#changed the opening line (to something i'm very proud of i must say)

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of the last yr scene.

wilmon endgame • episode 6

the camera work is so on point - it follows wille around moving frenetically, as to emphasize the hurry and the tension.

simon gets in panic mode for a sec. he was never over wilhelm but definitely thought their relationship was.

at first he looks ... scared - not of wille but of what he feels for him at this point. he's still in love but they got to the finish line, they broke up with no idea of when or if they will talk to each other again, there's no reason for wille to chase after him if not to change something.

it makes his thoughts spiral, but somewhere in his little heart he has a lot of hope too and that's why he steps out of the car to hear what he has to say.

these words really mean everything and i'm glad they're told directly to simon. it's such a sigh of relief for wilhelm to get this off his chest and mean it for real: he's doing something for his own sake finally - to be free, to be happy, to be in control of his own life for once.

he never got to choose anything - somebody else has always done it for him - but he no longer has to be afraid anymore.

simon is just as relieved and the proudest: he proved over and over again to care so deeply. to see wilhelm constantly hurting inevitably hurt him too.

he knew wille was brave - he actually told him once - and he was so right. it takes a lot of courage to do what wille just did.

shut up he's adorable :') playing with his fingers and trying not to break into a smile. he wants to look calm and collected but his heart is jumping out of happiness.

this comes after the are you sure you're over me? - breaking up was all it took for wille to think that simon must not love him anymore: to earn love and for everything to be perfect in order to deserve love is what his family and royal life always taught him - but simon's what the hell do you think? proves him so wrong.

the tears in his eyes i cannot - this is the face of a man who's bursting out of love, he adores simon this much.

they crush into the hug like they've been dying to do it. what a moment it must be for them to close the distance.

in this hug they find what they both were needing the most.

they hold on to each other. emotions are so overwhelming and it's written all over their faces - it feels too good to be real.

it's almost scary to let go now and i love how they tighten the hug at the same time, clinging to make it last longer.

and they're at the same height so simon has to be on his tippy toes ahsjkh.

oh the beauty in simon feeling every emotion to the fullest and letting them all out. he doesn't hold himself back and it is truly heartwarming to watch.

this hug is healing - he's giving joy to be back in wille's arms, proud of wille for putting himself first, relief because the fear of losing him was too much to handle.

the single tear drop and the pure disbelief in his expression. he caresses wille's cheek and keeps looking at him like he's the most precious thing.

doing the triangle method - again. old habits never die huh.

wille letting simon choose to whether kiss him or not.

it's our simon we're talking about, the one that risked it all and initiated their very first kiss bc he liked wille that much already, so could he possibly not do that now? he obviously does and can't help but smile into it.

they can't get enough of kissing and wandering hands. it's like their only way to make this become more and more real.

fair to say they're kinda obsessed with each other's hair!

love love looove the transition from them kissing in secret in the dark of the night to them kissing freely out in the open in the daylight - the most beautiful metaphor.

completely different plot points but the feelings involved are so familiar - reunion kisses are very much their brand: there's longing, passion, need to savor the moment to make it last.

and this time it can really last forever.

something super special about simon not replying with i love you too but sticking to i love you - it is not just reciprocal.

this shot haunts me. it's from the documentary and idk why it wasn't used in the final cut, i'll make space for it here anyway!

wille can't stop smiling and simon never takes his eyes off of him - he's emotionally overwhelmed by the way he bites his lip and his chin trembles. my heart.

no ray of sunshine between them could ever distract me from wilhelm diving into this kiss with his eyes open.

simon is definitely being pulled closer by the waist here and i take it very personally.

i was already full on sobbing when this part of the scene came up - sara and felice calling them out bc they are too caught up in their own bubble.

they still take one more moment to just look at each other so fondly tho and try to get a grip on what has just happened.

i get you wille! simon is the loml too.

this shot is sooo!!! hillerska in the rear view mirror as they drive away - time for the last bittersweet goodbye.

all of them are wearing white, they're driving off in a white car, most carefree than ever - sounds a lot like freedom and fresh start.

some things never change - they're the most comfortable and happy when they can be just them, just like this.

god knows where they're headed but it doesn't really matter as long as they're together.

wilmon endgame babyyyy.

they've been through so much but come so far eventually. it's the end of young royals but the beginning of a new chapter in wilmon story - the best one - and it's only theirs to write from now on.

it's still going to be tough, storms are still about to come their way and ruin plans, life is a mess but at least they have each other. they're holding hands in a we are in this together kind of promise and it's so reassuring to know.

it was a hell of a ride but love and hope wins - and there's truly no one who deserves it more than them.

time to appreciate the comparison between wille the perfect crown prince and messy hair with undone shirt wille!

he looks at the audience for the very last time with the most content smile and we can tell he really is - ready. to leave us behind, to face the future, to experience life in the way we've seen him fight for before.

wilmon breaking the fourth wall together at the end would've been insane, but it feels so right to focus on wille actually: it's always been just him, it all started with our eyes on him and his journey, the choice to abdicate is for his own sake and not for simon - he said it himself - so for him to be alone in the closing shot makes the most sense to me.

wilhelm finally getting his own little family of people who loves and values him, simon sharing life with the person who's made him feel seen and cared for - this is honestly the best finale we could’ve ever asked for.

[elf-osamu]

hi!!! i hope you’re doing ok! so uhm i hope nothings missing but can i have prompt 15 from fluff list 1 w/ oda? i’m non binary and i’m also saying the line <3 both platonic or romantic is ok! i don’t really mind. thank u so much for your time and have an amazing day 🌷

“ COME TASTE! TELL ME IF I NEED TO ADD ANYTHING ”

[ masterlist ] [ event ] [ reblogs are v v v appreciated ]

fluff, canon divergence, can be interpreted both as romantic and platonic, oda sakunosuke x non-binary!reader (no specific prns used)

warning(s) : food !

word count : 465 words

plot : “ you surprise oda with his favorite meal, cooked by you for the first time. what does he think? ”

a/n : hi vess !!! i've written this while listening to “eat your young” by hozier and, i must admit it, it has been an experience/pos. anyway, it's the first time i actually write about oda and i'm not really satisfied with it, but that's okay, i'm going to improve when i find time :].

prompt taken from here !!

[ ☆ ] oda would be delighted to discover you are trying to make him happy with curry rice, his favorite dish !

[ ☆ ] whether you're a good cook or not, he would appreciate the effort regardless.

[ ☆ ] however, if you ask for his opinion on your cooking skills, he'd be extremely blunt. oda is a honest man and says what it's strictly necessary - not in a harsh tone, but in a considerate way.

[ ☆ ] if you happen to make his favorite version of curry rice, that is quite spicy and served with a raw egg on top of it, he'll be positively surprised.

oda had always been a soft-spoken man in his life.

he was easily described as a generally calm, collected individual who did what he had to without many pretensions, rarely acting on a whim.

he wanted a simple, quiet life, filled with domestic moments and things which were very dear to him.

he was modest in his tastes and dreams... and he was content like this.

“okay, it's almost done”, you muttered to yourself as you watched over the pan where you were cooking the rice.

you had been invited by oda at his apartment to have lunch together and discuss the plans that he had in mind for his future books; he had recently published a short novel which was being sold everywhere in yokohama, much to your (and his) contentment.

you were proud of his accomplishment.

so, you had wanted to make something to congralute him; you had been rummaging through his kitchen and shelves to gather all the ingredients needed, then you started preparing the dish.

finding a recipe that was very similar to the original one hadn't been an easy task for you, but ultimately you had managed to discover it.

then there you were, sighing because of the high temperature of the room.

you were about to make the final touches when you heard the opening of the apartment's door.

oda sakunosuke just got home when the pungent aroma of his loved spice met his nostrils. he happily hummed as he changed his shoes and took off his light coat, going to the kitchen.

when you saw him entering the room, you looked at him and your face lit up.

“oda, come taste!” you exclaimed, gesturing him to go near the pan. you offered him a ladle to take a bit of curry rice. “tell me if i need to add anything”, you smiled.

he carefully tasted it, silently pondering if anything was missing.

as expected, he took his time to answer.

“i believe”, he thought out loud, a pensive expression adorned his face. “you should add more spice to it”.

you chuckled and did as he told you.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

[kazoosandfannypacks]

For the director's cut ask game - ⭐ for your favorite fic you've written!

As the Sun Rose and Seasons Changed: Director's Commentary

I already got to talk about my favorite fic, This is (Kinda) the Way, so I thought I'd share instead another fic I'm proud of. This one is an important missing moment from my favorite 1907 novel, The Shuttle, one that I keep saying "oh, surely someone already wrote a fanfic about this!" about, but once I realized no one had, I knew the torch must be passed to me.

This commentary contains spoilers for Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Shuttle. If you've not read The Shuttle, don't read this commentary! Instead, read this list of reasons you should read The Shuttle, or just cut out the middleman of my campaigning and go read it for free right now on libby, project gutenburg, or as a pdf!

Starting right off, why did I name it what I did? Well, the title of the fic is taken from this quote from Lord Mount Dunstan in ch. 35: The Tidal Wave, which, if you remember, is the scene in which Dunstan finally confesses his feelings about Betty to Penzance.

“The Book of Revelations has shown to me how—how MAGNIFICENT life might be!” Mount Dunstan clenched and unclenched his hands, his eyes flashing. “Magnificent—that is the word. To go to her on equal ground to take her hands and speak one's passion as one would—as her eyes answered. Oh, one would know! To bring her home to this place—having made it as it once was—to live with her here—to be WITH her as the sun rose and set and the seasons changed—with the joy of life filling each of them. SHE is the joy of Life—the very heart of it. You see where I am—you see!”

The first chapter title "As Any Lunatic Has Ever Been," is also taken from the same chapter of the book.

Mount Dunstan threw back his head with a big, harsh laugh. He came out of the shadow and stood still. “Well,” he said, “I am in love—as much in love as any lunatic ever was—with the daughter of Reuben S. Vanderpoel. There you are—and there I am!”

This line has always struck me as a beautiful one, especially held in contrast to this line from his narrative foil, the dearly despised Nigel Anstruthers.

“Are you QUITE mad?” she said. “Not quite,” he answered; “only three parts—but I am beyond my own control.

There's something to be said about Nigel only allowing his lust towards Betty to drive him "three parts" of the way mad, but Dunstan finally admitting that his love and devotion for Betty has finally driven him all the way to the point of what may as well be insanity.

Anyway, we're here to talk about my fic, not about parallels in The Shuttle.

(Though, if you'd LIKE to talk about parallels in The Shuttle, or even just about The Shuttle in general, my dms and inbox are always open ;))

I love writing fics based on this book because I tend to match the voice of the media I'm writing from (dwampyist humor in Milo Murphy's Law fics; first person in Percy Jackson fics, ect.) and The Shuttle fics give me a chance to write before an audience with great pomp and splendor, using many archaic and descriptive words, copying Burnett's style, filling in with seventy-five words what a modern author might write in only seven. It's almost a form of poetry tucked away inside a form of prose, that here I can write a story in a way that makes the magic of every slightest moment come alive.

One of the recurring themes throughout the novel is that of pride, which could be said to define both Bettina and Nigel, but especially Dunstan. This is highlighted by Penzance, again in chapter 35:

“You think your reasons for holding aloof from her are the reasons of a man.” Mr. Penzance's voice sounded to him remote. “They are the reasons of a man's pride—but that is not the strongest thing in the world. It only imagines it is. You think that you cannot go to her as a luckier man could. You think nothing shall force you to speak. Ask yourself why. It is because you believe that to show your heart would be to place yourself in the humiliating position of a man who might seem to her and to the world to be a base fellow.” “An impudent, pushing, base fellow,” thrust in Mount Dunstan fiercely. “One of a vulgar lot. A thing fancying even its beggary worth buying. What has a man—whose very name is hung with tattered ugliness—to offer?” Penzance's hand was still on his shoulder and his look at him was long. “His very pride,” he said at last, “his very obstinacy and haughty, stubborn determination. Those broken because the other feeling is the stronger and overcomes him utterly.” A flush leaped to Mount Dunstan's forehead. He set both elbows on the mantel and let his forehead fall on his clenched fists. And the savage Briton rose in him. “No!” he said passionately. “By God, no!” “You say that,” said the older man, “because you have not yet reached the end of your tether. Unhappy as you are, you are not unhappy enough. Of the two, you love yourself the more—your pride and your stubbornness.” “Yes,” between his teeth. “I suppose I retain yet a sort of respect—and affection—for my pride. May God leave it to me!”

And this idea of both Betty and Dunstan sacrificing the pride that's held them both apart for too long reaches its climax at the end of chapter 44:

“Listen,” he broke out suddenly. “Penzance told me—warned me—that some time a moment would come which would be stronger than all else in a man—than all else in the world. It has come now. Let me take you home.” “Than what else?” she said slowly, and became even paler than before. He strove to release himself from the possession of the moment, and in his struggle answered with a sort of savagery. “Than scruple—than power—even than a man's determination and decent pride.” “Are you proud?” she half whispered quite brokenly. “I am not—since I waited for the ringing of the church bell—since I heard it toll. After that the world was empty—and it was as empty of decent pride as of everything else. There was nothing left. I was the humblest broken thing on earth.” “You!” he gasped. “Do you know I think I shall go mad directly perhaps it is happening now. YOU were humble and broken—your world was empty! Because——?” “Look at me, Lord Mount Dunstan,” and the sweetest voice in the world was a tender, wild little cry to him. “Oh LOOK at me!”

This all sets up as a backdrop to Dunstan's line to Reuben in my fic:

"All I own is a crumbling ruin, overgrown lawns, a title of a blackguard– unjustly endowed, but the fact still remains. Of graces, I have none, and of learning, nothing of note, and I've not a shilling to my name. I once believed I could even offer my pride, but with how I've allowed it to be stripped away, I'm afraid I've not even that left to offer."

{and for extra credit, with humillity and the sacrifice of pride being prevalent in this book, I feel it a good time to bring up that another recurring theme in this story is bluebells, and that of bluebells underwater. It should be noted that this book was written in and around the Victorian era, and in the Victorian flower language, bluebells represent, you guessed it, humility.}

I also included shortly thereafter the line "with the boldness and determination of a knight set out to war, determined to conquer and return to his beloved." This is in reference to the passages in ch. 15 and ch. 18, in which Betty notes that Dunstan "would have looked well in a coat of mail," and Penzance notes the way Dunstan carries himself: "his right hand was clenched on his hip, as a man's might be as he clenched the hilt of his sword."

Now onto chapter two of the fic!

This title, "Two strong forces drawing together," also comes from one of Penzance's lines in, no surprise, chapter 35 of The Shuttle.

“I have spent my quiet life in thinking of the forces for which we find no explanation—of the causes of which we only see the effects. Long ago in looking at you in one of my pondering moments I said to myself that YOU were of the Primeval Force which cannot lose its way—which sweeps a clear pathway for itself as it moves—and which cannot be held back. I said to you just now that because you are a strong man you cannot be sure that a woman you are—even in spite of yourself—making mad love to, is unconscious that you are doing it. You do not know what your strength lies in. I do not, the woman does not, but we must all feel it, whether we comprehend it or no. You said of this fine creature, some time since, that she was Life, and you have just said again something of the same kind. It is quite true. She is Life, and the joy of it. You are two strong forces, and you are drawing together.”

To this day, one of the most romantic lines I've ever written probably comes in this proposal right here:

"You've no reason to be afraid, James."  "You've no idea what I fear to lose, Miss Vanderpoel. I know of your love for Dunstanwolde, and your disdain for its condition– and of my love for it as well. If all I were offering was my land and my title, to watch from the sides as you touch all around me with your life, I'd give even that. But what I ask is something deeper. I do not ask you to love a sullied name or a crumbled ruin. I ask you to love the man who holds nothing besides them. I'm asking you to love me."

This one also ranks pretty high on the list, though:

 He wasn't the first man who'd proposed to her– but somehow she'd hoped all along that he would be the last.

(This, of course, has cannonical basis as well, as it's mentioned that both Lord Westholt and Sir Thomas proposed to her, and she turned them both down.)

And, anyways, there's my director's commentary! Thanks for reading!

[maskedemerald]

Writer Q&A Tag

Took a while but thanks @pb-dot for the tag! It got a little long but I really enjoyed doing this!

What motivates you to write?

My mind is nearly always churning with ideas and stories. If I left them there they would stage a rebellion. No but really I'm motivated to write because I love telling stories. I want to share those stories with others where I can. I'm always my first target audience and if I like it then there is sure to be someone else out there.

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work that you love (just please credit them)

Picking a bit of my writing is hard. I have scenes that I really like in all of my WIPs but its hard to choose something. Right now with my focus on A Curiosity Piqued the bit I would like to share most is my opening. I just feel it really sets well the frame of mind Aelfraed is in at the start.

Aelfraed had been hearing the snapping of the metaphorical thread for weeks, the weight of years of pressure pulling on him. Stretching fibres fraying. He was about to break.

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

I must betray Aelfraed right now, he isn't the character that makes me feel like this. It depends depends on the story. For A Curiosity Piqued it would be Ari but they don't show up for some time so Shhh... secrets. As for Magic Act I'd say it's Night. I love the mysterious over enthusiastic fae. I love how sinister they are without meaning to be and trying so hard to understand humans. Specifically Magician who they are currently helping to hide.

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

The drafting process. I like the flow and creativity that is involved. I'm distinctly less fond of editing and unfortunately editing is where I am at the moment with the first A Curiosity Piqued novella. Maybe I can change hating editing this time!

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I think the thing I do best when I'm writing is getting in the heads of characters. I find when I get really into a character's head for a scene the writing flows. My favorite though are the existential crises, if I haven't given a protagonist one its more I haven't given them one yet!

What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Honestly the tag games and asks. I love getting a tag or a question. It reminds me to talk about my project rather than just hide in a corner and write. It also sometimes has me thinking about things I hadn't considered before for a project!

Seriously I'll always be happy to see an ask or tag even if it takes me a while to get to it!

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I know a lot of people here will be mentioning Scrivener. Scrivener is great and I love using it but I really want to talk about the notebooks I use for discovery drafts. When it comes to the very very first draft of a story before I even have a proper outline I like to pick out a nice notebook that has something about it that feels inspiring for the story. Basically pretty notebooks inspire me and give me some feel for the mood of the story too. It also means I write with a certain level of no taking back what I have written which is great for fighting through that first draft. Once I've got that go with the flow stage done things get digital for making a proper outlined first draft.

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

The thing is I love world building, I could probably answer this for all the WIPs I have shoved under the rug in the corner that I have to keep sweeping back under if I want to focus on my main ones.

For A Curiosity Piqued it would have to be the magic system. I wanted a system with hard rules about what can be done and how, while still having a sense of mystery. That comes from treating it as a science. The society is experimenting and learning how magic works while also learning how other sciences work so that they can use that in their magic. The rule at its most basic is you have to have an understanding of how it works to do it magically. Traditional healing magic can seal a cut because they've seen it happen over time and know what helps. More advanced healing magic needs knowledge of the science of how the body heals that deeper or larger injury what the blood does, what the cells do, etc.

What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Don't be afraid to take breaks if you need them, burning out will not help.

Pick something in your project that makes you smile and write that next. Not got any. Drabble with your characters with tropes that make you smile. Like found family? Write a fluffy scene of your characters all together. It doesn't have to be something you use later just something to get you smiling about your project again. Get creativity flowing and the like.

It won't work for everyone but this it what helps for me when I'm struggling to find the motivation to write for a specific project.

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I smile when I see posts from @pb-dot , @scribe-of-stories , @jasperygrace , @card-queen and @squarebracket-trick I love reading about their work, the snippets they post and the talk about the writing process. I would recommend checking out their blogs and dropping them a follow!

Gently no pressure tagging the people above if they haven't already done this. I'd always love to hear more about what you are creating and the process! Also to anyone else that wants to do this!

[mawcewrites]

50k Challenge 2023!!!

Beginning WC: 6,684

Current WC (updated daily): 68,586

Goal WC: 56,684 (for November)

Total Goal WC: 80,000

My Goals This Month

Write 50k words towards WallpaperWIP.

Write at least every day, even if I don't make the daily wc.

Update my streak on the site every day.

HAVE FUN AND DON'T STRESS!

Also, in the hopes of keeping myself motivated, I'm going to be picking one line that I've written every day that I'm especially proud of, and posting them on my various social medias! I'll be keeping them updated on this post as well, though if you want prettier versions be sure to check me out on the camera and bsky app!

Please be aware of my content warnings for this project. It's going to be a dark journey, with a lot of dark topics. Please remember to stay safe and take care of yourself!

For more information on this year's project and how it's going, continue reading!

The Project

Project Name: Wallpaper WIP

Genre: Gothic Romance / Horror

Comps: Picture of Dorian Gray x Crimson Peak x The Yellow Wallpaper x The Invitation (2022)

Blurb: Wallpaper WIP is a polyamorous f/f/m exploration of the lines that separate love and madness, the importance of self-acceptance, and the beauty of life and death. It features a ghost being devoured by the wallpaper, a vampire who paints death and gore, and a human with a hunger he cannot control and a body he does not fit.

Content Warnings Include: past spousal abuse; cannibalism; blood play; BDSM themes; mental illness portrayed through romantic lenses; self-harm; suicide; murder; ritualistic sacrifices; religious trauma; kidnapping; non-consensual possession; consensual possession; intentional misgendering; transphobia and related hate crimes; disordered eating behaviors; blood and gore

These warnings are subject to change or be added to as I continue to write and expand the story. As always, should you see anything triggering or something you think should be included in these warnings, absolutely feel free to send me a message, or email me at mawcehanlinbooks@gmail.com. Please remember to be safe and take care of yourself!

My Favorite Lines So Far

Day 1 - "Forgive me father, for I am a gluttonous thing, and I hunger, I hunger, I hunger."

Day 2 - "In the hand of a master, an artist's tool can create life just as easily as it can cut creation from frame."

Day 3 - "My hunger grows harder to ignore on those days, and I often find myself stumbling from a stranger's bed before I have the chance to give in to the ache of my jaw and the itch of my teeth."

Day 4 - "I fear one day I will use all the ink in the world and still I will cut myself open to dip my pen in, as I would rather write in blood than not write at all."

Day 5 - "Instead of sound, only petals fall from my lips. Blue as the summer sky, stained red with the blood that once gave me life. I choke on them, spitting them from my lips and swallowing the rest down. Please, I want to cry. Please, don't let it take me. I do not wish to disappear.

Day 6 - "I want to say it back. I want to scream it, sob it. I want to say it over and over and over again until he tells me to stop, and then I want to say it again."

Day 7 - "To endanger one's self is to endanger the family, so we must be vigilant, always."

Day 8 - "What a beautiful little monster you are," I mutter, pressing my lips to his cheek this time, then to his eyelid, his nose, his jaw."

Day 9 - "God does not make rotten souls."

Day 10 - "I-" fed on human blood, I want to say. I need to say. The very thought of such an act is sinful, and yet I cannot find the strength to push the words out."

Day 11 - "With Admiration. A Darling."

Day 12 - "You are lost, little bird. Forgotten. Erased. There is nothing left for you but the emptiness of insanity. Let go. Give in."

Day 13 - "For as long as I can remember I have been hungry. I know that's a normal thing but...but not for me. Not for the things I hunger for."

Day 14 - "A single river of blood dribbles from his lips and carves a crimson trail down his chin and throat. I watch it for a moment, as he watches me, and before I can stop myself, I lean in to taste it. To taste him."

Day 15 - "They Never think it hurts, even as I am bleeding out at their feet and they are left begging forgiveness from my corpse."

Day 16 - "And like the namesake she chose for me suggests, I feel myself bloom in the radiance of her attention. Feel something inside me that long ago curled up to wither away alone, now spread its wings and begin to breathe again."

UPDATE!!!

Beyond all odds, I have finished the 50k Challenge early! I'm updating this a little late because honestly I just kept forgetting to update this post, BUT I DID IT! Thanks to my amazing best friend @eldritchflowerwriter who was crazy writing beside me, we managed to finish all 50k in only 17 days!

What does that mean for this project? Well, it's not quite finished yet. I'm planning on finishing the rest of my estimated 80k before the end of November. So wish me luck! I'll try and remember to keep this updated!

[mengyao]

4 for strike dear mistress, 12, 17, 22 for fowd, and 46!

4. What detail in strike, dear mistress are you really proud of?

oh jeez. there are a fair amount in there tbh, since it was me trying to cram all of my headcanons about JC pertinent to foowd that couldn't come across naturally via NHS POV into one piece of PWP, but i liked getting to dwell a bit on JC's whole concept of marriage and how miserable he imagines it must be if it's not with someone he's already actively in love with… If he did put effort into looking for candidates, he can’t imagine anyone angling their daughters at him for any reason besides his name and position. Not with his reputation. He’s not compelled by the prospect of being politely—or impolitely—tolerated under his own fucking roof. He remembers his parents. How difficult it is to share a life. he's not even really wrong because i can't imagine that marrying some random 20 year old at this point in time would be emotionally fulfilling for him lol. he's framing it in this scene as being about his Perverse Sexual Desires but that's not really the issue… tfw you got promoted to authority figure as a teen but you're a baby brother to the core :( and you just want someone to genuinely like you for you, not just respect and defer to you out of social obligation :(

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

i think the opposite experience is more common for me lmao but i'm sure this has happened before. let me think. hnmmmmm i'm still very picky about amnesia fics but kitsch's bingqiu amnesia fic you are who you love outsold!

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

[shaky deep breath] Beefleaf. Madoka Magica. Fusion,

i litchjerally don't have more details about this concept than a very vague moodboard about um. girls who become witches (who pretend they're girls). cosmic entropy. does this make shi wudu kyubey or is kyubey jun wu? who can say. this is all part of my compulsion to assign all of my faves with "homura akemi vibes" regardless of if this is a real thing that they have

22. Who is your favorite character in flight of a one-winged dove and why?

[rihanna mario tweet voice] nie huaisang baby! nie fucking huaisang!!!!!

the reasons i love nhs (and foowd nhs specifically) are manifold so i shant elaborate on them here besides to say that for me personally, the characters i feel the most affection for are the ones who have a lot of problems that they didn't create but then who go on to create a bunch more problems for themselves and others, and you understand why they did so and they probably think they had no choice but it's like hmmmmmmmmm girl but did you really. did you really,

i like to pity my favs. just a bit. but also i want them to be happy whether or not they deserve it. you know how it is

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

i hate writing on my phone because it's so un-ergonomic and i have an on-and-off repetitive stress injury so i try to minimize the amount of typing i do on there BUT i do find that i often make different connections or get different ideas about how to write things when i'm on a phone, just because you're physically looking at the words in a different way, they end up arranged on the screen differently, etc… the "shape" changes… you can see much less words at a time vs. opening up a page on a computer screen… so i often do nitpicky little line edits on my phone, especially if i'm just reading a draft/wip file over idly on the train or before falling asleep etc (both of which i do a lot.)

my desktop computer in my room is where i do either my best or my worst writing, because i either get super in the zone or i'm sitting there totally distracted by everything else i can do on my computer/in my bedroom and have no sense of the external accountability that i'd have in a public place, or even out at the desk in the living room where my roommates can pass back and forth (i'm pretty good at writing deranged stuff in a small font stonefacedly which is the only way this is able to work)

[dragonmasterhiccup]

“Now— now hold on! That’s not how this works! I’m fourteen, this is my prime! Your daughter being born doesn’t have anything to do with my age. I get it, you’re embarrassed about your elderly age, ashamed even, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me!” She crosssed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “I’d never thought you’d stoop this low, calling me old.” She looked back up at him, smirking. “You know what? When I turn your age, twenty-???, then you can bully me for being old, but only then, got it?”

“Ah, see, that’s when I come in and ruin that; once she gets older, you better believe I’m going to let her do stuff that you wouldn’t even dream of allowing her to do. I’ll be the cool, fun, aunt that she can do stupid s**- stuff, that she can do stupid stuff with.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hiccup, one minute you didn’t have a kid, next minute ya did, I’m sure that wouldn’t feel real to a lot of people. But yeah, the very obvious lack of sleep might have something to do with it too.”

She nodded firmly. “I know you will.”

“Well, yeah, I guess… I don’t know! I can still say ‘thanks,’ can’t I? You know, you should be glad, as far as you’re aware, manners from me are a rare occurrence…” They were becoming more common though, over time. She’d need to change that, her brother didn’t deserve the kindness she was displaying.

Danny smiled wide at that. She was starting to become an important part of Berk, and she loved it, it felt like she actually belonged! And, it was always nice hearing that someone was proud of her. “I guess I am, yeah! Though don’t be like that, I’m sure you had your doubts, I know everyone else probably did. But seriously, I’ve been having a great time these past few months, helping people out, it’s pretty nice!”

———

Once Astrid was clear to do archery again, Danny decided to go back as well; not as a student, as she had already graduated, but more as an assistant, helping her sister in law teach the new recruits [though some of those kids really got on her nerves, not as much as her trainee mates did, but still, she was fighting back the urge to punch them square in the face].

Danny also enjoyed getting to see her niece every once in a while, Zephyr may or may not have been quickly overtaking Hiccup as ‘favorite family member,’ though now that she thought about it, neither of them could top Valka, she was such a good mom. [Hiccup was a close second, but he was annoying, and ugly, and boring, and gross, and— well he was a lot of other things, that was just the shortened down version of it].

Seeing Hiccup and Zephyr, she immediately set down the crate she was carrying off to the side and made her way over to them, her smile wide. “Hey, Hiccup! And Zephyr.” She playfully waved at her niece. “Well, they, they’re going, that’s for sure. I asked Gobber for a favor, and he said yes, so he started giving me a tattoo!” She pulled up the wool coverings on her left forearm, revealing a small line that was starting to curve up her arm, along with what looked like the start of a few flowers. “It’s obviously not done yet, it’s probably gonna take a while, he was complaining about how ‘complicated’ it was, so I have to use a piece of coal to draw it on before he starts, but still, it’s going to be awesome!”

“How about you, and Zephyr? Is she having fun being attached to you all day long?” she asked teasingly.

"Elderly?! I'm twenty-two!"

He laughed. "Oh no, no, because then, you'll have to deal with Astrid, and because of that, I don't think you'll take Zephyr to do anything too reckless."

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

Zephyr, of course, had just woken up, and her eyes were only half open as she snuggled up against her dad.

Hiccup's eyes widened seeing the partial tattoo before nodding in approval. "Not bad so far! Watch out, though, I don't know if Gobber will be able to match your artistic talent. You know, he must really like you, he doesn't do favors for just anybody." He grinned. "You'll have to show me the finished tattoo."

"I think she is!" He beamed at his daughter before looking back at Danny. "I should bring her to work with me more often, she has a way of making things easier.

For instance, I had to settle a disagreement this morning. The two Vikings were practically at each other's throats when I got there. But, all I had to say was, 'Hey, I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to kill each other in front of my daughter,' and they settled down enough that I was able to get them to come to an agreement." He shook his head in disbelief. "It was amazing!"

Zephyr didn't seem to think much of this, though, because she let out a sleepy yawn, stretching her little fist up into the air before bringing it back down.

"I guess she's still waking up..."

[pientrop]

Who would have thought that wanting to do something is underrated?

I have found a word to describe the country - he said with a low volume as the noises of the metro diluted the sound of his voice. Uninspiring. What do you think? -he asked. I smirked. I felt tired, my eyes sore from the lack of rest and the looking at the computer all day that day. I like it - I said. Sam was right. What a character, one can find in this sort of place. In this shit-show as they say. Then he said he enjoyed the conversation. He said enjoyed. Then I ask, whether he was no longer enjoying it. He said, well now we're just chit chatting aren't we? I asked him if he regretted, fucking up, as he said he had done. He said, well I guess I've fucked many things up in my life, I must have a couple regrets. I asked if he had any tattoos as I thought about the classic "no ragrets" reference. He explained where the reference came from. He ended by saying, I guess I know my pop culture, don't I?. One of the very few honest conversations I've had in a while. In this country, especially. He must be in his late forties this guy and he can still have this sort of conversation. I mean, there's not necessarily an age for this sort of thing but I mean. He is impressive. Who would've known? Good-bye Baltimore, his composition, I wish I could hear it. I wish I could remember. I remember when he showed it to me, I didn't know I'd treasure this moment.

So much of what we don't know.

I spoke about love today, as it happens, to my lover. I told him love is like the stars, you can spend 100 days or more without even looking at them, without even thinking they are there. But if one night you want to see them, you just need to go out and look. They'll be as extraordinary as ever, if not even more.

I think i have succeeded for the first time a real good flavored curry. A vegan one. And I'm sorry if it sounds mundane, and it will, but I'm fucking proud of myself. For the curry and for the rest. For the conversation with Sam that was just another conversation of two people in the metro, it meant nothing, but for an instant it meant something, something important like all other things, as important. As important. Of being still here I'm proud. I read these words quite recently: No to death sentence but yes to the right to suicide. Respectful, but I don't have all of the context. It's in Giselle Halimi's book. "Farouche liberté".

I want to be a writer. Some people come late to this conclusion, I guess one could say I'm relatively late, but in this case, it is never too late, is it? It's my calling. I really want to do it, although maybe tomorrow this might change. Also, I can train making longer sentences, as the one I'm doing now, for instance, making them last for lines and lines, maybe pages, perhaps. I can also read. I can make short sentences, so much I can do.

And the curry is ready, don't get me wrong, I want to develop, I will. You don't know how tired I feel. But it's a blessing, as it is a curse. I though this today: life is miserable. People spend a third of their life working. Another third doing meaningless things. And the other third doing even less meaningless things. At the same time it is a blessing, but is it not a curse? That it is both?

Lastly, if you're reading this darling, I want to tell you that I love you, like I love the fresh air coming from the outside through my open window on a June evening in... this country. I love you like the song that's playing (Dans les rues de Paris, Nicolas Godin). Somewhere, for sure. It's crazy to say it but unanimous. Somewhere, someone, is listening to this song, and I love you so.

Cheers to all, and thanks to Sam, for the only genuine exchange of all in the Metro in this country. In thins uninspiring country. This inspired me to remember, I'm alive, I exist and I can write about it. About it all.

[clarionglass]

It has taken me literally two years from me promising to do this to it actually appearing, but! May I at long last present the inevitable continuation of this piece of glorious mad fiction, based on the equally-if-not-more-so glorious characters and scenario created by @teashoesandhair! Like with the first part, I had an absolute ball stepping up the ridiculous formality in writing this, and I hope upon hope it’s worth the wait :)

In the Demonic Style, a Good Omens Mandy AU: Part the Second

Lilith-Anne Brandy-Mason knew quite a lot about uncles. She lived with a pair of them, after all, in a well-apportioned flat in Mayfair, its rooms decorated in gold and silver and jewel tones and old wood. They were the ones who had bestowed such an unwieldy moniker upon her, and she loved them for it—because that’s what one does with uncles, even when they are slightly embarrassing, and slightly strange. And if there were any words with which a nearly-eleven-year-old girl should describe Messrs Brandy and Mason, “slightly embarrassing, and slightly strange,” would be exactly they.

They were her uncles, of course. She knew this, because that’s what they told her, every day: that they were her uncles, and they desired nothing but the very best for her. It was one of her earliest memories, their insistence on that point. She was small enough to still be wheeled in a perambulator, and the three of them had been stopped by a woman in her middle age, with an expression so sour that Lilith-Anne, now with over a decade’s life experience, could only imagine that she must have had an entire lemon tree growing through her from head to unmentionables. 

If she were to ask one of her uncles, she would be furnished with a much clearer recollection of the event. The angel Bryndael, known to humanity as Mr Brandy, could recall with ease the ugly sort of suspicion stamped across the woman’s features as she attempted to catch him and his demonic companion out in a perceived sordidness. A local busybody, she knew both of them by reputation, if nothing else, and was always eager to claim the moral high ground over any and all of her acquaintances.

“Mr Brandy?” she had asked sharply. “And Mr Mason? What are the pair of you doing with that child?” 

Bryndael’s panic was immediate and all-consuming. “I’m, well, we’re her—”

“Uncles,” Mr Mason—the demon Manoch—had interjected, sensing the angel beginning to fluster.

“Yes, her uncles,” he agreed, latching onto the word with relief.

The woman was unconvinced, most likely since she knew they were unrelated, and had sniffed a haughty sniff in their direction. “Both of you?”

Mr Mason merely nodded calmly, leaving Bryndael to pick up the pieces. “I’m her mother’s brother,” he had offered in conciliation.

“Father’s,” Mr Mason added. “And we are giving her the best of care in their stead.”

It was beautiful, the way in which a typically-demonic twisting of the truth could be used for such good, and Bryndael, loath as he was to admit it, was rather taken by the quick response—as he was by the way Manoch’s electric black gaze, the same one that had thrilled—no, horrified—him through the aeons, had remained so perfectly level. Somewhat less satisfied with the answer than he was, their interrogator had sniffed her sniff once again, but had still returned to her own turn about the neighbourhood without further protest.

Lilith-Anne hardly remembered the event in such minute detail, due to only being a year old at the time, but it had nevertheless impressed upon he the importance of her relationship to the two gentlemen whose care she was under. They were her uncles, despite her being well and truly old enough to realise she looked nothing like either of them. People don’t have to look like their uncles, of course, but they were the closest family she had, and Lilith-Anne was still slightly put-out by the lack of familial resemblance. 

What made the whole ghastly situation worse, in her mind, was that she had never seen any pictures of her parents, despite the recent blossoming of the photographic art. Her uncles were very firm on that point—her parents had perished in a fire shortly after her birth, and Lilith-Anne suspected the wound that such a tragedy had caused would never fully heal. Mr Brandy was still prone to tearing up at any mention of his sister—“That poor woman,” he would murmur, blue eyes filling, “that poor, poor woman,”—and Mr Mason’s brother was, according to his dark and curiously fearful mutterings, “most likely still burning.” 

Even so, she would have liked to see some photographs of her parents. She was certain she must favour someone in her family, and for years had been quite determined to find out who this person would be. Many people who visited the teashop owned by the Brandy line for decades mentioned that the resemblance in that pedigree was quite strong, with father and son always apparently looking remarkably alike, and she was rather peeved the likeness had passed her by. Still, without any further clues, she suspected she must take after her mother, and was content enough to labour under that suspicion.

Not that Lilith-Anne Brandy-Mason would have cause to know as much, but she did in fact bear a startling resemblance to someone, or rather, a set of someones: a Mr and Mrs Young of Tadfield, a small village far from the bustle of London, and their daughter, a girl of a similar age to Lilith-Anne. A third golden-haired young lady, who rivalled Lilith-Anne for cumbersome appellations with the name of Theodora H. Dowling (a suitable title for the child of the ambassador from the new United States of America), also shared with them a certain similarity of appearance. The three young ladies also shared a similarity of birthdate and time—down to the very minute, as a matter of fact—a curiosity that nobody had noticed, save for the deity who had arranged it.

Now, if we were to imagine the God of this universe, we should imagine a baker twisting three strands of brioche dough into a plaited loaf, over and under in an incomprehensible pattern. The strands had already been twisted, and the interventions of Messrs Brandy and Mason, reaching into the pattern to tug on the wrong strands, only tangled them further. As it previously stood, to run with the brioche metaphor, Heaven and Hell merely saw a twist, not a braid, where:

The dough contributed by the Dowlings and started on the left side of the loaf, which we will call Strand A, had been cast aside to the right.

The dough contributed by the Youngs, which we will call Strand B, did not exist. 

The dough that has started on the right, which we will call the Anticrust, the Great Yeast and destroyer of celiacs, had been twisted to the left. 

In actuality:

Strand A had indeed been cast aside to the right.

Strand B, which had started in the middle, was now on the left.

The Anticrust, the Great Yeast and destroyer of celiacs, had been plaited into the middle. 

And with a few more plaits, with the “help” of Bryndael and Manoch:

Strand A, from the Dowlings, was now back in its starting position on the left. 

Strand B, from the Youngs, was on the right, where two man-shaped beings had their eyes on it.

The Anticrust, the Great Yeast and destroyer of celiacs, was still, unbeknownst to everyone, in the middle, Strand B's original position.

But nobody, save the baker herself, could tell which strand of dough ended up where. 

Still, this wasn’t important—not for the moment, anyway, as it had been ten years and three hundred and sixty days since that particular loaf had gone into the divine oven of life, and although it was reaching the point of being done, so to speak—Armageddon would become a very pressing engagement in a mere five days’ time—the point of greatest current concern to Messrs Brandy and Mason was the time of their young charge’s upcoming Latin tutorial.

“I keep telling you, it’s at three,” Mr Brandy insisted from the hallway, in the tones of someone who had continued this argument for a very long time indeed.

“Four,” Mr Mason countered for perhaps the fiftieth time.

“Sometimes I swear you argue just to be contrary,” the angel fussed.

“Do not,” Mr Mason argued.

“Do so,” Bryndael returned, before cutting himself off to glare at his companion.

Mr Mason just smiled, sharp and roguish, before sobering. “I’m not joking about Lily’s tutorial, though. The tutor changed it last week, remember?”

Bryndael frowned suspiciously. “It’s just like you to insist on being late.”

“Only fashionably.” 

“One cannot be fashionably late to a Latin tutorial!” Bryndael squeaked. 

Mr Mason raised a strong and perfectly-formed eyebrow with a smirk. “One can be fashionably late to anything, if one just tries hard enough.”

“Well, I don’t want to try!” Bryndael protested. “And neither does Lily!”

“You’re not going to back down, then?” Mr Mason asked coolly. The answer was already known to him, but nevertheless, there had to be a formality to these things.

“Of course not!” 

“One of us has to be correct,” Mr Mason pointed out, irritatingly reasonably. “And if you won’t believe me, there’s only one way to determine it.”

Bryndael sighed, a little huff that carried overtones of both petulance and anticipation. “Well. If you insist.”

Lilith-Anne Brandy-Mason knew quite a lot about uncles. It came with the territory, so to speak. However, she was fairly sure that between them, her uncles harboured more than a few peculiarities. Most people, if they were possessed of two uncles, did not receive a thorough instruction in the Good Book and the various figures through history who most embodied its teachings from one, and an equally rigorous tutelage in Machiavellian politics and the lives of ruthless conquerors from the other. Most people with uncles weren’t bade goodnight with two gentle kisses on the forehead, which accompanied the reminders to “crush your enemies beneath your heel, Lily,” and “treat all forms of life with the greatest respect and dignity, my dear.” Nor did most people’s uncles call each other “dear boy” or “angel,” particularly not in the public arena.

And she was almost certain that other people’s uncles didn’t settle their disagreements by smooching—or at least, not quite as passionately as the way in which Messrs Brandy and Mason were currently engaged. If they did, she had never seen it. By contrast, she had seen this particular scene more times than she could count, having often been called upon to adjudicate such contests.

After the twentieth minute, with no sign of the “victory” she had been taught to look for—but had never actually seen, not in any of the smooching contests she had witnessed—she cleared her throat significantly. 

“It’s at half-past three, actually,” she said loudly. “Uncle Mason is right, Mister Huddlesthwaite did postpone my lesson, but only by half an hour.”

She watched, unsurprised, as her uncles parted with no small amount of reluctance. They used to spring apart with something approaching guilt, back in the days when their disagreements were over what Lilith-Anne recalled as much weightier issues, but now, the gentle unclasping of lip from well-smooched lip seemed to take almost as long as the contest itself. 

“Oh, is that right?” Mr Mason asked, straightening his cravat with a carefully innocent hand.

“Dear me, how could I have forgotten?” Mr Brandy fussed as he smoothed his curls, then extracted an ornate silver pocketwatch from his waistcoat. “We’ll need to be off in—” 

A lesser being than the angel Bryndael would have yelped upon realising how late he had let the time grow, thoroughly distracted as he had been by the caressing hands and wickedly clever tongue of his opponent in smooching. Even so, the noise of entirely dignified surprise that escaped him brought a devilish smile to the soft lips he knew so… professionally intimately, and his head once again was filled with images he did not care to dwell on. 

“Now, my dear, now, come on!” he exclaimed, deliberately putting those warm thoughts out of his mind, and Lilith-Anne, who had been ready for the last fifteen minutes, carefully concealed a sigh as she was bundled out of the door. 

She did not notice as Bryndael paused for a moment on the steps that led down to the street, looking back towards his companion of the last eleven years, and the millennia besides. 

“Dear boy, was that really necessary?” he asked, the faint spark of confusion in his eyes lighting them the warm blue of summer skies. “If Lily knew the time of her tutorial already? I mean, we could have just asked her, yes?”

Mr Mason merely raised a shoulder in a laconic shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he pulled the door shut behind them.

--

And far away in Tadfield, at that very moment, Eve Young reached a gleeful hand for the reddest, shiniest, most tempting apple from her neighbour’s tree, and, with the smallest of snaps, it separated gladly from its bough.

[moscnios]

hey !! could i request strawhat pirates with a teen reader who’s really elegant and stuff? she’s just really kind and sweet and sort of princessy?

okay so i thought this rq worked better with headcanons. and i usually don't write headcanons because i don't think i'm good at them. but i wanted to take a stab at it. ( if it's bad...i am so sorry )

THE STRAW HATS W / PRINCESSY TEEN READER+ / ☻

Now for the Straw Hats to even consider letting such a young girl join the crew, you must be incredible strong...or you showed Luffy something semi-cool and he wanted you to be apart of the crew. 

Let’s be honest, he’s easily impressed. 

You could do that finger trick where it looks like you can take off your thumb and Luffy is BEYOND EXCITED and wants you to teach him how to do it.

But moving on, you’re part of the crew.

I imagine it is fairly hard at first getting used to the sudden change and being surrounded by a crew of pirates. Your elegant, well-mannered behavior will probably clash a lot with just about everyone, except Nami, Robin, and Sanji.

Being another girl on the crew, Nami and Robin would always be there for you and be the ones to help you truly get used to the crazy antics of your new crew.

Nami loves to take you shopping. She doesn’t mind spending money on you because she finds you so adorable. Of course, she’ll end up being cheap and haggling vendors. And will somehow successfully get away with it.

Nami is also the one who keeps everyone else in line around you to make sure a certain someone isn’t bothering you. By someone, I mean Sanji. She wastes no time to defend you from his ogling.

Robin with her mother-like instincts will immediately take to you and would probably be the one you spend the most time with. Whether it be reading together, playing board games, or anything else you like, she enjoys her moments with you.

She can also be pretty protective of you if she feels something is too dangerous for you to handle. She will voice her concerns and if you don’t heed her warning and get into danger, she will save you herself.

There’s been one too many dangerous things you have been talked into doing by your captain, needing Robin to help you. She just doesn’t want to see you hurt. She understands you are young and you want to experience a lot, but it doesn’t stop her from worrying.

Speaking of your captain.

Luffy will want to spend a lot of time with you and will try to understand your attitude and will want to try it out for himself. But he will quickly realize how much it is not for him.

He has probably tried on your clothes more times than he can count. He thinks he looks cute in them.

Luffy will 100% rub off on you. There’s no way you’ll stay the exact same after staying on a ship with him and the others for some time.

Sanji HATES when you spend time with Luffy. Not that he’s jealous ( he most absolutely is ) but he hates that Luffy is little by little turning you into a hooligan. It broke his little heart when you stopped referring to him with honorifics. He cried.

Originally, Zoro had no opinion of you. You were his crewmate, nothing more nothing less. Getting Zoro to open up to you was harder than the others, who were accepting to you pretty early on. Your kindness alone wasn’t enough for him.

However, asking to spar with him will get his attention. If it becomes a regular thing, he’ll look forward to your sessions and truly wants you to put up a good fight. He’s a bit harsh on you, but he does it out of tough love.

He doesn’t say it often, but he is very proud of you.

Chopper and Usopp trying to be elegant with you and saying formal words incorrectly. Having tea parties and playing dress up on the deck of the Sunny.

And Franky being upset that he wasn’t invited so you spend a good 30 minutes trying to get him in a suit jacket and arguing with him about how he needs to put on pants because fancy guys wear pants...he refuses. But he lets you style his hair instead.

And of course the rest of the Straw Hats attend these tea parties with Brook playing soft music. However, they’re always ruined by Luffy...but you always end up laughing.

© MANGEKYUOU. / ☻

[weebsinstash]

Ignore me, but I'm Proud of you Weeb. It took a lot but you did it. I know it's easy to feel negative about the situation, but **please be kind to yourself** and remember you saw the warnings, didn't ignore them, and removed yourself from the situation that was making you uncomfortable. And that's a good thing. You did right by you, I hope that makes you proud too.

Now that the situation has passed and I look at it in hindsight, I knew something was fishy the entire time but was essentially bullying myself into continuing the interaction out if some misplaced uncalled for guilt. Like jesus st one point he said something like "I also enjoy video games" and i was like???? Not many "24 year olds from Florida" speak like that, ya know. I bounce back and forth between being midwestern/southern to being more formal and eloquent but like I at least? Don't structure my sentences like a fucking robot?

The entire time I was thinking "theres no way you actually want a relationship when you're telling me literally nothing about you like the literal most you're after must be nudes or something". and did you notice when I typed that paragraph at him about being sus he only answered the two specific things I had used as an example of basic details he wasnt sharing about himself, and he then offered nothing more, and even changed the subject to how I was typing a lot?

and even after he made that comment here I fucking am "explain to him why that's weird. Maybe he literally doesn't understand" so I think I quite literally said things along the lines of "if im typing a lot its because I am confused by what you want or are trying to do here" and just. Like im speaking to a fucking gradeschooler.

Like here's how I would like idk "in his shoes" kind of advertise myself to someone, or at least open up the conversation: "hi! I noticed we had a lot in common so I wanted to say hello and maybe get to know you a little better! :)" His opening line to me was literally "Hello.. What's good?" two periods bad grammar and everything. His speech read as very "English as a second language" to me which I only bring up because, YEAH HE WAS DEFINITELY CASING ME LIKE A SCAMMER, asking me my hours, my wage, trying to calculate my income!

Oh mother fucker! Him saying he's unemployed may also be part of the scam! "Oh im unemployed please tell me about your job and your wages because I'm looking around" LIKE THAT'S WHAT I ASSUMED? I really am too fucking kind sometimes. He was trying to figure out my income and my potential as a cash cow. Dude I work in fucking retail, you think I have money to send you?

But that's how these sorts of people get you, isn't it? They find out you're vulnerable or lonely or kind or all of the above and they make you attached to them and then suddenly "oh my god im in horrible debt and idk what to do please help me 🥺" or "oh no I had a horrible accident can you please send me money to help while I recover". It's not always so outright as simply asking to borrow money

Anyways. God. I guess it shows I'm always trying to be empathetic, if not to my own detriment. I've just been struggling so much for so long that I try to be nice when I can. People don't deserve to be miserable. Unless you're an asshole. Then you're on my list.

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.II)

Hello again! I hope your having an amazing day, night, or morning! Don't forget to drink water!

Warnings: mention of Alcohol, swearing

Words: 5,951

   The time spent on the ship was long, tiring and freezing. The weather danced between rain, sleet, snow, and hail. Complete opposite of what conditions you were used to. But thankfully land was just up ahead. The ever changing weather shifting finally for snow. As the snow danced in the sky you couldn't help notice the beauty, back at your village snow was basically never seen. unless you went to the higher elevations that is.

   As you approached the tiny harbor the captain made it very clear he would not be staying. He was here to drop you off and leave, not wanting to stay long at the Empire. This had you chewing your lip, finding your way home would be up to you at the end of this. Which wouldn't be so bad usually, but you didn't know anyone. So it was bad.

   When they docked you took your things. The sword carefully wrapped up and strapped to your back, your bag sitting atop it. you'd be damned if your going to loose that blade now that you were finally at your destination. You carefully got off the boat with a little help from a crew member. Trying not to fall from the ice already forming.

   The first thing you could notice about the land was the unfamiliar sharp smell in the air of winter. It was absolutely freezing. You pulled your cloak around you more, slowly making your way to the small village. The land definitely wasn't welcoming. Besides the village there was just plain barren land, draped with light fluffy snow. The village was however quaint. Logged cabins stood as a contrast against the white snow. Smoke rose up into the air by winding, and straight chimneys. Looking around at the village almost looked like a nice painting. But when you look up you realize the quaint little village was surrounded by ice spikes. They looked as if the gods had thrown them as spears, impaling the earth. Although beautiful, the thought of one of them crashing down on you, had you weary.

   The people were the second thing you noticed. They were mostly hybrids, but humans were also seen wondering about. As you walked away from the harbor more people came into view. The people were so beautiful, it almost took you by surprise. Tucked beneath large fur lined cloaks you could see a similarly of sharp featured faces. Even the human hybrids looked ethereal, ranging from tall divine Enderman, Piglins, animals, your sure you even saw a Shulkerbox.

   The once quiet humming streets were soon differentiated by a loud buzzing noise that shook you from your admiring state, your turned to see rather large... things? The things you were looking at were made out of metal, that much you could easily see. A bright blue painted sun sat on the side. The signa of the Antarctic Empire. On the top of the metal contraption there were wings. Two of them, spanning way out on the sides. The things slowly circled until they landed in the barren field. There were four of them, all of them slowly landing one at a time. Slowly they moving to the village edge. You sat and watched with curiosity until the buzzing had stopped.

   At this point you realized how cold you were. You tore your eyes away from the metal contraptions. Looking around for a place to seek warmth. You saw a Bar up ahead and instantly knew that would be the best place to start. Walking over, minding the large banks of snow, you pushed the door open. Instantly you met with a rush of warm air. A smile fell on your lips, man you missed that feeling. Being on the boat they only had lanterns, and you better believe that did not keep you warm. You pushed in further. Looking around for a seat, the only ones you could find were at the Bar it self. Setting your bag by your feet, sword still strapped to your back you climbed onto the stool. You couldn't help but look around at the décor. Behind the bar, the shelfs were covered with random bottles and bottles of liquor. Some almost gone and some not even opened yet. The walls were lined with mounts from hunts, elk, deer, the occasional game animals. The one that shocked you was the bear. Back at your village bear was not local, so seeing a mount of one, and the sheer size they were was kind of terrifying.

   The bar it self was mostly filled with men and the occasional women. Some people were gambling, but most were just drinking and laughing. Enjoying each others company. After summing the atmosphere up you turned to the bartender and offered a shy smile.

   "Wha'd you like?" He asked, his voice was deep and gruff. He was dressed very nice, a vest with a white button up. His hair combed back, he looked like he was ready for a date with someone. He had a hard face, but did offer a smile.

   "Whatever you recommend?..." You asked a bit sheepishly. He smiled wider, nodding before he turned his back. Starting to prepare your drink. You took your time to look around more. The wood of the bar under your hands was nice, kinda reminded you of sitting back at the kitchen table with your family. Your family. The thought of them pained you. After being away for a bit you came to see how much of a homebody you really were. Your mothers kind smile, morning coffee with your father, the roosters crowing to alert the farmers of morn. The smell of dew on the grass. The sigh that escaped your lips was one of lonesome.

   Unbeknownst to you, a stranger had entered the bar. The quiet chatter soon died down to nothing. A few groups of people even decided to leave the bar as a whole. The strange man, a tall one for sure, pulled out the stool and sat next to you. With him came three men as well. All were dressed in high ranking military attire. Combat boots adorned there feet well heavy cloaks draped there shoulders. Beneath the cloaks something was definitely poking up towards the ceiling. The fur that lined the cloaks was not mere rabbit or minx. It was big, and definitely fluffy. But oh so warm. The fourth man, the strange tall man, stood out. He was in a heavy cloak as well, but also in robes of green instead of blues. He wore a white hat with green stripes. His face had a bit of stubble, but it looked nice. His hair was sandy blonde, with fairly straight locks. It was a tad on the longer side, but he had it pulled into the hat mostly. Only a braid and a bit of bangs poped out the front. Besides the normality of his appearance, the thing that stuck out were his Great wings. There were the color of a raven, but on a much greater scale.

   "Hello" His voice rang though as he addressed the bartender. This caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts of your parents. Looking to the men you had immediately noticed the military attire, it was unsettling to say the least. You glanced away, feeling like you shouldn't be looking at them. The atmosphere had grown tense. Deciding to face down instead of the new company, you noticed the bartender had set a drink in front of you. The liquid was clear, unsure if it was water however due to a weird strong burning smell.

   Your attention was drawn back to the man again, he whispered something to the three military men before they left with a swift nod. for some reason the military men were more terrifying than the man next to you. At there leave, the blonde gentleman was alone at the bar. His gaze met with your curious one.

   "Hello there little one" he said gently. His voice was kind, and light hearted. The smile that laced his lips was nothing near malicious.

   "Hello" with your reply you gave a light nod. Still a little unsure.

   "You don't look like your from around here" He must have known, or judged your lack of warmer heavier clothes. You could only nod in agreement. "What brings you to the Empire? You hav'ta be fucking stupid to come here for a vacation" he mused, his sight chuckle was warm to hear. You couldn't help but smile a bit at his contagious one.

   "I actually came to deliver this sword to the Empire.. I'm just uncertain how to get to the capital" his interest almost visibly double.

   "Really now" He removed his hat. Setting it aside, you could see a hanging emerald from his ear. "Did you make the sword yourself?" He took his drink and easily downed the whole thing, facing you for curiosity. Wherever he came from he was obviously very thirsty.

   "I did actually, I'm quite proud of it too.. i believe its the best one ive made yet" your smile grew wider. He hummed as he set the glass down with a light 'tink'. He shrugged his outer cloak off. You took note of how the slits were made to form around the massive wings.

   "Not many women smith's out there, if your blade is chosen i hav'ta think its a pretty damn good one. Do you have your letter?" He inquired. You nodded. Leaning down, sifting through your things. Pulling out the neatly folded letter. You gently handed it to him. His hands were gloved with thick black leather, guarding what you assume is his hands from the climate. He opened the letter and glanced it over, his eyes lingering the seal. "Well I'll be damned. Alrighty then. Do you need a ride by chance?" You tilted your head a bit. Taking the letter back.

   "A ride?" He chuckled, Nodding to you.

   "You don't have a idea where the capital is do you?" You shook your head slowly. Feeling a little foolish now. "Hey, hey. I didn't mean it rudely. Your not familiar around here. I gotta swing by the capital after this stop. I could give you a ride if you would like. Save ya' a lot of trudging in the snow.".

   "Oh! R-right!" You nodded. "Please id actually really like that".

   "Perfect, we can leave whenever you'd like. Although I recommend we leave soon. Flying at night is a fuckin' nightmare" he stated.

   Your brow furrowed. "Flying? You mean with your wings?".

   "No mate, I mean with the plane". He leaned in his chair. Folding his hands on his lap. His strong blue eyes never waved away from yours. When he leaned back you noticed a long hilt attached to his hip. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to the hilt.

   "What's a plane?" You asked curiosity lingering your voice. He laughed a deep chested laugh. Only making you feel a bit stupid at your question now. When he noticed you weren't joking he went surprised.

   "Oh your actually serious. Erm.." he paused a bit. Trying to think. "Where exactly do you come from?" He asked. Leaning closer to you now. His brows were slightly knit together in confusion.

   "Oh.. I uhm. came from a small village out in Madagascar." You watched him as you moved your hands to your lap.

   "You haven't seen a plane?" He asked again. Almost just to clarify that if you were joking, this would be the time to out yourself. You shook your head. "Hunh. Well then.." he said Shrugging. "Fair enough. Here come with me." He said as he stood, brushing his hair back before placing his cap on. He patted his coat a bit. You watched. Assuming he meant for you to stand was well. "Shit.." he mumbled. You realized he was looking for money.

   "Oh- here I got it" you dug in your pocket and handed a few coins over to the bartender. The blonde watched. Almost mentally taking note. The bartender gave you a weird look when you handed the money over.

   "You didn't drink your glass miss" you looked down and realized. You took it and took a sip expecting water. It wasn't water. You nearly spit it out. But swallowed instead to spare the embarrassment. The blonde man laughed at your face as it contorted into disgust. It burned the whole way down your throat, filling your body with a quick glow of warmth. The stranger took the glass from you and took a wif, laughing more before easily downing it.

   "Good to know vodka doesn't agree with you" he said still laughing. You watched as he set the glass down, pulling his cloak on. Well you grabbed your things you looked up and noticed he had a signa of the empire on it.

   "Why does it burn so much?.." you asked, wishing you never took that sip. He mused at you well you two walked side by side together.

   "Ah, don't worry so much on it. I have actual water in the plane you can have" he walked towards the metal contraption with you. At this you assumed this was a 'plane'. Gods was it big.

   "How does it fly?" You asked looking it over in curiosity. He only hummed before answering.

   "Its actually really simple. The propeller in the front will spin and gets air going. Once there's enough momentum it will pull the plane forward, i just steer it up and we will glide." He explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You didn't quite fully understand. But something told you he didn't expect you too. He climbed up and asked for your bag. Placing it in the plane where there were two seats. After your bag was situated he offered you a heavy cloak. It was lined with thick fur. "Your going to want this. It gets cold in flight. You nodded and pulled it on your shoulders. Instantly feeling the warmth and heaviness the cloak brought. You saw his hand come down reaching for yours. "Here let me help you up" his hand was firm and definitely a strong one. Pulling you up like it was nothing. Once you were on the wing of the plane he helped you steady yourself. He grabbed your waist without warning and lifted you up like a child. "Go ahead and step in- Mind your feet though, step on the seat and then sit" you fallowed his instructions. Feeling his grip slip from your waist as you sunk into the cockpit. You took note at how low you sat in the seat, there were buttons and two weird looking things beside you. They were long and bulky, you wouldn't touch them since you obviously had no idea what they did. He easily hopped into the front seat well he folded his wings carefully. Being mindful of the limited space the seats offered.

   "I never caught your name" you said looking up to the back of the man.

   "Oh that's right, I'm Philza. What's your name?" He asked as he turned his head towards you a bit.

   "Nice to meet you Philza, I'm (y/n)" he smiled more fallowing it up with him being pleased to meet you. "If I can ask. What are these?" You inquired. Pointing to the bulky long things next to you.

   "Oh those are my rifles'" he stated simply. You blinked in slight confusion. 'Rifles? The hell's a Rifle?' Your silence gave away your confusion. "Its a Gun. A type of weapon. Its faster than a bow and just as dangerous" you gave a little 'oh' in response. "The safety is on. It cant hurt you, I promise" he stated as he started up the plane. The loud buzzing starting up. "I usually fly alone, unless I'm with Tech. This should he interesting" he said with a wide smile. You felt the plane lurch before it moved. On instinct you gripped your seat. You were forced back as the plane lifted up from the ground. You couldn't help but watch as the little village grew smaller. You soon got awfully high, it was frightening to say the least. But something told you the man driving wouldn't let anything hurt you. Philza carefully maneuvered around the giant ice spikes. Flying with ease like a bird. "Go ahead and get comfortable. We'll be a slight bit" you saw him adjust in his seat, presumably getting more comfortable. You glanced the ground again before sinking into your seat yourself. Pulling the cloak around you more, enjoying the warmth it brought you. The loud buzz made you realize you were honestly quite tired. Well you were on the ship you worked from dawn until past dusk. Feeling no forceful urge to do anything currently, you let the gentle rock of the plane lull you to sleep.

   "Aye, kiddo?" You herd someone call, nudging you a slight bit. You shifted, realizing you were in a seat. Memories from before your nap rushed forward as you opened your eyes, wiping the sleep from them. Phil sat with a smile as he stood on the wing of the plane. "Took a nap i see. Don't blame you, c'mon lets get you inside." Your eyes flickered around, sleep still lingering making your eyes heavy. It was now nighttime, and Phil was right the temperature does drop when the sun goes down. "Were at the palace" he said as he took your shoulders. Lifting you up like a child again. Setting you on the wing of the plane. You held onto his arm to steady yourself.

   "Palace?" You mumbled. Still trying to wake up more. Phil just gave a hum and a firm nod before handing you your bag, and the blade. He stepped off the wing and helped you down. You thanked him and looked around in awe. You were in a large open room. Planes were lined up everywhere, it honestly was amazing.

   "Fallow me" he stated. Smiling at you as he made his way across the floor. You fallowed, walking around the lined up planes. Soon you two found a corridor. The walls were made of whites, greys, blues and the occasional green-blue-ish tint. Pillars lined the corridors, as small candle lit chandeliers illuminated them. Shadows dancing with the flick of the flame. The floors were carpeted down the middle. White marble on the outsides. The dark oak details contrasted all the white so beautifully.

   "Dadza!!" You herd a child yell. You turned with Phil to see a boy no older than 12 with brown hair running to phil. His curls bounced as he ran, his wide smile shining. The child, was more than beaming with love as he threw himself into Philza's arms.

   "Hi bud" Phil had bended down to the Childs size. Hugging him close to his chest. As he smiled back at the child before he explained to you. "(Y/n), this is my son Wilbur" you gave a nod as Wilbur waved cheerfully. Hugging tightly to his father. Phil rested his hand on top of Wilbur’s head, ruffling the curls. You didn't think he was a father, but somehow now that you see him with a child- his son to be exact. How he treated you now, and back at the bar, makes sense now.

   "Tech, said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!" Wil said cheerfully, having a awful lot of energy for the time of night. Wil was honestly an adorable child. He was tall, thin, but very well dressed. Golden glasses rested on his nose, his attire consisted of a white button down, and simple black pants. his sleeves were rolled up slightly, showing he was working. happy enough to say, you could tell he was well taken care of. You herd the name 'Tech' get thrown around again. You herd Phil mention that name before you fell asleep, but it never really stuck out.

   "Did he now" the boy hummed in agreement. "Did he also scold you for being out of bed?" Phil lifted a brow challengingly to Wil. His tone taking on a more strict role. In response Wil merely shrugged. 

“He may have mentioned it.” Wil’s tone was casual, it also showed that he didn't take Phil’s tone too seriously. Phil in turn just rolled his eyes with a sigh.

   We came to two tall wooden doors. A guard opening one at the sight of Phil, and Wilbur. You still weren't sure how, or why, you were in the palace. Nor how no one questioned your presence. You didn't feel like questioning much. Feeling like you were far out of the loop quite honestly.

   Past the doors was a medium sized circular room. In the center stood a tall man. His shoulders were wide and brawn. He had a boar's skull as a mask. The tusk's adorned with jewelry. His ears were well pierced with golden chains and tiny diamonds. You caught that like Phil, the man had a single emerald earring. He definitely stood out to say the least. He had pink hair, neatly pulled into a ponytail. Braids shown through his hair, offering a contrast to the soft flowing pink. On one braid he had a black feather attached. His clothes shown a higher status. He had a white button down that was slightly undone at the top, you saw reading glasses attached on a chain that hung around his neck. A red sash sat wrapped around his waist, pulling together the white and black he wore. He had a larger sword strapped to his waist, the hilt of the sword was long and adorned with gold. His black pants were neatly tucked into his boots. He stood arms crossed. Almost like he was expecting Phil.

   "Eh?.." was all he said when he saw you and phil.

   "Ah Techno. I see your still awake too" the man called 'Techno' gave a nod to phil. "(Y/n), this is my other son, Technoblade" you looked from Phil, to Wil, and then to techno. There was a age gap between the boys, but you couldn't tell the exact age. Techno’s stature made you assume he was much older. since he was taller than Phil, not by much however."(Y/n) is here for the weapon call. She has her letter if you would like to see" Phil explained to techno. Instead of a response techno merely faced you. You were not able to see his eyes or much of a expression. Only his jaw was seen since the boar skull had no lower jaw. Techno's jaw however sat in a stoic, locked placement. Soon his monotone voice came through. It was low, smooth and captivating.

   "You came for the weapon call?" He questioned, his voice, nor his stance wavered. the closer you got to Techno you saw how broad he was built. His shoulders looked as if he could have supported anvil’s on them. His stature and his voice made him very menacing. You gave a slight nod. Techno only faced you shortly before he faced Phil again. "I'll test the weapon tomorrow." He stated plainly. You saw Phil nod his head in agreement.

   Phil faced you next "We have a spare room you can stay in" he flashed you a warm smile. Techno stood beside him, contrasting the warmth you felt from Phil. Techno however, did step back to allow you to fallow Phil. Techno never looked away from you. He was facing you well you passed. It unnerved you a little, you couldn't see his eyes, but man you could tell he was staring at you. The thought of how one man could have a happy smiling boy, and then one that stuck fear into you for simply breathing his air didn't make a lick of sense. Scary or not you would give it to Techno. He made terrifying look nice.

   The palace was larger than you expected, but still beyond elegant. Wil wondered beside Phil casually. Thinking on the ‘Weapon Call’ you decided now was a good time to bring it up. well fallowing Phil down the beautiful corridors you spoke up.

   “is there anyone else here?” you watched Phil’s back. Well walking the halls he had removed his cap, so you were at least able to see his expression a bit. from what you could see he was pondering his answer.

   “Yeah.. Yeah, no we’ve had others here for it” the suggestion of ‘had’ made your brows knit together. Wil shot a glance back to you before glancing his father. Phil must have took this as a chance to explain. “we had a few people show, they couldn't beat the test however.” his tone was casual. the idea of a test made your stomach drop. ‘what kind of test?’, ‘what will they do to the blade?’, ‘what happens if I fail?’, questions raced your mind. 

   “t...test?” you worded it hesitantly, only earning a hum of agreement. 

   “techno is very peculiar on what he wants in a sword. it has to fit to his strength and his taste.” Phil paused briefly, “Sadly no sword so far, has been strong enough to withstand his strength.”. oh you could have died on the spot at that. that was the equivalent of ‘Oh yeah, thanks for coming thousands of miles. here's your participation ribbon’. the only response you could muster was a simple ‘Oh’. At your response Wil turned to face you, walking backwards. 

   “Don't feel discouraged, techno can be a mighty dick when he wants to be-” at that you stifled a laugh as he was swatted upside the head by Phil.

    after the light comment from Wil, the three of you fell into silence. occasionally you saw a painting or two, one did stand out though upon passing. There was a beautiful woman, she looked kinder than any woman you’ve seen to be honest. In her arms was a baby, wrapped up and peacefully asleep. By her arms stood Phil, he had a kind, warm smile. Your eyes moved down the painting. in between the couple stood a young child, he had pink hair and a shy smile. he looked like a sweet kid, you could automatically assume who the family was just from the child and Phil.

   Soon the room came to view. it was at the end of the corridor, which honestly didn't bother you. The thought of a comfortable bed  had you more excited than you cared to admit. Phil opened the door for you. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. breakfast is around six to ten.” Phil and Wil watched you walk in, looking around in awe at the glorious room. “I’ll have a maid get you some warmer clothes too. If your staying for a bit I can promise you will want something heavier than what you have.” You turned back to face him a thankful smile on your lips.

   “Thank you...” you were so thankful. You knew you would have to find a way to make it up to them for letting you stay. Especially without the permission of the Emperor. Phil nodded and bid a goodnight with Wil at his side. When you herd the door ‘click’ shut you couldn't help but look around again. So much had happened in under 24 hours that processing it all was hard. What started as meeting a strange man in a bar, turned into staying at the palace. talk about right time, right place. You smiled at the thought, you hoped that whatever was guiding you would continue.

   You set your bag down at the foot of the bed. taking the blade off your back. it was heavy, feeling the weight lifted off was a blessing all by itself. you carefully set the blade on the ottoman at the end of your bed. you turned your head towards the window. when you approached you didn't expect to see much, but oh you should have. outside was a view worth a million words. It wasn't a village, it was a prosperous city. Massive didn't even begin to explain the size. You couldn't even fathom how many people lived here. the city could have held your small village twenty times over. you knew the Antarctica Empire was large and powerful. but you never expected this. Your smile fell slowly.

   At that though you looked away from the city, facing back into your room. the four post bed was calling your name. Grabbing your clothes from your bag you changed into something you could comfortably sleep in. well changing new thoughts raced your mind. you knew the empire was known for being harsh and dangerous. yet so far all you have seen is beauty and kindness. this made you weary ‘was this all a painted face?’, ‘was this what they wanted you to see?’ ‘under this, is the whole country suffering under dictatorship?’. you thought back to Phil's face, the smiles he offered you. The Painting of the family. nothing said they were malicious. But nothing cemented that they were also kind people. you were a traveler. a foreigner, you didn't belong here. Your only here because your bringing a ‘gift’. When the gift looses its price then what? What will happen to you? What happened to those who gave blades previously?

   You didn't want to think anymore. You simply wanted to sleep. Pushing the heavy covers back you crawled into the unfamiliar bed. You pulled and pushed pillows until you could find a comfortable spot. You adjusted your head a bit and slowly fell into the embrace of a deep sleep. 

   Morning came faster than you anticipated. There were no birds chirping or the sound of deep waves rolling. Instead it was a warm fireplace. You rolled over, rubbing your eyes before arching your back in a stretch. The bed was warm and pleasant. You rolled your head and saw a pair of blue toned clothes at the foot of the bed. Those must have been the clothes that Phil mentioned last night. you found a old grandfathers clock in the corner. The hands pointed at 8:26. Thinking over what may await today you pushed yourself up. Gently running your fingers over the material, you were genuinely surprised. it was heavy and from what you would gage, warm. a sweet smell lingered, looking about you saw there was a bathroom connected. walking closer the smell of Chai grew. there was a bath prepared for you. you glanced the time, the clothes and then the bath again. ‘I mean it wouldn't hurt’.

   You cleaned yourself, the water wasn't scalding hot, but it was just enough. It was welcoming. The baths on the ship were nothing to this, the ones on the sea were often cold and nothing you wanted to linger in. Where here you could stay in the warm water all day, if you thought you could get away with it. You didn't linger though. You simply cleaned up and stepped out. letting the water out. Stepping out of the bathroom was horrible. The steam had tricked you into a false security of warmth. The room was cold, goosebumps ran your skin making you hurry to dress. The clothes were made incredibly well. Nothing from what you had back at your village. The base of the clothes consisted of a long black shirt and simple black pants. After that it was simple layering. You had a jacket similar to a cloak almost, over that a simple blue cape to drape over your shoulders. you assumed it had no signa to show you were not one of the empires people. There were gold as accents on the sleeves of the jacket, and on the cape itself. the whole fit was elegant. you saw your old shoes next to boots. slipping the boots on you wondered out. to find something to eat. your stomach turning in knots from the lack of food. 

   when you turned the corner you saw Phil. he smiled at you “Ah, just  came to see if you were up” he was dressed similar to last night. only instead he had no fluffy cloak or hat atop is head, he only had simple blue robes. his wings were spread slightly. but he payed no mind to them. he offered you a arm. “Ready for food? hope we have somthi’n you like” you smiled kindly.

   “I'm sure anything you offer I will be ok with, I still owe you for letting me stay” you said, looking out the windows of the corridor. the day was brilliant. blue skies and a bright sun. the sun came through the windows. warming you more when you passed through it’s rays.

   “awh, I wouldn't think too much on it. after all you came all this way on your own” he was right, you did make this trip all by yourself. something you were proud to say you did. Phil opened a dark oak door to show a nice table. Techno sat at the head of the table, Wilbur sitting to the left of him. There were two empty prepared seats to his right you assumed this was for Phil and you. 

   Wilbur was already digging into his breakfast like it was his last meal. God forbid if anyone put there hand between his food and his mouth, they may have lost it. he was dressed up a bit more than you recall previously. his white button down now had a jacket overtop, with a few draping pendants. his elegant clothes contrasted his hair that was still a wild curly mess. 

   Unlike last night Techno was dressed even more extravagant. instead of his white button down, he was in a military's uniform. A cape adorned his sturdy shoulders draping elegantly on him. unlike yesterday he did not have his reading glasses, instead it was replaced by golden chains and pendants. his hair was similar to yesterday, only instead it was braided back, tinier braids were swept into the main braid. one of them having the feather. not a strand of hair fell out of place. beneath the pink you could see the emerald earing he wore. the same one Phil wore. the thing that stuck out the most was the golden crown that adorned his head. His hands were folded, his chin resting on them. his face was still hidden by the Boar skull. but that didn't stop you from seeing all the rings that he wore.

“mornin’ Tech, Wil” Phil said casually. he only had a response from techno, but even then it was monotone. your eyes watched the crown on Techno's head. after seeing all the signs you now realized that you were staying with the royal family. Where Phil took his seat you had stopped mid tracks. ‘could you even eat with them?’ Phil gave you a weird look. “somthin’ wrong (y/n)?” 

   “Can I eat with you?” they way you said that made you sound childish, but in fact it was a genuine question. At your words Phil get out a laugh.

   “Of course you can, what’d you think we’d do? eat in front of you?” he was amused at you. His smile wide as Wil stopped eating to look up at you. “what makes you think your not welcome to eat with us?” he questioned, his tone shifting softer.

   “Your the Royal family. I didn't think...” you trailed off as techno spoke. 

   “A Emperor is simply a title. If he cannot break bread with others, he has no right to claim the throne that he sits on. You and I are humans. let us break bread” he said simply. 

[amaya-chwan]

Takeaways from Therapy Game Restart 14 + Illustration Book Release Date

Hello again everyone! ❤️💛💜

It's finally here... chapter 14! In all its glory! 😍🥰✨

Before we get to our takeaways, just some news I missed in the last post!

🎉 SENSEI'S ILLUSTRATION BOOK WILL BE RELEASED AROUND THURSDAY, 23RD SEPTEMBER! 🎉

Image taken from this Twitter post from Dear+!

It is titled "日ノ原巡イラスト集　DARLING" and boasts a collection of illustrations from Sensei's works so far: Secret XXX, Therapy Game, and Kamisama no Uroko.

The current price is ¥2970 with tax (¥2700 without tax). If you'd like to preorder it on your proxy shopping service, I've found it on the Comi Comi Studios website here! The bonus for purchasing it on this website is a B5 clear file~ I haven't seen it on Animate just yet, so fingers crossed it'll appear on their website soon with another (different) bonus! ❤️💛

Alright, with this amazing news done, let's move onto our takeaways, the long awaited takeaways! Thank you for being so patient with me! 💜

My short life update: currently in week 8 of lockdown and I haven't left my house in a long time other than for exercise or groceries. But I do have my vaccination appointment booked so YAY! 🎉

Here are our takeaways for this chapter:

Oh man, we pick right up from the last page of chapter 13. MINATO, BB, YOU LOOK SO PAINED! 😭

Sensei is the BIGGEST tease... that's all we got of that Minato and Shizuma scene...👀😭

The female staff at the veterinary hospital have really mellowed out! They're not bad, after all. ☺️

Oh dear, Nakajou-sensei, please get better ASAP!

Whoa... did Onodera just...?? I'm starting to think back to that Onodera discussion we had a couple of months ago... 🤔

Poor Shizuma, always roped into Onodera's workplace stuff! IT'S BECAUSE YOU HAVE GREAT PEOPLE SKILLS, SHIZUMA! PROUD OF YOU! 😍🙌

Man, Onodera has a really... blunt way of saying things to her human clients. Wow, brave. 😲

But I will say, Onodera really is good with animals. 🙌

Yet again, I think about that Onodera discussion we had... 🤔🤔

And that’s it for this chapter’s takeaways! For a more detailed breakdown/summary of this chapter, please continue after the cut! There may or may not be a surprise scene (or two) there. Please keep reading if you want to see~  😉✨

Our chapter begins where we left off in chapter 13--Minato pinning Shizuma down on the bed. Shizuma looks up at Minato and reflects on his actions that caused the pained look he is seeing.

Image taken from this Dear+ Twitter post!

On the next page (title page), the dialogue reads: Shizuma wants to understand what it is about his director (Onodera) that is making Minato uneasy. // However, that beautiful liar hides it well...

(I believe we are taken back to the morning before Shizuma and Minato meet up for their date.)

The title page features Onodera walking back to the clinic, bread in hand, with a cat cozying up on her leg. We are then brought to the clinic's lunchroom, with the female staff and Shizuma on break. The roster in the room shows that Onodera is extremely busy, Nakajou-sensei has afternoon house call appointments, Tatsumi is Nakajou-sensei's support for these appointments, and Shizuma has a half day and finishes in the afternoon in lieu of working on his scheduled day off.

Shizuma asks his coworkers what presents they like from their partners and takes note of their answers. One of the female nurses asks if it's Minato's birthday. Shizuma confesses that their relationship has been affected by the various things happening lately, so he wants to get Minato a gift before seeing him later that day.

The nurses quickly pick up that the gift is a "tribute" of sorts as this line of work means a lot of missed appointments and dates, and Shizuma confirms their suspicions. While the nurses realise male-male relationships and male-female relationships aren't that different in this aspect, everyone in the lunchroom is alerted to someone shouting Nakajou-sensei's name.

Shizuma and a nurse see Tatsumi with Nakajou-sensei, who has collapsed on the floor. While the staff are concerned about Nakajou's well-being, she brushes it off as a dizzy spell. Before they can help her up, Onodera sweeps her off her feet and carries Nakajou to her (Onodera's) office. While Nakajou asks Onodera to put her down out of sheer embarrassment, Shizuma and Tatsumi are in shock, with Tatsumi commenting on Onodera's manliness in that moment. One of the other nurses gently smacks Shizuma's shoulder and tells the two to grab a blanket and a drink for Nakajou.

In her office, Onodera asks Nakajou why she's been overworking herself to the point of collapsing. The nurse (who gave the gentle smack) very obviously hints to Onodera that it is her fault. As Nakajou calms the nurse by saying that's just how the director is, Tatsumi asks Nakajou about their afternoon appointments. She says she'll be fine to go after a little rest, but the nurse says she mustn't overexert herself.

After a few back and forths about who should go and the clients' needs/personality (picky about the vet, had a pet that doesn't like men, etc), Onodera says she will go. The nurses are shocked and reminisce about all the issues they've had when Onodera interacts with the owners. Tatsumi and Shizuma stand there, and can very clearly imagine those situations happening.

While Onodera rearranges and informs the nurses of the shift changes to accommodate Nakajou-sensei, Shizuma has a terrible premonition that unfortunately comes true: he is appointed as Onodera's support for the afternoon house calls.

Wearing a sulky expression, Shizuma packs the necessary equipment in Onodera's car and reminds her that he has a very important engagement that night that he cannot miss, and as such will leave immediately after the house call appointments are done. Onodera bursts his bubble, and tells him to give up on those plans while he can since this is the line of work he's chosen.

As Shizuma reads the client files, he questions Onodera on why he is her support when he's never attended to these clients before. While Onodera tells him that good coordination is important with a physician's support and that he's the only one she can rely on to give her an honest opinion and calm the clients, Shizuma realises that he's basically the mediator between her and the owners. She confirms that this is his strong point, has great expectations for him, and proceeds to drive. Shizuma then reads the patient files at lightning speed, realising there's a threatening 'something' that Minato has sensed, but that's just how the director is. He then vows to make it to their meeting tonight, no matter what.

The first three house calls, as expected, involve Onodera insulting and angering the owners--Onodera tells the first client that his insistence on seeing Nakajou rather than a 'young' director is having a negative effect on his pet who needs immediate medical care; Onodera offends the second client, inferring from their conversation that her pet's appearance is more important than the need to shave their fur and get an ultrasound done; Onodera accuses the third client of being irresponsible in caring for his exotic animals and asks for more effort on his part. In all three scenarios, Shizuma awkwardly smiles while trying to ease the tension.

The scene skips to Onodera and Shizuma arriving at their fourth and final house call for the day. Just as Onodera explains to Shizuma that she must check a whole host of things at house calls (and indirectly be too blunt about it with the owners), Shizuma asks her to consider the owner's feelings and change when and how she says things. She glares ahead in silence, and Shizuma is just glad that she is now aware of it. He again reminds her to talk with the owner nicely and gently as he probably won't be able to help with the next client as their pet dislikes men. Onodera tells him to just sit in the corner and witness the client become furious while he doesn't help, making him feel slightly guilty for saying that. He is now adament on not helping her.

They reach the owner's home and we meet an elderly woman named Shiratori and her 9-year-old male cat, Tono. Shiratori apologises to Shizuma as her cat doesn't like men. Tono hisses at them as Onodera opens his cage, but is then coaxed into submission by Onodera who covers his vision with a towel and takes him into her lap to calm down. Shiratori and Shizuma are surprised at his sudden docile nature, with Shizuma witnessing how well she deals with animals.

As Shizuma looks on at Onodera while she completes a check on Tono, he sees she is crumbling at the friendliness and talkative nature of Shiratori, who sings nothing but praise for Onodera and how her family must be proud to have such an amazing daughter. Aiming to ease her troubles and remembering the earlier guilt-trip she gave him, he redirects Shiratori's attention to her broken fly screen and offers to fix that plus everything else that needs repair in her home.

Onodera watches as the two leave the room for a bit before apologising to Tono for ignoring him. Tono looks on at Onodera happily while she asks him how he can live with such a lively human and to tell her his secret to this. She brings him into her arms once more to check his limbs, and as Tono looks up smiling at Onodera, Onodera sees her reflection in Tono's eyes, and both seem to realise something.

BG Text: Stare...

Suddenly, Shizuma and Shiratori, who are busy fixing the window, hear a loud crash and rush into the room to find Tono atop the cabinet and Onodera on the floor, with her hair in disarray. In the next panel, Tono is shown to be hiding in the bookshelf, looking on irritatingly at the humans. Shiratori apologises to Onodera, who shakes it off and says it's nothing to worry about and no harm's been done.

Shiratori asks if Onodera will fix/tie her hair up again, but when Onodera says her hair tie was broken when Tono used her as a launchpad to get on the cabinet, Shiratori runs to get her a new one. As Shiratori gushes over the 3 piece dopey looking character hair tie set she received as a present from her grandchild (and lets Onodera pick one), a greatly displeased look is plastered on Onodera's face. Shizuma, in shock, notices her displeasure and hopes she just thanks Shiratori for it. And Onodera does, bringing a great big smile to Shiratori's face.

As Onodera and Shizuma leave, Shiratori says she's glad to have talked with Onodera and invites her to come over again. As she says this, we see Onodera looking back with a blank look in her eyes.

And that’s it for this chapter! THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR! 💜 While I was surprised at the lack of Minato in this chapter (Sensei legit is such a tease, LOL 🤣), I'm happy we can learn more about Onodera. Ngl, I'm starting to really question if Onodera is male or female now, given what transpired in this chapter. I guess we shall see in the next one!

I also changed the formatting a bit and removed the bullet points. Please let me know which format is better/easier to read! Ahah!

EDIT: Spelling and grammar checks are done! Didn't change a lot, but hope it reads better! 💜

📢 As always, please support Hinohara-sensei by purchasing her books and CDs! 📢

And please also refrain from resharing these translations and images outside of this post! Thank you for understanding! ❤️💛

There won't be a chapter in next month's (September release) Dear+, so I shall see you in two months for the next chapter (Dear+ November Issue, to be released in October).

As always, stay safe during these turbulent times and look out for each other and for your loved ones! 💜❤️💛

[hwrryscherry]

The one where model Y/N is attacked in Paris.

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N are in Paris for Fashion Week 2020 earlier this year. To celebrate her first time walking for Gucci, Harry decides to take her out for a dinner date when a crazy youtube prankster attacks her while leaving the restaurant and Harry get furious as standing up to defend his girl.

word count: 3.5K

warning: rude and disrespectful attitude, invasion of personal space, violence, anxiety attack quote. DON’T read it if you feel uncomfortable.

author’s note: HIII, I know this took me a while. I was working on it when I got a cold and just couldn’t think of anything to finish writing this, but I’m much better now for god’s sake. I’d like to apologize with whoever requested this for taking such a long time to post it and say a huge thank you or requesting this too! This is completely inspired by what happened to Gigi Hadid in 2016(I guess) and I remember seeing this video and thinking why someone would do that, also, Gigi said once that the guy was lucky Zayn wasn’t with her sooooo I guess I just think Harry would be so furious because even though he’s a very chill guy, his girl safety and well being is the one thing that matters the most to him.

gigi’s video for the ones who didn’t see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjsPmjqmcvs

       February 27th, 2020

   Today was the first time that you ever walked for Gucci, and it was amazing, you were beyond happy because getting where you are today being a short model and only being 22 years old it's something to be proud of. It hasn't been easy all the time but you were slowly making your way to the top and that's more than enough. And you were highly grateful for Harry either, of course you walked Gucci's show because of your talent and hard working and no one doubted that, but Harry did a important role in your newest contract with Gucci because you met the team because of him and his Gucci obsession. But anyway, the fashion show was amazing, and you had Harry on the crowd cheering for you all the time and God, he was so proud! He couldn’t even handle himself. He was recording everything and even got up when you did the catwalk next to him as he kept taking multiple pictures. If you have to be real, almost 90% of those pictures looked really bad because he wasn't focusing on the phone but he also wanted to register this moment and when you'd look through them later you'd actually laugh because most of them had a very blur image.

    When the fashion show ended, he had to congratulate you backstage. As you were starting to take off your outfit, you listened to your boyfriend's rough voice making you turn around to face him and see the biggest smile on his face, you could clearly see his dimples on the side of his cheek. He walked over to you instantly wrapping his strong arms around your figure hugging you so tight that you were even afraid that he would get the feat of ruining the rest of clothes you still had on.

— You were so great, I'm so pround of you! — Harry said on a low tone next to your ear before breaking the hug and looking carefully to your face. You had this crazy green eyeshadow that were halfway gone by now which caused him to chuckle — I love your eye look, it looks fabulous! — Harry said making you bend over to stare at the mirror behind you only realizing now you haven't finished taking off your makeup yet. You stand straight again giving him a mocking expression as you grabbed the makeup wipe you were using from the makeup table behind both of you.  

— I know, I'm thinking about wearing this everywhere because it's just really fashion! — you ironically said taking a smirk out of him as you turned around sitting on the chair in front of the mirror so you could have a sight of how you're makeup were doing — But thank you, you know I appreciate it!

— I do! And that's why I'll congratulate you by taking you out for dinner tonight! — Harry said walking towards you resting his hands on both of your shoulders squeezing them gently as he bends over giving you a small kiss on your neck.

— Oh, like a dinner date? — You'd ask with a smirk on as you felt goosebumps on your kiss with his little kiss.

— Exactly like a dinner date! And later, we can have our own private celebration! — He'd say with a  smirk on his lips as you finished taking your makeup off — What d' you think? Sounds good? — He asked you and you nodded at him and just some minutes later you both were out stage going back to your hotel in Paris. Harry called Jeff and asked him if he could make a reservation for both of you for tonight around 8 pm and he glady did, so as it was already 6 pm and as you both were probably the one couple in the world who takes the longest to get ready, you'd come back to the hotel and started getting ready already.

    Jeff made an appointment for both of you to go to Le Cinq restaurant which is located near the Eiffel Tower and Arc of Triumph. You absolutely loved Paris at night, for some reason it seemed more magical and interesting to you. The weather, the lights, the fashion and the language that you learned to master well through the years warmed your heart whenever you’d go there. When you were a child, you got used to always hearing your mom tells you:’’whenever you’re in love, go to Paris’’, and for this reason Paris was one of the first places where you and Harry traveled together as couple. Harry didn’t use to travel a lot for by the way. MOst of the time, he used to travel for work, so this changed a lot since you started dating because you love to travel. You’ve always been a free spirit person, the kind of person that goes wherever the winds takes you so with the time Harry became like this too as you started taking him to do the craziest things on the craziest places around the world.

    You felt the car slower it’s velocity as it got closer to the front of the restaurant, and you both could see by the window that the front was packed. As it was Paris Fashion Week, there were a lot of celebrities in the city and usually, fans settled in front of popular places around the city hoping they’d have a chance to meet their favorite celebs and even though you were already used to crowds at this point of your life, they’d still make you a little nervous, especially when it was in places not well known to you like a city you don’t live on.

— You’ll have to guide me because these shoes are really high and I don't want to step on anyone's feet — You said to Harry while putting your phone in the small black Prada bag you carried with you with your head down looking carefully to it because you’ve lost the count of how many times you thought you had put the phone inside your bag and you didn’t.

— It's alright! Hold my hand because there are a lot of people here! — Said Harry bringing his left hand up to your face to put a lock of hair of yours that fell in your face behind your ear and you nodded to him. Harry was really protective over you, and he has been that way since the beginning of your relationship. He’d always put your safety first anytime you’d go out together. When it was his about his concerts, you’d usually discuss about the fact that you want to be in the audience and he wants you to be backstage. It’d taken you a few minutes to convince him that everything was going to be fine, but it would also have days that it didn’t matter how much time you try to convince him he’d beg you to stay backstage so he could be relaxed during the performance. But you were grateful for him being that way, you were grateful that he cared so much about your well being because you know exactly how much some relationships can be destructive and you felt lucky to have someone this good in your life. Of course he wasn’t perfect, neither of you were but who is? He tried his best and that’s what matters the most.

    But anyway, Harry held your hand tightly and opened the car door, immediately feeling the camera’s flashes burning your faces and listening to some fans starting to shout. Harry’s bodyguards got between both of you and the crowd guiding your way to the entrance of the restaurant and you felt the heat from the crowd instantly even though the weather in Paris was only 59°F, it’d feel lot warmer until you entered the place. And that is one special kind of a place, The decoration was perfectly splendid, gorgeous and marvelous if you must say. The touches of gold and light blue mixed with the yellow coloration of lights and the spectacular french food scent brought a cozy and elegant vibe.The restaurant was a little full, nothing out of the common and you observed the many different sizes of tables and the groups of people in it.

    You both were taken to your table that was located next to the windows but wasn’t actually on the windows at it still had people outside and it feels weird to eat with people watching you. Anyway, Harry as the gentleman he is pulled the chair for you as he always did even though you had told him there’s no need for that. You both ordered glasses of your favorite white wine, neither of you were heavy drinkers but as it was a celebration it was much needed. The date happened naturally, just as all the laughing, talking and even gossips. This the casual couple gossip that you two would have, but it happened naturally. None of you ever felt like you had to pretend to be anybody else except yourself around each other.

    During the night, Harry would get lost in your face admiring your features while you’re talking. He would admire the way your eyebrows move when you’d change expressions, the way your eyes would form a very tiny line when you tried to see something that was away from you, he’d admire your smile and the sound of your laugh anytime you’d remember of something funny or he’d tell you something funny and he’d think of how lucky he is to have you, because even though he knows that sometimes he can be a pain in the ass(just as you can too) , you’re very lucky to have one another and to have someone who would make you feel this great and free about who you are. Because who you are is exactly who you need to be. Of course both of you believes that changing and envolving it’s the most important thing to do and sometimes you’d be surprised to see how much you both grew from the beginning of your relationship until today and that would bring smile to your faces. He feels lucky to be able to call you his girl, and god you loved when he’d do it. You loved when he was about to present you to someone and say ‘’This is my girl Y/N’’, it’d cause you to open a big smile because it felt natural. You’re his and he’s yours, period.

    When you both decided it was time to call it a night Harry paid the check against what you wanted because you wanted to pay this time. You’d honestly hate to have people paying for you, and this would usually be a point of discussion between you and Harry. You don't know why but you hate it, and it's just the gentleman in Harry wanting to spoil his girl again and again until he get tired of doing it, but he never does.

   You were about to leave the restaurant when Harry slid his right hand around your waist bringing you closer to him very calmly to kiss your cheek.

— I know you want to say hi to everyone but just walk to the car, alright? — He'd lowly talk next to your ear making you look at him with a serious expression — It's for your safety, love! It's late now, and we don't know who's there. — And he was right, it was past midnight now and there were still some people out there. How can they stand there in this cold weather? But anyway, you agreed with him as you both walked your way to outside. You felt flashes again, blinding flashing lights making you look to the ground as Harry held his hand on the back of your back guiding you to the car.

    As you walked towards the car, you felt a small hand touch your arm and you looked over to see a little girl with probably 12 or 13 years. She pursued tired eyes, and your heart ached with just the thought of keeping walking back to the car because you had no idea of how much time she’s been outside waiting for you so you stopped walking and bend down a little to get close to her height which made Harry stops walking immediately looking a little surprised but he understood when he saw you taking a picture with the little girl and how your face lightens up after it. You asked her what was her name and her age and she answered that her name was Lily and she was 13 she told you that she wants to be a model just like you when she grows older and that melted your heart. You smiled at her and told her that she could do whatever she wanted to and told her that when she grows up and becomes a model, you’d love to walk a show with her. When you’d stand up again you saw Harry looking at you with a small smile on his lips. He couldn’t deny he loves your kindness to every person in the world. It made his heart happy to know that he’s with someone with the same life philosophy than him. So he turned around to open the car door for you when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist lifting you up and you froze.

— What the fu... — You'd shout before starting to hit him on his arms with your elbows as you'd move your legs trying to kick him with your heels. You'd feel flashes on your face and heat on your body increasing. It was the adrenaline and you were furious at this point. — Get...Off...Me — You'd shout as you'd hit his face with your elbows as well, Harry looked over to you and stormed out. He'd swear he'd never been like this in his life, he'd basically run to behind the guy's back and put his arm around his neck, Harry'd give him a punch right in the middle of his back and a slightly kick on the back of his knee to destabilise the guy which put you free by the moment he started to fall. Harry's bodyguard would hold you immediately trying to push you away from the crowd as you looked at Harry pushing the guy away from you.

— What the fuck were you doing? — Harry'd shout right into the man's face and watch as the man started to walk away from the crowd but Harry would go after him. Harry swears to god he couldn't even feel his body at the time. He was completely numb, moved by adrenaline and all he wanted to do was to beat the shit out of that man. — WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? — Harry'd shout walking after him getting no response which just made him angrier. At that time he didn't care about the cameras or whoever was watching him, he couldn't calm down when someone threated his girl safety and personal space. It didn't even need to be you. If he saw anyone threatening a woman's safety, he'd freak out in anger.

   You felt the bodyguards strong hands trying to push you away from the situation because that's what Harry would want him to do. He tried walking you towards the car, but you were reluctantly screaming for Harry because he could get himself hurt if he didn't come back to the car now. The other bodyguard walked after Harry grabbing him by the arm and Harry turned over to look at him with so much anger on his look and you'd swear you never saw him like this but then he did started walking over to you again.

   You finally entered the car and closed the door. You felt in panic. Basically paralyzed, you felt your anxiety attacking and your hands shaking. You could literally hear your heart beating so fast and loud that it scares you.

— Go get him! Follow him to hell. I don't care! Take him to the police office! — You'd listen to Harry talks firmly to his bodyguards as he opened the car's door and entered in it. He took a deep breath and turned his face to look at you. His heart broke at that moment. You were a mess. You couldn't even feel the tears leaving your eyes, but he did see them. He saw your hands shaking and how scared your eyes looked and at that moment all of his anger left his body — Love... — He'd sigh getting closer to you while wrapping his arms around your now-fragile figure. He could feel your entire body shaking on his arms. He caressed your hair with one of his hands as he hugged you tight to calm you down. He'd look to the driver and make a sign for him to start driving back to your hotel — Are ya okay? You're hurt? Did he hurt you? — He'd talk on a calm tone squeezing you a little on his arms. You'd lift your head up to look at him with red wet eyes shaking your head to him.

— I'm sorry! — You'd say lowly. He did tell you to walk straight to the car, and you didn't listen to him.

— It's not your fault, love! — He'd say wiping some of your tears and then carefully kissing both of cheeks — Don't worry about it, everything's gonna be fine, alright? It's okay!

   You'd spent the rest of the ride in silence. A comfortable silence. You'd be laying your head on his shoulder while holding his head getting your breathing and heart back to normal and your phones would start buzzing with notifications of what happened but none of you would see it, not now.

   When you got to your hotel, you'd get out of the car in the garage. You'd both walk slowly to the elevator and slowing to your room. You entered the room going directly to the king sized bed and throwing yourself in it because you felt like getting in a coma and just waking up to a time where all this drama would go away. Harry'd walk towards you and sit in bed beside you. He'd put both of his hands on your shoulders massaging them slowly.

— I'll prepare you a bath, so you can relax a little before sleeping, how's that sound? — He'd say trying to cheer you up a little bit.

— Sounds great, thank you love! — You'd turn your head to look at him with a forced smile on your lips. Harry'd bend down to kiss your hair line before leaving to the bathroom.

   He'd try his best to make you feel the most comfortable to sleep tonight. He'd prepare you a bath. He'd give you a message, he'd brush your hair for you but actually, he loves to do that. He loves to brush your hair before you go to bed, it was more like a routine for you both. He loves to feel your long locks on his fingers and to feel the sweet scent of it. He'd cuddle you until you fall asleep too, he'd even be the big spoon tonight so you could sleep on his chest breathing his perfume because he hoped that'd make you have a good night of sleep.

   And after you did, he'd look on the things on his phone. All the posts about you being attacked in Paris and him beating the guy who did it were just too much and he felt sorry that you'd have to see and read all of those stuff as soon as you unblock your phone. A lot of your friends texted him asking what happened and if you were ok. He'd answer the closest ones only, like his mom and Gemma, your mom, Bella and Jeff. He didn't know what you'll decide about the next fashion shows you had to walk, but he also knows that no one would blame you if you just chose to come back home in NYC.

  Harry didn't sleep at that night at all, he couldn't stop looking for what happened and why it happened. The next day, it was everywhere in the media and later you'd found out that the guy was a youtuber and he was making a prank when he posted his stupid youtube vlog with "I pranked Harry Styles's girlfriend and he punched me" as a title. You'd sue him for sure. You don't like taking those kind of actions, but it was necessary, he had to understand that you cannot disrespect people like this, specially people you don't know.

  After that you'd probably understand why Harry is so protective over you and Harry would actually get ten times more protective, if I had to be honest. But as the time passed by and quarantine came you both would leave it behind and move on with your life because in the end of the day you both will still have one another.

[sylvies-chen]

You Make Me Feel So Young

Summary: Tim shows up at Lucy's apartment after struggling with some guilt, and finally gets that dance she'd saved for him.

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6K

A/N: For day 1 of the Chenford Fanfic Week 2021 organized by @therookiebook!! I'm so excited to participate, I hope you guys like this oneshot <3

AO3 link

++++++++

He feels guilty.

Lucy knows he does, even before he tells her. After everything at Angela’s wedding went down, after she and Jackson had been taken and nearly died, after the dust had settled from that entire stressful day, Lucy can feel the guilt oozing out of him.

Only Tim Bradford shows up at her door to talk about it, and it’s about the last thing she expects to happen.

Like, ever.

“Hey,” he blurts out as soon as she opens the door.

“Hi.” Lucy doesn’t know what to say but she knows the hand that’s holding onto the edge of her door feels numb all of a sudden and her breath gets caught in her throat.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks, trying to seem nonchalant. Lucy sees right through it, knows that him coming here alone, out of the blue, must mean something’s wrong. But she doesn’t say anything because she knows Tim takes a while sometimes to be able to open up. So instead, she nods.

“Yeah, of course.” Jackson’s out, so she lets Tim in without hesitation. Not that it’d matter if he were here, really, but she sees that broken, guilt-ridden look in Tim’s eyes and knows it’s best that they’re alone.

He plays it cool at first— out of self-preservation, she thinks— and looks around the apartment as she lets him in.

“This place looks a lot nicer than the last time I saw it,” he starts out.

“Yeah, well Cujo’s not around to tear up pillows anymore so I’d say it’s a big improvement,” she jokes meekly.

His hands are shoved in his pockets stiffly as he walks around her living room, glancing over to Jackson’s bedroom.

“Jackson’s not here?”

“No, he went to check up on Angela. I’m surprised you aren’t there too,” she adds.

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s where you’ve been for the past week,” Lucy explains simply, glancing at him expectantly and waiting for him to talk. Not this kind of talk, not small talk or dancing around what he really needs to get off his chest, but for him to actually, really talk.

All does is stand by her couch, less than ten feet away from her, and avoid her gaze. She swears she can see his fists tensing up in the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

“I wasn’t.” She was . “I just know how worried you were about her when she was taken. I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave her side.”

“Just making up for what I didn’t do the first time, I guess,” he grumbles under his breath.

Lucy sighs, cutting their small talk short and getting to the point. “Why are you really here, Tim?”

Her bluntness surprises him, she thinks, because he blinks at her. “What?”

“Why are you here?” She repeats. “You’ve never shown up at my place randomly while off shift. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d remembered I live here. I know this past week has been intense but clearly you need something or else you wouldn’t have come here. So would you just tell me whatever it is you want to say so that I can help you?”

He exhales quietly, his chest shaking as it falls. “It’s my fault. Angela and Jackson nearly died, she nearly lost her baby, they were put in danger at her own damn wedding, and it’s… it’s my fault.”

“No, no,” she replies sympathetically, shaking her head. “It’s not. What happened to them happened because of La Fiera, not you.”

“I was her man of honour,” he explains with a dry and slightly sarcastic chuckle. “Where’s the honour in failing to protect the bride?”

“If you really felt that, you wouldn’t have come here. You knew,” she tells him, her voice determined and fierce. “You knew I wouldn’t let you sit here and feel sorry for yourself. If you wanted to sit around feeling sorry for yourself you would have gone to a bar, alone. But you came here, which means somewhere deep down you know you couldn’t have done anything to stop it.”

For one of the only times since Lucy’s known him, Tim Bradford is speechless. He looks for words but finds none, huffs, and sits down on her couch, fiddling nervously with his thumbs. Her heart sinks at the sight of it. This guilt of his isn’t going away with anything she says, she knows that now. Healing takes time, so all she can really do is just be there for him.

She sits down next to him on the couch, leaving only an inch of space. “You don’t have to carry the weight of everything, you know,” she continues gently. “You take on so much, you don’t always have to feel so responsible for every bad thing that happens. That’s no way to live.”

“I’m a cop,” he shrugs painfully. “I became a cop because I wanted to keep helping people, protecting them. So sure, it might make me a more serious person, but I do it because it’s supposed to be what I do best.”

“I get that. But no one’s perfect. I’m not perfect, even with all of your Tim tests,” she teases meekly. “That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You fought hard to get both of them back and you did. You did that. Angela’s home now, she and the baby are safe and alright. That’s what matters.”

He looks at her, stunned but greatly appreciative. “Thanks,” he offers, slightly begrudgingly, after a moment. “I just... thanks .”

“I think I have something of yours,” she tells him gently, changing the subject to lighten the mood. Because if she can’t assuage his guilt then at the very least, she can make him feel better; feel happy again.

Tim’s brows scrunch up, sending a confused look her way. Lucy wordlessly moves to pull out her phone, connecting it to the small wireless speaker on the coffee table. The buttons crisply click as she turns up the volume, pressing play on the first ballad she finds in her list of varied songs. (But her taste in music isn’t actually as diverse as she’d like and is really just filled with K-pop tracks).

The music streams through the speaker and throughout the apartment, audible but still quiet so as not to disturb the other tenants. Tim stays seated as Lucy stands up, still confused but shifting to the edge of his seat as if being drawn to her by an unnamed force.

Lucy finally extends her open palm, giving him a shy but cheeky grin. “Your dance, Officer Bradford?”

Realization hits and Tim’s shoulders relax a little. “I don’t know, I’m not in the mood for dancing right now.”

“Come on,” she pleads. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise. Or, at the very least, it’ll give you something to tease me about at work.”

Tim gives a hearty chuckle, smiling widely as he accepts her hand. It makes Lucy smile too. Why shouldn’t it? He’s always so surly and serious, making him laugh would make anyone proud and giddy. Right?

“Alright. After you, Officer Chen,” he replies as she pulls him off the couch and onto the rug in her living room. His hand is warm. They’re calloused, and bigger than hers to the point where her fingers get swallowed up in his as he gives her hand a squeeze. But god, they’re so warm and safe . Her mind can’t stop coming back to that observation, no matter how much she knows she shouldn’t.

Tim’s other hand finds her waist, his grip gentle. Her hand flies to his chest, pulling him in until her chin is inches away from resting on his shoulder.

Up until now, space hasn’t really been an issue for them. The only time there’d been this much physical contact between them was last year when Caleb had buried her alive. Even then, the situation had allowed for a special exception. She’d needed all the physical and emotional support she could get at that moment, and Tim had provided it for her.

Now though, there's no exception, no special circumstance, no excuse. They’re dancing while wrapped up in each other solely because they want to be, and that change is enough to terrify Lucy. She doesn’t move though, only keeps swaying to the music and letting out small, shaky breaths.

What can she say? She never was one to back down from something that scared her.

“You’re a good dancer,” Lucy points out quietly.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” he replies, his breath catching onto her neck and sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

“Is it safe to say you’re enjoying yourself? You feel more relaxed, I daresay you’re having fun,” she tries teasing.

“I’m just surprised,” he counters. “I was prepared for my toes to endure some serious stomping.”

“Oh please, like my tiny toes could ever harm you.” Her nose scrunches playfully as she feigns a threatening look, which makes Tim smile again. What is it with that smile of his killing her softly?

“I don’t know, you’re a lot tougher than you look.”

“Was that a compliment?” She asks teasingly.

“Don’t tell Nova, she’ll get jealous,” he jokes back, continuing to sway to the music.

“Yeah but I bet she’d love this,” Lucy remarks. In her head, she adds that the line between herself and Nova is getting blurred but it goes unspoken and, eventually, ignored.

“Nova’s not the only one,” he risks replying. “You’re right. This is… nice .”

Tim leans back a little to meet her eye, the swaying decelerating until they’re standing in her living room. Alone. With an intense and inviting gaze piercing into her eyes.

“It is,” Lucy agrees. Her voice is barely audible and before she can think twice, she blurts out probably the worst thing she could ever think of: the thing she means with every fiber of her being. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

She really does mean it. She wants to stay there forever, where everything feels good and safe and right . Only she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, per se. To her surprise though, he doesn’t react poorly to it. Instead, he flashes the smallest smile and nods in agreement, swallowing hard. "Me too."

He looks so young like that, something juvenile and exciting radiating off of him like a breath of fresh air. For a second, she almost thinks he’s the same age as her.

And oh fuck , something just clicks after that.

His lips part only slightly, his eyes glimmering with something intense and hopeful. Her skin is on fire, her heart is racing, and every neuron in her brain is telling her to look away but she can’t. She can’t escape his eyes. Lucy doesn’t know what this thing between them is, only that one minute, they’re dancing and the next, they’re… doing something else. The swaying stops and everything comes to a glaring halt as the song starts to come to a gradual end. They’re left with nothing to do but stand there and look at each other. It’s almost like he’s listened to her and that somehow, he’s made them become completely frozen in time so that maybe, just maybe, they really could stay here forever.

Admittedly, terrifyingly, Lucy would have no complaints about that.

They’re holding each other too— god , she almost forgot about his hands on her wait, on her back. They’re strong and massive and yet so gentle. And before she knows it, they’re pulling her in closer and closer.

His face is inches apart from her, their lips so close. She shouldn’t be thinking about his lips, about any of the things she’s feeling right now, but she can feel his breath and it makes it impossible to think of anything else. Her chest is almost pressed against his and she wonders if Tim can feel the shaky rise and fall of her chest against his.

They get closer again, and closer, and closer…

Then, the door clicks and swings open, sending her and Tim jumping apart.

The moment ends before it ever has a chance to start.

“Hey, I’m back,” Jackson calls out as he walks in, checking his phone. “So fire up the next episode of Love Island and put in the popcorn because I am ready to g—”

Jackson stops mid-sentence once he looks up from his phone and finds Lucy, standing next to Tim as they both look away from each other with flushed cheeks and awkward coughs from their throats. The music on her phone has stopped now, thankfully, but the light from the speaker still flashes to indicate it’s on and Jackson soaks in the whole scene. He meets it with confusion though, his brows furrowing.

“Uhh… What’s going on here?”

“I was just about to leave,” Tim announces, looking down at the floor as he makes a beeline for his coat.

“Right, yeah,” Lucy nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess?”

“Yeah, of course. Uh, bye,” he replies awkwardly, his eyes meeting Lucy’s one last time with something that she daresay looks like disappointment— like yearning. Jackson’s still there though, and so the moment is short-lived. Tim’s hands fly back into his pockets, just as stiff as they were when he first came over, and he leaves. The door shuts behind him abruptly.

Lucy stares at the door where Tim used to be, her shoulders sagging in a disappointment of her own, but she turns to see Jackson staring at her and knows she has no way to explain… well, to explain whatever the hell just happened.

“You want to tell me why Tim was here?”

“He felt guilty about what happened with you and Angela,” she explains, a little defensively. “I was just talking it out with him.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jackson nods with an unconvinced laugh, “that’s why you two jumped apart like frogs as soon as I came in.”

“We did not jump apart ,” she protests.

“Ok, if you say so,” he concedes, his hands up in surrender. “Besides, whatever you two were doing here, I just—… don’t want to know.” He lets out a small chuckle after that, shaking his head as he moves to grab a pack of unpopped popcorn out of the cupboard and put it in the microwave.

“It was nothing,” she mumbles quietly. “Nothing happened.”

It’s the first real lie she’s told that night. Jackson drops it after that though, and she sighs to herself as she sits back down on the couch.

She closes her eyes as the microwave buzzes and Jackson starts to ramble about his visit with Angela, slowly transporting herself back to that dance with Tim.

Maybe she’s wrong for this, maybe she’s completely insane and unprofessional. But as she plays it over in her head, her own words ring through her head and she realizes that maybe she really did want to stay like that with Tim forever.

Oh, screw it . She knows she did. It’s not a fact she can necessarily scream out to the world, but she did.

To Lucy, there are much worse things to want to be.

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 2/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 2/8 WORD COUNT: 4500+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, macabre stuff SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The sun hasn’t even risen when Nanami came to consciousness as usual. It did not matter whether he was on vacation or working, he just automatically wakes up at the same time each and every morning without miss. It’s regardless of whether he slept enough or not. He saw no point in tarrying in bed – it was unproductive – and immediately got up without skipping a beat in his routine.

“You’re too vanilla,” he remembered you commenting when you stayed one weekend at his place in the city for an art symposium, having met him on the hallway on your way to bed after staying up all night playing video games. He just brushed your remark off with a grunt back then, but at present, he couldn’t help but muse over the fact that everything he did reminded him of you.

It was a bit light outside when he emerged from the adjoining bath of the guest room. He threw on a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt and grabbed a water bottle and a small towel on his way out of the room, mind set on going for a run. If there was something great about staying at Gojo Manor, it was the fact that it was surrounded with acres of grassland and forest with trails great for walks and jogs.

Nanami particularly grew fond of the path that led to the lake at the bottom of the hill where the mansion stood. There was a direct view of it from the balcony at the back of the structure, appearing like a jewel in the middle of the woods, and it had always been his favorite spot. The late former clan head told him it was man-made and has been there for more than a century that it became a natural feature of the estate. It was a spot in the property with a great history and great value to the clan, thus his gravitation towards it.

It’s her favorite place in the whole estate, too, he thought indulgently.

Inhaling deeply, he set out to the back doors that led to the patio and the walled gardens, starting in a slow jog before building his momentum as he reached open grounds.

And thus, his day began as such.

He came back from his run when it was already too hot, heaving deep breaths and desperate for a shower as his white shirt and grey sweats stuck to his body, drenched in sweat. His leg muscles ached, but it had been a good run.

Greetings from the staff met him as he reentered the manor which he returned with polite nods. He was headed to the stairs when he passed by the breakfast room and happened to hear Gojo talking to you. It went against his principles to eavesdrop in an evidently private conversation but he stayed rooted on his spot upon hearing you speak.

Despite your seeming foul temper upon leaving him the previous night, you seemed to have bounced back to your usual self, your tone sounding more jovial than usual. Your words were at odds to your tone as you told Gojo not to piss you off so early in the morning.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Kento?" Gojo asked just as the person in question was about to pass the doorway.

"It's really none of your business," you responded, voice devoid of any emotions. He did it, Gojo. He finally fouled up your mood.

"But I'm your brother!" Gojo protested, acting all dumb around you again. He just had that complex where you were concerned. He has always been very soft on you yet he was also fiercely protective. You hated his attention though. Yours was a strange dynamic.

"Worry about your wedding, will you? Geez. Don’t you have a luncheon to host?"

"Why did you kiss him then? On the mouth no less!"

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation rising like cold water from his toes going up his chest. He wanted to hear what you had to say. Fuck principles. He needed his answers, too. It did not matter in what way he was getting them at that rate. He was secretly hoping you will say something a little bit more revealing about what goes inside your head given that he cannot just pry inside it even if he wanted to.

"Because I wanted to." You stated it so matter-of-factly that Gojo was at a loss for words for a moment. “Didn’t you hear me? I was dying to do that since he arrived.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You tell me.” That’s becoming your signature line. “You won’t understand unless you kiss, Nanamin, too,” the tenor of your words turning fanciful. “He has such an alluring taste to him.”

What is this woman on about?

“Oh, god, stop it!”

"You should have seen the looks on your faces though. I was half expecting your eyeballs to roll on the floor. Wouldn’t that have been grand? It’s definitely shocking but a good subject for art if not a medium." At that, you laughed, the sound hitting Nanami like tinkling bells. It was such a happy sound that reminded him of better days although the thought that prompted it was utterly macabre. “Maybe that should inspire my next work. It would be like Munch’s The Scream, the next of its kind.”

"Hmm. Good point…” Gojo mumbled, sidetracked, obviously sharing your sentiments on the idea of such grotesqueness, but regained his composure just as quickly. “It's not funny!"

"But it is." Your laughter subsided as quickly as it erupted from your throat as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Your capricious nature was surfacing once more, and if there was something that was more frightening than your strong, habitual liking for trifling with people, it was that. "So what if I have other intentions behind it? Are you gonna get mad at me or something?”

"Well, do you?!" Gojo sounded like a manatee on the throes of death.

“But what are you going to do, brother? Stop me perhaps?"

He of all people should know just how unstoppable you were when you have set yourself into doing something. “N-no –”

“And what if Nanamin has the same intentions? What will you do then?”

“Hey, that’s enough of you. I know you’re trying to trap me into saying something again.” He clucked his tongue. “I seem to be the only one who isn’t in on your games, and if it is one, I have to know. You’re just way too outrageous these days that I cannot tell what’s serious and what’s not anymore.”

Gojo took a deep breath, sounding distressed as he exhaled. “Is there something else going on?”

"Maybe,” you answered noncommittally.

"That's not an answer at all!" he snapped.

You clucked your tongue, sounding irritated. "Stop screaming, Satoru."

"Do you like him?"

“Is your emphasis on that word supposed to change its meaning?”

If Nanami’s heart was skipping earlier, it has now stopped completely, robbing him of air as it seemed to have affected his lungs, too. You were maddening, not only to Gojo but to him as well. It was evident that you were in your gaming mood again, and although you were only intentionally riling your brother, he was also directly in your line of assault.

Gojo sighed in defeat, mirroring Nanami’s feelings. “Y/N, please, just answer the question,” he whined.

“I guess.” There was a pause then you said, "I mean, what's not to like?"

"What?!"

“Like it or not, Nanamin is a very excellent specimen of the male populace. He’s fucking irresistible and that’s an understatement.” You scoffed. "Even you like him."

Your voice was followed by your footsteps as you neared the door. In a daze at your vocal expression of how you find him physically attractive, instead of backtracking, Nanami stepped forward and collided with your form, nearly knocking you off your feet. He was after all twice your size and a good foot taller than you.

"Careful," he said between deep breaths, one arm securing you by the waist while his other arm gripped onto the door jamb, the position making the veins and sinews of his arm rather pronounced.

“Speak of the devil…” You straightened up, not making any effort to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Your head turned towards the direction of the breakfast room, making him mimic the action only to see Gojo standing slack-jawed, watching what was unfolding before him with eyes wide with shock. Nanami could've sworn his best friend just went into a state of catatonia.

"Didn't see you there," you said, addressing Nanami, your blue eyes assessing him as if in suspicion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, feeling the tips of his ears heating up. Before you could notice, he stepped aside, heading towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hey, Nanamin," you suddenly called, making him halt and turn his head to your direction. You were smirking at the direction of your brother as you said, "Nice ass."

He shook his head. It was really just a ploy to get to Gojo’s nerves, and he was your pawn.

**

The sound of graphite scratching on paper like a harsh slash of sword punctuated the impending absence of thought in your mind. Nothing mattered but the sight of your hand gripping a pencil as it created unintelligible strokes on the plain page of the sketchbook on your lap. It progressed to furious scribbling, your movements becoming faster, the sound dominating your corner of the room. Everything has been drowned out – the endless chattering, the sound of porcelain and silverware hitting each other in chaotic cacophony – heightening in a painful crescendo of auditory abomination and dying in the air, overwhelmed by the picture you were creating on the blank expanse of space.

“You must be so proud of your daughter.”

Scratch.

“Who wouldn’t be? It must be great to have geniuses for children”

Scratch.

“She’s just as famous as Satoru.”

Scratch.

Just like that, they didn't exist. The room was empty save for you and the view outside the window coming to life on paper. Your eyes darted from your sketch to the familiar yet equally exhilarating view just outside the parlor. Gojo was animatedly talking about something, easily excitable as always. His fiancée laughed on the side while Nanami was witheringly eyeing him, stoic as always. Shoko, who arrived the previous evening, also joined the group. All that was missing was Geto. You wondered if you should draw him somewhere in the sketch.

The image before you reminded you of those days when reality seemed far away, back when Gojo was still a student, exceptional as always but still young, not the renowned genius tycoon he was at present. His friends would always be around him, lounging around the manor like they hadn't a care in the world.

His crowd grew in number with Geto and Nanami being the two closest pals he had. Shoko joined in shortly in middle school. On the other hand, Utahime came during his university days, also starting off as Gojo’s friend and eventually becoming his girlfriend. Now they were about to get married and it seemed to punctuate all the changes that came with being the grown-ups that they are.

It scared you.

Fact is, growing up and growing old and the changes that come with it was terrifying. Even if you yourself were already twenty four, seemingly had your life together and appearing to have matured without a hitch, that wasn’t the case at all. Genius or not, your brother also had his issues even while he was rising to his current position in society.

The problem was within you, you knew it. That and the fact that you did not really know what growing means. Your work grew, matured like crazy. You didn’t think you yourself grew, stuck in those days when everything was relatively easier. At least then, you only had to worry about your classmates hating on you. Now a part of the public did.

Looking at Gojo and his gang, they’ve all handled that well, making you wonder how they did it. He is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, having built his business empire at just seventeen. Your future sister-in-law is a professor, Geto is a sought-after model and Shoko is a forensic pathologist. They were all great at what they did, struggled as well, but came out with perfect grace.

However, you think the best one out of them was none other than the object of your pining – Nanami Kento. The man made transitioning to adulthood look rather easy. Maybe it was because he had always been mature and held himself in perfect equilibrium. Sure, he was no Gojo Satoru, but he was innately intelligent and became one of the youngest barristers who held the position of a famous attorney’s partner. He handled controversial cases and is one of the best prosecutors in the country with a high winning percentage. His work aside, he seemed to have the least struggle out of everyone.

Your lips curled up at the corners at the thought of the man. Your gaze flicked to him from the sketchbook, sitting there with a beverage in his hand, the noon sun glimmering on his hair and the planes of his face, looking more laid back without a blazer on. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of khaki trousers and dusty blue button-ups, but he still looked smart. He always dressed that way which you found very attractive although seeing him in more casual clothes like that morning was another level of hot altogether. He’s quite a bit formal, making him seem monotonous, but it’s that consistency that you liked about him. It was only a bonus that he was devastatingly handsome with those sharp features and the suits made him look so sexy in that it left everything about his real physique to imagination.

One just could not get enough of him, at least you couldn’t, but you did see how his partner’s paralegal eyeballed him all the time. (You secretly wanted to gouge her eyes out.) That’s the kind of man Nanami was. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it leaves profound dents to one’s psyche. And man, was he hot in court! He’s fucking sarcastic when he wants to be, to the point of being vile, but one just can’t get offended with the kind of logic he has. Once he speaks his mind, one wishes he wouldn’t stop, but he does and leaves that person craving more, his hypnotic, deep voice a rare treat. He wasn’t big on actions, wasn’t expressive, but when he does something, it’s always with purpose and precision, never over the top and always with disciplined stoicism.

You chuckled quietly, your pencil drawing perfect strokes of his hair when you were pulled out of your trance.

“Yuuji!” you heard Gojo say, pulling your attention to the direction of the window.

You broke into a grin at the mention of the name, hurriedly getting on your feet and running out of the room, deaf to your mother’s protests against your unladylike behavior – the commotion foreign to the ladies in the room who moved with the minutest rustles. You made your way out to the patio, that familiar tuft of pink hair coming into your line of vision. You sprinted through the glass doors towards the person whose name your brother called, smile wide and genuine.

“You kept me waiting long enough,” you called out, voice louder than usual. You’re hardly ever giddy nor were you easily excitable like your brother, but Itadori Yuuji was a different story altogether. You loved the boy with a fierceness akin to a mother and were always ecstatic to be around him but suppressed it by acting gruff. You were crazy like that.

“That’s because you won’t help me with my final requirements,” he retorted good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nuzzling the back of your head as if you were a fuzzy plush toy, making you drop your drawing implements. Well, you were considerably smaller than him, and he was probably the only one who could do that to you and get away unscathed.

You rolled your eyes, noticing how Gojo had picked up your stuff, looking at the page where it was opened. “You should exert yourself more. You’re no genius after all.”

“That’s mean!”

You smirked at him, your eyes straying to your brother who was smiling at your drawing. He had such a proud, fond look on his face that you couldn’t do anything but stare. He has always been ever since you first held crayons and drew him as a cat. “You even included Suguru,” he cooed, pointing at the missing person you included then proceeding to show it off to his friends. “Guys, look. My baby sister drew us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you sallied, but you were happy that he’s always showing you off.

Utahime and Shoko stood beside him, also looking at the sketch. The latter raised a thumb at your direction. “Damn, kid. You’re really great at what you do. How do you make things come alive with just a pencil?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I –”

“Give it here,” Nanami suddenly butted in, hand reaching for the sketchpad which Gojo promptly handed him.

You felt Yuuji elbowing you while you stood there, observing the man who was in possession of your drawing.

Nanami blinked then, handing it back to you. “How come I don’t have a face?” he asked, expression expectant of your response.

Annoyed, you snatched it back from him.

“It’s obviously not finished yet,” Shoko commented, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was not that you cannot, but you would never draw his face. Ever. You tried tons of times if the tens of pages of sketchpads at your apartment filled with different angles and parts of him would be a basis for that. You could draw everything else about him, just not his face. No amount of contemplation and practice helped you to know why, but you attributed it to the fact that you could not do his face justice, at least in the sense that you would not be able to bring it to life as Shoko said.

Finally, you said, “I didn’t feel like drawing your face.” You turned away, dragging Yuuji with you. The boy was still giggling like a hyena until you got to the second-floor balcony where you propped yourself up on the balustrade, looking sulky.

"You might fall there, you know," he commented, jumping up the marble balustrade to join you.

"I can say the same for you," came your quiet reply. "Where's Megumi?"

“He’ll be here before lunch.” Yuuji leaned close to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “What, or rather who, is that look on your face for?”

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Did you tell Nanamin?" He addressed the man just as you did and got away with it, too, for some reason.

"Tell him what?"

He scoffed playfully. "Are you seriously playing this game with me? I'm your best buddy. I know everything."

"As irritating as that is, it's true."

Yuuji pouted at you. "I heard what you did yesterday. Why do you have to make games out of everything?"

"That's how I communicate. I thought you knew everything."

Harsh as always, he thought. "Be a normal person for once and just tell him." His brows knit together. "Well, you're anything but normal," he mused aloud. “I meant that nicely.”

You blew a raspberry. "You're just as normal as I am if you claim to be my best friend. Which you are. No take backs."

Yuuji couldn't help but smile at that. You have always been a loner and you did not mind being alone. He was grateful you wanted him around despite that.

"But you should stop doing this. He wants you. It's obvious."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't simple? If it's Satoru, he'll understand for sure if you just try to be honest. I'm sure he just isn't for it more because he doesn't know how you feel. I mean, if I were him, I'll also protect my baby sister from my male friends. That's just how it is."

You blinked, pivoting your whole body so you were facing him.

"Well, of course, Nanamin needs to fight for it, too," he was quick to throw in, rambling to himself when he suddenly felt you reach out towards him, gently running your fingers through his pink hair. He leaned towards your touch, smiling contentedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not –"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you seriously playing this game with me?" you asked, mimicking his words earlier. "I'm your best buddy. I know everything, one of them being the fact that you worry worse than my mother."

Yuuji jumped off the balustrade, reaching out to grab you in a bear hug despite your protestations. Just like how you were with everyone else, you shunned his affection, but he knew better than to let go when you were saying exactly that. He found that trait of yours adorable.

"You're so irritating," you hissed, flipping your platinum white hair over your shoulder when you finally managed to get off his grip but he wrapped an arm over your shoulder nonetheless, undeterred by your words.

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

Yuuji pouted. "You sound like Megumi."

"I heard that," the person in question suddenly spoke from the direction of the entry, his deep voice making you and Yuuji turn towards him. "They're calling everyone for lunch."

Yuuji followed behind as you approached Megumi, also one of your closest friends and practically your brother, keeping you in check more than Gojo ever can.

"Guess what," Megumi said to you as you walked beside him. In one of the rare moments you would see it, he grinned and you knew it wasn't because of anything good.

"What?" you and Yuuji, who thought the same by the look on his face, chorused.

"Nobara switched your name card with Miwa's. You're now seated next to your man candy. You're welcome."

“Isn’t that more of a perk for Miwa? She’s scared shitless of Nanamin, you know.”

The three of you laughed while Yuuji could just shake his head at the inescapable trouble that will follow. His only consolation was that it’s fun when it involves you.

**

What were the odds, Nanami thought to himself. He didn't have to look twice to see whose name it was on the card on the spot next to him. He exhaled loudly, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. This could only lead to hullabaloo he was not exactly in the mood to deal with especially after you just told him you did not feel like drawing his face. You sure were mean when you wanted to be.

He surveyed his vicinity. Your father, the current head of the clan from whence your blue eyes came from, was seated at the head of the table, your mother to his right, while Utahime’s parents sat to his left. It seemed to have been the only formalities observed in the arrangement. From across Nanami sat Utahime and Gojo while on his right were a couple he only knew as cousins to the Gojo main family.

He was internally pinching the bridge of his nose. You really had to be the one seated next to him and right across your annoying brother, too.

The luncheon started without you. It wasn't a formal gathering after all except they were serving a full-course meal. It was more of a way to get everyone to know one another over the week for some reason he cannot fathom, and he was glad that only your father was the one who had engaged him in a conversation, mostly about work. It was easy enough to deal with.

"Where are Y/N and her friends?" your mother asked Gojo out of the blue.

Utahime, answering for the clueless person beside her, pointed towards the direction of the door to the banquet hall where you were leisurely walking towards your designated seat with Yuuji and Megumi. The former rounded the table to sit next to Gojo.

"Still managing to be late even when you're already at the venue, baby sis?" Nanami heard Gojo say as you assumed your seat. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted from Nanami to you that your tardiness wasn't exactly the problem.

You blatantly ignored his comment and turned your attention to Nanami. "Had a good run this morning, Nanamin?"

"Just so," he answered, side-glancing at you.

"Yeah. You looked super hot this morning," you said just as Gojo was taking a sip from his wine glass.

Megumi snorted when the older male started choking on his drink while Yuuji was trying hard not to laugh.

Nanami knew he would have reacted the same way except that he had been bracing himself for whatever you will say the moment Gojo opened his mouth. Of course you will use him in your counter attack. It's yet another game, not that he was less affected by your words.

"You should have seen him, Iori," you continued, addressing your brother's fiancée. "He looks so much less uptight in casual clothes."

It didn't escape Nanami’s notice how Gojo was looking at him. He looked about ready to drop onto the floor, but paid him no mind as he leveled his mouth to your ear. "Y/N, let's not make your dear brother snap, shall we?"

"Oh, sweetheart, maybe that's what he needs right now," you deadpanned, meeting his gaze squarely, your disposition unreadable as you let your eyes linger on him longer than was deemed appropriate.

Yuuji finally laughed, earning him a kick to the shins under the table courtesy of Megumi.

What it was about you that made everything else irrelevant and nonexistent when you’re that close to him was something beyond him. You always made him lose control, tempted him to break the rules. He only knew he couldn't act on it. Most of the time anyway. He also felt like laughing, oddly enough.

Utahime just chuckled good-naturedly breaking the tension. "Since the two of you are here, I should tell you that the final fitting for your clothes for the wedding is this afternoon. So, you better go together at the shop."

"Traitor." Gojo pouted at Utahime but nobody was really paying attention to him anymore. For someone so important to society with a flawless image, the closest people around him sure were good at disregarding him when they deemed it fit.

"Okay," Nanami said, looking at you for confirmation.

It was you who looked away this time. "I'm free."

"That's set then." Utahime clapped her hands and to Nanami she cheekily said, "Maybe wear something less formal."

At that, you grinned wickedly at him. So much for avoiding trouble with you.

-end of part 2-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

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Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210709] PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.