#each time i look through the fandom its jarring how popular he is

[sol-consort]

i can't help but feel like i missed the memo on Garrus

[tarithenurse]

In the eyes

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Content: Feels. Angst. Loss. Love. Reference to killing (war and murder). Captivity. Sorrow. Hope. Anger. You name it, it’s there. A/N: I just want to say in my defence that this story isn’t my fault. Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns​...it’s her birthday present (yes, I’m late)!

In the eyes

The steam is long gone together with your interest in the drink when you drain the cup of tea as the black-haired man gets up to leave. The cape hides what he’s missing – if only it was his leg instead – that way you wouldn’t have to keep the distance to the bare minimum, constantly risking him discovering that you’re following him. It doesn’t help to complain, though: he’s alive and mobile...and you have to watch your every move.

Volunteering for the assignment has probably been one of the more masochistic choices you’ve made, but you just couldn’t let the last Uchiha go yet.

For years, watching the kid grow older had kept a wound alive that no one knew about. It festered, saturating you with a sickening, rotten, sadness that never washed off but wasn’t detected by your peers. You should have let it heal. Should have moved on. But there had always been something keeping you from accepting what everyone else had decided must be true.

You weren’t the only one dealing with grief, of course. The life of a Leaf ninja was to say goodbye too soon and then to live with the numbing ache, renewed each time memories stirred.

Before the fourth war, the newfangled gossip of the dead returning was treated as ghost stories by most people until the climax of it all, when too many stood face to face with loved ones. Lost ones. And you were too weak to prevent the hope from being rekindled, so once peace was a reality and all the shinobis prepared to celebrate in the chaotic haze of the aftermath, you made a decision.

That is why, three seconds after the door closes behind Uchiha Sasuke, you get up...

...and sit right down again to avoid pressing against the sharp blade of the person suddenly appearing beside you.

The newcomer’s face is hidden partially under the wide-rimmed hat and the rest behind a dark and tattered cloak. Glancing down, a hand with purple-painted nails slips the kunai into the darkness of the cloak, leaving you with the knowledge that it’s there.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is a shinobi. Where did you come from? Admittedly, there are others frequenting the little tea house because it’s a popular stop at a major crossroads...even if it mainly services those without national affiliations. None of the rest of the clientele reacts to the scene unfolding discreetly and you have no wish to catch their attention before you know what and who you’re dealing with.

“What do you want?”

It takes a second before you realize the question isn’t asked by you. Another one to recover from the smooth dusk that is the stranger’s voice. A voice with a hint of familiarity in the timbre which you decide must be your mind playing games.

“Nothing. I’m no enemy of yours,” you try to placate them, silently counting the seconds worth of head start separating you from Sasuke, “and I hold nothing of value...you should let me go.”

The tickle of a laugh surprises you. “If I’d wanted your possessions, they’d already be mine. I want answers, Konoha-girl.”

The headband you carry is hidden under your clothes, well out of sight from any prying eyes. Finally giving up on stalking your initial target, you turn your undivided attention to the person who has seated them-self before you.

The little skin you can see is pale, and a few black strands have escaped the slack ponytail and fallen in front of the face where only chin and jawline is visible. As if knowing your annoyance, the head is tipped slightly, allowing you to glimpse soft, gently smiling lips. Kissable. The thought jars you.

“I recommend you give up that wish.” No one should be able to hear the nervousness in your voice...but the stranger smirks. “My business is my own.”

“Not when it involves him,” they says, inclining the hat towards the door where Uchiha left.

You’re out to get him? You almost feel sorry for this fool who clearly doesn’t have a clue about the one-armed ninja’s identity.

“Don’t be mistaken,” the person smiles as if reading your thoughts, “I know who he is and what he’s capable of, after all...he’s my brother.”

Calmly meeting your gaze, the eyes meeting you flash red.

...

“Don’t look an Uchiha in the eyes”. It was the warning that was whispered into your ears as soon as you were big enough to run errands on your own. Naturally, you had to do it, and what met you was not as demonic as the warning stories had made you think – rather, they were kind, and wiser than the smooth face hinted at – although you never looked another Uchiha in the eyes just to be on the safe side.

It was impossible to discern the colour. Some days, they seemed leaden as if the rain clouds were gathered inside the boy too. A few times, in the morning when he watched where his fists struck the wood, the sparks from the cozy fire of the evening before still lingered in the warmest of black. What you loved the most, though, was when the gaze was locked onto infinity and they were soft like liquid.

...

Everything is different: the stuffy tea room with its noisy patrons has been replaced by somewhere deserted that seems to be carved out of grey stone.

How did I get here? Careful to move as little as possible, you take in the new surroundings only to find the place empty and with only one way in and out. A dull cold has already seeped into your feet as you stand there, lost as your bearings have nothing to latch on to – the only light is a torch in a wall sconce to your left.

Feet. They are bare, and a quick pat-down reveals that all of your weapons, your belt, and your headband have been stripped from you too. The sensation is uncanny, akin to nakedness. The logic behind it is obvious as it reduces the chances of a successful escape even if you were to make it out and establish a route.

On the other hand: you’re unharmed and unbound.

Turning, you have no doubt that the wooden door is locked but of course you go over to try, heart frozen near your throat when you push against it with your shoulder. Surprisingly, it does open and the screaming hinges sets the tiniest hairs on your body on end.

“Not wasting any time, Konoha-girl.”

You recognize the voice and the decorated nails on the hand that appears to pull open the door completely, and not just from the rest stop but from years of aching recollections that have been warped by watching Sasuke grow up with this man’s shadow lingering over his life. Over your life.

No. There’s no way. He died. Now your heart jackhammers a frenzied rhythm.

It’s a fool’s hope that powers the jab towards his neck. An idiot’s dream urging you to sprint past him. At least I tried, a bitter thought comments the moment both attempts are thwarted as a rib-crushing kick sends your tumbling backwards and you land sprawled in the middle of the room.

The ceiling is still spinning, it seems, when you sense the man’s presence loom over you. The fingers are cool (and surprisingly gentle) as the curl around the back of your skull, fingers digging into your hair to grant a tight grip to pull you closer by. Very close. A hand’s length separates the tips of your noses and you want to be oblivious to the way his mouth curves softly.

“You’re not leaving,” he whispers, “until I say so.”

Feeling and strength are beginning to return to your arms, including a sharp ache in your chest that grows with every shallow breath which you try to ignore. Should have restrained me, fool...and the thought dies there as everything shifts and the ground swallows your limbs.

“N-no...how...? No!”

He watches your struggles lazily before releasing his grip and sitting down next to you on the hard floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you did. Wait...no! You haven’t...it wasn’t you...it can’t have been...

“You lie about your identity,” you scoff, regretting the outburst immediately as pain stabs coldly into your side, “so excuse me for not trusting you on this either.” There is a little smile there on his lips, full of sadness and regret that makes your insides cringe momentarily until you have the breath to explain to him (or yourself) why it can’t be true: “Uchiha Itachi has been killed!”

“Yes...and then I was brought back.” He’s impossibly calm as though he’s simply discussing the weather. “Twice.”

Double reanimated? As if! The war had been a horror to live through and would have been without people facing their deceased comrades and family members on the battlefield. However, once destroyed or sealed, none of the animated dead had walked again and all of them had been dealt with properly in the end.

Looking at the ninja, none of the signs of reanimation are prominent. On the other hand...even if they had been, you might not even notice it now that you meet the man’s gaze and the liquid infinity there.

“I could show you...but I’m afraid your mind can’t take the strain in your current state,” the so-called Itachi explains.

Mind, your aching heart still reels from fear of being broken once more, this is all in my mind.

Zoning out everything else, you focus on the flow of chakra within. Calming it, soothing it, until abruptly forcing the flow to revert. It feels as if your very soul drops for a second but the moment it returns to its place, the world is no longer made up of lies and imaginary sensations...and you’re still lying on the ground in a room made of stone, your ribs feeling as if they’re speared by frost. The only improvement is that at least your limbs are free.

And Itachi? Yes, you have to call him that because deep within you can’t deny it any longer.

The official reports hadn’t been released by the time you left Konoha and you’re not high enough up in the ranks as a shinobi to get the juicy information unless it’s necessary for a mission – and since your missions tend to be B or simpler A rank...well, I guess my current mission’s a bust but this is an important discovery!

A silky chuckle refocuses your attention. “Very good...I suppose I must strengthen my genjutsu against you.”

He’s so close, you could touch him. Shifting to lean against the wall, he rests his arms casually on the knees and begins to pick at the chapping nail polish.

“No need to,” you bite back a groan as you roll over to sit up, “I take it that’s how you got me here?” Pretty eyes are watching your every move as he nods in agreement. “Hm. It’ll probably be useless to ask where we are, so...why? Why show yourself now?”

Sitting cross legged, you find the pain lessens if you pull your clothes and arms tightly around your torso, restricting the depth of your breathing. Broken or bent ribs? Not that it really matters. First of all, he would be able to beat you in a fight anyways; secondly, even if you got out of here you wouldn’t know where “here” is; and third (but not least), you don’t really want to run from him.

Rather than answer, Itachi stands up and holds out his left hand for you. Puzzled, you take it. Soft fingers curl around yours and he pulls you to your feet, studying your movements and the twisting facial expressions.

He doesn’t let go.

Not when he guides you out the door and into a hallway shaped of the same kind of stone as the room was made of. Carved from.

Not when he slows down at the sound of the squeaky breathing the pace forces from you.

There doesn’t seem to be many rooms along the winding path. Here and there a door bars the way or you catch a glimpse of a dead-end that looks as though the excavation was abandoned or even disrupted by cave-ins.

You do your best to memorize the path, but frankly, your mind is getting fuzzy from pain and exhaustion. You have no sense of time, just hunger and tiredness weighing you down to indicate the loss of many hours.

“Just a bit longer, [Y/N],” Itachi soothes.

When did I tell him my name? You want to ask or at least protest, but it would be a choice between talking or getting to wherever he’s leading you...and you doubt he’ll let you pause.

A few dozen steps later and a short flight of stairs up, he ushers you through a door into a room that looks like a mix between a kitchen and work station. A fire is the only light and heat source (the smoke venting up through a chimney too narrow to be an escape route), casting a warm glow over the solid wooden table and chairs. Everything else is hewn from whatever mountain you’re inside.

“Sit,” your captor finally releases the grip and points at a chair near the fire and you obediently do as you’re told.

There are shelves and niches almost hidden in the dancing shadows at first holding with boxes, bundles, and various utensils. He knows where everything is, grabbing a few items before returning and laying it out in the light. Bandages. His movements are fluid and elegant, just like you remembered.

He motions towards your upper body, then turns to tend to the fire. “Strip.”

“That’s really not -”

“Some of your ribs are broken. Restraining them will minimize the pain.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

With clipped movements, you pull off the layers until you hesitate at the poor excuse of a bra. Despite the now roaring fire, the cold from the stone still seeps into your body and raises waves of goosebumps and tightens your nipples. It would be easier to apply the bandages correctly without the last bit of clothing in the way, but right now it feels like the only shield left at your disposal as Itachi turns back to you.

“We’ll work around that,” the man offers softly.

He works quietly at first. Hands winding the linen bandages around you adeptly, pausing each time the ministration intensifies the pain and causes the discomfort to escape as stubborn hisses. The purple nail polish is mesmerizing – simultaneously a contrast to the horrific stories of a killer and perfectly fitting the pretty, nearly feminine, traits you see. Especially the eyes. Sure, they’re filled with a bottomless sadness that you don’t feel comfortable acknowledging, but they’re beautiful. Haunting.

“You’re staring,” he hums without looking up.

Shit. “No. I just -...let’s say you’re who you claim to be,” you try to recover, “why’re you back?”

“To be his watcher.”

“Says who?”

This time, he stops and looks you dead in the eyes. “Otsutsuki Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths.” There are very few proper comebacks to that, so your captor continues without giving you a chance to think of something, “Otsutsuki told me about the bonds of families and that it can transcend blood. He knows hatred can cause – and has caused – too much harm...but something rekindled his hope that it can be overcome.“

I don’t have an eye on Uchiha constantly, but... “Does Sasuke know?” Returning to his work, Itachi avoids your gaze. “He doesn’t...”

“He’s finally found peace and is on the right path...I can’t risk undoing it.”

Bullshit! “Or you’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to fa-” the rest is cut off as soft fingers tighten around your throat.

Blood-red eyes pierce your mind, numbing you for an eternity or a millisecond.

...

They were a means to reach the goal but their words still hurt as you followed meekly in their footsteps. Snobbery. Disdain. Considering how proud your two team members clearly felt, they had very little to show for their reputation as Uchihas and frankly, it was your skills rather than theirs that ensured successful missions and still, you never once looked them in their face. Instead, you kept an eye out for two other of the clan.

Where one was, so would the other be. Thick as thieves, the boys had found a companionship that complemented their differences in the same manner as the sun and the moon. But as opposed to your teammates who swooned at the brightness of the sun, you were drawn to the night and the calmness it brought whenever that boy was near – each time he met your eyes, time became meaningless.

...

The two of you sit in silence as the steam from the soup caresses your face. Your mind is blank, slowly starting to pick up on the absence of stone walls – wood has replaced the cold surfaces, making it almost unbearably warm with the bandages underneath your layers of clothes – and a plethora of questions begin to press against your conscious only to be held back as most of your thoughts get derailed whenever you look at the man before you.

Without the hat and cloak to conceal him, it’s impossible to ignore all the details you’ve nurtured in your memory for ages, such as the slight pull of his lips as he thinks or the elegance of his movements now that he gets up and refills his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire.

“Why are you following Sasuke?”

You should be diplomatic. “I could ask you the same.” You’re not.

“I already told you,” Itachi shrugs.

“Well I...I don’t believe you.”

But you do. There’s no denying anymore that this man is who he claims to be and so, why would he lie about his purpose? The sad smile. The quiet mannerisms. The idea that Itachi would somehow transcend death to watch over his little brother? That’s a mysterious intricacy that fits with your memories of him from before that night.

“You do...but something else is bothering you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Am I not what you expected?”

No, you’re not. However, he’s what you remember with a layer of sorrow added on top. He doesn’t get to be sad. The little spark of anger is what you need. You nurse it, feed it until it flares up hot and bright and consumes your regrets and self-pity.

“Expected? I don’t know what I expected from someone like you!” Your voice is rising, shaking with years of frustration. “Clan killer. Murderer. I never told anyone but I was in love with an Uchiha! That night, I’d gone to bed, finally sure that I was gonna tell him but when I woke up...” Something inside you had broken that day and it still hurts now. “They told me how you’d left Sasuke alive...but the boy I loved was gone and no one knew I was mourning. Each time I saw him -” you can’t hold back a strangled sound and you realize, you’re crying -”I saw the ghost of...” The bowl of floating vegetables looks blurry until you blink angrily. “Ugh! But what does a teenager know of love, right? They’ll grow up. Get over it. Except I knew you were out there still and that you had all the answers. Why? The Itachi I remember wasn’t a mindless monster! I was told a story, but it doesn’t make any sense. If all the monster wanted was power then why spare Sasuke? Why did everyone else have to die?”

The inhalations are shallow and rapid, making you dizzy as you cling to the table and the spoon. It burns in your lungs and cheeks.

“I am sorry for the pain, I’ve caused you.”

Your gaze snaps to his face and you know he’s speaking the truth but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You don’t get to be sorry! I missed y-...the boy, I loved was gone and it took ages before I could let go and stop mourning, finally accepting the truth had died with you and now...now you’re here? And it’s all back and I don’t understand! How could you?” Itachi doesn’t flinch as you launch the bowl towards him – he doesn’t have to because your aim is off and it clatters to the floor in a shower of shards and wasted food after hitting the wall behind him. “How? The boy I loved was not a monster! He wouldn’t do what they s-”

The echoes of your wheezing shouts ring through the room after the abrupt stop. Holding your breath, you wait for the ground to swallow you whole or for the man at the other end of the table to react and the fear is colder than the burning in your chest.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Itachi eventually whispers, “they were just people who had been wronged and misguided until their arrogance made them blind.”

What? That’s not exactly what you had expected. Without explaining further, your captor gets up, handing you his bowl of food before beginning to clean the mess you’ve made.

“Don’t...I’ll get tha-” you begin.

He only has to look at you.

...

The dew had soaked your toes, cooling and soothing them after each kick that you landed on the wood stump. Pine. The new splinters refreshed the scent as they fell to the ground and you knew that birds would rummage through them in the hope of finding a morning snack once the training grounds were free of people again – they were already gathering at the edge of the clearing except for where Itachi stood.

The realization made you stop mid-kick, gaze locked with his and heart fluttering in your chest. How long had he stood there?

“They’re wrong.” You could barely believe he was talking to you. “Your teammates...don’t listen to what they say.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Itachi was gone and maybe it had all been your imagination running free.

...

Sitting up abruptly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the low light of the dying embers. Where am I?

Salt and drying seaweed is heavy in the air, somehow worming its way into what appears to be yet another room of stone. No...it’s a cave. You’re sitting on a bedroll splayed out onto the sand filling the place and you have no memory of arriving.

The dark form on the other side of the fire pit makes no move as you slip a hand underneath your shirt to confirm what you already know: the bandages are gone and there’s only a muted tenderness as you prod at the ribs. How long has it been?

“You’re safe,” Itachi’s gentle voice assures, and you feel your pulse slow despite the ominous situation, “go back to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep...hang on! Shaking your head, you fight the urge to succumb to the fuzziness that weighs your thoughts. “Why’re you doing this?” you mumble.

It doesn’t make sense why the man wouldn’t simply get the answers he want and then dispose of you or at the very least leave you locked up somewhere while he keeps following Sasuke from the shadows. Instead, your captor has put an effort into keeping you comfortable. Feeding you.

“I remember you.” His eyes reflect the red coals as they burn into your soul all over again. “Memories don’t do your justice, though.”

...

There is no world beyond the walls of the garden but a red sheet of sky dotted with storm clouds. The sliding doors have been pushed aside, opening the hallway to the view, and you know the wood beneath your bare feet should be silky from decades of use. You can’t feel it. There are no scents either, no breeze to toy with the soft fabric of your yukata, nor insects clicking from the rhododendron.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” Itachi confirms from behind you, “but here I can create what you need. Who you need.”

Turning at last, there’s no reason to shy away from meeting his gaze even if it matches the fake sky. He looks real – as opposed to the familiarity of the home of your childhood that surrounds the two of you – and the ghost of a smile kindly tries to hide the sadness.

“...need. For what?”

The black strands falling into his face are strangely dull in the nightmarish light. “Closure.”

“That’s not possible.”

Wanting to leave, to run away and avoid what Itachi intends, you find yourself rooted in place by an invisible force. Even turning your face away is impossible and you pray that he doesn’t understand the well of emotions he must be able to see in your eyes.

“This is a chance for you to say goodbye to the one I killed. The one you...love,” he pauses to scrutinize your expression and you try to remain neutral, “because you do. You still love him.”

“You have no right...” swallowing hard, you fight to keep the words back, “no right t-to claim to know what I need!” Finally, you manage to close your eyes but they snap open again at the touch of his fingertips on your forehead. “This isn’t something you get to fix like -”

...

The world has shifted again and you’re back in the ocean side cave. You can feel how uneven the sand is under your knees and shins even with the bedroll to soften the press and some some the grains have found their way in between your toes...but none of that matters because Itachi is still right before you, his fingers gently resting on your brow.

A pop-and-crackle from the fire pit is the only sound other than your shallow breathing. You know, he knows. Eyes widened in nigh-comedic understanding, it’s as if he sees you for the first time.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

You barely manage to whisper, “for what?”

His fingertips send shivers along your spine as they trace a path, allowing him to cradle the back of your neck in his palm.

“Everything” Itachi’s lips brush your cheek, “for breaking your heart in so many ways and for making you think your love was unrequited.”

[another-mexico-oc]

The most used Mexico´ cliches in fanfiction and comics (And surely this can apply to any other OC)

Traducción en Español: AQUÍ

DISCLAIMER:

This post DOES NOT intend to throw shit and attack specific authors or their work, so out of respect we will not mention names. If you have read my other posts you will know that this only has the purpose of entertaining and to give a personal opinion.

Also, this does not intend to be a manual or guide on how to write a good comic or fanfic. It is only a compilation of repetitive elements found throughout these works.

Now, let's continue ...

Hi! How are you doing? I hope you are safe at home, and in case you have to go outside take your precautions.  

I have been in Hetalia's fandom for more than a year, and the Countryhumans' less than a year, and both my cousin and I have seen and read enough material from Mexico's OCs, enough to compile in a list the most popular cliches when reading a fanfic or comic which involves this character. As I said at the beginning, this is not a guide of what to do and what not, but we invite creators to find new ways to tell the same stories (or even new ones) differently and to not fall into the predictable.

( Perhaps it is because in my university career one of my teachers was very demanding with coherent scripts and stories, and that she tended to review them 10 times before giving the approval, that I became very demanding with the creation of stories and characters. But that's my personal issue! )

Sarcastically, this should be called "The clichés that cannot be miss for your Mexico´ story" :

1. The Mexico´OC was created ONLY to be the love interest of another character (the author's favorite):

In the same way, the author´ comics and fanfics will be of the romantic genre, and it will involve his favorite ship (or his various ships if he/she is a multi-shipper). Making a brief conclusion, there are few works in which Mexico stands out as a character, without having the love interest, or the famous harem, as the main plot.

And if you were curious, here is a chart that shows the most used ships in the Hetalia´ case, although in 2020 it may have slight changes:

(Denmark and Norway?! I have never found any fic about them being paired with Mexico)

2. María Sue and Gary Estuardo:

More cliché this could not be. Even when I´m mexican myself, I realize that the representation of my country has received the Mary Sue treatment by the fandom, both in Hetalia and in Countryhumas, and mostly by the latino and mexican community. I already talked about this HERE, but I'll summarize it:

Regardless of whether Mexico is a man or a woman:

- They will be the center of the universe, all the characters will kiss the ground they step on, they will be the most cute person in the world, without flaws, and their greatest virtue will be his or her ethereal beauty that will make everyone to fall in love with them, with just an eye blink.

- It´s never their fault and they will never face the consequences of their actions, e.g. causing WW3. What's even more, he or she is just a poor victim of the evil countries that want to take advantage of his/her territory.

- Having got laid or dating half of the world will not cause them serious consequences or a negative reputation.

- Personality? Oh my, that´s very complicated to write, instead I will narrate how my female Mexico arrived at the restaurant with a dress that highlighted her feminine attributes and how her long and abundant hair made more than one person to sigh; Or how my male Mexico wore tight pants that showed his perfect toned legs, and that when he smiled he made blush every country.

If it was a parody, I'd accept Mexico to be a Mary Sue or a Gary Stu. But usually the authors want you to take the story and the character seriously. So... nope.

3. Plots taken from soap operas, or telenovelas:

Believe it or not, there are authors who have admitted that their Mexico´ fanfics are based on mexican telenovelas. And the worst thing is that telenovelas have the most cliche stories in the world! Think about it, you have a good and humble, but kind of dumb person, who in this case is going to be Mexico, who falls in love with a handsome and rich person, who will obviously be a first world country, but there is someone who wants to finish their romance. You also have forced marriages, fights, misunderstandings, slaps, super dramatic scenes, passionate scenes, cheesy titles...

Mix all this elements together, and you will get:

For comedy purpose, we will be using my OC)

4. The fanfic or comic always, ALWAYS, has to start with a world meeting:

I propose a challenge for you and your friends. Gather together and search for Mexico fanfics, no matter the fandom where you all came from. Take a shot, or put a coin in a jar, for every time the first chapter begins at a meeting.

And almost always it is here where the author builds the romantic story, examples:

“It was a normal day in the boardroom, everyone was arguing while Germany (United Nations if it is a Countryhumans fic) tried in vain to put order and discipline. Only a nation was waiting for a certain person with brown skin and delicate features, to enter through that great door… ”

“Suddenly, a brown skin girl with black and curly hair (Seriously guys, where did you got the idea your average mexican girl has natural curly hair?!) entered the room, and the entire room went silent. Everyone who was there had something to do with that young lady, and seeing her there, turned into a full woman, left them stunned. She was gorgeous.”

Another cliché, but this one can be in any story, is: "Realizing that it was getting late, he got up, took off his pajamas, groomed, combed his hair, and put on his yellow shirt with his ...". There are several ways to start the story without the famous world meeting and the character's morning routine.

5. The harem and love triangles (or any other geometric shape):

This cliché could not be missing either. There are a lot of Mexico x TheWorld´ fanfics. As I said before, I am not against the shipping and the harem of Mexico, each one is free to ship whatever they like, as long as there is respect between the community.

But even when an author wants to focus on a single couple, let's take for example Canada x Mexico, he necesarily has to include USAMex and RusMex as secondary couples, and at some point it gets exhausting and reforces the Mary Sue treatment. It seems that for many authors, Mexico's international relations automatically translate into a “romantic relationship”, and not into a friends or business partners one.

And also, the construction of the relationship it feels sometimes very empty. The author doesn't give time to show how they become a couple or how they found the chemistry in the other. In the third chapter they are already making out!

6. The toxicity:

Oh yeah.

I don't blame this clichá, my cousin and I concluded that healthy relationships are rare in Hetalia and Countryhumans. Practically all countries have one or two flaws that at first sight makes them look toxic. And in Mexico's fanfics and comics, particularly those involving USAMex, the character gets involved in a possessive and codependent relationship.

If Mexico is not a dominant male or a femme fatale, it will be a submissive character who will allow all kinds of abuse. Or in each chapter he or she will doubt about his/her relationship, and will make their partner jealous.

To write a healthy relationship, you must work on the characters' strengths and make them both face their flaws, but instead, the authors take these flaws and make them the basis of the relationship.

7. The party´ chapter in which things get ... heavily crazy:

Okay, so we have our first chapter at the world meeting, where we establish the main couple. Now what we need is the stage for the lovebirds to confess their love ... while being drunk. In many works we will find the countries gathered at a party (usually a Latino party), and the author will narrate all the crazy events that occur, including how Mexico and his sweetheart, will confess their feelings after having taken a few bottles, and sometimes this gets to ...

8. The chapter (or chapters) + 18

This is almost a requirement for many fanfic´ writers, and is always written in the same way. The author will narrate you in detail from the moment they begin to undress until the climax moment.

9. Spain will never stop calling Mexico "New Spain", despite the fact that more than 200 years have passed since the country's independence and its recognition:

And in the case of Hetalia, Mexico must have the same last name as Spain: Hernández Carriedo. Yes, in the same way that United States last name is not Jones, but Kirkland, like its ex-colonizer England; or that Belarus last name is Braginski as his brother Russia, and not Arlovskaya.

Also, although Spain continues to call Mexico "New Spain", he will never call Argentina "Rio de la Plata" or Colombia "New Granada". Similarly, England and France will never call America and Canada "13 Colonies" and "New France" respectively. It seems to be something exclusive for Spain and Mexico.

10. Repetitive references and jokes, or lack of knowledge about the country.

Paco the chihuahua dog, Mexico and Sudamericans fighting over the avocado´s name, Mexico having flashbacks of his/her past with the Aztec Empire and with the USA when they were colonies, Mexico complaining about his/her rulers and corruption within the country, Mexico crying over Texas, Mexico demonstrating his/her beautiful culture to other countries …

Not to mention when someone makes an Mexico OC and his knowledge of the country is very basic: tacos, sombreros, Day of the Dead, always hot climate, the wall issue with America, Aztec and Maya as the only ancestors of Mexico, Texas, burritos... Sorry if I sound rude but, those people need to read and investigate more, and watch less movies where Mexico has that yellow filter.

11. Bad translations

Okay, this is something exclusive of the spanish speaking fandom, but I´ll tell you what´s their issue.

Some author had the brilliant idea to make the dialogues of the countries in their respective languages, followed by placing the Spanish translation in parentheses, and from there many followed suit. The problem is when you notice that they don´t speak or understand the language, and instead they use the Google translator, obtaining results like this:

There have been several occasions when I am reading America and England´ dialogues, and it makes me want to write in the comment section: “DON´T USE THE GOOGLE TRANSLATOR! ” I wouldn´t know what to say from the rest of the countries, since my French is very basic,and I have hardly learned one phrase from the others languages.

My advise for these authors is to find a person who is fluent in the language and who can help them with the dialogues. Or even better, try to avoid this cliché, because at the end of the day people will only read the translation, and it is already implied that each country speaks in its respective language. Also doing this is very pretentious.

The less you can do is to add in the dialogues well know words, like adiós, hola, bonjour, ciao...

12. Changing the canon personalities. Or worse: turn a loved character into a villain.

I already said this HERE too. Basically, for the author to make his Mexico an empathic character and to make other countries to fall in love with him or her, they must conveniently change their canon personalities. This applies more in Hetalia than in Countryhumans, since this last one belongs to the community and nobody can establish what is canon and what is not. On the other hand, in Hetalia the characters already have their own personalities, and neither plays the role of villain. And there is a big difference between being an antagonist or a villain, but I´ll let you to investigate it yourself.  

This cliché is closely related to the Mary Sue treatment, because if I want readers to empathize with Mexico, I must turn another character into an evil person who is going to put him through hardships. And normally this character is the United States or America, whatever you call him.

If I want Russia or Germany to fall in love with Mexico, I must rewrite their characters and throw out the unstable part of Russia, and Germany's little experience regarding romantic relationships, just to make them the most romantic and sentimental people in the world.

✥   ✥   ✥   ✥   ✥   ✥   ✥   ✥

There you have it! I think I already roasted 80% of Mexico fanfiction and fanart, but is not like they are going to dissapear with this post. On the good side, for every time I cringed reading some of these works, I have saved a good amount money, you must try it. I should try an aside blog where I criticize bad fanfiction... But at the moment, that´s all for today! See ya!

[rangoatemybabynsfw]

Kinktober (2019) Day 3: Food Play

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender Pairing: Keith/Lance Tags: Galtean au, Altean Lance, Galra Keith, food play, licking, frottage

Author’s notes: Universe based on THIS DRABBLE some time ago, in case you wanted some background.

“Your highness,” a handmaiden interrupts Lance’s nap.

The young prince yawns and stretches out on his chaise lounge, not eager to move and not pleased at having been awoken. He supposes its close to lunchtime and that’s why she’s here. That said, he’s not particularly hungry and would rather return to the world of dreams, so the sooner he gets rid of her the better.

“What is it?” the prince asks, tone bored and dismissive.

“Your betrothed has come to call on you.”

“Keith’s here?” Prince Lance asks as he sits up, suddenly alert. “I mean...Prince Keithorak. He’s come to visit? I thought he wasn’t returning for another week.”

“Shall I show him in?”

“Yes, yes, of course, he’s always to be shown in, no need to ask,” Lance reminds her, gesturing her to hurry up. 

Now he’s feeling in a much better mood. Entertaining Keith when he visits always brightens his day, mostly because Keith is so funny without intending to be.

The Galra have some old school views on intimacy that shows itself in incredibly entertaining ways. It’s almost puritanical. When he and Keith are together it's adorable how painfully awkward Keith is about proximity. Even though they’ve been betrothed for several months now, they haven’t done anything more than chaste kisses to the hands. One time, Lance leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and he thought Keith was going to faint. 

It’s been better lately though. 

Keith will offer his arm to Lance so they can walk through the castle gardens together but not without a slight flush to his cheeks as Lance leans on him. It used to be that Keith would avert his eyes if Lance looked up at him amidst playing his lyre but now he maintains eye contact with a fond look. He still very audibly swallows any time Lance tilts to whisper into his big galra ears, but at least he’s gotten past stammering with uncertainty each time they speak.

Keith enters his chambers in long strides with an easy smile and small covered basket under his arm. Last time he brought Lance flowers. And before that some poetry books. Keith never visits without bringing some kind of present for Lance, as if his company wasn’t gift enough.

Full of proper decorum, as always, Keith takes a knee at Lance’s lounging chair. He takes Lance’s offered hand and kisses his knuckles softly.

“Good afternoon, Prince Lanciera,” Keith tells him.

“Yes, it is, now that you’re here,” Lance smiles and laughs a little at Keith’s nervous clearing of his throat. “You know you don’t have to keep doing that? Prostrating yourself before me as if I were the King can’t be good for your knees.”

“Aching knees are a small price to pay to humble myself before your elegance,” Keith says and Lance laughs, lifting Keith’s heart. 

“You always know what to say,” Lance chuckles. “And I’ve told you to stop being so formal. We’re betrothed, you can simply call me Lance.”

“R-Right. I...brought you a gift,” Keith announces and presents the basket. “I was unsure if you’d eaten yet but…”

Lance lifts the covering and peeks inside. Crackers, cheeses, and fruit preserves. They must be popular foods in Daibazal because he doesn’t recognize the contents as local fare. Lance wasn’t hungry before but he is now at the prospect of sharing a meal with Keith.

“Come sit with me up here,” Lance offers while patting the cushion. “We’ll eat it together,” he smiles.

Lance dismisses his maids and his guards to give them some privacy. Keith’s ears always go down initially when Lance does this, uncertain about them being alone as it would simply not be allowed in Daibazal. Not until they were married at least. But they are not in Daibazal, Lance always reminds him, and after a few minutes of conversation, Keith mellows out and relaxes.

They sit on the lounge together a mere foot apart, something Keith would have shied away from months ago. Lance leans in close and watches with interest as Keith prepares the contents. Crackers with a smooth cheese that he spreads on with a cheese knife. He makes a move to offer it to Lance but his Altean prince gives him a playful smirk.

“Feed it to me,” Lance requests and parts his mouth to receive it.

Keith hesitates, warmth creeping onto his cheeks as he looks at that pretty pink tongue.

“Please?” Lance asks, doe-eyed and innocent. 

“Anything for you...your highness,” Keith manages to say as he brings the snack to his mouth.

He feeds the cheese to Lance, holding his breath as his fingers just barely brush Lance’s lip. Lance’s mouth closes around it and chews slowly, eyes closed as he savors the flavor. Keith can’t take his eyes off Lance’s soft lips as he waits for Lance to tell him what he thinks.

“Spicy,” Lance finally comments with a thoughtful look, licking his lips. “Never had a spicy cheese before. It’s good though.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Keith tells him, more than relieved. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah?” Lance smiles and readies the next cracker. “You have one. Here, open up.”

Keith does that nervous swallow again, but he does lean forward. Eyes closed and mouth open. Lance wants to giggle at that look on his face but doesn’t, instead, he presses the food to Keith’s lips past those sharp Galra teeth and onto his tongue. His fingers don’t linger there and Keith’s mouth closes to chew the food.

“Good, hmm?” Lance asks and Keith nods his head. 

They exchange a few more before Lance asks for the next item. Some tart berries from a bundle on a vine that often get made into pies but wonderful on their own. Again Lance entreats him to place them on his tongue and does the same to Keith, scooting in closer as they feed each other. More than once Lance almost catches Keith’s fingers in his lips but if Keith notices he doesn’t comment.

“What’s this?” Lance asks as he pulls a jar from the basket. He opens it and smells the contents, humming with approval.

“Daibazal spiced apples in syrup,” Keith tells him. 

Before Keith can retrieve a fork to pull one out, he sees Lance--in his impatience--stick his thumb and forefinger inside to just grab one. Very unprincely but Keith is fond of that enthusiasm and just chuckles. Lance keeps the dripping apple over the jar to catch falling syrup and extends it to Keith. 

“You first,” Lance says.

Keith’s gotten so used to taking food from Lance today that he shakes his head with a laugh and leans forward to take it without comment. It’s good but they’re dripping little drops of syrup everywhere, some is even making a slow sticky trail down Lance’s beautiful slender wrist. 

“Good?” Lance asks and Keith nods. “Shame it’s so messy.”

“If you had used a fork, your highness--”

Lance just shrugs and slowly licks his palm with Keith’s enrapt eyes watching him. He breath shallows as he follows that pink tongue sliding over his skin and lips wrapping around fingers to suck off the spiced syrup. Keith swallows and his own tongue just barely peeks out to lick between his lips. Lance takes note of the attention, an idea forming in his head as extends the jar to Keith. 

“Your turn,” Lance tells him with a knowing look. “Feed me one?”

Keith does it the same way Lance did, dips his fingers into the apples and pulls out a slice. He feeds it to Lance, placing the fruit into his mouth. His hand lingers near Lance’s face as he chews, as if unwilling to leave quite yet. 

“What...do you think? Your highness?” Keith asks, his voice barely over a whisper.

Lance swallows and licks his lips slow before opening his eyes. His lidded gaze darts to Keith’s sticky fingers still close by. He takes Keith by the wrist and pulls his hand toward his parted lips. Lance does a tentative lick on the pad of Keith’s finger and when he doesn’t react, he sucks the finger into his mouth with a heady sigh.

Keith’s face suddenly changes shades and his breath catches as Lance’s tongue swirls around his finger. But he doesn’t pull out of Lance’s hold.

“Delicious,” Lance says right before he sucks a new sticky finger into his mouth again. 

“Y-Your Highness,” Keith finally stammers out.

“Lance. I told you...when we’re alone like this...call me Lance,” he insists as he finishes the last of the syrup. “Feed me another, Keith? Unless...you want to stop?”

No, he doesn’t want to stop. Keith shakes his head and fishes a new slice out of the jar.

Lance does it again. And again. He eats the apple and then takes Keith's fingers into his mouth, sucking gently to clean them of syrup. It’s turning the atmosphere into one charged with heat and both are feeling it. This is the most alone and intimate they’ve ever been and it shows on their flushed faces-- and in other places.

The thing about Altean royal clothing is it leaves nothing to the imagination. Luxurious silken garbs and dangling golden jewelry. Keith had almost gotten used to how sheer it all was but suddenly he’s reminded that it can’t hide much. Especially in the area of physical reactions and seeing Lance’s obvious hardon gives Keith a reaction of his own in his trousers.

“Do you want some?” Lance asks, his voice breathy. He’s got a sticky apple slice in his fingers ready to feed Keith.

For once, Keith’s not feeling ashamed like his culture makes him feel about his out-of-wedlock desires. Not ashamed of his hunger...for Lance. Maybe just a little taste...wouldn’t be so bad. 

Just a little taste.

“I...I’m not hungry...for apples,” Keith admits, his own eyes lidding. 

Keith takes the initiative and grabs Lance by the wrist, making him gasp with surprise and drop the fruit right onto the cushion. Neither seems to care. Lance watches on bated breath as Keith leans in, eyes closed and licks a long hot strip up the trail of syrup dripping down his arm. 

“Oh Keith,” Lance sigh and Keith bites back a groan.

That tongue is hot and wet, his lips closing on Lance’s pulse as he sucks spiced sugar from his skin with hungry panting breaths. It’s like he’s trying to hold back but he’s losing the battle of self-control. 

“May I...kiss you...Lance?” Keith breathes raggedly against his knuckles.

Does he mean on the hand like he always does or-- 

He knows Keith doesn’t mean that the second the Galra prince looks up from that hand and into Lance’s eyes. Face flushed, ears flattened down, and mouth parted, showing off those Galra teeth as he tries to take controlled breaths. His eyes are dusky with desire, eyes that keep darting to Lance’s soft lips.

Like he would he ever deny his prince.

Lance slides himself into Keith’s lap, cupping the back of his neck with both hands and nodding to give him the go-ahead. Keith starts with a deep breath at Lance’s hairline, breathing out hot on his pulse before pressing his open mouth to Lance’s neck.  Keith’s hands go to Lance’s sides holding firmly as he licks and sucks and mouths all over his soft flesh. It’s not long before Lance finally grabs Keith’s face and directs him to his mouth. 

Apples and spices and Lance. That’s what the kisses taste like to Keith as his tongue fervently explores Lance’s moaning mouth. Sweet. Warm. Wet. His senses are kicking into overdrive and it doesn’t help when Lance starts moving.

All it takes is Lance rocking just a little in his lap and Keith squeezes Lance’s hips to still him as he groans out a moan.

“L-Lance,” he stammers.

“Please,” Lance whispers into his ear, desperate to keep moving. “Please...Keith.”

“We c-can’t...I...we’re n-not…” Keith tries but can’t form the words. 

The message is clear enough though--they aren’t actually married yet and with Keith’s upbringing, it feels inappropriate to be indulging in this. What if someone catches them? It’s not like they have true privacy here. Any moment now a maid or messenger could enter.

“We don’t have to couple yet…We can wait on that,” Lance promises and presses his forehead to Keith’s. “I just... want to make you feel good... So please...” 

Keith breathes heavy, inhaling every scent in the room. The crackers and cheese that were knocked to the floor. The tipped over jar of spiced apples soaking into and ruining the chaise lounge. Lance’s sweat, scented oils, and his...arousal leaving a wet stain all it’s own on his clothes. That makes his decision for him.

He pulls Lance’s hips forward against him, groaning at the exquisite friction of Lance’s ass on his clothed cock. Lance assists in the movement, grinding against Keith with moans of his own. Before long they’re both clutching to each other and panting heavily.

Keith buries his face into Lance’s shoulder, resisting the primal urge to mark Lance up--to scratch through his clothes and leave permanent scars to let everyone know that Lance is his. His fangs barely scrape against the silk, his tongue darting out to find the skin of his collarbones. What he’d give to have the meat of his shoulder in his mouth and to taste blood instead of apples. But again he resists.

He doesn’t want to hurt his partner. His prince. His love.

Like Keith feared, before they can finish, there’s a knock at the door. Both princes untangle themselves from each other quickly enough, though unwillingly from the looks on their faces. There’s a message from Lance’s mother, reminding him of his lessons with his tutors and that just because Keith is here it doesn’t mean he gets to skip out on his responsibilities. 

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Lance huffs with annoyance and waves the man away. “Send for a maid to clean up my lounge. And a change of wardrobe for me.”

“Yes, your Highness,” they bow and leave.

“I should take my leave,” Keith coughs. He tries to hide the flush on his face with his hand and his erection by turning away slightly. 

“You could stay? Watch me practice the lyre?” Lance offers but Keith shakes his head. 

“I have other duties to attend to. I uh...I wasn’t supposed to detour here today so I may get an earful from the general,” Keith admits and then takes a knee to give Lance his respectful bow. “I...will endeavor to see you again when the soonest I can be spared.”

“Will you bring me another gift?” Lance asks.

“What would you like your highness?” Keith asks, his eyes still tilted down to the ground to avoid Lance’s sparkling blue ones.

“I’d like you to stop calling me ‘your highness’ for one,” Lance snorts. “But that will never happen, will it?”

“Unlikely,” Keith answers, his amused smile barely visible with his head bowed. 

“Then...I’d like more of those spiced apples of yours,” Lance says, extending a hand and cupping Keith’s cheek to turn his face up. “We can...share them again. Perhaps in the maze garden where we’ll have more privacy?”

Keith swallows and Lance almost laughs. Considering what they were doing only moments ago it’s funny to see him nervous and self-conscious all over again. But he doesn’t stammer and he doesn’t pull out of Lance’s hand at the touch, if anything he leans into it a little. Keith attempts a stoic look as he closes his eyes but his vibrant flush betrays him.

“Anything for you...my prince.”

For last year’s Kinktober, check out my Masterlist! If you want more of my Voltron writing, check out my Patreon!

[earths-roots-grow-up]

My Hetalia journey... kinda :D with Prussia!

So lately I found some very old stuff I wrote for Hetalia when I entered the fandom in 2012 and it blew my mind xD. It was pretty jarring, seeing how different I wrote Prussia then. It made me think about all the changes that he went through in my head and well I thought it may be interesting, as lately I read some ‘how I used to see this character vs now’ posts and they were super interesting to me :).

Prussia was always my fav character, but the way I headcanonned him was waaaay different from the way I see him today. Like a totally different person, both in look and personality.

Personality-wise, I bought into the whole 'Prussia is a crazy unpredictable force of nature, also super irresponsible' mindset that was popular in the fandom back then. Only with time have I started to actually analyze the culture of the country and ended up throwing that initial interpretation completely out. Back then I had this idea that Prussia was the crazy one and Germany was the rational one that had to keep his wacky older bro in check and that was the main axis (lol pun not intended) of their relationship.

Now I no longer headcanon this because all those stereotypically German characteristics like discipline, systematic-ness, obedience, etc, Germany got from Prussia, so him being chaotic and irresponsible just doesn’t add up, tho the ‘Prussia is the difficult, more outrageous one, and Germany the calmer one’ still stands imo, so it’s not completely gone. It can still stand bc Prussia is just more violent and cares a lot less what ppl thing about him than Germany does.

I used to headcanon their relationship as this beautiful, fuzzy brotherly-love fest, now I see it as close and intense, but with many toxic overtones and uncomfortable struggle for power and control, with a strong vibe of: young needs to replace the old, but the old really is not okay with that and is willing to weaken/hurt the young to remain in power.

I used to pretty much ignore historical facts, like that Germans after the WWII - and even today - having a problem with Prussia and its militaristic culture, because it went against my 'they love each other so much!' mentality and just didn’t FIT, as in that initial interpretation, “Prussia did nothing wrong” so WHY would Germany have a problem with him? It created quite a dissonance for me! Now Germany's anger and bitterns towards Prussia are an important part of their dynamic and their journey as a family and also completely understandable. And they need a whole arc of separating, growing and changing (during the Cold War) to repair the relationship. 

I used to headcanon that Prussia would do anything for Germany, because he loved him more than he loved himself. A good, giving brother who wanted to build him up. Now I see his behavior towards Germany as manipulative and also an attempt to build himself up using Germany. Which is connected to the fact that now I see Prussia as a very selfish person who needs to get over this fatal flaw, not a benevolent older bro who has sometimes an attitude problem, but that’s it.

Physically wise, I used to headcanon him as a slim, well build, but still rather androgynous albino. He was stereotypically pretty and even a bit feminine. Now I headcanon him to be this tall, very well build soldier dude with handsome, but harsh features, think Disney villain style, attractive but def. not pretty or cute. And not albino, tho very much a bleached blond with opal-like eyes.

So yeah, thinking about it from this perspective... so much changed it's crazy! All in all, I used to see him as a person with superficial flaws, like being chaotic and irresponsible, and now he doesn't have those, but he gained some very serious fatal character flaws that shape his actions and relations with others (and legit ruin them). 

Considering how much has changed, wonder where I'll be going with his characterization next XD I mean, at this point it can go anywhere.

Disclaimer: This post was not to glorify one interpretation and discount others, but just to look through my own historical characterization and examine how it changed. Change does not mean it’s better now or used to suck or anything like that! It’s just different and serves a different narrative purpose.

 And tbh I think that’s why my interpretation changed so much - for whatever reason, I have a different narration-needs in this moment of my life, that I used to have. The idea that he and Germany have a bad relationship really bothered me once, and the idea that Pru did something not-okay to Ludwig, and Ludwig is angry, upset me a lot (A LOT!). They loving each other and being super-supportive all the time and only having superficial arguments filled some emotional need of mine, but now it no longer does, which is something that I’m now starting to realize. Not the stuff I wrote about above does - so... yeah :D weird.

This is why I like Hetalia, the characters are so versatile and can be understood in so many ways that you can really make them - and their relationship to each other - change a lot to fulfill whatever emotional needs or specific interest you happen to have now, and later change it.

[ythmir-writes]

Are you still looking for prompts for 182? Ikémen sengoku Hideyoshi + box please~~~~ OMG are you gonna leave us after 182? 😭😭😭

hello hello dear anon! Welp at the time you sent this, I was still looking for prompts but for now it’s closed until I wrap up part 1 (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

and as to your other question, well I can’t say what will happen in the future but for now, rest assured I’m not going anywhere! I love writing too much to stop after 182 and I have too many WIPS and OCs and AUs and a whole bunch of stuff I haven’t done yet (ฅΦωΦ)ฅ 

erratic posting schedule aside, i’m here to stay for a looooong time

so here you go! i hope you enjoy this. it’s super casual and fun!

BOX

fandom: Ikemen Sengokucharacter: Hideyoshi Toyotomi

“Hideyoshi, just please.” Ieyasu groaned. “For the love of everything that you consider holy, stop pacing.”

Hideyoshi waved a hand. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Ieyasu grumbled behind his coffee mug. “Or won’t?”

“Both.” Hideyoshi ran a hand nervously through his hair. “The post office told me it’ll be here by six a.m. And it’s -” Hideyoshi shot a glance at the clock “ - been ten minutes since.”

Ieyasu sighed loudly. Or groaned again. He was not sure. Mornings without having two black coffees first were blurry at best; he was only halfway through his first. That Hideyoshi had been pacing like a panicking chicken around the kitchen island made this morning just a little bit more surreal. Then again, Hideyoshi pacing should not have been a new thing.

“It’ll get here.” Mitsunari said brightly as he slathered what looked like his third slab of peanut butter onto the toast in his hand. Ieyasu shuddered, taking away the peanut butter from him.

“You’ll make yourself sick.”

“What?” Hideyoshi and Mitsunari both asked, turning to him.

Ieyasu grumbled, reflexively shrinking back into his hoodie, unable to take both their attention at the same time. “Ugh. Stop. Please let me have my second coffee before you shine on me.” Mitsunari offered to get him a second cup (Ieyasu declined). Hideyoshi muttered something about heart palpitations before resuming his pacing (Ieyasu ignored).

“Well, isn’t this a chaotic sight.” Mitsuhide appeared by the kitchen door, already looking fresh and prepped for the day, his white hair slicked back to dry.

Ieyasu gestured at Hideyoshi who was peeking at the living room window again. “Package day.”

Mitsuhide raised his brows in understanding. “Well. This country’s postal system has never failed us before.”

“That’s right.” Mitsunari added. “Lord Nobunaga’s packages always reach us.”

“I know. I know.” Hideyoshi stopped in front of them, pointing a finger on his own watch. “But the question is when, when, when.”

“Sooner than you think.” Masamune piped, moving away from the stove and placing the scrambled eggs on the last empty plate. “Now settle down like good children and have breakfast. We can’t keep vigil on Nobunaga’s package on empty stomachs.”

Everyone agreed, save for Hideyoshi who scratched his head; anxious and ready to explode.

As much as Ieyasu wanted to ignore Hideyoshi, their kitchen-island/dining area could fit only six people, and there was no way he could miss Hideyoshi managing to do two more laps around the island before settling down on his usual seat.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He declared.

Ieyasu was about to open his mouth to say that Hideyoshi was not the only one, when all of a sudden the doorbell rang. Hideyoshi shot out of his seat and managed to get to the door in two steps. Not that it was impossible given how tiny their apartment was but the speed still managed to rock Hideyoshi’s chair back. Masamune only barely saved it from hitting the floor.

Mitsuhide chuckled, bringing his mug to his lips. “I just love the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the taste of panic in the morning.”

“Don’t be mean.” Masamune said but there was no reprimand in his voice. “Hideyoshi hasn’t been sleeping well since Nobunaga took that vacation.”

“It was his idea.” Ieyasu said, watching Hideyoshi at the corner of his eye. Hideyoshi peeped through the window, said something incoherent about punctuality and how young ones just cannot be expected to keep time anymore, before yanking open the door.

“Yeah.” Masamune answered. “But Hideyoshi thought he was going to go with him.”

Ieyasu could still remember how Hideyoshi had been on the verge of a breakdown as Nobunaga waved at them before passing through the luggage check-in at the airport. He could also distinctly remember Hideyoshi making Nobunaga promise to send him proof he arrived at his hotel safely.

Nobunaga had agreed. Hideyoshi had looked hopeful. Ieyasu had chosen to ignore the look Nobunaga had given Hideyoshi. He had also chosen to stop himself from asking if Hideyoshi, in his grief, caught that mischievous twinkle in Nobunaga’s eyes.

Twenty four hours into his absence, Nobunaga’s package had arrived: five beautifully crafted store-bought hotel mugs, one for each of them, with their initials stylishly handpainted at the bottom.

Hideyoshi had been beside himself with joy and relief, happily admiring his white mug with a bold green HT, and saying something about Nobunaga’s excellent taste -

Until he opened the envelope that came with the mugs. It contained pictures, mostly selfies. The top of the pile showed that Nobunaga did arrive at his hotel in Germany as he promised. The succeeding pictures also showed that he had begun a spontaneous cross-trekking trip from Europe to Asia using only a popular ride-sharing app.

The last picture was Nobunaga on the side of a road in the middle of what looked like a dense forest. He was smiling his usual gallant smile and he was holding a piece of paper where he wrote the words, “EVERYTHING IS FINE”. A car was behind him, smoking as cars usually did when they hit trees at very high speeds.

How Nobunaga managed to take them all and print them all and then send them to the apartment within twenty-four hours would remain mystery until he arrived.

How they had managed to stop Hideyoshi from going hysterical and following Nobunaga was all thanks to a second package that arrived twenty minutes from the first. It had another picture and a letter specifically telling Hideyoshi not to follow Nobunaga and to wait for him to come back. It also contained a promise that Nobunaga would be sending packages periodically over time. So there should be nothing for them to worry about.

Ieyasu had welcomed the idea of an extended break from their work. Masamune and Mitsuhide had agreed with him. Mitsunari had wondered out loud if they could ask Nobunaga for specific souvenirs. Only Hideyoshi seemed to foam at the mouth. Everyone that was not Mitsuhide tried to console him. And at that time, Ieyasu had somehow felt sorry for him and almost regretted not mentioning that he had a hunch Nobunaga was up to something.

Until Hideyoshi began his ritual pacing whenever it was time for Nobunaga’s package to arrive. Now, Ieyasu was past caring. Nobunaga needed to come back asap to get him sorted out.

“What is it, Hideyoshi?” Mitsuhide asked as Hideyoshi closed the door “What did our lord and master send over this time?”

Ieyasu set down his mug and watched as Hideyoshi carried the box into their kitchen area. It was a bit large, almost three feet tall and five feet across. It had red FRAGILE stickers all over, and somehow Ieyasu had the distinct impression Nobunaga had been given free reign of how much tape went on the box.

“That screams Nobunaga all over, doesn’t it?” Masamune commented, pushing back from the table to stand beside Hideyoshi.

“Did the postman say what’s inside?” Mitsunari asked, wiping excess rice from his chin.

“He didn’t.” Hideyoshi crouched down and placed a hand on top of the box.

“Well? Go on.” Mitsuhide said from where he sat. “Open it.”

HIdeyoshi sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s like, I want to. But I’m afraid of what I’m going to find inside.”

Mitsuhide snorted. Masamune laughed.

“The live seafood was a shocker.” Masamune managed to wheeze. “Even if we did have to move half the living room to fit the aquariums. Tasted good tho.”

“Get it over with.” Ieyasu grumbled even as he got down from his own chair. “Here.” He handed Hideyoshi a pair of scissors. “The sooner you know the sooner we can all calm down.”

Hideyoshi wiped his hand on his nape. “All right.”

It took three whole minutes for Hideyoshi to cut through the packaging tape. He hesitated just short of cutting the box but then sighed and drove the scissors through. He pried it open the rest of the way and revealed a stack of items each wrapped in multi-colored cellophane wrapped around bubble wrap which in turn was wrapped around something. Ieyasu couldn’t see.

“So it wasn’t overkill then.” Masamune kneeled beside Hideyoshi. “These do look breakable.”

“Mason jars.” Mitsunari said from the far end of the table.

Hideyoshi made a noise as he picked up one of the jars and held it to the light. “I can’t see through all the wrapping.”

Never trust Nobunaga with tape. Or any packaging adhesive for that matter. Everything was fragile in his standards.

“Have you tried shaking it?” Mitsuhide asked.

Hideyoshi cast him a suspicious look. “You shake it.”

“Cowards.” Ieyasu sighed, picking one, testing its weight before placing it on the table. “What did the note say?”

“The card that came with said it was for health.”

“Great.” Ieyasu muttered. With the way things are looking, he needed something for all the stress. He began to pick at the wrapping. The cellophane was easy but it only revealed that the bubblewrap was secured by duct tape. Ieyasu sighed, cut through the damn thing, and peeled back Nobunaga’s obvious obsessiveness with packing materials.

The jar contained little multi-colored shapes, no bigger than a dime. Ieyasu turned it over and realized the they formed a rainbow. He quickly turned around to announce this, only to see that Masamune, Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi had all taken their jars and stepped back. And they were beckoning for a clueless Mitsunari to join them. “Seriously?!”

“You have to be honest, Nobunaga’s ideas get wilder each time.” Mitsuhide said in what seemed like everyone’s defense.

Ieyasu opened his mouth and then closed it. He really needed two coffees to be fully functional. “Mason jars could have seriously hurt us if Nobunaga made them burst in our face. They’re not made of tempered glass.”

“He would have bought something safe.” Hideyoshi said in automatic defense.

Mitsuhide raised a brow. “So you’re not against the idea of Nobunaga actually sending us a prank.”

Hideyoshi stiffened.

“Well?” Ieyasu waived an impatient hand. “I got meringue.”

“You what?!”

Masamune barked a laugh, tore at the wrappers, opened the jar, and took a sniff. “They’re technically healthy all right.” He scooped out something small and dark in his hands. “Chocolate balls.”

“Jawbreakers.” Mitsuhide announced.

“Sour tapes.” Mitsunari said.

Hideyoshi clutched his chest. “These aren’t healthy at all!”

“Oh!” Mitsunari clapped his hands. “But these are great when you feel a bit nauseous. It helps keep you levelled. And sugar helps keep you going if you have no food and are really hungry.”

“I have just maybe a very vague idea of what yours could be, Hideyoshi.” Mitsuhide grinned, popping a jawbreaker into his mouth. “Take a guess?”

Hideyoshi swallowed. “It’s that damned thing, isn’t it?”

“Your favorite.” Mitsuhide snickered.

Hideyoshi groaned, asked the heavens why did Nobunaga keep on torturing him, and proceeded to open his jar. The act seemed to take him forever and when he finally cracked open the jar, he let out the longest sigh Ieyasu had heard him have. “Konpeito.” Hideyoshi said in defeat.

“It’s all konpeito.” Mitsunari said as he went through the rest of the mason jars in the box.

Ieyasu was not sure whether he should pat Hideyoshi on the back or join in the laughter. He did not have a taste for sweets either. The meringue almost felt like punishment too.

But first before any consoling can be done, Ieyasu needed second cup of coffee.

-

23/182

[leviplease]

New Year’s Blues

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan

Characters: Annie Leonhart, Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman

Pairing: EreMikaAni

Raiting: General Audiences

Other Tags: Alternate Univers - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Relatonship Study, Character Study

Words:  7552

Summary:

Annie doesn't like New Year's parties — or fireworks — and yet she accompanied Eren and Mikasa to one.

Notes:

I wanted to write MikaAni waking up on New Year's, but then things happened and suddenly I was writing the evening instead and Eren got involved.

Happy New Year!

Read also on AO3

The air is chilly, forcing its way through the thick layers of clothes and making her shiver. Annie is standing at the far end of the driveway between the front door and the half-full beer crate. Her arms are crossed before her chest to make up for where her winter coat is starting to fail her.

She's by herself, unless you count Ymir and Historia a few metres over, past the most popular beverage of the evening. They've been busy making out with each other even before midnight though, so Annie wouldn't consider them company. Not that she minds. She arrived at the place Jean and Armin share with little energy to socialise and it's gone downhill since.

The rest of the party guests has formed small groups lingering on the sidewalk from where they're watching Jean and Armin send up one firework after another. Each one howls as it soars into the sky and then breaks into multiple sparks that form patterns. Annie has given up on looking at them after a minute of being unable to concentrate on any of the shapes. She can see the different colours light up the scene playing out before her.

It's too loud, though. Everything is too loud and bothersome and that doesn't even take into account the firecrackers Reiner and Connie are blowing up on top of it all. They send out bangs that echo between the houses.

Annie wants to go home.

A figure approaches; lean and tall, she makes it out as the shape of Bertholdt. He wishes her a happy new year as he heads for the beer crate and Annie doesn't have the courtesy to return the phrase. But they've known each other since primary school and he's somewhat resistant to her lacking social skills. Annie's stuck between appreciating that he bears with her and lamenting that it's harder to get him to leave her be.

"Sorry about Reiner," Bertholdt makes another attempt to talk to her. "He can go overboard sometimes." The statement is underlined by two firecrackers going off in quick succession. Annie flinches.

"I know. We grew up together."

If Annie had ever anything like a regular group of friends she belonged to, Reiner and Bertholdt were that for her even if she didn't want them to be. While she fell out of touch with the few other people who bothered to hang with her as kids due to going to different middle schools, those two remained her classmates till graduation. As much as she insisted on isolating herself, Reiner managed to drag her along for more things than she's willing to admit. And where Reiner went there was Bertholdt.

It still took forever for them to figure out that they had feelings for each other and if Annie ever contributed anything positive to their lives then it was nudging them in that direction. Or rather she sat them down and forced them to talk about things. Depending on who you ask that was either a necessary ass-kick or an uncalled for headbutt.

Be that as it may, Bertholdt gets the cues that Annie isn't up for a conversation and doesn't insist on luring her out of her shell. With his new beer bottle he returns to standing next to Marco who is the most curious addition to the guest list as far as Annie is concerned. After all he used to be Jean's boyfriend until his family moving away broke them up.

She'd expected some tension or awkwardness between him and Armin but maybe he's just too goodnatured to hold any resentment over his ex having a new boyfriend. Besides, as the former class representative he was so popular in their school time that most of tonight's guests were delighted to see him again. Eren himself asked Marco taking the seat next to him during dinner which Annie had a hard time not frowning at. She had to ascribe it to Eren wanting to be a good friend to Armin and preventing Marco from ending up sitting with Jean at the other end of the table, every other explanation she could think of made her feel weird.

Speaking of Eren, Annie wonders if she should worry about his intake of alcohol tonight, given that he stumbles over his feet when coming her way. It's odd because while he doesn't stay away from alcohol like her, he hasn't developed a heavy drinking habit at parties either. If he's drunk it could mean that something's off.

"There you are!" Despite her former impression, Eren doesn't sound drunk. He doesn't slur his speech or draw out syllables. When he wraps his arms around her shoulders, he seems stable on his feet as well. "I've been looking for you."

Annie leans back her head to get an approximate look at his face. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, I wanted to kiss you for the new year." He pauses and she can only guess that he's trying to scan her face for a reaction. "Can I kiss you?"

A whiff of alcohol assaults her nostrils. Annie turns her head to the side in displeasure. "No."

"Aww, two girls and neither wants to kiss me. What a way to start the year," Eren laments though she can tell he's exaggerating. That Mikasa won't kiss anyone is nothing new to either of them. She tried it in high school and it wasn't her thing. She tried it again a couple of years later and confirmed that it still wasn't her thing. She has other ways to express her affection.

Annie's sympathy for Eren's woes is limited. "Maybe when you don't smell of beer of all things."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that." As much as Eren can whine, he accepts no for an answer. He doesn't argue that a make-out session would be a romantic way to start the new year. Whether he thinks that or not, he knows Annie isn't much for romance. Instead he pulls her closer and she rests her head against his chest.

"Happy New Year," Eren whispers and places a peck on top of her head.

"Happy New Year," Annie sighs, already tired of the phrase.

Warmth is building up between them and for the first time since stepping outside her body stops shivering. She could last like this against the freezing temperatures of the night, however there are still the sounds of the fireworks near and far. It used to be worth it to her to watch the lights explode in the sky as a kid. Then she got into the habit of ignoring the celebration all together until today. She cannot remember how she could ever enjoy it.

"You doin' okay?" Eren asks as if he could read her thoughts. Or maybe he had his suspicions about her retreating to the edge of the spectacle before joining her.

"It's loud," Annie notes in lack of a adequate response. She cannot settle on either a yes or a no. Sure, it could be worse, but that doesn't mean she wants to keep putting up with it. "I want to go home."

Eren rubs his hand over her back. "We said that you can leave early, you know. If Mikasa and I can't find anyone to give us a ride you can still pick us up."

That had been the plan ever since Annie felt reluctant to go while Mikasa and Eren didn't want to leave her home alone on New Year's Eve. She could say that it was fine, but it wasn't for them. When they considered to cancel the invitation of their best friend for her sake, Annie offered this compromise. Still, she feels like a burden even as the keys of Mikasa's car are in her jacket.

"Yeah, and if I fall asleep on the couch just keep calling until I pick up." Annie pulls back and looks up at Eren. His hands slip from her back onto her shoulders.

"And if all else fails we're gonna sleep over here. Armin said it's alright."

"Okay," Annie confirms even though it doesn't seem okay to her that Eren and Mikasa would have to suffer the consequences for her selfishness. "I should let Mikasa know."

"Yeah."

They don't break apart.

"Are you really okay with this?" Annie's rehashing a conversation they had three times, the last one of which was on the ride here.

"Yeah." Eren laughs and she can picture him rolling her eyes at her though there's no indication of it in the dark. He sounds more serious when he adds: "Thanks for coming along."

Annie cannot think of a response to that. She doesn't even shrink away as he leans in, ignoring the smell of alcohol in his breath. It's Eren who remembers her earlier refusal and breaks off before their lips touch.

"Oh right." He lets his head hang as if in defeat over his own mindlessness. "I'll kiss you tomorrow — or at least after I've slept off some of this alcohol."

In moments like this Annie cannot imagine how she ever considered Eren to be one of the most stubborn and head-through-the-wall people she knows. The amount of consideration he's developed for her in the past three years make her impressions of him as a teenager fade into the background like they belong to different person. Until he gets fixated on another idea or insists that he has to open the jar of pickles himself instead of leaving it to Mikasa.

Annie manages a nod as she turns away to head towards Mikasa. From the corner of her eyes she spots him stroll towards Historia and Ymir and she can sense the disaster even before he shouts "Hello, lesbians!" and causes Ymir to groan. There are fewer fireworks lighting up the night sky as Annie walks through the driveway and Connie and Reiner seem to have run out of crackers. She misses Eren's warmth.

Had Eren been as toned down when they stepped outside in anticipation of midnight as he was just now when checking on her, Annie would've stuck to his arm for the entirety of the fireworks show. But he has this habit talking to almost everyone he knows and getting loud and starting arguments with Jean where no one is sure how serious they are — maybe not even them. So she had enough after dinner which was sprinkled with him getting into conversations with people sitting at the other end of the table. Admittedly that wasn't entirely his fault, but he was laxly wrestling with Reiner for fun shortly after they left the house and she preferred to keep her distance.

Instead Annie opted to stay with Mikasa who is a lot more toned down in her interactions with people. The problem with that though was that aside from Sasha they were joined by the one person that became top of Annie's "want to avoid" list the moment she showed up with Marco.

Mina was always a nice girl and for a time the person Annie opted to hang out with the most. However, it overlapped with the beginning of Annie's questioning phase and while it was easy to kiss her a couple of times behind the school or in the privacy of their rooms, Annie shot her down immediately when she suggested they could try to date fore real. Broke Mina's heart, Annie is sure about that and suspects that it was also the reason Mina transferred schools.

Now that Annie is older and slipped into the terror of a relationship only to find out that it doesn't have to be as bad as she imagined, she's unsure how to face Mina. Or rather, she doesn't know how to handle Mina's curious questions. They could be out of genuine interest, but Annie couldn't help but hear a sharp undertone accompanying that sweet smile. That's why she bailed even before the first firecrackers started to go off. She doesn't like the thought of coming back.

Annie ignores Mina's gaze on her as she approaches and takes the place on Mikasa's left. Their arms press against each other but she doesn't dare to lean in further. Something about Mina's eyes following her every move and the fact that neither her nor Mikasa is big on displaying affection in public holds her back. Mikasa acknowledges her presence in silence and since no one else is talking at the moment, she takes the opportunity.

"Once the firework is over, I'm heading home." Annie stands on tiptoes to speak as closely to Mikasa's ear as possible. She doesn't mention that she'd be leaving right away if it wasn't for the streets being occupied with people celebrating by shooting small rockets with powder into the sky.

There's a nod from Mikasa. "Had enough?"

"Yeah."

"Want me to drive you?" It's an offer Mikasa made before, not because it could be more convenient to her, but because she's aware that Annie isn't too fond of taking the wheel. Annie's an alright driver and has opted to be the one to get them home on several occasions simply because she doesn't drink. Preferably she leaves it to Mikasa though who's the most experienced of them and has a pleasant way of handling the car. Eren has a habit of speeding just a bit and neither Annie nor Mikasa like it.

A smile slips onto Annie's lips and she doesn't try to suppress it. "Thanks, I think I'll manage."

And that's that. Annie stops herself from going over the same things she did with Eren. They agreed in advance on how to resolve the situation and she doesn't need anyone to witness more of their personal matters than is necessary. Besides, as the fireworks of their group seem to draw to a close, laughter and voices have grown louder on the street nearby and it startles her.

Annie looks over to find Reiner give a hug to a young man from a group of new arrivals. In the streetlight it's hard to make out who they could be. Besides, Reiner is one of those people who has a lot of friends and acquaintances that she couldn't possibly know them all.

"Is that you, Annie?" What seems to be the only woman of the group has spotted her and is coming her way. Annie has a vague sense of recognition. Their times at primary school are long gone, but she has seen Pieck at Reiner's birthday parties a couple of time.

Pieck puts an arm around Annie's shoulder without asking. Annie freezes up at the overt familiarity she displays. They haven't had much of a conversation since they were kids and yet she is acting like they're friends. The smell of alcohol in her breath might be an indicator of the cause.

"Hey Porco, look! It's Annie!"

Pieck's voice gets the attention of the young man Reiner was hugging earlier. So it was Porco, Annie thinks that it adds up. In her mind these two go together like a couple, though she doesn't even know if they're dating. They just arrive together at every event she has ever encountered them, tonight being no exception. The third person could be either Colt or Porco's older brother Marcel. Annie has seen either of them hang out with the questionable pair, though judging by his hair which seems about as dark as Pieck's she would guess it's Marcel. That leaves just one — a man with beard who seems older than the rest of the group — that she cannot place.

"Oh hey, princess!" Porco shouts back and holds his hand up in greeting. He doesn't come over, however, and instead turns to continue his conversation with Reiner. Annie is thankful it gets her around having to respond and that Pieck's "Don't call her that!" receives only a dismissive hand motion.

Looking at Mikasa gives Annie some distraction from the scene unfolding around her. She doesn't like being the centre of attention and Pieck put her on the spot with a couple of words. She wants to slip away, get rid off Pieck clinging to her without her consent. Mikasa is the only comfort she has around and she'd rather they were somewhere else, alone.

There's a frown on Mikasa's forehead and her eyes seem transfixed on something in Reiner's direction. Annie follows her gaze and notices in passing that Bertholdt has joined the group, laughing while scratching his head with a sheepish expression. He isn't the one holding Mikasa's attention though. From what Annie can tell it's the guy who she cannot place that has remained just a bit behind Marcel and Porco.

Just then he looks over through glasses he must have put on while Annie wasn't paying attention. She averts her gaze. Beside Annie, Mikasa doesn't move, possibly still keeping her eyes trained on the man. In Annie's mind they're having a staring contest though she cannot guess what that would be about.

"How have you been?" Pieck's voice breaks through Annie's wonder and reminds her of her own situation, hogged by the woman as she is. Annie ignores the question, not feeling up for yet another idle chat. Her half-hearted attempt to shrug off Pieck's arm fails.

"I believe that's my part." Mikasa speaking up is unexpected and Annie looks over at her to find she is staring right at Pieck now. If Pieck's expression and "Huh?" are anything to go by, she's just as surprised as Annie. As if in explanation, Mikasa shoves Pieck's arm away and puts her own around Annie's shoulder. She pulls Annie closer who takes the opportunity to lean into her. "I said this is my part."

"Ohh." Pieck raises her eyebrows. "I didn't know she was taken."

"Annie's so taken, sometimes you wouldn't know she's taken at all," Sasha blurts out and chuckles. The gazes she earns are, for the most part, bewildered — except for Annie who tries to pierce her with glaring eyes. She breaks off, the amusement making way for embarrassment. "That...sounded funnier in my head."

Now it's upon Pieck to laugh and Annie dreads the direction this conversation is taking. If she could she would hide in Mikasa's jacket, melt into one of the two people that she feels comfortable touching. Such a luxury isn't available to neither Annie nor anyone else. But there's Eren, squeezing in between Mikasa and Sasha and putting a hand on Mikasa's shoulder.

"Good, you're still here." He leans around Mikasa to look at Annie. "I'm coming, too."

"What? You're leaving already?" The disappointment in Pieck's voice shows in her eyes as she regards Annie.

"Yeah, sorry, whoever you are." Eren shows no interest in being introduced and turns to Mikasa. "You wanna stay?"

The sigh Mikasa lets out is hard to place. She could be disappointed Eren's ditching her as well or close to reaching her own limit soon. "I might as well come with you."

There's a pout on Sasha's face while Mina keeps her thoughts hidden behind a neutral expression. Pieck gives a shrug and says a quick goodbye before walking off. The cold gets through to Annie as Mikasa lets go of her to give Sasha a farewell hug.

"Don't take too long," Eren urges her, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. It could be due to the freezing temperatures, though given how he keeps his interactions uncharacteristically short it comes off like he's on edge. "I want to get out of her quickly."

Mikasa regards him with a frown, but keeps her thoughts to herself. She's harder to read than Eren who has a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. There's something going on between them that Annie isn't in on, however right now his face doesn't give away enough either for her to tell what it is. She catches Mikasa's gaze who responds with a shrug to her unspoken question. So she files it away as something to ask about later and follows Eren who's already headed towards Jean and Armin.

"Sorry, gotta go. Something came up." Eren overwhelms Armin with a hug the moment he reaches the two. If the look of confusion Armin casts Annie is anything to go by he's taken aback by Eren's behaviour. Her hands deep in her pockets Annie pulls up her shoulders to express that she's clueless herself.

As Eren releases Armin he adds a "Thanks for the invitation." that does nothing to clear up the situation. He's skipping any further explanation and Annie can only guess if it's because he doesn't want to say or because he doesn't want to invest the time.

"What's with you taking flight all of a sudden?" Jean questions instead of his boyfriend.

"It's not about you for once."

"Oh, shut up!"

There's a grin on Eren's face as he gives Jean a nudge to the shoulder. Jean returns a light shove. These two have become like that. Even though they've moved past the hostilities from high school, they still dance around being too familiar or friendly with each other. As if they could only mouth off and a hug might poison them.

Annie probably shouldn't judge, because she dodges around this kind of physical contact whenever she can. Though she could argue that she's doing it on principle, not counting Mikasa or Eren she doesn't like touching people. Eren on the other hand is doing just fine giving out hugs as part of his social interactions, so him avoiding it with Jean leans into the territory of ridiculousness.

"You really can sleep on the couch if Annie doesn't want to pick you up." Armin overcomes his speechlessness to remind his friend of his offer as if he's hoping to make Eren reconsider. It reminds Annie that moments ago leaving seemed the furthest thing from Eren's mind and she wonders if they'd be having this conversation if she didn't want to be home by last year.

Eren isn't the type to just bail on his friends even though it would be for the better sometimes. When he gets cranky he ends up starting arguments and it isn't fun for anyone involved. Considering that he stays beyond his good mood if someone doesn't drag him home, Annie feels responsible that he's opting to go now of all times. Another wave of guilt hits her.

The breath escaping from Eren's lips is short of a sigh. It's just the tip of the iceberg, another cue adding to the pile which tells Annie something's up. He steps up next to Armin and wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders.

"You see that guy over there with Reiner, the blond one with glasses?" Eren's voice is low and his hands remain entwined as he points with one index finger somewhere past Annie.

Despite having a good guess who he means, she peeks over her shoulder to see the recent arrivals grouped around Reiner still. As expected, the one Eren indicates is the man she couldn't place. She gets the feeling whatever Eren's issue is with him is also the reason why Mikasa was staring at him earlier. Things aren't adding up yet, but she's collecting the pieces which should form the bigger picture eventually.

Armin gives a quiet nod to confirm that he can make out who Eren means. When Eren continues there's a frown on his forehead. "His presence just caused my night to go downhill and I don't want to drag everyone down with me."

That's new. Annie stops herself from commenting though. Questioning a decision that seems an improvement to Eren's usual behaviour in a situation like this doesn't seem productive to her. She'll take him home with her and Mikasa and hope that it prevents the party from turning sour for the rest of the guests. As sad as Armin seems about Eren's early departure this might save him from a bigger disaster.

"That guy isn't even invited," Jean chimes in. "I can ask him to leave."

The suggestion is the friendliest Annie has seen him be with Eren as far as she can remember. Though it could be that he's doing it for Armin's sake. He does a lot for Armin's sake, like trying to be civil with Eren until Eren is too much of a shit for him to take it. Eren tries, too, but he hasn't stopped teasing Jean and Jean returns the favour rather sooner than later.

"Nah, it's fine." Eren dismisses the offer with a hand motion after he lets go of Armin. Then he pauses when noticing the cast down eyes and thin lips of his friend. "We'll hang out another time. I'll buy you two dinner."

Armin raises his head and looks at Eren. The tension is falling from his face, but he still doesn't look all too happy. Jean takes it upon himself once again to respond in Armin's stead. "Oh really? Like sushi?"

"If you want sushi you can pay for it yourself," Eren snaps, though his tone lacks actual bite. He probably knows just like Annie that Jean is winding him up. Jean's laugh is confirmation enough as he slips his arms around Armin's middle from behind and places a kiss on Armin's cheek.

The display of affection is too much for Annie. Her passiveness makes her more like an outsider in the situation already, she doesn't need to witness Jean cheering up his boyfriend with kisses and cuddles. Watching Eren and Mikasa getting cozy is one thing, because the three of them live together and are by all means involved with each other — though Annie still sometimes wonders how that happened. When it comes to other people, Annie just doesn't want to see it, like she isn't keen on others witnessing her intimate moments with her partners.

Annie turns away to find Mikasa coming over. It seems she finished her rounds to make her farewells, because unlike Annie she has the courtesy to do that. Despite Mikasa not being very expressive about it, she's on friendly terms with more people than one might think. She's better at socialising than Annie in general.

Though Mikasa came foremost to say goodbye to Armin and Jean, Annie is certain, she stops in front of Annie. "Eren hasn't run away with you yet?"

"We're not just gonna ditch you," Annie points out. She doesn't add that she wouldn't have let Eren bail without Mikasa after he instigated Mikasa to call it a night as well.

Mikasa shrugs. It's hard to tell how serious she was about her suggestion. "He seemed in a hurry."

"Not in enough of a hurry to ignore Armin's disappointment."

Something crosses Mikasa's face — a shadow that Annie's mind would colour in something like guilt or regret. She doesn't say anything further, however, and Annie steps aside to let her pass. Annie catches a glimpse of her giving a long hug to Armin and a shorter one to Jean, a habit she's been growing more comfortable with only around the time she started dating Annie. Her words to them don't register with Annie whose gaze wanders off, across the nearby groups in the streetlight.

There's Pieck, entwined with Porco in a passionate make-out session. So they're dating after all, or at least are involved in some way. Behind them Marcel is keeping the cause for Eren's changed mood company as he's having a smoke. A bit further off Reiner finally seems to have remembered who his boyfriend is and is whispering something in Bertholdt's ear. Connie's distracting Sasha by tickling her and Marco who has moved over to them is laughing at the display. Between them stands Mina, staring right at Annie.

A second of eye contact is enough to singe. Annie turns away. Her gaze falls upon Eren's back who is walking off in the other direction. She checks on Mikasa who is putting a hand on Armin's upper arm, sparking a small smile in him. Then Mikasa turns and exchanges a look with her. That's all the cue she needs to get going. She gives a nod to Armin and Jean in passing and Mikasa joins her side as she heads down the road.

Several steps ahead of them, Eren glances over his shoulder. When he spots them he slows his pace and even opts to walk backwards, maybe to keep better track of their progress. The heels of Mikasa's shoes, which make her almost two heads taller than Annie, clatter on the pavement in a rhythmic pattern. As they walk her elbow occasionally rubs against Annie's upper arm. Annie appreciates the closeness.

"Want me to drive?" Mikasa just has to ask for Annie to dig out the keys.

"Please do."

They both know how Annie feels about driving. That's why Mikasa was willing to drive her home despite leaving the keys with her. That's why she hands them back with relief. She doesn't care if Mikasa's primary concern is the car — Mikasa's car which Mikasa paid for — though something tells her that it's not.

Before Annie can put her hand back into the pocket of her coat, Mikasa's fingers slip between hers. She didn't look so she cannot tell how Mikasa managed to put the keys away in time to grab her hand. The cold reaches through to her skin where Mikasa's hold doesn't reach. She doesn't mind the gesture but she wishes she'd brought thicker gloves.

As if reading Annie's mind — or at least the situation — Mikasa guides their entwined fingers into the pocket of her own coat. Appreciating the warmth, Annie rubs her thumb over the back of Mikasa's hand. She leans into Mikasa, because it makes matching the pace and maintaining her balance easier. Also, she likes the touch now that she feels less scrutinised.

They catch up with Eren who falls in line next to them. He doesn't say anything, just walks with his hands shoved into his jacket. Sometimes he skips his steps like a child. In another situation it could be a sign of his good mood, right now Annie ascribes it to impatience. Although the nervous energy coming from him has toned down, it isn't gone yet. He'd probably walk faster if it wasn't for Annie who would have to run to keep up with him at full stride.

Annie watches him, deliberating whether she should pry. If he was willing to share some information with Armin he might indulge her, too. It seems worth a try and should he deflect her question she can always drop the topic.

"So, who's that dude that ruined your night?"

"You mean Zeke?" Mikasa questions before Eren can say anything. Annie glances at her though it wasn't hard to tell she knows more about what's going on.

"If that's the name of the blond guy with the glasses who showed up with my old classmates from primary school."

"He's my half-brother." Eren doesn't offer much but to Annie it's a crucial piece of the puzzle.

She skips her surprise about there being another relative of Eren's besides his father and moves right to asking Mikasa: "And you knew about this?"

Annie isn't offended that there are things in Eren's life she is ignorant about while Mikasa is aware of them. Mikasa lived with Eren's family for about a year after her parents died, that's why she's bound to have more insight. It was the reason why they were reluctant to date for quite a while as they told Annie, because some peers who knew about it referred to them siblings. The entire thing was awkward to unravel and it took Mikasa going out with Annie and Eren also having a crush on her for them to tackle their feelings. A confusing and turbulent time for the three of them.

One and a half years into the relationship and things have settled down and become more comfortable. Through it all, Annie has stuck to her policy not to pry or over-share. She doesn't need to know the details of everyone's lives, she doesn't like to reveal a lot about herself. Even with the people who are her partners she finds it difficult to open up about certain things. They do it in bits and pieces and if it's a sore topic she can say so and they drop it.

"I only know that they aren't on good terms. Don't ask me why exactly though." Mikasa gives a shrug.

Annie isn't going to ask, because she gets how these things are. The only people who talk about their family life in abundance grew up in a happy home. None of the three were blessed with that per se. Annie knows better than to inquire about how Mikasa became an orphan or how Eren's mother died. Neither does she talk about why she broke off contact with her father and hates New Year's Eve in particular. She still cannot imagine how she ever could.

"I'll tell you another time," Eren promises and it's a compromise that Annie doesn't require.

"You don't have to."

"I might want to."

That's not the kind of response Annie would expect, because it hints at an attitude about sharing such personal matters that is so different from her own. She lets it stand without comment. Just in case. Should Eren want to take it back later he can do so without her having trapped him in a commitment. Besides, she doesn't know what to say.

Their short journey through the cold comes to a close. Mikasa parked the car in a small side street where she found a big enough parking space that's easy to get out of, keeping in mind that Annie might be the one driving back. Now Annie gets to slip into the passenger seat while she takes the wheel. Eren stretches out on the backseat and leans his head against the window frame. By the time she turns onto the main road he appears to be asleep.

"How much did he drink?" Annie wonders as she peeks at him over her shoulder. "He didn't seem tired before and now he's passed out like a drunk."

Mikasa casts a look in the rear-view mirror though Annie isn't sure she's able to catch a glimpse of Eren in it. "I don't think it was more than he can handle. But he's Eren."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Wide awake as long as something's going on but as soon as he winds down he can be gone within minutes."

"Oh." Somehow Annie expected the "he's Eren" part to be related to his alcohol intake. Mikasa's right though, he has the ability to fall asleep faster than Annie takes to wake up.

As Mikasa steers the car along the main road she keeps it below the speed limit. There are barely any other drivers around but plenty of people on the sidewalks. Besides, the temperatures are below the freezing mark and alcohol consumption is high on a night like this. Remembering that, Annie is twice as glad she isn't the one driving.

"You didn't enjoy the party much, did you?" Mikasa questions as she stops at a red traffic light.

Annie puts her winter boots up on the dashboard. Mikasa's eyes linger on them but she doesn't comment. "It was alright."

The traffic light switches to green and Mikasa puts the car into first gear. They crawl forward as the silence stretches out, the speedup is gradual. Annie feels like she's on pins and needles when it should be just the seat heater warming her up from below. Her answer wasn't very convincing and Mikasa is onto her.

"Mina was asking a lot of questions," Annie adds to fill the void the unspoken truth leaves between them.

"You don't have to lie for my sake. I'm not so fragile that you not enjoying the party could hurt my feelings."

Annie adjusts the position of her feet. "Too many people, too much noise, not my thing."

"Did you come along for our sake?"

"I came along because you were about to cancel on Armin and imagine how sad he would've been then."

"I just didn't want you to spend another New Year's Eve home alone like last time."

"I usually spend it like that."

The yellow of the passing street lights falls through the windows and wanders across Annie's legs. The street is lined with shops that have their display windows decorated for the season and bars where the people are mingling out front. They seem to belong to another world separate from Annie and her two partners inside the warm car, the distant voices and occasional leftover fireworks almost drowned out by the air flowing past their vehicle and blowing from the heater.

"I wouldn't mind it being just the three of us," Mikasa begins to muse out loud. "We could hole up on the couch and watch TV until we fall asleep."

"Sure, why not." Annie's mind is going quiet as she watches the houses come and go. She's spacing out, taking in her surroundings but growing limited in her responses. Mikasa's words register and yet she doesn't grasp the full extent of what Mikasa is talking about. Her reply is part of an autopilot system which took charge.

"Let's do that next New Year's Eve then. I could cook."

A blink of her eyes and Annie is fully present again. She turns to look at Mikasa on the driver's seat. "You're making plans for next year already?"

Mikasa maintains her focus on the road. Annie's surprise leaves her unfazed. "Yeah, why not?"

"I mean—" Annie pauses and realises she doesn't know how to argue against it. "I don't plan that far ahead."

A smile forms on Mikasa's lips, distorted only a little by the changing light conditions as the car moves forward. "We don't have to set it in stone. Just keep it in mind as an idea for when that time of year is coming around again."

"Okay," Annie says, because that's all that comes to mind.

The inside of the car has become warm enough to make Annie forget what it was like to stand freezing at the edge of a driveway. With a swift motion of her hand, Mikasa turns down the heater to prevent it from going past that comfortable point where you can almost take off your jacket. It's just how Annie likes it.

"We did that when I lived with the Yeagers." Instead of dropping the topic, Mikasa dives into unexpected territory. "A nice dinner, family games, some TV, fireworks, and then it was bedtime for us kids."

What Mikasa describes is something so far removed, Annie cannot grasp it. She tries to remember a time in her life when things were like that. Briefly, before all the bad memories start floating towards the surface and she puts the lid back on and stores them away.

"That sounds nice." Annie's voice holds little conviction.

"It was before Eren's mother died."

Annie inhales sharply. Mothers dying is going too far down memory lane for her liking. "Let's not...continue this."

"Alright." Mikasa goes quiet. Casts a brief look in Annie's direction. Returns her attention to the street again. "Sorry."

The last word is almost lost in the sound of moving air that envelops them. Mikasa doesn't say it often, only when she feels it's warranted. It surprises Annie that she would use it now. They established that one of them bringing up their boundaries isn't reason for the other to drown in guilt. It's so that they know to back off and can avoid crossing the line in the future.

"I hate New Year's Eve. I hate stories about families." This is as much as Annie is willing to share. Her fingers are at her mouth, the middle finger almost slipping between her lips. She stops herself from chewing on her nail.

Mikasa doesn't respond as she takes a left off the main road and into another housing area. Maybe she's trying to think of what to say. Maybe she knows that there are few words that wouldn't bother Annie now. Annie feels bad that she may have alienated Mikasa.

The car winds through the streets of their neighbourhood. Annie recognises the houses and the supermarket they shop in. She cannot wait to be home, to slip out of her layers of clothes and hide beneath the covers. She might even skip brushing her teeth for that.

When Mikasa parks the car in the usual spot and turns off the engine, Annie doesn't jump out however. She waits for Mikasa who remains behind the wheel without even unfastening the seatbelt. Something's hanging between them in the air, unresolved. It would be like running away if she got out now. She doesn't want to feel like she managed to ruin the night for Mikasa at the last minute.

"Do you want to share a bed tonight?" Mikasa doesn't accuse Annie nor invalidate anything Annie said. She just asks this simple question and yet Annie's brain kicks into gear, starts over-thinking. What if she wants to talk or cuddle before sleep? What if she requires emotional labour that Annie cannot give right now?

"I'm tired. I just want to drop into bed and pass out." Honesty is the only thing Annie has. Honesty and the hope that Mikasa will understand this, too, like she has been considerate so many times before.

There's a fear in the pit of her stomach. That Eren and Mikasa keep putting their own needs second for her sake. That somehow she isn't enough, cannot give enough, no matter how much she tries to. Two years and she still feels inadequate, not made for close relationships like this. The fear is there, often buried but sometimes it sparks up like a little flame upon being provided with oxygen.

And then Mikasa manages to say something to douse it. "Pass out next to me and wake up next to me?"

Annie leans back her head and smiles at her own foolishness. Her mind was running wild with ideas and assumptions that don't reflect reality. "I think romance movies have ruined me. I keep suspecting things to get complicated between us when you make it so simple."

"Romance movies are garbage, didn't we already agree on that?" Mikasa unfastens her seatbelt and gets out of the car. Annie follows suit.

"We did, but looks like I still have some of that stuff ingrained in my brain."

"Tell me about it." Mikasa has moved to the back-seat door and opens it. Annie watches as Eren who was leaned against the window dips towards her. She catches him in a time with a hand on his shoulder and moves in to secure him with her torso. "Hey dream prince, time to wake up."

Eren stirs and mumbles something that Annie cannot make out from the other side of the car. Probably about how Mikasa makes up the weirdest pet names for him in the most random situations. It's an ongoing inside joke between the two. Annie doubts Mikasa would keep it up if Eren didn't respond to it by faking disgruntlement or offence most of the time when actually he's somewhere between being bewildered and amused. His reactions make it all the more fun.

With a little help from Mikasa, Eren rolls out of the seat and manages to stand on both feet. He looks like he's sleepwalking, the way he inches forward with heavy legs and almost misses to turn left at the rear of the car. Mikasa has to hurry with locking it up so she can steer him in the right direction. By the time they reach the sidewalk where Annie is waiting he seems conscious enough to not trip over the small rise.

Annie takes the lead down the short path to the front door of the apartment complex. Following her, Mikasa her arm linked with Eren to make sure he doesn't wander off again.

"Are you okay with sleeping alone tonight?"

Eren doesn't wait for his yawn to finish before answering Mikasa's question. "I was already sleeping alone."

"I suppose that's a yes." Mikasa halts Eren's step while Annie unlocks the door without bothering to turn on the light.

The staircase echoes with every movement they make. Annie is able to prevent the doorknob from bumping into the wall, but Eren stumbles over the threshold in the darkness. The light assaults Annie's eyes when Mikasa hits the switch and Eren groans a complaint. Mikasa tries to sush him, but he keeps mumbling about something as they begin their ascent to the fourth floor. Any other night and Annie would feel bad for the noise, but tonight she can hear laughter coming from one of the apartments even before they reach its door on the third floor.

The upside of New Year's is that almost everyone is up late. The downside is that being among the people who don't party all night sucks more than on weekends. Annie just hopes she can fall asleep despite the faint voices coming from below. She sure could use a break. In the morning she wants to wake up next to Mikasa and give Eren that kiss and maybe she can pretend the fireworks never happened.

[ko-fanatic]

Blue Blood Tastes The Same (part 1)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Summary: The smell of "Commoner's" coffee and blood hung in the air, and Haruhi considered her position. She'd never really considered herself as weak before, but now... She was like prey. One day, Tamaki would decide to eat her, and there was nothing she could do about it... Right?Honestly, she doesn't know why he doesn't just get it over with...

Haruhi Fujioka had never met a ghoul. She lived in a fairly comfortable neighbourhood, went to a prestigious school, and didn’t really talk to strangers… or many people, for that matter. She exchanged pleasantries, was civil, and that was about it. She had a goal to reach, and that took precedence over being some sort of socialite. So… Why was she in this sort of situation?

All she wanted to do was find a quiet place to study, the libraries (all four of them) full of chattering students; which meant a lot of wandering around and hoping she could find a room that was both quiet and available for student use. Ouran was a big place, but she had to make her way to the music room she’d heard was “abandoned” in the hopes of saving some of her precious time to study.

If a time machine was ever invented, she was going to go back in time and warn herself. Seriously.

While silent outside, when she opened the door, there was music and chatter, forks and knives scraping against fine china. It looked like some kind of fancy restaurant, some boys going around in suits and aprons, plates and trays balanced effortlessly, and light piano music dancing in the air; courtesy of a blonde boy sitting at a grand piano.

Damn rich people. They could be using this time to study, but here they are. Why did Ouran even have a restaurant up here, anyway?

The music stopped, a discordant note cutting through the atmosphere, and she found a couple of people staring, namely the servers. There was some forced sounding chatter, which was a little jarring in itself, but before she could really think much of it she realised that the young pianist was rushing over towards her.

“Excuse me, sir, but this is a private club,” He explained, stopping a little too close but nothing all that invasive, “You need a membership, I’m afraid; so, I have to ask that you leave. My apologies, but rules are rules. Right, Kyoya?”

A thin, black haired boy peered up from where he was sitting on an over-stuffed, ornate couch, his glasses catching the light. If he didn’t look like he could be blown away by a strong gust of wind, she might’ve been scared; in fact, if she were brutally honest with herself, she did feel some minor, instinctual tugging in her gut, but she ignored it.

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” The boy – Kyoya – nodded, slowly rising from his seat. His uniform was similar to the other waiters – she supposed that was the most apt description – but not as fitted. His waistcoat was loose and awkwardly cinched in at the waist, his thin thighs swallowed by his trousers, which were only really kept up by his belt. It was… alarming, in all honesty; he looked like some sort of high-fashion concept sketch.

“How do you know I don’t have a membership?” She challenged. She didn’t want one, obviously, but more to be difficult. They hadn’t done anything to check and didn’t even know her name – that blond guy was under the impression she was a boy after all, not that she really cared either way. Was it the uniform? It was probably the uniform…

“We make an effort to remember our dear clients in order to form a closer, more personal relationship,” The blond explained with a flourish, Kyoya coming over to join the conversation. She wasn’t that bothered, really; her gaze shifted over the room and its patrons.

It was a nice place with tasteful decorations, like some expensive restaurant out of a movie, and it seemed like they went all out. As expected of students here, she supposed. There were candles and flowers at every table, the servers carrying on as if she weren’t there, despite their initial staring. Meat was popular, it seemed, but she supposed that they could certainly afford it – wait.

The dishes were just meat, no vegetables or side dishes to be seen, and a lot of it looked almost raw. That was enough to put her on edge, even if she thought it was ridiculous; blue meat was supposed to be a delicacy, right? Still, something in her told her to run.

That was when she spotted one girl, sitting on her own, frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth. Nothing was particularly notable about her, accept for something she really couldn’t ignore; on said fork was… an eyeball. A human eyeball, she was sure. It stole the oxygen from her lungs, and she had to dig her heels in to stop herself from taking off in a sprint right then and there.

They were ghouls. If she tried to run, being as slow as she was, they would catch up to her in no time. She could be staring at her murderer right that second, the chipper blond might look somewhat flamboyant, but the tailored waistcoat and shirt basically flaunted the fact her was strong; especially compared to the sickly boy next to him.

“Yeah, fine, I… I’ll go,” She stammered out, and then cursed herself for it. There was a shift in his expression, the cheery smile fading into something darker and a lot toothier, but his eyes. As with all ghouls, his eyes were the thing that scared her the most, black surrounding red and gazing at her like she was his prey.

Because, in that moment, that was exactly what Haruhi Fujioka was.

The worst thing was, they caught the attention of a couple of other servers; two identical boys with ginger hair. They seemed curious, before they broke out into Cheshire cat grins, their eyes turning those same, horrific colours.

Despite how idiotic, how futile, it might have been; she ran.

Her shoes hit the marble floor at such a rate that she actually hurt her feet, and she ran faster than she ever had before. But it was futile. He moved far too fast, and while she just about managed to get down the corridor, it wasn’t enough. He tackled her to the ground, looming over her for a second before taking a deep inhale, the groan sounding too similar to something she didn’t want to think about.

“You smell delicious, human,” He growled, and all she could do was stare into those demonic, glowing eyes as he licked his lips, “There are certain doors you shouldn’t open, you know. If you were a ghoul, you might have enjoyed your stay; now, however, I can’t let you live. Besides… I’m sure you’ll taste heavenly ~”

“Please don’t!” She tried to beg, tears in her eyes as a string of drool dropped from the corner of his mouth and onto her cheek. It was all she could do, scared out of her mind and about to be eaten, “Or… If you do… Please don’t tell dad I ran away. I don’t want him to… To think… Even though he will…”

She was just babbling. Not that she’d be able to talk her way out anyway, being underneath a hungry ghoul, but all she could do was stutter out that one request, screwing her eyes closed and bracing herself for the pain. Hopefully, it’d be quick, but this moment seemed to last a lifetime and… nothing was happening.

She slowly opened her eyes, and a beautiful pair of blue irises greeted her; not the red and black sclera from before. There was something there, some shift in his expression that made him seem almost human, an unidentifiable emotion. It was slow, but unexpected, when he pushed himself to his feet. It didn’t look like he knew what was happening himself, his eyes wide and acting as if he was on autopilot, and he just kept looking at her the whole time – right in the eye.

“Boss?”

The inquiry startled her, and the staring match broke. The two twins stood there, eyes red and black and inhuman, but their faces softer; more questioning than anything else. There was a moment of silence, of deliberation, and the blond spoke low and calm.

“I’m not hungry enough right now, not for a delicacy like it will be…” He stated, still looking a little shell-shocked beneath his calm façade, but the twins didn’t seem to notice the tense, silent atmosphere.

“Well, boss, maybe we should eat her ourselves -?” One purred, only to be cut off by a loud growl.

“IT’S MINE!” The “boss” bit, snarling and baring his teeth, before that cooler air took over. It was quiet again, for a moment or two, before he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. He paused for only a moment before disappearing, just enough to give instructions that were obviously for her, “It will come to the club tomorrow, after school. It will not go home. It will not hide. It will do as it’s told or be torn to pieces.”

She could barely process it over the confusion, not knowing what happened, but the twins merely looked at each other and shrugged. Their eyes returned to their normal – or, not ghoulish – colours, and gave her their own goodbyes.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, human; better do as you’re told!”

A/N: I just want to make it clear. Attitudes and personalities change with AUs, and I want to point this out before I get a million reviews saying they're OOC. Tamaki's thing is going to be explored a little later, don't worry. In fact, everything will. Patience is a virtue, after all...

Also, comments help inspire my productivity, so please go ahead! :)

[ganymedesclock]

I know you don’t really talk about ships, but I was curious as to what you think of Allura x Shay, since it seems to be pretty popular.

I wish I was more optimistic about it, by which I mean... I think taken on its own, Allura and Shay are really cute, they’re sweet people and I think they could get along charmingly.

The part that I worry about is it feels... kind of dismissive? Like... the most popular major Voltron ships that I’ve seen are all male paladins with each other. And being fair 4/6 of the paladins are guys. The dark horse contenders rising to prominence? are male paladins with Lotor.

Conversely, I’ve seen the generals shipped with each other, and I’ve seen Allura shipped with Shay, and I’ve seen Pidge shipped with the one infodesk punk unilu girl that we didn’t even have a name for.

It stands that there’s something of a discrepancy here re: who gets shipped with major characters. And that’s what I mean by it can feel dismissive- it feels like it’s “getting Allura out of the way of” the steamy m/m paladin romance by pairing her off with Shay, who, as much as I adore Shay and would love to be proven wrong by future developments, Shay is kind of a secondary or even tertiary supporting protagonist. She’s a great character, but not too much of a major character.

One of Shay’s major connections to the larger narrative is, at this point, she’s Hunk’s love interest in that the two of them seem to be harboring a small mutual crush. In the comics in particular Hunk actively protests marrying the other two aliens on the grounds that 1. they haven’t met his parents, and 2. “There’s this rock girl...”

And I don’t really... miss that this is a thing when Hunk is a modestly popular ship target that there’s a great deal of enthusiastic “Shay and Allura are lesbians and dating each other” when I don’t know if I’ve seen much... really in-depth art of them.

There’s a couple of ships that seem to read that way- most inter-team Sincline ships that don’t involve Lotor, for example, and I mentioned Pidge with the Unnamed Infodesk Girl- in the sense that they feel like, to coin a phrase out of thin air here, Purely Aesthetic Female Ship. In that you’ll find... artsy pictures or edits of them kissing and maybe once in a blue moon a comic but far more often, total radio silence besides “I can’t ship Allura with anybody else because her heart belongs to Shay.”

I’d love to be wrong. I guess I’m just suspicious that a lot of these ships are super widespread but relatively little is written about them and if anything they often feel nested into other stories/meta as a way to say “And Allura’s not going to be here, she’s going to be off with her girlfriend, so therefore I don’t have to write about her at all.”

Like again- I could be sold on Allura / Shay, but like... actually sell me on it. Don’t just go “oh remember that time on the s2 poster where Allura and Shay were together wearing flower crowns?” show me... how does this relationship develop? What do they mean to each other? Other characters engaging and interacting with this? More speculation and fleshing out of Shay in and of herself because frankly if you date a major character it should make you a major character. If this is happening alongside canon events what does it mean for Shay staying behind on the Balmera and hearing after the blitz, and the trap at Naxzela, how close Allura and the entire coalition came to being completely destroyed?

Explore the Balmerans culturally. Maybe set up parallels with Shay emerging as a leader of her people because frankly the Balmera’s revolution started with Shay, it was her selfless actions to stand up and take that stand and it was in reaction to what happened to her that Rax and the entire rest of the Balmera reacted. But that’s also stressful, the Balmerans don’t appear to have established leader figures here, so imagine Shay going to Allura- the lifelong career princess- who can relate a little about this “I have to learn how to be a diplomat” feeling.

Have Allura and Shay bond over Allura’s developing powers! Allura mentions in s4e6 she’s never been trained and that limits her confidence, and the Balmera was the stage of her first discovering that, as guided by Shay’s own grandmother. Where’s Shay- whose entire people live and die by their connection to the Balmera and its energy- guiding Allura through that?

I mean, with any ship, it’s important to dig into it, the micro and macrocosms of how these people engage with each other, how they feel, what made them feel that way. If this is your ship, if you love it, analyze the shit out of it, take that by the horns. If you’re just sorta here because you like fluff and you think the fluff would be cute with them, make a lot of fluff, show me all the places their lives comfortably intertwine with each other.

Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody point out the idea that shipping Shay in her current role with anybody on Voltron is a terrific setup for a long-distance relationship and all the fun and foibles that entails!

So I guess it’s... I’d absolutely love to be wrong about this but it feels like a lot of major ships between female characters feel really... halfhearted, not much energy to it, while conversely Klance- I’m picking on it since it’s my ship- has eight zillion AUs everywhere under the sun from trapeze artists to vampire-and-priest to high fantasy to “literally reenact the plot of Beauty And The Beast” and people digging into scene-by-scene analyses and hypotheticals with wild abandon, and I don’t feel like that difference is purely because of popularity. 

If anything, it’s suspicious that I can think of four popular male ships off the top of my head within Voltron’s main cast and none of them seem to exhibit that Purely Aesthetic problem that all of the female ships I can think of that I’ve seen in the fandom, ever, do. Just like I think it’s suspicious that whether or not I think Lance’s crush on Allura is unlikely to be reciprocated, it, and Hunk’s crush on Shay that does seem pretty reciprocated, seem to get all-but forgotten and not treated like genuine feelings. 

Like... they don’t have to be your endgame ship, but it feels really jarring to look from canon, with Lance who really does adore Allura, all flirtation aside, and Hunk who again turned down potential suitors because he’s monogamous and more interested in Shay, and to suddenly leap to a fanwork where these people just... feel nothing about each other?

[newcathedrals]

No Rest for the Studious

Title: No Rest for the Studious

Author: finntfa

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Finn/Poe Dameron

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Prompt: could you write a finnpoe one shot where they're in college? I hope you feel better <3

A.N: it’s also a coffee shop au because I can’t help myself. thanks for suggesting :)

“Hey, how can I help you?” Poe asks, forcing a smile before he even turns around. When he does, he’s surprised by the stranger in front of him. First, because of his undeniable attractiveness, and secondly, because of his distressed appearance.

It’s an expression Poe knows well. His brows are furrowed, his lips turn downwards in a worried frown, but the real giveaway is his eyes. His rich brown eyes are glazed over, looking but not seeing. He blinks slowly, his lids closing for a couple of seconds at a time, as if it’s painful to. The skin beneath them is puffy and irritated. Poe winces in sympathy. He’s been there before.

“Can I get, uh…” The man’s eyes scan the menu. “A… 911, please.”

“Coming right up,” Poe responds, “would you like whipped cream on that?”

Another pause. “Sure,” He murmurs.

“Name?” Poe asks. He doesn’t really have to. It’s the night shift, there’s nobody in line besides this man and the only other customer present is a woman sitting in the corner, typing away at her laptop. Still, he can’t help himself.

“Finn,” The man says. He attempts a smile, but it falters quickly.

“Finn,” Poe repeats, “I like that.” He turns around to start making the drink. The 911 is popular with many students during their late night or far too early coffee runs, most likely because of its name. Poe knows from experience that when pulling all nighters, the name of the drink literally translates to a cry for help to the sleep deprived. It’s a cold brew coffee with cream and six shots of espresso. This is the other reason why it’s so popular with students- it’s caffine content is uncontested by any other beverages on the menu.

“Do you go to UCLA?” Poe asks. Finn’s laugh is obviously out of sleep deprivation and not humor, but it makes Poe smile anyways.

“How could you tell?”

“It was the look in your eyes,” Poe says, “and, well, the sweatshirt helped too.”

Finn looks down at himself to see his blue sweatshirt imprinted with UCLA in gold letters. Now he really laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does. Poe wonders how a man can be this beautiful in a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and no sleep for God knows how long. If he’s this good looking in the middle of the night, what does he look like when he’s showered, well rested, and wearing real clothes?

“Here,” He hands Finn his coffee, which he accepts gratefully.

“This might save me.” Finn grabs a straw and pokes it through the lid.

“I hope it does.” Poe smiles. “You know, I’m getting my bachelors in film and television right now. Maybe I’ll see you on campus sometime?”

Finn’s smile is genuine this time. “Thanks, Poe.”

As he walks away, Poe wonders how he knows his name. Had then met before? Then, he looks down.

He’s wearing a name tag. With a sigh, he rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. Maybe he needs some sleep, too.

///

Two days pass, then three. Poe goes to classes during the day and works at night. He can’t help but wonder if whatever Finn had to finish or study for got done. Hopefully it did, and with luck he got some rest afterwards.

As he’s making a ridiculous order for a self important woman, he spots Finn in the line, a couple people behind. It’s early in his shift, much earlier than the first time they met. He hurries to finish her drink, and then the next person’s. Finally, Finn reaches the register.

Poe can’t help but smile. He was right. Finn is even more attractive in a pair of black jeans, a white tee, and a brown leather jacket, as opposed to the sleepwear he’d been wearing before. “Finn,” Poe beams, “how are you?”

“Recovering,” Finn answers with a smile, “I got an A on the test.”

Poe says, “All thanks to my coffee brewing skills, surely.”

“Oh, of course,” Finn replies, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

The woman behind Finn in line rolls her eyes. Poe clears his throat, focusing on work once again. “What can I get you?”

“Just a black tea, please.”

“Room for cream?”

“Yes, thank you,” Finn says, pulling out his wallet to pay. When Poe gives him his change, he puts it in the tip jar. A man after my own heart, Poe thinks. When he writes his name on the cup, he makes sure not to scribble like he does with almost all orders.

“Thanks,” Finn says. As he’s leaving he risks a quick glance back. Their eyes meet for just a second, and Finn does a quick little wave before shuffling out the door.

Poe spends the rest of the night shift in a good mood, asking each customer how they’re doing. The occaisonal ridiculous orders don’t even bother him tonight.

///

The fifth time Finn comes in, Poe has made up his mind. He is going to do something he’d never thought of doing before, but this is a special circumstance. He can’t let the nicest (and most handsome) man he’s ever met slip through his fingers. What if he finds out that the coffee shop around the corner’s coffee is 25 cents cheaper and the same quality? Everything would be ruined.

Despite how sure he is, when Finn steps through the door his confidence falters a bit. He swallows down the fear.

“Finn,” Poe says, “is it a 911 kind of night?”

“Thankfully no,” Finn replies, “I’ll get tea.”

Poe stalls a little by fiddling with the tea bags in the box. Realizing he probably just looks stupid, he rushes to scribble his number on the side of the cup. He practically shoves it into Finn’s hands, who notices the writing immeadiately. The silence must last only seconds, but it feels like an eternity to him.

“Poe?” Finn asks.

“Yeah?” Poe replies, steeling himself for rejection.

“Is this a two, or a seven? Or is it… a three?” Finn taps the first digit of the phone number with a fingernail.

Poe sighs in relief. “It’s a two.”

“Good to know,” Finn replies. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay, yeah, cool,” Poe says. He really needs to learn how to stop talking one of these days. “That’d be nice.”

“Goodnight, Poe,” Finn says as he’s leaving, flashing him a quick smile.

“Night!” Poe calls out, but the door has already closed behind him. He rubs his temples.

“You’re a dork,” He mutters to himself. Still, he can’t stop grinning for the rest of the night.

[sol1056]

the consequences of unexplored implications

One of the hardest things to do in writing (above and beyond all the regular hard things) is recognizing the unexplored implications. Some of these can be more obvious with some simple stats: how many characters are male vs female? how many white characters get speaking parts or are named, vs how many non-white? 

Others take a bit more thought, like realizing the only female characters are unnamed prostitutes, or the only Hispanic characters are janitors. Sometimes it means untangling a well-meaning attempt to subvert a racist trope (ie uncivilized/inferior primitives) that actually ended up unwittingly in a completely different but equally racist trope (ie the noble savage). 

And then there’s a really tricky one to realize, that at least in my experience needs a big-picture view of the entire story. Only then can you see how seemingly independent parts, when overlapped, result in unfortunate implications. 

It’s this last one that I’m starting to twig on, in VLD. And it comes from a combination of a particularly pernicious trope in American media, the canonical relationship between Keith and Shiro, and the purpose of repetition in stories.

the bury your gays trope

Basically, this trope shows up when a story establishes a happy queer relationship, and immediately decides one of the two must die. 

Often, especially in older works (to the extent that they are found in older works, of course), gay characters just aren't allowed happy endings. Even if they do end up having some kind of relationship, at least one half of the couple, often the one who was more aggressive in pursuing a relationship, thus "perverting" the other one, has to die at the end. ... Nowadays, when opinions on sexuality have shifted somewhat, this justification will often be attempted via Too Good for This Sinful Earth. Sometimes it's because the Magical Queer has died in a Heroic Sacrifice so that the straights may live. 

(Also, for some reason, it’s a particular favorite to have one-half of a lesbian couple killed by a stray bullet. Google it.)

Honestly, this trope is so pervasive, it’s damn hard watching popular media. You end up constantly braced for the inevitable death (sometimes followed by the surviving partner going totally evil, a la Willow in BtVS). Well, unless the relationship is toxic or controlling, and then the implication is that het relationships are the only healthy ones, but that’s a slightly different trope. 

In short: if you’re queer, happy endings are not for you. And if you do manage to get a happy ending (ie Bill in Dr Who), you had to suffer ten times as much as anyone else to get there. Compared to het relationships in the same story, it’s always the queer couples that suffer the most. One way or another.

canonical and word-of-god Shiro/Keith

Assumption: Keith and Shiro have an emotional bond much deeper than any couple we’ve seen on-screen. The very least one could say is that they have a deep relationship, albeit presumably platonic. (I should also note that I do consider ‘platonic’ love to be an equal to ‘romantic’ love; it’s just a different type of consummation.) 

Apart from that, there’s word-of-god: the EPs’ comments (ie “beloved mentor”), VA interviews, and various directors/artists posting sheith images with romantic vibes. Yes, that’s all non-canonical, but the message is: if you read this platonic as simply pre-romantic, well, the series’ creators are there with you. 

I will note, I don’t consider this as representation. In canon or it doesn’t count! (Looking at you, Rowling.) Still, word-of-god is clearly impacting the fandom’s interpretations of the relationship.  

using repetition in stories

The try/fail cycle and repetition have a core element in common: an event repeats until the character learns what they need to achieve victory/resolution. The difference is that in try/fail, the character should move up each time. In repetition, the character must re-experience a lesson they failed the first time.

To compare: 

try/fail: the antagonist has a black belt! get white belt, challenge antagonist, fail. okay, green belt! challenge antagonist, fail. next belt!

repetition: the antagonist has a black belt! test for white belt, fail. test for white belt again, fail. test for white belt again... 

When the overall plot’s try/fail is too similar, readers will see the protagonist as too stupid to quit (or change tactics). Repetition works best as a recurring motif: event A, parallel event B, character learns and changes, we have development, and this happens in support of, or alongside, the plot’s try/fail cycle.

Example: if Lance were to flirt with ten different girls and they all shot him down, that’s try/fail. His development is via repetition: it’s a repeating pattern with Allura, until he learns to take a different approach.

Here’s the important thing: like try/fail, repetition is a lesson to be learned. Most readers assume repetition means the previous instances were failures. If the character does the exact same thing and this time it goes beautifully, expect some side-eying from your more astute readers. 

But at the same time, if the character had no control over the outcome in previous instances, expect frustration instead. Readers will intuit the story is indulging in a kind of victim-blaming: the character had no power to ‘do it right’ before, yet the repetition implies that failure was their fault.

And that brings us to how these three parts, combined, make me see some seriously unfortunate implications in VLD.

all three together

So we have sort of this gray-area kinetic-platonic, potential-romantic, relationship. And twice now, one-half of that relationship has been, well, not killed, but sort of killed. Gone, vanished. The other half is left behind, grieving. It’s implied Keith fell apart the first time, and then we got to see it on-screen, the second time. 

It doesn’t actually matter whether S3/S4 Shiro is the ‘real’ one. If he’s not, then we have a third loss. If he is -- but compromised as a tool of the empire -- then it’s still a loss, if a psychological one. He’s there, it’s just not... him, anymore.

In other words, three times that a potential-queer relationship has been put through a Kill Your Gays maneuver that ended up being just a ploy. 

Done once, it could’ve been a subversion of the trope. Aha, the writers could say, we didn’t kill anyone, instead, we brought him back! Yes, one-half of the couple (and later, we find out, both halves) suffered during the separation, but since that’s mostly backstory, it’s all good, they’re happy now. Carry on, Jeeves.

Done twice, the writers not only re-triggered a possible KYG interpretation, they also tripped over the issue of repetition. Remember, the repetition is a lesson -- something must be learned, to prevent its recurrence. 

The problem is removing Shiro leaves Keith to experience the aftermath. By default, he takes the protagonist’s role, and according to the literary convention, he has to learn something to prevent a repeat. But in neither instance -- the Kerberos mission, or Shiro’s disappearance from Black -- does the story give any indication that Keith had a direct impact on the outcome. He did nothing to cause either, therefore there’s nothing he could feasibly do to fix either. 

That makes it especially infuriating that the third time around, one could conceivably say: gee, Keith kept looking, until he found this not-Shiro. If not-Shiro does any damage, that can be traced back to Keith. 

On its own, that could be an interesting dilemma. Taken in light of repetition, not so good. The unfortunate implication is he should’ve learned from the previous two times, and his failure to do so is the reason he ended up here.   

what’s the lesson, then?

Is it: stop caring for this person? Is it: loving someone that much means you have to suffer? Is it: you can’t just be happy? Is it: if you want to try for happiness, you have to earn the right to it? 

How is it that Lance can just flirt, make peace, and develop a deep friendship with Allura -- and neither are forced to undergo repeated trauma in the process? Or that Pidge has just one scene of implied loss, and it’s over and resolved in the same episode? Yet meanwhile Keith -- the only one with a same-sex relationship of significant depth -- has to lose, and lose, and lose? 

Maybe the writers figured: well, it’s not really death, it doesn’t count, let’s go ahead and yank that chain a second and third time. The story is blind to how their plot-twists aren’t all that better. It's still the same old bullshit: if you’re queer, you don’t get the happy ending. And if you do, it can’t be the simple meet-like-love of a het relationship. You’ve got to suffer for it.  

But the story they’ve written, and the choices they’ve made, tell me: these implications are not on their radar. Worse, I end up feeling like they don’t care enough to even put it on their radar.

That’s why it really bothers me when the EPs say they’re pushing for queer representation. Because if the writers can’t even see the implications of doing this to a deeply caring platonic relationship between two people of the same gender, like hell if I want to see what they’d do to an actual, onscreen, queer relationship. 

If you are rising up right now to insist ‘this is what the story demanded!’, I strongly recommend you go read this post: this is a jar full of major characters. Yes, that post is talking about black characters vs white, but it goes for any marginalized group, including lgbtqia.

Bottom line: no story demands anything. You’re the goddamn writer; you control the story. If you write shit, you’re a shitty writer. 

Think harder. Dig deeper. Do better. 

[tellywoodtrash]

Am I the only one who prefers angsty episodes to comedic ones? I feel evil but I'd rather have them battle major problems than this piya nonsense. Also (again evil me) I prefer DBO and IB times than this merger because as a shivika fan (I know kill me now, its almost a crime to like shivika over rikara) I thought they had good SLs when rikara weren't a factor. For eg, this piya track I would prefer to watch shivaay&annika deal alone rather than all 3, I'm sure rikara fans feel the same too(1)

I know you said shivika are preferred by cvs hence they get better SLs, but like I don’t actually care. I watch this for entertainment and it comes from shivika be it writing or chemistry, its not in my place to feel bad for shrenal or rikara and force myself to like them because they are being ill-treated. So as someone who likes shivika, I preferred pre-merger eps, like the forced wedding angst, daksh angst, tia preg angst, mahi drama, pinky drama and finally separation + rekindling (2)

I said it before, rikara fans would be the same. Apologies if this came off rude, i’ve folllowed you for a long time and while it has been disheartening to watch you convert to rikara and your lbs start preferring rikara and mildly getting annoyed by shivika (you are still amused by them but not as before and I think its due to the SLs), I know that’s your choice, I had to rant somewhere. You don’t have to answer this or publish this if you don’t want to (3)

Hey anon, 

I mean, sadomasochist that I am, I love angst too; but too much angst continuously gets very emotionally exhausting. I don’t mind having these kinda ainvayiii ke filler plots every now to lighten up the show every few weeks. After the angst of the Rikara plot two weeks ago, this is a welcome respite with some much needed laughs. The only issue I have is how the TRANSITION between the plots is written, and it seems too abrupt when they switch from heavier plots to the lighter ones. IMO, they should have one or two episodes of transitional fluff, with the characters just bonding and talking about the stuff they’ve been through and couples romancing and shit (maybe a time lapse of a few days), so that there’s a flow, and it doesn’t seem so jarring and abrupt when the next plot starts. 

At this point, idek what the CVs “prefer”, with Gul being all “Shivika alone doesn’t give me numbers” last week, whereas all this time, she was singing a whole other tune and focusing on Shivika. Who the fuck even knows how her and her cronies’ twisted minds come up with rationalizations for the constantly fluctuating TRPS, coz proper research, sensible writing, and actually listening to constructive criticism toh inke bas ke baahar hai. 

As for the Shivika v/s Rikara stuff: that’s just your preference, man. Liking one couple over the other doesn’t isn’t a MORAL judgement. This is just a trash tellywood show with no real world consequences, not a reflection on who you are as a person or anything. You don’t have to justify it to anyone, or even yourself. You like what you like, and that’s that. 

But I’d like that same courtesy and understanding extended to myself as well; coz this “conversion to/preferring Rikara” denunciation feels unfair to me. I’ve never claimed to be in one “camp” of this show; I’ve always watched it as a sum of its parts. If I didn’t watch DBO, it’s because I wasn’t into its bizarre paranormal-cum-drama-on-steroids nature, not because I didn’t like Om (who’s been my favourite character from the start, as you would know since you’ve been following me for a while now) or wasn’t invested in his story. If I stuck through Shivaay’s horribleness during the forced wedding, then sure, I could have weathered Om’s character-massacre too, but DBO was just… too much for me. 

I can only react and blog about what I’m being shown in the show - and currently, this show is writing Shivika HORRIBLY. Shivaay ditching Anika ON THE NIGHT OF THEIR WEDDING and bringing in Tanya as his wife after allllllllll those vows and whatever they’ve been through???? Anika acting weird and clingy about losing Shivaay to “younger” women (as if she’s what, approaching menopause? She’s 30 at most!) one week when he’s never given her the reason to, doing nonsensical “tests” to see if he can be trusted, and the next morning she wakes up with the most unshakable amount of faith in him and telling him to go off on a boy’s trip? During the shaadi ke rituals/Tanya track, they were all over each other and Anika was the one initiating physical intimacy, and now suddenly she’s back to “Shivaaaaay, aap kyaaaa kar rahe hai???” when he so as much as just moves in her direction? Not only are they being written completely ILLOGICALLY, they’re also now being written as a old married couple with no chemistry or heat whatsoever, ala Pinky/Shakti. How am I supposed to fangirl over this?  

Look, I’m just another viewer like the rest of you, albeit with a slightly more popular platform than your own blog perhaps. But this platform became “popular” BECAUSE I’ve always been true to myself and expressed my views about what I’m watching HONESTLY. I’ve fangirled when I felt like it, and called out the shit when I’ve seen it. And I will continue to. That’s the point of this blog; for me to air MY views. And a person is allowed to change their views and opinions. I was not impressed by Gauri at first, and now I love her beyond bits. I used to not like Bhavya, but now I like her. Kal ko, if they start writing RuVya properly (hahahahahaha don’t hold your breath for this) and I like those scenes, then I’ll express that too! What’s this expectation people have of me to be the flagbearer of one fandom over the other (that too, irrespective of the material)? I’ve never claimed to be in any camp, nor have I ever said that I’ll be a completely impartial viewer who will give each couple exactly 33.33% of my love. This blog is just me talking out my ass about how *I* feel on any given day about these characters, and like my mood, it’s subject to lots of internal/external factors; it’s not always going to remain stagnant. Plus, If every single one of this blog’s followers expected me to feel the way THEY felt, and held me to those standards, mera toh jeena kaafi mushkil ho jaana hai, and that’s super unreasonable and unfair to me. 

Toh please, just watch this show and take my mindless rambling w.r.t, with the most halkaaa amount of regard and consideration. At the end of the day, all of this means nothing. Jinko is sab se paisa banaana hai, woh toh banaakar chal diye, hum yahan pe kyun sar khapaate rahein? Yeh toh wohi baat hui, “khaaya peeya kuch nahi, glass toda baraah anna.”  😒😒😒

[bentchcreates]

Start Here, Stories of First Encounters 

Let me just say this right off the bat, I’m giving this 6 of 5 Stars! First of all, the editors and my co-authors deserve the 5.5 of 5 Stars. This is my favorite book this year, cheesy for me to say, but it is! I’m giving a half star more for my own story because I’m very proud of this, okay? :P I’ll talk more about that on a separate blog post, haha.

To begin, I want to thank the editors (and our PM, Hi Mina!) for coming up with this anthology. The intros by Ron and Brij, in itself, were already strong messages to those who are looking for contemporary romance that represents Filipinos of this time, LGBTQIAP or not. It perfectly put out the reasons behind the conception of this anthology, as well as the hope that this sparks a flame towards more Queer Romance and Queer HEA in Philippine Literature.

1. In the Moonlight by Agay Llanera

This was a sweet start to set the tone for the rest of the stories. It’s an awesome sequel to my other favorite, Another Word For Happy. And like what I said in my review for AWFH last year, Caleb seems to have been made after my own heart.

I wish I was exaggerating, but the indecision, the awkward reaction to ‘the kiss’, the hyperawareness to the smallest of things, IT ME! When I was Caleb’s age, at least. LOL. And I’m sure a lot of gay people (maybe not even gay people, everyone, really) will find it relatable one way or another.

What Caleb is better than me, though, is his courage towards the end of the story. He did something I never would’ve been able to do. And I hope when others read this, they’d be inspired to be braver, too.

2. Come Full Circle by Bobbi Moran

I love me some slow burn romance and huhu, the slow burn in this one killed me (in a good way!).

This short felt quite episodic as the characters are shown through different stages of them finding themselves – and eventually, love – but that slow progression allowed me to really root for them to be together at the end.

I found the attention to detail fascinating (especially the architectural ones when Alana and Marion went on a holiday) but what I loved most about this is the accuracy of tiptoeing in a relationship when one is still unsure where the other one stands. I mean, relationships are already complicated without the whole guessing-and-hoping-the-other-one-plays-on-the-same-team narrative, but add in sexual confusion (and tension!) and you’re in for a wild, but nonetheless more interesting, ride. This story tied to a full circle satisfyingly.

3. Gorgeous by Motsie Dapul

This is probably my first F/enby romance and it certainly lived up to its title. This might also be the first fiction story I’ve read using the singular they/them pronoun and while it took me about a minute to re calibrate my [faulty] sense of grammar, it wasn’t jarring and it told Jays and the MC (I’m not 100% sure she was named, I need to reread the story, stat!)more genuinely for me.

It is also somewhat a variation of the enemies to lovers trope which is always interesting. I’m happy to note that there is grovel. :) 

I think what I want to focus more about this story is how something that happened years ago, something that seemed small and irrelevant to you, might mean a whole different world to another person. And simple things like words said haplessly, or actions that weren’t well thought of in our youth, could still impact us as adults no matter how much we’ve changed in the time in between.

This story tells and awesome story of discovering one’s self, discovery of love, and acceptance of the MC’s past, present and future with Them. :)

4. Shipping Included by Danice Sison

Can this be any cuter?? <3 <3 <3

I will admit that I didn’t get all the KPop references but I know those who are knowledgeable (and obsessed) with oppas will appreciate and enjoy this.

Done in alternating POVs between the protagonists, David and Kiko, the story’s strength lay on the well-rounded characterization of the heroes, as well as the kids who made their meetcute extra cute! There is a glimpse of what it must be like to be a Filipino KPop fan while also focusing the spotlight on those who don’t share the dedication but support their loved one’s hobbies nonetheless.

The Kuya and Tito may not be in their girls’ fandoms but Kpopocalypse gave them (all of us, really) a different reason to swoon and make fingerhearts at each other.  

5. Delubyo by Barbie Barbieto

This is beautifully written.

This was the first work from the author that I’ve read and I loved it so much, it made me seek out her other work. Haha. The style and flow of words are smooth and easygoing, it hooked me up real quick.

Add to that is Pebbles’ odd four-month relationship rule which I thought was mean at first, but actually makes so much sense and is understandable from someone who’s constantly afraid to put her heart on the line. Still, I don’t tolerate it. (I loved this so much, I’m super invested and I want to have a talk with Pebbles bec huhu, the poor ex-girlfriends! LOL)

I love the progression of her feelings towards Gabrielle, told brilliantly somewhere in the middle of the story – after that awesome beginning! It made the ending such a relief and a source of immense kilig!

6. The Other Story by H. Bentham

*sly grin emoji*

7. Blooms and Hues by Ella Banta

I loved the softness of the themes in this short story, reminiscent of Gay YA fiction I used to devour in college (from foreign authors like Brian Sloan, Alex Sanchez, John Hall, etc.) and the short films I still find on YouTube from time to time.

It is a lovely addition to this anthology, despite not being heavy on the romance like the other stories, especially since being queer in this country, love, relationships - and matters of the heart in general - are less likely to be this soft and dreamy. (At least during my time as an actual young adult. IDK, maybe kids these days are allowed this gay tenderness we weren’t given access to. It wasn’t even such a long time ago, I mean…anyway, that’s not what this review is all about. I got distracted. lol)

The artistic MC and LI are adorable. And flowers! I’m never not in love with stories where flowers come into play.

8. Another First by Yeyet Soriano

I admit that I felt scared to continue with this once it was established that Jess, the MC, is in a long term relationship at the beginning of the story. I dislike scenes with messy break-ups due to cheating, but I soldiered on and was greatly relieved that this didn’t go that way.

I liked that the characters acted like the adults that they are and that this did not turn into a rehash of popular love-triangle telenovela plots. I especially loved the part where things had to settle down and fall into place for all characters (Jess, Lili and even Matt) separately at first – on a personal level – before the romance could be resolved. It showed a healthy depiction of self-discovery and acceptance a little bit later in life.

9. Luck from the Skies by Katt Briones

This one I’ve actually read before the book came out and ugh, rereading it second, third and fourth time did not make it less wonderful! The characters have supporting roles from Katt’s other book, Chasing Mr. Prefect, but the timeline here is before that book’s time.

I liked the fictional artista/modeling angles and the progression of friendship between Chan and Asher towards a romantic ship (#ChaSher5everr!!!). The rainy weather theme is also very Filipino and how it plays in the advancement of the plot is just brilliant! And kilig! So kilig!

Sab is defineitely a scene stealer (I love bestfriends!) but since the romance was so strong in the first place, she didn’t overshadow my boys. LOL.

Also, prepare to crave bulalo!  

10. Lemon Drop Friday by Brigitte Bautista.

“Here goes [Brij] again, making a mess [with my heart]”

When I was reading the review copy and got to this point in the book, I stopped for a full day before I started this story. Part of me knew I would breeze through it and I didn’t want the book to end just yet. And I was right.

Brij did it again! Made me fall in love with her mastery of words and then made me cry because this was so good and so satisfying.

I was highlighting passages throughout the book (for review notes) but with this one, I couldn’t even stop to highlight words, I just wanted to fully immerse in that universe and feel the love, and the fear of rejection, and the ultimate HEA where these messy girls finally, finally got together!

I have a favorite quote (aside from the mis-quote above. Lol)

“If she looked at me a tad longer, she would figure it out.”

Argh! MY HEART! I loved Tala’s POV so much! It’s quirky and funny and honest and SO relatable. I’m done talking about this because I WILL SPOIL IT FOR EVERYONE so please get the book and read it! :P

To end, again I want to thank everyone who worked (and continue to work hard to promote) this book! I cannot fully express into words how important this is to me, as well as to others who might need these stories in their lives (whether they know it or not). I hold this dear this not because it is among the first queer books from #romanceclass, but more because all were written with wonderful skill and heart. Each story offers something unique for the reader who might be reading queer for the first time as well as someone looking for themselves in the written page,

We yearned so much to be represented well. We craved for stories we can connect to on a deeply personal level. We waited for our happy endings, in fiction at the very least.. This is definitely the beginning of us getting all that. And more.

Blurb:

There’s a first time for everything. Gatecrashing a KPop concert with an oppa in a business suit. Taking shelter from the storm with the girl you’ve been meaning to shake off. That kiss that blurs the line between friendship and something more. A one-night stand (or, is it?) with your best friend from across the hallway.

Dive into these 10 stories of first encounters – unapologetically queer, happy endings required, with a smattering of that signature #romanceclass kilig. Whether you’re recalling your own firsts or out there looking for one, there’s a story in here for you.

So, go on.

Turn the page.

Start here.

Edited by Ronald S. Lim and Brigitte Bautista. Featuring short stories by Agay Llanera, H. Bentham, Ella Banta, Danice Sison, Yeyet Soriano, Barbie Barbieto, Katt Briones, Bobbi Moran, Motzie Dapul, and Brigitte Bautista. This anthology contains M/M, F/F, F/NB romance stories with happy endings. Some stories have a high heat level.

Release Date: January 27, 2018

Book Cover Design: Dani Hernandez

Additional Photography: Alexandra Urrea & Chachic Fernandez

Buy Links:

Pre-order Start Here on Amazon: bit.ly/rcStartHere Order Start Here on paperback (PH only): bit.ly/StartHere-PrintPH

Add Start Here on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37880247-start-here

Author links:

Katt Briones: @kttbri (Twitter& IG)

Ella Banta:  @gabbie_ellaine (Twitter) , @ellamaepot (IG),  gabrielluna.wordpress.com (blog) , https:// www.facebook.com/ ellabantawriting/ (FB)

Agay Llanera:  http:// amzn.to/ 2k2gj34.(Amazon)

Yeyet Soriano: @ysrealm (Twitter & IG) @Yeyetsorianowrites (FB), www.yeyetsoriano.com (blog), yeyetms@gmail.com

Danice Sison: @hastyteenflick (Twitter)

Bobbi Moran: bobbimoran26@gmail.com

Motzie Dapul: FB.com/atemozzarella, FB.com/atemozzarellastories, @atemozzarella (Tumblr) , mozzarellastories.wordpress.com (blog), motzie.dapul@ gmail.com.

Barbie Barbieto: @barbiebarbieto (Twitter),  barbiebarbieto.com (blog) 

H. Bentham: this is me. heh.

Editors: 

Brigitte Bautista: @brijbautista (Twitter & IG), brijbautista.wordpress.com (blog)

Ronald S. Lim: @tristantrakand (Twitter), ronlim20@gmail.com

[animeride-blog]

The Reason Why Future Trunks Arc Is the Best Of DBS ! https://animeride.com/blogs/7173/the-reason-why-future-trunks-arc-is-the-best-of-dbs/ #FutureTimeLine, #FutureTrunks, #Goku, #Mai, #SSJBlue, #Vegeta, #Zamasu

New Post has been published on https://animeride.com/blogs/7173/the-reason-why-future-trunks-arc-is-the-best-of-dbs/

The Reason Why Future Trunks Arc Is the Best Of DBS !

  Hey guys Today let’s about the various arcs in Super so far and which one we believe is the best.

  A darker arc

Previously in Super there was a distinct lack of real tension, the Battle of Gods arc lost it when Beerus began to school Goku during their fight, the Resurrection of F arc lost all tension once Goku and Vegeta returned to Earth and the Universe 6 Tournament arc didn’t have any real stakes. The Goku Black arc by comparison took a completely different tone, the very first episode in which we see Future Trunks hounded by an unknown villain, desperation setting in he is forced to return to the past to seek aid from Goku and Vegeta. Even returning to the past is made difficult and he is only able to retreat with Future Bulma sacrificing herself to stall for time.

Everytime the heroes engaged Goku Black and Zamasu they are left beaten and bruised. It does truly seem hopeless until they are finally able to overcome the pair in the last encounter. Vegeta is stabbed through the chest during his first encounter, Goku is stabbed on numerous occasions and Trunks continuously takes a battering from Goku Black. The villains however seem to take no damage at all, Zamasu is proven to be immortal and even is able to free himself from a Mafuba (the jar wasn’t sealed) and Goku Black grows in power incredibly quickly.

This all culminates in an arc which seems hopeless, death is everywhere with only a handful of survivors and everywhere there is destruction. The heroes are continuously defeated and try anything and everything to defeat Goku Black and Zamasu although nothing seemed to work. The mafuba failed and although Vegito Blue was strong enough to overcome Merged Zamasu the fusion couldn’t sustain them for long enough and so Vegito also failed.

The best villain

For an arc to succeed it must have a strong antagonist whom the audience despises, one which they truly want to see meet their end. The arcs beforehand in Super fail to give this to us yet this arc gives us one of the best villains in all of Dragonball, Goku Black or Zamasu as a character in general. I’ll address both separately and together although I’ve made a blog about why he is the greatest villain which you can check here.

If we first look at Goku Black we think of an evil Goku, which the fandom has wanted for many years (Turles is a movie villain folks and we really don’t see him much). Goku Black surprised everyone when he transformed into Super Saiyan Rose. This transformation is different to SSB because Goku Black was already a god, thanks to being Zamasu, giving some incredible aesthetics as well as some unique powers. The ki blade returns and is well utilised to Goku Black and later turns it into a scythe which is very unique! As he is part Saiyan, Goku Black loves to battle, to test his power and to get stronger. He often seems excited with the prospect of a fight and to see what limits to his power there are.

Zamasu always questioned the existence of mortals and their purpose in the universe. Afer witnessing the power of Goku he decides once and for all that mortals are inferior creatures who should not exist. In fact Zamasu takes it upon himself as his divine duty to rid the universe of these mortals and in doing so, would create a divine utopia. Zamasu as a character is very interesting, not only does he have a strong god complex but he makes us question our own morality and religions.

The pair together are able to get under our skin more than anyone else has been able to in Super. Both Goku Black and Zamasu feel incredibly superior, are arrogant because of it and they genuinely believe in the Zero Mortals Plan, that it would benefit the universe. We as the audience easily take the side of the heroes, during each battle we desperately want the antagonists to fall and they continuously laugh at us. But this is what we want in a good antagonist, villains are supposed to do this to us, we’re supposed to thirst for their demise and when we get it it becomes much more satisfying.

The return of fan favourites

Part of the success of the Goku Black arc was the return of two of Dragonball’s most popular characters, Future Trunks and Vegito. This of course drew long term fans of Dragonball who were big fans of these two characters and may have fallen out of touch. Learning of the return of Future Trunks and Vegito they may well have come back to the show. This happened once before, with the return of Frieza in the Ressurrection of F arc. Say what you will about the arc itself, it certainly drew in a lot of viewers because Frieza had returned.

Future Trunks had last been seen at the end of the Cell saga in which he said his goodbyes and left for the future. Fans since had wondered just what had become of him and the future timeline in general, wanting to spend more time in the future timeline. Trunks had become immensely popular with the fandom since his introduction, turning into a Super Saiyan and cutting up Frieza with ease. Because of all of this the return of Trunks and an entire arc set in his timeline was warmly received, as was his new form Super Saiyan Ikari (anger) which if you ask me looks badass!

Vegito’s fight with Buuhan left a lasting impression amongst fans, he had easily overpowered the strongest villain in Dragonball Z and although he diffused fans wondered just how powerful was Vegito? Could he had stopped Beerus and most importantly, would we ever see him again? Well yes we would, and we’d see him transform into SSB and although the fusion could only last 5 minutes we were rewarded with all the fan favourites including the Spirit Sword and the Final Kamehameha. Vegito couldn’t get the job done because of the fusion time limits but he was stronger than Merged Zamasu and would have defeated him if the retcon hadn’t been introduced.

Some of the best execution of music/animation

The combination of all these previous points along with a fantastic musical score and some of the best animation to date (think of episode 66) truly makes this arc so great. The musical score truly captures the tension, the darkness and the desperation of the arc. The heroes are pushed, overwhelmed and defeat seems inevitable, the score makes viewing this much more cinematic and I found myself getting into the action more and more because of changes of tone.

  Although great animation isn’t essential to a good arc, it truly does add the cherry on top of the cake. The fight between Vegito and Merged Zamasu was beautifully animated, fast paced and full of ki beams and attacks. Viewing this arc was a pleasure and I thoroughly recommend you to re-watch it. It wasn’t just the characters though but the ruined city landscape and the dark green and grey skyline truly adds depth and a level of detail which truly takes it above and beyond what came before.

Although this can be seen elsewhere I would like to mention that I love the auras of the God transformations and SSB, SSR and even SSI looks absolutely fantastic in this arc, shimmering almost and everflowing. We had seen SSB before by SSR and SSI were brand new and I loved how they looked. The change from dark blue to a dark pink on SSR really stood out in such an aesthetically dark arc and Ikari looked like SSJ with hints of blue surrounding Trunks, whipping around him as if it was melting off his body into the SSJ aura.

Of course no arc is perfect and the Goku Black arc does have its flaws. Pacing towards the end was an issue and the end itself seemed either rushed, an asspull or the writers had run out of ideas as they had trapped themselves in a corner. I loved the fact that Trunks was able to defeat Merged Zamasu, at least the physical form of Zamasu. I do strongly believe that the good far outweighs the negatives though and this arc is the best we’ve seen so far.

( This Gif looks disturbing though ) But what do you guys think? Do you prefer another arc or do you agree with me that the Goku Black arc is the best in Super so far? Let me know in the comments and as always. Have a Nice Day !

[itsakyo]

Taeyeon has been called an idol born to be a star sometimes. Do you think she was born to be a star? Why?

If you think about it, the phrase “XXX was born to be a star” has multiple layers of meaning. XXX would have to be a person who embodies all the necessary qualities a top star would require. Some of these qualities are unable to be nurtured/trained, meaning you have to be born with it, while some qualities can be trained or acquired through hard work/practice.

1. Appearance. We all know about plastic surgery and its powers. Even minor things like wearing braces to adjust your teeth, doing laser to clear blemishes/freckles on your face, or injections to tighten your skin and maintain a youthful appearance etc all play a part. But no matter how much you do to your face, the “basic structure” is there at birth. Meaning, your starting canvas (face) is fixed by birth. Like how some people naturally look pissed off until they smile but are actually super friendly and kind at heart, or how some people look friendly when they’re actually not.

Some people just naturally have more appealing looks to more people. I am not talking about individual preferences cos I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I am referring to looks that appeal to the MASSES, whereby MANY/TONS of people agree that this person looks appealing/attractive. Now this is one element of the X-factor. And you have to be born with it, more or less, cos everyone looks different from each other and there is a limit to how much PS/aesthetic procedures can change your appearance.

So from the get go, lots of people like the way Taeyeon looks. Whether it’s something in her eyes (soulful? charming?) or whether it’s the way all her features come together to form her face, the impression many people get is positive and they feel attracted to her.

2. Talent. Singing technique is trained. Vocal range can be expanded with training as well. Singing expression can be nurtured too.

But most critically, the one thing that can’t be trained/nurtured is the timbre/tone/shape/colour of the voice. You have to be born with it. The only way you can change your voice is by changing your hormones, which is why your voice changes as you go through puberty and various stages of life wherein hormonal changes occur. Otherwise, your voice is your voice. You can’t PS it to make it sound more appealing to people. Some people naturally have a DJ-quality voice. Some people’s voices are naturally sharp and more jarring on the ears to listen to. You get my point.

On top of that, style and expression in singing is also a highly personal musical taste/choice, unique to each singer. Some are able to move you to tears, while some are unable to convey much emotions.

Taeyeon’s voice can work magic on many/tons people. Enough people to make her a very popular singer. Again, I’m not saying 100% of everyone will like her voice but I’m saying a big enough mass of people are attracted by her voice such that they will listen to her songs and buy her music.

3. Personality. I’m sure many of you will agree with me, that personality, while it is shaped by family, friends, life experiences, the environment you live/grow up in etc, is something you can’t change easily. Unless you’re putting on a show/pretense 24/7 (which is extremely difficult to keep up without slipping up one day) your personality is something that is truly yours and yours alone.

Personality also isn’t something you can fix or change overnight. Neither is there a fixed set of personality that will guarantee you instant popularity and stardom. Not every friendly, kind and warm person will successfully earn a huge fandom and massive popularity. And not every popular idol is outgoing and hyper.

Some personality types might make it easier for a person to succeed as an idol/artiste but as we can see, all the successful idols out there have different personalities so there is no way of knowing beforehand if an idol/artiste will be able to be massively popular simply by analyzing their personality alone.

4. Fate. Given a person has the personality to appeal to lots of people, possesses great looks that attract heaps of people and has awesome talent in their chosen field of entertainment (voice/dance/acting etc). There are “perfect” artistes like that who are simply not popular enough and for some reason, are unable to gain a big enough fandom/popularity to be considered a top star, maybe B or C-list at best.

This is when you will find some people saying “this XXX is so underrated. great looks great talent great everything but why isn’t XXX as popular as ZZZ? And YYY isn’t even half as talented as XXX but YYY is way more popular than XXX”

The explanation for this would be put down to one of the most important factors - FATE. Sometimes, things are just meant to be.

SNSD without GEE would not have been the SNSD now. SNSD could just as easily have been just an ordinary girl group with a decent fandom that is nowhere as huge as the SNSD that we know today.

Think about Gangnam Style. PSY had been doing that style of music for such a long time and it definitely isn’t the first time he did a wacky dance but Gangnam Style went viral and PSY was propelled to massive popularity without him doing anything different with the intent to go globally viral. He was just doing what he does.

There are tons more examples of this and what it demonstrates is how little control idols have when it comes to MASSIVE popularity. Not to discount the effort they put in. The company tries hard. The idols all work hard and try hard and do everything they can to succeed and climb to the top. It is a given for them to be well-prepared for any opportunity that comes along. That will most probably lead them to somewhere in the middle of the pack - the average or above average.

But for something special enough to happen and help you to emerge from the pack and stay on top, you do need some lady luck smiling on you.

I remember Taeyeon saying in her PERSONA concert (not her exact words but the gist of it): “Thank you. There are so many (other great?) singers out there, but you chose me, so thank you.” She captured the essence of it in that line.

So is Taeyeon born to be a star? I think Taeyeon has qualified for all of the above. And therefore, in those aspects, is indeed born to be a star.

[vilevenom]

Part 3! I won’t lie, I fully expected this to be a short ass fic, but then it sort of spiraled out of my control. Fandom: Mystery Skulls Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4 Vampire!Arthur

Arthur sighed as he stepped out of the shower, hair dripping on his shoulders. He’d completely forgotten about the bandages on his shoulder in his haste to get under the water and away from the mirror, and now they were soaked through and needed to be changed. Mind, he couldn’t do it himself so he’d only have to pester Lewis and Vivi further than he already had by getting one of them to help him with that, given that the fine motor functions of his prosthetic were still shot. He scowled as he haphazardly pulled his sweat pants back on, turning to glance at himself in the mirror once more. He looked even more bedraggled with his hair drooping around his face and his hospital bandages peeling at the edges were the tape no longer held from moisture. He paused for a moment, though, a sudden thought striking him. Hadn’t the vampire also dug into his sides? The memories were blurry at best, really, but he could vaguely recall the sensation of his stomach being torn into. He took a short step back to get a better view of himself in the mirror, examining his torso to see what damage had been left behind, only to find the barest hints of jagged scarring just below his ribs. Quickly, and mindless of the fact that it wasn’t functioning properly quite yet, Arthur reattached his prosthetic, hissing mildly as the nerves reconnected, before scrambling to peel off the ruined bandages. He gaped as he let them hit the floor with a soft squelching sound, lifting his hand shakily to touch his neck and shoulder, no evidence of his attack being left but a spiderweb of light marks were his skin knit itself back together. Arthur twisted and turned as he stared in the mirror, but if someone didn’t know he had been in the hospital, they never would be able to tell. It was almost as though two nights previous had never even happened. A sudden rapping on the bathroom door startled him out of his shell-shocked staring, causing a slight growl to leave his throat as he jerked away from the sound. He clamped his hand over his mouth directly after the sound left him, a quiet whine leaving him instead. Another, more insistent rap came, followed by Vivi’s voice asking him to come out, making Arthur straighten his spine and clear his throat. “Just a sec,” he called back, shooting one last glance at the mirror, eyeing the nearly completely healed wounds and tiny sparks that jumped from his prosthetic as it twitched slightly at his side. He looked a mess, but it wouldn’t be the first time Vivi saw him out of sorts. He hadn’t really been expecting Vivi, Lewis, and Mystery to be huddled outside the door, though. “Uh...hi,” he said simply, pursing his lips as the three did little but stare at him, “You-you knocked?” “Right! Sorry, Artie, just-your shoulder,” Vivi murmured, gesturing vaguely at his scars. “Yeah, I, I-uhm, was noticing that, too,” Arthur replied, shrugging slightly and shrinking into himself a little, “Did you guys need something? I was going to go work on my arm,” he added, lifting his prosthetic in short, jerky movements. “Sorry for staring, Arthur,” Lewis apologized, looking contrite, “We knew you were healing faster, that was just unexpected.” “You’re telling me,” Arthur snorted, before looking slightly bashful as Mystery nudged at his legs and shooting him a short glare, “Anyway, but really, what’s up?” “Oh! Yes, right,” Vivi suddenly sprung into action, thrusting a rather thick book forward into Arthur’s line of sight, open to a page with a rather graphic depiction of a demon eating a person in black and red ink and a massive sprawl of text next to it, “Mystery found this!” Arthur continued to stare down the book for a moment, his eyes skimming over the tiny text, a light frown on his face. “Uh, can I get the abridged version?” “You’re not a vampire yet,” Lewis stated, tiny smile on his face as both Vivi and Mystery took deep breaths, obviously amping up to bombard Arthur with information. “The vampire that bit you didn’t kill you or feed anything to you, so the turning ritual wasn’t completed.” “Way to steal my thunder, Lewlew,” Vivi pouted, snapping the book closed and tucking it under her arm. “I figured a more concise version would be best,” Lewis chuckled, “But, regardless. We’ve already found a couple tracking spells we can try to find the vampire that bit you. It’s got a couple days on us, but with some supernatural help, we should be able to find it.” “And once we do...?” Arthur asked, absently grabbing at his prosthetic. Nervous habits were hard to kick. “Well,” Mystery stepped in,this time cutting Lewis off, “then it’s simply a matter of a decapitation and a stake through the heart. Contrary to popular culture, any type of stake will do, as long as the heart is pierced.” “Decapitation?” Arthur wheezed, his hand instinctively going to his neck. “It’s the best way to ensure the vampire can’t regenerate while we stake it. I know Buffy makes it seem like it’s really easy to do so, but a sternum is rather difficult to stab. It’s going to take some force,” Mystery stated bluntly. “So, what we’re trying to say, Artie,” Vivi piped up, grinning widely at Arthur, “There’s a cure! So to speak...I know you, and that you’re probably letting your brain go to all sorts of terrible places, so you need to know that none of those things are going to happen. We’re going to track that thing down and kill it, and everything can go back to normal.” Arthur glanced at Lewis, who offered a small smile of encouragement and a nod, before he looked back to Vivi and gave a slow nod. “Okay.” ~ Vivi had made the spell sound a whole lot easier than it really was, given some of the ingredients it required. “Don’t...move,” Arthur gasped, wobbling a little as he was held in the air by Lewis, tiny jar in his hand as he eyed the spider resting obliviously in its web. “I’m trying, Arthur,” Lewis grumbled, doing his best not to shudder at how close they were to the arachnid. In reality it probably would have been ten times easier for him to float up to the corner of the room and capture the spider, rather than him holding Arthur up by the waist so the mechanic could catch it, but even in death he couldn’t stand the tiny eight legged creatures. So, here they were. “Got it!” Arthur suddenly exclaimed, screwing a lid onto the jar with a triumphant, if tiny, smile on his lips. “Good,” Lewis sighed, setting Arthur back on the floor, a slight shudder running through him as he glanced at the spider crawling frantically around the glass bottom of the jar. “Ugh. I don’t know how you can be so nonchalant holding that thing.” Arthur chuckled quietly, ever subdued around Lewis since he came back, “Because. It’s just a spider, Lew. You’re a fire toting ghost. I really don’t know how a tiny little, defenseless spider can still bother you.” To illustrate, he held the jar up and gave it a gentle shake, the spider skittering around to keep its balance. “Hey now, don’t do that,” Lewis admonished, placing a hand over Arthur’s to keep it still so the spider could regain its balance, “it may be gross and about to be part of a spell, but you don’t need to torment it before hand.” That gave Arthur pause, Lewis frowning as he noticed the sudden far away look on Arthur’s face. “Did the spell say it had to be a live spider?” Arthur asked after a moment, staring at Lewis’ large hand covering his own. It took Lewis a second longer to realize why Arthur had stopped and looked so distant, his heart giving a painful beat beneath his jacket. It may have only been a spider, but Lewis knew that Arthur was drawing correlation between himself and the helpless arachnid currently in their possession. Too many times he’d had to run in just before Arthur was used as a prop for some cult’s ritual, or help Vivi cast a spell to free Arthur before anything untoward could happen to him. And then he died, and he couldn’t protect Arthur from that green thing that had taken him away from his friends. And now? Now Arthur was, yet again, in danger of some supernatural thing that had decided he was the best target. He supposed it made sense that Arthur would suddenly feel for the spider that they had intended to kill for their own purposes. “No. I don’t think it did,” Lewis hummed quietly, moving to hoist Arthur back up, even as the blonde began to unscrew the lid he’d only just put on the jar. ~ “Okay, Vivi, we’ve got everything from your list,” Lewis said as he floated into the library, Arthur hot on his proverbial heels, “Well, except the spider is already dead. We had a, uhm...incident in the living room, so, yeah. I hope that works.” Arthur shot him a grateful smile, which he returned easily. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” Vivi waved a hand, lighting the last of at least a dozen or two candles around the room, “Just set it all down near the circle.” Lewis nodded as he set everything down near the edge of the rug that covered the floorboards of the library, before moving to lift the ornate rug, revealing a large summoning circle painted below. Inside it were several smaller circles, the largest acting as something of a lock to the others. The smaller circles each had different generic symbols painted into them with spaces left for Vivi to chalk in anything specific she would need for her spell casting, while the largest was repainted every couple of months to ensure that any magic or summoning that happened within was restrained and maintained inside to prevent any ‘accidents’ from happening. Mystery had helped with the construction and design, sighting several amateur circles he’d seen far too easily broken in the past. “Alright!” Vivi chirped, clapping her hands together as she looked over the ingredients Arthur and Lewis had brought, “Everything looks to be in order! The only thing left that we need,” she began boisterously, fading into a quiet, apologetic tone, “Is some of your blood, Artie.” That caused Arthur to stop in the middle of grabbing Vivi’s chalk from a shelf, turning to stare at her with wide eyes. “What?” he squeaked. “Well,” Vivi scuffed her toe lightly against the floor, looking abashed, “You’re connected to that thing now, whether we like it or not. And without anything from the actual vampire, we need something as a tether to let us follow it. I’m afraid the only thing that would allow us to do that would be, uhm, some of your blood.” Noticing how Arthur’s face visibly paled, she quickly waved her hands through the air. “Not much! Just a little bit! Just enough to give the spell the kick it needs.” Arthur swallowed thickly, absently rubbing at his prosthetic as he cast his gaze around the room, chewing on his lower lip. Lewis floated nearby, concern evident on his features. “I-” Arthur began, before swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, “Okay.” Vivi smiled encouragingly at Arthur, grabbing a tiny dagger from a shelf. “Okay, great. I’m just going to go give this a good wash, and then we can get started,” she said, hurrying out of the room. Arthur watched her leave, his mechanical arm twitching at his side. He really needed to do some repairs if he was going to be of any use later. “Hey.” Arthur jumped as Lewis spoke next to him, turning startled eyes towards the ghost. Lewis set his feet on the floor, walking over to Arthur to place a reassuring hand on his left shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Arthur. It’s Vivi. And, once your part is over, we can get your something to eat, yeah? I’ll make you something,” Lewis said, letting his hand slide to gently squeeze the back of Arthur’s neck, “Then you can go work on your arm, okay? Vivi and I will need time to plot out our root once the vampire is located.” Arthur shuddered slightly at Lewis’ strangely cool but warm touched moved to his neck, giving a tiny nod as Vivi came back into the room, a look of determination on her face. “That sounds good,” he murmured, eyes moving to the tiny glint of metal in Vivi’s hand. “Come on, Artie,” Lewis sighed, turning the blonde bodily in his direction as Vivi began to set up the spell, “Look at me.” Arthur obeyed after a moment, his breath slightly shallow as he focused on Lewis’ chin, still not quite able to look the other in the eyes, the black and magenta of Lewis’ eyes often the center of nightmares that still plagued him on occasion. Not that he ever blamed Lewis, but having been chased down by a flaming specter while looking for your best friend hadn’t exactly been a highlight of Arthur’s life. Lewis sighed quietly, tipping Arthur’s chin up, forcing the blonde to meet his gaze. He could see the way Arthur’s adams apple bobbed with nerves as he began to tremble under Lewis’ hands. “You’re going to be fine, Arthur. Everything is going to be fine. Take deep breaths, okay? In for seven, out for five. With my count, Arthur. One-” Lewis had helped Arthur through panic attacks many a time, breathing deep with the blonde to help calm him. He couldn’t recall a time since he’d died, though. It didn’t help that he no longer needed to breath, so Vivi had been the one to do it the last few times Arthur had begun to panic. But, now with Vivi busy and Mystery having disappeared at some point, it was up to him. He supposed keeping tempo was like counting breaths, so in a pinch he supposed it would do. But Arthur’s breath wasn’t evening out and he could feel how the blonde was beginning to tremble harder beneath his hands. Lewis finished his count, a light frown on his face as Arthur’s gaze skittered away from his to focus over his shoulder, the blonde obviously trying to control his breathing but failing miserably. It was then a sudden idea struck Lewis, releasing Arthur to dig into his jacket. He pulled his locket free, and pressed it into Arthur’s chest, making the blonde jump yet again, his eyes wide as he looked down at the glowing heart beating against his chest. Lewis took Arthur’s hand and placed it over the locket, forcing Arthur to fold it in place. “Focus, Arthur,” Lewis stated, replacing his hands on the blondes shoulders, “Focus on the beats, okay? Slow your breathing, and try to sync up with it, alright? I know you can do it.” After a minute or so, Arthur’s shoulders slumped as he stared down at the golden heart on his chest, his breath finally evening out as he relaxed. “Good,” Lewis hummed happily, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Thanks, Lewis,” Arthur murmured quietly, hugging the locket more closely to himself as his eyes slid shut, letting himself enjoy the simple comfort he was being offered. “Anytime, Artie.”