#cherry is from the domes but her parents left with her when she was around 10

[arolesbianism]

I recently decided to semi revive some of my crusty dusty splatoon ocs from when I was like 12, so here’s all of the goobers! Meet Cherry (she/her), Slosh (he/they), Egg (they/them), and Blast (she/they)

[caffeineivore]

For @apsaraqueen

This was written as cheerupemofic for BAMF a few weeks-ish ago, I think? Never got around to posting it but here it goes. Somewhat experimental R/J. Some angst but... it’s, uh, for BAMF? So. Yeah.

***

“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” - Pablo Neruda

I.

The Moon is beautiful and stately, all marble palaces and graceful domes, but leached of colour in an eerie wash of silvery white. Jikokuten takes a knee in the throne room and looks askance at the royals, for even they blend into this ghostly dream-world with their pearlescent gowns and platinum locks. The weather and grounds are flawless, not a single leaf or stone out of place. It’s almost too perfect-- ominously so-- and to one whose kingdom only dons white for mourning, it’s jarring. 

And then he sees the High Queen’s court file in, the warrior princesses of legend, flanking the throne two by two, and there she is, a spot of scarlet in the sea of white. Ebony hair and auspicious red skirts, eyes like the twilight sky before it turns full dark. He blinks, and his heart stutters. 

II.

The sheep are languishing in the heat, and getting leaner by the day with nothing but dry brush to eat, and Jochi coaxes some of his own water onto the littlest and weakest of the lambs. It’s foolish, and more than likely the little animal would die anyway, too malnourished to survive the drought which had blighted the steppes this summer. His father had always railed at him for being too soft-hearted, too foolish and un-Mongolian, but a part of Jochi always had perhaps too much sympathy for the foundlings and the weaker ones. There is a nebulous memory, perhaps not his own, of standing up for a boy with eyes like the open sky and a shock of black hair from-- what? He doesn’t quite know.

He hears the sound of hoofbeats-- it is a grand procession, the entourage of one of the Khans, and that is both blessing and curse, for they would surely bring much-needed supplies and victuals if returning from a successful raid, but just as surely would bring death and doom against any interlopers or opposing factions. Jochi’s yellow hair would stand out like a beacon, and so he pulls up his hood despite the summer heat and draws back into the shadows to watch the group. The warriors are fearsome indeed astride their ponies, bows and sabers at the ready. There is an iron-haired Chieftain at the forefront, proud and indomitable with eyes as fierce as a falcon’s. And then right behind him, dwarfed by the stalwarts flanking her, must be the clan’s princess, wearing a fine red dress and ornaments of silver and amber around her neck and atop her raven hair. She’s beautiful, with eyes as fearless as her Sire’s, but more so, something about her face strikes such a pang in Jochi that he forgets himself, and steps forward, right into the path of the procession. He’s knocked senseless not a moment later under the marauding hooves, but he only has eyes for the desert-mirage loveliness of the princess’ face.

III.

Jun doesn’t meet Ru-Yi until the wedding. She’s brought over to his familial estate in a lavish palanquin, amidst loud, raucous music and the rapid pops of firecrackers, and escorted to the altar by the servants to kneel next to his older brother Kai. As the heir apparent, it is imperative that Kai make a good marriage to a wife who would not shame him and brings all the right assets to the match, and Ru-Yi’s father is a very wealthy, powerful man. The newlyweds courtesy to their parents and each other, and then someone lifts the bride’s red veil away from her face, and Jun almost drops his goblet of wine. It is a stunningly elegant face, all cherry lips and willowy brows, but what’s more, though he’s certain he has never met her before, it’s somehow familiar. She, too, seems to feel it, because her eyes linger on his for a moment too long, a thin line of confusion drawing between those brows, before she turns away with a bland smile for the procession of well-wishers. 

Despite the many presents of dates and lotus seeds on the wedding day, and, months and years later, the foul-smelling tonics and powders, she never bears Kai any sons, and Jun watches, heart heavy, as Kai takes on one concubine after another, carouses in the brothels night after night, as the lines between Ru-Yi’s brows grow deeper and deeper with cheated joy and thwarted wishes. He doesn’t care if she doesn’t bear any sons, but she’s not his concern-- will never be his concern. There are flowers left on her doorstep in the mornings, still wet with dew and with neither name nor note. It’s poor consolation for both of them, but she’s not his to love.

IV.

The air is arid and far too hot, almost tinged the same turmeric-yellow as the hot sun blazing down overhead. Captain Geoffrey Lindhurst with Her Majesty’s navy had been in India for all of four months, and is still getting accustomed to the local climate, so different from the ever-present London fog. The local food, too, is a far departure from the starchy Sunday roasts and meat pies and puddings of his boyhood, with its exotic spices and bountiful portions. The servants at his bungalow are politely quiet and do their tasks without complaint, but he has the sense that there is far more to their lives and customs than the scant glimpses that he sees now and then.

He’s out taking a walk on a balmy evening, and passes by one of the temples. He knows nothing of the religious beliefs of the locals, with their somewhat-fearsome-looking, animalistic gods with their fiery eyes and six hands and elephant heads, but many of the locals seem quite devout in their faith, praying several times a day and eschewing certain foods in their diets. Even at this late hour, the temple is open for worshippers, its air smoky with incense, and he sees a young woman emerge, clad in the flowing, traditional garments with a gauzy scarf over her dark hair. His gaze meets hers for only a split-second-- light blue to orchid-- but it jolts his system harder than a glass of raw gin. He has no idea who she is, and moreover, everything in his training and upbringing tells him that he has no business dallying with any of the locals. Geoffrey opens his mouth to speak, against everything that he’s known all his life, but she vanishes down one of the narrow paths and disappears into the night before he can say anything, or be quite sure that she wasn’t just an illusion, a trick of the light. 

He visits the temple enough in his years stationed here that he gets to learn the local traditions and customs, and indeed become quite familiar with their rituals. But he never sees her again.

V. 

The dame walks into his dilapidated hole-in-the-wall of an office on stiletto heels the red of fresh blood. Jack knows trouble when he sees it, and she’s all but radiating it like smoke surrounding a wildfire. “Help you, ma’am?” He keeps his voice brusque and businesslike even as she shrugs off a lustrous black mink stole to reveal crimson silk and fiery diamonds, curves in all the right places. “What brings you to this side of town?”

“I need a private investigator, and they say you’re the best. My driver’s outside, and he’s bigger and meaner than you,” she adds in a snide tone to match the diamond earrings. “My name is Rowena Warrington. Henry Warrington’s daughter.”

The Governor’s daughter has as much business in the seedy part of downtown as he would rubbing shoulders with millionaires in a fancy ballroom. “Don’t you have security, or lawyers, or whatever, to deal with whatever you’re dealing with, Ms. Warrington? This is a bad neighbourhood.”

“And no one’s been able to figure out the truth behind my mother’s death, so here I am.” Presumptuously, she makes herself at home, sitting down in a battered folding metal chair like it’s a throne as she lights a cigarette. “Price is no object, of course.”

“No.”

He won’t be swayed, because this is exactly the type of trouble that he doesn’t want, even though she turns on the wheedle, and later, the tears. He lets her leave in high dudgeon, and shuts the door behind her, and tells himself that his instinct-- one that tells him in no uncertain terms that he’d narrowly escaped a terrible fate-- was spot-on. And he busies himself with the usual mundane work which flows in every day like water through a leaky pot-- fraud cases. Stolen heirlooms. Prisoners on the lam. Cheating spouses.

He reads about the huge, tragic scandal some months later in the paper-- the cover-ups, the blood money, the extortion, the beautiful young woman whose life is tragically cut short because she’d had the audacity to poke her flawless nose where it definitely didn’t belong and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and is shocked at the grief which hits him. He owed her nothing, he tells himself as he broods into his second whiskey. She said herself that her driver was bigger and meaner than him. She should’ve been safe. Should’ve been careful. 

Should’ve been protected, with one’s very life. 

He throws the newspaper into the fire and watches it curl up into ash as he pours himself another one.

VI.

The busful of unconscious mortals is just where he wants them, of course, and Jadeite goes about the business of collecting their energy, siphoning it for Queen Metallia’s use. It’s rote and routine, but then a flash of scarlet catches his eye, and it’s the miko from the temple at the last bus-stop. Black and white and red all over, and he pauses, kneels down to move a strand of her lustrous black hair out of her face. 

“So beautiful. Ever since I’ve seen this girl, there’s something about her…” Something haunting, like a hint of incense smoke that clings to the air or a raven’s feather, black against white pavement, a memory that is-and-isn’t his. With a gentleness that he’s not had cause to employ in a very long time, he carefully shifts her into a more comfortable position, one more like natural sleep than the unconsciousness of a sinister spell, and lingers, unable to tear his eyes away from her exquisite, weirdly familiar face, until the all-too-unfortunate shouts of angry feminine voices tells him that he is not alone, and the Sailor senshi have arrived.

The miko opens her eyes and everything snaps into place a split-second before she transforms and a rage of fire heads for him, and he has but a moment to mouth the word ‘Sorry’, unheard and unacknowledged, before the flame hits in a wall of agony and heat. It’s no more or less than he deserves.

VII

The world is lustrous, glistening crystal, but unlike the Silver Millennium and the Moon Kingdom, the diamond brilliance of the towers bring colours into sharp relief, turning white sunlight into countless prismatic rainbows and reflecting the pale blue of the sky as rich sapphire. Jadeite takes a knee with his compatriots in the throne room and bows his head before the royals-- his King and Queen, united at last. Countless lives had been lived to lead to this-- an entry to a paradise hard-earned. 

There she is, still, raven hair and red skirts, and after, when everyone has broken off into their groups, he seeks her out. He has no reason to expect a positive reception, but the words are long overdue, and she has a right to them. 

“Lady Mars.” He makes an elaborate leg, as one might have done in a decadent court in the era of gilt and Rococo. She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t storm away or glare, and that’s something.

“No need to stand on ceremony, Lord Jadeite. We’ve met before. More than once, I daresay.”

��And I’ve loved you every time.” The words are baldly spoken and perhaps too blunt, in poor form, but they’ve been buried for far too many years and lifetimes already. She halts, and he notices that her breath isn’t quite steady, and that gives him the courage to remain where he is instead of making a hasty escape.

Finally, a queer sort of half-smile crosses her face as she tilts it back up to his. “You’ve been terrible about showing it up to now, haven’t you?”

“Up to now,” he agrees. “It doesn’t have to remain so. Unless you wish it.”

“Hmm.” She glances away, but stays standing where she is, within reach. “I suppose we’ll have to see.”

[mikauzoran]

Ladrien/Adrienette: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve: The Realization

Adrien scooted away, back to a suitable distance on the picnic blanket. “Um…so…maybe we should talk about, like, normal things now?” he suggested, grabbing a petit four from the tiered tea tray.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Ladybug chuckled nervously, scratching at her cheek as she tried to take deep breaths to get her racing heart rate and flaming blush down. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You,” he replied immediately.

Her blush only worsened. “What about me?”

“Personal things…but not incredibly personal things,” he gave a temperate response, reaching but not pushing too hard. “You know. Things like your favourite book, favourite movie, favourite colour. What kind of music you listen to. Hobbies. Tell me about you.”

“Only if you tell me about you too,” she haggled.

He chuckled as his own cheeks started to heat up. “You haven’t had enough of getting to know the real Adrien Agreste yet? I would have thought I’d have scared you off a dozen times over by now.”

She shook her head and smiled shyly. “Definitely not. What you’ve told me has only made me more intrigued.”

He gave her an appraising once-over, debating before finally giving in. “All right. So long as you’re not sick of me yet.”

“Never,” she assured. “First question?”

“What colour are your bedroom walls painted?” he inquired.

She quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected question and took a minute before answering cautiously. “…Pink. Why?”

“What shade?” he pressed, wanting to be able to envisage it exactly.

“Light pink. Like cherry blossoms,” she granted, giving in to his curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering about the girl on the other side of the mask,” he confessed. “Sometimes I think about what she’s like, what kinds of activities she does in her free time, what kinds of things she surrounds herself with.”

She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked away. “I don’t know if I’m worth that much thought,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m just a normal girl. Not that interesting.”

“You’re interesting to me,” he informed gently, a soft affection in his eyes that made her chest feel tight.

“Oh…. I…I’m glad,” she managed with a bashful smile, wishing she could get across what his words truly meant to her. “Well…in that case…what’s your next question?”

The rest of their rooftop picnic continued in that vein with Ladybug sharing that she was a huge fan of Jagged Stone but had developed a liking for the music XY was putting out since he cut ties with his father’s label and started collaborating with Luka Couffaine.

Adrien confessed that he didn’t do well with scary movies because they gave him nightmares and made him afraid to shower.

“What horror movie had anything to do with showers?” Ladybug replied quizzically. “You mean because of the shower scene in The Shining or Psycho?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen those movies, actually, and the trailer for The Shining freaked me out enough that I feel like I’ve experienced enough of it for one lifetime,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s just…I feel so vulnerable in there. Naked. Alone. I feel like a sitting duck. Anything could come and get me while I was defenseless. I’m really easily startled after I see a horror movie, so I’m always anxious about showering for at least a week afterwards.”

Ladybug nodded, trying (and failing) not to picture Adrien in his shower complete with a stereotypically sexy backing track. It also took some effort not to volunteer to sit in his bathroom with him while he showered to protect him after he next watched a horror film.

She was very tempted to suggest watching a horror movie as part of their date so that she could make the offer.

Instead, she replied, “I can see why you would feel that way. I’m always jumpy after watching horror films too” like a normal, non-psychotic person.

They cleaned up their picnic and stowed the leftovers in the wicker basket, tucking it back into the seam between the roof and one of the small white domes topping the church for Ladybug to return for later.

She got out her yoyo and surreptitiously dropped them down into an alley a few streets over so that they could nonchalantly walk out and join the crowd of visitors enjoying the iconic sights and locals going about their daily lives.

“Um…I thought we could do some window shopping?” Ladybug tentatively suggested. “Walk around? People watch? Browse? It’s a nice day, so… I mean, I know it’s a little touristy, but—”

“—That sounds great,” he cut her off with a wide grin, slipping his hand into hers. “I actually haven’t seen much of Paris, despite growing up here,” he confessed sheepishly. “I’ve always been a little…um…”

He tried to think of a nice way to say, “held prisoner”.

“…sheltered, I guess, so I wouldn’t be opposed to playing tourist, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. No. Sure!” she agreed, a little flustered by the proximity of his radiant smile in the narrow alley as well as the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. “I’m happy so long as you’re happy.”

“I’m happy just being with you,” he countered with a wink, not noticing how she turned into a puddle of goo in response.

He gave her hand a squeeze and turned to guide them out of the alley and onto the cobbled street where visitors from all over the globe were moving from one shop to the next.

They too began to browse, chuckling at the whacky souvenirs for sale in shop after shop: cheap plastic trinkets, shirts, hats, magnets, shot glasses, snow globes…

Adrien held up a Paris-themed oven mitt in black, white, pink, and grey. “This is actually kind of cute,” he chuckled, musing, “It reminds me of Marinette…. I wonder if she’d like it.”

“I think she’d like anything if it was from you,” Ladybug sighed, heart filling to the brim once more as his thoughts drifted to her civilian identity.

Why had she never seen how much he liked her, how much Marinette meant to Adrien? She’d been blinded by his not obviously reciprocating her romantic feelings, so she’d missed out on how much he truly cared for her.

“You think?” he hummed, pleased at her response. “Maybe, but it’s not really practical. I’m sure she has dozens of oven mitts already with her parents being bakers, but… Could you do me a favor?” He looked to her with earnest eyes that made her gulp.

She bit her tongue to hold back the automatic, “Anything for you” that wanted to come out. “Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

“Could you take a picture and send it to me so I can text it to Marinette later? I left my phone at home so that my family couldn’t track the GPS,” he informed sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she readily agreed, taking a peek around to make sure that no one was watching before she flipped open her yoyo and snapped a quick picture, forwarding it to him.

“Thanks, Nelle,” he expressed warmly, as if she had fulfilled one of Princess Kaguya’s impossible quests.

“Sure thing.” She blushed as she boldly dared to join their hands once more, interlacing her fingers with his.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

She loved when he did that.

 “They even have the stereotypical accordion music,” Adrien snickered in amusement as he tossed a hundred euro note into the performer’s case as they passed. “It’s just like in the movies.”

“You’ve never been up here to Montmartre before?” Ladybug tried not to laugh as the accordionist quickly snatched the bill and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.

Adrien shook his head. “I mean, I’ve been for work, but I’ve never been able to just wander around like this. It’s so different, seeing it in a relaxed, natural atmosphere.”

Ladybug nodded, guiding him towards the Place du Tertre, a little cobbled square where artists had set up to sell their work. “Yeah, I’d imagine a photoshoot wouldn’t provide a very calm environment during which to sightsee.”

“Yeah, unfortunately not. It’s kind of…structured,” he sighed, getting distracted by a middle-aged artist setting out beautiful pastel watercolors of Notre Dame in different seasons at sunset as seen from the Left Bank.

“I wish I was artistic,” he hummed mournfully, moving along to peruse the other artists’ wares before he was tempted or coerced into buying something.

“You could be,” Ladybug encouraged, stepping in closer to avoid a collision with a young American woman who was also browsing.

He shook his head, laughing good-naturedly at himself. “I have, like, zero talent. I can’t even do stick-figures well.”

“You could if you practiced,” she insisted. “It’s true that some people are born with innate talent, but drawing and painting can be learned even if they don’t come naturally. Being artistic is a skill, and, with enough practice, you could learn to be artistic too.”

He hummed as he stopped to admire a medium-sized canvas where an autumn scene set in the Bois de Boulogne was taking form with scarlet, ochre, and tangerine leaves peppering the trees.

“I think ‘enough’ practice would take many years. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try,” he reasoned. “I’m definitely not going to magically gain the ability to produce anything close to that just by whining about how I wish I could do it.”

“You’re not whining,” she assured, inching in closer so that their shoulders brushed. She gave him a shy, heartening smile. “You’re just being honest about what you want for yourself, and it’s okay to do that. It’s not whining.”

She knew his father was often very critical and chastised Adrien whenever he seemed to slide even one toe over the arbitrary line Gabriel had mentally drawn for him. If possible, she wanted to help Adrien to see that it was okay to voice his desires and complaints from time to time without it being considered “whining”.

“Thanks,” he replied softly, the warm look in his eyes partially obscured behind his movie star sunglasses, but she was close enough to see it. “I really appreciate the encouragement. I don’t exactly get a lot of that.”

“Well, I’ll have to see about changing that,” she declared, giving his arm a squeeze.

He smiled affectionately, and they walked on around the square, continuing to browse the various artists’ renditions of many a famous Paris landmark.

“…You know,” he remarked thoughtfully. “My father actually does a fair amount of drawing for work. Maybe I could ask him to teach me.”

“That could be a good way to spend time together,” she agreed, nodding with a supportive smile.

Adrien cringed. “Except that my father isn’t the most patient man, so he’d probably get frustrated with my turtle’s pace progress and end up berating me instead of helping me get better. That’s kind of how our relationship works,” he admitted with a discouraged sigh.

Ladybug bit her lip, searching her mind for a way to build up his self-esteem and lighten the mood. “Well, Marinette isn’t the best artist around, but she does do some drawing as part of her own designing work, so, if you really want to learn, maybe she could get you started in the right direction.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Adrien chuckled, turning his head to look at her. “Marinette…”

His brain ran into a mental brick wall as it processed for the first time how close she was and how familiar she looked…and not only because of how long he had cumulatively spent over the years staring at her as Ladybug.

“…Marinette…” he whispered, a revelation shaking him to his very core.

Ladybug had known him and fallen in love with him as a civilian, yet she didn’t think he’d say yes if she asked him out as herself. Ladybug and Marinette had intended to ask him out to coffee at the same time. The way Marinette acted around Chat Noir… He’d always marveled at how sassy and fun she was with him when he was the masked superhero as opposed to how she could barely talk to Adrien for about a year after they’d first met. In those moments when it was just Marinette and Chat Noir hanging out and being goofballs, she had reminded him so much of his Lady.

Now that he was looking at Ladybug and saying, “Marinette”, it all seemed so obvious.

Ladybug tipped her head to the side, waiting for Adrien to continue. “‘Marinette’…what? Is something wrong, Adrien?”

“Nope. Everything’s wonderful, Nette—uh—Nelle. Sorry. Just…” He mentally scrambled to pull together his thoughts and snap back into the moment because she was not going to be happy when she found out her secret was blown, and he really just wanted this date to continue forever, so…

“Sorry.” He covered up his flurry of thoughts with a practiced smile. “Just got distracted thinking about how wonderful Marinette is.”

“O-Oh,” she coughed, a crimson blush swelling up in her cheeks as she bashfully looked away. “Yeah. That’s…Marinette is…good.”

It had to be her…didn’t it? He was almost ninety-nine percent positive. There had to be some way to explain away the times he’d thought he’d seen them together over the years. Both his Lady and his Princess were smart enough to orchestrate some kind of elaborate scheme to throw him off the scent.

“Marinette is amazing,” he stressed, trying to keep his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin under wraps. “She’s super talented and such a fantastic person. If anyone could teach me how to draw, it would be her.”

Ladybug’s blush deepened. “You should ask her, then.”

“I think I will,” Adrien chuckled. “…Do you happen to draw, Nelle?”

“Uh…a little,” she answered, slightly thrown off by the question and still unsettled by his effusive praise of her civilian self. “I mean, I’m not very good, but I enjoy sketching and doodling.”

“What do you draw?” he inquired as innocently as possible.

“Oh, this and that,” she hedged with a shrug.

“Do you ever draw clothing?” he pressed, throwing his scruples out the window along with his resolution not to try to figure out her identity.

“Uh…sometimes,” she admitted. “I mean, like I said, I’m not very good, but…I like designing clothes and accessories. It’s always fun, especially when I have someone in mind I’m designing for. It’s fun to see how I can make their personalities come out in whatever I’m making.”

“I bet you’re amazing at it,” he cooed reverently, remember all the things he’d seen Marinette make for him and their friends over the years. “Have you ever thought about pursuing fashion professionally? Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip, wondering if she was giving a little too much away.

He smiled at her, hanging on her every word as if entranced.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have given it some thought. I mean, somewhat. I don’t know that I’d make it in the big leagues like your father, but…maybe it would be nice to have a little boutique where I took commissions and did a lot of custom pieces.”

“I bet you’d be wonderful,” he replied enthusiastically, face glowing. “If you ever need help with anything, please feel free to use me as a resource. I’ve got all kinds of contacts I could set you up with. Whatever you need,” he stressed.

“Thank you,” she shyly responded, cheeks darkening to match her dress.

“Anytime,” he assured, giving her arm a playful nudge.

 They completed their loop around the square and continued window-shopping, ending up at a little café called La Gallete des Moulins for a snack because Adrien thought the fig tart that they saw through the window looked scrumptious.

“You haven’t had enough sweets for one day?” Ladybug teased, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Better be careful or you’re going to lose your girlish figure.”

Adrien waved her away as he handed the money over to the young woman manning the cash register. “I never get sweets, though. I’m running on a sweets deficit, so I have a lot of catching up to do while I’m not being strictly monitored.”

“You poor thing,” she sighed, pitying him in earnest as they headed out to the fenced-off patio area to sit. “That can’t be fun having people telling you what you can and can’t eat all the time. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

“Thanks. Though, it’s not so bad.” He smiled and shrugged it off as he set down the tray on one of the small green tables right alongside the fence and pulled out one of the wicker chairs for her with a bow. “Nino shares junk food, and Marinette, bless her, sneaks me pastries from time to time. That girl is a saint.”

“I’m glad someone is taking care of you. Thank you,” she chuckled as she took the seat.

He settled in across from her and started on his tart. “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

She eyed the tart appraisingly and considered how much she had already eaten in front of him so far. She didn’t want to look like a pig, but…

“Is it good?” she inquired.

He made an evaluating noise. “Meh. It’s not bad. The crust is nice, and the custard is nearly perfect, but it just doesn’t compare with the raspberry custard mini tarts we had earlier,” he replied honestly. “I’m sort of spoiled on Tom and Sabine’s, and the delicacies that Marinette made for us earlier just blow this out of the water. It’s not bad, though,” he judged fairly. “The figs are delicious, for one.”

“May I try a fig?” she asked, reaching out preemptively, fingers hovering over a slice.

“Go for it,” he encouraged, motioning for her to help herself. “…Hey, so…do you mind if I ask you more questions about yourself?”

She laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “You haven’t run out of questions yet? You were pretty thorough earlier.”

“I don’t think I asked the right questions,” he confessed, watching, mesmerized, as she licked the custard off of the fig.

“What kinds of questions do you have for me?” she hummed, pretending to entertain the idea of answering.

“Do you like video games?” he inquired, keeping up an innocent front, despite his firm intention to delve deeper.

In addition to Ultimate Mecha Strike, Adrien had found out as Chat Noir that Marinette was into some pretty niche games. She hadn’t mentioned them to Adrien, so Ladybug shouldn’t have any reason to suspect the trap. While it was possible that people besides Marinette had played games like Pyre, Titanic: Adventure Out of Time, and The Missing: J.J. MacField and the Island of Memories, it was unlikely that Ladybug had coincidentally played all of the same niche video games as Marinette unless they were, in fact, the same person.

One way or another, Adrien was going to find out because if they were one and the same, if it were possible to be with the woman he’d fallen for twice, Adrien was more than willing to bend some rules and break some promises. He’d waited so long already, and if she really did love him in return, maybe she’d find some way to forgive him.

 Ladybug humored him for almost an hour, answering question after question as they sat and talked and people-watched at the café.

Slowly but surely, Adrien became increasingly certain that he knew who the elusive girl behind the mask was. There was still a part of him that worried it was merely wishful thinking, but the more they talked, the more breadcrumbs she unknowingly dropped until he wanted to scream in jubilation because he had finally found her, and she had been right in front of him the entire time.

They continued their stroll around Montmartre, looping around until they came back to Sacré-Coeur. They leisurely made their way down the hill, arm-in-arm, chatting and enjoying the brisk autumn evening.

When they arrived at the Place Saint-Pierre, Adrien spotted the carrousel, and his eyes lit up. Slowly, he turned to look at Ladybug and casually inquired, “Is it uncool for adults to ride a carrousel, do you think?”

She tried not to laugh as she smiled indulgently. “Adrien, if you want to ride the carrousel, we can ride the carrousel.”

His eyebrows dipped into a slight frown. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you do something embarrassing. I mean, I know carrousels are for little kids, so—”

“—Adrien,” she cut him off with a fond chuckle, pulling him gently yet firmly by the arm towards the merry-go-round. “It’s fine. There’s a carousel by my house that I ride with the kids I babysit all the time. I’m not embarrassed. It’s fun.”

“Oh,” he breathed, recalling the park next to Tom and Sabine’s bakery. “Okay. If you’re sure. I mean…”

She stopped and turned to look him full in the face, inquiring earnestly, “Adrien, do you want to ride the carrousel?”

He nodded. “I used to really love them when I was a kid. My mom and I would ride the one over by the Eiffel Tower sometimes when we snuck out to have adventures, so…yeah. I’d like to ride it.”

“Okay.” She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, guiding him over to the merry-go-round. “You pick our horses. Whichever one you want.”

He pursed his lips and surveyed the ride with great concentration before deciding, “If it’s okay, I’d like the black one on the outer ring of the bottom level. Would you be okay with the white one next to it?”

“Sure, but don’t you want to go to the upper tier?” she asked, a little surprised. A double decker carrousel was a bit rare, even in Paris with its many carrousels, so she would have thought that Adrien would have taken advantage of the opportunity to ride on the upper deck.

He blushed as he averted his eyes. “I mean, the upper level would be cool, but all of those horses are single file, and I’d rather ride on the lower level and be next to you.”

“I can’t take it,” she confessed, catching him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to. What can’t you take?”

She shook her head, face absolutely magenta. “No. No. I mean…you’re trying to kill me with how sweet and perfect you are,” she attempted to explain through her flustered state. “Like, everything that comes out of your mouth is like some line out of a romance novel, and you are just too cute and too sweet, and I’m going to overheat and die because I like you so much.”

His eyes went wide momentarily in shock at her bluntness, but then a wide smirk slowly spread across his lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping at her unintended forwardness. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, a giddy laugh rising in her throat. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me either,” he hummed, clearly pleased with himself and her and life in general.

“I’ve been trying to say something like that to you for seven years now,” she snorted.

“And I’ve been waiting just as long to hear it,” he assured, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“How are you so smooth?” she groaned through a broad grin of her own.

He shrugged and looped his arm through hers, leading her over to their mounts. “I consume an indecent amount of shoujo manga and romance novels,” he confessed. “It’s rubbed off on me over the years.”

“And here I thought it was natural talent,” she snickered.

“I’m sure there’s a certain amount of that as well,” he hummed happily, giving her a hand up before ascending himself.

 The sun began to dip low towards the horizon, and Ladybug tugged Adrien inconspicuously into an alley so that they could take to the sky on her yoyo without anyone seeing her take off.

“I’ve got one last surprise for you,” she informed, carrying him back towards the heart of the city.

“Is that surprise that you’re kidnapping me and never making me go home ever again?” he inquired hopefully, knowing that the bliss he’d felt with her the past few hours was coming to an unavoidable end.

“I wish,” she snorted. “If I could, I would definitely keep you, but I don’t think even Ladybug could get away with kidnapping Adrien Agreste. Your father would have my neck.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” he sighed, letting his head come to rest on her shoulder. “All right. I guess all we can do is enjoy the time we have left.”

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” she chuckled. “We’re going to one of my favourite spots in all of Paris. Super exclusive with a view that can’t be beat,” she promised.

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing that she was taking him to the top of the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that at first. Ladybug and Chat Noir had often met there to hang out and chat, and many a sunset had been watched over the years. He’d come to think of it as one of “their spots”, so the fact that Ladybug was bringing Adrien there felt like a bit of a betrayal.

But then, on the other hand, he was the one who had betrayed Ladybug first by bringing Marinette there on several occasions. And if Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, she knew what Chat Noir had done.

Ultimately, he decided to be honored that Ladybug thought Adrien worthy of sharing such a special spot.

They touched down at the very top, and Ladybug gently deposited him back onto his own feet.

“Ta-da,” she chuckled, pushing a bang back out of the way as the evening breeze licked it from its place. “This is the best view I know of, so… You’re not too cold, are you?” she inquired, surveying his sweater and undershirt combo and wondering how insulating they would be against the higher winds at that altitude.

“I’m fine,” he rushed to assure. “…Unless you’re suavely trying to get me to cuddle with you. In that case, I’m freezing,” he amended with a flirty wink that made her crack up.

“Actually,” she drawled mischievously, going over to where a second wicker picnic basket had been stowed near the center of the tower. She checked inside and pulled out a thermos, two mugs, a Tom and Sabine’s takeaway box, and two blankets. “I thought it might be nippy, so I planned ahead.”

She spread one of the blankets for them to sit on and set down the thermos, mugs, and pastry box upon it, holding out the other blanket towards him. “Here you go. If you need it, I mean. I know it gets a little brisk up here in the evenings once the sun sets.”

He took the proffered blanket with a warm, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful, Nelle,” and sat, wrapping it around his shoulders to fight off the autumn chill.

She settled in beside him and set to work lifting the lid of the takeaway box to reveal the most perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies Adrien had ever seen before moving to unscrew the cap of the thermos, announcing, “I give you Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate—recipe known only to members of the Dupain-Cheng family.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow, grinning cockily. “Then how did you get the recipe?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, voice pitching high in her panic. “I just ordered it from Marinette along with the cookies.”

“It was awfully nice of Marinette to cater our date,” he hummed appreciatively, leaning in to survey the chocolate chip cookies.

“I do a lot of business with Marinette,” Ladybug fibbed, pouring the hot chocolate from the thermos into the mugs. “My kwami Tikki loves her cookies, so Marinette has kind of ended up being Tikki’s preferred supplier.” She smiled sheepishly as she handed him a mug and took the other for herself.

“I am exceedingly excited to try out this super-secret hot chocolate and these Tikki-approved cookies,” he chuckled, bringing the mug up to his lips.

In truth, he had had Marinette’s cookies and Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate before when he’d spent time with Marinette over the years as Chat Noir, but Maribug didn’t need to know that yet.

He purred happily as the chocolate washed over his tongue, coating his mouth in the rich, luscious taste of the special blend of spices Marinette was so secretive about. “This is amazing,” he praised. “What do you think I’d have to do to get the recipe because this is to die for.”

Ladybug gave a snort, sipping smugly from her own mug. “Marry Marinette.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he snickered. “The hot chocolate recipe would only be the icing on the metaphorical cake, if you’ll excuse the baking pun.”

“Try the cookies,” she urged, turning her head so that he hopefully didn’t notice her rampant blush and the way she couldn’t hold in an effulgent grin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he assured, helping himself and then savoring the way the cookie almost melted on his tongue.

“…By the way,” he thought to ask a minute later, “how did this stuff get up here? There’s no way you could have dropped it off before our date. The hot chocolate wouldn’t still be hot.”

“I actually called in a favor from a friend,” she confessed. “The new Turtle hero, Michelangelo, picked up the basket from Marinette’s house and dropped it off here for me.”

Adrien blinked slowly as his brain tried to process what she was saying. “New…Turtle hero?”

She nodded. “Chat Noir has been pestering me about adding another full-time member, and I finally decided he was right, so we’re bringing Michelangelo on for a probationary trial period.”

Adrien had to keep a tight grip on his poker face to ensure that he didn’t react to this news because it sounded like Ladybug had brought Nino back onto the team like Chat Noir had asked but made him leave the Carapace identity behind so that no one would suspect that the “new” Turtle hero was really the same holder who had had his identity compromised six years prior.

“Oh, cool,” Adrien remarked in as neutral-to-positive a tone as he could manage. “I think that’ll be good. I’m glad that someone else will be out there watching your back.”

“I’m actually bringing him on to watch Chat Noir’s back because he already has mine…maybe a little too much,” she sighed, brow creasing in worry as she thought about her partner.

Adrien set down his mug and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it supportively. “Hey. It’s okay. I know sometimes that it doesn’t feel like it, but…it’s okay, Nelle.”

She smiled weakly, returning the hand squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Here.” He scooted in closer, unfolding the blanket she had given him and draping it over both of their shoulders. “Is this okay?” he inquired, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a tired sigh, letting go and resting her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect. …Thanks.”

“Any time,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “I know you’re tough, but you don’t always have to be around me. It’s okay not to be invincible and perfect. It’s okay to just be a twenty-year-old girl trying to make it all work.”

“Thanks,” she repeated softly, sinking into him.

They watched the sun gradually float towards the horizon for a while in contented silence as they snuggled and enjoyed their cookies and hot chocolate.

“…What are you humming?” Ladybug inquired curiously some time later.

Adrien gave a start and pulled back. “Oh. Sorry. I…I spend a lot of time alone, so I’ve developed the bad habit of talking and singing to myself. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he explained sheepishly, cheeks going as red as her dress in embarrassment.

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry,” she entreated with a kind smile. “I was just asking because it’s pretty and I wanted to know what song it was. Your humming is lovely, and lots of people do that. Chat Noir, for one, is always singing under his breath to himself, so it’s not uncommon or weird at all.”

He tried not to grimace as a part of him wished she would just see Chat Noir inside of Adrien already.

“Oh? Chat Noir does too?” he forced himself to chuckle.

She nodded completely unsuspectingly as she asked again, “What song were you humming?”

“Have you seen the movie Tangled?” he inquired even though he had shown it to Marinette himself when he’d learned that she’d never watched it before.

“Mmhm,” she affirmed as a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at the blanket with a fond smile. “A good friend of mine is a bit of a Disney afficionado. He kind of flipped out and strapped me down and made me watch it when he found out I’d never seen it.”

He grimaced at her description. “Was this a positive experience or torture?” he had to wonder.

“Oh, no! It was fun!” she insisted, wide-eyed, flailing her hands and nearly upsetting the hot chocolate mugs and the cookies. “I had fun.”

“Oh, good,” he laughed in relief. “Otherwise, I’d have to say that maybe you shouldn’t be friends with this guy. He sounds kind of extreme.”

“No,” she hurried to correct his misconception. “Watching the movie was completely voluntary. He…He’s a good friend.” Her voice dipped low with feeling and softened as she added, “He’s very important to me.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, his own cheeks starting to glow. “That’s…good. I’m glad,” he replied genuinely.

There was a beat, and then he cleared his throat. “…Well, the song is I See the Light from Tangled, so…”

“Will you sing it for me?” she asked so earnestly he couldn’t refuse.

“You want me to serenade you, Nelle?” he chuckled, eyebrows dancing jocosely.

She nodded eagerly. “Please? I really love your voice.”

“Is that the only thing you love?” he teasingly fished, holding out hope.

She rolled her eyes, blushing as she gave him a playful shove and commanded, “Sing.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and obediently began the song, tenderly and vulnerably, “All those days watching from the windows…all those years outside looking in…”

He sang in English, so she struggled to understand some parts, but the lyrics didn’t really matter to her. She could feel the emotions in his voice as he sang of being isolated and lost and then suddenly finding where he was meant to be.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into him, losing herself in his song as he confessed, “And at last I see the light…and it’s warm and real and bright…now that I see you.”

He stopped singing then and smiled bashfully, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand as he whispered, “Ladybug?”

“Hm?” she blinked dreamily, still swimming in his piercing peridot eyes.

“I need to tell you something. You’re not going to understand,” he informed sadly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “And you’re not going to think that I’m serious because what I’m about to say is going to sound impossible, but please know that I’m telling the truth.”

“Adrien?” she replied uncertainly, brow beginning to crease in confusion. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he breathed with a tortured smile. “I love you more than anything, and being here with you is a dream come true.”

She gasped, stunned by his heartfelt confession, mind spinning as he began to lean in, his eyes slowly drifting closed.

The clear choice was to let him kiss her. The obvious course of action was to wrap her arms around him and kiss his face off like she’d dreamed of doing for more than half a decade now.

But, in that moment, no matter how romantic the set up, it didn’t feel right.

Alya had a point.

Ladybug was misleading Adrien by not telling him the whole truth, and, however much he liked Marinette, he was bound to be upset when he found out who was behind the mask because she wasn’t being honest with him, and how was that going to provide a foundation upon which to build a relationship?

She pulled back and looked away, hating herself for what she was doing to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, the word sounding hollow even to her own ears. “I just don’t think it’s fair to you, not knowing who you’re kissing.”

He bit his lip, mentally debating how much she’d freak out if he told her he was ninety-nine percent certain that he knew exactly whom he’d been about to kiss.

“Knowing your name isn’t important,” he responded gently instead, resting his hand on top of hers. “What really matters is knowing who you are as a person. I know you, Ladybug, and I know what I want.”

She winced, averting her eyes and turning her head further.

He froze. “…Unless…Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” he rushed to apologize as a realization made him feel sick. “I didn’t even stop to think that you might not want to kiss me. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

“—No!” she interrupted, grabbing his hand and turning back to face him. “No, Adrien, I definitely want to kiss you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

“Ladybug, no,” he tried to protest, but she shook her head and wouldn’t listen.

“No,” she repeated decidedly. “I’m the one who messed up by asking you out as Ladybug in the first place. None of this has been fair to you, and I’m really sorry, Adrien,” she sighed.

A twinge of guilt struck him as he was reminded of the very similar ways in which he wasn’t being completely honest with her. “Ladybug…that’s not…” he tried ineffectually.

She shook her head, her mind made up. “I’m sorry. I think maybe I should take you home now.”

“Please, no,” he pleaded weakly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“Me either,” she agreed melancholically. “But we need to get you home before they notice you’re missing.”

He didn’t bother voicing the fact that, likely, no one had noticed that he’d been gone for hours and no one was likely to discover his absence now.

Instead, he reluctantly submitted, helping her clean up and then obediently slipping his arms around her so that she could carry him back to the lonely Agreste Mansion just a few blocks away.

He tried to concentrate on the way she held him, the warmth of her against the chill of the wind as it whipped against them, every point of contact between their bodies, the scent of her oatmeal body wash and strawberry shampoo melding with the faint, lingering scent of bakery.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Pixey has released her new EP Free To Love in Colour as well as the video for stand out track 'The Mersey Line'. Speaking about the EP, she says: “I wanted a collection of tracks which gave a quick snapshot into me and my brain – where I’m from, where I want to be and what I’m thinking about. I hope people can take something meaningful from it or simply have a dance.” Of the new video for ‘The Mersey Line’, she adds: “‘The Mersey Line’ video was shot in one day at all my favourite haunts around the city. The song itself is about the walkway line along the River Mersey, so we retraced the steps I used to take as a kid and also when I was starting out as a musician. I would write lyrics to my songs along the same path. I wanted something that sums me up wholly as a person, and I’d say the video does just that.” [via Dork]

After turning a short TikTok video shot in her car into an empowering body acceptance anthem with over 70 million streams, Vancouver-based pop singer and songwriter JESSIA shares the music video for her breakthrough anthem 'I’m not Pretty' via Artist Driven Records/Republic Records. Watch the video directed by Benjamin Lussier. In the visual, JESSIA steps through the looking glass to confront her insecurities in a playful and tongue-in-cheek kind of way and falls down a rabbit hole into an imaginary yet cinematic eye-popping peach filled wonderland inspired by Roald Dahl’s ‘James and The Giant Peach’.  The video illuminates the rising artist’s fun and quirky persona, which is as infectious as the song itself. On shooting the video for 'I’m not Pretty' JESSIA says, “Filming the music video was such a surreal experience.  I kept looking around set and asking myself, ‘are all of these people here for me and my song? What? Am I really here right now? What a time. It was such a party on set! SUCH A BLAST!”

Feminism often focuses on the pressures placed on women in society, but men face their own set of pressures as well, and these are very much connected to the oppression women face. Would we have such high rates of domestic abuse if men weren’t taught to express themselves through violence? Would the sexual assault epidemic be what it is if straight men were not taught to view women as conquests? And if men could be free from these constraints, how would the world look different? Stockholm-based pop artist Elin Blom, known by her stage name FELIN, explores questions like these in her latest single 'Dear Boys,' an open letter to men who commit violence and mistreat women. “Dear guys/did your parents treat you right?/or did they teach you not to cry?” she sings against deceptively upbeat drums and bass. The song is intentionally poppy with an edge and roughness to it. Written at an all female writing camp in Stockholm, it utilizes an all-female writing and production team. With the single, Blom wanted to send her listeners the message that “it isn’t manly to be an asshole and not care about how you treat your children or care about how you treat women,” she says. “It isn’t manly to crack sexist jokes; that’s just rude behavior. It’s way more manly and brave to wear a dress no matter what your friends think, or to speak up against abuse or abusive and sexist language.” In the video she looks at the more positive side of the equation, celebrating people who don’t confirm to their gender roles with shots of actors exhibiting a variety of gender expressions and styles. In the beginning, she speaks out loud: “My heroes are those who dare to express who they are, fully, with no holding back. This is about those heroes; this is their moment. It was important for us to find a mix of men in different ages, with different sexualities and backgrounds, to show that it’s okay to wear [whatever] and be whoever you want no matter what you do for work, where you come from, or where you live,” she tells Audiofemme. [via Audiofemme]

For a record about the tedium of teenage life in the suburbs, 'Wasteland' is quite the grandiose introduction. The first single released ahead of Alex McArtor’s Welcome to the Wasteland EP introduces the project as both an opus of both catchy electropop and swelling orchestral compositions, all cowering behind the bold, slightly country-twanged voice of the young vocalist. The single arrives today alongside a darkly bizarre visual co-directed by (with Dwyer O’Brien and Ava McArtor) and co-starring (with O’Brien, Ava, and Campbell Barton) the vocalist, with McArtor name-dropping David Lynch as an influence. “‘Wasteland’ is the opening scene of this sonic film I had in my mind that turned into the Welcome to the Wasteland EP,” she shares. “It sets up the characters that are present throughout the rest of the EP and the environment in which they live, both spiritually and physically. ‘Wasteland’ represents a person, a place, or a feeling of recognizing a dead end. It’s like being stuck inside this geodesic dome and feeling controlled or watched by Big Brother and yet knowing that there is something else going on somewhere else.” [via FLOOD]

Back in January, Quilt frontwoman Anna Fox Rochinski announced her solo debut Cherry. The latest cut from Cherry is called 'Everybody’s Down.' Here’s what Rochinski had to say about it: “'Everybody’s Down' is a song that’s meant to be a little abstract but is generally about feeling run down and bewildered by rampant complicity during catastrophic times. EVERYBODY’S down, including you and me. And yes, also, “down” like bummed, if that speaks to you. And yes, also “down” as in, just casually down to do something, like, down to go grab food with your homies or whatever. It’s a triple entendre. We all feel all of these things every day. It’s a lot. Literally all I can do anymore to stay sane is have a sense of humor and laugh at stuff. I am so much less randomly sentimental than I used to be, but I think it’s because I have learned what really deserves my love and attention. There was a primordial version of this song that I brought in to (album producers) Carlos and Julian, but in the studio, we would visit it at the end of the night after all our serious work was done and throw stuff at the wall to see what would stick. It was like a way to release tension, and we didn’t take it very seriously. We made this minimal, weird, scuzzy instrumental with bass, guitar, synth and programmed drums, and I then took this raw creation home and worked out the structure and the melody and lyrics. In the end, I fell in love with this song, much to my surprise." Musically, 'Everybody’s Down' continues Rochinski’s exploration into a plastic disco-funk like its predecessors. It’s accompanied by a video directed by OTIUM. [via Stereogum]

Molly Lewis is a world-renowned whistler from Australia. In recent years she has been based in Los Angeles, where her Café Molly events have supposedly attracted the likes of Karen O and Mac DeMarco. Now the esteemed indie label Jagjaguwar announced that it has signed Lewis. Her first single for Jagjaguwar, 'Oceanic Feeling,' is out now. It’s a peculiar song with an even more peculiar video. 'Oceanic Feeling' is a wordless ballad that, between its high lonesome gallop and Lewis’ whistled melody, seems like it could be shoehorned into an old Spaghetti Western. But there are also elements of lounge jazz and exotica in the mix, particularly when Leon Michels’ saxophone enters halfway through. In the video, Lewis dresses like a medieval maiden(?) and music-adjacent Hollywood star and Café Molly regular John C. Reilly mimes the sax part while wearing an outfit that recalls the Burger King. I am not sure if any of this could be described as “good,” exactly, but it’s definitely unique! [via Stereogum]

Mannequin Pussy have announced a new EP, Perfect, their first new material since 2019’s excellent Patience. Last week, the Philadelphia-based band announced that founding guitarist Thanasi Paul had left the band, which means that Mannequin Pussy are forging ahead as a three-piece. Last year, they got together to record five new songs with producer Will Yip, who also produced Patience, that were influenced by our past year of collective isolation. 'Control' is the first song they’re sharing from the EP, and it starts off slow and methodic, as bandleader Marisa Dabice insists: “I’m in control/ That’s what I tell myself/ When all the walls around me close in.” Mannequin Pussy’s songs have often been about trying to enforce some control over uncontrollable emotions and exploding when that’s just not possible, and sure enough 'Control' bursts apart in its second half, a dizzying but still pretty escalation of guitars and noise. [via Stereogum]

Bloxx have dropped a brand new single, ‘Everything I’ve Ever Learned’. The track is the first new material from the band since last year’s debut album Lie Out Loud, and is produced by Rich Turvey (Blossoms, Oscar Lang). Speaking about ‘Everything I’ve Ever Learned’, Fee Booth explains: “The last two years for me have been very difficult, with health scares and anxiety hitting the roof. This song was really important in my journey to stop trying to understand everything, and to just accept the cards you’re dealt and make it work for you. It taught me to keep holding on, even when your grip is loose. The depth of what it means to me as a person is so crazy for just a four minute piece of music. It faces the trials of life, and everything that you wish you’d have been taught before having to face it all brutally, in the real world. It’s basically a self help song, it’s for everyone that needs to hear it. “You should learn to hold on, it’s not the end of the world” [via Dork]

Before the pandemic hit, beabadoobee was set to tour with Phoebe Bridgers and Dirty Hit labelmates The 1975. While that trek obviously never got on the road, the UK-based songwriter still managed to link up with 1975’s Matty Healy and George Daniel to collaborate on the follow-up to her excellent debut album, Fake It Flowers. beabadoobee is now previewing that effort, cleverly titled Our Extended Play EP, with the new single 'Last Day on Earth'. Fans have long known of the mutual appreciation between bea and Healy, and the pair have been teasing their collaboration for some time. The new single is rather clearly the result of beabadoobee’s sound meeting The 1975’s. That distinct ’90s indie melody that made Fake It Flowers one of 2020’s best albums carries through here, only now the vocal cadences recall some of Healy’s more measured moments. The result is a dreamier, more lighthearted beabadoobee, further closing the gap between the nostalgic styles that originally inspired her and modern indie music. Unsurprisingly, it remains as infectious as anything either artist involved in its creation has ever done. “With this EP, it’s kind of alluding to the fact that I kind of want to, you know, have a sound that sounds like beabadoobee rather than someone saying it reminds them of something else,” beabadoobee tells Consequence. “I don’t think it’s a whole new era just yet… I still have blonde hair, the same blonde I had for Fake It Flowers, and every EP I have is almost like who I am right now — right this second. That’s everything I write about in this EP. I haven’t really changed my look and I always base eras on my look, like, ‘Oh, what color am I going to dye my hair this time?’ But I’m pretty comfortable right now. I’m pretty chill.” 'Last Day on Earth' comes with a video directed by Arnaud Bresson of Division Paris. The clip finds beabadobee exploring all the things she would have done if she’d known normalcy would be stripped from us a week in advance. [via Consequence of Sound]

Inspired by Nestlé TV adverts, K-Pop music videos and the Oscar-nominated 70s film Five Easy Pieces, Irish pop icon CMAT has shared a new video to accompany her fourth single ‘I Don’t Really Care For You’. Adorned in a fabulous snake-skin blazer and skirt combo, the pop starlet performs an impressive and joyful dance routine opposite a mute bearded beauty who’s Instagram followers are set to double in the next few hours. “The director Eilís approached me some time ago to make a music video, and I really wanted it to be for ‘I Don’t Really Care For You’ because I knew she would be able to capture the high energy mood of the song, and also we are into the same old, niche and ugly design stuff,” CMAT explains. “The dream sequence was inspired by a Nestle ad from the 1980s. The choreographer, Nick, made my dreams come true. I was like, ‘I want to dance like Blackpink, but I have absolutely no technical ability whatsoever.’ I think that much is evident in the video but we pulled it off!” Full of CMAT’s lush, yearning vocals, relatable lyrics and Americana-tinged guitars, ‘I Don’t Really Care For You’ is a song that sees her swallow her pride and admit to sometimes being “the bigger dickhead in a relationship.” The witty set of accompanying visuals show CMAT at her finest, exuding a charisma that lights up the screen as she leans into “the Marian Keyes of it all.” [via Get In Her Ears]

Nordic pop sensation Anna Of The North has shared her new single 'Here's To Another'. The songwriter swoops back into action, crafting a follow up to her Internationally successful 2019 album Dream Girl. A new album will follow later this year, with 'Here's To Another' finding its way online. An all-out Scandi pop banger from one of the best in the game, the single is a finely sculpted slice of electronic melody. 'Here's To Another' twists and contorts, before its final head-long release results in a glorious chorus. [via Clash]

American songwriter Natalie Bergman has shared new song 'Home At Last'. The new single dips into her country and Americana roots, while adding some soothing gospel elements. There's some sumptuous harmonies sitting around her voice, a soft pillow for Natalie Bergman to relax into. The beautiful video is online now, shot in an abandoned chapel, one that brings out new meaning to her lyrics: “Answer my prayer, when a great man falls and the skies collapse, where’s the joy in this world, is he home at last?” Natalie explains... “I have always written songs about ‘home.’ A place that is not on this earth. It brings me a great deal of comfort knowing that place is waiting for me - especially when life can be so alienating and lonely... In the video for ‘Home At Last’ I found a small chapel in Los Angeles and the moment I saw the stained-glass... I felt like it belonged to me. One of the best things about making music is sharing it with the people you love. Playing it with your friends and family. I invited my favorite artists to be a part of this performance and I asked them to think about what heaven might look like to them.” [via Clash]

UK band Crawlers may only have three other singles but they’re definitely not your standard alternative indie underdog. The group of four secured air time on BBC radio and were featured in two Spotify editorial pages. Their new single 'Statues' came out on the nineteenth. It only proves this bands remarkable character. The vocals corrosively discharge acerbic phrases, “You make me so calm, let the statues fall”. Holly Minto invites you to participate in tormented ambiance. The guitar slays the entire track, no thanks to Amy Woodall, jolting the listener out of an ignorant slumber. The guitar makes for a perfect incumbent of the perforating bass put down by Liv Kettle. Now the drumline is a total antithesis, very classic rock/n/roll. Harry Breen takes on the persona of a grounding buddha by producing a converse rhythm. It’s like he is having this eloquent conversation with the rest of the instrumentals. [via Sounds Good]

Nashville-based songwriter Madi Diaz releases her new single/video, 'New Person, Old Place.' Madi recently marked a full restart of her career with the evocative 'Man In Me,' a first offering showing how she’s capable of distilling profound feelings with ease. While 'Man In Me' took Madi through her first steps of a really hard time, 'New Person, Old Place' presents her further down the road, after processing the pain and loss of a breakup. She uses specific diction to describe feelings that are typically hard to verbalize: “I used to stay up on the off chance that you might call me back /  I used to go shopping for pain go through pictures it’s all I had / I’d sift through our memories and live there even when I wasn’t sad /  I used to, I used to, but now I don’t that.” Madi elaborates: “This was a moment I realized I wanted to start to learn how to do it not better, not worse, but just different… and then something shifted. Something in my heart finally knocked loose and I was breathing deeper. It’s hard as hell, breaking patterns and unlearning all the old shit, trying to shut all the doors that I used to open to let all the same hurt happen over and over. I’m at least learning to find new doors. ‘New Person Old Place’ is a mantra. A line that I’m casting into the future so that I have something to guide me forward. It’s something of a reminder that if my heart is the house that I carry with me wherever I go, I can take it somewhere new, or I can do the same old thing I always do but backwards or with a cartwheel, and I can repaint and I can rearrange the furniture. I can clean the mirrors so I see myself true and clear.” The 'New Person, Old Place' video was directed by $ECK and shot in Madi’s pickup truck throughout Nashville. The video follows Madi on a journey to the salvage yard, driving different versions of herself there to face her history.

Following the release of her viral rock cover of Miley Cyrus's 'Midnight Sky', which garnered over 341.5K views, Izzy T is unveiling her explosive new single 'Nuclear.' Featuring UK rap artist Ben Hunter, the almighty alt-rock-pop fireball of energy combines electric, raucous sass in a mix of fearsome beats and muffled, gritty guitar. Screaming enough is enough, the mantra of this song sits on a tidal wave of frustration, narrating the darkside of a relationship and how people can become the furthest thing from who they really are. Izzy shares, “This song has really paved the way for my new sound as an artist. I love big crunchy guitars and stompy beats, and the freedom to go from low and creepy, to high as the clouds with my voice!” With an underlying theme of empowerment in dark times, Izzy provides a voice that we can cling on to, emphasizing that we can do whatever we put our minds to.

[roman-reigns-princess]

Sugar and Spice (Roman Reigns): Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Read it on Wattpad Writing Masterlist

Summary: Aasha and Leati lives are intertwined; it began with a simple contract six years ago that led to love and romance. Although they now live together, they lead busy lives that ten to keep them apart for weeks on end.They finally get a week to themselves in one of their favourite cities, Rome, Italy. Aasha has a couple surprises prepared for Leati, but little does she know, he has a couple of huge surprises for her as well.

Warnings (for the fic over all, not specifically this chapter): cis-female OC, 18+, definitely smutty, daddy kink, schoolgirl kink(?), anal play, choking, age difference,  unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), maybe a lil bit of a breeding kink (dont @ me), possibly semi-public sex, idk if this needs a warning but I use his first name in this fic just cause i really love it?

Aasha (OFC) Face Claim: Alia Bhatt (but like thiccer, and w longer hair)

Word Count: 2813

A/N: I wanna thank @reignwithflair��� and @macfizzle​ for helpin me out w this fic, and giving me some bomb ass ideas. Legit had this fic in my drafts since like June, but thanks to them i finally got it started properly. I originally wanted it to be more focused on their sugar relationship, but i added too much romance so like idk what to even call this fic anymore im sorry yall

Tag List: @macfizzle @reignwithflair @hoodgirl163 @vivalavonvon @imagines–assemble @spidermans-l-o-v-e-r@lavitabella87 @queenreignsempire @ziasaph @vanity1385@itsnethbellins @itsilovelukehemmings@randomfandompenguin @mrsamberlopezgoodanoai @harrystacowwe@hoshithehotspur @flawlessglamazon@inkedirishbbydoll-blog-blog @miss-limited-edition @kakakatey@moneypowergloryfameliquorlove@romanxreignz @firered82 @southernbelle91@reigningxo @littledeadrottinghood @cute-face-chubby-waist @arrowtothecrown@roman-reigns-truth @romansambrose @it-is-reigning-men @fictionalabyss @cool-snowball-22-blog

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

Tucking her phone and room key into her purse, Aasha made her way to the elevator to go down to the bar in the hotel. Leati's flight wouldn't land for at least another half hour, meaning he'd probably get to the hotel in an hour.

She had arrived earlier in the day, and spent most of it preparing a surprise for him, going through the internet, and asking friends who had experience; she figured she'd treat herself a little before he got here.

She'd known for a while now that Leati had a thing for the whole school girl outfit, and Aasha had  been getting more and more curious about trying anal, though she hadn't said anything about it to Leati.

Over the past month or so she had been working her way up from the smallest anal plug, looking up how to do enemas properly, and talking to experienced friends. She'd also been putting together the perfect outfit for him, choosing each article of clothing separately to fit the idea she had in mind.

However, both their schedules had been too busy and they'd barely seen each other for the past 3 weeks. They were finally getting a whole week to themselves, and Leati suggested that they spend it in Rome at the renowned Westin Excelsior.

The Westin Excelsior was a stunning hotel that stood right in the middle of Rome; the architecture reminiscent of Ancient Roman palaces. The building itself was six stories tall, with a dome on top of one corner. Leati had, as usual, booked the biggest, most luxurious suite; the Villa La Cupola took up a good portion of the fifth and sixth floor of the hotel, including the dome.

Aasha's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she first walked into their villa. The living room was huge, decorated with a beautiful fresco; the velvety red curtains hanging from the floor to ceiling windows were drawn, allowing the sun to brighten up the room and warm up the marble floors.

It had its own kitchen, dining room, studio, and even a private gym, but her favourite feature was the Roman bath style Jacuzzi on the sixth floor that led to a terrace over looking the city, with St. Peter's Basilica in the distance.

The bedroom was another work of art; the floors covered with a beige and brown carpet that had red and peach designs curling across, matching the furniture, and heavy curtains.

There was a king sized bed pushed back against the wall, positioned so that the sun lit up the pristine white sheets; it was high enough that she needed to hop up onto it. The four posts around the bed were painted a bright gold that was offset by the gold patterned red drapes hanging off of them.

The rest of the hotel was just as beautiful, with its marble flooring, and artwork. She wandered around a little, admiring the beautiful paintings, and statues that decorated the different hallways before asking one of the staff to point her in the direction of the bar.

The bar was fairly empty, with only a small group of people occupying a corner of the room. Aasha hopped up onto one of the leather clad bar stools and ordered a cherry martini from the bartender. She thanked the bartender and gave him the room number to open a tab.

As she sat at the bar enjoying her drink, her mind began to wander back a few years to when she was in a similar place, waiting to meet Leati for the first time.

Aasha sat at the table of a fancy restaurant, her delicate fingers running up and down the stem of her glass as she waited for him. She had never been this nervous before, especially since she'd never done anything like this before either.

She was barely into her first year of college, and she was switching her major to photography, something her parents were not willing to financially support. Aasha didn't want to take student loans, but fortunately, her friend had told her about the arrangement she had with her sugar daddy, and Aasha had decided to give it a shot.

She had made it explicitly clear that she wasn't willing to do anything sexual for money; coming from a religious, Indian family, she had done barely anything more than kissing. She didn't really care about waiting till marriage to have sex, but she wasn't comfortable with the idea of having her first time be with some random guy who payed her for it.

It came as quite a surprise to her when Leati contacted her. She'd expected him to be less attractive, and much older than he was; granted he was about 10 years older than her, but he was only in his late 20s.

He had given her basic information about himself, and what he would want out of an arrangement, and they had agreed to meet face to face before finalizing anything. He was one of the founders of a major security company that often provided bodyguards to the highest ranking people, and he simply wanted someone to attend work functions with him without the hassle or drama of courting someone.

She was so lost in her thoughts that when a large hand gently gripped her shoulder she jumped, nearly knocking her virgin strawberry daiquiri over in the process; she looked up at the owner to find Leati Anoa'i looking down at her.

"Hi, you must be Aasha, I'm Leati," he said, flashing her a smile.

Her lips parted a little as her eyes drank him in, he was even more beautiful in real life, and certainly more intimidating if he wasn't smiling. He wore a grey suit with a red tie, his hair was slicked back into a bun, and he was clean shaven except for his mustache and goatee.

She blinked a couple times before realizing she was staring at him, she hurriedly stood up and held out her hand, a blush spread across her face as it finally occurred to her that she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

"I-um, yeah-it's good to meet you," she stuttered, biting the inside of her cheek for that. Her face turned redder as he chuckled and gently wrapped his hand around her fingers and pressed a light kiss on her knuckles.

"Pleasure's all mine, babygirl," he replied, letting go of her hand so they could both take a seat. "So, what would you like to eat?"

They spent the rest of the evening talking, and getting to know each other. He was one of three of the major owners of the company, he lived in Tampa about 45 minutes away from her, and he traveled a lot. By the end of the night, Aasha was relaxed, and comfortable enough around him to explain what she wanted, and what she was willing to do.

They didn't have any clashing needs, and he was more than happy to tell her that he'd draw up an agreement as soon as possible for the both of them to sign. He didn't seem to care that she wanted to keep their relationship platonic, but he did say once that if she wanted to go further he wouldn't be opposed to it.

Setting down her empty glass, she left a generous tip for the bartender, and slowly began to make her way back up to the room.

Over time her and Leati's relationship had evolved. They had become good friends, and she stuck with him through two attempted hostile takeovers by his partners even when he tried telling her he didn't want her caught up in that. He started bringing her to family gatherings, stating that he wanted his mother to stop bugging him about settling down. She got to know his family, his twin cousins who became his new partners, and even became close friends with his sister-in-laws, Trinity and Kecia.

As they spent more time together, she started to develop feelings for Leati, but her fear of rejection kept her silent, until one day she got a little too tipsy at an event and ended up confessing to him in the car.

Leati had a firm grip on Aasha's waist as they made their way down the steps of the hotel; he was glowering from the incident moments ago, one hand clenched into a fist at his side. Aasha couldn't help the shiver of fear that ran through her when she looked up at him, the only other time she'd seen him this angry was when Colby tried to wrest the company from Leati.

She'd known that this conference was a bad idea, she tried telling Leati that the McMahons would probably send Lopez as their representative to hopefully throw him off or simply to sew discord, but Leati's stubborn Italian pride wouldn't let him back down from this. To his credit, he managed to keep a lid on his emotions for most of the conference, that is until the farewell dinner.

Leati had left her alone momentarily to go to the restroom, which gave Colby the opportunity to slink up to her with that typical half smirk etched into his face. She gave him a polite smile and took a large sip of her champagne, not wanting to stir up any shit when they were so close to leaving.

"It's been too long, Aasha, you're looking good," she cringed as Colby's eyes took their time looking her over. "We never talk anymore, not even a Happy New Year text?"

"That's your own fault, Lopez," she glared at him, she wanted to get up and leave but there were people standing around the table, blocking her off; the only exit was past the man leering at her. "No one forced you to stab us-him in the back."

"Us? Did you guys finally hook up? Or is it still purely platonic?" he scoffed, not even bothering to acknowledge everything else she'd said.

"N-no, we're just good friends, something you obviously know nothing about," she bit back, taking another gulp of her drink.

"So you're not off the market? Cause I assure you, I can be a very good friend," Colby's smirk widened into a malicious smile as he leaned in, a hand coming to rest on her bare knee. She recoiled with disgust, ready to throw her drink in his face when she felt a  larger hand grab her arm, pulling her up and away from him.

She looked up to see Leati glaring at his former partner; Colby had the good sense to look somewhat scared as he stood up and subtly tried to back away. For each step he took back, the large Samoan took two forward.

"Hey, hey, listen, he's not worth it, let's just leave," Aasha pleaded, tugging at his arm. She tried not to shiver as he looked at her, his infamous volcanic rage simmering in his eyes. "Please."

"Fine," he said, giving Lopez one last scathing look before turning on his heel to march off with his arm around Aasha's waist. She texted the driver to meet them at the front as they made their way through the halls of the hotel.

They came to a stop at the entrance, waiting for the driver to pull up with their limo. Aasha turned to Leati, unbuttoning his jacket to slide her arms around him as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. A startled sound bubbled in his throat, but he hugged her back, kissing the top of her head. They stayed like that until the car drove up.

"I'm sorry," Leati said as he settled in next to her; she looked up at him in surprise. "I know you hate it when I get mad, I just couldn't stand the fact that he put his hands on you, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's okay, you could never scare me, it was actually kinda hot," she mumbled the last part, her face heating up at the confession. She buried her face in his shoulder when his serious expression turned into a smirk. She arched into him as he slid a hand up her spine to grab her hair and pull her head back.

"You think it's hot?" he asked, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he leaned in closer so that his face was inches from hers. "I-"

She cut him off with a kiss, her hands grabbing his shoulders to pull him closer. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto him so that she was straddling his lap. She teasingly bit his lip, eliciting a deep growl from him. She pulled away to look up at him, the both of them panting a little as they stared at each other wide eyed.

"I think I love you," she blurted.

Aasha chuckled at the memory as she walked into the VIlla; back then she had been mortified, but thinking back to it now it seemed rather funny.

Glancing at her phone she saw that she had 40 more minutes till Leati got there. It would be just enough time to shower, and finish the final steps for her surprise. She took a quick 15 minute shower, then hopped out to grab the lube and one of her plugs. She decided to go with one of the smaller ones with a pink diamond on the top because she didn't want to deal with any discomfort.

After working it in, she left the lube in the drawer of a nightstand by the bed, slipped on a shorter baby pink silk robe, and went back to the bathroom to dry off her hair. She finished just in time to hear the door to the Villa opening and closing.

"Aasha?" Her face lit up as she heard Leati's deep voice. She let out a shriek of happiness, rushing out of the bathroom to find him setting his bags down in the bedroom. She practically jumped into his arms, making him laugh as he picked her up with one arm; much to her delight he had grown his beard out, but it also tickled her skin as he buried his face in her neck. "I missed you too, babe."

"God you look so good, it feels like it's been forever, I hate being apart for that long, promise me we won't have to spend more than a week apart again, Lea," she mumbled, giving him a deep kiss to show him just how much she missed him; his chest rumbled against her as he chuckled at the nickname she'd used.

"I dunno if I can promise that, but I'm sure if you gave the Board a good talkin to, they'll see things your way," he joked, walking to the bed to set her down. She pulled back to give him a mock glare before grabbing the front of his shirt to bring him in for another kiss.

His large hands roamed over her thighs, pushing up her robe as he massaged her soft skin; her own hands were busy rediscovering his strong chest, enjoying the warmth that she had desperately missed over the past few weeks, when he pushed her back with a quick shove before dropping to his knees to push her legs apart. She was about to let him when she remembered that she'd prepared surprises for him.

"Wait! No, I, uh," she said, hurriedly sitting up and clamping her legs shut. Leati gave her the cutest pout as he stood up. "I'm sorry, its just I got you a couple surprises but I haven't finished putting them together. Why don't you go take a shower, I'll be done by then."

"I GUESS I can wait a little while longer," he sighed dramatically, giving her a kiss and a grin. "You better be done by the time I'm out, cause I'll fuck you right where you stand, got it?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said with a cheeky smirk as she pushed him towards the bathroom. He gave her one last kiss, and landed a smack on her ass before walking into the shower.

Aasha dug through her bag, pulling on the outfit she had put together; a white button up shirt tucked into a flow-y black skirt that barely covered her ass, white thigh high socks held up by black thigh garters, and a loosely tied black tie. She could hear her boyfriend getting out of the shower and turning on the hair dryer which gave her just enough time to brush her own hair out and pull it up into two ponytails.

She just finished tucking her brush away, and unbuttoning the top 3 buttons of her shirt when the bathroom door opened and out stepped Leati in nothing but a towel.

[neisuinene]

In Your Dreams Tonight - Chapter 6 –Prelude

Prologue 1  Prologue 2 Prologue 3

  Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Do you still remember…that dream?

Do you still remember…me?

The background shows cherry blossoms, when the wind breeze brushes by, it dances with it, with the bright blue sky that is almost dome-like.

The whole view was beautiful and serene, even if it is just an opening screen of the game, the character could feel as if they were actually there. The light scent of the blossoms, the amazing view that is no less than any well-known cherry blossoms viewing sights in Japan. It is all peaceful and quiet, and you, were only one there. Until, these words suddenly appear on the screen, along with the speech that came with it.

?!! Neisui was sitting at her laptop, surprised when the sudden words came out of nowhere, even more so when she heard own voice speaking those words. The helmet has recorded their voice at point of registration, but if they are good enough just to take the voice sample of them and put them into speech inside the game, that is another thing.

What is this game? Why so sad already? She did read the description at opening of the game, just a page before this one, stating that because this game is unique and story would be based on how the players and npcs play it, there would be no opening video of what had happened, that would leave for the players to find out. Instead, it gave a few of samurai quotes that appeared in Samurai Love Ballad game, and some Neisui had no recollection of seeing before. But that did not matter, the game will figure it out somehow.

Until she saw these two quotes, who is that addressed to? Was that really her voice she heard? Yet it sounds so far away and almost out of the world. Was that the player’s voice or she was just imagining that? What happened if the player were a guy, what would he have heard?

But there was no chance for her to think more, for the next lines have already appeared on the screen.

Killing is what I do best. I kill to protect, yet I have lost them both.

Whose line is this? The middle part, she knows Oda Nobunaga has said similar thing, but was that really his line, who are them?

I do not wish us to be enemies or apart, but as a samurai, I must fulfill my duty. Please forget me, and live a peaceful life. If one day I must kill you…

Then the cherry blossoms fade, instead a video showing vast mountains and sea, the castle to prosperous town appears, on the sky it shows another line.

When she and rest of nation stands before you, what will you choose?

Please let us enter this world together, use your hands, use your whole to protect whatever and whoever you wish to protect.

Are you ready to protect your future?

The game has not even yet started, though Neisui is already feeling lots of pressure and mixed emotions of this game. What she just saw, is it the same for every player, or only for those who are wearing special helmets? The GM said they going to a test on her and survey her data. Her move will be examined very closely by them. But what will have they in store for her? Where will she start? But wait, she has not even logged in yet.

Nervously, she entered her account information and logged in, the next screen looks pretty normal, explaining guidelines for every player and even more so if you happened to be a lord or a special character in the game.

Dear Neisui Nene Seta,

By using this helmet you have agreed to our gaming terms of use and conditions. In this game, you will be a daughter of a samurai, we are looking for what will you do with your status and title. Since you are doing this character as a test, we here congratulates you to have a second character of your own choice. This character will have no background, you will be free to make her into whoever you wish her to be. However, just to get you started, please think very carefully of who you gonna be. We will be entering your test character into a hidden story line, what happens there though may not affect your other character directly, but, do think and act carefully.

Please click “NEXT” to enter storyline.

So unlike other players who are only to have one character per helmet and since each helmet is registered, each person could only have one helmet as well. So by having a second character, is impossible. Unless, that person may be the NPC or GM, right? But if the game already told her this character she is forced to play first now is a daughter of the samurai, then what does “think very carefully who you gonna be” means? Isn’t that already decided?

Clicked “NEXT.”

A video starts with images middle-aged samurai being killed, with his hoarse almost shouting voice shouted “AHH!!!” Then the image changed to a woman cried in despair, and a grave of someone stood lonely in the field. Then an image of a young child appeared, crying. The child was so young that he was just a toddler even, with the sadness and fear and anger in his eyes. He had just witnessed his father’s death.

Then an old woman appeared with a tree branch as walking stick. She sighed. “It is fate, what a poor child.”

What was that she just saw? Who was that man, that child, and that old woman? Being killed is nothing new at that era, but did that child really witness his father’s death? How? She could only see someone killed that man, but couldn’t see who did it. If it were happened on the battle field, why did that young child have a chance to witness the scene? Or if he hasn’t, where did that fear in the eyes came from?

The video has ended. Neisui now finds herself, her character wearing a simple white kimono, no, perhaps the word very worn white cloth would be more appropriate to describe her now. Her character is lying in the snow, unconscious. Around her were few bodies of soldiers. The wind is blowing hard in the background, everything else was quiet. Where is she? Is she on the battle field? The woman on the ground, that is…her, right? Then, she heard voices speaking and footsteps, and it gradually became louder.

“General, the war has ended now. We have taken the lady and her young son into the castle, will you see them later?” a man’s voice was speaking.

“Of course,” to Neisui’s surprise, it was a woman who answered. “My dear brother has just lost his life in war and left behind his wife and his young son, there is no one else who can take care of them now. How is she holding up?”

“Barely I suppose. She looks calm now but the tears have yet to dry from her eyes, and young master…he…” the man’s voice stopped, then a pair of feet appeared in Neisui’s view beside her unconscious body. It’s them, the ones that were talking. Neisui’s heartbeat grew faster, what are they gonna do, this kind of anticipation kills her. She for now could only watch as the scene plays in front of her. Her character is still unconscious, yet the tense is near.

“Hmph,” the woman gave a laugh, “looks like we have a company here. What is a youngling doing here? Surely she is not one of them?”

“I don’t suppose so, she looks much to young to be fighting. I mean, by her height, I would say she is no more than a ten-year-old.”

What? Ten-year-old? Her character is that young??? When the GM says they want to see what a daughter of a samurai, perhaps of a dead samurai would do, she never guessed her character they set for her would be this young. Her character’s face is not facing her, and an arm half-blocking, so she couldn’t see nor guess how she would be.

One of them bent down, it was a woman in red armor. She put a finger to Neisui’s character’s nose, then onto her wrist. “She is weak, but still alive. We will take her with us.” Just as Neisui was thinking how kind hearted the woman was, her voice came again, only this time colder, “then we will question her. Friend or foe.”

“But milady, she is only a child!” the other soldier protested.                                                                                                                                                                                

“She may be a child, but don’t you think her appearing on battlefield is just too strange? Or who would be stupid enough to bring their daughter onto battlefield, only to be killed? It is a miracle enough hat she is not dead, but until we can be sure of her identity, or at least where she is coming from, we cannot be at ease.”

“But…”

“I may be a woman, and do not think I would feel sorry if this child has last her parents, just like him.  But what if she is sent by the enemy, to gather our information and leak them out? I am the head of clan, I must protect my people.” Woman stood up, “you take her to the guest room, have a maid and a nurse with her, check if any wounds. Once she is awake, inform me.” The woman walked away, Neisui saw her character is being picked up by the man beside her.

The other man gave a quiet sigh, “what a poor child. Who knows what is in store for you? Now I’m not sure if it were better if you dead or alive. Sometimes death is just so much easier, or sometimes you would wish you were dead.” He picked her up and walked to his horse and rode under the grey sky. The wind is still blowing, and the other only sound left, was the horse that carries them to their destination, wherever that is.

Neisui watched the scene plays in front of her. She could do nothing but watch, and to ponder what will happen next. “What a start,” she sighed.                                                                    

@asktoramatsu @rose-of-yonezawa @nitroforcepower @akanojikan @thesassyscribbler @my-funandgames @shirokazekikagami

[mapleleafstrash]

Shades – Auston Matthews

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first ever imagine I’ve posted and I hope you like it! I need some ideas for more writing so feel free to submit me with any ideas or requests you might have!

Y/B/N –> your brothers name (if you don’t have a brother just improvise)

Characters: Auston Matthews

Words: 1,869

Warnings: n/a

“Can you at least try to look like you’re having a good time? You’re dampening the mood Y/N.”

Looking towards your older brother, you sighed. Y/B/N thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the end of your university exams with a trip out to see him in Toronto. Unfortunately, your parents agreed. While your hometown was only just an hour away from the big city, your brother had made the move out to Toronto due to his work.

Normally you would’ve been absolutely stoked over the idea of spending the entire weekend in Ontario’s biggest city, but this time that wasn’t the case. Y/B/N had wanted to participate in any and all possible touristy activities, despite the fact that he not only lived here, but it wasn’t like this was your first time in Toronto either.

You hadn’t minded going to Ripley’s Aquarium, as you still hadn’t visited since it had opened a few summers from before. But the whole King Street, Eaton Centre, and Dundas Square exhibition had been a bit much. What was even worse though, was the fact that Y/B/N had failed to mention that he had gotten tickets for the both of you to attend the Blue Jays game.

You hated baseball.

The cherry on top however, was where your seats were.

“How much were these?” you questioned your brother, once you’d finally reached your seats after having to walk all the way down to the bottom of the stadium.

Y/B/N shrugged it off, “don’t worry about it. Just think of it as a company tax write off,”

You rolled your eyes, of course it was.

Crossing your arms against your chest, you shimmied down into your seat, trying to get comfortable. Y/B/N held out some peanut M&M’s towards you, but you promptly declined.

“How cool is this?” your brother exclaimed, as he pulled out his phone to take some photos of the field.

Turning away from him, you pursed your lips as you waited for the game to start. ‘Why couldn’t we have just gone up the CN Tower, and then maybe have gone out to a bar or something?’ you thought. That idea seemed much more tolerable, enjoyable even. Instead here you were, sitting in the first row behind the batting plate, while Y/B/N munched obnoxiously on his candy and kept taking photos of everything and anything to share onto social media.

“And here she is, miss little ungrateful,” your brother’s voice sounded, causing you to turn back towards him and immediately swat at his phone that he had decided to shove in your face.

“Knock it off Y/B/N,” you complained, pushing him away from you, causing him to chuckle. “You better not post that either,” you added, and he laughed, “too little too late,”

You groaned, shaking your head. When could this day be over?

“Um, excuse me?”

Y/B/N and you both turned to your right to see a group of three guys, or well two guys and an older gentleman, standing in the aisle. Motioning down to the seat next to you, the one guy nodded towards your bag. You reached over and grabbed your purse that you had placed there only minutes before.

“Sorry,” you apologized and he smiled, “no worries,”

Once everyone had taken their seats, you slid over the left of your seat, partially touching Y/B/N so you weren’t in the space of the stranger sitting next to you. The guy looked to be around your age, maybe even younger, and was sporting a grey hoodie and a blue Blue Jays cap. You couldn’t deny that he was somewhat cute, but it was his friend in the middle who had caught your attention.

Wearing a jean jacket, and a white Blue Jays cap, the guy was also wearing sunglasses. You thought that was strange, considering it had been overcast all day and because the dome where the game was being played was also closed. Was he high or something?

Deciding to ignore it, your attention was then focused onto the game starting in front of you. About three innings went by until you started getting suspicious. You had noticed that many of the spectators around you had been speaking in hush whispers and that as each inning went by, Shades, as you had nick-named him, had been sinking further and further into his seat.

“You okay Aus?” the guys seated next to you asked him.

Shades nodded, “just trying to relax,”

Aus?

What the hell kind of name was that? You liked Shades better.

“I think I’m going to head to the washroom,” Shades then told his friend.

At hearing this, the older man, who I had just noticed looked extremely muscular, tapped Shades on the shoulder, “Do you need me to come with you?”

“Nah, it’s fine Tom. I should be good. Just enjoy the baseball,” Shades said, patting the man on his shoulder as he stood up and made his way back up the stairs

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was that man, or Tom rather, an undercover security guard?

Not that you were a renowned super-sleuth, but you were definitely curious and wanted to get to the bottom of this. Was this Shades person an important figure, a celebrity maybe? He must’ve been if he needed his own personal security.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes found your brothers concerned ones, “are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded, “yeah, why?”

“You just seemed to space out there,” Y/B/N explained.

You sent him a small apologetic smile, “sorry,”

“Not a big fan?”

You turned your head towards Shades’ friend, who had spoken directly to you.

You simply shrugged, “I feel like there are more entertaining sports to spend my time watching,” you explained, causing the boy next to you to chuckle.

“I couldn’t agree more, but hey, my friend wanted to come and I couldn’t say no to free tickets,” he told you.

“That’s cool,” you responded, “especially with seats this close,”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “a few of the perks Auston gets now,”

I cocked my head and the guy suddenly firmed his lips together and looked very nervous.

“Must be nice,” you said, before whipping your head back towards the field as the crowd suddenly erupted, along with Y/B/N, due to someone from the Blue Jays hitting a home run.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” you told your brother once the stadium calmed down.

Y/B/N sent you a thumbs-up, never taking his eyes off the game causing you to roll your eyes. Sending the guy next to you a smile as you walked by, you began your trek up the stairs. Once you reached the summit, you walked over to the closest food vendor, and kindly asked for a bottle of iced tea.

“Oh my god, did you hear Auston is here? Like in the building?” You heard a teenage girl say as she walked by you with her friend.

You cocked an eyebrow, there was that name again. You watched the pair walk past you, and shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Do you think we could find him?” Her friend asked, sounding very excited.

The first girl snorted, “He’s all over social media. He’s wearing these stupid sunglasses and a white hat, like you can’t miss him,”

“I can’t believe we’re going to meet Auston Matthews!” her friend exclaimed.

Then it hit you. You almost wanted to slap yourself silly. Shades was Auston Matthews! How the hell had you missed that? How the hell had Y/B/N missed that? He was a crazy Leafs fan, which was the only reason you actually knew who Auston Matthews was.

Once you turned back to walk back down towards your aisle’s section, a massive group of not only girls, but boys included stood, effectively blocking the staircase.

“He’s here in section 114, and this is the only way for him to get down to his seat,” you heard a voice in the group mention and you sighed.

This was ridiculous. You were sitting one seat over from him and he just seemed like a normal guy. No wonder he had looked so uncomfortable in his seat. You would be too.

Just as you were about to barge through the crowd, you noticed a familiar figure with an unforgettable pair of shades walk around the corner. Not wanting him to fall into the waiting trap, you fast-walked, near jogged towards Auston. You noticed his eyebrows rise in confusion as you barrelled towards him, “hey, you’re the girl from my row,” he spoke.

You nodded and before he could open his mouth to say anything else, you placed your own finger against your lips, motioning to him to stay silent. You grabbed onto his jean jacket sleeve, and pulled him around the back of an empty food vendor.

Auston looked towards you questionably as you poked your head around the corner, to make sure no one had spotted you.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

You then pointed back to the large group of people perched at the top of your section, “all of those people are waiting for you,” you explained.

His face paled and his eyes fell, “oh,”

“I just thought I’d let you know before you walked into that. You seemed to be at least trying to be incognito earlier so I figured it would be best to warn you,” you said.

“Ah, so you knew who I was,” Auston spoke and you shook your head.

“Honestly no, but I thought you were definitely acting suspicious. The only reason why I found out who you were was because I overheard a couple girls talking about you while I was grabbing a drink,” you admitted. “To be honest, I only know you’re a hockey player because my brother loves the Leafs and has mentioned you a few times. And if it makes you feel better, he didn’t seem to notice you and he’s considered a die-hard fan,” you continued, chuckling a bit.

Auston seemed to smile a bit at that, “well thanks for the warning then,”

Your lips curved upwards, “it was no biggie, I mean it’s not like I can get back to my seat now anyways,” you explained, referring to the growing mob just nearby.

Auston pursed his lips, “sorry about that,”

You shrugged, “I’m not much of a baseball fan anyways,”

“But still,” Auston trailed off, “what about your brother?”

You waved it off, “he probably won’t realize I haven’t come back until the games over in all honesty,”

Auston smirked, “well considering we’re both stuck, want to hide out with me until we can get out of here? Maybe head over to the VIP bar across the way?” he asked, pointing towards a door nearby that connected to the exclusive restaurant.

“You going to buy me a drink Shades?” You asked him playfully, raising your eyebrow.

“Shades?” he questioned and you laughed, pointing up towards your temple and Auston followed suit, chuckling as he pulled his sunglasses off.

He grinned, “I’ll buy you whatever you want, uh,”

“Y/N” you said, reaching your hand out to shake his. He shook back.

Suddenly you weren’t so annoyed Y/B/N had brought you to a baseball game after all.

[thecosmiccuttlefish]

March 14th 2017

0621: I had trouble getting to sleep last night. A quirky nurse came in to draw blood. She’s was blonde m, wore a blue camo shirt and spoke in a sing songy voice. She told me “Here, just put the covers over your eyes.” In order to block out the light, and asked if I danced. “No? It must be someone else.” But she was really good at drawing blood. I barley felt it. So I’ll give her that.

0636: 50 something nurse came in.   50 something nurse asked: “Did the lab come?”, referring to blood work, and in my case the quirky nurse. She took my heart rate and blood pressure lying then standing (after standing for two minutes). After I asked to go to the bathroom, and disconnect my heart monitor (three small cords red, white, and black) she told me to change into the hospital gown because she was going to weigh me. That’s new. After I was weighed it was back into my pyjamas and off to bed after a temperature check.

“Are you feeling worse this morning?” 50 something nurse asks me with a thermometer in my mouth. I smile and shake my head. “I’m just like a dentist.” She said. “Asking questions with a mouth open.” Does she mean closed?

She also told me that my heart rate drastically improved. Up to 38bmp as my low. I should be out of the hospital soon. But, I’m trying not to think about that. Numbers and the rest. I’m just focusing on what I need right now. More sleep.

1113: So, mum came around 9am. I went to breakfast with her in the very classy “Teen Lounge” down the all. Are they waning me off of food? I had oatmeal, some gargantuan genetically modified banana, and under the green dome of destiny was toast. That’s all. I had peanut butter, let the marmalade rot, sped up it’s abandonment by the power of  eating disorder. My mum was sure my heart rate was 35bpm at night and announced it when she woke me from my slumber. “Your heart rate is still low. 35.” Turns out she just saw that on a monitor somewhere. Nurse L confirmed that it was 38. Why you always gotta go react like that mum?

“Was she weighed?” Said mum.

“Yes…” Said nurse L.

“I’d rather not know.“ I interjected. “Because, with eating disorders..”

~I feel that air of electricity when I begin to talk about eating disorders like some secret cult that I am privy to and understand and others want to learn about. I sense attention and interest. Performers instinct?~

“Because with eating disorders you get competitive. Oh my heart rate was that, I need to get it back there. Oh, that’s my weight. I can beat that. So, I’d rather not focus on numbers and focus instead on what I need to do to recover” I looked down, nodded my head.

They understood. Mum would find out my weight later.

Mum also said, to the nurse that she felt my calorie intake could be bumped a bit.

“I don’t know how much she’s eating now.” Mum said in her pleasant ethereal voice. My dad has this weird voice he uses when he talks to people with an accent. My sister and I point out to each other by saying “I smell popcorn. Do you smell popcorn?” Be it with a Mexican butler, a Chinese grandpa, He enunciates his words and laughs a little too much. “Oh! Ho-ho! Okay! Haha!” My mum has a great way of getting whatever she wants when it comes to hotels and services. She sometimes speaks very pleasantly, in a slightly higher voice than normal. With pleasant inclinations of inquiry where she might cock her head to the side. “I don’t know how much she’s eating now.”

“Um. She’s on a 1700 calorie diet.” Said the nurse.

So much for numbers.

Then I had a shower. My cold is still pretty nasty, so I tried to steam the sick away.

Then mum left, I maximized walking time by going back and forth to the sink.

First by getting my tooth brush and tooth paste, walking to the sink and brushing,

Then walking back getting my retainers and the retainer case, walking to the sink brushing them and putting them away.

Then walking back to tuck my retainers away and get my hair brush, walking to the sink and brushing my tangled hair. The hospital baby shampoo isn’t stellar.

A nurse with pink pants came in at some point and told me to buzz her when I wanted the leads on.

THEN FINALLY I walked back, put my brush away, and went to the washroom, then sat on my bed.

Finally, a new girl named came in. Her name was Stephanie and she painted, and now I’ve just been typing.

1137: Grammy came in, I’m going to hang out with her now.

1231: So Grammy and I went to the game room. I called a nurse to check if it was okay that I was un-tethered. “Oh you don’t need to do that” Said Gammy. “The nurses are busy.” But I was insane and did it anyways. Nurse L said it was alright. She got me some lovely water with ice and Grammy and I played checkers. I beat her once, then she crushed me. I ate all my foods.

Here’s the menu, transcribed by me:

Lunch

TUE 03/14/17

1X 2% Milk

1X Seasonal Fresh Fruit

1X Egg Salad SW

1X Creamy Coleslaw

1X Minestrone Soup

Notes about the above.

*The milk actually takes up about a 1/3rd of a small glass and it comes with a plastic lid.

*I think I’m going to start a world wide petition to stop fruit from being unfairly labeled “Seasonal” and/or “Fresh” The fruit I received had obviously been canned for some mysterious amount of time. It was all diced and cubed and had some bright pink marachino cherry bits, so really, it was about as fresh as a loaf of bread salvaged from the nuclear apocalypse sponsored by corn syrup. Also, what season? It’s spring here. Barley. The only fruit that’s growing in this climate is Apple’s stocks. Let’s do everyone a solid and stop lying to ourselves. Call it “Fruit” or put a series of question marks “???” Anything is better than deceitful adjectives.

We talked a bit about her family. She is great at telling stories from years passed, she loves it. “My sister and I often ask ourselves, why is it that we don’t smoke? After all these years, even though our parents did! Well, we always come up with the same answer.” “The dirty ash trays-” “That’s right! The dirty ash trays.” I’ve heard that story like three times but she always has fun telling it.

We talked about how sick I was. She showed me some pictures of me on her phone. She has such a great archive,How I smelt weird when I first came back, Ketonic? Was the word?

She walked me back to the room, I put my tray down, I went to the bathroom, she waited for me, Then she gave me her tic-tacs for her sinuses and left. I love her.

1246: Nurse L walked in. She is stealthy. You can’t hear her coming. It’s like she’s five and travels along her parents wood floors using fluffy socks. One more reason not to workout. I wasn’t going to anyways, GEEZ!

1251: RECOVERY THOUGHT: I never asked myself when I had enough exercise. I thought that was weakness. To truly enjoy yourself you must listen to your body, and what you want. Never be ashamed of that. Ladeeda.

1325: Okay, so Dr. Patooti came in and we talked for a bit. She suggested I talk to Psychologist #2. For continuity. My weight it actually down a bit. She asked if I felt my calorie intake should be upped. I could feel my eyes practically widen in their sockets. “My mum is bringing extra snacks today.” No need for that increase thank you. Then she asked how my Chinese was going. We talked for a while about how she has trouble pronouncing her V’s and W’s. She pulled back the tacky blinds and pointed to the window. “I used to call the a Vindow!” Das’ cool.

Still no exercise. Nurse L came and hooked me up to the heart monitor again. 

In other news, I haven’t worn a bra in like three days because who am I trying to impress? Very floopy and nice. Yes.

1518: Or, 3:18pm. Anyways. I got accepted to this university program I was looking forward to. This is good and exciting and yes. It’s a very small university. Guarantee you’ve never heard of it unless you live close to where I am. It’s a two year program. It seems so long to commit, but I suppose it really isn’t when you think about… I don’t know. All of junior, middle and high school. I can do this. No worries, and time is just going to speed up right?

Anyways, I saw this exciting announcement in my email after sitting down. I was standing you see because I allowed myself 15 minutes of stretching. It was only 33% disordered. The disordered bits of it are listed below:

It was timed, which is only a little bit of a problem. I need to know how long I’m stretching somehow. The disordered part is the feeling that I can’t stop until it’s done.

I added 48 seconds to the timer. Because I need to buffer any time I might be messing around and not stretching.

Every time I had to stop, like when the eating disorder clinic gave me a call (ironically) I added a minute to my time to make up for the time, and the time I’ll need to get back into the flow.

Gentle stretching turned into isometric yoga poses.

But there, then basically I sat down to check for the email the ED person said she sent me. I didn’t see that email, but I did see the acceptance letter and that was very exciting indeed. So that’s something to talk about with mum when she comes for dinner in about an hour or so.

The day just flys by!

1545: Okay, so I’m just listening to some chill millennial music, and  I’m feelin very work out ish. But I can’t think about the urge too much. It fuels it. I’ll make a plan. So, I’ll get up, go to the washroom. Study Chinese, then stretch for another 15min. That seems alright. Maybe a guided you tube stretch? It’s a pretty good alternative. Okay, go.

1750: So mum came by, and UG. UG! I ate a vegan brownie, because mum wanted me to. And two of those little greek rice wrap things and now I want to exercise, so this is where Netflix comes in. I feel on the verge of crying. Not really, but it’s in there somewhere.

She came in, I was coming out of the bathroom around 1614 after doing a hundred high knees and 25 squat jacks and she said “What were you doing in there?”

I told her.

“Naughtyyyy”

Then she revealed some presents she brought me. One of those 99 things to do when you have time that have artsy fill-it-in-yourself pages. She was looking at me very lovingly. We talked for a bit. I found out my neighbor, Emily is a model. She eats everything too!

I can get past this anxiety. Stop trying to rationalize it.

We played connect four. I won one. We tied, I think she won one. Then checkers. I was doing pretty well. Then not so well. She made a lip sound. “Shut up!!” I cried. “Margoo. Don’t get upset about a little game of checkers.” I double jumped her twice, but left myself venerable. She double jumped me.

“One little lapse my dear.” Said she.

She plugged me in, which is the modern day version of tucking me in, and then left.

I love her.

1817: I started doing squats, but the good news is Stephanie is right across from me. and that looks weird so I stopped. I’m kind of depressed. I think I want to curl up.

I’m going to watch a terrible sitcom.

1946: So, I did good things. I talked with my mum about how I was feeling, I realized that my thoughts are just thoughts not threats and I managed to feed myself. My mum watched through video chat. To be honest, I’m sort of jealous of Stephanie across from me. She hasn’t been on a computer once. She’s just painting… I want to be like her. That’s the life. Anyways… what else. I’ll go off my computer till 9pm. Or 2100 in this weird 24 hour journal I’ve got going here. Keeping tabs on my dad has made me realize how many small details are forgotten if you let it slip your mind. So… what’s the plan… Put the hummus away. Stretch for another 15min. Keep it light. Then work on Chinese. Finish the documentary. It’s good. It opens my eyes. It makes me want to help the world. Makes me think the university program I’m going into is for me. So ya, I’ll put down a deposit. Maybe I’ll fill out the form first. Then hummus, then stretching, then Chinese, then documentary, then writing, then bedtime. Good plan!

It’s funny. I’m putting away the hummus and pita… but I really want to eat it all too. I really want to stuff myself. But no no. Eat intuitively. C ya pals. Can you tell I’m getting more tired? My writing is getting more sloppy.

2152: What started as stretches turned to resetting the timer and doing lots of spider man’s and things. Awful terrible. My parents are becoming more and more convinced they need to hire someone. HIRE SOMEONE! At home. It’s awful! Humiliating. Terrible. Incredibly tumultous. I hate it. Stop. Please god stop. Please god stop please god please please please please please please please please please please. I was Facetiming with my mum, after sending her the two texts in regards to not exercising, or acting on my latest obsession to make myself sweat!:

#1“Failing.”

#2 “Faillling”

And she said psychologist #1 sent an email and cc’d me in it. Lies. I asked her to forward it to me. I don’t think I was meant to read it. It was basically talking about getting help. Here are some prime excerpts: 

Dad:

.…She clearly needs close supervision as someone needs to sit with her for all meals and supervise her or else she will be exercising….my wife and I need a break of a break with this…I would like to hire someone to be with her in the house when we go to work.  I don’t see Margo going back to work herself anytime soon….

Psychologist #1

….I realize that she has been trying very hard to defeat the eating disorder and associated urges but right now she is not anywhere near having enough self-control and has put herself in danger hence the hospitalization to buy time….The few days in hospital will not have helped at all if she goes back to exercising (which I understand she was doing on the ward yesterday). So, if she is going home in the next few days, I expect her to complain but accept that she is going to have someone with her (at considerable expense to the family, which she needs to appreciate, and which I think she does appreciate)…until the day when she can manage the urges on her own. If she chooses to fight this logic, I would bring her back to the notion that someone with an addiction is not left alone in a room with a line of coke or a bottle of gin and someone with suicidal urges is not left alone with a gun….

ARGGGGG NO! AWFUL! TERRIBLE! I guess I should just freakin’ accept it. Or start lying about my exercise so they stop FUH-REAKIN’ out!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.A

I’d exercise right now but I’m scared that they’ll pick it up on my heart monitor but I am so angry I don’t care, and am going to do an angry pyramid anyways. No! Maybe I should write an ukelele song instead? Channel it into more constructive ways?

2218: Okay, I’ve decided to not think about it till the morning. Sort of put mental blinders on the whole thing. I know I’ll feel better in the morning.

2315: Skyler, a lovely nurse who I'm growing more fond of and talked to me when I was super anxious came and took my vitals. It's my favourite part of the night because I find the stethoscope relaxing. Gentle touching is nice, not to sound creepy. Then, because I'm still angry and feel like hating myself, watched vines on YouTube till I heard poor Stephanie rolling around. Someone who paints and reads can't be offended. She's untaintable. I hope I feel calmer in the morning. I don't want to go back to this eating disorder. This fear filled hell pit. It's awful. That was my March 14th 2017 Good talking to you.

[casino-lights]

3 for Cherry and Deacon

“It’s always been you.”

A month after Deacon left, Cherry stops calling herself the Red Queen. What’s a queen without a king? she asks, and Desdemona says, Stronger. But she doesn’t feel any stronger—not without her partner in more than just crime.

Six months after Deacon left, Cherry hugs Tinker Tom and apologizes over and over again while he scolds her about how much danger she’ll be in if she retires. When, Tommy, not if, she says. When the door closes behind her, he looks to Desdemona with tears in his eyes, and she stares at the floor. They’re both thinking it, though neither one says it: What do we do now?

A year after Deacon left, Cherry slips her red ribbon out of her hair and wraps it around her palm. She stares at it for a time, remembering when she found it, tied in a knot around the hilt of a blade stamped with a communist star.

Red Queen. Cherry’s codename wasn’t in reference to her love of the color. She preferred blue, in truth, but red was symbolic. Passion, power, wrath—all represented by red. And more: China and cherries and blood. Her blood. Her husband’s. Her son’s. The blood that flowed through each and every synth.

And that little boy who called her mom and begged her not to leave him. The little boy who said “I love you” as the glass dome of a memory lounger slid over his tiny body. He opened his eyes an hour later with no idea who she was. Better that way, Cherry said. Better he know that his new parents loved him instead of thinking she didn’t.

Deacon was the one who suggested it, after two days straight of trying to coax Cherry from her room and stop crying. A child she never made, a child she didn’t love, “given” to her by a grown man who spat at her on his deathbed. Why would he think they could ever be a normal family? Why would she think she deserved one, after killing him in a rage when he cursed her and her cause?

So Cherry trusted Deacon when he introduced her to that couple. Tourists, he said, ones who were always kind and warm and loving. They wanted children, but never had any. They’d be perfect, he said, taking the child’s hand in one of his and Cherry’s in the other. She kept trusting him, even as she cried tears she didn’t think she’d have when the boy sat in the memory lounger. And she trusted him until he came home with eyes red and swollen, never meeting hers, mumbling out the news that Mercer safehouse was attacked.

The University Point Deathclaws were back with a vengeance, and they were after the Railroad. None of the new members even knew who Deacon was, but they knew Cherry. Oh, did they know her. Kill the Red Queen was painted in blood on a wall in Mercer safehouse next to three dead bodies—two tourists and a child.

Deacon left the same day. He left his clothes, his disguises, his books, and walked away from their lighthouse. Away from the Railroad.

Away from Cherry.

So as she sits on the docks, a year to the day, watching the sun sink below the waves, she holds out her hand and lets her red ribbon go. The wind carries it out of her hand and into the water, and she follows it with her eyes until it becomes just another dark blot in the water.

She hears footsteps behind her and turns her head to look. She doesn’t recognize the man as one of her current charges, with his messy ginger hair and squarish glasses. He looks tense, hands fidgeting about before he slips them into the pockets of his jeans, and he smiles nervously as she stands up to face him.

“Hi,” she says warmly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“I’m new, I guess,” he says, voice low with a hint of a natural Bostonian accent. “What’s, uh… what’s this place?”

“My place. Say, have you come across a rice cooker out there?”

He snorts, then clears his throat as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Uh… yeah, mine’s in the shop.”

Cherry smiles. “I know, the new sign’s ridiculous. At least they kept the countersign, right? Welcome to Deacon safehouse.”

The man looks up at the lighthouse. “Beacon safehouse?”

Cherry shakes her head. “Deacon. Synth or agent?”

Not skipping a beat, he replies, “Synth.”

“How long do you plan on staying?”

He shrugs. “I guess I didn’t plan that far ahead.”

“Fair enough. As long as you give me a warning before you run away this time.” A smirk tugs at her lips as she adds, “Right, Deacon?”

He grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Yeah, you got me. There’s no fooling you, huh?”

She punches him in the nose and howls something in Chinese. It sure doesn’t sound like a compliment.

As she takes several deep breaths and screws her eyes shut, he rubs his face and mutters, “I deserve that.”

“Yes, you do!” She sighs, long and shaky, as she wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Goddammit, Deacon, I… I…”

“I’m sorry, Xiao.” He meets her eyes and his forehead creases with concern. “I’m really sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything for several moments. She looks at his face—not the one she remembers, but one she still somehow recognizes—and then his hair, soft and thick and sticking up in places, and then his glasses, so new, so clear.

But then again, of course she recognizes him. She’d know the person she loved from miles away and years apart.

He knows she’s taking his changes in, so he swallows and acknowledges them. “I, uh… I went to California for a little bit. I got my first face change out there, and the guy who did it took pictures of his clients before they went under the knife in case they wanted something back, so… I asked for my face back.”

Her eyes widen and shimmer with more tears, which she furiously tries to blink away. “You… this is you? Your real face?”

He almost laughs at the absurdity of that question. The absurdity of the fact that she has to ask it is even worse to think of. “Yeah. The old me. Or at least, as close as he could get it. Age, y’know. Not all of us can still look twenty-five like you do.”

With a shaky hand, she touches his cheek gently. Her hand roams across his skin, from his neck to his nose to his jaw. “It’s you,” she breathes. “It’s always been you.”

He takes hold of her wrist. “Xiao—”

“No, Deacon, it’s always been you. Don’t you see?”

His brows knit together. “I don’t—”

“I knew you would come back. I waited for you all this time, because I knew you would come back to me.”

Now his eyes start itching, burning like they do before the waterworks start, so he sucks in a breath and reminds himself how manly and unemotional he’s supposed to be. It lasts about six seconds. “I love you.” He blurts it out so suddenly he has to take a moment to understand that he actually said it aloud.

“I love you too,” she whispers. “I love you so much.”

His breath shudders and he clenches his fists at his sides, trying to stay rigid and taut so he doesn’t crumple at her feet and cry or fall into her arms and apologize. So he shivers, emotion and chilly wind and too many tears all taking their toll, while staring at this woman who’s really waited for him for a year even after he gave her the worst news of her life and then ran from it.

She sniffles, then sobs, then claps a hand over her mouth as if trying to keep the rest of her voice inside. She reaches out with her other hand and touches him again, this time cradling the base of his skull and stroking his hair.

He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in, and their foreheads touch as they both just stand there and cry. She kisses his nose—the red swelling that’s starting to show—and he cups her cheek in his hand before tracing her jaw with his thumb.

“It’s always been you,” she whispers again once her breath is steady, eyes shut and forehead resting against his. “I’ve always loved you.”

He tries to say “I’m sorry” and “I love you” at the same time and it comes out in a jumble of sounds they both laugh at. So he just hugs her instead, so tight it nearly hurts, and they stay like that on the dock for so long that when they finally pull apart, the sun’s fully set.

She kisses him on the lips, gentle and slow, and then takes both of his hands in hers. “Welcome home, xīngān.”

(Xīngān can be literally translated to “my heart and liver,” which is a very serious and intimate way of telling someone you can’t live without them.)

[dasynka]

I have the impression that my life is firm in Santorini, a month ago. And my current daily life is just a dream not focused. It’s an effect that makes me travel, for so much time. When I travel to live it becomes a real and complete experience. Every hour is intense, every minute my eyes fill with new scenarios, my mind is continually working to memorize, learn, understand… It’s life, this one. It is to live. I am surprised at how many things we have been able to do on the first day.

On the evening of our arrival we only had the strength to unpack luggage and bed. In the morning we got up early to explore Thira, Santorini’s capital. Santorini is a small Greek island of volcanic origin in the Cyclades, which means that it was initially a volcano and what is left of it, the entire left pelvis, came after an explosion. It’s all easily deducible by seeing the island from above: Caldera would be the crater now submerged by the sea, inside which there are small islets formed of lava debris (on which they organize small day cruises). The origin of Santorini also explains the cliffs overhanging the sea and the city built mainly on top of the crater. The beaches, however rocky and without sand for the island’s nature, are on the other side, where the land plunges into the sea softly.

At breakfast I finally tasted the true Greek yogurt: different from that one we buy at supermarket (although in many places where I asked for Greek yogurt they gave me the latter), very dense, acid but not too much, similar to Russian sour cream. I adored her. Especially with jam or a slice of cake. We started exploring Santorini on foot (most of the alleyways are pedestrianized) along the scenic road overlooking Caldera and that at sunset it is filled with people waiting to see the sun disappear in the water. It was a little windy and it rained for a quarter of an hour, but then the sun went out for the rest of the trip. I had been to Santorini six years ago for a day, with a cruise ship. Walking around these alleyways, these typical shops, the mules (they are one of the most traditional transport here and I have a terrible memory, I strongly advise to avoid the walk to the harbor on the mules or on foot, take the buses that are faster and comfortable), these colors, these domes… it was like living a déjà vu. I remembered walking in the same streets with my parents, my sister, that panorama… I left a piece of heart there and a piece of my memories with Mom.

We arrived to the center of Thira, not far from the central bus station (all within walking distance), we asked for information for the ferries to Mykonos and to the buses to the port. We stopped for lunch at a downtown restaurant and tasted the moussaka (a kind of eggplant parmigiana with meat I tried to eat almost every day) and the Santorini salad (Greek’s variety: cherry tomatoes, capers, feta, peppers , Onions, olives, cetriles).

With the bus in twenty minutes we arrived in Oia, the northernmost town on the island, where we walked all afternoon until the twilight, taking an ice cream from Lolita’s. Here there are luxury hotels and shops, and enchanting scenery of houses built one on the other, with endless staircases, pools on Caldera, white and blue between sea and houses. From Oia, there were dark clouds over Thira and the rain surrounding it, while we were in the sun. When we saw Thira lightened and illuminated, we returned to the town and dined at the Galini Café overlooking the Caldera, to admire the sunset by eating crepes and tea matcha (a very particular flavor, similar to a vegetable shake, it’s full of antioxidants). During the golden hours Santorini is orange and pink, completely. As if it were immersed in an acrylic container, and all around it looks like sunsets along with the sun. Because it is the whole city, without any shelter, built in front of the sun, completely white, and leaves that the sun every single night embraces it entirely. In every corner or alley or hidden space, white reflects the gold and transmits it everywhere, and you yourself bathe this color by becoming part of a show that is the most tragic and sublime that exists: the end. The majestic decline, the sunset of life facing the world, the extinction and the consummation that each of us experiences with its existence, every day of our lives, until we reach our destination. But it is the mastery to which we crave that it enchants us even more. The magic and the greatness of the end, which each of us asks. So that it will not just a distracted and fleeting shutdown. Seeing Santorini illuminated by millions of lights is enchanting, photographs fail to reproduce some enchantments.

The island is small and everything is concentrated in the few main cities, which can be visited within a few days. In one day we saw two cities and understood how the means of transport worked, what were the main points and what to visit. It takes three or four days to see everything, but not enough to fill eyes of these scenarios. At every corner there were special photographs, atmospheres to remember. A very rustic island but of a unique elegance. xx Dasynka

Ps. How perfect is this blouse with these landscapes? Looks like done for here. I found it in the Mom’s Home closet in Kiev two months ago. I think she has sewn it by hand, the fabric is delicate and easily tears, it is consumed by time. And it has the smell of that house, of that time and the memory I have of mom. Thank you, mum❤

Ho l’impressione che la mia vita sia ferma a Santorini, ad un mese fa. E che la mia quotidianità attuale sia solo un sogno non messo a fuoco. È un effetto che mi fa ogni viaggio, per diverso tempo dopo. Quando viaggio vivere diventa un’esperienza reale e completa. Ogni ora è intensa, ogni minuto i miei occhi si riempiono di scenari nuovi, la mia mente è continuamente a lavoro per memorizzare, imparare, capire… È vita, questa. È vivere. Io stessa mi sorprendo di quante cose siamo riusciti a fare il primo giorno. La sera del nostro arrivo abbiamo avuto solo la forza di disfare i bagagli e a letto. Di mattina ci siamo alzate presto per esplorare Thira, capoluogo di Santorini. Santorini è una piccola isola greca di origine vulcanica delle Cicladi, questo significa che inizialmente era un vulcano e quello che ne resta, tutto il bacino sinistro, è risultato dopo un’esplosione. È tutto facilmente deducibile vedendo l’isola dall’alto: la Caldera sarebbe il cratere ormai sommerso dal mare, al cui interno ci sono piccoli isolotti formatisi dai detriti lavici (su cui organizzano piccole crociere di un giorno). L’origine di Santorini spiega anche le scogliere a strapiombo nel mare e la città costruita principalmente in cima al cratere. Le spiagge, comunque rocciose e senza sabbia per la natura dell’isola, si trovano dall’altra parte opposta, dove la terra si immerge nel mare dolcemente.

A colazione ho assaggiato finalmente il vero yogurt greco: diverso da quello confezionato che vendono al supermercato (anche se in molti locali in cui ho chiesto lo yogurt greco mi hanno portato quest’ultimo), molto denso, acido ma non troppo, simile alla panna acida russa. Io l’ho adorato. Soprattutto con marmellata o una fetta di ciambella. Abbiamo iniziato l’esplorazione di Santorini a piedi (la maggior parte dei vicoletti sono pedonali) percorrendo la strada panoramica che affaccia sulla Caldera e che al tramonto si riempie di gente che aspetta di vedere il sole scomparire nell’acqua. Era un po’ ventilato e ha piovuto per un quarto d’ora, ma poi è spuntato il sole per tutto il resto del viaggio. Ero già stata a Santorini sei anni fa per un giorno, con una nave da crociera. Camminare tra questi vicoletti, questi negozietti tipici, i muli (sono uno dei più tradizionali mezzi di trasporto qui e io ne ho un ricordo terribile, sconsiglio vivamente la camminata al porto sui muli o a piedi, prendete i bus che sono veloci e comodi), questi colori, queste cupole… è stato come vivere un déjà vu. Ricordavo quando avevo camminato per quelle stesse strade con i miei genitori, mia sorella, quel panorama… ho lasciato un pezzo di cuore lì e un pezzo dei miei ricordi con mamma.

Siamo arrivati fino al centro di Thira, poco distante dalla stazione centrale dei bus (tutto raggiungibile a piedi), abbiamo chiesto informazioni per i traghetti per Mykonos e per i bus per il porto. Ci siamo fermati a pranzo in un ristorantino al centro e abbiamo assaggiato la moussaka (una specie di parmigiana di melanzane e carne che ho cercato di mangiare quasi tutti i giorni) e l’insalata Santorini (variante di quella greca: pomodorini, capperi, feta, peperoni, cipolle, olive, cetrili).

Con il bus in venti munuti ci siamo ritrovati ad Oia, la città più a nord dell’isola, dove abbiamo passeggiato tutto il pomeriggio fino al crepuscolo, preso un gelato da Lolita’s. Qui si trovano hotel e negozi di lusso, e scenari incantevoli delle abitazioni costruite una sull’altra, con scale infinite, piscine sulla caldera, bianco e azzurro tra mare e case. Da Oia si vedevano dei nuvoloni scuri che sovrastavano Thira e la pioggia che la circondava, mentre da noi c’era il sole. Quando abbiamo visto Thira schiarita e illuminata, siamo tornate in città e abbiamo cenato al Galini Cafè che affaccia sulla Caldera, per ammirare il tramonto mangiando crepes e tea matcha (un sapore molto particolare, ricorda molto un passato di verdure, è pieno di antiossidanti). Durante le ore d’oro Santorini si colora di arancio e rosa, completamente. Come se venisse immersa in un contenitore di acrilici, e tutto intorno sembra tramonti assieme al sole. Perché è l’intera città, senza riparo alcuno, costruita di fronte al sole, completamente bianca, e lascia ogni sera che il sole se l’abbracci interamente. In ogni angolo o vicolo o spazio nascosto, il bianco riflette l’oro e lo trasmette ovunque e tu stesso ti bagni di questo colore diventando parte di uno spettacolo che è il più tragico e sublime che esista: la fine. Il declino maestoso, il tramonto della vita affacciata al mondo, l’estinguersi e il consumarsi che ognuno di noi sperimenta con la sua esistenza, ogni giorno della nostra vita, fino ad approdarci. Ma è la maestria a cui aneliamo che ci incanta ancor più. La magia e la grandezza della fine, che ognuno di noi chiede. Perché non sia solo uno spegnersi fugace e distratto. Vedere Santorini illuminarsi di milioni di lucine è incantevole, le fotografie non riescono a riprodurre certi incanti. L’isola è piccola e tutto è concentrato nelle poche città principali, visitabili nel giro di pochi giorni. In un solo giorno abbiamo visto due città e capito come funzionavano i mezzi di trasporto, quali fossero i punti principali e cosa visitare. Bastano tre o quattro giorni per vedere tutto, ma non per riempirsi abbastanza gli occhi di questi scenari. Ad ogni angolo c’erano particolari da fotografare, atmosfere da ricordare. Un’isola molto rustica ma di un’eleganza unica. xx Dasynka

Ps. Quanto è perfetta questa blusa con questi paesaggi? Sembra fatta apposta. L’ho trovata nell’armadio della casa di mamma a Kiev due mesi fa. Credo l’abbia cucita lei a mano, il tessuto è delicatissimo e si strappa facilmente, è consumata dal tempo. E ha l’odore di quella casa, di quel tempo e del ricordo che ho di mamma. Grazie, mami ❤

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Our hotel.

Breakfast at hotel.

Greek yogurt perfect with jam.

View on the Caldera from the hotel.

Thira.

Panoramic road on the Caldera.

Santorini salad & moussaka.

Oia.

Oia’s windmill, the northernmost point on the island.

Byzantine castle ruins in Oia.

Luxury jacuzzi with view.

While we were in the sunny Oia, Thira was flooded with rain.

Thira immersed in the sunset.

Sunset from the Galini Bar in Thira.

Matcha latte.

Sunset.

Twilight.

Evening.

Night.

Photography by me and Carmela.vix, www.carmelavicedomini.it

OUTFIT OF THE DAY

BLOUSE: Created by my Mom SHORTS: Created by me BAG: Forever21 SHOES: H&M SUNNIES: Mango

[show_shopthepost_widget id=”2720122″]

SANTORINI’S LIFE I have the impression that my life is firm in Santorini, a month ago. And my current daily life is just a dream not focused.