#fuck tagging ensemble pieces holy shit

[dunderella]

happy 1st anniversary to final fantasy 16, the game that changed my life in the best way possible 🥹💕

[milkcrates]

hi cloud pls know that i listened to the sibelius violin concerto bc of your tags on that art piece and now every time i get to that five minute mark i think of it and also you <3 i hope you are having a good day and also if you have any other music recs pls pls share

SOBS OMG that concerto's like. one of my Favourite Things Ever and to know that you associate it with my art makes me so so happy djhsfs <333

ALSO YES here are a few other pieces i hold very close to my heart (apologies if you already know them! hopefully i made up for it by pointing out my fav parts haha) links are to the renditions i like the most!!

- the lark ascending: ESPECIALLY 9:57 holy shit i get chills every time. when i first heard this i kept it on loop for like 2 hrs it rlly does sound like a bird taking flight - lux aurumque (wind ver): ok this is usually a choral piece but i'm very partial to the wind ensemble version bc i played it in band :') i love the harmonies throughout but esp at 2:26!! - dvorak piano quintet no.2 (2nd mvnt): god that piano. it makes me hold my breath it's so!! delicate but not fragile idk how describe i just Love It -BARBER VIOLIN CONCERTO (2nd mvnt): SAVED THE BEST FOR LAST BC THIS IS. tied w the sibelius concerto for my favourite piece of classical music Ever. literally can't get through it without replaying it at least 3 times. the oboe solo at the beginning?? oh my fucking god. and then every time that melody shows up again i'm!! knocked out!!! like at 6:24?? HELLO??? and GOD just... the orchestra coming up to meet it at 6:54 i'm. obsessed. also hilary hahn my beloved <3

i'll stop here so this doesn't get too long but ILY FOR THIS THANK YOU :''') i hope you're having a lovely day too!!!

[taebadam]

act two pt. 1:

act twooooooo. we start w hands clean (this ensemble wowwowwowowow) and the stage opens to bella and andrew on either side of nick, all staring out into the audience. a few moments later jo and frankie come in from stage right and stand on either side of bella, comforting her and staying by her side as they walk off stage. honestly, i love how bella is rarely alone in all of this, jo and frankie are always there for her it’s really sweet.

as they all leave we transition to a psychologist’s office where steve and mj are getting ready to meet w the doctor. cue not the doctor. so good. so funny. so clever. when yana comes up behind them as the doctor and announces “hello i am the doctor” it’s just so perfect. then comes the therapy session. the whole time steve is emotional and desperate trying to get through to mj and figure out what’s wrong he’s just so concerned and mj is just so completely closed off: body language, speech and all. she does not want to be there. she does mention her car accident, though, and the doctor comments that physical trauma can awaken past trauma, even sexual trauma (hint hint see the predator theme from forgiven…). mj immediately tries to deny this and steve just doesn’t know what to do. there is a funny line though where the doctor asks if steve would describe himself as the high-libido partner and steve responds “i would describe myself as a puppy under the table begging for scraps… and getting kicked in the head w a loafer” and mj goes “these are not loafers these are drivers” and it’s so funny. but eventually the doctor asks if mj has always been reluctant to have sex and steve says no, that “they were great once. remember?” cue head over feet. frankie and phoenix peek out from behind the panels on either side of the stage while mj and steve are still in the center as the song starts. eventually the couples switch places as the song grows and the swingset replaces the doctor’s office for frankie and phoenix to climb on while they sing. the song ends with them in frankie’s room, about to have sex. as they start taking each other’s clothes off jo enters from the side, singing your house (wow i love lauren patten her voice i just ahhhhhhhh). all of your house is acapella and lauren patten is just honestly a freak of nature. she walks into frankie’s room and catches them in the middle of having sex, running out and trying to hide the fact that she’s crying as frankie calls after her. she runs downstairs as mj and steve come home and announces that frankie has been having sex w a boy upstairs. she breaks the tension w one of my favorite lines “he was wearing dog tags w no shirt like a douche!” then steve calls her joanne before running upstairs. as he and mj leave she stops for a moment and says, her voice small, shaking and cracking a little and with a hint of just utter devastation “please don’t call me joanne.” she then returns to her usual funny self though and yells “i’m not a fucking fabric store!” before exiting the stage. again, just beautiful acting from lauren. the face jo puts on only breaks for a second but wow is it like a punch in the gut. it breaks me every time.

ok so you know how in theaters there are poles/scaffolding on either side of the stage where they hang lights and speakers and things? yeah. so steve and mj run into frankie’s room and phoenix can be seen literally climbing down said scaffolding w no shirt or pants on, trying desperately not to drop his clothes. steve comments about frankie’s friend “running down the sidewalk w his pants falling down” as phoenix stumbles through the audience just trying his best. it is so fucking funny. but then mj and steve start berating frankie. they say she’s too young to be having sex “especially w a boy she just met” and frankie responds “what if it was with a girl? i’m bisexual, did you know that?” and steve’s like “wow ok” and it’s hilarious cause clearly he’s like not upset w this and would want to talk about it more but also there’s another issue at hand and this poor dude is like idk what to do. meanwhile mj just keeps going on about how frankie shouldn’t be doing this and frankie goes “you don’t care about the situation w bella but as soon as i choose to have sex w someone i care about it’s a crime?” and mj goes “don’t even get me started in the situation w bella. if youre not careful frankie the same thing could happen to you.” silence. a few gasps in the audience. frankie slowly stands up and pushes mj away “you don’t get it.” she says, devastated, and begins packing a bag. they ask her what she’s doing, she says it’s none of their business and they say it is because they’re her parents. she yells “you are not my parents! look at me. you don’t own me just because you have a paper in a file folder somewhere. you thought you could straighten my hair and raise me around white kids and i would turn out like you. well i’mglad i didn’t. i don’t want o be like you.” she rushes off and steve and mj yell at each other in anger, mj blaming him as the workaholic who was never around and steve trying to get through to her and say that maybe they made some mistakes when raising frankie and they should try to listen to her. to no avail.

cut to unprodigal daughter. frankie is on a train to new york and her and the ensemble just completely rock out. she has her moment, finally free of all the pain and stress of home. she’s carefree and happy, dancing her heart out. OH WOW THE CHOREOGRAPHY HERE HOLY SHIT. also her voice. wowowow. so good. at the end, they do a lift w frankie that’s the EXACT SAME LIFT as they did w ebony (her double) back in all i really want. so good. after the song she calls phoenix, trying to get him to come to new york w her. she tells phoenix she loves him and he can’t say it back, he tries to explain that he really likes her he’s just not ready to say he loves her yet but frankie hangs up on him, heartbroken.

there’s a mini transition scene where all of the ensemble are on their phones saying horrible things about bella like that she’s only doing this for the money and that she’s just trying to get attention. at the end they all silently hold out their phone screens to the audience and walk off without a word. wow.

the next scene bella walks into the healy house, looking for nick. instead the finds mj in the kitchen and they talk. mj says she heard about what happened and says she understands how bella feels. bella says she doubts that and mj says that she’s experienced the same thing before, but that “we have to be strong and accept our mistakes.” she’s trying to smile, act like everything is ok. it’s a call back to her line in forgiven after she discusses her assault, where she says “i kept going i powered through.” bella looks at her for a moment and asks, “when did you start to feel better?” she pauses and her voice breaks as she begins to cry “how long did it take? tell me when i’m gonna feel normal again.” silence. mj doesn’t have an answer. “great.” bella says and leaves. nick comes in right after she goes and tells mj the police called, that he thinks he should say something about what he saw. mj immediately shuts him down, tells him to stay out of it for fear of him losing his reputation or, worse, his acceptance to harvard. he stops and says “i need to tell you what i saw that night.” cue predator.

this song is haunting. truly. it begins with that chilling theme and you just know what’s coming and all the times that theme came in during the first act start to come together and it dawns on you and just. wow. we go back to the night of the party, but this time from bella’s point of view. we now see everything andrew does so, so clearly and we’re left thinking: how did we not notice this before? the truth is each of us probably did notice something, something small. but we’ve been conditioned to ignore it, see it as normal, something that “just happens sometimes.” and it’s really a punch to the gut when you realize what you did, how you were a bystander who didn’t notice the signs that were right in front of your face. i have never seen a piece of art or media so successfully throw viewers into this mindset, truly showing us how easy it is to be passive and complicit. we can’t judge nick really. we can’t think “how could he not see something was wrong? how could he not say anything?” because we did it too. we see andrew give her drink after drink, pull her away from her friends and guide her as he pleases. about halfway through the song, however, bella steps away from the party scene to sing at the side and who replaces her? HEATHER. MJ’S BODY DOUBLE. heather takes her place in her same outfit and begins a truly mesmerizing choreography that has her falling around the stage, being pulled and lifted and tossed around by the ensemble like she has no control over her body, no control over her actions. the panels begin to move in as we get closer to the final chorus and eventually they open up to reveal a bed standing upright (like we’re looking down on it) with the party still raging behind and bella steps over and leans back on the bed as she hits her big note going into the climax of the song. she lays there on the bed, immobilized, singing in despair as andrew slowly approaches her while the panels around her show the images that were taken at the party which frankie and jo mentioned in the first act. then, as the chorus come to an end, andrew removes her from the bed and brings her to the floor. it’s at this point that a few things come together and let me tell you: i gasped. first, we notice we’re now witnessing the rape. bella is unconscious and andrew is beginning to undress her. second, it’s at this moment nick comes out from behind a panel, revealing not only that he saw how drunk bella was, but that he saw andrew beginning to rape her and did nothing. third is that as bella is removed from the bed who takes her place? mj. mj takes the exact same position that bella was in, watching the assault on the floor below her in horror. and finally, the final punch to the whole scene, is that as the song comes to a close the panels cover the photos of bella once again for just a moment and when they move away, what’s left beneath are no longer pictures of bella. they’re pictures of mj. in the same position. just. heart-wrenching.

after the song we see mj really start to break down. she yells at nick, asking why he didn’t do anything, asking if he “forgot she (bella) was a human being.” nick is devastated and mj is just barely holding it together. truly stunning. but even still mj tells nick he still can’t say anything. she doesn’t want him to get in trouble, and losing her perfect son is still central in her mind.

[raccoonwritings]

I’d Rather Be Dressed to the Nines

Eliott has only spoken two sentences in his presence and he’s already whipped.

Or Lucas has a wedding and needs a suit. Eliott just so happens to work in suit shop. 

Pure fluff written for a(n) annoying important obnoxious rude mec’s birthday. joyeux anniversaire @choupichoups 

Part 1 of 2. (Part two coming shortly)

(Title from How I met Your Mother’s, Nothin Suits Me Like a Suit)

Everyone should know by now that a 19 year old boy does not own a proper suit. Especially not Lucas, who barely has enough money to keep himself afloat. But suddenly he needs one because his aunt is getting married and alas, here he is now standing in front of a men’s suit warehouse looking like a deer caught in headlights.

The store looks a little nice from the outside, it’s not too shabby and if Lucas had a choice, he wouldn’t have gone to this store, but it’s the only one within walking distance to his apartment. Well, if he had a choice, he’d go to the wedding in sweats and a T-shirt, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t walk out of the venue alive, courtesy of Mama Lallemant. He best just get this over with.

The store is a lot nicer when he walks in, he reluctantly admits to no one. There are suits hanging on the wall and on the table to his right and he decides to not get overwhelmed at everything else around him and just start there. Simple. He can pick out a black suit and be done.

While he’s fingering through the suits, Lucas notices the price tags and begins to feel his heart convulse. Suits are fucking expensive. He doesn’t know what to do, because he’s in desperate need of a suit. That’s when he figures that there’s probably a discount section, so he begins looking around for any signs that say ‘discount’ or ‘sale’.

“Hello, can I help you with something?”

Lucas’ thoughts are cut short when he snaps his head far too fast, almost fast enough to disconnect his head from his body, but it’s absolutely worth it. The beautiful voice has a beautiful face to match.

He has beautiful eyes and curly, lovely hair that Lucas thinks the guy has probably never brushed once, but it doesn’t bother him at all. It’s not like he actually owns a hairbrush. It looks good on him, really good. The boy is lean and a bit muscular and Lucas might be drooling a little, but he doesn’t show it. This guy could genuinely be a model. Lucas is surprised he isn’t.

“Hello?” Suddenly, Lucas is brought back to reality when that beautiful voice speaks again. Lucas thinks the boy may have waved his hand in front of his face to get his attention. His cheeks are heating fast now, as the embarrassment sets in.

“Uh, hi.”

Lucas wants to punch himself in the nose. He isn’t coming off smooth at all and he wanted to impress this boy. The name tag on the boy’s shirt indicates his name is Eliott and dang, if that name didn’t make him more pretty. It fits him well and Lucas wants to impress Eliott, but fuck, he really isn’t at his peak smooth level.

Eliott chuckles and oh boy. Lucas has to focus super hard on what words come out of his mouth in order to answer.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks with a smile.

Lucas is whipped.

“Ah, ah I need a shit.”

Lucas only notices what he’s said because it gains a look from Eliott.

“A SUIT. I NEED A SUIT!” He exclaims, ears turning a bright shade a red.

Eliott is laughing now and Lucas feels utterly humiliated. “Luckily, we’ve got plenty of those. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for in terms of suits?”

“Um, I’m not really sure,” Lucas rubs the back of his neck, “I just need a suit for my aunt’s wedding.” Lucas doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Ah a wedding! I love those!” Eliott’s face lights up. Lucas smiles softly at it. It gives him those little butterflies. “So you have no idea what you’d like?”

Truthfully, no. Lucas hasn’t thought about it at all, so he shakes his head.

“Do you trust me to pick something then?” Eliott’s eyes are so heartwarming and they make Lucas flush slightly.

“Okay,” Lucas replies gently. He watches as Eliott bustles around, picking out suits and dress shirts and ties and many more things that he thought he would need. He just enjoys watching Eliott buzzing around. How can he be fond of someone who he just met?

After a few minutes, Eliott walks up to him, arms full of many, many clothes. “Ready to go to the dressing room?”

Lucas nods and follows the tall, handsome boy to the back of the store, where he is given a semi large room with a couple of standing racks and mirrors and a bench, so he can try on the clothes Eliott picked for him.

“I’ll wait outside, so I can make sure everything fits!” Eliott says enthusiastically. “But take your time! And let me know if I can help at all!” He smiles and melts Lucas’ heart instantly.

“O-okay.” Lucas locks the door and immediately leans against it. This was not how he had expected today to go.

He turns to the bundle of clothes sat neatly on the bench and looks through it. He pulls out everything he thinks he needs for a full piece suit and begins changing rather slowly. He’s not used to seeing himself in a suit, so he takes his time looking in the mirror as he tugs the clothes on.

Already, Lucas notices the sleeves of the jacket are too tight and the waist of the dress pants he has on is a bit small. The only thing in this round that seems to be working is the white button down shirt underneath the suit, which makes him look skinny and slim and rather attractive if you ask him. Running a hand through his hair, Lucas accepts that he looks good in this ensemble, despite the size issue. A voice from outside the door interrupts Lucas staring at himself in the mirror.

“Is everything alright in there?” Eliott asks.

Oh, that’s right! Eliott’s waiting for him. That thought makes Lucas’ stomach all fluttery. He takes a last glance in the mirror and opens the door, revealing a tall boy with glittering eyes staring right at him.

“Wow,” is all that leaves Eliott’s mouth. He’s ogling Lucas now, and Lucas is nervous. He’s not used to attention, especially from handsome suit shop employees. It’s then that Lucas remembers Eliott is probably just looking at him to see the fit of the suit and his heart drops. He’s not looking at him because he’s attracted to Lucas, but because he’s there to help him pick an outfit. Suddenly, Lucas wants to be anywhere but here.

Eliott must notice something is changing or bothering him because he steps forward slightly with concerned eyes. Everything about his body language is open and warm and inviting and Lucas wants to fall into him, but he doesn’t even know if Eliott is attracted to him, or guys in general. Lucas mentally sighs.

The softness of Eliott’s voice drags him from his inner turmoil. “Is everything okay? Do you not like the suit?” Lucas thinks it’s funny how Eliott’s mind goes directly to the suit, which, in his favor, doesn’t actually fit him correctly.

“It’s a little tight around the waist, I guess. And the sleeves are a bit short for me,” he replies, thinking he chose to voice the more appropriate reason for what was bothering him. The waist is small and starting to cut off his circulation, so probably something that needs to be addressed.

“I didn’t know exactly what was your size, so I took a guess. I guess I’m not as good as I think I am at picking out suits,” Eliott smiles at him. “What size is that? The color looks very nice on you, so I’m going to go grab it in a size up.”

Lucas’ ears stop working after Eliott says the color looks good on him. His heart rate is picking up and he is working so hard to tell it to calm the fuck down. Color compliments are normal, people give them all the time!

After Eliott repeats the question, Lucas catches on and gives him the size, only to watch him run off in search of the same suit, but in the next size up. Honestly, Lucas hopes the suit is there, so he can get out of the store as possible. He needs to stop thirsting over a boy in a suit shop. Sigh.

It takes less than five minutes for Eliott to return, formal wear in hand. “Before I give you the suit, I have a question for you.”

Probably another clothing related one. “Hm?”

“What’s your name?” Oh. That’s not what Lucas was expecting. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier. Of course you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” His tone is kind and gentle and Lucas’ heart melts just a little bit. Okay, no, a lot.

“My name’s Lucas.”

“Lucas,” Eliott repeats, almost experimentally, like he’s test driving it. Fuck, does Lucas like how his name sounds on the other boy’s tongue. “The name suits you.”

Lucas wonders what he means by that and he doesn’t realize he’s said anything out loud until Eliott is shoving the clothes in his arms and staring directly into his eyes. “Beautiful name for a beautiful boy.”

Holy shit. Ha ha, he’s whipped. His cheeks are warming and he assumes he resembles a deer in headlights. He genuinely doesn’t think his movements through because he just needs to retreat from Eliott’s gaze, so he pivots his body and moves forward too much, ultimately slamming his body (and face) into the dressing room door. The sound travels, a hilarious bunck noise, and he stands there for a minute, trying to get a small bit of his mojo back.

He feels Eliott’s being closer behind him, radiating concern through a chuckle or two. “Are you alright?”

His head hurts and he can’t believe he actually just did that, but he nods valiantly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do I need to flirt with you more subtly? It seems my direct approach gets you hurt,” Eliott muses. This boy is going to stop Lucas’ heartbeat.

“Hahahaha,” Lucas replies under duress. He’s at a loss for words because, if his ears aren’t deceiving him, Eliott just admitted to bluntly flirting with him. Gosh, he really hopes he isn’t just hearing things. “I’m going to try this on now,” he announces, swinging his hand up that’s holding the clothes. Movement today really isn’t his thing because he drops nearly everything and curses his existence underneath his breath.

Quickly scrambling to grab everything before Eliott can help, Lucas enters the dressing room without slamming face first into the door this time. He lays the pile of clothes on top of the one already has and strips himself of the tight fabric. The dress shirt stays on, mainly because it fits like a glove and Lucas likes how he looks in it. Buttoning up this pair of pants is much easier and the jacket slips right on over the shirt with simplicity. He likes this combination a lot, he decides as he stares at his reflection. His hair is falling in his face slightly, but it doesn’t bother him.

To be honest, he doesn’t know how much time he spends looking in the mirror, but it must have been long enough for Eliott clear his throat loudly, indicating that he has been waiting outside for Lucas this entire time. Forcing himself not to blush, Lucas pushes down on the door handle and swings the door open. There Eliott is standing there, eyeing him up just like last time.

“Oh this one fits much better. Not that I minded the tighter one. What do you think?”

Well, obviously he isn’t toning down the flirting at all and Lucas is trying to come up with a witty line to respond with, but he’s unable to, so he just answers the question. “It fits better, mhmm.”

“That’s good! And you like the button down shirt as well?” The question makes Lucas feel a little self conscious, all of a sudden. Does he not look good in the shirt? Does Eliott not think he looks good?

He frowns. “Do you not like it?”

“My gosh no! Of course I do! I like everything I’m seeing, I just wanted to make sure that the shirt fits and that it’s the one you want,” Eliott reassures.

“Oh okay. That makes sense.” Lucas’ mind replays the I like everything I’m seeing part more times than he’d care to admit.

“Do you have a tie that you want to try with the suit? I threw one or two in the first pile of clothes I pick out for you.”

Lucas nods. He takes a quick trip back inside the dressing room to retrieve a gray tie and returns to the spot he was standing in beside Eliott. “This one?”

“Exactly. Do you need help putting it on?” Eliott inquires softly, as he tugs at the tie in Lucas’ hand. It’s not like Lucas has the ability to control his limbs in his current state of cute boy, cute boy, cute boy, so Eliott is able to take the tie rather easily.

Very slowly, Eliott moves closer and slides the tie around his neck. Eliott is looking down at the tie, while making pausing to make very subtle glances up. Lucas’ eyes are beginning to become blocked by the chaos that is his hair. He doesn’t risk reaching up to fix it though, considering his streak of embarrassing physical movements, it’s very possible he could end up hitting Eliott in the face. That boy is so close to Lucas and his eyes are pretty and gosh he’s cute.

Eliott is tying the knot, taking his sweet old time, but Lucas doesn’t mind. He has an excuse to look at him and he’s taking full advantage of it. How nice it would be for him to get to look at Eliott all the time. A boy can dream.

Once the tie is tied - with a shitty knot if you ask Lucas, but he doesn’t dare say a word - Eliott buttons his jacket. “There, all done. Your date to the wedding is going to one lucky guy.”

Woah, woah, woah. Why does Eliott think Lucas has a date? He doesn’t have a date! No there’s no date here! Maybe Eliott could be his date. He would be a nice date. That’s a date he would like to have. Hopefully Eliott will ask him on a date. Oh, a date with Eliott. A very nice date.

“No! Uh, I mean, no date. To the wedding. I don’t have a date to the wedding. No plus one. I’m a single pringle. Super single, haha.”

Lucas has never wanted to punch himself so much before in his life. That was probably the most unsmooth group of sentences to leave his mouth. Why is his brain failing him today? What did he do to deserve this?

The response he gets from Eliott is pure. There’s no laughter or mockery, just a wide grin. Eliott seems pleased and it makes Lucas’ heart soar.

“That’s good. Really good actually,” Eliott explains.

Lucas is feeling bold, so he whispers, “Why’s that?”

“Because that means I can ask you out on a proper date without worrying that you already have a boyfriend.” Eliott is nonchalant and Lucas is unable to control his rapid heartbeat.

“A...date?” He questions, just to make sure that he heard Eliott right. He genuinely does not trust himself today.

“Yeah, a date. Would you like that? To go on a date with me?” Eliott questions, brushing Lucas’ hair out of his eyes.

Lucas nods, a little too fervently he realizes, so he slows himself down and tries to muster a sense of coolness and subtlety that he doesn’t actually have in this universe. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The smile he elicits from Eliott is beautiful. “Good, good. But I do have one requirement.”

Oh?

“What would that be?”

“You wear this suit.”

Lucas can do that. Easily.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Behind The Marriage - Harry Styles Series (Part 23)

Part 22

“You’re killing me, Harry,” Harry groaned at his stylist as they were doing his final fitting for his Met Gala outfit. “Just a little sneak peek is all I’m asking here.” 

“No can do,” he responded. “Your missus told me not to tell you anything about what we’ve chosen for her to wear.” 

“Then fucking show me!” He pointed out. “Telling and showing are two very different things.” 

“You know what I mean you fucker,” Harry laughed. “Now, stop moving before I poke you with this.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “You know, you’re supposed to be my stylist...” 

“Yep, but ever since you married Y/N, what’s yours is her’s,” he smirked. 

“Can you at least give me a color?” Harry asked. 

“If it will make you shut the hell up about it, yes. I’ll give you a color. Black,” he said. 

“Well, that could be bloody anything,” he mumbled. “Is it going to form-fitting or loose?” 

“If you’re asking because you want to know if she’s going to try and hide her baby bump, the answer is both,” he said. 

“Excuse me?” Harry asked looking over at him. 

“Let’s just say we’ve designed something that’s sexy and also hides her bump, just a little. People will only catch it if they look close enough,” he said. 

He groaned, “Now, I wish you hadn’t told me all of that shit because it makes me want to know what she’s wearing even more.”

“That’s why you should have just waited,” he smirked. 

**

The Met Gala was a few days away, which meant you and Harry would be going to NYC soon. You were currently in LA, doing some work for a bit, but also to get a change of scenery. Your baby bump was starting to be a little more noticeable, but you could still hide it fairly well for a few more weeks at least. 

Knowing the Met Gala was something highly publicized and tons of photos would be taken prior and after the event, you knew the chance of your pregnancy getting out was huge. You and Harry still hadn’t really talked about when or how you would address it when the time came for the world to start noticing, so you weren’t quite sure how you would handle the Met. 

When it came to your outfit, you really wanted to make sure you felt your best and looked your best, but also not making it super obvious that you were pregnant. Which part of you felt a little ashamed of it because you were sure the majority of pregnant women couldn’t wait to show off their baby bumps. But your situation was also different from theirs. 

It’s not that you didn’t want the world to know you were pregnant, it’s just you knew what would happen or at least, what could happen, once the news broke. It would be featured on every news outlet and social media website. Fans would flood your mentions with either happy congrats, or something far worse. 

And you weren’t ready for that. 

Not, that you would ever really be ready for it, to be honest. 

But you wanted just a little more time for you and Harry to bask in the excitement of future parenthood with just you, your families, and close friends knowing. 

When Harry L approached you about if you wanted help finding something to wear, you quickly and happily jumped at the opportunity. You two met with some of the designers at Gucci and were able to design the perfect outfit. Not only did you feel absolutely beautiful in it, and that was without proper hair and makeup, but it also complemented Harry’s outfit well, however, it was still something of your own. 

You wanted to surprise Harry by not showing him or telling him about the outfit prior to the event. He was annoyed because he had shown you his outfit as soon as it was finalized. It was sort of cute how he was so desperate in finding even the smallest amount of clues, he had looked through your closet. 

As if you were actually keeping the outfit there. You also made Harry L and the people of Gucci to not utter a word to Harry about it. And as far as you knew they all kept their word. 

**

“Oh my god what are you two doing?” You groaned walking into the bathroom of your NYC hotel room. 

Harry L was standing there with your Harry sitting in a chair with a needle. 

“It was his idea!” Harry L defended. 

“You’re the one that suggested an earring for pierced ears,” Harry scoffed. 

“True, but I was leaning more for you getting it professionally done, not you sticking your own ear in the fucking bathroom,” Harry said. 

“Oh my god are you seriously watching the scene from the Parent Trap as your tutorial!” You shook your head. 

“Hey! It was the first thing that popped up on Youtube,” he shrugged. 

“You do realized there are probably like hundreds of legit professional piercers in the city, right? And you just like couldn’t go to one of them because?” You asked. 

“Not enough time. I’ve got the dinner tonight and the Met is tomorrow,” he said removing the ice from his ear. 

“I can’t watch this,” you mumbled. “And I swear if your ear gets infected because of this, I will severely hurt you Harrys.” 

“Hey! How did I get thrown into this, I’m not doing it,” Harry L said. 

“You’re in the fucking room with him and assisting his stupidity, so yes you are very much a part of it,” you said. “Now, excuse me while I go get ready like a normal fucking person.” 

Once you left, Harry L looked down at Harry, “Guess I should have locked the door, right?” 

**

You were putting on your earrings in your black velvet floor length dress with a sweetheart neckline. It was quite form-fitting, but the way it hung over your belly bump made it only noticeable when you stood to the side. Your hair was in a high ponytail with big curls that framed your face. 

When you looked in your mirror, you saw your husband staring at you. You turned around smoothing out your dress.

“What do you think?” you asked. 

He walked over to you, not saying a word, putting his hands on your hips. 

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he smiled. “And if tomorrow’s outfit is better than this, then the rest of us should just stay the fuck home.” 

You laughed, “I wouldn’t go that far,” you smiled. 

“I would,” he smirked. 

He placed his hand on your belly, “How are you feeling about this?” 

“The world is going to find out eventually,” you said. “I’m only going to get bigger and then we’re going to have  a baby tagging along with us.” 

“I know, but I want you to know I’m not going to let anything or anyone get near you and our baby,” he said. 

“I know, “ you smiled putting your hand on his cheek. “You do realize your ear is as red as your suit jacket, right?” 

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, when pus starts oozing out, it’s not going to be,” you stated. 

“Well, it’s not going to do that because we were safe,” he smirked. 

“Pretty sure an at home piercing with a sewing needle is not safe,” you said. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on we’re going to be late,” he laughed. 

**

The Pre Met Gala dinner went great, even though it was pouring rain both on arrival and departure. You were a little uneasy being surrounded by different celebrities and those that were huge within the fashion industry. You most sat back letting Harry mingle around, which you didn’t mind because this was his event. You were super proud of him and you knew you would only be more proud the next evening. 

When you saw the pap photos of you and Harry, you couldn’t help, but smile. You felt and looked beautiful and couldn’t have been happier. You zoomed in on some of the photos to see if your bump was noticeable, and even though you knew it was there, you couldn’t really find it. You thanked Harry being at your side, the umbrellas being held, and the off lighting. 

The photos at the Met Gala, however, would really be put to the test. Especially since your outfit would be a little bit more daring than the previous night. You were currently getting your hair and makeup done in a different hotel room from Harry because you wanted to keep him waiting on your entire look. 

Once your hair and makeup was finished, it was time to get into your dress. The dress is technically a two piece, but appears as a full dress. The top  is an off the shoulder midnight black crop top with lace bell sleeves from the shoulder down. The same lace covers the skin of your belly and stops just at the top hem of your high waisted midnight black skirt with a slit up to your mid-thigh. 

There was a Robin’s Egg colored fabric on the underside of your skirt that matched your small backpack. Your shoes were black platform sandals that were much more comfortable than any pairs of heels, which you were super grateful for. 

Since your top left your neck bare, you were able to wear a massive, gaudy pearl choker with matching earrings. Your hair was up in a updo, with different strands of pearls, glitter, and matching pinks and robin’s egg strands braided in your hair. 

Your makeup was mostly simple, but you still had elements of glitter and color’s used in your eye makeup and lipstick. 

You texted Harry when you ready for him to come in and see you for the first time. You were nervous on what he would think and if it really fit the look the theme was asking for. Plus, you didn’t want him or  anyone else think you were trying too hard. 

As soon as you heard the knock on the door, you felt your stomach drop. Well, it was now or never. They opened the door for Harry, who was already wearing his black ensemble. 

“Where’s my missus?” He said eagerly. 

“Right here,” you said before walking out into the living area. 

“Holy shit!” he whispered. “Holy fucking shit.” 

“Um... is that a good thing?” you asked confused. 

“You look... wow.. bloody fucking wow,” he said. “I can’t... wow. You look I’m so fucking speechless right now, baby.” 

You smiled, “So I take it you like it?” 

“I do,” he smiled. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you smiled. “When Harry told me you were going to wear lace, I asked about incorporating it with mine and we found a happy medium. And then when I found out what you were painting your nails... I was happy that I had already chosen that color for outfit.” 

“Well, we’re just two peas in a fashionable Camp pod,” he joked. 

“Please, tell me you did not just say that,” you giggled. 

“I did and I’m proud of it,” he smirked.

**

“So, are you going to go ahead of me?” You asked on the way. “I know the Co-chairs usually go first.”

“What? No, you’re going with me,” he said. “Yes, we go first, but you’re going to be with the while time. I’m not going to let you walk the carpet by yourself.” 

“Are you sure? This is your moment,” you said. 

“And you’re my wife, it may technically be my moment, but it’s also our moment,” he said. 

“I love you,” you smiled. “And I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you, too,” he smiled. “Now, are we ready to do this?” 

“I’m ready if you are,” you smiled. 

You felt nervous the closer you approached the Pink carpet and the venue. Harry squeezed your hand in reassurance and you it was like your nervousness lessened. You could see and hear the camera’s flashing and the nearby fans screaming. It was a little overwhelming and you weren’t even on the carpet yet. 

When it was finally time to get onto the carpet and walk. Harry kissed your cheek before both of you walked out behind Alessandro. Everyone was shouting Harry’s name and the flashes of light were pretty blinding. But you were holding your own. 

When Harry was taking photos of just himself an with Alessandro, you were taking your own photos, which felt a little weird, but also pretty liberating. While you were perfectly fine being Harry’s wife or plus one for the night, it was nice to be able to stand out and show you were more than that. 

Halfway through the carpet, Harry wrapped his arm around you waist, “You okay?” He whispered into your ear. “We’re almost done.” 

“I’m perfect,” you smiled. 

The rest of the time, Harry never left your side only talking photos with you before walking off and standing where he needed to to greet the other guests. 

“You can on inside, love, and sit down. Harry’s in there and if you need me, let me know,” he said. 

You nodded kissing his cheek before heading inside. 

**

Once the Gala was over, it was time for the After Party. Harry kept asking you, if you felt up to going since it was so late, but you reassured him you and the baby were fine. You had changed into a more simple, colorful dress for the afterparty and spent your time dancing around and eating sandwiches was because baby was hungry. 

While you were shoving yet another sandwich in your mouth, thanks to Harry bringing an entire tray of them up to the DJ booth, you were started scrolling through social media looking for the photos from the carpet. 

So, far everyone loved your outfit and you were super happy about it. And then...  came the speculations of your baby bump... all ready. 

That didn’t take long. 

“I swear she looked fat or pregnant!” 

“I bet that’s why they got married” 

“She should have covered up more!” 

“DADDY HARRY IS HAPPENING!” 

“Nothing is more Camp than wearing a fake baby bump to “prove” a pregnancy is going to be real.”

And of course, that meant articles were starting to appear as well. 

“Met Gala Co-Chair Harry Styles’ Wife Shows off possible baby bump on Pink Carpet.” 

“Could it be yet another former One Direction star is about to be a father?” 

“Life After One Direction Equals Fatherhood.”

“Harry Styles’ Wife Wore a Different Accessory at this year’s Met Gala. A Baby Bump.” 

You didn’t even click on them because you didn’t want them to gain views. You knew this would most likely happen, but you didn’t think it would be within only a few hours of the event. You didn’t want to show Harry the speculations or what was currently being said because you didn’t want to ruin his night. 

So, you simply put the phone away, grabbed another sandwich, and danced the rest of the night away with your husband before all hell broke loose the next day. 

 **

HEY EVERYONE!!! 

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR BEING SO UNDERSTANDING WITH MY LACK OF POSTING THESE LAST FEW WEEKS. I PLAN ON POSTING MY REGULAR AMOUNT OF TIMES PER WEEK NOW, BUT BARE WITH ME AS I GET BACK IN THE FLOW OF WRITING. 

ALSO, I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS UPDATE! LET ME KNOW! 

[solange-lol]

Crazier Than You - Ch 3/?

Chapter Title: Full Disclosure 

Words: 1351

[chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four (coming soon)]

Read on Ao3

Will was, admittedly, a little bit distracted the following week. However, it wasn’t so much because of Nico but more of the rapidly approaching show. They were only a week away from dress rehearsal and while majority of the set was built, they still had to add doors to the center piece, build wheeling gates, put up the walls, and build the bed of nails.

Okay, scratch that; they still had a shit ton to do. Not to mention SATs were falling right between dress rehearsal and the show, and midterms were falling only the week after. They were short on people and short on time.

To put it simply, Will was stressed out of his mind. So, dumping a bucket paint on his clothes was just the cherry on top.

Lou Ellen seemed to find the entire situation hilarious, immediately whipping out her phone so she could Snapchat the entire situation. It was even worse when Cecil came over with a handful of wood chips and dust, claiming that it would help get the paint out as he threw them onto Will. (It did not).

He wasn’t even painting today so he didn’t have his already-destroyed tech clothes on. It was just that finicky bucket that caused his downfall. At least he remembered to wear his tech sneakers, which were covered with various paint stains. However, hot pink paint now streaked down his favorite hoodie (a navy blue UT hoodie from when he lived in Texas) and a relatively new pair of jeans.

Typical.

As he walked towards the back of the auditorium, he heard a snort from behind him. Turning around to accept his fate of being the next inside joke between all the theatre kids, he was both equally relieved and nervous when he realized that it was Nico. Not exactly the ideal situation.

Nico, in question, was sitting in one of the rolly chairs at the lightbox. Usually, it was where Thalia Grace and Katie Gardner sat, respectively for their light tech and sound tech positions. However, neither girl was in sight. Will knew he should be concerned, but he was too busy to keep track of them all right now. As long as they could turn on and off lights and mics, which he knows they are more than capable of after watching them do it for 3 years, that’s all he needed.

“How did that happen, Solace?” Nico grinned.

“Tilted it. Cap wasn’t secured,” Will could feel his face turning the same shade of pink as the paint on his clothes. “Why are you here?” he asked when he noticed Nico wasn’t in rehearsal clothes.

Instead of a typical t-shirt and sweats, Nico was wearing a chunky gray sweater and black jeans. Thick-frame glasses that Will had never seen before were placed on the bridge of his nose. They pushed his fringe away from his eyes, and for once Will noticed that Nico’s eyes were a dark, chocolate brown. He sat sideways on the chair, feet dangling off the end adorned in converse with rainbow laces. If this was his typical school outfit, Will was disappointed to be graduating without the chance to see him more in class.

Nico shrugged. “Admiring the madness,” he said, gesturing to the stage. Then added “and waiting for my dad to pick me up, because my sister took my car,”

Half of the stage in question was being taken up by tech, and the other half was filled with actors as they tried to learn the dance for Tango De Amor. He sees the appeal of watching it now watching it from the front. Reyna, who was playing Morticia, was pushing 6 inches taller than Leo, who was playing Gomez.

Will had heard from Travis, who heard from his brother Connor, who heard from his boyfriend and head of the costumes department, Mitchell, that they were lowering the height for Reyna’s heels, so she wouldn’t be a whole foot taller than him. Even Still, them dancing next to each other looked ridiculous

“I can’t imagine trying to tango like that,” Nico shook his head.

“The all-talented Nico di Angelo can’t dance?”

Nico went a bit red in the face as he vigorously shook his head again. “Not in the slightest.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” Will said, extending his arm without a second thought. Nico just stared at him blankly, so he reached out and pulled him out of the chair. “C’mon. We’ll follow along. You can be Morticia.”

Nico squinted his eyes, glaring harmlessly. “You better not get any of that paint on my clothes,” he grumbled, but Will could tell he was suppressing a smile.

Their rendition was horrible. The dance included so much feet work and clapping on time and crazy dips. As it turns out, Will couldn’t dance either. Even the beginning, which was essentially just walking back and forth, they bost lost their footing a few times. While Leo was able to near-flawlessly dip Reyna on stage despite their height difference, Will nearly dropped the other boy. He could see some of the ensemble members dancing in the background trying not to giggle.

They were a bit better, going back to the regular tango again, managing to not trip

completely this time. It was here that Will realized his arm was around the boy he liked and holy shit he must be sweating like crazy.

Then, Reyna suddenly slid into a split and that was where they lost it. Nico didn’t even bother trying, instead started laughing into Will’s shoulder, which made him laugh along.

This whole situation was insane and should be uncomfortable, but he felt so natural next to Nico.

And then, Lou Ellen came along to ruin it all. “Will, we need your help with the lights. We tried to get Katie up there, but you’re the only one tall enough even with the ladder,” she sighed, adjusting the bandana that was keeping her hair back. Ah, so that’s where Katie and Thalia were. She finally noticed both of the pink-faced boys standing close together, and then Will’s still-paint covered clothes.

“Lou-”

“You haven't even changed yet? I don’t care what was going on back here, we need you now,” she shoved him towards the door. Will glanced apologetically towards Nico, who just shook his head.

“My dad is probably here anyway, go do your thing,” he said with a small smile, and Will nodded back.

After successfully changing into the extra clothes he had brought previously for tech, he exited the bathroom and opened the door to the auditorium, where he nearly ran straight into Nico. Again.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just leaving,” Nico said, holding up a still-lit phone with a text from his dad.

“You’re good,” Will said, then surprised both of them with what came next. “Um, do you want to, like, hang out sometime? Out of school? Maybe after the show is over?” He mentally cursed at himself for the uncertainty in his voice.

Thankfully, Nico’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Uh, yeah. That’d be cool.”

“Cool. So, I’ll text you?”

“Yeah! But, u, I don’t have your number.”

“Oh. Right!” Stupid, Stupid Will. “Give me your phone, I’ll put it in now.” Nico swiped to open a new contact, then handed it over. Will tapped in his name and his number, pressing ‘Create New Contact’ before he handed it back over.

“Thanks. So, see you around?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you,” they both smiled, and Will noted the pink dusting Nico’s nose and cheeks. Maybe it was the stuffy lobby. Or maybe-

“WILL! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE,” Lou yelled from inside the room, followed by their director scolding her. Will shook his head and went in as Nico went out; heir hands brushing accidentally. He resisted the urge to grab it and feel Nico’s hand against his again.

When he reached the stage, Lou was shaking her head at him. “That was the most awkward interaction I have ever seen,” she sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

Will thought back to his number now in Nico’s phone. “Not completely.”

thanks for reading! tag list under cut! (message me to be added/removed)

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[turtle-steverogers]

that was unexcepted & you've always felt like home with redfinch?

skeet skeet yeet meat

warnings: none

ship: redfinch

editing: no[

Albert reclined his seat, kicking his feet up on the dashboard as he and Finch continued to fly down the road, pleasant dusk colors looming over the mountains.  He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving, but he didn’t care.  They’d been talking about escaping for as long as he could remember, and to finally do it felt invigorating.  It was as if all the years he’d spent penting up his anger and hatred towards a world that treated him so unfairly were finally paying off and he was free to breathe.

Abruptly, Finch pulled over, turning into a small path that led off road into a clearing.  He threw the car in park, flashing Albert a quick grin before climbing out of the car.  Albert sat up, confused as he watched his boyfriend disappear to the trunk, coming back a moment later with their sleeping bags.  He tapped on Albert’s window, laughing when he jumped at the noise and beckoning for him to follow.

“Whatcha doing?” Albert asked, joining Finch on the hood of the car, where he was now perched with his sleeping bag pulled over his legs and pooling around his hips.

Albert wriggled into his own, miming Finch as he leaned back onto the windshield.

Finch shrugged, stretching his arms behind his head, “Dunno,” he said, “Just thought we could take a break to watch the stars come out.”

Albert hummed, tearing his eyes away from the sky to look at Finch, “That’s cheesy.”

“So’s running away to escape our problems.”

“Can’t argue that.”

Albert found his way into Finch’s arms as the world grew steadily darker around them.  They were silent as nighttime engulfed them, drinking in each other’s warmth and company.

Albert closed his eyes, listening to Finch’s steady heartbeat and melting into the sounds of the world around him.  Bugs hummed softly in the trees, just barely drowning out the sounds of cars in the distance.  The isolation was soothing, and Albert was just beginning to doze, when he heard Finch gasp.

“What?” He asked, lifting his head.

“Look,” Finch breathed, eyes glinting with a new kind of light.

Albert followed his gaze, a small smile gracing his features when he took in the millions of stars that now blanketed the night sky.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, scanning the stretch of constellations, trying to piece together which was which.

A shooting star flitted across the sky, disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared.

“Holy fuck,” Finch said, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the hood, eyes widening, “did you see that? That was awesome!”

“I did see it,” Albert said, smirking.

“That was so unexpected!”

“I mean, I guess,” Albert scooted forward, wrapping his arms around Finch’s middle, “it’s really just debris from space, colliding with the Earth’s atmosphere at rapid speeds, converting from a meteoroid to a meteor and creating what we interpret as shooting stars.”

Finch turned to him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before saying, “Damn, Dasilva, way to be a mood killer.”

Albert laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss before situating them back down on the windshield.  Finch sighed happily, pressing a kiss to Albert’s hair in return.

Albert peered up at him, playing with his jacket zipper, “Do you ever miss home?” he asked, not entirely sure why the question had entered his mind.  He had been wondering it, though.  It had been his idea to leave, Finch just came along for the ride.

Finch didn’t look at him, still enthralled by the stars overhead.  He shrugged, “Never really left.”

Albert furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

Finch bit his lip, thinking for a moment before looking down at him, sincerity swimming in his starlit gaze, “Al, you’ve always felt like home to me.  As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”

Albert blushed, an uncontrollable grin making its way across his face as he buried his head in Finch’s shoulder, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Finch chuckled, “Wherever you are, I am, love.”

Albert lifted his head to kiss him in response, the world silencing around them.

-

y’all all i wanna do in life is drive across the country and stop to see random shit along the way and have no destination and no ties and just explore and shit and yeah, anyone wanna come with me?

thanks for reading, chiefs

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[tottwritesfanfic]

So, I was tagged by @gilrael for the following:

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on.

This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets!

HOO BOY.

Listen, my first reaction was pretty much “I can’t list all the things I’m currently working on. It’s...no one wants to read that whole list. It’s too long. There’s too much.”

I have been called out good and proper, but you know what? This is what the read more button was made for. These won’t be in any particular order, because I really don’t have an “order” in which I work on things? Also, some of these projects are so far on the back-burner that I really can’t say I’m actively working on them, but I never know when inspiration will strike next and divert me from what I should be doing. Essentially, if it makes the list, I think of it in my head as “imma finish this.” 

Buckle up peeps, because we May Be Some Time.

My Epic YA Fantasy Series Featuring Pretty Much Zero Romance. I neglect this series way too much for something I consider my firstborn, but this is my Passion, okay. My very username is derived from the initials of the series title. I’ve been writing and rewriting it for almost two thirds of my life now, and one day when I have something to show for that labour of love, I will be screaming about it from the rooftops. Mark my words. Also I counted this as one but there’s like...at least five novels, and also shitloads of maps and worldbuilding notes, and songs, and I have a boxfile of old pictures drawn by myself or my sister, and progress on three or four conlangs... It’s hard to really convey just how much of this shit there actually is, if I’m honest.

Hope’s Fire My first ever proper fanfic, and also sorely neglected of late. I love this story so much though, and once I push past the block I have for the current chapter I can’t wait to progress with it, because there are fuuuun times ahead.

A Standalone Novel (sucky working title is “The Aspect’s Choice”) Another YA novel, which...actually has a complete draft? Like, start to finish with no skipped scenes or anything like that. There’s magic and shit, and also no romance for the lead, it’s like this is a theme in my works or something (there’s a background romance this time tho, for those of you who like shipping).

A Fantasy Trilogy about paradoxes and multidimensional travel. I’m mentioning this one now even though I’m kinda...not working on it that much, because I’ve borrowed heavily from it for some fanfic projects. The first novel is a fantasy spy thriller, the second is a sort of...ensemble piece about a major disaster at a futuristic interdimensional traffic control place a lot like an airport/train station, and the third one is a journey through space and time on a sorta magic train which explains how the fuck the first two books are actually connected.

A World of Trouble (The Spy AU) Haikyuu fic! I started this for the HQ Brofest last year and it’s really taken off. The plot for this story was shamelessly nicked from the first book in the above trilogy, albeit with some fairly substantial divergences. 

Until We Move On My...actually, daaamn, this was my first HQ fic. I entered this fandom in a fairly definite fashion, with Suga already dead and Oikawa following shortly after - I swear it’ll have a happy ending for them both eventually tho.

Metanoia, Renascent, and Equanimity (the Trinacriform series) I debated listing these separately, to be honest. There’s no denying that Metanoia and Equanimity are higher up on my list of things to work on than Renascent is right now, but all three are still important to me and all three are going to be finished someday. Ultimately they’re here as one because holy shit this list is going to be long enough already.  Rest assured I do actually think of them as three separate entities in my head! 

The Triffid AU (just gonna list these because there are Several and holy shit I’m still so far from the end): Dangers Unseen - First in the series, Karasuno accidentally sleep through the apocalypse. Interview Transcripts - Set a few months after DU; tells all the side-stories I have to skip in DU for pacing reasons. Seijoh arc (current working title of “In Search of Silver” which will almost certainly change) - I haven’t posted any of this yet but it’s hecking angsty. A Bit Like Home - Sequel to Dangers Unseen, set a year or so after. Also hasn’t been posted anywhere yet. At the moment it’s mostly bokuaka stuff but the idea is for it to be a collection of sorta halfway standalone stories.  I have more ideas for this AU than just these, but I haven’t started writing them yet and I’m not GOING to until this list gets shorter.

An Error of Cat-Astrophic Proportions I’m not gonna lie, this basically started out as a stupid halfway-joking crack fic and it got out of control. 

Partner Fic to “The Carpenter’s Gift” I started writing this and got a couple of thousand words in and then basically started over. I’ll get there. Probably not before the following though:

KiyoYachi Soul Animal AU fic Set in the same universe as “The Carpenter’s Gift”, sorta...around the same time?

Another Original Fantasy Trilogy I love my fantasy, okay? The three novels in this series are all technically started, although only two of them have any substance: The Legend and the Lake is a novel about a Great Hero, and how he...actually isn’t as much of a hero as he’s going to be remembered as.  Spells and Fire is about a real fucking hero and her apprentices, and how she absolutely will not be given full credit for all she does (because she’s a bit of an arse) The Lake Guardian’s Child will be a story about a minor goddess who meets a mortal that immediately falls in love with her, and their journey to cure him of that love because he’s actually sorta engaged already.

Not Within This Restless Heart A HQ!! poly soulmate au which will probably piss off a lot of people by teh end, because no one who’s read it seems to have caught on about how complex the poly relationship is actually gonna be.

Digimon Frontier Fic - working title “Loss and Gain” I can’t really explain this one properly. It’s Angst, that’s all.

Best Laid Plans A secret santa fic I need to finish! I have part of the second and final chapter written, but life intervened and I lost my flow. Hoping to get back to it some time in the next week.

Bokuto Koutarou’s Excellent, Totally Foolproof Plan To Save Christmas As above, really (except it’s the final of 3 chapters, and it’s also the sort-of sequel to “An Error of Cat-Astrophic Proportions” ). I want to finish this up soon, so hopefully life will stop being annoying!

Lifetime Achievement Ennotana fic in which Ennoshita is a film director up for a highly prestigious award he’s dreamed of for his whole life...but he has amnesia and it currently means nothing to him.

Travellers AU - Yachi story For the HQ Brofest! Details are hush-hush for now but it’s the same universe as my time travel practical joke fics. Expect similarly ridiculous stuff.

Things We Misplaced Someone accidentally challenged me to write angsty smut which wasn’t hatesex. Smut is not my thing but I’m really stubborn okay, so I’m writing it.

BNHA Bang Fic Details are under wraps for now, but it’s gonna be fun.

A Zine Fic. It’s early days, okay?

Swansong It angst. Also not being posted to this account, for Reasons.

The Digital Fallout AU A ridiculously wide-scope Digimon AU featuring crossover appearances from like, almost all the series. It’s very much on the back burner for now but I still like thinking about it. Someday. Currently comprises of two kinda short fics: “Adventure’s End” and “The Home Frontier” but I’ve planned a LOT further.

Connection Problems This was going to be for the HQBB in 2017 but I got a massive block and had to put it on hold. I’m hoping to revisit it and finish it up by...maybe Halloween.

The Book An original novel I’ve intermittently been working on for a few years now. Essentially the titular book may or may not be sentient, but it is definitely malicious.

First Draft The..um...sequel to my standalone novel, and both my fantasy trilogies. In my defence it started out as a joke and spiralled out of control and now I want to write it for real but I literally have seven novels to finish first. 

...so yeah. That’s more or less all my active (on some level) writing projects. Hopefully I didn’t forget anything! There are a few more which I have ideas for, but I haven’t started them yet and I’m not going to until this shitstorm is a little less overwhelming. I also have costumes for my kids that I’m about to make, but...I’m not going into other creative ventures here because I will literally never finish. Oh, and there’s tagging, too... Huge apologies for dragging you to the end of this hot mess, but I’m calling on @draculasstrawhat and @ahiddenpath along with any other mutuals who didn’t already get tagged (I know I took long enough to do this that a lot of people already did!) No obligations of course, but I love seeing what people are up to!

[sunbrights]

fic: by the claw of dragon (6/7)

fandom: danganronpa characters/pairings: natsumi kuzuryuu, fuyuhiko kuzuryuu, peko pekoyama + 77th class ensemble, et al. kuzupeko. character tags will be updated on AO3 with plot-relevant characters as chapters are posted. rating: m summary: The Kuzuryuu Clan stands on the precipice of the greatest era of its history. Kuzuryuu Natsumi promises to be the strongest leader the clan has ever seen, the Overlord of the South born again. That Hopes’s Peak Academy would select her for it’s 77th class was assumed, not hoped for.

To the younger Kuzuryuu son, everything is as it’s meant to be.

“I’m still fucking pissed at you,” Fuyuhiko says, when they get back to her dorm room. “Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sits on the bed, and sets to work twisting her boots off her feet. Her arches are starting to ache. “Like I could ever forget, since you won’t shut up about it.”

She waits for him to snap at her, or shout, or try to stomp out of the room. Natsumi won’t let him leave; they’re settling this here and now, whether he likes it or not. She makes eye contact with Peko on the other side of the room, and she bows her head, message heard.

But Fuyuhiko doesn’t reach for the doorknob. He stays where he is, against the wall with his arms crossed over his middle, and he sighs, bone-deep.

Irritation prickles at her. Where does he get off, acting like he’s the one that’s been so put-upon here? After she’s spent weeks chasing him down, trying to make it right?

He says, “What are you doing, Natsumi?”

“I’m trying to get you to sit down and talk to me,” she answers, “in case you haven’t gotten, I dunno, any of the eight trillion messages I sent you.”

“I’m not talking about that.”

“Of course you’re not,” she mutters, and yanks her other shoe off too hard. It pinches a nerve in her ankle that sends a shot of pain all the way up to her hip.

He ignores her. “I’m talking about whatever the hell that was with Satou back there.”

“What about it?”

Whatever response he was expecting from her, that apparently wasn’t it. She stares at him, steady, while he searches for words. “It was a lot,” he says finally. “Even for you.”

“It was effective,” she corrects. She reaches one arm out towards her desk, where her laptop is sitting. Peko steps forward to pass it to her, and Fuyuhiko tracks her with his eyes. “What? Are you seriously going to side with Satou now?”

“Satou’s a bitch,” he snaps. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” She opens her computer in her lap, and sees him scowl in her periphery. “Hey! What the hell? I’m fucking talking to you.”

“Yeah, talking about stupid shit that doesn’t matter! Let me know when you fall off your high horse, I’m gonna be shopping for a new phone.”

“Dad said he wasn’t buying you a new one.”

“Well, good thing Dad’s not here then, huh?”

“So that’s it then?” She ignores him, and types what she’s looking for into the search bar. She wants something slim and pretty and expensive. “You can do whatever the hell you feel like, but fuck everybody else and what they want?”

She rolls her eyes. “There it is,” she says. She doesn’t look up from her keyboard. “You’re so melodramatic, you know that? I did it as much for you as I did for me.”

“That’s the biggest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard in my life. In what fucking universe would this be what I want?”

“Oh, please. If you had your way, you’d be happy to sit in the background for the rest of your life, letting everybody else take the credit until nobody even remembers your name.”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Would you have told them?” she demands, loud enough to drown him out. She looks at him now, over the edge of her screen. The phone model she’s looking at is jet black, all curved lines and metal edges. “After all that work we did, after all that shit you had to go through, if Mom and Dad had asked, would you have told them about any of it? Would you have told them that all of it would’ve gone under if you hadn’t helped me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and that’s answer enough. She tosses up both hands. “Yeah. So save the speech, okay? I’m sick of hearing it from you.”

“Even if that is true,” he says. “What in the fuck gives you the right to make that decision for me?”

“We were supposed to work together.” He rolls his eyes hard enough that the back of his head bounces against the wall. “I thought you’d at least trust me enough to talk to me before flipping out like this.”

“Trust you? You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go along with this dumbass plan of yours! How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?”

Her throat sticks. It hurts when she swallows around it.

“I’m sorry,” she says, which is nothing at all like the speech she’d already had planned out in her head. “Okay?”

He looks up at her. His eyes are wary, but at least not angry, which is as much progress as she’s gotten in weeks. She’ll take it.

“I should’ve said something to you,” she says. “But be honest. Would you have said yes if I did?”

He only says, “No.”

“Exactly. You’re not some big man of mystery, you know. You’re just my little brother.” He glares at her, but it’s more what she’s used to. It’s built out of irritation and pettiness, not hatred. “I have to make up for everything I fucked up last year. I have to do all that and do triple as well on my practical exam to shut up any of those fucking judges who don’t think I’m worthwhile. I need your help. I need you here.” She feels the corners of her eyes start to sting. She takes a quick breath, and focuses again on her laptop screen. “I wasn’t bullshitting you when I said we were supposed to work together.”

Peko has been silent this entire time. She’s still silent now, but she’s not staring resolutely at the back wall anymore, determined to be a piece of furniture, oblivious to their shouting match. She watches Fuyuhiko while he thinks.

“Fine,” he says finally.

“Fine, you’ll help?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Natsumi feels something in her chest start to loosen. “But,” he goes on, “if we’re making a decision, we make the decision. Got it? I’m not putting up with this behind-my-back bullshit a second time.”

“I can do that,” she says. It’s an easy enough promise to make. The worst thing she’ll ever have to ask him is already behind them.

He nods, and that's the end of it. "I should get back," he says. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

Peko looks over at her, but Natsumi shakes her head, just enough. He slips out the door, letting it lock behind him, and her stomach sinks with relief, not disappointment. She goes back to shopping for her phone; she thinks she’s found the one she wants, slim and pretty, with the model in rose gold.

*

She stops going to class.

There’s no point; from the very start it was always just an appeal to Yukizome’s ego. Nothing about a standard curriculum is going to help her advance the clan, and with bridges officially burned with Sonia, there’s no one left in the 77th with anything worth giving her, anymore.

If there’s no benefit, there’s no reason to waste time on it. It’s embarrassing that it took her this long to figure that out.

The rest of the school makes it easy. News spreads like wildfire, even through the main course, and within the week people who were avoiding her gaze before are now stepping completely out of her way in the halls, and people who were unafraid to stare now suddenly have more interesting things to occupy themselves with when she walks by.

She puts her energy into new plans and new deals instead. Enoshima puts them in contact with Hisakawa, and the agreement goes off without a hitch; they give her a reduced interest rate in exchange for a locked-in pipeline. Struggling models, struggling designers, bright-eyed hopefuls: Hisakawa puts all of them on Natsumi’s doorstep first. There’s no deception involved; all of them know what they’re getting into, and where they’re accepting money from. Fuyuhiko knows how to make the numbers work, and Natsumi knows how to get the yes.

It’s less showy than what she was trying to do before, but it’s only the beginning. It’s the step she skipped before, laying the foundation to support future endeavors even when the wind starts to blow sideways. It’s what her father does every day; all Natsumi needs is to do it better.

“Holy shit,” Enoshima says, when she drops into an empty seat at Natsumi and Peko’s lunch table. She’s the only one still brazen enough to sit with them uninvited. “You would not believe what a cluster this day has been.” She tilts her chin up. “What’s shakin’, Peko-senpai?”

Peko doesn’t say anything.

Enoshima slurps on her shake. It’s dark purple today; blackberries, Natsumi thinks. Antioxidants and Vitamin C. “Dark and mysterious. Nice.”

Natsumi tolerates her only because her information is good. The underbelly of the fashion world, it turns out, has a lot of slightly-open doors, all of them waiting for Natsumi to stick her foot into. Enoshima points her to the most profitable ones. She’s never asked for anything for herself, but that only means she knows how to play the game, or thinks she does. Let her think she’ll get a favor out of it later on down the line. Natsumi’s happy to cash in until then.

“Do you have something for me, Enoshima-kun?” she asks.

Enoshima pouts. “You’re awful at foreplay, senpai. You can’t skip right to the main event like that. What about, ‘What’s got you down in the dumps, Enoshima-kun? Exactly what kind of cluster are we talking about, Enoshima-kun? Did you know your skin is glowing today, Enoshima-kun?’”

“Do you or don’t you?”

Her teeth shine when she smiles. “You caught me. My skin looks amazing, right? Not a pore in sight! I’ve been waiting all day for someone to mention it.”

“Then keep waiting,” Natsumi snaps. “Either hand over something worthwhile or get lost.”

Enoshima clucks her tongue. “You’re so serious lately.” She pulls a thin, square envelope from inside her shirt, and slides it to the edge of Natsumi’s tray. “There. You’re welcome. ‘Cause I got a feeling you’re really going to like this one.”

Natsumi reaches to take it, but Enoshima pins it to the table with one bright nail before she can. “But. Before we talk business, I wanna get on the gossip train.” Natsumi jerks the envelope out from under her. Enoshima lets her, grinning. “What’s the news? D’you know which way it’s gonna land yet? I have to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Natsumi answers, and she doesn’t, so obviously it can’t be important. She splits the top of the envelope with her nail; the note is a letter of introduction for a production facility in Osaka requesting a loan for capital.

Enoshima keeps talking. “Oh, c’mon, you don’t have to be coy about it,” she says. “We’re partners now, right? What happens with you affects me too, you know! I have a right to know if all my good investments are about to go up in a dumpster fire.”

Natsumi is only half-listening, focused more on the gall of someone requesting their own interest rates, but she hears investments and dumpster fire. When she looks up, Enoshima is still smiling at her. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Enoshima says. “Fuyuhiko-kun’s not really an A-list gangster, if you know what I mean, but he’s still part of the family, you know? I always heard good things about him. If that turns out to be wrong, I wanna know it’s...” she searches for a word, painted nails against her lips, “handled.”

Natsumi grits her teeth. “What’s handled?”

“Come on! Is Kirigiri giving him the boot or not?” Heads around the dining hall swivel in their direction. Enoshima leans forward, and picks now to lower her voice. “I mean, it takes a special kind of failure to get kicked out of the reserve course, they’re basically just walking bank accounts over there. I didn’t think you were that kind of family.”

They’re not, Natsumi wants to say, but the words aren’t there when she reaches for them. She glares over her shoulder, and the other students who’d been dumb enough to try to eavesdrop abruptly lose interest. Her hands curl into fists on the table, and humiliation burns in her cheeks.

If it’s not true, who would have enough of a death wish to play a prank like that on her?

If it is true, why does Enoshima know about it before she does?

She doesn’t need to say anything; the grin falls off Enoshima’s face all on its own. She actually looks uncertain, for the first time since Natsumi met her. Her eyes slide to the side, but she’s not just looking away, or avoiding Natsumi’s gaze. She’s looking at Peko.

“Oh,” she says. “Family secret?”

When Natsumi looks at Peko, Peko is looking at her. There are lines of confusion in her face, or maybe anxiety, and Natsumi realizes that for the first time in her life, she’s not sure which it is. “Did you know about this?” she demands.

“No,” Peko replies, at once. It should make Natsumi feel better, but instead the coil of frustration in her belly curls tighter. “I spoke to Fuyuhiko-sama last night, but he never mentioned—”

“Because if you knew,” Natsumi says over her, “and you didn’t tell me, we’re going to have a problem. Understand?”

Peko startles, her eyes big behind her glasses. Enoshima is, for once, silent.

“Young mistress,” Peko manages, head low. “My only priorities are your safety, and your needs. I would not hide something of this magnitude from you, even if your brother requested it.”

“Good.” Natsumi focuses again on her food. The sight of it turns her stomach, now. “You’re done, Enoshima-kun.”

“Hey,” Enoshima says. “I meant what I said. If your family can’t keep it together—”

“What are you trying to get at, huh? You’re saying I should do anything before talking to my brother? Because of something you say you heard?” Enoshima only stares at her, her mouth a thin line. “If there’s a problem, it’ll get handled, believe me. You’re done, Enoshima-kun.”

Enoshima stands up, one hand slapped on the table. “Fine, fine. You’re the boss, after all. Let’s just hope you know what you’re doing better than he does, senpai.”

Her shake gurgles as she goes.

*

She’s waiting on the steps of the west building when her brother comes out after school. The reserve course students who’d been loitering there all scattered the moment she sat down, eyes low and heads together.

The wide main doors of the west building creak when they open; there are a few, long seconds of tense silence before they creak back shut again.

“I thought you’d be training with Peko,” Fuyuhiko says behind her.

“I don’t train with Peko,” she answers. She doesn’t look up at him. “I’m not the one swinging a sword around.”

“You know what I mean.”

“This is more important.” She pats the space beside her on the step. He sits, but only after he spends a drawn-out moment staring at the back of her head.

“Can we make it quick?” he says, “I’ve got a lot of homework.” He shrugs the strap of his bag off his shoulder before he sits. Probably he wants her to think that him rubbing his neck is from the weight of the bag, but he should know better by now.

“Sure,” she says, conversational, “if you wanna come clean right now instead of pretending like you’ve ever been any good at lying.”

He sucks in a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See? That’s exactly what I mean!” She copies him, a big gasping breath with both hands clapped over her mouth. He glares at her, shoulders drawn back. “It’s like you don’t even try.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“The truth, for starters. Since when are we all about keeping secrets?”

There’s no point in asking. He looks away, arms crossed over his knees, and she knows the answer.

She wonders what else there is that she still doesn’t know.

“I’m getting expelled,” he says. His voice, his expression: it’s all flat, like he doesn’t even care. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You’re not getting expelled,” she tells him, because there’s no reason for him to say it like the decision’s already been made. He only raises his eyebrows at her. “What did you do?”

He stretches his legs out on the steps. “Apparently,” he says, “I attacked another student. Hit her to the ground and then threatened her in front of witnesses. Like a real certified moron.” He picks at a loose piling on his knee. He’s never been this calm about anything in his life, except this, apparently. “Sound familiar?”

“Satou’s saying that?”

“The school’s saying that. You should’ve seen Kirigiri’s face, trying to feed me that fucking fairy tale.”

“Bullshit they are. I’ll—”

The look he throws her is so serious she almost doesn’t recognize him. “You’re not doing anything,” he says. “Leave it alone.”

She almost chokes on her own indignation. “Are you kidding me?” she demands. “No, I won’t leave it alone. They don’t have the right to walk all over us like this. If they want to punish me, they can sack up and face me. “

“They’re covering this shit up specifically so that you don’t get punished, dumbass. You really think I’m the one Satou wants gone?” Natsumi opens her mouth, but he doesn’t give her the chance to answer. “No. You shut up and listen. They don’t give a shit about one reserve course kid, all right? They don’t give a shit about a hundred reserve course kids. They want to keep you in the main course, and so do we. So just leave it alone, and you’ve got a clean slate. All you have to do is give this stupid fucking grudge match with Satou a rest already.”

She stares at him. She doesn’t know when he turned into this, someone so ready to roll over and be beaten. Maybe he’s let the reserve course get into his head. Maybe he really just hates it here that much.

Natsumi decides she doesn’t care.

“Satou got what was coming to her,” she says, before he can interrupt her again. “There was a problem and I handled it. What was I supposed to do, let her go around trashing us to anyone who would listen? People need to know that I’m not going to fucking stand for that.”

“Satou’s not shit, and everybody knows it. Is it worth dealing with all this bullshit now, just to shut her up?”

“Yes,” she snaps, “because nothing’s going to happen! I’m not letting them think they can just lead us around by the nose like a couple of fucking dogs. Do you have any idea how that would make us look? How it would make me look?”

“How in the hell is this suddenly all about you? Again?” She can’t help it; she rolls her eyes, and that only makes it worse. He blows up in her face, enough that the birds resting on the steps below them scatter into the bushes. “Dammit, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! For once in your whole fucking life, will you just listen to what I want? For once.”

“The clan comes first,” she snaps back. “It sure as hell comes before your stupid feelings. How is it that I’m the one who has to explain that to you? This isn’t about you or me, it’s about our reputation! What are people, our people, going to think if it gets out that I can’t even handle a bunch of school teachers? That I’m willing to just let my little brother take the fall because I’m too afraid of what they might do to me?”

She finds ice in her chest and holds onto it, lets it seep through her until she can be the same cold steel as her father. “This school doesn’t control me,” she says. “Nobody controls me. Understand?”

Fuyuhiko doesn’t have an answer. He stares at her, jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “We both know I sure as hell don’t.” He pushes himself up to standing. He won’t look at her. “I’m asking you to leave it alone, Natsumi,” he says, shrugging his bag higher on his shoulder. “So do whatever you want. You always do anyway.”

She hugs her knees against her chest and watches him go with her jaw clamped shut. If she doesn’t do that, she’ll shout something after him, and she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He’s her brother. He’s family. That’s supposed to count for something to them.

In her head, she can see the panicked slide of Enoshima’s gaze, from Natsumi’s face to Peko’s: looking for help, or guidance, or some kind of cue. She’s not stupid. She’s seen it before.

She can’t clamp her jaw down on that. “Did you tell Peko?” she blurts.

He stops, one foot on the lowest step, and twists back toward her. “What?”

“Did you tell Peko?” she says again.

“I heard what you said, dumbass. Why the fuck would I tell Peko if I already decided I wasn’t going to tell you?”

She doesn’t know. It doesn’t stop her from needing the answer. “Did you or didn’t you?”

“No.” He bites the end of the syllable off. “The only one I told is Hinata, and that was only because he was there when Kirigiri called me back. Alright? Fuck.”

She hugs her knees closer to her chest. “Whatever you think,” she tells him, “I’m the one who has to make the decisions. I’m the one everybody’s gonna be looking at when something goes wrong. Me. So I’m doing what I have to do, for us. That’s all I’ve ever been doing.”

He doesn’t answer. He turns his back again, and leaves her there alone on the steps.

*

Peko’s still in the dojo when Natsumi gets back. She’s not going through her forms, she’s practicing on the training dummies, and it isn’t with her shinai, it’s with her katana. When Natsumi slides the door open, she’s split one of the dummies open from hip to shoulder, shards of wood shattering and scattering out onto the floor.

She holds the cut, the far tip of her blade perfectly aligned with her shoulder. There’s a small semicircle of other students watching her; they take one look at Natsumi and slink away with their heads down, either into the locker rooms or out into the hall.

Peko turns toward her, both hands clasped over the hilt of her weapon. She bows deeply at the waist. “Young mistress.”

“I talked to my brother,” Natsumi says. Peko doesn’t straighten. “I believe you when you say he didn’t tell you anything.”

Peko breathes, a long, slow exhale, but all she says is, “Thank you, young mistress.”

“I should’ve trusted you more.” Peko doesn’t react. It’s at the point where it’s annoying, not respectful. “Will you stand up already? I’m trying to apologize.”

“That’s not necessary.” She obeys, though, drawing herself back up to full height. “Fuyuhiko-sama and I are close. It’s not unreasonable to think he might have confided in me. You were well within your rights to confirm what I told you.”

“I know that.” Peko lowers her eyes, deferential. “This isn’t about him. If there’s anybody I can trust in this place, it’s you. Just you. It was dumb of me to forget that.”

Natsumi can read the uncertainty in the way Peko’s fingers curl in at her sides. She wants to look up, but isn’t letting herself. “You can trust me,” she says to the floor. “But I’m sure that Fuyuhiko-sama would always—”

“I said,” Natsumi interrupts, and Peko cuts herself obediently off, “this isn’t about him. The only thing that matters is you and me. I need to be sure you’re on my side. Got it? I need to know you’ll be there, no matter what happens.”

For the first time since Natsumi walked in, Peko looks up of her own volition. Her eyes are bright and her gaze is firm. “Always.”

“Good,” Natsumi says. “Are you done with your training?”

“I am if you need me to be. Have you made a decision on how to address the issue with Fuyuhiko-sama?”

“Yeah. But we don’t have to go anywhere right now.” She picks a spot on one of the empty benches and sits cross-legged. “I’m not in a rush, and it’s important you finish, so.” She waves one hand. Peko nods, and drops into her cooldown forms.

She doesn’t have a partner, but that’s never stopped her before. Her eyes narrow against an imaginary opponent, and she moves through each form with liquid ease. The slim line of her katana makes the whole thing look a hundred times more graceful than her clunky shinai ever did.

Natsumi counts them in her head, the way she has since they were children.

Ippon-me.

Nihon-me.

Sanbon-me.

*

The school’s computer network goes down in the early hours of the morning. It comes back up within twenty minutes, but the database of student records gets corrupted in the process. There are backups to restore from, but restoring that much data for that many people takes time.

(That’s how the senior class’s Ultimate Hacker explains it to her, anyway, face illuminated by the blue glow of her computer screen as lines and lines of data scroll past. Natsumi doesn’t care either way. She doesn’t need to understand it, she just needs it to happen.)

Principal Kirigiri apologizes to the student body in a morning announcement. “Continue on as normal,” he says. “We hope to have everything back in order in the next few days.”

A few days is plenty of time.

*

Hinata is harder to track down than she expects. She realizes that the only pieces of his schedule she knows are the ones where it intersects with her brother’s, which won’t work for her, this time. He doesn’t seem to be in any clubs, play any sports, or have many other friends; it’s something she should have expected from a friend of her brother’s, maybe, but that doesn’t make it any less of a pain.

She manages it, though. Obviously. It only takes her a day to figure out that the place he always vanishes off to after school is a fountain in one of the courtyards between the east building and the west building. She catches him on his way there, walking fast through the courtyard. He sees her, and then he immediately ducks his head to pretend he didn’t.

“Hey!” she shouts, and he stops in his tracks, shoulders drawn up to his ears. “Hinata-kun!”

She has to hand it to him: he’s not stupid enough to try and bolt into the bushes. He resigns himself to being caught and turns towards her, smile strained. “Uh.” He fidgets with the knot of his tie until it’s loose against his collar. “Hi, Kuzuryuu-san. Your brother’s not here.”

“Do I look stupid to you?” He purses his lips, but shakes his head. “No. I know he’s not here, I was looking for you.”

“Me?” His eyes dart from side-to-side, wary. “Uh, I don’t….”

“We got off on the wrong foot before,” she says, before he can finish the thought. “You know? So I think we should start over. A friend of my brother’s is a friend of mine, right?”

He rolls his shoulders back, his expression turning stony. There it is again, Hinata’s slim spine. “You seemed pretty convinced I wasn’t his friend, before,” he says, tone flat.

“That was then,” she says. “This is now. That’s what starting over means, isn’t it?”

“Okay,” he says, but there’s still a sardonic bent to it she doesn’t appreciate. She bites her tongue. She needs this to work on the first try. “Why bother now, then?”

“My brother is— stressed out,” she says. “Recent... events haven’t made things any better. I need your help to help him.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “I mean, if he’s your friend. That’s what friends do, right?”

Hinata manages to keep his face carefully neutral, and he only fidgets a little bit. If she were stupid, it might actually fool her. “Sorry, Kuzuryuu-san,” he says. “I don’t know what you mean. He’s seemed fine to me.”

“You can give up the act,” she tells him. “I already know.”

To his credit, Hinata doesn’t break easily. He looks away, a sort of longing half-glance towards the fountain she’s holding him up from, but he keeps his mouth shut. The most he gives her is an anemic little shrug, and nothing else.

“I know they’re trying to expel him,” she says. She doesn’t have the patience to try and unravel him the old-fashioned way. “Okay? Happy now?”

The put-on neutrality on his face gives way. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, and she thinks he might actually be. “He didn’t want you to know, and he said that you might—” His brain must catch up with his mouth, because he cuts himself off. “I was just being careful.”

“Maybe next time lie like you actually mean it,” she tells him. “If I didn’t know it would’ve taken me all of, oh, two seconds to figure out something was up.”

“Thanks,” he says, and this time when he looks away it’s to hide the shallow roll of his eyes. She pretends not to notice, for his sake. “Do you actually have a plan or what?”

“Of course I have a plan. Who do you think I am?” She pulls tickets from her blouse pocket, and holds them out to him between two fingers. “Here.”

He looks at her hand like she’s offering him the detonator of a bomb. “What are they?”

“Movie tickets, stupid. My brother’s been waiting months for this dumb explode-y action flick to come out. It’s all he talked about, all freaking summer. So I got premiere tickets.” She waves them under his nose. “Will you just take them?”

He has to stretch his arm all the way out, because apparently he doesn’t want to take a single step closer to her. She makes sure to grin in his face when he makes brief eye contact, right before he plucks the tickets out of her hands.

“My brother loves to wallow,” she says. “If there was a talent for drowning yourself in self-pity, he’d be the top candidate. What he needs is a distraction, so.“ She flicks the tickets with her middle finger, just to see Hinata flinch. It’s worth it. “They’re for Thursday night. You can just go out into the city after school. Tell him you won them in a contest or something, I don’t care.”

Hinata is frowning. He squints up at her. “There’s only two.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re not going to come?”

It interrupts her rhythm. She hadn’t expected him to notice or care about that part. “That garbage puts me to sleep,” she says. Hinata doesn’t say anything, so she keeps on talking. “Besides, the whole point is for him to actually relax for once, right? That’s not gonna happen if I’m there. So.”

He hovers, one hand twisting the strap of his bag. The paper tickets make a faint scratching sound when he rubs them thoughtfully together. It grates on her nerves.

“What now?” she demands.

“Nothing. I just—” He chews his bottom lip. When he looks up at her, his eyes are intense. “You know your brother cares about you, right, Kuzuryuu-san?”

The hiccup in her rhythm turns into a pothole. She fumbles her words. “What kind of stupid question is that?” Hinata shrugs, but doesn’t take the question back. Natsumi folds her arms tight over her middle. “Of course I know that. Why do you think I’m doing this?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “You’re right. Sorry.”

She doesn’t think he’s sorry at all, this time.

“So you’ll do it?” she presses anyway. “Thursday, after school.”

“Yeah.” He’s smiling at her when he tucks the tickets into his bag, even if it’s small. “I think you’re right, he could use the distraction. Thanks, Kuzuryuu-san.”

“Great!” He jumps when she claps him on the shoulder. “You’re not so useless after all, Hinata-kun. We might even be a good team.” She turns away from him, and calls back over her shoulder: “Have fun with Nanami-san! I think she likes you.”

She leaves him there, standing dumbfounded in the courtyard with his mouth hanging open. She’s not worried. Hinata’s not bright, but he hasn’t done wrong by her brother so far.

It’ll work.

*

The day of the main event, she goes to afternoon homeroom for the first time in weeks. Not for any particular reason; she’s spent the last three days doing nothing but preparing, and by the end of the school day there’s nothing left to do but wait. She doesn’t feel like spending it in silence in the dojo, not with the way her pulse has been racing since lunch, and by the start of the period she finds herself in the doorway, one hand on the frame.

Yukizome is beside herself. It’s almost embarrassing. “Kuzuryuu-san! Pekoyama-san!” Natsumi jerks her hands back before she can clasp them, but Yukizome only clasps her own together instead. “Welcome back. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The rest of the class is less enthused. A year ago, the room would have been buzzing with quiet conversation. Today, it’s dead silent.

“Look who finally decided to show her face,” Saionji jeers, when Natsumi puts her bag down. “Not so afraid of us anymore? I’m impressed, since your muscle’s basically brain-dead. That’s gotta take a lot of courage.”

Natsumi stands over her desk. Peko stands behind her. “You tell me, Saionji-san. You’ve got the whole story, right? You know how easy it is for me to crush a bug.”

“Girls,” Yukizome interrupts. Her voice is strained. “Please.”

“Hiyoko-chan,” Koizumi whispers. “Don’t. She’s not worth the energy.”

Saionji stares at her a few seconds more, and then she tosses her head. “Whatever. Like I care how this bitch spends her time. Let’s just get this over with.”

Yukizome tries. Nobody could deny that. She gives her lecture the way she always does, with enthusiasm and drawn diagrams on the blackboard. She tries to get them to contribute, the way she always does, with leading questions and discussion prompts, but no one picks up the cues she lays down.

Natsumi isn’t listening anyway. She’s distracted by the way her own knee is bouncing beneath her desk, and how it won’t stop even when she tries to force it. She doesn’t even notice when her phone lights up with a new message, not right away.

fuyu-chan 14:42 just reminding you: you’re not gonna be able to bribe your way out of this

fuyu-chan 14:42 it’s a start though

She breathes out. Everything’s in place. The rest of the class feels at once like an eternity and an eyeblink, but the bell rings eventually, and that’s when her timer really starts.

No turning back now.

While she’s still gathering her things together, Yukizome sets a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Before you go, Kuzuryuu-san,” she says, smiling, “would you mind helping me clean up today? I could use the extra hands. And I thought maybe we could catch up.“

Natsumi shrugs her off. “Sorry,” she says, already halfway out the door. “Got plans already.”

Yukizome doesn’t try to stop her.

*

Satou dropped photography club after middle school. Natsumi wasn’t speaking to her then, so she never heard exactly why, but she doesn’t think it takes a genius to figure out. No one could ever live up to Koizumi’s impossible standards; not even Satou, who always spent all her time talking them up.

The point is: when she dropped photography, she picked up archery. She’s mediocre, Natsumi’s heard, which doesn’t surprise her in the least. Satou was never an athlete. She was never much of anything. Natsumi doesn’t know why she bothers.

It’s just as well, though. She has Satou’s mediocrity to thank now, for the late hour and the empty hallway and the darkness in this classroom. She waits with Peko in silence until she loses track of minutes and starts measuring out time based on the pounding of her own pulse in her ears instead.

Satou drops her bag when Natsumi opens the door into the hall. Brightly colored arrows rattle against the floor when they spill out from one of the outside pockets, cheerful blues and reds and yellows rolling in all directions.

She stoops to pick them up, but freezes when Natsumi whistles, long and loud. “Wow, Satou-san! You’re here late. Did you have a good workout?”

Satou stands slowly, the few arrows she’d managed to grab clutched close against her chest. She looks back over her shoulder, like it will make a difference; the end of the hallway is swallowed by shadows, untouched by the few after-hours fluorescent bulbs over their heads.

“Don’t worry,” Natsumi says to the back of her head. “It’s just you and me. And Peko-chan, obviously.”

“You can’t intimidate me, Natsumi,” Satou says, twisting back around. She lifts her chin, but it trembles. “I won’t let you.”

“Intimidate?” Natsumi echoes. “Who, me? Come on, now, Satou-san. You’ve got it all wrong. That’s not what I’m here for at all.”

“Kuzuryuu-kun is going to get expelled,” Satou tells her. “You can try to delay it all you want, but it’s going to happen.” She gains confidence the longer she talks, and that was always the problem with her, even back in middle school. She could always convince herself of anything, even when the opposite was staring her right in the face. “I didn’t want it to. He didn’t do anything. But you only have yourself to blame for it.”

“Oh, really?” Natsumi considers the ceiling. “Because I bet I could think of a few other people worth blaming.”

She smiles, but the effect is lost, a little bit. Satou’s eyes keep jumping behind her left shoulder instead of staying on her face.

“Hey,” she snaps. “Don’t look at her. Look at me.”

Satou obeys, with effort. Her knuckles are white where they’re wrapped around the small bundle of arrows.

“Like I was saying.” Natsumi lets her expression melt back into the smile. “I’m not here to intimidate anybody. I mean, that sort of thing takes forever, you know? And I’ve already spent way more time in this dump than I ever wanted to. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here at all. I’m missing out on a movie night with my brother to be here with you right now, did you know that?”

Satou doesn’t have much of a poker face. The lines around her eyes pinch, confusion and anxiety mixed together.

“But! Business is business,” Natsumi goes on. “And I have responsibilities, you know. It’s a bummer sometimes, but what can you do?” She tilts her head, and Peko steps out around her. Today she only has her katana. “You started this. It’s just professional courtesy for me to finish it.”

And finally, for what feels like the first time ever, finally Satou understands.

“Wait,” she says, and chokes on the syllable. The arrows in her hands clatter to the floor. “You’re not…. You can’t—”

“I can’t what?” Natsumi interrupts. “Defend myself against a shameless attack on my family and my clan? Did you really think I was just going to let this slide? Let you and Kirigiri try to strongarm me into playing by your rules?” Satou is white. Natsumi claps one hand against her own cheek. “Wow, you really don’t know me at all, do you?”

“I— I’ll take back the complaint,” Satou tries. It could almost be funny, how quick that tune changed. “I’ll make sure Principal Kirigiri lets Kuzuryuu-kun stay, just—”

“You still think this is about him?” Natsumi laughs, because she has to. Satou stumbles backwards, and the heel of her shoe sends one of her dropped arrows skidding across the floor. “This isn’t even about you. Are you really just that dumb, Satou-san? I even explained it to you.”

“Then what… what can I….”

Natsumi lets her smile drop. She crosses both arms under her chest. “Nothing,” she says. “What’s done is done. I gave you plenty of warnings. What did I say before?” She waits. Satou seems to have run out of words. “I said, we’re not going to have this conversation again. Peko-chan?”

The draw of Peko’s sword is visceral. Natsumi feels it like another limb, like it’s her blade, her will.

“No,” Satou whispers, a sharp intake of breath. “No, no. Wait, please—”

Natsumi throws out a few fingers. That’s all it takes.

Satou tries to scream, but either her breath is gone or Natsumi’s head is too full to hear it. It doesn’t matter. Peko is faster than her. Peko is faster than all of them. Natsumi only sees a blurred arc of silver in the corner of her eye, and she can’t tell where in it Peko’s braids stop and the curve of her blade begins.

There is a wet, thick sound, and then it’s over.

The spill of Satou’s blood squelches when her body hits the floor. It drips from the end of Peko’s sword, and she flicks off the excess in a messy line at her feet. Natsumi can taste metal in the back of her throat.

When they were twelve, she and Satou and Koizumi had all gone shopping together. Natsumi had bought a pink dress. It’s still in her closet, all the way at the back.

“Young mistress,” Peko says. “I am finished.”

Natsumi forces herself to look down. It’s not the first dead body she’s ever seen, and it’s not even the first time she’s watched Peko kill on her behalf, but it is the first time it’s been on her order. It won’t be the last. She refuses to cower in the face of it.

Satou’s dropped arrows cut abrupt, colorful lines through the dark pool around her. It makes the whole scene look ridiculous, like Satou had slipped and fallen in a child’s finger painting. Her hair is spread out around her in a wide ring, rapidly soaking through with blood. Her arm is bent at an awkward angle; Natsumi thinks that it must be painful, before she remembers.

Satou’s eyes are open. They stare up at her, wide and glassy. Those last moments of fear didn’t get erased by death; they were warped and mangled and frozen there, and Natsumi thinks she won’t be able to imagine any other expression on Satou’s face for the rest of her life.

Natsumi’s stomach heaves. Acid burns the back of her throat, but she doesn’t let it up; she looks at the coagulated clumps of blood in Satou’s hair, and swallows it back down.

Her voice is unsteady when she says, “Peko.”

If Peko notices or cares, she doesn’t make any indication. Her expression is blank when she looks over, but her eyes are clear. The front of her uniform is splattered with blood. There’s a sharp line of it across her cheek.

“Clean this up,” Natsumi says. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

“Yes.”

She leaves through the west building’s front doors. The evening air from the courtyard outside is fresh and cool and clean when it hits her face.

*

There’s more than half the school year left before the practical exams. The identities of the judges are never released this early, but Natsumi knows they’ve already been chosen. Getting their names isn’t hard. The whole school is cowering at her feet now, and that includes the desk jockeys that send out the Academy memos.

The head judge this year is a board member named Amachi Satomi. She was a homeroom teacher for the senior class for forty years before she retired, and is a graduate of the Academy herself. Her talent at the time had been Ultimate Negotiator.

Natsumi leaves a newspaper from the day after on Amachi’s desk, the top headline reading STUDENT MURDERED AT HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY. There’s an aerial shot of the east building underneath it, the same image that’s used in all of the school’s promotional materials. Natsumi drives her knife through the image of the school’s tall front gates, until the polished wood of Amachi’s desk cracks and splinters.

She writes a second headline beneath the first in permanent marker, to be sure that she and Amachi have an understanding. There’s been an issue with people not getting her the first time, lately.

THE KUZURYUU CLAN ABIDES NO INSULT