (but can't, after numerous efforts and a lot of internal conflict), and why she lies even to Davrin at that one point about knowing that Balmor guy, or that Ludrik she doesn't actually know from the Empress of Orlais.

Because she's insecure about feeling stupid (when she is anything but), which is because that relates to Tevinter's baked-in classism that she's internalized, and she wants to conceal what she feels is a weak spot as much as possible. (It's also why I reckon it'll take her a long time to take him to show Davrin, or anyone, her place, because even though she knows that a Warden, or a scout, or a Dock Town native is not about to care about cozy but sparse accommodations, but there is always a part of her that'll feel like who she is, where she's from, is shabby, is low-value, is not enough.)

As for what she's most confident in, I want to say it'd have to be... pretty much her community, which is what she takes pride in fostering, and that sort of is what makes her an ideal candidate for the role of "Rook": she's a problem-solver, a people-pleaser, and a trier. Always, always a trier, who likes to feel useful, who is an important stitch in the social fabric of the area, and knows what she does best: making connections, deescalating when it's possible, and laying people the fuck out when it isn't- keeping peace as the boots on the ground. (I headcanon that there were times when she gave someone a black eye at the start of the evening, but ended up drinking and swapping stories with them later that same night. She's kind of reminiscent of Hawke in those ways.)

I like to think that she has complex feelings about where she's from with a lot of pain and shame interwoven with love and pride (this is the part of her that I perhaps borrowed a bit from myself lol), she'll always feel at least a little bit insecure about her intelligence (even though she's smart, she just had a piss poor head start and lives in a staggeringly classist environment), about feeling like all she's good at is enforcing (even with all the work she does for the Shadows and otherwise), and about her flat purse and her one-bedroom shoebox in a poor part of town, right above a mediocre lunch place that always smells vaguely like fennel and scorched olive oil.

But at the end of the day, it's the people, always the people, who matter most.

Marcus Ingellvar

It's sort of a similar theme for Marcus, I think- to the point that their backgrounds are quite similar as orphans, only Marcus has kind of the opposite problem: I'm kind of trying to build him as my imposter syndrome guy.

With the Ingellvar backstory, there's that same element of being untethered, like with the Mercar one- only this time, I didn't change it (like I did for Ver, making it so that she lost her parents not as a baby but at like 8-10 years old), and started thinking with the part that it wasn't just that he was found in the catacombs for no reason, but (like that one skeleton's comment says) he was left there deliberately, and the Watchers knew that (as well as who it was), but they didn't want to tell him for some reason.

Knowing that, and being aware that he actually had parents at one point, he'll always have this odd sense that... somehow, there is something fundamentally wrong with the way he is. That something was so profoundly off with the way he was born that his parents rejected him on sight, and even if rationally he knows that's not his fault (it was probably that he was the child of parents who shouldn't have had a child for some reason, like, idk, he's a bastard prince or something, that's not important, it will not come into play), there is an unconscious (frustrating) part of him that's always trying to make up for it.

By being smart. By working hard. By studying hard, being right, being a scholar, and -to an extent- by looking good, looking respectable, being a person one can take seriously. There is a part of him that feels like he has to work harder than anyone to make up for his existence, and he doesn't take failure, or falling short of his own expectations, very well, and he's always gonna be at least somewhat insecure about his physical strength being ass. (That's part of where his quiet nature, his risk-avoidance, and his intense filter come from: that fear of falling short.)(I think this is why Solas won't be able to get into his head with the whole "this is your fault" bit he pulls- Marcus has run the scenario in his head a thousand times, knows he had no alternative, and knows that letting the ritual proceed uninterrupted would have been far worse. You can't make an overthinker overthink on purpose, he's done all that all on his own already.)

And for his area of confidence... yeah, I think I want to go slightly superficial, and say that it's as much his looks as it is his achievements. Someone with as much self-awareness as him, there is no way that he can't tell that his accomplishments are impressive (though not enough, never enough, gotta make up for all the oxygen one wastes somehow), or that his face isn't objectively conventionally attractive. I want to play with the contrast of that (that "I know I'm beautiful, but unfortunately I'm also a worthless piece of shit, so this person must only be interested in me for my beauty") and having his relationships prior to the story have been very superficial a bit more, but yeah, he's not that comfortably settled in my mind yet.

Tristan Thorne

As for Tristan, I want him to be a very straightforward, heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy (well, beneath his gruffness- his heart is on his sleeve but he has another, thicker sleeve on top of that), and say that... I mean, just simply being undead is kind of his greatest insecurity, and it definitely affects every area of his life. (He'll eventually overcome it during the story somewhat, but that's the future for him still lol.)

That's why he's so reclusive. Why he lived in this sort of... lonely, transient sort of way for decades. Why he lived a quite superficial life all this time, because, well, letting someone close and risking them finding out the truth is terrifying. (It's somewhat meant to mirror Blackwall's DAI story a little bit, only from a different angle, one that I feel makes kind of a somewhat more absurd story, and plays with Emmrich's story in a fun way as well.)

But like his insecurity is obvious, so is his area of confidence: his strength, his conviction, his Purpose.

It's a lot of fun, and a bit of an exercise to try and boil a character idea that strongly to a single concept or value (like Purpose), and then build a person back up around it while keeping true to it (if he were to divert from his Purpose, the spirit would suffer! We've seen what happened to Justice!!!!!), and I really like the way it's going with Tristan, with him going from this kind of one-note, single-minded person to someone more vibrant and multifaceted (who is, however, still him), and I'm honestly really looking forward to playing much, much more of him.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Work has been rough this week, it's really beaten me down. Can I get some moments of tender loving care from the charming reptile men here (shriv, bane, and Ohnaka)? Please have them care for their roughed up or worn out lover?

I am sorry work was rough for you! It took me a minute to be able to get to this, so I hope that it still does some good. I wrote three short ficlets for you! One for Cad, Hondo, and Shriv. I hope they find you well. Bane's was inspired by this work of art created by @deepbluespace4.

Total word count: 1.7+

Warnings: None. PURE FLUFF, caretaking, and the boys being kind to you.

---

You are a cantina girl; you serve drinks to scoundrels. You have a rough set of customers, and this week has been especially tiresome. You are dreading going back to work, though at least you have one measly day to call your own, but your lover is gone out on a job, and you are left to sulk alone.

You have no idea he came back early. He is watching you from afar. You take the same route back every night, only this time he observes you.

You kick a pebble, lost in your own thoughts. Your hands are shoved deep inside your pockets. If your mood was visible, it would have been a set of stark black lines, or a ball of malicious squiggles.

On top of everything, you barely make ends meet. Your boss is petty. Patrons had skimped on tips. You needed to do laundry, prepare a meal, clean your house, but you lack the required energy to do any of it.

You unlock the door to your paltry dwelling. Your stomach growls on empty, but all you can do is flop down on your bed. The tears come then. You sob into your pillows. A bittersweet release, though it somewhat helps.

Some few minutes later, your sense of smell is overpowered with the scent of food. Something warm, delicious, and meant for you. The hunter had been quiet. He had snuck in while your head was buried in your cushions. He had brought in a bag of street fare, takeout from a local market stall.

“Knock, knock, lil’ lady.”

You didn’t move. His throaty drawl had frozen you. You try to calm your tears as Cad Bane places the takeout on the table. His head cants to the side and so does that ungainly hat; he is quizzical, curious of your foul mood.

“It’s jus’ me,��� he assures you. He hadn’t meant to frighten you, though his steps are often silent - it’s by second nature, and you had gotten used to it.

Your neck cranes up to look Bane in the eye. He frowns at you, or at least you thought he did, as his expression was nearly always wry.

“Brought ye somethin’,” he states quietly.

Bane strides forward, his grip upon his gun belt, the Duros toying with a toothpick that lives between his teeth with a motile tongue. He motions towards you, beckoning you to stand with the curling of a hand, a folding of four blue fingers and one thumb.

Your heart felt somewhat lighter at this nonverbal request; you went to him at his behest. Your arms encircle him about his tapered waist. He hesitates for just one moment before he envelops you in a cool, welcomed embrace.

It was said Cad Bane was cold-blooded in more ways than one, but he has a soft spot – one that you seem to fill, for you make him feel not so by himself.

“Ah don’t 'spose ye missed me?” he asks of you, though he thought he knew the answer. You respond with more tears and with a tighter grip upon his person; you had missed him terribly.

You give him a squeeze as he rests his hands along your back. He closes those crimson eyes of his and rumbles his contentment.

“Ah'll take dhat as a yes.”

He must have been in a kind of mood to be this nice to you, but you are thankful for him and will never take him for granted. The dark rain cloud has lifted, your temperament has shifted, and it is all thanks to him – this gangly man who wears a hat and hugs better than the rest.

---

You are a Spicerunner for the Ohnaka Gang – it is voluntarily, though you are weary. You sigh deeply as you situate your transport ship upon the steady ground. Home sweet home, or rather Hondo’s. You are just a visitor, though he often keeps you by his side.

You are more than just a flavor, a one and done. You are also a great pilot, though the Weequay is somewhat partial to you. When in your company he forsakes all others, and he gives you a home here with him on Florrum.

You were gone longer than you meant to be. Imperial TIEs had come upon your whereabouts. You had to hide in secrecy on some small moon. The cramped quarters, the low rations, had all nearly gotten to you.

You exit the hatch and stumble down the ramp. You are so tired from being vigilant, you nearly miss your step. Likewise, you hadn’t even noticed, though the pirate had come to greet you. He catches you in his outstretched arms before you hit the rocky earth.

“Water. Now,” he commands someone just out of your sight. He turns your body in his arms, adjusting you so you can look at him. His gray eyes behind his goggles appear concerned. He walks you gently to a nearby hovercar.

“You poor dear,” he says with a gentle lilt, “I was afraid someting had happened tu you.”

He opens the door and carefully sets you down. The ride is short up to his fortress, but you are happy to be away from the burning heat of the noonday sun.

You are handed off a cup; you chug its contents. Hondo picks you up like a bride being carried across a threshold as soon as you are done. He takes you up some stairs; you are hardly a bother for him. He had seen you fly in and had prepared a bath.

His undressing of you is sensual, though he is respectful. This moment is about you, and not what you could do together. He peels off your boots, your many layers, then guides you by his hand into the warm and soothing bath.

You relax, a sigh exhaled from your parted lips. You bat your lashes at him, slowly, and he gives you his signature, sly smile.

Water is rare on this dry desert planet. He cares enough about you to make sure you are clean and rested. He takes one foot up without him asking, his hands tough yet mild as he massages it with rapt attention and the utmost diligence.

“Du you feel better?” he asks of you in his most dulcet tone of voice. You can only nod your head as you dip down lower into the suds.

“Much,” you croon for him.

 Hondo was a catch, and a wily one at that, but he had his moments, and you were very thankful for him.

“So glad tu hear et, love,” he says as his lips brush against your ankle. You thought you must have died and met with Maker, for if not, he would surely one day be your undoing.

---

You cannot sleep; you are plagued by anxiousness. You have deprived yourself of rest and nutriment. You rove the shelves in the Restoration’s cargo hold, taking note of inventory, the supplies needed to keep the rebellion going.

A Star Destroyer had been spotted half a parsec out just days ago. Everyone was on high alert. That meant Danger Squadron was more often on patrol, and you were more than worried for it.

Shriv was the commander of that squad. He wasn’t the best at leadership. It wasn’t that you thought lowly of him, but he had told you that himself.

You tried to keep your mind preoccupied, squaring away reports and communicating shortages, but whenever you tried to lay down your head, your intrusive thoughts kept you awake in bed.

Finally, they gave Shriv a brief reprieve. It was Black Squadron’s turn to guard the fleet. He came upon your smiling face at a viewport on the lower levels, having searched the ship for you. You are weak, pale, tired, and hungry - his extended absence from you had made you ill.

“Fullua?” the Duros asks as he approaches you cautiously. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so-”

You outstretch your right arm, your pallid fingers. You stroke the lines etched into his cheek before you almost faint from pure exhaustion, though he catches you just in time.

“I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I missed …” you manage to get out. Shriv curls a lip, his eyes brimming with worry and concern. He guides you to a lift, he holds you in his arms the whole way to your quarters. He coerces you to sit down at a table.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He strokes your face before he departs from you as you emit a whine. He had just returned, and he was already deserting you, or so it felt.

You lay your head down on the table. You do everything you can do to keep from crying. Ten minutes rolls by before the Duros comes back to you, though he is loaded down with food.

Shriv had raided the Restoration’s mess hall. He brought you the leftovers of that evening’s meal, and a little for himself. “Eat,” he lightly commands you, a frown seated upon his face.

You smile at him. You partake of a piece of bread, though your other hand only wants to hold his, and so you did.

You eat all you can stomach. He watches you in total silence, though he makes sure you get your fill before he stands and helps you to stand as well.

Shriv guides you to the mattress within your dorm. He lovingly helps you take your boots off. He blushingly assists you get undressed, though he averts his eyes like a gentleman. He is being silly, you have already been intimate together, but Shriv has always been respectful towards you, and never once made you feel uncomfortable.

Once you are prepared for bed, Shriv lies down and wraps you in his big, strong arms. He cradles you as carefully as he might a newborn youngling. He kisses you upon your forehead. He hums a little tune; a melody that accompanies a song his life-giver had sung to him on Duro.

Within minutes, you are asleep. Shriv will drift off too, eventually. Your mind is filled with pleasant dreams, as Suurgav had shown you care and kindness. It was only one of the many reasons you loved him so.

---

Masterlist

[writtenonreceipts]

ACOTAR, Feysand ~1.7 words, just a little thing for the holidays.

Home for the Holiday

A fire cackled happily in the hearth as Feyre moved around the living room of the house.  She strung garland from the fireplace, keeping the ends from the sparks that fluttered out on occasion.  Lining the mantle were stocking hooks and ceramic snowmen.  

Leaning over one of the half empty plastic bins, Feyre pulled out a few cheap decorative pillows declaring Let it Snow! and Ho! Ho! Ho!

They were the same pillows from years past.  Ones that should most certainly be tossed out and exchanged for new ones, but these were the first decorations her sisters and her had purchased after their parents died.  And Feyre couldn’t bring herself to toss them out just yet.  Besides, Nesta might kill her if she tried.

“Okay, the hot cocoa is ready!” Elain called out from the kitchen.  

Feyre glanced over to see Elain poke her head around the corner.  She wore a terrible disarray of mismatched pajamas combined with an apron that had reindeer prancing around on it.

“Thanks, Elain,” Feyre said, she smiled and turned back to the oil painting she had made last year of an angel.

“You want your usual peppermint?” Elain asked, her painfully kind smile alluding to something akin to pity.

“Sure,” Feyre said, if only to get Elain to stop making that face at her.

Elain disappeared and Feyre sighed heavily.

No matter what Feyre had tried the past few weeks, nothing seemed to put her in the mood for the holidays.  No amount of baking, shopping, decorating, family time had made a difference.

All because her boyfriend couldn’t be there for the holiday.  He’d recently accepted a job promotion, which was wonderful, but it required him to move out of Veleris and to Hybern.  Once, Rhysand had sworn he would never leave Veleris, the city he loved so much, but Amarantha had made a far too appealing offer apparently.

Feyre took a deep breath.  At least they’d managed to skype yesterday.  It wasn’t the same of course.  Christmas Eve without him was turning to be unbearable and Elain’s doe-eyed stare was not helping.

Maybe she should just go to bed.

“Merry Christmas!” Nesta called out.  She entered the house with a loud bang, followed by a curse. “Hell.  I might have broken Lucien’s present.  Oh well.”

“Be nice!” Elain yelled.  She rounded the corner with a giant mug that she handed to Feyre before going to help relieve Nesta of some of her many bags. “Geez, Nes.  How much crap do you have.”

“Some of it’s Cassian and Azriel’s,” Nesta grumbled.  She flipped her braid over one shoulder as she hurried the rest of the way into the house and dumped the bags on the couch. “They had something to take care of.  Probably a prank.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Cassian tried to stuff himself down the chimney.”

“Maybe he should,” Elain mused, “it might actually cheer Feyre up.”

“I’m fine,” Feyre insisted.  She punctuated her words by taking a long sip of cocoa, whipping cream staining her upper lip. “We’ll skype all day tomorrow...when he’s not in a meeting.”

“Who does that woman think she is, not letting her employees have time off?” Nesta said.  She pulled presents from the bags and began arranging them beneath the tree. “I mean I know we don’t really celebrate Christmas, but it’s a holiday.  It’s family time.”

“He’s the project leader for this really important account,” Feyre sighed. “He loves his job.”

“He loves you more,” Nesta said.

The words were so sudden and unexpected that it took Feyre a moment to register them.

“What do you mean?” she asked her older sister.  

Neta shrugged as she finished placing presents under the tree.

There was nothing else to say on the topic as Elain demanded a sister picture, followed by a heated discussion of which Christmas movies they watch first.  It was barely eight o’clock, but they all seemed ready to delve into whatever tradition they could get their hands on.  Or maybe it was just Elain and Nesta trying to distract Feyre from Rhysands absence.

While they were in the middle of one movie, Lucien arrived.  He’d finished up his shift as a nurse in the ER earlier than expected.

“We’re just getting to the good part!” Elain told him as he came over to sit on the floor just in front of her.  Despite there being plenty of space on the couch, he still was in the habit of avoiding being closer to Nesta then necessary.

“Where are the others?” Lucien asked. “There’s a storm coming in.  It started snowing while I was on my way into the city.”

“What?” Nesta demanded sitting up straighter.  She paused the movie and looked at Lucien. “It’s snowing?”

Feyre looked to the front window, where indeed, snow could be seen in the distant street lights.  A white Christmas for certain.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Lucien was saying.

Nesta was having no part of that, however.  She had her phone out in an instant and was calling Cassian.

“He knows how to drive in the snow, Nes,” Feyre said.  Her sister held up a hand to silence her.

Rolling her eyes, Feyre stood and gathered empty mugs of hot chocolate to take to the kitchen.  Apart from the tree and the small tea lights dangling over the kitchen counter, the house was dark.  But not in the miserable sort of way.  This was the kind of dark that exuded warmth and hope.  

The fire had died down hours ago and was not smoldering, keeping the house toasty.

As she set the empty mugs in the sink, Feyre looked out the window just above and watched the snow falling in thick folds through the night.  It made her all the more grateful for being inside right now, but she just couldn’t get over the seed of loneliness in her heart.  

She couldn’t cry about it now or else Elain and Nesta would try and cheer her up and it would ruin their Christmas Eve.  Rubbing a hand over her face, Feyre filled the empty mugs with water so they would be easier to clean.

Just then the front door burst open and Cassian’s booming laugh broke the silence.

“Merry Christmas!” He shouted.

In the living room, Feyre could hear feet pounding and knew Nesta was jumping up to engulf her boyfriend in a hug.  She listened as boots were kicked off and Cassian made a loud noise of pain, likely in response to a punch from Nesta.

“Where have you guys been?” Elain asked.

Cassian didn’t respond.  She heard when Azriel entered and took his sweet time to close the door behind him.  She would need to put on a thicker pair of socks.

Making sure her eyes were clear, Feyre rounded the corner from the kitchen. 

“Do you guys want some hot chocolate?” She asked and then stopped in her tracks.

Because not only were Cassian and Azriel there grinning like five-year-olds but a third person was there too.

Feyre slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, because there disheveled and jetlagged and still breathtakingly handsome was Rhysand.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

Unable to hold herself back, Feyre ran to him, flinging herself in his arms.  He caught her easily and held her tightly against him.  Tears leaked from Feyre’s eyes as she buried her nose in his neck.  Despite the long three months apart--his touch, his scent, everything was so, so familiar.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, tears unabashedly slipping down her cheeks. “I thought you said you’d get fired if you came back.”

Rhysand cupped her face in his hands beaming down at her with his brilliant violet eyes.

“It’s hard to fire someone when they’ve already quit,” Rhysand said.  He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged.

“You what?” Feyre gaped at him. “This is your dream job, Rhys.”

“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head.  “Not really.”

Around them, their friends and family got distracted by other things to allow the couple time alone.  Someone started the movie back up and a Christmas song was playing in the background.  

Feyre fisted her hands in Rhysands jacket, unwilling to release him yet.  She still couldn’t believe that he was here before her.  Nor could she fully grasp what he was telling her.

“I couldn’t keep working there,” Rhysand said.  “Not for her.  Not in that place.  Not so far from you.”

Feyre bit her bottom lip, shaking her head. “You love your job.”

Rhys’ response was automatic. “I love you more.”

No matter how often she heard them, the words still sent a thrill through her.  She laughed lightly and looked away from him to where Azriel was stoking the fire and Cassian drew Nesta in his arms as they sat on the couch.  Elain leaned her head on Lucien’s shoulder as she mouthed the words along to the movie that played in the background.

The house was full of love and family for the first time in a long time.  Feyre had spent so long searching for these feelings of peace and comfort and now she had them.  She didn’t want to do anything to alter them--to diminish them.

But she also couldn’t let Rhys walk away from his work.

“Rhys,” she began.

His warm hand slid to cup her chin, gently tugging it up.  It took her a moment to meet his gaze.  Mostly because she was, again, tearing up.

“Everything about that job was tearing us apart,” he said as he leaned his forehead against hers, “and I refuse to let that happen any more.”

Feyre surged forward and kissed him.  There was so much they needed to figure out now.  So much to talk about and plan.  But for now, she was content to kiss him.  Content to be with him, with her family.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Feyre darling,” he said.

And it was.  It was a glorious night together with snow falling down outside, the fire roaring in the hearth, and they were all together.

.end.

#

thanks for reading!

tags: using my general tags

@tottenhamboys20  @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival 

@my-fan-side  @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

[dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade]

Reunion

Request: HERE  A/N: UPLOADING IT AGAIN BC I FORGOT TO TAG IT SORRY Soo it’s been what, one year, since I last posted a fic here? I’m kind of rusty ngl but nevertheless, it felt comforting to write something like this :) As usual, critiques and comments are welcome  Word count: 1.7 K+ Warnings: none

To be added - or removed - from the taglist, please DM me or leave me an ask!

GIF credit goes to @edgeofgreta; the original post is HERE

You walked into the apartment and set the two groceries-filled shopping bags onto the laminated floor. You kicked off your shoes and carried the bags into the open kitchen, placing them on the counter. With boredom, you took out every single item and placed them in their designated spaces. With the same growing boredom, you made your way back into the living room and threw yourself on the navy-blue sofa with your head sinking in one of the biggest pillows.

You pick up your phone and look at the screen – specifically, at the lockscreen wallpaper, which was a photo of you and Jake. Josh had taken that photo on one of the getaways you made together. Jake had on a beige shirt with his top four buttons undone – in other words, only with his lower two buttons done – and his favorite black hat. He was standing up tall, a wide smile on his face, and you were leaning against him, with your head placed on his right shoulder. You smiled and unlocked your phone, then opened the messages app and texted Jake.

I miss you :( Why does tour have to last this long?

Underneath the blue message bubble appeared the notification that the message had been read, then three typing dots appeared on Jake’s end.

I miss you too, honey. I can’t wait to get home and see you.

You begin to type.

Can we facetime later?

The answer came shortly.

Sorry, but tonight we have a gig. Tomorrow, too… We’re having practice now. Josh has again too much energy and needs to drain it a little bit before going onstage. Got to go now :( Love you

You typed back a formal luck-wishing message and threw the phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa. You were bored out of your mind and in the mood to do nothing whatsoever. Jake had been gone for almost three months now. You understood that it was his job and those were the terms and conditions you agreed to when you started dating him, but you didn’t figure at the time that separation would feel like that. It was safe to say that from time to time you missed him so much it hurt you.

You curled into a fetal position and turned on the TV. Flicking through the channels, you stopped at MTV. Highway Tune just began to play. Your heart grew at the sight of the boys and especially at the sight of Jake. You were so proud of them for getting that far and the mere thought that there actually is a far longer way for them to go made your heart beat in exhilaration. As the last notes of the song echoed through the room, you closed your eyes, pleased that you had seen the band on TV again.

You woke up from the “nap” way too late – it was 1 AM when you opened your eyes – so you moved from the living room to the bedroom. You didn’t bother changing your clothes and you just got underneath the blankets covering the double bed. Before falling asleep again, you looked over at the empty space next to you and you caressed the sheets, wishing that Jake would be there.

The new morning brought along a new day, but unfortunately, the base routine was the same: breakfast, staying in bed for way longer than you should’ve, going outside for some more groceries, flipping through magazines, watching TV, texting – or at least trying to text – Jake. The difference was that today, you called in sick for work and decided to do something fun.

After calling multiple of your friends, asking if they were free to go shopping with you, you finally let yourself defeated and decided you’d visit some shops on your own.

While you were at the bookshop – the one you frequently visited with Jake – you found a puzzle which, put together, should create a 3D globe with multiple images from the Renaissance era. You figured that Jake would find that puzzle at least as intriguing as you did. I could start putting together a welcome-home gift for Jake, you grinned as the thought crossed your mind. You picked the puzzle box off the shelf and walked around the bookshop with it. You stopped in front of the vinyl-filled boxes and you began browsing through them. Jake had a ridiculously large vinyl collection, but you listened to it together so many times that you almost knew every record by heart.

After way too much time spent pondering which records to get, you finally settled for The Doors’ Morrison Hotel and T-Rex’s Electric Warrior. On your way to the register, you stopped by the wine-for-special-occasions section and picked up a bottle.

With your heart filled with excitement, you came back home and called out. “Jake, I’m –,” but you stopped as you remembered that he wasn’t actually home. You slowly let the paper bag containing the puzzle, the wine bottle and the two records on the ground as you locked the door. Before unpacking, you checked your phone. No notifications from Jake. You felt your heart lightly twitch. You couldn’t blame Jake: he was just busy and most likely tired.

You took out the new acquisitions and arranged them on the low coffee table and smiled at the thought of Jake coming in through the front door.

You were tired, so you quickly did your night routine and you got into bed. Once you were in bed though, you couldn’t fall asleep. You just kept tossing back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position. Unannouncedly and unexpectedly, tears welled up in your eyes as you laid there, alone, facing the empty space to your left. You didn’t fight the tears back; you were alone in the darkness, there was no one who could see you. You just missed Jake so much. You missed the smell of his cologne imprinted even in his pajamas. You missed his laughter that managed to make you laugh all the time and you missed those moments when you’d both begin to laugh hysterically and you’d laugh at Jake’s laugh and he’d laugh at yours, and you both laughed so much that you forgot what started it in the first place. You missed his random moments of dancing around the house and you missed his complaints mostly aimed at Josh. As the memories reeled in the back of your mind, your sobs got more frequent. Thinking of it, three months didn’t sound like such a long time, but in reality, time is tricky. Three months can easily feel like three hours and just as easy can feel like three years. For you, it felt like three decades. You mindlessly grabbed Jake’s pillow and hugged it tightly to your chest, wishing it would be Jake instead of just a pillow.

As a new day dawned, you shuffled in your sleep and hugged the pillow again. You didn’t want to wake up just yet.

“Wakey, wakey,” a voice said from somewhere behind you, almost through a dream.

“Five more minutes,” you groaned, unwilling to open your eyes. You paused then and held your breath.

“You’re gonna be late for work,” the voice spoke again and a warm finger traced your side.

You jumped almost instantly. “Jake!” you shouted and collapsed over him, your arms circling his shoulders. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply – that faint smell of freshly squeezed lemons, mint and cigarettes. His arms circled your waist and you both fell onto the bed. “God, I missed you so much,” you whisper.

“I missed you too… I am so happy to be back home,” he said and hugged you tighter.

Time stood still for you. You were in your happy place and nothing could get you away from there. You pulled away and looked at Jake. You ran your index fingers on both sides of his face and then cupped his face in your hands. Jake didn’t break eye contact with you not even for a second. He softly leaned into your right hand and with his right hand, he took your free one and brought it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on it. “Come here,” he whispered and smiled at you, as his hand made its way up to your cheek, slowly guiding you in towards his lips. You closed your eyes and slightly tilted your head to the side, anticipation growing in your stomach. His lips on yours felt so soft, so satin-like and sweet. You couldn’t get enough of this feeling. As an instinctive gesture, you brought your hand up to Jake’s face and let your fingers roam over his soft skin until they mindlessly tangled into his hair. Jake chuckled in-between needier and needier kisses, “More to come later.” He softly pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. “Next time, you’ll quit your job and come with me on tour.”

“Definitely,” you giggle, already picturing it in your mind. City after city, state after state – and you’d be there to see it all. “Jakey,” you say and pout a little.

“Yes, I will cuddle with you,” he nodded his head before you even got the occasion to ask the question. You break out in laughter and fall into the bed which, now that Jake was home, was even more comfortable.

You snaked your arms around Jake’s torso and pulled yourself closer to him. Jake pulled the blanket over the two of you in one swift move and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “I’m never letting you go,” you whisper and cuddle closer to his chest.

“Please never do,” he answered and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Did one of the boys tell you by any chance that we’re coming back early?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, that’s good. I wanted it to be a surprise,” he spoke lowly. “I saw you had some wine in the kitchen.”

You giggled. “It’s for us, for when you would come home.”

“I am home now,” Jake raised an eyebrow.

“I’m calling in sick again,” you announced and Jake’s laugh echoed through the room.

“That’s my girl.”

Tags: @myownparadise96, @satans-helper, @littlegeekwonder, @songbirdkisses, @angelstraightfr0mhell, @freeeshavacadoo, @safari-karrot​, @mountainofthesunn​, @bigthighsandstupidguys​, @starshinekiszka

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 03 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 1.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (02)

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Keeping The Promise

Smiling, you listen to Mrs. Ellyne stories. It's been a week since you woke up, and three days ago they told you to take walks around the hospital every once in a while. And that's how you met Mrs. Katherine Ellyne, eighty-four years old, staying here to treat a broken leg. She's the one distracting you when Keanu is out to rest and eat, or in a meeting with your doctors. She's very kind, and you enjoy listening to her.

Seated in the small cafeteria, which is empty at the moment, you give her all your attention as she tells you about her High School sweetheart. You wonder if you had any crushes back then, but it's useless to try. So far, nothing came back. Not even a flash, as Dr. Harris said it could happen. Maybe a dream, she said, but when you fall asleep, everything you see it's the hospital, Keanu, and the doctors. Everything else is blank.

“(Y/N)?” Someone calls, and you recognize Dr. Wright's voice. Turning at him, you mutter a ‘good morning’. “There's someone here to see you. But you must be sure you feel fine.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you give a glance to Mrs. Ellyne, saying goodbye before standing up. “Who is it?” You ask, walking over him.

“Her name is Laura. She's a friend of yours.”

Laura. Keanu told you about her. “Alright. Let's do this.” Nodding, you start following him through the hospital.

Laura has been your friend since Elementary school, and, even though she moved away for High School, you never lost contact. You didn't know why Keanu was telling you all this yesterday, but now you do. He wanted you to know at least something before meeting up with her.

When you enter your room, a very worried woman with teary eyes stands up from the couch. There was a spark of hope in your heart, that her long, blond hair and green eyes will bring something back. That her face would somehow feel familiar. It doesn't.

“(Y/N).” She mumbles, running to pull you into a hug. It hurts a little, despite the medication you've been taking for the pain. But you don't complain, hugging her back. “I can't believe it, honey. I'm so sorry.” She cries, and you don't know what to do. “I should've come sooner but the doctors told me it was too soon and–”

“It's alright.” You assure her, offering a small smile when you pull away. “Everything is... Complicated.”

“You... You don't... Recognize me, do you?” She stutters, wiping some tears away.

Shaking your head no, you look down. “I'm sorry.” It doesn't take much for you to realize you want Keanu. You don't know what to do, what to say. Laura is breaking down, and it's your fault. And you just don't know what to do.

“My God.” She says, a hand covering her mouth. You notice when her eyes fall on your belly. She knows, of course she does. Keanu did say you two are pretty close. Or were pretty close.

“Don't worry. I'm... I'm alright.” Assuring her, you turn around when you listen to the door opening. A wave of relief washes over you when you see Keanu. Smiling at him, you gesture at Laura. “Uhm... Hi. This is Laura.” Your head hurts badly, and you're not sure what to do. “Laura, this is Keanu, my husband.”

“Oh my.” She exclaims, and you remember who Keanu is. “It's really him.”

“Didn't you know I was married to him?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you ask her.

“I-I did. Of course, I did.” She speaks fast, and her nervousness takes you by surprise. She must be a fan. “But I've never met him in person, I... You lived in Miami and only now you came to New York so...”

“Alright.” Nodding, you exchange a glance with Keanu. “Do you want... A selfie or something?” You're not sure if you can even offer her that, but you're lost here. Taking a deep breath, you move to the bed to sit down because the room is starting to spin around.

“Oh, no.” She bursts out, speaking fast. “Not in a hospital at least.” Laura stands there awkwardly as Keanu comes to your side. “So you two... Are you two alright?”

Laura sounds weird, and you want to ask what's wrong. She probably doesn't know what to do, seeing you in this situation. And neither do you. “We're doing fine,” Keanu answers before you can, glancing at Laura. “Actually I have good news.”

“What is it?” Looking at him, you move up on the bed, resting your back against the headboard.

“You'll be discharged tomorrow.” He says in a low voice, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And we'll be going home.”

“Finally.” You say, unable to describe how happy you are to finally leave the hospital.

(Y/N) couldn't even begin to understand the feeling her smile provokes in his heart. Keanu has to control himself not to touch her, to take her hand, caress her cheek. He's caught among too many confusing feelings. He doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, but maybe she's expecting him to be more intimate, since to her, they're married. But he knows it's a lie, and he knows he shouldn't be too touchy with her. It's a constant fight between his morals and the agreement he made of looking after her.

“I'll leave you two to talk.” He says, giving her a small smile before walking away.

“Tell me how you're feeling,” Laura asks just as he's closing the door.

Keanu needs to talk, and, as much as he doesn't want to, he has to find Dr. Harris. He's still uncertain about this whole marriage idea, and part of him will blame her if this backfires. But she's one of the best psychologists in New York, and he has to trust her to do what's best for (Y/N).

It takes a while, a little more than thirty minutes for her to enter her office, where Keanu has been waiting. He's bouncing his legs nervously, hands resting on his lap. He lets everything out to her, all his worries. He's taking (Y/N) to his house, a place she believes to be her home. What is he supposed to do? Sleep on the same bed? Give her some space? Let her set the pace? But what is she's counting on him to do that?

“Mr. Reeves, you're thinking too much.” Dr. Harris says, taking her glasses off and lying them on the table before her. “I need you to have a clear head about this. If she suspects and figures out, it could be too hard on her. She's still recovering and it could endanger the child.” Keanu leans forward, both hands running through his hair. “I know it's a lot to ask of you, Mr. Reeves, but you agreed. And I don't think we can end things just now. She could–”

“Everything I want is for her to get well. But this... I'm lying to her.” He raises his voice, angry, worried. Too much depends on him now, and if he does something wrong, something that could affect her in any way, he'd never forgiven himself. He just needs to know how to do things right. “Damn it, she thinks I'm her husband. She thinks I'm the father of her child. This isn't fair. She's trusting me.” He punches the table before getting up.

“Mr. Reeves, we can call this off of you want.” She sighs, and Keanu paces around the room. He can't do it. It isn't right. She needs her true husband, the one who's dead.

Shaking his head, Keanu's thoughts are racing. Closing his eyes, her image comes to his mind. When he first saw her, how she cried and hugged him. The promises he made, that he'd be by her side through the process. And the pregnancy. He couldn't call this off now, he couldn't leave her alone. “I got this.” He says, leaving the office and letting the door close with a loud thud behind him.

Right now, he hates Dr. Harris. He hates Dr. Wright and everyone who put him in this position. But it's not because of him. It's because of her. Keanu can't believe what he's doing to her. He's betraying her. And he can't even imagine what will happen when she remembers. When this lie is torn apart. She'll hate him, and he can't blame her for doing so.

Stopping by her room, his hand on the door handle, Keanu looks through the square window. (Y/N) is seated on the bed, with Laura caressing her stomach. She's smiling, and if anyone else looks, they'd never guess what she's going through. He didn't even notice the smile on his lips, lighting up his features. She's so beautiful, he can't deny that. And he can't stop looking.

Slowly, making sure to make his presence known, he opens the door and walks in.

“You have to start thinking about names,” Laura says, both the girl's eyes laying on him. But Keanu's attention is on her alone.

“I couldn't know.” She mutters, eyes on him. “Do we have anything in mind yet?” As she speaks, Keanu moves closer to her, making up his mind. He would let her choose the names, obviously. He wouldn't make any decisions for her. It's her child. Her voice is so sweet, so soft... It makes his heart beat a little faster.

“Not yet.” He answers, standing beside her.

“Alright.” (Y/N) smiles, turning her attention back at her friend.

The two women engage in another conversation, and he moves to the couch. Keanu tries to focus on his phone, but eventually, his eyes are attracted to her. Laura manages to make her laugh, and the sound is sweet, like a song. He's still staring when (Y/N)'s eyes meet his. She furrows her eyebrows a little, her smile getting a little brighter. Keanu couldn't help but sigh.

He knows it suddenly, that he'll do everything he can to help her. And when it's over, it's over. But until then, he'll keep his promise. He'll stand by her.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00

[writtingfiction]

Claude and a fake dating au please

Please enjoy this mondern version of them cast with the fake dating au! School starts in three days, lets see how many stories I can write before then, enjoy!!

pairing: Byleth x Claude

words: 1.7 k

Now when Claude had received the invitation to the corporate annual party he wasn’t expecting much, just the usual black and white suit and talk about how things are going well within the company. Maybe brag a little about how they got the upper hand in sales for the first quarter of the year. Nonetheless, as cunning as he was, he wasn’t expecting to show up at the party with his former boss from back when he was an intern with the Seiros Inc. Not only did he show up with his former boss, but he’s also said to everyone, within his company and rivalling companies that the two of them are together.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when the two enter the room all eyes on them. Byleth has half a mind to pat his arm gently in a way to comfort him. Claude wants to crawl into his own skin the way Edelgard and Dimitri look at him. Never mind how Seteth absolute seethes as he sends daggers towards him ready to rip him apart the second, he’s left alone. He thinks the only person to not be surprised by this was his own assistant. Although, he didn’t have the heart to tell him that this wasn’t exactly real.

When the pair had separated his close friends swarmed him. There were a lot of comments and many, many questions. He needed a drink. Hilda was incessantly poking his side, demanding for answers as Lorenz was lecturing him about something, he’s not paying attention.

“If you keep asking me all at the same time, I can’t answer you.” Claude said annoyed. Just barely making it to the table to grab a drink. The small crowd goes silent before they all speak up again. He shoots them a look before he hears one voice clearly through all the voices.

“Ok, ok, ok, I just need to know how.” It was Lysithea. Claude looks her in eye and then towards the rest of his friends. He’s now very glad that the two of them talked about this beforehand and came up with a story. Claude clears his throat.

“Well,” He starts off, trying to give off a vibe of mysteriousness and he is doing it well. “It started after Byleth got back from her overseas trip— “

“That that was 8 months ago!!” Hilda let out a whispered cry. Claude sends her a glare.

“Yes—As I was saying, after the overseas trip she had. We got back into touch as she was looking for a new job. I told her she could apply at Leicester Alliance and things went on from there.” Claude said, sipping his sweet drink. Rapheal lands a rough hand on his shoulder congratulating him.

“I have half a mind to scold you Claude, getting together with a former colleague like that? Do you even know what this could do to the company?” Lorenz started off with his lecture and Claude tried his hardest not to eye roll.

“Hence why we kept hidden for so long. We also hid it well mind you.” Claude said. Pointing a finger to no one in particular. Lysithea shakes her head.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Lysithea was a very smart girl for her age. Even though he constantly teases her for it, he couldn’t help but curse at how she knew he avoided the question. He had hoped his friends would carry the conversation away when they knew the least amount.

“What was your question, again?”

“How. How did you manage to convince Byleth to get with you?” Claude hums. His way of buffering so he can recall what him and Byleth discussed.

“I charmed her. Impeccable planning if I might say so myself.” Claude says. Grin as wide as possible to show off how cocky he was. He could see the very visible eye roll from Hilda.

“Totally Claude, now will you stop and just tell us?” Hilda whines out.

“Tell you what?” It’s a new voice. Everyone turns to see Byleth standing at the edge of their little circle. She’s dressed in smooth black dress that hugs her figure comfortably. There’s some gold jewelry on her wrists and neck. A matching pendent with Claude with his own necklace. Byleth’s outfit compliments Claude’s nicely, a couple picked straight from a magazine.

“Byleth! They were asking about how I managed to get you under my arm.” Claude said. Approaching her, smoothly wrapping an arm around her waist.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was caught like a deer in headlights when I had asked you out for dinner.” Byleth said. Voice flat with a hint of teasing to it. The cat-like smirks that appeared on half of his friends faces had almost made him loose his composure. It didn’t help either that what Byleth said was true. When things first started out, Byleth suggested a dinner to chat about things and it honestly caught him off guard.

“Well, now they don’t need to know that.” Claude let out a nervous chuckle. He thought he had everything under control but this woman had him rethinking all his plans in under a second. She was just as or more cunning than him. A rare smile appeared on her face.

“No need to hide what happened. Have you told them about how you almost fell down the stairs earlier?” Byleth teased as Claude went red, choking on his words.

Claude trying to save himself and barely in doing so. Byleth was ready to crumble the reputation he had as cool lover and was trying too. Not with fake information either, he didn’t know if it was worse. However, while trying to keep it together he was catching things. People were relaxing around him for once. His close friends and coworkers were smiling and sharing stories from their lives. His rivals weren’t so tense around him, Seteth stopped glaring at him throughout the night. The old man was more focused on his sister than him tonight.

Byleth was making everyone around him more comfortable by telling them a side that only she would see. Claude shook his head with a small smile on his lips. Perhaps she was more cunning than he was.

The rest of the evening goes on without a hitch and he’s very happy with himself. Byleth noticed the change in demeanor. She wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. However, she’s stopped in her tracks by two familiar faces. Edelgard and Dimitri approach her before they leave for the night.

“Byleth, if I may,” Dimitri speaks up, long blonde hair tied back nicely. There’s a small braid on the side of his hair leading to the bun. “Would it still be too late to offer you a position within the Faerghus Knights?” There’s an eye roll from Edelgard.

“What he means to say, even though you’re with Claude would you be open to a new and better position? Preferably with the Adrestian Corp.” Edelgard said. Byleth can only smile, a small part of her is glad they haven’t given up the friendly rivalry she only hopes it doesn’t end in an ugly way.

“I’m sorry, my loyalty goes to Claude. Not just because he’s my boyfriend.” Byleth felt something twist at her heart. It felt strange to call him that openly. She had spent the last month or two coming to terms with the deal that the two of them made. The two leaders of their respective company's sigh.

“We’ll get you one day, Professor.” Dimitri said a large smile on his face. Byleth only shook her head at the old nickname. Yes, she was their boss and taught them how to do their jobs to the best of their abilities but she didn’t deserve that title. She bids them fair well and goes to rejoin Claude. She knew the man was getting weary with how the others questioned him relentlessly about company issues now that pleasantries were over.

She grabs both of their coats before she reenters the room. A clear sign that they were leaving for the night and no one would stop them for a chat. It was one thing she was grateful for; they knew when people wanted to leave and would let them. It takes Byleth a moment to find him even with everyone who has left. When she does spot him, he’s surround by those greedy slimy men who would do anything to get ahead. Unfortunately, Claude is the only huge target left. Edelgard and Dimitri left, Seteth and Rhea left two hours into the party. First to arrive and first to leave, mused Byleth.

Byleth appears at Claude’s side in a matter of moments. One hand resting on his back, a comforting gesture. There’s a stretched smile on Claude’s face and cruel grins on the faces surrounding him. Byleth is quick in saying hi as she places Claude’s coat in his arms, cementing the fact that they were leaving and no one would be stopping them. Only one or two men tried to keep Claude longer but Byleth was quick to interject. Coats on and pulling him away from the crowd by the hand. When the doors of the building were closed behind them, they let out a breath.

There’s a shared look between the two of them, before they let out a small laugh. Byleth is the first to move from their spot at the door. Hand reaching in to her coat pocket and taking the keys out, waving them in the air.

“Ready to head home?” Byleth said.

“Couldn’t speak sweeter words for my ears to hear.” Claude said.

The drive home was nice, the music was just loud enough to drown out overwhelming thoughts. However, as Claude checks his phone looking at new emails a smirk appears on his lips.

“Good news, we have more shareholders because of our appearance tonight. I have a feeling there’ll be some more cameras following us around more than normal over the next couple weeks.” Claude said. “You ready for this?”

“I’m ready. The company will come out on top for the end of the year, just get ready for the speed bumps along your path.” Byleth replied. Claude let out a chuckle.

“We’ll defeat anything coming our way. I won’t let them win.” Claude said, knowing the year ahead of them will be difficult but he had Byleth by his side. What could go wrong?

[anothertimdrakestan]

Stop Talking And Kiss Me  -  Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 1.7

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“can i request 7 (no i'm not in love with him i like you idiot) and/or 8 (kiss me already) with jason? thank you!!”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I love this request! It’s super open so I hope I captured the energy you wanted to create in the studio today lmao. I went for the “will they won’t they” kinda thing because I like the idea of Jason thinking you like Tim but you really have been going after him for months. Jason is too cute I can’t Hope you enjoy!

“Hi. Yes Timothy the Luthor family comes in a week, no they won’t come earlier. No, I’m not calling anyone ‘again’ Tim shut up you’ll do fine we aren’t postpoining. Ok see you in 40 I’m going to another one of the finance meetings I know damn well you won’t be at” you tapped your earpiece, hanging up with your CEO. As the CFO you attended every meeting the higher-ups had about money, it way your job after all. Somehow being Tim’s right hand man meant making excuses to the board about his whereabouts and often his brother’s actions during meetings that were supposed to be money centric. Rushing to the meeting you felt a couple of the papers you were carrying fly off the top of your stack. Deciding they weren’t worth it you continued on not noticing the tall figure following closely behind you.

“Y/n! Hey! I got these uh - papers for you that you dropped” you skidded to a halt coming face to face with Jason Todd, currently the bane of your existence after his last social media storm where he vividly described a pornographic video he was hoping his following could find for him. The “Toddsters” always pulled through for Jason, to the Wayne Ent. board’s disgust. “Hey Todd, thanks.” you smiled up at him as he loomed over you. You really only knew him and Tim, obviously you were close with Tim but you were older than the teen-genius and so it was nice getting closer with Jason over the months. Months, this was because he used to never come in until a couple months ago when you requested he get brought in because you needed him to try to sell new W.E. tech to the “Toddsters”. After that he’d been coming in more frequently, sometimes he sat in on meetings with you and Tim, he was often bringing you and Tim lunch and the three of you would eat in your office while you prepared Tim for afternoon meetings.

Jason was surprisingly reliable. Occasionally you would ask him to bring you coffee or post a video of him asking his following for something, he always complied even if it took some coaxing from you, making promises to dinners together you assumed would never happen in return for W.E. paid promotions. He had grown on you, his goofy smile, aggressive finger guns, and occasionally dark and brooding persona was fascinating. You were constantly enamored by him, and since he’d been coming around the office way more you were beginning to fall for him. Tim knew since you two saw each other and was always trying to play matchmaker even though you both thought the other didn’t like the other, bringing you guys together was a task too difficult for the world’s second greatest detective so Tim just shipped the two of you quietly now. 

As Jason stacked you up with your papers he saw you could barely carry all of them. “Hey let me take these for you, anything for the princess of Wayne Ent” Jason took then out of your arms as you smirked at his nickname for you. He loved calling you princess, noting that Tim was the jester he never really asserted his own position. After an attempt at stopping the nickname it stuck, and you now answered to it happily, but only from Jason. Tim never tried it and when anyone else questioned it, either you or Jason just explained that it just fit. 

“Sure Jay but the board is gonna drag you into the meeting, it will be nice if you go! I’m sure we all want an explanation for your most recent social media activity” you poked his chest while he replied with a wink as he followed you into the meeting. You sat down as Jason dropped the papers on the meeting table with a thump. “Ah, Mr. Todd. Please we have just a few questions do join us” An older man looked up from his laptop, demanding Jason’s presence. Heaving a sigh he slumped into the chair next to you. 

As the second presenter for the meeting got up to walk you through slides at a turtle's pace you realized there was no sneaking out. Even though you were up to date on the company’s finances the rest of the room wasn’t and it was far too rude to leave. Looking over at Jason he had pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, rested his hand on his chin, and was asleep. You watched him draw in deep breaths and exhale, slightly blowing the corner of his hood with each breath, it was nothing short of adorable, but because this was a meeting you couldn’t snap a picture meaning you had to drink in every moment of cuteness. 

As the third presenter got up you considered faking a heart attack. Jason was awake now meaning you couldn’t steal anymore glances in his direction. Anytime you looked at him he was making a goofy face, winking at you, or trying to touch his tongue to his nose. Constantly concealing giggles, by the end of the third presentation your cheeks hurt from smiling. 

When the fourth presentation began you felt a little piece of paper poke your hand. Looking down you saw Jason trying to pass you a note like a fifth grader. Unwrapping his folding-job the note read: Y/n this is a boring meeting why do u go to these? You smiled, pulling a pencil from your bag you flipped the note over and wrote: because Tim makes me so he doesn’t fall asleep like you did. Jason smirked, tearing off a large piece of paper and writing: If you need to sleep you can rest on my shoulder. You scoffed looking at him as he gave his shoulder a little pat, grinning uncontrollably. You glared at him before deciding to shoot your mini shot: Flirting are we Todd? Your heart skipped a beat when a light blush appeared across his cheeks as he wrote: Not unless you’ll let me steal you from your boy toy Tim. Confused you looked at him replying: More like best friend Tim, I’m not a cougar idiot. 

Jason read the paper, his head snapping to you, blurting out in front of the whole board “wait you don’t like Tim!” You felt your own face redden when all heads turned to you. Quietly you mumbled “no I don’t like him” before grabbing the paper and finishing your thought: i like you idiot. Carefully sliding the paper to Jason, you cleared your throat. “Please continue Mr. Smith about the importance of gauging inflation” Willing yourself not to look at Jason you pretended to listen to the presentation while the rest of the board slowly lost interest in the little interruption. 

Deciding the coast was clear you glanced at Jason who was re-reading your note over and over again. He looked up, making direct eye contact with you, mouthing “I like you too princess” you couldn’t help but grin. His hand slip over, dropping the paper and grabbing your hand, pulling it below the table so as to not cause any drama. 

You gave presenter five no attention, too focussed on the fact that Jason Todd was holding your hand. Presenter five finished with a mini lecture to Jason on the importance of keeping his social media pg, he rolled his eyes but eventually nodded, effectively ending the meeting. You pulled your hand out of Jason’s and began organizing the papers you’d brought in as the rest of the board left the meeting room. As the last person left the room Jason practically ran to the door, shutting it quickly. 

Unable to process your excitement you began rambling “so uh, pretty eventful meeting huh? Did you hear anything the second guy said or -” Jason grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. “Stop talking and kiss me y/n” he mumbled, leaning it. As his lips caught yours you could feel him smiling into the kiss, his hands snaking around your waist and pulling you in closer. Pulling away you couldn’t stop smiling. “I think I’m gonna come to Tim’s work more often” Jason admitted, winking at you. You hummed as you moved the papers into the storage system, moving towards the door to leave. “Hey princess lemme get that!” Jason dashed to the door, opening it for you and grabbing your hand as you walked out the door. 

Walking past your company hand in hand with their CEO’s older brother was a lot. For everyone. You blushed as people stole glances in your direction. Jason led you to your office where Tim sat in your chair, feet propped up on your desk.  “Uh hey Timmy” you sheepishly laughed as Tim took in your situation. “Todd I told you she liked you. Same goes for you Y/N. I just can’t believe I lost the bet with Roy I thought you were gonna be pining for each other for at least another week. Dammit” Tim feigned anger but then admitted how happy he was for the two of you. Sitting down for lunch you were exhausted. Finishing your meal you leaned back in your chair, resting your eyes for a few minutes while Jason stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. 

As you slowly woke up you felt your head propped up against something. You realized it was Jason when he gave you a light shake saying “Y/N while I did say you could rest on my shoulder I didn’t think it would be for half an hour, my shoulder fell asleep!” Your few minutes of rest had turned into thirty, jolting up from your position against Jason you checked your calendar realizing you’d missed a meeting. “Relax princess Tim took the meeting, you really think I’d let you sleep through another business meeting?” you snorted “yes I know you would Todd”

“You really do know me too well princess”

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.7 - Young Yunichika

7. (COOL BUT WORST) PLAYMAKER

Translation Notes

1. The term used here, 球威, means “pitcher’s stuff”, which basically refers to how effective a pitch is at being the pitch it’s supposed to be

2. Refers to the popular myth/saying/action that writing the character for “person” on your hand and then pretending swallowing it will relieve stress

3. Some neat wordplay here. アタッカー並み means on par with an attacker, but 並みのアタッカー means average attacker

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He felt like he could see Haijima’s smug face painted on the raised set. It was after the opponent blocker fell for the decoy in front of the net and jumped. Kuroba jumped in from behind the decoy with a back-row attack. From the point of view of the opponent blocker, a new shadow suddenly shot out from above the decoy’s head. This was the combination they were best at, called a pipe attack, and it should have been already analyzed by the opponent, but it felt great to be given a face of astonishment that said, “How did you appear there!?” every time. This is the moment when I’m the coolest one on the court.

Haijima’s sets were completely different than his senpai setter’s sets from last year. Kuroba still couldn’t explain it in theory, but even though his senpai’s sets were a big arch that “went up and fell down,” Haijima’s sets “didn’t fall down.” The ball was thrown “straight” to the place where it could only be reached by stepping in the fastest, jumping the highest and swinging his arms at the highest point. If he didn’t stop it, it would just whoosh past him. In practice, he constantly missed the timing and missing the ball, which ended into arguments. While he became reckless everyday, desperate to stop the ball next time for sure—a strange phenomenon occurred today.

As long as he jumped and swung his arms with all strength, the ball would be there. The sets fitted into his hands so cleanly, like they were sticking to his hands, that there was not even a millimeter of deviation. All he had to do was to add power and hit it out with a nice feeling. He cut through the gaps in the opponents’ defense, who were unable to take a step, and landed after seizing the ball with his eyes until it pierced the court. “Yes!” he pumped his arm into the air, still on his knees.

“Yuni!”

“You were so cool!”

While his gathered teammates messed up his hair, he searched for Haijima. He caught a glimpse of Haijima, who was always on the outside of circles like these. Haijima smiled thinly and nodded.

The rotation moved once, and Kuroba came up to the front row right after he did a back-row attack in the back row. When Haijima went down from the front row to serve in exchange, they exchanged a low high-five as they passed each other.

July 26th. The first round of the boys’ volleyball division for the Prefectural Middle School Summer Games, taking place on the two courts of A and B in the Suzumu City Municipal Gymnasium. In the first game on Court A, Monshiro Middle already took the first set. For the second set, the other side came close in the middle of the game because of a disordered receive, but they didn’t allow them to form a comeback and extended a wide lead again to close out the set. It was a three-set match, so if they took this set, they would have a straight-set win.

Haijima moved back considerably in the service zone, almost to the wall, and got into the serve position. He put the ball in his left hand and extended his arm straight out in front of him. His narrow eyes were narrowed even more sharply and he stared at the other side of the net with a fixed gaze. For a moment, the stands that were cheering loudly fell deathly silent. Everyone held their breaths at the clear, intimidating something Haijima was clad in.

Taking just one second to lightly adjust his breathing, he tossed the ball up high without any perceivable jump and hit a powerful jump serve from a beautiful, textbook-like form. The gym became filled with cheers that bordered on roars once again.

But it was a bit too long. It’s out—Kuroba could see it in his eyes, but there was no time for the receiver to avoid it. The ball bounced up all the way to the ceiling with such tremendous power (1) that the receiver nearly fell over.

Ah——.

His body moved naturally before he could think about it, and he jumped. Above the net, he caught hold of the ball that returned directly and knocked it down to the opponent’s court.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Since sixteen schools participated in the first round, the passages behind the gym were crowded with players in jerseys of all sorts of colors, teachers, and management staff.

“Somehow while I was in a daze…”

“We won!”

“With a team of only eight people!”

“Yuni, you reacted well to that direct one.”

“Well, I guess. For some reason, I feel like I can see the ball really well today. Also, when I see the opponent’s faces, I somehow know what they’re gonna do.”

“What the hell’s that, that sounds cool. I’m falling for you!”

“We should have talked to the girls from class more. All I could hear was the moms’ voices.”

“Agh, I was switching the moms’ voices with the girls’ voices in my head, but you just dragged me back to reality!”

Having finished their match in good time, everyone was still in good spirits, and there was a constant stream of excited chatter. It seemed that the match that started at the same time in Court B was carried over to the third set, so muffled cheers and the sound of the ball bouncing could be heard. When he wondered why this extremely stupid conversation never ended, he realized that it was because Haijima wasn’t there to chop through the mood. He was supposed to be with them when they left the court, but…

Their advisor, who had said he was going to drop by the management headquarters, came back just then.

“Sensei, do you know where Haijima is?”

“He went back inside. The second match in Court A is about to start soon. He said that he’s going to go watch it since it’ll decide who we face in the second round.”

“Eh…He didn’t have to go alone.”

If it’s for our next opponent, then shouldn’t we all go scouting them out, not just Haijima? A tinge of dissatisfaction sprouted in his heart as he thought that he should have at least called out to them.

“Didn’t Haijima want to give you guys a break because he was worried? You’re fine now, but if you get too excited, you won’t enough energy for the second round.”

Haijima worried about them? It was a phenomenon that seemed like it wouldn’t happen even if the heavens and earth were turned upside-down. It was exactly a phenomenon. It was equal to a natural disaster that only happened once every few hundred million years or so.  

But, it was true that playing two games in one day was unfamiliar terrain for them. Although everyone seemed to be in good condition right now, it was hard to predict how tired they would be in the second game.

“But, you know, I knew Haijima had volleyball experience, but I didn’t expect him to be that good. Even when I stopped by the headquarters earlier, teachers from other schools kept coming up to me and asking who that player was.” 

“Hey, what about me? They didn’t ask about me?”

“Hmm? They didn’t.”

“Tch. My efforts always get overshadowed by Haijima.”

When he pouted and grumbled that, he was soothed with “You’ve got this from now on.”

“Keep this up for the second round. Don’t get too worked up about it and just have fun with everyone.”

He thought he was in good form and stood out quite a bit, but he guessed that Haijima’s skill was so outstanding that his own level wasn’t enough to leave an impression. He couldn’t believe that he was getting noticed by the volleyball team advisors from other schools, who was probably much more discerning than their own advisor.

“We’re gonna win”—Haijima was extremely confident, but at the same time, he was a realist. He never gave lenient assessments to himself or others, and he wasn’t the type of guy who would say soft and easy effort goals like “It would be nice if we could win.” He said that back then because he had a serious expectation that was possible.

He had a feeling now that it really might not be a dream if Haijima was there.

If they won four times, they won the championship. They had already cleared one match. Three more to go.

We can…reach it…?

I want to win, he thought. I want to win next time too. And after that. And then if we win after that—. When he heard it in June, he felt a lot of bewilderment, but now for the first time, he definitely wanted to win. His heart began to beat fast.

***

Right when they entered the venue since the time for the second round’s official practice was approaching, cheers similar to an angry roar rose up, and the entire team leaned back in the same direction despite themselves.

A horizontal banner—which wasn’t there in the first round—with the words “Monshiro Middle School Boys’ Volleyball Team” written with excessively good handwriting was hanging from the second-row bleachers. And next to that, there was a square flag with “Spread your wings! Kuroba UNIVERSE!”

His face turned hot.

“Wow. Yuni’s cheering squad is amazing.”

“It’s like we’re at Koshien.”

His teammates were more taken aback and put off rather than being jealous. Their parents formed a small cheering squad for the first round, but it was just a modest thing where they cheered for their children on the spot, with no bells and whistles or anything else. The huge cheering party that newly appeared completely swallowed that up, sounding their megaphones loudly and as for his relatives, they were shouting in voices that couldn’t be called refined.

“…That’s Grandpa’s writing.”

On a pure-white cloth, the words “Monshiro Middle School Boys’ Volleyball Team” were written in bold, stirring letters like a rampaging dragon in all black ink. Come to think of it, when he went out this morning, his mother was in a hurry making phone calls to here and there. It would have been better if his family had just come here modestly instead of taking the time to organize something like that and be late for the first round.

The other one, “Spread your wings! Kuroba UNIVERSE!”, had a black background and decorated with sparkly gold tinsel, and it was a lot more lowbrow than his grandfather’s single brush stroke. Right above where that deathly embarrassing flag—which he thought of as more like harassment—was hanging, he saw Itoko shouting into a huge megaphone. …If she had the time to prepare that, she could have come for the first round. You should have seen that really nice back-row attack in the first round.

Yorimichi…didn’t seem to have come. He couldn’t spot him as far as he could see. He was sure he would have heard that there was a game today through Itoko.  

“Oh, Haijima, your grandma came. I wonder if my mom also invited her.”

He tugged on Haijima’s uniform and whispered that into his ear. “Huh…” Haijima didn’t look all that happy as he looked up at the stands, straining his eyes as a wrinkle formed between his brows.

“Can’t see her.”

“Right there. She’s above ‘team.’”

“Even with contacts, my eyes aren’t as good as yours. It’s fine.”

He immediately gave up and returned his eyes to the court.

“Concentrate, Kuroba.”

He said in a low tone. He can see Haijima’s consciousness narrowing and condensing. As though saying that the world he needed only existed inside that nine-by-eighteen-meter court, he raised his awareness by shutting out outside gazes and cheers. He could feel that the power of his concentration that made his skin tingle just by being next to him.

“Y-Yeah. Got it.”

Kuroba responded vigorously with all his might, but even if he took his eyes off the stands, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being surrounded his relatives’ faces, faces, faces from 360 degrees.

The rotation started with Haijima on the right back as the server and Kuroba “diagonal” to him on the left front. The rotation was made so that Haijima, who was strong at serving, got to serve as much as possible, and either one of the tall Kuroba and Haijima was always in the front row. There were six people, so there were three pairs of players connected by diagonal lines, and one’s partner was called one’s “diagonal.” The diagonal relationship was always maintained even when the rotation moved. However, when he became absentminded, he sometimes lost track of his current position, which was quite confusing.

Back-row players weren’t allowed to jump up to block, and they could only spike by doing a back-row attack from behind the attack line (the line three meters from the net).

As though saying that victory went to the one who made the first move, Haijima smashed in a jump serve with all his might from the very beginning. A jump serve was hit with a lot of force, and consequently had a high risk of error. In practice games, Haijima used a low-risk jump float serve, but right when he wondered what he was going to do in the official match today, he was actively using a jump serve.

Regrettably, it went behind the end line and was out, giving their opponent their first point, but the air in the opposing court was frozen for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it!”

His teammates called out to him, but Haijima didn’t seem to care about the mistake in the first place and unashamedly responded lightly with one hand, staring over the net with a brazen expression as though that was his substitute for a greeting. Even though it didn’t result in a point, he had successfully planted the seed of fear in them that made them think, “What would happen if that had gone in?”—Their amount of experience was different by one or two orders of magnitude. And more than anything, the fearsomeness of Haijima was that he had such nerves of steel.

Haijima was making the game in a literal sense. As a setter, he didn’t just set up his teammates’ offensive, but also controlled the mood in the opponent’s court. He of course knew that the difference between their amounts of experience couldn’t be filled in overnight, but he felt strangely impatient.

He felt like it took an awfully long time for his own first serve order to come around. He impatiently waited for the rotation to move, and when he went down into the service zone and was about to receive the ball,

“…ba! Kuroba!”

Haijima’s voice burst into his ear, and he jumped. He was so out of it that he didn’t hear him, as though there was a membrane around his head. He looked and saw Haijima pointing to the right position of the front row with an unusually anxious look on his face.

The color drained out of his face. The rotation was wrong. He was in the front row for one more time. Nagato, who was in the original service order, was standing confused in a halfway place.

“S-sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault too. I thought I got it wrong when Yuni moved back…”

He talked to Nagato and hurried back to his defensive position. Haijima was about to go to him to say something, but the whistle prompting Nagato to serve sounded. The cheering squad was noisy in the stands, probably because they didn’t understand why the server was suddenly changed.

Something’s wrong…I can hear the voices from the stands well, but the voices on the court are distant. He almost felt like he was standing in the bleachers right now, not on the court.

He felt the rotation was moving quickly, contrary to earlier. His sense of time wasn’t stable. The wrong service order came around this time, and he ran to the serve zone and received the ball. He stood facing the net and took a deep breath to try to calm down, but couldn’t breathe in deeply.

Haijima’s first jump serve suddenly replayed in his mind. Kuroba also practiced the jump serve. He was getting able to hit the ball squarely more and more, and practice could be exhilarating sometimes. It would no doubt feel good to carry out that kind of thing successfully in a game. He would be able to show the cheering squad his good points, but of course his accuracy was not yet usable, so he made sure to do a jump float serve as usual…

Huh? Which foot do I usually step forward with? What’s the timing for the toss? What’s ‘usual’?

His usual way of doing things had completely slipped out of his mind.

Beep—.

The whistle sounded.

He didn’t immediately understand what the signal meant. Something was wrong. His own court was in a panic. After the referee showed the opposing team’s score, he made an “8” sign with his fingers.

An eight second violation!?

The spectators were buzzing once again about the point loss that was difficult to understand to the layman’s eye. If you didn’t serve within eight seconds after the whistle sounded, your opponent scored. It wasn’t like he didn’t hear the first whistle. And yet, he himself had absolutely no idea why he made such a basic mistake.

Haijima made a hand gesture towards the bench, and the advisor, who received it, hurriedly requested a timeout.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“You’re nervous, aren’t you.”

Haijima poked him above his heart with his fist. He didn’t seem angry, but he was definitely fed up. A series of careless mistakes that had nothing to do with the play itself.

“Do you have stage fright or something?”

“Ugh… I’ve never really been in a situation where I’ve gotten stage fright, so I don’t know.”

Was he nervous? He was aware that he was overly concerned with unnecessary things. During the first round, he was able to see the court so well and concentrate on his own task. He knew what he should do without thinking about it and his body moved. It was as if he was being made use of by being incorporated as a part of the organic matter that was the game Haijima finished weaving. He wasn’t displeased with that at all; rather, he felt euphoric. And yet, after they entered the second round, that feeling suddenly stopped, his field of vision abruptly narrowed, and only the voices in his mind increased.

Haijima sighed at him.

“Write down ‘people’ and swallow it.” (2)

“Can’t, can’t you give better advice?”

“I’ve never been nervous. I could tell you all about play, though.”

He felt like he was being shown the disparity between them again. “Can’t be helped, Yuni. If that many of my relatives came, I’d get nervous too. Don’t worry about mistakes.” Though everyone else encouraged him, the sigh Haijima alone had given him weighed heavily on him.

The thirty second timeout went by in the blink of an eye. In the end, he noisily dashed back to the court without putting his feelings in order.

Anyways, there was nothing to do but to recover from here. Right when he moved back to the rear, he immediately got a gesture for a pipe attack from Haijima. It was a fast back-row attack from the middle using the center’s A-quick as a decoy, which was the source of their points in the first round. The shocked face of the opposing blocker who was drawn in by the decoy and jumped at it when he jumped in from over the center’s head was so satisfying—.

“!?”

This time he kept blocking. The do-or-die expression of the opposing blocker appeared from the other side of the net that was like a towering wall, blocking the course. How—!? The ball crashed straight onto the block and was knocked down onto his own side. While falling on his behind from the excess momentum, words such as “What?” came out of his mouth.

As he let his mind wander for a moment and stared at the opposing court, where there were fervent roars, from beneath the net, his teammate was held out in front of him. After he borrowed that hand and stood up, he reflexively drew back his hand when he saw that it was Haijima.

“Sorry.”

An apology slipped out of his mouth. For what? Getting blocked? Drawing back his hand?

“It’s fine. There was no helping that. They’ve already guessed that you’re the only one who could hit it properly. We should have marked them thoroughly.”

Haijima seemed to have accepted the former’s apology. His eyes never left the opponent’s court, where they were exchanging high-fives and celebrating, and spoke quickly. If the only decent hitter was Kuroba, and he was marked for it…then what were they going to do?

Haijima gave him a sharp side glance. He looked fed up again.

“I told you not to let it show on your face… Shake off the guy blocking you as much as possible. However, don’t think you’re not being marked, stay calm and watch the block. I told you about straight and cross. They’re not at a level where you can’t get rid of them.”

Well, from Haijima’s level, middle school volleyball in a rural prefecture like this would seem like a piece of cake. The prefectural finals in a place like this was probably the same size as a subdivision preliminary in Tokyo. It was no consolation for him, as it only deepened his inferiority complex.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Haijima scattered his sets to other attackers, but Kuroba always had a block on him whether he hit or not. The opponent seemed to think that as long as Kuroba was suppressed, the rest of the team couldn’t hit too hard, so they could respond with receives. Unfortunately, it was an effective strategy.

Although the team was able to score some modest points with Haijima’s skillful direction, they still were unable to score consecutively due to the lack of a decisive blow. The seesaw game where stress accumulated continued. No, in terms of overall team morale, the flow was completely on the other side. There were more and more situations where the receives were so disordered that even Haijima had trouble covering them, and when he couldn’t get the set, the rest of the team couldn’t do anything.

Far from regaining his composure, Kuroba was experiencing the sensation of gears steadily becoming less and less aligned. Even though his mind was panicking, his body wouldn’t work together with it. It was like his head and body were doing on their own thing on this side and the other side of the court. While his spike success rate had decreased, moreover, at the beginning there were many times where he would slam the ball into a block and get shut-out, and it became noticeable that he was making the mistake of getting it caught in the net himself, let alone hitting the ball into the blocking.

“Just stop looking at the blocks. It’s better not to. Don’t think about avoiding them, just hit it where it’s easy to hit.”

Haijima pulled on his uniform and whispered that, but he was only extra confused by the change in instructions. Didn’t he say “Watch their blocks” earlier?

Did my jump power go down? Aren’t my legs getting tired? The instant he realized that this is what it was to play two games in a day, his body suddenly became heavy. Are my knees okay? Don’t I feel more burdened than usual? He suddenly started to worry about the growing pains that should have been unrelated to this. What if that thing that hurts so much I couldn’t sleep at night hits me during the match? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do——?

Haijima was saying something from his diagonal position to him. But he couldn’t hear his voice. He could probably hear him physically, but his heart was blocking his ears. Listening to Haijima’s just reasonings now was of no use whatsoever.

Do you, who's completely disconnected from nervousness or agitation, have the words that I want, the words that will help me? I don’t think so.

He didn’t remember at what point—Haijima turned away with a look of resignation on his face. Ah, if Haijima has given up, then this was already a complete loss, he thought.

For some reason, only a small click of his tongue and the word “useless” reached his ears without being cut off.

***

“Get in line, Yuni.”

It was only when Nagato called out to him that he realized that the game was over. A smattering of applause came down from the stands. When he absentmindedly looked at the score board that was still standing on the court, he saw that the set count was 2-0, and the winner—Monshiro Middle School.

…Wait, what? Did something…happen…? I have almost no memory of touching the ball…

Even when he looked over the faces of his teammates standing in a line along the end line, he didn’t actually feel like they had won at all. Were these really the faces of a winning team? The atmosphere was not as merry as it had been when they won the first round, and everyone looked somewhat apathetic and subdued. And maybe it was just his imagination, but the applause from the stands seemed like it was just done out of politeness.

When he was about to line up next to Haijima, who was standing there with his expression erased, he recalled it along with the flashbacks of some scenes—it was all Haijima's doing.

Haijima’s play changed after that tongue click and badmouthing.

The jump serve was of course incredible, but Haijima’s original domain was at the net. At the net, the control of the ball was not passed over to anyone—neither opponents nor even his own teammates. Rather than entrusting the set to the attacker, the cases where he hit the ball by himself by performing dumps increased dramatically. A dump was a surprise attack where the setter pretended to set the ball and returned it to the opponent’s court with their left hand, but the power of the dump released from the left hand of the ambidextrous Haijima was not confined to the level of a surprise attack. He smashed it into the opposing court with the same power as an attacker spiking with all of their strength. It should have temporarily made the opponents agitated and close the score gap considerably.

However, it was from there that Haijima showed his demon-like true power. When the opponent marked his dumps and started to block it, he switched from hitting hard to deliberately hitting the ball lightly at the head of the block where they jumped with power in preparation for a strong hit to make it drop to his own side. He pulled off the feat of getting down low to pick up the rebound that gently dropped down without a moment’s delay and swinging it to a nearby teammate with an underhand pass and the instructions “Give it to me!” This time, he used his right hand to smash the ball that was set to him by his panicking teammate into the opponent’s side.

The venue was stunned by the powerful spike that was on par with an attacker’s, or even stronger than an average attacker’s (3), and even the referee’s whistle was a beat late.

How was he able to do that…? It was technical, but more than that, what kind of nerves did he had that enabled him to play in a way that overturned the foundation of team sports like that in front of people?

To be honest, Haijima, you’re…disgusting.

When he heard “Thank you,” he hurriedly matched them in a small voice and bowed. For an instant, he felt as if the shadow of Haijima standing next to him broke out of its human shell and swelled up into a warped shape, and a shiver ran down his spine.

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[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 1.7 - Home Safe

The ride home was quiet. Dennis was driving, Barry was sitting in the passenger seat, and Kyle was in the back, slumped against the window, not quite sure whether he should be angry or terrified. Barry wasn’t quite sure what Dennis had in mind with this whole thing--was he really going to out the kid to his asshole father, just for wanting to get into a gay club? It seemed...cruel, but then, Dennis had always had a bit of a cruel streak in him. Barry had largely been able to avoid it, but his husband had never had much sympathy for gays who fell outside of the normal range of behavior that his rather conservative upbringing could tolerate. Assimilation or scorn were the choices, and Barry had chosen the first. He regretted it at times, but at least he was comfortable.

It took about half an hour to get out of the city and into the suburb where the three of them lived. It was an older subdivision, built in the early 90’s. The lots still had yards in the front and the back, rather than the strips of grass that passed for outdoor space in more modern construction, with your neighbor’s prying eyes six feet away from you next door. Barry expected him to drop Kyle off at his house, but they drove past it and arrived at their own, pulling into the driveway.

“So, do your parents know you were out tonight, or did you sneak out?”

“I...I told them I was over at a friend’s house for the evening. They don’t mind if I get back home late.”

“Look, I’m doing this for your own good, alright?” Dennis said, “I know that places like that seem fun, but trust me when I say, they’re dangerous--”

There was a light scoff that came from Barry at that, but Dennis ignored it, aside from a little pause.

“--Guys do a lot of drugs in places like that, and there are guys who will take advantage of you, alright?”

“I’m not a virgin, you know,” Kyle said, “I know what sex is, you don’t have to treat me like a kid.”

“You are a fucking kid though, and I know you don’t see that, but when you’re grown up, and have a job, you’ll understand that this was for the best, and I expect a thank you note when you get there.”

Kyle looked away at the window. “Are you gonna tell my dad?”

“It depends--”

“Of course we won’t.”

Dennis looked over at Barry, who was glaring at him from the passenger seat. “We’re not going to tell his dad, that’s fucking awful to even suggest it,” Barry said.

“Alright, I’m not going to tell your dad, this time, but you know what Kyle? You need to tell him. I know it’s scary, alright? My parents weren’t exactly the...most supportive people, of the lifestyle.”

“You didn’t come out to them until you were thirty, Dennis, stop making it sound like you’re some brave soul,” Barry said, and flipped around, “I don’t think there was anything wrong with you being there, I think you were right to get out of from under your parents thumb, and I don’t really think you should listen to Dennis on this one. Live your fucking life while you still can, alright Kyle? And if you go out again, and you get in trouble, then call us and we’ll come pick you up, alright?”

“Barry, that’s--”

“Let it go, Dennis, I think you got your little snitch high from this already, he’s scared enough. Go home Kyle.”

Sensing an opportunity to get away from this uncomfortable situation at last, Kyle nodded, thanked them for the ride home, and took off down the sidewalk at a quick stroll, leaving Barry and Dennis in the car, silent. Barry got out first, and went into the house, with Dennis following close behind. “Is there something you want to say to me?” he asked, “It seems like there’s something you’d like to talk about.”

“I can’t fucking believe you sometimes, you know that?” Barry said.

“What! He’s underage! He shouldn’t be in a place like that, and you know it.”

“Just because you were immature, and too scared to do anything fun when you were younger, doesn’t mean the rest of us weren’t willing to take a risk now and then. And threatening to out him to his father! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“He’ll have to tell him at some point, he might as well rip the bandaid off now.”

“Brave words from you. Why didn’t you tell your parents, huh?”

“That was different, and you know it.”

“Why weren’t you brave, Dennis? Just rip the bandaid off, you know, it’s easy!” Barry said, cooing at him. “We both know full well why you didn’t, and you were right to not tell them until when you did. And Kyle is right for not telling them too! Why the fuck are you like this? Why are you such a fucking hypocrite?”

“Excuse me?”

“You think you know exactly what’s best for everyone else, all the fucking time, and you dole out all of this mealy-mouthed advice, which everyone knows you would never do in a million years. You’re a fucking coward, Dennis, and you want everyone else to do the work so you don’t have to change.”

“It’s called being an adult, Barry, maybe you should try it sometime. You act like a child, you know that? You’re almost forty for fuck’s sake, why can’t you act like it? You have a good time tonight, pretending you’re a cool kid again? Make you feel better about getting turned down for that amazing promotion yet again?”

“You know damn well why I got turned down.”

“It’s not because you’re gay, Barry. It’s because you’re unserious. Because you’re immature. You think you can go out and party and still be treated like an adult, well at some point, you’re going to have to grow the fuck up.”

“I can’t fucking deal with you sometimes!”

“Well we both know you’ll never leave, because as much as you want to be a little party whore, you want the nice house and the respectable life more, and you’re lucky I’m willing to put up with your shit to give it to you. We both know who pays the fucking mortgage, after all.”

Barry gave up at that point--as soon as Dennis brought up the bills, he knew he’d lost. It was his husband’s favorite point of leverage. Barry made good money, but he didn’t make money like Dennis did, and as much as Barry might resent him for it, he did like it. He liked being taken care of, he liked the comfort. He went upstairs to the bedroom, Dennis stayed down in the living room after getting a beer out of the fridge--most likely, he’d end up sleeping on the couch, which is what usually happened after one of their arguments. Come morning, neither of them would apologize, and they would just move on with their life together, pasting over their frustrations again, and again, because usually, things were fine. Usually. Barry found himself peeling back layers, unable to help himself, wondering how many times you could cover something up before it just came apart anyway.

He got out of his clothes and into bed without a shower, closed his eyes and thought about that pounding bass on the dance floor again, thought about being swept away. Thought about how he’d been too scared to do it, too old. He was getting old, he was getting fucking old! He hated that, he hated how it felt like he had wasted his youth trying to be a good gay, trying to be a smart, clever, business gay, and now here he was, stuck in a job he hated, with the ladder rapidly getting pulled up away from him. He’d been passed over for a promotion again, for someone younger than him, a good little straight boy, twenty-eight, with a wife and a kid on the way. He knew the reasoning. He had a family to support, after all. But Barry didn’t want a family, Barry just wanted to be respected. He wanted his work to be seen and appreciated. He wanted the money too, of course. But why had he worked so hard, and missed so much, if all he got for it was a boring office job as he just kept getting older, and older, and older.

He got up again, dug around in the pocket of his pants, and pulled the card out Hugh had given him. None of what Hugh had told him seemed possible. None of it had even made sense. If he told Dennis about it he would scoff at the fantasy, but after the argument, that just made it more appealing. Mostly he was tired. Tired of things being safe, tired of being bored. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right? 

[freevoidkitty]

WORLD’S LITERATURE

SOUTHEAST ASIA         

  Southeast Asia or Southeastern Asia is the southeastern subregion of Asia, consisting of the regions that are geographically south of China, east of the Indian subcontinent and north-west of Australia. Southeast Asia is bordered to the north by East Asia, to the west by South Asia and the Bay of Bengal, to the east by Oceania and the Pacific Ocean, and to the south by Australia and the Indian Ocean. Apart from the British Indian Ocean Territory and two out of 26 atolls of Maldives in South Asia, Southeast Asia is the only other subregion of Asia that lies partly within the Southern Hemisphere. Southeast Asia covers about 4.5 million km2 (1.7 million mi2), which is 10.5% of Asia or 3% of Earth's total land area. Its total population is more than 655 million, about 8.5% of the world's population. It is the third most populous geographical region in Asia after South Asia and East Asia. The region is culturally and ethnically diverse, with hundreds of languages spoken by different ethnic groups. Ten countries in the region are members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), a regional organization established for economic, political, military, educational and cultural integration amongst its members.

The region, together with part of South Asia, was well known by Europeans as the East Indies or simply the Indies until the 20th century. Chinese sources referred the region as Nanyang ("南洋"), which literally means the "Southern Ocean". The mainland section of Southeast Asia was referred to as Indochina by European geographers due to its location between China and the Indian subcontinent and its having cultural influences from both neighboring regions. In the 20th century, however, the term became more restricted to territories of the former French Indochina (Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam). The maritime section of Southeast Asia is also known as the Malay Archipelago, a term derived from the European concept of a Malay race. Another term for Maritime Southeast Asia is Insulindia (Indian Islands), used to describe the region between Indochina and Australasia. The term "Southeast Asia" was first used in 1839 by American pastor Howard Malcolm in his book Travels in South-Eastern Asia. Malcolm only included the Mainland section and excluded the Maritime section in his definition of Southeast Asia.[13] The term was officially used in the midst of World War II by the Allies, through the formation of South East Asia Command (SEAC) in 1943.[14] SEAC popularised the use of the term "Southeast Asia," although what constituted Southeast Asia was not fixed; for example, SEAC excluded the Philippines and a large part of Indonesia while including Ceylon. However, by the late 1970s, a roughly standard usage of the term "Southeast Asia" and the territories it encompasses had emerged.

Ethnic groups of Southeast Asia

The Aslians and Negritos were believed as one of the earliest inhabitant in the region. They are genetically related to the Papuans in Eastern Indonesia, East Timor and Australian Aborigines. In modern times, the Javanese are the largest ethnic group in Southeast Asia, with more than 100 million people, mostly concentrated in Java, Indonesia. The second largest ethnic group in Southeast Asia is Vietnamese (Kinh people) with around 86 million population, mainly inhabiting in Vietnam, thus forming a significant minority in neighboring Cambodia and Laos. The Thais is also a significant ethnic group with around 59 million population forming the majority in Thailand. In Burma, the Burmese account for more than two-thirds of the ethnic stock in this country, with the Indo-Aryan Rohingya make up a significant minority in Rakhine State. Indonesia is clearly dominated by the Javanese and Sundanese ethnic groups, with hundreds of ethnic minorities inhabited the archipelago, including Madurese, Minangkabau, Bugis, Balinese, Dayak, Batak and Malays. While Malaysia is split between more than half Malays and one-quarter Chinese, and also Indian minority in the West Malaysia however Dayaks make up the majority in Sarawak and Kadazan-dusun makes up the majority in Sabah which are in the East Malaysia. The Malays are the majority in West Malaysia and Brunei, while they forming a significant minority in Indonesia, Southern Thailand, East Malaysia and Singapore. In city-state Singapore, Chinese are the majority, yet the city is a multicultural melting pot with Malays, Indians and Eurasian also called the island their home.The Chams form a significant minority in Central and South Vietnam, also in Central Cambodia. While the Khmers are the majority in Cambodia, and form a significant minority in Southern Vietnam and Thailand, the Hmong people are the minority in Vietnam, China and Laos.Within the Philippines, the Tagalog, Visayan (mainly Cebuanos, Warays and Hiligaynons), Ilocano, Bicolano, Moro (mainly Tausug, Maranao, and Maguindanao) and Central Luzon (mainly Kapampangan and Pangasinan) groups are significant.

Culture of Southeast Asia

The culture in Southeast Asia is very diverse: on mainland Southeast Asia, the culture is a mix of Burmese, Cambodian, Laotian and Thai (Indian) and Vietnamese (Chinese) cultures. While in Indonesia, the Philippines, Singapore and Malaysia the culture is a mix of indigenous Austronesian, Indian, Islamic, Western, and Chinese cultures. Also Brunei shows a strong influence from Arabia. Vietnam and Singapore show more Chinese influence[140] in that Singapore, although being geographically a Southeast Asian nation, is home to a large Chinese majority and Vietnam was in China's sphere of influence for much of its history. Indian influence in Singapore is only evident through the Tamil migrants,[141] which influenced, to some extent, the cuisine of Singapore. Throughout Vietnam's history, it has had no direct influence from India – only through contact with the Thai, Khmer and Cham peoples. Moreover, Vietnam is also categorized under the East Asian cultural sphere along with China, Korea, and Japan due to the large amount of Chinese influence embedded in their culture and lifestyle. 

ARTS in Southeast Asia

The arts of Southeast Asia have affinity with the arts of other areas. Dance in much of Southeast Asia includes movement of the hands as well as the feet, to express the dance's emotion and meaning of the story that the ballerina is going to tell the audience. Most of Southeast Asia introduced dance into their court; in particular, Cambodian royal ballet represented them in the early 7th century before the Khmer Empire, which was highly influenced by Indian Hinduism. Apsara Dance, famous for strong hand and feet movement, is a great example of Hindu symbolic dance.

MUSIC in Southeast Asia

Traditional music in Southeast Asia is as varied as its many ethnic and cultural divisions. Main styles of traditional music can be seen: Court music, folk music, music styles of smaller ethnic groups, and music influenced by genres outside the geographic region. Of the court and folk genres, Gong chime ensembles and orchestras make up the majority (the exception being lowland areas of Vietnam). Gamelan and Angklung orchestras from Indonesia, Piphat /Pinpeat ensembles of Thailand and Cambodia and the Kulintang ensembles of the southern Philippines, Borneo, Sulawesi and Timor are the three main distinct styles of musical genres that have influenced other traditional musical styles in the region. String instruments also are popular in the region. On 18 November 2010, UNESCO officially recognized angklung as a Masterpiece of Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity, and encourage Indonesian people and government to safeguard, transmit, promote performances and to encourage the craftsmanship of angklung making.

WRITING in Southeast Asia

The history of Southeast Asia has led to a wealth of different authors, from both within and without writing about the region. Originally, Indians were the ones who taught the native inhabitants about writing. This is shown through Brahmic forms of writing present in the region such as the Balinese script shown on split palm leaf called lontar. The antiquity of this form of writing extends before the invention of paper around the year 100 in China. Note each palm leaf section was only several lines, written longitudinally across the leaf, and bound by twine to the other sections. The outer portion was decorated. The alphabets of Southeast Asia tended to be abugidas, until the arrival of the Europeans, who used words that also ended in consonants, not just vowels. Other forms of official documents, which did not use paper, included Javanese copperplate scrolls. This material would have been more durable than paper in the tropical climate of Southeast Asia. In Malaysia, Brunei, and Singapore, the Malay language is now generally written in the Latin script. The same phenomenon is present in Indonesian, although different spelling standards are utilised  (e.g. 'Teksi' in Malay and 'Taksi' in Indonesian for the word 'Taxi'). The use of Chinese characters, in the past and present, is only evident in Vietnam and more recently, Singapore and Malaysia. The adoption of Chinese characters in Vietnam dates back to around 111 B.C., when it was occupied by the Chinese. A Vietnamese script called Chữ Nôm used modified Chinese characters to express the Vietnamese language. Both classical Chinese and Chữ Nôm were used up until the early 20th century. However, the use of the Chinese script has been in decline, especially in Singapore and Malaysia as the younger generations are in favour of the Latin Script.

EAST ASIA 

East Asia is the eastern region of Asia, which is defined in both geographical and ethno-cultural terms.The modern states of East Asia include China, Hong Kong, Japan, Macau, Mongolia, North Korea, South Korea, and Taiwan. The East Asian states of China, North Korea, South Korea and Taiwan are all unrecognized by at least one other East Asian state due to severe ongoing political tensions in the region, specifically the division of Korea and the political status of Taiwan. Hong Kong and Macau, two small coastal quasi-dependent territories located in the south of China, are officially highly autonomous but are under de jure Chinese sovereignty. North Asia borders East Asia's north, Southeast Asia the south, South Asia the southwest and Central Asia the west. To the east is the Pacific Ocean and to the southeast is Micronesia (a Pacific Ocean island group, classified as part of Oceania). Countries such as Singapore and Vietnam are also considered a part of the East Asian cultural sphere due to its cultural, religious, and ethnic similarities. 

East Asia was one of the cradles of world civilisation, with China developing its first civilizations at about the same time as Egypt, Babylonia and India. China stood out as a leading civilization for thousands of years, building great cities and developing various technologies which were to be unmatched in the West until centuries later. The Han and Tang dynasties in particular are regarded as the golden ages of Chinese civilization, during which China was not only strong militarily, but also saw the arts and sciences flourish in Chinese society. It was also during these periods that China exported much of its culture to its neighbors, and till this day, one can notice Chinese influences in the traditional cultures of Vietnam, Korea and Japan. Korea and Japan had historically been under the Chinese cultural sphere of influence, adopting the Chinese script, and incorporating Chinese religion and philosophy into their traditional culture. Nevertheless, both cultures retain many distinctive elements which make them unique in their own right.

EAST ASIAN ARTS

East Asian arts, the visual arts, performing arts, and music of China, Korea (North Korea and South Korea), and Japan. (The literature of this region is treated in separate articles on Chinese literature, Korean literature, and Japanese literature.) Some studies of East Asia also include the cultures of the Indochinese peninsula and adjoining islands, as well as Mongolia to the north. The logic of this occasional inclusion is based on a strict geographic definition as well as a recognition of common bonds forged through the acceptance of Buddhism by many of these cultures. China, Korea, and Japan, however, have been uniquely linked for several millennia by a common written language and by broad cultural and political connections that have ranged in spirit from the uncritically adorational to the contentious. 

SOUTH AND WEST ASIA

A region marked by social and cultural diversity, South and West Asia is also identified by its economic potential and growth. The region is valued for its supply of low cost goods, services and skilled labour to the global economy but at the same time, it is notorious for the payment of low wages, appalling working conditions and trafficking of labour. This changing economic landscape has had a corresponding impact on the social and geographic fabric of the region. Rural families are moving to cities and urbanization is creating mega cities with an increasing number of slums, poor sanitation and massive pollutions. Large infrastructure and development projects have led to increased forced evictions and displacement. India and Nepal are two of the highest ranking countries for child malnutrition in the world. In the Maldives, migrants represent almost one quarter of the population, creating major social challenges. 

Significantly, all nine members of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation have civilian democratic systems of governance, however in some, key institutions remain fragile, democratic cultures remain weak and the military retains a powerful role. The status of ratification of international human rights instruments shows a good commitment among South Asian countries to the universally recognized human rights norms and standards. This is however nuanced by the introduction of reservations and interpretative declarations and delays in reporting to treaty bodies. The absence of adequate and effective national protection systems to ensure accountability is a common issue across South Asian States where torture, ill-treatment, corruption and impunity remain major concerns. Although six countries in the region have established national institutions, only half of them maintain “A” status and there is no regional human rights mechanism. In addition, manifestations of socially and politically entrenched discrimination on the basis of ethnicity, religion, gender, caste and sexual preference have rendered certain groups vulnerable and disempowered. Women are assuming new economic and social roles but continue to face deeply rooted discrimination and violence.

ANGLO-AMERICA AND EUROPE

Anglo-America (also referred to as Anglo-Saxon America) most often refers to a region in the Americas in which English is a main language and British culture and the British Empire have had significant historical, ethnic, linguistic and cultural impact. Anglo-America is distinct from Latin America, a region of the Americas where Romance languages (Spanish, Portuguese and French) are prevalent. 

The Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections has considerable holdings in Anglo-American literature from the 17th century onward, with notable strengths in the 18th century, Romanticism, and the Victorian and modern periods. Among the seventeenth-century holdings is a complete set of the Shakespeare folios, and works by John Milton and his contemporaries. Eighteenth-century highlights include near comprehensive printed collections of Jonathan Swift and Alexander Pope, and substantial holdings on John Dryden, Samuel Johnson, Joseph Addison, Sir Richard Steele, William Cowper, Fanny Burney, and others. Related materials include complete runs of periodicals, such as the Spectator and the Tatler. The Division’s book holdings are also especially rich in the literature of the 19th and early 20th centuries. The Cornell Wordsworth Collection, the second largest Wordsworth collection in the world, documents the Romantic movement in detail. All the major “standard” authors of the Victorian and modern periods, such as Charles Dickens, George Eliot, T.S. Eliot, W.B. Yeats, Joseph Conrad, James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, et al., are well represented. In addition, the library’s holdings in Victorian fiction include scarce works by many popular women authors of the time, such as Elizabeth Gaskell, Maria Edgeworth, Marie Corelli, Ouida, and Helen Mathers. The collection also includes many popular literary genres such as gift annuals, dime novels, railroad novels, and yellowbacks, as well as the small literary magazine of the 1920s and 1930s. The modern collection features strong collections of manuscripts and books by George Bernard Shaw, Rudyard Kipling, Ford Madox Ford, Wyndham Lewis, and James Joyce. In support of RMC’s Human Sexuality Collection, the rare book collections feature especially strong representations of literary works by gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender writers, such as Oscar Wilde, Christopher Isherwood, Vita Sackville-West, Radclyffe Hall, E.M. Forster, W.H. Auden, Ronald Firbank, Edith Sitwell, Elizabeth Bowen, Jan Morris, and others. The collection’s strengths in more recent British literature include the works of Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, Philip Larkin, and Doris Lessing, to name just a few.

AFRICA

Africa is the world's second-largest and second-most populous continent, after Asia in both cases. At about 30.3 million km2 (11.7 million square miles) including adjacent islands, it covers 6% of Earth's total surface area and 20% of its land area. With 1.3 billion people as of 2018, it accounts for about 16% of the world's human population. Africa's population is the youngest amongst all the continents; the median age in 2012 was 19.7, when the worldwide median age was 30.4. Despite a wide range of natural resources, Africa is the least wealthy continent per capita, in part due to geographic impediments, legacies of European colonization in Africa and the Cold War,undemocratic rule and deleterious policies. Despite this low concentration of wealth, recent economic expansion and the large and young population make Africa an important economic market in the broader global context. 

Early human civilizations, such as Ancient Egypt and Phoenicia emerged in North Africa. Following a subsequent long and complex history of civilizations, migration and trade, Africa hosts a large diversity of ethnicities, cultures and languages. The last 400 years have witnessed an increasing European influence on the continent. Starting in the 16th century, this was driven by trade, including the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, which created large African diaspora populations in the Americas. In the late 19th century, European countries colonized almost all of Africa, extracting resources from the continent and exploiting local communities; most present states in Africa emerged from a process of decolonisation in the 20th century.

African literature, the body of traditional oral and written literatures in Afro-Asiatic and African languages together with works written by Africans in European languages. Traditional written literature, which is limited to a smaller geographic area than is oral literature, is most characteristic of those sub-Saharan cultures that have participated in the cultures of the Mediterranean. In particular, there are written literatures in both Hausa and Arabic, created by the scholars of what is now northern Nigeria, and the Somali people have produced a traditional written literature. There are also works written in Geʿez (Ethiopic) and Amharic, two of the languages of Ethiopia, which is the one part of Africa where Christianity has been practiced long enough to be considered traditional. Works written in European languages date primarily from the 20th century onward. The literature of South Africa in English and Afrikaans is also covered in a separate article, South African literature.

LATIN AMERICA

Latin America is a group of countries and dependencies in the Western Hemisphere where Romance languages such as Spanish, Portuguese, and French are predominantly spoken. Some subnational regions such as Quebec and parts of the United States where Romance languages are primarily spoken are not included due to the countries as a whole being a part of Anglo America (an exception to this is Puerto Rico, which is almost always included within the definition of Latin America despite being a territory of the United States). The term is broader than categories such as Hispanic America which specifically refers to Spanish-speaking countries or Ibero-America which specifically refers to both Spanish and Portuguese-speaking countries. The term is also more recent in origin. 

The term "Latin America" was first used in an 1856 conference with the title "Initiative of America. Idea for a Federal Congress of the Republics" (Iniciativa de la América. Idea de un Congreso Federal de las Repúblicas), by the Chilean politician Francisco Bilbao. The term was further popularised by French emperor Napoleon III's government in the 1860s as Amérique latine to justify France's military involvement in Mexico and try to include French-speaking territories in the Americas such as French Canada, French Louisiana, or French Guiana, in the larger group of countries where Spanish and Portuguese languages prevailed. 

Origins

There is no universal agreement on the origin of the term Latin America. Some historians[citation needed] believe that the term was created by geographers in the 16th century to refer to the parts of the New World colonized by Spain and Portugal, whose Romance languages derive from Latin. Others argue that the term arose in 1860s France during the reign of Napoleon III, as part of the attempt to create a French empire in the Americas.[11] The idea that a part of the Americas has a linguistic affinity with the Romance cultures as a whole can be traced back to the 1830s, in the writing of the French Saint-Simonian Michel Chevalier, who postulated that this part of the Americas was inhabited by people of a "Latin race", and that it could, therefore, ally itself with "Latin Europe", ultimately overlapping the Latin Church, in a struggle with "Teutonic Europe", "Anglo-Saxon America" and "Slavic Europe" 

In 1804, Haiti became the first Latin American nation to gain independence, following a violent slave revolt led by Toussaint L'ouverture on the French colony of Saint-Domingue. The victors abolished slavery. Haitian independence inspired independence movements in Spanish America. y the end of the eighteenth century, Spanish and Portuguese power waned on the global scene as other European powers took their place, notably Britain and France. Resentment grew among the majority of the population in Latin America over the restrictions imposed by the Spanish government, as well as the dominance of native Spaniards (Iberian-born Peninsulares) in the major social and political institutions. Napoleon's invasion of Spain in 1808 marked a turning point, compelling Criollo elites to form juntas that advocated independence. Also, the newly independent Haiti, the second oldest nation in the New World after the United States, further fueled the independence movement by inspiring the leaders of the movement, such as Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla of Mexico, Simón Bolívar of Venezuela and José de San Martín of Argentina, and by providing them with considerable munitions and troops.Fighting soon broke out between juntas and the Spanish colonial authorities, with initial victories for the advocates of independence. Eventually, these early movements were crushed by the royalist troops by 1810, including those of Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla in Mexico in the year 1810. Later on Francisco de Miranda in Venezuela by 1812. Under the leadership of a new generation of leaders, such as Simón Bolívar "The Liberator", José de San Martín of Argentina, and other Libertadores in South America, the independence movement regained strength, and by 1825, all Spanish America, except for Puerto Rico and Cuba, had gained independence from Spain. In the same year in Mexico, a military officer, Agustín de Iturbide, led a coalition of conservatives and liberals who created a constitutional monarchy, with Iturbide as emperor. This First Mexican Empire was short-lived, and was followed by the creation of a republic in 1823.

Latin American literature consists of the oral and written literature of Latin America in several languages, particularly in Spanish, Portuguese, and the indigenous languages of the Americas as well as literature of the United States written in the Spanish language. It rose to particular prominence globally during the second half of the 20th century, largely due to the international success of the style known as magical realism. As such, the region's literature is often associated solely with this style, with the 20th Century literary movement known as Latin American Boom, and with its most famous exponent, Gabriel García Márquez. Latin American literature has a rich and complex tradition of literary production that dates back many centuries.

by; MICHELL ANN C. CATALAN

[pleckthaniel]

Heather/Breeze Analysis Part I. Breezepelt

An unfortunate fact of the Warriors series is that, each book having only 60,000~ words to get through both character development for all three viewpoint characters as well as outside plot elements, side characters tend to be one- or two-note at best, with little to define them outside of a single trait and maybe an extra quirk thrown on for funsies, and they rarely develop very much as people. The relationships between these side characters tend to be even more poorly-developed, with a majority of relationships even in the POV Clans ultimately getting only a few paragraphs to sketch them out. Relationships between characters in other Clans are the worst off of all, often being chosen based solely on the age of the cats involved or worse, just entirely at random.

The exception to all of this is Heather/Breeze. Both Heathertail and Breezepelt are interesting and compelling characters, and their relationship is the result of character growth from them both. Despite relatively little screentime, it is well-defined and, unlike many other relationships in these books, they are actually attracted to one another for reasons other than ‘wow pretty’ or ‘the authors wanted more kits in this Clan.’ Although they are each flawed, and their relationship is clearly not perfect, they are well-matched and obviously care for one another deeply.

As a side note, before jumping into the actual post: for the purposes of this conversation, Breezepelt experienced, at the least, emotional abuse at the hands of his father. I have absolutely no interest in a conversation which seeks to quantify different types of abuse as ‘more’ or ‘less’ bad, and this is ultimately what most conversations about Breezepelt end up going. You obviously have a right to have a different opinion, but please don’t jump in on this post to share that opinion, as that is both irrelevant and rude.

Breezepelt is mainly defined in the series by his anger. The Warriors Wiki describes him like this:

(1.1, Warriors Wiki)

which I bring up because it’s just really funny to me that they found four different synonyms for ‘angry little man.’ Anyways, I’m not going to cite a bunch of different examples showing that Breezepelt is this way, because let’s be honest, we all know that he is. Instead, let’s talk about why he is the way that he is.

Breezepelt’s anger seems to stem primarily from a sense of injustice over his poor relationship with his dad. However you choose to read it, their relationship is obviously supposed to be read as really bad and is even used as an example of what kind of father-son relationship a cat doesn’t want to have. (1)

(1.2, Eclipse)

(1.3, Long Shadows)

Although Breezepaw can be quite rude in early PO3,

(1.4, The Sight)

he doesn’t really get his characteristic vindictiveness until much later, after the Three’s parentage is revealed.

(1.5, The Fourth Apprentice)

There’s a drastic change in his attitude & behavior there^. We can assume that it’s because of the revelation that he was born only because his dad wanted to prove his loyalty - although Breezepelt never manages to say as much outright, he dances around the idea:

(1.6, The Fourth Apprentice)

and it’s explicitly shown that this anger is manipulated by the Dark Forest into festering and becoming more violent

(1.7, Fading Echoes)

and eventually warping into a desire for revenge on all the Clans for allowing him to be hurt in the way he has.

(1.8, The Last Hope)

Despite his violent tendencies, however, he seems to have a moral line drawn in the sand against killing his Clanmates (apart from Crowfeather). In fact, when push comes to shove, he values WindClan lives over pursuing his angry impulses,

(1.9, Dark River)

even going so far as to defy the Dark Forest’s clear directive to treat other trainees like Clanmates so that he can threaten Ivypool when she permakills Antpelt:

(1.10, The Forgotten Warrior)

Which lines up with this line of his later on:

(1.11, Crowfeather’s Trial)

Despite his loyalty, Breezepelt also expresses a strong sense of isolation from his Clanmates.

(1.12, Outcast)

This loneliness is exacerbated by the revelation that he is in fact different from the rest of his Clan; he is quite literally an unwanted child, who was produced solely as a symbol of loyalty. This idea seems to torment him, as seen in his ‘surrounded by lies and hatred’ speech. And once he openly aligns himself with the Dark Forest, though he ends up recanting, the Clan’s rejection of him is set pretty firmly in stone.

(1.13, Crowfeather’s Trial)

His isolation seems to have its origins at least partially in a vicious cycle, as he tends to be quite rude, which both drives a wedge in his relationship with his peers and causes him, as an apprentice, to be scolded more regularly than them.

(1.14, The Sight)

(1.15, The Sight)

(1.16, Outcast)

Which in turn, makes him bitter about his different treatment and causes him to lash out. 

It should be noted that Breezepelt is only ever praised by a Clanmate once during PO3/OOTS, when Heatherpaw first introduces him to Lionpaw; (2)

(1.17, The Sight)

instead, a huge emphasis is placed on how often he’s chastised by WindClan cats, and especially by Crowfeather. Although we don’t get much insight into this, I think it’s safe to say that his father’s and Clanmates’ disapproval has left him insecure, with a poor self-image.

I would even argue that his arrogance is often not the result of an actual ego problem, but instead an attempt to cover up his insecurities; this is even semi-confirmed in Dark River when Jaypaw notices that he isn’t very confident in his boastful statement that leaving the tunnels will be easy.

(1.18, Dark River)

Overall, Breezepelt is generally ornery and rude because of his insecurities related to his father and his Clanmates’ treatment of him. Despite all this, he avoids harming his Clanmates and even puts himself in harm’s way to help them - though until much later, he has no such loyalty to his father. He also tends to feel miserably sorry for himself, and cover up those feelings with an arrogant facade. Although his violent tendencies and his anger toward his father and Clanmates all fade once he is no longer being manipulated and exploited by the Dark Forest, his standoffish nature remains, as does his blustering.

Footnotes:

(1) i don’t cite the night whispers scene where nightcloud claws crowfeather because, while that scene was definitely really important in establishing their family dynamic better, i’d argue it was a lot more important for night & crow than breeze

(2) this is still kind of a back-handed compliment, but we’ll get to heathertail in part two

[jeon-googi]

Star Crossed

— pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

 — genre: Fantasy, romance

 —Synopsis: Romeo and Juliet but make it Stray Kids

— words: 1.7

— rating: SFW-

— warnings: no warnings just a good ol balcony scene

— notes: I got enough interest that I am going to make this into a very short series! For the most part we are going to be following the original Romeo and Juliet storyline, but with added unexpected twists of course! Thank you guys for liking my work so far, any feedback is always appreciated and of course, this is not proof read because it never is!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

 The party continued well into the night and even until dawn creeped over the horizon. Soon after the activities that took place between you and Hyunjin, your nurse Irene swiftly took you back to your room. The cool night breeze wafted in from your balcony as you sighed, Irene’s hands combing therapeutically through your hair. 

“Chan looked quite handsome tonight.” Irene mused, watching your expression through the mirror. You nodded absentmindedly.

“He is handsome.” 

Irene watched you with a raised brow, “But you like the other boy correct?” 

You looked at her wide eyes, confirming her suspicion. “Did anyone see us?” 

Irene shook her head, “No, no one besides us servers. But you know we would never tell.” Some tension left your shoulders, but there was still a pounding in your chest. It was dangerous, what you did. He was a Montague, the only enemy of your family. You held hands with him, conversed with him.

You kissed him. 

You shook your head out as you felt the flames of embarrassment reach your face. You had to forget about him. You needed to forget about him. 

“Y/n…”

Irene's voice snapped you out of your trance as your eyes met hers. “I had never seen you so happy Y/n…” Her voice shook softly. Irene had been your maid and best friend since you both were young, her family had a long history of working for your own. She had been there for every marriage meeting, every date, every second of your life she stood by you. You sniffed as your eyes watered, your hands reaching for her own. 

“Irene I...I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know how I could see him again, yet in my heart I long for him-” as you unloaded your thoughts, a crash resounded from a corner of your room. Irene let out a gasp as you turned to find the cause of the noise. Under your desk, you could see the foreign object. Carefully, reaching your hand to grab it, you were surprised to find it was…

“A shoe?” Irene asked quizzically, leaning over your shoulder to look. 

“Who would throw a shoe…?” You asked looking up at Irene when your eyes spotted another object flying into the room.

“Irene move!” You yelled, shoving her to the side as yet another shoe landed a few feet from you. 

Now you were angry. Collecting the shoes you stomped to your balcony. 

“Some stupid guests must be so drunk out of their mind they would throw shoes into my room!-” You reached the edge of your balcony ready to throttle whoever was down there, when your eyes landed on the figure below. 

The breath left your lungs as you stared down at him. 

Hyunjin waved up to you sheepishly, running a hand nervously through his hair. 

“Sorry about the shoes. I needed to make sure it was you…”

Another boy emerged from the bushes nearby, an annoyed look on his face. “Great you found her Hyunjin, now Y/n if you would be so kind to throw me MY shoes back!” 

“Felix!” Hyunjin hissed glancing embarrassedly back up at you.

Watching the two, you couldn’t help but laugh. You nodded, “Right away Felix, thank you for donating to the cause.” Carefully, you dropped the pair into Felix’s awaiting hands. He seemed to be grumbling as he slid them back on, taking his leave. As he passed Hyunjin he placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Be careful.”

Hyunjin nodded as he turned back up to you, his smile growing wider. 

“I missed you.” He said, the honesty in his voice causing your heart to flutter. You turned away to cover your smile before returning his gaze.

“We barely know each other, what could you possibly miss about me?” You mused, leaning your head into the palm of your hand. 

“I missed our conversations. I missed your smile. I missed the way you looked at me after we made out in the elevator-”

“Shhhhh!” You hissed, glancing around to see if there was anyone else in the area. It seemed even Irene had left you two in privacy. Within the small confines of the courtyard below your room, it was just you and Hyunjin. 

“Come down.” He smiled, his arms reaching up towards you, making childish grabby hands. You tilted your head back in a laugh. 

“I can’t. The party is still going on. Someone will see me leave.”

Hyunjins smile only grew bigger, “Then I’ll climb to you.”

Before you could stop him, Hyunjin quickly approached the wall below your balcony, overgrown with vines. Grasping onto the cobbled rock, he slowly made his way closer to you, glancing up at you occasionally. Once his hand reached the rail, you quickly grabbed onto his forearm, helping him hoist himself up and onto the landing of your balcony. He stood before you, panting heavily, but his eyes locked onto your own. 

“I can’t believe you just scaled a wall to see me.” You smiled, entwining your hands in his. Hyunjin smiled as well, pulling you in closer.

“With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out.” He grinned, placing a hand on your cheek. You pushed yourself into his touch, rolling your eyes. “What does that even mean?”

Hyunjin shrugged, “Heard it in a movie once. Now-”. You gasped as he quickly gathered you in his arms, picking you up with ease as he placed you on the flat ledge of the balcony. He placed himself between your legs, his arms holding onto you tightly. You looked nervously at the distance from you to the ground, Hyunjin giving a small whistle to bring your attention back to him. 

“I want to know everything about you, Y/n Capulet.”

“Did you have to put me on the balcony though? We could’ve easily sat in my room-”

“Y/n you're ruining the moment.”

You both laughed gleefully, no longer caring if anyone heard. Your hands were placed gently around his neck, while his hands rubbed your lower back, making you feel more at ease. 

“If only you had another name. Or better yet if I were someone else.” You whispered, Hyunjins eyes scanning you carefully.

“I wish there were no Capulets or Montagues.” You admitted truthfully. “It’s only the name my family hates. It’s not like it’s your face, or arm, or anything else belonging to you. It’s just the name. Hyunjin Montague.” 

“Then I’ll be neither, if that pleases you.” Hyunjin whispered, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled your neck in the cool night air. Your hand absentmindedly ran through his locks as you shook your head. 

“Your name retains your perfection Hyunjin. I would never make you give it up. I just-” You sighed, your hand stopping. “If we could both just be someone else, I could then give you all of myself.”

Hyunjin seemed to tense beneath your touch, and you feared you perhaps startled him too much. Hyunjin pulled back so he could see your face, and you relaxed seeing the dopey grin on his face. 

“You would give me all of yourself?” He asked with a raised brow. 

“Whatever, forget what I said.” You smiled, pushing his chest playfully. He caught your hand within his own, holding it to his chest. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under his shirt and it made you smile, for at least you knew, he felt the same. 

“I would give up everything for you, Y/n.”

His gaze burned into your skin. How was it so easy for him to say these things? You nodded, looking to the side. 

“Somehow I know that’s true.”

Under the starry night, you and Hyunjin held each other close, whispering secrets and hopes between each other. The roar of the party was dulling down, and peaks of sunlight were beginning to stretch across the sky. You wished the night would continue forever, but you knew it wouldn’t be safe anymore for Hyunjin. 

“You should leave soon, Jisung likes to jog in the morning and I don’t want him to find you.” You whispered.

“I’m not scared of that squirrel.” Hyunjin admitted seriously, before breaking into a grin, placing gentle kisses on your face. 

“When will I get to see you again?” You asked, your hands wound in the ends of his shirt. 

“Soon my love.” He promised, placing a few more kisses on your neck. You shivered into his touch, wanting to pull him closer and closer to you. 

“If I catch Chan here again, I won’t be so nice to him.” You could feel his mischievous grin against your neck as you gave him a playful shove. 

“Be nice. The longer Chan sticks around, the less worry we have about them discovering us.”

Hyunjin didn’t seem to like your plan, but he knew it was true. Holding you close one last time, Hyunjin placed one soft kiss on your lips, holding your face gently. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

Gently lifting you off the rail and placing you back on the ground, he began his descent into the courtyard below, blowing you cheesy kisses the whole way out. You smiled, shaking your head at his antics, but in your head you caught every single one. The rays of dawn painted everything in a golden hue, the beams illuminating Hyunjins figure staring up at you from below. He looked utterly perfect in the light of dawn. With one final wave, Hyunjin disappeared from your property, leaving you feeling completely empty and all alone on your balcony. 

Hyunjin grinned as he took careful steps to the front of your property, blending himself in with the few groups just now leaving your family's party. The Montague property was deep in the city, and it took him quite a while to get there by foot. Safe within the confines of his home, he was happy to see his friends safe. Around a table in the living room stood  Felix, I.N, and Seungmin; but upon closer inspection, Hyunjins heart stopped. On the table were weapons. In fact, all of the weapons the Montague household had were laid out on the table. 

“Guys, what's going on?” Hyunjin asked nervously, approaching the table. Felix sighed, setting down the gun he was cleaning. 

“We’ve been challenged, Hyunjin.”

His blood ran cold. There was only one other household who would dare challenge the power of Montague. 

“We duel with Jisung, Chan, Changbin, and Lee Know of Capulet House at sunset.” 

[softschofield]

a bit of historical / military context for 1917

because it certainly added to my appreciation of the film to understand a little more of the background of a few of the lines :’) ♡

“the last time i was told the germans had gone, it didn’t end well”:

here, schofield is referring to the opening day of the somme on the 1st of july 1916, and, more specifically, the first day of the first battle of thiepval ridge.

in the week prior to the opening day, the british expeditionary force (BEF) let loose an artillery barrage on the german positions of some 1.7 million shells. the commander of the fourth army, general sir henry rawlinson, told his subordinate commanders: “nothing could exist at the conclusion of the bombardment in the area covered by it.” in short, the germans were supposed to be gone. so sure were the generals of utter success, a misguided feeling of complete calm optimism filtered down through the ranks - so much so that the infantry forces were instructed that there need be no hurry in getting across no man’s land and into the enemy trenches: there would be little to no resistance, as the germans and all their artillery and machine gun outposts would have been obliterated, and they could take it at a leisurely pace across the land that was hundreds of yards wide at some points.  

of course, within just a few minutes, the opening day turned into a catastrophic disaster. the artillery barrage had hardly touched the german defences and the majority of their troops had been sheltered safe and sound in deep underground bunkers for the entire week. the barbed wire had not been cut by the shelling as the generals had hoped; the land between the british and german lines was torn up by their own artillery and muddy from days of rain; and the germans were not gone. when the british mine at the hawthorn redoubt was blown at 07:20 rather than at 07:28, when the other mines along the front line were due to be detonated to begin the offensive, the germans were given a full ten minutes warning of the british attack and could set up their defences before the infantry had even gone over the top of their trenches. 

at 07:30, 2,000 officers blew their whistles all along the 12-mile stretch of front and the 65,000 soldiers of the first wave climbed out into no man’s land all at the same time and began their simultaneous advance in one, long line. when schofield climbed out of his trench, he would have started on the muddy, uphill climb towards the ruins of thiepval village, with tens upon tens of thousands of soldiers on either side of him and the men that he had gone through training with most likely among them - in relative silence at first, as the echoes of the whistles died away, but soon in roaring chaos, screaming confusion, and white-hot fear as the wire was discovered to be uncut, the germans were discovered to be very much alive, and the orderly advance fell into bewildered and terrified disarray. within seconds, it was slaughter. 65,000 soldiers died on that first day alone and over four million would become casualties in the following four months, making it one of the bloodiest battles in human history. 

all because, despite cheerful promises, prideful boasting, and empathetic assurances to the contrary, the germans were not gone.

“lieutenant leslie has command”: 

it really does need saying just what a vast degree of difference there is between a major being in command, as had been the case before leslie was forced to take over, and a lieutenant. the section of the yorks that were holding the front line was most likely a company, around 150 soldiers at full strength. a company was commanded by a major, with a captain as second-in-command, while a lieutenant was the second lowest ranking commissioned officer in the BEF, just above a second lieutenant. 

to put into perspective what a lieutenant’s role usually comprised, they were in command of one platoon each - around 50 soldiers - with a sergeant as their second-in-command, corporals in command of each of the three or four sections within the platoons, and lance corporals in command of the fire teams. platoons would have a small headquarters, and command of one was usually a newly commissioned officer’s first posting before they moved on to bigger and better things. it is therefore staggering, and truly upsetting in the context, that a lieutenant was put in a position where he was forced to take over in the place of a major, a full two ranks above him - and even more so that he was clearly left as the highest ranking officer in the company.

no wonder he was so overwhelmed - he was a relatively junior officer, already traumatised by war and most likely by losing all the men he may have been close to only two days ago, who had suddenly been handed the lives and wellbeing of a hundred men and told to care for and lead them. the burden of such sudden responsibility, of not being able to do or be enough for them, would have been too much to cope with for most anyone, and it’s little wonder he turned to alcohol to numb the fear and, perhaps, the insecurity.

“the germans are gone” / “i think they wanted to bury us”:

from february through to the 5th of april 1917 - 1 day before the beginning of the film - the german army initiated operation alberich and retreated back to a newly formed defensive position known as the siegfried position, or the hindenburg line to the BEF. it was built to shorten their stretch of held land by 30 miles and replace the former front line, which had been increasingly manned by insufficient numbers of physically and psychologically drained soldiers and which could no longer be held: their fighting force on the western front had been depleted and exhausted by the battle of the somme in 1916, the success of their offensives on the eastern front had forced them to stretch their resources across an even larger stretch of land, and the entrance of romania into the war had added even further strain. 

by wasting the land between their old trench systems and their new line, they hoped to delay an expected spring offensive by the british and french forces. to achieve this, they completely desolated the landscape, turning it into a bleak and devastated wasteland that would severely try the logistics and resources of the anglo-french advance, and render it unusable, uninhabitable, and often dangerous to even cross: they systematically destroyed bridges, buildings, roads, forests, and wells; booby-trapped buildings and objects that they thought might tempt a british soldier to pick up, such as trophy helmets, souvenirs, and food; and left the remains of barbed wire entanglements, deep shell holes and old trenches full of water, and unexploded artillery shells in the former battlefields. 

“the sap trench was blown to hell weeks ago”: 

sap trenches were temporary, shallow tunnels dug under no man’s land and towards enemy lines so close to the surface that when an offensive was launched, the attackers could collapse the tunnel roof, advance troops into a trench that was now far closer to the defenders than the latter were anticipating and way beyond the front line that now lay behind them, and go over the top with a much shorter distance to cover before they reached the enemy trenches. 

had they been better and more extensively used during the battle of the somme, they might have made all the difference to the soldiers who had to advance across no man’s land in full view of the germans watching from up above on the high ground. 

“at least wear your medal”:

it’s possible schofield was awarded a medal for gallantry at the somme - perhaps for having reached the village of thiepval itself, as a few advancing BEF troops were seen to have done (and which then ultimately resulted in even more carnage, as the no doubt terrified and bewildered soldiers entering the village and finding themselves alone and without the rest of their battalion inadvertently prompted the british artillery to direct fire away from the german defences in the village, thus leaving the troops still trapped down below open to even worse targeted machine gun fire) when most scarcely made it out of the trenches - but it’s perhaps more likely that he was simply awarded a medal for having participated in the battle.

bonus bit, because it breaks my heart:

it’s entirely possible that, with the air of optimism in the BEF prior to the first day of the somme, schofield, perhaps a fairly fresh recruit, was daring to feel hopeful. that he was smiling and laughing and believing that maybe it would actually work - maybe it would all be okay. and that, afterwards, he was left with his spirit destroyed. if schofield was a different person before the war - if he was happier, if he smiled more, if he softly but passionately loved books and poetry and flowers - then thiepval took it all away and turned him into the quiet, hollow-eyed man we know.

(and, to just copy-paste my own tags on an earlier post about the fact that he’s seemingly stagnated at lance corporal after so many months because it somewhat ties in:

have they tried to promote scho and he said no? has he just sunk into his silence and become almost invisible and forgotten? has he done something wrong and they won't promote him because of it? bad behaviour? did he go mad after thiepval and do that thing some soldiers in the trenches did where they just try to go over the top and get themselves killed? and they've been watching him distrustfully ever since in case he has another outburst? did he used to be a higher rank and they demoted him because of shellshock or a lapse in ability because he just went silent after his trauma? did he ask to be demoted? has he really just stagnated at lance corporal? there's so much DEPTH there. 

like i feel like someone can only be that... quiet and Given Up and distant if they’ve absolutely lost it at one point and then just accepted that there’s nothing they can do and crumpled into learned helplessness by the time we meet them. that’s my headcanon now: he lost it and was just unhinged and raging and screaming against the injustice of all his friends dying, and he was given an official warning and maybe demoted and eventually just faded into a silent nothing when he realised no one cared and no one would do anything and nothing would change. and now he’s been left with that incredible capacity for leadership, with all those skills, with all that caring, and nowhere for it to go)

[nrsranger]

1.7

Ord Mantell

Ord Utellian (pop 10,003)

The Mantellian Sepritist

1904 hrs

The Mantellian Sepritist was a large bar on the outskirts of the City of Ord Utellian, which served as the host city for the New Republic Fleet, it was a three walled establishment with a low brick fence extending out, then comprised the fourth wall leaving 12 meter by 12 meter section in the open air. The walls of the bar were decorated with art and artficats from the days of the Old Republic, Old Mantellian battle helmets, the most prized artifact was an Old Republic Trooper SpecForce armor from the famed Spec Ops Unit known as Havoc Squad. Several dozen tables sprinkled the large floor space. Currently all the tables and the bar space were filled out with uniformed officers from the New Republic Navy. The noise was kept to a modest level with occasional outbursts of laughter, that's what Dorman thought when he, Yarn and L.T Commander Maldoza walked in. The three of them crossed the room and found a table with five people gatherd around it. The Light Blue uniform identifyed them as pilots in the Star Fighter Corps. Glancing at the rank insignia on the shoulder and chest they were identified as three Squad leaders, a Flight L.T and the highest ranking officer, a Flight Captian. The moment Dorman saw the Squad leader insgnia he instantly snapped a salute, Yarn was a bit slower as he went to attention. Then men seated at the table turned toward the out of place display of promt millitary protocol.

“Who’s on watch at this table?” L.t Commander Maldoza demanded crisply

“I am” Flight Captian Alek Mauz said getting up and facing the two men and the Bothan as if they were in a standoff. “At ease Ensigns”

“Do I even need to ask?” Maldoza said all formalily and hostility dropping.

“I don’t know why you still do?” Alek said then added as they shook hands in a way only old friends can shake hands “These are my two new pilots?”

“Yes, they are, enjoy them!” L.T Commander Maldoza said “I have to go immedatly” he added

“Your not going to stay, Ralrost?” Alek siad

“I wish I could but things are in motion things that require my attention” Ralrost said “or is that to vuage” throwing a glace toward Dorman and Yarn

“Anything I should know about?” Alek said

“Not yet, but make sure none of your pilots are” Ralrost stammed a bit as if trying to remeber a coiloqual saying “K.O, we might have work tommorrow”

Alek starred into his friends face susspisouly, “yeah, sure thing” he said hessitently, but then continuing he said “Joker, get the L.T Commander somthing for the road!”

As Joker stood up and hopped over the bar “Does he want some Bothan concocktion or a cup of Jawa juice?”

“Careful! I’m the guy who can get you a date with every Todarian drag queen from here to Naboo” Ralrost said drawing “oooooOOOO’s” from the whole crowd

Tinged with a bit of embarssement but with a playful smile “It was one time! Howd you know about that?,” Joker said

“What can I say, I’m Bothan…..and the fact that you talk when your K.O’ed drunk” Ralrost said smiling ear to ear

“Well you just earned yourself a Bothan Protein Martini” Joker said as he assembled the drink.

Ralrost then felt a buzzing in his pocket and grabbed out his commlink, listened for a bit shut it down and looked up just as Joker was finishing with the drink and was looking for a to go container he found a hydro-cylinder took off the cap took a wif then made a face as he poured it out into the sink, he then refiled the container with Ralrost’s Bothan Protein Martini, he then put the cap back on. The bartender starred not caring, so long as he got paid he then shrugged his shoulders and went about his business.

“Alright Commander here you go” Joker said as he tossed it to Ralrost,

L.T Commander Maldoza caught it, thanked Joker and exited the bar in a rush.

“What was that all about?” Yarn said

“Ralrost Maldoza so so high in the Bothan interllignce network even I don’t know how much he is informed about, if he is worried, somthing is big is happening” the Flight L.T said

“Trippers right, Everyone lets go light on the drinks!” Alek said

The bar erupted in low grummbles put deep down they all knew that Maldoza information has saved their lives more time than they could count, and thats all the ones they knew off. Alek Mauz then turned his attention to the two new Ensigns that are now under his command

“So what are your names Ensigns?” Alek Mauz said

“Ensgin Yarn Belmic! Sir!”

“Ensign Dorman Tarn!,Sir!”

“Congratulations, Belmic your Firebird 11 your temparory Call Sign is 11, Tarn your Firebird 12 your temparory Call Sign is 12, now 11, 12 take a seat and lets make some introductions” Alek Mauz stood up and said “Fire Birds introduce your selfs to your new squad mates”

From behind them came “I’m Derci Alpine but you will refere to me as Joker, Squad leader, or the King of Naboo”

“Names Taus Maic I’m your new Flight L.T Callsigns Tripper” said one of the men sitting at the same table as them

“Call Sign Squid” Said a Quarren sitting at a circular table with three other pilots playing a friendly game of Sabbac with table snacks making up most of the winnings “but my name is Talllos Quarn”

The person the human to his right said in a deep voice “Mac Ran callsign Brawl”

The Sabbac dealer was a Rodian who said “Ives Derven, Sabbac”

The final person at the table was a human who said “Sir, Magnolian Vardeenios 5th lord to the thrown of Varlelos call sign Drip”

The next voice sat a table with three Rodians belonging to a Weequay “Call sign is Mob, thats all you need to know right now”

“Mash Ric Callsign Root” said a human sitting at the bar alone “thats Utapa Tarples grandson of the Great General Tarples from the Clone Wars, his Callsign is Gungan he dose not like to talk infront of most people” Mash said indicating a Gungan sitting on a chair leaning aginst the wall with his uniform cover covering his face appering to be taking a nap.

“This is Squad Leader of the Night Owls Natalia Gee callsign Vine” Alek said indicating the Theelin Female “This is the A-Wing Squad Leader Otis Tik or Noodles” indicting the two squad leaders sitting at their table “and last but not least my name is Flight Captian Alek Mauz, Callsign Firebird and I am your CAG” said the ageing man that gave them their call signs ”You probaly have alot of questions, and so long it does not interfere with the enjoyableness of the evening, you may ask”

“Umm ok,my first question is, what kinda Jedi esc stunt did you pull to get a whole X-Wing squadron named after you?” Yarn Belmic said

“Oh ho ho ho! Now thats a story!” Tripper exclaimed leaning in revealing how much he enjoyed telling this story “You don't know that your sitting in the mists of a galaxy wide celebrity, Alek Mauz is credited with the last confirmed kill of the Galactic Civil War”

“And the Call Sign Firebird?” Yarn said

“If you stick around for a while you might learn why” Alek said with a hint of reluctance.

“I have a question” Dorman said talking twoard Tripper “what did Commander Maldoza mean by asking whos on watch?”

“Now, that is a practice that dates back to the founding of the Rebellion, whenever the Rebels needed to blow off steam and went into a cantina or bar they would always pick out someone to be on watch incase Imperials came in or if any of his comrades wanted to pick a fight there would always be a sober man to break up the fight or to get his men out of there, when Captian Namin who was in the Rebelion from the early days was put in command of the Ranger he instituted this practice” Alek said

“And why are you always on watch?” Dorman asked

“Amoung my people, our gods have promised us in what we call the Palaidin Promise, that who ever swears off Alcohol, additicve substance, sexual relations, and who lives their life as moral as they can, they will be blessed by the Gods that we will be faster, stronger and better than our enemies.” Alek said slowly and cautioly as if this was something very important to him and he did not want anyone to misunderstand.

“This is all fascinating but Captain can we return to the topic at hand? I need to prepare my squad for the next threat” Noodles, the A-Wing Squad leader butted in impatiently.

“Yes, Yes as I explained before, both the First Order and the Resistnace pose threats to the New Republic, and we need to be prepared to deal with both of them” Alek said

“I don’t buy that Captain, the Resistance was formed as a result of the First Order making several threatening moves” said Vine The Y-Wing Squad leader

“Senator Organa only formed the Resistance as a result of a psychological need to fight someone somewhere and when she runs out of enemies who will she fight. I am just saying, look at our training exercise today, we went up against three light cruisers, one grand cruiser and several dozen fighter craft. The carrier jumped out when we destroyed most of the fighters who had 4 cruisers and fighter crafts?” Noodles said

“I met the Senator! she is not a person who is addicted to violence!” Vine exclaimed

“No, she does not seem like a violent person but look when the Empire fell she stayed in the fight to the very end until all the Remnants no matter how small were ratted out and crushed them. She has been fighting her whole life then when Alderan...um, blew up something snapped and she has been a loose cannon, fighting anyone who raised a blaster in her general direction.” Noodles said getting more heated as he’s speech went on

“Your beginning to sound like an Imperial, because Senator Organa has done nothing but sacrifice anything and everything to keep our galaxy safe and all your doing is complaining” Vine said getting just as heated

“No, no you miss understand me, Natalia. I am very grateful for what all she has done she sacrificed everything for the benefit of the Rebellion so that today I don't have to live in a tyrannical empire, but when there is finally peace, what would warriors do, they find another war to fight and when there are none, they start one” Noodles escalating his voice

“I don’t know but the First Order is clearly the bigger threat, and the Resistance is ill maned and ill equipped to take on the First Order or anyone for that matter” Vine said

“You won’t hear an argument from me on that one” Noodles said “But that won't stop them growing”

Yarn was following the conversation very closely but his concentration was interrupted as Joker walked back from the bar, grabbed a seat flipped it backwards and sat down resting his hands on the head rest and looked at Tripper, and Alek who at this point have stayed out of the conversation letting the The squad leaders duke it out verbally. At this point in the argument it turned to how the Resistance is “only made up of Old War Heros like Acbar and Organa, people with nowhere left to go and academy washouts”

This is where Yarn jumped in “I had a classmate in the Academy who got his first posting as an X-Wing pilot before deserting to the resistance” That was like throwing Coaxium off a clift as the argument turned into a three way argument with Noodles saying how the Resistance is a dangerous enemy causing desertion to fill their ranks with Military personal, Vine defended the Resistance recruitment practices by justifying how most of the Navy would leave to fight the real enemy and Yarn was somewhere in the middle.

“Oh Shut up and kiss already!!” Joker said over the clamor drawing the attention of a few other pilots. Noodles and Vine looked at Joker with a stare that could kill, then looked at eachother as they begian to laugh as they stood up faced eachother then boom! They were kissing, and kissing, and kissing either passionatly or viloently, drawing laugh cheers and whoops from the other pilots this went on for few minutes.

Trapper looked accross the table at Yarns face contorted in shock

“Oh, no we broke the new guy” Joker said

“Eleven?, Eleven? You there, Ord Mantel to Eleven come in Eleven” Tripper said waving his hand toward Yarn.

“Huh!!, WHAT THE CRIFT JUST HAPPEND” Yarn said in shock

Chuckling Joker said “Oh that? They have been together for the last few weeks, they argue like this just to throw us off their scent, but IT DIDN'T WORK” he directed the last portion toward the kissing couple.

“Hey, Hey it's Elvens first day here, let's not scare him too bad, ok?” Tripper said nugging Joker.

Throughout this whole ordeal Dorman sat back minding his own business and read the one book he always carried with him in his right thigh’s pants pocket

Alek noticed what Dorman was reading and with a roll of his eyes he realized just how much work his old Bothan friend cut out for him.

“What your reading there, Twelve?” Alek asked

“Just refreshing myself on whatThe New Republic StarFighter Regulation Manual says about improvisational combat plans” Dorman said

“Let me set a few things straight” Alek said then asked “let me see your book”

“Sure, “ Dorman said as he handed it to his Captian

“Look you see this book? Who wrote it?” Alek said displaying the front of the manuel

“Senator Trayis Malcor of Russan?” Dorman said puzzled

“Exactly, this book is useless! It is a military manuel written by a politician, a politician who does not even have a lick of military service” Alek said demeaningly

“Well, sir, uhhh” Dorman stammed

“Look Bookworm there is only one book that matters here in the field” Alek said slamming the manuel down reaching in and holding up a little black book that contained the names of people who should be notified in the event of his death or capture, it also contained personal notes and the last will and testament of Alek “Firebird” Mauz, every pilot filled out two, one he or she carried and one left in their lockers. “The only thing that matters” Alek continued is returning to the people who are in this book and making sure they never hear what I wrote inside it, the manuel only hinders that goal” Alek said with the most stearn voice anyone ever heard him use

A few seconds passed then “Joker?” Tripper said, shouting over low tumult of the crowd trying to lighten the increasingly darking mood “Did you hear that?”

“Yeaah, it sounds like a Callsign” Joker said, jumping on top of the table drawing all the pilot's attention.

“As your Squad leader” Joker said “and Flight L.T” Tripper joined, “we now crisan you Ensing-” they said together “what’s your name” Joker ask “Droman Tarn” Tarn filled in,

“We now Crisan you Ensign Dorman Bookworm Tarn!” they said together

“That's too on the nose Joker!” Root said “Get more creative!”

“Ok! Just Dorman Worm Tarn”

“But that’s my call sign!” Waldmir Vardom a Rodian A-Wing pilot said

“You're not making it easy, Worm!” Joker then said “Ok, ok fine If nobody else has any other exueses you are now Ensign Dorman Book Tarn!!!!”

No body interupted

“Alrighty” Tripper shouted “Let's give Book a Ranger Carrier Air Group Welcome!!!”

“WELCOME TO THE RANGER, BOOK” the whole bar erupted, even Noodles and Vine stopped kissing for a moment to join in the shout.

[zwiezraczek]

Criminal - Chapter 4

Billy (viliain) x Female reader (cop)

Prologue/Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4:  He is a sucker

SUMMARY: You always wanted to become a police officer. And you became one of them, brilliantly and they offered you your first case. “The Ghosts” case. The case of fleeting people and one sneaky bastard parkouring around the town to annoy you. You swore to yourself to catch him them.

WORDS: 1.7 k

NOTE: So here we are with chapter 4! I’m late, I knoooow, but yesterday I wasn’t in a mood to write so I hope you’ll forgive me! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter! 💕 Update: I had to reupload this again because it wasn’t showing up in the tags, it’s a thing that happens A LOT to me and it’s fecking frustrating so yeah... 

TAGLIST: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @natsficrecs​ (leave a comment to be a part of it!)

The place itself was awful. As you looked up you saw the old buildings, in ruin. The neighborhood he had chosen wouldn’t have been your first choice, for sure. But at the same time, a perfect place for exchanges with too much things to look at to find anything. You could smell insalubrity, you could feel it with every inch of your body, brushing against your skin. And even as a cop, you didn’t feel safe in this neighborhood. But, at the same time, you hoped that all of his would lead you somewhere.

You looked around you, ruins. Ruins everywhere. He had chosen a great place, really. A place where you were exposed and vulnerable, a place where he could take you down if he wanted to, but this experiment was wort the shot. Slowly, you walked between the bags and the dust, looking for the corner with a “4” graffiti on it, you found the graffiti on google maps while looking up the coordinates he had gave you in his letter. He knew what he was doing, really. The place was awful, just like him. Him and his cheekiness towards you. Him and his little games. Him. During the last few days, you found yourself thinking more about this solo investigation, his intercourse with the police, and about your own safety. Probably more about your job – and you losing it because of this.

You had worked so much for this position, proving them that it wasn’t because you looked cute and nice that you couldn’t do your work, and first you thought that your boss understood that by giving you this case. But apparently, he had hoped for you to quit as soon as possible. This case was your death sentence, and every move you made moved you closer to the brink. You put a finger on it now, after your big failure when your boss put the blame on you, and you only for this. He was partially right, because this was your idea, but he also was wrong because he could have denied you the troops and everything he had given you for this mission. And even if you found out that the transaction happening in the backroom was linked with one of the biggest companies of the city, your boss refused to acknowledge this as a step forward in your investigation. Of course, because looking up the corporations wasn’t your job apparently, and because dismantling a larger network wasn’t a bigger success than catching the Ghosts. Of course.

You sighed. After a few minutes, you found your corner, the corner Four assigned for your exchanges. The corner where you would become a phoenix or burn to ashes, depending on Four’s will. It was truly your last chance. And when you arrived right next to the walls, you tried to stay calm as you saw the little note he had left you.

“Cute cops are apparently rebel cops! ;)”

What a bastard.

~~~~

“You did what,” One exclaimed through the server Three created for them to speak without attracting cops, well at least for the moment. “I hope you’re joking Four, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“As if you could,” Four replied maybe too casually to be certain of that.

He had maybe screwed some things up by sending the letter to the cop on their case. But One wanted to congratulate her, he said, for this amazing trap she settled for them, and wanted to know who were the guys behind this informatics trick. And Four took it as a request. Well, he took it as a permit to send her a letter. But apparently it wasn’t a permit. And apparently he got himself into so much trouble.

“I’ll fucking kill him, somebody stop me,” One repeated and Four could hear the frustration. Oops.

“I won’t be the one stopping you,” Two stated as Four only gasped in a dramatic way. “I’ll help if you want.”

“What in the fucking world you thought when you did it,” One asked again, absolutely irritated.

“I thought it would be fun,” Four replied, a bit unsure. Then he heard Three’s chuckle. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, if not you we wouldn’t be in that situation!”

“I screwed up yes, I brought the cops yes, but now you made the cops follow us and seriously? That’s the greatest shit you’ve ever done Four,” Three laughed as One groaned.

“What’s the plan,” Seven asked.

“Guys, don’t you fucking see that I just helped us,” Four insisted, his fingertips taping on the desk.

“Fuck no, enlighten me,” One replied sarcastically.

“If I play it nicely, we’ll be able to gather information from her. We’ll be one step ahead and…”

“You sweet-talked her with bondage,” Seven remarked and Three laughed, “I’m sorry but you’re not our expert in flirt here. I’d rather send Five for the letters and the seducing part.”

“I can help with the letters if you want Four,” Five added in a warm tone, contrasting with the whole situation. She really tried to keep her calm. She really did.

“Guys I can fucking do it I’m not,” he stated before being interrupted – again.

“She doesn’t have to reply,” Two casually said. “He left her the choice. She can absolutely refuse to answer the letters and we won’t have any problem. Am I the only sane person in here?”

“She’s right,” On finally said in a calmer tone. “We keep our fingers crossed that she won’t leave you that letter in the dumpster you asked her to.”

“It’s not a dumps-.”

“It’s a fucking dumpster,” One retorted, “and if she’s sane enough she won’t go there. And if she does, you tell us. Simple. So, subject change until this case is solved. What about our partnership with the company?”

Four sighed. He really hoped that the cute cop would write back. Because he found it funny to tease cops like this, and she looked particularly receptive to this kind of little games:  she ultimately tried to follow a parkour expert well-knowing that he would be faster and smarter than her up there, nonetheless she had tried. And that was quite impressive. And reckless. And he loved recklessness.

Once the had call ended, he turned around to take a look at his crappy place. He wished they could all afford a better place to live in – well, he hoped that One would ultimately share the money they had – but for the moment, this apartment should be enough. He sighed and looked throught the window.

Every night since the last encounter with you, he went to the place in order to see if you replied, hoping secretly to be able to communicate with you. Every night, he took a different path to arrive there, he wandered from roof to roof in order to reach this place and to see, from above, if there was something new on the ground. He put the flashlight right on the dusty fallen fragments of the wall and saw this. He saw the letter. He felt his heart race, he felt a sort of excitement, happiness. An adrenaline rush.

“Dear Four,

Thank you for this letter, I will absolutely accept your offer so this is my reply to all of you.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what to write in this letter to all of you. I figured out that I probably should answer your questions first. I can’t say who helped me find you, that’s a secret as much as your identities are, am I right? And thanks for the congratulations, I deserved them and will deserve even more when I’ll catch you. Soon :)

I’m truly surprised that you wrote a letter to me, I hope it isn’t compromising at all for you – and probably your teammates. Don’t worry, nobody knows about our exchange, as you asked this is why I came there to put the letter in this dumpster. For a guy wanting bondage apparently, you seem to be more into… Trash from what I see on my computer screen. I’m not judging, just telling that I’m a bit disappointed.

Any requests? ;)

I hope hearing from you soon,

Lovebird aka the cute cop”

This. Is. Not. A. Dumpster.

~~~~

This little game of his was going on for weeks, and never seemed to stop. You tried to catch him off guard, but by letters all was too difficult. So, you decided to change your strategy: you had to see him and to keep him under surveillance as much as possible. After you left your letter, you waited a long moment before the sunset and you left, and then, you came back in the morning and the letter wasn’t there. You were sure of it now: he came during the night. Which was logical. But not reassuring at all, not for you.

And, as soon as you could – because you took a few days off – you began to patrol around the place at night, with a black hoodie on while walking fast, and even faster. As you walked, your eyes looking on the ground, you tried to blend in which wasn’t that simple with all these threats around you even when you carried a weapon. You wondered why a woman had to feel insecure at night, even when she was able to defend herself.

One night, after a few exchanged letters, a few coffees and some hours of patrolling you noticed him coming down from the roof, with his blue hoodie on. You saw the happy look on his face when he illuminated the place where you left your letter earlier on that day. You couldn’t help yourself but smirk. You caught your bird, but what he was doing right here wasn’t enough to arrest him by yourself, alone. You needed evidence, you needed proof and you needed to know where he lived.

[dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade]

Blue

Request: HERE A/N: I simply just love this so much and I think I speak on the behalf of all of us when I say I NEED A JOSH IN MY LIFE, OKAY THANK U. @onevisionliz​ this is for you and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) Comments and critiques are welcome. Word count: 1.7 K Warnings: a little bit of language, nothing too bad

Gif by @peacelovekiszka​, found here, on Tumblr. To be added to the permanent taglist, DM me or leave an ask!

Fanfiction Masterlist

You couldn’t believe that you had to spend another winter holiday in that town. You were so damn bored that you actually agreed to take the family’s dog for a walk in the freezing cold outside. It wasn’t that kind of cold with fluffy snow that gets your fingertips slightly itchy. It was the cold in which your nose was running all the time and your eyes were stinging, on the permanent verge of watering. It was actually kind of difficult to breathe without a scarf covering your face.

So you were fully armored, ready to go outside in the cold. You were worried about the poor dog, though. You were wearing a scarf, gloves, hat, winter jacket, but the dog? Only its fur. The owners – your best friend’s parents – assured you that the dog was a winter breed (Husky, to be more exact) and it was used to this cold, and even to worse conditions, so you didn’t need to worry about it.

You stepped out and a cold shiver ran through your body. The dog – Blue was his name (because of its marvelous blue eyes) – ran ahead of you, excited to go for a walk. Walking with Blue didn’t mean that you had him on a leash, only that you walked along with him. He has been trained this way. The owners only needed to make sure that he didn’t run away while on walks.

You felt your phone vibrate in the pocket of your jeans and you quickly pulled it out and took off one of your gloves to scan the fingerprint. You stopped in the middle of the frozen sidewalk to check the text message that you’ve received. You quickly shrugged it off though, considering it was from a group chat you were in.

Only ten seconds were enough for Blue to disappear from your sight. You looked to your left and right. “Blue!” you shout, hoping that he’d come back to you, but all the shouting was in vain. As an answer, you received only the defiant silence of the cold streets.

You ran down the street, following the faint paw prints in the frozen snow of a dirty white.

“Hey, have you seen a Husky running down this way by any chance?” you gasp for air as you finally meet the first soul on the street since you started the run after Blue. The cold air stung your throat and your lungs.

“Yeah, just ran here like thirty seconds ago,” the boy you asked answered you. “Better get him fast, he was following a cat.”

“God…” you moan angry at yourself for letting Blue out of your sight.

“There a problem?” asked another boy, peeking his head from behind the front door.  You looked at him and squinted your eyes. Seemed so familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Her dog is chasing a cat and she needs to catch it,” the boy from outside answered and put his long hair in a ponytail. “Baby brother, this is your time to shine. Go catch it,” he laughed at the one behind the door.

“Shut up. You’re younger by five minutes and as a matter of fact, I can catch him. Just wait and see,” the one inside answers, fixing the fluffy hair on his head. Before he could answer anything else, his eyes widened and sprinted in the street.

“I’m Jake by the way and he’s Josh. Likes to show off with anything he can,” the boy spoke, looking at his brother running on the cold streets, only in a t-shirt and something that looked like sweatpants.

“Josh…” you whisper to yourself and then it dawned on you. You met him that summer, at Coachella, at an after party and before the festival ended, you had spent every single evening with him. Your best friend got you there, thanks to the fact that she was very good friends with one of the brothers. You remembered then that they play in a band and that they are three brothers.

It was a warm summer night, with the stars shining bright on the pitch black sky. You and your best friend just managed to get to an after party, backstage at Coachella. She was greeting the four boys that got the passes for the two of you, while you waited in the corner, feeling kind of left out.

“Hey, I’m Josh,” one of the boys approached you and shook your hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you smile.

You couldn’t help but notice the fluffy hair on Josh’s head and the small pass around his neck which said in capital letters PERFORMER. GRETA VAN FLEET. ALL ACCESS.

“You’ve already played your set?”

“Yep, and now it’s time for some well-earned relaxation,” he laughed, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. You had to admit, his smile was contagious, making you smile as well.

You had spent all that night with Josh, until the sun was shyly rising over the desert filled with people having fun and partying. In the morning, Josh even came with you all the way to the bungalow you had rented with your friend for the whole period of the festival.

“See you in the evening honey,” Josh smiled with tired eyes. He approached you and planted a tiny and shy kiss on your cheek, before waving you goodbye.

That was only the first evening of the festival. In the days that came, you and Josh got considerably closer and you could feel the tension in the air between you. You fell for him, even though you proposed yourself not to, since you’d never meet again and you’d be heartbroken.

In the day before each of you went your separate ways, Josh kissed you as the sun came up on the sky.

“God, that dog of yours is fucking fast…” Josh panted as he walked back to the house with Blue next to him. Blue was wiggling his tail and looking at you with a “sorry” look on his face.

“Thank you, Josh,” you spoke and in that moment, on Josh’s face you could’ve seen at least 6 different emotions coming one after the other.

“Y/N?” he asked unsure. Jake was still there and with a little ooh, he left inside, leaving the two of you alone.

“Who would’ve guessed,” you shrugged with a dumb smile on your face. Your feelings for him only returned, even though you’d hoped that time would bury them away.

“So nice to see you here, but how come you’re here? Didn’t you say you’re from Ann Arbor?” surprise all over his face. “Fuck, sorry, sorry, come inside, it’s freezing outside and bring him with you.”

You looked at Blue and nodded. You were thankful for warmth of Josh’s place and for his invitations. Awkward tension was now between you, so you weren’t planning on staying too long.

Inside, Blue laid down on the wooden floor in the living room, while you were still standing in the doorway, taking off your scarf.

“Y/N, before anything else, I wanted to say that I didn’t know that you come around here, if I would, I would’ve asked you in summer to –“ Josh started but abruptly stopped.

“No, it’s alright, really. I don’t live in Frankenmuth, I just come here for the holidays with my friend and sometimes during summer,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to cover the tint of your cheeks.

“Come on, have a seat,” Josh motioned towards the couch. “Can I make you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Some hot chocolate?”

He was as sweet as you remembered. “Some coffee maybe, thank you.”

You join Josh into the kitchen, looking around the room. The whole place was so cozy.

“I would’ve asked you if you wanted to be together. It’s a little silly at first sight, you know, falling for somebody in a couple of days, but I feel like we’ve known each other for ages,” Josh sighed as he took out a cup from the cupboard.

In that moment, it felt like an old flame between you two has been lit up.

Josh put on the kettle, preparing two cups of coffee. You were silently looking at him, like trying to let all that information and all those old feelings with new opportunities sink in. Silence was between you the whole time while Josh prepared the coffee.

Once with the cup in your hands and Josh with his, Josh led the way to the living room, sitting on the couch and putting the cup on the small glass table in front of him. You followed his example and you just looked at him. He was really beautiful and the small part of his soul that you had the pleasure to see was just as beautiful.

“Can I?” Josh whispered, scooting closer to you.

You just hum affirmatively. Your eyes flutter closed in the moment Josh’s lips touched yours, as if telling you how much he missed having you with him.

After the kiss, you smiled, feeling happier than ever and hugged him tight.

“Won’t you stay for a little while?” Josh pleaded, holding your hand and kissing him.

You nod and text your friend, telling her that you’re going to come later home and that Blue is with you. In the instant you pressed send, you powered off your phone.

Josh spread on the couch a white blanket and he pulled you to his chest and covered the two of you with the blanket. He turned on Netflix and browsed for a movie, asking you for your opinion on whatever he found interesting.

“Dude, I wanted to watch Netflix,” his brother, Jake, protested from the stairs as he saw the two of you.

“Fuck off, go watch it on your phone,” Josh answered and put his tongue out. He was acting like a five year old, but you loved that.

You just cuddled closer to Josh, while playing with his hair and watching Netflix for the rest of the afternoon. You knew in that moment that you have found a special someone who was honest and who shared the same feelings for you as you did for him.

Tags: @myownparadise96​, @satans-helper​, @jeordinevankiszka​, @littlegeekwonder​, @songbirdkisses​, @pomegranatecurses​, @umbriellethenightfall​, @freeeshavacadoo​, @karrotkate​, @mountainofthesunn​