#but i don’t think her lines in either of her songs make her a poorly written character

[inkbirdie]

i think this might connect to why Penelope doesn’t say Odysseus’ name in WYFILWMA; she also is strongly identifying him as her husband or love rather than Odysseus (who committed all the terrible acts over the past 20 years). Odysseus may have changed, but her love has not.

I think the only time in the saga Odysseus’ name is spoken is in the background of Odysseus, like a boss battle (or Polyphemus). Odysseus is the monster, the boss. But at the end of the saga, he is a husband and a father again, which are the most important aspects of him

the betrayal i feel getting faked out thinking Penelope would rhyme “this”with “Odysseus” in The Challenge

(ex: “though I never thought that it would end like this/just know I’ll be here/Odysseus”)

it’s true that the suitors don’t call Odysseus by name, possibly Penelope and Telemachus haven’t either all the time he’s been gone

maybe she doesn’t want to be too hopeful by saying it :(

[janeyseymour]

Your Song

a sweet one shot based on Elton John's Your Song. Attached is my own version of it, if you wanted to give it a listen!

WC: ~1.95k

Melissa is sitting next to you as the two of you soak up the sun in the Summer morning. You both have your cups of coffee, waking up with the sun and the world around you, not quite used to sleeping in just yet. You have your guitar with you, and you’re strumming little tunes and fingerpicking different licks that feed your heart and your soul as she watches you in awe. And then something happens, and you begin to play a tune that you really haven’t played in a while. You sing it in earnest as your heart swells with love for the woman beside you. She has a gentle hand on your knee, and she squeezes it gently when you sing the first line of one of her favorite songs.

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside… I’m not one of those who can easily hide.

You remember when you first realized that you had feelings for the redhead who worked in the room next door to you. It was… unpredictable to say the least. And once you realized that, you did everything you could to hide those feelings for her. You were shocked that you were able to because well… you weren’t someone who could usually hide.

It took you months to confess your feelings to the redhead, when she was speaking of finally getting herself back out there, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Just one date with me,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Just one. And if it doesn’t work… it doesn’t work.”

She took you up on that offer, and here you were- three years later and married. You never thought you would get a chance with the absolutely stunning woman that was Melissa Schemmenti, but here the two of you were with shining diamonds on your fingers and the change in your last name to show for it. You haven’t been happier, and Melissa hasn’t been happier either- Barbara has attested to that too, so you know its the truth. 

I don’t have much money, but boy if I did- I’d buy a big house where we both could live.

As two teachers working in center city Philadelphia in an underfunded and poorly run school, you weren’t rolling in dough- even though the redheaded second grade teacher has been with the district for over two decades and has unofficial tenure.

But the two of you have spoken about moving out of your tiny little townhouse and upgrading to a big house. One where the two of you could live, and you think you might have convinced her at this point to have at least one child of her own.

“I mean… I would love to have a little Schemmenti running around,” you admit shyly as your curled up on the couch one night. You’re watching some movie where the main character is pregnant, and it makes you yearn for a child of your own.

“Y/N,” Melissa sighs as she looks at you. “I’m too old to have a baby.”

“But I’m not,” you tell her. “And… you’re so good with the kids at school, and I’ve seen the way that you go out of your way to make babies smile while we’re grocery shopping.”

Your wife purses her lips. “M-maybe. But I have to think on it.”

You give her your best puppy dog eyes.

“If we can get the money for a nice house and to afford IVF… I don’t think it’s off the table.”

You made her pinky swear that if you ever had the money and you were still at the age where you could bear a child, the two of you would go through with it. After that, you got a job at the local diner waitressing on Sundays. She hates it because it steals you from her, but she always comes in to visit you and keep you company. The money that you make immediately goes into a jar that has the words ‘Future’ written on it in your loopy handwriting.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do… You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue. Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen. Who are you kidding? You could never in a million years the beautiful shade of green that your wife’s eyes are. They were the first thing you noticed when you met her five years ago. She didn’t believe you when you told her that.

“Was it my boobs?” she chuckles on your third date. 

You roll your eyes. “Your eyes. They’re… mesmerizing. I saw the way that they sparkled when you were talking about your kids or someone you loved, and I was determined to make your sweet eyes sparkle like that… did I succeed?”

“I would say so,” she smirks as she leans in to kiss you.

“Good,” you mumble against her lips. “They’re gorgeous, you know.”

“My eyes?” the redhead practically swoons.

You see your opportunity, and you run with it. “No. Your boobs,” you deadpan.

She smacks you on the arm playfully, and you put your arms up in defense. “Hey! I was joking!”

Since meeting her, you’re positive that her eyes are the sweetest ones you’ve ever seen. They’re so… expressive. You can see in her beautiful eyes when she loves something or someone, and you consider yourself the luckiest woman alive to be able to get to see them every morning when you wake up.

And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done- I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.

You didn’t even really mean for this Elton John to turn into your song, but it did. You were just playing around on the guitar that she keeps in her classroom while you waited for her to finish up dismissal duty for the day.

If you’re being quite honest, you forgot that you even knew you could play that song until you heard it on the radio in her car this morning. So, after a few misfired chords, you begin to play and lay your voice over the simplistic yet stunning chords.

She comes in, ready to head out for the night, when she sees you sitting up on her counter, criss crossed and with the stringed instrument in hand. And then she hears your voice. And she can’t do anything but lean against the doorframe and listening to your soft and angelic voice.

When you fire out the last chord, she starts clapping softly from where she stands, and it startles you. You immediately turn red upon seeing her. 

"I didn’t know you play,” Melissa says softly as she comes in.

“I dabble,” you shrug as you put her guitar back where it lives.

She furrows her brows. “I wouldn’t call that dabbling. How long you been playing?”

“Since I was thirteen,” you shrug. “My dad taught me basic chords, and I just picked up the rest.”

“Well, you’re damn good. And I love that song.”

“I do too.”

“Play it again for me when we get to my place?” she asks as she grabs your bags.

You do, and she sits and watches, mesmerized.

“Those words are true, you know,” you say softly. “Life is wonderful now that you’re in the world… my world.”

She kisses you gently as she wraps her arms around your waist. “It’s like I see in technicolor now.”

If I was a sculptor, but then again, or a man who makes a position in a traveling show. I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do. My gift is my song, and this one’s for you.

“Do you ever think we would be better off if we weren’t teachers? Or at least one of us wasn’t?” you ask Melissa.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like… if I was a sculptor, or… someone who makes potions in a traveling show,” you sigh softly. “Like in our song… maybe then we could have a big wedding.”

Your fiancée rolls her eyes as she pauses making dinner to wrap her arms around you. “I think that we both love teaching, and I think that I love this little life of ours, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“I just… I know it’s not much,” you frown slightly. “We could be so much better off.”

“We’re doing the best that we can do, and that’s more than enough for me,” Melissa promises you as she kisses your cheek. 

“I know that’s what you say, but-”

“If you were a sculptor or a man who made potions in a traveling show, I would never see you,” she says softly. “Being on the same schedule is really nice.”

You smile a bit sadly. “I just wish that-”

“I don’t wish for anything else… we have a perfect life,” Melissa promises you. “Besides, you know I don’t want a big wedding- having just our Abbott family and our families.”

“A-are you sure?”

“As long as I have you, it’s enough,” the redhead kisses you softly.

And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done- I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.

Your big day has arrived, and as of an hour ago, you are officially Mrs. Y/N Schemmenti. After a simple ceremony in the courtyard at the school, the place that brought the two of you together in the first place, you move the ‘reception’ over to Barbara’s house.

Your wife had insisted on making all of the food for the party, and by some grace of God, the task at hand was completed last night. Barb spent this morning decorating and giving Gerald detailed instruction of how to lay it out so it was ready for when you all got to the Howard household before heading out to witness the two of you tie the knot.

When you get there, it’s beautiful- more beautiful than you had expected. There’s a stunning balloon arch, a garden of flowers, pictures of the two of you, and a few tables set up perfectly.

Your eyes well, as much as you will them not to. “How did we afford all of this?” you whisper to Melissa.

“We didn’t.” You look over at her, and her eyes are shining with tears too. “Barb?”

“The Abbott crew threw it together for our two favorite teachers,” the kindergarten teacher smiles. “Go on.”

Mr. Johnson announces the two of you in with the most sincerity that you’ve ever heard from him before he says softly, “And for your first dance…”

He hits play on the phone that is connected, and the familiar melody melts over your body as you pull your wife in close.

The Abbott clan and your families watch as the two of you sway back and forth, dancing together as a married couple for the first time. Barbara films it, tears of happiness falling down her cheeks.

“I hope you don’t mind… I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words… how wonderful life is, now you’re in the world,” you sing to her softly as she rests her head on your shoulder. 

Life has been strange up until this time in your life, and you’ve had your doubts about love and life before… but with Melissa Schemmenti by your side? Life is wonderful. 

[ninthhousedyke]

Arcane Season 2 Final Thoughts (Spoilers)

I adore this series. This series has single handedly filled a hole in my life for media that does everything I have ever wanted: hot women, complex villains, morally grey characters, dynamic and powerful worldbuilding, emotional moments that sit in my chest, animation too powerful to comprehend. I have loved and obsessed over this series for years and I am so sad to see it go. I have been introduced to the world of Runeterra and have fallen down the rabbit hole of League of Legends lore and I am so grateful to the series for introducing me to this new fandom.

That being said, I was let down by episodes 8 and 9 of season two. Episode 9 primarily. These are some thoughts I have based on my watch, but I want to make it clear that I have not rewatched in-depth just yet. These are all preliminary feelings that I had. Overall, I do not find that two poorly executed episodes tarnish the overall quality of this show, which did so much so well, but I do think that dropping the ball on these final episodes will leave a displeasing taste in my mouth about the series going forward. I know the writers were excited to move on to new areas in the world, and I’m excited to see what they do next as I am manifesting Riven in an upcoming Noxus show, but I think they lost sight of how best to wrap up what they were doing in Arcane.

Episode 7 was fantastic, no notes.

Episode 8 had many incredible moments and for the most part was fine. The ending scene with Viktor as the Twenty-One Pilots song plays was jaw-dropping!!! I have opinions on the CaitVi sex scene because I think it could have been done better, but I will write fanfiction about it and everything will be fine. No one wants my whole thesis on that skdhsgd.

I think when Jayce rallies Piltover and Zaun to fight against Viktor and Ambessa, there should have been more discussion on what Zaun gets in return for helping. I think this would have been a good moment for Sevika to get actual fucking lines and negotiate for independence as the price of Zaun’s aid. This would have made her becoming the de facto head of Zaun more explicitly understood, and would have paralleled when Jayce made the initial deal for independence with Silco in season 1.

Episode 9 was just weird. Viktor as the mage that saved Jayce as a kid? No. No that’s not what happened actually. Ekko using time travel but the time travel really not doing anything for the plot? How could you do that to my boy?? Viktor not being evil anymore by the power of homoerotic friendship? I’m sure the JayVik shippers are happy but that’s definitely not it. Maddie as a Noxus spy? Guys you killed her a second later, what was the point of that? We don’t even get an explanation as to what the fuck was up there.

In my opinion, Ambessa and Caitlyn should have had the chance to fight for real. Not when Caitlyn is injured and not with Mel assisting. A genuine duel between these two women in front of the crowd with stakes on the line (maybe Ambessa uses Vi’s life as a bargaining chip?). When Ambessa gets the upper hand and everything is about to go to shit, then Mel steps in and we get mage duel and the death of Ambessa. Followed by the realization Viktor has used this as the distraction to get inside the hex gates. Jayce and Viktor get their epic battle and Jayce kills him, with or without his own sacrifice. I think either option would have been good.

(Side note: full Machine Herald Viktor was jaw-dropping. They ate that shit up for real.)

Rather than Jinx “sacrificing herself” she could simply save Vi from Warwick and they both can mourn together the true loss of Vander. Jinx tells Vi she knows that together all they do is cause each other pain and maybe its best if they go their separate ways. They get a final sister hug and a promise to be there if the other ever needs it. Jinx leaves with Ekko (Timebomb shippers can be happy) and Vi returns to Caitlyn. We end with that beautiful speech from Caitlyn about the stories not being over and the image of everyone’s papers burning off into the sky.

Am I….gonna write an entire fix-it for the last two episodes? Oh God….I’m gonna write an entire fix-it for the last two episodes.

Alright yeah, those are my thoughts. I want to reiterate that this show means the world to me. My current WIP is shamelessly inspired by Arcane and I cannot thank this show enough for everything it has done for me. I think this is a solid 4.5/5 star series, and you can’t get everything right. I don’t blame the writer’s too much; they’re human too.

At the end of the day, this fandom will come together to do exactly what Arcane has told us to do: tell our own stories and make better futures for everyone.

[thisisntevenmyfinalblog]

I like Hazbin so far, but I do feel like we could’ve gotten a show with a lot more nuance and depth and less jokes about SA if it was written by someone other than Vivziepop, because let’s be honest… the best parts of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are fanmade or written by other people

For example, the song Addict is honestly one of the most iconic and popular songs related to Hazbin Hotel, but it’s a fan song.

The Helluva Boss Pilot was better than Hazbin Hotel’s Pilot (subjective) because it was actually written by someone else.

You can still like HH and HB just fine, I don’t care, but people keep defending Vivziepop like she’s this saint who has done no wrong, and attacking anyone who says anything critical abut her.

Anyways, Hazbin is okay. It’s kinda average, but it’s still enjoyable that I wanna keep watching. I love Sir Pentious, hate how he was treated in Episode 6, and hey, if I get sent death threats or smth I might as well say all my opinions right now so you all can get them out.

The writers don’t know how to write women like Vaggie or Cherri Bomb

Alastor is overrated and overhyped. He could use more personality, and more screentime doing ominous and tricky things, instead of just “shows up, says threatening line, refuses to elaborate, leaves”

People in heaven acting just as bad as people in Hell (like Adam) is not a good or unique take. Good Omens has done it, and they’ve also done it better. I did like that Adam leading the exterminations was something that not everyone knew about, but I don’t think Sera should’ve known about it either. Idk exactly, but I would’ve gone about it in a different way.

Bringing back the writing women thing, I also think Charlie’s writing can be handled a little poorly from time to time. The only thing keeping her afloat for me is that she is to Rapunzel what Hellsa is to Elsa.

I hate Mimzy’s design. I don’t know why.

Actually kinda liked Lucifer just being a weird dad, but he’s should have a better redemption arc before all that.

Not Hazbin Hotel specific, but why are shows so afraid of having more than 15 episodes in a season now? I know they want to cut out filler because they no longer need to run for a certain amount of time, but honestly? Hazbin Hotel needs more episodes. It needs more time to flesh out its story, and this honestly applies to a lot of other shows whose stories could’ve been great if not for streaming.

Stephanie Beatriz is a great actress so use her better. She did amazing as Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and Vaggie is… (no offense) just another of the badass Latina stereotype. Also, she is an amazing singer, but the super high octave in her and Carmine’s song did not do her voice any justice. It does not need to be that high, you can bring it down an octave or two.

I probably will have more complaints as more episodes come out. We’ll see. I still enjoy watching the show, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not perfect. Receiving criticism doesn’t mean it’s a terrible show, just that it has room for improvement.

If you read this far, thanks. I had to make a blog because I don’t have any other socials to say anything abt it on.

[ctrlemis]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

↳ ❝worst choreographer ever❞ (✷) — warnings. choreographer is extremely nitpicky to the girls, and is basically a bitch.

The seven girls, along with the seven members of enhypen, huffed and puffed as they finished dancing to the choreography for the third time without a break. They weren’t dancing with partners yet, simply marking out the choreo as they practiced. As they all tried to catch their breath, the main choreographer stood there with a clipboard in hand, accompanied by both a pen and marker. Behind her was a white board with most of the blocking either written or poorly drawn, much to the amusement of Ni-ki, Mickey, and Annalesa.

“You know what? I think I want Y/N to be the dancer for the first part of the chorus for the whole song.” The choreographer announced after watching the video of them dancing. It seemed as though the majority of them had questions about that, but it was silent in the practice room. The older woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Does anyone have questions?” Several hands went up at once. She pointed to Heeseung first, who had been majorly quiet for all current and previous practices, and had been almost a ghost.

“How are we going to block that when we haven’t even practiced or blocked the places for the dancer to be in the chorus in the first place?” He questioned, arms crossed. She signaled for her assistant, a younger girl who seemed to be struggling to keep up, to write his question down.

“Most likely, we’ll have the dancers in the same places for the pre-chorus, meaning that we’ll place Jungwon where Jake was for the first chorus for the second chorus, so that Mai and Y/N can get to the boys easier.” Even if she was strict, the choreographer went out of her way to actually use the girl’s names, and accommodate them in small ways. She pointed at Mai next.

“Would that not be asking a little much?” Mai asked, and added, “I mean, we already have to adjust to the dancing style of our dance partner to make sure we highlight and don’t outshine them, and all of the boys have different dance styles, so that would mean-” before Mai could actually finish her question, the choreographer shushed her, and the girl went silent, lips pressed into a thin line at the notion. She looked over, making eye contact with Y/N, and both girls knew they would be talking about that later.

“You all were scouted and hired because the company assumed you were the best candidates out of them all, and would be able to keep up. Miss Dinh, I would presume with your previous experience as a choreographer for many difficult choreographies, you would be able to keep up. Am I to be misled?” Mai grinded her teeth, shaking her head. The choreographer smiled, in that way that older women smile when they know they’ve won. “Then I advise you to do your best to do what you hired for, or else we will look for a replacement. Is that clear?” Mai nodded again, lips still pressed together. She looked over at Y/N again, eyes connecting as a message passed through them; We will most definitely be debriefing later. The choreographer looked over at Y/N’s raised hand, narrowed eyes as she tutted her chin.

“Actually i want to add on to what Mai originally asked. When i was contacted, as well as i’ll assume for the other girls, i was informed that i was told that i was specifically chosen to work with Yang Jungwon because of my skill and specific dance style, and excused me if it’s presumptuous of me to assume, but i would assume that it was the same for the other dancers. If so, what would be the case of having me work with both Jungwon and Jake if i was specifically scouted because my dance style was either similar to or able to accommodate Jungwon’s, and same for Mai with Jaeyun?” The choreographer’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, and when Y/N looked over to Mai, the girl had a small smile on her face, mouthing the words * ‘Thank You.’ She smiled warmly in return, and as she turned to look back at the choreographer, her eyes met Jungwon’s. The boy was in the process of lowering his hand; It seems that they apparently had the same question, or something along the lines of it. She looked away quickly, trying to ignore the heat rushing through her body. She added on, “I don’t mean to come off as disrespectful or ignorant, i understand that you as the choreographer are here to bring this song to life in a way that the boys are both comfortable with and that you see fit, and I don't mean to condescend you in any way. Nor do I have an issue with working with Jake, I simply wanted clarification on that.”

“I see.” The older woman said, looking Y/N up and down. “Again, I simply felt as though you would execute it well given your previous experience. I still want you to work with both of them on the first part of the chorus, so we will block that when we get there, as well as deal with any issues or tweak anything needed. No more questions right now, I want to block the pre-chorus with the boys and figure out where each dancer is gonna be, so I can place the boys correctly for the chorus.” She instructed. As they all moved, she called out once more. “And Miss L/N, while I recognize you have previous choreographing experience, I suggest any future concerns you and the other girls keep to yourselves.” She smiled as she said it. Y/N failed to respond, making eye contact with Mai once more. She walked over to where she originally was, waiting for the music to start.

“She is, by far, the worst choreographer I've worked for!” Mai exclaimed as she collapsed onto the couch, grabbing the pillow on it and screaming into it. Y/N dropped down in front of her, laying in front of the couch on the floor.

“We were specifically assigned to a member for a specific reason! It’s in the email! It’s in the contract!” Y/N agreed with her.

“To be fair, it’s the choreographer’s choices and decision to move someone if they feel fit.” Sora stated, dropping her bag. “And she cannot be the worst.” Mickey was the last inside, and took it upon herself to herself comfy on top of Mai, who screeched and tried(failing in the process) to shove the younger girl off, who wouldn’t budge.

“She’s most definitely something. But it’s the first few days and we’re all still adjusting. It will be fine tomorrow.” Keina Saed added. Mai sighed, admitting defeat against Mickey, much to the younger girl’s joy.

“All i have to say is Jungwon definitely has a staring problem.” Annalesa chimed in from the kitchen table, scrolling on her phone. Y/N looked up from the floor, eyes trained on Annalesa. The youngest didn’t seem to notice, munching on Caelin’s shrimp chips, which the older girl snatched out of her grasp.

“Hm?” Y/N asked, trying to sound nonchalant. That’s when Annalesa looked up from her phone, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at Y/N.

“Well, he was staring at you for the majority of the practice.”

“I don’t think there was a moment his eyes ever left you.” Caelin chimed in, joining Mickey in using Mai as a chair. Mai seemed to give up her protests, now listening to the conversation with closed eyes. Keina Saed nodded from the other side of the coffee table, eyes focused on her ipad as she played Doors.

“That’s….” Y/N had started speaking, but her voice had faltered. She was only aware of the small glances he made at her, but staring? She shook it off, trying to ignore the sudden heat that found itself manifesting in her hands. It didn’t matter if he was staring at her. She was mildly embarrassed to admit that she had looked at him far longer than professionally needed. She cleared her throat. “...Surprising.”

“I think it’s cute.” Sora said. “I mean- does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Er, not really? I just don’t want his fans to find out, don’t wanna end up in one of those edits with the song ‘All because i liked a boy.’ Great song, just don’t want the things in said song to actually happen.” Y/N sighed, and there was a mumbled chorus of agreement.

“We already know we’re gonna get hate for this as is. Last thing I need is people in my comments saying shit like, ‘Sunghoon doesn’t want you!’ Yeah, he’s too busy drooling over Jay, it’s Jake who actually wants me, get with the program.” Keina Saed sighed mockingly, shaking her head and erupting a tired laugh from Mai, who seemed to be half-asleep underneath Caelin and Mickey.

“In all seriousness, I don't think the Jungwon thing will be an issue. He’s very mature for his age, and very career-oriented. I’m sure he has enough sense to focus on the comeback and not on how pretty Y/N is.”

“Hold on, everyone stop.” The choreographer ordered, stopping the music in the background. All fourteen of them stopped moving. The choreographer walked past each of them, eyes narrowed and hand clasped around the clipboard tightly. She stopped in front of Keina Saed.

“Is there a delayed version of the song playing in your head that is causing you to be a beat behind everyone else?” She asked with that same sugary sweet smile. Keina Saed furrowed her brows at the older women. She opened her mouth to speak, but the woman continued. “Your moves look messy and incomplete.”

“That’s not true.” Annalesa interrupted with a frown. “ She’s going at the same pace as everyone else, and she’s synced up with her member, as are the rest of us. Her moves are probably the cleanest out of everyone here.” The choreographer turned to her with a sneer, but quickly replaced it with a smile.

“With all due respect, i am a highly trained professional-”

“As am i.” Annalesa interrupted again, frown deepening. The choreographer stayed smiling, but her first was clenched.

“-And i think that if i say someone is behind a step or offbeat or even a second behind their partner, it is because i deem it so.” She said, her voice unusually high pitched. None of the members said anything, looking between the two.

“Respectfully, you also seem to hyperfocus on our so called mistakes when, with all due respect, i’ve watched Heeseung and Jake bump into each other twice this time around, but this is the fifth time in this set that you’ve pointed out some sort of flaw or issue with us.” Sora piped in. The choreographer looked over to her, her smile wearing thin now.

“Excuse me.” She said walking to the front of everyone, turning to them. “Girls, the reason I am ‘hyperfocusing’ on mistakes that you all are making is because fans are not going to care if they are behind, they are going to care if you are, and if any of you are, they will rip all of you to shreds. Now, I was under the impression that none of you have worked together before, but this seemingly newfound sisterhood is refreshing for all of you, I'm sure, but I question your professionalism.” And as she said all of that, her thin tight grin never left her face.

“Excuse me.” Caelin cleared her throat. “I can’t help but think you’re being overcritical on us-” Whatever point the brunette was attempting to make was cut off.

“Then maybe it’s best if you don’t think at all.” The older woman said plainly.

“I think we should take our break now.” Jungwon spoke up. He seemed stoic, staring at the woman rather blankly. She gripped her clipboard tighter.

“I disagree, and because I am in charge here we will continue practicing until I say so.”

“And as the leader, I see it best that everyone takes a break.” He stated coldly. “If you have an issue with that, I seriously suggest you take it up with our manager.” They seemed to be having a staring contest, and Jungwon’s eyes never left her, boring into her soul until she cleared her throat.

“I think I will.” She said, her smile finally gone. “And while I am gone, you all are permitted a break.” She walked off, and it was only when she was surely out of sight that everyone physically deflected. Like always, the girls went to one side and the boys went to another. Keina Saed slid down the wall, leaning against Sora with her head on the older girl’s shoulder.

“She’s just picking on us now.” Mai grumbled, sitting in front of Keina Saed and Sora. Caelin sat next to her, shoulder brushing against each other as the girl sat down. The other girls sat on either side of them, forming a semi-circle around Keina Saed and Sora.

“Maybe it was unprofessional to say all of that, but I have truly never worked with an idol choreographer who has acted like that, and I feel that it was the right thing to do.” Sora added as she rubbed Keina Saed’s shoulder.

“You guys really didn’t have to do that for me.” Keina Saed murmured, followed by a chorus of disagreement.

“Doesn’t matter, we did and whatever happens, we did the right thing.” Mickey protested.

Jungwon stared from the other side of the practice room, eyes trained on Y/N’s back. It was only when Jake smacked him on the back of his head that he snapped out of it. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde, rubbing the back of his head.

“Staring problem.” Sunoo had answered before he had even asked, and he pouted.

“I don’t get why we’re all the way over here and they’re all the way over there.” He grumbled. Heeseung and Sunoo both stared at him like he was insane. Jake on the other hand laughed at him. Great.

“Probably because they don’t have to? They probably don’t want an issue with the company, and even if they didn’t, they are well within their rights to sit over there.” Jake teased, and Jungwon swatted at him.

“Come on guys, be nice to him.” Riki insisted, and Jungwon nodded. “We all know he wants to sit near them because he thinks Y/N is cute.” Jungwon narrowed his eyes at the younger boy, who bursted out laughing with Sunoo.

“Y/N, I’m not completely sure,” Sora started, looking behind her. “But Jungwon is staring again.” Mai covered her mouth to suppress her laugh.

“I guess he in fact does not have enough sense to focus on the comeback and not on how pretty Y/N is.” Caelin said. Y/N shook her head, using her hand to hide the smile on her face.

“Or there’s something on my back.” Mickey leaned behind, looking at her back before sitting up, shaking her head. Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t get why he’s staring.”

“And why is Jake not looking at Kei.” Sora added, for the aforementioned girl to sigh exasperatedly.

“That’s what i’m saying!” She exclaimed. “Bro, I even found a pink shirt with a golden retriever on it and he hasn’t asked to marry me yet! The nerve.” Her words caused the girls to fall out giggling.

SYNOPSIS. L/N Y/N knows that beyond all else, she must stay professional. She knew that her job and dreams of being a main choreographer for a company was more important then any silly little feelings that seemed to be rather persistent in her brain. She was almost relieved to find out Dark Blood promotions were finished, until she was emailed a contract, along with the notice that she, as well as the other dancers, would be appearing alongside ENHYPEN during their second world tour. Fantastic.

NOTES. is the choreographer probably a bigger bitch then accurate? idek tbh this is for plot and is fictional, none of this is from experience or real guys 😣

prev. m.list. next.

TAGLIST. @flwrshee @lockburn-castle @en-dazed

PERM TAGLIST. @yujipg @soobin-chois @haerinz @hiqhkey @bigtoewinwin @enhacolor @abdiitcryy @hseungi @seungstarss @strwberrydinosaur @buhniii @luhvlyuna @simeonswhore @maiverie @boyfhee

[allamericanb-tch]

marauders as eliza mclamb songs

** i limited myself to the ones she has on soundcloud because i did not want to go through her entire tiktok page to find links for all of her old songs sorry im a lazy queen.

pretend my explanations are not convoluted and poorly worded

the playlist of songs mentioned please go listen to it (with the marauders in mind !! ) i am obsessed with eliza mclamb currently. i tried to use every song on this playlist since i couldn’t use every song on her tiktok but i did skip some so. sorry? also the lyrics are just the ones i thought were the most them. i did not type out every single lyric to all these songs im not a MANIAC

james — look at me and lie / “daddy issues”

genuinely this song makes me tear up every time. it’s so jegulus from james pov coded which i think is absolutely devastating. in my mind this song is james thinking about regulus, knowing he has the mark, and regulus is wasting away knowing that he can’t be with james anymore, unknowing that james knows he has the mark. ugh it just breaks my heart every time.

i fucking hate when you look at me and lie // but i see it in your eyes you haven’t given up anything, except maybe the last three years of your life

—

jegulus 💔

i know i remind you of the life you couldn’t live, you make that pretty clear when you lose your shit weirdly i like that side of you better. // to see you angry is more fulfilling than the apathy

———

remus — wendy’s parking lot / autopilot / dial tone 

cigarettes i mean this is literally remus. but in all seriousness, this song is so remus feeling alone, very first and second year of him, before he really got on with the marauders.

smoke a single cigarette out the window // i want to go driving till i run out of gas, speed till i pass everybody in a baby blue subaru with their 401k’s // i don’t have anyone to cry to

—

remus trying to live his life after sirius leaves

doctor said i need routine // it’s time to drive around aimlessly and listen to music that used to make me cry, i wish it still did // i miss the feeling of feeling something

—

remus calling grant after sirius leaves

who can i call? // you don’t have to say anything at all // just stay on the line, to know somebody’s out there will do me fine

———

sirius — 2007 / haunted house

this song is sirius thinking about his time with regulus before hogwarts, and regulus idolizing his older brother and wanting to be just like him, and they grow up and grow apart, but really they’re scarily similar and sirius knows it and hates it because he hates himself.

you were still a baby, of course you’ll always be my little lady, but then you were freed // god, you’re turning into me // i want to hold your little face just look at you and say, ‘it’s not as good as it seems’ // it never gets better than being a kid with a dream

— 

this is sirius returning to his apartment he has with remus after he escapes azkaban

i swear this house is haunted, i can’t be here without wanting to go back ten years and do it all again. // i just can’t make myself fit back into place

———

peter — speak

this is peter being quiet and shy and following james around like a lost puppy dog because james has always been his only friend, and he couldn’t bear to lose him, so he goes along with everything james does.

i never could talk loud enough so i learned how to listen. // i find my place in other people’s shadows. // i wait for you to ask me, ‘how is it you forgot how to speak?’

———

mary — pornstar tits / anti-cinematic

this song is so mary being oversexualized by the fandom, and only used as a device to further the plot of wolfstar fics by being a rival love interest for sirius.

they trade that shit like pokémon cards, swapping my body with somebody else’s // it’s either jezebel or madonna and i’m not sure which one is worse

—

this i think is mary leaving the wizarding world, and losing all her friends (..because they died) and trying to go back to life as a muggle

what if my best years are behind me? // what if i just keep getting older and lonelier?

———

lily — elastic band / american wasteland

this song reminds me of lily reminiscing on her life before she found about wizards and magic and became involved in the war, and knowing she can’t go back to the life she once had.

so many memories i can’t recover existing in only a feeling // sometimes if i think real hard its like i’m there again // i’ll think i’ll stay in this moment for a while

—

american lily evans. there i said it. but this song actually feels more petunia to me. petunia after lily leaves, feeling out of place without her built in best friend.

two kids in a double wide // take the city bus home // get off at the next stop and walk the rest of the way home in the dark

———

marlene — twin flame

marlene and dorcas, dorcas and marlene.

i can read your mind like you can read mine // do i like you, or do i like that you’re fucked up like me?

———

regulus — hydroplaning

this is regulus being in love with james, and being so deep into his self-hatred that he can’t even fathom why someone like james would like someone like him.

something about you liking me just doesn’t sit right with me i think it probably means you have bad taste. // and then of course i’ll whine about how no one could ever love me.

———

evan — drunk in a fancy shower

evan at a party feeling out of place because party is drunk kissing other girls, and not drunk kissing him. poor evan :(

it’s so clear that i really don’t belong here // is it so cynical to think that no one would give a shit if i crawled out this window? // i need to get the fuck up, get back out there fill my cup up

———

barty — zoned out

this is so barty losing his mind slowly after evan’s death

i came back into my body to find somebody else in it // i hate that i can’t listen to you over the sound of my heartbeat // sometimes i just have to leave

———

pandora — witching hour / all alone

pandora is very much the kind of person who would find comfort in being alone in the middle of the night, and being awake while the world is asleep.

it must be the witching hour if i’m awake // it’s like the universe has picked me up, i’m a tiny baby in her cosmic cup. // i’m not scared of the unknown

—

pandora being self aware and knowing that people think she’s weird and creepy but knowing she is on the right path for her <3

all alone, in my little world. if it’s a one man universe i’m my favorite girl. // ‘you’re all alone, well aren’t you wasting time?’ no i’m just taking mine. 

———

dorcas — dreamgirl

dorcas being dorcas

i wanna be your dean girl // i like the version of me that lives in your mind // i’m still a mystery to you

———

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

The Darkling

Okay so this guy is the main bad guy of the series. He made “the fold” this barren wasteland of darkness and monsters dividing the land, causing like hundreds of thousands of people to die. He killed his mom. He psychologically manipulated his girlfriend (like, he caused her to hallucinate and a whole bunch of other crazy stuff). He made one of his followers (a young girl) use her body to slowly poison the king over time. He started a cult. He did a LOT of crazy stuff. However, we do see his backstory of him as a kid, and learn that he did all this in the name of equality, so people would stop torturing and killing the ‘grisha’ or the witches/magic users. Later, he fakes his own death and starts a cult worshipping him and acts as the leader of the cult, going by his old name Aleksander. He is a very complicated character. So tell my why everyone thirsts after him and is like “he did nothing wrong” HELLO?! He is NOT your poor little meow meow he is complies please please don’t sanitize him.

Mikoto Kayano

Mikoto is really kind and friendly, he gives people nicknames, and he tries to talk to everyone. He cares about his little sister and his mom; he doesn't want to worry anyone and will hide when he's really stressed out and try to act like everything is fine. He just laughs and hopes everything will work out. He overworks himself and thinks that he needs to keep working, even after he's already pushing himself too hard. He doesn't remember killing anyone and he's in MILGRAM because of it and he got voted to not be forgiven in the first trial which is making his stress worse.

Mikoto's characterization within the fandom is either sexy man or baby who couod never hurt a fly. Despite that in his introductory voice drama he folds a fifteen year old for several minutes abd the fact that he's now in a mystical prisoner for definitely committing murder. Like the entire premise of the series is contingent upon everyone who is in it killing a person. Mikoto has dissociative identity disorder the fandom uses this to basically go normal Mikoto the one Milgram arrested (the prison that can look into people's minds by the way) is the good one. He hates violence and I'd just a silly little office worker but the other one I'd the literal devil. An evil man who likes violence and just hates people real antisocial. The fandom is so bad at understanding moral ambiguity and dissociative identity disorder that despite his songs being called MeMe, Double, a line in the second song being literally "Just the two of us" and one of the creators puting out a statement after the seconds songs release saying "I wonder what will happen to the two Mikoto's now"- A good majority of fans have convinced themselves there is a third very normal and chill alter (because they seperate them by emotional states like this is fucking inside out for some reason) who is just a guy and consistently state Mikoto will be bad representation if there are only two. It's to the point that a good deal of the fanbase are fans of this character and not actually Mikoto. Only using his actual character for ship fodder to fuel their switch fetish. I don't know if it's not understanding moral ambiguity, just not knowing how to fucking read, or hating a minority of people simply based on how a dissociative disorder presents in them which is apparently a bias that the dissociative identity disorder community has had for a long time i.e treating people more poorly based on alter count but whatever it is I believe it's enough to qualify him for this.

[bisluthq]

No. I was never a fan of her relationship with Joe. I didn’t dislike the pairing or anything, but I was never a shipper. I believed she was happy and they were going to get married and have kids, but I also believed her songs showed a lack of communication and jealousy issues that didn’t sound good. I don’t know if I ever expressed them on the blog because that conversation wouldn’t have been entertained here. But I always thought they were clear problems with their relationship. I didn’t think the jealousy was a thing they did on purpose and enjoyed like people said here. It didn’t sound healthy and fun to me. However, I assumed they had worked through the problems because she seemed happy.

I can’t say a single nice thing about Matty so I’m very much not a maylor.

I don’t have anything against Travis as a person or against his relationship with Taylor. But the songs we have about him sound less passionate than the songs she wrote about Joe. She got with him very fast and, if they’re engaged, it looks like they’re moving on too fast. I’m not hoping the relationship fails. I’m not manifesting a break up. I’m not a Joe widow or a Maylor. I think there’s red flags and they’re not coming from Travis.

You always say Taylor wouldn’t stay in a relationship with bad sex but, even if that’s the case, that still doesn’t mean Matty or Travis were/are the best sex she’s ever had. She said that about Joe, but she hasn’t said it about either of the other two. A lot of people end up in relationships where the sex is worse because they believed that person is better in another category. For example, the fact that Matty was paying attention to her when Joe wasn’t, probably made her feel sexy and the hiding from Joe, or even being saved from him, probably made that whole thing sound hot in her head. Then, her and Matty were very much in a honeymoon phase and even if the sex wasn’t the best sex ever, she thought Matty was going to give her everything Joe didn’t. So I think she would’ve been willing to settle for worse sex because Matty was supposed to give her all these other things.

Taylor has overlooked multiple red flags throughout her life so I don’t know why everyone is so convinced that sex is where she draws the line. I also disagree with saying “yes, she wants to get married but she hasn’t done it yet which proves she will only ever do it when it’s right”.

She was only 26 when she met Joe and her only serious relationship had been with Calvin, there wasn’t really anyone she could have married and she had a lot of time to find someone. Joe was her longest relationship and the best sex she’d had. There were clear red flags and incompatibility issues that she was willing to ignore if Joe married her. It sounds like the catalyst was the fact that she wouldn’t marry her and Matty promised her he would. She was getting bored and didn’t feel loved, but she was going to buy a house with him and she would’ve married him if he had wanted to.

She wrote The Prophecy what? A month before she got with Travis? She couldn’t possibly have gotten over those feelings. She was still hurting from both Joe and Matty. The album is mostly about Matty but that wouldn’t have happened without Joe and she was still mad at Joe late last year. I don’t believe she wants Joe back, but she wasn’t over everything that went down when she got with Travis.

She’s comparing Travis with Joe, how he’s okay with the fame and Joe wasn’t, how he makes her feel loved in a way Joe didn’t (at least not in the end). But she doesn’t sound that passionate about him and it feels like she only got with him because he was the opposite of Joe. It’s like when she started dating 18 year olds after the 30 year olds treated her poorly. The moody British guy didn’t appreciate her and didn’t want the attention that comes with dating her, so she’s now dating an American jock who loves the attention.

I wish her the best, but that doesn’t mean I can’t point out everything I see wrong with that relationship. She’s 34 years old, she feels like Joe wasted her youth, last summer she felt like she was always going to be alone because no one wanted her. We’re going to believe the love of her life showed up at the exact right time? When she was feeling lost and alone, Travis showed up like a white knight and showed her there’s good men out there? Or did she convince herself that Travis is what she needs/she should do because he’s nice and loves her and he’s the opposite of her ex and she’s on her 30s and isn’t married yet and she feels like she should be?

possibly! Fair enough!!

[rainstormies]

(13) dragon's lullaby

title: light the way

fandom: a song of ice and fire

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: the fall of a king, and the rise of a queen. as the warmth of the reach meets the cold north, ice dances with fire

BAELOR

Baelor Hightower stood by the great window of his solar in Oldtown, staring out at the mist-covered harbour. His hands were clasped behind his back, the weight of his family’s ancient seat feeling heavier than ever on his shoulders. The wind carried the distant echoes of the bustling city below, but his mind was miles away, fixated on his daughter — Alina — who was in the North, entangled in a marriage that now threatened to brand their house as traitors. 

"You’re too calm, Baelor," Rhonda’s sharp voice cut through the air, and he sighed inwardly. His wife’s footsteps echoed in the chamber, deliberate and angry. "We need to bring her back now before it's too late."

Baelor turned from the window, his grey eyes meeting Rhonda’s fiery gaze. She was pacing the room, her usually composed demeanour shaken. "Rhonda, I’ve sent ravens. I’ve tried to—"

"Ravens?!" Rhonda interrupted, her voice rising. "You sent ravens when our daughter is married to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, who has declared himself King in the North! Baelor, she’s aligning herself against the crown. Do you understand what this means? If King Robert were still alive, this would already be settled in blood."

Baelor’s jaw tightened. "I know what it means, Rhonda. You think I don’t? But Alina is more than a daughter of Oldtown now. She’s Robb Stark’s wife. Do you think the Starks will allow her to simply walk away without consequence?"

Rhonda stopped pacing and turned to him, her blue eyes filled with desperation. "She is still our child. They will have to allow it. Baelor, she’s only fourteen — barely more than a girl. This is not her war, nor is it ours. We can say she was swept up in the romance of it all, that she didn’t understand the gravity of the situation."

Baelor lowered himself into the high-backed chair beside his desk. "You think it’s that simple? That she’ll just come back, and everyone will forgive her for being ‘a girl in love’?" He rubbed his temples. "You forget that Alina is not just any girl. She is a Hightower. She carries our name, our legacy. We must tread carefully."

Rhonda’s lips tightened into a thin line as she sat across from him. "She’s young, Baelor. Naive. People will believe that. It’s our only way out of this without being labelled traitors ourselves. If we bring her home, we can make it clear that she acted impulsively, and that we — her family — do not support this rebellion."

Baelor shook his head, frustrated. "Alina may be young, but she is not without understanding. Do you think for a moment that she doesn’t know what she’s involved in? She’s clever, Rhonda, perhaps too much for her own good. Robb’s no fool either. They’ve declared war on the Lannisters. Bringing her home now could make her a traitor in the eyes of the North as well."

Rhonda’s expression softened, but her worry remained. "I can’t lose her, Baelor. She’s our daughter. Our child. And this... this war — it’s not hers to fight. She’s only been swept away by the tides of war and love. If we act now, we can protect her, keep her safe."

"I understand, Rhonda." Baelor’s voice was quiet, pained. "But you underestimate how powerful love can be. If we pull her away too forcefully, we may lose her forever. She’s not the girl who left Oldtown anymore. She is the wife of a king now, and that binds her more deeply than any political alliance. To make her leave Robb now... she might see it as a betrayal from us."

Rhonda clenched her hands into fists, her voice trembling. "Then we make her see the danger. Make her understand that she’s jeopardising everything. Baelor, we’re walking a fine line. The Iron Throne will see the Hightowers as traitors if we don’t act."

"I know," Baelor replied heavily. "That’s why we can’t make any rash decisions. If we handle this poorly, we may lose more than just Alina’s love. The whole of Oldtown could pay the price for our mistake."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their positions pressing down on them like a vice. 

Rhonda’s voice softened, barely more than a whisper. "She’s too young to be caught in the middle of this war. I just want to protect her, Baelor."

Baelor stood up, crossing the room to kneel before his wife, taking her hands in his. "We will. But we must be careful. We need to show the crown that she is a child swept up in love and rebellion, not a traitor. We’ll make her return seem innocent — make her seem like a girl who acted on her heart, not on politics. If we do that, we might save her from the consequences of this war."

Rhonda nodded, her eyes filled with fear and hope. "We need her to come home."

Baelor stood, his resolve hardening. "I will make sure of it. But we need to be smart about this. Alina must believe that returning is in her best interest."

Rhonda looked up at her husband, her grip tightening on his hand. "Do whatever it takes. Just bring her home, Baelor."

Baelor nodded, his gaze shifting back to the window, where the grey skies of Oldtown seemed to mirror the turmoil in his heart. 

ALINA

Alina had forgotten how the ocean smelled. The briny tang of saltwater and the crisp breeze that blew in from the harbour filled her lungs as the swan ship approached the towering spires of Oldtown. The Hightower rose above it all, as formidable as ever, its shadow stretching far across the city’s bustling streets. The sight stirred something deep within her, a longing she hadn't realised she still carried. 

Home. 

The ship glided smoothly into the port of Battle Isle, and as soon as the gangplank was lowered, Alina’s heart raced with anticipation. She hadn’t seen her family in years — since before her marriage to Robb, before the war. So much had changed, and yet Oldtown seemed untouched by time. The narrow streets were just as she remembered, lined with familiar vendors selling their wares, the bells of the Starry Sept ringing in the distance.

As her feet touched solid ground, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, but it was tinged with an uncertainty that weighed on her shoulders. Would they see her the same? Or had her choices made her a stranger in their eyes?

"Alina!" a familiar voice called out.

She turned just in time to see her brother, Gerold, striding toward her, his face lighting up with a broad smile. He had grown taller since she last saw him, his once boyish features now hardened into those of a man. Behind him, Samira trailed, her dark curls bouncing with every step, her face still shy but now slightly more mature. 

"Gerold! Samira!" Alina exclaimed, rushing toward them. 

Gerold reached her first, enveloping her in a bear hug. "It’s good to have you back, sister."

"I’ve missed you," Alina breathed, clinging to him tightly before pulling back to look at Samira. "You’ve grown so much," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. 

Samira smiled shyly, ducking her head before wrapping her arms around Alina. "I missed you too," she whispered softly. 

Alina stepped back and looked at her siblings. In that moment, despite everything that had happened, she felt grounded—safe. It wasn’t until her mother and father approached that she remembered how complicated her return was. 

"Alina," Baelor Hightower’s voice boomed as he approached. He was older now, lines of worry etched deeper into his face, but his eyes still held the warmth of a father seeing his daughter after years apart. 

"Father," Alina greeted, bowing her head respectfully before stepping into his embrace. The smell of parchment and ink clung to him as it always had, and for a moment, she was a little girl again, seeking his approval and guidance. 

"You’ve been gone too long," Baelor said quietly, stepping back to look at her. "But you are home now."

Alina offered a small smile, her heart aching with the knowledge that while Oldtown was her home, the North had become a part of her as well. 

"And look at you," Lady Rhonda said, her voice softer than usual as she approached. Alina’s mother was still striking, her red hair streaked with hints of grey, her posture as regal as ever. She embraced Alina gently, as if afraid she might break. "My sweet girl."

Alina’s throat tightened, and she found herself blinking back tears once more. "Mother, I—"

"Shh, we will talk later," Rhonda said, her voice low. She gave Alina a meaningful look, her green eyes serious. "There is much to discuss."

The words hung in the air, casting a shadow over the reunion, but for now, Alina pushed it aside, allowing herself to simply enjoy the warmth of her family’s presence. They returned to the Hightower together, and for a few fleeting moments, all seemed well. Samira clung to her side, Gerold bombarded her with stories of tournaments and travels, and her father looked on with pride. But through it all, Alina could feel her mother’s gaze, watching her closely. 

Later that evening, after the feast welcoming her home had come to an end, Alina found herself summoned to her mother’s chamber. The room was dimly lit, the windows open to the cool sea breeze that drifted through the space. Rhonda sat by the fire, her hands clasped in her lap, her face shadowed with concern. 

"Mother?" Alina asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "You said there was something important we needed to discuss."

Rhonda didn’t respond at first, her eyes fixed on the fire’s flickering flames. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and careful. "Alina, there are things you need to understand about the decisions you’ve made. Your father and I... we worry for you."

Alina frowned, moving to sit across from her mother. "What is it? What’s wrong?"

Rhonda’s eyes softened, but there was a hint of fear in them. "Your marriage to Robb Stark has drawn you into a war, one that could consume all of us if we’re not careful. The crown... they will not look kindly upon your involvement in the North’s rebellion."

"I know," Alina whispered, her heart sinking. "But I love him, Mother. I couldn’t leave him."

Rhonda’s expression softened for a moment before hardening again. "Love is a powerful thing, my dear, but it is also dangerous. And it will not be enough to protect you if things go wrong."

Alina’s pulse quickened. "What are you saying?"

Her mother’s gaze locked onto hers, unblinking. "Baelor and I... we’ve agreed that it might be best if you came home for good. If you... separated yourself from Robb, from the war. There are ways to make it seem as though you were simply a girl swept up in love, unaware of the consequences. You would be safe, Alina. We would be safe."

The words hit Alina like a blow to the chest. "You want me to leave him?"

Rhonda stood, crossing the room to kneel beside her daughter. She took Alina’s hands in hers, her grip firm but gentle. "We want you to come home, where we can protect you. Where you won’t be seen as a traitor. It’s not about leaving Robb, Alina. It’s about saving you."

Alina felt the weight of her mother’s words pressing down on her, suffocating her. The warmth of Oldtown felt suddenly cold, and the love she had for Robb seemed to flicker like a candle in the wind. 

"I don’t know if I can," Alina whispered, tears stinging her eyes. 

Rhonda squeezed her hands, her expression softening. "You can. And we will help you, no matter what happens."

Alina nodded, but deep down, she knew the decision would not be so simple. The love she felt for Robb, the duty she had to the North, and the loyalty she owed her family — they were pulling her in opposite directions. 

The fire crackled in the hearth, but for Alina, the world felt colder than it ever had. 

Alina sat by the window, watching the last remnants of daylight fade over Oldtown’s skyline. The distant sound of waves crashing against the harbour was faint, muffled by the thick stone walls of the Hightower. She let out a long, slow breath. Despite being home, everything felt foreign — different. The weight of her conversation with her mother still hung heavy on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She ran her fingers along the window ledge, tracing the familiar grooves in the stone as if searching for a connection to the past she had left behind. 

"Shall we, my lady?" Lanna Rowan, her ever-loyal handmaiden, stood nearby with a soft smile. Her voice was quiet, knowing not to disturb the thoughts swirling in Alina’s mind. 

Alina turned away from the window, offering a nod. "Yes. Thank you, Lanna."

The other handmaidens bustled around, preparing the bath with steaming water infused with lavender and rose petals. The room filled with the soothing scent, but even the familiar fragrances of her childhood couldn’t ease the tension that coiled within her. Slowly, they helped her undress, the fine fabric of her dress slipping off her shoulders like a whisper. The bathwater embraced her skin with warmth, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. 

But her mind wandered back to the North. To Robb. 

Lanna hummed a soft tune as she gently washed Alina’s hair, the same lullaby that had often been sung to them both in their youth. It was a reminder of simpler times, times when her greatest worries were whether she would get to ride her horse before the rains came or whether the courtyard was warm enough for an afternoon walk. 

Now, those days seemed like a lifetime ago. 

One by one, the other handmaidens finished their tasks, quietly slipping out of the room with soft curtsies and murmured goodnights. Lanna was the last to leave, giving Alina a knowing smile as she wrapped her in a thick, soft towel. 

"You’ll feel better in the morning, my lady," Lanna said, her voice gentle as always. "The night has a way of making everything seem heavier than it is."

"I hope you’re right," Alina whispered, watching as Lanna curtsied and closed the door behind her. 

Alina sat at her vanity, brushing out her long hair, now damp and smelling faintly of roses. She stared at her reflection in the polished mirror, noting the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin. She had aged in these past years, not just in appearance, but in the weight of her heart. Her mind was far away, in the cold halls of Winterfell, thinking of the man she had left behind. 

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. "Come in," she called, expecting Lanna had returned to fetch something forgotten. 

But it was Samira, her younger sister, slipping through the doorway with her nightgown trailing behind her. The girl’s dark hair was tousled, her large eyes wide and shy as she tiptoed into the room. 

"Samira," Alina said with a fond smile, setting down her brush. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep," Samira whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. Without waiting for an invitation, she padded over to Alina's large bed and crawled onto it, pulling the thick furs over herself. 

Alina’s heart swelled at the sight. It was a scene from their childhood. How many nights had Samira crept into her bed, frightened by nightmares or the howling of the wind outside their window? The young girl had always been timid, a stark contrast to Alina’s more adventurous spirit. And yet, even now, Alina couldn’t help but feel protective over her shy, gentle sister. 

"Still having night terrors?" Alina teased softly, though there was no bite to her words. 

Samira didn’t answer, only curled up more tightly beneath the covers. Alina rose from her vanity, crossing the room to join her sister in bed. She slipped beneath the furs, their warmth enveloping her, and lay beside Samira, just as she had done so many times before. 

"Do you remember," Samira whispered into the darkness, "when we used to pretend that we were the ladies of Oldtown and that our bed was a ship sailing across the seas?"

Alina smiled, though it was bittersweet. "Yes. We used to think the world was waiting for us just beyond the horizon."

Samira was quiet for a long moment, her breath steadying as sleep began to claim her. "I wish it was still like that," she murmured, her voice growing softer. 

Alina closed her eyes, feeling the familiar weight of her sister’s presence beside her. "So do I."

The room fell into silence, save for the soft rustling of the wind outside and the distant call of the ocean. But Alina's thoughts were far away, drifting back to Winterfell, to the North. To Robb. 

She imagined his face, his strong jaw and fierce, yet kind eyes. The way he had looked at her before she left—the promise in his gaze. She wanted so desperately to return to him, to the life they had begun to build together. Yet her heart felt split, torn between love and duty, between her family and the path she had chosen. 

As sleep began to tug at her mind, she whispered to herself, "I will return to you, Robb. I promise."

But even as she spoke the words, a coldness settled over her heart, and the weight of uncertainty lingered in the back of her mind. 

The last tear that had slipped from her eye had long since dried, but the ache remained. 

Alina stood on the balcony of the Hightower, the familiar sea breeze whipping through her hair, the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. The sun was setting, casting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and orange, but the beauty of it was lost on her. She had been home for a few days, but it still didn’t feel like home. Oldtown, once so comforting and full of warmth, now felt like a cage, closing in on her. 

The wind caught her gown, billowing the pale fabric around her legs. She closed her eyes, letting the cool air brush against her cheeks, trying to still her racing heart. She had been restless ever since she left Winterfell, ever since she left him. Every day that passed felt like an eternity, waiting for news, waiting for the moment she could return to Robb’s side. 

She heard their footsteps. 

She turned slowly, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her father was standing in the room alongside her mother. It wasn’t supper just yet. His face was pale, his expression grave, and something in his eyes made her heart freeze. 

"Father?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath catching in her throat. 

Baelor stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. He didn’t speak at first, only watching her with the same haunted look that told her everything she needed to know. Her hands trembled as she stepped forward. 

"What is it? What’s happened?" she demanded, though her voice wavered, betraying the dread rising in her chest. 

Baelor hesitated, his eyes softening with sorrow. "Alina... there is something I must tell you."

She could feel the blood drain from her face, her heart pounding in her ears. "Tell me what?"

"It’s Robb." The words came like a blade to her chest. "And Lady Catelyn... they’re dead."

Her world shattered. 

The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp, her legs buckling beneath her. She stumbled, clutching the back of a chair to steady herself, but the room spun around her, the edges of her vision blurring. 

"No," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "No, it can't be."

Baelor's voice was low, filled with the weight of the truth. "They were betrayed. At the Twins, by the Freys. It was a trap."

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. The words didn’t make sense—they couldn’t. Not Robb. Not the man who had promised to make her his queen, the man she had left her home and her family for. Not Lady Catelyn, who had taken her in and treated her like a daughter. 

"Robb is..." The words stuck in her throat, a lump rising so high she thought she might choke. Tears blurred her vision, spilling over before she could stop them. She didn’t care. She was collapsing, crumbling beneath the weight of grief so immense it felt like it would crush her. 

Her mother stepped forward, her hands reaching out to her, but she recoiled from her touch. "How could this happen?" she sobbed, her voice breaking. "He was supposed to be safe. They were supposed to win!"

Baelor’s face was drawn with pain, but his voice remained steady. "It was treachery, Alina. The Freys broke their sacred oaths. Robb and Lady Catelyn... they were slain at the feast. There was no mercy."

“A- at the wedding? But it was a wedding!” Alina was now yelling, her voice echoing through the halls. “Do they have no honour?”

The tears came faster, uncontrollable. Alina collapsed onto the cold stone floor, her body shaking as sobs wracked through her. She buried her face in her hands, trying to block out the world, trying to block out the truth. 

“My poor Robb, what did they do to you?”

The images in her mind flashed like lightning—Robb's smile, the warmth of his embrace, the way he had looked at her that last night before she left. He had kissed her, whispered promises that they would be together again soon. Now he was gone, ripped from her in the cruellest of ways. 

Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, each one jagged and sharp, cutting deeper into her with every breath she took. 

Lady Rhonda knelt beside her, her hand resting gently on her shoulder. "I’m sorry, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry."

But no amount of apologies could fix what had been done. No words could undo the horror of what had happened. Robb was dead. Lady Catelyn was dead. The Stark family she had come to love had been destroyed, and with them, every hope she had for her future. 

"I should have been there," she whispered, her voice hoarse and broken. "I should have... I should have stayed."

Baelor's face was grim. "There was nothing you could have done, Alina. You would have been killed too."

But she wasn’t sure that would have been worse. 

“Alina. We are your family, think of us, think of your brother and your sister. Your father is Lord now, what will the others think?” Her mother’s words were no reassurance. 

“Lord Stark lost his head at King’s Landing. He was my family too. And they killed him. They beheaded him. Does he not deserve justice too?” Alina was angry. She was angry at her family for ripping her away from Robb. Angry at the Freys for killing her husband. Angry at the world for leaving her behind in such misery. 

Alina pressed her hands to her chest, as if that could somehow hold the pieces of her heart together. But it was no use. She had been shattered, and she didn’t know how she could ever be whole again. 

Alina could do nothing but scream. Scream until her voice ached. Her head hit the floor, her hands covering her chest as she struggled to breathe. 

Alina’s father tried to pull her to her feet. All Alina could do was look up through her tears. “No, you’re lying! Mother, why would you lie to me?”

“My Light, my sweet Alina,” Her parents were just standing there. 

“No, I promised him,” Alina pulls her arms away harshly. “I promised him I would return.”

“You’re a liar! You’re all liars. My- My Robb.”

It was all too much. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Robb. 

Her sweet, Robb. 

The man she had fallen in love with. 

Dead. 

It couldn’t be. It just-

It just couldn’t be. 

Alina’s throat hurt. But not as much as her heart. Not as much as the truth that her husband was gone. 

She felt arms around her. Lanna. She smelled sweet, like the gardens in Highgarden. Like the roses and lilies that grew there. It was a comforting smell. 

But Alina longed for the musk and sweat, the one she so fondly associated with Robb. 

She would never be able to smell him, or even touch him again. 

He was gone. Just… gone.

[regexkind]

Do-Mi-Do Binge (Guest Article)

In 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T was released to American audiences. They did not want it, and that reflects poorly on them. If released today, I'm confident that it would electrify the soft, sad freaks on this unprofitable website.

Near the conclusion of the film, our villain, Dr. Terwilliker, sings a number where he implores his tailors to dress him up for his glorious triumph:

It's an...incredible song. My wife Lal is stepping in as a guest writer here and has shared her thoughts:

The outfit Dr. Terwilliker has planned for his villainous denouement is probably composed of the goofiest sounding phrases Dr. Seuss could come up with. After all, most kids would have no idea what half this stuff was! But let’s take the song seriously and see where it leads us:

Dress me in my silver garters, dress me in my diamond studs.

We’re starting off reasonable here. Garters hold your socks up, studs keep your collar down, and diamond and silver are perfectly normal fancy materials.

Cause I'm going do-mi-do-ing in my do-mi-do duds! I want my undulating undies with the maribou frills!

And here we’re already taking a turn. We are not going to discuss the “undulating” part, but maribou- you see that on old-timey rich widow robes. Those are those sheer robes with feather trim- so Dr. T’s underwear are probably boxer-brief sheer mesh with matching rows of feathers, at minimum at the waist and legs, but as this is a Dr. Seuss movie, probably continuing in stripes over the whole surface of the underwear. Not practical.

I want my beautiful bolero with the porcupine quills!

A bolero is a short jacket, originally associated with bullfighting, but later an article of women’s clothing. Surprisingly, Dr. T is quite hip and with it! Five Thousand Fingers came out in ‘53, and boleros only came on scene in 1950, apparently with the arrival of strapless dresses (via The Gundron, 1954). As you can see from this picture from ‘56, the historical bolero is longer and looser than its modern equivalent, but still, the porcupine quills pose… a problem.

We have also embarked on a theme we will be hearing a lot of in Do Mi Do Duds: women’s clothing!

I want my purple nylon girdle with the orange blossom buds

A girdle is the modern version of the corset, and while occasionally worn by men, is mostly associated with women. Nylon would have been rather a new fabric at the time, so very modern! The orange blossom buds could pose their own complication. Unless they are a print, they would prevent the outer clothing from lying smoothly. But as we will see, Dr. T. intends to wear so many layers that the point is probably moot.

Note that orange blossoms, as in the blossoms of orange trees, are white, so the color combination is not as garish as one might expect, but don’t worry, we’ll more than make up for it later.

Cause I'm going do-mi-do-ing in my do-mi-do duds!

Yes, we know.

Come on and dress me! dress me! dress me! In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inter-lining made of Chesapeake mouse!

“Peek-a-boo blouse” is one of those terms that means different things to different people. It can refer to a great many cuts and styles, but in general, a peek-a-boo blouse is either made of a sheer fabric or has flirty little cut-outs. We’re going to go with the second option, because “sheer” doesn’t work well with “mouse fur lining.”

So… Cleavage windows. Dr. Terwilliker wants cleavage windows.

Let’s back up to that mouse for a minute. Fur was a lot less controversial in the fifties than today, but think about how many mice it would take to line a blouse, even one with cleavage windows, and the kind of casual cruelty involved in suggesting such a thing. Also, Chesapeake mouse isn’t a real thing. It doesn’t refer to any variety or species, it’s just mice. From the Chesapeake region.

I want my polka-dotted dickey with the crinoline fringe For I'm going do-mi-do-ing on a do-mi-do binge!

Everyone laughs at this part, but it’s a real thing, I swear! You may have seen a dickey, particularly in an old movie or cartoon, and not known what it was. It’s a false shirt front, generally fabric and occasionally plastic- God knows which Dr. T wants- worn with a tuxedo or formal suit, neither of which Terwilliker at any point asks for. Possibly he intends to wear it under the peek-a-boo blouse.

Dickeys are traditionally mens' clothing, but once again Terwilliker is queering the binary because crinolines are women’s clothing- fluffy tulle underskirts to make your dress stick out all nice. Dickeys also made a foray into women’s fashion about ten years before Five Thousand Fingers was produced. I blame WWII fabric rationing.

So, does Dr. T. want a man’s or a woman’s shirt front? I don’t know, and neither do his tailors, and that’s why they’re ignoring him! Either way, it‘s going to be hideous, with polka dots and tulle ruffles sticking out from the sides, looking worse than an eighties prom tux and making it obvious just how fake this whole thing is.

This, only worse.

I want my lavender spats and in addition to them I want my honey-colored gusset with the herringbone hem

The lavender spats are about the only thing in the song we actually see Terwilliker wearing! Spats are just decorative shoe covers. You’d see them towards the end of the dickey era, maybe late nineteenth century to the early forties. 

A gusset… You can’t wear a gusset. Like, it’s a part of clothing, but you wouldn’t ask to wear a bell bottom cuff, would you? (Well, if you were Dr. T. you would.) A gusset is a feature of a garment designed to improve fit, like a dart- one of those little tuck-and-release jobbies especially common to well-made women’s clothing because ladies have curves. 

Herringbone is a very fine, detailed pattern you see on nice suits and business clothes. Theoretically, you could cut and fold some herringbone fabric to make a border for a gusset, but why would you? They’re supposed to be invisible, to blend in! Once again, Dr. T.’s tailors are (wisely) ignoring him.

This little rhombodial-diamond thing in the armpit is a gusset. Useful if your expensive blouse has gotten just a bit too tight!

I want my softest little jacket made of watermelon suede

This is two jackets at once. And a fur-lined shirt. Where is that giant piano, the Arctic?

I am just going to assume watermelon refers to the color. I don’t even want to think about how you make suede from a melon rind.

And my long persimmon placket with the platinum braid

A placket is like a gusset in that you can’t just wear one! It’s part of something else, for God’s sake! And you have to specify where you want it! A placket is a slit. Just a slit. Generally at the neckline, in a sleeve or in the top of trousers or a skirt. Whatever Terwilliker is paying his tailors, it’s not enough. Especially since it’s in pastoolas.

We’ll assume the platinum braid is a trim. It has an eighteenth century military vibe. Persimmon has to refer to the color. This whole outfit is tending kind of pastel, and, dare I say, it, pretty fruity.

I want my leg of mutton sleeves and in addition to those

What are the sleeves attached to, Terwilliker? Do you care to share that? Or do you just want them flapping around?

Leg of mutton sleeves are, again, very nineteenth century and very femme. They’re these things, named because they have the same shape as a cooked sheep leg:

(Not always this big, but since when does Dr. T. do subtle?)

I want my cutie chamois booties with the leopard skin bows

They’re booties, so they’re short, and they’re booties, so they’re femme. 

And again with the casual slaughter of endangered animals! We’re going to have to be careful to put the bows low on the toes to avoid getting in the way of the spats.

I want my pink brocaded bodice with the floofy fuzzy ruffs

Finally, something we can attach those sleeves to. It goes well with them: it’s ornate, old fashioned and extremely feminine. Granted, I tend to think Baroque rather than Victorian when it comes to brocade, and furniture or waistcoats rather than dresses, but we’re queering the gender binary, so why not the timeline too?

Close up of brocade from Wikipedia. Gold brocade is the most familiar, but sure, let’s go with a pink ground. 

And my gorgeous bright blue bloomers

Essentially, Terwilliker is asking for two pairs of underwear. What does he think is going to happen today? 

With the monkey feather cuffs

I have no idea what this is.

I want my organdy snood and in addition to that

A snood is a fancy, old-timey hair net. Organdy is a stiff, sheer fabric; you could do worse. 

Dr. T. has short hair. Why does he want a snood? What is he going to do with it?

I want my chiffon Mother Hubbard lined with Hudson Bay rat

Bag. It’s a bag. More specifically, a Mother Hubbard is another nineteenth century creation, this time long and shapeless and designed for house cleaning. Chiffon is a fancy, light party dress fabric. It would be like Dr. Terwilliker asking for his “silky satin sweatpants.” It just makes no sense.

Again: imaginary East Coast rodents. With all these layers and furs, he’s got to be roasting. We keep seeing Dr. Terwilliker asking for fancy things in ways that make absolutely no sense, and along with the “poison ivy walls” in Victorious it seems like he’s reaching for the trappings of wealth and prestige without really understanding what makes them fit together.

Dahling, you are so new money.

Dress me up from top to bottom, dress me up from tip to toe

Yeah, uh-huh, we get the picture.

Dress me up in silk and spinach for today is do-mi-do day!

Now you’re just being silly. Stop being silly.

DO-MI-DO DAY! So come and dress me in the blossoms of a million pink trees!

I’ve never seen a pink tree, and now I know why. (Note: the trees are pink. What color are the blossoms? Who knows.)  That’s a whole generation of seeds that simply won’t exist. And you thought the Onceler was bad!

Also, a million bottle caps is enough to fill half a school gym. If each blossom has three times the volume of a bottle cap and cannot be compressed for fear of damaging it, and if each tree has three or four hundred flowers… We’re gonna need a bigger piano room.

Come on and dress me up in liverwurst! and camembert cheese!

Liverwurst is a soft, disgusting sausage. It might be wearable in links, as a sash or garland. Camembert cheese is similar to Brie. How Terwilliker intends to wear it I don’t know.

Come on and dress me up in pretzels, 

If they’re large, soft pretzels (those are the good kind anyways), we could maybe hang them off Terwilliker’s ears like earrings or Bronze Age ear ornaments?

dress me up in bock beer suds

No. Just no. Absolutely not. The foam will dissolve and soak all the other clothes and ruin everything and stink something awful.

Cause I'm gooooo-ing-- do-mi-dooooooooo-ing-- in my do-mi-do duds! 

In conclusion, Dr. Terwilliker’s proposed outfit contains 23 elements, all but two of which are roundly disregarded by his tailors. He lists them off in no discernible order, but when they are sorted:

11 are articles of women’s clothing or components thereof

5 are at least a decade out of fashion, and often from the last century

6 aren’t even clothing and 5 of those are actually food

If Terwilliker’s instructions were followed, he would wind up wearing:

A fancy hair net

Two blouses

A third, fake blouse

Two jackets

A dress

Two layers of rodent fur

A corset lite (™)

Two pairs of underwear

No pants

A weird charcuterie board

A bunch of flowers

Boots with boot protectors

Every single element of this mess is *fancy*! Fur! Feathers! Flowers! Silver! Chiffon!All the luxury of wealth with none of the discretion! A complete lack of practicality! Do-Mi-Do Day is meant to be a triumph, not just over piano-hating little boys, but because it forces the world to recognize Terwilliker as Elite and his Academy as an Institution!

[multifandom-onigiri]

being someone who’s been a very adamant Haruka and Muu liker for around 2 years I think, it’s really interesting seeing how the fandom (really going to mostly be talking about Twitter here) has reacted to Haruka’s and Muu’s newfound friendship. And by interesting, I mean it is nearly downright unbearable to see people jump on Muu to the point where I absolutely think her guilty vote is just sealed, even if we don’t get her MV probably until November.

The one interesting thing about all of this is that most people make their friendship to be “Muu is the dominant person in this relationship and revealing her true colors as a malicious manipulator and Haruka, the poor victim, is stuck having to do 100% of her bidding”. It’s so agreed upon that people think Muu MUST be referring to Haruka in the first line of her song preview, even though I would really think that the songs would be primarily about revealing more of the details of their murders rather than really focusing on their current friendship. (My first thought is that Muu is talking about her dad because her parents are probably a major factor in why she is entitled, as they give her everything she wants.) Because that’s what Es’s role as guard is: judging the sins of the prisoners, not having to fix or break apart two people’s volatile relationship with each other.

There are multiple reasons why I hate how their friendship is majorly seen so far:

1) The conversation is really centered around how it would affect Haruka, how he would get hurt by it, how he’s the one getting the shorter end of the stick. While for Muu, all people have to say is how Muu’s so toxic!! She doesn’t care about Haruka at all, she views Haruka as something disposable, she’s going to drop Haruka if their verdicts are different. (And I want to argue against not necessarily this, but why that’s not the only reason she would drop him depending on the verdict.) Either that or people just saying, “i mean. Yeah. She was obviously this kind of person from the start.” (I’m not particularly mad at this one and I’m not condemning the people who say this. I’m just noticing the difference between how people will analyze Haruka on the spot to say why he shouldn’t be friends with Muu while for Muu it’s like “she’s just. Not a good person. LOL.” The provided example of what people say about Muu is less of analysis and more of people predicting what will happen by jumping to conclusions about her character.” I’ve seen a max of two threads on Twitter for Muu.

Ok I’m not saying that people actually have to write a thread on Muu to prove they know why she’s the way she is. This is poorly written; idk how to explain the feeling that people wanting to protect Haruka and who are very willing to tell you why is much more largely said out loud. )

1.5) I’ve found it really odd that a lot of people that like Haruka think that Fuuta would be a 100% better influence and friend for Haruka. Muu’s increasing amount of self-centeredness and insensitivity is very much a result to the innocent verdict we gave her. If we had given Muu and Fuuta the opposite verdicts in the first trial, I guarantee you Fuuta’s aggressiveness and his tendency to point fingers at people would have most likely increased, and some of it would have rubbed off of Haruka. Would people really like that more? (Why do I feel like the answer to this…is yes…)

(Reasons 1 + 1.5 combined just make me feel…ummm. Really bad vibes tbh)

2) I’m genuinely surprised that people think everything (and I mean everything.) about the “new” Haruka is a direct result of Muu’s influence and nothing else. And while some of it is a direct result of her influence (his pose that he’s doing in his sprite + keeping the hairclips Muu gave him. <- fashion sense rubbing off on him) , I’d argue that his new sense of confidence in himself and him seemingly echoing the same desire that Muu has to stay in Milgram is not solely just Muu’s doing.

It’s a result of the innocent verdict we’ve given him. Giving him the innocent verdict along with becoming friends with Muu has caused him to realize that something.

That Milgram is the perfect escape from his cruel reality of not being paid attention to/not being loved or cared for by someone that he never knew he needed, but now he’s found it.

I do have to admit right now Haruka’s story/testimony is one where I have more trouble creating a clearer picture of the murder(s ? I’ll get to that in a moment.) and the exact circumstances leading up to it (them). So im going to try to talk this point through, but please correct me if need be. (Tbh my point. I don’t think it really touches upon that specifically but I’ll see as I write this out.)

Something I’ve noticed with trial 1 Haruka is that the guy clearly hates himself. a lot. Or at least he seems practically incapable of viewing himself in any sort of positive light. (I’m pretty sure that’s called hating yourself.) His season 1 voice lines refers to himself as “someone like me” and mentions about how he brings misfortune to others, and this pops up in his voice drama along with the notion that he has 0 right to judge people because of what he’s done (which also pops up in interrogation question #16.) The MV (like the animation alone and not the lyrics) can be take as an example of this if you believe the younger self theory. (I do. Because I’m totally not biased and totally not projecting myself onto that.) This negativity seems to be a result from what other people (very likely his parents) have told and called him (hopeless, a disappointment, “you praised me by saying ‘you’re crazy’”), and as a result he’s internalized it to the point of believing in it.

I’ve been looking stuff up and need to look around more and there seems to be multiple theories about who’s he killed and how many times he killed? He has a confirmed kill of at least 1 because I don’t think you can or should really deny that he killed the dog that he followed into the forest. We know he doesn’t like animals and that’s probably the reason why. Every other possible murder he’s committed is unconfirmed and not implied enough to the point where everyone agrees it happened like a good amount of the other MVs. I’m pretty sure you need to have at least directly or indirectly caused the death of one being to get sent to Milgram. And then multiple amounts of possible murders/deaths that have been theorized ranging from the brother theory to “he might have killed his mom” to “he might have committed suicide.”

But regardless, most of these seems to stem from the fact that they’re all an act of desperation, a result of him wanting to be cared for and just. never getting it. ever.

Jump to the present where we’ve just started Trial 2. From what we’ve gotten for Trial 2 so far, the self-negativity seems to have completely disappeared. He has done a complete 180, has not mentioned a single time about how he’s a disappointment, and you can just hear his genuine confidence in his voice.

I looked back at his voice drama, and something that stands out to me is that getting interrogated made him happy because he was actually being listened to. It ties into everything I just talked about and also how the innocent verdict we gave him plays a part in how he gains this self confidence.

And the answer is just that. He was able to tell us his story and we listened to him and accepted him and how he felt. We agreed that he should be paid more attention to. Giving him a guilty vote would have probably told him that what the people in his life had told him was the truth, essentially just affirming and strengthening the internalized negativity he had in trial 1.

Milgram has given him everything he could have ever wanted. A place where he feels like he could be accepted for who he is rather than being shamed for it. He’s stated that the other inmates have been kind to him.

And he’s found Muu, the person that he states has given him the most attention and the person who I’d like to argue that is the most similar to Haruka out of the rest of the cast.

(I’ve already rambled a lot about Muu’s background and I don’t really want to repeat stuff I’ve said because of how long this already is, so please refer to this while you start reading this section.)

Both Muu and Haruka care a great deal about the connections they form (or fail to form) with the people in their life. Despite (the possibility of) his parents viewing Haruka as a major disappointment, Haruka very much cared about what they thought of him. The MV suggests that, and in the interrogation questions, he says that he loves his family and he wants to see his mom (with the words crossed out.) In After Pain, it’s implied that the people bullying her to the point where she’s mentally unstable used to be her friends. And the entire bridge building up to the chorus has Muu desperately run after the purple hair girl that she cares about in some way due to how her pupils dilate the moment the purple haired girl walks by Muu lying among random stuff scattered across the floor.

Both Muu and Haruka also wants some form of attention from both the people around them but also us, the audience. As explained with Haruka, he just wants to be generally loved and cared for, while for Muu, she wants affirmation that she didn’t deserve to be bullied. That she didn’t do anything wrong in this situation. Their songs revolve around this, portraying them both in a light that makes the audience want to pity them. And that’s how they managed to earn their innocent vote. People pitied Haruka as they learned of his circumstances and watched him self-deprecate himself. People pitied Muu as they learned of her circumstances and watched her cry and pity herself for somehow landing in this situation.

At the core of both of these characters, they are people with similar demeanors who value and are looking for very similar things, despite the fact that both of them have dealt with vastly different circumstances and upbringings. And this is why I believe that’s how they became even closer friends when the verdicts dropped and also why their relationship is so volatile. They’re more likely to be able to understand and comfort each other at the cost of literally enabling each other to never grow as people. They both don’t want to leave Milgram and would rather stay forever in this prison, using it as an escapist fantasy. In a different story, you’d probably be able to write how both of them could keep their friendship intact while learning how to accept that they need to confront their issues and not ignore them.

But let’s be real here. This is Milgram. That is not happening, and will never happen. I’ve accepted that already and the fact that there’s a very high chance that my vote does not matter when it comes to the characters improving or not. They will probably get worse. The vote probably affects how they get worse. But they will get worse. Sad.

I’m hoping we get to see their relationship play out through the portal tweets and Minigram because I really want to see how it’s developed (and whether I’m right on the money with it.) I’m also curious about what happens to their friendship after the trial 2 votes. (Took 2-3 hours just to finally talk about why I don’t think Muu would necessarily drop Haruka because she “doesn’t need him anymore.”)

I think the most likely outcome that would result in her dropping Haruka is if she was voted innocent, while Haruka was voted guilty. (Which is NOT HAPPENING rn from the looks of it LOL.) She would drop him because Milgram agrees with her, and she isn’t wrong. One of her season 2 voicelines states that “I knew I could trust you to know that Muu did nothing wrong…right?” (Not word for word.) If she’s voted innocent, she’d probably choose to trust Milgram and distance herself away from Haruka. (And…I don’t want to think about the consequences of that just yet. I know. It would be really bad.)

I think if Haruka is voted innocent while she is voted guilty (the most likely to happen as of rn), she doesn’t so much “drop him” but rather she starts questioning herself again and two things could happen with this. 1) She starts to cling onto Haruka EVEN MORE because he’s the one person she knows/believes will listen to everything she says. She doesn’t want to be seen as being in the wrong, and knowing that at least one person will believe her would give her something to have at least a shred of hope in. 2) She does distance herself away from Haruka, not because she doesn’t need him but because she can no longer trust Milgram. Milgram has deemed that she is in the wrong; therefore Milgram must be like the people who bullied her. The people who hated how she acted. Becoming more paranoid and developing a “the world vs. me” attitude, she doesn’t want to associate with anyone favored by Milgram. Haruka being voted innocent means that Milgram trusts him, and she can’t trust that.

I think if they’re both voted guilty, that’s probably the outcome where she’s the least likely to drop him. I can’t really come up of a reason why she would. They were both voted guilty, so it probably just affirms to her how similar their situations are and probably convinces her that they need to stick with each other. That’s my personal take.

I want to see how much Haruka has changed before I can tell whether he wants to stay with Muu or not depending on these outcomes.

[lilyclawthorne]

I cant be the only one who feels “Bruno says it looks like rain, in doing so he floods my brain” is Pepa acknowledging him saying it caused anxiety?? (Sorry idk anyone who’s watched it so I came here to discuss it bc???? It seems obvious to me idk maybe I’m looking too much into it sorry for rambling at this point it’s like. 2 in the morning)

I mean I kinda think so? I never felt like she blamed him for “causing” rain. I think she would know better that Bruno doesn’t make things happen unlike a lot of people in the village.

I kinda took her part of the song as her being more mad that he told her in the first place. It’s clear she’s operating under the assumption that “it looks like rain” was a prophecy. And despite Pepa just saying there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, we know it was more than that when Félix says “no clouds allowed in the sky.” This was something Pepa was really stressed about and feeling like she was told there’s nothing she could do could prevent it could absolutely make her spiral, especially when it’s on top of all the added stress that already comes with a wedding.

It’s interesting too, that she says “flood my brain”. We know when she needs to calm down, she thinks or says “clear skies”, so an opposite of that, not just rain, but a flood, is probably indicative of the fact that she’s is not only getting nervous, but being completely overwhelmed by everything she’s worried about. Perhaps she’s feeling if he had never said anything to her, it would’ve been fine because she only broke when he told her that.

We however know by the end of movie that it wasn’t a prophecy, just a poorly timed joke. Bruno had good intentions, trying to help his sister calm down, but it seems he didn’t really think about what he said before saying it? One would think any weather joke would be a bad idea around Pepa when stressed. So overall, I don’t really think anyone’s really to blame. He made a dumb mistake, but he can’t really be to blame for Pepa having bad anxiety issues, yknow? And I don’t really think you can blame her either for her anxiety spiraling?

The only issue I could still see with the line is “In doing so he floods my brain”. Like she acknowledges her anxiety causes the storm but she is still blaming him for her anxiety occurring in the first place, when in reality it was probably just the tip of the iceberg, and some other mishandled comment during the day could’ve caused her to freak out too.

[hobbitsnapes]

YOU GUYS ARE DATING

Corpse x MGK!sister reader

(Found this image on Pinterest so all credit goes to artist, if you know who it is please comment below so I can credit them)

A/N: this was requested by @heyitssab

Tree is tall of sex in this, but it’s more in a joking matter, plus corpse has stated he doesn’t mind as long as you are not a minor or send or tag him. I’m literally 2 years younger than him, and have no intentions of ever tagging him or sending him any of my work XD

Summary: how many idiots does it take to tell the brother and friend they’re dating? Apparently takes 2 very forgetful people, who kept their relationship secret without knowing it.

It had just been by chance, a small chance that he had been scrolling through his tags. liking and reposting art, when he saw a tag from someone he followed. He wrecked his brain for when he had followed her, coming up empty. She was cute, no denying the beauty she had as she laughed in the video. It was a clip from a stream that he didn’t know she had, as he couldn’t even remember her name, wearing his merch as it fit her snug. It fit her perfectly in fact, the large hood covering her face, hiding the flush to her face from her rather large chuckles that left her body. He couldn’t help but like the photo, and he couldn’t help but to press message either.

It was first only small likes to posts, an Occasional message, and a view on their livestreams, but that all changed when he spoke of the song he was working on with her older brother.

It all started that night, when both lay in their beds as they talked, laughed, and felt their hearts flutter each time they heard one another speak.

Her phone rang violently in her bag, nearly making her drop the to go bag all over the ground as she walked. “Hello?” She asked, as she held both bags with her hands as her shoulder gripped the phone as if it’d fall down a cliff. “Hey bug!” He exclaimed, making her chuckle as she heard the booming sound of his voice. She had always detested the nickname, as he gave it to her as kids due to her horrendous fear of the creatures. But, it brought more joy to her, as it reminded her of their youth. Having been adults for years, it was fun to hear such a childish name that’s stuck.

“Hey mopey.” She chuckled, as that was the name she gave him when he was in his emo phase that he never outgrew.

Both talked as she walked towards the elevator, mainly about how his day had gone as she silently listened.

She had always been this way, always the shyer of the two, the one to listen to others first before she said a word. He had teased her for it most of their childhood and teen life, but he had grown to love it, as he could let loose or rant to her about anything, and he knew she’d be there just to listen to him.

“So what’re you doing right now?” He asked, as she got into the elevator. “Just grabbed some dinner a few minutes before you called and nearly made me shit.” A smile painted on her face at his boisterous laughter.

“Are you at home?” He asked, as he heard the sound of the elevator beeping in the background. “No, I’m spending the night with my boyfriend.”

She had mentioned about a month prior that she was seeing someone, the joy it brought him to hear the excitement and joy in her tone as she gushed about their first date.

If this was 7 or 8 years prior, he would be bombarding her with questions about the man, who he was, where he lived, where he could meet him to find his intentions with his baby sister. But, in the last few years, he found himself feeling calmer whenever she’d mentioned her love life. He knew she was smart, and would never date a man who treated her poorly. The few breakups she had, they always ended amicably, her head still high as she told him. So, he never asked her any questions about the man, as he could tell from the few times she mentioned him, he could feel the love this man had for her, and Vice versa.

The strong barreling of her phone alerted them awake, both groaning out as she reached for her phone without lifting her head from his shoulder. “Hello?” She mumbled, voice slurred as the saliva was thick in her mouth, barely awake as she fought to listen in on who dares to wake them up.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, making her equally exhausted lover groan. She shifted off of him, laying on her back as he turned away from her, as to hopefully shut his eyes and fall back asleep. She was used to her brother's large voice, as it hardly phased her after growing up with him. “Colson, why are you calling me this ungodly hour?” “Oh come on, it’s not that early.” “Col its-“ She pulled her phone from her ear, eyes shutting violently as the bright light blinded her “5 o’clock in the morning. So again, I’m going to ask you, why did you call me at the asscrack of dawn?” “You don’t remember?” He asked, making her irritation grow. “No, that’s why I’m asking.” She says, as she rubbed her sleep crusted eyes. “You were coming up today to hang out with casie, remember?” Her hand stopped rubbing her face, as she felt her heart stop momentarily. “Wait, you mean today? I thought I was coming Friday?” “No, both of you settled on today, remember I told you that’s perfect because I have a day off?” She felt her heart pain as she heard the sadness in his tone, knowing he’s expecting her to bail. “Yeah sorry, I thought you meant Friday so I mixed it up, let me get ready and I’ll be out the door okay? Love you” she said, as she hung up the line.

Before she could even move, she felt his arm wrap around her body. A tired groan leaving his lips. “Nooo stayyyy.” He groaned, pulling her body to his. She smiled as she looked down at him, wrapping her arm on his chest and the other behind his neck. “I wish I could live, but I can’t.” Planting a soft kiss against his lips. “Stay in bed for a few more hours, please?” Her heart pulled at his tone, hearing just how tired he was. “I can’t, casies wanted me to come up for weeks now. And it takes a good 3 hours to get there. I wanna spend as much time as I can with them before it gets dark so I can get back safely.” He groaned at this, wrapping his arms around her. “Yeah but it’s only 5, it wouldn’t be safe to drive since we went to bed like, 2 hours ago.” “Yeah, and whos fault was that mister?” She teased, “hmm, sorry but I just couldn’t keep my hands to myself after not seeing you for a few days.” He mused, pulling her body closer to his, planting his lips against hers. A small hum left her lips as he pulled her thigh over his, grabbing the flesh harshly as their lips cascaded together. “Mm, no no no, you’re not gonna convince me to stay here just to go another round.” She said, as she got off from his warm body, throwing his large hoodie over her bare body. “Oh come on babe, are you sure about that?” He said, making her turn around to him. A small gasp left her lips as her eyes took in his milky white complexion. His honey brown eyes looking back at her with a small smile etched onto his face. His hair a tousled mess that resembled a bird's nest, some pieces falling onto his face. “Honey, I’ve been wanting to see my family for weeks now, I see you almost everyday and practically live here. I’ll be back tomorrow so I can grab more clothes from my place okay?” She placed a kiss to his lips, both holding one another in their arms. “I don’t know why you don’t just say fuck that place and just move in.” He mumbled, making her chuckle and heart warm. “Don't you think it’s a little soon though? I mean we’ve only been together a few months love.” “Yeah, but you’ve practically lived here since we got together, you literally just go there to get more clothes that you end up leaving here.” She looked into his eyes as she thought about his words. “Hm, I’ll think about it today okay?” She mused, planting a kiss to his lips. A soft okay leaving him as she got up.

“And babe, remember if you live here, we can have all the sex we want and not have to worry about driving to get one another.” He exclaimed, laughing at the loud honey she screamed from the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but laugh out as she watched, as her niece tried her hardest to braid her fathers grown out hair. It was near impossible not to, as pieces would fall out, resulting in her pulling them harsher, nearly pulling his eyelids back due to the tension from his temples. “Okay okay you’re gonna fuckin scalp me.” He chuckled , as all three bursted out in large laughter.

“So how’s school going this year?” She asked her, as she delicately painted her nails. Both of the girls had found themselves on the floor in front of the nice coffee table, as colson sat and chatted with them. “It’s going really well.” “Oh yeah? Make any new friends?” She teased. “I mean, kinda.” She couldn’t help but hear the wavering in her tone, spotting the faint blush dusting her skin. “Ohh, so there’s a someone eh?” She teased to her, making the preteen hide her face as to conceal the flush. “His names Garrett, and we both take social studies together. He always sits next to me at lunch, and we’ll draw on my notebook.” She gushed, making her smile. “Soo, do you think he likes you?” “I mean, that’s what everyone keeps saying.” “Yeah well don’t worry about it to much cas, you’re not dating anyone for many more years. You’re still a kid.” Her das said, making the young girls face fall.

Y/N knew he was only saying this to protect her, as he said the same thing to her growing up. “Hey, don’t be bummed out about it. He is right, you both are only 12 and should focus on school. But don’t worry, he’ll come around. He was just like that with me up until my current boyfriend.” She whispered, making the young girl chuckle.

“Speaking of which, how are you guys doing?” He asked, as she hadn’t mentioned hun to her in a while. He didn’t think it’d hurt to ask. “Great actually, we’re thinking of moving in together actually.” “That’s great! I’m really happy that y’all met.” “Yeah, I am too.” She hummed, a flush dusting her cheeks.

Both men laughed as they chatted on the phone, talking about anything that would come to mind. What was once only a collaboration for a song, turned into an amazing friendship that caused both of them to call at late hours just to shoot the shit.

A yawn left his lips, as he listened to colson ramble on about another song he was making. “Woah, you tired man?” Colson asked, shocked to hear the sound. “Yeah sorry, was up most of the night last night.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Were you feeling alright?” He asked, worry laced in his tone. He knew all about his friends illnesses, even once being on the other end of the phone during a bad spell one day.” “Oh yeah yeah yeah, was just, up with the misses last night.” He chuckled, a flush blooming on his cheeks. “Ohhh yeah? And how was it?” This shocked him, nearly feeling his heart stop. Like, does he usually know about his sisters sex life? He didn’t think much of it, as he knew just how close both were. “It was absolutely fucking amazing. Like I thought we’d be done for the night, fully tapped out but after like 5 minutes she’d be right back on me for another round.” He chuckled, his flush even worse than before. “Ayyyeee good for you corpse, glad to hear that puss is bussin.” He laughed at this, throwing his head back. “Yeah, it’s bussin bussin.”

Both men talk as they read from their phones, eyes wide in absolute awe of the love they received from the song. They had just dropped it a few days prior, not expecting the cry of joy from both fan bases.

He didn’t even look up from it when she walked in, until she bent down to plant a kiss to his forehead. “Sorry I had completely forgot about the tea I made you an hour ago, but I put it back on the stove to heat it up so if it’s twisting funky just tell me okay?” Before he could even thank her, both their heads whipped towards the loudness from the other line. “Y/N? Is that you? What in the hell are you doing there with corpse!” He didn’t sound angry, more shocked than anything, both of them looking at the phone in confusion. “I, I love here? Remember I told you like a month ago I was moving in with him?” “WHAT!” Both jumped at the loud scream. “Wait so you guys are dating!?” Both we’re even more perplexed, until it dawned on both of them. Their eyes wide as they turned their heads to one another slowly. “Wait you didn’t tell him?” “No? He’s one of your best friends so I thought you did!” “He’s your brother! So I thought you did!” Both whisper, until all three lay silent. That was until, the large cry of laughter that leaves the two, leaving colson even more confused. He wasn’t mad, not at all actually. More shocked and confused than anything. Until he started thinking, it does make sense, all the times they spoke about one another without him knowing, all the times they mentioned-“OH GOD!” He yelled, gagging violently, making them stop their laughing fit. “What's wrong? Why are you yelling?” She asks “like a month ago corpse was talking about how he was tired cause he was up all night having sex AND I HAD NO IDEA HE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU! OH GOD WAS THAT WHY YOU WERE LIMPING THAT DAY WITH CAS AND I!” Both laugh even harder, as they listen to his ever growing gags.

“So yeah,. That’s literally how we had no idea we were keeping the relationship secret from her brother.” He laughed, as he red the comments and listened to his friends' laughter. She sat beside him, head laying on his shoulder as he told the story. She couldn’t help but to look back up into his eyes, as he glanced down at her, planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Keep it pg guys.” Colson said from the other line, making them chuckle.

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[rebrandedbard]

Gifted Glances Stolen Smiles

wc - 2391

Ao3 link.

Jaskier is trying to get Geralt to smile, but he just can't seem to figure out what it takes, and he maybe gives Geralt a goodnight kiss while he sleeps. In the meantime, Geralt thinks they're already in a relationship that's moving at the speed of a glacier and he's sweet about it.

-

Did Geralt ever smile, Jaskier wondered? The man was stoic at the best of times, and at the worst, his face was warped with displeasure. It was a treat to see Geralt relaxed: the lines of his wrinkles would soften, his brow unfurrow, and—if Jaskier were very lucky—Geralt would close his eyes and rest awhile, looking nearly content.

Jaskier liked it best when Geralt slept. He was always the last one asleep, the first one awake. It was a rare thing to catch Geralt unconscious, and Jaskier was sure that was by design. But twice he’d woken in the middle of the night and found himself nose to nose with the sleeping witcher. The first time, it had been nearly impossible to see his face in the darkness, but the second, the moon had been almost full, so big and bright, and she’d cast her light upon his face. It was like the light which fell through the windows of a cathedral to embrace the masterworks of great artists upon the altars. And what better pedestal for Geralt than a soft pillow? If Jaskier had his way, he’d wrap Geralt in the finest linen sheets, lay him on a down mattress, all bathed in lavender for a restful night’s sleep. He wondered what his face would look like then. Beautiful, no doubt.

Geralt had almost seemed to be smiling, softened in sleep. Jaskier had not been able to help himself. He tipped his head forward and placed the gentlest kiss upon his brow; a silent good-night, and a blessing for pleasant dreams. If he tried, Jaskier could trick himself into believing Geralt really did smile after.

Alas, Jaskier lamented: Geralt wasn’t one for smiling. But then again, he’d never been one for talking much either, and the next day he was unusually chatty. Geralt had said, ‘Good morning’ and used up a few of his precious fifty words a day to complain about Jaskier’s breath before breakfast. When they’d sat down to eat, Geralt asked if Jaskier wanted to return to the room, have his sleep out while he went off to see the alderman. A very unusual offer. Geralt often had Jaskier tag along to collect payment, as Jaskier had a persuasive tongue. With Jaskier at his side, Geralt received most of his payment in full.

“Are you trying to trick me, witcher?” Jaskier asked. “Trying to give me the slip and make off while I’m asleep? Tell me, what have you put in my morning tea? Have you spread some sleeping draught on my bread instead of jam?”

He took a great bite, swallowed it down with a monstrous slurp, then pretended to gag. He threw a hand over his forehead and went limp over his plate.

Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged Jaskier’s foot under the table.

“I live!” Jaskier gasped theatrically.

“It’s a miracle,” Geralt deadpanned.

Jaskier grinned and tucked back in, chewing at a more gentlemanly pace. “So. What is it? Have I got bags under my eyes or something? You’re being generous.”

“I just thought you might be tired.”

“Well, that was courteous of you. But rest assured, I am well rested.”

Geralt hummed. He returned to his breakfast without another word, and Jaskier regarded it as a fluke of the early morning.

Until it happened again in the market.

They were returning from their meeting with the alderman—only stiffed by one silver coin—when Jaskier wheedled his way into an extra hour of shopping. Geralt followed along at Jaskier’s side while he flitted from stall to stall, abusing this sudden burst of generosity to have a bit of fun.

“Look at this, Geralt!” Jaskier held up a little floral sachet embroidered with two stars. It was filled with lavender and chamomile, with just a hint of cinnamon.

“This,” he explained, “is a charm for good dreams. See these two stars here? They’re wishing stars. The first grants blessings for good dreams during your first sleep, the second for your second. You see, most charms try to lay a sort of blanket-blessing for the whole night, which is why they never work. My grandmother made one of these for me when I was little and she used both stars. I never had a poor night’s sleep with it under my pillow.”

“Hm.” Geralt picked up the sachet, examining it with an amused expression.

Jaskier liked when Geralt looked smug. It was not the smile he truly wanted, but anything like a smile was a blessing to see. He was always glad when Geralt enjoyed himself.

Geralt dangled the little sachet in front of Jaskier’s nose, swinging it slightly. “And how did you sleep last night? Are you in need of a sleeping charm?” he asked.

Jaskier stiffened. That made twice that Geralt had suggested sleeping poorly. Jaskier had been sure he’d been asleep, but now he had an inkling that he was being made the fool. He lightly tugged the sachet from his hand and returned it to the stall.

Geralt resumed his silence after they left the market.

That night, Jaskier slept with his back to Geralt. He thought he could feel Geralt’s eyes on the back of his head long after they snuffed the candle. He nearly jumped when he felt the arm wrap around his waist.

Geralt pulled him to his chest and spoke in his ear. “Calm down,” he murmured. “You’re thinking too loudly. I can’t sleep.”

Jaskier nodded, heart racing with nervous energy.

“This too,” Geralt said, placing a hand over the thrumming in his chest.

“I’m afraid that’s out of my hands.”

“It’s in mine. So relax. You have nothing to fear with me.”

That was … a strange sort of comment. Strange, and oddly calming. Jaskier played them over in his head, imagining them in a new context. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of Geralt wrapped around him, warm and steady. Geralt’s breath tickled his neck. And yes, Geralt had his hand over his heart. His heart was, in many ways, in Geralt’s hand.

Jaskier smiled, cracking an eyes to look up at the moon. “I’m not afraid of any werewolves sniffing about tonight if that’s what you were thinking.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Hm. So what do you think I’m afraid of?”

Geralt only hummed in reply.

Jaskier turned under Geralt’s arm. “Oh no, I said ‘hm’ first. You have to say something else. I already used it in this conversation.”

“Hm,” Geralt replied again, a funny little smirk on his face.

“I’ll smother you,” Jaskier threatened, putting a hand on Geralt’s pillow to make good.

But Geralt took the hand from under his head and wrapped it around Jaskier’s. “Wish you would,” he murmured.

“Come now, Geralt. The pay wasn’t that bad. And I don’t really mean to suffocate you; you don’t have to hold me back.”

“You need more sleep. You’re slow-witted today.”

Jaskier frowned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

So he did, and things were relatively normal as the week progressed. Evidently, Jaskier looked rested enough, and Geralt no longer felt the need to make comments. Perhaps that had been all. Jaskier had to admit, he was tired. Or perhaps it was more convenient to pretend. He didn’t like thinking that Geralt had woken, and he didn’t believe Geralt would toy with him.

They were on the path again, and Jaskier returned to his musing. What, he wondered, would make Geralt smile? He told jokes at the tavern at the next town, hoping to steal one little grin. Now and then he cast a look over his shoulder to see if Geralt might laugh, but after the first few jokes he had to concede. He spent the rest of comedy hour focusing on his circle of patrons, laughing and drinking while he waited for Geralt to finish his lunch.

In the evening, he worked the same crowd, hopping round and round in a dance as he played his songs. He played a few songs Geralt had deemed not horrendously irredeemable in the past to see if that might do the trick, then tossed in a few cheeky verses of ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for good measure. He bought Geralt an extra ale. A second plate.

Geralt never did smile, but at least he looked pleased.

When Jaskier had a moment spare, he brushed Roach and polished her tack. It would seem this quest of his was never-ending. All month long he’d been asking himself the question, and honestly, his efforts were uninspired. He wasn’t doing anything more or less than what he would normally do, sprinkling in little treats here and there which he thought Geralt might enjoy. There wasn’t  anything special in it. The lack of imagination bothered Jaskier and he knew that if he wanted Geralt to smile, he would have to think of something bigger, grander!

But Geralt was different. Geralt didn’t mull over these things. It was surprising, yes, when Geralt went out of his way to do things for him, but he didn’t agonize over doing them. As easily as Geralt set his bags down at the campfire, he might place an apple by Jaskier’s elbow. The day might be long, but Geralt would set up camp at midday to let them rest, just when Jaskier was aching for a good lie down.

Jaskier lay awake after his first sleep some nights, watching him, thinking it over. The more Jaskier thought about it, the more he became aware of the little things Geralt did. They were more frequent now. At least once a day, Geralt did something to make him smile. All Jaskier wanted was to do the same.

What, Jaskier asked himself. What would make him smile?

He stood in the tailor’s mirror, asking himself the question once more as he adjusted his new doublet. He turned this way and that, plucking at the sleeves. It would be autumn soon enough, and he needed to dress for the season. He thought a nice red would do.

Geralt sat on a stool to one side, a new cloak folded upon his lap. It was Jaskier’s treat for the day, and he had bullied Geralt into accepting it.

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to the side of the mirror. He hoped he might steal a glance of Geralt smiling at the new cloak. It was a black wool, lined with soft fleece. It was still a bit early to wear anything so heavy, but Geralt was always telling him to think ahead. This village was known for their particular breed of sheep, and the coin was good, so Jaskier thought it wise to invest in the warmest, softest wool in the east. Silently, Jaskier dared anyone to try and find a more thoughtful gift than that! It was a smart gift, he thought, and to his great shock, he saw it at last.

Geralt was smiling, a real, true smile. Not a smile born of politeness, nor a wry grimace, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. But Geralt was not looking at the cloak.

Geralt caught Jaskier’s eye in the mirror.

Jaskier turned and said, “You’re smiling.”

“I do that,” he replied.

“Not often. I hardly ever see it.”

Great shrugged. “You’re too busy most of the time.”

“I’ve been trying to catch you smiling all month long! I’ve been constantly vigilant. How could I be too busy?”

“You’re singing. You’re talking and dancing, writing. Having fun. I like to watch you do it,” Geralt answered. “Almost as much as you like to watch me sleep.”

Jaskier flushed. “You know about that?” he asked.

Geralt stood, setting the cloak aside, and crossed the room to stand beside him. “I don’t mind. It’s no different from my watching you.” As he spoke, he carefully slipped his hand into Jaskier’s. “I understand if you still want to move slowly, but some nights I wish that you would kiss me again. I thought you were trying to tell me you were ready for more.”

Jaskier’s heart stopped.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “Even so,” he said, leaning his head against Jaskier’s cheek, “I’m happy where we are now. I’m all in, Jaskier. However long it takes, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Waiting?” Jaskier squawked. He did not currently have the capacity to process everything Geralt had said, and Geralt had said quite a lot—very plainly spoken—in less than a minute.

Geralt nodded. “As long as you need.”

“You’ve been waiting on me. Waiting for me to … I beg your pardon, but did you say you wanted me to kiss you?”

“I did.”

Jaskier’s limp hands remembered themselves. They rose to cover over Geralt’s arms. Jaskier simply gaped into the mirror. Slowly, a smile lit up his eyes.

“Hey, Geralt?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I bet you a gold coin I know a way, guaranteed, to make you smile again on command.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re broke.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m guaranteed to win.”

“Given your tone, I have a funny idea I’m about to win something as well.”

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Geralt hummed. “I love being right,” he said.

“And what else do you love, my dear?” Jaskier brought a hand up to curl a teasing finger around Geralt’s long white hair. He felt giddy and silly. He wanted to dance and sing and act a fool, then leap into Geralt’s arms. But never mind the leaping; at that very moment, he was right where he wanted to be.

Geralt shushed him. Slowly, he unwrapped himself from Jaskier and walked back to the stool. He picked up the cloak and wrapped it around himself, after which he bumped Jaskier out of the mirror to have a look.

“My new cloak,” he answered.

Jaskier laughed and bumped him back. “I have excellent taste.”

“You do.” And Geralt adjusted Jaskier’s ruffled tie.

They stood together, side by side in the mirror, stealing glances at one another. No, not stealing, Jaskier realized, for this was allowed. He would not steal glances this day forward. From now on, they would be a gift. So he gifted Geralt with another glance and winked.

And Geralt smiled.

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

it's early evening when geralt makes it to the lake hidden in the woods surrounding the little no-name town—village, really. the smithy, acting as alderman, had pointed to the trees with a grave expression when he'd inquired about the contract posting.

"something's in them woods," he'd said. "take care of it, witcher. don't care how."

he gazes across the still surface of the water for a long moment, but nothing moves, so he begins setting up camp. roach's ears flick as he removes his saddlebags, patting her neck affectionately after removing her bridle, and she headbutts him in the chest in return before moving off to graze, unconcerned.

"yeah," he tells her softly, "i'm not expecting much either, girl."

gathering wood takes no time at all, and soon enough geralt has a fire going to cook what meat he has for dinner, his bedroll laid out several paces from the bank. he props his swords against a nearby fallen log, and then sits on top of it, settling in to wait.

he doesn't wait long; he's just pulling the cooked quail meat from the spit when ripples disturb the glass-smooth surface of the lake, and he's immediately on guard as a form emerges. the something in the woods, he assumes.

a head of dark hair slowly rises from the water, and then two bright blue eyes are watching him from the center of the lake. its skin looks fair and porcelain smooth as more of its face is revealed, and he briefly thinks of the delicate, fragile figurines ciri collected for a time until it tilts its head in curiosity and the deep red scales over its cheekbones are set ablaze in the dying rays of the sun, its sharp teeth bared as it grins.

a mer.

absently, geralt wonders what a mer is doing this far inland and away from the coast, but this lake is fed into by a river that leads to the sea, so perhaps the mer is simply adventurous.

this is proven a beat of his slow heart later when the mer moves toward him, his tail—covered in the same deep red scales as his cheeks and lighting up like flames as the sunlight hits it—propelling him forward and still grinning. he props his arms on the bank and leans out of the water, showing off a chest covered in thick, dark hair.

"well, hello there," he says, voice smooth and musical, an almost hypnotic quality to the cadence. a mer with siren blood, it seems. no wonder there's a bounty on him. "you're a pretty thing, aren't you."

that's my line, geralt thinks offhandedly, but internally shakes it away and remains outwardly silent. siren Songs don't work on witchers, but he's still a hot-blooded man with working eyes, and the mer isn't actively attacking him, so he doesn't raise his sword against him. yet.

"strong, silent type, eh?" he teases. his eyes seem to glow in the evening light. "that's fine. i like that type, too."

he gives him a jaunty wave and a wink, and geralt watches as he moves back to the center of the lake—smartly staying away from the threat a witcher presents or luring him into a false sense of security to implement some other hunting ploy, he can't say.

the mer heads to a small cluster of rocks jutting from the lake and lifts himself onto them, perching upon them like a throne. his tail moves lazily in the water as he begins singing a popular working shanty from the nearest coastal town, the delicate fins floating on the surface like gossamer. geralt sees scales curling up his sides like cresting waves and scattered in a spray of rubies over his elbows to match the ones on his cheeks, his dark hair curling around his ears in an oddly humanly charming way.

beautiful, he thinks, and shakes that thought away, too.

he turns back to his quail, keeping one eye on his strange if not unwanted companion, but otherwise leaving him be. he goes through a cycle of songs, from shanties to tavern ditties to softer lullabies, his voice mesmerizing and enthralling. geralt can feel the pull of the Songs in his blood, urging him closer, but it's faint and easily resistible for him; a human, however, might not be so lucky, which is why he's been hired here in the first place.

but—well. take care leaves a lot of room for interpretation. and he's feeling less and less inclined to resist the alluring being before him.

the moon is high when there's a splash and geralt looks up from where he's been staring at his fire burning lower to see the mer at the bank again, head propped on his crossed arms and eyes glowing softly in the moonlight. he's a vision, all easy sensuality and graceful movements, and geralt takes him in with hunger in his eyes that isn't missed.

the mer winks at him again, tail rising from the water. "i love the way you just...sit there and brood."

geralt's gaze catches on his mouth, and he watches with intensity as the mer drags his tongue over his bottom lip, his sharp teeth catching it and pulling on it, teasing. enticing.

"you make a habit of flirting with your executioners?" he asks, voice rough with his poorly hidden desire. his sword hasn't left its sheath.

it gets him a dangerously lovely grin. "when i think i can get away with it," he replies cheekily. he gazes up at geralt from under his long eyelashes, all come-hither and temptation and want.

geralt wants.

he stands and walks slowly to the edge of the lake, kneeling beside the bank. he puts up one last token protest anyway even as he leans in until their faces are a breath apart. "you're not afraid i'll take care of you like the village is paying me to?"

"oh, pretty thing," the mer murmurs against his mouth, his sharp teeth catching softly on his lip, "i'll be the one taking care of you."